#caligari spell

[retrodreamgirl]

free love | steve harrington x fem!reader

social etiquette...

summary: you aren't sure when things got so horrible, but you can always count on steve's love being free of charge [1.3k]

warnings: fem!reader, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, slight panic, pet names, established relationship

i wrote this for the social etiquette couple but ig you don't have to read it to understand (pls read it 🤍)

⤜♡→

“Oh, Stevie, you scared me.” You don’t sound scared and Steve made absolutely sure to sufficiently jostle the keyring on his backpack before he tapped your shoulder. You lay in your usual spot by the lake, probably thinking about something indiscernible to anyone but you. You shuffle so your head is resting in his lap when he lowers beside you, humming in kind when he leans over you for a quick kiss. 

“Sorry, I’ll be louder next time.” His knuckle coasts the edge of your jaw, skin cool and kissed by the wind. “Where’s your head?” 

“Screwed on extra tight today I think. I was just wondering, shouldn’t someone have rebuked Dr. Mabuse at the end of that movie?” Another reference that goes right over Steve’s head. He was there when you watched the film, but the fact that he doesn't speak a lick of German was entirely lost on him until the end of the movie when he resurfaced from his affections on your neck and down and down and down… “I mean, won’t he just do the same thing to the next person who walks through the door?” 

“That’s the guy with the cabinet, right?” 

“No, I’m talking about The Testament of Dr. Mabuse you’re thinking of The Cabinet of Dr Caligari.” 

“Baby, you should just write movies.” You scoff, something Steve doesn’t catch often unless you’re feeling especially put out. 

He’s constantly trying to impress you, flatter you with his endless arsenal of sweet nothings. You’re not so easily moved, often already onto your next thought or conjuring a swift response to avoid the reality of his words altogether. 

“I’m always writing movies. I don’t think anyone would like them.” 

“I would.” He’d gladly worship you at any altar, the sole collector of all your significance, a shrine to be created from his deepest affections. He’s still sheepish about admitting it, not always entirely sure you feel the same.

“You’re a puddle today. I’m getting all soggy.” You mean to tell him he’s pretty, but you don’t think he’d believe you and it’s better to lift your finger to the apple of his cheek so it sinks into the skin. 

“Well, I could take you inside and warm you up, but it’ll cost you.” It feels like a victory when you don’t think about it for more than a second. You stand, stretching your limbs in every direction until they pop. You hold out your hand, seriously curious that Steve is still sitting there staring up at you. 

“Sometimes I think you’ve forgotten your words just after you’ve said them.” You don’t blame him, your mind is too cluttered with every thought you’ve ever had. You constantly find it embarrassing to sift through the ones you’ve already shared so you just don’t say anything at all. 

“I haven’t told you the cost yet.” He falls onto his back, waiting for your inquisitiveness to get the better of you. 

“Oh. Well you know I was just thinking earlier today, why should there be a cost for anything? It’s awfully gross to be spending so much time worrying about the cost of things, it’ll make someone never wanna do anything at all.” 

“Baby, I just want a couple of kisses.” Steve says it in a way that doesn’t dismiss you. It’s never his intention to make you feel ignored or like he doesn’t value everything you say. If he were disciplined enough he’d carry a journal with every word you’ve ever uttered in his presence complete with his own personal touch of spelling mistakes and abbreviations for words he thinks he understands but still doesn’t quite catch and could never repeat. “But you’re right, we should just steal everything.” 

“Stevie-” You toe at his hip, not at all impressed with his addition to your small spiel. 

“How’s this, you can have my love for free. Yours forever.” He’s giving you a toothache, the heat of just a few words itching at your neck. He grabs at your ankle still pushing against his side, not too prudish to cuff your jeans enough to kiss your bare ankle. To Steve, nothing he gives you costs a thing and he’d do anything to get you to see it. 

You never know what to do with him, wondering how much of all this you actually deserve, so used to having things taken away the moment you learn to enjoy them. Steve doesn’t seem like one of those things, the taken away kind. 

It’s been months since you kissed in that theater and he’s made it his mission to show you just how much he wanted to stick around. It never made sense to you, but you’re too afraid to question it. Until now.

“Steve, you shouldn’t say things like that.” 

It breaks Steve’s heart when he hears how incredibly sad you are about it. He takes a second to decide how best to approach it because he’s not sure what you mean. Whether you don’t want his love or you think he doesn’t wanna give it to you. 

It feels silly to him that the latter could ever be true, suddenly scolded when all he wanted was cuddles and maybe a few kisses to warm you both up. You’ve done it now, hugging your torso and staring out at the lake so tortured with everything. Nothing either of you say could possibly be mild enough to ignore it.

“What’s going on?” Sue him, but Steve wants nothing more than to tackle you in the grass, smush kisses to every inch of your face until it’s all better, but he doesn’t think it would work. You’re too stuck in your own head and he loves it until he realizes he can’t crawl inside and get stuck there with you. 

“I’m just…well I don’t know. I think I must be being ridiculous, but I never know how to stop it and now I’ve taken it too far because you noticed!” You don’t know when it started to feel so dreadful that you started crying, but Steve is already there with his thumbs stealing the tears before they escape too far down your cheeks. 

“Baby, you’re not ridiculous! I’m your boyfriend, I’m supposed to notice everything. Especially when my best girl isn’t feeling too good.” He hushes you, lips soft where they rest prolonged on your forehead. He takes a moment to allow both of you the patience of steadying your breathing. 

“But I don’t even know what’s wrong.” You hiccup, sounding disappointed in yourself and it breaks Steve entirely. “I don’t think I’ve ever known what’s wrong and now I’m realizing how awful it is.” 

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not-”

“It is.” Steve is adamant, leaning back enough to see your eyes focused on the zipper of his hoodie, finger lifting enough to slip through the circled hole on the tiny metal contraption. “You don’t always have to know, but that doesn’t make the way you feel any less important.”

“You probably think I’m horrible.” 

“I’d never think that. You know if I could climb into your cute little ears and get rid of all those annoying things that make you feel like this I would.” Another kiss, this time a peck to the button of your nose. He can tell you’re coming down a little, but he’s not sure if the slight tremor in your shoulders is from the cold. He pulls you a little closer.

“You know, they aren’t so bad once you get to know them. Sometimes they’re a little nice to me.” He has the foresight to laugh, your humor something that constantly catches him off guard when you let him in on it so easily.

“Well until they’re always nice to you, don’t make you cry, I don’t wanna meet ‘em.” 

“Okay…Stevie?” 

“Yeah, beautiful?” 

“I think I’d love it if you could take me inside now. I don’t mind paying.” 

Steve is feeling lucky today, the second joke consoling the side of him that isn’t sure how to feel about how he handled things. He takes it as a small win when your hand softly settles on the curve of his jaw, angling it down enough so you can reach his lips for a sweet kiss.

“Anything you want, baby.” 

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things

[singofsolace]

“I didn’t know you could do that.” for Zelda x Lilith

Thank you so much for this prompt! It really sparked some immediate inspiration for a pairing I haven't written for in awhile. Who knows, maybe this will be what sends me back to all my Madam Spellman WIPS! 💜

This little ficlet explores a gift of Zelda's that was originally meant to be part of the show but was later dropped: telekinesis.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Zelda x Lilith ❤️ Word Count: 571

Check it out:

Zelda doesn’t even remember what the fight was about. All she knows is that one minute Lilith was sitting in her parlor, sipping her tea, and having a civilized conversation about something or other, and the next, every object and piece of furniture in the room was hovering three feet from the ground.

“Zelda?” Lilith says, her eyes half fear and half curiosity. “Zelda, why don’t you take a breath?”

Zelda tries, she really does, but the breath gets caught in her throat. She feels immediately dizzy, the sitting room blurring around the edges until the only thing she can see is Lilith standing there in a red dress, her hands held in front of her, like she’s trying to calm a particularly dangerous and easily-spooked mare.

“Zelda,” Lilith repeats, her voice almost pleading, and Zelda remembers the last time Lilith begged, and she thinks a bloodletting might hurt less than the shame of having turned this woman away. 

Lilith reaches out to touch her arm, and Zelda can’t help flinching back. Suddenly, her unconscious magic snaps like a rubber band, and all the objects come crashing to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Zelda whispers, hating how small and weak her voice sounds. “I… I didn’t mean to.”

Lilith reaches towards her again, slower this time, and Zelda bites her lip, closes her eyes, and forces herself not to move away. 

“Look at me,” Lilith says, and though it is a command, there is a note of hesitancy to it, that lets Zelda know she is no longer under the Caligari spell, and if she would prefer not to follow the order, there would be no punishment.

Zelda opens her eyes. Lilith is looking at her with wonder, now, and not fear. 

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Lilith inclines her head to indicate the mess Zelda’s magic has made of the room. Lilith smiles, then, and it sends a funny feeling fluttering through her stomach.

“Telekinesis,” Zelda offers, and of course, Lilith knows what it was, but it’s the only word her mind could come up with by way of explanation.

“Impressive.” Lilith’s smile widens to show her teeth. “It takes most witches a lifetime to harness that kind of power, and most never demonstrate that level of control.”

Zelda scoffs, shaking her head. “What control? Those objects levitated against my will.”

“Even more impressive,” Lilith’s hand squeezes her elbow in support. “How you managed to hide that level of natural ability from me for so long is astonishing. I knew you were a gifted witch, Miss Spellman, but that display tells me I still have much to learn about the extent of your talents.”

“Please, call me Zelda,” she offers, avoiding Lilith’s gaze again. “And thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Lilith admonishes, but there’s only fondness in her tone, and not criticism. “I didn’t give you that power. And neither did the Dark Lord, I might add. That’s something deeper, something purer and more dangerous than anything even Hecate could give you.”

“What is it, then?” Zelda challenges, wondering how this ability she’d had since childhood could possibly be something special, when she’d been punished for it all her life—first by her father, and then by any number of teachers at the Academy.

Lilith’s smile reaches her eyes and takes on a slightly terrifying glimmer. 

“Why, it’s chaos magic, my dear.”

#zelda spellman #lilith #madam spellman

[multimilfs]

Zelda Spellman x Fem!Reader: On The Basis of Understanding

Summary: ghostsunderstoodmysoul requested "Hi, darling! I didn't want to bother you so quickly, especially since you just wrote something at my request. But sorry, I couldn't resist seeing that Zelda is also on your masterlist. I was thinking about something where the reader was bitten by a werewolf and every now and then turns into one herself. She can't deal with the fact that something independent of her is taking control of her body, and she can't do much about it. And here comes Zelda, who also suffered a similar trauma when the Caligari spell was placed on her, and she herself had no power over her body. Maybe something in the context of their developing relationship? They both support each other, Zelda teaches the sensitive reader to overcome her fears and helps her control her "powers", and in return she shows Zelda what tenderness, affection and care mean. Thank you in advance and have a lovely day!"

A/N: Now I hope you all don't think I forgot about the requests in my asks.... I didn't! They're just taking a while to get to, you know, with the burnout and all. This was the first one I ever tried to write again so it was written over the course of a few months, forgive any errors or lack of fluidity on that end.

Happy halloween!!! 🎃

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix @escapetodreamworld @angel7376

Warning(s): Brief descriptions of violence

It’s that time again. The time when your skin itches unpleasantly, breaking out into a permanent set of goosebumps and your nail beds ache, the skin splitting like a bad hangnail. You wrap bandages around your fingers in hopes of quelling some of the pain until your transformation. 

The physical changes are only a temporary side effect, one that you welcome. They mean peace for a few days after; no voices, no urges, just blissful quiet and energy eventually floods your body like you’d slept for days. 

Then it ends. You open your eyes to a heavy feeling in your chest. Voices, whispers in the back of your mind prod you without end—eat this, do that, kill them. The little control you have goes to staving off those urges. 

No one notices, praise Lilith, but it's miserable. 

A hand settles on your arm and you turn to meet inquiring eyes. Zelda examines your face like she can understand exactly how you feel. Most of the time, she wasn’t too far off. 

“Have you prepared for this evening?” Zelda’s eyes dart briefly to your wrapped fingers. 

“As much as I normally do.” You answer. 

This prompts an eyeroll. Her hand leaves your arm, coming to rest on her hip as the other holds a lit cigarette. She inhales slowly, breathing it out in a quick puff. Then once more just for flair. 

“Which is to say you’ve done nothing.” She states—no question in her tone, just a knowing glare. 

“It’s a little counterproductive to prepare for something you can’t predict.” 

“Perhaps it would be more predictable if you were.” 

You laugh. A bitter note creeps into your chest, tinging the amusement with something angry. If only it could be that easy. You thrive on routine, but this… beast inside of you does everything to fight against it. Being predictable would go against its very nature. 

“If you say so, Zelda.” 

“You know this could be avoided if you allowed me to be there,” She says, inclining her head and flourishing with a hand as she speaks, “but you choose to doubt my skills.” “There is nothing about doubting your skill involved. I’m choosing not to put you in danger.” You say. The conversation alone is giving you a headache, though it’s one you have often. 

“I’m quite capable of protecting myself.” 

Humming, you let the conversation lapse into silence. It isn’t comfortable now, but soon enough it will be. You greatly admire Zelda’s willingness to help, the problem is that by helping she puts herself in danger. Too many people have been willing to put her at risk and you refuse to do the same. 

This is something you’ll figure out alone. If you hurt someone, especially Zelda, you will never forgive yourself. 

Your shoulders tense, flashes of images running behind your eyes; cruel nightmares brought on by your affliction. Nightmares of the beast taking over, rendered useless as it tears the woman apart. Bile rises in your throat as your stomach turns. 

Her hand settles on your arm once more, eyes apologetic. You give her a small smile. 

“The wards will allow you in, should you need my help.” Zelda murmurs. 

“Thank you.” 

The staccato of heels grows quiet as she walks down the hall and into her office. You let out a breath, closing your eyes and trying to push away the horrid images. Why is this your fate, of all things? Is it too much to ask for control over your own mind? 

Class doors open around you, forcing your movement. Your free period is over. In a few minutes, a class will await you, full of curious young witches and warlocks who are completely oblivious to their professor’s lack of control, lack of being. 

With your mind clouded by worry, the rest of the day passes quickly. It’s like a blur where you feel in control and yet, not present. It isn’t you speaking or moving; you watch from outside yourself as it all happens. You would blame it on the other part of yourself, but it has no involvement. It’s too busy getting ready for the full moon. 

Fear creeps in slowly, leaving you frozen in your living room. That’s all you remember before everything goes black. 

—

Something… hard is pressed against the side of your body. Not hot or cold, but lacking in any sort of temperature, and uncomfortable. You shift and something tugs at your arm. A pin-prick of pressure, pulled and released in an instant. The groan that leaves your mouth is something less than human, forcing you to open your eyes and look down. 

Splayed in front of you are two long legs covered in fur. You shift from laying on your side to laying on your stomach, feeling that familiar prickling as the wooden boards pull at your fur. The only thing allowing you to see in the surrounding darkness is an overhead light and your enhanced vision. You’re on a porch, one you don’t recognize until glancing at the door. 

Zelda Spellman stands in the doorway, leaning against the wood, smoke framing her face. She watches you with only a curious glance. You can’t believe you hadn’t caught the cigarette before, it’s stench overwhelming; unpleasant if not for the way it mingled with Zelda’s perfume. 

“Took you long enough.” She sighs, further framing herself with the smoke, “Come inside.” 

Your body moves before your mind can catch up. As if you’re on autopilot, you stand on aching haunches, moving towards her. It isn’t until your mind becomes present that you stop. That familiar voice, though faint, was ordering you not to obey—not to follow the orders of a witch. 

Before, this voice’s desires would be law, forcing you onto an alternate path. Now it was a suggestion. You continue in spite of its angry cries, following Zelda up the steps and into a room you’ve seen before. You hesitate. 

“I’ve had the sheets changed for you, go on.” Zelda urges.

Unfamiliar warmth fills your chest as you leap onto the bed. She had no idea you’d come, but made the effort anyway. The covers, no matter how old and worn, were reserved for you. You have some small place in the Spellman house. Even if it is temporary, it’s more than you had before. 

You turn, working out lumps that aren’t there. Curling in on your body, your ears twitch. A soft sigh catches them before the door closes and you’re alone. Left with the faint scent of cigarette smoke and Zelda, you settle in for the remaining hours of the night. 

—

“Hilda, don’t disturb her. She’s had a long night.” A voice hisses through your exhaustion. 

“I’m giving her some clothes.” Hilda hisses back. 

The lack of twitching in your ears is reassurance of being human once more. You try not to move too much or breathe too fast, so Hilda won’t worry that she’d woken you. If Zelda got on her case, you’d feel horrible. 

“You’ve done more than enough, now shoo.” Zelda whispers, her voice losing some of its bite. 

“I’m going, I’m going!” 

Hilda’s steps fade, but you can still feel a presence. Zelda. Her warmth seeps into your body despite her place across the room. Eyes pierce your flesh and continue to do so until you open your own. 

“Good morning.” You murmur, meeting her eyes. 

“It’s closer to the afternoon, but yes, good morning.” Zelda says. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” 

You shoot up, just managing to remember your state of dress before the blanket falls. Some time during the night you burrowed below the covers. Now, they’re the only layer between you and Zelda’s stare. 

The near-slip makaes Zelda’s lips twitch, a smirk beginning to form. You would glare if the energy was available to you. But when you shoot up, your vision begins to spin, and your head feels heavy. 

“I’m not in the habit of giving my guests a schedule. You needed the rest.” 

“Still, I feel… rude for intruding on your home and then missing breakfast.” 

“As if Hilda could think of you as anything other than a delight. She’s saved you more than a fair portion of her food and excitement.” Zelda scoffs, but can’t hide the note of fondness when talking about her sister. 

“Thank her for me, will you? For that and the clothes.” You smile, motioning to the neatly folded shirt and pants at your feet. 

“You can thank her yourself after you get dressed.” 

Zelda makes no effort to move and you glare. Rolling her eyes, she covers them. She sees no point in your efforts to conceal your form, being around for ages makes the stigma around the human anatomy trivial to her, especially since she’s of the same sex. But she respects your desire for privacy. 

“Something was different last night, wasn’t it?” She asks, eyes still covered as you dress. 

Now that you think of it… something had been different. Though you can’t quite place your finger on it. All you know is that you felt better this morning, less tired than after previous transformations. 

“It was, I believe. Though I’m not sure what changed.” You answer honestly, finally coming to button the pants you were offered, “You can look now.” 

Zelda lowers her hand, taking in your appearance and nodding. Then she sits back in her chair. You notice a short glass on the table next to her, no doubt filled with a sophisticated mix of alcohol, despite the early hour. 

“You seemed more like yourself when you arrived. Less… aggressive.” 

“Aggressive?” You ask, a note of panic seeping in. Have you hurt her before? 

“You’ve never done anything physical, though a fair bit of snarling anytime I came near you. You were far more annoying than dangerous.” 

Swirling the liquid in her glass, she takes a slow sip. Her eyes watch over the rim as you relax. Many times the two of you have discussed your fears, especially those related to hurting others. Causing any pain to people around you would blemish your caring spirit. 

“I had more awareness when I arrived. You told me to come inside and I could, I didn’t have to fight with… it to do what I wanted.” You admit. 

“You have to stop referring to your other half as an ‘it.’” Zelda sighs, exhausted with the effort of repeating herself, “Every time you’ve ventured closer to acceptance, you’ve gained more control. You can’t fight for the rest of your life.” “Says who?” You snap. 

It’s pure, unfiltered anger that you direct her way. She hesitates, filling you with guilt, before moving forward without acknowledgement. 

“It isn’t healthy. You know this, you’re just too stubborn to admit it.” 

“Because this thing, this curse? It isn’t me. It will never be me. How can it be, when I can’t even control it?” 

The look in Zelda’s eyes leaves you uneasy. Worse than pity or sadness, it’s an understanding. She knows what it's like to lose control and it terrifies you. You’re keenly reminded of her own experience, your stomach turning unpleasantly. 

“Whether you like it or not, lycanthropy is a permanent affliction. You lose nothing from trying to accept it.” 

“I lose myself!” Tears pull at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall with each breath. How many times will you have this conversation before she understands? 

Zelda looks into your eyes. Her mouth is open, lips poised to speak, when she pauses. A nerve has clearly been struck. It's only natural, but there will never be a conversation on this topic that didn’t strike a nerve. The open wound in your heart will know no peace. 

“In order to become what it is, it needs you, Y/N. Mind and body. It is fueled by magic, but lives only with your essence. Losing yourself is impossible.” Zelda stands, crossing the room. She stops before you, forcing your eyes to meet her own, “The being you believe is in your head? It has to bend to your will. All you need to do is accept its presence and it will fall in line.” 

You let some of the tears fall, emotion tightening in your chest. A hand wipes away the tears, delicate eyes following the trails of them. Can it really be so simple? 

Months; you’ve fought this feeling for months. So many words have left Zelda’s lips in that time. Reassurances, urges—all to accept the situation as it was. The things she said bounced off of your mind, never taking purchase, until now.

Relief should flood through your veins. The tears in your eyes should be happy, joyous. Instead, grief drags your heart from the joy it craves. You’ve prolonged this pain for months, when it could’ve changed in days, all because of your fear. 

You have no idea if Zelda will understand, but you don’t need to know. Not when she pulls you against her. Tears soak her blouse, she says nothing. Your hands clutch onto any part of her available. 

“I’m… scared.” Wincing against the grit in your voice, you try to pull away. Zelda doesn’t let you. 

“I know,” Zelda says, rubbing a hand over your back, “but one day you won’t be.” 

You hated to admit she’s right, and over time, she is. Instead of shutting the animalistic thoughts and urges out, you redirect them; picking up something to do or eating to keep your jaws busy. The fear is still ever present. As small as it is, it holds you back. 

Zelda takes on exercises to attune you to your own senses and now you stand in a large field, eyes closed as she instructs you. 

“What do you smell?” She calls from across the space. 

“I don’t know. Flowers?” 

The sigh she releases makes you grin. Then comes a click, metal on metal; Zelda’s lighter. You hear the sound dozens of times per day, enough for its absence to worry you. 

“Attune your senses to my cigarette. Expand your breadth, take it in.” 

Hands clench at your sides, you make the effort to open yourself to the surroundings. It's like unplugging your nose after swimming in a pool. For a moment, scents meld together. The mixture is like a stain on your sense of smell. Then they begin to separate, splitting like a cell. 

Petrichor clings to every blade of grass and leaf, enhancing the pungence of the sweet florals. Some are fresh, strong, their blooms new to the world. Others brown at the edges and give off musky nodes. Standing out among the natural scents is the familiar burning of Zelda’s cigarette. The tobacco is new, though the paper is damp. 

All of it is so defined now, clear and original. It was overwhelming before you latched onto Zelda. Now, in your mind’s eye, you can confirm her position based on the tobacco. It struggles to blot out the fresh blossoms on your left. If you hadn’t heard her voice come from that way before, you would locate her now. 

The more you think, the more you know it isn’t her cigarette that gives her away. Plenty of witches at the academy smoke. None of them wear the same scent, bear that same unintentional fragrance of soil like she does. It is her. As if it was written into her very DNA, you know this to be true. 

“Tell me what you know.” Zelda says. 

“They’re new, but you went out to smoke this morning. The paper was already damp before coming out here.” 

“What brand?” 

“Heavens Zelda, seriously? That’s impossible!” 

“Focus. Don’t make excuses.” She hardens her tone, sending a chill down your spine. 

You try to focus, but you can’t get a hint from the tobacco itself. Sometimes the box can give a hint of where it’s been. Nothing. You have little knowledge about cigarettes and can’t pinpoint anything. 

“I don’t know.” Your shoulders sag and you open your eyes. 

The red and white box catches your eye, you grit your teeth. It’d been so simple. Marlboro reds are popular, but that was the reason you didn’t name them. Zelda isn’t someone who ordinarily goes with the popular choice. 

“Do you normally smoke those?” 

“If I want an easy option, yes.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” A laugh escapes you, walking closer to her.

“I roll my own cigarettes, darling, that is what it means.” Zelda says. 

You raise an eyebrow at that. Everyday you learn something new about her, something obscure. She is a woman of refined taste and knowledge. The idea that she rolls her own cigarettes shouldn’t surprise you. 

Though that begs the question; if she rolls them, does she grow her own tobacco? The mortuary does reek of it, but you’d put that down to Zelda’s constant consumption. That would explain the ever present scents of less… legal plants coming from the attic as well. You guess that was just Ambrose’s doing. 

“Alright, Coach, what next?” Crossing the field to stand at her side, you offer her a grin. A small smile pulls fondly at her mouth. 

“I’m afraid I’m cutting it short today. I have far too many papers to grade this evening.” She sighs. 

Zelda pinches the bridge of her nose with two fingers, cigarette nearly burnt through in her other hand. You take it and stub it out on the bottom of your shoe. The entire moment, your eyes never leave her. The tense set of her shoulders, barely shaking hand, and creases on her forehead create a worrying picture. 

“Zelda, when was the last time you slept?” You ask. 

“Last night.” 

Her answer is quick, too quick. When your eyes meet, you can see the exhaustion reflected back in them. You reach out to rub a worry line from her forehead. It’s an unusual desire, but she allows it, despite her surprise. She even leans into it slightly. 

“And how long did you sleep last night?” You prod. 

There is no hiding the sheepish, caught expression on her face. It mingles perfectly with her typical indignation at being managed, “...Three hours.” 

“I thought as much. Come on.” 

You give her no time to adjust before taking her by the hand, pulling her across the green space in the direction of the academy. She stumbles for a brief moment. She attempts to pull her hand from your own, but your gentle grip is firm. An over dramatic sigh comes from behind you. 

“Must you manhandle me? I’m perfectly capable of walking.” Zelda says. 

“Are you?” You throw back without thinking, “Because you’re not capable of basic self care. It makes me wonder.” 

That is another piece of your affliction you are adjusting to; your natural shyness is nowhere to be found, replaced with a quick-wit that often surprises others. Zelda inhales sharply, but says nothing. She’s becoming used to your easy quips. There is nothing for her to argue against, though, as you’re right. 

It isn’t until you’re surrounded by the walls of Zelda’s office that you release her. Then you begin rifling through her desk, making her raise an eyebrow. She crosses her arms as she watches the scene, “What in Lilith’s name are you looking for?” 

“Your answer key.” You throw back distractedly. 

She’s at your side in an instant, unlocking the top left drawer and handing over a stack of papers. You scowl while she smirks. 

“What are you doing with them?” 

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to grade your papers.” You smile. 

Zelda freezes in place. She looks as if she’s never seen you before. You wait, in awe of a truly speechless Zelda Spellman. Finally she speaks again. 

“Why?” She asks breathlessly. 

“You need papers graded and you need a nap. You can’t do both, so I can take care of one for you.” 

Her flinty, suspicious eyes soften into warm pools. Indecision keeps her from speaking. You say nothing, not wanting to interrupt the thoughts running through her mind. Is your offer really so shocking? It feels like a trifle compared to all she’s done for you. 

“I can’t let you do that, Y/N.” Zelda tries, but her voice lacks conviction. 

“You can. Now, lay on the couch, I’ll go grab a blanket from my classroom!” 

You rush from the room before she can mount an argument. Left behind in the office, Zelda sits down heavily on the leather couch. She stares at the doorway in disbelief. A tumultuous swirl of emotions pulses through her chest, a mixture of pain and longing. Somewhere relief worms in. 

When is the last time someone went out of their way for her? Someone who isn’t her family, that was. She can’t recall. The number of friends she has can be counted on a single hand—a single finger, even, as she counts only you. Her heart aches. 

You rush back into the room, a large green blanket piled in your arms. Behind the mountain of fabric, she catches the smile you aim at her. Her heart ceases in its ache, instead overwhelmed with warmth. 

“I had to dig through my chest, but I remembered you liked this one last time,” You comment, missing the shaky smile on her lips, “Now lay down and don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got it all under control.” 

For once, Zelda has nothing to say. She lays her head on the arm of the couch, letting you drape the blanket over her. Her eyes follow you to her desk where you sit. Then they slip closed briefly. 

When they open again, she tries not to move. She’s content to watch you; the way you fiddle with the pen in your hand, eyes darting back and forth over the papers on the desk. You bite your lip in concentration and a fond smile breaks out on her features. 

Over the weeks of work, you’ve become sure of yourself. More than ever before. And in that, you begin to take extra steps for her. Though she’s coming to realize they’ve always been there. Your care isn’t new, just more obvious under her constant attention. Like your affections, she’s also failed to acknowledge her own. 

“Damn.” She hears you mutter, tapping the pen to the wood rapidly. Then you meet her eyes. 

A brief expression of surprise flits over your face, before you smile. Zelda lets her own smile remain. What was it she said to you—that accepting your situation would make you happier, offer more control? Perhaps accepting this feeling in her chest will do the same for her. 

“Has something stumped you?” 

“Maybe,” You say, smile never wavering, “Did you enjoy your rest?” 

“I did. It seems you need some now.” 

“I’m okay, Zelda-” 

“You can’t enforce self care on me and then refuse it yourself. It’s remarkably hypocritical.” Zelda says, raising a challenging eyebrow, “Come here.” 

Knowing you’ve been caught, you stand and cross the room. You plop unceremoniously down next to her. The action draws a chuckle from her lips, husky with sleep. 

Zelda offers a portion of the blanket to you. Rather than trade spots with you, she remains seated, waiting for your decision. It takes no time for you to take the offered warmth. In the silence of the room, you snuggle into her side. She leans back into you. 

It takes only moments before you drift into sleep. She traces a finger over your cheek, sleep pulling at her once more. Before joining you in unconsciousness, Zelda presses a sweet kiss to the crown of your head. You are safe—loved. And so is she. 

#zelda spellman #zelda spellman x reader #caos #caos x reader #chilling adventures of sabrina #zelda spellman imagine #chilling adventures of sabrina x reader #caos imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #oct2022 #multimilfswritings

[auntiezelda]

(from so long ago) @magaprima

        Zelda was ready to take offense at Lilith’s surprised tone before she began to think on Hell’s new monarch’s possible reasoning for not believing her. She had read every scrap of every book or scripture she could find over the centuries that spoke of Lilith. With all of said knowledge she wondered what, if anything, would Lilith know or understand of family and their multitude of dynamics.

       “Yes, I would and will if I must.” And then she thought for a moment longer. No, it came as a surprise because it would be one even for her own family. She knew, deep down, that they wouldn’t do the same for her. Ambrose would be too hesitant and frightened. Sabrina would volunteer herself but then be trying to find some loophole. And Hilda... Zelda had witnessed her sister realizing she was under the caligari spell and then she had left her there, a problem to solve another day.

       “You know, I never thought I’d have the Queen of Hell bolstering my spirits, yet here we are.”

#magaprima #getting hope from the lilith? you go zelds!

[charmfamily]

(SEMI) CHARMED KIND OF LIFE: EPISODE 3, PART XXX. “GENESIS IN BLACK”

Transcript Below.

MORGYN: There was no need for you to intervene and even less of a need for you to knock them both out, Caligari– I had it. 

CLIONA: You’re ever so petulant when you don’t get to do everything your way. [She smirks at him, lightly and teasingly pinching his cheek before kneeling down and turning her attention back to their unconscious quarry.] Which would be halfway bearable if your way didn’t take so damn long; not all of us enjoy being out amongst the civilians, Ember, nor do we find pointless dueling with the skill-impaired to be even remotely entertaining. It’s a simple Memoria Quaerere that should have taken two minutes. 

MORGYN: You would think then, if your primary concerns were efficiency and time management, that you’d be searching the minds of the actual busy-bodies in the sewer tunnels instead of their look-outs.

CLIONA: The “look-outs” aren’t covered by legalities, which you would know if you’d bothered to ask: Pries’ mother, like all Casters of Mischief, has an iron-fisted mastery of loopholes and is no slouch when it comes to looking after her own; Erwin and Sigworth are protected under Independent Investigator licenses filed on their behalf, they have … something of a right to go digging, as long as they don’t get in our way and they turn over anything they might have found once it’s been photographed for their records. Why do you think they weren’t apprehended before they got down there? … Are you going to interject at some point, Sabine dearest, or are you just going to stand there until The Aether freezes over while you wait for us to stop talking?  SABINE: Sorry... I just wanted to let you guys know I found residuals from the casting of a Quaeromancy spell and it seemed kind of relevant…? To the discussion you were having?... Do you think there’s anything to find?

CLIONA: [She shrugs at the question, dusting herself off before rising to her feet.] We’ll see, won’t we, darling? Word around the Hall is that Pries does have an almost uncanny attention to detail, so if anything was left down there, undoubtedly, he’ll retrieve it.

#Sims 4 Story #The Sims 4 #TS4 Edit #TS4 Story #Story Simblr #Sims 4 Spellcasters #(Semi) Charmed Kind of Life #SCKoL #Morgyn Ember #Tomax Collette #Cliona Caligari #Sabine Redwood #End of Episode 3 #You know the drill; goodies to come while I script out Episode 4 #Also this is a Sabine Protection Blog I love her and she is my sweet baby #Look at how cute she is I cry #This is also a Cliona Caligari Apologist Blog #Is she mean af and kind of a snob yeah but she didn't do anything wrong

[spettelt]

Choose Your Character

(A small tribute to the many role-playing classes like in dungeons and dragons and a certain horror game that youtube has allowed me to watch and I dig the art style. The game 'Fear and Hunger' has a beautiful art style which I have tried to replicate. Along with my love of Warhammer 40k, I have tried to draw up four classes to look like the old rogue trader art of warhammer 40k. If any warhammer fan likes this and wants to use at as potential role play or D&D stuff, then you are free to use them)

1. SPACE MARINE (BARBARIAN) Gender: Male Classification: Adeptus Astartes  Specialize Equipment: Efficient with both ranged and Melee weapons; Bolter, heavy Bolter, Bolt Gun and Chainsword and Power Armor (High defence) Know No Fear: Being a genetically enhanced warrior, you have seen many horros and are more reisitant to things that would rot the mind.

You are one of the Emperor's angels of death, you fight for honour and glory. You are of the Storm-Watchers Chapter, created in secret by the Inquisition in the Caligari Secter as warriors that fight in the shadows. No one in the imperium, not even other Space Marine Chapters knows of your existence and you wish to keep it that way. Though you can fight all on your own, you do crave some comrade-ship. Even if its from the likes of mortal servants of the Imperium. You have been assigned a mission by the Inquisition of the Caligari Sector, to land on the world of Argamar and route out whatever corruption or xenos taint that may be within the Hive city of Colsectus....or the planet itself.

With a small retenue of the Astra Militarum, you land in the space port of one hive city and make your way down, only that madness seems to have claimed most of the population, and already your team has been wiped out. You easily fight your way past the heretics and traitors only to find yourself alone. Will you continue on alone or will you encounter others who will assist in your mission?

2. ASTROPATH (SPELLCASTER) Gender: Male/Female Classification: Adeptus Astra Telepathica Specialized Equipment: Cannot wear any armour, but can wield items and gear to enhance your psychic abilities (Focusing staff, Lecto Divinitatus Book and Purity Seals) Spells: Telepathy, Lightning, Telekenisis Psyker: Though blind, your third eye allows you to see the disturbances and the taint of the warp. You can detect any anomilies before they strike.

You are a Astropath, a specially-trained psychic servant of the Imperium that guides the ships through the sea of souls (the warp). From your third eye, you can see the light of the astronomicum, the phsycic manifestation of the Empeor that lights the way through the darkness of space. It is your responsibility to carry out communication with your supernatural gifts. Your mind is mightier than the sword but it comes at a cost. For your powers can draw the attention of the corrupting influence of Chaos. If not trained properly, you are a vessel for daemons to pour out from the warp into our reality.

You are a delicate soul, and your mind is bombarded with visions of madness that you must control or you will be found wanting. Though gentle as your personality is, you cannot help but jump at every shadow and at every strange noise.

Misfortune struck you, as you awake to find out that you are the sole survivor from a terrible attack on your vessel. All the crew are dead except for you. With no memory of what happened, the Inquisition suspects you of corruption and treason. To atone for this, you are sent to the World of Argamar, where the Hive city of Colsectus has gone dark. You are to find the Astropathic Choir and re-establish communication with the Inquisition.

3. UNDERHIVE GANSTER (ROGUE) Gender: Female Classification: Gang Leader of the lower levels of Hive City Colsectus (Formerly) Specialize Equipment: All forms of pistols and one handed weapons. Can replace power claw with other cybernetic weaponry. Swift Striker: Has the highest amount of Agility and can strike twice at the start of each combat phase

Originaly born on the world of Argamar to a rich and wealthy noble family house, you grew bored of your life and want to live life dangerously. So you broke ties with your family, left it all behind to join one of the numerous underhive gangs of the city. Through your crafty talents and agility, you worked your way up the ranks and became the leader of one of the gangs, gainign a fierce reputation, at the cost of your eye and arm. Fortune and excitment, you had it all until one day.

The Hive City gangs, criminals and civil population started to act strange and all of a sudden, turned violent. The gangs turned on one another, including your own. You have no idea what is going on, and was forced to slay and butcher your way to safety and sanity back on the higher levels of the hive. You are all that is left of your gang, with nothing else left to loose, you stumble upon those that wish to cleance the city of taint and you migth as well join them. But not before you secure the wealth and title of your noble house family name, and take back of what you had lost.

This sudden outburst of madness and chaos is new to you. And though you have nerves of steel, you canot help but hear and see things in the walls...

4. TECH PRIEST (SUPPORT) Gender: Unknown Classiffication: Adeptus Mechanicus Specialize Equipment: Servo arm, mechanical claw, laspistol arm, built in scanner, optics and fibre nerves. Praise the Omnisiah: You are part machine and can easily access locked doors and several mechanical functions such as cogitators. You can also repair gear as well as weapons. Cybernetics: You have a higher defence than those organic flesh creatures. You can even replace lost limps.

Tech-Priests of the Cult Mechanicus are the forfront of all technology within the Imperium of Man. You are one of teh Adepts of the cult of Mars. You worship the machine god and have gone through all the rights and blessings of swwitching most of your fragile organic body, for cold machinery. Any and all forms of technology peaks your interest to such a degree, that even new tech, which can be considered heretical, peaks your interest. 

You have heard that there may be ancient machinery from the Dark Age of Technology, hidden away or buried in the Hive City of Colsectus on the planet of Argamar. You make your way to the city, only to find that the civilain population have gone mad. The Guard does not cooperate, and the servitors are not responding to your signals. Despite the strange occurings, you will make your way and join a group of what appear to be the only group that is sane and capable of fighting their way for you. 

You goal is selfish as it shoud be. You care not for the emotional trauma of your human collegues, nor do you care of the Astartes objective. But you can assit in repairing their equipment, as you will rely on the party to breach the lower depths of the hive city, and discover what untold secrets that may be lurking far down in the darkness. 

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #roleplay #character art #space marine #astropath #tech priest #rogue trader #digital art #digital drawing #science fiction #roleplay character #underhive gang #character sheet #concept art

[sixty-silver-wishes]

actually. watching the black rider opera made me realize why I didn't like the two caligari musicals I've seen. they're too literal! the black rider has a simple plot and characters, but the avant garde and expressionist performances allow the audience to interpret how the characters are feeling through exaggerated movements, poetic lyrics, at times disturbing music, a bit of absurdism, and moments where you're like, "wait, what am I watching again?" there's emotional whiplash, there's ambiguity, there's dark humor, there's an eclectic mix of music and dance genres. "caligari" as a film and as a story would lend itself very well to this kind of theatre (hell, the influences from it in "the black rider" are very obvious), but the two musical theatre interpretations I've seen aim to be very literal and concrete. there's no ambiguity, no liminality or absurdism. everything is spelled out and structured into these very conventional narratives that don't leave any room for the audience to speculate and reflect. the black rider is an adaptation of carl maria von weber's opera "der freischuetz," but it's also a story about addiction and whatever else the audience may draw from it. "caligari," similarly, is about authority, trauma, whatever- but that room to speculate is what makes it so intriguing. the ballet adaptation probably comes the closest to what I would want to see from one, but can you imagine if a musical theatre or opera adaptation allowed itself to be less restrictive and by-the-book, and leaned more into focusing on the emotions and themes that are difficult to describe, but expressed best through performance? "caligari" shouldn't be made to make sense; the audience is tasked with making sense of it for themselves. there's so much potential there that I feel just isn't being tapped into enough, because it's not the story or the characters that make it so interesting. it's the way the story and characters are vessels for something much, much larger than an early horror movie.

#rambles #sorry I have a Lot of thoughts

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume Nine, Number Nine

Body/Head

The days are getting shorter, so why not a few more short reviews from Dusted writers?  This month we cover a pretty wide swath of possible musics, from tech death to ambient electronics to improvised guitar duets.  Contributors included Jonathan Shaw, Tim Clarke, Bryon Hayes, Ray Garraty, Jennifer Kelly, Andrew Forell, Bill Meyer and Ian Mathers. 

Acausal Intrusion — Panspsychism (I, Voidhanger)

Acausal Intrusion continues its journey from the extremes of utterly demented tech death (see the band’s first LP, Nulitas) to this most recent version of the band’s sound. To be sure, Panpsychism still disturbs and confounds, but you can track the progression of song forms through most of the record’s eight tracks, and when the needle lifts at the close of “The Beauty Within,” you will likely be able to locate your extremities in physical space. Your mind? That depends. You can get pretty lost in the twists and inversions in the middle section of “This Inward Separation,” and “Molecular Entanglement” works pretty hard to deliver on its title’s premise (hold on tight through the tune’s second half…). Still, these new songs are much more interested in creating interesting riffs and repeating them than in turning the structures of temporality inside out. It may be telling that the longest track on Panpsychism is called “Pillar of Rationality.” Is Acausal Intrusion becoming invested in cause-and-effect relations? Only time will tell — assuming you can figure out which way time is running after giving this record a spin.

Jonathan Shaw

Arrowounds — The Slow Boiling Amphibian Dreamstate (Lost Tribe Sound)

The Slow Boiling Amphibian Dreamstate by ARROWOUNDS

Back in March, Arrowounds’ In the Octopus Pond cast a spell that’s been hard to shake. In my Dusted review I wrote, “Though there are plenty of precedents for what Chamberlain is doing here, there’s a cohesive vision to this record that proves intoxicating.” This follow-up, the aptly titled The Slow Boiling Amphibian Dreamstate, also has a cohesive vision, but one that’s much darker and more abstract than its predecessor. Aside from a distant muted rhythm on opener, “All Life Dissolved in the Deep,” this is a largely beatless album, with ambient textures brought to the fore. For the majority of these 45 minutes, very little happens at all, aside from the looming of unsettling reverberations, throbbing bass tones and modulated sounds that could be the buzzing of flies. There’s the feeling that something ritualistic is unfolding in the shadows, something that may prove to unleash malignant forces. It’s certainly an evocative listen, but one that requires patience and the casting aside of any preconceived expectations. This one’s all about the atmosphere.

Tim Clarke

Blood Oath — Lost in an Eternal Silence (Caligari Records)

Eternal silence? Not likely when these Chilean freaks are around. Blood Oath plays a proggy variety of death metal, long on musical technique and a lot spacier than not. But those ambitions and atmospherics never get in the way of satisfying tunefulness, and when guitarists Ignacio Canales and Iganacio Riveras (yep, two Iganacios) indulge their desires to shred, there’s plenty of thrashy antics and dive-bombing abandon to enjoy. This reviewer really digs “Reflections of Darkness,” which is shot through with a groovy weirdness; the soloing verges on hair-metal heroics here and there, but in this context, that turns out to be a lot of fun. Lost in Eternal Silence is more smoked out than grossed out, and some of us like our death metal a bit soggier and smellier. But there’s no denying the musical invention on display here, and the speed and dexterity nears intoxicating levels.

Jonathan Shaw

Body/Head — Come On (Longform Editions Remix) (Longform Editions)

Come On (Longform Editions remix) by Body/Head

Kim Gordon and Bill Nace have been exploring the mind-body divide for over a decade, yet they still manage to surprise and delight. The duo sprung the Come On EP on us earlier this year, without notice. Replete with short, song-like impressions, the brief recording was a subtle evolution in the Body/Head oeuvre. They astonish once more with this extended remix of the EP’s leading track, stretching it into a 20-minute ambient opus. Only faint echoes of the piece’s guitar noise remain, as Nace dons his dub producer’s cap to create a smoke-filled atmosphere. Gordon’s sultry voice beckons, yet through time dilation seems to call from the edge of the universe. She and Nace are joined by music video director and Peaches collaborator Vice Cooler, whose slippery synth squiggles add a gritty snarl to the otherwise soothing vapor trails. This is a potent brew, a beguiling chanson rooted firmly in the ever-expanding Body/Head universe.

Bryon Hayes

DJ Muggs — Soul Assassins 3: Death Valley (Soul Assassins Records)

The third part of the DJ Muggs’ trilogy has got an impressive list of guests. How can one even get a verse from Ice Cube and MC Ren these days? But despite the shocking number of rap stars (many of them fell off, to be honest), hardly anything on Soul Assassins 3: Death Valley feels like a real song. These are projects, with phoned-in verses, and Muggs was just doing construction work, putting these verses together. Only three solo tracks with Boldy James (“It’s On,” “Where We At, and “We Coming For the Safe”) sound like he was really working for it. After half a dozen of listens not a single song sticks in mind. You just keep listing these big names in your head.

Ray Garraty

Duffy X Uhlmann — Doubles (Orindal)

Doubles by Duffy x Uhlmann

Meg Duffy is a heck of a guitar player, witness their support work for Kevin Morby, their own Hand Habits and this year’s yes/and all-instrumental collaboration with Oneohtrix Point Never producer Joel Ford. Now the artist teams up with Gregory Ulhmann, likely encountered on a recent Hand Habits/Perfume Genius tour in 2022 for an album of improvised guitar duets, laid down in one single takes, look ma, no net. These cuts are lovely and varied. “Half Smile” is precise but lyrical. One guitar sets up a clock-like rhythmic foundation, while another splays lingering chords and pensive runs of melody atop this architectural structure. “Etch” is more luxuriant, with high tremulous melody stepping nimbly over scratchy strums and flowering in harp-like profusion. “Which One Is You” has a pulsing, electronic mystery, guitar notes scattered over an eerie Burial-ish atmosphere (or possibly some of that Oneohtrix Point Never influence rubbed off). “Braid” is cerebral and austere, the notes clipped short, so that guitar sounds like a malleted percussion instrument. The two parts interlock like delicately tuned machinery, the one fitting where the other stops, and both dancing in airy, contemplative joy.

Jennifer Kelly

Alabaster DePlume — Come with Fierce Grace (Intl Anthem)

Come With Fierce Grace by Alabaster DePlume

Alabaster DePlume recorded material for these 12 tracks at the same time as he was making GOLD, working with20 other musicians in various configurations and laying far more sound to tape than he could use, even for a double album. And yet while this music is, strictly speaking, leftovers, it is, in some ways, far more visceral and affecting than its sprawling predecessor. The sounds are rougher, warmer and less baroquely poised. There are African rhythms and tones in many of these cuts, in this rumbling, rattling foundations of percussive “To that Voice and Say,” in the desert flutter of spare haunting “Give Me Away.” DePlume, himself, sings less and plays more, entering into swaggering, blistered dialogue with a drummer, in “What Can It Take,” overblowing long, trembling vibrations on abstract “Fall on Flowers.” Where he does foreground singing, it’s likely to be someone else, like the Guinean artist Falle Nioke in “Sibomandi,” carving rough shadow-y blues arcs across complicated volleys of percussion and sax. Or London-based Momoko Gill, who breathes silky smooth R&B lines into a thicket of plucked bass notes, sounding very much like Sade but without the sheen of slick production. I was lukewarm on GOLD, but I like this one a lot. Let’s hear it for leftovers.

Jennifer Kelly

Erik Enocksson — Räkna evighet som intet (Irrlicht/Ideal)

Räkna evighet som intet by Erik Enocksson

Swedish composer Erik Enocksson explores grief and transcendence in two longform pieces on his new release which translates as “Count eternity as nothing.” Written for a string quartet, voices overlaid and electronic effects, with a libretto taken from the poetry of Lotta Lotass, Enocksson invokes the confusion and despair essential to the mourning process and the redemptive power of prayer, poetry and music. The work plays out like a non-linear operetta, shifting between emotional states and intensity.

Part 1 begins with a babble of voices, an invocation. Inchoate strings and electronics gradually coalesce into form, a wordless male voice, cantor-like, answered by a choral libretto based on the poetry of Lotta Lotass. In Part 2 swirls of feedback, like nails on a blackboard, the bottom end of the strings distorted, again searching for meaningful form. The choir liturgical, before Sara Fors’ vulnerable soprano comes to the fore, barely there in lonely prayer, before a lengthy fade into eternal silence. Räkna evighet som intet is a hauntingly evocative work which doesn’t shy from darkness but ends in purifying light.

Andrew Forell

Devin Gray — Most Definitely  (Rataplan)

Most Definitely by Rataplan Records

One truth of performance is that the performer spends the whole of their life preparing for something that another person might only see during one brief and circumscribed moment. Devin Gray, a drummer who has worked with Kris Davis, Ellery Eskelin and numerous other singular jazz musicians, recreates that phenomenon on his debut solo recording, Most Definitely. If you want to get in touch with the reflection and effort that go into the self-creation of an artist, go to this album’s Bandcamp page when you have some time and read the two exhaustive texts he wrote for it. But in the spirit the actual music, this review will be brief. Gray limited himself to one six-hour session, during which he improvised from a series of prompts. With one exception, the album’s 23 tracks are quite short, and each uses a laser focus to express a particular sound, idea or transitional event. As befits a guy who is engaged with the freer end of things, but also engaged with the music’s ongoing historical development, you can hear a spectacular breadth of sounds, some of which become brief homages to his inspirations.

Bill Meyer

Anthony Naples — orbs (ANS Recordings)

orbs by Anthony Naples

Dusted last checked in with producer Anthony Naples back in 2015, when Patrick Masterson noted that his Body Pill LP made for a transition away from Naples’ dancefloor work to “a peaceful, nocturnal release built for life’s simple, quiet moments.” On the evidence of the lush, accomplished new orbs, Naples has continued to go in that direction, and it’s paying dividends. From the opening “Moto Verse” finding a middle ground between trip hop and ambient to the closing “Unknow” evoking a kinder, gentler Boards of Canada (albeit with a prominent bassline). orbs succeeds in both its sound design and its construction. These ten tracks (kept to a trim 43 minutes and change, although the pace never feels rushed) seem drawn from the same pool of nighttime calm Naples was channeling back on Body Pill, but if anything his approach has gotten more refined and potent with time.

Ian Mathers

Eddie Prévost / NO Moore /James O’Sullivan / Ross Lambert — CHORD (Shrike)

CHORD by Eddie Prévost | NO Moore | James O’Sullivan | Ross Lambert

Shrike emerged in 2021 as an outlet for London’s thriving free improvisation scene. A survey of their Bandcamp page indicates that capitalization matters, so let’s ponder for a moment the determination to render in all caps something that you’ll listen hard to find on this recording. It is a studio encounter between three electric guitarists and the esteemed percussionist, Eddie Prévost, whose involvement ensures that the music is going to enact a process of exploration, but suffice to say that no one is searching for the lost chord. No, they’re looking for ways to contribute to a dialogue of arcing tones, shimmering decays, rough-edge scraps and feedback that’ll resonate in your ribcage. By dint of being the only non-guitarist, Prévost becomes the agent of contrast and focus across seven absorbing exchanges. It appears that Shrike prioritizes visual presentation, and CHORD’s trifold sleeve is a thing of beauty. One hopes that in the future the label will extend that respect to the format itself and put it on a glass-mastered CD instead of the short-run, blue-faced disc used here.

Bill Meyer

Radian — Distorted Rooms (Thrill Jockey)

Distorted Rooms by Radian

Experimental trio Radian — Martin Brandlmayr on drums and electronics, Martin Siewert on guitars and electronics and John Norman on bass — create a splintered, deconstructed form of post-rock with industrial leanings and the low-slung funkiness of instrumental hip-hop. Their sounds are metallic and dank, often blown out with distortion and scattered across the stereo field to give the listener just enough grounding to follow their rhythms, but frequently upending expectations of where their meandering compositions may venture next. Radian’s last album, 2016’s On Dark Silent Off, is probably their finest and most cohesive to date; their new album, the fittingly titled Distorted Rooms, feels like a more fractured effort, its six tracks taking a more abstract course across 40 minutes of music. The band’s sounds are always interesting, but there are passages here where you have to wait patiently for everything to lock into place. Distorted Rooms’ finest moments are probably “Cicada,” which features some of the record’s more breakneck and addictive rhythms, and finale “S at the Gates,” which coalesces its sound sources into something ominously atmospheric.

Tim Clarke

Shackleton & Waclaw Zimpel ft  Siddhartha Belmannu — The Cell of Dreams (7K!)

The Cell of Dreams is a collaboration between producer Sam Shackleton, Polish polymath Waclaw Zimpel and singer Siddhartha Belmannu. Shackleton and Zimpel use harmonium like drones, keyboards, alto clarinet and hand percussion to develop serpentine trance-like ragas. Singing in his native language Kannada, Belmannu, a rising star in Indian classical music, moves through registers of his voice with magistral grace. The 19-minute opener “The Ocean Lies Between Us” features long cycles of drone and buzz, minimal percussion, lapping water and Belmannu modulated and serene intercut with wordless runs through the higher registers. Not understanding the words, you concentrate solely on his tone and emotion to the extent that when he sings in English on “Everything Must Decay” it takes a little readjustment of focus, but the combination of Belmannu’s voice, Zimpel’s treated alto clarinet and Shackleton’s production effects is mesmerizing.

Andrew Forell

Superposition — Glaciers (Kettle Hole Records)

Glaciers by Superposition

Superposition is Todd Carter and Michael Hartman, who also comprise two thirds of the category-noncompliant trio, TV Pow. TV Pow rarely gets together these days since its members have lives and the third member, Brent Gutzeit, left Chicago years ago. But Superposition’s existence proves that Hartman and Carter are still playing together, and still adhering to the essential TV Pow tenet that if they get in the same room and make some sounds, whether they issue from computers, conversations, made-up instruments or a nice grand piano, those sounds might end up on a record. The ten tracks on Glaciers are made by stacking layers of spare keyboard lines and muffled drum tracks, and periodically interrupting their trundling passage in ways that suggest that something has gone somewhere, then stopped and done something else. If that description seems non-specific, so is the music; while just enough of the track titles relate to glaciers to make you look for a concept album in this stuff, it could just as be set to driving instruction films or the progress of Mario from one side of your video screen to the other. This is a feature, not a bug. Put this on and do something. 

Bill Meyer

Thrash Palace — Go (Sub Pop)

Part of the Sub Pop Singles series, Thrash Palace’s “Go” rips as hard as it’ll go, a bludgeoning assault of guitar noise, thwacked to bits by hard, block-simple drums. You might recognize the singer’s florid, blues-nodding belt or her guttural grunt: that’s EMA doing her best rock goddess. The rest of the band is likewise impressive. Sarah Register of Talk Normal and Kim Gordon’s band plays guitar and XBXRX’s Vice Cooler plays hits those brutalist drums. The flipside “Teenage Spaceship” is quieter but also full of drama. Here EMA’s voice tamps down to a whisper, and the atmosphere envelopes rather than blowing the house down. Both are quite good, intense, theatrical and inventive in a way that evokes Savages and, naturally, Kim Gordon. Thrash on, ladies. We need a full-length.

Jennifer Kelly

Vengeance — Sewer Surge (Dying Victims Productions)

Nasty, grimy and dank, Sewer Surge is the first proper LP from Vengeance — or, as they seem to prefer, Fukkin Vengeance. That additional term in the band’s name is close to risible, but it helps to distinguish this speed metal act from at least two other Polish metal bands that call themselves Vengeance, in addition to the dozen or so other outfits claiming the moniker (from Brazil, Germany, the States and elsewhere). Polish? Yep, but you’d be forgiven for assuming that an obscure NWOBHM band recorded Sewer Surge sometime in 1983. This is metal for a bar fight, for a biker run, for a night of whites and pints of Ballantine Ale in Sheffield (or in Warsaw, one supposes). The band seems to be clued into the layers of allusion and potential ironical goofiness that come with this sort of earnest love letter to those halcyon days of leather, spikes and Flying Vs: the best tune on the record is called “Disappointing Parking Lot Sex.” That’s really funny, and the song is pretty great. Just don’t expect Fukkin Vengeance to get out of the gutter (or sewer) any time soon.

Jonathan Shaw

Dustin Wong — Perpetual Morphosis (Hausu Mountain)

Perpetual Morphosis by Dustin Wong

Dustin Wong creates outlandish and beautiful sound worlds that are inspired by his limitless creativity. Originally a denizen of the weird and wonderful Baltimore music scene – he was a member of both Ecstatic Sunshine and Ponytail – the guitarist has since created a solo career around his mastery of loop pedals. Not keen to sit still, Wong continues to extend his performative toolbox. Perpetual Morphosis, his sophomore Hausu Mountain joint, finds Wong fusing instrumentation and digitally sourced sounds. The resulting compositions reside somewhere between the intricate patterns of American minimalism and the post-modern zaniness emanating from the Orange Milk catalog. Fractalized percussive patterns bounce around, obfuscated by neon-colored tone clouds and the gently wafting breeze of Wong’s treated vocalizing. His guitar interjects repeatedly as we traverse this technicolor dream world, zooming in and out of focus as the composer straddles the fragile boundary between inspiration and outright madness. Perpetual Morphosis pokes at Wong’s charged up cerebellum, proffering a pleasant jolt in the process.

Bryon Hayes

75 Dollar Bill — Power Failures (Karl Records)

Power Failures by 75 DOLLAR BILL

75 Dollar Bill was that last band I saw before the pandemic closed everything down. They played a riveting set in a refurbished industrial space on the campus of Amherst College about a week into 2020, and, as a famous playwright put it, the rest is silence, at least for a couple of years. Power Failures comes from that period, as the two principals put together live and unreleased recordings as a way to stay relevant during the lockdown. It came out digitally in 2020 and is just now getting the vinyl treatment. The disc captures 75 Dollar Bill’s hallucinatory desert blues drone, its long haunted notes, punctuated by an ecstatic, primal drumming. Sounds of audiences, of birds, of children filter in through these shape shifting meditations, incorporating the real world like certain just-before-the-alarm dreams bring ambient noises into their narratives. “Snow Jumper’s Harp” shimmers and smolders, the steady friction of shaken percussion intersecting with an elemental blues riff repeated till it transcends itself. “15 (YASI)” sputters with electric distortion, knocks insistently on wood. A flute comes in, dreaming its own dreams. It is very serene, but also full of fire. The long set recorded at the Noguchi Gardens in Queens allows the sounds of nature to drift past, as Che Chen searches for the essence of single notes, letting them hang, repeating them, letting them die out, stopping time, in a good way, not the way the pandemic did.

Jennifer Kelly

#dusted magazine #dust #acausal intrusion #jonathan shaw #arrowounds #tim clarke #blood oath #body head #bryon hayes #dj muggs #ray garraty #meg duffy #gregory uhlmann #jennifer kelly #alabaster deplume #eric enocksson #andrew forell #devon gray #bill meyer #anthony naples #ian mathers #eddie prevost #radian #shackleton #super position #thrash palace #vengeance #dustin wong #75 dollar bill #Youtube

[arcanescholxr]

Added Muse: Elias Blackburn

Name: Elias Blackburn

Age: 47

Gender: Cis Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Species: Witch

Abilities: General magic, specializes in fire magic. Expert in thievery.

Family: Dwight Blackburn (Son), Everett Blackburn (Twin Brother), Adrien Blackburn (Father), Amara Blackburn (Mother), Casimir Blackburn (Great Grandfather),

Bio:

Elias Blackburn was born to the prestigious and powerful Blackburn Family. Elias was born a few minutes after his twin, Everett and had to stay in the hospital longer. His father, Adrien Blackburn, held the belief that twins were bad luck and Elias coming second after Everett and his extra stay in the hospital lead his father to dismiss him as a child.

His brother, Everett, on the other hand was showered with praises and his father believed that this son would show great promise. And that he did, everything Everett did, Elias was late to doing it. When Everett was walking, Elias was still crawling. When Everett could form sentences, Elias babbled and could only form small sentences.

This left Elias being neglected by his father and the staff they hired. Elias would cry for attention, and soon realized that no one would pay attention to him. This would soon spiral Elias down to becoming a trouble maker.

Despite their differences, Elias and Everett grew up close as brothers and were each other’s best friends. At least when they were children. Around the age of 12, Everett started to use magic, much faster than expected of witches. Everett was claimed to be a prodigy for his fast advancement and Elias felt left in the dust. That didn’t stop Elias from going at his own pace.

Everett was attending more classes and didn’t have time for Elias anymore. Elias made new friends on his own, but stayed away from the other important families that mingled regularly with his family. Elias became close friends in the third grade with a boy named Ambrose Caligari and became inseparable.

Elias became a troublemaker in his years at school, constantly causing mischief and pulling elaborate pranks against professors and fellow students. Elias also started to have a knack for stealing, at first, it was a survival tactic as he was often forgotten in his own home, and stole food to eat. The stealing started small until Elias realized he was good at it, then it evolved to stealing more things.

Around this time, Everett began treating Elias differently, becoming more and more distant until he started to treat Elias like his father did.

Elias continued to grow up as a menace.

Elias and Ambrose start dating the time before their college entrance exam.

Before their college entrance exam, Elias and Everett were approached by their father with a demand. Adrien wanted to have an single heir son, so he decided the twins would have a duel to the death to see who would inherit Adrien’s position as councilman to the King.

Elias talked to Everett about running away, begging his brother that he didn’t want to fight him, as he loved Everett dearly. The pleas fell on death ears as Everett was determined to follow his father’s expectations.

The day of the duel, Elias formed a plan. During the duel, the twins were evenly matched, managing to deflect each other’s spells, while Elias managed to land a blow to Everett, scarring his upper cheek. At this moment, Everett used all his abilities to kill his brother. Elias, quickly teleported when the magic created a blast, leaving behind bone dust to leave the impression that Everett had obliterated him. Everyone believed Elias had died.

Elias ran away and for a while, laid low with a friend who knew of his plan. For a small night, Elias escaped to the human realm to see different sites, where he met a woman named Helen Rose and slept with her. It was a one night stand so Elias left without a single thought.

Eventually, Elias returned to thievery to make money to live. At this point, Elias started to truly hone his skills as thief, stealing expensive amulets and trinkets. Elias quickly made a name of himself and the truth of his survival made it back to his family. Adrien and Everett personally pushed for Elias’s capture which only made Elias more incline to keep up the criminal background, believing he found his calling.

Years passed and Elias has made a name for himself as the most wanted witch. Elias lived the bachelor life, stealing and swinging, not a care in the world. Elias dated people and it always ended horribly. The witch made pacts with other criminals which always ended with Elias betraying them. A mindset of “sting first before they do.” Then he got a ransom note from a Spider Lady who he worked with and betrayed, claiming that she had captured his son.

Elias was certain that she captured some poor sap but still arrived to take her out and save the boy, who turned out to be Dwight. After a brief conversation, Elias realized that Dwight might actually be his son. Before he could leave that very second, his wolf familiar stopped him. Begrudgingly, Elias took Dwight to the nearby city of Walden where he had a hideout in an abandoned store.

After some convincing, Elias agreed to try to teach Dwight magic and allow him the hideout space. After realizing Dwight’s magic was far to great to control, Elias takes him to the Magical Realm and to the Freymoor College, where Ambrose is now Headmaster. Elias, posing as Everett, enrolls Dwight into the college. (Ambrose knows it’s Elias) and thinks of ditching Dwight then and there as he has a way of learning magic.

But there’s something about Dwight that keeps Elias returning. This criminal witch finds himself slowly, very slowly, melting for the young witch. The guilt also eats at him for not knowing he even had a son, so Elias tries his best to keep himself inserted in Dwight’s life. But Elias isn’t going to let go of his criminal life just yet.

Elias Blackburn is the most wanted witch in the realm, and he intends to keep his infamous status.

#(The Most Wanted Witch: Elias Blackburn) #(~musings~)

[welcometothevale]

What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot? (rowan & rose)

Rowan:

They know a lot about fake human magic. Like the magic tricks Vegas magicians do. It was something that brought them joy as a child; they'd always been interested in magic. The magic tricks turned into witch's spells until they discovered they actually had a knack for magic. They're still pretty good at many card tricks and have an old magic kit they never let see the light of day. This is something no one in their life knows about them. But if anyone asked them to do a trick they'd be a little embarrassed first but otherwise excited to show off their knowledge. (this knowledge also makes them talented in other situations when slight of hand is useful).

Rose:

Rose has had plenty of time to study many, many things. She lived off of new information because her environment didn't change for 100 years. One topic she is particularly knowledgable about is silent films and other forms of theatre. She went through a huge theatre phase, which was hard because she could never see any of the plays she read live. Her favorite silent film is The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. And she could talk for hours about the specific elements of surrealism that went into the making of the movie.

#{Rowan} #{Rose} #headcanon #godzexperiment

[explorationoftheatrestyle]

Expressionism in Film

The idea of Expressionism being a means to explore and represent characters' innermost turmoil and emotion was incredibly clarifying. Also, the purpose of sets is to visually represent the wider madness existing within the characters. Characters on the fringe of society and sometimes marginalized like that of Gollum give the entire style a sense of real-life action and commentary.

Three scenes that stuck out to me were the moment that the camera zoomed in on Dr. Caligari's face silhouetted, the scene in the Hands of Orlock when Orlock is sitting by himself rubbing his face with his hands, and the scene at the beginning of The Gollum of the masks exhaling smoke as the Gollum casts a spell.

Visual elements within Expressionist films that I find striking and want to take with me into theatre are contrasting images. For example, there was an image early on in the video essay of a woman walking into a scene wearing all white. In contrast, the background was smokey and dark, which gave the impression that the woman in white was glowing. I also love industrial settings as allegories for the worst humanity has to offer.

#Youtube

[hacklesacademy]

Lady Blackwood doesn’t care. Lady Blackwood just wants everything to be as serene and nice as she is. Lady Blackwood, Zelda thinks as she fluffs her hair and smiles sweetly at a passing student, has the right fucking idea. - make me walk, make me talk, do whatever you please

So back in 2019 - hah, remember 2019? - I outlined a full series of Spellwood fic focusing on the Caligari spell and its potential aftereffects on someone as subby and praise kink-oriented as Zelda spends most of canon trying to hide. That plotline stirred up a lot of feelings for me - not feminist outrage as you’d expect, or even being triggered by the seriously shitty nature of it. No, I became fascinated by the fetishisation of ‘traditional’ femininity that resulted in going down a rabbit hole of tradwives, reclaiming the bimbo and dollification.

Nearly two years on, I own a lot of pink and have a running joke with my friends about needing a Caligari spell of my own to turn my brain off occasionally. I posted two chapters of the central fic - make me walk, make me talk, do whatever you please - and have been avoiding the requests to finish it because life got in the way. Now the show is over and I am ignoring certain parts of canon, it felt like a good time to pick it up again.

I’m going to finish the last chapter or two of MMWMWTDWYP and then write the, uh, five other fics in that universe, but first of all here is a little prequel from Zelda’s honeymoon, where she’s having a (mostly) marvellous time…

I’m having so much fun (we’re just getting started)

#fic: doll parts #spellwood #caos #zelda spellman x faustus blackwood #zelda spellman #faustus blackwood #caligari spell #kink fic #the chilling adventures of Sabrina #I'm going to hell but at least Michelle Gomez is there #dub con

[multimilfs]

Hi, darling! I didn't want to bother you so quickly, especially since you just wrote something at my request. But sorry, I couldn't resist seeing that Zelda is also on your masterlist. I was thinking about something where the reader was bitten by a werewolf and every now and then turns into one herself. She can't deal with the fact that something independent of her is taking control of her body, and she can't do much about it. And here comes Zelda, who also suffered a similar trauma when the Caligari spell was placed on her, and she herself had no power over her body. Maybe something in the context of their developing relationship? They both support each other, Zelda teaches the sensitive reader to overcome her fears and helps her control her "powers", and in return she shows Zelda what tenderness, affection and care mean. Thank you in advance and have a lovely day!

I present to you... your request! I really hope you like it!!!

#asks

[isingonly4myangel]

Wow ok, so it’s literally been more than a year and a half since @pretttybxby sent me this prompt, but here’s the first of probably 3 chapters! Set after part 2, each member of the Spellman family- some slower than others- realizes that the Caligari spell has left more of an impact on their Aunt Zee than they originally thought. (Massive thanks to @sibella-mysibella for helping beta this!) 

Darkness Before Dawn

Ambrose

Three days after the world nearly ended, Ambrose Spellman lay awake in his bed, studying the shadowed patterns on his ceiling cast by moonlight. The Witching Hour had come and gone long ago, but sleep had never followed it.

Resigning himself to the fact that rest would not come of its own accord, he tossed back his blanket and picked up one of the many dressing gowns scattered around his room; red with white pinstripes, a heavier material for an unseasonably chilly night. Knotting the ties around his waist, he cracked his door open just wide enough for him to slip through it, wincing as it creaked audibly. As quietly as possible, he crept downstairs.

After the previous evening, the flask hidden in his desk drawer was now empty, but he knew the liquor cabinet in the drawing room was fully stocked. Muttering a silencing spell, he padded into the drawing-room-turned-dormitory, mindful not to step on any unsuspecting students as he crossed to the table crowded with bottles and decanters. None of the Academy children would be so foolish as to touch Zelda’s alcohol, even the most idiotic among them knew that that would likely spell death. Ambrose, on the other hand, had more than half a century’s experience dealing with his aunt, and they had long ago come to a certain understanding on shared custody of the mortuary’s liquor supply.

He selected a mid-shelf whiskey, noticing that the bottle of Zelda’s favourite scotch was missing from its usual place. Thinking only that his aunt must have brought it up to her bedroom, he picked up a glass in his other hand and left the room as carefully as he had entered.

Stepping back into the foyer, the slightest movement in the corner of his eye made him turn his head towards the door. There in the window was a tiny speck of colour, a seemingly disembodied dot of orange. Upon closer inspection, a shadow moved- difficult to discern in the dark, but unmistakably the silhouette of his aunt, the lit end of her cigarette burning in the night. She sat on the porch, her back to the window as he watched her cigarette drift upwards again.

Ambrose frowned and squinted to check the clock in the foyer. Nearly quarter past four. His frown deepened as he heard Aunt Hilda’s words from that morning echo in his head. “Hellhounds, Zelds, you can’t be up all hours of the night!” The redhead claimed she’d had things to work on, had lost track of time, and would be in bed earlier that night. But now here she was on the porch, and Ambrose was willing to wager she had been there for quite some time.

Dissolving the silencing spell as he crossed the foyer, dexterous fingers secured both glass and bottle in one hand. With the other, he slowly eased open the front door, to minimise both creaking and the possibility of startling his aunt. He shut the door behind him, and as he hesitantly rounded the corner of the porch, Zelda turned her head to face him.

Rarely had Ambrose seen a sadness so profound in his aunt’s eyes. Sometimes he glimpsed the edges of it, and he had long thought that it must live in her always, beneath the surface, though she kept herself guarded and her emotions well-hidden. But in the darkness, illuminated only by the end of her cigarette, her eyes seemed almost heavy with it. And as he stood and looked at her looking back at him, he slowly understood that a similar sadness was echoed in his own gaze.

With a quiet sigh, Ambrose stepped forward, dropping into the wicker chair opposite the one Zelda occupied. He placed the glass and bottle on the table that sat between the chairs, mindful of Zelda’s ashtray and her own glass, unsurprisingly accompanied by the scotch missing from the drawing room. Reaching for his whiskey, he paused as he realised Zelda’s hand had beaten his to the table, already filling his glass from her own bottle. She pulled the blanket draped over her shoulders tighter around herself and exhaled another cloud of smoke into the dark. Ambrose accepted the scotch with the ghost of a smile on his lips, tucking one leg up at an angle.

They sat silently, side by side on the porch, until deep blue night gave way to a grey dawn, and birds chirped distantly in the woods. The house behind them began to wake, stairs creaking as students competed quietly for hot water in their baths, and the kitchen came to life at Hilda’s hand. Soon there would be breakfast and chatter, the warmth of a spring day, and appearances to be upheld. But for just a moment longer, aunt and nephew held a wordless conference on the porch, watching the last remnants of night disappear.

Zelda was the first to move, crushing the remains of her latest cigarette in the nearby ashtray. She stood, the blanket catching at the bend of her elbows and falling down her back as though it were a cloak. Pale hands clutched the edges of the blanket around her arms, and Ambrose felt almost uneasy at how very small she appeared in that moment, with darkness in her eyes and exhaustion in her movements.

Ambrose watched as she crossed in front of his chair on her way inside, but she paused as she came alongside him, a gentle hand floating up to rest lightly on his shoulder. He looked up at her, but she did not meet his gaze. Reaching an arm across himself, he lifted her hand from his shoulder and held it in his own, pressing a chaste kiss to her fingers. Her grasp on his hand tightened, and he glanced up at her again, seeing tears pool in her eyes for only a moment before she had released his hand and disappeared into the house.

#im sorry this took so long oh my god #caos #the chilling adventures of sabrina #zelda spellman #ambrose spellman #hilda spellman #sabrina spellman #caligari spell #writings #my writing #caos fic #caos part 2 #prompt answered

[sapphic-sedai]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Ambrose Spellman & Zelda Spellman Characters: Ambrose Spellman, Zelda Spellman Additional Tags: embalming, proceed with caution if your squeemish, Caligari Spell, alludes to non-consensual sexual acts Summary:

Ambrose discovers Zelda in the embalming room, using her special odd method to cope with the trauma of the Caligari Spell

#her specialty #embalming #caligari spell #zelda spellman #ambrose spellman #caos fanfiction #y'all i dont really hold back on this embalming stuff #i did way too much research #dont eat before reading this or the next chapter of awban

[know-the-way]

Do you think the calligari spell was the plan all along?

Really not sure. Yes and no, probably?

Like I’m 99% positive he had some sort of plan to keep her under control - it’s in line with his character to do so and for someone described as being “afraid” of Zelda for being “unconquerable,” it just makes sense he would take the cowardly route to subdue her before she became too formidable for him in their marriage.

Something tells me, though, that perhaps he always had the idea in the back of his mind as a fail-safe for his plans, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it (much like his “contingency plan” for the anti-pope when his manifesto was threatened by Edward’s). I think he wanted her to submit to him willingly and take his side over her meddlesome family when shit inevitably hit the fan. And, ya know, for a second there - Zelda seemed like she was taking his side after Sabrina and Ambrose crashed her wedding (like “damn he’s had a point this whole time - my brother was an ass who ruined my potential matrimony without my knowledge or consent when I was young, my niece acted on a rash and unfounded assumption and embarrassed tf out of me in front of everyone tonight, and Ambrose appears to have become unhinged while on a murder spree for some reason... like holy shit, he may actually have been right all along, fuck me”).

HOWEVER, she also showed some lingering loyalty to them in convincing him to only expel Sabrina and Nick as opposed to imprisoning them. And knowing what we know of Zelda - I am rather certain that she tried to advocate for Ambrose after they arrived in Italy, too. She would’ve known better than to ask for too much at once and - at this point - I’m sure she still thought she could “restore her family’s luster and seek her own glory” by playing Faustus like the cuntstruck fool he always was and asking for mercy for her family in expertly-calculated layers.

But I think their wedding would also have been the absolute last straw for him, too - evidence the Spellmans would always interfere no matter what, so... he could have decided that night it was time to get rid of them once and for all. And he knew Zelda would never willingly watch that happen, so... Caligari spell (as I said - big coward energy 🌝).

#zelda spellman #faustus blackwood #spellwood #caos #caligari spell #for those who don’t understand