#so that was nice 🥰

[crowholtz]

The Alchemist and The Owl

Near the beginning of their relationship (before it became romantic/sexual), Helene wrote for and gifted to Strahd a long narrative poem to get out her racing thoughts on the rides to Vallaki from Barovia Village. He'd been on her mind quite heavily from their various mental conversations and long chess matches they played the night of the Dinner.

The poem was titled

The Alchemist and the Owl

It was a story as such: an old wizard and alchemist dwelt in an isolated tower by his lonesome. He once lived as the king's court wizard, but the wizard gained a mental ailment so altering, it stoked paranoia and anxiety, turning him away from anyone he could trust. So he left and locked himself away in his tower.

He toiled away at tinctures that could cure his ailing mind until eventually they began to help, lifting his anxiety and melancholy. But so ingrained was his newfound misanthrope and paranoid nature that he still kept himself isolated, instead now working on potions for his kingdom and sending them away by a single courier. It was better this way, he thought, that way his rivals could not steal his work. As he gets on in the years, his health begins to fail him, and quickly. He finds himself weak, tired. He knows he is sick. He begins work on a new potion, one that could cure him. Unfortunately the wizard hits a barrier, and he finds he has lost inspiration, he has a mental block. Every day he tries to think of how to develop this potion, to no avail. Each day becomes monotonous, as he slowly gives up hope.

One day, a pretty, blonde-feathered barn owl appeared at his window and kept him company. He was suspicious at first, but after it playfully nipped at him and he giggled in response, the first time he had truly laughed in years, he grew an attachment for it.

The owl visited at the same time every day. It even began to fly into his tower room with him, watching as he worked. The alchemist would bounce ideas off of the owl and talk to it of his past.

The alchemist was revitalized. He was filled with inspiration and new energy. His work was more productive than ever, and he felt he was close to developing a remedy for his ailing health. Not only for himself, but for whomever in the kingdom suffered from his affliction. The owl kept him company each day, perching at various places around his room, at sometimes sinking into itself, relaxed and snoozing, other times completely enraptured as it watched him work, soft noises coming from its chest. Once, on accident, the owl knocked over a jar of black dye, turning a chunk of its feathers black. The Alchemist wasn't fussed, insisting the owl looked better that way. The owl's feathers ruffled.

After months of work, he'd finally done it. The Alchemist scrawled the last of his notes in his journal, the finishing touches on a complicated and targeted healing potion. The only issue was actually making enough of it to be effective. His ingredient supply had dwindled, and where normally he'd go out into the wilderness to collect more, his legs were failing him. His body weak, the man could barely get around his tower. The owl watched on, head cocked, as the Alchemist's expression of triumph melted into sadness and resignation. He would see what he could do tomorrow, but he felt discouraged.

The next morning, the alchemist awoke to find his lab journal was missing, and in its place was a single black feather. He panicked, searching desperately for his book, though deep in his gut he knew the owl had taken it. Deep sadness overtook him, and he sulked and paced for a while, until anger swelled within him like tidal wave. Of course. How could he be so foolish? The owl was not here for his company, no, it was a spy. Perhaps sent by one of his old rivals. Come to steal his ideas and secrets.

The wizard rifled through his library manically, pulling open an old tome and flipping frantically through the pages until he landed on the page he needed. Unthinking, angry, nearly crazed, he used the owls feather and cast a death curse.

The was a fluttering at his open window as, just as the time, the owl flew through, a satchel in its beak. A flash of red light coursed through the owl, and it cried out and morphed in the air, crashing onto the floor. No longer was it an owl, but a woman, pale and beautiful, with a heart shaped face. A streak of black ran through her straw colored hair. Intricate tattoos covered her neck and shoulders. A druidess. She looked up at the wizard, fear, pain, and sadness in her eyes. She weakly handed him the satchel.

Confused and with a creeping feeling of horror, the alchemist opened it up. Inside was his journal, along with all the ingredients he needed to make his potion to heal himself. She had gone gathering for him.

The wizard dropped to his knees over her, cradling her body in his arms. He blubbered over her, repeatedly apologizing. She touched his face. Her expression wasn't of forgiveness or understanding. It was of betrayal. It was of heartbreak.

She died with a look in her eyes struck the Alchemist's very soul.

The wizard eventually sent out the potion recipe to another alchemist in the kingdom. He didnt want the credit.

The wizard sat, motionless and still, every day by his window, twirling a black feather between his fingers, until even those didn't work anymore. The Alchemist faded into death.

~~~

Since Helene wrote this poem, throughout the course of this campaign, it has been a recurring motif between Strahd and Helene. Strahd intends to free Barovia, deluded that this next ritual of his will work. Helene knows it won't. It never does. He's trapped in this cycle. Helene intends to save and free Barovia, but Strahd has seen this over countless millenia - the adventurers never win. He's convinced she won't win. They have to be at odds with one another despite their love, each of them doing things that seem terrible or hostile on the surface, but they tell each other they're doing it "for us". Both of them insist to each other that they are the owl, and the other, the alchemist, needs to trust them, lest they destroy each other.

And gods does it fuck me up.

[mrghostrat]

fine; make your tea then take us back to bed ☕️🐍

[letraspal]

Jegulus

[maskedchip]

baker street waltz on full blast

[dyinghomoerotically]

One of the (many) things I love about Xie Lian is how artfully he combines old man and babygirl. I would give examples, but I don’t think I need to. We all know

[girlsdads]

#ok it’s giving girl dad wearing his daughter’s handmade necklace special for him into work 🥺🥺😩😩

couldn’t stop thinking about this tag of mine, wrote a little smth about it 🥰

The stomping footfalls racing down the hall behind him could only be those of a toddler. Daniel turns and squats just in time for his tiny blonde projectile of a child to come barreling into his chest. The force sends Daniel falling back onto his butt with a surprised oof, his daughter giggling delightedly in his lap.

“Hey, Ellie-bug,” Daniel smiles. “Daddy’s gotta go to work, remember how we talked about it and you promised to be a big girl?” He brushes a strand of hair away from her mouth where it’s gotten stuck in a little smear of jam leftover from her breakfast. Daniel had shown Max how to make it just the way she likes—the pancake batter shaped in the silicone star mold, the silly faces drawn in jelly and jam.

Ellie’s head bobs up and down dutifully, but she makes no move to get up.

Max appears from the kitchen then, looking like a man who’s been fighting a losing battle with the second pancake. There’s a splatter of thick batter on his white t-shirt. He’s holding the spatula like it’s offended him somehow. Daniel looks at him over their daughter’s head, and loves him fiercely.

“She is of course the biggest girl,” Max says. Ellie grins proudly. “Why don’t you give Daddy your present now, then we will finish your pancakes.”

Daniel watches her grey-blue eyes light up like she’s just now remembering why she came running at him in the first place. She reaches a chubby hand into the bib pocket on her overalls, embroidered Enchanté script stretching as she roots around and produces a string of brightly-colored plastic beads. She holds it out to him expectantly.

Daniel takes the strand delicately in hand, wraps it around the backs of his fingers and rotates his wrist to get a good look. It’s a necklace, probably more of a choker given its relatively small circumference, the fat pony beads the only real indication it was made by a child. The powder pink and fuchsia beads are separated by interspersed pearlescent white orbs and clear sparkly stars. Smack in the center is a single number bead, a glittery pink three.

“Jeepers, did you make this for me? It’s beautiful!” Daniel says, and means it. He’s already been wanting to talk to his team about adding a jewelry collection to a future drop, and what better inspiration?

Ellie nods excitedly. “Papa helped me do a…,” she pauses, squints and tilts her little head, searching for the word, “…a pattern!”

“We made it the other day, while you were out with Blake,” Max chimes in. “For good luck.” He sounds almost bashful, like maybe it wasn’t their daughter’s idea in the first place. Daniel’s heart is so swollen it’s threatening to leak out through the gaps in his ribcage.

“How’d I get so lucky, huh?” Daniel muses, softly, mostly to himself. He stretches the elastic over his head, feels the smooth plastic three settle in the hollow of his throat. His pulse thrums evenly against it, grounding.

He flashes his biggest smile at his family. “How do I look?”

“Pretty, Daddy!” Ellie throws herself forward again, wrapping her arms around Daniel’s neck. It leaves him locking eyes with Max, who’s gazing down at the two of them like nothing else in the universe exists. Daniel can never quite get used to that look—still feels butterflies dancing up the back of his throat, his stomach dropped into a glorious freefall.

“Beautiful, Daniel,” Max says, reverent. “Always.”

[yonglixx]

lix looked so good today and he had so much fun 🥹♥️

[not-with-you-but-of-you]

GILMORE GIRLS | 3.19 "Keg! Max!"

[saradiation]

Happy Holidays! 🎄❤️✨

[shorelinnes]

onew: shinee world VI

[mayasdeluca]

First look at Maya and Carina in Station 19 Season 7

[ask-funnybunnydoll]

For Jax. Cool bug fact's! 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. 𐌀𐌍𐌃 ᏵꝊ𐌃, 𐌌𐌉Ᏽ𐋅𐌕 𐌍Ꝋ𐌕 𐌁𐌄 𐌔Ꝋ…𐌌𐌄𐌓𐌂𐌉𐌅𐌵𐌋.

J: I remind myself of him sometimes. Did he fail that bad? Or did I fail myself in promises of never being like him?

[maidofmetal]

[image id: maslows hierarchy of needs meme. edited to read “trans people on tumblr thinking i’m cool”. end id]

[littlecutiexox]

I’m so happy with how much I’ve improved my relationship with food

[skullsandcorals]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @kill-cry-die !!! 🥳🎉✨✨✨

I tried my best 🥹💙

(click for better quality if you're on the mobile app. do not repost.)

A Family Built on the Weary by DustShattersLikeGlass on Ao3

Scene specifically pulled from Part 9, “The Things We Lost in the Fire”, Chapter 7!

[its-short-for-jackalope]

Drawing request drawing request! If u’d like, can u do Holloduke/Holloweane? If not that, then maybe Chumby, the Hatchetfield Ape-Man with Willabella Muckwab. Put ‘em in a room together and see what happens haha!

Just run away with me, [I] won't feel so alone