#bewitched set...entry i

[evermourning]

𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 - bang chan

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: fluff, comfort, slice of life, based off "must be love" by laufey

wc: 0.8k

warnings: neck kisses (non-sexual), use of nicknames (baby, sweetheart), language

now that you had someone you could call your own, it was like time stopped.

you were used to not much going your way, like the world had it out for you. it was some sort of sick fucking joke, like a dark raincloud hanging over your fate and covering up all that was good. you learned to code with it. that was how you lived.

until chan came along, of course.

he was the warm ray of sunshine you needed to push the melancholia inside you away. immediately, you could tell something was different. this guy was just full of so much love, it seemed surreal. intangible.

now, months into a relationship with the supposed man of your dreams, you missed him miserably. he sat absorbed in his work, the studio forming a impenetrable fortress that took away any means of self or time...and you sat in traffic.

whenever you were with him, the bad things faded out of view, and when you weren't near his remedial presence, they quickly made themselves known once again.

however, your boyfriend had taught you to appreciate the little things in life. you were composed, calm as you settled into the remotely soft car seat and looked out your window. the sky was like a canvas, warm colors with hues of reds, oranges, pinks, and yellows danced across the dimming sky as the sun bid its final goodbyes...until it would return joyously the next day, like clockwork.

when you finally arrived home, much later than anticipated, you opened the door to the smell of spices and a delicious and piquant scent wafting from the oven, and your boyfriend hard at work in the kitchen.

"you're back!" he said, grinning. carefully setting down the wooden spoon, making sure not even a single drop stained your counters. "i was beginning to worry, you didn't even send me a text..." he faked a pout, only causing your smile to widen.

"i'm sorry, the sunset was so mesmerizing tonight, baby. and i was stuck in traffic." seeing his incredulous glance, you let out a tiny chuckle. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry! in my defense, i thought you were holed up in your studio again, so i assumed you wouldn't even be here..."

"can't do that as much anymore," he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. "my baby would miss me too much."

you laughed softly, closing your eyes and feeling yourself get lost in the moment as chan pressed soft kisses along your collarbone and neck.

the little moments like these were the ones where you let yourself go, succumbing to the tranquility of the time spent with him.

you'd fallen so hard, you realized. sometimes you couldn't even believe he was your lover, feeling more akin to some silly school crush whenever you'd get all tongue-tied from his rampant flirting.

this was something more than a crush, though. this feeling of a blooming flower, spreading its vibrant petals far and wide throughout your heart was new. and you...liked it.

...

"where the hell have you been? you're almost alway busy nowadays!" your friend nagged on the phone. "don't tell me that no-good boyfriend of yours is monopolizing all your time...." you tuned her out as her incessant cacophony of yapping made your ears ring. instead, you chose to focus on your boyfriend's eyes, two serene pools of melted chocolate, filled with an elixir of love only for you.

"you're so damn pretty." he commented, staring at you, his lips stretched into a goofy little grin. "i wanna write another song about you."

"another?" you asked, hanging up on your friend. the silence felt heavenly. "you've been writing quite a bit recently, sweetheart...don't you think your fans will start to notice?"

his grin widened.

"see, that's my master plan. i keep all the recordings on my special laptop. therefore, i'll have them without the fans knowing. just for the two of us." he cooed, giving you a quick yet loving kiss. "you should go see ms. screech owl, now. i don't want to prove her point and monopolize your attention...although i really wish i could."

his words played on your heartstrings like a talented violinist, as usual. nowadays, he conducted an entire symphony inside your heart, driving you absolutely crazy.

nearly every waking moment, you felt euphoric, stuck inside a wonderland just for you. chan inhabited every waking thought of yours, and you just couldn't shake him. when he wasn't with you, it felt like a piece of you wasn't there. when he was with you, you felt like you were on cloud nine.

this wasn't normal, you concluded. there was only one possible answer to the scenario you'd entangled yourself in.

this was love, wasn't it?

#ren writes <3 #evermourning #skz #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader #bang chan #chan x reader #skz fluff #bang chan fluff #bewitched set...entry i

[wholesomefluffdaddy]

Wednesday's new court mandated therapist is having her keep a journal of her thoughts and feelings. Wednesday finds this to be a complete waste of time and decides instead to use it to record her observations of her unusual roommate Enid Sinclair. Wednesday POV.

——————————————

Entry 3

Current Moon Phase: First Quarter 🌓

Whether it is the moon or possibly the month of October, Enid's behavior is becoming increasingly more erratic and nonsensical. She interrupted my studies with indecent enthusiasm as she heard a song playing on the radio. She turned up the volume unnecessarily before loudly announcing it was 'the song of her people.' She then proceeded to dance and howl along to the music. The song in question was 'Werewolves of London.' I am unfamiliar as to how this particular song connects to greater werewolf culture other than the word 'werewolf' being in the lyrics.

Out of curiosity I observed her dance from the corner of my eye. It was enthralling. Fascinating. Had I not known any better I would have mistakenly assumed that it was a dance to attract a mate. There is a possibility that it was and she was merely practicing. It was a silly dance that perfectly encapsulated Enid. However, at some point it stopped being silly. Her claws were lengthening and the wild untamed look in her eye had me-

I feel compelled to document, while tangentially related to the events I'm currently recounting, that Enid remains uninvolved in romantic relationships at present. I wonder as to why that may be? This is purely from a scientific standpoint as it may lead to some insight on my current observations of her. I too am single. I only bring this up as I only recall Enid courting others while I myself was being courted. Perhaps Enid remains single out of some sort of solidarity with me. However, I think that would be a rather foolish notion. And yet…

Returning to the documentation at hand - as the song ended so too did Enid's dance. I gave her a passing glance to which she responded by grinning widely, showing her lengthening fangs. Was it intentional? Her claws were out as well. So far I have observed that as the moon continues to grow Enid is more prone to small shifts, i.e., growing her fangs and claws. Perhaps it is unconscious?

Another song came over the radio that I was quite familiar with. Struck with a sudden inspiration I set aside my book and rose from my bed. Enid seemed taken aback. I proceeded to display my own courting dance. I do not know why I felt compelled to mirror her behavior but it yielded some rather interesting results. Enid's pupils had dilated significantly. It had a very strong resemblance to that of a cat when it has spotted its prey. The thought of being Enid's prey-

The werewolf appeared content but restless as she watched. Apparently she was trying to restrain herself. However, it wasn't long before she joined in the dance. Her fangs were on full display as were her claws. It was a bewitching sight I must admit. At one point she grabbed my hand, which startled me at first. I instinctively withdrew but my action was not without consequence. It evidently wounded my werewolf Enid greatly, for her eyes told me all.

In an effort to rectify my mistake, and continue my research, I decided to claim Enid's hand with my own. The change in her disposition was instant. The light behind her cerulean eyes was like a burning pyre. It drew me in, likely as some sort of hunting tactic, as before I knew it the werewolf's other arm was around my waist, pulling me closer. Had she wanted to end my life then and there she surely could have. Those fangs would have easily been able to rend the flesh from my bone.

My internal thoughts were perhaps made public through my facial expressions as Enid grinned wider. A state of delusional merriment filled me as we continued our frivolous dance. This unfortunately did not go unnoticed. Enid decided to exclaim loudly the obvious 'Oh. My. God. You have dimples!' I was unaware that the movement of the skin over double zygomaticus major muscle was worthy of note. Our dance concluded just as the song did.

Enid released me, as I was no longer her prey, and she bounded back to her side of the dorm. She said she would have to add 'Psycho Killer' to her playlist. I assume this is because she wishes to have a way to placate me. As I have asserted before, I believe Enid has consciously or unconsciously considered me a member of her 'pack.' I shall have to research this matter further as I wish to be an adequate member of such a social group. Perhaps the only social group I would willingly partake in.

#ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday x enid #wenclair #wednesday is oblivious #wednesday is soft for enid #wholesomefluffdaddy

[a-freemaniac]

We meet the doctors for the first time.

And Dr. Holmes certainly made an entrance.

Not that kind of " wow what a guy " kind of entrance but more the " what the f..." kind of entrance.

But we first meet John, a thing I love and prefer in stories because he is always the best entry into a new story.

Like a really good supporting act on a festival right before the more interesting but arrogant superstar arrives.

John is a warm up who makes you feel cosy and secure and together you wait for the storm.

And the storm arrives indeed.

Dr. Sherlock Holmes new medical superstar a patent already made and sold, is he the new neurosurgeon and within weeks he has a reputation for being rude, difficult and brilliant.

The brilliance is as obvious as the arrogance and John is equally surprised and annoyed.

But he is also a tiny little bit fascinated and is not quite sure why...

They work and clash in the OR one day and while others are intimidated by Sherlock’s behaviour is John simply annoyed and says so.

In a contest of getting the upper hand John is our winner.

We getting glimpses of the real Sherlock a bit later when he proceeds towards John again and ask for help.

Here we see a shy and insecure man who is obviously wrestling with a truth he keeps very well hidden, and we see the huge amount of trust in John approaching him in that matter.

A very moving part and what I call 

a man child moment.

Because Sherlock is a very sensitive person and John is obviously the only one he can go to which makes the moment precious and yet sad.

Sherlock’s confession being on the spectrum is groundbreaking.

For Sherlock, John and the story.

Sherlock is clearly ashamed and telling John this because he needs his help to make a medical failure accusation going away is a huge deal for a man who likes to be seen cold, talented and untouchable.

I love that all the thoughts we readers might have are in John's head too.

John is our conscience, our bond to Sherlock early knotted but unbreakable already.

Together they go and investigate a little to help Sherlock’s case, a case I won't go into detail because if you haven't read the story yet I'm not going to spoil the fun for you.

But the help John offers comes with a payback.

That's at least what Sherlock thinks and acts accordingly and much to John's surprise I might add and to mine:) 

Here we see a first behaviour of Sherlock that seems unusual and inappropriate but it also seems he simply doesn't know better and he doesn't have these natural social skills that forbid us to act in such a direct manner.

No right or wrong or any judgment coming from my side.

This is just what I observed.

And so did John luckily and doesn't give up on Sherlock, although after certain events Sherlock is back at his usual cold self with a brick wall around his emotions.

But good old John finds a way and he also realises that he finds himself attracted to the new neurosurgeon star.

And slowly but constantly they find a way towards each other because Sherlock opens up for the first time and John sees behind the mask of arrogance and indifference.

This first piece sets the standard and the curiosity for more.

I was lucky enough to discover the series after Jill completed it.

So I didn't have to wait lol.

Reading this first part and knowing there will be more makes you wonder what will happen and how this story will heading and you know for sure that you are in for a ride:) 

Link to the series here:

@inevitably-johnlocked @7-percent @jbaillier @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @discordantwords @lostinsherlock44 @8redskittles @axl-is-stoopid @jobooksncoffee @johnlockiseverywhere @kettykika78 @cvdiee @manyofnine @jazzthecat00 @pucketdog @deelaundry @neinknives @helloliriels @dizzyone55 @thetimemoves @bewitched-bullet

#bbc sherlock #johnlock #alternate universe #fanfiction #appreciation post #'review #sherlock holmes #john watson #medicine #neurosurgery #on the spectrum #yougotomyhead

[gghalcyon]

Bucky Barnes gets a bewitching Halloween treat when Sarah Wilson appears at his doorstep, her face lit up with a brilliant smile. “Trick r’ treat!” she said as their eyes met in a heated gaze.

Title: A Taste So Sweet | Bucky Barnes x Sarah Wilson | Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier | Rating: Mature | Words: Part 1/1 (2328 Words) | Prompt: SarahBucky @fleurdelouvemonth and @fleurdelouve - Week 1, Day 1 Prompt: “Halloween Candy”

Bucky watched in disbelief as group after group of children and teens dressed up as monsters, superheroes, witches, and fairies trooped past his house. He had initially been excited about joining in the festivities surrounding Halloween. Still, he was now feeling overwhelmed at the sheer number of trick-or-treaters that kept anxiously jostling at his front door.

He could hear Sam's voice ringing in his head, telling him to stock up on treats ahead of the evening's activities. On impulse, Bucky had gone to the store and purchased enough candy to fill an entire cauldron - more than enough for the small army of costumed kids parading up his walkway.

After living in New York City for a few years, he was unaccustomed to experiencing Halloween like this. New Orleans' proximity meant that Halloween was taken very seriously here. His neighbors went all out with scary decorations, and some even hosted light shows or static haunts in their garages.

It was the first time Bucky had experienced Halloween in his new neighborhood, and he could feel the excitement from both children and adults alike. He walked into the living room to look at the clock – it was 7 p.m.; he had a few more hours before kids would be done trick-or-treating. After making sure he had enough candy to last until 9 p.m., he set out a sizeable pumpkin-shaped bucket full of treats on a table near the entrance of his door, which he'd grab and provide the little ghouls and goblins who would come by.

One by one, groups of costumed children started arriving at Bucky's house. There were toddlers with their parents, gaggles of elementary schoolers, and even a few high schoolers. Bucky watched them all take turns selecting handfuls of candy from the white bucket he'd set out on the porch. He couldn't help feeling a pang of regret that he'd bought so much candy – but then again, it was worth it just to see how delighted they were.

The most recent group of trick-treaters waved him goodbye as they ran off to his neighbor's house to continue their journey for more candy. Just as he was about to close the door, he spotted a familiar face walking up the sidewalk towards him. It was Sarah, Sam's sister, donning a classic black witch's hat over her long hair and wearing a playful smirk on her face. Their eyes met.

Sarah stood before Bucky, her face lit up with a brilliant smile. “Trick r’ treat!” she said.

He was temporarily stunned by her beauty before composing himself.

"Hey! What are you supposed to be? Aren’t you old for trick-or-treating?" He joked, looking at her costume and wondering why she had come to his neighborhood.

"I'm old enough, thank you very much," She chuckled teasingly, sticking her tongue out playfully. Bucky noticed that Sarah was alone and asked about her boys AJ and Cass.

"Oh, I just dropped them off at a friend's place a few blocks away from here," She answered, grinning shyly as she revealed her true purpose: to visit him. "They're all trick-or-treating together, so I thought I'd swing by and see you."

Bucky felt his heart swell with warmth as he imagined her thinking of him. It was like a dream come true. He opened the door wider to welcome her in, and when she entered, they both erupted into laughter at the sight of all the candy bags he had bought.

"Okay, that's SO much candy! The kids will love you!" Sarah said, still stifling giggles.

"I'm trying to get rid of them," he said sheepishly as he directed her to the bowl on the entry table near the door.

Sarah laughed again at his over-preparedness before following Bucky to his kitchen, where he opened the fridge and asked if she wanted any refreshments.

"I have beer, apple cider, sparkling water..." She accepted his offer enthusiastically with a look of admiration.

"Oh, apple cider would be amazing!"

He twisted open an apple cider for her and handed it across the counter while opening himself a bottle of beer. Bucky could hear children's voices from outside, but there were no trick-or-treaters yet who had arrived and rang his doorbell. There was a small lull before another surge of trick-or-treaters came.

The two caught up so naturally. Bucky could feel an ease in their conversation as Sarah shared stories about her two boys deciding to be Sherlock Holmes and one a t-rex for Halloween. They even talked about the best costumes they've seen so far, reminiscing about their childhood trick-or-treating experiences.

As the night wore on, Bucky found himself completely entranced by Sarah's infectious laughter and sparkling eyes. They moved to the living room couch, sitting side by side in close proximity. He couldn't help but lean in closer to her as she spoke, wanting to absorb every word she said like a sponge.

Suddenly, they were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Bucky glanced at his watch and noticed it was getting pretty late - it must have been close to 10 pm already.

"Let me get that," he said quickly, feeling the familiar pang of disappointment when he realized their intimate conversation had come to an end. He stood up and took his bowl of candy before opening the door.

"Trick-or-treat!" A group of four kids dressed as Pokemon with their parents dressed as a Pokemon Trainer greeted him. Bucky smiled warmly and spoke kindly to the little elementary school kids, nodding in approval at their costumes and giving them generous amounts of candy.

Sarah peered over the couch to watch Bucky interact with the children and felt her heart swell with admiration. More and more trick-or-treaters kept coming until it seemed like the line would never end. At one point, Sarah decided to join Bucky in front of the doorway, giving out candy alongside him from a bag she took off the counter.

The line continued for a solid fifteen minutes until another lull came forth and no new trick-or-treaters came by. Bucky closed the door and joined Sarah on the couch as they both flopped down in exhaustion.

"Tiring, huh?" Sarah asked with twinkling eyes as she settled into the spot beside him.

Bucky gave her a sheepish smile and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. "It feels like it never ends…" He paused and added with a hint of mischief in his voice, "But I don't mind it too much when I have a beautiful woman by my side."

"I..." she was almost taken aback by his forwardness, then her smile widened, revealing small dimples along the sides of her mouth. "You could always just leave the bowl outside and just let them take whatever they want."

"You think that'll work?" His heart raced as he moved closer to her on the couch.

"I think so," she said, her voice low and sultry as she scooted close to him. She grabbed the bowl of candy and rummaged through it.

"Looking for something specific?" he asked her, amused.

"Hmmm... I'm looking for a Hershey's chocolate bar, the white chocolate one." Bucky watched her closely, admiring how graceful her long fingers were as they searched through the bowl.

"There should be a ton there, not many kids picked them when I let them select which candies to get." Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, and he felt drawn into her gaze.

"Are you kidding? They're so picky nowadays, huh?" They laughed together, and the room seemed to heat up exponentially with each passing second.

"Ah! I found one! I couldn't pass up all this free candy," Sarah teased as she pulled out a mini white chocolate bar. As she unwrapped it and took a small nibble, Bucky found himself mesmerized by those lush lips and the way they moved around the confection.

"Want a bite?" Sarah asked, catching his gaze and holding out the candy. She slowly bit the bottom of her lip before smiling at him innocently, but there was something else about her expression - an invitation - that made Bucky's stomach flip. He had been wanting to kiss those lips since he'd first seen them curve into that mischievous grin earlier tonight.

Heart pounding, Bucky's gaze slowly moved from Sarah's lips to her eyes. He leaned in, and instead of taking the offered candy, he brushed his lips against hers. They both gasped at the sudden contact, and as if this was a sign, their kiss deepened.

Sarah tasted like chocolate and felt so soft under his fingers as they explored each other's faces and bodies. His hands moved to her hips and pulled her closer until their bodies were flush against each other. Their tongues collided in a passionate dance of desire that left them both breathless when they finally pulled apart.

"That was..." Sarah whispered, trailing off with a sigh.

"Amazing," Bucky finished for her. The air was electric between them, heavy with unspoken longing that neither of them wanted to break.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang again and they jumped apart as if electrocuted, laughter bubbling out of them before they remembered why they were there. As Bucky went to answer the door, his mind was still on the kiss he had shared with Sarah moments ago.

As the night went on and more trick-r-treaters arrived and departed, the couple found themselves alone on the couch, close but not touching. Finally, Bucky spoke up. "Sarah, I know we've been friends only for a short time, but tonight...that kiss...I can't stop thinking about it." Sarah smiled at him from under her eyelashes, and he could see the same desire reflected in her eyes that he was feeling in his own heart. Without another word, their lips met again and this time it was slow and tender - like two puzzle pieces coming together after searching for so long.

Sarah gently pulled away from Bucky and pressed her body against his, her arms wrapping around his neck as though she never wanted to let go. "Bucky... I've always wanted to do this with you," she said softly.

As her lips met him, a spark of electricity coursed through her body. She felt the warmth radiating from his chest and the gentle beat of his heart as she pressed herself closer into him. The kiss grew more passionate with each passing moment, and Sarah felt an intense desire building inside of her.

She reached up to grasp Bucky's face in her hands and trace the outline of it with her fingertips. His long, wavy hair was so soft against her skin that she wanted to keep touching it forever. He repositioned them both on the couch, so she was straddling him with her legs on either side of his thighs.

Sarah could feel Bucky's excitement pressing into her, and his hands moved up under her shirt to explore the warmth of her skin. She gasped at his touch and dug her fingers into his back, wanting this moment to never end.

Suddenly, Bucky pulled away and looked deep into her eyes. In a voice full of longing he whispered "Sarah – I want you" and at that moment, all doubts fled from Sarah's mind - she knew this is what she wanted too.

Without another word, she pressed her lips against his once more and this time they were both overcome with passion. Bucky grabbed her hips and pressed her close to him, their bodies melting together as his fingers ran up her back before unfastening her bra, revealing her creamy skin beneath the moonlight that filtered through the window. She held her breath as his hands moved across her body, exploring every curve with delicate touches and sending sparks of pleasure through her veins. He left trails of fire over her neck as his lips traveled down before lightly brushing over one nipple, eliciting a soft gasp from Sarah's lips.

Just then, Sarah's phone started ringing, and the sound of it shattered the silence in the room like a gunshot. She wanted to ignore it, but she knew it was likely her sons calling to let her know they'd be ready to be picked up soon. With a reluctant groan, she pulled away from Bucky and grabbed her phone, which stopped ringing before she could answer it.

A quick glance confirmed it was indeed her kids, and a text message from her kid's friend's mom indicated that they were done trick-or-treating and ready to be picked up. "I don't wanna go," Sarah said with a sigh.

Bucky wrapped his strong arms around her, giving her a sad smile and planting a kiss on her forehead. His breath tickled her skin as he whispered gently, "Me neither," in response to her words, then attempted to lighten the mood with a joke about their unusual entourage. They both laughed, and Sarah could feel the tension melting like ice in the sun.

Bucky pulled her close and nuzzled against her neck, sending tingles of pleasure down her spine before she reluctantly leaned back from his embrace. She looked into his eyes and saw something that made her heart skip a beat – it was longing, familiar and yet fresh and new at the same time. Locked in each other's gaze, Sarah raised herself to capture Bucky's lips in a soft kiss.

She smiled as she pulled away from him and started gathering her clothes off the floor, nerves suddenly bubbling up inside of her when Sarah realized how bold she had been. Before she could put on her shirt, however, Bucky stood up and stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. He cupped her face tenderly between his hands and searched for something in her eyes.

"We'll have to finish this later," he murmured softly. Another shiver coursed through Sarah's body as she looked into his beautiful blue eyes, nodding in agreement to his suggestion before leaning forward to give him one last kiss goodbye.

Read More Stories @ Fanfiction Master List or G.G. Halcyon's AO3

#AO3 writer #sarah wilson #bucky barnes #sarahbucky #buckysarah #sarah x bucky #bucky x sarah #sarah wilson x bucky barnes #bucky and sarah #sarah and bucky #bucky barnes x sarah wilson #happy halloween #sarah wilson/bucky barnes #fanfiction #fan fiction #sarahbucky fanfiction #fleur de louve #fleurdelouve #sarahbuck #in love in delacroix

[misscammiedawn]

50 Days of HypnoFetish - Day 9: Music Control

Alignment: 70% Top or Observer, 30% Bottom

This is such a broad category and I am doubtful I can encapsulate all of the intricacies. I shall attempt it though.

So there are two sides to this coin. Compulsion and Allure.

For Compulsion think of Hans Christian Anderson's red shoes, think of musical episodes like Buffy's where people are forced to sing and cannot prevent it, think of music videos where the song compels the listener to surrender to the beat and the dancers must obey.

For Allure think of Music of the Night from Phantom, think of Mary Poppins singing for the children to stay awake or any other lullaby for that matter, think of siren songs and mind control music playing over the speakers.

In simpler terms. Half are moments where the music creates explosive reactions that cannot be contained and must be acted out and the other half are moments where the music silences all resistance and draws the hypnotee into soft submission.

Both. Both are good.

Somewhere in the middle are moments where the music seduces someone into dancing with the tender softness of the allure but the bold and undeniable action of compulsion.

For compulsions, I mostly enjoy seeing the atmosphere itself take control of a person's body. The way a body will just bob, bend and sway to a pulsing beat, especially with a trigger such as "when you hear music you'll be unable to stop yourself from dancing", even better if the person is aware of it and unable to stop themselves and better still if their resistance is washed away while fighting. Gosh I live for those moments.

The same for singing. Where it erupts from the hypnotee's mouth unbidden and the more they try to fight it back, just like a sneeze or an orgasm; the more it'll burst forth when the floodgates open. I have actually experimented with this a few times in private settings. It's mostly fun if you can just surrender any embarrassment and just go with the flow.

For Allure? I have been hypnotized by singing more times than I feel worthy of, given the talent required for it. I even have been programmed to sink into trance when I hear one obscure song and the hypnotist I was working with at that time had me sleep while listening to it. As far as I know it's still effective and that says nothing for Music of the Night.

Heaven knows I have had some incredible memories both recent and distant of being bewitched by that song.

God the physicality of that song in the show is tantalizing. Easily the most erotic song on broadway. Just look at the way Christine is guided, tempted and seduced by Erik during it.

Then you need only refer back to my puppeting gestures entry to remember how much I enjoy conducting people.

---

Day 8: Cognitohazards

FULL SCHEDULE MASTER POST

Day 10: Trance Edging

#hypnokink #50 days of fetishes #hypnosis #camden posting #suggestion suggestions

[so-called-yokai]

Another entry in the crossover between me and @lukas6246 that I'm now calling "Semi-Feral Polaroids". This one includes the sketch that inspired it, done of course by lukas, who I have bewitched into being just as weak for these two derps as I am. These drabble are so self-indulgent and I don't even care.

"Hey, E, have you seen my shirt?"

Eshra doesn't even look up from his book. "Leon, you have, like, eighty-seven shirts. You'll have to be more specific."

Leonardo wanders into the lair's tv area where Eshra is curled up on one of the giant beanbags that populate the space, his brow furrowed. "Wait, you actually counted th--" Then he stops, squinting suspiciously. "What's that?"

Eshra glances up just enough to look at the massive mutant turtle from the corner of one eye. He holds up the cup in his right hand so Leon can see it better. "Tea. You want some?"

The slider narrows his eyes further. "What are you wearing?" he clarifies.

His yokai partner looks down at himself and blinks, all innocence and light. "A t-shirt. It's sort of a cozy, inside kind of daaaa-- Leon, wait!"

Eshra barely has time to set his cup down before he finds himself swung into Leonardo's arms, shrieking with laughter as the turtle holds him aloft as if he weighs no more than one of his own tail feathers.

"Little thief," Leon accuses in a low, affectionate rumble, pairing the accusation with a soft bite on a particular spot on Eshra's neck, earning himself a pleased chirrup from the entirely unrepentant yokai.

"I wear it better anyway," Eshra declares saucily.

Leon snorts, beak still buried in the soft feathers of his mate's shoulder. "Yeah, you do."

#eshra's stories #my writing #leoshra #semi feral polaroids #sffl(wg) #lost & found au #future leo #rise of the tmnt oc #canon/oc #not my art #rise of the tmnt

[tyetknot]

King of the Witches - A Review | Chapter 2 - A Magic Childhood

King of the Witches Chapter Two – A Magic Childhood

Introduction | 1 - The Young Initiate | 2 - A Magic Childhood | 3 - The Haunted Hill | 4 - Call Down The Spirits | 5 - Bewitched

Thank you for joining me once again as I examine June Johns’ King of the Witches, a biography of Alex Sanders, founder of Alexandrian Wicca. In previous installments we looked at the Introduction and chapter 1 – The Young Initiate which detailed Sanders’ physically impossible initiation into witchcraft at the hands of his maternal grandmother who, as I explained in the last entry of this series, died 19 years before he was born. If you think that sounds ridiculous and absurd, well, strap in because there’s lots more coming.

Chapter 2 starts out telling us that Sanders was a quick study in the secrets of witchcraft (allegedly he learned to read at the age of 3) which he was taught by his grandmother after school. He would go to see her, ostensibly for lessons in Welsh, but after half an hour or so the language lessons were put aside and mystical secrets became the subject instead. The book tells us about him learning about the ritual tools:

“The runic symbols dating back thousands of years when prophets cast sticks into the air and, from the pattern they made in landing, foretold the future; the inscriptions on the witches’ dagger – the kneeling man, the kneeling woman, the bare breasts touching, the arrow speeding through the wheel of life down into the pointed blade, ready to strike at its owner’s bidding; the miniature whip, a harmless substitute for the earlier weapon with which members were scourged, sometimes to the point of death; and the glistening crystal, which fascinated him most of all.”

Now, we know of course that evidence for the use of runes in divination is skimpy at best, but the part that interests me here is the fact that the symbols described here for the athame do not quite match the ones commonly used for this tool from the Greater Key of Solomon, because the symbol representing the Perfect Couple is absent from that symbol set – its earliest source that I can find in print is from Huson’s Mastering Witchcraft which came out in 1970, after which we see it suggested in a modern and Wicca-specific variety of these symbols composed by Doreen Valiente, which is described in the Farrar’s A Witches’ Bible / The Witches’ Way (published 1984). It may be that King of the Witches is the first printed reference to this variety of the athame symbols. If anyone has earlier sources for this, please let me know!

The symbols for the athame from Huson’s Mastering Witchcraft. The symbol for the Perfect Couple is third from the right.

The black-handled knife from the Mathers Key of Solomon. The relevant symbol is the first one on the second row of the handle, and is very plainly the ancestor of that shown by Huson, but the Farrars say that Gardner’s explanation of these is a serpent representing life and a sickle representing death.

The bit about people being scourged to the point of death is obviously hyperbole.

We are also told of Sanders that “He learnt by heart the meaningless chants in a long-dead language” and practiced scrying into a bowl of water with a drop of ink in it. He foresees the birth of his sister Patricia, although this can’t have been too much of a shocker as she was apparently born three months later.

There are stories of visions he has of things that will happen to his schoolmates and consequences for childish mischief – apparently no scrying required! In addition to learning fortune-telling his grandmother also teaches him some rudimental theology:

“His grandmother had explained that there was only one God but that he was known by many names. It was easy, too, to accept that the Virgin Mary was the moon goddess in disguise.” I wonder if the Virgin Mary is as keen on castration as the Moon Goddess mentioned at the end of the previous chapter.

Grandmother Bibby regales the young Sanders with stories of Robin Hood, who was actually a witch who “used his powers to direct money where it was most needed, and to escape his pursuers.” This is rather obviously lifted from Margaret Murray, as is the book’s mention of Joan of Arc, “who was really the Witch Queen of France and unashamedly declared it by her dress in an age when witches were the only females who would wear men’s clothing.” Nonsense, of course. Margaret Murray cast a long and dark shadow.

Fortunately if someone was captured and sentenced to death, there would always be other witches hidden in the crowds at an execution who had smuggled drugs into the prison (obviously lifted from Gardner, this) and if not then they would hypnotize the victim with their magic powers.

Sanders learns herbalism from his grandmother’s teachings and also learns what each plant looks like from pressed examples his grandmother had kept in a book from when she was a girl – we are expressly told that there was barely even any grass where Sanders grew up. We also learn that his grandmother had been a member of a coven of four witches who at night went to an unnamed island in an unnamed mountain lake (belonging to witches since the Middle Ages) do perform rituals.

Sanders performs his first full moon ritual at the age of nine (so 1935 or so) where he also receives and consecrates his athame in a ritual nearly identical to Gardner’s method. Afterward he performs some manner of “calling down the moon”.

Keeping this double life secret poses some difficulties and he has some trouble after boasting to his friends that his grandmother owned swords and that he knows magic. He also starts assisting his grandmother with the rituals she performs to help sick neighbours who asked for help, and copying his own Book of Shadows using hers as a master. This was allegedly copied into an exercise-book and in the impossible event of Sanders’ story being true, I wonder what his explanation for what happened to it was. Possibly he re-copied it in a more adult hand at a later age? Doing this apparently allows him to advance his powers (because of more training? Because he has the athame?) and his grandmother lets him start using the magic crystal. His first attempt at crystal-gazing grants him a horrible vision of things to come, which we know is the aftermath of German bombings during the Second World War.

We learn that his grandmother gave him the witch-name Verbius and that hers was Medea. Now, this may be a bit of actual truth in Sanders’ account, for diFisoa in Coin For The Ferryman (2010) notes “Medea later meets Alex Sanders and makes a decision to initiate him on March 9, 1962.". Medea’s identity is still uncertain, but the prevailing theory is that this was Pat Kopanski. Sanders is following Gardner’s example here, in that Gardner used the conveniently dead Dorothy Clutterbuck as a cover for his working-partner Dafo. In the book Sanders asks his grandmother what would have happened had he never encountered her in a magic circle and she is unsure – she also says her own mother never knew she was a witch and neither did her own children.

He conjures up spirit children to play with (?) and is warned that using magic for selfish means will end in the magician’s destruction. His grandmother uses her powers to help her neighbours without their knowing, although this directly contradicts an earlier page where she uses her powers at their request.

The chapter, like the last one, closes with more grim portents of sadness to come.

#Wicca #Witchcraft #Pagan #Alexandrian Wicca #Alexandrian Traditon #Alex Sanders #Traditonal Wicca #traditional witchcraft #King of the Witches #Review

[llondonfog]

for now, the child dreams an elegy

sometimes when he sleeps, the curse sinks iron-laced tenterhooks into his veins and he dreams.

the scenery is strange, muddied shapes and empty voices that give no recognition to distinguish fantasy from memory. emotions are muted, dull things that swim sluggishly beneath the surface of his heart. and yet, when he wakes, he thinks he can taste the sour bite of a distant fear that hasn't come to pass.

and why, of all things, did the image of a castle barren of thorns or gargoyles come to mind?

last year on his birthday, lilia had presented him with what had seemed to be a book bound in smooth emerald leather, decorative scrollwork elegantly laid into the spine. the pages had been blank though when he had curiously flipped through it, only for his father to explain with a laugh that perhaps it would be interesting to know just what occupied his thoughts when he succumbed to his ever-present drowsiness.

"After all, the fae have been bewitching the dreams of humans since before even my time. Perhaps this might give us some insight into your condition, yes?"

as if he could ever refuse such an earnest request from his father, even if silver privately wondered at the value of such documentation when he could hardly make sense of the dreams that slipped through his fingers like the morning fog. but if anyone could, it would most certainly be lilia. like the sun rose in the east and set in the west, there was no fact silver was more certain of than that.

so, upon waking with the distant shrill of one of the various alarm clocks scattered about his dorm room still shrieking tinnily in his ears, he pulls himself together enough to sit at his desk in the early dawn hours before training, peering down at the worn journal though heavy-lidded eyes.

the majority of the entries were simple; an uneven scrawl of the date, with a confession beneath, 'I don't remember.' but as of late, even he can begin to put together the dots of a strange pattern. the last few pages chronicling the first weeks of the new school year all resemble each other. mentions of a castle that was certainly not malleus' princely residence nor night raven college, of hearing laughter that dries his mouth and drops cold stones through his stomach, of a strange bright and blinding light that streaks across the backs of his eyelids—

"WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE IF YOU DWADDLE ANY LONGER!"

ah. in spite of himself, a rare smile tugs half-heartedly on his lips as his pen wavers to a halt, unusually relieved to have been yanked from such disconcerting thoughts. who would have expected sebek's dulcet tones to be so welcoming?

"I'll be there in a moment," he calls in a much more normal decibel as the younger male continues to gripe outside of his door at silver's lack of morning punctuality, pushing the journal away much like the lingering dreams fading from his mind as he reaches for his gym uniform. the acrid odor of lilia's idea of a healthy breakfast begins to filter underneath his door, and silver can hear the gentle rustle of malleus' dorm jacket straightening as he bids sebek a neutral good morning, the first year's tone switching to utter reverence as if he hadn't been caught trying to singe silver's door by sheer willpower alone.

they were simply dreams, after all.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst silver #twst lilia #twst malleus #twst sebek #twst headcanons #lettie writes #twst fanfic #girl help #it's been so long since i've written for a fandom #come scream dia fam hc at me

[mediocre-eternity]

Hello. This is a website, or app, I’ve only been introduced to last night. I believe the entries are automatically dated but in case not, the date is 19 November, 2022. I’m unsure if anyone, mortal or otherwise, would be interested in interacting with a blog of mine on the internet. I’ve tried publicly posting online decades ago, when the internet was only just becoming a tangible thing. However, this app, as my good friend Benji calls them, seems more bustling than websites I’ve tried before. There’s a great deal of talking about various medias humans enjoy and I’ve already found writings musing over the books that were published by my dear beloved or my other good friends including my own. I’m not quite positive if young readers believe they are holding and reading from stories that the most intimate people in my life have suffered through. It’s amusing to read these analysis, theories and wishes. They’ve even read my own book and have some absolutely wild takes on who I am and what my writings are about. I suppose I wouldn’t be appealing to these children in real life and I’m curious of what they might think of my actual writing; not something I’m merely dictating to somebody who casually asked.

My name is Armand, currently. I am a vampire over five centuries old. I live on Night Island off the coast of Miami, Florida and have for the greater portion of about fifteen years. I live with my most beloved, who is my fledgeling Daniel and one of my dearest, Benji. For right now, we don’t do much but contemplate the restoration of our Island. It is our little sanctuary, our self made Heaven for a crowd of demons. It’s quiet for right now as we work on some reconstruction which is probably why I’m bored and wanting to write again. I have a great habit that hits me every few decades to read and consume and write and I suppose I’m on that kick. Benji pointed Tumblr out to me because he finds the website entertaining but also easy to find anything you might want to look at. I already found a lot of artwork and it works well on the phone I’m currently using which is an iPhone 14 pro. I tried to tell Daniel about it but he didn’t seem so interested. Daniel loves using the internet for information and rarely explores social media. He says he doesn’t mind if people can’t find him and something about how he’s lucky that other vampires haven’t come for his head because he was the one who originally published some of our books; Interview with the Vampire being the most important. I don’t think many other immortals make the connection, though. Daniel is so unassuming until he explains to others who he is.

Right now, besides the Island, my focus bewitched on Daniel and has been since we’ve returned to the Island. Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. He is my most patient, most civil and most kind. I reconnected with him within recent years and I’ll tell you all about that soon enough but for tonight I’m only thinking of the present. It is past ten o’clock but he still hasn’t risen. In the Blood, he hasn’t been the best at rising as soon as the sun sets. He blames me, with a smile on his face of course. He tells me it’s my fault for dragging him around for years when he was still mortal and never letting him get any sleep. Fair enough, I suppose. I like to see him rest. I like it when he awakens a bit disoriented but always finds me somewhere in the villa and is so delighted to see me. He’s always eager to hunt with me, to talk endlessly to me when we hunt. He’s always asking a million questions about my kill. It’s absurd to me now that I ever let my maker be the one who hunted with him nightly and be the one to teach him all the intricacies of murder. It really should have been me because it’s become so intimate. Daniel is so small in the Blood and so fragile that I want to tuck him into a little porcelain box and watch him from outside the box resting within the palms of my hands. Now that the link between our minds has been severed, I view him even more fragile. It’s a shame. It makes me cry all the time and Daniel abhors when I cry. But, yes, he’s still a little out of sorts when he awakens for the evening but his wandering mind is becoming more and more present as years past. In fact, he really has been quite independent. For most of the time, he’s incredibly present and lucid. I cherish this because my own maker claims Daniel’s restoration was mostly from his help but when I found Daniel again he was more ragged than he was when I left him, at least according to Daniel.

I’m rambling and if anyone finds this blog they’d be greatly confused as to why I’m so concerned with my fledgling’s mind. That’s so funny and you , reader, should absolutely read the chapter my dear friend Lestat wrote in his book Queen of the Damned called “The Devil’s Minion.” That’s a pretty amusing, albeit brief and insipid tale of how Daniel and myself met. Maybe don’t read Blood and Gold until you get to know us better. Strange book. Anyway. Tonight I think my plans for Daniel are to admire the water or have him watch shows with Benji. Yes, me and Daniel could have our walk by the ocean and maybe I’ll go swimming and he’ll watch me but he never wants to go as deep as I go, just watch and study the wildlife and rocks and shells. And he’ll pick up a shell he likes, like he always does, and put in on a random shelf or windowsill or in his coffin. For now I listen to my music and write as I wait for him to wake and then find me. So I suppose that’s all I have to write. I know I want to read, it’s compulsive, but I wouldn’t dare want to cease to exist within a book and miss hunting with my most beloved. So this is all.

#TVC #the vampire armand #the vampire chronicles #Anne rice #armand #amadeo #devil’s minion #Daniel Molloy #queen of the damned #IWTV #interview with the vampire #go easy on me I haven’t written in like a million years please lol #journal entry

[dollycas]

Saturday Giveaway - Death by Smoothie (A Jaine Austen Mystery) by Laura Levine #Spotlight / #Giveaway

Welcome to Saturday Giveaway!

Death by Smoothie (A Jaine Austen Mystery) Cozy Mystery 19th in Series Setting - California Kensington Cozies (November 29, 2022) Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 240 pages ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1496728165 ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1496728166 Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B09TX133GL

Freelance writer and long‑time Ben & Jerry’s addict Jaine Austen uncovers murderers on the mean streets of Beverly Hills, with a little help from her snarky cat, Prozac, in this witty mystery series from acclaimed TV comedy writer and novelist Laura Levine—a lighthearted treat for cat cozy fans and readers of Joanne Fluke, Miranda James, and Laura Childs. The Bewitched knockoff I Married a Zombie may have flopped in its day, but it’s got a devoted cult following. Jaine is delighted when one of those rabid fans hires her as script doctor for his new play based on the show—until she reads the awful script and meets Misty, the actress who’ll be playing Cryptessa’s role. Misty has Audrey Hepburn’s doe eyes but not a smidgen of her ability. Yet she can certainly act the diva, demanding a special smoothie every day at 3pm. Meanwhile, Jaine is grappling with another spoiled female—her uncooperative cat, Prozac, who’s refusing to be wrangled into a kitty harness for outside walks. When someone spikes Misty’s signature drink with a fatal shot of rat poison, the cast of suspects extends far beyond the theater. What Misty lacked in talent she made up for in enemies. Everyone Jaine talks to maintains their innocence, but one of them is clearly only playing the part. And it’s up to Jaine to figure out who, before a killer schedules an encore performance . . . About the Author Laura Levine is the author of the Jaine Austen Mystery series and a comedy writer whose television credits include The Bob Newhart Show, Laverne & Shirley, The Love Boat, The Jeffersons, and Three’s Company. She lives in Los Angeles and can be found online at JaineAustenMysteries.com.

Thanks to the publisher I have 1 ARC paperback copy to give away! The contest is open to anyone over 18 years old with a US or Canadian mailing address. Duplicate entries will be deleted. Void where prohibited. You do not have to be a follower to enter but I hope you will find something you like here and become a follower. Followers Will Receive 2 Bonus Entries For Each Way They Follow. Plus 2 Bonus Entries For Liking My Facebook Fan Page. Add this book to your WANT TO READ shelf on GoodReads for 3 Bonus Entries. Follow Kensington Books on Twitter for 2 Bonus Entries! Follow Kensington Publishing on Facebook for 2 Bonus Entries! Pin this giveaway to Pinterest for 3 Bonus Entries. If you publicize the giveaway on Twitter or Facebook or anywhere you will receive 5 Bonus Entries For Each Link. The contest Will End July 22, 2023, at 11:59 PM CST The winner Will Be Chosen By Random.org The winner Will Be Notified By Email and Will Be Posted Here In The Sidebar. Click Here For Entry Form

Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent Read the full article

#California #cozymystery #Kensington #LauraLevine

[dr-simple]

Moby Dick

Entering that gable-ended Spouter-Inn, you found yourself in a wide, low, straggling entry with old-fashioned wainscots, reminding one of the bulwarks of some condemned old craft. On one side hung a very large oilpainting so thoroughly besmoked, and every way defaced, that in the unequal crosslights by which you viewed it, it was only by diligent study and a series of systematic visits to it, and careful inquiry of the neighbors, that you could any way arrive at an understanding of its purpose. Such unaccountable masses of shades and shadows, that at first you almost thought some ambitious young artist, in the time of the New England hags, had endeavored to delineate chaos bewitched. But by dint of much and earnest contemplation, and oft repeated ponderings, and especially by throwing open the little window towards the back of the entry, you at last come to the conclusion that such an idea, however wild, might not be altogether unwarranted.

But what most puzzled and confounded you was a long, limber, portentous, black mass of something hovering in the centre of the picture over three blue, dim, perpendicular lines floating in a nameless yeast. A boggy, soggy, squitchy picture truly, enough to drive a nervous man distracted. Yet was there a sort of indefinite, half-attained, unimaginable sublimity about it that fairly froze you to it, till you involuntarily took an oath with yourself to find out what that marvellous painting meant. Ever and anon a bright, but, alas, deceptive idea would dart you through.—It’s the Black Sea in a midnight gale.—It’s the unnatural combat of the four primal elements.—It’s a blasted heath.—It’s a Hyperborean winter scene.—It’s the breaking-up of the icebound stream of Time. But at last all these fancies yielded to that one portentous something in the picture’s midst. That once found out, and all the rest were plain. But stop; does it not bear a faint resemblance to a gigantic fish? even the great leviathan himself?

In fact, the artist’s design seemed this: a final theory of my own, partly based upon the aggregated opinions of many aged persons with whom I conversed upon the subject. The picture represents a Cape-Horner in a great hurricane; the half-foundered ship weltering there with its three dismantled masts alone visible; and an exasperated whale, purposing to spring clean over the craft, is in the enormous act of impaling himself upon the three mast-heads.

The opposite wall of this entry was hung all over with a heathenish array of monstrous clubs and spears. Some were thickly set with glittering teeth resembling ivory saws; others were tufted with knots of human hair; and one was sickle-shaped, with a vast handle sweeping round like the segment made in the new-mown grass by a long-armed mower. You shuddered as you gazed, and wondered what monstrous cannibal and savage could ever have gone a death-harvesting with such a hacking, horrifying implement. Mixed with these were rusty old whaling lances and harpoons all broken and deformed. Some were storied weapons. With this once long lance, now wildly elbowed, fifty years ago did Nathan Swain kill fifteen whales between a sunrise and a sunset. And that harpoon—so like a corkscrew now—was flung in Javan seas, and run away with by a whale, years afterwards slain off the Cape of Blanco. The original iron entered nigh the tail, and, like a restless needle sojourning in the body of a man, travelled full forty feet, and at last was found imbedded in the hump.

Crossing this dusky entry, and on through yon low-arched way—cut through what in old times must have been a great central chimney with fireplaces all round—you enter the public room. A still duskier place is this, with such low ponderous beams above, and such old wrinkled planks beneath, that you would almost fancy you trod some old craft’s cockpits, especially of such a howling night, when this corner-anchored old ark rocked so furiously. On one side stood a long, low, shelf-like table covered with cracked glass cases, filled with dusty rarities gathered from this wide world’s remotest nooks. Projecting from the further angle of the room stands a dark-looking den—the bar—a rude attempt at a right whale’s head. Be that how it may, there stands the vast arched bone of the whale’s jaw, so wide, a coach might almost drive beneath it. Within are shabby shelves, ranged round with old decanters, bottles, flasks; and in those jaws of swift destruction, like another cursed Jonah (by which name indeed they called him), bustles a little withered old man, who, for their money, dearly sells the sailors deliriums and death.

Abominable are the tumblers into which he pours his poison. Though true cylinders without—within, the villanous green goggling glasses deceitfully tapered downwards to a cheating bottom. Parallel meridians rudely pecked into the glass, surround these footpads’ goblets. Fill to this mark, and your charge is but a penny; to this a penny more; and so on to the full glass—the Cape Horn measure, which you may gulp down for a shilling.

#text post

[billlockyer]

Unlocking the Enigma: Dive into the World of Favorite Mystery Novels

Introduction:

Mystery novels have always captivated readers with their intriguing plots, suspenseful narratives, and enigmatic characters. From classic detective stories to modern thrillers, the genre has left an indelible mark on the literary world. In this article, we explore a selection of favourite mystery novels that have stood the test of time, drawing readers into a labyrinth of suspense, puzzle-solving, and unexpected twists.

I. The Golden Age Mysteries: Unraveling Classic Whodunits

The Golden Age of mystery novels, roughly spanning the 1920s to 1940s, marked the emergence of iconic detective characters and intricate plotlines. Agatha Christie's "Murder on the Orient Express" (1934) introduced readers to the brilliant Hercule Poirot, who faces a perplexing murder aboard a luxurious train. Similarly, Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Hound of the Baskervilles" (1902) sees Sherlock Holmes untangling a web of supernatural occurrences in the eerie moors of Devonshire. These timeless classics continue to bewitch readers with their meticulous detective work and unexpected denouements.

II. Psychological Thrillers: Unsettling the Mind

In the realm of psychological mysteries, Gillian Flynn's "Gone Girl" (2012) reigns supreme. This modern masterpiece delves into the dark complexities of a troubled marriage, weaving a tale of manipulation, deceit, and shifting perspectives. Flynn's intricate plotting and unreliable narrators keep readers on edge, questioning the truth until the final pages. Another notable entry is Dennis Lehane's "Shutter Island" (2003), where a U.S. Marshal investigates a disappearance on a secluded asylum island, only to confront his own sanity. These gripping psychological thrillers probe the depths of the human psyche, leaving readers enthralled and haunted.

III. International Intrigue: Uncovering Global Secrets

Transporting readers across continents, international mysteries offer a taste of different cultures and a global perspective. Steig Larsson's "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" (2005) introduces Lisbeth Salander, a brilliant hacker embroiled in a complex investigation that unravels dark family secrets. Set against the backdrop of Sweden, this novel combines suspense, social commentary, and unforgettable characters. In Umberto Eco's "The Name of the Rose" (1980), a Franciscan friar investigates a series of murders in a medieval Italian abbey, revealing political and religious conspiracies. These international mysteries offer readers a passport to thrilling adventures in unfamiliar territories.

IV. Cozy Mysteries: Embracing Quaint Whodunits

For readers seeking a lighter and more charming mystery experience, cozy mysteries provide the perfect escape. Agatha Christie's "Miss Marple" series, featuring the sharp-witted elderly sleuth, delights readers with quaint English village settings and clever observations. Titles such as "The Murder at the Vicarage" (1930) showcase Christie's knack for intricate plots wrapped in a cozy atmosphere. In Alexander McCall Smith's "The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency" (1998), readers are transported to Botswana, where the delightful protagonist, Precious Ramotswe, solves crimes with wit and compassion. These cozy mysteries offer a comforting and engaging reading experience.

Conclusion:

Mystery novels have a unique ability to enthrall readers, offering them the chance to become detectives themselves, piecing together clues and solving puzzles. From the classic whodunits of the Golden Age to the mind-bending psychological thrillers of the present day, the mystery genre continues to evolve and captivate. Whether you enjoy intricate unravelling plots with iconic detectives, delving into the depths of the human mind, exploring international intrigue, or embracing cozy and charming tales, the world of mystery novels holds a treasure trove of captivating stories waiting to be discovered. So, grab a magnifying glass, turn the pages, and embark on an unforgettable journey into the realm of mystery.

[theunderneath67]

Part 1 – Reinvent: Yourself!

~I~

A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness; A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction; An erring lace, which here and there Enthrals the crimson stomacher; A cuff neglectful, and therebe Ribands to flow confusedly; A winning wave, deserving note, In the tempestuous petticoat; A careless shoe-string, in whose tie I see a wild civility: Do more bewitch me, than when art Is too precise in every part. —Robert Herrick, Delight in Disorder

A full perigee moon provided the singular light on the otherwise cool, still blackness that hung over the grounds of Castle Tarleton. The stillness of the gloom outside belied the frenzy of activity inside the manor itself. Honora, the eldest princess of Lord Tarleton, was to be wedded the next day to a nobleman and business partner of the Lord. Thusly, last-minute preparations were alight in virtually every room of the palace.

The bride and her court stayed in the parlor going through chests of jewelry for the perfect bauble for each of them. The maidens poured over petite diamond pendants searching for their reflection in the pure, precious, crystal clear gems. Honora, herself, searched for the large sapphire brooch her mother had worn at her wedding to Lord Tarleton. The parents of the bride sat in the main dining hall going over the definitive guest lists and seating arrangements ensuring no family or representative was left out (or let in) inappropriately and that their place at the tables was appropriate for their social standing.

 In the kitchen, where the menu has been set for months, the final dishes were being prepared and counts were being checked and rechecked to ensure there would be more than enough to go around. Kegs of beer, mead, and wine imported from the inns, vineyards and breweries of the local towns were brought by the steward’s stout young servants through the back service entry two-by-two down to the vaulted undercroft of the great hall. The boys winding their way through the chairs, banquet tables and benches that were being set up and artfully arranged by the housekeepers and their attendants. The chaplain prepared his remarks and the order of events for the ceremony and his assistants prepared the chapel for the nuptials.

For all of the hustle and bustle of the planning festivities, one member of the wedding party was noticeably absent. The lady-in-waiting had begged off the festivities for the pains of her monthly courses. She had quickly and absently chosen a random amethyst bauble from the jewelry chest and politely excused herself to attend her malaise to the quiet concern of her family, friends, and employers. Truthfully though, Elizabeth Forrester didn’t feel particularly unwell or pained. Quite the contrary, excitement flushed her body. She nearly floated up the roughhewn stone stairs to the rooms on the upper level. Elizabeth was not in need of some cure to womanly ills; what she needed was a reason to get away, to be alone and unescorted.

Once Elizabeth reached her suite, she quickly slipped inside and locked the door behind her. She moved a small letter desk to block the door… just in case. She strode to her bed quietly and fully undressed. Running her hands along her fully exposed body Elizabeth couldn’t help but admire the femininity of her curves and imagined how it must feel for a man to have these curves for the first time. She wasn’t a particularly conceited girl by nature, but Elizabeth Forrester knew that… her gifts… well, these gifts anyway, were abundant and desired. She slid beneath the sheets of her bed and tried to sleep lightly to change her mood from the frenzy of the events going on downstairs. Unfortunately, her anxiety about the next day… and some lingering guilt about leaving her friends in a moment of such importance… left any sleep elusively just out of reach.

She rested nude in her bed in that hazy space between asleep and awake patiently hoping for the man to come. Though her mind was foggy and dreamy in the dim environment, her body’s excitement was apparent in its shallow, rapid breaths and its inability to still itself for more than a moment at a time. A light rain misted in through the open window of her castle bedroom until well past midnight; a gentle breeze blowing the lace curtains in with each gust casting dancing shadows on the walls. Her full voluptuous body was cool in the night breeze. Save for a row of lit devotional candles that lined the mantle of a small fireplace situated across the room, the glowing full moon, once again, provided the only light in the room.

Suddenly a large shadow passed through the window quickly. It wasn’t the drapes blown in from a strengthening wind. The shadow was tall. It moved with the fleetness of a whisper. The slowly worked his way across the wall. Skimming past the painted landscapes and sconces that lined the wall, the shadow floated across the floor to the side of the room where the bed was positioned. Stopping in front of the painting of some long dead duke, he studied her for the moment. She lay, mostly, exposed to him. A sheer cotton sheet was her only cover. The girl’s face was beautifully pale, her flowing red hair and pouting ruby red lips contrasting perfectly. Her large breasts hidden under the sheet with hard deep pink nipples prominent through the fabric. His gaze continued over her soft ample round belly to her luscious voluptuous hips that peeked from underneath the covers, luscious thick thighs that rose to a full patch of that same red hair. Her thick delicious legs splayed to either side of the bed. He loomed for the moment admiring his prey. This is the one, he said to himself and returned to his deliberate gliding gait toward Elizabeth.

Coming to the foot of the girl’s bed he emerged from the darkness. Her eyes fluttered and she could make out the shadow. Her eyes took in his full height as it towered over her. Elizabeth was still unsure if she was dreaming as she gazed upon his wide frame and broad shoulders. His entire countenance seemed impossibly overwhelming. The shadow’s bald head gleamed in the moon’s radiance lending light to a long face and a flowing full beard that hid a strong steel jawline. The form’s coal black eyes pierced straight through Elizabeth’s soul. Those same ebony eyes framing slits of deep crimson pupils.

The shadow clambered onto the bed and straddled the girl. Despite his immense size and weight, she still lay in that restless haze only partially aware that he was really there. His mouth went to her neck and Elizabeth moaned. The shadow began sucking at her soft neck, licking, kissing, and sucking the supple ivory skin. Slight sighs escaped Elizabeth’s lips as she gradually emerged from her fog to become fully aware of the presence.

“You came, “she purred and pulled his mouth firmly to her neck.

The shadow did not respond but continued to suckle at her neck while the pulsating of her carotid artery temptingly thumped faster and harder with every touch. I will quench in time, he thought, for now I will enjoy her. Moving his way across the front of her neck nipping with light teeth along the way, he began nuzzling the other side of her neck to the small soft spot behind her ear.

Elizabeth pulled his head even closer to her, as he began nibbling and biting, increasing the firmness with every clench. Moving back down to the front of her neck, he worked his way down her sternum, he could feel the blood pumping through her racing heart as it was almost beating through her chest. He took her breasts into his mouth and drew circles around the areola of her left breast sucking the plump tender nipple in quickly between his firm lips. Flicking at the nipple, he took it between his teeth and began to bite down. Elizabeth jumped at the sudden pleasure/pain of that, and the shadow released it. Kissing his way back to the right he did the same thing to the right nipple. Taking his time with the areola before taking the nipple into his mouth flicking with a sudden quick nip at the firm bud there.

Moving further down to her plump soft belly he lay soft kisses there admiring the alabaster skin and soft yielding warmth of it. Down further he went reaching the vulva. A soft patch of sparse red hair met his lips and he suckled on the down to taste the faint moistness that had formed there. He paused briefly to inhale the musky scent of Elizabeth’s center before swallowing each drop of her essence there. Kissing, suckling, and nipping she felt his beard tickle her thighs.

At once, a sharp stab came to that tender skin in the inner thigh. She winced slightly and thought he, perhaps, bit a little too hard. The bite was definitely not unwelcomed; it was even expected to happen at some point. Elizabeth would’ve been exceedingly disappointed if it didn’t. It did however, shake her from her haze momentarily and she quickly had to put herself back into her setting. Her arousal and his soothing, suckling, and lapping helped her to quickly plunge back into her fog of sensuality.

Elizabeth pushed the shadow’s head further down. The shadow continued and pushed on with pleasuring Elizabeth and exploring her womanhood. His mouth explored her. His hands explored her deep in her femininity. He pleasured her until she reached the crest that was the waterfall of complete ecstasy. Every nudge, every touch, every kiss brought her ever closer.

With a final flourish of his snakelike tongue, the shadow pushed Elizabeth Forrester over the edge. Waves of electricity flowed through her body one after the other. It came to her that the waves were not one after the other but one on top of the other never knowing where one started or ended. Her body bucked; her body shook. Her belly convulsed in seemingly endless pleasure.

The shadow mounted Elizabeth and took her… completely. He filled his lover completely, not just physically, but mentally as well. Her mind filled with his manhood. Elizabeth Forrester felt as full as she had ever been. She had never had this intense sort of pleasure, almost to the point of pain. She was, again, lost in his work, when at once his body stiffened and released. She went with him over the edge and began a second set of rhythmic waves of current engulfed her body.

Elizabeth lay spent. After a minute or two, having somewhat gathered her sense, the girl turned to her lover. Her lover was gone. The shadow had slipped back across the room to the window and was out before her mind and body could recover from the sweeping pleasure she had just experienced. She lay back in the damp mixture of her release and his. She felt a stream of moistness begin to flow down the inside of her thigh. Absently she touched her fingers to it wondering if it was him. It was not him. It was blood.

She could then feel the sting of the wound that was the source of the blood. The stream grew stronger, more blood flood in increasing volume. Elizabth succumbed to the vampire’s bite anticipating her turn. The vitality that was Elizabeth Forrester’s life began to rush down her leg in deep burgundy ribbons and then poured from the open, widening wound. Elizabeth began to feel weak. Her lower limbs went numb.

This is turning. I want to become. I’ve waited for this moment so long, she thought.

Consciousness began to elude her murky brain and the room began to spin. The girl could feel the blood gush from her thigh and pooling underneath her. Her surroundings began to fade from her view. Deep in the background, Elizabeth could faintly hear a harpsichord playing a familiar melody. In the last moment, she found the shadow watching from a darkened corner. Her vision went black. Elizabeth was gone.

#serial #novel #pulpfiction #The Underneath #post

[bookloveravenue]

Bewitched (book 1): Bewitched by Laura Thalassa

From bestselling indie author and TikTok favorite Laura Thalassa comes a witch fantasy set in the world of the Bargainer series.

At age twenty, Selene Bowers desperately hopes to be accepted into Henbane Coven, an academy for young witches. Since one of the requirements for entry is to connect with her powers via a quest through the wilderness, Selene books a trip to South America. When a nefarious supernatural force tries to drag her plane from the sky, Selene’s magic awakens to save her life—at a cost. Using her powers devours her memories, one by one.

Worse, when Selene braves the jungle and discovers the source of the attack, she finds herself awakening an ancient evil, Memnon the Cursed, who mistakes Selene for his long-dead wife. The wife who betrayed him. Selene manages to escape and begin her studies at Henbane, but when Memnon turns up at the coven and witches are found dead across campus, Selene becomes entangled in a dangerous plot. Accused of the murders on the basis of her memory loss, Selene must rely on Memnon’s help for answers—and his plans for her will change everything.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/65001557-bewitched

********

April 8, 2023

My Review: 5/5 Stars

What a rollercoaster this one was! The whole time I was trying to figure out who I was rooting for because man so many ups and downs. This story was pretty wild and thankfully it isn't the last especially after that wild cliffhanger. Not even sure how I totally feel bout everything that went down but I know I wanna find out. So our story follows Selene and her magic is pretty rough. I do not envy this girl. For every time she uses her magic, a memory is taken away. Living like that cannot be easy. But despite the struggles Selene faces, she is determined to push through and make something for herself. And right now her goal is to get into Henbane Coven so she can work on her magic and be around other witches. But she has been struggling to get in. And in her latest try she is told that she needs to go on a quest and get a familiar. So she'll do it. But she never expects what comes next. A supernatural force brings her plane down in South America and she hears someone calling to her... Memnon the Cursed. And she may have released him. What's worse? Memnon is convinced Selene is his wife and that she betrayed him. And if that isn't complicated enough, she returns back to the US and gets into Henbane but then there are a series of murders going around. And with Selene's memory gaps, she is the main suspect. Poor girl can't catch a break. This story was pretty wild. I was hooked from beginning to end. I wanted to know more about Selene and her magic and how she could be Memnon's long ago wife. Reincarnation was my first guess but the big question was how? And if she was his wife, then why did she betray him and lock him away? Or did she even do that? Then Memnon himself was an enigma. To trust him or not? Could he be good? Bad? A bit of both? So much happening in this story and some many threads that overlap. Like I said, a crazy cliffhanger and I cannot wait to see where this series takes us.

I received an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

#book #books #i love books #my review #book review #bewitched #laura thalassa

[myyrrrhhhh]

"Coven of Sisters" | FILM CRITIQUE

“Coven of Sisters”

The “Coven of Sisters” is a Netflix drama/thriller film directed by Pablo Aguero. The film was set in 1609 on Basque Country during the Spanish Inquisition. In this period, many people know about hell, rituals, and witchcraft. In contrast to most of Europe, Spain had a relatively small number of witch trials. The persecution of witchcraft was not prioritized by the Spanish Inquisition, which instead chose to concentrate on the crime of heresy. In fact, it was discouraged rather than being handled by the secular courts (Steed, A. C. (n.d.). 

The movie is about six teenage girls who were arrested by a Judge/Inquisitor who was blaming or claiming that they are witches because they were caught dancing and singing a chant-like song in the middle of the night. They were arrested and imprisoned in a compact space, and every day they were interrogated by the Inquisitor and basically being “mind-controlled” and tortured by the questions asked. If they denied the existence of witches they are accused of “lying” and if they try to look at the Judge’s eyes, the girls were “trying” to “bewitch” him. 

The theme of the film, in my opinion, is doubt vs belief. Because the judge evidently believes in witchcraft, the girls sought to convince the judge that they are not witches before attempting to deceive him into believing they are by inventing stories. This movie's key message, in my opinion, is that sometimes being persuaded or having someone convince you of something can alter your perspective because you begin to believe those "claims" and are then "stuck" in them. Because the girls weren't plainly witches in the movie, the Judge clearly accepted Ana when she claimed to be one and she began to fabricate stories about witchcraft, and he is now persuaded that she is a witch. It was especially evident in the scene where there were strong gusts that shook the home and terrified the man to the point where he felt compelled to see what the girls were up to. 

I think the movie was excellent, it was thrilling, and very entertaining. The quality of the movie is decent and the acting of every actor is phenomenal.  A crazy horror story with stylistic ties to the most recent entries in the genre, where the everyday terror is always the most unsettling element. The heavy tension in every scene was sublime, it really enthuses the grief, anger, and melancholy feelings of each character. The movie is like a rollercoaster ride. There are scenes and components that are eerie, surprising, and even imaginative, it really makes you want to watch and think hard. 

The music used in the film was well-executed, the music really helped enhance the scene, it added more tension to the scene, it was so tense that it made me sit on the edge of my seat while watching. The film symbolizes how beliefs and how strong those beliefs are, it can really change your mind and can be mimesis. Ana and the other girls were so captivated by the thought of them being witches that they actually became “witches”. Though they didn't physically change into one, they did so ideologically. Although the girls weren't actually witches, they exploited their real-life experiences to give the impression that they were by changing and twisting some details so that it appeared as though they were performing a ritual for the devil.

Out of the two main film theory models, I think this film is leaning more towards the Semiotic Analysis, considering that this film is telling a metaphor; it demonstrates how strong beliefs can become manipulative. The film also used the color red for most scenes, especially the ritual/ending part, which makes sense seeing that the color red symbolizes intense feelings, that evokes actions and which also affects the audience's emotions. In the ritual scene, you can really tell that it represents the emotions happening, it was aggressive, excitement, rage, and power, and that the color red really helped represent and project those emotions to us audiences. And of the various film theories, I believe that this one supports the theory of Formalism because it employs the technical aspects of a film; it has a setting (Basque country), color composition/psychology, the characters wore medieval costumes, there were numerous shots (close-up, medium, etc.), it appeared to have been expertly edited, and they used music that is appropriate for each scene. 

In conclusion, I had a great time watching this movie. I knew nothing about witchcraft or how they would deal with it, so it was quite interesting and educational. I was amazed by the character acting, thought the setting was lovely, and thought the plot was above average, but I wished that they had told or shown more history about witchcraft. I wanted to see the "real" witches and how the ritual actually takes place. Nevertheless, this movie is excellent and I highly recommend it. 

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[ajaxeology]

The Siren's Curse

Word count: 1.1k

Pairings: Childe x gn!reader (ft. Kaeya)

Genre: Angst

c/w: Heavy Siren's Lament Spoilers, kissing

Note: For @stellumi 's GenshinToon Collab here!! Do check out the other entries as well. I'm sorry I took so long!

A bit of information to set the context (especially if you're not intending to read the webtoon but you really should!!): Sirens see the heartbreak of people with their ability to see blue glowing hearts. When they see this, they lure the heartbroken person to kiss them. The siren regains their legs to get a second chance at life while the heartbroken person gets a tail and their memories are taken away from them. So it's a cycle.

You and Kaeya are half-sirens due to something that went wrong and the curse is slowly getting passed to you. In this scene, the siren calling is taking place where "Poseidon", the person who created this curse, summons all the sirens in the area.

Under the bewitching moonlight, his long eyelashes glimmer like the stars that dance on the lapping waves. Childe holds you in his embrace with his arm around your torso, hand cradling your head. The rough waves push against you and threaten to topple you, but his hold on you keeps you from falling. His lips press against yours, savouring them like a starved man.

You snap out of the trance that you were held captive in. After so long, this is all you wanted. Years of watching his eyes crinkle when he smiles from afar, listening to his laughter and admiring the freckles that are sprinkled like pixie dust across his face. Years of being too afraid to give a shot at claiming them for your own. But it’s as if you woke up to a nightmare.

He pulls away, his half-lidded eyes glowing an eerie blue. When his grip on you loosens and he falls sideways into the water, you’re pulled under the surface with him.

When you regain consciousness again, you feel the sand below your feet. Your vision spins and Kaeya has your arms hooked around his shoulder. Brief, blurred images of what happened earlier flash in your mind and you press Kaeya for an explanation with incoherent words.

Kaeya pries you off him and yells at you to stay put, worry lacing his words. He dives underwater and he pulls out a body with a tail.

There’s a sharp jab in your chest when you realise who Kaeya has brought out of the water. Childe lies unconscious in the sand, a beautiful yet sickening tail in the place of his legs. Tears start to obscure your vision. You wish with your entire being that when you blink those tears away, it’ll wash away the cruel reality in front of your eyes.

But when you wipe your tears away, the only thing that changes is the seawater that advances and recedes from the shore. You let out a guttural scream from the depths of your stomach and scramble towards Childe on fours.

Kaeya holds you back as you claw in the air to break free, your feet slipping in the sand.

“[name], stop! You’re going to mess up his plan if you kiss him.”

When his words resonate with whatever rationality you have left, you sink your hands into the sand. Fingers dig into the particles of sand and you clench your jaw.

There’s the urge to swat Kaeya’s hands away when he places his hand on your shoulder. He knew this was going to happen. Yet he did nothing. Hurt brews in your chest like a bubbling, sinister concoction. You’re about to lash out at him and splatter the scalding liquid of hurt at Kaeya until you remember that you haven’t been truthful with Childe. While you know Childe will never do petty things, you can’t help but think this is his way of getting back at you.

All irrationality aside, you know it isn’t Kaeya’s fault. A glance at Kaeya’s face hints at worry and guilt even as he attempts to conceal them with a poker face.

Besides, you didn’t grow up with Childe just to forget that no one can change his mind about people he cares about. While you don’t know whether he loves you through this, you never doubted his concern for you.

When you compose yourself, you force yourself to look at Childe and shift yourself beside him. Kaeya sits next to you and he reminds you, “Remember, this isn’t the Childe that you know.”

It’s not long before Childe stirs and he opens his eyes.

You kneel by his side. His eyes flicker to where your heart lies. You come to note the wrenching feeling that stirs there and realise that he sees a blue glowing heart.

Childe leans into you. His fingers, dabbed with sand, slides under your chin and he cups one side of your jaw. He breathes, “Hey.”

Kaeya stirs behind you and you assure him, “It’s fine. I know.”

You gaze into Childe’s eyes, searching for him. When he puts on a flirtatious grin that poorly veils an ulterior motive, you conclude that there’s nothing. You don’t budge when you feel the slight tug of his fingers.

After prying his fingers off your jaw, you keep some distance away from him. Far enough to show caution but near enough to display some trust.

“I’m [name]. That’s Kaeya.”

Kaeya waves and gives Childe his cocky smirk. You think that’s become a standard greeting for him at this point.

Childe’s flirty smile disappears in a second and he narrows his eyes at the both of you. “How are you two-”

You finished his words, “ So calm when we’re right in the face of a siren?”

A look of disbelief crosses his face. Annoyance bubbles in your chest once again and you spat, “You kissed me to protect me from being a siren.”

Your heart wrung, his eyes flicker down for a moment again. Suspicion drips from his words and he narrows his eyes at you as he questions, “Who are you?”

“I’m…”

Did he love you?

“I don’t know how you- the old you, see me, but…”

Your voice trails off, “I love you.”

Extra headcanons:

Whenever you’re out at sea with him, he always swims towards your blind spot and hides there for a while. Both as a playful prank and You panic when you can’t find him and you always call out his name with worry in your voice. He finally stops doing that when your heart glows blue and he realises how much he means to you. He thinks that even if he never regained his memories, he might fall in love with you again.

He likes to touch his earring. After swimming from one place to another, he always checks if it’s still there. The dude doesn’t know why, but it reminds him of you and makes him feel warm inside in the depths of the chilly ocean. It brings up happy memories he can’t quite remember having with you in his mind.

When he’s not with you, he likes to pick up the starconches and admire them.

You told him all the names he went by and he indicated his preference for the name “Tartaglia”. So you and Kaeya call him that instead (except that Kaeya chooses to call him “Loverboy” often)

Childe doesn’t know why (Siren Childe doesn’t know a lot) but he gets pretty jealous when he sees you and Kaeya bantering at the shore. Swims the fastest he could ever to the shore and gets between the two of you if he can. Doesn’t realise that he pouts until Kaeya points it out.

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#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin writing #genshin imagines #childe #tartaglia #childe x you #tartaglia x you #— genshintoon 💬 #riptide.works #interwoven fates #sometimes I think about how I scrapped over 5k worth of words #I redid things twice bc I wasn't happy with it #this is the best I got and I hope you like it!!