#Yule jewelry

[transcendingblood]

I made a Mary Lwyd necklace! It contains mistletoe, peppermint, cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, pine needles, frankincense and myrrh!

[thelien-art]

Úmaiar of Aulë

Just a little hand and light study in the middle of the night of Saruman and Sauron gossiping through the Palantíri as old colleagues turned enemies turned colleagues do...

[pitter-patter-pottah]

Outfits/makeup/accessories/hairstyles that my HL MCs would wear to the Yule Ball (feel free to draw any/all of these, preferably in a realistic or semi-realistic art slyle, best done digitally, if you'd like!) None of the images are made by me, they are all from free image sites, including Pexels, Pixabay, Freepik and I think Unsplash too!

Cyrene Dumbledore, aka Cyan, Rene, or Cyber-rene (Cyber-rene only in modern AU drawings/roleplays) who would definitely go with Eric Northcott or perhaps Gareth Weasley, her hair would be all long, glossy, and wavy, swept to the side and colored in an ombre of light blue, dark blue, bright red, dark red, rose-y blonde, and golden blonde, although in-game it's just dark blue and tied back in a box braid bun, and in-game her eyebrows are purple but she'd change them to be dark red or black for the Yule Ball, and her eyes are light blue both in-game and in the Yule Ball (also, she's a Gryffindor):

Yuèliàng Nagereboshi, aka Yu, Liàng, Yuey, Yu And Me (only Sebastian Sallow has the R i G h T s to call her Yu And Me, though, because he's her adorable boyfriend and so he gets special treatment), Yuyu, or Yoshi Boshi because she'd like Mariokart if she lived in modern times, her hair is pink in-game but you can make it a galaxy ombre, with a few highlights in various shades of green, if you ever draw her at the Yule Ball, and you can also choose the hairstyle but I'd highly prefer one of those curly, towering Victorian updos, and her eyes are purple in-game but you can make those galaxy too for Yule Ball drawings, she'd go to the Yule Ball with Sebastian Sallow (and she's in Slytherin):

Zhihui Gushiken, aka Zhi or Hui (or Bright Hues, but only her close friends can call her that), who would go either with Everett Clopton or Amit Thakkar (she's a Ravenclaw):

Alouette Scamander, aka Alou (her hair is blonde but more of a honey blonde than anything in-game, but any shade of blonde, preferably not dirty blonde, is alright for if you ever decide to draw her at the Yule ball, please draw it the same way as the first image below and please include the accessory thing in said image- and her eyes are a bright yellow-ish green sort of color in-game, please keep them that way for any and all Yule Ball art and art in general of her) who would go with Arthur Plummly (also, she's a Hufflepuff):

[strixessabre]

Here's a rough idea of what my Saturnalia sale will look like. These will not make it in time for the 24th, so if you're happy with waiting then this is for you! I hope you guys are enjoying the winter sale as well!! It's strange to do a sale in a sale but alas!

Keep it decadent this Saturnalia with the owls!

( Strixes' Sabre)

[keirou-kun]

New Maille Monday

So this is a thing I've started trying to do on my business page on FB and I'm kinda proud of some of the stuff I've made so fuck it, I'mma do it here do because I can and none of you can stop me.

Everything in this post is available on my Squareshop and I also love to do commissions, by all means hit me up if you're interested. I'm based in the US but willing to ship worldwide!

And now, the chainmail!

[shadesofgray333]

Early bird Yule special.

Free $10 gift certificate with ANY purchase

Includes card readings

Offer ends December 1st 2024

[impscreation]

I'm wishing for snow ❄️

[leona-hawthorne]

hiya! congrats on 1k! i’ve been in and around your blog for a while and thought it was time to send my first ask. May I get a book browsing? Mattheo Riddle with a cinderella moment and "Fuck you" "Love you too"

this is so cute! thank you for requesting 🤍🫂

1k celebration navigation

UNFORGETTABLE… book browsing

ミ★ MATTHEO RIDDLE

The Great Hall gleamed, a sea of enchantment under the soft glow of floating candles and glittering stars. You hated to admit it, but the Yule Ball looked almost perfect tonight. Almost.

Your dress was stunning—flowing fabric that caught the light like moonbeams, the soft clink of subtle jewelry as you moved—but it felt wasted. Your date, some Ravenclaw whose name you didn’t care to think about, had failed to show, leaving you stranded by the punch table, clutching a glass like it was your last hope for dignity.

Mattheo Riddle, of course, had noticed.

He always noticed, though whether it was to irritate or intrigue you depended entirely on his mood. Tonight, his dark gaze trailed you across the room, unreadable behind the mask of indifference he wore so well. But behind the mask, he was stunned at your beauty tonight. Well, you’d always been beautiful—he couldn’t deny that—but it was different tonight.

“Trouble in paradise?” his voice cut through the hum of music and chatter, low and smooth, as he sidled up to you. That mask of indifference—it was impenetrable, even if his heart was racing at the way your side profile looked in this light, with your hair all done up and pulled back over your bare shoulders.

You didn’t look at him. “Go away, Riddle.”

“That’s no way to speak to your knight in shining armor.”

You scoffed, finally turning to face him. It was weird—you could’ve sworn his eyes held a sparkle of warmth. “You’re the farthest thing from that.”

“And yet,” he smirked, leaning casually against the table, “here I am. Let me guess—your date’s a no-show, and now you’re thinking of leaving before anyone notices.”

Your jaw tightened, heat rising to your cheeks. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but you’d rather hex yourself than admit it. “What do you want?”

“To dance,” he said simply, like it wasn’t the most absurd thing in the world.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He straightened, offering a hand with the kind of confidence that bordered on infuriating. “Come on, princess. You can’t let that dress go to waste.”

You stared at his outstretched hand, skepticism warring with the ache in your chest. The last thing you wanted was to spend the night alone, but accepting help from Mattheo Riddle? That felt like surrender.

“I don’t need your pity, Mattheo,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

“Who said anything about pity?” His lips curled into a smirk. “Maybe I just want the best-dressed girl here to make me look good for a change.”

Your scoff was automatic, but a flicker of curiosity sparked in your chest. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet,” he quipped, stepping closer, “you haven’t walked away.”

You hated that he was right. Maybe it was the warmth in his eyes, just faint enough to convince yourself it wasn’t real. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d noticed you at all, standing there alone in the middle of a crowd. Whatever it was, it made your fingers twitch toward his hand before you could stop yourself.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” you said, letting him take your hand.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly, leading you toward the dance floor.

The music swelled as you reached the center of the room. Other couples turned and swayed in perfect rhythm, their laughter and whispered words mixing with the melody. You felt the weight of their eyes as Mattheo placed a hand on your waist, his touch firm but not unwelcome.

“You’re tense,” he murmured, guiding you into the first steps of the waltz.

“Maybe that’s because I’m dancing with someone I can’t stand,” you shot back, though your voice lacked the venom you intended.

“Harsh,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You wound me.”

“You’ll live.”

But as the music carried you both, something shifted. His movements were surprisingly graceful, his confidence steady without being overbearing. For a boy who usually thrived on chaos, Mattheo Riddle was unexpectedly good at this. And worse, you found yourself relaxing—letting him lead, letting the music fill the silence between you.

“You clean up well, you know,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

You couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he echoed, his hand tightening slightly on your waist, “you’re still here.”

The night blurred into a strange kind of magic you hadn’t expected. Mattheo danced with a confidence that kept you steady, his hand firm against your back as he led you through each step. By the time the music ended, you weren’t sure whether to feel grateful or annoyed by how natural it had all seemed.

As he walked you back to your dorm, the castle was quiet, the distant echoes of the Yule Ball fading with every step. The tension between you was different now—softer, almost curious—but Mattheo, of course, couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“You know,” he drawled, breaking the silence, “you could’ve just asked me to the Ball in the first place. Would’ve saved you the trouble.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to glare at him. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged, his smirk infuriatingly intact. “I’m just saying, if I’d known you’d clean up like this, I might’ve asked you myself.”

The warmth in your chest vanished, replaced by the familiar sting of irritation. “You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, resuming your pace.

“Unbelievably charming,” he corrected, keeping stride with you. “Come on, admit it—I made your night.”

“You’re delusional,” you shot back, though your cheeks betrayed you with their lingering heat.

By the time you reached the entrance to your dorm, you were ready to leave him and his insufferable grin behind. Turning to face him, you folded your arms, fixing him with your best glare.

“Well, thanks for the dance,” you said flatly. “Now you can go back to being your usual, annoying self.”

He tilted his head, studying you with that maddeningly unreadable expression. “That’s the plan,” he said easily, but something flickered in his eyes—something that made your stomach flip.

“Good,” you replied, turning toward the door.

But as you reached for the handle, he spoke again, his tone laced with the perfect amount of cocky amusement.

“By the way, you should’ve let me kiss you on the dance floor. It would’ve made your night unforgettable.”

You froze, your hand gripping the doorknob as your head snapped back toward him. His smirk deepened at the look on your face, and you could practically feel your blood boiling.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, slamming the door shut before he could respond.

From the other side, his voice came, warm and unbothered, echoing softly through the stone.

“Love you too.”

You stared at the closed door, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried—and failed—not to think about the way he’d said it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he meant it.

And, worst of all, you couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto your lips.

[etaindelaserna]

Concepts, tropes and theories in Dramione fanfictions which have become so popular that I can't differentiate any longer if they are canon (book or movies) or not:

The pureblood families are so inbred that they have a hard time conceiving and if they do, they only ever will have one child

Draco visting Myrtle and being quite friendly with her

Hermione's first kiss was with Krum

Draco's first kiss was with Pansy

In terms of academical achievement Draco is second only to Hermione in their year

Draco is a skilled Occlumens on Snape's level

Draco befriends Crookshanks and is basically a cat dad

Hermione and Draco run into each other frequently in the library OR end up on nearby tables OR fight over books

Draco stared (all evening) at Hermione during the Yule Ball and left earlier (because he was jealous)

Pureblood courting traditions involve giving jewelry

Narcissa isn't a pureblood fanatic

Lucius disapproves of a potential relationship between Draco and Hermione but not because of blood status related reasons

Draco had a crush on Hermione since First Year

Hermione and Draco had prefect duties together

In First Year Hermione first interacted with Draco on the train (either bumped into him after his altercation with Harry OR asked him about Trevor)

Draco talks more about Hermione than about Harry to the point that even his parents are aware of her

On Valentine's Day in Second Year, Hermione got a card

Draco ripped out the page about the basilisk

Hermione could've been in Slytherin

Hermione acknowledging Draco's "keep your bushy head down" during the World Cup as a warning

Draco secretly liking Hermione's untamed hair

Narcissa is one of the first to realize the crush her son has on Hermione

Draco‘s patronus is or changes to an otter

[meelusinee]

A YULE PROPOSAL | J.P X READER

word count \ 1.1k | fluff and stuff | slash / james potter x reader

in which james asks you out to the Yule Ball author's note at the end!

A YULE PROPOSAL | JAMES POTTER X READER

James Potter was many things.

He was a cheerful kind of person. Always upbeat, always uplifting no matter what. He was popular, almost anyone wanting to be with him or be him. A bit of a jock, though caring nonetheless. Loving to a fault, fault line nonexistent in his mind.

Though one thing that anyone could tell when looking at him was that he was in love with you. 

You were always being spoiled by him. He’d get you expensive gifts, or take you on expensive trips. Small cafe dates, shopping for clothes and jewelry, or making any small gift was a specialty of his. He adored spoiling you, in any sense of the word.

And now it was Yule season coming up. He was nervous to ask you, even though he knew you'd say yes. You two were dating, after all.

So, he had to come up with a plan.

“Are you serious James?” Remus asked, eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion and desperation. “You don’t actually expect us to do this, do you?”

“Yup!” he smiled brightly at Remus. “You’re gonna do it with me, right Pads?”

“Course I am!” he chuckled brightly, standing up and patting James on the back proudly. “Anything to spend my mom’s money on useless stuff.”

“It’s not useless!” he gasped offendedly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius said, patting James on the head as best as he could. It wasn’t much, but it was an honest effort. “Whatever you say, Prongs.”

“Course it’s what I say,” he grumbled before sighing, looking at Remus and Peter. “Please?”

“10 Galleons.” Remus said sternly, holding his palm out. “I want payment or I’m not doing it. 20 and I’ll give you the best damn performance.”

“30 and I get to dress you up.” Sirius smirked, hands on his hips.

“50.” he said, voice as deadpanned as he could make it. James knew he would do it for free, that was what Remus was like. But this seemed too funny to interrupt, if he was being honest.

“Deal.” Sirius said with a wide smirk on his face, fiddling with his pockets before putting the 50 Galleons in his hand. “Pete? 50 Galleons?”

“Do I have a choice?” he asked.

“Nope.” Sirius said with a smile.

Peter sighed softly, shaking his head. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Sirius said excitedly, him and James jumping up and down.

“Okay, I have a game.” he said, pulling out a large piece of rolled paper to lay against the Common Room’s coffee table.

There was a large amount of rain hitting your window, your eyes focused on the paper that you were studying. It was nearing the end of the exams, not just Yule season.

Speaking of Yule season, you were quite excited. James hadn’t asked you to go to the ball. You knew that it was probably just stress though, so you weren’t too mad about it.

He had exams just like you, not to mention leading the Quidditch team and tolerating his friends’ pranks. Most times, you weren’t sure how he did it.

All in all, he had a lot of responsibilities.

Which is why you didn’t mind if he didn’t ask you to go to the ball. You decided to take a break from studying, looking outside of the window. Your eyes squinted to look at the different trees and forms of nature outside, the breeze running through your room.

“M’lady!” 

Your eyes squinted a bit harder as you heard someone calling, looking down at the ground. There stood Peter, one of James' friends. 

You stuck your head out of the window confusedly, looking down at him. “Pete?”

“M’lady!” he smiled brightly, though a bit awkwardly.

You chuckled at that, though you weren’t sure why he was standing in the cold like that. “Why are you just standing outside?”

“I am awaiting the Majesty.” he said, voice echoing through the night. 

“The what?” you smiled awkwardly.

Then came the sound of neighing, though you could tell it wasn’t from an actual horse. You frowned, making your way downstairs and towards the door he was standing in front of.

“What on Earth,” you muttered confusedly.

There stood James with Remus and Sirius behind him, all three of them riding the fake pony sticks you’d buy as a child at a muggle store. 

“We are here on behalf of Your Majesty, James Potter.” Sirius called out, dismounting himself from the fake horse. “He has requested your presence at the annual Yule Ball hosted in the Great Hall.”

“That rhymed,” Peter said with a small smile, chuckling softly. Sirius laughed loudly at that, with Remus stealing the paper from his hand.

“M’lady,” he said. “Sir James Potter, son of Fleamont Potter and first of his name, formally invites you, Y/N L/N, to the Yule Ball. Filled with fond fellowship and fellow acquaintances at the end of this month.”

James was standing behind Remus with a hopeful grin, the smile that you had come to love more than anything after years together.

“What is your response, Madame?” Remus said. His voice was incredibly deadpan, unlike Sirius and Peter’s laughter in the background. No doubt that he had practiced this.

“Yes,” you chuckled softly, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to figure out what was going on. In all honesty, you felt like you were in a fever dream.

“Yes!”’James cheered excitedly, jumping up and down and running around the field. Sirius followed after him in his dog form, barking excitedly as James cheered excitedly.

You chuckled quietly as you watched him run around, smiling as Peter came closer and crowned you with a paper crown.

“Thank you, Knight Pete.” you chuckled.

James eventually calmed down after a couple of minutes, walking up to you out of breath. “Hi love,”

“Hi James,” you laughed as you saw him try to catch his breath, moving the hair out of his face as best as you could. “Did you have fun?”

“I did!” he smiled gleefully, looking at you. “Did you?”

“Yes, I did.” you smiled softly.

He nodded, pulling you into a hug. “I love you,” he whispered in your ear, squeezing your body in his arms. “I really wanted you to have a good proposal. It did take me some time to think of it though.”

You smiled softly, hugging him back before you heard Sirius groaning.

“Lovebirds!” he groaned, making a ‘bleh’ sound. 

“Oh hush!” James called out, throwing a ball of paper at him before turning over to you. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Later.” you promised, kissing his lips.

He smiled brightly at that, mounting his fake sticky horse and running off. Remus said a rather fancy farewell to you, climbing on the back of Sirius’ horse and running off. Peter was last, following them all to wherever they came from.

God, you loved James.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

thanks for everything yawl are doing, it's really so amazing just how supportive all of you guys are! it's really shocking sometimes, to be honest wit you. thank you all so much, and hopefully you enjoyed!

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment, and reblog! have a happy new year lovelies!

[sylverra]

Yule Sale Shop Update!

Here's what's new this week:

Dragon blood jasper points

Amethyst with smoky quartz spheres

3" Fluorite slab

Herkimer diamonds with petroleum inclusions

Grape agate worry stones

3" Black tourmaline point

Bronze talons sphere stand

Obsidian scrying mirror

> See all our newest additions here <

Grab a coupon code below to save on your orders thru December 27th!

YULE10 - 10% off, no minimum YULE20 - 20% off $30+ YULE25 - 25% off $45+ YULE30 - 30% off $60+ YULE35 - 35% off $75+

These codes are good for all items in the Crystals, Jewelry and Home Decor collections and exclude Apothecary items.

Need something extra to bump you up to the next coupon? Check out our Under $15 and Under $5 collections!

Happy Yule, and happy shopping! ✨🎄

Browse the full catalog → See this week's secret discount item →

[transcendingblood]

New festive bell necklace containing mistletoe, peppermint, cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, pine needles, frankincense and myrrh!

[thelien-art]

December; the 8th

Advent Game: Elrond x Celebrían

How many jewelry pieces are they each wearing?

Don´t mind Elrond, he´s trying to match some Sinda and Noldo fashion together, and Celebrían is just letting him have his moment with a quiet laugh :)

Join the Advent and Yule calendar to win a drawing - rules here and all the other drawings here

[honeyed-blossom]

hehehe I’m so excited to present Valeria for this season’s Yule Ball!! HUGE SHOUTOUT TO @leaping-toadstool-caps FOR PUTTING THIS ALL TOGETHER 🫶🫶💕 I had so much with this, thank you!!

apologies for the long post!!

—————————

One could not put into words Valeria’s excitement at the approaching Winter Ball. She loved dressing up, she loved dancing, and most of all, she loved dancing with Sebastian.

Her heart had nearly leapt out of her chest when he asked her to be his date to the ball a few weeks ago…

———

Right after one of their Thursday Arithmancy classes, Sebastian had dragged her to the Undercroft. “Come on, I have something to show you,” Sebastian had insisted, sporting his signature grin.

He had revamped the Undercroft into a cozy, romantic hideaway. In the center of the room, a patch of cushions and blankets lay surrounded by all her favorite flowers. Softly flickering candles replaced the usual torches, filling the room with a warm, comforting glow. That’s when he asked her, with a bouquet in hand. “Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?”

—

She sighed happily at the memory before returning her focus to the task at hand. She had to get ready, and quickly! The dance was to start in 45 minutes and Val still had her make up and jewelry left.

Valeria spent the last 10 minutes staring at herself in the mirror. Did she look alright? Was the dress too much? Her brain raced with sabotaging thoughts. Would Sebastian like it? With a soft groan, she twirled around once last time before rushing out of her room.

She took careful, but hurried steps towards their meeting point. Her muscles tensed as she made her way down the staircase, praying she wouldn’t slip and tumble down. As she got to the final set of stairs, she finally spotted him.

“Sebastian!”

some at-the-ball doodles :>

[inky-writing]

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Warnings: mention of death, of dead people, pagan holiday, ESME, anyway, its long, sorry for any typo...

Word count: 3,399

Book II - Chapter 4: Yule secrets

December 2005

The Christmas season had settled over Forks, though the cheer it brought seemed muted in the Swan household. Bella, still a ghost of herself, rarely left her room. She avoided the festive decorations lining the streets and the cheery music playing in stores, retreating deeper into her sadness. When she did speak, it was in short answers to Charlie or Y/N, never more than what was strictly necessary.

Y/N tried to remain optimistic, but it was hard to ignore the weight of the silence that hung over their house. Bella wasn’t the only one struggling, though Y/N’s struggles were far different.

The strange occurrences that had plagued her life in recent months had only grown more bizarre. Objects still appeared seemingly out of nowhere whenever she thought about them, and the black cat continued to follow her wherever she went, its orange eyes watching her intently.

One cold afternoon in early December, Y/N decided to pick up groceries after school. Charlie had forgotten his list on the kitchen counter that morning, and she figured she could knock it out quickly before heading home.

The supermarket was crowded, filled with shoppers stocking up for the holidays. Y/N wove her way through the aisles with her cart as she ticked off items on the list. Milk, eggs, bread, canned soup, cereals… it was all mundane, but it was a welcome distraction from the strange whirlwind her life had become.

As she rounded a corner into the baking supplies aisle, she bumped into an elderly woman.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Y/N said, stepping back quickly.

The woman smiled faintly, her piercing grey eyes twinkling with an odd intensity. “No need to apologize, dear.”

Y/N couldn’t help but stare. The woman was very old, her face was lined with deep wrinkles, her skin papery and thin, but there was something about her that seemed… ageless. Her hair, though streaked with white, hung long and thick over her shoulders, and her posture was surprisingly straight for someone her age.

But what really caught Y/N’s attention was the necklace around the woman’s neck.

It was almost identical to the one Y/N wore, except the stone in its center was a glowing white, almost translucent, apophyllite instead of amethyst. The intricate metalwork surrounding the stone was the same, though, delicate spirals and runes that seemed far older than anything you’d find in a modern jewelry store.

The woman noticed Y/N’s gaze and smiled again, this time with an air of knowing. “You have questions,” she said simply.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

The woman nodded toward the amulet around Y/N’s neck. “About that.”

Instinctively, Y/N’s hand flew to the necklace, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the amethyst. “How do you know?”

The woman tilted her head, her smile never wavering. “Because I’ve seen others like you before.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Others like me? What do you mean?”

The woman’s gaze seemed to pierce straight through her. “It’s not something we should discuss here. The walls have ears.” She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a small slip of paper, writing something on it before pressing it into Y/N’s hand. “If you want answers, come here tomorrow at noon.”

Before Y/N could say another word, the woman turned and walked away, disappearing around the corner of the aisle.

Y/N stared at the slip of paper in her hand. It had an address scrawled on it, along with the word Tomorrow underlined twice.

Her mind raced. Who was this woman? How did she know about the amulet? And what did she mean?

When she finally left the supermarket, her hands were shaking.

The house was quiet when Y/N returned, save for the faint hum of the television in the living room. Charlie was watching a football game, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Bella’s door was shut, as usual.

“Got everything on the list?” Charlie asked without looking away from the screen.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, setting the bags on the kitchen counter.

She put the groceries away mechanically, her thoughts consumed by the encounter at the supermarket. She considered telling Charlie about the old woman but decided against it. He would probably just tell her to stay away from strangers, and she didn’t have the energy to argue.

Instead, she retreated to her room, locking the door behind her.

Sitting on her bed, she pulled out the slip of paper and stared at the address. Her fingers brushed against the amulet at her neck, and for the first time, she wondered if it had been a mistake to start wearing it.

The black cat was sitting outside the house again, its orange eyes glowing in the moonlight at it starred intently at her window.

The next morning dawned cold and misty, the kind of day where the fog clung to the ground and muted the world. Y/N couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in her chest since her encounter with the old woman at the supermarket the previous evening. The slip of paper with the address sat on her nightstand, the handwriting etched into her mind as though it carried some weight she didn’t yet understand.

By mid-morning, her curiosity got the best of her. Putting on her leather jacket, scarf, and gloves, she grabbed the paper and slipped out of the house, leaving a note for Charlie saying she was going to run errands. Bella wouldn’t notice her absence, she hadn’t noticed much of anything since the Cullens had left.

The address led Y/N to the outskirts of Forks, down a narrow dirt road flanked by pines. She had almost convinced herself she’d gone the wrong way when she spotted the house.

It was small, like something out of an old storybook. Vines twisted around the wooden porch posts, and colorful, wildflowers grew in neat beds around the yard, defying the snow. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the faint scent of lavender and sage drifted through the air.

Y/N hesitated at the gate, her fingers brushing against the amulet at her neck. For a moment, she thought about turning back. Then, the door opened, and the old woman stepped out onto the porch.

“I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind,” the woman said, her voice carrying a touch of amusement.

Y/N took a deep breath and walked through the gate.

Inside, the house was warm and cozy, a contrast to the chill outside. The air was filled with the scent of herbs and spices, and every surface was covered in books, jars, and trinkets.

“Sit down, dear,” the woman said, gesturing to a sage green sofa.

Y/N sat, her eyes darting around the room. The woman moved about the kitchen, setting out two delicate teacups and a teapot.

“I imagine you have questions,” the woman said, her back to Y/N as she reached for a jar of tea leaves.

“A few,” Y/N admitted.

The woman smiled. “We’ll get to them. But first, let’s have some tea.”

She carried the teapot to the table and set it down. That’s when things took a turn.

As Y/N watched, the teapot tipped itself, pouring steaming tea into one of the cups. Then it straightened and moved to the second cup, repeating the action before settling back in place.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “What the…?!”

Before she could finish her sentence, the room spun around her. Her vision blurred, and the last thing she saw before everything went black was the old woman rushing to her side.

When Y/N opened her eyes, she was lying on the couch. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and the same warm, herbal scent filled the air. The old woman was sitting in a chair nearby, her hands folded in her lap.

“You fainted,” the woman said, her voice calm. “I suppose I shouldn’t have let the teapot serve itself. It’s been a long time since we’ve had someone new in the family.”

“Family?” Y/N sat up slowly, her head pounding.

The woman smiled gently. “Yes, my dear. I suppose I should introduce myself properly. My name is Callista. I’m your grandmother’s sister, your grand-aunt, if you will.”

Y/N stared at her, the words struggling to sink in. “Did you… knew my mom?”

Callista nodded, her expression tinged with sadness. “I did. Though I haven’t seen since she left. She left the family when she reached eighteen, determined to marry your father despite our objections.”

“Why did you object?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Callista sighed. “Because your father wasn’t one of us. Your mother came from a long line of witches, Y/N. Magic runs in your veins, just as it does in mine. But your father was human, and your grandmother feared their union would weaken our legacy.”

Y/N’s heart ached at the thought of her parents. “So she left?”

“She did,” Callista said softly. “She chose love over tradition, if I must say. And though it broke our hearts to lose her, I never blamed her for it. I guess she still practiced magic in her own way, even after she left, small things, I imagine. But she never contacted us again. Learning her death has been terrible… Your grandmother retreated into the Canadian forest just after, I don’t have news anymore…”

Callista paused, her gaze searching Y/N’s face. “And now, here you are.”

Callista then rose from her chair and disappeared into another room. When she returned, she was holding a large, black leather-bound book that looked extremely old. The cover was embossed with symbols and runes, and the edges of the pages were gilded.

“This,” Callista said, setting the book on the table in front of Y/N, “is your mother’s grimoire. It contains centuries of knowledge, spells, rituals, history, and things she added. She didn’t take it with her when she left. Everything you’ll need to understand who you are and what you’re capable of is in here.”

Y/N reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against the worn leather. “I don’t know if I can do this. It all seems so unreal.”

Callista placed a hand on her cheek. “You can. It’s in your blood. And you won’t be alone, I’ll help you, if you’ll let me.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind racing. Everything Callista had said felt overwhelming, like stepping into a world she hadn’t even known existed. But at the same time, something deep inside her stirred, a sense of belonging she hadn’t felt in years.

“I’ll try,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

Callista smiled, her eyes gleaming with pride. “That’s all I ask, my dear. Now, let’s begin.”

Two weeks later

The days leading up to Christmas passed in quiet monotony for the Swan household. Bella still barely left her room, her absence a ghostly presence that hung over the house. Y/N tried not to let it affect her, but she could feel the tension like a weight pressing down on her.

Every week, Y/N made the trip to Callista’s house, and sometimes to the esoteric shop that Callista had introduced her to just days after they’d met. The shop was tucked into the edge of town, its windows filled with crystals, herbs, and candles. It smelled of incense and earth, a comforting combination that felt like home.

In the back room, Callista guided her through the basics of potion-making and telekinesis. Y/N’s progress with telekinesis was slow but steady; she could now move small objects across a table or float them in the air for brief moments.

Still, she felt the weight of her potential. Callista had assured her that her other abilities would reveal themselves when she was ready, but the anticipation gnawed at her.

And now with school out for winter break, Y/N spent her days trying to fill the silence. She and Charlie had fallen into a rhythm, dining together at the kitchen table, watching old movies on the couch, and decorating the house for Christmas. Charlie seemed grateful for her presence, though his worry about Bella was palpable.

The decorations they hung were simple: twinkling lights around the windows, garlands draped over the fireplace, and a tree they adorned with ornaments.

But Y/N couldn’t help but add her own touches. After hours spent pouring over the grimoire Callista had given her, she’d learned about the traditions of Yule and how closely they tied to her own magic.

She collected pinecones from the forest behind the house, stringing them together with cinnamon sticks and small bundles of rosemary to hang on the tree. She placed oranges studded with cloves in bowls around the house, their warm, spicy scent filling the air. And she crafted a wreath of evergreen branches to hang on the front door, weaving ribbons of gold and red through the boughs.

December 21st, 2005

By the time Yule arrived, Y/N had memorized the pages of her grimoire about the holiday. She knew that Yule marked the longest night of the year, a time when the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. It was a night to honor the dead, to reflect on the year past, and to welcome the returning light.

That evening, after a quiet dinner with Charlie, Y/N retreated to her room. She lit a small cluster of candles on her desk and opened her grimoire, sitting cross-legged on her bed with the book resting on her lap. The soft glow of the flames flickered across the pages as she practiced simple spells, her focus sharpening with each word spoken.

A faint meowling interrupted her concentration. She looked up, startled, and saw the black cat perched on the windowsill outside her room. Its orange eyes gleamed in the darkness, almost glowing.

“How did you even get up here?” she muttered, crossing the room to open the window.

The cat stepped inside with an air of ownership, leaping onto her bed and curling up on the knitted blanket. Y/N hesitated, then shrugged. “I guess you’re staying, then.”

The cat flicked its tail as if to confirm her words, its eyes watching her.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere in her room grew heavier, charged with energy. It was almost midnight, the hour when the veil between the living and the dead was said to be at its thinnest.

Y/N felt an inexplicable pull, a need to acknowledge the moment. She pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen, her hands trembling slightly as she began to write.

The first letter was to her mother. She wrote about the memories she could still recall, the warmth of her embrace, the sound of her laughter, the way she used to hum the same melody while cooking. She thanked her for the love and strength she had passed down, and for the magic that now felt like a lifeline.

The second letter was for her father. She wrote about how much she missed him, about how Charlie often reminded her of him. She told him about her life in Forks, about the struggles and the small moments of joy. She wished he could have been there to see her grow.

When she finished, she folded the letters carefully and placed them on the windowsill, letting the candlelight illuminate them.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, tears rolling on her cheeks. “For everything.”

The air in the room seemed to shift, a soft breeze brushing against her skin despite the closed window. The cat purred softly from its place on the bed, its eyes half-closed as if it, too, understood the significance of the moment.

As the clock struck midnight, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over her. She didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time, she felt more connected to her family, to her magic, to herself.

And as she lay down to sleep, the black cat curled up in her arms, its presence comforting.

Later that night

Y/N stirred awake around 3 a.m., the room quiet except for the soft purring of the black cat nestled in her arms. Its warmth was comforting, but her thoughts were anything but. Sleep had eluded her ever since the letters she’d written, and now her mind wandered, seemingly without direction.

But there was a pattern. A name. A face.

“Carlisle,” she murmured, almost afraid to say it aloud.

The thought came unbidden, like a whisper from deep inside her soul. She tried to push it away, but it lingered, persistent and nagging. Why was she thinking about him? It wasn’t as though she hadn’t thought of him before, he’d been so kind to her during the summer, so understanding. But this was different.

She wondered where he was. What he was doing. Was he with his family? The questions swirled in her mind, growing heavier with each passing second.

Then, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt something. It was faint at first, like the lightest tug on her heart, but it grew stronger, more defined. It felt as though there was an invisible string connecting her to him, a thread woven into the very fabric of her being.

She closed her eyes and imagined pulling on it, curious to see what would happen.

Carlisle’s pov

Thousands of miles away, in a quiet corner of London, Carlisle Cullen sat alone in the small flat he’d rented for the time being. The room was sparse, elegantly decorated with neutral tones and clean lines that reflected his meticulous nature. Yet, despite the calm surroundings, his mind was a storm.

Esme had left for Australia nearly two weeks ago, insisting she wanted to visit friends she hadn’t seen in decades. She had convinced him to stay behind, claiming she needed “girl time.” At first, he had acquiesced, not wanting to deny her something so simple.

But now, as he sat in the stillness of the night, he knew the truth. Esme was responsible for everything, her manipulations, her deceit. He had realised she had powers. He could feel it like a shadow pressing on his mind, the edges of it fraying at the seams. She hadn’t been able to maintain her hold entirely, and now he could see her actions for what they were.

Still, he hadn’t confronted her. Not yet. He needed time to think. About her lies, about how he now felt she wasn’t his mate. He hadn’t say anything to the others, but as each day passed, the weight of the truth bore down on him, and he felt increasingly alone.

He sighed, leaning back in the armchair as he gazed out the window at the city lights. His thoughts drifted to Y/N. He remembered her laughter, the way she’d looked at him with such trust, and the strange sense of peace he’d felt in her presence.

A sudden jolt broke through his reverie, a pull so sharp and undeniable that it made him sit up straight. His hand instinctively went to his chest as though the sensation were physical. It wasn’t pain, exactly, but an ache, a longing.

And then a whisper in his mind, soft but insistent.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 11 a.m. on December 22nd. The pull intensified, a silent demand that he couldn’t ignore.

“Forks,” he murmured, the word heavy with meaning.

He didn’t know why, but he knew he had to return. Even if just for a few days.

Y/Ns pov

Y/N opened her eyes after pulling on the string, the feeling of it fading into the back of her mind. The cat shifted in her arms, looking up at her with its piercing orange eyes.

“Did I... do something wrong?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

The cat only blinked, purring louder as if to reassure her.

Y/N shook her head, trying to shake off the lingering sense of connection. Whatever had just happened, she couldn’t explain it. But for the first time in weeks, she felt a flicker of hope.

Chapter 5 >>>

Note: HEHE, so Carlisle is now aware of Esme, but, what will he do about it???

Tag list: @inky-bonnie

[gravehags]

satan baby

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: yule with the papas, secondo and terzo fighting over caroling, gift giving, and maybe...kissing

Words: 1,877

Summary: It's the most wonderful time of the year.

a/n: it's been a while my children. eat up and merry christmas to those who celebrate. a little present from me to you.

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

“This is Secret Santa, you’re only supposed to get a gift for one person,” you sigh, currently inundated with a pile of presents on your lap and by your feet. “What’s all this?”

“Correction, bella, this is Secret Satan where you get as many gifts for whomever you like, sì? And you’re our star this year.”

Terzo smiles warmly at you as you fidget with the fabric of your festive dark green velvet skirt. You’ve all gathered in the Papas’ private living room, the mantle of the roaring fireplace positively bedecked with greenery and a massive tree opposite. A couple weeks ago you and Copia were put in charge of creating the orange garland, a not insignificant task given the height and breadth of the noble fir. Speaking of Copia, he is sitting in a deep leather armchair, stroking his mustache thoughtfully and giving you a funny look. When you give him an exaggerated wink his lips curl into a smile and his eyes dart away as his cheeks flush.

“Another cup, signorina?”

Primo is currently standing next to the hot plate on the side table, stirring the large cauldron of mulled wine. You really shouldn’t, you already are feeling a little woozy and warm but what the hell. Christmas, right? Or Yule, rather. You nod eagerly and Primo doles out a hefty amount of the dark liquid into a mug with little rats on it, passing it to Secondo who passes it to you as Terzo hands you yet another gift to open. So far you’ve unwrapped a beautiful homemade perfume from Primo and a garnet jewelry set which you are sure is quite old and quite expensive from Terzo. Copia still clings to the small present on his lap that bears a tag with your name on it, unwilling to see it in your hands just yet. One of these presents alone would be more than enough to dazzle you but the Papas insist on spoiling you. Who are you to object?

“This one is from me,” Secondo says, smiling slightly sinisterly over the rim of his mug.

“Ominous, but okay,” you say as you unwrap the box with caution. When you gingerly open the lid and see what’s inside, you let out an undignified screech. Primo, Terzo, and Copia exchange alarmed expressions as you reach in and lift the stuffed creature from its confines to marvel at it. It’s positively hideous - a large round potato-like head, red vestments, even a glittering pectoral grucifix. You’re beaming.

“Is that supposed to be me?” Copia says, outraged and red-faced.

“He’s perfect,” you coo, holding him against you in a tight hug. “Look at his stupid little face!”

“Ah, sì, he looks just like you,” Terzo says with a grin.

“He–it–looks nothing like me. No mustache. No sideburns. Eyes are all wrong!”

“He’s beautiful,” you say, cradling the monstrosity in your arms with all the grace of Mary. “Thank you Secondo.”

“I made him myself, you know.”

“A man of many talents!”

“A man of many war crimes,” Copia growls from his spot, flinging himself backwards in his chair and crossing his arms.

“Don’t speak about our son that way!” you cry, pressing your palms to the ears of the small stuffed man.

“Our son?” Copia cocks his head with interest and the brothers all look at you in silence.

“Y-yes. He looks - mostly - like you and I am his mother. Therefore we are his parents. So step up.”

When you reach out to hand the stuffed cardinal to the real thing, he sighs and takes it in his hands. 

“He is infernal,” Copia says, placing him sitting up on his lap. “But I accept him as mine.” The sight makes you scramble for your phone to take as many pictures as possible.

“What a beautiful family moment,” Terzo says, wiping a fake tear from his cheek. “Copia, I think you’re the only one left who hasn’t exchanged presents!”

Handing the doll back to you he hesitates to reach for the gift still in his lap. Primo, ever wise, interrupts to ask if anyone wants dessert while you reach down and grab the present you’ve brought for Copia. Terzo and Secondo haul themselves up with much grumbling and follow Primo out of the room to help.

“I thought you said you were only bringing a present for one person? Primo was who you drew, sì?”

“Yeah I know but,” you scoot your chair closer to him, “you’re special. You’ve been on my side since day one. I couldn’t not get you something. You mean too much to me.”

Copia blushes the fiercest shade of red you’ve seen yet as you hand him the heavy package.

“Grazie, cara mia,” he says quietly, mismatched eyes boring earnestly into yours.

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t opened it.”

With a smile he begins unwrapping the festive paper. When he finishes and sees what is inside his heart jumps.

“Dolcezza,” he breathes and you blush just as fiercely as him at the nickname, “this is wonderful.”

It had taken you a lot of time and a lot of money (worth every cent as far as you are concerned) to locate an antique facsimile of William Blake’s art. Admittedly, you had used a lot of the Ministry’s excellent resources to find it but all the effort was worth it for this moment. When Copia looks up at you, you swear there are tears in his eyes.

“I have never before received a gift such as this, cara. Thank you.”

When you reach out and cover his gloved hand with yours and squeeze firmly, it’s as if his whole body sinks into itself. Softly, he picks up your hand and brings it to his lips - a sweet echo of his action from the first day you met. It takes everything within you not to knock all the items out of Copia’s lap and climb in it yourself. In all honesty, you’re moments away from doing just that when the Papas return to the room with much clamor. Your heart sinks as Copia drops your hand and clears his throat, and you return to your chair from your half-risen position. When Copia looks at you and points to the small box next to him, you mouth the words “later” with a smile before accepting a comically large slice of yule log from Secondo. The rest of the evening is relatively quiet apart from the dueling rendition of “Carol of the Bells” that Secondo and Terzo fight over while Primo sleeps contentedly in his comfy armchair. When the Papas begin loudly arguing in Italian you signal to Copia and begin gathering your things in a large brown bag. Without a word the two of you slip out the door and when you hear a crash and Primo’s deep bellow ringing out you skitter away down the hall.

“Looks like we made it out just in time,” you giggle as the two of you finally slow.

“Eh, sì, it always ends like this,” Copia says with a huff and an eye roll, “they can’t help themselves.”

Copia is unaware of where he is standing but oh, you certainly are. This looks like a perfect place to stop.

“Not trying to be pushy but I think you were going to give me something?” you say, cocking your head and setting down your bag. 

“Ah…yes,” he sets down the book you gifted him and thrusts out his hand with the fastidiously wrapped present within it. “For you.”

You take the gift and open it delicately and slowly and see him chew on his bottom lip slightly. 

“If you don’t like it I–”

“Hush,” you say simply as you open the box. Inside, resting on dark red velvet is a simple and small golden grucifix on a delicate matching chain.

“You always wanted to be a part of the Ministry,” he says quietly, fussing with his gloves, “and I hope this lets you know that we accept you. We’ve always accepted you. I–”

You remain silent as you set down the box and put the necklace on while Copia watches. When you finish your hands don’t return to your sides but rather come up to cradle the Cardinal’s cheeks. He’s frozen as you stand just like this, thumbs brushing against his sideburns and a look on your face that he doesn’t think he has the capacity to describe. Your cheeks positively glow, your eyes seem lit from within and your lips are curled into a soft smile. They part momentarily for you to take a deep, steadying breath - inhale, exhale - before you lean forwards and gently place your lips on his. The ground shifts beneath him, the world is spinning as the fingers of your right hand begin to slide along his jaw and you tilt your head. You hesitate only for a moment, pulling back slightly before Copia grabs you insistently by the back of the head and pushes his lips back against yours. He tastes of mulling spices and his mustache tickles your upper lip, as you always knew it would. When you finally need to catch your breath he barely relinquishes his grip on you, making you laugh and kiss his chin.

“Why,” he whispers, thumb running against your cheekbone. “Why me?”

You lean forward and rest your head against his chest, close enough to hear the thud of his heart.

“It was always you,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist and stroking his back. “Always. From the moment you kissed my hand the day I was hired to the moment you comforted me when I was sad and lonely. From the moment you shared your rats with me. From the moment you put me to bed when I was drunk. All of it, Copia. All of you. That’s why.”

When you pull back to look at him, there’s definitely no mistaking the tears in his eyes this time and when he frantically pulls you in for another kiss, you can feel the wetness on your own cheeks. When you pull away with a giggle he looks concerned.

“Amore mio, what is it?”

You point upwards to the healthy sprig of mistletoe hanging from the rafter.

“You had no idea did you,” you say with a grin, chin resting on his sternum.

“Who would? Who could even see that and in the dark I–” his words cut off as you gasp from the short sharp smack to your ass.

“Copia! Not in front of our child!” you chastise, reaching into the bag and pulling out the accursed doll.

“Ugh, I had forgotten about him,” Copia grouses as you take it and peck him on the cheek with it.

“What should we name him?” you muse, adjusting the doll’s pellegrina.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something suitably horrific,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead which you lean into eagerly. “Until then…shall I, eh, walk you back to your rooms?”

“Please,” and with one last long, lingering kiss with the odd cardinal doll squished between the two of you, you pick up your bag and continue the long walk back to your cozy bed with the Satanic cardinal you hoped would soon be in it.