#pw5

[makerofmoodboards]

A lesbian witchcraft moodboard inspired by a friend!

[pridewrite]

Prompt: Occult (#pw5)

There's something to be said for queering horror, and if someone were to make something dissecting the link between the presence of the other in horror vs queer themes then it would be very exhiting to behold. Something depicting the supernatural or mystical phenomena lightheartedly will be equally exciting.

Prompt: Cryptids (#pw alt5)

Hunt for bigfooot or flirt with mothman - there's lots of speculative sightings to speculate on!

[kosi-annec]

PRIDE PROMPT: Occult

Walking in the streets alone at night is usually unsettling for a lot of people; almost no one to be seen wherever you looked, your only company being the street lights that flicker now and then, with the dark alleyways that could have muggers or gangsters lurking on them just waiting for their next victim.

Walking in the streets alone at night, especially in a dangerous neighborhood, would just raise your chances of meeting the Grim Reaper.

Unless you're Phoul, unfazed by this kind of atmosphere as he continues to stroll through the dead streets.

In a very literal sense. There are a plethora of ghosts drifting across the pavement, wandering souls that had died in his neighborhood. If you tried to look closer at their spectral forms, you’d somewhat be able to make out their features. They all wonder about the streets; moving along as if they were pedestrians out on a midnight walk like him, believing they were still alive.

As the saying goes: ignorance is bliss, Phoul thought. He recalled his past encounters with the dead, the ones that woke up from their bliss. How the realization that they were dead broke the ones that couldn’t handle it, turning them into wrathful shades. For the ones that could, they just became a little bit more lost but relatively sane. It’s better if the dead stayed ignorant, for the sake of their sanity.

He continued to stroll through the damp sidewalk, watching the ghosts glide past him as if they were on a normal day, on a normal stroll. He made sure to avoid hitting any of them as he walked, he didn’t want to deal with explaining how he was able to faze through a ‘person’.

Phoul ceased his walking, turning his head towards the alleyway beside him, and stared at the small spectral figure hunched over itself.

The spirit looked to be a young boy, somewhere around 7 years old, that was curling in on itself, crying. The ghost was murmuring something—it’s hard to tell what they’re saying at times since when a ghost speaks it sounds as if multiple, whispering voices are speaking all at once, but from what he could tell it had something to do with “mommy”.

Phoul sighs deeply, and walks over to the child specter, crouching down to get to its level. “Hey, kid.” He starts, observing how the child tenses at his tone. “Where are your parents?” He already knows the answer.

The specter lifts his head a bit from his fatal position, rubbing his eyes—which is unnecessary since ghosts can’t cry, but the kid doesn’t know that—and looks at Phoul hesitantly. “I-I don’t know… I was, I was just with them…’’ The specter’s voice was shaky, making it even harder to understand, but Phoul didn’t need to. This wasn’t the first time he encountered the ghost of a dead child.

“Well, I can try to help you find them,” Phoul said, standing back up. “Better than doing it alone, don’t you think?” The kid tilted his head up, suspicion readable across its incorporeal face.

“Mom said not to trust strangers…”

“Name’s Phoul. Now I'm not a stranger.”

The specter still looked unconvinced. Phoul sighed, turning his back to the kid, and began walking away. “Go ahead and be suspicious. You’re not my problem anyway. Good luck trying to find your mom, kid.”

He felt more than saw the kid move, getting up from its fatal position and gliding to his side at rapid speed. He snorted a bit at the action. “Now you’re willing to follow me?” he asked, glancing at the kid from the corner of his eye.

The presumed 7-year-old pouted, fiddling with his fingers. “I still don’t trust you, but…” he hesitated, “I don’t wanna be alone, so I guess you can help…” the kid trailed off.

He didn’t really care if the specter trusted him or not, and began walking the streets yet again, not bothered to say anything else. He didn’t need to look back to know that the kid was following him.

Phoul knows they won’t find the parents, they were most likely nowhere close to where the two were. The specter thinks that it was only separated from them for a few minutes when in reality it could’ve been weeks, months, or even years since then.

So he just keeps walking, and in a few hours, the kid will fade back into what is essentially the ghost’s version of unconsciousness and forget that this ever happened.

[daydreamidea]

Occult

The second Helena first tried on that oversized, hand-me-down, over-worn funeral dress when her and her sister were sifting through their aunts’ things, the world stopped. It looked awful and looking back she can never believe she would wear it, but that first taste of black, dark, goth, it changed everything about her style. She found so much of herself, and as she expanded her wardrobe with new desires she only became more comfortable with her own image.

Now an adult, living with her fiancé in their own home, she would look in the mirror to see herself. Her skin was just as dark as ever, but was now laced with blue koi fish tattoos along her arms. Some times her hair was a dyed a dark blue, but at the time her natural black hair was let free and curling, the roots grown out and mixing with the dyed. She loved her mascara tears and black smoky eyes, dark natural lipstick and silver jewelry. At the moment she had in silver stud earrings and a thin grey fabric chocker on, a few rings on along with her engagement ring and a pentagram necklace. Her dress was full length but thin, a skin-tight leotard of sorts on underneath the sheer fabric for the skirt. The sleeves were the same sheer and were loose fitted, cuffing at the end.

Helena always got a treat when she could get Deven just as dressed up for their date nights. He preferred a more traditional suit and tie, with his preferred gold jewelry, but tonight she convinced him to match with her. Her wore a similarly billowy shirt, the upper buttons undone to show his chest and the furthest in corners or is top surgery scars. His dress pants were high wasted and embroidered with a rusted gold thread, a pattern of feathers and triple slashes. His make-up was similarly smoky with accenting yellow eyeliner and small yellow gems were applied. He also wore his engagement ring, paired with a gold cross necklace.

Their date night started as the sun was setting, with reservations one of the fanciest restaurants in their town, not all that busy with locals and more tourists away on holiday. The restaurant was overpriced, but the waterfront location, the live music, and the open skyline was so romantic it was quite the attraction. Folks who were from away and were unfamiliar with the couple always stared at the extravagant clothing they wore, but the staff always appreciated their patronage. Helena was an exceptionally good tipper and they both had great patience with the new servers.

[tiredlittleoldme]

Let them eat cake

“You know, she never actually said that.”

“What?”

“Marie-Antoinette.”

“Ugh, we get it, you’re a history nerd...”

“Nah, I just watched Schitt’s Creek.”

“You trust a TV-Show?”

“I trust that TV-Show.”

“Fair... So, she wasn’t making a stand for the asexual community when she... didn’t say that?”

“Doubtful. Don’t think they even knew what we were back then.”

“We knew. That’s enough.”

“Uh huh. Why are you buying so much Pride merch right now then?”

“Because I want EVERYONE to know ! ... Do we buy that huge rainbow blanket?”

“Fine. But I’m ordering cake too.”

“For Marie-Antoinette?”

“For Marie-Antoinette.”

[shields-and-depthgauges-oh-my]

purple corn cake and drinks

[writinginslowmotion]

Pride Write Day 5: Asexual

Prompt: Asexual

Media: Art/Character Info

Fandom: Original Character

For day 5 of @pridewrite2021, I decided to talk a little about one of my oldest and most beloved OCs, Bex. Bex is very special to me, for many reasons. She was there for me during one of the darkest times in my life, and the two of us have grown a great deal together. This might sound silly, but she's one of my best friends, and I am very protective of her.

Some tidbits about Bex:

She loves all things magic

Quiet, but not shy. Could be considered an outgoing introvert

Has a very shaded past--even the rest of the other Lost Girls don't know everything about her

Forms a close relationship with the youngest of the Lost Girls, Jenny

Is gray ace. Bex doesn't speak much about her sexuality or her gender identity

Uses she/her pronouns

Bex is still figuring out what being ace means to her, and how that fits into her life,

Affectionately referred to as "witchy woman".

[thursday-the-13th]

i'm pretty sure you're ace, because

you can only say you'd never want to kiss someone so many times

before i start to wonder.

//

of course, i'm no expert,

but i want to just float the idea out there

ask you,

hey, have you considered,

have ever you googled

asexuality?

//

and maybe i'm wrong

i don't care if i'm wrong

i want you to be right.

to know if you're queer,

or not,

i don't care.

you're still my friend,

no matter what.