#no but dear thyme | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

petermorwood · 9 months ago

Text

Food on St Patrick's Day (in the USA)...

...is usually Corned Beef & Cabbage, which is the Irish-American version of the original Irish boiled bacon & cabbage, but while the celebratory Irishness is still going strong, try something a bit more authentic.

A nice warm coddle. Not cuddle, coddle, though just as comforting in its own way. (Some sources suggest it's a hangover cure, not that such a thing would ever be necessary at this time of year, oh dear me no.)

Coddle is a stew using potatoes, onions, bacon, sausages, stout-if-desired / stock-if-not, pepper, sage, thyme and Time.

You'll often see it called "Dublin Coddle", but my Mum made Lisburn Coddle lots of times, I've made West Wicklow Coddle more than once, and on one occasion in a Belgian holiday apartment I made Brugsekoddel, which is an OK spelling for something that doesn't exist in any cookbook.

*****

I do remember one amendment I made to Mum's recipe, which met with slight resistance at the time and great appreciation thereafter.

Her coddle was originally cooked on the stove-top, not in the oven, and nothing was pre-cooked. Potatoes were quartered, onions were sliced, bacon was cut into chunks and then everything went into the big iron casserole, then onto the slow back ring, and there it simmered Until Done.

However, the bacon was thick-cut back rashers, and the sausages were pork chipolatas.

Raw, they looked like this:

...and the bacon looked like this:

Cooked in the way Mum initially did, they looked pretty much the same afterwards. The sausages didn't change colour. Nor did the bacon.

While everything tasted fine, the meat parts always looked - to me, anyway - somewhat ... less than appealing. "Surgical appliance pink" is the kindest way to put it, and that's all I'm saying. This is apparently "white coddle" and Dubs can get quite defensive about This Is The Way It SHOULD Look.

I'm not a Dub, so I persuaded Mum to fry both the bacon and sausages first, just enough to get a bit of brown on, and wow! Improvement! I remember my Dad nodding in approval but - because he was Wise - not saying anything aloud until Mum gave it the green light as well.

Doing the coddle in the oven, first with lid on then with lid off, came later and met with equal approval. So did using only half of the onion raw and frying the other half lightly golden in the bacon fat.

Nobody quoted from a movie that wouldn't be made for another decade, but there was a definite feeling of...

*****

There are coddle recipes all over the Net: I've made sure that these are from Ireland to avoid the corned-beef-not-boiled-bacon "adjustment" versions which are definitely out there. I've already seen one with Bratwurst. Just wait, it'll be chorizo next.

Oh, hell's teeth, I was right. And from RTE...

Returning to relative normality, here's Donal Skehan's white coddle and his browned coddle with barley (I'm going to try that one).

Here's Dairina Allen's Frenchified with US measurements version. (I feel considerably less heretical now.)

And finally (OK, not Irish, but it references a couple of the previous ones and is a VERY comprehensive write-up, so gets a pass) Felicity Cloake's Perfect Dublin Coddle (perfect according to who, exactly...?) in The Guardian.

*****

Returning to the beginning, and how boiled bacon became corned beef (a question which prompted @dduane to start an entire website...!)

The traditional Irish meat animal for those who could afford it was the pig, but when Irish immigrants (even before the Great Famine) arrived in the USA, they often lived in the same urban districts as Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe.

For fairly obvious reasons pork, bacon and other piggy products were unavailable in those districts, but salt beef was right there and far cheaper than any meat Irish immigrants had ever seen before.

Insist on tradition or eat what was easy to find? There'd have been contest - and do I sometimes wonder a bit if sauerkraut ever came close to replacing cabbage for the same reason.

The pre-Famine Irish palate liked sour tastes: a German (?) visitor to Ireland in the mid-1600s wrote about about what were called "the best-favoured peasantry in Europe", and mentioned that they had "seventy-several sour milks and creams*, and the sourer they be, the better they like them."

* Yogurt? Kefir? Skyr? Gosh...

Corned beef and Kraut as the immigrants' celebratory "Irish" meal for St Patrick's Day? Maybe, maybe not.

Time for "Immigrant Song" (with kittens).

youtube

*****

Corned beef got its name from the size of the salt grains with which the beef was prepared. They were usually bigger than kosher salt, like pinhead oats or even as large as grains of wheat, and their name derived originally from "corned (gun)powder", the large coarse grains used in cannon.

BTW, "corn" has been a generic English term for "grain" for centuries, and "but Europe didn't have corn" is an American mistake assuming the word refers to sweetcorn / maize, which it doesn't.

Lindsey Davis, author of the "Falco" series, had a couple of rants about it and other US-requested "corrections". As she points out, mistakes need corrected but "corn" is not a mistake, just a difference in vocabulary.

*****

In Ancient and Medieval Ireland pig would have included wild boar, the hunting of which was a suitable pastime for warriors and heroes, because Mr Boar took a very dim view of the whole proceeding and wasn't shy about showing it (see "wild boar" in my tags and learn more).

Cattle were for milk, butter, cream and little cattle; also wealth, status, and heroic displays in their theft, defence or recovery. It's no accident that THE great Irish epic is "The Cattle-Raid of Cooley" / Táin Bó Cúailnge (tawn / toyn boh cool-nyah).

Killing a cow for meat was ostentation on a level of lighting cigars with 100-, or even 500-, currency-unit notes. Once it had been cooked and eaten there'd be no more milk, butter, cream or little cattle from that source, so eating beef was showing off And Then Some.

Also, loaning a prize bull to run with someone else's heifers was a sign of great friendship or alliance, while refusing it might be an excuse for enmity or even war. IMO that's what Maeve of Connaught intended all along, picking undiplomatic envoys who would get drunk and shoot their mouths off so the loan was refused and she, insulted, would have an excuse to...

But I digress, as usual. Or again. Or still... :->

*****

For the most part, "pig" mean "domestic porker", and in later periods right up to the Famine, these animals were seldom eaten.

Instead, known as "the gentleman who pays the rent", the family pig ate kitchen scraps and rooted about for other foods, none of which the tenant had to grow or buy for them. These fattened pigs would go to market twice a year, and the money from their sale would literally pay that half-year's rent.

For wealthier (less poor?) farmers, pigs had another advantage. Calves arrived singly, lambs might be a pair, but piglets popped out by the dozen. A sow with (some of) her farrow was even commemorated on the old ha'penny coin...

What with bulls, chickens, hares, horses, hounds, pigs, salmon and stags, the pre-decimal Irish coinage is a good inspiration for some sort of fantasy currency.

But that's another post, for another day.

#food and drink #St Patrick's Day #Irish cuisine #Dublin coddle #corned beef or boiled bacon #pigs and cattle in Ireland #The Cattle Raid of Cooley #Youtube

561 notes · View notes

adhdduckie · 9 months ago

Text

felix felices, or liquid luck f.w. x fem! reader.

my masterlist

irl mutuals dni (你没有看到我）

music choice; yo bro wtf

t.w.: swearing. (sorry i couldnt help myself)

word count: 3.5k

synopsis; strangers (hallway crushes) to lovers, with the help of felix felicis potion, or the liquid luck potion!!

here you go anon! hope you enjoy <3 sorry i took so long.

im so sunburnt help

(slightly inspired from my own events but let me tell you i died inside. i hate chemistry oh my lord, potions reminds me too much of it lol)

warnings; not proof read. 3 (?) mentions of y/n, a really stupid misunderstanding. reader is described with hair that can get blown into their face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

everybody knew fred weasley. it was impossible not to, as they were hogwart's most well known pranksters since the era of the marauders.

of course, you did not happen to know him well enough yourself. you had a couple of lessons with him, such as; potions, herbology, and arithmetics.

His brother and he never really contributed anything to class discussion, only ever helpfully supplying mischief and jokes, and whatever they deemed interesting to themselves.

however, you noticed him wherever you went. It seemed as if it was almost impossible not to, he just happened to pop up randomly everywhere. In hogsmeade, in the hallways between classes, and in your dreams. (not in a weird way you weirdos).

Maybe the first time you ever really started thinking about him was when he appeared in your dream��you weren't too sure. But soon enough, you began thinking about him way too much, counting down the lessons till you could see him again in a next lesson.

you began searching for him in the hallways, the common room, the dining hall. even in places you know he would never be, but it just seems like you were always looking for him.

in lessons, everything he did, you were drawn to. you knew what he had, knew what he liked, and you spoke to him only every once in a while.

'this sucks.' you'd tell your friends. they'd laugh, telling you you should just talk to him more.

which isn't really helpful. you would think.

through some miracle ( or horror, you really couldn't decide.) you ended up sitting with fred in potions. Technically it wasn't a miracle, you had just been goofing off with your friends, being too loud for dear old snapey, you'd been moved next to him.

'oh god oh god oh god oh god' was the only thing going through your head as you packed up your desk to move next to him. your friend could barely hold in her laughter, having to slap her own hand over her mouth to muffle it.

'oh shit oh shit oh shit what have i done to deserve this oh my god' is what you were thinking as you walked towards the back, brushing past george as you walked towards fred.

You sat down at his desk, and he turned his face to you, giving you a soft smile. you pray internally that your face does not erupt into flames.

professor snape, once satisfied that you are suffering, turns back to the board, tapping his wand impatiently on the board.

"today," he drawls, "we will be attempting the felix felicis potion. failure to produce a functioning potion will result in a fourteen inch parchment describing every step you made and what you did wrong." he finishes, piercing his gaze into every one of his students.

you wince. fourteen inches for a mistake? seems costly. Potions has never been your strong point. (for the purpose of this, we're gonna pretend fred is excellent at potions.) You pray to the gods above that you don't mess this up for fred.

as snape sits down on his desk, working through marking some paper. as you get up to go get the ingredients as fred sets up the cauldron. you come back, setting down the ashwinder egg, squid bulb, murtlap growth, thyme occamy eggshell, and powdered common rue on the desk.

fred smiles again, thanking you for your help.

"so we have to set in the ashwinder egg first. you wanna do it?" fred asks, as you tie up your hair. he watches as you do so, and you nod, trying to fight off any embarrassment.

he steps back from the cauldron, letting you do so. your hands are shaking and you are doing everything in your power to stop it. in your haste, you knock over the murtlap growth, but before it falls, fred's hand flashes out, catching it in his hand.

"sorry!" you apologise frantically, and he laughs. It's the nicest laugh you've ever heard, deep and infectious, a laugh you'd be able to hear across the room and still recall years later.

"don't worry. i caught it." he says, setting it back on the table.

you smile, avoiding eye contact. you manage to finish the task, and with his help with mixing, the felix felicis is done. while he was mixing, you tried to pretend not to notice his hands. they're nice, to say the least. his hands are rough and calloused from years of being on the quidditch team, as a beater. he's got small white scars littered across his hands from years of experimenting with george over their joke shop products. you have to drag your eyes away.

The felix felicis potion is finished, and it's the most beautiful shade of gold you've ever seen. You would describe it akin to what you would imagine liquid gold to be, and it fits perfectly into a little vial the size of your middle finger. all that work for a little vial no bigger than your middle finger.

it's still the most valuable potion in the world, though.

the potion has large drops of gold leaping across the surface like goldfish, but it never seems to spill out of the vial. you put the stopper over it, and you hand it to fred, your fingers brushing against his warm ones in the process.

"thanks." he seems to whisper, even though he speaks at normal volume.

"we work well together, i think. usually i can't even get a basic potion done." you tell him, laughing a little.

"i bet that's not true." he responds, the corner of his lips upturned.

"it is." you laugh.

you both return to your seats after setting all the equipment away, and as the first group finished, it means you get to present it first.

snape looks at it approvingly, the first time he's ever regarded something you've done, as done well. you can't help but smile, and snape speaks. "i'm glad that you were able to work well once i removed you from your friends. mr. weasley will now be your partner."

you stare at him in slight disbelief, before shrugging and saying, "yes professor snape."

"as the first students done, and the best potion made, you may keep it. decide amongst yourselves which of you gets it." snape finishes, before shooing you away from his desk.

you both stare at each other, your eyes meeting his hazel brown ones. "you have it-" "i don't want-" you both say, before he tries to hand it to you.

you push his hand away, shaking your head, "it's alright, you can keep it."

"no, i think you should keep it. after all, you need it for potions, right?" he jokes, pushing it into your hands.

you gape at him in mock shock. "how could you say that! We only did so well because of me!" you respond, in mock indignation.

he laughs, as he closes your palm over the small vial, and you realise you've lost. however, you decide, you will sneak it into his bag when he's not paying attention.

the end of the lesson has never come so fast. And for the first time in your life, you're slightly disappointed to leave potions. before leaving you levitate the felix felicis potion into his bag with your wand, and you grin wickedly. you'll just have to see him in your other classes later.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fred Weasley thinks he is absolutely screwed. After a year of having a crush on a girl who he does not talk to often, despite sharing three lessons with her, he is now partners in potions with her for an indefinite period of time.

He doesn't know when he first noticed you, but god, is he glad he did. he thinks you may be the prettiest girl he's ever seen, with the brightest smile, and the sweetest personality.

so imagine his surprise, that this sweet girl, has gotten in trouble for talking so much (he doesn't care, he liked listening to your voice)

while you were freaking out and chanting 'oh shit' in your head, something similar was going through fred's. george coughs, unsuccessfully hiding his laugh behind it. fred elbows george to get him to shut up as you approach the table, and george gathers his things, to leave. he winks at fred, before walking to your previous seat next to your friend, flashing a quick and easy smile.

fred wishes he could talk to you so easily, and he tries his best not to show his nervousness, flashing you what he thinks is an awkward smile. (it isnt, it looks natural as hell, not to mention hot as hell)

while you make the potion, he watches you with fervour, as if he's scared he'll miss a single movement you'll make, hungrily soaking up your smiles like a man starved.

every touch feels like something he's been missing, like a hot cup of chocolate after a walk in winter, and he's scared he's going to get addicted.

he wants to give you the felix felicis, and is happy when you finally give up. after potions, in herbology, he reaches into his bag, to find the felix felicis. he laughs, before searching across the classroom for you.

when he makes eye contact, he raises an eyebrow, holding it in his palm to show you, his heart fluttering in his chest. he looks as composed and calm as ever to you, but he knows differently.

it becomes a game, the felix felicis. it takes over several months, and you start to get creative with it, hiding it in his mail, he hid it in your textbooks somehow, you hid it in his hair, etc etc.

it became a competition, who could come up with the craziest spots. after you hid it a couple months later in what you hope was his jacket pocket.

it's been awhile since you had first sat with fred in potions because of professor snape, and you're so happy to say that you've grown closer over the months, even spending time together out of lessons at cafes to study, or in the library together.

after hiding the felix felicis in his jacket pocket while on a walk with him in the winter months, you wait for his turn.

one day passes. nothing happens. another day, and another. four days later, and it still hasn't turned up yet. where is it? you wonder. you check for it everywhere you go, turning your entire dorm upside down searching for it.

he couldn't have lost it, right? it was in his jacket pocket. could it be that he's bored of this game, and he just decided to keep it? must be.

you're disappointed, of course, it was very enjoyable. but there's nothing you can really do.

imagine your surprise, when you walk into the dining hall, to see fred standing with his brother, and what- what's that in his hand? none other than the felix felicis.

you watch as he takes a swig of it, setting the rest of the vial in his pocket. his brother pats him on the back in what seems to be encouragement, and he walks over to your friend.

he smiles at her, and she smiles back. they talk and for some reason your heart starts to get a bit heavy.

'did he just drink the felix felicis just to talk to her?' you ask yourself. unable to stand there and watch, you turn around and walk out of the dining hall, threading your fingers through your hair, brushing it away from your face.

something dark, sick and familiar is brewing in the pit of your stomach, it's pulling, pushing your heart strings.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

fred weasley is going to ask you out. he toys with the felix felicis vial in his pocket as he waits for you to enter the dining hall, turning it over and over again in his pocket as he leans against one of the columns with george.

you don't show up for awhile, and fred's wondering where you are.

"go ask her friend." george states, pushing him forward, giving him a reassuring pat on the back.

fred hypes himself up, and he takes the vial out of his pocket, swigging a sip as he stalks towards your friend. the liquid is thick but light in his mouth, tasting of golden hawthorn berries and honey.

he taps her on the shoulder and smiles at her nervously.

"hey. where's y/n?" he asks your friend

"she's still upstairs i believe." she responds with a smile.

she turns around to see you walking out of the hall, and her smile drops.

"oh."

"what?" fred asks.

"i think she may have misunderstood what's going on." she sighs, and gives fred a slightly strained smile. "you couldn't have waited till after you spoke to me to drink it, could you?"

fred flashes a confused look. "whatever do you mean?"

"hasn't the entire potion been a game? who could hide it the best?" your friend asks him.

"i mean, yeah, it has. but i don't see the problem…?" he scratches the back of his neck.

she rolls her eyes, muttering something about 'boys…' freds eyes narrow, and she lets out a soft laugh.

"right. think of it this way. imagine you've had a crush on this guy for ages. you're not exactly close, but you talk. you have one 'special' thing you do together. for example, hiding the potion….and then you see them keeping it for themselves….you got me?" Your friend finishes, raising her eyebrows at him.

he stares, before realisation finally dawns on him.

"oh shit." he mutters, hand threading through his ginger locks.

"well?" your friend asks, somewhat impatient. "go after her."

fred nods, sprinting across the dining hall, after you. praying to himself that he can fix this, and george throws him a thumbs up as he sprints past.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'fuck.' you think as you sit down on the edge of the astronomy tower. you can't help but replay the moment of fred drinking the felix felicis before he speaks to your friend. he looked so nervous but so hyped.

you're not about to jump off the astronomy tower, but it's a nice place to be where you need some time alone, to think. you need that now.

that sick, familiar and painful thing pulling at your gut earlier, its back. theres nothing you can do now, but just sit back and let it happen, you suppose.

She's your friend, and so is fred. you have to be okay with it. it's not worth losing friends over.

the wind picks up, ruffling your hair into your face, tangling it into knots. the rain starts pouring down, dropleta cascading down your face.

turning your face up to the sky, you let out a deep sigh, feeling tears prickling at your waterline, fighting the tears back. 'no. you don't have a right to be upset.' you chatise.

'he's not yours. he never was.' you need to remind yourself. this isn't fair to either of them, they had no control over their feelings.

despite that, the tears continue to fall. you can't compete, this isn't fair. she knew you liked him. she knew how you felt. you literally spoke to her about it.

There is nothing. nothing you can do about this. you are just going to have to wait for the feelings to go away. it wouldn't be fair to like your best friend's boyfriend. (getting ahead of yourself, aren't we?)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

fred weasley is freaking out. he can't find you. you're not in the common room, in any of your lessons for the day (yes, he knows your schedule), you're not in any of the bathrooms (he didn't go in, he just asked the girls who came out of the bathrooms), and you're not near the black lake.

in his haste, he almost runs in to someone. "shit." he grunts

"watch where you're going!" someone says. he looks up and realises it's harry.

"oh it's you. you alright there, fred?" harry says, pulling fred up to his feet.

"harry!" fred basically shouts. "where's the marauders map?" he practically begs, and harry raises a brow in response.

"not the time. i need it." harry nods, pulling it out of his pocket, before handing it over to fred.

"oh shit." fred whispers, seeing your name pop up at the astronomy tower. how could he forget it? you told him weeks ago that it was your favourite place in the school.

shoving the marauders map back into harry's arms, fred yells his thanks to harry as he speeds through the hall, skipping steps three at a time to get to you, he stumbles a couple of times, not hitting the floor, but catching himself just in time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

your back is to the door, and the combination of the rain and the wind prevents you from hearing it open.

"y/n? are you alright?" fred asks quietly, taking a deep breath and sitting besides you.

you turn your face away, wiping away the marks of tears before turning back to him.

"yeah. just enjoying the rain. it's nice, isn't it?" you tell him, trying to change the topic, giving him a soft smile.

you both stare off into the distance, slowly watching all the dark rain clouds move away from the astronomy tower.

he notices that you're drenched, and he sighs. he pulls his jumper over his head, pulling his wand out from his pocket as he does so. "exaresco" he whispers as you dry off.

he passes you his jacket, which you accept without a word. it's still warm with his body heat, and smells faintly of the quidditch pitch and cinnamon, tinged with a scent of something burnt.

"so. you and (friend's name), huh?" you say to attempt to lighten the mood. turning your face to him, you send him a (fake) sly smile, nudging him in the arm.

he stares at you, furrowing his eyebrows. since he finally knows how you feel about him, why are you acting like this?

"no." his reply is short, straight to the point.

you gape at him, mouth falling open and he lets out a deep chuckle, his index finger reaching out and pushing your jaw back up.

"what do you mean no?? I saw you going up to her, drinking the felix felicis." you say, pushing his hand away from your face with a confused frown.

"it wasn't for her." He states simply, hoping his answer is enough for you to finally understand his feelings.

you stare blankly at him.

"you're one of the smartest people i know, but you're so oblivious." he states, sighing playfully.

"then who's the lucky girl?" you ask him, not really wanting to hear the answer anyway. your stomach's already feeling heavy, and he's not even said anything yet. is it katie bell? angelina johnson? who else has he spoken to that he might like?

fred lets out a groan. how can you be so oblivious.

"what?" You laugh, nudging him and trying to get out an answer from him. your hands are getting cold, so you put them in your (fred's) jacket pockets. there's something cold inside, and you pull out a familiar vial.

"why would you think there's anyone else?" fred asks, eyes trained on you as you turn the vial over and over again in your hands.

that catches your attention and your eyes turn to him. "what do you mean?"

fred laughs, his hand combs through his ginger locks as he pushes them back nervously.

"I'm trying, and failing apparently, to tell you i like you." he finally says, laughing nervously again, avoiding eye contact with you.

you gape, for the umpteenth time tonight, before realising he must be joking. you force out a laugh, slightly (super) disappointed. "you're so funny." you deadpan.

"i'm not joking."

"you must be." You respond, slightly hurt that he finds something like this funny. you're facing away again, so you don't notice him look at you. something steels inside of him, and he's confident this will end in his favour.

he reaches up, his hand finding your jaw, and he pulls your face back to him.

something in his eyes is dark, and you realise for the first time, that he's not joking. there's something similar to adoration in his eyes, and it's everything you do in your power to stop from gasping.

"i'm not joking." he repeats.

you can feel his breath on you, fanning across your skin like a warm embrace.

"are you sure?" you whisper, trying to contain the butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

"yes." his response is short, sure and straight to the point. "i am"

the next thing you know, his lips are on yours, breaths mingling together. he pulls you closer, and you feel yourself melt into his embrace.

you pull back from the kiss, and he lets out a unhappy groan.

"does this mean…you like me?" you ask him.

he glares at you, and you laugh. "i'm only joking." is your response. he grins, his forehead resting against yours.

you lie your head on his shoulder, and the both of you enjoy each other's company. this all happened because of felix felics. you can't help but feel so grateful. maybe you should stop hating potions now.

#fred weasley #x reader #duckiewrites #fred weasley x reader #duckie's inbox #wizarding world #hp fandom #harry potter #george weasley #fred x reader #gryffindor reader #gryffindor #the weasleys #weasley family #asks #sorry anon it took so long #fred

314 notes · View notes

sunny374940 · 9 days ago

Text

Don't do that again

And I'm back at it with those two. Emmrich gets sick and won't admit he needs help. Free continuation of my story Adventures in baking, which is here https://www.tumblr.com/sunny374940/769611729043931136/adventures-in-baking?source=share

.................

Rook was bored. There were no outings planned for the day, he wasn't on cooking or laundry duty and he had been poking around the Lighthouse for a better part of the morning. The others were all engaged in some of their own projects and he didn't want to intrude.

He was moping outside on the stairway, worrying about the battles they were yet to face, when he decided to see what Emmrich was doing. Maybe he could convince him to take a break and spend some time with him. Yeah, that would cheer him up. And surely Emmrich would be happy to see his partner? lover? something? They haven't really given a name yet to whatever it was between them and it was driving Rook mad. But right now he wanted company, not to solve the mystery of their relationship, so he got up and went to Emmrich's room.

Rook knocked on the door and waited for Emmrich to answer. But there was no sound coming through the door, so Rook opened it carefully and entered the room. Emmrich was sitting at his desk, slumped over a thick tome. He didn't seem to have heard Rook’s knocking and startled when he saw him approach. The abrupt shake of his body sent him into a coughing fit. Rook eyed him suspiciously.

“Emmrich, are you alright?”

“Yes dear, right as rain,” Emmrich said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and appeared to reconsider his answer. “Perhaps a spot of cold, nothing to worry about, I assure you.” He tried for an encouraging smile, but its effect was quite diminished by his red cheeks and glassy eyes.

“You have a fever,” Rook accused him with narrowed eyes. “You should rest. You’re always badgering us to take a break and now you won’t take your own advice.” There was a tinge of worry in Rook’s voice.

“Nonsense,” said Emmrich. “I am perfectly capable of judging my needs and right now I need to work. Was there something you wanted? Or have you only come to pester me about my supposedly failing health?” He said tersely. There were dark circles around his eyes and his hands seemed to be trembling where they were resting on the desk.

Rook’s eyes widened at Emmrich's words. "I see you are busy,” he said, feeling more than a little hurt. “I’ll leave you to your work, see you around, Emmrich.” He turned, not meeting Emmrich's eyes, and left the room. He didn't hear the quiet “Rook, wait”, as he was closing the door. He ran straight to Harding, to enlist her help.

“Hi Rook, whatcha doing?” she asked, looking up from her gardening with an easy smile.

“Emmrich'ssickIneedyourhelpplease,” he spilled in a single breath.

“Woah, slow down, I didn't catch all of that,” she laughed, but her merriment was quickly exchanged for concern, when she saw the worry on his face.

He took a deep breath, wiping a hand across his face, and tried again. “I went to see Emmrich and he seems to have a fever and he's coughing horribly. And he's being stubborn and insisting that he's fine,” Rook sighed. “I don't know anything about medicine, but you understand herbs, right? Do you have anything that could help him?” he asked hopefully.

“Hmm,” she hummed, thinking for a moment. “I've managed to grow thyme and peppermint here, those could work. Let's gather some and we'll go make him tea. Oh, and my Ma swears by chicken soup, she would make me some every time I was sick as a kid. Aw, but he doesn't eat meat, so that's out the window. We could maybe ask Lucanis for help figuring something out?”

“You’re the best,” Rook smiled brightly. “Let’s get to it.” They picked some of the herbs and walked together to the kitchen. Lucanis was standing at the counter, cutting up vegetables for lunch.

"Hello, Rook. Have you come to make a mess of the kitchen again?” he teased.

Rook opened his mouth to defend himself, but Harding spoke up first. “Actually, we need your help, Emmrich is sick and we thought some soup might make him feel better. And herbal tea, but I can make that.”

“Mierda, I told him that all that trudging in the nasty water in the Wetlands was bad for him,” Lucanis sighed. “He was shivering a lot the last time you came back.”

Rook cursed himself internally. Emmrich asked to be included in their expeditions to Hossberg, saying something about putting the spirits of the dead there to rest and Rook didn't even notice that he was suffering the whole time.

Harding placed a hand on his arm. “Hey, he's gonna be fine,” she said. “I can see you beating yourself up, but it's not your fault. He can make his own choices.” She gave him a small smile. “Let's get to work, so you can go back to him, alright?”

“Alright,” he said gratefully and went to fetch water. As they were brewing the tea and making a start on the soup, the kitchen door opened and Emmrich staggered inside, leaning on a walking stick with white knuckled hands.

"Rook, you’re here,” he rasped, chest heaving with the effort of staying upright. “I meant to apo-” He got no further than that and fell down on the floor unconscious. They rushed forward to help him.

“Is. He. Dead?”

“Spite, for fuck’s sake,” Lucanis mumbled wearily. Though Emmrich wasn't looking very much alive from Rook's viewpoint. The redness of his cheeks from earlier that morning had been exchanged for a sickly pallor, the circles around his eyes were even more pronounced and his breath was coming quick and shallow. Rook stood frozen to the spot, unable to act in the face of Emmrich's collapse.

It was his fault, again and again. Why did he have to drag Emmrich everywhere? And why didn't he notice sooner that something was wrong? He couldn't bear to lose him- But Harding's words cut through his self-pity.

"Rook, come on, help us get him to bed, he's burning up!”

“Shit, yeah, sorry,” Rook stammered and rushed to assist them. Together they managed to move Emmrich into his bed and Rook was left in charge of the patient, while Harding and Lucanis brought in the tea and soup. He got the fire going and dragged a chair over to Emmrich's bedside.

“Right as rain, my ass,” Rook grumbled as he was mopping Emmrich's brow with a damp cloth, trying to bring down the fever that was ravaging his body.

At last Emmrich's eyes opened. He looked around blearily, until his eyes alighted on Rook's face.

“Hello there,” he said, his voice so weak it made Rook wince.

“Hi. Are you still going to insist that you're fine?” Rook asked, his annoyance at Emmrich not caring for himself coming back again now that he didn't have to worry whether he would wake up. Whether he would make it…

Emmrich glanced aside, looking embarrassed. “I… am sorry about earlier. I truly didn't want you to worry about me. You have so much on your plate without me adding to it.”

Rook chuckled mirthlessly. He was wringing out the cloth into a bowl on the nightstand without looking at Emmrich and said: “Yeah, well, I think I ended up worrying a lot more, so that didn't work out much.”

He turned back to him and immediately regretted his words at the look of profound sadness on Emmrich's face. He found his hand where it was lying on the bedcovers and gave it a small squeeze.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I'm not angry, you just scared me. I was worried I'd lose you. Just… don't do that again, alright?”

Emmrich simply nodded, the small movement drawing another coughing fit out of him. Rook helped him sit up and pressed the tea into his hands. Emmrich drank gratefully, a little color returning to his cheeks. He leaned back against the headrest and looked at Rook with a shy smile.

“Would you care to keep me company a while longer? I hear bedrest is an awfully dull endeavor without the right companion.”

Emmrich patted the space in bed next to him, inviting Rook to join him there. Rook wasted no time getting on the bed, settling close to Emmrich, shoulders touching. They sat there, Rook doing most of the talking, until he noticed that Emmrich had fallen asleep, head leaning against Rook's shoulder, his breath coming deeper, calmer. Rook smiled to himself and closed his eyes as well, enjoying his partner's presence.

#dragon age emmrich #dragon age veilguard #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #emmrook #dragon age the veilguard #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age harding #lace harding #Veilguard

49 notes · View notes

yeoja-dream · 11 months ago

Text

Intertwined

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: BTS OT7 X Reader

Genre: Fantasy, Magic, Eventual Smut, Plot, slight slow burn

Characters: Vampire!BTS, Elf!Reader

Content Warning: none

Word Count: 4.3k

You finally wake when the rays of the late morning sun warm your face and hurt your eyes. You sat up groggily, rubbing the sleep from them with balled fists. Unwillingly, the events of last night flood your barely continuous mind. The memories have you kicking at your sheets with frustration.

“What was his issue anyway?” You complained out loud. Maybe you’d never get to know. At least I get to say I’ve both instructed and kissed a member of BTS, you attempted to reason. The thought brings you little comfort.

While you set something fragrant to boil on the stove, you checked your phone, finally, scrolling through dozens of missed notifications due to your late slumber. Habitually, you checked for new work emails, the top of which gave you immediate pause. “SUBJECT: I’m sorry. SENDER: KIM SEOKJIN. You’ve got to be kidding me.” You laughed incredulously.

Dear Y/N,

Firstly, I would like to apologize for contacting you via your work email. In my rush to leave last night, I forgot to exchange more proper means of contact. I would also like to apologize for my behavior. I understand that it must have been, in a word, confusing. If you would be kind enough, I would greatly appreciate the chance to explain myself properly in person. The issue is more complicated than I have a great understanding of, so I would also like to bring Namjoon who has a better understanding of the circumstances. However, I wouldn’t want to impose or make you feel like you were being ganged up on.

Please understand we will take no further action with you, and should to ignore this correspondence we will take it as your disinterest in the subject matter and we will leave you alone.

Best,

Kim Seokjin

“Jeez, this guy is uptight.” You mumbled, reading the message in totality. You sighed, sitting back in your rickety kitchen chair. Confusing is an understatement. You thought to yourself. But you also couldn’t deny that curiosity clawed at your insides. You sipped your hot, spiced cider, the taste giving you comfort and confidence. Something is telling me to hear them out, Dad. You thought to yourself. I just hope the cinnamon is enough.

Dear Kim Seokjin,

Sending emails is cumbersome, so here is my cellphone number. Text me whenever you’d like.

Thank you for apologizing. I will decide whether or not I accept it after our meeting. It may be sudden, but I took the day off of work today. If today does not work, you can make arrangements with me after the studio closes every day at 10 pm.

Best,

Y/N

You type the email and hit send before you can overthink it too much. What makes a man go from ready to take you on the floor to running out the door you couldn’t fathom, but you certainly looked forward to finding out.

It was about 2 hours later your phone buzzed with a notification, a text this time.

Hello, this is Jin. We all have schedules this morning, but Namjoon and I will be finished around 5 pm. Is it alright if I go ahead and make dinner reservations? Is there any place you like in particular?

Dinner reservations? You mused to yourself. That sounded formal, more formal than you were comfortable with. Dinner reservations were for dates, of which this meeting was certainly not.

Dinner is fine, but there is no need for reservations. I’m in the mood for Mediterranean tonight, so you can meet me at Olive and Thyme at 7. You replied.

Your phone buzzed again soon after sending.

Olive and Thyme at 7. We will be there. Thank you.

At that you tossed your phone to the other side of the couch, settling back into the cushions, zoning out to whatever insane dating reality TV show was on. Speculation is going to get me nowhere. You reminded yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a while since you had a reason to get dressed up, you realized as you curled your freshly washed and dried hair. Except the concert you had attended just 2 days prior, you could list the occasions you had to dress up for in the last 20 years on one hand. The thought makes you sad.

Your theme is cute but casual, you reminded yourself as you selected your pair of favorite high-waisted jeans, a plain crop top to match, and a light jacket to go over. There was also no need to go overboard with makeup, a little bit of skin tone-flattering eyeshadow, mascara, and a pink lipgloss would be plenty.

Of course, you didn’t forget about your ears. You’d had the pointy pains in the ass your whole life, and as such, you had discovered dozens of ways to hide them away. Your hair was down today, so pinning them back with a dab of spirit gum on the back side of each was more than enough coverage.

You stood back, admiring your handiwork in a standing mirror in your bedroom. Cute and casual, you decided. It was while looking at your reflection, that you also realized how remarkably well you had been taking things. Just two days ago, you were a faceless fan in a sea of other fans. You were meant to enjoy a fun performance and return to your daily life, and yet impossibly, not but 24 hours later, the oldest of BTS was running out of your dance studio after a steamy make-out session, and now supposedly wanted to meet up to discuss something cryptic. It was absurd, anyone would agree. Even in your most delusional of fantasies you couldn’t have dreamed up something more ridiculous. Maybe that was what was keeping you calm, sane. Maybe this was all just a crazy dream.

The time to leave fast approached, and with those lingering questions you found yourself in the back of an Uber on your way to destiny.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The interior of the restaurant was dated in its decor and sparsely populated, even when it was time for the dinner rush. You were the first one there, the aromatic smell of spices and wine hit you like a wall causing your stomach to clench painfully in hunger. The hostess was a small, mousey woman, who upon your request, sat you in one of the booths on the far side corner of the restaurant, more privacy, you figured.

Quickly the cool-headedness you were able to maintain from the safety of your home gives away to waves upon waves of anxiety. Bouncing your legs and chewing your nails was all you could do to relieve some of the pent-up nervousness as the seconds felt like hours. You cursed yourself silently for needing to arrive early.

Your suffering is somewhat short-lived, however, and as the clock hit 7:00 on the dot, the bells on the entrance door chimed as two handsome, well-groomed men walked in. It was easy to identify the pair as your evening guests.

They were nicely dressed in outfits not dissimilar to your own. They too spotted you easily, and with a swagger in their walks that made you need to look away, they both slid next to one another in the seats opposite to you. It was weird, though. Having both THE Kim Seokjin AND Kim Namjoon sitting across from you should make you feel 10x more anxious than you had before, and yet, slowly, you felt the tension in your shoulders come to dissipate, and when you really focused, the buzzy, electrical feeling from the previous night was becoming more and more prominent.

“Thank you for meeting us,” Jin took the lead. “This is Namjoon.”

You cracked a smile. “I know.”

“Well, I didn’t want to presume…” Jin trailed off embarrassed. You didn’t think you had ever seen Jin get embarrassed before, it was cute.

“Hi,” Namjoon said, offering his hand to you. You took it, and before you could greet him back, the very same warm, tingly sensation zipped up your hand and down your spine. Your smile quickly faded as you found yourself needing to grip the table to reorient yourself.

“Woah…” you breathed, shaking your head to clear some of the building haze.

The two boys looked at each other, then back to you.

“We’re going to talk about that, actually,” Namjoon said. “But first let's put our orders in.”

It was easy enough to flag down a waitress and place your orders. Small talk was easy to pass the time until your meals were served.

“So…” you began, picking at your salad. “Every time I touch you guys I get a weird feeling, whenever I am around you guys I get a different weird feeling, and at least Jin was acting weird around me.”

The pair sat back in the booths and sighed, before looking to one another.

“I’ll start,” Namjoon said. “What do you know about soulmates?”

“Basically what everyone else knows.” You stated. “One true love and all that. Although…” you trailed off. You triggered a memory, distant at first but grows with clarity when you concentrate on it.

“Daddy, what’s a soulmate?” You asked, book in hand, curled up in your reading nook in his laboratory.

“Well I suppose that depends on who you ask,” He said, not pausing from his work. “If you ask most people, I think they would tell you that it was someone they love a lot, or maybe someone who they feel like they’ve known for longer than they’ve actually known them.”

“Hmm.” You responded. “What if I don’t ask most people?”

“Hm?” Your dad asked, confused.

“Well, you said if I asked most people, that they would say all that. What if I don’t ask most people.”

“Ah,” He said, holding up two liquids seemingly comparing them. “Well, some other people would tell you that soulmates are different than just people you love a lot. They would tell you that souls are real, and when a soul is created, it is created alongside another. Usually, they are created in pairs, but it's not unheard of for them to be created in groups larger than that. Each soul is placed in a different vessel, but it will always pine for the soul it was created with.”

“Woah…” You respond in awe. “What happens when you meet your soulmate?”

“They say when you meet your soulmate, you’ll just know.” He said, notating something down in his journal. “Your soul calls out to theirs, long lost lover and friends reuniting after millennia. You burn and ache for the other until your souls are finally tied in a tying ritual. The tying ritual gives you a bond that you can communicate simple ideas or feelings over.”

“Wow! What kind of ritual do you have to do?” You asked, curiously.

“Oh well,” he paused from his work, looking away. “It is a bit too complicated for you now, but when you get older I will explain.”

“Do I have a soulmate?”

“Of course, you have a soul don’t you?”

“Ew. I don’t want a soulmate, Daddy.”

He laughed at you, walking over to you to pat your head.

“I’m afraid there are just some things in life that we cannot control, Pumpkin. Besides, I’m not going to be around forever, and it makes me feel better that you’ll have someone to keep you company someday.”

“Nooo!” you whined. “Who else is going to make strawberry rhubarb pie with dinosaurs? You have to stay around forever, okay Daddy?”

He laughed at you again, kissing the top of your forehead before returning to his work. “Sure thing, princess.”

You shake your head bringing you back to the present as the memory flicked by. “Souls are created alongside other souls and put inside of people who then spend their whole lives looking for each other and once you find the person you just know and you can tie the souls together and they’ll be happily ever after.” You summarized from your memory.

“Pretty much,” Namjoon said. “I was worried you were completely unaware. Have you ever met anyone you felt that way about?”

“Like just knowing? Not really.” You admitted with a shrug. You had loved before, certainly, but you guessed that soul mates were something bigger, much more profound. Someone you loved and knew deeper than summer romances and puppy love.

“We have,” Jin spoke up this time.

“Oh,” You said, eyebrows coming together in confusion.

“But I kissed you, you must be now wondering,” Jin said. You nodded slowly in response.

“When you are near me, what sensations do you feel?” He asked.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. “I feel like there is a current running through me, and the more I spend time with you and the closer in proximity to you I get, the stronger the feeling gets. My brain gets dizzy and hazy like I’ve had a few glasses of wine, and yet my acuity is still razor sharp. And when I touch you, it feels… weird.” You confessed. When I touch you it feels really good and it makes me want to touch you endlessly you added in your mind.

They shared a knowing glance before Namjoon spoke. “THAT is the feeling. THAT is knowing.”

“Huh?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow. “I thought knowing was more of an abstract concept, like wow it feels like I have known this person my whole life, I think I want to marry them someday.”

“In the movies, absolutely,” Namjoon agreed. “But those feelings are your soul, physically calling out to ours.”

“You’re kidding.” You said, unbelieving.

“Let me ask you this then,” Namjoon begins. “Yesterday when you were kissing Jin hyung, I bet it felt so, incredibly right, right?”

You looked at Jin. If you could be honest with yourself, you wanted to climb over this table and kiss him again. Maybe then he’d bend you over the table and take you right here, Namjoon’s hands on you helping bring you to completion- you cut yourself off before the thought can continue further.

Namjoon looked at you knowingly.

“So if I am to believe that what you are saying is correct, I am the soul mate to both of you.” You asked, matter of fact.

“We are suggesting that you are all of our soulmates,” Jin stated, looking at you seriously.

“As in, all 7 of you.” You asked again matter-of-factly.

They nodded in response.

You laughed, exasperated. “Bring out the cameras because this is un-fucking-believable. This has to be a joke.”

The serious expression on both of the boys’ faces says otherwise.

“I know this must be a lot to take in,” Jin said honestly. “It was a lot for me as well. And the others.”

“What?” You asked, confused again.

They share a look and Namjoon nods encouragingly before Jin speaks again.

“We are actually all mated to each other, all 7 of us.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “You guys are as close as you portray online.”

The pair chuckle at that.

“Me and Yoongi found each other first and from there we found different members at different times. Every member struggled with it in different ways, so you probably aren’t alone in anything you’re feeling right now.” Namjoon said.

“You said mated. What does it mean to be mated?”

“Oh, it just means that we marked each other.” Namjoon rolled up his sleeves, showing off two gashes, dark in coloration one next to the other. “We all have one. You can either accept the pairing and become marked, or reject it and become a single soul.”

“What is the marking process?” You ask.

“You don’t know?” Namjoon asks, before putting on a serious face. “In short it is a bonding ritual involving sex.”

You flushed red at that notion. “So if I wanted to be marked by each of you I would have to…” You trailed off, imagery and fantasy flooding your brain causing you to snap your knees closed. Namjoon looked away, swallowing hard.

“Yes,” Jin states plainly. “But there is a rejection process as well. None of us are familiar with it, but if that is the choice you’d want to make we’d happily assist you with that.”

“We should be a little more clear with you as well,” Namjoon looks at you again. “You have full choice and freedom in this case, but ultimately, now that you have found your soulmates, the empty, hollow feeling you will have when we are apart, and the buzzy electric feeling when we are together will become more and more unbearable as time goes on and if you don’t make your choice at all, it will drive you mad.”

“How long do I have to decide?”

“A few days, a week at maximum.” He answered earnestly.

“You are right this is a lot to take in.” You sighed heavily. “With all due respect, I know you based on some well-edited clips and your music. You are all attractive as hell don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know you, and intertwining your life with someone you have an entirely parasocial relationship with is, in a word, insane. And for you guys too, you don’t even know me.

“That is true, but we didn’t know any of the members that well when we went through the mating ritual,” Namjoon said with a shrug. “Besides, did you really think the universe was so unkind as to leave you without a way to break the bond? People can change, become abusive and cruel, and with or without your partner's consent you can break the mating bond at any time.”

That brought you some comfort. At least there was an ejection seat if the shit hit the fan.

“This is a lot to process,” you stated, rubbing your temples in frustration.

“I am the oldest, but I was the fourth to join,” Jin started. “When I found out I was pretty upset, I had a solid lifestyle going for me that I didn’t intend to give up.”

“How did you overcome that?” You asked.

“It was Namjoon that convinced me,” he said, gesturing at the younger man. “He asked me to get to know them. That the divines or the universe or fate had good intentions and I would be sorry if I didn’t at least try.”

“I was a bit heavy-handed and naive,” Namjoon cut in, embarrassed.

“At any rate,” Jin continued, “I resolved to give it a month. I wanted to date them, get to know them, you know?” He laughed. “I think I barely made it a week. Something about the all-consuming pull of your soul is hard to resist.”

“I bet…” was all you were able to mumble in response. “I feel bad,” You confessed. “About the whole getting-to-know-you thing.”

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asked.

“I think it’s fairly obvious that I am a fan,” you began, “and while I can’t claim to know you, I would certainly argue that I know each of you just a little more than you know me.”

“We have forever to get to know you,” Jin said with a wink. Namjoon elbowed him in response.

“For starters, I’m sure you understand that our public personas are different than our public ones,” Namjoon began “But put more politely, Jin is correct. In the way that some humans go through with arranged marriages that sometimes work out, sometimes something bigger than us calls us to make a leap of faith and trust that it works out.”

“That sounds like we are putting pressure on the situation. I think I speak for both of us when I say we meant to simply arm you with the most amount of information we can provide. Besides, on the getting-to-know-you front, we know more than you might think,” Jin said.

“Do tell.” You stated, raising an eyebrow. “It appears you somehow found out who I was, and further that I was a dance teacher.”

“I know you’re hiding some cute ears under all that hair,” Jin said with a lilt.

You instinctively reached up to make sure they were still in place. “How could you possibly…” you mumbled.

“The truth is,” Namjoon started, lowering his voice. “We aren’t exactly human either, and our, shall we call it, conditions, allow us to sense the energy of different creatures.”

“So you’ve known the whole time?” You asked, flabbergasted.

“Pretty much,” Jin stated.

“Sorry, that's just like, probably my biggest secret and it is just out there so I’m a little off-put. Not that it’s your fault just, in conjunction with everything…” You trailed off.

“We thought it important that you also knew,” Namjoon said. “That we are vampires.”

“Vampires?” You repeated. “All of you?”

“Yes,” He replied.

“No wonder you are all so unearthly attractive,” you mumbled under your breath.

They both chuckle at that.

“When we meet a soulmate, sometimes something darker, more carnal comes out. Vampires, once they are connected with their mates, can only feed off of them. All other blood becomes a virulent poison, so everything in a vampire’s body commands them to claim and mark their mate as soon as possible. Prevents their only food source from walking away.” Namjoon stated.

“That’s why I kissed you suddenly in the studio,” Jin explained. “It’s not that I didn’t want to already, but I had resolved to not make any physical contact with you until all of this had been laid out, but the way you were looking up at me, the feeling of your hand on my body, your smell in that warm, closed room…” he trailed off before clearing this throat. “It was too much to bear. It brought out that dark side and well, you were there. I’m sorry for doing that without giving you the proper context.”

“It’s fine,” You admitted. “Truthfully, I wanted you to kiss me, and I enjoyed it.” I wanted you to do more, you thought to yourself. “I was more hurt and confused when you, superhumanly I am now realizing, left with barely a word.”

Jin’s expression was nothing if not apologetic. “I realize that must have been upsetting, and again I’m sorry for that too.”

“But wait,” You began, tilting your head to the side. “If you are all vampires and are mated to each other, then do you drink each other’s blood? Do you even have blood in your body to drink? And if a vampire can only feed from their soulmate once they’re found, what happens if rejection occurs?”

“Yes and no,” Jin said. “It is actually a myth that vampires don’t have blood. The vampire toxin mutates the blood of the person being turned and makes it so it's the only way for the new body to get energy. Problem is, vampiric blood isn’t very nutritious and it takes forever to regenerate by itself, so we have to supplement with animal blood usually. It's barely edible, and not that much more nutritious but it's better than being dead.”

“Fascinating,” You said. “The universe really fucked you all over making you all mates and vampires then, huh.”

“Tell me about it,” said Namjoon.

“Well, what about my other question?” You asked.

They exchanged uncomfortable looks.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Namjoon said gravely.

“I thought we were being honest with each other?” You asked, feeling slightly frustrated.

“We are, it’s just…” Namjoon sighed. “It would add stress to a stressful and confusing situation and I don’t want you to worry about it.”

“Well, now I am worried!” You exclaimed.

A few beats of silence passed between you all.

“Just tell her, Joon,” Jin said.

Namjoon sighed at that. “When a vampire is rejected, or when a vampire’s bond is severed, the vampire dies. Jin mentioned that we can subsist on animal blood for nutrition, but what he didn’t mention, is that the consumption of energy is also part of what vampires consume when they eat blood, and once you find your soulmate, it is only their energy you can subsist off of.”

“So you’re saying…” You trail off, flabbergasted, before starting again. “You’re saying should I choose to reject you all, I am dooming you to starve to death and die.”

“You understand why I was reluctant to tell you.”

You put your head in your hands, head spinning with the information dump of the last hour. How could it be in just 48 hours you went from a passing fan to suddenly, apparently, being the deciding factor whether or not BTS dies? It was too much to handle, and with the added pressure, you felt like your head was going to explode.

“I need time.” You managed to say.

“Perfectly understandable,” The pair agreed.

“I have to go, I think,” You said, starting to stand up. “It was lovely to meet you but being so close is messing with my mind a little.”

“By all means,” Namjoon said. “Don’t worry about the check, it’s the least we can do.”

“Okay, thank you.” You said, standing fully now. “You have my phone number, text me any time, I guess. Bye.” You began somewhat robotically walking away from the two men who had just turned your life upside down, out of the restaurant, and into the cool early night air.

You walked for hours, the outside had always been a place of meditation and peace for you. Your mind swam, full of questions and concerns. On one side, your heart soared at the chance to be with BTS, by all appearances they were hot, funny, kind, and interesting people that just about anyone would sell their grandma to be with. On the other side, you worried. About how you didn’t really know them personally, how they didn’t know you, how stupid and impractical it was to make a life promise to someone you barely knew let alone 7 someones, and most importantly, it concerned you how loudly something deep within you called for you to accept them. Now, there was the added pressure of not killing them. If only you were here, you sighed inwardly. You’d tell me what I should do.

Somehow, you found yourself full, your feet sore, and no closer to a conclusion. You collapsed on your bed, exhausted, sleep finding you and carrying you off as soon as your eyes closed.

125 notes · View notes

galacticnikki · 3 months ago

Text

100 Witchcraft Tips in 100 Days!

Day 11 - Dressing Your Candle

Dressing With Wax

As mentioned in a previous post, color is a big part of picking a candle. Candle magic utilizes color magic for it's intent. Adding additional wax in different colors can help you to include multiple types of intentions. Pleas refer to Day 10 - Pairing Crystals With Candle Magic for information on the different intents behind different candle colors. A simple and easy method I've found for dressing candles with other wax colors is taking a large piece of leftover wax from another candle and melt it over the candle you're trying to dress. It's important if you're using this method to rotate the candle frequently for even distribution of the wax. Another common method I've heard is the double boiler method. You melt down the wax using a double boiler and using a spoon drizzling it across the candle.

Dressing With Herbs

I've talked intensely about herbs and their correspondences. Dressing a candle with herbs I've found is much more difficult then candle wax or sigils. There are two common methods I've learned over the years. Both methods require a flat dish or pan lined with parchment paper so make sure you have that on hand. The first method includes softening the outside layer of wax and rolling the candle over the herbs. The second method uses a layer of oil on the outside of the candle and is then rolled over the herbs.

Common Pairings:

Pink Candle + Rose Petals, Hibiscus, and Jasmine: Used in love and romance spells.

Black or White Candle + Rosemary, Thyme, and Black Pepper: Used for protection and banishing.

Green Candle + Basil, Cinnamon, and Bay Leaves: Used for abundance.

Blue or White Candle + Lavender, Eucalyptus, and Thyme: Used for healing.

Blue or White Candle + Lemon Balm, Hyssop, Cedar

Dressing With Sigils

Dressing candles with sigils is one of the easiest methods of dressing a candle. There are no restrictions on the intent behind sigils as one can be made for any intention the user requires. I typically try to incorporate wax dressing alongside sigils as that's something very near and dear to me. Dressing a candle with a sigil is as easy as figuring out your intent, finding a sharp firm object like a toothpick, and drawing the sigil onto your candle. Don't feel limited to just one however, use as many sigils as you feel you need when dressing your candle.

If you want to find more of these entries use the hashtag #100 Witchcraft Tips in 100 Days!

36 notes · View notes

cloveroctobers · 1 year ago

Text

OCTOBER PROMPTS 🎃 — 1. Luca

PROMPTS from here + here and I’m using: “I really appreciate that you’re getting into the Halloween spirit, but it’s ten in the morning, please turn off the slasher films so I can eat my breakfast in peace.” + “Pumpkin spiced latte, please.”

A/N: so glad Luca was voted for the most on the poll lol because he’s the only one out of the options I started writing for in the drafts! let’s see if I can keep up with making these short this year 🤭! This is nothing but fluff and a smidge of annoyance — reader on Luca’s nerves just a bit really. Mentions of a classic horror film, that I actually need to go back and watch! I think I watched it once before since I won’t lie I usually watch the more updated versions when it comes to that franchise more so,, although I’m not the biggest fan of the series anyways like dear Luca…don’t drag us too much ⚔️!!!

WARNINGS: Reader being a bum for the day? Luca just wants to eat without background noise? + slight language, oh and pumpkin slander!

*GIF BELONGS TO: @wiha-jun !

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。

Luca prefers his mornings to be soothing, not filled with screams that can make anyone’s ear drums bleed or have the neighbors in the cul- de-sac sending the coppers right over. He had just gotten back from his morning run around the city, finding you sleeping down on the couch now compared to your shared bed. Which was humorous that you had the energy to climb out of the bed wrapped in mountains of blankets that you kept stored in a woven basket tucked away in the living space; during his absence just to continue your rest on the pale gray sofa.

You barely budged when he announced he was heading out into the damp morning and also repeated the same motion when he’s back, gently bending down to press a kiss to your edges before disappearing upstairs to shower. You’re awake with lidded eyes once he’s arrived downstairs, smelling of fresh mint soap and Olibanum as you’re messing around with the flatscreen on the entertainment center.

“Are you truly awake for the day darling or is it going to be another two to three business days?” Luca jokes on his way by, not expecting what you were going to set the television on.

You’re mocking him, voice still full of sleep, leaving the taller man to chuckle to himself as he heads into the kitchen, searching the fridge around the corner to ponder over what he can whip up. There’s plenty of possibilities as Luca’s eyes scan over what’s stocked in the fridge, finding that’s something he had to do now that you both shared a home together.

He could do cold smoked salmon…putting the protein to good use along with the radish and watercress…yet you were out of cream cheese. He could always ask his favorite critic, brace yourselves, it’s not Luca himself but rather you, what you were feeling like for breakfast but he knew regardless what he prepared you’d probably eat.

Thinking to himself, fingers tapping against the handle of the open fridge, he decides to go for something simple and more festive if you will. So he decides on homemade maple pancakes, without the walnuts since you were allergic and picks the pecans that your grandfather brought over from his pecan tree back in Georgia earlier this year. He’ll fry up some danish bacon with thyme searing the pan—hoping to bring flavor to the pork—or really to basically get rid of it, although it was a kind gesture from a neighbor who learned Luca was in the culinary field—the both of you were not the biggest fans of Denmark’s bacon.

No disrespect of course.

“Hey, want some of this Risalamande?” Luca calls out as you began to get engaged into the film, that’s probably been on for about twenty minutes since Luca takes more time debating on what to eat at home than when he’s out in the city.

Immediately your nose scrunches up as Luca is diving into the colorful rice pudding, leaning against the doorway that leads to the living room and front of the detached home, “Texture, Luca. Come on!”

Luca snorts with a slight roll of his eyes, “Ah, I see I’m getting picky you this morning, yeah?”

A wag of your finger as if it were a wand goes shooting into the air while you respond, “Sssh!”

“Rude.”

Luca spins back into the kitchen with a shake of his head, downing what most would consider a Christmas dessert but he doesn’t care one bit. He’s a man that enjoys eating and Christmas was more of his holiday anyway.

That holds him over long enough and he’s got the comfort of him whisking the dry ingredients together, focus steady on getting just the right mixture before moving onto the wet ingredients. It’s easy work really, which means Luca doesn’t mind making breakfast more than any other meal. It was similar to his own work, yet pastries were more his speed and he often challenged himself to try out new techniques majority of the time, so it wouldn’t always be easy but it was the pleasure in knowing that this is the starting point of your day, which beats a protein bar any way.

Luca uses his hands everyday and yeah it so happened to surprisingly be his weekend off, he didn’t mind keeping his hands busy when it came to breakfast and serving to the person he truly adores.

He’s at the stove, with minutes passing by at ease, his arched brows raising so often when the tempo of the movie begins to picks up. “What are you watching?”

He can’t help but to ask.

“…The Evil Dead, 1981.” He’s shocked he even gets a response from you since you tend to zone out when it comes to media.

Sometimes it was certainly a bad habit. You were an environmental documentary editor so it wasn’t unusual for you to get wrapped up in screens. Yet Luca couldn’t really blame you for that since he got lost in his craft as well; the both of you were working to get better with turning those habits off when together.

…if you don’t count right now that is! There was nothing wrong with being passionate about your interests but it was also always important to prioritize your partner, especially when work was a good chunk of your lives, yet it wasn’t the only thing that mattered. The both of you understood that.

He hums, finding possession films and gory themes weren’t really his thing. He actually has a weak system when it came to those type of horror films or rather blood (passing out from the mere sight fake or not or simply the stench of it is not something Luca was proud to admit) and let’s just say he was glad to not be in the room with you now. Horror really wasn’t your lane either, you were more into sci-fi films whereas Luca loved a good action film or documentary.

You were both each others test subjects, you with his food and him with your edits on your hybrid schedule.

“Come eat,” Luca says after while, the food steaming and filling the house with a sweet, salty and slightly earthy aroma.

He’s wiping his hands off with a rag, which he steps to the center of the kitchen, balling up the used rag to toss with a swift flick of the wrist into the laundry room up ahead. The rag plunks right on the washer and Luca smirks to himself before heading back to the dining table tucked in the corner by the oven. He always sits with his back to the oven because in a sense it’s brings him placidness. It didn’t make much sense to you since you originally thought Luca just wanted the view of the screened in conservatory all to himself but he flirted that you were enough of a view for him. Nonetheless he didn’t really need to explain it to you, if that’s the spot Luca wanted then so be it. You rarely argued about it simply because you could eat out there if you really wanted. He could keep the meaning of sitting with his back to the oven to himself. Perhaps it was his way of putting it behind him for awhile when engaged with you? Who truly knows but you did think about it a bit once you settled into the shared home.

Luca’s pulling himself up to the table, picking up a fork to start plating and clenched his eyes as more screams fill the home.

“I really appreciate that you’re getting into the Halloween spirit, but it’s ten in the morning, please turn off the slasher film so I can eat my breakfast in peace.” Luca calls out to you, after picking up that you were in a lazy mood and not ready to join him at the table.

The film actually gets lower as Luca shoves the pancake into his mouth, beginning to chew the meal as you say back, “pumpkin spiced latte, please.”

Luca questions with his mouth full, “what was that?”

“I’ll join you if there’s a pumpkin spiced latte waiting for me.”

Luca sits back in his chair and swallows, “you don’t even enjoy pumpkin so what are you on about?”

“But it’s fall, Luca.”

Luca pinches the space in between his skinny brows, “…for fucks sake, you’re quite spoiled you know that?”

“I love you.” You sing out while Luca scoffs.

He comments, “You better.”

So now he’s up on his feet again, messing with the olive espresso machine that you still won’t tell him how much you paid for last Christmas, he’ll use the last bit of maple syrup that he had leftover from the pancakes, there’s no pumpkin spice in the flat since he isn’t a big fan of pumpkin flavor either so he uses: 2 teaspoons cinnamon, 1/8 teaspoon nutmeg, 1/8 teaspoon ginger, and 1/8 teaspoon of ground cloves, yet he brought home some pumpkin purée that one of his fall-loving co-workers gave to him; homemade from her mini pumpkin patch in her backyard, he steams the oat milk, mixes the espresso, puree, syrup, spices, and vanilla all together before combining it with the milk. From there he frothed it just for a few seconds to get some foam and finally tops it off with whipped cream and more cinnamon.

Sitting back down, he slides the drink over to your side of the table and before he can call out to you to inform it’s ready, he’s hearing the shuffle of your feet in those ridiculous hot pink fluffy slippers. Luca glances at you and finds you rather cute still in your cozy pj’s and hair a complete mess.

“Your royalty,” Luca bows towards your drink, making you gasp playfully as you approach him, placing a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, “it’s still hot,” he warns as you reach over for the handle of the mug at the same time but you pick it up with ease.

You peek at the latte and then back at him saying, “Shoo,” you wave your hand making Luca frown up at you.

You and these damn hand movements, you should be a conductor like your older sibling instead.

He soon picks up on what else you want, making yourself comfortable right in his lap, making Luca shake his head at you, tangling around you now so he can finish the breakfast but with you in his lap.

You on the other hand werent much of a breakfast person, although you loved a good brunch moment with your mates! but you hardly turned down much of what Luca prepared. He knew you’d get around to the pancakes if you didn’t start picking at his own plate soon.

“How is it?”

You nod, running your tongue over the top of your lip to get rid of the whipped cream, “hmm, now I kinda see what those pumpkin bitches go crazy over.”

Luca chuckles, “do I get to sample?”

“It’s the least I can do,” you tease as you blow on the steam before tipping the mug towards Luca’s lips.

He ends up blowing on it more before sipping and it’s your turn to watch his own opinion before he says it. You can always tell what direction this may go based on the way his eyebrows and eyes move.

“Not half bad if I do say so myself but a smoked butterscotch latte from Café bønne is actually better. I frankly don’t see the hype with this latte.” Luca shrugged with a pinch of his lips in thought before turning his hand back to the bacon.

You groan, “we haven’t been there in ages! We should go there today.”

“Nope, storms coming in this afternoon actually with a chance of power outages which is why you should eat those pancakes sooner than later, love.” Luca explains before adding, “should have gone running with me this morning. I passed by that route today too.” Luca tells you while you take another sip of the latte.

You weren’t aware of any storm coming in but you had to admit that you fell asleep on the news last night after the show you stayed up to watch with Luca went off. It really amazes you how he can stay up late and get up to function the next day. You on the other hand? Had to follow a routine or else you’ll be no good at work, hybrid schedule or not.

“Fine, I guess the shitty pumpkin makes up for it.”

Luca peeks at you mid chew, “Are you insulting my beverage when you asked for it?”

“Never! This definitely gets a 8.5 across the board. So I’ll shut my spoiled self up, babes.”

“Now that’s the spirit.”

A shove to his shoulder makes Luca wink and grin over at you, poking his lips out for a peck, making you aware that he was only teasing you.

Sighing you lean forward to press your lips against his in a chaste kiss, “thanks for breakfast.”

With his free tatted hand, he runs the pad of his thumb against the childhood scar on your kneecap stating with a smile, “anytime, darling.” He says as he peers at you from underneath his eyelashes before tossing in, “Even when you’re being a picky pain in my arse.”

“Welp! Moment’s ruined.” You hopped off Luca’s lap while he tried to latch onto you with a laugh but you swung your hips out of his reach, however not without plunking up his last pancake to take with you.

See!

Luca huffs, sticking his tongue into the side of his cheek before taking your plate with him to follow you into the living room. You’re seated back on the couch and he sits on the opposite end of it, tangling his limbs with yours as you cover each other with the blankets.

“This pancake is delicious.”

“So are yours,” Luca is smug as he eats from your plate now before glancing at the horror film on screen with disgust, then softening his expression as he sets his eyes back on you.

Which leads to the both of you taking turns eating pancakes and sharing the pumpkin latte, making the feel of autumn in the atmosphere sink in with the warmth of each other.

Hours later…you’re laying cuddled up to Luca’s chest on the couch, the rhythm of his chest rising and falling along with his hands clasped together against the small of your back is enough to almost put you to sleep. The wind has picked up now, whistling through the cloudy skies of Copenhagen followed by a harsh patter of rain that can be heard from the ceiling of the living room.

Which is just enough remedy for the both of you while you rest until you suddenly ask, “what did you think of the evil dead?”

Luca almost grimaces before he states, “…I prefer midsommar.”

“I want to debunk that with you but I also want to go back to sleep.”

Luca laughs before nuzzling his cheek against your head, “Fine by me, we have time to get into it later.”

“Over pancakes?”

“Breakfast for dinner? As long as you promise to actually sit at the table with me?”

“There’s no place I’d rather be…and I also want to hear your thoughts on that film. A true Mukbang starring us two, can’t get any better than that, no?”

A smile curls onto Luca’s lips at your excitement, then he speaks, “who’s the audience then?”

“The entities that maybe lurking around this house.”

Luca pops a eye open, “I really don’t like how you just said that. Especially after you had me watching that horrid fucking film.”

“Hey! A lot of horror lovers will definitely drag you for that but don’t worry, I’ll fight anything and anyone that dares to step to my man and that’s on what?”

Luca shakes his head while pretending to think about it, “period? Or whatever it is you say. You’re still a brat for saying that though. I don’t know if you notice but Halloween isn’t until the end of the month.”

“I’m sorry,” you coo squeezing his shoulder, “but Halloween starts as soon as September hits and don’t you forget it you big baby.” You curl your hand from around Luca’s shoulder to squeeze his cheeks together.

“You’re the…baby.” Luca mimics, his cheeks now appearing like a gapping fish due to your actions, “Taking thirty naps a day and being a massive pain in my bum.”

“NAURR,” you exaggerate making Luca lift his brows in annoyance before you continue, “I’m your favorite headache.”

Luca let’s out a sigh, “you’re not wrong.”

“I never am,” you sass before the room goes quiet a bit more—besides the weather outside until you voice your thoughts out loud, “Midsommar though? Really? I wouldn’t put that and Evil Dead in the same category.”

Now it was Luca’s turn to shush you.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°

Continue along with my October anthology prompts here.

#the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear s2 #the bear hulu #the bear fx #luca the bear #will poulter #october prompts #Luca the bear x reader #will poulter x reader #queued #Spotify

214 notes · View notes

iamfarfromvibingrightnow · 2 months ago

Note

Dear donor friends, we are living in a famine. There is no food. You can imagine that our children are sleeping hungry and crying every day asking for food. We are suffering from oppression due to our weakness in front of them, unable to feed them and protect them. I am a pregnant mother and I need food, nourishment and vitamins for the sake of the fetus, but... Unfortunately, we live only on thyme, dukkah, and canned food. Please, and I beg you, look at us. We need you to donate, share, talk, and donate. Please, do not stop and donate even if it is $5.

21 notes · View notes

cptapathy · 6 months ago

Note

hey! what are you favorite ttrpgs?

Dice tumble

Pen scratch

A held breath

A promised climax

We sit around our table/

At our desk/in a circle on the floor

And together we laugh

And smile and more

We love these creations in our heads

As they dance and fight and flee

And as the night draws close to us

We hold them warm and tightly

These people we conjure are dear to me

For they are the crystal through which I look

To see the life I share with you

And the love we have for each other

Okay so my favourite ttrpg changes as I play them but right now it's A.N.I.M's EURKEA!

I have always been a fan of murder mysteries from Agatha Christie, to pie in the sky, Midsomer Murders, Rosemary and Thyme and everything in between.

I had run several murder mysteries in different ttrpgs and even a couple of murder mystery larps (including a spectacular zombie one) but I'd never found a system that truely captured what murder mysteries feel like.

Then I discovered Eureka and the Eureka mechanic and it all clicked. You could say it was a eureka moment.

I'm going to discuss in some detail the mechanic and give an example but before that everyone should go and

a. Follow A.N.I.M. on tumblr

@anim-ttrpgs

b. Join their patreon so we can get the gorgan playable investigator. Go look at all the cool stuff!

https://www.patreon.com/TheAgencyofNarrativeIntrigueandMysteryPatreon/posts

Essentially A.N.I.M have separated dice rolls into two categories

1. Investigation rolls

2. Non-investigation rolls

Investigation rolls are when an investigator is trying to uncover information or clues to progress the investigation. (Pretty clear definition) non-investigation rolls are all other rolls (combat, hiding secrets, getting out of dodge etc.)

Whenever an investigator makes an investigation roll there are 3 possible outcomes

1 Failure - they do not success and/or complications arise - they gain 3 Eureka points

2 partial success/mixed success - they get part of a clue or a clue and a complication - they gain 2 Eureka points

3 full success - they gain the clue without issue - they gain one Eureka point

When the investigators have a full eureka bar they can use a EUREKA!

This allows them to roll a check with 3d6 and take the highest instead of 2d6 or (my favourite option) gain clues from previous failed rolls.

So to take the most iconic episode of Midsomer Murders as an example - "The Killings At Badgers Drift"

Spoilers and CW for references to incest.

DCI Barnerby arrests the foppish artist on suspicion of murder, during the arrest the artist's sister arrives and the artist crys out "I've been framed" and makes a sign of a square with his fingers.

The DCI Makes an investigation roll but biffs it, snake eyes, complete failure, no hope of discovering that clue.

Later on The DCI is talking to a woman at a call centre who was the last known person to speak to the victim. Apparently the victim said "just like poor annabella" before hanging up. Again the DCI makes an investigation roll this time getting a partial success, there is someone related who has a name similar to annabella who died from an "accident" and the DCI decides to investigate this accident as well now, thinking (correctly) that it might not be so accidental.

But now the DCI has a full eureka bar and so the player shouts out eureka to gain the clue from the failed check earlier. And so, that night, the DCI has a dream of all the relevant clues and realises the clue missed when the artist made the symbol and said "I've been framed" it was a code, to tell his sister that the evidence of their affair (the nude painting he did of her) was in the attic and could prove that they were working together to keep their affair secret. This new vital clue allows the DCI to search for, and find, the painting helping to solve the mystery.

And so that is one reason I love eureka, along with the approach to disability and monster characters. It's currently got a free demo and stuff, go support them they're great.

#jess rambles #lextothemax #indie ttrpg #ttrpg community #ttrpg #poetry #they also have a ttrpg bookclub that i recommend #check them out!#jess answers

41 notes · View notes

cursedonyx · 8 months ago

Note

Helloo

(English isn‘t my first Language). I‘m new in the hogwarts legacy fandom and adore your fanfictions and cute stuff around a lot!

Could you write just a little Fanfic about mc is sick and fig is taking care? Haven‘t found a sickfic about them but have the feeling i need it because i love their parent-child-like relationship. >w<

Have a nice day!

Sorry it took a while, but I hope this is what you were looking for!

Professor Fig looks after MC when they're poorly.

Word Count - ~800

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MC felt like ass.

They’d woken that morning with a sniffly nose, but by the time they’d dragged themselves out of bed and to the Great Hall for breakfast, they’d realised something was terribly wrong. Everything they ate tasted like cardboard, and no matter how much they drank, their head just didn’t stop hurting. Their muscles were like water, and it was a struggle to stay awake.

Professor Fig noticed as they staggered up from their house table, swaying alarmingly and almost toppling over backwards. He was on his feet in a moment and rushing to their side, supporting them gently.

“We need to get you to the Hospital Wing,” he said, propping them up as the other students craned to get a look at the commotion.

MC shook their head as quickly as they could, then stopped when it made them dizzy. They hated hospitals, and Fig knew this as well as anyone. With a low sigh, he tugged their arm over his shoulders and supported them out of the Great Hall, eventually bending to scoop their legs and carry them when it became clear they weren’t going to be able to walk all the way up to his office.

Once there, Fig laid them on the sofa and covered them with a blanket, peering in concern at their shiny red nose and puffy eyes. He picked up a cloth and mopped at the beads of sweat on their brow.

“Dear oh dear,” he said. “You’ve come down with quite the illness, it seems. You must have been overexerting yourself again, hm?”

MC nodded vaguely, and it rather seemed to Fig that they weren’t completely lucid. He cooled the cloth with a charm and laid it on their forehead, settling back on his haunches and watching them with deep concern. It was no secret that he’d grown to care deeply for MC, as if they were his own, and it pained him greatly to see them so unwell.

He levitated a chair over and sat upon it, wondering what to do. Obviously the best thing to do would be to have them under the care of Madam Blainey, but MC was deathly afraid of hospitals and anything resembling them. It’d only serve to distress them.

Fig sat back and ran a hand over his face. He remembered rather well all the times he’d been poorly as a boy, curled up in his bed or on the threadbare sofa his parents owned. A smile touched his lips as he remembered his father reading to him in his sonorous voice, lulling him to sleep, his mother making a hearty chicken broth on the stove to soothe his sore throat.

That would be it, then. If MC wouldn’t go to the hospital wing or take any medicine, he’d just have to do it the old-fashioned way.

Making sure that MC was as comfortable as possible and asleep, Fig darted down to the kitchens and begged the house elves for ingredients for a soothing chicken broth. It took a while to convince them that no, he didn’t want them to make it for him, he just wanted the ingredients, and maybe a recipe or two. He had to do this himself, it wouldn’t be the same if the elves did it for him. The best part of a homemade, healthsome soup was the fact it was made with love.

Fig carted the ingredients back to his office and cooled the cloth on MC’s brow again, checking to see if there had been any improvement. They were sound asleep, but their breathing was laboured and their fever was high. Setting his lips in a thin line, Fig conjured a cauldron and began to prepare a wholesome soup.

MC woke a few hours later, the rich scents of chicken and thyme pushing through the stuffiness of their nose. Wincing, they shifted on the sofa, wondering where they were, but Fig was beside them in an instant, pressing a small bowl of steaming soup into their hands. When MC proved they could spoon it into their mouth unaided, Fig shuffled onto the sofa behind their head, letting them rest against him as they devoured the broth and asking for seconds, warmed from the toes up by this magical brew that seemed to clear their head and soothe their spirit.

Fig chuckled, making sure they had plenty to drink, and summoned a book of fairy tales into his hand. He opened to a random page and began to read, his soft, gentle voice filling his office as MC set their bowl aside and curled up, their head in his lap, their eyelids fluttering as they listened to him read. Within the hour, they were asleep, but Fig kept reading, hoping that the stories he told would somehow wind their way into MC’s dreams, giving them fantastical visions of the impossible, knowing in his heart that they were capable of all that and more.

#hogwarts legacy #eleazar fig #professor fig #sickfic #caretaking

45 notes · View notes

pasukiyo · 1 year ago

Text

YOU'RE ALWAYS GONNA BE MINE

| CHAPTER ONE

a royalty au. remus lupin x princess!reader. multi-part series. series masterlist.

word count; 4,521 summary; lord sirius is visiting the castle! the princess is more than enthusiastic to see her dear friend again but brunch doesn't go quite the way she planned, and now all she wants is to disappear, to run away and leave everything behind. remus belongs nowhere-- the forest is all he has ever known.

so even in a different life, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless...

“Forgive me, your highness, but it’s time to wake up!”

She stirred in her sleep and groaned as Marlene drew the curtains away from the windows of her bedroom, sunlight spilling like an egg yolk inside the room. She squeezed her eyelids shut and dug her knuckles into them until she saw stars, arching her back off of the bed, feeling the delicious crack of her bones. “Is Lord Sirius here already?” The princess asked, her voice thick with sleep. She hoisted herself up into a sitting position, lids barely open as she found Marlene’s figure across the room, the midnight blue dress she had requested the night before draped over her arm.

“Not yet, as far as I know,” Marlene replied. “But soon. I insist, princess, you must get up now. We simply don’t have a second to waste. I’ve already drawn you a bath.” She grumbled as Marlene ripped the comforter off of her, her head lolling forward until the top of her head was flush against the mattress. “What happened to quiet, shy Marlene from last night?” The princess mumbled, hesitantly swinging her legs over the side of the bed, groaning as her feet met the floor below.

“You told me to stop acting like that, remember, princess?”

She narrowed her eyes over at Marlene where she stood by the vanity, taking stock of everything she needed. “Hmph,” she huffed as she rose to her feet, stumbling over to the restroom where Marlene had drawn her a bath already, a towel neatly folded on a stool beside it. With half a mind, she slowly stripped herself of her nightgown, stepping into the burning hot water, hissing as she slowly sunk further in until her bum hit the bottom of the tub.

“Will you wear your hair down or in an updo today?” Marlene asked as the princess scrubbed her body, her skin white as she lathered herself with soap. “Down, if you will, Marls,” she replied simply, pouring water over her head, the bubbles sliding off her flesh. Her skin smelled of olive oil and a hint of lime, her hair like sage and thyme and at last, she was done, rising from the tub.

She leaned over to grab her towel and wrap it around her body, and Marlene rushed over to the tub to take a hold of the princess’ hand, guiding her safely down to the floor. The princess willed herself to suppress her laugh as the handmaiden led her back behind the dressing screen where she slipped on her undergarments, Marlene practically shoving her into a corset.

The princess hissed as the handmaiden began to tighten and lace it, Marlene furrowing her eyebrows in apology. “So sorry princess,” she said as she laced the corset even tighter, until the seams were practically busting. The princess coughed, her teeth sinking down into the flesh of her bottom lip to help ease the discomfort. “No matter,” she sighed as Marlene grabbed the midnight blue dress draped over the top of the screen, rolling the skirt until the head was visible. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

Finally, the dress was down over her head and Marlene made quick work of tugging it down the remainder of her body, tugging at the skirt until it laid on her hips perfectly. The princess blinked down at the dress before up at Marlene as the handmaiden stepped away, eyeing the fabric for any wrinkles she may have missed.

“So?” The princess spoke up, tilting her head at Marlene. “I trust I look pretty and comfortable?” The handmaiden pressed her lips together to stifle her snicker and nodded, “as always, highness.”

Her lips curved into a grin as she followed Marlene to the vanity, sighing as she plopped down onto the stool, letting her handmaiden pull and tug at her hair and batter her face in as much makeup as she desired. As she was putting on the finishing touches to the princess’ makeup, three knocks rapped on the outside of the bedroom door and she glanced over at it from the corners of her eyes, sighing.

“Peter, no doubt,” she mumbled, “come in!”

The door swung open and, really to no one’s surprise, in came Peter, eyeing the pocket watch in his hand. “You, your highness, have approximately five minutes before your father expects you to be down in the dining hall for brunch. Unfortunately, he asked that I escort you down there today.”

She narrowed her eyes over at Peter as Marlene dabbed a little more blush to her nose and held her chin as she fought the urge to sneeze. “You always escort me, Peter,” she replied while Marlene stepped out of the way to allow her to gaze at herself in the mirror.

“Yes, and every time is more unfortunate than the last,” she watched Peter sigh and stuff his pocket watch into his coat through the mirror.

She rolled her eyes, “charming.”

She turned back to face herself in the mirror, eyeing the way her hair curled, the way the corset of her dress squeezed her waist so tight, her bosoms had no choice but to press against the neckline of her gown. Marlene clasped a golden chain around her neck and her gaze ventured down to the dark pendant resting just below the space between her collarbones. It was a gift from Lord Sirius, she recalled, from the very first day they had met only a few years before when she was the age of sixteen and Sirius eighteen. He had officially become a Lord then, and despite it being his day, still insisted the royal princess be given the necklace. The corners of her mouth twitched at the memory. “Are you alright, highness?’ Marlene asked from beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder to help stir her from her daze. The princess clasped her hand around the pendant, her pad of her thumb soothing over the obsidian as she nodded, glancing up at the handmaiden.

“Three minutes, highness,” Peter’s voice cut through the moment like a knife and her expression deflated again, turning around on the stool to face him. “Lord Sirius is waiting, may I remind you.”

Her smile was quick to return to her lips. “Well, why didn’t you say so!” The princess exclaimed, practically leaping from her seat as she ambled towards the door, grasping the handle and swinging it open. She could hear Peter call her name as she lifted her dress and jogged down the corridor, peering back over her shoulder as Peter scrambled after her, Marlene on his left. “Slow down!” Peter called after her as she made her way down the staircase, nearly losing her balance on the skirt of her gown had it not been for Marlene clutching her elbow, allowing her to stumble into the railing.

“Careful, princess!” Marlene hissed. “I didn’t spend all that time prettying you up for you to fall straight onto your face!”

She giggled and gripped the railing, walking the rest of the way down the staircase. “Sorry Marlene.”

“Sorry Mar– how about sorry Peter!” Peter hissed behind them as he finally clambered down the stairs, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. “Here I am— just doing my job! Why must you be so insolent…”

“Oh, but Peter! Were you not the one trying to rush me?” She asked as they approached the dining hall, turning around to face him, her arms crossed over her chest. “You wouldn’t want to displease mother and father now, would you?” She laced her fingers together behind her back and grinned at the Royal Advisor as he sneered, stepping past her to push open the doors to the dining hall. “Princesses,” she just caught him muttering beneath his breath before following close behind, her parents and Sirius talking ahead.

Her smile widened when Sirius turned, dark gaze swift to catch hers, his lips curling into his own grin. “Your highness!” He exclaimed as she approached, a hand behind his back as with his other, he gingerly took her hand, bowing and placing a kiss to the back of it. “Always a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Her eyes rolled at the formalities, a knowing glint in his eyes of dark obsidian when he lifted his chin. “You look beautiful. And what a pretty necklace,” he commented as she slipped her hand away from his, exhaling a laugh through her nostrils. “It was a gift from a dear friend. And you look very dashing. What shade of black are you wearing this time, Lord Sirius?” Sirius tipped his head back to laugh at this as her parents approached, her mother’s arm draped around her father’s.

“Nearly late, my dear,” the King said as she approached, rolling onto the tips of her toes to press a kiss to her father’s cheek. She furrowed her brow, “not quite. Peter made sure I was right on time, isn’t that right?” She turned towards where Peter stood to the side of the hall, his lips twisted in a tight-lipped grin to mask the sneer twitching at his lips. “Of course, highness,” he bowed his head, an eyelid narrowing in spite of the princess.

“Yes, well, I do suppose you’re hungry then? I’ve had Tobias make our famous meat stew for us today,” the Queen gestured towards the grand dining table, following close behind her husband as they circled around the table, finding their seats. Sirius stepped aside to allow the princess before him and her face illuminated with a soft grin as she ambled past, the Lord close behind. Before she could settle herself in her seat beside her father, Sirius reached out and closed his hand around the back of her chair, bowing his head when she turned to face him.

“Allow me, your highness,” he insisted and when she cocked an eyebrow at him, he flashed an eyelid in a wink, the corners of his lips twitching in an amused grin. She rolled her eyes as she bowed her head, murmuring her gratitude, voice laced in sarcasm. They both settled themselves in their seats as the royal house elves began placing down plates and silverware whilst she folded a handkerchief in her lap. An elf poured red wine in her father’s goblet and the King eyed Lord Sirius from over the rim of the cup.

“Lord Sirius, tell me,” her father began as a house elf placed a bowl of meat stew before her. “How is the trade?”

She deflated at the topic of discussion, glancing over at Sirius as he spoke to her father. It had been awhile since she last saw him, a few months, at least. He hadn’t changed much, perhaps other than his raven black hair must have gotten longer. But when she looked closer, he seemed… tired, evident from the faint but somewhat visible circles beneath his eyes. It certainly didn’t take any away from his charming glow, no, he was still, in fact, as handsome as ever. Perhaps he just had a rough night, she thought to herself. Perhaps it was best not to ask.

Sirius must’ve felt her gaze on his pale skin, for he took almost every chance he could get to sneak glances her way, his lips twitching in levity as he listened to the King rant on and on about trade and merchants and whatnot. Quite frankly, she couldn’t find it within herself to care about anything her father said– she missed her friend, she missed Sirius. She was absolutely itching to finally get to talk to him again.

A silence fell over the table for a fleeting moment and she turned away from Sirius to face her parents, her mother’s hand on her father’s arm, their lips unmoving but their connected gaze communicating every unspoken word. She furrowed her brow at this, wiping her lips with her handkerchief, her heart suddenly lurching in her chest. If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that silence was never good.

“Should we tell him, dear?” Her mother finally murmured close to her father’s ear and somehow, she seemed to already know the direction the conversation was about to take. The King shifted in his seat and set his goblet back down onto the table, a soft grin on his lips as he looked from his daughter back to Sirius.

“Lord Sirius, it is to my understanding that you have met King Fleamont and his son James, yes?” Her father inquired, cocking an eyebrow as he awaited a response. Suddenly, she didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. Her gaze fell to her lap and as Sirius shifted in his seat, she snuck a glimpse over to the man beside her. “Yes, your majesty,” Sirius replied, a brow raised quizzically. “Tell me, what do you make of them?” The King asked and she shuddered in her seat, her skin feeling hot like wax.

Why would he bring her betrothal up now of all times?

A silence loomed once again as Sirius pondered his reply, his tongue swiping over his teeth as he eyed the bowl of near empty stew before him. He could sense the princess’ sudden discomfort but alas, as much as he wanted to change the subject for his dear friend’s sake, he and she both knew it would do neither of them well to ignore the King.

“They’re good people,” he finally replied, nodding his head. “Wealthy. Powerful.”

This seemed to please her father and she fiddled with her fingers in her lap as he hummed, leaning back in his seat. “It pleases me to hear that,” he replied, Sirius’ addled expression certainly not going unnoticed. “I ask you this, Lord Sirius, because your family has been dear friends to ours for generations, and I do believe in your better judgment.”

Sirius nodded along, still somewhat confused but silent, anxiously waiting for the King to continue. The princess’ heart was thundering in her ears now and her chest burned, as if she’d been kissed by flames. She really did not like where the conversation was going now.

“I’ve accepted King Fleamont’s proposal to wed the princess to Prince James, you see.”

She exhaled the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding in, suddenly feeling the meat stew and wine bubbling in acid at her throat. She felt like she’d been set aflame, like she was the lava oozing over the mouth of a volcano. She wanted to move, she wanted to leave, she wanted to run.

But her legs wouldn’t move. She was frozen, glued, stuck to her seat.

Sirius tried to mask his surprise, sneaking a swift glance down to the princess, able to sense her nerves just by the way she breathed, the way she seemed frozen still.

“You’ve… accepted, already?” Sirius stammered out, clearing his throat and hoping to play his apprehension off. He looked between the King and the Queen as they both shared glances, their daughter’s behavior certainly not going unnoticed yet, neither of them made any move to comfort her. It made Sirius almost tremble in anger— he knew better than to think they’d care for her, this was technically her destiny, after all.

But was it fair? Sirius wasn’t so sure.

“Yes, the prince should be arriving in two to three days’ time,” the King continued, scooping his goblet back up in his hand, taking a swig of wine. “He‘ll be staying in the castle for a few weeks and I do hope you’re able to stop by every so often, I’m sure he could use a friend, someone he already knows.”

He was speaking as if she weren’t there, as if her mind wasn’t feeling, her heart drumming so fast she’d fear it was prone to explode at any given moment. Of course she’d heard of her betrothal in passing but to hear it now, to hear her parents speak of it so casually, to think that they have made their own decision without having so much as a word with her… she wished she could disappear, she wished she could be anywhere but here.

She turned her head, glancing over at Sirius as he cleared his throat, catching her gaze for a brief moment before turning to acknowledge the King once again. He pressed his lips together and hummed, “of course, your majesty,” he replied. “Also, I think you ought to know, I recall the prince particularly fancying lamb.”

He was trying to change the subject, for the princess’ sake, of course. Fortunately, the Queen took the bait and began interrogating him over everything the prince fancies or doesn’t fancy or what he thinks the prince might come to fancy, meanwhile the princess was still trying to anchor herself down to the conversation at hand. She was doing her best to make it seem like she was there even if she was, in fact, not. The dining hall seemed to fade away, her mother, her father, Peter, Marlene, Sirius, everyone along with it. Sirius’ attempt at changing the topic of discussion became nothing more than a mere background murmur, her vision blurring to watercolor.

All she wanted was for brunch to be over, to speak to Sirius and Sirius alone. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could take sitting here, having marriage beat into her head before her tears slipped down her cheeks, ruining the makeup she knew Marlene worked so hard on. She couldn’t take one of her mother’s lectures either about how princesses shouldn’t cry, how she was ridiculous and stupid for being so upset over marriage. How she should feel proud, honored that such a well-off, handsome young prince was her betrothed.

All she wished to do now was curl into a ball, even willing the very chair she sat on to absorb her until she was nothing. Disappearing was better than having to exist in a world that has already written her destiny for her, she supposed.

The princess sniffled as the King and Queen rose from their seats, turning to speak to Tobias, one of the many royal house elves and the main chef. Sirius was swift to seize the moment, reaching for her hand beneath the table and sliding his fingers into her closed fist, the pad of his thumb soothing over her skin.

“Are you alright?” He asked in a soft murmur and she pressed her lips together, willing her weeping to remain lodged in her throat, her body trembling with the effort. She couldn’t reply, for if she opened her lips, she would most certainly break into a fit of loud, violent sobs. So, instead, her tears fell silently in river streams down her cheeks, her head shaking in response.

Sirius glanced up to where the King and Queen stood with Tobias and Peter, their backs all turned to the two who remained at the table. Marlene was standing off in the corner of the room, trying to make it seem like she wasn’t watching the Lord and the princess. Sirius wouldn’t have minded if she was— all he cared about was his dear friend. His free arm wrapped itself around her shoulders and pulled her quivering body against him, briefly maneuvering his hand out of hers to wipe at her tears with the back of his knuckles.

“There, there,” he whispered as he let her squeeze his hand again, inhaling deep through her nose, doing her best to gather her composure.

“I can’t do this, Sirius,” she hardly managed to whimper, her lips trembling. “I don’t… I don’t want this.”

His hand gripped her shoulder as she sniffed again, dabbing at her under eyes with her handkerchief, praying to whoever it was above that she still looked presentable. Sirius pulled away when the King turned to address him again and the princess blinked away all the tears she could as she rose from her seat, standing beside him.

Marlene rushed towards the princess as Sirius quickly divided the King and Queen’s attention away from their daughter, an arm wrapped around her shoulders where Sirius’ had been, using her handkerchief to dab at the smeared makeup on her cheeks. “Your highness…” she murmured, the princess sniffing, furiously rubbing at her tear-stained cheeks.

“This isn’t going to happen, Marls,” she whispered. “I won’t let it.”

Remus’ bones cracked and ached as he stirred awake, a soft grunt slipping between his lips and his eyelids squeezed together, the sunlight pouring inside the room straining his eyes. It was well past morning— that much Remus could gather, which wasn’t uncommon after waking up from a night of great pain.

He laid there for a number staring up at the ceiling, wishing he could lie around in bed all day, wallowing in his own pity. But his father would be wondering where he was, he supposed, and he never wanted to seem like he was intruding on Sirius or taking advantage of his friend.

So, despite his creaking bones and aching limbs, he pushed his way onto his elbows, hissing through his teeth as he managed himself up into a sitting position. He paused for a moment to gather himself, blinking the rest of the sleep away from his eyes while his mouth parted in a yawn. He rolled his neck as he swung his throbbing legs over the side of the mattress, stumbling onto his feet and tidying the bed to the best of his ability.

He strode up to the mirror on the opposite side of the room, running his fingers through the wild mess of unkempt brown locks atop his head, his mind still a foggy haze from sleep. He didn’t loiter much longer, staying long enough to fix his coat back on his shoulders, pawing at the sleeves as he crept his way down the steps of the home and towards the back door. He’d grown used to this routine, Sirius’ house always his haven when he had transformation-related pain, never wanting to burden his father more than he already had.

The sun gleamed down at him as Remus stepped out onto the street, its light kissing his skin and making his eyes narrow. He breathed the autumn chill in, his lungs full of crisp air and burning like tree bark. His house was on the other side of the village— the poor side, to put it bluntly, of course. Before meeting Sirius— which was completely by chance, for the record— Remus never dared set foot on this side of town, never dared even look at this part of the village. He was bitter then and admittedly, still bitter now. How could some be so well off and comfortable when there were others hardly getting by, hardly even living at all?

He assumed all people of wealth were snobs, that they sneered at the mere thought of the less fortunate ones. Which was why it came as a total shock when he met Sirius to learn that he was a Lord, one of the wealthiest in the village, in fact, and that he was so close to the royal family. It would’ve been enough to make Remus wrinkle his nose in disgust and wish to never see him again— which was why he was so surprised when he realized that he didn’t push Sirius away.

Remus huffed as he turned down his street, his dingy, little house one of the many on the poor, beaten-down road. He passed by many of his neighbors, sparing them not even so much as a glance as he padded up to his front door— which was leaning to the side and falling off its hinges. Carefully, he twisted the knob and pushed open the wooden door, its creak permeating the small room he had no other choice but to call home.

“Remus?” A low, husky voice called from the other side of the room where Lyall Lupin sat in a rickety old wooden rocking chair, his fingernails burrowing further in the divets they’d already created in the arm rests. “Is that you?”

“Yes, father,” Remus replied as the door slammed shut behind him, its bang loud and scattering dust. “Where have you been?” Lyall questioned as Remus shuffled his feet towards the paper thin mattress he called a bed, its size not nearly big enough to hold his long legs. “You didn’t come home at all last night.”

Remus cupped a hand on the back of his neck and rolled his head, lips falling agape in a soft sigh at the delicious crack of his bones. “I’m fine, dad,” he responded, reaching for his knapsack tucked away in the corner behind his bed. “I was just out… thinking.”

Of course his father appeared skeptical of this, his mustache twitching as he twisted his lips and narrowed his eyes over at his son. “You’re not hurting again, are you?” Lyall asked. “The full moon isn’t for another couple of weeks, you shouldn’t be—“

“I said I’m fine, dad!” Remus’ voice thundered and shook the walls of their home and he sighed, dropping his head as he shouldered his oversized coat back onto his frame. “I’m not a child anymore, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Lyall’s teeth chewed at the inside of his lip as he pondered what to say next, his tongue twisting in his mouth. “You are my son, Remus. My duty as your father is to worry about you,” he began. “Your mother— your mother, she… she—“

Remus was like the frayed end of a rope as a flame rolled down the length, at the end of his limit and ready to pop. He wasn’t sure if it was his transformation pushing him to his limit or if he was just tired, but all he knew was that he couldn’t take it anymore, squeezing his eyelids shut before turning on his father, skin hot and blaring with frustration.

“Mum’s not here anymore, dad! When will you open your eyes and see that?” He practically roared, the walls shaking with the aftershocks of his fervor and Lyall’s lips snapped back closed. His father’s lids were blown wide, his fingers were rolled into his palms, his bottom lip was quivering, and his chest was heaving with his irregular breathing— in Remus’ eyes, this was fear.

His father was afraid of him.

And once again, Remus was reminded of how much of a burden he was to everyone he knew.

Neither Remus nor Lyall said anything more as the former turned on his heels to make his way back towards the creaking door, a shaking hand tugging it wide open and letting it fall shut behind him as he stepped back out onto the street, uncaring if it fell straight off its hinges. He couldn’t be here, not at his home, not in this village, anywhere. He needed to be alone— so he went to the only place he knew.

Remus maneuvered his way between crumbling buildings and withered handcarts as he ventured further into the outskirts of town where the forest outstretched its arms at the sight of him, welcoming him into its embrace.

a/n; i'm sorry the first chapter was rather uneventful but i can say with certainty that the next chapter will be where all the fun begins :) i still hope you were able to enjoy chapter one and i thank you all for your support on the prologue, it makes me so happy to see you guys already feeling hype for this story! i certainly hope i won't let you down :) and remember to fill out the taglist form in my pinned post if you'd like to be added to this series' taglist!

TAGLIST !!

@cancelledkaley

@burns-in-the-sun

🫶✨

#remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin au #remus lupin royalty au #sirius black #james potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter imagine #harry potter #pasukiyo #marauders #marauders era

91 notes · View notes

strawberrybasilsorbet · 3 months ago

Text

Jilytober Day 6

Had some time this evening to work on another Jilytober fic! (Edit: Oops, forgot to tag! @jilytoberfest ). Hoping to go back and catch up on the days I missed, but in the meantime, here's my try at today's prompt:

October 6th: Making food together / food disasters

Clearly, something had gone wrong.

James furrowed his brow, staring at the chunks of apple and squash that he'd painstakingly peeled and cubed — by hand! — before dumping them into the tall Muggle goblet. Maybe he'd made a mistake with the plugs?

Around him, the kitchen hummed with the soft crooning of a record player and the clinking of pots and pans. The aroma of thyme, sage and cinnamon filled the air, suffusing the space with the unmistakable scents of Christmas Eve.

Lily and her mother were chatting about a neighbor's upcoming baby shower, occasionally pausing to check a recipe book or put a dish into the oven. James glanced over to make sure that neither of them had yet noticed his mistake, then turned back to the eclectic goblet on the countertop.

He double-checked the plug. It sat in the wall, exactly as Lily had shown him. He looked once more at the switch on the back of the device. It was pointed toward the word "On."

Wasn't something supposed to be happening?

James yanked the plug out of the wall and flicked the "On/Off" switch again. No change. He removed the tight-fitting lid from atop the goblet and peered inside, trying to see if anything stirred. He could see the circle of blades at the bottom, but they didn't move.

There was nothing else for it.

"Um, excuse me. Mrs. Evans?"

"What is it, dear?" asked Lily's mother, looking up from where she had begun to measure out a cup of sugar.

James thought back to his fifth year Muggle Studies vocabulary exams, trying to remember the proper phrasing. "I think that your power might be out," he said.

Lily looked up, and she and her mother exchanged a glance, confused. James cringed internally at the awkward moment. He must have gotten it wrong. "I mean, I think there's something wrong with your eckletricity," he corrected hastily. He gestured at the goblet. "It isn't working."

Mrs. Evans still looked wrongfooted, but Lily smirked. "Having trouble with the blender?"

Even as embarrassed as he felt, James couldn't help but return her smile. "Yeah, seems like it," he replied.

"Did you plug it in?"

"Yes."

"Did you turn it on?"

"Yes!"

"Did you hit the button?"

James paused. "The button?"

"In the front." Lily giggled as James turned back to the device, examining the raised knobs on the base. He always forgot about Muggle buttons, which looked nothing at all like normal buttons, the sort one might use to fasten a cloak. "You have to press the button to make it start, James."

"Right," said James. He looked over at Mrs. Evans and ran a hand through his hair, trying to project confidence. "I know about buttons," he told her. "We covered them in school, I just forgot. I'll get it started now—"

"No, wait! The lid—"

But before James could react to Lily's warning, he had already pressed the fateful button that began the eclectic spell. With a horribly loud whirring sound, the blades at the bottom of the machine came to life, turning with a speed that made the goblet shake. In moments, it had sent chunks of apple and squash soaring through the kitchen — and splashed the chicken stock directly into James's face.

Without thinking, James grabbed his wand from his pocket and cast a Body-Bind curse on the machine. He'd mostly done this on impulse — he hadn't been at all certain that it would work — but the machine froze, salvaging most of the ingredients inside. He flicked the switch to "Off," then removed the curse.

James turned sheepishly back toward Mrs. Evans, who looked as if she were caught between amusement and disbelief. After a moment, amusement won out, and she laughed warmly before handing James a towel from a drawer.

"That's alright, James, dear," she said. "Why don't I take over the soup for now, and you stir up the batter for the pudding?" James nodded, switching places with Mrs. Evans to join Lily at the table. He wiped the stock from his face. "Can you double-check the roast, love?" Mrs. Evans asked her daughter, grabbing some more apples to replace what had been lost. Lily nodded and turned to the oven.

Putting the towel aside, James picked up a wooden spoon to work on the pudding. He hoped his face wasn't too red.

Gripping the spoon awkwardly in his hand, he began to mix the sugar, chopped cranberries, flour and molasses together in wide circles. This was only his second time meeting Lily's parents —the first had been on the train platform as they arrived home for the holidays — and his first time visiting a Muggle house. He'd been so proud to be invited to Christmas Eve dinner, and when he'd offered to help, he'd been hoping to show the Evanses that he could fit in — to make a good impression. But the sheer number of strange devices and loud sounds to remember had overwhelmed him, made it difficult to keep Lily's instructions fixed in his head. He hadn't meant to use magic. Not, James grumbled internally, that he'd been doing so well without it...

James's spiraling thoughts were interrupted by a warm hand taking his own. His heart stuttered. "Hold the spoon like this," Lily said, stepping in to rearrange his grip. "Like a wand. You'll have more control, and you'll be able to whip the batter faster."

James could think of nothing but the warmth of Lily's hands over his own. She stood so close that he could have counted her freckles without his glasses.

The sudden din of eckletricity made him jump. Mrs. Evans had managed to fix the issue with the eclectric goblet (The blender, Lily had said? Or was he thinking of a fender?). After a few moments, the apples and squash were pulverized into a thick, liquid mixture. It looked as though the soup was saved.

"There," Mrs. Evans said with satisfaction, turning back toward Lily and James at the table. Her lips quirked upward, and Lily took a quick step back.

"I was just showing James how to hold the spoon, Mum," Lily said, reddening. "He doesn't mix batter often, since wizard families usually use spells for cooking..."

Mrs. Evans, who had looked skeptical of her daughter's excuses, turned toward James with interest. "Really?"

James nodded. "Oh, yeah, we always use magic to cook at my house."

"Well, isn't that the most exciting thing!" She looked impressed. "Could you show me?"

"He can! He's seventeen, too!" said Lily eagerly. That was right — she'd said that her mum was interested in magic. It was her sister that was the problem...

James ran his hand through his hair, which (to his embarrassment) was still wet with chicken stock. Lily's mother was watching him expectantly. This was his opportunity to make up for his earlier fumbling, James thought, drawing his wand. He tried to remember the spell for stirring. He'd seen the wand movement so many times...

The cranberry batter exploded in his face.

The kitchen was silent. James blinked, covered in food for the second time in a row. "Um. Usually my mum does it."

Mrs. Evans burst into loud guffaws, and suddenly, James felt lighter than he'd been all afternoon. "Of course she does," Mrs. Evans said. "Nothing new under the sun. Let me grab you a towel to clean up, dear..."

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Evans," James said. As she bustled from the kitchen, he turned back toward the table, wondering if he should measure out ingredients for a second batch.

As Mrs. Evans footsteps grew quieter on the stairs, Lily stepped close to James once more. "Very smooth," she whispered in his ear. In a quick movement, she licked some of pudding batter from his cheek and kissed the skin underneath. James blushed.

Lily walked back to her side of the table, eyeing James with mock thoughtfulness. Cranberry juice and molasses stained her mouth like lipstick. "The batter's okay," she said, grinning. "Let's add more sugar this time."

#jilytober2024 #31prompts #prompt 6 #james potter #lily evans #jily #hp fanfic

16 notes · View notes