#Lunar Cycle series

[writtenroses1813]

Some of my fav characters who are rarely picked first in the fandom:

Donatella Dragna (Caraval by Stephanie Garber)

Harry Potter (Harry Potter by J. K. Rowling)

Eden (Legend series by Mari Lu (especially Rebel))

Jacob (City of Ghosts by V. E. Schwab)

Gansey (The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater)

Rudy Steiner (The Book Thief)

Cinder (The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyers)

Some of these characters may be well loved I’m just saying that they’re generally not who many have immediately said to be their favorite within the fandom (even if they’re the main characters)

[tabethawithane]

there should be a word for the melancholia you feel after you’ve finished a really amazing book series and you have to part with your emotional support found family characters.

[roaringramart]

Phases

From: Abstract SF Landscapes series.

-> Available on TeePublic

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Shadow | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, unwanted sexual contact (not on reader)

Word Count: 5069

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Sam made himself and Dean don goofy outfits to go investigate the death of some poor girl who died the previous week. You were dressed as their supervisor, so you didn’t have to dress like the third Imagination Mover.

“You know, I’ve gotta say Dad and me did just fine without these stupid costumes,” Dean complained. “I feel like a high school drama dork. What was that play that you did? What was it— Our Town. Yeah, you were good, it was cute.”

“You did theater?” you asked Sam.

“Look, you wanna pull this off or not?” The brunet changed the subject.

“I’m just sayin’, these outfits cost hard-earned money, okay?”

“Whose?” You gave Dean a look.

“Ours. You think credit card fraud is easy?”

***

The landlady of the young woman’s apartment building let you into the deceased’s room. She called the alarm company as useful as “boobs on a man.” She explained how Meredith had been found in pieces scattered around the apartment. The landlady said there had been no signs of break in, and allowed you and the Winchesters to check the apartment out for a bit.

“So, a killer walks in and out of the apartment—no weapons, no prints, nothin’,” Dean said.

“I’m tellin’ ya, the minute I found that article, I knew this was our kind of gig,” Sam replied.

The EMF meter Dean was holding beeped rapidly.

“I definitely agree with you,” you chimed in.

“So, you talked to the cops?” Sam asked his brother.

Dean smirked. “I spoke to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law.”

You ignored the way your heart squeezed in your chest. “Yeah? What’d you find out?” You did your best not to let on the emotional storm he was sending you into.

“Well, she’s a Sagittarius,” he said dreamily. “She loves tequila, I mean— wow. Oh, and she’s got this little tattoo—”

“Dean!” Sam cut his brother off.

“What? Yeah. Uh, nothin’ we don’t already know. Except for one thing they’re keepin’ out of the papers. Meredith’s heart was missing.”

“Her heart?” the younger brother sounded stunned. “So, what do you think did it to her?”

“Well, the landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe it was— werewolf?”

You shook your head. “No, the lunar cycle’s not right. Plus, if it was a creature or somethin’, it would’ve left some kind of trace. It’s gotta be a spirit.”

Dean looked down at the blood stains on the white carpet and seemed to notice something. “Sam, see if you can find any masking tape.” His idea of taping the space between the splotches of blood like a twisted connect-the-dots revealed a strange symbol on the ground that looked like an “S” with a small circle cutting through the middle of it.

***

You were gulping down beers like there was no tomorrow and trying to peel your eyes away from Dean flirting with the gorgeous bartender. You and Sam were sitting at an empty table and leafing through his father’s journal.

“(Y/N), if you stare any harder at him, you’re gonna burst a blood vessel.”

You looked over at Sam. “Shut up.”

“You like him, huh?”

“What am I, five? No, I don’t like him,” you responded. 

He gave you a knowing look. “C’mon, (Y/N/N), don’t lie to me.”

You sighed, taking a big gulp of your drink first. “I don’t know, man. I’m not good with feelings.”

Before Sam could respond, Dean was back over at your table. “I talked to the bartender,” he grinned. 

“Did you get anything? Besides her number?” Sam asked.

Dean scrunched his face up. “Dude, I’m a professional. I’m offended that you would think that.” Sam gave him a look, and Dean bashfully held up a napkin with the bartender’s number on it in response.

“You mind doin’ a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?” you asked.

“Huh? Look, there’s nothing to find out. I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal. She didn’t do or say anything weird before she died, so— what about that symbol, you find anything?”

The younger brother shook his head. “Nope, nothing. It wasn’t in Dad’s journal or in any of the usual books. I just have to dig a little deeper, I guess.”

“Well, there was a first victim, right? Before Meredith?” you brought up.

“His name was, uh, his name was Ben Swardstrom.” He pulled a newspaper clipping out of the journal and handed it to Dean, “Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Same deal; the door was locked, the alarm was on.”

“Is there any connection between the two of them?”

“Not that I can tell—I mean, not yet, at least. Ben was a banker, Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common—they were practically from different worlds.”

“So, to recap, the only successful intel we’ve scored so far is the bartender’s phone number," the younger brother deadpanned.

Dean smirked at you and Sam, and you tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. Sam seemed to notice something on the other side of the room.

“What?” you asked.

Without answering you, Sam got up from the table and headed past his brother. You followed him to a table where a blonde woman with short hair sat.

“Meg?” he asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows as the woman turned around and exclaimed, “Sam! Is that you? Oh, my god! What are you doing here?” She gave him a hug, and you could see on Sam’s face that he was confused.

“I’m just in town, visiting friends,” he lied.

The young woman looked around. “Where are they?”

You stepped up from his side. “Me!” you lied. “Nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N).”

She gave you a smile, “Yeah, I remember, Sam told me about you.”

You turned to the younger Winchester. “He did?”

“Yeah, of course,” Sam answered. “Meg, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to California.”

Dean came up between you and Sam; eyes raking over Meg’s body.

“Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered. Oh, and I met what’s-his-name, something Michael Murray at a bar,” she explained.

Sam looked confused. “Who?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I’m living here for a while,” she shrugged.

Dean cleared his throat loudly, but was ignored.

“You’re from Chicago?” Sam questioned.

“No, Massachusetts. Andover. Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we’d run into each other?” The grin she gave unsettled you. 

“Yeah, I know, I thought I’d never see you again.”

Dean cleared his throat again, earning a “Dude, cover your mouth,” from Meg.

Sam chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, um, I’m sorry, Meg. This is, uh— this is my brother, Dean.”

She looked surprised. “This is Dean?”

“So, you’ve heard of me?” Dean gave her a salacious grin.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard of you. Nice; the way you treat your brother like luggage,” she said harshly.

“Sorry?” Dean was stunned and so were you.

The woman didn't let up, and if it weren't for your horrible gut feeling, the two of you would likely be good friends. “Why don’t you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over god’s green earth.”

“Meg, it’s alright,” Sam said.

Dean whistled lowly. “Okay, awkward. I’m gonna get a drink now. C’mon, (Y/N).”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” And with that, you bounded off to the bar with him. “What’s with that chick?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know. Weird, right?”

“Yeah, completely,” you responded.

The older Winchester motioned at the pretty bartender he’d spoken to earlier for two beers. 

“Sam ever mention her?” you asked him. “They seemed pretty chummy.”

“Why, you jealous?”

You scoffed. “No way. He reminds me too much of my brother. Freud would be rolling in his grave if I was. She’s just… bizarre.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he grumbled, sipping his beer.

Sam came over to you and told you it was time to go.

“What, why?” you asked.

“Just… come on, (Y/N/N),” Sam responded. He dragged the two of you out of the bar after you and Dean chugged your beers quickly.

“Who the hell was she?” Dean questioned as you crossed the street outside of the bar.

“I don’t really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don’t know, man, it’s weird.”

“Yeah, she seemed to really know you,” you said. “You said you only met her once?”

He nodded.

“And what was she saying? I treat you like luggage? What, were you bitchin’ about me to some chick?” Dean’s tone was on-guard immediately.

“Look, I’m sorry, Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana. But that’s not important, just listen—”

“Well, is there any truth to what she’s saying? I mean, am I keeping you against your will, Sam?”

Sam stopped his brother. “No, of course not. Now, would you listen? I think there’s somethin’ strange going on here, guys.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Dean muttered. “She wasn’t even that into me.”

You elbowed him sharply. “Upstairs brain, please.”

“I mean like, our kind of strange.” Sam ignored his brother’s comment. “Like, maybe even a lead.”

“What makes you say that?” you asked.

“I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don’t think that’s a little weird?”

“Well, yeah,” you said. “But I think I would’ve noticed if she was following us.”

“Yeah, okay, Nancy Drew,” Dean chided.

“Listen, dickhead, I’m very observant,” you responded playfully.

“Guys, can we focus, please? Look, I could be wrong, I’m just sayin’ that there’s something about this girl that I can’t quite put my finger on,” Sam continued.

“Well, I bet you’d like to. I mean, maybe she’s not a suspect, maybe you’ve got a thing for her, huh?” Dean’s grin was widening by the second.

Sam rolled his eyes and you laughed.

“Maybe you’re thinkin’ a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?” Dean pointed to his head and then down to his groin.

Sam gave the two of you a bitchface. “Do me a favor. Check and see if there’s really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can’t dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith’s floor.”

“What are you gonna do?” Dean asked him.

“I’m gonna watch Meg.”

The older brother laughed. “Yeah, you are.”

“I just wanna see what’s what. Better safe than sorry.”

“Alright, you little pervert.” Dean continued walking.

“Dude!”

“We’re goin’, we’re goin’.” 

“Bye, Sam!” you called over your shoulder. You and Dean walked a few blocks down to Sam and Dean’s motel room and set to work searching for Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts.

***

About thirty minutes later, Sam called you. “Hey.” You continued clicking through pages on your computer.

“Finding anything?” he asked.

“Yeah, she checks out. High school yearbook picture and everything.”

Dean took your phone from you. “Let me guess. You’re lurkin’ outside that poor girl’s apartment, aren’t you?... You’ve got a funny way of showin’ your affection. Now, look, why don’t you go knock on her door and, uh, invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh?... Yeah, that (Y/N) did have some luck with. It’s, uh, turns out it’s very, very old school, like two thousand years before Christ. It’s a sigil for a Daeva.”

Dean handed the phone back to you. “He’s lookin’ for a nerd definition. You’re better with that than I am.”

You rolled your eyes. “ 'Daeva' translates to ‘demon of darkness’. They’re Zoroastrian demons, and they’re freakin’ animals, dude. Dean said they’re demonic pitbulls.”

“How’d you figure that out?”

“Google, man. It’s a magical place.”

He laughed. 

“Oh, one more thing!” you gasped. “These Daevas, they have to be summoned; conjured.”

Sam sounded surprised. “So, someone’s controlling it?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m sayin’. And, from what I gather, it’s pretty risky business, too. These bitches tend to bite the hand that feeds them.”

“And, uh, the arms, and torsos,” Dean quipped loud enough for his brother to hear. 

“So, what do they look like?” Sam asked you.

“Nobody knows. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? We’ve definitely got a major player in town.”

Dean took the phone back from you. “Now, why don’t you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?... No, bite her. Don’t leave teeth marks, though— Sam? Are you—?” He took your phone away from his ear. “He hung up.”

“Yeah, you fucking perv. You know he’s a total prude,” you snickered. “I’m kind of exhausted, if I’m being honest. Do you mind if I sleep here for a bit?” you asked him, referring to his bed that you were lounging on.

He shrugged. “Go right ahead. I’ll wake you up when Sam’s back.”

“Thanks. Night, Dee.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

You rolled away from him, sighing contentedly. You brought the covers up around your neck, and Dean's scent engulfed you as you did so.

You often found yourself unable to rest when you were alone in your room. Some part of you was still afraid of your father bursting into your room at four in the morning to go run drills if he was disappointed in your performance from the day before. And if sleep did grace you, it was normally hours of tossing and turning before you could finally turn your brain off. But somehow, this man you were just beginning to know made you feel safe enough to drift off in minutes.

***

You awoke to Dean lightly shaking you awake. You snapped into fight or flight and gripped his wrist, shooting up from the bed.

“Whoa, whoa, relax. It’s just me,” he told you.

“Sorry,” you said, cheeks burning. “Hey, Sam.”

Sam proceeded to explain what he’d seen after following Meg into a warehouse. 

“So, hot little Meg is summoning the Daeva?” Dean quipped.

“Looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing,” Sam responded.

“So, Sammy’s got a thing for the bad girl,” he chuckled. “And what’s the deal with that bowl again?”

“She was talking into it. The way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone.”

“With who? With the Daeva?”

The younger man shook his head. “No, (Y/N) said those things were savages. No, this was someone different. Someone who’s giving her orders. Someone who’s comin’ to that warehouse.”

Dean thought for a moment and then looked over some of the papers the two of you had spread out on the table. “Holy crap.”

“What?” You jumped out of bed and walked over to him.

“What I was gonna tell Sam earlier—I pulled a favor with my—” he cleared his throat— “friend, Amy, over at the police department. The complete records of the two victims— we missed something the first time.”

“What?”

“The first victim, the old man— he spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn’t born here. Look where he was born.” He pointed to a spot on the page.

“Lawrence,” you breathed. 

Dean continued to shuffle through files. “Meredith, second victim? Turns out she was adopted. And guess where she’s from.”

“Holy crap,” Sam muttered. “I mean, it is where the demon killed Mom. That’s where everything started. So, you think Meg’s tied up with the demon?”

“I think it’s a definite possibility,” the older brother answered.

“But I don’t understand. What’s the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?” Sam questioned.

“Beats me. But I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation.” 

“No, we can’t. We shouldn’t tip her off. We’ve gotta stake out that warehouse. We’ve gotta see who, or what, is showin’ up to meet her.” Sam pulled a hand through his hair and began to pace.

“I’ll tell you one thing. I don’t think we should do this alone,” Dean said.

“Dean, do you even think your dad will answer?” you asked him, knowing what he meant.

He didn’t answer but told you, “You and Sam go stake out the trunk. Get me somethin’ good.”

You nodded. “C’mon, Sam.”

You grabbed anything and everything out of the trunk that could’ve been remotely useful. Holy water, numerous weapons, and different books containing dozens of different exorcism rituals. 

When you returned to the room, Dean was talking to who you deduced was his father on the phone. “We think we’ve got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh, this warehouse—it’s 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can.” 

“Voicemail?” you questioned.

He nodded. He gestured to the stuffed duffel bags you and Sam were holding. “Jesus, what’d you get?”

“We ransacked the trunk,” Sam explained and listed off all the things you had grabbed.

Dean nodded and breathed deeply. “Big night.”

“Yeah. You nervous?” the younger brother asked.

“No. Why, are you?”

“No. No way.” He was silent for a moment. “God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, alright?” 

“I know. I’m just sayin’, what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I’d sleep for a month. Go back to school— be a person again.”

“You wanna go back to school?” you asked Sam.

“Yeah, once we’re done huntin’ the thing,” he answered.

You felt slightly saddened. “Oh.”

“Why, is there somethin’ wrong with that?”

“No, no! It’s, uh, great. I’m proud of you,” you told him.

“I mean, what are you two gonna do when it’s all over?” Sam asked.

“It’s never gonna be over,” Dean answered. “There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be somethin’ to hunt.” He looked to you. “And I’m gonna need a new hunting partner if Sam’s not gonna be around… so…”

You gave him a lopsided smile. 

Sam continued prodding. “But there’s got to be somethin’ that you want for yourself—”

Dean cut his brother off. “Yeah, I don’t want you to leave the second this thing’s over, Sam.” He turned away.

“Dude, what’s your problem?”

“Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh?” Dean asked his brother rhetorically. “I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place?”

“ ‘Cause Dad was in trouble. ‘Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom.” Sam looked confused. 

“Yes, that, but it’s more than that, man. You and me and Dad— I mean, I want us… I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again.”

Sam’s tone softened. “Dean, we are a family. I’d do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before.”

Dean looked heartbroken, and yours ached for him, too. “Could be.”

“I don’t want them to be. I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you’re gonna have to let me go my own way.”

You watched Sam with sad eyes, but you and Dean said nothing as you left the room to head to the warehouse.

***

You carefully climbed your way up the elevator shaft hearing Meg’s melodic voice talking in a language you couldn’t recognize getting louder and louder as you ascended. You tried your best not to make much noise while you climbed; a feat the brothers seemed to have trouble with.

You peeked over the cement slab that made up the seventh floor of the warehouse. Meg’s back was turned to you and she continued speaking into the goblet she was holding. Sam quietly pulled the gate open just wide enough for you and the brothers to slip through. The three of you headed behind two of the support posts of the warehouse. You drew your guns from your jeans and steadied your breath to attack her.

“Guys,” Meg spoke; never turning around.

You looked at the brothers in shock.

“Hiding’s a little bit childish, don’t you think?” her smooth voice continued. 

“Well, that didn’t work out like I planned,” Dean muttered to you. You would have laughed had it not been for your situation.

Meg turned and her boots clacked on the floor as she approached you. “Why don’t you come out?”

You slowly moved from behind the crates.

“Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship,” she snarled.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“So, where’s your little Daeva friend?” you asked her.

“Around,” she sing-songed. “You know, that shotgun’s not gonna do much good.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. The shotgun’s not for the demon,” Dean responded. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“So, who is it, Meg? Who’s coming? Who are you waiting for?” Sam jumped in.

“You,” she smiled. Just behind her on her left, you saw shadows beginning to form in the shape of demons in flowing, tattered robes on the wall.

Before you knew it, you were knocked to the ground, screaming in pain as something slashed your right cheek and left shoulder. It was proving difficult to fight something you couldn’t see. You screamed in pain again as you felt a slash across your thigh, and whited out from the pain.

When you came to, your hands were bound behind your back. You struggled against your restraints as Dean spoke. “Hey, Sam? Don’t take this the wrong way, but your girlfriend… is a bitch.”

Dean had been tied on your right side; backs against the sides of the cement post.

“This, the whole thing, was a trap,” Sam figured out. “Running into you at the bar, following you here, hearin’ what you had to say. It was all a set-up, wasn’t it?”

Meg laughed.

“And that the victims were from Lawrence?” Sam continued.

“It doesn’t mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that’s all,” the blonde smiled.

“You killed those two people for nothin’.”

“Baby, I’ve killed a lot more for a lot less,” she replied smugly.

“You trapped us. Good for you. It’s Miller time.” You could hear the smile in the older brother’s voice. “But why don’t you kill us already?”

You thought for a second. “Because it’s not a trap for us. It’s a trap for John.”

Meg tsked at the brothers. “I like her. She’s a lot quicker on the uptake.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re dumber than you look,” Dean told her. “ 'Cause even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn’t walk into something like this. He’s too good.”

Meg approached Dean and straddled his legs. “He is pretty good. I’ll give you that. But you see, he has one weakness.”

“What’s that?” the older brother winced uncomfortably. You strained against your restraints even more, trying to be able to get to Dean.

You could see Meg leaning closer to Dean, her voice somehow becoming even more sultry. “You. He lets his guard down around his boys, lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he is in town. And he’ll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody— nice and slow and messy.”

Dean’s voice strained in discomfort. “Well, I’ve got news for ya. It’s gonna take a lot more than some… shadow to kill him.”

“Oh, the Daevas are in the room here—they’re invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see,” she explained. 

“Why you doin’ this, Meg? What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?” Sam asked her.

“I’m doing this for the same reasons you do what you do: loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy and Jess.”

“Go to hell,” he responded.

“Baby, I’m already there.” She slid over to Sam and straddled him. “C’mon, Sam, there’s no need to be nasty.” 

You didn’t like the full show you were being given of Meg leaning into his ear and ghosting her lips over his neck. “I think we both know how you really feel about me. You know, I saw you watching me— changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn’t it?”

“Ew, Sam!” you scolded him.

“Get a room, you two,” Dean grumbled simultaneously.

“I didn’t mind. I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun.” Meg kissed up his neck.

“You wanna have fun? Go ahead then. I’m a little tied up right now,” Sam responded.

She smiled and continued to kiss him. She stopped when she heard something from your side of the room. She stalked over to yours and Dean’s post and took the knife from his hand, tossing it into a corner. Meg walked back over to Sam. “Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free?”

“No, no,” he told her. “That’s because I have a knife of my own.” She seemed confused until he broke free and knocked his head against hers; sending her to the floor.

“Sam! Get the altar!” you instructed.

He ran over to it and aggressively turned it over. Before you knew it, Meg was sent flying out of the warehouse’s window and to the ground below. Sam came back over to you two and cut you free. You headed over to the window to see Meg’s dead body sprawled over the ground. “So, I guess the Daevas didn’t like being bossed around,” Sam remarked.

“Yeah, I guess not. Hey, Sam?” Dean said. “Next time you wanna get laid, find a girl that’s not so buckets-o’-crazy, huh?”

***

You and the boys returned to their motel room so you could patch each other up and recover. You weren’t so convinced that your run-in with the Daevas was over and brought the duffel bag inside with you.

“Why didn’t you just leave that stuff in the car?” Dean asked you.

“Better safe than sorry,” you shrugged.

The older Winchester unlocked the door before you and you entered the room. You noticed the silhouette of a burly man standing by the window. You flipped on the light while Dean exclaimed, “Hey!”

The man turned around, and your jaw nearly fell to the floor at the sight of the scruffy, tanned man before you.

“Dad?” Dean breathed out.

John smiled. “Hey, boys.” He and his oldest son walked toward each other and shared a long hug. You smiled at them sadly. When they pulled away, John turned to his youngest. “Hi, Sam.” They shared a long look before John turned to you. “Didn’t think I’d see you again after Jericho,” he told you.

You responded, “I didn’t think I’d see your boys again after Jericho, either.” 

John gave you a half-smile. “Thank you. For looking after them.”

You nodded in acknowledgement.

“Dad, it was a trap. I didn’t know; I’m sorry,” Dean began.

“It’s alright. I thought it might’ve been.”

“Were you there?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive. She was the bad guy, right?”

“Yes, sir,” the boys answered their father. 

“Good. Well, it doesn’t surprise me. It’s tried to stop me before,” John sighed. “It knows I’m close. It knows I’m gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell. Actually kill it.”

“How?” you asked.

“I’m workin’ on that,” the older man responded.

“Let us come with you. We’ll help,” Sam urged. 

John’s tone hardened. “No, Sam. Not yet. Just try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don’t want you caught in a crossfire. I don’t want you hurt.”

Sam shook his head. “Dad, you don’t have to worry about us.”

“Of course I do. I’m your father.” He paused. “Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam nodded.

“It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time.”

“Too long.” Tears formed in Sam’s eyes as he finally hugged his father.

Suddenly, you were thrown across the room by an invisible force, something clawing at your back. 

“No!” Dean yelled before he was thrown down next to you. 

Deep claw marks formed on a number of parts of your body— your legs, arms, face, stomach— everywhere. 

“Shut your eyes!” Sam yelled over the chaos. “These things are shadow demons, so let’s light ‘em up!” Suddenly, a bright light began to fill the room.

You and the three men fumbled your way around trying to feel your way out of the room. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean called to you while Sam called to his father.

“I’m here!” you told him. You felt his arms around you pulling you out of the room. Your leg protested and made you yelp in pain. You knew Dean was hurting, too, and you tried your best to continue moving forward.

“(Y/N), let me help you!” Dean urged you as you continued to stumble out of the room.

“No!” you said, but Dean swept you up anyway. “Dean!” He carried you out of the room and toward the car. You finally gave in and wound your arms around his neck. When he put you down in the backseat, you held your leg and groaned in pain. 

“Alright, come on,” Sam said. “We don’t have much time. As soon as the flare’s out, they’ll be back.” Sam moved to get in the car, too.

“Wait, wait, wait! Sam, wait. Dad, you can’t come with us.”

Sam huffed. “What? What are you talkin’ about?”

“You boys— you’re beat to hell,” John protested.

“We’ll be alright,” Dean answered.

“Dean, we should stick together. We’ll go after those demons—”

Dean turned to his brother. “Sam! Listen to me! We almost got Dad killed in there. Don’t you understand? They’re not gonna stop. They’re gonna try again. They’re gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad’s vulnerable when he’s with us. He— he’s stronger without us around.”

“Dad, no—” Sam put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “After everything— after all the time we spent lookin’ for you, please. I gotta be a part of this fight.”

“Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you’ve got to trust me, son—”

Sam shook his head as his father continued to speak.

“—Okay, you’ve gotta let me go,” John told him. Finally, Sam patted his father’s shoulder and allowed him to move away.

The three of you watched as got in his truck and drove off. You knew Dean was right, but it was so bizarre to let this man you spent so much time looking for leave just like that.

“Come on,” Dean told his brother. And with that, the three of you were off to god-knows-where to lick your wounds and get a hopefully decent amount of sleep. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm

[mariaxxxxx]

Dragon fruit ( Namor x fem!reader)

Summary: You beg K'uk'ulkan to give you a baby (+18)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/ Minors DNI, Angust, Hurt comfort, Sex, Apologies, Crying, Creampie, Passionate sex, virgin!reader, size difference, smut, soft!dom!, HEA, good ending, somnophille, slight degradation, duvious consent, menstrual sex, pregnancy, arranged marriage, inexperienced reader, abortion commented, unprotected sex (don't do that wrap this thing), kidnapping, aftercare, curse words.

series masterlist

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

You settled into your nightly beauty ritual to prepare for a night alone. Sitting on a small bench, You sighed in sadness as you looked at your untouchable marital bed. You felt like an idiot because you saw your husband throughout the day, but something inside you was feeling a little more needy than usual. Lacking the touches and kisses of the man with whom he shared his life for half a decade.

It was an agreement sealed without words, just with indecent gestures and touches; You were his good queen during the day and at night he devoured you like a thirsty beast. It was a perfect marriage, You would say; a passionate husband who gave her pleasure in and out of bed. But the idea that something was missing started to grow in your mind, you tried to know what was missing until, during a walk through the market, you discovered it. Your eyes lit up when you saw a young mother swimming with her baby tied to things and thought how she would like to have a baby of her own. After witnessing that simple scene, the idea of having a child timidly appeared in his mind and grew quickly, consuming all his neurons.

It started with a shy voice, deep in his head. A baby, the voice whispered in his mind. Have his babies, the voice hissed in his mind often. As a wife and queen You were expected to conceive a child one day, but such a conversation was never had between You and your husband. He never demanded a baby from her, but he never said he didn't want them.

You were moved by each completion of a lunar cycle where women went to the temple of Ixchel to thank for their blessings. You, as queen, were always present to thank the Goddess for your femininity and ask for good fruits in your marriage. Every time a young mother from Talokan swam to the feet of Ixchel with her baby in her arms and asked the Goddess for protection for her child, You imagined yourself with your own child on your lap thanking the Goddess for its life.

You haven't talked about this with your husband. God, no, you didn't want to stress him out even more. Her husband was so adamant after the peace agreement sealed between Talokan and Wakanda. The flame of war still burned in your pupils, so, following your role as wife and queen, You refused to bore him with your silly matters and decided to keep the thought and attempts to generate a life just for yourself.

However, the idea of keeping it a secret was increasingly becoming difficult to hide. You drooled every time you saw a gentle gesture between a mother and her son, you made love to your husband frequently demanding that he spill his semen inside You, you caressed your untouched stomach in front of the mirror imagining it swollen with K's seed. K'uk'ulkan, visited the temple of Ixchel placing baskets full of dragon fruit on its altar, took herbal infusion with dragon fruit seed to open her uterus and cried every time her menstruation arrived. Her husband was so busy that he didn't notice her lamentations about not having a baby in her womb.

K'uk'ulkan slides through the curtain with tired shoulders hunched, with generous drops of water sliding off him, he brushes his hair out of his eyes as he looks at You. For Ixchel he was so beautiful and irresistible that You had to press your fingers against his bench he was sitting on so as not to jump on it.

“You’re still awake, it’s late. You should sleep.”

You stand up with a smile. Your short nightgown, which barely covered your thighs, sways as you walk towards him.

“I'm fine, my love. I like waiting for my husband.” You say stopping in front of him.

“I have such a good wife.” He says cheekily as he presses a kiss to your blushing cheek.

He offers His armored wrists to You in a silent cry for help. You begin to remove each of your gold-plated vibranium accessories. You masterfully undid hooks and bonds, as you have done many times during your years at his side. When he was free of his ornaments he sealed her lips with his in a kiss of tenderness and passion.

“Come, lie down with me.” You tried to pull him onto the bed, but his firm hands kept you in place. “My love, is something wrong?”

"No." He said simply. “I’m just enjoying my queen’s beauty.”

Suddenly feeling shy, you looked away as your cheeks turned red.

“You shower me with praise, K'uk'ulkan.”

He nods and pulls you by your hips until you are pressed against his wet chest. He reaches out, cups her face and pulls her into a voracious kiss. A moan escapes his throat as he tastes her on his tongue. You bite his lips and pull the way he likes, your husband lets out a sound through his mouth and kisses you again like a thirsty man, savoring your mouth as if it were the tastiest candy.

You place your hands on his solid chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken at your touch. Gods, You will never tire of the effect you have on him. This made You greedy and malicious, but possessing power over a God-king provided You with absurd pleasure. He breaks the kiss leaving You a mess with your heavy breathing and swollen lips.

“I intend to shower you with more than praise, my queen.” He murmurs as he pushes her a little towards the bed. You fall sitting on the soft reeds covered in soft sheets and pillows. “Lie down and spread your legs for your husband.”

You obeyed, as you always did, laying your head on the soft pillows and spreading your legs. Your breath catches and you bite your lip when your king positions himself between your legs and observes your naked sex.

“What a good girl I have in my bed.” He says in a sigh as he watched your exposed pussy. "So beautiful..."

He hums as he positions his face in front of her pussy with every intention of devouring her. Hot breath penetrates through your thin skin, sending pleasurable spikes. You feel him place small kisses on your pelvis, making your legs tremble as your core vibrates in anticipation. His wet hands explore her body covered in the thin nightgown.

“K'uk'ulkan...” You whimper as he pinches your left nipple,

He ignores it as he tugs at your nightgown with an impatient growl. He rips it line by line until your body is completely exposed to him.

He moves off your pelvis and begins to place soft kisses on your exposed belly, making the wet spot between your legs grow absurdly. You knew he couldn't see his excitement, but his nose could smell the sweet smell that your pussy gave off. Your husband moves away from you, supporting himself on his elbows and looks directly into his face.

“My beautiful, beautiful queen.” He says while feeling one of her breasts with his hands. “They would look beautiful swollen with milk…” his hand leaves her breast and goes to her belly. “...You would be even more beautiful with my seed growing inside You.”

His words take you by surprise, taking you out of your little world of pleasure. Her breath hitches when her husband's smile becomes wider than normal.

“I... I...” You stammered and babbled like an idiot without knowing how to respond.

“I know the woman I love, my queen.” He began to caress her stomach as if something was growing there. “You think I didn’t understand your anguish and desire for a child. I know that it goes back to the time of Ixchel and offers dragon fruit and prayers so that she fills her womb with a child.”

"I am really sorry." You finally say. “I didn’t want to upset him. You're so stressed after the battle with Wakanda, I didn't want to fill your head with my empty desires.”

Her husband exclaimed a sound through his mouth and looked at you with disappointment.

“You wanting a child doesn’t upset me, my love.” He kissed her lips, walked away and spoke again: “What upsets me is my queen turning to another God to conceive a child.

"My love..."

He interrupts her with a simple look and speaks again.

“Pray that K'uk'ulkan will give you a baby.”

He returns to his starting position, with his head between your legs, he takes a single breath against your exposed pussy, his hair glistening with wetness, before diving in and latching onto your throbbing clit. Lewd sighs and moans escaped his lips as you ran your hands through his wet hair to pull him closer to your pussy. With impressive skill he sucks, licks and pinches his wetness.

The tension in your body increases as You fight to keep yourself sane, your arousal constantly dripping down and staining the sheets. He puts his hands on her thighs to keep them apart and devour her pussy. He ate You like a hungry man; licking her entrance, sucking her clit with his lips and brushing his beard against her skin. You cry out in surprise as you feel him bury his nose over your clit, the jade piercing brushing against your stimulated folds. He actively rubbed his face against your pussy, causing a large wave of excitement that made you shudder as you moved your hips seeking more contact.

Just as you were about to reach orgasm, he pulls away from your pussy, forming a stream of saliva from your mouth to your pussy. You open your mouth and let out an anguished gasp.

"No! Please." You whimper, your legs tremble as that peak of pleasure escapes you for a long time.

You tighten your fingers in his hair in frustration, demanding that he give you the release you desire, but he pulls away. He stands there with a cheeky look as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, spreading his lubrication across his cheek.

“You will orgasm on my cock, my love.” He sighs, his voice hoarse with desire, his pupils darkening and his cock hard. "Let's go! Cry for K'uk'ulkan to give you a baby.”

You spread your legs to welcome him, your wet pussy brushing against the fabric covering his hardening cock. You search for more contact and rub your soaked entrance against his green shorts until he pulls them down. You sigh as you come across such a glorious sight.

“K’uk’ulkan.” You whisper at the sight of his hard compliance eager to accomplish his goal. He rests his dark red head, which was leaking and twitching involuntarily, on her swollen and sensitive clit. You squinted your eyes, enjoying the friction caused by the movements of his hips.

“Come on, wife! Pray that K'uk'ulkan will give you a baby.”

“K’uk’ulkan...” You begin as he positions his member at your entrance. “I beg you to give me a son.” He pushes his fulfillment against the curve of your center, answering your prayer. A loud moan escapes your dry throat when, in a single thrust, he penetrates you.

"Continues." He orders as he pushes his length, sliding it in easily thanks to his touches and how demanding your pussy was to receive him.

You throw your head back as you feel him fully inside You. Your mind goes black as all You can feel is him thrusting hard inside You, pounding until You can feel his heavy balls rubbing against your pussy. You could only moan obscenely as you closed your eyes.

"Let's go! Ask... Ask K'uk'ulkan to give you a baby. Beg him to fill your empty womb with his seed.” He gasps as he felt You squirm beneath him.

“K'uk'ulkan, I offer you everything; fruits, devotion, wine. I only ask that you fill my womb with your seed.” You hiss as you pull him closer, your walls bulging around him. “I give you my heart, my spirit and my love.”

“Offer more.” Demands her husband while thrusting mercilessly.

“I will fill your altar with dragon fruit and I will kneel...” You let out a loud moan when his dick hits that ideal spot inside You. “...Give me a baby.”

"Yes." He says as he chatters his teeth upon hearing your delightful prayer. He kisses her fiercely, a mixture of teeth and lips, her husband pulls away with his addictive lips.

“Your cry has been heard.” He places one hand on her belly to keep her steady while he penetrates her pussy. “K'uk'ulkan will give you a baby.”

Your nails dig painfully into your husband's back and you scream when you feel his dick rub every sensitive spot inside you, causing absurd waves of pleasure that spread through every cell in your body. Your husband growls, aligns his hips up, and digs his member as deep as he can, speeding up his movements.

He thrusts into you with precision, kissing your lips to swallow your screams of pleasure that escape your throat. Excitement fills her thoughts as You allow her husband, this God, to lift her to heaven with his cock. He sets a brutal pace, slamming his cock into her sensitive pussy. His breasts bounce painfully with each thrust of his hips.

"Take it." He growls the word, opening his teeth like an animal. “Take my seed, wife. Carry my children.”

He holds your hips with his fingers and squeezes them until his finger marks remain. You don't care, the pleasure he gave you left you oblivious to anything. He ejaculates inside You, shuddering as your walls accompany him in a sublime climax. With each generous jet of cum into his womb, you whimper with relief as you finally feel satisfied and full. He places soft kisses on your cheeks and lips.

You feel him soften in your pussy, he finally pulls out, releasing his fluids onto the sheets. He immediately shoves two fingers into her sensitive entrance pushing his cum back inside.

“Don’t waste anything.” He says, admiring the results of the desire between his fingers.

“Let me get up.” You say as you sit up in bed, or try to, your legs are shaking and your lungs are panting. “I must place a basket of dragon fruit on K'uk'ulkan's altar and kneel at his feet.”

“No need to bother, my love.” He says with his fingers still inside You. “He has his tasty dragon fruit right here. Ready to be devoured again and again and again.” He sticks a third finger inside You while using his other hand to touch your sensitive and aching clit. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re pregnant.”

You scream his name in a prayer of pleasure as his fingers begin to stimulate your clit and his fingers inside you stimulate the spongy flesh in your pussy.

[castellankurze]

ok but for real FF14 fans we gotta talk about the next 20 years in Eorzea cause it's gonna be wild

*There's gonna be some general Shadowbringers & Endwalker spoilers in this post.*

I'm making this now because something in 6.5 reminded me of this idea - no spoilers for 6.5 in particular though.

------------------------------------

So first, quick refresher: the FF14 setting has a pretty standard for the genre afterlife wherein souls of the dead merge with the planet's lifestream, they beat about for awhile, maybe ruminate on their past life, and then they can either merge with the greater whole or be reborn as new people. This got outlined all the way back in the 2.x patch series and became a major part of the plot for the Shadowbringers expansion, wherein the Warrior of Light is revealed to be a reincarnation of the ancient soul of Azem, or how the character Gaia is also a reincarnation of one of the Ascians.

Also a major part of the Shadowbringers plot are the revelations about the secret history of the world. How in forgotten ancient times, civilization threatened by a calamity called the Final Days offered up hundreds or possibly thousands of souls to create the god that would be known as Zodiark who would preserve the world, and how in time the goddess Hydaelyn would be created as an opposition to Zodiark's power. And that she ultimately sundered him into 14 pieces - and because Zodiark's nature was fundamentally tied into the essence of the world, when he was broken so too was the very planet and every living soul upon it, divided into the singular 'Source' and thirteen 'shards.' As part of Shadowbringers' plot, the character of Ardbert is revealed to be the First-shard part of the soul of the Warrior of Light, reuniting near the end of 5.0, and to villain Emet-Selch, these sundered souls are a pitiful shadow of the powerful, vibrant beings they once were in ancient times, unworthy of life.

Now here's where things get interesting.

During the course of our Endwalker adventures, we reach the lunar prison where the body of Zodiark is held captive. Due to some villainous machinations, the ancient god's bonds have been partially broken and his essence is leaking out, taking the form of ancient shades wandering about. One in particular we speak to is named Hythlodaeus. We had previously met this character - sort of, in the form of a memory conjured by Emet-Selch. This is the true Hythlodaeus, an ancient soul sacrificed to bring Zodiark into being. Despite joining the multitude of souls and the long slumber in imprisonment, he's coherent and holds a conversation.

Unsurprisingly, as the main character of a Final Fantasy title we go on to kill our setting's oldest god, and in so doing get a good look at the effect of the sundering on Zodiark: namely that in his case it was pretty literal, splitting off pieces of his body. However the interesting part of the Endwalker's implications is that while Zodiark was sundered, the individual souls that made up his being were not - after this confrontation we see and speak to our old new friend Hythlodaeus again, and again, both in a journey to the distant past and as we call up his soul for aid at the climax of the story...and he's the same person every time.

This...strongly hints that the myriad of ancient, unsundered souls which made up the bulk of Zodiark's essence have returned to the lifestream, and while major characters like Hythlodaeus, Emet-Selch and Venat seem content to leave the cycle of reincarnation for good and pass the world on to us modern folk...is that going to be true for everyone?

Are there, in fact, dozens - hundreds - thousands of Ancient, unsundered souls milling about in the aetherial sea, contemplating a return to the living world? Will the world of Etheirys over the next few years see a sudden wave of children with incredible power as these souls start to be reborn? Will the Warrior of Light, a soul merely eight times rejoined, be eclipsed in sheer strength by the might of a new generation?

The story will probably never go to such a place - after all it would essentially undo the themes of its two biggest expansions, and besides which, the story of FF14 as a whole will probably not venture so many years down the timeline to explore such a possibility.

But still. They say everything old is someday new again.

[opalsiren]

it's time we discussed a h2o reboot. like a full-on reboot, not a continuation nor a prequel of the original series, or a supposedly in-universe spin-off like mako mermaids

we definitely need more diversity race-wise since the original series is startlingly white. we definitely also need lgbt representation, maybe if two characters in the new mermaid trio had powers like rikki and emma they could have a canon relationship? or perhaps the lewis-type science geek in this version of events could be the girlfriend to this universe's cleo. obvi less misogynistic undertones in the writing is a must (see: the treatment of literally any female character other than emma, rikki, cleo, and bella h2o just add water)

at the risk of making the series needlessly gritty, delving into the darker aspects of canon could be a fun time. in the og series we have hiding secrets from family, kidnapping, grooming metaphors, fantasy violence, half a dozen near-death experiences, and allusions to mental ill health that could be further expanded upon in a reboot. i do feel like it would be near impossible to go through everything the merms do in the original series without ending up traumatised, so as a fellow mentally ill girlie i would like to see it!!

other than that, more explanation surrounding the lore could be cute. perhaps the new merms search the oceans for more moon pools, or stumble upon other mermaids. perhaps we could learn about different powers, how many generations of mermaids there are, delve more into the astronomy of it all with different lunar cycles impacting the merms in different ways. of course over-explaining the lore can take the magic out of it, but if done correctly it could be fun to explore

i'm really scratching my head trying to figure out how the og series could be improved upon in a hypothetical reboot so any and all suggestions are welcome!!!!

[star-wars-writing]

The Twilight Prophecy

Summary: In a world where the Sun Court reigns in perpetual daylight and the Moon Court thrives under starlit night, an ancient prophecy emerges to challenge the status quo. Crown Princes Cody and Obi-Wan, heirs to their respective thrones, find their destinies intertwined when a mysterious sorceress delivers a cryptic warning

A/N: So this one might be a bit different, once again it started with a prompt for the Codywan bingo @codywanbingo with theme Romance. but things might have gotten out of hand. @swfandomevents

The prompt for this was sharing armour. for now this is a one shot, but if you guys, the readers are open to it. depending on your reactions to the one shot I might be convinced to make it a series.

In the Moon Court, nestled in the heart of a kingdom where night reigned supreme and the stars whispered ancient secrets, life unfolded like a perpetual dance under the celestial dome. The court, an architectural marvel of pale stones and silver spires, mirrored the tranquil beauty of the moon it revered. At its center was the royal family, presided over by King Qui-gon, a ruler as enigmatic as the moon's hidden face, with Crown Prince Obi-Wan Kenobi, his eldest son, at his side.

Crown Prince Obi-Wan, with hair as fiery as a comet's tail, stood in stark contrast to the cool, muted hues of the court. His red locks, a rarity in the realm, were often likened to a stray strand of the sun caught in the lunar embrace. His presence in the court was like a steady flame; warm, illuminating, but never consuming. His eyes, a deep blue reminiscent of the twilight sky, held the calmness of the moonlit night and the intensity of a thousand stars.

King Qui-gon, a figure both respected and slightly feared, ruled with a wisdom that seemed to flow from the moon itself. His silver hair and beard, like the frosted edges of the moon, framed a face etched with the lines of time and responsibility. He was a king who spoke little, but when he did, his words held the weight of the night sky.

Anakin, Obi-Wan's younger brother, was the court's untamed storm. With hair as dark as the space between stars and eyes that sparkled with unbridled energy, he was a stark contrast to Obi-Wan's composed demeanor. Anakin's restless spirit often led him to the court's training grounds, where his prowess with the sword was as renowned as his impulsive nature.

Ahsoka, the youngest, was the court's dawn. Her laughter brought light to the dimmest corners, and her curiosity was as boundless as the night sky. Her presence was a gentle reminder of the dawn that followed every night, a symbol of hope and renewal in the Moon Court's often somber ambiance.

Life in the Moon Court was a delicate balance of tradition and the subtle magic that permeated the air. The nights were filled with quiet conversations, the rustle of silk robes, and the soft clinking of teacups. Scholars and astronomers were as revered as knights, their knowledge of the stars and the moon considered essential to the kingdom's wellbeing.

Music was the soul of the court, with melodies often drifting through the corridors like a soft breeze. Instruments that mimicked the sound of the night—gentle flutes, stringed instruments, and soft drums—created an ambiance that was both soothing and enigmatic.

The courtiers moved with a grace that mirrored the phases of the moon, their robes flowing in silvery and blue hues, adorned with motifs of stars and celestial bodies. In this court, every gesture, every word spoken, was as measured and deliberate as the lunar cycle.

In the heart of it all was Obi-Wan, a prince not only of blood but of the people. His days were spent in council meetings, where he listened more than he spoke, his judgments always fair and thoughtful. His nights were dedicated to the study of ancient texts and star charts, seeking wisdom in the patterns of the cosmos.

Yet, beneath the calm surface, there was a current of anticipation, a sense of a destiny not yet fulfilled. Obi-Wan, more than anyone, felt this unspoken promise that hung in the air like a pending eclipse. It was a feeling that whispered of changes to come, of paths yet to be walked, and of a bond that would define not only his fate but that of the Moon Court itself.

**** 

In the resplendent Sun Court, where day held sway and golden light bathed the land in warmth and vitality, the rhythm of life pulsated with a vibrancy befitting its celestial patron. The court itself was an architectural splendor, its walls and towers crafted from sun-kissed stone that shimmered like the surface of a star. At its heart was the royal family, led by King Jango, a monarch whose presence was as commanding as the sun in the zenith sky, with Crown Prince Cody, his eldest son, shining brightly by his side.

Crown Prince Cody was the embodiment of the Sun Court's ideals – his bearing noble and his gaze as piercing as the midday sun. His hair, a rich brown, like the fertile earth nourished by sunlight, complemented his sturdy, yet graceful demeanor. Cody's presence in the court was like a steady beacon; guiding, assuring, but always approachable. His eyes, reflecting the clear blue of a cloudless sky, held the promise of endless horizons and the resolve of daylight.

King Jango, a ruler whose reign was marked by prosperity and strength, led with a firm but fair hand. His hair and beard, peppered with strands of gray, spoke of years under the sun, commanding battles and councils alike. His decision to ascend the throne after King Jaster, his father and the former king, abdicated, was accepted with reverence by the court. Jaster, still a respected figure, remained a guiding star in the court's firmament, his wisdom as perennial as the sun itself.

The younger princes, Rex, Wolffe, Fives, and Echo, were like rays of the same sun, each unique in their brilliance. Rex, with his sharp mind and tactical acumen, was often found in the company of the court's strategists, his keen insights as valuable as any seasoned general's. Wolffe, more reserved, shared a deep interest in the court's engineering feats, his innovative ideas reflecting the Sun Court's continuous quest for progress. Fives and Echo, inseparable in their mischief and mirth, brought a spirited energy to the court, their laughter echoing through the halls like the playful dance of sunbeams.

Life in the Sun Court was a grand tapestry of color and celebration, where the arts flourished under the generous patronage of the royal family. The days were filled with lively debates in the council chambers, the clanging of swords in the training yards, and the hustle of trade in the bustling marketplaces. Knights and scholars alike were esteemed, their roles pivotal in upholding the court's glory.

Music in the Sun Court was a bold symphony, with brass and percussion leading the charge, their sounds evoking the power and majesty of the sun. The courtiers, adorned in vibrant colors – oranges, reds, and yellows – moved with a confidence that mirrored the court's solar inspiration. In this court, every action, every word resonated with the intensity of the sun's rays.

At the center was Cody, a prince whose responsibilities encompassed not just royal duties but the aspirations of his people. He was often seen engaging with his subjects, his approachability as a leader as cherished as his strategic mind. His evenings, though less public, were spent in deep study and contemplation, his gaze often turning skyward, where the setting sun met the rising moon, a silent acknowledgment of a world beyond his own.

Yet, beneath the Sun Court's radiant facade, there was an undercurrent of expectation, a sense of a destiny intertwined with that of another realm. Cody, more than anyone, felt this looming promise, a sense that his path was not his alone to tread. It was a feeling that hinted at a convergence of day and night, of a bond that would bridge the gap between the Sun Court and a kingdom not of light, but of moonlit shadows.

*** 

In the twilight-kissed ruins of the abandoned castle, where history whispered from every stone, the annual council of the Moon and Sun Courts convened. This year's gathering was marked by a significant change – for the first time, Kings Qui-gon and Jango had brought their sons, introducing the next generation to the intricate dance of diplomacy and trade.

The castle, a relic of a forgotten time, stood at the very edge where day melted into night, its once proud walls now softened by age and draped in ivy. Its grand hall, though worn by years, echoed with renewed life as the delegations of both courts assembled, their robes fluttering like banners of night and day.

Crown Prince Obi-Wan of the Moon Court, his fiery red hair a vivid contrast against his silver-hued attire, stepped into the hall with a quiet confidence. His gaze, curious and observant, swept over the Sun Court's delegation, taking in the bright colors and bold patterns that seemed to capture the essence of sunlight.

Across the room, Crown Prince Cody of the Sun Court, his stature both noble and approachable, mirrored Obi-Wan's curiosity. His hair, the color of fertile earth, was complemented by the golden embroidery of his attire, reminiscent of the rays of the midday sun.

As the council commenced, King Qui-gon, his voice as serene as a moonlit night, spoke of the Moon Court's rich deposits of moonstone and star silver, precious materials sought after by the Sun Court. King Jango, his tone warm and commanding, offered in exchange the Sun Court's abundant harvests and solar-infused elixirs, items of great value to the Moon Court.

The discussion of trade routes, quantities, and protections unfolded with a practiced rhythm, the two kings negotiating with a mutual respect forged over years of such meetings. Amidst the bartering and agreements, Obi-Wan and Cody's eyes met, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

During a recess, the princes found themselves standing near an ancient, vine-covered balcony. "First council?" Cody inquired, his voice casual but friendly.

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied, a slight smile on his lips. "It's more... vibrant than I expected. The exchange of goods, it's like a dance of resources and needs."

Cody nodded. "It's the rhythm of our courts, isn't it? Day and night, each providing what the other lacks. Balance."

Their conversation, initially revolving around the intricacies of the council, gradually became more personal, veering towards their lives within their respective courts. Obi-Wan spoke of the tranquil nights and starlit ceremonies of the Moon Court, while Cody shared tales of sun-drenched fields and lively festivals under the sun.

As the meeting resumed, and they returned to their delegations, there was a mutual sense of understanding, a recognition that they were not just princes of opposing realms, but custodians of a delicate balance.

Throughout the rest of the council, as their fathers deliberated over the final details of the trade agreement, Obi-Wan and Cody exchanged occasional glances and subtle nods. In those brief moments, a foundation was laid for a relationship that would, in time, transcend the mere exchange of goods and speak to the deeper bond between day and night, sun and moon.

During a lull in the council proceedings, as the courtiers mingled and the kings conferred in hushed tones, Crown Princes Cody and Obi-Wan found themselves gravitating towards each other, away from the throng. They walked side by side towards one of the castle's ancient archways, which framed the setting sun on one side and the rising moon on the other, a perfect intersection of their two worlds.

Cody's gaze lingered on the horizon, where the sun's fiery farewell kissed the moon's cool greeting. "It's quite something, isn't it? The sun and moon, always chasing, never meeting."

Obi-Wan nodded, his eyes reflecting the twilight hues. "Yet, here we are, standing where they converge. It's poetic in a way."

Their conversation, initially a shared admiration for the celestial dance, slowly turned towards the more personal. Cody's posture, relaxed yet attentive, and Obi-Wan's thoughtful demeanor, created an atmosphere of ease and openness.

"You know," Cody began, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity, "I've always wondered what it's like in the Moon Court. Is it as tranquil as they say?"

Obi-Wan's lips curved into a soft smile. "Tranquility is one word for it. It's a world of introspection, of seeking wisdom in the stars. But it can also be... isolating. The night is beautiful, but it's also vast and endless."

Cody's eyes met Obi-Wan's, a spark of understanding in their depths. "I suppose the Sun Court is its opposite then. It's always bustling, always bright. Sometimes it feels like there's no space to breathe, to think. The sun can be overbearing at its zenith."

Their shared laughter at Cody's words was a brief, harmonious note that seemed to bridge their contrasting worlds.

"I imagine that's why these councils are important," Obi-Wan mused, his gaze returning to the horizon. "They're not just about trade and politics. They're about understanding, about seeing the world through each other's eyes."

Cody nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Do you think we'll ever achieve that? True understanding between our courts?"

"I believe so," Obi-Wan replied, his voice carrying a quiet conviction. "Understanding begins with individuals. It starts with conversations like this."

Their dialogue was interrupted as the council bell tolled, signaling the end of the break. As they turned to rejoin the others, their steps synchronized, there was an unspoken agreement between them – a commitment to bridge the gap between day and night, sun and moon, one conversation at a time.

As they parted ways at the archway, the brief contact of their hands was like a spark – fleeting, but potent enough to kindle a connection that promised to grow stronger with each passing council. In that moment, unnoticed by the busy courtiers, a seed of change was planted, watered by the hope of understanding and the possibility of unity in a world divided by light and shadow.

On the third evening of the council, as the twilight sky melted into a tapestry of stars and the crescent moon, a grand dinner was held in the castle's ancient dining hall. The long tables were adorned with candles that flickered like distant stars, casting a warm glow over the assembled nobility of the Sun and Moon Courts. At the center of this constellation of courtiers sat Kings Qui-gon and Jango, their presence commanding yet genial, a testament to years of leadership and diplomacy.

Opposite their fathers, Crown Princes Cody and Obi-Wan were seated beside each other, the candlelight playing across their features, softening the lines of their royal bearing. As the dinner progressed, the hum of conversation filled the hall, a blend of laughter, clinking silverware, and the subtle rustling of fine garments.

Cody turned towards Obi-Wan, his expression open and curious. "Prince Obi-Wan, I've been meaning to ask – what is it like to train in the ways of your court's mystic arts? I've heard tales of the Moon Court's connection to the stars."

Obi-Wan's eyes lit up, a spark of enthusiasm breaking through his usual composure. "It's a lifelong journey of learning, Prince Cody. The stars and the moon guide us, teaching us about balance and the flow of the cosmos. It's more than just training; it's a way of understanding our place in the universe."

Cody's interest was palpable, his gaze intent. "That sounds... profound. In the Sun Court, our focus is often on the tangible – the strength of the body, the mastery of combat, the art of governance. I wonder what it would be like to look beyond, to see the world as you do."

Their conversation, rich with the exchange of ideas and perspectives, continued seamlessly, almost as if the crowded hall around them had faded into the background. As they spoke, their fathers occasionally glanced their way, noting the ease of their interaction with a mixture of surprise and quiet approval.

Obi-Wan, usually reserved, found himself intrigued by Cody's genuine curiosity and the earnestness with which he spoke of his own experiences. "Your world sounds fascinating, Cody. There's a certain... vitality to the way you describe it. I admit, there are times I wish the Moon Court had a bit more of the Sun Court's vigor."

Cody smiled, a warm, inviting expression that seemed to reflect the very essence of his court. "And I sometimes long for the tranquility and depth of yours. Perhaps that's the key, isn't it? Learning from each other, finding harmony between day and night."

Their dialogue, rich and engaging, continued throughout the dinner, touching upon topics from the philosophical to the mundane. It was a conversation that wove a thread between them, a connection that went beyond their titles and responsibilities. In the shared laughter, the exchange of insights, and the subtle understanding that passed between them, a foundation was being laid – the first stepping stone in a journey that would redefine not only their relationship but potentially the future of their courts.

As the final day of the council dawned, the ancient castle found itself enveloped in the soft, ethereal light of twilight, where night gently handed over the reins to day. It was in this tranquil hour that Crown Princes Cody and Obi-Wan, drawn by a shared sense of purpose and curiosity, found themselves atop the highest tower of the castle.

Standing side by side, they watched in silence as the horizon blurred the lines between their two worlds, the night's darkness fading into the warm embrace of the morning light. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of dew and ancient stone.

Cody broke the silence, his voice soft yet clear in the quiet of the morning. "I often stand on the battlements of the Sun Court at dawn, watching the world awaken. There's a sense of endless possibilities with each new day, a new beginning."

Obi-Wan turned to face him, the first light of dawn casting a golden glow on his red hair. "In the Moon Court, we watch the stars fade into morning. It's a reminder that even the longest night has an end, that there's a rhythm and cycle to everything."

Their eyes met, a mutual understanding flickering between them. They were princes of different realms, yet in this moment, they were simply two individuals, sharing their hopes and dreams.

"What do you dream of for your future, Cody?" Obi-Wan asked, his gaze returning to the horizon.

Cody's eyes reflected the sky's changing colors. "I dream of a kingdom that thrives, not just in strength and prosperity, but in wisdom and understanding. A kingdom that looks beyond the horizon, that learns from others."

"And you, Obi-Wan? What are your dreams?" Cody's question was tinged with genuine interest.

Obi-Wan's response was thoughtful, his words measured. "I dream of balance. A balance between tradition and progress, between the mystic and the tangible. I want to lead the Moon Court into a future where we are not just observers of the night but active participants in the world's tapestry."

Their conversation flowed naturally, as if the barriers of their titles and duties had been left at the foot of the tower. They spoke of their aspirations for their people, their personal hopes, and the challenges they anticipated. In the shared confidences and laughter, a bond was being forged, strengthened by the understanding that their dreams were not so different after all.

As the sun fully broke the horizon, bathing the world in its light, they stood in a companionable silence, each lost in thoughts of the future and the role they would play in it.

It was Cody who finally spoke, his voice carrying a newfound resolve. "Perhaps our courts are more alike than we thought. Maybe this is just the beginning, Obi-Wan. A beginning of something greater than just trade and alliances."

Obi-Wan nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I believe you're right, Cody. This is a beginning. And it's one we can shape together."

As they descended from the tower, the first rays of the sun meeting the last whispers of the night, there was a sense of promise in the air, a feeling that this meeting was the first step in a journey that would bridge the gap between their worlds, guided by their shared dreams and visions for the future.

As the final day of the council waned, a serene twilight enveloped the ancient castle, softening the edges of shadows and light. The grand hall, alive with the closure of the five-day meeting between the Sun and Moon Courts, was suddenly hushed as an unexpected figure appeared at the entrance. A sorceress, clad in robes that shimmered like the starlit sky, stood with an air of enigmatic power.

The hall fell into a deep silence, the bustling energy of the courtiers replaced by a palpable sense of anticipation and unease. King Jango of the Sun Court and King Qui-gon of the Moon Court, their expressions shifting from surprise to guarded wariness, stood to confront this unforeseen visitor.

Crown Prince Cody and Crown Prince Obi-Wan exchanged a tense glance, both aware of the potential gravity of this moment. They stood alert, their attention fixed on the mysterious sorceress.

She stepped gracefully into the room, her presence commanding the attention of all present. Her voice, clear and resonant, echoed through the hall, her words weaving a rhyme that carried the weight of prophecy:

"In twilight's embrace, where night greets the day,

A trial looms near, a path shadowed and gray.

Heart and armor must meet, in a bond forged anew,

Uniting sun's blaze with the moon's silver hue.

Together, two realms must face a dark hour,

A union of souls, their greatest power.

Should this bond break, or fail to be found,

Both sun and moon shall lose their crown."

The sorceress's words, cryptic yet haunting, resonated through the hall, leaving a ripple of whispered speculation and concern. The courtiers and delegates exchanged uneasy glances, pondering the ominous implications of her message.

Cody, his expression a mix of skepticism and contemplation, turned to Obi-Wan. "Hearts and armor... Could she be speaking of us, of our courts?"

Obi-Wan, his eyes thoughtful, nodded slowly. "It seems so. This prophecy... it suggests a unity deeper than mere alliances. Something more personal, perhaps."

King Qui-gon and King Jango shared a concerned look, the implications of the prophecy not lost on them. The sorceress's mention of hearts and armor hinted at a bond beyond political ties, suggesting a personal connection that could hold the key to their realms' futures.

As the sorceress turned, her cloak billowing around her like a dark cloud, she vanished into the twilight as mysteriously as she had appeared. Her departure left a trail of questions and a sense of foreboding that lingered in the air.

The council, now officially concluded, left the members of both courts with more than just diplomatic resolutions; they carried with them the weight of a prophetic warning. As they began to depart, Cody and Obi-Wan remained, their shared glance one of determination and newfound understanding.

As the sorceress's enigmatic presence faded into the twilight, a restless energy began to stir in the grand hall. The initial shock of her visit slowly gave way to a flurry of conversations among the courtiers and delegates of the Sun and Moon Courts. The once orderly gathering turned into a mosaic of hushed debates and speculative discussions, with the sorceress's prophecy at the heart of it all.

In one corner, a group of Moon Court scholars huddled together, their brows furrowed in concentration. "Hearts and armor, sun and moon... It's as if she speaks of a union, a convergence of our realms," one mused, his fingers tracing the patterns on his star-embroidered robe.

Nearby, a cluster of Sun Court knights speculated with a mix of skepticism and concern. "Could it be a ploy? Another kingdom sowing seeds of fear and discord?" a knight questioned, his hand unconsciously resting on the pommel of his sword.

At the center of the hall, Kings Qui-gon and Jango convened in a quiet, intense discussion. Their expressions were a study in contemplation, weighing the potential meanings and implications of the prophecy. They were leaders seasoned by years of rule, accustomed to navigating the murky waters of political intrigue and veiled threats.

Cody and Obi-Wan, standing a short distance away from their fathers, exchanged their thoughts in a low, earnest conversation. "It's hard to dismiss her words as mere madness," Cody said, his gaze lingering on the spot where the sorceress had stood. "The prophecy... it felt charged with truth, or at least with purpose."

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting a deep introspection. "Indeed. And the reference to hearts and armor... it implies a personal sacrifice or a personal bond. It's not something we can ignore."

Their dialogue was interrupted as Anakin and Ahsoka approached, their youthful curiosity evident. "Do you really think there's something to her words?" Anakin asked, his tone a mix of excitement and skepticism.

Ahsoka, her eyes wide with a blend of worry and wonder, added, "It felt like she was speaking directly to you, Cody, and to you, Obi-Wan. Like you're a part of this prophecy."

The conversation was cut short as King Qui-gon addressed the room, his voice carrying a calm authority that quieted the murmurs. "We will consider the sorceress's words with the seriousness they deserve. For now, let us not jump to conclusions or let fear guide our actions."

King Jango nodded in agreement. "We have always stood strong, united in our differences. This will not change. Let us return to our courts and contemplate our next steps with wisdom and caution."

As the delegates began to disperse, the air still tinged with uncertainty, Cody and Obi-Wan lingered, their thoughts lingering on the enigmatic prophecy. There was a sense of an invisible thread weaving through their conversation, tying their fates to the words of the sorceress.

*** 

As the Moon Court delegation embarked on their nocturnal journey back to their realm, they traversed under a star-studded sky, where the cosmos painted stories in the vastness above. The soft sounds of the night were punctuated by the rhythmic canter of horses, their hooves gently tapping the earth, harmonizing with the nocturnal symphony of the wilderness.

Crown Prince Obi-Wan, astride a graceful steed that moved with an almost ethereal grace, led the procession. The horse, a magnificent creature with a coat as dark as the night sky and eyes that reflected the moon's glow, seemed an extension of Obi-Wan himself, moving with a quiet dignity that mirrored his rider's temperament.

Obi-Wan's posture was relaxed yet alert, his eyes occasionally lifting to gaze at the celestial tapestry above. The cool night air brushed against his skin, carrying whispers of the forest and the secrets of the night. His mind, however, was far from at ease, troubled by the words of the sorceress. "A union of hearts and armor..." he whispered to himself, the prophecy resonating within him, a puzzle waiting to be unraveled.

The thought of Prince Cody surfaced unbidden in his mind – their recent conversations, the shared looks, the subtle but unmistakable connection that had begun to form between them. Could this enigmatic prophecy be alluding to something beyond the political, something personal that tied them together?

Lost in thought, Obi-Wan hardly noticed when his younger brother, Anakin, rode up alongside him, breaking his contemplation. Anakin's horse, a spirited animal with a fiery mane, matched his rider's energetic and bold spirit.

"Lost in the stars, brother?" Anakin asked, his voice carrying a light, teasing tone, yet tinged with concern.

Obi-Wan smiled faintly, acknowledging Anakin's attempt to lighten his mood. "Just pondering the sorceress's words. They hint at something deeper than alliances – a bond of a more personal nature."

Riding on his other side, Ahsoka joined the conversation, her horse a dappled gray that moved with a lively step. "It does sound daunting, but we've faced challenges before. And we'll face this one together, whatever it may be."

The siblings continued their journey under the night sky, the conversation veering between light-hearted banter and thoughtful discussions about the future. Despite the uncertainty of the prophecy, their bond as a family offered a comforting sense of solidity against the unknown.

Upon reaching the Moon Court's castle, a silhouette of spires and turrets that seemed to rise out of the darkness itself, Obi-Wan dismounted his horse, his gaze lingering on the stars above. Though the path ahead was shrouded in mystery, he felt a renewed sense of purpose, fortified by the support of his family and the intriguing possibility of the bond foretold in the prophecy. In the quiet assurance of the night, Obi-Wan found a silent resolve, a determination to face whatever challenges lay ahead, guided by the light of the stars and the strength of newfound connections.

As the Sun Court delegation made their way back to their kingdom, the journey was bathed in the brilliant light of the sun, casting long, golden shadows across the land. The entourage moved with a steady rhythm, the sound of hooves and the occasional clink of armor punctuating the air, resonating with the vibrant energy of the day.

At the forefront, Crown Prince Cody rode a majestic horse, its coat a lustrous golden hue that seemed to capture and reflect the sunlight. The horse moved with a proud, assertive gait, mirroring Cody's own confident and resolute nature. Cody sat tall in the saddle, his posture embodying the strength and poise of the Sun Court.

The warm sunlight played across his face, highlighting a thoughtful expression that seemed uncharacteristic of his usually decisive demeanor. Cody's mind was preoccupied with the sorceress's enigmatic prophecy, her words echoing in his head like a distant drumbeat. "Hearts and armor... a union beyond our courts," he mused, the idea both intriguing and unsettling.

Cody's contemplation was noticed by his younger brother, Rex, who rode up beside him. Rex's horse, a sturdy and reliable steed, matched his rider's practical and steadfast spirit.

"Something on your mind, Cody?" Rex inquired, his tone casual but perceptive.

Cody glanced at his brother, his expression softening. "Just thinking about the sorceress's warning. It suggests a bond that goes deeper than mere alliances. I wonder if it's pointing to something... or someone."

Rex nodded, understanding the weight of such thoughts. "Do you think it has to do with the Moon Court? With Prince Obi-Wan, perhaps?"

Cody's gaze drifted to the horizon, where the sun continued its relentless journey across the sky. "It's possible. Our interactions have been... different. There's an understanding there that I can't quite explain."

As they continued their ride, the conversation turned to the implications of the prophecy and what it might mean for the future of their court. Despite the uncertainty, Rex's presence and pragmatic insights offered Cody a sense of groundedness, a reminder that he wasn't alone in facing the challenges ahead.

Upon arriving at the Sun Court's castle, a magnificent structure that seemed to rise like a phoenix from the land, bathed in perpetual sunlight, Cody dismounted his horse. He stood for a moment, taking in the sight of his home, the walls glowing as if lit from within by the sun's eternal fire.

The journey back had left him with more questions than answers, but in the bright light of day, Cody found a sense of clarity and resolve. Whatever the prophecy entailed, whatever trials lay ahead, he knew that the strength of his court and the potential of the bond foretold would guide them through. The sun's unwavering journey across the sky was a reminder that even in the face of uncertainty, the light would always find a way to shine through.

****

As I said at the beginning, depending on your reactions, I might make this a series, but I would love to hear if that was something you wanted or not? If this one shot has satisfied your curiosity or not.

[talonabraxas]

Intuitive Astrology: Libra Full Moon Lunar Eclipse March 2024

Eclipse Season 2024 begins with a Partial Full Moon Lunar Eclipse in the sign of Libra on March 25th.

Full Moon Eclipses amplify the energy of a Full Moon, so you can think of them as Full Moon energy times ten! For that reason, they are incredibly powerful and believed to open portals to higher states of consciousness.

The portal that opens under this Libra Lunar Eclipse is one of endings. It seems that we are being guided to bring something to a close. Perhaps it’s a thought pattern, way of belief, or, perhaps it is something more tangible like the ending of a job, relationship, or chapter of our lives.

Eclipses affect us all on different levels and at varying degrees, but they always leave their imprint and always put us where we need to be. In fact, it is believed that Eclipses unlock fated contracts.

It is also important to mention that this Libra Lunar Eclipse is part of a bigger Eclipse cycle that began in April 2023 and will continue for the remainder of this year. The next time we revisit this same Eclipse cycle will be in October, so it’s likely whatever comes up in March will only be part of the story. We may have to wait until October 2024 or even March 2025, when we experience the last Eclipse in this series, for the full picture.

Full Moon in Libra Talon Abraxas

[cleolinda]

Varney the Vampire: A Preface

I want you to think back to what it’s like to reread your old work from years ago—your old stories or poetry, your old school papers, or even your old tumblr posts. Sometimes you’re actually kind of pleased, sure, but I want you to really go back and locate yourself in the heady cringe of that feeling.

In related news, I'm going to pick back up with the Varney the Vampire recaps I started in late 2010 CE. I got about nine chapters in, and then something, who knows what, derailed my life, as things tend to. Like, I'm used to this, it happens with the regularity of a lunar cycle. But I like writing about vampires (clearly), and since I feel like Dracula has been tread pretty thoroughly in recent times, I figured I might go back to something different; we had some lively discussions about Varney back then.

But 2010 was a time before A Lot of Things happened. I was in my early 30s at that point, so I won't say, "Oh, I was so young," but I had a very different energy as a blogger 12-13 years ago. So I've decided to rewrite the recaps a little—some more than others, some not much at all. I just feel like I have a really different perspective on the first chapter in particular, in 2023.

As before, I'm using the full, unabridged text. It is hideously long, something like 230+ chapters, but go big or go home, I figure. The thing is, I was using the files hosted at the University of Virginia, and now you can only get those through the Wayback Machine, but they are still usable for now. I have various backups saved, but I do want you to be able to see that I am, as ever, Not Making It Up.

I'm also not going to quibble anymore as to whether James Malcolm Rymer or Thomas Peckett Prest wrote this behemoth. Per Wikipedia sources, scholars seem to agree that it was all or mostly Rymer. When it's mentioned that they figured this out based on his dialogue style, I went... yeah, that checks out. Because it sure is A Style, and I'll be honest, the repetitive filler dialogue in chapter 10 was such a speedbump for me that I just threw up my hands and said, "I don't know how to recap this. Something I can't remember now is going on in my life and I Cannot. I no longer Can."

Well, it's the 2020s and we're gonna. Like I can't tell you how much stress I do not have about this. I've had covid three times and also spinal surgery. Varney the Vampire can no longer hurt me.

To start, this ordeal has a preface—apparently written upon the occasion of collecting the serial into book form—wherein The Author expresses his gratitude for "unprecedented success of the romance of Varney the Vampyre." First off, Rymer uses "vampire" and "vampyre" interchangeably, because fuck me for caring about consistency, I guess. Second, as Wikipedia notes,

It first appeared in 1845–1847 as a series of weekly cheap pamphlets of the kind then known as "penny dreadfuls." The author was paid by the typeset line [YEAH, I NOTICED], so when the story was published in book form in 1847, it was of epic length: the original edition ran to 876 double-columned pages and 232 chapters. Altogether it totals nearly 667,000 words.

For comparison, all of Lord of the Rings plus The Hobbit is 576,459 words. I sure do blanch every time I see those numbers! It's fine. We're gonna be fine. Back to the preface:

The following romance is collected from seemingly the most authentic sources, and the Author must leave the question of credibility entirely to his readers, not even thinking that he is peculiarly called upon to express his own opinion upon the subject.

"Seemingly" is doing a lot of work here.

Nothing has been omitted [for real, nothing down to the tiniest fly-swat has been omitted] in the life of the unhappy Varney, which could tend to throw a light upon his most extraordinary career, and the fact of his death just as it is here related, made a great noise at the time through Europe, and is to be found in the public prints for the year 1713.

I've seen more than one Dracula multimedia art project where people recreated the letters and diaries and recordings in the book (have you heard my whole thing about how Dracula actually was a cutting-edge techno-thriller back in 1897?), but I've never heard of anyone creating ARG-style media for the Totally for Actual-Fact Real tale of Sir Francis Varney the Vampire, and I think it would be hilarious if someone did.

I won't belabor the entire preface, but what I do want to touch on is Rymer's mention of "unprecedented success." Varney is actually standing on the shoulders of a vampire giant, and it's not the one we would think of. Nowadays, our big touchstone—the influence so great that most works either evoke it or take the trouble to say "Our vampires are different"—is Dracula, obviously. Which was published exactly 50 years after Varney, in 1897. But Varney's touchstone is Polidori's short story "The Vampyre" (1819). And for most of the 1800s, this was everyone's touchstone. Per Wikipedia (which I'm going to lean on for how concise it is, but I concur with this from my own research as well):

An adaptation appeared in 1820 with Cyprien Bérard's novel Lord Ruthwen ou les Vampires, falsely attributed to Charles Nodier, who himself then wrote his own dramatic version, Le Vampire, a play which had enormous success and sparked a "vampire craze" across Europe. This includes operatic adaptations by Heinrich Marschner (see Der Vampyr) and Peter Josef von Lindpaintner (see Der Vampyr), both published in the same year. Nikolai Gogol, Alexandre Dumas [note: I have the Ruthven play he wrote around here somewhere] and Aleksey Tolstoy all produced vampire tales, and themes in Polidori's tale would continue to influence Bram Stoker's Dracula and eventually the whole vampire genre. Dumas makes explicit reference to Lord Ruthven in The Count of Monte Cristo, going so far as to state that his character "The Comtesse G..." had been personally acquainted with Lord Ruthven. [...]

In England, James Planché's play The Vampire, or The Bride of the Isles was first performed in London in 1820 at the Lyceum Theatre based on Charles Nodier's Le Vampire, which in turn was based on Polidori. Such melodramas were satirised in Ruddigore, by Gilbert and Sullivan (1887); a character called Sir Ruthven must abduct a maiden, or he will die.

Back when no one gave a shit about copyright, Polidori's work was spun out into a cottage industry of knock-off stories and plays, an entire horror zeitgeist. Lord Ruthven was, for 78 years, who you copied, who you riffed on, who you parodied, what Count Dracula is to us now: the archetypal vampire. The Big Guy. And Varney is clearly cut from his cloth—the ostensible gentleman who worms his way into the lives of respectable, unwitting people. Unlike Dracula, there's no foreigner Othering, no "historical basis," no undercurrents of contagion and infection, no ambition to make the world his wine-press, none of that; Ruthven is a simpler figure, but the dominant one of this time no less. He is a stranger who shows up in the middle of London high society, icy and distant, his eyes “dead grey”—stern, yet somehow compelling when he cares to be. And when he cares to be, you're in trouble.

And this is the cultural consciousness when Francis Varney shows up.

[Chapter one will go up sometime this week, March 8-10 or so.]

[frosted-night]

In regards to the book series, I think the part I think of rewriting the most is Nightlights transformation into Jack Frost. Its no secret it's rather.. bloated in some areas.

The transformation makes me think of the life cycle of a star, moreso since Nightlights used to be stars/are made of components from stars. It'd be fascinating to see Nightlight go through such an event and resort to coming out of his isolation for help.

For example, he does indeed lose his glow and gain a solid body but much like a collapsing star; he starts getting horrid hot flashes or fevers. Nightlight could turn to Sandy or Aster and ask if they know anything about whats happening to him. Sandy knowing very little about Nightlights would suggest going to the Man In The Moon, for he might have more information.

Katherine accompanies him to help keep an eye on him and Manny has quite the reunion with his estranged guardian. He quickly realizes Nightlight is in terrible condition and offers any assistance he can. The only place he can think of that has information on Nightlights would be the remnants of the moon clipper inside his lunar home. This would show Manny's complicated feelings towards visiting his parent's former study but he'd keep himself together as best he can. Despite his underlying fear of possibly losing the only family he has left.

Him and Katherine find a journal written by Manny's father detailing what he learned about Nightlights after obtaining one. Both shocked that Nightlight has a very likely chance of dying and becoming a star again do everything they can to help Nightlight. He enters a deep sleep and his core begins to cool.

Manny gets some characterization by worrying over Jack and praying he survives. Nothing he can find says what happens if a Nightlight doesn't become a star again and its getting to him. Katherine tries to be the grounded one but both fall apart at the notion of losing him.

Nightlight eventually wakes up, maybe keeping the idea he slept for a LONG time. Manny, making sure his body was watched over and delights in his brothers awakening. Both conversing over his new form and identity.

I could go on for ages how I'd rewrite it,, but its been rotting my brain for a while.

[etherealhighpriestess]

Pick a Pile: Message from the Mermaids

Take a deep breath and choose one of the options below according to your intuition 💜✨💜✨💜

Pile 1 - Fertility

Potential, powerful creative energy, initiation energy.

We mermaids are creatures who bring to you now a powerful force: the power to create, begin, initiate and grow - some call it fertility and they consider it to be only to do with the act of conception - you are now a fertile being - a being who is ready and has all the energy, and richness and goodness needed to bring forth a great project. This is the moment of decision for you: will you use this great power, and seek out what it is you need to seed your own fertile waters?

We mermaids say that it may be time - that you have all that is needed, desired to richly provide life to creations, ideas, people, dreams... it is now time for you to decide how this will be worked with, used and explored.

You are a fertile, enriching being - and new life and growth is ready to spring from your mind, your emotions, your body and your soul.

Mermaids' tips:

- If you are having difficulties conceiving a baby you may need to balance your hormone levels, create a healing diet and series of exercises to support and nurture your own physical fertility and of course seek medical help.

- Do not let this fertile time come to nothing. Sew the seed of ideas, of dreams, and action them out into the world, into reality. The mermaids know you are the right one to bring this idea or being or project through.

Pile 2 - Freedom

Independence, self-determination.

Sometimes in life, we identify and define ourselves by the groups or organisations we belong to. Somewhere along the way, our unique energy can be muffled. With this card, we mermaids are asking you to consider who you are, when you are not a member of a family, or a relationship, or an organisation. It is time to be self-determined - rather than considering the needs of the group, which is noble and wonderful and ...oh, it is so good! We are asking you to be independent! To have, at last, your own source of money - just a small account will do, where you place money for your dreams.

To have a sense of who you are whether in or without a loving relationship! To know who you are - and what it is you love and like and wish for and dream of and desire for the world, apart from the desires of the family or group. Because the group mind, has, at this time, dominated, however gently, your own independence and self-determination. So take some time. Detach from the group. Watch. Observe. But go within, and feel. And begin to note what it is you wish for - and begin to contribute those dreams to the group. Too long have you kept silent about your needs and desires, placing others' before your own! When this card comes to you, we mermaids are saying it is your turn - but first you must get to know yourself, your true self, all over again.

Mermaids' tips:

- Ask yourself this very simple question...if you were alone, for a week, and there were no groups around to ask you to vote, or think, or look or be a certain way who would you be? It may be that you have changed your appearance, your beliefs and even your body to please or be more closely aligned with another.

- Don't change your appearance, interests, religion, and manners to fit into someone else's life or preferences.

Pile 3 - Farewell to the moon

Appreciate and enjoy the lunar light and cycles.

We love the Moon...for she is precious, and yet we are bidding her a long farewell, appreciating her energy. Humans are not so long-lived, and their priorities often reflect their lifespan, but we know the beautiful Moon is distancing herself little by little...and the power of the Sun grows stronger. So we connect as much as we can, when she is present. And if you too watch the sky and her crystal ball, you will feel the sea mother's tides and cycles dancing with the sacred moon's waxing and waning. That all in the Universe breathes as one. And that what is above, connects and affects what is below.

You humans too respond to the moon's tides, to the solar tides, to the galactic tides. The great ocean may respond more readily, but the firm earth also breathes in and out, as do the waters of this beautiful planet - all dancing with the Moon, and observed by this beautiful Being of the Sea.

Connect with her - for she moves you, always... come to know her, and you will know the mystery of life, without ever being able to speak it... it will live in your bones, blood and cells, in the water of your blood, and you will be free of the falsehoods of your human time, and come to know the times and cycles that are old, wise and powerful.

Mermaids' tips:

- Observe the moon. Be under her light. Withdraw with her darkening. Know what her phase was at the moment you first drew breath. It need not be complex. The simple connection will change you, so that your true essence can come forth and be known by the world.

- Trust more in your intuition and instincts instead of relying only on your logic.

- Ethereal High Priestess

[beawrts]

UNCHARTED HEART

summary: it’s the dawn of a new day. new spells, new friends, same old you. what can you do when things don’t go to plan? there’s more in store at every turn, tumbling somewhere between reconnection and disconnection. good luck keeping up!

warnings: all characters aged up, ravenclaw!reader, fem!reader, slow burn, slight flirting

cover: @dvinaamesca

word count: 4,801

⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅

series masterlist

CHAPTER TWO: DISCOVERY IN TANDEM

the next morning was unquestionably tense. after the cryptic moments in the map champer, you’d resorted to your dorm and downed the sleeping potion poppy had gave you.

thankfully so, as you knew without it you would have had another sleepless night especially after what transpired last night. and boy, had it worked. a bit too well.

but perhaps if you had gone to bed at a reasonable time, instead of sneaking around the castle, you wouldn’t be late right now.

“shit, shit, shit!” you pull your skirt over your legs in a rush, securing it in place over your hips. quickly glancing over yourself in the mirror, you decide you don’t look too bad given the circumstances and grab your tie, blazer and toiletries.

brushing your teeth and hair aside, you made your way to your first lesson of the day. why did you have to be late for the class with the most unforgiving teacher?

could the ravenclaw common room be any further from everything else in the castle? you shrug on your blazer and loop your blue tie around your neck. if you were a better planner, you’d be carrying some floo powder and could’ve halved the time of your trip.

but alas, here you were stumbling over your own feet in the central hall. outside of the potions classroom, you fixed your tie and gave your uniform a brush down with your hands.

please give me special treatment for saving the school, you thought as you entered the classroom. as you entered, the room was pin-drop silent, quickly scanning the room for your professor… he wasn’t there?

from your station, garretg looked over at you with wide eyes and beckoned you over with his head. ‘quickly’, he was telling you.

you rush over, hoping your absence went unnoticed when professor sharp closes his office door and locks it, moving towards the front of the room by the blackboard.

with his back still turned, he calls out, “miss y/l/n, let’s hope as a ravenclaw you have not forgotten the wisdom of being on time.”, of course he noticed.

he doesn’t have to turn around to know you’ve nodded your head, there wasn’t a student that would dare to challenge him. and anyway, it was your fault.

and so he begins without a hitch, veritaserum was the subject of todays lesson.

“truth-telling serum, under it’s effect the drinker cannot tell a single lie.” chalk scrapes as he scribbles on the blackboard, “it is a clear and odourless potion, and takes a lunar cycle to brew, so we will be starting the preparations for it today and revisit it in under a months time when it is finished.”

he turns to face the class, the idle scratching of quill on parchment and distant tapping of tinctures and flasks. garreth raises his eyebrows at you in curiosity, you could ou fear what he planned to do with this potion.

you smile knowingly as the professor continues, “i suggest you read up on this potion as it will appear on your exams.” with a flick of his wand, the ingredients for each station are distributed through the air, “this is a difficult potion to make, and just three drops of the elixir is potent enough to coax the innermost secrets out of the drinker.”

students shoot looks to each other in interest, undoubtedly thinking of how they could use the veritaserum for their own gain. embarrass their friends, confess to their crush, the list is endless.

as though he could read their thoughts, he interrupts, “i strongly urge you against using this potion recreationally, however. whilst the utmost truth might sound appealing even the simplest of answers to what you might ask under its influence can ruin friendships, relationships, and get you into serious trouble.” he finishes with a stern look over the room.

you see sebastian across the room, his eyes are wary, and you get it. you know what this potion could do to him if he was given it. you give him a sympathetic smile, he averts his gaze quickly. fair enough, you suppose, you felt awkward too.

sharp demonstrates the process of preparing the potion at his station, and the students take notes. after he is done, everyone follows suit and prepares the ingredients at their own pace.

“so, y/n,” garreth starts, absentmindedly swirling his standard potioning water. you already don’t like his tone, “leander told me there was a certain hufflepuff asking for your name yesterday.”

your face drops - the student from the three broomsticks, he was talking about you.

without breaking your focus on your ingredients, a vial of ptolemy in hand, you reply disinterested with an eyebrow raised, “couldn’t ask me himself?”

you hear your friend snigger beside you, “okay! you’re hard to please.”

you pull out your golden timepiece from your robe pocket - a gift from professor fig, etched with ancient magic patterns. now you had ten minutes to wait.

“we haven’t even met.” you shrug, dropping a chunk of moonstone into your pestle and mortar.

anxiety bubbles. honestly, you had never been courted before, and the muggle world you were raised in was so different to the wizarding world you now called home.

thoughts of last night flash through your mind, how close you and sebastian had gotten. what would have happened if you had kissed? what would it have lead to? and perhaps it would have meant nothing at all. maybe that was worse.

mumbling pulled you from your thoughts, your wrist glided around the mortar. in your anxiety you’d grounded up your moonstone, and were now scraping the bowl with your pestle.

garreth holds your wrist to a stop, an uneasy smile on his face, “i didn’t mean to offend you.”

you both begin to stir the powdered moonstone into the mixture, shaking your head, you groan in embarrassment.

“no, garreth, you haven’t.”

he doesn’t add anything and watches his brew, stepping from toe to heel. 4 minutes left on your timepiece. you set down your ingredients.

“i’ve never- well, it’s new to me. i guess i’ll put it that way?” you clarify, “you didn’t offend me.”

garreth nods slowly, and a few moments pass, no words exchanged. you start to curse yourself for making the moment awkward, but he sets down his ladle and faces you.

“well, would you be interested?” he tilts his head with a big grin.

you’re stuck for a moment, not really sure what he’s implying. interested in the hufflepuff?

“in learning about courting.” he clarifies, his big smile distracting you.

you look like a deer in headlights.

“i honestly haven’t considered it.” you stumble, “i don’t know if i’d have the time.”

his ginger mop of hair shakes as he laughs, “don’t be silly. i can teach you everything you need to know about courting in hogwarts.” the usual sardonic tone returned to the boy.

you don’t believe him, and he can tell.

“i have plenty of brothers and sisters attending and attended hogwarts. i can assure you, you’re in good hands.” he smiles. ten minutes have passed.

honestly, you’re not sure if garreth weasley is the teacher you want in matters of romance.

“i hope you take a different approach than you do to potions.” you laugh, flabbergasted, it’s clear you’re not fully on board, but he seems sure enough of himself. you scoff and return to your mixture, the weasley beside you seeming happy with himself.

before long, you’re straining your mixtures into bottles, labelled with your names and slotting them into the potion holder for professor sharp to store until fully matured.

and a miracle happens, garreth weasley does not meddle with his potion.

you suppose it’s because this potion is of greater use to him as it is, rather than wasting his brew and blowing up his poor cauldron.

“we have timed the brewing of these potions so they will fully mature on the night of the full moon, where they will bask in the moonlight overnight, and then we can judge their potency.” he clasps his hands as he finishes.

samantha dale raises a hand from the station behind you, “excuse me sir, surely you don’t mean we’re drinking these?”

you see the corner of your professors lip tug upward, almost in a smirk at the inquisition. oh god, was he really going to make you drink them?

“perhaps we shall decide that after 28 days, if anyone is feeling brave. in the meantime, do not worry. there are other ways to test the potency. your homework assignment is 12 inches on the potion, without including the brewing process.” and the class is dismissed.

you’re lazily packing up your things as everyone filters out of the classroom, knowing you need to stay back anyway, when sebastian is approaching your station.

he had helped you beyond words with the map chamber. if he hadn’t been beside you, you don’t know if you’d have gone back at all. and now you were at least a little

further along in your journey, thanks to him.

you give him a small smile, hoping he can sense your gratitude. to your dismay, he scoffs and rolls his eyes, shoving past your station.

what on earth had you done to warrant such a reaction?

“miss y/l/n.” professor sharp beckons you over to where he is seated at his desk, wrenching you from your thoughts, “would you like to explain why you were late for my class?”

meeting him at the desk as the class empties, “truthfully professor, i have struggled to sleep as of late,” he glances up from an open book, “i took to a sleeping potion last night, and i’m afraid i took it later than perhaps needed. i apologise for my poor planning.” you finish, hoping it’ll be a good enough answer for him.

he continues his work, marking essays or homework you assume, “which potion?”

“i believe it was the potion for dreamless sleep, sir.”

his quill taps the oak desk beneath him a few times, “a good brew can grant you ten hours of sleep, and it’s effect usually takes place 15 minutes after ingested. to avoid mishaps in the future, i’d suggest taking it just before curfew.” he suggests, not looking up from the desk, “and don’t make a habit of being late to my class.”

you notice the scar on his cheek again, and what he’d told you of his past as an auror, before he began teaching at hogwarts.

“thank you, professor.”

a moment passes, he’s obviously expecting you to take your leave, but you try your luck.

“sir, if i may… i was doing some reading recently, and i learnt of a spell. i was hoping you might be able to tell me a bit more about it?” you’re apprehensive, reasonably so, professor sharp was not generous with his time without good reason.

sharp sets down his quill, an inconvenienced expression crosses him, yet he cocks an eyebrow.

“it’s a sensing spell. used to decipher what kind of magic could have been used on an object. to see if it had been enchanted, transfigured, that sort of thing.” you explain.

your fingers fiddle with each other in angst as you meet his stony stare, watching cogs turn in his head, considering the implication of imploring your curiosity.

“and you learnt of this spell, where exactly?” he asks.

“a book in the library. it was for a charms assignment, but i got carried away and learnt of it there, pertaining to the removal of charms casted by another witch or wizard.”

he muses over it for a second, and then nods, “i believe i know the one you refer to.”

he gets up from his desk with a struggle and moves to where you stand.

it seems he’s decided it’s harmless as he raises his wand, “i will teach it to you. merlin knows what will happen if mr weasley decides to explore a different medium than the one i teach.” it’s clear he’s doing you a favour by teaching this to you. he’s trusting you.

he stands straight, bringing his wand up parallel to his body. he explains that it is a spell without incantation, as it is the wand itself that does the work of deciphering the magic of the object.

it requires a clear mind, and a strong connection to the wand itself. he shows you the movement: from parallel, you aim the wand at the object, and return it to a parallel position, then moving the end of the wand to aim in each cardinal direction north to south, to east and then west.

you familiarise yourself with the movement with your wand a couple of times.

“you should feel your wand pulse or reverberate, and that is where your connection to the wand comes into play.” he explains.

“how will i know what kind of magic it is?” you ask, a bit confused at the vague magic.

he turns to you, his expression readless, “if you have performed it correctly, you will know.”

he returns to his seat at the desk and continues his work, nonplussed at your presence once again, you can’t help but marvel at your wand. magic truly was incredible, and it was hard to believe you had lived most of your life unknowing you could harness something so vast.

worry pricks at your insides, “what if my connection to my wand isn’t strong enough?”

you see his eyes communicate a sympathy to yours, so unsure of yourself, even now.

“believe me, you have nothing to worry about. go on, you have an assignment to complete.”

you nod in thanks and leave the classroom, you felt even closer now. to what exactly you weren’t sure, but it was movement from last night’s revelations, and you couldn’t be more over the moon.

during your free period, you opted for the bench by the old tree in the transfiguration courtyard to study by. deciding on just completing the recently assigned homework in an attempt to get it over with quicker. you had a textbook splayed out on the bench, recounting the potion you’d just learned.

you scrawled out your ideas quickly; delving into the ingredients. where they were harvested, what they related to within the potion, when the potion was made and how it was made popular within the ministry.

interrupted from your scribbling, a small tabby cat meows by your feet, calling to your attention as it rubs itself on your ankles.

“hello, you.” you smile, tickling it’s cheek as it leans into your palm, tracing its ears with your fingers.

“good morning.” someone answers you. looking up you find the voice belonged to the name everyone was repeating to you as of late.

“been standing there a while?” you ask, casually, redirecting your focus to the cat purring at your legs.

the hufflepuff pushes off the tree he was leaning on, “just a few moments, i’m afraid you’ve stolen the attention of my dear friend plutarch there.” a finger points at the cat in front of you.

these cats have names? you pat the bench besides you, plutarch hopping up to lay beside you.

“he seems to like me better, i’m afraid.”

the feline rolls over on the bench, bypassing your attempt at homework by stretching its paws on your parchment.

“i see that.” he says through a wide smile, “i don’t believe we’ve met?” he takes a seat on the bench beside you, “i’m theodore.”

he holds his hand out for you to shake, you look from his hand to his face.

you didn’t know what he wanted with you, and you didn’t want to be rude—so you take his hand in yours and shake it, quickly returning to the small tabby.

“y/n.” you reply, “i’m sure you’ve been told that already, however.”

theodore doesn’t seem perturbed by your blunt attitude towards him, instead he smiles at you, watching you interact with the cat with genuine interest.

“yes, i have been told.”

you couldn’t seem less interested in meeting him, yet he continued to converse with you.

“anything else you’ve been told?”

he leans back on the bench on his palms, “you’re an incredible duellist.”

“and that’s coming from who?” you’re a bit curious now, perhaps. you’d bested leander in summoner’s court a few times, and he’d been very reluctant to sing your praises regarding your win.

“from everyone.” he admits. you turn to look at him, puzzled, “crossed wands. there were talks that the season was starting up again this year and your name has been in many conversations since.” he says, simply.

you sit up, letting the tabby jump down to chase a few leaves falling from the tree.

“is this your way of challenging me to a duel? or just distracting me from my homework?” you give him a joking look, and he seems thrilled, another wide grin pressing against his eyes.

“i don’t know if i’d want to duel you, the reining champion, per se,” he chuckles, “but i would like to get to know you better.”

he looks at you, and there’s a certain intensity to his blue eyes that makes you nervous. he looked older than the students in your year. you noticed as he was stood by the tree, he had a tall stature. even as he sat next to you on the bench his head seemed miles above yours. he had smaller eyes, high cheekbones, shorter hair at the sides that curled in their longer strands at the top.

in the three broomsticks, he hadn’t worn any glasses, but now he had a round pair sat on his nose, a longer nose that was slightly wider at the tip.

“as friends.” he bends slightly to meet your lowered gaze, soothing your nerves, a calming look on his face.

you breathe out, relaxing more as he takes the edge off, “friends.” you smile.

he holds his hand out to you, again, “friends.” he smiles, “maybe i will take that duel, however. you could teach me a few things.”

you laugh, shaking his hand, “you fancy your chances?”

“not at all.” he laughs with you, “but i’d like to see what you’re made of.”

you raise your eyebrows.

“everyone else has a lot to say about your talents.” he shrugs, “i want to know for myself.”

there’s a teasing tone to his voice, you can sense there’s a little more to it, but you choose to ignore it.

“i haven’t been at hogwarts for the past year, so now that i’m back, i’m trying to get involved a bit more in some other endeavours.” he explains. you furrow your eyebrows, wondering what he means, “i went to durmstrang for a year.”

“really? what for?” you tilt your head in interest.

“i went there for a quidditch placement, in my fifth year i had my careers meeting and made it very clear i was interested in become a professional quidditch player.” he starts.

you can fill in the rest, “and it was cancelled last year, so you went to durmstrang for a placement there.” you finish.

he smiles, “indeed. but now it’s a new year at hogwarts.”

you chat a bit about upcoming tryouts, finding out he’s always been a seeker, preferring not to be confined to the pitch. but captains were traditionally assigned to beaters or chasers, and being hufflepuff’s quidditch captain for the year would look great for his chances when he tried out for a professional team.

“i think you should play the position you like the best. if you’re really that good,” you joke, stuffing your parchments into the bag you’d placed by your feet, “you’ll get into a team easily. better than playing a position you’re not comfortable and risking your passion for the sport.”

his finger taps his full lips, nodding slowly, “that’s pretty sound advice.”

you stand up, “thank you. you owe me a race now.”

he calls out after you as you’re approaching the stairs, “fancy your chances?”

at the doors you look back, and see plutarch back on the bench, turning over by his thigh.

“guess we’ll find out.” you leave through the doors.

✦

the rest of the day went as it usually did. you had care of magical creatures after your free period, where you’d told poppy of your meeting with theodore.

she had gotten very excited before you clarified you’d just made friends. she didn’t seem to believe you fully, but it didn’t matter. you were friends.

defence against the dark arts as your last lesson before lunch was a tad awkward. you would usually be sat near sebastian, as you were often paired together since your first duel since you’d joined the school, even in your distance throughout the year. yet today, he’d opted to sit by ominis near the back of the class.

you didn’t question why it was awkward between the two of you, you didn’t want to face it either. but you were failing to notice the big deal? nothing had really happened.

or maybe it wasn’t a big deal, which worried you more, for some reason.

after lunch, you had herbology, where you were stationed opposite ominis himself.

‘the friends you make here in hogwarts will last a lifetime,’ said professor garlick, when you’d spoken to her previously, yet you couldn’t feel farther from the fact.

you were now in her lesson, learning about sopophorous plants, an ingredient of which you’d just used in your veritaserum brew in potions class. they must exchange lesson plans.

it’s juice would remove the drinker’s memory, “there’s definitely a few things i’d like to forget.” ominis remarks to himself, almost like he’d read your agreeing mind.

“indeed. i might steal some for the common room after hector fawley lost us thirty points by using a felix felicis in professor onai’s mid-term exam.” you reply, pushing the beans of the plant deep into the soil, you feel the mud sink through your fingertips.

“to be perfectly fair, she probably saw it coming.” he replies, making you laugh quite loud.

ominis likes herbology, he can feel the living plant in his hands, the different textures of the leaves. he didn’t really need it for a career, considering his family name he probably didn’t need most of his subjects, rather. but he looked forward to the lessons, and that was enough.

the greenhouses tended to have a stuffy quality, especially in the early summer evening. you’re rolling up your tight sleeves to the elbow as professor garlick is making rounds about the room and correcting students on how to tend to the plant.

“the beans of the sopophorous plant are a very versatile tool and must be handled with care!” she calls out in her melodic tone, “in order to properly extract the juice, a careful touch is all you need!”

she demonstrates at the front of the class, masterfully pressing the bulb lightly, where it makes a light cracking sound. you watch the juice trickle into the vial she has ready.

“the liquid is very potent, and each sopophorous bean when properly pressed will only fill to about a third of your standard vial.”

her passion for the subject is infectious, you often find yourself smiling during herbology, feeling her care for the living organisms through her well thought out lectures.

ominis is rolling the bean between his fingers, in hesitation.

“may i?” you meet him at his side and he nods.

your hand shadows his as you position your fingers over his on the bulb. in concentration, his eyebrows furrow, feeling your fingertips press over his. you mumble a ‘just lightly’, pressing softly. the bulb cracks, his eyes raising in surprise. you smile, removing your hand as he holds the vial under the bulb, feeling the nectar drip into the vial.

“thank you.” he smiles simply. you return to your station.

the class soon comes to a close.

“y/n,” ominis calls out to you, matching your steps on your path to transfiguration. from his robe pocket he sneakily reveals a small vial.

you pull out your own and clink it with his, laughing. you fall into a natural and light conversation on the way to your lesson, it eases some of the tension between you. he’d become rather funny over the holidays, you always remembered him being quite wound-tight in your previous year.

“i have to say i love this colour on you, ominis. you look as though you’re enjoying yourself much more, this year.”

he has a look of knowing on him.

“i’m inclined to agree with you, no doubt the result of much less scheming to deal with.” he jipes with a grin.

“only the few, then?” you retort.

“you know what he’s like.” he replies, and your heart thumps, sebastian had slipped your mind. you wonder if he’d told ominis what had nearly happened between you both.

“is he well?” you feign distraction, truthfully, you did care for the answer. your mind was reeling. you wondered if his was too.

“i believe so.” ominis seems none the wiser, so you swallow your brimming curiosity and move onto discussing books and works you’d read over the summer.

you retreat to the great hall for dinner, mentally recalling the spell you’d learnt from professor sharp.

✦

the great hall seems bursting with energy as you sit down for dinner, lots of excited students are chattering about various things.

the upcoming quidditch try-outs, the crossed wands tournament starting up again, festivals and fairs planned for the summer in hogsmeade.

this had to be one of your favourite times in the year, being a student at hogwarts. there was so much possibility. it was always easier to be optimistic in the summer time.

you’re in a rush to finish eating, to retreat to the undercroft and try out your new spell. you’re barely finishing a meat pie before you’re skipping off to the defence against the dark arts tower for the second day in a row.

the clocks tick and teeter to their renowned position and the door pops open.

you’re in front of the portrait. you can barely hear the soft crackling of torches over your bubbling mind.

but you needed a clear mind. yet you couldn’t help yourself but to revisit the evening prior in your thoughts.

how he’d stood exactly where you were now, the way he’d gotten so close to you. he’d looked at you with such feeling. his eyes closing softly, leaning into you. his breath on your lips.

in less than a day, you’d had more thoughts of sebastian sallow than you had the entire time you’d known him.

wrestling with your thoughts, you manage a shaky breath, attempting to focus at the task at hand. this spell could give you direction and answers, which you desperately needed. facing the brown frame, you focus.

bringing your wand parallel, you perform the spell as you remembered, to the best of your ability.

moment pass, staring at the broken portrait.

and nothing happens.

your breath starts to quicken, in your stomach panic starts to rise, you needed this to work. otherwise you’d be in the same position you were in before, after everything that had happened lately, you couldn’t afford to lose the measly hope you’d mustered so far.

previous chapter next chapter

⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅

playlist:

natural habitat - 070 shake

i can see the future - tinashe

i wish you roses - kali uchis

beige - terrace martin

altar - kehlani

⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅

b/n: the edit for this chapter is up! i prefer it better now. still not my favourite, but got some good ideas to write out in the upcoming chapters. feedback is always appreciated <3 chapter three should be edited and formatted for me to post tomorrow. happy reading, peace!

also: theodore is based off a celebrity, can you tell who it is?

[the-clumsywitch]

Witchy Ebook Wednesdays

This week I added multiple books because there was a book that I was going to share that went up majorly in price. I didn't want that to happen again, hence all the books! Also the last books are a series that is why they are all by the same author.

Natural Magic: Spells, Enchantments and Personal Growth by Pamela Ball - $1.99

The Encyclopedia of Crystals, New Edition by Judy Hall - $3.99

The Little Book of Practical Magic (The Little Book of Magic) by Sarah Bartlett - $0.99

The Little Book of Moon Magic: Working with the power of the lunar cycles (The Little Book of Magic) by Sarah Bartlett - $1.99

The Little Book of Earth Magic by Sarah Bartlett - $2.99

The Little Book of Crystal Magic: Harnessing the Sacred Power of Crystals by Sarah Bartlett - $1.99

The Little Book of Love Magic: Spells, enchantments and rituals to honour love in all its forms by Sarah Bartlett - $3.99

Hope you find something on the list you like 💖

- Erika, The Clumsy Witch

[ms-m-astrologer]

Transiting Sun enters Aries

Wednesday, March 20 - Friday, April 19, 2024

Aries the Ram*:

• Fire (identity - enthusiastic, energetic, creative, passionate, assertive, freedom-living)

• Yang (levity - outgoing, expressive, logical, left-brained)

• Cardinal (initiating action - generating, acting, directing)

• Personal (focused on personal wants and needs)

• "I am"

• Ruler - Mars; exalted - Sun

• Color: fire engine red, true red (neither warm nor cool)

(* Gleaned almost completely from the book Astrology for Yourself by Bloch and George; the color is my own theory/belief.)

This looks to be a time of many potential new beginnings. Some of us may be overwhelmed by possibilities; we could benefit from some “alone time” to hash things out for ourselves. Independence, creativity, and courage are the bywords.

Give a day or two on either side of the following aspect dates:

Thursday, March 21 - Sun/Aries sextile Pluto/Aquarius, 1°41’. Individualism is the goal. We want to break away from being a sheep in the flock, and we have some good ideas about how to do that.

Monday, March 25 - Full Moon/Lunar Eclipse, 5°07’ Libra. Look at the house in your birth chart which holds 5°07’ Libra - there are some issues to resolve around dependency, “going along to get along,” vanity, manipulation, shallowness, all the Libra pitfalls.

Thursday, March 28 - Sun/Aries trine Pallas Athene/Sagittarius, 8°35’. Can be very political. We have a lot of self-confidence, creativity, and optimism. Direct it well, and don’t fall into arrogance. We’ve all heard of “sore losers” - work on not being a “sore winner.”

Thursday, April 4 - Sun/Aries conjunct North Node/Aries, opposite South Node/Libra, 15°50’. Feeling like we’re on the right track, in harmony with The Cosmos. We’re in charge of our own lives.

Saturday, April 6 - Sun/Aries square Ceres/Capricorn, 17°26’. Family trouble. Conflict between doing our own thing versus what our kinfolk expect of us. We need a positive sense of self-worth.

Monday, April 8:

New Moon/Solar Eclipse, 19°24’ Aries

Sun/Aries conjunct Chiron/Aries, 19°24’

An eclipse that’s exactly conjunct Chiron. Hoo boy. Something new coming into our lives, involving teaching and healing the self. This eclipse is part of Saros Series 8 North, which bring brilliant intuitive flashes but also pull us away from what’s currently going on.

Thursday, April 11 - Sun/Aries conjunct Mercury Rx/Aries, 22°32’. Their “inferior conjunction” is the sort of “reset button” in Sun-Mercury cycles. Something may happen where we don’t have time to think; conversely, we could find ourselves needing to think carefully through some problem.

Sunday, April 14 - Sun/Aries conjunct Eris/Aries, 24°48’. A big boost of courage and standing up for what’s right. Focus more on being a protector, to avoid mishandling or overdoing situations.

[randomtable]

Random Calendar Builder: Starting With Weeks

This is part three of a series on calendars! See this master post for more calendar content: https://www.tumblr.com/randomtable/713543620842700800/random-calendar-series-masterpost?source=share

A different approach to building a calendar with randomization: starting with the smaller units and building up.

1d12 Week Structures

1. A 6 day week, with no set “weekend” - different days off are taken by different people. 2. A 5 day week, with a single weekend day of rest. 3. A 10 day week, with two concurrent weekend days of rest 4. A 4 day week, with no set “weekend” - different days off are taken by different people.   5. A 6 day week, with days of rest on the third and sixth days. 6. An 8 day week, with two concurrent weekend days of rest 7. A 7 day week, with two concurrent weekend days of rest 8. A 9 day week, with days of rest on the third, sixth, and ninth days. 9. A 10 day week, with three concurrent weekend days of rest. 10. An 8 day week, with three concurrent weekend days of rest. 11. A 6 day week, with two concurrent weekend days of rest. 12. A 7 day week, with two concurrent weekend days of rest and a day of rest on the third day.

1d4 Naming Conventions for Days of the Week:

1. Days of the week are referred to by numerical names (ie “firstday” or an equivalent in one of your worlds languages). One day has an exception; what’s special about it? 2. Days of the week are named for gods or other religious figures. What kinds of prayers or rituals are devoted to them on their days? 3. Days of the week are named by duties, chores, or cultural practices that are expected to be done on that day. Are these widely followed, or viewed as something “no one does anymore”? 4. Days of the week are named for planets and/or other celestial bodies (or, for lunar calendars, they might be related to phases of the moon instead). What religious, cultural, scientific or magical associations do these planets have?

For the Rest of the Calendar (1d4)

1. A lunar calendar. Each month is divided into four weeks, based on the full moon, new moon, and waxing and waning half moons. There are 5d4 months in the year. 2. A solar calendar. There are 9d10 weeks in a year, and 5d4 months.* 3. A lunar calendar, based on multiple moons. The moon with the shortest lunar cycle is used for the weeks, while a moon with a longer lunar cycle is used for the months. There are 9d10 weeks in a year, and 5d4 months in a year.* 4. A lunisolar calendar. Each month is divided into four weeks, based on the full moon, new moon, and waxing and waning half moons. There are 5d4 months in the year, but every 2d4+1 years there is an extra month in the year, which helps keep the months aligned to the seasons.

*The number of months may not divide evenly into the year with these results. To resolve this, multiply the number of weeks by the number of days in one week. This is how many days are in the year. Divide the number of days in the year by the number of months in the year, to get the number of days in the month. If this number is whole, great! If not, take just the decimal of the result and multiply it by the number of months in the year to find the number of extra days. You can distribute these days to either make some months longer than others, or insert extra days between months that are observed as holidays.

This post is already pretty long, so if you want to build your calendar further, check out my posts on randomly generated solar and lunar calendars.