#Domestic Witchcraft

[brightgnosis]

The "Domestic Magics" and What It Means (To Me) To Be A Hearthkeeper

I’m a full time «NonTrad» Homemaker- primarily due to unfortunate health circumstance, which I've now turned into an accepted and celebrated life profession for myself.

Religiously, spiritually, and magically, the Home itself is considered a sacred space to me (the third most sacred- following the Temple in all its forms, then the Garden). And since I cannot actually have children myself, I personally view the community as a substitute, and therefore as an extension of my Hearth. Community building and education, and related activities, are therefore likewise considered further extensions of these practices by proxy.

I heavily practice the traditional magical arts of Cottagecraft, Hearthcraft, Kitchencraft, and Greencraft as they're understood within the Traditional NeoWiccan religion and framework as a result; I use the parallel phrases 'Domestic Witchcraft' and 'Domestic Magics' as an umbrella to refer to a wide variety of individual subsets of Witchcraft and their related spells and rituals within my practice.

'Domestic' is defined thus:

(General) Pertaining to the home, household, household affairs, or family.

(Of A person) Devoted to home life, family life, or household affairs.

'Domestic Witchcraft' is therefore any collection of spells or rituals which have a foundation in (or around)- or an effect on- the home, as well as one’s family and guests.

Within NeoPaganism these individual practices of Cottagecraft, Hearthcraft, Kitchencraft, and Greencraft are unfortunately incorrectly conflated into one system at times. Typically under the moniker of “Cottagecraft” (or sometimes "Hearthcraft" or "Hedge Witch") as a catch-all. Personally, however, I dislike this penchant greatly as I feel each category is itself a unique specialization.

There may be overlap between each group due to the nature of sharing the same domestic focus. But they are still distinct areas of magic and focus, each. Specializing in one does not assume specialization in the others by proxy. I define each of the 'Domestic Magics' individually as follows, for this reason:

➻ Cottagecraft: A denomnative form of Domestic Witchcraft which is focused around the (general) interior of the Home and its Household inhabitants. This may include activities and spells with a heavy influence on crafting and DIY, home protection, familial harmony, household finances, budget Witchcraft, and similar things.

➻ Kitchencraft: A denomnative form of Domestic Witchcraft which is focused in and around the Kitchen itself, as a separate entity from the home as a whole. This may include activities and spells with a heavy influence on cooking, baking, food, and similar things- especially for harmony, healing, etc; does not focus strictly to the household, but can also focus on one's community.

➻ Hearthcraft: A denomnative form of Domestic Witchcraft which is focused on the Hearth or Fireplace, as a separate entity from the home as a whole. This may include spells and activities with a heavy influence on fire, warmth, comfort, protection, and similar things- but in a manner different than Cottagecraft. Especially through the use of fiber-based arts and crafts (such as sewing, knitting, or embroidery [sic]), and Ancestor and Spiritwork; like Kitchencraft, it does not focus strictly to the household, but can also focus on one's community.

➻ Greencraft: A denomnative form of Domestic Witchcraft which is focused in and around the Yard or general (immediate) exterior of the Home. This may include spells and activities with a heavy influence on crystals and plants, Herbalism (magical, spiritual, medicinal, or otherwise), gardening and / or landscaping (magical, spiritual, medicinal, or otherwise), connection with Plant Spirit Allies and Land Spirits, general connection with Earth Energies, ecoregional and bioregional studies, and similar things- but does not include animals.

If I really need a catch-all term for simplicity’s sake, then I call them the “Domestic Magics” as a way to retain their individual definitions while still using a generalized, all encompassing term which is relevant to their shared realm of material focus. And I call myself a "Hearthkeeper", personally, as a practitioner with a heavy primary emphasis on all such forms of Domestic Magics (rather than someone who only practices one or two).

Again, however: This has nothing to do with Hedgecraft. Hedgecraft is a form of witchcraft that deals with Spirits and the boundary between plains (ours and the Otherworld)- including, depending on the practitioner, practices such as the use of ritual Entheogens, ritual transformation, Skinchanging, and other actions. It is more closely allied with Traditional Witchcraft than it is Wicca and NeoWicca, and the Eclectic NeoPaganism that masquerades as such.

I am also a Hedge Witch. Hedge Witchcraft does not have anything to do with my Domestic Practice.

This account is run by a Dual Faith «(Converting) Masorti Jew + Traditional NeoWiccan» & «Ancestral Folk Magic Practitioner» with 20+ years of experience as a practicing Pagan and Witch. If that bothers you, don't interact.

#Personal #2023 #A Direct Look At My Practice #Kitchen Witchcraft #Kitchen Witch #Cottage Witchcraft #Cottage Witch #Green Witchcraft #Green Witch #Domestic Witchcraft #Domestic Witch #Hearth Witchcraft #Hearth Witch #Hedge Witchcraft #Hedge Witch #Religion & Magic #Homemaker #Homemaking #Housewife #NonTrad Housewife #NonTrad Homemaker #NonTrad Homemaking

[domestick-clairvoyante]

What is “domestic witchcraft?”

Hello loves!

While nobody particularly asked for this post, I thought this would be a good chance to explain what I consider domestic witchcraft to be and how I practice it in my day-to-day life.

To gain a better understanding of what domestic witchcraft is, we can look at two guides: animism and Shintoism. Animism is the described as the belief that inanimate objects, places and natural phenomena all possess a “distinct spiritual essence.” Simply put, it is the belief that all distinctly non-human-shaped things are animated and alive. Similarly, Shintoism is a Japanese-based polytheistic religion that “revolves around the kami, supernatural entities believed to inhabit all things.” Because of this link between kami and daily life, Shintoism is considered an animistic religion. Domestic witchcraft revolves around similar, if not the same, principles. Because of the Shintoist influence, I have affectionately dubbed the form of domestic witchcraft I practice “Ghibli witchcraft” as the Ghibli animation studio is notorious for its focus on animism and various Shintoist beliefs.

[Interlude ⭐️] As a ‘third-culture-kid’ my beliefs have absolutely been shaped by the community around me, as well as my experiences. In a similar way, your witchcraft is allowed to be fluid in both labels and beliefs. It is valid for traditional witchcraft labels not to fit! Your magick is something completely personal to you, and no one witch experiences it the same way. [End ⭐️]

How exactly do these beliefs translate into domestic witchcraft? Mrs B from “The Modern Pagan” describes one aspect of it quite well: "any person... who wants to honor the domestic part of their life while enhancing it with magic. ...the domestic witch brings magic into every corner of the home and the activities that it takes to run it.” (via The Modern Pagan: What is a Domestic Witch?) Domestic witchcraft involves bringing magick into your day-to-day life, whether it be within your household or in your community. However, while there are certain aspects where household or hearth witchcraft might run into domestic witchcraft, I do not consider domestic witchcraft to be the same. This is because the animist aspect of domestic witchcraft is not only limited to the home. 

To me, domestic witchcraft can be described as the belief that deities and spirits are a constant, active presence in my life and affect it in various different ways. While these spirits may often reside on a separate plane, they are intrinsically linked to ours. This is because they can be found in every single thing, whether animated or not.

It also includes the belief that everything has a spirit, including rocks, blades of grass and everything in the conscious and subconscious world.

[Interlude ⭐️] Because I believe that objects have spirits and hold memories (which can be accessed by the practitioner through them), I form significant attachments to sentimental objects :) [End ⭐️]

As domestic witchcraft follows the belief that all living things contain a certain spirit, deities are often whittled down to their simplest form. For example: Zeus, Jupiter, Thor, Baal, Raijin and other deities associated with lightning are all the same basic spirit. However, they take different forms depending on the context, and so appear different. Each of these “forms” has a unique presence and way of expression.

So... How do I worship deities and spirits? Personally, I believe that acknowledging spiritual presences in my life is a form of low-level worship. Giving them a greeting (even if it is a mumble) or some other small sign of acknowledgement is an excellent first step in building your relationship with local spirits.

If spiritual assistance is needed, however, an offering and a prayer is required, as is commonplace in most areas of witchcraft. I usually try and direct these prayers onto a specific spirit, and to be even more clear, a distinct expression of that spirit in the form of a deity. I will likely make a more comprehensive post on how I go about doing prayers and making offerings.

Those are the basics of domestic witchcraft! Again, these are the bare bones of the practice, so this is in NO way a comprehensive post. But I hope this was at least interesting :)

TL;DR: Domestic witchcraft (as I practice it) can be described as the belief that deities and spirits are a constant, active presence our lives life and whom affect it in various different ways. It includes the belief that everything has a spirit, including rocks, blades of grass and everything in the conscious and subconscious world. As domestic witchcraft follows the belief that all living things contain a certain spirit, deities are often whittled down to their simplest form. They take different forms depending on the context, and so appear different. Each of these “forms” has a unique presence and way of expression.

#domestic witchcraft #domestic witch #animism #animist #shintoism #witch #beginner witch #witch community #witchblr #witchy things #witch resources #mine #infodump #info dump

[kyprigeneia]

the cure for loneliness is sitting in a peaceful spot, lighting a little candle and inviting a deity you love to join you

#immediate happiness and comfort or your money back #the little flame is your friend too #domesticated fire 🥺 #pagan witch #hellenic pagan #hellenic polytheism #polytheism #deity work #witchcraft #kemeticism #norse heathenry #deity devotion #paganism

[theprettieststarfr]

I like to think "Puppy" by Pomme is Sirius and Remus singing to Harry as a lullaby before sleep. Just look at the lyrics, with Remus singing in English and Sirius singing in French:

Now, that time is slow / Il n'y a rien de plus beau

And they close all the stores / Tout est calme dehors

As I see you grow / Dans le ciel un oiseau

I love you more / Je t'aime encore

Never let you go / J'aimerai des mots

I'll watch you from the door / Toi tu rêves quand tu dors

As I see you grow / Dans le ciel un oiseau

I love you more / Je t'aime encore

I am afraid of the day you'll die / Je ne voudrais pas que tu t'en ailles

Things, when they change, always make me cry / Tout ce qui change, me fait toujours mal

I am afraid of the day you'll die / Je ne voudrais pas que tu t'en ailles

Things, when they change, always make me cry / Tout ce qui change, me fait toujours mal

As I see you grow / Dans le ciel un oiseau

I love you more / Je t'aime encore

"I AM AFRAID OF THE DAY YOU'LL DIE" BECAUSE OF JAMES AND I ALSO LIKE TO THINK THEY FOUND OUT WHAT DUMBLEDORE WAS RAISING HARRY TO BE

"THINGS AS THEY CHANGE ALWAYS MAKE ME CRY" MY BABY EXPERIENCED SO MUCH CHANGE BRO EVERY FUCKING MONTH AS WELL, SAME WITH SIRIUS WITH THE "TOUT CE QUI CHANGE ME FAIT TOUJOURS MAL"

"TOUJOURS MAL" AND NOT "TOUJOURS PUR" AHHHHH

"TOI TU RÊVES QUAND TU DORS" BECAUSE HE IS SO HAPPY HE ISNT TRAUMATISED LIKE SIRIUS SO HE CAN BE A LITTLE KID AND DREAM NORMALLY AND NOT HAVE TO DRINK DREAMLESS SLEEP POTIONS

French translation: (I am B2, but I have no idea how good this is, please correct me if needed)

There is nothing more beautiful

Everything is calm outside

A bird in the sky

I still love you

I'd like words

You dream when you sleep

A bird in the sky

I still love you

I wouldn't want you to go away

Everything that changes always makes me hurt

I wouldn't want you to go away

Everything that changes always hurts me

A bird in the sky

I still love you

#marauders #dead gay wizards #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #marauders era #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #wolfstar dads #wolfstar raising harry #james potter #lily evans #lullaby #pomme #puppy #french sirius black #french #welsh remus lupin #wizarding war #domestic wolfstar #fluff #harry potter #Spotify

[postmodernbeliever]

lifetimes and lifetimes - fox mulder x fem!witch reader

not every witch needs spells and stones to relive the past, or predict the future. in your opinion, the craft is much simpler than that- what is meant to be yours comes to you, at the right time. and the right thing does come, in the shape of a tall, curious fbi agent. it doesn't take long to learn just who fox mulder is to you- and that it seems you two always find each other, in every lifetime.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this one is dedicated to @spookybasementboy bc they asked for it :))  i took some creative liberty because i’m not much of a witch myself- i was inspired by the past life situation in the season 4 ep “the field where i died” but also wanted to make sure i made it mystical, so i used a sort of invocation/prayer and vision experiences. but really i wanted to have an amalgamation of a witch and a regular person, who truly is a product of “coincidences”, run into our handsome little fox. i think it came out kinda cool. unlike anything i've written. ok ill stop explaining and let you read. <3

my ao3 | word count: 5,041

content tags: wicca, not too witchy but has spiritual experiences, mentions of bodily blood/gore, past lives, flashbacks, idiots in love, stress, fear, anxiety, slow romance, you both fall hard FAST but it’s gotta be slow!!!!!!!!!!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

special agent fox mulder believes in everything. he doesn’t know how not to, not with everything he’s seen in his lifetime. because of this blind faith, he gets himself in constant trouble. it was the first thing you noticed about him as he handcuffed you to the chair in the police station bullpen, that he was trouble, but in a good way. in the way that without having said a word, you felt he could turn your life upside down. even in a state of shock, you could sense that.

you sat like a prisoner, eyes shut as agent mulder settled into the desk chair opposite you. behind your eyelids, you relived flashes of moments from not even an hour prior. there was blood and bullets; you tasted wood, glass, screams, more blood. you remembered the red eyes, and the way bodies flooded beneath the pews, the sound of skulls cracking against the cold tile. you remembered reciting the only prayer that you could remember, the first one you learned when you left the church at 18. you felt the wiry carpet burning your elbows as you crawled away. you heard their voices repeating, “baruch hashem, baruch hashem, baruch hashem…” you remembered being chased, and after that, nothing else. as you awaited what surely was to become your interrogation you began to pray again, because it felt like you had no other means of safety. the earth is my mother, i shall not want…

“so, you like to run, huh?” the man teased, easing into his questioning. 

agent mulder’s authority was practically dripping from him- tailored suit, slack tie, blue and white badge screaming from his pocket. the print of his gun pressed against the black holster which flashed enticingly behind his coat. you saw power in his eyes, and a boyish attitude in his smile as he awaited your response. he was an understated kind of handsome. the kind that snuck up on you.

you winced as you shifted in the chair, and the man watched you tremble, suspicious of your state. maybe it’s drugs, he thought, but he quickly rescinded that. you just didn’t seem like the type. to the naked eye, you were healthy; plump arms and legs, round cheeks, secretive eyes. you were an intriguing sight, and not just because of your clothes. chained to a chair, your curling tendrils of hair and berry lipstick looked so out of place in a dirty, bustling environment like the one in which you both sat. he saw a girl adorned in earthy colors both muted enough to communicate a soft darkness, and bright enough to draw people to it. the beat-to-shit brown boots on your sleepy feet showed how long you’ve been drifting by, living alone. silver ornamented your neck and ears and poised hands, and agent mulder liked how it contrasted the tarnished handcuffs. you were battered from the events of your evening, with deep cuts in your hands and knees, and bloody scrapes all over your body, taking turns sharing skin with the bruises. you were a dichotomous girl, giving him every reason to be curious; yet all personal inquiries aside, agent mulder had a job to do. he had caught you fleeing a crime scene, after all. 

something in his gut wanted to release you, to let you float right out the front door and back to wherever you came from; but in his chronic open-mindedness, he couldn’t be sure if you weren’t tricking him some way into feeling that. so he kept you locked tight and facing him, eagerly awaiting your statement. 

“running is for the guilty, agent mulder.”

“well, i had to chase you down, didn’t i?”

“who says you decide what i’m guilty of?”

the agent turned to the computer and opened a statement file, deciding to take yours himself. “what’s your name, miss?”

“which one? i have a few.”

“whichever one i can find in an official file somewhere in this pigsty,” he grinned. 

“well, that’s not gonna be much help,” you shot the man a wink, “they know me by a handful, too.”

“well, come up with one, then.”

you sat for a moment, already settled on the name you wanted to hear him repeat, but wanting to tease anyway. when you offered it up, the sound rang in his ears like angel’s bells. 

agent mulder simply couldn’t stifle his curiosity. as he typed your chosen name out, he asked, “what does it mean?”

“well, my last name is an old name. for us wiccan, it means old friend. and i like to think of myself that way- familiar, constant, when the world is always moving.”

“and your first?”

“my favorite shakespeare character.” you admitted. the man’s face flooded with color, and you could hear him thinking, is she fucking with me? so you tacked on, “you know, just because someone’s a witch doesn’t mean they’re an isolationist. i read.”

“i didn’t say anything!” agent mulder chuckled awkwardly. your intuition had him drawing nervous breaths. “so, you’re a witch. is that why you were at the church? did you plan to invoke, or just poke fun?”

“i’m not that kind of witch, agent mulder. not all witches are mean-spirited. i was there because i had walked past the church a few days ago, and i saw the stained glass windows from outside. they were so beautiful, i wanted to see them up close. i’m not a fan of what happens at churches, but i do love their art.”

for an accepting person, agent mulder didn’t realize how many preconceived notions he held. sat before him was a girl who pledges to be a witch, but visits catholic churches in her free time like museums. a girl who chose her name according to the day. in what little he knew, there seemed to be not one solid fact on which he could build a realistic profile. tight-lipped, the man asked for your age, place and date of birth, and address.

“i’m not sure exactly how many lives i’ve had, but in this one, i’m 29. arlington, d.c… um, october 31st, 1964… oh, and right now, i’m at 2632 hegal place, alexandria. apartment 42.” 

as you spoke, a wind blew through the station. it ruffled the papers on agent mulder’s desk, and it whistled through the links to your handcuffs. the hair stood up on your arms as the wind whispered, and you knew what he was going to say before he said it. you felt it in your gut. 

“2632?” agent mulder swallowed thickly, his curious pupils inflating almost cartoonishly. you saw his goosebumps and smiled.

as if you’d known all along, you asked, “you live in the building next door, don’t you? 2630?”

agent mulder didn’t respond, but the blood in his cheeks did for him. you shifted in your seat again, feeling a burning in your stomach. you hadn’t felt that hot intuition for a long time. there was a haunting quality to his face that was drawing you away from your defense; you couldn’t keep up the mysterious act, because something about him made it impossible to hide.

“s-so, what were you doing at the church?”

“you already asked me that, sir.”

you were surprised that even in the chaos of the police station, you weren’t alone. you felt alone. agent mulder seemed to look at you like his eyes didn’t recognize another thing, like the world was unfamiliar to him aside from your face, your eyes. and all those years of sitting in meditation, of attempting to regress, to see who you were before and who your soul was tethered to were useless. you should’ve known by now to trust in your world, in its karma. it always comes when it’s meant to. 

 “you can call me fox, if it’s easier. sir is so… formal.”

fox’s eyes sparkled. you’d seen that shimmer before, but in water, and in shifting light. you looked into him, and wiped your clammy palms against your pantyhose-clad thighs. for the first time all night, you felt your barrier coming down, the shield you raised back at the church, against the cops and the world. the fear you stifled to survive was finally flooding through your veins, and the tears in your eyes followed like dominoes. 

fox instinctively abandoned the report and took your palms in his own, passing his calloused thumbs over your trembling knuckles. “hey, hey, it’s okay,”

“i-i”m sorry,” you hiccuped, struggling to speak. “i’m- m’over… overwhelmed,”

“catch your breath,” he whispered, running his palms up and down your arms. his touch was seraphic, and by it, you knew you’d felt it before. lifetimes and lifetimes of it. “take it easy, i’m here.”

when you calmed down, he began again, “can you tell me what happened?” 

“well… i went into the church. to look at the windows, like i said. i was alone, it was maybe around six o'clock by then. they were just finishing mass, and everyone stood up to leave, a-and then they came in,” you stuttered, “the, uh, the shooters. they were- they were in all black, and wore red masks, like ones from the halloween store. they were chanting, they said, baruch hashem. it sounded like hebrew, but i think it was different, i’m not sure. it sounded old. and they were chanting, and they knocked so many people down in the aisles to get to the alter. they fired a few rounds off at the windows, glass fell on my head… i saw a lot of people fall, so i dropped to the ground and pressed my face to the wall. i prayed over and over, to the earth, it’s the only prayer i could remember. i just wanted to hide, y’know? a-and when- when they got up to the altar, they-”

the agent stopped you to ask, “what prayer?” 

“why does it matter?” you sniffled. 

“because it might have been what got you out in time.” 

his eyes were so pleading, and the fire curling around your bones stood to remind you he was to be trusted. so you recited the prayer, a slightly juvenile one that in your newness you cut down to the meat of: “the earth is my mother, i shall not want. she restores my body and awakens my soul. although i walk in the shadow of changing seasons and passing time, i will not fear death, for the essence of life is within me, the peace and beauty of earth comfort me. as i look to the skies with wonder at the immensity of the universe, i know i am blessed beyond measure to live all the days of my life in the bountiful house of gaia.”

the man marveled at how the words spilled from your tongue, so ingrained in your muscle memory that they were second nature. you kept a cadence, and each word was its own. he saw now you were not one to sit surrounded by potions and symbols to cloud your focus; you simply let the power of the world pass through you, and hoped to harness it and be protected as you yielded to it. you repeated that mantra like it was all you had left- he could tell. he’d never met such a modern witch. to him, you were a brand new kind of x file, with subtle powers he has yet to comprehend. 

“that’s beautiful,” he complimented as he squeezed your palms. “alright, now breathe. you're safe. keep talking.”

shutting your eyes, you tried to reimagine the horror. you’d never dreamed of seeing anything so inhumane, but maybe these details would be useful. you can’t have just seen them for nothing. 

“they, um, they took the priest. one of them shot him, and then another laid him on the table, and- and he used a knife to cut him open. there… there was so much blood,” you swallowed thickly. “they took his… y’know, his uh, insides. they dragged them out, and they chanted, and anyone who stood up was shot. i- i watched them take it all and, uh, they put it in the tabernacle, of all places… and their eyes glowed under the masks, bright red, and they never stopped chanting. once they started taking people from the pews with knives, i crawled out the side door, because i had th-this feeling, like, like it would be me next. i felt it everywhere. and when the cops showed up…”

“you didn’t want to get stuck. and you thought i was one of them, coming to take you, so you ran from me.” fox finished your thought, a resonant pain shaking his ribcage at the thought of making an innocent girl just try to outrun the danger. “you saved yourself, you know. i don’t know how your prayer worked, but you did something, summoned something that saved you long enough to get you out.”

“and it made you follow me.” you sighed, wiping your tear-stained cheeks. “why?”

fox’s eyes traveled across your face, inspecting every detail, wishing he had a microscope. his hand raised deliberately to brush a lock of hair from your face. “i don’t know.”

“what is your gut telling you?”

“its…” the man felt like his lungs were going to pop, two balloons over-inflated, under siege by a swarm of butterflies. “i wanted to follow you. to find you, not arrest you. but you kept running, so… y’know, logic took over.”

fox took a moment to fish the handcuff key from his pocket, and he unlocked your wrists, rubbing softly at the red marks. the agent winced, guilt-ridden for fastening them too tight. “does it hurt?”

“no, m’okay,” you muttered. your head was pounding, and when his fingertips grazed your pulse, you felt somewhat weak. 

fox let you rest for a few minutes while he typed up your account. he remembered every word. as he worked, his leg consciously shifted out to knock against your knee, and the two of you sat that way for a while, touching bones. when he was done, he leaned back in the borrowed desk chair and sighed, dragging his big palms down his face. 

“can i ask why you’re investigating this?” you brought one leg over the other, suddenly a bit conscious of the length of your dress. you saw his eyes follow, and you flushed. 

“oh, well, my partner and i- scully, you met her- we’re, uh, we’re investigating a string of ritual murders. we’ve followed these guys through the state, they shoot up masses and do what they believe to be sacrifices to jesus himself. that- that chant you mentioned, baruch hashem, i recognize it. it’s aramaic, the language jesus spoke. means “blessed be the name”. we’ve gathered they chant that over and over and they, uh,” the agent paused, seeing the discomfort on your face, “you don’t want to know the details.”

“no, i do! it's just a little raw is all,” you flashed a meek smile, gesturing with a nod for him to continue. 

“well, they seem to be taking people’s… entrails, the priest’s first, and offering them up by putting them in the tabernacle. my theory is they seem to think that if they offer holy blood, and let it be anointed with the eucharist, it'll reward them with god’s love and immortality. as far as we know, they belong to a cult that moves across the country, sacrificing lives to win god’s favor. and what you saw tonight- what you suffered- it’s going to help us stop them.”

“really?”

“yes, really,” he grinned. “listen, i’m not going to hold you here. you’re a victim, you don’t deserve to keep reliving this. you need to go home, get some rest.”

there was still that fire in you, churning and hissing within your throat, reminding you not to ignore it. you never did. in your practices, you always bended to the will of your fire. every invocation, every motion, was deliberate. it all came through you. you didn’t adhere to the rules of everyone else who believed like you did; you belonged to no wiccan circle, no congregation. you just made your way in the world, a ritualist by nature, working with this life and world while understanding your diversion from it. you let your selves be your guide- every version of you that has lived wisely for your benefit. 

thinking of what you are, and what you’ll become now you’ve met fox mulder, the flames licked your tongue, making you honest again. “i’m scared to leave. i… i don’t want them to come for me.”

fox’s comforting grin fell. he saw how you made yourself small in the chair, and he wished he could switch places. in an instant, he’d be the one interrogated, judged, the one seeing guts and blood when he closed his eyes. he couldn’t let that be what you turned into.

“i can bring you. i can get you security, protective custody, anything you need. i’ll protect you myself if i have to,” fox swore, “i won’t let them get to you, okay?”

a sad little laugh bubbled in your throat, and you reached for the hand that rested on the computer mouse. you adored the feeling of his tired skin beneath yours so sensitive. “i guess i don’t really know what’ll feel safe just yet.”

“then let me take you home, at least,” fox offered. “i do live next door.”

“you do.”

you stood up, feeling a bit achy in the knees. fox offered you his arm and you wrapped your palm around it gratefully. you watched him motion across the station to the pretty redhead you’d met in cuffs, who nodded softly. his partner. there was a smart look in her eye, and you knew she had the answers- to what, you couldn’t be sure, but she held a truth within her. it glowed golden against the pink of her skin.

the agent ushered you to a small car outside the station, opening the passenger side for you to slide in. you giggled at his old-fashioned ways, enamored by how he shed his suit jacket and laid it across your nearly bare legs in the car. “so you don’t get cold,” he explained, but you couldn’t care less about why.

the drive was silent. fox went slowly, although you had the feeling he tended to speed. his hand rested on the gear shift out of baseless habit, even though the car was automatic. he was tense, anxious, aware; the muscle at the curve of his jaw clenched and unclenched like it was keeping time, and a stubborn slice of hair kept falling against his forehead no matter how many times he blew it away. you admired him from your side of the car, seeing how traffic lights reflected in his eyes. all it took was for fox to deal a soft glance your way, with just a slight tilt of the head, for you to feel yourself in this car before, within this exact moment some other lateral time. a second wave of goosebumps riddled your body. 

show me, you begged in silence, willing to be heard by whatever force was showing you new versions of the man behind the wheel. show me who he is. show me who he is to me. 

a sudden burst of rain smacked against the windshield of the car, causing both of you to jump. there was no storm following- it was as if a squall came down, just momentarily, to rinse the car. when you blinked, you saw fox driving a first-edition ford in a tweed coat and flat cap, a cigarette bobbing between his lips as he asked you about your day; then, he was jostling atop a cart, hands on worn horse reigns, singing some folk song you’d never heard. another blink revealed him as a boy, holding your juvenile hand and speaking middle french as he passed you a flower, with that same concentrated head tilt and gaze as all the other visions. you’d been here so many times, protected by him, going towards a life with him. you knew he felt it, too, because the beat of his heart was loud enough to hear how it synced with yours. not a piece of you both was out of time, now that the world had removed its wedge. you rested your hand atop his on the gear shift, and the muscle in his mouth loosened. 

when fox pulled up to your building, you waited for him to come around and let you out with a teasing smile. he took your hand gingerly and led you down the sidewalk. he helped you through your building’s door, up the stairs, and he swiped the keyring from your shaking hands and unlocked your apartment for you. the familiar smell of cinnamon air freshener eased your nerves as you switched on the lights, and you saw fox get a glimpse of your life for the first time. he smiled at your home where you lived in the same room, on the same floor, in the same layout one building away, as him. your living room window looked like his. your television was in the same place. you had far more books, and your desk was littered with drawings, but everything was reminiscent of his apartment. and you saw his home now as you looked around, like you had three-dimensional lenses on- you in the blue film, and him in the red. he had no trouble finding the sink and filling a cup for you while you drifted to the couch and sat down. after having time to settle, your body ached. 

“i can't believe this,” was all he could say. 

you took the glass from him and sipped it greedily, falling out of shock and into need. you patted the cushion beside you, and he took a seat.

“you’re familiar with past lives, right?”

“well, yeah,” he confirmed, “i know different theories and cultural views of reincarnation. it's an interesting concept, to be born again but always the same, an amalgamation of the people you were before.”

“i think so, too.”

“but you’re wiccan, so you know all about that already, right?”

“well, i think you should know that things for me are different, fox. i mean, i tell people i’m wiccan, so they call me a witch, and i go with that. i guess i’m spooky to other people. i lean into it because it does them less harm to simplify me and me less harm to just live how i want in private. if i could create a whole new kind of practice, i would, but sometimes its easier to just let people see you how they do and move along,” you elucidated. “what you might think wiccans believe isn’t always what i believe, y’know? it’s just the closest label. works better than deist or freak or whatever. and being here with you, and all these visions, these memories i’m having… i don’t really know what i’m getting at. this is all to say that yes, i believe in past lives, and i’m not so much wiccan as i am just myself.”

“i get it. you follow your own rules. you have an instinct, just something that kind of… burns in you, right?” 

all the words he could’ve used, and he chose burn. because love burns, pain burns, life burns. this entire night has burned you. and he’s burned, too, branded with the belief you share.

“yeah.”

“so, did you know me in your version of past lives, then?” the agent inquired, bumping your knee with his knuckles playfully.

“i know i did, because i asked the world to show you to me, and now i see every version of you. four, maybe five of you, in the same exact moment. you don’t change. and you’re always with me, always a force. this gentle, ferocious thing, keeping me to yourself. and i think in each one, i love you.”

fox’s brain was swimming in confusion while his body buzzed with want. distractedly, he wondered, “how can something be gentle and ferocious?”

softly, you recited, “it’s astounding the first time you realize that a stranger has a body. the realization that he has a body makes him a stranger. it means you have a body, too. you will live with this forever, and it will spell out the language of your life.”

fox beamed, “if beale street could talk. you are well read.”

you set the glass of water down on the coffee table that looked just like his, and you said, “i know you, fox. not in this life yet, but i’ve known you in every one before. coincidences aren’t just coincidences.”

“i never thought so,” the agent nodded thoughtfully. you couldn’t tell what was in his head this time, and you wanted so badly to know. when he did reveal a question, you didn’t expect it. “what was the part of that prayer you said for me earlier? something about the universe?” 

quietly, you recanted: “as i look to the skies with wonder at the immensity of the universe, i know i am blessed beyond measure to live all the days of my life in the bountiful house of gaia.”

fox’s face burst into a wild smile, one that used every tooth he had. he thought of how his entire life, he looked up to the stars, worshiped them; hoping they’d be benevolent enough to bring his sister back, to save his life, to make all of his pain worthwhile. and there they were, divine within your oldest prayer, the very same prayer that guided him from the church in your direction in the first place. you could believe it was the earth, or the spirits you confided in all you liked, but to him the stars had made it all possible. maybe he was a witch in his own way, too, if he played by your rules. 

fox sat in silence with you for a while, refilling your glass while you collected your nerves. the man offered to patch a few of your cuts just so he could pick apart the details of your life in the apartment. with the cover of looking for a first aid kit, he flipped through your books, searching for your copy of james baldwin. he admired your records, finding music he’s loved for years and some he’s never heard before. he studied your little jars of herbs that coexisted alongside tylenol bottles. he saw the parts of your window that you colored with magic marker, because of how you longed for true stained glass. he frowned, thinking what a shame it was those bastards destroyed the art you’d gone to admire tonight. 

as he looked, he learned again what it is like to feel your presence, to be surrounded by you. he felt a sudden gap mending in the space within him, and he didn’t need magic to know why. falling in love was magical enough. 

you spent some time allowing fox to nurse your bumps and bruises (once he stopped fake-looking for the first aid kit), and admired how he childishly placed bandaids all over your arms and legs as if they’d heal all. it was more about letting him care for you, and feeling his hands in places you’d only hoped they’d touched before. he hummed softly to himself all the while, and you were a puddle by the time he finished; when you were the center of his focus, he was nothing but a big sap, muttering soft praises and showering you with smiles. you couldn’t believe it took you so long to find him, or rather that the world took so long to bring you his way. you had so much to make up for now.

when it was time for him to go, you followed him to the door like a puppy. you didn’t feel the discomfort anymore, or the fear of your death. you only felt the doting hands of karma, proving to you the night was simply a means to a much greater end. (un)coincidentally, karma’s hands felt just like his. 

fox leaned in your doorway, his tie undone and his authority stripped. “i’ll come by to check on you in the morning,” he assured. 

“i’ll be here.”

“where do you work?” fox asked, and when your lips melted into a helpless grin, he pushed, “come on, where?”

“i’m a receptionist at the national archives.” 

the believer before you fell to the mercy of his faith, picturing the building on the same street as his job. he imagined how many times you must have walked past him to go to work, all those days spent believing in a love he was missing. his ageless eyes folded on themselves with disbelief, and his laugh rattled deep in his chest.

“jesus. are you sure you’re not something else? a genie, a spirit? an angel?” 

“nope. just a witch. and a bad one, at that.”

you pushed onto your tip-toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, finding his scruff so familiar to your lips. he sighed softly at the touch of your hands, feeling embers sparking in their wake. 

like it was a secret, he murmured, “i have one more question.”

“hm?”

“why do you choose me? if you’ve lived all these lives, why me?”

you settled back onto your heels and smiled. your palm rested against his jaw as you replied, “you know, i don’t think i ever had a choice.”

he wanted to kiss you, but you both know he’s too much of a gentleman. so he only gazed at you for a while, pressing your hand flush to his face, before letting it fall and stepping into the hallway. and as you watched him leave, you imagined every time he’d come back to save you, to love you, to tilt his head and realign himself as the lover you’ve kept for lifetimes.

“you know where to find me,” you called after the man, and he looked over his shoulder with enough love to shatter the sky.

“i guess i always do, don’t i?”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

prayer altered for story, sourced from this website

quote used from novel if beale street could talk by james baldwin

#Spotify #fox mulder #x files #spooky mulder #dana scully #sculder #msr #the x files #msr fanfic #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder x you #domestic fox mulder #soft fox mulder #fox mulder x reader fluff #fox mulder fluff #witchcraft #witch character

[byherbandcandle]

Harmony at Home Blend

I've been away for a bit, taking care of some mental health things, but I'm back with another herbal blend for anyone who may want to bring some good energy to their home. Without further ado...

Ingredients and intention

Alfalfa (prosperity and cleansing)

Lavender (calm)

Rose petals (love)

Hyssop (cleansing and purification)

Lemon balm (tranquility and harmony)

Juniper berries (good luck and protection)

I haven't quite decided how I'm going to use this, but there are a few possibilities. Most likely, I will use them as an infusion to make a floor wash. Other options are grinding them to make either a floor sweep or a powdered incense.

Any ritual and spellcraft used with this is entirely up to you! I always like to focus on my intent when preparing the blends, and since this will be used with domestic magic, I like saying a little prayer to Hestia and leaving her an offering. Feel free to be as simple or as elaborate as you'd like if you choose to incorporate this blend into your practice.

#witchblr #green witch #grimoire #baby witch #magick #kitchen witch #domestic magic #witchy #witch #herbal witch #witchcraft

[houseofapplesorg]

Wednesday, 3 April 2024 11am Pacific ~ online via Zoom

Join us for an orientation on our upcoming (and first!) annual pagan-informed domestic violence certification training, happening this summer. This discovery call will explain more about what to expect, what it does and doesn't offer, how it contributes to our directory of DV-certified spiritual service providers, and how to get involved.

More details + Zoom info: houseofapples.org/events

#paganism #polytheism #witchcraft #spirituality #domestic violence #house of apples

[caffeinatedgoddess]

When You Name Your Demons....

**TW.....abuse**

This perfectly sums up this little writing exercise. Sometimes, you need to name your demon to exorcise it.

My demon? My abusive ex.

Just when I think I've healed from what he put me through, it comes back to haunt me. And sometimes, I summon that demon myself in a desire to see that he's getting what punishment I hope is coming to him for what he stripped me of (because karma's a bitch). Not my proudest moment, but sometimes the urge to know outweighs common sense. My hope is that asking some of the questions I never got to ask him will complete my healing. Because 10 years is long enough, for fuck's sake, and I don't want to waste another thought on him. And, maybe it's time to fully focus on my self-care. I readily provide Reiki healing to others but don't spend much time channeling it to myself. Maybe that's because I didn't want to fully heal until I was able to put these questions out into the ether. Maybe now that they are spoken, I can work on the true healing that I need.

Did you ever tell them that you were the one who wouldn't let me speak to them? Did you tell them that I actually called, but you told me the only way I could talk to them was if I came back to you? Did you know the reason I changed my phone number and dropped off the face of your earth is because you would leave me a voice message almost daily? Begging me to come back and then in the very same breath call me the worst names and threaten me?

Have you told your friends, new and old, why it is that I left? Have you told them that for 15 years, you gaslit me, eroded my self-confidence, blamed me for everything that went wrong, and physically abused me? That despite your Christian faith, you treated me in a way that would make most people feel dirty and ashamed? Or do they only know the story where I ran off with another man who had brainwashed me? Did you leave out the part where you abused me for 15 years? Does it make you feel better that they don't know? If they knew, would you lose all the sympathy you've gotten?

Did you ever consider that the reason I left your faith was because you emotionally and mentally abused me on a daily basis, all while you professed your Christian faith? That maybe, just maybe, I questioned where God and Jesus were while I sat crying for help year after year, and it never came? Where was your God while I contemplated ending everything? Did you ever think that maybe I felt like I had to answer my own prayers because no one else was?

Have you ever given one second of thought to how badly you damaged me? How the constant control you exerted over me made me feel like I was in a prison? How my body never felt like my own (you even tried to control how I styled my hair and used the bathroom, for fuck's sake)? How the constant blame you put on me for the misfortune in your life wore me down? How I never once did anything to deserve the physical and mental abuse you put me through, yet every day I questioned what I did wrong in God's eyes to deserve what you dished out? Or have the past 10 years been all about you and how you were wronged in all of this (and don't even bring them into it - that is a whole different conversation between me and them if they ever choose)?

I walked away because you made me hate you. Your touch made me cringe because I never knew when it was going to turn into a mean-spirited pinch or worse. You made me not want anything to do with you or anything your life touched. I couldn't trust you to take care of my soul, because you made it clear your goal was to crush it. The only person who ever abused me in my life was you....and only you. According to your Christianity, you were supposed to protect me. Oh, you did a good job of protecting me from others. But no one was left to protect me from you. When I first left you, I turned to our Christian brothers and sisters for help. Guess what. Only one stepped forward to support me, but even her support was limited since her husband was friends with you. Not even the preacher offered help.

I'm stronger now. I'm a force to be reckoned with. I've learned how to replace putting up walls with creating clear boundaries. I've learned compassion for others and allow them to come to me with their troubles, all while maintaining my healthy boundaries. I've become 10 times the woman I once was because I have someone who loves me unconditionally and allows me to be me. Not the version of me that they wish I were. You wouldn't like this version of me because you wouldn't be able to control her. Hell, I don't think you could handle her. She'd be too much for you. Yes, you had a hand in building her, but that's only because she had to put back together the pieces that you shattered all by herself. And when she put those pieces back together, she didn't use glue. She filled the cracks with the purest of gold. Now that I'm finally done with you, it's time to polish away the tarnish and allow that gold to shine.

#domestic assault #domestic abuse #mental health #healing #self care #self worth #self love #self help #healingjourney #self healing #witchblr #witch community #witchcraft #witches #witchlife #energy work #witches of tumblr #mental abuse #emotional abuse #gaslighting mention #mental heath awareness

[hailey-whatsername]

It’s hard because I can’t vent on anything main as far as social media.. I have lost all my friends… I’m so tired… I try every day and I’m so exhausted

#domestic violence #dv #depressed #grunge #grungie #grungy girls #grunge quotes #grungyteens #witches #grungy aesthetic #alternative #witch #wiccan #witchblr #citrine #witchcraft #alt rock #concept art #life quote #lyrics #song lyrics #wicca #aestethic #sad #covid #girl #lgbtqa #lgbt representation #lgbt history #lgbt art

[feytouchedtwilight]

“There was a time, Becket knew, when holy people were not safe. When they were not tame. When they were not the gentle shepherds, but the keepers of mysteries and the guardians of fire. As a priest, he turned wine into blood and bread into flesh—why had that ever become a tame thing, a safe thing? God was not safe. The numinous was not safe. So why then had he hemmed in his faith with safety? His hunger with rules? His zeal with bloodless, methodical praxis? He loved rituals, rites, and liturgies, that was unchanged. He loved the motions of them, the ancient words, the less-than-ancient words made to sound older than they were. But he’d been reduced by them, he saw now. Or perhaps not him personally, but his understanding, his relationship with God and belief. He’d hoped to wrestle it into submission, that relationship, and make it something that matched the way other people believed. He’d hoped to hide his zeal, stuff it into the corners of himself, bind it and lash it to his heart so it could never make it to his mouth to his hands and deeds. So that it could never make itself known. All he’d wanted, all he’d ever wanted, was to believe like other people did. Communally and pleasantly, and with glad hearts that could easily bear the distance between themselves and God. Not wild and alone. Chasing after God like an abandoned bridegroom. … Yes, the zeal was dangerous. Yes, it could consume him if he wasn’t strong enough. But he was tired of fighting it. Tired of pushing away love and sex and feral fun, tired of keeping his hunger for God locked in a box because he felt like he had to.”

~ Door of Bruises by Sierra Simone

#read this lately and it really spoke to me #I wish we learned more of Becket and what his zeal is #christianity always felt like this to me- distant #I don’t know what I actually want though #I don’t know what religion actually is to me #I don’t experience zeal I don’t experience much of anything #I just feel kinda numb all the time- is probably a schizoid thing #I want to get into magic and witchcraft and god worshiping but I just can’t #I want something in my life though #this book had another interesting theme : what is ritual to humans as a species? #and I’ve been thinking a lot about that one too #I want more ritual in my life but I don’t know how to add it #especially when I’m struggling with me/cfs and the chronic fatigue etc of it #thinking about how in a lot of ways religion has become domesticated it’s no longer wild and free #something about science taking away the mysticism but also we need science #so how do we add ritual and magic back to our lives then #i wish I had an answer #fey talks

[wanderinghearth]

reblog/reply this with the best binding magic you've found? like the heaviest shit you've got?

intense descriptions of domestic violence tw.

my neighbor is going to murder his wife one day. He's the only reason I've ever called the cops, and they never came. Twice. He's threatened to shoot me for knocking on his door while he was brutally beating his wife. When the cops proved useless and all my rage could only convince him to beat her more quietly, I tried to report his behavior to my landlord, and of course, nothing happened. I just heard him talking on the phone, threatening to put her indoor cat outside if she didn't pick up the phone after the sound of someone throwing shit against the walls for literally 12 hours straight. I wouldn't be surprised if he was hurting the cat. She's tried to leave him so many times. he's been inviting my roommate over for dinner to try to convince him that he doesn't beat his wife, and I'm just imagining it. I'm not. I literally heard him threaten to strangle her to death on multiple occassions while she's screaming bloody murder.

I was thinking of making a curse tablet + a bound poppet but this can't be small. I tried a minor bind before and it only seemed to bind him against bothering me, which was part of it, but wasn't my main intention.

He needs to be bound so he can't hurt anyone.

if you have any nonmagical advice, I'd appreciate that as well. The woman is not friendly to me and is not likely to become friendly, and there are no other neighbors I can talk to at the moment.

#domestic violence tw #magic #witchblr #witchcraft #hexing #binding

[brightgnosis]

Yesterday I found out at our Master Gardener meeting, that our Master Gardener Training Program (which just started this year's round of training a couple weeks ago; we've 9 students this year- one of whom is an old coworker of my Husband's who just retired, hilariously enough) got a brand new lecturer for their Vegetable Gardening module because the one I had last year finally retired.

As already trained Master Gardeners we're allowed to come sit in on classes for free (it's part of encouraging the students to join the organization after training's complete; they like us involved so they can talk to us and show we're not scary. It's a smart tactic, and one that worked on me). We were formally invited to sit in on next month's classes in particular. And next month is when the Vegetable Gardening module is.

I am 100% about to haze the new Lecturer with a million and one questions like I did to all of my Lecturers last year 😈 Zero shame.

But also I'm going to catch the Fruit module as well, because I actually did miss that module in my own training last year; it was the only class I missed, and I missed it because that was the only time I could get my MRI done on my Ankle when we were still trying to figure out what happened to it. It'll be nice to no longer have that gap in my training.

Very late ETA: I did not wind up remembering about the class and therefore did not get to go "haze" the new teacher with all of my obnoxious questions. Really wanted to, though. So RIP me.

#Master Gardening #Gardening #Domestic Witch #Domestic Witchcraft #Green Witch #Green Witchcraft #Cottage Witch #Cottage Witchcraft #Verderer #Oklahoma #Personal #2023 #Master Gardeners #Witchy Gardening #Witches Garden #Witch's Garden

[domestick-clairvoyante]

lunar witch ● cottage witch ● fae witch

hello loves, i’m reverie. i am a queer practitioner and use they/any pronouns, and identify as genderfluid/genderqueer :)

for those of you that enjoy astrology, i’m a virgo sun, virgo moon and virgo rising. ✨ 

i practice animism/mysticism in my domestic life; taking influence from shintoism, hellenism and ancient grecian mythology. i mostly worship spirits and deities.

because of the shintoist/animist influence, i believe magick and supernatural presences surround us and have varying effects on our daily lives.

i do dream interpretations upon request, and i am currently working on developing my tarot skills and spiritual communication. feel free to join me on my spiritual journey

please send in asks (letters), i love and appreciate every single one

#witchy #witchcraft #cottage witch #domestic witch #domestic witches #witchblr #about me #mine

[chloeworships]

⚠️

Babes God showed me Bubble Bees and they were angry. He also showed me the colours yellow and black in what looked like Lego blocks 🧱 The blocks were stacked

Then I saw these:

Babes. Someone is angry at you. You may have done or said something that pissed them the hell off and they are going to retaliate.

They want to hurt you as a sting hurts from a bee. They may do this physically, emotionally or spiritually using witchcraft. Someone once projected themselves to me and tried to fight me 😅

🐝

When I was little, I was stung by wasps from a nest. I was stung by at least 50 of them. I only remember being stung, feeling like I blacked out and went to the emergency clinic on site. I don’t remember anything else other than being in a tremendous amount of pain. God, for some reason is telling me to share this story with you.

For others of you your anger is what is blocking you from attaining the height of success you are seeking and as long as that anger isn’t controlled, further success will be a mere fantasy.

For some of you, you could get so angry you black out just like I did when I was stung. Also, when I was little, I would get ssssooooooooo enraged I would lose my temper and black out and when I came to, I realized I had become physically violent 😭 Thank God this only happened twice ✌🏾but it was so bad I didn’t come outside for the rest of the summer to play 😭💔 I was EMBARRASSED 🙈 even though my youthful rage was justified at the time. Don’t be my past younger self for the LORD said we should not sin in our anger even if it is righteous…. Do not retaliate instead take it to God and ask him to handle it. You may not have the entire story and react over something trivial.

The colours Black & Yellow are significant to whoever this is for.

Also this could be about someone’s baby mama. I saw a woman with lashes on. I was just told that this person is obsessed with their looks.

Domestic violence, though in most cases is against women, please understand this occurs with men too and it’s sad that we frown upon this. There are women that will purposely try to taunt a man or physically abuse him to incite his rage and now he’s labeled an abuser because he tried to defend himself. If you are dealing with someone like this, document

EVERYTHING.

For whoever this is for, this will be your proof. This person should not have custody of your children. What happens to these children when you’re not around???

We may hear about this publicly however this message is for several individuals.

🟡⚫️🟡⚫️🟡⚫️

I also had a vision of Roses 🌹 and the Lacoste logo.

PS. The Lego blocks also represent children 🥺 I pray this person is NOT abusing their children 😣 If you want full custody of your family (and not pay a dime in child support) you will need to demonstrate that you are capable of taking care of them full time and that you have a stable home 🏡 while proving the other party is emotionally unstable.

Keep in my mind abuse isn’t just physical. Verbally abusing kids is not ok either and can leave a lifetime of “soul scars”. That’s what I heard the Holy Spirit just say. These scars can be seen with spiritual eyes.

WOW 😯

UPDATE

while I was editing this post I heard “BAD MOM”. Isn’t there a movie by that name??? 👀 wowowowowowowowwwwwwwwwwww

Lastly,

If you are in a custody battle for some of you it will be awarded 50/50.

#Anger #Rage #Blackout #Black & Yellow #Domestic Violence #Witchcraft Attacks #baby mama drama #Child Abuse

[phantomverse707]

HermioneGranger x FemaleOC Fanfiction

Thanks for clicking.

I have finally gathered the courage to publish a book I've been working for a long time and its just been sitting in my Google account.

The book will follow the events of the Harry Potter Books and will include some scenes from the films as well. I have tried to smoothly add my OC with the golden trio.

Not really sure if its anyone's thing but it is a bit of a slowburn. Trying not to add too much angst but who knows if I might.

For now I have prewritten book 1 so hopefully I am able to post weekly, but I can't promise I am going to be consistent.

I will do my best to post on both AO3 and Wattpad

Book Title: Insight

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/354916675-insight-hermione-jean-granger-x-fem-oc AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55145533/chapters/139837534

#hermione granger #hermione x fem!OC #hermione jean granger #wlw #sapphic #lgbtqia #harry potter #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts oc #wattpad #fluff #domestic fluff #hermione x femaleOC #lesbian

[fred-and-george-weasley-my-loves]

Chapter 1

|Eugenes's POV|

it was a cold October morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and I had just woken in my dorm room, I suppose during the night I had fallen onto the ground because now me and my fluffy green blanket were on the floor, I stretch my awkwardly long yet thin arms as I slowly yawn and try to stand up, still tired, I stand now stretching my legs and realizing my dorm mates had already went down for breakfast, I panic as I look at my clock as it says "8:46am" on the small screen, my dark brown eyes widen, in a panic I start putting on my black slacks, feeling uncomfortable as they're rather tight and not quite what I like in pants but it is the least of my problems at the moment

Right now my two biggest problems are 1 I don't want to miss breakfast and 2 Claire is most definitely going to be worried out of her mind. I quickly throw on a ravenclaw sweater that I for sure didn't steal from my dearest and best friend, Michele Anderson, we've been friends since our first year on the boats to the Hogwarts castle, I still remember being super sad that we weren't in the same house, but then again we were 11, I smile at the memory of meeting Michele.

I toss on my Emerald necklace and walk out of the slytherin dorms, into the common room, waving at the few slytherins that either weren't hungry or had finished their food early.

Im now in the great hall and I sit down next to my friend, Henrietta, at the slytherin table, I watch as I see a very familiar short third year brunette hufflepuff stomping up to me and Etta, the younger girl looks worried sick, she also seems to examining my face and arms, they sigh as they notice I'm not even wearing my own sweater, "oh merlin, Eugene, late for breakfast and wearing Micheles sweater?? Do you even know how worried I was?? What if you DIED or something worse??" She says this anxiously and fast, I hear Henrietta chuckle next to me which causes Claire to give her a death glare, I also chuckle softly and quietly and tell her, "Clar, I appreciate your, errrr, concern, but I'm fine, you're acting like you're my mother", I see her pout as if she's a three year old, I chuckle and they roll their eyes and say, now more calmly and less anxiously but her voice always has a rather nervous tone to it " whatever, sooooo, are you two excited for Hogsmeade?"

"uhhhh, fuck yeah, I always am!" I hear Henrietta's beaming voice from my side, I smile at the girls but I start to realize the stares from a handful of other slytherin students which is starting to make me a bit uncomfortable but they soon turn their heads away as our conversation gets quieter, "so, what are we going to do?" I ask, trying to make my voice quieter even though I rarely do be quiet but I really don't like the attention we're getting from just talking, they notice and also act more chill especially Claire.

We talk and talk, not paying attention to the food by this point, breakfast is over and we're now going to the girls slytherin dorm, sneaking in claire with us into the dorm

As we're walking there a familiar face comes up to the three of us, its no other than my best friend ever, Michele, she comes up to us and hugs me and fist bumps Henrietta and Claire, I swear I could see claire blushing a bit when seeing Ella but I brush it off even though Henrietta is lightly teasing her about it which causes Claire to lightly smack her hand in annoyance.

"guys! Guess what!" The ravenclaw girl says excitedly

i hear Henrietta sigh next to me "what is it...?" Claire asks with a dopey smile on her face that she only gets around Michele although she still sounds a bit confused

"some Gryffindor boy gave me 4 tickets to a Hogwarts Trainwreck concert! Apparently the dudes friends are pretty flaky" Michele says, sounding excited as hell to go to the concert with us and obviously we all are excited

We all agree and I can't even see my own face but I know for a fact I probably have the most excited face out of everyone

NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE OUT SOON

#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter oc #slytherin oc #hufflepuff oc #ravenclaw oc #hogwarts #hogwarts houses #hogwarts oc #gryffindor #hufflepuff #harry potter #fuck jkr #original character #fanfic #domestic fluffy friends #Inter house friendships #domestic fluff #just a silly fic of inter house friendships (and maybe more) #real wizard rock band mentioned #Wizard rock #Hogwarts Trainwreck