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urhoneycombwitch · 14 days

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hands of love

foreword: omg been so long since I wrote for greenwitch!reader she’s baaaack. thx for reading if u do <3

cw: greenwitch!reader, R dresses very femme, referred to as ‘girlfriend’ once

wc: 1.5k

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It’s the first sunny spring day in Hawkins, so when Eddie’s cursory call goes straight to your answering machine, he’s not worried. Wherever there’s sun, you’re sure to be found- dozing on his front porch like a cat in the sun, making daisy chains with rings sparkling on your pretty fingers, anywhere but indoors.

He hums along mindlessly to the radio on his way over, plucking at the neck of his cut-off tank for airflow. Metalhead fashion is a killer during warm months; he’s already regretting the choice of black ripped jeans over more weather-appropriate shorts.

Your dad’s house is just off Cornwallis, nestled in a forested area, gravel service road for a driveway that’s easy to miss. Eddie swings his van with a practiced wheel-flex, tires crunching down the lane when something catches his eye and he hits the brakes, hard.

Just off the gravel, sittin’ pretty in the dirt, is you- deep green tank top hugging your chest, bare feet poking out of a long patchwork skirt, gold and silver jewelry dripping from your ears, sliding around your neck and wrists, glinting in the sun.

You’re a fucking vision. Eddie swears, softly, then throws the gear shift to park and pockets his keys.

At the sound of the van door closing, you look up from your spot sat on the ground, the little crinkle of focus between your brows smoothing out into a devastatingly radiant smile- for Eddie. All for him.

”Hey! Was just thinkin’ about you!”

Eddie’s careful not to disturb the gardening tools spread out in haphazard array when he walks over, bending to his haunches for a kiss.

You taste like fragrant oil and sunshine. He gives you another for good measure, then pulls back, bracketing your face between his palms- “You were thinkin’ about little ol’ me?”

“Always.” An honest grin for an honest answer. “I was making you a present and then wishing you’d show up, so it’s kind of like I manifested you. With my mind.”

“Freaky,” he replies, indulgent, giving you a forehead kiss then dropping to sit at your side. “Good thing I have a witch for a girlfriend, hm?”

“Uh-huh. Good thing.”

He’s already lost your attention to the trowel you’re plunging in the dirt, churning up the earth, loamy smell filling the air. Used to chasing after your trains of thought, Eddie asks, “Whatcha doing?

“In a minute.” The reply is kind but distracted, a sort of coded rhythm that Eddie’s good at breaking- I want to tell you but if I try to find the words, my focus will slip.

Your focus is a precious thing- especially when it comes to your craft. Unintentionally, you’ve taught Eddie more about the virtues of shutting up and taking the world in these past few months than he’s ever cared to learn before.

After reaching past him for an open mason jar, you carefully shovel in about an inch of dirt, hold it up to the light for inspection, then repeat the same motion for the other nearby jar.

Eddie waits patiently, leaning back into his hands, watching you work. It’s soothing, seeing you interact with the nature that runs through your veins; having been on the receiving end of many of your gifts, he wonders if it’s a spell jar. Or a planter. Or-

“Terrarium.” As if responding to Eddie’s internal questions, your full attention envelops him, suffocatingly, wonderfully close as you lean in. “Was gonna make it for you as a surprise, but now that you’re here… wanna make it with me?”

Eddie’s still reeling from the steadiness of your eyes on his, the soft slip of bare arm pressing against his own. With a slow, dazed head shake- “Hold on. Give me a second.”

Your turn to be patient, jar of soil held at the space where your bodies are joined, paused, lashes sweeping with each curious blink.

Eddie blows out a breath, only half-joking as he says, “Goddamn. Really unfair. Thought you promised not to get prettier?”

Compliments only land with you half the time, so when a bashful smile pulls at the edges of your pretty mouth Eddie mentally fist pumps.

“I made no such promise.” The jar is thrust into his waiting hand, and you turn to pick up your own. “This one can be for your windowsill, maybe in the kitchen? It’s gotta have some light, but not too much. If Wayne likes it, maybe you can share-”

“Not sharing shit with that man,” Eddie says, grand in his petulance. “Wayne can get his own jar of dirt.”

Your squint straightens him out. Eddie folds easy for you, always has.

“Gotta find some moss,” you say, eyes still unerringly on Eddie’s, “That’s the substrate layer. And then little plants, maybe some grass, whatever we can forage that’s small enough to fit. Oh, and isopods, if we can find ‘em.”

“Iso-what?” Eddie asked, alarmed, but you’re already standing, moving past the edge of the forest in search of terrarium treasures while he scrambles to catch up.

There’s an easy, graceful lilt to your movements when you’re outdoors, as if you’re meant to be there- moss reveals itself to you faster than Eddie would’ve thought possible. One overturned rock later and your gleeful exclamation rings bright through the woods.

“Sheet moss!”

“Oh, sheet,” he jokes, lamely, but you laugh anyways.

A circular patch of moss gets pushed into the jars. Eddie’s fingers feel bulky and clumsy in comparison to your dexterous ones, but the praise you give him once the layer is settled makes it worth it.

He happily trails after you in search of more small greenery, listening to your lengthy explanations of each new addition, huffing in amazement when you come up with the scientific name for crabgrass.

“Christ, sweetheart.” He whistles low as soon as you’re done, reaching over to brush some sticky pine needles off your hip. “So fuckin’ smart. Would’ve killed to have you as my teacher back in the day, might’ve actually graduated on time.”

“I don’t think Hawkins High has a botany program.” Your reply comes distracted, but this time it’s because Eddie’s hand has found a home on the strip of skin between your skirt and top.

He rubs a thumb into your bare hip, moss jar hanging loose from his other hand as he pulls you towards him. “Yeah. Probably for the best. I think they frown on students who sleep with teachers. Couldn’t keep my hands off’a you.”

Chin tilted to meet him halfway, you give him a real good kiss, lips soft and smooth over his, parted slightly until the thrill of your wet tongue presses into his eager one.

“Gotta show you the best part.” When you pull back, sounding a little out of breath, you slip your hand into Eddie’s and lead the way to your original spot.

Two flat metal disks are procured from your pile of things; you hold one out for Eddie in your palm, explaining as he takes it- “Made this one special for you. It goes on top, like this-” you rotate the other disk until it slides into place over your jar. “Like a lid. But I had to make my own from scrap pieces ‘cuz the original mason lids didn’t take the markings.”

Eddie flips the homemade lid over in his hands to find a five-pointed star hugged by a circle, raised and tamped by hand into the metal. He blinks up at you, in awe. “You did this?”

“Yeah, it’s-” you must misread his wonder because the words spill out like you’re nervous, fiddling with the sides of your jar like you don’t want to see his expression anymore. “It’s a pentacle. Like from your Judas Priest poster? But this one’s not upside-down like his, so I meant it more for protection and prosperity. Y’know. To help keep your little world safe. And make it grow.”

Gently, a little unsure, you clink your jar against his in the sweetest cheers he’s ever seen.

Eddie swears again, achingly in love, then spins the lid tight over his new terrarium and grins at you. “I’m gonna marry you one day.”

There’s no room for a buffer as a smile nearly splits your face in two, giggling, delighted with his affection. “Over a jar of dirt? Man, can’t wait to see what you promise me when I give you an even better gift.”

“I’ve got some ideas.” His voice pitches low, taking the jar from your hand to join his on the ground so he can wrap you up in his arms, properly. “Gonna have to come over a lot more and make sure I’m keeping it alive. Think of all those tiny ocelots depending on you.”

“Isopods,” you correct in a whisper, letting Eddie nuzzle into the crown of your hair, warm and smelling faintly of your bergamot shampoo. “And it only needs to be watered like, once a month, but I’ll come over way more than that.”

“You better.” Eddie puts on his best threatening tone. “I get crazier every hour we’re apart. Swear.”

He feels the curl of your smile against his sternum, and you let him hold you and sway in the afternoon sun.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x greenwitch!reader #greenwitch!reader #greenwitch #eddie munson x you

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curioushabitforarivergod · 1 month

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dark(ish) academia books that I don't see recommended enough

I read a lot, both fiction and non-fiction, and a lot of the stuff I've read over the past 2-3 years has had underlying academic tones. I've tried to include books I've at least enjoyed, although there are a few 3 star ratings. All of these books are ones I haven't really seen mentioned in compiled dark academia lists (mainly because some of them fall outside the general scope and are more ✨vibes✨). Feel free to add more less well-known books. I've included my own blurbs of the books but I've got shit memory and some I read like 2 years ago so yeah

Fiction

"Let us read, and let us dance; these two amusements will never do any harm to the world." Voltaire

To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

Takes place over 10 years and explores family and the destruction left behind after WWI. It discusses the feminine vs. masculine in art and while it can be a little slow to read (took me close to 3 weeks!) theres some really beautiful passages and also some funny ones as well — the characters spend several chapters at a dinner party convinced everyone hates them and constantly hating other people too.

The Dark is Rising (series) by Susan Cooper

Okay, yes this is a kids book series from the 70s/80s but it explores English, Cornish and Welsh mythology and has really good characters and world-building. Even though chronologically the series goes: Over Sea, Under Stone; The Dark is Rising; Greenwitch; The Grey King; Silver on the Tree, it's best to read The Dark is Rising first and return back to Over Sea, Under Stone. Anyway, I love this series and I read The Dark is Rising every Christmas because it corresponds pretty much with the days and is easy to place and that's kind of what makes it feel very cozy and academic. Also, theres some brief moments of time travel to the past.

The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova

This is a beautiful written masterpiece set across the 20th century featuring plenty of train rides across Europe and vampires. It explores some of the history of Walachia and Dracula, as well as the Ottoman Empire and European politics of the time. It's a hefty read but I loved it because it combines history, dark academia, fantasy and vampires.

Macbeth by William Shakespeare

My favourite of Shakespeare that I've seen so far and honestly murder is so dark academia I don't need to talk any further. Strangely, I don't see this recommended enough.

Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell

This was quite popular a year or two ago, and honestly for good reason. I think it's only really academic because it's linked to Shakespeare and explores the less well-known lives of Shakespeare's family, but it's very good and I thought I'd include it anyway.

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke

This one feels really light academia to me, but I think it's mainly because of setting. It's set in this fantastical old and crumbling mansion that goes on forever. It's filled with statues and it floods and only two people live in the world. The story is told entirely through diary entries, but it's so well-written because it defamiliarises the reader entirely. It was a light and easy read for me, which is probably why I'm associating it with light academia rather than dark academia.

The Book of Goose by Yiyun Li

This book kinda mixes chaotic academia and cottagecore academia and is a reflection of girlhood and youth spent in the French countryside in the 50s. There's a toxic relationship between two friends who write a book together before one of them attends prestigious girls' school in England. Also the opening lines are amazing: "You cannot cut an apple with an apple. You cannot cut an orange with an orange. You can, if you have a knife, cut an apple or an orange. Or slice open the underbelly of a fish. Or, if your hands are steady enough and the blade is sharp enough, sever an umbilical cord."

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

Another classic! I love Waugh, and Brideshead revisited is amazing and my favourite of what I've read of his. The book is quite homoerotic — explicitly so at times, which is fascinating for something published in 1945 — and deals with romanticisation. It nestles quite snugly between Picture of Dorian Grey and Secret History in terms of a dark academic literary canon.

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen

This is more gothic than dark academia, but it's also a satire of the gothic genre so I feel like it counts. It's definetly not as well known as some of Austen's other works and feels much more raw, particularly because its her first work (although not published until after her death). It's not my favourite Austen, but I love it all the same, especially because of its commentary on warning the romanticisation of other peoples lives and the gothic/dark academia. Although dark academia wasn't a thing in Austen's day!

Possession by A. S. Byatt

I love the main story but because its so metafictive and explores the relationship between two made-up poets (one of whom is bi and cheats on her gf with the second) from the perspective of modern academics, it can get quite hard to read sometimes. It's also really long, but definitely worth reading.

Non-Fiction

I feel like non-fiction is pretty over-looked when it comes to the academia aesthetic which really says something, given that its… kinda the whole point of academia?? Anyway, I read a lot of history books, but I only put down the ones which I found interesting or easy to read, so they're more popular histories than academic histories. Also; essays.

The Year 1000: What Life Was Like At the Turn of the First Millennium by Robert Lacey

This explores early medieval life in England based on the Julius Work Calendar, an Anglo-Saxon manuscript believed to date to 1020BCE. It's honestly a really light and interesting read and it talks about what everyday life was like, which I think is important in history. It's in a narrative style so it's quite easy to read even if you don't consume history often.

Oh, to Be a Painter! by Virginia Woolf

This is actually a short, published collection of Virginia Woolf essays on art. I read the essays all in one sitting because they're quite short, but if you're into art and art academia, I'd highly recommend. There's also an essay on the cinema which provides some interesting insights into todays world particularly as Woolf was writing at the time when cinema was only just becoming widespread and an industry in its own right.

A Modest Proposal by Jonathan Swift

This is a satirical essay on attitudes towards the poor and it suggests that poor people might sell their children as food for the rich, highlighting the callousness of the upper classes. It's available free online and very much relevant today, despite being written close to 300 years ago.

The Time Traveller's Guide to Elizabethan England by Ian Mortimer

Very useful if you ever find yourself stuck in the Elizabethan period! It's read as a sort of travel guide but includes plenty on history as well, providing a picture of what England looked like in the late-Tudor period. Also people will think you're a time-traveller if you carry it around, which adds to your intrigue and mystery.

A Memoir of Jane Austen by James Edward Austen-Leigh

If you like Jane Austen and haven't read this memoir, you should. It's written by her nephew, so it's quite biased and it's not amazing in any way, but it provides a lot of context to her life and is a good light-read or coffee table book. Also my copy was pale pink so win.

Thats it folks. Feel free to include your own less well-known book recs that follow dark/light/chaotic, etc. aesthetics! I'd love to compile a huge list and read more outside my comfort zone.

#dark academia #light academia #chaotic academia #art academia #cottagecore academia #books and reading #book reccomendation #book reccs #books

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semper-legens · 4 months

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198. The Dark is Rising, by Susan Cooper

Owned?: Yes Page count: 180 My summary: Will Stanton, seventh son of a seventh son, has a secret he doesn’t know. But on his eleventh birthday, he awakens as an Old One, a servant of the Light. Throughout the land, the Dark is rising, and Will has been given a quest. Find the six Signs and unite them, or give in forever to the darkness… My rating: 4/5 My commentary:

And I'm back! Sorry about the extended hiatus there - January is traditionally a time for me where I struggle to get my head back in gear after the holidays, and my motivation to do…well…anything has been at a bit of a low. Regardless, however, I'm here now! And I'm ready to cover the last three books I read in 2023 - starting with The Dark is Rising. Longtime readers of this blog will know that rereading the Dark is Rising sequence around Christmas time is something of a tradition here, and I was determined to keep it up last year. Since this blog is for chronicling my thoughts on each readthrough, I won't be talking about every aspect of the book, just touching on what I thought and noticed this time around. Got it? Good. In we go!

One of the things I'm thinking about on this readthrough is mystery. See, there's a lot of magic and Old Ones and ancient laws going on in this text, but not much in the way of straight explanation about what any of it is. Oh, don't get me wrong, there's enough exposition to serve for the purposes of the present narrative, but a lot of what the Old Ones are and how they work is left for the reader to infer. How many Old Ones are there, and what are they doing while the events of the plot bear out for Will? What does it mean that Will is the youngest of the Old Ones? Who is the Lady? So much is left unsaid, even when Will is being given all the answers from the Book of Gramerye. It's a neat little device, and I think it works well here.

The other thing is the use of mood and atmosphere. I always think of the first four Dark is Rising books as being themed after different time periods - respectively, summer, winter, spring, and autumn. The wintery landscape does such a good job of setting that bleak, oppressive atmosphere, and I really like the contrast of the blanketing white snow being a conduit for the Dark - it's an interesting little piece of colour symbolism, showing that white isn't necessarily good, which I want to see more of in media. You really feel this book, is what I'm saying. From the incredibly evocative scene where Will travels in time to Good King Wenceslas to the biting cold of the thaw in the climax, the book sets up a perfect winter mood and uses it to its full advantage.

Next, power from the Greenwitch, lost beneath the sea.

#The Dark Is Rising #Susan Cooper #bookblr #book blog #book blogger #4

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poisonerspath · 2 years

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@sussex_pellar #icelandicplantmagic just arrived!!! I screamed and made lots of other noises when I opened this book! I would say this is the most comprehensive, well-researched, and well presented compendium on Icelandic and Northern Plant Magic. Poisons, runestaves, recipes for ritual and an extensive herbarium. Albert has been compiling this tome through first hand experience and field work and has saved the reader essentially a life time of research. Top notch 💚 I’ll be sharing more about this and doing a more in depth post on Patreon but do yourself a favor and order this book. It is LOADED with magical lore! And I’m not just saying that because I think Albert is the bees knees. This is a bad ass book! - - #plantlore #northerntradition #magicalherbalism #poisonpath #occultherbalism #greenwitch #landvættir #occultherbalism https://www.instagram.com/p/CjdZWyML6uY/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#icelandicplantmagic #plantlore #northerntradition #magicalherbalism #poisonpath #occultherbalism #greenwitch #landvættir

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endless-array-of-tom · 2 years

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is anyone interested in a loki x greenwitch! reader oneshot? where loki stumbles upon a witch’s garden after plans goes sideways perhaps??

i haven’t worked out fully the plot but it’s a thought that’s been stuck in my mind for a few days—

#loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki

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yea-baiyi · 1 year

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I posted 1,040 times in 2022

223 posts created (21%)

817 posts reblogged (79%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@catboycrimsonrain

@greenwitching

@yea-baiyi

@agendratum

@sisyphusinabyss

I tagged 947 of my posts in 2022

Only 9% of my posts had no tags

#tgcf - 261 posts

#cql - 119 posts

#hualian - 111 posts

#hua cheng - 104 posts

#art stuff - 99 posts

#xie lian - 83 posts

#meta stuff - 81 posts

#funnies - 59 posts

#tgcf meta - 58 posts

#faves - 55 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#the story of tgcf then is showing xie lian the results of his goodness. hua cheng is the living proof that xie lian’s kindness did something

My Top Posts in 2022:

thinking about the rationale behind anti-revenge plots. there’s a universal message about grief in there— the silent understanding that the pain is huge, it is endless and it is hungry, because the hole left in your heart will never be full again. it wants to rage and rage and destroy the thing that caused this pain. it’s painfully human.

the counterpoint is this: revenge will not bring an end to the grief. you will destroy the thing that caused you pain, only to be left with pain still —and yourself, now someone who is capable of destruction. and so you shouldn’t give in. you shouldn’t let yourself be controlled by your grief, only to bring more grief upon yourself. it’s not worth it.

but the best revenge stories take all of the above and answer: the revenge should be done anyway.

it may not be worth the emotional price for the person who suffered the most to carry it out themselves, but great evil should not go unpunished. the grieving person might not be the right person to pull the trigger, but they’ll damn well sleep better knowing that the person responsible is lying cold in the ground. (and an enormous, wondrous act that someone can do for another is to say, “i see you are hurting, i can’t erase your grief, but the least that i can do is to strike down the person who did it. the least i can do is this, because i hate to see you in pain.” because what is love if not feeling their pain as if it’s your own?)

479 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

I’m fine I’m just crying over how Xie Lian makes Hua Cheng laugh

See the full post

631 notes - Posted February 18, 2022

ok but mdzs really is SUCH a novel. it’s a tome of a book, the title is essentially “The First Necromancer”. the prologue is ominous — people celebrating and gossiping in turn about the mysterious death of the world’s greatest villain. and then you are immediately thrown into the POV of this exhausted post-depressed bisexual in the body of a gay twink. who proceeds to poorly fake insanity, control a bunch of corpses, argue with teenagers, and then loudly act as gay and cringe as humanly possible to avoid his problems. and then he gets kidnapped by THEE most respected person in the entire community. for gay reasons. as a BL reader you know what to expect going in but just contextually mdzs is truly SUCH a novel

1,735 notes - Posted March 9, 2022

important to note is that the reason hua cheng enjoying xie lian's awful food and not telling him it's bad works is because he's playing along with xie lian's act. xie lian's KNOWS his food is shitty, he is doing it on purpose, because all of it – the chaotic cooking, the inventive names, the godawful taste – reminds him of his mother and he does not want to talk about it, so he just plays carefully oblivious whenever people try to discourage him from cooking and keeps doing it. lying to your partner if their cooking is awful is bad practice, but hua cheng praising xie lian's cooking (not excessively but just enough to be encouraging) is perfect for them, because it lets xie lian just enjoy this moment of feeling close to his mother without needing to be defensive about it. once AGAIN an example of how tgcf takes unhealthy codependent romance tropes and flips them on it's head to make it the most profound shit ever. height of romance. what in the fuck

2,637 notes - Posted June 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

something something infinite glory vs fallen from grace, how tgcf’s whole point is its range. how the whole point is to show extreme contrasts: xie lian floating through the sky as a hero vs lying drunk and filthy at the bottom of a grave pit. shi qingxuan the vibrant privileged god vs the disfigured beggar. pei ming the great warrior vs the easily humiliated coward. hua cheng the too-brave solider boy vs the fearsome ghost king vs the playful and sometimes vicious san lang. it’s still just you.

it’s you when you’re glorious and worshipped and loved and beautiful, it’s you when you’re vulnerable and pathetic and desperate and ugly. it’s you when you are dressed up in finery, it’s you when you are filthy and covered in mud. its you when you’re kind and benevolent, it’s you when you’re petty and angry. it’s you when you are dying for a noble cause, it’s you when you wield a sword for twisted vengeance. it’s all you, in all that it is possible for a human to be. and all that is worth loving. because it is you.

2,726 notes - Posted March 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #oo nice

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richincolor · 2 years

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New Releases

I read a funny tweet about a reader who had had too much to drink and was crying about all the books she wanted to read but didn't have enough time. I felt that. And with the list of new releases this week I see some books I want to add to my list but I've already blown through my summer budget - oops. So, what books look budget breaking to you?

Beating Heart Baby by Lio Min Flatiron Books

When artistic and sensitive Santi arrives at his new high school, everyone in the wildly talented marching band welcomes him with open arms. Everyone except for the prickly, proud musical prodigy Suwa, who doesn’t think Santi has what it takes to be in the band.

But Santi and Suwa share painful pasts, and when they open up to each other, a tentative friendship begins. And soon, that friendship turns into something more. . . .

Will their fresh start rip at the seams as Suwa seeks out a solo spotlight, and both boys come to terms with what it’ll take, and what they’ll have to let go, to realize their dreams?

Love Times Infinity by Lane Clarke Little Brown/Poppy

High school junior Michie is struggling to define who she is for her scholarship essays, her big shot at making it into Brown as a first-generation college student. The prompts would be hard for anyone, but Michie’s been estranged from her mother since she was seven and her concept of family has long felt murky.

Enter new kid and basketball superstar Derek de la Rosa. He is very cute, very talented, and very much has his eye on Michie, no matter how invisible she believes herself to be.

When Michie’s mother unexpectedly reaches out to make amends, and with her scholarship deadlines looming, Michie must choose whether to reopen old wounds or close the door on her past. And as she spends more time with Derek, she’ll have to decide how much of her heart she is willing to share. Because while Michie may not know who she is, she’s starting to realize who she wants to become, if only she can take a chance on Derek, on herself, and on her future.

The Witchery by S. Isabelle Scholastic

THE HAUNTING SEASON IS HERE AND THE WOLVES ARE AWAKE.

Haelsford, Florida is a Hellmouth. Or at least, that’s what Logan, a baby witch struggling to control her powers, thinks as she arrives to the witchtown to begin the new school year at Mesmortes Coven Academy. She is immediately taken under the wing of the infamous Red Three. Iris is a deathwitch who wants nothing more than to break the town’s curse; Jailah is one of the most powerful witches at the academy but her thirst for power may lead her down a dark path; and Thalia, the talented greenwitch, is on the run from her religious family and a past that still haunts her.

Fear and prejudice still fuel the uneasy truce between humans and witches who are forced to work together when the Haunting Season begins and Wolves rise from the swamp to feed. With this approaching, two Hammersmitt boys prepare to make their first sacrifices to the witches in exchange for protection. But as they become involved with the Mesmortes witches’ plan to end the Wolves’ reign of terror once and for all, old dangers lie in wait.

The cost to break the curse may be greater than any witch or human could ever know.

The Man or the Monster (The Marghazar Trials #2) by Aamna Qureshi CamCat Books

She made her decision. Now she has to live with it.

Durkhanai Miangul sealed her lover’s fate when she sent him through a door where either a lady or a lion awaited him. But her decision was only the beginning of her troubles. Durkhanai worries that she might not be the queen her people need or deserve when conflict threatens her kingdom.

Her presumed-dead father comes back with a vengeance and wishes she join him in his cause. But her family’s denial of his revenge forces Durkhanai to take matters into her own hands and she must decide whether to follow the traditions of her forefathers or forge a new path on her own.

Twice as Perfect by Louisa Onomé Feiwel & Friends

The only things worth doing are those that will lead to success.

For seventeen-year-old Adanna Nkwachi, life is all about duty: to school and the debate team, to her Nigerian parents, and even to her cousin Genny as Ada helps prepare Genny’s wedding to Afrobeats superstar Skeleboy (“Skeleboy me, Skeleboy this money, everything na Skeleboy…that Skeleboy!”). Because ever since her older brother, Sam, had a fight with their parents a few years ago and disappeared, somebody has to fill the void he left behind. Ada may never know what caused Sam to leave home, but the one thing she’s certain of is that it’s on her to make sure her parents’ sacrifices aren’t in vain.

One day, chance brings the siblings back together. Although she fears how their parents will react if they find out she and Sam are back in touch, Ada’s determined to get answers about the night Sam left—Sam, who was supposed to be an engineer but is now, what, a poet? The more she learns about Sam’s poetry, the more Ada begins to wonder if maybe her own happiness is just as important as doing what’s expected of her. Amid parental pressure, anxiety over the debate competition, a complicated love life, and the Nigerian wedding-to-end-all-weddings, can Ada learn, just this once, to put herself first?

Violet Made of Thorns by Gina Chen Delacorte

Violet is a prophet and a liar, influencing the royal court with her cleverly phrased—and not always true—divinations. Honesty is for suckers, like the oh-so-not charming Prince Cyrus, who plans to strip Violet of her official role once he’s crowned at the end of the summer—unless Violet does something about it.

But when the king asks her to falsely prophesy Cyrus’s love story for an upcoming ball, Violet awakens a dreaded curse, one that will end in either damnation or salvation for the kingdom—all depending on the prince’s choice of future bride. Violet faces her own choice: Seize an opportunity to gain control of her own destiny, no matter the cost, or give in to the ill-fated attraction that’s growing between her and Cyrus.

Violet’s wits may protect her in the cutthroat court, but they can’t change her fate. And as the boundary between hatred and love grows ever thinner with the prince, Violet must untangle a wicked web of deceit in order to save herself and the kingdom—or doom them all.

Beasts of Ruin (Beasts of Prey #2) by Ayana Gray G.P. Putnam’s Sons Books for Young Readers

Koffi has saved her city and the boy she loves, but at a terrible price. Now a servant to the cunning god of death, she must use her newfound power to further his continental conquest, or risk the safety of her home and loved ones. As she reluctantly learns to survive amidst unexpected friends and foes, she will also have to choose between the life—and love—she once had, or the one she could have, if she truly embraces her dangerous gifts.

Cast out from the only home he’s ever known, Ekon is forced to strike new and unconventional alliances to find and rescue Koffi before it’s too late. But as he gets closer to the realm of death each day, so too does he draw nearer to a terrible truth—one that could cost everything.

Koffi and Ekon—separated by land, sea, and gods—will have to risk everything to reunite again. But the longer they’re kept apart, the more each of their loyalties are tested. Soon, both may have to reckon with changing hearts—and maybe, changing destinies.

#new releases #weneeddiversebooks

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susannagates13 · 2 years

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I’m one of the new tarot readers @midwestwitcheryandhealing in Stillwater, MN. Sign up for my newsletter (link in bio) for upcoming info on how to book with me there for a live reading or purchase an email reading. Coming soon: Video readings. . . . #tarot #tarotcards #tarotreading #tarotreadersofinstagram #tarotreader #tarotcommunity #tarotonline #witchesofinstagram #divination #witchesofinstagram #witchy #pagansofinstagram #witchythings #wiccan #witch #magic #witchywoman #witchyvibes #greenwitch #hearthwitch #shadowwitch #seasonofthewitch #witchbitch #witchcommunity #witchinghour #witchtips #witchesofig #kitchenwitch #tradwitch https://www.instagram.com/p/CgJ_toRukBw/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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xhaljordans · 4 years

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Anon requested: Hal and his s/o are getting it on , until he forgets that he’s wearing boxers with her superhero logo on them and she sees them. Can I please request this as a short scenario

Greenwitch time!!!

You couldn’t help it. You started laughing once you saw that Hal was wears boxers (you’d always took him for a briefs guy). Boxers with your symbol on them.

Hal, of course, took it in stride. He struck poses, laughing the whole time as each pose got more ridiculous than the last.

#hal jordan x reader #hal jordan imagine #hal jordan headcanons #Hal Jordan #green lantern #green lantern headcanons #green lantern imagine #green lantern x reader #Greenwitch

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nightfurywitch · 4 years

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Quarantine

So what do I do in Quarantine? Do a massive reading on my newest relationship to see where it’s going and what work I need to do.... Guys I need a lot of work or I’m going to fuck this up. 😔

#green witch #divination #witch #tarot community #witchblr #greenwitch #tarot #tarot deck #tarotreading #fortune teller #tarot reader #relationship #relationship spreads #witchcraft community #witchcraft #tarot spreads #gah

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urhoneycombwitch · 5 months

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witch of ages, cleft for me [part I]

🍯 honey flavour: Christmas-themed fluff and comfort

🐝 the bees: Eddie x greenwitch!reader, ft. The Gang (special appearance by Max Mayfield herself)

wc: 3.8k

Content warnings: weed mention, cussing, reader is given a nickname (Poppy), fem verbiage/motifs used for reader, r is a witch with a troubled home life, fluff, pov Eddie for part I.

foreword: new series alerrrrrt. self-inserty? MAYHAPS. I’ve endeavored to keep reader neutral enough for general x reader purposes while still givin’ her some flavour. please lmk if I need to update the cw to make things more clear. smut in later chapters planned so MDNI. happy readin’!

Christmas has never been Eddie’s favorite holiday.

When he was a kid, and his mom was still around, sure- he’d do the whole peppermint sticks in cocoa, snowman-making schtick, but that was ‘cuz his mom was his favorite person and, well, shit, he didn’t have any Scrooge-like tendencies back then. He was just a kid.

The lack of holiday cheer came later, settled in around teenage-dom, never quite left. Eddie can count on one hand the number of memorable Christmases he’s had, and this one sure won’t be added to the list.

Wayne had made a valiant effort that morning to distribute the cheer- holiday radio buzzing tinny over the stove while he flipped pancakes for the two of them. Didn’t even grouse at Eddie for taking a premature smoke break. Over breakfast, he’d slid a brown paper-wrapped parcel across the table and said, “Merry Christmas.”

“Wayne,” Eddie teased, slamming a hand in the middle of his chest, syrupy palm sticking to the old band t-shirt he was wearing- “I thought we said no gifts. You’re going soft on me, old man.”

“Old man my ass,” Wayne had muttered, but Eddie was already tearing into the paper.

It was a killer gift. Special edition Tolkein, bound in red leather, gold lettering and vines curling around the sides.

Eddie was stunned into silence as he turned the book over in his hands. Wayned tapped the edge of the chipped mug he held, thoughtfully.

“You survived this year, boy. That’s something to celebrate.”

Clearing his throat that’d gone stuffy with emotion, Eddie flipped through the pages reverently. “Well, shit. I keep up my living streak and you get me a sword replica next year, that what you’re tellin’ me?”

Wayne had chuckled, then risen from the table to ruffle his nephew’s hair. “Don’t push your luck, kid.”

He’d offered to take Eddie along on his Christmas Day Drive (as he’d called it, which was actually just code for Wayne and his fishing buddies getting sloshed on schnapps in some dingy Hawkins living room), but Eddie had declined (assuring Wayne that no, actually, he wasn’t gonna be moping around the house- in fact, Steve’s throwing a party and he’s gonna go).

Which they both knew was code for Eddie staying home and getting high. Wayne took his time getting out the door, shuffling around the kitchen, instructing Eddie to eat something in his absence, finally taking off in that rickety excuse for a pickup just before noon.

Which suited Eddie fine. Really. He was sprawled out on the couch now, arms lax above his head, dozing catlike, thinking about lighting up one of those joints rolling around under his bed. Trying not to think about you.

And sure, yeah, maybe he stayed home ‘cuz he was hoping you’ll call. The holidays are making him sentimental, not pathetic.

‘Kay, maybe a little pathetic.

You’d been over at the trailer last night, curled into his side on the couch while Wayne snoozed in the corner chair, It’s A Wonderful Life playing for no one in particular, when you’d told him quietly that you weren’t gonna be around the next day.

“You mean for Christmas?” He’d asked, rubbing a smooth path up and down your arm. “How come?”

Your fingers plucked a steady rhythm at one of his shirt buttons, head resting on his chest, so all he saw was the crown of your head while you explained. “I mean, I’d rather be here. With you and Wayne. It’s just… my dad asked me to hang out. And he never does, yanno? Least I can do is give my old man a few hours to try and make it up to me.”

Eddie was quiet for a bit. Even though you knew about his turbulent familial life (god knows he’d told you more about it than anyone else in his life- your fault for being such a goddamn good listener), he didn’t think a lecture about how disappointing fathers could be was quite appropriate.

So he’d said “Sure, sweetheart, if that’s what you want,” and he’d kissed the top of your head, breathing in that earthy blend of cardamom and sweet mint that you’d tapped into your skin that morning, and you’d thanked him for understanding and gave him a kiss so soft he could’ve cried.

You looked like you were going to cry, yourself, saying goodbye later that night in the doorway, backlit dreamily with soft streetlamps, arms wrapped tight around your frame to keep out the cold.

He’d kissed you goodbye once, twice, got a little goofy with it and pressed quick manic kisses across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your eyelids that were scrunched with amusement, as if he was trying to memorize your face with his lips.

“Just one day apart. We can do that, right?” He’d said, holding you at arm’s length, trying to assure himself just as much as you.

Your eyes were misty underneath the rim of your knitted hat, but you’d nodded, hiding the tremble in your bottom lip with a brave tilt to your chin. “Just one day apart.” And with a final kiss, you set off down the snow-covered path, waving a red-mittened hand over your shoulder before getting into your car.

So you weren’t gonna call today, Eddie knew that. He’d have you tomorrow, curled in his lap with that strange herbal tea that you were always trying to get him into, and you’d tell him all about your holiday with your dad that you lived with but barely knew.

Just one day apart. He could deal with that, right?

Eddie groans, scrubbing his hands over his face and turning belly-down into the couch.

The thing is, he’s not the overbearing type. At least, he tries not to be. But when you meet the girl of your dreams under circumstances such as the end of the world, you tend to be a little more on the anxious side of things.

Eddie can’t actually remember the last time you’ve spent more than a few hours at a time apart in the last four months; at first it was you playing nurse, tending to Eddie for weeks after the demobats had fucked him up, rotating from couch to makeshift floor-bed that was probably hell on your back. Not that you’d complained.

Those days were a narcotic-fueled haze in Eddie’s memories; the first week he really only surfaced when he smelled the bergamot wafting from your neck each time you leaned over to change his dressings, or when he heard the gentle tinkling of those delicate flower chain earrings and stacks of thin silver bracelets you wore.

And then your time spent by his side just sort of naturally… evolved, along with your feelings for each other. He’d been crushing since high school on the starry-eyed, quiet little thing that sat behind him in Kaminsky’s class. The fact that you were rumored to be a witch really only encouraged his flirting by the day.

You weren’t so easily enamored with him- not playing hard to get, necessarily, but you never seemed to have time for romance- what with your whole saving the world thing. Information that Eddie was now privy to, after all that Upside Down shit.

Eddie would have happily taken his crush to the grave (nearly did, he has Dustin to thank for dragging his bony ass topside) if it meant keeping things between you both smooth. Because it was smooth, easy, as natural as breathing, being around you. The fact that you made the first move as soon as he was healed up (on this very couch, no less) was a dream come true. You’d basically attacked his mouth, a story he loves to drag up at the most torturous times just to see you light up with embarrassment before he kisses it better.

So now you wear one of his guitar picks on a chain around your neck and he spends his spare change on moody 70s cassettes to stock in his van for the midnight drives he loves to take you on; neither of you want to put a boyfriend/girlfriend label on each other ‘cuz it feels weirdly trite, for the amount of intimacy you’ve got going on.

Belonging, though, that’s a phrase you’ve both used before, to each other. You’re mine. You belong to me. Said sweetly and chastely during backyard BBQ’s at the Harrington house, with possessive fierceness between open-mouthed kisses, whispered cozily under the cover of thin sheets and sprawling nights.

He was your boy, for sure. You were his girl. And fuck’s sake was this day without you dragging its goddamn heels.

Eddie pounds a closed fist into the couch cushion, petulantly, then shoves himself up and off, the metal chains at his hip clinking with the sudden movement. He roots around in his bedside table drawer, then the top of his bureau where you stash your clothes sometimes- clothes that probably still smell like you. If he’s gonna be pathetic, mind as well be really pathetic, right?

Eddie’s just pulling out one of your lacy tanktops with a victorious fist pump when there’s a knock at the front door. If it’s carolers interrupting this pity-party, he’s gonna lose his shit.

But it’s not carolers. It’s Max Mayfield, red braids poking out of a green knit hat that he knows for a fact you made her last winter. She’s holding a blue tin of Danish butter cookies, customary scowl on her freckled face.

“You gonna let me in or make me freeze to death? Don’t think I won’t call child services on you, Munson.”

She ducks under Eddie’s arm, and he lets the door shut behind her with a bang. “Look, Red, Merry Christmas and all that but I’m really not in the mood to-”

Max holds out the tin, bracketed by her fuzzy mittens. “These are for you. My mom’s making me take some ’round to all the neighbors.”

Eddie pops the lid and is mildly surprised to find not the customary butter cookies but a neat stack of gingerbread people, with gumdrops for buttons and chocolate chip eyes peeking out from the wax paper.

He lifts an eyebrow at the girl, who’s dripping melted snow into his carpet, and can’t help but tease. “These look like they took some effort, Red. You treat all your neighbors this nice?”

Max glowers again, crossing her arms best she can against the thick puff of her coat sleeves.

Eddie bites the head off one of the cookies and points the desiccated corpse in her direction. “You want something, huh.”

“No,” Max says, a little too quickly, then sighs, and cranes her neck down the hallway. “Not from you, anyways. Where’s Poppy?”

Eddie flinches a little at the nickname the kids all use for you (an homage to the red lipstick you used to wear, or maybe it was the detention you got for getting caught with a jar of the seeds on school property freshman year, the story changes each time he asks) and drops the partially-eaten cookie back in the box. “She’s not here today.”

“She’s here every day,” Max counters, still looking down the hallway hopefully.

“Trust me, I wish I was lying to you,” Eddie continues, snapping the tin closed and setting it on the kitchen counter. “She’s with her dad for Christmas.”

“Poppy is willingly spending time… with her dad… for Christmas?” Max repeats the information slowly, as if she thinks Eddie is not so bright.

He lets his silence and return scowl do the talking for him. Max stamps in place, knocking more snow onto the carpet, annoyance rolling into uncomfortability. “Uh. Okay. Well… I guess I’ll just… ride my bike to the party across town. In this blizzard,” she tacks on, pointedly.

There’s a beat of silence. Eddie drums his fingers against the countertop. It’s hardly a blizzard, and there’s less than an inch of snow on the ground, but he knows what you’d do, if you were here, which you usually are.

“Goddammit,” Eddie cusses, before snatching his keys off the hook behind Max’s head and stuffing his arms into his thermal flannel, muttering, “If she wasn’t actively making me a better person, you’d be a popsicle, Red.”

___

On the drive to Steve’s, Max pokes around in the dash and complains about the lack of Kate Bush before settling on a Fleetwood Mac tape and shoving it into the deck.

Stevie Nicks croons Rihannon over the speakers, and Eddie thinks maybe he’ll get a few minutes of peace and quiet but no such luck. He’s making a slow turn onto the main road when Max asks, “What’s this?”

Eddie fights the urge to snatch the crushed velvet jewelry box out of Max’s mittened grasp and stares resolutely at the road. “I’m trying not to spin out and kill us in a fiery wreck, kid, would ya put that back where you found it?”

She bumps the dash compartment closed with her knee. “Someone’s testy today. Is it for Poppy?”

“Yes,” Eddie grits out, white-knuckling the wheel. “Christ, Max, you’re like the annoying little sister I never asked for. Would you put it-”

There’s a quiet snick as Max ignores him and opens the box. “C’mon, don’t you want a lady’s opinion?”

“Lady, my ass,” Eddie mutters. It’s pretty quiet in the passenger seat area all of a sudden, and he forces his gaze to stay safely on the snowy road as he asks, “Well?”

“Cute,” Max muses. She lifts the delicate chain from the box, the charm at the end swinging like a pendulum with the movement of the van. “A little on the nose, though, don’tcha think?”

Eddie was afraid of that. But when he saw the tiny poppy in perfect cast silver at a jewelry store on his big city excursion last month, he couldn’t help it. His girl makes him all sorts of mushy.

“Put it back,” he tells Max again, the fight going out of his voice, and she complies, this time, reaching out to pat his shoulder after reassembling the box.

“Don’t worry. Girls go crazy for that cheesy shit. Especially if they’re in love,” she says, sagely, gloved fingers absently playing with the gold heart locket around her own neck.

“Uh huh,” Eddie says, with a pointed grin aimed sideways at the girl.

“Shut up.” Max flushes beet red, then reaches for the volume dial and cranks Stevie up to ten.

___

The Harrington house is a flurry of activity, apparently chosen as the main hub for the Gang and their various extensions. Mrs. Byers chirrups a hello as he passes the kitchen, Nancy waving a wooden spoon in greeting. There’s a cheer from the group of boys in various states of sprawl over a board game on the living room floor when Eddie clomps in, Max practically shoulder-checking him on her way to Lucas’s side.

If anything, this party will be a welcome distraction from the silence that is his trailer without you. Eddie figures he’ll hang around for a bit, help eat up some of Harrington’s fancy holiday food, and dip into his weed reserves (that lacy tanktop of yours on his mind) before the bell tolls six.

After giving a dorky salute to his Hellfire kiddos, Eddie drops into the last available couch cushion: next to Argyle (silk black hair adorned with a pair of reindeer antlers), who turns sleepily and gives him a weed-laced lazy smile.

“Heyyyy, brochacho. Where’s your girl? I still owe her some cold hard cash money for those morels,” Argyle says.

“She isn’t here.” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe this party won’t be a good distraction after all, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t wanna keep bringing you up anyways. “What the hell are morels?”

“Mushrooms!” Jonathan pipes up from the end of the couch. Judging by the red eyes, he’s just as gone as Argyle.

Eddie isn’t judging. Christmas is hell without the help of weed and pretty girls.

“Yeah, dude, mushrooms.” Argyle slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, talking over the raucous noise of the kids engaged in a tense game of Monopoly a few feet away. “She’s a wicked good forager. Better than my mushroom guy back in Cali by a loooong shot.”

“Morels are the ones that look like brains,” Jonathan says, focused on his attempt at a house made of paper money on the coffee table in front of him.

“Brains,” Argyle confirms. This seems to set Jon off in a fit of giggles, and then Argyle starts up, snickering into his closed fist, and the sight is almost enough to get Eddie to crack a smile when Steve Harrington appears in the archway.

“Uh oh,” Jonathan says, practically spasmodic at this point, “His hands are on his hips. That means he’s pissed about something.”

“Would you chuckleheads knock it off?” Steve snaps, hands still set on his hips in prissy little fists when he rounds on Eddie. “And seriously, man, you couldn’t’ve waited until the afterparty to get them stoned?”

“What, you think I did this?” Eddie gasps in faux shock. “I’m real hurt, Stevie, that you think these fine established gentlemen would need my help in getting their hands on good kush.”

This sets the boys on the couch off into conniptions again, this time Dustin barking at them to “Keep it down, assholes, we’re getting cutthroat over here,” and Nancy calls out “Language!” from the kitchen, which has Mike yelling back at her, and Eddie is just starting to enjoy himself when Steve whips the towel previously over his broad shoulder at Eddie’s face.

“If you’re done wreaking havoc here there’s someone on the landline for you,” Steve says, bending down to wipe crumbs from the coffee table.

That wipes the smirk off Eddie’s face. He sits up ramrod straight. “Who?”

“Who do you think?” Steve shoots back, and then shouts at the board game group, “ALL right, which one of you little shits spilled orange soda on the rug?”

There’s a return yell of “LANGUAGE” from the kitchen as Eddie hustles down the hall, the noise of the party fading as he reaches the mounted wall phone. He nearly pulls the cord from its socket in his haste to get the receiver to his ear- “Shit- hello?”

“Hi, Eddie.”

Eddie sags against the wall, letting his head tip back, eyes closed all the better to savor your voice- “Sweetheart. Thank god. I was dyin’ out here. Say my name again, would ya?”

“Eddie,” you laugh, and it’s chiding, but he doesn’t care, too flush with relief at hearing from you.

“How’s this nightmare of a holiday treatin’ my girl, hm?” he asks, settling the phone into the crook of his shoulder. If he had it his way, there’d be technology to laserbeam your voice permanently into his eardrums.

“It’s okay,” you sigh down the line. “I tried calling you at the trailer first, then when it kept ringing I figured you were at Steve’s party.”

“Yeah, honey, I’m at Steve’s. You want me to come pick you up?” Eddie brightens at the idea, warming up to it the more he talks. “I mean, I’d keep you all to myself, but it’s Christmas and I’m feeling generous. All anyone’s asked about so far is where the hell my girl is at.”

“That’s sweet,” you reply, and Eddie thinks you sound a little distant, a little… off, somehow. “No, that’s okay. I’m not in a partying mood. I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all.”

“Well you have it, sugar,” Eddie purrs. “You want me to read to you? There’s a real slick copy of the phone book hangin’ right next to me. Could really get you going.”

Eddie’s only partly joking. He’d happily read the yellow pages to you until his voice gave out if it meant keeping you on the line for a little longer.

He can picture you so clearly in his head- sitting pretty in that bay window, sock feet tucked under your thighs, twirling the phone cord around your fingers in anxious little twists as you speak softly- “That’s okay, Eds. You enjoy the party, okay? I’ll come by the trailer tomorrow morning with your gift.”

“Sure,” he replies, a little deflated.

After saying his goodbyes, he hangs the phone back on the hook and returns to his spot on the couch, leg bouncing a frenzied beat amid the chaos.

He lasts about three minutes like this, which he feels is more than generous.

As he’s sliding his arms back into his green fleeced flannel, there are a few jeers from the peanut gallery about how “Eddie’s going to suck some face with his girlfriend”, which earns the room a halfhearted and generalized middle finger.

Mrs. Byers stops him in the hallway, but it’s just to hand him two cling-wrapped plates of food with a warm, knowing sort of look about her.

And then Eddie’s off into the night to see his girl.

___

okay hoped you like it gonna post pt. 2 soon follow if u wanna see when it comes out!!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie Munson x greenwitch!reader #eddie Munson x witch!reader #eddie Munson #stranger things #eddie Munson fic #eddie munson x you #max mayfield

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