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voidpetrova · 8 months

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partners in crime — klaus mikaelson x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: none in particular, requested one-shot — comfort

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: you were as twisted as him, and he adored you for it

✧.*

in the heart of new orleans, where darkness and mystique intertwined, an unlikely partnership thrived. klaus mikaelson, the infamous hybrid vampire, had always been a force to be reckoned with. ruthless and cunning, he was known throughout the supernatural world for his audacious schemes and thirst for power.yet, even the most formidable of creatures couldn't resist the allure of a dangerous accomplice, and in this case, that partner was you.

you were no ordinary vampire. you were a heretic, a rare breed born from the unholy union of vampire and witch, wielding both the immortal strength of a vampire and the potent magic of a witch. the stories of your malevolence echoed through the centuries, leaving behind a trail of destruction and fear. klaus had first crossed paths with you in the dark, clandestine corners of the city. a chance meeting turned into a partnership fueled by a shared desire for chaos. together, you embarked on a campaign of mischief and malevolence, weaving your way through the intricate tapestry of power struggles that defined new orleans.

your alliance didn't merely thrive on bloodlust and destruction; it thrived on strategy and cunning. klaus, with his penchant for manipulation, and you, with your mastery over dark magic, were a formidable duo. you orchestrated elaborate heists, sowed discord among rival supernatural factions, and left behind a trail of baffled adversaries who underestimated the malevolence of your partnership.

one of your most audacious acts was the infiltration of a high-profile society gala, hosted by the most influential witch coven in the city. you and klaus masqueraded as guests, seamlessly blending into the crowd. as the night wore on, you unleashed a torrent of dark magic that sent chandeliers crashing, and illusions that played tricks on the minds of the attendees.

klaus reveled in the chaos you created, watching with a wicked grin as the once-coherent gathering descended into chaos and madness. It was in these moments, as you both reveled in the malevolent beauty of your actions, that he couldn't help but feel an undeniable attraction to your power and your wickedness.

as dawn broke over new orleans, you and klaus vanished into the shadows, leaving behind a city forever altered by your malevolent partnership. the world may have deemed you both as monsters, but in each other's eyes, you were the perfect accomplices, two dark souls united in their thirst for power and their love for the evil they created together.

one time, the night was draped in a velvet darkness, concealing your every move as you and klaus stood in the shadows of the mikaelson mansion. the moon, like a pale witness to your impending malevolence, cast eerie shadows across the cobblestone courtyard. klaus, his cerulean eyes dancing with anticipation, leaned in closer to you. “my dearest (y/n),” he purred, his voice dripping with honeyed menace. “tonight, we shall take another step towards our rightful dominion over this city.”

a devilish grin curved your lips as you responded, your voice laced with the promise of chaos. “i know we will. the witches have grown too comfortable, too complacent. it's time we remind them of our power.”

the plan was simple in its intricacy. you had uncovered a secret, a buried legend from new orleans' supernatural history. an ancient grimoire spoke of a powerful artifact hidden beneath the city, capable of granting unimaginable power to any who possessed it. the witches held the key to this artifact, and tonight, it would be yours.

as the mansion's clock struck midnight, you and klaus moved with preternatural grace, infiltrating the ancestral witch house where the coven held their most precious artifacts. the scent of ancient magic filled the air as you approached a cryptic door, adorned with intricate symbols. with a knowing glance, you murmured an incantation, and the door creaked open, revealing a chamber bathed in an eerie blue glow. there, resting on a pedestal, was the coveted artifact—a mystical amulet, pulsating with power.

klaus's eyes widened as he beheld the object of their desire. “remarkable,” he breathed, reaching out to touch it. but you halted him with a firm hand. “not so fast,” you cautioned. “the amulet is protected by ancient enchantments. we must proceed with caution.”

together, you unraveled the intricate web of magic guarding the amulet. each step was perilous, as one wrong move could unleash catastrophic consequences. the air crackled with energy as you manipulated the spells, your heretic abilities and klaus's vampiric strength intertwining seamlessly.

at last, the final barrier fell, and klaus gingerly lifted the amulet from its pedestal. power radiated from it, coursing through his veins. “now, my dear,” he declared, his voice trembling with a heady mix of excitement and greed, “we'll be ruling this city in no time.”

but just as klaus marveled at the amulet, a voice echoed through the chamber—a disembodied whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “you have awakened the darkness,” it intoned. “prepare to face the consequences.”

the room quaked, and the walls seemed to close in on you. you and klaus exchanged frantic glances as the amulet's power threatened to consume you both. it was a perilous gamble, one that could either solidify your reign or bring about your doom. and as the chamber trembled around you, you and him clung to the amulet, your fate uncertain. but in this moment of chaos and uncertainty, your partnership burned brighter than ever, a beacon of malevolence in the heart of the supernatural world.

#tvd #tvdu #the originals #legacies #klaus x reader #klaus imagine #klaus fanfiction #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson angst #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson smut

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2024-grimoire-challenge · 4 months

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January Week 1

Welcome welcome to the 2024 Grimoire Challenge! Time to really get started everyone! This week will have a lot of stuff all jammed in. So buckle up, grab your grimoire and your supplies, and let’s get to work!

Monday

Name your book - this may seem silly and you definitely don’t need to name your book. Not properly at least. Other than “my grimoire” or “book of shadows” or what have you, which is totally fine. But some of us might feel the need to give it a proper title. “The Basil Grimoire” or “Hazel’s Handwritten Workings” something, anything, that ties the book to you and your craft. Make a title page! If you feel so inclined. If not, that’s fine too.

Definitions (New Page) - ritual and spell. Let’s define a few things. Make a page specifically for definitions, that we’ll add to through the challenge. Let’s start with a couple simple definitions. Define spell. And define ritual. Within the confines of magic, witchcraft and your practice. What is a spell? What is a ritual? What are the differences?

Study (herb) - Pick another herb from that list we made, and dig into the details. Make a page for it on its own, or add its info to another page! Whatever works for your craft. The questions to ask for these study prompts are going to continue to remain the same. Where did it come from, where does it grow, how does it grow, what are its mundane and practical uses. What are the myths and legends and stories surrounding the herb? What are its magical properties and why/ how do you think the other information you've learned about it have influenced its magical associations?

Tuesday

Outline/ index (New Page!) - it helped me a great deal to have an index or outline to my grimoire. I started this as a file on my computer as my grimoire grew and changed I could more easily manage it and rearrange it as I saw fit. Then eventually I could make it into a handwritten copy.

Study (gem) - Like our herb prompt, the gem prompts are going to always use the same outline and questions. Where does the gem come from? What is it used for in a practical and mundane sense? What are its physical properties? What are any myths, legends or stories? Where and how does it form? How does all of that relate to its magical correspondences and what does the herb mean to and for you in your craft?

Spellwriting 101 (New Page!) - make a new page dedicated to spellwriting. This is going to be one of those prompts that is focused on you and your craft. How do you write spells? How do you set them up? What components do you use? What is the format? How is it done? What does it require? From materials to timing and circumstances? Write it all out in your lab notebook. Make it a work in progress. Not all spells are going to work out the same or function the same as you perform them, but having a general layout and method helps to focus your practice.

Wednesday

Common tools - What are the common tools in your craft? That is, you don't need to have a list of every single tool ever used in witchcraft, just the tools that you use in yours. Both regularly and less regularly. What are they used for specifically? What purposes do they serve in the magical and practical sense? Are they ceremonial and symbolic or do they serve an actual physical purpose? (i.e. a wand used to direct energy serves many purposes, while an incense burner could literally just be that, an incense burner)

Year outline/ calendar - not everyone celebrates the same days, holidays or even the same holidays the same way. What are the special occasions and days in your calendar? Mark them and when the proper season/ holiday comes around, we can make pages dedicated to those days. This week this will simply be a list of these days, while later we will actually make pages for them individually. Think of it like the Wheel of the Year, Yule to Midsummer and so on. What days are important to you and your practice? Are they actual holidays? Or simply days of power like the full moon? Or is it simply days that are significant for other reasons, like the anniversary of the day you began practicing witchcraft?

Practical - tool usage - practice using your tools. For example if you use a wand. Practice using it to direct energies or whatever it is you utilize it for.

Thursday

Altar design/ work space (New Page!) - make a page dedicated to your altar and its setup. Why are things where they are? The reasoning can be simple as “that’s where it fits” or you can give it a more meaningful reason. Candles in front of or behind something to represent some purpose. Do you have items that represent the elements? Deities? Different sources of power or directionality? Different colors for different meanings? Why is your altar the way it is?

Practical - cleansing space - practice cleansing your space and tools. This is of course a physical and 'energetic' cleansing. Tidy it up, redecorate your space, clean the tools if they have dust or ash or anything on them. Sometimes it is good to have a clean start.

Friday

Personal practices - this is just a thought provoking prompt tied in with the Journal prompt below. What are some of your personal practices that you've brought into your witchcraft? Anything from little habits from your every day life to things brought from religion or family traditions. No matter how hard we try, we carry within us echoes of things not related to our practices into it. And that is totally okay. Recognizing them, acknowledging them, and truly incorporating them can be a huge step toward understanding ourselves, our beliefs and our practices all around.

Journal/ introspective/ meditations - Think about the above and write any of it down that you come to terms with. Self understanding is important in and outside of witchcraft.

Thank you all and I hope this week's prompts aren't too overwhelming! Stay tuned next week for the next set of prompts!

-Mod Hazel

#2024 grimoire challenge #grimoire #grimoire challenge #paganism #witchcraft #witchblr #witchy #2024 gc #book of shadows #dark academia #occult #occultism #magick #magic #witch challenge #witchy challenge #book of magic #grimoire info #grimoire inspiration

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storiesbyrhi · 1 year

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

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

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

Chapter Summary: A voice calls to you.

Author's Note: Set around two weeks after the ‘earthquake’ and is canon-compliant except there is no Eddie in 1986. This fic takes a couple of chapters to get going, so stay with me. I am SO excited about this, and I think you will love where it goes.

1986

The colony screeched and swooped, taking off into the inky dusk sky with graceless chaos. Each bat had stretched their wings and dropped from their forest dwelling to join the trilling and flapping. Only one remained.

He perched high in the treetops, an unwillingness to join the others that was not typical for a bat. Impossible for a bat, depending on who you asked. He observed the night grow darker with an entirely unnatural sense of understanding.

Eventually, he would fall from the branch and join the others in the hunt for moths and wasps, beetles and bugs. The hunger would drive him to it, yet the hunger could never be satisfied. It had been like that for one hundred and fifty years.

He was the oldest in the colony and couldn’t remember being young. He couldn’t remember reveling in warm nights or cicada season. He felt as if he had always haunted the forest and always would. He felt, and that was the problem.

The other bats did as all Eptesicus fuscus did. They were born into a colony around April and spent a month nursing from their mothers. The pups grew up, hibernated in the winter, mated, and bared the next generation, ultimately living a short life, just shy of a decade at best.

This bat did not. He did not hibernate alone or with others. When they found warmth and shelter in dilapidated buildings, under tree bark, or in caves, he remained a presence on the boughs of the forest’s tallest trees. He did not mate and did not father. He did not fly patterns across the sky while the town below slept. He ate to survive and continued to live well beyond his species’ dictated years. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He watched over Hawkins, Indiana for over a century. With each passing year, things would change. Slowly, the wilderness had been reduced to clusters of wooded areas by modernisation and industrialisation. It was becoming more and more common for the bats to come into contact with humans. A vast majority of the time, the people screamed and ran, terrified of disease or spooked by urban legends. Some marveled at the bats with respectful awe. Some tried and failed to catch the needle-teethed things for sport. Mostly, they were left alone to mind their own bat business, and mostly, that’s what the ageless bat did.

It wasn’t until mid-nineteenth century that the bat sensed a deep and profound shift. The Lab was built and the earth suffered. The bat had an ariel view and echolocation, but he couldn’t know what happened within the walls. Decades passed and the mystery continued. By 1983 though, he knew his kind wasn’t the only nightmare fuel in the woods.

1984. 1985. And, in 1986 the ground split open, spilling the Upside Down into Hawkins. An earthquake, reported the news. The sixth sense innate in all animals knew better Deers, birds, and bees all migrated out of pattern. The colony of bats entirely disappeared one night, having feared the vibrations pulsating from the cracks in the earth.

Only one remained, an unshakable and quite possibly magical force tethering him to Hawkins.

…

“That town is no place for a witch,” came the warning. “Something is still wrong with Hawkins. Can’t you sense it?”

Infamous in Indiana, Hawkins was the place where buildings burnt and people went missing with threefold outcome. One: they were never seen again. Two: returned, but at what cost? Three: bodies found, so disfigured by unseen violence that it was hard not to believe in monsters.

When the streets fell apart in 1986, sending part of the town down into hell, it would have been fair for Hawkins to lose what remained of their resolve. Yet, the town would go on to rebuild, and between the freshly poured concrete and funeral services, a battle was fought in secret.

“A doorway was opened. They may not claim victory,” came another warning with a beg to heed.

Yes, it would be the fight of their lives, but it wasn’t for a witch to interfere with. That was a hard line in the sand of magic that even you would not cross. They called him Vecna, but you had no name for him. His sorcery was not of the natural world. To let him know of yours would be to risk it all.

There was more to you than witchcraft, however. Hawkins was a town in crisis, and there was space for you to help and heal.

“It’s not just him,” cried a third and final warning. “The ground is consecrated,”

“That’s old superstition,” you dismissed.

“So is blood moon bad luck, but look what happened last time. And falling brooms, broken mirrors, and circles of salt. We are superstition. There are some places witches should not go.”

Your mind was set and your path clear. “Something is calling me there. Doesn’t that have meaning?”

“Not all callings are sanctified,”

“Do we fear holiness or not?” you asked. “I can’t walk consecrated ground but should only show devotion to the sanctified calls?”

There was no answer.

You sighed and softened your voice. “Look, I know you mean well. All you do is out of love. I know that. But, I need to do this. It’s… I don’t know… So real. The calling. It almost has a voice,”

“The timing,” was offered as a reminder.

The first time you felt something coming from Hawkins was when the quote unquote earthquake happened. A catastrophic event like that had to have more consequences than just Vecna, you thought. It could have shifted other magic and natural musings.

“I’ve made up my mind,” you stated with boldness beyond your rank in the coven.

“Are you so willing to discount lore?”

“Folklore. It’s 1986. I know witchcraft isn’t a science, but you have to give me more credit than that. We don’t have to listen to every whisper on the wind and take for gospel the tea leaves in our cups… Nuances, you know?”

Your eyes stayed closed and your hand gripped the pen tightly, waiting for a reply to be sprawled out on the page. When nothing more came, ‘Are you so willing to discount lore?’ the last words scribbled in a handwriting not your own, you breathed out hard.

Automatic writing took a lot of energy out of you, but it was the best method of speaking to The Witches Who Came Before. Reading back their psychographic warnings, you felt a small sense of guilt over defying them, but more than guilty, you felt empathy for a town so beaten by evil over and over.

Hawkins was calling.

…

Aid workers, distressed families, and reporters had flooded the small town, making it all the more easy for you to slip by the city limits unnoticed. Although you weren’t sure what should or could be noticing you, there was still a small exhale of relief when you didn’t burst into flames as you drove passed the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign.

The voice calling you to the town hadn’t been polite enough to give specific instructions. In lieu of directions or coordinates, you drove along roads that appeared to be out of the path of the earthquake, finding your way to a bar called The Hideaway.

Inside, patrons sat around watching their town on the news while staff rushed to cook food and package it up for the crisis centers.

“Bit of a wait on food, honey,” a waitress called to you.

“Just after a Coke.”

It seemed uncanny for a bar to be operational in the middle of an emergency, but it also befit a town so used to death. You took your can of Coke from the waitress, left a ten on the counter, and made your way around the tables to get to the noticeboard on the other side of the room.

Lost dogs. Swimming classes. Babysitters for hire. Then, your eyes landed on it.

1BR TRAILER. PARTLY FURNISHED. WATER/ELECTRICITY. NEEDS REPAIR. CHEAP. CALL: FOREST HILLS TRAILER PARK. 312-683-1192.

Maybe it had already been volunteered to home displaced people, but you trusted it was worth a shot. “Hey, can I borrow your phone?” you asked the waitress, walking to the bar and leaning on it. She nodded and dumped the old rotary phone in front of you.

After four rings, “Forest Hills,”

“Ah, hey. I saw your flyer. About the one-bedroom. Is that still available?”

The woman made a scoffing sound. “Apparently beggars can be choosers. Ain’t nothing wrong with that trailer but Red Cross said it ain’t fit for people. On account of the mold, they said.” Her voice was gravelly from a pack a day, but she didn’t sound unkind.

“I don’t mind mold,”

“Guess it’s available then.”

…

The bat had never known illness or injury. Whatever was killing the trees though, had touched him. He didn’t wither and die like other flora and fauna, but he wasn’t unscathed. It was as if he was burnt from the inside out, a mark on his feet spreading slowly but surely.

The sensation was unpleasant at first, but grew more noxious. His wings wouldn’t stretch their full span, and he could only glide small distances. The bat found a small patch of trees not yet turned to ash, settling in at the base of one, hiding under brush for warmth.

It was a fine place to die, if that should be his fate. He was where he belonged.

…

Forest Hills Trailer Park had been subdivided again and again; any spare patch of land was used for caravans and tents of people left homeless or those coming to watch the disaster unfold.

The one-bedroom trailer Michelle, manager of the park, gave you the keys to was indeed in need of repair. There were air vents that sat wide open, the outside cold seeping through. Dark mold grew in the corner of the bedroom’s ceiling. And the carpet should have been replaced years prior.

The very first thing you did once alone in your new home was ring a small bell you kept in your bag. Three shrill rings for good fortune. For everything else, you’d need supplies.

The local general stores would likely be low on stock, and the shopping mall had burnt down only a year ago. It stood in ruin, yet to be redeveloped. Before you ventured to the shops, you decided to take a short walk around Forest Hills and the surrounding land to see what could be foraged.

As you passed people, some looked you up and down, Satanic Panic clouding their perception of anyone they considered to be different from themselves, to be ‘other’ in any way. Some neighbours though, waved and offered a friendly greeting. “Michelle con you into that old trailer?” one asked, to which you politely faked a laugh.

Out beyond the trailers and RVs was a patch of land that seemed unaffected by everything happening in the town. The trees soundproofed the space, making it feel miles away from civilisation. While there wasn’t much in the way of edible mushrooms and plants, nor things needed for your craft, you sensed an undercurrent of magic there.

Crouching down, you picked up a golden leaf, twirling it between your fingers. Close, you thought, but didn’t know what it meant.

It was then you saw it out of the corner of your eyes. Something moved under the tree near you. Small. An animal. A rabbit, maybe? Rats or opossums or a trash-stealing raccoon?

Slowly, you sat down on the forest floor, cross-legged and facing the tree. You would wait until the animal revealed itself on its own terms.

The bat was so weak he could hardly move. He tried to hide away from the human that was watching him, but he couldn’t. When he resigned to his position, he let his vision focus on you.

You weren’t surprised to see the bat. The feeling was relief, like you’d found a missing thing. It was clear something was wrong with the creature though. “Do you need help?” you asked it.

Still slowly, you scooted closer to the bat. There were no obvious signs of injury. His brown fluffy body was free from blood or gore. Perhaps he had torn a wing or flown into a tree.

“I can help,” you whispered, holding a hand out flat to the ground. The tips of your fingers were close enough to the bat that he could bite if he wanted to, or he could shuffle forward into the softness of your hand.

Whatever compelled the bat to never leave Hawkins, compelled him to fall onto your palm.

“Hi,” you greeted, bringing your hand to your chest and holding the bat safely between your hands. “What’s happened?”

The bat was a common species; you recognised him as the aptly named big brown bat. His body was the size of a baseball, and some of his colouring was wrong. His legs and arms would normally be pink, but they were a sickly black colour. It looked like his brown fur was beginning to turn too.

“Did you eat something bad? Accidentally poison yourself?”

The bat, of course, did not answer your questions. You looked around the trees for other lost animals or any sign of something that may have caused your new friend to become sick. When there were no answers there either, you stood and took the both of you back to the trailer.

…

Destiny and a little folly may have led you to Forest Hills and the one-bedroom trailer, but you had come to Hawkins prepared nonetheless. In your car, there were supplies to ensure if you’d had to sleep there for a couple of nights, you could. The bat would benefit from your readiness.

The sleeping bag you’d packed was turned into a soft nest for him. “Alright, let’s get you warm,” you whispered, placing him in the middle. He shuffled on the spot for a few moments before settling, his brown eyes still watching you.

When you offered him a piece of banana, he nibbled at it.

When you gingerly stroked his fur, he let you.

Still, there was something about the way the bat watched you, something in his reaction to your movements. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it was most definitely curious.

“Alright, my furry friend. We need provisions. Especially if there’s gonna be two of us.” You spoke to him as you pulled your jacket on and grabbed your bag. “Please be here when I get back. I promise I can help you.”

…

It was dark when you returned home. Stores were staying open late to receive interstate deliveries and provide goods to the in-need townspeople, so you managed to get most things on your list.

Inside the trailer was cold, the spring air outside not yet filtered with summer’s coming warmth. You checked on the bat, ensured he was still cosy in his nest. Then, you got to work.

After soap and scrubbing did its part and the mold was attacked with vinegar and bleach, you boarded up the vents and added repairing them properly to your to-do list. In the bedroom, the bed was covered in fresh linen while you dreamed of a brand new mattress.

The only other furniture in the so-called ‘partly furnished’ trailer was a couple of bar stools at the kitchen bench, a televisionless television stand, a couch in surprisingly good condition, and a coffee table that sat a little too low to the ground.

Next, you took a ritual learned from your sisters whilst in India and let milk and rice boil over on the stove for prosperity and abundance. From time spent in Lowcountry, you observed the practice of painting your porch blue. The trailer didn’t have a porch, but the doorframes would suffice. It would ward off evil spirits, as would the salt ring you ran around the home. Finally, mugwort and sweetgrass smudged through the space, cleansing and claiming it as your own.

By the time you were finished, it was almost midnight and your stomach growled obscenities. The bat had been nibbling on the fruit you’d offered, but you’d not eaten since the morning.

After two cups of noodles and a cup of white jasmine tea, you unpacked the small cat bed you’d purchased for the bat. You relocated him into it, still with the sleeping bag, and pushed it under your bed. He’d like it in the dark, you thought.

Skipping a shower, you changed into pajamas and got into bed. Sleep came quickly, perhaps quicker than it had in decades. You dreamt that night. Of darkness. Of blood. Of screaming. Nothing coherent, nothing recognisable. Just an ominous feeling that you were going to find what you were looking for, ready or not.

End Note: Reblogs and comments are so appreciated. Like I said, it will take a couple of chapters for you to fall in love, but I promise you will.

If you are interested in the witchcraft in the story, check out The Grimoire. It will be updated with each chapter!

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @amira0303 @munsonsbait @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @stardustmunson @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24 @mel-the-fangirl

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Vampire!Eddie #Vampire Eddie Munson

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dyns33 · 2 months

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A story of witch

Happy Valentine day !

As a gift, here a looooooooong Morpheus x female reader.

Careful, some spoilers here, from the comics and so maybe from season 2.

Time had a different hold on witches.

A certain influence, because contrary to common beliefs, nothing escaped time and nothing was perfectly eternal, but it slipped over them as long as they decided, and had enough magic to repel its effects.

Y/N had already been walking on Earth for several centuries when she met Morpheus.

She had heard many legends about the Endless. Rumors. Lots of warnings, especially regarding Dream, who was described as a changeable, dangerous, angry and resentful being.

Her many sisters whispered to each other that becoming his lover was as much a gift as a curse. He would offer you the whole world on a platter, he would do everything to please you, and then one day, without warning, you would no longer suit him, you would do something wrong according to him, the feelings would no longer be as strong, and then misfortune would strike you.

The king would always find a way to blame you for this new emotional failure. Then you risked Hell, endless nightmares, eternal sleep.

Too much hassle for little benefit.

Y/N didn’t think about any of that when she met Morpheus. Neither to the wonders he could offer her, nor to the torments he risked inflicting on her.

For a witch, some might have thought that she was young, still naive, far too in love with her books and grimoires, fascinated by stories, and therefore vulnerable to the charms of the dreams master.

She didn't think she would fall in love. Neither did he. The mourning of his marriage and his child were still recent, for a being such as him. Y/N had barely been born when this tragedy had happened.

The subject was not brought up, like none of his former lovers. Morpheus did not forget, he never forgot, but when a new relationship began, he did not look back to compare with the previous ones.

No doubt it was a mistake on his part, who then never learned from his mistakes.

Y/N hadn’t had as many relationships as him. Witches have the luxury of immortality, and they knew the consequences of it. Bonding with mortals wasn't a good idea, even less so with their peers. Too risky. Too dangerous.

Attempting to see the future in dreams could have been described with the same words. Y/N was taking the risk of being punished by two Endless, Destiny and Dream.

But Destiny never interfered in anything, and Dream was intrigued by the little witch, asking her not to repeat her experiments, but welcoming her into his domain.

As they walked in his garden, the inhabitants of the Dreaming knew before them what was going to happen.

"Your flowers are beautiful. Everything is beautiful here."

“Would you like to see my library ?”

"Oh, I'd love to ! But you must have a lot to do, I don't want to bother you more than necessary."

"You don't bother me, mikri magissa. You are welcome here."

It took a while for Y/N to realize that they were getting closer. The courting of the king of stories was subtle, ethereal like him, full of poems and tenderness while doing without many words far too heavy with meaning, and at the same time far too limited to convey all the ardor of their love.

Because they loved each other, there was no doubt about it. The end of their story came quickly, although to a mortal three centuries seemed like a lot. At the same time, those who knew Morpheus well could testify that this was quite a long time for a relationship with him. But as always with his relationships, there had to be an end.

“I’m just saying he’s not wrong.”

"You don't know what you're talking about, o mágos mou. This man is insane and I'm not lonely."

“However, I have felt you far from me for some time now. Perhaps forever.”

"Don't I love you more than anything ? Haven't I shown you my love on many occasions ?"

"I don't know. It's difficult for me to know with you, immutable and yet so variable. Sometimes you give so much, too much, and sometimes not enough, if it's not nothing. There is no middle ground with you. Probably not with me either. It's possible that I'll ask you impossible things."

“Nothing is impossible for me.”

“Yet you refuse to speak, to really speak. You flee this kind of discussion, as you fled the friendship of this man.”

“Don’t push me, Agápe μου.”

Y/N left the Dreaming that night knowing she wasn’t coming back. Morpheus' indifference to her departure could have been seen as fortunate, but it hurt her deeply. He didn't try to catch her, he didn't try to punish her either.

Even though it seemed obvious after several weeks that he would not pursue her, neither in her dreams nor in the Waking, Y/N took precautions to prevent their paths from crossing again. Using several spells, rituals, amulets and ancient seals, she ensured that her mind was cut off from the realm of her former lover.

This protection proved very useful when the sleeping sickness arrived.

Like the rest of the world, Y/N didn't immediately understand what was happening. She knew Dream enough to know that he would never neglect his work like that, that he would not abandon his position unless forced to do so, and that despite all the cruelty and resentment he was capable of, he would never do such a thing to the dreamers.

Something had happened, but she didn't know what.

Too afraid of what he could do to her if she went into the Dreaming, or what could happen to her sleep without the protections, Y/N didn't try to find out. It wasn't her business anyway, since they were no longer together and the fate of humanity wasn't part of her responsibilities.

Time continued to pass, and she still tried to help mortals when she could, with potions and incantations to help them sleep, or on the contrary wake up, ensuring that their nights were not entirely nightmares.

But this was difficult, because she was not the master of dreams. Without knowing it, she came very close to Morpheus the day her steps led her near a mansion with dark, gloomy energies, which she did not wish to approach too closely. However, there was something, abandoned under a tree near the property, which attracted her with strong force.

The body of a raven. A raven different from the others, a dream. Jessamy. Someone had shot her and she lay there, lifeless, far from her creator, far from her home.

Y/N took the poor thing with her. Necromancy being prohibited, it was not good to anger Death, and the existence of dreams being a complex thing, she did the only thing in her power, to offer a decent burial to the little emissary whom she had loved very much and who had often helped her control Morpheus' moods.

When collective sleep returned to normal, there were no signs. Nothing that made it possible to understand what had happened. Curious by nature, the witch repeated to herself that she should not try to understand. The rumors would spread quickly.

She heard about Burgess. Whispers recounted the long confinement of the maker of nightmares, who had taken revenge before setting off in search of his stolen instruments in order to rebuild his kingdom. Twice he went to the Underworld, he faced a Vortex, he fell in love. Nothing really new, just the same story over and over again.

Y/N didn’t want to know any of this, but the choice wasn’t hers. One of her sisters came to visit without being invited, and to ask her advice.

“I don’t see how I can help you, big sister.”

"You have experienced what I am experiencing. Tell me how to escape from Oneiros, because I no longer wish to see him and he does not seem ready to accept it."

The rumors had not mentioned the fact that Morpheus had fallen in love with a witch again. Older than Y/N, more powerful, crueler too, because Thessaly had little interest in things of the heart.

" … I repeat, I'm not sure I can help you. Make sure you don't inspire him with any more feelings and you'll be free." "Sweet little sister, he still loves you and yet he left you alone. I'm asking for this."

"He doesn't love me. He didn't love me for a long time when I left."

"We argued often and each time my wing of the castle was razed and then rebuilt under his orders. There is no trace of his former companions left in all of the Dreaming. None, except you. He did not touch your room. He denied me access to it. He recreated it with everything else after his return. Can you tell me that doesn't mean anything ?"

Y/N didn’t respond. She didn't know what to answer, she didn't know about all this. Her eldest whispered that she was almost jealous. Many times she had wondered if she had gotten his attention because of their similarities, because she reminded him of his lost love.

It might be a good idea for her younger sister to discuss it with the Lord of Dreams.

"Or not. That would allow me to slip away without him probably noticing, but I can't wish harm on one of ours. I'll find a way."

This time, Y/N closed herself off to the whispers, not wanting to know if Thessaly had found this way.

Part of her wished the best for the lord of stories, who had suffered far too much in the last century despite all his wrongs, and who did not deserve to receive another injury. Another part didn't like knowing the older witch was with Dream.

She was afraid for her sister, and she was afraid for Morpheus, whose fickle heart was more fragile than he wanted to admit. The consequences were likely to be terrible for everyone.

Filled with memories, Y/N wanted to visit Jessamy’s grave. A powerful spell had hidden it from the eyes of the world, to prevent it from being desecrated, and she wondered if she had not made a mistake in doing so, for it was possible that Morpheus had never known where his faithful emissary rested.

But the magic of ravens was special, these beings knew things, and she shouldn't have been surprised to find one of them on the tree that protected the location.

"Good morning." she said politely, making new flowers appear near the grave.

"Hi. Do we know each other ? I feel like I know you."

"I don't think we've ever met. You're Dream's new raven."

"Yeah, Matthew. I don't know why I'm here. I'm sort of drawn to it, and Lucienne told me to follow my instincts for this sort of thing, but I don't understand. Are you the one calling me ?"

“I think it’s more your predecessor thzt you are feeling.”

"Jessamy ? Oh… The boss thought her body was destroyed or something. Were you the one who buried her ? That's nice of you. You don't look really surprised to see a talking raven. I feel like I'm supposed to know you. You seem important."

"Not really, no."

"The boss could tell me but he's busy at the moment. He's accompanying his sister on a quest. Good, it's keeping him busy. It's been raining too much since his break up, it's been days. Merv told me that it was almost always like that, frankly it's painful to watch. The time with this Nada, the time with his ex-wife, the time with another witch… I don't know what he has with witches. I didn't like her at all, she was mean."

“It rained in the Dreaming when I left ?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask, surprised by the news.

Before that day, she had always believed that her departure had had no impact. A total, cold indifference, showing that she no longer mattered. But Thessaly had talked about her room, and Matthew had talked about the rain, and Y/N didn't know what to think at all now.

She had left Morpheus because of his inability to communicate, the distance he put between himself and the whole world. His grand declarations of love always seemed hollow, lacking something.

Maybe he had changed. He would never have allowed his emissary to speak as Matthew did, who was moving around on his tree asking a thousand questions about the relationship between his boss and Y/N. He even allowed himself to order her to leave, because he really didn't need Dream falling into depression again by seeing her through his eyes.

"He's got enough problems, he… Oh. Oh, no. I feel it, he's there. Shit, shit, shit. I have to go !"

Years without any news and within moments Y/N hearing about her former lover almost every day. Until someone came to her door and she found herself face to face with Morpheus.

He seemed embarrassed. He had always been awkward in the waking world, out of place, because dreams hardly survived in reality. But there was something else. He would never have bothered to knock before. He would have come into her house to say what he had to say, demanding that she listen to him, and agree with him at the end.

Without saying anything, he observed her as if he were seeing her for the first time, turning his gaze towards her bedroom, the door of which was surrounded by several symbols used to repel dreams and nightmares. Y/N expected this to make him angry. He had already not liked her touching his domain when they first met.

"I thought you followed my sister into the sunless lands…" he whispered, looking down. "I no longer felt your presence in the Dreaming. I didn't think you were running away from me. It didn't seem to me that I gave you reasons to run away."

“I wasn’t sure you’d be happy to see me again.”

"I have waited a long time for the day when I would have the joy of seeing your sweet face again. It never came, but I am the one responsible for it. You were right about Hob Gadling, You were right about many things but I didn't listen, and I lost you. It was one of my greatest regrets."

“Why are you talking like that ?” Y/N asked as she approached, their hands almost touching.

"Mikri magissa, so much has happened. I am at a crossroads, with a big decision to make. I admit to being afraid, and you give me courage."

“Maybe I can help you ?”

"Even if you could, I wouldn't ask you. The search for my little sister is dangerous, a lot of blood has been shed since we left in search of our brother and I couldn't bear to see it happen to you. I had agreed to help her to see someone again, without understanding that it was you I secretly wanted to see, and now I must find a way to console my sister, disappointed by my lack of investment. But the only way we have left is one that I dare not name."

Y/N had briefly met Morpheus' family, including Destruction and Delirium.

The prodigal had spoken to her little before his retirement, but he had seemed tired, reaching the limits of his functions and no longer seeing the point of remaining with all the inventions of mortals and immortals which fulfilled his role perfectly without he needs to intervene. His siblings did not understand his decision.

One of the most affected by his departure had been Delirum, very close to his brother, who would have given anything for a family reunion.

"If this means your downfall, I can't believe Delirium would ask such a thing of you." Y/N said indignantly, not daring to come any closer. “There must be something else.”

"I don't think my younger sister is aware of what she's asking of me, nor do I think it's possible for me to go any other way without putting someone else in danger. I just came to see you, and thank you for what you did for Jessamy, and for the dreamers during my absence. I hadn't seen all these acts of kindness. But maybe it's you who didn't want to see me again. Not with my behavior. Oh, mágos mou… I so wanted to be better for you, but I could only change by going through all these trials, and for that I had to lose you."

It felt like goodbye, and Y/N didn’t like it. By definition, the Endless had no end, at least not while there was life in the universe. Without thinking, she placed her hand on Dream's cheek. He usually hated it, being touched, especially without permission, but he closed his eyes with a happy sigh, pressing his skin against hers.

Asking him if he was okay seemed stupid, but the question left her lips, and when his eyes opened again, they had a strange glow. He muttered that no one had asked him that question since his release. It was almost years ago. In truth, no one had asked him that question, even before he was captured.

Like he said, it could be because he had changed, and he didn't really deserve to be asked if he was okay before. And now that he was making an effort, that he was understanding, that he was improving, it was too late.

"I'll find a way. I'll talk to your sister."

“Delirium has always loved you.” he sighed. "My whole family, I think. I never noticed that our relationship is the only one that Desire hasn't tried to sabotage. But maybe they knew that I would sabotage it on my own."

“Let me talk to her.”

Much to Morpheus' surprise, his younger sister listened to Y/N. She even seemed to become Delight again for a moment, as the witch promised to find Destruction, even if it would take time. She just had to be patient, but also accept that it was possible that their brother didn't want to be found.

It was his decision to leave, as it was her decision to change, and Dream's decision to stay the same. But if she asked him to continue their quest, horrible things could happen, and she might lose another member of her family.

"… Okay. But you promise to look ?"

“I swear on our mother’s first ledger.”

"Several people have died trying to help us, Delirium… It's not safe to…"

"Oh, shut up. You'll be with her to protect her, you didn't care about the others. You're probably happy that Y/N came back. I'm happy too, she's nice, you two were good together. If you find our brother, then everything will be perfect."

Several spells, formulas and sacrifices were necessary to find the trail of the Prodigal, or Destruction took pity on them by inviting them to join him, but they talked, and as Y/N had predicted, he did not wish to return, but he entrusted them with a dog to give to his little sister.

Before disappearing between the stars, he took his big brother by the hand, walking together near the cliff, and whispering something to him.

"What did he say ?" Y/N couldn’t help but ask.

"He told me not to make the same mistakes and to think about myself for once. Not about my position, not about my kingdom, about nothing but me, and about you. O mágos mou, it's been a long time, but if you…"

The kiss cut him off in the middle of his question, time seemed to stop, and it was as if they had never left each other.

#sandman #the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless fanfiction #morpheus x reader

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dragonshoardofworks · 3 months

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DP x DCMK (x DC)

Where Danny and Shinichi meet at the Hawaii where's a Ghost Convention (pre-portal and Conan, when they're both around 11–12 years old) since both sets of parents are invested in the topic. (The Fentons because they're the Fentons and Yusaku because he's researching for one of his books).

They become friends and keep contacts through messages, sharing school shenanigans, crushes, cases and family mishaps.

The One Thing that Danny doesn't share, though, is his halfa status.

First, because Shinichi doesn't believe in the supernatural (according to him, magic is just unexplained science) and second, because his change is far from any kind of "normalcy" and Shinichi had categorically stated that he doesn't want anything to do with superheroes, he's just a "normal" detective and they (the Justice League) save the world.

Though, it's not unusual that, if something weird happens in a case, Shinichi asks Danny's opinion and intel since the Fenton's library has "weird"/obscure material. (If the answer gets him too close to superhero-stuff, Shinichi passes the ball to the JL, more specifically to Red Robin, but that's something for a following reblog of this thread.)

So when Shinichi becomes Conan and settles in Ran's home, he contacts our favorite boi.

(A bit late to the @crossoverdanuary party... (^～^;)ゞ Anyway, long post in chat-style, plus an extra, so I decided to use the read more function because it was getting out of hand... (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) )

Shinichi: Hey Danny, do you know anything that should be killing you, but instead it shrinks you? Danny: Shrink as in size or age? S: Age D: Hold on, gotta check some books to be sure, but usually anything age-related is dark shit. What's for? Fun or case? S: ...It's for a case D: Well, that didn't sound ominous at all, then gotta go *faster* *few minutes later* D: Okay, the closest thing (still in the Mortal Realm) to what you asked is this jewel most commonly known as "Pandora" (if she knew, she would definitely lose her shit) D: it's a gem hidden inside another gem that glows red under the moonlight D: "if bathed in the light of the Volley Comet, it would shed tears capable of granting eternal life" S: This doesn't sound anything like what I asked you (⁠눈⁠‸⁠눈⁠) D: Cut the sass beanpole and let me continue D: since the legend exist and it's documented, it should be reasonable to presume that someone managed to attain it, right? S: ...right *squinty eyes* D: So if some scientist tried to reproduce the same results in the *scientific way* instead of the magical one, they could have either the original "Tears" or the one who consumed them and run test and experiment on them D: whatever the case, there would be either some inferior or failed products that instead of making you immortal, *de-ages* you, which is the next best thing (i.e. you would live longer) D: but since they were "failures" compared to the immortality elixir, they could definitely become poisons. D: So! Since you were so ominous, was it really for a case or did our dear Professor Agasa dabble in alchemy? 👀 (read) D: Beanpole, I know you read my explanation and since this is really dark shit you *have* to at least give me context D: because among the warnings that the grimoire gave me, there's the thing that you become somewhat cursed S: ...Or you're cursed or you're not, there's no "somewhat" D: He speaks! 🙌 D: Give me *the deets* *long pause* D: *Shinichi Kudo* ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ S: Okay, fine! I can feel your disappointed stare all the way to Japan, stop! >Д< D: Then explain S: Okay S: so you know how I can't leave things alone when they have suspicious all printed on them? D: Your worst defect, yes, but continue D: ...wait D: Shinichi no D: HOW OLD ARE YOU NOW?? S: Still 17, thank you very much D: I mean physically, you little shit, don't dodge the question! S: ... S: ...we think 7 D: What in the Infinite Realms everloving fuck, Shinichi D: Okay, you know what? D: I'm coming to Japan and you can't stop me, you *midget*, I know what you're already going to say D: it's dangerous, yada yada D: nothing I've already seen and fought S: What do you mean?! D: Since you're *such a good detective*, deduce it yourself D: give me your coordinates in the meantime and don't you dare move from that spot S: If you send me Superman or anyone of his creek, I swear to Kami, Danny D: Please, Superman could only desire to be anything like me, now *coordinates* ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ *coordinates sent* D: good boy D: now get ready in 3 S: 3 what? D: 2 D: 1

🕵️👻

A full body shiver run over Shinichi as soon as the "1" appeared on the screen, so he looked up from his phone, searching for where the cold draft could have come from. However, the agency toilet window was closed and the closed door had a good insulation, last time he had checked.

So what...!

"Boo."

Shinichi shrieked with all the high pitch of an elementary schooler, as he whirled around to look at what, or better, who had whispered by his ear.

A white-haired green-eyed floating teenager with a black hazmat suit with white accents grinned almost maniacally at him, showing their fangs predatorily.

Anatomically they looked male and despite the unhinged expression, the body language didn't project "danger". If anything, it was loose and casual as if he (until otherwise stated) belonged here.

The unearthly glow suggested either some substance coating him that gave him that illusion, or there was magic afoot.

Irritation surged inside Shinichi: Danny knew his rules! No direct superhero meeting, only exchange of intel!

"Who are you and why did Fenton send you?" Shinichi gritted, crossing his arms to appear less like a 7 years old.

"You disappoint me, little detective, I thought you would have figured it out at first glance!" The supposed hero pouted, crossing legs and arms midair and staring back at Shinichi. "I guess that your fame had been an exaggeration, after all. Some East Highschool Detective you are!"

The teasing little smirk incensed Shinichi more than alarming him (the other knew his secret!), but the last thought made him pause.

Danny wouldn't betray him like this by informing whatever "superhero" of this situation just to help him without his consent. Their boundaries had been awesome like that and had been respected so far, despite the many trials both had faced.

So who was this person really?

Shinichi's mind focused back into deducing the teen before him, and the more looked, the more disbelief made way in his heart. (...He had said he would be coming to Japan, but not in that instant!)

"No way, Danny?"

"Fucking finally, midget! What took you so long?" Danny huffed, untangling then touching down on his feet and looking him over. "It even gave me time to take a look at your situation!"

"Hey! Your voice is different, so I could deduce it only because "if you exclude the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the Truth"! Since you would never spill my secrets to anyone, this must have been you!" Shinichi gestured to his friend, who flushed green when he registered the meaning of the words.

"Wow," he breathed, sounding pleased, as he scratched his nape, "you would believe that a ghost of me is still me instead of me betraying you, wow!"

"Wait, ghost? I thought you just become a superhero, not that you died!" Despite his insistence on not believing the supernatural, Shinichi had read the Fentons' papers on ghosts (the most recent ones, AKA the "no more biased version" as Danny had called them). And, while he hadn't told his friend this, the scientific breakdown of what makes a ghost what they are, had made Shinichi believe in the existence of ectoplasmic beings.

But to discover that one of his best friends had died, he hadn't known or could have done anything, plus Danny hadn't felt safe enough to tell him until it had become unavoidable, made Shinichi clutch his heart in agony and despair.

Probably sensing the shift and interpreting the action for what that was, Danny's face shifted into regret, as he knelt down before the shrunk detective and a ring of light lit up at his waist, washing over him and leaving a hoodie-and-jeans-clad raven-haired and blue-eyed teenager.

Slowly, as if not to spook a frozen Shinichi, Danny laid a hand on his shoulder, while the other took the free little hand to his NASA hoodies chest and splayed it there, allowing him to feel his heartbeat. As if he had known that only words wouldn't have been enough to convince the detective.

Slowly but surely, feeling Danny's sluggish but steady heartbeat, made Shinichi unclench, then lean against his friend's chest, head tucked under his chin.

Carefully, Danny wrapped his friend in a hug, knowing well that, while physical affection was welcome from him, Japanese social conventions and the Kudo's upbringing had left Shinichi a little adverse to prolonged contact.

As the apparent 7-years-old melted into the embrace and clutched Danny as well, followed by a suspicious wet sensation on his chest, the halfa realized that this was bad.

Shinichi had never sought comfort like that, according to professor Agasa (who Danny did keep in contact with, since he was more a parent than the Kudos), so to do this now...

"It's okay, Shinichi, I'll explain better what happened to me, but it's not your fault." Shinichi shuddered at these words and buried deeper in the embrace, making guilt shoot through Danny. He had caused this breakdown. The least he could do was to help him through it and some.

"And we're gonna find a way to solve what happened to you, I promise."

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themanicnami · 1 year

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Invisibility In Witchcraft

Invisibility is something we see in all different types of media for a very long time - superhero comics and movies, Harry Potter book and movie series, fairy tales and lore from several countries. It is one of those powers that even in modern science they have been trying to create true invisible cloaks and armor for military use. Though invisibility in literature and movies is not the same as when we refer to it in witchcraft. So let us talk about this aspect of magic today, a brief history and even some modern day spells.

What is Invisibility Magic?

Invisibility magic is magic of concealing oneself, others, places and objects from detection. As stated above it is not in the literal sense of you vanishing from sight however think of it like a cloaking device - it helps you go unnoticed or makes you less likely to be observed. Of course take this with a grain of salt - magic has its limits. However, an invisibility spell can help you as an additional buffer of protection. Often times, invisibility spells are to ensure special items you have hidden away go undetected such as your grimoire on a bookshelf or sigils of protection scattered about your home, it can also be used for oneself or others to help them travel in safety.

History

Old manuscripts and grimoires dating back to the 1600s have been found describing spells for invisibility. These such spells include chanting, potions and rituals said to help the caster ‘vanish’ from people’s views or travel unseen. One of these manuscripts has been archived if you wish to see it here and another here please keep in mind these are old scripts and may not be safely done today - do your research on ingredients and if they are safe to use modernly.

Though invisibility in witchcraft is a bit harder to dig up, invisibility has a long and rich history in religion, folklore and tales. Many creatures, spirits and persons of lore, legend and story through the centuries are said to vanish without a trace or go unseen by normal people.

In the cases of witchcraft though it is harder to find information on it, as listed above some old manuscripts were found listing methods of invisibility. Some other methods listed have been carrying the heart of a bat or a toad or frog under one’s garments (or their right arm) can render you harder to detect. Others speak about how black hens and chickens may be related to invisibility by using their feathers as charms. Mercury historically was used as a method to be deemed invisible, with using it to make jewelry or charms a popular method - however perhaps not safe in modern day terms. Another grimoire called “The Second Book of the Secrets of Albertus Magnus” states that wrapping an Ophethalminus stone in a Laurel leaf will render the wielder invisible. What is an Ophethalminus stone? It is commonly accepted and believed he was referring to a Lapis Lazuli stone.

Correspondences

Of course modern day invisibility calls for more modern day correspondences - to help insure the user and caster are using ingredients that relate to what they seek. Below is a brief list of some correspondences - please research before ingesting or applying anything to the skin. Research possible allergic reactions, side effects and complications of medicinal herbs and plants. Research all stones you use before subjecting them to heat, water or oil.

Plants and Herbs:

Amaranth

Black Hellebore (toxic)

Cherry/Cherry Bark

Chicory

Devil’s Shoestring/Black Haw

Edelweiss

Fern

Heliotrope (toxic)

Henbane (toxic)

Laurel

Mistletoe

Monkshood

Poppy

Sow’s Thistle

Tansy

Wolf’s Bane (toxic)

Colors:

Black

White

Gray

Lavender

Elements:

Air

Water

Spirit

Crystals and Stones:

Amethyst

Calcite

Lapis Lazuli

Moonstone

Obsidian

Peacock Ore

Silver Topaz

Smokey Quartz

Metals:

Mercury

Silver

Tools and Other Items:

Mirrors (Black Mirrors)

Sigils

Smoke

Black Ink

Toads/Frogs (symbolism)

Bats (symbolism)

Mist and Fog

Wind

Chicken Feathers

Moonlight

Black Candles

Gray Candles

Modern Spells (note some are not mine, they will be sourced and linked to their original posters)

Invisibility Enchantment- Wishful- Seeker

Some Spellcraft for an Invisibility Ring - smoke-weed-and-hail-thor

Air cloaking glamour - thegildedraven

Invisibility Spell to be Forgotten - breelandwalker

Night walking invisibility and protection glamour - magicianmew

(cheap) Invisibility Spells for Anxious Witches - becomingwitchy

Invisibility - Pathfinder inspired Sachet Spell - Mine!

Shadow Usul’s Night Invisibility Glamour Sachet - Mine!

Chameleon Eye Shadow - Totally Spies Spell - Mine!

Like what I post? Want to support me or buy me a delicious coffee? Feel free to check out my Ko-Fi Page!

#witchcraft #masterpost #invisibility #glamours #invisibility in witchcraft #invisibility in magic #long post #invisibility spells #correspondences #willow's grimoire

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fairy-writes · 1 year

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Last post of the day I swear… but I’m getting ready to post my Viktor x OC story called “Grimoire of Imogen” (you can find the cover and summary if you search the book title or just ‘imogen’ in my tumblr search bar) and thought I’d post a snippet from the beginning of chapter one!

Snippet:

The darkened night was alive with the sounds of rain slicing through the air like knives. A platoon of guards was shouting; no, bellowing orders and commands as they chased something through the pitch-black forest. Torches sputtered in the rain and moonless night, clouds hiding even the stars from view.

Armored horses screamed, plunging through the flooding water from a nearby river. The frigid water turned the forest into raging rapids, submerging tree roots in a frothy white torrent. Overhanging branches caught on the guard’s helmets and shoulders like clawed hands dragging them down. The knights drew gleaming swords and hacked at the branches as they forged forward with furious cries.

Massive creatures that looked like mixes of crocodiles and wolves; howled, bayed, and thrashed at the end of their chains as they led the guards. They screeched in glee. Blood and saliva hung from their jaws as they followed a scent over fallen logs and under outcroppings of rock. The torrent of water couldn’t stop the creatures. They tore through it like a hot knife through butter.

Their target?

Three cloaked fugitives that were desperately trying to get away.

#viktor arcane #arcane viktor #arcane: league of legends #arcane #arcane league of legends #Viktor #grimoire of Imogen #imogen

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coinandcandle · 2 years

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Aphrodite Deity Guide

Aphrodite is the Greek goddess of love, sex, fertility, and beauty. She is known by the Romans as Venus. I've become interested in working for Aphrodite recently.

This is from my personal grimoire but I tried to remove anything that is an opinion or bias.

Quote from Trisha Mateer's "Aphrodite Made Me Do It"; banner by me.

Who is Aphrodite?

Strongly associated with love and beauty, Aphrodite is also worshipped as a sea-fairing goddess as she is associated with the ocean.

Some places, most notably Sparta, Thebes, and Cyprus honored her as a goddess of war.

In the epic Theogony, the author tells how Aphrodite was born from the severed genitals of Uranus, personification of heaven. The genitals were tossed into the sea by Cronus and out rose Aphrodite.

The goddess gets her namesake from the Greek work aphros which means “foam”.

Parents and Siblings of Aphrodite

Uranus

Sometimes it’s said that she is the daughter of Zeus and Dione.

If she was the daughter of Ouranos, her siblings include the Titans, such as Cronus, Rhea, Hyperion, and others.

If Aphrodite was one of the daughters of Zeus, she had many half siblings since he had multiple affairs. Hephaestus, Ares, Athena, Artemis, Apollo, Hermes, Dionysus and Persephone were all her half siblings, and she didn’t have any direct siblings

Aphrodite’s Lovers

Hephaestus is her husband

Ares is her most prominent affair

Anchises, a mortal with whom she gave birth to Aeneas

Adonis, a handsome young man who was killed by a boar while hunting and was lamented by women at the festival of Adonia. (britannia)

Dionysus

Zeus

Hermes

Phaethon

Posideon

Butes

Aphrodite’s Children

From the mortal Anchises, Aeneas, a mythical hero of Troy and Rome, and Lyrus/Lyrnus.

From Butes, Eryx, Meligounis and several more unnamed daughters.

Hymenaios, Iacchus, Priapus, the Charites (Graces: Aglaea, Euphrosyne, Thalia) from Dionysus

Phobos, Deimos, Harmonia, the Erotes (Eros), Anteros, Himeros, Pothos from Ares

Hermaphroditos, Priapus from Hermes

Rhodos from Posideon

Beroe, Golgos, Priapus (rarely) from Adonis

Astynous from Phaethon

Priapus from Zeus.

Peitho from an unknown father. Though Peitho is also considered one of Aphrodite’s epithets.

Epithets

“…she is Cythereia, she of Cythêra; and Cypria, she of Cyprus, where at Paphos she had her great sanctuary. Living in islands her way was ever on the sea.”

-Jane Harrison Myths of Greece and Rome

Aphrodite Urania (also spelt Ourania)

Aphrodite Pandemos

Venus Genatrix

Peitho, meaning persuasion,

Philommeidḗs, which means "smile-loving", but is sometimes mistranslated as "laughter-loving".

Cypris and Cythereia for her association of Cyprus and Cythera

On Cyprus, Aphrodite was sometimes called Eleemon

In Athens, she was known as Aphrodite en kopois ("Aphrodite of the Gardens”)

At Cape Colias, a town along the Attic coast, she was venerated as Genetyllis "Mother".

Aphrodite Euploia ('of the fair voyage')

Across the Greek world, she was known under epithets such as:

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The Spartans worshipped her as:

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Misc Notes

Many of the epithets are names or titles from various cults that worshipped Aphrodite.

Prostitutes identified Aphrodite as their patron deity.

A male version of Aphrodite known as Aphroditus was worshipped in the city of Amathus on Cyprus. Aphroditus was depicted with the figure and dress of a woman, but had a beard and was shown lifting his dress to reveal an erect phallus. This gesture was believed to be an apotropaic symbol, and was thought to convey good fortune upon the viewer. Eventually, the popularity of Aphroditus waned as the mainstream, fully feminine version of Aphrodite became more popular, but traces of his cult are preserved in the later legends of Hermaphroditus.

It’s likely that Aphrodite was brought over from the Eastern Mediterranean, hinting to Phoenician goddess Astarte or the near Eastern goddess Inanna (Ishtar).

The Petra Tou Romaniou also named “Aphrodite’s Rock” is a sea stack said to be a marker of where she was born. This rock is by a beach in Paphos, Cyrpus.

She was specifically the protectress of city magistrates.

Correspondences

Disclaimer - Not all of these are traditional or historic correspondences nor do they need to be. However, any correspondence that can be considered traditional will be marked with a (T).

Rocks/Stone/Crystals/Metals

Rose Quartz

Pearl

Aquamarine

Sapphire

Silver

Rose Gold

Gold

Sea Glass

Herbs/Plants

Roses (T)

Myrtle flowers(T)

Apples (T)

Pomegranates (T)

Rosemary

Animals

Dove (T)

Sparrows (T)

Water Fowls including swans, geese, and ducks (T)

Possible Dolphins, as she is often depicted with them.

Symbols

Conch shell (T)

Mirror (T)

Girdle (T)

Offerings

Statues or art of her

Incense (T)

Cakes or pastries (T)

Chocolate

Candles (T)

Strawberries

Traditional items like roses, wine, myrtle, apples, and pomegranates seeds. (T)

Jewelry

Olives, Olive oil, or olive branches (T)

Praise, just tell her how cool and how pretty she is!

Pretty things

Makeup

Honey

Acts of Devotion

Write or recite poetry about Aphrodite (T)

Read hymns written for her/create your own! (Here's Sappho's Hymn to Aphrodite) (T)

Practicing self care, dedicating that good energy to her

Dressing up/putting on an outfit that makes you feel attractive

Glamour spells

Putting on makeup inspired by her

Sex magic (proceed with caution)

Celebrate Adonia (T)

Research her history and mythology. (You can make notes from this post if you'd like, check out the links below, or feel free to do your own research!)

Keep in mind that these are only some ideas for offerings and correspondences! Items and activities that connect you to her in a more personal way are just as good, and often better, than those you find on the internet. As with any relationship, feel it out, ask questions, and be attentive and receptive!

References and Further Reading

Aphrodite - Britannia

Aphrodite (Venus) - Myths of Greece and Rome by Jane Harrison (via Sacred-Texts)

Poems of Sappho collection by J.B. Hare (via Sacred-Texts)

Aphrodite - World History Encyclopedia

Aphrodite - Theoi Project

Aphrodite - Wikipedia

Aphrodite - Greekmythology.com

Aphrodite Made Me Do It by Trisha Mateer

#deity guide #aphrodite #witchcraft #pagan #deity work #Aphrodite Deity #Venus Deity #Aphrodite Deity Guide #Aphrodite worship #hellenism #polytheism #grimoire #Coin's Grimoire

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Legend of Zelda green Grimoire Leather journal // ChamunClassic

#ChamunClassic #journal #legend of zelda #loz #game #gaming #notebook #stationery #decor

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la-femme-au-collier-vert · 23 days

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So you want to learn about Louisiana Voodoo…

door in New Orleans by Jean-Marcel St. Jacques

For better or worse (almost always downright wrong) Louisiana Voodoo and Hoodoo are likely to come up in any depiction of the state of Louisiana. I’ve created a list of works on contemporary and historical Voodoo/Hoodoo for anyone who’d like to learn more about what this tradition is and is not (hint: it developed separately from Haitian Vodou which is its own thing) or would like to depict it in a non-stereotypical way. I’ve listed them in chronological order. Please keep a few things in mind. Almost all sources presented unfortunately have their biases. As ethnographies Hurston’s work no longer represent best practices in Anthropology and has been suspected of embellishment and sensationalism on this topic. Additionally the portrayal is of the religion as it was nearly 100 years ago- all traditions change over time. Likewise Teish is extremely valuable for providing an inside view into the practice but certain views, as on Ancient Egypt, may be offensive now. I have chosen to include the non-academic works by Alvarado and Filan for the research on historical Voodoo they did with regards to the Federal Writer’s Project that is not readily accessible, HOWEVER, this is NOT a guide to teach you to practice this closed tradition, and again some of the opinions are suspect- DO NOT use sage, which is part of Native practice and destroys local environments. I do not support every view expressed but think even when wrong these sources present something to be learned about the way we treat culture

*Start with Osbey, the shortest of the works. To compare Louisiana Voodoo with other traditions see the chapter on Haitian Vodou in Creole Religions of the Caribbean by Olmos and Paravinsi-Gebert. Additionally many songs and chants were originally in Louisiana Creole (different from the Louisiana French dialect), which is now severely endangered. You can study the language in Ti Liv Kreyol by Guillery-Chatman et. Al.

Le Petit Albert by Albertus Parvus Lucius (1706) grimoire widely circulated in France in the 18th century, brought to the colony & significantly impacted Hoodoo

Mules and Men by Zora Neale Hurston (1935)

Spirit World-Photographs & Journal: Pattern in the Expressive Folk Culture of Afro-American New Orleans by Michael P. Smith (1984)

Jambalaya: The Natural Woman's Book of Personal Charms and Practical Rituals by Luisah Teish (1985)

Eve’s Bayou (1997), film

Spiritual Merchants: Religion, Magic, and Commerce by Carolyn Morrow Long (2001)

A New Orleans Voodoo Priestess: The Legend and Reality of Marie Laveau by Carolyn Morrow Long (2006)

“Yoruba Influences on Haitian Vodou and New Orleans Voodoo” by Ina J. Fandrich (2007)

The New Orleans Voodoo Handbook by Kenaz Filan (2011)

“Why We Can’t Talk To You About Voodoo” by Brenda Marie Osbey (2011)

Mojo Workin': The Old African American Hoodoo System by Katrina Hazzard-Donald (2013)

The Tomb of Marie Laveau In St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 by Carolyn Morrow Long (2016)

Lemonade, visual album by Beyonce (2016)

How to Make Lemonade, book by Beyonce (2016)

“Work the Root: Black Feminism, Hoodoo Love Rituals, and Practices of Freedom” by Lyndsey Stewart (2017)

The Lemonade Reader edited by Kinitra D. Brooks and Kameelah L. Martin (2019)

The Magic of Marie Laveau by Denise Alvarado (2020)

In Our Mother’s Gardens (2021), documentary on Netflix, around 1 hour mark traditional offering to the ancestors by Dr. Zauditu-Selassie

“Playing the Bamboula” rhythm for honoring ancestors associated with historical Voodoo

Voodoo and Power: The Politics of Religion in New Orleans 1880-1940 by Kodi A. Roberts (2023)

The Marie Laveau Grimoire by Denise Alvarado (2024)

Voodoo: An African American Religion by Jeffrey E. Anderson (2024)

#I’ll continue to update as I find more sources #Please be respectful of other people’s religion #Louisiana Voodoo #Louisiana Hoodoo #In the case of authors behind a paywall or whom you do not wish to support I highly recommend your local library #I do not support every view but think even when wrong they present something to be learned about the way we treat culture #Voodoo #Hoodoo #conjure #rootwork #Books

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