the glitter thread

🌺 Rapunzel Healing Spell 🌺

🌺 gather: a lily, sun water, gold glitter, white and purple thread, vanilla

🌺 sprinkle the inside of the lilly with the glitty and vanilla

🌺 close and wrap the lily up with the white and purple thread.

🌺 lay the lily in the sun water,, and sing/chant

“Flower, gleam and glow, let your power shine
Heal what has been hurt, change the fate's design
Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine
What once was mine…” 

🌺 drink the sun water. take precaution not to consume glitter. 

🌺 brush you hair, comb it with the remaining sun water. 

3

“[Aslaug] was the shield maiden Brynhildr’s daughter and was anxious to make her position known so her costumes are grand and very theatrical,” explains Joan Bergin (The costume designer for Vikings). To that end, she makes her grand arrival – hugely pregnant – clad in a glittering gold threaded gown and swathed in a colorful furs. “Those huge burgundy color furs and the girl is six feet tall and 8 ¾ months pregnant! Everyone went ‘Oh, my God!’”

  • junkrat, waving a pink cocktail as he talks: i'm thinking... glitter
  • junkrat: sheer, light, floaty. with threads of glitter.
  • reaper, sketching notes, with a pencil clipping slightly thru his ear: so, the opposite of last year.
  • junkrat: right.
  • reaper: fairy's a little on the nose, isn't it?
  • junkrat, sipping cocktail: hey, be glad i talked hog out of his fursuit idea
  • reaper: hold on. i wanna hear this.
  • roadhog, without looking up from his romance novel: 's not a fursuit. it's a were-boar costume
  • reaper: oh, that's good. i'm over-ruling him, you should do that
  • junkrat: oi, oi, wait a tic!
  • junkrat: if roadie gets to wear a fursuit on halloween, so do i

Night walking protection & invisibility glamour

For those of you in need of safe passage after dark, whether you’re out drinking with friends or roaming between ports, I’ve made a spell jar for night travel protection and invisibility.

As a lifetime collector of curio, I had lots of weird stuff laying around even before I started practicing, which I now use in my craft (that hobby of mine was perhaps a sign of things to come). But there are several redundant ingredients in this jar, and if you only have one for an intended purpose, that will serve you just as well.

  • A jar small enough to carry (a sachet is good too)
  • *Cat fur (for watchfulness, intuitiveness, silent movement)
  • Mugwort (protection, safe travel)
  • Poppy seed and/or mustard seed (invisibility, confuse enemies)
  • Paper and pen
  • Safe travel sigil (I used a pair of Icelandic sigils, one on each side, against theives and against evil by land and sea)
  • Dark blue glitter (protection, invisibility)
  • Gray thread (glamour, invisibility)
  • Candle (either dark blue, or one of the gray-scale colors: white, black, or gray)

Draw your sigil on your paper and charge it however you prefer, but a silent method may be preferable in this case. As my sigil was double-sided, I held it between my wrists and charged it with my pulse.

Set aside your gray thread. Light your candle(s), and begin placing the rest of the ingredients inside your jar as you focus on stilling your energy, cloaking it from those around you.

Take your gray thread. As you tie a knot in one end of the thread, whisper,

I pass through the night silent, light-footed,

As you tie a knot in the other end, whisper,

Invisible to all the monsters of the darkness,

Now loop the thread snuggly around the neck, and as you tie a knot to secure it, whisper,

And the shadows protect me from harm.

Cap your bottle and use wax from your candle to seal.

If you leave decently long ends on your thread, you can tie it onto a necklace, belt loop, etc, to wear.

*I hope this doesn’t need saying, but just in case, please collect your cat fur ethically. I used saved fur from a deceased kitty of mine. If you have your own cat, use shed hairs if possible. You can also scritch a friendly kitty with bent fingers, which they will enjoy, and after a few passes you should have a bit of hair on your hands.

when the stars whisper

Originally posted by 1980vibes

Genre: fairy!au, based on @lthyl ‘s request which i delayed for a decade and half :*

Pairings: readerxjimin

Words: 3.5K

Summary:  When did we stop believing in fairy tales? 

PART 1, PART 2


There’s something whimsical about tonight. Maybe its  the way the stars appear brighter than usual, adorning the inky night sky like sprinkles of gold dust.

Underneath the vast expanses of the starlit skies, the city hustles and buzzes with life. Jimin watches closely, the way humans scurry around like ants lost in a maze of concrete jungles and streetlights. From where he sits perched at the very edge of a skyscraper, wind blowing his golden hair, he feels a certain longing bloom, unfurling its hopeful petals inside his chest.

 Hope is a treacherous thing and he’s afraid of the dangerous desires brewing deep within him.

It’s funny, he thinks, how humans waste away their lives longing for fairy tales and a life of wandering amongst the stars, but the stars don’t hold Jimin’s attention tonight. The only thing he painfully longs for in vain, is something further away to him than the stars are to the humans on this particularly starry night.

 *

There seem to exist certain blank spaces in between the events that you cannot recall for the life of you, and as you stare at the blossoms of blue and violet underneath the skin that stretches taut across your wrists, you can only hope that the you from the night before hadn’t really been involved in anything life changingly stupid.

Being the ever studious and ever so meticulous university kid you’ve always been, it’s hard to decipher what exactly had possessed you the evening before an extremely crucial test to give in to the whining persistence of your sometimes annoying best friend.  

“You’ve been glued to your desk for days, Y/N!” You remember her complain to you in her chirpy voice over the phone. “You need, like NEED, to blow off some steam before you self implode…  explode whichever.”

You spring off the bed, warily approaching the full length mirror that stands in the corner- it’s metallic edges, glint silver in the bleak morning light that now filters in past your rather translucent curtains, throwing a weak yet mesmerising spectrum of iridescence on your white walls. Giving into her constant whining had obviously been a bad idea when she had waltzed away from your side quite early into the night never to return again. Dancing had never been your scene so you groan somewhat remembering yourself flopped at the bar closest to the dance floor instead, as you tried to hold a pretty slurred and very much one sided conversation with the poor bar tender about the beauty of trigonometry.

Assessing your haggard reflection, you’re quite surprised that your drunken self from the night before had somehow held enough decencies to have at least changed out of the skin tight dress before losing to the sweet oblivions of sleep. You inspect your skin closely, twirling around in your ivy blue nightie that barely reaches the top of your thighs, and you’re genuinely pleased when you see no other bouquets of shameful violet decorating your skin. But apart from that, you’re a mess really. Your hair’s a hay stack- with your artfully styled curls resembling more of a bird’s nest now, and your eyeliner’s smudged, as if you had been crying your soul out all night. All that remains of your bright lipstick, is the faint residue of dusted rose that sits engrained within the delicate grooves and creases of your lips and you surely look like a character straight out of some low budgeted horror flick.

In that moment, you halt all movement, surprised when in the wake of a very faint memory which is enshrouded in a brilliant brightness and yet too fuzzy and unreal for you to be able to actually focus on. A slight tingle rushes across the plump flesh of your lips and you bring your hands to your mouth, running thin fingers over them, as you feel your heart beat quicken, for well, seemingly no reason.

“Well, well now-” A sickeningly sweet and ridiculously melodic voice, rings out across your room, and you jump, literally jump a mile out of your skin as you whip around.

“How good of a kisser I must be that you’re still feeling the after-shocks of last night, eh?”

Your mouth falls open in silent terror when your wild eyes finally find the boy, the absolute stranger, who lounges lazily on your bed as if he very rightfully belongs there when you definitely remember waking up alone. He stares back at you, a shamelessly wide smile stretching on his pretty lips, and the smile screams trouble and is nowhere close to sincere. You slowly back up against the wall, your trembling knees seeking the support of something stable because they threaten to give in otherwise.

He rakes a hand through his dishevelled hair, golden strands threading in between his slender fingers before slipping through like fine silk and despite the bubbling fear, you feel your heart flutter in a manner so strange that it’s novel. It thumps like a bass drum against your ribcage- and you’re almost certain that none of it is just because of the adrenaline that pumps alongside fear in your veins. You only watch mesmerized- so thoroughly smitten by the strangers beauty that you actually find yourself almost forgetting that you’re, infact, supposed to be scared, and, no matter how useless an attempt you should be desperately yelling for help. 

“W-who-wha-you?” You stammer out incoherently and your voice is an unfamiliar squeak. 

However he seems to understand, smirking devilishly in response as he, without a care, without a shame, locks his arms around the back of his neck only to lean back comfortably against the head board of your bed. His eyes never leave yours the entire while and you find yourself, withering away by the minute under his intense stare.

“So you don’t remember me? I’m kind of hurt here.” He sneers, smirk wiping clean off his face as a feigned hurt takes over his perfectly sculpted features.

 "I’ve n-never seen y-“ you are cut short and your claims still hang in the air with an empty hollowness because just then he moves so fast, you’d deem it humanly impossible.

And within a flash he’s standing in front of you, grabbing at your wrists  the moment you throw your hands up in defence. With an iron clad grip he harshly pulls you towards the bed, all along treating your body as if you were no more than a life sized rag doll. You let out a piercing scream that’s cut short when you stumble, helplessly falling flat on top of the mattress. Air whooshes out your lungs in a loud huff and alarms go off in your head as you take in the predatory stance with which the boy then leans down, hovering on top of you- trapping you like a defeated animal within the cages of his strong arms, effortlessly barring all your escape routes from underneath him.

“Humans are awfully forgetful.” He accuses, voice sounding a bit breathless. A thin veil of nonchalant calmness masks a desperation, an urgency much greater than what he shows. You swallow, shrivelling like a dead leaf under his the venomous gaze. You’re scared out of your mind, finally realizing how utterly helpless you really are. Lying underneath an absolute stranger in your own bedroom which had suddenly started to feel so foreign in his unwelcomed presence, you’re too afraid to envision the various blood stained scenarios that threaten to conquer your consciousness.

You whimper softly, a lone tear leaking down your face before you can even realize. Past your blurry vision you try to read the expressionless mask the stranger wears on his beautiful face, but it gives off absolutely nothing. Seeing your pitiful state, something seems to shift in his gleaming eyes, and appearing almost apologetic he straightens up, releasing you from his stronghold with an exasperated sigh. He’s obviously irritated by your inability to recognize him but no matter how hard you try to reach out for the memories that might hold even a fleeting glance of his face, his presence, you come up with absolutely nothing.You wipe your eyes, roughly with the back of your hands and as your gaze shifts up, you very embarrassingly notice, for the very first time the lack of clothing on the boy. He wears a pair of tight black jeans, hugging his thighs just right and ripped artfully at his knees and thighs, but other than that his lean yet muscular torso’s completely bare. It’s strange but you can’t help but notice the way he wears his own skin, with a kind of poise that makes his part-nakedness appear absolutely normal. Infact he even appears regal.

He begins to pace the room lazily, his hands covering his troubled eyes.

When he pauses for a moment his body facing the window and the streaming sunlight at a certain angle, it is as if you’re really looking for the first time and your eyes land on something you absolutely don’t believe seeing. Shaking your head, you blink rapidly- but they refuse go away; they don’t vanish into nothingness like they should, for there was no way on earth that they were real.

But given the angle they are at, growing like giant petals from his shoulder blades are the two thin membranes, fluttering a mile a minute. The boy cocks his head, turning to look at you over his shoulder, as if somehow sensing your bewildered gaze boring into his back. You find it hard to wrap your head around the fact that, indeed there are wings protruding from his back. W.I.N.G.S you spell out in your head for your sanity’s sake. For a moment they still, letting you see the network of veins running all throughout them like threads which glitter like gold everytime they catch the peeking sunlight.

"What are you?” you ask shakily, after maybe minutes or maybe an hour of being rendered speechless.
“A fairy.” He replies, as if he’s only stating the obvious and as if you're nothing more than one those difficult five year olds who only question the most self-explanatory things.

And then it hits you like a ton of bricks, the memory seeping in behind your closed eyelids like the same golden glow that that had lit up the darkest of alleyways the night before, as if the sun had descended down to the earth, merely to brighten that narrow strip of the world around the two of you. The memory comes with the soft sensation of his plushy lips, gently moving in sync against yours, the motion being so sweet, so full of emotion that you can physically feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach like a volcano. You can feel his harsh grip on your wrists, an action contrary to the ministrations of his gentle mouth and you can almost hear his ragged breathing, the thumping of your hearts. As the kiss gets fiercer with both passion and raw desperation so does the blinding light, which seems to be emanating from him somehow, grows brighter by the minute.

The memory comes to an abrupt end the same way the glowing boy had vanished from underneath your touch the night before, leaving you-reaching out for thin air, only to find nothing but the cool damp brick walls and the eerie darkness of the night.

“You’re the guy from the club last night!” You exclaim, cringing at how loud you were being.

He clicks his tongue, chuckling slightly as he turns to face you. “More like: You’re that absolutely breath-taking guy I made out with last night.” He corrects slyly, watching you become a hot mess with your blushing cheeks and indignant huffs.

 "Who also happens to be a psychopath, who calls himself a fairy.“ You retort.

But then your face is serious again, your eyes wandering over to find the tips of his wings,  rising from behind either of his shoulders, the very reminders of the queer possibility that the boy who stands in front of you might not even be human. "Fairies don’t exist.” you state bluntly, not wanting to believe any of it in fears of losing your sanity the moment you do.

“Yeah, the same way your brain doesn’t.” He mocks openly, eyes alight even though his face is deadpan.

“That’s it. Leave now or else I’m calling the police. Hell how did you even break into my room?” You threaten, trying to sound as convincing as possible even though you know your phone’s probably still in your bag which is very conveniently nowhere in sight. You’re sure he senses the emptiness of your threat as well for he shrugs as if to say go ahead, challenging you to do something you obviously can’t do. You don’t move an inch not knowing what to do really. Your eyes keep returning to the wings and you ache to touch them speculating whether they’ll vanish like a dream even with the slightest of your touch.

“What’s holding you back babe?” He asks you the obvious, enjoying your discomfort more than he should. “Just a quick reminder though… most normal humans don’t really see me. Also you should stop staring so much. ” He mutters the last bit and shocked you avert your eyes cursing yourself silently for being so stupid.

“Why do I see you then?” You ask wondering if he was only bluffing you just to keep you from calling for help.“That’s my question to you.” He says in response baffling you even further. “Why do you see me Miss Human.”

You don’t know whether you should laugh, at the sheer absurdity of it all. Not only was a psychotic full grown man telling you that fairies exist, but apparently you were a psychopath as well, seemingly gifted with some supernatural vision of sorts. What were you? A ghost whisperer for crying out loud?

“I’m real” he says, as if reading the turmoil that’s churns loudly in your head, his words looking to reassure to you, your sanity in this absolutely mad scenario. You give your head a shake when you find yourself almost believing him. No way any of this was real.

“Why are you here then?” You ask, standing your ground now more than ever. “Shouldn’t you be fluttering around in some magical meadow tucked away in the forests of never land sprinkling gold dust like confetti?”

“Well, yeah I truly should be.” He replies sounding rather honest, and it takes you aback.  “Also the pollution of the city is affecting my health- I don’t get how you humans live in such filth. Also Namjoon must be missing me.” He completes, saying it all more to himself than to you. You do not understand, neither do you wish to. You were an ordinary girl in an extremely ordinary world. You plaster an awfully fake smile onto your face. “You don’t wish to live in this little pigsty like world of ours, right? Then maybe you should just leave.”

 He chuckles and it’s a rather beautifully troublesome sound.

“Not just yet. This world might be a pigsty but I think I just found my favourite little piggy.”

 *

Time waits for no one.

Neither do you, Y/N- who won’t allow a strange nonsensical fantasy to threaten your very sensible reality. Y/N has never been late for a lecture in her entire 20 years of living and today was going to be no exception.

You storm into your bathroom before he can react, his little term of endearment grating on your nerves as if it were steel wool. You make sure to lock the door behind you (not sure if it were enough to keep a creature like him out though) as you turn on the faucet getting ready to shower. All by yourself, you somehow try to restrain the flurry of emotions threatening to claw out of your trembling heart and driving you berserk. You push fear and logic aside, instead contemplating idly as to what might have lead to you getting caught up in such a sheer misfortune spelled out like a curse on you.  Had you woken up on the wrong side of your bed? Or, had the foolish you assassinated the emperor of a holy land in cold blood sometime in your previous life? Either ways fate had finally latched on to your throat, deciding to make you pay in the most insane and mythic of ways; that was for sure.

Somehow pulling together a somewhat decent outfit and pulling your unruly hair back into a pony tail you stumble back out into your room. For a moment you hope to find the place empty, hope that the fairy had finally crawled back into his fairy tale where it rightfully belonged; but to your disappointment, like an embodiment of every single misery of your own, he stands there, arms crossed across his still very naked chest, in the very middle of your room. The memory from last night trickles into your mind and your heart beat grows erratic once again. An irrational part of you aches to be that close to him once again and that irrational you aches to feel him against you in a way where it was hard to tell where he began and you ended. A shameful blush blooms across your cheeks and you can only hope that it slips his attention. How many eons would it take to grow immune to his obvious good looks?

“Definitely not as sexy as last night but I still approve.” He sings and he seems to be scrutinising you the same way you’re doing him. And the sinister smirk on his astoundingly beautiful face makes the last of pink from your face fade. You literally growl at him in irritation, wondering if a human was strong enough to rip a fairy’s annoyingly pretty head off. However, violence wasn’t an option when your race against time had no intention of losing its pace and if you didn’t hurry you’d be late for your test.

“Go back to your mythical land you useless creature. I’ve got reality to attend to.” You sigh dejectedly, not knowing what to do or expect. How long was he planning on lurking around here? And it’s only for a moment but the smugness falters from his face, and you catch a glimpse of regret and something entirely else through the cracks.

You turn around not wanting to see anymore. Grabbing your house keys from the nearly shelf as you head towards the door to your apartment, you half-heartedly hope that a fairy would have better intentions than burglarizing the flat of an already debt ladden university student. “Well then I hope you enjoy your stay here. Just make sure you disappear by the time I get back.” You say without turning back. Your words are met with silence when you had very much been expecting a lame sarcastic retort and you whip around, your eyes searching for the fairy but finding him nowhere. Maybe you had hit a nerve with your sharp words, maybe you had been a bit too harsh. He was gone.

You should be rejoicing, truly rejoicing. Afterall, you had finally woken up from your rather drawn out nightmare, but you fail to understand why instead of relief your heart gives you a painful squeeze, leaving you slightly breathless and uneasy. You think back to the inkling of sorrow you had witnessed on his face a few moments ago and you find yourself curious as to how devastatingly beautiful the curve of his plush lips lifted into a genuine smile would look like. You didn’t even know his name, that is, if he had one.Guess you’d never know now and maybe it shouldn’t bother you this much. He was gone and this was definitely good riddance.

You’re not convinced.

“What’re you spacing out for?” His voice rings out once again but definitely not from where you expect it to come from, but you feel the cool touch of his hand as it wraps around your own and you almost immediately jerk back in absolute shock, either from the sudden charge that cackles like electricity where his skin’s comes into contact with yours or from the fact that he’s standing outside your door instead of inside your room- a door he had definitely never gone through. Of course you think.

“So where are we headed?” He asks, his mask of smugness back on in full throttle and the mischief in his voice as present as ever.

“School.” You mutter brushing past him as you go on ahead before he notices the way a silly grin almost threatens to break through.

“Also… put on a damn shirt you monster.”

8

helen and aline— they were both dressed in golden gowns, golden thread glittering like starlight in aline’s black hair. they were both so happy, their faces outshone their gowns. they stood at the centre of the ceremony, twin suns, and for a moment all the world seemed to spin and turn on them.

for @blackthornhelen, who reminded me we need more heline!!

Blackthorn network team Los Angeles
 
challenge #2: favourite otp with a Blackthorn

H E L I N E
“Helen and Aline were both dressed in golden gowns, golden thread glittering like starlight in Aline’s black hair. They were both so happy, their faces outshone their gowns. They stood at the centre of the ceremony, twin suns, and for a moment all the world seemed to spin and turn on them.” 

Sleep sweetly spell

I have been plagued by night terrors my entire life. To help combat them; as well as the sickly fear I feel upon waking, I created this spell.

This spell is a mixture of candle magic, dream sachets, and knot magic.
As well as a sigil for added strength.

So it will be a bit involved, and this post will be long. Deal.

You will need :

1 tsp Yarrow - to ward against fear
1 tsp Lavender - for healing
1 tsp Hyacinth - for peace of mind
1 tsp Violet - to calm the nerves
1 tsp Rosemary - to ward off nightmares
Dash of Cinnamon - for strength
Essential oil Peppermint - peaceful sleep

As well as gold & blue glitter (to mimic the night sky & stars), tea lights (I use white), thread (I prefer purple), & a swatch of fabric of your choosing.

First take the tea lights out of their foil casing, and pluck the wicks out (set them aside). Put the wax back in the foil casings. Take a metal pan (cover with tinfoil), and put your oven element on low heat. Place the tea lights on the pan.
The pan on the element.

While the wax is melting, take the dried herbs and grind them up in a mortar and pestle. Also use your fingers to rip up the larger pieces, to exert your will upon them. Add the glitter. All the while try to remain focused on your own strength, and your will to see the spell through.

When the wax is melted add around 3 pinches of the mixture to your tea lights (I used 5), and add 3 drops of peppermint to each candle. Turn the heat off, and let the candles harden.
When the candles are hard, roll the sides of the tea lights with your fingers to loosen them, and gingerly take the wax out of the casings. Punch a hole with a nail through the middle of the candles, and fit the wicks through.
Place them back in the casings.

With the rest of the mixture, take a square swatch of fabric and add 5 drops of peppermint oil (one in each corner and one in the middle). Draw a sigil of power if you so choose, and place the paper in the fabric. Add the rest of the dried herbs, flowers, & glitter.
Take some thread and pull it out to your arms length (or longer if you like), fold, and fold a third time.
Make a knot on either end.

Recite with the first knot “by knot of one the spells begun”, with the second “by knot of two it cometh true”.

Gather the ends of the fabric and wrap the thread snugly around it. Don’t wrap the thread right in the middle, leave it askew so you can hang the sachet above, or by your bed once the spell is complete.
Once the bag is secure, and to your liking, with the remaining thread resume the knots.

“By knot of three I make it be, by knot of four the power I store, by knot of five the spells alive, by knot of six this spell I fix, by knot of seven events I’ll leaven, by knot of eight it will be fate, by knot of nine what’s done is mine.”

Hang the dream sachet above, or by, your place of sleep.

Take a tea light and place it in a lovely candle holder.

Light the candle for however long you want before bed, and sleep sweetly.


*Obviously some of these herbs and flowers can, and do, double up for sleep and such… So if you’re in a fix and can’t find certain things, peppermint, cinnamon, rosemary, & lavender alone will work too.*

some have asked for a snippet to celebrate #lovewins

I thought a snippet from Helen and Aline’s wedding in the TSFA story Bitter of Tongue might be appropriate!

Simon did not fully understand the traditions of the Shadowhunter people.

There was a lot in the Law about who you could and could not marry: if you married a mundane who did not Ascend, you got your Marks stripped and were out on your ear. You could marry a Downworlder in a mundane or a Downworlder ceremony, and you wouldn’t be out on your ear but everyone would be embarrassed, some people would act like your marriage did not count, and your terribly traditional Nephilim Great-Aunt Nerinda would start referring to you as the shame of the family. Plus with the Cold Peace functioning as it was, any Shadowhunter wanting to marry a faerie was probably out of luck.

But Helen Blackthorn was a Shadowhunter, by their own Law, no matter how many people might despise or distrust her for her faerie blood. And Shadowhunters had not actually built it into their precious Law that Shadowhunters could not marry someone of the same sex. Possibly this was just because it hadn’t occurred to anyone even as an option way back when.

So Helen and Aline actually could be married, in a full Shadowhunter ceremony, in the eyes of both their families and their world. Even if they were exiled again right afterward, they got this much.

In a Shadowhunter wedding, Simon had been told, you dressed in gold and placed the wedding rune over each other’s hearts. There was a tradition a little like giving away the bride, for both parties in a marriage. The bride or groom would each choose the most significant person to them from their family—sometimes a father, but sometimes a mother, or a parabatai or a sibling or chosen friend, or their own child or an elder who symbolized the whole family—and the chosen one, or suggenes, would give the bride or groom to their beloved, and welcome their beloved to their own family.

This was not always possible in Shadowhunter weddings, on account of sometimes your whole family and all your friends had been eaten by snake demons. You never knew with Shadowhunters. But Simon thought it was kind of beautiful that Jia Penhallow, Consul and most important member of the Clave, was standing as suggenes to give her daughter Aline to the tainted, scandalous Blackthorns, and to receive Helen into the bosom of her family.

Aline’d had some nerve suggesting it. Jia’d had some nerve agreeing to it. But Simon supposed that the Clave had already effectively exiled Jia’s daughter: what more could they do to her? And how better to politely spit in their eye than to say: this girl you spat on and sent away is now as good as the Consul’s daughter.

Julian was the one standing to give Helen away. He stood in his gold-inscribed clothes, his sister on his arm, and his sea-in-the-sunlight eyes shone as if he was happy as any kid could be. As though he had not a care in the world, though Simon knew better.

Helen and Aline were both dressed in golden gowns, golden thread glittering like starlight in Aline’s black hair. They were both so happy, their faces outshone their gowns. They stood at the centre of the ceremony, twin suns, and for a moment all the world seemed to spin and turn on them.

Helen and Aline drew the marriage runes over each others’ hearts with steady hands. When Aline drew Helen’s bright head down to her own for a kiss, there was applause all throughout the hall.

“Thank you for letting us come,” whispered Helen after the ceremony was over, embracing her new mother-in-law.

Jia Penhallow folded her daughter-in-law in her arms and said, in a voice considerably louder than a whisper: “I am sorry I must let you be sent away again.”

Simon did not tell Julian Blackthorn about meeting Mark, any more than he had told Mark that Helen was not there to care for the Blackthorn children. It seemed hideous cruelty, to load another burden on shoulders already burdened almost past bearing. It seemed better to lie, as faeries could not.

But when he came up to Helen and Aline to congratulate them, he stepped up and kissed Helen on the cheek, so he could whisper to her: “Your brother Mark sends you his love, and his happiness for your love.”

Helen stared at him, sudden tears in her eyes but her smile even more radiant than before.

4

Helen and Aline were both dressed in golden gowns, golden thread glittering like starlight in Aline’s black hair. They were both so happy, their faces outshone their gowns. They stood at the center of the ceremony, twin suns, and for a moment all the world seemed to spin and turn on them.

Helen and Aline drew the marriage runes over each others’ hearts with steady hands. When Aline drew Helen’s bright head down to her own for a kiss, there was applause all throughout the hall.

Prove Me Wrong

Viktor/Yuuri soulmate AU, part ¼. The one where Yuuri has know for ages that Viktor is his soulmate, but is still pretty much the last one to know that Viktor is in love with him. This part SFW.

Thanks, @tchy.




Viktor Nikiforov’s long hair is lifted from his neck, knotted delicately and pinned with gold thread; with glittering stones that seem to reflect the golden blades of his skates. He is both masculine and feminine, or perhaps neither. His head is bowed in concentration, and his breaths are deep and even, steady, steadying.

This is his debut, graduating from the junior division. Yuuri, with his hands wrapped around his knees, is watching it on the big old TV in the public lounge of Yu-topia, because then if his parents hear the quiet noise of it they should think that a guest is responsible. It’s one in the morning, and tomorrow he will sleep through history and be kept behind after class.

A quarter of a world away, Viktor’s coach lifts his jacket from his shoulders as Viktor stoops to remove the guards from his blades, away from his neck, the low dip of his costume revealing the fine line of his neck, the edges of his shoulderblades, a fine dip pulling the eye further down along his spine—

And Yuuri sees it.

Yuuri is meant to see it. Yuuri, specifically, of everyone in the world, is meant to see it.

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Sandstorm / pg / 3005 words / jongyu, side het!minkey / dragons au

~~~

The horizon was a flat, empty line of dusty orange, shifting to an abrupt bright blue where sky met sand. Only the weathered gray stretch of the serpentine road broke the dual monotony of orange and blue. It was impossible to see where the wide road ended; it seemed to go on forever, meandering away into an eternity of dry and dusty desert sand. 

The road itself was cracked and jagged, having slowly been eroded away by the elements after decades of disuse. Once upon a time, this had been the main thoroughfare between the Kingdom of Stars and the Nightlands. Now, hardly anyone used it. All the old oasis waystations had long since closed, and only the truly desperate were foolish enough to try and cross the desert entirely on their own.

Jinki had never thought of himself as particularly desperate, but he supposed he must be, to have volunteered for this. He’d done it more out of a sense of indifferent why not? than anything else. There was nothing left for him back home, not since the last plague had come six years ago and killed his wife and their little daughter. Driving a wagon across the old Desert Road didn’t bother him. He had, after all, nothing left to lose. 

He sat at the front of the wagon now, shaded by the hanging flaps of the cover stretched over the top. He let the reins dangle slack between his fingers; the flightless wyverns pulling the vehicle knew by now to follow the road and not stray off into the desert. They didn’t need his guidance. Jinki left them to their burdensome task of hauling the heavy wagon along and passed the time by gazing off into the shimmering flat horizon. He drowned in the heat, exhausted and incredibly, utterly bored by the lack of interesting sight and sound.

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Caught

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@glitter-tornado

Haz`le froze with the Fierce Deity mask in her hands. It partially wasn’t her fault. Partially. Hi bag had opened and the mask had fallen out. It hadn’t been the scary mask with the weird eyes, so she picked it up curiously just to examine it.

She looked at him, looking a little guilty. “Sorry, it just fell out. Really.” She handed it over to him.

The merchant sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. He shouldn’t be so angry, not when she was being honest with him. He took the mask carefully, so not to startle her anymore then he had. 

“I apologize, my dear. If it had just fallen out then I shouldn’t be cross with you. However, I would take caution with which ever mask falls out of the bag, yes? I wouldn’t want anything else to happen to you.” Especially if it were Majora’s Mask.