#utah witch

[entangledwitch]

oh btw this is the wild bunch of misfit witches i hang out with, if anyone is curious

we're a diverse group with many different traditions and we like to combine them for our celebrations, both in public and in private. we are fiercely pro-LGBT+, antidiscrimination, and neurodiversity-affirming.

if you're around Utah and you wanna attend a Beltane or Samhain ritual, tune in for a monthly pagan Sunday service based on the Wheel of the Year (which we livestream on fb for the general public), or just get to know/hang out with some really awesome folks, check us out!

[anthony-usa-today]

The Perceptual Caricature

☀️Letting the repetitive narratives of the deranged general public create their not based on reality wanted public political figure

☀️ The Perceptual Caricature can not appear in any public settings that is not scripted, set-up, controlled and orchestrated

☀️ The Free Press is eliminated, free society is eliminated with all government chosen orchestrations of a faux reality

☀️ This is exactly European Union government playbook methods & tactics

[jayelle0kay]

••• somehow i still want you more •••

*fresh out the shower hair*

[the-fox-jawed-witch]

Hi, I saw a comment on a video about some woman stealing crystals from a witch shop near me (the shop is called Meadows Crystals, in Lehi Utah), saying that you can lower the vibration of the crystal and that it won't work the same way after..... is that true?

Also they were talking about karma, what do you think of that?

Oh! I saw that, too! (I'm based in Utah as well).

I don't believe that it will lower the vibration perse. Crystals have spiritual correspondences of course, but I think in order to "activate" a crystal, an intention has to be put into it.

Like you have a stove, right? But the stove doesn't work until you turn it on. Same with crystals. Crystals have energy, but that energy doesn't really do much unless you turn it on.

So no, the lady stealing the crystals isn't turning them on, so the vibration isn't being messed with.

As for "karma," I think about it the same way as chakras.

[mamamoon92]

🖤✨

[thewritehag]

My blog is called

Heresy Mormony Witchery

And it's barely off the ground, but I'm having fun so far. I've been drawing some icons that signal to what each post and page pertain. It's like a sticker page with each sticker being related to myself, growing up LDS, Mormon Mysticism, Utah and Mormon cultural critique (respectively), and my witchcraft.

Pictured, clockwise from the upper left corner: Flaming Jack O' Lantern, honeycomb with eyes, Mormon butterfly, SLC temple sunstone, a witch standing on the moon in a familiar pose, preserved toes, spirit board planchet with curious markings, and my interpretation of the Bear Lake Monster's head made of marshmallow jello salad.

Like, I said, I'm having fun.

[arcadechan]

The Fool Supreme, Witch at the Open Door; Greased Hinge, Charter Delgado. She's partially blind, has a magical affinity for doorways, and is t4t married to a woman named Willowjay Utah. She serves the coven of M.F. Dogwood, home of the Fool.

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Who are the people In this painting?

From left to right:

Kellia Tsaltzé, a suspected witch burned in 1502

Marguerrite Sandoz, a suspected witch burned in 1516

(reclining) Jaspara Vemennt, a suspected poison-maker, died 1611

(background) Daphni Meropi, Kylu Ferron, and Crysti Ferron, executed for attempting to attend college courses in 1809

Venus Veihu, hanged for failing to baptize her baby Catholic in 1912

Mathilde Reinniu, burned for attempting to vote in Utah in 2004

And center:

Ted Williams, he was the GOAT

Also pictured are several baby/child corpses and bats, which are not based on historical personages, except for the last bat on the right who was named Roy.

[anthony-usa-today]

[fanfictionalraven]

Faithfully

Title: Faithfully

Song Inspiration: Faithfully by Journey

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, other SPN characters

Word Count: 4, 904

Warnings: Pregnancy

Author's Note: This was an anonymous request. Such a beautiful song and so perfect for Dean. Thanks for the idea Anon!!

Highway run into the midnight sun,

Wheels go ‘round and ‘round, you’re on my mind,

Restless hearts, sleep alone tonight,

Sendin’ all my love along the wire.

“Another?” The bartender asks Dean, pointing to the beer he’d been nursing for a while.

“No thanks. Work tomorrow,” Dean tells him, tossing some cash onto the bar. He and Sam had rolled into town a little earlier in the day. Some case Sam had found; a witch or shifter or…something. Dean couldn’t remember. 

“Leaving so soon?” A sultry voice asks. Dean looks over to find a gorgeous, young blonde sliding onto the booth beside him. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and leans forward to highlight her ample breasts. A hand reaches for his knee but Dean catches her wrist.

“Sorry, Sweetheart. Not happening,” he tells her, letting her go. She rolls her eyes and stands, moving to her next target. Dean laughs lightly, shaking his head.

A few years ago, that would have been all the invitation he’d have needed. They would have wandered out to the Impala, maybe made it back to her place for a night of meaningless sex, and he would have returned to Sam first thing in the morning, satisfied. But all that had changed almost a year ago.

As he heads out of the bar and into the cold, he pulls his phone out, smiling at the screen. The picture that greets him is one of his favorites. It’s from the small “vacation” the two of you had taken only a couple months ago. It was one of Bobby’s old safe houses he’d told Dean about; a beautiful little cabin out by a lake. Dean had snapped the picture of you sitting on the small dock, feet dangling off the edge. You’d teased him about pursuing a career in photography after seeing it.

He finds your name with ease and calls as he climbs into the driver’s seat of his car. It rings twice before you pick up.

“Hey,” you answer. Dean smiles immediately at your voice.

“Hey,” he replies. “Bad time?”

“For you? Never,” you laugh lightly. He smiles even wider at your laugh.

“Still in Utah?” The familiar sound of the Impala’s engine roaring to life comes through the phone.

“Yea. Found the nest though. Taking it out tonight,” you tell him, as you lean back against your car.

“On your own?” Dean asks, voice laced with concern.

“No, Dean,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I’m not stupid, ya know?”

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N,” he says. “Just…you know…”

“Awwww. You worried about me, Winchester?” You tease him, pushing off the car and walking to your trunk.

“Always,” he admits, almost too quietly for you to hear. Almost. Your smile softens as you open the trunk, glancing around at your weapons.

“You just calling to check up on me?” You ask, pulling a machete out to check the blade.

“No…just…missed you,” he confesses. You swing the machete around quickly to test it out. “Haven’t seen you since…”

“The cabin,” you finish. “I know. I miss you too.”

The two of you had been off and on for the majority of the time you’d known each other. It had mostly been a friends with benefits situation until last year. Suddenly, you were way more on than off. It was starting to feel like a real relationship. You hadn’t slept with anyone else and Dean said he hadn’t. You trusted him, of course.

“I’ve been thinking…” Dean starts, seemingly getting the subject away from…feelings.

“Haven’t hurt yourself, have ya?” You ask. You can practically hear Dean roll his eyes.

“Will you shut up? I’m trying to be serious here,” he tells you. You laugh and slam the trunk closed, machete in hand. Your cousin’s car pulls up, parking next to your own. You smile and wave at her.

“Serious. Right. Sorry. Go ahead,” you say.

“I was thinking you should come to the bunker,” he says. You smile and roll your eyes.

“I was planning to come by after this,” you tell him. He sighs and cuts the engine off, having reached the motel.

“No, Y/N. That’s not what I meant,” he says. You hold up a finger to your cousin, asking her to give you a minute when she gets out of the car. “You should move…into the bunker…with me.” You’re mid swing on the machete when he asks, causing you to freeze. The machete slips from your hand, landing near your cousin.

“Jesus, Y/N!!” She snaps. You wave a hand at her in apology as you walk away. 

“What are you saying, Dean?” You asks. He lets out a chuckle. 

“I’m saying that…I’ve really started to hate sleeping alone, sleeping without you. I hate waking up without you,” he starts. “Now, I don’t wanna tie you down or anything. Do your hunts, whatever you want. I just want the bunker to be…home.” You hold the phone away for a moment and breathe deeply. You were mere moments from clearing a vampire nest. You weren’t about to cry. Returning the phone to your ear, you can’t help but smile.

“Dean,” you say. “I’ll go anywhere you go. You’re already my home.” Dean smiles and closes his eyes for a second, thanking anyone who was listening.

They say that the road ain’t no place to start a family,

Right down the line, it’s been you and me,

And lovin’ a music man ain’t always what it’s supposed to be,

Oh, girl, you stand by me,

I’m forever yours,

Faithfully.

You walk into the kitchen of the bunker one morning, stretching. Sam’s already sitting at the table, his laptop open in front of him. You smile at him widely and walk over, kissing his cheek quickly.

“Morning, Sammy,” you tell him. He looks at you and laughs lightly.

“Good morning,” he says, watching as you walk over to the counter, humming. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, swaying to the music in your head. “You’re awful perky this morning.”

“Am I?” You ask, glancing back at him. He laughs and nods. You shrug, leaning against the counter. 

“I guess you two had a good Valentine's Day?” He asks. 

“We had a great Valentine’s Day,” you laugh. 

“Well, I’m glad,” Sam tells you, looking back at his computer. Dean comes in, a smile to rival yours plastered on his face. He walks over and kisses you quickly before getting his own coffee. Sam looks at the two of you and starts to laugh. “Is that a hickey??” He asks. You and Dean exchange glances before Dean moves your hair from your shoulder, examining your neck briefly. He smirks.

“Looks like it,” he says. You laugh and shrug at Sam.

“I said it was great,” you tell him. Dean smiles and pulls you in for another kiss, your arms snaking around his neck.

“I found a case. If either of you care,” Sam announces. Dean sighs as he let you go and turns to his brother, taking a drink of his coffee. “Stacy Altman, 19 year old babysitter from Hudson, Ohio was murdered last night,” he says. Dean nods slightly.

“Oh, that blows. But if her name’s not Amara, how is that us?” He asks. You lean against Dean and he wraps his arm around your waist.

“Because her heart was ripped out,” Sam tells you both. You grimace and Dean nods.

“On Valentine’s Day? What is that, like an ironic werewolf? Alright, we’ll check it out. But first, I need bacon.” Dean gives your waist a squeeze then looks down at you. “You coming?��

“Think I’ll hang back, keep working this Amara thing,” you tell him, going to leave the kitchen. Dean smirks and gives your ass a quick smack. You let out a squeak of surprise and look back at him as you go into the hallway. You just hear Sam mutter something about the two of you being disgusting as you head back towards your bedroom.

Glancing over your shoulder, you close the door behind you before locking yourself in the bathroom. You look at yourself in the mirror, take a deep breath, then pick up the stick you had left on the counter earlier.

“Please be negative,” you mumble a quick prayer.

You and Dean had only been together for about a year. You were both hunters. God’s sister was currently on the loose and very much out to end the world. This had to be the absolute worst timing. The two of you hadn’t even discussed starting a family. It certainly wasn't on your radar and you couldn’t imagine it was on Dean’s either.

You’d bought the pregnancy test a few days ago when your period failed to make its monthly appearance. You hadn’t mentioned anything to Dean yet, didn’t want him freaking out over nothing. Cause that’s all this was, of course. Nothing.

The timer you had set on your phone goes off and you nearly jump out of your skin. You flip the test over and…

**

About a day later, Dean pulls the Impala into the garage of the bunker. He sighs as he cuts the car off and lays his head against the steering wheel. Sam looks at him and smiles a little.

“Dean, it’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like you cheated on her,” he says. Dean shakes his head slightly.

“Doesn’t feel different,” he says. “We just had this great day, things were going so well…”

“She won’t be upset, Dean. Come on,” he says, getting out of the car. Dean frowns then gets out as well. They both get their bags and then head to their respective bedrooms. Dean tosses his bag into the corner then sits on the edge of the bed, running his hands over his face.

You make your way down to the room nervously, wringing your hands. You’d been practicing your speech ever since you’d read the test. You had it all planned out and were absolutely prepared to tell Dean. That was until he’d told you they were headed home. The minute you’d received that text, your nerves had gotten the better of you. You had been running every possible bad scenario, each one worse than the last.

“Dean?” You ask, stepping into the bedroom. You frown when you see him so distraught. “What’s wrong??” You ask. He pats the spot next to him and you bite your lip as you walk over. He knows. He already knows and he’s breaking up with me. You sit down next to him and he turns to face you.

“This case…it was a witch, a curse…it was passed by kissing. I kissed the woman who had it and got it passed to me so she was safe,” he explains. You let out a breath and take his hands in your own.

“Dean, did you think I’d be upset about that?” You ask with a laugh. He sighs and shakes his head.

“I’m not finished,” he tells you. Your smile falls slightly and he looks at your hands. “The curse, it takes the form of your deepest, darkest desire and then that person or whatever kills you.”

“I’m…guessing that wasn’t me,” you say. He shakes his head. “Amara?” You already knew before he said anything else. From the moment she’d been freed from her cage, she had some weird connection to Dean. It had only been a few weeks since he told you that she’d kissed him and he couldn’t help but kiss her back. It stung, sure, but you knew it wasn’t Dean.

“I don’t want this, Y/N. I don’t want her. I just can’t shake this hold she has on me. Sitting here with you right now, I want nothing more than to kill her,” he starts quickly. “But when I’m around her, I can’t do anything.” You let his hands go and take his face gently, raising it up to meet yours. You press a soft, gentle kiss to his lips.

“I’m not mad at you, Dean. I know you love me. We’ll shake this Amara thing soon enough and get back to normal,” you assure him. “You and me. And…whoever else comes along.” He looks up at you, confused. You smile at him and stand, walking over to the desk. It isn’t until now that Dean notices the small gift bag sitting on it. “It’s a little late for Valentine’s now but…” You shrug and hand him the bag. He raises a skeptical eyebrow at you before pulling the pink and blue tissue paper out of it. He looks into the bag, then up at you quickly.

“Is this…” He stops before sliding the contents of the bag into his hand. His hands shake as he flips it around, trying to find the little screen for confirmation.

Pregnant.

“Oh my god,” he says, staring down at the test in his hand. “This is…”

A mistake. The worst possible timing. Not what I want at all. You brace yourself against the desk behind you, waiting for the death blow.

“This is…incredible,” Dean says finally, looking up at you. There are tears in his eyes threatening to spill over but his face changes the second his eyes meet yours. “Are you okay?” He asks, jumping up quickly. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he looks you over. “Y/N, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Which…is really saying something for us.”

“You’re happy,” you say quietly, looking at him. His brow furrows in confusion as he takes in your state.

“What? Of course I’m happy!! I mean…” He stops and shrugs. “Timing could be better but…a baby!!” He lets out a laugh and lifts you into a tight hug, spinning you around the room. You squeal and laugh as well, tears of sheer joy and relief streaming down your cheeks. “I’m gonna be a dad!! Sammy!!” He calls out, setting you on your feet. He grabs your hand and pulls you down the hallway quickly. 

Circus life under the big-top world,

We all need the clowns to make us smile,

Through space and time, always another show,

Wonderin’ where I am lost without you,

3…2…1…*beep, beep, beep*

You stare into the microwave as the light goes out. Popping the door open, you grab the bottle and test the milk on your wrist. Perfect temp. You turn to go feed your three month old son and accidentally send the stack of neglected and dirty dishes crashing to the floor. 

“Dammit,” you curse, setting the bottle on the counter. Kneeling down, you start to pick up the pieces of the shattered dishes and old food.

“Y/N?” Mary asks, stepping into the room. “What happened?” She comes over quickly to help. You glance up at her and shake your head before hissing in pain. You’d managed to cut your hand on a shard of glass. “Oh, Y/N.” Falling back against the counter behind you, your emotions overwhelm you.

“I can’t do this anymore, Mary,” you cry.

Dean and Sam were missing. They had taken on Lucifer once again and this time he was possessing the president. That was almost two months ago. For two months you've been struggling to take care of your newborn son on your own. Sure, you had Cas and Mary but it wasn’t the same. D.J. needed his father.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I…what do you need me to do?” She asks, handing you a dish towel. Wrapping it around your cut hand, you glance back up at the bottle.

“Could you feed D.J. for me? I just…I need a minute,” you tell her. 

“Of course,” she says. She gives your arm a quick, reassuring squeeze before leaving you alone in the kitchen.

You lay your head back against the counter and close your eyes, allowing the tears to fall once again as you contemplate life as a single mother. You knew this life was risky, of course. You knew there was always a chance one of you wouldn’t come back from a hunt. You just didn’t expect it to be two months into actually being parents.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Cas asks, when he sees you. You shake your head, eyes still squeezed closed as you cry.

Cas frowns as he walks over, taking in the disaster that is the kitchen. He hesitates for a moment before carefully sitting down next to you. You lay your head over on his shoulder as the sobs rake through your body. Cas shifts awkwardly and you feel his arm come around your shoulders, comfortingly. The pain alleviates in your hand and you pull it from the towel, perfectly healed.

“Thank you,” you mumble between sobs.

“I wish there was more I could do,” he says. You wipe at your cheeks and shake your head.

“Please stop blaming yourself. You followed the plan,” you tell him, laying your head back on his shoulder. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, you don’t know how long. Eventually, you sit up and find a clean part of the partially bloodied towel to wipe your face. You rise from the floor and look at the mess at your feet before taking in the rest of the kitchen. You’d really let things slide lately. You sigh and shake your head, going to get the trash can. Mary comes back into the kitchen.

“No,” she says. You stop and look at her.

“What?” You ask, confused.

“You need to go get some rest. Take a shower. Take a nap. Refresh and reset,” she tells you, taking the trash can from your hand.

“Mary, there’s too much to do,” you respond, looking around at the kitchen again. It wasn’t just the kitchen either. You knew the library, war room, and bedrooms needed your attention as well.

“Castiel and I will take care of it,” she says, sending a pointed look to the angel as he gets up from the floor. He nods, looking at you.

“Of course,” he says. Looking between the two, you realize there’s no point in arguing. You were absolutely exhausted, barely able to get any sleep the last two months. Mary smiles at you, reassuringly.

“Shower. Bed,” she tells you. You sigh and nod, reaching for the baby monitor but Mary snatches it up quickly. “I’ve got him too.”

“Okay,” you surrender, holding your hands up.

You head down the hall and steal a quick peek in at your son, sleeping soundly in his crib. Continuing down the hall, you go into yours and Dean’s bedroom, closing the door behind you. One hour-long, steaming hot shower later, you slip into one of Dean’s t-shirts then under the covers. You don’t expect sleep to overwhelm you as quickly as it does. Your last thoughts are the same as they’ve been for the last two months.

Where are you, Dean?

And being apart ain’t easy on this love affair,

Two strangers learn to fall in love again,

I get the joy of rediscovering you,

Oh, girl, you stand by me,

I’m forever yours,

Faithfully.

Dean smiles politely at the waitress, taking his order. She was clearly flirting with him even though he’d told her about you and D.J. She walks off to put his order in, dinner for him and Sam to go, and he pulls his phone out to call you. It rings three times before you pick up.

“Hey,” you say, smiling. You’re sitting in the library, having just gotten D.J. down for the night.

“I miss you,” he says with a sigh. “This waitress won’t leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry. Is Dean Winchester complaining about being hit on?” You laugh. He shakes his head as he glances around, his eyes landing on the mechanical bull.

“I told her I had someone back home and a kid. She’s still flirting,” he says, watching as someone gets thrown off. He lets out a chuckle. “I was better than that,” he mumbles.

“What?” You ask.

“There’s a…a mechanical bull,” he tells you. You throw your head back, laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“I would pay to see that,” you tease him.

“Hey. I was awesome,” he assures you.

“Man. I can’t believe I missed that,” you say, still laughing. He smiles and shakes his head before someone catches his attention.

“Babe, I gotta let you go. Think I just got a lead on our case,” he says, standing up quickly. Your smile slips slightly and you nod.

“Be careful,” you tell him before he hangs up. You sigh and lean back in the chair.

**

“Dean’s been hexed. He’s losing his memory.”

That was the call you’d received from Sam earlier in the day. He thought it might be best if you were there to help. Thankfully, Mary had been in the neighborhood so she could keep D.J. for you. You’d peeled out of the garage, tires squealing as you headed for Arkansas, a 7 and a half hour drive. You make it in six.

You whip into the parking lot of the motel Sam had given you the address to and park next to the Impala. Grabbing your bag, you make for the door of the guys’ room and knock quickly. However, it isn’t Sam or Dean who answer the door but Rowena. Your shock gives way to anger almost immediately.

“Did you do this??” You snap, stepping up to her quickly. Her eyes widen in surprise before she smiles.

“Afraid not, dear,” she says. “But I am here to help.”

“Help? Are you kidding?” You ask, looking at Sam as he steps up behind Rowena.

“I know, I know. But...I didn’t know where else to go,” he explains. You sigh and glance around, spotting Dean sitting on one of the beds. He’s laughing at whatever he’s watching on the TV. He looks over and his eyes lock with yours before he smiles widely.

“Hi,” he says, standing. He remembered you. You smile as you walk over to him.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” You ask, your hands resting on his arms. He looks down at your hands then back at you.

“Much better now that you're here,” he says, his smile turning into a smirk. “I’m, ugh…I’m…”

“Dean,” Sam says, frowning.

“Yea. I’m Dean,” he says, introducing himself. Your smile fades as you take a step back. He didn’t remember you. It was worse than you’d thought. Sam’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder and you shake your head.

“I need some air,” you say quietly before leaving the room. Dean frowns as you go and Sam sighs, ushering him to the bathroom to talk. He explains the situation to him, reminding him of everything, everyone. Dean runs a hand over his face.

“So, after everything…that’s it. This is what nails me,” he says. Sam shakes his head quickly.

“No. No, no. Dean. I-it,” he stops and takes a deep breath. “It’s not gonna happen, all right?” Dean looks at him and Sam can see the fear in his eyes.

“Well, you just told me my whole life story. And I gotta be honest, man. I…I can feel it, slipping out of my head. I mean ganking monsters is one thing. But this…” He covers his face with his hands. “I forgot Y/N and my own son.”

“We’ll figure it out. We will,” Sam assures his older brother before standing up. He leaves the bathroom and finds you outside the door.

“Can I?” You ask, pointing to it. Sam nods and steps out of the way. You push the door open slightly and peek in. Dean is standing over the sink, staring at himself in the mirror.

“Okay. My name is Dean Winchester. Sam is my brother. Ugh, Mary Winchester is my mom. Cast - Cas is my best friend. Y/N is my wi…girlfr…” He stops and you sigh before stepping into the bathroom. 

“Girlfriend,” you provide. He looks over at you then down, embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you tell him, leaning back against the door. He walks over quickly and wraps you up in a tight hug as though clinging to your very memory for dear life.

“I don’t remember what he looks like,” he says quietly. You can hear the crack in his voice, the emotion choking him up. You’re fighting tears yourself now.

“Just like you. Your eyes and everything,” you say.

“What’s D.J. even stand for?” He asks, still clinging onto you.

“Dean Junior,” you tell him. He nods and looks down at you. “You didn’t really want to name him after you but I insisted. Cause I want him to be just like his father.” He smiles a little before leaning his forehead against yours. “We’re gonna fix you, Dean. I swear.” There’s a knock on the door and you glance back.

“Y/N, we need to go,” Sam says.

“I’m coming,” you call back to him. You look up at Dean once more and take his face in your hands. You stand up on your toes, closing the distance between the two of you, and kiss him. You had to tell yourself this wouldn’t be the last kiss the two of you would share. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he tells you. You can’t be sure if he actually means it or if he’s saying it back to spare your feelings at this point. Did he even remember how much you two loved each other? You smile at him before leaving the bathroom and following Sam out the door. Dean rushes out behind you to the desk inside the room. Rowena watches as he jots down a quick note and sticks it in his front pocket. He glances at her and she raises an eyebrow. “Just a reminder…”

**

The three of you get back to the bunker later the next day, Dean’s memories restored. Mary meets you all in the garage, D.J. in her arms. Dean practically bursts from the car and rushes over, taking his son. Mary smiles as she hands him over.

“Glad you’re better,” she says, patting his shoulder. Dean smiles at her before kissing D.J.’s forehead.

“Can’t believe I forgot him,” he says quietly. You smile as you walk past, heading towards the bedroom to put your bags away. Dean watches you go before looking at his mother. “I need your help.” She nods.

“Of course. With what?” She asks. He pulls a piece of paper from his front pocket.

“I don’t remember writing it but…it’s my handwriting. And I mean…” He trails off as he hands the paper to her. She reads it and her eyes widen before looking back up at him.

A few minutes later, Dean comes down to the bedroom and leans against the door frame, watching you. You’re busy taking the clothes from both of your go bags and putting them into the hamper to take care of later. You glance back and smile.

“I figured you’d still be spending time with D.J.”

“Wanted to spend time with you,” he says, walking in. He closes the door before walking over and wrapping his arms around you. You smile as you slip your arms around his neck. He leans in and kisses you gently, his hands sliding over your waist slowly. He pulls away too soon and you lean in again. He laughs lightly. “Hold on.”

“I don’t really want to,” you laugh.

“I wanna give you something,” he says. You raise an eyebrow at him as he reaches into his pocket. He pulls a folded piece of paper out and holds it up between the two of you. “I wrote this at some point during the whole…hexed thing.” You take it, giving him a skeptical look. He seems nervous and you can’t figure out why. You unfold the piece of paper slowly.

Dean. If you survive this, marry Y/N.

It was scratched onto the paper quickly and sloppily but it was for sure Dean’s handwriting. You can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips as you look back up at Dean. He’s watching you, trying to read your face, as he reaches into his pocket once again. This time he produces a ring.

“Oh my god,” you whisper.

“I, ugh…I thought I was going to have to save up to buy a ring but,” he stops and shrugs. “Mom gave me hers. Didn’t even ask. Said she wanted you to have it.”

“Oh my god,” you say again, swallowing thickly.

“Marry me, Y/N?” He asks. You take a shaky breath as the tears finally start to fall.

“Yes,” you tell him. He smiles widely and pulls you in for another kiss. This time you pull away too soon, holding your left hand up. “I want my ring.” He laughs lightly as he looks at it.

“Dad had it inscribed. I didn’t know that. Mom just showed it to me,” he says. You take it and hold it up, trying to read the inside. You smile widely as you make out the two words. They couldn’t have been more true for the two for you. He takes the ring back and slides it onto your left hand before lifting you and tossing you onto the bed.

Forever yours.

****

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

[morbidology]

Skinwalker Ranch, a remote property in northeastern Utah, has become one of the most infamous and mysterious sites of alleged paranormal activity in the United States. Spanning approximately 512 acres, the ranch has been the focus of countless stories involving UFO sightings, strange creatures, poltergeist-like phenomena, and unexplained cattle mutilations. For decades, it has attracted the attention of scientists, researchers, and enthusiasts of the unexplained, earning its place as a central figure in the lore of the paranormal.

The ranch's name is derived from the Navajo legend of the skinwalker, a malevolent witch capable of transforming into, possessing, or disguising themselves as an animal. According to Navajo folklore, skinwalkers are dangerous beings that use their shape-shifting abilities to cause harm and spread fear. The Ute tribe, who reside in the region, have long spoken of the land where the ranch is located as being cursed and avoid it whenever possible. The Utes believe that the Navajo sent skinwalkers to curse the Utes after a conflict between the two tribes, and that these entities continue to inhabit the area to this day.

The ranch first gained widespread attention in the 1990s when Terry and Gwen Sherman purchased the property in 1994. The Shermans quickly began experiencing strange and terrifying events. They reported seeing large, wolf-like creatures that were unaffected by bullets, mysterious lights in the sky, and crop circles appearing overnight. Perhaps most disturbingly, they encountered instances of cattle mutilations, with several of their livestock found dead and mutilated in ways that defied explanation—often with precise, surgical cuts and no blood at the scene.

The Shermans also described poltergeist-like activities within their home, such as objects moving on their own, strange voices, and even the sudden appearance of unfamiliar and disorienting odors. Despite their initial skepticism, the sheer volume and intensity of these experiences led the family to believe that something supernatural was at play. After only 18 months, the Shermans sold the ranch.

In 1996, Robert Bigelow, a billionaire businessman with a keen interest in the paranormal, purchased Skinwalker Ranch. Bigelow founded the National Institute for Discovery Science (NIDS), a research organization dedicated to investigating paranormal phenomena. Bigelow's team of scientists, including physicists, biologists, and other experts, spent years studying the ranch in an attempt to uncover the truth behind the strange occurrences.

Despite employing sophisticated equipment and extensive surveillance, the NIDS team was often frustrated in their efforts to capture definitive evidence. The phenomena were elusive, frequently occurring just out of view or in ways that defied scientific analysis. Nevertheless, the team documented numerous instances of high strangeness, including bizarre animal sightings, unusual electromagnetic readings, and unexplained lights and aerial phenomena. The ranch seemed to be a hotspot for what many called a "paranormal stew," with a wide range of inexplicable events occurring simultaneously.

Over the years, numerous theories have been proposed to explain the mysteries of Skinwalker Ranch. Some suggest that the area is a portal or vortex to another dimension, where entities and phenomena from other realities bleed into our own. Others believe that the ranch may be a site of advanced extraterrestrial activity, with UFOs and alien beings using the area for unknown purposes. There are also those who think that the ranch's strangeness could be the result of secret government experiments or technologies being tested in the remote location.

Skeptics, however, argue that the stories of Skinwalker Ranch are exaggerated or fabricated, fueled by a mix of folklore, psychological phenomena, and the power of suggestion. They point to the lack of concrete evidence and the often anecdotal nature of the reports as reasons to question the legitimacy of the claims.

[laundrybiscuits]

(continued from this and this)

“Yeah, I just told her to give them the cold shoulder. Don’t have to be mean or anything, just ignore ‘em a little. Play it cool. Drives girls crazy, ‘cause then they have to work to get your attention.”

Eddie stares at him. 

“Holy shit, Buckley’s gonna die alone and it’s gonna be a hundred percent your fault. That is the worst fucking advice I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Steve actually looks offended, like his honor’s been impugned. “What the hell, man? I’ve picked up like a million girls that way. I’m telling you, it works.”

“Yeah, okay, now I’m seeing why my sage advice is required for this whole endeavor. That kind of thing might fly if you’re some alpha dog prom king, but lesbians are like…giant pandas or some shit, okay? The conditions have to be precisely calibrated or they’ll just hibernate in a cave by themselves eating bamboo forever.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” says Steve. 

Eddie shrugs. “Whatever, I’m not a panda scientist. The point is…okay, let’s do a thought experiment.” Oh, this is a bad, bad idea. The Munson specialty. “Say you wanted to get a guy interested in you. How would you do it?”

“I’d just—” Steve stops, frowning. “I mean, girls usually just…laugh at guys’ jokes and stuff. Or wear, like, makeup?”

“How are you so awful at this,” says Eddie. “Jesus. I swear to god I remember you doing better with girls at school. Anyway, I didn’t ask what girls do, I asked what you’d do.”

“Shit, I don’t know. Isn’t that why I’m here?” Steve’s getting a little huffy, fidgeting. “I’d just…find a way to hang out with the guy, I guess. Laugh at his dumb jokes.”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie says patiently. “But that’s what you do with friends too, right? And when you’re walking a perilous path far from the bright streets of heterosexuality, you probably don’t want to risk being too obvious, in case you’re wrong. So you gotta just…give them an opening to let them, like, signal if they’re interested. If they’re looking for a sign, they’ll take it.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Ok, but what if they’re not interested yet? Like…sometimes girls take a while to warm up to you.”

“Cut your losses and move on.” Admittedly, Eddie’s still working on that part. 

“What? Man, I’m starting to think you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Eddie scowls at the skeptical look on Steve’s face. “Jesus, the disrespect. Why am I not telling this directly to Buckley, anyway? She’s the one in need of these hard-earned pearls of gay wisdom.”

Steve lets out a big, gusty sigh and tips his head back against the couch. “Because she said if I tried to give her any more help with dating, she’d smother me in my sleep and pin it on Dustin.”

“Attagirl,” says Eddie approvingly. 

“But obviously she still needs help, so this is like—a stealth mission. For love.”

“For love,” says Eddie. “Yeah, okay.” 

———

“Hey, can you—”

Robin whirls around at the unexpected voice and promptly trips over nothing at all, arms flailing out to avoid crashing into the library returns cart.

“Oh, shit,” says the stranger, reaching out a hand like she’s going to catch Robin’s elbow, but pulling back at the last second. “Um. Sorry.”

Robin blinks down at a girl in head-to-toe black, including dusty black combat boots. “Aren’t you hot,” she says, then wants to die. “I mean—like, just, with the heat and all, it’s a billion degrees out, I think if I tried to wear that much black I’d instantly dissolve like the Wicked Witch of the West.”

The girl stares back at her for a second, then bursts out laughing. It’s a nice laugh. 

“As if. I’m from Utah, this is nothing.”

“Oh! Utah! You’re not—are you, uh, Argyle’s girlfriend?” The way Argyle’d described her, Robin had been picturing some kind of Elvira-themed ingenue in lace, maybe smoking like a 1920s flapper. This makes more sense for a real-life teenager, though: oversized t-shirt tucked into ratty black jeans, with some cheap-looking silver jewelry tied around her neck. Her eyeliner’s heavier than anything Robin’s ever seen in Hawkins, smudging messily a little in the heat that’s apparently nothing to her. It makes her look a little bit like a panda bear, but not in a bad way.

“Not anymore.” She grimaces. “Ugh, that sounds mean. We’re, y’know, still friends and everything. I’m Eden.”

“Robin,” says Robin, gesturing at herself like a loser. “Hi.”

“Hi,” says Eden, and smiles at her.

[boymanmaletheshequel]

Crystals for Apollo

Hello tumblr witches, wizards, Druids, and magical beings! I’m starting a new series today entitled “crystals of the gods”. I am a geologist and have been collecting minerals and gems for over 15 years, and seeing as how intrinsically connected to divinity and magick crystals are, I thought I’d look into what crystals are representative of the many gods and goddesses across the worlds pantheons. For my first post, I want to try and represent a god that although I do not personally worship yet, I am in awe of: Apollo/Apollon. Let’s begin!

• Citrine

Citrine is a gemstone of wealth and positivity, and nobody meets that standard in my eyes like Apollo does! They are full of joy and character, and shine like a beacon of yellow light that citrine encompasses so well.

• Brucite

A bit of a lesser known, but gorgeous mineral, brucites Scalenohedral crystal habit reminds me of the radiance of the sun! And it’s unbeatable bright yellow color is emblematic of Apollo’s connection to the lemon like color it holds, which facilitates much joy and pride in oneself.

• Pyrite

A mineral of subtle, but positive arrogance, and a touch of pride, pyrite might be called fools gold, but it’s not foolish at all! It’s incredible natural geometry is full of the character that Apollo radiates, and it’s literal reflective properties are a perfect metaphor for how the god represents hubris, but also character and personality that makes him so unique and adored!

• Muscovite

This powerfully flashy gem, a variety of Mica, is emblematic of Apollo’s more sensitive side that is often portrayed so beautifully, and often encompassed in acts of homosexuality. Muscovite is soft, only a 2-2.5 on the MOHS scale, but that’s not a negative thing! it’s color, and it’s personality, is among the strongest gold there is!

• Scapolite

Sharp and shiny, scapolite is the perfect stone for a glossy, muscular god like Apollo. It’s yellow hues are bold and sharp, and represent his strength in battle.

• Heliodor

Named after the archetypal god of whom he is a cultural descendant of, Helios, heliodor is the definite stone of the sun, and an ancient symbol of Apollo. Beryl was prized as a luxury to the ancient Greeks and Phoenicians, and heliodor was quite rare, this is an extravagant gift that he will surely be in awe of!

• Sunstone

This should be a no-brainer, but sunstone, a species of plagioclase feldspar, is somehow even more sunny than heliodor. It’s iridescent flakes of color remind one of the divinity of the sun, and it’s epithet, Apollo. Every Apollo devotee should offer the god some sunstone if they can get their hands on it!

• Amber

Warm and joyous, amber is perfect for Apollo. It’s honey like appearance, and beautiful deep warmth evokes Apollos radiance and pride. It is ancient, like they themself, and is a perfect idol of a god of sun!

• Topaz

Orange or imperial topaz, mined in the deserts of Utah and northern Mexico under a constant sun, is the domain of Apollo! It’s juicy colors are bold and rich, and remind one of Apollo’s intense personality.

• Peridot

Beloved by Cleopatra, mistaken by her for emeralds, peridot is like the spicier, more masculine version of emerald culturally. Often found in metamorphic rock around historically active volcanic sites, it’s no wonder that Apollo is attributed to its hot and spicy nature.

• Pyromorphite

In Greek mythology, Apollo was the slayer of Python, a massive serpent whom he dispatched of in a show of strength in Delphi. Pyromorphite, with its hopper like crystal structure resembling that of snake skin, paired with its serpentine color, is a great symbol of this historic accomplishment of the great Apollo!

• Tremolite

Similarly to pyromorphite, tremolites electric green color brings serpentine energy to a shrine dedicated to Apollo, and its a rare stone that feels like a perfect symbol to his awesome strength and power!

Well, there’s a good place to start! What crystals do YOU associated with Apollo?

[filmap]

Troll 2 Claudio Fragasso. 1990

Driving Witch Rocks, Utah 84024, USA See in map

See in imdb

[muffinlance]

I've been arguing with myself for some time whether to ask you this.... This year's (2023) Book Riot Read Harder challenge includes a challenge to "Read one of your favorite author's favorite books." Since you are one of my favorite authors, would you be willing to share with the internet some of your favorite books, please? (I also plan to ask haicrescendo, so don't be alarmed if you see this on their feed, please.)

Have a selection!

Childhood Favorites:

Raptor Red: Utah raptors living their best lives <3

Christopher Pike's The Last Vampire: baby's first introduction to Indian mythology AND baby's first introduction to "how to launch things into orbit, a don't-try-this-at-home primer". Which is a lot for a short YA vampire novel to accomplish, and that's just in the first book. (Remember Me and Witch are my other favs from that author).

The Last Whales: human-made apocalypse from the perspective of whales. You know, some light childhood reading.

Dune: who doesn't like giant sand worms? With bonus Litany Against Fear.

Collegehood:

Watership Down: bunnies and mythology and bunny wars with and without mythology

Sandman: Goth!Death is best Death. The Fiddler's Green's last moments live in my head forever. Boring people with their rich internal lives go brrr. Did they do the Cuckoo storyline in the show? Did they do it good?

The Black Cauldron: classic childhood trauma read

Recenthood:

Middlegame: oh boy oh BOY do I like novel takes on time travel magic via math and wordplay

The Ballad of Black Tom: sure you can summon a world-devouring eldritch horror <3 as a treat <3 (Lone Women by the same author is also deLIGHTful)

A Deadly Education (and its associated trilogy): angry death mage tries angry-hard not to be an angry death mage. Simultaneously succeeds and fails, in equally fantastic ways. (Spinning Silver by the same author is also Very Yes.)

Murderbot: Murderbot Murderbot Murderbot

[haggishlyhagging]

The next witness was a woman from Utah who wanted to be among the witnesses because she had heard me speak both in Provo and Salt Lake. But she wished her identity to remain secret because she feared losing her job. Knowing just exactly the correctly humble and deferential tone to take with Mormon males, she was the perfect witness. I watched her in stunned amazement get those egos in the palm of her self-deprecatory little hand, and was grateful that she was willing to do what I could no longer do for any reason: play the male-female, master-servant game which so many Mormon men so much need for their egos, and without which they do not know how to relate to women at all.

The content of her statement was also unerring. She told them she taught young Mormon women in a special program for the intellectually gifted at a church-owned institution. Many of these young women, she said sadly, feel as if there is no place in the church for them, as if the church wants only women who are willing to sacrifice their talents and intellectual capabilities to full-time wife- and mother-hood, which they were not wiling to do, and that this made them unacceptable as "real women" in the church. "These young women are not dispensable," she cautioned.

"But," she continued, coming to the point, "for the past year and a half, I have been able to say to these troubled young women, 'If there's a place in the church for Sonia Johnson, there's a place for you.'" Here she paused for effect and got it. "Bishop Willis," she asked, "what am I going to say to them if you excommunicate Sonia?"

If she had stopped then, she would have left the prosecutor-judge very unsettled and impressed against his will. But sensing her advantage, she pressed it too far by pleading, "Please don't turn this into a witch-hunt!"

The conciliatory mood she had established in the room disappeared on the instant. Although I could sense that something had gone amiss, Rick had to explain to me later what it was. "She shouldn't have reminded those men of witches," he told me, and went on to explain. "Men are basically very much afraid of the spiritual powers of women; that's why they try to keep them from discovering them, from using and developing them—cut them off from the priesthood, set themselves up as women's spiritual leaders. When she said 'witch-hunt,' out of the slime of womanfear in their unconscious slithered the specter of women in power over men, and they instantly united against their age-old enemy, woman; woman as mysterious, woman as witch, woman as powerful, woman as god. I know," he concluded softly, "because I felt it in myself when she said that word, and I looked up quickly and saw what I was feeling pass simultaneously over the faces of the four men seated before us."

Even without the "witch-hunt" she could not have saved me, of course, but she might have left those who had set themselves up as my judges longer in nagging uncertainty about the wisdom of their verdict. Still, she was wonderful, and her act—for I hope it was an act—a grim reminder of all that lies ahead of women in establishing ourselves as adult human beings who do not need to fawn and grovel and coax and coo in order to be allowed to function in the world.

-Sonia Johnson, From Housewife to Heretic