#pharmakis

[crazycatsiren]

What I do need to use more in my magic work is ginger. If you were to ask my grandmother what she would use to chase away the Devil, ginger might be at the top of her list.

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter six.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: w.i.t.c.h. - devon cole

author's note: some cute soft fluff cause i'm in a tender mood.

In all your years at Hogwarts, you could count the amount of times you’ve attended a quidditch game on one hand and you wouldn't even need to utilize all of your fingers. Needless to say, you weren’t really into the rowdiness and belligerence of sporting events, but a bargain was a bargain. You were just glad to have Luna with you. Even if it meant enduring Pansy Parkinson’s presence. 

“Be nice,” Luna warned as you approached the stands. 

“I won’t bite if she doesn’t,” you murmured back. 

Luna nodded, knowing that it was the closest thing to an agreement she was ever going to get out of you. Despite your surliness, your friend seemed to brighten the minute she spotted Pansy. In a sea of blue and gold, the dark haired witch was the only one clad in green and silver. Your housemates kept exchanging wary glances at the Slytherin in their midst, but they were wise enough to keep their mouths shut. 

You watched quietly as Pansy and Luna exchanged pleasantries. While your friend was generally a bubbly person, she seemed extra giddy as she spoke. There was something about the way that she softened that convinced you to ease up on the scowls. It must have been contagious, because Pansy actually smiled and it wasn’t a derisive sneer or a smug smirk, but a genuine smile. You didn’t even know the witch was capable of it. 

Finally, she seemed to take stock of your presence. The dark haired girl jutted her chin out proudly, her aristocratic features schooled into forced neutrality. It occurred to you that Pansy probably received a similar warning to attempt decency. 

“Y/N,” she said. 

“Pansy,” you replied. 

The two of you eyed each other. Sizing up your opponent. The eagle versus the snake, claws against teeth. The staredown was purely psychological warfare. 

You squinted. Hurt her and I’ll maim you. 

The silent warning didn’t seem to offend Pansy. Instead, she gave a subtle nod of her chin and made way for you and Luna to sit. You settled in, trying not to peer down at the drop. Heights had never really been your thing. 

Pansy observed you curiously as Luna patted your arm. “Y/N’s not a big fan of heights.” 

“Oh?” Parkinson asked. 

“I generally prefer solid ground. It reduces the chances of me falling and breaking my neck.” The corner of Pansy’s mouth quirked. “What about you, Parkinson? Are you keen on flying?” 

“A bit.” 

Luna brightened. “She’s being modest. Pansy here is a very talented flyer. She’s got an Abraxan named Circe.”

“The most powerful witch to ever live,” you noted. “She used to turn men into swine.” 

“A lost art, really.” 

You smirked. “The classic femme fatale. A personification of the dangers of femininity. They always paint powerful women in a terrible light, don’t they?” 

“Perhaps it makes the men feel better about their own inadequacies.” 

“We’re always making men feel better about their inadequacies,” you answered thoughtfully. “Convenient that the myths fail to mention that Circe was one of the first pharmakis. Modern magic would not be what it is without her extensive knowledge of herbs and plants and yet she’s rarely credited in any potions books we read.”

Pansy nodded, eyeing you in amusement. “I can see why Nott has taken a liking to you.” 

You turned to Luna who immediately shook her head. Pansy laughed. “Don’t worry, Lovegood didn’t tell me a thing. She didn’t have to. Theodore never stops talking about you, you know.” 

There was no hiding the flush that crept up to your cheeks. “We’re both vying for the top spot in Slughorn’s class. I assume he has a lot to say about his competition.” 

“It’s more than that,” Pansy said. “I’ve known Theodore since birth and I’ve never seen him put this much effort into anything. He’s always been naturally talented at potions, given his mum’s background, but you challenge him. For the first time in a long time, he’s found someone who’s actually up to par. I, for one, enjoy watching you put him in his place.” 

You smiled. “I quite enjoy it too.” 

Luna looked at you, then at Pansy before a huge grin graced her lips. It was obvious that she was pleased at the sight of her best friend and her…potential more-than-friend getting along.

The game started not long after. Your comprehension of the rules were rudimentary at best, but Luna made sure to explain as best as she could. From what you gathered, there were four positions: seeker, beater, chaser, and keeper. The chasers attempted to score as many goals as they could by throwing the quaffle through the posts, which the keepers guarded. The beaters used the bludgers to disrupt the other players. The seeker, on the other hand, needed to catch the golden snitch. All while floating on a broom hundreds of feet in the air. 

This match, Pansy explained, had been anticipated to be the most brutal of the season. The enmity between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins translated very clearly on the field. While there had always been a divide of support between the other houses, you could tell that the majority of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stands were cheering for the Gryffindors. 

You wondered how that made the Slytherins feel. Three houses against one. After the war, Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic droned on and on about the importance of unity and reconciliation. Professor Slughorn even delivered a speech during your first potions class, but the disparity between words and actions were painfully obvious. 

The rest of the school still mistrusted the Slytherins. If any of them cared, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. Especially not as they played. The quidditch team was deadly. You watched as green and silver robes whizzed past, familiar names sprawled on the jerseys. Malfoy, Zabini, Riddle, Berkshire, Warrington, Rosier, and Nott. 

Theo winked as he flew past your portion of the stands. You rolled your eyes, but held your breath as he careened towards one of the goal posts. Ron Weasley stood guard, squinting suspiciously at Theo. The flash of the quaffle was too fast for your eyes to follow, but it sliced the air all the same, slipping through an opening above Ron’s shoulder. The redhead cursed as Theo gave him a mocking bow. 

Pansy was the lone witch in your section to cheer for the Slytherins. Luna joined her in solidarity when the crowd grew quiet. Suspicious glances were cast in your direction, which you rebuffed with a menacing glare. They all found something else to look at rather quickly. 

Displeasure rippled over the crowd as the Slytherins kept scoring. Theo was an unstoppable force. Warrington and Riddle flanked him at each side, throwing bludgers at anyone who attempted to thwart his efforts. The other two chasers, Berkshire and Zabini, circled around them in an aerial formation that confused the opposing team. The Gryffindors grew increasingly frustrated when Evangeline Rosier kept rebuffing their attempts to score. 

Both teams played well, but the Slytherins were ruthless, tactical, and efficient. They used the opposing team’s weaknesses against them. The Gryffindors tended to be over reactive and Theo used it to his advantage. He baited them into making rash plays, which left openings for him and the other chasers to exploit. 

By the end of the game, it was Berkshire who scored the winning goal. The discrepancy between the cheers and booing was insurmountable, but Pansy didn’t seem to care. She cheered for the team louder than anyone. As the win was formally announced, you heard murmurs coming from below you. 

“Stupid Death Eater bitch.” 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Pansy tense. Luna’s mouth hung agape as she wheeled around to identify the foul mouthed culprit. You were quicker. 

“What did you just say?” you asked in a deathly quiet voice.

The conversations around you stopped as you faced Romilda Vane. The smug faced witch crossed her arms, her scarlet and gold scarf billowing in the wind as she looked up at the three of you. 

“You heard me,” Romilda said in a haughty voice. “Her father was one of the Dark Lord’s staunchest supporters. As were the Malfoys and Notts. Not to mention Riddle. How he was allowed back at school is a mystery to me. They should all be in Azkaban.” 

Your ears began to ring. The crowd parted as you descended the bleachers, bringing you face to face with Romilda. “I wasn’t aware that you’d recently earned a place in the Wizengamot. For all your prattling, you’d think you were the Chief Warlock.” 

She cowered under your glare, but doubled down as she looked towards her friends. “I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking. As far as I’m concerned, the Slytherins should be punished for their crimes.” 

“I hardly think you’re speaking from any moral high ground, Romilda. Didn’t you try to dose Potter with Amortentia in sixth year?”

Romilda reddened as she sputtered nonsense. The students around you snickered, but all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears. You clenched your fists so tightly that your nails dug painfully into your palms. If you hadn’t, you might’ve punched that stupid smirk right off of her face. 

But you knew that physical violence was not the answer. There were far more strategic ways to land a blow and you were an expert in this type of warfare. 

“I suppose Harry’s lucky that your potion making is about as incompetent as your critical thinking skills. Now move before I make you.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing getting tangled up with all those snakes. They’ll sink their teeth into your back the second you turn it.” 

“One of them is worth ten of you. At least the Slytherins fought to defend the castle instead of running off like a coward. They may have teeth, but at least they know how to use them. You’re all roar and no bite.” 

“You’re a bitch, Y/N.” 

You reared back, baring your teeth. “Oh you have no idea, Vane. But I’d be glad to demonstrate.” 

Romilda held her ground. For a split second, you weighed the consequences of harming a fellow student versus the satisfaction of pummeling Romilda to the ground. Luckily for the idiotic Gryffindor, Luna gently gripped you by the elbow. 

“It’s not worth it, Y/N.” 

You looked at your friend who wore an expression of concern. Beside her, Pansy didn’t say a word. She was utterly silent, almost resigned like she encountered this treatment on a daily basis. We all pay the price, Theo had said. 

Without another word, you nodded and bulldozed through Romilda as you exited the stands. It was only when the three of you reached the ground when you finally realized that you were shaking from anger. 

“Are you alright, Pans?” Luna asked, clasping Parkinson’s hand. 

Pansy shrugged. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, Luna. If I let the opinion of an airheaded twat affect my day, I’d never have a good one again.” 

“Are you sure—” Luna fretted. 

Pansy smiled gently and squeezed her hand in assurance. “Truly, I’m alright. The only thing upsetting me at the moment is that I’ve left my scarf up there running from those hags. Would you mind getting it for me, Lu?” 

Your friend still looked worried, but she nodded and made the trek back up. You and Pansy stood in silence, watching as the last of the crowd trickled out of the stands. 

“Vane had no right to say that,” you said. It came out harsher than you expected. 

“At least she had the gall to say it to my face,” Parkinson stated with a shrug. “I don’t know if that makes her brave or stupid.” 

“Gryffindors often have trouble making the distinction.” 

The dark haired witch laughed. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. As moronic as she is, Vane is right. She was only voicing the opinion of the masses."

“But you fought in the final battle. I saw you rallying the others against the Death Eaters. Romilda wasn’t even there. She didn’t even fight.”

Pansy sighed. “A lot of good that did. I had to watch my friends duel against their own parents and yet this entire school still mistrusts us. I suppose I can’t blame them. The majority of the Dark Lord’s followers were produced by our house.”

“Not all Slytherins are bad. The world isn’t so black and white,” you said adamantly. “Most of us operate in the gray areas, whether we admit it or not. The only difference is that you lot don’t try to hide it.” 

“Yes, but a snake is a snake. Even when we shed our skin, they still see deception when they look at us.” 

“And you’re willing to just accept that?” 

Parkinson gave you a pointed look. What choice did she have? What choice did any of them have? 

After a beat of silence, you cleared your throat. “Are you sure you’re alright? Luna’s worried.” 

“I assure you, being villainized isn’t anything new to me. I suppose that’s why I named my horse after Circe," Pansy mused thoughtfully. "It’s better for them to believe that I’m some sort of evil sorceress than to realize that I am more shackled by my circumstances than I could ever be at Azkaban. My family name is a collar around my neck, waiting to choke me at any moment, but they’re so blinded by their own misconceptions that all they see are my teeth. I prefer it that way.”

“Oderint dum metuant.”

"Let them hate, as long as they fear." A faint smile bloomed on Pansy’s lips. "That’s awfully Slytherin of you to say. Are you sure you’re in the right house, Y/N?”

You chuckled. A beat of silence followed as understanding passed between you. Perhaps you had more in common with Pansy Parkinson than you thought. 

When Luna returned, the two of them tried to convince you to join them at the common room party, but you declined. You weren’t really in the mood to be around people. 

“You two go ahead. I’ll catch up later.” 

As the sun set over the school grounds, you found yourself at the Black Lake. Dusk tinged the horizon with pink and purple and the fluffy white clouds hung low enough to kiss the dark water. You settled at the end of the dock and dipped your toes into the lake, watching as the motion made ripples across the surface. Maybe it was unwise to linger here given that the lake was home to the merpeople and the giant squid, but they would be far in the depths and you were honestly too knackered to care. 

Sighing, you pulled out a silver flask from your robes. You had initially brought it for the after party, but it would’ve been a shame to let the firewhisky go to waste. 

“Illegal contraband?” A familiar voice teased just as the wood gave way beside you. Theo bumped his shoulder against yours as he sat. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well maybe your idiotic tendencies are rubbing off on me.” 

“I’d like to rub more than just my tendencies on you.” 

You rolled your eyes and handed him the flask. “Just fucking drink, Theodore.” 

He grinned before taking a swig. You chuckled at the face he made from the burn of the Ogden’s. “That is straight up liquor," Theo remarked through his coughing fit. "You're out of control, diavolina. Should I be concerned?”

“We’re celebrating,” you said. “At least you should be. That was quite a win out there. I didn’t expect you to be so….efficient.” 

“Careful, Y/N. That was almost a compliment.” 

You shrugged. “To be fair, I haven’t been to a game in years. You could’ve been absolutely rubbish and I’d still think it was a feat that you managed to stay seated on that broom.” 

“Well, it is a pretty important component of quidditch. Did you at least attempt to enjoy yourself?” 

“It was a brutal game. There’s a lot more strategy and planning that goes into quidditch than I initially thought. It’s like chess, but you’re allowed to hit people. I had a blast.” 

Theo chuckled. “I should’ve known you’d get a kick out of all that violence.” 

Warmth spread through your body as you took another swig. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating your win at the party?” 

His fingers brushed yours as you handed the flask back to him. “I’m where I want to be.” 

This time, you weren’t sure if it was the firewhisky or Theo’s presence making you flush. The two of you kept drinking in silence as you peered up at the sky. Back home in London, you never would’ve been able to see the stars this clearly. They glittered in the night sky like tiny diamonds etched through the darkness. 

“I heard about what happened earlier,” Theo said after a moment. 

You weren’t surprised. Word traveled fast around this school. “Luna told you?” 

“No. Pansy did.” He shifted, turning over to look at you. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you did too. “You did a good thing, Y/N. You stood up for Pansy. I can’t thank you enough.” 

“I was only doing what anyone else would’ve done.” 

“No. You weren’t.” Theo set the flask down. “No one else would’ve come to her defense. Pansy, she’s the strongest one out of all of us. Draco, Mattheo, and I, we can always resort to punches when we’re insulted, but Pansy doesn’t have that option. She just has to sit there and take it. It means a lot that someone spoke up for her.”

“I did the bare minimum.”

“It still meant a lot.” 

“There’s no need to thank me for—”

Theo sighed in exasperation. “For Salazar’s sake, will you just take my gratitude without arguing?”

You bit back a smile. “Fine. I acknowledge your gratitude.” 

You downed the rest of the flask as Theo lit a cigarette. The flame from that curious Zippo flickered in the darkness as smoke filled the air.

“So,” Theo started, taking a deep inhale. “Are you ready for the slug club dinner next week? I’m not even invited to the bloody thing and yet I still know every detail thanks to McLaggen’s incessant prattling. What a twat.” 

“Cormac is kind of a twat, isn’t he?” you asked, giggling as the alcohol started taking its effect. “I heard that he kisses like a fork tongued lizard.” 

Theo’s eyes flashed. “You better not know that firsthand.” 

You wrinkled your nose. “I wouldn’t go near McLaggen’s mouth with a ten foot broom.” 

“Good. I can rest easy that you won’t be replacing me with a reptilian snogger.”

“You can rest easy either way. I’m not going to that dinner.” 

Theo paused, the cigarette hanging haphazardly from between his lips. “What do you mean you’re not going?” 

“It’s a pretty straightforward sentence, Nott. I will not be attending Professor Slughorn’s ridiculous dinner.” 

“You have to go,” he declared firmly. 

“I’m confused. Do you want me to snog the lizard or not?” 

Theo frowned. “Do not snog McLaggen unless you want me to turn him into an actual reptile.” He exhaled and smoke curled around his lips. “You can’t miss that dinner.”

“I have no interest in attending.” 

He stared at you, his gaze fixed with determination. “Is this about what Slughorn said the other day?” 

You picked at your fingers, avoiding his eyes. “It’s probably going to be boring, anyways. Just a pissing contest for us to compare our grades and achievements like we’re puppets on a string.” 

“You should still go.” 

“Why?” you asked, a bit irritated that Theo was pushing for this so hard. You would’ve thought that he of all people would understand your choice. “Why would I subject myself to be part of something that judges people based on prejudice rather than merit?”

Theo’s expression softened. “Because it’ll raise your chances of joining the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. That’s your dream, isn’t it?”

You reeled back in surprise. “How do you know about that?” 

He rolled his eyes. “You only talk about it a thousand times a day.” Theo raised his brow in challenge. “Slughorn’s one of the most influential members. If you go to the dinner, it might solidify a formal invitation.” 

Theo was right. You didn’t want him to be, but he was right. Under any other circumstance, you would’ve sabotaged and plotted and schemed for a way in. This was an opportunity to distinguish yourself from your fellow classmates, so why were you hesitating?

You knew why. You were looking right at him.

“I’ll drag you there myself if I have to,” Theo declared. 

You sighed. There was no way he was going to let this go. “Fine, I’ll think about it.” 

Theo smiled triumphantly. You kicked at the water, sending a wave across the still lake. “You know, if Slughorn knew that you were a Marchesi, he’d probably fall all over himself to recruit you. Hell, anyone would. You’re practically guaranteed a place at the Society, too.”

Theo shrugged nonchalantly. “Where would the fun be in that?” 

“I’m serious, Nott. It could open up doors for you.”

He sighed. “That’s exactly why I’ve kept the knowledge to myself. I’m tired of everyone judging me based on my family, good or bad. I want to accomplish something that’s solely mine. Not Nott, not Marchesi. Just Theo.”

“That’s uncharacteristically noble of you.”

“I told you, I’m not just a pretty face. I’m also rich, witty, intelligent, athletic, etc. Honestly, the list goes on and on.”

You snorted. “Just don’t expect humble to be part of that little myriad, Theo.”

Theo paused. The moment of silence swelled between you like an errant wave. Then, a huge smile broke out on his face. 

“What?” you asked. 

“You called me Theo.”

“Well, that is your name. Has quidditch concussed you so severely that you’ve forgotten?

He responded with an eye roll. “I’m perfectly lucid, thank you very much. Well, besides the firewhisky. I’m a little bit sloshed from that, but not sloshed enough to not notice you call me by my actual name. Not Theodore, not Nott, not twat, not oh god—”

“I get it, Theo.”

His grin grew wider. “There it is again. Theo.”

“It’s just a name, nothing special.”

“It is when you’re the one saying it.” 

“Oh, shut up.”

The satisfied smirk on his face refused to budge even as the sky grew darker. The two of you sprawled out on the dock, staring up at the sky and enjoying the comfortable silence. Theo toyed with his lighter, rubbing his thumb over the spark wheel, which caused the flame to flicker on and off.

You stared at the lighter, vision blurring from the alcohol. “Why do you have that thing?”

“I told you, Mattheo’s a little thief.” 

“No, I mean I know the reason. But I just can’t figure out why.” 

Theo scrunched his brows in confusion. “Are you sure you’re not the one concussed?” 

“Would a concussed person be able to do this?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows and slightly flipped to the side. The action made your hair come loose. 

“What in Merlin’s name am I supposed to be looking at right now?” 

“I’m obviously doing a cartwheel,” you deadpanned. “Aren’t I?” 

Theo chuckled. “You are one drunk witch, Y/N.” 

“M’not drunk.” He raised a brow. “Fine, maybe I’m a tiny bit bevved, but you’re the one avoiding my question.”

“Sorry,” Theo said rather unapologetically. “I’m a bit distracted at the moment.” 

“By what?” 

“Your hair,” he murmured softly. Theo reached out and toyed with a loose strand, twisting a long lock between his fingers. He swallowed thickly, his voice lower and huskier than it was a minute ago. “You should wear it down more often.” 

“It’s a hassle.” 

He swept it over your shoulder, knuckles brushing your cheek. “It’s beautiful.” 

Your cheeks warmed. Whether from the alcohol or his touch, you couldn’t differentiate. “Stop deflecting, Nott.” 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Relentless witch. Can’t you see I’m trying to have a moment here?” 

You gave him a pointed look. Theo sighed before handing over his lighter. Up close, you could see that the silver was worn and dented. It looked much older than you initially thought. To your surprise, Theo silently waved his wand and the lighter transformed into a heart shaped locket. 

“When my nonna gave me the grimoire, it came with this. It was Alessandra’s old locket. She treasured it more than the grimoire itself.” 

“What’s so special about it?” 

“Open it.” 

Your fingers stilled. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t get shy now, diavolina. You wanted to know and now I’m telling you.” 

You hesitated for a moment before curiosity got the best of you. The locket popped open easily. Inside was a picture of a dark haired woman standing next to a man with watercolor eyes and thick brown curls. The couple looked at each other with love and adoration in their eyes. 

“That’s Alessandra, obviously. The man was Damiano, her closest friend, the mad scientist of the village, and the cleverest muggle she’d ever met. He helped author the grimoire.” 

“I never knew that Alessandra had help with her inventions.” 

Theo nodded. “As my family intended. They didn’t approve of her relationship with Damiano, but she didn’t care. They fell madly in love and eventually married.” 

“How is it possible that no one knew about him?”

“Damiano was born with a unique illness that was incurable even with magic. Alessandra poured years of her life into finding a cure, but in the end he succumbed to it. She passed away only a year after him. My nonna said that she died of a broken heart.” Theo took the chain and traced his fingers over the picture. “They left behind two young children who were eventually raised by Alessandra’s parents. Their son and daughter grew up not knowing who their father was. The Marchesis did everything in their power to keep the knowledge to themselves. They didn’t want anyone to know that their great bloodline was tainted by a muggle.” 

Theo bowed his head in shame. He avoided your gaze, choosing to look out at the Black Lake instead. “There it is. The secret that my family has guarded for centuries. The sad part is that some of them still hold those bigoted beliefs, so when people assume the worst of me, I can’t blame them. The Marchesis, the Notts, either way you look at it, there’s bad blood coursing through my veins.” 

“That’s not true, Theo,” you said softly. “You know I don’t think that of you, right?” 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Everyone else does.” 

“Well, I don’t,” you said firmly. “You said it earlier. Family isn’t all that a person amounts to. When I look at you, I don’t see a Nott or a Marchesi. I just see Theo.” 

“I don’t deserve that,” he whispered. The saddest part was that you were sure he meant it. “My great great great grandmother fell in love with a muggle and how did my family repay her for it? They blotted him out of existence.” 

The starlight caressed his forlorn expression with its silver glow, painting a heartbreaking depiction of Theo that you had never seen before. It reminded you of that day in the potions lab when he was talking about his mother. There was such an openness and vulnerability in him then that was present now as well and you realized why he looked at you the way he did that day. 

Theo hadn’t been waiting for you to give him an out. He wanted—no, he needed a friend and you had been too scared to step up then, but you weren’t now. You could be that for him. You wanted to be that for him. A friend. 

Without second guessing yourself, you reached out in the space between you and grabbed hold of his hand. Theo stared at your intertwined fingers in surprise. 

“The love between Damiano and Alessandra lives on,” you said with a small smile. “In their children and their children’s children. In…you.” 

Those watercolor eyes, the very same ones that you had grown so familiar with shone with emotion. Unlike the day in the lab, Theo didn’t put up his mask of cockiness and arrogance and you realized with a start that you didn’t want him to. 

He smiled and squeezed your hand gently. “Yes, I suppose I inherited Damiano’s affinity for cruel, brilliant witches.”

"Affinity is putting it lightly," you said teasingly. "Admit it. You're obsessed with me, Nott."

You blinked as Theo hovered over you. The weight of his body pressed against yours ignited a flame of fiendfyre in your core. He dipped his head down, his curls tickling your nose. "No, not Nott. Not Theodore. Try that again, diavolina."

You wriggled underneath him, but Theo held your hips in place. He brushed his lips against yours and smirked when you tried to kiss him. His low rumble of laughter sent shivers down your spine. "Say it. Say my name again."

"If I say it, will you stop being a tease?"

Theo kissed your neck and laughed when you pouted in response. "Only one way to find out."

"I'll knee you in the crotch if you do that again, Theo."

He grinned. "There's a good girl," Theo said rather suggestively. You fought the urge to squirm at his words. He peppered kisses along your neck, your jaw, and your cheeks while you burst into a fit of drunken giggles. "For the record, I am obsessed with you, but I think you're a little bit obsessed with me too."

"You wish, Theo."

"You're going to be the death of me," he said huskily as he unbuttoned your cardigan. Theo's eyes were full of mischief as he dipped between your breasts, sucking on your flesh and leaving marks in his wake. "But I'm willing to die a happy man, Y/N."

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[noctivague]

Ancient Greek & Roman Knot Magic - Part. 3

Some quotes from "Magic, Witchcraft, and Ghosts in the Greek and Roman Worlds : a sourcebook" by Daniel Ogden

Decided to break down this post into multiple ones because the quotes are too damn long. See the end of the post for links to the other ones.

More love magic:

"This wryneck [inux] of Nico, which knows how to draw a man from accross the sea and girls from their browers, decorated with gold, inset with transluscent amethyst, is dedicated as a dear gift to you, Cyprian, tied through its middle with a gentle thread of purple wool, a gift of guest-friendship from Larissean witch [pharmakis]."

Hellenistic epigrams

Dedication to Aphrodite. "This poem identifies the inux with a (birdless) spinning wheel."

"They pull out love potions from everywhere. That famous antipathes is sought, as are little wheels, wrynecks [iunges], ribbons, root tendrils, herbs, shoots, enticing double tailed lizards, the sweet charms of whinnying creatures." Laevius Morel Apuleius, Apology

Part 1 - Tongue binding

Part 2 - bringing back a lover

Part 4 - amulets

[hermeneutas]

Quero ser um Pharmakis e gostaria de saber mais sobre as visões gregas sobre as ervas, Herbologia helenica (Pharmakeia). Só conheço fontes como theoi que liberou duas páginas que falam sobre algumas ervas e flores, mas gostaria de saber outras fontes.

Khaire philos!

A herbologia helênica é rica em mitos, como os descritos no Theoi como tu fala. Há também conteúdo para ser observado nos PMG - Papiros Mágicos Gregos, que relatam (entre uma miríade de instrumentos) ervas relevantes para a prática da feitiçaria. Um livro que recomendo para relatos de feitiçaria antiga e comentário de um pesquisador é o Magic, Witchcraft and Ghosts in the Greek and Roman Worlds por Daniel Ogden.

Além dessas, é mais prudente observar escritores ocultistas que transcendem a esfera helênica como inspiração. Afinal, a prática mágica com ervas é tão antiga quanto tudo em nossa espiritualidade.

[virgils-muse]

Alright welp. New anon blog!

[titaniaoftheseasons]

@farenduil location: Araushnee's Grove, Arvandor notes: one last thread with mother Araushnee’s grove was void of any life, Lloth’s betrayal had stripped it of its splendour and while it would have been a small matter to sow seeds and new life into this soil, it remained as a warning. Mneme and Aegnor’s repulsion from this realm was a message, Titania’s amputated limbs another. Her ruined sister would kill Meryasek, and with him her people’s last hope would flame out. They were emotional creatures, void of leadership; their grief would just consume them. Perhaps it was better to be over, when a limb became necrotic you cut it off, you didn’t cling to it and hope that it didn’t take your life with it. 

“I was a terrible mother,” Titania whispered, “I put everything I was into being Queen of a people that came to hate me. I wanted to be a mother, and I failed. I wanted to be Queen, and I failed at that too.” The archfey wasn’t the type to purposefully invoke sympathy or to petty self-pity, but the long years tethered to so many of her people had addled her mind alongside the spellplague. While the pharmakis had restored her and the Gods of Elysia had healed her, Titania wasn’t the woman who’d left the mortal realm behind. She’d promised so much to Zahrya, to Meryasek, but even in her resurgence she’d vowed vengeance and made them pledge the same. Everywhere she looked there was fault etched in the lines of all that she had written, Farenduil had not held back, she knew that he despised her: and he’d been right to. Titania despised her too. 

“I thought for so long that it was within my power to control everything, that if I just held on tight enough then we wouldn’t have to lose anymore than we already have.” Titania turned towards her son, worried hands wrung in front of her, “You and your friends came here seeking aid but you won’t find any: Corellon turned his back on the mortal realm long ago.” Farenduil, the son with whom Titania had expected the world and Meryasek, the son with whom Titania had never expected anything. How they’d both surprised her, and how she’d ruined them both. She could feel the pain of his broken soul as his magic ran keenly through her, the death of a warder was an insufferable loss. All because they had hoped to find aid in a hostile realm. Boons, perhaps, but nothing more: these elves sought worship, as all Gods did, nothing more. “As have I.” It was time for the eladrins to come home so they might at last be restored.

[senatushq]

"Twas a few nights before Christmas and all the house, not a hoof was a stomping, not even a mouse.

...What? C'mon Laer, tell the real story." - Aurora

There’s no big plot twist, no scandalous murder, and nothing dramatic. Just a wedding, a birthday, a memorial rave, and some festive cheer.

Enjoy the event, enjoy your holidays, and enjoy the gifts that the admins have prepared for each of you. Nine new aspects and one new archfiend have dropped, each carefully gift wrapped for a member of the group. These characters do not count towards your overall character count and you are under no obligation to bring them in if you choose not to. They will still be considered ‘in play,’ but they’ll be held for you in the event that you ever change your mind. There are no time constraints to when you need to get your application in (if at all), so don’t stress about needing to rush through other ideas you might already have percolating. 

Thank you to all of you for putting up with the madness that has been this last year, welcome back to returning faces, and happy holidays to everyone. We hope that you’ve had as much fun playing this silly little game as we’ve had working on it (maybe more, actually). This is a labour of love so getting to share this world with all of you, watching your reactions, reading your interactions, and giggling over your discourse really makes it all worthwhile. 

Once again, thank you for a wonderful year. 

ooc info:

There is one rule: no trading. Your gift is yours and can’t be bartered, changed, swapped, or exchanged. Do not ask. 

Some etiquette: if you aren’t happy with what you’ve been given, then we’re very sorry and encourage you to look at the characters that are open and available to you. Please avoid comments that might make other people feel guilty that they have something you want.

Limit: It's now 19, don't kill each other.

Congratulations to Aegnor on winning the Saturnalia Gladiator Event!

In front of the entire city, your muse was presented with a flower of pharmakis, the flower grown from the blood of a God. In secret, however, this flower was replaced by one grown from the blood of Nyarlathotep. Under Oztalun's direction the prize was swapped out by his High Priestesses Lilith and Pythia. Should your muse choose to undergo the transformation, they will not turn into their 'truest self' but will instead turn into an archfiend similar to that of an original vampire.

[seeingvivianne]

Wearing the uniform and all the supplies given by the Senate and The Eye along with leathers given to her as a surprise gift from a new coven members to match and give her extra support and protection. Vivianne is also carrying a huge amount of supplies for both offense, defense and healing in her pockets and in additional holsters. Unseen but on her person are the magical rations from Marcos as well as the Flower of Pharmakis from August.

[bownes-anon]

do you think its possible to reverse the plant shit

~ He shakes his head. There might very plausibly be a way, but he wouldn’t want to. He wants to be a good host. And he wants to be a good Pharmakis too. ~

[khaos-thegoddess]

find someone who knows how to reverse curses?

The only Pharmakis I am aware of that is still alive is Circe, and I don’t even know where Aiaia is. How am I supposed to find someone who can reverse curses? Even if we were to find Moly, that can only do so much.

[crazycatsiren]

New herbs headed my way, oh yes! I will finally have mandrake in my collection.

[christisilluminati]

Unveiling The Mysteries Biblical References To Schizophrenic Experiences

In this blog we will unveil schizophrenia by bridging spirituality, and ancient texts. Schizophrenia is typically labeled and defined as a complex "MENTAL HEALTH CONDITION." It has intrigued humanity since it was first diagnosed and labeled in 1939. However, the symptoms have been present for centuries. As we dive into the mysteries of schizophrenia, we’ll explore biblical perspectives in order to shed light on the TRUTH of what schizophrenia really is.

Defining Schizophrenia:

The term “schizophrenia” emerged in the early 20th century, coined by Swiss psychiatrist Eugene Buehler. It combines two Greek words: “schizo” (meaning split) and “phren” (referring to the mind). This composite term suggests a double-mindedness - split personality.

The Bible Is Not Silent About Schizophrenia:

Interestingly, the Bible holds many parallels to schizophrenia. However, most are not aware of this, due to our lack of knowledge, leaving many people unaware of how to recognize it and how we are to manage it with Christ as the cure, instead of seeking aid from Psychologist and Pharmakeia. While research would go against my statement and claim there is no known cure for schizophrenia at all. It is considered ti be a disabling condition with pharmaceutical treatment being descried as the ONLY option we have.

It is believed to become extremely dangerous for the "VICTIM" and everyone around them if left untreated by pharmakeia. As, I not support the use of pharmakie, I do agree, schizophrenia can be extremely dangerous. Life threatening at times. Even if you are not suffering from its effects. - SATAN IS AFTER YOU ONE WAY OR ANOTHER. Because He knows what you have.

Pharmakeia is the original Greek word for “sorcery” in Galatians 5:20 and Revelation 18:23. According to Thayer’s Greek Lexicon, pharmakeia involves the “use or the administering of drugs, poisoning, (Healing: Poisonous Herb - Healing: Poisonous Snake.) sorcery, and magical arts, (Black Magic.) often found in connection with idolatry and fostered by it.” Revelation 18:23-24 says that all nations will be deceived by pharmakeia during the End Times. It also informs us that THE BLOOD OF THE PROPHETS is found in it. 

Revelation 18: 23 and the light of [the] lantern shall no more shine in thee, and the voice of the husband and of the wife shall no more be heard in thee; for thy merchants were princes of the earth. For in thy witchcrafts all folks erred. 24 And the blood of prophets and of saints is found in it, and of all men that be slain in earth.

Thought To Be Delusions And False Beliefs:

Delusions: Schizophrenia often seems as though the person who suffers is full of false beliefs. A lot of this is TRUE. However, if they understood what was happening to them, they would not be left with those false beliefs.

So, what is happening to them, and why do they believe the things they believe? The simplest explanation I can give you is that oftentimes the "VICTIMS" believe the things they do is because it's what they have heard: FROM THE SCHIZOPHRENIC VOICES. (For a more in-depth breakdown to what really is accruing in the mind of the schizophrenic patient please refer to my FREE BOOK, "The Link Between.")

Biblically, we encounter stories of individuals grappling with distorted perceptions. These stories are now being picked at by researchers in the Mental Health field. Their studies reveal that important biblical figures had experiences that resemble those now defined as psychotic symptoms, suggesting that their experiences may have been manifestations of primary or mood disorder-associated psychotic disorders. Implying that the entire globe has founded their beliefs and morals based on the teachings of PYCHOTIC people.

Hallucinations and Divine Encounters:

Hallucinations: Schizophrenia includes auditory or visual hallucinations. In Scripture, prophets like Isaiah and Ezekiel had extraordinary visions—divine encounters that shaped their destinies. These experiences were not mere hallucinations but encounters with the supernatural.

Discerning the Source: When looking to the famous prophets naturally we believe the source was from the "Spirit of God" who spoke audible words to his prophets. "The Word of God came to the PROPHET and said..." (Jeramiah 1:4, Gensis 15:1 and many more.) This was a term EXCLUSIVLY reserved for the prophets. However, what is not conversed about in or studies today is a source that is not from THE GOD we believe spoke to these men. A SOURCE OF CONFLICT, MURDER AND EVIL. - Another God. (Deuteronomy 13:1-5, Hosea 12:7-9) We must TEST THEM to insure we are receiving divine guidance from the right God. (1 John 4:1-6) Because THE WORD OF GOD came to the prophets, and if one God can speak to you. BOTH GODS CAN. (Matthew 4:1-11, 2 Corinthians 12:7, 2 Corinthians 13:3)

Conclusion:

Schizophrenia is the gift of prophecy. And our science that first began in EGYPT is slowly taking GOD out of our understanding and is doing things in our world today that is manifesting the SPIRIT of THE BEAST. (2 Thessalonians 2:1-6) We already no longer believe that prophets do still exist, and recent studies are aiming toward a world where we would believe THEY NEVER DID. Claiming Jesus himself was schizophrenic as the story in Matthew 4 reveals a STRIKING parallel to those who experience psychotic disorders today in our world.

For The Record:

I firmly believe in science to hold accuracy in revealing things that we would not be able to understand without it. It has helped me to expose this in way that all people would be able to understand. It brings the spiritual word into the tangible world. Science confirms everything that I mention throughout my ministry. It has help me substantiate my case. AND ONLY THE LAZY PERSON would not at least look at the things I can continue to show you, when our world is stating that JESUS WAS SCHIZOPHRENIC, while I claim to be able to PROVE with science that He was, because He was a PROPHET. The most dangerous spiritual gift to have. One that nearly led to His suicide. - "THROW YOURSELF DOWN." A labeled PYCHOTIC DISORDER. GOD SPOKE TO HIM!

[iamnaturalnana]

Did You Know...?

pharmacy (n.) late 14c., “a medicine,” from Old French farmacie “a purgative” (13c.), from Medieval Latin pharmacia, from Greek pharmakeia “use of drugs, medicines, potions, or spells; poisoning, witchcraft; remedy, cure,” from pharmakeus (fem. pharmakis) “preparer of drugs, poisoner, sorcerer” from pharmakon “drug, poison, philter, charm, spell, enchantment.” Beekes writes that the original…

[marscfwar]

“When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him.”

Name: Ares, Mars, Gunaikothoinas, Mamertos, Enualios, Aphneios, Thereitas, Miaephonus,  Brotoloegus, Andreïphontes, ....cont’d Age & Birthdate: 5000+ & Unknown Species: Original Vampire Affiliation: N/A Occupation: Unknown Face Claim: Charlie Vickers Alternate Universe: Meryasek died at birth

Son of the Outer God Nyarlathotep, whatever name Ares bore when he fled the realm of Rhylkos he left it behind. Nyarlathotep King and divine of the dead, it was said that where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished, for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare. But Ares knew him as father. Ares, youngest of four siblings came upon the realm of mortals as formless dead whispers, in Rhylkos he’d had the reputation of a conqueror, but under the gaze of the powerful queen he willfully kneeled. He pleaded with the Queen of the realm to permit them safe passage through into her mortal realm, something within her stirred, and Ares along with his siblings were permitted entrance. Ares stepped foot onto Earth’s soil and he, along with his siblings, were overcome with thirst. Hunger burned beneath their veins until they sank their fangs into mortals and took the form of the humans they laid into. Free as this realm made them, it came with a curse: bloodlust. 

Hunger curved at the edge of Ares’ desires, the world lay open before him and it was in the realm of mortals that he discovered his power to not just inflict his will upon others - but to spread what became known as vampirism as well. Ares prided himself in selecting the fiercest warriors, he’d pull them from the field of battle and reward them with eternity at his side. It was only when they warred among themselves that he began to feel the pain of their loss, an anguish that he’d never known before. In his immense grief, Titania came to him as a source of comfort, wed already to his sister Venus, he’d watched as the woman he’d secretly loved promised herself to another. The first time he kissed her, she pushed him away – the second time came of her own volition, in the quiet hours centuries later. Titania’s realm was ripe, her rule undisputed, but Ares was the one thing she’d always denied. He saw in her potential and a future, she’d transformed a defeated god of victory and conquest and reminded him why he bore so many names that meant the slaughtering of men. Meryasek was his gift to her, but Titania could not stand for the world to know that she’d been unfaithful, and that from their passion a halfblooded child of vampiric and fey origin had been born. Titania fed Meryasek the flower of the pharmakis in his infancy to change him into that of a fey, but instead it transformed him into his truest self: a drow. Following the death of his son, Ares disappeared entirely, unseen for a millennia, until now. 

Abilities

Can compel anyone, except for his older siblings and Titania. 

Able to hide his presence from supernatural creatures, even those of his bloodline. 

Immortal.

Heals regeneratively.

Unbeatable strength, speed, and reflexes. 

Berserk: the more he’s wounded the stronger he becomes.

[titaniaoftheseasons]

@marscfwar​ location: Fairy Queen’s Private Memorial Gardens notes: mourning the loss of their son but spicy

This was a family plot, reserved for members of the royal family. Titania supposed that she should have felt blessed that there were only two graves marked here. Yidhra, first queen of the fey, and high elf had died along their journey from Hyperborea to here. She gave her life so that Titania might have a chance to start over in this mortal realm. It was a natural thing for children to bury their parents, she had no memories of her father, and only vague recollections of the deity who’d fostered her in the hours of her childhood. Though thousands of years stood between then and now, Titania thought of her often, she hoped Yidhra was proud of her. No mother, however, should ever be made to bury their child. Meryasek had been born an abomination, a child that never should have been she’d bore out of desperation, she fed him the flower of the pharmakis when he was only a newborn and watched with horrible grief as his flesh mottled and he died by her own hand. 

For all her power, Titania had not been able to save him. Her desperation to remake him had ended him, had made him into his truest self. A drow. Now he was somewhere out there in the ether, in the infinity of the cosmos likely fueled by an insatiable hatred of her. Titania wondered if Ayi’ig would spare the kindness of rearing the babe not to loathe where he came from, though in her heart of hearts she knew the truth. None were allowed here now, save for her children and Venus, naturally. Still, there was a truth that Titania could not breathe a word of, infidelity, and the fault she placed on her own shoulders for transforming the son that should have been perfect in a mother’s eyes. 

“You should not have come here.” Titania whispered, the original vampire could hide his presence from everyone - everyone but her. She would have known him in death, by the way his breath rose and felland the way his feet struck the earth. She would know him in madness, in death, at the end of the world. A dagger was in her hand in a moment, she whirred in a blinding flash, light met shadow as her arm could go no further. 

[senatushq]

Pluto

NAME/ALIASES. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. Prehistoric & Unknown SPECIES. Aspect GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him or He/They AFFILIATIONS. UTP OCCUPATION. UTP

History

Of all the Outer Gods, Nyarlathotep was the most feared, it was said that where he went, rest vanished, for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare. This creature was Pluto’s father. Divine sovereign of a realm beyond even the stretch of Hyperborea, hidden from the prying eyes of Elysia, Rhylkos was the result of a land fallen to consumption. Decay that eroded the foundation beneath it, war torn and chaotic, Pluto and his siblings fled through the Otherworld to escape the clutches of their father. With Titania’s blessing, they settled within the mortal realm sometime after the fall of Eden. Creatures of unknown form and shape, when Pluto entered the mortal realm alongside his siblings he was suddenly possessed by an insatiable thirst. Divinity flowed through the veins of mortals, however faint, breathed to life by the magic of Queen Titania and Ulthar. It was this that Pluto craved most of all, from the moment blood touched his tongue, he was forever changed. He took the form of the first man that he bit into, teeth breaking skin as the original vampire was truly born. Whatever name he’d carried in his youth fell away, traded for titles and epithets that the mortals settled upon his and his siblings' shoulders. Sometimes Hades, sometimes Osiris, the Romans called him Pluto and that was the last name that he kept. 

While his siblings contested for how to best fit into the mortal realm, Pluto only desired peace and solitude. He was among the first to retreat after the monarchy of vampires was established, the magisterium who would tend to his bloodline and keep the grief from his heart. Millennia of rule had made the original vampire grow tired, despair and the knowledge that someday this realm would suffer the same fate as so many others. To the Otherworld he wandered and it was there that he met the dark specter of the true Goddess of Death. A queen whose crown had been stolen from her, Tiamat to some, Persephone to others, but she would always be Kore to him. Through the realm that ran in between she led him to the place where she’d fallen, to a field of flowers that had the power of pharmakis, within the grove stood a lone tree that bore a single fruit. A pomegranate possessed what remained of the goddess’ soul, a hidden Uthenera that was doomed to fade. Pluto brought the seeds to his tongue and he swallowed, he carried with him what remained of death until he could find a vessel strong enough to hold her. Future queen of the dead, of the vampires, and he would be the king that would shepherd their kind into a new age.

Connections

Lilith: With Persephone’s soul in his chest, Pluto slipped into the Asphodel meadows, undetected, and led Lilith by the hands as he shepherded her from her prison. 

Pythia: A word whispered in the shell of a few ears, Pluto carried Pythia’s first invocation into the hearts of they who would form their first pact - liberating the greater demon from their cage. 

Nettelia: Pluto watched, unseen, as Nettelia stripped flesh into pages - the fractured soul inside of him whispering to her Persephone’s secrets while she toiled over the bodies of so many. 

Abilities

Immortal: Undying and will heal regeneratively, Pluto will never age as a result. 

Hidden: Able to turn completely undetectable, Pluto can hide his presence from all methods of detection, even from that of his own bloodline. 

Vampiric: Unbeatable strength, speed and reflexes.

Pluto: Can transform into swarms of birds, vermin, and insects, as well as control them with his mind. 

Weaknesses

Vessel: However durable, Pluto, like all original vampires possesses a body in order to hold a physical presence in the mortal realm. If destroyed, he will need to find another host. 

Otherworldly: If pierced through the heart by a stake made from a tree grown in the Otherworld, Pluto will immediately petrify and turn to stone until the stake is removed.

Pomegranates: Pluto is incapable of harming reapers or any followers of Persephone. 

Invitation: As a vampire Pluto must ask permission to enter anyone’s place of residence.

Blood: Pluto must feed in order to live, if he does not then he will slowly starve and turn feral, if he still does not feed then he will desiccate just like any other vampire before petrifying.

THIS SKELETON IS CURRENTLY CLOSED.