Okay, this isn’t throwing back to too long ago, but it’s our super classy music video to the SuperF*ckers theme. Creator James Kochalka wrote and performs the song. Nathan Beaman of Urban Rhino filmed and produced the video. Catchy as all get-out.
By Superfic, I mean it’s longer than my usual drabbles. (I’m trying my hardest to write as much as merrickfemslash does, if you haven’t read their fics yet, shame on you. Go do it now)
A series of after dinner strolls.
Word Count: 4835
Evening walks had become a nightly ritual for Cordelia Goode and Misty Day. A way to leave the academy’s hectic life behind, if only but for a few hours. They left at eight, and didn’t come back until the light had faded from the sky. Sometimes it was eleven, midnight before the girls heard the front door click shut. If it rained, the swamp witch let her hair get wet as Cordelia watched from beneath the brim of her umbrella. If it snowed, they walked softly, afraid to leave marks in the virgin white, their breaths blowing clouds in front of them. And if it was sunny, as it most always was down here in New Orleans, they held their faces up to the fading light, basking in the rays of a new life.
They didn’t talk much. Cordelia would speak softly about the outside world, the outside world that Misty didn’t care for, and the necromancer would, in a flurry of whispers and wandering hands, explain what she’d saved, found, created in the greenhouse.
Sometimes the topic and the stories fell flat to the other’s ear, something the other didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend. Life in the swamps, life in fancy ball gowns. But whatever it was, even if the words didn’t translate, they listened to each other intently, a small smile tugging at Cordelia’s lips, a full blown grin on Misty’s face.
They had their differences, but that only made them stronger. Something the late Supreme had never understood, something the current Supreme so desperately wanted to understand. Something Misty herself had had to get accustomed to, as lonely as she’d been all her life.
Misty day turned her jaw up to the sky as she heard a distant church bell toll out eight times. She unfolded her legs and stood, back protesting, fingers aching to return to her warm cup of tea. The sun was almost down on this cold October night, and she waited patiently, back to the front door, for Cordelia’s appearance.
It didn’t take long. Cordelia respected time. She always had. Misty, on the other hand, had taken to sitting out front on the patio almost an hour before their scheduled walk, afraid that she’d miss it, afraid that she’d ignore the clock and thus ignore the Supreme, and that she didn’t want. Cordelia didn’t need to be ignored ever again. She’d had enough of that for a lifetime, and Misty sure as hell wasn’t about to hurt her.
Space and time and rational thought were a big thing for Cordelia, it was important. And as much as Misty enjoyed being close and staying up to impossible hours and doing things on a whim, she knew that in relationships, even friendly ones, you had to make sacrifices. Kyle had stopped eating peanut butter, knowing it disgusted Zoe, and she in return had stopped blasting the Black Eyed Peas, whatever that was.
And so Cordelia walked out behind her, Misty listening to the girls inside bickering before she shut the door quietly, plunging them into silence. The older blonde had put a woolen jacket over herself, though she bit her lip glancing down at her dress. She gazed up at Misty and shrugged, almost as if apologizing. The swamp witch just smiled back, reassuring her. Cordelia just sighed, eyebrows up at her own lack of attention.
They walked down the steps, the necromancer ahead.
Like a disc that played every night, Misty turned around halfway and held out her hand for the headmistress to take, but the older blonde only frowned, almost as if she was confused, and she fell into step with Misty, whose arm fell limply to her side. They fell quiet, save for the noise of their heels on the pavement, on the sidewalk, the leaves softly crunching underneath them.
“Sorry.” Cordelia breathed out. A breeze passed by, lifting the edges of her dress, and she hugged herself.
“I know you’re tactile, I know.” The Supreme shook her head, and closed her eyes, letting Misty’s echoing steps guide her down the road, remnants of her blind days. She opened her dark eyes after a few moments and glanced sideways at the swamp witch. “I’m just not. I never was. You’ll have to forgive me.”
“Always.” The wild blonde answered softly.
Every night, she offered her hand, and every night Cordelia shook her head. Not tonight. Not yet.
Misty didn’t mind. She’d keep holding out her fingers until one day, the Supreme ghosted hers over her own.
“How was class?” Cordelia began quietly, aiming her feet down the street. They had no set road. They just walked and saw where they ended up.
“Good. Real good. Jaqueline is gettin’ real handy with them plants. You’d be proud of her.”
“I am.” The older blonde whispered back. “I’m proud of all my girls.”
They fell into another comfortable silence, Misty meandering down the path and Cordelia walking straight, shoulders bumping occasionally as the necromancer feigned losing her balance, the pavement’s uneven, she wanted to say. But Cordelia didn’t mention it.
“I’m proud of you too, you know?”
Misty glanced at her. “Me?”
“Yes, Misty.” Cordelia smiled softly. “You’ve taken on so much responsibility, and you’ve done it well. I couldn’t ask for a better teacher, A better confidante.”
The swamp witch wriggled her nose, blushing. “Thanks. But, ah, Delia?”
“What’s a confidante?”
The Supreme’s laughter brought a grin to Misty’s face. “A confidante is someone you tell everything to, Misty.” She paused. “I believe the dictionary definition is ‘a person to whom secrets, private matters, and problems are confided to’. It’s French.” She added, knowing it’d delight Misty.
The dying sun shone in the Supreme’s white blonde hair, and Misty faltered behind the woman, and in that instant she knew she loved Cordelia. Granted, if she was being honest with herself, she loved everyone. She loved the council and Kyle and all the girls, the tiniest ones most of all. But this love was different, she knew it, even if she had never experienced it before.
And maybe, just maybe, she was falling in love with Cordelia.
Confidante. She’d take it. She’d take it to her grave.
She caught up to the Supreme at the top of a small hill, shawl threatening to fly off, and she grinned, and pointed to the edge of the forest, about a mile off. “There’s the swamps.”
“We’ve gone quite far.”
“Ya wanna keep goin’? Just a bit?”
Cordelia gazed evenly at Misty, dark eyes boring into hers, and nodded slowly. She didn’t even look at her watch. “Why not?”
The swamp witch excitedly took off, her friend doing her best to keep up in the tall grasses. It was easy for the necromancer to run ahead, she had her tall boots, the brown ones. Cordelia was wearing her black flats, and the plants tickled her legs madly, making her pause every few steps to itch at her skin.
Misty noticed easily, but she debated turning around to help the Supreme. Cordelia 'was a big girl’. Her words. Not mine. But she turned to walk backwards anyway.
“Fine.” Cordelia said. “Great, actually.”
“Ya don’t have to try and impress me, Delia.”
“It’s not about making an impression. It’s about dignity, at this point.” The older blonde answered, reaching down to scratch at her knee. She glanced up and smiled sadly. “Help?”
“It’s only a few more feet, Delia.” But Misty made her way back to Cordelia’s side anyway. “Walk where I’m walkin’, yeah?” She held out her hand to offer support, but Cordelia shook her head, waving her away.
“This is embarrassing enough. I can walk by myself.”
Misty shrugged halfheartedly and did her best to flatten the grasses for Cordelia, waving a path to the edge of the swamps where it was considerably sparse. Cordelia thanked her, passed a hand over her shoulder briefly, and continued walking, bending down to avoid the low branches. Misty followed in wonder.
By then, the moon was out and the cicadas sung softly in their ears, and thankfully, there were no mosquitoes or gnats to annoy them. Cordelia paused to sigh and look up at the sky from between the brambles and the trees.
“I’m a city girl, you know?”
“But I can’t say I hate the swamps. It’s nice like this, at night.”
The necromancer followed her gaze. “I used to stay up real late to look at the sky.”
“Me too.” Cordelia smiled at her. “Who knows, we could have been looking at the same stars this entire time.” She began walking again, following the sounds of running water. Misty took a few moments to follow her, blue-green eyes stuck on the flickering lights above them.
Misty opened her eyes. One. Two. Three-
“Let’s go, Mist.”
The swamp witch gazed up, surprised at the tone of Cordelia’s voice, at the way she barreled down the short steps and into the driveway, not bothering to look behind her to see if the necromancer was keeping up. But she was.
“I just need a walk, yeah? A quick one. Just-, keep up.”
Misty looked away, but did as she was told. Cordelia was practically running ahead of her, her hands fists at her side. The wild blonde was glad she was taller, that her legs were longer. She figured that someone else might have given up on the Supreme, would have left her to her thoughts and to her musings, but Misty had told her months ago they’d walk together every night, and she wasn’t about to break her promise.
They took a left at the end of the street, headed for the city’s heart, the heat stifling for a fall night, stifling like Cordelia’s silence, a silence that Misty so badly wanted to break. She faltered a few steps, thunder in Cordelia’s aura, not wanting to be burned.
They walked like that, the Supreme ahead and her swamp witch behind, hands deep in her pockets. The wild blonde tried extremely hard to ignore the sobs wrenching out of Cordelia’s throat, knowing that if she asked she wouldn’t be answered, however hard she tried, however many times she raised the question.
New Orlean’s downtown was but a few blocks away by then, and Misty wondered if they’d go that far. Why not keep going?
Cordelia stopped abruptly and turned around, and surprise, uncertainty, passed through her dark eyes. “Misty.” The tears were barely dried on her face.
“Ya told me to keep up. I did.”
The Supreme suddenly sat down on the edge of the sidewalk, and she rested her chin on her knees, her knees that she kept close to her chest. Misty watched her from above, but she felt intrusive, hovering like that. She sat down a foot or two away and tucked her legs beneath her.
“I’m really sorry.” Cordelia said quietly, her eyes slipping shut.
“For-” She waved her hands around awkwardly. “For this. For this mess.”
“It ain’t a mess. Feelin’s aren’t a mess. Never are.” Misty paused. “I’m your confidante, after all. I really am in no place to judge.” She added quietly, using the term she’d come to appreciate a whole damn lot in the last few days.
Cordelia cocked her head to the side, a small smile gracing her lips. “I like that word when it tumbles out from your mouth.”
“Is it my twang?”
“Something like that. I’m not sure. It’s just nice.” The Supreme burrowed deeper into her own chest, suddenly shivering. She’d left without a jacket. “I was cleaning up the office, and I found a bunch of Fiona’s things.” Misty glanced sideways at her. “Play bills, love letters, concert tickets, the usual, you know? But tucked in all that shit, she had a picture of me as a kid.” Cordelia turned her face away. “As a kid, Mist.”
“She cared about ya.”
“No she didn’t.”
“Yes, she did. All mamas care.” Misty insisted.
The swamp witch laughed despite the chill in the air. “Even mine. She burned me for a reason, ya know? She was tryin’ to save my soul.” She shrugged. “She just took it a bit too far.”
“A bit.” Cordelia echoed. A moment passed.
Misty nodded, knowing that this was an inner war, a war she couldn’t offer any help in. She unwrapped her shawl and stood briefly to drape it over Cordelia’s shoulders. The Supreme glanced up, frowning.
“I ain’t cold.” The swamp witch shook her head. “But ya are, your lips are turnin’ blue.”
“I wasn’t cold before.”
“Ya were angry before. Now you’re just spent.” The necromancer sat back down, a little closer this time, but still not touching. “I used to do that a lot.”
“Get angry real quick. I’d stomp and I’d yell and I’d throw things. But it didn’t matter much, there was no one to see me, no one to show off to. I learned that if I just took a few deep breaths, it had the same endin’ as if I got mad.” Misty explained quietly. “I’d get real hot, and then I’d get real cold. Meditatin’ helped. Especially after I was burned.”
“You’re saying I should do some yoga?”
“Whatever floats your boat.”
Cordelia frowned at her. “Who taught you to say that?”
Misty blushed to her roots. “Queenie. Did I use it right?”
“Yeah, yeah you did.”
Kyle sat next to Misty playing gin, a game he’d gotten incredibly good at and that the swamp witch only dabbled in. She stuck out her tongue thoughtfully, and threw down a card. The boy looked up triumphantly.
“I think I win.”
“Dammit.” She threw down her deck and tilted back until she was laying on the wooden patio. He followed her down and together they looked up at the second floor’s balcony. “You’re too good, Kyle.”
He shrugged. “It’s just a lot of practice.” But he took the compliment graciously anyway. They fell into a silence, their intakes of air echoing each other’s, enjoying the dying Louisiana sun. Kyle’s dark eyes seemed to glow gold as he stared in awe.
The two craned their necks back as Cordelia’s shoes came into view, and they gazed up her slender frame and into her smiling face.
“You’re all backwards, Delia.”
“You still look good, though.” Kyle added. They shared a laugh as the Supreme shook her head.
“Misty, are you ready?”
“Of course.” She glanced at the boy. “We’ll play again tomorrow, kay?” He nodded avidly and sat up with her. He waved as they walked down the driveway.
As soon as they turned the corner, Cordelia closed a bit of the distance between her and Misty. “I’ve got great news.”
“Ya got the house.”
“I got the house.” The Supreme echoed, grinning.
“Holy shit, Delia, that’s awesome!”
The older blonde nodded, letting out a deep breath. “I’m just glad the stress is over.” So was Misty. The prospects of a new place had taken quite the toll on the Supreme. She hadn’t been sleeping well. “You and the council are going to have to help me, rooming wise. We can start moving girls in as soon as next year.”
Misty nodded, hair bouncing. In moments like these, the Supreme shone. “This is real excitin’.”
“For you and me both.” Cordelia walked ahead, joy in her stance and in her walk and in the way she glanced back at Misty to make sure she was following. It only helped to reaffirm the love the girl held for her friend, her teacher.
If this made her happy, Misty would personally invest in realty around New Orleans. She’d get Madison and Queenie and Kyle to help her build houses. Hell, she’d do it by herself if it meant she could get the woman to grin like that all the time. She ran ahead to catch up.
“We’ll be able to fit in at least another hundred girls. I’ll have to ask the alumni to help out, of course.” Cordelia continued, dark eyes shining. “But, my god, Misty!”
Suddenly, Misty stopped walking. The Supreme turned to her, puzzled. “Mist, what is it?”
“Does this mean we won’t do this no more?”
“Walk.” The swamp witch explained quietly, her breathing rapidly spiraling out of control. “If we got another hundred girls, ya won’t have time for me.”
Cordelia cocked her head to the side. “You’re afraid I’d leave you.”
“No. I’m afraid of when you’ll leave me.”
“Misty. I would never.” The Supreme stepped up to the wild blonde, almost invading her personal space, just a hair shy. “I would never.”
Snow fell around them, a sight for both the witches, yet a welcomed one. Cordelia had seen quite a few showers, having spent Christmas in Paris and Venice and London, but for Misty, who’d only seen an inch or two in her lifetime, it was still a joyous occasion. She walked ahead of Cordelia, face up to the sky, tongue out.
“Are you really trying to catch snowflakes?”
“Why don’t ya?”
“I’m an adult, Misty.”
“And I ain’t?” The wild blonde grinned at the Supreme, who only shook her head. The older witch tightened her hold on herself, scarf reaching up to her nose, her dark eyes fixed on Misty. The necromancer couldn’t tell if she was blushing because of the cold or because of her.
She walked back to the Supreme’s side and shifted closer, for warmth, Mist. For warmth. But Cordelia didn’t complain. And yet she didn’t take Misty’s gloved fingers.
In all the hours they spent, they’d gotten closer, of course. Cordelia didn’t shy away anymore when Misty reached into her plate or reached for the same plant, the same shears, and she’d taken to brushing past the swamp witch when she was in the way, or simply in the same room. Small victories for Misty, who treasured them all. Though she couldn’t complain, being the Supreme’s friend was as big a gift as anything else. She was living the dream.
They took the path down to the swamps, boots crunching on the fallen snow, on the frozen leaves. Cordelia didn’t say anything as they walked through the tall grasses, black pants saving her from their endless wrath, but she did pause at the edge of the forest.
“I don’t really want to slip up in there, Mist.” The Supreme admitted. “You know cellphones don’t work in that foliage. If one of us gets hurt…”
“We could get hurt at any other time of the year, Delia.”
To that, Cordelia didn’t have a reply.
“What is it really?” Misty asked, frowning.
“I, I don’t want to go.”
The necromancer’s face fell. “Oh.”
“Not because it’s the swamps, I love it, you know that.”
“It gets mighty pretty when it snows in there, Delia.”
“I know.” Cordelia scuffed the tip of her boot in the snow. “I know. But so do you.”
Misty’s ears burned. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s getting really late, can we go home?”
The swamp witch regarded her calmly with her blue-green eyes and she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else, something more the Supreme wanted to say. But she shrugged and followed Cordelia home.
“I care about you a lot.”
“Jesus, Cordelia.” Misty glanced sideways, her eyes landing on a floral printed skirt. “We haven’t even left the property yet, and you’re already gettin’ all existential?” She looked up the Supreme’s long legs and into dark eyes.
“I’m just saying.” The older blonde said. The necromancer stood and they began to walk together, the moon already climbing in the sky. “I was thinking about what you said a few days ago. About you being worried I’d leave you.” She explained quietly. “I’d never leave you. You have to know that.”
“I know.” Misty replied softly. “I know that now.”
Cordelia nodded, as if reassuring herself. She took a few moments to collect herself. “Why would you think that I’d leave you?”
“Ya got all these new girls to take care of and new property, I figured ya’d be swamped.” She grinned at her own pun, and even Cordelia allowed herself a small smile.
“Never.” The Supreme echoed from earlier. She reached her hand out as if to offer it to Misty, but in a flurry of afterthoughts stuck it into her coat pocket, blushing madly. “It’s cold.” She said, trying to ward off her reddening cheeks.
“It wasn’t this cold last year.” Cordelia countered.
Misty shrugged. “I don’t remember. To be honest, it was the first time living in a place with heatin’, so I was as cozy as a lightnin’ bug.”
The older blonde glanced sideways at her. “A whole year.”
“You’ve only been here a year, Misty.” Cordelia continued. “And yet I feel like it’s been forever.”
“Me too.” The swamp witch whispered. “Is it safe to say that I was meant to find ya? The academy?”
“Yes. Our souls are connected.” The headmistress suddenly backtracked. “I mean, your soul, it’s connected to other witches. Zoe and Queenie and-”
“I get ya.”
Cordelia faltered and turned to look at her. “You do?”
“Yeah.” The necromancer gave her a brave smile, one the Supreme could feed off of. “I do.”
In a sight as rare as the rapture itself, Cordelia had brought work out with her on her and the swamp witch’s walk. Various manila folders and post it notes stuck out at odd angles as she talked rapidly with Misty, who watched in concern.
“Are ya sure ya don’t want me to hold somethin’?”
“Oh, fine. Just don’t lose anything.” Cordelia said, giving a stack to Misty, who wrapped her arms around them protectively. “I’m just horribly horribly lacking in time. I have to get all this done before the end of the semester and-”
“We could just have skipped the walk, ya know?”
Cordelia looked up, aghast. “No. Never.”
“Just don’t trip, yeah?”
“I’ll be careful, Misty.” The Supreme gave her a smile. She sighed. “You’d think our witchy ancestors would have come up with a time halting spell.” She looked up at the sky thoughtfully. “Actually, I wonder why none of our girls have a power like that.” She shook her head, continuing to talk to herself as Misty followed, amused. “No, this isn’t Charmed.”
“This girl’s pretty young.”
Cordelia glanced back at Misty, who’d opened one of the folders and was peering at a potential student’s file. She smiled sadly. “Weren’t we all?”
“Have ya found an alchemist?”
“No, not yet.” The Supreme shrugged. “Though if we’re being honest, I don’t think anyone ever wants to come forward to say they’re good with plants, of all things. It sucks, especially with girls who transmutate or harm or read minds. Especially with powerful girls like you, Mist. Your power’s rare.”
“Or maybe alchemists are rare.” The swamp witch countered. “Just like me.”
Cordelia smiled softly. “Maybe.” She waited until the necromancer was close, shoulders brushing, before starting to walk again, eyes scanning the hot pink post its attached to one folder, comparing it to a yellow one on another.
The folders in the wild blonde’s arms dropped to the ground, papers fluttering, as Misty reached out to catch a falling Cordelia. The Supreme yelped, hands grabbing onto Misty’s strong arms, fingers tight on her skin. She glanced down and back up into the swamp witch’s deep eyes as Misty helped her regain her balance, a hand at the dip in her back.
“I told ya not to trip. Ya okay?” Misty asked breathlessly, knees bent slightly to gaze into Cordelia’s face. The older woman nodded, throat dry.
“The papers, Misty.”
“Your ankle, it’s okay?”
“The papers, Mist.”
The necromancer frowned at the woman. “Fuck the papers. Can ya walk? Does it hurt?”
Cordelia laughed despite herself. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” She shook her head. “You can’t curse like that if we have nine year olds joining us.”
Misty nodded, agreeing silently. Cordelia gazed at her evenly, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Why are ya grinnin’?”
“You can let go now, Misty.”
Misty didn’t know how long they’d been standing there, her back against the cold bark of a dying tree, Cordelia flush against her, their lips connecting and parting and meeting again. The Supreme was moaning deliciously against her, her long fingers tangled in her wild hair and pulling her incredibly closer, not that there was much space left between them.
They’d walked to the swamps again, Cordelia silent and sporting a frown, obviously debating with herself, and Misty hadn’t known what was warring within her until they’d ventured farther into the forest and the Supreme had abruptly stopped.
“What is it?” Misty had asked.
“I care. About you.”
“I know, you’ve said it already. I haven’t forgotten. I wouldn’t.”
“I mean, I care, Mist.”
Cordelia had taken a few steps closer and traced the outline of Misty’s jaw with her thumb, and after giving the girl a pleading look, she’d leaned in and offered the ghost, the hint, of a kiss. She’d meant to pull away, but Misty had wrapped her arms around her the woman’s slim waist and pulled her right back in.
It was Cordelia who had backed her up against a tree, her dominance shining through.
Misty’s hands traveled up the Supreme’s back to rest at the base of her skull, tugging her closer, her tongue diving into Cordelia’s mouth. She tasted like mint toothpaste and Stevie Nicks lyrics. Cordelia’s blunt nails dug into the back of her shoulder blades now, through her shawl and heavy knit sweater. She raked her fingers down, hands ending at the dip in her back, arching the swamp witch into her touch.
“We should-” Cordelia kissed her deeply. “-get home.”
Misty groaned in agreement.
But they didn’t let go of each other. Not for what felt like hours to the both of them. Cordelia rested her forehead against Misty’s collarbones, breathing heavily, fingers wounded tight around the girl’s shawl. And as soon as it had begun, it was over.
“What are ya doin’?”
Cordelia grimaced at the swamp witch as she fiddled with the plants in front of her. “What do you mean?”
“Our walk. It’s past nine. Did ya forget?”
“I, I’m sorry, Mist. I didn’t feel like it tonight.” She looked away, dark eyes boucing around the greenhouse.
The necromancer stomped her foot. “No, Delia, ya don’t do this to me.”
The Supreme frowned. “Don’t do what, Misty.”
“Ya don’t shut yourself away. Ya knew this was inevitable and it ain’t because it happened that ya have to act any different.” The wild blonde snapped, stepping closer. She rounded the table as Cordelia looked away and trapped her against the corner before the Supreme could bolt. “It ain’t because it happened, that ya have to act any different.” She repeated forcefully.
“I’m glad you can live with your mistakes, Misty, but-”
The swamp witch frowned. “Mistakes? Delia, that wasn’t a mistake.”
“It was pure genius. Bravery at its finest. You’re like fuckin’ Tesla with his coils.”
“But, you, I-” Cordelia took a few deep breaths, her hand to her fluttering chest. “Weren’t you just friendzoning me?”
“What in the name of holy gator christ is a friendzone?”
“The girls use the term.” The older blonde shook her head, then looked back up at Misty, vulnerable. “You weren’t just telling me no?”
“What would make ya think I’d do somethin’ like that?”
“We don’t have to act any different. You said it yourself.”
“Oh darlin’.” Misty shook her head. “Ya mistook my meanin’. I meant,” She paused to look deep into Cordelia’s eyes, blue-green against black. “I meant that our relationship is perfect. Me lovin’ ya won’t change anything about it, because that’s how I want us to be around each other, ourselves. It’s not because we’re addin’ stolen kisses that we have to change our attitudes towards each other, yeah?”
“I’m makin’ sense then?”
Cordelia nodded again. She paused, nails digging into her palm. “I’m sorry.”
“Ya need to stop apologizin’.”
The Supreme opened her mouth to mutter a 'sorry’, but blushed and looked away.
“Are you ready?”
The swamp witch stood, brushing wet snow off the bottom of her skirt. "Of course. The bell tolls, and I rise.“
“I’m thinkin’ of writin’ poetry, there’s a lot of inspiration to be found in the swamp.” Misty admitted. “Ya like?”
Cordelia nodded, biting back a grin. “Yeah, I do.” She cocked her head to the side. “Would you say the swamp is your muse?”
“No.” The necromancer repeated. “Because ya are.”
Misty Day held out her hand for Cordelia to take as they walked down the road, and the Supreme took it graciously, interlocking her fingers easily with Misty’s.
Over the past twenty years I’ve been involved with a lot of cartoon series, with some just at the seed stages, on others over the course of entire runs and beyond. In every case, though, I’ve considered myself gratified and thankful to be traveling in the cartoon cosmos. –Fred Seibert
So, today at MICE I drew Jack Krak as Jughead for this guy collecting sketches of Jughead. Here he’s saying a variation of his killer line from “The Greatest Story ever Told”. As seen in SuperF*ckers episode 6: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJZ7TlJpgVY&sns=em