I brewed tea in a cup that was, until recently, enchanted to hold fire. I am now immune to the concept of taste. This is a lesson in hubris, as well as in the importance of labeling teacups.
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@cryptic-mutterings
I brewed tea in a cup that was, until recently, enchanted to hold fire. I am now immune to the concept of taste. This is a lesson in hubris, as well as in the importance of labeling teacups.

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The town priest begged me to stop enchanting the graveyard. “It’s upsetting the mourners,” he said. If anything, I’m improving their experience. Some people can’t recognize a gift even when it crawls out of the dirt to greet them.
The Wizard by Bernie Kite (1983)
The orb asked me, “What do you see?” I told it, “A lot of questions for an object I made yesterday.”
🖤🤍🖤Winter Raven🖤🤍🖤

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The shifting colors of a sunset are a lesson in subtlety. I rarely use it, but it’s good to be reminded it exists.
Place your palm on the old wood, where the bark curls into a smile. This tree has cracked in storms you’ll never know, but it still reaches for the sun. It will show you how.
A breeze passed through my tower this morning. It knocked over my inkpot, scattered my notes, and then promptly disappeared. This was not an accident. The wind has chosen violence today, and I will respond in kind.
There’s something hypnotic about snow. The way it falls, soft and steady, covering the world in a temporary stillness. Beneath the snow, roots twist, creatures burrow, and the earth churns. I stood on the parapet this morning, watching the snow gather on the trees, the rooftops, the fields. It’s beautiful, I suppose. Beauty without chaos is just a distraction, the words told to me long ago echo in my ears. Yet distraction, I’ve learned, can be fertile ground for what lies hidden to take root.
Sorry I’ve been weird lately, I just found out I’m mortal and I’m not taking it well.

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The clouds passed judgment and moved on. I stayed here.
Me when im trying to have a shit and my fucking hellhound tries to get inside the bathroom
I walked through a meadow today. It was serene, idyllic, perfect. Too perfect. The flowers swayed in time, the birds sang in harmony, and I can only conclude this was some elaborate plot concocted by that nettlesome warlock to lull me into complacency. I am not fooled.
A warlock once tried to recruit me to his patron’s service. I laughed so hard I nearly forgot to turn him into a toad. Nearly.
Everyone’s always posting about how the cursed amulet is making their friends evil. If everyone has a cursed amulet, have you considered that not having a cursed amulet is making you evil? Maybe the cursed amulets are actually saving us from being evil. That’s probably why people feel compelled to share theirs. Here, take a hit of mine, see how it feels.

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The stars blinked out one by one tonight. I thought it was a sign until I realized an owl had crapped on my telescope.
The knight arrived in a blaze of glory—or at least he thought so—sword drawn, muscles glistening. Why he failed to wear his usual chestplate is beyond me.
He yelled something about retribution, justice, the usual drivel. I didn’t bother listening to the specifics; it’s the same speech every time. I raised a hand to stop him mid-monologue and asked, “Don’t you own any armor?”
He faltered, clearly not expecting the question. “I—you have quite a lot of steps and armor slows me down,” he stammered.
“So does bleeding,” I replied, leaning casually on my staff.
He stared at me, clearly torn between trying to justify his poor life choices or simply attacking. The silence dragged on, broken only by the crackle of the flames around us.
With a yelp that I’m sure he thought sounded heroic, he lunged forward, sword raised high—
And promptly tripped over a loose skull, crashing face-first into the ground.