#Witchy morgue

[witchymorgue]

grim gif

[j0celynh0rr0r]

Drowning

[bookish--witch]

You've been seein' me in your dreams but

I'll be there when your reality drowns

[pinkthrone445]

-My wife-

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Gender:SMUT, hurt.

Warnings: Witchy SMUT! Strap on use, magic, insults. Spoilers from the series.

Summary: after loosing your wife, you beg the witch to take you to the road to find her.

An: Thank you @neverfindmegone for the icon babyyyy ❤️ I love it so much

-"Agnnes... Love... Wake up baby..."-a soft voice sounded on the ears of the woman, that voice was sweet, inviting, peaceful-"Please wake up Aggy" - The soft pet name made her smile in her dreams, soft hands caressed her arms-"I'm begging you, wake up, I need you..." - The voice distorted, making her frown on her peaceful dream-"YOU ARE FREAKING ME OUT, COME BACK! WAKE UP AGATHA!!" - a pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and shook her, a high pitch scream made her wake up, sitting straight on the bed, her heart beating like a drum. She looked around the room scared, everything was empty, quiet, dark. Her chest raised along with her scared breathing. She tried to remember the sweet face that pronounced those soft words in her dream, but she couldn't quite place it. She looked at herself and she was completely naked and confused, she felt like she where slepping for 3 years straight.

She remembered something about a case, founding a dead body... Then a girl slipping into her house and interrogating her, getting her arrested. Also another detective talking to her... Something about a morgue and she reliving all the stages that Wanda made the hex live through... Fuck! How long she had been trapped there?

She got up from bed and ran outside still naked, talking to her neighbors she found out that she had been trapped on that fake  reality inside the hex for 3 years and she didn't remember anything from it.

She went back to the house and tried to use her powers but nothing happened, her house was a normal home and the only thing she recognized there was her rabbit.

From the basement she heard noises inside the house, grabbing a spoon, she went to investigate. She pinpointed the surce of the noise from a closet, ready to strike, she open the door, only to find you there, a girl she didn't knew but that she remembered from the night before when she "arrested" you. You were on your knees tied up and with tape on your mouth, your eyes showed a little fear and something else behind them

-"Ah, so that arrest was less like an arrest and more like a kidnapping" - she said looking at you-"But if you are real and not an invention of my prisoned mind, that means..."-at that moment the door bursted open, a girl in black that you have seen at the house the night before, attacked Agatha using a knife and her powers, she was clearly winning, but Agatha was incredible persuasive with her words and she managed to convince Rio to wait for her to get her powers back so they could have a fair fight. The scene was brutal but sexy at the same time, full of passion and sexual tension that made you feel sick on your stomach.

When the lady in black went away, Agatha payed attention to you again

-"Oh right..."-she left you there and went to change muttering a few nonsenses and worries. You started jumping trying to follow her- "The house is yours random girl, make sure to tell the revenge seekers that I said hi"-she said without any intentions to untie you before leaving. With your tongue you manage to unstick the tape on your mouth

-"Take me to the road"-You yelled at her and she stoped on her tracks walking to where you were

-"Come again?" - she told you getting closer, taking the tape from your mouth

-"Take me to the witches road" - You repeated-"Please?" - You smiled at her

-"The witches road doesn't exists..."-she spoked with a anoying face

-"You are lying" - You knew she was

-"Am I?" - she played dumb

-"That's just what real witches say to keep the amateurs out"-she seemed surprised to hear that-"The road will give you what you desire most if you make it to the end... And I can. I will" - You said surely and she looked you up and down, but after a few seconds, she left you behind again

-"The road is no place for a teen" - she told you without looking at you

-"I'm in my latest 20!"-You screamed but she didn't seemed to care

-"I don't know where you heard from the road..." - she began to explain

-"Books, the balad, legends, lore, my wife..."-you tried to explain but she continued talking

-"But it will kill you" - she assured

-"It didn't kill you" - You replied

-"I'm exceptional" - she said arrogantly

-"That's my point... I know a lot about you and that's why I came here last night... To break that spell you where under..."-You confessed and she seemed impressed

-"Well, if you can break a spell made by the Scarlett witch, why do you need the road?" - she asked and you sat on her couch, jumping so much around made you tired

-"I don't seek power... I seek someone... The road promises that what you are missing, will wait you at its end... She is what I'm missing..."-You said honestly and she thought about it for a second, but then she stood and walked away

-"Nope, too risky, no time" - she left you behind again

-"This people that are seeking you are dangerous, do you think you can outrun them with no power at all?"-she turned around after hearing you. That seemed to convinced her, because she brought a par of scissors and told you that you were driving.

She explained that you needed a coven to get to the witches road and that you could find one practically close.

You ended up finding the first one on a pretty cheap store that could tell your future. After some very good tactics of Agatha, you found out that she truly was a witch and she ended up joining her coven, also she gave you the names of the next witches and you found them all, convincing them in different ways, mostly blackmailing them or making them feel shame, but at the end all of them appeared on the house ready to walk the road.

You had a near death experience but at the end you all finally found the road and used it to escape the Salem seven.

The road felt weird, the constant fog and the dark sky, felt like if someone was constantly following you or watching you and it made you act weird too. You decided to say close to the only person that you knew following Agatha every where, and that didn't went unnoticed by the others.

As soon as Sharon or Mrs Heart began to talk, everyone started bickering about each other, about being followed by creepy people, about what trials were about to happen and about how everyone was powerless

-"She is here and clearly she isn't even a witch" - One of the youngest members of the coven spoke pointing at Agatha's neighbor

-"You just need to be a witch to open the path, but no to walk the road..."-you murmured without stopping walking

-"Talking about no witches, who are you anyway?" - one of them asked, you weren't sure what they names were yet because you had only known them a few hours

-"I'm *blurred words*"-for you, what you just said was clear as water but they weren't able to hear you

-"My oh my, someone put a sigil on this girl" - Lilia, the older one said and you looked at her with confusion

-"A what?" - You asked confused and they all turned to look at Agatha.

-"Don't look at me, I didn't put that fancy glam on her, sigils are beneath me" - she said with a disgusting face

-"Is sigil a spell?" - You asked them

-"It's a redaction spell to hide something, in this case you from witch folk" - Now it made sense why when you told all your life to Agatha while you were on the car, there was no reaction at all from her part.  -"Looks like Agatha brought a little mystery with her, probably trying to get her all to herself" - The one with the punk vibe said and you suddenly felt threatened but Agatha covered your body with hers, protecting you from them

-"Look, we don't know why someone put that sigil on her, she could be something special or she could be a pest that a cranky witch tried to hide under a rock, we can crack her open later. The real value lies at the end of the road..."-she tried to get their attention away from you

-"What are you trying to find at the end of the road? "-one of them asked looking at you

-"My wife..."-you whispered

-"The road can't bring dead people back" - all of them said at the same time

-"She is not dead. She is just... Lost" - You confessed

-"Do you ever think to talk to the police about a missing person instead of risking your life here on the road?-the tallest spoke and you signed

-"Nobody believed me, her body was there, but someone else completely different was inside, she doesn't even recognizes me... I just want her back" - You talked looking at Agatha sideways and Lilia's noticed but she said nothing-"Wait, where is Mrs Heart?" - You asked at the same time a scream was heard, leaving you subject behind and running to find her.

When you found her, the road was almost swallowing her but you managed to help her and took her out to continue down the road.

When the first trial arrived, you found a gorgeous house but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching you. Everyone started to drink wine but you quickly refused

-"I can't drink, I... I was an alcoholic" - You lied, scared of them pushing you to drink

-"Who wasn't?" - Agatha jocked and walked away with her glass on her hand.

Soon you found out that they had been poisoned, but following the instructions of the potions witch, you could make the antidote, but it wasn't enough for your ex neighbor that sadly passed away.

Mrs Heart death didn't affected the purple witch, but you couldn't avoid feeling a deep pain on your chest, and rage because Agatha didn't even cared a little even though it was her fault that she got there.

The potions witch took you to a side after burring Mrs Heart to warn you about getting close to Agatha, but even though she was nice for doing that, you knew her a lot more than what they knew, even though she wasn't acting like the person you used to know.

As the time began to pass, you started to get a little mad at Agatha and her careless reaction to losses and pain. Also another thing that contributed more to your anger was the summon of Rio, when she appeared she started to hoard all the witch's attention. It made sense for them to feel attracted to each other, powerful witches, both had many years and they seem to have some kind of history together, but you couldn't avoid to wonder if Agatha really didn't remembered her past life at all. You didn't knew what would be worse, if she didn't remembered at all or if she remembered something and decided not to pay attention to it.

Your soul craved for her attention, for her touches, for her caresses, for just a love glance towards you, but you were getting none of that.

One particular night, after having a talk between you all around a fire, Agatha stood up and you thought it would be a good opportunity to talk to her alone, to see that even with that stupid sigil she could understand anything that you were trying to say. But the road was a tricky place and you got lost, and by the time you found her, Rio and her were about to kiss, thing you couldn't watch and decided to walk away with your clenching heart on your hands.

You were feeling so bad that you tried to stay alone for a bit to avoid crying in front of the others, but the loneliness didn't lasted long, because after a few minutes you heard something walking to were you were. You were supposed to be scared, but you didn't cared much about it at the moment.

After a few seconds Agatha sat beside you on the excluded part of the road, smiling like she always did

-"So... Why are you angry?" - she asked picking a little branch of the floor but you didn't answer to her or even look that way-"It's because you saw Río and I almost kissing?" - she asked and you looked at her surprised but still mad-"Yes, I saw you spying through the branches..." - she said in a mocking tone

-"And what?" - You asked trying to ignore the pain in your heart

-"Nothing, I just fund it funny... You know, you always get mad when I call you pet, but the moment that I turn my attention to someone else, you trow a tantrum like the little whiny pet you are" - she spoke with the same confidence that she always showed

-"I can't believe how disgusting you are" - You grumbled

-"You can't blame me, you are the one that got into my house looking for me. You always say that you are looking for your wife because you love her so much but I found it funny considering how obsessed you are with me. Pet" - she used that name again and your blood boiled, she was such a mean and awful person to you and all the people, that she deserved a punishment, she deserved to feel how painful it felt to be near her. You lifted your hand ready to slap her but she caught your hand mid air and pulled you closer, your face mare inches from hers-"See? You are not even trying to get away from me. You are obsessed with me and I bet that no matter how much you hate me, you can't stop thinking about me fucking you and making you mine" - she said in an arrogant and mocking way, pulling her lips out towards you. In your mind you kept repeating how she almost kissed Rio and how much you wished it were you, and before you could convince yourself how wrong this was, you connected your lips with hers. You always liked slow and full of emotions kisses, but with Agatha, that wasn't an option. Her lips were soft but her movements where rough, she sucked your lips, she bit them and when you opened your mouth, she easily slipped inside to declare dominance.

No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that this wasn't rigth and that you should stop, your body would react in the opposite way.

You wanted to run away, but your body keept releasing sinful low moans every time her teeth pulled your lip. You wanted to stop but your hands kept pulling at her coat trying to make her be close to you. You wanted for her to show you any little bit of affection before doing this but you could feel how ruined your panties were with how aroused you were thinking about she fucking you roughly.

Even though you were walking for a little while trying to get far away from the others, the road had a mind of its own and you knew you were close to the others no matter what you did and that in any moment they could walk where you were and find Agatha and you making out, but for some reason that only made it more exciting.

The witch lifted you from where you were sitting and placed you on her lap, making your legs fit around her waist. Even when she was powerless, her hands were still powerful. With incredible precision, in one pull, your entire blouse opened, leaving your breasts clenched by your bra in full view, your breathing was hectic and that only made the up and down of your chest just sexier. You could see how Agatha's mouth literally filled with saliva looking at you, she licked her lips and her hands squeezed your waist trying to control herself somehow. Her mouth opened and she started sucking your neck, biting it, marking you as her, your eyes closed and you let your head fall back just to give her more access.

Her nails scratched your torso, from the valley of your chest to the end of your abdomen where your pants made her stop, sending chills on your body. Her expert hand pulled your boobs out of your bra without having to unclasp it and started to squeeze them, making it a little painful but so good at the same time. Her mouth started to suck your other breast while murmuring something that you couldn't quite place, making a mess on your chest, letting her saliva drip down your body, making you feel sticky and more sinful that what you already were.

With great strength, she lifted you up a little from her lap and pulled your pants down, letting you only on your underwear. She seemed rushed but you didn't wanted her to stop so you didn't said nothing.

The air on the road made you have chills and your body shook with desire, thing that didn't went unseen from her and made her smile arrogantly again.

Still holding you up, with her other hand she opened her clothes and you were surprised to see a bulge on her panties

-"I still have a few tricks on my sleeve"-she moved her panties to one side and pulled out a big purple strapped dildo and you realized that while she sucked your boobs, she was conjuring a spell to get that toy. Still surprised and lost by that, she carefully touched your panties, she immediately could feel the pool that you had between your legs-"And you keep saying that you hate me?" - she asked and you rolled your eyes trying to not giving her the satisfaction even when she was right. She let you drop on her lap, making you feel preasure between your legs because of the big toy and a moan escaped your mouth, her hand quickly went to your throat grabbing it lightly-"Behave pet, don't roll your eyes or you will regret it" - she told you and you nodded, completely at her mercy. You thought about teasing her, but you were really neddy and you were scared that if you pushed her too much, she would leave you rigth there alone.

Her hand went from your neck to your jaw and she pulled you for another hungry kiss.

Your hips, with a mind of their own, started to move against the big toy that was between Agathas legs, making her groan this time too.

One of her fingers slipped inside your panties, between your pussy and the toy and began to expertly masagge your clit making you see stars. Her thumb manteined her pace on your clit but her longer finger found your entrance and began to tease it, testing how open you were and finding very little resistance when two of her fingers easily slipped inside your wet entrance, your body trembled in her arms, adjusting to the feeling. She made a few pumps inside you building that orgasm that you were so close to reach, but then she suddenly stoped, taking her hand out of your panties and sucking her fingers with the cockiest smile that you had ever seen and you whined for the lack of contact

-"You are fucking delicious, keep lying to yourself that you hate me, I've bet you had never been this wet for someone else" - she said and slipped her hand inside your panties again, moving them to the side so she could make the toy grind against your soaked pussy making it fully coated with your juices.

She easily lifted you a little and found your entrance again, slipping slowly inside you, grinning as the purple dildo desapeared inside you. It was surprising how big it was and how easy you were taking it inside.

As you completely sat on the purple dildo that now was inside you connecting you fully with her, you grabbed her face, making her look at you, looking for something deeper in her eyes than blind desire, for a few minutes you thought that her walls were coming down, but she shucked her head out of your grasp and hid her face in the crook of your neck close to your ear, slowly starting to move her hips

-"Will you be a good pet and make me hear your little whimpers that you were doing earlier and gets me this hard?" - she spoke in a deep voice, clearly aroused. You knew that toy inside you was part or of her spell, but apparently she made it possible for her to feel it too inside you.

You began to move your hips along with her following slowly every movement. You could clearly see the preasure of the big toy inside your lower on your stomach, making you moan lauder.

As the pace began to encrease, your movements became sloppier and you reached a point where you were completely riding her strap, with your boobs bouncing and your hands scratching her back hurting her but in a pleasure way.

Her arms find the depth of your waist and hold you, making your ridind easier.

While you climax was getting closer hers too, and you could swear that you could feel her pulsating inside you.

Her mouth went to kiss you again while you desperately ride her and in a few seconds you came, your pussy clenching so hard that it was difficult for her to keep moving any longer and she came with you too, with the toy inside you, feelings your every move, every clench.

You collapsed on her body and when you could feel your hips again, you lifted yourself from the toy and tried to put your clothes on sitting on the log that you were at the beginning.

-"F-Fuck Aggy, that was amazing" - You said trying to catch your breath beside her, but she frowned and stood up from where you were making the purple dildo desapear and closing her clothes again, looking at you confused and remembering that dream that she had before coming to the road, the one where someone called her name, "Please wake up Aggy"... She looked at you

-"What did you said?" - she asked a little mad and lost

-"I said that this was amazing... Are you okay Agatha, you seem pale"- You sat more straight watching her, not fully trusting your legs to stand up yet

-"Yes... I... I will see how the others are doing" - she left you there confused and alone.

After a few minutes you went with the other too.

As time began to pass (you weren't sure how time was inside the road but that perpetual night made you feel like if you were stuck on a loop) Agatha started to ignore you and put more distance than before and that hurt you, specially because you thought that after sex a spark of connection would revive, but nothing happened.

Trying not to let that affect you too much, you stayed near to Lilia because for some reason she made you feel safe, safer that what the purple witch made you feel.

-"So... How was your wife? Like was she a good woman?"- The older asked trying to make conversation and take you away from your sad place and you smiled

-"She is...was... The best. She always treated me with such care, she was always protective. Every morning she woke up earlier to make my favorite coffee before going to work. She always brought me flowers, the most gorgeous bouquets, always with some little purple flowers like lavender between the other bigger ones..."-when you mentioned the color, Lilia frowned, like trying to find something behind the original gesture-"... She held  my hand in the most soft ways and she always hugged me when we watched movies together or to sleep, she always complemented my food and she always brought the dessert when I cooked..."-your voice was full of nostalgia and sadness and your eyes kept wandering off to Agatha every time you spoke and Lilia couldn't avoid but noticed that. She was about to ask something else but she yelled instead

-"You are pregnant?!"- You looked at her confused and everyone turned to look at you. After a few seconds Lilia's mind came back and she smiled at you - "She sounds so lovely..."-everyone keept looking at her "What?" - she asked unaware of what she said before

-"You are pregnant?" - Rio asked and looked at your belly, instinctively your hands went there in a protective way and everyone realized it was true

-"You ARE pregnant?! I mean, I knew my dick was pretty magical but I didn't knew it had that much power" - Agatha made fun of the situation and you frown feeling vulnerable, you didn't wanted them to find out that

-"Please don't give yourself too much credit, this happened before coming here" - You said avoiding looking at her

-"You two had sex here?" - Lilia asked and you didn't even dared to look at her-"Oh honey... What about your wife?" - she seemed truly concerned- "I didn't imagine you as the cheating tipe..."-she seemed disappointed and you felt sick about talking with them about this

-"I didn't cheat... I would never" - You said looking at her eyes, for some reason you cared for her approval

-"Keep telling yourself that but we both know what happened..."-Agatha said in a mocking tone and you roled your eyes

-"I'm not a cheater! Why you don't fucking remember me Aggy?" - You looked into the witch's eyes

-"Oh god..."-Alice said with the pieces falling into place

-"... You didn't cheat, Agatha IS your wife..."-Lilia said and Agatha opened her in surprise-"The stolen glances, the love in your eyes, the constant search for her attention..."

-"That... It's not true... I don't even know you, the first time I saw you in all my life it's when you broke into my house..."-she said no sure about her own words, she didn't remember anything from her last 3 years after all. When Agatha understood why you were there and why you went after her, even if she didn't belive you, you finally felt how a weight was lifted from you, the sigil was broken

-"I didn't broke into your house, it is our house! We lived there for 3 years! But the last days you went crazy and didn't recognize me and kicked me out... And I came back for my clothes when you started chasing me down the road yelling that you were a police woman and that you were going to arrest me... You worked at the supermarket for God's sake! That's how we met... "-you said mad at her

-"That can't be... You are a liar" - she insisted

-"Who do you think that made you food all those years when you couldn't cook even to save your life?! Who do you think that made you company and kept you safe an loved? You truly don't remember my hand holding yours? Many nights spend slepping together? The way how our bodies fit perfectly together?! Nothing?! - You yelled and her eyes went everywhere trying to stop the memories that were appearing on her head

-"All that reality wasn't me, wasn't real! I was just a puppet, a prisoner of my own mind" - Her voice trembled looking at you

-"It was real to me!" - You snapped back and you felt pain in your stomach, you knew you had to calm down

-"I... I'm not that woman and I'm not your wife... And I don't know how that baby appeared, but it isn't mine..."-the witch said standing firmly in front of you and you signed

-"The baby is yours even if you don't want to accept it, I even bet it will look more like you than me, but you are right... You are not my wife anymore... She is not longer there, the only thing I can see in your eyes is your selfinesh for power and I know you will kill anyone in your path to get it, even if it's your baby or your friend, like you had Miss Sharon killed... There is no point for me to keep going down the road when who I'm looking for is dead"-You said with hurt in your voice and started walking on the opposite direction when you were going

-"Where are you going?!" - Lilia yelled

-"To find an exit to this stupid place" - You yelled back and all the witches turned back to look at Agatha

-"She won't last a day alone..."-Jennifer said with consern

-"That is not my problem..."-she flipped her cape and walked on the opposite direction to were you went.

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and The Witch: Dean Winchester x Fem! reader

Description: A small town where dark secrets unfold isn’t anything new to these seasoned hunters, except when it has something to do with urban legends…apparently.

Warnings: cannon violence, mentions/talk of suicide, mentions of gruesome death, eye bleeding, Blood Mary (idk if this would be a warning but like 🤷🏼‍♀️), mentions of murder, witchy stuff

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra ,@fablesrose

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long to get out again my AP class is really AP-ing and has taken up literally all my time. I spent four days working on a 20 pages packet that took forever meaning I had zero time for this. Again so so sorry.

Word count: 7,719

Bloody Mary

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)

“Sam, wake up.” Dean nudges the man in question, the car in park.

Sam wakes, confused, he sits up and looks around. “I take it I was having a nightmare.”

“Yeah, another one.” Dean confirms, and I nod too a frown on my face.

“Hey, at least I got some sleep.” Sam offers

“Sam” I stretch out his name, “that cannot be your positive to this.”

“You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this.” Dean adds.

But Sam ignores us, avoids the whole conversation, “Are we here?”

Dean lets him avoid the whole ordeal and I have to wonder how long he will let his brother lie. Though I guess I'm no better. “Yup. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio.”

Sam picks up a newspaper that sat on the console of the car, the obituary of Steven Shoemaker circled.

‘The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of their beloved husband and father Steven Shoemarker. Steven was 46. A short service will be held on Wednesday, [...] 31 at 2:00 p.m. at the Toledo [...] and cherish you [...] Your [...]’ The article read.

“So what do you think really happened to this guy?” Sam asks us.

“That's what we're gonna find out.” Dean answers, turning off the car. “Let's go.”

We exit the car, entering the large hospital building that stood in front of us walking up to the two desks that lie in the room. One of them is empty with a name tag that reads, ‘Dr. D. Feiklowicz.’ The other one however was occupied by a Morgue technician in blue scrubs, “Hey” the man greets us as we approach.

“Hey.” Dean answers back.

“Can I help you?” The technician asks, looking between the three of us.

“Yeah. We're the, uh...med students.” Dean lies.

“Sorry?” The man asks back.

“Oh, Doctor—“ Dean stammers over the name, “—Figlavitch didn't tell you? We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemarker corpse. It's for our paper.”

“Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch.” The tech informs us.

“Oh well he said, uh—“ Dean sighs, “—oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?”

“Sorry, I can't. Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.” He tells us, gesturing to the seats on the side of the room.

“An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then.” Dean looks at me and Sam as if queuing us to lie with him.

“Yeah.” Sam and I say at the same time, “Jinx” I mumble underneath my breath just loud enough for Sam to hear me who in return gives me a scrunched face.

“Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out—“ Dena explains getting cut off by the man in scrubs, “Uh, look, man...no.”

Dean laughs a little. He turns around to face us, mumbling, “I'm gonna hit him in his face I swear.”

But I mean we can’t really blame the guy he’s just doing his job.

Sam hits his brother on the arm, taking a step in front of him he opens his wallet and pulls out some twenties. He lays a few of them, at least five, down on the desk. The Morgue Tech picks up the money, “Follow me.”

The technician gets up and leaves. I go to follow, seeing in the corner of my eye Dean grabbing Sam when he too tries to follow, forcing me to stop and go back a step to see what they are on about.

“Dude, I earned that money.” Dean complains.

“You won it in a poker game.” Sam clarifies.

“Yeah.” Dean answers.

Sam rolls his eyes, pulling away from his brother to follow the technician.

“You’ll make it back” I say, patting Dean on the back shortly to go follow the morgue man.

Dean stays back a half a second before following after us.

“Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding.” Sam said as the Morgue Tech pulled back the sheet over Steven’s face. Revealing a pale, long faced man with dark hair, blood stained on his cheeks below his eyes as if he had cried them.

“More than that. They practically liquefied.” The tech scuffs.

“Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean asks him.

“Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone.” He answers.

“What's the official cause of death?” Sam questioned.

“Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure.” He replied.

“You mean like cerebral bleeding?” I ask, wanting to clarify.

“Yeah. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen.” He responded.

“The eyes & mash;what would cause something like that?” Sam asked.

“Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims.” The technician explains.

“Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?” Dean scuffs.

“That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor.” The tech shrugs.

“Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh...our paper.” Dean requests.

“I'm not really supposed to show you that.” He answers, stretching out ‘that.’

Sam sighs clearly annoyed, as he pulls out his wallet.

Now leaving the hospital, walking down the stairs Sam suggests, “Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing.”

“How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?” Dean points out.

“Uh, almost never.” Sam answers.

“Exactly.”

“Well then, let's go talk to the daughter.” I announce”

We walk into Steven’s funeral, a picture of him on the desk.

All the men in the room are wearing black suits and the women adorned in black dresses, everyone except us. Dean points this very fact out, “Feel like we're underdressed.” I nod in agreement, my lips in a tight line, the guilt of interrupting these people’s mourning with not only us being undressed but also for not having a reasonable explanation of us being here.

But no one stops us as we keep walking through the house, all the way towards the back and outside to the backyard.

A man points us towards Donna and Lily Shoemarker, the daughters of the man we had seen on a metal table only moments before, who are standing near two people whom I can only assume is a friend or family member.

“You must be Donna, right?” Dean greets the eldest daughter as we approach the group of people.

“Yeah.” She answers sadly brushing her short brunette hair out of her face.

“Hi, uh—we're really sorry.” Sam says.

“Thank you.” She replies, and I know she must have heard that same phrase of ‘i’m sorry’ and must have answered the same ‘thank you’ over and over to each person here. As if the death of her father hadn’t broken what’s inside her enough.

“I'm Sam, this is Dean, and that’s Y/N. We worked with your dad.” He explains.

She looks at one of the adults near her and then back at us, “You did?” And I feel bad for lying to her about this to give her a connection to her father that had never existed.

“Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke.” Dean goes on.

“I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now” One of the men with her say, stepping in.

“It's okay. I'm okay.” Donna says, with a sharp nod.

“Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?” Dean asks, listing out various options.

“No.” She says simply.

Lily, the youngest daughter, turns around, “That's because it wasn't a stroke.”

“Lily, don’t say that.” Donna snaps.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I'm sorry, she's just upset.” Donna explains.

“No, it happened because of me.” Lily speaks up.

“Sweetie, it didn't.” Donna tries to convince.

“Oh Lily”, I say sadly crouching down to be closer to her eye level, “What makes you think that?” I knew what it felt like to blame yourself for someone else’s death, especially your parents, especially when it happens twice and you're too young to understand why this would happen to you. I feel the eyes of the people around me bore into me, especially from the brothers behind me.

“Right before he died, I said it.” Lily answers.

“Said what?” I ask her.

“Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror.” She explains, pausing, “She took his eyes, that's what she does.” My eyes go wide, not exactly expecting that answer.

“That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault.” Donna reasons.

“I think your sister's right, Lily. There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?” Dean offers, giving the kid some logic to combat what she believes.

“No, I don't think so.” Lily answers. But I know it will take her years to really believe it wasn’t her fault, if ever.

Saying ‘bye’ to the grief rickened family we head back inside the house, but instead of truly leaving we sneak upstairs, approaching the bathroom.

Sam pushes the door open, dried blood stained to the white tiled floor, “The Bloody Mary legend...Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?”

“Not that I know of.” Dean answers, him and I trailing in after Sam who stoops to the floor touching the dried blood, “I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it.”

I grimace, why would he touch the blood?

“Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening.” Dean offers.

“The place where the legend began?” Sam asks and we both shrug, Dean opening the medicine cabinet.

“But according to the legend, the person who says B—“ Sam looks at the medicine cabinet mirror, it now facing him, he closes it before continuing, “The person who says you know what gets it. But here—“

“Mr.Shoemaker gets it instead” I finish his sentence.

“Right.”

“Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you know who scratches your eyes out.” Dean adds.

“It's worth checking in to.” Sam concludes, as we leave the bathroom.

“What are you doing up here?” A blonde woman stops us, the same woman who was comforting the daughters outside.

“We—we, had to go to the bathroom.” Dean lies, poorly, because it makes perfect sense for three people to be using a private bathroom all at once.

“Who are you?” She asks us, naturally not accepting the poorly down lie.

“Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad.” Dean confirms.

“He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself.” She counters, and we should really start researching these people before we make up lies of how we know them.

Dean tries to cover, “No, I know, I meant—“

“And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming.” She tells us, leaving no more room for any nonsense.

“All right, all right. We think something happened to Donna's dad.” Sam begins.

“Yeah, a stroke.” She answers.

“But it isn’t a typical sign of stroke, it might be something else.” I say softly, ashamed for suggesting such a thing to someone who has no knowledge of our world. These people are going through so much the last thing they need is some random people questioning what they know, I wouldn’t blame her if she did scream.

“Like what?” She scoffs, crossing her arms in front of her.

Sam explains this time probably sensing my unease with all this, “Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth.”

Dean tilts his head, “So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead.” My eyes widened, snapping to look at him, and suddenly that unease I felt vanished, replaced by a burning hot feeling that rushed through my veins and brought a flush to my face. I gulped, trying to push down the feeling a simple sentence that wasn’t even directed towards me made me feel. The cockiness it held as well as the allowance in his voice…it shouldn’t have affected me, and really shouldn’t have created a burning-longing in my gut.

“Who are you, cops?” The woman questions us, but my eyes haven’t left Dean as if he was light and I a moth.

I catch Sam and Dean looking at each other, speaking without words, in my peripheral vision. “Something like that” Dean answers.

It’s then that Dean must have felt my gaze on him, my lips slightly agape as I looked at him through my lashes. His attention turned to me as Sam continued the conversation that I had long blanked out of. Dean looked me over, eyes trailing over my very being, only worsening the burning I had felt within. His eyes met mine again giving me that devilish smirk of his, I swallowed again my eyes falling to his lips.

Sam clears his throat, nudging his brothers hard enough that he knocks into me slightly. Effectively catching our attention.

“Let’s go” He tells us, the woman still in front of us this time her attention to a small piece of white paper that I assume has some sort of contact information on it.

“All right, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof—Like a local woman who died nasty.” Dean begins as we walk into the oddly dark library, the stale smell of cleaning products surrounding us.

“Yeah but Blood Mary is a widespread legend with tons of versions of who she actually is, with no clear answer. There’s the mutilated bride, a spirit conjured to tell the future, a witch, and a whole lot more” I answer.

“All right so what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean asks.

“Well in every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers—public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill.” Sam adds, answering.

“Well that sounds annoying” Dean admits.

“No it won't be so bad, as long as we…” Sam trails off looking over to the table lined with computers all that say ‘Out of Order’, he chuckles “I take it back. This will be very annoying.”

We quickly turned around, heading back to the motel we were staying at to do our research there. Dean sat leaning with his head on his hand on the small table in the room on his brother's laptop. The younger brother in question had fallen asleep on one of the beds, the rustling of the sheets giving away the fact he was tossing and turning. I however sat crisscrossed on the other bed Deans to be specific, not like he cared anyways, researching on my laptop trying to find any relevant info on a Mary in this town or deaths relating to mirrors.

“Why'd you let me fall asleep?” Sam suddenly speaks up, voice evident with sleep.

“Cause I'm an awesome brother” Dean scoffs, he’d never admit it was really because Sam hadn’t been able to sleep or at least sleep long for the last couple of weeks.

“And what’s your excuse Y/N?” Sam questions me, leaning on his side with one arm propped up.

“You were sleepy!” I admit simply, smiling at him. He rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh.

“So what did you dream about?” Dean asks him, though what he was really asking was ‘did you have another nightmare?’

“Lollipops and candy canes.” He answers sarcastically. So sassy and for what?

“Yum” I reply, my eyes going back to my laptop.

“Did you find anything?” Sam asks us.

“Oh besides a whole new level of frustration?” Dean huffs, making Sam sit up, “No. We’ve looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary.”

Sam falls back on the bed, the crisp sheets making a ‘whoosh’ noise beneath him, “Maybe we just haven't found it yet.”

“Thing is, there’s also been no strange deaths in the area, no other eyeball bleeding. Nothing. Which you know is good in hindsight but not quite helpful for us.” I explain.

Dean adds on, “Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary.”

Almost as if on cue Sam’s phone rings, he answers, still laying down. “Hello?”

Charlie, the blonde woman who questioned us before, sat on the park bench slightly hunched. I sat next to her to offer some comfort, while Dean sat on the back on the bench, his leg nearly brushing my back.

“And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her—her eyes. They were gone.” Charlie nearly sobbed, having explained everything that happened with her friend Jill.

Jill, who had wanted to tease the blonde women about believing in such a legend, saying the name in the mirror and winding up dead. Her death being in the same manner as Mr. Shoemaker.

“I'm sorry.” Sam answered, eyebrows scrunched together.

“And she said it. I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?” She whimpered, using the back of her hands to clear the wetness from her cheeks.

“You aren’t insane” I tell her clearly.

“Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse.” She whines and I try to not let it hurt me, because she's griefing, even though it does.

“Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained” Sam explains. Dean adding, “And we're gonna stop it but we could use your help.”

Dean lifts me up again, this time to reach an elevated first floor window rather than a fence. His hands sliding from tight around my hips, to brushing down my thighs as he lifts me in reach of the window sill. The window wasn’t that high to reach in the first place but with my height, amidtely being shorter than both the boys, it wasn’t exactly comfortable or super easy to reach the window and pull myself up and in.

My hands grasp the cold white window sill, my rings clinking against the surface as I pull my body up. I swiftly slide my hips sideways making my butt land on the sill, in the same sort of movements you would use when you lift yourself out of a pool.

I move my legs inside the carpeted room, ducking slightly as to not hit my head on the open window. The room belonged to Jill, and as my feet hit the soft gray carpet I officially feel the disgust of intrusion creep up on me.

I slide off the windowsill moving into the room more, Sam quickly taking my place near the window to pick up the duffle Dean threw up at him. He catches it, putting it on the bed and immediately digging through it.

“So what did you tell Jill’s mom?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, the uncomfortability of being in someone’s bedroom let alone a dead girls bedroom crawling up my skin and in my bones.

“Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things.” Charlie answers looking between us and the door nervously. Dean climbs through the window shutting the curtain behind and Sam pulls something out of the bag. “I hate lying to her” Charlie adds.

“Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights” Dean orders.

She goes over to the lights, “”What are you guys looking for?

“We'll let you know as soon as we find it.” Dean hums.

Sam hands him a camcorder on and ready, the object he got from the duffel, “Hey, night vision.” He recalls prompting the older brother to do so, his face scrunched with focus as he finds the button.

“Perfect.” Sam smiles.

The little screen of the camcorder is facing Dean, in a ‘selfie’ like mode, “Do I look like Paris Hilton?” He smiles.

I laugh, slapping a hand to his upper arm on instinct, “Sure you do, baby” I joke, the pet name not something I ever use slipping from my tongue before I could realize. His head turns to give me an amused and smug smirk. In his distractment Sam takes the camera back, going over to the closet door filming around the mirror.

“So I don't get it. I mean...the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?” Sam asks out loud.

“Beats me.” Dean answers, focusing back on the situation at hand. “I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.”

“It was just a joke.” Charlie reasons.

“Yeah well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time.” Dean replies.

Sam wandered into the bathroom now, looking at the mirror there. “Hey!” He calls out, getting us to turn and look at him. “There's a black light in the trunk, right?”

Dean immediately went off to go get it coming back rather swiftly, just as Sam placed the mirror on Jill’s bed laying it upside down after having carried it from the bathroom. With the black light now in hand, he peels off the brown paper that’s on the back of the mirror, shining the purple light on its back revealing a handprint and the name ‘Gary Bryman.’

“Gary Bryman?” Charlie reads out loud both as an acknowledgment and also a question.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask her.

“No.” She answers simply.

Back on the bench, in nearly the same positions, Sam recalls his findings. “So, Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver.”

“Oh my God.” Charlie gasps, horror in her eyes as she covers her mouth.

“What?” I ask the question we’re all thinking.

“Jill drove that car” She answers. Without looking for confirmation I know the boy's eyes are wide too, but there’s no room for the talking that comes after shock.

“We need to get back to your friend Donna’s house.

Somehow, with the help of Charlie, we convinced our way into Donna’s house back up to the bathroom we were in only hours before.

Hunched over the mirror with the black light, our suspicions were correct. There’s a handprint, one I have to say looks like the one in Jill’s bathroom, but I'm no criminologist. This time the name ‘Linda Shoemaker’ is written on it.

We all look at each other, knowing it’s likely that Steven killed his wife hence why Bloody Mary went for him and not the young girl who chanted her name. But the only way to have any idea of this theory is correct is to ask the brunette teenager downstairs.

“Why are you asking me this?” Donna asks us.

“I’m really sorry, Donna, but this is important.” I try to explain, but I know it won’t make sense to her. I mean we are total strangers asking her uncomfortable questions about her dead mother.

“Yeah. Linda's my mom okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it.” She fumes, eyebrows scrunched together in fury, “I think you should leave.”

“Now Donna, just listen.” Dean reaches a hand up, as if to motion ‘calm down.’ But it doesn't work. Teary eyed and a little red in the face she yells, “Get out of my house!” Swiftly she runs up the stairs, not giving us another option.

“Oh my God. Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?” Charlie asks, finally picking up on our theory.

“Maybe.” Sam shrugs.

“I think I should stick around” Charlie announces, referring to staying with Donna, which is probably a good idea.

“All right. Whatever you do, don't—“ Dean tries to warn getting cut off, “Believe me, I won't say it.”

The crisp smell of old books and, oddly, cinnamon fill my nose as I take a deep breath, flexing my hand as I work out the cramping from writing a little too intensely in my small journal.

Dean sits next to me on the cold metal chairs in the library we decided to research in (different to the original one we were at), he’s typing away on the clunky computer the library has. Sam’s staring off at a bulletin board behind us with all sorts of things on it.

“Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?” He asks Dean, alerting us of him coming back to his seat on the other side of his brother.

“Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database—at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me.” Dean answers.

“But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town.” Sam points out.

“I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So unless you got a better idea—“ Dean explains and as much as I love him I cut him off.

“Well, Mary’s victims have a pattern, which I know you guys already know so I'll just cut to the good part. Both victims had secrets relating to where people died and, here’s the good part, there’s a lot of folklore on mirrors, specifically that mirrors are a reflection of your soul. And with that your secrets and lies are revealed to the mirror.

Fun Fact! It was the Romans who believed that the soul would regenerate every seven years, so if you broke a mirror then you’d have to wait seven years until your soul was cleansed of the bad luck and misfortune.

And while I have more fun facts about mirrors I will end it there.” I smiled, satisfied with my information vomit as well as my fun fact because fun facts are wonderful.

Both boys look at me strangely, a mix of confusion and what I think is amazement (they should be amazed cause that was a really great fun fact). Dean seems to shake it off, “Right. So if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it.”

Sam adding, “Whether you're the one that summoned her or not.”

“Correcto!” I answer, and by correct I mean that’s what I was thinking for our working theory.

“Then take a look at this.” Dean announces, clicking a few buttons on the computer before leaning over to the nearby printer, pulling out and handing us the paper. It’s a picture of a woman lying by a mirror in a puddle of blood. He prints out another picture, this time of a handprint and the letters “Tre.”

“Looks like the same handprint.” Sam points out and I nod in agreement.

“Her name was Mary Worthington—an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana.”

“I was on the job for 35 years-detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder—that one still gets me.” The detective states, unfortunately I immediately forgot his name. It's not the nicest thing to happen but I was also really focused on his country accent that’s just a little too funny.

“What exactly happened?” Dean asked, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You boys and girl said you were reporters?” Mr. Detective questioned.

“We know Mary was 19, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife.” Sam recalls the gruesome story.

“That's right.” He confirms.

“See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you think happened.” Sam clarifies for him, somewhere between a curious and condescending tone.

Mr. Detective eyes us over as if he’s contemplating something. He spins his wheely chair around swiftly getting up and going to a large file cabinet. “Technically I'm not supposed to have a copy of this” He huffs, pulling out a file and then a picture, the same picture Dean had already found on the computer. “Now see that there? T-R-E?” Detective reads out, even though unbeknownst to him it’s old news to us.

“Yeah” Dean answers.

“I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer.” He theorizes.

“Do you know who it was, or any theories?” I ask, trying to get any sort of new answers.

“Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon-Trevor Sampson.” He pulls out another photo, this time of this Trevor guy, he has an oval face with curly short hair definitely on the darker side but I can’t say exactly what color due to the black and white photo. He’s also wearing some sunglasses.

“And I think he cut her up good.” He finishes, his accent thick.

“Why do you think it’s him?” I question further.

“Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, ‘T’. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell ‘T’'s wife about their affair.” He answers, and for a detective that truly means nothing.

“No offense but how does that directly correlate to Sampson… I mean there’s other people with the initial ‘T’ right?” I question him again, hoping it doesn't offend the man.

“It's hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out...it was almost professional.” He explains.

“But you could never prove it?” Dean asks, chiming in.

“No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous.” Mr. Detective nods.

“Is he still alive?” Dean follows up.

“Nope.” He sighs, sitting down. “If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret. But she never could.”

“Where's she buried?” Sam asks this time.

“She wasn't. She was cremated” He answers. No digging up bodies for us today.

“What about that mirror”, Dean nods towards the one in the photo, “It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere is it?”

“Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago.” He explains, leaning back in his chair.

“You have the names of her family by any chance?”

We drive down the roads, the sun setting behind us. Sam’s call dictates where we go, either to whatever location he gives us or back to the motel.

“Oh really? Ah that's too bad Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well maybe next time. All right, thanks.” Sam hangs up, pocketing his phone.

“So?” Dean asks.

“So that was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo.” Sam stated.

“So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?” Dean raises.

“Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow.” Sam simply puts it.

“Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?” Dean asks.

“Yeah! People would cover up the mirror when someone died so that their spirit/ soul wouldn’t get trapped.” I explain, happy to spew some more of my fun facts.

“So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit” Dean works through the facts.

“Yes! But I don’t know how she’s working through various mirrors” I admit.

“I don't know either, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it.” Dean proposes.

“Yeah, I don't know, maybe.” Sam gets cut off by his own phone, “ Hello.” A look of concern washes over his face, becoming pale “Charlie?”

The motel room is colder, the rain outside causing that meek fact. Charlie’s sitting on Sam’s bed, her head on her knees, after we picked her up from school all terrified. All the curtains are drawn shut, all the mirrors and reflective surfaces are covered with sheets or turned aquas towards a wall or the floor there will be no bloody mary getting in here.

Sam sits next to Charlie, “Hey, hey it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, all right?” She looks up reluctantly and slowly, “Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

“But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?” Her voice wobbled, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

“No. No. Not anytime soon.” Sam comforts, but I don’t think it helps.

Dean sits on the bed too, “All right Charlie. We need to know what happened.”

“We were in the bathroom. Donna said it.” She answers simply, rocking herself slightly.

“That's not what we're talking about. Something happened, didn't it? In your life...a secret...where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?” Dean pushes.

She looks around uncomfortably, swallowing she begins, “I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know?” She looks over at me for confirmation knowing without any previous conversation about it that I would understand. And she was right. It was as if bad boyfriends were sewed into the fabrics of being a woman, it would be a little strange if you hadn’t had one.

I nod and she continues, “And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just...I didn't believe him, you know? I should have.” She cries harder, going back to her previous position.

I move towards her, Sam getting up to allow me to sit close to her. I hug her, holding her close despite her awkward position. “That’s not your fault” I told her simply, and I meant it too. She uncurls herself, quickly wrapping her arms around me and stuffing her face into my neck. I hold her tighter. “You did the right thing, leaving him” I mutter.

Dean huffs, gripping the steering wheel slightly tighter, “You were right back there Y/N, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault.”

“You guys should know as well as I do that spirits don't exactly see shades of gray. Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's good enough for Mary.” Sam reasons.

“I guess” Dean sighs.

“You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror.” Sam suggests.

“Oh, what do you mean?” I ask with a tilt of my head.

“Well Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it.” Sam explains.

“Well how do you know that's going to work?” Dean questions.

“I don't, not for sure.” Sam shrugs.

“Well who's gonna summon her?” Dean follows up.

“I will. She'll come after me.” Sam states as if it’s the most obvious answer and with no care for himself.

“You know what, that's it.” Dean nearly shouts, pulling the car over quickly and roughly making my body shift nearly knocking into the door.

“This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's gonna kill you.” Dean fumes, not quite yelling but also not quite talking.

“Now listen to me—It wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place.”

“I don't blame you.” Sam answers plainly, almost in defeat

“Well you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done.” Dean adds.

“I could've warned her.” Sam sighs, and the pain in his voice makes me want to cry.

“Sam…you couldn’t have known that would happen.” I chime in, though it doesn't quite feel like my place.

“And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean we know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway.” Dean exclaims.

“No you don't.” Sam states, no further explanation given.

“I don't what?” Dean asks.

“You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything.” Sam shrugs.

“What are you talking about?” Dean questions, face full of confusion.

“Well it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?” He replied sassily.

Dean looks surprised, “No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it.”

“Dean, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this.” But Sam doesn't get any answers, with a roll of his eyes Dean drives off. Conversation over.

Sam is trying to pick the lock on the shop's door, somehow without any word he became the designated lock picker. The dark oak door opens and all around the store are mirrors, mirrors of all shapes and sizes and varieties. Truly the worst place to be in this situation.

“Well...that's just great, '' Dean sighs, pulling out the photo of Mary’s corpse to look at the mirror, the one we’re looking for being a wooden frame. Not very helpful considering our location where there are countless mirrors that look exactly the same. “All right let's start looking.”

I nod in agreement handing both boys their crowbars. I shifted my baseball bat in my hand, there wasn’t a third crowbar and there was no reason for it anyways, a baseball bat is just as good at smashing.

We enter the dark store, flashlights on, splitting up we look for our specific mirror.

“Maybe they've already sold it.” Dean suggests, from some part of the store.

“I don't think so.” Sam says, stopping in his tracks. Dean and I walk over on either side of the taller man, Dean pulls out the picture again comparing the two. It’s our mirror.

“That's it.” Dean sighs, “You sure about this?”

Sam hands over his flashlight and sighs, “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.” He looks between the both of us, “Bloody Mary.”

A light shines through the store windows, illuminating the room.

“I'll go check that out. You guys stay here, be careful. Smash anything that moves.” Dean shuffles away.

I grip my bat tighter as a breath that isn’t mine nor Sam’s surrounds us. He turns around quickly but I keep my back towards him, “Nothing?” I ask and he hums in confirmation.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Mary in one of the mirrors, I step forward swinging my bat back and then forward hard. The glass shatters falling to the floor around my feet. Then Sam hits a mirror behind me, before swiftly turning back to her mirror.

“Come on. Come into this one.” He mutters underneath his breath.

He tilts his head watching his regeneration weirdly when suddenly he starts breathing heavily grabbing at his chest.

“Sam!” I shout, grabbing his arm. His eyes begin to bleed, blood trickling down his cheeks. He drops his crowbar, the metal clinking against the floor loudly.

“It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica.” A voice rings out, one that sounds like Sam’s though I know it’s not him speaking. I help him to the floor carefully as he grabs his chest harder.

“You never told her the truth—who you really were. But it's more than that, isn't it?” The voice fumes.

I get up leaving Sam to the floor, “That’s enough of you” I mutter, gripping my baseball bat tight. I hit her mirror, the glass shatters around me.

I hear Sam take a deep breath in, when I look down at him he’s no longer holding his chest. He holds a thumb up to me, weakly.

But for some reason the voice didn’t stop, Mary was no longer hurting Sam but her accusations wouldn’t stop.

“Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning—You had them for days before she died. Didn't you!?! You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die!?! You dreamt it would happen!!!”

I smash three more mirrors, anything to get it to stop by it doesn't.

“SAM, SAMMY!” Dean shouts, rushing into the room and crouching down to his brother.

“It's Sam” He answers meekly.

Dean holds onto his brother's face gently, eyeing his face and the blood on it, “God, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam replies, a little unsure though considering the circumstances I get it.

“Come on, come on.” He pulls Sam up, bringing his arm around his neck with a nod of his head towards the door. I follow the boys towards the exit.

A sudden crunching noise forces us to turn around. Mary crawls out of the frame of her mirror, her long black hair covering her face, she walks over the broken glass with no care, her head tilting to the side as she crawls towards us. Her dark nearly black eyes bore into us, somehow she forces us to the floor.

My chest feels tight as if someone was squeezing my heart, I try to crawl backwards on my hands like a crab walk when a sharp pain surges through my hand followed by my eyes. I bring my hand in front of me, a large slash runs through my palm, a piece of glass sticking out of it. The ache in my eyes I know is not caused by glass but by Mary, I reach my gold hand up to my cheek blood trickling down my face. I suck in a breath, the pain not helping the already pain I was feeling. I look over to the boys on the left of me nearly on top of each other as blood runs down both their cheeks.

Mary stands approaching us with a head tilt and a limp. I grumble holding up a shaky hand, waving my hand once, slowly, making long mirrors form in a line in front of Mary acting as a wall between us.

“You killed them! All those people! You killed them!” A female voice cried out, Mary’s voice.

She looks at her reflections scared, when she begins to choke. She grabs on to her throat and her chest, crumbling down to the ground she shrieks, turning to a puddle of blood

With another wave of my hand the wall of mirrors shatters, glass falling to the floor loudly.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?” I hum feeling a little defeated.

“This has got to be like...what? 600 years of bad luck?” He asks me and I can’t help the big smile that falls on my face.

“Mmm I can’t wait” I laugh, the sarcastic comment coming to me with ease.

The sun rises in front of us, gleaming on the Impala. Our faves are cleaned up, ridden of blood and the event that unfolded. The only proof of it happening being my hand that’s carefully wrapped in white gauze, the glass now out and the cut cleaned.

Charlie sits next to me in the back seat as we pull up to her house, it's odd having someone else back here with me.

“So this is really over?” She asks us, her eyes puffy from her night of crying.

Dean looks at her through the rearview mirror, nodding, “Yeah, it's over.”

“Thank you.” She says, Dean reaching back to shake her hand. She turns to me next, arms open in a hug. I close the gap between us and give her a good squeeze.

She smiles a little sadly at me, getting out of the car.

“Charlie?” Sam calls out, stopping the woman in her tracks. She turns around, “Your boyfriend's death...you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen.”

She smiles faintly, turning back around to go into her house.

Dean hits his brother's arm gently, “That's good advice.”

We drive off the car falling silent for a beat before Dean talks again, “Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?” He answers.

“Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is.” Dean tells him, looking between him and the road.

“Look...you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.” He admits with a sigh, looking out the window.

The car falls silent again.

Healing isn’t easy. It's not something you can put a bandaid on and expect to be fine, and maybe all that Sam shared will be enough for now but that’s not something we can gauge.

That is times doing, and time isn’t something we can control.

God knows i’ve tried.

[withloveastrid]

✨My Witchy Path✨

Hii 🩷 These are the paths/magical practices I resonate with and have adopted into my witchy practice!

{Something about me is: I don’t like being afraid of things so I rather educate myself on it than live in fear just to avoid it. This is how I’ve gotten into Witchcraft and why I have interests that might seem scary to new witches.}

c o n t e n t s

➸ Religion

➸ Philosophies

➸ Witchcraft

➸ Favourite Tools

➸ Paths I want to Dive into

➸ Conclusion

𐐪𐑂 Religion 𐐪𐑂

Reconstructed Hellenism— I look at Hellenism and figure out what the myths and Delphic maxims mean in today’s age and situations. It’s a mix of Reconstructionism and Reimaginism, I do this by taking into account the culture and context of Ancient Greece and what feels right to me to do in my modern practice.

𐐪𐑂 Philosophies 𐐪𐑂

Animism— I believe everything has a soul/consciousness including inanimate objects.

Omnisim— I believe that all religions and belief systems co-exist and can come into existence simply by having the belief that it does.

Agnosticism— I believe that while every belief exists, we won’t know for sure which interpretation of a myth is 100% true unless through either means of divination or ascension.

𐐪𐑂 Witchcraft 𐐪𐑂

Divination Witchcraft— I love divination! From Tarot to Pendulums to bone throwing to astrology. I see divination as one with my witchy journey, I wouldn’t imagine one without the other.

Green Witchcraft— Herbs, plant magic, nature walks and animal and plant spirits. Green witchcraft comes incredibly naturally to me.

Sea Witchcraft— Oceans, lakes, rivers, seashells and marine life feel like home to me. Sea witchery feels like home to me.

Storm Witchcraft— Rain, thunderstorms, hurricanes and tornadoes. I feel calm in the chaos. Storm witchcraft is fun for me but I don’t get storms often where I live so when I do I take advantage of it. Cleansing under rainfall is one of my favourite ways to cleanse.

Cosmic Witchcraft— Stars and Planets, space, astronomy and astrology. I love talking to the Moon, invoking the Moon in spells or tarot readings, but really I just spend most of my time jokingly blaming the Cosmos for my mood swings, hardships or transformational moments in my life. I mean, don’t we all?

Death Witchcraft— Death and the Afterlife used to scare me the most after the Trauma of the Church. Hades, Hecate and Persephone have helped me transmute that fear into peace. Things like visiting Cemeteries, learning about + honoring my ancestors, watching zombie movies or morgue scenes in tv crime shows are a few ways I dip my toes into Death magic.

Baneful Witchcraft— Curses, hexes, jinxes, spells that focus on showing a person their flaws, shadows and wounds in order to nudge them into healing themselves is my favourite kind of ✨revenge✨ {for anyone who’s never done shadow work, it can be emotional torture sometimes, but it’s all for healing and becoming a better version of yourself.}

Ancestral Witchcraft— Not really witchcraft but it’s on the same path 🩷 I honor my ancestors and do what I can to learn about their lives, heal their traumas and strengthen my connection to them. I do this with divination, offerings, and spells.

𐐪𐑂 Favourite Tools 𐐪𐑂

Candles— I love fire and scented candles! They make good offerings for my Deities as well as great for spells or simple meditation.

Tarot— I love using tarot to tune into my intuition. Sometimes when life gets a little chaotic and it’s difficult to determine if what im feeling is my intuition or just my anxiety, I like to grab the cards and shuffle. {If you try this, make sure you ground yourself before reading or it may make the confusion stronger🩷}

Notes App— My trusty notes app, where I journal, keep track of witchy correspondences and cast digital spells! It’s definitely become my go-to app since beginning this journey.

𐐪𐑂 Paths I Wanna Dive into 𐐪𐑂

Draconic Witchcraft— I have a dragon on my spirit team and I’d really like to work more closely with them but right now I’m just reading about it.

Demonolatry— Demons are something that still scare me and I want to learn more about them after I move out of my parents’ place. I also follow a few witches that work with Demons and i’m intrigued with the growth that working with them can bring.

Osteomancy— I’m really interested in bone throwing and imo it goes hand in hand with being a death witch but I wanna learn more before I get a set of bones for divination.

Kitchen Witchcraft— Cooking is something I find incredibly fun but it’s currently out of reach for me until I move out. Simmer pots and abundance stews might become my favourite!

𐐪𐑂 c o n c l u s i o n 𐐪𐑂

Whew, that was long. If you made it through all of that, congratulations! 🥰✨

If you want to share what your path looks like or if you have questions about mine, please feel free to comment or use my “pigeon messenger 🕊️” I love having conversations with y’all 🩷

I’ll update this regularly as my path or interests changes.

𐐪𐑂 My Etsy Divination Shop

𐐪𐑂 Follow my Shop on Instagram and Tumblr

With love, Astrid 🩷✨

[delightfulnutinfluencer-blog]

Spook

Pairing: 141 x f!reader, Soap x f!reader

Wordcount: 4.1k

Warnings: MW3 spoiler, mentions of death, injuries, bodies, the morgue.

Authors notes: First post here or anywhere, and not proof read (sorry). I've been watching a lot of witchy series recently and this idea wouldn't leave me. Mainly because I reject mw3 canon. Am new to posting to tumblr, so constructive criticism welcome, though this is a throwaway, so will anyone read this? Who knows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake with a start, sucking great gasping breathes of stale air into your lungs. Moving your hands to clutch at your chest, your right-hand catches as you lift it, a large cannula tugging painfully at your skin.

Where are you?

The last mission comes back to you in short bursts, the waves of enemies, the dark, trapped in that large room trying to call your team. Makarov. Soap. The shot. It still rang in your ears, along with the agony of watching him fall. The shouts of the rest of the team pushing forward, desperate to reach you both. Your screams. Then… nothing.

He had always been the one to look out for you, when the rest of the men on base looked at you with suspicion and distrust. He was the first one to welcome you to the 141, to show you around, helped you train, kept you company in the suffocating days between missions. He was the closest thing to a friend that you’d had in years. You felt his loss like your soul had been carved from your body, leaving a just shell behind. But you could still feel him, tickling the back of your mind.

Like he was sat right behind you, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

I’m here, hen. I’m still here with you.

Sitting up slowly, you tear the scratchy blankets off your torso and legs. Hunching over, you feel the lingering pain all over, in your bones, in the back of your teeth, in the bittersweet taste lingering in your mouth. Your head feels like it’s in a vice. You feel for your power, eyes closed you reach for it in the dark of your mind, feeling it slip through your fingers like smoke. Still there, slowly rebuilding.

What the fuck happened?

Deep breaths, in and out, in and out, you fight a wave of nausea, squeezing your eyes shut until it passes, pressing your fingers into your eyes, trying to dispel the migraine building up behind them. The room is blissfully dark, some kind of hospital or infirmary, a soft yellowish glow filtering through glass window at the door giving enough light to show a handful of machines, beeping harshly in the dark. A chair sits empty in the corner, but the blanket thrown over the arm tells you someone was sat there recently, keeping vigil over your sleeping form. A clear bag sat on the floor beside the chair containing, you assume, your clothes and anything else you had on you when you came in.

Spook!

You snap your eyes open; you knew exactly what you have to do. Reaching over, you peel the adhesive bandage from your hand, and pull the cannula out of your flesh hissing at the pain. Whipping the blankets completely off your legs, you swing them over the edge of the hospital bed, taking a moment to ground yourself before slipping forward and placing your bare feet on the cold floor.

You grip the mattress tightly, breathing through your nose before pushing up onto your feet. Swaying slightly, you steel your spine and take a step forward, grabbing at your bag in the dim light and turning to dump the contents onto your bed.

Rummaging through the clothing, you stop when you see the flecks of blood on your t-shirt. Soap’s blood, dry and rusty, flicked up the centre of the green cloth. You tear the blue gown from your body, throwing it to the floor and pull the soiled shirt over your head, arms aching at the movement. Stepping into the combat trousers, pulling them up your legs like a second skin.

You always hated wearing the uniform, it never felt right to you. You weren’t a soldier, this was not the life you were supposed to live, but after the great Awakening you had no other choice. Memories of the Trials flitted behind your eyes, being corralled in a great camp for sorting, the endless tests to determine your skill and designation, and finally being assigned to the exact place you dreaded going- military. All your hopes, and dreams, your plans for how your life would go snuffed out in a matter of months, all control taken from you, and your future already decided- you would become a weapon. A tool, used by men who would despise you, until you were killed in the field, either by natural or unnatural means, or sent back to holding to rot. A shudder passes through you at the memories, you push them down. You have a job to do, you owe Soap everything, and you will give it to him.

The door opens as you finish buttoning your trousers, a nurse pushing her way in with a fresh IV bag in hand. Looking up, she startles.

‘What are you doing? You need to be in bed’

‘Where’s my team? Where’s Soap? I need to find Soap’

The nurse places the IV down, eyes following you warily, watching like you’d watch a wolf as he circled closer to you in the dark.

‘Your team isn’t here, you need to get back in the bed. Now’

You step back from the bed, and begin to circle towards the door. If she won’t help you find Soap, that’s fine. You would find him yourself, following his whispering voice. The feel of his lifeforce, faint but still there. Barely. You needed to hurry, before you run out of time.

‘I don’t have time for this’ you say, taking another step forward, towards the door ‘move, or I will move you’

The nurse looks scared now, you can see it in her eyes and feel rolling off her in waves. She doesn’t move to let you go, but she does reach to the wall beside your bed and presses down on the panic strip.

You’re in for it now, hen. You can hear Soap smirk against your ear.

The door burst open, a doctor and MP standing in the door frame, shock painting their faces.

‘What’s going on?’

‘She’s up, she wants to leave. She threatened me, how is she even up? She was supposed to be sedated when she came in. She should be completely out!’

Ignoring her completely, you take another step towards the door feeling for Soap again. Trying to find where he was, where you needed to go.

‘What’s the plan here, doc?’ the MP asked, stepping through the doorway to stand just in front of him.

‘She needs to get back into the bed, we can sedate her again whilst we wait for the team to collect her. We aren’t equipped to keep her kind here’

Now that caught your attention, the sneer in his voice, that hateful condescension you had felt your entire time in the military still nipped at you even now. You felt anger lick up your spine, power cracking through your body like waves of electricity, causing the lights to flicker once out in the hallway.

‘you put a hand on me, and you won’t like what happens next. I have somewhere to be, I suggest you move. Now’

The next moment felt like it happened in slow motion. The nurse and doctor stepped to the side as the MP, a large muscular man, stepping towards where your now stood at the foot of the bed. Large, gloved hand extending out to grab at your wrist, you raise a single hand, two fingers extended, and he's frozen. Every muscle paralysed.

You assumed he had never seen magic this close or been on the receiving end of it. Your kind were still very rare here, usually reserved for specialist units or personal protection. His face mirrored what you had seen countless times before. Fear, anger, distrust. You couldn’t blame him, really. It’s one thing being told witches, warlocks, and magic all exists, puncturing everyone's entire world view, it was another to see it in the flesh. See the power people like you held, and realising how small and weak normal people really are.

Tipping your fingers to the right, the MP flew with them. Pinned to the wall, feet dangling off the ground. You look to the nurse and doctor as they scuttle back to get away from you, and step past them into the corridor.

Didn’t even break a sweat, eh? You’re getting good

You follow his whisper like a bloodhound, walking confidently down a long corridor towards a set of lifts. You hear the commotion behind you as they frantically try to pull the MP from the wall, shouting for help. The thundering footsteps of more MPs running from the opposite end of the building to catch up with you and detain you. Or worse.

You break into a jog, bare feet slapping on the linoleum floor as you rush towards the lifts. As you reach them, the doors open and a familiar face steps out.

Oops, dad’s here. Best behave.

‘Captain!’

He looks shocked, looking from you to the chaotic scene behind you, three MPs sprinting down the hall, nurses and doctors scattering to the sides to make way. All staring to see how this would unfold.

Captain Price steps forwards, reaching for you and placing his large hands on your shoulders, the warmth seeping into your bones, grounding you. His eyes searching yours to work out what was happening, concern reflecting in them as he gives you a once over, eyeing your crumpled, bloody clothes and bare feet.

The sound of boots come to a stop about 10 feet behind you, the group of MPs stood, electrified batons out, one with a syringe of purplish liquid. All staring at you warily, and then to your Captain as he raises a hand, telling them to stop, taking control of the situation.

‘Can’t leave you for five minutes without you finding some sort of trouble’ he says, smiling warmly. Deep wrinkles creasing around his eyes. You wonder in that moment if he has family, he’d make a great father, you think.

‘Sorry Captain, but I have to go. I have to find Soap’

‘I’ll take over from here, boys. I’ve got this’ he says over your shoulder

‘She’s threatened the staff, and attacked an MP…’

‘That’s a lie! They wouldn’t let me leave, they don’t understand. I need to get to Soap before it’s too late’ you look into the Captains eyes, trying to will him to trust you. To believe you.

‘Staff don’t want her here, we’re to sedate her and transport her to back to holding for assessment’

You shift from foot to foot, desperate to get out. You wouldn’t go back into holding, you couldn’t. You were afraid if you went back there, you may never come out again.

Captain Price shook his head ‘She’s my specialist, have the doctor release her to me. I’ll take it from here’

‘But we’ve been told…’

‘I don’t care what you’ve been told, soldier. I’m telling you I’m taking her. Anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with me’

That seemed to satisfy them, enough to tuck the batons away and step back, muttering curses under their breaths.

‘Now, lets get out of here. How does that sound?’

You nod eagerly, leaning into his warmth. He pulls an arm around your shoulder, his height dwarfing you as you tuck into his side. He always had a way to make you feel safe, where Soap was your friend and partner in crime, Captain Price had been your protector. Fighting to keep you on his team, protecting you from more unsavoury postings and commanding officers, he treated you like an individual. An actual person, not just a designation. It was one of the reasons you liked working with the 141 so much, it was like a dysfunctional little family unit, with Captain John Price at the centre holding it all together.

He led you to the lift, directing you both down and out of the building into the cold night air. You took in deep lungful, each breath clearing your head and your heart.

‘So… what happened in there? Those MPs looked like they were about to piss their pants’

‘I woke up in the dark, needed to find Soap. They wouldn’t let me go’

‘So you used force?’

‘Barely, the guy folded like a lawn chair. Could have moved him in my sleep with all the fight he put up’

‘Spook…’

‘I know, I know. Moderation, timing, read the room, be careful blah blah blah… I’ve heard it all. But I needed to get out, to get to Soap. He’s calling me, Captain. I have to go to him. I can help’

‘You remember what happened?’

‘Soap got shot’

‘He got shot in the head, love. He’s dead. He died on the mission’

‘I know, I remember. But I have to see him, I can help him. I know I can’

‘There’s nothing to be done, medics saw him and pronounced him. They transported his body back, we’re waiting for his family to be informed’

‘I need to see him, there’s not much time. Please Captain. John. Please’ you look at him, cool air whipping your hair around your face, tears sting your eyes. This is your last chance, you need him to trust you once more.

‘He’s in the morgue tent. No one’s supposed to be back there, definitely not you. Not sure I should take you back there’.

He gives you one last hard stare, as if trying to find something in your eyes to convince him you’re strong enough to see you late friend, or maybe he’s looking for something in you to convince him to just take you back to the barracks.

‘You sure you want to do this?’

‘Yes, please. Take me to him’

‘Fuck’s sake’

He rubs a hand over his eyes and lets out a sigh that speaks to how bone tired he is. He looks back up and meets your gaze, whatever he’s looking for, he seems satisfied and begins walking you across the tarmac, towards the back end of the base.

A small shudder rolls through your shoulders, as you wrap your arms around yourself, Price eyes you as he strides ahead.

The old man sees everything, eh?

‘cold?’

‘yeah a little, it’s never really t-shirt weather up here is it?’

He unzips his fleece and drapes it over your shoulders. You slip your arms through the sleeves and zip yourself in, wrapping yourself in his exquisite warmth and smell. Masculine, smoky, those cigars you always tease him for smoking.

‘Thanks’

He nods slightly, giving you a final once over, finally noticing your pale feet on the tarmac

‘Fucking hell, where are your boots?’

You just shrug, continuing to follow him.

‘Couldn’t find them. I’ll sort it later, this first’

You continue your trek across the grounds, getting closer and closer to a large tent in the back corner of a large open parade ground. Ominous and white, it sits there in the partial darkness. Flood lights outside buzzing, as insects swarm around the bulbs, flying into them again and again in an endless death march.

You both stop at the entrance to the tent, Price looks at you once more.

‘You sure about this?’

‘I’m sure. I need to see him, please’

He nods and steps forward, holding the flap of the tent open. It’s freezing inside, even with the fleece on your teeth chatter at the cold. It’s not what you expected, though what did you really expect? You’ve never been to a morgue before, military or otherwise. Hell, you’d never seen a dead body before. You had no idea what you were even doing here, you just knew you had to get to him. You knew in your bones you could save him.

Almost there, hen. Just a bit further

The tent was wide and well lit, more linoleum on the floor.  There were gurneys lining the sides of the walkway, mercifully empty. Being in the UK, you guessed there really wasn’t much call for a morgue on base. Can’t imagine many people die here. You wondered why this one was even here, given it was empty. Empty save for one table.

Towards the middle of the room laying on a metal table, was Soap. Seeing him stole the breath from your lungs, you stopped dead, and just stared. Tears pricked behind your eyes and flooded down your cheeks. There he was. The reality of it punched you in the gut, you could feel Price wrapping his arms around you from behind, but you felt like you had separated from your body. Ringing in your ears drowned out all sound, your limbs felt numb. All you could do was stare.

Come on spook, don’t keep me waiting.

You snapped back into yourself, stepping forwards and out of Price’s grip. You approached the table, with him following closely behind, watching you closely.

He was still in the clothes he wore on the op, but his weapons and tac vest had been removed. You could see the wound at the side of his temple, flinching at the sight of it, and some blood marking one sleeve. Standing next to him, Soap looked so much bigger. Even in death, he was a beast of a man. A Titan.

‘He was the best of us, I still can’t believe he’s gone. Out of all of us. The boys are devastated, they’re waiting in the rec room. They’ll be glad to see you’

In the silence, you raised your hands, hovering them over his chest and then pressing them down onto his cold body over his heart. Breathing deeply, you listened, and felt him. Your power rolling through your fingers into him, feeling him.

That’s it, good girl. You know what to do?

‘Spook? You ok?’

You don’t move, don’t say a word. Price takes a step towards you, concern marring his face. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, but what you can do, what magic users can do, is still a great unknown, and he doesn’t like the unknown. He places a hand on your shoulder, when you don’t react he squeezes ever so gently.

‘Spook?’

Your eyes snap open, as you withdraw your hands. You turn to Price, smile creeping onto your face.

‘I know what I need to do. I think I can bring him back. I know I can’

‘That’s not possible, Spook. Even the medical witches aren’t able to do that, they assessed him, they told me they couldn’t help him. Besides that, it’s never happened, it can’t be done.’

‘I know, but please, I can see what I need to do. He’s right there, right on the other side waiting for me. Please, John. I know you’ve only known me for a short time, but please. Trust me, let me try. I know I can do it, I know I can bring him back’

Price looked at you with tight eyes, conflict raging behind them. You understood, those witches designated to healing could produce great results, depending on their level. But even the level fours could only do so much, their healing work was something to behold, nature defying in it’s beauty they could knit flesh and bone together like it was nothing, they could completely restore a battered, broken body with ease. But they couldn’t heal a damaged mind, and they couldn’t bring someone back from the dead. It had never been done, not in recorded history anyway. It had been attempted, sure, but every attempt had ended in failure. You weren’t even a medical witch, of course he didn’t trust you with his teammate, his friend.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t. We have to let him go. He’s gone’

‘I can help him, you have to let me’ you raise a hand and rest it on his chest, hoping to comfort him, to show him your strength and confidence in what you can do.

‘I’m sorry’, he cut you off ‘this was a mistake, I shouldn’t have brought you here. I’ll take you back to the boys’ He takes a hold of your arm, just above your elbow and begins to tug you back away from the table, trying to turn you with him towards the entrance.

He’s so strong, as you struggle in his grasp he tightens his grip, expression setting in stone as he doubles his efforts, large hand encasing your arm, fingers digging into the flesh, no doubt raising bruises beneath his fingertips.

‘Spook, this isn’t up for debate. I’m your CO, we are leaving. Now’

‘I’m sorry John’ you turn into him, and raise your hand spreading your fingertips causing his hand to release you. You gently push him back and hold him there, giving you room to work.

‘Spook, what the fuck! Let me go, right now’

‘Sorry Captain, it’s for the best’, pinching your thumb and index fingers together, his lips seal tightly, rage boiling in his eyes, and guilt flooding your own. You owe him everything, really. You only hope that if you succeed, he will forgive you. If not, you will have destroyed his trust, and the relationships that you’ve worked so hard to build over the months working with him and his team.

Best hurry, hen. He’s not lookin’ too happy with you

Sending one last pleading look at Price, you turn back to Soap.

‘Ok Johnny boy, here we go’

You step back up to the table, but you can’t get the right access. Cursing your smaller stature as you struggle to reach him properly. Knowing what you need to do, and knowing it’s going to make the Price situation so much worse, you sigh. Dragging over a stool from the side of the bench, you step onto it and then use it to swing yourself over Soap’s stomach on the table. You pass an apologetic look over to Price, who now looks a mix of absolute fury and horror.

‘Sorry! I need to see him’ you look down, ‘Sorry Soap’

You move up him, knees sitting on either side of his chest as you lean forward over his body. You press one hand back on his chest, hovering over his heart. The other you bring back up to his head, tracing the wound there. Magic crackles in your fingertips as you watch the bone and skin meld back together, leaving no visible mark behind.

Still handsome, eh bonnie?

‘Ok, here we go’ you say mostly to yourself, to Soap, and to Price valiantly struggling against your hold.

You lean forward over Soap once more, bringing yourself eye level with him, and dropping your face close to him. You pull all the magic you have, curling it around yourself and pushing it into him, into his chest. You can feel it enter through him, feel his body calling his soul back to it’s home. You feel his skin begin to warm from your magic, swirling it around his body, repairing and awakening his cells.

It draws you in, consuming everything you have, but you can feel it’s not enough. You press harder, drawing every ounce of strength you have from your very marrow, passing it into him.

‘Please, please, please. Come on Soap, you can’t leave yet’ Lights crackle above your head, you pass your spare hand up to his face, gripping his chin. Your head feels like it’s about to burst with the pressure, your body feels weak, limbs heavy, you close your eyes as a drop of blood falls from your nose onto his pale face.

You lean in close, and breathe gently against his lips, giving him everything. Every ounce of power, everything you have, your power, your sadness, your rage. He takes it all, the roaring in your ears growing, the ground trembling with your efforts to defy death.

And then silence. The world stops. You raise up, sat on his stomach, knees either side of his chest you tip your head back, completely exhausted, nothing left. You sense Price moving to your side, free from your bonds and able to move now you had expended everything you had.

He shook himself, gaining full control of him limbs before setting his rage on you. Striding towards the table, ready to rip you down onto the floor, to drag you back to the holding site, to be swallowed up by the system never to see the light of day again.

Just as he reached his hands out to take hold of you, he hears it. Soap, taking in a massive breath, eyes flying open to take in the scene around him- you straddling his chest, Price at his side face red with anger.

‘Hells fuckin’ bells’

‘Soap!’ ‘Johnny?’

[violetfairydust]

Friday the 13th Snippet Special

I'm going to post some of my snippets that didn't make the cut for my Hale-o-ween lineup. Happy Friday the 13th!

1. Malia Runs into Theo

As Malia rounded the corner, she almost ran into Theo who was holding Bree in a sling. She jumped back. Scott was still looking at the witchy stuff. He only saw her jump from the corner of his eye.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I just ran into Norman Bates and the seed of Chucky.”

Scott looked up and saw Theo and Bree. “Don’t be rude to Norman Bates.”

Malia ignored Scott’s comment. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here? I’m getting a costume for my angel. It’s her first Halloween.”

“That’s no angel,” Malia snapped. “That’s half the creep factor from The Shining.”

Theo held up two options. “Which one is cuter? The bumblebee or the ladybug?”

Malia stared at him with her arms crossed and didn’t blink. Theo waited patiently for her answer. Scott had slipped away to another aisle.

“The bumblebee,” Malia relented.

Theo smiled. “I think so, too. What do you think, Bree? The bumblebee or the ladybug?”

She stuck her little tongue out and closed her lips on it. She reached for the bumblebee costume.

“The bumblebee it is. That is a great choice. I’m going to call her Bumble Bree.”

“Get out of my face,” Malia said.

2. Stiles is Going to Con People

“There’s going to be a hay ride,” Stiles added.

Isaac cocked his head. “Tempting, but I’d rather fall asleep on the couch instead of the field where you’ll run me over with the tractor.”

Stiles winked and went into the other room.

“Where are you going for trick or treating?” Peter wondered. He stood behind Lydia and wrapped an arm around her waist. She smiled and leaned back against him.

“Babies aren’t allowed to eat candy,” Lydia reminded them.

“I know,” Stiles sassed. He leaned on the back of the couch with his left arm propping his up. He crossed his left ankle over the right. “The candy’s for me. I’m just hiding behind my kids because it’s much better to hand out Kit Kats to a deer, a dragon, and Minnie than some old guy in a suit.”

3. Kira's "Costume"

Kira joined the party in scrubs and a white coat. Her stethoscope hung around her neck. She smiled at her friends and went to join Malia, Lydia, and Allison by the orange feathered Halloween tree.

“I guess every day is Halloween for you,” Allison said.

“Oh, I am in costume.”

Malia shifted uncomfortably in her shoes. “What are you? Is this not what you wear to work?”

“I’m a doctor in the ER.” She smiled. “I borrowed the stethoscope. I usually wear my regular clothes to work.”

“You’re allowed to do that?”

“I figured no one would care. I’m in the morgue anyway. Who else are you going to get to be the M.E.?”

“Fair enough.”

4. Stiles and Derek Review the Candy Stiles Conned Out of People

Derek turned the signal on. “What did you get?”

“I got some licorice from Erica, peanut butter cups from Parrish, starburst from Deaton, and an egg from Coach.”

“An egg?”

“He said he didn’t want to waste the candy since our kids can’t eat it. He had eaten most of it himself anyway.”

5. The Hales Go to the Halloween Store

Malia and Scott paced down the aisles of the décor, Stiles rolled the stroller down the baby costume aisle with Derek next to him, and Cora and Isaac followed. Peter, Lydia, Jackson, and Allison wandered towards the back.

“Don’t we have enough decorations?” Jackson asked. “Every day I get home from work, it’s like walking into Dracula’s castle.”

“Vampires!” Stiles exclaimed.

Allison eyed the skeleton head soap dispenser. “Is there anything from this store we don’t own?”

“Yeah.” Peter gestured to the shelf. “We don’t own Skabs the dog corpse.”

“I guess that wasn’t here when we came three days ago.”

[dcviltry]

❝𝕴 𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖒𝖆𝖉, 𝖆 𝖌𝖔𝖉 𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙 𝖒𝖊, 𝕴 𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑.❞

                                     witchy mumu penned by sam.

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘.

MERYEM KAPLAN | air witch & kaplan coven

the youngest daughter of the kaplan coven, mery is a breath of air in the weight and grounded nature of the earth witches. she's flighty, and prone to laughter and trickery, often escaping her lessons to find some sunshine or the company of unassuming tourists. the lack of pressure for her to take on responsibility or leadership within the coven has spoiled her, but she minds very little, experimenting with the magic that feels entirely her own and leaving all of the difficult tasks behind for her siblings.

VINCENT 'SAINT' CORVIN | fire witch & unaligned

they say that he's from rhode island, from a coven that now exists in cinders. whispers swirl around saint corvin's ankles, they hover like soot. he's a dark creature, whose blade of a smile is too sharp for most pleasant company. instead, he is often found under the morgue of the funeral home that he owns, shifting through his collection of magical artifacts or poring over old grimoires. his magic is raw and instinctual, lashing out like a whip. those who dare speak behind him murmur that he's up to no good, and they'd be entirely correct.

FRANCIS MONTUORI | fire witch & montuori coven

the eldest son of leon montuori was conjured in his own image. francis is cold and cunning, whose mannerisms mirror that of a whetted blade. manipulation comes just as easily as flame to his fingertips, and he twists and twines through interactions and connections with an alarming lack of genuineness. with francis, everything is theatric and done loudly: when he is good he feels god-like, but when he has fallen from his roost: he is craven and despicable. often he is found walking through the city without true destination, completing the menial tasks that his father has set out for him to keep him out of trouble.

MATEO AGUILAR | water witch & montuori coven

he's noone's son, a water witch in the heart of many inclined for fire. no one remembers how he came to be, or when mateo blew into town– just that he has found his place with his crooked-fence smile, curving charming words into willing ears and putting out blazes without a second thought. he doesn't often work for a living, in fact– some would say he doesn't work at all. mateo finds employment as a club promoter and the occasional dj, shifting from one party to the next, causing trouble in his wake.

VICTOR MARIN | air witch & marin coven

son of the former luis marin, victor finds himself lost in the wake of his father's death. the marin coven has elected a new leader and he has shifted his way to a position behind them, scrambling to find a purpose and a place in a world where he had always been preparing for a role that he finds himself unready for. he's more of a pitbull than a man, baring his teeth and falling into anger before reason. vanity is also the king of his sins, holding hand with grief as he navigates NOLA with new eyes.

ALICE BURTON | water witch & delmare coven

the burton family coven was once prominent in england. they were renowned for their glorified righteousness, for their power to wipe out dark magic and those who wielded it. it was fire that swallowed them up and their great gift, and when alice was too young to understand it: she was without a manor and without a family. it was her sister that she tried to find, wandering europe with little in the way of magic or street smarts. she grew that way, a student of the wide world, learning lessons the hard way. her spirit is empathetic, and it has lead her to new orleans, seeking out the name of a woman who could very well now be a ghost.

YASEMIN KOZEN | fire witch & covenless

the kozen sisters are enchanting: they have been taught to be by their mother, a cruel woman who sent them into the world with little else. yasemin is a fire witch, whose temperament matches her element: she's hasty and destructive, but fiercely loyal to those whom depend upon her. it was a marriage that secured her stay in NOLA, but the dissolution of it has left her and her sister stranded. left behind at a hotel with little to their name, yasemin is angry and desperate, seeking out any avenue to find security for herself once again.

[hazelenergy]

3, 4, 9

3. How did you choose their name?

When I was making my first vtm character I was told to come to the table with a vague concept of who this person was. I drafted up the idea of a goth woman, stuck in a dead end retail job, and barely tipping her toe in more witchcraft. I wanted to have a "witchy" sounding name, and found myself on the beloved Fantasy Name Generator. After cycling through a few names, Hazel popped up. And it stuck.

The last name has more story significance. I didn't have a last name thought for her at all and jokingly said Blank. My storyteller, in character, ran with it, and her sire praised her for being more anonymous. It would be to her advantage to disconnect from her living name since it had risen in a morgue once already.

Once she got burned by the Second Inquisition, she took the last name Blanke fully. She wasn't 100% sure that they had gotten her name, but she knew they had her touchstone's information as well as Solomon's, her coterie mate. She wasn't going to take that risk. Plus, she thought it was funny when they called her a blank body that the name fit.

4. In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts?

A lot of Hazel's life prior to her embrace is best described as rough. The girl battles addiction, several deaths, she's stuck in a dead end job living paycheck to paycheck- there's not much hope. So she is aware of some of the horrors already around being a human in the United States. Being a thinblood in several ways was a serious upgrade.

9. Are they based off of you, in some way?

Hazel was wish fulfillment that I didn't figure out til much later. I recognize several aspects of myself in her, but she has developed in such a way that makes her distinctly...not me. It's an interesting balance. I've been playing her long enough that the lines get blurry, but also, there is still plenty that separates us- aside from the fact that I tend to use the same diction for every character I play.

[demcnsinmymind]

"Salem" Lance repeats with a smile on his face, watching as the cat makes himself comfortable on the blanket. "Yeah, that fits" he goes on, and the urge to pet him is so goddamn overwhelming. But he's been around his fair share of cats, knows how unpredictable they are. Especially when considering his hitchhiker. Who knows how he might react to that. So despite the headbutt, Lance decides against petting it, just keeps giving the cat some heart eyes instead.

At least until he notices the sad look on her face, one that makes him pause a bit. Lance frowns softly, as he tries his best to rack his brain for whatever the hell it was that he'd said to her. It takes him a while, but the more he looks at her face, the more it's starting to inch through his clouded and thawing mind. Sad eyes. Long, dark hair. That witchiness about her, that allure. Coupled with a unique kindness.

I should’ve listened to you. I’m sorry. Sounded like it came from somewhere deep. Sometimes you just need to get it out.

Fuck. Of course. He'd mistaken her for Sasha. God damn it.

Lance gives her a soft snort and presses his lips together, looking away because now he just needs a moment. Unable to hide how much it still hurts, and how deep that loss and guilt still sits indeed. But he braves through it just like any other time, because what else is there to do about it?

"No. It was uncalled for. Sorry about that." Then, he's giving her a soft laugh, but it's barely even there, more breathy than anything else. "Lessons learned though. Don't let the cold ice up your brain, kids."

Still avoiding to look at her, Lance starts looking at the window instead, facing the still raging ice storm out there.

"You don't happen to know how long this storm is gonna last, do you?" he asks, then, finally looks back at her. "I'd love to get out of your hair as soon as possible. But you're quite a ways away from everything and I don't think it's very smart of me to just bail right now, is it. Might just fuck your day up for a third time when I end up in your morgue as a frozen Popsicle."

salem, thrilled to finally have another human being inside the house, jumps up onto the couch to join their guest, wasting no time before kneading biscuits on the blanket. a soft round of purring begins. sabrina can't help but smile at how excited the cat is, and how welcoming. some familiars are extremely protective of their witches to the point where anyone new earns a bite or a scratch. and although salem can be protective over her, he's friendly too. "salem," she answers with a smile. the recollections of his past pets adds warmth to her grin.

she's a tad uneasy about having someone within the walls of her home. sabrina is used to being isolated, her only guests being the dead, the occasional raccoon sifting through her trash, or wolf passing by outside. over the years, coworkers have hosted events at their homes. seated on used couches, nibbling away at birthday cake, sipping canned beer or glasses of wine. but sabrina has, and never will, host such events at her home. it's too much energy, all stuffed into one spot. the work day often left invisible fingerprints from the deceased onto them. bringing that into her home, a space between the land of the living and the dead would only invite trouble.

when he brings up the car, and what he said during the drive here, a soft sadness takes ahold of her. she doesn't know lance super well, but he's more than just a stranger. despite the status of their friendship, and how far along it is, she can't help but care for him. it's rare when this happens, and every now and then, it infuriates her. her capacity to care for someone.

"bullshit? it sounded like it came from somewhere deep," it's the best way she can describe it. she's seen past the cocky shield of humor only a handful of times, this being one of them. the curious side of her wants to pry into him, sort through his mind, figure it all out. briefly, she recalls the ingredient list for some sort of truth elixir from her youth. only god knows what horrible secrets that dull orange liquid brought forth.

"no need to apologize," sabrina says with a shake of her head, "sometimes you just need to get it out."

[j0celynh0rr0r]

Meet me at the hanging tree

[taste-in-music]

WITCHY VIBES

Here’s a longer playlist for y’all... sorry I haven’t been posting all that much. Here are some songs that get my witchy side going. Enjoy!

Medusa - Kailee Morgue

Horizon - Luna Blake

The Magic - Lola Blanc

Holy - Zolita

Seven Devils - Florence + The Machine

Gold - Kiiara

Bag of Bones - ZZ Ward

Barton Hollow - The Civil Wars

The Way I Do - Bishop Briggs

Obedear - Purity Ring

Compass - Zella Day

Black Beauty - Lana Del Rey

If I Was God - Natalia Kills

No Rest For The Wicked - Lykke Li

Biting Down - Lorde

Listen here:

https://open.spotify.com/user/52z04r9hax5gt3m22dnj7uizu/playlist/3LMnYgO2yRI7PI30AQkLkA

[witchyeevee]

Why is there even a fucking controversy about supporting Antifa. THERE IS NO FUCKING MIDDLE GROUND WHEN DEALING WITH NAZIS. YOU EITHER SUPPORT THEM AND THEIR VIEWS, OR YOU DON’T. Neutrality only lets them breed their toxic and hate filled ideology like? There is no fucking neutral ground to stand on. YOU ARE EITHER A NAZI, OR YOU’RE NOT. THAT’S IT. 

and Nazis only understand VIOLENCE. Peaceful protesting is great and all but when you’re dealing with people who openly and actively want to COMMIT GENOCIDE IN FAVOR OF A ‘SUPERIOR RACE’, YOU BEST BET YOUR ASS THAT PEOPLE ARE GOING TO NEED TO SQUARE UP AND TAKE THESE FUCKERS DOWN, BECAUSE THEY WILL NOT BACK DOWN WILLINGLY. 

Like I GET not wanting to be violent but there is no, absolutely NO choice when it comes to fascism and nazis. And TBH, if you think they(Nazis) DON’T all deserve to be punched, hurt, preferably killed, then get the fuck off my blog! Unfollow me! Block me! I don’t want your fucking shitty ass person near me!!!! Fuck you!!!!!!!!! These assholes don’t deserve any sort of platform to spew their uglyass hate speech! AT ALL!!!!!! There’s no ‘but we need to be the better person’ or ‘we need to hear all sides of the debate’ BECAUSE THERE IS NO FUCKING DEBATE. NAZIS SHOULD NEVER, EVER HAVE A VOICE IN ANYTHING. And if you think otherwise then FUCK RIGHT ON OFF.

TL;DR: If you don’t support Antifa because you don’t condone violence against people who desire genocide and death of anyone who isn’t straight, white, or Christian, fuck you, fuck your shitty opinions, and I hope you have a terrible fucking day. 

[raymondebidochonlifechoices]

To summarise:

Dr Curdle Jr, the most overworked coroner in the history of coroners, rents out his cooler for extra money. Recently unemployed Betty Cooper splurges on a cadaver locker.

Wonky Timeline Alert #1: Archie is pulling 12-hour shifts in the mines. While still being head of RHS’s ROTC. And coaching football. At least there haven’t been any fires since he reinstated the fire department.

KevKev, who remembers what a real cult (kidney donations and all) is like, becomes suspicious when Cheryl tells him that their deity is not hot stud Jason, captain of the water polo team, but Mother Nature. Kevin, who is gay, quits.

Chad goes to his father-in-law to complain that Veronica agreed to give him alimony and leave him all of her assets. Hiram is impressed by Chad’s puce suit jacket and decides to help him by giving him a gun. If he can’t have Archie, nobody will!

Tabitha, who has probably seen at least one of Bughead’s high school sex tapes, wants to help them make some more. She knows that investigating is what gets Jughead and Betty going, so she enlists their help to help find Squeaky. Bughead make eye contact. Yowza!

Chad attempts to shoot Archie. Much like with his attempt to off Veronica with that helicopter crash, he fails.

I thought Jughead was on administrative leave but, according to this episode, he was fired. Another wrench in Archie’s plans to save The Town Formerly Known As Riverdale … Tarnation!

Jughead proposes to track his underaged ex-student on social media and have him travel all the way back to Riverdale in order to chat about his traumatic experience. This, he says, is totally appropriate, since he’s not his teacher anymore … Oh Riverdale! (affectionate)

He also learns that Betty’s last suspect swallowed his own tongue because he thought she would dismember him and is immediately turned on. Bughead have to visit the morgue to cool down.

Alice has a break down on tv and tells the serial killer to stop killing. The serial killer does not listen to her. Instead, they go and steal evidence from the morgue. It’s a hard knock life for Dr Curdle Jr.

The milkshake sign at Pop’s clearly reads: Chocolate, Vanilla, Strawberry and Blueberry. And yet, Lerman’s shakes are … green. Help me understand, Riverdale.

Archie is mining (heh!) his own business, when Hiram detonates an explosion.

Wonky Timeline alert #2: Veronica had her Quinceañera when she was 14.

Plotline reboot #6532672: Veronica has been knocking heads with her father for the past 4 seasons not because she was against his criminal activities but as a means to seek his approval. 

“Our dance of death is finally coming to an end” proclaims Veronica, after making a death threat, thus ensuring that the dance is, in fact, not coming to an end.

The Mothmen are a secret illegitimate clan of Blossoms that live in the woods. Nana Blossom has been replacing her husband’s illegitimate spawn by new, shiny, adopted children (Penelope). That’s big money for you.

Jughead, Betty, Tabitha, Toni and Fangs take the Mothmen down using a taser, a pocket knife, a gun, a shotgun and Jughead’s narrative skills. Oh, and the help of the one illegitimate Blossom accomplice who had previously freed their one male captive. Because: no homo.

Avatar Cheryl successfully bends all four elements to her will. She could have saved Riverdale. Instead, she saves Archie.

Archie Orpheus emerges from the mines carrying his Ericdice.

Chadwick, having already failed to kill Archie, attempts to kill Veronica. He gets shot instead. I don’t know what he expected. Smithers arrives just in time to mop up the mess.

Murder in Riverdale, it turns out, is a family affair. So far, the Blossom family -including but not limited to: legitimate blood relatives, adopted wives, illegitimate children of the woods, estranged blood relatives by the name of Hal Cooper, and young mentees (that’s Chick)- have been responsible for most of the murders that have been taking place in Riverdale since junior year.  I am now mildly worried about Cheryl’s witchy ways.

Toffee is chasing butterflies at the Iguazú National Park in Argentina. She has texted Betty asking to officially change her name to Toffee Jones once Betty marries Jughead. She also asked for a certificate attesting that she bears no relation to the Blossoms.

One down. Two more opportunities to discover secret illegitimate clans in the woods.

[pxppet]

Toying with a Roleswap AU, more on that to follow, but for now here's the roles being, well, swapped

Chase - Henrik role swapped

Henrik - Marvin role swapped

Marvin - Anti role swapped

Jackie - Jameson role swapped

Anti - Chase role swapped

Jameson - Jackie role swapped

In this AU the people themselves are not personality swapped, it's more like as though c!Jack had given them each other's canons!

So Jameson is a superhero who is boisterous and bouncy, but he's still the same JJ as in canon. He's old-timey themed and his powers are related to toys & puppets. Jackie is a captive in servitude to this AUs Marvin, but still the same bright colour theme (kidcore!!), need to save people, and upbeat attitude (at least at first). Marvin is a demon, but still alchemy and witchy themed, with a sprinkle of kidnapping plots and megalomania. Henrik is a "magician" of sorts (more like a backalley necromancer), but is still foreign accented and "works" at a hospital by breaking into the morgue. Chase is still a father, working as an EMT who makes educational videos for students. He is later kidnapped and tortured by the Marvin in this universe after failing to save c!Jack. And Anti is just about the most normal he can get. He's a father of one rambunctious little girl who he's fighting the court for custody of after he committed a felony. He makes income as a twitch streamer and makes new puppets for JJ in his spare time!