#andromeda flow

[knairda]

Working on a little 3D platformer with @senaminbun and some other friends... hopefully more to show soon 💛

[darlingdaisyfarm]

What do u think dad!Ford would be like? 🥹

☆彡 Ford Pines as a dad :)

★ his past haunts him. Ford is hyper-aware of his own mistakes and he’s terrified of repeating them. if he gets snappy or distant, he always circles back to apologise to his kid. “i didn’t mean to upset you. im still learning how to be better at this.”

★ academic expectations aren’t a thing for him. Ford understands the pressure of being “the smart one” better than anyone, so he refuses to let his kid feel the same weight. they could be an artist, a gardener, or a professional bubble blower, he’ll support them 100%

★ awkward, deeply earnest. he’s the dad who gives his kid a PowerPoint presentation on how much he loves them or offers comfort by saying things like: “i believe your emotional pain is valid and deserves acknowledgment.” but he’ll also stay up all night building a model of the andromeda galaxy for their science fair because he wants them to feel supported

★ he loves teaching them. not in a pushy way, but because it brings him joy to share what he knows

★ he's willing to explain the same thing 20 times if they don’t understand it or sit through the same annoying kids’ movie on repeat because it makes them happy

★ paranoid protector. if you think Stan is overprotective, Ford is worse. he teaches his kid how to build a Faraday cage just in case someone tries to control their brainwaves

★ PROUD NERD DAD. he’s that parent. the one who builds overly complicated science projects for the school fair or accidentally intimidates the teacher by asking if the curriculum includes quantum mechanics

★ Ford has seen things. he’s fought interdimensional monsters and battled with Bill Cipher, so yeah, he’s terrified of his kid getting hurt.

“you can’t go to that sleepover. what if it’s a trap set by extradimensional entities?!”

“dad, it’s just Timmy’s house.”

“just Timmy’s house, you say? that’s exactly what Bill would want me to think!”

★ he gives his kid tracking devices disguised as bracelets and builds a mini forcefield generator for their room. It’s a lot, but it all boils down to one thing: he’s terrified of losing them, like he almost lost Stan

★ notes on the fridge with text “out of milk. also, don’t touch the glowing rock in the lab, it might be sentient.”

★ Ford doesn’t always know how to express affection, but he’s so proud of his kid. hes the guy clapping too loud at the school play, or awkwardly trying to high-six after a good report card

★ i have a feeling he'll insist on preparing the kid for every possible situation, from wilderness survival to escaping an alternate dimension. he turns a simple camping trip into an intense survivalist training session.

“so you see this? this is how you create a makeshift compass using only a magnet and some swamp water. now, repeat it back to me.”

“Dad, can we just roast marshmallows?”

★ Ford knows he’s made some very questionable choices in life. and he’s determined to steer his kid away from making the same mistakes. but he also knows that life isn’t meant to be lived in fear. so he tries to let his kid explore and make their own mistakes, even if it kills him to watch

★ he does these impressions of weird creatures he’s studied to make the kid laugh or making up ridiculous bedtime stories about interdimensional adventures

★ being genuinely interested in whatever the kid loves. they mention liking stars? he’s pulling out telescopes and teaching them how to navigate by constellations. they doodle in a notebook? he’s buying them every art supply and researching the history of visual storytelling

★ if the kid needs help with a project, he’ll spend hours (or days) going overboard. you’ll find him at 2 AM in his study, hunched over a model volcano, muttering about optimizing the lava flow

★ casually mentions his interdimensional adventures at dinner and the kid eats it up because, let’s face it, having a dad who’s basically Indiana Jones with extra trauma is awesome

★ he’s terrified of being a bad father, of not being enough, and that fear can make him distant at times. he overthinks every decision, convinced he’s going to mess it all up. what if he's too much like his father? what if he pushes his kid too hard? but the thing is, he cares, so much. and his kid knows it, even if Ford’s love is sometimes wrapped up in layers of self-doubt and fear

★ if anyone messes with his kid oh, they’re done. Ford may be a nerd, but he’s also a six-fingered genius who’s survived the multiverse. he’ll calmly dismantle anyone who threatens his family

★ Ford's bedtime stories start off like normal fairy tales, but somehow they end as “and so, the starfish rebuilt its missing limb, but it always remembered the one it lost. and it knew that even though it was whole again, some things leave scars you never see.” you’re sobbing. the kid’s sobbing. Ford’s eyes are suspiciously glassy as he kisses them on the forehead and mutters something about needing to adjust the humidity in the room.

★ bonus point if he’s reading his kid a bedtime story, he gets way too into it, doing all the voices and even sketching out illustrations

★ Ford may not be that emotional as his brother, except when it comes to his kid. their first stick-figure drawing? framed in his study. their macaroni art project? encased in glass because he’s convinced it’s a modern masterpiece

★ i think Ford is usually the patient parent. but one day, after hours of hearing “why can’t I do this? why am I not good enough?” from his kid, he loses it.

“you think you’re not good enough? do you know what I see when I look at you? i see someone braver than I ever was, smarter than I’ll ever be and kinder than this world deserves. you are my child, my greatest achievement and if I hear you doubt yourself again, so help me, I’ll—” and then he has to stop because both of them are crying and hugging

★ he insists on teaching the kid “important life skills,” but half the time it’s just him geeking out while the kid watches in awe/confusion “okay now, if you ever find yourself trapped in an alternate dimension, here’s how you build a rudimentary portal using only a toaster and three rubber bands.”

“. . . can you teach me how to ride a bike instead?”

“right. yes. of course. bikes.”

★ and he never stops learning. about his kid, about himself, about what it means to be a father. it’s not always easy, but Ford is nothing if not resilient

★ Ford’s idea of a trip is hiking through the woods with a map and an emergency beacon, dragging his kid along while pointing out flora and fauna. “see this plant? highly toxic. don’t touch it.”

★ his passion for research often pulls him away, but he doesn’t want to miss a thing. over time, he learns to put boundaries in place, to walk away from the lab when it’s time for dinner or to prioritize their soccer game over his latest discovery

[noisynaia]

𝑨 𝑯𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒆

pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader 

word count: 3.0k 

note: Fluff. Drinking. Colleagues to lovers. Mutual pining. Written for the lovely @pedrostories Secret Santa event ♥︎ My gift is for @always-andromeda , I hope you like it! It was so lovely to get to write for this blog again, and so exciting to share my first fic in a year and my first ever Marcus story! Thank you so much for the prompts, I tried to mix them both together, but it ended up dividing a bit from that first plan and turn into something else ♥︎

(This is the first fic I've written in a year and english isn't my native language, so I apoligies for any possible mistakes ♥︎)

The air hangs thick with the scent of pine needles and something suspiciously like cheap eggnog. The office is decked out in holiday cheer. Tinsel glints off the overly-enthusiastic Christmas decorations strung across the office, a jarring contrast to the usually austere environment. Twinkling lights are adorning the walls, and a massive tree stands proudly in the corner, its ornaments shimmering softly under the warm glow. Laughter fills the air as colleagues mingle, while festive music is playing in the background. It is the annual holiday party at the precinct, and the atmosphere is filled with a sense of camaraderie and celebration. 

You are standing near the refreshment table, a glass of spiced wine in your hand, watching the cheerful chaos unfold before you. Your gaze drifts across the room, landing on Marcus, who is in the midst of animatedly chatting with a group of detectives, his smile infectious, and his laughter like music to your ears. You have harbored a crush on him since the day he started at the precinct, and tonight, with him looking so dashing under the twinkling lights, that crush feels more potent than ever. 

Just as you’re lost in your daydream of Marcus’s charming smile, the sound of a familiar voice cuts through the festive din. It’s Harold, the department’s oldest and most verbose agent, and he’s making a beeline for you. “Ah, there you are! I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the new policies coming in next year,” he begins, his voice booming over the festive music. His passion for regulations is palpable, and his eyes light up as he launches into a detailed explanation of compliance protocols, the words spilling out like a torrent as you nod politely.

You try to interject, to steer the conversation towards lighter topics, but Harold is in full flow, oblivious to your subtle attempts at diversion. He recounts every last detail, his hands animatedly gesturing, as you mentally calculate the number of holiday cookies you could have consumed instead of standing here. You definitely need another drink to endure this conversation. Preferably something stronger.

As Harold continues his monologue, you glance over at Marcus again, still engrossed in his chat with the detectives, the laughter radiating from their group like a beacon. A small pang of envy hits you; how easy it seems for him to connect with others, while you’re trapped in this policy discussion. But just then his head turns and your eyes lock across the room.   

Time seems to slow as you feel the warmth of his gaze wash over you, momentarily breaking through the haze of Harold’s relentless chatter. Marcus’s smile broadens, a genuine connection sparking between you like the twinkling lights around the room. He raises his glass in a playful toast, and for a heartbeat, it feels as if the chaotic buzz of the party fades away, leaving only the two of you in that shared moment. 

You lift your own glass in response, the spiced wine glinting in the soft light as you return his toast. The world around you blurs as you focus solely on Marcus, your heart racing with excitement and a hint of nervousness. His gaze is warm and inviting, making you feel as though you’re the only one in the room. 

You smile back at him, but not as broad as his. He seems to notice, raising a brow in a silent question. Just then, Harold’s voice breaks through the enchantment, his monologue picking up speed as he transitions to the next policy. You catch snippets about “streamlining processes” and “regulatory compliance,” but your thoughts are elsewhere. You can’t help but steal another glance at Marcus, who is still looking your way, seemingly unbothered by the raucous laughter surrounding him. 

You let out a little sigh, which Harold doesn’t seem to even register, as you try to focus enough on the conversation to hum along at the right times and ad and “oh, really,” at the appropriate time. But you can’t help but look over in the direction of Marcus again. You heal how your heart softly flutters in your chest as you watch him make his way through the crowd in your direction. 

“Hey there!” Marcus calls out, his voice cutting through the festive noise with a warmth that sends a thrill through you. He stops just in front of you, his gaze shifting from you to Harold and then back to you. a gentle smile lingering on his face.

“Hey,” you say back, your voice a mix of surprise and excitement, momentarily forgetting all about Harold’s policy monologue. You’re suddenly aware of how the spiced wine feels warm in your hand, and how the alcohol is warming you up from the inside. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Marcus asks, his tone light and polite as he glances at Harold, who immediately seems to deflate under the charming weight of Marcus’s presence.

“Oh, not at all!” Harold replies. “Just discussing the new compliance protocols for next year. Absolutely riveting stuff, I assure you.” 

“Oh, I can imagine. You must tell me about them after the holidays,” Marcus says, his smile is easy, and the way he leans casually against the table makes your heart skip a beat as he turns to you again. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you all night. I need to ask you about something for the report on the Sollery case.”

You can’t help but smile. There is no Sollery case, but you’re not about to correct him. Instead you play along, immensely grateful for Marcus’ graceful way of saving you from Harold’s relentless monologue. “Of course,” you reply, your heart racing as you revel in the attention. The warmth of the spiced wine seems to spread throughout your body, mingling with the butterflies flitting around in your stomach.

You say a polite goodbye to Harold before he can dive back into another detailed explanation of compliance, the relief washing over you as you follow Marcus to a quieter corner in the other end of the room. The festive music swells around you, but it feels like a distant hum compared to the electricity crackling between you and Marcus.

“So, what do you need to know about the ‘Sollery case’?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your voice, eager to maintain the playful banter. 

He chuckles softly, his brown eyes shining as he looks at you, a slight flush is dusting his cheeks, from the alcohol you assume. He looks adorable. 

“You looked like you needed a rescue,” he replies, his voice low and conspiratorial, “and I just couldn’t let you endure another second of Harold’s riveting lecture on compliance protocols. I mean, I love the guy, but sometimes it feels like listening to paint dry.”

You let out a genuine laugh, the sound buoyed by the atmosphere around you. “You have no idea how grateful I am. I was convinced I’d have to start counting the decorations on the tree just to stay awake.”

Marcus grins, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Well, I’m glad I could save you. I can’t let our brightest agent fall asleep at the Christmas party. That would be a tragedy.” 

He nudges you playfully with his elbow, and you feel your heart race at the light touch.

“And uhm, speaking of saving,” he continues, his expression turning slightly more serious but still warm, the flush on his cheeks  darkening just the slightest. “I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my place after this? I have a bottle of whiskey that I think we could both use after the year we’ve had.”

Your breath catches for a moment, the invitation hanging in the air between you like the lighted ornaments strung above your heads. “Whiskey?” you ask, feigning nonchalance while your heart races with excitement. “What kind?”

“Only the best,” he replies, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I promise it’s not eggnog.”

You laugh, feeling the tension ease slightly. There’s something about the way he looks at you, something that makes you feel seen in a way that you haven’t before. “Well, I do like whiskey,” you say, your voice teasing. 

“Great,” he says, his smile broadening, and you can’t help but feel a swell of happiness at his invitation. This is more than just a drink; it feels like a chance to finally connect with him outside of work, away from the watchful eyes of colleagues.

You take a sip of your spiced wine, trying to calm the excitement bubbling within you. You stay at the party for a bit, chatting and laughing with your colleagues together with Marcus, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a cozy blanket. After about an hour Marcus leans in a little. “Ready to get out of here?” 

You nod eagerly, a smile spreading across your face at the thought of leaving the crowded FBI office behind. “Absolutely,” you reply, your voice light with anticipation. The idea of spending time alone with Marcus makes your heart flutter, and you feel a rush of excitement as you both make your way towards the exit.

The cold december air hits you as you step outside, a stark contrast to the warmth of the office, but it’s refreshing. Marcus walks beside you, his presence comforting as you both navigate the snow-dusted sidewalk. The streetlights shimmer against the night sky. You make light conversation as you walk towards the metro station. 

The city is alive with holiday lights, casting a warm glow over the streets. You can’t help but steal glances at Marcus as you walk next to him, the way he moves with a casual confidence, his laughter still echoing in your ears. The anticipation of what the night holds has your heart racing, a mix of nerves and excitement simmering just beneath the surface.

As you approach the metro station, the atmosphere shifts slightly. The previous bustle of the office party has now faded  completely into the background of your mind, and the intimate setting with just you and Marcus now feels charged with a new energy. You both descend the steps to the platform, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the concrete walls.

“So,” Marcus begins, his tone light, “how are you spending your holiday season this year?”

You chuckle, leaning against the cool metal railing. “Alone,” you admit with a playful shrug, trying to keep the mood light. “Just me, some takeout, and a few too many holiday movies. It’s gonna be casual.”

Marcus raises an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief mixed with amusement playing on his lips. “Alone? What about family or friends?”

“I mean, I have family, but they’re several states away, and I’d rather not deal with the holiday chaos,” you reply, a hint of defensiveness slipping into your tone. “Plus, my couch and a good movie sound pretty appealing right now.”

“Fair enough,” he says, his expression softening. “I’m spending Christmas alone too this year—just me and a stack of books I’ve been meaning to tackle.” He chuckles, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “I guess we’re both in the same boat, huh?”

“You’re not going back to Texas over the break?”

“Nah, I decided to stay here this year. I love my family, and it would be nice to see them, but a lot happened back home before I transferred. Kind of left there heartbroken and I’m not sure I’m ready to go back just yet, even though I’m mostly over it,” he replies, glancing at you with a slightly embarrassed smile.

You nod in understanding, the weight of his words resonating with you. You open your mouth, you want to say something, even though you’re not even sure about what to say, but then the train arrives with a rush of wind and a clatter of metal on metal. You both step back, momentarily distracted by its arrival. As it slows to a halt, the doors slide open.

Marcus gestures for you to enter first, and you can’t help but notice the way he stands just a little closer than necessary, the warmth of his body radiating towards you. You step into the metro car and find a place to settle in, the metallic seats cool against your skin. Marcus sits beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a thrill of excitement through you.

As the train starts moving, the rhythmic clattering of the tracks fills the silence, and you glance sideways at Marcus. He’s looking out the window, the lights reflecting in his eyes, and for a moment, you just take him in. There’s something undeniably comforting about being with him, an ease that feels almost electric.

“Is it your first time spending Christmas alone?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence, your voice soft. “It’s my first time, my first time spending the whole holiday alone…  I’m starting to worry it might be a bit lonely.”

He turns his gaze back to you, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it is my first time, but it’s just a few days, right? I think it might be good though, to have some time to regroup. Plus,” he adds with a smirk, “I can’t wait to binge-watch whatever I want, I haven’t had time to watch a show in ages.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up easily. “True! That’s a definite perk.”

“And, you know, if I’m lucky, I might even get to finish that book series I’ve been meaning to read,” he says, an excited, almost boyish, glint in his eyes.

“What series?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“It’s a fantasy series,” he replies, his enthusiasm infectious. “It’s about dragons and magic and all that good stuff. I know it sounds really nerdy, but it’s amazing!”

You can’t help but let out a little chuckle, hiding your mouth behind your glove covered hand. He really doesn’t have any idea about how adorable he is, and it warms your heart. “Of course, you’re a fantasy nerd,” you giggle, shaking your head gently.  

 Marcus feigns offense, his eyes widening in mock indignation. “I’ll have you know that fantasy is a very legitimate genre! It’s all about world-building, character development, and epic battles. Plus, who wouldn’t want to ride a dragon?” He leans in closer, a playful glint in his eyes, and you can’t help but lean in too, drawn by his enthusiasm.

“Okay, okay, you make a compelling argument,” you concede, laughter still dancing in your voice.

“Seriously, you should give it a try. I think you will like it actually.”

“I might just take you up on that,” you say, your heart racing with the idea of sharing something with him. “Maybe I’ll start it over the holidays,” you reply, smiling at him. “I could use some good escapism.”

He smiLes at you, but you don’t get to talk more about it. The train begins to slow as it approaches your stop, and Marcus shifts slightly, his arm brushing against yours again. You feel a warmth spreading through you, a sense of closeness that makes your heart flutter.

As the doors slide open, you both step out into the crisp night air. The walk to his place is short but filled with light-hearted banter and laughter.

Finally, you reach his townhouse. Unlocking the door, Marcus leads you inside, turning on the light of the hallway as he closes the door behind you. He takes your coat hanging it on the coat hanger while you take off your boots before showing you to the living room. The cozy setting, filled with soft light and comfy looking furniture, feels welcoming and familiar.

Marcus moves to the kitchen, and you take a moment to look around. The walls are lined with shelves filled with books, and a few framed pictures catch your eye—some of him with friends, others of family, and one of him as a kid with a goofy grin on his face.

“Make yourself at home,” he calls out from the other room, you can hear the clink of glasses.

You settle onto the plush couch, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you as you sink into the cushions. The warmth of the room envelops you, and you can’t help but smile softly as you take it all in. 

Moments later, he reappears with two glasses in hand, a bottle of whiskey perched under his arm. “I hope you like it neat,” he says, pouring a generous amount into each glass and handing one to you. “Cheers to a surprisingly delightful holiday evening.”

You clink your glass against his, the sound ringing with a sense of promise. “Cheers,” you echo, taking a sip. The rich, smooth flavor warms you from the inside out, and you savor the moment. “Thank you for having me, and thank you for saving me from Harold earlier.” 

Marcus chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. “Anytime. I’d take a night with you over compliance protocols any day,” he replies, leaning back against the couch, his glass resting comfortably in his hand.

“Ditto,” you smile in response. You watch him, the way his eyes light up when he talks, how he seems to genuinely enjoy your company. The atmosphere is relaxed, filled with the soft hum of distant holiday music coming from his speakers. The tension you felt earlier at the party has melted away, replaced by a sense of ease that envelops you both.

“You know…” Marcus’ expression changes as he leans forward to put his glass down on the coffee table. “I was thinking… Since you are spending the holiday alone, and I’m spending it alone, and you said you were scared that it might get lonely…” He takes a deep breath before continuing and you feel your heart fluttering in your chest as you realize where this is going. “Maybe... we could make it a little less lonely together?” His voice is soft yet hopeful, and you can see the sincerity in his brown eyes.

Your heart skips a beat at the suggestion. “That sounds nice.”

“It does?” 

“Yeah, it really does,” you respond, your voice steady despite the fluttering excitement beneath the surface. “I’d love to spend the holiday with you. It sounds… perfect, actually.”

A smile spreads across Marcus’s face, a mix of relief and joy that makes your heart swell. “Yeah, really perfect...”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, this would be the first of many, many holidays spent together.

[stardusttheaters]

@designation0

Orbit wasn’t really able to use any of his magic, so he had Bloom escort him down down to the ground from the clouds to find the portal. She remained with him just in case but let him go through the crack between dimensions himself.

Orbit weakly pulled open the way then gasped lightly as he startled, suddenly in a pit of cubic foams. He scrambled slightly and used his claws to grapple onto the edge of the pit, crawling out and huffing as he stood up with a small stumble. Goodness, what happened to his balance— his head was hurting and he felt light headed, but he knows what that’s from…

He looked around while walking, limping only a little and subconsciously laying a hand on his side over the tight bandages around his torso and stomach. Another tight set around half his face, slightly around his neck. There was a pendant that attached clothing over his chest and around his arms and back, a short wavy silk waving from the middle underneath it. He wore his shorts that went down to his knees, along with his shoes and the decorative bandages, as well as the ones on his arms

He huffed, expression still deeply grumpy, with a tired look to it as well. Wasn’t as seemingly interested in everything now, and was only focusing on one task; finding Andromeda

Well he certainly didn't have to look very far. She was in the main theater hall where the portal had been moved to. She was suspended in the air by her aerial silks that seem to have been moved away from the stage itself by a support crane.

Andromeda was wearing a flowing, pastel purple, dress that accentuated the baby weight she's been gaining -- she was definitely not as slim the last time Orbit saw her and seemed visibly more plush from the shoulders down.

The silk fabric she wound her body in cradled her like a hammock, her thighs and shoulders wrapped to keep any pressure off her abdomen as she lay there with her eyes closed, humming softly to herself. Andromeda's hands were gently placed over her stomach. There, she could feel a very faint pulse if she was still enough and it left a very serene smile on her face.

Her rays wiggled happily as she wiggled her paw like feet to the beat of the song she hummed.

Orbit's huff made her movements completely freeze. Her humming stopped abruptly and her eyes flew open, her body tense for a moment. Someone else was here? She perked her head up and began to frantically look around.

H-Hello??

[del-stars]

on valentines & casual i-love-yous

sirius&james | 615 words | @ecstarry @star4daisy @moon-seas

for @v7lgar - happy valentine’s day <3

Sirius is still getting used to the concept of Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s Day was not celebrated in the House of Black: one, because it was Muggle and therefore filthy, and two, because none of the married couples in this family actually loved each other, let alone liked one another. Gifts, on the rare occasion they were given, were always about practicality: fancy quills, expensive clothes, or dusty family heirlooms passed down every Christmas or birthday. What use was there for flowers, or even worse— chocolates?

But Sirius loves Remus, a whole lot, and so he bought the fanciest chocolates he could find and snuck into Remus’ bed in the early hours of the morning to celebrate. They kissed, among other things, and told one another they love each other in glorious privacy, and then Remus gave him flowers and an annotated book. A nice mix of superfluous and sweet and still sort of useful. Expected, too— because Remus knew Sirius’ family is weird about romantic love, and so they’d talked about it all, and Sirius felt aptly prepared for the whole thing.

What was not expected was the fat, wet kiss James lays on his cheek in the common room, along with the cupcake he drops into his lap, reading I love you.

“Um, Prongs,” Sirius grimaces, looking at the boxed cupcake in disdain, “I think you meant this for Lily.”

“Nope,” James says in his smooth and easy tone, settling in the armchair next to Sirius. “I got it for you. Love you, happy Valentine’s Day!”

Sirius continues staring at the cupcake. The red icing is beginning to melt and slide off the side. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say, now.

“Well, say it back.”

It feels like pulling teeth. “Happy V—” 

Sirius chews on the V caught in his mouth. He’d been prepared for Valentine’s with Remus, had coached himself into acting like a normal person about receiving explicit signs of love, but this was totally unanticipated. Off-script. He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to feel about it. “Why did you get me this?”

James frowns. “Because it’s Valentine’s Day. And I love you.”

Sirius feels his cheeks redden. “Like, you mean...”

James reaches over and whacks Sirius with a throw pillow that had been Transfigured into the shape of a cartoonish heart for the day. “No, not like that. I mean that you’re my best friend, and it’s Valentine’s Day, and I love you, say it back.”

James has been his best friend in the entire universe for six years: his soulmate, his brother, his everything. Sirius gets it, always has— how easily James can throw his love around, how he’d learned it from Effie and Monty, that love is free-flowing and all the better the more you pour it out. He’s felt the warm hugs from Effie, Monty’s strong hand on his shoulder, the way James sits practically on top of him after long breaks apart, and he’s heard I love you from all three of them. 

He’s never, not once, been able to say it back.

Sirius has told Remus that he loves him. He’s told Regulus, when they were younger, mostly in the dark. He’s sure he told his mother before he was old enough to remember it. Maybe he;s told Andromeda, but he can’t remember. That’s it. That’s the entire list. 

It’s Valentine’s Day, and Sirius loves James, and that list is awfully short.

His face is still red, and the words still hurt coming out, but there has to be a first time for everything, so he says it. He just comes right out and says it.

“I love you, James. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

[narkissistikos]

Warnings : major character death. Mentions of vomit. Crying. Sobbing. And angst. Lots and lots of angst

"Listen to me. Listen to me." She had grabbed his face and made him look at him. "You'll always have me. Always"

And she had said it in a way that actually made him believe it. What a fool he was.

She had made him lay down on the bed. It was winter. And those rare months meant that he was the one offering her his warmth instead of her offering her comfort after a terrible nightmare.

Though the cold weather didn't stop her from telling him she wasn't going anywhere.

"You have me. Always. Dead or alive. Like suppose you're going somewhere, and you see these random flowers in the road, that's me. That's me telling you I love you. And the coffee you put in your chocolate cake? I'll be right beside you to make sure you don't accidentally make the cake too bitter. And if its been raining too hard. And the sun finally comes out and you see a rainbow, that's me Iris messaging you to tell you to put the damn sweater on, or you're gonna get cold. And if you see the moon during the day? That's me too."

He had felt her moving closer to him, because she were cold or she just needed him, he never figured out. Her voice wavered and she had shivered and he had looked down at her to see a few tears escape her eyes and travel across the bridge of her nose. She were always quick to wipe those off, said they tickled too much.

"What would be your signs?" She had asked him, and he had remembered that she told him once that she knew she was going to die before him, she had chalked it up to her lack of survival instincts, but he had thought she knew her prophecy.

"CAN you send signs from Elysium?" He had asked her and she told him to humor her, so that she would know what to look for. She was shaking more violently now, so he had wrapped her blanket around her tighter.

There was a limit to how much she could control though.

And soon he was wiping off her tears and when he asked her why she was crying, she didn't have a clear answer for whether she was crying over the prospect of his death or hers.

But a few minutes later she had rested her forehead against his neck and his fingers had been ghosting over the ridges of her spine. She had kissed his cheek before she fell asleep and he remembered that feeling long after she was gone.

He woke up from his dream with a gasp, only this time, she weren't here to wipe away his tears or to tell him that she's always gonna be here. This time he had to cry alone and he was thankful for the soundproof room on Princess Andromeda.

He pulled the blanket up to his mouth and let out a scream that would have made anyone, if someone heard, cry.

He was scared he'd ruin her blanket, the last thing he had that smelled of her. Bile rose up his throat and threatened to spill out on the woolen blanket strewn across his lap.

He had to stop himself so as to he wouldn't have to wash her scent off of the blanket.

"Please....Please....Please." He whimpered as the tears flowed down his cheeks. "Give her back. PLEASE!" He yelled so loud he was sure that something in his throat was about to break.

The worst part of his story was that he didn't even have a chance to tell her he loved her for the last time. She left when he wasn't there and although she used to say that he would be most of her last 7 minutes of the best memories, he has doubts that she would have heard him saying that he loved her in those moments.

He didn't even know what killed her. Didn't know what he should be mad at, other than that you were lost and he had done NOTHING to save you.

The sway of the ship make his nausea even worse. Making him feel like he was about to lose consciousness due to the bile rising up. His eyes became blurry and before he knew it, he was sobbing again, clutching her blanket for some semblance of comfort with his knees drawn up to his chest, and throat burning.

He kept hearing her cries every now and then and that made him cry even harder, begging for her to be saved. For someone to try and save his love

[outromoony]

Afterlife

@wolfstarmicrofic | Word count: 293

From above, Sirius watched the ceremony unfold below. Remus, his beloved, stood at the altar, his hands trembling as he faced his soon-to-be wife, who was no other than his niece, Andromeda's daughter.

James had advised him to stop watching, to spare himself the pain, but Sirius couldn't tear his eyes away. How could he begrudge the love of his life happiness, even if it meant his own heartache?

He had seen them through time—their conversations turning into love, Nymphadora's Patronus changing into a wolf, just like his had when he was alive. Remus deserved that type of love again, a love as fierce and unwavering as the moon's pull on the tides.

"I do," Remus said, his voice thick with emotion as he gazed into her eyes.

Sirius closed his eyes briefly, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I wish I could tell you I'm happy for you, Moony," he whispered. "Now I can see the moon from even closer, and it's not as scary as you think."

A tear escaped his eye as he opened them to see Remus steal a glance at the sky before kissing her. "I'm here," Sirius murmured, his voice carried away by the wind. "I never really left."

"I love you," Remus declared as they parted, and Sirius knew he meant it.

"I love you," Sirius whispered, though he knew Remus couldn't hear him, his voice breaking slightly. "I'll be watching over you, as I promised, always."

As the ceremony ended and they walked away, hand in hand, Sirius lingered in the silence of the afterlife, a solitary figure in the vast expanse. Tears welled in his eyes, and he let them flow freely.

"Goodbye, my moon," he whispered, his voice carried away into eternity.

[vestaignis]

Перевернутая медуза-Кассиопея Андромеда. Upside-down jellyfish - Cassiopeia Andromeda.

Кассиопея Андромеда – медуза средних раз­­­меров( максимальную шир­и­ну 30 см) в процессе эв­олюции перешедшая от свободноплавающе­го (пелагического) об­ра­за жизни к прик­ре­пле­нному. Скопле­ния Кас­сиопеи Андро­меды мож­но видеть в теплых водах по всему миру, на мелково­дье, в защ­ище­нных от волн бух­тах и лагун­ах, в мелких заводях и каналах,в мангровых болотах и других подобных местообитаниях. Неискушенные наблюда­­­тели часто принима­ют этих медуз за акт­и­н­ий .

Эти красивые медузы переворачиваются кверху вниз и плывут на дно, прижимаются к нему желто-коричневый с бе��ыми пятнами куполом и продолжают мягко пульсир­овать создавая восходя­щие токи воды. У Кас­сиопеи Андр­оме­ды ветвистые щупальца, иногда довольно яркой синей окраски, но чаще бледно-зеленые или светло-коричневые. Своими вытян­ут­ыми щупа­ль­цами медузы стараются выл­овить из потока пропускаемой через себя воды, чт­о-нибудь съедоб­ное . Кассиопея Андромеда питается – зоопланкт­­­оном, однако подоб­но другим кишечнопол­о­с­тным, в тканях они выращивают зоокса­нт­ел­л( симбиотическая водоросль), которым нео­бхо­дим солнечный св­ет. Эти водоросли поставляют свои излишки пищи медузам, которые ими питаются.

Стрекательными клетками эти медузы тоже не обделены и хоть и не сильно, но могут «ужалить» и человека. Кстати, стрекательные клетки Кассиопея выпускает в виде облачка полупрозрачной слизи, так что взбалтывать воду ластами при погружении рядом с этими медузами крайне не рекомендуется.

Cassiopeia Andromeda is a medium–sized jellyfish (maximum width 30 cm) that has evolved from a free-swimming (pelagic) lifestyle to an attached one. Clusters of Cassiopeia Andromeda can be seen in warm waters around the world, in shallow waters, in sheltered coves and lagoons, in shallow backwaters and channels, in mangrove swamps and other similar habitats. Inexperienced observers often mistake these jellyfish for anemones.

These beautiful jellyfish turn upside down and swim to the bottom, cling to it with a yellow-brown dome with white spots and continue to gently pulsate creating ascending currents of water. Cassiopeia Andromeda has branched tentacles, sometimes quite bright blue in color, but more often pale green or light brown. With their outstretched tentacles, the jellyfish try to catch something edible from the stream of water flowing through them. Cassiopeia Andromeda feeds on zooplankton, but like other coelenterates, they grow zooxanthellae (symbiotic algae) in their tissues, which need sunlight. These algae supply their surplus food to the jellyfish that feed on them.

These jellyfish are also not deprived of stinging cells, and although not much, they can "sting" a person. By the way, Cassiopeia releases stinging cells in the form of a cloud of translucent mucus, so it is highly discouraged to shake the water with flippers when diving next to these jellyfish.

Источник:https://www.youtube.com/watchv=4S9dT2nSYOg&ab_channel=vitaliy6447Kalutskyi,/www.projectnoah.org/spottings/17179815/fullscreen, /www.whatsthatfish.com/fish/upsidedown-jellyfish/2145#8, seaforum.aqualogo.ru/topic/54092-кассиопея-андромеда-cassiopea-androme%C2%ADda/, /rtraveler.ru/photo/337448/, /ok.ru/moychetv/topic/152205231908215, /ru.frwiki.wiki/wiki/Cassiopea, http://www.lensart.ru/picture-pid-6fb7f.htm, /lysmata-shop.ru/meduzyi/meduza-sidyachaya-kassiopeya-6-8-sm#prettyPhoto.

[ad-caelestia]

Constellation Correspondences

[updated 12.13.24]

A

Andromeda - power, removing barriers, release, letting go

Aquarius - innovation, luck, rebellion, intellect, curiosity

Aquila - guidance, psychic work, astral travel

Ara - hearth, home, devotion, refuge, protection 

Aries - fertility, abundance, protection, banishing 

Auriga - wisdom, knowledge, storm warding 

B

Boötes - inspiration, nature, storm warding 

C

Cancer - astral travel, dreamwork, psychic abilities, imagination, creativity, subconscious desire 

Canes Venatici - companionship, faithfulness, protection, healing 

Canis Major & Canis Minor - death, renewal, new beginnings, protection, purification

Capricornus - harvest, energy, abundance

Cassiopeia & Cepheus - balance, relationships, love, union, healing, maternal conflict (Cassiopeia), and familial/home conflict (Cepheus) 

Centaurus - balance, duality, healing, wisdom

Cetus - power, intelligence, communication, change, growth, happiness

Columba - peace, relaxation, fidelity, devotion, marriage, union

Corona Australis - emotions, love, spirituality, success, manifestation of goals 

Corona Borealis - guidance, protection, knowledge, divination, success, manifestation of goals

Corvus - wisdom, secrets, duality, prophecy, divination

Crater - life, emotions, abundance

Crux - elemental energy, crossroads, decision-making 

Cygnus - light, death, transformation, prophecy, self-esteem 

D

Delphinus - intelligence, wisdom, truth, releasing negativity, fertility, safe travels 

Draco - wisdom, power, knowledge, prosperity, luck, protection 

E

Eridanus - life, health, abundance, power, wisdom, transformation, meditation 

G

Gemini - balance, change, transition, increased power, banishing

Grus - death, rebirth, mysticism, truth, divination  

H

Hercules - wisdom, creativity, strength, energy

Hydra/Hydrus - life, reproduction, forces of nature, power, healing, transformation

L

Leo - power, protection, courage, strength 

Lepus - abundance, swiftness, wisdom, divination, hidden knowledge, transformation, lunar magic 

Libra - balance, healing, legal matters 

Lupus - power, purpose, loyalty, protection

Lynx - isolation, purification, cleansing, illumination, insight, hidden knowledge, swiftness

Lyra - underworld, enchantment, immortality of the soul, music 

M

Monoceros - beauty, freedom, love, luck, spirituality, transformation, wisdom, creativity 

O

Ophiuchus & Serpens - healing, balance, the flow of energy 

Orion - self-confidence, strength, victory, winter storms 

P

Pegasus & Equuleus - travel between realms, contacting the dead, astral travel, divination, psychic abilities 

Perseus - hope, desire, wishes, manifestation, power 

Phoenix - change, cycles, transformation, rebirth, renewal, personal growth 

Pisces - creation, fertility, union, creativity 

Piscis Austrinus - prophecy, divination, inspiration, astral travel, wisdom, otherworldly knowledge 

Pleiades, the - mysticism, power, higher consciousness, wisdom, awareness

S

Sagittarius - mental stimulation, virility, sexuality, physical energy, power, skill, manifestation of goals

Scorpius - protection, the underworld, creativity, transformation, psychic abilities 

T

Taurus - abundance, regeneration, power, strength, potency 

Triangulum - balance, change, transformation

U

Ursa Major - protection, strength, survival, exile, familial love

Ursa Minor - renewal, rebirth, awakening, strength

V

Virgo - rebirth, harvest, regeneration, prosperity 

source

© 2025 ad-caelestia

[dragon-susceptible]

Different Path Taken Ch20: P1 Lunar Caldera

Introducing: Ellis and Ava!! and also featuring a performance of Callum's famous jerkface dance!

I'm thinking about doing the second half of this chapter a little differently than before, and switching up the perspectives a bit. I kinda wanna just let Runaan do a full on lore dump, so maybe the second half will be mostly just like, his dialogue, written as narration, and with just the occasional prompting quotes from the others to keep him moving through topics? Kinda like Callum's spellbook type narration. I'm not sure if that would be too much of a switch considering the rest of the work though, and I've never written anything like that so Idk if it'd actually flow that well.

Everyone was tense, and Ezran was already tired.  Callisto had said he probably would be, after everything he’d been through the day before, but he didn’t really understand why.  He’d been swimming for a few minutes, and it had been really cold, but he slept for he didn’t even know how long afterward, and had awoken nice and warm and dry wrapped up in the elves’ blankets and Ram’s clothes in the cave.  They’d had that snowball fight, he guessed, and then they’d been worried in town for the egg.

He still worried for it.  The little bits of movement he’d heard from inside it, the warmth it radiated, the feeling of a little sleeping presence, had gone largely still and quiet.  There was still something, but the presence was so much fainter. 

Maybe he was just discouraged and that was why his feet were so heavy as they hiked up the sharp, rocky slopes of the mountain.  Callum didn’t seem to be delayed at all, and Ezran pouted at his brother’s back as he scurried ahead at Runaan’s heels, asking him endless questions.  He could use some help back here. 

At least Skor and Callisto were walking back with him.  Andromeda and Rayla were ahead too, and Ram was so far in front Ezran kept losing sight of him.  Corvus had tried to walk in the rear, but several of the elves had bared their fangs at him and Runaan had ordered him shortly to stay where he could see him, so he was also far ahead of Ezran.

Ezran glanced over at Skor gratefully just in time to see him wince faintly, and frowned, looking the elf over.  He was walking a bit gingerly on one foot. “Are you okay?” He asked in sudden worry for his new friend.

Skor smiled faintly at him and shrugged.  He snapped his fingers to get Callisto’s attention and signed something over to them. 

Callisto seemed to fall into being his voice as easily as Gren did for Aunt Amaya. “I twisted my ankle on the other trail - when I fell, and dropped you during the avalanche.  I’m sorry about that.”

Ezran blinked at the older man blankly. “That wasn’t your fault.  Bait’s the one who burped.” He pointed out, holding up the glow toad as if to prove it.  Bait turned faintly pink with embarrassment and groaned reluctant agreement. 

Skor’s mouth cracked open in a real smile and he signed something else to Callisto, who dutifully relayed his words as Ezran focused on his hands, habitually trying to pick up familiar signs.  There really weren’t any, given shadow sign wasn’t the same as Katolian sign, but it was hard to break the habit. “I know, little one.  I just feel bad for droppin’ you.  I’m just glad you’re alright.”

That just made Ezran more determined to prove him right, to show that he was okay, that he could keep going.  He squared his shoulders. “You don’t have to feel bad.  Accidents happen to everyone!  But if it helps, I forgive you.” 

The elf laughed softly, the noise rattling somewhere in his chest as Callisto snickered too, and a gentle hand squeezed Ezran’s shoulder gratefully.  The shadow sign for thank you was similar enough that Ezran knew it without Callisto relaying it to him, and he grinned back proudly at catching it.

He still wasn’t as good at sign language as Callum, and now he had to add a whole other sign language to his learning list!  It was worth it for the way it made Aunt Amaya and Skor both smile though.

“Look ahead,” Runaan called from in front of them, and they all looked up. 

“Oh wow, I didn’t know there were so many of you!  Hi hi hi!” The little human girl said brightly from the back of the wolf. “I came to show you how to find the miracle healer!  Come on!” 

Without waiting for an answer, she and the wolf turned around and bounded up the slope ahead. 

“I assume that’s the girl and wolf ye mentioned?” Callisto asked, as they all abruptly stopped, the elves all just sort of staring after her.

Ezran nodded. “Yep.  At least we have someone with us who knows where to find the miracle healer now!  Maybe she won’t be all the way at the top like the Guardian is.” He said, with a cringing look up the slope. 

“Oh, wait, let me introduce you guys!” Callum called, and they all converged on Ellis and Ava when the wolf paused to listen to him.  At least she seemed to realize they needed to talk to each other, unlike the girl on her back. “Everyone, this is Ellis.  Ellis, this is, uh . . . well that’s Rayla, and that’s Runaan, Andromeda, Ram, Skor, Callisto, and also Corvus.  He’s new.  The rest of them we met when they . . . uh.  Broke into our castle trying to kill Ezran.”

They all paused for a moment and Ellis looked around at the elves in sudden confusion and concern.  Ezran suppressed a flash of irritation at his brother for his terrible explanations.  He didn’t have to lead with that! “But we’re past that now,” He said quickly. “They’re our friends.”

With that, the concern melted immediately from Ellis’ face and she was back to beaming at them.  She flipped upside down on Ava’s back to grin at Rayla. “People meet in so many interesting ways!” 

“So, where do we find this miracle healer?” Rayla asked with a smile, as Runaan knelt in front of the wolf with a more serious expression.  He reached for the collar around the wolf’s neck and Ezran met her gaze, the wolf suddenly realizing something and rumbling when he touched it, lifting the stone where he could see it. 

“The truth is, I never found her - she found us.” Ellis said. “We were hiding in a big twisty hollow tree, up near the rim.”

Of course it was up near the top.  Ezran sighed softly. 

“I’ll get us to that tree, the healer will find us there, and she’ll save the egg!” The girl said brightly. 

“And maybe she can help your hands,” Ezran said hopefully. 

“Don’t worry about our hands.  The egg is all that matters now.” Ram said firmly. 

Runaan hummed softly. “I suppose it does not matter much, as our destination remains the same, but I feel this is important to share.  There is likely . . . there is no miracle healer.  The woman this girl - Ellis - encountered was most likely the Guardian of the Nexus.”

“But wait, that doesn’t make any sense,” Callum argued. “We can see that she has four legs now!  I thought moon magic couldn’t do that kind of stuff.”

The wolf whined, and Ezran met her eyes.  She shifted her weight off the leg, pawing at nothing, and he got the sense she felt no weight from it, though it supported her when she stepped back down.  His eyes widened with understanding. “The leg isn’t real,” He blurted out, aware of almost everyone turning to look at him. “It’s just an illusion, isn’t it?  Ava - Ava said so.”

Runaan’s snow-white brows shot towards his hairline as he replied. “Yes, it is.  The collar gives the illusion substance with the gemstone in it.  It is a moonstone etched with the moon rune.  The leg is solid enough to touch, to support her weight, but she likely feels no weight from it, either, and I would wager she’s never injured it again, either, or suffered from the paw being too cold.  That would be too complicated an illusion to maintain without conscious thought.”

“How did you know that?” Callum asked suspiciously, zeroed in on Ezran, and Ezran scowled at him.

“I told you, I can understand animals.” He said, already grumpy from how many years Callum had spent telling him he was wrong.

Callum groaned. “Ezran, we’ve been over this, that’s not true!  Why are you always lying to people about it?”

“Boys,” Runaan said sharply, and Ezran bit the inside of his lip at how much he sounded like - like his dad.

Andromeda frowned. “Wait, have I missed something?  Ezran, you can communicate with the animals?”

“Can you believe this?” Callum said. “Come on, Ez.  Tell the truth.  The first time he did this, I asked him to prove it.  So Ezran said that a group of raccoons had told him there was a treasure hidden behind a waterfall!  But when I went behind the waterfall, did I find a treasure?”

Frustration burned in Ezran’s chest and he stared at the ground, clutching the straps of the backpack that held the egg. “No.” He grumbled bitterly. 

“But did my underwear get soaked?”

“Yes.”

“Case closed!”

“The raccoons were being mischievous!” Ezran protested. “I have since learned you cannot trust raccoons.”

“This is ridiculous.  See, this is why you can’t make friends.” Callum accused.

It was a familiar sore spot and Ezran just scowled at him, choosing not to point out how Callum couldn’t do it and Callum didn’t have any friends either, except for sort of Soren - less now that he was a full Crownguard - and Claudia.  And Callum wasn’t even the prince who had to deal with people lying all the time, since nobody expected him to be in charge of anything once he grew up.

“Callum!” Rayla, Runaan, and Andromeda all barked at once, and Callum actually flinched, and Ezran blinked at them with surprise as he felt someone kneel behind him and Skor’s hand landed on his shoulder protectively. 

“Back off,” Rayla warned.

“That’s quite enough,” Runaan said, at the same time as Andromeda said “That’s enough!” He shot a look at both of them and was the only one to proceed. “I admit that the ability is . . . rare, and I have never heard of it on this side of the border, but . . . tales exist in Xadia of folk capable of understanding the thoughts of animals around them.  It is not impossible, though I am surprised by it occurring here of all places.”

Ezran blinked up at him in amazement. “You believe me?”

Runaan smiled at him, his often cold teal eyes gentle this time. “Yes.  And if this is the response you receive for being honest about it, I do understand why it has not come up before.” He shot Callum a harsher look, raising one eyebrow at him. 

Callisto made a short noise of realization. “Back on the boat, when ye said Bait wanted t’ know if I liked animals - you actually did mean Bait, didn’t you?” They asked in a slightly awed voice.

Ezran nodded, a little ashamed. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me, but I had to ask.  Bait’s a good judge of character.  He liked your answer.” 

The elf smiled at him almost sadly. “I’m glad.”

“So you’re saying that this whole time . . . it was real?” Callum said skeptically.

“Yep.” Ezran said, pouting at him, only partially on purpose.  It had been years since he talked to anyone about this.  No one believed him!  Callum stood with him on most things but this he’d had to keep entirely to himself, because even Callum had told him he was crazy. 

To his surprise, Callum’s shoulders dropped, and his face went serious as he looked down for a minute before looking up at Ezran. “Then . . . I think I owe you an apology, Ezran.”

“Well . . . at least one.” Ezran said, hugging Bait.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.  I promise I’ll never doubt you again.” Callum swore with his hand over his heart. 

Ezran narrowed his eyes at him. “Do you really mean it?”

“I really do.” Callum promised.

Ezran smiled, mischief and a desire for some small vengeance blooming in his heart. “Then you have to do the thing.”

“Here?” Callum glanced at the elves, Corvus, and Ellis. “Now?”

Ezran grinned wider, made his eyes as wide and cute as possible, and nodded wordlessly.

To his delight, Callum just looked at him for a minute before heaving a great sigh and starting to do it.  Ezran clapped a beat for him even as he started laughing, the elves shifting apart to give his brother room to bounce around for the sake of - “Callum’s famous jerkface dance!”

When he looked around at the others, he couldn’t help laughing at the varying reactions.  Ram, Corvus, and Rayla all looked more confused than anything.  Andromeda had both hands covering her mouth but her grin had reached her eyes and her shoulders were shaking as if with laughter.  Runaan appeared mostly stoic, watching Callum’s dance with one raised brow, but Ezran thought he detected a glimmer of a smile pulling at his mouth.  Ellis was just blinking with fascination.  Skor was shaking his head but he was smiling, as if amused in spite of himself, and Callisto was visibly biting their lip to keep from laughing. 

“Knees higher!  Knees higher!” Ezran heckled just to be a brat, and Callum actually did it, started lifting his knees higher, and this was why they had the jerkface dance to begin with.  It was hard to stay mad after Callum apologized when he did something this silly to prove he meant it!

“So, not that this isn’t hilarious, and super adorable,” Ellis said. “But who’s the Guardian, if she’s not a miracle healer who saved my Ava?”

Runaan glanced at the other elves and sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I suppose we have another human guest on this little mission for the time being.” He said wearily. “The Guardian is an elf, a mage left behind to guard the Moon Nexus . . . a place of great power, once the center of Moonshadow elven society, and the greatest concentration of moon magic in the world.  I will explain further as we walk.  It is best we keep moving.  The sooner we reach the peak, the better for the egg.”

[talonabraxas]

“Make sure that consciousness flows into what you do. Keep one foot in this world and one foot in the transcendent—this is the dance.” - Eckhart Tolle

Angels of Andromeda Talon Abraxas

[sweetblinginrose]

stay away from me, lestrange!

(Neville Longbottom x fem¡OCLestrange)

warnings: It mentions torture, death, bullying, abuse, evil, actions without consent, obligations, distress, 0anic attack…

words: 3,5k

a/n: it’s a bit of an introduction, sorry, the good stuff is coming, i promise.

my main language is not English.

masterlist previous chapt. next

━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━

Chapter three: Devil Snare

The years passed in the blink of an eye, and with each one, Morwenna seemed to transform before the eyes of those around her. Her character, once curious and somewhat naïve, began to take on an unmistakable air of haughtiness. She walked through the halls of Hogwarts with her head held high, her confident steps echoing with the same arrogance her cousin Draco and his entourage exuded. To many, there was no doubt she was a Lestrange: pure blood and ambition flowed through her veins, or at least that’s what her demeanor and behavior suggested.

However, what few suspected was that behind that arrogant façade lay a far more complex truth. Morwenna wasn’t truly like Draco or his friends; she didn’t entirely share their disdain for others or their apparent certainty in the supremacy of purebloods. But she had learned to play that role with unsettling mastery.

Draco’s influence had been inevitable. From the moment she arrived at Malfoy Manor, she had been exposed to his worldview, his taunts, his biting remarks, and the camaraderie he shared with his group. Crabbe and Goyle would laugh at anything Draco said, and Pansy Parkinson looked at her with a feigned respect that always felt uncomfortable. Morwenna, though initially distant, soon realized that keeping her distance was a dangerous option. So, she decided to adapt.

She became an actress in her own life. She pretended to laugh at Draco’s cruel remarks, even though they often made her stomach churn. She mimicked his arrogant tone when they spoke about other students, though in her mind she questioned every word. Her façade was flawless: the proud cousin of Draco Malfoy, a young Lestrange who didn’t hesitate to assert her place in the magical world.

But at night, when the castle fell silent and the masks faded, Morwenna faced herself. Sometimes she recalled the words of Andromeda, her true mentor, about right and wrong, and she wondered if she was betraying everything she had once been taught. Yet, she also thought of the pressure from the Malfoy family, of Narcissa’s expectations, and of Lucius’s cold, calculating gaze. Pretending to be someone she wasn’t had become her only means of survival.

Despite her façade, there were moments when her true nature surfaced. When she saw a first-year student trip and become the target of ridicule, her first instinct was to help, though she quickly suppressed the impulse to avoid appearing weak. In classes, she excelled in magic, but she preferred to downplay her achievements to avoid drawing too much attention. Everything was carefully calculated, every move part of a delicate balance between maintaining her façade and preserving a shred of her true self.

The arrogance she projected was armor—armor that shielded her from judgment, rejection, and, above all, the possibility that someone might discover she was not, and never would be, entirely a Lestrange like her parents or as Draco wanted her to be.

It was an ordinary day in Morwenna’s second year at Hogwarts, and the castle corridors were bustling with students rushing about, chatting and laughing. Morwenna, however, walked in silence, her gaze cast down, lost in her own thoughts. Her mind wandered between her pending assignments and Draco’s latest remarks when, suddenly, a jarring collision snapped her out of her reverie.

A student had bumped into her, and before she could react, all her belongings tumbled to the floor with a clatter—quills, parchments, and an enormous Potions book that landed squarely on her foot.

“For Merlin’s sake!” Morwenna cried, gritting her teeth as a sharp pain shot through her big toe. Instinctively, she bent down, clutching her foot, and let out a muttered curse. “Who in the name of—?!”

Looking up, her eyes locked with those of Neville Longbottom, who stood frozen in front of her, his face red with embarrassment and his hands trembling.

“Of course, a useless klutz. Who else could it be?” Morwenna snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm and anger as she leaned down to rub her aching foot. Her tone was laced with contempt, and the hateful glare she shot upward could have made anyone shrink back.

Neville seemed to shrink under the weight of her words at first, but something in his expression shifted almost immediately. For a fleeting moment, he had stepped forward, reaching out a hand to help her, as he often did even with those who didn’t deserve it. But then reality struck him like lightning.

Lestrange.

The name echoed bitterly in his mind, conjuring memories of his parents and that night—the night they were tortured into madness by Bellatrix Lestrange. The initial empathy in his eyes vanished, replaced by an anger rarely seen in him.

“Stupid idiot, get out of my sight,” Morwenna spat coldly, still rubbing her sore foot. Neville, without a word, quickly gathered his things and walked away. But this time, it wasn’t the timid, submissive retreat many expected from him. His jaw was set, and his fists were clenched tightly.

As he moved away, Neville muttered something under his breath, low enough that Morwenna couldn’t hear. It was rare for him to curse anyone, even those who treated him cruelly, but this time he couldn’t stop himself. Just being near her, someone bearing that name, churned his stomach.

The small moments of hatred, both big and small, accumulated over the months and years, like a poisonous spiral that only fed on their mutual contempt. Every time they crossed paths in the hallways, the air would thicken with hostility. Their exchanges of words were always sharp, and their glances were like poisoned knives. It seemed as if they both lived to ruin each other’s day with nothing more than their presence.

It was Morwenna’s third year, and, to her misfortune, they shared a Transfiguration class. The moment Neville arrived late, as was his custom, he had no choice but to sit in front of her. A gesture that, of course, caused an almost malicious smile to spread across Morwenna’s face.

She knew that day would be entertaining. As Professor McGonagall began the lesson, Morwenna had already begun to plot her little revenge. With a subtle and discreet spell, she cast a clumsiness jinx on Neville, hoping to watch him stumble once more under her influence. And as expected, the poor boy did everything he could to perform the spell assigned to them, but only managed to make a fool of himself in front of the class, drawing laughter from his classmates and a stern look from McGonagall.

Morwenna couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, though she did so loudly enough for Neville to hear. Pansy, sitting beside her, also let out a mocking laugh as she watched the boy sink deeper into ridicule.

While McGonagall was busy correcting another student, Morwenna seized the opportunity to make her move. She leaned slightly forward, without moving from her seat, and, with her arm extended, gave Neville’s shoulder a friendly squeeze before quickly slipping a note torn from a parchment into his hands. The note, covered in animated scribbles, read: “Your wand must be broken, because even the simplest spell doesn’t know what to do with your clumsiness.” The note was accompanied by a cruel cartoon of Neville being singed by his own spell, a drawing sure to make anyone who read it laugh. The laughter behind Neville only made him feel more humiliated.

“Your ability to cast spells is so weak that even your frog could learn faster than you,” Morwenna whispered with a twisted smile, as she slowly withdrew, returning to her seat as if nothing had happened. As she sat back down, she watched Neville from over the edge of her desk, seeing the red color creeping up his neck. However, she didn’t care. For her, watching him sink into shame was a small personal pleasure, and the day couldn’t have gone better.

Although her smile still lingered on her face, something inside her tormented her. A small but persistent knot in her stomach slowly began to form as she watched Neville wipe his sleeve across his face, an involuntary gesture that betrayed what he was probably trying to hide: a tear that had escaped. The relief she had felt from seeing his humiliation faded for a moment, replaced by an uncomfortable sensation that she couldn’t quite identify.

Morwenna’s smile slowly dissolved, turning into a strange, almost imperceptible grimace, which she tried to mask by keeping her eyes fixed on her desk. She didn’t want to look at anyone, not even Pansy, who was still laughing beside her. A cold unease settled in her chest, something she had never experienced before in the midst of such a clear victory. Why, after all, did it bother her to see Neville like this?

She glanced at her notebook, but the words seemed blurry. The knot in her stomach was still there, growing, as if what she had just done had left a mark that couldn’t be easily erased. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to shake off that uncomfortable feeling that didn’t seem to align with the person she was trying to be.

In the last term of their third year, Neville and Morwenna shared the same Divination class, which made it an experience Morwenna always enjoyed.

Professor Trelawney moved from student to student, asking about their visions, and Morwenna seized the moment when attention was diverted from her to slip silently to Neville’s side. No one heard her approach.

“Are you sure you can see anything in that ball, Longbottom?” she whispered, her tone sharp as a dagger, but loud enough for some of the nearby students to hear.

Neville looked up, confused and annoyed. “Go back to your disgusting seat, I don’t need any opinions, especially not yours.”

“Of course you don’t,” she continued, a flash of malice in her eyes. “Because all I see there is a dark future. A future where you become a great wizard? I don’t think so. More like one where you’re still the laughingstock of everyone, right?”

The group of nearby students couldn’t help but laugh at her remark. Neville’s face turned red, and his gaze immediately dropped to the table, feeling the weight of their laughter on him.

Morwenna didn’t let the moment slip by without adding her final touch of poison. “Aren’t you ashamed, Neville? You’re so lost that not even your visions of the future can save you.”

The laughter grew among the students. Neville trembled slightly, his nervous hands gripping the crystal ball as if it were his only anchor in the world.

At that moment, Professor Trelawney, with her large glasses and dreamy gaze, approached their group. “What’s going on here, Morwenna? Aren’t you learning about the true magic of the future?”

Morwenna feigned surprise, placing a hand on her chest theatrically. “Oh, professor, I’m just giving Neville a little… inspiration, so he can see what’s ahead of him. After all, he has so much to learn.”

Neville looked to Trelawney, seeking help, but the professor didn’t seem to notice the cruel tone in Morwenna’s words, lost in her own esoteric thoughts.

“Interesting,” murmured Trelawney, oblivious to the harm. “Perhaps that’s an omen of what’s to come, Neville. Trust your intuition.”

Morwenna returned to her seat with a victorious smile, knowing that, once again, she had left her mark. Although Trelawney continued speaking about the future, Morwenna knew she had won: Neville wouldn’t be able to shake off that bitter taste, and the whispers among the other students would confirm that everyone knew what she had done.

As the end of the school year approached and her fourth year began, Morwenna had solidified herself as one of the most admired Slytherins at all of Hogwarts. Her beauty, a blend of features inherited from the Blacks and the Lestranges, made her stand out in any crowd, but it was her ability to manipulate situations to her advantage that made her truly dangerous. While she possessed a natural charisma, that was just one facet of her complexity. No one could deny that, despite her cold facade, she had the ability to adapt and win the sympathy of those around her.

The boys, especially the older ones, seemed to fall at her feet. Many of the sixth and seventh years sought her attention, inviting her to stroll through Hogsmeade or simply spend time with her, hoping for something more than just companionship. They were shrewd, manipulative, and Morwenna, with her growing confidence, often fell into their traps. She knew how to take advantage of others, but she also understood that in this game, the more experienced players sometimes held the upper hand.

On the fourth day of the new year, as the first leaves of autumn fell outside, Morwenna received an invitation to meet in the library. A boy from a higher year had asked her to meet him that night, under the pretense of studying together. The chosen location was discreet and secluded, in the G section of books, right in a hidden corner that couldn’t be seen from the librarian’s desk. The library, that sanctuary of knowledge, thus became the perfect setting for what she thought would be a simple study session, or at least, that’s what she wanted to believe.

The boy, with dark hair and bright eyes, seemed like an excellent opportunity for Morwenna: someone with more experience in everything, someone who could teach her something useful for her studies. She thought that, as in many other situations, she could use this to her advantage. However, what she didn’t know was that, as she entered that dark and secluded corner of the library, she wasn’t just walking toward a study of potions or spells—she was also walking directly into the lion’s den.

Morwenna, with a mix of nervousness and curiosity, slowly approached the section of the library where the boy had said they would meet. The books on Divination and Herbology, subjects that had always been difficult for her, felt slightly heavy in her hands, but she couldn’t shake the faint shiver running through her as she thought that perhaps something more than studying would happen that night. The seventh-year boy, one of the most popular with a captivating gaze, was someone she had never imagined she would find herself in this kind of situation with. Yet, there he was, in a secluded corner of the library, during the late hours reserved for students.

When she saw him, she blushed instantly. He, with his tall frame and dark hair, greeted her in a confident tone. “How’s it going, little one?” he asked, his voice soft but carrying a certain authority. His flawless, almost arrogant features only added to the tension building in the air. With an unexpected gesture, he hugged her, rubbing his hand firmly against her back. Morwenna stiffened, unsure of what to do, while the blush on her face deepened. The hug was warm, but something in the way he held her, possessively, made her feel an odd discomfort that she tried to ignore.

Placing the books on the table, Morwenna tried to focus on studying. “So, what is it that…?” she began to say, but couldn’t finish the sentence.

Suddenly, the boy moved closer to her, his presence overwhelming. In the blink of an eye, he trapped her between him and the low table, his face so close that his warm breath mingled with hers. Before she could react, his lips attacked hers with a passion that completely took her by surprise. Morwenna couldn’t help the shock and fear that flooded her as her hands, still gripping the books, fell to the side. The sensation of her body trapped between him and the table made her feel vulnerable, as though she had no way out.

The kiss, deep and unexpected, left her breathless, and though she initially tried to pull away, something inside her kept her frozen, feeling a confusing mix of emotions.

The young man stood close to Morwenna, his presence enveloping her in a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Every gesture, every glance, seemed to take Morwenna's breath away, who slowly began to relax, letting herself be carried away by the illusion of an eternal and pure adolescent love. However, her dreams vanished when, with a firm hand, the boy pushed her towards the desk, forcing her to give in and settle on its edge. A faint rustle accompanied the advance of lips and curious hands exploring her skin, melting into a whirlwind of confused sensations.

Morwenna, in the midst of emotional turbulence, searched desperately for a foothold, but her hands wandered aimlessly, finally stopping at the sides of her own thighs, mute witnesses to her bewilderment. It wasn't until she felt the boy's hands ascend her legs, defying boundaries and intimacies, that the thread of her reality began to fray.

The young woman was startled to notice her skirt being lifted, revealing the suggestive skin of her thighs and causing her stockings to slip slightly in a dangerous game. Uncomfortable and confused, Morwenna parted her lips from the boy's, only to be silenced by a rough grip over her mouth, accompanied by a grin full of mischief on the young man's face.

"What do you think you're doing, let go of me!" exclaimed Morwenna in a trembling voice, trying to free herself from the suffocating pressure echoing in her chest. The boy, in response, continued with invasive gestures, sliding his playful fingers into the lace of her panties, causing Morwenna to feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability and helplessness.

The situation became increasingly distressing as the agitated struggling made the ancient wood of the desk creak, accompanied by the sound of Morwenna's wrenching resistance. Desperate attempts to push the boy away culminated in a pleading cry, interrupted by a painful grip on his face.

"Stop! No more!" whispered Morwenna between sobs, as the boy persisted in his advance, moving his exploring hands into forbidden territories and causing a shiver of terror to run down the young woman's spine. With a violent gesture, the boy pulled her tightly to him, making her feel the unwanted brush of his body against hers, unleashing a torrent of anxiety and fear that vibrated in the tension-laden air.

And at the height of Morwenna's despair, when all seemed lost in the abysmal darkness of helplessness, a powerful incantation resounded in the silence of the library, uttered with determination.

"Depulso!"

The word, uttered by Neville with a tone that cut through the air like lightning, triggered an explosive reaction. The boy stalking Morwenna was thrown backwards violently, impacting painfully against the library table and causing books and scrolls to tumble tumultuously in its crashing trajectory.

Morwenna, overwhelmed by a mixture of fear and relief, clung to her books as if they were her only lifeline. Her wrinkled and soiled clothes reminded her of the violence of what had happened, forcing her to escape into a silence laden with anguish and grief. As she left the library, Neville looked at the much older boy with disgust.

After that incident, something changed in Morwenna. From that day on, she avoided looking Neville in the eye. There was something in his gaze, a sense of discomfort that took hold of her every time he was near. She no longer spoke a single cruel word to him, not even one of those biting remarks that had once been her signature. Instead, she distanced herself from him, seeking refuge in anything that could offer her a little peace, as if his presence had become something that caused her shame. She hid behind her friends, especially her cousin Draco, seeking comfort in his closeness to avoid facing the growing unease she felt whenever she crossed paths with the boy who, unintentionally, had shown a vulnerability that had left her disarmed.

This change, though subtle at first, was profound. Morwenna took refuge in a façade of flirting, a temporary escape that gave her a sense of power and control. She sought attention from boys, not just from those in her magical circle, but also from Muggles who lived near her Aunt Andromeda’s house. She threw herself into those small interactions, those gestures of affection and desire, believing that somehow, they made her feel better. She felt the need to be seen, to be wanted, for her worth not to depend solely on the image others had of her, but on the attention she could attract around her.

Morwenna, like many teenagers who don’t know how to deal with their insecurities, became dependent on those small doses of external approval. She seemed like a confident girl, but the truth was that her need to be loved was leading her to an even greater emptiness, a constant search for validation that she could never completely satisfy. Despite being surrounded by boys who admired her, by that superficial interest, something was still missing—a hole inside her that the compliments from others couldn’t fill.

tags

@iyearnyouu @dopetrashlawyerdeputy-blog @potterblog @lazybitch06 @hanihoney88 @certainyouththing @sarawoweeee @20bombshell04 @scretlololok @staygold162 @that-crazy-skz-stan-uwu @shilphy87

[redspacegirl]

i have been told that im really shit at naming characters so um

[sarafangirlart]

Call me “that one friend that’s too woke” but I’ll always side eye ppl who draw African Andromeda with really short hair, not only is she described as having long hair flowing in the wind that made Perseus realize that this pretty statue in the distance was actually a person, but the vast majority of ppl (incorrectly) assume that she’s from modern Ethiopia, but traditional Ethiopian hairstyles are long and beautiful stylized and yet I rarely see ppl draw her as such for some reason.

Hell even if you go for a more accurate depiction of her background, which is Canaanite and Egyptian, ppl from those civilizations had long hair and/or long wigs, just another example of artists being clueless over drawing black hair.

[rockongolddustw]

The Black Sisters Fic - Complete

(Andromeda x Ted, Narcissa x Lucius, Bellatrix x Voldemort)

Canonish compliant fic set around the rise of Voldemort. Enemies to Lovers, Fish out of Water Slow Burn, Villain Origin Story, with lots of Slytherin politics, cliffhangers and witchcraft lore

Complete, 150k words, find it on A03

Cover art by @guine_evere on IG

‘Beware all ye who enter’ read the dusty old sign hanging over the doorway of the ratty old tent. The Black Sisters stood before it, contemplating the cavernous lair of the Seer Narcissa insisted on seeing.

The sign should have made them pause, but then again, the sisters were hardly likely to be threatened by idle threats meant to scare the masses. No one would accuse Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa of being ordinary. The Black sisters rose above it all.

‘Come on, Bella,’ Narcissa implored, pulling her eldest sister through the entrance and into the blackness beyond, ignoring her sighs and eyes rolling in exasperation.

Bella had no patience with Divination or Narcissa’s girlish obsession with it. All she saw in her teacups were so-called Grims.

‘They say she only comes out during Solstice once every five years; we cannot miss her,’ Narcissa insisted, determined that her sisters listen to her for once and take their futures seriously. How were they to make a dent in the world if they were not prepared for what was coming?

Andromeda fell behind, as she so often did, uninterested in her sister's plans, plots, and schemes, getting lost in the much richer world playing out in her head.

She bathed her senses in the dark atmosphere of the Seer’s lair. The tent held an intoxicating musky sandalwood smell, the rich velvet drapes brushing against her fingertips as she gazed at the twinkling sprites dancing brightly in their midst. It felt unreal. As much as she was used to the eccentricities of the Wizarding World, this place was more dreamlike than anywhere she’d ever visited.

Only the sharp eyes of the famed Seer could pull Andromeda out of her trance. The Witch they’d heard so much about from Narcissa held court in the centre of this otherworld. She sat in stillness before a fire, deep hooded eyes trained on the sisters. They could barely breathe at the intensity of her gaze.

Andromeda and Narcissa felt ill at unease. The sisters were no strangers to ancient magic, but this place felt drenched in an unknown power.

Bella remained unmoved; it took much more than some parlour tricks to make her believe in such nonsense. The eldest of the Black sisters huffed as she reluctantly took a seat, waving her hand to encourage her sisters to follow.

The Seer merely raised a brow and handed Bella a gleaming silver dagger. She wasted no time grasping it, a look of disdain etched on her strikingly beautiful face.

All the Black Sisters were well-versed in blood magic, and the ritual did not need to be spelt out. Bella quickly sliced open her palm and let her blood drip into the flame, then grabbed her sister's hands to do the same, all in an impatient flurry. Andromeda complied quickly, watching the thick, crimson blood fall from her hands in fascination. At the same time, Narcissa grimaced, wincing delicately, and snatching her hand back, swishing her wand to stem the flow of blood as soon as she could and checking her dress carefully for any spots of blood that might have fallen onto it.

They watched carefully as the Seer cast her wand over the flickering flames, guiding them in their path. She then cast her intense gaze into the depths of the fire and searched furiously for the answers she sought.

Finally, the Seer took a deep breath, her eyes gleaming and a small, wry smile etched on her face.

‘The last of the House of Black,’ the Seer whispered as she watched the dancing flames, unknown futures springing to life in its depths. It was both a promise and a threat.

‘Our line is strong,’ Bella scoffed, clearly unimpressed with the theatrics and ominous prediction.

‘None will survive you,’ the Seer smiled. ‘The only question is, will you endure?’

‘What is our fate?’ Narcissa whispered gently, enraptured by the low baritone voice of the Witch in front of them.

The Seer contemplated them one by one. Her words were a low, deep hum, powerfully vibrating as they spilled from her mouth.

‘Love,’ she said, pointing her long finger to Andromeda;

‘Influence,’ pointing to Narcissa;

‘Power,’ pointing to Bellatrix.

‘Do not be fooled when you are banished, imprisoned, and crowned. There is more to come; you must look to these forces to see it. They will drive you, they will shape you, and if you are not careful, they will devour you.’

The Prophecy hung in the air for a spellbinding moment. Then, slowly, the Seer's words turned into smoke, curling around and dancing lightly in the air before they descended, compelled towards the orb below them, swallowing the smoke in one gulp. Another promise captured for the Hall of Prophecies.

Bellatrix jumped to her feet in outrage. ‘There is no one who can devour us,’ she hissed, furious at the implication.

She jumped from her seat, grabbed her sister's hands, and pulled them quickly out of the oppressive tent into the fresh air outside.

The Seer cackled loudly.

In her long years of prophesying, she had found few could accept their fate. It didn’t matter. The Black Sisters would find it came to them just the same.