THE NEWBIE WITCH - WHAT OTHERS OFTEN DON’T TELL YOU ABOUT BEGINNING THE PRACTICE
You will find lots of articles on tumblr for newbie witches but I realized when I started practicing that a lot of things were missing and I was kind of ashamed to ask because I felt stupid.
This post is for people who have just started practicing or are planning to. If you have already been into witchcraft for years this could be a little reminder for you.
You don’t need to be wiccan. You don’t need deities in your craft. When I started I was a little puzzled: everyone was talking about prayers, faith and other religious things essential in the craft. It seemed everyone was wiccan! Or Pagan. But they were talking about things I didn’t believe in. They were questioning my religious beliefs and my will to practice witchcraft. Then I found out about the existence of secular witches i.e. witches who do not include religion in their craft. Religion is not essential in witchcraft.You can use your own power, you can ask mother earth to land you some. It’s perfectly fine.
Get info BEFORE you seriously practice. This is a point lots of people skip and underrate. When I discovered magic was real I was enthusiastic. I wanted to start as soon as possible and I was upset my exams didn’t allow me to. Now I’m glad I waited. While I was studying for my exams I read various articles, I followed witchy blogs on tumblr (windvexer and witchtips are great blogs for beginners. Look for their masterposts!) and I collected enough info to start practicing one month later but understanding what I was doing. I’m not saying you should wait months to start but just be sure to be aware of the basis and the possible dangers.
Trust your guts! There are witches who will tell you super rare and expensive items are required in your craft. They will often tell you to use things you can’t have. I’m not saying they’re wrong, they are probably suggesting what it’s right in their practice. But they are sometimes not newbiesfriendly blogs. My suggestions is: do what it feels right for you. (But if you want to use herbs and eat them do some serious research first!!!) For example, if someone tells you you should use rose quartz for tranquillity but you don’t have it/don’t want to use crystals in your craft/you don’t associate tranquility with quartz, etc. don’t do it. Use a substitute! Plus, don’t underestimate the power of visualization. It takes practice, I know, but if you can’t have an item, just imagine you have it! And remember: magic doesn’t come from candles, crystals or whatever. It is within you. They just enhance it but they’re not essential.
Magic is real but do not confuse it with real life. Before you get pissed and think what I said it’s crap let me explain it. Magic is part of your life and your life is real, duh, but do not get overwhelmed by magic. In few words: don’t forget living. Don’t think every single thing that happens in your life is magical!If you see a bunny in a pet shop it probably isn’t a sign meant to you. It’s just a bunny. There are indeed signs hidden in your normal life but don’t think that everything is.
Magic just gives a little push. You can’t perform magic with a purpose and without acting in the real world in order to make it happen. You can’t create a sigil to have new friends if you have 0 social interactions. Don’t ask for the impossible: a spell won’t allow you to meet Obama, I’m sorry, unless you live in the White House.
Don’t be afraid to live magic and muggle lives at the same time. I swear the first time I performed magic and I created a shield I felt bad going to the bathroom. It seems dumb, I know, but beginning the practice can be scary the first time. Don’t be ashamed of what’s natural and don’t be scared to use subtle magic when in company. Magic is part of you!
You don’t need labels. I repeat: YOU DON’T NEED LABELS! When I started practicing I felt the need to say out loud what my interests were. The truth? I couldn’t say it yet. Everything fascinated me so I just told people I was eclectic. But I actually am not. Don’t feel in a rush when you get into the magical realm. Just do what you like and you will later understand what you prefer.
It is okay if you’re not into everything magical! You will see lots of witches who use herbs in their practice. Others use crystals. And every spell you find online requires either herbs or crystals. You will spontaneously think they are essential for every witch but they are actually not. Don’t feel ashamed. Say it out loud: “I don’t like herbs!/I don’t like crystals!/I don’t like sigils!”. You can only love tarots and you can still be a witch. You can dislike jars and you will still be a witch.
It is okay if you don’t want to be called “witch”. I understand that this word is often used to describe someone nasty, ugly or unpleasant. Or you could just simply not like the word for your own personal reasons. You can use other terms, more specific about your craft: diviner, spirit worker, fortune teller, etc. Or if you just want a synonym of the word witch: magic practitioner, sorcerer, wizard. There are many others. Find the word you feel comfortable with.
Males can be witches as well. Witch is not just a word for women. If you’re male and you want to practice magic and be called a witch, go for it!
You don’t need to be in a coven. If you don’t want to be part of a group you can learn on your own. And that’s fine.
Be careful of the words you use. You’re new in the craft and you start using words like gipsy, spirit guides, strega, etc. Be very mindful of the words you choose! They can be disrespectful, cultural appropriation or misuse of terms about a closed practice. Do your own research and remember to be always respectful. If you misuse a word and people let you know it’s wrong apologize, be polite and change your attitude. It’s easy. For more info I’d suggest to look here [cultural appropriation 12; gipsy as a slur word; witch culture; stregheria 123; - I will add more links in the future about this topic]
Don’t let others define what’s right and what’s wrong. Some people say cursing is bad, blood magic is for evil witches, satanism is bad, etc. There is no “white magic” or “black magic”. Magic is neutral and it depends on you. You can curse and be the nicest person in the world. If you’re afraid of the three fold law I’d suggest to read this post and don’t let others influence you. It’s your choice. Not theirs.
Everyone can be a witch. When you discover magic is real and it’s not just in books you ask yourself “Can I be a witch?”. You may think you need someone in your family to “pass you the magical genes” or something like that. But what most of witches believe is that magic lies within each one of us. You can be more naturally talented but if you are not don’t be afraid. Speaking of books, remember that Hermione was born in a muggle family yet she was the greatest! If you don’t have natural talents you can still be a witch. Work hard and you will see great results!
Gender, sexual orientation, age, race, culture do not prevent you from being a witch. You can be transgender, asexual, African American, Chinese or whatever. You can still be a witch.
Did I forget something? Let me know in comments or reblogs and I will add it in the list!
I do not like being presented with such nice things, such nice people, such nice opportunities and not be able to appreciate them just because somehow I always feel that something’s missing. I don’t want to keep thinking about what I’ve been missing when I already have an awfully nice lot. I have been living better than half of the world, never starved nor beaten nor bruised. And yet I am sad. I do not want to be but I am. Because I’ve been given the things I need to live but I’ve been missing the things I need to feel alive.
guess who jumped the bandwagon and started reading percy jackson? i’m only on the 3rd book so he’s not this old yet but i just wanted to draw him older so forgive me if i messed up his older design since i haven’t reached that yet
Some things I need to talk about @ the first three chapters of The Ship of the Dead
First of all can I say iT’S ALL SO PERFECT??? OMG??? LIKE
- Percy and Magnus’s lowkey like rivalry (kind of)??? Their interactions are just so G O L D E N you know?? Like Percy getting annoyed w/ Magnus and vice versa ahh I love it already <3 aLSO CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT PERCY IN GENERAL
- hE FRICKIN SAID SPQR MEANT “THOSE ROMANS ARE CRAZY” LIKE,, AS A FELLOW ROMAN I WAS TRIGGERED BUT IT WAS G R E A T omg I’ve missed his humor
- Percy trying to be serious when teaching Magnus how to like dive
- wait magnus got chomped by a shark
- ….poor mango baby already needs a break smh
- aLEX FREAKING FIERRO THO. SUPPORTING MAGNUS. AND THEY’RE TOTALLY BROS LIKE?? Omg I’m going to be honest,, even though I shipped fierrochase I wasn’t like freaking out about it becoming canon (even though I knew that would be super cute) bUT NOW GUYS,, OMGGG THEY NEED TO HAVE MORE MOMENTS KJDFNDJSKFBSDJFBSDFKLJSIL also Alex’s Latino //sobs// #LatinoPride yES BUT WHY ARE WE JUST NOW FIGURING THIS OUT RICK LIKE ALEX CAN SPEAK SPANISH jhsdbjhsdbfjsdbhjVHGJ THANK YOU JESUS
- PERCY’S SISTER IS NAMED ESTELLE WHICH MEANS STAR JFKNDFKJNSDKJLFBSDJKLFSDFJKLNDFGLJKDFBNSDI IS THIS BECAUSE ZOE???? AND BOB???? mY HEART–
- also I was SHOOKETH SM WHENEVER THEY BROUGHT UP PERCY’S SISTER I WAS LIKE JKBDJHBSDJFS OMG REALLY???? AHHHH (idk if it was mentioned in toa,, if so,, i wouldnt have know because i haven’t read it ;-;)
- I still believe in the Bianca-got-reincarnated-as-Percy’s-sister headcanon wholeheartedly like i need more Estelle ish in future Riordan books (but pls Rick don’t frick up her life too)
- Annabeth calling Magnus “cuz” saved my life tbh
- pERCY AND ANNABETH’S REACTION TO JACK TALKING
- RIPTIDE. IS. A. FREAKING. GIRL. OHHH MY GOOOD—
- guess jacktide is canon now lmao gods why this became kind of canon but not blitzstone yet,, smh you’re letting me down ricky boi no blitzstone is basically cnaon fight me
- Alex called Percy Seaweed Brain. Hell yes, I need more
- Magnus freaking thinking about Annabeth’s future with Percy and knowing he’d be guilty for it ending due to Ragnarok is FREAKING BEAUTIFUL AND SAD OMG??
- so many unexpected feels from these small chapters, my gods
- //sobs// pERCABETH AND FIERROCHASE HAVING A FALAFEL DOUBLE DATE IS B E A U T I F U L this is my aESTHETIC YALL
- jack you can’t flirt just stop
- PERCY MENTIONED FRANK SDJKFBSDJFBSDKJDSNADJKAS YOUR SHAPESHIFTER INTERACTION HOPES ARE SLOWLY COMING TRUE FAM
- Alex is happy,, repeat, , Alex seems so happy and chill <3 we are blessed
- speaking of which my poor sunshine child mango is like angsty af
- Percy mentioned Magnus should train w/ his team in order to prepare for all the hell they’re about to go to and we see no team bonding exercises like,, how much does a girl have to pay to see the Empty Cup Fam together learning about fighting/teamwork ish with Percy our lord and savior??? i just want to see Voltron level team bonding ok
- “want to come with me to a creepy mansion and look through a dead guy’s stuff?”
“i thought you’d never ask”
guys fierrochase is canon and you can fight me,, also nice pickup line mango you’re worse than Jack
- “fabulously unique” yOU SLAY ALEX!!!! (also Alex’s outfit in this was just yEAS)
- I’m scared to se Randolph tbh,, if he even shows up (which ik he will screw Helheim)
- aw alex and magnus being such adorable book nerds i CANT
So there have been a couple of posts about Sportacus’s book… closet (that is not a shelf) and a few of them have some decent resolution and I just have to say that Sportacus’s reading selection is… pretty specific? We’re talking like picaresque novels, bildungsromans, themes about murder, revolution, revenge, and redemption, heroes fighting against insurmountable forces, disadvantaged young/youthful heroes being shunned by society and striving to get any kind of tiny moral victory, children being the center focus of very dark situations… Kudos to the people who put that kind of thought into what he’s reading but now I can’t ever look at Sport the same way. I don’t want to make too specific a statement about his reading list because I haven’t identified most of the books and read even fewer, but. Dude. DARK.
edit- I forgot a major theme to many of these books: SLAVERY. He even has a book (The Weeping Wood) about the history of rubber production and the exploited Indian slaves!
if y'all would realize in the promo for next week they're kissing from a different angle..
they’re most likely gonna pick up where they left off, and they’re most likely not going to have sex. magnus is going to stop it, alec is going to feel hurt and embarrassed (not that he means to offend or pressure magnus) and he’s going to bolt. he’s going to confide in his parabatai. jace is going to say something to magnus because when you’re bonded by angelic magic, that’s what you do. you look out for the person you’re bonded to. he isn’t going to mean it in an ugly or cruel way. he’s just going to say you need to be careful with him. jace isn’t going to be saying hey you’re feelings don’t matter, because that’s not really who jace is (if you’ve read the books he’s a big fricken softy) and he’s just going to look out for his brother. i really think it’s gonna be okay. they haven’t disappointed us with malec yet. i was like “wtf” at first too, but now that i’ve had time to think about it, this is my opinion.
plus, alec is so inexperienced, he doesn’t know. if magnus says no, i’m more than positive that he’ll stop. when magnus says to stop, yes alec will be embarrassed because he tried so hard. he’ll feel terrible. but i think they’ll work it out, and when they do actually have sex, i’m positive the writers will make it great.
ALSO MAGNUS MOST DEFINITELY KISSED BACK WHEN ALEC WAS WALKING HIM INTO THE ROOM. he’s probably going to stop it after that, but he didn’t push alec off yet.
i have been in the fandom business for quite some time now, 8 years to be exact. i’ve developed a knack for these kinds of things and interpretation. magnus was into the kissing, i just think he’s really nervous about losing alec after they have sex. i don’t think it’s that he doesn’t want it, i just think he’s scared. also if he doesn’t want it, he could stop alec so easily he’s a warlock guys. magnus bane don’t take no shit. he won’t be taken advantage of, especially not by alec. y'all have barely seen any of what happens, i think we’ll get the full story next week.
I’m also hoping the person who gets alec off of the roof is magnus.
so apparently it’s been confirmed that they had sex, but this was posted before that piece of info came out. however, a lot of it still rings true. especially the points i made
still laughing at how wrong i was, but i made some good points guys.
“Beauty and the beast”…… That’s where I got the idea from lol.
Penny needs to be read some good books before bed time, being the alien spider that he is he still has yet to learn how to read. Also his room mates love popcorn. Sewer rats are Pennywise’s best friends so don’t hate them!….I didn’t add the title of the book, I can leave that up to you guys to decide on what they’re reading! Thank you and goodnight!
I know this is a long shot, but I’m wondering if you guys might be able to help me out so here it goes.
I read Wonder when I was in college and immediately knew I wanted to read it to my future students, but I haven’t been able to do that yet because I only have my copy of the book. I know that sounds silly. Just read form the copy, right? Well, I personally can’t process something unless I can see it. When people read things to me, I can rarely understand what I’ve just heard without looking at it myself, and I’ve had plenty of students who were the same way. I’ve also had students who are tactile learners and need to use their finger/a pencil/a line guide to follow along on an actual page.
PLUS, I don’t just want to read the story to them. I want to use it to teach my standards. I want them to be able to break into groups and discuss, reread parts of the book, put sticky notes in the book, etc.
Unfortunately, I can’t do any of this without more copies of the book. And I just don’t have the funds to do that because I need 25 copies to be able to supply one to all of my students.
My school only gives each teacher a $100 credit to a local school supply store. Everything else comes out of my pocket (I literally spent $50 of my own money yesterday to upgrade the seating in my classroom, and that doesn’t even come close to how much I’ll spend to get my classroom ready for this coming school year OR how much I’ll have to spend throughout the school year).
So this is where you guys come in. If any of you are willing to donate a copy of Wonder to my classroom, I would be FOREVER grateful. I don’t care if it’s hardcover or softcover, new or used. I just need copies for my students to read! You’ll be helping to provide a child with a wonderful story!
Here’s the link to my wish list (that’s literally just copies of the book): BOOKS
(If you are able to purchase one, it gives you the option of sending it to my address. Please don’t forget to do that.)
If you aren’t able to donate a copy, please share this!! Thank you all so much!
The one chapter that made me absolutely cry in Sue Klebold’s book:
“In early June of 1999, we read in the newspaper that family members of the victims were being invited to visit the school library, where many of their children had died, before renovations gutted the room.
I knew Dylan could never be considered a victim of Columbine, and we understood why we had not been contacted. Yet we needed to see the place where Dylan had taken his own life, and the lives of so many others. Our lawyer spoke to the sheriff’s department and arranged a visit. We had been living more or less in hiding since the shootings, so we met the lawyers in the parking lot of a hardware store in order to switch cars. The cloak-and-dagger routine, for once, did not feel absurd.
The school was still a crime scene. As soon as I saw the yellow tape, my heart thundered in my chest. As we walked through the corridors, we saw construction workers repairing the damage Dylan and Eric had caused. Patches of black soot on the carpets, walls, and ceilings showed where they had tossed small explosives as they walked through the school. Ceiling tiles had been removed, and sections of the carpets. Sheets of clear plastic covered shattered windows. Not for the first or last time, I was dumbfounded by the magnitude of the damage my son had caused. Workers looked down at us from ladders, and I wondered if they knew who we were.
The library door was locked, covered with a sheet of plastic, and swathed in yellow police tape. Before we entered, the sheriff’s department told us we were there to see where our son had died, and that was all. I felt grateful for the professionalism of the police, and for the respect they showed to all the victims.
I was trembling when we entered. Always looking for answers, I wanted to believe that seeing where Dylan and the others had died would provide me with a revelation, some insight. I hoped I would walk into the room and understand something vital about the events of that day, and about Dylan’s state of mind, and I tried to set my sorrow aside so I could receive any truth occupying the space.
The moment I walked into the room, everything fell silent. I could no longer hear the repairs being made in the hallway. I sensed only two things before I was overtaken by tears. I felt the presence of children, and I felt peace.
The police led us to the place where Eric and Dylan had shot themselves. My heart caught when I saw the long, lean, angular shape marked out on the floor. Of course that was Dylan; it looked just like him. My tears splashed the floor. Byron’s gentle hand was on my back as I knelt beside the shape resembling my son and touched the carpet that held him when he fell.”
Summary: Y/N has always been in love with fairy-tales. They give her an escape from the dark and blood world she lives in. With the new Beauty and the Beast movie coming out soon she’s excited as could be. Her boyfriend Dean however has a few issues with it.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, OFC, Reader
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Warnings: Language, heavy making out, fondling, almost smut, angst, a lot of fighting
A/N: This is my fist part to my Beauty and the Beast AU. Hug thank you to @love-kittykat21 for beta reading and helping me with this! Feedback is always welcomed and I hope you enjoy it as much as I am!
“Hey,” a large hand gripped your shoulder, shaking you gently, “Y/N wake up.” Grimacing, you pulled yourself away from Dean’s body looking up at Sam. He had a big smile on his face, the alarm clock illuminating his face. Looking at the harsh, glaring, green numbers you groaned. It was barely six in the morning and Sam was ready to get going. “Get up, I wanna tell you something.” His voice was soft and timid, attempting not to wake his brother up.
“Okay, just give me a second.” You whispered back to him, getting up as slowly as you could, Dean simply turned away, pulling the crisp white sheets along with him.
So I’ve always wondered how it would have gone if Rhysand had gotten the chance to tell Feyre about him being her mate himself. So this slight AU takes place the day after the Inn scene and assumes they had never been shot down and the Suriel wasn’t in the picture.
Rhysand grasped me tightly in his arms as he aimed us towards his Velaris townhouse below. The city was a canvas of lavender and orange in the fading light, the lanterns lining the winding Sidra like a chain of stars.
As he held onto me, I tried not to notice the way his torso was pressed up against mine, every contour of that strong body matching up with every soft curve of mine, the way his muscles eased and stretched with every flap of his enormous velvety wings.
I let my head lean in to the crook of his shoulder and jaw, resting there beneath. I could almost fall asleep, despite my usual terror at flying with the Illyrians. I was so comfortable in his arms. I let my eyes close for a moment, savoring the warmth between us.
My mind wandered, and maybe it was the closeness of our bodies, but my thoughts took me to the night before…remembering the way we had tangled and touched in that tiny bed at the Inn…the way he had felt propped up behind me as I yielded to him…the way he had run his hands over me…how much I had wanted him to just take me fully…it was enough to set me aflame right there in the sky.
I jerked my eyes back open and tried to focus on the leather detailing of the lapels of his Illyrian training jacket, anything to stem those traitorous thoughts. I counted the threads in the silver embroidering of his undershirt, counted the buttons below that, opened loosely over the russet skin of his tattooed chest. The chest that was broad and smooth with muscled strength…another wave of warmth ran down me, pooling at the core of me and I bit my lip hard, hoping he wouldn’t notice the strain across our bond.
I edged a glance upwards at his face, wondering if perhaps he too was remembering our night…but his dark brows were furrowed, his eyes faraway and focused. I swallowed, wanting to say something, address this thing between us, whatever it was.
We had scarcely spoken the entire way home after those hours training in the Steppes. I could sense he had wanted to say…something. I had indeed caught him several times opening and closing his mouth as if starting to speak before thinking better of it. I had shrugged it off, busying myself instead with my own training. But I wouldn’t be able to ignore it much longer, especially now that we had permanently crossed some invisible line that had been drawn in the sand between us these past few months.
As we touched down on the Townhouse roof terrace, I let out a relieved sigh at the reliable feeling of a steady surface below us. He set me down gently and removed his hands from me quickly, as if he were afraid of repeating last night so soon.
He straightened up, adjusting his elegant leather jacket as I tried to rearrange the tussled strands of my windswept hair. I watched his deft and graceful hands button the places his shirt it had gone loose from our day of travel, wanting so much to feel those nimble fingers in me again…
But no. I couldn’t let those thoughts in. I reinforced my mental walls of adamant, envisioning them wrapping in more vines of protection. Whether from his intruding thoughts or my own traitorous ones, I wasn’t sure.
“Dinner,” was all Rhys murmured after a moment, gesturing to the stairwell to our right. His eyes did not meet mine as we quietly made our way down to the dining room, where I hoped to find Mor or Amren or…anyone really. Anyone to fill the heavy silence between us.
The corridor of the Townhouse was dark, the last bits of sunlight streaming in from the stained glass windows casting a low glow over the floorboards. I watched my boots as we descended each flight of stairs, marking each of his steps behind me, thinking about how much I wanted to just turn around and hide in one of the passing bedrooms.
When we finally reached the dining room, I was disappointed to find the large oak table spotless and empty, save for two steaming plates of chicken and vegetables flanked by a glass of wine each.
“Cerridwen and Nuala,” Rhysand said in answer to my questioning look, pulling out a chair for me. “I sent a request directly to their minds an hour ago while we were flying. I assumed you would be too tired to go out,”
Indeed he was right, and I tried to arrange my face into some semblance of graciousness as I took a seat. I jumped slightly as I felt his broad hands graze my shoulders, but he was only spreading the napkin out into my lap for me.
Ever the gentlemen, but it irked me for some reason. I shot him a mildly indignant look and snatched the napkin back.
“I can handle that myself, thank you,” I curtly unfolded it myself. But Rhysand only smirked as he made his way around the table to the opposite side where his plate was set.
Damn you, and your damn smirking.
Surprise flashed across his face as he took his seat, before being replaced by that feline amusement I was so used to. I felt a wave of relief at that. Maybe we wouldn’t have to acknowledge last night at all. Maybe we could continue on as normal, unchanged after all.
But something told me that wasn’t going to happen as my body thrilled at the sound of his deep voice in my head, replying,
But that winning smirk worked so well for me last night.
I felt a hot flush creep into my cheeks, but I refused to look at him. I gingerly began cutting my chicken, trying not to let my knife and fork tremble in my hands.
You’ll end up cutting yourself that way, Feyre darling.
I shot my eyes back up to meet the crinkled violet of his as his smirk deepened. I scowled and ignored him, carrying on with my tenuous cutting.
The clock on the mantel chimed half past eight, nearly causing me to jump out of my skin at the sudden noise. My eyes caught on Rhys’s movement across the table, it seeming to jar him as well.
“Is it really that late already?” I said, in a lame attempt at small talk.
I watched his face, trying to read any reaction there. But it indecipherable was as he replied smoothly, “It’s been a long day, we should get some rest,”
“Yes, I want another good night’s rest,” I slyly hoped he would catch my intention behind the words. I had slept more restfully last night than I had in months. The fact that it was due to being in his arms was a small matter I wasn’t sure I could handle.
But he only cast his eyes down at my plate.
“Feyre, you’ve barely eaten anything,” he said, and I could see the veiled concern etched within his eyes. I looked glumly down at my barely-touched dinner, the food indeed more moved around on the plate than anything.
“What is it to you?” I asked casually, putting down my utensils on the smooth wood varnish.
A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Are you hurt? Sick?” he asked softly.
“No,” I replied, sitting back in my chair. “I’m fine,”
“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked, lying his hands flat on the table, as if ready to spring to my aid at a second’s notice.
I resisted rolling my eyes as I said, “I’m just…not hungry. Really,” I hoped it would quay the emergent worry in his face. He relaxed, though I could tell he didn’t fully believe me.
“Well, then I suppose if I am just being a distraction,” he muttered curtly, swiftly standing and disappearing the plates with a wave of his hand.
I felt an unwelcome pang at the word. Distraction. What I had asked for last night…not friendship, not a bond…not even love. I internally cringed and watched his dark silhouette disappear up the stairs.
I instantly wanted to run after him…to apologize or flirt more, I didn’t know. But my legs would not move, and any words died in my throat as I heard the distinct click of his bedroom door shutting upstairs.
Ten minutes later, I found myself pacing outside his room, up and down the hallway, praying he couldn’t hear me, couldn’t see what a fool I was.
I nearly knocked once, but couldn’t bring myself to. Couldn’t think of what to say. I had too many questions for him. But I also felt a need to apologize. To explain. But the nerve never came.
Not knowing what else to do with myself, I hid in my room the rest of the evening, holed up in bed with a book in my lap. But I read without really comprehending anything, my hands mechanically turning the pages as my mind wandered elsewhere. These months I’d spent here…how he had taken me in, given me clothes and money and food and shelter and everything else. It had begun as a bargain, yes, but now?
I had had his tongue in my mouth and his fingers inside me last night. Yet I had stupidly told him it was just meaningless fun…but I knew, deep inside, that it wasn’t just fun. It wasn’t just a distraction.
And that terrified me.
I sat there in bed, trying to find the right words to say to him until the clock on my cherrywood dresser tolled eleven. So, I gave up and dressed for bed, though sleep sounded as equally unappealing to my racing mind.
After slipping on my satin nightgown and silky robe, I crawled underneath the plush green duvet and switched off the lantern at my bedside. Instantly, the darkness sweeping across the room seeming to gloat at me, yet another reminder of the High Lord no doubt sleeping peacefully down the hall.
But as I drifted, my mind wandered back to that cramped room in the Inn…to the feel of his hands on my breasts, his fingers moving in me, his lips devouring my neck…how I had wanted so badly just to yield fully to him, to let him have me completely. How much that meant to me. How much that frightened me to my very core.
I shivered and clamped my knees together, as if it could keep the wave of want at bay. My mind played the night over and over…the way he had spoken…the bits and pieces he had given me…Let me touch you…Because I was jealous and pissed off…She’s mine.
I stiffened. That was it.
I needed to know. Needed to know what it all meant. What I meant to him.
I clenched my jaw, let out a sharp breath and sent one word down the bond;
The seconds ticked on, and my heartbeat fluttered faster. Waiting.
We have one awkward meal and you’re back to calling me Rhysand?
I fought the tug of a smile that lifted my lips and I shot straight up in bed, though there was nothing in the darkness of my room. It was just his voice inside my head.
Please. I want to talk to you. In person.
Might as well address me as High Lord, while you’re at it.
I rolled my eyes and just sent one word back down the bond:
For a few horrible moments, I thought he wouldn’t come. Perhaps he had decided I was too indecisive, too spiteful, too soiled for him. I put my hands over my face, feeling shame creep in, and slumped down against my pillow.
“Well I suppose if you say ‘please’…”
I shot back up, throwing the covers off me as he appeared in the darkness, as if made from mist, silent and swift as the night. I clenched my bedsheets as I took him in; he was shirtless, loose silk sleeping pants the only thing covering his form, his velvet wings hanging unceremoniously behind him.
With some effort, I fought to keep my eyes from tracing the contours of his torso, the way the pattern of his tattoos tapered off towards his lower abdomen…the corded muscles of his forearms leading to strong hands now dipping into his pockets as he leaned against my bedpost.
“Feyre,” he said in a singsong voice, no doubt tracking where my eyes were. It snapped me from my observance and I flushed warmly.
I could see the slight amusement in his eyes as I met his eyes again.
“You wanted to see me?”
I rose quickly and rather shakily from my bed, the hem of my satin robe hitting the floor and opening the front, revealing the simple albeit very short nightgown I had put on underneath.
“Or perhaps you wanted another distraction,” he said as his eyes drank me in, not a question at all.
I watched Rhys watch me, saw the panic and lust and unsureness cross his face as he took me in, from toes to eyebrows. Saw the silent restraint in his body, the body I had become so used to seeing over these months of training together.
I took a slow step towards him. He stood unmoving, not taking his eyes from mine, though I could now see him grasping that bedpost like it was supporting him entirely.
“Not a distraction,” I said firmly, trying to convey everything I felt in those few words.
He did not hide his reaction to me as he again cast his eyes down my body. I tried to ignore the way my nightown rode up with each step, at the growing impulse to throw my legs around his waist right there and then.
“I need to know…” I hesitated as I finally closed the gap between us. My shoulders tensing, I continued, “…what there is between us,”
His face was unreadable and again he didn’t move, did not even flinch as he held steadfast onto that bedpost, as if one wrong move would send us spiraling into dangerous territory again.
“I need to understand this, Rhys,” I gestured to the small space between us.
I watched his face change again, into something hopeful, but hesitant. His hands finally let go of that post to grasp my arms, lightly running up and down them. It raised goosebumps in their path.
Something drew me into him, something I couldn’t name. Like a tether, ever shortening as the minutes passed…
“Feyre…” he voice was guttural as he angled his head to rest against mine. I heard him breath in. Breathe me in. I did the same, reveling in the citrus and sea that always hovered around him.
“You said you just wanted fun,”
I cringed, and swallowed thickly. “I know what I said, but that’s not what I want,”
“Then why am I here, Feyre?” There was the question. His hands left my arms. My lower lip trembled as I took in his beautiful face. So devastatingly beautiful.
“Rhys,” I steadied my voice, as I asked a question of my own, “Why do you bother?”
Confusion darkened his eyes.
“I happen to find you quite attractive, Feyre,” His hands resumed their exploration, this time running slowly over the curve of my hips, gently tugging the fabric of my gown upwards. “As I have told you many times,”
“Evidently,” I breathed, pushing my pelvis against the new hardness of his, wishing we could just throw away all that had been said and submit fully to this feeling. He gave my thighs a long squeeze as his mouth met my cheekbone, trailing kisses down towards my earlobe. I could feel the cool air kiss my now exposed upper thighs. He bunched the fabric up more, his own hips moving ever so slightly in to crush gently against mine. I stifled a groan, tried to ignore the melting feeling soaring across my body.
“But why bring me here? To Velaris?” I whispered against his jaw as his mouth roamed to my ear, placing a restrained kiss upon its point.
“I happen to find you quite interesting, darling,” Rhys breathed into my ear, but there was panic in his eyes as he straightened back around to face me. He couldn’t hide that, not from me.
“But why bring me here to your home?” I broke from him, taking a step back, stemming this flow of warmth before it consumed us fully. “Why let me sleep in your private rooms? Why introduce me to your family, your court, your—”
“I…care about you Feyre,” Rhys interjected, scanning my face.
“Why?” My voice became strained. “Is it just petty revenge against Tamlin, still?”
“No,” Rhys hissed. “He has nothing to do with this, Feyre,”
“Is it our bargain then? Are you not able to break it or–”
“The bargain is nothing,” Rhys’ voice was flat as he placed both his broad hands on either side of my face. “Nothing,”
And I believed him, but still there was something missing. Something I couldn’t quite reconcile…
“Then why am I here?” Tears escaped my eyes, tears I had kept at bay for too long, tears of frustration, tears of hopelessness. I still didn’t understand. Why he had gone through all these pains to give me a place to be happy. Even if he now felt as strongly for me as I did for him, in the beginning we had been barely more than strangers. It still didn’t add up.
“What am I to you?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Rhys struggled for a moment, his jaw set, his eyes furiously scanning my face again, as if trying to read something within it.
“Feyre, I have to tell you something,” His voice sounded almost shaky, his lips near trembling. “Something I should have told you sooner,”
I had never seen him so…vulnerable. Not in this way.
I waited for him to go on. But he didn’t say anything for a long moment before he gently backed us up until my rear met edge of the mattress. I reached behind me and grasped onto it, anything to keep me steady, to keep my hands from grasping onto him and never letting go.
He leaned in and laid a soft kiss on each side of my neck, before lifting his mouth to my tear-stained cheeks. He gently kissed away my tears, as he once had done Under the Mountain.
“You’re not just a distraction,” I whispered against his face. “You’re…more than that, Rhys,”
I locked eyes with him, and before I could decide against it, I swiftly brought my face to his and kissed him deeply. There was hunger and desperation in that kiss, a kiss we had not truly shared yet.
His hands returned to my hips, running over the bend of them as I pressed myself fully into him, wanting to taste him and feel him and understand this pull between us. And from the way his lips drank mine in, the way his hands roamed my thighs, I knew he was trying desperately to understand, too.
“Rhys…” I said from behind his lips and broke us apart again.
He stood panting before me, eyes closed. His hands went slack at his sides, and he angled his body away again.
“Feyre, don’t…” he trailed off. “I don’t think I can handle it…not again,”
My heart broke for him as I took his hand back in mine.
“Rhys, I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “Just…tell me, please,”
“Feyre…” He gave me another kiss, this time long and sweet, like it held all the words he was about to give me. “There is a story I need to tell you first,”
I imagine after this, Feyre reacts very much the same as in the original, with her fleeing to Mor and demanding to be taken away to think. So you can assume the cabin scene plays out the same in my AU :) Hope you all enjoyed!