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triflesandparsnips · 1 year

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hey hey guess what it's time for

Update 4: Return of the (Soap) King

For those who haven't been following along, I've been having a nice time doing experimental archaeology and recreating cosmetics/household goods that are historically plausible for local idiot pirate Stede Bonnet to have had around.

Figure 1. Me, addressing my kitchen appliances.

So far we've had successful lip balm, yet-to-be-completed Oil of Lavender, the terrible tragedies that have so far befallen the pearl face cream, and, finally, the unending journey of the one household item actually mentioned on the dang show: the lavender soap (with updates 1-3 and several mini-updates).

Did this all secretly derive from my researching period-appropriate medical horror? Yes. Am I still going to write about it? Of course come on now I can't just keep that enema information to myself--

But TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY.

Figure 2. One very excited ship's surgeon who will unfortunately have to bide his fuckin time.

Nope, today we're on the next iteration of the lavender soap, because we're still at the "fuck around and find out" portion of this experimental process-- and so, behold:

Version 3.0 7 oz. dried soap 4 oz. ground orrisroot 1 oz. ground whole cloves 1 oz. ground benjamin 10 drops lavender essential oil oil of lavender, q.s. rosewater, q.s.

You may notice that I have, tragically, only added enough of anything lavenderish to allow myself the honesty of still calling this "lavender" soap -- as previously discussed, lavender essential oils (as we know them today) were not really a Thing, and the Oil of Lavender (...which is not an essential oil, but rather an infusion of lavender flowers and olive oil) is not quite ready for primetime scent vibes, so I genuinely don't think these are comparable to actually just grinding up and shoving in the dried flowers.

But for the sake of Science, I needed to find out if removing the flowers would help with the browning issue of previous versions, so-- out went the lavender. For now.

Figure 3. Oh no, I-- oh man, don't cry, I'm sorry, I'll put it back omg.

Other changes in this version are:

store-bought ground orrisroot (...listen, Thomas is but a wee lad, and not yet hearty enough to wreck regular orrisroot as hard as it needs);

store-bought ground benzoin (because it was cheaper to buy in bulk that the solid resin from the woo-woo shop);

increased the amount of orrisroot from 1 ounce to 4 ounces, in keeping with some other recipes, to try and bulk up the myristic acid content (i.e., the thing wot makes olive-oil based Nabulsi soap actually produce a bubbly lather)

I should at this point say that typically the scientific process recommends making only one change at a time when conducting Experiments, so that one may know what exactly affected a change in a positive, negative, or neutral manner.

Consider, however, that I have no patience. So fuck it, we ball.

Show us the soap, trifles

To get to the soap, you must first suffer through mortifying ordeal of process photos.

Figure 4. The ground orrisroot on my tiny digital scale (that actually measures grains, which itself is a holdover from apothecary measurements!)

Wait wait wait actually look at my tiny bullshit scale, I love it, look at its little one-gram calibration weight:

Figure 5. A baby.

Figures 6 and 7. An ounce of whole cloves (left) and the results of young Thomas's efforts thrown on top of the orrisroot and benjamin in the mortar (right).

I should note that rather than grinding the cloves in my granite mortar and pestle first, I put them straight into Thomas's maw-- I don't know if that led to how intensely clove-oily these grounds are, or the fact that the lavender flowers were not present to soak it up. Previously I got a grey-green powder out of grinding the both together, so this rich, wet clove-color did not bode well for my "can I stop this from being brown?" soap plans...

Figure 8. ...Or maybe it'll be fine? I added the dried soap, and now look at them all mixed together!

As a note, I had to actually use a whisk at this point rather than just rely on my pestle to do the work -- my mortar is Too Small for these shenanigans, and the four ounces' worth of orrisroot did not help matters. I won't say how much of this mix ended up outside the mortar and on my clothes, but it was... it was a non-zero amount.

Whatever, thought I. This is Science. This is me experiencing the divine art of creation across space-time with my alchemical forebears, and also this is why I should not be allowed in other people's kitchens.

Notably, the upped powder content meant that I had to add a lot more splashes of rosewater to get to a dough-y state where the soap could be hand-rolled, and I had to work significantly longer with the pestle-- while version 2.0 was, per my notes, about 8-10 minutes' worth of work, I would call this a solid 20 minutes at least of beating the ever-loving shit outta this mix until everything was incorporated.

And once it was, well--

Figure 9. Hello, brown.

As you can see, the soap mix does form up very nicely, though it still requires a spatula to clear the sides of the mortar and pestle.

At this point, remembering that the last time I hand-rolled wash balls my palms came away Very Brown, I donned some latex gloves before I commenced my rolling. However, because (and again, I cannot stress this enough) I lack patience, I threw in another change: rather than leaving them as balls, I squished them slightly between my palms to flatten them into slightly more traditional soap shapes.

Figure 10. Cookie dough or falafel: you decide.

A note regarding the scent: Whether it's the relative lack of the lavender, or the big bump to the orrisroot (or some magic alchemical combination of the two), the soaps, while still smelling strongly like spice cookies, now have an oddly-unfamiliar-but-fascinating scent profile, similar to what I found happened when I made the lip pomatum. There's no good reason why this should make me believe that I've come closer to a "real" recipe, but the feeling is there nonetheless -- and it's definitely interesting.

Finally, and because the flat sides of these soaps looked too innocent, too pure, I decided to try that octopus stamp again. For future reference, stamping immediately after making these? Not a great idea. The soap stuck to the stamp like a motherfucker, and so a lot of detail was lost. But regardless--

Figure 11. Spice cookie kraken soap cakes, holy shit.

And now, I actually do have to wait a few days before I can try them out, or they'll fall the fuck to pieces. Keep watch for mini-updates, though, as I check out how they dry and probably do more unfortunate stamp experiments on them.

#lavender soap #spice cookie kraken soap cakes #our flag means death #ofmd #history #stede bonnet #and his historically possible cosmetic collection #lotta ridiculous research #experimental archaeology #stede bonnet's theoretical library #stede bonnet's theoretical self-care extravagances #the historically inaccurate shop #trifles the amateur history enthusiast strikes again #funky little alchemist with funky little interests #eagle eyed viewers will see the SOAP OF NEROLI post-it sticking out of my process journal #THAT DAY IS COMING

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grumpygreenwitch · 2 months

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The Witches and Wizards Job 37-38

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THIRTY SEVEN

"You look old," Baba Yaga said at last into the deadly silence, her Russian musical and cold.

Koschei flinched as if she'd slapped him. Nate slipped behind the Hag and Fedorov until he stood just between them and Dresden; close enough to be seen, but no so close that either Koschei or Stone tried to stop him.

"It's not you," the Blackbird choked out. "It can't be you. I took everything from you. Everything!"

"You stole," she snapped at him. "You're always trying to take power that's not yours -"

"It's mine -"

"It's too much -"

"IT'S MINE!" he shouted, and half the lights went out. The dock was thrown into chiaroscuro patterns from the floodlights just outside it and two fluorescent lights hanging on grimly. "If you cannot hold onto power, then it belongs to those who can."

"By that measure, if I can take your power away, it's mine to keep," she replied, and there was such menace in her voice even the golem shifted minutely away.

"You can do nothing," the wizard gritted out. "A hundred years I have plotted and planned and prepared. You may be able to cast a glamour and light a few lights, but so what? You don't have your mortar, you don't have your pestle, you don't even have your shawl!"

"Neither do you," Nate said evenly in English before anyone else could speak.

"You be silent, mortal!" Koschei threw his power at Ford in a flash of green light.

But Dresden, faster than him, rolled to his feet and skid to a halt between the mastermind and their mark. Power bloomed from him, from the black feathers stitched among the feathery motif embroidered into the wrists and neck and hem of his dress shirt - the Blackbird's own feathers, snatched from him that first time at the MFA. The power crashed into a shield wrought and empowered by those feathers, and bounced off. Dresden had guessed that Koschei would be the sort of wizard that always made sure his own magic couldn't hurt him on the rebound. Surprising no one (except perhaps himself), he'd been right.

Stunned, Koschei came to a halt. Nate stepped out to stand beside Dresden, his hands laced in front of him, unfazed. He hadn't even twitched when the Blackbird had moved to attack him. "I haven't lied to you yet, have I?"

"I do. not. CARE," Koschei screamed, pale with rage, the cords of muscle along his neck standing out starkly. "Bring her! Bring a dozen gods. Bring a hundred! Can your wizard protect them all? Can he do that while protecting the Prince of Thieves, her little friend? Will he choose between you and them? Between you and the Hag? Between -"

"I don't think you understand." Ford shrugged. "Why are you shouting? You've already lost."

Koschei bared his teeth. "If that is true, then it will be my pleasure to have you all lose with me," he growled low. "Unless you believe your pet wizard can stop mister Stone from killing you all?"

"No," Ford admitted readily, then pointed at the opposite side of the docks. "That's what he's for."

Seven tons of niuhi, teeth and talons and blue striped skin on a frame made of nothing but muscle, charged through the side of the building as if it weren't there. The wereshark crashed into the golem, who barely had time to turn, shoving off Parker and Jessamine to try and put up a defense. They both went flying into and through one of the yachts and into the water with a tremendous splash.

Parker threw herself over Jess; Fedorov covered Baba Yaga with his body. Koschei clenched his hands and let out a furious, wordless yowl, magic gathering around him like a storm, hungry and deadly.

"Dresden!" Nate yelled.

The wizard shoved the mastermind against the back wall, took a step forward and pointed his wand down, shouting a single word. "Forzare!"

The dock exploded. Boards went to splinters as if a giant fist had smashed into them from on high, showering the water with hail; the last of the lights exploded into brilliant sparks. Both Dresden and Koschei plummeted into the frothing surf.

Parker dragged Jess into the boat-house proper, where Sophie, who'd never actually left the boat-house, was waiting for them; the grifter slammed the door shut behind them. "So he's a bad grifter and a sore loser," she declared archly. "Who's surprised. Are you both alright?"

"I think so." Parker was far more concerned with her friend than with herself. "Jess?"

"I'm alright," the young curator wheezed. "Did that man just blow up the dock?"

"It gets complicated," Parker replied tightly before turning to Sophie. "Eliot and Hardison?"

The hitter had just poked his head out of the other yacht, to stare in stunned disbelief at the destruction one word and one gesture from the local wizard had wrought. Then he raced along the deck of the boat and threw his hands out. "Fedorov!"

The Russian and his companion were stranded on the only side of the docks that didn't have a door, to either the outside or the boat-house. Nate, at least, had a giant shark-shaped hole he could've used. All three of them ran for Eliot. "It seems every time we meet I have to get handsy with you, Grandmother," Vanya said in Russian, his tone light in spite of the situation. "What will you think of me."

Baba Yaga, still wearing Sophie's seeming, laughed once again, short and sharp, caught by surprise. "I will think what I already did of you," she replied cheerily.

He picked her up and helped her onto the boat, to Eliot's waiting hands, while Nate jumped onboard.

The covered dock had been built against the shallow beach by digging down and reinforcing the space with rip-rap: rocks roughly the size of a man's head. The end result was a narrow area that looked deep, but wasn't. The yachts, for all their size, didn't break six feet on draft. At its deepest part the channel leading to the dock was fifteen feet, just outside the building. From there it angled up precipitously until it reached the more-or-less solid ground where the mansion's gardens began.

Which meant Dresden, who'd been closer to the artificial shore, could actually stand up abruptly from among the flotsam, choking and bedraggled like a half-drowned cat, climbing up the slope toward the hole the niuhi had left in the wall.

"Dresden!" Nate shouted a warning.

The wizard turned, thrown off-balance by his waterlogged clothing, just in time to throw his hand up and empower the feather-shield as actinic fire came boiling out at him from the water. It sloshed around the shield, making it ripple, pouring around and over it like poisonous syrup, and wherever it splashed the torn wood, drywall and plastic of the building crackled, froze and shattered.

Koschei, looking like a bird that's gone for a bath it neither planned nor wanted, rose to the surface of the churning water and stepped lightly on it. It froze where he went in awkward little waves. "I am going to make a footstool out of you, Dresden," the Blackbird hissed.

"No, thanks," Leverage's wizard replied blithely. "Not a fan of chintz."

The second yacht suddenly went stumbling sideways with an almighty crunch, crashing hard into the section of the dock that was still standing. Everyone on board stumbled. "Nate!" Eliot called out. "We're taking on water!"

A gale of wind came out of nowhere and threw Koschei back in the water. Dresden managed to scrabble onto solid ground and tried to race for the boat-house.

A massive sheet of ice erupted from the deep end of the docks and raced forward, jagged and vast, locking everything in its grip, flotsam, the sinking yacht, the ruins of its twin. Harry slipped and went down, and only one of the boat-house's walls stopped him, none too gently. The ice stopped the yacht from further going down for a moment, but then a hand punched through the ice and grabbed the aft ladder, and the boat groaned and shifted uneasily as mister Stone dragged himself partially out of the water, his fancy clothes in tatters.

Koschei passed up through the ice as if he were a ghost, power seething around him.

"Kostya!" Grandmother shouted in Russian. "Do not do this! You know how the stories always end. Let it go!"

"I have not come this far to give up now because of a fairy tale!" he spat at her before turning to Dresden and switching to English. "How dare you believe you, any of you, can stand against me."

"Reasons abound," the younger wizard wheezed. He'd managed to roll to his feet, ready to take on whatever spell the Blackbird threw at him.

But instead of attacking, Koschei drew the twisted, blackened staff out of nowhere and gestured at the ice, drawing up a mirror-perfect, thin sheet of ice the size of a door. Nate, from the boat, saw Harry's eyes go wide. A gout of fire came from the wizard, but Koschei threw up a shield as he spoke in a rough, growling tongue.

The mastermind exhaled sharply, and saw his breath come out as a plume in what should have been Boston's warm summer air, and the world slowed down to a crawl, ringing faintly against his ears. The darkness gleamed like reflections from a jewel, shattering all around him.

There would be no more comfortable lies for him. There would be no more denying. There were two wizards fighting on a plane of ice not fifty feet from him. A man that wasn't one was trying to climb onto their boat to get away from a shark that liked to walk as a man. The world was not what it seemed, it never had been, and Nathan Ford could no longer pretend that he knew all that there was to know. Leshy sprang out of the portal Koschei had summoned out of nowhere, and reality slammed back into place for the mastermind. So be it. If the world must change, he would change with it. The job still needed to be done. "Hardison, now!"

Leshy, Dresden had explained, were creatures of the Nevernever, the elusive world that paralleled Nate's own. But they were of neither. Unaffiliated fairies that only barely looked to Summer, they had no rules, but also no protection beyond their own numbers. Their behavior was defined by their nature, and their nature was that of a hare, always ready for a fight, to kick and bite - and always on the lookout for predators.

Hardison, just outside the hole in the wall, pulled out of his pocket the phone he'd gotten from the spider. In the seething maelstrom of magical energies coming from the boat-house it was the only piece of technology that was still working. He used it to remotely drive not Lucille 2.0 but the u-Haul van, the back of which was full of things he'd hardly ever thought he'd get to use, like cathode tubes and transistors the size of his fist. He had one screen, one radio transmitter, a keyboard that was so profoundly and mechanically loud he twitched at the very thought of having to use it.

And Mouse.

A black, sleek, unmarked van would have immediately pinged the awareness of the security staff at the mansion. But people are used to seeing u-Haul vans. They're used for much more than just moving, on reason of being both cheap and basically indestructible. The doors might not close, the brakes might need pumping, the gas might stick at fifty, a hundred things might be broken in it, but by golly it will get you from Point A to Point B, somehow. By the time the u-Haul van made it down the driveway and jumped the curb onto the perfectly manicured lawn, it was too late for security to stop it, and most of them were busy trying to keep the guests from leaving, anyway.

The hacker brought the van to a rattling, skidding stop next to the hole in the wall and opened a door, and the young Temple mastiff catapulted out with a snarl that brought the hackles up on every creature in the boat-house, even if they didn't have them. The leshy coming through the portal froze, every head whipping around to that sound.

Eliot took a running start and shoulder-checked Stone off the yacht. The hitter rebounded and fell on his back, stunned, his shoulder on fire, but Stone, his balance too precarious, went flying back and crashed through the sheet of ice, sinking like, well, a stone.

Mouse barked. It sounded like a gun going off. The leshy turned and tried to sprint back into the portal, but Koschei destroyed with a furious litany of curses. The fairy thugs scattered instead and the Russian wizard turned to point his staff at the dog gleefully chasing panicking rabbits all over the place. A beautiful right cross caught him on the cheek and sent him flying onto the last bit of the docks abutting the boat-house, too stunned to make a sound, unable to breathe, his staff flying out of his hands.

Vanya Fedorov, wearing the blessed silver knuckles, slipped lightly on the ice and climbed after the wizard with cold, deadly murder in his face. "I will not be sold," he said in Russian. His voice was lethally calm, his teeth gritted. Koschei made the mistake to try and get up, and Fedorov punched him again, sending him sprawling inelegantly. "I will not trust my fate to a man who sees me as a toy. I am not your pawn to be offered to your friends for favors, for power, for wealth."

"You are an ill-mannered child -" Koschei threw up a shield as he struggled to his knees.

Vanya brought up his other hand and punched right through the shimmering energy as if it were not there; the knuckles on that one were lead and iron. "This child knows how to make allies, rather than buying loyalty with fear and lies. I know that sometimes the truth is all you need. So here is some truth for you, Blackbird: stay down, or I will make you stay down."

Koschei struggled to draw one breath. "I will see you all dead for this," he gasped, turning on his back, lifting himself up on his elbows. He grinned manically up at the Russian enforcer. "You would be a hero, would you, little prince," he hissed in Russian. "Very well. Let's see what sort of a hero, you are."

The portal opened just shy of the nets that festooned the naked beams of the roof. A low, seething sound, the rasping of scales against scales, filled the air, and the chaos came to a complete halt in the blink of an eye.

A mass of shifting coils, each one as large around as a man, appeared out of nowhere and began to descend. Green and black, they glowed with an inner, vitriolic light, as if of a fire burning behind stained glass. There was no beginning or end to them.

Very clearly, in the abrupt silence, everyone heard Dresden's voice. "Oh, crap."

The leshy bolted. The dog, that eternal enemy, was suddenly not the top of their priorities. They trampled everything and everyone, including each other, in their panicked haste.

"What is it?" Nate asked of the false Sophie next to him.

"Zmei Gorynich," she replied, staring. "A Great Serpent."

Eliot didn't like the sound of that. At all. "A f- He - He called up a friggin' dragon?!"

The mass of coils began to disentangle itself, spreading out as it descended. Rippling vanes, sails stitched onto jutting, dagger-like bone, unfolded along its sides. A dry, cruel heat was beginning to radiate from it, a pervasive scent filling the air, of forests burnt to ash, homes reduced to rubble and coal.

"A young one, but yes."

Eliot didn't even know what to say to that.

"Out, now," Nate commanded. "Off the boat. We need solid ground."

"You will not ask me to help?" she asked him, curious and surprised.

"Well, we're here to rescue you," the mastermind pointed out as they all rushed to the other side of the yacht, where the ice and violence had pressed the deck of it closer to what was left of the docks. "Seems kind of rude to make you work for it."

She looked terribly amused.

"Besides, can you?"

"No. I do not have the power to singe his hair right now." She looked at the zmei. "But you do not need me anyway."

The zmei hadn't even fully uncoiled itself when Leverage's wizard shouted something out and force, invisible and irresistible, slammed it back up through the roof, canoes and kayaks, netting and roofing flying everywhere and launching the creature entirely out of sight.

THIRTY EIGHT

I had honestly thought that, even for Koschei, the Golden Bear was it. The limit. I could barely wrap my head around a wizard being able to summon what is basically a sort of, kind of, almost demi-god from the Nevernever.

I hadn't expected him to be able to summon two.

My first gut response was to try and throw the dragon back through the portal that had brought it in, but Koschei had already closed it. I saw Fedorov flatten the wizard one last time, but it was too late. The dragon was here, and it was here to stay. Unconscious or not, the Blackbird had cut a deal with it, and I very much doubted anyone there had a counteroffer it would be willing to consider.

I wasn't sure if the dragon of Russian fairy tales was an actual dragon. The name translates to a sort of serpent, Bob had explained to me. They're treacherous, cunning, greedy. Unlike the Golden Bear, which can be impressed into joining the good guys occasionally, the Great Serpent doesn't care to serve any interests but its own. They can spit fire, poison or ice, sometimes weirder things, like lightning or a combination of elements. Their scales can only be pierced by magic or by their own power, mirrored back at them, which was how they were defeated in most stories.

You know, typical fairy-tale dragon bullshit.

We were, once again, as outgunned as we'd been at the museum.

Mouse rushed to my side, staring up at the hole along with me. The dragon escaped my blast and came arrowing down, hissing like an angry teakettle. It wasn't fast, I noted distractedly. Agile, yes, it could turn on a dime. But it wasn't particularly quick when it flew, and I would have bet money it was because in mid-air it couldn't get proper traction. It touched down on the ice and it melted instantly. As it looked down in surprise, lifting up once again, I gestured at it with my bad hand. "Frigitas."

Ice closed in on it, the water freezing once again, trapping the gleaming coils. I didn't have my staff, and I'm much better with fire, but I didn't need a fine touch at the moment. I needed to hit hard, hit fast, and hit anything I could. I was counting on Boston to help me along, to maybe slow it down some.

I wasn't counting on the North Atlantic to pitch in.

I'd felt it the moment I'd fallen in the water. I'm used to the Lake; like I'd told Leverage, it's good for grounding magic, for getting your bearings, throwing off excess energy, that kind of thing. I'd tapped a storm once, felt the power of it coursing through me and I'd known then that it could kill me if I so much as blinked. You don't mess with Mother Nature unless you're willing to take your licks. But this was the ocean, the planet for all intents and purposes. We humans like to think that the dirt we stand on is the ruling principle of the world, just like we like to believe we're the ruling species. We're wrong on both counts. True power was the seething tide trapped beneath the ice just under my feet. Even Boston,with its neverending trickle of energy, was nothing compared to it. The storm had given me a chance; the North Atlantic wouldn't even notice snuffing me out.

Ice rose in jagged teeth, raced over the zmei, caught its coils and blew up in clouds of overheated steam, water sublimating, going directly from solid to gas. The serpent whistled in fury and pain, thrashing, sending chunks of ice flying in every direction. It turned on me; its eyes were a goat's, and somehow that made them even more unreasonably unpleasant on that long reptilian muzzle. Gills opened along its neck, and I threw my shield up, going down on one knee to try and brace myself. If the thing breathed poison I, and everyone else there, would be flat out of luck; no shield would stop that.

Instead, lightning crashed into my shield and sent me skidding back, sprays of sparks bursting out of the bracelet. The zmei paused after a moment, when it realized it was not getting through, head cocked and sails fluttering lightly. Electricity was crackling all over it, occasionally reaching a jagged line to touch the beams above, the boat-house, the walls - wherever metal or, more likely, the electrical systems in the structures nearby called to it.

"Koldun," it whispered, its voice a low, barely audible breeze.

"That's me," I admitted.

It blew another blast at me. My shield was still holding, but the bracelet was getting awfully warm.

The zmei stopped, this time in answer to movement out of the corner of its eye, where it had just seen the three people hiding behind the second yacht. Before it could get any ideas, I took the chance to give my shield a break, threw my hand up and called up the power thrumming just under my feet. "Aestus!

Water roared upward in a broad column, filled with blocks of ice as my improvised attack further shattered the sheet of ice Koschei had created. The zmei got thrown hard against the beams of the ceiling, and then crashed down onto the water when I let go of my spell. It launched itself a me, moving through the air like a snake moves through water. Its mouth was a nightmare of way too many teeth. I put my shield up and it bowled me over, into Mouse, who leapt aside and snarled at it, distracting it just long enough for me to call up a gale. I battered it with every piece of debris I could snatch up; it didn't hurt it, but it did distract it. I couldn't see Fedorov or Koschei, I could only hope they'd gone inside the house. I knew Hardison was behind me unless he, too, had gone around and into the boat-house. And I had no idea if Eliot, Ford and Grandmother were still hiding behind the other boat.

Teeth like filleting knives skid over my shield, leaving energy afterimages on it. I hadn't come prepared to take on a dragon, and even if I had, Koschei had taken most of my tools. All I had was what Parker had given me back and what Stone's people hadn't found when they frisked me: my pendant, the pin, my wand and my shield-bracelet. I was throwing magic by the seat of my pants, and while Boston could empower me, there was a limit to what even the city could do. My biggest source of power was also the most dangerous, lapping at my feet in rumpled little waves.

The zmei recoiled back and breathed lightning on me again. If I'd had my other bracelet, the one I'd improvised, I could have probably thrown at least some of that power back at it. And then I realized: I couldn't redirect that power, but I could ground it.

I was going to need a fine touch, though. When it stopped for a breath I threw a gout of fire in its face, just to make it recoil. "Mouse, find me a stick." My dog gave me such a look. "A staff! Something I can use as a staff!"

He ran off, scrabbling through the wreck I'd made of the area. I threw another shield up when the zmei came at me, dug into the power Boston was giving me and peeled off several of the big stones that lined the area, throwing them at its mouth, its eyes. I kept up a steady whirlwind loaded with shrapnel to tear at the sails on its sides; it was flying by magic, I knew that, but that magic had to be focused somewhere, and it was a little too protective of its 'wings' for me not to go for the obvious target.

It twisted and writhed, it turned into a knot and unraveled in mid-air, coming at me from every direction, its breath looking for any slip-up in my attention, growing angrier and angrier the longer I balked it. Behind it, I saw a tidal surge coming in our direction; something in my expression must have given it away, because it too turned to look and rose up for the safety of the ceiling.

The wave crested still a ways off and I saw Stone at the apex of it, struggling against something that wouldn't let him go. Nick rammed through what was left of the ice and docks; they didn't slow him down. He crashed, golem leading, into the ground, swamping the area minutely. I felt the impact through the soles of my feet. It was powerful enough that both golem and niuhi ended up partially out on the ground.

Moused whacked gently at my shin. He'd found part of an oar, the broad end gone. Tail wagging, he offered it to me.

"Good boy. Get out of here, go find Parker." A plan had come together in my head. It was a horrible plan so, you know. My usual. But I was pretty sure it was going to work. I may not be awake, or alive, at the end of it, but I was also used to that.

First things first, though. I pointed the staff at the churning water. "Aestus venitus!"

The sea answered; geysers of water rose up, hunting for the zmei. It blasted one with its breath, twisted out of the way of another. It was too busy dancing to notice I'd grabbed for my pendant, the one piece of metal I was wearing that I knew better than my own bones, and that didn't have a dedicated enchantment on it to get in the way of what I was trying to do. Through it I reached out to the first step of my plan.

All ships above a certain size need an anchor. When they get big enough, they need that anchor even when they're moored, but the yachts were small, as things go, maybe thirty, forty feet long. I didn't know if they'd been anchored to begin with, but I did know that at least in one case, it didn't matter, and that was enough. I reached out with my will to the metal of that chain, that anchor, among the wreck of the sunken yacht and somewhere in the guts of the other one.

Anchor chains are one of those things that you make out of metal both to show off and because anything else is going to get sliced through. I found them both exactly where I thought they would be.

The zmei lunged at me from the shadows of the ceiling, illuminated by its own burning inner fire. I brought my staff up and pointed it at the dragon. "Enough."

The chains came uncoiling out like vipers, one out of the water and the other blasting through the hull of the yacht, sending it further listing to that side. They darted and lunged at the zmei like living things, empowered by my will and my emotions. It tried, unsurprisingly, to breathe lightning at one of them, but the metal didn't care. The loose end punched the zmei in the face, shattered several fangs, and wound about its body like a constrictor, while its twin did the same in the opposite direction.

The dragon whistled and hissed in fury, writhing, coiling, uncoiling in every direction. I pointed my staff at the second yacht and yanked the anchor out of it, sending it tumbling into the water. When the zmei tried to breathe lightning, it instead went into the chains and into the water, where the ocean absolutely didn't care how many temper tantrums the creature threw.

The yacht was beginning to sink at an alarming rate, though, and from behind it I heard an irate "Dammit, Harry!"

"Sorry!" I yelled back at Eliot, belatedly realizing I had forgotten one key part of the plan which very much involved the yacht, namely the portrait currently stashed in it. The zmei, however, meant that plans were, unfortunately, secondary to dealing with it. The chains were holding, but the heat was rising, and I knew what that meant. Eventually the metal would simply melt, or grow soft enough for it to break its bindings. I had to get to the second half of my plan, fast. "Ford, can you hear me?" I said, hoping the little shard of enchanted mirror embedded on the pin at my throat still worked.

"Yeah!" Another shout from behind the yacht.

"Good. Get out. Now. Stone!"

The golem was trying to hold back the jaws of the niuhi as they bore down on him, Nick on all fours and pressing him down relentlessly. His clothing was mostly gone, revealing the seamless, flawless body underneath, literally. He had no wrinkles, no scars, no freckles, nothing. Not even nipples. "Wizard," the golem replied, his voice strained.

"Koschei's not your original employer, is he?"

"No. Mister Act was."

"I know a man who can make you a better offer than both of them put together."

Nick drove the golem a few inches into the shale and ground, but still couldn't get close enough to put another bite into him, taloned hands and feet digging furrows as he tried.

"Your price?"

"Walk away."

"Somewhat impossible at the moment."

"Nick, let him go."

The niuhi stepped back. It was so sudden that Stone actually nearly went down and had to catch himself on one hand. The wereshark chuckled, and it came out a horrible gargling sound. His black eyes never left the golem.

"Define walk away, wizard."

"I mean, stay if you want." I had been wearing really expensive black shoes to the party; I kicked them off and stepped barefoot into the churning water. It was shockingly cold but, beyond that, it was like touching the surface of the sun. There was so much power, so much energy, not dormant, merely untouched, answering to far more primal and basic principles than a single skinny wizard's will. I drew in as much as I dared, and then a little more. I felt as if I were coming undone, going to nothing, becoming part of that vast primordial soup, a little bit of life made to go to and fro with the pull of wind and moon and gravity. It took everything I had just to hang onto me, onto my sense of self.

I pushed.

The tide began to recede. The second yacht sank down, its hull grinding against the stones. The remains of the dock collapsed. The sounds of the surf faded.

Stone turned and ran. Nick turned, saw what I was doing and threw his arms out, laughing wildly, a deeply inhuman sound. The zmei fought wildly against its bounds.

It wasn't hard to do; that surprised me. The water, once pushed, wanted to push back. What was hard was not letting the wave become as big as it wanted to be. I pushed it back while holding onto the sides of it, trying to keep it contained, but I was a wisp of breath in a cyclone. I was not even a drop of water in the vast belly of the monster I'd awakened. Every bit of power I pulled on to try and keep control whispered at me to let go. To stop being. There would be no sorrow if I let go, no anger. There would only be the tide and the wind and the moon, the currents, the sunny shallows, the black abyssal depths. There would be no me to hurt anymore, no more loss, no more loneliness.

As offers go, I honestly can't think of many that have been so damn tempting.

But then I could push no more. The press of the water was too great, and I let go and fell back on myself. "Nick, you there?"

"Yes. I am glad to be here, wizard. To see what you have done." I felt one hand pick me up, the first awareness I had that I'd gone down on my knees. There was a low roar slowly building up all around us. The air, which the zmei had overheated, was swiftly growing cold, and a rising wind was blowing the steam of its power clear of the area.

"I'd like to remind you I need to breathe. Air. I need to breathe air."

Nick laughed cheerfully. He'd gone back to being a human, naked and tattooed and scarred. "I will not let you drown, wizard. You are far too much fun to have around." He picked me straight up in a bridal carry and ran right at the tidal wave I'd summoned. The last thing I heard was the panicked whistling of the zmei as its doom bore down on it.

#my writing #fanfiction #crossover #the dresden files #leverage #harry dresden #nathan ford #sophie deveraux #parker #alec hardison #eliot spencer #urban fantasy

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dollsonmain · 1 year

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Boring things

I was thinking maybe I should get a second mortar and pestle to break down this glitter I have into smaller glitter for MLP repairs....

The basement shower seems to not be leaking, now. I guess I’ll replace the cartridges anyway, since I already ordered them. Wasn’t me that paid for them at least. If I don’t get to share ownership of this house nor have access to real, steady work and income, I’m not buying the supplies to fix it.

There are two sets of lights in the master bathroom.

This pair which is all corroded and nasty and needs replaced but at least I can reach them with a step stool to change the bulbs (though I can’t reach any higher than that to clean them off).

And this pair which are over the tub and shower. I can’t reach the higher one at all. I also hate the color of the walls in there but can’t reach high enough to repaint.

Usually I go to bed first and turn on the over-shower lights because they’re less bright and leave the bathroom door cracked. That stops That Guy from turning on the bedroom light or stumbling through the dark to the bathroom and making a lot of noise.

Last night I forgot the bulb in the lower one was acting up, flipped the switch, went “Oh yeah...” turned it off, and it stayed lit up for 3 seconds before fading away...

That’s fucking weird.

So like..... Am I going to get zapped when I go to change the bulb????

The luminescent or phosphor layer of LED or the LED driver keeps some energy stored for some moment. You can easily check if this is the cause or not. Quickly remove the LED from the socket just after switching off. See, if the LED glows dimly or not. If it does, then this is due to the residual energy stored in the LED phosphor layer or in the components of the LED driver circuit. If the light doesn’t glow when removed from the socket, then the problem may lie with the Electrical Installation circuit.

Oh, ok....

Do I even have a bulb...... Did you know you have to use special bulbs in bathrooms? They have to be designed for wet/humid places or outdoors, and if you have an enclosed fixture like these, you also need bulbs rated for closed containers because they need to be able to withstand their own heat output.

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mickgaydolenz · 1 year

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so I was dressed like a HOBBIT in a mud and stone house mashing salt in a pestle and mortar while @paramountives was behind me humming while they cooked a soup over a fire and they tapped my shoulder and asked me if I wanted to add more mushrooms or anything like that and I asked if we had any onions, we didn't, so we just finished making the soup and ate it out of these wooden bowls and talked about what we should do today, are we gonna garden, should we hike to town and buy some essentials, are we gonna spend our day working on our winter clothing, yadda yadda, and then Tobie and I decided we just wanted to have a lovely happy together day and we held hands and walked around the woods together and sometimes we'd climb a tree and sING A SONG💗🍄💗🍄💗(love that) and then we'd keep walking, then we came home and played some guitar together and warmed up the soup we had for breakfast and laid on our bed while we waited and read together.

THEN the next day me and them decided to go get more stuff to clean our clothes with from town so we got out of our silly little hobbits clothes and put on our regular not goblin soulmates living in the woods clothes and went to this grocery mart and just started grabbing things we thought we'd need. but here's the thing. we only had ten dollars. so I, like the genius I am, said that we should just forget about it and be gross until we found more cash. but they said that I was going to buy the grapes, and when I put them in the bag take the bag and put it in my right hand and they'll slip in the things we bought. and that WORKED. so we thought of hiking back to our hobbit house in the middle of the woods but instead we walked around town and it was very fun because we held hands and ALSO we both had heart tattoos on our hands so when we did hold hands our hearts were touching and that was so very nice...then as the sun set we hiked back home and I woke up

raya that is such a lovely dream oh my goooooooddddd 🥹💖!! what a nice change from your others ones that have been plaguing you lately!!

#so cute!!! love this man #raya’s dreams :)#rhubarb asks

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scalpel-mom-mori · 2 years

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in the footsteps of god

an old friend and a harmless prank.

Featuring auntie Baizhu

“Working this late, Fei-jie?”

She picked up her basket with a smile. “I have no one to return to, Dafu. I can have my dinner as late in the day as I please.”

Baizhu offered her a sly smile. “Why don’t you stay in the harbor for the evening? Surely there’s someplace here with food that’s to your taste.”

She brushed him off, moving wash out a mortar and pestle set. “Meals out are more fun when you have someone to go with,” she replied easily.

“And a charming girl like you hasn’t anyone in this city that’ll accompany you for the night? I can hardly believe it.”

She threw him a disbelieving glance over a shoulder, but he was writing reports for the day. “Charming is hardly a word I’d use for myself,” she deadpanned. “Perhaps if a man is charmed by botany and rock climbing he’d like me, otherwise I can’t imagine.”

“Your expertise is rather on the unusual side, I’ll agree, but don’t sell yourself short, Fei-jie. I have a name or two that might be interested to be your host for the evening.” This time he caught the incredulous look she gave him and laughed. “You’re so cute,” he said. “And how could I forget that penchant for Qingce history? I ought to introduce you to Zhongli-xiansheng.”

At this, she choked and nearly dropped the mortar in her hands. “There’s no need for that.”

“Oh, do you know him already? Perfect.”

“We’ve met,” she allowed like the words tasted bad. She set out the mortar and pestle to dry.

Baizhu was smiling at her with a knowing look in his eye. “That makes my job much easier then,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll have Qiqi get him now.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said flatly. “I appreciate the offer, Dafu, but I was hoping to head home and get cooking and have dinner before tomorrow creeps up on me. Besides, that notice is far too short.”

He sighed, affecting disappointment, eyes gleaming mischief all the while. “Well, I’ll have him plan for the harvest festival this year.”

She paled. “Do not,” she snapped. “That’s much too far out! And you know he’ll remember too-!”

Baizhu laughed again from behind a teasingly conspiratorial hand over his mouth. “Oh my, you really do know him quite well. Is there something I’m missing?”

She glared openly at him. “Excuse me, Dafu. I’ll be back next week with your order.”

“Please do,” he called after her as she left in a huff.

Fortune, it appeared, was not on her side. Of all things, betrayed by her own domain. “Your timing is impeccable.” Momentarily forgetting she was in public, she whirled to face Zhongli’s voice. “My, you’re more flustered than I’ve seen you in centuries. Did something happen?”

For a long moment, she could only stare in shock. “Nothing,” she said, shaking off her surprise. “I’m going to go home to get cooking.” She jumped when his fingers locked around her wrist, with reflexes much faster than his leisurely walks around the harbor might suggest.

“We haven’t spoken in a while,” he said, “I’ll treat you to dinner.”

Fei tried to pull away, but he stared her down with that intense determination of his, and so she sighed. “What do you want?”

He smiled at her, a teasing, knowing look, and Fei had to wonder that sort of man was never able to leave her be. “Am I not allowed to coerce an old friend to spend the evening with me?”

She sighed again. “It’s just unusual for you to come looking for me, is all. I thought once a year is plenty of time for you to harass me to your heart’s content.”

“‘To my heart’s content’?” he echoed. “You underestimate how terrible I’d be if I had license to bother you to my heart’s content, Fei.”

She tried to reply, but no words came to her, leaving her to stare at him in shock. “Somehow you’ve only gotten worse after all this time,” she sighed finally, pulling away when his grip went slack as he watched her amusedly.

“Come, Heyu Teahouse has a happy hour for tea around the dinner rush. Or I’ll buy you a drink if you prefer.”

“Zhongli, they’re staring at us,” Fei said from behind her cup.

He only looked amused. “Are they? Just ignore them.”

She made a face at him. “How crass of you,” she said, finally having her shot at a joke. “In public, too.”

“Someone’s feeling mean today,” he mused. “You’ve grown short-tempered recently. You used to be so sweet when we were younger.”

Fei choked on her drink, going red in the face, and he laughed at her, warm and affectionate. “You-!” The other guests were definitely staring now. Staring and whispering to each other. “You really have no shame, do you, saying things like that?”

“Fei, do you know what day today is?”

She blinked slowly at him. “Thursday?”

He laughed in an affectionately patronizing sort of way. “I see.” Sweetly, to the waiter delivering their dinner, he said, “Would you mind telling my friend here, what tonight’s tale will be? She doesn’t come here often.”

The waiter smiled warmly at the two of them, though not without some suspicion at the word ‘friend.’ “Tonight, Liu-boshi is recounting the tale of the Weaver Girl and the Cowheard.”

Fei offered the waiter a truly terrifying smile. “Thank you. Would you fetch us a fresh pot of tea?” As soon as he’d gone, she turned back to Zhongli. “You had this all planned out, didn’t you?”

He only smiled, pleased and amused. “A certain jiangshi informed me earlier that Bubu Pharmacy was receiving a delivery from our favorite herbalist today, so I thought to myself, why not tease her a little?”

Fei’s knuckles went white on her teacup. “You really are terrible,” she said. “You’d better make it up to me, ruining my evening like this.”

“Sui-boshi is an excellent storyteller,” he tried, knowing full well it wouldn’t work.

“That’s hardly your doing,” she replied. “And before you say you bought dinner, that was part of the plan.”

“Take a walk with me. This city’s changed since you’ve been here visiting in earnest.”

She sighed. “If you insist.”

#fortune favor you

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nichlx · 8 months

Text

botanical rhythms

Materials: Roses, Gum Arabic, Watercolor Paper

Dimensions (estimated): 60 inches x 11 inches

I wanted to explore rhythm in a way that was not random, more polished and having a more refined look. I decided on the song 'baiser', which is an instrumental track from revolutionary girl utena. It is a reprise of the song 'A Sunlit Garden', which is about roses. I decided to make this the natural object I would use to paint my paper. When I went out to buy the flowers, there was only a bouquet available. I felt like I should use all of the resources I had got, so I decided to make my ink from the roses as well. (This was a bit too ambitious for me, but I was committed to the theme of only using roses as my material.) I bought watercolor binder from the store, the only non homemade material I used on this piece (besides my watercolor paper).

Making the paint was actually extremely difficult and I did not have the correct materials. As the roses were fresh, I could not grind them into a dust and mix that with my watercolor binder. I tried microwaving them slowly in thin layers, but became frustrated when this both failed to dehydrate them fully and took a very long time. I experimented with putting a lot of the rose petals into a bowl and microwaving them for a minute, but this caused condensation and made the rose petals too hot to touch. Eventually I ended up throwing the petals into a convection oven and burning them. Once I had enough dried (and unfortunately burnt) petals, I ground them into a very fine dust using a mortar and pestle. By this point in the process it was nearly 12 AM, and I was beginning to realize that this project was not just about the final piece but about the process of experimentation as well. With my leftover petals, I stuffed them into a glass of boiling water and started mashing them as much as possible. I attempted to soak the color out of the petals, which gave me a very weak color. In the end I used an emulsifier to get a very wet paste of rose petals and water, which I strained to get just a somewhat pigmented color. After this, I mixed my dry rose dust with the watercolor binder and added my rose liquid to get a lighter and warmer color as desired.

The final piece -

#midterm

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baokim80 · 1 year

Text

Welcome to my magic potion shop, you need potions to fight monsters? Do you need anything? Don’t worry, I collected all of the elements and items from different areas and I got…

Fire Potion, be careful it’s so hotter, it boiling in the pot and it is from Volcano Valley.

The element is fire, we throw potions into enemies and use gloves to hold the potion.

Caution: don’t drink the fire potion, it burned your mouth, and don’t throw it into your body and your hit points bar is losing your health, go to water like lakes and rivers after fires out go to the healing fountain for your hit points.

P.S. Fire Potion is a weapon, not a healing potion.

Ok, next up is…

Mushroom Potion tastes like a mushroom but is good in soup, mushroom is a food that is edible and is from Enchanted Forest.

A mushroom is not an element, it is a food to collect edible mushrooms to pour into the pot and use the ingredients to make the dish. The mushrooms are also used to cook the dish with vegetables and other ingredients to make it easier more delicious and flavorful dishes.

First, go to Enchanted Forest and look for edible mushrooms don’t pick up the wild mushrooms, they are poisonous and make you sick with dizziness, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea, go to a medical tent to heal your health. Second, go to the campsite to search the food. Third, you are used to cooking the food and mushrooms or mushroom potion into a pot to boil and stir the mixture in the pot after the soup is ready pour the bowl with mushrooms and the soup is delicious and you can add the herbs and spices too.

Next up…

Star Potion, you get energy and speed with the power getting faster, it is from the Moon Field.

Stars are an element because they are made of the very hot. This gas is mostly hydrogen and helium, which are the two lightest elements. Stars shine by burning hydrogen into helium in their core and, later in their lives create heavier elements.

Go to Moon Field at nighttime then come to the moon and see the stars in the sky and see the stargazing at the sky and the one star shining in the sky and you can see, shooting stars in the field the stars are into the ground and you grab the stars and then you use mortar and pestle to make the stardust-like dusty material found between the stars and stardust into the potion bottle mix the water and stir the potion and then it is ready and you make star potion.

Next up is…

Frog Potion, you taste weird and you turn into a frog and can leap high.

Frog Potion is an item from the witch on the Dark Swamp. If someone drinks it, they'll become a frog. First, fight the monsters in the locations, second, go to a witch shop in the Dark Swamp, third, give the witch coins to buy a Frog Potion, and fourth, the witch purchase you a Frog Potion.

I went to the Dark Swamp when I was a party member of the team because I was a mage, I met the witch in the shop near to camp, I bought the frog potion from the witch, and I saw two frogs in green liquid on the potion bottle.

Next up is…

Water Breathing Potion, you can breathe underwater after using the water-breathing potion.

Recipe for Water Breathing Potion, make a brewing stand from a craft table, first, add water from a lake, river, and ocean to the bottle, the second add Blaze Rod to powder, third, nether wart from Nether Portal, last, puffer fish from the ocean, and finally you make water breathing potion.

Sleep Potion,

#picrew #potions #witchcore #magic #magic potion #fantasy #fantasy rpg

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longslot · 2 years

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Pesto pasta recipe

Thai basil is really the only kind that's too pungent for this recipe. When buying fresh basil, look for vibrant green leaves with no sports or wilting. You need fresh basil leaves to make pesto. But its flavor is very different from fresh basil. It's fun to use a mortar and pestle, but the modern way is much easier.ĭried basil is fine for flavoring sauces, soups, and other dishes. The most popular variety of pesto now is made by "crushing" basil, garlic, pine nuts, olive oil and some hard cheese in a food processor or blender, but there are many varieties of pesto like sun dried tomato pesto or kale pesto. It dates back from Roman times when Genoans would crush walnuts with herbs and garlic. Pesto should have a little texture to it so be careful not to puree it Taste and adjust the salt and pepper if needed. Season chicken with salt and pepper, to taste. Heat remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Pulse the ingredients together until well blended. While the food processor or blender is running, drizzle in the olive oil and continue blending, scraping down the sides as needed, until the pesto is puréed. In a food processor or blender, combine the basil leaves, Parmesan cheese, garlic, toasted pine nuts, kosher salt and pepper. Chicken, shrimp and sausage are our personal favourites but you can add any protein you like.Originally from Genoa, Italy, pesto traces its name to the Italian word "pestare," which means "to crush or pound." For hundreds of years, pesto was made by pounding the ingredients in a mortar and pestle. Place everything in the food processor and pulse until combined. In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook pasta according to package instructions drain well. In a food processor or blender, combine the basil leaves, Parmesan cheese, garlic, toasted pine nuts, kosher salt and pepper. Add the chicken pieces and sauté until the chicken is slightly browned on the outside. Add 2 Tbsp butter to a deep skillet and melt over medium heat. Its great on pasta, baked potatoes, pizza, or bread. Cut one pound of boneless, skinless chicken breast into 1-inch pieces. This recipe is perfect as is for an easy vegetarian meal, but we often add protein to the pasta or on the side. Homemade pesto is one of the best ways to enjoy a bounty of fresh basil. Another good option is gnocchi! What to serve with creamy pesto pasta Small shapes like shells or bow ties work well as well as longer noodles like fettucine. You can choose any pasta shape you like for serving up with with this creamy pesto sauce. Add the cooked pasta and toss it all together, using reserved pasta water if needed to thin out sauce.Once it begins to bubble, add the milk or cream and whisk until the sauce thickens.it’s definitely a crowd-pleaser (even the pickiest eaters I know like pesto)Ĭreamy pesto sauce is made by combining a traditional pesto sauce with cream or milk.the recipe uses simple ingredients you likely have on hand.While the pasta is cooking, heat a frying pan and add oil. it takes only 20 minutes from start to finish Creamy chicken pesto pasta recipe Cook pasta as per pack directions.I prefer to use my homemade Basil Pesto, whether I make it fresh or go into my freezer stash (details on how I freeze pesto in the post linked above). When we first went to Italy, we experienced what pesto pasta should really taste like, over the years we’ve experimented and while this isn’t strictly traditional, we think you’ll agree that it’s absolutely delicious Why you’ll love this pasta recipe. He tosses it with delicate angel hair pasta for a flavorful. Treat yourself to the perfect midweek meal with our creamy, nutty pesto al pasta recipe. You can use jarred pesto for this or make your own. Tyler's simple, classic pesto sauce comes together with just 5 ingredients (plus a little salt and pepper). What I also love about this dish? It’s ready in 20 minutes! Perfect for busy weeknights and with simple ingredients I always have on hand. Ingredients 1 x 500g pack courgettes 1 tbsp olive oil 50g young spinach 2 garlic cloves 2 tbsp lemon juice 75g Parmesan (or vegetarian alternative). Clearly, I named my blog Herbs & Flour for a reason! This creamy pesto pasta is one of those dishes that I absolutely love for its herby, nutty flavour all thanks for basil pesto. When it comes to herby dishes, I am in heaven.

#Pesto pasta recipe

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15-dogs · 3 years

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new hire |n.s.|

pairing: newt scamander x apothecary!reader

summary: you’re hired as the new apothecary at newt’s favorite establishment, and he finds himself attending the store more often to buy more and more ridiculous, unneeded items (all the fluff!! coffeeshop (technically apothecary) au, pining)

warnings: none

guide: (Y/N) = your name, italics = writing

word count: 3.9K

a/n: this is my take on a coffeeshop au!! i feel like newt would be more subject to visiting apothecaries than coffeeshops so i used all the basics of a coffeeshop au and changed it to an apothecary!! i hope you like it :)

Newt was positive that his Dittany was somewhere. He shook every drawer upside down, went upstairs to check his bedroom, back downstairs to turn every stone for the second time, then back upstairs to recheck his belongings before he admitted that he was out of it.

He huffed, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he debated whether or not to pick up Dittany then. He ultimately decided that he didn’t want to risk getting into an accident where it was crucial to have on hand and come up empty so he threw on his vest and coat, making his way towards the apothecary store down the street. It was a small place disguised as a pharmacy on the outskirts of Diagon Alley. The building wouldn’t appear to muggles as it truly was, allowing for wizards to slip in and out unnoticed.

“Oliphant & Bailey’s Medicinal Supply” was painted onto a metal sign that swung outside the store, the metal sign bracket whining every time the wind would pass. Newt smiled at the familiar words before entering, being greeted with the smell of fresh herbs that were drying out on racks by the door.

His eyes scanned the jars along the shelves, finding the Dittany hidden off to the side from everything else. He let out a content sigh as he attempted to snatch it off the shelf but it didn’t budge. Newt looked around the store with confusion and finally realized just how crowded the place was.

“Mr. Scamander!” a woman called out. Newt whipped around, finding Vancity Oliphant with a trail of boxes floating behind her, her dress robes pressed to perfection. “We haven’t seen you around here in quite some time. Where have you been?”

“Busy, mostly.” Newt shrugged, fiddling with his hands.

Vancity began to twist her wand, various potions flying onto the shelves. “Well, one thing’s for certain: we missed you. We’ve been getting an increase in business recently--” Vancity turned towards Newt, leaning in close “--the whole nonsense that that man, Lockhart, has spun has everyone panicked. He told them that if they don’t turn to holistic medicine, then there would be a greater chance that they would be attacked by a troll. Ridiculous, sure, but business has been outstanding! We even had to get a new hire!”

Newt gave her a placating nod, hoping that the conversation would be over soon. “Right, that’s fantastic-”

“Isn’t it?” Vancity rounded the counter and beckoned Newt to follow her, passing the people in the line who seemed to have been waiting for quite some time. “Anyway, how can I help you, Mr. Scamander?”

Newt nearly sighed with relief at the question finally being asked. “I tried to pick some Dittany up off the shelf, but it wouldn’t budge-”

“About that,” Vancity let out a low breath, dipping her head with disappointment. “With the uptick in sales, we’ve had an uptick in accidents. People were knocking our things off the shelves and it just took too much time to clean up and rebrew and whatnot. So we fixed everything down. Only employees can pick things off the shelf.” Vancity snatched a slip of paper, quill, and inkwell off the counter and slid them towards Newt. “We started to provide customers with these sheets so they can fill out what they need and we pick it up for them.”

Newt, knowing that the sooner it would all be over the better, simply nodded and began to fill out the form. Vancity chuckled before taking the form in her hands.

“One vial of Dittany coming right up, Mr. Scamander.” And just like that, she disappeared into the back room.

Newt glanced around the store and wondered if there was anything else he needed before he left. He spotted a few herbs off in the corner that might be of use but, as his gaze caught on the already irritated line, he decided it was in his best interest to pick them up another time.

“Mr.-...Sarmander?” a voice called out.

Newt whipped around, taken by surprise by the new face. Your face. He felt a strange sensation in his chest when he looked at you, like a sense of warmth had flooded through him. You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering why he had been staring at you for so long.

“Are you Mr. Sarmander?” you repeated, shaking the bottle of Dittany in your hand.

“Scamander,” he corrected as he approached you.

Your cheeks heated up at the mistake. “My apologies, Mr. Scamander. I just read what was off the paper but apparently I wasn’t looking closely enough.”

“I have truly terrible handwriting.” That was a lie. Newt didn’t know where it came from. “Thank you.”

“Have a lovely afternoon, Mr. Scamander!”

He would have one now.

•••

Newt was having some trouble making progress on his novel in the next few days. He had barely drafted a page of anything because he was too focused on the interaction that the two of you had only 4 days prior.

He knew you were kind. He could see it in your eyes. Even if he only spoke to you for just a moment, he knew it was true. And you had a lovely smile. One that was so lovely you must’ve flashed it at everyone and left them thinking about it as much as Newt was.

Newt shook his head, breaking himself from the trance he was in to look at his blank page. Writer’s block was not faring well with him. So he stood up and threw his jacket on, realizing he could do with the fresh air. As he was leaving his house, he stopped short in the doorway, snatching some money from his kitchen table. He might as well grab some more herbs while he was out.

No more than 15 minutes later Newt was entering Oliphant & Bailey’s. The store was empty for once, but he figured it would be for a Monday morning. Newt made his way to the counter, rocking back and forth as he awaited an attendant. To his dismay, Rita Bailey revealed herself from the back room.

“Mr. Scamander!” she cried. Rita leaned over the counter, furiously shaking his hands in hers. “How have you been?” Newt opened his mouth but she didn’t give him time to answer before she was speaking again.

“I heard you were in here a few days ago. It’s not often that we see you in here twice a week. Are you out on something?” Rita’s eyes widened as she seemed to beat her own question in her head. She leaned unbearably close over the counter and whispered, “Is your Swooping Evil not producing? Because Vance and I have some products in the back. Stuff on the side, if you-”

Vancity, who stood in the doorway of the office, cleared her throat, calling the attention of her partner. Rita’s head whipped around, a sheepish grin plastered on her face.

“Rita,” began Vancity, her voice stern, “I need you in back to help with the budget.”

Rita stood to her full height, motioning towards Newt. “Well, who’s gonna help Scamander, then?”

Vancity leaned into her office, speaking to someone with a jerk of head towards the shop. There was a muffled reply and the sound of shoes clicking against hardwood, pacing around the back room.

Newt’s heart began to beat just a little faster. He didn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing. Then he caught himself. What was he getting his hopes up for? He wasn’t expecting anything, and he certainly didn’t care if you were there or not. It’s not like the back of his neck flushed and his cheeks started to heat up when he saw you exiting the back room.

“Mr. Scamander,” you stated. Newt let out a shaky breath; your voice was so smooth, the words sounded almost practiced as they fell from your lips.

You brushed one hand off on the little apron that was tied around your waist and the other was used to magic a quill and inkwell onto the counter. You reached into your apron to pull out a slip of paper, dotting your quill into the ink. “How can I help you today?”

“I need some ingredients,” he shot out quickly, looking down at the counter.

You chuckled softly as you scribbled in a box, drawing his attention upwards. “What kinds of ingredients?”

Newt took in a sobering breath as you finally met his gaze. For a moment, he forgot what he came there for. “Mandrake root and Moonflower Pollen.”

You gave him a dutiful nod as you jotted the items down. You tossed the quill and paper up in the air, the quill finding its place by the inkwell and the paper rolling itself up and flying into a cupboard below your legs.

You scooted out from behind the desk, walking up past Newt towards the racks of herbs. You picked up the dried up roots of a Mandrake, holding it up at him. “This one okay, Mr. Scamander?”

“Perfect.”

You moved to another counter, freeing a small paring knife from your apron. “I have to ask you, Mr. Scamander,” you began as you chopped up the root, “you seem to be buying a lot of medicinal supplies. Are you a Healer?”

Newt chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “No, I’m a Magizoologist.”

You halted in your motions, looking up at him. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” His response was no more than a single exhale, the words barely forming as he stared into your eyes. He finally peeled himself away from your gaze to continue. “With the creatures I work with, some healing skills are of great use.”

You hummed in response. “I can imagine.” Flicking your wand, a small mortar and pestle flew to your side. With the blade of your knife, you scooped the chopped up root into the bowl and began to grind it to a fine powder. “You know, I was always interested in Care of Magical Creatures back at Hogwarts. I was never all that good at it, though. Not like I was with Herbology.”

Newt’s eyes were trained on the root being cut up, too afraid that looking would cause him to meet your occasional glance up and make a fool of himself. “I’m actually writing a book on magical creatures at the moment.”

“Really?”

“If you’d ever like to study magical creatures again, I could give you a copy.” Newt’s heart began to flutter at the way your eyes lit up.

You stopped in your motions of preparing his Mandrake Root, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “That would be wonderful.”

After packaging up the now-crushed root into a small, beat up tin and handing it to Newt, you paced around the counter with another tin in hand. You approached a glass jar full of yellow pollen in it, using the scoop inside to portion out a generous amount.

“How’s this, Mr. Scamander?”

You tilted the tin towards him, Newt leaning in to examine the contents. Before he could answer, a quiet sneeze came from his coat. You pulled the container back, your brows furrowed as Newt became flushed. He hesitated to reach into his coat, turning to the side as he pulled Pickett, his Bowtruckle, out and scolding him just out of earshot.

“No, Pick, I didn’t forget about-...she didn’t know you were-...don’t blame this on her! She did nothing-”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted. Newt froze, cocking his head to see you practically leaning over his shoulder. “I have to ask, is that a Bowtruckle?”

Newt exchanged a glance with Pickett before popping him into his pocket, Pickett’s head resting just outside of the heavy fabric to stare you down. “Yes, he is.” You fought a giggle as you leaned down to stare at Pickett in the eyes. “He has some-”

“Attachment issues?” you finished. Newt’s eyes went wide as he gave you a nod. A smile flickered onto his lips for just a moment. You looked up at Newt from your position then stood to your full height. “I’ve heard of that being the case with Bowtruckles before.”

Newt simply nodded again, too distracted by the fact that you were just inches from his face. For just a moment he could have sworn that he saw your eyes flicker down to his lips, his breath getting caught in his throat.

“I have just the thing for your Bowtruckle,” you whispered before moving away towards another shelf.

Newt shivered and let out a sigh, his chest thundering. Finally, he realized you had moved away and followed, watching with a close eye as you broke off the tiny fruit of a strange purple herb that he couldn’t place.

“What’s his name?” you asked while you pulled the fruit into halves.

“Pickett.”

You turned around, offering a half of the fruit to Pickett. Pickett perked up, looking up at Newt for permission. You chuckled at the interaction while Newt pulled Pickett out, letting him sit on his finger.

“Well then, this is for you, Pickett.”

Pickett shared one more look with Newt before taking the fruit and gnawing on it instantly. He let out a happy squeak and jumped onto your arm, crawling up to your shoulder as he continued to snack on the fruit.

Newt let out an impressed laugh at the sight. “Pick doesn’t quite like strangers,” he explained.

You turned your head to eye the happy Bowtruckle, petting him with the pad of your index finger. “Suppose we’re not strangers anymore, are we, Pick?”

“Newt,” Newt shot out quickly. He continued to stare at his fingers while he toyed with them. “You can call me Newt.”

Newt only looked up when he saw your hand come into his field of vision, all delicate and strong. He took your extended hand and shook with careful vigor, the corner of his lips quirking upwards.

“Then consider us friends, too, Newt. I’m (Y/N).”

•••

Newt began to frequent the apothecary more often than he needed to. He always seemed to be running out of something, and he always seemed to arrive just when the rush died down. His list of items he needed appeared to grow longer and longer with each visit, but you never once gave his service to another employee.

The thought of you ran tirelessly through Newt’s head at night. His heart would beat just the slightest bit faster when he thought of that gorgeous smile you would flash him when he walked through the door, almost like you were expecting him to be there.

Oh, Merlin, and that disarming chuckle that tumbled from your lips when he would trip over his words. It instantly calmed Newt down, his stammer fading away slowly.

Distracted from his writing again, Newt decided to pay you a visit at the apothecary. He snatched the coat of the back of his chair and ran out the door, his heart getting lighter with each step towards the store. Once he arrived, he swung the door open and looked up, only to find that you weren’t there. He frowned, but approached the counter and waited.

“Mr. Scamander!” Vancity cried as she exited the backroom. “How can I help you?”

Newt leaned over slightly, checking to see if you were in the back before the door shut behind Vancity. “Is (Y/N) here?”

Vancity let out an apologetic sigh. “Sorry, Mr. Scamander, she’s out sick.” Newt opened his mouth to speak but Vancity predicted his next question, silencing him immediately. “She doesn’t know when she’ll be back, either.”

“Oh. Right.” Newt focused on the counter, trying not to meet that horribly embarrassing sympathetic look that crowded Vancity’s face. “Will she be okay?”

“She’ll be perfectly fine. Nothing she can’t handle. It is her job to supply medicinal supplements, after all. Now, is there anything I can help you with?”

“No, actually.”

Newt wasn’t sure what Vancity said left-- his mind was too full with strange thoughts about the nature of your relationship. You were friends, weren’t you? That’s what you said to him the day you met Pickett. So if you were just friends, why was he feeling so lost without you there?

Newt took his time walking back to his house, his mind off someone else. He couldn’t help but recall the way you made him feel with your kind heart and witty humor, your soft eyes and enchanting smile. Just remembering that made his cheeks heat up.

As Newt entered his home, he walked into the basement and opened a cupboard to prepare the food for his Glow Bugs when a few tins from Oliphant & Bailey’s fell onto the counter. That’s when it hit him. He didn’t need all those herbs. He never did. So why was he going?

It was so plain. It was all there, the facts laid out in front of him: Newt Scamander had feelings for you. It was so incredibly obvious that he wondered how he didn’t notice it before. And it wasn’t a normal attraction, it was a stupid schoolboy crush; the kind where he’d go through ridiculous measures just to get your attention.

He groaned and threw his head into his hands at his epiphany. What in Merlin’s name was he supposed to do?

•••

Newt revisited the apothecary day after day, awaiting your return. After about a week of the constant rejections, he decided to let it go for the time being. It was frustrating, to say the least, to not hear how you were doing. He was more concerned about you than he was about acting on his feelings, because Merlin knows when he’d do that.

As Newt ran through the possibilities of what you had come down with, a knocking came from his front that snapped his attention to the forefront of his mind. He opened the door and stared, slightly confused at the sight before him.

“Theseus?”

“Nice to see you, too, Newt,” Theseus scoffed, embracing his younger brother into a tight hug. Newt stood quite stiff in his arms until he let go.

The younger Scamander rested an arm against the doorframe, leaning against it to make himself look much taller next to his brother who just happened to tower over him. After settling into the awkward position, Newt asked, “What brings you here?”

Theseus reached into his pocket to pull out a small notice, placing it into the hands of Newt. Newt frowned before unravelling it and scanning over its contents.

“It’s a notice from the Ministry. Next date to get your international ban removed.”

“Ah.” Newt raised the note in the air, casting a silent spell to have the paper zip itself down to his basement. “I’ll see you then, I reckon.”

Newt tried to shut the door but Theseus put his foot in it, prying it open to face Newt once more. Theseus held out a hand as the other fished through his jacket pocket to pull out a few small vials of Dittany.

“Just in case,” Theseus added sheepishly. “You always used to run out of this, and I can bet you still do.”

Newt flashed a grateful smile at his brother before his eyes caught on the label of the bottle. That same label that was plastered on every herb in his basement.

“Did you get this from Oliphant & Bailey’s?”

“I did, actually.” Theseus snorted, an amused grin on his lips. “The Apothecary there, the new one, she knew you. Recognized my face and asked if I was related to you, ‘the more handsome Scamander’. Her words, not mine.”

“When did you get these?”

“Right before I came here, why?” That familiar devious smirk grew on Theseus’ lips. “Do you fancy the girl, Newt?”

Newt lit up instantly, regardless of Theseus’s teasing. He sucked in a sharp breath and turned towards his coat rack to grab his jacket, slipping it on with great haste. Newt pushed his brother aside, casting a spell to activate the wards at his house.

Newt practically ran to the apothecary, the door swinging open to find a mass of people in line. He didn’t care. He pushed to the front, resting when he got to the counter. He scanned the store, trying to find you but came up empty.

“Newt?”

The sandy haired man whipped around, finding you walking out of the backroom, boxes in hand. Newt sighed, a warmth spreading inside of him at the sight of you. He ran up to you and alleviated the weight from your hands, resting the box on the counter.

“How are you feeling?” he asked through labored breaths.

“I’m...fine. Were you just running?”

Newt was never a good liar. He always got caught one way or another. “Yes…? I desperately need some Dittany.”

A knowing smile toyed at your lips as you raised your brows at him. “Dittany? Did your brother not give you the two vials like he said he would?”

Newt Scamander: expert in magical creatures, failure in lying.

“...right. I meant that I need some of that fruit you gave Pickett a few weeks ago.”

You snorted with laughter before pulling out the form and filling it out with the items, name, and his home address. You cut through the throng of people, snatching a tin up and preparing some of the fruit for Newt.

He began to rifle through his jacket pockets in an attempt to find some money for the treats he didn’t really need.

“How much is it-”

“It’s on the house, Newt. I’m pretty sure you’re our best customer, anyway.”

Newt looked up at you for a moment, his lips curling upwards at your kindness. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. You know,” you began as you labeled the tin, “being sick wasn’t all that bad. Kept me away from work and all. Let me take a break.”

Newt nodded, feeling selfish for wishing you to be at work all the time just so he could see you. “Right,” was all he managed to say.

“The worst part”--you shoved the tin into Newt’s arms-- “was not seeing you.”

The tips of Newt’s ears began to heat up. He wanted to say something clever so desperately but all he managed to do was stare at you in complete shock, eyes wide and jaw slack.

He watched as your eyes flickered down towards the tin, seemingly awaiting a reaction. Newt furrowed his brow before glancing down at the writing on there, blinking in shock. He reread it a few more times, only looking up when he heard you chuckle.

“Is this serious?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because it’s-- well it’s-- it’s me, and you’re you. You’re just...you’re you and I’m me, and I just didn’t think that you’d feel that way-”

“Newt,” you cut off, laughter spilling from your lips, “I happen to like you being you. Funny how those things work.”

Newt couldn’t process what you had just said. It was like everything in the world had tipped in his favor all at once. Just that gorgeous, encapsulating smile on your face was proof enough for him.

“Reckon I’ll see you tomorrow night, then,” he finally managed to say, backing up the best he could towards the door.

“Tomorrow night,” confirmed. Newt was nearly at the door when you called out, “It’s a date!”

He slipped outside, getting a breath of fresh air for the first time in 15 minutes. He ran a hand through his hair, just then realizing that his heart was pounding out of his chest, his grin so wide that his cheeks began to ache. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t be bothered to. Newt looked down at the label one last time, chuckling at the note.

Thursday. 7 PM. Your place.

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

general taglist: @pandaxnienke @lunalovecroft @for-bebbanburg

#newt scamander #newt scamander x you #newt scamander x y/n #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander fanfiction #newton artemis fido scamander #theseus scamander #coffeeshop au #apothecary au #apothecary #apothecary!reader #newt scamander fluff #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts: the crimes of grindelwald #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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simonalkenmayer · 3 years

Note

(Scalemail System) [heavy sigh] Here we are again, with silly anons saying silly things. Our body is pale. We are assumed systemically white quite often, and by looking at us, unless one has quite a good study in the differences of bone structure between races, one would never guess we are, genetically, a quarter Native. Nor would they guess we also have Gaelic, Germanic, French, or (distantly) Romani bloodlines - two of those have also faced persecution not too dissimilar from Natives. We are more minority than we are white. Beyond all that, culture and race do not have to be hand-in-hand. Race you are born into, but culture can be shared. We, for instance, own a handful of sari's. They were freely given to us, and in turn we give them the best care we can and wear with with both respect and pride. We also own a molcajete, a mortar-and-pestle like device of Mexican/Latino origin which is made of volcanic rock (and is much more effective than the pitifully smooth porcelain things you'll find at Bed Bath & Beyond). This molcajete, we asked permission to get from someone we knew of that culture, and they told us no worries, and that we didn't need permission to buy and use a kitchen tool. Even still, we did our research, went through the effort to cure and season it ourselves properly, and will always treasure it and be proud of it. Sharing culture, or objects related to that culture, when you are invited or welcomed into it is not appropriation - it is APPRECIATION. And if humanity continues to draw these ridiculous lines between each other, then this world will never grow nor learn peace, because you all will have willingly segregated yourselves again.

I’ve heard some recent conversation about this on tiktok, and the way I understand it is:

if a practice has been freely shared with you, and its importance, significance, proper handling and rules are given to you, then you have fairly acquired it. If you do not gain from exploiting it, and practice it in a true and pure way, because you believe in it, or share the understanding of its true importance to the originating community, then you fairly hold it. If you step back and let the originating culture decide who may hold it, and defer to their judgement as to how it is acquired by the next group, you fairly pass it on.

An example would be certain religious rites. Let’s say some section of your family, through marriage, is indigenous. They might share their practices with you. They will teach you the appropriate way, how to respect it, how to keep that practice. You now have that practice and it is open to you. You do not use it to show off being part of that culture. You do not use it to gain wealth. You observe it with a kind of understanding that it comes to you through a struggle you may not have known for yourself. Perhaps one day, your friend sees you do it and asks about it. You can explain it to them, but also explain it is a closed practice, unless it is given the proper way. You can invite them to a family gathering, and defer to the people in your family, and tell them “my friend wants to understand this, can you teach them.” And they will decide if this practice should remain closed to that person, or if they are someone who will give it the proper treatment.

There may be practices that can be made understandable to outsiders, but will never be acceptable for them to hold. And people who care about those practices ought to understand that and defer to that wisdom.

I could be wrong in this, but that is what I’ve come to understand. I defer to anyone who has closed practices, to discuss them here.

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leejungchans · 3 years

Text

— gift from the heart (kinda).

juliet’s masterlist

summary: a short bulleted scenario of juliet and the other members of ateez giving jongho (questionable💀) presents during ateez fever road.

a/n: this was going to be a written scenario but i thought my writing got too boring so i decided to do it in a bulleted format instead 🤡

you can watch the episode here!!

she sat between san and seonghwa :3

giggled like crazy when hongjoong revealed that the pink toddler chair was part of jongho’s gifts 💀

san gave him a polaroid of wooyoung 💀💀

juliet: wait, that’s actually not a bad present!! you can put it in a clear phone case and show it off!!!

ma’am your inner kpoppie is showing

jongho: (--_--)

was slightly impressed by seonghwa’s gift (a number robot transformer); bc it was definitely the cutest present out of all eight

was also slightly jealous when she saw yunho’s gift, which were coffee beans

“i want good coffee for my birthday too :ccc”

that lasted for 5 seconds bc then she realised he just gave jongho the beans which the coffee maker at the dorm was not designed for

2young: ppfffttttttttt 💀💀💀

mingi: can’t you just grind them yourself?

juliet: he’s onto something dammit i should’ve gotten you a mortar and pestle!!

wooyoung got jongho soap

he said ✨wash your hands✨

jongho: where did you get this?

wooyoung: from the internet

jongho, slightly touched: you ordered this off the internet for me????

wooyoung: no my dad gave it to me but i didn’t use it

juliet: don’t cry jongho ur so sexc aha

poor jongho really can’t catch a break 🤡

yeosang really just grabbed the wet wipes from their dorm and regifted it 😭😭😭😭

juliet: i mean...at least it’s practical in these times...

jongho: another word from you and i’m going to shove these down your throat

juliet: another word

then it was time for mingi’s pillow 😭

i mean...it did cost ₩200000 ✨

it’s just ✨slightly used✨

she laughed so hard that she collapsed into seonghwa when jongho started using yeosang’s wet wipes to clean the pillow 😭😭😭

now the part we’re all waiting for: her gift to jongho 💀

her present went last so he didn’t really have to guess who it was from

jongho: juliet...what is this??????

juliet: mint gum!!!! :D

mingi: my pillow cost ₩200000! how could you just give him gum??????

wooyoung: isn’t this the cheapest gift here? 💀

juliet: nO BECAUSE YEOSANG DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO PAY FOR HIS

juliet: anyWAYS it reminded me of u bestie 🥰

jongho: how????????????

one of these days he’s gonna Throttle her 👌

“there’s a story behind this!!!!!! do you really not remember??????”

“what is there to remember????”

jongliet bickering <333

“we had lunch together the first day you joined the company, after our meal you asked me if i wanted gum and this was this brand you had with you! i’ve only gotten this brand since then :cccc”

that was the only somewhat sentimental part of her gift i promise 💀

ateez: :OOOO you still remember????? yah jongho how could you forget!!!!!!!! >:(((( you’re gonna hurt her feelings!!!!!!

that was a joke they just like to have fun around here y’know? <3

juliet: see? my gift is more meaningful than it seems (*˘︶˘*)

“okay, i’ll acknowledge that, but...”

“why tf is one piece missing????????”

🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

san whacked her bwhshwhdhja “you ate his present?????”

“...i wanted to make sure it was still good :3”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘STILL GOOD’? WHEN DID YOU BUY THIS?”

“A FEW DAYS AGO IT ISN’T EXPIRED I PROMISE”

“???????????? IDK IF I SHOULD TRUST YOU????????”

“i can test another piece for you to prove it!!!!”

“...is this an excuse to eat another piece”

“...no haha why would i do that bestie 😅”

“YOU’RE NOT EATING MY GIFT”

don’t worry she gave him an actual present bwhdhjwhd 😭😭😭 she gave him a new jacket and scarf after they finished filming ateez fever road

a/n: the mint gum is obviously a joke and i’m assuming they all bought questionable gifts for jongho for the sake of filming skhajdjejs 💀💀💀 sometimes even i need to remind myself that even though miss juliet is v v chaotic, she is still ultimately a very sweet and sentimental person, and tends to remember the smallest details of the people she loves ;-; but things that show more of her soft side are to come!! 💕

(if you read the “first impressions” update 👀 it does say in jongho’s part that he gave her gum on his first day at kq, so this is my way of linking these two updates tgt!!)

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lesdemonium · 3 years

Text

For My Own

Rating: G Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 1404 Summary: Geralt and Jaskier spend their first Yule together AN: this is a prompt for the @geraskierholidayexchange for kate/jaskierofrivia. i hope you enjoy!!

This is a combination of the prompts: 1. First Christmas together as a couple, spending it alone just the two of them (canon) 2. First time Geralt has ever actually celebrated Christmas, because it’s the first time he’s ever wanted to (because he finally gets to spend it with Jaskier) (Canon) 4. Spend Christmas together in the most exclusive, expensive inn in all of Novigrad, with a snowstorm raging outside, pressing expensive jewellery into (or onto 😜) each other’s hands(only sort of for the last two)

read on ao3

“Gods, it’s beautiful out.”

Geralt grunted noncommittally and Jaskier turned away from his look out the window to raise an eyebrow at the witcher. He was sat upon the bed, grinding some herbs to replenish a potion, and Jaskier rolled his eyes. Really, he should have said something about Geralt grinding herbs on their bed, but Jaskier supposed he could pick his battles. At least he wasn’t coming back from a hunt and leaving monster entrails all over the sheets. Again.

The inn they were staying at wasn’t anything particularly spectacular. Jaskier had angled them toward a better one, one with an actual comfortable bed and the ability to take a bath, because Geralt had made an offhand comment about snow possibly coming in, and Jaskier had learned long ago to trust Geralt when he said these things. Lo and behold, now it was far too snowy for them to continue south to warmer weather.

“Can’t you ever just enjoy a moment, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, sitting beside Geralt with a heavy sigh, and reaching out to take the items from Geralt’s hands. “You’re supposed to be relaxing. With me. Enjoying the day.”

“Not much to enjoy about getting snowed in,” Geralt answered, raising an eyebrow. “We were supposed to be on the road today.”

Jaskier’s second sigh was loud and dramatic, and the longer it went on the more even Geralt couldn’t hide his small smile. Jaskier put the pestle and mortar on the table, and draped himself over the bed, his head in Geralt’s lap. “Geralt, you are the worst lover I have ever had,” Jaskier whined. “It’s like you do things on purpose just to torment me. Are you being deliberately obtuse? Do you not see the romantic implications of the weather, our togetherness, the time of year?”

Geralt smirked and ran his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. “Use your words, Jaskier,” he teased.

Jaskier’s eyes narrowed and he pinched Geralt’s thigh, though through his trousers, he probably hardly felt anything. “We’re snowed in, together, during Yule, our first together I’d like to point out, and you want to do busywork tasks?” Jaskier huffed and crossed his arms. “When you suggested we spend the winter together, I thought there would be some consideration of the novelty of it all, but you are still the same as you ever were. I’m just colder and considerably less fattened up.”

The hand in Jaskier’s hair kept moving, and Jaskier closed his eyes as Geralt began to twist and possibly even braid the strands. If Jaskier had to be honest, he had been enjoying his winter with Geralt. Sure, staying holed up in a court and singing songs to rich nobles and dining on their expensive food was nice, and he missed the comfort of it all. Staying with Geralt, however, had made a peaceful sort of happiness settle within Jaskier. He much preferred this, but if he had his way, the following year they would make much better plans than simply continuing on the Path. Maybe he’d ask after Kaer Morhen, and try to force Geralt’s hand in that direction.

“If you’re missing attention, you could probably go downstairs and play for the others snowed in here,” Geralt answered. There was a smile in his voice. Apparently, this was funny.

“I don’t want their attention,” Jaskier said, opening his eyes again to scowl at the witcher. “I want yours.” He considered Geralt’s face, then felt his own heat up in embarrassment. “Should I have--you don’t even care about Yule, do you? Oh, bollocks. You didn’t even realize it was Yule.” Jaskier sat up. “I didn’t think to ask if you even recognized it or celebrated it or--”

“Jaskier.” Geralt cut him off with a hand at his elbow. “I know it’s Yule.”

“But you didn’t say anything.” Jaskier was well aware he was whining now. He didn’t mean to, but he was a little bit embarrassed and a lot disappointed. “Never mind, just forget it. This time, I cannot blame your lack of communication, because it was my own lack of communication that made for this false start of a conversation.”

Geralt’s fingers slid down to Jaskier’s and lifted Jaskier's arm. Jaskier fixed him with an unimpressed look--he did not want Geralt to try to distract him, mostly because he knew Geralt would succeed--as Geralt pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s knuckles. Then his lips trailed along Jaskier’s skin, stopping only to press a kiss to the back of his hand, then over the veins of his wrist as Geralt turned his hand over, then up his forearm, pushing the fabric of Jaskier’s loose shirt up as he went.

“Geralt, I don’t want you to--” Jaskier started, just as Geralt’s lips pressed against the inside bend of his elbow.

“So you don’t want your gift?” Geralt interrupted.

Jaskier’s eyebrows furrowed and he studied Geralt suspiciously. “I thought you didn’t celebrate Yule.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “No, you decided that when you were rambling,” he shrugged. “My brothers and I usually drink and exchange small, useful gifts. Extra potions, new whetstones, pieces of leather. Things like that. This is my first time… really celebrating it. You didn’t say anything, so I didn’t know if you would want to.”

With a small smile, Jaskier cupped Geralt’s face with his free hand. “Oh, Love. I do. I want to very much. There’s nothing I want more,” he said, with as much sincerity as he could.

“Good.” A moment later, Geralt retrieved something from his pocket, and he took Jaskier’s wrist again. He fumbled for a moment, then pulled away to reveal a thin golden chain around Jaskier’s wrist. It was small, delicate, with tiny yellow gemstones every few centimeters. Jaskier couldn’t help the way his face broke into a wide smile and he trailed the fingers of his other hand over the chain.

“Geralt, it’s beautiful,” he whispered. Jaskier looked up to meet Geralt’s eye and, for once, Geralt looked proud of something he had done. “You don’t get to buy pretty things often, do you? Such a shame. You’re very good at it.”

Now, Geralt’s smile grew sheepish, and to save himself the mortification of answering, Geralt pulled Jaskier in for a kiss with a gentle hand on Jaskier’s jaw. Jaskier wouldn’t complain, though he did finally have to be the one to break the kiss. With a great amount of regret.

“I have something for you, too,” Jaskier said, and stood up to retrieve his bag.

There, at the bottom of his pack, Jaskier had hidden a small box. There was no chance Geralt would go through Jaskier’s bag for anything short of an emergency, but Jaskier had been jumpy about it all week anyway. He removed the box from the bag, then turned to Geralt. For once in his life, Jaskier was feeling shy. Maybe even a bit embarrassed. No, definitely embarrassed. Incredibly embarrassed. He held out the box anyway.

“It’s silly and I know you aren’t really one for--”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, holding up his hand to cut off Jaskier’s ramble before it could begin. Geralt opened the box and stared at the ring on a long chain. The chain was much sturdier than the one Jaskier was now wearing, one that wouldn’t slice through as easily during a hunt. And the ring on the end--

“It’s my signet. So that--so that even when we’re apart, you have a piece of me,” Jaskier said, flushing. He sat down on the bed beside Geralt, but did not look at him. “You aren’t one for jewelry, I know. But I thought you might--”

Geralt didn’t answer, but he slipped the chain over his head and under his shirt. He took Jaskier’s hand and pressed Jaskier’s palm to the bump of the ring, just over his heart, just beside his medallion. Geralt let go, but still Jaskier lingered, and drew closer. His hand was trapped between them as they kissed, long and lingering, and Geralt wrapped a warm arm around Jaskier’s waist.

“I love you,” Jaskier whispered against Geralt’s lips.

Geralt hummed, ran his thumb over Jaskier’s bracelet, and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Jaskier’s lips again. “I love you,” he answered.

The snow continued to fall outside the window. But even Geralt, later, after the sun had set and they had started in on some spiced spirits, could admit that it was beautiful.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier fic #geraskier christmas fic #my writing #holiday exchange

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windupnamazu · 3 years

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just to be seen by my eyes

ffxivwrite2021 #09: friable

⮞ lunya & sirius. 975 words. ⮞ pre-endwalker. around the 2021 rising quest. ⮞ the rising is a time of remembrance and of mourning. some people understand this better than others.

friable: easily crumbled or reduced to powder.

Thanalan was just as they left it the last time they were here together. Lunya barely took in the admittingly picturesque landscape as she climbed the slope, basket firmly pressed against her hip and fastened taut to her belt. The dust of the desert was the same. So were the tumbleweeds that occasionally bumbled by. The cactus outcrop had grown in the years since she last saw it, but their leaves were still a lively green and their pears a vibrant pink like the skirt she wore.

It'd been some time since she went out of her way to harvest her dye materials by hand—buying them wholesale was easier, as was buying her dyes pre-made. But this was the season of the Rising and she liked to think she'd grown somewhat over the years. As violet twilight sank over Thanalan she reached out to one of the little white bumps that dotted the nopal fins, and without hesitating crushed it beneath her thumb.

"You have gloves," Sirius said exasperatedly as he pulled himself up on the cliff behind her. He dropped their backpack to the ground and grabbed her hand in his handkerchiefed one, wiping the red stain from her fingers with the same tenacity he dusted off the knickknacks in their house. It was strange, seeing her friend out of the uniform he'd worn ever since he vowed to serve as her retainer. Stranger still for them to come back here together like this after she'd promised he'd never have to return to Ul'dah again, even if it was of Sirius's own accord.

But the way he fussed over her was familiar and warm, and Lunya allowed him this indulgence for a moment. Then she laughed, wiggling her still-pink thumb at him as she slipped from his grasp. Sirius rolled his eyes—eyes that were red like blood, as rich as the carmine she began to harvest and the moon that had fallen down all those years ago—and sat down to keep watch as she set about harvesting.

The cochineal gave way easily, piling nicely into the little sieve she pulled from her basket. It was quiet as she worked. Sirius didn't really need to accompany her today under the guise of babysitting her, not when her mana was straining against the confines of her body and it'd take something entirely blind to it to be stupid enough to attack her.

"Collect the carmine," she murmured to herself as she scraped, scraped, scraped, smearing red into the skin of the nopales. It was the same crimson someone dear to her had worn long ago; a favourite colour on favourite robes, taken far from where the sun rose in the east only to die in the west with sundown. "Dry. Crush them with a pestle and mortar into a fine powder. Add water. Soak overnight and decide how you want to process it. It can be used as a dye for textiles and cosmetics. In food and alcohol too."

"You still remember," Sirius said plainly as he lit a lantern, his voice like cold ink. Behind them, the golden lights of Ul'dah were slowly flickering to life. There was a shrill whistle as the very first of the fireworks ascended into the sky, shattering above the Thanalan skyline in all the colours of crushed gemstones.

"Of course I do." She didn't bother hiding the ache in her bones. Not to Sirius, who knew her grief as his own, carrying her when she could not stand in the years between the Calamity and her return to La Noscea. "I don't think I could forget."

What would Kichirou think of her now, like this? It wasn't like her hands were clean when he took them in—but had he thought she'd so easily spill more blood than just insects' after he was gone? Did he expect more from her, want more for her, like her parents had for her?

She'd never know for sure now. But, Lunya mused as she wiggled her filled sieve back into the basket, she didn't need to. The red of her stained fingers was now the same as the blood she'd spilled. It was also the same as the blood in her veins that others had worked tirelessly to keep flowing. If there was anything she could be certain of, it was that her grandfatherly guardian probably had never wanted her to drown in the life he had given her on the night of the Calamity.

Lunya's aether sang beneath her skin, pounding at her chest. She allowed it to swell and urged it to overflow into her palm, where light pooled until it solidified into two rods.

"How do you feel?" Sirius asked, taking one from her outstretched hand when she came to sit beside him.

Lunya inhaled the cold Thanalan air. The fireworks were brighter than the windows of Ul'dah ever were. The sparklers in their hands ignited, burning off her over-abundance of aether. Kichirou had loved these things, and had been more than overjoyed to share them with the children. They'd head back to the Lavender Beds soon and in the morning she'd set aside her pigments and dye her new batch of astral silk a beautiful shade of Dalamud red. Her husband and their family—their eclectic, beloved mishmash of friends—would greet the new day with her at breakfast. The world would turn as it always had, and she would live with it. Kichirou wasn't around anymore, and maybe she would never stop mourning him, but she was alive and she would live for him. She was—

"Better," she decided, smiling at her friend. "Yeah, better."

They sat there with their aether sparklers until the last of the fireworks fizzled into the night, crowning the jewel of Thanalan with the image of a meteor before cloaking the land in simple moonlight.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #tales from the warriors of light #oc: lunya #oc: sirius #*

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batgurl1989 · 3 years

Text

We Meet Again Chapter 1

Summary: After years of not seeing each other, Geralt has found Younin again at the Inn at the Crossroads working as an Herbalist. He needs her assistance, and she can’t turn him down.

Word Count: 1578

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia and OFC

Warnings: None at this point. Those will come later

A/N: This is the first chapter of many for Geralt and Younin (The name for my OFC as a play on the use of Y/N for your name). This is mostly being used as an introductory chapter, and is based more on the Witcher 3: Wild Hunt video game than on the show or books. As always, I welcome critique, and feel free to shot me ideas of what you may like to see these two get up to on their adventures. Let me know if you want to be on the taglist.

Taglist: @rmtndew @princesssterek

Chapter One

“Mutant!”

“Abomination!”

“You’re kind’s no’ welcome ‘ere!”

The shouting could be heard clear down the street, all the way to your humble shop. You paused grinding the herbs, the pestle almost slipping from your hand. Since the Crones had been destroyed and the war ended years ago, your quaint little town didn’t often have unknown visitors beyond the traveling merchants. If you needed supplies for your potions and oils, you usually had to travel to Novigrad or at least the Crow’s Perch. But this visitor was especially rare. A Witcher was passing through.

You shook your head, trying to clear it of the hope that suddenly sprang to life in your chest. Your heart rate picked up at the possibility that this Witcher could be YOUR Witcher. But you knew he left Velen years ago without much thought for returning. You began to grind the herbs in the mortar again, but got lost in the almost hypnotic mundane work.

Over the decades, you and Geralt kept running into each other. The first time was when he needed healing after a Drowner attack while on one of his missions. At that point you knew his heart belonged ultimately belonged to your Sorceress comrade, Yennefer. Though handsome, and clearly up for a meaningless romp, you managed to heal him and send him on his way. The on again off again relationship between Geralt and Yennefer was well known among the magical world, and the last you had heard, they were on.

The next time your paths crossed had been in Skellige at one of the many parties the ruling Jarl had thrown. A few heated glances had led to a rendezvous on the balcony. He and Yennefer were off at the time, but your conscious still ate at you regardless of the immense pleasure the Witcher had given you. You saw the look of hurt that flashed through his eyes as you portalled out of the party shortly after finishing.

Since that party, you had seen each other every couple of years, and although you knew how easy it would be to fall into bed with him, you never did. But that didn’t stop the two of you shameless flirting at every turn.

When you had settled in Velen to open an herbalist shop in Novigrad, he was quick to find you. It had been one of the most difficult meetings you two had shared. At the time Geralt had just gotten his memory back after spending time with Triss, having completely forgotten about Yennefer. It was a tense time for everyone as the whole magical community held its breath waiting to see if Yennifer would decimate Triss for taking advantage of Geralt while his memories were gone.

And then of course there was the confusion following when Geralt couldn’t seem to make up his mind between the two. You had decided it was safer and better for you to concentrate on your work and boosting your business. But it wasn’t safe for you to remain in Novigrad as the Witch Hunters were making themselves very known to anyone not human.

That was how you found yourself in one of the outskirt villages, making a decent but humble name for yourself. Keeping your magic mostly under wraps. The villagers knew you were a Sorceress, but as long as you didn’t do anything too big and draw too much attention to yourself, then they left you alone for the most part. You figured they were probably just happy to have someone who could heal the ailments that came with living near a swamp.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your memories. Giving you head a harder shake, you plastered a smile on your face, and turned to greet the customer standing in your open doorway. You tried to leave your door open during business hours so people would know you were open. Your smile almost faltered when you saw who filled your doorway.

“Long time no see.” Geralt had a surprised smile on his face, as though he hadn’t been expecting you. Outside you could still here villagers grumbling about his presence.

“Here. Step inside.” You waved him in. Once he was over the threshold, you closed your door. If Geralt was here, it was important, and any other customers could wait. Wiping your hands on the waist apron you wore when grinding herbs, you looked around from something to busy yourself with. If you were being honest with yourself, you were mostly looking to make sure the place was in decent condition. “So, uh, what brings you to the Crossroads?”

“I’m running low on some herbs.” You could feel Geralt’s eyes on you as you went over to your large cupboard where you stored all the herbs you had for sale. “I didn’t think you would still be in Velen after everyone left for Kovir.”

“I make do where I am.” You shrugged, opening the cupboard doors to reveal a multitude of tiny drawers and compartments filled with herbs and other spell components. “What herbs were you looking for? I usually have the ones you would commonly need. For the rarer ones, you might need to travel to Novigrad.”

Geralt nodded, stepping closer to the cupboard and you. You hoped you were subtle as you stepped away from him, giving him more room to search for what he needed. A sideways glance from him told you that he noticed. Clearing your throat, you went back over to your bench to start cleaning up the herb you had been preparing. Anything to get you away from his heat and his scent. Though he had probably been on the road for days, fighting who knew what, he always smelt of fresh air, leather, and horse. It wasn’t an unappealing smell, and you found you always had to distance yourself from it otherwise it clouded your mind.

“If you are going to ask, just do it.” His low rumbling voice carried easily across the small room even though you were making a lot of noise.

“How is Yennefer?” You quietly asked, not able to give your voice volume in the hopes that he didn’t hear. You were unsure if you wanted to know the answer, and you felt like giving him an out for old time’s sake.

“I wouldn’t know.” Geralt replies calmly, opening a few drawers to pull out a few sprigs of herbs.

BANG

Spinning with a hand reaching over his shoulder for one of his two swords, Geralt looked ready to take on any foe that might have invaded your cottage. He relaxed when he took in the shattered mortar on your work bench, and the smoke rising from the shards. His hand left his sword as he made his way over to you as you scrambled to clean up the mess.

“Sorry! Sorry.” You swept the powdered mess into your hand to deposit in a bucket you used mostly for compost, but would now serve as a garbage. “I don’t know why that happened. The components were stable.”

“But you weren’t.” Geralt noted, leaning against the workbench with his arms crossed. He watched you with a mixture of amusement and concern swimming in his golden eyes. He watched you silently for a minute longer as you rushed to clean up the mess. You seemed to be making it worse with each attempt to sweep it up. His hand covered yours, stopping your panicked motions. “Younin.”

“Don’t.” You closed your eyes against the wave of emotions that crashed over you at his touch. Hearing your name on his lips was bad enough without him holding your hands still. Mentally throwing up walls against your feelings, you steeled yourself as you looked directly at him. “Did you find what you needed?”

“Got them here.” Geralt held out his hands. You quickly made a mental note of what he had taken for inventory purposes. He set them down on the bench, reaching his coin.

“You don’t need to. Consider them on the house.” You raised your hands, shaking your head vehemently. You couldn’t imagine a world where you would actually charge Geralt for a simple handful of herbs.

“You must let me pay you.” Geralt took a step toward you, crowding into your space. There was no where for you to go as your back was against the workbench. You took a deep breath, ready to protest again, but you saw something shift in his eyes, and he backed off. “At least let me buy you a drink then.”

“Fine, but only because I was heading to the Inn anyway.” You sighed, giving in against your better judgement. The single piece of information he had given you was quickly taking root in your mind and seemed to take over your decision-making skills. “Just let me clean up in here, and I will meet you there.”

Geralt seemed to accept that, nodding as his gold eyes took one last lingering look at you. He ducked out the door, closing it behind him with a soft snick of the latch. You sighed, letting the tension flow out of your body now that he was gone. You hadn’t fooled him or yourself. He still had a hold on you somehow after all these years. But having drinks with him might be the only time you had to explore those feelings. So you got ready as quickly as possible to head over the Inn.

#Geralt of Rivia fanfic #Geralt x reader #Geralt x OFC #witcher fanfiction #Witcher fanfic #Henry Cavill Fanfic #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #Geralt Fanfic #We Meet Again

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