Yeah, God Knows She Needs Some Way To Have Fun!

all rivers lead to the ocean

This is gonna be awesome!

the first one scene of this fic is 3500 words

uh

whoops?

Yeah, Irene totally abhors mornings.

In my head Kai is a morning person and Irene isn't, so breakfast in bed for Irene is very common

Oh my god, yes! That would be awesome and I’d read the hell out of it!

Raziel referring to Kai as Irene's Prince makes me want to write a fic about them getting trapped in a fairy tale. I do not need more ideas until I finish what has already been started

This is wonderful! I love seeing them interact all together and I relate to Irene’s intense adoration of tea. The idea of her competing with Silver and Kai for thieving books is amazing, I need more of that! Thanks for writing this.

Quarantine prompt #18? Bonus if it includes all four characters ;)

“How long will we be inside for?” Irene asked as she stood on tiptoes to fully examine the content of Silver’s kitchen cabinet, specifically the one very well stocked with tea and coffee.”

“Fourteen days.” Kai decided to not point out that, whilst this wasn't Irene’s idea, she had pointed out that it was a good and logical idea.”

“This isn't enough coffee.” Vale muttered, looking over Irene’s shoulder. “Not if we have to deal with Silver for two weeks.”

“You’ll have to switch to tea then.” Kai shrugged, whilst he enjoyed coffee, he didn’t quite understand both Irene’s and Vale’s urge to drink several cups of it with breakfast. It wasn’t that good and most teas had a better taste.

“I suppose.” Irene shrugged. “I suppose that will do, and it’s not like we will ever run out of alcohol staying here.”

Vale hummed. “Yes, the wine cellar is quiet extensive.”

“How do you know that?” Irene was the only one to jump at Silver’s sudden appearance, she’d been examining a tin of tea.

“How on earth do you have this?” Irene interrupted before Vale could respond, holding up the tin of tea. “This is… probably one of the rarer teas in any world that I can name.”

“Do you want to try some?” He asked with a slow smile. If Kai had known that the way to Irene’s heart was tins of rare and expensive teas then he would have done it days after they met, as it was, he did not like the way that Silver looked at Irene.

The expression on Irene’s face was one of shock and excitement that he usually saw when she was reading, it was gentle and endearing and like watching the sunrise. And entirely focused on the tin in her hands, which she was holding like she was terrified of dropping it and spilling the contents.

“What is it?” Kai curiously asked, Irene’s fingers obscured the label.

“Vintage narcissus. I think it would likely be my wages for an entire year for a tin.” She said, looking up. “May I?”

“Of course, little mouse. Anything to see that look on your face again.” Silver raked his eyes over her and Irene wrinkled her nose. “Maybe the gentleman and I will take a foray to the wine cellar to find something that suits our tastes. Maybe some wine for dinner, and then we can have a pot of tea afterwards.” He casually plucked the tin from Irene’s hand and leant across her to put it away again, brushing against her.

Irene bit back a sigh as she felt Silver’s energy brush over her and various fantasies burst into her mind, including one where he’d just drunk the tea, and was kissing her to allow her a chance to taste it upon his lips. She dismissed the notion.

Kai was a far better kisser than he was, she didn’t even need the surge of pain from her brand to ground her against that flash of power, the knowledge that he was more than capable of sneaking up to her bedroom that night certainly did the trick. Maybe with some pilfered alcohol from that aforementioned cellar.

“Alright.” Irene took a large step away and felt a rush of cold air over her skin. “Show the way, because I do not know where this cellar is, and I am very curious about what to steal from you, along with several fascinating books.”

“Which ones?”

“Your Shakespeare folio. I love a challenge, feel free to get more security.” Irene smiled. Kai chuckled. Irene could get quite competitive about breaking in to places, and when he was her student, they would regularly see who could crack a lock (no Language allowed) the quickest. She’d even raced him down a road before, whilst being chased by security, it had been a tie. She was faster, he had longer legs.

Silver led the way back out of the kitchen and to a door at the back of the main staircase. He flicked a light switch and they headed down a steep set of stairs. More lights flickered on at the bottom of the stairs, revealing several rows of shelves full of wines and other alcohols. It looked to be meticulously organised and the shelves were even labelled with types.

“They are in chronological order from when they were bottled.” Silver said. “Starting with the oldest at the far left of the shelf and getting newer toward this side of the room.”

“There’s also an excellent short cut from the servant quarters.” Vale muttered, leaning over so that Irene could just about hear him. “Just in case you need a way in.”

“I could probably get over the garden wall without a lot of hassle.” She replied. “But thank you. Maybe as an exit.” He smirked and nodded. Irene made a note of where he stored the brandy so that, if she did decided to sack the place, she’d have a very good drink before the inevitable arrest.

“Something red.” Silver said with a lazy wave of his hand. “Other than that, see what strikes your fancy.”

My eyes, my eyes!

One of these days I am going to have to think of the crackest ship that there is and write something for it

I'm thinking Irene x Ao Shun

This is hilarious!

poodle werewolf

Remus and Lily had the best friendship and nothing can change my mind

Honestly as a blind person I’m so tired of seeing fictional blind characters who don’t use white canes or other guides. “They have special powers so they know what’s around them” or “they’re confident enough to not need a guide” are common tropes, and I’m tired.

Are people scared that using a white cane will make their blind character seem weak? They can’t use a cane because they’re so special that they already know what’s around them, and other blind people who use guides are inferior because they’re not special?

I’m tired. Give your blind characters white canes and other guides. Let them hold onto their friends, let them have guide dogs. Don’t make white cane users feel ostracized for not being “strong enough” to go without.

Another thing that pisses me off is when a sighted character comes up with the fantasy equivalent of braille and teaches it to the blind character. Braille was invented by Louis Braille, a blind man, in 1824. The blind character should be the one coming up with it.

Tldr I’m blind and tired of sighted people lol

🔪 Sighted People MUST Reblog This 🔪

Some warm poetry, for cold evenings:

Molly Fisk, “Winter Sun” (We can make do with so little / just the hint of warmth, the slanted light.)

Pat Schneider, “The Patience of Ordinary Things” (It is a kind of love, is it not? / how the cup holds the tea.)

Barbara Ras, “Bite Every Sorrow” (You can speak a foreign language, sometimes / and it can mean something.)

Jack Gilbert, “Failing and Flying” (Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.)

Lisel Mueller, “Things” (Even what was beyond us / was recast in our image; / we gave the country a heart, / the storm an eye)

Rabindranath Tagore, “On the Seashore” (The sea plays with children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach / On the seashore of endless worlds children meet)

John O’Donohue, “Matins” (May I live this day / Compassionate of heart / Gentle in word / Courageous in thought)

Wallace Stevens, “The House Was Quiet and The World Was Calm” (The summer night is like a perfection of thought. / The house was quiet because it had to be)

Brian Patten, “Inessential Things” (Cats remember what is essential of days)

Emily Dickinson, “Simplicity” (How happy is the little stone / that rambles in the road, alone)

Yi Lu, “Valley’s Green” (flowers like tiny saucers — little bowls — little cups / filled to the brim with their own colors)

Jacques Prévert, “How to Paint a Bird’s Portrait” (When the bird comes / if it comes / observe the most profound silence)

Archibald MacLeish, “Eleven” (Happy as though he had no name, as though
 / He had been no one: like a leaf, a stem,
 / Like a root growing…)

Denise Levertov, “A Woman Alone” (Then / self-pity dries up, a joy / untainted by guilt lifts her. / She has fears, but not about loneliness)

Richard Brautigan, “Your Catfish Friend” (I’d love you and be your catfish / friend and drive such lonely / thoughts from your mind)

Linda Gregg, “The Letter” (I’m not feeling strong yet, but I am taking
 / good care of myself)

Andrew Lang, “Ballade of True Wisdom” (And I’d leave all the hurry, the noise, and the fray, / For a house full of books, and a garden of flowers)

Ada Limón, “The Raincoat” (my whole life I’ve been under her / raincoat thinking it was somehow a marvel / that I never got wet.)

Jorge Luis Borges, “The Just” (These people, unaware, are saving the world)

Wendell Berry, “The Peace of Wild Things” (I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.)