#man made environment: Pottery

[horizon-series-details]

A while ago, I stumbled upon an abandoned Utaru settlement placed between The Oldgrowth and Plainsong. It’s unnamed, and only has a fast travel point, so I went ahead and marked the location on the map.

I originally came here to talk about some of the ways Utaru display plants, and since this location isn’t actually coded in-game as a settlement, that means I actually have full camera control and can get lower to the ground where needed. I wanted to talk specifically about these pots, but that may be for a later date, as it occurred to me that I haven’t actually talked about this place yet.

As I begun looking for any sort of clues as to what this settlement could have been, I started picking up on some things. One of them is these- I had assumed at first glance that they were more elaborate plant holders, however, compared to the ones from Riverhymn (Right), they actually may be closer to ovens or furnaces

While I was exploring other settlements, I noticed something. The unnamed settlement (left) is one of the only two that has a room like this. The only other one I found was located in Plainsong (right), where it seems to be used as a means to display offerings, likely for the Land-Gods.

My original thought was that it was actually an earlier version of Plainsong due to the similarities with the offerings room and the location, but some quick research, as well as a few things I found in the area quickly shot that idea down. Despite that, I can’t shake the feeling that it has some sort of connections to Plainsong specifically, perhaps an expansion was planned? Or alternatively, due to the close proximity to it, maybe it was part of the Oldgrowth, just from before the events of Forbidden West.

[kryptonbabe]

Archaeology vs. Paleontology, how it feels to be elegantly told by Hawkman that you're dumb

From All-Star Comics #61 & 62 (1976) by Gerry Conway, Keith Giffen & Wally Wood

I'm currently reading a JSA comic in which an astronaut flies to the surface of the sun and, instead of dying, becomes a powerful being capable of manipulating high levels of energy. I'm having fun, so I don't care about the science of it. However few pages later I get the panel above... Mixing up archaeology and paleontology? Now this is too much, that's where I draw the line! (Although I was too quick to judge, and Hawkman had my back all along).

I have no idea what is the scientific field of Dr. Kliburn's studies, but when he says: "Mucking about the ruins of Egypt, exploring ancient Inca pyramids, digging up dinosaur bones in Arizona -- all of that makes sense for an archaeologist" to Carter Hall a.k.a. Hawkman, an archaeologist, he badly mixes things up making dinosaur bones part of an archaeologist job. So ok, studying the remains of life is the business of many branches of science, and both archaeology and paleontology study the remains of organisms, but there's a difference in the type of remains they study.

Archaeology is the scientific study of ancient and recent human remains and artifacts (bones and teeth, ancient cool pottery, statues, funeral urns, tools, vases). Think: Lara Croft; Indiana Jones (I'm not saying he's good at his job though!).

Paleontology is the scientific study of all past life on Earth (dinosaurs, extinct fungi, plants, saber-tooth tigers etc), primarily through the study of fossils - so way beyond the remains of humans and their artifacts. Think: all the smart people in Jurassic Park; Ross, from Friends? (Oh boy we need better representation).

A little about objects of study: fossils studied by paleontologists and archeologists include bones, shells, body imprints, wood etc; so these fields of study might overlap (i.e. similar tools and excavation techniques), though their goals are different. Fossils can be remains of anything, there are different kinds of it. Trace fossils for example are like footprints, nests, or handprints left behind by creatures.

Above are the pictures of two cases of trace fossils, but while the study of the human footprints fossils on the left is a job for an archaeologist, the study of the non-human footprints, on the right, is a job for an paleontologist.

Now, what about poop? You might be asking yourself... and yes fossilized poop is also a fascinating object of study, they are scientifically called coprolites and by analyzing the fossilized poop of the Neolithic workers who built the the Stonehenge monument archaeologists found them littered with parasitic worm eggs. I mean... disgusting, but how cool is that we are able to learn that? They made these amazing structures which some people atribute to aliens and super advanced technology, but they had no idea they were eating infected meat, and that's such a human thing to do!

On the other hand when paleontologists study and collect animal fossil coprolites they find out more about that animal's way of life, their ecology, their environment, which is super important considering we can only study their remains. One of such early paleontologists, and true icon in the field of collecting ancient dinosaur feces and bones, was Mary Anning, a pioneer of paleontology in the early 1800s (she's cool as heck)!

Now that we establish that: I'm sorry Dr. Kliburn, but that is obviously a human remain, therefore a job for Hall Carter, an archaeologist! He also mentions a fly trapped in amber (and I know it is a sort of metaphor, but), that would be a job for an paleontologist... Kliburn is a really confused man. And Hawkman is just too polite to bluntly correct his colleague, instead he chooses a more subtle approach:

By emphasizing that the "proper study of mankind is man" Carter very elegantly corrects Dr. Kliburn's wrong assertions, indirectly pointing that his field is the study of mankind and their artifacts, not other aspects of nature, he won't be looking into flies preserved in amber or excavating dinosaur bones in Arizona (although... to Kliburn's merit, Arizona is indeed a state with a rich fossil record with many different dinosaurs and other animal bones and trees preserved). A very polite way call someone a fool.

I'm guessing that the writer, Gerry Conway, was probably aware of the difference between the two occupations and interested in making a tongue in cheek comment on it. Not that comics need to be scientifically correct, far from it, I love it when they're not. But I also love it when we can use them to learn something.

Further indication of that point is that if we take a look at Hall Carter's home in the above panel, we don't see any signs of animal remains, we do see what look like human artifacts, tools, weapons and masks. It is clear Keith Giffen and Wally Wood, the artists of the issue, are aware of an archaeologist's objects of study. And if you're asking yourself who the uninvited guest is: yes it is Dr. Kliburn himself attempting to rob Hawkman's house...

Dr. Kliburn dies that same issue by the very human fossil he was trying to steal. So that's what you get for mixing up two serious and interesting scientific fields... Thank you for reading this!

[kohiandie]

ohh!! for the questions post!! for Andie! 3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

for Kohi! 17. name 3 things that make you happy

and for both! 28. do you collect anything?

eeeeee :- ) ty for asking!

3. three films i could watch for the rest of my life & not get bored of:

wrath of man by guy ritchie (i love his work tbh, the gentlemen is also fun) - OBSESSED WITH THIS MOVIE, ITS SO FUN, IN LOVE WITH ALL THE CHARACTERS & PLOT???

saltburn / promising young woman by emerald fennel (i literally can't pick but everything about her work is insane and mind blowing and such eye candy and yummy and aaa)

game night (we've watched this so many times also and it's just too hilarious, too fun, we revisit at least once a year LOL)

FUCK WAIT -- ingrid goes west & the old guard -- two very diff movies but also straight up faves

kohi & i do nothing but watch shows / true crime & movies literally all day long while we work, so i like to think we have quite the uhhh repertoire of films

17. name three things that make me happy!

andie

cats being goofy & loved in a safe environment

a well stocked, clean kitchen

28. do we collect anything?

kohi --

vintage or home made cat figures / wall decor

studio pottery someone signed & wanted to be rid of (mugs, bowls, jars - love them all but they have to be warm in tone)

second hand taxidermy-ish objects like antlers / bones / decorative dead bugs

andie --

stationery -- i have so many notebooks, planners, stickers, etc. that i just... love having

pokemon cards -- been collecting since i was a baby LOL i have so many giant binders, at least four?? mostly early generations but some recent & some v valuable cards i've gotten over the years (i used to sell cards on ebay lol)

i couldn't choose between cameras or blankets for this so i'm gonna say both LOL i have a ton of vintage & modern cameras bc i love photography / videography & also i cannot say no to a cozy, pretty blanket ever & having so many cats makes it a perfect excuse :- )

[morningstar-warriors]

Adventure Fourteen

The Ritual

A white cat with long dark grey ears gazes out across the forest, he sits on a warm stone basking in the comfort of the sun. The clan cats that stalk past him cast glances of fear and discontempt. The white tom ignores them, a smug curling smile across his face. This old tom is Ashwind, in the flesh. A dark presence looms behind him, cutting off the soft breeze bellowing around him.

Bramblestar steps beside him, and informs Ashwind that he must successfully rejoin Fern Clan. That he must ensure the Veil is open...

Ashwind by me.

☆・*。

・゜+.

　°。+ *´

Strong wind whipped against the thick fur of the Fern Clan cats. Their paws scraped and slid across tall sandy rocks and great limestone, red and white mountain flowers occasionally brushing past their pelts. Redstar was guiding the main crew to Boulder Clan camp, deep inside the heart of Silver Heights. The group could see their entire forest from where they stood, the tree tops rustling below from the soft breeze.

Despite the newfound exploration of a territory many had rarely seen, it was hard to celebrate. They all moved towards grimly to the camp to reunite with an old enemy, to do an unsavory deed. Darkstar retained her usual stoicism, Dustclover looked about curiously, Applethorn felt rising anxiety, and Buttermoss thought of her friends, not looking forward to the imminent threat.

Boulder Clan camp, Made in One More Multiverse.

The Boulder Clan camp was busy with different wandering clan cats, there were soft plants and mosses around the harsh rock face to provide soft sleeping spaces. Carvings and pottery lay around the camp, and most attractive was the water fall centerpiece that loudly thundered. Cats watched the Fern Clan group enter from dark caves hidden within the mountain, and a blood orange gaze burned into them the strongest.

Leaping down from a sandy red rock was Ashwind, approaching the group to greet them. He sizes them all up, glancing to Dustclover.

"Ahh the great Dustclover, you have an excellent lineage!"

Then to Buttermoss.

"I see there's been a few... Downgrades..." He comments on her kittypet origins. Button is playing the mean old conservative man wonderfully.

Darkstar stares holes through the old seer. The whole ordeal is tremendously uncomfortable. Applethorn states as much. He doesn't approve of the ritual, wanting to gather the Stonetellers to see if they can enter the Darkforest in a far more controlled environment. He tries to convince Littlefang, Boulder Clan's seer of as much. But the small cat wishes to please Redstar and see this ritual through. For some reason or another it seems Ashwind has convinced the mountain cats he had what they needed. The Fern Clan cats suspected this was all a trick on his behalf.

Redstar informs them all that his healer, Brunthaze, is setting up the ritual above the waterfall. They'll all be able to enter once its moonhigh. The group rolls to see what they know of Boulder Clan history. The highest rollers discover that its remarkably rare to be an outsider and see a Boulder Clan corpse. Their traditions are very sacred, they will probably never see a cat adorned in the traditional dress of the dead ever again.

────────── · · · · ✦

The stars twinkle bright against the dark, the moon hitting its first quarter high in the sky. Redstar guides the clan cats up towards slippery dark rocks. the waterfall roars past them as they scale towards a massive cave with a jagged teeth like opening. Inside sits Burnthaze, the Boulder Clan healer. She waits for the group to file in, sitting in the center of this cave is a circle made of smooth pebbles.

On each 4 corners of the circle are large jutting out crystals that gleam in the dim light of the cave. Sitting at the end crystal is the corpse of Redstar's mate Hawkfeather. She lays down in a pile of moss and feathers, adorned in wooden beads, sticks, red and white flowers that cover the holes torn into her. Despite how well cleaned up and dressed she was, the wounds covering her body were hard to ignore. She was mauled as horrifically as Palegaze.

The Ritual by Me.

Burnthaze looks to everyone, the stonetellers must enter the circle, and everyone else must stay outside it. Once the Stonetellers enter the ritual must commence. The cats sit carefully around the circle watching the Stonetellers reach their respective places inside. When situated, Burnthaze sets down the final stone sealing the circle. Ashwind sets off first his scars and eyes glowing with an electric smoking green. Darkstar and Dustclover are closest to him, they feel a chilling cold creep over their fur.

Applethorn exhales, his heart glowing with a deep orange like a flame inside him. The whole room feels his breath as if he pushed the very dust with his presence. The ground cracks and splits, a sharp line jutting between Ashwind and Applethorn illuminating Green and Orange light.

Littlefang looked upwards to the ceiling of the cave, his eyes gleaming a bright blue light. His lips moved as if saying a prayer, and a nearly impossible to see moon marking began to glow atop his forehead. Jutting cracks spike through the rocks towards Applethorn, connecting them with blue and orange light. Once the connection was made sharp lines shot out directly towards Hawkfeather's corpse, and released the sound of a loud rasping breath.

She rises, bones cracking, eyes dead, and looks to the Stonetellers in waiting. Now they could all ask questions. The following lines are quotes from me and the players...

Dustclover asks, "Did you get these scars how I think you got them, were you there?" "How do you think I got these? Ripped apart... By many cats..." "Well no shit... In the circle? With the lighting?" Dustclover presses. "The spire..." "The Spire, yes. You were there at the spire?" "Who told you about The Spire?" Applethorn interjects. "I was there..." "Why were you sitting in the circle?" Dustclover meows. "Promised... Many, many great things..."

At this point I step in to ask how many questions thats been. AWWW DAMN YOU! Says Blue. She knows whats up. Technically 5 questions were asked but I only counted 4. So I let this next question be the 5th.

"Who promised you? Who was the one organizing all of this?"

Once Applethorn asked this question, a piercing cold blade of pain struck the entire group. Everyone except for Dustclover and Buttermoss, who passed the save, took full damage from this.

"Bramblestar..."

Hawkfeather speaks by Me.

Darkstar sits more and more confused with each question. Her deputy and seer spewing out questions clearly more knowledgeable than her. Her paranoia and anxiety grows, what were they not telling her!

Applethorn refuses to continue this, each word uttered from Hawkfeather's soulless corpse feels like an abomination. He attempts to pull away from the ritual, but without the support of the other cats he strains, taking yet another piercing to his brain. Blood spews from his nose, he looks to LIttlefang and demands they end this. He agrees. Ashwind debates holding the corpse up for longer, but releases her as well. She drops to the earth, dead again. Her paw smacking a stone from the circle breaking it.

Darkstar takes this as the circle is broken, and rushes through towards... Applethorn. She checks to see if he's okay, but he lays in the ground exhausted and unresponsive. Dustclover leaps through, tackling Ashwind to the ground and keeping him down. Buttermoss and Darkstar try to attend to their seer, but neither are well versed in healing. The Fern Clan leader is just sort of awkwardly smacking his head to try and re-awake him.

No hitting! by Cookie.

Burnthaze rushes to his side and tells her to stop, and takes care of Applethorn from there. Redstar sits with the corpse of his mate, curled over her in broken sorrow. Dustclover keeps Ashwind down as the drama breaks out between the group, its now out that Darkstar's deputy and her Stoneteller knew about the Dark Forest and told her nothing. She turns to Buttermoss yowling, asking if she knew too. If her friends were all lying to her...

Redstar demands they all leave.

[giottoandmendini]

What Are the Best Interior Design Ideas for My Home in Los Cabos?

While conceptualizing your abode in Los Cabos, make sure to infuse the grandeur of the local surroundings into a personalized design experience. Unforgettable landscape, coastward sceneries, and warm weather make it most favorable to house an open, airy, and cozy interior. Full-service interior design or just a few home-décor ideas can really make a space into a luxurious dwelling haven by simply choosing the right items.

How Can Interior Design Help?

Interior design for my home in Los Cabos needs to be truly cultural-genuine and mix colors, textures, and materials reflecting the coastal environment. Let there be neutral shade combinations of sandy beige, crisp whites, and soft blues reflecting desert landscapes and the ocean itself. Wood, stone, and woven materials will add a comfortable yet sophisticated style. Inviting spaces that at the same time become part of the cave will also be created.

You know, one can make his house very individualistic with furniture that is really practical but also very nice looking. A local artisan may have completely original pieces that can make your home unique and very personal while supporting the community at the same time. For example, if you add wooden handmade chairs, colorful textiles, metal works, and such into your house, you may have something of the authenticity you are looking for in your design. It can make a room very private and relaxing just for you or the other extreme of lively activity where people come to check it out. All these local things may add up to your very own place in Los Cabos: the man cave or whatever else you're into.

How Much Does It Cost for Interior Designing Services? 

The price varies between a few thousand dollars to tens of thousands for large undertakings like a remodel or an entire redesign of a home; variation depends on how complicated the design is and how opulent the finishes are. To save money, it is best to work with a local professional who knows the ins and outs of how to fancy down designs particular to Los Cabos.

When it comes to interior home decor ideas in Los Cabos, one can think about taking the natural beauty of the region into the house: open views with large windows, illuminate the indoors with abundant sunlight, and create outdoor spaces that allow the beautiful enjoyment of those warm evenings. Perhaps textures and modern furniture, combined with touches of coastal living, could be some ideas for decorations that can fill the spaces. Local accessories made from woven baskets, pottery, and unique artworks would also magnify that atmosphere. You should be aware of the interior design services cost in Los Cabos.

Conclusion

Giotto & Mendini has a wide variety of high-quality, locally sourced pieces to suit any preference. From contemporary to traditional Mexican, it is the place to shop for furniture that fits your particular design vision. Known for quality craftsmanship and outstanding customer service, they are a very good resource for those decorating or furnishing their home in Los Cabos. Whether it's just looking for a statement piece or interior home decor ideas in Los Cabos, We can guide you through the process to ensure your home becomes an example of the beauty of the region and your personal style.

[ebelal56-blog]

Top 5 Maya Sites in San Ignacio, Belize and Southern Mexico!

Explore the top 5 Maya sites in San Ignacio, Belize, including Cahal Pech and Xunantunich! Discover the rich history and culture of Belize with this ultimate guide to the best Maya ruins in the area. San Ignacio, Belize, is a hub for exploring some of the most impressive Maya ruins in the region. Here are five must-see Maya sites in and around San Ignacio: 1. Xunantunich Located just a short drive from San Ignacio, Xunantunich is one of the most visited Maya sites in Belize. It features the impressive El Castillo pyramid, which stands about 130 feet tall and offers stunning views of the surrounding area. The site also includes several plazas and temples, with many intricate carvings and stelae. 2. Cahal Pech Situated on a hill overlooking San Ignacio, Cahal Pech is easily accessible and provides a glimpse into the daily life of the Maya. The site includes a number of well-preserved structures, including palaces, temples, and ball courts. Cahal Pech is one of the oldest Maya sites in the region, with artifacts dating back to 1200 BCE. 3. Caracol Although a bit farther from San Ignacio, Caracol is worth the trip. It is the largest Maya site in Belize and one of the most important political centers of the Maya civilization. The site features the impressive Caana ("Sky Palace"), the tallest man-made structure in Belize, along with numerous other temples, palaces, and a large network of causeways. 4. El Pilar Located on the Belize-Guatemala border, El Pilar is a large and relatively unexplored Maya site. The site covers an extensive area and includes numerous plazas, temples, and residential structures. El Pilar is unique for its emphasis on the surrounding forest and the integration of the site with its natural environment. 5. Actun Tunichil Muknal (ATM) Cave While not a traditional ruin, ATM Cave is an important archaeological site containing many Maya artifacts and remains. The cave was used for ceremonial purposes and is filled with pottery, tools, and the famous "Crystal Maiden" skeleton. Exploring ATM Cave is an adventurous and immersive experience that provides a unique perspective on Maya culture and spirituality. These sites offer a diverse look into the rich history and achievements of the Maya civilization in Belize.

[skanda06]

Shopping Places in Chikmagalur: A Guide to the Best Local Markets and Shops

The place Chikmagalur is famous for its beautiful coffee plantations and eye-catching sceneries, but apart from that, the place is perfect for shopping enthusiasts as well. For the shoppers, when you want local Chikmagalur handicrafts, spices, or the locally famous coffee, Chikmagalur has many varieties to offer. Staying at one of the cozy homestays in Chikmagalur provides easy access to these vibrant shopping spots, ensuring a memorable experience. Below are some of the most recommended shopping venues that tourists should visit in Chikmagalur.

1. MG Road MG Road is one of the most sensational markets of Chikmagalur to prevail. This is a very active and colorful street with a number of shops, which sell virtually everything that can be thought of including clothes and accessories, electronics and home decors. It is ideal for buying souvenirs and gifts since there are many shops around; it is also an ideal place for an amble and to feel the spirit of the city. The road also has many cafes and restaurants that will allow and invite you to taste some of the local specialties.

2. Spice Markets Chikmagalur is also famous for spices and the people interested in buying spices exclusively will have opportunities to avail it in Chikmagalur markets. Common fresh and aromatic spices include cardamoms, black peppercorns, cinnamon, and cloves are some of the spices that can be found here. It is rather an attraction for so to say for the olfactory sense because the markets are full of spices. Do not forget to also purchase some fresh ground coffee since Chikmagalur is well known for its exotic coffee beans.

3. Coffee Plantations Any tour that one can organize to Chikmagalur must include a visit to coffee plantations. These plantation centers contain their coffee shops were you can buy roasted coffee beans, coffee powder, apart from coffee products you can also find chocolates and skin products made of coffee beans. It is important to visit some plantations for a guided tour of the environment and the process followed to produce the coffee and, on top of this, you can taste the different brands of coffee before purchasing.

4. Shivaji Road Shivaji Road is the other market centres of Chikmagalur where you will find almost all the needs of man including wears and ornaments, foot wears, home made articles etc. This road is famous especially for Silk sarees and Indian traditional clothes. This is due to the energetic and colourful markets and the fact that clients get value for their money through quality products within the markets.

5. City Market City Market is known for offering a variety of things ranging from fresh foods, local foods, and other day-to-day foods. This is a specializing market for the locals and due to the density of the populace one can have a feel of the local lifestyle and engage in a conversation with the vendors. You are likely to find and purchase fresh fruits, vegetables and flowers among other goods; specialty Kenyan foods such as banana chips, jackfruit chips as well as a variety of pickles. It’s a good spot for buying mouth-watering native delights for the folks back home.

6. Handicraft Stores There is various shop for handicraft where one can shop the beautiful local products of Chikmagalur and understand the rich cultural background. The various products that can be found in these stores include carved wooden items, pottery, hand woven fabric items and cultural ornaments. Therefore, when you purchase products from these stores, you get a special gift as a reminder of your trip, and at the same time, you are contributing to the development of local craftsmen and contributing to the people’s occupation.

7. Local Flea Markets Chikmagalur has quite a number of flea markets and the local flea markets are good hunting grounds for antique items. These markets are usually held during the weekends, and that is why one is likely to find items such as clothes and shoes, home and decor items, jewelry, furniture, toys, and cosmetics, among others; they range from old and used products like the second-hand books or raw products like crafts among others. Venturing into these markets is an experience by itself and you can easily find yourself settling for some totally original merchandise that is unique in the whole world.

Conclusion Yes, the shopping facilities available in Chikmagalur vie with any other city in India and provide the utmost benefits to a buyer depending on the kind of shopping they are interested in. Whether one is in need of spices, which are probably the town’s most important product, coffee, locally made gift items, or some basic necessities, the town can indeed supply them. With numerous resorts in Chikmagalur and hourly hotels in Chikmagalur, visitors can easily plan their shopping trips and relax in comfort. Therefore, the next time you pay a visit to this lovely place Chikmagalur, it is advisable that you spend some time visiting these shopping centers and perhaps take along a memento of this bewitching area. Happy shopping!

[myhelpbooks]

Dalhousie is a popular hill station located in the Indian state of Himachal Pradesh. Here are some popular places to visit in Dalhousie:

Khajjiar: Known as the “Mini Switzerland of India���, it is a picturesque glade surrounded by dense forests and snow-capped mountains.

Chamera Lake: A serene and scenic man-made lake surrounded by lush green forests, offering opportunities for boating and fishing.

Dainkund Peak: The highest peak in Dalhousie, offering panoramic views of the surrounding mountains and valleys.

St. John’s Church: A historic church built in 1903, known for its Gothic architecture and beautiful stained-glass windows.

Satdhara Falls: A series of seven cascading waterfalls surrounded by lush greenery, providing a peaceful and rejuvenating environment.

Kalatop Wildlife Sanctuary: A lush forest reserve home to a variety of wildlife including deer, leopards, and birds.

Bhangora Pottery Centre: A traditional pottery-making centre showcasing the rich cultural heritage of the region.

These are some of the popular places to visit in Dalhousie, providing an opportunity to experience the natural beauty and rich cultural heritage of the region.

[better-woodbridge-va]

Woodbridge Preschool

The Montessori approach is focused on creating a supportive and stimulating learning environment that encourages children to develop their full potential. It was developed by Dr. Maria Montessori, an Italian physician, and educator, in the early 1900s. The concept is based on the idea that children learn best through self-directed exploration and hands-on learning experiences in a carefully prepared setting. Merit School Learning Center at The Glen is a Woodbridge preschool that embraces this method. They provide the Stepping Stones Montessori classroom for two- to three-year-olds and present an orderly, focused, and calm environment in which your child can learn and grow.

Annual Events in Woodbridge, VA

Woodbridge hosts several annual events throughout the year, ranging from cultural celebrations to community festivals. The Occoquan Arts and Crafts Show is a bi-annual event held in April and September in nearby Occoquan just a short drive from Woodbridge. The show features over 300 artists and crafters, showcasing their work in a variety of mediums such as pottery, painting, jewelry, and more. The Fall Jubilee is held annually in October, and features live music, food vendors, a craft show, and a carnival. The Woodbridge Farmers Market is held weekly from May through November and offers fresh produce, locally made crafts, and live music. In December, the Potomac Mills Mall transforms into a Winter Wonderland, complete with a holiday light show, visits from Santa Claus, and festive decorations. These are just some of the yearly events that keep the town active.

Occoquan Bay National Wildlife Refuge in Woodbridge, VA

Occoquan Bay National Wildlife Refuge is a 644-acre protected area and was established in 1998 to safeguard and enhance the wetlands and forest habitats along the Occoquan River and its tributaries. It is a secure haven for a variety of migratory birds, including waterfowl, songbirds, and raptors. You can also find bald eagles, ospreys, river otters, and white-tailed deer in the vicinity. Some of the activities people enjoy doing on the trails and boardwalks include birdwatching, hiking, and wildlife photography. In addition to its natural beauty, the refuge also serves as an important educational resource for the community and hosts a variety of educational programs, including guided nature walks, birdwatching tours, and school field trips.

Woodbridge Man Chokes Woman, Steals Her Credit Cards

Studies have consistently shown that men are more likely than women to commit crimes and be violent. This trend holds true across cultures and geographic regions and is observed in both developed and developing countries. Men tend to have higher levels of testosterone than women, which may contribute to more aggressive behavior. They are also more likely than women to be involved in illegal activities that offer high financial rewards, such as drug trafficking and organized crime. Boys and men are also often socialized to be more aggressive and competitive than girls and women. They may also be exposed to more violence and aggression in media and popular culture. In Woodbridge, a man has been arrested and could face 27 years in prison for trying to strangle a woman and stealing from her. Click here to read more.

Link to Map

Driving Direction

Occoquan Bay National Wildlife Refuge

14050 Dawson Beach Rd, Woodbridge, VA 22191, United States

Head north on Dawson Beach Rd toward Highams Ct

0.7 mi

Continue onto Occoquan Rd

1.2 mi

Turn left onto Old Bridge Rd

4.7 mi

Continue onto VA-294 W/Prince William Pkwy

0.2 mi

Turn right

151 ft

Turn right

Destination will be on the left

489 ft

Merit School Learning Center at The Glen

4290 Prince William Pkwy

Woodbridge, VA 22192, USA

[progressivemother]

Summer fun

I don’t let this season slip by without taking the time to intentionally create lasting memories with my kids this summer. Summer is a great opportunity to get the family outside and have fun. However, it can sometimes be challenging to come up with ideas everyone will enjoy. Fortunately, there are plenty of activities we can do to make for an unforgettable summer.

1. Going camping or having a backyard campout. A campout gives us an excellent opportunity to do something fun together. We can make s’mores over a campfire or grill burgers for dinner. This is an affordable and fun way to create memories with family. We're just doing our normal activities in an outdoor environment instead of being in an enclosed space.

2. Plan a beach day. A beach day is the best thing we can do with family in the summertime. If you live near a beach, you don’t have to travel far to realize this dream. But we do not. The closest we have is a man made lake near us. It has beach sand and grass. It's a beautiful place. We get the whole family together for an outing where we can swim, play volleyball and do whatever we want. We also take the dogs. We just have to find a space with enough distance from others since some people do not like dogs.

3. Plan a picnic. Picnics are a great way to enjoy food and family fun. We like to keep it simple and have sandwiches or snacks with drinks. Picnics are so popular because they are cheap and easy, and we can do them anywhere.

4. Take a road trip. Road trips are a fun way for families to spend time together without spending much money. We ensure the drive is fun enough to make it a great family activity. When we’re away from home and make it a point to stop at odd little towns along the way, its much more fun. We plan on visiting the Pueblo sites this year.

5. Visit local museums. Museums are great places for families to spend some time together. Not only are most museums accessible, but they also have events and activities that are designed to be fun for kids and adults alike. Some museums require a small fee, which is worth it.

6. Learn a new skill. Regarding family activities, our options are limited only by our creativity. We can always learn something new. This is a great way to spend time together and get to know each other better. My husband loves having the kids help him with the vehicles. It's a great skill for them to know in the future. My daughter wants us to learn pottery this year. I don't mind trying it.

Summer is a great time to get out and have fun with the family. Planning activities that everyone will enjoy can sometimes be challenging but it can still be fun to try something new.

[notwiselybuttoowell]

At midday on the road into Grünland, a Mennonite colony in the Bolivian department of Beni, the only sound is a distant chainsaw.

On either side, strips of deforested land extend into the distance. Underfoot, the soil is scattered with shards of ceramic and bone: remnants of the pre-Columbian peoples that this part of the Bolivian Amazon, known as the Llanos de Mojos, once supported.

Archaeologists are only just beginning to understand the scale and complexity of these societies, but all the while, the agricultural frontier keeps advancing, destroying sites before they can be studied. The environmental damage of deforestation is well-known, but the Llanos de Mojos reveals another side of its impact: the loss of human history.

Grünland was founded in 2005 by Mennonites, members of the tightly-nit Anabaptist Christian group that began arriving in South America in the early 20th century, in search of isolation and lands to cultivate.

In one field, a Mennonite man called Guillermo was resting in the shade of his tractor. He cheerfully acknowledged finding ceramics and bones while working the land.

Umberto Lombardo, an Italian earth scientist and one of a handful of academics who study the archaeology of Beni, probed gently with questions about the topography of the land when it was first deforested.

The Llanos de Mojos is an almost completely flat region, so any elevated areas are a sure sign of human activity. Lombardo walked about, stopping here and there to pick pieces from the earth of what was once a vast human-made mound, now partly flattened by the farmers.

“The surface of the site is completely destroyed, changed, because the earth has been moved, the pottery broken,” said Lombardo. “That part of the archaeological archive is lost.”

The Mennonites are just one facet of Bolivia’s booming agribusiness, and what is happening in Grünland is happening all over Beni.

The Bolivian government has big plans for the sector. Today, the country has roughly 4m hectares of cultivated land and 10 million cattle. By 2025, the government wants 13m hectares and 18 million cattle.

On the current trajectory the government will undershoot those targets substantially. Nonetheless it has boosted the sector’s growth by allowing more deforestation and reducing fines for illegal deforestation.

In 2021, Global Forest Watch placed Bolivia third in the world for loss of primary forest, behind Brazil and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Ranked by population, Bolivia is first by a distance.

Most of this deforestation is happening in two departments: Santa Cruz and Beni. But it is in Beni that a unique archaeological heritage is at risk.

“Archaeology is everywhere in Beni,” said Lombardo. “They say if you put up a roof, you have a museum.”

The Amazon basin was once considered to be pristine wilderness, but a growing body of research has found traces of a vast network of earthworks predating the arrival of Christopher Columbus in the Americas and implying the existence of large, complex societies.

[c-valentines]

The Conjuring- Chapter 3, The Trouble with Communicating

Taker starts to face family issues whilst Shawn’s demons start to become a reality. 

(this is a bit all over the place and I apologise, see it as a filler chapter)

---

Taker watched Shawn. This wasn't unusual. Taker was obsessed with Shawn. He loved watching the blond work, talk, relax and well just exist. Shawn never minded taker watching him, he knew Taker just liked to take a moment or two to appreciate him without them having to interact. Taker was grateful for Shawn, Shawn saved him from so much and showed him a world he never knew he needed. But in this moment. Taker just feels pain. He frozen on spot. He cannot move and he cannot speak. Just watch. Watch as Shawn's hand shape the clay into a bowl shape. Pottery was a habit Shawn picked up once he became sober. Normally taker wouldn't mind watching him work. But the shadow figure grew darker as it stood over Shawn. It started to take shape into someone Taker never wanted to see near Shawn like this.

His baby brother.

Kane slowly looks at Taker and tilts his head. Taker's eyes land on the small blade in Kane's hand. Handle shaped like a cross, a deep dark red blade with a black cross handle. Something that use to be Takers. Taker desperately tries to move as Kane cups Shawn's face. Shawn doesn't react at all. Doesn't react when the blade stabs through his chest. As blood pours out of him. Taker's eyes water as Shawn's lifeless body hits the floor. Kane pulls the blade out and slams it down into Shawn's chest again.

"NO!" Taker screams suddenly sitting up. His chest heaves as he takes in the environment. His bedroom. He looks at the bed next to him. Empty. It was just a nightmare. Right? Taker's eyes snap to the door as it swings open. "Taker? Baby are you OK?" Shawn asks rushing over. Taker immediately grabs the blond and pulls him into his lap. He ducks his head down and rests it on shawns chest, just needing to feel his heartbeat. "It's alright. It was just a bad dream yeah?" Shawn sighs realizing what's happened. Taker tends to get quiet and clingy after nightmares. Especially nightmares about Shawn. Shawn will just stay with him and try to distract him until he comes back. This could take minutes, hours, or even days. But it's worth it to Shawn.

"Hunter picked Kendall up. Apparently, she was taken after school." Shawn explains, running his fingers through short ginger locks. "I made sure to cleanse her and the house before she left. Kevin also phoned to talk about an actual job. A family thinks their house is possessed. Hunter said he'd gladly join us once he's dropped Kendall off" Shawn adds. Taker slowly lifts his head and looks at Shawn. "Which would be cool. We haven't had a case with both Kevin and hunter in a long time" Shawn smiles. "I mean it's not kliq reunion but it's something ri-" "I love you" Taker chokes, cutting Shawn off. Shawn's eyes widen and he looks at his lover. "Takes? I love you too baby...what's wrong?" Shawn asks gently. Taker shakes his head and Shawn slowly cups his face. "I just wanted to tell you." Taker whispers. "Ok. That's OK baby." Shawn smiles before gently kissing the bigger man.

Taker sighs and kisses him back. "Just wanted you to know" he whispers as he pulls back. "I knew. I've known since day one. Don't you worry about that" Shawn smiles. Taker scans shawns face. "It's all OK," Shawn whispers. Taker nods slightly. Then he thinks about the blade, completely missing Shawn asking to talk."I need to go check something." Taker states. "Oh..ok" Shawn nods moving off his lap. Taker kisses him one last time before rushing off, leaving Shawn sitting on the bed surrounded by today's demons and ghosts. "Shoulda knew he wouldn't stay" one tease. Shawn lowers his head before pushing off the bed. "And here you were going to bother him with your problems of the day when he's suffering more" the female ghost huffs. Shawn didn't like her at all. She was a lady from the victorian era. Liked to put Shawn down about their relationship and shawns role in the house. And then you had the other one. A young man who just loved to poke and bash shawns buttons. He had to be from the 90s from the mullet. Shawn liked to call them Lady and Mullet. Just because they got upset about it.

His demon of the day was an ex. It tended to be Bret who would turn up and put him down. Now Shawn and Bret's relationship was never toxic, but they both had issues, both were too opposite. And demons tend to, enhance these issues and problems when presenting as the person. Shawn knows this. But it still gets under his skin. "It won't be long till he leaves as well." 'Bret' promises. Shawn walks into the bathroom and sighs. "Get lost" he whispers. "You lie to him and then have the nerve to want to bother him with the problem you lied to him about! How stupid can you be!" Bret yells. "Shut up!" Shawn grits gripping the sink. "He's got a point" mullet huffs. Shawn looks up into the mirror and just stares at the image staring back.

Bret looming over him. Eyes glowing a dark pink. "You will never be good enough for him" Bret whispers. Shawn's eyes flicker to the lock on the medicine cabinet. "Oh go on. Do it. You know that's the only way to shut us up" Bret smirks. "You know the code. Go on. 110997" Bret smirks. Shawn's eyes burn into the lock. He can easily put the code in, take one or two pills and taker will never know. His day will be a lot quieter. Just as he lifts his hand the door swings open. "Shawn I think the do-Shawn?" Taker asks suddenly looking up from the box in his hand. Shawn lowers his head as he rests his hand on the sink again. "Shawn.." Taker sighs walking over, placing the box on the counter. "I...I wasn't going to" Shawn whispers. "Is it too loud today?" Taker asks. Shawn nods slowly. "Is that why you came upstairs? To tell me? And I ignored you...I'm sorry Shawn" Taker sighs hugging the blond from behind.

Shawn huffs. "It's fine, you were scared. I should have just waited for you to come back." Shawn whispers. "Baby, scared or not, you have the right to tell me these things. Especially if you feel the need to open that cabinet" Taker states. "I know. I know our deal. I'm sorry." Shawn mutters. Taker looks at the cabinet. They put a lock on it after Shawn had a bad episode. Taker never saw them but Shawn would describe the house as being full of spirits, demonic and good. All too loud for him. Too demanding and scary. Taker found Shawn swallowing back a pill bottle. It was the worst day for them. Taker was terrified. They mutually agreed to have a lock put on the cabinet. They needed the medication inside the cabinet as it's basics like pain medicine and allergies stuff.

"You need to change the pin" Shawn whispers. Taker looks at the blond shocked. "Can't trust myself right now. Change it. Please." Shawn states a bit louder. "Of course. I'll change it." Taker nods. Shawn looks up and sees his lover. No demons, no ghosts, just his husband. "Is it quieter now?" Taker asks calmly. Shawn nods and holds his lover's hands. "Thank you" Shawn whispers. Taker kisses his temple. "It's alright. We have each other. We always will." Taker mutters. Shawn nods. Taker's phone starts to ring. "You should really get that...I might go work in the studio for a few" Shawn admits. "Alright. I'll join you soon" Taker states watching the blond walk off. He looks at the cabinet. He'll change it before he joins Shawn.

He grabs his phone and looks down at it. "Daniel?" Taker whispers before answering it. "Taker?" Daniels's panicking voice asks. "Yes. Daniel, what's wrong?" Taker asks. "It's Kane, he..hes disappeared" Daniel whispers. Taker's eyes widen in fear. "What? What do you mean he disappeared?" Taker demands. "He told me he loved me and that he's sorry for whoever he's going to hurt last night. I didn't think much of it because it's Kane. You know you both are shit with your feelings! But when I woke up this morning he was gone. I can't find him anywhere!" Daniel explains. Taker turns and looks to where he placed the box. It's gone. "Shit!" Taker yells. "Taker?" Daniel asks. "Look keep the doors locked, stay fuckin safe, ill find him. I have to go" Taker rushes before hanging up.

That nightmare can't be a coincidence. It has to be a warning. Taker legs it down the hall, down the stairs, nearly tripping if he didn't grab the banister in time. He rushes through the house towards the garage, or as Shawn called it, the studio. He slams the door open causing Shawn to jump. "Taker?" Shawn asks from his pottery wheel. Taker's eyes scan the room before landing on Shawn. "Baby what's wrong?" Shawn asks standing up. Taker doesn't say anything. He just stands in the doorway, breathing heavily as he watches Shawn. Shawn takes his apron off, leaving him shirtless and in messy joggers. He hadn't got the chance to start anything yet. "Taker? I need you to talk to me...is everything OK? Was it the phone call?" Shawn asks resting a hand on taker's chest.

Taker just kisses shawns temple. "It's ok. Just lost something important" Taker mutters, holding his small lover close. "Oh OK... Will you be joining me?" Shawn asks. "Later. I need to quickly sort something out" Taker admits. Shawn sighs and rubs takers chest before looking at him. "You be safe OK?" Shawn asks. "I will. And I promise we can talk tonight." Taker tells him. "Mm good" Shawn smiles accepting the kiss off Taker. "Remember the rules" taker tells him. "No letting creepy old men in the house as they'll take advantage of my pretty face?" Shawn asks."not what I was on about but sure baby" Taker chuckles and pats him on the ass before walking off. "You know everything's not ok" mullet states. "Shut it" Shawn huffs grabbing his apron. "I know that. But he will tell me when he's ready" Shawn states, smiling as Mike and their first ghost dog, Achilles walk in. "Hey boys, come join us," Shawn tells them as he gets back in his flow.

Taker can't fight the churning feeling in his stomach. He needs to find Kane and that stupid blade. Hell, he doesn't even know if Kane has the blade or if Kane is off doing something stupid. But he still has to find them. He hates to think of Kane doing something so damn dangerous, so he has to find him first. And he knows a place to look. As he leaves the house, bike keys clenched in his hands, mindset on the two gravestones he hopes Kanes sat by, he doesn't notice or feel the pair of eyes watching him leave. He doesn't notice the man walking up to his porch as he drives off on his newest bike. His mind was too foggy to notice anything but his target.

Shawn groans as the door knocks. "I swear takers just left!" Shawn huffs getting up. He quickly cleans his hands before swapping the apron for a shirt. "I have a bad feeling" the lady states following Shawn out of the garage. "You always have a bad feeling" Shawn huffs moving towards the door. He opens it just as the man goes to knock. "Oh hello," the surprisingly high voice speaks. "Oh um hi...can I help you?" Shawn asks confused. "I was wondering if your dear husband was home?" The man asks. "You just missed him sorry" Shawn smiles. The man sighs and nods. "Would it be alright if I waited inside?" He asks. Shawn hesitates, he then remembered the joke he made just a few minutes ago about creepy old men. "Oh, where are my manners? I'm Paul!" Paul smiles. Shawn relaxes. "Why didn't you say?" Shawn chuckles.

Shawn had never actually met Paul, all he knew is that Paul was Kane's actual dad and well Taker found that out the hard way. Taker never really said much about Paul, just that he was a little strange and looked after him when their parents passed and well both men found out he also looked after Kane, just never mentioned the boy being alive till they got older. Taker said that Paul argued he never knew if Kane would make it and didn't want to burden taker until he knew.

"Bad feeling" the lady hisses. "It completely slipped my mind. I forget we never officially met. I mean I found out you married my undertaker from Kane." Paul chuckles as Shawn steps aside and lets him. Shawn closes the door and bites his lip. Well isn't that awkward? "Yeah, sorry about that...it was a small thing really. My own family didn't come either" Shawn admits turning to the man. "Oh, it's fine. Shall we sit and talk?" Paul asks. "Ah yes sure. Would you like a drink?" Shawn asks. "A coffee would be lovely." Paul smiles. "Please take a seat, I'll make you one," Shawn tells the man, pointing towards the living room.

Meanwhile, after breaking a lot of speed limits, we'll not a lot the graveyard wasn't that far from takers home, he arrived. He parks up and rushes toward his parent's graves. And well someone's there, just not who he wants. "Goldust?" Taker asks. "I followed your brother here. He seemed...confused" Goldust states. Taker looks down at the graves. "Where is he now?" Taker questions. "He left. Said he had to get something from Paul's place before he got back" Goldust states holding up a piece of paper. Taker slowly takes it and reads the message Kane wrote. His eyes widen as he turns the paper. "Paul's gone to my home?" Taker asks. "Yes. I don't know why" Goldust shrugs. Taker tenses. "Shawn" Taker whispers. Goldust looks at him. "Is Shawn home?" Goldust asks. "Yes. Shit, I have to go" Taker groans rushing off, leaving the strange man standing at his parent's graves.

Taker needed to find Kane, but he couldn't leave Shawn and Paul alone. He knew Shawn would let the man into their home. He should have stayed. Or at least warned Shawn about Paul. Told him that Paul was a threat. This is exactly why they needed better communication.

Taker felt nervous the entire drive home. He couldn't fight the bad thoughts of Paul being alone with Shawn. He would kill the man. He wasn't going to lose any more loved ones.

He nearly trips getting off his bike. He runs up the porch and into the house. "Shawn!" He yells. "Taker?" Shawn's voice calls. Taker walks into the living room to see Shawn sitting across from Paul, both with mugs in their hands. "Undertaker, it's been a while" Paul smiles. Taker keeps his eyes on Paul as he moves to Shawn. "We were just um talking" Shawn states as Taker sits next to him. "Are you OK?" Taker mutters looking at Shawn. Shawn's face fills with confusion. "Yes," Shawn nods slowly. Taker looks at Paul. "What do you want?" He demands. Paul chuckles. "Taker my son-" "I'm not your son" Taker cuts in. "Taker.." Shawn mutters resting a hand on the taker's knee. Paul's eyes land on the hand before back at taker's face. "Undertaker, I'm concerned about your brother." Paul states.

Taker keeps quiet. "I just wanted to know if you had seen him lately?" Paul asks. "No. But we already know you know where he is so cut the bullshit!" Taker barks. Shawn squeezes his knee. "Taker!" Shawn hisses. "It's alright Shawn. Undertaker has always held this anger towards me since he found out I was Kane's father" Paul sighs placing his cup down. Taker growls. The nerve of this man! "You know I really wish you accepted my help Taker. I'm glad you're happy, but I still feel like your minds are not completely healed" Paul continues. Taker looks at him confused. "What?" Shawn asks. "After the fire. Of course, he was destroyed. His family was killed...I told you not to play with fire..." Paul sighs. Taker's eyes widen as shown hand moves back. "What?" Taker whispers.

"And after the fire, you were so convinced your parents were still alive. Do you still hear them?" Paul asks. "Stop him" mullet growls to Shawn. "Evil! Evil!" Lady yells. Taker looks up slightly as the lights start to flicker. "I just wish you accepted my help. I would hate for you to have any demons laying around still, especially with you now having such a beautiful husband" Paul smiles sadly. "Evil!" Lady yells. "Stop him, Shawn! Shut him up! You know Taker wouldn't play with fire!" Mullet yells. "Do you? Do you truly know him?" A distorted voice asks. Shawn swallows hard. "Don't do that. You know it was Kane who started that fire" Taker grits out. "It was your lighter no?" Paul asks. "Your poor mother-" "don't talk about my mother" Taker bites. Shawn's head starts to get too loud. "Shawn! Help him!" Mullet yells. "I bet his mother slept with a lot of people." The distorted voice chuckles. "Shut up!" Shawn yells looking towards the empty space next to him.

Paul smirks slightly before hiding it behind a shocked expression. Taker's head snaps towards his lover. Shawn's eyes widen and the lights stop flickering. "Wow...so it is true. You do see what others don't... " Paul whispers. Shawn looks at him, confusion and shock all over his face. "Shawn?" Taker whispers. "I didn't believe Kane when he told me. But you don't you?" Paul asks leaning forward. Taker keeps his eyes on Shawn. A rookie mistake on takers behalf as he misses Paul touching shawns hand.

Shawn's eyes widen as the room goes blurry. He gasps and turns his head, fire. He steps back and ends up outside. He looks next to him to see a small child knelt screaming and crying as the house goes up in flames. The child glitches into a shadow of an adult. Shawn looks back at the house in horror. Is this the fire? Shawn turns his head to see a younger Paul ordering a small boy to run away. Shawn turns back to the house to see a beautiful woman with long red curly hair. "Take care of him" she smiles. When Shawn blinks she ends up in front of him. She cups his cheek. "You make him so happy.." she smiles sadly, gently grabbing Shawn's wrist. Shawn jerks back as the distorted figure snap her neck. A large, toothy smile appears on his face. "There's a reason everyone he loves dies Shawn..." the distorted voice chuckles before shoving Shawn.

Shawn's eyes fly open. He didn't know they were closed. Takers knelt in front of him. "Shawn? Baby? Look at me... breath...in....out...cmon" Taker instructs, holding his hands and rubbing the back of them. Shawn takes a moment to compose himself. "I'm ok.." he finally speaks. His voice was rough. He looks behind Taker to see Paul gone. "Paul-" "Yes he's gone. He does that. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left." Taker sighs. "I'm sorry about what he said. About your mother. It wasn't right." Shawn whispers. "Seems like our ghost friends agreed with that didn't they?" Taker smiles slightly. Shawn chuckles. "Lady and Mullet? Yeah, they were begging for me to shut him up" Shawn admits. Taker smiles softly and shawn's heartaches. He looks so much like his mother when he smiles.

Taker's smile falls as a tear rolls down shawns face. "Baby? What's wrong?" Taker asks calmly. Shawn whimpers and wipes his eyes. "I'm sorry..you just...you look so much like her when you smile" Shawn whispers. Taker's eyes widen. "What?" He asks quietly. "I...I saw your mother...s...she talked to me..." Shawn admits. Taker tenses and lowers his head. "She talked to you?" Taker asks quietly. Shawn lifts his head up. "She's happy that you are happy. She's proud of you Taker... " Shawn tells him. Taker nods and kisses shawns hand. "I..Shawn, your visions are getting stronger. They are talking to you now?" Taker questions. Shawn bites his lip. "Yeah...I know the lingering demon is able to but visions of people I've never met...events I wasn't at, they've never been able to see or talk to me. Hell, it's never happened before. Not until we went to that house. Ever since we went to that house they've been able to acknowledge me" Shawn answers.

Taker nods. "We will look into it. I'll keep you safe Shawn. I promise." Taker tells him. Shawn nods slowly. "She was happy?" Taker asks quietly. Shawn sighs and rests takers head on his lap. "Yeah, she was baby. She was beautiful..." Shawn mutters running a hand through Taker's hair.

Shawn couldn't help but feel on edge. The demon wasn't exactly wrong. Everyone Taker loved has suffered death or life-threatening injuries. And what scares Shawn the most is the promise of Taker keeping him safe. The fear of what taker will do to keep him safe, how far he will truly go, who he will hurt. Shawn closes his eyes and tilts his head back.

"I'll help you find Kane," Shawn speaks up after a few minutes of silence. Taker looks up. "No...Shawn, I can't... " "I'm not asking. You clearly fear for Kane right now. I'm guessing that was to do with the nightmare. Let me help you find Kane" Shawn cuts in. Taker sighs and sits back. "Let's talk about it later alright? I... it's a lot." Taker mutters. Taker isn't going to let it happen. He does not need an unstable Kane near his lover. Especially now that Paul has gotten to Shawn. "Fine. Fine" Shawn whispers before standing. Taker turns and leans back against the sofa, watching his lover collect mugs and walk out to the kitchen. He closes his eyes and rests his head back. Maybe he does need help. After finding Kane. Not some demons Paul assumes he has. He could phone Goldust. Mankind. Austin..he doesn't need to drag Shawn into this. He needs to keep Shawn safe, and having him help with Kane is not doing that.

"Fuck!"

Taker's eyes shoot open and he pulls himself up, walking into the kitchen to see Shawn staring at his wrist in horror. "Shawn, what's wrong?" Taker asks walking closer. Taker stares in horror as well as a dark bruise forms on shawns wrist. "What the hell, Shawn what the fuck is going on?" Taker demands. Shawn knows straight away. This is bad.

This is so bad.

The demon, this parasite is using visions to get closer to Shawn, using moments of weakness. What Shawn doesn't understand is why Taker's mother? A woman he never met. A woman who, realistically has no relationship with Shawn. A woman he hadn't even seen a single photo of. The only time they meet is on the anniversary of the house fire when Shawn doesn't want the taker to go to the grave alone. Shawn doesn't tend to go to the graveyard...too many dead people. But he always goes on that day.

Why is this thing using taker's mother to get to him?

And how is it suddenly so strong?

"Shawn!" Taker barks. Shawn looks up. "I must have hit it" Shawn immediately states. Taker raises an eyebrow. "What happened in that vision? Tell me" Taker snaps. "Nothing! Leave it!" Shawn barks pulling his wrist back. "No! Tell me, Shawn! This isn't ok!" Taker yells.

And as the yelling increases, Paul watches from the window with a small smile. "Well done..the plan is working.." he laughs.

[dracosaurusrex]

Kintsugi: Imperfectly Perfect (Draco x Reader)

“Kintsugi is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.”

- Tiffany Ayuda

Summary:In which Y/N teaches a broken Draco Malfoy how to mend himself and embrace the scars that haunt him.

Wordcount: 10.3k

Genre: Angst/Fluff; Postwar AU

Warnings: Descriptions of depression; self-degredation; sexual themes but no smut

A/N: Hi! This is my first time writing a postwar AU. I was always afraid of doing so out of fear that I would mistakenly portray Draco, but I guess this can be a rite of passage in a way aha. With that being said, here’s my attempt! I hope you like it :D Feedback is very much appreciated!!

The sound of an alarm clock breaks the peace that had manifested within the darkness of the room. One eye creaks open, followed by the other, and a body raises itself to greet the day. 

The boy lifts his sheets gently, allowing the cold air to engulf his skin, to wake him, to pull him into the reality of yet another morning. 

The pads of his feet are the next to awaken as he hoists himself out of bed, meeting the frigid floor beneath him. He plods across the expanse of space, only to take notice of his reflection in the mirror.

Draco Malfoy, once boisterous, prideful, loud, and arrogant, had been reduced to a shell. One that lived by drifting through the motions of each passing day. It showed through the dark circles apparent under his eyes, the frown that resided on his lips, and his overall gaunt appearance. The thrill that was once characteristic of his youth had spilled through his cracks, leaving him empty and seemingly unrepairable; and no other perspective of his experience could convince him otherwise. 

The second wizarding war took too much from him so early on. It started with his father, the man he had ardently looked up to, who he desired so much to please. Lucius’s arrest put the young boy on the forefront of the Death Eaters’ activities, placing an unbearable weight on his shoulders. From that point on, it wasn’t long until the mischievous smile left him, only to be replaced with panicked eyes, increased stress levels, and absolutely no peace of mind. The boy had his entire life on a tightrope, constantly pulling strings to survive.

The result of such was the immense realization of guilt pooling from the sights of Hogwarts in shambles, the lifeless bodies of those he was once acquainted with, and the shame of literally walking away from it all. 

Nightmares were also frequent visitors. Besides those that embodied remnants of the war, Draco was almost always confronted by the tauntings of his wrongs: the way he poorly treated others, his stuck-up sense of superiority, the foul slur that he once used so freely--they all haunted him with no end, and all he wanted to do was take everything back. The boy has so often degraded his character since then, describing himself with words such as ‘worthless’, ‘loathsome’, ‘putrid’--the list goes on. He carried his beating heart as though it was dead weight, wanting so desperately to discard the regret that compounded on itself through the years. He was broken, and had no hope of being fixed. 

It was also needless to say that the family dynamic had changed for the Malfoy’s; especially since they often stayed within the confines of the property. Narcissa had been diligent in eradicating the place of all things that harbored any signs of Voldemort’s occupation--opening curtains, tending to her garden, changing up the plans for the interior design. Lucius, on the other hand, often occupied himself in his study, simply abiding by the plans for change that his wife had made. He still invested in his social connections, actively making donations to charities and hospitals that had been established as a result of the war. The act helped shed some light on their image, however any interaction that was to be made with the world outside was done through Draco as representative of the family name.

Fortunately, he managed to keep his mind silent in the mornings. As he walked through the vast hallways he would take note of the way light had poured into the manor, admiring the charm that it brought to its nooks and crannies. The quaint atmosphere that was characteristic of these corridors were peaceful, and managed to calm his thoughts albeit temporarily. 

As soon as he entered the dining room, Narcissa beckoned him to sit with her and his father. 

“Draco, darling, come have some breakfast.” Without much response, he obeys, taking the spot across from her. She placed his favorites on a platter, and observed him as he nibbled on the food in front of him. After several minutes of silence, she pulled an ivory-colored envelope from the pocket of her robe and slid it to him. With food still mounted on his utensils, the boy glanced at the gold details that embellished its corners.

“We’ve been invited to an art gala hosted by the Ministry. The details are inside.” She said.

“I’ll be sure to be in attendance, mother.” He confirmed before resuming his breakfast. The woman casted a worried look at him before turning to Lucius. Things could never go back to the way they once were.

--

The art gala was held on a Saturday evening, and Draco found himself standing in front of a finely decorated building. An air of aristocracy and luxury loomed within the environment--it was an energy that he had been surrounded by all his life. Large columns aligned its front. A red carpet stemming from the entrance had been rolled out, sweeping along a flight of stairs. Familiar faces of esteemed socialites were seen making their way up the steps. Banners had been hung, indicating the gala and a live auction as highlights of the day’s events. 

His only job was to engage in civilized conversation, connect with other high-standing figures, and expand the family network. Simply put, he was there to look pretty.

The feeling of dread overcame him at the thought of immersing himself in socialization. With a begrudging sigh, he straightened his back, briefly smoothened out his suit, and adjusted his cufflinks before trudging up the stairs. Eyes tracked his every step. Despite his emotional wellbeing, the boy still managed to clean up well, creating a facade to those around him. He didn’t bask in the glory, though. He knew he was handsome, he knew he was wealthy, but looks and money were no longer sufficient enough to help him tend to the emptiness he felt on the inside.

The gala itself didn’t begin until 6:00 PM, which was in an hour. Therefore, in hopes to kill time, Draco aimlessly walked through the art displayed for the auction to be held later that night. He carefully observed the numerous crafts with great scrutiny. Paintings were created with much detail--many of them embodying styles from the varying art periods. Sculptures paying great detail to the human body littered the main floor. Hand-crafted furniture were set on display as well, showcasing elaborate ornaments and designs. Mother would like these. He thought. He continued plodding across the exhibit, typically stopping for a mere minute for every submission before walking away. 

It was when he took sight of a humble set of ceramics that he actually stopped to stare. The collection consisted of bowls and pots ranging from small to medium sizes. However, what caught his attention were the traces of gold that coursed through their shapes. They took the form of cracks, which looked too beautiful, too flawless to be such--he couldn’t comprehend them ever being broken at all.

“Do you like them?” A light voice startles him from his thoughts. Standing next to him is a bright-eyed girl whose face he vaguely remembers.

“Y/N Y/L/N? What are you doing here?” He dismisses her question and looks at her with disbelief laced through his voice. The girl was in Ravenclaw when they were still in Hogwarts. Due to the difference in houses and friend groups, there was rarely any interaction between them. Nevertheless, he’s heard countless praises for her artistic talent even as a student, therefore reserved a tinge of respect for her reputation.

“Draco Malfoy! It’s been such a long time!” She beams at him. A breathy laugh escapes him as a polite smile settles on his lips.

“Definitely has been. Were you eyeing this set as well?” He glanced back at the ceramics, contemplating on bidding for them in the auction. The sight of them evoked a warm, admirable energy within him, as though they called for his presence.

“Heavens, no. I actually made them.” Y/N took notice of the way he glanced at them, and shyly rubbed the back of her neck. The boy turned to her with eyes widened in awe of her brilliance—the smile of politeness immediately transitioning to one of sincerity.

“You made these? They’re beautiful!” The comment brought heat to her cheeks. 

“Draco, please. You flatter me so.” 

“I’ll be taking these home without a doubt.” He reassures her. In the moment that he says so, he immediately takes notice of her appearance. Her hair was slicked into a low bun. Her makeup gave her a pleasant dewy look. Gold accessories accentuates her deep emerald evening gown, which only emphasizes her curves as it flows down her body. He couldn’t recall her ever being attractive when they were students—she had always been clad in blue. But, tonight proved that green was definitely her color.

“You look lovely, by the way.” He complimented as his eyes glossed over her. She bit her lip in response to the butterflies that formed in her stomach.

“You always had a way with words didn’t you, Malfoy?” The melodic laugh that she produced, in turn, caused his heart to skip a beat.

“I admit I was a prat, but I’m not joking around this time.” The girl let out another giggle before placing her hand on his shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze. 

“I think you look rather dashing yourself. Unfortunately, though, I have to get going. I’ll see you around?” 

“It would be my pleasure.” Draco watches Y/N’s figure as she walks away. Before she goes any further, she looks over her shoulder and says, “Good luck with the auction!” 

With a small wave and smile, the boy is left in a lighter state.

The gala came and went with Draco thoroughly exhausted from the copious amounts of socialization. Questions regarding connections to his father were asked, business cards were exchanged, and flattery and compliment was a common occurrence amongst these interactions. Nevertheless, the boy’s energy especially drained from the intensity of the auction that occurred towards the end of the night. All the art pieces were valuable and beautiful, however it was only then that he realized that he wasn’t the only one drawn to Y/N’s work. Competition for the highest bid was at an all-time high as number paddles were desperately raised for every price announced. His heart clambered in his chest as the thought of keeping the ceramics seemingly slipped from his grasp. 

“Highest bid for 80,000 galleons! Do we have any takers?” The auctioneer announces. Draco waits for a second to see that no one has raised their paddles. Within the next, he lifts his own confidently. 

“We have a bidder for 80,000 galleons! Do we have any more bidders? No?” At this point, adrenaline coursed through his veins, beads of sweat had formed and fell, and the grip on his paddle tightened, leaving marks on his hand.

The auctioneer proceeds to announce the final countdown, “Final bid for 80,000 galleons! 1, 2, 3, sold to Draco Malfoy!” Relief overcame him while congratulatory praises were given by those nearby. He catches Y/N’s gaze from afar, and throws her a wink, signifying the resolution for the chaotic night.

--

As attendees began to file out of the building, the boy waited in the hall to collect his reward, filling out the form that confirmed the amount he had to pay. With his attention drawn to the slip, he fails to notice Y/N’s presence beside him. She looks over his shoulder, eyes widening at the amount before looking away to suppress the smile that threatens to form on her lips. She never really gave much monetary value to her art before; each one was produced as a product of passion and love. However, the expression that it first brought to Draco’s face, in addition to the amount of effort he put in to attain them, reassures that her work will be well taken care of. She momentarily stares at his broad shoulders before gaining the courage to speak.

“Congratulations!” She says, startling him once again. He takes a second to collect his breath before looking up at her.

“Do you plan on giving me a heart attack, Y/L/N, or is it in your nature to be overly enthusiastic?” The shameless smirk she has on her face, prompts him to release a chuckle. He stands up straight as soon as he signs the piece of paper, engaging his line of vision with hers.

“The way you respond is not my fault, Malfoy.” She answers, playfully shoving her index finger towards his shoulder. He grabs her wrist, and the warmth from his hands, accompanied by the flirtatious gleam in his eyes, prompts her to cast the same expression. She shoots him a coy smile before he releases her from his grasp.

“Would you like to accompany me to the front?” He asks.

“That’d be lovely.” The pair approaches the stage where the volunteers greet them both. They present his items upon confirmation, and proceed to wrap each bowl individually. He lifts one of the unwrapped pieces to his eyes, examining the gold details.

“How’d you manage to pull this off?” He asks, impressed by her craftsmanship.

“It’s a technique called ‘kintsugi’. I learned it while living in Japan for a while after the war,” She says, reaching her hand out for it. He gives it to her.

“You know, these pieces were never supposed to be auctioned off in this gala,” She explains as she delicately traces the lines, “They were so damaged. You can even consider them to be broken beyond repair,” Draco observes as she lifts it to her eye level.

“But obviously, when pieced back together—with all their cracks emphasized by the gold—they have much more value and beauty,” Y/N gives it back to Draco, and he takes it gingerly.

“However, It took a long time for it to come out that way. When you examine the piece before its repair, the first thought in mind would be to discard it. After all, why would anyone bother mending a broken bowl?” She meets his eyes once again.

“These cracks would typically be considered flaws, but at the end of the process the piece is still whole—I’m still whole. They mean a lot to me, and helped me heal from the war and all.” Her line of sight drifts towards the end of her statement, yet the boy catches himself appalled by the passion in her voice. He didn’t expect her to speak so openly, yet the words that flowed from her mouth touch him in a way he can’t comprehend. For once he feels a glimmer of hope budding within. For once, inspiration meets him, and he doesn’t want to lose that feeling she effortlessly provided. 

“I’ll make sure to take great care of them.” He says with much sincerity.

He places the piece back onto the table, and turns back to Y/N to see a sweet smile on her lips.

“I have faith you will.” A knowing look is shared between them--one that makes both hearts flutter in longing to see each other again.

“Do you think we can keep in contact? If it’s alright with you that is. I’d like to become more familiar with this art technique.”

“The Slytherin prince wants to keep in contact with me? Consider me wooed.” Draco rolls his eyes and chuckles at the old title. Before he could respond, she speaks again with more seriousness, “I don’t usually accept visitors in my studio, but I’ll make an exception for you. You can come by sometime, if you’d like.” 

A genuine smile appears on his lips for the second time that night. Out of all the individuals he exchanged contacts with, she by far had been his favorite. He ensured to send her an owl to confirm their meeting, hoping to do so some time next week. 

As they part, she turns back one more time, and calls out to him, “Draco,” The sound of his name perks his head upward

“You should smile more. It’s a lovely sight.” Before he could see her face erupt in a blush, she apparates away. With his new belongings in hand and an obvious grin, he too returns to the manor, feeling elated for the first time in a long while.

--

It was nine o’clock by the time Draco apparated home. Narcissa immediately took notice of his change in aura much to her relief.

“How was the gala, dear?” She asks.

“Quite pleasant this time around, if I’m being honest. I won these at an auction.” Draco stated as he props the box on top of a table. His mother approaches him, attention drawn to the objects when he reveals the contents inside.

She gasps, “Oh my stars, they’re beautiful.”

She picks one up delicately. The expression she had on her face was very much identical to the one he sported when he came across them the first time.

“I knew you’d like them. The artist was a fellow classmate of mine at Hogwarts.”

“Oh? Who is it? I would like to see more from this artist.”

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. Quite brilliant she is.” Mother’s instinct told Narcissa that this girl had her son taken aback. She saw it through the pleasant expression that graced his facial features, which contrasted greatly to the gloomy air that usually accompanied him. Furthermore, there was a decadent tone in his voice, a sparkle in his eyes, and a slight smile present when her name rolled off his tongue. She decided to probe a little bit more.

“House?”

“Ravenclaw.” He responds.

“Very fitting. The craftsmanship in her work is amazing,” The woman’s eyes marveled at the gold.

“How is she?” She asks. The question catches the boy off guard.

“Pardon?”

“How is she doing? Has she been okay since the war?”

“We didn’t touch upon it too much. Although, she mentioned that creating these has helped her heal.” 

“You mean to say that these were broken at one point?” 

“Precisely. She mended them.” At this point, Narcissa was quite taken by the girl as well. 

“You should invite her over one of these days. I’d love to have a cup of tea with her.” Draco quirked a brow at her.

“You’re not going to ask about her blood status?” 

“I would’ve known she was a pureblood from her last name, but times are changing aren’t they not?” Narcissa flashes a tightlipped smile towards her son, to which he responds with a nod of understanding.

“I’ll be going up then. You can keep that one mother. You seem to take a liking to it.” Draco turns on his heel at the end of his statement, carrying the box of ceramic goods under his arm. He wouldn’t acknowledge that times are changing. However, tonight has been the only instance he had felt his life shifting  —from the way he reunited with Y/N, to the way his mother spoke. It was a step forward to redemption, and he felt a little more willing to see where it would go.

The boy sat on his bed, deep in thought. With moonlight shining upon him, he delicately traced the golden lines that streaked the small bowl in his hands. Then with much hesitation, he rolled up his left sleeve and began tracing the blaring curves of the mark that stained his porcelain skin. Its presence resembled shackles that have been chained to his ankles, and the weight of the memories caused him to grimace. However the budding warmth that had seeped within him soothed the negative sensations. Heart palpitations of regret transformed into those of hope. Furthermore, recollection of the girl’s words rang through his mind. It led him to wonder if piecing himself into something better would ever be a viable reality—a dream so tempting to pursue that he brought himself to his desk to start a letter addressed to her.

--

Y/N awoke to a tapping noise on her window. With heavy-lidded eyes, she peeks through her curtains only to be met by an eagle owl. Its wide orbs stared directly at her, and attached to its beak was an envelope. She recalled the conversation she had with a certain platinum-haired boy from the night before, and immediately jolted upward, pushing the window open to let the animal in.

“Do you belong to Draco, love?” It perches itself on her shoulder, and drops the envelope into her hands. A wax seal presents itself with an ‘M’, confirming her inquiry. She opens it with much carefulness, and pulls out the letter inside.

Y/L/N,

How does this Thursday sound? 5:00?

DM

The girl chuckled at how straight-to-the-point he was, while her mind flitted back to their school days. She had always felt neutral about him. In contrast to popular belief, she didn’t think he was quite bad. Despite the harshness behind his actions, his eyes always maintained an undertone of fear. Upon the revelation that the boy was indeed a death eater, the title itself wasn’t what stirred her. Rather, it was the incomprehensible experience that she could merely picture him going through. She was there when he crossed sides. She was no stranger to the distraught look on his face--fear had overtaken him even in that moment. He might’ve been flawed, but it wasn’t without reason.

A cry from the owl broke her out of thought. “Impatient are we?” It blinked in response. Not wanting to keep the bird waiting any longer, she pulls out a piece of parchment and begins to write a response to the letter. 

Y/N inserted the parchment into an envelope, sealed it, and handed it to the owl only after she gave it a treat. As she watched it take flight from her window sill, she contemplated more on the boy. ‘Kintsugi’ the art of broken pieces and precious scars. As thoughts of him lingered, she began to wonder if how he fared ever since the war had drawn to its close. Before she knew it, she carried along with her work, totally occupied with the image of him in mind.

--

Draco’s heart beat like a drum when he skimmed through the contents of Y/N’s response. The feeling of nervous excitement erupted within his stomach up until the moment he stood on her doorstep. Besides the instances in which he’d gone out for his parents, it had been a long while since he stepped foot outside for himself. He took sight of the sheet of clouds that blanketed the sky, the small plants that were scattered on her porch, and the movement of the curtain as wind blew through her open window. 

Mere seconds of waiting were filled with more self-doubt as he tugged on his left sleeve, clenching his forearm soon after. Not much could be guaranteed from this meeting. For all he knew, this might’ve been a one a time thing. However, such thoughts were casted aside once he was greeted with Y/N’s glowing smile.

“Draco! It’s so nice to see you!” She stepped aside to let him in, “Please come in.”

The boy greets her, and looks around her small space. He indulges in the glimpse of her expressive decor--somehow they represented the life that she had built and created for herself over time. 

“Darling, your jaw is going to fall off,” she chuckled, “Come, the studio is in the back.” The girl gestures at him to follow her, and is met with a small building stationed behind the main house. The image of shelves fills his view upon entering. On them were stacks of cracked ceramic—some in large pieces, others in small. Towards the far corner of the room was a pottery wheel, and opposite from it was a small gas kiln. In the middle was a table space with various tools, brushes, lacquer, and gold. The room was as neat as it could be, much to Draco’s surprise.

“This is me.” Y/N turns around with her arms spread out. She then proceeds to pull a stool out for the boy and urges him to sit. He does so, and she stands in close proximity to him, leaning on the table for support.

“I was actually working on a piece before you came.” The girl points to her current project—a vase whose cracks have already been bound.

“What’s the process like?” He asks

“It’s much longer than you think. I learned how to do it the traditional way in Japan, and I haven’t deviated from it ever since.” The boy quirks a brow.

“You mean to say that there are faster methods?”

“There are, however it’s the process I appreciate the most I suppose. Mending takes time after all.” Y/N, who had been looking down at her feet, glances up at him to see his brows furrowed inwardly. 

“Don’t you get impatient?” She nods in reminiscence.

“I used to in the past, but all things worth anything take time, right?” They stare at each other for a moment. Draco, who has longed for the feeling of redemption, looked into the pure intent within her eyes. The silence prompts her to slip a small smile at him. 

“How about you, Draco Malfoy? How have you been?” There it was: The question that he could never answer (not truthfully anyway). Despite being in the center of all his thoughts, he hadn’t developed the courage to face them properly. He was stuck in a routine of living that provided a false sense of security. However, the present brought him to the realization that he had never been secure--not with himself.

“Not as good as what people see at face value.” He said simply.

“I never would’ve thought. Although, I suppose it just shows that we can never truly judge others, huh?”

“Yes, definitely.” He allowed his view on her to linger before speaking again.

“I actually wanted to see the way you worked.” It was her turn to quirk a brow at him.

“And why’s that?”

“To see the mending process.” Y/N remained silent as she analyzed the longing look in his eyes. His silvery orbs conveyed volumes of a history that was left unspoken. 

He continued, “I want to believe that broken things can be mended.” The determination in his eyes reminded her of why she began learning kintsugi in the first place. Behind the determination was hope that longed to be born to fruition. 

“I have one condition,” she said. His eyebrows arched in response.

“You can watch me, but you have to do some mending yourself.” She stepped away at the end of her statement and reached for something on her shelves. When she came back, she grabbed the boy’s hand, and placed a small bowl in his palm. It was a simple piece--still intact--taking on a warm, grey sheen. He looked at her with confusion, only to be met with seriousness. 

“Kintsugi begins when something breaks, and it focuses more on the beauty of the process rather than the outcome. That being said, it requires a lot of patience and acceptance.”

“I’m not an artist, Y/N. It won’t be perfect.” The girl takes hold of his other hand, and cups it within hers firmly. 

“It doesn’t have to be, Draco. The process belongs to you. You just have to trust yourself.” She said earnestly with her grip on him tightening. The warmth from her hands emanated through his skin and into his chest. She stood so close now, her head tilted upward to meet the uncertainty on his face. It made him feel vulnerable, but he stared back into her eyes with much resolve. It was an answer as it is.

Y/N gave him a reassuring smile and stepped away from him.

“I want you to drop that bowl. You don’t have to smash it, just let it fall.” Draco shifted his glance and looked at the bowl hesitantly. After a couple of seconds, he releases his hold, and allows the piece to slip from his fingers. His eyes were trained on it as it fell through the air, meeting its fate with a shattering sound. The bowl that was once intact was now in pieces on the floor, eliciting a familiar ache within him. It had split into five--a large one, one medium, and three more that were much smaller that comprised the object's rim.

As he bent down to pick up the pieces, a new wave of ambition overcame him. Each chip was picked up with much mindfulness, with responsibility, with purpose. When he stood up again, he began to perceive them as a reflection of himself, and gently placed them on the workbench.

Y/N, who witnessed the entire scene, smiled when Draco turned to face her. Her lips were pulled up gently, sweetly, and it evoked rosy feelings inside him. The boy eyed her as she went back to the shelf.

“How do you feel?” She asked. Her back was turned to him as she reached for another bowl. 

“Light.” She smiled at the sound of his response. She returned with a teal-colored bowl in hand. Following his previous actions, she dropped it, allowing the sounds of shatters to fill their ears once more.

“What are you doing?” He asks. 

“You think I’m going to make you do this alone?” The girl bends down as she gingerly picks up the chips of ceramic from the floor. She proceeds to clear out the table, leaving only the utensils to be used to start the process. 

“The materials I use are already here, but we’ll be working only with the lacquer for today.” The two set off to organize their pieces, hearts becoming more aware of one another as time passes on. After everything got sorted out, she demonstrated layering a coat of lacquer to the edges. Draco examined the way the smile instantly left her face, only to be replaced with a focused expression. Her eyebrows lowered, lips in a firm line, sights fixed on the ceramic. He also noticed how languid her fingers were in handling each piece with care. 

The solemnity of the sight is broken as she parts her lips to speak again, “Did you know that the lacquer is toxic?” He shakes his head when she spares him a glance momentarily before setting her gaze back onto the chips. “It’s toxic when wet, therefore much care needs to be taken when you lay it on the edges.” She then takes the smaller pieces and proceeds to add lacquer on them as well.

“However,” She continues, “as it dries, it hardens and mends the bowl perfectly.” She attaches the pieces together, and lifts the bowl carefully to show him. The boy stares at her flawless handiwork--the cracks reveal themselves as mere lines, seemingly invisible to the naked eye. 

“Strange, right? A substance that was once toxic is used to mend. When it dries it restores the product to perfection, and loses its toxicity.” Draco simply nods. It was a hard concept for the boy to grasp, but her words tickled a corner of his heart. How could something so bad be used to restore something that was once whole into perfection? He gazes at his own project while Y/N sets hers down carefully.

She passes the materials to him, observing as he gingerly takes the brush in hand. He dips it into the pool of lacquer, raising a glob of it up from the bottle.

“You don’t need too much, just enough so that the brush is covered completely.” She reached out to grab his hand, to demonstrate what she had meant. After realizing their closeness, however, she turned a shade of pink and stepped back. Draco tried his best to hold back his smile, but failed miserably.

“I’m s-sorry.” She stammered. He chuckled at her. 

“Nonsense, I’m all for this form of instruction.” He said teasingly, eliciting a laugh from her.

“Don’t mind me, just concentrate.” She ordered. Silence loomed, but smiles remained on their faces. Draco continued his work, emulating the way she coated her edges. He gripped each chip firmly while his eyes trailed the movement of the brush. Each second spent felt like darkness was being extracted from within, leaving him light and solemn. With much caution, he then pressed them together, and watched as the product adopted its once flawless form. With an approving look, Y/N explained the proceeding steps, immediately noticing the relaxed expression that had settled on his features. Deciding to take a break, the two embark to the main house to relax.

“Since we have to wait a while, is there anything you want to do? To eat?” She asked as they entered the room. The question, however, was left unanswered due to the sighting of a familiar looking uniform. Hung on her wall was a Ravenclaw robe.  

“You still have it?” He asked, pointing to the article of clothing with his chin. She chuckled and pulled it off it’s hanger.

“Yeah. I found it a couple days ago, and thought I’d try it for old times sake.” She slipped it over her shoulders, pulling the boy through a series of flashbacks from his time in Hogwarts. He recalled passing her by the hallways, getting small glimpses of her sketches, even seeing her vibrant personality shine with her friends.

“You know, I always thought you looked better in green.” He said approaching her.

“You think so?” He nodded.

“It’s a shame that we never really talked much. I think we would’ve been good friends.” She said in response.

“You think so?” 

“Well besides the bullying, yes. I don’t think you’re as bad as people portray you to be.” 

“You give me too much credit, Y/L/N.”

“Maybe you deserve a little more credit than you were granted.” This sparked more warmth within the boy. As she ordered food for delivery, Draco took a seat at her table, his gaze locked on her with the robe still propped on her body. His thoughts drifted as he imagined what might’ve happened if he did befriend the girl. How different would he be if he had her for company? How close would he have allowed their friendship to become? His mind began to wander and he ruminated on the what-could-have-beens, most especially the effect that his receiving of the dark mark would have had on her. His fingers flitted to his arm and rubbed the portion of fabric that covered his mark.

Y/N sat across from the boy, immediately noticing his dazed look.

“What’s on your mind?” She inquires. The boy broke off from his thoughts and refocused his attention to her.

“Just thinking about the past.”

“What of it?” She asked. He looked at her with slight reservation in his eyes.

“How different things would be if we were friends.” Her thoughts lingered on the possibilities for a while before she abandoned them completely. Only one realization came into mind:

“Well, we’re friends now. Perhaps everything that happened in the past was needed for us to meet like this.” She slid off her robe and propped it back on the hanger. 

She continued, “Whatever it is, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now belongs to us.” 

In that moment, a switch flipped in Draco’s mind, and he knew those words would stick to him for a long time. Maybe it wasn’t a chance at redemption that he yearned for--the conversation he had with her made him realize that the chance had always been presented to him--rather it was company. Genuine company. The one that opened their arms for comfort, the one that offered understanding when he couldn’t offer some to himself, the one that provided reassurance that everything was going to be okay. 

She didn’t need to elaborate. Her words conveyed her intent clearly, her eyes blazed with firmness, confidence, and faith in him. The boy closed himself off for way too long out of the fear that he’d be rejected once again. The anxieties that had resulted from the foul glances, derogatory statements, and prematurely formed accusations towards his family locked him away to the only source of comfort that was available to him--himself. How was it possible that he made it through on his own all this time? He barely held on to a thread, and as he crumbled further, so did his grip. And when the grip was no more, he fell into the hollowed body that he was. He allowed his darkness to swallow him, to control him as he mindlessly drifted with each passing day. 

Until now.

Right now, in the stillness of the room, in the comfort of her dining table, in the presence of her worn out Ravenclaw robe, the thread had reconstructed itself. It presented itself as the small smile that softly graced her lips, the scent of clay that lingered on her hands, and his bowl that sat solemnly streaked with cracks in the workshop behind the main house. 

“I suppose you’re right.” The boy showed a smile of relief, which prompted the girl to reach out for his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Here’s to our friendship!”

--

There were very few things that Draco cherished in his life: his family and his solitude. As weeks flew by with Y/N’s company, however, he found that his heart was beginning to create space for her as well. It began subtly with the way he silently observed her actions. She catered to each of her pieces with the same amount of dedication--every detail incorporated with mindfulness, with care, and intention. She exerted a similar effort when it came to guiding him. Every step in the process was taught with much patience. Her soft hands would graze his own in attempts to correct his form, to stabilize his shakiness, and to relieve him of the tension that came with his perfectionistic tendencies.

-flashback-

The sound of Draco’s uneven breaths made themselves aware in Y/N’s presence. She had left him alone to tend to his project and herself to her own. Muscle memory led her to scrape off the excess traces of lacquer from the cracks, while the boy fixed his concentration on sanding the surface of his bowl smooth. Scratching noises filled the air, and only became more amplified as minutes ticked onward. It was unfamiliar to the girl--the action itself shouldn’t have required much energy. With a brow arched upward, and her gaze directed towards him, the sight of furrowed brows and tense lines fill her view, eliciting a chuckle from her.

“You’re going to break the bowl at that rate, Draco.” The boy unclenched his jaw and gave Y/N an exasperated look, increasing the volume of her laughter.

“I told you I won’t be perfect.” 

“What is it that you’re having trouble with?” Y/N asked, as she made her way to his side of the table.

“Some of the excess just won’t budge from its place.” Draco huffed in frustration. She removed the bowl from his grasp, and examined the object. On the other hand, he takes the liberty to step closer to her, his face peering over her shoulder. The heat emanating from his body distracted her, which she responded to by immediately returning her attention to the remnants that resided on its cracks.

“It helps to focus on one spot at a time,” She grabs the crumpled piece of sandpaper laying on the side, and connects its surface to the porcelain. He watches as she uses minimal yet focused motions to scrub at the excess. Slowly but surely the residue clears out, revealing a clean, crisp line. “See?” She turns her head to the side only to be met with his in such close proximity. His breath softly brushes against her skin. His silvery orbs dive deep into her y/e/c ones. The pulses of their heartbeats ring through their ears, and the concentration shifts from the demonstration to one another. 

It’s the apparent flush staining his skin that has her pulling away. 

“Why don’t you try?” She nervously asks. Y/N hands the bowl to the boy, and observes as he attempts to emulate her actions. With motions still stiff and choppy, she finally takes his hand into hers.

“Relax, Draco. You need to be patient with it.” With slender fingers wrapped around the back of his palm, she guides his grip with focused and particular motions. The repetition engrains itself into his muscle memory, and he quickly gets the hang of it. He exhibits relief with every remnant removed. In return, she releases her grip and looks at him with a satisfied expression.

“Thank you.” He says, and he means it. With perfection constantly being expected of him, the feeling of humility that comes with being a beginner is foreign. He had always been pushed into the limelight--the weight of his family name designates the image of flawlessness, elegance, and poise in all that he did. No room for mistakes. He was required of only the best. So, when he looks at her and gazes at his hands, a genuine smile spreads on his lips. 

The expectation for perfection may have taunted his past, but the realization of his commitment in giving his best brought out a clear sense of victory despite the imperfect process that had been associated with it.

--

Some days are tougher than others. The nightmares make it difficult to get through the night regardless of how infrequent they became. It always resulted in him waking up, broken into a cold sweat. Goosebumps peppered his skin, the hair behind his neck stood straight, and he would gasp for air. With regret once again overcoming him, a weight forms in his throat--it’s impossible to go to sleep now. Moreover, the fear for the lack of a peaceful slumber keeps him wide awake until sunrise, and there is only one word that shouts at him in the back of his mind.

“Mudblood.”

“Mudblood.”

“You filthy mudblood!”

The sayings are coupled with the memory of his back pressed onto the cold, wet, bathroom floor. He could recall the stinging sensations that pricked his body, the sight of blood seeping through the white fabric of his uniform, and the energy that was draining from his spirit. It was the lowest he has ever been--mere moments away from what could’ve been his end. Maybe that’s what should’ve happened. There was no one for him to turn to--the warmth of his mother’s arms was so far away, the act of shedding tears was sacrificed to protect his family, and the fact that he was already repulsive in the eyes of others caused his hope to plummet. There wasn’t anyone who he could call his true friend--one he could confide in to relieve the burdens he had faced.

But there was Y/N. The erratic heartbeats that rang against his chest subside when he remembered the firmness within her voice as she cheered for their friendship. The sparkle and reassurance that was displayed within her eyes tickled his heart in a way that he hadn’t experienced before. The soft touch of her hands reminded him that he wasn’t alone. The patience in her voice reminded him that despite all of his shortcomings, there was always hope for change. 

It was then that he’d pluck himself out of bed, and take hold of the ceramic piece that laid prettily on his desk. With deep breaths, he ran his fingers through its golden streaks, allowing the chilled sensation to calm him down. His eyelids would flutter close, and he’d envision her soft smiles, her chipper personality, and the passion that was expressed through her eyes whenever she worked. He’d recall the worn-out Ravenclaw robe hanging on the wall of her dining room, and remember that she was there. She believed in him. She had given him a chance. With his mind set to ease and the morning sun illuminating through the fabric of his curtains, Draco picked up his own broken pieces, and binded himself with the faith she had as the lacquer to keep him together. 

Narcissa and Lucius had noticed subtle changes in the boy. A peaceful light had returned to his silvery eyes, the frown that graced his lips began to fade with time, and the tension that he held in his joints loosened. He treaded the halls with his back upright, his vision trained straight ahead--each step filled with more purpose than the last. They didn’t make it known to him, but the sight brought them much joy.

--

It was a cloudy day when Draco returned to Y/N’s workshop. This time around, however, there’s much more uncertainty and nervousness within him as he stands in the midst of her working. 

Earlier that morning, Narcissa mentioned hosting a ball within the manor (something that hasn’t been done in forever). Invitations were sent out already, the RSVP list continues to grow, and the property itself has been decorated to exhibit its new grandeur. Of course, he agreed to it--slightly concerned about how they’d be perceived--but he was more thrown off by his mother’s only request:

“Please bring Y/N with you, Draco. I’d like to commission her for a piece.” In his mind that translated into, “I want to meet the girl you’ve been constantly visiting.” He knew his mother wasn’t against her. He was more worried about how Y/N, herself, would respond.

The familiarity of her focused expression surfaces, and it attracts him much more than it has before. Her hands are nimble, and she moves fluently. Her hair was tied into a low and messy bun with loose strands framing her face. Her appearance now was much different than their first meeting at the gala, yet his mind went back to that night--picturing her beauty in her deep emerald green dress. With his feelings for her more clarified, he feels his heart beat at the thought of her touch, moreover the thought of his touch on her. Would she even return his feelings? 

“Draco, are you alright? You’ve been staring this way for a while now.” He takes the opportunity to test the waters.

“I needed to ask you something actually.” He goes around and pulls a stool to sit on, meeting the level of her gaze.

“And that is?”

“My mother asked for you,” He said, fumbling with his fingers, “My family is hosting a ball, and she wants you to come--she wants to meet you.” He notices the way her eyes widen at the sound of his announcement. 

“I’m sorry. Come again?” Draco released a soft chuckle before reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a decorated envelope with her name printed on the front.

“This is yours.” She takes it from his grasp gingerly and brushes her fingers on the fine embellishments. Realization hits her when she skims across the familiar letters of her name.

“I’ve imagined many things in my life, but they certainly don’t come close to this. Wow, imagine being invited to a Malfoy ball.” Her words flowed out with awe, softening his heart. He reaches out, and tucks one of the loose strands behind her ear. The action forces her to look into his eyes.

“She’s taken quite a liking to your work.” His smile brings out one of her own.

“I’m honored.” She starts to beam, “I should go dress shopping soon.” Her eyes remain transfixed on the information given on the actual invite itself.

“I think you’d look beautiful in anything you decide to wear.” It was meant to be a thought--meant to stay in his head--but it came out, and now the girl felt her face get hot. She covered it with her hands, while the boy just looked up at the ceiling to avoid her gaze.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” He says.

“It’s fine.” 

“If it’s fine then why are your hands still covering your face?”

“Why are you still looking up?” Draco, lowers his chin and pulls her wrists away.

“I’m not anymore.” When the words leave his lips, and his eyes meet hers, he becomes aware of the amount of peace that he attained since meeting her again. In some way, the silence that fills them is overtaken by the messages that their gazes send to one another, both containing gratitude and affection. 

“So will you come with me?” He asks.

“Definitely.”

--

 Y/N paced back and forth while many aristocrats stepped into the manor with much poise in their step. She didn’t mind formal events when it came to art, however, this case felt entirely foreign to her realm of comfort. She wasn’t from a wealthy family nor was she pureblooded either. Surely the end of the war had initiated a shift in change, but the significance of blood status still persisted in some even after. Nevertheless, she made herself present. With much resolve and a false sense of confidence, she stepped into the entrance of the building.

The foyer was bustling with chatter--many attendees stood with glasses of champagne in hand. Still in an awkward stature, the girl takes a look around. The ceilings were decorated with crystal chandeliers. Velvet curtains were pulled to the side, exposing massive windows. Arches, columns, even the walls were covered with ornamental carvings. Every single aspect portrayed luxury. Whenever Draco visited the girl, she discarded his association to wealth and solely focused on him as a person. Because of this, the realization that the boy actually had some coin in his pockets hit her like bricks. 

Draco, who had kept his eyes locked on the girl, chuckled to himself. She stuck out from the crowd with her eyes widened in awe. Not to mention her attire. Her hair was kept straight down with golden clips holding it tucked behind her ear. Furthermore, she was dressed in a champagne mermaid gown speckled with beads and embroidery, which flourished outwards and into a sheer fabric decorated with similar details. Her neckline plunged into the middle of her abdomen, yet her shoulders remained covered with long sleeves that wrapped themselves fittingly around her wrists. She truly had the tastes of an artist.

He quietly made his way to her as she continued to gawk at the room. “Your jaw is going to drop, darling.” He whispered in her ear. The feeling of large hands planting themselves on her waist caused her to let out a small yelp, pulling her out of her daze. She let out a breath of relief when she turned to see Draco’s face. 

“You scared me.”

“You were gawking at the walls.” Y/N rolled her eyes, and briefly skimmed him from head to toe. Heart skipping at the way his suit had admiringly framed his shape well. She giggled at the sight of the snake brooch that embellished the collar of his jacket.

“Always a Slytherin, aren’t you Malfoy?” As she brushed her fingers along the details of its design, Draco reached for her hand, and held it by her fingers. She could only stare as he lifted it higher to press his lips on it. Butterflies were felt everywhere.

“And a charmer.” She added. They shared a quick laugh before being interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Standing before them was Narcissa, who beamed at the sight of her son with the girl beside him.

“You must be Y/N Y/L/N. I admire your work, dear.” The older woman stuck her hand out, which the girl shook firmly.

“Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Please, call me Narcissa.” The delight in her voice emitted a welcoming energy, loosening the nerves that Y/N felt early on.

“Thank you so much for inviting me, Narcissa.” 

“It was no problem at all, dear. I’d actually like to speak to you regarding a commission later on tonight. Would that be alright with you?”

“Of course! I’m honored you’d even considered me.”

“Very well, I’ll leave you two alone now. I hope you enjoy yourselves.” Sweet smiles and gazes were exchanged between the two women. After casting a knowing look to her son, she departs from the pair, disappearing into the crowd. 

“Draco, I’ll have you know that I can’t dance to save my life.” He snickered at her confession, already letting the comfort between them settle in.

“It’s alright. Let’s walk instead.” With arms hooked, Draco begins leading her away from the bustling room and into a secluded hall. Mounted on the walls were paintings of his predecessors. He introduced each patriarchal figure to her, starting with Septimus. Her vision plastered itself to their features, mentally discerning the traits that Draco inherited. After a while of walking and conversation, they finally got to a family portrait. Depicted on it was a younger-looking Lucius and Narcissa, and seated on his mother’s lap was a young Draco himself. Y/N unhooked her arm from his, and approached the painting. She concentrated on the little boy. He had bright eyes, a toothy grin, and flowing platinum locks. His hand gripped firmly on Narcissa’s, and his small legs dangled over her dress. He was the only one smiling in the painting, and it warmed your heart knowing that the artist decided to keep that detail in.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” He asks, stepping close. He hesitantly snaked his arm around her waist, hoping that she didn’t mind. She looked up to him and smiled, stepping even closer to him. 

“You were so small.” Draco scowled slightly. However, his heart skipped a beat when he saw the way she looked at the portrait with adoration, allowing his foul expression to fade.

“Well that was painted when I was seven, so it’s no wonder I was small.” His sarcastic remark caused her to roll her eyes again, softly slapping the hand that was planted on her. He glanced at her and squeezed her side tighter, pulling Y/N even closer to his body--his warmth increasing the amount of butterflies that rose in her stomach.

“When I walked in earlier, it completely slipped my mind that this was your house. That you grew up here.”

“Why’s that?” He asks, genuinely interested in her response.

“Everytime you came over, I only saw you as Draco. Not as Draco Malfoy, only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and heir to the Malfoy family name.” 

“Please elaborate.” He commands, his heart now racing.

“You’re more than the expectations held for you. You came with commitment to learn about a process that you were genuinely interested in. You grew with your mistakes and your frustrations. That experience was you, and you alone.” She couldn’t help but reveal that admiration she had for him through her voice. 

“I thought it was amazing.” She whispered, hoping that he wouldn’t hear her. He did, however. In turn, he grabbed her hand and led her further down the hallway and into his room. Y/N stood there confused at his sudden action. Her eyes then begin to widen at the sight of him removing his suit jacket with her mind drifting to rather dirty thoughts. 

“Draco, what are you-” 

“I didn’t think it was possible.” Y/N furrowed her brows.

“What do you mean?” Draco looked into her eyes, before shifting his gaze to his left sleeve. Her line of sight follows him as he unbuttons his cuff, and rolls the fabric up, revealing his dark mark. She gasps.

“I didn’t think it was possible to mend myself.” It didn’t take him to say much for her to finally understand that he didn’t intend to do anything dirty. It was the opposite of that. He was making himself vulnerable to her.

“But you showed me how.” He said, completing his statement. Tears brimmed her eyes upon the realization of the reality he had to live. The blaring mark that took away his innocence screamed against his pale skin. It screamed of the pain, of loneliness, and the many many long sleeved shirts he must’ve worn to keep it hidden away. 

“If there’s anyone amazing, it’s you, Y/N.” The tears that had built up fell as she furiously shook her head.

“No, Draco. It’s you. It’s all you.” She took his arm delicately into her hands and pressed her lips on his dark mark. Draco felt his eyes well up in tears, while her own spilled onto his skin. Every kiss that she peppered seemed to paint over his scars, his cracks with gold. The feeling of emptiness dissipated in her presence, only surrounding him with warmth that he had yearned to keep.

“I’m thankful for you.” He whispers. Y/N couldn’t hold herself back at that point anymore. She released his arm from her grip, and held his cheeks within her fingertips, wiping the moisture that managed to fall from his silvery orbs. She, then, slowly lifts herself using her tiptoes, and scans his face for a moment before pressing a sweet, short kiss on his lips. It was gentle, much like her. It was patient, much like her. It was filled with faith, hope, and concern--things that she hadn’t been able to express to him in words, yet was felt through her kiss. Draco closed his eyes at the sensation. When she parted from him, he cupped her face with his hands, and drew her close once more. A sigh escaped her as she felt all the emotions he managed to keep in. Each press conveyed a level of appreciation that the boy had never thought he was capable of showing. 

In that moment a memory of a shrill shout fills her mind, and she stops so suddenly.

“Weren’t you struck with sectumsempra?” She asks with her brows furrowed towards him. His lack of response confirms her curiosity. 

“May I?” Her fingers trail to the top of his shirt as she makes her request. Knowing what it is she wants to see, he nods, prompting her to carefully undo the buttons. Her hands tremble as she makes her way down, revealing the scars that resided on his body. She pushes the fabric over his shoulders, and begins tracing each one--much similar to the way he has done with the golden cracks on her bowl. She slowly lowers herself and starts placing kisses where he has been struck. With her hands gently fastened to his sides, her lips linger in one area before transferring to another. He finds comfort in them--it was as if each sensation reassured that he was loved. As she travels upward, she plants a kiss on his jaw, and a final one on his own. With it she expresses a message dedicated only to him: I believe in you.

They separate and bask in the moment by holding each other’s gaze. After a while, Draco wraps his arms around her waist, and pulls her into a tight embrace. He nuzzles his nose on the crook of her neck and kisses it, while she runs her hands up and down his bare sides. His left hand then finds its way to her jaw, tilting her face upwards. He proceeds to nip the expanse of her neck, making her head fall back to grant him more access. The hand that was wrapped around her waist travels downwards to her hip, grips it, and presses her body against his. 

“Draco,” she moans.

“Hm?” She doesn’t respond. She finds herself completely intoxicated by his lips as he moves from her neck, her sternum, and to her exposed abdomen. Instead, she laced her fingers into his hair and pushed him closer to her skin. 

The pair was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door. 

“Young master! Are you in there?” It was a houself. Draco presses a finger to his lips, signalling to remain quiet.

“I don’t think he’s there, we should check elsewhere.” Light footsteps were heard fading into the distance, eliciting a light laugh between the two. Y/N looks into his eyes once more, and kisses him one last time.

“Should we go?” He responds with a small ‘yes’ and kisses her forehead. As he buttons his shirt, the girl plods across his room, fascinated with its luxuriousness as she takes in the details. One of them causes her to gasp, however. She walks with her throat choking up at sight of the familiar bowl that was placed on his desk. It was hers. She lifts it gently, recalling their first conversation at the gala. The golden scars remind her heavily of the boy behind her. As she traces them, warm hands rub against her sides before snaking around her waist once more. 

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” Y/N laughs at his question.

“I suppose it does.” She says as she weaves her fingers into his. The boy takes a moment to stare at the bowl ahead.

“When you said that Kintsugi helped you heal, I wasn’t quite sure to believe you or not. But, going through the process was more than enough to make me understand why.”

“You truly are amazing Draco Malfoy. I won’t let anyone tell me you aren’t.”

“Even if my past is completely flawed?”

“Your past made you into who you are right now. What we have is ‘now’, and ‘now’,” she sets the bowl down and faces him, while her hand caresses his cheek. “...‘now’ belongs to us. Now you are amazingly, wonderfully, imperfectly perfect.”

Epilogue:

The sound of Y/N’s words rung in his mind as Draco found himself standing in the middle of her workspace. With a firm grasp on the brush handle, he dips the bristles into the gold liquid, allowing the excess to drip back.

He takes a deep breath, and allows the solemnity of the room to fill him. Many thoughts overtake him in the moment, but only one makes itself prominent to him, resilience. After going through the binding process himself, he pridefully lays down the gold over the cracks on his bowl--each one portraying the imperfections of his past.

A/N: Hi! If you made it this far, I want to thank you so much for reading! There’s a bit of inaccuracy in the last bit, but besides that I hope I brought much light to the technique in general. I hope you enjoyed!! Feedback is very much appreciated :D

Tagging:

@beiahadid @hahee154hq @mushi98 @stretchyice @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @saby06143 @rottenhexrt @littlethie @amithatemo

Link to the taglist is on my masterlist :D

[moonlit-han]

stray kids’ reactions to their s/o having a bad relationship with their parents ↠ all members

genre: reaction, angst, hurt/comfort word count: 3k warnings: brief descriptions or mentions of verbal/emotional/physical abuse, emotional manipulation, dysfunctional family relationships, alcoholism, swearing request: yes a/n: to the one who requested this: i hope that, if you have a dysfunctional or abusive relationship with your parents, you’re able to leave the environment safely. or, that the behavior changes or stops soon. make sure that you have somewhere safe you can go and at least one other person you can talk to and who can help you. be safe, darling!

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

bang chan

chan would be in utter disbelief that people could act like that

he kept repeating that parents should care about their children

that the yelling and screaming should stop

he would, honestly, have a very low opinion of your parents from the moment he found out everything they’d said and done

he’d not be one to make rash judgements about people,

but there are some lines he holds firm on

you’d long ago learned to go blank when your parents started on their shit

it didn’t matter if it was aimed at you

or at each other

but yelling, blaming, and cussing wasn’t at all what you wanted to experience or be around

chan would make damn sure to be there anytime you had to visit your parents

he didn’t want you to feel alone and small ever again

he had very clear boundaries with your parents

(not that they really respected them, though)

but that didn’t stop him from walking right out of the house, your hand in his, if they tried controlling him

chan had long ago perfected the art of getting you out of your parents’ house at the first sign of trouble

he’d always know when something bad was about to happen between you, too

chan would do everything in his power to make you feel better every time you were feeling shitty because of your parents

he firmly believed that no parent should stifle their child like that

and should never yell or strike you

n e v e r

and don’t get him started on the emotional manipulation

.......

he’d always comfort you after seeing your parents on those rare times courtesy required you to see them

the day you’d told chan all the abuse you’d endured, he simply held you as the both of you cried and cried

and he’d held you all that night, too

really, chan would hold you every single night

and soothe your frantic breathing when the nightmares caught up with you

once, he’d used a phrase that your mother was fond of when she was trying to guilt you into doing things,

you’d gone blank and stopped hearing him

from that day forward, he never used the phrase around you again

chan was adamant that the two of you would not act like your parents in any way

if he was upset, he’d go for a walk and then come back later to talk calmly about whatever had been upsetting

he never took things out on you

no emotional manipulation whatsoever

and the idea of laying hands on someone in anger was abhorrent to him

chan would be absolutely committed to making you feel safe and loved

lee minho

minho was, honestly, pissed

he was pissed that you were dealing with shit from your parents

he was pissed that you didn’t seem to have a chance to rest these days

he was pissed that he felt utterly useless in the face of your unhappiness

he’d noticed that you gazed into space more than usual

that you were sleeping more

all minho wanted to do was comfort you

but you were keeping to yourself

and, worst of all,

not asking for help from him

when you came home from work late with your eyes red-rimmed

minho immediately picked you up in his arms

and took you into the bedroom to cuddle you

over the next hour, he listened as you explained how you’d gone to your parents’ house

and how they hadn’t let you get a word in edgewise

that wasn’t anything new, and, all things considered, they hadn’t treated you too badly

at least no one had decided to slap sense into you

as you’d tried to tell them that you’d just moved in with minho

you wanted them to be happy for you,

but they were scornful and insisted that you were too young at 23

that you were throwing your life away by moving in with your boyfriend

you didn’t care

not really

but something in you needed them to know.

so now that you were back home

and in minho’s arms, you completely fell apart

more than you’d fallen apart on the drive home

you’d only let yourself sniffle as you drove bc you knew you’d crash otherwise

but now you could cry and cry and cry

and let yourself get tugged into the torrent of emotion that flowed through you

minho just rubbed your back and murmured sweet nothings to you

then helped you shower and change into your pajamas

before tucking you under the covers

so you could finally let yourself rest

meanwhile, minho made you some tea and a couple pieces of toast

hoping the honey he’d smeared on top would help you feel better

but really, just needed his arms around you

seo changbin

you’d been at your parents’ for a family gathering

and came back home with a blank look in your eyes

knowing that things were strained between you and your parents,

changbin was ready to support you however you needed

you kind of fell into his arms

and just started crying

your body shook and it took long minutes for you to calm down

changbin wasn’t quite sure what he could do,

besides comfort you and make sure you were safe

he was angry that the situation between you and your parents was worse than he’d known

as you gulped out the story of your mother taking you into the kitchen

and hissing thinly veiled insults, telling you that you were selfish,

changbin heard the blood pound in his ears

if he could make your mother shut up, he would

he wished the two of you could live together

but you were still in college and couldn’t exactly do that easily

so, he hoped that all the time you spent together

and the fact that you were taking so many classes

was enough to get you through still living at home

it was still hell for you, though

you hadn’t realized how bad it was until you started dating changbin

and he’d told you that no, your parents trying to guilt you into not going to college in favor of taking care of them was not normal nor okay

you were glad you had changbin to give you perspective

he was the sweetest man you’d ever met

and you were in awe of how he fought for your right to autonomy

you couldn’t resist feeling overwhelming tenderness for him

all he wanted to do was treat you with as much respect and love as he could

like chan, changbin was incensed that parents would treat their child, or children, like that

and would definitely have a few sharp words to say to your parents

he wouldn’t exactly care about the consequences

there were simply things that were acceptable and some that weren’t

and he cared about you too much to not say something

he would do small, sweet things for you

just to see you smile all the more often

changbin made a point to tell you just how much he loved you

every

single

day

hwang hyunjin

as hyunjin watched you crumple on the doorstep of your house

he knew something was wrong

rage filled his mind when he saw you crying so brokenly

he had no idea what had happened

but he could guess and it made him

utterly furious

how dare they

how dare your father be such a bastard

if hyunjin could, he would spirit you far, far away from home

he wanted you to be safe

hhhhhhhhhhh

………….

he strode forward and sank down on the step next to you

you tried not to rely on hyunjin too much

the last thing you wanted was to be codependent

but with such a crappy home situation

you needed some sort of support

and your boyfriend was the best support you could ask for.

he was understanding

he would fight for you as long as he could

and wanted to make all the hurt you’d experienced go away

he knew that wasn’t necessarily possible

bc emotional wounds are difficult to heal

and need a long time to work through

but he’d be there for you

with his warm arms around you,

things seemed a bit less bleak

but you still couldn’t believe that your father had just threatened to throw you out of the house and to hit you

to punch your lights out

your mother had tried to intervene

but he simply wouldn’t listen

you’d grabbed your phone and just kept inching toward the door

hoping you’d make it before anything bad happened

so now you were there on the stoop, sobbing

you hadn’t even noticed hyunjin until his arms were around you

he’d been on his way to come see you

but now he was your protector

he held you like a piece of pottery that had broken

and he was putting you back together

like you were now kintsugi

a piece of pottery that was broken but now repaired with gold

the unseen cracks in your soul slowly,

so slowly

being filled with hyunjin’s care and love

han jisung

jisung would be the one to sneak you out of the house at midnight

just so he could see you

and so you could have time free of your parents’ control

you’d go to the park near his house

and sit under the trees or feed the ducks

as soon as he got his license

and could drive others around

he’d come pick you up to go to school 

and drive you home,

making damn sure to take all the longest routes he could

you’d told your parents that you had an after-school club,

one that lasted all the way until 5 pm,

all just so you could spend time with jisung

and not be at home

you’d spent many a night with jisung,

crawling back into bed early in the morning after having slept together in the back seat of his car

his parents weren’t too fussed about what he did,

especially since they knew your parents treated you like shit.

in the spring semester of your senior year of high school,

jisung’s parents had invited you to simply live at their house instead of your own

or, at least spend the weekends there

it helped

it more than helped, since you were happier than you’d ever been when you finally brought as many of your things as possible to jisung’s

it was lucky that jisung’s parents were such wonderful advocates of your safety.

they spoke to your parents and convinced them to let you spend more time with jisung

….granted, they neglected to tell your parents that jisung was your boyfriend of three years

but that didn’t matter

a good friend would do much the same for you

so, you practically moved in with jisung for that semester as you applied for colleges

and finally gone a week without shaking

jisung was determined to help you work through the anxiety your parents’ treatment had done to you

anytime loud noises made you start shaking or freeze up,

jisung would just calm you by cuddling you

and distracting you with any and everything he could think of

in time, jisung’s presence and love helped you heal

lee felix

felix wouldn’t understand why anyone would want to be so mean

what was the point?

when you’d started dating…

felix tried to be kind to your parents, he really did!

but when you’d brought him with you to see your parents

and you’d gripped his hand so hard that he was afraid his circulation would be cut off,

he knew something was wrong

felix had whispered, “you okay, babe?”

but you’d only been able to grip his hand harder

felix had just politely made an excuse about needing to go somewhere

and gotten you both out of there

you’d explained everything on the way home,

felix simply holding your hand the whole time

and trying not to cry

you’d gotten used to the shit your parents threw at you

but with felix’s heartfelt response

and his support,

you really did think about how wrong and twisted it was.

the alcoholism in your mother’s family had finally manifested

and turned your mother into....

just a bit of a monster

you were far too used to hiding in your room as she raged downstairs

and then ignoring the reek of alcohol that lingered in the carpet the next morning

it was difficult to get through school sometimes

but felix being there definitely helped

he’d bring you little crystals that he’d left out in fresh water and moonlight

to help clarify your energy and mind

slowly but surely as felix was more solidly your boyfriend

his support was invaluable

he was there for you when you needed him

and understanding when you needed time to yourself

felix read up on how to help people deal with emotional trauma

and made sure to employ strategies he’d read.

he didn’t want to do the wrong thing,

didn’t want to inadvertently hurt you

((not that he’d ever be capable of that, though))

he would give you all the cuddles he could

felix would literally try to cuddle the sad out of you

he was convinced he could do it akhfdsjfhg

when his arms were around you,

you believed his cuddles would make everything better

and honestly, they did

felix’s capacity to love was endless

kim seungmin

seungmin, like minho, would be so damn angry

and i mean,,,,,

a n g r y  p u p

akdfghkjsdfhgakfdghsdkjf

he wouldn’t put up with any shit from your parents

and it didn’t help that they were totally against you having a boyfriend

for every reason they could think of

if either of them said anything shitty to you in his presence

he would be like a simmering cauldron of rage

seungmin never

and i mean never

would dream of yelling around you

or at you

or anything like that

any rage he felt toward your parents wouldn’t be let out anywhere near you

seungmin knew better than to do that

he didn’t want to trigger something in you.

whenever your parents were particularly horrible

seungmin would just hold you

you’d moved as far away as you could from home

and then met seungmin

so when the two of you travelled,,,,,

reluctantly;;;

to your parents’ home for any important holiday or birthday or whatever

((even though you really didn’t want to be anywhere near them))

seungmin became all the more protective of you

when seungmin felt you were becoming overwhelmed by the controlling and manipulative behavior of your parents,

and when you’d tried and tried and tried to set boundaries with them

but they still wouldn’t listen,

he would hold you all night long

so tightly you thought you would burst

but burst with contentment and the feeling of absolute safety

yang jeongin

jeongin’s caring and sweet nature only extended so far

he had no love for your parents

none at all

you’d told him all the ways in which they’d scarred you

emotionally, physically;;;;

and he’d felt like he was about to explode

he’d thrown his arms around you and just repeated “i’m sorry” over and over again

jeongin would try to be mature about the situation

but also wanted to just scream

he’d dutifully write down all your triggers

and make damn sure to never cause you to feel uncomfortable because of him

but jeongin would also be unsure as to how to deal with your parents

while he’d want to confront them,

he also wouldn’t have the experience to deal with bad relationships

not because he’s young or anything

just that his life is full of love

he’d want to protect you

and make sure you’re okay at all times

jeongin wouldn’t give a shit about what your parents thought of him

why should he when they treat you poorly?

he’d probably buy you little sweets

so that if you’re having a bad day,

at least you have something tasty

and he’d try to come up with things to take your mind off your parents

and sometimes that would just be kissing you

sweetly and soundly

so that all you could think about

and feel

and know

is him and all the love he feels for you

[realm-sweet-realm]

The Friendly Long Horse

Long Horse is a character created by Trevor Henderson. Please support his works.

---

I was leaning against a fence, watching my wife’s two horses graze in the field. The brown one, Buttercup, trotted over to me for pats. I reached out to pet her, and her lips peeled back from her teeth. She bit down hard, and tugged off my hand. I pulled my arm away, screaming. My hand disappeared into her mouth. Her ear flicked, her eyes were calm. Like nothing was abnormal about this. Then, she put her head through the fence and bit my arm. Before I knew it, I was being pulled through the fence and into her mouth, bit by bit, until she’d consumed all of me.

I woke up.

A dream. Of course. If it weren’t a dream, I would have run away once she’d eaten my hand, and she wouldn’t have put her head through the barbed-wire fence, anyhow. Of course, that’s all pretty silly to mention considering that no horse, but especially not Buttercup, would casually eat a human alive.

In the early morning darkness, I noticed what looked like a horse skull, with no jaw and a few strands of black mane, peaking out from behind my door. I dismissed it as a trick of the light and went back to sleep.

The next morning, the horse skull was still there, staring at me.

Unsure what to do, I approached the door. The skull vanished the second I opened it, as though it was never there. It had moved, as though by teleportation, to peeking out at me from behind a corner before the staircase. That’s how it was all morning- the horse skull was always there, watching from behind something, disappearing whenever necessary. I value my privacy, so I tried pushing it out while I was in the shower, but it vanished right before I could touch it, appearing at the other side of the shower curtain.

It was with me on my way to work, peering from behind lamp posts as I drove. I turned on the radio. Turned it way up. This had to be a hallucination. An entire horse could not fit behind a lamp post. Not to mention everything else wrong with this. I sincerely hoped that I wasn’t losing my mind.

The thing is, this didn’t map onto any mental illness I knew of, and as a psychology PhD who has worked for years at an insane asylum, I would know. People who have hallucinations don’t know that they’re having hallucinations, and any psychotic disorder you could name comes with other symptoms, like slurred speech and delusions. Of course, the person is not always aware of these symptoms- my clients have often said that the first sign of an episode starting is that strangers treat them differently.

I did not want people to treat me differently, so I did not mention the horse skull to any sane human being. However, I did mention it to one of my clients that day, while administering an ink blot test.

“Do you see the horse skull?” I asked.

My client, a slack-jawed 28-year-old man who looked twice his age, squinted at the ink blot photo that I held in my hand.

“No. I mean the one over there.” I pointed to it. He looked over his shoulder and then back at me.

“No. Should I?” he asked.

“No. No, that’s a good sign,” I said. I felt as though the skull were mocking me.

Every night for the next three nights, I had nightmares of dying at the hooves of a horse. I’d been trampled. I’d ridden horses off of cliffs or into incoming traffic. I’d even had a horse drown me in his trough.

Each morning I would wake up to that damned skull, and I was able to sense her in a new way. On the first day, I became capable of smelling her- she smelled like cinnamon and rotting bone. The next, I became capable of hearing her make her little snorts and whinnies. On the next, a fog descended upon everything in my immediate environment, and I felt that it was a part of her.

I didn’t know what to do. To be frank, I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to spend my evenings on the other side of the insane asylum walls. I didn’t think it would help, anyhow- I’d had time by now to thoroughly consult the DSM-V, and if I were crazy, it was a type of crazy that no one had bothered to study or cure yet.

On the fifth day I spent with that skull watching me, I came home in the evening to a message written across my bedroom wall in black:

Go ride Blackjack.

I went. I felt insane for obeying the message, but I went.

Blackjack is ostensibly my horse. My wife had thought Buttercup was lonely, and that it would be nice for us to ride horses together, and so she bought a black gelding that was big enough for me to ride. I found out pretty quickly, though, that riding is not at all my thing, and so Blackjack hasn’t been ridden in a couple years. She tells me that he’s perfectly happy just running around the pasture, and she’s the one that would know. She grew up on and inherited this farm- I’m just some city mouse that she met at college.

Once I got to the stable, the first obstacle presented itself: I didn’t know where his saddle was, and even if I did, I had no idea how to put it on. The horse skull peered me from behind a wooded post and patted Blackjack’s back with her chin.

“Bareback?” I asked.

She nodded in response.

I prayed that I wasn’t committing some sort of horse abuse, took Blackjack out, and got on him. He started galloping immediately. My heart nearly stopped. This was like too many of my nightmares.

Blackjack took me down a dirt road until we came to a wooded area. By then, the sun was setting, and combined with the fog that I’d become used to squinting through, it was making it difficult to see. We entered the wooded area. And there was what she meant to show me.

Approaching the corpse under the giant, rotted tree, I desperately hoped that it was just a big deer. As soon as those solid, round hooves came into view through the mist, though, I knew better. It was Buttercup, her ribs torn open. Her body was cold, and yet there were no tooth marks on her. She was perfectly preserved except for a surgical-looking slit on her belly, and the fact that her ribs looked to have been torn open and then put vaguely back into place.

My wife would be devastated, and what was more, I now had to face that I wasn’t crazy. Something supernatural was happening, and I didn’t know what.

The horse skull was floating next to me now- the first time I saw her and she wasn’t hidden from me. She tapped me on the shoulder and then floated over to a patch of dirt. Her mist parted, revealing a message constructed from Buttercup’s intestines.

LEAVE WHILE YOU STILL CAN

I got back onto Blackjack, who gave me a swift ride home. I said nothing of the event to anyone, even when my wife mentioned that Buttercup was missing and called the police over it. I did not sleep that night. It didn’t feel safe. I thought about waking her up and getting her to leave with me, but how would I explain to her that I wanted to leave home because a horse skull had led me to a message spelled out in Buttercup’s remains? Finally, I came up with an excuse.

“Sharol?” I said, shaking her awake. “We should leave. Whoever took Buttercup is probably still out there. We’d be safer somewhere else until the police can come and take a look at what happened.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, still snuggled into bed. “We’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.”

I’d known it was a long shot. Still, I didn’t want to leave her. “Please. I feel like we might not be safe here.”

“It’s two in the morning,” was all she said.

I... left without her. I shouldn’t have. I was still in the mindset that this wasn’t quite real, I guess. I was going to leave for a motel, but the fog on the road was incredibly thick. I could see nothing but white all around me. The horse skull appeared in front of me on the road, and it seemed to be backing up at the same pace as I was going towards it. Finally, I got out of the car. The skull approached me, and a few feet of spine appeared behind it. It- no, she, I knew it was a she now, somehow- encircled me. I was expecting something awful to happen, but nothing did. The words, “It has arrived. Stay here if you want to live,” appeared to me in the mist.

Of course, I wanted to go back for Sharol. And I got into the car despite the horse’s protests, but I couldn’t find the turn-off to our house in all of the fog. 

“Get rid of it!” I yelled at the horse skull. “I know you can! Get rid of this fog so that I can go back to my wife!”

The horse skull did not respond. I ended up just spending the rest of the night in my car, with the horse skull curled up on my lap.

The fog dissipated a few hours later, and I took that as a cue that it was safe to go back home. It was not a pretty sight. A quick look in the barn made it seem as though all of the livestock had been turned inside out, and various equipment had been thrown about. There were no bloody footprints on the ground, and anyhow, it would have been nearly impossible to butcher and flay so many animals in only a few hours. The inside of the house looked as though a hurricane had hit it. I remember stepping over piles of broken glass and pottery in the kitchen. I went up to our bedroom, terrified, but Sharol’s corpse wasn’t there. Maybe she’d gotten away. I went to the garage to see, and... there it was. The mutilated corpse of a human, with a sledge hammer in her hands. Black goo covered one side of the sledge hammer like blood. She’d been trying to fight off whatever had been here.

The horse skull put its chin on my shoulder in a comforting gesture. I picked up the sledgehammer from her hands, shaking with the temptation to bash the creature’s skull in for not doing any of the things it could have done to save her. The damn skull could have told me what was coming. It could have given her a message. It could have given me a message that I could have shared with her without showing her Buttercup’s disembodied guts.

In my anger, I took a swing at her, and the skull fell to the ground, seemingly undamaged somehow. In an instant, I could see her entire spine- I guess because she was out cold and wasn’t able to hide it anymore. The spine went right out of the garage door, out the door to my house, and down the street for what seemed like half a mile. I saw a car drive over it, seemingly clipping through as though her spine didn’t even exist. Then, it started moving, picking up into the sky. And she left. Maybe she was mad at me for being ungrateful for her protection, or scared that I’d hurt her again, or she just had the understanding that her work here was done. But whatever her reasons, I never saw her again.

[sisterofiris]

Everyday life in the Hittite empire

Have you ever wondered what your life would have been like if you had been born in central Anatolia 3500 years ago? No? Now that I’ve brought it up, are you curious to find out?

Well you’re in luck, because that’s just what this post is about. So sit back, close your eyes, and imagine yourself in Anatolia - that is, modern Turkey. Are you ready? Can you see the mountains, the red river and the towering buildings of your capital, Ḫattuša? Can you hear the chariots driving up the road? Can you feel the electric brewing of a storm in the distance?

Then let’s go.

(With a brief disclaimer: while I study Hittitology, this is not intended as an academic-level post. It was written to give general, approachable insights into Hittite culture and can be used as writing inspiration or to titillate curious history nerds around you, but if you’re writing an academic paper on the subject, I would recommend you check out the bibliography instead.)

About you

First things first, are you older than five? If so, congratulations on being alive. Child mortality in this place and time is very high, so you’re one of the luckier ones among your siblings. You probably have at least a couple of those; you may even have as many as six or seven, especially if you come from a well-to-do family with access to good healthcare. When you were little, your parents might have told you the tale of Zalpa, in which the queen of Neša gives birth to thirty sons then thirty daughters who marry each other, but you know this only happens in the stories - not to normal people.

When you were born, your parents rejoiced regardless of your sex, as sons and daughters are equally valued in your society (albeit for different reasons). Your father took you on his knee and gave you a good Hittite name: maybe Armawiya, Ḫarapšili, Kilušḫepa or Šiwanaḫšušar for a girl, or Anuwanza, Kantuzili, Muwaziti or Tarḫuzalma for a boy. Gender-neutral names, such as Anna, Muwa and Šummiri, would also have been an option. Many people around you have Hurrian or Luwian names, even if they are not ethnically Hurrian or Luwian themselves. (This is comparable to the modern popularity of Hispanic names like Diego, or French names like Isabelle.)

It’s hard to say what you would have done during childhood. While your earliest years would have been spent playing and babbling in grammatically incorrect Hittite, by the age of six or seven you may well have already started training in the family profession. If a girl, you would have been taught to weave by your mother; if a boy, you might have helped your father out on the farm, tried your hand at making pottery, or spent long hours learning cuneiform. (There may have been careers requiring gender non-conformity, as there was in Mesopotamia, but as far as I am aware this has not been proven.) You know that even the noblest children are given responsibilities - king Ḫattušili himself was once a stable boy.

Now, as an adult, you are a working professional contributing directly to Hittite society. You look the very portrait of a Hittite: as a woman, you have long, dark hair that you probably keep veiled, and as a man, your hair is around shoulder-length and your face clean-shaven. Ethnically, though, you are likely a mixture of Hittite, Luwian, Hurrian, Hattian, and depending on when and where exactly you live, maybe Assyrian, Canaanite or even Greek. There’s a fair chance Hittite might not actually be your native language. Still, you consider yourself a Hittite, and a subject of the Hittite king.

Well, now you know who you are, let’s get along with your day!

Your home and environment

Your day begins the way most people’s days do: you wake up at home, in your bed. As an average Hittite, you probably sleep on the floor rather than on elevated furniture. Your floor is either paved or of beaten earth, and your house itself has stone foundations and mud brick walls, with a flat roof supported by timber beams. Windows are scarce and small, to keep the indoor temperature stable.

Outside, the rest of the settlement is waking up too. Statistically, you live in a village or small town, surrounded by forest and mountains. Summers here are hot and dry, and winters cold and snowy, with spring and autumn being marked by thunderstorms. Most inhabitants work as farmers, relying on the weather for their survival. Contagious illnesses are a constant threat - under king Muršili II, the land suffered a deadly plague for twenty years - as are enemy invasions. If you live within the bend of the red river, in the Hittite heartland, consider yourself lucky; if not, your settlement could well be shifting from one kingdom’s property to another and falling prey to both sides’ raids on a yearly basis.

Admitting no enemy forces are in the area today, you take your time to get up. You might tiredly stumble to the outhouse to go pee. Eventually, you’ll want to get dressed.

Clothing

As a man, your clothes comprise of a kilt or sleeved tunic, with a belt of cloth or leather. As a woman, you wear a long dress and, if you are married, a veil. All clothing is made from wool or linen, and a variety of dyes exist: red, yellow, blue, green, black and white are all colours mentioned in texts. If you are rich enough, you may be able to import purple-dyed fabric from Lazpa (Greek Lesbos) or the Levant. You will also want to flaunt your wealth with jewellery, regardless of gender.

Of course, your shoes have upturned ends in the Hittite style. Historians will tease you for this. Don’t listen to them. You look awesome.

Mealtime!

It’s now time for one of your two daily meals (the other will take place in the evening, after your work for the day is done). This will be prepared at the hearth, a vital element of every home, and which is likely connected to an oven. The staple of your diet is bread; in fact, it is so common that “bread”, in cuneiform texts, is used as a general term for food. It is usually made from wheat or barley, but can also be made from beans or lentils.

Worried you’ll get bored of it? You needn’t be: your society has enough types of bread that you could eat a different one each day for a whole season. Fig bread, sour bread, flat bread and honey bread are just some of your options, along with spear bread and moon bread... yes, in other words, baguettes and croissants. (Something tells me the Hittites and the French would have a lot to talk about.)

You also have various fruits and vegetables available: cucumber, leek, carrots, peas, chickpeas, lentils, beans, olives, figs, dates, grapes, pomegranates, onions, garlic, and more. Your diet is completed by animal products, including cheese, milk, butter, and meat, mainly from sheep and goats but also cows and wild game. Honey, too, is common.

These ingredients can be combined into all sorts of dishes. Porridge is popular, as are stews, both vegetarian and meat-based. Meat can also be broiled and quite possibly skewered onto kebabs. And of course, food would be boring without spices, so you have a variety of those to choose from too: coriander are cumin are just two of them.

As for drinks, you can have beer, wine, beer-wine (good luck figuring out what that is), milk or water. If you’re well-to-do enough, you may own a rhyton, a drinking vessel shaped like an animal such as a stag or bull. Don’t forget to libate to the Gods before drinking your share.

Daily work

The next thing on your plate, after food, is work. What you do depends on your social status and gender, and most likely, you do the same work as your parents did before you. You could be something well-known like a king, priest, scribe, merchant, farmer or slave, but don’t assume those are all the possibilities; you could also be, for example, a gardener, doctor, ritual practitioner, potter, weaver, tavern keeper, or perfume maker.

It’s impossible to go into detail on every career option you would have in Hittite society, so for the sake of brevity, let’s just discuss four - two male-dominated, and two female-specific.

Farmer

As a farmer, you are the backbone of your society. You and your peers are responsible for putting food on the plates of Hittites everywhere, thus ensuring the survival of the empire.

Like many farmers, you live on a small estate, most likely with both crops (or an orchard) and livestock to take care of. You may own cows, sheep, goats, pigs, horses, donkeys, and/or ducks. Your daily routine and tools aren’t that different from other pre-industrial cultures, though you have it a little rougher than most due to the Anatolian mountain terrain. If you have the means, you hire seasonal workers - both male and female - to help out as farmhands, and you may own a few slaves.

You get up early to milk the cows, and at the onset of summer, you or a hired herdsman may lead your livestock up to mountain pastures to graze. Depending on the season and the work that needs to be done, you may spend your day ploughing the fields, harvesting grain or fruit, tending livestock, shearing sheep, birthing a calf, repairing the barn, or various other tasks. Make sure to take proper care of everything: new animals are expensive, and losing one could get you into a precarious situation. In particular, you’ll want to keep an eye out for bears, wolves, foxes, and even lions and leopards.

Scribe

Few people are literate in Hittite society, and you are one of the lucky ones. You have been learning to read and write in three languages (Sumerian, Akkadian and Hittite) since childhood, and after long years of copying lexical lists and ancient myths, your education is now complete.

As a scribe, you are the dreaded bureaucrat. In a small town, you likely work alongside the town administrator, recording tax collections and enemy sightings as well as corresponding with other towns, and with the capital. You and your peers are the go-to people for officialising marriage agreements and divorces, drawing up work contracts, and creating sales receipts. If not in the town administration, you could also work in a temple, recording the results of oracles, cross-checking the correct procedures for a ritual, and making sure everything necessary for a festival is available. If you are particularly lucky, you may be employed by the nobility or even the palace, and be entrusted with such confidential tasks as writing the king’s annals or drafting an international treaty.

Regardless of where you are, two things are essential to your job: a stylus and a tablet. You may be a “scribe of the clay tablets”, in which case you will need to carry around a bit of clay wherever you go (and some water to moisten it). Otherwise, you are a “scribe of the wooden tablets”, in which case you use a wax tablet in a wooden frame, which requires less maintenance. It’s unclear whether these types of tablet are used for different purposes.

Fun fact: you likely have a few pen pals around the Hittite empire. After corresponding with other scribes for so long, you’ve started writing each other messages at the bottom of your tablets, asking each other how you’re doing and to say hi to each other’s families. Your employers needn’t know.

Weaver

Weaving, to a Hittite like you, is the quintessential female activity, along with textile-making in general. Like farming, this is a backbone of your society: without weaving, there would be no clothes, and without clothes, well, you can’t do much.

As a weaver, you produce textiles for your family and in many cases also for sale. You work in an atelier within your home, along with the other women of the household, keeping an eye on your smallest children as they play nearby. While your husband, brothers or sons may transport and sell your handiwork, you are the head of your own business.

You are skilled in multiple weaving techniques, and can do embroidery and sew fabric into various shapes (including sleeves - take that, Classical Greeks). You create clothing for all sorts of occasions, including rituals and festivals, outdoor work, and winter weather, and if you are lucky enough to be commissioned by the nobility, you put your best efforts into clothing that will show off their status. Don’t try to cheat anyone out of their money, though; prices are fixed by law.

Old Woman

Contrary to what you might expect, you don’t need to be old to be an Old Woman - this is a career just like any other, though it probably does require a certain amount of life experience and earned respect. As an Old Woman, you are a trained ritual practitioner and active in all sorts of cultic, divinatory and magical ceremonies.

Most commonly, you are hired for rituals protecting against or removing evil. Your services may solve domestic quarrels, cure a sick child, or shield someone from sorcery (a constant threat in your society). This is done through symbolic acts like cutting pieces of string, breaking objects, and sacrificing and burning animals, which are of course accompanied by incantations - sometimes in Hittite, sometimes in other languages, like Hurrian.

Far from a village witch, you are high-placed in Hittite society and trusted by the royal family itself. You have taken part in major rituals and festivals, including funerals, and you perform divinatory oracles too. This last responsibility gives you a large amount of influence over the king and queen; if you establish that something should be done, then it almost certainly will be. Use this power well... or not.

Your loved ones

After a long day ploughing fields, writing tablets, weaving clothes or reciting incantations, it’s finally time to reunite with your loved ones. For adults, these likely - but not necessarily! - include a spouse and children. You may just live with your nuclear family, but living with extended family is also common, and there may be as many as twenty people in your household. Siblings, aunts and uncles, parents, grandparents, children and babies all share the evening meal with you, and some nights, you might gather afterwards to sing and dance, tell stories, and play games.

You also have relationships outside of home. Friendship is valued by Hittite society, with close friends calling each other “brother” and sister”. You might meet up with them regularly at the local tavern for a beer and a bit of fun. Someone there might even catch your eye... Interestingly, there are no laws against that person being of the same gender as you. So, same or different gender, why not try your luck tonight?

Greater powers

It’s impossible to spend a day in the Hittite empire without encountering religion. The Land of a Thousand Gods is aptly named: Gods are in everything, from the sun to the mountains to the stream at the back of your house to fire to a chair. You should always be conscious of their power, and treat them with respect. Though there are few traces of it, you may have a household shrine where you make libations or offer a portion of your meal. Your Gods may be represented by anthropomorphic statues, by animals such as a bull, by symbols such as gold disks, or even by a stone. Either way, treat these objects well; the divine is literally present in them.

You should also be wary of sorcery. Never make clay figures of someone, or kill a snake while speaking someone’s name, or you will face the death penalty. Likewise, always dispose of impurities carefully, especially those left over from a purification ritual (such as mud, ashes, or body hair). Never toss them onto someone else’s property. Has misfortune suddenly struck your household? Is your family or livestock getting sick and dying? These are signs that someone has bewitched you.

Some days are more sacred than others. You participate in over a hundred festivals every year, some lasting less than a day, some lasting a month, some local, some celebrated by the entire Hittite empire. The most important of these are the crocus festival and the purulli festival in spring, the festival of haste in autumn, and the gate-house festival, possibly also in autumn. The statues of the Gods are brought out of the temples, great feasts are held, and entertainment is provided through music, dance and sports contests. Depending on how important your town is, the king, queen or a prince might even be in attendance. All this excitement is a nice break from your regular work!

Sleep and dreams

Phew, what a busy day it’s been. The sun, snared in the trees’ branches, has set on the Hittite land, and you are ready for bed. Time to wrap yourself snugly in blankets and go to sleep.

You may dream, in which case, try to remember as much as you can. Dreams can be a vehicle for omens. Maybe, if the Gods are kind, you might catch a glimpse of what the next days, months and years hold in store for you.

Good night!

Bibliography

Beckman, Gary, “Birth and Motherhood among the Hittites”, in Budin, Stephanie Lynn, Macintosh Turfa, Jean, Women in Antiquity: Real Women across the Ancient World, Abingdon 2016 (pp. 319-328).

Bryce, Trevor, Life and Society in the Hittite World, Oxford 2002.

Bryce, Trevor, “The Role and Status of Women in Hittite Society”, in Budin, Stephanie Lynn, Macintosh Turfa, Jean, Women in Antiquity: Real Women across the Ancient World, Abingdon 2016 (pp. 303-318).

Golec-Islam, Joanna, The Food of Gods and Humans in the Hittite World, BA thesis, Warszawa 2016.

Hoffner, Harry A., “Birth and name-giving in Hittite texts”, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 27/3 (1968), pp. 198-203.

Hoffner, Harry A., “Daily life among the Hittites”, in Averbeck, Richard E., Chavalas, Marc W., Weisberg, David B., Life and Culture in the Ancient Near East, Bethesda 2003 (pp. 95-118).

Marcuson, Hannah, “Word of the Old Woman”: Studies in Female Ritual Practice in Hittite Anatolia, PhD thesis, Chicago 2016.

Wilhelm, Gernot, “Demographic Data from Hittite Land Donation Tablets”, in Pecchioli Daddi, Franca, Torri, Giulia, Corti, Carlo, Central-North Anatolia in the Hittite Period: New Perspectives in Light of Recent Research, Roma 2009 (pp. 223-233).