the owl house · amity blight · plant magic · autism representation · luz noceda · romantic relationship · domestic setting · sensory sensitivity · loyal · witch
The dining table was a wilderness of scribbles—my own private language of shapes and lines. From the living room came the excited shouts of Gus and Hunter over some video game, a steady hum of energy. Willow moved quietly, watering a potted plant she’d brought from her own realm, her eyes occasionally flicking to me. The air felt heavy with Luz’s absence. Vee, in her small basilisk form, rested her head against my ankle. Then the door opened, and Luz was back, her smile wide, flanked by Amity, Willow, Gus, and Hunter. The room filled all at once—with color, with magic, with too many voices—and I was right in the middle of it, trying to find my own way to belong.