💀 weirdgirl zine 💜

hood up, shielding pale frail skin from the evil sun, the nerdy girl arrives at the park. her portable vampire lair contains croissants and blankets — a cozy date setup for her tryst with the big bad wolf. enter the wolf: hair like a stormy sunset, heart-shaped lips, built tough and wiry like jack skellington, voice a melodious whisper. he carries a well-loved bunny plushie, setting it down as he steps into her makeshift sacred sanctuary. magnetic energy crackles between the two supernatural beings. hood off, fangs subtly visible, she watches him with bright eyes and a dark sense of humor. they huddle close, sharing warmth and croissants over videos on his laptop. talk flows between them, laughter bubbles, fingers intertwine. the wolf leans in, breath warm against her skin. "i really wanna kiss you," he murmurs, "but i'll just blow on your face instead." her heart races. "it is tempting," she replies, smiling playfully. "it definitely is," he...

the year begins with january as my thoughts turn to the principle of impermanence — nothing is forever, even eternity. often january is a great month for purifying your space. traditionally, this month features a ritual cleansing, mirroring the shedding of the old year. i burn juniper and cedar incense, and meditate on my own protective spirits (yoda of course, and vaiva, and the hare archetype.) the hare's dual nature—harbinger of death and rebirth—highlights the cyclical nature of life. and of course yoda, to me at least, symbolizes might and power blended with humility and love. vaiva has been revered by my family since the ancient times, so she’s always fascinated me too. this month’s superstition: in fact, a dream of a white hare on the first night of january foretells a year of prosperity.

RABBIT RABBIT, GODDAMNIT! happy fucking new year, you miserable sacks of shit! phyllis, the fuzzy harbinger of doom, is here, and your resolutions are already toast. think "rabbit rabbit" is some cute little superstition? think again. forget it, and prepare for a month of pure, unadulterated misery courtesy of phyllis.  explosive diarrhea in public? check. wardrobe malfunctions requiring both priest and therapist? double check. a tax audit that'll leave you weeping in a puddle of your own fear piss and regret shit? triple goddamn check.   phyllis will turn your new year's eve into a night of explosive bodily functions and utter humiliation. this isn't a suggestion, you pathetic fucks—it's a command . say "rabbit rabbit" on the first, or face her wrath!