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thrashkink-coven · 4 months

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Hi all,

Welcome to the last part of my 2024 altar tour! 4/4

What a year it has been! I have learned so much and made so many new friends! My altar has always been a reflection of my psyche, seeing it’s beauty reminds me of the beauty that exists within me. :)

So this is my final little work space where I do pendulum magick and tarot readings. There is a devotional mug to Lord Lucifer which I use for our morning coffee chats. There is also Lucifer’s devotional dragon statue, as well as the dual scrying mirror for him and Faviel.

There is a normal mirror and a statue of a pharaoh’s tomb. The board which the flowers and offerings are placed on dawns Faviel’s sigil and candle. To Faviel I have offered a palm stone, flowers, an acorn, smoky quartz, some black earrings, and some grubs.

Beside him is my pendulum in a selenite charging bowl along with my pendulum mat.

The black and white image you see was a piece of art I made for Archangel Jophiel after he gifted me a vision a year or so ago. I use it whenever I’m reaching out to him.

Beneath my altar is some space for storage where I keep my larger cauldron, mortar and pestle, larger candles, etc. There is also my stand where I keep my broom, fire poker, and shovel. My witch broom is wrapped in a protective seal. I use it to sweep ash from my prayer mat.

And finally, here are a few of the books I have in my collection that have greatly greatly aided me in my craft. Remember to do your research my dears!

The Arbatel of Magick- First English edition 1633, new edition 2013, edited by Earl Marwick

Healing with Form, Energy, and Light- Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche

Gods and Goddesses- Hallam, Elizabeth

The Lesser Key of Solomon- S.L MacGregor Mathers and Aleister Crowley

The Dictionary of Alchemy- Diana Fernando

The Art of Angels- Howard Loxton

Backland’s Book of Spirit Communications- Raymond Buckland

Transcendental Magick- Éliphas Lévi

The Greater Key of Solomon- S.L MacGregor Mathers

A History of God- Karen Armstrong

A Dictionary of Angels, Including Fallen Angels- Gustav Davidson

Making Talismans- Nick Farrell

The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses- Johann Scheibel

The Egyptian Book of the Dead

The Rise and Fall of the Nephilim- Scott Alan Roberts

Buckland’s Complete Book of Witchcraft- Raymond Buckland

Candle Burning Rituals- Raymond Buckland

The Complete Book of Black Magick and Witchcraft

Green Witchcraft, Folk Magick, Fairy Lore & Herb Craft- Ann Moura

The Book of Forbidden Knowledge, Black Magick, Superstition, Charms and Divination- First Edition 1910s Johnson Smith & co. New Edition 2016 edited by Earl Marwick

Three Books of Occult Philosophy- Henry Cornelius Agrippa

and of course, The Holy Bible- New Living Translation.

I have many other books in my collection on tarot and astrology in my living room, but these are the books that have had the greatest impact on my craft. Here are a few of those other ones:

Love Potions- Tatania Hardie

The Book of Destinies- Jane Struthers

The Crystal Bible 2- Judy Hall

The Tarot Bible- Sarah Barlett

The Wicca Bible- Ann Marie Gallagher

Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs- Scott Cunningham

Magic and Medicine of Plants- Reader’s Digest

The Power of Birthdays Stars and Numbers- Saffi Crawford and Geraldine Sullivan

The Witches’ Goddess- Janet and Stewart Farrar

The Witches’ God- Janet and Stewart Farrar

•••

I wanted to end this tour off with my reading material because I want to emphasize how important it is to understand that “magick” is not just “stuff”.

I really enjoy all of my magical tools and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with having and wanting pretty things or an aesthetically pleasing altar. In fact I believe aesthetic and care are acts of love in themselves. Don’t ever let someone shame you for wanting to decorate and indulge in the aesthetics of your craft.

But please do remember that our greatest magical tool is our minds, our senses, and our experiences- our brains. Remember to read read read lots of material from many different sources. Contemplate honestly on everything you read, hear and experience. Do not take everything you believe today as a fact, do not box yourself in to anything. (Maybe that’s the Luciferian in me speaking lol)

Learn how to do magick alone, without any tools. My magick is not my stuff, although my stuff greatly aids me in my magick. Does that make sense?

Thank you so much for reading! I look forward to growing and learning so much more this year! :)

Blessed be!

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ebongawk · 2 months

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oooh hellcheer hc is that eddie goes into fully nurse mode whenever chrissy’s sick. she has a cold? he’s fussing over her, making soup from scratch thank you very much bc he’s actually a great cook. cramps? he buys out her favorite chocolate from the corner store, he’s got three different types of heat packs ready, he’ll massage her belly for hours if that’s what it takes to make her feel better

Here's the thing: Chrissy was never home when Eddie got out of the studio on Wednesdays.

Wednesdays were their short days. The band's self-proclaimed 'recharge' days. The midweek break they all pretended to need that they'd written into their contracts so the fucking producer wouldn't throw a fit when Jeff dipped out at eleven to go meet his girlfriend at the train station, because Marie was in Boston Saturday night through Wednesday morning for work.

Eddie usually wandered in after a fast food lunch and a grocery run around one o'clock. Chrissy wasn't even off most days until four. So when he walked in the front door and was greeted with the curdling scream of horror queen Janet Leigh on the tube?

Yeah, Eddie about had a heart attack. Like full-on hand-over-the-heart terror.

"Sorry," Chrissy croaked from the couch as she frantically turned the volume of her vintage horror flick down. Psycho. Classic. Eddie hadn't even noticed her, she was so bundled up in blankets. A Chrissy burrito that could've passed for a rumpled throw blanket. "Sorry, sorry. You came in at the worst part."

Shit, she sounded awful.

"That's my specialty," Eddie breathed, dropping the excess number of grocery bags in the foyer and tripping over his own feet to make it to her side. "What's up, buttercup? How come you're home so early?"

Shit, she looked awful. All curled up and shivering despite the throw around her shoulders and the duvet she'd dragged in from their bedroom. Eddie automatically put a hand on her forehead, hissing at the burn beneath his palm.

"Think I caught the bug that's been going around on the publishing floor," Chrissy said, covering her mouth with the throw as she talked. Trying to breathe on him as little as possible. But her sinuses were so full, he doubted she could take in any air from her nose. "Editors were next, I knew it, but everyone insisted it'd stay quarantined upstairs."

"Morons," Eddie huffed, eyes raking over her face. Her blotchy, feverish cheeks; her bloodshot eyes ringed in the purple bruises of exhaustion. Her lips were dry, and Eddie sighed, hopping up and pressing a kiss to her forehead that she protested.

"You're gonna get infected," she grumbled. Eddie just shrugged, more firmly wrapping her up in her blankets.

"Did you take anything?"

"Grabbed some cold medicine from the pharmacy that's next to the office," she said, still covering her mouth. Exhaling a couple of rough coughs into the fabric. "Probably should've eaten something, but nothing sounds good."

Her sentences were choppy and slurred, which was how Eddie knew that this was serious. Having majored in English at BU, Chrissy's articulation refined to a fucking knife's point over the years. Ready to stab anyone who looked at her with a modicum of doubt when she explained what she did for a living.

His poor little Supervising Editor.

"Alright," Eddie said, hopping to his feet and pressing another kiss to her crown – this one not quite as protested as the first – before he rounded the couch to collect the grocery haul he'd bought that was entirely inadequate for a sick Chrissy. "Lemme get some water in the kettle, yeah? I'll make you some ginger tea and run to the bodega for soup supplies."

"Love, really, I'm fine––"

"Don't you I'm fine me, Cunningham," he called from the kitchen. Even though her last name had been Munson for damn near five years now. He loved the dopey little smile she still got when he reprimanded her with her maiden name. The eye roll. The huff of, That's Munson to you, Mister.

The huff never came this time. She was too tired to argue, he knew.

He started some prep work for what they had on hand while the water heated up. Mincing up a metric fuckton of garlic, grabbing some chicken breast from the fridge, grating most of a knob of ginger. They had some frozen chicken wing tips, but Eddie wasn't sure he had the time or patience to make broth from scratch. He mentally added store bought shit to his list, along with spinach and carrots.

Once her tea was ready, Eddie departed after stealing another kiss – this one to her cheek, which she yelled at him for as well as she was able and which he laughed at when her voice broke.

Another forty-five minutes later, after hauling ass to the store and back, Eddie had soup simmering on the stove, orange juice in the fridge, and three other types of medicine lined up along the coffee table to be taken after she'd eaten.

"I should go to the bedroom," Chrissy sighed as Eddie exchanged her empty mug of tea for a glass of juice. "Give you veg space so I don't get you sick."

Eddie scoffed. He'd grabbed The Two Towers from their nightstand, carefully depositing it on the arm of the couch before gently easing Chrissy's juice from her hands. He crouched down in front of her, leveling her with as withering a stare as he could muster around the worry he could feel lining his face.

"What kind of husband do you think I am, sweetness? To abandon his queen in her most desperate times of need?" She rolled her eyes, cheeks turned up in a slight smile. Eddie grinned, reaching up to pinch her cheek. Broadening her smile as much as she was able. "My fair lady needs her noble knight's assistance now more than ever! I ain't just gonna abandon you to squalor, baby. You know better than that."

She made a little noise of distress, and Eddie knew it was because she was terrified of getting him sick. Even though he played backup to Jeff, fucking his vocals could fuck the whole timeline for their next album.

He couldn't have given less of a fuck.

Tucking the blanket more firmly around her, Eddie carefully wedged his arms under her slight body, hoisting her up with a cracked little squeal from her raw throat before settling himself lengthwise on the couch, Chrissy in his lap.

"Eddie––"

"Shh, baby," he said, grabbing the book behind him and opening up to the bookmark. Picking up where they'd left off the last time he lulled her to sleep, just the night before, when she'd still been perfectly healthy. Harboring this bit of sick down deep enough that her body was still attempting to fight it off.

His voice, she'd told him once, was her favorite lullaby.

"So it was," he began to read, "that in the light of a fair morning, King Theoden and Gandalf the White Rider met again on green grass beside the Deeping-stream."

An hour later, Chrissy was out like a light. Breathing deeply through her mouth, with a little dribble of drool spilling onto his shirt and making him chuckle. He leaned down, kissing her hair and brushing it back over her ear.

"My poor little peach," he murmured, pressing the words into her scalp. The scent of ginger and garlic wafted through the air, and Eddie knew he should extricate himself from her embrace. Slip into the kitchen and turn the stove off.

But Chrissy let out this scratchy little snore, and Eddie figured he could give her another half hour.

"Love you, sweet," he said. And by the way she hummed in her slumber, snuggling even closer against his chest until her ear was pressed right up against her heart, Eddie thought, fuck, maybe she'd heard him.

(inspo ask)

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #stranger things #chrissy x eddie #my writing #hellcheer drabble #sickness #I feel it tho bc I've been battling a stupid cold all week #where the heck is my Eddie to make me soup and cuddle me?#cunninghamchrissie

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flowerytale · 1 year

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What are your favourite books.

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh Dracula by Bram Stoker Just Kids by Patti Smith White Oleander by Janet Fitch The Virgin Suicides/Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides Atonement by Ian McEwan Emma by Jane Austen A Breath of Life by Clarice Lispector White Is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi Rest & Be Thankful by Emma Glass The Waves by Virginia Woolf Little Women by Louisa May Alcott The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald Great Expectations by Charles Dickens Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays by Christa Wolf Another Country by James Baldwin Frankenstein by Mary Shelley The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay The Hours by Michael Cunningham Carmilla by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

#in no particular order #and many more #ask #anonymous

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gladstones-corner · 2 months

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Glad's Book List

I wrote a post recently about my history (normally I'd link it but I don't want to be narcissistic), and realized that I've read a fair few occult books over the years. So here's the list; I'll keep updating it as I find more books in my various libraries and book stashes.

Quick note before getting into this list--not everything I've read will make it. Just the stuff I read and recommend others parse through. For example, I have intentionally omitted my studies in Kabbalah to discourage others from unintentionally appropriating.

But by "parse through", I truly mean that. My path has meandered through several schools of thought and wandered into appropriative territory at times (I constantly strive to correct any appropriation in my practice that gets brought to my attention). Maybe about 20% of each book makes it into my current path.

Eh, so it wasn't so quick of a note. Here's the list:

CEREMONIAL MAGIC

Aleister Crowley, Book 4

Chic and Sandra Cicero, Essential Golden Dawn

Donald Kraig, Modern Magick

Henry Agrippa, Three Books of Occult Philosophy

Israel Regardie, The Golden Dawn

Lon Milo DuQuette, Llewellyn's Complete Book of Ceremonial Magick

Samuel Mathers, The Book of Abramelin

Stephen Skinner and David Rankine, Key of Solomon

CHAOS MAGIC

Archtraitor Bluefluke, The Psychonaut Field Manual

Jan Fries, Visual Magick

Lon Milo DuQuette, Low Magick

Peter Carroll, Liber Null & Psychonaut; Liber Kaos

Phil Hine, Condensed Chaos; Prime Chaos

Richard Metzger, Book of Lies

Robert Wilson, Prometheus Rising

CRYSTALS

Cassandra Eason, The Complete Crystal Handbook

Karen Frazier, An Introduction to Crystal Grids

Robert Simmons and Naisha Ahsian, The Book of Stones

Scott Cunningham, Encyclopedia of Crystal, Gem, and Metal Magic

Yulia van Doren, Crystals

DIVINATION

A.E. Waite, Pictorial Key to the Tarot

Brigit Esselmont, Everyday Tarot; The Ultimate Guide to Tarot Meanings

Chic and Sandra Cicero, Golden Dawn Ritual Tarot

Diana Paxson, Taking Up the Runes

Lon Milo DuQuette, Understanding Crowley's Thoth Tarot

Melissa Cynova, Kitchen Table Tarot

Rachel Pollack, Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom

DREAMS

Carl Jung, Dreams; The Red Book

DRUIDRY

Dana O'Driscoll, Sacred Actions

John Greer, The Druidry Handbook; The Druid Magic Handbook

Philip Carr-Gomm, The Druid Way

Ross Nichols, The Book of Druidry

HELLENISM

David Mierzwicki, Hellenismos

Hesiod, Theogeny

Homer, Iliad; Odyssey

John Opsopaus, The Oracles of Apollo

LABRYS Community, Hellenic Polytheism

Orpheus, The Orphic Hymns

HERBS

Nicholas Culpeper, Culpeper's Complete Herbal

Scott Cunningham, Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs

HERMETICISM

Hermes Trismegistus, Corpus Hermeticum; The Emerald Tablet

Three Initiates, The Kybalion

GENERAL MAGIC

Aleister Crowley, Magic in Theory and Practice

Christopher Dell, The Occult, Witchcraft and Magic

Manly Hall, Secret Teachings of All Ages

Owen Davies, Oxford Illustrated History of Witchcraft and Magic

Rock Point Publishing, Spellcraft

Sarah Lyons, How to Study Magic

MEDITATION

Diana Paxson, Trance Portation

Stephen Bodian, Meditation for Dummies

PAGANISM

Herman Slater, A Book of Pagan Rituals

Margot Adler, Drawing Down the Moon

Ronald Hutton, Triumph of the Moon

WICCA

Doreen Valiente, Witchcraft for Tomorrow

Gerald Gardner, The Meaning of Witchcraft; Witchcraft Today

Janet and Stewart Farrar, A Witches' Bible

Raymond Buckland, Buckland's Complete Book of Witchcraft; The Tree; Wicca for One

Scott Cunningham, Wicca; Living Wicca

Starhawk, The Spiral Dance

Thea Sabin, Wicca for Beginners

Thorn Mooney, Traditional Wicca

#glad's thoughts #occult books

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garadinervi · 1 year

Photo

Ruth Asawa, January 24, 1926 / 2023

(image: Imogen Cunningham (photograph), Ruth Asawa, (gelatin silver print), 1956. SFMOMA, San Francisco, CA. Gift of Janet and Gryff Partridge. © The Imogen Cunningham Trust)

#art #photography #ruth asawa #birthday anniversary #imogen cunningham #imogen cunningham trust #sfmoma #1920s #1950s #2020s

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 2 years

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My Girl | Eddie Munson x Cunningham!reader

Requested by anon / Summary: You may be Chrissy’s twin sister, but are the complete opposite and not the cheerleading type. However, even though you may be his girlfriend’s sister, you still associate yourself with Eddie and the “satanic worship group,” Hellfire, placing a target on your back. Eddie? He can handle the scrutiny, but as soon as you mess with his girl, game over. Jason pushes Eddie’s buttons by messing with you. #protective Eddie

A/N: I hope you enjoy this! Thank you for requesting x Eddie Munson would definitely call you “my girl.” If you don’t agree, I’m sorry. but I can see it.

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} closed

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

Being the twin sister of most popular girl at Hawkin’s High School, you were always living beneath Chrissy’s shadow. Chrissy was drop dead beautiful, with perfect hair, the perfect body and she was always a happy, bubbly persona. She cheered, worried about what people thought of her, obsessed over boys and listened to Madonna, Stevie Nicks & Janet Jackson.

You on the other hand? Your parents described you as someone with a dark cloud always looming over them. You dressed in dark clothes, converse and you never cared about what your hair looked like, usually throwing it up in a messy pony tail or braided back. As long as it was out of your face, you didn’t care. You took on chess club, usually hung out with the boys more than girls; girls were drama. And you listened to metal; Metallica, iron maiden & black sabbath.

The music choice was a dead give away of how different you and Chrissy were. She was dating the most popular guy in school. They were destined to be high school sweet hearts. You thought he was a stuck up snob who liked to bounce balls and throw them through laundry baskets.

That’s where you and Eddie clicked. He didn’t know why he hadn’t every noticed you before. You were him, in a female’s body. He guesses because you were Chrissy Cunningham’s twin sister, you were always in her shadow and it was assumed you were the same as her.

So, when Dustin and Mike came to him at lunch, going on about how Lucas couldn’t make it to Hellfire tonight, could they get a stand in, the last person he expected to walk through those doors was you.

He sat high upon his thrown, ready to begin. “Cunningham?” He asks, standing to greet you at the end of the table. “Is this some kind of joke, you dweebs?” He fires the question at the two boys standing beside you.

“She’s the best of the best. Well, i mean she’s good enough to stand in for Lucas. I wouldn’t say she’s the best-”

You elbow Dustin in the ribs for the insult and he corrects himself, “Okay fine she is the best.” He mumbles.

You’d grown up around these two, babysitting them for multiple summers and it was over the last couple years, they showed you how to play D&D where you surpassed them both.

Eddie takes the moment to give you the look over. Was he sure he wasn’t looking in the mirror? He easily stood a foot over you, enough that you had to stare up at him, “Let’s see what you’ve got Cunningham.”

You showed him and the other boys of Hellfire up that night. At the end of the game as everyone was leaving, you were headed to your car when Eddie caught up to you.

“Cunningham!��

You turned to him, slowing down, “What’s up?”

Eddie scratched his head, “Look we don’t usually do this, but you’re a great team player.”

You smirked at him, he was skeptical when you’d walked into the room. You could see it written all over his face, “Eddie Munson, are you asking me to join your little club?” You teased.

He lips formed a smile, “It’s called Hellfire and it’s the most prestigious club here at Hawkins High. You should be honored that I’m even asking you!”

You both fell into laughter together and that’s where your relationship, well, bloomed.

You all were laughing as Eddie read the magazine about how dangerous D&D was for young minds. His voice was dramatic as he told the story, “We’re the freaks because we like to play a fantasy game.”

You leaned back in your chair wearing your hellfire shirt and Eddie’s jean jacket. He sat at the end of the table as leader, with you on his right. Dustin and Mike took the seat next to you.

“but as long as you’re into band-” He jumped up on the lunch table, where you scolded him, “Eddie!”

He sent you his signature smile, “Or science, or parties... or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!”

You see Jason stand, Chrissy sitting next him. Her eyes met yours and she shook her head. You were still her sister, but she didn’t like who you’d associated yourself with. Only because her boyfriend told her how dangerous this would make you. You could become suicidal, a satanic worshipper or worse a murderer.

You’d rolled your eyes at her and told her she was naive and stupid to believe what came out of Jason’s mouth. Did she really think her sister would become something like that? Chrissy had denied it and said you were right. but that didn’t stop Jason from placing a target on your back and the other hellfire “Freaks.”

“You want something freak?” Jason called out, already heading toward the table.

Eddie stuck his tongue out, making devil horns on the top of his head.

Jason rolled his eyes, muttering, “prick.” Before sitting back down.

Eddie headed back toward the table, plopping back down in the seat. You leaned forward in your chair, “He already thinks we’re crazy, don’t antagonize him even more.” You were always worried Jason and his buddies would single Eddie out one day after school and jump him. Eddie would always reassure you with a shrug, “let them.” He wasn’t scared of them.

He leaned in toward you, “because we are crazy,” his lips form a smile, which of course makes you smile. He kisses you, grossing out the rest of the table, and he waves them off with the middle finger.

The next day at lunch as you and Eddie, along with Mike and Dustin were heading back to the table when Jason ran into Eddie on purpose, “Watch where you’re going freak!”

Eddie didn’t want to partake in the bait and had kept walking, but Jason wanted a fight.

He grabbed Eddie’s shoulder, forcing him to turn around, “I said watch where you’re going freak!”

“Dude, calm down.” Eddie held his arms out, showing he wasn’t wanting any part of this.

“Jason, calm the hell down and walk away.” You say from beside Eddie.

“Watch your mouth.” He snaps pointing his finger at you in a condescending way. You hated when people did that to you, it made you feel like a child. You especially didn’t like it coming from men.

You slap his hand out of your face, “Get the fuck out of my face.”

Jason let go of Eddie, making you his next target. He flexes his chest, stepping toward you, “psychotic bitch.” He roughly grabs your arm and Eddie is quick to intervene. If they wanted a fight, they could come to him, he’d welcome it with a smile, but lay a finger on his girl, it’s over.

It happened in a flash, Eddie shoved Jason, punching first. Jason managed to throw a punch before Eddie threw another. The cafeteria surrounded you all, chanting “fight fight fight!”

You tried to stop the fight before any teachers made their appearance, grabbing Eddie by the arm, “Eddie! Eddie stop it!” You knew he would be expelled if he was caught and you weren’t going to let that happen. He was going graduate with you.

Eddie pointed a finger at Jason, who was laid on the ground with a bloody nose. Eddie’s chest was heaving, he was angry and you’d never seen him get angry. “You touch her again, I won’t stop.” He turned around to the crowd, “That goes for any of you assholes too!”

You practically dragged Eddie out of the cafeteria, ushering him into a nearby bathroom, “Are you crazy, Eddie Munson!”

He plopped down on one of the toilet seats, steadying his breathing. His lip was busted and he had a bloody nose. His knuckles and rings were stained with Jason’s blood.

“Possibly.”

You groan, wetting a paper towel, “You could have gotten expelled!”

“for defending my girl? Worth it.”

“Eddie!” You scold, gently wiping the blood from his nose. He lets you, wincing only when you made it to his lip.

For a moment, it’s quiet between the two of you. His knuckles gently caresses the place where Jason had grabbed you, “Are you okay?”

“What?” You asked confused, glancing at where his knuckles are, “oh that? Eddie, I’m fine.”

“If there’s a bruise there tomorrow I’m going-” “What are you going to do Eddie, beat him up again? Get yourself expelled? Not graduate?”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping. He mumbles an apology.

You sigh softly, how could you stay mad at him? He was only protecting you.“Thank you. For defending me.”

His big doe eyes stare up at you, “I will always,” He stands, towering over you and places his hands on your hips, “And I mean always, defend you.” He brushes a stray hair off your forehead, “No one touches my girl.”

Eddie Munson definitely calls his girl, “My Girl.” I’m sorry if you disagree. But I believe he does.

Comments, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Thanks for the read! x

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seikointelli · 3 months

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To hunt and Nick

How does it feel that people ship you together and forget that you have gfs?

Hunt: It happens to the best of us so I don't care.

Nick: Its weird. And i'm not sure if Hunt and Janet are a thing anymore. They seem really on-off.

#final destination #the final destination #hunt wynorski #nick o'bannon #lori milligan #janet cunningham

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delucadarlingwriting · 8 months

Text

Have Her Cake and Eat It - Part 2

Though I won't be doing one big edit/revision on this fic until the whole of Book 1's scene are done, I am still combing through each part a few days before posting. This has had the unfortunate side effect of making it all look like mush to me after a while, so I have to thank @crownleys as ever for being the best beta reader EVER. Beta reader/sounding board/emotional support artist/etc etc etc

Summary: Barbie's misgivings about working with the Agency only increase when she meets two of Unit Bravo's four members.

Word Count: 3,445

Last Part | Next Part

***

[Barbie POV, Janet Greenland’s apartment building, interviewing Trevor Cunningham]

The apartment building they pull up to is just a few blocks away from the town square. It’s a red brick building with a few bike racks in the front, and a gated parking lot in the back. Barbie parks on the street, hoping that any patrolling officers will know it’s her car and not ticket her. Kira cuts a look at her, but says nothing as they get out of the car and hurry into the building’s lobby. It’s small, but clean, and very nearly empty.

Waiting near the doors are two men, both looking straight to Kira with clear recognition. Both are tall, though one is extremely so, probably nearing six and a half feet tall. He wears a warm smile and fashionable, if casual, clothes. She recognizes the jeans as designer, and his button up shirt is tailored perfectly to his lean torso, noticeable despite the fine brown leather jacket he wears on top.

The other man is roughly Barbie’s height in heels, though he’s slouching against the wall. He has long, nearly black hair that frames his face in choppy, artful waves. Freckles spray out over his face and hands. He’s also wearing a leather jacket, but in black, and the rest of his clothes are relatively lowkey. Dark jeans, dark boots, and a dark t-shirt. He has a few leather cords around his neck that are tucked beneath the shirt. The clothes are fairly baggy, but it’s still clear he’s the broader of the two, built like an off-season linebacker.

If the other two agents on her team are of the same stature, poor Kira must feel positively miniature.

“Kira,” the taller one says brightly, approaching the women with an open expression. His smile could knock Barbie flat on her rear if it were aimed her way, but Kira stands strong against it. He has dark, wavy brown hair styled back with a meticulous carelessness from his warm, brown eyes. A faint trace of stubble accentuates the sharp shape of his jaw.

The other man approaches as well, though stays a few steps back. Despite his size, his boots make a shocking lack of noise against the tiles of the lobby. He looks to Kira first as well, but he notices Barbie. His shockingly grey eyes meet hers and she has to suck in a hard breath at the jolt of lightning it sends through her. It’s a relief when he looks away, uninterested.

“Nate, Mason,” Kira says, reaching back to usher Barbie closer. With barely a couple of feet between them now it makes how tall these two are all the more obvious. She has to look up while Kira is steadfastly refusing to crane her head back to do the same. Kira’s hand lands on Barbie’s arm in a friendly manner. “This is Detective Barbara Robertson. Barbie, this is Agent Nate Sewell,” Kira says, indicating the taller man.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Agent Sewell says, and yep, Barbie’s knees certainly go weak at the smile he gives her. She manages to keep her footing, if only barely. He offers a hand and for a thrilling moment as Barbie places her own in it, she wonders if he plans to kiss her knuckles. She has no such luck though, even if the slight pressure from his squeezing her is enough to make her pulse race.

The other man snorts and rolls his eyes, though for what reason, Barbie can’t be sure. Kira clears her throat at him and says, “And this is Specialist Agent Mason.”

The lack of a surname is interesting. Odd. She doesn’t know what to think of it, or of him. She wonders if she ought to refer to him as Specialist Agent Mason, Agent Mason, or just Mason.

“...Nice to meet you,” she says, hesitantly offering her hand to him. He just eyes it, like he’s never heard of a handshake before. Barbie curls her fingers back against her palm and lets her hand fall back to her side. His gaze drops down from her face, and she instinctively reaches up to touch the pink sapphire pendant necklace she always wears. It’s only as she does so that she also realizes the neckline on her blouse is rather low today.

“Mason,” Kira growls. The specialist agent growls back, though not before throwing a smirk at Barbie.

She has never been in a setting where coworkers growled at one another so much. She isn’t sure how she’s going to like this partnership.

Agent Sewell gives an awkward laugh and gestures for the elevator. “Shall we get to it? You mentioned wanting to interview someone close to the victim, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Barbie says, a sour twist to her mouth. Mason seems to have already forgotten she’s there. Fine, she can handle a poor attitude so long as it isn’t directed toward her. She tugs her blazer into place and tries to adjust her neckline a little higher before gesturing for the elevator. “Shall we?”

A million questions flitter through Barbie’s mind as the four of them squeeze into the elevator—Agent Sewell in particular actually needing to duck to enter—all regarding just what these agents are really here to do. They don’t look like her image of any sort of agent. Not just their outfits, but…well, she can’t help noticing they’re extremely attractive. She expected them to look plain. Older too. Barbie has to resist wetting her lips, lest she smudge her lipstick.

With some effort, she stops staring at them and gets her mind back on track.

“I’ve never heard much about what the Agency does,” Barbie says as the elevator doors slide shut. It’s an old elevator, still on a chain system rather than hydraulic, and it rattles to life in an alarming manner. She does her best to subtly shift toward the wall and grabs the hand rail.

Kira gives a short laugh. “Well, that’s by design. We can be a secretive bunch.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever heard of the Agency working with local law enforcement either,” Barbie says pointedly. Kira’s gaze drops to the badge on Barbie’s belt. Then she looks at her coworkers.

Seeming to pick up on Kira’s need, Agent Sewell says, “We don’t often find it necessary, but we are very much looking forward to working with you, Detective.”

“Oh,” Barbie says, stunned into a stupid sort of silence. She knows she’s being flattered. That doesn’t stop it from working, particularly coming from a handsome man with a voice as smooth as hot butter.

The elevator shutters to a stop and the doors slide open. Fifth floor. They proceed out, Barbie leading the way. Mason pauses at the one just before it, nostrils flaring.

“Isn’t this the woman’s place?” he asks. Barbie checks the number against what she remembers from Janet Greenland’s file.

“I believe so,” she says, even though she’s certain of it. “Did you read the file as well?”

“What? No.” Mason blinks, looks over Barbie’s shoulder, then grimaces. “I mean yes.”

“...Right.” Barbie scrutinizes him, then turns back to look at Kira and Agent Sewell. Both are wearing pleasantly neutral expressions. It definitely puts her back in the shoes of her highschool self, always made fun of by the other girls without exactly knowing how she was being made fun of. Dusting her sleeves off, she says, “Well, it is Janet Greenland’s apartment, but we’ve done a sweep of her apartment already. We’re here to talk to her neighbor.” She can’t help the edge to her voice at the fact that he apparently didn’t already know that. Again, she questions just what kind of organization this Agency really is with agents like this.

Mason nods, though he’s still looking at the apartment door. Agent Sewell puts a hand on his shoulder and says, “We haven’t had much of a chance to go over any physical evidence ourselves. It might be a good idea for our team to come by and do our own sweep?”

“Fine. It couldn’t hurt,” Barbie says, waving them off and continuing on until she reaches the correct door. Kira stands right at her side, back ramrod straight and determined like she’s about to step onto a balance beam. Barbie takes a deep breath, reminds herself she’s done this before, and raps her knuckles against the door three times.

Nothing happens. Barbie grimaces; Tina has always made comments on her weak knock. Kira glances up at her.

“Mind if I try?” she asks. Barbie gestures for her to go ahead, stepping back. Kira takes Barbie’s place and knocks on the door using the side of her fist, the sound loud enough that it rattles the door on its hinges.

“Think they heard?” Mason asks. Agent Sewell rolls his eyes, but presses his lips against a smile.

From inside, there’s a sudden clatter and a call of, “Just a moment officer!”

Barbie looks down, impressed. Kira shrugs self-consciously.

“Most people don’t take me too seriously on looks alone, so I have to make up for it in other ways,” she says, gesturing to her five foot flat self. Barbie shakes her head.

“Foolish of them, clearly.” Barbie moves back to Kira’s side, though she can’t help noticing that she’s now on the side and not front and center when the door swings open.

A young man stands in front of them, probably early 20s, with wavy blonde hair pulled into a tight puff of a ponytail. There’s a bandana around his forehead, his shirt is covered in wet spots, and he’s got a dirty rag tucked into the waistband of his ratty sweats. He looks mortified the moment he realizes he’s got an entourage at his door.

“Oh goodness,” he squeaks, eyes darting to Barbie. “Officer Poname mentioned you might come around Barbara, but I didn’t know you were bringing other people.”

Barbie blinks, raising a brow at his familiarity. “Have we met?”

His face goes from pink to red. “Er, not as such.”

“Trevor Cunningham?” Kira cuts in, pulling everyone back to the task at hand. The blond man nods, eyes wide. She adds a smile to soften her words. “I’m Agent Kingston, these are my colleagues Agent Sewell and Specialist Agent Mason. You already know Detective Robertson.” She puts a subtle emphasis on Barbie’s title, which she appreciates. “We’re here to talk about the recent murder of your neighbor, Janet Greenland. Is now a good time?”

“Is there really a good time for such things?” he asks.

Agent Sewell steps up then, a sympathetic frown on his face. “No, there isn’t. Still, we hope to resolve this problem as quickly as possible, so she might see some justice served. Would you be willing to assist us in that?”

The poor man looks ready to have a stroke. Clearly he’s of a weak constitution. She can only hope Agent Sewell doesn’t whip him into such a stupor that he can’t answer their questions. Luckily, he ends up nodding and holding the door further open.

“O-Of course! Please, come in,” he says.

They all proceed into a living room that is far too small for the number of people suddenly in it. The couch won’t hold them all, but Mason seems far more content to go skulk on the far side of the room, facing Trevor. Agent Sewell sits on one side of Trevor, angling towards him, while Barbie offers the last seat to Kira, far preferring to keep a little personal space for this.

Once everyone is settled, all eyes fall on Barbie. It’s a little surprising, considering how easily Kira had stepped up before, but she doesn’t hesitate for long. She pulls a fliptop notebook out of her belt, going through the pages until she gets to the questions she’s been jotting down for this case since it began. Trevor starts to fidget before she can start speaking.

“How long have you known Janet Greenland?” Barbie asks. Trevor shakes his head.

“Gosh, barely a few weeks. She only moved in at the beginning of the month, you know, on that day we had all that slush. It was just her and a big rented moving truck. She was trying to move all her stuff on her own, and I felt so bad for her.” Trevor shakes his head. “Poor thing, I didn’t ask, but it was pretty clear she didn’t have any friends to ask for help.”

“Funny, on her salary I’d have assumed she could hire movers,” Barbie says. Trevor curves an eyebrow.

“I don’t think funny is the word I’d use,” he says, tone considerably cooled. “And anyway, I never asked about her salary.”

Barbie blinks. She’s said something wrong. Damn. That didn’t take long.

“I don’t think the detective means any offense,” Agent Sewell says with a gentle smile. “In these kinds of cases, anything that seems strange is worth noting.”

“Generally not aloud though,” Barbie adds. She still isn’t sure what exactly she said to bother Trevor, but that doesn’t really matter, so she says, “I’m sorry. I’ll stick to just the questions.”

Trevor nods. “That’s alright. I think I’m just a bit testy. I’d really hoped to make friends with her.”

That tugs at Barbie’s heartstrings. She can only imagine how strange it must feel to be in his shoes, mourning someone he didn’t know but wanted to.

“Did you speak with her after she moved in?” Barbie asks. Trevor nods.

“Yes. I mean, I spent most of the afternoon helping her move in, to start,” Trevor says with a little laugh. “But then I made it a point to knock on her door and offer her whatever I had extra for dinner, or whatever sweets I’d baked lately.”

“Were the two of you ever involved physically?” Barbie asks. Everyone else chokes for a moment, except for Mason, who snorts and leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

“I don’t think that’s a problem here, sweetheart,” he says.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Trevor sputters. Mason just looks at him blankly.

Agent Sewell sighs. “Please ignore him.”

Notably, while Agent Sewell is placating Trevor, Kira is making pointed eye contact with Mason. They seem to be holding some sort of silent conversation that ends in Kira nodding briefly before settling back in her seat. It clicks then that Mason and Agent Sewell had held similar eye contact just a moment earlier. Barbie shifts her weight, wondering what it is the three of them are communicating to one another, and how well they must know one another to do so without words.

“I just don’t see the relevance in a question like that,” Trevor says. He glances at Mason. “And for the record, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I couldn’t sleep with a woman if I wanted to.”

“That’s true. My brother never was picky about his partners,” Barbie says without thinking.

“Lucas?!” Kira and Trevor exclaim in unison. Kira recovers herself quickly, though her cheeks are undeniably pink.

“You know my brother?” Barbie asks Trevor. Trevor waves her off, clearly embarrassed.

“That’s not—Not recently.” Trevor puts his face in his hands and groans. “Next question?”

“But you didn’t say—” Barbie stops herself when Agent Sewell gives her a look. He smiles, sweet at honey, and makes a small hand turning gesture; let’s move on.

It’s irritating, because she wants to know more. Every little clue could lead to a connection later down the line. But he’s right. She’s probably pushed her luck far enough for one day. With that in mind, she throws a whole page of questions out, doubting Trevor will have much patience left for them at this point.

“When was the last time you saw Janet?” Barbie asks. Trevor frowns, his expression as low down as a bloodhound.

“The morning she disappeared,” he says. With a shake of his head, he adds, “I was getting in as she was heading out. We said good morning to one another and that was it.”

“Had Janet mentioned, um…” Barbie trails off, distracted by how Kira and Agent Sewell are both intensely looking at Mason, while he has his silvery gaze locked onto Trevor. His gives a stiff nod after a moment, and the other two visibly relax. Poor Trevor seems off put by this treatment as well. He glances at Barbie, but she has no answer to offer him, only a questioning look of her own.

Agent Sewell looks up at her, so suddenly that it startles her. He smiles, but there’s something about it that sends a shiver up her spine.

“You were saying something, Detective?” he prods. Barbie nods and re-finds her question on the lined paper of her notebook.

“Had Janet mentioned she was afraid for any reason?” Barbie asks. Trevor rubs his chin.

“Not afraid,” he says haltingly, then gives a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know if this is really relevant.”

Kira leans forward. “Mr. Cunningham, any detail could be key.”

“Right,” Trevor says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, she mentioned hearing some strange voices when she was out and about at night. She said she swore she heard her own name, but never could find a source. She wasn’t scared though, just bemused.”

At this, Mason stands up. To Kira, he says, “We don’t need more.”

“Right,” Agent Sewell says, also getting to his feet.

“Wh—” Barbie furrows her brow, tempted to pinch herself to see if she might be dreaming up the audacious manners with which these men conduct themselves. “We are in the middle of an interview.”

They don’t seem to hear her. Agent Sewell holds a hand out as Trevor hurries to his feet, looking like he’s also feeling a step behind everything.

“Thank you for your time,” Agent Sewell says, and that’s all it takes for Trevor to forgive the bad manners. He smiles, and shakes Agent Sewell’s hand delicately.

“Oh, you can have it whenever,” Trevor laughs.

Desperate, Barbie looks to Kira, who winces apologetically before standing up and brushing down her suit.

This is so unexpected that Barbie doesn’t know how to stop what’s happening from continuing. She has more questions! Trevor surely would have allowed one or two more. Why would weird voices be the line these agents decided to draw?

“We…We’ll call if we have further questions,” Barbie says, feeling a touch numb as she rises to her feet. Trevor remembers she’s there as well and nods.

“Of course, Detective. Thanks for stopping by,” he says, the dismissal clear by his tone.

Barbie leaves on stiff legs, following the others out of the small apartment. Barely a few seconds after the door shuts behind them, music starts up along with the cry of a vacuum cleaner.

“Are you three out of your minds?” Barbie snaps, unable to hold back. Mason doesn’t so much as look at her, but Kira and Agent Sewell both flinch.

“I’m sorry,” Kira says. She cuts a sharp look at the men. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“It will not happen again. Not on my case,” Barbie says, trying to maintain her dignity even when all she really wants is to stomp her heel against the carpeted hallway and scream her head off at them.

“Of course not,” Agent Sewell pipes in. Even his handsome looks won’t soothe the frustration he’s causing her right now, so she just glares at him until he retreats a step behind Kira.

“I promise,” Kira says. Her big green eyes widen at Barbie. She can’t really resist letting her frustration go when she can see the mortification in Kira’s expression. It helps, knowing she had no part in that display.

Taking a breath, Barbie flips her notebook closed and slips it into her belt. “Alright. I’m going to go write this up. Will the rest of the team be joining us?”

“We have other things to debrief on,” Kira says. “Can we meet with you tomorrow?”

“Fine. Be early.” Barbie can’t deny she’ll be glad to get some distance for now.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Agent Sewell says. Barbie looks him over, frowns, and nods only because not doing it would seem too rude. He seems to deflate anyway.

That’s not really her problem though. For all that the Kingston women assured her this team wouldn’t be a nuisance, if this is how they approach all cases, she is not looking forward to what kinds of nonsense they decide to get up to tomorrow.

Barbie walks away without another word and tries to forget all about Unit Bravo. There are a million better things for her to put her mind to.

#darling writing #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc mason #twc nate #nate sewell #specialist agent mason #Kira Kingston #Barbara Robertson #have her cake and eat it #Mason/Nate/Barbie #eventually

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