HIGHER GROUND.

harvey kinkle asked:

‘ we’re at a graveyard late at night , what did you think was going to happen ? ‘

sabrina spellman answered:

♔━━━━━━━━━━━━━┑

Oh.. nothing out of the usual, absolutely nothing at all.

The snowy haired witches crimson lips was tugging into a small smirk, it was approaching Halloween afterall - that meant two things. Sabrina's birthday and more late night watching hours because October was the month for the 'oogie boogies' to come creeping out of the woodworks, especially at the Spellman Mortuary.

"Well... maybe some normality of things that remained dead" she announced, using her spade to swiftly glide through the air in one slice as she took the head off the zombie that had raised out of the ground; soil and mounds of grass shaken and cracking against the surface. The graves had been undisturbed until now, and even now she was questioning who the hell had their hold on this part of land to create such an army of walking dead like creatures.

"Get a weapon Harv, you can't just stand there" - the witch stepped across the cracks just to reach the grassy bank "hurry!"

Harvey tried not to flinch as the misshapen head rolled across the ground. He momentarily screwed his eyes shut, willing himself not to make -- god, was it eye contact if the eyes were rotten? He bit back the bile that rose in his throat. Images he wanted so hard to repress still flashed in in his minds eye. Tommy. They were all like Tommy.

Harvey’s hand stretched to wrap around the neck of his guitar, the only thing waking him up being the sound of Sabrina’s voice. Now wasn’t the time to be chicken shit. 

A low hissing sounded from behind his back, causing him to jump and spin around, pulling his guitar out of it’s strap before tightening his grip and letting it smash into the side of the zombie. “Holy shit!” He yelled, eyes widening as the creature tumbled down. He hestitated as a smidgen of guilt coursed through him, but brushed it to the side as his head turned to seek out the witch. 

“No. I’m styling.” Sabrina commented offhand, fingers halting only momentarily in her best friends hair as her eyes rose to the sky in thought. She worried her bottom lip between rows of pearly teeth. “I just don’t understand.” The witch absentmindedly resumed her work, delicately wrapping a strand around her finger before letting it slide off. “What are they doing in Greendale now? Oh!” She straightened upright. “Virgin sacrifice? No. No, that’s not it.” Sabrina ducked around the girl, dark brows pulling together in concern. Her hands found purchase on Roz’ shoulders. “You don’t think that’s it, right?” A sigh broke through, and her eyes drifted once more to her friends features. Her lips pursed, resembling a pout. “Can I keep going? It helps me think. And you’re so pretty, obviously.” 

The guilt that had sloshed when he sat, curdled into prickling anxiety. It thickened inside his throat and coated his lungs like heavy batter. Harvey couldn’t breathe. He nodded slowly at Hilda’s words. Harvey had no reason to mistrust Hilda. She had never been unkind to him, in all the years that he’d known Sabrina’s aunt, but magic still frightened him. Understanding magic was like wrapping his head around the existence of God and why bad things happen to good people, like his brother Tommy. Harvey just couldn’t make sense of it. “Two parts,” Harvey croaked out finally. “Which parts? I —” That doesn’t matter, Harvey. You stupid chickenshit. Man up. He shook his head and began again. “If it’s… If it’s the only way to save Sabrina,” he met Hilda’s eyes with his own, “I’ll do it. She’d do the same for me.” The lump in his throat ached. “What do I have to do?” 

-

Her niece, er rather, nieces were both in grave danger. Tearing oneself in half was a risky science. Very few witches and warlocks are successful at it in the long term, hence the predicament they were currently in. Yet they were low on options, and this mortal was one of the most resilient of the lot. The most... pure. Hilda had to hold out hope that he would be a successful candidate. “Well, I’m afraid that is up to you, Sweet Harvey.” Hilda rose up, already having anticipated his answer before she received it. there would be no reason for the mortal to be here. “You see, my part is to do the spell, to be sure it gets cast properly. Just a quick ritual with simple ingredients. It wouldn’t take more than a moments time.” Hilda turned her back on him, only to wave her hand over a small section of wall aside the refrigerator.

Delicate, ornate chains resembling a smattering of snakes hissed quietly through the air, stretching over the expanse of the wall. Hilda muttered a quick word under her breath, and they rattled angrily, before dropping to the floor. Scurrying away from them like frightened mice. Hilda opened the cabinet they were protecting, hand reaching inside and wrapping around the small tin inside. “Yours is a bit more... complicated.” She turned back around, tin cradled carefully in her palms. “Splitting one whole into two halves is... risky, as I’m sure you could imagine. The Harvey who will be split from you cannot be predicted. He will have his own thoughts, and his own feelings. He will be you, just as much as he will be his own man.” 

She approached the human boy, gently placing the object in front of him. “Harvey.” There was a moments hesitation in that one word alone. “The part that will be separated from you that comes out will do that, but only if he so wishes.” Mortals were not built in the same as witches and warlocks. Oftentimes, they failed to embrace the full scope of themselves, pushing the hurt and ugly and callous parts deep into the recesses of their souls. It was those parts that were so starved for attention, that they fought tooth and bone for just one hint of the light. “I cannot guarantee you what he will be like. And I can’t guarantee that you won’t feel the ramifications of him missing. The spell will not hurt. But I ask you again, do I have your permission to go forward? For Sabrina. If so. All you must do is take the vial inside of this tin. And in ten minutes, we will begin.” 

@soulsofcaos​​​ / Spotify Wrapped Challenge — 11/100

Nick slid his finger along the unruly curl beneath Harvey’s ear: an umber semi-circle that matched the rings in his eyes. Nick sighed gently. They’d been through this before. “I’ve got my heart made up on you, mortal. No one else.” 

Harvey’s hand drifted over the Nick’s chest, palm settling over his heart. Calloused fingers pressed gently against his ribcage; drawing invisible patterns over the gentle thrum underneath. During Harvey’s darker moments, he convinced himself there wouldn’t one. Now, his feelings weren’t so cut and dry. “Don’t say that.” He muttered with a shake of his head, eyes fixated on his own hand in contrast to warm skin. “If it’s not true. Or if it won’t be tomorrow. Just---” Harvey shook his head. “I’m stronger than I look, Scratch. I don’t need bullshit.”

swxpped:

{!!} – As if in divine premonishment, only seconds before the apprentice spoke, the stage lights panned down into a broad overcast of shadowed light, giving the atmosphere an unpleasant density that filled the space between them. 

Alexsander huffed in frustration. Harvey was very clearly floundering to mask some sort of hidden motive. It was second nature to the faerie to pick up on these kinds of things. For one, Harvey was speaking in fragmented sentences - not to mention that he was visibly overthinking what he was saying; it was as plain as day on his features, in his language. Had he really hoped to cloak it, to a mentalist of all people? ❝Please, I fatigue of the blatancy with which you lie. What do you really want to say to me?❞ Alexsander insisted of him there and then, leaving no room for protest.

He seemed impatient not only so that he may return to his work, but perhaps to be put out of his misery. Knowing that somebody had a grievance with you but having absolutely no idea what said grievance actually was could be anxious work, especially with how cagey Harvey was acting around him. Alexsander was beginning to doubt his own intuition. It was almost as though he had somehow affected the apprentice in a way of which he was simply unaware. It was disconcerting to him, to say the least. He couldn’t recall a time in which they had met before, but the familiarity with which Harvey regarded him would certainly imply that they had.

Something felt off, but he just couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

-

The air felt heavy. Thick. Like the doors had been shut for years, and the building no longer knew how to hold people inside. The frustration in the man’s otherwise unreadable gaze was nearly suffocating. Maybe it had entirely to do with the anxiety that constantly seemed to simmer underneath the surface. Or maybe Harvey really shouldn’t have said anything at all.

He cleared his throat, gently, to buy him time. His eyes shifted to the clean rag in his hands, twisting the fabric as the words began to stammer out. “It’s not... it’s not a lie.” He spoke up, now, eyes lifting to meet his gaze once more. And it wasn’t. Harvey had always been transfixed by magic. For years, he’d never known it to be real. When he was a child, he always wished it was. Until he got older, and realized magic wasn’t all beauty and light and wonder and calm.  Sometimes it could be, though. Maybe this show reminded him of that. “It’s just... I feel like I’ve seen your show before. That’s all. I guess I was trying to jog my memory.” He shrugged, as honest as he could be without over explaining. He always had been guilty of that. “Did you... perform here before by any chance?” 

“I still want to kiss you.”

Nick reacted with a harsh palm against Harvey's face, pushing him back a step. "Easy, farm boy. While I don't mind the sexual persistence," Nick admitted, "I prefer my mortal make out sessions free of compulsion." Nick knew a love curse when he saw it. "What did you take?"

Harvey’s face chased his palm like he was seeking the sun. The warlock’s skin against his burned even stronger. His eyes opened at the loss of contact, half-lidded and dreamy. Being around Nicholas Scratch felt like that. A fantasy he couldn’t seem to wake himself up from. “Nothing.” The word was eventuated by his breath as his eyes fixated on the warlocks face, slowly dragging down the curve of his lips. The slope of his neck. He lifted a hand up as though he were going to trace them with his fingertips, but the resounding deterrent that fell from Nick’s lips made him falter. “I skipped lunch.” To be here. “Just... some chocolate we were given.”

The remnants were still just as strong on his tongue, and it flicked out as though to catch the rest off his lip. “I have some left, if you want a taste.” His tone lowered, lacking any indecision or waver as a single foot planted forward. Yet his body remained planted where Nick left him. “Roz is okay with it, you know.” He carried on without pause in earnest, gaze once more fixating on his mouth. “She says it’s progressive, and it’d be kinda hypocritical if she didn’t approve, what with her and Prudence and Sabrina everything.” He said, like it was old news. But Harvey would rather talk about other things. Or do other things. Suddenly, he felt incapable of doing anything else. “It’s okay, Nick.” He cooed, strangely, before his expression eased into a frown. “Don’t you want to kiss me?”

The hobgoblin smiled warmly into their kiss. “Thanks,” he murmured. Leaves skittered around their feet as they ambled forward. Autumn was a complicated time for Robin. He wet his dry throat. “I’ve never actually thought about style before,” he spoke up. “Us hobgoblins, we’re kind of… proud. We can’t— we don’t,” he corrected, “just accept new clothes. But, seeing as I’m not living at Harvey’s house, it’s a little different.” Robin reached for Theo’s hand to hold, fingers sliding perfectly between the spaces. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re smaller than me. I wouldn’t want to leave.” 

-

“It’s not like that. Think of it as a thank you. For helping us.” Theo’s voice softened as their fingers slid together. “For being here.” Robin’s hands were warm despite the frost Theo felt on the tip of his nose; reddened from the moment they stepped outside. His hand squeezed at his boyfriend’s, not quite understanding, not completely. There was a lot Theo didn’t understand. He was still trying to. Sabrina was partly to thank for that. A small laugh floated into the wind, face scrunching up briefly. “Maybe it is.” He agreed with an air of faux seriousness. “Because I wouldn’t want you to.” Theo reached out, tucking his free hand into Robin’s jacket pocket, relishing in the shield from the cold. “So Roz and Harvey want to meet up soon, something about some spell Sabrina needs help with.” It didn’t feel strange to acknowledge anymore. "Wanna come? Or do you have some... secret Hobgoblin stuff to do?” 

“Remember who brought you back from rotting in your pitiful grave, mortal.” Prudence’s tone was cold, cloak covered breasts brushing the bare blades of his back, words spoken quietly yet no less fierce in his ear. Her fingertips ghosted along the outline of his spine, sharp fingernails biting into the flesh without a thought. “You do not get to ask for favors.” Her words resembled a serpent’s tongue. Sharp and cruel. Unyielding. “It is you who rubs my back, if I so desire it.” Her hands dragged their way down his body; all too slowly. There were few things Prudence did that weren’t planned. This infuriating boy seemed to be the exception to the rule. “Kneel. It is only right to worship who has saved you.” A hand traveled back up into the revived mortals hair, tugging his hair back so that obsidian eyes bore into her own. “Thank me.” Adore me. Her desire to be seen in the most pure of ways overpowered all else. “What do we say, Thomas?” 

“I’m... c-c... cold.” A violent cough wracked through Theo’s frame as he shrunk closer to the warlock, side pressing into what he hoped was the safety of his form. He didn’t have any other options. Theo wanted to believe - no. He knew their friends would be coming to save them. Theo wouldn’t die here. Certainly not with Nick Scratch at his side. If Theo were thinking clearly, he’d wonder if he was just as terrified as he was. 

Neither of them let onto it.

Theo pressed his face into the warlock’s side, cold cheeks warmed by the harsh scrape of leather. The smell was oddly comforting. Yet then again, he didn’t have much else at the moment.

“Just...just don’t let go of me.” Theo’s words felt dreamy; a side effect of him quickly falling into a deep slumber. “Wake me up. When they...” A sharp intake of breath wracked his frame as he snuggled his face in further to the warmth the other man provided. Theo never would have expected Nick Scratch of all people to be the source of such great comfort. Another small cough sounded from his lips. “...Get here.”

“She didn’t have to ask me. I know how she feels about you.” Nick tightened his fists, hatred boiling and putrefying inside his stomach. “She loves you,” he hissed,” and I’ve told you—time and time again—she would die for you, mortal.” Exhaustion bled beneath his eyes. “But I refuse to let that happen. Not as long as I breathe, do you hear me?” He neared Harvey with an intensity that hadn’t manifested itself since Nick was a child, feral and alone with his familiar. “You aren’t worth it,” Nick repeated venomously, “but your blood doesn’t need to be spilled. You’re better off alive, and we both know that.“ He pushed past Harvey and made his way inside the Kinkle residence. “Even without my powers, I’m not keeping you out of my sight.” 

The vehemence in his tone wasn’t what made Harvey falter. For once, it wasn’t fear that made him slink back. It was the truth behind him being here. The glaring realization of one thing. “You love her.” He said to Nick’s turned back; heart wrenching, but not of jealousy. Pity swallowed him whole, though he wasn’t entirely sure who it was for. “I’m not a threat, Nick.” The words felt hollow as they did biting. “I’m sure as hell not your friend. But hating me because you want her is going to end with you in the ground instead tonight.” With the threat that was coming, even Harvey knew they couldn’t have distractions. “And if I have to live for her, so the hell do you.” He raised his voice and took a stride towards him; determination being momentarily mistaken for bravery. “No one dies tonight. Not me. Not you. Agreed?” 

“What is this spell supposed to do, anyway?” Harvey pursued the shelves that decorated the basement of the mortuary, fingers reaching out to brush against a cover of a dusty looking book. A spark of electricity had him jumping and withdrawing his hand to his side, clearing his throat as he quickly turned his attention back to Ambrose. “And there’s no...weird sacrifices, right?”

@soulsofcaos​

“Harvey … did it work? Did you find your dad?” 

His heart beat erratically against his ribcage, eyes wild from his searching as he shook his head back and fourth. Hair flying with every movement. “”Brina,” he breathed. At least he found her. “I’ve looked everywhere, he should be here. He was right there, I don’t understand, I--” He stopped in order to suck in a breath, his hands reaching out to hers. A habit; his hands seeking solace when the rest of him could not. Harvey’s voice cracked under the pressure of his words. “I don’t know where else to look.” 

@soulsofcaos​​

“Theo?” Robin pulled on the sherpa-collared denim jacket as the wind began to pick up outside. The pointed tips of his ears twitched. “Are you sure Harvey doesn’t mind me borrowing his clothes? I mean, I can give them back if he needs. It’ll take me two seconds.” A mischievous grin slowly overtook the hobgoblin’s face. “I’ll be quick.” 

Harvey stiffened mid-step, guilt filling him up like lukewarm tea with no sugar. He wished he could say when. God, he wished he said no in the first place. Sneaking around was such a bad idea. He sloshed as he sat. “Sure. No problem.” The tubes of glass and Hilda’s golden hair gleamed in the dim kitchen light. “Those vials.” Harvey motioned with his chin. “Are they… for me? Do you need,” Harvey gulped, “mortal blood?” 

“Oh, hecate, no.” A shrill laugh emitted from otherwise worried lips as Hilda settled onto the chair across from the mortal boy. A warm hand reached out to pat the top of his. “No, sweetheart, not a thing like that. I do, however, need a small favor. You must’nt do a thing - but grant me your word.” She observed the expressions on Sweet Harvey’s face, shifting and morphing from one thing to another. “I have a... plan. An idea, really. To save both Sabrina’s.” Mortals were finicky creatures, but Hilda has come to find that this one always seemed to be steadfast in anything regarding that. “Though it does mean one thing.” Her words fell in gentle tones; imploring as she beat her way around the bush. Though time was of the essence. “I would need to split you into two parts.” 

Deeply, like the vastness of the sea.

You are a very passionate person. You feel everything so intensely, and that definitely includes love. You need someone who will match that passion, that intensity. You need someone who will care about you as much as you care about them, but you have a hard time finding that. You're usually the one who loves more, and it's sad sometimes, but it's okay. But you will find someone who loves you just as much as you love them.

tagged by: @codedlcve