Some Klance oneshots or something

A Touch of Magic

(so mysterious I don't even know what this is about at this point and I guess I'm adding a warning, lmao, like two swears in this thing)

"Aughh! Shiii- no, no, no!"

Keith hefted his bags in hopes of keeping them out of the way of the rain that was just starting to drizzle out of the sky. You'd think in a world of magical wonders and amazement, someone would have come up with a levitating umbrella or something.

But nooo, there just had to be non-magic folk who couldn't know about the bits and pieces of another world entirely as it swirled around them.

Y'see, Keith was a witch. He preferred the term 'Warlock of the Night' or 'Master of Sorcery' or something emo like that, but yes, Keith was a witch. Although all the lore of whimsical little cottages, eating children or extravagant robes and accessories was completely wrong. All the old fairy tales about evil witches and sorcerers was just meant to keep the 'plain folk' as they put it, from bothering them.

Much more accurately, Keith would wear potion-stained hoodies, accidentally grab a pen instead of his wand, and use powdered fire in his meals instead of cinnamon. Which never ended well.

So now, as the poor witch bustled home, he also had to try to keep his newly bought things dry. He lived at the very end of the street too. It was a good choice for most days, just not this one. A lot of people didn't come down there, 1) because Keith was a fairly quiet, private person to everyone else in the neighborhood, and 2.) It was at the very end of the street, like previously mentioned. It was the one house, a bit farther away from the others and on the other side of it, there was a large forest that most people didn't hike through. Even though it had a trail.

But none of that was important to Keith at the moment, because the rain was falling a lot harder now.

"Ah, frick, frickfrickfrick, god, cheezits, heck-" the poor boy struggled to keep hold of his bags and get his key out at the same time. Somehow he managed, though. Sighing as the door opened.

Most people would ask "Well, Keith, why didn't you just use magic?"

Well, most beholders of magic would reply "Well, there's laws and stuff. You know, for protection. Unless you're in Australia. Everything already wants to kill you, so why not add some angry or confused plain folk to the list?"

So yeah. Keith didn't use magic to open his door. Ain't nobody got time for that.

Closing the door and shucking off his boots, he sighed again, grateful to be inside. He hung his coat, leaving him in just jeans, an oversized hoodie and socks with little flowers in them. Leaning to check his bags, Keith was glad to find all of his purchases still completely fine.

"But Keith," you might ask, "are those magical groceries? Where do you even get them if you aren't supposed to display magic to the outside world?"

Well, dear reader, those with magical capabilities have come up with some simply charming solutions. One particular magic grocer near Keith is just a town over. He rides the subway. Because he can. And all you have to do is walk out to the little nearly abandoned post office and lean against the back wall. Mutter a few words. If it's being stubborn, jab it with your elbow a few times. And then a door, it looks like just the back door to the building appears. In you go, and you end up on a new street, lined with shops you can buy anything for your magical needs from.

But moving on, as he put away his groceries, he caught a glimpse of the rain outside. It came down heavily, thrumming on the roof. Occasional claps of thunder rattled the bottles in his potions cupboard.

"Man," Keith breathed, seeing the water drip down the glass, illuminated by a crack of lightning. "this is so fucking aesthetic."

Another boom of thunder rattled in his ribcage and he almost didn't hear the rapid fire knocking on his door.