#but there's also witches and shifters and whole manner of other things if you want.

[eriny3s]

@stygicniron asked: forgive me ,  i didn’t know . @ meg?

the  young  prince  says  he  did  not  know  ,  and  megaera  has  to  refrain  from  dragging  her  hands  down  her  face  .  she  is  here  on  business  ,  not  pleasure  ,  and  it  is  the  sight  of  the  youngest  of  lord  hades'  children  that  has  her  remembering  why  she  often  stayed  away  and  communicated  via  letter  .  she  is  so  easily  frustrated  here  ,  wrenched  off  her  focus  points  like  an  unruly  kitten  by  scarred  hands  she  has  bitten  many  times  .  

hades  does  not  control  her  and  her  sisters  but  she  still  has  to  be  respectful  .  so  there  is  a  reason  alecto  came  with  her  ,  leaving  tisiphone  to  her  own  devices  elsewhere  in  the  capital  .  at  least  tisiphone  won't  get  into  too  much  trouble  .  

but  it  was  alecto's  CONFIDENCE  that  sparked  a  question  in  the  child  ,  asking  why  she  seemed  so  ...  at  home  ,  in  lord  hades'  estate  .  why  the  second  of  the  erinyes  did  not  bat  an  eye  ,  seemed  to  know  what  corridors  to  pay  attention  to  regardless  of  direction  from  the  servants  .  megaera  had  not  anticipated  him  to  be  so  observant  ,  and  alecto  had  taken  exception  to  the  question  ,  and  promptly  disappeared  in  a  supernatural  burst  of  speed  ,  nearly  teleporting  ahead  to  the  meeting  room  .  

megaera  had  remarked  that  young  nico  had  offended  the  second  fury  ,  and  thus  comes  the  apology  .  

if  only  it  were  that  simple  .  

❛  you  would  not  be  expected  to  know  ,  young  one  ,  ❜  she  murmurs  in  her  naturally  husky  voice  ,  golden  eyes  focused  down  upon  the  prince  of  the  estate  .  ❛  but  it  would  be  a  good  lesson  to  learn  .  if  you  have  such  suspicions  ,  bring  them  to  your  FATHER  —  not  the  suspicious  party  .  especially  not  one  much  ,  much  older  than  you  .  ❜

the  youth  of  today  —  it  is  always  something  .

[frankensteined]

i can’t do graphics, but i wanted to throw up some of my loosey-goosey character ideas that i’ve come up with so far anyways, in case anyone would like to plot some stuff in advance, or get an idea of what i’m working on ♥ (names are also loosey-goosey, if they clash with anyone else’s ideas!)

HENRY SAINT-GEORGE - idk exact age yet bc: Old - vampire

fc: idris elba

henry’s an old OC of mine that i’ve repurposed about six or seven times over the years (????). i made him back in...2015? 2016? and he used to be a werewolf, but i’m really digging the vampire ideas here so i’m trying something new with him! 

(also because immortal idris elba is the best idris elba, lbr)

his bloodline is TBA 

he doesn’t remember much about his life before he was sired, just that it wasn’t pleasant, and he doesn’t feel like it’s been much of a loss to put it behind him; that said, every now and again he’ll meet someone that he gets a sense of deja vu over, and he’ll assume they remind him of someone he knew way back when, and he’ll be begrudgingly invested in them

because he barely remembers his own origins, he’s taken it upon himself to try to remember all that he can about other people. this has served him pretty well over the years, both as an attentive and considerate ally, and as a ruthless and daunting adversary

he loves the written word, and has definitely, 100% written a whole slew of novels over the years under various pennames. and, yeah, absolutely has written some terrible supernatural romance novels over the decades. he’s not sorry about it :’)

huge dorky fan of museums and art galleries; he spends way too much money in the gift shops of every one he’s been to

manners are capital-i Important to him

as is honesty. don’t lie to him, he’ll take it personally.

can’t help his paternal ~vibes~, and has definitely sired some bby vamps before, so if you’re looking for a vampire dad: *finger guns* lemme know

lived in england for most of his life/existence, but headed over to salem for funsies after the revolt happened; liked it so much that he stayed!

idk what his official occupation is right now, but he’s definitely still writing, and has a shelf of a lot of the books he’s written under various pseudonyms

MAURA VAYNE - 37 - witch

fc: rebecca ferguson

she’s a new character i’m working on, so there’s a chance that some of these things will change, but i’ve got a pretty good grasp of her right now!

her witch type is also TBA

she’s a native of salem, and has been living her best life since the revolt

honestly, before, when she needed to hide her magic, she was quiet and reserved, and considered a bit of an eccentric oddball, but since then she’s broken out of her shell (like a selina kyle in batman returns kind of readjustment), and she’s now more assertive and playful (and a bit meddling, too, tbh)

owns an equally eccentric oddball shop that’s half antique store and half is pawn shop

used to be married/ in a long-term relationship, and is still sore about it falling apart, even though it’s been a while (so if anyone needs a literal witch of an ex-wife, lemme know!)

a huge supporter of vengeance; ironically, not in her own life, but she’s definitely that friend who encourages you to get revenge against someone that hurt you, bc You Deserve It!

loves games of all sorts: cards, chess, board games...even the dreaded Uno: Destroyer Of Friendships

loves coffee, but collects teapots *shrug*

definitely also has a collection of all sorts of like...traditional “witchy” things you’d find in a salem giftshop, or a spirit halloween store, because she has always found them amusing and endearing, in a misguided kinda way

could use a familiar? so, if anyone needs a witch for their shifter...!!

???? - ??? - ???!!

honestly, just knowing that i can have one more face claim reserve is Haunting me, so trust that i will eventually have a third character as well

i just have a mess of ideas and none of them are settled yet

so if anyone needs has any characters that they need, i’m also open to suggestions! i’m mostly interested in playing characters in their thirties and up, but could be nudged to playing someone in their late twenties if the plot is right! 

this is basically one big TBA space because i’m indecisive but love plotting: a deadly combination, tbh

if anybody would like to plot, or even just chat, feel free to shoot me a mesaage on here, or on discord: frankencourt#8865

@cihrp

[shyvioletcat]

in a rowaelin tolkein au, how would you cast the characters? would you just genderbend everything? how much do you think you would have to shift lotr's plot to make tog characters work? would aelin/rowan be frodo/sam? (i saw that you love tolkein and was thinking about this and wondering if you had thought about it at all lmao)

I’m just going to start with this is one of the best asks I’ve ever received so thank you so much for sending it in. This is how I would do it.

Dorian and Chaol are Frodo and Sam. Like you see how that works right? They eventually go off on their own adventure to destroy Erawan’s wyrdgate. Dorian has a ring which is like the final key to get it to work. I kinda want Gollum’s parallel to be Manon... Because we’ve got that distrust from Chaol/Sam there and the otherness, and Manon would be like one of Erawan’s captains/wing leader like we get in the books. At some point Chaol gets hurt and they split again etc etc. We get the Tower of Dawn spin off and it’s Dorian and Manon that head to Morath/Mordor.

But I digress, this is was a Rowaelin story 😏.

Aelin is Aragorn. Lost throne, forgotten heir, self sacrificing, comes out of nowhere to help the ringbearer. Perfect fit.

Now, how could Rowan not be Legolas? Moody, broody elf man who’s initially tagging along just because dad (or in this case Maeve who is basically Saruman) said so.

Now this is where my ideas get a little foggy when it comes to the rest of the fellowship because dynamics and story and stuff. But do have some thoughts.

I think Connall and Fenrys would be a good fit for Merry and Pippin. They seem like the obvious choice personality wise.

Lorcan would be Boromir. Feels like he’s got to do it out of obligation. Would rather take the ring to Maeve so she can sort it out. But then he finds out Maeve on the bad side... oh dear. Whatever shall he do now. Guess he’ll just have to stay with the Fellowship. Whoever shall he meet along the way 🤔.

Now. Gimli. I’m thinking Lysandra mainly just because I want to add her in. She’s got her shifter gifts so she’s real handy.

Ok. This ones gonna hurt a little. Gavriel is Gandalf. Now. I can’t decide if I want him to do the balrog thing or do the Boromir sacrifice. I’m leaning towards the Boromir thing but if I do the balrog thing I can bring him back and he can meet Aedion becauuusse...

Aedion is Faramir. He’s in Orynth/Minas Tirith running the show while Darrow slowly loses hope and his mind. Boy is he surprised when Aelin turns up.

And of course we can’t forget Elide. She’s Éowyn, trapped in Perranth/Edoras by Vernon who is very much the Grima role. I’m thinking her father is Theoden but because of the loss of Marion he’s very protective of Elide so we get her desire to fight but he won’t let her. But she of course does get in there in a Éowyn-esque manner. Also, definitely Elorcan going on there.

Now. Back to Rowaelin.

We definitely get the whole start of Heir of Fire hating each other thing but they of course eventually warm to each other. Their first real turning point would be around the Lothlorien point. So say Gavriel dies, Aelin is very upset and we get the comforting. Then we get the pinging/miscommunication/denial stuff from Lothlorien to Helms Deep. At the Helms Deep battle equivalent Aelin has a burnout and Rowan loses his mind and oh no, here come all the feelings. We definitely get a ‘to whatever end’ moment when she wakes up. Rowan also becomes her bloodsworn and promises to help do whatever he can to get her throne back. Then when she does they get married and have lots of babies and live happily ever after.

Other notes: Elena would fill in the Gandalf wise guide stuff with her appearances. I think Aelin’s big trial would be the Paths of the Dead which would be something similar to forging the lock to get the extra help. Maybe Galadriel and Celeborn are Mala and Brannon in their lesser forms. Maybe the witches are the Ents? They’re hiding out in the forest and Connall and Fenrys find them (a little FenrysxAsterin anybody?). Whitethorns are definitely running the show in Mirkwood, possibly rebels against Maeve.

I think that’s all I got at the moment. Thank you so much for sending this in.

[emiwrites3reads]

Hybrid, chapter one

Seris Summary: Reader is part shapeshifter part which, she runs away from her cultist family before they try to sacrifice her familiar, Whisper to some deity she never bothered to learn the name of. She no longer wants to be part of that life. Doing so, she finds herself looking for a job. Her last resort is Lux, a night club that was all the way at the bottom her job list.

Warnings: cult stuff mentioned, sacrificing mentioned.

Characters: in the tags

Chapter summary: applies for a job at Lux, before she even starts the job she runs into some trouble with her past.

(Cat for reference)

______________________________________________________________________

“Whisper! Even McDonalds denied my request” you say looking to her grey tabby familiar. The feline chuckles and puts his paw on the next job on your list. You let out a stiff sigh and look to your cat. He looks amused. “Really? I guess your right, it’s my only option”

You grab your stuff and slip on your favorite band t-shirt. You check to make sure you look semi-decent and fix your hair. You doubt you’ll need to look that fancy for this night club. The people there might not even wear clothes half the time.

“Let’s head out” Your cat turns into mist and manifests into a tattoo of a cat paw on your wrist. It glows your favorite color and then stops, turning to a solid black. You do this every time you leave to a non-pet friendly place. Other times you grab a harness and leash.

It’s not uncomfortable in there. Whisper is basically on a floating island. He tells you its a forest with a meadow and it’s pretty big. You two can still communicate through telepathy like this.

~~~

Your uber drops you off at the night club. The music is shut off and so are the lights as it is the afternoon. There is still a security guard at the front. You walk up to the place, studying it’s glorying. The large sign must look so divine at night.

“Hi sir, may I go in to ask about a job position?” The officer speaks into his walkie-talki and gives you a nod. He opens the door and you step inside. You’ve never seen such a night club. There is a grand piano in the middle, comfy booths, and a big dancing area. Your eyes land at a bar where a fairly attractive man and woman sit awaiting you.

Maybe they are both prostitutes as well, Whisper says in your mind. You ignore him and walk up to the two.

“Hi, I’m Ms. Black, I’m interested to see if you have any job positions,” You say as well-mannered as you can.

“Depends, what positions can you do?” The woman says with a smirk. You almost choke on air.

“Uhh, what?” You simply reply.

“This is a nightclub sweetheart, we don’t have many waitress positions opens, plus guys still want to get in your bed” He says. This is not how you expected it to go. You nod and start walking out. You start going up the stairs when Whisper pops in your mind.

Don’t give up, go back and tell them, not ask

“Umm actually, are you sure there isn’t anything else opened?” You turn. Whisper is right, you can’t just give up. The two study you and take glances at each other as if they are speaking as you do with Whisper. The man then turns to you and smiles.

“I’ll open one up for you, how about… bartender?” He grins. You gladly except.

~~~

You put on one of the most revealing things you ever wore. A crop top and booty shorts. Both black. You don’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. You turn to see Whisper looks with the biggest and most humanly grin a cat has ever done. “I need the money… “You say to yourself. You pull out your phone and call an Uber.

When you get there, it is 8 pm. Your boss, whose name you found out was Lucifer is waiting for you. This time with a girl with blonde hair and doesn’t look like a hooker. A detective.

“Detective Decker wants to ask you some questions” Neither you or Whisper are happy about this. You follow the woman over to a table, incredibly self-conscience of how you look.

“Where were you Tuesday night, 5:00 am?” She says clearing her throat. Whisper seems very silent.

“Sleeping, I didn’t get up till 11:00 am that day, I stayed up till 3:00 am that night” You answer. What are you being accused of?

“Do you know a Tommy marshall?” She pulls out a picture of a man. It’s a boy maybe your age, 20’s. He has curly brown hair and blue eyes. You study him. You’ve never seen him before.

“No” You simply state.

“Were you ever involved in any ritualistic activities” By this time, Lucifer is right above her shoulder. You freeze, unsure of what to say.

Just tell the truth, Whisper says.

“Yes…. but I left that, my parents…. Were umm-- they liked that sort of thing,” You say, very uncomfortable. Lucifer’s curious eyes fall on you. This pecked his interest, he was just bored of it before.

Do you think they did it? Whisper says.

“Do you know who did it…. The poor boy… I- I hope you find who did this, I’ll help in any way I can” You say. Decker looks to Lucifer. She knows something else.

“Your DNA was found at the scene” You stare, shocked. You know who did this. The only thing that could is magic. Your parents. They could alter the scene using magic and replace any DNA. At least if you need to go on the run, it’s fairly easy. But you don’t exactly want to spend the time 100 years as a wolf.

“How?” You say, you can tell Lucifer sees right through you. This is the last thing you need. You have to keep cover. If a mortal finds out witches exist, not only your parents would be after you, but the whole council.

“You know how this goes, stay in the state” She says and starts walking away. You get up, standing while unsure of what to do with yourself.

“You know how your DNA was there don’t you?” His tone scares you. He thinks you killed that boy. You have no motive, but rituals can be just as fitting. You bite you tounge.

“I didn’t do it if that's what your thinking, it has to be my parents, at least my mom,” You say. Your dad, biological dad is a shifter, who also is dead. The dad now could care less for you.

“Why would she do this? Hm?” He says. His eyes have a slight shade of red. They would scare any mortal. But your not one. “What is it you desire?” He adds.

You hear a high pitched ring. You ignore it the best you can. You look at Lucifer who looks baffled upon imagination. He seems to try to get a closer look. “How are you not affected? What are you?”

“Human” He sees through that lie.

“My family are all witches, that’s how my DNA is there, they did a spell” You sigh. It’s your only choice. He would have killed you if you didn’t tell him. You still have to kill the hybrid part a secret. You're not supposed to exist, with your dad being a alpha shifter and all.

“A which? Now that's enticing! You have a familiar still I bet? That’s why you ran, I knew I recognized your last name!” He says spinning around in circles. Your family has a reputation. They don’t think you should depend on a familiar so they sacrifice them.

“And i’ll have to be on the run if my parents don’t get caught….” You say. Something sparkles in his eyes.

“Want to make a deal?” He smirks. The more and more you talk, the more you think he’s the actual devil. You shake your head, you don’t want to fall into this trap. Who knows what he might have you do and you don’t want to get into any more trouble, you also don’t think you should go with this job.

Get out of there, there is an angel on his way from the silver city who won’t take too kindly to you.

“I have to go” You start to rush up but he grabs your arm. You hear the flapping of wings and see a dark-skinned man behind Lucifer. He doesn’t look happy but Lucifer looks thrilled.

“Ahh brother” While he was distracted you took that chance and run. Lucifer turns and tries to go after you but you turn a corner and run down an alley where you turn into a rat, which is extremely painful. Turning into small animals hurt, or new ones, and when you turn to fast into an animal you haven’t been before. Luckily, he didn’t see you. And since your in a animal form, he probably thought you did some spell to disappear.

You hate being rodents. At least the ones like mice, rats, and moles. They feel so disgusting and you hate the instincts that come with them. So you turn into a hawk once Lucifer left.

You fly to your house but don’t go inside as there are police going in and out. They must have gotten a warrant. They aren’t going to find anything. At least you hope. You land somewhere on the ground far away and turn into a cat that looks like Whisper. You need to see whats going on. You walk out of the trees around you and greet an officer by rubbing against his pants. “Dan, leave the cat be” You see Decker come over. She picks you up and carries you into the house.

“Lucifer, I think this is the pet you were talking about her having” Crap, you try to scramble out, especially since you see the angel from before looking at you with daggers. You barely manage to move an inch.

“How did you know she had one?” Dan says, coming from behind. You whisper sorry and use your claws to get out but she still doesn’t let go. You don’t dare bite her though. You don’t want to end up in a lab.

“She told me about him, wonder if it has any evidence on it?” You glare at the two angels. You bite Decker and she lets you go in a fit of pain. You run but Lucifer’s angel friend picks you up. He has a much stronger grip. He also isn’t nice about it. Ohhh he is going to be having a bear after him someday.

“Should we crate it?” The dark angel says. You hiss and try to move. But his grip threatens to break your ribs. You're already going to be sore from all the shifting in the morning if you can escape then.

“It doesn’t look to have any evidence on it, but we can use it to bring her in if she’s as close to it as you said it was” Oh no. You really need to get away. You take the risk and bite the angel, which does nothing. You bite again, with more force and taste some blood. He drops you in shock, one that you actually share in the fact you made him bleed. You race into the woods and turn human and release Whisper. He knows what to do. He walks around some as you go off into the woods. You don’t think you can turn anymore, you could risk breaking some limbs.

~~~

The next morning once you get back you get a call. You are relieved. Witches get worried if their familiar isn’t around for a while and their magic can act up, that is if they are alive. “Yes?” You say, you don’t need to fake the worry.

“If you want your cat, we need you to come in, doesn’t look good that you disappeared yesterday” Decker was on the other side. You didn’t waste anytime. You took some ibuprofen, even though they barely work for your shifting pain. You race out the door and call an Uber. It comes in 10 min and takes 45 min to get to the LAPD.

You walk in and Lucifer walks you to the questioning room. The new captain, pierce is there along with Decker. They don’t look to happy. There seems to be something going on between them.

Decker is quick to start. She asks the same questions, gets the same response. Then Pierce comes in and asks the same, making sure I don’t change up my story. Since I didn’t, they are discussing my fate outside. I know if I’m desperate enough and they try to aresst me, I’ll turn into a fly or something right in front of them, and let me tell you, insects hurt a lot.

“Amenadiel walks to speak to her” I hear as the door opens. It’s Lucifer and the angel from before, who I now know is Amenadiel. They turn the camera off and walk over to you. Lucifer is carrying the crate Whisper is. He doesn’t look happy, you’d make it up to him by going on a hunt with him.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right here and right now” Amenadiel says.

“Cause it’s illegal and your surrounded by cops?” You say sitting back, crossing your arms. Your still a little afraid of him, but since he doesn’t seem to have silver on him you should be fine.

“You think I care? I can stop time” He says. Lucifer leans against the wall, wondering what you’ll do. You simply shrug.

“Can I have my cat back now?” You say with annoyance in your voice. It’s the best way to hide your fear. He already wants to kill you and you barely know each other.

“I didn’t know the Blacks had a daughter, we would of slaughtered you as soon as your were born!” He says. You chuckle, no one was supposed to know. If they did, everything would be after you.

“An angel would kill a baby?” You say as menacing as you can. Angels didn’t use to scare you. But when one nearly killed your mom, who always scares you, that changed. Of course you were kinda hoping the angel finished her off. You were hiding then so they couldn’t see you.

“No, I’d kill a witch,”He growls through his teeth. He turned to Lucifer who if he had popcorn, would be eating it. He looks so entertained. You hope Lucifer doesn’t hate your guts.

“Fare enough” You get up and take the crate from Lucifer who looks stunned. You open it up and a angry Whisper jumps out. You pick him up and walk out. Decker looks in and sees Amenadiel. She looks even less happy. She walks in past you and goes in, slamming the door. None of the cops gave you any trouble.

[bamby0304]

Freaky Friday

Summary: Sam wakes up in a bed he didn’t fall asleep in… in a body that isn’t his. When he finds his own body asleep in the Bunker library he also finds you occupy the body, confusion ensues. Dean can’t stop laugh, you can’t stop freaking out, and despite everything Sam is- once again- the only person who can keep their head on… well, your head on… his head on? Jeez this is confusing.

Pairing: reader!Sam x Sam!Reader

A/N: This is for @squirrel-moose-winchester​’s Supernatural Crack Attack Challenge!! I picked the prompt Curses/Spells/Potions. After talking it out with Squirrel, she’s letting me use each of the three things in the prompt in three different fics. For this one, I’m using Curses, and a second loophole which lets me use another prompt without taking it… body swap!!

Warnings: Explicit language. An attempt at crack. Body swap, obviously. Fluff? The slightest bit of angst? Implied smut.

Bamby

Sam had fallen asleep at one of the Bunker library tables… not in a warm and comfortable bed. Sam had fallen asleep in a loose long sleeve grey shirt and a pair of green and blue flannel pyjama bottoms… not a pair of pale purple silk shorts and a white cotton button up pyjama shirt. Sam had fallen asleep in his body… not yours.

What the hell?

Shooting out of bed, Sam hurried out of the bedroom he’d quickly realised was yours and rushed towards the library. Sure enough, his body was exactly where he’d left it when he’d fallen asleep researching last night. Only he wasn’t in his body, he was in yours, which meant you were- hopefully- in his.

If you weren’t in his then he had no idea who was or where you were. Maybe Dean would be in his body and you’d be in Dean’s, but he was kind of hoping you wouldn’t have to live in his brother’s body considering what Dean does with it. Although, he wasn’t too pleased at the thought of you being in his either.

Heading towards his sleeping body, Sam prayed to whoever or whatever was listening that he was about to find you and not his brother or some stranger. Then, with a deep breath, he reached forward and shook his shoulder.

“Y/N?” Sam flinched at the sound of his words coming out in a voice nothing like his own.

The body groaned, head rolling against the book it was resting on to look away from you. “Go away. Sleeping,” it grumbled in a voice Sam slightly recognised as his own, only it seemed a little higher than normal.

Sighing, not having the time for this, Sam reached forward once more. “Y/N?” he repeated, this time a little harsher with a rougher shove.

“Argh!” The body quickly sat up and turned to glare at Sam before it’s face turned to complete shock... and then they were moving. “What are you?!” they asked as they pushed themselves up, raising their hands to defend themselves. “You a shifter? ‘Cause you picked the wrong girl to copy, asshole!”

It was obvious it was you in Sam’s body, and before he could tell you this it seemed you realised the same thing.

Lifting a hand to your throat- which was actually Sam’s- your eyes went wide as you dropped back down into the chair. “Holy shit. I’m you. You’re me. We’re… we… what the fuck happened?”

“Sammy, you mind keeping it down?” Dean groaned as he walked into the library dressed in one of the old Men of Letters memeber’s robes with a coffee in hand.

Sam looked his brother up and down, wondering if it really was his brother he was looking up and down. It sounded like him, words, voice, mannerisms. It looked like him, body, movement, behaviour. But was it him?

“Dean?” Sam asked, still flinching at the sound of the soft voice following his words.

Pausing on his way to one of the library table chairs, Dean looked to your body not realising it was his brother he was looking at. Despite being a grump in the morning Dean perked up at the sight of you. “Nice pyjamas Y/N.”

Instinctively, Sam reached down to tug at the shirt he’d woken up in, trying to cover your body as Dean’s eyes lingered a little more. “I’m not Y/N.”

“I’m Y/N,” you noted in Sam’s voice.

Frozen on the spot, Dean’s grin vanished as he looked between the two of you. “Wait, so… you’re Sam,” he gestured to Sam in your body, “and you’re Y/N?” He gestured to you in his brother’s body.

Both you and Sam nodded in each other’s bodies.

Dean, unable to control himself, burst into laughter.

Sam huffed, not finding his brother’s reaction very helpful. “It’s not funny, Dean. Aren’t you worried? What if this is just the beginning? What if this is the start of some witch’s plan to kill us? You hate witches.”

Yet Dean didn’t stop. In fact, he continued to laugh so hard he had to put his coffee down on the table so he wouldn’t drop it.

“It’s not funny, Dean!” you snapped, pouting. Only, it was Sam’s face that was pouting, which looked absolutely ridiculous and only encouraged Dean’s laughter.

Rolling his eyes- which were actually yours- Sam turned away from his brother to look to you. “This is either a spell or a curse. It’s definitely witches, so I’m going to call Rowena and see what she knows, you should start looking up whatever we have on body swapping.”

As Dean continued to laugh, now sitting in one of the seats unable to keep himself standing due to his heavy laughter, you and Sam got to work.

It was hard and weird at first. Sam wasn’t used to his feet reaching the ground so suddenly, and you weren’t used to moving about with such long legs. His hands were usually bigger and could hold more, while yours were usually daintier and softer. Talking to Rowena on the phone had been a challenge for Sam, and getting comfortable while researching had been difficult for you

Both of you were shocked by each other’s strength. Sam realised you had to work harder than he thought in order to keep up with himself and Dean. You’d always assumed Sam was strong, but now that you were in his body you quickly figured out he held back quite a bit.

The whole experience was odd, and would have been fascinating… if you weren’t so freaked.

None of the research in the Men of Letters Bunker was useful. The talk with Rowena had only led to her insisting she come over to check on you both. Apparently you could be dealing with at least a dozen things, most of which would not end good.

Out of all the terrible things she’d told Sam and he’d repeated to you and Dean, the soul-swapping curse seemed the worst. It was used to literally swap souls. The souls would swap vessels and remain in their new homes until either the bodies and souls adjusted to the change and melded together… or the forced swap literally made the bodies and souls implode.

Dean had quickly sobered up and stopped laughing as soon as he realised his brother and best friend’s lives were potentially on the line. Or maybe he sobered up because you couldn’t stop freaking out all his laughing was just making it worse for you. The guy could be a dick at time, but he knew when to quit it.

Rowena looked from you to Sam and back. Her eyes glowed purple as she used her magic to scan you like some kind of witch x-ray or something… at least that’s how Dean had put it when she’d explained what she had to do.

“So, are we going to die?” you asked, no longer surprised to hear Sam’s voice saying your words.

Blinking, Rowena’s eyes turned to normal as her lips turned up into a smile. “No.”

You and Sam let out a relieved sigh, bodies visibly relaxing with the reassurance.

Dean shifted in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees as he watched the witch carefully. “You know what’s wrong with them?”

“It’s a simple curse. Probably put on the two of you by accident. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the witch explained.

Sam moved to stand next to her, his impatience less intimidating on your face. “What is it, Rowena?”

“A connection curse. It’s not meant for harm but to make two people closer. It only works on couples whose souls are bonded… soulmates.” She turned to him- to your body- with a raised eyebrow and a grin. “The only way to break it is to connect.”

“Connect?” you and Sam asked at the same time.

“Yes. You know… connect like soulmates do.” She gave each of you a pointed look, waiting for you to catch on.

When you and Sam simply stood there, not getting it, looks of confusion plastered on your faces, Dean suddenly burst into laughter once more.

“Oh, God! This is fucking priceless.” He clutched at his stomach.

“How in the world is this priceless?” Sam asked, using your body to glare at his brother as he folded your arms over your chest.

Gesturing to you and Sam, Dean tried to calm himself as he explained, “The two of you have been pining over each other since forever.” He had to stop as more laughter slipped from his lips before he could continue, “And now you’re stuck like this until you connect. As in… have sex.”

Sam paled, your eyes went wide.

Rowena chuckled lightly. “He’s not wrong.”

“We have to have sex?” you asked, glancing over at Sam as he stood a few feet away in your body before your eyes returned to the witch. “You can’t just wave a magic wand and fix this?”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes, slightly annoyed. “If it was that easy don’t you think I’d be doing that by now?”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re enjoying this,” Sam accused. “Someone had to put the curse on us, and your the only witch we know that would do something like this. All the others just want us dead.”

She gave a short nod. “True.”

Looking between the both of you, Rowena quickly realised neither of you would be comfortable ‘connecting’ in each other’s bodies, which meant you’d be stuck if she didn’t help you. It wouldn’t be easy, not like waving a magic wand, but there could be a way for her to help.

“Fine. I think I might now a counter spell,” she sighed, giving in despite her doubts that it would work. But helping the two of you was better than watching you squirm.

An hour or so later, after Rowena had pulled a potion together and found the right spell, the curse was broken and you and Sam were back in your correct bodies.

You smiled widely, hands happily and eagerly patting yourself all over. “Oh! Oh, yes! It is good to be me!”

Dean watched, chuckling lightly. “You need a room?”

“I’ll be getting to that later,” you assured him.

Sam scoffed lightly, amused at your bluntness. He only gave it a moment’s attention before he looked down at his own body to make sure everything was in place and in order.

Packing her things away, Rowena glanced at you and Sam. “You two do realise what this all means, yes?” she asked expectantly, eyes flickering from you to Sam and then back.

You paused a moment before shrugging. “That whoever cursed us had the maturity of a teenager?”

Glancing over at his brother, Sam didn’t miss the way Dean shifted ever so slightly at your comment. He had no doubt his brother was the cause for all of this. For years Dean had been teasing Sam about his crush on you, and now he could only assume he’d done the same to you. It seemed that after all that time, after trying to push you two together for so long, he’d finally given up and decided to take measures into his own hands.

I’m gonna kill him.

“Well, yes that. But do you know what else it means?” Rowena pressed, hoping you and Sam could put the pieces together.

“That we owe you?” you answered with a question of your own, not really getting what the witch was going on about.

Rolling her eyes, giving up, Rowena shook her head and lifted her bag off the table. “Yes, that’s what it means.” Sighing, she started for the stairs that lead to the Bunker’s exit.

As you followed the witch, Sam shot Dean a glare that let the older Winchester know he was busted. Not wanting to catch the full force of Sam’s anger, Dean called a quick goodbye before running to his room with his metaphorical tail between his legs.

You and Sam showed Rowena out, waiting until the door closed behind her before you both headed back down to the library. “Where did Dean go?” you asked as you took a seat in the chair you’d woken up in when in Sam’s body.

Shrugging, Sam took a seat next to you, reaching for the bottle of whiskey and two of the three glasses that sat on the table. “I don’t know. I’ll go look for him later.”

“Why? So you can kill him?” You turned to give Sam a knowing grin.

He paused, taking in the look in your eyes. “You know.”

“I knew the moment he didn’t freak that we’d swapped bodies,” you noted, taking the bottle of whiskey from him to pour the two of you a drink each. “I also knew what the curse was. Took awhile to get passed all the porn, but I eventually found the curse stuff in his browser history.”

Watching you take a sip from your drink, Sam frowned, “If you knew what the curse was, you knew how to break it… why didn’t you say something?”

“Oh, hey, Sam. So this thing happening between us is because your idiot brother decided to curse us ‘cause he thinks we’re soulmates. Turns out he’s right, and turns out the only way to end the curse is to have sex with each other… in each other’s bodies. I’ll get the condom, you throw on a nice pair of panties.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled lightly, realising your point. The two of you liked each other, and you were obviously soulmates… but going from not sharing a kiss to having sex with each other while in each other’s bodies was a step too far.

“Your brothers an idiot,” you noted as you took another sip from your drink.

Nodding, Sam raised his own glass to his lips. “That’s one thing we can agree on,” he sighed before taking a drink.

“Still… I’m kinda glad.” When Sam looked at you confused, you shrugged. “If it wasn’t for your idiot brother I wouldn’t know how you feel about me. You wouldn’t know how I feel about you. We wouldn’t know it’s not for nothing. Which gives you every right to fuck me on this table, right here and now.”

Almost choking on his drink, Sam quickly put his glass on the table as he forced himself to swallow before he started to cough. “What?”

You reached over to put your own glass down onto the table. “I was stuck in your body for the entire day, Sam. I know what it feels like to move in it…” you grinned, “now I wanna know what it feels like when it moves in me.”

Sam’s eyes wandered over you as he recalled how it felt to be in your body without being in you the way he wanted to be. But still, he had some reservations. “What about Dean? He could walk in any second.”

“If your brother knows what’s best, he’ll hide out in his room for the next few hours. But considering he’s an idiot… if he does walk out then it’s his own fault.” You shrugged. “He’s the one that cursed us.”

“Good point.”

That’s all that was said before Sam was standing up and lifting you out of your chair. You were placed on the table as he set himself between your open legs, hands and fingers eagerly and greedily plucking at clothes. A whole day spent in each other’s bodies had built your pre existing feelings and unresolved sexual tension to breaking point… and you two were finally ready to break.

Bamby

[maloventomalocore-blog]

Mysteries of Beast, Blood and Bone

20-26 minuti

Crow skulls, bones, and foot

© 2013 Sarah Anne Lawless – Originally printed in Serpent Songs: An Anthology of Traditional Craft curated by Nicholaj de Mattos Frisvold and published by Scarlet Imprint. Do not copy or use any portion of this text or its images without the express permission of the author, but sharing the link is very welcome.

skulls line the windowsills. Skulls float in jars on top of cupboards. Bones boil in pots on the stove, the flesh melting away. Hidden among the drying herbs and roots there are hearts and tongues and eyes. It is not Baba Yaga’s hut I describe, but my kitchen. Bone collector, bone washer, animal necromancer, deathwalker, shapeshifter, poisoner, witch… these are the words people whisper of me and my practices. Some whisper with fear and others with desire. I am an animist, a folk magician, and a rootworker. It is not just herbs I work with in my folk magic, but also skulls and bones, hearts and tongues. I practice the lost art of working with beast, blood, and bone in order to rebirth the ancient nature of Witch as a wild and primal creature; surrounded by spirits, anointed with blood, dressed in hides, and adorned with talismans of bone, tooth, and claw.

The magic of beasts is sympathetic magic, fetiche magic, and death magic, but it is also sensual magic. It is the feel of the Saturn finger dipped in warm blood, of softest fur on barest skin, of sharpest tooth and talon biting in, of a raw heart on the tongue, and the scent of decay deep in the lungs. It is the rendered fat of a flying ointment like smooth silk across the brow, and it is the tactile, dirty, grounding sorcery of the here and now. It is an amoral, carnal, fleshly, and sensory feast of visceral magic combining the sacred and the profane. The magic of beasts belongs to the wild sorcerers who are part human, part spirit, and part animal; the ones who dance the knife’s edge between the worlds of life and death, the incarnate and disincarnate.

It is only practical to work with the animals and spirits who share the land where I live, for they have a closer relationship with me than any romanticized exotic animals across the sea. On my altar you will find the spirits of the Pacific Northwest: Orca, Salmon, Black Bear, Black Wolf, Mountain Lion, Mountain Goat, White-Tailed Deer, and wings of the birds who haunt our skies and the tree tops of Hemlock and Red Cedar. Old Woman and Old Man of the Woods whispered to me their names in dreams and one by one the beasts came to me. On my altar are their antlers, horns, bones, skulls, teeth, hides and feathers. The ones I did not find myself ended up in my care through bone collectors, shamans, and hunters.

It is important to state that I do not kill the creatures who come to me; instead, they are brought to me after death by conservation officers, hunters, taxidermists, and from friends as road kill. This is my choice and yet in the future I hope to go with my animist friends who hunt in a sacred manner and help them skin and butcher and then take of the bones and flesh they will not eat or use. When I receive dead beasts, plastic is rolled across the table, knives laid out, and gloves and a mask are worn. The still bodies are smudged with fragrant herbs, anointed with holy water, and blessings of cleansing and release are whispered over them. The bodies may be still but their spirits are not. Sometimes it isn’t enough and the animal’s spirit must be bargained with; some demanding to be buried whole with nothing taken, some who will only give up a few parts for sacred work and no more, and some who demand an offering or a working before you may proceed. It is best to respect their remains and their demands for they can curse you better than any witch if you anger them. Folly alone will lead you to curse yourself: butchery and preservation require training as dead animals carry disease, bacteria, parasites, and legal issues –it is not something to walk into blindly.

Crow Claw TalismansThis path is not for everyone; it is not for the weak of stomach or for those who think it is immoral. I grew up with hunters and fishers. I’ve lived by the sea, I’ve lived on a farm raising livestock, and I’ve lived deep in the wildest forests. I was once a professional butcher and cook. It is how I can do what I do. Why follow this path? It should compel you and feed your soul in some way. What is the reward of such bloody work? It is simple, if you want to be a shape-shifter and a walker between worlds, if you want to learn the tongues of beasts, if you want to align yourself more closely than you could ever believe with your animal familiars and the genius loci, then you will also need to work closely with death, blood, and bone. Our ancestors were not soft or squeamish and we must not white-wash their memory by imagining they didn’t kill the deer used to make their ceremonial costume, the raven for their feathered headdress and cloak, or the bear for its hide to craft their drums and rattles. We must approach our Mighty Dead in full knowledge they killed the swans buried in their sacrificial pits, they killed the mare buried beneath the feasting hall, and they killed the hornless bull for its hide to wrap around their seer so he may dream of invaders’ ships. Long have we as the human race worked with animals, their deaths, and their spirits in our rites and ceremonies. Long will our descendants do so after we are dead.

Death will show you a side of your character as yet unknown and your reaction will either gladden you or horrify you. We are so far removed from death in our modern, sterile, clinical world that it is more important than ever as spirit workers to reconnect ourselves and others with death, blood, and bone. I work with death so I can be close to it. Being close to death reminds me I too am a spirit, walking around in a suit of flesh which I may come and go from as I please. When you are close to death you are close to spirits and more easily able to see and commune with them. When you are close to spirits, you are closer to the other worlds where they reside and therefore more easily able to transverse them.

FORMULARY OF THE BEAST

I share my ancestors’ belief in sympathetic magic and, when I wish to work more closely with an animal spirit, I need to also work with its remains whether it is a claw, its hide, or its whole skeleton. To practice this magic one must be able to seek out death; for bone collectors and necromancers can sense bones and remains when they pass nearby, be it in the forest or the flea market.

You are what you eat. Sympathetic magic takes this common phrase to a deeper level. To acquire the keen hearing, quick reflexes, and agility of a deer, one would eat venison. To acquire keen eyesight or the ability to fly like a bird, crossing between the other worlds, one would eat poultry. Our ancestor believed to eat a thing is to absorb its powers, spirit, and knowledge into yourself to making you more powerful or wise. To kill a thing is to take its spirit. Hunters of old would usually let the spirit go and return the bones of a fish to the river it was caught and the bones of a deer to the forest of its death as a sign of respect so the creature could be reborn again and eaten again.

Not every animal was let go. Some animals were hunted solely for their spirits: for their hides, their bones, for their claws and teeth, for their power, and for their help as an ally, totem, or familiar. Such spirits are asked to willingly offer themselves and stay with you until it is your turn to die. Our ancestors asked permission, not merely of the animal spirits themselves, but of the ruling genius loci, before they hunted or harvested as is evidenced in the hunter’s invocations in the Kalevala, ancient Latin spells petitioning Artemis, and oral Scottish tales of disrespectful hunters being found dead, killed by a wild shape-shifting crone.

When you bring home any part of an animal with the intention of enlivening it as a fetiche, keep in mind that like any living creature you would have be your pet, you must also be responsible for any spirit you take home – you must accept its wildness and instincts, sate its hunger and thirst, clean it when it becomes soiled, and give it of your love, your energy and your time. The respect, reverence, and care you give a familiar spirit and the fetiche it inhabits is what you will gain in return.

Each part of an animal can be used as a fetiche, a spirit house, a ritual tool, and as a spell ingredient. As a bone collector I save the bones, but as a witch I save the blood, eyes, fats, feet, hearts, skins, teeth, and tongues as well.

He layeth corpses at my feet;

not dead slain by warrior’s hand

or creatures fit to eat,

but brings me tongue and heart,

skull and bone, tooth and eye

– all to work my grisly witch’s art.

Owl Skull

Fresh bones wet and greasy with fat and blood, smooth white bones stained with earth, dry rough bones eroded by wind and water… no matter their condition the bones and skulls of a dead animal connect us directly with the creature’s spirit and the spirits of all their kind, living and dead. Collect the bones and skulls of animal familiars to ease communion and interaction with them. Gather the bones of animals each from the realms of land, sea, and sky if you wish to better transverse between the worlds and shift between shapes. Become an osteomancer by throwing the bones to divine secrets, foreknowledge, and the keys to your questions. Carve and paint the bones with runes and sigils. Become a charmer and wear a baculum for fertility, virility, sexual prowess, and protection.

The empty eye sockets of skulls watch and guard, apotropaic and undead they never tire of their duty. Hang the skulls of sharp-toothed predators over garden gates and chicken coops to keep out unwanted beasts. Hang them over your own door to keep out unwanted spirits and energies and let them be your fanged bouncers, your hunting hounds. Hang the skulls of horned beasts above a stable, outbuilding, or gate for protection and also to ensure the health and fertility of any livestock or wild game on your land.

The skull is where awareness and the senses dwell. Skulls are the most suited part of a skeleton for a spirit house. Magically cleanse your skull in a ceremony and ask if its spirit wants to continue to dwell in it or if another beast of its kind wishes to volunteer. I prefer the spirit the skull once housed as the connection between the two is much stronger. Consecrate the skull to its purpose as spirit vessel and a tie for that spirit to our middle world. To summon and work with the spirit you can chant:

Black is the colour of womb and tomb;

we meet at night on the dark of the moon.

White is the colour of bone and ash;

to speak to the dead we bathe and fast.

Red is the colour of blood and death;

we rub the bones and give them breath.

Clean the fetiche and leave its spirit offerings on a regular basis for the rest of your life until you pass it on to another or you die. If you must, you can desecrate a spirit vessel in ceremony and release the spirit from the bone.

Blood is a sacrifice that feeds the hungry spirits and the insatiable earth. Blood ties us to life and death for we are born in blood and we die when our blood flows through the earth instead of our veins. Blood is holy water, life force, heat, and metal. The spirit dwells in the blood and when you drink of it you are possessed by it, bound to it, and it to you. The earth hungers for blood; the ancient battlefields long to be soaked in red, the mountains cry out for human sacrifice, and the herb garden hungers for dead crows. How they flourish when painted red, how green and juicy the plants grow when fed off of the blood of mortals and beasts alike. The whole of nature feeds off of death and decay. Leave out offerings of blood or raw meat to the genius loci, to the plants, to the black earth, and see how greedily the spirits claw and bite and devour it. The hungry earth is the easiest way to clean bones. Bone collectors learn to feed their gardens the unwanted flesh of their work so only pure osseous matter is left.

Blood will tie you to living beasts, it will cleanse you like holy water, protect you like an amulet, and lend you increased power and life force for your ceremonies. Blood can heal – trading a life for a life, sickliness for health. Blood can bring you closer to death and your ancestors. Blood can curse too; spilled and spat upon, a life taken in an enemy’s name.

“Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of a Christian man,” says the giant. “I smell Russian blood,” says Baba Yaga. The spirits can smell our blood and by it know that we are human. They will want to drink your blood like the hungry earth for not all spirits are amicable towards us mortals. Animal blood will distract them from your scent and feed their hunger… for the moment. Blood spilled on feather down seems to be a favourite. Is it not why we bathe in cold spring waters, rub and smudge ourselves with fragrant herbs, and adorn ourselves in animal hides? We disguise ourselves as forest creatures to safely travel in and out of the territories of dangerous spirits..

Claws click, dig, and bite deep, shedding blood. Sharp claws and talons have long been worn as protective amulets – wear them about your neck to prevent attacks from the familiar spirits of other magicians and to chase away the evil eye like an owl hunts down a mouse with its eyes upon a corn field. In a trance straddling the worlds shamans use a sharp-clawed bird foot to tear illnesses or elf darts out of a patient’s body, to chase away the evil eye, to shield and protect, or to send forth biting curses to rend apart a rival or enemy. Keep the feet, toes, and nails to walk in a beast’s footsteps and wear them about your neck for rites of shape-shifting.

Arthritic Crow Foot

Save the eyes to see the unseen, to have visions, and dream dreams. Preserve them and keep them to see like the animal and better shift your shape into feather, fur, or silver skin. Eyes to spy: wear them around your neck or place them under you head to see through the eyes of their living kind far away.

Eyes to send the evil eye. Eyes to bind and blind. Eyes to stab and curse. An eye to repel the evil eye. Add to a protection talisman to carry or hide in your car or home. Eyes to watch and warn of dangers. Hang over your door for the worries of this world and place on your altar for dangers from the otherworld. Eyes as offerings to seer spirits and deities of the divinatory arts. Burn them and bury them, the eyes to see the future.

Creamy, luscious, succulent fat – it makes such a good and pleasing offering to the gods and spirits. The rendered fats of beasts can be transformed via alchemy into flying ointments, tallow candles, protective ritual grease paints, and potent medicines. Hallucinogenic plant poisons insidiously infuse more thoroughly into animal fats and into your bloodstream than through a vegetable medium. My ointment of bear fat and henbane seed serves me well in my rites of shape-shifting and seership. When I use it I anoint my bear skull as well as myself. I do the same for my crow and owl skulls with my ointment of bird fats infused with feather ashes, the dust of bird bones, solanceae and artemisias – it aids me in spirit flight and travelling through the worlds in the form of a bird.

Burn down a tallow candle of bear to invoke its spirit or to give offering to a deity or nature spirit whom bear is sacred to. Fat is the food of the gods; burn the fat of pig, goat, deer, bear, cow, and bird as a grand offering. Bury it raw in the woods for the spirits of the wild. Rub fat on a statue to feed its inhabiting spirit.

Mix rendered fats with potent magical herbs, charcoals, and natural pigments to create grease paints to protect your body and soul for your rites of spirit work – especially those of possession and shape-shifting. Rub sacred fats into your untreated wooden ritual tools to feed them, darken them, and strengthen them.

Feathers lend us wings to fly out of body and between the worlds, tucked in the hair or stitched onto the collars and sleeves of cloaks. Feathers connect us to the world of the spirits and can deliver messages between them. Feathers tied to staffs, stangs, wands, ritual pipes, drums, and rattles used in spirit work. Feathers to slice and cut or feathers to caress and heal. Feathers hung for protection when travelling and feathers tucked under the mattress to receive true dreams. Wings to sweep away what doesn’t suit us and wings cleanse our bodies and souls. Wings wash away emotions and parasitic spirits like a fierce wind. Smudge with a tail fan to help redirect energies so things flow smoothly once more.

Rook and Crow Fetish

The heart is one of the seats of the soul. A poet would say a soul is not free from the body until the heart rots, eaten by the earth. To keep a heart is to collect a soul and its power. To hide one’s heart like a sorcerer in an ancient tale is to cheat death. To wrap a poultice around a heart is to heal a heart that still beats. To stab a heart is to tear into a soul and let darkness in.

Bake a heart into a salt dough poppet. It is your choice whether the dough contains healing or baneful herbs and whether you cover it in healing poultices or stab it with ill intent. Give a heart the name of your enemy and feed it to your pet or eat it yourself to gain power over them. Prick a fresh heart with pins, needles, or thorns to curse another or to reverse a curse laid upon you. Burn a heart on a fire or bury it in a pit as an offering to your gods or spirits whose currency is souls. Hearts can be dried and saved for later use like any herb in an apothecary. Reanimate a dried heart with red wine and red ochre until it is swollen and bloody once more.

Our ancestors wrapped themselves in fur hides to bring on prophetic dreams, to shape-shift into an animal, to journey into the other world, and to call upon their familiar spirits for their power and aid. Bear hides for dreaming, deer hides for transvection, wolf hides for hunting and battle, and seal hides for navigating the mysterious ocean. Furs are tools of magic and can be used as altar cloths, ritual costumes, and sacred blankets.

The rawhide of beasts is the body of our ritual drums and our rattles. We transform skin into musical instruments so the spirits will hear the song of their own flesh and come to us in our time of need. Any creature with skin can become a drum. The hide of each beast sings a different song in a different tune: deer and elk are high and resonant, bear is a deep and thundering roar, and cow and buffalo are soft and deep like their dark liquid eyes.

Save the leather for ritual costumes, for binding your book of arte, and for the crafting of amulets, fetiches, and sacred medicine bundles. Save the skin of a bird to craft from it a crane bag where you will store all your tools, fetiches, and talismans you wish to take with you into other worlds and other forms.

Teeth to bite and gnaw and scare. Teeth to devour curses, attacking spirits, and meddlesome folk. Teeth to chew and spit back out. Teeth to warn an unruly cub and teeth to put a trickster back in line. Teeth to rip and rend and bloody an enemy. Teeth to give bite to those who lack it and need it. My what big teeth you have, bigger than mine, predator to my prey. A fool stands against one armed to the teeth, but a wiser beast runs away. A tooth carved with a sigil and sung with a rune, carried to protect one from harm. A tooth dipped in venomous herbs to energetically stab and dig in like a serpent’s fang – the tooth of a bear, lion, whale, shark, or wolf.

Fox and Bat skulls

Tongues to speak benevolence or malevolence, tongues to bind or cut out, tongues to sweeten others to your cause or to ruin another’s. Are there tongues in the crane bag on your altar that you may speak and understand the languages of beasts of land and sea and sky? Do you possess tongues to exchange for your own in the otherworld so the animal spirits will understand you when you speak? I collect the tongues of birds, messengers between the worlds and ferriers of souls, that my own tongue may speak prophecy and knowledge from the other side and that the spirits may hear me when I call out.

CONCLUSION

I offer this knowledge to those students of the mysteries who truly wish to deepen their relationship with the animal world. Animals have a lot to teach us about magic and wisdom. Long have they been viewed by the human race as guardians, protectors, and teachers proficient in magic, shape-shifting, and communication with the supernatural world. Animals are our familiars, our messengers and intermediaries, our dream companions, our omens, the skulls and feathers on our altars, the skin of our drums and rattles, the antler and bone of our tool handles, the tooth and claw of our fetishes, the tallow in our candles, and the leather of our crane bags. They are furred and feathered gods in the trees, on our dinner plates, and in our homes deserving of our respect, reverence, and a change in our attitudes towards them.

Further Reading:

Bone Collecting: Cleansing & Consecration