#support your local coven

[tragicc]

[serialkilluh1996]

☆Gratitude and Grief ☆

Doctor-König x Frankenstein-female-reader pt. 1

Warnings ➛ : Angst / Mentions of bombs / Necrophilia(? He just kisses the corpse idk) / Mentions of gore/ probably an inaccuracy of how funeral homes and contracts work

What lengths will he go to in order to bring back his beloved Mrs. Frankenstein? Find out below.

You had the best husband a woman could ask for. Dr. König Frankenstein.

Strong, knowledgeable, caring, a very resourceful man too. He would personally hire Gordon Ramsey himself to make you the world's best chicken soup if you caught so much as a common cold.

Yeah, he was boastful by nature, having grown up in a prestigious mansion out in Austria with a personal cow pasture to top it all off, but his heart was in the right place. He was a show off, but he would never shy away from giving. That's what he's been doing this whole time, afterall. For the past six months, he'd been giving his all to bring you back.

It wasn't fair. He was never greedy. He never took a thing for granted. His entire life, he had been nothing but a grateful man, yet something most precious to him was taken away.

As careful and attentive as König was, nothing prepared him for the bombing of the local grocery store, leaving many injured and a single fatality. Your fatality.

Why? Why did it have to happen? He cherished everything in his life from the ability to wake up in the morning to getting to have you, ☆☆☆, as his wife. As his loving companion that supported him at his lowest. The materialistic things he owned were trivial compared to you. They didn't have the value, no, the soul that you did. He could've lost it all, given it all away, without a lick of pain, but he had become selfish with you as the months passed.

You were an angel given back to God, but he wasn't ready to let go of you. God could take someone else for all he cared. Anyone else. Afterall, König would be God if this worked out.

The first month was spent in denial and delusion. Late nights crying, unable to sleep without the warmth of your body thrown over his, taking up all the bed space despite being smaller than him. Wandering the house mindlessly, unsure of why he was even moving. What purpose did it serve? He couldn't even eat without you. It didn't take long for his loss of weight to become noticeable.

Even with his big stature, he had become thin, his once pudgy front left as a sunken, seeming hollow stomach.

Month two was spent on a stressful battle of convincing a funeral home to give him your corpse. The battle was tiresome. They were persistent, and his eager demeanor only betrayed the character of an insane man mourning his late wife, willing to do anything to get her body.

It would've failed had it not been for you jokingly signing a covenant consenting to him using your corpse for scientific study if you were to pass before him. You were always supportive of him and his experiments, and you trusted him with your life, so you didn't see a problem with giving him what was left of you after your demise. Little did you know, said demise would come sooner than anticipated.

Months three to four were spent

on prototypes while you were in the freezer. Those were the worst months of his life. With the help of other bodies, those of dead criminals, donated to science, he figured out the hard way that the it was obligatory to keep the brain in best condition over the body.

He had to practice on them first. He wouldn't dare risk his beloved without the complete guarantee of your return.

Neil, his final prototype, the one that sealed the deal, was a pain in the ass. The worse out of every attempt. A walking, decaying slob. He'd failed to keep his brain from rotting, leaving König with a zombie-like creature that spent two days wailing and growling in a cage. He couldn't bring himself to just kill it at first.

He saw hope in the man, even with his criminal past from when he was alive, but it didn't take long for his morals to change once he realized how much of a threat it could be. One blow to the head couldn't have hurt that much for it.

It was discouraging, for sure. Every night after that was spent wondering if he had failed you. He wouldn't dare bring you back if it meant letting you become that suffering, rotting, monster. But, he refused to let you rest in peace. Something in his soul wouldn't let you go.

The final months, months five to six, he spent fixing you. Perfecting you. The surgeries were draining to him. Having to replace your heart was most stressful, but knowing that you'd love him all the same if you were back was his motivation.

The lost of your ring finger pained him, knowing you wouldn't be able to wear the one jewel that bound your love, but in his eyes, in his heart, he knew the ring was just a physical expression that society bestowed upon you. The real love was in the time and effort.

He looks down on your corpse. You were so beautiful. Paler than usual, but what more could one expect from a corpse? Even in death, you were adorable. Fascinating. It was an honor to even see your face, despite the stitch going diagonally across your nose to keep your face together. No scars would destroy his love for you. No stitch would break his perfect image of you.

He rubs a hand across your forehead, dragging it down to your lips. Cold. Cold and dry. This was your last chance. His last chance. To prove himself worthy. To redeem himself. To make up for letting you die in that store.

For not being there for you as you bled out on that floor in the produce aisle. For not killing the man responsible. The death penalty wasn't enough in his eyes. No lethal injection would pay for the suffrage you went through.

His face scrunches in discomfort, his eyes squinting as they burned from the abrupt fall of tears. He should've never let you go on your own. He should've been there for you. To save you. To die with you. He lifts his hood, placing a somewhat salty kiss on your lips, leaving his warm tears upon your skin.

He places a hand on the lever connected to all the cords and jumpstarters on your body, a shutter escaping his mouth.

As he flips it, his body nearly recoils at how you begin to shake and twist, covering his mouth at the way your body twitches. He swiftly turns it off, seeing as to how you were staring to fry, his heart pumping heavily as he watched you for any sign of movement.

His eyes were hyper focusing on everything at once, his breathing was heavy, he could feel a burn in the back of his throat that he could only register as nausea.

".....grnghhhhhh..." was the low growling of his beloved as you struggled to lift yourself.

".....Sch-schatz?..." He quivers out, moving forward to place a large hand on your cheek as your empty eyes stared into his.

Thanks for reading! I'll be uploading part two when I get the chance.

You can support me by liking, reblogging, or cashapping me @ $Fundsbrownie

[celestialspecial]

Vibrantly Hidden

Synopsis: Lydia has been forced to return home to live with her sisters. The well of magick runs deep in her family, despite her best efforts to avoid that aspect of herself. But strange things are afoot in the town of Crystal Falls and in order to figure out these bizarre happenings she must work alongside her enemy from a rival coven-Billy Russo.

Authors Notes: This story has been my passion project as of late and something that I maybe hope to turn into something real and tangible one day. As a special thanks for all your support I want to share it with you first :) The title is still in the works as I explore other options- input is very welcome on it!

Warnings: 18+, Witchcraft and Magick, Some horror elements, graphic descriptions, smut (use your own discernment)

Chapter One: Click your heels together three times

There were few things I’m certain of in life. 

Never conjure when angry or when the moon is waning.

River spirits never forget a bargain spurned.

The Russo Coven couldn’t be trusted.

It was the near end of august, September rode in on the back of a cool breeze and yellow tinged leaves. 

Sipping a slightly-too salty margarita on a wine bar patio, the glass sweating despite the soft breeze. 

While most people were excited about autumn and all the treats the “-Ber months brought I couldn’t help but feel a pit of sadness at the thought of summer ending.

Ignoring reality had been my personal goal for the season and I’d done it so well. Books by the pool, painting sessions on the beach(with all the retired folks), hikes along trails covered in moss and jagged stones.

Sipping cocktails on patios like this, savoring the complex flavors and picking at charcuterie boards with cheeses whos names I butchered while ordering.

I was living the life. But with each passing day I knew I couldn’t ignore it for much longer. 

After budget cuts, my position at the local art museum was no longer “essential”. Having a background in art history left one wanting for jobs in a bad way.

I should be grateful for the job posting my older sister Elizabeth had sent but when I saw it conveniently was at the local college back home I couldn’t conceal the anxiety taking root in my chest.

I’d applied haphazardly, fully anticipating another, “thank you for your interest- we’ve decided to move ahead with other candidates.” 

But when I saw the “we’d love to have you come on board!” Intro line I knew my fate had been sealed. 

I needed this job.

It wouldn’t be so bad living back at home for a little while until another opportunity came along, right? 

My younger sister Emily was ecstatic. It almost broke my heart a little to imagine telling her I didn’t quite feel the same amount of eagerness.

I’d moved away because I wanted to feel free, to see what my life could be outside of the confines of my hometown. Outside of what I was.

I had needed space. Space in the form of multiple hundreds of miles away. 

Most people grow up playing on swing sets and eating peanut butter sandwiches. Growing up in a family of witches, is something entirely different.

When you’re young and impressionable the idea of having powers, knowing there’s more to life than what most others know. It can feel feel empowering. 

To me it was daunting. Exhausting. It’s not all hocus pocus and fun spellbooks or brewing potions.

I didn’t want to be me. I wanted something else.

Something normal.

The Dawson name was well known and revered in the town of Crystal Falls. We’d been here since the town was christened along with a few other families.

There’d been a Dawson Mayor, Head of the newspaper, a few doctors, even a sheriff. 

If only the upstanding community was aware that the Dawson name was a coven. Not just your run of the mill one, but powerful witches, dating back centuries.

The town today had no idea that witches had laid claim to this land so many years ago.

It’s not something one can post on social media. After the debacle in Salem all the smart actual witches branched off. Some migrated to the Midwest, others searched for the west coast. 

The Dawson’s had gone upwards along the east coast, becoming almost nomadic in nature until settling into a small village, close to the ocean but gently tucked into a blanket of forest.

A river cut through town giving a grand display of multiple waterfalls that ended at the nearby beach. 

If you caught one of the large celestial events of comets or a grandiose full moon the river and falls seemed to glimmer and glow, taking on an ethereal hue.

Hence the name- Crystal Falls. 

Our family had helped imbue protective barriers around the town alongside the Russo coven. Another family of warlocks that had also managed to stumble upon this area.

It was beautiful and charged with an uncontained wild nature that must’ve called to our ancestors in some way. And above all else- it was home.

Me and my sisters had been raised by our aunt and grandmother after our parents died when we were young.

It had been labeled an accident. Driving through the mountainous terrain to reach town was dangerous even during the brightest of days.

But there had been signs, too many for our families liking, to chalk it up to merely an accident. There were too many “magickal” elements at play to ignore.

The brand new car losing control, the large tree having conveniently fallen, after the too conspicuous lightning strike and torrential storm appearing on an otherwise clear meteorological prediction.

I tried not to think of it too long, for fear of losing myself in the grief. Too afraid of falling into the whirlpool of those feelings and drowning, never to be seen again.

“Would you like another?” The waitress asked, taking away my now empty margarita glass.

“Yes please, actually do you have anything remaining from the seasonal menu?”

“Sorry, we just finished the last of the summer sangria but we do have our fall menu out! Fig spritzer with sugared thyme and a pumpkin spice bourbon.”

Another nail in the coffin. Summer was over and I needed to face the reality of my impending trip back home. Whether I liked it or not.

Picking some random Chardonnay off the menu in silent rebellion to their fall drinks I feel a tingle in my left pinkie.

I recognize that feeling. It appears when I’m sad. Or stressed. Or angry. Sometimes when I’m happy. 

I’ll be watching a Netflix show and laughing so hard on my sofa and then I feel the tingling sensation in my fingertips. 

Like dipping my fingers into super icy water then immediately into hot boiling water. I catch it and breathe into the feeling.

Willing it to stop. 

Some tries take longer than others. Over the years I’ve managed to muffle that part of me that yearns to escape.

A rabid dog locked in a basement waiting for the caretaker to get sloppy, lazy. Bursting past the seam of the door and bounding freely into the night.

Not today. One day perhaps. I shudder thinking about it. Or maybe it’s just the breeze, goose bumps break out along my arms and chest.

Eventually after some practiced breathing I feel the tiny reverberations cease. Returning from whence they came.

Boy how I am not looking forward to going home.

The drive back home was a scenic four hour trek through mountains and forestry that could make any camper or hiking enthusiast’s mouth water. 

I’d lost count over the years how many scenic overlooks dotted the area and if there was a drinking game involving shots every time a quaint picturesque New England type village popped up on google maps one would quickly die of alcohol poisoning.

“What do you want for dinner?” Elizabeth’s text pinged on my phone that was propped on the dash hastily.

“So excited!!!!” Emily responded not two seconds later. The age dynamics were far too apparent.

I couldn’t help but grin, I loved my sisters I really do, but it’s been so long since I’d lived with them. 

Elizabeth came into her magic first- understandably so, being the oldest. Grandma was so proud, seeing Lizzy carry on the Dawson legacy.

“Easy Em” 

“Sorry! Sorry! Drive safe!”

I rolled my eyes, chuckling a little as I turned onto another mountain path. This added time to my trip but I just …couldn’t bring myself to take the other route. Not yet.

After another hour or so of driving I finally saw the sign for Crystal Falls, keep right for 30 miles. 

A crusted slab of wood with paint peeling off of it. Emerald green and white swirls of paint beckoning any passerby to stop.

It didn’t pass my notice that a handful of trees had leaves tinged in orange, a few scattered red bursts.

Traitors.

It would be beautiful. The kiss of death to summer and its green tinged warmth. I’d even miss the bugs.

Turning down the Main Street there was a constant stream of activity. People walking in and out of shops, visitors milling around the welcome center, campers clearly here for the upcoming fall foliage unfurling comically large maps of the cave systems.

There was a gazebo at the town center, a la Gilmore girls Stars Hollow that was always decorated according to season. 

I said a silent prayer of thanks seeing the sunflowers still adorning it and not hay bales and pumpkins.

Festive mums sat in fat glazed pots in front of the stores. I rolled my windows down to inhale the smell of home.

Wondering if it’d smell like how I remembered. Fresh flowers, sweet honeysuckle and that tell tale pinch of chill.

Tree branches swayed overhead with the seasonal breeze. Yellowed leaves broke off of a nearby oak and scattered into the street. 

I watched as a gaggle of school girls walked over them, crunching them into the pavement without a thought.

Turning off the main causeway and into the more scenic countryside where a few vineyards with their adjoining wineries sat.

Moon Brew Farm with their delicious peach wine. Cats Tail Vineyard that created a bubbly moscato with hints of fresh blackberry. 

I could feel my mouth water just imagining it, that full mouth feel. Fizzing bubbles popping on my tongue and chasing it with a panini whose sides runneth over in pale cheese.

My stomach gurgled, begging for food. I had only stopped at a Wendy’s on the way since the McDonald’s drive through had a line longer than I cared to sit in.

The remnants of a devoured chicken sandwich rested on my center console. The paper still flecked with grease and a loose pickle that somehow managed to escape my mouth.

I passed a large estate off to the left. A high arched gate cutting the drive off at the main road. The stone pillar at the end read, “Russo.” Engraved into a black marble plaque. 

I drove by, right hand on the wheel, left out the window in an honorary “one finger salute ” at the disgusting excuse for a castle marring our town.

Dirt billowed behind my rickety Subaru as I finally ambled onto a gravel driveway. The popping sound of rocks being shot out from underneath my tires like rapid shrapnel alerted the ladies inside. 

“Lydia!” Emily was the first to run out, screen door slamming shut into Elizabeth’s face as she jumped the porch steps completely.

Lizzy scowled, pushing the screen door out of her way like it owed her money.

“Em, what the hell?” 

I tossed my car in park just in time to see Emily’s grinning face and fists tapping at my window like a madwoman. 

“Can you give me like a second?” I managed a laugh, popping the door open only to be tackled in a rib cage smushing embrace.

“I missed you! So-o-o-o-o much!” Each ‘o’ was accompanied by a sway of our bodies back and forth. 

Elizabeth finally reached us, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. 

“Bet you missed this.” She joked, gesturing to Emily who had wedged her face into my shoulder.

“Shuff-Upf” came Emily’s muffled response as she refused to let go. Maybe she was afraid I’d disintegrate, that I was some clever illusion instead of actually being here in the flesh.

“Missed you-“ I gave a genuine, albeit weary smile to my older sister, somehow untangling a limb to motion her into the bear hug going on.

“So glad to see you.” She relented, easing into the sister shuffle.

It felt nice. I hadn’t stopped so much to reminisce on these things when I was away. I did miss them. I did miss home. I just didn’t miss what home had meant to me for so long.

Eventually Emily peeled herself off of me and dragged me into the house, not pausing even when I nearly tripped on the porch steps.

“Luggage can wait for later!” She had stated. Dinner was ready and honestly I just wanted to unwind and zone out into a pile of amazing food.

Elizabeth and Emily got the cooking gene from our mother. I got my fathers gene of enjoying said cooking.

Chicken pot pie with a flaky crust, yams coated in golden butter, green beans sautéed with almonds and pepper and a peach cobbler with succulent fruit from the local farmers market.

“I still can’t believe you’re home and not just for a vacation but like, for good.” Emily twisted her fork into the leftover cobbler morsels, licking a crumb from her thumb.

“Not for good, just…for now.”

Elizabeth nodded sagely, catching my hesitation and being kind enough to change the subject. 

“How was the drive?”

“Not bad.” I spooned a piece of chicken coated in sauce onto my plate as Elizabeth took another bite of green beans. “I see tons of campers are already here. Don’t they know it’ll be weeks until fall foliage actually appears?”

“The mayor has been trying to push for more summer into fall events to draw in the crowds.” 

“Yeah Elizabeth’s boyfriend has really been overhauling the event planning thing.”

“He is NOT my boyfriend.” Her cheeks turned almost as red as her hair. “It’s about time we had a member of the council actually give a shit about our town and its livelihood.”

Emily dramatically sighed, bringing the back of her hand to her forehead and fluttered her eyelashes. “Yes whatever would we do without dear Sebastyan.”

“The crab?” I smirked, reaching my fork towards another yam. Lizzy pulled the plate away giving me that older sister, raised eyebrow look. It spelled out “watch it” clear enough for me to relent.

“Don’t you start with me.”  

Dinner wraps up with each of us carrying a Handful of dirty dishes into the kitchen. Piled high into the sink with an unspoken agreement to get to them tomorrow.

I watch the two of them joke and share inside info about their planned week ahead. Things I’d know if I lived here. Schedules that would make sense to me but are now new and unknown.

The two of them continue their conversation as I teeter my messy plate on top of an empty glass that once contained a milkshake. It feels weird to hear their voices in person again. The last time I was home was maybe two years ago? For Christmas?

Elizabeth is just as elegant as I remember. Tall, long red hair swept up into a modest pony tail. Barely a smudge of makeup on her but soft pale skin with a dash of freckles across her high cheekbones.

I remember standing on my tippy toes when we were little, getting measured against the doorframe, hoping and praying I’d grow as tall as my older sister.

Fate didn’t pay attention to my pleas. My body threw in the towel the minute I struck 5’3”. Cruel, if I’m being honest. She whisks about the kitchen making a funny face at something Emily said.

It feels like I’m in a fishbowl, hearing noises, knowing someone is speaking but it just sounds muffled and foreign to me. Like I’m not really here.

Emily makes another comment that pulls a laugh from Elizabeth. Emily has always been a lightning bolt. Even when she was a child. Her hair is cut into a blunt bob with thick heavy bangs. It’s dyed a dark brown that almost matches her hot chocolate colored eyes. 

She’s maybe an inch shorter than me, a rarity in our family that the oldest sibling is actually the tallest. My younger sister however has a face full of makeup. It never looks to be too much, always tastefully done and complimenting her features.

They’ve changed so much and not at all from when I last saw them. From the pictures I’d had hanging in my apartment that now sit in a storage facility. 

I feel the bubbling tightness in my chest and I’m yanked from my misty eyed staring. Being around them, their energy, I can feel parts of me clawing to get out. Like taking a spray bottle to a pesky cat, I shove it down.

Emily turned in first, working at a bakery requires her to be up before the sun. She gives me a quick hug once more.

“I really am excited you’re home…for however long.”  Before starting up the stairs, sounds of the shower turning on and soft lilting singing to some show tune carries throughout the halls.

“Wine?” Elizabeth holds a glass up with a bottle of cherry wine, the deep scarlet liquid looks intoxicating. 

“Please.”

We retreat to the porch as the last rays of sunset disappear behind the trees leaving that unsettling light blue that comes before navy then black.

The old rocking chairs groan as we take our seats. The sound the cork popping makes echoes throughout the woods surrounding the house. 

I never forgot how quiet it gets. The crickets had just started their nightly serenade and a few owl hoots call out from a distance. 

She pours me a hefty glass of the wine, handing it to me as we both delicately lean forward in our rickety chairs, balancing bottle and glasses.

Dozens of long shadows climb out from all around us. Reaching towards the front steps and skittering along the warped floorboards.

If I close my eyes it feels like I can even hear them calling out to me. Where have you been? Why have you been gone so long?

Every leaf, branch, blade of grass blending together to create large charcoal swaths against the forest floor. It both chills and excites me. 

“It is nice, ya know? To have you home for more than four days at a time.”

I feel myself shaken from my stupor. Mind slowly drifting back to where it’s supposed to be in the present. On the porch. With my sister. 

For the first time in years.

“You say that now since I’ve only been here for a few hours.” I take a long sip of the wine and let the fruity flavors dance on my tongue. 

“I’m serious.” I hear her rocker stop creaking, her eyes focused on me. Like burning sapphires. I’d always been jealous of her eyes. “I think this…this will be good for all of us.” 

I watch her take a drink before continuing, “We have a lot to catch up on.”

I ponder in silence, running my fingertip along the wine glass’ lip. For a little there’s only the sound of our rockers moving back and forth. 

Occasionally I’ll hear the sounds of Emily getting ready for bed upstairs. A single car drives past on the road, far enough we can’t make it out save for the headlights.

The vibrant ripples of yellow cutting through the trees then fading into the distance. The trees gobble up the remaining light.

“How’s work been?” 

Elizabeth smiles, pouring a little more wine into her cup. I notice as she sips deeply, letting her eyelids drift shut, pondering how to respond.

“It’s been good. I travel a little for work more now than usual but it’s ok. Rewarding.” 

“I couldn’t do it. Be a midwife.” She nodded thoughtfully at my comment, staring off into the ever darkening tree line.

The moon is out, but I watch as it quickly becomes obscured by passing clouds. 

“It can be tough, but I have this gift. It feels selfish to not use it. At least in a way that brings purpose to my life.” 

I found myself nodding and staring off as well. Elizabeth is a healer, ever since she was little she had a knack for it. Never getting colds, being able to concoct awful tasting potions that somehow worked and cured a multitude of things.

Every witch can do basic magic but more often than not, there’s a specialty. A gift that is unique to that person. 

Some people get lucky with theirs. Others not so much.

“You can go on the road with it. Really explore your options.” 

“I do have over a hundred 5 star yelp reviews.” She grinned toasting her glass to the air.

“Elizabeth Dawson-“ I held my hand in front of me, punctuating gestures as if reading a headline, “Midwife To The Stars!” 

We both giggled and took another sip after sloppily ‘cheers-ing’. 

“Ahhhh I don’t know if California or New York is for me.” She chuckled, twisting a strand of her dark red hair held by her ponytail. 

I settle back into my seat, rocking back and forth, pushing with my heels and feeling the entirety of my foot flatten then pitch back.

“Soooo Sebastyan?” 

“Don’t start with me already.” Liz smirked at me, dipping her fingers in the wine glass and flicking a few drops in my direction.

Maybe this was ok. Maybe this would be ok.

How silly and naïve I was.

After half an hour of sitting on the porch and enjoying the entire bottle of wine, the sky had fully morphed from navy to inky black. The local owl continued to hoot, a rhythmic sound that I could feel myself drifting off too.

Elizabeth had already placed her glass on the counter by the sink, turning in for the night. Flipping the porch light off and only on occasion would the motion sensor light by the back door turn on.

Squirrels, chipmunks, raccoons maybe even a coyote or two always liked to wander up by the back door and sniff around our trash bins. I sat up reading in the living room a while longer, not quite ready to face my old room.

Instead choosing to inspect the first floor, wondering what new things I could pick out from the décor. A small painting of Emily’s rabbit, Artimus that was clearly done on a wine and paint night.

Large bookshelves lined the backwall surrounding the TV, so many books from Elizabeth’s studies, health magazines spread along the coffee table.

A wreath with some greenery bearing white berries and red bow, a few old coffee tins and tea containers holding either flowers or some assortment of pens and paintbrushes.

So much was the same and yet I still felt like an outsider.

Surrendering to the reality I did need to go to bed I gathered my phone, book and flicked off the last of the remaining lamps to ascend the stairs.

Our gallery wall floated along the steps. Photos of almost every generation of our family lay plastered against the drywall that desperately needed repainted.

Our parents wedding day, their smiling faces. Moms bright blue eyes and Dads goofy grin in his tuxedo which was so chic in the eighties. Then came photos of Grandma and Aunt Cora.

I quickly shuffled past them. I had weeks, no, months, to look at these and let the waves of guilt wash over me. Not tonight. Not before bed anyways.

Padding across the plush carpet to my bedroom, the door ajar and bedside lamp on. No doubt from Elizabeth. It didn’t escape my notice the bundle of lavender and dill laid on my pillowcase.

For protection. I hold the small bundle in my lap a moment, searching my mind for the exact spells its used for. My grandmother would have a fit if she knew it was taking me this long.

What can I say? I’ve been living life as a normal human for the past ten years to the best of my ability. Ignoring anything magickal or otherwise. I’d even avoided palm readers at the local county fairs I’d gone to.

I wanted little to nothing to do with magick. Regardless of how deep it ran in our family. I lay the bundle down on the end table right next to my phone.

Please protect me from bad dating app messages.

A stack of clean towels and beauty products rested on the toilet seat in the bathroom. I pulled my hair back into a low bun, splashing water onto my face and rubbing some milky cleanser that I knew had to be Emily’s onto my skin.

It smelled fragrant, like lemons and a sweet sugary after scent. Glancing up to survey the damage from the long day on my face, expecting to see dark circles, dull dry skin, but instead I looked fine. I looked normal.

Turning the cleanser over in my hands wondering if it had some “extra” properties in it that I wasn’t aware of but my younger glamorous sister did. I couldn’t see anything outside the ordinary.

I didn’t sense anything off.

Shrugging and placing it back on the counter, before returning back to my bedroom. Allowing myself to fall heavily against the mattress, a comical ‘huff’ escaping my lips. This was it. I was here.

For however long I needed to be. My fingertips ran up along the hem of the quit on my bed. Feeling the bumps of stitches along the pads of my fingers, the different textured fabrics. My eyes felt heavy.

Sleep called to me, sweet and deep. The edges of my vision blurred and darkened. With the last of my remaining alertness I turned the lamp off. I felt that deep heaviness fall over me.

In the far-off distance I could hear the owl once more. Then it was truly silent.

The back-sensor light came on. I whined as my room was immediately filled with a bright fluorescent light.

“What the hell...” I rubbed at my eyes, still not adjusted to such a bright searing light all of a sudden. Then I heard something knock against the garage. It didn’t sound like a skunk, or a raccoon.

Unless it was a huge raccoon.

Doubtful.

Pushing off of the bed I crouched down, making my way to the window. The curtains were sheer and the blinds were up. Peering around the side I craned my neck to see what was out there.

It was quiet. So startlingly quiet. No fauna chirping or calling out into an otherwise peaceful night.

The light was still on, but there was nothing in the yard. No animals, no creeps. Nothing.

I felt the hair on the back of my neck perk up. A green spark tickled the end of my fingertips and I didn’t even attempt to shove it away. My body knew there was something out there.

We’re so used to being the predator, never the prey. My eyes continued to scan back and forth, wondering if I needed to let one of my sisters know something was up.

Maybe this was normal? Did the light just randomly turn on from time to time? Ya know- technology? So efficient.

If that was the case why did I feel so…off? Something, isn’t right. Then I see it.

A flicker so fast that I’m half certain my mind made it up. Back in the tree line by the back of the garage, a different kind of darkness.

Not the shadows I had seen earlier from the trees on the porch. This is more opaque. It seems to undulate as it moves along the back of the yard. It doesn’t glide but rather jerks.

I feel my heart begin to race.

Its pace is slow, unseemly. Shadow against shadow and yet I can see it clear as day. Blackness that swallows the night whole. It’s form shivers and writhes against a large oak.

I must be dreaming. Yes. I’d fallen asleep and now I am dreaming something up that isn’t there. What a funny story I’ll have to tell my sisters in the morning.

But to be sure…

I grab my phone, sliding my finger across the screen to bring up the camera, pointing it out the back window. Somehow in the few moments it took me to grab my phone its gone.

The shadow isn’t where I last saw it. I am dreaming. I set my phone back down and then I see it.  Or rather, it sees me.

It sees me, seeing it. And my body goes rigid.

Black malformed nothingness creeping along the garage and staring at me. Its featureless, save for cold pinpricks of red where eyes should be.

Red and beady, almost like light reflecting against an animals eyes.

It glows, but maybe anything would look glow-y against such a stark backdrop. The blood in my body runs like ice. The goose bumps have moved to my arms as well.

I don’t know how long we stare at each other. Maybe three seconds, maybe five minutes. I blink for the first time in I don’t know how long and when I stare back its gone.

Really gone this time.

I must have scanned the backyard and the fence and the woods and the garage multiple times for over ten minutes. I see nothing. My head feels fuzzy. Like I’d taken a large sleeping pill and have been fighting the effects for too long.

I hoist myself back into bed, because I am too afraid to go out there and check. Too tired to wake my sisters. It feels like my limbs have been replaced with sacks of flour.

Heavy, soft, the weight bringing me down. Pushing me against the mattress. I’m exhausted and alert and my body doesn’t know which to indulge more.

Eventually sleep wins and I drift off into a fitful night filled with dreams of sharp shadows following me. And one with red eyes leading the chase.

[oc-empire]

Support your local coven

Rules Info Etc

Witches: | Leelah | Asta | Atlas & Calum

Wolves: | Jaxson | Rhysand | Camden

Other: | Keitaro | Kieran

Status: Active-ish

!!This account may possess: violence, witchcraft, supernatural elements, and suggestive themes, please do not interact if these make you uncomfortable!!

[ashabsynthe]

Witchcraft and Spirituality: Exploring the Connection Between Magic and Faith

Witchcraft and spirituality are two concepts that have been intertwined for centuries. In many cultures, witches were seen as spiritual leaders, and their rituals and practices were seen as a way to connect with the divine.

Today, there is a growing interest in witchcraft and spirituality, and many people are exploring the connection between the two. There are many different ways to practice witchcraft, and there is no one right way to do it. Some witches focus on using magic to manifest their desires, while others use it for healing or protection. Some witches believe in a higher power, while others do not.

There is no one right way to be a witch, and there is no one right way to connect with spirituality. However, there are many benefits to exploring the connection between the two. Witchcraft can help you to connect with your intuition, to learn more about yourself, and to find your place in the world. Spirituality can help you to find meaning and purpose in life, and to connect with something larger than yourself.

If you are interested in exploring the connection between witchcraft and spirituality, there are many resources available to you. There are books, websites, and even online communities where you can learn more about witchcraft and spirituality. You can also find local covens or groups that meet regularly to practice witchcraft and share their knowledge.

Exploring the connection between witchcraft and spirituality can be a rewarding and enlightening experience. It can help you to connect with your inner power, to find your place in the world, and to live a more meaningful life.

Here are some additional thoughts on the connection between witchcraft and spirituality:

Witchcraft can be seen as a way to connect with the divine. Witches often use rituals and practices to tap into the natural world and to connect with the energy of the universe.

Spirituality can provide a sense of purpose and meaning in life. It can help people to find their place in the world and to connect with something larger than themselves.

Witchcraft and spirituality can be complementary practices. Witches can use their magic to support their spiritual journey, and spirituality can provide a framework for understanding the power of magic.

If you are interested in exploring the connection between witchcraft and spirituality, there are many resources available to you. You can find books, websites, and even online communities where you can learn more about witchcraft and spirituality. You can also find local covens or groups that meet regularly to practice witchcraft and share their knowledge.

I hope this blog post has given you some food for thought on the connection between witchcraft and spirituality. If you are interested in learning more, I encourage you to explore the resources that are available to you.

[polyhexian]

Cait and Tell in the Runaway AU - Wait, y'know what, we can do better on the 3-Grimwalker Pile-Up, this can get so much more ridiculous.

Admittedly this only works if both Jasper and Will's staffs are out of commission for the moment. *handwave*

Jasper launches himself at Tell and thus begins their fistfight. Panicking and determined on Jasper's part, panicking and confused on Tell's. Hunter, Caitlyn, and Enoch are all like "what. what?"

But then all of Caitlyn's neighbors start crowding around hollering and shouting encouragement like "GIVE IT TO 'EM, TELL!" This is a small, tight-knit community that firmly believes in supporting their own, and also this is the most interesting thing that's happened since Old Man Jebthro caused a ratworm stampede last year. People are yelling out tips, or at least fight moves they want to see. Some folks have the gall to criticize Jasper and Tell's brawling skills. Bets are being placed. Caitlyn is peeved to hear one of her neighbors betting against Tell, but of course she would, this is the same woman who always turns her nose up at Caitlyn's pies. Hunter has started pick-pocketing the crowd; he's sure his dad has this well in hand, and at this rate they obviously aren't gonna get a job here, so he might as well get SOME value out of the place. The only person who notices is Enoch, when he attempts to pick her pocket. Assuming they are somehow both children in this timeline, they start slapfighting and yelling at each other.

This is the scene that Will suddenly stumbles into. Jasper and Tell were already freaked out enough by each other, but now faced with a third Grimwalker in full Golden Guard regalia, they freak out so much worse. Will wades into the fight with the intention of breaking it up and arresting Jasper in the process, but instead the other two just launch themselves at him. They're still fighting each other, though, and it devolves into a three-way fistfight.

The crowd goes WILD. They've had not one, but TWO outsiders show up today and immediately give them entertainment! And look at our Tell, holding his own! You show 'em, Tell! They're gonna be telling this story in the local tavern for YEARS.

Will might've assumed that his very presence was going to do his job for him, the Golden Guard tends to have that effect when he walks onto the scene, but unfortunately for him, Cait and Tell chose the most out-of-the-way location possible to hide. This is the farthest part of the toenail on the Titan's pinky toe, it's barely changed since the Savage Ages. It was never seen as profitable enough for anyone on the torso to bother with it; the whole region doesn't even have wifi. (Belos IS planning an Extremeties Outreach Program that'll start implementing the infrastructure needed to bring even these remote settlements under the coven system's thumb, but he hasn't gotten around to it yet.) The people know that the empire exists in theory and that the Golden Guard is a thing, but heck if they know what the guy looks like. Mostly they're wondering who this idiot dressed all in white is. Tell in his everyday wear and Jasper in his travel gear are looking pretty dirty too, but Will looks the worst out of the three of them.

Caitlyn, unlike her neighbors, is WELL AWARE of what the Golden Guard looks like, so she is starting to understand why her partner is panicking.

Hunter and Enoch, however, being sensible children, have, upon watching their fathers tackle the Golden Guard, looked at each other. Obviously both of them know who the Golden Guard is, Hunter from traumatic experiences and Enoch from cautionary bedtime stories. So they have a brief conference. If YOUR dad is fighting the Golden Guard, and MY dad is fighting the Golden Guard, then WE'RE DRIVING THE PLANE!

And that's how Will's shins suddenly come under attack from two small children.

Mrs. Pie Critic makes a remark about how she always KNEW there was something wrong with Tell's girl, and Caitlyn very gallantly does NOT tackle the woman into the dirt because SOMEONE in this family needs to stay calm. The rest of her neighbors are shouting encouragement at Enoch anyway.

The whole mess eventually ends with a little village elder or mayor tottering in like "what's all this?" and that's how three grown men get chastised right there in the town square. It's all "you can't just come into our home and start trouble!" and "we can't just start fistfighting outsiders, we get little enough trade as it is!" and "Tell I know you, why on EARTH did you think this was necessary?" Tell is very sheepish like yes, yes, sorry about that, terrible mistake on my part. Jasper is just vibrating while he tries to decide if it'll cause more problems to stand here and get scolded while the Golden Guard is RIGHT THERE or to just grab Hunter and run.

Will is lying on his back in the dust staring up at the sky, wondering at his life choices and making weak gestures of acknowledgement to their lecturer. He can appreciate a person who has this much control and commands this much respect in their community; even the crowd of onlookers are shuffling their feet sheepishly. This is probably when he manages to convey "look I'm just trying to ask those two some questions" at which point it's like, oh my titan you three were brawling like drunks over some QUESTIONS? For shame! Let the man ask you some questions, goodness!

That's when Caitlyn comes over like "ahaha well said, come on I'll go put a kettle on and we'll hear out these questions!" and drags the three of them back to her and Tell's house where they proceed to awkwardly sit around the coffee table. Jasper and Will aren't convinced that their tea isn't poisoned. Caitlyn has to set up a million privacy spells because, now deprived of the entertaining fistfight, the neighbors have all spontaneously decided to do some garden work or sweep the street outside the house.

"shins" hunter is the distraction so that Enoch can kick him in the nuts

[spann-stann]

Setting Blurb Art: Soldiers of the 36th Century

(A massive shout out and thank you to the artist @hyliabeilschmidt, go gib her your money!)

United Markets "Covenanter" Militiaman - While the non-collectivist collective of non-states that form the United Markets (U.M.) do not practice conscription, it is heavily frowned upon for sovis (sovereign individuals) to not do their bit against the forces of statism by participating in a local militia. As they have become the dominant sub-faction within the U.M., the Hoppean "Covenant" model of non-state structure become wildly copied. So too did its style of fashion, on and off the battlefield. This militiaman is wearing the "Sunday Best" combat uniform made popular by Hoppeans of Ceres. Originally meant as a unifying mark of material culture for the original covenant community on Ceres, the black and gold tartan is now worn by all that pledge to take up arms in defense of the United Markets.

World Congress of Freedom "Clonscript" Trooper - Portmanteau of clone and conscript, referring to the cloned portion of the World Congress of Freedom’s military, known as the Peoples’ Legions. W.C.O.F. Party Members consider “Clonscript” derogatory; they prefer Combat Bioautomata. Party Members of the W.C.O.F. donate genetic material to flash clone soldiers to fight in their stead (rumor has it the DNA of fallen enemies is harvested as well). Due to the nature of their production all Clonscripts are sterile, and their bodies are not designed to last beyond thirty years after decanting. This Clonscript has survived his first deployment, and has received body armor signifying his promotion from Hastati to Principes. The next human wave he is sent to, he may receive combat vehicle support.

Corporate Empire Land Force "Dragoon" (Blood Guard) - In the Corporate Empire, the highest award one can receive in the line of duty is the Anderson Blood Diamond. Recipients of the Blood Diamond, or a member of the recipient's immediate family (if awarded posthumously), are inducted into the ranks of the Blood Guard. The Blood Guard serve as the Land Force's fanatic light infantry (the red-blooded counterpart to the cooler and collected Shock Guard tankers), and are more than willing to perform more acts above and beyond the call of duty. Guardsmen like this one wear the crimson red duty deel under their combat armor. An unspoken rule among members of the Blood Guard is to never be in the same bar with members of the Shock Guard. No glory is won in inter-service bar fights.

[n3kk1tty]

Lost Boys Drabble: Yeehaw David

(Based in Beasts of Santa Carla Universe)

It all started with a joke and a western movie. Only you and David were in the TV room at this point as Michael and Star had long gone to work while Laddie went to go harass his new teenage friends in Woodsboro. David always had trouble sleeping, especially with Laddie being a teenager now thanks to his special meds and the daywalkers being up during the day. He felt anxious being the leader and though he'd rather than die then admit it he was worried about his coven.

" Up late again handsome? " You sprawled into David's lap as he stared blankly at the news channel. He grumbled before a hand found its way to absent mindedly caress your thigh. " Can't sleep. Nothing good is on anyway. " You laugh affectionately as you hand him a glass of whiskey. " Well can't be helped, your watching them talk about the weather. Why don't you watch something with me maybe you'll fall asleep. " The scruffy blonde takes the glass placing a kiss of thanks to your temple before handing the remote to you. " Just no romance movies. I can't fall asleep to those I get too invested. "

Pulling a thin blanket onto your pile you stretch out on the big recliner with David as you turn on a western movie you wanted to see. The quick and the dead seemed like an interesting movie premise to you especially with a female gunslinger as a main lead. It was pretty much assumed David didn't like westerns and thought they were boring as anytime you tried to bring up watching them he'd make snarky comments about it. This time though with him being so tired he was silently complacent as he laid his head on your chest. Curling his aching immortal body against the silk of your night gown which clashed with his cotton tshirt and comical striped pants.

David made it through most of the movie fighting through his sleep towards the end as he really wanted to finish it. When his body did finally crash falling into a deep unwakeable sleep it was right before the finale arc of the movie. Michael had discovered his loves asleep in the big brown recliner when he came home on his lunch break. Having to gently scoop you both up one by one to take you to bed before he had to head back in. Michael lovingly cleaned his hands from motorcycle grease before placing a gentle kiss to David's tired form. This little ritual started a passion in David he didn't know he had.

By the time the local rodeo came around David was an avid fanatic of anything western cowboy related. He even went so far as to have you, Michael, or Star record him rodeo or Westerns on Vhs from the VCR. It wasn't a secret and even if he got some light teasing at first about it everyone could see how much joy it brought him. David even got Laddie to sit and watch a few with him of course though this led to him being called an old man and asked if he lived through Western times. Which hurt but he did indeed live during that age which may have added to his initial disdain for the genre.

All of that didn't matter though when you placed a big stack of rodeo tickets down for him. It would be at night so him and the boys could enjoy which David was absolutely excited for. He made a not so big event of it getting a black cowboy hat and a new stylish black outfit to boot. Dwayne thought it was endearing that he was so excited to have things he couldn't have when growing up. David only ever heard rumors of the cowboys of America's great frontier and here he was at a rodeo watching cowboys at work. Paul and Marko loved the bull riding while Star really only thought the female sections of the rodeo were cool. Michael didn't even know it was legal to strap kids to the back of sheep but he found himself cheering when a little contestant made it half way through the stadium.

Laddie had convinced you to allow his two friends to tag along to the rodeo. The teenager stated it would be boring but he'd go to support David if his friends could come. The minute the bull riding started Laddie, Stu, and Billy were seated eyes glued to the arena as David smirked in triumph feeling like he was still cool. That was until the three teenagers asked if they could ride the sheep which the older vampires huffed they would be too heavy. David would never trade in his motorcycle for a horse but after that night if you offered him a black stallion he'd be tempted. You smiled to yourself as David let you wear his new cowboy hat as you hopped on the back of his motorcycle ready to go home from the rodeo.

Locking your arms around his waist you whispered in his ear. " Isn't there some rule where if you wear a cowboys hat it means you're 'riding' them. " David laughs to himself. " I don't need a cowboy hat to get that message across with you. But officially no that's just a rumor, not actually in the etiquette code. " You both laugh as you ride out into the Santa Carla wilderness back to your shared home with the loves of your immortal life.

[env0writes]

Juniper Journal’s Vol. 2, 6.12.24 “Family First (To Go)"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

It is difficult – to say the least To be amongst merry-makers Whose families are a place of frivolity (or fakers) When honesty stirs within my soul’s bountiful feast

To bear the smile at the import of blood When it has been a great wound to me and mine To those corralled about my fire with wine No longer let me utter false avowals of import in flood

The blood of of the covenant Is thicker still than the water of the womb Is a quote misspoken, heard surely to my tomb Kith or kin are both tempered in the kiln of time’s sacrament

What is meant in the heavy-handedness of fathers? Passed down on high from Our Father unto son Flightless doves will remain when there are none When pews passed to palls, carried high on hearse

Stitch yourself in what manner you will Be it blood or water or bruises or swill

[wormonastringtheory]

It's Indigenous Solidarity Day in so-called "canada". I've seen VERY little discussion on here of it. Let's change that. I'm a settler and it's my bare-minimum commitment to challenge colonial silence.

Please dedicate yourself to Indigenous communities. Learn who's land you're on! Build connections with local Indigenous community members and make those connections nourishing and supportive, not tokenizing. Make sure you actually know the history and names and languages of the people's land you occupy. Make sure you actually make intentional and repeated, sustained efforts to support Indigenous mutual aid, food sovereignty, archival work, language revitalization and legal fund efforts. Learn about the health and environmental disparities of the communities around you. But also, engage with Indigenous joy! Engage with Indigenous spaces that you know are open to settlers. Support Indigenous land defenders and Land defence actions and encampments. Learn about sacred medicines and farming practices and art styles and agreements between nations (for example, the Dish with One Spoon Wampum Covenant), with permission. Challenge your relationship with colonial language, relationship dynamics, views on identity and spirituality, and what colonial structures you interact with and uphold and make the commitment to work to distance yourself from that structure and work to dismantle it! Read decolonial literature, attend open workshops and education sessions and never give up on your ongoing learning. Commit to decolonial resistance for your lifetime and beyond.

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Pack Kortac - Demon! Swagger Lore

Tags: monster au, blood, gore, flesh eating, he's a monster he eats people, soulmate elements.

-The birth of Roland “Swagger” Kominksi was not a traditional one. His mother’s were witches, young and powerful, who longed deeply for a child they simply could not create. They tried runes and tinctures, nights of passion under the pale full moon, and yet conceiving one of their own blood was simply not meant to be.  And so it was through careful ritual that they instead summoned a babe.  A hellacious bouncing baby boy. Sweet Roland.

-Magic users and demons are intrinsically linked. For every witch there is a Chosen demon. Bonding with your chosen is said to curate a great power for both parties involved. However, summoning is not a reliable process. Just because you summoned a demon, it did not mean it was your demon.

-Chaos would ensue, witches summoning guard dogs in the form of hellish beasts in order to build their power. It would backfire. Lacking bonds, demons are insatiable, feasting on the blood, bone and power of the creatures around them.  The more magical, the more filling. It quickly became outlawed amongst the covens to use such tactics, less they become wiped out completely.

-Swaggers mother’s were no exception. They had decidedly left their former lives in order to live one they longed for. It was sheer luck they summoned a more manageable youngster, and they spoiled Roland rotten, wanting nothing more than to see their little one happy and thriving. Even if it meant slaughtering the locals or grave robbing to keep their little boy fed. 

-And it’d worked. He was loved and sated. Able to attend school with the other children. That is until suspicion began to fly regarding their village’s disappearances. They would start again, moving to France and maintain movement to avoid problems.

-Swagger never quite fit, if not for his off accent, then for his peculiarities, which earned him ridicule in the classroom. But he excelled academically and athletically. It wasn’t until a fellow student had an unfortunate accident in chemistry class that Swagger would be pulled from school. The poor student’s face had been melted clean off. The chemicals they were using should not have been nearly as dangerous. And no one would notice that that student was a particular repeat offender in harassing Swagger.   

-When Swaggers Chosen was born into the world his hunger doubled. It became increasingly apparent that he couldn’t sustain a life in the French countryside, regardless of his mother’s support. It occurred to them that they wouldn’t be safe for much longer either. A career in warfare seemed appropriate for both his skills and dietary needs. Here, Swagger would flourish.

-Swagger is an incredibly competent soldier. Having absorbed everything he could get. Medic, demo, distance or close combat. You name it, he can do it. And he is an arrogant shit about it.

-Very playful on the field, chatty on the comms. However he can and will take over a situation, where he leads with care and efficiency.  The only reason he hasn't pursued a higher position is because he knows it will take away from his time in the field. He could give a fuck less for the paperwork involved. 

-Anything is a weapon in Swagger’s hands. Steel chairs, power tools, briefcase, pool ball, piano, wave runner, toilet, toilet water. That one incident with the zamboni.  Has been known to use his own rifle as a fucking warhammer when ammo is gone.

-Appears to be everywhere and nowhere. Seemingly popping up out of nowhere to help out any of his fellow teammates where he absolutely showboats. 

-Regularly rubs his skills in on the field. “You need me, don’t pretend” he purrs in his french lilt. 

-Annoys the absolute piss out of Nikto and König, frankly corvid behavior. Pokes at them just enough to get a snap before taking off with a chuckle. 

-Nosey. Not gossipy, no. Nosey He has the dirt on everyone, simply because he likes having the information. Will totally feign ignorance about some hot gossip, even though he found out about it days ago from someone else. 

-Is generally liked by the team, he can be conceited, but most have come to tolerate it. Actually gets along with Declan. He’s besties with Stilleto.

-World’s biggest sore loser. Can't play board games for this reason. Not since he got into a fist fight with Declan over Uno. Will accuse everyone of cheating. 

-Can't sit normally, likes to perch in high places. Absolutely kicks his legs like a toddler.

-Has freckles.

-Being a demon, Swagger is equipped with a “true” form he can shift into at will. Some of these elements peak through when he is particularly compromised or starving. Eyes that resemble that of a bearded vulture. He remains hidden under his mask and layers.

-Swagger’s mask became a necessity. The farther he falls, the harder it is to control himself. Noxious fumes and acidic fluid spills from his mouth in the heat of it all. The mask is to keep the fumes in rather than out.  These fumes can range from mild sedatives, psychedelics, or poisons.

-As stated above Swagger’s diet primarily consists of flesh and bone. He can eat processed animal meats or long dead corpses if he absolutely has to. But there is an emotional element to his feeding. Something about the residual emotion buried in the bones of a fresh kill is more filling. The more magical the better. Has been seen snacking on teeth like fucking m&ms.

-Has been found more than once painting himself in blood. For scent camouflage he claims. He’s certainly not obsessed with it aha.

-Has been confident since the day his mother’s told him stories of Chosen pairs. He always knew he would find his. He would just need to be patient. When the time came, he would devour them. Rightfully take back control of himself. That is until he meets her…..

[ms-m-astrologer]

Transiting Ceres enters retrograde zone

Timeline (current events in bold)

Thursday, February 29, 07:44 UT - transiting Ceres enters pre-retrograde shadow, 7°29’ Capricorn

Wednesday, May 15, 05:36 UT - transiting Ceres stations retrograde, 21°33’ Capricorn

Monday, August 26, 07:39 UT - transiting Ceres stations direct, 7°29’ Capricorn

Monday, November 11, 22:43 UT - transiting Ceres exits post-retrograde shadow, 21°33’ Capricorn

===+++===

Caveat: this may not have much of an impact on you unless Ceres is prominent in your birth chart. She’d have to be in close aspect to the Sun, Moon, &/or an angle (Ascendant, IC, Descendant, MC), possibly with strong Virgo &/or 6th House energy.

Since I have been fighting and losing to the migraines for about the last ten days, here is an excerpt about Ceres Rx from Martin Bulgerin’s web site biopscinst.com:

When the Great Mother Ceres turns retrograde on us, the entire notion of mothering and nurturance is up for grabs in our lives. This goes far beyond "just children", since Ceres describes the ways we give to and receive loving support from others. You're being forced to reconsider what you really care about. Some of our "babies" must be allowed to grow up and fly the coop if our attachments are holding them back. It's also important to recognize whether you are rejecting or filtering out the love others are extending to you during these cycles. Sometimes, the most cruel person in your life is yourself. It's time to reconnect with the web of life and loving.

Some of the problems with any planet moving through Capricorn are related to a belief that the more outward achievements we have, the more loveable that makes us. “If I get the top grades - that promotion - marriage to so-&-so,” like that. Sort of a social-climbing vibe. Integrity shouldn’t be equated with high worldly status.

Another problem happens when we insist on doing things “the way we’ve always done them.” That kind of thinking brought on the US’s “Dust Bowl” in the 1930s - an insistence on using farming techniques that weren’t suitable or sustainable for that climate and environment.

And there’s always the stench of government/corporate control, in this sign.

Procreative sexuality, parenting, children, family - the so-called “traditional family values” with the white straight men in charge. Trying to “keep up with the Joneses” - also makes me think of those appalling “neighborhood covenants” in the US, where (for example) you can’t have a clothesline, or paint your house any color but beige, and so forth.

Child & elder care, nurturing professions - regimentation, following the rules, going up the “proper” chain of command. Sort of a perfunctory, general approach without giving much (if any) thought to individual needs.

Agriculture, growing cycles, food - “agribusiness” coming into focus. Could be some issues with hoarding.

Concern for domesticated animals - not so much just puppies and kitties, but piggies and chickens and cows as well. Concern with the “factory farm” approach, not just the meat “production” (UGH) but the puppy mills, etc.

Most of the aspects Ceres makes will happen with the personal planets and the other Lady Asteroids - therefore most of the work to be done will be on a personal level. “Think globally, act locally.” (The exception is Ceres squaring Chiron, which I’ll discuss in the list of aspects.) As we move through these aspects, we should give progressively longer “leeways” on either side of the dates. Perhaps allow a few days for the first one, and up to a week for the last.

Tuesday, March 12 - Ceres/Capricorn trine Juno Rx/Pisces, 11°21’. Starting off with good intentions, anyway! A lot of mutual caring and concern. “Let’s get through this together.”

Saturday, March 16 - Ceres/Capricorn square Mercury/Aries, 12°27’. First of three - due to Mercury’s retrograde cycle. Be alert for problems with communicating your own needs, and listening to others. Probably not a brand-new problem or situation.

Saturday, March 23 - Ceres/Capricorn sextile Venus/Pisces, 14°08’. Can be a good time to get pregnant, so if that isn’t on your agenda then triple-wrap that thing. Very creative energy. We want to pretty up our homes.

Sunday, March 31 - Ceres/Capricorn square North Node/Aries and South Node/Libra, 16°05’. Problems around taking care of ourselves and our own needs, versus taking care of other people to “keep the peace.” If you habitually deny yourself, it comes back to bite you in the butt.

Saturday, April 6 - Ceres/Capricorn square Sun/Aries, 17°26’. Who’s the boss? We really want to be independent and not bound by familial/tribal expectations.

Tuesday, April 16:

Ceres/Capricorn square Mercury Rx/Aries, 19°11’

Ceres/Capricorn sextile Mars/Pisces, 19°12’

The second Ceres-Mercury square, but this time there’s a helpful sextile to Mars. (Also a fertile sextile, so watch out for that.) We can listen compassionately.

Sunday, April 21 - Ceres/Capricorn square Venus/Aries, 19°52’. If you need a break, ask for one! It’s okay to take some time off. Similarly, the person being taken care of could get a little testy about it.

Wednesday, April 24 - Ceres/Capricorn square Chiron/Aries, 20°22’. First of three. Look for the imbalances between self-care, and how much you take care of others. It isn’t necessarily us being the heroic super-nurturer - sometimes we don’t pull our own weight.

Tuesday, May 7 - Ceres/Capricorn square Mercury/Aries, 21°21’. Third of three. By now we should be expressing our needs in a clear, straightforward way.

Saturday, May 11 - Ceres/Capricorn trine Sun/Taurus, 21°30’. We identify strongly with our familial/tribal role, and we want practical, effective ways to carry out those responsibilities. We can use this to set realistic intentions going into Ceres’ actual retrograde.

[scotianostra]

On November 28th 1666 the King's army defeated Covenanting forces at the Battle of Rullion Green in the Pentlands.

This post connects with last Sundays one on General Tam Dalyell. Although not a story from history that you might remember from your school days, the Battle of Rullion Green near Penicuik played a huge part in the history of our country, and is seen as a decisive step towards establishing Presbyterianism as the form of governance of the Church of Scotland and the supremacy of local democracy over the divine right of Kings.

The Pentland Rising was in the context of the long-running government campaign to impose Episcopalianism upon Scotland.

The uprising began in the Ayrshire town of Dalry. The long march of the Covenanters started with the rescue of an old man in the town from soldiers tormenting him. The group gathered followers en route to Dumfries, where they captured the military commander appointed to suppress Dumfries and Galloway. However, they failed to get support in central Scotland and found the gates of Edinburgh barred.

They were retreating back to the west when overtaken by the Royalist army under General Dalyell at Rullion Green.

From a peak of perhaps 3000 men the force had diminished by half at Colinton, and then further dispersed as the group headed home towards Galloway. The rebels included experienced professional soldiers as well as ordinary folk, and were commanded by Colonel James Wallace of Auchens. They decided to hold a parade and review by Colonel Wallace at Rullion Green in the Pentland Hills.

General Tam Dalyell of the Binns was with a force in Currie, and cut through the Pentland Hills to confront the rebels and crush this uprising. The survivors were treated with cruelty; 15 were hanged, drawn and quartered, and several, including two boys of 18, were tortured first with the boot, a type of torture which inflicted great pain on the victim's feet, with boiling water. (See more below)

Insurrection and suppression continued. After the Covenanters’ final defeat at the Battle of Bothwell Bridge in 1679, prisoners were penned up in the open air in Greyfriars Kirkyard for five months on starvation rations before execution or transportation as slaves.

The Boot Torture

This type of torture, which inflicted great pain on the victim's feet, was often used, as the victim rarely, if ever, died from it. It consisted of high boots, made of spongy leather, that were placed on the victim's feet. The victim was tied near a fire by the boots. Next, boiling water was poured on the boots, which seeped through the leather boots and dissolved the flesh and bone of the victim's feet. In some cases, the torture administrators add wood inside the boot and pour oil in as well. This action expands the wood and cuts off circulation to the foot.

Since the magnitude of the torture depended on the magnitude of the crime the felon committed, a serious criminal would sometimes receive a foot press torture as well. This consisted of horizontal iron plates that, by use of a crank, would tighten around the foot to cut the flesh and break the bones of the foot. Sometimes, sharp spikes were added to the press, and a drill would cause a hole in the center of the felon's instep. This very painful torture method was popular because it forced criminals to answer questions or endure horrific pain, without causing death.

Pics are of the memorial in the Pentlands, which I am glad to see has been cleaned up having been a bit overgrown of late.

[nostalgic-doodles]

Even though Halloween has ended, I will always be in my witch era

Support Your Local Coven sweatshirt, crystal wand, and gothic witch hat are from Spirit Halloween

[possumcollege]

Howdy boos and ghouls and... they-thempires? Non-binar-my of darkness? I'm trying.

Spooky Season is almost here. It could be lurking just outside your field of vision as you bush your teeth. Close that medicine cabinet and see - 😱 The Kickstarter for Revenge of Hallowzine!

This 5th edition of our Halloween horror comic anthology features fantastic tricks and treats from enough local artists to fill 14.5 traditional horse costumes! Lurking inside, you'll find dire dolls, creepy cryptids, and at least one werewolf with a southern accent. I drew that last one!

It's a fiendish labor of love and it's friiightfully under-fuuunded! 👻💰☠ Say it with me: Capitalism was the REAL monster all along!

We need help to get this ghost train full of independent artists rolling. If you'd like to support our little cartoon reign of terror, please consider throwing us a few bolts of financial lightning to get this creature off the slab, or share the campaign with your comic coven!

Send me proof of a donation of $10+ and I'll sketch you a thank-you post with an animal of your choice, dressed up as a second animal of your choice.

Send me the receipt for donation of $100+ and I'll sketch you a really smutty version of the same thing.