When Dean gets shrunken by a witch and wakes up in the middle of nowhere, the last thing he's expecting is to make a friend in his fairy savior. Cas saves him from sudden death and takes him back to a fairy village to show him a new way of life he would've never even known, so when the opportunity arises, it's only natural that Dean would return the favor—for better or for worse.
Keep reading for a sneak preview!
He's only vaguely aware of what's happening before everything goes dark; the next thing he knows, he's outside somewhere and surrounded by tall green stalks that tower over him. Great—unless these are cornstalks, it looks like the witch teleported him to another planet. At least this one has a breathable atmosphere and a familiar warmth from the sun.
He stands up and starts walking uneasily, setting off in a random direction and hoping for the best, but nearly trips over an acorn the size of a mini fridge. Did the whole world and everything in it grow…?
He hears a faint rustling and comes face to face with a mouse the size of a tank, realizing that the world didn't grow and he's the one that shrunk. Just as whiskers brush over his head, something scoops him up and his feet leave the ground. No, it'll be death by bird instead, because the universe hates him and knows he's not crazy about heights.
"Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap," he hisses to himself, hands coming up to grab at the warm arms wrapped around his torso—wait, what?
Dean looks up at his captor to see the underside of a rather human-looking face, and something in him relaxes…only to instantly tense back up when he realizes this can't be a human, because the guy has two pairs of translucent wings attached to his back, like something he ripped right off of a dragonfly.
"What the hell? Hey, put me down!" A buzzing noise emits from his captor and—yeah okay, definitely not human. Great. "Where are you taking me?!"
It seems to take hours for the creature to slow down and hover over a tree branch, and Dean yanks himself free.
"Okay, what the hell was that? Where are we?" he demands, and the creature blinks at him with unnaturally bright blue eyes. "Can you even understand me?"
Suddenly, the creature's eyes light up and it comes uncomfortably close, and a hand lands on his left shoulder as two soft lips press against him for a second, as if to distract him from the sudden searing pain in his shoulder—
The second it's over, Dean takes a step back and hisses, "What the hell did you just do to me?"
"I gave you some of my magic so that we could communicate."
"And why didn't you do that earlier?"
"I didn't realize you were attempting to communicate. It sounded quite nonsensical."
Dean only has a vague idea what the hell is going on, but lets the topic drop; there are bigger fish to fry. "That's great and all, but I gotta find my brother to sort this whole mess out. Uh…where are we?"
His eyes dart around from place to place to find what he can only describe as a paradise in the leaves a short distance away, with small buildings and houses on nearly every branch. More creatures are flying around everywhere he looks, appearing very much like normal people despite the setting and the wings on their backs framed by even stranger clothes made of leaves, flowers, or pieces of pinecones or mushrooms.
"Who are you?" Dean finally has the sense to ask. "What are you? Where are we?"
"I'm Castiel, and I am a fairy. I brought you to my village because…I didn't know where else to take you where you would be safe," the guy—Castiel—explains, his face and neck gaining some color that makes him seem all the more human.
I am every woman and girl who has ever lived, those who spent generations in peace never to know the terror their descendants would face and I am those who’ve never known a life outside the control of men. I am their tears, their blood, and their screams, and I am their songs of hope.
And you…
[his given name, his given and surname, his given, middle, and surname]
You men are wrong, when you say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned
You think it is rejection but that is because men cannot bear rejection
We women are raised to accept it from birth
No
Hell hath no fury like a woman brought to shame when he promised her to wed but did not
Hell hath no fury like a woman left to watch her children starve when she is put away in favour of another
Hell hath no fury like a woman thrown to the streets for the crime being true to herself
Hell hath no fury like a woman violated one too many times, and for some that will be the first
[his given name, his given and surname, his given, middle, and surname]
I curse you
I lay a curse upon you which my death shall not end
I curse the sky above you
The rain will soak you through
The wind shall pierce your clothes
The sun will scorch your skin
Never shall there be a time you won’t suffer heat or cold, dry or damp
I curse you
I curse the water you drink
It will always taste of metal, ash, and salt
For the blood you’ve drawn
For the tears you’ve induced
I curse you
I curse the land upon which you walk
May shards wear down your soles and cut your feet
May you trip upon the smallest pebbles
You shall find no steady footing
I curse you
I curse the air you breathe
For women whose breath you stole
May it never fill your lungs without pain
May you cough and wheeze
May you taste the ashes of the women you burned
I curse you
I curse the animals and plants around you
To scratch, sting, bite, peck, and give chase
Dogs will hunt you
Ravens will follow you
Your own shelter shall find you warding off the little mice and insects
I curse you
You will never again enjoy the taste of food nor ever feel satisfied
You may eat until you vomit and yet still feel the hunger pangs
I curse you
And that part of you you hold so dear
Though your lust will remain
Shall never be quenched
Never again will you find release
I curse you
A death of a thousand cuts
But do not seek death so quickly
For while the hell of sinners against the evil “God” is nothing more than myth
A hell of sorts for your kind is very real
And you may escape it some day
But it will not be quick or easy
I curse you
I curse you to die alone and unloved
I curse you to torment thereafter
To wallow in your misery
Until you learn, until you know, until you truly understand
Only then may you go to where it is beyond my power to curse you more
Other Items: Sharp objects and sour things can also be used in curses.
You can use a picture of the person(s) you want to curse.
You can also use some of their hair, blood, personal possessions, clothing, etc.
Disclaimer: I am not responsible for any curses/hexes gone wrong. Please be careful and think it through before you curse someone. Curses are not to be taken lightly.
Sam’s a Manson and Manson’s always get what they want. Be it riches, fame, or...people. A little Voodoo never hurts her after all.
*Note: Real voodoo spells featured
Sam pulls taught the final stitch on the little doll. Smiling down at it, all it needed now was it’s stuffing. Getting up and making sure her window is locked shut and blinds drawn. It was far to late for Danny to be out patrolling but one could never know. This has to be a little secret, after all.
Sitting on the edge of her bed and sliding open the night stand drawer. Gently lifting up the bowl of Blood Blossom flowers and buds. Rubbing her finger and thumb over one of the flowers, watching the slight give in the petals but mostly stiff. Perfect, they weren’t too dry. Picking out a bud to check it over, crunchy. Making her smile as she sets the bowl on her bed.
Getting up and opening her closet, pulling out her pink tourmaline mortal and pestle; carrying it over to the bed. It only made sense to use the one representing binding and humanitarianism.
Dumping the buds into it and getting to work grinding them down. Not letting them become too fine as to seep though the dolls fabric, but fine enough to fill all the space between petals. Lifting up the Mortar to inspect it, smirking, fully satisfied with her work. Setting that to the side and picking up the bowl of flowers and the doll. Stuffing in the bigger more pristine flowers whole, plucking off the petals to stuff in one by one for the rest. Firmly pleased at one whole flower being the perfect size for the head.
Holding the opened section of the doll closed and shaking it around. The more evenly spread out the better. Don’t want any part weaker than the rest. Before holding open the hole and gently flicking the crushed buds in. Stopping to shake it around from time to time. Till eventually content with the stuffing, not too full nor too loose in any spot. Perfect work.
Picking back up the ecto-line Danny so often uses for stitching himself, to stitch closed the little doll. Putting it to the side on the bed, before scooping all the excess into a heavily sealed bag. Couldn’t have Danny accidentally hurting himself with it. And hiding the bag under the floor boards in her closet, never to be found by her halfa. Pulling out a box before heading back to her bed.
Opening it to see all the final pieces she needs. A bundle of black hair and white hair bound by a white ribbon. Two chunks of Danny’s ecto-ice loving carved into flawless buttons, and a mini DP symbol fashioned from a torn off chunk of Phantom’s suit. All the ectoplasmic bits having been stabilised to last forever, by a device for samples she had lifted off the Fenton’s.
Picking up the doll and threaded needle again, pulling out the DP symbol and stitching it onto the dolls chest with practiced precision. Moving on to the button eyes, pleased that the size is just right; as she taps lightly on them once secured. Gently untying the ribbon from hair, before meticulously arranging the strands into the perfect shape. Securing each one with care and time, fingers somewhat sore by the end. Smiling at the doll, just one final touch.
Putting the doll to the side and holding up the white ribbon. Grabbing a silver curved knife from her nightstand and slicing her ring finger. Letting her blood drip down and stain the ribbon red. Collecting any dripping off in her palm, before licking the wound and her palm. Sucking on her finger as she waits for the ribbon to dry.
Nodding with satisfaction at the wound before pulling out a black candle, white candle, salt water, frankincense, bend over oil, and a powder bag of salt and camphor.
Putting the oil in her palms and rolling the white candle, till thoroughly covered. Dumping the powder bag on her night stand and humming as she rolls the candle in it. Inspecting it and nodding before placing it on a sliver candle holder and lighting it, leaving it to burn down to nothing. Scooping up the left over powder back into the bag. To be thrown where Danny walks in three days time.
Turning then to the black candle and frankincense, lighting both. Before sprinkling the doll with salt water, speaking softly but with power, “I have made you to be Danny Fenton Phantom. It is he that you are”. Smiling down at the ready red ribbon. Tying it around the neck, then wrists, then tying off around the legs; the length exactly to measurement. Putting away the supplies left over and grabbing her bag. Hiding the doll inside and walking out the door.
Once far outside of Amity and deep in the forest. Sam picks her way around till she finds a suitable tree and suitable rock. Digging a hole beneath the tree with her hands, nails slicing through the loose dirt with ease. She takes this as a sign that the fates are with her.
Placing the doll in the hole, burying it, and placing the large rock over top. Standing up and leaning a hand on the trees large trunk.
“North, South, East, West”
“This spider’s web shall bind him best”
“East, West, North, South”
“Hold his limbs and keep his mouth”
“Seal his eyes and choke his breath”
“Should he leave, wrap him round with ropes of death”.
Pulling out a pouch of dust gathered from Danny’s room and sprinkling it over the rock, before turning to head home. Knowing well enough to never return to the tree and having faith in her spells power. One to ensure he’d never wish for another nor desire to leave. One to bind him from ever truly harming her or the doll. And a final one, to ensure that if he ever left her side, Blood Blossoms would bloom and stuff him full.
He would always be hers and with her he would always stay. Whether he genuinely wanted to or not.
|☆| Note: It's cool and all if you're a Wiccan and your religion states that you shouldn't curse, so you follow that. I get it. It's your religion. This is not for you. |☆|
But if all you can say for why you're anti-cursing, is "ethics," you can fite me.
Everyone should have ethics. As evolving human beings, we all should be developing morals, so it's safe to say that your half-assed cop out is (almost) universally applicable. Congrats.
If you have a point of view that you feel strongly about, then at least make an effort to defend it. Don't just flake out. It makes you look weak and simple-minded. Spread knowledge and perspective, not simplistic bitching.
