the most relatable thing to happen to any disney character is when alice literally flooded a room with her tears and then moments later was completely dry-eyed floating in a bottle saying “oh dear i wish i hadn’t cried so much”
Their first kiss wasn’t spectacular. No one stood in the background, waiting to light off fireworks while hordes of people cheered and applauded. There was no performance at all, really.
The fact of the matter is that their first kiss was on a Tuesday night, and Draco was making Harry stay up with him to study for a Defense Against the Dark Arts exam they had the next morning. They were the only ones in the common room. But Harry looked at the clock and realized it wasn’t Tuesday night anymore, it was actually Wednesday morning, and somehow during their studying they’d slumped over onto each other, eyelids weighed down with sleep. The fire had all but burned out, the glowing coals casting a dim orange light across the two boys on the overstuffed sofa…
It wasn’t spectacular. They just sort of… fell together, I suppose, melting into each other, and Harry wasn’t sure where his mouth ended and Draco’s began anymore. He kept falling. Harry hoped he’d never hit the ground.
Their first kiss was in the rain after Harry and Draco were both shit-faced drunk, stumbling out of the bar while still swaying in time to the pumping music inside. Harry’s glasses were askew, and his cheeks were flushed, and god, his pupils were so dilated… Draco had intended on mapping out every corner of Harry’s face so he could remember it later when he went home alone like usual, but when he straightened Harry’s glasses for him, his hands lingered against his cheeks, thumbs tracing Harry’s lips. Their foreheads pressed together. He could feel Harry’s breath against his mouth and when he finally closed the remaining space between them, Harry’s wand shot out sparks and singed Draco’s coat. If you weren’t looking closely as you walked past them in the dark, you’d think it was one cloaked figure, standing very still outside the crowded bar.
Draco didn’t go home alone ever again after that night.
Their first kiss was in the eighth-year common room, surrounded by friends who had all had far too much firewhiskey to drink. It was Harry’s turn, and his face was already beet red. He wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or from what was about to happen, but he wasn’t sure that mattered right now. He spun the bottle as hard as it would go. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and the bottle just kept going… There was no way there wasn’t magic involved in how long it took it to stop spinning. Maybe he was so drunk, it had stopped spinning hours ago and he just hadn’t noticed.
The room went silent.
Harry was particularly aware of the fact that there was a floor beneath him, and something else underneath, and he felt entirely too heavy to hold up. He looked at who the bottle pointed towards and wished the floorboards would give way to send him plummeting into whatever room was beneath them.
And Ron was assuring him that no, if he really didn’t want to, he didn’t have to do it, but Pansy started chanting “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” and made everyone else join in. Hell, even Hermione was pumping her fists and chanting, and all of the blood in Harry’s body rushed to his head. He was most definitely a deep shade of scarlet now.
He looked up from his lap, though, and inches in front of him was the one person he never thought he’d touch in a way that wasn’t with malintent, and his eyes were already closed.
Draco tasted like peppermint and booze. The first time, at least.
Their first kiss was full of fire and anger and sweat, and they were seventeen. There was no one left in the showers after Slytherin lost another Quidditch match to Gryffindor, and Draco was convinced Harry had cheated. He’d almost had the snitch. He could have beat him for the first time in his life. Draco punched first, hitting the hard brick wall and bloodying his knuckles when Harry ducked out of the way. Harry’s face was covered in dirt and neither of them had much in the way of a hairstyle after playing out in a rainstorm for several hours. But Draco couldn’t think about Harry’s unkempt hair or muddy face right now, because somehow Harry had pinned him up against the wall, breathing hard and muttering something about how Draco should think very hard about what he did next…
Harry had hickeys landscaped across his chest for days.
Their first kiss was confusing for both of them. Of course Snape had paired them together for potions again, and Harry was prepared to sit back and let Draco do all the work again, but they were being watched so Draco thrust into Harry’s arms some things to chop up that had nothing to do with what they were brewing. Harry was getting a Dreadful in this class and he wasn’t sure how he was going to finish school if he flunked out.
“I’ll help you,” Draco mumbled, and Harry became aware that he had somehow managed to say all of this out loud.
“You’ll what?” asked Harry, dumbfounded.
“I said I’ll help you, you git,” Draco sneered, “McGonagall wants me to do something for the less fortunate because it might help me get a job when we get out of here.”
So Harry agreed, and for two hours on Saturday nights Harry and Draco had a scheduled slot of time to argue study. They’d never spent time alone together though, at least not for this long, and Harry began to notice little things about Draco. Like how when Draco was thinking hard about something, he flossed his hands through his hair, pulling it all off of his forehead and accentuating his widow’s peak. He looked like a blond vampire like that. It was a good look on him.
“What did you just say?” questioned Draco, one eyebrow raised. Harry had thought out loud again. Shit. He tried to think of something to cover up what he’d just said, but it was all out in the open now. He couldn’t backtrack on something like that. Draco looked beyond pleased with himself, and Harry felt his jaw clench. That git.
God, Draco got under his skin, but here, in the empty potions classroom, alone, he looked…
He got under his skin so much that skin was all Harry could think about now. Draco’s skin. It was softer than he’d ever imagined. And his lips were another story.
And that’s what I love about fanfiction. The fact that we can write into existence hundreds of first kiss, each one unique in it’s own way, but each one dripping with more magic than anything you can cast with your wand. Each one the jumping off point for an infinite universe of stories, love, heartbreak, and laughter. So here’s to beginnings. Here’s to more first kisses.
Thank you @parkkate for reminding me of the post I made a few months ago that fell along this line! I figured I’d have at it once again like I did with the other post I made yesterday since I don’t really remember anything I wrote last time!
INFP: Special order soap. It tastes like bug spray and menthol. This soap was made for certain purposes; being eaten was not one of them. You congratulate yourself on being such a rebel as you begin to see the lights. 8/10
ENFP: Children’s soap. It smells and tastes exotic, but you’re not completely sure what it’s supposed to be. The happy koala on the bottle isn’t much of a clue. It’s a bit astringent. It burns as you swallow. You’re glad your tongue is clean, though. You hiccup, and a bubble leaves your mouth. 5/10
INFJ: Dishwasher soap. Stronger than its cousin, dish soap, but significantly more likely to kill you. It leaves a soft white powder residue on the burns it creates on your tongue. This is somehow your aesthetic. It tastes like a chemical burn and a Tumblr moodboard. You’re pleased. 10/10
ENFJ: Dish soap. It smells like what someone who has never seen a real, whole coconut before would imagine that coconut to smell like. It’s a bit slimy. No matter how much you heave, you can’t seem to get the residue off of your tongue. It begins to sting. 4/10
ISFP: Hotel soap. Completely horrible. No matter what you do, you can’t get the taste out of your mouth afterwards. You look at the crumpled wrapper on your borrowed bathroom counter. You can’t decide if it’s brown or gray. It was complimentary, so you really have nothing to complain about, you remind yourself. There are bubbles in the cracks between your teeth. You hope this will trick your dentist into thinking you actually flossed tomorrow. It does. You feel triumphant as he scrapes the oily residue off of your incisors, perplexed. You’ll never tell. 9/10
ESFP: Handmade soap. You smushed some stuff around in a bucket, and this is the resultant creation. It tastes like oil-flavored toothpaste. The ingredients you bought off of eBay probably weren’t poisonous. You’re not sure how to get the stuff out of this bucket and into a usable container. It will have to do – you decide this is probably more rustic anyway. As one hand shoves another chunk into your mouth, the other increases the price of your soap tenfold on your Etsy store. You smile in the dark, the light from your computer giving your soapy teeth a pallid glow. Multicolored spots begin to dance in your eyes. You take another bite. 7/10
ISFJ: Microbead soap. Tastes like a ruined environment and clogged waterways. You’re not sure if fish are capable of feeling sad. The beads scrape and scratch at your gums as you swish before you swallow. You feel them peel away every unnecessary dead cell in your mouth. You look into the empty bottle, wishing there was more. You open another. Your head begins to vibrate as your stomach begins to twist. You comfort yourself with the knowledge that your blood will finally be clean. 6/10
ESFJ: Bar soap. The original. The classic. It tastes like your childhood – at least the parts when your mother caught you when you swore. Nutty aftertaste with mild notes at the beginning, but now that you’ve finished chewing, it just tastes like soap. You remember why you hated it. You spit it out. You wonder if you’ll go blind. 5/10
ISTP: Hand soap. Perfumey and bland. It eases down your throat as you slurp from the opened bottle. You wonder if it has been watered down. You wonder whose soap this is. You wonder how you ended up in this bathroom, in this house. Your stomach begins to quelch as you stagger outside. You lurch towards the next house, wondering if the soap in another bathroom will taste any different - if it will have answers. It won’t. 3/10
ESTP: Shampoo. Creamy and metallic. It goes down smoothly as you chug from the aesthetically-molded plastic bottle. You hurry. When it’s empty, you quietly slip from this shower, from this house. You move through the night towards the house next door. Maybe their selection will finally satiate you. You will never be full. 9/10
ISTJ: Expensive department store soap. Salty and vaguely acrid. It tastes like licking a grandma. There’s a hint of alcohol – probably the perfumes. You look around your dimly-lit bathroom as you sit on the edge of your tub and feel dead inside. You look at the delicate lettering on the elegant packaging and feel alive. You take another bite. It flakes into beige icing between your teeth. 6/10
ESTJ: Laundry soap. It smells absolutely fantastic, but is so concentrated that you end up in the emergency room. It tastes like deception and suds. Tiny bubbles line your lips. You realize you forgot to start the dryer before the ambulance came. You can no longer tell if it’s the soap or you that’s foaming. It’s soft. You wonder if you’re finally clean as you begin to fade. 2/10
INTJ: Novelty soap. The fragrance of this bar is particularly powerful. The smell is so strong that your brain is tricked into thinking it’s the flavor as well; this prevents you from noticing your discomfort as it slowly erodes away at your lips. You stare at the box, trying to decide if Blue Strawberry Bonanza is a typo. You’re not sure. The prize inside lends extra crunch, but you’re spitting bubbles for an hour afterwards. This is the worst $27 you have ever spent. 7/10
ENTJ: Straight lye. It hurts. At a pH of 13, it’s obviously very efficient – but it will wash you away as well as the grime. It burns. At least you didn’t waste your money on one of those useless scented soaps. Now it hurts AND burns. You reassure yourself with your pragmatism as you begin to die. It tastes like blood. 0/10
INTP: Holiday soap. Special, fragrant, and full of glitter. It tastes horrible when consumed, yet this is your fifth sip. You take your sixth. You look at the leering gingerbread man on the peeling sticker and don’t understand why he can’t taste the way he looks just this once. You decide to give him another chance. It doesn’t work. He tastes the same. 2/10
ENTP: Car wash soap. You’ve never felt so alive, so powerful. The industrial foam fills your mouth, your throat, your lungs. It tastes like wax and fire. This is what it means to be an extrovert. The suds drip from your eyelashes just long enough for you to see the brushes heading towards you. They’re coming. You’re not afraid. They said that you shouldn’t, that you couldn’t. You raise your fists above your head and push out a gurgled scream. You’ll show them. 1/10
Do you ever just feel like breaking down because of the pressure build up and so much stress, new things to worry about keep popping up, things you thought you were over come up again, but worse... It's been so long... I wish I could just let go sometimes
hello, my loves! the purpose of this spell is to send your most positive energy and vibrations to the ones that you love whom you feel need it most (this can include yourself). here are the steps:
• a dish/cauldron/anything to mix spices in + a spoon
• nutmeg (or cinnamon), rosemary, lavender (you may also use lavender oil instead), salt, and several rose hips (or petals)
• a small quartz crystal
• paper/scissors/ + a pen
• a small bottle, jar, bag, or holder that you can close or seal
• optional: a pink, white, or red candle; lipstick
Note: Before creating my charm bottle, I put on some relaxing, atmospheric background music. For suggestions, feel free to ask me! And if you have a candle, light it beforehand.
1). Begin by mixing your spices together in your dish! Add them in any order you please, a small spoonful of each: rosemary for love, lavender for peace, nutmeg (or cinnamon) for good luck and strong visualization, and salt for additional strength and protection. As you add each spoonful, begin to focus on what each spice represents, and how it will help the people you wish to send positivity to.
2).Now is the time to begin writing out your intentions for each individual you are hoping to help. On a piece of paper, in small lettering, write a brief note for each person. Ex: “Safe travels for ___,” “Positive mentality and moving forward for ___,” “A healthy recovery for ___.” You can write messages for as many people as you wish. When you are done, cut out each small piece of paper and fold them small enough to fit in your bottle/jar/holder. If you wish, anoint them with a little something - I sealed all of my notes with a kiss, marked in red lipstick!
3).This is where the rose hips/rose petals come into play. Add a hip or petal to your spice mixture to represent each person that you wrote a note for.
4). Mix your spices together. Close your eyes. Picture your good intentions flowing gently down your arm, your hand, flowing into the spoon, and then off of the spoon, filling your mixture with love and protection.
5). Add your spice mixture to your holder, minus the hips/petals.
6).After adding the spices, drop your notes and hips/petals in, one at a time. Go in the order (note, hip/petal; note, hip/petal; note, hip/petal…) The goal is to visualize that specific person as happy, glowing, and healthy as you drop their notes and rose hips/petals in, one at a time. Really take the time to build up a radiant energy while you close your eyes and envision them as cheerful. While in this positive, visual state, add your quartz crystal to the holder.
7). That’s it! Seal your holder, and place it in an altar, on the windowsill, or next to your bed. Shake it every so often to charge its contents with your ethereal, healing energy! 🥀💖✨💌💋
Here we continue my jar spell series! This one in particular is pretty easy :) It can be used for a variety of different things - depending on what you want! You can use it for a wish, or to help you succeed in something you want to do. This spell’s purpose will differ with the intent you charge it with!
For this spell, I used…
Essential oil of your choice (that relates to your wish! feel free to ask me about any oil correspondences :))
Feel free to use as many of these ingredients or as few as you like; substitute items, replace them, and add your own! Let me know how it goes ❤️❤️