old crones

What we really need is an adaptation of the original 1740 The Beauty and the Beast

So were you aware that the The Beauty and the Beast story we all know is a heavily abridged and rewritten version of a much longer novella by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve?  And that a lot of the plot holes existing in the current versions exist because the 1756 rewrite cut out the second half of the novella, which consisted entirely of the elaborate backstory that explains all the weird shit that happened before?  And that the elaborate backstory is presented in a way that’s kind of boring because the novel had only just been invented in 1740 and no one knew how they worked yet, but contains a bazillion awesome ideas that beg for a modern retelling?  And that you are probably not aware that the modern world needs this story like air but the modern world absolutely needs this story like air?  Allow me to explain:

The totally awesome elaborate backstory that explains Beauty and the Beast

  • Once upon a time there was a king, a queen, and their only son
  • But while the prince was still in his infancy, in a neat reversal of how these fairy tales usually go, the king tragically died, leaving his wife to act as Regent until their son reaches maturity
  • Unfortunately, the rulers of all the lands surrounding them go, “Hmm, the kingdom is ruled by a woman now, it must be weak, time for an invasion!”
  • And the Queen goes, “Well, if I let some general fight all these battles for me, he’ll totally amass enough fame and power to make a bid for the throne; if I want to protect my son’s crown, I have no choice but to take up arms and lead the troops myself!
  • (Btw, I want to stress that this woman is not Eowyn or Boudica and nothing in the way her story is presented suggests that she had any interest martial exploits before or in any way came to enjoy them during these battles.  This is a perfectly ordinary court lady who would much rather be embroidering altar covers for the royal chapel and playing with her child until necessity made her go, “Oh no, this sucks, I guess I have to become a Warrior Queen now” and she just happened to kick ass at it anyway.)
  • And the Queen totally kicked ass, but the whole “twice as good for half the credit” thing meant that no matter how many battles she won, potential enemies refused to take her and her army seriously until she had defeated them so no sooner would she fend off one invasion than another one would pop up on a different border.
  • So she spent the majority of her young son’s life away from the castle leading armies, but it was OK because she left him in the care of her two best friends, who just happen to be fairies!  This was an awesome idea because a) fairies have magic, and therefore are like the best people to protect the prince from any threats and b) fairies consider themselves to be so above humanity that the lowest fairy outranks the highest mortal, so they’d have no interest in taking a human throne.  Good thing they were both good fairies instead of one good and one evil one!
  • (Spoiler:  they were not both good fairies.)
  • So the two fairies basically take turns raising the prince until he’s old enough to rule.  And on the eve of his twenty-first birthday, the evil older one comes into the prince’s bedroom.
  • “So listen, kid.  You’re about to become king, your mother’s on her way home from the war to see you crowned, and I have a third piece of good news for you!  You see, I’ve actually been spending so much time here lately because Fairyland’s become a bit too hot to hold me for reasons totally not related to me being secretly evil.  And if I have to hang in the human world, I might as well reside in the upper echelons of it, so even though as a powerful fairy I completely eclipse your puny human status in a staggeringly unimaginable way, since you’re about to be king and since my premonition that I should stick this whole guardianship thing out because you would be hot one day has totally proved accurate (go me), I will graciously lower myself to allowing you to marry me.  Please feel free to grovel at my feet in gratitude.  (Btw, we can totally start the wedding night now, we’ll tell your mother about it when she arrives tomorrow.)”

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he’s the beauty; she’s the beast

so i’m sure the remake of a timeless classic that disney is about to roll out is going to be great and all

but here’s another way we could do things:

he’s the beauty

she’s the beast

for a movie who’s central theme is inner beauty, it doesn’t really do anything to support that, you know? so how about this: adam, our prince turned beast, isn’t an inhospitable monster. because this back story doesn’t make any sense – why is the young prince of this land alone, in a castle, only to be caught unaware by a witch?

so how about this – this is pseudo france, right, so these royals do what their real life counterparts did. they flee. the cruel, greedy king and queen flee and leave their young son behind with their staff. their son who is kind and soft hearted and totally unfit to rule any kingdom (never mind that they’re literally running away from their own people). not only that – they trade their son for their freedom, trade their kingdom for their freedom. to the witch.

so the witch comes, and she doesn’t disguise herself as a crone, goes to him looking as lovely and young as her magic keeps her. but our prince adam has a talent, one many cast-aside, neglected children have developed – the ability to see people for who they really are, and he knows this is no kind young woman in need of his help. he refuses to let her in – and there’s this little twist to the magic, that she can only enter the palace grounds and claim her prize if she’s welcomed in a as a guest, and he, the young master of this castle, won’t let her in.

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its-animalcrazy-love  asked:

For the fanfic trope. A Hogwarts au please and thank you

Ok so before we start the fic, I gotta tell you guys a story. So hogwarts aus are always A PAIN because you usually have to sort the characters into houses, and people get really opinionated about it haha. Like most people will be chill, but then there will be that one guy who’s like “yeah so hunk is such a slytherin”, to which I’ll be like “meet me in the pit you limp dick!”
So anyway, I asked my boyfriend how he would sort the Voltron kids as I was pretty stumped. And he just goes: “Shiro, Lance and hunk are in gryffindor. Pidge is ravenclaw.”
“Hunk is gryffindor?”
“Yeah! I’d say hunk is pretty heroic.”
“And what about Keith?”
“…. I totally forgot he was a character.”
*cue me howling with laughter*
“Alright Keith is hufflepuff because I forgot about him and no one cares about hufflepuff”

So in honour of my dumbass boyfriend, have some gryffindor shiro, hunk and lance, with ravenclaw pidge and Allura, and hufflepuff keith.

Lance, hunk and Keith are fifth year’s at hogwarts and have settled well into their lives at hogwarts. Hunk and Lance became fast friends when they were assigned as roommates in their first year. Their relationship… well specifically lance’s relationship, with Keith had been much rockier. Lance had tried out for the quidditch team and failed, he had been pretty bereft until hunk had explained that first years never made the team. But Keith became the youngest seeker in hufflepuff history. From then on lance decided that Keith needed to be DESTROYED.

But their relationship has since mellowed. Lance became a chaser in his second year under Shiro’s recommendation, and has proved himself to be a valuable member of the team, scoring goals from impossible distances. Hunk is the worlds most savage beater. It’s not unusual to find him at the hospital wing with some fresh brownies for another poor quidditch player that has broken an arm to his hits.

Keith and lance’s rivalry becomes much more joking and teasing, with both of them always volunteering to duel against each other in defence against the dark arts. Professor Alfor has stopped pairing them together. Which is good cuz Keith usually wins. But it’s ok, because Lance is Coran’s favourite student, and he may have sicked a hippogriff on Keith in one of the care of magical creatures classes.

Keith starts sneaking into the gryffindor dorm at night, and Shiro turns a blind eye when he sees him sneaking out in the morning. Keith, hunk and lance stay up late, eating sweets, telling ghost stories, and since Keith is muggle born, he tells them all about their technology and traditions. Keith gets an iPod for Xmas and it BLOWS LANCES MIND. Keith let’s Lance listen to it when they share a bed. Hunk has hit puberty pretty well already, and is too broad now to share with either of them. There’s still the usual “augh! Get your cold feet off of me!”, “did you take a nap in the lake? You real of rotten seaweed”, “better than smelling like sweat and hair grease!” before they pop in the iPod earbuds and drift off to sleep. If hunk catches them frequently spooning he doesn’t say anything.

They have potions with haggar, and both Keith and lance groan. Lance is…. ok at potions, but haggar is such a bitter old crone. He’d much prefer to have someone like Thane as his teacher. Keith is fucking atrocious. He lacks the patience and finesse. Both of them owe all their passing grades to hunk. Hunk is a natural. He’s able to look at potion recipes and mutter “that’s awful advice” under his breath as he goes off book and makes something that impresses even haggar.

They’re making love potions this day. Specifically amortentia, which they’re told will smell like smell like something amazing when it’s finished, but it’s specific to each potion. Hunk finishes his first and reports it smells like fresh baked bread, hot sugar, and nutmeg. Lance is frowning at his cauldron.

“What’s up?” Hunk asks.
“I think I fucked it up. Mine swells like musk and sweat.” He wrinkles his nose. Hunk laughs and goes through all the steps with him, and Lance confirms that he’s done everything. Hunk shrugs.
“Maybe that’s what you’re into? Sweat and musk” he laughs.
“Sweat, musk and soap. Like that real basic kind Kei…” Lance face scrunches like he’s eaten a lemon. He no longer talks about what his potion smells like.

Keith has been perfectly silent on the other side of the table, as his cauldron wafts out the smell of salt, crashing waves, and green tea facial masks.

Lesson 3: Witchcraft 101

Terminology and Basic Theory

By: Headmistress Trick

Live class date and time: 1/3/2017 @ 4:40pm

As with all things in the pagan community, I advise you research twice then come to your own conclusions. Your craft is YOUR CRAFT, this may not be a perfect fit for you, that it okay. We are all  the tailors of our own spiritual clothes.

This course will cover basic terms and tools, the beginner’s theory and practice of simple rituals and how to construct your own spells.

Things that will NOT be covered in this course: In-depth explanations of the various areas of magic. I will provide a basic grand overview, but the purpose of this class is not to delve into any one concentration of practice. If something you hear strikes your interest, please feel free to ask me for more information. If I don’t know about what you’re asking, I’ll find someone that does.


The Basics

The only thing you need to cast any spells whatsoever, is a witch. If you’re sitting in for this course, that’s probably you. You can call yourself any title you choose, practitioner, wizard, sorcerer, magician, crazy person, spiritualist, whatever… Anyway, to perform magick, that is the manipulation of energies to bring about an intended result. This can be done with or without the assistance of deities or entities outside one’s self.

Generally all workers,  even secular ones, have some sort of altar to use as a work space. These are highly personal spaces. They can be simple, grand, portable, stationary, cluttered, clean, whatever you like. It doesn’t have to be fancy or expensive. In traditional Wicca, every tool has a place on the altar. This is by no means is something most practitioners still prescribe to. What you choose to have and use in your practice can be as minimalist or extravagant as you like. You can have all the tools or none of them. It is entirely up with you.

Statues, fetishes (these are small carvings,) or some kind of physical representation of gods or goddesses. Many consider this to be the house that you invite spirits, deities, or entities to inhabit when calling them for spells or rituals. Obviously if you’re secular this won’t be part of your practice.

Candles- Let’s be honest, an altar without a single candle, led or traditional, is a rare one indeed. They’ve a million uses in spells and have their own branch of magic aptly called candle magic.

Bowl- For keeping stuff in. When doing an elemental spell this is usually used to hold water, sand, salt, or dirt, but it can hold anything that needs containing.

Athame- This is a ritual knife. Some people use swords or daggers, some people use a grubby old pocket knife given to them by their great uncle. This is generally used for cutting or directing energy. It is not always sharp and there is a little bit of argument about whether it should be used for non-ritual purposes. Some say daily use dulls the magick inside it, others say it enhances it. I say, it is your knife, use it for what you like.

Bolline- A utility knife actually used for cutting physical objects. If you use your Athame as a functional knife you probably don’t need this.

Cauldron- If ever there was an image of a witch it was an old crone bent over a cauldron stirring away at something nasty bubbling over a fire. These can be used for bubbling toil and trouble, but also for a holding place for burning things.

Wand- Generally a thin stick thing for pointing and directing energy. This can be a myriad of objects from one’s fingers, pencils, spoons, actual sticks or specially crafted wands. Don’t let anyone tell you something can’t be a wand.

Mortar and Pestle- A small bowl with a little club for crushing, grinding and mixing herbs and spices. Be advised that wood, plastics and porous stones can pick up scents and flavours from the things you put in them. Do not use the same set for non-edible items that you do for ones you intend on eating.

Chalice- Fancy cup. Usually used for offering drinks to entities or passing around the group in a coven ritual. Traditionally this is in a goblet shape, but I’ve used a coffee cup in a pinch. Make sure whatever you use is food safe and easy to wash. Do not leave offerings sitting it until they get fuzzy.

Incense- This is sometimes used to represent air in elemental workings. It is best to avoid purely synthetic scents when possible. These will require some kind of holder. A fireproof container filled with sand can serve just as well in a pinch. If working in a group please be sure to ask about allergies and sensitivities to scents.

Grimoire- This is a witch’s go to book for all things that are important enough to write down. Just like a woman’s purse, one should never open and look through another person’s grimoire without express permission. Taking things that are not freely given from it is dangerous at best.

Broom- Used for sweeping energies, especially negative ones. Is wonderful for dissipating said energies.  Not for flying on. Sweep your floor and get the dust out along with the bad stuff.

Drums/bells- Sound can be useful for wards, driving away negative energy and calling attention. They’re also great for keeping time when dancing in a group.

Baskets, bottles, bins- For keeping stuff in. Don’t laugh.

Bucket of water/fire extinguisher- Candles can go from representations of fire to “oh shit my house is on fire” very quick. Safety first.

Stones, crystals, cords, fabric, oils, herbs, salt, flour, chalk - spell ingredients. They’ll end up everywhere unless you contain them in the baskets, bottles and bins I mentioned earlier.  DO NOT CAST CIRCLES OUTSIDE USING SALT. IT WILL KILL WILDLIFE.

Ritual Clothes- Special clothing is by no means a requirement, actually some people say this separates them too far from their craft, like putting on a costume. Others say it enhances the ritual experience for them. Whatever you are comfortable wearing should be what you practice in. Skyclad is a way of referring to being naked, by the way.

Divination tools- Tarot cards, runes, scrying mirrors, crystal balls, tea leaves. Only needed when planning on doing divination.

While none of these things are required to perform any spells, they can be helpful. No beginner should feel they have to break the bank to get a bunch of items they may or may not use. Be wary of materials of anything that will be touching your mouth or eyes. Cheap antique metals especially can sometimes contain lead. Used bookshops, thrift stores, flea markets and yard sales can be gold mines for things to use in your craft.

Many practitioners believe in cleansing and consecrating their tools before using them. They feel any strange energies coming into their space that wasn’t invited can contaminate their spells. There are as many methods of purification as there are stars in the sky, but some common methods are

Ground, cast a circle and call whatever energies into play that you wish to work with. Hold the item above your work space and “sweep” or “cut” away any unwanted energies while calling for the negative to be dispersed. Then you can set the item down onto your altar and  fill it with good energies and intents.

Smoke cleansing, passing a fireproof item briefly through candle flame, bathing in water (charged, rain or crystal water are commonly used for this practice), leaving it in direct sun or moonlight for a few hours or burying overnight in clean soil are also common ways of dealing with negative energies. Some believe a simple spiritual wipe down is all you need.

I have heard some practitioners say the repeat this process any time they use a tool in a ritual, and some simply when they feel the need recharging.

Whatever process you choose, make sure it is safe for you to use on the item and that you feel completely comfortable doing it. If you go into it with uncertainty or negative feelings, you’ll just be imbuing those into the item instead of cleaning it.

Now that you know what kind of tools you might be using, you probably are curious what kinds of magic you can perform. I by no means believe this is a completely comprehensive list. I’m only human after all.

Astral work- The art of using one’s mind to expand your presence and travel beyond one’s physical body.

Black/Dark/ Left Hand Path- This generally is anything that falls outside of the realm of white magic. This can include work that deals with death, blood, hexes, and gathering of power. Not always evil, not always good. This sometimes includes working with demons or fae, but certainly not always.

Cosmic- The use of planetary or celestial bodies in influencing one’s magical workings.

Candle- The use of color and shape correspondences in spells that use candles extensively.

Crystal/Stone/Lapidary- The use of correspondences of types of stones and gems in spells, using the natural energies found within  rock.

Herbalism/Green magic- The use of growing things to make your potions, spells and other magical workings. This generally includes gardening at some point.

Kitchen/Hearth/Cottage- This is household magic. Spells are woven into everyday cooking, cleaning and household tasks. This is a very vast area of magic that can encompass many other sections.

Knot/Cord/String- The use of string and cord for creating spells or charms. A very portable type of spellcasting.

Music/Sound- The use of singing, humming, playing musical instruments or otherwise creating sounds for spells.

Divination- Attempting to foretell the future through various means such as tarot, runes, scrying, reading tea leaves or palmistry.

Sigils, Symbols and Runes- Visual representations of concepts and intents in one’s craft. This can include esoteric alphabets and occult imagery.

Elemental- Working with one or all of the elements to bring about one’s intentions.

Weather- Working in conjunction with and influencing the weather

White/Light- Generally any magic that does not fall into the somewhat unsavory realm of “bad” magic. This does not mean this is the only right kind of magic to do.

There are literal hundreds of types and branches of magic, including specific pantheons of deities that I am not going to cover here, and ethnic or regional types of crafts. I always encourage you to seek out more information on your own.

Before we wind down I want to go over some other common terms that may or may not come up

Familiar- A companion, usually animal, that serves as a host to a spiritual entity or energy. They assist with workings and are generally good to have around. Please take good care of your familiars if you have them.

Coven- A group of witches or practitioners. You do not need one if you don’t want one, but they can be a great support group.

Spell- The working of magic itself.

Incantation- The spoken bit of the spell, absolutely does not have to rhyme, though that can help with memory recall. This can be in any language, though one you’re familiar with would probably be best.

Charm- An object that is created to hold an enchantment, usually carried or worn by the intended recipient.

Channeling- The controversial process of becoming host to another spirit of entity.

Three Fold Rule- The idea that whatever you send out will return to you three times over. This applies to both the good and the bad.

Potion- A mixture of ingredients usually meant to be swallowed by the person the magic is supposed to effect. Please never make a potion out of toxic or dangerous ingredients.

Ointment/Salve- Lotiony sort of stuff that goes on your skin.

Poultice- Soft wet mass of stuff you put on your skin. Usually contains herbs and other ingredients bound together with moss, gauze or flour and held on with a cloth wrapped around the body part

Correspondence- The relation between an item and the energy it influences. Like a type of stone being handy for working with psychic energies, or healing. Black candles being good for banishment and cleansing.  These are not always agreed upon by every magic user.

Enchant- to fill an item with energy or intention

Grounding- The release of negative energy and reaffirming one’s personal boundary of energy and influence

Sabbat- A festival, holiday or gathering for celebratory or ritual reasons

Pentagram vs Pentacle – If you are involved in craft that uses the star in the circle emblem, you should know that a pentagram is just the star, the pentacle is the whole thing within the circle. Calling it a pentagram makes you look like an ill informed goth kid. Always be a well informed goth kid.

Casting a circle- the act of creating both physical and metaphysical barriers for energies.

Shielding/ Warding- the creating of a protective barrier between your target and bad/unwanted things.

Binding- The attempt to hold someone or something and keep it from performing any harmful or unwanted actions.

Banishment/Purification- Casting out of bad energies or influences

Calling the Corners- The concept that the cardinal directions correspond to guardians or spiritual entities and calling upon them to serve as protectors for a ritual

Offerings/Sacrifices- Objects that are surrendered to an entity. Do not perform any kind of animal or blood sacrifice without fully understanding what you are doing and warning anyone else that might be involved in the process. Food, drinks, gifts and offerings of effort are generally more than enough to appease deities or spirits.

Please if you have any questions, please let me know. I will not be answering any questions about specific regional or cultural craft that I am unfamiliar with, but will try to find you resources or someone to speak to about them.

We will be reconvening for class on Sunday to do basic spellwork and go over some common correspondences. We will be doing a simple protection charm so please find an item you wish to enchant. It can be an item you use and keep on you daily or a found item. Any other things you would like to bring to share with the class of your own workings would be wonderful. Thank you and I hope you learned something new.

An analysis on Prince Adam

The marriage between Adam’s parents has never been a particularly happy one. His father is greedy and selfish and payed little to no attention to his wife and child. The marriage is an arranged one, not made for happiness. Adam’s mother is fierce and loves her son into oblivion. Whenever The Prince gets angry (he has a horrible temper) she nurtures her son who always gets scared when his father yells at him. To make him feel better she holds lavish dinners and balls to distract him from his father’s anger. Adam, of course, also has the servants who help The Princess in raising the boy as his friends. He considers them family. But when his mother dies from a long sickness he loses his whole life. His father, now having more control of his heir, keeps him at his side at all times, trying to make him into the son he wants. God forbid he disappoints him. When he returns from lessons or simply spending time with his father with a new bruise forming his friends bow their heads in shame and say nothing. The Prince feels betrayed by the ones who were supposed to be his protectors, his family, his only friends. His father’s words start to get to him. He’s useless, too soft to rule, too forgiving. He’ll never be enough. From this stems his distaste for other people than himself. He’s learnt the lesson the hard way. No one will ever love you but yourself. For years no one touches him but his father, and those moments are when he is terrified. Simply a brush or look makes him crawl inside his walls and hide in fear.

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anonymous asked:

your story was so funny omg. do you have any more?

  • So i lived the town over from my high school, and had to catch the bus like an hour and a half every day to and from
  • (a movie. thats a fucking movie, every day, twice a day)
  • (I WAS TWELVE)
  • (commuter tragedy)
  • and because we were all stuck together for so long for like six years, we followed the natural inclination of teenagers to be fucking idiots at every chance
  • and we formed this group of bus kids
  • forged by ridiculous travel times
  • bonded in suffering the ridiculous rule of
  • our bus driver.
  • our bus driver was an old, old lady called jeannine
  • (nickname: the grinch, due to the time we were singing christmas carols and she got annoyed and declared that christmas was canceled.)
  • (CANCELED.)
  • (we put up a sign written in texta that said ‘NO CHRISTMAS - SIGNED, THE GRINCH’)
  • (she did not find it funny)
  • jeannine had been driving the bus since time immemorial
  • (and may have of, in fact, been one of the Old Ones)
  • (never confirmed)
  • (but i have my suspicions)
  • Jeannie ran a tight ship.
  • the tightest ship
  • jeannine was the generalissimo of bus drivers
  • she played this talkback radio station over the speaker system
  • and when we were being too loud or she was jut annoyed with us she would turn it up to deafening levels
  • and we would all block our ears, and then having gotten our attention she would turn it down and shout at us
  • when we were REALLY TERRIBLE
  • (like those two weeks after high school musical premiered and we used to have breaking free singalongs)
  • (yeah)
  • (I would have turned the radio up on our asses too)
  • she would park next to the city graveyard
  • (always the graveyard?)
  • (i dont know why)
  • (mental conditioning?)
  • (subliminal messgakng?)
  • and walk/hobble
  • (she was pretty stooped over)
  • (basically she was your standard old crone)
  • (potentially witch)
  • up and down the aisle tellin us how terrible we were
  • so anyway, one year jeannine goes on a two week break for surgery
  • (what surgery? We never found out. Various sources claim knee, hip or shoulder replacement)
  • (could have been a stay at a lazarus pit)
  • (stay woke)
  • and we get a replacement driver.
  • we called him nickelback because he played a nickelback cd over the speaker,
  • on repeat
  • every bus trip
  • EVERY.
  • TRIP.
  • how the hell’d we wind up like this?
  • so free from the reign of terror that was jeannine, we get a bit wild.
  • and by ‘wild’ i mean we:
  • talk above speaking level,
  • eat our food in the ooen,
  • someone busts out a guitar anyway here’s wonderwall
  • its one of these days,
  • that the Great Apple Fiasco happens.

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“We bear the march of ideas,” said the old crone mysteriously. “No, wait, that…” She double-checked the smudged writing on her hand.

“Wow, that’s really deep, actually. I’ve been thinking about writing a book, that would make an awesome starting point.” Caeser was completely oblivious to her error.

Now she had to try and correct course. “Oh, no, I got that wrong. Beware the ides of March. That’s what I’ve been seeing. Middle of the month, gonna be a doozy. A bad cold, perhaps, say, a stabbing.”

“Okay but back to that first thing,” Caesar barrelled on.

The witch sighed. “Sure. Sure, kid. If you live long enough to write a book, go for it. That one’s all yours, free a’ charge.”

“Yeah~ Hail to me, baby,” he said without a trace of irony, putting on sunglasses and tearing off down the road in his obnoxiously loud Harley. He did a wheelie - the son of a bitch actually did a wheelie. Maybe he deserved what was coming. 

So this is a silly fic brought to you by that recent post about The Truth about Florists, and a little bit by that other floristry post from a few months ago. And when I’m not on mobile and it’s not past one in the morning, I will link those. If I can find them again.

===

It’s the end of a long day, and Derek is putting the last of the display flowers in the fridge as the front door bangs open. He frowns; he’s technically closed the shop, but he mustn’t have latched the door yet.

A young man leans on the newly cleaned glass counter. He’s out of breath and a little pink in the face, like he’d run down the whole street, though the color in his cheeks could just be from the cold outside. Fall has come late this year.

The guy’s hands will be streaking the glass. Derek’ll have to wipe it down again when he’s gone. But, his inner Laura reminds him, customer.

“How do you say ‘fuck you’ in flowers,” gasps the man.

Derek’s brows draw together, like a little conference of perplexity above his nose.

“Well,” he says, thinking it out, “I guess you could order white lilies. You know, like for a funeral. Like ‘I wish you were dead’.”

The customer hums. “I like the way you think,” he says. “But no. I’m thinking a more opaque burn than that. Because the ancient withered old-man crone – why isn’t there a good male equivalent to crone? That’s totally sexism – this old guy that I work for is such a spectacular asshole, and he needs to be told so. But, uh, in a way that can’t be traced back to me, because I badly need this job. Because student loans. So I was thinking a burn using the language of flowers, so I get the satisfaction even if he never knows. And it’ll probably make his PA laugh, because Lydia knows all things. And she deserves a good laugh.”

“I don’t actually have the language of flowers memorized, you know,” Derek says.

“What!” says the customer, outraged. “But you’re a florist!”

In the twenty-first century,” says Derek oppressively. “The language of flowers hasn’t been used for a hundred years.”

“You’re breaking my heart here,” says the guy, clutching one hand to his chest. “How am I supposed to tell my crush that they have my sincerest admiration and sweetest love?”

He bats his long eyelashes. Derek is 100% unmoved.

“Buy them some red roses,” he says. “And use your words.”

The guy bursts out laughing. He laughs with his whole body, tipping his head back and exposing the long column of his throat. It is unfair, and Derek is tired, and he wants to go home. He came into work at five this morning in order to get an order done for a wedding for a demanding groom – worse, this is the order for the rehearsal dinner, who even gets flowers for a rehearsal dinner? The actual wedding order will be for this weekend, and he’ll have to get Isaac to help out – and so it’s just Derek’s luck that a cute guy comes into his shop, and is maybe flirting with him? and Derek is way too tired to be clever and witty back. Why couldn’t the guy have come in yesterday? Yesterday his esprit d’escalier was more like esprit de counter, and he’d actually managed to give as good as he got to Erica when she came by in her lunchbreak. Yesterday he could’ve maybe had a chance with this guy. Today he has bags under his eyes and his brain is running at half speed.

“Really? Really? I need to use my words? Dude. You have literally struck me dumb, because no-one has said that to me once in my whole life. I am stunned and amazed.”

“You talk a lot for someone who’s been struck dumb,” says Derek, leaning his hip against the counter. There is a twitch at the side of his mouth which is definitely not the beginnings of a smile.

“He jokes! Let me guess,” says the guy, “you got into floristry – florism? because plants talk less than people.”

Derek says nothing to this, because it’s a little too close to the truth. Instead, he changes the topic.

“Anyway, you don’t find most books agreeing about the meanings,” he says, tidying the sheets of decorative paper by the till. “Not if you look at the more obscure flowers, and not just, you know, roses or mums or whatever.”

“You do know about the language of flowers,” accuses cute guy.

“Not really,” sighs Derek. “Not enough to be able to make you an arrangement. I read some books on floriography, but it was a long time ago, and I never committed anything to memory.”

Floriography,” repeats the cute guy, looking utterly delighted. “Okay. So, how big a bunch of flowers could I get for fifty dollars?”

“Mm, about this big,” says Derek, sketching out his seventy dollar arrangement in the air. What? It’s his damn florist’s. He can give a cute guy a discount if he wants. He has rehearsal dinner flower arrangement money in the till, it’s fine.

“Nice,” says the cute guy, nodding. “That’d be the perfect size. That should burn him. So. I’ll go away tonight, get my research on – I’m gangbusters at research, research is my bitch – then I’ll come back tomorrow night with some ideas? I’ll even manage to come before closing which, sorry about that. It’s just that my boss had us in for some sudden emergency all-staff meeting until six-thirty for no obvious reason other than to mess us about. I was meant to leave at four today. It’s Lydia I feel sorry for, though. She had to rearrange her dinner, it was a whole thing.”

He yawns, and it’s catching. Derek can barely suppress his own.

“Anyway!” The guy says. He fishes in his messenger bag until he finds his wallet. “I’ll bring the research tomorrow, then can you deliver the flowers to Gerard the next day? I’ll write down the address.”

“Sure,” says Derek. “So long as we don’t pick out anything that I don’t have in stock.”

“No super obscure flowers like aconite or whatever, check.” He snags the notebook that Derek keeps by the till and scribbles down the address. “I’m Stiles, by the way,” he says, without looking up. He adds STILES at the bottom in blocky letters, and follows it with a phone number. “Um, so. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow after work.”

“I look forward to it,” says Derek, then mentally facepalms as Stiles gives him an odd sort of smile. Then the front door closed behind him and he was gone.

*

That night, Derek pulls out his old book on the language of flowers. He found it at a second-hand bookshop when he was fourteen, and since he’d been obsessed with ciphers and secret messages at the time, he bought it.

The book hadn’t given him any clues as to ways to keep his diary secret from Laura, but there was something about the quiet messages that appealed to him: pansy, think of me; bay leaf, I change but in death; peach, your qualities, like your charms, are unequalled.

Sooner or later, however, the book had been borrowed by someone, or relegated to a scarcely used part in the family bookshelves, and he’d barely thought of it again. It occurs to him that the quiet hours he’d spent at the nursery with his father might not have been the only influence on his choice of career.

Thoughtfully, he pulls a notebook towards him and started taking notes.

*

“Okay, so, obviously I couldn’t get to a library today because work, but I have crosschecked like six different websites, and possibly have not sleep enough. But I have a list! I don’t suppose you keep hemlock on hand?”

Derek looks up, and is somehow unsurprised to see Stiles coming into the shop. He doesn’t know anyone who would be halfway into a conversation before clearing a doorway.

“Not since I gave up my hobby of poisoning philosophers, no,” he says. “And I’m not sure a plant mostly renowned for its lethality is really a subtle burn.”

“Shame,” says Stiles, pulling out a sheaf of papers and dropping his messenger bag by the counter. “The meaning was ‘you will be my death’, and truer words have not been spoken.”

He runs his long fingers over the top sheet, flattening it out, and passes it to Derek. Derek picks up a pencil and crosses out belvedere and hops. He taps the pencil against his mouth.

“This’d be very primary colored,” he says. “Also I think I would pick either lavender or geranium, but not both.”

“Uh, lavender, then,” says Stiles, watching the pencil’s movement. “Shame about the belvedere. ‘I declare war upon you!’ It’s exactly the sentiment that I wanted to convey.”

“We agreed to limit it to things I’ve got in stock,” Derek reminds him.

“Ruin all my fun. Oh, hey, who’s that one for?”

Derek follows Stiles’s pointing finger, and sees to his horror that the arrangement he’d been working on is still on the bench behind him.

“Nothing,” he says. “I mean, no-one.”

“It’s not mine, is it?” Stiles says as he shuffles his paper pile, and Derek wants to die. “Except, no, pink carnation’s got a nice meaning. Aw, ‘I will never forget you’. That’s sweet.”

He looks up, and catches Derek’s panicked expression.

Are they for me?” he says quietly.

“Fine, yes.”

He puts them down in front of Stiles, but can’t convince his hands to let go of the box.

“They’re not finished,” he says, staring down at them. “I haven’t put the ribbon around or anything …”

“They’re beautiful,” says Stiles. He lifts them out of Derek’s hands, and their fingers brush. Derek feels every little point of contact like electric sparks. “What’re the lilacs mean?”

“First emotions of love.”

“Aw. What about the tulips?”

“Declaration of love.”

“So forward! Did you do research for this?” He looks up. Derek shrugs. “You did! You did research for me! I don’t think anyone’s ever researched for me.”

Stiles is grinning at his flowers, turning the arrangement around in his hands so he can examine it from all sides. Derek wishes he’d spent more time on it.

“Oh!” says Stiles. “I nearly forgot. I brought you these.”

He opens his messenger bag and brings out a bouquet of red roses, cellophane wrapped and only slightly squashed. Derek takes them from him, dumbfounded.

“Sorry,” says Stiles. “It was a stupid idea, just forget it—”

He reaches for the bouquet but Derek clutches at them.

“No,” he says. “I love them. No-one’s— no-one’s brought me flowers before.”

“Oh,” says Stiles. He licks his lips. “That’s— that’s good. Anyway, they were only the first part. The second part is this: ‘You have my sincerest admiration and sweetest love—’”

Derek puts the flowers aside and draws Stiles in for a kiss.

Samsara [Part IV]

General Disclaimer

Motherhood is everything and nothing like she imagined. Whatever feelings Shachi has for her husband utterly pale in comparison to the bewildering joy she experiences when her first child is placed in her arms.

Even Indra is unable to hide his amazement as he tentatively reaches out to place a hand on the infant’s downy hair. There is nothing of the godlike warrior about him when the infant is passed to him. Exhausted from a long labour, Shachi can only watch him with their daughter and marvel. It occurs to her that perhaps he’s never seen anything like this before.

For an intelligent man, he really did miss the basics, didn’t he?

Unlike Sakura’s usual commentary, there is a something bordering on amusement in her usual criticism as she watches the ancient demigod and his child. She has seen that soft expression before, after all, and quite recently. Sasuke may not have held their child yet, but the way he gazes at where it grows in her stomach is unquestionably reminiscent.

It’s a relief to know that Indra is capable of such emotion, however far down it’s buried.

Keep reading

Going Away On Business

The Blood Of A Wraythe Must Spill For Further Answers

No Longer Can I Allow For Hoarace Boarace To Stave Off The Old Crone

She Is A Frightening Bhanshee But I Cannot Leave Fear Unconquered

Encounter May Leave Searing Burn In Memory But For Babyboy I Must

I Will Hunt Baba Yaga As The Witch Hunted Me, And The Answers Will Stain The Ground Along With Her Blood

Appetizers

Category: Public Places
Rated M

Another smutastic masterpiece brought to you by my fabulous co-host @wildegreenlight 

There were only two things that made Ministry functions bearable: appetizers and Hermione in a dress, well, more accurately, taking Hermione out of her dress at the end of the night. Dancing wasn’t bad either, as long as it was his wife and not some old crone who wanted to babble on and on about his “war hero” status.

He had managed to escape two of those this evening and avoid a rather forward witch who was interning in his Dad’s department. Kingsley had cornered his beautiful wife half an hour ago, and he was now scanning the crowd trying to locate her.

A moment of unease furrowed his brow; even though he knew it was a bit silly, he always felt better when he knew she was safe, especially in large crowds. Before he could work himself up too much, Ron felt a hand on his back and another one slip into his pocket.

“Looking for someone?”

“Yeah, my wife, you seen her?”

“Not sure…what’s she look like?”

“You couldn’t miss her: she’s the most gorgeous witch here.”

“She must be to land a catch like you… not be too bright though…leaving you unattended…there’s all manner of birds swarming about. I’m sure they’d love to get their hands on such a fit specimen as yourself.”

Ron turned around, chuckling as he gazed into his wife’s eyes; they sparkled in that playful way he adored.

“Thank Merlin you’re back! I was positively afraid for my life out here alone.”

“You poor thing! How can I ever make it up to you?”

Keep reading

2

The Crone Necklace

The Crone - a wise old woman, witch, the mistress of the forest and the keeper of the underworld gates. Beside the main meaning there is a wordplay: the crone, the crown (of a tree). And here it is: a lustring stone, like the moon or other celestial body, breaks through dark branches and is placed in an antique silver crown. The other element of the necklace is the claw. In many ancient beliefs birds have symbolized a guide into underworld, they carried souls from our world to another. That is the reason why the habitation of “the crone” in slavic folklore (yes, it is Baba Yaga) stands on “chicken legs” in the place were the forest ends and the realm of the dead begins.

Poker Night

Skolas: Alright guys let’s get this game night started. No cheating alright!

Atheon: I promise

Crota: Yeah Yeah let’s just get this going old crone.

*CROTA USES OVERSOUL TO LOOK BEHIND THE OTHER TWO’S BACKS*

*ATHEON FREEZES TIME TO LOOK AT THE OTHER TWO’S CARDS* 

Skolas: HOW THE FUCK DO I KEEP LOSING!?!?

Atheon&Crota: Because you just suck.