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prythianpages · 16 days

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The House of Veilwood | Eris

eris x chaos witch reader | summary: Veilwood was once a small village but when tragedy struck, only one house was left standing. A creepy, old wooden cabin that became the center of many stories and rumored to house an evil being. A story meant to scare children and keep them from wandering in the forest alone. A story both you and Eris grew up hearing that may hold more truth than both of you expected.

word count: 5.5K

warnings: mentions of scary creature

a/n: I've created some lore for chaos witch, more than I thought I would honestly. So consider this like an optional prologue. I originally wrote this only in your pov but decided it'd be fun to also include Eris and young Lucien in this! It also kind of fits Day 4 of @erisweekofficial with tradition as Eris passes the tale of the house of Veilwood to Lucien like his mother did to him and one of his hounds also makes an appearance.

Eris's POV

A scowl tugged at Eris’s lips, one that his younger brother often teased would become permanent. One that was because of said brother—the small but mighty thorn in his side, always dragging him into some new, unwanted mischief. Today’s trouble was no different, forcing Eris to leave the warmth of his study.

He should be reclining with a book in hand, his loyal hounds at his feet, but instead, he’s spending his afternoon, venturing into the depths of the Autumn forest.

Laika, one of his hounds, trots a few paces ahead, nose to the ground and tail wagging. She didn’t seem to mind the disruption in their routine. Her nose twitches at a scent and she glances back at Eris, eyes bright with excitement. It softens his hard expression for a brief moment.

As she leads him off the main path and toward a hidden trail, a sinking feeling settles into Eris’s stomach.

“Oh, sweet Lucien,” Eris mutters, realizing exactly where his brother was headed.

Of course, he’d be off to Veilwood—the village that once was. All but one house was destroyed after some sort of disaster, leaving many rumors to rise such as the one that claims that something dark and wicked dwells there. Eris had grown up hearing the tales of a creature–a monster–who had a great appetite for fae who wandered into that part of the forest, particularly the young fae.

The story had been passed down for generations, told by parents to keep their children from straying too far into the forest alone. Eris could still remember the way his mother would tell it, her voice dropping to a whisper as she described the creature’s shadow slinking through the trees. Always watching, always waiting. It was one of those stories that curled up in the back of his mind, the kind that made you think twice before venturing too far from the familiar paths.

And so, when Lucien had reached the right age, it only felt natural for Eris to pass the story on. It was practically a rite of passage, a tradition meant to instill caution. The tale had worked on Eris when he was young, keeping him close to home until he was old enough and brave enough to explore the deeper parts of the forest with a trusty hound by his side.

But Lucien was not like him. The story, rather than scaring him into staying safe, had sparked something else entirely—curiosity.

As he trails after his younger brother, Eris can’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the simpler times. When Lucien was just a babe, more interested in drooling on Eris's shoulders than running off on reckless adventures. He remembered the days when Lucien would follow him everywhere with wide-eyed innocence, asking endless questions and clinging to him like a shadow.

Eris had been his protector from the start, always watching over him. Something his father neglected to do and though Eris had his suspicions, he couldn’t help but feel both a sense of pity and envy toward Lucien.

There was that summer by the great Pyr River—Lucien had just turned ten, and Eris had taken Lucien fishing for the first time. It was a small tradition in Autumn, one that Beron had passed down to Eris when he was that age, and seeing as Beron gave little to no attention to Lucien, Eris took it upon himself to teach his younger brother. He showed Lucien how to wait, how to be patient, how to read the river’s current to help him catch a fish with his bare hands. It took many tries, countless mistakes, and no small amount of patience on Eris’s part, but he didn’t mind. It was all worth it to see Lucien’s eyes light up with wonder when he finally caught a fish on his own.

Those were the days when Lucien’s world was smaller, his adventures limited to the safe boundaries of their home and the woods just beyond.

But now, at thirteen, Lucien had grown bolder, his thirst for adventure outpacing Eris’s ability to keep up. Eris missed the days when his little brother’s greatest thrill was sneaking a lizard into their brother’s pudding or sneaking an extra pastry at dinner.

And yet, despite the exasperation, Eris felt that same old protectiveness stirring in his chest. Lucien might have outgrown drooling on his books and following him like a shadow, but to Eris, he would always be the little brother he had sworn to watch over.

With a resigned sigh, Eris quickened his pace.

The house of Veilwood looms ahead, its weathered cabin barely standing against the creeping decay of time. Lucien’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight. A cold breeze stirs the air, brushing against his skin and sending a shiver down his spine. The hairs on the back of his neck rise, the chill threatening to seep into his bones.

Suddenly, a branch snaps behind him, the sharp crack echoing through the forest. Lucien freezes, his heart pounding in his chest as his eyes dart around. Another rustle—a faint, creeping noise—sends his body into a rigid stance.

Before he can react, something barrels into him from behind, knocking him off his feet. Lucien lets out a panicked scream as he hits the leaf-covered ground, his mind racing with thoughts of sharp talons and gnashing teeth. He instinctively threw his arms over his head, bracing for the worst.

But instead of claws, something warm and wet drags across his face.

“Laika?” he gasps, his voice a mixture of relief and disgust.

Lucien pushes himself into a sitting position, wiping the slobber from his cheek as Laika, Eris’s hound, sat proudly in front of him, tail wagging excitedly. She lets out a bark, as if pleased with herself.

He groans, annoyance flickering across his face as he spots his older brother standing a few feet away. “You followed me?”

Eris stood with his hands casually tucked into his pockets, amber eyes glinting with amusement. “You made it far too easy. I thought I taught you better than that,” he replies with a smirk, referring to the time he had spent hours teaching Lucien how to hide his tracks and scent. He had hoped Lucien would use those skills for situations beyond hunting but now realizes Lucien still has much to learn.

Lucien’s frown deepens into a glare, but before he can utter a retort, Eris nudges him with the toe of his boot. “Up.”

Laika is the one to spring to her feet, her tail wagging even harder. “Good girl,” Eris murmurs, patting her affectionately before turning back to his brother, who was still sulking on the ground.

With a reluctant sigh, Lucien got up, brushing leaves from his pants. “I’m not a kid anymore,” he grumbles. “I don’t need to be followed like one.”

Eris arches a brow, his gaze softening slightly as he studies his younger brother. “Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up, Lu. Childhood is fleeting, and once it’s gone, there’s no getting it back. Besides, you’ll have plenty of time to be an adult in the future—and then you can earn the privilege of scaring the next generation with myths of the House of Veilwood.”

Lucien’s shoulders slump, his red hair falling into his face and covering the disappointment that has no doubt settled into his face. “So it was a myth… all of it?”

“Of course it is,” Eris chuckles. The breeze around them picks up, growing colder, but Eris was too focused on Lucien to notice. “Do you really think Father would let a creature like that roam freely in his court? It’s just an old, abandoned cabin—”

A sudden gust of wind howled through the trees, sending a shiver through both brothers. Lucien, startled, instinctively steps closer to Eris, his hand clutching his brother’s arm. Laika’s growl rumbles low in her throat, her ears perking up.

Eris’s attention snapped to the hound, his amusement evaporating as he follows her gaze. His eyes narrow as he catches sight of something swooping through the trees, its wings spread wide and casting long shadows across the ground.

“It’s the monster!” Lucien cries, pressing himself into Eris’s side, his voice high with fear.

Eris reacts quickly, one hand wrapping protectively around Lucien’s head, while the other summons a bright flame. He tracks the creature as it flies closer, his body tense, ready for a fight—until it lands on a tree branch with a soft hoot.

“It’s just an owl, Lu,” Eris says, tugging gently at Lucien’s hair. The fire in his hand fades away.

Lucien slowly pulls away from his brother, peeking out from behind his arm. His face was still pale, fear lingering in his eyes as he looks up at the creature perched above them.

“Why is it so ugly?” he mutters, his voice small.

Eris huffs out a laugh. “I’m sure it thinks the same of you.”

The owl lets out another low hoot, its round, dark eyes fixed unblinkingly on Lucien. It has him shifting uneasily, feeling the weight of its gaze pressing down on him. He turns away, squeezing Eris's arm tighter. But when his eyes flicker back to the cabin, they widen in shock.

“Someone’s inside!”

Eris follows his brother’s gaze but sees only shadows clinging to the weathered wood and windows. “You’re imagining things, Lu. No one’s lived here for centuries. The whole village is abandoned.”

But Lucien shakes his head vehemently, his hands tightening into fists. “No! I saw it—a pair of red eyes! They were looking right at me from inside the cabin!”

“I think you hit your head when Laika knocked you over,” Eris brushes off, glancing down at the hound, who waited patiently for an order. “Come on, let’s head back home.”

But Lucien stands his ground, his brows furrowed in frustration. “I know what I saw.”

Eris sighs.

“Alright, let’s say there is someone inside,” he pauses to cast a glance back at the cabin, amber eyes narrowing. “What do you expect me to do about it? I’m not exactly eager to knock on the door and have to interact with whatever strange being has chosen to live in the middle of nowhere like this.”

Lucien’s hands went to his hips in a posture that so perfectly mimicked their mother that Eris almost groaned aloud. He hated when Lucien did that. It was as if their mother’s spirit inhabited his little brother at that moment.

“Are you scared?” Lucien asks, one eyebrow arching in challenge.

“No.”

“Then go knock on the door.”

“I’m not knocking on that door.”

Lucien’s eyes gleam with a hint of mischief. “So you are scared.”

Eris glares down at him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not scared,” he insists, voice edged with irritation. “You know, if you were so brave to come here on your own, why don’t you go knock on the door?”

Lucien crosses his arms over his chest, his red hair fluttering slightly in the wind. He gives Eris a smug look. “You’re the adult here,” the younger Vanserra says and with a casual shrug that was far too cocky for someone his age, he adds: “I’m just a kid.”

Eris let out a slow breath through his nose, trying to keep his composure. He was not going to win this one and he found the grin spreading across Lucien’s face grating. It’s not that he was scared to go knocking on that door. He much rather preferred for them to head home instead of entertaining a silly myth.

Though he hated to admit it, there was a part of him—the older brother part—that didn’t want to lose face. Lucien’s grin widens, sending his hesitation. “Go on,” he says, waving in an exaggerated manner toward the house.

“Fine.” Eris hisses out. His pride was on the line now and he wasn’t about to let his little brother win this ridiculous game. “I’ll knock on the door.”

Both Lucien and Laika blink at him in surprise. He motions for his hound to stay put, gaze flickering between her and Lucien. A silent understanding comes between them–protect Lucien. The hound steps closer to Lucien, her nose nudging against him affectionately.

“I’ll see if whoever lives there has any appetite for a particular young fae male with russet colored eyes.”

“Hey!”

Eris turns to face the cabin. The windows were dark and hollow, staring back at him like empty eyes. He squares his shoulders, every sense on high alert. If Beron were to find out he entertained this idea…he much rather the creature from the tales of the house of Veilwood to be true than for the former to happen...

As he steps forward, the wind howls again and the eerie creak of the wood makes the cabin seem even more sinister. There’s a small moat that surrounds the house, the only way to get to the door being a path of moss covered stones. It’s all like a warning–for him to stay away.

His heart pounds in his chest, but he takes a deep breath and wills the streaming river beside the house to soothe his nerves. The owl, still perched on a nearby tree, lets out another hoot. “I’m going to knock once,” Eris says over his shoulder. “And then we’re leaving, got it?”

Though Eris can't see him, Lucien nods quickly, the younger's earlier confidence dissolving into nervous energy. Eris reaches the final moss-covered stone, his hand hovering mid-air, poised to knock.

“Any second thoughts?”

Before Eris can respond, a sharp gust tears through the clearing, rustling the branches above and sweeping through his hair. The old, weathered door gave a sharp creak and slowly began to swing open on its own.

“Too late for that.”

Eris squints into the darkness that seems to defy the daylight. The sun should have illuminated at least part of the interior, but the shadows clung unnaturally to every surface, swallowing any hint of light. He blinks, willing his eyes to adjust.

But there’s nothing to see.

A flicker of relief settles in his chest. “There’s no one here!” Eris calls over his shoulder to Lucien.

He steps forward, one boot crossing the threshold. The wooden floor groans beneath him. He reaches for the door, hand wrapping around the cold, rusted knob. As he tries to pull it close, the door resists, as though something on the other side is holding it back.

Eris frowns and pulls harder, but the door doesn’t budge. The stubborn resistance unsettles him, and he feels a deeper cold radiating from within the house. He lets go, deciding it wasn't worth the effort, and makes his way back to Lucien and Laika.

“Are you sure you didn’t see anything?”

“There was nothing.” Eris says and then he’s playfully grasping onto Lucien’s head. ‘Now, let’s go home and get this big head of yours checked.”

Lucien pries Eris’s hands off his head and gives his older brother a shove in retaliation. “There’s nothing wrong with my head and it’s not big!”

Laika walks ahead of them, guiding them on the way back home. Lucien continues grumbling, spouting off complaints about how his head is perfectly fine and how their other brother, Reed, was the one whose head needs to get checked.

As they continue to walk away from the infamous house of Veilwood, an odd feeling urges Eris to look back. It was like a pull, a lingering unease, and against his better judgment, he turned his head.

Two glowing red eyes stare back at him from the darkened doorway.

And then he heard it. A voice–low, ancient and laden with darkness.

“Son of Autumn. It is not time to play yet. Our paths will cross in due time.”

Eris tenses and a sudden, sharp shiver runs up his spine. The door to the house slams shut with a heavy finality, locking those glowing eyes within the cursed cabin.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Lucien looks up at him, oblivious to the ominous presence. “Oh, the door slammed shut. Must be the wind, right? It’s been annoying us all day. Can we just winnow home now?”

Eris doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze still locked on the house. He tears his eyes away after a moment, forcing a chuckle. “Yeah, must be the wind.”

But the words felt hollow in his mouth and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something far darker than a simple myth lay waiting within that cabin...

Centuries later, your pov

Every night before bed, in lieu of a lullaby, your father would tell you a story. His voice was like a soothing hum, his words drawing you into a world of wonder. And when your eyes fluttered shut, those tales would blossom in your dreams, vivid and alive. There were countless stories you held dear, ones you'd ask to hear over and over again. Yet one, in particular, clung to you most tightly.

It was not just a story—it lingered in your thoughts, haunting you like a memory half-forgotten.

The tale of the House of Veilwood.

Veilwood was the name of a forest in Autumn, just north of the town where you lived and near the great Pyr river. Long ago, before it became a dark and forsaken place, Veilwood was a small village—a humble stop for travelers passing through the court. No one could say for certain what had befallen it. Some whispered of a great fire, while others spoke of a storm so violent it swept the village clean. Whatever the disaster, it left only ruin in its wake.

Well, everything except one house.

The house remained standing, untouched by whatever tragedy had claimed the rest of the village. It had since gained a reputation as a cursed place, where something wicked lingered within its walls. Few dared to enter Veilwood, and as per your father, even fewer returned unchanged. Fear of the forest ran deep with travelers taking longer, safer paths to avoid the looming shadows that stirred within its depths.

According to your father, the heart of Veilwood harbored a creature—a massive and owl-like being with claws sharp enough to slice through flesh, and eyes like polished obsidian. In the story your father would tell you, the creature would glide effortlessly through the night sky and along the riverbank, searching for its next victim to snatch in its talons. It would lure its prey with its terrifying cry, tricking their victims by the volume of its screams. If its cries sounded distant, it meant danger was very near, contrary to what one would believe.

The creature wasn’t what haunted your mind. Rather, it was the house. You dreamt of it often. It appeared as a lonely cabin, tucked away in the tangled embrace of Autumn’s ancient woods. Though shrouded in mystery and menace, the house never frightened you. Instead, it pulled at your curiosity, inviting you to open its door. But in your dreams, there was no sign of the owl-like creature your father had described in such chilling detail.

Only two glowing, fae-like red eyes would greet you from the shadows—and then you would wake.

As you grew older, the realization dawned that your father had mingled truth with lies to keep you from wandering into the forest. The woods of Autumn were no place for a child, after all, and though your curiosity had often led you astray, this was one warning from your father you had always heeded.

Until now.

Your breath hitches as you come to a halt, eyes widening in quiet disbelief. The house of Veilwood stands before you, exactly as it had in your dreams.

The towering trees loom overhead, their gnarled branches twisted like ancient, skeletal fingers. Moss drapes from them like tattered curtains, swaying eerily in the breeze. The cabin is small and crooked, its steep, warped roof blending with the thick canopy of twisted trees. The weathered wood of its walls, nearly swallowed by creeping vines and patches of moss, makes it seem as if the forest itself is trying to reclaim it.

Dim, flickering lights glow from within, casting faint golden reflections on the surface of the murky swamp that surrounds the cabin like a moat. The water feeds into the streaming river nearby and laps softly against the moss-covered stones that form a crude path to the entrance. With a deep breath, you step onto the first stone, your pulse quickening.

A shadow swoops overhead, dark and sudden, and your heart jumps into your throat. Your father's tales flood back—stories of the creature, the monster that stalks these woods. But then, as your eyes dart upwards, you catch sight of a small barn owl gliding above you, its wings silent as it perches on a nearby tree branch.

It hoots softly, and you wonder if this simple, cute looking bird had inspired the terrifying monster of your father’s story. The owl watches you with its unblinking, beady eyes as you continue, the wind picking up just enough to stir your hair and coax you forward.

When you reach the last stone, the door swings open before you have a chance to knock.

"Y/n!"

You smooth your dress and offer a small, tentative smile. “Deirdre,” you greet the older fae woman, her features far from the sinister creature your father once described.

But you wouldn’t dare tell him that. Your visit here was a secret, and if you wanted to avoid becoming the talk of the village—or worse, facing your stepmother’s wrath—you would have to keep it that way.

There were many rumors about Deirdre, some so outlandish they were easy to dismiss, but others... others seemed to hold a grain of truth. Deirdre was a mysterious figure, always draped in dark, shadowy clothing that made her seem almost a part of the night itself. When she ventured into town, it was only briefly, and she kept to herself, rarely speaking to anyone. Her most frequented spot was the town apothecary, a place she visited so regularly that it drew whispers and wary glances from the other patrons.

That’s where you first met her.

You had been sifting through the shelves of dried herbs, your fingers lingering in an uncertain manner over a selection meant to ease your father’s persistent pains. The owner of the apothecary was frustratingly no help, claiming the same as the town’s healer did–that there would be nothing to ease your father’s pain.

You must’ve looked so lost, so desperate for Deirdre’s soft, low voice interrupted your thoughts. Without hesitation, she pointed to the right herbs and then pulled a small vial full of dark liquid from her bag. "Mix these with care and intent, and he’ll find relief," is all she had said.

After she left, the apothecary owner pulled you aside, her eyes darting toward the door. “I’d stay away from her if I were you,” she warned, her voice a low hiss. “That woman is nothing but trouble.”

But you didn’t listen.

To this day, you still don’t know what had been in the vial Deirdre had given you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Deirdre’s advice worked, and for the first time in months, your father’s pain eased. So, you found yourself returning to the apothecary more often, despite your step-mother’s growing disapproval. Each time you saw Deirdre, you couldn’t resist finding an excuse to talk to her.

There was something about her presence that intrigued you, a quiet power in the way she carried herself. It resonated with you.

The last time you crossed paths, she had slipped you a handwritten recipe for a tonic. You don’t know how she knew of your predicament but once again, you didn’t care. The tonic you brewed cured the fever that had a firm grip on your younger brother for days in an hour. You had hoped to see her at the apothecary soon to thank her and also ask for more of the vial she had given you for your father. When days turned into weeks of not seeing her, you bribed the apothecary shop’s owner for more information about Deirdre.

And now, here you were, standing outside her secluded home. The lonely house of Veilwood, the very one from the story your father told you about.

“How did you know I was coming?” you ask.

Deirdre’s dark eyes glitter with quiet amusement. She nods toward the owl, which remains perched on a tree outside, still watching you. “Alden,” she explains, her tone light. “He’s an old friend of mine and always the first to alert me of visitors. Now come inside before the chill of the forest gets to you.”

A strange sensation washes over you as you step into the house, the thrill of the unknown mixing with the rush of adrenaline. Inside, the cabin is small but cozy. So much more alive than you ever imagined and so much more bright than it had been in your dreams.

Garlands of vines and branches criss-cross overhead, woven together with fae lights that twinkle like stars. Your gaze drifts upward to the wooden beams, where runes—ancient symbols—have been carved with care. The air is thick with the scent of herbs and smoke, and the warmth from the blazing hearth immediately soothes your nerves.

“My father told me stories about this place,” you comment, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes scan the room, taking in every small detail.

“Did he now?” Deirdre’s tone carries that same hint of amusement you’d seen in her eyes. “And is it all you dreamed it to be?”

You pause, her question hanging in the air. Your eyes shift to her, but Deirdre’s back is to you as she continues her way to the kitchen. A question sits on the tip of your tongue, but instead, you say, “Well, there’s certainly no monster waiting to prey upon me here. A bit disappointing, really.”

Deirdre turns her head just enough to throw a smirk over her shoulder, her dark, raven hair swaying slightly with her movement. “My apologies. I’ll be sure to summon Caraxes next time, just for you.”

You chuckle softly, the tension in your chest easing as you take in more of the space.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, its warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. A cauldron hangs over it, the smell of something brewing, red smoke curling from its top. Above the hearth, an altar is meticulously arranged—candles, knick-knacks, crystals, and a chalice. To the right of the fireplace, is a simple wooden framed bed, the sheets and blanket a soft cream color with red embroidered swirls along the edges.

Against the far wall stands a towering bookshelf, crammed with thick, ancient tomes that seem to pulse with forgotten knowledge. At its center, on the middle shelf, a black leather-bound book catches your eye. There’s no title on its spine, only the symbol of an eye engraved in rich gold, watching you. It feels alive, its gaze almost hypnotic, and for a brief moment, you could swear it winks.

Startled, you turn your head sharply, focusing on the left of the hearth. A long, shadowy hallway stretches farther than the cabin should allow, leading to a single, distant door. Along the walls, portraits of fae women, each bearing an uncanny resemblance to Deirdre, gaze out with knowing eyes. Every one of them wears a red pendant identical to hers. They must be her ancestors.

You feel drawn to the hall, eager to study the names beneath the portraits, but a sharp whistle from the kettle breaks your trance and pulls you back to the main room.

Deirdre gestures for you to sit at a small table by one of the windows while she prepares tea. When Deirdre returns, she sets two steaming cups in front of you, along with a plate of bread and cheese. "Tell me," she says, sitting across from you. "What troubles you, my dearie?"

You hesitate, glancing down at the tea swirling in your cup. “What makes you think something’s troubling me?”

“Not many come here without reason…” Her voice trails off, her eyes drifting toward the window. Her hand reaches up, cradling the pendant that hangs from her neck. The stone in the center glows faintly, a crimson hue that pulses with her touch. For a moment, you think you see shadows swirling around it, but then her gaze snaps back to you, sharp and knowing.

“Do you know what I am?”

There’s a sudden lump in your throat. “Yes.”

“Do you fear me?”

“No.”

A slow smile spreads across Deirdre’s face, her eyes softening. “Good,” she says quietly, her voice like a gentle breeze. “There is nothing for you to fear.”

Your fingers curl and uncurl from your cup of tea, still left untouched. The steam still lingers, the scent of chamomile and lavender soothing your nerves. “I…,” your voice trails off, unsure and uncertain. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Deirdre takes a slow, deliberate sip from her tea, her gaze never leaving yours. She sets the cup down with an air of patience, as though she’s been waiting for this moment. “What makes you think that?”

Hesitation makes you falter for a moment. A part of you—the part shaped by your stepmother’s strict religious teachings and narrow beliefs—screams that this is wrong. That you should flee, run as far as you can from this world of strange happenings, from the unknown that threatens everything you thought you understood.

But then there’s the other part of you, the one that has always felt different, the part that resonates with your heart and finds comfort in Deirdre’s presence. Something about her calls to you, like a whisper of recognition deep in your bones, even though the words you’ve exchanged have been few.

Her dark gaze holds yours, steady and unwavering, filled with a silent promise that there’s nothing to fear. That whatever is happening to you is not something to run from, but to understand. There’s no pity in her eyes, only understanding. You want to sink into that feeling, to let it wrap around you like the warmth of a the fireplace does…

“Things have been happening—strange things. Things I can’t explain.” The words spill out before you can stop them. “It’s like there’s something restless in me..."

"Sometimes when I’m overwhelmed, things around me shift, like the air gets thick and…trouble seems to follow.”

You lift your gaze to meet Deirdre’s. “But then you came along and for once in my life, I did something good. My father’s pains at night have subsided enough for him to get some sleep. My brother’s fever lifted quickly. The healer said that if the fever had lasted a day longer, he would not have made it…”

“How long have you been hearing the whispers in the wind?”

“For so long, I don’t even remember when it started…,” your voice trails off, surprise flickering in you. “How do you know?”

“Because I hear them too,” Deirdre replies and as an afterthought adds: “When they allow me to.”

You find yourself leaning in, muscles relaxing in relief. “How do you know what they’re saying?”

“Would you like me to teach you?”

Deirdre rises from her seat, extending her hand, and your breath catches as red magic swirls from her palm, flickering like flames along her fingertips. When you meet her gaze, she smiles at you and there’s warmth in her smile that spreads like sunlight after a storm.

A quiet reassurance. You could say no—she wouldn’t press. But in that same smile is the promise that if you say yes, she’ll be there, like a beacon guiding you through the shadowy unknown.

Your gaze lingers on her glowing, red hand. “Am I a witch?”

The question leaves your lips in a rush, your voice trembling slightly as you finally say it out loud.

“Only if you wish to be.” Deirdre responds gently.

Her answer sends a flutter through your chest. Only if you wish to be. Once again, you’re given a choice. It lingers in the air between you, thick with possibility, as if the very world is holding its breath, waiting for your decision.

You want to ask more, to press her for answers but you realize that this is a matter entirely up to you. The wind stirs outside, its sudden howl rattling the windows, causing branches to scrape against the glass. A shiver runs down your spine—not from the cold, but from the weight of the choice now resting in your hands.

You glance down at your own palms, your fingers tingling with the faintest hum of power, like something inside you is waking up. The flutter in your heart steadies, and suddenly, the decision feels clearer, easier than you’d expected.

“Okay,” you say, your voice stronger than before, certain.

And just like that, you take her hand, allowing her to guide you into a world you’re itching to understand.

[eris x chaos witch masterlist]

a/n: kudos to you if you got the House of the Dragon reference. I just couldn't think of another name lol. Same with the name I gave Eris's hound in this.

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar eris #eris x witch reader #eris x chaos witch #erisweek2024

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frankcastleonlyfans · 2 years

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𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐀.𝐓

pairing: aemond targaryen x witch!reader

summary: queen alicent wants to exile her son's lover, who she thinks is a witch.

words: 3,1k

author's note: this came during a funny conversation with my friend lola @knifes0ldier and we got into the common sense that aemond definitely has a knife kink. also, the Bloody Lady is a goddess that i made up with, as i don't have that much knowledge on essosi religions.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

18+ warning

warnings: the greens are their own warning, mentions of animal cruelty, descriptions of wounds, unprotected sex, knife kink, blood kink, iron throne sex, NOT MEANT FOR MINORS!!!

gif by @harwin-breakbones

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Honestly, you weren't surprised at all. Queen Alicent always made sure to make you know that she hated you, and your presence, even if most of the time she didn't had to say a word to do so. And you loved it. You loved to watch how uncomfortable she got with your presence. You would widely open your eyes and stare at her with a wicked grin in your lips, because you adored to observe how her body shivered. And that was probably the reason why Ser Criston would always grab a hold tight on his sword, every time you'd pass across the Queen on the hallways.

"But I don't get it, my Queen. What have I done to be exiled?" You frowned, biting back one of your creep smirks. This wasn't the right time to piss Alicent off.

"You think you're so smart, don't you, Y/N?" Alicent asked in a stern tone. You wanted to snort so badly, "I don't know what kind of sick spell you have on my son, but I am not letting this go forward. I want you out of King's Landing by tomorrow morning, otherwise, Ser Criston will take your heart out, just like you did to my horse. I know it was you!"

"I don't know what you mean, your Grace." You lied, faking a pout.

It wasn't your fault that her horse was the only one in the stable that gave you permission to kill him. It was his wish to be used as a sacrifice to the Bloody Lady. But of course you couldn't tell that to the westerosi Queen, a woman with very different beliefs. She would have your head right there if you said what you truly thought about the faith of the Seven.

"I don't think it's a coincidence that ever since my brother-in-law brought you here, the animals in the castle had reduced in quantity. I don't care for what you do in Essos, but I will not tolerate witchcraft under my roof!" She yelled at your face.

During one of your visits to Braavos, you had been kidnapped and sold to a lord in Pentos. The lord gave you as a gift to Daemon Targaryen, who brought you to Westeros after his lady wife died, and he gave you to his brother, the King Viserys Targaryen, who then gave you as toy to his son, Aemond Targaryen, whom you had a very intimate relationship with.

You were originally from Qarth, but you decided to become a peregrine, in search for your destiny and a purpose in life, and use your magical talents as a way of living. You could easily have runned away from your kidnapper, but something in you told you to trust the course. You never thought a valyrian-westerosi boy could be your destiny, but the spectro of the Bloody Lady inside of you told you that Aemond was the right one.

"I wish I could help you with some information, but unfortunately I know nothing about this, my Queen."

Alicent took a deep breath. They were at war, and she probably would regret not having a witch on her side, but she couldn't have you there anymore. It's been long since the Queen last felt safe, knowing that there was someone in the castle that could easily kill everyone without even using their hands. She needed you gone, even if her son would hate her for exiling you.

"I want you gone, Y/N. And don't bother saying your goodbyes to Aemond, I will tell him that the guards saw you running away. He will think that you played him just to have your freedom. There's a ship waiting for you in the harbor." She said, pointing to the door for you to leave.

But you weren't going anywhere. Aemond was yours, and not even his mother could take him from you. You thought about killing her to get her out of your way, but without Alicent, Aegon would run the seven kingdoms recklessly. You cared about Aemond too much to let his brother rule without someone there to control him.

During the middle of the night, you were supposed to be packing your stuff and leaving the castle while everyone was asleep. But you thought about being honest with Aemond and telling that his cunt of a mother had been picking on you. He would have your side, and wouldn't let you leave. You knew he cared about you just the same. He was your lover, and even though everyone at the Red Keep thought of you as an essosi wild animal, and made fun of your accent, Aemond never did. The prince loved your distinct accent while speaking the common tongue, the liked when you talked on low valyrian languages you spoke, and he liked when you say something in qartheen, your mother language.

You never told him about your gifts. He knew about your beliefs and your devotion to the Bloody Lady, but he had no idea about your powers. You liked to call it illusions, as they weren't really powers. You were no God, so therefore was no power in you. With a have of your hands water could turn into wine, in a blink of an eye a man could drop dead, and yet you were nothing but a simple maidservant to a prince, whom you were starting to fall in love with.

Aemond had no guards on his door. He liked to joke that he sleeps with his eye open, as the other one is always closed. It worried you about his safety, but he promised you that he could take care of himself.

As you opened and closed the the door behind you to an enormous and vast darkness, you felt the coldness from a sharp blade against you neck.

"How did you know I like knives?" You teased under your breath.

Aemond grunted in your ear and turned you around to his body. He had your neck on his hand, and kissed you passionately, pratically growling to your mouth. It killed you to break that kiss, but you two needed to talk.

"Wait– I need to talk to you." You whimpered when his hands found it's way to your backside, where he squeezed while kissing your neck.

"You don't come to a man's chambers in the middle of the night to talk, Y/N" Aemond purred, extending his trail of kisses until between your breasts.

"Unfortunately what I have to say is very serious, my prince." You used your finger to lift his chin to look at you, even if you hardly could see his face.

Aemond groaned in annoyance, "Fine. Who's bothering you? I hope I don't need to kill anyone important."

"Oh, hopefully it's not gonna come to that. I'd hate for you to commit matrecide, even if your mother fucking hates me." You hugged his body, resting your forehead in his chest. 'His scent is so vicious', you thought, 'I could get drunk to it.'

"What did mother do this time?" He asked, leaving soft kisses on the top of your head. He liked to play with your locks between his fingers.

"She wants to exile me. I'm supposed to be on board of ship heading to Pentos right now. I thought I should tell you that before I leave, even if she told me not to." You said. Aemond wasn't easy to manipulate, but you tried anyways.

"And why would she do that?" The prince cocked an eyebrow.

"She... doesn't like our relationship. She hates me Aemond, she thinks I'm a witch!" You tried using a sweet voice, that perhaps would make him believe you.

Aemond stayed a few seconds in silent. Then he took a deep breath, and held your head between his two hands, holding you still.

"How long will you keep lying to me?" The prince asked in a stern voice. You couldn't see, but he was so close to you that his warm breath touched your lips.

You gulped. You were not afraid of Aemond, as he was just as unhinged as you were, but sometimes he would make you nervous, and you were too afraid to disappoint him.

“’m not lyin'.” You murmured under your breath.

"Oh please, Y/N. It's not because I don't talk about it that I don't see it. And, I saw you eating the horse's heart. Mother really loved that horse, you know?"

You frowned your forehead, questioning your own cunning. You remembered that night very well, and you hadn't seen Aemond all day.

"You're probably wondering how I know about that. I was following you that day. All day." He said, too closer to your ear. It made you shiver, "I don't care what you do as long it doesn't hurt anyone I care about. And... I thought it was quite arousing seeing you all covered in blood."

It brought you comfort that you didn't needed to lie to him anymore. At least he knew the truth about you, and accepted you as you were.

"We can talk about it later. But your mother really wants me gone! She said she'll have Ser Criston to take my heart out just like I did to her horse!"

Aemond thought it was quite adorable. You really were a witch, and yet you were there, in front of him and asking for his help. A mere powerless, one-eyed prince. What could he do that you couldn't?

"I don't want to hurt her, but I can't live without you either." You confessed. "The Bloody Lady send me here to find my destiny. You know I was sold, and you now know I could have effortlessly escaped. I stayed for you. She told me we were meant to be with each other."

Aemond was devoted to his faith, just like his mother. But he liked to believe in something he'd seen with his own eye. None of the Seven had appeared to him, and there was you.

"Show it to me. Do something." He asked.

You wouldn't normally use your gifts in front someone who couldn't understand them, but you loved Aemond. You knew he needed a reason to have your back, and his feelings for you weren't enough.

So you did a basic illusion. With just a thought, all of the candles inside his chambers were alight. Now you could see his face, and how he looked around the room amused.

"If we are meant to be together, I'm not letting my mother take you away from me. I promise." The prince touched your chin with his fingers and pecked yours lips.

You noticed the dagger in his waist, the one that sooner he used to fright you and held it against your neck. Now that you weren't going anywhere, and had quite a free time...

"I wasn't kidding when I said I liked knives." You purred, touching his chest with your fingertips.

Aemond wore a white linen shirt, but the laces were untied, revealing his naked toned chest.

"I just happen to know a place with a lot of blades." The prince murmured, wearing a devilsh smile.

Aemond took your hand before you could protest, like he know you would. The outside of the throne room would be very well guarded at this time of the night, so he took one of the secret passages he had recently discovered. The passage took you to one of the hallways, where you took the stairs and another passage inside a wall, and lead you both to the place where he wanted to be.

The Great Hall was vast and empty. Without a warning, you used your magic again to alight the thousands of candles around the space, hoping to take Aemond by surprise. He didn't even flinch when one of the candles burned beside him.

He took your hand and leaded you to the stairs to the throne. All swords around it made it so intimidating, you felt like you were vandalizing a sacred place. In fact, you were. None of you were supposed to be there.

"We should get back." You said, "We can fuck in your bed, it's gonna be way more comfortable."

"Oh, but what would be the fun in that?" Aemond replied in a teasingly way.

He dramatically sat on the throne, staring at you with a darkened gaze. The prince opened his legs and patted his thigh, asking you to sit on him.

"Aemond, c'mon. Your brother sits there, it's disrespectful." You muttered.

He placed a finger in front of your lips and hushed you. The prince left small kisses and bites to your neck and collarbone. One of his hands caressed your belly and breasts, and the other went between your legs to open them apart. Your soft whimpers echoed through the hall, as your lover played with your covered hard nipples. Aemond whispered sweet things to your ear, letting his hands do all the work to your body. You slightly rocked your hips against his thigh to create friction between your legs, where you were desperately needy.

"Undress yourself." The prince demanded.

You took your clothes off and helped him to do the same. The room was freezing cold, and all the steel around and under your bodies weren't helping at all, so you decided to warm yourself in him. Aemond sat again, unbothred by the cold blades behind his back, and pulled you to be on top of him. His erection sprunged up and hit is stomach, still leaking pre cum. You felt his hard cock touching your inner thigh, and you rocked against it, trying to tease him. Aemond's lips immediately attached to your right nipple, and his left hand played with the other. Moans escaped from both of your throats.

"Look at you..." He breathed, sliding the smallest amount of his tip inside you. "I'm gonna fucking destroy you."

"Fuc– Aemond, please!" You moaned, trying to pull him closer.

"Say my name, my love." Aemond pushed further into you, your walls adjusting to his impressive size. He kept rubbing at your clit, making you wetter and wetter by the second.

"Oh, Aemond!" You cried out as he bottomed out inside you, fitting so deliciously perfect in your cunt. "I need you so bad, my prince. Please, fuck me!" You sounded desperate, but it made Aemond so aroused he couldn’t control himself anymore.

Aemond's hands grabbed your bottom tightly. He slapped the place, making you squirm on top of him. As your skin burned in pain, he guided your movements, leading you all the way up to his shaft and pounded deep into you. He quickly set a rough pace, pounding into your throbbing cunt with quick and profound thrusts.

You tried to hold on something other than him, and unconsciously grabbed one of the loose blades on the arm of the throne, accidentally cutting yourself. You moaned loudly to the pain, taking your wound to your sight. You brushed your bloodied hand to your lover's lips, and Aemond licked your blood, maintaining eye contact with you. He let out a growl when the taste of copper met his tongue.

"Do you feel how fucking deep I am?" The prince twisted your hair in his fist and pulled it, leaving you neck exposed, as he slammed his hips into you "You're doing so good for me, my good little whore."

Aemond bucked his hips at the feeling of your walls stretching around him, making your face contort in pleasure. You looked at him, digging your fingertips into his shoulders, lifting your hips ever so slightly as he thrusted up into you again.

"Fuck, you feel so good." You moaned, bouncing up and down slowly.

Aemond took one of your hands in his, and pressed it against the loose blade again, opening another cut on your skin. You hissed in pain, while he felt your walls tightening around him.

"You gonna cum for me? You gonna make a mess on my cock, princess?" Aemond teased, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.

You pushed his shoulders down on the backrest of the throne, resting your hands against his chest to give yourself more leverage to bounce up and down his cock. Aemond howled to the feeling of the blades lacerating his back. You cried out as he thrusted up into you at a relentless place, hitting your g-spot with every thrust, making you bite down on your lip to keep from screaming. He could feel your walls pulsing, begging to squeeze his cock as you hit your ultimate high, pulling his own orgasm along with him.

You whined, looking at him with a predatory look in your eyes, roughly pressing your lips against his to stifle the moans. He held your body close to his as he thrusted into you.

"I'm cumming Aemond–" You moaned against his lips, a white hot burning sensation flashing through every nerve in your body, making you cum right then and there. Your walls clenched around him, covering his cock with your fluid while he shoots ribbons of his hot seed inside you.

"I'm marrying her!" The one-eyed prince yelled, slamming his hand on the table. "I will fucking marrying her, and none of you can stop me! You can let me marry her and we'll live here, or I am taking her, and my dragon, to Essos, where we can live happily ever after, and you all can fuck yourselves with this war, and the Iron Throne!"

"You really want to marry that freak?" King Aegon frowned.

Aemond grabbed a hold on his sword and looked at his brother, with his scaring and darkened gaze;

"Raise your tongue to talk about my betrothed again and you shall discover why they call me kinslayer, brother." Aemond threatened, and Alicent quickly placed herself between her children.

"Stop! Aemond, all I'm asking is for you to reconsider–"

"I don't want to reconsider anything! I'm warning you, mother. I own the biggest weapon in the entire kingdom, and without Vhagar you know you are going to lose the war." The whole council stared at the prince like he was crazy, going against his rules, his family and his beliefs, all for a woman there was supposed to be nothing but his servent.

Queen Alicent accepted her son's conditions, and, eventually you married Prince Aemond Targaryen. With your help, the Greens won the war against the Blacks. Rhaenyra had six dragons on her side, but Alicent had a witch.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon

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storiesbyrhi · 3 months

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Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: The promise of snow in the shadow of a falling curtain. 2172 words.

Note: The scenes in this chapter starring Ev were co-written by her IRL counterpart @vintagehellfire.

1986

November came with a cold that promised snow soon. Still, the coven continued to build and grow. While magic shimmered outward, you, Eddie, and Ev spent hours poring over grimoires and speaking with the Witches Who Came Before. If you were going to empower Eddie with some sort of supernatural ability to see the worst in people, the work had to be sound.

Ev was the natural choice to help. She worked close to death and had an affinity for darkness and transformation. It felt so good and right to be practicing witchcraft with a sister again.

“Are we still thinking touch is the best trigger?” Ev posed.

“It has to be,” Eddie answered. “This cannot go wrong. We cannot be wrong.”

You slid off the armchair and kneeled in front of where Eddie was seated on the floor, piles of books and parchment around him. “You will always have the final say. You will always be able to ignore all this.”

So as not to curse Eddie with the sight 24/7, it was decided a charmed object would suffice.

“We could use a necklace?”

“What about one of his rings,” Ev suggested, pointing to the cross ring already adorning Eddie’s hand. “We could let it charge in potion,”

“Under the next full moon,”

“Yes,” Ev nodded at you.

“Okay, so now we need the potion… Black-eyed Susan for justice and gladiolus for moral integrity and a strong sense of character,”

“Horehound for revealing the truth,”

“You have horehound? Where did you get it?” you asked her.

“I cultivated it before we came to America. I’ve had some stashed since then,”

“That’s convenient… Okay, next… Splinted fir tree wood, also for truth, but determination and hope for the future too,” you said.

“I think this may need to be a bit viler. Something more substantial too,”

“I take it you have an idea for that?”

Ev looked from you to Eddie. He grinned as he saw the wicked smile spread across her face.

“Well… In my line of work, I have access to certain things others may not…”

You blinked hard at her. “You mean… dead bodies?”

“Yes,”

“What have you done?” you asked her seriously.

“Nothing a few simple cloaking spells and glamours can’t hide,” Ev said with a casual shrug. She smiled. “If we want this magic to work, we need offerings. I can offer the ground bones of evil men,”

“Of course you can,”

“You’re not judging me, are you?” Ev teased.

“No. Nobody is. But everyone judged me for what I did, but you’ve been skulking around with dead men’s bones and a wolf boyfriend for ages.”

She laughed. “Whatever. The point is, using the bones will call a stronger power. We need to be careful,”

“We will,” Eddie said.

“And we can add our blood. Offering witch blood will prove that our magic walks in the light. That we seek to do good,” you said.

Eddie and Ev nodded.

Next was workshopping the spell.

“By the bones and branches, I call to thee. Reveal the evil that lay beneath?” Ev proposed.

“Oh, okay, I like that. Let me write this down.”

When wordsmithing and potion brewing were done, you stored all the work away. The next full moon was on the sixteenth, so casting would be postponed until then.

You walked Ev back to her house, listening as she told you about how she met her wolf.

“It was organic. The first thing we talked about was music. He loves The Misfits. I love The Misfits. Danzig over Graves. Rollins era Black Flag. Even when we disagreed we agreed. Like about when our Iron Maiden cut-off is,”

“You know, Eddie is really getting into that kind of music. Maybe they would actually get along,”

“Well… Eddie’s mortal enemy was meant to be you, so I guess next in line might be exempt too,”

“Double date?”

Ev laughed. “Double date.”

…

Finding Max Mayfield and healing her had not left your mind since the Halloween party. When you set off on your mission, you left Eddie behind. He didn’t like that you were out beyond the limits of Hawkins alone, but he understood why it had to be that way.

When the sun went down, Eddie walked to Kelsey’s house. She welcomed him in and let him sit while she pottered around, doing things that seemed very sweet and domestic, even if Eddie wasn’t sure what the purpose was.

“Can I ask you something about the coven?”

“Of course,” she answered him.

“However… you cannot tell anyone that I asked.”

Kelsey turned and looked at Eddie. She narrowed her eyes. “Anyone?” Even her?

Eddie nodded. “Anyone,” he repeated. Even you.

…

On the night of November the sixteenth, you, Ev, and Eddie took all you’d need through the woods and out the other side. Upon a small rise, you blended the Black-eyed Susan and gladiolus flowers with horehound and fir in a bowl made from oak. Ev sprinkled in her dead man bone ash.

“Blood,” you said, holding your hand out to Eddie.

Gently, he took it, biting just below your thumb. You felt his tongue swipe over the puncture, tasting you just a little before letting you go. As you let the blood drip into the potion, you glanced up at Ev, her pupils blown.

“Rude not to ask me to join in,” she quipped.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Ev,” Eddie replied just as quick.

“Gross. Stop it. Both of you… Eddie, give me your ring.”

You dropped Eddie’s ring into the bowl and nodded to them. Standing in a circle, holding hands, you all recited the spell. Eddie knew that his contribution to the incantation may not add any magical strength, he felt that it was the right thing to do.

“From Veritas, from Aletheia,

To Themis and her scale.

By bones and branches,

Reveal evil, let light prevail.

Under full moon,

By blood of coven,

Give this immortal power,

To morality govern.”

The wind picked up, the cold seeping in. You dropped hands and watched as the potion began to move, almost like it was alive. A bowl of sentient sludge. Writhing eels.

“What now?” Eddie asked.

“We leave it here. In the morning, the bowl will be empty save for the ring. It will be charmed, and you will have the sight,” you answered. You looked to Ev, she nodded.

“May I escort you ladies back home then, before the cold kills you?”

You let Eddie hook an arm through yours.

Ev hesitated. “I’ve actually got some other plans… I’ll see you tomorrow…”

“Plans on a full moon?” you teased.

Ev pulled a face and set off back into the woods in the direction opposite to the coven.

When you and Eddie got home, you disappeared into the apothecary. After making you tea and lighting the candles that helped you sleep, Eddie came searching for you.

“What more is there to do on this night?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

You turned to him. You loved him all of the time. You loved him when his eyes were wild and his lips stained with blood. You loved him when he was charming and wooing your coven sisters. You loved him when he was washing dishes and engaged in his on-going battle with figuring out the right settings on the iron. But like that, sweatpants low on his hips, scars and history on display… Hair with knotted curls and messy bangs… Doe eyes and gentle movements… You loved him most.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” he whispered back, opening his arms in invitation.

You took a jar, the object of your search, and went to him. He held you safe while you explained.

“We never finished the spell. Your spell.”

Eddie thought back to the black hellebore and apple. How the night had melted into adoration and sex. How, come morning, Forest Hills Trailer Park suddenly didn’t seem like the type of place to cast a spell about the future. You had both decided to save it for when it felt right.

Eddie held the jar of powder and, with a blanket wrapped around you, you followed him outside. Sitting side by side on the front steps of the house grown with love and magic, you said nothing.

The night was quiet and bright, the moon gloriously round and high. Hawkins was peaceful and the coven were dreaming of new beginnings.

Eddie twisted the lid off the jar and poured half the dust into his palm. He closed his fist around it. He looked as if he were making a wish. It was a brief moment, then he uncurled his fingers and blew the dust into the fall air.

“Your turn.”

He tipped the rest of the dust into your hand and you copied what he had done. You watched the dust swirl in the breeze, twinkling with an unnatural glint.

“Thank you for the spell,” you said, your sentence punctuated with a yawn.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

…

Three things happened at the same time that night, on the eve of December. Max Mayfield returned to Hawkins, healed and full of questions for her friends. She vaguely remembered a visitor. Vaguely remembered a miracle. Vaguely remembered threatening her mother if she didn’t let her return to the small shitty town. She was different. Made both stronger and softer by what she’d been through. There was something else too, something not even Lucas could put his finger on.

It would take years for the magic to bloom in Max. When it did, your coven would be waiting.

A far more somber event was taking place just down the way from you. Steve Harrington’s ghost had begun to fade. Mel noticed it before he did. He was hardly there at all now. “This is a good thing,” she told him, but her sad eyes made him ache.

“I don’t want to go,”

“You’re meant to. There is more out there for you now,”

“But what about you?” he asked. Death had not changed Steve. He thought of others first.

She couldn’t put it into words. The feeling of being loved by Steve. The feeling of a soul ignoring death and instead, letting themselves be pulled to her.

As Steve moved on, a definitive moment, Mel crawled into bed and cried. She’d let herself grieve and she’d do it alone. Of course, you would notice her sorrow. You’d find her in the darkness and pull her back to the light of the coven. But not then. Not on that cold night.

In your house, you tried to distract yourself from Eddie’s absence by reading, then spell writing, and finally – television. MTV had a feature of new films being released soon. You made note of The Lost Boys, deciding it would be good for a cinema date night. Eventually, you retired to bed and waited up for Eddie. He’d be home from Chicago soon.

Eddie could smell it on them. Hear it in the spitting syllables of their words. And now, graced with his charmed ring, he could see their sins too.

One touch and he saw the entire span of human guilt. Not keeping off the grass. Gum stuck under desks. Fake IDs. White lies about going to the post office but actually going to eat a cheeseburger in peace. Unpaid fines, unreturned library books. A little weed in the back pocket. Teenage pranks, stolen stop signs, the accidents they caused. Running red lights. Running away from a crime scene. Running away from everything.

It was almost sweet, Eddie thought, what made some people feel shame.

Almost.

Unlicensed firearms. Running cons on elderly people. Animal cruelty. Methamphetamine cooking in a back shed. Dosages of medication that were not what the doctor prescribed. Setting fires. Hidden disks of child exploitation material. Manifestos by white men who knew how to build a bomb. Battery. Trafficking. Home invasion. Aggravated assault occasioning bodily harm. Sexual assault. Assault resulting in death.

It was easier than ever finding someone to drain. Eddie followed him out of a bar and towards the L. In a blur nobody would remember, the man was pulled into the darkness. As it happened, as the shock turned to paralysing fear, your skin broke out in goosebumps. All the way in Hawkins, you watched the hairs on your arms stand up straight.

Eddie’s teeth punctured skin and you yelped, a stab of pain coming from somewhere in you. Doubling over, you fought to breathe.

The man was tense, then limp, then dead.

Forcing deep gulps of air in, then out, you were more worried when the pain suddenly dissolved. Slowly, you got to your feet and blinked tears from your eyes.

If Eddie had felt your suffering, he’d mistaken it as the man’s.

Max’s homecoming, Steve’s final goodbye, and Eddie’s justice balanced by the price you’d always pay. Events that were determined long ago. Fated to coincidence. And would echo through time forever more.

End note: Shout out to @neonghostlights for helping to brainstorm types of sins.

THIS IS THE PENULTIMATE CHAPTER. Yep. Only one more chapter after this and it is not quite finished. So, any last requests or ideas need to be sent to me ASAP if you wanna find yourself in the story.

The Grimoire and timeline are updated. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, especially now in the final hour.

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revehae · 8 months

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lust and war

pairing ↠ werewolf!jennie x (f) reader x vampire!lisa

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, light dubcon, mentions of blood, biting, vampire!lisa, g!p jennie, werewolf!jennie

summary ↠ for two people that hate each other, lisa manoban and jennie kim have very similar interests. you don't understand the rivalry between the two girls, not until they lock eyes on you and compete for your attention.

wc ↠ 5.0k

a/n ↠ part 5/5 of the legend has it series!

don't like it, don't read.

jennie thought lisa was the spawn of satan.

lisa thought jennie was the wicked witch of the west.

for reasons unbeknownst to you. it was your first day on campus. but you were quickly made uneasy, unable to ignore the whispers of students you brushed past. fresh meat, was what they called you. for lisa and jennie.

you tried your best to put up a front and act as if their whispers didn’t bother you, strutting through the halls with your head held up high, but deep inside you were wondering what the hell that meant - and what in tarnation did it mean for you.

when you walked into class, you deliberately snagged a seat at the back of the room. it was obscure, which was perfect. no need to draw any more attention to yourself than there already was.

then the unimaginable happened - one of the girls (you couldn’t tell them apart from each other yet) walked inside and sashayed right to the end of the room, stealing the seat squarely beside yours. you were in disbelief.

she surveyed you with unfamiliarity, looking you up and down. “fresh meat?”

“um, yeah,” you replied tamely, flitting your attention to the textbook on your desk or otherwise you would drown under her hooded stare like an anchor in water. you preferred to play it cool, because you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she was getting to you.

in spite of how withdrawn you were, the girl introduced herself with a beaming smile, “jennie kim. what’s your name, darling?”

your heart fluttered a little at the petname. coming from someone as beautiful and sweet-sounding as her, it was very welcome and made you giggle. but it also gave you a hunch on what this whole thing was about. still, you gave her your name.

jennie repeated your name in a flirtatious purr that had your attention, but you ignored it for your own sake. she added, “that’s pretty. since you’re obviously a newbie, i wanna give you a rundown about the people here - the professors, the student body, every asshole you’re gonna meet here. i’d hate for a cute thing like you to fall into the crowd.”

for the first time, you genuinely looked into jennie’s hypnotizing eyes, and felt as if you were being put under a spell. a part of you later worried that you might have actually been, because you gave in and let jennie give you the gossip. she told you everything; from the habits of the professors to the red flags of every jock to the personalities of the cheerleaders. you appreciated the heads-up and found it to be generally informative.

then, she told you about lisa. that she was a snake that would stab you in the back the first chance she got and she was someone to be avoided at all costs. given her tone of voice and choice of words, it couldn't've been any more obvious that her beef with lisa was personal, but you didn’t dare voice your realization and accepted her words with a gracious nod.

“you know,” she started not too much later. “one of my friends are throwing a party friday night and since i think you would be a nice addition to my crowd, you’re invited as my plus one. i bet they’d like you.”

the feeling of her fingers on your shoulder nearly made you shudder and your breath got caught in your throat. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she repeated, smiling at you, and reduced her voice to a sultry whisper. “are you down?”

you bit your lip in hesitation, mulling over the offer. everything about jennie kim screamed trouble, but she was too alluring for you to give a damn. the textbook definition of temptation. needless to say, you would be going. “yeah,” you replied with a nod, because she had won you over. “i’m down.”

“good,” jennie chirped, pleased. “give me your number and i’ll text you the deets.”

you did as told, but with one thought racing through your brain. what am i getting myself into?

on the night of the party, lisa and her friends were gathered around the couch. jennie’s friend, jisoo, was also her friend, because jisoo was everybody’s friend. so essentially everyone was invited and few people were very off-limits. perks of being sweet and popular.

“streets are saying lisa and her girlfriend have fresh meat,” announced ryujin, parading over to the couch and taking a seat beside lisa, who shot her a glare that said more than words alone could convey.

ten sneered, “let’s see how long this one lasts.”

“oh, please, ten. what ever happened to goldilocks?” lisa retorted.

at the mention of said golidlocks, ten was grinning from ear to ear, and replied blithely, “i think you mean johnny. and for your information, he’s a brunet now. he’s over there.”

the four glanced over to where ten had pointed, mixed reactions settling in on the couch as they watched the brunet, formly known as goldilocks, chat up somebody else. it went without saying that lisa had constructed a friend group of players, but the amusing part about ten and his latest conquest was that he seemed to be getting beat at his own game. lisa shook her head in disapproval. and maybe a smidge of disappointment.

“shame,” lisa muttered under her breath. “i liked him better blonde.”

ten rolled his eyes.

seulgi squinted. “hey, lisa. don’t look now, but i think your new plaything just got here.”

ever the disobedient soul, lisa glanced into the crowd until her eyes eventually fell on you. then, she broke into a wide smile. just as ten had his latest conquest, you would be hers. she was deeply determined and built on resolve.

“ooh, is that a smile i see?” rosé teased, materializing out of thin air with a lighter and a bag of marijuana, which her group of friends on the couch immediately began to reach for.

lisa explained, “me and that feral bitch are tied. and before any says anything - because i know you motherfuckers will - yes, again. i have to win her to break the tie.”

as her eyes continued to follow you, her lips tugged into a downward frown when she noticed you fall into jennie’s company. “fleabag,” she grumbled under his breath.

“and it’s gone.” rosé shook her head, disappointed, and not surprised. and also somewhat entertained while she followed her friend’s gaze.

“i said don’t look now,” seulgi muttered.

ryujin took a drag, blowing out a shroud of smoke, then asked, “uh oh, what happened now?”

“jennie got to her first,” lisa huffed, crossing her arms. “i’m assuming that’s how she got the invite. but no worries, that just means puppy girl’s done half of the job for me.”

from across the room, you could feel eyes on you, but you figured it was because of the attention drawn to you that came with being an affiliate of the likes of jennie kim. that, or you were paranoid.

maybe it was a distasteful combination of both.

“you look cute,” complimented jennie, beaming at you with rays even sunshine couldn’t match.

you had to admit, she was good-looking too. good-looking was an understatement, but from her perfect smile to her stylish selection of clothes, you were rendered speechless when you looked at her. she was like the epitome of beauty, or maybe a goddess. something supernatural, if you believed in the supernatural.

“thanks,” you chirped.

jennie’s smile never left her lips, but she arched a brow, brushing her fingers against your bare arm. “aren’t you going to tell me i’m cute, too?”

cute didn’t do her justice. you sucked in a breath and said, “you don’t need me to tell you that. everybody’s looking at you.”

“no, honey, they’re looking at you,” jennie told you, as if she knew it for a fact. which singlehandedly confirmed that you weren’t crazy and people were definitely watching you.

the next second, one of jennie’s friends swept in and declared she needed to tell her something, and jennie uttered something to you about not getting lost before she was pulled into oblivion.

you glanced around, as if you were looking for someone, but there was no point considering you certainly didn’t know anybody in the area. you went to the kitchen to grab a drink to down for some liquid courage and decided to maneuver around the place.

outside was a better place for you. the air was less stuffy but nobody was afraid to bring the party outside, which meant you weren’t missing anything. you saw a group of students flock around some dude attempting to do a keg stand and shook your head, observing from afar.

then, you noticed a presence beside you as if the person had emerged from a shadow itself, and felt all the blood in your body rush for whatever reason.

lisa snapped her head at you, asking, “jennie leave you to fend for yourself in the wild?” sounds like something that dog would do.

“um, yeah,” you stammered out. “lisa, right?”

“that’s my name,” lisa chirped, flashing you a full set of teeth. jesus, these girls were pretty as hell. way too pretty to hate each other. “you can say it as much as you’d like.”

you introduced yourself to lisa, and as if she hadn’t already known, she acted oblivious and complimented you much like jennie had. you guessed flattery was how these girls worked their way into people’s pants.

lisa, in her endeavor to make small talk, asked, “how’s the party? you don’t look like you’re feeling it.”

“not my idea of a fun night out, but it looks fun. probably would be if i knew somebody out here,” you mumbled under your breath.

“such a shame she left you all alone,” lisa told you, wedging just a bit closer. which you neglected to realize. “you’ve been drinking, too. it’s unsafe to wander by yourself.”

you wrapped your arms around your frame, feeling a little nip in the air. “i’m not by myself - anymore.”

lisa chuckled. “no, i guess not. good thing i’m here.” her eyes fell to your bare arms. “you know, if you’re cold, we can go inside. i know somewhere if you wanna get away from the crowd.”

given how borderline freezing it was outside, that proposal sounded like heaven to you. “but what about jennie?”

it took everything for lisa not to roll her eyes. “oh, please. the party will be over by the time she finishes talking to all of her friends. i’d never abandon you like that.”

well, to be honest, you did feel somewhat abandoned. and she never exactly gave you an estimate of what time she would be back. or if she would be coming back, for that matter. you were trying to clear your head anyways, preferably somewhere warm. you ultimately caved, replying, “okay, fine. let’s go.”

lisa burst into smiles, grabbing your hand and leading you indoors with the excuse of needing to keep you close so that you didn’t get lost. you didn’t mind it, although you were a little nervous to be holding hands with a girl this gorgeous, so your biggest worry was your hands sweating.

though lisa greeted a couple of people on her way upstairs, she didn’t spare them much longer than a second, fully bent on taking you up for whatever reason. it made you think. why would jennie invite you to a party in unfamiliar territory just to leave you by yourself?

there was a room on the right side of the hall and lisa opened the door for you, politely letting you enter first and closing the door behind herself when she came in after you. scanning the bedroom, your eyes wandered over the decorated walls and cute patterns. it was pretty cozy to be a guest bedroom.

“so,” lisa started, plopping down on the bed. when she beckoned you over with her finger, you didn’t hesitate to obey, sitting beside her. “what do you like to do? since you’re clearly not a party person.”

“i, uh, like to paint,” you admitted quietly, as if you were embarrassed.

lisa’s eyes widened. “really? i love painting. matter of fact, i have some paint in here,” she said, standing to walking over to a desk rooted near a shelf. “jisoo, the host, lets me crash here sometimes. so some of my things are in here.”

that explained why it looked fairly lived-in. not dirty or anything of the like, but there was a difference between hotel-esque rooms and ones where you could feel the life in them. there was a lot of vampire art on the walls, pictures of them sucking the blood out of random girls, which you didn’t pay any mind to. it wasn’t as if they were real.

when you glanced back up, lisa was bent over, looking for something inside a drawer. you swallowed and glanced down, looking at your feet. it was inappropriate to stare and you didn’t want to come off as a creep, even if she did look spectacular in that skirt.

“here it is,” lisa said, pulling out a set of red paint and a couple of brushes. “sorry, i only have one color here. i like to do realistic body paints.”

“that’s cool,” you chirped, intrigued by the fact that you shared a mutual interest. “you paint on people?”

lisa was sporting a huge smile, walking over to you with her things in tow. “i love it. it’s so fun. i could try it on you, if you want.”

from the look on her face, you could tell she was mainly asking because she wanted to, and with that coaxing smile she wore, there was no way that you could turn her down. you threw your hands up. “sure. why the hell not?”

lisa’s smile got wider, much more than you thought possible. you were a sucker for pretty girls with equally pretty smiles. “yay,” she cheered, throwing her stuff on the bed, “i have the perfect idea in mind for you.”

brows furrowing, you asked, “shouldn’t you grab like a towel to work over in case things get messy?”

“the messier, the better,” was all lisa said, not sparing you a glance while she picked out a brush from her selection. “do you mind lying down? i prefer working… over people.”

you swallowed the dry lump in your throat. “um, okay.”

lisa was still cheesing, though it looked a bit cheekier now.

sprawled out on the mattress, you shifted a little, trying to find an adequate position. the bed was plenty comfy, at least. you might’ve fallen asleep while she worked on you. “is this okay?”

“it’s perfect, babe,” lisa replied in a heartbeat, setting the paint to the side and grabbing brush just before straddling you.

being so close to lisa, your body flush to hers, made you feel a little hot. outside, inside - everywhere. you couldn’t even breathe. you instinctively grabbed her hips, internally swearing to yourself for doing so, but lisa didn’t really seem to mind, merely chuckling as she damped the brush in the paint and went for your neck.

though you tried to stay stiff, aware that sudden movements could lead her to make a mistake, it was unfathomably difficult. she was on top of you, for fuck’s sake. given that so much of her skin was revealed, you could feel it on yours.

distract, you thought when you felt a wetness creep between your legs. your eyes locked on one of the paintings behind lisa, hoisted on the wall. the one of the girl getting bitten by a vampire. it was eerily beautiful, and you’d already made note of her fascination for bloody art.

“you make such a beautiful model,” lisa whispered when she was done with your neck. you thought she was finished in general, but you were quickly proven wrong when she said, “can i take this off? i wouldn’t want to ruin your top. it’s so cute.”

when you realized that she was asking if she could take off your shirt, a couple of cells in your brain immediately fried. you weren’t wearing anything underneath either, which wasn’t too difficult to see, but lisa didn’t seem bothered.

too scared of how you’d sound if you spoke, you merely bobbed your head.

lisa didn’t waste a second to tug at the strings at the front of your crop top, watching it unravel before her eyes as your tits came into vision. your cheeks burned and you placed your palms over your bare chest, bashful, but lisa grabbed your wrists and set your hands back at her hips. “you’ve got nothing i haven’t seen before, baby,” she purred in your ear.

the throbbing between your thighs intensified. your mouth was so dry that you couldn’t even speak.

your breath got caught in your throat every time you accidentally made eye contact, her gaze flickering up to meet yours every now and then. the feeling of the brush tickling your neck made you shudder a little, much to lisa’s amusement.

she couldn’t help but chuckle. you were so, so naive. to be frank, she didn’t think that that blood cover-up would be buyable, but you genuinely believed that it was just red paint. as if there weren’t other colors featured in her paintings.

it was almost endearing how gullible you were. your neck was covered in blood - her blood - and the longer she spent looking at the fake bite on your throat, smelling her own scent on you, it became increasingly more difficult to resist her natural urges.

you shrieked out when all of the sudden you felt something protrude into your throat and instinctively recoiled, reaching out to push her off of you. lisa pushed you back against the mattress, making your eyes widen in sheer panic, and had the door not swung open when it did you would have been in deeper shit.

there jennie stood, arms folded, the most reproachful glower on her face. “you just really couldn’t help yourself, could you, lisa?”

lisa leaned back, groaning in annoyance. “why are you here, jennie?”

you sat up, backing away.

“because you stole my date,” jennie retorted, shutting the door behind herself.

“can’t steal what you abandoned. she was free for the taking,” lisa shot back.

“and,” jennie added, ignoring that quip. “i could smell your blood.”

that made you freeze. her blood? you glanced down at your body, covering your chest again when you remembered you were exposed, and whispered to lisa, “you said it was paint.”

“you sweet, naive thing,” lisa said, her voice wavering as the scent of your blood overwhelmed her. all she wanted was to feed on you a little.

it was all starting to click, the paintings on the wall and the lack of other paint colors she claimed to not have owned. you wondered why you didn’t smell the blood, but she must have had a cunning trick for that too.

vampires are real, you thought to yourself. you brought your fingers to your neck, glancing down at them to spot your own blood. the wound on your skin proved it. as did the way lisa visibly tensed with hunger when she sensed your blood on your fingertips.

you glanced at jennie, asking, “what are you?”

jennie said nothing, just opening her mouth to bear her sharp teeth and lifting her hand to summon claws out of her fingers. you jolted back, somewhat frightened, but enticed nonetheless. the fever between your legs was a testament to that.

“werewolves,” jennie exhaled contentedly, stepping towards you. “the natural enemy of vampires.”

“you wanna know why?” lisa asked, leaning into your ear. you sucked in a breath when you felt her so close to you. “because we compete for the same source.”

“me,” you whispered in realization. “you’re competing for me.”

“ding, ding, ding,” lisa sang.

jennie was standing in front of you, a slight flush to her face. “i can smell how wet you are.”

you didn’t really know how to respond to that, shutting your legs as if it would help.

“you can?” lisa asked, a little envious.

“all you can smell is blood,” jennie quipped before turning back to you, much to lisa’s annoyance. “but i can smell everything about you and it’s so overwhelming. your scent, your arousal, your…”

you gasped when she ripped your shorts off of your body and quickly moved onto your underwear, leaving you entirely naked. “jennie,” you rasped.

jennie didn’t stop to listen, because the next thing you knew, her mouth was on your cunt, sucking and licking at your clit. you fisted the sheets in your hands, throwing your head back, which gave lisa perfect access to your exposed neck and you moaned when she attacked again.

you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel good to be bitten. not to mention you were somewhat aroused by the idea of fucking vampires and werewolves. there was a weird fascination and you couldn’t help but be turned on.

once lisa had her fill, she drew back to give you and jennie a quick scan, grinning slyly at the look of pleasure on your face and jennie’s need while she desperately grinded into the side of the bed as she ate you out. lisa mocked, “just couldn’t help yourself, could you, jennie?”

“shut up, leech,” jennie hissed. you frowned at the loss of contact when she stood, but your attention was caught when you glanced down at her hard-on.

“whatever you say, puppy.”

ignoring lisa for the second time, jennie cast her eyes at you, her lips puckered into a pout. she almost looked like she was going to cry because of how tight her cock felt in her jeans. “can i?”

you bobbed your head, swallowing to damp your throat. “please.”

“i have to warn you - i’m a handful.”

“i don’t care,” you replied, impatient. “i can take it.”

for the briefest of seconds, you swore lisa and jennie made eye contact with each other, before lisa was forcing you into a mating press and jennie was stuffing you full of her cock, unable to wait any longer. you gasped, not expecting it so soon, but jennie didn’t pause and she was quick to bury herself to the hilt.

it was a good thing that you were already extremely wet, having already been aroused coupled with the fact that jennie was eating you out a moment ago, but it didn’t make the stretch feel any less insane. you had no clue that she was this big, it almost looked painful, and there was a hazy stare in her hooded eyes.

you reached for her, whispering, “jen-”

“no,” lisa said, smacking your hand away. “you asked for this. you said you could take it, remember? now take it.”

jennie gave you all of two seconds to adjust before she was pounding you out, your thighs trapped beneath hers and giving you no room to escape if you were suddenly inclined to writhe and squirm. when your walls clenched around her dick, she let out a borderline animalistic howl, quickly slapping her hips into yours.

lisa was mainly content with just watching, like there was something enjoyable about watching you getting fucked into oblivion by something barely human. you cried out when she pinched your nipples between her fingers, solely to watch your face contort in a blend of pleasure and pain.

you had all but forgotten the bites on your neck, the blood staining your skin, because jennie fucking you like you were some toy and not another living being was all that your minded dare to consider. she was so erratic, like a needy virgin. like a puppy, you considered, reminded of the nickname lisa had bestowed upon jennie, but you would never say that aloud.

jennie had started to ramble, her voice so close to your ear, “you have the prettiest, wettest pussy i’ve ever seen. i should get you all to myself on a full moon. god, i’ll break you.”

“break me,” you purred, smiling at her enticingly.

“be careful what you wish for,” she growled.

the bed felt like it was going to fall apart. you felt like you were going to fall apart, but you loved every second of it. you were thankful that the party was downstairs and much of the blaring music would cancel out the sounds of the bed thudding against the floor with the rhythm of your bodies.

in the corner of your eyes, you saw lisa slide a hand under her skirt to touch herself, getting off to the wonderful sight before her. you wished that she would take it off, just so that you could see her cunt glisten in the light.

like she could read your mind (frankly you were beginning to fear that she could), lisa stepped out of her skirt and underwear, the same underwear you’d seen when she was bending over. the same underwear you’d felt when she was straddling your crotch, most likely to get some kind of reaction out of you. you badly wanted to fuck her, but that would have to be saved for another time.

you glanced at jennie, quickly falling for the feeling of her weight flush against your chest and the sound of her desperate little howls as she used you, but lisa grabbed your jaw and forced your attention back on her. “no,” she said. “keep your perv eyes on me.”

that was rich. you scoffed, “i’m a pervert?”

“upon many things,” lisa chirped. “what, you think i didn’t feel you staring at my underwear when i grabbing the paint-”

“the blood,” you corrected. “that you tricked me into thinking was paint because you wanted to claw your fangs in my neck. how perverse.”

lisa chuckled, spreading her legs a little to give you a perfect view of her cunt. “what can i say? all’s fair in lust and war.”

“both of you are perverts,” jennie butted in, though realizing her breathy voice didn’t made her look any better, added, “we all are. that’s what makes it fun.”

“amen to that,” lisa replied, shoving two fingers inside of her pussy and you tightened at the thought of them being yours.

this was not how you were expecting your night to go. you didn’t come to this party expecting to get railed by a werewolf and bitten by a vampire. you had no idea how you were going to explain the literal holes in your neck, too small to be of an insect. but you would let her do it again. god, did it feel good for whatever reason.

jennie trailed her fingers down your chest, not slowing down, and if anything she was more sporadic than before. she just kept moaning and crying out, her sounds pitching higher and higher, like she genuinely intended for them to reach the moon.

there was a part of you that wondered if this would be the last time, if you would get another chance. it didn’t take a genius to put together that lisa and jennie literally only competed for bragging rights, to have a higher number than the other. you wondered if that’s all you would be after tonight - a number. they were going to move on and find other girls to make themselves feel superior.

jesus christ, you really wished you would have known that you were inserting yourself into a body count contest. not that it really would have changed much.

none of it especially changed that you were on the brink of climax, trying to writhe, but jennie had you so glued to one place that it was nearly impossible. you were slumped under her weight.

“jennie, i can’t…,” you trailed off, losing your voice.

“just a little bit more,” she replied breathlessly.

even lisa’s fingers were moving quicker now, thrusting in and out of her tight pussy. the room started to feel hot and you almost felt dizzy, like you could have passed out any moment now.

the breaking point for you was lisa calling out your name as she neared climax, her voice seductive and airy, alluring like the true nature of a vampire. you couldn’t help yourself when you came, shuddered under jennie, whines spilling from your mouth but you dared not to say any of their names.

no one person had got you there.

moments passed before you were in your right mind again, having blacked out from your orgasm for only god knew how long. jennie was still inside you and the overstimulation was driving you mad, but she wouldn’t back off, not until she was completely done with you.

it was just so much. you didn’t know how to handle all of it. your body was exhausted and you could barely feel your limbs.

“cumming,” jennie hissed. “fuck, i’m cumming. i’m…”

you didn’t really hear anything after that because the second you felt her load filling you to the brim, everything else became white noise to you. it was warm and made you feel fuzzy, almost like a second orgasm. you whimpered when she pulled out, leaving her release to drip out of you, but you couldn’t even move. you were slumped, rooted to the bed.

“too much?” jennie asked, backing away from the bed. “i tried to warn you.”

“she asked for it. it would be a shame if she couldn’t take what she was asking for,” lisa added, hovering over you.

your eyes flickered. “i’m fine. i just, uh, need a moment.”

lisa was naked, much to your excitement. “let us know when you’re ready. i wanna ride your pretty face.”

jennie was between your legs, to your shock, about to lick her own release out of your cunt.

there was a challenge here, even if you didn’t see it. even if it only existed between lisa and jennie. all’s fair in lust and war, as a wise person had once told you.

#tw: dubcon #jennie smut #lisa manoban smut #lisa smut #blackpink smut #girl group smut #gxg smut #revehae fics

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merp-blerp · 6 months

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EVEN MORE Things about Cinderella's Castle I'm excited about already as a big Cinderella fan

Part One, Part Two (This), Part Three

I did this once, guess I'm excited enough to do it again!

The songs sound wonderful! Can't wait to hear what they sound like with the cast and I can't wait to see what Lauren does with the choreo! NPMD blew me away and I can't wait to see how this show will kill me. "Cursed Crazy", "Step On Your Grave", "Ash To Ash", and "Ever After" are my favorite demos so far.

I think it's so cool that "Step On Your Grave" is such an angry song. I know it takes place while Ella's cooking her step-family dinner, but it would be really interesting if a reprise took place after Ella learns she can't go to the ball (that is if the story works the same way as usual). Normally, if Cinderella gets a song during this moment, it's very mournful, like say "In My Own Little Corner (Reprise)" from 1997 Cinderella. And that's great! But giving Ella a song like that, but with a "No Good Deed" from Wicked vibe would be so original and new as far as I'm aware! Cinderella has every right to be sad at her abusive situation, but also every right to be angry! Imagine she wants to follow them to the ball not to have a good night like usual but to kill her step-family on the way or at the ball somehow. Whether a rendition of "Step On Your Grave" is at a moment like this in the show or not, Ella deserves a song like that I think and I'm glad she's got one.

"Step On Your Grave" has a lot of allusions to Ella once being a princess in the making before the step-family or something came along, and Ella mentions her father having a sword, so I wonder if the Ashmores are fallen royalty or had royal tie-ins of some kind. Like maybe Ella was arranged to wed a prince or something.

"Ever After" has some elements of grief and that's so special I think. Cinderella often loses someone or something under her step-family, like her family or her former life, but the grief aspect isn't brought up too much very often in adaptations, the most significant time I can think of it being brought up is in 1997 Cinderella. It'd be nice to include that element in this show. I can't help but wonder if Ella's father's death was accidental in this show. "Ever After" kind of reminds me a bit of "Cool As I Think I Am" from NPMD sound-wise; some smart musical person should mash them up once "Ever After" is released. Ella also might be kinda regicidal in this song too, so... POOR GIRL'S JUST SO CONTEMPLATIVE!

I genuinely doubt "Trappings of Starlight" has much to do with the Starlight Theather from Hatchetfield, but to add to that craziness, the "Uh-oh-oh-oh," reminds me of the vocalizing from "Axe Man" from NT2. And "Should we shun her?" in "Castle On A Hill" reminds me of "Should we kill him?" in "The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals". I don't think it means anything though. It seems pretty clear that The Lands That Are and Hatchetfield aren't going to have much overlap.

"Ash To Ash" seemingly referencing Ella's mom! I get this feeling that Ella's mom was a witch or enchantress of some kind and that's why she was burned. And it sounds like the Fairy Queen and Ella are maybe plotting revenge on someone or a system, maybe? And I wonder what QF means by saying Ella is "Terrible as I". Maybe she means terrible as in great or fearsome, like, say, "Oz the great and terrible" or something. And the lyric, "I shall wrap thee in these cinders, Ell" makes me wonder if her dress will be made with starlight + the cinders on her body—what a wicked idea! I love how far the Langs took the whole cinders and ash thing. With Ella's surname being Ashmore and this being a duet with the Fairy Queen, I'm very curious about the title and if there's a double meaning; are Ella and the Fairy Queen related in some way? This retelling will be so good!

In the subtitles for "Ash To Ash" in the 4/13 livestream, I assumed "Q+C" was supposed to be "Queen (Fairy) + Cinderella", but listening to the song a second time, it sounds like C's lines overlap Ella's very slightly, which would make it hard for one person (Bryce) to sing alone. So C is likely not Ella in that song. Maybe it's Crumb? Some in the chat said it probably just meant chorus, so we'll see eventually.

All the little motifs that exist already! Like "Will it Ever After Happily?" in "Castle On A Hill" and "Ever After". Or the talk of Ella painting in both "Ever After" and "Last For Ever". "Ever After" has so many! AAAHHH!

The Lyrics in "Castle On A Hill" being "A queen and her vanity, a beast and his agony" have me Thinking™. Are the prince's parents Beauty and the Beast? Is the prince a beast? And there's also the Excalibur callback??? Since Nick said there would be no other fairytales involved in this story, it might just be more of a reference than literal, but it's still cool.

The lyrics to "Cursed Crazy" make me wonder if the citizens blame Ella for the Ashmore family's demise for some reason. The idea of Cinderella not even being able to find potential solace in the townsfolk is so sad! There's so much to think about!

Dying to know what "'Cause my love will be fierce, and your love will be missed," in "Trappings Of Starlight" will mean. It's such an intriguing line. As well as who is the character singing the song. We seemingly don't know who they are yet.

Seraphim Fairy Queen is such a cool idea, especially with all the talk of God(s) or a god in "Ash To Ash"! No pressure on the Langs, but it'd be so cool for them to be able to go through with that design concept, even if it's through minimal tactics. I can't wait to see who this Fairy Queen is. Is she the prince's mom??? A Sleeping Beauty-type character we could follow in a future show??? Ella's mom??? Ella's girlfriend??? This will be so cool!

There are more characters that we haven't been introduced to yet! We can still get Ella a girlfriend guys! Genuinely excited to see who they are!

The fact that the trolls eat rodents and other smaller creatures has me a bit worried about Sir Hop and Crumb. Maybe Ella was going to cook them for her step-family, but became friends with them instead, protecting them from getting eaten.

Not to get too Crazy, but what if the characters singing with Ella in "Last For Ever" are her parents, resurrected, or never actually dead or something. Probably not, but what if???

I have a feeling I'll be making more lists as we learn more about the show, so if I have any more thoughts I'll try.

#starkid #team starkid #cinderella's castle

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adarkrainbow · 6 months

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Romanian witches: Baba Cloantza

Last time I talked about Muma Padurii, the Forest Mom. And I promised you Baba Cloantza...

The whole idea of the Baba Cloantza is quite fascinating. When I read the article about the Romanian translations of Frau Holle which prompted me to do this series about Romanian witches (I'll talk more about this in the third part of the series), they evoked Baba Cloanta (yes, without the "z") as the traditional wicked witch and child-eating hag of Romanian fairytales. If you do research about Muma Padurii as I did before, you will sometimes find that "Baba Cloanta" can be an alternate name or identity for the Muma, especially in her "creepy wicked witch eating children soup" fairytale self. But if you research Baba Cloanta/Cloantza on her own, most of the time all you'll find is a mention saying "Baba Cloantza is the Romanian name of Baba-Yaga" or "Baba Cloanta is the Romanian equivalent of the famous Russian witch / she is the Carpathian Baba-Yaga".

Now... I do understand why everybody loves Baba Yaga, but I also understand why having Baba Yaga everywhere can be a problem. There is a reasoning behind saying "Baba-Yaga is a character present throughout all Slavic fairytales" and "Baba Yaga is a character of Eastern Europe fairytales"... But this oversimplification can cause a problem when it sweeps under the rug national "cousins" of the Baba Yaga. Again, remember that the Baba Yaga we know today was defined and shaped by Afanassiev's Russian Folktales... It is a specifically Russian character. Yes she does answer to and manifests an archetype present throughout Eastern Europe, and you have several Eastern European manifestations of a local Baba-Yaga... But then you have characters like Baba Cloantza. Who is indeed an equivalent to the Russian Baba Yaga... But she is still her own character, a specific Romanian entity, and saying she is just "Baba Yaga with a different name" can be a quite problematic claim...

So today I invite you to discover Baba Cloantza, a Romanian witch which yes, can be the Romanian translation of "Baba Yaga", but is also an alternate identity of Muma Padurii, as well as her own character with specific roots in Romanian folklore.

For this post I will rely onto an article written in French by Simona Ferent, "Baba Cloantza, la Yaga édentée" (Baba Cloantza, the Toothless Yaga) - it was published as part of a collection of studies and articles around the figure of Baba Yaga for a Sciences and Literature journal (it was called "Baba Yaga en chair et en os", "Baba Yaga in flesh and bone"). I literaly translated the article a long time ago and I do regret doing so because it might have made it quite unreadable... But if you can read French go check it out because it is one of the most complete resources I could find about Baba Cloantza online.

It is also because of this article that I write Baba Cloantza instead of "Cloanta", which Ferent highlighted as a better transliteration of the Romanian Cloanţa.

Baba Cloantza is one of the central witches of Romanian fairytales, and a well-known figure of the Carpathian folklore. But there is already a difference established between her and the Russian Baba-Yaga by her very name. Indeed "Cloantza" means an old woman, an ugly woman... a toothless woman. Hence the name of the article, "the toothless Yaga". Not only does this name evokes as such a toothless hag, it also insists upon her mouth, because "cloantza" is a pejorative name for a mouth. So the Baba Cloantza is a figure associated with the mouth - as much the decrepit toothless hole of an old ugly woman, as the devouring maw of the fairytale monster... and as the mouth from which ancient wisdom and magical secrets comes from. She is the "frightening wisdom", as Ferent says. Because, as a "baba", she is this ambiguous figure between the demon in human shape and the spiritual guide: the baba is the witch and the wise-woman, the isolated and lonely old woman that lives outside of the village, near or into the woods, the one who holds power over love, healing, divination and the weather... As such in fairytales she is the monster to fight and avoid, as much as the magical woman that will help the hero in his fight against a supernatural power, guide a lost traveller, or assist a woman with a tragic love story.

Ferent's article covers a wide range of sources and domains, as a testimony of the Baba Cloantza's huge presence in Romanian culture. The works of Vasile Alecsandri, where she is a prophet, a healer and a demon ; the ones of George Coşbuc where she is a leftover of an ancient Dacian goddess ; the modern, caricatural, buffoon-like depictions of Tudor Arghezi and Gelu Vlaşin ; and finally the great and iconic fairytale collections of Romania, those of Petre Ispirescu and Ion Creange, where the Baba Cloantza is a needed element within the hero's initiation and journey into the world/otherworld...

Given there is a lot of info, I will put this under a cut.

Simona Ferent identifies seven "faces" or seven "aspects" of the figure of the Baba Cloantza.

First, the Cloantza as the "village's oracle". In 1843, Vasile Alecsandri created a poem called "Kraiu-Nou" taking inspiration from the folktales surrounding the Sburător, a night-haunting supernatural entity embodying the "malevolent seduction", a sort of vampire preying upon sleeping women. This works depicts a countryside dominated by the moon - the "Kraiu-Nou" itself corresponds to the first phase of the moon, which is the most effective moment to formulate wishes (especially love wishes). The story describes Zamfira, which is a Romantic incarnation of the "beautiful, virgin, Romanian peasant girl", whi makes her own love wishes to the moon and becomes the prey of the Sburător. In this story, Baba Cloantza appears as a wise-woman who warns the girl of the danger that threatens her. She performs a divination ritual by looking into forty-one grains of corn, and by doing so she tells him she must flee a beautiful stranger with a soft voice (the vampire). [The poem notably opposes the frightful prediction of the baba with the predictions of the "wise men" and elders of the village who said Zamfira would have a happy life] The Cloantza even appears on a sort of mount that later turns out to be the very grave of the vampire... But despite all those warnings, Zamfira follows the eroticism and charms of the mysterious "lover of the shadows", who ends up stealing her life-force... Here Baba Cloantza is still the "old woman at the limit of the village", the physical margin of the community, and her role as an oracle highlights her ambiguity as the one who warns of the danger, but seems to cause it, since her prophecy is self-fulfilling. She is the first to mention the vampire before it appears, and she sits on what seems to be its grave... She tries to scare the girl away from the monster, but the way she describes him makes him appear seducing and conjures up the first fantasies of romance within Zamfira. As such, the baba Cloantza warns the girl of her doom... while throwing her (accidentaly?) in the arms of her killer. (There is also a whole thing to say about how the first crescent of the moon is strongly associated with the manifestation of ghosts and the apparition of malevolent beings ; and how the baba Cloantza embodies here an archetypal fear and archaic warning of sexuality, that the vampire embodies, as the one who preys upon the pure virgin girl...)

Second, the Cloantza as the "healer". In the folk-poem "Burueana de leac" ("the weed that heals"), we have a traditional depiction of the peasant man adressing a prayer/request to the village baba - in this case, we have the story of a man in love in such a desperate way he is ready to curse. The man, overtaken by a desire that strongly looks like a demonic possession (there are motifs of the extinguished sun , and the grave calling for the man), calls for the "mama Ileana", the only one able to "put out the fire" of his heart. The folklorist Alecsdandri explained that "mother Ileana" is another name for the "village baba" - more specifically it is the name of the healer of Romanian villages, who uses both plants and magical words, and bases her craft on the various times of the folk-calendar which mixes Christian celebrations with pagan feasts. This is all the ambiguity of this specific baba. On one side she refers to the Christian religiousness: she uses religious icons, the village's church, she sings in honor of the Virgin Mary or of God... On the other, her rituals are distinctively pagan: she uses flowers and weeds, she carries a supposedly magical water, her incantations are said to be "witchcraft" and she uses wands made of hazel-tree...

Third, the Cloantza as a caricature. The Romanian poets heavily relied on the figure of baba as the "village healer" - Tudor Arghezi depicted in 1948 a baba performing miracles within her village - said to know the spells of love that unite or separate lovers, as well as the remedies for various aches (from tooth-aches to heart-aches). But the portrait he makes of her is a caricature of a witch: she is a hunchback, who heals everybody with "two coal pellets and three lies", and refuses her services to the poor (due to being a greedy woman). This is no mistake that the poet makes "miracle" (minuni) rhyme with "minciuni", "lie". This baba is a scam. If we move to Gelu Vlaşin, we see baba Cloantza as an hallucination, or a psychological projection. The poet is half-drunk half-delirious, he wants to pay prostitutes but is too poor, so he goes looking for the "baba cloantza" so she can cast a "spell of wealth" onto him. And she appears in a middle of a series of very revealing symbols (dwarfs, circuses, prostitutes, spiders), in what the poet ultimately describes as a "fairytale for morons".

Ferent notably studies here a "variation" of the baba Cloantza, called the Baba Hârca. The Baba Hârca is a folktale character, an old witch who lives alone in a cavern within the depths of the woods, because she is afraid of humans, and who typically uses skulls (human or animal) for her magic rituals. "hârca" is a depreciative term for an old woman, an ugly woman or a wicked woman (or all three at once) - but it also means "skull", hence why the witch uses them to perform her spell. In the fairytales collected by Romanian folklorists we see that Baba Cloantza and Baba Hârca often appear as synonymous, in fact the two names can be used alternatively within a same fairytale. And in a Romanian "small-opera" of Romania created in 1848, by Matei Millo and Alexandru Flechtenmacher, it is under this name that the witch appears. "Baba Hârca, a small opera of witchcraft in two acts and three tableaux". Here the Hârca is actually a comical character appearing as a caricature of a gypsy woman, as well as a transvestite role (since the witch is played by Matei Millo himself).

Fourth, the Cloantza as a "ritualistic sorceress". Ferent reminds her reader that most of what we know of the Baba Cloantza has been "degraded" because it went through the literary imagination of a pastoral world disappeared (by authors who sang in a Romantic way the countryside of old), and through the prism of fairytales simplified for children - but she also reminds the reader of how the Romanian folklorists (such as Alecsdandri in his collect of "Cucul si Turturica") tried to identified the older roots of the folk-beliefs and superstitions. For example, in "Cucul si Turturica", the dialogue between the "cucul", the "cuckoo", a mysterious-dangerous bird son of a wicked witch, and the "turturica", the turtledove, the symbol of angelical love, we see a transcription of rural witchcraft. The "baba" preserved throughout the many proverbs of Romanian language is a supernatural entity within the village, a witch tied to the world of the demons. Baba Cloantza is recognized as different from regular human beings, but still accepted within the system of the community - because the witch is the intermediary between the living and the otherworld, and the catalyst of magical rituals. The baba, as the talented healer, "takes the ill upon her" - she is the mouth, as we saw, but the mouth that "sucks up" the evils to expel them in a symbolical way. The ritual is a manifestation of this "devouring" of the bad things, with an insistance on the power within the baba's words. The Cloantza, the "toothless", performs her magical as a ritualistic digestion (at least according to Ferent): she literaly feeds of the fears of the peasants, and uses as a magical "substance" her very words. This is why, while reflecting a distant, archaic form of hedonism and animism, the character of the baba always causes fear and fatalism... Let's return to the dialogue. The cuckoo is a playful, mischievious, jovial spirit who sings his desire and his determination, and will use the not-so-moral means his witch-mother taught him to seduce and have sex with the one he wants. Here, the malevolent influence of the Cloanta in romance becomes the game ; but a game of seduction filled with dangers, as symbolized by the objects the babas use. When a baba must bewitch a young man, she uses the bones of a bat trapped on Christmas Eve and buried alive in an anthill. With these bones, the Cloantza makes a hook to "hook" the heart of the one we want, and a small shovel to keep away those that are unloved.

Most of the powers of the baba seem to be tied to the element of water. The witch uses the water of rivers ; she can control the rain ; she uses holy water to cast spells, or she uses a "virgin water", "untouched water" (a term for enchanted water). Other elements can be used in baba rituals (the hazel-tree wand, the corn grains, the traditional "batic", the scarf around a peasant woman's head), and all they all call forward the society of the countryside, the world of the peasants where any everyday item can be filled with magic. Ferent reminds here of the importance of the communion with nature in the Romanian countryside. The peasant can sing a "doïna", a melancholic song, to his "spirit-brother", which can be a tree, a flower, a bird, an animal or the entire forest. All sorts of magical beings fill the countryside, such as the ielele (the "sirens of the woods") that inhabit hills and mountains. And if a young man is not careful when walking among the plains or choosing his travel-staff... he might get bewitched by the voice of a Cloantza, wandering forever, or snatched away in the sky "like an arrow flying". Only a knife stuck into the ground can break the spell of wandering.... Ferent also heavily insists upon the importance of recitation in spells: the baba always uses the "descântec", a form of invocation whose name means "a word, sung or recited, which can bewitch or break a spell". We have preserved a lot of these incantations, which were created for many various situations - there was a spell to heal snake-bites, there was another for people who feared to be alone... Or rather the fear of the "urât", a term quite difficult to translate, which literaly means "ugly", but explains a form of anguish towards the idea of being abandoned, mixed to a fear of the "other". Ferent proposes the idea of being "alone in a haunted house": that's the urât. To return to Baba Cloantza: she embodies all of the traits that were given to the village witch. Like them, she was here to offer magical solutions and answers to the very real needs and fears of the peasants.

Fifth, the Cloantza as the "shapeshifting female". The baba is also a manifestation of the archetype of the "Dreaded Mother" and the "Witch-Goddess" (or "Dreaded Goddess/Witch Mother ; or Mother Goddess and Dreaded Witch, however you like to arrange things). [Ferent highlights how there's always a multi-faced archetype of the "female", such as how the witch at the same time recalls ancient figures of priestesses or women initiated to the secrets of nature, and mythological characters such as Gaia, Maia, Circe, Demeter, Isis or Lilith]. The baba Cloantza is what happens when the "supreme female principle" becomes uncanny. For example, a recurring element in folk-mythology is that the baba can give birth to extraordinary physical beings. George Cosbuc, in "Atque nos!", reminds how the baba is the mother of a young man who was said to grow "in one year as much as others did in ten". George Cosbuc notably wrote texts celebrating the "magico-religious alchemy" that give birth in Romania to a rich gallery of female mythical beings: the baba Dochia (with probably Dacian origins), the Mama-Noptii (Mother of Night) surrounded by vampire-being, as well as the female Saints Tuesday, Friday, Wednesday and Thursday (described as pagan phantasm born of a Christianization of the deities of the Greco-Roman pantheon that were Mars, Zeus, Venus and Mercury). In fairytales, the baba usually appears as the embodiment of a wild elemental power.

The writer Ion Creangă, in the famous fairytale "Povestea porcului" (The tale of the pig), fragments the "baba" in three steps. First, she is the elderly peasant-woman who, despaired by her own sterility, adopts a pig she raises as a son (and will turn out to be a Prince Charming under a curse). Second, she is the Three Saints (Saint Wednesday, Saint Friday and Saint Sunday), three witches that will guide the heroine in her initiation-journey to find back her husband (the pig/prince she lost by throwing his pig-skin/pig-disguise into the fire). In a third time, the baba is "baba Cloantza the Toothless", the hag that keeps the prince her prisoner with malevolent powers. The pig-prince-hero not only will manage to outwit the Cloantza and find back his beloved, he will also free her from the spell that prevented her from givng birth (a four-year spell!). This story is haunted by the idea of the "cursed procreation", declined in three aspects. 1) the sterility of the old woman 2) the spell that prevents the heroine from giving birth to the child she is pregnant with 3) the idea of giving birth to a demon. When the pregnant heroine travels to the baba Cloantza's domain, she goes through a hellish-landscape filled with dragons and 24-headed otters, but especially in a world ruled by greed, cunning and wickedness. Here the wicked witch is formed as the antithesis of the naive young princess. The fairytale calls baba Cloantza "Hârca" (the name is invoked when the narration insists upon her old age, her crooked mind, and ugliness), but it also gives her the name Talpa Iadului (The Mole of the Devil). And the Mole of the Devil is actually one of the most evil beings of Romanian mythology, because it was believed to be the mother of all the demons, and renowned for its intelligence and treacherous nature. In the end of the fairytale, the Toothless baba/Skull/Mole of the Devil ends up punished by being tied to the tail of a horse - bringing back the comical and extravagant tone that opened the fairytale, and prevents it from falling into too much darkness.

But this structure of the youngest daughter of a king undergoing an initiation journey can be found in many fairytales. Petre Ispirescu, a great fan of Romanian folklore, published in 1676 "Porcul cel Fermecat" (The bewitched pig), a story that his own mother had told him, and that reuses the antithesis of the Baba Cloantza (here, a mother of dragons) with a young women (who discovers against her will the magical powers and the devious tricks of the witch). In this fairytale, the baba embodies a trial of Fate that the heroine must overcome to reach happiness (symbolized by a wedding out of love). The story tells the story of the youngest daughter of a king who, following her two older sisters, enters a room of the castle his father had forbidden her to go into. The princesses discover there an oracle-book which predicts royal weddings for the older sisters, a wedding with a pig for the third. The prophecy will come true and the princess is forced to leave her house to follow a pig, with a human voice so beautiful everybody suspects a spell is at work. The princess comes to love her strange husband, who removes his pig skin every night to become a man, but right as she was getting used to her new life she meets baba Cloantza who tells her she can break the spell by tying up her husband to the bed with a magical rope. Trusting the hag, the young bride uses the rope, but it breaks and her husband disappears - but not without telling her that, had she not obeyed the witch, he would have been set free from his curse in three days. The young wife, her newborn child in her arms, undergoes a quest to find her husband. Throughout hostile lands she obtains the advice and gifts of 1) the Moon and her sisters 2) the mother of the Sun and 3) the mother of the Wind. Arriving at the house of the cursed prince, the girl proves her intelligence and determination by making a ladder out of the magical chicken bones the three supernatural women gave her, and even cuts her own little finger to complete it. When she finds back her husband, he reveals her the full truth, and how his curse was caused by the Cloantza, because he had killed a dragon that was the baba's son. As we can see with all those stories, the idea is the same: to obtain her happy end and eternal bliss, the young woman must journey through a desert that symbolizes a journey outside of the real world ; the strange journey always begins with the girl breaking the law imposed by the father, and each time the baba Cloantza appears as the embodiment of the crime the girl must expiate/the evil she must vanquish.

Petre Ispirescu also depicted the baba Cloantza as the mother of a dragon in another fairytale, where the prince must kill it to free an enslaved princess. In this fairytale called "Poveste Taraneasca", "Peasant tale", the character of the Cloantza lives within a hellish world, with her courtyard surrounded by impaled human heads. In this tale, the Cloantza shows a trait that makes her close to the vodou sorcerers: she gains her strength and her immortality by swallowing, or rather "drinking", spirits that she keeps locked up in a barrel. By extension, we see that in this tale, the main threat of the story are the various vampires that live within her domain, and who try to steal away the soul of the old king.

Sixth, the Cloantza as the "devilish witch". An old proverb of Romania recalled by Alecsandri says "Baba-i calul dracului". Literaly "the Baba is the horse of the devil". Literary: "Old witch, bearer of Satan!". This proverb notably opens a poem of Alescandri called "Baba Cloantza" and written in 1842 - a folklore-inspired work that Alecsandri considered one of his best improvisations. In this text, the baba is reconstructed in the style of a Shakespearian witch. The Cloantza appears mad with lust for a beautiful young boy. The poem drifts into an infernal rural night, where malevolent ghosts fill the night-clouds, and snakes slither among the flowers of bewitched ponds. In this perverse Eden, under a "pale and blond moon", the Cloantza invokes several demons while threatening the young man with the worst torments if he ever resists to her charms. However, when the demons fail to perform their deed, the old Cloantza uses Satan himself, and offers him her soul without thinking about the consequences. The deal with the devil makes her act in a way that recalls a possession or insanity (running around, jumping, flying in the sky, screaming exorcism rituals). The "mad Kloantza", surrounded by the "thousand infernal spirits", fails to notice the laugh in the woods that announces her doom. Right as she arrives "two steps" away from her beloved, the Cloantaza's dream becomes a nightmare: the rooster's chant wakes up the village-folks, the ghosts of the night fade away, and we conclude on an aquatic final scene: Satan snatches his prey, the baba, and the two jump away into the depths of the pond... Nature returns to a seren and calm state, but the danger is not gone, because the poem adds that a "melancholic voice" can still be heard by the pond, calling and seducing the men that walk near it late in the evening, promising them to protect them "by my exorcisms of the evil eye, of cruel fate and snake bites." Critics have pointed out a dual reading of the poem. On one side, it is the epic depictions of an unhealthy love, the inappropriate passion of an elderly woman for a woman, doubled by the fairytale figures of the wicked witch in love with the Prince Charming ; on the other side, there is an humoristic reading of the poem as a display of petty feuds, vain quarrels annoying demands and bothersome requests. As such, the baba's original duality returns: a devilish character, and a spirit of mischief.

Seventh, the Cloantza as "the avatar of Death". In a very old folk-song of Romania, "Holera" (Cholera, collected by Alecsandri in 1853), the Cloantza appears with the imagery of the Roman Furies, with snakes in her hair. We find back around the witch another syncretism of Christianity and paganism, mixing the Furies of Ancient Rome with the vengeful angels of the Bible: wild hair, a dry skin, a "venomous" body, a sword of fire in one hand... Here, the Cloantza is the embodiment of death. More precisely, she represents the deadly disease of the cholera that appears on the path of the carefree and joyful young man Vâlcu. No negociation is possible: the Cloantza is a Grim Reaper. In fact, in the song she is exclusively referred to as "cloantza", the term "baba" disappears, removing any form of humanity.

In conclusion, Baba Cloantza throughout the Romanian folktales is a multi-faced, multi-voiced entity. She is the baba that heals or mutilates, she is the old woman that makes people cry or laugh. She is an oracle who sometimes has to work to make sure her prophecies come true. And Ferent concludes that somehow, the baba Cloantza acts as a double of the storyteller itself, as an entity that represents the "power of fiction". Because one of the main powers of the Cloantza is to turn the fears and anxieties of those that seek her into prophecies - aka into tales that will orientate the person's mind towards the future and force them to think about their own role in the world. The storyteller lacks a "real" power, and as such is as "toothless" as the Cloantza, but they still are the owner of a form of magic - a magic of illusions that can nourish or poison. As such, when the storyteller describes the baba, somehow they are describing themselves, presenting their own self within their fictional world. And as such, the baba kept evolving and changing throughout the centuries, going from a mystical therapeutic character in ancient days to a subversive but harmless entity in contemporary fiction.

#romanian mythology #romanian fairytales #romanian folklore #baba cloanta #baba cloantza #romanian legends #romanian literature #romanian witches #legendary witches #fairytale witches #baba yaga #witch

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lily-onher-grave · 1 year

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Okay I saw Wicked again and I’m reobsessed so anyway some of my favorite things from this performance and just in general

The first word of the show is good and the last word of the show is wicked and if that doesn’t sum up how well the symbolism hits idk what does

Watching NOMTW it really did just hit me all over again the themes of fate and destiny and the limitations society puts on us and the limitations we put on ourselves

Wicked is a tragedy in the truest sense! No matter what Elphaba does she will not win and she cannot change things! No matter what Glinda does she will lose Elphaba!

Glinda’s sad face in NOMTW, and also how she is surrounded by the Ozians but is still so alone. They’re all giving her so much space, she has to walk across the stage and reach out just to get them to look her in the eyes (she’s lost the only people who ever saw her as a person rather than a doll)

The first time Elphaba runs downstage and she’s grinning so wide and she has so much hope for herself and for the world

The silence while Elphaba is dancing alone at the Ozdust, but more importantly, the way the music starts all soft and quiet when Glinda starts dancing with her. It’s the most romantic tune in the first act, maybe in the entire show

All the hand holding

The way that Glinda almost goes with her in Defying Gravity

The way Glinda reaches for Elphaba once she starts flying. Not caring at all that the guards and the Ozians and everyone else on stage can see. She’s just trying to reach her one last time

(The way Elphaba reaches back)

Glinda’s solo in Thank Goodness (Celia Hottenstein nails Glinda’s lower parts and she was an absolute dream especially in this song)

When Elphaba returns and Glinda walks into the room, the first thing she does is run into Elphaba’s arms. She’s horrified at the situation later but at that moment she doesn’t even notice anyone but Elphie

As Long As You’re Mine. Look Fiyero and Elphaba are Not It for me but the intensity of that song, the way the music slides into these dark little motifs, the harmonies. It’s so good

Glinda mourning Nessa when no one else is around

Elphaba blaming herself and Glinda immediately trying to comfort her even though they’re mad at each other

Idk if this is a normal thing and I’ve just never caught it before but when Fiyero was holding Glinda at gunpoint Elphaba was shaking her head, she looked so scared

Glinda tossing Elphaba her hat back and telling her to go

The opt up on FiyeeEErroooOOOOOOooooo

(All of No Good Deed)

Especially when she’s further back and the smoke is whirling around her and everything is purple and gold and it’s so sinister and her cape is flying around her and she is well and truly broken

I actually really love March of the Witch Hunters. It sounds sick af and it makes me imagine a world where the musical was closer to Maguire’s book and kept that super eerie, darkly violent vibe

(I feel the same way about when Fiyero is alone after ALAYM, and the music gets all intense and he’s running around the stage, holding up his lantern. idk those scenes hit a very specific vibe and I don’t quite know what it is but I like it)

Before For Good, when Elphaba started to tell Glinda to run, Glinda sobbed her name and it hit so hard

Have I mentioned the hand holding?

The way that they stand so still in For Good. So many songs have such insane movement to them, or even interludes between parts but For Good is just the two of them

(It’s such a love song)

Elphaba blew a kiss to Glinda and then pressed her hand over her heart when she hid her behind the curtain before the melting scene

Glinda’s sad face in NOMTW pt2

Again idk how common this is but before the lil For Good reprise Fiyero started to lead Elphaba away and she was about to take his hand but then Glinda started singing “who can say…” and Elphaba immediately turned away from him to go walk toward Glinda

#wicked #wicked the musical #gelphie #kinda #back on my bullshit I guess #god this show will always have my heart #Celia hottenstein #Olivia valli #was Elphaba and her voice is stunningggggg

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lillifaba · 8 months

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My thoughts on the Wicked movie teaser trailer... so far.

Before you pop off in my replies and reblogs yes I know, this is just a teaser trailer and not the official tralier. Regardless that doesn't give this movie a magical critique pass. Most of my critques on this teaser come from my own thoughts and some of points raised in this post. This is also just me rambling into the void. Don't like don't read lmao.

If you've been following me for a while, then you already know my opinion on the Wicked movie and casting. Surprise surprise, you guessed it... I am extremely underwhelmed and disappointed. For so many reasons.

I'll start off with some things I like.

Johnathan Bailey is hot asf as Fiyero. (even if he looks way older than Fiyero is canonically meant to be)

The set and props. I think some of them actually look pretty neat. I'm glad they didn't use a green screen for Shiz and put in the effort to build a university campus. The train from Shiz to Oz looks kinda dope. I was always wondering what it would look like and I'll probably use that as inspiration for my fics and art comms.

Jeff Goldblum as The Wizard. I won't lie, I haven't seen a lot of movies with Jeff in them so I was cautious about his casting. However, I was pleasantly surprised to see how much his look and his performance so far actually fits Oscar. Time will tell if he can hold up to those standards.

I'm happy a WOC is playing Elphaba. Everyone complains about Fiyero not being racially book accurate but nobody talks enough about Elphaba being discriminated against as an amalgamation for rac!sm. More women of color should play her on stage.

THE NAILSSSS. Come on people this is the Wicked Witch of the West we're talking about she should be SERVING WITH THOSE CLAWS! Although personally I would've preferred them sharp but I'm over here with almond arylics what do I know lol.

I'm happy they casted a disabled actress to play Nessa. I always wondered why they never did that.

With that out of the way, let's get into a million reasons why I hated this trailer and why I'll most likely hate the movie anyways.

Arianna as Glinda. Look, I don't hate Ari. I like some of her songs and even bought some of her perfumes because I like smelling good. At worst I just don't care about her. However whenever I see Arianna as Glinda, I'm sorry I just don't see Glinda, I see ARIANNA GRANDE dressed in last minute cosplay for a Halloween party. I heard one line... ONE LINE from her and the delivery is NOTHING like Glinda's character or cadence, it's just Ari in drama class.

The wigs and costumes. What the hell was the makeup and hair crew thinking when they selected that wig for Arianna???? It's an ashy dull blonde that brings no color or life to the character. The #1 thing about Glinda is her vibrant blonde hair, it's even mentioned IN THE SONGS. MULTIPLE TIMES. This wig looks like a botched bleach job. Then, there's the costumes. Good lord what are those glasses on Elphaba's face??? I get they're trying to be all "whimsy" and "peculiar" in tone with WOZ, but they just look silly. Why not stick to the glasses in the musical? Why overdo it? I fear how the Emerald City sunglasses will look (if they even add those in) Also why are Glinda's clothes so dull? Where's the vibrance? Where's the pink frilly coquette contrast to Elphaba's dark coquette?

The camera work and Elphaba's entrance. This is Wicked the musical. I'm expecting a huge and grandiose presentation, especially when it comes to THE MAIN CHARACTER. Showing Elphaba from the back of her head in slow motion while she's walking to the entrance is just... boring and an overused cliche. Not to mention the underwhelming reactions from the extras. The cinematography is just meh. I'm expecting better for a fantasy film. It's been done before.

Cynthia as Elphaba. Listen, Cynthia is a great singer and talented actress. I have absolutely nothing against her. With that being said I'm going to be brutally honest: much like Arianna, she is not Elphaba... at least not entirely. Like Johnathan, Cynthia is way older than Elphaba is meant to be canonically and the editing team clearly used the de-aging filter on her to the point where it looks unnatural. If this movie had been made at least five years ago or earlier Cynthia would've fit perfectly.

Continuing my point with Cynthia: the singing. I'm sorry but what the hell was that riff with Defying Gravity??? I'm not entirely blaming Cynthia for this because this has become a massive problem with a lot of musical film adaptations which I like to call the popification of songs. It happens in nearly all the live-action Disney movies and I'm sick of it. What confuses me is STEPHEN FUCKING SCHWARTZ is involved in the musical production. He wrote the god damn songs, how the hell does he not direct Cynthia to sing the right note instead of letting her do whatever she wants??? I don't think he did that with Idina, which is why this riff is so iconic. Come on, if a tiktok meme trend can do that riff better and more accurately than an actual singer can, that's just embarrassing. I'm not good at explaining myself in terms of singing, so I'm hoping a youtuber I occassionally watch does a reaction video to the trailer and does a better job at explaining than I can.

The acting. Like I said with Arianna, the delivery is so bland and dry. I'm trying not to judge all of the acting on a teaser trailer but if this is how the leads are going to act throughout the whole movie then I'm disappointed.

Too much CGI in some parts. I get it. This is a fantasy movie there's bound to be certain effects you can't do practically. But that's no excuse when this is a $145 million dollar movie. The flying monkeys are so painfully obvious CGI. This was a wasted chance to get Doug Motherfucking Jones to play Chistery in prosthetics. So much of this movie ends up looking like those garbage Oz spinoffs. (If you know you know) The CGI is just bad. The bubble and Emerald City buildings look so cheap.

WHY IS THIS MOVIE SO DARK? This is suppossed to be OZ! Why do I have to turn up my brightness to look into the shadow realm???

Now onto some things I'm confused about.

Michelle Yeoh as Madame Morrible. I'm praying to god she'll blow us away because she's such a good actress and is serving c*nt in her costumes. I haven't heard her sing (I'm dumb but unless the opera song she sang in EEAAO was her then WOW!)

The silver slippers. I KNOW! I KNOW! The ruby slippers are copyrighted and can't be thrown in all nilly willy wherever you please. But keep in mind this is a 145 MILLION DOLLAR MOVIE ALL FOR PART ONE. Do not tell me they couldn't shill a few extra bucks on signing a few contracts. AND YES I KNOW. The musical uses the silver slippers in the first act in ode to the L. Frank Baum books which I love, but don't forget, they turn red when Elphaba enchants them to give Nessa the ability to walk. Dorothy shows up after Nessa is killed and has her shoes stolen. Why aren't they red now? Not to mention most of the audience might not know the original slippers in the books were silver. This would've been a great chance to combine two different canons.

WHO IS PLAYING DR. DILLAMOND???? ifitisjamescordenandyouusecrappycgiiwillgotoyourhousejohnchuand-

Finally, why did John Chu absolutely insist on this being a two parter movie with a year long intermission? Is this shit show really that fantastical that it can be akin to Kill Bill part 1 and 2?

That's pretty much it for now but expect an update to this post with a reblog with updated thoughts when an official trailer drops. My mind probably won't change though. I'm totalllllyyy not considering pulling an Eddy Burback sneaking into Morbius for a week when this movie comes out lol.

Universal Studios and AMC theaters that was a joke please for the love of god do not send Nicole Kidman after me.

#anyways can't wait for the reactionary misogynist reactionary videos pumped out like garbage by neckbeards talking about “woke culture”#I'm already seeing it in the comment section #I'm going to go stick to better fics that get Wicked right #wicked movie

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lanassgirlll · 8 months

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Old Faces

Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: The last time you saw the Mikaelson family, you got left heartbroken. Now, you meet a certain member of the family again after centuries.

Warnings: kidnapping (kinda?) tiniest bit of angst, mentions of paranoia, use of y/n!

Words: 1,7k

AN: First of all, it's been a while since I have posted something, but I am back! So, I'm thinking about making this story into two or three parts. Also, I haven't decided which the love interest will be, so I will make a poll and I ask of anyone who reads this, to vote and choose!! Anyway, enjoy my new story and I hope you like it! (side note: please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes, lol)

Getting out of the taxi, Y/N took in a deep breath whilst looking around the fascinating streets of New Orleans. She had only been here a few times, long before the city was founded. So, saying the place had changed would be underestimating.

It was almost dark outside, and she couldn't wait to have a shower and get some sleep. The flight she had booked was early in the morning, so she had spent many hours in the air just to get here.

Taking her bags out of the car, Y/N slowly made her way inside the hotel she had booked a room in. The hotel itself wasn't anything special and it wasn't one of the best places to stay in the city. But she liked the simple, rather than the extravagant places, so this would be just perfect for her.

It was now early in the morning when Y/N was getting ready for her day. She had decided that she'd spend the few days she was staying in the city, exploring, and collecting little souvenirs for her home in Europe, instead of sulking and rotting in the bed of her hotel room. Y/N didn't like traveling so far away from home much, as she loved the comfort of it, but whenever she did, collecting things that would catch her eye was like a tradition for her. Her house was full of colorful toys, rugs, all kinds of weird cutlery and even furniture, all of which she had gotten from her travels.

Putting on her coat and grabbing her bag, she made her way out of the room, and outside into the streets of New Orleans.

After strolling around the more modern part of the city, Y/N decided to go to the famous French Quarter, as she had heard many good things about it. At least more good than bad, as the place was known for the wicked vampires and witches who somehow never could make peace between their communities.

The place was truly beautiful, she had to admit. The buildings, the people, the jazz music, which she didn't like much, but it was still charming in a way.

But as she was walking around the streets, simply just admiring the place like a kid would admire a toy store, Y/N couldn't get of the feeling that someone was following her.

Sure, she was known for being a little too paranoid at times, but this time she really couldn't find out why. A thousand questions were running in her mind: Was it because of the stories she had heard about this place? Were the witches trying to get her for being in their territory? The fear was slowly building up as the paranoia was taking over her mind.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly made her way into an alleyway and looked around, just to make sure she was alone.

Just as she was about to open her bag, a man appeared in front of her. And as she was about to speak, the unfamiliar man broke her neck, and her world went dark.

Slowly waking up, a quiet groan escaped Y/N's lips. She figured it had to be from getting her neck broken. As the realisation kicked in, she opened her eyes and looked around.

She was in a big room, big windows letting the bright sun lighten the space. The room itself didn't have much furniture nor people in it. She looked down at herself and saw that she was tied down to a chair, and from the burning that she felt, it was obvious that the ropes were soaked with vervain. Great.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she managed to speak up.

''Hello? Is- is there anyone?''

She had to admit, she was scared to death right now. She had never really been in any situations like this up until now. She had never gotten attacked by anyone and it's been a few good centuries since anyone has broken her neck. The worst feeling was the anxiety she was feeling at that very moment.

How could she be this stupid? She was such an old vampire and she always let her fears get the worst out of her at the worst moments. Like this one. Y/N thought that this would be the day she'd die.

She was so lost in her thought, she didn't even notice the man that was now standing behind her.

''What do we have here?''

Hearing the deep voice behind her out of nowhere, made her squeak and close her eyes tightly, trying to control her breathing. She was a scaredy cat and at that moment she felt more embarrassed than afraid.

''Who are you? What do you want with me?''

The question started flying out of her mouth as she tried to get a better look at the man behind her.

''The more important question is, who are you? And what are you doing here?''

Just as Y/N was about to answer his questions out of fear for her life, she heard another man walking into the room. Of course, she couldn't see him either and the only thing she could hear now, was the quiet mumbling between the two of them.

Y/N swore that the voice of the man who had just walked in was one she had heard before. She just couldn't place where.

She looked down at her hands, trying to pull them out of the ropes, even though she knew it was of no use. She hissed at the burning feeling and clenched her jaw. Y/N was getting angry now. She had done nothing wrong to deserve this.

''Hello? If you won't tell me what you want, just let me go! I have done nothing to you!''

As she looked up, with the corner of her eye saw one of the men making his way over to her. He stood in front of her and looked her up and down, and Y/N swore she could feel the judgment in his eyes.

''Quick change of attitude, I see?''

The man was tall, with dark skin and sharp face. His expression wasn't giving anything out, and she couldn't read him.

''Look, I only-''

She stopped mid-sentence as the other man now stood in front of her, too. Memories started flooding her mind as she stared up at him. It had been centuries since she last saw him.

The one and only, Elijah Mikaelson.

He was looking at her, like he had just seen a ghost. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were parted, as he was sucking in a breath.

Before either of them could make a sound, the dark-haired man that stood next to Elijah, spoke up first.

''I'm guessing the two of you know each other. Care to explain, Elijah?''

Y/N clenched her jaw tightly, looking away from them without a saying a word. She was getting overwhelmed with all the memories that were coming back. She had been keeping them locked at the back of her mind, as they were too painful. It had taken her decades to get over what had happened. In all honesty, she never truly got over it, but at least she managed to control the thoughts.

''Marcel, would you be so kind and leave us.''

She heard the man, whose name apparently was Marcel, sigh with a hint of annoyance before slowly making his way out of the room.

Y/N reluctantly looked up at Elijah again, her jaw still clenched tight. He looked so different since the way time she saw him, yet still the same in a way. The only obvious changes were, of course, his clothes and his hair style.

''Y/N, this is- a really unexpected surprise.''

She scoffed as she heard his words. Using the word 'unexpected' was a funny way to describe it.

''Then let me go, and we can all continue with our day, peacefully.''

''I'm afraid I can't do that. Just yet.''

''You cannot be serious, Elijah.''

She was so angry at this point, her blood was boiling. What did he want with her? She knew that he didn't know she was here until he saw her with his own eyes. The shocked face he had made told her everything she needed to know.

''Just let me go. I don't know why your friend had to snap my neck and bring me here, but I assure you, I have done no wrong to him!''

Elijah had a small smile dancing on his lips as she chuckled at her words lightly.

''What's so funny?''

''I'm just- I am at loss of words. You've changed so much since the last time we saw each other.''

''I will not sit here and suffer, just because you want to chit chat.''

As she was looking at him, she saw as an emotion flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before she had the chance to figure out what it meant.

Suddenly, he ripped the ropes off her hands and threw them down on the ground.

Y/N quickly stood up and took a few steps backwards, needing space from him.

''Don't expect a 'thank you'.''

''Why are you here, Y/N?''

Her brows furrowed as she heard his question.

''Excuse me? Suddenly you own the world? I was here on a holiday, and now you have ruined it!''

His face was like a rock. She couldn't figure him out and it was slowly starting to annoy her, along with the other hundred things that were already annoying her.

''No, of course not.''

''Listen, Elijah. I don't want to be around you. So, I will get my things and go back home, and you won't hear or see me ever again. Sounds good? Great!''

Just as she started walking towards the door Marcel had walked out of earlier, figuring that had to be the way out of the building, Elijah appeared in front of her, startling her.

''Jesus-''

''Don't go. Just not yet at least.''

''I don't owe you anything Elijah. And you don't deserve a second of my time. Now get out of my way.''

''Y/N, please, let's talk. Or let me talk. I believe we have much to go through.''

She was looking at him, thinking about his plea. Was she really about to agree with him? She had tried so hard to keep the memories out of her mind, because of how painful they were.

But just like in the past, she really could never say no to him.

Knowing she'd regret it later, she took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest, before speaking up.

''Fine, let's talk.''

#writing #send anons #writeblr #writers on tumblr #anon ask #short story #the originals #tvd #elijah mikaelson #marcel gerard #tvdu #tvd universe #tvdu fanfiction #x reader #y/n

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piratekane · 8 months

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i read a lot of books in january so i figure that i'd give y'all a quick rundown on what i loved, what was terrible (affectionate), and what was also terrible (derogatory).