#In my head there were originally probably around like 10 witches

[anxietywriter]

Myths of Origin

I wanted to do something in length that described the legend around hybrid beings in my fantasy world and their origins. Just a little bit of world building as a treat :3

"Mim...?"

"Yes, my child?"

"Why do you have feathers and I don't?"

"Oh, well... That my child is a mix of genetics and... magic."

Back when witches were newly imbued with their powers by the council, they went about restoring the world on their own. It was hard, strenuous, lonely work... There weren't nearly as many witches in the beginning as there are now. Yet they were tasked with healing all of the land and depths below. A monumental task. They had to have areas assigned to them, to divide and conquer so to speak. But, as I mentioned... It was lonely. The witches had to work all day, drain all of their magic reserves, and come home to an empty room. That is where familiars come in. A typically non-magical animal that is imbued with natural magic. Some say that it witches themselves that created familiars. Others say that the council saw how lonely the witches were and gifted them familiars. Either way, this went on for several years. Each passing year, the land was being restored back to it's healthy state.

However, one witch was still not quite satisfied. They returned home to their familiar and would yearn for more. They'd stare... At pictures, sculptures, poems, songs, and stories that depicted love. They were surrounded by it, consumed by it. That want and desire for something more. The other witches didn't understand this obsession, this fascination. Witches you see, they are born of magic, and were so new to the world. They were saddled with the task of soothing the land from war. The council did not create them with the foresight of what life was after that work was done. They were not meant to fall in love in such a fashion. People could not distract them from their work. That was another perk of familiars, they were not people. Familiars were able to give companionship and accept odd hours of affection with less trouble.

Witches then, they only knew each other and the few creatures they encountered during their work. Their work allowed for few friendships, and certainly not meant for the acquirement of a lover. It is said that they did not entirely understand the desire to love romantically in the early days. Many still express this feeling. I think some humans do as well. Though, no one has such a burden to carry today, so perhaps the original witches just didn't love romantically by random chance... Nevertheless, the other original witches were quite satisfied with their familiar as a companion. But that one witch...

They longed for a love. Someone more than a friendly companion. They slept in warm blankets during the summer to simulate a lover's embrace, would speak to themselves as if they were not alone, and even magick illusions of people. It was agony. They struggled to continue their work, their body shook in time with their heartbeat, and magic would spider up their arms, bursting forward like a whip. The council was baffled and saddened to see such a thing happen to one of their witches. So, a solution was formed. The council took the witch's familiar and gave the familiar the shape of a person. And it worked. The hybrid had all the features and magic of a familiar, but the shape of a person.

The witch finally had someone to love. And so the two married and eventually had children. Depending on who marries who, hybrids can vary in appearances. For instance, I married your father, who is more human than I, therefore you have more skin and less feathers. But you still have the slim face shape of my side of the family.

---

Did it this way because I wanted to give it a story telling feel. BUT this is what I have figured out as an explanation for the hybrids. There are multiple different types, like my character M is a rabbit hybrid, but the one mentioned here is some type of bird hybrid (likely going to limit this to birds of prey). But also cat hybrids, wolf (not dog) hybrids, and rats + mice. Maybe might add lizards, salamanders, and maybe more aquatic hybrids in, but not too sure on how to fit those bad boys in yet.

Funny story: The way I had this go wasn't the initial or first idea I had come up with. I knew I wanted it to be kind of almost a legend, like baby stork explanation, and I knew that I wanted hybrids to connect somehow with familiars, but not quite exactly how the hybrid came from the familiar. Originally, I just straight up was going to have the lonely witch transform their own familiar and. Y'know. But that felt weird, even though I know myths are weird. This felt less weird.

[emo-markie]

*:･ﾟ✧ Supernatural oc/reader fic recs

I like to read. So I read. A lot. This is my curated selection of fics that make me feral. I highly recommend checking out the creators!

REMEMBER TO READ THE TAGS!

Last updated : October 10, 2024

red means work in progress

blue means complete work

(sorted by alphabetic order)

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SAM WINCHESTER

Birdcage Fires by FallingDomino on Fanfiction.net

Rating: M

After finding a naked girl on a lonely stretch of California road on a stormy night, Sam doesn't have long to try and help the amnesiac girl before Dean drags him back into the life of hunting. Over the past three years, he never really forgot her, but when they reunite, the brothers discover something much more sinister about the night Sam saved her. Sam/OC, Before S1, skips to S4

Complex by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: M

Sam Winchester will do whatever it takes to save his brother from Hell. When all else fails, he tries a spell—and botches it. Cassandra Holmes awoke from uneasy dreams and found herself transported to a fictional universe. Cass wants to go home. Sam wants his brother back. Maybe, working together, they can both get what they want.

Pie and Consqeuences by SteelRigged on AO3

Rating: T

Dean’s eyebrows were popping off his face. He looked at Sam, who had pie falling off his nose, and swallowed a smile. "You're getting slow, Sam," Dean said, and patted his brother on the shoulder. Sam wiped pie from his cheeks and chin. Veronica's rage had caught him off guard. She was one of the few people from his past he was still on good terms with. At least he thought they had been on good terms. At least neutral terms. Not pie in the face terms. “Oh Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” Dean muttered, glowing with pleasure. “Don’t worry. I’ve been there. You probably deserved it.”

pythia - a supernatural rewrite by uncouth-the-fiffth on AO3

Rating: T

John goes missing. Like every time you use your Gift to track him down, it's hardly for his own sake. If it weren't for Dean, trembling under that too-big jacket on your stoop and working up the courage to even say Sam's name, you'd happily never think about their father ever again. Or what you're doing to Sam's life by pulling him back into the hunt. If it was up to you, John Winchester would never be heard from again. But the boys need you. So, you go.

I highly recommend checking out the author's other fics here: uncouth's spn fics

The LightBringer by I_Am_A_Silver_Lining on AO3

Rating: E

Waking in the body of Lucifer, having their memories and powers, should have been horrible. And it was... ...Until it wasn't OR Kore wakes up as Lucifer, powers, memories and all. She is still herself with a little something sinister sprinkled in and decides to rip up the script and throw the apocalypse out the door. However, her True Vessel seems to still believe she wants to get in him, but he'd MUCH rather have it the other way around... OR OC invades Supernatural and takes over the world one piece of trash at a time. with ART

This Untraveled Road (series) by BAPWarrior18 on AO3

By Fate or Free Will

Rating: M

In the year 2003, a witch unleashed a powerful spell that drastically altered the fates of thousands of girls and women around the world. Some were killed. Some were protected. Many went about their lives or deaths unknowing of their transformed purpose. However, each were meant to be soldiers in the war against evil. Each were meant to tip the scales in the favor of good. For one in particular, there would have been no tipping of the scales… if not for some higher being’s determination to piggyback not only on the spell, but on the things that had already been set in motion by demons. OR In which the Winchesters meet the original breed of hunter, causing tiny ripples that turns their world on its head. And brings forth the war of change. For better or worse.

War of Change

Rating: M

THE ROAD SO FAR… The Winchesters met their bespoke Slayer, shifting the balance of their lives and unknown to them, the fate of the world. The Catalyst awakened new paths, altered goals, and shifted motivations. Like a drop in a pond transforming into a tsunami. As intended. Six Special Children survived Cold Oak. Four Slayers fought at the opening of the Devil’s Gate. One Slayer met death and lived. One Slayer confessed and vanished. All the while, two beings of undefined purpose watched and plotted. None could have predicted the drastic turn of events caused by the union of Slayers and Champions. NOW Demons and hunters scramble to make sense of the new world order. Some revel in the change. Some attempt to fix the balance. Others struggle to carry out carefully constructed plans. In the meantime, the Winchesters navigate what it means to be Champions. The Catalyst comes to understand her true gift. And the purpose of The Connected becomes clear.

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DEAN WINCHESTER

one of these nights by uncouth-the-fifth on AO3

Rating: E

“S’ a good night,” Dean tells you, beaming, “we can do another round, right?” “Hell yeah,” you shrug, and raise your empty glass, “Here’s to alcohol poisoning, baby.” “Yeah,” Dean echoes, almost slurring. “Baby."

This Curse On Our House by Sonny13 on AO3

Rating: M

Faith has battles in her bones and nothing left to lose; a dangerous combination, but perfect for a hunter. But she's got demons out for her blood, convinced she can break some kind of curse, and they call her the Child of War - whatever that means. Things might be a little easier if Dean Winchester wasn't so damn frustrating.

Toil and Trouble by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier on AO3

Rating: M

What’s the best way to infiltrate a coven? Be a witch. What does a modern witch need these days… Dean is going to be your familiar. He really wants to be a dog. He's not going to be a dog, and it works out way better and messier than either of you planned.

“Yeah, I have a Great Dean.” by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier on AO3

Rating: E

Dean is a good boy.

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CASTIEL

Angel 101 by kittenofdoomage on AO3

Rating: E

The angels are dying out in huge numbers, and Castiel, searching for a way to save Jack from being used by them, and to also save them, is called by another angel to assist in what he thinks may be the solution.

Branded by ObliviousApple on AO3

Rating: E

Basically, the first time Cas ever touches you, a brand appears on your arm. A brand that says his name in Enochian. Come along for the ride as you try to stop the apocalypse, save the Winchester's from their own idiocy, and fall in love with our favorite feathered bastard. Spoiler alert: the brand is a soulmate mark. Who saw that coming?!

David by therev on AO3

Rating: T

What if the person who found amnesiac!Cas when he stumbled out of that river in Colorado had been a man and not a woman? And what if when Dean caught up with him, he found that Cas had a husband? And what if he was a real character and not the throw-away that they made Daphne?

Empire State of Mind by saprrowed on Fanfiction.net

Rating: M

Castiel makes a friend in New York City. And like many New York sitcoms, this is a story about nothing.

Feathers by enter_the_phantom on AO3

Rating: T

The giving of feathers and the revealing of wings is a sacred act for an angel, and it's something Castiel doesn't take lightly. But if there's one human he'd enter into such a close bond with, it's Abby Singer, the Winchesters' hunting partner and adopted sibling. Whenever he's around them, he feels things he's never felt before, and as strange as these new emotions are, he doesn't want them to stop. Unfortunately for him, Abby isn't the most receptive to his presence. They've been stubbornly opposed to his awkward attempts at friendship ever since they first met. In fact, it feels like he's the only one who can't seem to forge a relationship with the prickly hunter. Even more unfortunately, it doesn't seem to matter anyway, because another angel has already beaten him to it.

Gas-n-sip by eratothemuse on AO3

Rating: E

You just needed a job. Who knew that getting one at your local Gas-n-Sip would end up like this? (Set in 9x06 “Heaven Can’t Wait”)

Guardian Angel by ZonateBiscuit on AO3

Rating: M

When you feel lost, you begin to pray. Charlie Crivens is lost, but she's not sure anyone can hear her. Slow build Castiel/OFC

I Was A Stranger And You Welcomed Me by dorkilysoulless on AO3

Rating: E

Whoever he is, he's either homeless or hitching. He's also too damn pretty not to take home.

The Love Story of the Runner Up by Margo_Kim on AO3

Rating: T

“So you saw a white man in a trench coat pop out in an alley,” Paul says, “and you thought, what, ‘I want to see where this is going’?”  “If you get hung up on details like that,” Miguel says, “it will take a very long time to get through this story. For a very weird era in his life, Miguel dates an angel who is in love with another man.

The Original Cambion by thereluctantshipper on AO3

Rating: E

Just as they're gearing up to stop the apocalypse, Bobby, Dean, Sam, and more importantly, Castiel, meet the original Cambion, a half-demon half-human hybrid. And she wants to... Help them? OFC insert, starts roughly S5E16, will not follow story all the way through.

Questions and Answers by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM) on AO3

Rating: E

Castiel is becoming increasingly uncomfortable in his vessel. He comes to you with some questions.

Where Angels Fear To Tread by OrigamiDoll on AO3

Rating: E

Reader meets the Winchesters and Castiel when they roll through town on a hunt. They inadverdently expose her to the supernatural and turn her world view upside down. Soon, her house becomes a frequent detour for the boys and a friendship begins to blossom between the reader and Team Free Will. Castiel finds himself fascinated by the reader. Where will things lead?

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CROWLEY

Dead Body Moving by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: M

Nell never expected to return from her cross-country roadtrip, but when a fellow camper goes missing during her stay at the Grand Canyon, she may live far, far longer than she expected.

Like I'm Not Made of Stone by ProlixInSpace on AO3

Rating: E

In ancient Mesopotamia, one careless death-goddess invents a cruel curse. Its singular victim can never die, but will rather live the last single year of a random human life somewhere in time, every year, forever and ever. In Hell, a belligerent soul takes centuries of abuse from Lilith herself, and is molded through her cruel tutelage into something darker, more ambitious, and cleverer by far than your standard-issue demon. A pair like that can only become more than the sum of their parts.

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GABRIEL

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) by bumbleberrysky on AO3

Rating: T

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It's something you're destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you'd thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you're suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you'd been brought here in the first place? Maybe... Chuck works in mysterious ways after all. [divergent around s13/the end of s13-- will likely have spoilers]

Along For the Ride by MyPurpleSkies on AO3

Rating: T

Danielle Awenasa Callaghan thought being a hunter was complicated enough. That is until she joins the Winchesters along for one hell of a ride that involves repeatedly saving the world from danger, falling for a Trickster that's more than he seems, hiding the fact that your godfather isn't exactly human from the boys you're beginning to see as part of your family, and discovering that she and the King of Hell share a mutual appreciation for David Bowie's music. Not to mention being told by a cupid that she's met her soul mate already. Oh, let's not forget that she nearly died and was saved by some mysterious stranger that Death refuses to tell her the identity of.

I Want to Tell you by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM) on AO3

Rating: E

He can’t tell her when she’s drunk. That wouldn’t be right. He’ll tell her tomorrow. He’ll bring her coffee and let her shower and then he’ll sit her down. Tomorrow. It’s definitely time. He has to get this off his chest and tomorrow is the day.

Kibble by The_White_Rabbit42 on AO3

Rating: T

Sam and Dean ask Gabriel to cat sit for you, and it leads to a surprising discovery.

Third Time's a Charm by The_White_Rabbit42 on AO3

Rating: E

Gabriel unexpectedly comes to your aid and reveals a part of himself you never expected to see.

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SIBLING OC

Dynamics of an Asteroid by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: T

Sam thumped a photo album down onto her desk. Beneath the thin film of dust, the cover was dark burgundy. Margo recognized it at once. “Ah.” He was here for the other reason, then. The one she’d always dreaded, even if she’d imagined it more than a few times over the years. He was here because that photo album contained pictures of Margo from the time she was born through the time she was in high school. A rare few of them even showed her together with John Winchester—Sam’s father. And also, incidentally, her father. She was not prepared for this conversation.

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CHILD OC

Along Came Sophie by LaceyoftheTypewriter on Fanfiction.net

Rating: T

Dean is still fighting supernatural crime with Sam when a pretty young plot twist named Sophie Gardner shows up claiming to be Dean's 15-year-old daughter. As she worms her way into his heart, he comes to realize what exactly he's been missing, and how far he'll go to fix what's broken.

Light of mine by TheTardyOwl on Fanfiction.net

Rating: T

A Fledgling is almost killed during one of Michael and Lucifer's explosive arguments. Gabriel steps into the role of Caretaker for the little Angel and discovers that his new charge isn't what he expected.

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PLATONIC OC

Student Housing by darkshrimpemotions on AO3

Rating: T

Sam decides to rent out rooms in the bunker to college students. Finding yourself in a housing bind just before the start of your sophomore year, you decide the dirt cheap rent is worth the risk that your landlords might be serial killers.

[i-only-ever-asked-questions]

Good Omens Through the Decades

UPDATED!

This is a timeline of all the events that have happened related to Good Omens, from its inception to its publication to its future plans; editions, adaptations, failed adaptations and the like.

I originally wanted to have this post ready for the anniversary in May, that didn't work, it just kept getting larger. Then I wanted to do it for the anniversary of Season 2 in July, that didn't work either, for the same reason. So I am just going to post it now, a random date and hope for the best LOL. And guess what? After a fun and fruitful chat with another fan who prefers to remain anonymous, I added a couple of events a few trivia here and there (thank you!). So, a little bit of warning: it is loooong, lots of things have happened in 34 years. At the beginning I was going to put all the references at the end of the post, but they are a lot, so I put them in a document instead.

*Yes, of course I am aware of the allegations. But this is about the history and the world of Good Omens which is so much bigger than one person, even if that person started the whole thing. It is ours now. It is Terry's and Rob's. It is David and Michael's, Douglas McKinnon's, David Arnold's and the rest of the cast and crew. It is Colleen Doran's, Dirk Maggs's, Terry Gilliam's, Vicki Larnach, Jim Hare and Jay James Moody's. It is Stephen Brigg's and Martin Jarvis's. And so many other people who have brought or will bring its many iterations to life. It is the fans'.

1985-1990 - The Book

1985, Jan - Terry and Neil met for the first time when Neil interviewed Terry for Space Voyager magazine after "The Colour of Magic" was published [1,2] *For years they both wholeheartedly believed it had been at a Chinese Restaurant during February. Some time after Terry passed away Neil found his diary for 1985 where the entry said it had been in January at an Italian Restaurant [3]

1987, summer - Neil wrote the first 5000 words of a story and sent it to a few friends, including Terry; "An exchange in Marlowe’s The Jew of Malta, combined with a late night viewing of The Omen and a love of Richmal Compton’s immortal Just William stories, had put a story into my head, about a demonic baby-swap that goes wrong, in which the Antichrist grows up to be a nice kid, with a dog and a gang" [1,4]

1987, Oct - Sandman began and William the Antichrist went into the back back back burner [1]

1988, spring? summer? - Terry called Neil and offered to either buy the idea or write it together; "About a year later I took it out of the drawer and did see what happened next, even if I couldn’t see how it all ended yet" [5]

1988, summer - They wrote it together (do you really need a reference? 😉)

1988-1989 - First draft took about nine weeks. After Richmal Compton's estate did not reply to the request of using William Brown and his world, William became Adam, Pepper and War became female and the book got a new title (Good Omens by Neil) and subtitle (The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch by Terry). The second draft took about four months. There were still about five more months of polishing and editing and auctioning and more editing [4,6] *Good Omens was the first Terry book that ever went to auction. It ended up going for £150,000 [7]

1989, Halloween - During the World Fantasy Convention in Seattle, Terry and Neil started plotting what could become the sequel to Good Omens and called it "668 The Neighbor of the Beast" [6,8] *The real-life experience of trying to piece together the plot of a soft porn movie using little free increments from hotels' pay-per-view over time probably made it into the sequel around here [7]

1990, May 10. Book published in the UK - Hardback published in the UK by Victor Gollancz (with whom Terry had already been working) to be followed by paperback by Corgi on May 23, 1991 [8,9] *After the first UK edition was published (Gollancz), several changes were made to the text to make it easier on US readers and to polish it a bit. The new text was used by both the US publishers (Workman) and the UK publishers of the paperback (Corgi). Gollancz was unaware of this alternate text until about 2009. They started using the Workman/Corgi text starting with their next edition in 2014 [9]

1990, Sep. Book published in the US - Hardback published in the US by Workman to be followed by paperback by Berkley on March 1992 [9,10] *UK editions list Terry's name first and US editions list Neil's name first. This was done because Terry was more known in the UK and Neil was more known in the US [7]

1991-2004 - The Movies

1991, Feb - Hollywood Studio Sovereign Pictures hired Terry and Neil to write an adaptation of the book for a movie. The studio had some specific requirements such as Crowley owning a night club, Aziraphale working as a curator for the British Museum, Tadfield with an abandoned pier and a miniature town in it and Satan. They ended up rejecting the script anyway [11] *It was at this point that Terry suggested Buddy Holly's "Every Day" as the theme for Good Omens. In this script some of the angels used for the series got started like Gabriel and Sandalphon and a big sequence had them use their haloes like frisbees inside the British Museum [11,12,13]

1992, Jan. Movie Script - Terry declined to write a second script, but Neil stayed and wrote one. In October the company got taken over and all dreams of a movie died [11,14] *In this script Crowley tries to run away to Alpha Centauri

2001-2002. Terry Gilliam Movie deal - Since about 1999, when he obtained the rights, and throughout the 00's Terry Gilliam tried hard to make a movie. The closest he came to it was in 2001-2002 when he got as far as casting the parts (Johnny Depp as Crowley, Robin Williams as Aziraphale, Mme. Tracey and Hastur, and Kirsten Dunst). But he couldn't get a US studio to invest the last $15M and the movie project collapsed [13,15,16] *Terry had received, back in 1989, a copy of the book asking for a blurb. The letter got lost and he thought the book had been sent as a pitch for a movie [16,17]

2004, Jun 20th - Hill House Publishers created the "Neil Gaiman's Preferred Edition Series" with limited editions of American Gods, Anansi Boys and Neverwhere. As a bonus for the subcribers, Hill House printed the 1992 movie script under the name "A Screenplay." Only 500 numbered and 52 lettered copies were ever made [11,18]

2005-2010 - The Sequel (and the Audiobooks)

2005, Jun - Terry and Neil met at the Audie Awards in New York and plotted a little more of the sequel. This was when the South Downs bit was thought up [19,20]

2005, Dec. Crowley and Aziraphale's New Year's resolutions - The list of resolutions came out sometime between Christmas and New Year's at Harper Collins' website [7] *The well-known idea of Crowley gluing coins to the sidewalk is not in the book at all, it came from this list

2006, Feb 28. New edition - The book was reissued in the US as a hardcover in two different versions. The text is the same but one version has a white cover with Crowley and Neil's name listed first, and a second version has a black cover with Aziraphale and Terry's name listed first [7,21] *This time the explanation for the authors' name order was to make sure the book could be found both under "G" and also under "P"

2006, Jul. Briggs Audiobook - ISIS released in the UK an unabridged audiobook read by Stephen Briggs in CD, MP3CD and cassette (it won the 2008 Audiobook Download of the Year by audible.co.uk) [22,23]

2009, Nov 10. Jarvis Audiobook - HarperAudio released in the US an unabridged audiobook read by Martin Jarvis in CD [24] *Martin Jarvis is the same narrator who recorded the Just William audiobooks, a nice Easter egg related to the origins of the book

2010, Sep 23 - Terry and Neil had dinner at a sushi restaurant in Cardiff and decided that the book should be adapted as a TV series and not a movie anymore (as per Terry Gilliam's advice). And if it goes well, the rest of the story, the unwritten sequel, should be adapted too [8,13,15] *It was around here that the idea of the sushi restaurant cameo with both of them being patrons started

2011-2013 - The Stage (and a failed TV series)

2011, Feb. Terry Jones TV series - Terry and Neil agreed to a deal to adapt the book into a four-part TV series made by Terry Jones and Gavin Scott. At the end they didn't quite like the script though [13,25,26]

2012, Jun - Amy Hoff's The Cult Classic Theatre was granted permission to adapt the book to a stage play [27] *One of the conditions was that no footage would be taken/made available and the script would not be shared/sold

2012, Aug- Narrativia was established as the production company that would handle all of Terry's work adaptations. The production of the TV series and of The Watch were then transferred from Prime Focus [28,29] *Narrativia was first revealed at "The Watch Team Interview" panel during the Discworld 2012 convention on Aug, 26th [28]

2013, Mar. Stage Play - Amy Hoff's play was presented on March 20-23 and 27-30 at the Cottiers Theatre in Glasgow [30]

2013, Apr - BBC drama producer Heather Larmour pitched a radio drama adaptation to the BBC [31]

2013, sometime. The Musical - Vicki Larnarch and Jim Hare, "two hippies from Sydney", had met with Terry and Rob about six months prior. Terry's interest had gotten piqued when they showed him The Chattering Order Nuns song and he asked them to come back with a showstopper and a few more songs. They came back with "All Living Things" and they got the green light to go forward with the adaptation [32]

2013, Dec 11 - In a meeting at The Groucho Club, Terry and Neil enter into talks with the BBC to adapt GO to TV [33]

2014-2015 - The Radio Drama

2014, summer - Dirk Maggs adapted the book into a Radio Drama and gave Terry and Neil a cameo as police officers pursuing Crowley [31,34] *In July, Neil advised Dirk to get Terry's recording asap, before he couldn't do it anymore. They did it in the summer and that day ended up being the last day Neil and Terry saw each other [35]. The rest of the recording happened during autumn [13]

2014, Aug - Terry asked Neil to make the TV adaptation of Good Omens, "I know, Neil, that you are very, very busy, but no one else could ever do it with the passion that we share for the old girl. I wish I could be more involved, and I will help in any way I can" [12] Neil, of course, said yes

2014, Dec. BBC Radio 4 Dramatisation - The six episodes aired between December 22nd and December 27th, 2014 on BBC Radio 4 [36]

2015, Jan 15 - Random House UK released the BBC Radio 4 Dramatisation in CD [37]

2015-2019 - The TV series (and some luxury limited editions)

2015, Mar 12 - Terry passed away 😢

2015, Mar 25 - Terry's funeral. As soon as Neil got back home, he started writing the script for the TV series [12] *Sometimes signed copies of the third draft of the pilot (dated 25 July 2015) appear in eBay

2015 - Jay James-Moody joined the team to produce the musical [32]

2016, Aug 1 - First read-through of the series script [38] *The scripts were finalized right before SDCC 2016 which was held July 21st-24th [39]. Both Maggie Service and Tim Downie were present in this read-through [40]

2017, Sep 18 - 2018, Mar 10. Season 1 shooting - Season 1 started shooting at St. James' park (with the 11 years ago scene) and ended in Cape Town, South Africa [13,41,42] *The read-through before shooting occurred on Sept 13, 2017 [43]

2017, Nov 13 - Full development reading of the musical at the York Theatre in Chippendale, Sydney, Australia [32,44]

2019, Feb 8 - The social media campaign to promote Season 1 started with a tour of the Chattering Order of St. Beryl, an acapella choir that traveled to different cities for events and TV shows [45,46]

2019, Apr 25. The Chattering Order of St. Beryl's video - The video "That Brand New Baby Smell" was released in YouTube [47]

2019, May 3 and 4 - Workshop production of the musical at IPAC in Wollongong, Australia. About ten days before the series premiere Vicki, Jim and Jay showed Neil and Rob a recording of this show [32,44,48] *Although a full recording of the workshop exists, they are not allowed to share it until it is finished

2019, May 21. Companion Book - A companion book to the TV series with interviews and behind the scenes photographs written by Matt Whyman was published by William Morrow [49]

2019, May 21. The Script Book - Headline Publishing Group released a script book in both hardback and paperback (The US edition by William Morrow followed on Jun 11th). All editions of the script book include an "Other Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse" deleted scene. An exclusive edition for Waterstones included an additional deleted scene (Aziraphale in the 1800). A hardback edition limited to 1000 copies with white cover included four different deleted scenes (thugs visiting the bookshop, Leonardo DaVinci, the televangelist and Crowley clothes shopping) and a series of sketches made on set by Lorna May Wadsworth. On Jan 15th of 2020, a paperback edition with the white cover was released; it contained all five deleted scenes from the other editions and a sixth one (Aziraphale trying to sell a book); this edition does not include the sketches however. [9,50] *The script book was created so the production could pay for the death of Agnes Nutter, a scene (and a character) originally written by Terry which was too expensive to film [3]

2019, May 23. The Illustrated Edition - The Pratchett Estate and Neil agreed on a revised definitive text. It was published in five versions collectively called the Definitive Edition. Two versions were published by Gollancz which they called the Illustrated Edition; a standard hardback with black cover and a limited edition in a slipcase with white cover signed by Paul Kidby, the illustrator [51,52]

2019, May 30. "Unholy Night" - The Chattering Order of St. Beryl's released their album "Unholy Night" on Amazon Music and other digital platforms [53]

2019, May 31. TV Series - Season 1 premiered in Prime Video 😊

2019, May 31. Soundtrack - Silva Screen Records released the soundtrack in CD, vinyl and mp3/wav download [54]

2019, Jul. The Definitive Edition - The other three versions of the revised text were published by Dunmanifestin, the company established by the Pratchett Estate to handle Terry's intellectual property. All editions were limited: The Occult Edition (July 1st) with only 1655 copies in a black clamshell box, the Ineffable Edition (July 4th) with 666 copies in a deluxe box including ephemera, and the Celestial Edition, made to order with only 24 copies [52,55]

2019, Aug 2. The BBC Radio Drama Collectors Edition - A vinyl box set by Demon Records included four LPs printed in black and white in illustrated wallets, commentaries by Neil and Dirk and a set of tarot cards. An Amazon exclusive limited edition of 500 sets also included a print signed by Neil [56]

2019, Aug - Neil pitched Season 2 to Amazon [57]

2019, Oct 28. Blu-ray and DVD - Amazon released the series in DVD, Blu-ray and steelbook limited edition Blu-ray (PAL) for the UK. The US version (NSTC) followed on November 5th in both DVD and Blu-ray, there was no steelbook edition for the US market [58]

2019, Dec - John Finnemore joined as co-writer of Season 2 [57] *In this meeting, John stated that he needed to know the ending before he could write so Neil came up with the ending of Season 2 in about 5 minutes right there and then

2020-2025 - TV Series Season 2, a new Audiobook and some other adjacent projects

2020, May 1st. Lockdown Video - A short video about a phonecall between Crowley and Aziraphale was created by Narrativia and The Blank Corporation for the 30th anniversary of the book. It was released in the the official YouTube account of the Terry Pratchett Estate (@terrypratchett6025) [59]

2020, summer - Neil started writing the script for Season 2 beginning with the opening scene for episode 1 [57] *The last scene written was Gabriel organizing the books by first letter of first line. It was planned as the last scene for Episode 2 but at the end got moved to another place [60]

2020, Sep 16 - Season 2 was officially greenlit (along with Anansi Boys) [61]

2021, Mar 26 - The Hillywood Show announced the Good Omens parody project [62]

2021, Jun 29 - Amazon announced Season 2 in a press release [63]

2021, Oct 18 - 2022, Mar 1. Season 2 shooting - Season 2 started shooting in the Bathgate studio. Some scenes were shot on location in different parts of Edinburgh and other areas [64,65] *The read-through happened over October 14th and 15th, three episodes per day [66], David had to attend via zoom since he was still in isolation from Georgia's covid [67]. On the other hand, Michel McKean (Shadwell in Season 1) was present for that zoom read-through but had to be drop out also for covid reasons [68]. Peter Davison (David's-father-in law) was asked to play Job's part after shooting had started (possibly replacing Michael McKean?) and Ty Tennant (David's son) was cast too after shooting had started but through audition [69]. Maggie Service was in the very first shot of the season and also in the last day, first one in last one out as she said [70]

2021, Nov 2. Full Cast Audiobook - HarperAudio released in the US a full cast audiobook with Michael Sheen as Aziraphale and David Tennant as Crowley. The audiobook was later released in the UK on January 14th, 2022 [71,72] *The original cover for the audiobook was designed by Henry Sene Yee; a lavender background with drawings of Crowley and Aziraphale facing away from each other. After Season 2 was released, the cover changed to one of the promotional posters [73]

2023, Mar 15. Good Omens HQ - The Terry Pratchett Estate and Neil Gaiman created Good Omens Headquarters. The headquarters launched official accounts in several social media platforms and a website that keeps track of collector's items as they are being revealed [74]

2023, May 10. Good Omens Parody - The Hillywood Show's parody premiered in their YouTube channel (thehillywoodshow) [75] *Amazon Video partnered with Hillywood to announce the premiere date for Season 2 within their parody video. Neil, Maggie Service and Daniel Mays appeared as guests

2023, Jul 28. TV Series Season 2 - Season 2 premiered in Prime Video 😊 *As part of the promo campaign two days before the premiere, Amazon screened the first two episodes in cinemas in several cities free for Amazon Prime members

2023-2024 - The Graphic Novel

2023, Aug 1. Graphic Novel - The Kickstarter campaign to fund the graphic novel adaptation with Colleen Doran as illustrator launched [76] *At its closure, 36,867 backers had pledged £2,419,973 (notice it is pounds, not dollars)

2023, Aug 25. Season 2 Soundtrack - Silva Screen Records released the soundtrack for season 2 in CD, vinyl and mp3/wav download [54]

2023, Dec 14 - Season 3 was officially greenlit [77]

2024, Apr 18 - The Graphic Novel Pledgemanager site launches for people who missed the Kickstarter campaign or to add extras to an already existing pledge [78]

2024, Jul 13 - Vicki Larnach, Jim Hare and Jay James Moody appeared as virtual guests at Nullus Anxietas 9, the Australian Discworld Convention 2024 held in Adelaide, to talk about recent push for the musical [79]

2025 - The Future

2025, January - Season 3 is scheduled to begin filming [80]

2025, Spring - Graphic novel is scheduled to be released [76] *The original release date was in July of 2024, however in April of 2024 it was announced that it would need to be pushed to the Spring of 2025 (Update #20)

There should be a special mention of a fan created musical parody for YouTube that was in development in Russia by 62Media. This was completely fan made and not connected to the Pratchett Estate, Neil, the BBC or Amazon (which is why it is not in the list). Unfortunately it had to shut down due to COVID [81]

Fun fact: During the tour to promote the book, back in 1989-1990 the song "Shoehorn With Teeth" by They Might Be Giants became the unofficial anthem of the tour since that is what they always ended up singing when things went too crazy [82]

[hornyhornyhimbos]

"Love Potion No. 9" ~ J. Byers

Summary: When you and Jonathan visit a witch on your hunt for something supernatural, you don't expect to leave with ever-growing arousal between your legs.

Pairing: Supernatural Hunter!Jonathan Byers x Supernatural Hunter!AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,106

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content) unprotected piv sex, cowgirl activities, car sex, love potion/aphrodisiac consumption, dry humping for a second, explicit language, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: does this read a little bit like a Supernatural fanfic? maybe. but i can't be blamed when Jonathan just feels so Winchester-coded.

Originally Written: 10/12/2023

stranger things masterlist can be found here!

halloweek masterlist can be found here!

Neither of you were quite sure how it happened, but your latest hunt had led you into the home of a witch. Low-hanging ferns and wind chimes and twinkly lights filled the area, the scent of frankincense heavy in the small space.

"Don't mind the smell," she'd said, "Figured I should cast some sort of protection over my home with that thing running loose."

After talking with the woman for a while, you and Jonathan had both silently come to a mutual conclusion: that this thing was a werewolf, and a rabid one at that, and it wouldn't stop until it had consumed as much blood as possible.

"Would you mind if we grabbed a bottle of water?" you asked, standing up from your spot on the lumpy sofa.

The witch shook her head. "Not at all, dear. Kitchen's just through that doorway. I think I'm gonna go have a quick smoke out on the porch." Your brows furrowed at her statement, but she quickly rebutted, "I'll be fine. I keep a gun by the door and I'll use my frankincense spray to help ward him off."

And with that, she was headed out the front door, leaving you and Jonathan to yourselves.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Jon asked, leading the way into the kitchen.

"Werewolf?" you asked, arms folding in front of your chest.

He gave you a quick nod, opening the fridge and pulling out two water bottles. "Yeah, and a rabid one at that."

"Which means there's probably another one close by that gave it to him," you commented. You quickly grabbed one of the bottles from him and took a long drag of the liquid. It had been hours since you'd stopped for food or drink or gas, and the water was like nectar from the gods to your desperate and deprived taste buds.

Jonathan chuckled at your behavior, but took a long drink from his own bottle. After gulping down the liquid, he concurred, "That's what I'm thinking too."

"So, how do we find them?"

He shrugged. "Wait. The wolves around here only come out at night so we wait until sundown, then hope to God that we're right about where they're hunting."

After a few minutes had passed, the lady had joined you back in the house, leading the two of you back into the living room. As the conversation carried on, you started to feel a strange, warm tingle in your belly. You attempted to shake off the feeling, but your body heat picked up and the feeling grew stronger.

"Jon," you whispered into his ear, "can we please go? I'm not feeling well."

Jonathan had a sort of flushed look to his face, and you assumed he must've been experiencing a feeling similar to yours. As you stood, he quickly side-stepped behind you, almost strategically placing you in front of him.

You both managed a rushed goodbye before heading out to the car, the warmth in your stomach quickly turning into a feeling you could identify— arousal.

The ride was silent, save for the tape playing quietly on the radio. Your legs clenched together involuntarily as a familiar wetness formed between them. Curiosity got the better of you as you looked over at Jon, who was white-knuckling the steering wheel like his life depended on it.

You came to a stop at the end of the nearly abandoned road, no other cars in sight as Jonathan approached the stop sign. He shot you a quick look, trying to act as casual as he could. "You alright?"

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat, nodding much more enthusiastically than you should have. "Yeah, I'm totally fine." A heavy silence took over the air for a couple seconds before you awkwardly asked, "What about you?"

He quickly nodded as well, avoiding eye contact with you. "Yeah, I'm good."

Another round of heavy silence came over the small space, Jonathan opting to break it by clearing his throat. He mumbled something to himself as he started to take off again, the car gradually gliding toward a speed bump.

You tried your best to hold it in, but it was almost compulsory the way a moan flew out of you when the speed bump caused your jeans to hit your core in just the right spot.

Jonathan hit the brakes right there in the middle of the road, an erratic look coming across his face. "You too?!" he asked in surprise.

You knew it would do you no good to lie, not after the way your mouth had just betrayed you. "You think she put something in that water?"

Sweat was cascading down both of your faces, each of your breathing already speeding up. "I don't know," he answered, his expression changing to one of shyness. "What are we gonna do?"

You thought for a moment, quickly going over your options. You could wait it out, but that might be miserable. You supposed you could pull over and one of you go into the woods, discreetly giving you both time to get yourselves off, but that would chance one of you getting taken by something in that clearly haunted forest. The third option was one you truly hated to think, but you supposed it might be your best bet.

"Quick, get me that dropper out of the trunk. It's in the case with my dagger."

He pulled off to the side of the road, giving you a questioning look. "Why-"

You all but pushed him out of the car, urging him to not ask questions. While he grabbed the dropper, you unscrewed the lid to both bottles of water. When he got back, you dropped a tiny dab of the liquid in the tube down into the bottles of water. You watched as the water turned a bright sapphire blue, knowing all too well what it meant.

"Fuck," you exclaimed exasperatedly, your hand meeting your temple.

Jonathan met you with a confused look, brows furrowed tight together. "What? What does that mean?"

"That bitch gave us a serum of desire."

"A what?"

You sighed, though you couldn't ignore the growing feeling of arousal as you looked into his eyes. "It's a potion to make us realize our deepest desires."

He went from confused to downright dumbfounded. "So, our deepest desire is… each other?" You nodded in reply. "Well, what do we do?"

"We have no choice but to confront our deepest desire. It's the only way it'll wear off."

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, shock and lust wafting through the air as heavily as the frankincense had earlier. You tried to think of any other way to make the potion wear off, but deep down, you knew there was only one way to get rid of this feeling.

"So…" he said, the word lingering.

"So…" you repeated.

Jonathan was the first to make a move, which surprised you, given his hatred of confrontation. "Can I… kiss you? I-In the backseat?"

He didn't have to ask twice. You were practically shoving him into the tiny backseat, climbing on top of him in record speed. The idea of doing this with him had you embarrassed, given your practically life-long crush on the man, but at the current moment, the serum was working hard to dilute all thoughts of rationality.

Your lips connected, heavy breaths flowing out of your mouth and into his as his hands landed on your waist. He pulled you down the expanse of his thigh, guiding your center along his denim-clad leg. Your hips were grinding all on their own, a moan slipping from your kiss-swollen lips as your jeans brushed your clit just right.

"Do you wanna," he started to say, being cut off by a needy kiss, "get off like this? Because this," another kiss, "is perfectly fine to me."

You shook your head, your tongue slipping between his parted lips as you continued humping his leg, your pleasure already nearing its peak. "Need more, please."

Your fingers slipped into his hair, tugging at the light brown strands and eliciting an absolutely beautiful noise from the man underneath you. You wanted to bottle that noise up and play it on repeat for hours, music to your ears.

He made quick work of his jeans, sliding them down just enough to release his cock. You moaned at the sight, torn between taking it in your mouth or putting it exactly where you needed it. The latter won as you made quick work of your own pants, Jonathan letting out another one of those gorgeous sounds at the sight of your wetness.

Without any resistance on your part, he was lowering you down his length, his head falling back against the car door. "Oh, holy fuck," he sighed, his eyes going glassy. Your hands moved to his bangs, moving the sweat-sticky hair away from his eyes to give you both an unobstructed view of each other.

You were the first to move, nearly cumming right then as the head of his cock brushed against that wonderful spot inside of you. Labored breaths filled the air as the two of you began to create the perfect rhythm between your bodies, his balls slapping against you every time you slid back down his length.

Your lips reconnected as you rocked up and down on him, tongues roaming freely inside one another's mouth. The car was undeniably rocking, anyone who drove past would know exactly what you were doing, but the slight movement had him bucking up into you even harder, and secretly you were thankful you'd decided to do this here.

Your hand roamed down to one of his, bringing his calloused fingers to your clit. "Touch me, right there, please," you all but begged, guiding his fingertips in the exact rhythm you craved them.

The pad of his thumb was rough, but only brought your orgasm closer. His opposite hand moved to grab the supple skin of your hip, guiding you along his cock and bringing him closer to the edge as well.

Your own hands gripped his shoulders for dear life as your climax washed over you, your cunt sucking him deeper inside you as your legs began to shake. "Shit, Jonathan," you whined, your hips speeding in hopes of bringing him to his own release.

"Fuck, where do you need it?" he groaned, his dick throbbing inside of you.

"What?" you breathed heavily, still working yourself through possibly the best orgasm you'd ever felt.

"Can I cum inside you?" he asked, somewhere between begging and demanding.

All words left your body as his finger continued to work at your swollen clit, so you simply opted for a nod of the head.

As if on cue, he was filling you up with every last drop of his seed, both of your bodies falling limp against each other. "Oh, my God," he sighed, his breath hot as it fanned around your ear.

The serum was already wearing off your body, realizing what you'd done. You wanted to enjoy this moment, to just be with him, but you couldn't deny the logical thoughts that had started to flood back into your mind. "Oh, my God," you repeated, nearly a whisper as you lay on his chest.

"We really just did that, didn't we?" he asked, a hand moving up to brush softly over your hair.

You let out a soft, amused huff as your eyes finally met his again. You swore you saw his eyes sparkling as he looked at you, an expression of adoration coming over his features. "I guess we did," you laughed lightly.

"Are you mad about it?" Jon asked, his tone seeming genuine.

This time, your brows furrowed. "Why would I be mad?"

He chuckled, leaning to kiss your cheek. "Just checking to see if you'll kill me the next time I ask to kiss you in the backseat of my car."

Another amused giggle fell from your lips. "I wouldn't dare. You're too valuable to kill, no matter if we enjoyed ourselves back here or not."

A playful pout flashed across his face. "Are you saying you didn't enjoy yourself? Because it seemed to me," he paused, moving to suck a harsh kiss on your collarbone, eliciting a gasp from you, "like you were really, really enjoying yourself."

"How long until sundown?" you asked, all breath escaping your lungs for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Jonathan spared a quick glance at his watch. "Probably another half hour, maybe forty-five minutes if we're lucky."

"Better make it count, then."

-> taglist: @ducky-died-inside @aftermidnightwriting @esoltis280

[i-am-still-bb]

Treat for 22/10:

One of them is a modern witch and an owner of a famous potions recipe blog. The other one is a bit of a fanboy / just trying not to get his eyebrows synged off…

A/N: Originally conceived as an AU of The World Next Door. That had me stuck though. So we have this. But it still has similar elements, age gap, instructor/student dynamic, etc.

—

Fili drummed his fingers on the walnut conference table. One. Finger. At. A. Time. Focusing on how there were pits in the wood and some scratches in the varnish beneath his fingertips.

“Do you have any ideas?”

The silence following the question stretched on a beat too long and Fili knew he was supposed to answer. “Can you rephrase the question?”

“Enrollment numbers are dropping.”

“I’d noticed.”

“We need better student engagement and retention. Do you have any ideas? You are the most junior member of staff.” That last part was a thinly veiled dig and threat.

Fili shrugged, brushing off the words, “We could try putting some stuff on social media, teasers, sneak peeks, behind the scenes stuff. Stories about how potions and other magic sometimes go awry.”

Frowns appeared on the tenured track professors’ faces as soon as the words “social media” had left his mouth. This is why he rarely spoke up during these things. He kept his head down, did his research, lectured, and quickly attended conferences and published. 

Alice, the other young faculty member, specializing in potions that assisted in the growing of plants, clapped her hands. “My students would love something like that,” she grinned. “And I think it would do them good to see us as human, to see that we also make mistakes and singe our eyebrows and armchairs off.”

The department head looked skeptical. “It is an ‘interesting’ idea,” Fili could hear the air quotes around the word. “I think one of you younger people should be in charge. And as Ms. Yu is already assisting the Archives in their project then it should be you, if you don’t mind.

Fili did mind. Very much in fact. 

“It shouldn’t take that much time, maybe an hour a week,” the Head continued. 

And that was how a decade later Fili found himself spending more time on social media (Instagram, TikTok, and the like) promoting the university more broadly and the potions department specifically. 

He had asked for an assistant and was denied. 

It was fun. 

Sometimes. 

But other times he was just answering basic questions, or telling people “NO! ABSOLUTELY DO NOT MIX THOSE THINGS TOGETHER!” and then hoping that they actually listened.

Most of the time he was typing up replies, proofreading, posting, recording response videos, without paying much attention to the usernames that came across his screen. Sometimes there was one that would strike him as particularly ridiculous or clever; he would screenshot it, crop it, and save it to a special folder on his computer. He did the same with responses that made him give up home for humanity. 

But then there was one user, K.O.A.K., who asked questions that often made Fili pause and wonder and sometimes his only response was “I don’t know” even after he did some research and some serious thinking. 

They had a video chain going back at least six months at this point. 

Fili’s videos were well-lit against a carefully chosen background from a tripod; all courtesy of a performing arts student who interned for him for a semester. Really, she had bullied him into letting her do an unpaid internship. She was a double major and she said that the content of his videos were fantastic, but everything else was tragic. 

So now part of Fili’s large office / workspace was permanently set up for filming videos.

K.O.A.K.’s videos were probably worse that Fili’s had started out as. He always held his phone which sometimes made Fili nauseous while the user tossed ingredients into a travel sized cauldron that sat on a stove that had a single burner and plugged into a wall outlet. The wooden table it sat on was scarred from mishaps and frequently littered with ingredients, snacks, dust, and the occasional iced coffee cup of varying fullness. 

K.O.A.K. never showed his face. 

His hands featured in nearly every video. Sometimes his bare feet (which Fili had scolded him for, “What if you spill [insert potion here]? Or it boils over?” K.O.A.K.’s only response had been laughter, and to show off a fairly impressive old scar on his shin from just that thing happening) appeared. 

Fili shared tricks for making a potion that temporarily improved hand dexterity. “Roast the willow root before cutting it into thin 1 inch strips.”

K.O.A.K.  responded with a video demonstrating the differences between his original potion, one following Fili’s tip, and then one where he had added some olive oil to the foil packet before roasting, and then had roughly minced the root. 

Fili amended his notes.

He toyed with the idea of sharing his phone number as they starting talking about more than just tips and tricks for potions. But decided against it. This account operated in an official capacity. And it was probably bad enough that he was carrying on personal conversations through it. 

But he did notice that the twinge of excitement he got when he saw a notification form K.O.A.K. was the same as the one he would get early on in a new relationship. He had more than a little bit of a crush. It was merely academic, or so he told himself. He did not often get to talk about potions with anyone else.

—

Direct Messages between You (Prof.Durin) and K.O.A.K.

You: Why don’t you have a degree in this? You’re better than some of my grad students.

IDK.

You: You should apply to Erebor’s program. 

I don’t think they’d take me. I never took those ridiculous tests.

You: I’ll get them waived.

… I may not have finished secondary school

You: I’ll see what I can do.

—

Fili dismissed the class early. The first day of a new semester was always short. Most of his students were out of their seats and out the door before Fili had finished wiping down the whiteboard. Except for one. He was standing by the lectern, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Did you have a question?”

The student shook his head. “I just wanted to introduce myself.”

Fili consulted his attendance sheet for a moment, “It’s Killian Oaks, right? If you would prefer something else, I can certainly do that. I just don’t have a note from the college about anything like that for you.”

“It is. But that’s not how you’d know me.”

Fili frowned in thought, one hand splayed over his papers on the desk. There was the niggle in the back of his brain that told him he was missing something.”

“You’d know me as . . .”

--

Taglist: Everything: @silvermoon-scrolls Fili/Kili: @dubhlachen

[iteh3xael]

Witchcraft Ask Game

What drew you to witchcraft?

Old bestie in HS was into it (we bonded over Charmed) and then had a REALLY weird series of run ins once I graduated college and did some psychedelics. Remembered I used to lucid dream and was fascinated by the Christian Book of Revelation as a CHILD and that kind of all merging into the queer pagan I find myself today.

2. Do you follow a specific witchcraft tradition, or are you eclectic?

I have a whole theory on DND and how witchcraft plays into that and how we basically are imbued with the power of our namesake and then the rest of kind of based on whatever you're exposed to and I'm not saying crystals will straight up give you super powers but like, runes have meaning and maybe don't fuck the stalachtite

3. Do you believe in the Threefold Law or karma in witchcraft?

There's something to be said about consequences to actions and the 2nd Law of Newton (equal and opposite) and 1st Law of Thermo (energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred) that definitely applies. FMA also taught me about fucking with life and death magic and you gotta be REALLY careful with what you ask for because the universe is VERY finicky.

4/5. What advice would you give to someone who feels called to witchcraft but is unsure where to begin?

Gonna self plug a post here about things I wish I knew when I started (everyone actually practices to a degree, it's just become really archaic to exist in a present fashion while also embracing the wonderment of things like dreams.

6. Have you ever had a dream or vision that felt prophetic?

Used to! Don't as much but I think it's a skill. Some people naturally have premonitions through dreams and mine are more like vivid intrusive thoughts that play through my head and I have to figure out which is actually useful.

7. What do you think of Aleister Crowley?

Ngl had to Google who that was because I don't really follow many contemporary people and knew he was a "magician" of sorts but I don't take any stock in orgs like the Free Masons or even Satanism even if I think there's probably ~something~ there. He was clearly smart enough to make it work but idk how much is just really smart social engineering (he was a spy, afterall) and a smattering of esoteric networking that led to him being fairly successful at whatever his craft was

8. Do you think witches can create their own deities?

So... I think witches occupy a kind of weird realm/dimension (on my scale it's on like, the 6th degree akin to the "inverted" dimension where we would think of them being akin to IRL angels) and so our calling is rooted in whatever incarnation pulls from original sources. Our names have power and "create" the source of inspiration (deities, gods, spirits, w/e) hence why we "choose" them when "coming out" as a way of embracing our sense of servitude to a higher being outside of our general sense of self.

9. How do you feel about people worshiping deities from pop culture?

Sure, why not lol.

10. What’s your opinion on the idea that "all magic comes with a cost"?

Ohhh yes yes yes. Hence why I affirm that people need to be serious about their approach to science as magic is just when science and art come together perfectly (think of siren's and their songs, beauty inspiring wars, love SAVING people).

11. What’s the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you during a spell?

For years, I had never done a spell with another person before and kind of just fucked around and using objects that I figured would have SOME use, I just didn't know what for.

For instance: there was this ridiculous rubber ducky I got from some rando woman at a hotel from a work thing I was at in bumfuck Pennsylvania where she basically FORCED it upon me after I literally said no and tried to give it back but they were SO insistent despite being a complete stranger. I HATE having useless shit and usually just throw it away immediately but I didn't want to be rude so I threw it into my bag and kind of forgot about it.

Anyway, fast forward to me visiting my old bestie (mentioned prior) talking about The Craft while I'm unpacking my bag and how I never could seem to figure out spells while at the SAME time, being like "Oh hey! Do you want this rubber ducky?"

They flipped their shit because, there is a VERY particular spell about rubber duckies and not just finding one, a portion of the spell reads:

"...presented by hand, in a way that's select

a peculiar find, to earn the craft's respect"

and since then we did a spell about keys that still kind of haunts me to this day so uh... be careful y'all lol

12. If you could cast one spell right now, what would it be and why?

A relationship healing spell. Any help would be greatly appreciated. <8

13. What’s your belief on the afterlife, and how does it affect your spiritual practices?

I definitely think there's another realm out there and I try to just be present with what comes my way since this reality is already full of surprises. I really don't do any major spirit work because I kind of have a deep seated respect where the sense of awe is a bit terrifying so I just kinda see where it takes me and ask mindful questions.

14. What’s your opinion on the importance of connecting with the land in witchcraft?

Plz touch more grass lol If the elements of the Earth (AT LEAST FOUR of them aren't present when approaching a situation, you might need to recenter.

15. How do you feel about using magic to influence others?

Whether we like it or not, magic will ALWAYS be used to influence (literally just think of money or words as a concept). We have a duty to be responsible wielders for we are practitioners in a Dark Art that has a reputation for being misconstrued as evil. Embrace all the shades and don't be shy from the glimmers from the light :3

16. What’s your opinion on hexing or cursing?

I would advise against it though my namesake literally deals with them so uh, just be wise.

17. Do you believe in spiritual psychosis?

I want to say yet but honestly unsure of the full scope of the question so... TBD?

[countrymusiclover]

10 - The Original Coffins

Part 11

Gemini Runaway

@dragonixfrye

Typing away at the phone number my cousin Jo had given me in case I ever wanted to talk with her and not use magic I pressed the phone to my ear. “Jo, it’s me. I understand if you are busy or something. But I have a magic question and you’re the only witch I can trust. Call me back when you can.” Hanging up the phone I heard footsteps coming up the stairs meaning it must have been Klaus.

He has been bickering with Stefan Salvatore after he had stolen the coffins that apparently held his remaining family members. But nothing had really happened in getting their safe return. Walking out of my room I followed him into the hallway seeing that his hands were clutching into fists at his sides. “I’m in no mode for company, Raelyn.”

“What happened this time? Maybe I can help you instead of threatening anyone in this town who actually knows where they are.” I offered thinking that the reason he couldn’t find them was because they were using another witch.

He ran a hand through his hair slumping his shoulders thinking for a moment. “It could be possible, Raelyn. What exactly do you have in mind to help me?”

“Simple locator spell. I used your blood since you are holding your other siblings. Since they share the same blood of your mother with you I’ll be able to find them.” I responded walking past him drawing a small dagger that I had used to cut my palm to do spells and one of the maps, gesturing for his palm once I placed the map on the bedside table in my bedroom. “Give me your hand please.”

He extended his hand where I held it over the map wrapping my fingers around his siphoning some magic from him. He winced slightly watching me turn his palm open, slicing the knife across allowing the blood to drip onto the map. “Why are you helping me exactly. Normally I have to force people to help me but you, you’re willing why?”

“Like I said once before, if anyone came after my brother I would probably do the same thing you are doing now shhh I have to concentrate…” I replied telling him to be quiet, needing to focus on the spell. “Ahsorum dolusantum infidictus.”

The blood moved across the map where I breathed out needing to remember the illusion spell so we could see where the blood stopped. According to the map the blood had stopped in a place that was referred to as the Bennett cemetery. “The bloody witch line!”

Klaus grumbled, making me send him a look mumbling another spell. “Hey, remember who is helping you here, Nikky. Phantamogriphiia decorum…Voye a sa fille.”

The bedroom around us disappears so when I opened my eyes once more scanning my gaze around the room hearing someone coming into the abandoned house that has a bunch of candles and witchy markings on the walls. Klaus steps beside me taking my hand is his. “What took you so long?” Damon appeared from behind the corner.

“You’re little witch is more powerful than I first thought.” The raven haired vampire responded walking over to us.

Klaus rolled his eyes at him. “Hiding behind your witchy friends. And in squalor, no less.” He suddenly grabbed his head screaming in pain meaning that the dead witches were using their magic on him.

“Klaus - ohhhh!” I called his name before I suddenly felt some pain shoot through my head making me drop on my knees.

“Freaky witch.” One dead witch spoke.

Another spat in my ear made me groan, bending my head on the ground. “A witch without magic is against nature.”

“Insulting a bunch of dead witches... Not smart. I made the exact same mistake first time I came in here.” Damon teased the hybrid.

Klaus stumbled to his feet glancing my direction hearing me moaning. “Well, you know the funny thing about the witches is that living or dead, they care about their own. A hundred dead witches have a thousand living descendents…” He grabbed his head again when the flames around us grew.

“Urgh stop it…Klaus!” Cried covering my ears with my hands begging him to shut up.

He rose to his feet grunting through his teeth causing the witches' voices to finally die down. “And I have no problem killing every last one of them if I don't get my coffins back. As we speak, my hybrid friend is prepared to end the Bennett line.”

“The Gemini Coven is coming for you little witch!” I heard another witch declare making me start crying in fear, finally feeling the pain completely disappear. Lifting my head upwards I gasped dropping my hands.

Klaus dropped down on his knees brushing blonde hair from my eyes, cradling my cheek in his palm. “Rea, Rae, sweetheart I’m sorry. I didn’t think they could hurt you here…Now. Please... Show me the coffins." He lifted his gaze up to the ceiling quietly asking the dead witches who made the coffins appear.

I attempted to stand on my own two feet but I swayed feeling dizzy. Luckily Klaus caught my body falling into his chest. My fingers gripped the gray material of his Henley shirt. “I know you didn’t mean it, Woah…urgh sorry.”

“What did I say about you apologizing to me, Rae. Can you walk with me, love?” He asked wrapping one arm around my waist where I felt something coming from my nose but I didn’t think it was anything. “Here we are. Where's the fourth? Show me!”

Damon shrugged his shoulders at us. “Well, ehh, here's the thing. They can't. It's not here.”

Klaus asked in a growl. ”What did you do?”

He explained. “Well, Bonnie gave me the head's up. I mean, I didn't have enough time to get all four, but I did have time to get one.”

“I will tear you limb from limb. And only then, when you are a writhing mass of blood and flesh, will I rip your heart from your chest. “ Klaus moved forward threatening the vampire, leaving me to lean my weak body against one of the coffins.

“Sorry the deal is off if you kill me.” He warns him simply.

Holding myself up on my right elbow I grunted, shifting my gaze in their direction. “Boys, can we do this the civil way possibly. I mean yes Damon if you did something like this to my brother I would do what he is doing right now probably too. But at this point it seems we can do this another way.”

“What do you mean like a deal over dinner, little witch.” Damon scoffed in my direction knitting his brows at me in confusion. “Is your nose bleeding?”

Raising my freehand up underneath my nose I drew it back seeing red on my finger tips. “Crap…I’ve never done this spell this long before.”

“We’re heading home now. See to it that your brother shows up at my house later. We can discuss a deal otherwise I will hunt for all eternity.” Klaus vamped over to me wrapping his arms around my waist whispering in my ear. “Take us back, Raelyn. You’re done.”

Nodding my head I shut my eyes and the next time I opened them we were back in the bedroom but I still felt woozy and tired. Laying on my back on the bed he came over to my side sitting down. “The Bennett witches know about my Coevn, Nik.”

“I’m sorry you got hurt because of me…once again.” He muttered gazing down at me longingly. My blonde hair was sprawled out on the pillows and he could hear my heartbeat in a calmer state then moments ago.

Blinking my eyes I sat upright a little while my hands remained resting on my stomach, not sure I heard him correctly. “Did you just apologize to me?” He avoided my gaze giving me my answer making me smile seeing that he was slightly embarrassed. “Oh my gosh you did. And here everyone thinks you are the big bad hybrid.”

“Don’t go telling people that Raelyn or I’ll compel you to do something you’ll regret.” He teased me lightly with a smile.

Waving my index finger in his face I fully sat up so we were so close our noses could touch if he moved an inch closer to me. “You can’t compel a witch, remember silly.”

“No but I can do this.” He vamped slightly forward pushing me onto my back throwing my hair in front of my face.

I giggled moving it out of my view seeing that he was hovering above me now and we were still close like we were before. Raising my hands over my head I laid them on the pillow frozen looking at him like this. “Klaus!….”

“Don’t test the wolf in me, Ms, Lame. You won’t be able to beat me.” His blue eyes were brighter than I had ever seen up until this moment. He had a kind smile on his lips that made it almost impossible to not grin as big as he was.

I smirked a small grin testing this playful side in him that I had yet to see come to the surface so I was going to enjoy it for as long as possible. When he was happy it made all my fears disappear and made me forget that I was on the run from my entire family of witches. “And what would you do to me hmm?”

“Now you're insisting on a challenge, love.” He leaned his head down to mine where my heart quickened thinking he was going to kiss me until I felt his hand move to my sides beginning to tickle me on my hip and I couldn’t run away since he had me pinned between the bed and him.

I pushed my hands against his chest trying to squirm out of his grasp but I wasn’t trying as hard when I heard a beautiful laugh come from his lips. “Klaus…no…stop. I can’t handle….being tickled. Nik….Niklaus!”

“Do you cave yet?” He asked, making our eyes finally lock onto one another.

Pushing my hands against his chest I gently shoved him off scooting upright onto the pillows behind me. “Yes I cave. I’m going to get my revenge one day.”

“Oh I’ll be pleased to see you try, Rae.” He flopped down on his side of the bed placing his hands behind his head smiling until he heard a noise from my stomach. “Have you eaten at all today?”

Shaking my head no I pulled my knees underneath my butt shifting my body so that I was facing him. “Don’t take this as a weird question but could I see you in your werewolf form sometime. I've never seen a werewolf up close before.”

“You’re avoiding eating to ask me that question, Raelyn. I care about your well being.” He sat up straight scolding me.

Throwing my hands up from my lap a little I huffed not seeing the problem. “So no, I haven't eaten today. Can you answer my question please since I helped you possibly get your coffins back?”

“This is what is going to happen, love. We are going to get you something to eat and then we will talk about your offer.” He rose to his feet offering me his hands pulling me to stand. “So what do you want for dinner?”

“Are you saying you can cook too?” I question him.

“I can but I prefer to use vampire compulsion instead.” He responded back to me. “Now are you going to be picky about this because I have told you before that I don’t mind doing whatever I can to make you happy.”

Tapping my fingers on my arms when I crossed them over my chest I told the hybrid in front of me. “Boneless Buffalo wings would be good.”

“Done.” He turned on his heels about to leave but he spun around striding up to me leaning down where I blushed quickly thinking he might try to kiss me like we almost did on our first date. Yet he kisses my forehead instead before leaving the room. “Thank you for helping today. I don’t have many allies.”

“Neither do I.” I called out, making him halt in his tracks.

He glanced over his shoulder at me, sending me another smile in my direction. “From this day on we can look out for one another, Raelyn. I’ll see you later at dinner with the Salvatore’s.” When he had left the room completely I glanced around the room hearing my phone go off on the desk so I picked it up.

Flipping through the device there was a text message from the phone number Jo had given me but it didn’t make sense since she was enjoying her life away from all her Coven drama. I didn’t expect her to come find me. “I’m coming to Mystic Falls - EL…..that doesn’t seem right.” Locking my phone screen I tossed my phone down knowing I needed to find another outfit that didn’t have light blood on it from doing magic.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 9

Hello! I've finally managed to access my documents which means I'm posting on time! I do apologise for the random POV change throughout, but it was the only way I could get what I wanted to write flowing properly. I also just want to say thank you to those who have given me support, you all mean the world to me. But other than that, enjoy! <3

Summary: Welcome to Middle Earth! We're currently in the Shire, though not for long. Dark times are ahead. Enjoy your stay!

Tags: Kíli x oc/reader - Fíli x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company x ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - SUPER slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 1716

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Minor and Major Injuries from last chapter.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

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Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 >

PART 1: Chapter 9 -

The Teletubbies could never

Numinous (Definition): Feeling both fearful and awed by what is before you. (Adjective / Origin: Latin / nu·​mi·​nous)

The place was almost identical to how we had pictured it.

Round hallways of cream framed by planks of dark, golden brown, with intricate furniture taking up every possible area, but nothing disorganised, each object having found it’s place.

“And you call me a hoarder.” I murmured to Kay as we both stared. She didn’t retort straight away this time, too busy absorbing the sight in front of us as I picked up and fiddled with some random object.

“Holy fuckkkk.” Was all that she eventually said.

“Excuse me!”

Damn, I almost forgot he was here. Bilbo seemed to find his voice quicker than earlier, marching over, a frown on his face at Kay’s choice of words. I made sure to discreetly slide the thing in my hand back where it was whilst watching the ordeal amusedly.

“I would very much appreciate it if you refrained from using words like that.” He lectured; one arm tucked behind his back as he wagged a finger at her. I snorted quietly at the sight of Kay looking down at him with wide, guilty eyes. And the fact that swear words existed here. “Such profound language will not fly here, especially with me.”

Looking down myself, it occurred to me that I didn’t realise that he would be this small. No matter how many times I stood a measuring tape next to me, I couldn’t really comprehend his size back home. If he headbutted me right now, his head of bouncy curls would only just reach the bottom of my ribcage. I mean I’m 5’9, so he was always going to be miniature next to me, but even comparing him to Kay, who only reached around my nose at 5’4, next to her this guy was the definition of tiny. He looked as though he couldn’t hurt a fly.

However, he most certainly had proof of denying that last statement, his feisty mothering personality most certainly making an impact, as levelled us with a stern gaze from two and a half feet below.

Oh right, we’d hardly spoken a word, let alone to him directly, and we were currently in his house!

“So sorry! I – uhhhh.” Kay began hesitantly, before elbowing me. I eyed her accusedly, but quickly looked back down at the hobbit.

“Oh! Uhm, I don’t suppose you know where we are?” I questioned.

He looked between us, perplexed as he was most likely trying to reason why two women were probably wandering unknowingly in the forest behind his hobbit hole. He had noticed earlier as he politely investigated our rucksacks, unbeknownst to us, that we carried no weapons, and the contents within didn’t look as if they would last them a day. We most certainly didn’t look like merchants or travellers. He didn’t even go on adventures and he knew us two weren’t cut out for travel.

“Why, you’re in the Shire of course!” He answered. “Now, what business do two big folk have coming to Hobbiton?”

“Um.. no business?” I replied.

“We’re lost!” Kay chimed in.

“Lost?” He frowned. “What on Middle Earth were you doing, getting yourselves lost?”

“Well… We went to visit a waterfall, near our home, and haven’t been able to find the way back since.” Explained Kay, figuring the truth was the best option.

“And we’ve errr— never been to or heard of the Shire,” I added, half-lying. “So we must be incredibly far away.”

“Never heard of the—! By Valar you must be far from home!” He spluttered, his slight irritation from them landing in his garden now replaced by a new wave of sympathy, as he realised these girls with their nervous eyes, muddy, ripped – also highly unusual – clothes, entangled hair, and just their overall dishevelled appearance, seemed to truly be a bit too far away from anywhere familiar for their liking. A slight twinge of guilt panged in his chest at his slightly unorthodox attitude earlier, clearly they were in some state of shock.

Taking in a bit more, he also noticed they seemed a lot more injured than he thought, watching as they’re expressions contorted uncomfortably whenever they moved, along with one of them nursing a bandaged hand that had blood seeping in some places.

As for me, I absorbed as much of his appearance as I could whilst he spoke. As aforementioned, he was unusually short, considering the faint lines on his face didn’t show signs of childhood youth, and observing further, I saw that he had the strangest of features. His ears, half hidden by his curly locks, were wide and pointy, reminding me that of an elf. I secretly gawked at his feet, because they were the most abnormally large feet I had ever seen, especially for someone who didn’t even look as if he hit 4ft. Not to mention they were incredibly hairy. Along with his handmade dressing gown, looking as if it was crafted from a quilt blanket from some charity shop.

How peculiar.

“Sooooo,” I began as a sudden thought came to mind, drawing Bilbo’s attention. “How did we end up in your house exactly?”

“Well,” he began, albeit slightly nervous. “I happened to find you both quite knocked out, and I wasn’t going to let you both freeze to death in the pouring rain, so I took the liberty of taking you both in and lending you the guest room.” He explained, waving his finger down the hall at the room we just came out of.

“So you’re saying you dragged two unconscious strangers… into your home?” Kay questioned, a slightly concerned look on her face.

“I mean, it’s not often that—that we get big folk around these parts.” he rambled as he shifted on his feet, feeling the tips of his ears turning pink under the pressure of our slight interrogating. “Certainly not ones that I-er, find falling from my roof.”

“Your roof?!?” We both replied, completely perplexed.

“Well by the sounds of it, you had quite the tumble!” He exclaimed with a slight laugh, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at the front door. “Landed smack dab right in the middle of my bush, you did!”

“Oh, then where were we…” I trailed off.

My stare wandered from Bilbo to the door at the end of the corridor, and within a moment I was down the hallway, ducking under beams and through archways until I arrived at the door. It took me a second, but I managed to figure out the handle and it wasn’t long until I was in the fresh air.

Kay had followed, leaving the poor hobbit trailing after us in confusion. Coming to a stop next to me, we took in a sight we never thought would be possible to see.

Rolling green hills stretched in front of us and we stared. And stared. As if we haven’t done that enough already over the last day or so. And I then realised that it was the hobbit’s circular doors that I had tried to make out through the distance in the rain last night.

By the looks of it, and by some miracle, we had stumbled mindlessly into the bloody Shire. I mean, we would’ve known if we were in the goddamn Shire yesterday if it hadn’t been so DARK. Neither of us could even begin to describe how we felt, all I could do was really try my best not to scream or cry as I dug my fingers into my palms, and I could guess that Kay was having a similar reaction. Who wouldn’t? The Shire was literally the dream place, and we were stood right in the middle of it. Not the movie set, no, like, the genuine real Shire, and with, by the looks of it, real hobbits.

My mouth just hung open as I whipped my head around, feeling both amazement and excitement rise within me. “Whaaaaaatt the—” I started, but stopped myself from completing that sentence, feeling Bilbo’s stern glare on the back of my head.

Finally shaking myself out of it, I carried on with what I came out for. Scouring the ground, I spotted where we had landed, the now half-flattened bush twisted oddly and I gazed uncomfortably at the splots of our blood dotted around, the red shining in the morning light against the vibrant green.

Taking the path down to the closed gate, I stepped over it, not bothering to take the time to open it since it barely reached past my knees, though being careful with my injured ankle. Taking a few more steps back, I managed to be able to look up the hill Bilbo’s house resided in, following the trail of flattened wet grass and mud streaks until I zoned in on the top.

There was the grass bank we were on! Though now I realised it was a hill, with several chunks missing, along with the evidence of a miniature landslide.

Looking back at the two remaining confused at the door, I called out.

“We must’ve accidentally wandered here, and we’re travelling across the top of the hill when we fell!” I explained to Bilbo as I pointed. Kay raised her eyebrows and nodded in both agreement and realisation.

Now happy with our explanation, Bilbo clapped his hands to get our attention.

“Right!” He declared and we both looked down at him, jumping at his sudden switch. “Follow me!”

He waved his hands about, frantically beckoning us towards him as he led us back into Bag End. Me and Kay shared a quick glance, excited grins on our faces as we followed him back in. We both bent over at the low height of the door frame, me doing so the most, much to the chagrin of my ribs, but we were able to straighten out as the ceiling inside stood somewhat tall enough. However, I could still feel the ceiling brush the top of my head when I stood at full height, and I realised my time spent here would consist of me avoiding any ceiling fixtures along with the low, circular doorways. ‘But it was forever worth it, considering where I was currently’, I thought to myself, making sure to dodge the chandelier in front of me as we walked deeper into the hobbit hole.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[apartments4rent]

Apartments For Rent: TEN-YEAR RETROSPECTIVE

Ooooohhhh man, this… This is fucking me way up, big time… I don’t even know where to begin with this… I should definitely be using this free time I have today doing my homework, you know, the thing with a hard deadline? That was technically due yesterday?? Well, how about instead of that, I take a walk down memory lane…

Do you remember the 21st night of September? 

Picture this: It’s 2013. It is your sophomore year of high school. You have more friends than you ever have in your life and they are all so wonderful to you (this wouldn’t always be the case and they all wouldn’t stick around but you didn't know that yet). One of you proposes the question: If you were a monster, what would you be? A witch. A vampire. A werewolf. A mermaid. A ghost. A selkie. A dullahan. (You had to look those last two up.) You are so inspired by this that you want to make a story for these ideas to live in. You create a fantasy. Where all your best friends get to live together under one roof. A slice of a life you know you’ll never have. It’s actually the 20th night of September that you created the tumblr blog where most of what comes out of this will live (your first post says “why do i do this to myself”) but it is the 21st night that your creations get their names. Their genders don’t all stay the same but their cores haven’t really changed. “a very dramatic/theatrical witch who loves animals and sass master. a bubbly and happy mermaid who gets really scary when u cross her. a passive, nerdy vampire who isnt so out spoken. a moody selkie who loves to learn and lost her seal skin. a strong beautiful fairy girl who doesnt take shit from no one but is v nice to her friends. a ghost girl from the 1920s who is forgetful and not really confident but really likes her new friends.” You put a disclaimer at the bottom of the post, clarifying that these descriptions shouldn’t be taken as a description of your friends but separate characters entirely. This is also the birth of Marvin, the human man created to navigate this world of chaos, not based on anyone you know in real life. The straight man in this goofball circus. Your Original Character. (Who, you now realize, was designed as the boring main male character in the harem anime.) This was the genesis. And you would never know peace in your life ever since. 

And then what happened?

Bro, so much. A lot can happen in 10 years. You develop the characters further. You make a small town for them to live in (even though you’ve never even been to a small town in your life). You make (bad) art. You make sims because you hate the way you draw but you need a physical version of them to exist outside your head, as you see them. You apparently make a rule where no one outside of your little group is supposed to know about these characters (because you “had an experience” and “don’t wanna repeat it”). You make Alternate Universes for these Alternate Universe selves to populate, again and again. (As of right now, your “AU of an AU” list stands at 26 but there are probably more dumb ones not yet counted on the doc you made.) You try to make a one-shot comic collaboration with all your friends but no one seems to agree on how it should go so nothing but a script and panel formatting ends up getting made. (You know that your script was worse with many unnecessary details but you were bad at killing your darlings and stubborn about your ideas being the best. You’ll learn eventually.) You love and appreciate all the things your friends make for this story you start to feel full ownership of. (You haven’t noticed yet how much of a control freak you are.) Their writing and art give you life, especially considering they are doing The Most while you mostly just come up with ideas. The setting goes from apartment building to boarding house and back again before a year has passed. The first anniversary is a blast! You actually wrote something! And drew something you were proud of! Others wrote and drew and it was great. (How would you know it would never be like this again?) 

And the years go by and by… 

After the first year, you decided you wanted to make a dating sim with these silly characters because you just loved them so much. You shipped the characters (not realizing that your friends did it as a way to express they had crushes on each other, conveniently shipping your self-insert with the only man/only character not based on a friend.) There were still a lot of headcanons being made and posts being shared. But noticeably less and less. Then the second anniversary hit. Not much fanfare. After the second year, more characters started popping up based on more friends you make. Some of the friends that were there in the beginning weren’t anymore and you try not to think about it. After all, these characters aren’t your friends, they are separate and distinct from them. So it’s still OK to play with them, right? (The answer must be yes; ten years later you still do.) Then the third anniversary happens, with 4 posts between them. It was understandable. That was your senior year of high school. Everyone was getting ready to go their separate ways. You were moving clear across the country. Your friend group was getting smaller still and this big shake-up would prove who would stick around to still be a part of this thing and who would remain a memory for you to look back on in ten years. 2017, though, was a big year for the blog. You were unemployed and not yet going to college so you had A LOT of free time on your hands. It was probably the most number of posts you made since the first year of the blog. It was magic. Then you got a job. There have been 16 posts in the last 6 years. 2019 had none. 2020 and 2021 had one each. They were all made by you. There has certainly been less activity on the blog but that doesn’t mean these kids have been lying dormant all this time. You haven’t stopped thinking about them since they first popped up into your head. In 2019, you rewrote the story you had written for one of those anniversaries; the first chronological beat. (You haven’t read it since then; You have no idea if it’s good or not.)  In 2020, you attempted to write the actual story (like fr fr) for NaNoWriMo -- you didn’t get very far but it’s the thought that counts? 2021 was a quiet year as far as actual writing goes - as was 2022 - but trust that your brain definitely didn’t forget about them. 

The Retro part of the Spective 

Alright, enough second-person POV. 

Ten years.

Ten years. 

Talk about hard pills to swallow (thanks FOB). 

I’ve had this “story”, these characters, banging around in my head for ten years and what do I have to show for it? A couple thousand words and a blog full of half-thought ideas? Around this time last year, I was excited about this anniversary. I made a new Twitter for it (before that died) and was planning on actually publishing something to do this story justice… and I chickened out. I convinced myself, once again, that I wasn’t ready. That other things were more important, they took precedence. Do I have even that much to prove I was right? No, I don’t because I really haven’t changed all that much in ten years, if you can believe it. I know, a real shocker. (I still like all the same things I liked back in high school for crying out fucking loud!) I wanted to reach out to the people I used to do this with, to see if they still wanted to be part of it. (I’m sure that wouldn’tve been at all hard, I wonder why I didn’t follow through?) I wanted to have something so I would be able to say, “I did it.” So that maybe, I could finally move on. But that’s the thing, isn’t it… I don’t want to move on. I’m stuck in this arrested development because I refuse to change, to give up any past part of myself. Because if I don’t have that, I don’t know who I am. 

So now what? What’s all this for? One big, sad diary entry reflecting on the parts of myself that I already know very well? 

Honestly, I don’t know. I was hoping I could come to some sort of conclusion by writing this but as it turns out, it only made me want to cry. 

I wanted this to end on a good note.

I spent all day writing this, I can’t end it like this.

So let’s instead talk about all the things that have changed about these goofballs over the years:

Mystic Cove is a city in a Northern California town. It started out in Florida, it almost ended up as a mountain town. I also briefly considered straight up placing it in San Diego because there are some nice, beautiful, old-ass buildings downtown that juxtapose the cold, sleek skyrises in such a way that I thought about writing something about being lonely in a city and finding your own family. 

Vast Acres has been an apartment building, a boarding house, Mediterranean Revival, Victorian, Queen Anne, even briefly considered a Bed and Breakfast. All I know is it has to be the place where this family gets together. At one point under the ownership and operation of Marvin’s dad Alejandro, it is now bequeathed to Marvin by a mysterious, freshly dead uncle/great uncle. 

Marvin is a wholeass person to me, in that he’s not completely knowable to even me anymore. Marvin is probably the person in Mystic Cove I know the BEST and that like doesn’t mean anything to me. Like yeah, I’ve written pages and pages and answered so many pointless questions about him but… I don’t know how else to describe him other than, “He’s an enigma.” The most significant thing about him that’s changed is I’m considering undeading his mom? Just because I feel like we’ve had enough dead mom media and it’s not something I can speak to truthfully. Briefly considered making her a runaway mom? But we’re still thinking about it. I think her name is Lily? 

Mel’s name went from Melinda to Melody because I decided Melinda was a weird name? And Mel likes music so I thought I would be clever. She went from “Marv’s sister” and side character to basically co-lead. Mel was even almost briefly considered as the real main character for a time when I thought to lean into its roots as a product of a high schooler’s imagination and go full YA coming-of-age adventure. It was actually the subject of my 2020 NaNo attempt. I decided against it because I loved Marv too much to push him to “supporting character” and if there’s something about me that’s developed, it’s that I don’t much care for YA books anymore. 

Amber is unsurprisingly my favorite because I’m a Leo. I think I finally decided on a backstory for her that I like and she’s not white anymore? Like, not fully anyway lmao. Before she was like, from someplace in England with like Spanish parents so like tan? But now we’ve decided that she’s from colonized Mexico and her father is a white devil. :) I’ll let you figure that one out. Over these ten years, I’ve grappled with the fact that an immortal is almost impossible to understand. I’ve gone back and forth on whether her immortality is on purpose or by accident or a curse or what. Honestly, I’m still thinking about it, I don’t know for sure what I’ll end up picking. Right now though, it is an involuntary immortality with her life being tied to her sister’s (yes, the cat). Details are fuzzy. I’d have to finish the main story first but if I were to make a spin-off, I would make a prequel story about Amber’s life because it is QUITE eventful. 

Lucas is a man now lmao. And so is Will. And they r gay. For each other. But that’s been that way from the beginning lol. I think Luc’s story had to do with self-worth and Will… Will didn’t have much going on in my mind. My instinct was to make him a himbo but Will has always been very smart in my head so I don’t think that will work? Dude’s beefy asf and mad respectful so perfect man tbh? No notes. 

Jenny’s been my way to try to break down the trope “Born Sexy Yesterday” because that’s just the kinda guy I am. No, but fr I think I was making a very infantilized version of Jenny initially and that’s why I shipped her with Mel in so many AUs?? I’m not against skewing Jenny younger to make that ship viable in canon but I don’t know if that’s the story I want to tell. I don’t think Jenny ever had a goal beyond “Get to the surface” which she gets when she makes her appearance in the story so?? Where do we go from here? Things to think about…

Rohen was fat (like a proper seal should be) before they lost their skin on the beach to some snot-nosed kid and became depressed. When they start healing on their depression journey, they start to gain weight again and it's a good thing. :) 

Everyone else I haven’t mentioned yet hasn’t changed much (ie. I haven’t thought about them much). It’s not that I have favorites (even though I just said that I did), it’s just that I basically go down a list whenever I think about these guys, and, due to my short attention span, I never make it all the way down the list. AND honestly, it’s probably for the best because looking back… there were WAAAY too many characters to keep track of ngl… Like it’s a slice-of-life thing, I know. Not every character has to be involved in every storyline but like… At some point, you have to draw a line at, “How many named characters with their own plotlines can I insert into this story?” YKWIM? Especially because at one point there was a whole roster of other people who lived in the apartment building when there were like 20 units. That was (rightly) reduced back down to just the core cast. 

You can pry Jonesy from my cold, dead hands, tho. He’s perfect. He can stay.

This post took me literally all day. 

I’m tired.

I don’t really expect anyone to read all this but if you are not me and you made it to the bottom, congratulations! You now know me on a much deeper level! :) I hope I can convince myself to buckle down and write, straight up. Maybe NaNo this year? No promises. I’m trying to apply for university this year and living situation issues might take precedence but such is life, right? 

Thank you.

I love you all.

For giving me this gift.

Even if you never intended to give it fully to me.

It’s mine now, bitches. >:) 

Here’s to 10 years! And many (but hopefully not too many) more…

Cheers. 🥂🍾

❤️

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Love Song for a Vampire Pt.21

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x Wolf!Reader, Edward Cullen x Bella Swan Warnings: none Words: 3618 Summary: Evita and the Denali couple are introduced to the pack.

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25  Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33  Part 34  Part 35  Part 36  Part 37  Part 38  Part 39  Part 40(series finale) 

Against the soft, orange glow of your living room lights, Evita takes off her cloak and places it on her lap. Her tan skin was dappled with freckles, like a splash from a painter’s brush.Much like the wounds you had received from Xiomara, Evita also had what looked like claw marks raked along her cheek. You knew your parents were straining their ears to listen in on your conversation as they took refuge in their room.

Green eyes flick around her surroundings, examining the intimacy of your home. Running a tongue over her dry and chapped lips, Evita returns her gaze to you. “Sorry for springing up on you like this.” Each word is laced with a heavy accent. She mutters something in Spanish before shaking her head. “I’ve been fueled by the mission of finding my sister. Finding that Xiomara had killed her and then finding your blood. . . I wanted to hear what happened.”

“When we got there your sister was. . . Already dead. Probably had been for a while. And it wasn’t me who killed her. She put something in my drink. Put something in my friend’s drink too that prevented us from moving. We were saved by a vampire clan that is local in this town.”

Her brows scrunch up. “You are. . . Allied with the vampires?”

You tell her of the strife between the wolves and Cullens that had been going on for years. That things were now peaceful, well, somewhat peaceful. Many of the reserve’s elders didn’t like the fact that the Cold Ones could so easily enter their lands now. That the Cullens could turn on their words if it so pleased them. But the younger members of your pack were hopeful that the relationship with the Cullens was changing for the good. After all, it was thanks to the presence of the Cullens that caused the snap of wolf transformations.

“Ah, I see. . .” Evita’s eyes had grown distant when you had told her of how you came across the corpse of her sister. “I will pay them a visit too. But since it was your blood I found at my sister’s house, I wanted to check on you. See if you were still alive. Not many can say they encountered Xiomara and lived to tell the tale. Even many witches have fallen to her talons. You’re not entirely human are you?”

“No.” Mustering a pleasant smile, you can’t resist the giggle that rises in your throat. “Not entirely human.”

Evita returns your smile with one that portrayed an easy going nature. So young to be hunting down the murderer of her sister. She couldn’t have been much older than you. She braved a foreign country just to find out what had happened to Letizia. You wished there was better news that you could offer her. Some hope to bring home but you find none on your tongue. “Even so, you’re very lucky to be alive. With just a scar to mark your experience.”

You wonder if the scars on her face originated from the same owner: Xiomara. There was even one on her throat. How terrible had her encounter been?

While it was starting to get late, you knew you had to tell Sam. He would want to know. Especially if any other pack members had sniffed her entering their territory.

Excusing yourself to the kitchen, you bring out your phone to make a call to your alpha.

Having been there as well, Evita agreed to meet Sam. After promising your parents that you would be safe and text them when you got to Sam’s safely, you and Evita make a quiet walk over to his house. A trek you had made so many times before yet it felt different with the witch beside you. Her steps were soft, nearly a whisper against the rough, dirt road that led up to Sam’s small cabinesque house.

There were questions you had, begging for answers. You couldn’t quite voice them out though. You didn’t know her well enough, didn’t know yet if she would prove friend or foe. She said she wanted to thank you. What was the extent of her power? In your mind swirled thoughts you hand’s entertained in quite a while.

If your bond to Edward could indeed be erased. . . Well, that would solve a lot of conflicts that lay ahead. Bella could simply go back to him and they could continue their plans. She could become a vampire and spend eternity with him and you would be able to choose who you would end up with. The Volturi would hav eno reason to come if Bella held up her promise of turning into a vampire.

You hadn’t really explained your situation to Evita or the reason why you were in Letizia’s house in the first place. Imprinting was often a hard topic to explain to those who had no idea of the extent it went to.

Evita kept whatever thoughts were swirling in her head to herself. In the dark, her eyes appeared near black, nothing like the rich emerald hue that made her eyes pop. She kept her cloak tightly wrapped around her as she trudged forward. Her wealth of curls were like a dark cloud surrounding her face.

“I’m sorry about your sister.” You blurt out as you near Sam’s home. “It. . . It must have been terrible to find out like that.”

Her face is unreadable as she looks ahead. “I hadn’t heard from her in months. But. . . Now I know. Letizia’s death wasn’t for nothing if Xiomara was finally killed.”

“You mentioned Xiomara had killed others like you.” Fretting about how your question would sound, you take a deep breath. “Why was she hunting them?”

“Creatures like Xiomara only get stronger by consuming the flesh of those like you and I. We’re not corrupted like her, still have a piece of humanity in us. Yet we have a foot in her realm.” Her voice is even and strong when she reminisces about Letizia. "And Letizia was definitely powerful enough to give Xiomara whatever extra strength she sought. My sister left our home in Puerto Rico partly because she didn't want Xiomara to attack either myself or other members of our family. She drew her away knowing that it might lead to her own death."

The lilting howl of a wolf makes Evita stop in her tracks, eyes widening as she swivels her head this way and that. It was close. You couldn't tell whose howl it was but the ones patrolling that night were Jacob, Brady and Jared. At the mouth of Sam's driveway, you reassure Evita that it was nothing to worry about but it did little to soothe her. Especially when the bulky figure of Jared, the dark gray fur that was around his eyes like a mask gave him away.

Evita says something in Spanish while slipping her hand into her pocket. You stop her with a hand on her shoulder. Alarmed green eyes stare at you like you were the crazy one. Simply shaking your head, you explain "He's a friend." Then turning to Jared, you call out to him. His ears perk up as he makes his way warily to you and Evita. The witch prickles at the proximity of him. You could see Jared's nose twitching at her strong, yet pleasant scent. "He's my pack brother."

"So you're a wolf too." She easily fits the pieces together. Two other howls erupt in the night, calling to Jared and seemingly asking him if all was well.

The commotion has Sam turning on his porch light before his front door opens and he steps out. "Sorry for coming back so late."

"You brought a friend."

"This is Evita." you proceed with introductions and level your gaze with Sam's. "Letizia's sister. The witch who was murdered by that bird monster." Jared flicks his ears back when you mentioned the creature that had immobilized his alpha. Something so terrifying that it even caused Sam traumatic nightmares. Sometimes through the pack telepathy, there would be slivers that appeared every so often. A peek to what you and Sam had experienced in that house.

Sam welcomes the two of you inside.

Evita would stay at Sam’s for when Evita had sat down on Sam’s well worn couch, true exhaustion settled onto her features that told of her tiring journey. Who knew how long she had been traveling prior to her stop in La Push. Emily had been the one to offer the house immediately, taking pity on the young girl she observed before her. Sam didn’t object and once Evita was settled in, he walked you back home. Since she was insisting on paying them back in some way for at least causing the end of Xiomara, Sam said that he would her payment in the form of her showing up if the Volturi did come.

Evita surprisingly knew who the Volturi were. What they were. A traveling witch in her town had stayed with her family and told them a story of the wicked vampire government that took shelter in the underworld of Italy. They feasted on unsuspecting tourists. Luckily for the traveler, they had known what vampires looked like and immediately got out of the tourist group that were being led away like lambs to slaughter.

The story made both your stomach and Sam’s flop as it showed in your concerned faces to one another.

She agreed to help where she could if the time came to prevent any unnecessary blood shed. There were protection wards against such vile things like the Volturi. The humans could be protected if a catastrophe occurred. The one downside was the time it required to put together such a protective charm that would encase Forks. And it was just a lone witch there to weave such a intricate spell.

Instead making the walk back for another time, Sam drove you home. You dozed gently against the passenger side window; content with the warmth of his heater warming the tension out of your frame.

There was a thought, however, that both you and Sam shared. Only he was the brave one to say it out loud “Witches and owl monsters. . . What other dangerous monsters are there in the world?”

Immediately your eyes flick open, millions of spiders crawled underneath your skin when you brought them to life in your mind. Remembering old stories that your grandma had told you. Like that of the wendigo or even those of sea monsters that lurked in the ocean water.

They could be real and out there.

What if, like your own wolf transformation, the resurgence of vampires could snap something in the supernatural world. Lure other, more terrifying beings to your area. It was entirely possible. Like called to like.

They would need more allies, and not just the vampiric kind. They would need allies of all types.

“Will the fighting ever end?” You asked him while anxiously clutching at your seatbelt strap. Suddenly it felt too tight against your chest.

“Not for us.” He replied sadly to you.

Those three simple words stayed with you even by the time you got home and slipped into your bed. Sleep, thankfully, was fast in claiming your senses and sweeping you in a reassuring embrace.

The morning, however, had not been as pleasant since you got a ping on your phone. An incoming text from Sam simply read:“Meeting in 2 hrs.”

Your body clung desperately to your mattress, wanting to ignore the other chimes coming from your pack mates in response. There was no use in refusing the call of your alpha, even if it was through your cellphone. And you knew it was of great importance. Carmen and Eleazor would be introducing themselves as well as Evita. Would the vampires be able to detect that she was not human? You had not scented her at first. Didn’t know what you were smelling when you inhaled a lungful of warm spices.

Eventually you manage to roll out of bed and once out of your jammies, you were making the oh-so-similar walk to Sam’s.

Down the street you could already hear the voices of your pack siblings. You check your phone to verify the time.

“You’re a real witch?”

Evita’s voice laughed, friendly and sweet. Whatever stress you had been experiencing vanishes when you make it to Sam’s home. Only Sam, Evita, Jared, Paul and Embry were occupying the porch. Embry’s back was to you as he was sitting on the railing, but you knew his voice.

Sam was leaning against the front door with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was smiling at Paul who was in the middle of asking Evita to do a spell when your presence was revealed.

Behind you quickly came up Bradley and Collin run up. Caught up on well deserved rest, Evita had a warm personality. Inviting to everyone and seemingly oblivious to Leah’s sour face when she showed up with Seth who excitedly joined the rest of your pack to give Evita his own questions.

The entirety of the pack was expected to show up before Sam was to text the Cullens. Your trio was missing, talking their time probably due to Jacob being quite difficult to wake up. you had learned the hard way when it was your turn to get him up for his shift for patrol.

Thankfully, the rest of the pack didn’t mind as it gave them more time to get to know Evita.

She was sharing stories from her childhood, of the creatures she encountered as a young girl, when they finally appeared.

The moment Jacob caught sight of Evita, somehow you all knew. While not in furs, you all felt the sudden shift in the air. How air was ripped from everyone’s lungs when bearing witness to Jacob who stopped right in his tracks. Jacob who wordlessly opened his mouth and seemed to stumble forward.

You knew.

Sam knew.

Jared knew.

The three of you having experienced the same earth shattering realization: you had imprinted on someone.

Everyone else seemed to understand what it was that they had watched. Except for Evita who merely frowned at the abrupt change in the wolves around her.

Sam was at a loss. His phone had been in his hands when he spotted Jacob, Embry and Quil. But. . . When it happened, Sam’s attention had been entirely ripped from his phone. Should he address this situation first? No, he merely shook his head at a still awe-struck Jacob and thankfully Quil and Embry understood the gesture. They ushered Jacob forward, whispering to him that it was to be dealt with later while Sam finally punched in the number of the Cullens.

One situation at a time.

No one there though could resist glancing at Jacob and slyly turning to Evita. She still seemed to not understand what had happened. You could only imagine what Jacob was going through though. When you first found out that Edward was your imprintee, you were restricted to silence. Well, until you phased into your furs. Then everyone knew, whether you wanted them to or not.

Time hardly seemed to pass when the Cullens finally showed up with two extra vampires in tow. Perhaps you would consider it a blessing that their speed was astronomically fast.

Minds having immediately been read by Edward, you saw the way his face twitched in indication that he knew as well.

“Thank you for welcoming us into your territory.” Eleazor pleasantly says, stepping forward with his mate’s hand in his. Curious gold beams slide from one member of the pack to the other, taking in everyone and possibly trying to hide the fact that your wolf smell was strong to her. When the vampires finally realized Evita’s presence though, Sam takes it upon himself to explain who she was. Evita expressed her gratitude for Edward, Emmett, and Jasper; the three who had actually avenged her sister.

You and Edward in synchronicity look to each other. Magnets drawing you up together. You should have been paying attention to the words being exchanged between your alpha and the Denalis. Ears strained to tune in but the palpitations of your heart were too loud and you felt like it drowned out any and all voices. Edward holds your gaze with gentle firmness. You couldn’t explain the expression you real in his eyes. It was something you had never seen on him that was directed at you. But you had seen it on someone else before. Embry had looked the same way at you before he kissed you.

Did you dare entertain the idea that. . . That Edward could really return your affections? The possibility of being wrong was high. You wouldn’t get your hopes up.

You had decided last night that once you got the chance, you would ask Evita on a bond breaking spell. Nothing good would prosper from you and Edward being together. If he and Bella got back together, then no one would have to worry about the Volturi.

You would set things right.

**

Carmen and Eleazor were being ushered back to the house by Esme and Carlisle. His adoptive siblings followed them in suit, unaware that he was not close behind. The meeting had gone smooth despite the inner turmoil the pack was experiencing.

He lingered behind, Sam had his back turned to Edward as he beckoned to Jacob to follow him inside of his house. The order was given for the pack to disband but of course there were those who stayed, having their curiosity get the best of them.

Jacob had imprinted on the witch Evita.

From his experience with (y/n), he knew how terrible it would be when Evita was told what had transpired right under her nose. If Evita were to reject him and refuse to acknowledge the imprintation, Jacob would be destroyed.

(y/n) noticed him staring, as she must have during everyone talking in the meeting. Her body lurched forward an inch before she reeled herself back in with great self-control. Instead, determination sizzled in her eyes as she tapped Evita on the shoulder and gestured toward a thicket of trees.

“I wonder what she wants to talk to me about.”

Edward wanted the answer to that ponder as well. Instead of tethering his own mind to Evita’s inner thoughts, Edward merely shook his head and cast Sam’s house one last glance before making the trek back to his own dominion. He wouldn’t intrude on (y/n)’s privacy. She wouldn’t appreciate it.

**

You figure you could kill two birds with one stone: give Sam and Jacob some privacy while also discussing with Evita the possibility of a spell. If there was a chance then not only could you use it, but she could as well. It wasn’t fair to her, this imprinting. Not when she had just shown up late last night after discovering that her sister was dead. She had been through enough strife to last her a lifetime.

“Do you remember the reason why I went to your sister’s in the first place?”

The levity that had been shining in her eyes dimmed when she nods her head. “I do. Edward, right?”

“Well, I still want a spell like that. Or to know if it’s even possible.” You look away from her, anywhere but at her face. “This imprinting thing. . . None of us have control of it. It’s caused so many problems.”

She contemplates what you had said. “Of course it’s possible to sever the bond between people. But that’s with normal people. I don’t know if it would have any affects on you. Something else holds rule in controlling your lives.”

With honesty in your voice you say “I’m willing to try anything. Anything. This could stop the Volturi from even stepping foot in Forks. There would be no need for fighting.”

“Then I will try.” Putting forward another brights smile, both you and Evita jump at the ringing of her own mobile phone. She checks the screen before her grin returned. “It’s my grandmother.”

You leave her to answer the call and decide to check on Quil, Embry and Seth who loitered in Sam’s lot. “Are they done talking yet?”

Quil shook his head. “Not yet. Jared and Paul are also inside just to monitor Jacob. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“At least he won’t be obsessed with Bella anymore.” Seth muses simply to himself but everyone agreed with it. No one could stand Jacob mooning over her, especially when she made it clear time and time again that she was not interested in him.

“Not if Evita doesn’t accept him.” Embry reminds him. “She hardly knows him. And what if she has someone else back home? It would be-” He cuts himself off. You knew what he was going to say thought. It would be just like your situation with Edward. They had heard enough of your heart’s mournful moans.

All of you perk when the front door finally opens back up and Jacob is walking through the threshold, his head bowed as he hastily left down Sam’s driveway. The other three boys tell you goodbye before chasing after him.

You remember in those first few moments after you realized who you had imprinted on that all you wanted was to be alone.

You knew the journey Jacob would have to take to come to terms with this new life changing circumstance was going to be a difficult one.

——————————

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[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Do-S Kyuuketsu VERSUS Ⅳ Vol.4 Reiji VS Azusa [Track 1]

Original title:  Declaration of Game

Source: DIABOLIK LOVERS Do-S Kyuuketsu VERSUS Ⅳ Vol.4 Reiji VS Azusa [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Katsuyuki Konishi & Kishio Daisuke

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

TRACK 1: DECLARATION OF GAME

*Creaaaak*

Reiji: Hmー Nobody seems to be around. 

Azusa: Mmh. It’s dead quiet here… 

Azusa turns towards you.

Azusa: Eve. Stay close to us, okay?

Reiji: Well then, let us head inside.

They enter the room.

[00:31] 

Reiji: Yes. I am positive. This is the place which was mentioned in said phone call.

Azusa: But...It’s strange for him...to choose a Church, right? I mean...the caller revealed to us...that he is a Vampire as well, didn’t he?

[00:58] 

Reiji: If we assume he was speaking the truth, it is quite odd indeed. He also admitted to being the culprit behind several witch hunts in the human world, as well as claimed to be Karlheinz’ illegitimate son. I wonder how much of that is true? If I recall correctly, he introduced himself as ‘Kino’, did he not?

Azusa: Kino...The man who summoned us here...Could his objective be your powers…?

[01:29] 

Reiji: Yes. ーー He believes that he is the most fit to inherit Karlheinz’ powers. So he offered to play a game to decide who shall become the true Demon Overlord. That man...I wonder if he is trying to imply that I am unfit to yield Father’s powers? That I am simply not suitable to inherit the throne. How utterly shameless of him.

You voice concern.

Reiji: There is no need for you to be concerned about me. Furthermore, I never asked for your opinion.

You frown.

[02:10] 

Reiji: For one, I do not like the fact that I had to bring you with me here. However, if I left you behind at that empty manor, it would have clearly put you in danger. At the very least, act with caution to avoid holding us back.

You nod.

Azusa: You didn’t have to put it that rudely, did you…? 

*Rustle*

[02:39] 

Azusa: Don’t take it to heart, okay, Eve? Reiji-san is just...not the best at choosing his words, that’s all.

You smile.

Reiji: What are the two of you whispering about behind my back? Is there something you have to say to me?

Azusa: No, it’s nothing. ーー Say, Reiji-san? Where are Ayato-san, Ruki, and the others…?

[03:14] 

Reiji: I do not know. However, I can only pray they are not causing any further harm. However, if he simply wants to test these powers, I should be plenty as his opponent. Which leads me to believe he might have some other objective, seeing as he went as far as to involve my siblings as well as the Mukami family.

You wonder if Kino is behind the others’ disappearance. 

[03:38] 

Azusa: Mmh. Eve is correct. Kino is probably also the one who kidnapped Ruki and the others. When I returned from my daily patrol, I caught a glimpse of the other guys being taken away by an unfamiliar individual. If only I had returned a little sooner, I might have been able...to save everyone.

[04:17] 

Reiji: There is no point in having regrets now, is there? Furthermore, if you had been home alongside the others, you would have been kidnapped as well. Personally, I am very grateful I was able to gain this information from you. I assume that Ayato and the others were taken to the same place. By the time I returned from the Demon World, they had already disappeared after all.

You frown. 

[04:48] 

Reiji: How careless of me...I cannot believe I allowed a stranger to invade the manor so easily...If I lose this game, I will have to hand over these powers Father entrusted me with. Under normal circumstances, I would in no way feel obligated to accept such an outrageous challenge, but I simply have no other choice now that he has taken hostages. 

You mention Kino’s possible ties to Karlheinz. 

[05:17] 

Reiji: Good point. He might not have been uttering nonsense when he declared himself as Karlheinz’s illegitimate child. He abducted the Sakamaki family and successfully infiltrated Eden. We can at least conclude that he is not to be underestimated. 

Azusa: Mmh. ...I wonder if everyone’s safe? 

You ask Reiji if he is worried about his family. 

[05:47] 

Reiji: Hm? You want to know if I’m worried? No, I do not care about what happens to my brothers. However, it would be rather unfortunate to lose the Mukami brothers as they are the ones in charge of Eden’s management. They have been somewhat useful in that regard. I came here for that reason only.

You wonder if he does not care about his siblings at all. 

[06:15] 

Reiji: Exactly. Those idiot brothers of mine mean absolutely nothing to me. ーー Well then, I wanted to wait and see what would happen first, but I suppose there is no point in standing around here forever. Let us proceed a little further inside. 

*Rustle*

Azusa: Eve, let’s go. Don’t worry...I’ll protect you, no matter what happens. 

You thank him.

[06:46] Azusa: Mmh.

The three of you continue walking.

Azusa: That being said...I wonder what he’ll make us do...as part of this ‘game’...?

[07:01] 

Reiji: I am not sure. However, if he wants these powers, he could have simply challenged me to a one-on-one showdown. Seeing as he chose not to do that, I wonder if he intends to test me in some way beforehand? I do not like this.

*Woosh*

Reiji: ...Hm? Azusa, do you not sense something as well?

[07:31] 

Azusa: Mmh...I wonder what this could be…? My body feels...heavier somehow.

Reiji: This is...Could it be…!?

Reiji rushes towards the door but fails to open it.

Reiji: As expected, the exit has been blocked. The door will not even budge.

You grow restless. 

[08:01] 

Reiji: A trap? How foolish of us to walk away from the door. 

ーー Furthermore, this pressure weighing down on our bodies...I assume a barrier blocking all magic has been set up.

Azusa: Blocking all magic? Then, in other words…

Reiji: Yes. I wonder if he intends to prevent me from being able to use Father’s powers this way as well.

[08:29] 

Azusa: Which means...We can’t at least bring Eve to safety...if something were to happen…?

Reiji: No. These powers should not be affected by a barrier of this caliber. I should still be able to destroy the door. ーー You two, step back a little. 

You back away with Azusa.

Reiji: ...HAH!

*BZZZT*

[08:58] 

Reiji: Wha…!? The magic is being absorbed…!? No, that makes no sense… ーー HAH!

*BZZZT*

Reiji continues to launch attacks at the barrier but to no avail.

Reiji: Haah, haah...How!?

You tell him it’s no use.

[09:21] 

Reiji: It is not impossible. Please stay out of this. ...Tsk. I should have no issue breaking through this kind of barrier. Does this mean that I have yet to gain full control of Father’s powers…?

Azusa: Reiji-san...Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re just a little shaken up right now. We haven’t...lost the game yet.

[09:57] 

Reiji: In this case, I suppose we have no other choice but to move forward. Fufu...I shall confirm who this Kino person is with my very own eyes.

Azusa: Mmh, exactly. Will you...come with us, Eve? I’m sure it’s...scary for you...But we can’t leave you behind here by yourself either…

You nod.

Azusa: Thank you. Well, let’s go have a look then…

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[lokitvsource]

‘Loki’ miniseries producer-lead writer-creator Michael Waldron chats about Marvel’s favourite troublemaker finally harnessing his true power and wit while at the behest of the Time Variance Authority 

“Everyone has been asking ‘when are we going to see Loki’s real power?’,” starts Michael Waldron, as he animatedly dives into the upcoming Loki miniseries, starring Tom Hiddleston. “To have six episodes to explore his power has been so liberating because just from a ‘pure superhero abilities’ perspective, we wanted to explore the awesome stuff he can do, and also dramatically too.”

On board as Loki’s creator, executive producer and lead writer by Marvel Studios’ president Kevin Fiege, Waldron is itching for the series to drop already. It is evident as he gesticulates expressively as he puts forth how much Loki as a character means to him.

Last we saw the Norse trickster god, he had a giant purple hand wrapped around his neck. The shocking demise of Loki at the hands of the mighty Thanos in Avengers: Infinity War broke the hearts of millions everywhere. What would the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) be without his quick-witted jests and pranks and devilish smile?

In 2019, the announcement of Loki, fans already speculated that it would take place in one of the Marvel Universe’s alternate timelines — and they were right. Dissecting and peeling back the layers of the multiverse has been “thrilling” for Waldron, director Kate Herron and the series cast and crew. “It’s a new sandbox, a new corner of the universe to play in. It was certainly a challenge to define the rules of these spaces, the Time Variance Authority and how these branching timelines work. It wasn’t just about going ‘anywhere’ it was about going ‘anywhen’.”

At the D23 Expo in 2019 when the project was first announced, Waldron called himself and Herron “custodians of the fans’ love for Loki.” Though he was not a comic-book reader growing up (he admits he came to truly know about Loki through the MCU), storytelling remains an utmost priority for Waldron, who almost reminds us that “this is television we’re doing.”

He continues, “We can pick our spots and slow down in a way a feature film never could, and we can do long and quieter dialogue scenes and build tension and emotion in the way best television has been doing.” But Waldron was keen on creating his own original storyline; taking existing elements from past Loki comics and existing TVA bits and putting his spin on them.

So far, the MCU has been extended into successful miniseries such as WandaVision, following Wanda Maximoff’s evolution into the Scarlett Witch, and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, detailing Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes’ partnership.

Loki meets bureaucracy

In the series, Loki is seen tumbling into the hands of the regulation-body Time Variance Authority, headed by Mobius (played by Owen Wilson). The best storytelling comes from an out-of-comfort-zone experience and seeing natural troublemaker Loki at the mercy of the TVA’s bureaucracy is sure to be a spectacle.

At this, Waldron chuckles, explaining that “it was a blast” to tip the scales for Loki while making room for his inevitable naughtiness, Waldron says, “It was a chance for our writers’ room to delve into some therapy, if they ever had to go to the DMV (U.S. Department of Motor Vehicles). While we were writing the show, I was in the process of getting a new passport. And you go back to work and go ‘ugh, you’ll never guess the bureaucratic red tape I have had to deal with! But we got excited, too, and were like ‘That’s the TVA!’ so we used that.”

This in mind, he continues, “Taking an organisation that is so soul-crushing by-the-book, so to speak, in their managing of time and dropping the most chaotic character in all of the MCU smack-dab in the middle of that is just amazing juxtaposition. It’s a great way to have both entities drive one another crazy, instigating a lot of amazing conflict right from the start.”

Waldron-Hiddleston-Wilson trifecta

Waldron — who has worked on notable projects such as Community, Rick and Morty, is writing for upcoming wrestling drama series Heels, and producing Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness — has nothing but high praise for Hiddleston and his versatility as an actor and storyteller. It was integral that he pushes Hiddleston’s boundaries.

“That’s where the collaboration between writers and actors is such a joy...when you push one another,” he explains, “and my goal from day one was to tell a story of Loki that had never been told before. There had been 10 years of stories of this character and we hope folks would’ve seen a fully-realised redemptive arc. Now we are starting with this version of Loki at the end of the first Avengers film. So it was our responsibility to not retread old ground. Tom was more than game for that, in fact, he wanted to do that and go deeper into Loki’s shape-shifting identity.”

Probably one of the best surprises is Owen Wilson thrown into the mix. Known for being the early-2000s romantic-comedy must-cast, seeing him take on the meticulously attentive and seemingly diabolical Mobius will be a delight. So what about Wilson struck a chord with Waldron? “I am the perfect age [33] to have grown up with Owen Wilson in Wedding Crashers, Zoolander and Armageddon. I love Owen and he is so great in this show.”

Waldron elaborates on how Wilson and Hiddleston bring varying energies to the show. “Loki is proper and pompous, Owen is folksy and down-to-earth – so right away, energies clash in a way that’s harmonious. But what he shares with Tom is a hard-to-even-put-into-words unique charisma. They [Owen and Hiddleston] both have natural comedic abilities and they can have a purely dramatic conversation and they could play off one another’s energies and make certain the right moments funny and right moments dramatic. I didn’t even have to set up punchlines to get laughs in this show!”

[lokiondisneyplus]

‘Loki’ doesn’t just explore ‘anywhere’, but also ‘anywhen’: creator Michael Waldron

‘Loki’ miniseries producer-lead writer-creator Michael Waldron chats about Marvel’s favourite troublemaker finally harnessing his true power and wit while at the behest of the Time Variance Authority

“Everyone has been asking ‘when are we going to see Loki’s real power?’,” starts Michael Waldron, as he animatedly dives into the upcoming Loki miniseries, starring Tom Hiddleston. “To have six episodes to explore his power has been so liberating because just from a ‘pure superhero abilities’ perspective, we wanted to explore the awesome stuff he can do, and also dramatically too.”

On board as Loki’s creator, executive producer and lead writer by Marvel Studios’ president Kevin Fiege, Waldron is itching for the series to drop already. It is evident as he gesticulates expressively as he puts forth how much Loki as a character means to him.

Last we saw the Norse trickster god, he had a giant purple hand wrapped around his neck. The shocking demise of Loki at the hands of the mighty Thanos in Avengers: Infinity War broke the hearts of millions everywhere. What would the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) be without his quick-witted jests and pranks and devilish smile?

In 2019, the announcement of Loki, fans already speculated that it would take place in one of the Marvel Universe’s alternate timelines — and they were right. Dissecting and peeling back the layers of the multiverse has been “thrilling” for Waldron, director Kate Herron and the series cast and crew. “It’s a new sandbox, a new corner of the universe to play in. It was certainly a challenge to define the rules of these spaces, the Time Variance Authority and how these branching timelines work. It wasn’t just about going ‘anywhere’ it was about going ‘anywhen’.”

At the D23 Expo in 2019 when the project was first announced, Waldron called himself and Herron “custodians of the fans’ love for Loki.” Though he was not a comic-book reader growing up (he admits he came to truly know about Loki through the MCU), storytelling remains an utmost priority for Waldron, who almost reminds us that “this is television we’re doing.”

He continues, “We can pick our spots and slow down in a way a feature film never could, and we can do long and quieter dialogue scenes and build tension and emotion in the way best television has been doing.” But Waldron was keen on creating his own original storyline; taking existing elements from past Loki comics and existing TVA bits and putting his spin on them.

So far, the MCU has been extended into successful miniseries such as WandaVision, following Wanda Maximoff’s evolution into the Scarlett Witch, and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, detailing Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes’ partnership.

Loki meets bureaucracy

In the series, Loki is seen tumbling into the hands of the regulation-body Time Variance Authority, headed by Mobius (played by Owen Wilson). The best storytelling comes from an out-of-comfort-zone experience and seeing natural troublemaker Loki at the mercy of the TVA’s bureaucracy is sure to be a spectacle.

At this, Waldron chuckles, explaining that “it was a blast” to tip the scales for Loki while making room for his inevitable naughtiness, Waldron says, “It was a chance for our writers’ room to delve into some therapy, if they ever had to go to the DMV (U.S. Department of Motor Vehicles). While we were writing the show, I was in the process of getting a new passport. And you go back to work and go ‘ugh, you’ll never guess the bureaucratic red tape I have had to deal with! But we got excited, too, and were like ‘That’s the TVA!’ so we used that.”

This in mind, he continues, “Taking an organisation that is so soul-crushing by-the-book, so to speak, in their managing of time and dropping the most chaotic character in all of the MCU smack-dab in the middle of that is just amazing juxtaposition. It’s a great way to have both entities drive one another crazy, instigating a lot of amazing conflict right from the start.”

Waldron-Hiddleston-Wilson trifecta

Waldron — who has worked on notable projects such as Community, Rick and Morty, is writing for upcoming wrestling drama series Heels, and producing Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness — has nothing but high praise for Hiddleston and his versatility as an actor and storyteller. It was integral that he pushes Hiddleston’s boundaries.

“That’s where the collaboration between writers and actors is such a joy…when you push one another,” he explains, “and my goal from day one was to tell a story of Loki that had never been told before. There had been 10 years of stories of this character and we hope folks would’ve seen a fully-realised redemptive arc. Now we are starting with this version of Loki at the end of the first Avengers film. So it was our responsibility to not retread old ground. Tom was more than game for that, in fact, he wanted to do that and go deeper into Loki’s shape-shifting identity.”

Probably one of the best surprises is Owen Wilson thrown into the mix. Known for being the early-2000s romantic-comedy must-cast, seeing him take on the meticulously attentive and seemingly diabolical Mobius will be a delight. So what about Wilson struck a chord with Waldron? “I am the perfect age [33] to have grown up with Owen Wilson in Wedding Crashers, Zoolander and Armageddon. I love Owen and he is so great in this show.”

Waldron elaborates on how Wilson and Hiddleston bring varying energies to the show. “Loki is proper and pompous, Owen is folksy and down-to-earth – so right away, energies clash in a way that’s harmonious. But what he shares with Tom is a hard-to-even-put-into-words unique charisma. They [Owen and Hiddleston] both have natural comedic abilities and they can have a purely dramatic conversation and they could play off one another’s energies and make certain the right moments funny and right moments dramatic. I didn’t even have to set up punchlines to get laughs in this show!”

[bush-viper-cutie]

Chapter One: The New House

Pairing: Snape x OC

Word Count: 2,472

Rating: E

Plot:  Severus, forced to live with his parents once again, moves into a new house with them… except the house itself isn’t new. Its old, very old indeed.

Warnings: none

A/N: Snapetober! I will be posting chapters often to this slice-of-life gothic slow-burn romance I have in my head :D Not following any prompts but I hope the general atmosphere of these chapters are spooky? Mixed with some gothic… maybe some supernatural elements ahead ;) Enjoy :D

Posted: 10/1/21

Chapter List

Next Chapter –>

 ---

~*~*~ = time skip

---

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Severus Snape hated his life. His parents were awful, his family had no money, no support from anyone, and everyone he'd ever known hated him. The majority of his 20 years of life had been like that, except for a small bit of it where it wasn't, where it had been alright. For a few quick years, he had one friend who understood him, although it was now as he sat in the backseat of his father's car, looking up at the clouds, that he wondered if she ever did.

The clouds coated the sky, covering every sliver of sunshine with thick grey. No light broke through and as a result, everything looked as miserable as his life felt. The droning of the car engine and tires on concrete grated his ears as he tried for peace of mind.

His father's suitcase - sandwiched above Severus' trunk and his mother's large bag - dug into his side, poking at him deeper with every turn the car took. They'd been driving for almost an hour but he knew they weren't even close to their destination; they were still inside the city, still inside its limits. He didn't need to know where they were going, even if he'd like to, he knew his father couldn't afford to move to any city nor any country home close by.

His mother sat quietly in the passenger seat, watching classy houses with nice, white picket fences and short little rose hedges pass by as they drove. She looked away from the window when they stopped at lights or when his father needed to look at the map for directions; Severus suspected she didn't want to know if any of the four-member families out on their daily evening walk around their block looked in to see who owned the beat-up little pile of scrap metal driving by their house.

He didn't care though. He hardly cared about anything lately. The last time he could remember caring was the scroll parchment he'd received for graduating Hogwarts. That was all he'd wanted for two years. After he'd lost his only friend - his only best friend - he focused on school and school alone. He thought everything about his life would change the second he got hold of that certificate. For a few long days it had felt like a first-place trophy, but it wasn't. It was what it was: A certificate, of completion, of participation. Nothing more.

Maybe he could have been something. If he'd gotten a job, saved up while living with his parents, and finally moved out, leaving them behind forever... But he didn't do that. He spent two years wasting time meddling in a bigoted cult working, selling potions for scrap. Hardly making enough to stay off the streets pretending like it was better than living at home just because the new sinking ship he'd found himself in was with his friends. Maybe eventually he could have made it work if it hadn't been for the Aurors who busted their small section of Death Eaters dedicated to making money selling illegal potions.

He supposed they threw themselves a party, thinking themselves big-shots, catching a handful of young adults making money out the back of a shady pub. He remembered the headline in the Daily Prophet: "Fourteen Death Eaters caught and awaiting sentencing". He supposed his mother thought herself a saint now too, bailing him out, saving him from days of "possible abuse" as if it were any worse than the prison he'd lived in all his life.

At first, he couldn't figure why - not for the life of him - she'd even care what happened to him. He wasn't a child and he wasn't her problem anymore. He knew she derived some sick pleasure knowing he not only owed his existence to her but now his freedom as well... and then it all came out. They bought a new house and it wasn't built to be kept up by two people, hell not even three but he was sure his extra pair of hands would come very handy to them.

They didn't even need to pay him. Not only was he their child, but that bail money was something he couldn't even attempt at paying back, and not because it had been a lot. She'd paid it in wizarding money left over from her witch days and she knew his wand had been broken as part of his sentencing. He'd have to beg some stuck-up department deep in the government for a wand permit which cost money. Then he'd have to buy himself a new wand, then work to pay her back all while "bumming" it at home while his father yelled about getting a "real job", one that didn't involve "devil magic" in the "devil society" that was the wizarding world. And he was sure he wouldn't be able to show up for work with a bruised eye or swollen jaw, even if by some miracle his employer could look past his new criminal record.

He held in a wince as the car turned again and the top luggage fell onto his head. He was back to old habits trying to pretend he didn't exist.

"Hey," Tobias said, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "Fix that."

Without a word, Severus shoved the luggage back onto the pile behind the driver's seat and sat back. They were on the outskirts of society now. The scenery had turned to country, and the smog of the city had cleared, though the skies were still dark.

His father stopped for a few moments and refolded the map on his lap. His mother carried on watching the world outside, unresponsive to either of them or the happenings inside the car.

"What's that say," Tobias handed Severus the map and lit a cigarette while he waited, not bothering to open the window.

Severus brought the map up to his eyes and squinted. His eyesight was poor and worsened by the approaching dark. "S-starts with 'c'..."

"S'got a double 't' or 'h'?"

"'H'." Severus handed it back and Tobias started driving again.  He took several turns and headed onto a rougher road.

Within minutes the tame country became wild and morphed into a long stretch of woods. For the first few minutes, he hadn't even noticed despite being completely focused on the environment that passed them, like his mother still was. The first few trees seemed to go on, and just when he thought they'd clear them and continue driving past open fields, the trees persisted until he realized they were deep inside a forest now.

A few more minutes passed and they finally did exit the forest into a wide field of dead chopped trees cleared to the side on either edge of the steep hill the car was climbing. Severus sat up finally, hearing his spine crack and snap into place after being hunched over for the better part of the day. He liked the colorful mushrooms and bright green moss growing on the black logs of the discarded trees.

"Here," Tobias grumbled, rolling down the window. He flicked his cigarette butt and rolled it back up.

Severus sat forward and looked out the windshield up at the house they were approaching. It was large and clearly abandoned, probably for a good decade. The shingles were covered in dead leaves, the paint was chipping, the windows were gray and smeared with dirt likely blown during wind storms. The porch was missing a step and the columns holding up the covering were slanted. It was more yellow at the top and browner at the bottom - rot on the foundation most likely.

He slumped back in his seat. At least, if it turned out horrible, if it came down the second they stepped inside, or the walls melted from mold before their eyes, their old home was still waiting for them, the cursed thing. Almost all houses back home on Spinners End were abandoned. No one to sell to, no one to buy decrepit eyesores in the shadow of rundown factories. But at least he still had the option if it all went wrong.

~*~*~

Severus stuffed his suitcase into the closet, kicked it in, and shut the door. Unpacking could wait. He turned around and looked at his room as a whole. It was small, located up the stairs in a corner. It had a slanted roof which was odd, considering there was a third floor above him. It would do though, it was on the opposite side of the house as his parent's room, so it would certainly do quite nicely.

He moved to the window and looked out to watch the mist settle below. His father was gone to town to purchase things they'd need: a lighter apparently for the fireplaces since this house was built before furnaces and never renovated. He felt like a poor house servant to a rich Lord, but it was better than feeling like a roach in his old home. They needed coal too, or maybe wood, whatever old metal kitchen stoves and ovens used.

Severus walked out of his room to look down the hall again. It was a larger house than he was used to - it practically felt like a palace - and was sure it would take a few days to memorize how to find the correct corridor places.  It wasn't Like Hogwarts, which typically took several years to memorize the right paths.

He walked down the opposite way he came and observed the way the dust clung to the walls giving the blue wallpaper a very muted look. The original owners liked their colors, practically every room had a different color to it. Corridors were blue, bedrooms green, dining room orange, library red, kitchen white, bathrooms pink... At least none of the colors were very offensive to the eyes, even without the dust they were all very muted and earthy.

He had explored the bottom floor, the second floor had all the bedrooms, and the third-floor stairs must be around somewhere, hidden. As he walked a new corridor he noticed there were spaces on the wall which had, at one time or another, held frames or mirrors but they were long gone. He turned the corner to a long hallway with very tall windows on one side. He could see the mist again and possibly behind it was more to the forest surrounding the house. He mentally noted which turn brought him to the back wall of the house. He walked on and at the center were the stairs to the third floor tucked into a gap in the wall opposite the windows.

The handrails were covered in dust and between the wood pillars were cobwebs that swayed as he crept up. There was an open floor filled with ghostly sheet-covered furniture. A chandelier holding half-used candles lay on the floor with a long chain still connected to the ceiling. Its crystals refracted light from the large windows on either side of the room.

He sat on a couch - not bothering with the cloth - and sighed. Eventually, they'd put him up to getting all this old stuff down so that his father could sell it, although, they'd already been inside once before and said they couldn't find the stairs to this floor - or large room.

He got up and walked back down the stairs peering into the small crevice between the handrail and wall. When he reached the bottom step he noticed the indent on the edge of the left-hand wall and pulled on it. A little ring popped out and when he pulled on that, the wall rolled out. No, it was a door. He pulled it further and closed it behind him. He stepped back against the windows. The wallpaper blended seamlessly and would have been hard for him to tell that it was a door at all. He pressed the blue-colored ring back against the wall and walked back to his room.

~*~*~

Severus heard a car door slam and sat up in bed. His father was finally back with the supplies to hopefully get dinner started. His nap must have been a few hours because the sun had already dipped below the tree lines.

"Severus," his father called out to him, his echoes from one side of the house bounced off every wall to reach Severus' ears. "Now."

He swung his legs over the bed and left his room, stumbling down the dark hallway towards the front of the house. He stopped at the foot of the stairs looking down. His father was smoking again and had dropped several grocery bags on the floor. He blew the smoke out of his mouth and looked up at Severus, then motioned for the bags and pointed in the general direction of the kitchen.

Severus obeyed and carried them in, placing them on the counter - which had been dusted - and started taking out the contents. The only modern appliance in the house was the fridge, tall silver and brand new; it must have been the real major cost of the house.

His father had bought a large head of cabbage and a pack of sausages. There were matches but no coal which means they might be having cold soup for dinner again. He put everything away and came back to stand at the door.

He stepped aside as Tobias entered the house again. Severus thought about stepping out and walking around for a bit, not wanting to be in the same house as his parents, but felt the distance between his room and theirs was enough for today.

He turned to the stairs and saw his mother holding the banister looking down at him.

"Tomorrow there'll be a list of chores for you in the kitchen," she said. Her stiff voice echoed throughout the house and she kept her eyes on him waiting for a response.

He gave none and she left, unbothered. It was the way of their relationship. She'd ignore everything he said, and he'd do the same. He walked up the stairs, hearing how they creaked and groaned under his weight, echoing off walls and resonating down the hall. He headed to his room and closed the door. It was only around nine, fully dark, but he was done with the day. Dinner wasn't worth facing them and staying awake any longer wasn't worth the boredom and loneliness.

He took his pillow out of his trunk and fell onto the bed, almost disappointed it didn't break and send any amount of adrenaline or chemical of any kind to his brain. He moved his pillow, slid his arm under it, and closed his eyes.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Chapter List

Next Chapter –>

[pallasperilous]

Boneless Wings

 {AO3 version}

So, blah blah blah, it’s their standard-issue disaster: pack of dumbass witches (always with the dumbass witches. Where do they find the time for this shit? Somebody get these women signed up for a Peloton subscription or a macramé class or a vibrator of the month club, seriously, whatever it takes—), ancient curse, Castiel being the actual angel of stepping in it, nobody cares. 

The point is, two hundred and forty-one hours of binge-worthy drama later, Dean and Cas are living in a semi-detached just a short thirty-minute commute to somewhere equally lame, Castiel has two literal-ass wings, and yes, Susan, they kiss now. 

The neighbors are weirdly cool with it. 

For those of you perving along at home, Dean could absolutely provide a list of the hundred or so ways that having a boyfriend* with giant fucking actual wings is super hot and/or awesome.

This is not that list.

(*you can just shut right the fuck up , Sam, because it’s either this or Dean will start saying lover. And nobody needs that. Nobody wants that.)

1.  Bird mites. Holy shit. 

 2.  Sharing a bathroom. The shower curtain rod, and consequently the security deposit, are early casualties. The medicine cabinet follows swiftly behind. Shower hijinks are not even an option.

 3.  Dean comes home one day from a gig and there is a giant plastic green turtle in the backyard. A closer inspection reveals that the turtle is actually a mule for about half a truck bed of industrial dust ‘n grit. It is, in fact, a kiddie sandbox. Dean points out that they do not, in fact, have a small child (FINGERS CROSSED), so...?

Cas then earnestly shows him an entire playlist of exotic birdy dust bath videos on Youtube. 

Dean then earnestly shows him the garden hose. 

4.  The down just gets, like...everywhere. EVERYWHERE. How many times have Sam and Dean practically sold their kidneys for a single angel feather for some dumb spell to solve some pointless Occult McProblem? And now Dean is picking them out of his damn teeth every morning. (No, gross, not because of... Jesus, no, that is not a thing.)

On the upside of this one, Dean finally has an excuse to buy a Dyson, which he’s secretly always thought looked awesome. It is. 

 5.  When Dean is scraping out the umpteenth canister of fluff he jokingly suggests they use some of it to supplement the tragically flaccid down comforter currently shaming their bed, and Castiel pitches an existential fucking sulk. Dean wants to experience happiness again, so he does not point out that it get ass-bitingly cold here this time of year, and decent bedding is not exactly inexpensive, and the Dyson kind of maxed them out on household purchases.

But whatever.

 6.  Castiel is indulging in what Dean thinks of as a sky pout when he flies right into a head-on with li’l Timmy NextDoor’s new Christmas surveillance drone. It dings the shit out of one of Cas’s left primary feathers (the scientific term is “those big motherfuckers”), which apparently hurts like a bitch. Cas is grounded for a few weeks after that and is cutely pathetic about it and at first Dean is absolutely down to kiss it better. By the end, Dean is almost ready to strangle Cas with his own necktie, but he has learned a lot of surprisingly interesting stuff about ancient Mesopotamia, like that it was super horny.

 7.  After the snow melts, Dean starts finding shit on the front step with the morning paper. It’s not even a good newspaper; Cas signed them up for the local fish-wrapper (or maybe it was Sam, before he fled for the hills— he occasionally breaks out in a  “support local journalism” rash). The crossword puzzle is insulting, but the paper does at least syndicate Carolyn Hax, whom Dean secretly suspects of being an absolute wildcat in the sack, so he grudgingly expends the calories to bring it in every morning. 

Anyway, at first the stuff he discovers crapping up the welcome mat is just shiny bits of trash — couple granola wrappers, some MGD pull-tabs, a few field-stripped twisty-ties. Probably just windblown, and he tosses it in the garbage can. 

Then a couple weeks in, things start getting...grisly? It escalates real slowly, from a variety platter of mouse bits to squirrel à la power line and then half of a dry-aged raccoon and an opossum that has recently graduated from playing dead to professional dead-being. The neighborhood crows obviously love that their front step is now a roadkill café; Dean has to bat increasing numbers of them away with the kitchen broom in order to relocate their horrible snack to the edge of the nearest storm drain.

Then one morning there are like twenty crows and they’re in just the cutest little football huddle-up around what turns out to be a human fucking finger with a retro-fun mood ring still on the knuckle (it’s feeling: Sad) and Dean fully loses his shit. 

Cas hears him freaking out and comes whomping out of the garage ready to, whatever, flap somebody to death maybe, but as soon as he establishes that Dean doesn’t need anything more than a fresh pair of boxers, he de-poofs a bit and assesses the whole human finger/crows situation in his usual infuriatingly unrushed way. The crows had mostly bounced up to the cable line over the house, safely out of brooming range, but one by one they start to drop down and hippity-hop back towards the world’s tiniest crime scene.

If Dean were five percent less freaked he’d be tempted to go inside and find out how much of a dent he can make in a six-pack before Castiel finally dings and spits out his results, but he isn’t, so he just stands there in silence clutching the broom like it’s a shotgun.

Eventually Cas says “hm,” and then he looks at the crows and makes some noises that sound like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal, and the crows make some scrawps and chuks back, and then one of them delicately noodges the tip of dead finger with its beak and then hippity hops back a foot or two, bows, and then they all fly away over the shitty little beige duplex across the street like they’re running ten minutes late to an important bird appointment.

Castiel stands up (Dean reflexively backs up into the doorway, as this involves Cas bomfing out his wings a bit for ballast and Dean has caught a blow to the nuts on more than one occasion), dusts off his goddamn slacks, pulls a plastic evidence baggie out of thin goddamn air or maybe his socks, and casually bags the finger like they’re doing a standard FBI wheeze. “So what,” Dean says, as Cas diligently zips the baggie, “the fuck?”

“Oh,” Cas says, blinking in surprise that Dean is still there and interested, “they think I’m their god.”

Dean kind of stares back at him, the six feet of dude and like sixteen feet of bird, and thinks sure, okay, but his face must still be stuck on “Tippi Hedren attic scene” because Cas puts a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder and adds “Don’t worry. I’ve told them I don’t require further offerings, and I reassured them that you’re my consort and were simply jealous of other potential mates.”

It takes Dean two weeks to come up with a response to that, but by then it’s become evident that no bird is ever going to shit on the Impala again, so he decides to just chalk it up in the win column and move on.

You know. The family business.

8.  No matter how tightly he folds them, Cas can’t fit his wings through the definitely-not-up-to-code doorway of the wood-paneled family rec room in the basement, so Dean claims it as his man cave and dubs it the “No Fly Zone.” 

Castiel doesn’t find this funny, but Dean really only uses it to fold laundry. 

 9.  Transpo is an obvious issue. Cas can almost stuff himself into the Impala if he sort of reverse-cowgirls the back seat, but then the wingtips smoosh up against the windshield and Dean’s visibility is approximately zip. And, sure, Cas could fly himself anywhere they really needed to go, he’s basically a Chevy Of The Air, but sometimes it’s raining, and the seraph Castiel — Shield of God, Heavenly Soldier of the Lord, multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, will smell like a wet fucking chicken for days afterward. Febreze does not help.

Dean spends a few nauseating weeks contemplating the purchase of — and here he learns that the human gag reflex can be conditioned, but never truly eradicated — a convertible. Once Cas brings up the possibility of a minivan or perhaps a station wagon (he’s taken to studying family motor vehicles with all the intensity of a birder with a life list) and Dean makes him sleep on the couch.

Dean gets his own living room rotation after he shows Cas a Craigslist posting for a very reasonably priced horse trailer. Castiel points out that it’s used and Dean notes that neither of them is exactly mint in original packaging either. Castiel points out that he’s not a horse, and after a few necessary but admittedly unoriginal jokes, Dean pulls up a website with an exhaustive photographic tutorial on how to convert a horse trailer “for the safe and sanitary transport of ostriches, emus, and/or cassowaries.” Cas points out that he’s not an ostrich, emu, and/or cassowary, and Dean counters that he clearly isn’t, because an emu would probably show a little more gratitude, and that’s how Dean learns that the couch has a broken spring under the left cushion. The transpo issue remains unresolved.

 10.  Dean keeps a pair of shop-grade safety goggles by his side of the bed. It’s not the sexiest look, but it turns out feathers are stabby as hell when encountered at a particular angle. Cas can do the healy thing, of course, but they learn the hard way that cornea perforation is not really a mood enhancer. On the bright side, Castiel accidentally corrects Dean’s incipient presbyopia, which means Dean doesn’t have to hold the newspaper at arm’s length anymore when he’s idly speculating what Carolyn Hax looks like below the neck. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

 11.  You’d think that, when you’re coming down from a time-limited but incurable curse that makes you feel like every cell of your body has its own cute little individual headcold — because you missed a hex bag due to the fact that you were preparing your legal response to Sam turning up to the hunt wearing a goddamn hair scrunchy, as if he were fresh off the set of a very special episode of Clarissa Explains It All — anyway, you’d think that being wrapped in the warm embrace of an angel’s wings would be nice. 

But you would be wrong, because apparently your boyfriend has been out communing with the bees again, and those feathers pick up ragweed pollen like it’s their goddamn job, and guess what else angels can’t cure? Dean will take Motherfucking Seasonal Allergies for 600, Alex. 

12a.  One of the neighbors has that homesteading hippie brain disease that drives an otherwise normal-seeming person to brew their own beer and raise a bunch of chickens despite living within five hundred yards of a fully functioning Hy-Vee. There’s a week where one of the wee little velociraptors seems to be processing some kind of trauma because it starts yelling at dawn and keeps going until well past the hour that swearing is allowed on network TV. 

When Dean finally hammers on the front door the next afternoon the neighbor apologizes with some extremely nasty home-brew (HIPPIES) and some absolutely devastating weed (HIPPIES!) and explains that “Ginger is going through a rough molt” and then he kind of nods his head towards Dean’s side of the fence where Cas is futzing around in the squash plants and stage whispers (this is a direct quote) “You know how they get.”

Dean is about to rip the dude a new one for comparing his immortal space-kaiju lover to a fucking Australorp yard pullet when Castiel pops his head up over the white pickets and breezily contributes “Bad molt, yes, those are terrible, Dean can tell you all about how insufferable I am those weeks,” and sometimes Dean just doesn’t know why he even tries.

 12b.  The less said about angel molt, the better. 

Seriously, the freakin’ eyes-on-his-hands naked mole rat dude from, whatsit, Pan’s Labyrinth of Subtitles, would run screaming from this shit. 

 13.  There’s a 4th of July BBQ Potluck Block Party and Dean’s inability to stand idly by while good meat is abused ( shut up Sam ) means he winds up manning the grill and dismissing the pretenders to set some strictly inedible things on fire. Cas hangs out next to him and uses his flappers to kinda whupf the smoke away from Dean’s eyes now and then, which rules. It’s actually a pretty chill event until Sharon and Don From Number 4267, The Green House With The White Trim, turn up with a giant Pyrex full of naked, still-marinating teriyaki wings. 

Sharon And Don look down at their wings and then up at Castiel and then down at the wings and then up at Castiel and they are clearly teetering on the edge of a Midwestern politeness failure-based nervous breakdown. But then Cas, smooth as a margarine commercial, gently takes the dish from Sharon’s frozen hands, examines the contents for a silent moment, and says “it’s alright. They weren’t personal friends.”

He gets an extra burger for that one.

 14.  Cas keeps absent-mindedly trying to groom Dean — who, in case it still needs to be said at this point, possesses zero-point-zero feathers of his own — so he goes after Dean’s hair, instead. Dean has to stop him after his second hour of trying to straighten out a cowlick. “I don’t understand how you can steer properly with this deformity,” Cas says, as if it’s a genuine miracle that Dean isn’t constantly careening over ottomans like Dick Van Dyke. He’s even more horrified by Dean’s (frankly minimal) use of hair gel. “Jesus, Cas, it’s not like I’m drinking it,” he says, but then one time they have an epic make-out session shortly after Dean performs his masculine beauty rituals and there’s some smearage of various types of Product (tm) on the flappy areas. 

And, sonuvabitch, for the next six hours Cas is spirographing around the house like he has a heavenly inner ear infection, and he only stops veering into the doorframes after Dean wipes down every. Single. Feather. With mineral oil and about eighteen clean shop cloths. Dean switches to something called hair wax, which costs thirty zillion times more per ounce and makes him smell vaguely like church, but is a lot less gloppy. The things we do for love.

 15.  Seating inside the house is a bit of a conundrum, too. Cas can kind of flop his wings out to the sides if he sits in the middle of the couch, but then Dean’s stuck on the recliner, which is basically in the next county. Bar stools are disastrously tippy, Dean’s lower back and hips have not endured mumble-mumble years of hunting just to be subjected to a damn beanbag chair, and, after a brief flurry of optimistic excitement, Dean determines that they’d have to take the front door off to get a massage chair in. He finds a swing online that if, he can get the hardware properly installed in the crossbeam, is rated for up to 500 pounds, so he texts Cas the URL so he can check out the specs. After half an hour he writes back —

CASTIEL: Dean

CASTIEL: I believe this swing is intended for sexual congress.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: I can infer from the ellipsis that you have spent several minutes attempting to draft a response.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: Dean

DEAN: it’s multipurpose

  16 . On the plus side, though, big-ass wings make for a pretty good drying rack. He can get every sock in the house laid out on those suckers in a single round and, one episode of Dr. Sexy later, they’re perfectly dry and toasty warm, without any of the pair-busting casualties Dean has learned to expect from the apparently socknivorous dryer in the basement. 

Dean assumes it’s just the product of good air circulation and body heat until he realizes that he hasn’t had to toss a pair for being too worn out in...maybe six months? So he asks Cas “Are your wings... healing the socks” and after an entire Abbott and Costello routine centering around heal versus heel, Dean determines that the answer is: yes, his boyfriend’s wings are channeling the almighty power of Heaven to magically repair the socks Dean buys at Target in twelve-pack bags. On sale.

This is actually kind of sexy, if Dean is being perfectly honest, so, you know what? It doesn’t belong on this list.

 16.  So nobody really freaks out or bursts into tears or calls the news or the FBI or anything when Cas goes out in public with him, which Dean is secretly a little disappointed about, because come on. (Maybe giant wings just reads as a gay thing? Was there an episode of Will and Grace about this that Dean missed back when he was ass deep in wendigos or something?)

But no. Dudes tend to just glance at them across the Home Depot parking lot, throw them the Mutual Dude Acknowledgement Nod, and say some shit like “Comic-con,” or “nice anime” in a knowing tone. Then they go back to rolling their carts full of gaskets or hammers or whatever back to their mom’s station wagon. 

Little girls tend to go googly-eyed — Castiel seems to fall into the same category as a Disney princess, despite the stubble and the drabcore wardrobe, and Dean can’t count the number of times some mom has approached Dean at the grocery store (like he’s Castiel’s manager?? Which, okay...yeah, actually) and asked if they do birthday parties. The money would actually be pretty tempting if Dean weren’t five thousand percent sure that Cas would get them both arrested by launching into an anatomy lesson about duck sex or how God is a loser who favors relaxed fit jeans and Wild Turkey.

The worst is white ladies of a Certain Age, and it always seems to happen in the pudding aisle, for some reason. They either go cross-eyed with horniness and become indiscriminately handsy (Dean can’t blame them for the impulse, but also back off, Karen), or ask Cas for prayers for their cat’s chronic asshole problems (which Castiel WILL take seriously). 

Worst of all is when some hippie spinster clocks them. This woman inevitably reaches right for the feathers and asks in a willowy voice if they’d ever consider turning some of them into dreamcatchers to sell at her studio, which is literally always named The Faerie’s Glen. Then Cas gets confused about why, exactly, a sixty year-old WASP in a peasant skirt would need to call on the infant-protection powers of an Ojibwe spider goddess, while Dean just wants to bite the lady’s fingers off. 

Either way, it’s always a bad scene, and many fully loaded grocery carts have been lost to the fallout.

17.  For some metaphysical reason Dean is too dumb to suss out but also too smart to question, lugging a pair of Cessna-sized flappers around this mortal dimension actually seems to tucker Cas out. He doesn’t need to zonk out every night, but he semi-regularly throws in the towel and actually crawls in with Dean for the duration. 

This would be swell in theory, but the guy absolutely cannot settle the fuck down in less than three (3) human hours, which is the exact amount of sleep Dean requires to maintain his famously sunny demeanor. It’s not just ye olde tossing and turning — Dean can handle that, sharing a bed with Sam is like sleeping next to a kangaroo with restless leg syndrome — no, it’s a nonstop parade of little flippy-flappies and shiffle-shuffles and spontaneous outbursts of preening. 

So Dean makes him a Baby Sleep Sack. 

This is something Dean knows about due solely to one super dumb hunt involving a banishing sigil that had to be drawn in — he still feels like this had to be a misprint — human breastmilk, and that was obviously not happening. But the monster of the week wasn’t going to banish itself, so they wound up at the nearest Walmart, at 4am, picking up what turned about to be an unnecessarily generous supply of baby formula, along with a fresh box of shotgun shells because God bless America*. It doesn’t work, although “lots of stabbing” turns out to be a solid fallback plan, but the point is that while Sam was debating between Digestion Support or Neurological Development, Dean acquired an unprecedented familiarity with some of the products currently available to the sleep-deprived parent. So Dean finds some DIY Baby Sleep Sack knockoff patterns online and determines he can replicate and scale up the concept with some beach towels and duct tape, and the next morning he presents the lumpy but totally functional prototype to Castiel. 

Initially Cas thinks it’s a sex thing (reasonable, it probably is), but once they clear up that misunderstanding, he’s obviously a little peeved by the concept of being swaddled as if he were a gassy baby instead of a deathless sky monster in a sexy dude-shaped can. But Dean must be giving off some serious man on the edge vibes because Cas grudgingly agrees to let Dean tape him up the next time he’s feeling dozy. 

It’s real awkward and takes forever to get Cas bundled up right, and then he’s just kind of lying there on top of the sheets, like an enormous, grumpy baked potato. 

“I could easily break out of these restraints,” he says in a pissy tone after Dean has crawled in and turned off the light, and Dean rolls over to tell him “no shit”, but then he has to stop himself because the guy is already asleep.

Eventually they upgrade to a version made out of some of those trendy weighted blanket things, a few yards of parachute silk, and a whole lot of velcro. The dude looks so damn peaceful that Dean is honestly a little jealous.

*he doesn’t, actually. 

 18.  There’s a sunny afternoon that isn’t the usual Kansas is trying to murder you level of humid so Dean rolls the Impala out into the street for a wash. Cas helps him out a bit initially, although tragically not in a way that involves removing any unnecessary articles of clothing, but Deans sends him to grab a new tub of wax from the shed and he never comes back. After half an hour Dean needs a beer break and goes looking for him, expecting to find Cas lost in thought over whether Turtle Wax is made of actual turtles, or is made to put on actual turtles. Instead he finds Cas crouched on the shimmering pavement at the back of the driveway, sun beating down on him like it has a personal vendetta, and he’s got both wings stretched out real low above the ground. Dean kind of flips out because it’s the type of pose that just screams “stabbed in gut by angel blade” or “migraine from Hell, literally.”

Then Cas looks up, which pulls his wings up a smidge too, which in turn reveals that fully half a dozen neighborhood cats are lounging in the shady patch beneath his wings, spread out on the concrete like blobs of furry peanut butter. No, it’s actually eight cats. There are eight cats.

“Ling-Ling was feeling a little overheated,” Cas says, as if this explains everything. 

And, you know what, at this point, it does.

 19.  Dean has faith that eventually Sam or Cas or the third demon from the left in the second row will turn up a solution for the whole business. Castiel will get to tuck those bad boys back into the secret wing-closet dimension and he won’t have to worry about getting stuck in stairwells anymore, or being reported to the FAA (again). Then they can finally pack up the house, plaster over the more egregious spots of drywall damage, and go back to killing things outside of the tri-county area. The whole thing has been a pretty embarrassing interlude for a couple of dudes who’ve kicked Satan’s ass multiple times — Sam is probably telling other hunters that they’ve been deep undercover to take out a nest of suburban vampires, or a pack of ghouls with mortgages, instead of vacuuming angel down out of the AC unit and considering a Costco membership. 

And sure, there have been some...serious pluses to the situation (see: the other list), but, in his weaker moments, Dean has to admit that he’s kind of going to miss some of the goofy, irritating shit, too — like finding a six-inch feather in the veggie crisper (how? why?), or watching Cas fwap his wings out just in time to accidentally clothesline a jogger, or even the strangely compelling, sorta cheesy smell that starts to float around the house if Cas goes a little too long between hosedowns. 

He has actually grown fond of this shit. Which is 100% the least sexy thing on earth, it’s some genuinely, seriously pathetic goo goo crap, and that’s why nobody will ever hear a fucking word about it. People will ask “so what’s it like, with the wings” and Dean will waggle his eyebrows suggestively and review the highlight reel over an inadvisable amount of rail whiskey. His secret’s safe with, well. Him.

 20.  Seriously though, the bird mites. 

Gross.

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 14

OK SO APPARENTLY I MISSED POSTING LAST WEEKS CHAPTER??? I mean I was panicking about going on holiday, BUT STILL?? THE FACT THAT I DIDN'T EVEN REALISE. Guys if I don't post feel free to ask me why because 9/10 times it's my dumb adhd ass forgetting cuz she's stressed. But on the bright side - I GOT INTO UNIVERSITY!!! So I'm in a very good mood rn and managed to write this entire chapter in less than an hour. It hasn't been proofread, but I'm gonna have to do that another time. Enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 1732

Warnings: Mentions of Minor and Major Injuries from last chapter.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

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< Chapter 13 // Chapter 14 // Chapter 15 >

Part 2: Chapter 14 -

Thanks, I hate it.

Skreigh (Definition): To utter a harsh abrupt scream (Noun / Origin: Gaelic / Sk·r·ay)

Eventually, Kay lifted her head up. Her grey eyes were rimmed by a crimson red as they blinked up as the two of us, and if you looked closely, you could see a tremble in her hands as they came up to wipe at her face.

Bilbo immediately sped into action, marching over to the bed and swiping the second blanket that laid at the end. Shaking it out of its folds, he draped it over Kay’s shoulders, and I handed over her tea, making sure that the shaking in her limbs didn’t spill the hot liquid down her front. Taking a small sip, she let out a shaky sigh.

“Are you okay?”

Bilbo was the first to break the silence with his question, kneeling down in front of my friend, looking at her with both concern and slight fear.

Kay nodded. Bilbo got up, murmuring something about food helping before he left for what was probably the kitchen. I waited a second before speaking.

“That was so scary.” I whispered, too shocked about the ordeal to take note of my volume.

“I’m fine, really.” Kay croaked, taking another sip of tea.

“Kay, I thought you were dying.” I protested, “What happened?”

She opened her mouth, taking a few seconds to get the words out.

“I wanted to tell Bilbo about where we came from, where our home is and–” She welled up, taking deep breaths to calm herself down as I waited patiently in silence. “My head just started to hurt. Like, worse than the concussion, as if someone stuck knives in both sides of my brain and shimmied them around. And then… I tried again to say something out loud and my throat just closed up.”

I shuffled over next to her, and she leant on me, resting her head on my shoulder as she cradled the tea in her hand.

“I guess I also thought I was dying.”

I tensed up at her words, now scared about what would happen to me if I tried to do anything similar, whilst simultaneously being scared for Kay. Though I was brought back out of my thoughts at the sound of her voice again.

“–It was as if something didn’t want me saying anything.”

I felt the hairs on my neck stand up at those words, and I suddenly got the god-awful feeling – you know – the one where you feel like you’re being watched. But I knew that surely, we couldn’t be, since the only door was closed and the curtains drawn. But that attempted reassurance did nothing to stifle the uneasy sensation that grazed itself along the back of my neck and down the sides of my arms.

“Maybe that something doesn’t want people finding out about us?” I suggested to try and reassure Kay, and also distract myself from that weird feeling. “It could be to protect us.”

“Protect us from what?” She whispered nervously.

“Perhaps from those who… want to use our knowledge to cause harm?”

I felt Kay’s head shift on my shoulder slightly, and I could see the way her brows furrowed in confusion.

“What knowledge? Half the stuff we know is too advanced for them. Like, not to brag, but A-Level Sciences are something they’re a long while away from understanding.”

I nodded in agreement, feeling a small smile appear on my face at the thought of being the smarter one for once. Though all those thoughts were washed away as an answer to Kay’s question came to mind.

“Maybe… knowledge of what is to come?”

Kay froze.

“Shit. You’re right.” She hissed.

A beat passed as more thoughts invaded my mind. One stood out, and I quickly shuffled to sit opposite Kay, facing her.

“We need to find out what day it is.” I blurted.

“Day? I heard Bilbo say what day it was earlier, but it was a weird word…” She mentioned, scratching at her head in thought.

“Can you remember what it was?” I asked, the desperation in my voice crawling through.

“I’m pretty sure it began with an M?” She replied.

I immediately racked my brain, sifting through all the obscure Middle Earth facts I had read over the years. I knew that the Shire had its own calendar, including days of the week. They were the same as our days of the week, but some days had a different name. From what I could recall, Sunday and Monday remained the same, and I could easily remember that Tuesday was Trewsday, due to them both sounding so similar, but the rest were still tucked away, hidden in the confines of my mind that only resurfaced once in a blue moon, and believe me, it is as frustrating as it sounds.

“Mer-something?” She added.

“Mersday!” I half yelled. “I think that means Thursday?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” She said confused.

I fiddled with the corner of the blanket that was draped over Kay, then twisted towards the door.

“BILBO?!”

A crash was heard, then the rapid slapping of feet on wood, before Bilbo rounded the corner with frantic eyes.

“Yes?!” he gasped.

“What’s the date?” I asked with a smile.

He paused, a deadpan look on his face as he realised no one was dying again, and he straightened up with a heave, in an attempt to retrieve his breath.

“Date?”

We both nodded with a grin, and with an unamused sigh, he answered.

“It’s Mersday, the twenty-ninth of September, if you must know.” He huffed with a shrug, slapping his hands on his legs. “Any other obscure things you wish to know, after almost dying for no reason?”

The two of us looked at each other, and he rolled his eyes with a groan.

“Yes, what?” He asked sarcastically.

“The year?” I said.

He gave us a strange look, as he has done every time we did something out of the ordinary over the last couple days.

“Twentyyy… nine, thirty nine.” He answered slowly.

“Thirty-nine?” I repeated.

“Y-yes.” He said exasperated.

“Ok,” I said as I did the math in my head, before looking back up at Bilbo. “Thank you.”

He nodded slowly, a little unsure about what just went on in the last few minutes, and began turning back towards the door.

“That’s no problem. I’m gonna… make myself a cup of…” He pointed awkwardly at the doorway, “Chamomile. Yep. Chamo – Goodnight.”

He disappeared promptly, and I twisted back towards Kay.

“So it seems that we’re a little early.” I whispered.

“For the…” She made a walking motion with her fingers.

“Journey, yes.” I nodded. “A whole 20 months before Gandalf shows up, if I’m correct.”

Kay grunted in frustration, most likely at the thought of waiting for an entire year and eight months for Gandalf to commence O.D.R – Operation Dwarf Rave, in other words. Or Bag End’s demise, if you will.

Stifling a yawn, I lifted Kay’s arm up to squint at the time on her Hello Kitty watch she had retrieved from her suitcase earlier, to see it was almost midnight. I got to my feet and shuffled over to the door.

“Right, I’m gonna head to bed and attempt to rid my brain of the image of you dying. And you’re gonna sleep until you’re fully energised after all –” I gestured at her, “–that.”

She nodded in agreement, and flopped onto her bed, wrapping her arms around her teddy.

“And no talking about our world.” I said in a mocking strict voice.

Kay rolled her eyes at me, and I ducked through the doorway as a pillow flew in my direction. I yelled goodnight as I made my way back through the house to my room, extinguishing the low burning candles on my way, allowing the darkness to follow me until I reached the glow of Bilbo’s room, who was already watching the doorway as my footsteps neared.

“Is she alright now?” he asked, a slight undertone of worry in his voice.

I nodded. “Yea she’s gone to bed. Still a little shaky, but she’s managed to calm down.”

“Ok.” He said, reassuring himself with a nod, before looking back up at me. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I smiled as we both bid each other goodnight, and I carried on down the hallway. Ducking under the last archway, I finally made it to my room and closed the door behind me. Taking the last lit candle, I placed it on my bedside as I changed out of my clothes into one of Bilbo’s nightgowns, which acted as more of a shirt for me. Shuffling under the covers, I turned around towards the headboard. Manoeuvring the pillows around, I took some and scrunched them in an out in an attempt to fluff them up. Placing the final one down with a pat, I kept my body facing the head of the bed as a leant over to the candle. Opening my mouth slightly, I prepared to blow out the flame, only to halt in my tracks.

I felt myself freeze in place at the sound of a rustle within the room. Moving only my eyes to the left, I stared in the direction of the noise, which sounded like something heavy being knocked around. It was soon silent again, only the sound of the wind and the faint hoot of a distant owl from outside, along with the roaring of blood from my rapidly beating heart, could be heard.

Slowly but surely, I turned my head, until I was finally able to see the entirety of the dimly lit room. Staring with wide eyes, my sight fell upon the wardrobe in the corner.

Whilst being half the size of my one at home, it was still large enough to hide someone, which was exactly what I was panicking about. As silently as I could, I slipped off the bed, candlestick in hand, along with the small stool from another corner, and I crept towards the tall piece of furniture.

Now, I understand that in horror films, this is exactly how someone gets killed, but I needed my sleep, and I wasn’t going to let some hobbit burglar that wasn’t Bilbo take that away from me.

Pointing the stool legs towards the doors, I placed the candle on the chest of drawers next to the wardrobe, and slowly stretched out my hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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