#yes she is named after the black cat from hocus pocus | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

Text

Slashers / Horror Villains as: Animated (Children’s) Movie Villain Songs

+ A Nightmare Before Christmas

First of all, its mostly Disney. Second of all, I hope you know that this was a struggle for me.

Also, note, Bubba will be the only Leatherface in this post and Billy and Stu will be the only Ghostfaces. There is Norma Bates though, so sort of a consolation.

There are links to videos on YouTube ^^

~~~

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher / Ghostface: Playing With the Big Boy’s Now (Hotep and Huy, Prince of Egypt)

Well... they’re part of the ‘big boys’, now! They are part of the Slashers group that, uh, ‘inspired them’. Imagine instead of Egyptian Gods, they’re chanting Slasher names.

[HUY] Pick up your silly twig, boy [HOTEP & HUY] You're playing with the big boys now! Ha ha ha ha!

[EGYPTIAN PRIESTS] By the power of Ra Mut, Nut, Khnum, Ptah Sobek, Sekhmet, Sokar, Selket Anubis, Anukis Hemsut, Tefnut, Meshkent, Mafdet...

Chop Top and Nubbins + Bubba Sawyer / Leatherface: Kidnap Mr Sandy Claws (Lock, Shock and Barrel, Nightmare Before Christmas)

I mean... they aren't Drayton’s minions, but they are like this XD

I say that we take a cannon, aim it at his door And then knock three times And when he answers Sandy Claws will be no more

Yes you're so stupid, think now If we blow him up to smithereens We may lose some pieces And then Jack will beat us black and green

Kidnap the Sandy Claws Tie him in a bag

Chucky / Charles Lee Ray: In The Dark Of The Night (Rasputin, Anastasia)

Mystical man? Check! ‘Betrayal’ (As far as he sees it)? Check. Made them pay? Check; I think Nica, Sarah and all the other families he destroys throughout the franchise can attest to that. And ‘One little girl got away’? Well Andy isn’t a girl, but yeah. Check.

I was once the most mystical man in all Russia When the royals betrayed me they mad a mistake My curse made each of them pay But one little girl got away Little Anya, beware Rasputin's awake

Drayton Sawyer: Don’t Fall In Love (Forte, Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas)

Its such a crochety, unessessarily rude way of describing relationships to someone! I mean, I understand completely and resonate deeply with the desire to be alone and not be responsible for anyone else, but- come on! Beast doesn't share your view! Let it go!

Its just like Drayton’s reaction to Bubba having a crush. Super cool video too!

As soon as your heart rules your head Your life is not your own It's hell when someone's always there It's bliss to be alone

And love of any kind is bad A dog, a child, a cat They take up so much precious time Now, where's the sense in that?

Freddy Krueger: No More Mr Nice Guy (Rothbart, Swan Princess)

A man with an uncomfortable relationship with the main female character pretending to be normal and not homicidal for a while before unlocking more power and letting there inner bad guy loose and taking great pleasure in it? Sounds familiar. They also have a similar vocabulary- except of course Rothbart is rated G.

I'll become that nasty, naughty, dirty, spiteful Wicked, wayward, way-delightful Bad guy I was born to be

Lyin' loathesome, never-tender Indiscreet repeat offender No more Mr Nice Guy That's not me

Inkubus: The World’s Greatest Criminal Mind (Professor Rattigan, The Greatest Mouse Detective)

‘Inkubus’ is literally a movie about him listing all his crimes over the centuries and messing with the police force because he has a bone to pick with a detective. Sounds pretty similar to me! Listen to the song! ^^

Now comes the real tour de force Tricky and wicked, of course! My earlier crimes were fine for their times But now that I'm at it again An even grimmer plot has been simmering In my great criminal brain!

Jason Voorhees: Despicable Me (About Gru, Despicable Me)

I... this is all I could think of!! But the more I listen to it and read the lyrics... it f i t s Jason so well! XD Please just let this slide; I know Gru isn't really a villain but he is at the start!! Let me have this.

Why ask why? Better yet "Why not?" Why are you marking x on that spot? Why use a blow torch isn't that hot? Why use a chainsaw? Is that all you got? Why do you like seeing people in shock? But my question to you is "Why not?" Why go to the bank and stand in line Just use a freeze gun it saves me time. I'm havin' a bad, bad day It's about time that I get my way Steam rollin' whatever I see, Huh, despicable me I'm havin' a bad, bad day If you take it personal that's okay Watch, this is so fun to see Huh, despicable me

Jennifer Check: Trust In Me (Kaa, The Jungle Book)

She’s a succubus demon. Tempting boys into a safe-feeling, docile state so she she can strike is her thing.

Will cease to resist Just relax Be at rest Like a bird In a nest

Trust in me Just in me Shut your eyes And trust in me

Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone: Savages (Governor Ratcliffe and the Colonizer’s parts, Pocahontas)

Obviously, because of the (Inaccurate) historical relevance of both movies (Different time’s, same terrible prejudice,) and also because there is definitely a very cult-ish feel about both Governor Ratcliffe’s song and Buckman’s leadership. How easily they’re able to gather support from their people for the most horrible reasons. How horrifying it is to audiences and historians.

They're only good when dead They're vermin, as I said And worse

They're savages! Savages!

Barely even human

Savages! Savages!

Drive them from our shore! They're not like you and me Which means they must be evil We must sound the drums of war!

Michael Myers: The Gospel Truth II (Muses about Hades, Hercules)

In a Disney movie, Michael would have others sing his song about him as he goes about his silent, determined walking XD

If there's one God you don't want to get steamed up It's Hades 'Cause he had an evil plan He ran the underworld But thought the dead were dull and uncouth He was as mean as he was ruthless And that's the gospel truth He had a plan to shake things up And that's the gospel truth

Midnight Man: Oogie Boogie’s Song (Oogie Boogie, Nightmare Before Christmas)

A song about a “Gamblin’ Boogie Man” is perfect for the Midnight Man! He and Oogie could be pals.

Woah! The sound of rollin' dice To me is music in the air 'Cause I'm a gamblin' Boogie Man Although I don't play fair It's much more fun, I must confess When lives are on the line Not mine, of course, but yours, old boy Now that'd be just fine

Norma Bates: Mother Knows Best Reprise (Mother Gothel, Tangled)

Norma is soooooo so so so unbelievably manipulative towards Norman (And Dylan. It just works better on Norman) and this song absolutely presents that. She can go from sweet, loving mother to spiteful, heinous bitch in two seconds if Norman or Dylan don't do what or react the way she wants them to.

Likes you? Please, Rapunzel, that's demented

This is why you never should have left! Dear, this whole romance that you've invented, Just proves you're too naive to be here Why would he like you? Come on now, really! Look at you, you think that he's impressed? Don't be a dummy Come with mummy

Pamela Voorhees: My Lullaby (Zira, The Lion King 2)

In a opposite approach to a villainous mother to Norma, we have Pam, who was heartbroken by the camp councillors letting her son die and vowed to get revenge. She didn't know she was teaching Jason to be the Crystal Lake killer like Zira did, but she did, and the whole song does have her kind of feel to it also.

Sleep, my little Kovu Let your dreams take wing One day when you're big and strong You will be a kingI've been exiled, persecuted Left alone with no defense When I think of what that brute did I get a little tense But I dream a dream so pretty That I don't feel so depressed 'Cause it soothes my inner kitty And it helps me get some rest

Patrick Bateman: Cruella De Vil (Arthur, 101 Dalmations)

Never before was there a song that described audiences reaction to watching Patrick living in his daily life and hearing his thoughts better then this one.

Cruella De Vil Cruella De Vil If she doesn't scare you No evil thing will To see her is to Take a sudden chill Cruella, Cruella De Vil

The curl of her lips The ice in her stare All innocent children Had better beware She's like a spider waiting For the kill Look out for Cruella De Vil

Pennywise (Both): You’re Only Second Rate (Jafar, Return of Jafar)

Mostly for the video and Jafar’s energy in this scene actually XD So many transformations, so many tasteless puns! I was going to give this to Freddy but its the closest thing to Penny I could think of.

Go ahead and zap me with the big surprise Snap me in a trap, cut me down to size I'll make a great escape It's just a piece of cake You're only second rate You know your hocus-pocus isn't tough enough And your mumbo-jumbo doesn't measure up Let me pontificate upon your sorry state You're only second rate

Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt: Hellfire (Judge Claude Frollo, Hunchback of Notre Dame)

A nasty filthy man who think’s he’s in the right despite being the biggest creep and monster ever? Mhm.

*Note: I honestly didn't notice the deformed baby, Quasimodo/Thomas link until the day after I wrote this. Don't know how I feel about it. I mean, Hoyt is actually nice, in his way, to Thomas so the connection isn't totally there but onwards:

Beata Maria You know I am a righteous man Of my virtue I am justly proud

Beata Maria You know I'm so much purer than The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd

End of Post! 🌼

(Bonus’ under the cut)

I did think of other connections which I obviously didnt landed on but still have merit! Here!

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher: ‘Gaston’ was considered, but that would have just been a joke XD I don’t think Stu is quite as obsessed with Billy as LeFou is with Gaston.

Chucky: Friends on the Other Side. Obviously! That link was actually what inspired me to make this post. In The Dark of Night fits to a T though.

Freddy Krueger: You’re Only Second Rate! Ah, its perfectttt. But No More Mr Nice Guy fits better. If I ever do a Slashers as Disney Villains post, he’ll be Jafar for sure. Or Hades. Or Scar. Or Oogie. Probably Hades. You know what? Without the gore and blood and explicit sexual references, Freddy could be a Disney Villain himself. Its not like Disney hasn't towed the line before with perverted villains. >_> (Jafar and Frollo)

Jason and Pamela Voorhees: Mother Knows Best! Of course.

Jennifer Check: Love is For Peasants (Barbie Island Princess) Because Jennifer thinks like this:

Men? <<< Literally anything else.

Patrick Bateman: How Can I Refuse? (From Barbie Princess and the Pauper) XD If Patrick were a kids movie villain, he would totally join the ranks of corrupted usurpers pretending to be trustworthy royal advisory staff. Also ‘Let It Die’, that little interruption part of another song that O’Hare sings in the Lorax and ‘How Bad Can I be?’.

179 notes · View notes

mr-walkingrainbow · 3 years

Note

Ask box empty? Well here's a charm related question: Out of all of Mel's relationships (I'm counting Abimel in that, because of all the flirts in s3) , what would each pairing get as a pet, and how would they acquire said pet? Would any of each pairing want children AND pets? Bonus points for thoughts on what pets Hacy, and VeraChase would get.

Omg what is this??? THE TUMBLEWEEDS ARE MOVING BACK IN AWWW I MISSED THEM SO MUCH!!! They were beckoned by the sound of near deserted ness!!!! Haha, at least it’s not completely deserted anymore!!!!

ok HIT ME

HMMMMMM

SKSKSKSKS OK ILL GO OFF NO INVITE NEEDED

1. Mel/Niko they’d get either a black cat, or a sheep dog! Idky I can see them with both really strongly. (Also Niko literally went as a black cat for that Halloween party so like KUDOS TO ME!) they’d be moderately good at keeping them healthy, Niko would make sure the pet would be up on vaccins ans everything while Mel would add feeding it to her natural schedule.

2. Mel/Jada. I am very pleased to say my ADHD lesbian and my Himbo witchlighter would be the very proud owners of a GOLDFISH!!! Considering combined they have the attention and memory of a peanut, a goldfish is really all they (let’s be real, it’s all JADA) can keep without instantly killing it. Jada is adorabley obsessed with FILLBERT. Yes, they named the goldfish filbert. And she absolutely kills herself to make sure her goldfish is the most loved and well taken care of fish ever. She spoils him with an extra large tank and 100$ worth of fish aquipment pieces like that ones that do bubbles and shit. She’s even trying to teach him tricks. Mel know it won’t work but she always claps along when Jada presents everything he’s “learned”

3. Mel/Kat, oh hell yeah they’d somehow find a black cat with an oddly 13 white shaped blob on his back. They’d name the cat Binx, after Zachary binx from Hocus pocus. They’d then get two other baby cats named Hocus and Pocus respectively. Kat is like the cat whisperer and somehow seems to always know what they want.

4. Mel/Ruby you heard it here and now Ruby is the overprotective owner of two amazing HAMSTERS!!! She very not subtly named them Dark, and Stormy. Mel finds it adorable and like the ultimate act of love. Ruby treats them as if they were baby humans and always asks them questions even if they don’t respond. She even tries to remove the cage from their room if they’re about to have some—ooof- sexy times. But those hamsters have definitely seen more then they should have

Mel x ABBY! Abby was walking home one day and found a box with a Kitten and a puppy, both dirty and banged up. Something tugged at the bottom of her cold dark heart (low key it reminded her of being abandoned by her family) so she promptly took them home and declared her and Mel were now parents.

(Mel had a mini heart attack their until Abby clarified)

They name the cat Faded (HA YOULL FIND OUT WHY IF I EVER FINISH THIS FANFIC IM WRITING) and the dog Soul. (Mel got inspiration from her mom MariSOL)

The cat becomes instantly attached to Abby, and literally climbs to her wherever they go. Abby doesn’t mind and Faded becomes a Therapy/anxiety cat in a sort of way.

Mel loves Soul so much and he’s just the best little boy, always super obedient and snuggly!

ANNNNNND THEIR IT IS GUYS!!!

THANK YOU AYE-NON! LOVE YOU ❤️

11 notes · View notes

maria-scribbles · 4 years

Text

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part three

summary: while mother nature isn’t very kind to the obx, jj’s dad is even worse to him. sailor sees the aftermath, relives a day that changed her life forever, and realizes she’d be down with murder if she could get away with it. between nutella sandwiches, story time, and a shared bed, an unspoken thing slowly starts to become a little more real.

word count: 6.9k+ (oops 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings: abuse/neglect, blood, mentions of parental abandonment/gambling addiction, swearing, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, blatant references to hocus pocus, the little mermaid, percy jackson and the olympians, and mean girls (and a teeny, subtle reference to stranger things, see if y’all can catch it! 😉)

a/n: i was so excited to write this part, not gonna lie (if you couldn’t tell, just look at that word count). hurt/comfort is my shittt and i’m a pretty big slut for physical comfort/touches so i kinda went ham with it lol. i’m also very happy to finally introduce everyone to peyton, who’s a character i really love and enjoy writing, especially her relationship with her gf alison. both of them will get some time to shine in this part, peyton in the present and alison in the past! as usual, this is unbetaed so all mistakes belong to me. enjoy!

gif credit to @sci-fi

~Masterlist~

part one | part two | part four | playlist

part three: storm surge

It rains the entire week. Scratch that -it storms: the whole island buffeted by howling winds and blanketed by a thick layer of dark and angry clouds that make life just shy of miserable. For someone who spends 99% of her time outside like Sailor, miserable doesn’t begin to cover it. And to think, it’s only the beginning of hurricane season.

The redhead props her chin in one tan hand as she leans against the cool marble counter of The Butterscotch Bonnet Ice Cream Parlor, watching the rain pound against the shop’s bay windows. Across the street she can just make out the rough, gray surf of the Atlantic through a tiny gap in between two buildings and she sighs wistfully, thinking about all the beautiful shells getting tossed onto the beach by the waves. She’s half tempted to just throw off her apron, hop the counter, and make a break for the sand, storm be damned.

She’s almost positive she wouldn’t even be missed. There isn’t a customer in sight and there hasn’t been one since she started her shift three hours ago. Peyton was still in the back kitchen, messing around with whatever convoluted ice cream flavor she thought up for this week; her boss definitely has a knack for concocting weird combinations that somehow work together, at least most of the time. Sailor thinks back to a few weeks ago when they debuted that delicious blackberry balsamic that sold out every day without fail, then followed it with a cilantro lime that was hit-or-miss (a definite miss in her opinion, as cilantro just tastes like soap to her; Peyton had just smiled her infectious smile, shrugged her tiny shoulders, and said, “Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.”) This week’s flavor involves mascarpone and peaches and she can’t wait to steal a sample because if the wonderful smell coming from the kitchen is any indication, it’s gonna be bomb, even though it probably won’t upset the shop’s namesake flavor from the top of her list.

Thinking about ice cream makes her kind of hungry, on top of the fact that she has a terrible habit of eating when she’s bored, so she dishes out a small scoop of Butterscotch Bonnet and grabs a spoon before leaning back against the counter, digging through the cup to find the best part: salted caramel-filled chocolate sea shells, made in house. The days Sailor gets to help make them are her favorite days to come to work, when she and Peyton commandeer the kitchen and have the time of their lives, blasting music and dancing as they slave away. Of course, the little bag of chocolates she gets to take home is a pretty big plus, too.

“That’s coming out of your paycheck, Sail.”

Spoon halfway to her mouth, she sheepishly glances up from her snack as Peyton emerges from the kitchen, fondly shaking her head and sending her inky black braids dancing across her shoulders.

“What am I gonna do with you?” She continues with a wink before starting to make herself a milkshake, dropping two scoops of their tiramisu flavor into a malt cup.

“Sorry, you know I can’t help myself!” Sailor knows the other girl was joking but she apologizes anyway and opens the cabinet to grab a cup and straw for her, setting them on the counter beside the old-fashioned milkshake machine. As far as bosses go, Peyton is one of the all-around best to have and the redhead loves working at her shop. While the Buckleys are rich as shit and total kooks, the family’s youngest daughter is down to earth, kind, and prefers to work hard for what she wants instead of flaunting her parents’ wealth and The Butterscotch Bonnet is proof that, despite her last name and penchant for the finer things, she’s a pogue at heart. It’s no wonder Alison’s head over heels for her.

“I also know you’re bored as shit.” Peyton calls over the sound of the blender, sending a knowing smirk toward the younger girl, who rolls her eyes and shovels another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth as she replies, “Obviously. This weather fucking sucks.”

A loud clap of thunder seems to shake the very glass in the windows and she gestures toward the storm outside, her point proven. Peyton glances around the deserted shop, still bright and cheery despite its lack of movement and life, then back to the relentless downpour, before shrugging and turning back to finish blending her milkshake. “Wanna go home early?”

“Seriously?”

“Why not? You’ve already cleaned this whole place from top to bottom and I don’t think we’re gonna be getting customers any time soon.” Ignoring the paper cup, she plops the straw straight into her drink and takes a big sip, then nods in satisfaction before adding a huge swirl of whipped cream on top.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?” Sailor asks, smiling excitedly as she grabs her bag from under the counter and tosses her empty cup into the trash.

“Only every day,” the older girl replies cheekily, smiling as she’s pulled into a one-armed hug of thanks by her employee.

“Well, you’re gonna hear it again: you’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peyton pats the redhead’s shoulder with one deep brown hand and then gently pushes her toward the kitchen. “Now get out of here, brat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Sailor throws a peace sign over her shoulder as she heads out the door, cackling at her boss’s offended call of “don’t call me ma’am!” After clocking out, she fishes her keys out of her bag and dashes through the downpour to her beat-up clunker of a truck. A hand-me-down from Alison, Flounder’s nothing to look at with all the dents and chips in his blue paint, but he gets her where she needs to go and has room for surfboards in the back and two other pogues up front on the bench seat -and the other two unlucky ones riding in the bed, hiding under the boards- so she’s not complaining, even though she wishes his radio worked more than half the time.

(Two reasons why John B’s almost always the group chauffeur: the fact that he can legally drive all five of them around without breaking the law -not that they’ve ever gotten caught in Sailor’s truck but anyone with a brain knows that where one pogue goes, the other four aren’t far behind- and good music flowing from a perfectly working stereo.)

Unfortunately, it’s on the fritz today so her drive home is spent listening to the sounds of Flounder’s windshield wipers and the pounding of rain against his roof. She heads inland from the beach, away from Peyton’s shop in the outskirts of affluent Figure 8 and its kook mansions to the more homey, laid-back Cut, passing by the turnoff to the Chateau and through the woods before pulling into the empty driveway of her tiny house. The fact that her mother’s car is no where to be found doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. Waiting for her on the porch is Binx, the stray black cat she’s taken to feeding and more or less adopted, stretching on the blanket she left out for him.

“Hey, handsome,” The redhead says, kneeling down to give him a loving scratch behind the ears; he meows in response and rubs his fuzzy face against her ankles, weaving between her legs as she slides her key into the lock. “Come on in.”

The front door closes behind them with a hollow bang that echoes through the empty house like the thunder outside. Sailor hangs up her keys and follows Binx down the hall toward her room, ignoring the closed door that leads to her mom’s room and a bed that she assumes hasn’t been slept in in months. Not that she would know: she’s made it a habit to spend as few nights as possible alone in the house, instead crashing at the Chateau or Kiara’s place and hoping her mom’s comfortable in her makeshift room at The Sandbar where Carmen doesn’t have to deal with the teenager she’s supposed to be caring for (Sailor’s always been an independent girl and has no trouble getting by alone but fuck, that doesn’t mean she wants to.).

Her father’s green eyes, the same color as her own, stare back at her from a picture hanging on the wall of a better time, when everything was alright and her family wasn’t so broken; the three of them on the beach with a twelve year old Sailor in the middle and surfboards in hand. Carmen looks like the mother she remembers and misses so bad it hurts, and while Ryan wasn’t always the most caring of fathers and only acted like a dad when it was convenient, she’d still do anything to have him back, terrible parenting skills and all. She turns away from the picture and the complicated mess her heart becomes when she thinks about him, continuing down the hall to her room.

Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover her feelings about her dad, though. She’s always believed she was an afterthought to him, never first on his list but still good enough to tag along for company when he was doing something he wanted to do. He was a man who liked the idea of having a kid but never wanted to actually step up and parent when things weren’t all fun and games, instead deciding to take off to Atlantic City for a month or two at a time to gamble away whatever money they earned at the surf shop.

She wants to hate him. She should loathe him and in a way, she does. She hates the way he still makes her feel like everything’s her fault, even when he’s not around. She hates the person her mother becomes when he disappears, someone distant and cold and so unlike the good, caring mother Sailor remembers. She hates that home doesn’t feel like home anymore and it’s all his fault, and she hates that despite everything he’s put her through, all the hurt he’s caused, she still can’t find it in her big, bleeding heart to truly detest her father. After all, he could’ve been worse. So, so much worse.

The only place she can get away from everything is her room, her own little sanctuary from the cold emptiness of the rest of the house and constant reminders of Ryan’s absence. It’s warm and bright, the walls painted a sunny yellow that reminds her of lazy days relaxing on the beach. Her first surfboard hangs on the wall above her bed, tucked away in a corner, doubling as a shelf for her massive shell collection while pictures of her and her friends dangle underneath, pinned to a long piece of twine. Her current boards stand propped in another corner, leaning against a wall plastered with all types of movie and music posters. Through the windows covered with curtains as light as sea foam, the rain steadily pours but in here, she’s safe. In here, she can breathe.

Sailor strips off her uniform, tossing it along with her bag onto the chair by the door and slips out of her worn red high-tops before pulling on a pair of sleep shorts and the first long-sleeve shirt her fingers find in the closet, then flops onto her bed and pulls the soft blue blanket around her shoulders, reading glasses and well-loved copy of The Lightning Thief in hand while Binx curls up at her feet. Every summer without fail she rereads the series (why, she’s not exactly sure: maybe its nostalgia, maybe its because she lowkey relates to water-loving, steadfastly loyal Percy) and she’s fallen behind this year, so she fully intends on reading as much as she can tonight before bed. The storm provides perfect background noise and soon she’s five chapters in before a sudden loud knock on her window causes her head to snap up in alarm.

Oh no. Without bothering to save her place, she tosses the book and her glasses aside and scrambles from the bed to the window, tearing open the curtains to reveal a sight she always dreads seeing. Her best friend stands outside in the rain, soaked to the bone, hand pressed against his side, and the sight of bright red blood trailing down his face and staining the collar of his gray shirt makes her heart drop to her stomach. Wordlessly, she opens the window and helps him climb inside before closing it firmly and drawing the curtains, once again blocking the world from her -now their- sanctuary, then grabs her blanket from the bed and wraps it tightly around JJ’s shaking shoulders after he kicks off his sodden boots.

Her hand slowly moves to cup his face and her heart breaks a little more when he tenses, blue eyes carefully tracking its movement until he seems to remember who it belongs to and lets himself lean into her touch, cheek resting against her palm. Sailor runs her thumb under his split lip and and wipes at the crimson staining his tan skin, her mouth curving into a small frown when she only succeeds in smearing it further.

“Come on,” She breaks the silence with her gentle voice, barely above a whisper, and reaches her other hand out to take his, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

His fingers hold so, so tight as she leads him down the hall to the bathroom and she’s so laser-focused on the way they tremble against hers that she doesn’t notice the blood left behind on the handle when she opens the door. After flicking on the light she turns to face him and gently pushes the blanket from his shoulders with her free hand, letting it fall to the floor in a damp heap, then blindly reaches behind her to turn on the shower, cranking the heat as high as it’ll go.

“Sorry about your blanket.” JJ says at last, his voice quiet, and Sailor shakes her head, running her thumb in circles on the back of his cold hand.

“I don’t care about that, J.” She replies just as quiet and before she can stop herself, before she can think about what exactly she’s about to admit, she adds, “I care about you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a barely-there smile and while it may be tiny, it’s a smile nonetheless and she feels the tight knot in her chest begin to loosen as she lets go of his hand, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Can you lift your arms for me?”

He does as she asks but his pained wince doesn’t go unnoticed by the redhead when she pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on top of the discarded blanket, and her jaw clenches at the sight of deep purple bruises in the shape of his father’s fists marring the skin over his ribs.

“Let me know if this hurts.” Oh so carefully she reaches out with one hand and gently touches the darkest mark, where she’d seen him clutching at outside her window, her fingers delicately feeling for any damages.

“A little.” He admits, shaky breath warm against her forehead and she does her best to keep her hand steady as she checks over the rest of him, then feathers her fingers back over that first bruise.

“It doesn’t feel like anything’s broken or cracked, so that’s good.” She says, allowing her hand to linger for a second before letting it fall from his side. “A rib or two might be a little bruised, though, so we’ll put some ice on them later, just in case. Sound good?”

JJ nods and watches her with those ocean blue eyes as she pulls her own shirt over her head, leaving her in a plain black cami and shorts, before grabbing his hand once again and pulling him into the shower with her. The water’s just a tad too hot and it instantly starts turning her skin red but Sailor doesn’t mind, instead choosing to embrace the heat and the way it burns everything away, leaving behind brand new skin that’s ready for a new day, new adventures. She reaches up and gingerly wipes the blood from her best friend’s face; in a mirror of earlier, he leans his cheek into her palm, eyes slowly closing while both arms wrap around her waist and pull her close.

“Sail,” He whispers her nickname into the humid air between them and she barely registers the tremble in his voice before his knees buckle, sinking them both to the shower floor until they’re face to face, sitting in between each other’s legs. He clings to her, arms even tighter around her waist and face buried against her neck, and she feels the shake of his shoulders when she winds her own arms around them. One hand moves to steadily run through wet blond hair, over and over, comforting in the best way she knows how, the fingers of her other hand tracing circles on the bare skin of his back as water continues to rain down on them like the downpour outside.

She’s eerily reminded of another time they sat like this, sobbing in each other’s arms five years ago, the first time she saw just how cruel his father could be, the first time she realized she’d do absolutely everything and anything to keep him safe, and it was both one of the best and worst days of her life.

Eleven year old Sailor shoved her math textbook into her cluttered locker and kicked it shut with a scowl. She hated math, her math teacher, and especially whoever made her schedule- who in their right mind would put math in eighth-period? She swung her backpack onto her shoulder and grunted softly at the extra weight it carried. JJ hadn’t come to school that day and Sailor had volunteered to take his missed work to him; it made sense, considering she lived closest out of the pogues and it’d make her feel better if she got to check on him herself -there was a reason the rest of the group called her the mom friend, after all.

She’d already collected assignments from the classes he shared with Pope and Kiara as well as herself, so now she was just waiting for John B to drop off his own. As if summoned by her thoughts, the brunet boy rounded the corner and waved, weaving his way to her through their fellow middle-schoolers. “Sorry, you know how Mr. Jefferson likes to go on and on and on...” He said, pulling some papers from his backpack and handing them to the redhead. “Do you remember where J’s house is?”

Sailor rolled her eyes and carefully slid the homework into her own bag. “Considering I live, like, five streets away, I sure hope so.” She fired back, ignoring his cackle of laughter as they joined the rush of students, excited for the weekend, flooding out through the double doors of Kildare County Middle School. She lingered by her friend as he unlocked his bike from the rack and then climbed on, asking, “You’re helping out at the shop on Saturday, right?”

She nodded, scanning the sea of waiting cars and waving when she spotted her ride. “Yeah, why?”

“My dad and I are gonna hang out at the beach that day so we’ll stop by and say hi.” With a casual salute in her direction he slowly started pedaling down the road, calling back over his shoulder, “Tell JJ he can come too if he’s feeling better!”

“Tell him yourself!” She yelled after his retreating back, not surprised in the slightest when he didn’t turn around and disappeared into the trees. Alison’s beat up blue truck pulled up to the curb seconds later and the older redhead leaned out the open window, a shit-eating grin on her face as she joked, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Sailor laughed and climbed into the passenger seat, dropping her backpack on the floor with a loud thump. Alison winced at the sound, raising her eyebrow as she waited for the younger girl to put her seatbelt on. “What the hell do you have in there, rocks?”

“One of my friends missed school today so I have his homework. Do you mind driving by so I can drop it off? He only lives a few streets away.”

“Sure,” Alison replied, flicking on her turn signal and merging into the stream of cars leaving the school’s parking lot. “So who skipped: Smarty Pants, Bandana Boy, or Surfer Bro?”

The eleven year old giggled at the nicknames -she’d never admit it, but they were honestly pretty accurate- and replied, “Surfer Bro. And his name is JJ, Ali.”

“Rightttt, JJ. What do you think it stands for, huh? Jesse James? John Jacob?”

“Oh my Godddddd!”

The high school senior continued to come up with names, each more ridiculous than the last until Sailor exclaimed “There!” and directed her to park near a small, run-down house on a quiet road. She pulled a folder from her backpack and was out the door before the older girl could blink, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back!”

The redhead slammed the truck door behind her and made her way toward the porch and what she assumed was the front door; she’d never been inside JJ’s house but he always came out to meet them through there so she figured it was a safe bet. The smile fell from her face, ears registering the sound of horrible, angry yelling just as she brought her fist down to knock and she anxiously fidgeted back and forth on the step, her heart starting to beat fast in her chest. What the hell was going on?

"Fucking hell!” An enraged shout came clear as day from inside and as she heard the person’s stomping approach, something in her, a feeling, urged her to hide the folder in her hand behind her back. She jumped in surprise when the door was suddenly ripped open, revealing a fuming, red-faced man who glared down at her with heavily lidded eyes and one hand clenched in a fist at his side, the other holding the threshold in a white-knuckled grip. “What the hell do you want?”

“H-hi, I’m Sailor, one of JJ’s friends? He wasn’t at school today so I came by to check on him.” She said, proud of herself for keeping most of the tremble out of her voice while she studiously avoided his cruel gaze, instead subtly trying to peer behind him and hopefully catch a glimpse of her friend. The man, who she realized with sheer horror had to be JJ’s dad, was absolutely terrifying, with breath reeking of booze and mouth curled into a vicious snarl as he moved to block her view into the house and snapped, “Kid’s fine. Now get the fuck outta here.”

“Can I just see-”

She was cut off when he slammed the door in her face with the hand that had been by his side and her eyes widened, stomach sinking with dread as she caught sight of the splotch of bright crimson left behind on the wood. Oh, God. This could not be happening. She remembered John B’s warning about JJ’s dad, saying he wasn’t a very nice man when she became friends with them last year but she didn’t recall him ever saying anything about this and it hits her like a freight train: he probably didn’t know. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. If JB didn’t know then Pope and Kiara definitely didn’t and a sickening feeling started to churn her belly, both at the thought of JJ facing all of this by himself and the fact that she alone had the power to help.

Inside the house, she heard his dad resume his screaming, every other word accompanied by a sickening thumping noise she’d only heard in person once before, a few years ago on the beach with her parents when two drunk tourons started wailing on each other over a spilled beer: the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Sailor started to panic, both hands flying to cover her mouth in terror. Underneath the screaming and punching, she couldn’t hear anything, any cry or yelp or whimper from her friend and, mind racing with million terrible, awful thoughts, she turned and ran back to the truck, flinging open the door and scrambling inside to grab Alison’s arm, folder in her hands falling to the floor.

“Ali, please, we’ve got to help him-”

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” The older girl joked as she looked up from her phone, smile falling from her lips when she caught sight of the eleven year old’s pale face and wide eyes. She reached over and placed her hands on Sailor’s slight, trembling shoulders. “What’s going on?”

Her lip quivered terribly as she told Alison everything she saw and heard, watching her expression slowly twist into outright dismay, the fingers on her shoulders tightening their grip when she finished, “Ali, what’re we gonna do? We have to help him right now!”

“Fuck, okay, first off let’s calm down- don’t give me that look, kid! We can’t just burst in there like Wonder Woman or something, let me- oh, look!” Alison pointed through windshield, where JJ’s dad furiously stalked from the house to his truck, climbing inside and violently slamming the door before taking off in a cloud of dust. Sailor quickly ducked when he drove by and stayed down until the older redhead gave her the all clear, “He’s gone. That was perfect timing, huh?”

She didn’t reply or even wait for her to unbuckle her seatbelt, taking off at a sprint and bounding onto the porch in no time, furiously knocking against the door. “Hey, J, are you there? It’s Sailor.”

There was no reply and her heart dropped to her stomach. Alison joined her on the front step, her face blanching when her eyes landed on the blood stain on the corner of the door. One of her hands reached out to grab the handle while the other found Sailor’s smaller one and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on,” With no hesitation and the bravery Sailor wished she had, the eighteen year old pushed the door open and pulled them both into the dusky house. The younger redhead wrinkled her nose at the sight of beer cans and pill bottles littering a circle around the couch but she pressed on, calling his name as the girls moved room to room.

“Sail?” The sound of JJ’s pained voice coming from the room at the end of the hall made her heart skip a beat and she dropped Alison’s hand, running forward and bursting through the door in a rush, not even thinking about what state her friend might’ve been in. Feeling like she’d just been sucker punched right in the gut at the sight of him lying face down on the floor with a small puddle of blood forming under his mouth, she dropped to her knees beside him and delicately took his hand in both of hers, nearly crying in relief when his fingers gripped tight to her palm. Behind her, she heard Alison’s sharp intake of breath as she entered the room, darting over to kneel on JJ’s other side and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, and together they carefully helped him roll onto his back, then up into a sitting position with the older girl’s arm behind him as a brace.

Her jaw trembled as she tried and tried to say something, anything; her head was filled with so many questions -what happened, how could he do this, when did this start?- but the only thing she managed to ask was a simple, “Why?”

“It’s just what he does.” He replied with a shrug, wincing at the movement, “I’m sorry, Sail.”

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” She asked incredulously, then followed his finger as he pointed at a pile of jagged yellowish-brown pieces on the floor by his bed.

“He broke the shell you gave me.” He looked so upset, so distraught over the broken whelk and she felt her heart swell with waves of affection for her friend, who was more concerned about her broken gift than he was about himself.

“Hey,” She said softly, turning away from the mess to look him in the eye with a small smile, her hand reaching out on its own accord to brush a lock of fine blond hair away from a cut near his temple. “It’s just a shell, okay? I’ll find you another one.”

The sight of blood on his teeth when he returned her smile reminded her of the task at hand and she shook her head, wrapping her thin arm around his waist. “Let’s get you out of here. Think you can stand?” At his nod, both girls put one of his arms around their shoulders and slowly stood, shuffling out the door with all the grace and speed of an old man with two bad knees, but hey, they were moving and getting JJ out of that terrible place, so she’d go as slow as they needed to, even if her anxiety was getting worse and worse with each passing second they spent in the house.

After loading the kids onto the bench seat of the truck, Alison quickly drove them to the empty Flynn residence -Carmen and Ryan still working at the shop- and helped Sailor move JJ into the bathroom. “I’ll go grab you some towels and dry clothes, okay? I think some of your dad’s old stuff might fit him.” She said, watching as the young girl kneeled beside her friend and started untying his shoes.

The eleven year old nodded at her older friend and sent her a small smile. “Thanks, Ali.”

“No problem, kiddos.” With a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes she was gone, heading down the hall toward the laundry room.

Sailor reached over and turned the shower on as hot as possible. “Okay, um, take as long as you need, I guess. I’ll wait outside.” She jerked her thumb toward the hall but before she could even take a step, his hand darted out and grabbed her wrist.

“Stay.” It was more of a demand than a question and JJ seemed embarrassed to even be saying it, the uninjured parts of his face turning an endearing shade of pink. “Please?”

She just nodded and reached a leg out to gently kick the door shut, her mind racing. She stayed but what the hell should she do now, keep her back turned? Get in the shower with him? From the way he was fidgeting back and forth and avoiding her eyes, he was probably thinking the same thing.

“Oh, come on.” She finally said after a minute or two of decidedly not looking at each other and kicked off her sandals, darting forward on impulse to grab his hand and pull them both under the spray. The water uncomfortably soaked into their clothes and made their movements sluggish as they clumsily shuffled around -stepping on each other’s toes and mumbling identical apologies- before finding a position that was only a little bit awkward in the confined space, his arms on either side of her waist and bracing against the wall, her hands tentatively resting on his shoulders.

“This okay?” She asked, feeling her cheeks reddening from more than just the steam curling around them and frizzing her hair, and JJ nodded, swallowing thickly and blinking away a droplet of red-tinged condensation that slid down his forehead. Her hand, moving on its own accord, slowly reached for his face until her palm gently came to rest against his flushed cheek, the tip of her pointer finger just brushing a small cut that sliced through one eyebrow.

“How...” Sailor shook her head, taking a deep breath before finally asking the question that’d been on her mind since this whole thing started, “How long has this been happening?”

Once again he avoided her wide-eyed gaze, eyelids fluttering shut as he answered hesitantly, quietly, “I...I don’t remember a time when it didn’t.”

His answer chipped away the last brick in the dam and the floodgates broke. She flung herself into his chest, arms wrapping around his shoulders and fingers twisting in the sodden fabric of his shirt, sobbing into the warm skin of his neck. He froze in her embrace, whole body stock-still until something in him seemed to break too, and his own arms encircled her waist, bit by bit, pulling her close as he buried his face into her shoulder and two sixth graders slowly slumped to the shower floor in a tangled mess of limbs.

“J, why didn’t you say anything?”

His body trembled in her arms and she inhaled sharply at his reply of, “Because I’m not worth it.”

Pulling away from his neck to rest her forehead against his, she cupped his face in both hands and forced him to look her in the eyes, her voice quiet but adamant, insistent as she said, “Don’t you dare say that again, got it? You are worth it. So, so worth it.”

The look behind his red-rimmed, ocean blue gaze was made of pure, unadulterated disbelief and Sailor, at a loss, wracked her brain for something, anything she could do to make him see himself the way she did: loyal, adventurous, funny, and oh so brave, already a beloved, dear friend to her in the short time she’d known him. How could she help him realize he was so much more than his father’s abuse?

‘What can I do to make you believe me?’

An epiphany came to her like a bolt of lightning straight to the heart. It was more than a little crazy and the thought of actually doing it was lowkey terrifying but she’d seen it work beautifully for Alison and her girlfriend Peyton that one time and hell, she was so desperate to help her friend that she’d do just about anything. And so before her anxious mind could start to overthink she surged forward, both hands still holding his face in a gentle grip, and firmly pressed her lips to his.

JJ’s eyes were almost comically wide while he stared, frozen still at her touch, and her own eyes were just as huge as she held the kiss for a few seconds and then abruptly pulled back, her face slowly changing into a shade very similar to her hair.

“Y-you, I-” He stuttered, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as a deep pink flush started to color the tan skin of his neck. “Wh-why-”

“Because you are worthy, J. Promise me you won’t forget that.” Her words were as fierce as the hug she pulled him into, only letting the tension bleed out of her when she felt him gradually return her embrace and nod against her shoulder.

“I promise, Sail.”

“Good.”

And with that they fell silent, holding each other tight until the shower ran cold.

Sailor didn’t know it at the time but that hadn’t been just her first kiss but JJ’s too, as they never talked about it until two years later, during a game of truth or dare with the rest of the pogues. Neither actually told the truth, both giving a vague answer about a bet that seemed to placate their friends enough to let the matter drop, never to be brought up again.

The only kiss that happens today is the light brush of her lips against his forehead as she holds him close, even as the water slowly begins to lose its warmth. His embrace is tight, their limbs intertwined so fully that it’s hard to discern where one ends and the other begins and when he speaks, she has to strain to hear the words mumbled against her neck over the pounding spray of the shower.

“I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His confession cuts her deep. Hearing him admit something so utterly heartbreaking and vulnerable, coming from the side of him Sailor alone gets to see, ignites a fury that simmers under her skin and burns her from the inside out, thoughts turning venomous and, dare she say, downright homicidal. Fuck his dad. Fuck his dad and everything he’s ever done to hurt her best friend, both with and without fists.

“If I could get away with murder, I would.”

It’s true. For JJ, she’d do anything and everything to keep him safe without hesitation, up to and including maiming his dad so he could never touch him again (and if she happened to take it a little too far and straight up kill the bastard, she’d most definitely be fine with it.). He laughs, but it’s empty, hollow, and sorely lacking the joy, the carefreeness, the pure life that it normally radiates.

“You’re not the only one.”

Some time later, after the water raining down on them turns ice cold and their tears have dried, they reluctantly disentangle themselves from each other and towel off before making a quick detour to the kitchen to grab an ice pack for his ribs and have a meager dinner of sandwiches made with the last of her bread and a near empty jar of Nutella. He laughs, for real this time, when he reads the note she writes herself on the fridge future sailor, as much as you want to, you can’t live off just nutella and sheer spite, okay? please go shopping. love, past sailor <3 and grabs the marker out of her hand, adding +past jj and a little smiley face that makes her smile brightly.

They return to her room where they change, back to back, into dry clothes -one of her dresser drawers is full of his things she’s stolen acquired over the years- and, after throwing everything wet, including their discarded shirts and blanket retrieved from the bathroom, into the washing machine to be dealt with some other time, they lie on her bed side by side, shoulder to shoulder, wrapped up together in a spare throw stashed at the bottom of her closet. Binx slinks up from his spot at their feet and lazily drapes himself across their laps, purring like a motorboat when Sailor starts running her hand along his back.

“I almost sat on those,” JJ says, handing over her glasses, “and this.” He holds her forgotten book in his hands, casually flipping through the pages before turning it over and scanning the back cover.

“Have you read it before?”

He shrugs, a barely-there grimace briefly twisting his features as the motion jostles his sore ribs. “Started it, never finished.”

“Well,” She starts, slipping her glasses on and snatching the book out of his grasp, “how about we fix that? I’ll read, you pet the cat.”

Sailor’s voice is soft and steady as she starts to read aloud, a content smile on her face that’s echoed by the boy lying beside her when she settles against his side, head pillowed on the arm he curls around her shoulders without a thought. JJ’s the near perfect listener, only snickering once or twice at her total butchering of some of the more difficult Greek names (how come she can say Hephaestus just fine but gets tripped up on Dionysus?) but otherwise hanging off her every word and the relaxed ease with which he runs his hand through the ends of her damp hair fills her with a warmth, a happiness that she can’t describe but never wants to stop.

Hidden away from the rest of the world, curled up together on her bed, they forget the day’s past horrors and replace them with bright hopes for the future, exchanging comforting touches, deliberate yet played off as unintentional, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp -a caress of knuckles here, a brush of a palm there- as she reads into the night, until the cloudy sky darkens to black and they’re both fighting off the languid pull of sleep.

“I think that’s enough for today.” He plucks the book from her hands without waiting for a response and marks their place with a gas station receipt she was using as a makeshift placeholder, and setting it on the beside drawer.

“It’s your turn to read tomorrow,” He takes her glasses off with gentle fingers as she speaks into what little space still exists between them (that’s not otherwise occupied by Binx), smiling at the slow graze of his thumb along her cheek and nestles further against his side. “I’m done botching the names of deities for a while.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Damn it, Sailor kind of hates it when he says that cause it makes her feel things that she’s not quite ready to think about yet. Thankfully, her blush is swallowed by the darkness as he turns off the light and settles down beside her, arm slung low over her waist; her hand carefully brushes against his bruised ribs over the old shirt he wears, ice pack long ago thawed and thrown somewhere onto the hardwood floor.

“How do these feel? Better?”

She feels JJ nod, his chin brushing the top of her head. “Much.” There’s a pause, long enough that she starts to feel like she’s about to nod off, then he whispers, “Thank you, Sail. I know I don’t say it enough.”

She takes a deep breath, fingers stilling on his side, “Because you don’t need to, J. Remember what I said earlier, in the bathroom?”

He nods again but doesn’t reply, instead drawing circles on the small of her back, so she takes it as a cue to continue, “I care about you, okay? You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just...doing what feels right.”

After a beat, the arm she’s using as a pillow curls and pulls her tighter against him as he says quietly, almost shyly, “I care about you, too.”

The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle without either teenager noticing and the gentle pitter-patter against the roof casts a somnolent spell into the air, dazed and dreamy. It wraps around the pair, not unlike the way they wrap around each other, and slowly, easily, safely, they drift off as one.

let me know what you think!

taglist ❤: @jiaraendgame @hmsjiara @heavensalreadyheres @obxsummer @maysbanks @alexa-playafricabytoto @sunflowerbecca @obxlife @obx-adventures @sexualparkour @mortifiedposts @coltonparayyko @miawantsapuppy @jjmaybanky

74 notes · View notes

deputy-ajay-ghale · 4 years

Note

hello! i’m jordan! i’ve seen you do a few asks of this kind having to do with abimel, so i thought i’d jump in. as a writer, i’m always interested to see other peoples’ characterizations of ships and characters that i like, and yours are pretty accurate to both what i’ve seen on the show and the stupid little drabbles i think up in my spare time. somehow, abigael liking country music makes perfect sense to me, and if i remember correctly you were the one who first proposed film-buff abigael, which is possibly my favorite thing ever. i am forever in your debt.

now, i wanted to ask, in the broadest sense and in terms of mel and abigael, what pops into your head when i say the word “nicknames”?

please go on for as long as you feel is necessary because i want to hear every word. :)

Yo! Haha, I love how I've made a name of being a go-to person in the fandom over Abigael/AbiMel content.

And yes, that be me making Abigael love country music and being the opposite of Mel when it comes to movies.

I'm going to take a wild guess and say you want me to approach this from a shipping perspective.

So for Mel by Abigael, I just made up a whole damn episode. The title references Snow White (but make it witchy) and the Charmed Ones and Associates need to poison a magical being, so Abigael and Macy need to make the poison together bc it’s a two person job. Then after making the poison and deciding they’ll poison the being using food, Abigael dips an apple into the poison to test it out and goes “you’re the poison apple of my eye” before she takes a overly sensual bite of the apple which makes Mel freak out bc she wasn’t there for Abigael telling Hacy she has a higher durability than they do. She winks and walks off to go piss off Macy. She's in agony for three days, but it was totally worth it for the Drama.

I’d also like to suggest that upon getting together and finding out that Ray calls Mel torito that Abigael has 100% made a sex joke in front of the Charmed Ones (and Parker because Abigael doesn't let Parker escape an encounter with his half sister without messing with him) about Mel being the "torito in a china shop", with everyone realizing the aforementioned china shop isn't a metaphorical shop of porcelain. Everyone is traumatized, God is dead, no work gets done because it's a surprise and not a surprise that Mel tops. They're both verse. At least she didn’t say it in front of Ray.

Abigael has called Mel “half sized Hocus Pocus”, I don’t know the context, I just know that Mel is the Shortest Vera and Abigael is taller by four inches, not including stilletos.

Then nicknames for Abigael by Mel, as a non-WHYte woman, I love pointing out my white friends and relatives are white. It amuses us all. I feel like when Abigael’s being uncharacteristically soft or sweet, Mel would call her Marshmallow bc she’s mushy and white.

Also if Mel is talking about Abigael behind her back (not in like a hella mean way, but like the way you'd call a friend a little shit), she has referred to Abigael as tramposa bc it means trickster and that's the kind of name you'd give someone who's deceitful. Fitting, right?

Low key, thinking about The Worst Witch and how Mildred is the only witch who doesn’t have a black cat bc she has Tabby the tabby cat, so like, episode where Abigael gets turned into a cat… Abby the Tabby is automatically what comes out of Mel’s mouth when talking to this angry feline.

12 notes · View notes

silentglassbreak · 5 years

Note

I saw your prompts are open and I had to jump in! I love your writings for our boys, esp the fluff it makes me so soft when they’re soft💚 maybe something where they have kids and go SUPER HARD for Halloween and have really intricate family costumes that they work on, like all year and it’s just fluffy and everyone loves each other and is happy 🥺 you’re such a wonderful writer!! Thank you!!

Before we begin, I’d like to say a few things:

Firstly, thank you for requesting this. I had no idea how badly I needed to write this. It made my heart so happy to create this, and I sincerely hope it doesn’t disappoint. 🖤

Secondly, I know this one kind of goes off on some tangents, but I did my best to keep it on prompt as well as I could, but there was so much I needed to include, and so much I didn’t.

Third, let me know what we think of Riley? I kind of really loved writing her into a story with Billy and Steve, and am thinking of exploring her character more in the future. Feedback, please?

Fourth(isn’t this getting ridiculous?), I was chopping down a tree in my front yard when I got this, and literally s t o p p e d to start it. I did have to go back and finish the job, and it’s really okay, the tree was dead, but I’ve been working on this most of the night, and that’s how excited I was for this prompt.

Fifth(seriously, get on with it), I chose Hocus Pocus 150% for a real fucking reason. That movie is everything to me, and -fun fact- I’m actually named after a character in that movie! 😉 (No, my name is not Winifred)

Last(omg, rly?), if you would like a song rec for the story, I highly recommend Crystal by Stevie Nicks. It’s where I got the title, and honestly, it’s kind of the unofficial theme I’ve assigned to the Harringrove ship as a whole. If you’ve seen the movie Practical Magic, you’ll recognize it.

Now, shall we begin?

Like The Love That Had Finally Found Me

October 29, 1993 - Hawkins, IN

“Steve, you’re going to rip the fabric!” Nancy was nearly screaming at him from across the kitchen, coffee in one hand, spoon stirring in the other. “Do you want milk or half and half?” He was only somewhat listening to her by now, but he answered around the pins in his mouth, fingers working to sew the orange and yellow fringe onto the black velvet scarf.

“Uhm…” He finally tore his eyes away and looked up at the brunette girl standing in his kitchen. “Milk, please.” She nodded and poured the hot coffee into the rainbow mug that read ‘#1 Dad’. She wasn’t sure if Riley had picked it out for Steve or Billy, but either way, it made her smile to herself.

“You’re almost done. It’s going to look great,” she set the steaming cup down in front of him at the kitchen table. “unless you oversew and tear a hole in it.” Her hand came to gently rest on his. Her clear blue eyes shining up at him, he finally faltered, snipping the thread with his scissors and setting down the scarf.

He breathed a sigh that wore as tired as he felt. The last three and a half months had been absolute mayhem for him and Billy, causing the entire end of summer and beginning of fall to feel like a never ending shift. He regretted nothing.

Back in July, when Billy took their daughter to see Hocus Pocus for their regular Sunday Dad-Riley Movie Night, she came home starry eyed and as enthusiastic as a firework.

‘Daddy, that was the best movie ever! You have to come with Dad and I, to see it again next weekend! I want to be Dani Dennison for Halloween! And you can be Max, and Dad can be Billy the Zombie! That’s already his name. Did you know I’m the same age as Dani? She’s eight too! Can we get a black cat to be Binx? Please, Daddy, pleeeeease?!’

From that moment forward, Hocus Pocus had become Steve’s life. Billy was working full-time at the auto shop, so Steve had more free time to concentrate on the task at hand. And concentrate, oh he fucking did.

Steve Harrington’s life had become so much more than he had ever imagined. Eight years may be a long time to some, but for him, it was the fastest moving period of time he had ever lived for. One year after the Starcourt ‘burning’, Billy had officially recovered from his near-fatal injuries, and spontaneously confessed his feelings to Steve. It was an angry, awkward, embarrassing time for them, that led to almost a month of denial and avoidance from both Steve and Billy. In that three-week-five-day period, Billy had grown to understand that Steve needed time, and had not actually rejected him. It was a process, that Billy later decided was worth the wait.

The following six months led to the ultimate change, which was Billy finally leaving Neil Hargrove’s house and moving in with Chief Hopper as his ‘adopted’ son. Billy was almost nineteen, so they didn’t bother with the paperwork, but Hopper did bother to get to know Billy, work to understand him, and finally comfort him enough to make him feel at home.

Billy then found himself with two younger sisters, and when Hopper and Joyce married three months later, a younger brother, and a brother his own age. Steve was grateful he got to witness the change in Billy; the growth. He found himself falling for Billy harder every day, resistance dissolving a little each time he saw his toothy, devious grin.

Two years after the disaster, Steve confessed his feelings to Billy, all fast-talking and nerves frayed. Told him that he had never felt this way for anyone, let alone a boy. Told him he had been scared and weak and apologized about three hundred times for making him wait. Billy forgave him with a kiss, an embrace, and a promise that things would be different.

Billy kept his promise.

Six months later, Steve experienced tragedy in the form of his younger brother, Troy Harrington, and his wife, Angela, being fatally injured in a car accident. The loss was trying on Steve, Billy having to hold him too many nights while he sobbed and shook, asking him questions he just could answer like why? And how? And who the fuck let this happen? It took time, it took work, and it took strength to pull out of the dark place Steve had crawled into, but he managed.

Two months later, Steve was approached by Marlena Andowski, Social Services Case Worker handling case number 22496A, Riley Harrington. Riley was two years and seven months old when her parents passed, leaving her an orphan and sleeping at her Uncle’s Steve’s every night. Marlena had asked Steve if he would consider adopting Riley, and Steve said yes with no hesitation, signing paperwork, showing paystubs and rent receipts, taking drug tests, and toddler-proofing his small apartment for the long haul ahead.

It took about one day for Billy to fall head over heels in love with Riley, and only seven months for her to call him Daddy for the first time. Billy didn’t know how to feel at first, until her little hands tugged on his shirt and pointed to the pink stuffed frog at the grocery store, repeating herself, ‘Please, Daddy! Can I get the Frog?’ Steve knew when they walked in the door, stuffed toy clutched in tiny arms, glittery red nail polish on Billy’s fingers, that they were a family.

And then, almost five years later, Steve found himself sitting in the kitchen of the home Billy and him purchased, less than forty-eight hours before Halloween, sewing the last of his daughter’s costume together so that everything was just right.

Steve drank from his coffee mug hungrily, with still so much to do and a very long night ahead, when Riley came barreling into the living room, Nancy and Jonathan’s daughter Madison, in tow.

“Daddy?” Steve looked at her, eyes tired.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Her smile was sweet, beaming bright as the sun.

“Can Maddie sleep over? We want to watch Jurassic Park, she hasn’t seen it yet.” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Did Maddie ask her mother if that’s okay?” He eyed the small, light-brown haired girl standing behind Riley, who was turned toward Nancy.

“Mama, can I-“ Nancy put up a hand to stop her.

“Do you have homework this weekend?” Both girls shook their heads in unison. She smirked and looked to Steve. “It’s fine with me if it is with you.” He turned his gaze back to his own little girl, smiling now.

“Okay, Jurassic Park is in mine and your Dad’s room, be careful taking it out of the VCR.” The girls squealed and made a dash for the hallway when Steve called out. “Riles!” She turned her head to him, stopped in her tracks. “Lights out at eleven!” She grinned wide.

“Midnight?” He narrowed his stare and pursed his lips.

“Eleven-thirty, final offer.” She nodded her head and she was gone.

Billy opened the door with a loud thump. He really needed to fix the latch. Steve watched from the couch where he had The X-Files reruns playing, taking a break from his Halloween-related chores. Steve still had to finish cleaning the house, put up the decorations, and make the food for the party they were throwing in two days’ time, all while working mornings at Family Video; the back office work that came with owning a business. He did most of it from home, but he had to go in sometimes, if only to remind the teenagers he hired that they can’t make out in the workplace.

“Hey babe.” Billy’s voice was gruff, filled with exhaustion. Steve smiled at him, eyes watching Billy toe off his boots and pull his jacket off, hanging it on the rack near the door. “How’d the day go?” Keys and wallet dropped on the hall table, Billy made his way over to the kitchen.

“As to be expected.” Binx was purring softly in his lap, Steve’s hand idly stroking sleek, black fur. “Riley got her math test back, aced it, of course.” Billy snorted while he washed the grease from his hands.

“She better have. We studied for weeks for that damn test.” Steve turned the volume down on the television and picked up the cat laying in his lap, gently placing him aside on the cushions. He padded through the dining room and into the kitchen, moving for the fridge to grab a beer. He took a long pull and sighed on the exhale while setting another down on the counter next to Billy.

“We had spaghetti for dinner because it’s Friday.” Riley always wanted pasta on Fridays. Billy dried his hands on a dish towel before grabbing his beer. Steve noted his hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “And I got her costume finished.” The last words came out triumphantly.

Billy nodded his head. “Right on. I’m excited to see it.” His gray t-shirt was oil-stained and dirty. The rugged look made Steve want to bounce up and down a little. He took another drink from his bottle.

“Mm, and Maddie’s sleeping over.” Billy looked at Steve, a smirk on his face. His feet moved him toward Steve until his face was close enough to touch.

“Ah, I see.” He set his beer down on the island, hands coming to run up and down Steve’s arms. “So, we won’t be seeing much of her tonight, then?” His eyes were dark.

It had been weeks since they had enough time alone to get their hands on each other, and Steve was so hungry. The smallest things were turning him on about Billy, to a point where he couldn’t watch him lick an ice cream cone without excusing himself. It was complete mania, and the thought of having him alone made Steve’s breathing cut short.

“I guess so.” His voice was low, eyes glancing over to the clock on the stove. Nine-thirty. He had two and a half hours before the girls had to be asleep. If they quietly excused themselves, maybe, just maybe, they could…

“Dad!” Their bodies pulled apart instantly, Riley’s voice filling their heads and clearing the thoughts they were both falling into.

“Hey, baby!” Billy stepped around Steve, arms opening for Riley to plunge into. He wrapped them around her in a bear-hug, bending down to meet her small frame. “How’s my girl?”

“Good! I got an A on my test!” He beamed at her, all teeth and pride.

“I heard! Great job, man!” He high-fived her. The moment made Steve’s heart tear in just a few places. Billy’s eyes were fixed on their daughter, chocolate brown hair falling down her back, pale skin, enormous brown eyes that always seemed to sparkle, purple striped pajamas and pink slippers.

“Hi Uncle Billy!” Maddie stood next to Riley, arms opened for a hug.

“Hey, kid, how you doin’?” He wrapped her in a hug as well, although, not as tight and protective. Those hugs were only for Riley.

“Great! I lost my last baby tooth yesterday!” She smiled as big as she could, showing a gap on the bottom row of her teeth. Billy leaned back, his face feigning something like disbelief.

“Nice! Did you put it under your pillow?” Her jaw dropped, eyes going wide.

“I FORGOT!” Riley was appalled as well, grabbing Madison’s hand.

“C’mon, you can put it under mine! The tooth fairy comes to my house too. Let’s go!” And they were running toward her room, Riley turning back to them for only a second. “Goodnight Dad! Goodnight Daddy! Love you!” Billy smiled after her.

“Love you too!” He echoed. Steve walked toward the hallway.

“Remember, you have to be asleep for the tooth fairy to come!” Steve called toward her door. When he saw it shut, he shrugged. “Well, Nancy’s going to owe me five bucks tomorrow.”

Midnight finally came, and Steve untangled himself from where he laid next to Billy on the couch. Steve pressed a kiss to the back of his hand and looked up into his eyes.

“I’m going to go check on the girls.” He stood and watched as Billy stretched out, shirt coming up to expose his stomach, a thin trail of hair leading down to his waistband. Steve could feel his mouth water before he tore himself away, making for the white door with the big green R painted on it. He pushed into the room and chuckled silently to himself when he saw the girls, arms everywhere and hair splayed over the pillows, Binx snoozing softly next to Riley’s head. He reached under Madison’s pillow, slipping the tooth out and sliding a five-dollar bill in its place. He snuck out of the room, leaving the door cracked just enough to allow Binx out if needed, and headed to the kitchen to put the tooth in a plastic bag.

While he was sneaking the baggie into his backpack sitting on the dining room table, he felt arms wrap around his middle. Billy’s voice was air rushing past his ear, making goosebumps rise on the back of his neck and a fire light in his belly.

“The girls asleep?” Steve smirked and turned his body toward Billy, lips coming to rest against his jawline.

“Like the dead.” Billy hummed in appreciation of the soft kisses Steve was leaving near his windpipe, hands reaching down to grab his ass, lifting him up, onto the wooden table. His face bent down, mouth finding Steve’s, hot and desperate. Steve’s arms were reaching the blonde hair, now falling loose over his shoulders. Billy’s hands were making work at the hem of Steve’s shirt, lifting it up over his head.

A hand came down to Billy’s chest, firmly stopping him from pulling at the waistband of Steve’s sweats.

“Let’s not do this here.” Billy nodded, panting. His fingers trailed down Steve’s chest, nails dragging against hot, needy skin.

“I need a shower.” Steve’s eyes were falling closed, the feeling of Billy’s hands making him crumble slowly. “Want to wash my hair?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

October 30, 1993 - Hawkins, IN

“Daddy, do you know where my Pacers sweater is?” Steve was standing at the stove, eggs sizzling in the pan, coffee brewing in the pot next to him. He was still only kind of awake, but Riley was frantically digging through the laundry basket on the table, bright-eyed and bushy tailed.

“I’m not sure, Riles. Did you check your closet?” He said around a yawn.

“And my drawers. It’s not here!”

“Maybe you left it in your Dad’s car?” She snapped and pointed at Steve.

“I did!” And she was running for the door. Always on the go, that one.

Steve heard the heavy footfall in the hallway that signaled Billy was awake. He mixed the cup of coffee quickly and held it out to his side, not even glancing when Billy slipped it out of his hand.

“Morning, sunshine.” Billy grunted to Steve in response, drinking the coffee before it was cool enough, not caring all the same. “How many eggs you want?”

“Three.” Steve looked at him then, waking a little more, only to admire him. Billy had no shirt on, sweats hanging low around his waist. His curls were everywhere, eyes barely open.

Riley strode toward them then, navy blue hoodie in hand, reaching for Billy.

“Here’s your keys dad.” She dropped them in his hand. Billy raised an eyebrow at Steve, who shrugged in response. “I’ll see you guys later!” Billy put a hand out in front of her.

“Where’s the fire, girl?” She wore a frustrated grimace.

“Nancy is here to pick up me and Maddie, I got to go!” She stood on her tiptoes and Billy bent his head down for her to place a small kiss on his cheek, then jogging over to Steve to do the same. “Bye, Daddy.”

When the front door shut, Billy looked to Steve.

“Where is our daughter going at nine in the morning on a Saturday?” Steve chuckled, plating the eggs.

“They’re going to El and Mike’s to help set up for the shower.” Billy scoffed as he moved over to the table.

“Who has a baby shower the day before Halloween?” He began devouring his eggs once Steve placed them in front of him. Steve paced himself slower, savoring the hot coffee in his hands.

“If they wait any longer they may not be able to have one before she pops.” Billy rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his coffee.

“Are we expected to attend?” His voice sounded of disdain. As domesticated as Billy was, baby showers weren’t really his forte.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” The blonde leaned against the kitchen counter, eyebrows wiggling at Steve.

“I’ve got you alone all day?” Steve laughed, walking over to the coffee pot to get another mug full.

“Jesus, didn’t you get enough of me last night?” Billy pressed his bare chest to Steve’s back, moving hair from his face, startling him.

“Never enough of you, pretty boy.”

Steve was feeling groggy, his day finally over, legs heavy as lead when he walked through the front door. He dropped his keys next to Billy’s, eyes scanning the living room for anyone. All he found was Binx, sitting on the back of the couch, pink tongue licking his paw.

“Hey buddy.” Steve reached over and picked up the cat, looking down into his yellow eyes. “Where is everyone?”

The house was dark, still as stone. The Halloween decorations him and Billy set up earlier in the day loomed, giving it an eerie atmosphere. Steve brushed it off and headed for the hallway, Binx in his arms. As he approached his bedroom, he heard the faint sounds of the television playing.

When he walked in, he could have dropped to his knees, smile spreading across his face. Riley and Billy laid on the bed, curled up together, sleeping soundly with small snores escaping. Billy’s arms were locked firmly around the small girl who had her hands tangled in his shirt, gripping it tightly. The blankets were haphazardly thrown around them, making a warm nest of quilt and pillows. The end of The Addams Family was playing on the television, credits starting to roll.

Steve heard a small meow from his hands, and he deposited Binx on the foot of the bed. He curled up, kneading the sheet gently with his claws by Billy’s feet.

After a few minutes to change, brush his teeth, and rinse the very long day off of his face, Steve crawled into bed next to them. He threw an arm over Riley, eliciting a louder snore out of Billy, feeling his breath on his own face. He tucked his daughter’s head under his chin, and shut his eyes.

Finding sleep wasn’t always easy for Steve, so he spent a lot of nights laying in bed searching for it, tossing and turning in the process.

But not tonight. Tonight, Steve faded into his dreams quickly to the smell of bubblegum shampoo and cherry Coke.

October 31, 1993 - Hawkins, IN

The house was buzzing with excitement, kids running around, people mingling in various rooms. Steve was looking for the extra plastic cups he bought from Melvald’s yesterday and where the fuck did he put them? The irritation was swelling, the people around him making his anxiety kick up. He huffed out a breath.

“You okay?” He turned to see Robin, prom dress on, red paint covering most of her body. He nodded his head and went back to his task, opening cabinets and drawers.

“Yeah, I just,” He slammed another cupboard, scratching his head under his sunglasses in frustration. “I can’t find the goddamn cups!” Robin took a step toward him, hand falling on his shoulder.

“Hey, take a breath.” He obeyed, finally taking a moment to appreciate her costume. He raised a brow.

“Carrie?” She smiled, putting her arms out and spinning slowly for full-effect.

“You like?” He nodded his head, snorting a laugh. “And who are you?” He looked down at his costume, which was easy to put together, given he dressed nearly the same way in high school.

“Max Dennison from Hocus Pocus.” She nodded in realization.

“And Riley is Dani?” He pointed at her.

“Bingo. Made the costume myself”

“Don’t they sell that costume at the store?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but Riley said it was all wrong.”

She smiled and looked to the living room where Billy was standing, drink in hand while talking to Joyce, pieces of fake, rotting flesh on his gray painted face, dark, mussed up wig on his head. She raised an eyebrow.

“And Billy is…” She trailed off.

“Billy the Zombie.” Steve said matter-of-factly. She chuckled and looked back at him.

“Love it.” Her eyes glanced to Gina, her girlfriend of three years now, fondness in her eyes. “You know, we did pretty good, Harrington. After everything that happened at Starcourt, I really wasn’t sure, but,” She looked back at him. “I’m proud of us.” He beamed, reaching an arm around her shoulders.

“Me too, Robs.”

“Riley! Riley! Riley!” Everyone in the house was chanting, Nancy avidly staring at her wristwatch.

“Ten more seconds!”

“C’mon Riles! You got this!” Billy was cheering from the side of the bucket where Riley’s head was submerged, pulling apples out with her teeth and hoisting them into the bowl next to it. Steve counted eight so far, and for only having one minute, he was thoroughly impressed.

“Time!” Nancy called out and Riley’s head popped up, one last apple in her mouth, and the house roared in excitement. Steve grabbed her by the shoulders.

“You did it! You beat Hopper!” Jim was standing behind him, towel around his neck and fake disappointment on his face.

“She must have cheated.” Billy clapped him on the shoulder and laughed.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Dad. It’s not easy, beating an eight year old at bobbing for apples.”

Steve laughed and helped Riley dry her face. Her grin was 1000 watts of sugar, and her hair was dripping onto her dress.

“Daddy, did I do a good job?” He rubbed her hair between the soft towel.

“You were great, baby. I’m so proud!” She lunged at him, arms wrapping his neck in a grip that would strangle him if she wasn’t so small. Her voice was quiet in his ear.

“Thank you so much, Daddy. This is the best Halloween ever.” He squeezed her, shutting his eyes and feeling the lump forming in his throat. He pulled her back and looked at her, face bright and eyes lit with everything he never knew he needed in his life.

“Thank you, Riles. For everything.”

#harringrove #prompt #fic request #fic prompts #steveharrington #billyhargrove #the fluffiest of fluff #strangerthings

47 notes · View notes

youngcroissantturkeyworribler · 5 years

Text

Happy Birthday Kitty

Look at HER! She is now 3 years old! I love my dark strange daughter.

Story: My sister found this little skinny black kitten on the curb heading home and decided to take her in and get her back to health. Apartments where being inspected and they were a no pets zone so she brings the little kitten over to our parent's home. "Just for a week", that statement is over 3 years old now.

We couldn't decide when we got Binxy, whether it was October 3rd or October 5th so we decide on October 7th; I say it's the third. Yes, I named her after Binx the cat, then later person, from Hocus Pocus. My sassy plus size model still sleeps with me in bed, greets me every morning, and sees me as mom. I love her as much as I did when she was a tiny starving kitten.

Remember there are no bad angles, just bad camera shots.

#cat #cat family #cats #black cats #cats of tumblr #feline

3 notes · View notes

hisband · 5 years

Text

name : carling.

nickname/s : you magnificent bitch / That Bitch / That One Murdoc Roleplayer.

height : 5′7.

nationality : canadian.

favourite fruit : strawberries, pineapple, peach, kiwi, raspberries, blackberries, cantaloupe, coconut, lemon, pomegranate.

favourite season : probably autumn.

favourite scents : i really like flowery scents, like sweet pea or lavender. i find them soothing.

favourite animals : sphynx cats, bats, pigs, frogs, most birds, most dogs, raccoons, possums, alligators, sharks.

tea, coffee, hot cocoa : herbal tea, but i do love hot chocolate when i’m craving something sweet... which is often.

average hours of sleep : 7 - 8.

when my blog was created : november 2nd, 2017.

random fact : i can’t stop listening to this stupid fucking song and i fully acknowledge it’s stupid but it’s So Catchy and i don’t understand why i didn’t hear it everywhere when it first came out. why am i only discovering it now. why did it take me so long to find it. why don’t more people acknowledge girls aloud as a successful pop band when they put out tons of fun songs. in this essay i will

favourite food : fettuccine alfredo, seafood ( especially shrimp ), potatoes ( especially mashed with gravy, baked with cheese sauce & bacon bits, or hash browns ), mozzarella sticks, hot fudge sundaes, brownies, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, really crispy fish and chips, medium steak, stuffed mushrooms, deep-fried mars bars, chocolate-covered strawberries.

favourite t.v. shows : i don’t watch a lot of tv ( not because i dislike it, but because it’s difficult for something to hold my attention that long unless i’m really invested ) and when i do, it’s usually to revisit stuff i’ve been into for a long time, like digimon tamers or the kirby anime. shows that have managed to capture my heart over more recent years include orange is the new black, buffy the vampire slayer, the beetlejuice cartoon, gargoyles, and friends. i’m a super casual fan of stranger things, gravity falls and brooklyn 99, but i’m not great at keeping up to date with them. i used to love my little pony and rick & morty, but kind of fell off those bandwagons for various reasons.

favourite movie : basket case 1 & 2, the devil’s rejects, jeepers creepers 1 & 2, the fly ’86, ginger snaps, the leprechaun series, beetlejuice, gremlins, hocus pocus, monsters inc, casper, disney’s hercules, the great mouse detective, killer klowns from outerspace, the hills have eyes ’06, watchmen... to name a very small handful.

favourite vine : WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!!!

sexuality : lesbian!!! i love girls & fem-aligned people.

pronouns : she / her.

favourite book series : i used to read avidly and unfortunately i don’t really do that anymore - at least, not right now. i love stephen king’s work and grew up with r.l. stine’s goosebumps series. i was really into harry potter & the hunger games in my younger years and still like them, too. s.e. hinton’s ‘the outsiders’ also holds an extremely special place in my heart; i don’t think i’ve been the same since i read that book. and yes, i was a warrior cats kid, don’t @ me.

favourite video game/s : the wolf among us, mass effect, mortal kombat, the walking dead, telltale batman, spiderman 2018.

favorite band/s : gorillaz ( of course!! ), white zombie, marianas trench, shinedown, fleetwood mac, die mannequin, sleigh bells, fall out boy, mother mother, the prodigy, icon for hire, duran duran, depeche mode, glass animals, royal blood, wham!, dorothy, creedence clearwater revival, lynyrd skynyrd, electric light orchestra, hall & oates, garbage, awolnation, ms mr... again, just to name a fraction of what i’m into.

favourite subject : H O R R O R . . . i don’t think there’s any genre on earth that gets me more giddy than horror.

guys or girls : in terms of romance & dating? absolutely girls. in terms of friends? both.

last time I cried : tonight because i’m a tender b*tch

what I should be doing : looking for a job, working on my latest article, catching up on horror films i haven’t seen yet, writing up verses, writing up character bio stuff, working on threads, learning how to cook. i’ll get to all these things eventually, i swear.

favourite fandoms : oh man i don’t touch fandoms with a fifty foot pole. especially not this fandom. no thanks. i find the character(s) i like and someone to talk about them with and after that, i’m perfectly content.

TAGGED BY : @clawedevil !! TAGGING : steal it and say i tagged you !!

#⇩ ▬ sᴜɴsʜɪɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ʙᴀɢ ( ooc. )

8 notes · View notes

fanfic-scribbles · 7 years

Text

12. Candy

Words: 1581

Warnings: Canon hand-wavium, awkward!reader, and I should probably start putting warnings in for language. Everyone has a potty mouth.

You enter the bunker, exhausted but happy. You’ve stopped freezing and you’re feeling mostly normal, just tired. You’ve managed to get up enough energy to run to the store (just a small run for essentials) and now you’re back, successful, tired, and–

You blink and wonder if you’ve stepped into the wrong place. Just for a second, because the bunker is very distinctive, but right now it very distinctively looks like Halloweentown. Or a set piece from “Hocus Pocus”. Fake spider webs, black cats, pumpkins, skulls, and various other items and art combine to make the library…festive.

“Hey, I’m back! Did you already go…on…” Sam trails off as he comes to stand next to you. “Uh…did you…?”

You look up at him, wondering if he’s serious. “Dude. I could barely lift a gallon of milk at the store. Do you really think I can manage to hang a gothic chandelier and saddle it with a plastic Miley skeleton?”

“Good point,” Sam says.

“I called him Jerry, but we could rename him ‘Milo’,” Gabriel says cheerfully, now sitting next to the skeleton on the new chandelier. He puts an arm around his new friend. “He came in like a wrecking ball,” Gabriel says ‘sadly’. “That’s pretty fatal for humans.”

“Shouldn’t he be a pile of broken bones and dust, then?” you ask.

“I’m not exactly going to realism here,” Gabriel says and knocks on the plastic. “I figure it’d be a tough sell with this crowd.”

“You’re probably right on that.” You look back at Sam. “And, uh, about that milk…it’s still in my car, with a few cartons of juice. Do you mind…?”

“Yeah, I’ll get ‘em.” He smirks at you. “You want me to also grab that very heavy-looking bag you’re holding?”

You scowl and swing the “very heavy” bag of chips and pretzels right into his face. He takes the hit and stumbles away, laughing, right past Dean who walks in saying, “Hey, hey! Don’t smash the ch–” before he realizes what he’s seeing, stops, and stares. “What the fuck?”

“Hi Deanie!” Gabriel lies across the chandelier, very “Titanic”-esque. “How do you like it?”

“Change it back,” Dean says immediately.

“But then it won't look nice for the Halloween party!”

“The wh–” Dean almost audibly reboots. “We’re not having a Halloween party.”

“Sure we are! Don’t worry; it’s just a little shindig. Charlie and I already have it planned out,” Gabriel says. “You three, me, Cas, Kevin and Mama, Charlie, Garth…”

“You and Charlie planned–” Dean, fuming, takes his phone out and storms down the hall. You watch him go, feeling a little bad for Charlie, but if anyone has a shot of sweet-talking Dean into this, it’s her.

You turn back and jump a bit at Gabriel’s sudden closeness. “Sorry,” he says unapologetically and holds up a bowl full of candy. “Want some?”

You eye the bowl seemingly filled entirely with your favorites and reach to grab one, but Gabriel yanks it away. “How about…you get two pieces of candy for every one question of mine you answer. Sounds like a deal, right?”

‘Sounds like’ is a lot different from ‘is a’ and you squint at Gabriel because he might be an angel at the base but he’ll always be a trickster through and through. “Come on, just a few questions?” He shakes the bowl. “Look at all the good stuff I got…”

You shouldn’t, but you do, and oh, you haven’t had those since you were a kid, where did he–

“Ah ah!” Gabriel moves the bowl away from your wandering hand. “Question and answer time.”

“Okay,” you say and start looking for your first two.

“Question one: what happened when Dean and I left last night?”

“I wanted to go right to bed so Cas took me there, laid down with me, and I knocked out almost right away,” you say and snag your picks.

“Way to take the romance out of it,” Gabriel grumbles.

“Not much romance to be had when I feel like shit,” you point out.

“Well, it’s all about the details anyway,” Gabriel says. He grins. “He got in bed with you?”

“Yes.” You duck to hide a smile. “And uh…he took his shirt off before, too. Y’know, ‘cause…”

“Body heat!” Gabriel says in awe and practically cackles. “I love my overly literal baby brother!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumble and take your prizes.

“You do too,” Gabriel says. He looks right at you. “Our little Castiel, cuddled up to you, shirtless? How did that feel?”

“Honestly, it was more, um…” You clear your throat. “…When he was undressing. When he got into bed, though, he was so nice and warm and I couldn’t really give a shit about anything else.”

“Wow. You really were sick yesterday, weren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, but really, sick or not–” Gabriel snaps and the bowl disappears. “–Did you try to make a move? Think about making a move?”

You make a pleased noise, unbidden. “That’s two questions.”

“Better make the answer worth it then,” he says in warning.

You roll your eyes but he’ll find out about it anyways. “Sort of– sort of both?” You roll your shoulders. “It felt like a good…moment. So I was going to. I tried. But I got, like, half a sentence into it and then– and then I fell asleep.”

“Seriously?”

It’s embarrassing but you have to stifle a laugh. “Yeah.”

Gabriel snorts, slowly works into laughter, and then you both are laughing at it. You kind of have to, because Gabriel wheezes, “who falls asleep during their own love confession?!” and you kind of have to agree. When you’re both calm, and you’re fishing for your candy, Gabriel says, “Charlie’s gonna love that.”

You stop and blink. “You told Ch–” You glare at him. “How many people did you tell?”

“Weeeeelllllll,” he drawls. And holds up a hand. Oh no. “Sam, Dean, Charlie…” he counts. “Kevin and Linda.”

“Gabriel!”

“Don’t worry, they’re all sworn to secrecy,” Gabriel grins and you realize he’s more of a devil than his damn brother. “Besides, Kevin is still all ‘woe is the prophet me,’ and Linda just said how obvious it was. Charlie ships it hardcore, bee tee dubs.”

“Of course she does,” you mutter and take back anything nice you thought about her today. You hope Dean is still reaming her about the party.

Oh shit…the party…

You make a private amendment to your self-made deal: you have to tell Cas before the party because otherwise Charlie is going to ‘help’ and the only thing worse than Charlie and Gabriel ‘helping’ separately is Charlie and Gabriel ‘helping’ in tandem.

Gabriel is relaxing and eating a piece of candy of his own, oblivious to the storm in your head. “You know you don’t have to wait for some big moment to make a dramatic reveal, right? Why not try it…indirectly?”

You have to reset your brain to follow along with the topic. “What do you mean?”

“I mean telenovelas are entertaining and all, but you don’t have to lay it all on the line right at the very beginning,” Gabriel says. “You could ease into it. Like…”

He holds a Hershey Kiss by the paper, says, “Want a kiss?” and looks at you with intense bedroom eyes.

“That–” You laugh. “Gabriel, that is so lame. And he wouldn’t even get the joke!”

“That’s when you explain it.” Gabriel claps his hands hard. “Boom! Your first personal in-joke. C’mon, just try it on me.”

“I-I don’t think I–” You’re laughing too much to say a full sentence even as Gabriel hands you a candy kiss.

“Come on kiddo, I know what I said but you should at least be serious enough to get the words out.”

“Okay, okay.” You breathe deep and calm yourself, even though this still seems stupid. When you see Cas suddenly right next to Gabriel you freeze. “Uh. Ah. Cas. H-hi, um…hi.”

He murmurs your name and are his eyes even bluer today? He seems even more attractive than usual and it’s tripping you up something fierce. “How are you feeling?”

“Great. Fine. Tired.” You’re still holding the piece of candy up and Cas looks at it and fuck, he’s going to ask about it, isn’t he, this is awkward, so awkward.

Your mouth moves fast than your brain does. “Do you want one of–” fuck, no, that’s wrong, what was it ag– “This is a–” this is bad, real bad. “Do you…” your brain has now ejected your body and all you can do is say, “…want…one?”

The ‘smack!’ of Gabriel’s palm meeting his forehead echoes in the library. Cas gives him a courtesy glance but turns all his concern on you and touches your forehead. “No thank you. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Yeah, just tired,” you say lamely.

“Then make certain you get some rest. I’ll try to check on you later,” he says and turns to Gabriel. “I have been calling you for–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabriel waves him off and shoves the bowl of candy in your arms with a half-amused smile on his face. “Have fun with these.”

With that, they’re gone. You sigh and put the bowl down. After only a thought, you grumble under your breath and unwrap the Kiss. You might as well– at this rate, it seems like this is the only way you’re going to get one.

#cas x reader #cas x you #castiel x reader #castiel x you #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural #spn #fanfic #october challenge

69 notes · View notes

roachleakage · 7 years

Note

I ask u ALL the Halloween questions!!!

OH SHIT OK

Bat - honestly, yes, a fucking bat. Fits into tiny spaces AND can fly. WHAT’S NOT TO LOVE

Black Cat - Knocking on wood (or, failing that, someone’s head) for luck. It’s not exactly witchcraft, but it certainly doesn’t make any sense, so superstition it is.

Broomstick - Portland, Maine. Or all of Maine, if I can swing it. I have it on Good Report that place is spooky as hell.

Candy Corn - I want to say the vomit-flavored Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans - because they are Utterly Repulsive, even compared to the other “gross” flavors. But they’re supposed to be gross, so other than that, the most repulsive actual food item that I can remember eating (not counting all the non-food things I’ve put in my mouth) is the chicken wraps they sell at Costco that cause explosive diarrhea. They taste fine, they just cause explosive diarrhea.

Cauldron - Pie, any kind. I fucking love making pie. It doesn’t follow that I’m good at it, but hey, that’s what cheesecake is for.

Cobwebs - Upper-class suburbs. I’m always low-key worried I’ll be mistaken for a burglar and get cops called on me or something. Plus the houses are just... IDK, too clean. It’s spooky.

Coffin - Yep. Especially in crowds, but also occasionally in restroom stalls.

Demon - It’s gonna be a toss-up between my ability to get involved in something pointless to the degree where I forget that time progressing is a thing for weeks on end, and my complete lack of anything resembling respect for hygiene. I am not a well man.

Eerie - Adults trying to ingratiate themselves to kids by “lowering themselves to (the kids’) level.” JUST TALK TO THEM LIKE PEOPLE, YA JOIRKS.

Fright - My mother.

Ghost - Probably a beetle. I love beetles; they’re round and flappy and handsome.

Gravestone - Hmmm that’s a good question. I’d like it to be something truly tasteless, just so that whenever people think about my death and try to get all sentimental they just think about the fact that I drowned at the bottom of a giant vat of beer.

Haunted House - Nobody, honestly. I’m a terrible roommate and I don’t like having to accommodate other people either. (Come to think of it, maybe that shoulda been my biggest flaw?)

Hocus Pocus - “Look What You Made Me Do” by Taylor Swift.

Howel - Smol.

Jack-o’-lantern - I sure do! I have scars from dermatillomania (did I mention I’m fucked up?) and a pretty impressive one on my foot from running into a tiller.

Monster - Uhhhhhhhhhhm I don’t really have a “favorite” scary movie, because if a movie actually scares me, watching it once is usually traumatic enough to be satisfying. Though I’d consider watching the It miniseries again, because it was funny as heck but left me with a satisfying spooked feeling.

Mummy- Cremated, please. As a dead body, I won’t really be needing anything, let alone a permanent chunk of ground just to lie around and be dead in.

Potion - Water (I really can’t stand the taste of most manufactured drinks) and Irish car bombs.

Pumpkin - Pumpkin spice coffee. Can’t get enough.

Scream - Stand behind a door I’m about to open in a place I wouldn’t expect you to be.

Skeleton - “Alexis Feynman” is a pseudonym. (In advance of any questions, no, I did not name myself after Richard Feynman.)

Spooky - I had a dream where one of my aunts, who is a known parasite, abruptly decided that her deceased father wanted her to have a bunch of stuff that the whole family was going to have to chip in to buy (some of which she didn’t even need).

Trick or Treat - OH MY GOD THIS IS MY FAVORITE STORY. Be forewarned, this is about me being a Terrible Person, I’m not proud of my behavior nor do I condone it. But god, it was HILARIOUS.

I was in a class where there was a continually rotating student body. Consequently, you had more senior students (of which I was one) mixed in with underclassmen (such as my unfortunate victim). This made it incredibly easy to get away with pranking other students with misinformation - sometimes for great justice, and sometimes, in my case, just to be an asshole.

I told this guy to delete his System32 folder.

He was naturally skeptical. (HE WAS RIGHT. DON’T EVER DELETE SYSTEM32, GUYS.) So I spun him a story: I told him that Windows used System32 to store outdated commands that it used to run various processes, and that if he deleted it, it would be forced to pull its commands from the (nonexistent) System64 folder, which contained newer commands that would make the computer run faster.

AGAIN. THERE IS NO SYSTEM64 FOLDER.

Well, this dude came to class the next day and LO AND BEHOLD, he’d done it. He said that he was skeptical until he looked in his Windows folder and found System64. I was like “wat” (he probably found the SysWow64 folder, which does exist on 64-bit systems). And he’d gone and deleted System32. Which COMPLETELY FUCKS UP WINDOWS, DON’T FREAKING DO THIS, YOUR COMPUTER WILL BE INOPERABLE WITHOUT ADVANCED REPAIR.

tl;dr I talked a dude into fubar-ing his computer

Vampire - Neither, really. I’m an afternoon guy. I like waking up in the late morning and staying up until the middle of the night.

Witch - Imean, I practice witchcraft IRL, so technically I’m already casting spells. But if we’re talking some Hollywood-tier “point ant shoot for fancy effect” stuff, I’ll go with a spell that instantly cuts my hair to the style I want.

Zombie: Kraft fucking mac and cheese. I swear that shit has no food value because no matter how much I eat I don’t feel full and that DAMN CHEESY GOODNESS just makes me crave it more. I could eat two boxes by myself ok, don’t let me near it.

1 note · View note

mistersplitfoot-archive-blog · 7 years

Text

Okay, I filled out that witchcraft survey thing. It’s long, so it’s under a read more. Again, sorry mobile users. 1. Are you solitary or in a coven?

I am solitary. There aren't many covens around here, and the ones that are nearby are all Wiccan. I also work better on my own, both in a magical and mundane sense, and I'm not very social. Solitary practice is better for me.

2. Do you consider yourself Wiccan, Pagan, witch, or other?

I am a secular witch. I do not currently consider myself a pagan, because I don't worship or honor anything, but that may change in the future. If it does, my magical practice will still be entirely secular. No need to involve religion. I am not, and I never will be, Wiccan.

3. What is your zodiac sign?

Aquarius sun, Sagittarius moon.

4. Do you have a Patron God/dess?

No.

5. Do you work with a Pantheon?

No.

6. Do you use tarot, palmistry, or any other kind of divination?

I read tarot and oracle cards, and sometimes runes. I plan to learn to read Lenormand soon. Sometimes I do bibliomancy, but it's rare. I'm interested in palmistry but I haven't started learning it yet.

7. What are some of your favorite herbs to use in your practice? (if any)

I don't have a job right now; my partner supports me financially. Because of this, I make the best of what I have available already or can access cheapy. I use a lot of cooking spices. Bay, basil, thyme, parsley, cinnamon, rosemary, etc. I also use the tea from herbal tea bags when I need something like chamomile, lavender, catnip, etc.

8. How would you define your craft?

I wouldn't. It's all over the place.

9. Do you curse? If not, do you accept others who do?

I do curse. I don't do it often, because it uses up a lot of my energy and as a spoonie witch I need to conserve as much as I can for mundane things.

10. How long have you been practicing?

Off and on for about twelve years.

11. Do you currently or have you ever had any familiars?

Sadly, I do not. None of my pets have ever seemed interested. One of my cats showed potential for a while, but she doesn't seem to care anymore. I am interested in connecting with a spirit familiar, though.

12. Do you believe in Karma or Reincarnation?

I believe in reincarnation. I do not believe in karma. Karma is part of specific religious systems that I am not a part of. I believe in reincarnation in a purely spiritual sense, with no connection to religion. On that note, because someone might ask, I do believe in the concept of otherkin and fictionkin. If there are infinite universes and reincarnation is a thing, there's no reason it would be impossible.

13. Do you have a magical name?

No. My last name has magical connotations on it's own, though it isn't the one I was born with. I chose it, after one of my favorite book characters.

14. Are you “out of the broom closet”?

First, I have to say that I have always hated this phrase, even before I understood anything about my non straight and non cis identity. I don't think it should be used by non-LGBT witches. But anyway. Yeah, most people who know me as more than an acquaintance know I'm a witch. Unfortunately, most of them assume that means I'm Wiccan, and I don't always have the energy to explain that I am not.

15. What was the last spell you performed?

A money drawing spell.

16. Would you consider yourself knowledgeable?

Yes and no. I know a lot of specific things, but I don't have a broad range of knowledge in most witchy subjects. I've been practicing for over a decade and I still feel like a beginner.

17. Do you write your own spells?

Yes. I rarely perform spells that I didn't write myself, or at least modify a bit.

18. Do you have a book of shadows? If so, how is it written and/or set up?

I have a grimoire. I prefer that term over BOS because BOS is so rooted in Wicca. Of course, I don't mind if others use it, it's just my preference. Anyway, I have two. One is faux leather bound binder originally intended for scrapbooking, so it's pretty big. That's the one I keep at home. I can rearrange pages as I like, since it's a three ring binder. I also have a smaller, portable grimoire in the form of one of those little journal books. It's also faux leather, and it's incomplete. I just started putting it together recently. It'll be a very watered down version of my main grimoire, with just basic information for easy reference purposes. The larger one is much more thorough.

19. Do you worship nature?

I don't worship anything, but if I were to worship anything, it would be the cosmos.

20. What is your favorite gemstone?

Blue goldstone, green goldstone, opal, malachite, and I know it isn't technically a gem, but opalite.

21. Do you use feathers, claws, fur, pelt, skeletons/bones, or any other animal body part for magical work?

I don't, but that's because I just don't have any. And I don't have the funds to acquire any. The only bones I have is the partial skeleton of a baby deer, found by my mom's hunter friend when he was in the woods. They had been there a while and most of it was missing, but my mom got her friend to give me what he found. I haven't done anything with them yet. They're fairly large so I'm not sure what to use them for.

22. Do you have an altar?

I have two, but they're for spellwork, not worship. I have one downstairs in my living room, it's on top of a waist-high bookshelf. And I have one in the bedroom, on top of an antique glass vanity that used to be my mom's. Both are very small, much smaller than I'd like, but again, I make the best of what I have.

23. What is your preferred element?

Air or fire.

24. Do you consider yourself an Alchemist?

Not really. I don't know much about alchemy, to be honest. It's on my list of things to study. Eventually. I have a long list.

25. Are you any other type of magical practitioner besides a witch?

Maybe? I'm not sure. I don't think so, though.

26. What got you interested in witchcraft?

I can't remember. I can hardly remember what I did last week. I just know that when I first found out about it, everyone had me believing that Wicca was the Only Option. Because of that, it took me a while to get into it.

27. Have you ever performed a spell or ritual with the company of anyone who was not a witch?

Yep. I live with my partner, who is not a witch, and I've done several spells in front of them and for them.

28. Have you ever used ouija?

No. My partner had a bad experience with one as a child and won't let me bring one into the house. I'll use one someday, though.

29. Do you consider yourself a psychic?

I think everyone is to some degree, but I don't think my talents are very strong.

30. Do you have a spirit guide? If so, what is it?

I do, in a sense. This is rather personal so I won't go into it too much, but it's someone I knew in a past life.

31. What is something you wish someone had told you when you first started?

That Wicca is not the only option! And that I don't have to devote my time and energy into woshiping a faceless God and Goddess that I feel absolutely no connection with. That I don't have to be religious at all to be a witch.

32. Do you celebrate the Sabbats? If so which one is your favorite?

I don't. I celebrate 'christian' holidays in a secular sense (christmas, easter, etc) and I associate the Sabbats with Wicca, so I just. Don't acknoweldge them. I don't mind when other people do, though.

33. Would you ever teach witchcraft to your children?

I'm never having children.

34. Do you meditate?

Yes, but I'm not very good at it.

35. What is your favorite season?

Late fall and winter.

36. What is your favorite type of magick to preform?

Anything, really. Aside from curses. Curses take up so much more energy than any other kind of spell I do and then I'm just exhausted for the rest of the day.

37. How do you incorporate your spirituality into your daily life?

I'm not really sure how to answer this. It's not really something I can explain.

38. What is your favorite witchy movie?

Hocus Pocus! It's been a favorite since I was a kid. It was one of those movies I'd watch repeatedly all day and make my parents hate me.

39. What is your favorite witchy book, both fiction and non-fiction.

Fiction, probably Harry Potter because I'm a big ol' cliche and because I literally grew up with it. Non-fiction, probably The Element Encyclopedia of 5000 Spells by Judika Illes. I've owned it twice now. I first borrowed it from a friend in high school, and it was in pretty bad condition. Pages falling out and whatnot. That friend moved away before I could give it back, and I lent it to someone else. I never got it back either, and a couple years ago my partner bought me a replacement. I like the cover of the new edition much better, anyway.

40. What is the first spell you ever preformed? Successful or not.

Fuck if I know, my dude. Like I said, I can barely remember last week.

41. What’s the craziest witchcraft-related thing that’s happened to you?

Nothing too weird has happened to me as far as magic stuff goes, but when I was still honoring Loki, something happened. I was talking to him about something, I can't remember what, but I think I mentioned something about doubting the existence of deities, and how I wasn't sure if anyone was even hearing me. Literally the next day, a fucking snake got into my house. No idea how. But it just showed up, and my cat chased it around and we managed to catch it before the cat could hurt it and we set it free. It had never happened before, and it hasn't happened since. So yeah, I get it, deities exist and they hear us. Message received.

42. What is your favourite type of candle to use?

I love black candles. I know, it's so cliche and 'edgy' of me, but they just feel so witchy and nice.

43. What is your favorite witchy tool?

I don't use many tools. Usually the only things I use are incense burners, candles, and occasionally my tiny cast iron cauldron.

44. Do you or have you ever made your own witchy tools?

I made an offering bowl years ago, when I was still making offerings to deities. That's about it.

45. Have you ever worked with any magical creatures such as the fae or spirits?

I have not, but I'm very interested in doing so. I need to research a lot more, though.

46. Do you practice color magic?

Yes, color plays a big part in my practice. I try to use candles in appropriate colors for specific spells, or I write in colored ink when drawing up sigils, the colors of gems matter, etc.

47. Do you or have you ever had a witchy teacher or mentor of any kind?

Nope.

48. What is your preferred way of shopping for witchcraft supplies?

There's a new age store about thirty minutes from my house. They're the only place I can find a large amount of crystals, herbs, and incense. And the staff there is very nice. I usually buy candles at the dollar store, though. And when Halloween rolls around, Walmart sells little packs of black tea lights for a decent price, so I stock up n those every October. Craft stores are good for some things, too.

49. Do you believe in predestination or fate?

Yes and no. I think every choice you make changes your fate. That's why things like tarot and rune readings aren't set in stone. You have the power to change things if you don't like the projected outcome.

50. What do you do to reconnect when you are feeling out of touch with your practice?

Take a break from it. Sometimes I just get burned out and don't feel it. That's fine. I just take a couple months off and I don't do anything witchy. Then after a bit, the feeling comes back on it's own. Something I see or read or hear will spark it again.

51. Have you ever had any supernatural experiences?

There's a ghost in my house that fucks with me all the time. Nothing dangerous or violent, more like hiding my things and opening cupboards that I know the cats can't reach. And at my mom's, I have an uncle who haunts the house. I never met him, he died when he was a kid, but my mom has seen him in the backyard, and he's turned lights on after I've turned them off when I've been house sitting. My partner swears they've heard him say 'hello'. And the snake thing I mentioned earlier, if that counts.

52. What is your biggest witchy pet peeve?

People thinking witch = Wicca, and that any witch who isn't Wiccan is 'fake'. That, and people (Wiccans) who try to force their anti-cursing Threefold Law rhetoric on other, non-Wiccans. And the rampant cultural appropriation, of course.

53. Do you like incense? If so what’s your favorite scent?

I love incense. I go through it like it's water. My favorite scent is probably dragon's blood.

54. Do you keep a dream journal of any kind?

I've tried, but I never manage to keep up with it. I'll try again someday.

55. What has been your biggest witchcraft disaster? I've never had anything terrible happen, thankfully.

56. What has been your biggest witchcraft success?

I helped my partner get a job! It happened about a week after I did an employment spell for them. They ended up hating the job and quitting two months later, but still!

57. What in your practice do you do that you may feel silly or embarrassed about?

Nothing really.

58. Do you believe that you can be an atheist, Christian, Muslim or some other faith and still be a witch too?

Absolutely.

59. Do you ever feel insecure, unsure or even scared of spell work?

Of course. I think everyone feels like this now and then, even experienced witches.

60. Do you ever hold yourself to a standard in your witchcraft that you feel you may never obtain?

Oh definitely. But I do that in all areas of my life, not just witchcraft.

61. What is something witch related that you want right now?

I have a spare room in my house that I currently use for storage. The dream is to clear it out, donate all the shit I don't want anymore, and turn that spare room into a magical room, where I can have a bigger work space and more room to make things look all pretty and nice. And maybe keep a little herb garden in there near the window.

62. What is your rune of choice?

I don't use runes enough to really have one.

63. What is your tarot card of choice?

The Star is my favorite card.

64. Do you use essential oils? If so what is your favorite?

I do sometimes. My favorites are lavender, jasmine, rose, patchouli, amber, and honeysuckle.

65. Have you ever taken any kind of witchcraft or pagan courses?

Nope.

66. Do you wear pagan jewelry in public?

I don't really wear much jewelry. As a transmasc person who doesn't pass very well, I try not to wear things that will make it even harder for me to pass. Sometimes I'll wear an amethyst point under my shirt, or the old skeleton key I've enchanted.

67. Have you ever been discriminated against because of your faith or being a witch?

No. Unless you count my mom being very against it when I was a teenager, but even then, it wasn't a big deal. She didn't threaten to kick me out or anything, she just didn't want me doing anything in her house. I was still allowed to read and study it.

68. Do you read or subscribe to any pagan magazines? No. I don't even know of any.

69. Do you think it’s important to know the history of paganism and witchcraft?

Well, the history of paganism is extremely broad. It's an umbrella term for a bunch of different religions. I think it's a little ridiculous to expect, say, a Hellenic Recon pagan to know the history of Celtic Recon or something. So it's good to know the history of YOUR practice. As for witchcraft, I think it helps to know where some things came from, to know you're not appropriating anything, and also so you know Wicca isn't fucking 5000 years old or whatever. And don't spread misinfo. If you're knowledge on 'The Burning Times" is from a $ilver Ravenw0lf book, I suggest you do some further research because it's fucking wrong.

70. What are your favorite things about being a witch?

I like the aesthetic and I like knowing I have some level of control over things in my life. When I can be bothered to use that control, anyway.

71. What are your least favorite things about being a witch?

The fact that I have to constantly explain that witch does not equal Wiccan. The fact that there are still people (read: TERFs) who think you have to be a cis woman to be a witch. And witches that shit on other witches for not being militant vegans. Fuck off.

72. Do you listen to any pagan music? If so who is your favorite singer/band?

Not really. It's not really my thing. I personally think southern gothic music is far more witchy than most 'witchy' musicians. Not that that's the only genre I listen to, that's just an example.

73. Do you celebrate the Esbbats? If so, how?

Nope.

74. Do you ever work skyclad?

Nope. My altars are right in front of windows, and I also just don't think it's necessary.

75. Do you think witchcraft has improved your life? If so, how?

Sure. Like I said, it's given me a sense of control, and it's given me some hobbies and interests I might not have otherwise.

76. Where do you draw inspiration from for your practice?

Pop culture, other witches, art, music.

77. Do you believe in ‘fantasy’ creatures? (Unicorns, fairies, elves, gnomes, ghosts, etc)

Well I don't consider ghosts to be fantasy creatures. But anyway. I think things like that can exist on other planes, like the astral or something. I think in special circumstances, maybe they can be seen (I know people have claimed to have seen faeries, for example), but I think they're usually invisible.

78. What’s your favorite sigil/symbol?

I like planetary symbols, if that counts.

79. Do you use blood magick in your practice? Why or why not?

I have before, but I don't do it often because I have an intense preoccupation with disease and infection. I think, in most cases, spit or hair or fingernails work just fine instead, and you aren't risking getting sick from it.

80. Could you ever be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t support your practice?

Probably not. I don't have to date a witch (as I said before, my partner is not a witch), but I can't date someone who doesn't support me or thinks what I do is silly or fake.

81. In what area or subject would you most like your craft to grow?

I'm not sure?

82. What’s your favorite candle scent? Do you use it in your practice?

I don't have a favorite. I prefer unscented candles because lighting a bunch of different scents all at once tends to give me a headache.

83. Do you have a pre-ritual ritual? (I.e. Something you do before rituals to prepare yourself for them). If so what is it?

Gather up everything I need. Wash my hands. Do some deep breathing and/or meditation if it's necessary. Dab a specific oil on if it's necessary. Make sure I have water nearby if I'm using fire.

84. What real life witch most inspires your practice?

No one specific, I just like following witchy blogs and instagrams and seeing what others are doing.

85. What is your favorite method of communicating with deity?

I don't do this anymore, but if I wanted to talk, I'd just light a candle I had set aside for them and just. Talk to them. If I wanted some kind of response or guidance, I'd use tarot cards, too.

86. How do you like to organize all your witchy items and ingredients?

What is 'organization'? My stuff is just anywhere it will fit. One of the reasons I want to clear out that room, so I can actually have some organization.

87. Do you have any witches in your family that you know of?

Nope.

88. How have you created your path? What is unique about it?

I couldn't really tell you, because I don't even know if it is unique. It probably isn't. I'm sure there are tons of other witches out there who do the same, or similar, things that I do. My goal isn't to be unique, it's to do whatever works.

89. Do you feel you have any natural gifts or affinities (premonitions, hearing spirits, etc.) that led you toward the craft? If so what are they?

I like to think I'm pretty good with tarot. I'm never going to be perfect, and I'll never be done learning, but I think I've gotten fairly good at it.

90. Do you believe you can initiate yourself or do you have to be initiated by another witch or coven?

I think this varies from tradition to tradition. Since I'm not part of any tradition at all, this does not apply to me.

91. When you first started out in your path what was the first thing or things you bought?

Nothing. I borrowed books from friends.

92. What is the most spiritual or magickal place you’ve been?

Wooded areas and lakes feel spiritual to me, as do some liminal spaces. There's also this place near my house called Five Points that is infamous around here for ghost activity.

93. What’s one piece of advice you’d give someone who is searching for their matron and patron deities?

My advice is don't ask me for this kind of advice.

94. What techniques do you use to ‘get in the zone’ for meditation?

The deep breathing exercises they teach you to control anxiety is helpful, because it slows your heart rate and puts you at ease, even if you aren't having a panic attack. I also like to listen to certain instrumental music, or sometimes even certain ASMR videos. Depending on my mood, I might light candles or incense, too.

95. Did visualization come easily to you or did you have to practice at it?

It comes very easy to me. It has since I was a kid, because part of playing with friends was visualization. I'm also an artist, and I know not all artists do this but I usually see a drawing before I do it. So visualization is just second nature for me.

96. Do you prefer day or night? Why?

Night. Because my sleep schedule is fucked and I don't start feeling active until around 4 or 5 pm.

97. What do you think is the best time and place to do spell work?

Place is wherever you have everything you need and you're comfortable and safe. Time depends. I like to time my spells with certain days of the week and moon phases if possible. If you mean time of day, I prefer night, but again, that's because I'm not very active during the day.

98. How did you feel when you cast your first circle? Did you stumble or did it go smoothly?

I don't remember any of my 'firsts'.

99. Do you believe witchcraft gets easier with time and practice?

Ehh kinda. Not everything gets easier, but some things do. Like, you learn what works for you and what doesn't after trial and error. You start to remember correspondences without needing to look them up. Things like that get easier.

100. Do you believe in many gods or one God with many faces?

Many gods. All gods, actually. Even 'fictional' gods. Because I believe in all deities, and I believe in the multiverse theory.

101. Do you eat meat, eggs and dairy?

I don't eat red meat because of medical reasons. I have a hard time digesting it and it almost always makes me sick. I do eat other meats, like poultry and seafood, and I eat eggs and dairy. I am not a vegan. I don't think you have to be a vegan to be a witch. And I think militant vegans need to tone it the fuck down.

102. What is your favorite color and why?

Blues and purples. They're calming, pretty, and remind me of things from a past life.

103. What is the one question you get asked most by non-practitioners or non-pagans? How do you usually respond?

To be honest, most of my non-practicing friends don't ask me much. My partner asks me to do spells or them, that's about it. Or I get asked to do readings. Other than that, I don't get many questions.

104. Which of your five senses would you say is your strongest?

Either hearing or scent.

105. What is a pagan or witchcraft rule that you preach but don’t practice?

Protection, probably. I don't cast a circle or wards for every spell or ritual I do. I probably should use them more, but I just. Hardly do. I usually only do that if I'm going to be performing a curse.

#long post #about me

2 notes · View notes

pippki-writes · 3 years

Text

An Ill-Fitting Name: Snippet 13

NOTES:

Snippet 1; Snippets 2 & 3; Snippet 4; Snippet 5; Snippet 6; Snippet 7; Snippet 8; Snippet 9; Snippet 10; Snippet 11; Snippet 12

Word Count: ~2.9k

Faoust belongs to @thebiggestnerd - she writes him and the healer; Isaiah, Cat, Detective Voros and everyone else here are mine.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%

It has been far, far too many days, with no sign of that damned officer again. Faoust decides he’s going to end things himself, and take out that cop. He’s tired of waiting to see what she’s going to do. Of course she’s somehow never managed to give her name. Not written on anything she left when she was looking for Asmodai. Not even on a name badge on her uniform. Faoust calls the police station.

“Hello,” says the desk officer, “police department.”

“Yeah,” Faoust replies, “I want to make a complaint about an officer but I don't know their name.”

“Uh huh. Well d’you know what unit number it was?”

“She didn't give it to me. But I know a case she was on.”

“Ohhhhkaaaay,” the desk officer drawls, “what’s the case then?”

“Missing person from the hospital.”

The desk officer can’t help but chuckle. As an officer, D. Voros never could keep her mouth shut, and it’s no surprise that getting promoted to detective almost entirely against her will has done little to improve her public relations. “Oh ho ho he he ha hm, not surprising. Alright what’s your name and number?”

“Faoust,” he says, and gives a phone number.

“Mhm mhm and what’s your complaint?”

“She assaulted my friend.”

“Mhm mhm—wait, what?” The desk officer sits up in his chair. “That’s a serious accusation there!”

“Is it? Well she came into his motel room and shot his pet bird. I'd like to talk to her about that.”

“Shot—shot his?! Are you, I’m sorry when and where did this occur?” In the background, the sound of heavy keyboard activity can be heard, fingers clattering the keys.

“Motel outside of town. About a month ago. Could you tell me her name and if she’s working?”

The desk officer makes a series of incredulous noises, thunderous typing still audible. “Are you absolutely sure about this, hmm.”

“Bird only has one wing now.”

“You have proof of this?”

“Just a bird with one wing and my friend's testimony. Look, I don't want to make a big fucking deal out of this. I just want to talk to her.”

The desk officer, at this point, is now talking mostly to himself. “Highly irregular, tricky being a detective and all, might have to call up the watch commander to handle this…”

“Helloooo? Officer name and tell her to come talk to me.”

“You must understand sir we take these allegations very seriously and will investigate them to the utmost.”

“That's fine. Officer name. And tell her to come talk to me.”

“You must, must understand sir that these times being unprecedentedly what they are for safety purposes and in light of these allegations it would not be appropriate for me to disclosinate the nomenclature of the aforementioned accused at this time, but I will relay your concern to the watch commander.”

“Ugh, you're useless. I'm going to have to come down there.”

In the background of the desk officer’s phone you can hear radio chatter, and 6676 keys up “put me out on the corner of Main and Broad with.....with a bunch of geese that won’t get out the road.”

“That’s probably a good idea, we’ll need a statement from you, your friend—“

But Faoust hangs up on hearing the officer he’s looking for key up in the background, and heads to the corner of Main and Broad, looking for her.

Detective Voros is in her patrol car, lights flashing, honking her horn. There are indeed several Canadian geese just sitting and standing in the roadway.

Detective Voros is in the middle of yelling at the birds to get the fuck out of the road when Faoust approaches her car, bangs his hand on the roof and peers down in, looking irritated.

“SHIT,” she exclaims, jerking away from the window, hand going to rest on the butt of the gun at her hip.

“You got a lotta nerve,” says Faoust coolly.

“Jesus fucking shit. What did I do to you?” says Voros, trying to get her heart rate back under the exploding-beats-per-minute range.

“I thought I told you to leave well enough alone.”

“I did.”

“You tried to fucking shoot him.”

Detective Voros looks at Faoust, steely eyed. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Faoust scoffs. “Look, I tried to let you go on your way but you decided to be a problem.”

“No problem, ok? My radio, which was never lost, is where it’s supposed to be. No crimes, no reports.”

“Maybe for you, but in my book? You fucked up.”

“Your book isn’t the law. Now go on about your business.”

“Hm.” Faoust casts a sigil, and deep potholes open up beneath Detective Voros’s patrol car.

Detective Voros is surprisingly nimble for her frame, and voluminously loud in swearing as the car falls in and she, unharmed, pulls herself out of the window and onto the roof of her car, keying up on her radio as she does.

“Shit, shit 6676 I need a fuckin, fire truck or something, my car’s in a deep pothole, do not ask just get me out I’m fine just get me out.” She is glaring up at Faoust now, and though she hasn’t drawn her gun she has her hand ready on it.

“Oh,” says Faoust lightly, “how’d that happen?”

“You. You did it and I know you did it. Get the hell away from me.” She keys up into her radio again. “Yes I said a fucking pothole yes I’m FINE.”

“I have no intentions of going anywhere. You fucked with the wrong people. I warned you and you persisted.” Without further preamble, Faoust launches a fireball at her.

Detective Voros panics—her intention is to dodge, secure position, then shoot, but her foot slips and she doesn’t get out of the way—she is flailing to regain her balance when the fireball is drawn harmlessly into her, like a black hole smoothly drinking down a neighboring sun, and the echo of the action is like a whisper of cold back in the direction of the source of the magic, daring the source to do something else.

Detective Voros is definitely wildly panicking then when she pitches herself forward instead onto a knee, crouching, gun drawn without even thinking about it, and fires two rounds up at Faoust.

“What on—“ Faoust begins before he’s being shot at—he deflects one bullet, but takes the other squarely in the shoulder.

“FUCK!” Faoust screams, and sends another fireball at the detective.

Detective Voros is sort of prepared this time, in that she is prepared to roll in one direction or another, but not prepared for, regardless of the direction she dodges, the fireball to be drawn towards her, slowing as it approaches and once more harmlessly dissolving into her. Another cold whisper travels back towards Faoust as this happens.

Now Detective Voros is shouting. “WHAT THE FUCK YOU HOCUS POCUS MOTHERFUCKER?” She doesn’t know how to explain any of this and smacks the emergency button on her radio, the panicked tone screaming through the dispatch center. “6676 CHANGED MY MIND I AM NOT OK AND THIS MOTHERFUCKER HAS SOME KIND OF…” she struggles to think of something that will make sense, “GODDAMNED FLAMETHROWER!”

Detective Voros has the disadvantage of the terrain but tries to shoot again.

“WHAT ARE YOU?” Faoust roars, and deflects the bullets as he's more prepared this time. He opens a hole underneath Voros. Not too deep, just enough that she can't climb out of it.

A lot of sirens start screaming very loudly at various distances and start getting closer.

“FUCK, I DON’T KNOW!” She tries to act like she’s aiming for his head and fakes toward the direction of a kneecap instead.

Faoust takes another bullet to the knee, screaming and swearing and vanishing from the scene with a loud ear-splitting crack.

Detective Voros is still holding out her gun, breathing heavy. “......fucking.....fuck this....paperwork....” she mumbles to herself.

Faoust’s healer earns herself quite the paycheck this time.

Detective Voros, against her wishes, is nevertheless taken in for mental evaluation. In her favor—a sinkhole, blood on the asphalt. Ultimately also in her favor—very shaky and disjointed body camera footage that seems to show someone doing…something? Impossible to tell. Claims of some kind of flamethrower and a suspect having completely vanished are working against her.

Faoust texts Isaiah, “we can't use magic on her it looks like. Got shot twice for my trouble.”

Isaiah: “I guess it would be a little rude to say I told you, right?”

Faoust: "yeah, yeah fuck you too. And yes I'm alright. We need to come up with a plan that involves getting her gun and stabbing her. A lot"

Isaiah: “well I figured you were fine, otherwise you wouldn’t be texting me”

Isaiah: “but I’m glad you’re alright”

Isaiah sprawls on the recliner, gesticulating into the air as he speaks, saying things like “I told him, I TOLD him,” and “can’t believe he got shot,” to which Cat, who prefers laying on her stomach on the couch, head propped in her hand, notes “she shoots a lot, this officer, doesn’t she?”

After a contemplative pause, Cat wonders, “you worry about him?”

And Isaiah scoffs. “Of course not, he can take care of himself.”

Detective Voros isn’t totally concerned with being put on administrative leave. She was a bit shaky, when help arrived, because no one trains you to really be attacked with a flamethrower (this line she kept repeating, as if repeating it might bring her absolution). She made other repeated disbelieving mumbles, and so it is not surprising that the police department hasn’t figured out who they’re looking for yet. Hell, they haven’t yet corroborated what Detective Voros said. The possibility of concussion, hallucination on her part? That’s still the prevailing theory.

They don’t exactly like it when Detective Voros, determined to be suitably sane enough to be released to her own care, leaves town early in the morning with no indication of where she’s going, but then, the prevailing theory at that point in time was that the pothole ruptured some kind of gas line that had made her see things that weren’t there—they were still having trouble with the bodycam footage—and she gave no one else any choice in the matter because she simply left.

Just a quick little trip to see her grandmother. Her grandmother, the one who always told her not to tell anyone her name, not to leave behind hair strands or nail clippings (exception to this rule: if kidnapped, leave DNA evidence), things like that. Her grandmother who, her intuition tells her, might know something if asked.

It would be rude to wake up an old woman, in the early morning out in rural Virginia, but at an alleged 97 years old, Gramma Lora is already awake before the sun, and sees the little old silver pickup truck sitting in her driveway, Dani asleep inside with her head resting against the window. It would be rude to wake up her sleeping granddaughter, so Lora goes to the kitchen and busies herself with the tasks of the morning.

Detective Voros wakes when the sun starts to shine directly in her eyes, and for a moment tries to convince herself it was just a crazy dream. But she is still in her uniform—without the gun, that had to go with forensics, because in spite of any crazy things she had said, there was the blood and bullets obviously having been fired, and something had happened, even if it was hard for the people in charge to fully agree on what that something was. Detective Voros sits up, and looks at the familiar house, the fields where first tobacco, then corn, then hay were grown, all familiar, and here she is just Dani. She sees movement through the kitchen window, and gets out of her truck to go knock on the carport door.

“Baby you act like you been away so long you can’t just walk in?” Lora calls from the kitchen over the hiss of bacon being dropped fresh in a skillet. Dani opens the unlocked door and walks in hesitantly, past the deep chest freezers in the entryway, past the struggling old desktop computer crammed in a nook next to the washer and dryer, memories of childhood in comforting flashes as she walks—the time the whole extended family almost broke every ankle when all the kids unleashed their collected stores of 25-cent bouncy balls in one dramatic swoop across the kitchen floor; the smells and tastes of so many breakfasts and the anticipation of eating them—and gives her grandmother a hug.

“Gramma,” says Dani, “I’ve seen some sh..some stuff you won’t....well...maybe you will believe. I need to talk to you about it.”

Driving back to her home—because this is all too much to think about, yes she stayed for lunch, no Gramma thank you, I have work to get back to, I think, I can’t stay longer—Dani (more and more Detective Voros, less and less Dani as the miles pass beneath the tires) keeps replaying phrases in her mind.

“You weren’t ever meant to know.”

“I was trying to keep you safe. And then of all things you become the damn police anyway. So much for safe.”

“I don’t know what to call it. I don’t know if they’ve got a word for what I did.”

Magic. Bullshit magic. Real, bullshit magic. Protecting her, and inaccessible to her.

Date night for a couple of murder friends with benefits—dinner at a Korean food truck, trading spicy mandu dumplings back and forth, before heading to the night’s main attraction: a squat, windowless concrete building surrounded by a gravel parking lot. There is a faded wooden sign in the parking lot proclaiming this establishment as the Gray and Blue. The parking lot has a decent handful of trucks with obnoxious bumper stickers. A dingy little white power nest, Isaiah called it.

Faoust sneers, looking around. “I hate it already.”

“Told you!” Isaiah says brightly. “I don’t think we ought to go in, by the way. We kind of look like the sort of people that sort of people like to hit.”

They decide to pick off the patrons as they come and go for a few rounds. Soon after, two men come stumbling out of the door. The first, average along every dimension, wears a shirt that says “my other gun is a gun,” followed by a nasty-faced heavyset man with a white t-shirt with the words “makes right” on it.

Isaiah and Faoust smile and get to work. Violence. Murder. Bloodshed. Guns drawn and impressively useless in the face of two psychotic killer mages. Evidence made to vanish with a snap of their fingers.

Isaiah picks a smaller, champagne colored pickup truck and sets off the alarm, waiting for the owner to appear. Another confrontation, pointless for the victim. Keys stolen, another kill for Faoust. Isaiah kneels by the license plate, tracing sigils on the shapes stamped there until they begin to smooth themselves into other numbers and letters.

They christen the newly stolen truck with a quick consummation in the passenger’s seat, door open, loud as can be, hoping someone else will dare come out and get themselves killed for it. But why wait? Isaiah sets off another truck alarm, the most expensive in the parking lot, and it begins its mournful keening.

It’s not long before the bar door opens, and a voice that sounds like it belongs to the first fraternal order of douchebaggery and natty light says “my truck!” and can be heard jogging across the parking lot. Isaiah uses his magic to yank the unlucky bastard over to them to have the privilege of being killed.

Of course, Faoust and Isaiah both are almost too distracted by being buried one in the other to be bothered to kill him properly. Almost. But they kill him just the same, another lewd and obscene display of violence.

Just the sort of thing Isaiah and Faoust enjoy.

Detective Voros is reinstated without punishment. Due to the inexplicable damage to the footage on her bodycam, it was not conclusive that what she shot was a person. The official report concludes that she shot a potentially rabid deer, which leapt away from the scene. The sinkhole likely ruptured a microscopic intermittent gas line which may account for any strange phenomena reported at the time by Detective Voros. A complaint filed against her that same night was dismissed as unfounded due to the lack of a complainant. Detective Voros is assigned a case in which four missing men were all last seen at the Gray & Blue bar on the same night, and she sighs.

She goes to the gravel lot. No security cameras—these paranoid types, too concerned about government spying to have such a thing. No witnesses, not outside. Three trucks still sitting in the parking lot. One missing. A dent in a truck door, the kind of damage that looks new. Researching the victims—noxious Facebook posts and idiotic retweets of godawful takes. Not a great loss, these men. Cell phone pings bring nothing. No credit card transactions. Her intuition tells her violence, but her fingers type a conclusion woven out of whole cloth, that the four men drove off in the missing truck together to give their lives to the white nationalist cause and headed potentially for Alabama. She puts out a bolo on the tag as potential right-wing terrorists of interest but manages to not conclude any crimes as having taken place, and closes the case.

She does not want to go looking for more trouble.

- NEXT SNIPPET -

#an ill-fitting name #My writing #original story #collaborative fiction #original work #original writing #original fiction #magic fiction #magic murderer #magic murder #Snippets #fictional murderer #fictional incompetent police #Fictional police shooting

0 notes

njawaidofficial · 6 years

Text

Everything You Need To Know About The New "Sabrina" Series

https://styleveryday.com/2018/02/28/everything-you-need-to-know-about-the-new-sabrina-series/

Everything You Need To Know About The New "Sabrina" Series

Sabrina might be a cannibal, for starters.

Frazer Harrison / Getty Images

Warner Bros.

The show and comics are both penned by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa — the Riverdale showrunner. The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina takes place in the same universe as Riverdale. Greendale, where Sabrina lives, is a neighboring town.

The CW

Though no one’s officially confirmed or denied a possible crossover, there are lot of familiar Riverdale faces in the Sabrina comics. Betty and Veronica are witches who play a pretty central role, a big meeting takes place at Pop’s Chock’Lit Shoppe, and Jughead even makes a cameo.

Archie Comics

And the comics are very morbid. There’s a fair amount of devil worship, sex, and zombies.

Archie Comics

The show already has some Buffy the Vampire Slayer vibes. A Netflix press release described Sabrina as “an empowered young woman, just beginning her dark education as a sorceress, even as she tries to maintain a normal life as a sophomore at Baxter High.” She’s often “all that stands between us and the forces of darkness that threaten our world.”

Warner Bros.

Sabrina is half mortal and half witch. Her warlock father received special dispensation to marry her mother, a mortal, after the three Weird Sisters prophesied that the mixing of mortal and witch blood would secure the Spellman family’s place in history.

Sabrina’s an extremely powerful witch from a young age, though she’s half mortal. She’s often a step ahead of her magical peers, but struggles to fit in.

Archie Comics

Sabrina will probably have a looot of Dad Issues. Edward Spellman, Sabrina’s absent father, was once high priest of the Church of Night. He’s power-hungry, vicious, and kind of the worst.

At one point in the comics, Edward inhabits Sabrina’s boyfriend’s body and briefly considers having sex with her. MMMMMK. There’s been no casting news about Edward, or confirmation of whether he’ll appear in the TV series.

Archie Comics

Sabrina’s mortal mom, Diana, is also absent from her first birthday onward.

Archie Comics

The comics begin on Oct. 31, 1951 — Sabrina’s first birthday — but most of the action takes place leading up to Sabrina’s 16th birthday.

At age 16, Sabrina has to decide if she’ll partake in an unholy baptismal ritual that will make her loyal to Satan, and fully initiate her as a witch and member of the Church of Night. She can also choose to remain mortal.

Archie Comics

Sabrina was raised by her aunts, Zelda and Hilda, Edward’s older sisters and powerful witches who have pledged their souls to Satan. They both love Sabrina, and want her to command her own fate.

Archie Comics

Valery Hache / AFP / Getty Images

But chances are he won’t be some lighthearted, wisecracking sidekick. Salem is a “familiar” — a witch’s animal companion and protector — and he used to be a human. He has a ghastly backstory rooted in the Salem witch trials.

Salem’s human name was Samuel. He sailed to Boston on a ship called the Black Pearl — yes, seriously — in 1692. He’s been trapped in cat form since then, but the Devil foresaw that he would one day serve a girl “who is both less than a witch, and more,” and after that he might become human again. It’s all very Thackery Binx in Hocus Pocus.

Archie Comics

The villain is a character named Madam Satan. She’s Edward’s former lover who killed herself when Edward rejected her for Sabrina’s mortal mother. She’s since been resurrected from Hell and wants revenge on the Spellman clan.

Archie Comics

Jason Merritt / Getty Images

Harvey Kinkle, Sabrina’s jock boyfriend, is a major player in the comics. But he’s nothing like Harvey from the the original TV show, and neither is his fate.

Archie Comics

Sabrina might be a cannibal.

In the comics, the witches are cannibals. They eat normal food, but also, ya know, people — both living and dead. Zelda and Hilda choose a house in Greendale right across from the cemetery so they can enjoy an unlimited food supply.

Archie Comics

In the comics, Sabrina flies on a broom. And it’s iconic.

The broom, a gift from her aunts, is carved from the scaffolds used to hang some of her ancestors during the 1692 Salem witch trials.

Archie Comics

Basically, get hype.

AMC

0 notes

uterusclub · 6 years

Text

It seemed odd and slightly frustrating that every time I mentioned visiting New Mexico to someone, it was met with preposterousness. Surely one would be more open-minded and curious about the lesser known or explored locations of the world instead of continuously dabbling in the cliched overkills of touristy vacation spots. It wasn’t until I came across a venue situated in Santa Fe, New Mexico that I became absolutely obsessed with the idea of visiting: The Meow Wolf. Described as a psychedelic fun house and part art display and music venue, the videos and articles I read absolutely enthralled me. If my personality and spirit could be placed within the confines of a structured building, this would be its home. Naturally upon my discovery of this place, I immediately reported to Sharon which in turn, snowballed into the idea of a Halloween weekend vacation in New Mexico! But wait! What else would we do there? It took a few weeks and a lot of research but eventually we succeeded in what we do best – a well-executed itinerary! Restaurants were studied, hotels were researched and activities were scheduled in accordance to location, timing and ratings. We are professionals after all. And with that, we were on our way!

Thanks to my Southwest credit card, our round trip tickets to New Mexico were free – save for our blue line commute to Midway Airport which was slightly delayed after finding out there was some re-route work going on. My time paranoia mildly nagged until we were safely situated at the airport and flew through security. And being the professional travelers we are, we prepped our flight with some Halloween-themed movies for entertainment! Our journey started with Hocus Pocus and continued with The Others. Three hours later, we arrived in Albuquerque, New Mexico!

After grabbing our checked bags, we waited in the ever growing shuttle line for car rentals to grab our transit. Shortly thereafter, I found myself easily talked into a vehicle upgrade. Mustang? Why yes, that sounds delightful! White, white, or red? I believe the correct answer is ‘red!’ And with that, I was tossed back into my car-rental driving anxiety which is absolutely terrifying. A Mustang and Volkswagen Beetle are two very different things. It didn’t help that the gas pedal was super touchy either! Thank goodness I had Sharon to GPS me around these strange lands so I could solely concentrate on not killing us.

Our first stop on the agenda was to the Turquoise Museum which I’d purchased a Groupon for ahead of time but since we were already starving and had a little bit of time to kill before our tour reservation, we headed to a joint I’d randomly come across on a list of the best grilled cheese sandwiches throughout the United States. Cinched for time, we ordered and grabbed a sandwich to go before heading out. Arriving a few minutes early for our tour, the museum was situated at a shopping center and looked well, nothing like a museum! Too hangry to concern ourselves just yet, we walked into the building and upon being greeting by the owner, scarfed down our food.

To say this museum sucked would be an understatement. To say the owner was a pretentious douche-bag would also be an understatement. We came to find out no one else was scheduled for a tour so McDouchebag just took us around the ‘museum’ at his leisure randomly quizzing and interrogating us with history and science and our personal life choices. I didn’t know there was going to be a test! I guess McDouchebag finally got tired of his own voice or perhaps finally accepted that we really didn’t give a shit about anything he was saying because he eventually left us to roam around and explore. Sharon and I immediately looked at each in what can only be described as annoyed horror. We didn’t want to stick around. We didn’t want to stay one more minute in the presence of this psychotic but that would be rude and even more uncomfortable than the already statically charged air we were suffocating from. So per our usual tactic, we feigned interest until we could progressively slink ourselves closer and closer to the entrance. Upon almost reaching freedom, McDouchebag bid us his final words of wisdom after relaying how much his shirt cost, of course, and unlocked the front door. Yes, you read that correct. We had been locked in that joint the entire time. Literal escape room from hell! We cringed and shuddered and spiritually cleansed ourselves of the evil on the way back to the car and as I like to re-imagine, sped off like a bat out of hell (except this bat drives extra safe in rentals so this is highly inaccurate).

Traumatized by the underhanded shortcomings of our museum adventure, we found ourselves very pleased to be checking into our hotel early to explore the grounds. Sharon had researched and booked a place by the name of Hotel Parq Central which was a former hospital and psychiatric facility believe to be haunted. It also had a bar on the roof it was famous for on account of the view so win-win! After checking in, we headed to the roof-top bar called Apothecary Lounge for their happy hour as booze was much needed. We medicated with some Angry Orchards and decided to head out for an early dinner at a place I had discovered called Canvas Artistry. After driving and parking down the street from the restaurant, we noticed several cute shops and did a little, quick perusal. Nothing caught our fancy so we headed directly to the restaurant. The joint, while super artsy with tattoo-inspired wall pieces was super dead and our waitress was absolutely terrible. I’ve never seen someone so emotionally removed from human interaction (aside from myself at times but even I attempt to appear otherwise for the sake of formality). In any case, we ordered some chips with an accoutrements of salsa and cheese dips and awaited our entrees. Our food was, as I put things, ‘meh.’ Nothing spectacular. Actually, pretty disappointing. So we headed out and stopped at one final store where Sharon grabbed a mini, sequined sombrero for Bear the cat. After heading back to the hotel, we made another trip to the rooftop bar before the end of happy hour while we waited for a spectacular view of the sunset. Day one: completed!

The next morning we grabbed an early, complimentary breakfast in our hotel lobby and made our way out towads Sante Fe, New Mexico – about an hour north of Albuquerque. Sharon had researched a place called Tinkertown which was on the way to the rest of our Santa Fe festivities so we stopped there first. Aside from the bitter cold of this outdoor ‘exhibit’ which we later discovered was being closed down for the season the very next day (hence the lack of heat), this place was heart-warming! As you make your way through this very unique twists and turns of vintage characters and music, you’re instantly transformed into another dimension! From coin-slotted accordions and fortune-tellers to circus and after-life displays of animated figures to random, inspirational quotes, your mind is engorged on sensory overload! Naturally, the exhibit began and ended in the main entrance area of a gift shop where we met and spoke with a wonderful woman who’s husband, deceased now, hand-crafted every single figure on display! The entire experience was very awe-inspiring to say the least and probably in my top three of our trip endeavors.

Returning to the car for much desired warmth and cranking our Halloween tunes, we continued our way up the ‘Turquoise Trail‘ (as they call it) towards the aforementioned, Meow Wolf! This drive, I cannot stress enough, was the most amazing view of mountain and desert.

Sharon filmed a good portion of our drive on account of just how beautifully peaceful the entire ride was. Naturally we stopped on several occasions for video and photo opts. There truly are no words to do this justice so I wont try. Shortly thereafter, we finally arrived at the Meow Wolf.

–

In hindsight, we really should have scheduled Meow Wolf on a weekday since well, weekends are fairly chaotic for most places of entertainment but alas, this was unfortunately an after thought. Arriving at the entrance, we were met with a long line of families. Sharon, being the resourceful genius she is, immediately jumped on her phone and ordered tickets so we could bypass the chaos in front of us. Bam! Talk about efficiency. Upon grabbing tickets and being given the ‘spiel’ about the venue, we immediately headed to the restrooms which were situated down a long, black light corridor of wall art. I was already in love with this place. Bladders empty, we headed inside.

Nothing can truly prepare you for this experience. It’s confusing and nonsensical and bright and random but in the best possible way. We were told you could follow some sort of ‘story line’ throughout the exhibit but we were also told you could just wander about. We chose the latter which was the less obnoxious way to roam about as you could avoid constantly rubber-necking over other people to read the necessary information. And if I’m totally being honest, the already chaotic nature of the number of people in all areas at all times was super stunting. Ideally, being left alone in the Meow Wolf would truly be a mind trip. Or an awesome music video. Or both, really. But with massive amount of people involved, the magic becomes much less impactful. Still, it did not disappoint.

Departing the Meow Wolf, we made a quick stop at a nearby shopping area by the name of Jackalope. Roaming through aisles and aisles of crafts and arts, Sharon eventually settled on a home-made heart ornament for our Christmas tree. Prize in tow, we next headed to some much desired brunch. Every trip we take, I always research restaurants featured on television shows and this was one of them: Cowgirl Santa Fe. The name is very misleading in that it comes off sounding like a super cheesy, lame place but honestly, the indoor decor was impressively interesting and entailed famous, historic cowgirls. Talk about your girl power. But that wasn’t all. The food? Yes, the food was superb! Stomach’s uncomfortably full, our next activities were the Santa Fe Botanical Gardens and the Georgia O’Keefe Museum.

Once again, I had used the awesome power of Groupon for obtaining tickets for the Santa Fe Botanical Gardens which, in actuality, ended up being one of the saddest thing I had ever seen. And perhaps this wasn’t fair – being from Chicago and all – and the fact that, well, can you really have that high of expectations for a botanical garden when you’re in desert country? Regardless, Sharon and I took a quick, disappointed stroll around (namely to digest our brunch) and questioned the ‘art’ randomly displayed throughout the garden before making our departure. Next on our roster was the vagina museum – I mean, the Georgia O’Keeffee Museum – same difference.

Now I personally don’t know much about Georgia O’Keeffee – other than your basic, vagina painting but Sharon was all about this lady so I walked into this whole thing completely blind. The thing was though, I didn’t see one vagina painting there and I was actually kind of disappointed. The entire museum was more based on other people’s photographs of Georgia O’Keeffee which we both thought was pretty lame. I did take one picture of a butt painting – just to salvage something from our visit. I can’t say I attempted to read or learn anything about Georgia O’Keeffee either but I’m just not a museum person. Bottom line: no vaginas = we’re out!

At this point in our day, we were completely exhausted! Our game-plan had been to hit up a cider house for dinner later but we opted to make a quick stop at a chocolate shop called Kakawa Chocolate House (was ‘meh’) before heading to our hotel, Drury Plaza Hotel. After checking in, we were given complimentary drink tickets for the hotel bar which we utilized shortly thereafter. Upon lounging around our hotel room for several hours – catching up on quality television, we eventually made ourselves decent for dinner at Eloisa situated upstairs. The only drawback to traveling in my opinion is how completely jacked my stomach becomes. Having said that, I wasn’t very hungry due to my stomach’s inability to process the already consumed food so we kept our meal pretty short and simple before heading back to our room.

Our final morning in Santa Fe, New Mexico, we shoved in as many last minute adventures as possible. Grabbing a quick, complimentary breakfast, we immediately headed out for some shopping we had forgone the day before. Following a swing and a miss on that, we headed out to the Santa Fe Brewing Company to try some cider. After arriving at the Santa Fe Brewing Company a tad too early, we walked around the parking lot and eventually noticed the door was open so we wandered inside and warmed ourselves up. Upon being greeting by an employee, we were informed that this was not the correct building and were rerouted across the parking lot to a fenced in building. We came to realize this fence was locked but were finally – after loitering for a moment – admitted to the tasting room area. With three ciders on draft, we requested a (shared) three cider flight and begrudgingly concluded these ciders were not our thing. But alcohol is alcohol! So we choked them down and awaited our reprisal drive down the Turquoise Trail.

After indulging ourselves once again with the amazing view that is the Land of Enchantment (ie New Mexico), we now made our way to our spare of the moment endeavor of visiting an Alpaca Farm! Yes, that’s right! Why an Alpaca? What’s an Alpaca? Who really knows? But they’re animals. Arriving at Hollywick Farms, we parked near a sign that requested we honk upon arrival which I was afraid would spook the animals so I declined. A small, lovely elderly woman emerged from a small shack at the beginning of the gated entrance and bid us to follow her inside. We perused the closeted gift-shop for a few minutes until the elderly woman’s husband, Bill appeared. After brief introductions, Bill took us over to the actual ‘farm’ area to meet and greet the Alpacas. Now this, friends, was one of my most favorite parts of our trip. Not only are these creatures cute and sweet but they’re also a bit strange and hilariously curious. Bill taught us how to exchange a nose kiss with certain Alpacas which was adorably easy. We then met the wonderfully fluffy guard dogs who I, obviously, fell in love with and obsessed over for the remainder of our tour. All in all, a wonderful highlight of our trip!

In continuing our journey and after returning to Albuquerque, New Mexico, we now headed to the Sandia Peak Aerial Tramway. Sharon gets all the credit for researching this one. So basically, you tram up the mountains for about 15 minutes to the top of this absolutely gorgeous view and hang out for however long you desire before heading back either by return tram or hiking! While I, ironically, love roller coasters, there was something much more daunting about the longevity of this escalation. Still, aside from my unwarranted nervousness, the round trip view was astounding! My only request would be the accompaniment of mountain-theme songs during the ride. You know, a little ‘Aint No Mountain High Enough,’ ‘Climb Every Mountain,’ ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King’ – I could go on. Apparently at some point, Sharon caught wind of some famous guy on our tram after hearing someone’s over-excitement at his presence. We have no clue who this guy was. So clearly, he can’t be that awesome.

Our day was scheduled to conclude with some final, light shopping in the downtown area of Albuquerque, New Mexico where we had also planned our final dinner, The Church Street Cafe. After finally finding a wolf-orientated birthday gift for my mother, we grabbed dinner and drinks (which were delicious) and headed to our hotel, Hotel Cascada. Now this hotel was the least fancy of the three and I think it really hit home after feeling posh the previous two nights. Regardless, we were too exhausted to care much and ended our night with some brief television before passing out.

The conclusion of our New Mexico trip was strategically chill. After hitting up our traditional visits to two local Plato’s Closets, Sharon stopped off to grab some new headphones for the plane-ride back and we made one final stop-off for food: Frank’s Famous Chicken & Waffles. Dare I say, this was another Groupon purchase? Yes, I dare. And perhaps we should all learn a good lesson from this. Do not. Trust. The Groupon. At least not for your out of town trips. Having said that, I actually apologized to Sharon after our meal. The restaurant, itself was kinda cute and kitchy but all in all, the food was, once again, ‘meh.’ I do hate to end on a sour note.

In any case, with nothing left on our agenda and feeling already antsy to return home, we made our way to the car rental area early to relieve ourselves of the Mustang (which had sorta grown on me) and headed to the airport. Security lines at the airport were pretty non-existent which allotted us even more time to kill before our flight home. Once situated at our gate, we proceeded to finish watching The Others until being interrupted by a nearby, disabled man needing assistance with his motor-chair. Sharon very obligingly helped the elderly gentleman with his vehicle while I sat and filmed. Back on the plane, we continued our movie viewing and excitedly, arrived back to Chicago earlier than scheduled. After grabbing our baggage from the carousal at Midway, we awaited my parent’s car in the blistering cold of Chicago. And although this city lacks beautiful mountains and serene deserts and nose-kissing Alpacas, I’d trade it all for the the disenchanting traffic noise welcoming me back home.

The Girls Who Cried Meow Wolf It seemed odd and slightly frustrating that every time I mentioned visiting New Mexico to someone, it was met with preposterousness.

0 notes