#mysterious bog witch

[ghost-bxrd]

Im starting to think that whoever the mysterious researcher is has to be someone from the Court, bc i think you mentioned maybe wanting the league to be mers? Or at least Talia and Damian? so the court being the mysterious research group could make sense, and then i feel like it would either be William Cobb or Calvin Rose bc we all know how much you’re loving Calvin rn- Especially since, who i am assuming is Dick, is [redacted] in the post… Hmm much to think about. I’m leaning more towards Calvin rather than Cobb, only because in canon Cobb has killed members of the Wayne family before, so him wanting to protect them now seems unlikely- UNLESS of course that’s what you want us to think….. 👀���

Cackling like a sea witch right now! 🤭

Good catch with the League! Yes, I mentioned it in an earlier post that they’re mer, so it would boot them right out the list of suspects? Maybe? 👀

And of course, our one redacted person being Dick… oh the mystery. Is it Calvin who was trying to protect him? Or Cobb trying to do one good thing in his life? Heheheh 🤭🌊🦈

[my-username-goes-here]

Coming back to Tumblr after bog witch hour moment like oh what's this there's squares of people and they're moving and they're responding to me??? No thank you

Returning to Tumblr after disappearing under mysterious circumstances and seeing a post saying they're removing that feature like oh well goodbye I'm sure somebody will miss you eventually

[carnyx-int]

📢 ANNOUNCEMENT 📢

She can grant your wishes, cure your wounds, even bestow untold power, if you’re willing to pay the price. Should you be so brave - or so desperate - you can find her deep in the forest, where even most animals dare not go.

Or so the story goes.

Mamó has long since forgotten herself, and even longer since stopped caring what tales fearful parents tell their children. She remembers not where she came from, the people she knew, nor even her own name.

_

Introducing Forest Keeper, a cozy farming/crafting sim following Mamó, a bog witch who lost her identity long ago in a mysterious fae deal, as she rediscovers herself through caring for others. Forest Keeper allows the player to harvest and craft at their own pace, with an engaging story of familial love, processing grief, and mending ties.

⚗️ Brew potions and hexes for curious patrons. 🌱 Experience self-sufficiency foraging mushrooms and harvesting ingredients on your farm. �� Follow the story and enter Tír na nÓg, the otherworld realm. 🦊 Undo past mistakes and mend ties with a mysterious fae and a guardian fox. 

Forest Keeper is our first chapter of stories honoring Irish Celtic lore and mythology, inspired by our favorite games and the stories we have been told.

Coming to Steam and itch.io end of 2024! Follow our development journey on itch and join our Discord!

And yes, you can pet the fox.

[haveyoulistenedtothispodcast]

Summary:

A fortnightly horror audio drama. Spirit Box Radio is a cosy horror fiction podcast about a radio show for enthusiasts of all things arcane. The show has recently been taken over by Sam Enfield, a former postboy with no experience in the arcane arts, following the disappearance of the previous host. Sam soon discovers there are more than ghosts haunting the show, and finds himself amidst a mystery which threatens everything he knows about the world beyond his tiny basement broadcast studio, and maybe even himself.

With a whole host of supporting characters from knife-wielding lesbians and truth-knowing lawyers to angry bog-witches and hot-coded florists, the world of SBR is brought to life by a cast of majority LGBTQ+ actors from across the world.

[croxot]

Mitzy Lore Post

Mitzy's true origin is lost to time, and possibly tragedy.

Gullybog was not known for being particularity foreboding or dangerous, other than having unsure footing. This was thanks in part to a local hermit-wizard, simply known as Simon. Simon was an aged man who had seen far more than most humans in their lifetime. A failed final adventure had him set aside ambition and recluse himself in the swamp. He never fully set aside his kindly nature, and consigned himself to helping the locals, albeit largely indirectly, avoiding most contact and creating a legend out of himself in the process. One day, Simon heard an infant's cries not too far from his abode. A small purple-skinned babe was found off the side of Gullybog Road, some few steps into the swamp. This child was proportionally similar to a halfling or a goblin, but her species was ultimately unknown. Attempts to divine the who or what left the child, despite pouring his magical prowess into the mystery, proved fruitless. And so, late in his life, Simon became a father. Despite being in the middle of nowhere, Mitzy's unusual upbringing included a great deal of intellectual schooling. Simon's magecraft and vast collection of magical and historical tomes meant the isolated Mitzy did not want for learning. She took to magecraft itself with gusto. Over the years she forged a bond with the elemental plane, collecting several loyal elementals which are still summoned to her side regularly in the present day.

During Mitzy's late teenage years, Simon's life waned. He passed away on an uneventful afternoon with his hand clutched by his daughter's. Mitzy saw to his cremation the next day, and thus began a new local legend of the Bog Witch. Mitzy carried on her father's minor do-gooding for the people of the swamp into her early twenties, until a chance run-in with a group of adventurers gave her an epiphany. She hungered to expand her knowledge and her aptitude, she needed to experience more than the swamp and the tomes she'd read and re-read a half dozen times could offer. She needed to find out where she came from.

After leaving the bog, Mitzy would go on to become part of an adventuring group of her own, two odd goblins from different societies who would become like sisters to her: Chakka the unyielding barbarian warrior, and Krix the shadow-manipulating thief. ----- Mitzy is a Wizard who's focus is on summoning a rotation of loyal Elementals. She can have one elemental consistently accompany her at any time without limitation. They can act on their own in accordance with their personalities, or can infuse Mitzy's attire, granting her additional defenses and augmenting her other spells. Her current elementals are: Ivan - Fire, Aggressive, burning aura sears foes and cleanses afflictions from allies. Slab - Earth, Protective, manipulates the environment in the party's favor. Leviafas - Lightning, Dispassionate, singles out high-priority threats, increases flow of mana. Melut - Ice, Sloth, chills foes and disperses enemy magics.

[nomsfaultau]

Honestly what would you put in a summoning circle or bait a trap to catch each of your Philzas. Not people that’s a bit to obvious for some. Ican think of at least two who would like this

I'm going to include just. Every Philza. So hold on to your seats-I read the no people line too late

Where do babies come from?: Summoned via a 20 pound note and cold slice of pizza. Philza is half asleep and just got up for a midnight snack. Might eat one of the ribbons tho!

Where, then, do you loyalties lie?: Summoning circle is from baby scp Tommy, who (((somehow???))) has figured out how to use Red to summon Dr. Minecraft. Initially the summoning ritual would be initiated from baby Tommy torture, but eventually he'd get summoned because Tommy thinks there's an anomaly under his bed, or wants to show Phil a cool bug he found, or because it would be funny. So, summon using Red.

Golden Apples (Gilded Atrophy): Trap, bait is a golden apple. Easy. Next!

Where Hearts Roost: Canonically summoned by Tommy screaming for help. But, witches in general just seem to show up whenever someone needs to make a dark bargain. Appears in a flurry of crows and might force you to answer his riddles three before helping, because he is a mischievous twit like that.

Fault: Can canonically be summoned using his true name. So, find that and you're golden! He might freak out and kill whoever summoned him because that will cause him many problems. Could be baited with a wallet photo chain of his Collected. Like, he'd know it was a trap, but he'd walk into it for the lols.

The altars we sacrifice our futures on: Can probably be summoned by the goddess he serves, so if you can 1. Summon Kristin via lots of murder probably and 2. ask her very nicely to procure a Philza for you, that'll probably do it. Could also be baited if you give him a puntable Technoblade, because he loves their slightly lethal 'friendly' sparring matches. Or a nice cream pastry, you know how good delicious food hits at his age? Priceless. Would use blood magic to evade the trap tho.

116 East Normal Street: Bait with an ancient Chinese historical artifact that he lost three centuries ago. (or...potentially lost...? Unclear if he's immortal (and of what type???), or Techno just thinks Phil is an immortal who thinks he's also immortal?)

Worth far more than your weight in gold: Hehehee ribbons look like tasty worms. Could also bait [Philza] with any amount of yummy looking gold. Canonically gets baited with his wife + glass trap.

Lord, what fools these mortals be!: Can summon this Philza with his name as well. Can bait him with revealing the mysterious secrets of a PB and J. Or a new child to kidnap so he can stop thinking about the horrors of immortalitly.

Lighting lanterns to bring you home: no, probably can't. There's no summoning mechanic, and Philza is a crotchety old man who has survived by being suspicious of everything nad constantly expecting the gods to trick him. But symbolically, a lantern could do it.

A ghost is a tragedy reliving itself: Probably can be summoned with a bog standard ghost summoning technique (although deeply unclear that he's a ghost). Will require sacrificing a baby, who instantly is drained of all youth and crumbles into an old person and then at last to dust. Congrats, you have now summoned a baby vitality vampire/drainer/entity!

The Lambs Wolves Wear: Can bait him with one (1) of his real alive children or a monster killing item/weapon. Philza will construct an elaborate lie in order to excuse himself into taking the bait. Has a dissociative panic attack when the trap kicks in.

Of feathers and fawning: Bait with the chick screams of avian Tommy. Normal Philza would be sus as hell, but Bird Dad Instinct Phil has no such reservations and will immediately fly face first into a trap. Also down feathers....they're so cute-

Mandatory Family Reunion: Baby pictures of Techno are good bait. However. Philza literally first chapter walks in to pick up his drunk kid with 30 snipers called in and several guns on him. So, you can trap him, but it is incredibly ill advised.

Shred your wings to make you ours: Bait with the succulent smell of a dying avian Techno. So juicy, so tender. Or promise him the trapped spot is a sound proof place to take a quick nap.

Bunnyblade's 5 step plan to take over the world: Can probably summon him with carrots and lab chemicals. Or bait him by paying Technoblade 5 carrots to run to the trap site + promise of thwarting Phil once and for all, freeing the bunny, Philza immediately chasing down right into the trap, and then. IDK hoping your deed will be remembered favorably by the soon to be new rabbit overlord once Techno has accomplished world anarchy.

Your heart in my hands: Tubbo's blood. Although, you're far more likely to get vampire Tommy trapped first since Philza is old and has more self control.

and uhhhh wips bc I have no self control- working titles

Ash on my fingertips; Not on my soul: Potentially Philza is summonable with some mirrors or light refracting crystals. Can be baited with new research material but gooooood luck trapping him because. He's pretty much a hologram...?

Always at your side but never in your sight: Cool architecture blueprints. But Kristin will be assassinating you latter tonight.

Stanpire: Philza could be easily baited with clout chasing, high donos, and his cute new fledgling. But, ah- are you sure you want to die that brutally?

Zombie au: Well, brains, but Philza would feel really awful afterwards....

[certified-eureka-posts]

About this blog!!

Hi! This is a sideblog for me to dump posts that remind me of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, an excellent system for tabletop mystery games developed by @anim-ttrpgs. Below the cut is information about Eureka, its creators, myself, and what to expect out of this blog.

What is Eureka?

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is an indie tabletop roleplaying game by the very talented team at @anim-ttrpgs, focused on providing mechanical support for stories where characters investigate mysteries, as well as allowing for the presence of supernatural phenomena and characters. In my opinion, it is the most elegant, cohesive, and interesting TTRPG system that I have ever read or played in terms of its mechanics, storytelling capabilities, and even its perspectives on society as a whole. This blog is, more or less, "propaganda" convincing people to give the game a shot – I'm not affiliated with its creators in any way other than being acquainted with them through their work and online communities, but I love the game and its community, and I'd love to see it succeed, so I want to share an idea of what it is and why I like it.

What makes Eureka such a great system?

A whole lot! Its systems are deeply elegant, creating a game where players can piece together mysteries alongside their investigators in a grounded world that still leaves space for supernatural intrigue. Combat is swift and strategic, but deadly if you go in without a plan. Investigations can be complex, but even the stickiest of situations don't require railroading to keep players on track. Mundane and supernatural characters alike have access to unique abilities, quirks, and skills that make each character feel distinct in mechanics as much as in flavor. The game interacts with the real world by way of fiction in a way that's refreshing and endlessly fascinating.

Systems like Eureka! moments (which allow investigators to retroactively learn information from a previously failed roll) and the streamlined character creation system allow the game to run smoothly and efficiently without getting overly bogged down, and mechanics like the Composure meter (representing an investigator's energy level and state of mind) and the Success/Partial Success/Failure resolution mechanic create an interesting element of risk where player choices matter a lot.

On top of all that, Eureka includes rules for supernatural characters that beautifully integrate the themes, traits, and abilities of classic folkloric or media monsters, making for intriguing secrets, hard choices, and a lot of variety in the gameplay of different investigators. (Most of this is already true of mundane non-supernatural characters, but it's carried through into the lens of vampires and other monsters very elegantly.)

I'd love to see the tabletop gaming scene as a whole take notes from Eureka's handling of a lot of different problems, and I'm constantly excited to see what their team comes up with next. If you ever want to run a mystery story in a tabletop game (especially if systems like D&D 5e have disappointed you on that front), I would seriously recommend Eureka as the game to use for that purpose, and if you're interested in the hobby at all, I would recommend reading Eureka as a way to get valuable insight into the thought process that goes into game design in the tabletop space.

What can I expect to see on this blog?

This blog is for basically any post I see that makes me think of Eureka. Most of the time, that includes references to the monsters and phenomena referenced in the rules about supernatural characters – posts about vampires, werewolves, witches, and alien shapeshifters, for example, are often right at home here. In particular, posts about these kinds of supernatural beings being normal people and living normal lives tend to remind me of Eureka. Other things that are reminiscent of Eureka include noir and neo-noir aesthetics, which the game owes a lot to, and popular detective media, which is ultimately its core inspiration.

Who runs this blog?

I'm Nora, my main blog is @mc-cookies, and I am just a fan of Eureka. I'm not directly affiliated with the creators (hell, they don't remotely have the budget to make me advertise for them), but they and the rest of the community are super nice people who have a lot of insight about the process of making and playing tabletop games.

Who makes Eureka, and how do I support them?

Eureka is an amazing game, and independent tabletop designers across the board do a ton of work to make art that I enjoy a lot, but unfortunately it's not the most welcoming market to be in. Wizards of the Coast, and by extension Hasbro, has what is effectively a monopoly on the TTRPG hobby in the form of D&D, and it's hard for new creators to break into the space because of that. Eureka is made by ANIM TTRPGs, a very small group of designers taking on a very large project. While they're gearing up for the full release of Eureka and preparing their next projects, any support is helpful to them.

To read Eureka, visit their itch.io page to download a fully playable beta version on a pay-what-you-can basis! Even free downloads can support the game by bumping Eureka on itch's algorithm and getting it recommended to more people.

To support ANIM more, consider subscribing to their Patreon, which will grant you access to more frequent updates of the Eureka beta, as well as concept art, previews of their future projects, and a community discord server.

To give on a one-time basis, use ANIM's ko-fi page to donate to them more directly. Right now they're also taking donations to add custom characters into the rulebook as possible random encounters, and ko-fi is the place to go for that!

If you just want to interact with the team at ANIM and learn more about the work that they're doing, give them a follow here on tumblr at @anim-ttrpgs – their blog has similar content to this one, as well as regularly posting excerpts of the rules, answering people's questions, and discussing the broader tabletop gaming hobby.

And last but certainly not least, ANIM also runs a TTRPG Book Club server on Discord, which is excellent for finding RPGs to read and play and people to read and play them with, and is a great place to interact with other people who are interested in indie TTRPGs (including ANIM's staff and other fans of their work).

What's the deal with your avatar?

That is a "snoop", a stylized human figure serving as the mascot of Eureka! Designed by @theblackwarden, these little guys appear throughout the rulebook to graphically represent various mechanics, and they're very fun designs. This one, in particular, represents the "anime wolfgirl", which is a humanoid form that wolfman (aka "loup-garou" or "Hollywood werewolf") investigators can take, reserving only their ears, tails, and claws.

I have more questions!

My ask box is open! Have fun checking out the other posts around this blog :)

[relax-and-read-on]

So, due to popular demand...

FANTASY AU, MORTARION!

(My own attempt at Pixel art for Fantasy Morty, I know, not the best but hey)

Mortarion, in this au, is a Fairy King, ruling over a magical forest. From the outside, it look like a thorny place, full of paths that lead nowhere, poisonous mushrooms, mysterious bog and terrible creatures that dislike humans. From the inside... it's still mostly that, but it's inhabitant are pretty happy with it. They are mostly dryad, small pixie that live in mushrooms, half insectoid fae and mischivious nature spirit. Most of the time, they are left alone, except for their one true great ressource: their Lord of Silence, Mortarion, is the greatest healer of the realm.

Some call him a great witch, wich he consider a grave insult. Some call him a God of medicine, wich he is *also* embarassed by. In all truth, he is blessed and cursed with his delicate moth wings: they produce a dust that, when prepared properly, can cure anything, even the plague or the stronguest poison. An old legend, sometime whispered by a bettle-fairy bamed Vorx, tell that in hia youth, he had been kidnapped by a terrible lich wizard, who tore at his body and almost ground his wings to the bone. He apparently escaped with the help of a strange being, Callas Typhon, who is now his most trusted advisor, even if he might be a smelly boggart-thing.

He might not have that many friends, but he is a loyal, kind person. Deep down. If he doesn't use you for spare part in his potions.

[laurelsofhighever]

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Characters/pairings: Alistair x Cousland Chapter: 15/? Chapter Rating: T Chapter warnings: None Fic Summary: The story of the Fifth Blight, in a world where Alistair was raised to royalty instead of joining the Grey Wardens.

--

In the unexpected doubling of their number, Alistair felt the shift in balance within their little group. No longer a partnership of he and Rosslyn with their acerbic bog witch guide, now they were outnumbered by strangers – or perhaps evenly matched if he counted the dog – set on a path of dubiously shared purpose. Leliana seemed trustworthy enough despite the air of mystery, but the same could not be said of Sten. Aside from the fact that he towered over all of them, the man emitted an aura of great, contained stillness, like one of Bann Ferrenly’s famous clockworks, wound up to burst into movement with the merest press of a switch. He walked with his empty fists clenched at his sides, but made no complaint about the pain of his wounds.

He also seemed fascinated by the idea of a war hound. On the first evening they stopped together, he stared for long enough that Cuno, pressed along the length of his mistress’ leg, grew leery enough to growl a warning, his ears flattened and his black lips pursed to frame the lethal curve of his teeth. Instead of averting his gaze, the huge qunari instead growled back, his own, blunter fangs bared, and only Rosslyn’s steadying hand on the dog’s flank kept him from launching across the camp in response to the challenge.

“Hmpf,” Sten retorted after a moment, and turned his eyes away.

“That’s a dangerous game,” Rosslyn warned him. “Mabari aren’t known for making idle threats.”

“I sought to understand him,” came the reply. “To fight alongside him, I must know the strength of his heart.”

“And what did you discover?”

Another grunt as he turned his attention back to the dog. “You are a true warrior, and worthy of respect.”

A further moment passed in tense silence as Cuno weighed the pronouncement, and then, like the snuffing of a candle, the tension vanished from his limbs and he went back to playing the clown, his long tongue lolling as he stretched and wriggled onto his back in a demand to have his belly rubbed. Indulging the behaviour with a smile, Rosslyn failed to notice the hard, calculating gaze still fixed on her across the fire.

It wasn’t the last time Alistair caught Sten watching her. She held the qunari’s attention as she saw to the horse, or when she listened in on Leliana’s attempts to melt Morrigan’s icy exterior, or sighted along an arrow to the fowl they hoped to spit for dinner. Though such scrutiny might be explained away by cultural differences, it unnerved him, and even woke a wyrmlike jealousy deep beneath his ribs.

“Don’t tell me you’re falling in love,” he snapped, when it needled him too far.

Sten glanced away from the other side of the kindling fire, where the rest of their group sat plucking their evening meal. “What?”

“You keep staring like you’re moonstruck.”

The qunari’s brow furrowed. “I do not know what that means.”

“Rosslyn,” Alistair clarified. “You watch her.”

“It bothers you that I do so.” It was not stated like a question.

“I want to know why,” he retorted.

Read the rest on AO3

[inudono]

Out in the fringes of the Ghostlands lurks a curious bog witch, whom the locals gossip about her mysterious medicine that can cure any ailment.

[watchnrant]

A Discovery of Witches: Season 1 – A Bewitching Journey through Romance, Mystery, and Magic

Supernatural dramas often teeter between guilty pleasures and forgettable fluff, but A Discovery of Witches defies these expectations with a spellbinding narrative and captivating visuals. This isn’t just another tale of vampires, witches, and the occasional werewolf vying for screen time. No, this series takes the genre by the throat and elevates it, delivering a first season that’s as much about unraveling the mysteries of the heart as it is about ancient manuscripts and spell-casting.

Visual Mastery: A Feast for the Eyes

The cinematography in A Discovery of Witches is nothing short of lavish, transforming each scene into a sumptuous visual feast that rivals high-budget feature films. From the sun-drenched spires of Oxford’s Bodleian Library to the almost unbearably romantic gloom of Matthew Clairmont’s ancestral home, Sept-Tours, every frame is meticulously crafted to draw you into its world.

Take those scenes in Oxford, for instance. The camera doesn’t just capture the scholarly majesty of the place; it positively revels in it, lingering on each stone column and every dust-covered tome like they’re the most precious things in the world. It’s not just scenery; it’s a mood, a vibe—an atmospheric hook that digs into your soul and refuses to let go. With its gorgeously shot, centuries-old secrets, Sept-Tours feels less like a setting and more like a character in its own right.

While this detailed visual analysis is crucial to conveying the series visual splendor, the focus remains on maintaining the shows momentum. This ensures that the richness of the insights is preserved without overwhelming the viewer.

Performances: Spellbinding Chemistry

Matthew Goode’s portrayal of the enigmatic vampire Matthew Clairmont is sharp and intense, perfectly balancing menace with a surprising vulnerability. His performance is pitch-perfect, walking the fine line between menacing and magnetic while also showing a depth that makes his character deeply compelling.

Then there’s Teresa Palmer, who takes on the role of Diana Bishop, a witch who’s been denying her powers her whole life. Palmer’s Diana is no damsel in distress. She’s curious, intelligent, and cautious but never weak—just the kind of protagonist you can root for. The chemistry between Palmer and Goode is electric, the type of slow-burn romance that makes you want to scream at your screen for them to kiss already. But when they do? It’s fireworks—undeniably the series’ emotional core; their relationship keeps you returning for more.

Supporting characters also get their moment in the spotlight. Malin Buska’s portrayal of Satu, the witch with a dark side, is particularly noteworthy. Satu’s relentless pursuit of Diana creates tension, making every episode feel like a powder keg. Meanwhile, the delightful dynamic between Diana’s aunts, Sarah and Em, adds a layer of warmth and grounding that keeps the series from getting lost in its supernatural grandeur.

Storytelling: A Tapestry of Intrigue and Emotion

A Discovery of Witches doesn’t just lay all its cards on the table from the get-go. No, it plays the long game, slowly unraveling its mysteries like a well-worn novel—just enough to keep you hooked while leaving plenty of threads dangling to pull you into the next episode. The series is a masterclass in world-building, introducing you to its magical universe in a natural and almost organic way. You don’t get bogged down in endless exposition; instead, you discover this world alongside Diana, which makes the journey all the more immersive.

Thematically, the show’s depth lies in its exploration of identity and heritage, which is woven seamlessly into the narrative. Diana’s journey of self-discovery as she uncovers the truth about her lineage is not just a plot device; it’s the beating heart of the series. Her struggles resonate on a personal level, offering viewers a reflection on the often tricky path to self-acceptance. These themes also parallel broader cultural conversations around identity and self-discovery, making the show’s exploration of heritage and acceptance particularly resonant in today’s society. Matthew’s battles with his nature as a vampire add another layer of depth, turning what could have been a standard supernatural romance into a poignant meditation on embracing one’s true self, flaws and all.

A Few Hiccups: Pacing Pains

If there’s one chink in the armor, it’s the pacing. About halfway through the season, things start to speed up—almost too quickly. The pacing, particularly in the second half of the season, accelerates at the expense of crucial character development, such as the rushed transition from Diana’s abduction to her rescue. These narrative shortcuts dilute the emotional impact, leaving specific plot points feeling underdeveloped. This rush disrupts the overall narrative coherence and affects the emotional connection to the characters, making it harder for viewers to invest in their journeys fully.

Final Verdict: A Supernatural Triumph

A Discovery of Witches Season 1 is a triumph of supernatural storytelling. It’s a show that doesn’t just ride the coattails of its genre—it reinvents it, offering a sophisticated, emotionally resonant narrative that’s as enchanting as it is exhilarating. Sure, the pacing could use a little fine-tuning, but that’s a small price to pay for a series that delivers such rich rewards in terms of character, theme, and sheer visual splendor.

Whether you’re a die-hard fan of supernatural romance or someone who appreciates intricate character development and lush visual storytelling, A Discovery of Witches stands out as a show that casts its spell early and never lets go. It’s a series that promises not just escapism but an emotionally rich and visually captivating journey that leaves viewers eagerly awaiting the next season.

[imaginesofeverykind]

Witches Brew ~ Chapter 2

Summary: To practice magic is to slight God with the devil's embrace. It is evil, sin, consuming and the price one pays is never worth what one seeks. Yet people, in times of desperation often turn to desperate measures, in Aegon’s case, medicinal remedy is not an option. No healer can undo what has been done. But the Hag tucked away behind reeds, water topped with algae and the voracious bog may be able to. For a price.

Warnings: Catholic-Centric monotheism demonised, language, 18+ Minors DNI

Tags: DnD Fusion AU, Targaryens are just noblefolk, more vagueness

Word Count: 5k

Chapter Song: Harbinger - Kiki Rockwell

Yurisa and Ornmir aren't in a DND pantheon I just made them up for the purpose of the fic!

Series Masterlist

The power of words came from the ability to heed what is said, the Holy word of God revered by many and feared by others denounces the practices that don’t abide his word. Yet, your words — the words of a heretic, a pagan, a ‘devil worshiper’ — haunted the brothers, resounding in disembodied whispers cruelly reminding them of the events that transpired in wake of a seemingly ordinary day.

Neither spoke of what happened, in fear that speaking it outloud would make it a reality. It almost felt as though they shared a deranged and highly realistic dream that stubbornly did not disappear into the back of their consciousness when they were awake. A nightmare they were forced to reckon with when their Lord Father fell mysteriously ill, an infection that appeared seemingly from nowhere had him bedridden for a tenday.

His left eye had begun to fester and rot away.

Troublesome as the sudden ailment came, it all but made the brothers’ blood run cold when they soon realized the eye that had begun its necrosis would have been the same side on Aemond’s if he lost it that day. He did lose it that evening. And then a miracle — dark blood magic — brought it back. This had been the price. The saying ‘Eye for an Eye’ appeared to be most taunting in this instance.

Cycles of the moon that once meant nothing but something to measure time with became a looming presence for Aegon. A beacon of light in the night he looked onto with resentment and disgust where it once bore witness to his acts of sin and debauchery. Each phase a creeping reminder that he must return back to the decrepit hut, a threat he considered hollow until he felt the pull of the moon the closer to full it became.

The swamp surprisingly looked more harrowing during the day, perhaps it were because under the shield of darkness the night brings, many creatures were hidden away. The afternoon sun seared through the treetops, warming the marshy waters and in doing so lifted a pungent odour, souring the deeper into the bog it got. Sulfur fumes so strong it was hard to believe the sounds of nature indicated life thrived blithely, undisturbed in the thick mud pits, reedy bushes or trees when it so easily brought tears to Aegon’s eyes and made his lungs burn.

Fungus, abnormally larger than the toadstools that littered the edge of the Kings Road sat in halo’s of spores it created. Demanding reproduction and relentlessly over taking the grounds of which they grew, the damage a single spore can do to an entire ecosystem of plant life once it infected a single limb of a plant.

Nature was hideous and beautiful, harrowing and wonderous, unforgiving yet forgiving all at once. Amongst it all, as if tying the cacophony of life, death and all that sat in between nature oscillating and constant; A blissful humming. So subtle it was almost easy to miss the gentle caress in the area getting stronger, coaxing more fervently as it neared the epicentre of the swamp. 

The Elder Tree and the Hut entwined in its roots.

“Hello little lordling,” You appear behind him, but Aegon doesn’t jump. Almost as if he were expecting you to be exactly there. The same presence that plagues his thoughts, you could tell how restless he had become over since you last met. A smile pulls at your lips, tauntingly smug, “the moon is not full and yet here you are. Five moons early.”

He regards you slowly, though out of fear or caution you can’t quite tell until he speaks, “my father has fallen ill.” There is no sadness in his voice, no guilt, no indication that he is upset by what you’ve done to ensure his brother became whole again. 

You drag your feet toward him with a tilted head as you stare into his eyes of Violet, curling a hand around his jaw to look at him with far more scrutiny, your fingernails like thorns into his skin. Part of you is disappointed, the younger brother seemed to be a far more amusing moon servant with his boiled temperament, but when you look into Aegon, you see someone far less self involved — self serving perhaps but not one who uses a holy shield to look down on those who refute one God. 

He is as much a sinner as you were but for different reasons.

“That is the price, to meddle with the forces of nature.” You muse, taking away the hand that clawed into his soft cheeks, crescent moon indentations mark where your fingers had previously sat. Head tilted once again, you inspect his rugged appearance, the dark circles under his eyes and how stringy his hair looked. Leagues different in comparison to how he had looked the last time he had enlightened you with his presence. The moon gives and the moon takes, just like magic, just like nature.

”I didn’t come here to hear riddles, hag.” His lips downturn into, what you could only assume was, a frightful grimace with his brows casting downward. Haggard in appearance wasn’t the only change you could note, where he had last been in the clothes of a nobleman now he was wearing commonfolk garb. Though you are inclined to believe this is his choice to do so and not an artifact of disowning from the Lord and Lady of Oldtown.

“I’ve jokes if you would rather,” you smile tauntingly, though he looked less than amused on account of his eye twitching with an ire you had only previously seen with his brother. It must be the Moon. Though you don’t concede in your jest,“forgive me, I was under the impression you were the fun brother.”

He snapped, grabbing the scruff of your cardigan and pulling you up off your feet with a strength that seemed to surprise even him briefly, “there is nothing fun about what you did to me.” His eyes were wild, animalistic like he might just snap a little further over the threshold of man and monster. This anger appeared foreign on him, you could tell. The creases worn into his face like ridges in a tree were that of someone forlorn and closely recognised misery as a friend, not someone who was quick to anger and enmity. His ire was not of desperation as you had seen once before, it was an artificial plague of your making by bestowing him the curse of the moon in your actions of removing it from his brother. 

As if reading his thoughts you shake your head, “I cannot undo what has been done.” You have said this many times to many different people who seek you out, an echo of the woman who raised you, as she would say the same to similarly lost souls. This time it filled you with feelings distant to you but not entirely unheard of, it stirred a deep sorrow that you could not understand the origin or why. 

“Why not?” His grip loosened, a crack in his voice indicated that he will not lose himself to the beast that lives inside his very being now.

“What is taken, must be returned. Your brother's eye was returned to him, but only because it was taken from someone else,” his father, you don’t need to say as he is sure enough to understand on his own, “the curse bequeathed to your brother removed, but only because it was parted onto someone else.” You, Aegon. Your eyes watch his with great interest, his pupils begin to shrink and the violet in them return, and a faint whisper that barely passes as a thought but still registers in your mind are three simple words that shake you to the core: I’m so sorry.

***

Blood curses on their own are incredibly hostile in nature, to meddle magically with the very rivers that bring a soul life, is to be inherently evil. You recall the night of your eleventh winter, the moon at its highest and forever etched into your memory was that it was red. A Blood Moon. Auntie, (as you referred to the woman who raise you as despite her being anything but) would regale you with stories of the various cities she had visited, the travels she would get up to and despite the discrepancies in her timelines you would always listen with a grin on your face and wide eyed.

While the Moon was the symbol of the wolves, the goddess commanded her soldiers and servants when it was at its fullest. A Blood Moon was the symbol of petrifyingly beautiful harbingers of death, lustful creatures seeking blood to keep their souls appeased and their hunger satiated. Though, to your recollection, you weren’t sure what a moon decorated in a blue hue meant and who served the Moon when she turned blue.

The bones of your beloved childhood pet ferret laid out before you indicated troubling signs for the evening's full moon, it warned of uncertainty and danger. “Gods be good,” you whisper and gather the bones of the late Yurisa, you had named her after the Goddess of Winter aptly because of the fur as white as snow. The Goddess of Winter was known to be cruel and calculating, worshippers often regarding her as the Mistress of Atrophy, for when she brought her touch upon the land, it withered beneath her.

To you, Yurisa was merely a name to call your furry companion. 

Now you are well and truly alone. No Auntie left to gently guide you through the mystical arts or teach you kindness and compassion. No more Yurisa to cuddle up with when loneliness crept up like a misfortune or to scuttle around your feet when you went foraging for ingredients. It seemed as though you were destined to be alone, abandoned by a mother, abandoned by another and left alone when death crept up and seized the soul from your small companion.

Perhaps that may have been the reason your thoughts lingered to mournful and sorrowful when lamenting on the impromptu visit for the lordling Aegon days prior. The same reason that voice whispered to offer mercy the night the brothers arrived. Though, you could lament no further out of frustration of not getting any answers and by happenstance due to Aegon’s arrival.

His footsteps were weary, despite being at the hut for a third time, though the weight with each carefully placed step had an adjustment to its cadence that piqued your interest. Blood curses with transformative properties were cruel and unusual on the body and the mind, the ebbings of change often appearing in those infected a few days before and after the Full Moon. It was already taking a toll on him. 

You opened the door at the moment he raised his fist to knock, startling him slightly though you don’t notice behind how disheveled and unwell he looked, “little lordling.”  

Through his tired eyes rimmed with red from exhaustion, he narrowed them, “stop calling me that.”

“Would you prefer Moon Servant? Wolf Pup?” You are hardly smiling or even joking for that matter, as you stepped aside and waved him through.

”Just Aegon is fine,” he grumbled, compared to last time his anger was at a low level — still foreign on him but low nonetheless. His face was more sunken in, hollowing at the cheeks and under eyes as if he were more skeleton than flesh. One of many unfortunate side effects he was about to endure and he was none the wiser about how awful it was about to get for him.

By the hearth you boil water and whisk around your cupboards for the right ingredients when the question in your mind suddenly fell past your lips, “how are you feeling?” It felt like a mistake to ask such a question, as it often is only asked when endearing someone, “the pain, I mean. Fevers? Anything out of the ordinary?” You quickly add, while fussing about the pot of boiling water and various ingredients swirling in a maroon brine.

”I feel…” He had to think about it, eyes lifted to inspect the ceiling while thinking, “I feel like I’ve been hung, drawn and quartered. Though I s’pose that is meant to be normal right, witch?” His tone laced in a particular type of venom, calling you a witch as if it were derogatory but it was nothing except a label of what you are. Sorceress, Enchantress, Hag, Witch — they all meant the same thing; Heretic.

You remind yourself that as far as he was aware, he was not here of his own free will which was far removed from the truth. The lapse in your wrath the night you had crossed paths with him had you wavering conviction and offering mercy. That mercy being that he would not have to face the Moon’s Curse alone and could do it in a place that concealed him far from the eyes of the many zealots within the walls of Oldtown.

Extending a clawed hand out, you gesture for him, “show me your fingernails.”

”Why?”

”If I wished ill fortune on you or even death, I’d have done it by now, no? Show me your fingernails.” You grew impatient.

He reluctantly holds out a hand for you to grab. Unexpectedly, they were red raw around the nail but not because of the impending transformation, this was purely habitual, a very human trait that indicated he was nervous and anxious often. The nails themselves though, were beginning to blacken at the nail bed and were more hardened than what was normal.

Holding one of his hands steady, you manifest a small jar of medicinal salve and begin to lightly swipe it over the affected areas. It wasn’t going to lessen the pain of his impending transformation, but it would help stave off infection. You feel his gaze on you, not hard or weary, rather just inspecting carefully as you silently tend to his fingers.

”Erm — I’ve had joint aches and mood swings. I haven’t eaten either.” He admits shrewdly, the violet in his eyes washing away from colour in his iris slowly. It felt rather ludicrous, hearing his ailments like he was a patient and you were a healer. Though to a degree you may have been just that, even if the circumstances were very different. 

You don’t answer him, merely nodding and turning back to your boiling concoction, opting to add a touch more Docrut ash before scooping a cup full of brine into an aged bowl. It is not grand nor lavish like what Aegon may be used to, but you didn’t care, offering it to him, “drink. It will help with the pain.”

Lifting the bowl to his lips, he grimaced with flared nostrils and took a gulp only to immediately splutter it back out and cough it all over you. Unsure if he was being overdramatic or he simply wished to indignify you for his shortcomings, nevertheless, you wiped your face of his spit silently.

”That tastes like piss,” he gagged, covering his face and mouth as though it would shield him from the steaming brew in his hands.

”I never said it would taste nice,” you smile with slight amusement, “though if you forgo what is helpful simply because of its taste, I can assure you, you will regret it come morning.” He was an interesting individual, thrust into a circumstance out of his control and yet finding ways to nitpick it like the true highborn soul he was. 

“Perhaps if you hold your nose and drink it won’t taste so bitter,” you offer, remembering when as a child how much you despised the mushroom bark stew Auntie made. She would tell you the same thing, because out in the Swamp you either ate what was given to you or went hungry. Choice was not a luxury you grew up having.

He seemed taken aback by how childish you sounded, or, you thought, it was because you had said something that wasn’t inherently monsterous in his eyes. So you decide to bite a little, a smile curling at your lips, “what? Even us Hags have to eat disgusting things despite ourselves… I’ll drink some with you, if it helps.” 

You scoop yourself a bowl, holding it up as if mocking a ‘cheers’ and bringing it to your lips. He wasn’t wrong at all, it smelt awful, eye wateringly awful and as pungent as the acrid scent of the swamp outside. Gods, don’t think about the swamp water. Yet, with a pinch of the nose to seal your nostrils shut, you tilt the bowl up and begin to drink. Eyes flicking over to Aegon who is dutifully following despite the exaggerated expression of disgust.

”See,” you cough and wince as the brew burned your throat and assaulted the senses, “it wasn’t so —,” an onslaught of coughs prevent you from finishing the sentence, though when you came too it wasn’t the fact that he had finished his bowl that came as a surprise. It was the simple and disturbingly pleasant fact that he was actually laughing - at you, yes - but laughing nonetheless. 

The feeling of delight, something as plain as hearing him laugh sent troubling waves of nausea within you. Stop that, you insisted to yourself for thinking too long on such a factor but unfortunately for you it seemed to imbue you with a sense of being. 

“I’m pleased to know it isn’t poison at least,” he jests half heartedly, setting the bowl down on the table beside him. His moment of weakness, laughter, subsided and his walls were back up, though as you look out the window you are reminded that he will very much be a very different kind of man soon, and even more come the morning.

There was still some time left before a long night began, a question that had been plaguing you since that night a month ago and had never found a suitable answer by speculating, “why did your brother get attacked that night? The Lycanthropes in the swamp… They are usually docile because of Ornmir.”

He looked over at you, brow raised in confusion that was met with your annoyed sigh, “right of course — The Swamp Spirit, she has domain over this area, nurtures the land and watches over the creatures.” You explain as if it were the most obvious answer, but recognise you were being unfair on someone who most likely had no idea there was a spirit of the swamp.

There’s a moment of slight humour back in his eyes, a scornful snort exhales from his nose as he laughs dryly, “I suppose then this fabled ‘spirit’ is responsible for the attacks on the nearby village then? A beast descends on a village to kill their livestock, that feels rather opposite to being watched over and docile, like you said?”

”hm,” you hum momentarily, letting his words settle, “perhaps it’s God’s will then?” You weren’t mocking him specifically, rather his family and those who sought to eradicate the magic in the world. The surrounding village’s littered on the outskirts of the swamp were often benevolent in the few times you had passed through to get seeds or fruit, yet the cathedral spires of Oldtown were a beacon that infected many people with prejudice and it reached as far as the closest Village.

Ornmir’s domain was relatively benign despite the creatures that reside, so it did strike you as odd that something had been thought to attack the villages, just like it struck you as odd that an attack happened to Aegon and his brother. Though, your question would remain unanswered for a while longer with the light fading to blackness settling outside of the hut’s windows.

It was always darker in the marsh long before the Sun had fully set, which was natural given the thick cover provided by trees taller than Oldtown's giant Cathedral. Though nightfall would turn within mere minutes, and with that, Aegon would be more monster than man. With great haste you beckon him outside of your hut and take him behind the Elder Tree. A lantern in one hand to illuminate the way and an old dagger in the other.

The humming that vibrated throughout the swamp seemed to permeate from the very roots of the Elder Tree; it was the largest and most intricate looking tree in comparison, even shrouded in darkness. Around it, the ground littered with moss and deceptively hidden soft mud that would encase your foot had you taken a wrong step.

You close your eyes and listen softly, to the wind and its direction, to the symphony of creatures and bugs that coexist within the heart of the marshy swamplands, the humming that never ceased. The moon was on the rise. You felt it, like a presence that made the hair on the back of your neck stand, like a feeling deep within the pit of your stomach. Many serve the Moon, but all life somehow feels its pull.

“Aegon,” you address with a softer tone than necessary, “this may very well be the worst thing you will ever go through. It’s excruciating. It’s difficult. You will begin to recede back, as though no longer in control because you won’t be in control yet will feel, see, taste everything. You’re a shattered soul belonging to two now. A man and a beast.” 

A Primal beast that will exist on urges that would make men weep at the thought.

”We are going to have quite the night together I believe,” you smile wearily, bringing the obsidian dagger to the palm of your hand and cutting deeply into it. He grimaced at the sight of crimson dribbling down your forearm, but in the macabre lighting of the lone lantern and a cluster of fireflies you watch his eyes wash away all violet colouring.

Black consuming even the whites of his eyes, you gave him a playful smile, one that certainly wasn’t appropriate for the situation at hand and darted off through the swamp

***

Lycanthropy is one of the few curses that shattered both body and soul, and contrary to what is believed that the only instance of change occurs under the full moon, the blight is a month long ailment. To have bones, tendons and muscle rip, warp and rearrange to a completely different structure was harrowing enough to watch, though scholars tend to only source that this happened one night per month. 

Mending bones and muscle was no easy feat, nor was it something that could be done in a mere day. Especially under someone’s first transformation. Aegon had slept for a day and a half before awakening to what you could only assume was the worst pain ever to be put through. 

He complained, immensely, but you took that as a sign of him feeling better than anything to be annoyed about. Two days after the full moon his fingernails had finally regressed to their normal sizing, and both his hair and eyes had a semblance of life brought back into them. 

You had forgotten how nice it was simply having another person around, not even just to talk too, but another presence that made the hut feel less lonely. Though, you remind yourself that much like your Mother, Auntie and Yurisa — loneliness appeared to be your curse to bear.

”I promise this tastes better than it looks,” you hand over a bowl of seemingly beige modge podge that looks less than enticing and more like vomit. Aegon immediately grimaced but seemed to have caught himself and shook it off, probably in hopes that you didn’t notice. But you did.

His eyes widened in surprise when he shoveled a tentative mouthful of the unappealing looking soup, “this is delicious, what’s in it?” 

Snake and Eel. Against your better judgment you decide to refrain from telling him, lest he lose his appetite, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” A sly smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you tend to the daily chores around your abode. His watchful gaze never felt intrusive or rude, it was your understanding that he merely enjoyed people watching though he hadn’t said it, it was your own reticent observation that led to that deduction.

“You are strange, witch.” Without a hint of malice in his voice, it may have been the first compliment you received from him, one that you gladly took on. Invigorating you in a way that was unexpected and worrisome. Auntie had warned you that you had a tendency to grow attached too easily, a facet that rang true for all the creatures you helped mend themselves when they were injured or the travelers that passed through that you assisted her with helping them. 

“Strange is good,” you smile earnestly at him, and though your mind was yelling for you not too, your mouth opened on its own accord, “Bramble… Auntie called me Bramble because that's where she found me.” Though you refused to elaborate when he gave you an inquisitive glance. The memory of Auntie was somewhat sacred, that was something you wished to keep to yourself above all.

”An even stranger name…” he murmured, as though in his thoughts and you weren’t supposed to hear that. 

The remainder of the morning went as such, light chatter that felt more akin to a strategic game of droughts learning a small thing about the other as the morning progressed. He was a first born of four, wildly incapable of the pressures and responsibility of a first born, liked to drink his body weight in Ale and Fine Wine and was horrid at day to day tasks as you came to learn when he attempted to help you with something as mundane as hanging freshly washed linen out.

”Good lord what the fuck is that?” His exasperated tone caused you to turn, his eyes fixated in the distance and a finger pointed at the flying abomination in the air near a cluster of identical looking creatures. Features that looked not of this world, making it appear as though it was the gruesome victim of alchemistic cross breeding, beady eyes and a rat like face of a bat but its body looked like a giant mosquito.

You looked at it, unfazed and turned back to what you were doing, “Stirges, awful creatures…” While the flying monstrosity didn’t worry you, its presence did unsettle you greatly, having not seen a nest of them so close by before. Something strange was happening and it had started from before the night of the lycanthrope attack. You wished to know what events occurred that caused such a chain reaction. An attack on a human, an attack on the village and now an incursion of horrible blights that aren’t native to the lands.

“Aegon,” you slowly lifted your head to meet his gaze which was already fixed on you, “why were you in the swamp the night your brother was attacked?” It felt as though you asked this question several times before and never got a real answer out of him or the conversation naturally diverted elsewhere. 

While he was mostly open about his admissions already, you could sense him hesitate to answer this question. Perhaps he was gifted at deflecting and that was why you hadn’t received an answer for your question yet. Though the trepidation was not for lack of honesty or a need to conceal the truth, his eyes glassy and a slight tremble in his lip indicated guilt more than anything.

“Whatever is eating away at you, is not my concern. The reason is all I care for. Something isn’t right.” You hum, the nagging feeling eating away your insides like a looming sense of dread that was hard to pinpoint and it alarmed you grately that it took this long to figure out something strange was afoot. The humming of the Swamp droned gently, undisturbed and constant and yet there was a disturbance, over by the reedy shallows where the Stirges set their nest up. It was as though they came undetected, unseen.

He sighed, drawing your gaze to him, a look of shame and guilt marred his face, “I want not for ownership of the land, nor title or to become a Lord… but such is duty,” he was resentful and cutthroat, as if the word duty was an unholy word to be spit out. “Yet my father forces upon me what I push away — it’s my fault Aemond was hurt, he should never have been out there.”

Aemond, you repeat in your head, finally putting a name to the younger brother you healed a month ago.

“The village, Watercroft, asked my father to rid them of the beast that started killing their livestock and I was supposed to lead the hunting party. I would not do as he said, I cannot,” he looked away, gritted teeth as he spoke about his father like poison to the tongue. You couldn’t blame him, since you’ve lived in the Swamps his father has ruled Oldtown and whilst the locals revered him for peace, you had vehemently disagreed.

“So I drank, complained and let Aemond take the lead — he’s the one who deserves the power, the title, everything. And we’ve heard stories about beasts within the swamplands from travelers and locals, but this was different. A monstrous scourge that devoured six of our men whole before I sobered up enough to realize what was going on. Aemond.. he… he grabbed me and we ran… right into a den of Direwolves.”

You shake your head correcting him, “not Direwolves.” 

“Right.” He agreed quietly.

His story, while jagged and a mess to make sense of slowly began to click into place for you. It was unsettling at best and at worst borderline apocalyptic for the ecosystem within the Swamp and all the land around. There was only one beast in the Swamp capable of doing what he had described and that was Ornmir herself, in her natural corporeal form as a Swamp Drake. But this revelation only offered more questions than answers, the biggest one more alarming than any other speculation you had gone through prior to this.

Why was the spirit of the Swamp so angry?

~~~~~

Tag List: @karlachs-soldier @serving-targaryen-realness @deltamoon666 @bogbutteronmycroissant

If you want to be tagged let me know :DDD

[magntx]

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄     𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂  ,     𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑     𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍!

bold  whatever  applies  ,  italicize  what  sometimes  applies.

𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜  𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫.       /       gaslights.  corsets.  ballrooms.  candlelight.  mist.  starless  nights.  full  moons.  cobbled  streets.  horse-drawn  carriages.  mysterious  strangers.  bogs.  moors.  forests.  mountains.  castles.  velvet.  silver.  brass.  gold.  jewels.  domino  masks.  the  opera.  dangerous  romances.  tragic  romances.  violins.  roses.  lilies.  empty  graves.  crosses.  cemeteries.  snow.  ice.  the  gallows.  crows.  milk-white  skin.  ambiguous  illness.  fangs.  pointed  nails.  something  howling  in  the  night.  capes.  gloves.  top  hats.  straight  razors.  lightning.  pipe  organs.  underground  caverns.  bats.  mice.  rats.  ravens.  cats.  pearls.  attics.  talismans.  axes.  wood.  isolation  in  a  room  full  of  people.  vampires.  werewolves.  ghosts.  coffins.  southern  europe.  western  europe.  eastern  europe.  bones.  churches.  catacombs.  mausoleums.  books.

𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜  𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫.        /       black  and  white.  powder  puffs.  red  lipstick.  winged  eyeliner.  white  kitten  heels.  black  lace  lingerie.  icy  blue  eyes.  rain.  abandoned  cars.  skeletons.  acid.  poison.  voyeurism.  switchblades.  strangling.  overcoats.  looking  over  your  shoulder.  trans-atlantic  accents.  private  detectives.  dinner  parties.  haunted  mansions.  alcohol  in  glass  decanters.  cobwebs.  perfect  blonde  curls.  kitchen  knives.  shock.  cellars.  dust.  ghosts.  dark  alleys.  empty  streets.  driving  at  night.  horn-rimmed  glasses.  radiation.  zombies.  serial  murder.  suspicion.  paranoia.  the  city.  witches.  the  devil.  cannibalism.  conspiracies. amulets.  abject  terror.  the  american  south.  the  american  northeast.  england.  analog  cameras.

𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬.       /       bloodbaths.  massacres.  wanton  nudity.  newspapers.  leather  jackets.  letterman  jackets.  converse  sneakers.  obscured  faces.  social  unrest.  bonfires.  lakes.  babysitters.  suburbia.  high  school.  lockers.  dead  leaves  in  the  fall.  jack-o’-lanterns.  outdated  television  sets.  nightmares.  psychiatrists.  hospitals.  unstoppable  forces.  gunfire.  police.  landline  telephones.  household  objects  turned  into  improvised  weapons.  halloween.  secrets.  revelations.  character  masks.  scrunchies.  queerness.  wild  curls.  jeering  children.  parties.  fire.  swearing.  revulsion.  california.  the  american  midwest.  ambulances.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥  𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫.       /         malevolent  spirits.  seances.  spells.  missing  bodies.  curses.  hidden  graves.  white  noise.  static.  flickering  lights.  rings  of  salt.  demons.  poltergeists.  dark  histories.  old  buildings.  cold  air.  mausoleums.  wells.  urban  exploration.  a  dog  barking  at  something  you  can’t  see.  black  ooze.  old  photographs.  faces  you  can  swear  you’ve  seen  before  but  can’t  for  the  life  of  you  figure  out  where.  dark  bodies  of  water.  crucifixes.  priests.  possession.  exorcisms.  dolls.

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐝  &  𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐧  𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝  𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫.       /       aliens.  blinding  light.  dark  woods.  driving  at  night. claw-marks.  bite-marks.  men  in  black.  memory  loss.  dismembered  bodies.  sewers.  flashlights.  cell  phones.  video  cameras.  cars  with  tinted  windows.  unlabelled  cassette  tapes.  bugs.  big  cities.  urban  crimes.  clowns.  something  rustling  outside  your  window.  glowing  light.  unsolved  mysteries.  suburbia.  mirrors.  the  american  pacific  northwest.  the  american  midwest.  hiking  /  backpacking.  

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬.        /        daylight.  fluorescent  lighting.  morgues.  asylums.  unwavering  eye  contact.  tension.  lit  rooms  with  no  one  inside  them.  a  dog  digging  in  the  newly-planted  flower  bed.  steely  gazes.  paperwork.  anagrams.  codes.  convicted  killers.  missing  persons.  law  enforcement.  federal  agents.  small  towns.  suspicion.  paranoia.  subdued  terror.  dimly-lit  parking  lots.

tagged by: @roquish <3

tagging: @witchkillr, @hexsreality, @onlyarogue, @alwaysxinxtrouble, @abovedivinity, @belayadeaths and anyone else that wants!! steal it!

[worldsfinestknights]

MUSE AESTHETICS:  HORROR EDITION.

BOLD WHICHEVER APPLIES TO YOUR MUSE, REFORMAT AS NEEDED. REPOST; DON’T  REBLOG.

Tagged by: @esoptron

Tagging: Steal it from me; I'm so bad at choosing people. XD

I decided to do this for the dark knight himself, Mr. Bruce Wayne, because. Well. Y'know. It's very him. XD

CLASSIC.

black and white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. ghosts. dark alleys. empty streets. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. suspicion. paranoia. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets.  abject terror. analog cameras.

I needed to expand upon the the devil piece, because. Y'know. This is italicized, because it's for my Bruce/Riona AU almost exclusively, but. Riona's ex-husband/best friend, Luke Milton, whom Bruce grows very close to and respects and just genuinely enjoys his company is possessed by the devil, and Bruce finds this out by tracking the thing that's been killing and ending up in a fist fight with Luke on the roof of some building in Gotham. (This is also how Luke finds out Bruce is Batman, and the devil realizes that it may have miscalculated many, many decisions.)

CRYPTID  &  URBAN  LEGEND.

aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw marks. bite marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. hiking. backpacking. cabins. dead ends. amusement parks.

GOTHIC.

gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. milk-white skin. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. gloves. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. books. creaky floorboards. petticoats. lavish staircases. dead languages.

PARANORMAL.

malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering light. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at unseen things. iconoclasm. black ooze. old photographs. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls. piles of stones. garbled EVPs. distant whispers.

SLASHER.

bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. babysitters. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. passing shadows. outdated television sets. nightmares. psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. cut wires. character masks. scrunchies. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. ambulances. dial tone. running water.

THRILLER.

daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms. empty rooms. killer in plain sight. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots. a noise in the distance. a heartbeat. power outages.

[peridoodletea]

Hey!! Been a super long time since I've posted, but I never stopped drawing! Got super into D&D over the pandemic, so here's a very incomplete collection of some of the characters I've played! We got a pink half-dragon (homebrew race) child bard, a gross bog witch (this was for the Worlds Without Number system!), a fey warlock sheep-person (another homebrew race lol), an amethyst dragonborn psionic ranger (homebrew subclass), a tortle grandma monk, a satyr trickster princess, AND a gijinka of the Pokemon Minior which I played for a Pokemon Mystery Dungeon-themed game! I uhhh like homebrew LOL It's nice to be back! I have lots more to post, so keep an eye out!

[creature-wizard]

https://youtu.be/U8NNHmV3QPw?si=6aInyR5QVTAT3z0R Watch if you're bored but you might be surprised 🤷🏻‍♀️.

It's about spirit science

GHJKSD when you said this video was about Spirit Science, I thought you were gonna like, link to a video talking about how the Spirit Science guy Jordan Duchnycz is a rapist or his weird obsession with Emma Watson or his antisemitic claim that Jews come from another planet. I didn't expect you were going to link to like, an actual Spirit Science video.

In brief, what Jordan's putting out here is straight-up baloney. A lot of it's pretty bog-standard New Age pseudohistory based on unsubstantiated conjecture, misinterpretation of various mythological traditions, and shit somebody just pulled straight from their ass. Not only is there no actual evidence to support any of the stuff he's putting out there, the actual evidence we do have inevitably precludes it.

Here are some links that explain why and how we know that people like Jordan are just wrong:

The Sirius Mystery: did the Dogon know about Sirius B?

The Truth About Atlantis

Atlantis @ Bad Archaeology

The Weird Case of Atlantis-Mu in the Madrid Codex

Lemuria, the weirdest continent that never existed

Naacal @ Wikipedia

Close encounters of the racist kind

The Ancient Astronaut Hypothesis Is Racist And Harmful

Zechariah Sitchin @ Bad Archaeology

"The Emerald Tablets of Thoth": A Lovecraftian Plagiarism

Left- vs. Right-Brained: Why the Brain Laterality Myth Persists

Are the Egyptian pyramids aligned with the stars?

Criticisms of Drunvalo Melchizedek @ Wikipedia

Detailed deconstruction of the "face" and pyramids on Mars claims

"Christ" @ Wiktionary

"Allah" @ Wiktionary

Charles Hapgood @ Wikipedia

It’s better light, not worse behaviour, that explains crimes on a full Moon

Sphinx water erosion hypothesis @ Wikipedia

Egyptian Hieroglyphs @ World History Encyclopedia

Predynastic Period in Egypt @ World History Encyclopedia

Sumer @ World History Encyclopedia

Debunking the Myth: The Council of Nicaea and the Formation of the Biblical Canon

First Council of Nicaea @ Encyclopedia Britannica

Did Jesus Go to India? A Modern Gospel Forgery

Also, the fact that Jordan appeals to channeled information is a massive red flag. Channeling is fun and sometimes produces some interesting things, but a source of reliable information it is not.

He also claims that a pole reversal makes the planet start spinning the other way, which is literally not how pole reversals work at all.

And of course, Jason's claim that thirteen powerful families are controlling the world is that general conspiracy theory shit derived from The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, early modern witch panic, and blood libel. The whole thirteen families thing in particular comes from Fritz Springmeier, a far right conspiracy theorist who proudly cites other hateful kooks like Edith Starr Miller and Alexander Hislop and basically claims anything that isn't good wholesome Christian entertainment is actually Satanic programming.

Basically, Jordan Duchnycz is just another New Age conspiracy theorist pushing the same old garbage as loads of others like him.