shilohaddams
30 posts
the DARKNESS IN A WOMAN is such that, stripped of our sight, we must feel our way through it. – we crawl, we enter her circles of H E L L until we sympathize with her s o r r o w, until we learn from her rage. – segovia amil
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The Witching Hour
Her eyes picked up at the sound of the overhead bell ringing. It was a slow shift, despite everything that had happened the last few days. Shiloh was thankful for it, thankful for the quiet. It let her refocus her energies on where it mattered most, it let her hide away from the reality they were finding themselves in. The world was toppling onto it’s side, how long before everything was in total chaos was unknown. And yet, there was an eery feeling inside her core that destruction would come sooner rather than later.
The familiar face creeping into the doorway managed to bring a grin to the necromancer’s lips as she set the now clean glass on the bar top. “What brings you in?”, she asked carefully, letting the grin on her lips morph into a smirk. “She’s not here today, just me, so I’m going to assume you’re hear to drink away the bonfire too?” @waylon-hughes
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kbarncs:
There was no doubt in his mind that something bad was going to happen during the event. Whether it will be at the fault of the werewolves was yet to be decided, but nothing good could come out of every supernatural creature mixing in with the human population around a big ass fire in the middle of no where. “I’m not grumpy,” he huffed, bringing the rapidly warming can of beer to his lips to try and finish it off before the hot temperatures got to it. “I’m just a lil stressed is all,” he pointed towards the bonfire, a place where he’d spotted at least seven werewolves all getting drunk. “Just fucking stressed as per usual,” he flashed her a smile and a lopsided shrug, Yeah I think changing that piece in her engine fixed our problems. For now. Just be gentle on her. Don’t want it breakin’ down out in the middle of no where tonight.”
Shiloh’s eyes didn’t ned to drift over to the growing group of werewolves by the fire to know what Kit was talking about. She didn’t need to look for the wolf responsible for her fear to know he was in the crowd, Shiloh always knew. She felt it in her bones, she felt the fear in her soul, enough to draw her further away from people she had thought to be her friends. “Trust me, I know”, she sighed, resisting the urge to reach up and run her fingers along the jagged claw marks that tainted her skin with a story she wanted nothing more than to forget. “Well then, it sounds like you’re carrying me home on your back tonight since I drove Lucy here tonight”, Shiloh teased, crumpling her napkin and leaving it on her half empty plate. “Or we could just camp out in the back of her if things don’t get too shitty.”
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gabeaccosta:
The night, thus far, had gone better than the man could have imagined and for the first time in a long time, he was actually enjoying himself. It was to the credit of the company he kept — Gabe could admit that much. Grabbing the nozzle, he tilted his cup and filled it back up, bringing the rim to his lips just a Shiloh came to stand beside him. “Just an ounce,” he grinned, bumping into the witch’s shoulder playfully as he shook his head. “We’re just getting to know each other,” he commented, oceanic hues scanning the crowd for the blonde, failing to find her. “But, I like her.” Another grin. Shiloh was perhaps the only person, other than Tiber, Gabe would have felt comfortable enough with to divulge such information. “So, yeah. I’m having a good night. What about you, Addams? What have you been up to?”
It was odd to hear Gabe speak such a way about someone, but odd in the perfect way. If there was anyone who deserved a bit of happiness in this hell town, it was Gabe. It was the wolf who didn’t care that she was a witch when he saved her from the wolf, who didn’t care the atrocities she was capable of, that deserved the best. And Shiloh could think of no better than Vienna. “Well good, but if you hurt her you know what I have to do”, she sighed, not that hurting him was something Shiloh was even remotely capable of, not anymore. “Me? Well, you know the usual. Witchy mischief on people who least expect it, cursing those with broken hearts to do my bidding, and drinking maybe just a little too much”, of all those things, there was only one that was true. The witch offered him a grin, extending her cup out for another refill. “Want to be my enabler?”
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Elizabeth Olsen Variety Portrait Studio Emmys 2019: Lead Actress Contenders
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Harlan Johnson’s Cornfield for @gabeaccosta
It didn’t take long for Shiloh to notice two of her friends in a distance, a feeling bubbled up inside of her that was hard to place and hard to describe. It was joy, an odd kind of joy that came at seeing the grin that crossed both of her friends faces. If there was anyone who deserved a bit of fun, it was them. As her night continued and the drinks flowed, Shi had lost track of her friend in the fun. Spotting Gabe alone at the keg had her raising up to her feet again, moving to stand silently besides the wolf. “Who would of known that you had any ounce of game in you”, she commented, extending out her cup in hope of a refill. “Having a good night tonight?”
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Harlan Johnson’s Cornfield for @emmamohen-buck
“Fancy seeing you here”, Shiloh couldn’t help but chide as sh moved to stand beside the vampire in question. It had been too long since she had seen Emma on a basis that wasn’t purely business. Their secrets were safe with each other, their relationship was beneficial, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t enjoy the vampire’s company. “Wouldn’t think corn hole and lukewarm beer was your kind of thing?”, the necromancer questioned, drawing back a strand of golden hair from her eyes. “Not that I’m complaining, this place was starting to get a little boring.”
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kbarncs:
Location: Harlan Johnsons Cornfield Who: @ fuckin anyone
The bonfire was surrounded by people, Kit couldn’t believe how many people actually bothered to come out for the little event. He couldn’t even find a reason to why he bothered to come. The place was swarming with werewolves, vampires, probably witches among them as well. However he’d never been good at picking them out. Sitting a little farther back at one of the picnic tables erratically placed around the field. He looked to the person who decided to sit across from him. Kit pointed a finger at the corner of his own mouth to try and guide the other to the mess they’d made, “You have ketchup on your face.”
Maybe it was lame to admit, but Shiloh was a sucker for events like this. Free food and beer was enough to get her out of the alleyway in which the Witching Hour was housed, but promise of a night with some of her friends was always welcome. The ruthless part of her soul knew that nothing good could come and part of her loved to watch the storm roll in. Though, as she peered across the table at Kit, she knew that was not a mutual feeling. “Maybe I was saving it for later”, she countered easily, at first attempting to lick it from the corner of her mouth before giving up in favor of her napkin. “What’s got you all grumpy today? Lucy hasn’t broken down in an entire week, that’s cause for celebration alone.”
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jcmesdoug:
“Pretty sure Sweeny knows how to hide a secret,” Doug commented with a simple shrug. After all, being the mayor surely came with its pros and cons, the wolf could imagine. Orbs followed the book as it was thrown over her shoulder, the corner of his lip slightly tugging up at the sight of it, finally landing on the ground with a dull thud. He noticed the subtle change of mood as Shiloh spoke and moved around. He’d seen it with some other witches, too. Something was off, the vibe just wasn’t right and he felt it too. “Mhm, still waters run deep.” The man looked too innocent, but that was just Doug’s opinion. He’d never been the mayor’s biggest fan. Turning his head, his eyes searched the shelf until they landed on the cat figurine in question. With a raised brow, his hand reached out for it and grabbed it, turning it in his hand as his eyes examined the small porcelain figure. Handing it over to her, he couldn’t help but tease. “What? Does it have some dark witch-y powers?”
“Oh absolutely, you can’t feel the dark energy just seeping off of this little guy”, she gushed, pressing the porcelain figure to her cheek as a grin etched onto her features. There was nothing special about this figure, nothing that screamed anything more than a nicknack to decorate a shelf. But Shiloh had something else in mind, a frustration that had been building up in her core since she stepped into the manor. It was a mixture of annoyance and rage. Shiloh pulled the figure from her cheek and looked down at it’s silly painted on expression. Suddenly, she pulled her elbow back, throwing the cat across the distance and against the wall. A grin seemed to form on her features as the shattered pieces fell to the ground. “I just hate cats.”
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cecilyhale:
One of the first things Cecily had done after old Hogdkins and Figgs passed away all those years ago was to create a small garden out behind the shop in their honor. Hodgkins had always had a green thumb and would talk Cecily’s ears off about the types of plants that grew best in Colorado soil, how they reacted to the altitude…the list went on and on. It was only fitting to create a little oasis off the patio just outside the back door where she could escape during a lunch break or just spend time when she wasn’t quite ready to go home.
Today was warmer than it had been in a while, and Cecily had wanted to get in some time with her friend before she had to lock herself up at home again. She kicked the door open, then shut, with the heel of her shoe before handing her friend a glass of iced tea. She slipped into the second wrought-iron deck chair, knees raising to meet her chest, and took a sip before eyes shifted to Shiloh. “Any luck?” she asked casually, though she knew that has Shiloh any way to stop the upcoming transformation, she would have alerted her already.
@shilohaddams
This was always a time of the month that brought a heavy heart to the young necromancer. It was the time of the month that she had to inform a friend that she had once again failed to find anything to help her curse. Never would she admit to Cecily that she was worried no cure would come or at least, no suppressant either. One day maybe, but right now the necromancer was running on very little to no faith. “Unfortunately, no”, she sighed, taking the tea with a forced grin. It was never easy to rip off the bandaid.
“I know I’ve asked this a hundred times, but is it really that bad?”, she sighed, taking a sip of the tea and setting the glass aside. “Is it that you absolutely hate being a wolf or that you miss being a witch?”
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lennyxdauphine:
“Not sure if you’re referring to Blackvale or New Orleans there. Nola had its thrills, think I might miss the gumbo most. And their cemeteries were always bigger, more extravagant.” Far more enticing to traipse around in during the so-called witching hour, at least. So much of home could be missed by the witch if she allowed herself to linger on thoughts of her former life too long, so she opted to remain in the present as various headstones passed them by. Each one not quite hitting the mark for Lenny, but she knew that Shiloh always had the potential to pluck the best spirit of the bunch. “Dealer’s choice. I’m not picky.”
“Absolutely, nothing with ever beat the voodoo priestess we raised”, Shiloh could remember her old life, the one she had briefly before coming to Blackvale. It was fun and exciting, but there was also the rebellious spirit that had grown so strong at the time. Older and wiser was what she liked to say, even if it was far from the truth. A wicked grin easily seemed to form on the necromancer’s features, it was always fun being the one who got to choose. Her eyes fluttered shut as she listened carefully to the cries of the voices of the dead. Who wanted to be raised, who wanted to bring forth their spirit, but who was going to be the most interesting. “Former pageant queen who was murdered in this very grave yard sound interesting?”
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dhorreurs:
Philippe had been in Blackvale for six months now and while he had walked into that trap well aware of what he was getting himself into, how much he was risking simply by stepping into town, his restlessness found no comfort in awareness. The vampire took a stroll for the sake of catching some air as soon as it was dark. There was some amount of freedom about walking under the stars. His feet took him towards The Witching Hour, however, trained by now to seek those he regarded above most townsfolk. The place was rather unique for a Colorado establishment, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. He made his way over to the bar where a blonde pressed a towel into a fresh cut.
Leaning into the bar, Philippe smiled at the girl. “A nice bottle of wine or a neat scotch — whatever you have that is best.” He had been there many times and all he knew about her was that she was called Shiloh. The usual buzz got him preoccupied with whatever company he found within four walls, and since she was working, there was never time for idle chit chat. It was a slow night though and thus he didn’t bother striking up conversation. “I would expect more people to be around tonight. In the wake of a tragedy, people tend to turn to their vices, don’t they? You must be making a buck in this town.”
Emerald eyes picked up from the blood stained skin to the man before her, not a regular but not a stranger either. There was something familiar about him even, something that had her turning her heel as soon as his drink was poured. Not that she wasn’t curious as to where his face seemed to come from or why there was an unsettling anxiety that formed in her core at him. It was that he reeked of a life she had tried to forget. However, it seemed that fate had a different idea for them tonight. “Most nights it’s pretty busy, but I think most people are scared to venture out after everything”, she confessed, turning her back to the man as she discarded the towel.
“I’ll go grab you that bottle of wine. We hide the good stuff from the freeloaders, plus the bandaids are that way anyway”, she confessed, motioning back towards the store room. It wasn’t long that Shiloh disappeared from the bar, moving quickly as to not leave her establishment unattended. When she returned with a purple bandaid over her finger and two bottles settled under her arms. “So we don’t normally get many people asking for anything too fancy when it comes to wine, so my best bottle in storage right now is a Stag’s Leap Cab from California. If you’d rather the scotch, I did just get a rare cask Macallen 25?”
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meredithadley:
For as long as Meredith could remember, a bottle of whiskey and an old friend was always the way she could best solve her problems. Contrary to popular belief, most times, the alcohol cleared her mind from all the collateral damage left in the wake of whatever shit storm she was dealing with that day. And at the moment, she was dealing with her fair share of problems — to no surprise, it had everything to do with Caleb Loche. The man who she loved, the man who she had been seeing for an upward of three years, on and off of course. She hadn’t explained much of what had happened to her friend Shiloh, mostly because she wanted to be half in the bottle before she even got started, but now it was time to cough up her truth to her friend.
The blood was rushing to her head as she allowed herself to lay partly upside down off of the bar top. She groaned when Shiloh asked for her attention, so in an instant, the woman drunkenly swung herself to sit upright and stabilized herself with her hand next to her. The bottle of whiskey found Meredith’s hand and after taking a swig, the woman began speaking.
“Caleb proposed to me.” She admitted, words slightly slurred as they fell from her lips. A heavy sigh followed and she took one more drink from the bottle before setting it back down. “But he only did it so I wouldn’t leave him. Stupid bastard.” Drunken Meredith often resorted to calling Caleb names that were rude and not well-suited, but it was one of the only ways she could get her emotions out.
The young witch had never been one to stray away from people purely based on who they were or what curse plagued them. Were they cursed by spirits? Were they cursed by the moon? Were they cursed by the sun? None of that mattered to Shiloh, at least it was how she was raised. It was why most of her best friends were werewolves or why she had no problem walking along the streets at night when the vampires awoke. People were people, one thing she could say the dead had taught her through their whispers.
Another thing the dead had taught her, was how to hate. Hate those who had wronged her. It was why her parents ended up dead in the ground. It was why her breath caught in her throat every time Meredith mentioned Caleb.
Shiloh brought the whiskey bottle to her lips once Meredith set the bottle back down. “Do you want to leave him? Or are you pissed because you wanted him to actually mean his proposal?”, she questioned, once the burning in her throat and shoulder subsided.
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talisademirci:
&&who: @shilohaddams &&where: The Witching Hour &&where: 9pm
The most recent events in Blackvale had put Talisa on the defensive. Especially Mayor Sweeny’s death- rest his damned soul. Similar to the way that her mother had died, some creature had gotten to poor Sweeny and decided to make him a grande finale to a strange evening. If someone was bold enough to kill the mayor in front of a crowd, what stopped it from going after anyone else. It was time to close their ranks.
Such had been the goal of the Council’s new rules, ones that bordered on harsh but necessary. As each representative made their way to the table, it became abundantly clear that they didn’t know what they were dealing with. And with Blackvale’s curse, this thing would be confined to the city. While Talisa truly couldn’t get herself to care about vampires and wolves, her witches were of the utmost importance to her. That sense of loyalty propelled her to move some chess pieces, errands and debts put in place to guarantee their safety. For now, she was making her rounds to every witch stronghold- the Witching Hour being one of them. Walking into the bar, the brunette immediately spotted Shiloh Addams.
Talisa slid into an empty seat, an easy smile lighting up her features before she spoke. “You know I’d usually go for a glass of wine but today? Care to surprise me?”
There was a sour taste that was left in the mouth of the young witch as the latest decree fell upon them. Rules that were punishable by death left it feeling as if nothing more than a tyrant was striking the rules and controlling their lives like strings of a puppet. Shiloh knew better than to say anything, at least, she knew that for now. Instead of causing waves, she would resign to pouring drinks for the people that flocked to the bar and listening to the complaints of the people around.
What surprised her was the way the woman who took a seat at the bar. It wasn’t often that the regent herself came to visit her. Shiloh liked it that way, even if she saw Talisa as one of her friends. It was less temptation, less lies, and less of worry that lay on her shoulders. And yet, there was always an enjoyment when the all powerful herself decided to join the necromancer for a drink. “Today is a day that is calling for something stronger for everyone”, she sighed, though busy hands were already working in finding just what the day called for.
“What brings you to me today?”, she asked curiously, fetching one of the top shelf whiskey bottles. Shiloh was quick to muddle the small amount of sugar and adding the whiskey, finishing off the drink with an orange peel for garnish. “An old fashioned seemed fitting”, Shi announced playfully, setting the drink down before Talisa. “Though if sweet isn’t your thing I can just always give a glass of brandy.”
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the witching hour
“Oh thank god”, the blonde hummed over the top of the large box in her arms the second she spotted Vienna within their old creaky bar. A large part of the soul of this place came from Vienna, a witch that had reminded Shiloh that there was more to life than remaining in control. A friendship that had spurred and grown in a town where nothing was supposed to thrive but to feel trapped. And yet, in a way, the same trapped souls made it almost a home.
Shiloh set down the box full of various alcohol bottles with a huff, ignoring the slight sweat she had been breaking unloading the supply truck. “I really don’t know why I hired anyone else at this place if they don’t ever come to work”, she sighed, motioning back towards the back of the bar. “I’ve got about twenty boxes that needed to be unloaded this morning but never got done. Would you absolutely hate me if I asked you to hang around with your favorite boss and help me out?”, the question came with little too no hesitation. Though Shiloh knew she was asking a lot from her friend. “We can even pick a bottle of something good to make it go by faster before we can do something more enjoyable.” @viennaoclair
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the witching hour
Oddly enough, these were the moments that Shiloh had ultimately taken over ownership of the Witching Hour. Not for the crazy nights full of people mingling and sharing a drink, but the moments that she could lay on top of the bar in the early morning hours with an old friend.
The witch laid along the bar with messy tresses of hair cascading over the edge, the half drank bottle of whiskey perched just above her head. Boot clad foot tapped along with the medley of nineties hits that echoed through the otherwise empty bar. It brought back the memories of good times, simpler times where there was just her and Mer chasing the moon clad skies away with a drink. As they grew older and apart, it seemed these nights were growing few and far between. A distance that seemed all too natural with the many obstacles that seemed to appear out of thin air. But when they were there with that old juke box playing, it seemed as if there was no distance at all.
As 3 AM by Matchbox Twenty began, Shiloh sat up straight and offered out the whiskey bottle. “So are you going to tell me what happened?” @meredithadley
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jcmesdoug:
Doug mirrored the same grin that was playing on her features. Wouldn’t be the first time, and probably not the last time, either. “Love affairs? Any leverage in there? Maybe we can use it to blackmail him.” There was a certain humor behind his words, it always seemed to be men like the mayor who had some sort of hidden affair. He could enjoy things like that, and would gladly be the one to put this piece of news out in the open. Doug either enjoyed stirring shit, or stayed as far away from it as he could. There was really no in between. “Tell me ‘bout it,” he agreed with a sigh, eyes scanning the other parts of the room he had yet to explore. “Can you understand this man has a library, too, in this goddamn mansion?” Doug expressed with a short roll of his eyes. “Like there ain’t enough books already in here.”
The witch shut the journal with a huff, unsatisfied with the words or stories that detailed the pages. Nothing interesting or worth sharing noted, as if the journal had been planted among the study for the purpose of this game. Shiloh tossed the book over her shoulder with little regard to where it landed. “Nothing, maybe it was his dream journal because there is no way that he is that squeaky clean”, or maybe it was just the black cloud that seemed to hang over her head this entire night. “My money is that it’s all for show too, we all know that Mad Sweeney doesn’t actually do shit”, she nodded, sitting on top of the desk as emerald hues danced around the room, just taking it all in. “Can you had me that stupid little cat figurine?”, she asked, holding her hand towards the porcelain figure that seemed too innocent to be in a place like this.
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gui-duvalier:
THE BROOM ROOM ft. @shilohaddams
Each day felt longer than the last, but Guillaume had surrendered to the fact many years ago. He was a slave to the spirits, and once upon a time, he’d made a career out of fighting them. It had never done him any good, as they’d simply rally and come back on him tenfold. What was worse, is that there was never anyone that he could talk to about it. He’d made that mistake exactly one time, and just short of having his ass tossed into the looney bin indefinitely, he’d managed to plead depression- escaping confinement just barely. It had not been an easy life. But then he met Shiloh, and she was different. Instead of calling his mannerisms into question, she’d recognized them instead. The small crease in his brow in response to a silent question. The discomfort etched throughout his features when he’d been on the receiving end of an unheard beratement. She was a godsend, truly. It was the first time Gui had ever experienced what it meant to have a proper best friend. He couldn’t believe that he had gone so long suffering alone. “Hey.” Gui offered a smile, having recognized her presence right away, hardly needing to look up from his deck to deduce that she’d arrived. “What are you doing here? Slow day at the watering hole?”
The first moment she heard the whispers of the dead had been a moment of joy, a moment that had given a young witch hope in a bad situation. It was the whispers of the dead that had saved her, protected her when she needed it most. From that moment on, Shiloh Addams had been able to see the blessing in her curse. Even if there were days when all she wanted was silence, when all she hoped for was to wake up without a voice beckoning her on through the rest of the day. But then something changed when she found a comrade in arms, someone else who listened to the stories and the screams of those who had been lost to the world.
It had been a shock to hear of another who shared her ability, but the moment she saw him was the moment she knew that it was the truth. Ticks and quirks gave him away, but only because she was searching. Hoping for it to be truth, if there was another then maybe there was a chance for growth and control of this gift the dominated their lives.
“I couldn’t even tell you, decided to take today off. I believe they’re called mental health days, but we both know I don’t have any mental health”, she teased playfully as she took the seat across from him. “Was hoping to run into you actually, it’s been a minute since we’ve hung out. Or since you’ve peaked into my future”, Shiloh fell silent, a gentle grin remaining on her lips. Dark nails tapped against the wood of the table while the witch contemplated asking, but there had been an unsettling feeling in her core since the event at the former mayor’s home. “What do you say?”
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