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limerental · 1 year

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here, have a half-finished witcher americana retelling I've been sitting on for years now. I didn't quite have the gusto to go everywhere I wanted with it but here she is. I got in my yenralt & ciri feelings mostly :')

It did not go like this:

Yennefer was born the unfortunate eldest daughter of a local farmer of dairy goats and hogs, the sort of farm built into a gully that boiled up with mud and shit when it rained. Born all twisted up in the womb, her spine curved in a permanent hunch.

Some devil got to her mama, her daddy always said, leaning on a fencepost, hard-eyed and jeering as he spit tobacco into the dust.

Some devil had likely looked a lot like the young man her mama fancied just a few months before she was married quick to her daddy.

The devil long vanished off to the city.

Yennefer was no good for farm work, but she could do well enough bussing tables at the diner off the main road. She worked there more hours than not for less than scraps, but she did her work and ducked her head and kept mostly quiet about it. If she was just patient enough and careful, she could find her way out of there in time.

Yennefer kept a secret.

She'd been born with witchcraft hidden in her crooked body, the sort that ran in rich veins through the land itself. The kind that sang in the creek-carved ravines and thrummed through the gnarled roots and swaying branches of the forest.

She could call the animals to her and find anything lost and drive out the snakes from the chicken coop with a word, and she'd heard stories about things like that all her life so wasn't surprised by the possibility at all. Except for the fact that no one had ever taught her those things, and nobody knew she could do it.

In only a few short months she'd come into the full depth of her magic and the Witch would come for her and changed her life for good.

Before that, she met Geralt.

Yennefer'd long given up fantasies of being spirited away, thinking about strangers' lives with the kind of detached daydreaming of a girl who did dull work for ceaseless hours.

She wondered who this man was, old enough to have seen the war but younger than her daddy, who had been exempt from the draft on grounds of being a farmer. Which was good fortune, because he would have made a bloodthirsty soldier.

Geralt was a simple man who worked in travelling pest control. His beat up company van coughed over the miles, tools of the trade rattling in the back, big cartoon rat grinning evilly painted across the side.

Geralt kept a secret.

He knew every trick and gimmick to eliminate a rodent problem, could give his usual spiel about baiting and trapping to any fellow who asked, but had never employed anything that mundane even once. The pests he controlled and catalogued tended to be bigger and meaner and not as pretty splashed over the panels of a van.

Monsters were real, and he knew them by name. Kept tabs on the quiet ones and put down the loud and messy ones.

Always respectfully, that is.

Most of them weren't evil, just creatures as old as the land or older, the growing civilizations on this Continent encroaching more and more on the wild places they had once owned.

The war was many years over, and they said the future was bright. The future was now. Geralt didn't know by what metric they measured those things, because to him the world looked the same as always.

He'd done pest control enlisted in the war too, chasing the sort of monsters that paled in their wretched cruelty in comparison to men. Most of the things he sought out were just trying to survive with shrinking odds in a world rapidly forgetting them.

Geralt got that.

Got it in ways rural poor America did, living the same rusted out life they always had, going on in the usual quaint and tragic ways.

Yennefer didn't quite get it yet, but she was going to.

She poured burnt coffee for the grey-haired stranger in the far booth, a typical dusty midday silence settled over the diner. The slanted cartoon eyes of the rat on his sepia-toned van stared at her from where it was parked beside the pumps.

Places in towns this small wore many faces, general store, filling station, and diner in one. The main road was a common route north, and Yennefer liked to wonder where passersby were going, what lives they led. Imagine what faces they hid from the world, same as her.

Geralt had a job out this way with a few hours left to drive, hoping the company van didn't shit the bed again before he made it there, and he watched the waitress' hands shake as she poured him his coffee. Crooked through the shoulders, she limped when she walked and seemed to have trouble with the weight of the full carafe. Geralt smiled at her, an ugly, little smile on a face unused to such gestures, but the girl smiled back. He hoped they paid her fair. She had nice eyes, sharp and a cool violet.

Yennefer brought him a slice of apple pie and wondered where the stranger'd got his scars. He had a number of them on his face and hands alone, pink puckers and angry mauve ridges and was sure to have more hidden by his dark coveralls. Probably the war. If it had been the other waitress working, the chatty one, she would have asked, mister, did you get those in the war, must have gotten half blown to hell, but Yennefer didn't ask.

She smoothed her hands down the front of her starched apron and got back to work filling salt shakers, and neither spoke a word to the other.

Geralt didn't make much of a living on the road, but he lived simple and didn't need much anyhow. The pie was an extravagance, tart and sweet. The girl had working hands, calloused. He thought of saying something to her, making conversation, but he didn't. There was the sound of flies humming against the dust-streaked glass, the occasional rumble of traffic on the road, the quiet noise of his fork on chipped china.

He didn't stick around to watch his dollar tip fluster Yennefer's cheeks red. Didn't look back at all. If he had, he would have seen her pause in the screen door to watch him drive off, wondering about what sort of work he did in a strange vehicle like that, what sort of man he was.

The van's ignition choked and then caught. He had some miles to go.

Neither left a lasting impression on the other at that first unremarkable meeting, but when Yennefer next saw him two decades on, she knew him at once in the way that witches always know those sorts of things.

How fascinating it was to see that the stranger looked exactly the same despite the years. Same greyed hair, same dour expression, probably same pale orange van parked at the edge of the festival grounds. Witchers didn't age the same as men, after all, and that's the sort of thing she saw he was. Perilously slow heartbeat, calculating look in his newspaper yellow eyes, scars curved by talon and tooth and not shrapnel.

Geralt had known what she was by her description, whispered low and reverant like something holy, that this woman was no ordinary medic. Knew before he parted the canvas flap of a shabby tent in some muddy, over-trodden field and stepped into an opulent throne room, the stone walls hung with erotic tapestries, the high ceiling shimmering with a cloud of stars.

The witch herself sprawled perfectly naked on a high-backed throne with a seat of red velvet. Alone, she looked on in detached interest, still as a statue, a haughty and omnipotent sentinel. Geralt thought her ethereal, beautiful, enthralling.

Trouble.

In truth, Yennefer was wretchedly hungover after a riotous orgy the night before and could avoid the throbbing of her temples if only she kept perfectly still.

It was by her eyes, shrewd and violet, that, with a jolt of surprise up his spine, Geralt recognized her as the crooked waitress from the diner many years past.

There'd always been witches hidden behind any great power, old world or new. King Arthur ruled by the guiding hand of the wizard Merlin and JFK by a blonde starlet in a snow white dress, though none would ever have taken the latter for a sorceress.

How tiresome it was, thought Yennefer, how empty, how thankless.

Geralt sighed and adjusted his hold on the unconscious Dandelion's thighs, hitching his friend higher across his back as he wheezed into Geralt's ear. Would have rather gone elsewhere. Would have rather the idiot had not offended the ancient, moth-winged creature Geralt had come to reason with into making less noise.

But there was no talking sense into Dandelion. Damn lucky the creature the locals here called Mothman hadn't thought to curse him with something more severe than whatever ailed him.

It didn't take kindly to flirting.

Dandelion was a poet and a philanderer and a starchild and a balladeer and a free spirit and a scholar and a conscientious objecter and a right pain in Geralt's ass, except that he was also good to talk to and steadfastly humorous even all these years on and the sort of friend who remembered little details like your brand of cigarettes or your favorite candy, who Geralt liked even for his numerous flaws because Geralt liked most people truly and was a good man and loved deeply and loved consistently with his whole damn too-big heart.

"A friend?" asked Yennefer and Geralt shrugged.

What happened next happened the way it always did in every version of the story.

Two broken, fragile-hearted people and something close to tenderness.

It didn't happen like this:

Somebody had a pest problem, a wealthy widow with a pretty young daughter. Somebody'd cursed a poor son of a bitch into beastly form. Said he roamed the hills howling by night and walked the streets a man by day.

The curse broke in the usual way, just as Geralt said. The daughter's kiss on a full moon. True love and all. Happily ever after.

Except a new war broke and in time, it widowed the daughter too and her poor heart couldn't take the grief, and then the market turned sour and the wealthy widow lost her fortune and hung herself in the pantry. Geralt got a letter naming him next of kin by some questionably legitimate legal twist of fate and then, he sighed deep and resigned and drove north to pick up the girl.

It wasn't so unusual in his line of work, strange orphans scattered all over like grisly flotsam. But he didn't usually see to raising them. He'd never had a father besides the old man, and he'd never thought much of having his own children.

He couldn't know the true dark web of conspiracy around her and would never know the whole of it. The sort of man her daddy was to bear a curse like that in the first place. The old and intricate magicks, bound up in blood and circumstance. The sort of woman young Ciri would be.

Even if he'd known, Geralt would have drove to get her even so. He found the girl buck-toothed and scrawny and lugging a too heavy briefcase down the slumped front stoop of the elderly neighbor who'd been putting her up. Hair the pale color of woodsmoke, eyes like her mama, green as a copper kettle.

And just like her mama, young Ciri had some whisper of something else in her. Something carried over from older lands than this and bolstered by the ancient things here, passed on like the detritus of trauma gained generation to generation. Something tainted and bigger than he had the know-how to suss out.

Geralt sat down and fumblingly wrote a letter.

Meanwhile, young Ciri passed an idyllic summer and cold as tits winter on the isolated Morhen ranch in the rural mountains. She'd never worked a farm before and never even seen a farm animal up close, especially not a ranch like that one which was straight out of some pastoral fantasy.

A painted red barn and swaying, golden fields and a willow tree with a swing beside a white farmhouse on the ridgeline and a little cliche collection of animals. A black and white cow and a billy goat and a pair of checkered chickens and an old, whiskered horse and a little, scrappy dog.

Keeping up appearances, old Vesemir said and made her go muck out the pen. She wished they'd keep up appearances with mucking too and when she said that, the old man's eyes bugged out his head and Uncle Eskel wheeze-laughed folded over smacking his knees.

But the others didn't come until later into fall when the harvest needed brought in. For many long, humid, dust mote days of summer, it was just Ciri and her new, mysterious guardian and the old man who trundled on his tractor with a pipe dangling from his lip, mowing grass and cussing when the tires dipped into a whistlepig hole.

Most days, Ciri was expected up early to feed and muck and clean, which she did with a healthy amount of complaining. Her little pink hands sloughed red with oozing blisters, and Geralt held them in his rough palms to apply salve, feeling like he wished he could give this girl something more, something grander, but this was what they had, this was what he knew.

But Ciri liked the idea of it, her hands going rough and calloused and big like his, her body going hard and lean. She wondered about his scars and his lined face and how strong he was when he lifted her up in his arms.

The lightning bugs came out over the fields each night, so numerous that she could cry over it, and Geralt taught her how not to be afraid when catching them cupped in her hands, kneeling before her with the flickering light held out like a solemn offering.

He prayed it would be enough, the small things he could give her, but Ciri had never known anything bigger. Her daddy sitting on the creaking edge of her bed in the attic to tell her a bedtime story. One with the true monsters and evils smoothed out into a fairytale.

Geralt told her many stories. Long ago, there were elves and giants and wizards and queens and all of them tangled up together in mysterious and elaborate ways. Ciri reminded him about the knights, and he said, ah yes, the knights, and told her about the quests and the riddles and the labyrinths and the dragons. Ciri liked the dragons best. And the swords that slayed them.

When she asked about his own monsters, he said only that there were things in this land older than all of them.

Sometimes the land itself resisted occupation.

And if she was ever on a dirt road along a field of corn or alfalfa at night, never stray in, no matter what beckoned. And if the screams of the coyotes took on a different pitch, don't go looking. And if the cicadas and the crickets went silent all at once and the woods gathered a hush, run home and run fast and don't glance behind your shoulder.

She brandished a pitchfork out in the animal pen, playing at killing beasts, and Geralt watched from the front porch of the farmhouse wishing he could make it all true for her. Heroes and legends and noble truths.

Instead, he whispered a prayer to the wind rattling through the corn fields and held tight as he could to her little, calloused hand.

It all went more or less the same in the end.

"And that's it!" says Ciri, waggling her fingers in a dramatic flourish. "Well, it didn't happen like that." She keeps her voice low and steady in the manner of storytelling, perched up on a fence rail, hands dangling between her legs. "Well, it all did happen. But not like that. Not in those places at that time."

The farm boy she is speaking to looks at her with big eyes, dumb as a newborn lamb. He doesn't know where this America is or half of the words she uses.

Ciri yawns. She doesn't think she'll tell that version again. Or else be choosier with her audience. The sky has started to go red with fading light, and the bats loose themselves from the eaves of the barn to take wing over the fields.

"Don't you have evening chores to do, boy?" she asks, and the boy startles as though awakening from a dream. "Those sheep won't feed themselves."

Later, when his mama cuffs him over the head for his tardiness, he will not be able to explain the reason for the dawdling. He remembers the dark silhouette of a stranger on the border of the fenceline and a peculiar sort of hollow sadness.

In all the darkest and strangest days of his life afterward, his thoughts will return sometimes to that shape in the cradle of dusk.

And one night when his own young, sleepless daughter asks to hear a story, he will close his eyes and draw a breath and tell her one.

#the witcher #yenralt #ciri #my fic

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minnesotadruids · 2 years

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2022 Pagan Pride Days in US & Canada

Here’s a list of Pagan Pride fall festivals and a handful of similar events coming up. Want to meet other druids, witches, heathens, and similar like-minded individuals? Most Pagan Pride Days are free, unless otherwise specified below. Please be sure to verify these events for yourselves before venturing out. Be safe and have fun!

Alabama: Auburn: Kiesel Park: September 17, hours TBA…

Alberta: Edmonton: Richie Hall: September 10, 11 AM to 5 PM

Arizona: Phoenix: Steele Indian School Park: November 5, 9 AM to 5 PM

British Columbia: Vancouver: Trout Lake Park: August 13, 12 PM to 7 PM

California: Los Angeles/Long Beach: Rainbow Lagoon: October 2, 10 AM to 5:30 PM

California: Sacramento: Phoenix Park: September 10, 10 AM to 6 PM

Colorado: Denver: TBA: Usually announced in October for last weekend of month

Colorado: Fort Collins: City Park: August 21, 10 AM to 6 PM

Connecticut: Berlin: Veteran's Memorial Park: Weekend near Autumnal Equinox TENTATIVE

District of Columbia: See Frederick MD and/or Reston VA

Florida: Jacksonville: Riverside Artist Square: September 25, 11 AM to 5 PM

Georgia: Athens: Washington Street between Pulaski & Hull: October 22, hours TBA

Illinois: Chicago: Garfield Park: September 24, 10 AM to 6 PM

Illinois: Wheaton: Henry S. Olcott Memorial Library lawn: September 10, 10 AM to 5 PM

"TheosoFest" with free admission, vehicle parking is $5

Iowa: Burlington: Dankwardt Park: August 27, times not specified

Kentucky: Louisville: Waterfront Park: September 10, 11 AM to 6 PM

Louisiana: New Orleans: October 1, updating website soon for full details

Maryland: Frederick: UU Congregation of Frederick (lawn), September 17, 10 AM to 6 PM

Massachusetts: Lakeville: Ted Williams Camp: September 11, 10 AM to 6 PM

Massachusetts: Northampton: 1 Kirkland Ave, September 24, 9 AM to 5 PM

Michigan: Ann Arbor: Washtenaw Community College: September 10, 10 AM to 5 PM

Michigan: Grand Rapids: Richmond Park: September 17, 9 AM to whenever

Minnesota: Mankato: Jack McGowans Farm: August 13-14, 10 AM to 5 PM

Minnesota: Minneapolis: Minnehaha Falls Park: September 10, 10 AM to 6 PM

Missouri: Joplin: Cunningham Park: September 10, 9 AM to 6 PM

Missouri: Springfield: 405 Washington Ave, September 17, 11 AM to 5 PM

Montana: Kalispell: UU Church, 1515 Tumble Creek Road: September 17, 11 AM to 6 PM

New Jersey: Old Bridge: 144 E Greystone Rd (registration required): August 6, 9 AM to 6 PM

Technically a "Pagan Picnic" by Hands of Change with similar stuff to Pagan Pride Days

New Jersey: Cherry Hill: Cooper River Park: October 1, 10 AM to 6 PM

New Mexico: Albuquerque: Bataan Memorial Park: September 25, 10 AM to 6 PM

Has admission fee: donation of one non-perishable food item

New Mexico: Las Cruces: Pioneer Women's Park: October 15, 11 AM to whenever

New York: Buffalo: Buffalo Irish Center: October 9, 11 AM to 4 PM

New York: Syracuse: Long Branch Park: September 17, 10 AM to 5 PM

Ohio: Cincinnati: Mt. Airy Forest: Stone Steps Picnic Shelter: August 5, 12 PM to 8 PM

Pagan Pride Potluck Picnic: free event, but bring food to share

Park Vehicle Fee: $5 for Hamilton County residents, $8 for non-residents

Ohio: Cleveland (Bedford): Bedford Public Square, Aug 18-21, 5-10 PM, 12-10 PM, 12-5 PM

Has admission fee: donation of two non-perishable food items

Ohio: Dayton (Fairborn): Fairborn Community Park: October 22, 9 AM to 6 PM

Oklahoma: OK City: Wiley Post Park: September 24, 10 AM to 5 PM

Oklahoma: Tulsa: Dream Keepers Park: October 1, 9 AM to 6 PM

Ontario: Toronto: Gage Park: September 11, 10 AM to 6 PM

Oregon: Eugene: Alton Baker Park: August 7, 10:30 AM to 7 PM

Oregon: Portland: Oaks Amusement Park: September 18, 10 AM to 5 PM

Pennsylvania: Allentown (Easton): Louise Moore County Park: August 20, 9 AM to 4 PM

Pennsylvania: Philadelphia: Clark Park: September 3, 10 AM to 6 PM

Pennsylvania: York: Samuel Lewis State Park (no entrance fee): September 24 10 AM to 6 PM

South Carolina: Greenville (Easley): Maynard Community Center: October 1, 9 AM to 5 PM

Has admission fee: donation of one non-perishable food item

Tennessee: Knoxville: The Concourse: September 10, 10 AM to whenever

Has admission fee: donation of one non-perishable food item (or cash)

Tennessee: Memphis: Meeman-Shelby Forest State Park: October 20-23, starts at Noon

"Festival of Souls" Registration required: $60 for whole weekend or $25 per day

Tennessee: Nashville: Two Rivers Park: October 1, 10 AM to 5 PM

Texas: Dallas-Fort Worth: Arlington UU Church: November 6, 10 AM to 5 PM

Virginia: Reston: Lake Fairfax Park, October 1, 10 AM to 5 PM

Washington: Spokane: UU Church of Spokane: September 17 10 AM to 4 PM

There may be more Pagan Pride Day events than the ones listed here, but they’re either difficult to find info for online or plans are still tentative. Sorry if I missed any major ones!

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yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere · 21 days

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so, alright, here are the movies/MEDIA that make me go *oh shit I'm so bi, omg bisexual panic*

so, alright, here are the MOVIES that make me go *oh shit I'm so bi, omg bisexual panic* (it can be very bi-vibes movies or simply movies that make me feel how very deeply i love being bi, or the ones i just enjoy rewatching-not necessarily with bi/queer representation!) : Red, White & Royal Blue 2023 , The Mummy 1999, The Little Mermaid 2023, The Little Mermaid 1989, Anne Of Green Gables 1985, The Road to El Dorado 2000, Mulan 1998, The Cutting Edge 1992, Ten Inch Hero 2007, Better Off Dead 1985, Anastasia 1997, Rise Of The Guardians 2012, 10 Things I Hate About You 1999, Do Revenge 2022, Charlie’s Angels 2019, Bottoms 2023, Cadet Kelly 2002, Lemonade Mouth 2011, The Little Vampire 2017, John Tucker Must Die 2006, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies 2016, The Princess and The Frog 2009, The Addams Family 1991, Addams Family Values 1993, Atlantis: The Lost Empire 2001, The Favourite 2018, (+ will probably keep adding to this soon-ish)

+ edit TV SHOWS that my bi heart loves: One Tree Hill(OTH), Shadow and Bone, Roswell 90s(OG), White Collar, Reign, Mary & George, Heartstopper, Wild Cards, Living for the Dead, Warrior Nun, XO Kitty, Wednesday, Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous(JWCC) , Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Dawson's Creek, Vampire Academy, Willow, Dickinson, Heartbreak High, Teen Titans, Legacies, TheAddamsFamily(1964-1966), Love Victor, Lockwood&Co,

+ edit BOOKS/ BOOK SERIES that my bi heart absolutely LOVES:

Artemis Fowl Series by Eoin Colfer, Shatter Me Series by Tahereh Mafi, The Folk Of The Air Series by Holly Black, The Diviners Series by Libba Bray, The Devouring Gray Duology by C.L. Herman, GRISHAVERSE books (Six of Crows!!, Shadow and Bone, King of Scars-3 mini series) by Leigh Bardugo , This Woven Kingdom Series by Tahereh Mafi , Fallen Series by Lauren Kate, Elixir Series by Hilary Duff, The Cemetery Of Forgotten Books Series by C. R. Zafón, The Keys To The Kingdom Series by Garth Nix, Infinity Cycle Series by Adam Silvera, Anne Of Green Gables Series by L. M. Montgomery, Bloodlines Series & Vampire Academy Series by Richelle Mead, An Ember In The Ashes Series by Sabaa Tahir, The Selection Series by Kiera Cass + STANDALONES Lauren Kate-Unforgiven (standalone book in my opinion), Eoin Colfer- Airman, David Nicholls- One Day, Gayle Forman-Just One- Day & Year & Night (mini series), Vanessa Len-Only a Monster (mini series here too), Adam Silvera- History Is All You Left Me, Adam Silvera- They Both Die At The End , Adam Silvera- The First To Die At The End, Becky Albertalli-Imogen,Obviously, Mason Deaver- I Wish You All The Best(+short novella here!), Casey McQuiston-Red White&Royal Blue, Aaron H Aceves-This Is Why They Hate Us, Mason Deaver-The Feeling Of Falling In Love, Sophie Gonzales-The Law Of Inertia, H.E.Edgmon-The Witch King & The Fae Keeper (duology!) , H.E.Edgmon-Godly Heathens (mini series here!) , Carlos Ruiz Zafón- The Midnight Palace, Isabel Abedi- Whisper Haunted House, Francis Scott Fitzgerald- The Love Of Last Tycoon, Leo Tolstoy- Anna Karenina, S. E. Hinton- The Outsiders, Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera-Here's to Us & What If It's Us (duology) (will keep adding here probably!)

+ about THE MUSIC:

love you all, we need MORE bisexuality in media!!

+some links:

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leon-swedfinqs · 5 months

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A Witch’s Letter

Anathema sends out a letter to the duo requesting help only one of them can truly provide.

Aziraphale gets some insight into other sides of his partner he was yet to be exposed to.

Crowley comes up with a compromise.

Read below the cut

Hell or any infernal torture dimension equivalent truly knew no fury like a dedicated Anathema Device. And now here she was, many strange paper trails and shoddy eye witness account later, clutching a parchment and watching as the mail carriage tumbled down the gravel road towards her. Upon seeing her silhouette against the shrubbery, the driver pulled back on the reigns of the feathered yet wingless bird lugging the trolley until it came to a stop before her.

“Madame” he tipped his hat to her before gesturing to her letter, “what’s this? Letter to a boy?”

“I’m not quite sure actually,” Anathema mumbled, recounting the multiple pronouns used to describe who she suspected to be the same person. Regardless, she held out the letter.

“Aw, young love. Reminds me of me and my Maud. I’ll make sure it gets to him in a few days, ma’am” he nodded as he took it from her.

“Actually,” she said as he other hand dug into her dress pocket and retrieved a small burlap pouch, “This needs to be delivered now. As soon as possible. Priority.”

She held out the sack, but the postman made no effort to take it.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t fast track any deliveries over others, even for a bribe. It would go against my oath, see,” he said. Anathema’s grip on the pouch tightened. The hard gold coins felt absolutely worthless in that moment.

Even though she’d normally prided herself on her cool temper, the postman seemed to have noticed a change in her expression. “Oh, I know the rate of snail mail can be frustrating, ma’am. At least we aren’t using giant snails anymore, aye? My old stead, Cepha, she did her time as a dedicated postal worker—lives at home in a happy retirement now. If you’re upset your note won’t get to your love before your anniversary or somethin, I’ll be sure to tell him it was my fault for the delay, alright?”

“It’s not for a partner,” Anathema mumbled, “It’s…it’s for a…a doctor, of sorts. The boy I tutor, he’s very ill. No one can help, this doctor may be my last hope,” her chin fell to her chest, “please, I can double my offer, I just need to get them here as soon as possible. I can get you more money, or I could-“

“Put the coins away, lass,” he said before she heard the trolley creek and two feet hit the ground. Slowly she looked up to find the postman looking at her letter in his hands. The corners of his mouth upturned in a smile, “I’ll do it. I’ll deliver this one, fast as you’ve ever seen. You have my word. In return I need no money, but I will need someone to finish my route for the day. Tomorrow another worker can cover, but today I’m out of luck. Would you-“

“YES!” Anathema gasped before quickly clearing her throat and regaining her composure, “oh, yes yes of course I will. Anything.”

The postman nodded before smiling, “we’ve got a deal then. Pick up and delivery list is in the front compartment, you’ll need to use your own stead to cart around the wares. And once you’re finished, just drop my cart off at the office on 3rd and Stenton in town.” Anathema nodded furiously at each instruction before the postman approached the large creature and pulled himself up onto the saddle. He undid the towing attachment and gave the creature a quick kick to the side. All at once, a bright yellow pair of wings sprouted from either side of its body.

“Give Adam my regards!” The postman called before with another kick, he took off into the sky.

~~~

Aziraphale was stubborn.

When he told crowley he was going to shill out money for a PO Box, crowley summoned the fattest eye roll he could muster. The type of people who used their services typically didn’t seek out specific blokes, just whoever was willing to do their dirty work. Not to mention they wouldn’t want to use the postal system.

Unsurprisingly, they received very few letters. They did occasionally get messages from previous clients or people they’d met on their journeys, that was welcomed. They also received a fair bit of junk mail—a concept Aziraphale didn’t initially understand and almost led him to sending their stash of gold to a ‘prince in need on a small loan.’

Even after Crowley pointed out that having a traceable place where their enemies could link them to could be dangerous, Aziraphale insisted, not out of disagreement but purely out of stubbornness. And now, finally was the day it was all paying off.

With his nose practically sniffing the sun, he placed the letter in front of crowley with a satisfied “hmph!”. Crowley only tilted his glasses down his nose and glances between the parchment and the satisfied cleric.

“What’s got you so pleased with yourself?” Crowley asked as he went back to whatever he was going, probably fiddling with a dagger.

“Take a look at this. You said it was silly, but ohhh it seems like our PO Box was truly useful. Especially because this lass sounds like she’s willing to spend a pretty penny” Aziraphale hummed. Crowley, making a great show of doing so, finally picked up the letter and read over the lines. However, the more he read, the less exasperated he seemed. His pupils moved faster across the page, until finally stopping on the final line.

To whom it may concern,

You do not know me, and I do not know you, but I am requesting your aid.

My name is Anathema Device, if you’ve heard of me it may be due to my family’s prophecies and our affiliation with the high royals. Rest assured, I do not collude with those people. I am an educator, a teacher of sorts. I’ve studied all forms of magic, specifically into ancient, lost, or hidden art forms. Due to my knowledge and vast array of skills, I have recently been hired to tutor this wonderful young boy.

I have heard of you, in passing. Of your wits and skills and ability to fight. Of your magic and intelligence. Tales lost to the gust of winds in the forest.

I have foreseen this day coming. But I did not expect it so soon, and as such I am unprepared. I cannot help him. No one can truly help him.

If I’m right, if what I’ve seen in my future is right, then you’re the only one who can. I understand your hesitance. I am willing to offer anything as compensation, for your help, with the promise of my quiet in return. I beg of you, please.

The zodiacs, the stars, are calling to him, and I cannot help him answer.

Aziraphale looked at him expectantly, waiting for some kind of admission of wrong. However, Crowley’s face looked pale and wordless he stood with the paper, walked over to a trash can, and slipped it in.

“Wh- oh come on now Crowley! Just because you don’t want to admit I proved you wrong that doesn’t mean you can just ignore the young woman!” Aziraphale huffed as he walked over to the can and went to retrieve it. However, Crowley held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s…it’s not that,” he mumbled, “that woman. I just, I don’t want any affiliation with her,” Crowley mumbled, “You were right, whatever, just forget it ever happened.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Aziraphale frowned, though his voice was laced with concern. Crowley was looking off and it didn’t seem like he was planning on meeting any gazes any time soon. When he didn’t answer, Aziraphale pursued his lip before suddenly turning away, walking over to his bag and rummaging before retrieving a scroll. He brought it back over to the rogue.

“Remember when you told me about the stars?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley didn’t move, but usually the lack of a “no” meant “yes” when he was in moods like this. Aziraphale suddenly pulled open the scroll, showing a star map.

“Ever since then, I kept my eye out for any literature about stars I thought you’d like. And I found out all about these beings called ‘Zodiacs!’ They’re affiliated with the stars, I think you’d really enjoy them!” Aziraphale tucked part of the map between his fingers to keep it open while the others gestured to a picture of scales overlayed over one of the constellations, “The woman mentioned them in her letter. I think you’d have a really great time on this mission if you gave it a chance, eh?”

Crowley wordlessly looked over at the star map, his eyes scanning over the constellations and symbols that decorated the page. Aziraphale frowned as he watched Crowley study the paper with sadness in his eyes.

Carefully, Crowley pulled the map from Aziraphale’s grasp and held it up as he leaned against the wall. He rolled the scroll and tucked one of the edges underneath the crook of his arm in order to look more intently at a different section of signs. The two stood in complete silence, the air thick with tension and confusion. Aziraphale was afraid to speak, afraid to scare Crowley off.

“Angel, I…” Crowley sighed as he rolled up the scroll and held it tightly in his hands, the paper squishing under his grip. He still wasn’t making eye contact. “…who do you think she wrote the letter to?”

“Why us, of course,” Aziraphale said firmly. “She so neatly addressed it to our business. Her penmanship is quite lovely.”

“Quite…” Crowley sighed. “Look, Angel, it’s-ngk-fuck…”

He turned, finally making eye contact. “It’s to me. The letter was for me.”

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he replayed the words of the letter in his head.

“What do you mean? The young woman pointedly notes both of our skills in her request.”

“And yet she never says either of our names,” Crowley reminded him. He turned his head to the side, momentarily breaking eye contact. “Frankly I don’t blame her, probably couldn’t pinpoint mine…” he muttered. The tiefling took a moment to take a deep breath and compose himself, before placing the scroll down on the table besides them and making firm eye contact with Aziraphale once more.

“You read about the Zodiacs, correct?” He interrogated.

“Wh-yes, but-“

“What about the magic they pass down? The blessing of stardust to mortals?”

Aziraphale owlishly blinked, staring up at Crowley in confusion. He had a million questions swimming around in his head — yes, while he would consider himself highly educated, Aziraphale is still blind to other forms of magic and the religions that surrounded these abilities. He’s been spending his years catching up on outside history and his own magic sector in order to properly assimilate. But one question couldn’t help but blurt itself out.

“Why, in Ecliel’s great realm, do you know about this?” he asked.

Crowley deflated slightly at the question, and for a moment his eyes appeared glazed and elsewhere. Aziraphale recognized that expression well and carefully dragged over one of the nearby stools before Crowley slumped onto it. He sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees and clasping his fingers.

There were no words that felt right, but Crowley forced words regardless. “For my 6th birthday, I asked my family for a star map. When I was 7, I asked for a sextant. And when I turned 8, they got me an astrolabe.” The tiefling smiled somberly as memories drifted in—many nights he would sneak out of his bedroom through the high up window with notebooks, astrological tools and his blanket. They’d wiggle themselves up onto the roof and settle on a perfectly comfy stop to observe, appreciate, and reach out to the stars. That was, until, one day the stars reached back to him.

“I was observing as I did every night. I would gaze and name every constellation and star system, identify which planets were in view, count all of the shooting stars and asteroids that would briefly pass by. Once I finished documenting what the sky looked like that night, I would lay on the roof and reach out towards the sky, my hands open as if I was waiting to catch something…”

Crowley sighed as he rubbed his right thumb against his left palm in a nervous gesture.

“I would concentrate on the constellation above me, Aries I believe it was that night. I would close my eyes and mentally sing out to it, almost like a prayer I guess,” he laughed. “I felt comfort in the gesture. Like my voice was a call and the stars would comfort me into the follow day. I always thought that those were their answers, that sense of protection I would feel. But, then…”

During their call, Crowley suddenly felt a comforting warmth building up in the palms, growing and pushing like a flower bud through the dirt. Breaking the ritual, they opened their eyes in curiosity, and were met with a bright glow sitting in their hands.

Crowley stared at the light in his hands and gasped. And the star seemed to gasp back.

The tiefling was incredibly careful with the star, though it was out of appreciation rather than fear. Curiously one of his fingers brushed over the surface, only for a smattering of starlight to flicker onto his thumb and scatter into the space around them. It almost looked like dust or flaky snow fluttering off, though once the first few particles dettached, others quickly followed. Crowley worried he may have hurt the star, though the nerves were dashed once the specks began to swirl upwards, moving to twist gently around his horns. When they reached the tips, the stardust shifted and curled to form another loop, similar to the rack of a ram.

The strangest thing? That stardust *tickled* almost. Well, not exactly tickling. Crowley could feel the small particles like warm, comforting pinpricks, but the feeling they transferred brought a light that made him want to giggle.

The stardust came back to settle in his hands, not as condensed as it had once been and still a bit drifting around dreamily or freckled on crowley’s skin like he had accidentally spilled the most beautiful paint in the world.

“A star’s blessing,” Crowley sighed. “A connection that forms deep within your soul, branching between the physical and celestial realm. It allows us to draw power from our rising and manifest it into magic.”

As he spoke, Crowley could feel the dormant warmth pulse beneath his skin, the fire now attached to his being, too stubborn to let go. Over the years he was able to subconsciously tune it out — constantly listening to it cry out would’ve driven him mad.

“I was granted the blessing…this kid, I bet he was too…”

Crowley sighed. He was afraid, honestly. He still had unsaid words sitting on his tongue, his body felt rigid in fear of what the cleric might say or how he would react. He felt vulnerable, exposed and stinging like an open wound. He said too much, he said too much.

Aziraphale said nothing at first, his eyes purely studying Crowley’s form. He’d never seen him like this frankly, and in his mind a lot of connections were being made to previous mysteries about his companion. Although the memory was lovely, it didn’t need to be said that something must’ve gone wrong—the fate this meeting with a star had led to only ended in trauma that crowley had tried to buried, all undone by a single woman’s letter.

Gently and silently, Aziraphale approached and reached out, cupping his hands around Crowley’s nervous interlocked fingers. He held his hands with the same care and reverence Crowley had held his star with. He could feel a slight tremor coming from the rogue’s hands, the fear and memories shimmering around him like dust that was brushed off a shelf.

“The kid is cursed…I…I can’t help him. No-nn-I-no, I won’t help him,” Crowley sputtered. “I’m sorry…”

Aziraphale blinked in surprise as he frowned. This was incredibly uncharacteristic for Crowley, especially since Aziraphale had picked up on his sweet spot for children. Although he would swear up and down he “hated the little brats,” Aziraphale caught crowley sneaking extra food or supplies to street kids, and even agreed to going on a mission for free a few months back when a little girl asked them to help find her dad. Although it may have seemed cruel, Aziraphale knew it wasn’t easy for Crowley.

“I don’t think you should help him,” Aziraphale started. Crowley’s gaze snapped up in surprise, obviously expecting the cleric to try and persuade him the other way. But Aziraphale held firm gaze as he squeezed crowley’s hands gently. “You’ve obviously been hurt by this in the past. I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to get involved, dear. You’re very important, Crowley”

A tear slid down the rogue’s cheek, though before it reached his chin, he suddenly stood up and moved his hands under aziraphale’s arms, instead wrapping around him and grasping him in a desperate embrace. His breath shuddered as he buried himself into Aziraphale, only able to mutter a small “thank you” into the clerics shirt.

Aziraphale remained and embraced him for a long time, every so often whispering another affirmation or grounding crowley with a squeeze. However, his eyes couldn’t help but drift to the nearby table with the discarded letter, words desperate and pleading.

Once Crowley sufficiently calmed down, Aziraphale finally pulled away.

“Dear boy, I’m glad you’re doing what’s best for you. I really do think it’s best that you stay here for this” Aziraphale smiled.

“Yeah…wait, what do you mean ‘this’?”

“Well…I believe I want to go on a solo mission to help this boy.”

Aziraphale held his ground as Crowley bristled and looked at him oddly.

“I might not understand zodiac magic, nor am I able to cast it. But it sounds like it’s a deep spiritual connection. My magic stems from my faith, it was granted to me by my god as a…blessing, I guess would be the right term. This young lady sounds more like an academic, learning element combinations in order to cast magic. While not the same, I believe I can still help.”

Aziraphale was beaming at the concept. Any opportunity to help the cleric would take, that Crowley understood. He has watched him try to cast magic more “traditionally”, like how one would learn at an academy to become a sorcerer, but he greatly fumbled and was barely able to make a spark. His magic seemed to flow with his confidence, emotions, and faith. It was difficult in the beginning to translate those feelings and power into tangible and legit spells.

“It doesn’t sound like a typical quest, Angel,” Crowley frowned. “It feels like more of a, errr…babysitting job. Long term. A sit in.”

“Oh? Think I’ll have to become his nanny, do you?” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“I just mean, this seems like an extended commitment. And I don’t think it’s safe for either of us to-“ to be around zodiacs, including a kid that could explode and become an ultra powerful maniac, “-stay in one place for too long, you know.”

“You have a point,” Aziraphale mumbled before snapping his fingers, “then I’ll host a sort of boot camp! Short term but packed to the brim with lessons!”

Crowley bit his lip. “Err…uh…I have a hunch that the kid is, like, around 10 years old.”

“And how does that change anything?” Aziraphale asked as he tilted his head.

“Weren’t you a bit restless when you were ten? The ‘I’d rather do anything else’ phase?”

“…no? I quite liked my lessons, I wanted to be risen,” he said bluntly.

Crowley blinked as he thought for a moment. The image of a younger Aziraphale, sans halos, chubbier cheeks, and more wild hair, dressed up in a sort of ornate uniform, sitting in a back room frantically trying to memorize passages of scripture before a sermon.

“Right,” Crowley sighed. “Well, normal ten year olds won’t follow a boot camp learning program that easily. They’re like…uh…what’s that thing that’s slippery and hard to catch…”

Crowley trailed off in thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Right! Regardless, it’s unsafe for one of us to leave for a long time. So I’ll just, er…we’ll go together. I pick up some jobs for money, you deal with the kid.”

Aziraphale softly smiled. Of course he couldn’t help but want to help the kid anyway. “Oh Crowley, are you sure?”

Crowley sniffed and curtly nodded. “Yes, correctamundo, 100%—oh I’m not saying that again,” he babbled. “Now shoo! Go write back to that witch woman, I’ll cook some dinner.”

Aziraphale bright smiled as Crowley quickly waved him off before slipping off into the kitchen. As the cleric turned and grabbed the letter to leave to his study, he heard Crowley blurt out in exasperation “Fish!”, making him chuckle. He hoped that dinner would take a while, he’s got a letter to write and some supplies to organize and pack. He has a feeling this was going to be a big one.

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apotatomashedbybts · 2 years

Text

The Exit

➛Pairing: Jeon Jungkook × reader

➛Genre: horror

➛Trope: established relationship (implied), horror

➛Word Count: 1.6k+

➛Trigger warning: darkness, creepy person, feeling of being lost

➛Rating: pg

➛Banner: made by apotatomashedbybts

➛Cross post: Wattpad | ao3

➛Disclaimer: This piece was a little bit inspired by the beginning of the webtoon Witch Creek Road (read that webtoon if you want your mind to be boggled and malfunction). Also the picture in the header inspired this story heavily.

➛Author's note: This is highly unedited and written in a day with my extremely sleepy head. Please be kind (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ

➛ Event: 🕸️ NO-FACETOBER hosted by @bangtanbathhouse

⤖ Day 1 : EERIE

➛Taglist: @btsstan12 ; @sugarwithtea ; @sweetieguk ; @kuuipobangtan

➛ Announcement: part II is here → Eleutheria

➛Summary: Jungkook should have taken the main road even if it meant it'd take longer to reach you.

The road was deserted. And unsettlingly dark.

It would have been another long night drive for Jungkook if it wasn't for this indomitable darkness that didn't let even his headlights pierce further into it.

Something about it made Jungkook uncomfortable and he wondered, "Would it have been better if I just took the main road?"

His mind played the image of the old lady at the small grocery store at the junction of the main road and this shortcut where he had stopped to buy water earlier.

That old lady had smiled oddly at him when he had asked her about the shortcut that his car navigation system was showing him with dotted lines and had asked him, "Do you want to take the shortcut?"

Jungkook had replied nonchalantly with a shrug, "If it takes me to my destination early then why not?"

"Then you should go," the old lady had answered with that same weird yet soft smile.

Jungkook had dismissed her behaviour by judging it as some characteristics that all eccentric old people had, specially in such a remote area.

But now this road made him think twice and he thought about turning around and take the main road. It wasn't far away. He was just fifteen minutes away from it. But just then he noticed the bright lights coming from what seemed to be a lone gas station in the middle of this obscurity.

Jungkook was quite sure that it wasn't there even a minute ago. Was he so zoned out that he missed noticing the lights?

The neon and the LED lights of it spread over a large area as if it was the only one who could keep the darkness on a leash. It was hard to miss but Jungkook did somehow.

With noticing the lights he also noticed that his fuel tank was almost empty. But he had filled the tank just an hour and a half ago, just before leaving the city border!

"Whatever," Jungkook thought and stopped his car in front of a fuel dispenser.

Jungkook got out of the car and spotted a lanky old man, with a skin that was so wrinkly and loose on him that it looked like it was not his but rather he was wearing it, approaching him with an ear to ear smile.

He took out the dispenser nozzle after Jungkook told him to get the tank full. Jungkook looked on the other side of the road, trying not make an eye contact, even more so because he could sense the old man staring at him incessantly with that same eerie smile on his face.

Jungkook was intending to stand there like that facing the other side looking distracted until the tank was full but the old man started talking to him, "You must be from the city."

Jungkook nodded a small yes with a small smile and turned away his face again.

"Anybody barely takes this road. You must be taking the shortcut to The Moor Estate."

Jungkook scrunched his eyebrows at this. He was irritated at his constant tries to make small talk with him even though he was making it clear that he didn't intended to talk, vaguely. But at the same time he was intrigued as well , and so he asked, "so, how much more till I reach there?"

It must be Jungkook's eyes playing tricks on him because he felt like the smile on the old man's face grew bigger, almost ripping his cheeks.

The old man kept the nozzle in its place and answered, "It's not very far. A small drive and you'll find the Devil's Crest turning! Turn on that road and you'll reach your destination."

As soon as the old man was done filling Jungkook's tank he took a water bottle and a small packet consisting of two cookies among many that were kept organised on a table beside the dispenser and said, "This is a complementary snack."

"Thanks." Jungkook said, hurriedly taking the food offered and somehow feeling instantly hungry.

"These cookies here are specially sweet." The old man said, his ripping cheeks could hardly contain his happiness.

Not wanting to spend any single minute more there Jungkook paid the old man and got out of there.

•••

Jungkook had been driving for a few hours now.

The navigation system of his car had stopped working long ago, as soon as he got out of the gas station. So he decided to pull over and call you.

He looked at his phone screen to see the time and he was surprised to see that it was already 3:03 am.

"It's already this late. A few minutes' nap won't hurt I guess," he thought and rang your number to let you know about his whereabouts.

"Hello! Jungkook... whe.. are... you?"

"Great! Now the network has gone haywire," Jungkook huffed as your voice reached to him inconsistently.

"I am taking the shortcut to your place." Jungkook answered.

"What? Your... ound... not... ching... pro... ly."

Jungkook knew it would be a waste of energy to talk right now so he said, "Nothing. I'll reach there soon. I'm almost at the Devil's Crest."

Your voice sounded much clearer this time, "Yes. Yes. Take the De... Ville's.. Crest turning! See you soon. Love you."

"Love you too." Jungkook replied with a smile and keeping the call he decided to push himself a little more.

Turned out that push was worth it because sooner than he expected he was now at The Devil's Crest turning.

He thanked the stars and hummed happily and steered his way into the turning thinking that he'd see you soon and could finally rest in your warm hug.

•••

Was it just him or really the environment had suddenly become too silent?

He strained his ear and looked around while driving - there wasn't a single sound, not even of birds or insects. As if someone had put this particular part of the world on mute.

The silent felt heavy on Jungkook's ears. So to give himself some sense of security he rolled up all the windows of the car and played his favourite tracks.

Jungkook looked at the sky and it was a dull blue almost like dawn but the surroundings below it appeared to be rejecting all the lights they were being provided.

He tried not to focus too much on them and kept his attention on the road.

He drove and drove and drove. The more he drove the more the road stretched further forward.

His back had started to ache from constant sitting upright in a futile attempt to not fall asleep and his eyes felt strained. He felt like his forehead was strung together with his eyes and was getting pulled back.

Stopping could have been an option but Jungkook's instincts told him to keep going. So he did. And finally he reached a part where the road was the widest, almost like a small yard, and an isolated red exit sign high up caught his eyes.

Jungkook didn't see a single trace of human living in that area as long as he drove so the existence of that neon exit sign was weird yet a sign of hope for him.

He wanted to get out of there as soon as possible and so he kicked the accelerator with all his might and zoomed past the exit signboard.

It was odd.

Jungkook drove straight past the signboard and drove on a straight road then why was he again in front of that same exit sign?

It didn't make any sense.

Jungkook consoled himself that maybe he had mistakenly took a turn somewhere that he couldn't remember. It was a far stretch even for him but he couldn't explain it in any other way.

Giving himself a light slap he started to drive.

But there he was - in front of the exit signboard, again.

Before the panic could settle in Jungkook hit the accelerator again to full speed and drove straight ahead.

This had to be some kind of joke.

Jungkook checked his dead navigation system and tried to call you, or anyone for that matter but the signals weren't going through.

He slapped his hands on the steering wheel and pressed the accelerator pedal again. But this time the car didn't move. Jungkook desperately turned the key and tried to get the car moving but it didn't budge.

With bloodshot eyes Jungkook looked at his fuel tank signal whose red arrow was pointing at the empty mark.

Jungkook rested his head on the steering wheel with a light thud and chuckled, "This has to be a dream. This has to be. I just have to wake up. Please, please, Jeon Jungkook, wake up! Wake the fuck up!"

He banged his head constantly on the steering wheel in a futile attempt to wake up from a reality that he was trying hard to convince himself as a nightmare.

But no matter how long it took the reality was bound to set in. It was no different for Jungkook. And as it did for him the fear nested in his heart like stones layering upon one another.

Your smiling face blurrily hovered in his mind and tears trickled down his cold cheeks.

He felt worn out. He just wanted to take some rest.

With shaky hands he opened the door of his car to let himself out. His legs gave up and he staggered as soon as he did so. He knelt down on the ground and looked up at the stern exit signboard against the never-changing sky.

As he stayed kneeling down there, staring at the sign with hazy vision, trying to reason with it mentally to let him go, a thick white cloud of fog floated in engulfing the entire ground. It swam towards Jungkook and swirled softly around him, ushering him into the woods.

With heavy mind and wobbly steps Jungkook stood up and began walking straight past the exit sign, on the road on which he already had drove multiple times. He was not going to give up.

He was going to find the exit.

~~~~~☠☠☠~~~~~

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inthememetime · 9 months

Text

I was making a list of Weird Places in Amity Park in Darcy Lewis' Adventures in Dating Dracula, and one of my Discord buddies told me you might like to see it.

Lost Horse Road- Nobody lives on Lost Horse Road. The buildings there are all abandoned. Even before the Fenton portal was activated, it was an extremely liminal place. Traveling Lost Horse Road is a very bad idea; lucky people are transported to a random location nearby- maybe back at home, or in front of the mall. The unlucky lose their minds instead.

Lost Horse Road has been active since at least 1850, but there have been reports even earlier of this phenomenon from settlers and natives of the area.

Whispering Heights- technically called Willow Heights due to being near a cliff covered in willow trees, Whispering Heights is another liminal area. The Old Amity Park Church functioned as a meeting place for church, local events, the market, and was even the location of the schoolhouse.

Exact dates vary, but during a nasty winter, the town was buried in a blizzard. Many of the townsfolk came to the church for warmth and safety, but the old roof collapsed, burying at least 200 people alive. It's said since then, especially at night, one can hear the whispers of their shades.

Many have gone looking for the true source. None come back. The location was purchased and developed by a real estate group out of town. Since no one from Amity Park stayed longer than a few weeks, the location was abandoned. It was since purchased by locals who bricked up all windows pointing to the cliffs, and rarely has vacancies.

Bald Hill House- the location of a major story arc, Bald Hill House has long been haunted. The proprietor was rumored to have made a deal with the devil (or fae, or ghosts depending on the teller), offering human sacrifices in exchange for wealth and power. After his death, every plant from moss on a stone to trees on Bald Hill died.

No one knows what happened a few days before Halloween of 1990, but the Bald Hill House collapsed, and plant life quickly took over the area.

Fentonworks- a relatively new liminal area, no one knows exactly what went on in the basement there; just that it caused a newcomer to take custody of both the Fentons' children. However, it is a particularly haunted area. Unlike most liminal places, unless one is unlucky, it's a relatively safe place.

The Autumn House- built in 1968, the Autumn House is rumored to have belonged to a coven of witches. It's now haunted by several ghosts, most notably the ghosts of two children and the Wisconsin Ghost. It's another fairly safe area; none of the ghosts there are known for picking unnecessary fights, and if you're particularly lucky, you might be able to have a chat with a friendly ghost.

Crybaby Creek- another major location. Legends from local tribes about this place date back centuries, or possibly even thousands of years. Locals take them seriously, and have even installed barbed wire fencing with signs warning people about the area. Cops take turns driving by at night to look for stray headlights.

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skiplo-wave · 8 months

Note

Do you have any webtoon recommendations?

Half of these are completed but these are what I’m currently reading

Guy upstairs- cat and mouse of introvert girl vs serial killer neighbor currently on hiatus

Coffin Jackson- band of misfits and mortician try sell a dead body while against two monsters completed

Everything is fine- dystopia kinda like brave new world-1984 but lots of trauma and everyone has giant cat head currently on hiatus

It’s mine- Yandere stalker boy X girl but there’s legit plot to this as reason why characters are way they are. Starts of slow as a heads up completed

The boxer- OP character tries find meaning of life/will to live via boxing and meeting colorful cast of characters. On of my personal favorite webcomics of all time completed

Witch creek road- love craft horror plus hot monster babes. Also stay in circle completed

Rockababy- 1950/ greaser but also an alien adopts alien clown sister ( same creator for camp crystal lake via junkmixart ) completed

He loves me not- literally brand new I’m reading cause it’s Artist I follow on Twitter. Two bara men one looks like he can kill you lol ongoing

Batman Wayne family adventures- it’s batfam need I say more ongoing

Zomgan- OP character tries find meaning of life/will to live via boxing and meeting colorful cast of characters but make it post apocalyptic. Also don’t get attach to characters cause they will get killed off :) ongoing

SPCTR- very behind on this one but it’s sci-fi girl shares a body with an alien to save her brother ongoing

Homesick- monster apocalypse with literal colorful cast of characters. Lots of body horror/gore but Artist is very good giving trigger warnings ongoing

Boyfriends- lgbt+ comic, polycue with your typical jock/nerd/prep/jock very wholesome plus cast is Asian. If ou want break from irl queer troubles this is great escape from that ongoing

Heartstopper- another lgbt+ comic it’s wholesome but also tackles topic queer kids go through like coming out, mental health etc. ongoing this has a live action adaptation on Netflix which I also recommend

#asks #webcomic #webtoon #reading reccomendations

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thepringlesofblood · 1 year

Text

there’s 2 categories of lmam songs I listen to on repeat

lets make a music songs that are unironically beautiful and profound in their own way despite being made as a joke/goof song

flailing around on the side of the road

turn around and come down slowly

discarded in the thicket behind the outback steakhouse

can’t get you out of my head

echoes of wednesday

gentle light

the original wizard

the ocean is still there

song of green bastion

heartbreak at michael’s

heartbreak at michael’s reprise

let’s make a music songs that fuckin S L A P regardless of the level of goofs present.

madame zamporium’s wax emporium

alan rickman’s edible zoo

hunk night summer

fresh baby with a cola

iridescent all over

i told you that i was not a slug (but i lied)

horsecar

witchs’ potluck

mr 1981

mourning ritual

well im on child

debutaunt ball

save 2 4 tony

proud egg mouth

akimbo

Tobie’s Razor Scooter

Let Down My Better Dynamite

why dont you like our song title (slaps slightly less than the rest of them but the humor makes up for it)

arbor day

there there’s also these honorable mentions:

let’s make a music songs where the lore is better than the song (but the song isn’t nec. bad just the lore is better)

dr brims (gave me gender euphoria I didn’t know I needed)

haunted home (i almost put this in “slaps”, but the frequent “zoom” check ins, while genius in storytelling terms, kind of interrupt the Vibe of the music for me)

shan’t he shanty

rainbow trout eggs

the tale of the greazzy creek (i very much do not like the general audio experience of listening to this, but the lore, and hearing laura say “and alex pegnata, who’s just a fucking asshole!” in a bright nickelodeon announcer voice is fantastic)

wake up for big veg

medium rare

stalagmighty

astral PI

Out There (also slaps hard, but the story is such an integral component to why it slaps)

21st blitheday (I listened to this episode on my 21st birthday. it felt nice. this fucking song gets stuck in my head so easily that i can no longer listen to it without committing to like 3 months of twENtY OnE!)

sybil’s night scare

dreamless + ratless randy’s (another one I can’t listen to without committing to weeks of it being stuck in my head)

dragon me to this wedding (the story is fucking hilarious but the way he sings it gives me puff the magic dragon flashbacks which is Traumatic for me in ways I can’t explain. I just listen to the podcast ep)

stinky bug

this is 44/60 of their songs. they have a good hit rate what can i say.

#original post #lmam #bdg #thank u so much to the person who pointed out the criminal omission of heartbreak at michaels in the original post #i think about 'a mosaic kind of goodbye' at least twice a week

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myhauntedsalem · 3 months

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The Ada Witch

Ada, Michigan has the legend of the Ada Witch. In the 1800s, a woman would often meet her lover in the wooded area surrounding the cemetery on 2 Mile Road. Her husband somehow learned of her infidelity. One night, enraged with jealousy, he followed her to their rendezvous. Witnessing the lovers embrace, he boiled over with rage and murdered his wife on the spot. Then, diverted his attentions toward her lover. Unfortunately, the two were evenly matched. They fought, significantly injuring one another until they both succumbed to death.

A story like this is fairly common, but has raised several questions. Who was this woman? Where is she buried? Is the story even true? Did she really exist? Many who know of the story have taken it upon themselves to try and convert the legend in to fact. There is a grave in Findlay Cemetery visitors and ghost hunters alike thought it belonged to the Ada Witch as she is most often seen there. The headstone, partially broken, is being held in place by two posts. After a little research by determined fact seekers, it was discovered the grave belonged to a woman named Sarah A. McMillan who was not murdered but died of typhoid in 1870. There is another Sarah buried in the cemetery but there’s no evidence the lady of this story was even named Sarah. What about the name: Ada Witch? The legend includes no details of the woman being involved in witchcraft, no association with those who were. And yet, she was given the name Ada Witch.

Along with mounting questions are mounting paranormal experiences. The Ada Witch is believed to haunt several areas: Findlay Cemetery (where she is supposedly buried), Honey Creek Road (where her body was supposedly found), and Seidman Park (where she was supposedly murdered). She is sometimes described as being a beautiful dark haired woman in a white dress or a ghastly looking woman that bore the injuries of her murder. Other activity includes seeing bluish-green mists, orbs, footsteps, a woman weeping, bone chilling shrieks (male and female), being touched and sounds of a struggle.

Does the Ada Witch exist? People are witnessing something in Ada, Michigan. But if you’re thinking about visiting the areas where she is seen, I warn you not to trespass.

#The Ada Witch #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits #paranormal #haunted locations #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem #haunted cemeteries #paranormal phenomena #ghosts and spirits #ghosts #spirits

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oblivionsdream · 2 years

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Do you have any book recommendations?

Oh I’ve always got rec’s 😆

I apologize for the length. I originally tried to keep it brief but then gave up. I have too many books I would love of gush about. 😂

-I Hunt Killers by Barry Lyga: YA, thriller, son of a serial killer has to clear his name after similar murders to his father starts popping up. It’s dark but has a lot of snark and some rather lovable characters

-The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller: adult, LGBTQ+, a retelling of the Iliad that tells the story of Patroclus and Achilles

-Circe by Madeline Miller: adult, a retelling of the story of the witch Circe from Greek Mythology.

-Not Even Bones by Rebecca Schaeffer: a dark twisted supernatural YA, this is definitely for people who like screwed up characters that are definitely not the good guys. Maybe check out the trigger warnings before reading though

-Vicious by V.E Schwab: adult, it’s a roommates to enemies story where things go horribly wrong for two college roommates who do an experiment to gain super powers. One of them ends up in prison for ten years and once he gets out he’s determined to get revenge on the other. Also another book with screwed up dark characters.

-Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson: YA, fantasy, magic library, magic books, amazing characters and had the best demon servant ever. I really can’t hype this book enough

-Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta: YA, I can’t even begin to describe how this book made me feel. It follows two generations as it goes between past and present as Taylor deals with her past and the mystery of her mother who abandoned her on the Jellicoe Road

-In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan- YA, LGBTG+, fantasy, SO good and SO funny, kind of makes fun of a lot of fantasy tropes and the MC is such a snarky boy. Honestly just amazing

-Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon: adult, fantasy, LGBTQ+, epic fantasy with kick ass women and DRAGONS

-Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo: New Adult, Dark Academia with ghosts and some magic. Second book is coming out at the beginning of next year and I cannot wait!

-If We We’re Villians by M.L Rio: Adult, Dark Academia, Theatre students with a bit of murder, very good especially if you’re a fan of Shakespeare

-The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Reid Jenkins: adult, LGBTQ+, about the life of a golden age movie star

-Daisy Jones and the Six by Taylor Reid Jenkins: adult, about a 70’s rock band

-Malibu Rising by Taylor Reid Jenkins: adult, about the kids of a rock star who are all surfers. Honestly my favorite by this author. As an older sister who helped raise her younger siblings it hit very close to home

-Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas: YA, LGBTQ+, MC accidentally summons a ghost and they try to figure out the mystery of how he died and also what happened to the MC’s cousin.

-Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun: adult, rom com, LGBTQ+, involves a reality dating show but the main bachelor ends up falling for one of the guys working on the show. Super cute and wholesome

-One to Watch by Kate Stayman-London: adult, romance, another reality dating show but the MC is a plus sized woman. Super good book but warning for some fat phobia

-Tarot Sequence by K.D Edwards- adult, LGBTQ+, urban fantasy, great found family, lots of action and snark, MC is the last surviving member of the Sun Court and in the first book he gets hired to find the missing son of Lady Judgement (make sure to check the trigger warnings before reading)

-Literally anything by TJ. Klune but here are my favs

The Green Creek series: adult, LGBTQ+, werewolves, great found family,

How to be a Normal Person: adult, LGBTQ+, MC runs a movie rental store and falls for the new asexual hipster barista. Homestly just super cute and funny

House in the Cerulean Sea: all ages appropriate, fantasy, LGBTQ+, MC is a essentially a social worker for magic kids and he gets sent to evaluate an orphanage that houses the anti christ and falls for the childrens care giver. This may be the cutest book I have ever had the privilege of reading

-Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao: YA, Sci Fi, LGBTQ+, blood thirsty bad ass woman MC who is out to get revenge on her sisters killer and also fights aliens in a giant mechs suit

-Winters Orbit by Everina Maxwell: adult, Sci Fi, LGBTQ+, arranged marriage trope where the two MC’s are also trying to solve a murder to stop an interplanetary war

-Sadie by Courtney Summers: YA, thriller, a pod cast follows the story of Sadie, a missing girl who is out for revenge for the death of her sister. I could not put this one down

-To Be or Not to Be by Ryan North: this one is just a fun choose your own adventure Hamlet retelling. It’s so chaotic

-Legendborn by Tracy Deonn: YA, fantasy, it’s like the story of Arthur but reinvented and was just a fun time.

-Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green: I’m not usually a non fiction kind of person but this was lovely, very introspective and filled with life

-We Are the Ants by Shaun David Hutchinson: YA, LGBTQ+, MC has been abducted by aliens but no body believes him. The aliens give him a choice- if he presses this button humanity will be saved. If he doesn’t everyone will die. The MC has decide whether humanity is truly worth saving after all.

-Our Bloody Pearl by D.N Bryn: adult, fantasy, LGBTQ+, a blood thirsty siren gets captured by pirates and held prisoner for a year until they are essentially rescued when a different set of pirates attack and take over the ship. They slowly begin to trust and befriend the new pirate captain

-Check, Please! by Ngozi Ukazu: sports, LGBTQ+, graphic novel, hockey, baking and a great team of friends, super cute and funny

-Fence by C.S Pacat and Sarah Rees Brennan: sports, LGBTQ+, it’s both a mixture of graphic novels and regular novels, involves fencing and a cast of lovable characters, also very funny

-Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg: adult, LGBTQ+, this one is an older book but I love it, it’s the story of a small town in the South and the people who live there. The movie is also splendid and one of my favorites of all time.

#I tried to include a variety of books #hope this helps!#book recs

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bensbooks · 6 months

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2023 Highlight: Far Creek Road

It’s 1961, and Mary Alice (Tink) Parker is nine years old. She lives with her parents in a Vancouver suburb where many fathers are traumatized veterans of the Second World War and almost all the mothers are housewives. They believe they’ve earned secure and prosperous lives after the sacrifices they made during the war. But under the conformist veneer seethe conflicts and secrets that make the serenity of Grouse Valley precarious. The story of the unraveling of the neighborhood is told by Tink, an eccentric child who is funny, observant, and impossibly nosy, with a tendency to blurt whatever’s on her mind. Bucolic at first, the story darkens as McCarthy-era paranoia infects the adults and spills over into the lives of the children. The parents of Tink’s best friend Norman are schoolteachers with leftist beliefs. When the Cuban Missile Crisis threatens, Norman’s parents face a witch hunt while the boy becomes a target of bullies. Tink does her best to defend Norman. But as she looks for help, Tink stumbles on a web of secrets — including evidence of a torrid affair — that will change their lives forever.

#books #booklr #bookblr #book highlight

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farm-witches-fic-recs · 2 years

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Hello there, you! This weekend marks the unofficial end of summer for the witches and friends that live in Northern Hemisphere, so we decided to celebrate with some warm, sunshine-filled fics.

We hope you enjoy these seasonal adventures and leave the creators some love!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

All I really need (is to know that you believe) (cottagepods, @dinnfameron, @goodiecornbread) “It's Pride in Schitt's Creek! Alexis is visiting to attend the summer festival and to figure out what it all means to her. Witty banter, queer feels, and Patrick & Alexis sibling bonding.”

All the roads we have to walk (meadowharvest) David and Patrick are each other’s first loves in this sweet, fun high school/summer camp AU.

I hate sports! (@petrodobreva) “David tries something new and has to deal with his boyfriend getting a little TOO take charge in this delightful Summer Camp AU.”

If not for you (goingmywaydoll) “This AU is lyrical and poetic and just plain delightful as high school-aged best friends Patrick and David road trip across rural Ontario. It’s deliciously achey in all the right places and so true to the experience of knowing how you feel about someone but not being quite able to name it. Please take a ride with this fic.” (Bonus art)

Partner in play… (@startswithhope) Gorgeously soft and sexy. David tanning and Patrick strumming his guitar on a summer’s afternoon.

People worth missing, things worth sharing (@grapehyasynth) David gets all up in his feels on a summer evening with his husband and in-laws.

Salt air and the rust on your door (Amanita_Fierce, @dairaliz, doingthemost (@sarahlevys), @roguebebe, @schittposting, @sunlightsymphony) “Alexis, Stevie, Twyla, and Ruth meet as teenagers in a seaside town. This fic (with accompanying art & podfic) is the perfect blend of sweet and hot, like ice cream on a summer's day.“

Until the sun comes down (bigficenergy/@fraudulentzodiac) Patrick and David and Stevie beat a heat wave in an inflatable pool. What more do you need to know?

The weekend (and it’s you) (barelypink) “This fic is a classic adventure where Patrick meets David in his old life. Despite that, neither of them can deny the chemistry between them.”

#farmwitchfaves #farm witch first friday #farm witch fic rec #SC fic #schitts creek fic #sc fanfic #sc fic rec #david x patrick #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #alexis rose #stevie budd #the Brewers

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lizardtracks · 2 years

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Forecast: Cloudy and Cool

Jericho enjoys a dry spot in the Outback

10/19/22

I spent an October Saturday night scrunched in the hatch of a Subaru Outback with a Doberman and a Siberian Husky. The simple truth that put me there is this: you don’t need a weatherman to tell which way the wind blows.

Dylan aside, if you like camping in the mountains during cool, cloudy weekends, Arizona might not be your bag. We have sunny. We have hot. We have frigid. We have dry. And we have drenched. Moderation is not a game we play. But that’s what I wanted: cool and cloudy. And a week of watching the Willcox weather forecast convinced me that the Chiricahuas might finally deliver. We got the gang together and planned to go camping.

The Monsters and I took off on Friday, the advance party. We arrived at our spot just north of Pine Canyon Camp** with the weather spot on. The Monsters ran free. Or walked with me. We went first to Hoovey Canyon, then up into Pinery Camp. It sprinkled once. The predicted .05 inches of rain. But mostly it was gloriously cool. It was even more gloriously green. And Pine Creek was rushing and full throated.

The Monsters had trouble puzzling out why, after the walks, we didn’t get back in the car to go home. But one more 9 PM stroll up the gravel road to Downing Pass, settled them in for the night. They on moving blankets and tarps. Me on my cot.

Saturday began as lather, rinse, repeat. But this time we extended our second walk past Pine Canyon Camp up to the old water tank. On the way back we explored some of the spots where the camp buildings—first constructed in 1946–once stood. We had just finished exploring a dim path through The Stations of the Cross when it began sprinkling again. Half-heartedly at first. Then with ominous enthusiasm. We started back at a brisk walk. The Monsters soon broke away to greet my son and our friend Mike, newly arrived.

I spread a tarp over my cot and bag. They set up their tents in the ever more insistent drizzle. Arriving with the boom of distant thunder, Josh and Kylie rolled in just in time to toss up a tent before the clouds cracked opened. With that, the idea of the dogs being wet and having to spend the night out became real. With an “Up!” I got them in the hatch and curled myself into the front seat to wait out the downpour.

The day did end up being lather, rinse and repeat. The rain subsided. We all climbed out of our shelters. The rain rolled in again. We all climbed back in. I began to feel like we were reverse mole people. During one pause, we managed to light a fire and cook dinner. During another, I hiked up the road the see out over the cliffs. And there was the problem. The clouds just weren’t moving. They simply hung over us dripping liquid.

The Chiricahuas were sopping wet long before we arrived. So this new supply didn’t soak in. It ran off. Rivulets of water were running under everyone’s tents. Water was leaking into Josh and Kylie’s. My cot was wet. My son abandoned his $30 tent to bunk in his borrowed Outback. I, knowing it would bring a sleepless night, decided to share my Sube with the dogs.

Around 9 PM Josh and Kylie tossed in the towel. They packed up and left. I hung out with The Monsters until 9:30. But as soft, warm and calm as Suzie the Siberian was, I knew I had to create some awake time. With the rain down to an occasional spatter, I re-lit the fire and cracked a beer.

I don’t know how many logs I’d tossed into the Solo Stove before the clouds broke. But I do know it was midnight. The witching hour. When the clouds dispersed, the now bright Hunter Moon was chasing Jupiter toward the western canyon wall. The Ponderosa pines receded into a mist toward Downing Pass. The moonlight caught the angle of reflectance on some tree leaves behind me. The soft phosphorus highlights on the wet leaves turned it into a Christmas tree subdued to the point of elegance. The pine log flames, enhanced by the Solo Stove, flickered in mesmerizing shapes and colors. All sounds in the sopping wet woods were dampened to silence. It was like being in a magical vortex.

Wanting to remain in the magic, I sacrificed another log or two. Well past the witching hour the clouds closed in again. The beer had lost its charm. A bigger brighter fire would wait until morning. I stashed my chair under a tarp before squeezing myself into the open end of the Subaru. With the only spot for my left hand on the warm double-coat of the Husky I closed my eyes and drifted off.

Somehow I managed to sleep almost five hours. I eased out the cramps, stood up, and ambled right back to the stove. A check of the weather forecast confirmed that we could expect partly cloudy with moments of fire and beer.

So, yeah. If you want to camp during a cool, cloudy weekend in the mountains, Arizona might not be your bag. If you are willing to endure something wetter there may be some magic in your night.

**Pine Canyon Camp, formerly Methodist Camp, was dismantled in 2019. Barely a trace of it exists.

#siberian husky #chiricahua #monsoon #rain #doberman #mountains #camping

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