#Chapter Twenty-Four: The Hare Moon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

madebyleftovermuses · 5 years

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Chapter Twenty-Four: The Hare Moon

Finally made it through Hare Moon...only took me four days

Shirtless Harvey with Roz

Sometimes I forget Roz is the daughter of a priest

Roz’s dad is gonna be gone for a whole week

Yes, lets totally sin in a priest’s house

Nice room, Nicky

What is that?

Sabrina interrupting suicide?

Do cheerleaders do flash mobs?

Of course, Sabrina bragged about Nick

Nick just downing a whole bottle of whatever that stuff is

Is Mr. Kinkel gonna soundproof his garage like Freddy did?

Dad had a one-night stand with a carnie

Harvey has zero patience for this lady

Moon pie

Zelda licking the spoon

Sabrina inviting her aunts to the flash mob

Hilda wants to go, and Zelda says they are too busy

It is exactly the time to question tradition

Ms. Wardwell is confused

Nick can’t come because he’s getting drunk

Let’s say we didn’t investigate especially not with Robin

Sabrina has witch obligations so she can’t help

Robin not joining because he’ll be found out

Sabrina asking if Hilda astral projecting

“oh, no, tried to, couldn’t, drove” ❤

Come on, Sabrina let go to the Academy

The difference is there aren’t witch hunters around

“It means the Dark Lord is a sore loser, and he's cut us off like the petulant brat he is.”

Well, they now know Sabrina is Queen of Hell

Love Zelda calling Sabrina “your highness” despite being in trouble

Sabrina does have a savior complex

Hilda not knowing what “the tea” is

Ambrose is going to hell

“Well, what am I going to wear?” ❤

Nick just straight up punching Lucifer

The carnival grounds look creepy empty, but I guess that’s the whole idea

Roz exploring on her own

Snakeskin never a good sign

Is the snake charmer Medusa?

I wouldn’t say Roz is sex-obsessed

The carnies take the same day of the Hare Moon off?

What did Medusa do to Roz?

Robin alerted the carnival that Theo, Harvey and Roz where gonna snoop

Robin Goodfellow? Isn’t that the name of Puck?

Ostara what the fuck is that?

Odd that the Hare Moon and Ostara is on the same day

Stop tormenting Nick, Luci

Nick isn’t actually beating up Luci he’s beating up Blackwood which deserves it!

Faustus isn’t happy he’s been beaten up

Lilith asking why Ambrose is in hell

Privy counselor is what he came up with

Um, excuse me Crowley was king of hell! And I miss him (I know wrong show)

Ambrose is happy to be in hell

The magic comes from Luci himself, not hell

“Of course, Lucifer's power is celestial, not infernal” just blew Ambrose’s mind

Lilith laughing when Sabrina says they need another angel

Angel’s tried killing Sabrina last year and they stashed one away

What like you’ve never lied, Zelda

Hilda telling Zelda, Cee proposed to her

Zelda is sad that Hilda is gonna leave her

Hilda just said they haven’t set a date so she’s not going anywhere

Plus, I doubt Dr. Cee would let Hilda abandon her coven in their hour of need

I doubt you could explain to the hospital what happened

Yes, let’s not kill the angel in case we need more blood

Dorian has taken a taste

I don’t understand why Hilda couldn’t just check on her

Yes, your powers are waning but that don’t stop you from trying to figure out what made Roz sick

Sabrina about to find Nick with sex demons

“I can explain” no thank you, nothing you can say would be a good enough reason for that

Dorian is gonna drink the blood

“I thought it might help with my complexion.”

Hilda coming up with a way to use the little bit of blood Dorian saved

“What's a moon bath?” exactly what it sounds like

“Yes, it is lunacy, as in pertaining to the moon, lunar, lunacy.”

“should I go check on her?” YES! That’s is your friend and maybe you would figure out whats up with the carnies

More singing…. I’m not going to lie I think they sing better than Riverdale

It’s weird seeing everyone in white

Because the carnies in masks isn’t creepy

Hilda is like “look who’s here”

Nick is part of the coven why wouldn’t he be there? Just because he’s going down a downward spiral

I feel bad that Roz has to wait for Sabrina

The dude’s face is like “gross”

Because who doesn’t love Nutella?

They switched allegiance

Dark Lord can go get fucked

I wonder if Sabrina is still a virgin

Ambrose saying “the old old country”

Zelda asking if they are going to be moving on soon

Trust me dude, you don’t wanna stay in witch city

Hilda trying to make small talk

At least she takes care of the spiders and not hurt them…I on the other hand will burn the house down if I see a spider which explains why I’m not allowed a culinary torch

How the fuck you know if Hilda’s spiders are happy or not?

Its Circe and didn’t she transform people into animals?

Pretty sure they aren’t Pagan witches…think they are the pagan monsters

Nick really is over Dorcas

The snake did something we all hoped to do strike Dorcas and poison her

Medusa ain’t wrong…we are guest in this world and the animals were here first

Why not join forces? Aside from the virgin sacrificing thing Sabrina’s coven is in need of a new god

Harvey checking out Medusa’s tent and finding the statues

I can see how Nick thinks he didn’t do anything wrong, but it would have been better to just kick the snake out of the area

NO ONE TOLD YOU TO TAKE THE DARK LORD INSIDE YOU!!

“I detest teen angst” and then Dorcas’ face is like “damn”

Well, maybe if you fucking talked about it Nick instead of going off with sex demons

And the first season Nick did say that monogamy wasn’t really for witches so that’s also on you, Sabrina

Sabrina, people process trauma differently

Though Nick’s way isn’t healthy

Lilith really fucked up with her treatment of Nick while in Hell

Yes, I know the dark lord is inside Nick but so is Nick

You didn’t have to wrestle, I guess

Again, Nick you chose to sacrifice yourself! Sabrina could have figured out another way to trap the dark lord hell she didn’t even want you to do it

Damn Nick tell Sabrina how you really feel about her

That’s on you if you see Luci when you see Sabrina

Someone is coming for you Agatha and about time too

Never go towards the music

I like Dorcas’ outfit

Yes, because whatever is in Forest is gonna response with Wazzzup

It’s Medusa!!

Nick visiting Luci

Red mercury and dragons’ tears…Luci offering Nick drugs

Don’t do the favor

Everyone is in white but Prudence

They look like aliens when they are glowing

“I feel tingly all over” ❤ Ambrose

Fuck the pagans

Like rude taking things from the witches that shared their picnic with y’all

The moon got eaten

Sabrina needs to find Nick and Prudence wants her sisters

Roz is stone 😭😭

Snakes in the cots

Melvin running to Zelda is the best thing about Melvin this season

I mean, it’s not like you guys have a god right now

How come it took a while for Roz to turn into stone, but Dorcas was quick…was it because she looked at Medusa longer?

Turning back to the dark lord

Luci is gone

And Nick is dying

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virgil-writes · 3 years

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ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

chapter 9 - blood witch of whereverthefuck

SFW, Heisenberg finally bridges the gap. around 3.4K words.

The sun was but a distant sight in the sky when Karl Heisenberg emerged from the depths of his factory, cast iron pot in one hand, cigar in the other. He imagined it was an amusing, yet terrifying view for a passerby, the way the place seemed to be on fire behind him, the weird shine in his eyes through the tinted glasses.

Despite the badassery of the almost action movie worthy scene in his mind, there was an air of domesticity about it all that he did not particularly appreciate, like he was a steel worker bringing his lunch pail home after a long day’s work. Well, he was, in a way, but there would be no wife in a polka dot dress with victory rolls in her hair where he was going. There would be no record player, no brand-new, shiny vacuum bought with much hard work, no red lipstick kisses on his collar when he passed through the door. It would be nothing like the perfect married life he had been sold back before the war, back before he lost everything, even the hopes of getting a shitty wife and a shitty marriage, if the perfect ones weren’t an option.

Well, looking on the bright side, he might not get the wife but he certainly would get the dinner, with none of the weird recipes people came up with back in the day. He could still taste the sugary hell of the jell-o salads garnished with contraband whipped cream that had somehow gone off in transport, the absolutely disgusting texture of the jellied chickens. It was the first thing he had when he arrived back home, the family’s neighbor having invited him over for dinner to celebrate his survival after the brutality of the battles he had seen. It was a joyous moment and they pitied his family, applauded their devotion to the Black God, and so such a generous display of goodwill was the least they could do. They had pulled out all the stops, brought out the good china, went to the Duke in order to illegally get the powder that would be used to create the stuff of nightmares. The entire time he sat at the couch and listened to the lady of the house ramble about how much of a refined woman she was, that this was an American recipe and she had, through resourcefulness alone, managed to get her hands on a copy. The house was too small for him to move over to another room and evade her. He hardly remembered the rest of the night, mind fuzzy with infection and a likely deadly cocktail of experimental medicine, but the taste of sugar had forever attached itself to his memory.

He looked down at the iron pot in his hand with the highest of hopes.

Dusk painted a fascinating picture on the sky, a gradient of red and orange bleeding into the clear blue, the moon rising solemn from somewhere behind the tree line. Heisenberg stopped halfway through as he made across the yard, allowing himself to wallow in the quiet, eyes roaming from the sky to the forest like there was something he sought after. He did not know what he expected, perhaps an unexplainable crimson mist that looked suspiciously like a witch’s hand grabbing a tree trunk, or maybe something as small as a pair or two of glowing eyes staring at him in the distance. Now, he did feel like he was being watched, with special care and attention being devoted to his thighs and ass, but he was aware it was simply because lycans were everywhere and they always went for the juiciest bits.

He took another drag of his cigar as if to end the ritual there, his decennial moment of meditation coming to an end about two or three minutes after it started. He had never been one for standing still and thinking about life for too long. Idle hands and all that. Plus, he had much to do tonight, this very convoluted plan that he had begun concocting after getting to know that amazingly singular woman that had stitched him up in record time. He had considered his options carefully - go through the bridge and up the chalice shaft, past the altar, into the village, out of the village, and into the forest. The exact same path he had taken yesterday, with the same nosy villagers, with the same rat that had scurried back to the castle to give Alcina a report, the same twenty minute trek up ways and byways of the mountain to find the witch’s cottage. Simple, yes, but so very pedestrian, so unfit for his genius. He would rather take the scenic route.

The fence almost seemed to know what was about to happen as he came upon it. A flick of his hand and metal screeched and contorted onto itself, opening a perfect human-sized hole so Heisenberg could walk through and out into the woods behind the factory. He made sure to lock it back up with a well placed car door, some extra twists for good measure. Wouldn’t want rabid lycans giving Miranda information she did not deserve to have.

The woods greeted him like an old friend. It had been far too long since he had taken the now almost hidden path, visible only to the trained eye of someone who had walked it a thousand times over. He hadn’t brought the hammer, confident that their dealings had been amicable enough despite him having lost his temper, a single knife tucked away inside his inner coat pocket, though it was not meant to be used - at least not by him. He had never been one for forests, much preferred the comfort of metal and steam, but the emptiness of the land was a comforting sight. Some minutes of snow crunching under his boots later and he could see it in the distance, the porch covered in dirt and piles upon piles of pine branches, the shingled roof almost invisible amid the white of the landscape. The glass panes of the windows had broken long ago, the front door hanging on a single hinge, wooden boards pulling apart and away from the skeleton, rusty nails spilling out like the shack oozed under the abuse of time.

Heisenberg was far from interested in taking a peek inside. Instead he made for the edge of the canyon, where the river roared beneath him, cutting its way through the mountains, molding the stone with an unrelenting chisel. Not too far from him the suspension bridge swayed in tandem with the wind, rickety planks whining with every movement. He peered down after the first step, the creaking of wood promising a swift fall, the water below a monster waiting to swallow him. Only his freshwater Charybdis would most likely be Moreau, and he would very much prefer not being covered in disgusting green goo.

This would have been much easier if he had taken a leaf of steel, a chunk of iron; anything, really, to secure his steps and shield him from an untimely dip into ice. He walked with confidence, as if the bridge cared any for his belief that it would hold, and the cross felt like it took hours, relief washing over him when his feet finally touched solid land.

For a moment, Heisenberg wondered if he had taken the wrong turn and entered the wrong forest, if he had crossed the wrong bridge or passed through a portal to another world. The brush was no longer quiet, vibrant and full of life tonight, as much as the bleakness of winter would allow it; crickets, ravens returning to their roosts, hares out and about, even the odd lycan shyly watching him from behind a bush, too far from its pack and stronghold to have any edge in a fight. It was as if the fog had ceased to exist overnight, the witch’s sinister curse lifted as if this corner of the world was much too far from her domain. And perhaps it was, the backwoods ingrained in the locals’ collective memory as a place rife with spirits that wouldn’t rest, cave complexes that took nowhere, dens of boars and bears and wolves and all manner of things that would not hesitate to end a poor unfortunate soul’s life. He knew of a collapsed mine somewhere near, an escape route dug underground by the forefathers of his forefathers, before Miranda, before his lineage was cast down and stripped of rank.

Heisenberg recognized the hill that hid her cabin, like a hand that shot up from the ground to cup the house like one would hold a precious memento. He barely spotted the narrow path that went up and around it, a mite-eaten, ancient wooden post the only evidence of the fence that once stood there. He saw the smoke before he came upon the house, a strange sight from this angle, a large pile of firewood lined up against the kitchen window, flint axe resting against it. The clothesline than ran from the roof to a hook carved into the mountain stood empty, no doubt because of the heavy blizzards that had hit them recently, and a row of parallel wooden boxes covered with a good foot of snow called his attention, took up most of the space behind the shack. Figured that the witch in the woods would have a garden all year round.

He circled around to find her crouched, close to the tiny goat that had taken a liking to him the day before, petting its head affectionately, talking to it like one would to a child. She spoke as if the animal could understand her, invited it to go back into its coop with its mother, to have a nice, delicious dinner and enjoy a good night’s sleep. The goat bleated as if it understood, followed her into the pen like a dog follows its master. If she could talk to animals, that would seriously be the last fucking straw.

The actual dog was the first to spot him, sitting at the entrance to the porch, watching over their land through the curtain of hair that covered its eyes. The mutt stood to attention at the sight of him, ears perking up slightly, a huff pushed through its teeth, snarl starting to bubble within its stomach. He saw the witch straighten up her back at the sound, head turned slightly towards the guard dog as she listened intently. She returned to her chores when Heisenberg did not move and the sheepdog deemed him a safe intrusion.

“Good evening, darling,” he hollered, genuinely happy to see her, making her jump at the sound, a startled gasp escaping her lips. Her hands momentarily lost control and dropped the bucket of feed she carried. The grain spilled everywhere, chickens running amok trying to catch every kernel, and he could not help but laugh at the way her shoulders slumped and she sighed. Her hand came up to rest at her breast, near her heart, and she turned to face him with the most adorable, indignant expression.

It struck him that she looked even more beautiful here, away from the darkness of her cabin, bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, amber eyes shining almost a golden hue. Her features looked to have been sculpted with great care and concern, no detail left to chance; rounded eyes that spoke of innocence with an edge of mystery at the corners, well-defined lips that could curve into the most wicked of smiles, aquiline nose that gave her the semblance of some noble of a bygone era. Her eyebrows had just the right arch to them to make her friendly but give her an edge, and he was convinced she had to be the most expressive person he had ever met.

She stared daggers at him, brow furrowed, the sketch of a pout on her lips. Her hands came to rest on her hips and she puffed, as if wanting an explanation, an apology for the sudden intrusion. She would get neither. Her chest heaved still from fright, that delicate bosom that haunted his thoughts unfortunately covered by a thick charcoal-colored shawl. She wore a dress today, much to his delight and dismay. The embroidered shirt fit loosely around her waist, called attention to threaded relief; the skirt was placed too high on her hips to give her body any definition. The burgundy dress she wore now hugged her form beautifully, laces tied into a bow just below her waist. It was an invitation, almost, the way that he could take but a few steps forward and tug at the ends of it, watch as the fabric parted to reveal the soft flesh underneath. But this is what she wanted, wasn’t it? There is no doubt in his mind that every move of hers is meant to distract him, to lure him in like before. Sneaky little snake she was, dangerous but enticing.

“Good evening, Lord Heisenberg.” The witch greeted him at last, her expression softened. She, too, seemed glad to see him despite the mischief, a notion that both puzzled and pleased him more than he cared to admit. He could not remember the last time someone had smiled at his arrival, had shown him anything akin to a warm welcome. It puzzled him - they had met a day ago, under strange circumstances and stranger dynamic. But there was no denying the warm, fuzzy feeling in his heart, so foreign after decades of isolation, at the thought that they seemed to click perfectly, like their alliance, their friendship, was but a natural step in the course of their lives. He would never admit it, not under torture nor inebriated after a dozen drinks, that the prospect of not being so alone was almost as exciting as his plans to decimate his family.

He noticed how she seemed to stare beyond him, over his shoulder and through into the forest, eyes averting to the footprints on the snow to figure out just where he had come from. No doubt she would secure the way after he left, maybe cut the ropes on the bridge for good measure. It’s what he would do, anyway.

She soon busied herself again, bent down to pick up the bucket, turned around and walked to a wooden shed with its door ajar, lantern light shining bright to help her navigate the room. He followed, both her actions and her silence, and found that all manner of tools and bins were organized on shelves and boxes. It amused, but did not surprise him, to see that every last tool in her shed was made of bone, wood, stone or a combination of those. The shovel looked like an ox’s shoulder blade, the hay rake was made of nothing but wood and twine. A spear for fishing with flint for a tip, traps for fish and snares for game, a carved unstrung bow and a basket full of wooden arrows. Forget the rudimentary lifestyle of the village - she was positively prehistoric.

She refilled the bucket and went back outside, didn’t meet his eyes as she did, promptly taking the feed to the horse - the real, flesh and blood horse. It was as tall as she was, but its frame was massive. A work horse, undoubtedly, well built and taken care of. The red coat glistened against the lantern light, mane black as coal, and the eyes of a creature who had been through some shit. It nuzzled its snout against her hand as she sang its praises and a whole lot of gibberish about how cute it was. “If I may be so bold as to ask, were you sneaking behind my humble abode, my lord?”

“The bridge is still standing,” he shrugged and she nodded, her curiosity sated. “This was all ours once, you know.” Ours, he ruminated, glancing over the tree line. His family’s, the land where the factory was built and the land around it, her little hideaway included. It was theirs because no one else dared tread it, the frontier between civilization and the deep wilderness of the mountains. They were hardy of constitution and stoic in their beliefs, the perfect guardians of their haven and way of life. Father always spoke proudly of it, of how House Heisenberg had defended their home for generations. To think that he was now an eccentric recluse with no family to speak of or future in sight always left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Why yes, the lord and lady Heisenberg were ever so kind to allow us to live and care for this neck of the woods.” She spoke as if she knew them, as if she had spoken to them on occasion. His parents had never been the chatty kind, a characteristic he did not seem to inherit. They were proud and wary of strangers; he could not picture his parents giving away a chunk of land to a miserable family of no title or influence. And yet he could hear the smile in her voice, like she had recalled wonderful memories. Still she did not face him, closing up the animal pens for the night, fluffing up the hay for the animal’s bedding, bolting doors shut.

“The lord and lady Heisenberg have been dead for almost 90 years, buttercup. You alright in the head?” He let out a laugh alongside a puff of smoke from his cigar. What was her game?

“Indeed, a true tragedy, that.” There was sadness in the way she spoke, in the way her voice lowered as she continued. “Lady Kora would not let me near her,” the story was foreign to him, but the mention of the name lit something within - not a comfortable warmth, not a hint of nostalgia, but the sort of panic that destroys everything in its path. “I told her it was of no issue to me, but she would not hear it. She was worried that I, too, would come down with fever. I was much too young then, she said, such a bright future ahead.” Her sigh was not one of contentment but of grief. “I could have healed her.” She murmured at last, turned and held his gaze, a thousand apologies in her eyes, as if it had been her fault that he had never come to know his grandmother. He had her name and a portrait, a locket that had long belonged to her and the stories his mother told him. Father would not speak of her, having never recovered from the grief of losing her so young. She had died of smallpox, he had heard, when the virus swept across the village and left many graves in its path.

“You sure know your history,” he meant to chuckle nonchalantly, but instead grimaced, deeply uncomfortable with the idea that perhaps he had come across an immortal being that knew far too much, as absurd as it all sounded. “Very creative, too.” She seemed offended at the implication, chest puffed and mouth agape to answer him. He cut her off before she could scare him any further with her intricate web of lies. “It got a name?” Heisenberg pointed at the horse, and the beast eyed him warily as he approached, pawing at the ground when he was close enough to touch.

“Sir Bernhard von Rothenberg,” she announced proudly, outrage forgotten - at least for now. “My friend and guardian.” The hardy bear of the red mountain. For some reason, the absurdity of the name did not surprise him. To be fair, the horse looked like it would square up and try his best to kill him if pressed. Still, the thought of a woman rumored to be powerful referring to an animal as her guardian brought a laugh to his lips.

“And what about you, darling?” That was the burning question, was it not? Who was she, this woman so tightly wound up in mystery, who seemed to know too much and yet have lived too little, tucked away in her rickety shack with nary a hint of modernity in her accommodations and mannerisms. The question seemed to offend her, but most of all confuse her.

“You, my lord, may call me,” she began, voice lathered in drama, a perfectly polite curtsy as she spoke. “The Blood Witch of Whereverthefuck.”

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x reader #virgil writes

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