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blueiskewl · 6 months

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3,400-Year-Old Ancient Egyptian Cemetery Found With Colorful Coffins

Archaeologists have uncovered an Ancient Egyptian cemetery dated to more than 3,000 years ago containing the colorful coffin of a high priest's daughter and preserved mummies, among hundreds of other finds.

Researchers unearthed the cemetery at the Tuna el-Gebel necropolis, located almost 170 miles south of Cairo in Minya Governate, Egypt's Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities announced in a statement on Sunday.

The cemetery, which dates back to the New Kingdom (16th-11th centuries B.C.) of ancient Egypt, was used as a burial ground for senior officials and priests during the period, according to archaeologists.

The cemetery was uncovered during excavations that began last August in the Al-Ghuraifa area of Tuna El-Gebel and features "many tombs" that have been carved into rock.

Researchers have also made hundreds of archaeological finds at the site, including stone and wooden coffins—some of which contained mummies—amulets, ornaments and funerary figurines.

One of the most notable finds at the cemetery is a colorful, engraved coffin belonging to the daughter of a high priest of the ancient Egyptian god Djehuti, often referred to as Thoth.

This deity, commonly depicted as a man with the head of an ibis or baboon, was a key figure in ancient Egyptian mythology and played several prominent roles. For example, Thoth was credited with the invention of writing and is also believed to have served as a representative of the sun god Ra.

Next to the coffin of the high priest's daughter, archaeologists found two wooden boxes containing her canopic jars, as well as a complete set of "ushabti" statues.

Canopic jars were vessels used by the ancient Egyptians to store the organs removed from the body in the process of mummification—the lungs, liver, intestines and stomach—in order to preserve them for the afterlife.

Ushabti statues, meanwhile, were figurines used in ancient Egyptian funerary practices that were placed in tombs in the belief that they would act as servants for the deceased in the afterlife.

Archaeologists also made another particularly fascinating find at the New Kingdom cemetery: a complete and well-preserved papyrus scroll measuring approximately 42-49 feet in length that features information related to the Book of the Dead.

The Book of the Dead is a collection of ancient Egyptian funerary texts consisting of spells or magic formulas that were placed in tombs. These texts were thought to protect and aid the deceased in the afterlife. They were generally written on papyrus, a material similar to thick paper that was used as a writing surface in ancient times.

Mostafa Waziri, secretary general of the Supreme Council of Antiquities, said in the statement that the discovery of the cemetery is an "important" find.

By Aristos Georgiou.

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yurinaa-world · 1 day

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Hello! Could I request for Aventurine and Sunday as single parents headcanons?

Characters: Aventurine & Sunday !platonic x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: Aventurine and Sunday as single parents

Warnings fluff, spelling mistakes,

Notes: I just saw that my request the oldest ones date back to the beginning of March. (IM SORRY ill try not to rush them but also just them out quickly so everyone is happy)

𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒

He's the type of parent to spoil his kids but also sorta strict but like in a fun way y’know. Like giving you a lot of candy but he’ll make sure you brush your teeth. Then if you don’t he’ll tell you a scary story about how the tooth fairy sees that you didn’t brush your teeth and she takes you away and traps you in her basement, taking all your teeth away since you can’t take care of them so you don’t deserve them.

Spoils so much. Whenever he’s gone for a couple of days because of the IPC, he brings so many gifts back for you, it’s not like he wants to do their dirty work so it's more like bringing gifts to both of you since seeing you happy makes him happy.

He got you a jar once filled with candy that you both would share taking two out each—for the both of you—it’s special to you since you both always share two to symbolize another good day for the two of you yet you won't take one unless he’s there with you since how can it be a good day if he’s not there. (stole that from The Male Lead's Little Lion Daughter)

Oh, he's def the type when you ask him to teach you card tricks the first time he messes with you and shows you the most complicated card trick you’ve ever seen then hands you the deck, starting at you as if expects you to do what he just did in your sleep or somethin’

Ugh, he’s also the type to read your bedtime story no matter how old you get. He still reads you Cinderella.

𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎

You’re his perfect child. As everyone looks up to him, the people around your age do the same. You both are a perfect duo to each other. Almost like a spitting image of him with the way you act.

He’s the type of parent who you don’t like to do something that he would dislike…it’s not an angry expression or frustrated words but disappointment…just that disappointed look on his face without any words to say just staring at you with that look on his face bring shivers down your spine. “I told you many times did I tell you to not do that…sigh, I'm disappointed in you.”

You always accompany him whenever he anywhere to go—you’re sort like his pet bird just waiting for him to give you any kind of command, forget being his assistant you’re more like a pet—you both always look good together maybe you might able to live up to how good of a duo that Sunday and Robin are but that’s far in the future and as if you have a chance.

He’s loving, patting your head whenever you do something good, it makes you so happy to get the slightest of his attention since he’s always working so hard for the small amount of attention is good enough for you.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧#star rail #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine hsr #hsr x y/n #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #sunday x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail

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breelandwalker · 1 year

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2023 Witch Market Events

Just a quick rundown of the Richmond VA witch markets I'm signed up for this year! There will be at least two more to come in October and December and times may change, so stay tuned for updates and visit the Facebook event pages for full details. See you there!

Kitchen Witch Market

Sunday, March 5 2023, 12n-5pm Triple Crossing Beer, 5203 Hatcher St

Oddities Witch Market

Sunday, April 2 2023, 12n-6pm Diversity Richmond, 1407 Sherwood Ave

Pride Witch Market

Sunday, June 11, 2023, 12n-5pm Diversity Richmond, 1407 Sherwood Ave

Midsummer Witch Market

Sunday, June 25 2023 , 11am-3pm Diversity Richmond, 1407 Sherwood Ave

Crystal Witch Market

Sunday, July 9 2023, 12pm-5pm Triple Crossing Beer, 5203 Hatcher St, Richmond VA

Astrology Witch Market

Sunday, August 13 2023, 12pm-5pm Triple Crossing Beer, 5203 Hatcher St, Richmond VA

Harvest Witch Market

Sunday, September 17 2023, 12pm-6pm Diversity Richmond, 1407 Sherwood Ave, Richmond VA

Autumn Witch Market

Saturday Oct 7 2023, 12pm-5pm Strangeways Brewing, 2277A Dabney Rd, Richmond VA

Samhain Witch Market

Sunday, Oct 29 2023 4pm-9pm Diversity Richmond, 1407 Sherwood Ave

Crystal and Oddity Witch Market

Sunday, Nov 19 2023, 12pm-6pm Diversity Richmond, 1407 Sherwood Ave, Richmond VA

Winter Solstice Witch Market

Sunday, Dec 17 2023, 12pm-5pm Diversity Richmond, 1407 Sherwood Ave, Richmond VA

#RVA #Richmond #witch market #witchblr #witchcraft #pagan #witch shop

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elminx · 9 months

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Elminx's Guide to Augmenting Your Spellwork

This guide is intended to be allied to the type of spellwork that draws something towards you or is desirous of change within yourself. The goal here is to create actions throughout our day or week that bring our thoughts back to the magic that we have performed. From my way of thinking, this keeps the stream of magic flowing in the right direction through your returned focus. It can have the added benefit of reminding you to take the actions in the world that are necessary for the success of your spellwork.

There will be a number of examples following but they all have the same theme: doing something during your initial spellwork that you will return to after the spell has been cast to keep your attention focused in the direct on what you want. Some of these things will be very obvious and you will have seen them before - others may be less so and better suited to a person in the broom closet. Some of these are standalone spell techniques on their own; here I am trying to convey that when combined together, multiple types of spellwork can have a greater effect than individually.

The idea is to continue to do the things listed below until your spell has manifested. Yes, there are obviously too many to do all at once. You are, as always, free to pick the ones that fit the spell best or the ones that fit your own lifestyle. Or to disregard all of them altogether.

Create an altar for your spell Say that I was going to create a spell for money to make sure that I could pay my rent on August 1st. I would create a money altar for my spell, do my spell on the altar, and keep all of the spell ingredients (including candle remains and any nonperishable offerings) up for the month of July. If I was going to create a spell to combat the upcoming Venus retrograde, I would keep the altar up all the way through the end of the retrograde. The visual reminder of the altar helps to realign your thoughts toward that spell.

Feed your spell This one goes along with the first nicely. This can look like a lot of different things - it could be adding coins to a money bowl or a spoonful of sugar to a sweetening jar. It could be burning incense on your altar for success on your exams every Sunday. It could be successively lighting small candles to charge your spell for a set number of days, weeks, or on every full moon. If you work with spirits of deities, it could be making repeated offerings while you ask for help with your spellwork. If you are the type of person who sticks to schedules well, make it a scheduled thing. You could align it with the days of the week if you're into that or with the moon cycles. If you're not a scheduler, do it when you remember.

Mantras (and other Spoken representations of your spell) If you are a verbal person, word magic may work very well for you. This can be anything from one phrase to a rhyming couplet - the idea here is that it is something that you remember to repeat to yourself. I think that this type of magic work especially well when doing work on changing something about yourself, but you may find a use for it in other areas that I have not. Ideas for using mantras: say them when you wake up or before you fall asleep at night, say them while looking in the mirror while getting ready in the morning. Or, simply say them when it would be appropriate for the magic that you have worked.

Sigils (and other Visual Representations of your Spell) If you are a visual person, sigils and other types of art magic can help you to augment your magic. The idea is to charge or create your symbol during the casting of your magic and then return to it throughout your days. Depending on your situation, you may able to hang your artwork or sigil on your mirror in your bathroom or even on your fridge. If you cast a spell to get better tips, carry the sigil or wear it when you are working. You can draw sigils on your skin with lotion or other skincare. This can be at once the most obvious forms of magic (think the Bluetooth symbol) and the most discreet. You can incorporate your sigil onto something you handmake like clothing (inside your clothes or out), jewelry, or any number of other charms.

Put it in a Jar (and other Physical representations of your magic) Yes, jar spells and other container magic are a topic all onto themselves. But have you thought about putting the remains of a spell into a jar? This is a very sympathetic view of magic, but it makes no sense to me to cast a spell to bring something toward you and then immediately get rid of the objects used in the spell. It's counterintuitive to throw something away that you want. N'est pas? Instead, put the items you used in the casting of the spell into a jar or bag and keep it somewhere safe until the spell comes to pass. This is where an altar to your spell comes in handy - it's a place to house this object. Bonus: this makes it harder for sneaky people or inquisitive animals to find their way into your spell components. Other versions of this include putting your intentions for the spell into an object such as a stone or a piece of jewelry and carrying it with you every day.

Invoke Your Senses Again, this is strictly my opinion, but magic involves both the unconscious and the conscious mind. The best way to hijack your unconscious mind and keep it aligned with your consciousness is through the base senses like smell and taste. They tap right the fuck in as they are deeply connected to our memory centers. Here I suggest picking a scent or flavor from your spell and incorporating it into your life for the duration afterward. If you use rose petals, buy yourself a rose-scented soap or rose perfume. If you use basil, make yourself pesto once a week or work to otherwise incorporate basil into your meals. As far as food goes, items like jams and simple syrups are perfect for this purpose if applicable. This involves a bit more planning than some of the other suggestions but can be very rewarding (and tasty!). Alternatively, if sound is important to you, you could use a piece of music during your spell and then play it repeatedly to reactivate the feeling of the spell. Or, if you're very musically inclined, you could write your own song or simply set your mantra/words to music in some fashion.

This is a very non-exhaustive list of some of the techniques that I have used to keep the energy of my spells flowing when I am working on a longer manifestation. Mostly, as stated above, these techniques are best used for magic designed to bring something towards you or to change something about yourself but they can be adapted for use with other types of magic as well.

Again, the goal here is to create moments throughout your day or week where your attention is turned back to your magic through repetitive actions such as showering with rose soap or donning a necklace you made with your sigil every morning.

Do you like my work? You can support me by tipping me on Kofi or purchasing an astrology report written by me just for you.

#witchblr #words #mine #spellwork #spellcrafting #witch tips

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thebigsl33p · 1 year

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Anyways Don't Be A Stranger

It's mid but we move on, please let me know of any mistakes!! Requests are open!

Morpheus had been a fool. He could admit that to himself with ease.

The King of Dreams had been free from Roderick Burgess' imprisonment for a few weeks now. And in that time he had chased down rogue nightmares, dealt with a vortex, his sibling(s), made amends with a centuries old friend and rebuilt his realm. And throughout all of that he had forgotten the only person he had thought about for just over two hundred years.

Y/N, his witch of a lover, a woman nearly as old as he was.

The pair had first met when Y/N called upon Dream of The Endless for a spell she was doing. At the time (the mediaeval era) Y/n worked for a small village as a pharmacist. of course she was gossiped about and shunned from the world but the many wards and circles around her house stopped people with bad intentions from passing her threshold. And that is why most of the village sent their children instead, small tiny humans with the purest of intentions and the loveliest of requests. They crossed her wards with ease and some even looked forward to their parents sending them to the Witch's cottage, whether it be for ointments or spells or charms.

This particular day a little boy and his older sister, seven and ten, had been sent to her. Y/N had been anticipating the knock all day and it finally came at 12:33 on a Sunday. She opened the door with a friendly smile and invited the children in whereupon they explained to her their predicament. The little boy had been experiencing intense night terrors and they had come to her for some form of remedy.

The Witch had told them what she would require: a feather from the boys pillow and a strand of his hair. As she was speaking she stood and reached for a vile of sand off her shelf and a jar which was filled with a bright white light.

"What is that?" the little girl reached up and pointed.

"This, my dear," Y/N placed it on her table, "Is a star, plucked from the sky on hallows eve."

The children made "Oo" noises and reached towards the jar and she let them and smiled before leaning down to the little girl, "Do you mind running back home and getting a feather from your brother's pillow?"

The girl nodded eagerly and then she was gone, hopping and skipping away back home, leaving Y/N with the boy who had plucked out a strand of his hair with ease and handed it to the witch, "Thank you!" she smiled.

She folded it into a piece of cloth and placed it into the pocket of her apron, before grabbing her cauldron and putting onto boil. She sat and talked to the boy about what he did, his friends, his interests before his sister returned with a handful of pillow feathers.

"Can I put them in?" She was bouncing with excitement as Y/N gently took the feathers from here and split them into two, handing the other half to her brother.

"Both of you can do it, go on. Be careful of the fire." She watched as the two children giggled and gently placed the feathers into the boiling water.

She smiled and then let them step back so she could continue. She took the sand and sprinkled it in an anti-clockwise direction, her wooden spoon stirring itself. She took the hair out of her pocket and placed it gently in the water. Her hand took a hold of the spoon and she stirred, murmuring as she went of Dreams and Nights and Stars and Gods and Endless.

The children stared in awe as she reached into her pocket and produced a pair of gloves that seemed to consume her hands in darkness before turning around and picking up the star in the jar. She unscrewed the lid and gently tipped it into her palm. She stared at the star for a minute, evaluating her sacrifice towards The Dreaming before lowering it into the water, hands fully submerged and when they came out the gloves seemed to have disappeared and there was a soft glow in the ever-spinning water.

It was all going well, the glow getting stronger and stronger as Y/N had seen many times.

But then she saw the light flicker and her face dropped and there was the sound of wind before the room was plunged into complete darkness. Instinctually she reached out and grabbed the children by their shoulders, pulling them into her arms and whispering instructions to them, "I need you to stay very very calm." She could feel them nodding in the darkness and she turned her back to where the cauldron used to be, feeling the children cling onto her skirt.

Then she saw them, the two white dots which seemed to hold the entire cosmos, much taller than her and unmistakably eyes.

Y/N spoke with power, strong and authoritative, "You stand within my home, with my rules and my wards, and I demand you show yourself or leave."

it was almost like the figure was laughing at her, her house shook with the echoes of chuckles, "Very well, Witch."

The candles flickered on, the sun returning to the outside world and her cauldron fire being re-lit. With no regard for the entity in her house she turned to the children and made sure they were okay, stroking their hair like a mother would and holding them close. Once she was reassured that they were going to be fine to turned back to the thing infiltrating her home.

It was a man. Tall with striking eyes, dark hair, wearing normal clothes, and she struggled for a moment before it hit her: the all consuming energy, the struggle to feel her own power.

"Dream of The Endless?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but he heard nonetheless.

"You asked for me, did you not?" He cocked his head in a form of confusion, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"Yes but- not like this. It was merely a spell…the little boy behind me has had struggles with night terrors." Gently she turned behind her and held the boys hand, pulling him towards her.

Gently Morpheus crouched down and held out his hands towards the boy but he looked Y/N in the eyes as he spoke, "It is not a Witch's place to mess with dreams." She bowed her head in acknowledgement to his words but gently pushed the boy towards him and watched as The King of Dreams placed his hands upon the boy's head and stared at him before finally speaking, "There will be no more night terrors...your sister and you will sleep well tonight." he reassured him, letting an amused smile slip through the cracks.

The moment Morpheus released him he rushed back into the arms of The Witch who gently patted the two on the back, told them that they were going to be okay, everything was fixed and resolved, this man could be trusted, before sending them home. This will be something to tell their parents…

"This is not the first time you have meddled with my realm, witch." The King of The Dreaming stood up from his crouched position, "I may advise you not to attempt it again."

Y/N wasn't sure how to react. Show him respect? Treat him like an equal? Get angry at him? She simply took a deep breath and started to tidy up placing jars and utensils back in their rightful places before addressing the Dream Lord's words, "What's wrong with what I'm doing? I am simply trying to help."

"Your helping is causing disruptions in my realm. A great feat, I will admit, but not one I look kindly upon." There was a feeling that he was impressed with her ability and power, but not happy with it.

"I'm not sure whether I should take that as a compliment." She sighed and turned to face him, "I enjoy what I do, helping these people. And as much as I would love to continue my dreamwork should you forbid and warn me from doing it then I shall cease." She nodded with a sense of finality.

"Take my warning as you wish, witch." He said, his words hanging in the air and then Morpheus, King of Dreams, was gone.

"Don't be a stranger…"

The next time Y/N had a customer, requesting something to do with sleep and dreams, she turned them down in a heartbeat, not quite willing to find out what the Dream Lord's warning meant. However, that evening, sitting in her cottage on her bed, fire burning away and studying her grimoire she felt a presence in her room, one that wasn't entirely unwelcome but still put her on edge and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She looked up from the book she was reading and copying out of and saw that same man who had visited her weeks ago, sitting at her table, hands neatly folded. His eyes pierced hers, the stars and the moons reflecting in them, "I saw you deny your customer."

"Is that not what you asked of me, not to mess with dreams and sleep?" The Witch gently shut her book and sat up properly to address the Endless.

"I have changed my mind." His lips pursed, "I wish to help you Witch."

She was slightly taken aback but accepted his change in attitude happily, "How? Why?"

"So many questions all at once." he stood, "I am going to teach you how to manipulate dreams and sleep, how to enter The Dreaming, how to simply flick a finger and have someone doze off, all because I have taken a liking to you and admire your dedication to your…craft. After much thought I have decided that if you are going to make a difference to people's dreams and nightmares then you might as well learn to do it properly, no?"

Gently he reached a hand out, "Come, I have much to teach you."

Morpheus stood outside his lover's house, hands in his pockets and Matthew on his shoulder, a thousand thoughts running through his head. "Who is this woman?" Matthew asked, ruffling his feathers.

"This woman, is the only person who I have ever taught the magick of dreams to. She was - is - my lover and I have been so stupid." The last part was a whisper, mostly to himself. Her cottage had changed since he had last seen it, more modernised. There were fields behind it now, and a garden at the front which grew a wide range of plants and flowers.

Morpheus swallowed his nerves and walked up the new path that ran through her garden to her front door. She had installed a knocker on her door, one that was shaped like a hand that he gently slipped his own hand into and lifted. Three knocks and he stepped back a bit, waiting for her to answer the door.

"Could you calm down? I can practically hear your heart." Matthew huffed, still shuffling about on Morpheus' shoulder. "Hush, Matthew." Dream murmured and he was about to say more when there was noise from behind the door and then it opened.

She looked exactly the same as he remembered her, that same hair and those bright eyes, slightly mismatched way of dressing and that smile, "How can I help-" her eyes widened as they landed on Morpheus and she stumbled back a bit, "Dream- Morpheus-"

"Y/N…" He was struggling to find words but he didn't have to say much before she had run into his arms, burying herself in his coat and holding him close. "Morpheus, oh goddess, oh my stars." She was weeping into his coat, before she pulled away to look at him, hands coming up to touch and hold his face, "Where were you? How long have you been back?"

The familiarity of her nature made him smile softly, "Always asked so many questions…I was captured by a magus and I've been back for a few weeks and I am so sorry I didn't come sooner, I just- The Corinthian and Desire and-"

"I think you said enough with Corinthian." She smiled lightly, "It's so good to see you - to have you back, Morpheus."

"I want you to come live in The Dreaming with me." The words came from nowhere, but she could feel the weight and meaning on them. He was taking a chance on her like he had taken a chance in the beginning.

"Okay…okay." she nodded, took a deep breath and then threw herself back into his arms, "I missed you so much."

"You're all I have thought about for two centuries. I can't tell you how sorry I am for being late." He pressed his forehead to hers and then he kissed her, almost like he hadn't felt human touch in just over two hundred years.

#morpheus X reader #morpheus imagine #dream X reader #dream of the endless X reader #the sandman X reader #sandman X reader #witch!reader #X reader #fanfic #sandman fanfic #dream of the endless #lord morpheus X reader #lord morpheus

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ambassadorarlert · 7 months

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totally self-ship coded. but anyone can enjoy. an overdue continuation of this. it feels weird to write referring to myself. i feel naked. nsfw mention so 18+ MDNI

- armin is such a skeptic he’s so annoying

- likes to debate things to a.) push my buttons b.) make me think harder about my beliefs and sometimes “things just happen”

- he doesn’t know what i know.

- armin doesn’t even know i’ve sewn sigils into his clothes and on the bottoms of his shoes, added moon water to everything he consumes, put crystals and herbs in his pillowcase to help him sleep.

- even tho armin is a skeptic he’s still respectful and supportive. L

- he doesn’t touch things without asking or if there’s something he’s absolutely not supposed to touch he doesn’t even look at it.

- pretends to not see the random jars full of mysterious and suspicious liquids stored in dark places.

“why is it, like, black and molded?? shouldn’t you throw it out??”

- no.

- makes an effort to understand herbs, crystals, divination tools and what they’re used for.

- i’m using a pendulum and he comes up behind me like

“you do know that there’s only a 50% chance of you being right, right?”

- shut up.

- reads and flips through my books while i’m working on stuff.

- lo and behold armin actually learns something new.

- he picks things out that seem the most interesting and does his own private research

- doesn’t understand astrology at all.

“_______ isn’t supported by science.”

- SHUT UP.

- will try to help during rituals and things.

“what does this do? what is this for? what does that mean?”

- i convinced armin to let me read his tarot cards and I was so spot on he cried and released a lot of emotional tension he didn’t know he had

- that’s when he stopped questioning everything so hard lmao

- armin especially likes all my crystals. he like holds them up in the light and examines them carefully.

- likes to rub palm stones on his face and say

“is it working? think it’s working”

- is also tempted to put the small tumbled ones in his mouth or bite into larger ones.

“this looks like soap.”

- picks up rocks, feathers, leaves, sticks, any bones he finds, and brings them to me.

“you can use this for your craft/for your altar”

- also is 100% down to let me use his hair for “hexes and spells”

- he doesn’t even understand what that means.

- armin gifted me a vial necklace and put a few drops of his own cologne in it, and another with his blood in it.

- he won’t tell me how he put the blood in there but he insists that it’s totally his.

- asks about sex magick.

“if we’re setting our intentions and lighting candles, doesn’t that make this a ritual?”

- side eyes all my warding and protective measures but still wants to help bc it’s his house too.

- i let him sprinkle black salt in the windows, selenite and black tourmaline above every door.

- we blow cinnamon through the front door together <3

- he can’t even deny that our house feels different from everyone else’s. it’s homier, cozier, safer.

- low key loves when i have all the windows open, incense burning, music playing, cleansing the house. usually on a Saturday or Sunday.

- we smell like lavender and dragons blood. and a little bit of weed.

2023. do not copy or repost any work by arlertwitch on any other platform. violators will be prosecuted.

#pretend this is armin x witch!reader #armin arlert #self ship #my writing #armin x black reader #armin x y/n #armin x you #armin x fem reader #armin x reader #armin x gn reader #armin fluff #armin imagine #armin headcanons #kelsmin

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no-pilots-please · 2 years

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The Interruption

Part I: The Dry Spell

Part II: The Dinner Date

WARNINGS: Angst to fluff. Mentions of sex. Swearing. Mentions of death.

. . . .

Admiral Kasinsky had died. Unlike some of his colleagues at Top Gun, Hangman had been part of the Pacific fleet for quite some time. He had known the Admiral and worked under him for six years now, and felt the loss was a great man gone too soon. The funeral was on a Sunday. Hangman donned his dress whites. He stood at attention, saluted, and played his role as lieutenant.

The image of Maverick pinning wings into his coffin causes him to lose sleep.

In the following weeks, Hangman is angry. Too many thoughts about his career, his life, and his future swim through his head. Overshadowing them is the constant cloud of the mission. Cyclone tried to change the mission parameters, which Maverick took personally, and rightfully so. The grown men's egos went to battle. Maverick won-of course he did. Jake would never speak the words aloud, but Pete Mitchell was the best pilot he'd ever met. Better than him. Mav could make the run. Hangman knew he could make it too.

But that image of Maverick punching a pin into Iceman’s coffin jars his thoughts when he’s trying to focus. Iceman died a husband, father, hero, accomplished high ranking officer of the US Navy, a legend in his own right. But with that comes the sacrifices he asked his family to make, putting the job above them even when it was hard. At some point, he ranked out of flying and became the man giving the orders instead of taking them.

Maverick had been serving just as long as Iceman. He was dedicated heart and soul to flying, at the expense of everything else. No promotions, no wife, no children. Hell, not even a dog. Mav was married to aviation. No outside distractions existed. He was a man with the singular focus it took to be the absolute best. Period.

Did Hangman want to be Iceman, or Maverick? Did he even want to be either?

Why was it your voice in his head that seemed to ask him these questions?

. . . .

8:22pm on Wednesday. Your phone buzzes with a text from Hangman.

I'm coming over.

You looked at the work in front of you, then took a brief survey of how much more time you needed to get it done.

YOU: Not free tonight. Let's get together this week?

HANGMAN: I'm on my way.

YOU: I'm busy.

HANGMAN: Be there in 20

From your position at your desk-kitchen table workspace, you throw your phone against the couch and sigh in frustration. The past three weeks had been really fun, meeting for drinks or dates and hooking up whenever you got a free evening. You were having all sorts of very satisfying orgasms with the absurdly good looking pilot, but that's really all it was. As much as the pilot had begged for a continual ego-check on that Sunday night dinner, he didn't seem to be taking that seriously. Nothing seemed to get through as much as your take-charge moment that first night together. Was he even interested in keeping himself grounded? You had to wonder. So far he only responded when he was checked in the bedroom. Your frustration with his "me-first" attitude was coming to a head tonight. You were buried in work on a Wednesday night, desperately trying to make a deadline for the following day. There was no time for Hangman.

For a while, you ignored the buzzing of the phone against the sofa cushions. You could not ignore the heavy knock on your front door.

Rolling your eyes, you begrudgingly open the front door, one hand on your hip.

"I said it's not a good time, Jake."

"I need to talk to you." he interjects, suddenly standing up straight when you open the door. He's wearing gray sweatpants and a matching grey sweatshirt, military issue workout gear. You'd realized over the past few weeks he didn't have too many civilian clothes. He'd packed light. It was a constant reminder that his time here was temporary.

"You need to let me in-" his voice rings deeply, more urgent. The tone, you realized, is as rehearsed as the smirk he wears when he wants something. Part of the persona of Hangman the Pilot. It sets you off.

"First of all, asshole, this is my home. I don't take orders, you have no rank here. This isn't the Navy." Your own voice is stern. Steady, even, cold. You don't move.

"What could you possibly be busy with right now? Wait- is someone else here?" He asks, eyes narrowing. Jealousy rises in his throat, his eyes darting between you and the sliver of the home he can see inside.

"First off, its none of your fucking business why I can't be at your beck and call. Im not your girlfriend, Jake. And, even if I was, I wouldnt just drop everything at a moments notice. I've got a major deadline tomorrow and I'm behind. I don't have time tonight." You know you don't owe him an explanation, but you give him one anyway. His lips part, as if hung up on the next thing to say. The ego check he's been needing slips from you before you realize.

"You're not the only one with work stress."

As soon as the words leave your lips, you feel a little bad. Your work was very important to you, and very important to the company it was for. But it wasn't national security. It wasn't life and death. But for Jake, it's exactly what he needed to hear. It's as if you took the wind out of his sails. His shoulders soften and his he takes a deep breath.

"You're right. I'm not. I'm sorry." He says, stepping back towards the edge of your porch, hands in his pockets. He looks for a long moment at your scowling expression as you guard the door. Once again, the woman before him is not taking any of his shit and making it known loud and clear. The ego check he needs. A smile, the genuine one, plays slightly across his face. "See; this is why I like you."

You aren't letting him off that easy. He thinks hes having a moment of real feelings, but from where you stand it just looks like charm dialed up to 10. "What do you really want, Jake?" Your own posture softens, opening the door wider. He can see a stack of papers and the blue glow of your monitors at the kitchen table. It's a glimpse into your life, you as a person, that hits him square in the chest. You weren't just a woman who existed just to serve his needs. You existed in places that had nothing to do with him. You had your own challenges.

Suddenly, he thinks he should go.

You can see in his expression that he's wrestling with something.

"I just...I need to get out of my head. Today sucked. I thought-I hoped-you could distract me. I needed to get off base." Jake's voice is even, but there is unrest in the way he shrugs and shifts his weight from foot to foot. He gestures to the workspace behind you as he continues. "You've got your own things going on though, I see that. Sorry. I'll get going."

"Jake." You stop him as he sets foot down the steps. He glances over his shoulder, somehow looking incredibly handsome despite the harsh yellow light from your porch. It highlights the high points of his features and lights his green eyes.

"If--if you need to get out of 'the bubble', you can come in and just chill. So long as you don't distract me."

You've taken to calling the environment of Top Gun as a whole "the bubble". Those pilots were eat-sleep-breathing training and the mission. Hangman had said it was the best environment in the world for making the best on the planet. Why did he need to get out of there right now? Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"Yeah? I won't. I'll just watch some Netflix and veg on the couch. You wont even know I'm here. Promise."

He's impossible not to notice, you think. Somehow even the grey sweatsuit cannot hide the physique underneath. Even the bad lighting cannot undo his looks. But he wont get that ego boost from you, not after his outburst. "Okay. Come on in."

"Thank you, sweetheart." He reaches out to wrap you in a tight hug. It was uncharacteristic of your relationship so far. You were intimate, but you weren't really affectionate. Not the pair to hold hands or cuddle on the couch. Witty banter over drinks or dinner, and hot sex afterwards was more your speed. Something was not right.

Unfortunately, you didn't have the time to press. You gripped his back and returned the hug, and shut the door behind him. Jake shuffled off his shoes and flopped down on your couch with a heavy groan. You took back your seat at the makeshift desk and watched as he clicked through Netflix. Some Will Ferrell comedy flicks up on the screen as the pilot started half-watching and he scrolling through the phone. You placed your headphones in and continued to work, happy that Jake was again making good on his promise.

Over the next two hours you shared the space together, but separately. You were cranking through your work and putting the finishing touches on the deliverable. At some point, Jake helped himself to a seltzer from your fridge and politely interrupted you to ask if he could have some of the leftover pizza he saw in there. You nod and offer a slight smile, placing the headset back on and continuing to type away.

Jake goes onto your back porch to take a call. You can't help but notice how the warmth goes right out of your apartment. Working overtime hunched at your desk was way more enjoyable when he was sprawled out on your couch, laughing at the movie on TV. You were still sort of mad at him, intruding on you like your life wasn't as important as his was. But you knew something wasn't right and you couldn't help but worry about him.

You hit send on that final deliverable at 10:14pm. Jake was still outside on the phone. Peering through the glass of your patio door, you could see the pilot shaking his head, a solemn expression on his face. You made the decision not to disturb him. Padding towards the bathroom, you decided to settle in for the night. Brushing your teeth and washing your face, you wonder what has gotten the aviator so worked up.

His large frame appears in your bathroom doorway. "Hey." His voice is gravelly, tired.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. I was on the phone with my cousin, talking through my existential crisis."

There it was, admission from Mr. CalmCoolCollected that something was deeply bothering him. You were glad that he got to talk to someone about it. But why did he come here?

"Okay." You say softly as you pat your face dry. Gently, you press the hot cloth to your eyes, tired and sore from straining at the monitor the past 14 hours.

"Look, I'm sorry about barging in on you like this. It wasn't right of me. I'm not your responsibility. I was just...I am having a hard time. I didn’t know what to do."

You nod at the pilot as he runs a hand through his hair, trying to sooth his own frustration. Looking into his eyes, you place a gentle hand to his shoulder.

"Thank you for apologizing. Do you want to talk about it? Is that why you came here?"

Eyes divert your gaze as he glances to your hand on his shoulder and then to the floor. You were being way too sweet to him after he was a complete ass. He shakes his head.

"No. Not tonight. I've burdened you enough with my shit today."

"Well, you're here now. We can talk if you want."

You're looking up at him, hair in a messy bun and not a stitch of makeup on your face, and he can't help but lift his gaze from the floor to you. Hangman fights the desire to wrap you in a tender embrace and just kiss you in the bathroom doorway, but he thinks better of it. Stuffing his hands into his pockets to give them something to do, he returns his gaze to the floor as he sidesteps to let you back into the hallway.

"I just...my contract is up next year. And I don't know what I'm going to do."

The words still you.

“Jake. You did not come over to my apartment demanding I drop everything because you aren’t sure what decision you are going to make in a year.”

“Yeah. Kinda. It’s just a lot.” Is all he can offer, suddenly embarrassed. It’s a rare emotion for the lieutenant.

Pivoting suddenly in the hallway, you reach out and lock your hand around his wrist. His eyes go wide but he obediently follows you the the apartment. Tugging him through the apartment, you take him to the living room and basically force him to sit on the couch. Taking a seat opposite him, you cross your legs and your arms.

“Don’t be all ‘oh, its not your problem’ because you came over to my place after I told you not to and made it my problem. You have my attention. Jake Seresin, talk.”

The blond leans back dramatically on your couch. You can’t help but admire the way even his neck is muscular and masculine, sexual even, as he throws his head against the back of the couch. The thought is not appropriate. He takes a deep sigh and just starts talking, jarring you from your thought.

“The admiral died.” he starts. As Jake continues, the thoughts tumble from his mouth as he sorts through everything in his brain. You pick out several gems like “I’m like, really good at the single life” “Maverick lives in a hanger, for gods sake.” and “I’m the only modern pilot to shoot down another plane.” Slowly, as the words pour out, they being to paint a picture of a man at a crossroads in his life. He was at the top of his game, the top of his career field among a bunch of other elites. What was next? He didn’t know, and it scared him. You could tell.

Jake continues prattling on, body animated as if working out the energy he’s been containing all week. Nodding as you listen, you move towards the kitchen and he follows, rambling along. You run the kettle and prepare two mug of warm tea. The aviator, leaning against your countertop, quiets as you hand him a mug of lavender chamomile tea.

“Just...drink. It’ll help you calm down.” You encourage him, as he raises the mug to his nose and inhales the scent.

“You’re really too nice to me, you know.” His smile crinkles his eyes softly. Damn, he was so handsome. Even at the edge of an existential crisis wearing grey sweatpants, you couldn’t help but admire the man in your living room. He seemed so comfortable here, and for a brief moment you imagine what it would be like waking up every morning to him here in your kitchen.

Don’t catch feelings.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Seresin.” Is the best you can do, ignoring your better judgement to give him any complement.

He chuckles. Taking a long, calming sip of the tea, he looks at you. “Am I crazy?”

“I don’t know, Jake. I wish I could help but, I just don’t know anything about this.” What could you tell this man you’d only known three weeks? You had barely known him when he showed up on your front porch a few hours ago, but the last half hour or so of Jake spilling his thoughts and insecurities on your couch made you feel like you did. Gazing at him softly, you rub your eyes, fighting sleep that is creeping in.

“You did. Thank you.” Jake finishes his mug of tea and flashes a false grin into the bottom of the mug. “I should get going.” His voice is soft. Pushing himself off the counter, he starts towards the door.

“Stay.” Involuntarily, you take a step towards him. Its a response to him leaving, but part of you wonders if it’s a secret plea for more. You don’t want the warmth to go out of your apartment. “You shouldn’t be driving this late, you’re tired too.”

“Yeah? I’ve got to be up early.” Jake closes the gap from the door to the kitchen with soft footsteps until he is standing so close that you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

“That’s okay.” You nod, voice so soft its barely more than a whisper. You bridge the gap between the two of you, reaching your hand out to take his. “Lets go to bed.”

. . . .

Jake fell asleep with his arm draped across your side, almost spooning you. His touch spreads a warm, soft feeling through you. Sensations were completely different than the normal electric lust that coursed through you at every touch. Hangman was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

Nothing happened between the two of you that night. Everything happened between the two of you that night.

#jake seresin x female reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman fanfiction #Jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #hangman top gun #top gun maverick fic #jake seresin angst #hangman angst #hangman fluff #top gun maverick #hangman x female reader #hangman x reader #hangman x oc

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windvexer · 1 year

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Hi there Chicken!

Do you have a good fast cash spell?

In my specific paradigm a good fast cash spell has got to have Fire and Earth.

It's got to have Fire if you want it to be fast. Fire goes very quickly, you see.

It's got to have Earth if you want it to be physical, material, tangible. Earth brings substance. If you wanted like, a good business idea for making money later on, try Air instead.

A candle will serve for adding your Fire. It may be of any color, but a color you associate with money or wealth is best.

Plant allies serve very well for adding in Earth. In my experience, Chamomile and Basil work excellently as a team for the purpose of drawing in a good amount of money and being able to hold onto it.

If you like, conceptualize Chamomile as being gold coins, and Basil as being a big green sack you carry it around in like that billionaire duck.

Most ideally work on a Sunday or Wednesday (although any day will do just fine).

If you like, anoint the candle with a little oil (any oil is fine) either from top to bottom (drawing down into your life) for a taper candle, or clockwise (generation; sun-wise) for a tea light or jar candle. This is optional and mostly functions to telegraph your intent to the magic, which is a great eldritch beast eager to play along but desperate to be let in on the rules of the game you're inventing as it watches.

Light the candle.

Now communication is key. You do not need to be able to hear anything back (but mind any gut instincts of the nope variety). But you're a squishy human that communicates in strange squeaks and clicks, and to the world of magic you're as about as predictable as a kitten with the zoomies. The spirits need to know exactly what's going on here, like a bunch of concerned apartment dwellers trying to figure out exactly what you're getting out of eating plastic. So do your best to explain yourself.

The candle is lit, yes? So let's carry on.

Indicate to the Chamomile and Basil what the hell they're supposed to do, as they can do many things and have no way of knowing that you're after money in this particular instance. Communicate with them plainly (or if this is not Fancy enough, write up little rhymes to chant over them - I suspect plants like having their own odes very much and they are a great icebreaker when working with new allies).

Anyway, clearly indicate to the herbs and candle in whatever way you desire (thinking loudly, speaking, signing, and so forth) that the three of them (Chamomile, Basil, and Candle-Flame) are to work together as a little team to get you some fast cash.

Communicate something like, "Candle-Flame, you eat so fast - your life is a thousand little explosions every second. I need that kind of verve. You give your energy to Chamomile and Basil, and elevate them with eagle wings of flame, so they may soar with speed to do my bidding."

And then something like, "Chamomile, your face is like a gold coin on a satin pillow. You are a money sprite, and bringing wealth gives you great joy. So do me this solid: take the power that Candle-Flame gives you, and go find me at least $X amount of money. And if you cannot get me $X amount of money, get me at least $Y amount of money. And if you can't get me $Y amount of money, send me some sign to help me know why this could not be done for me. And in all things work with Basil."

And then furthermore say something like, "Basil, your blossoms are like spears and your leaves are like shields, and your roots know all the secrets of treasure and wealth within the earth. You are a soldier of fortune, so I will hire you now: Make good space in my life for $X amount of money. Sew a hidden pocket into the fabric of my life so money may be left there without getting lost or stolen away. Prepare the way for Chamomile, so when she returns with my money, she can easily give it to me. Adorn yourself with a cloak of flame from Candle-Flame, and drink its fire to warm you up, so that all of this may be done well and fast."

Okay, so then get your little offering (a shot of whiskey will do, or some bread, or I don't know, and offering).

And say, "Candle-Flame, Chamomile, and Basil, thank you to the three of you for hearing my request. In exchange for this work I give you this offering, to make you strong while you work for me, and for your enjoyment. But if you have already decided not to work for me due to some unintended slight between us, take this offering as a gift so in the future we may meet as friends."

Now at this point you'll likely want to seal up the spell in some way or another, like with a good ol' Picardian make it so or maybe a nice amen or so mote it be or whatever you like. Or maybe you like to tie things up by visualizing everything "getting to work" or whatever.

Take up the herbs and put them in a little container (it should not be airtight; the spirits must be able to come and go), perhaps a small fabric bag or a dish. Put the herb container right next to the offering and the candle.

Let the candle burn all the way down. Do not remove the offerings until the candle is burned down (remember, Candle-Flame should be able to enjoy them too). So it's better to use a smaller candle. Leave the offering overnight or longer if you can.

Later, go back to the offering and clean it up in your usual method.

Regardless how the spell manifests, it's polite to give another small offering to the spirits as thanks for coming through. This is just good business; you want to be known as someone who strikes a generous bargain and treats their helpers well.

When manifestation is achieved or all hope of manifestation is lost, dispose of the herbal remains in whatever way you like. The candle stub may be disposed of immediately after burning down, or wait and dispose of it with the herbs.

#answered #spell #money #prosperity #wealth #spirit work #tbl

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elvensorceress · 1 year

Text

Sunday snippet 💕

since it’s Sunday and the lovely and amazing @fleurdebeton @dickley-buddie @gaydisasterdiaz @lostinabuddiehaze @spotsandsocks @fatedbuck @rogerzsteven @ajunerose @eddiediazisascorpio @monsterrae1 @prettyboybuckley @megslovesbooks @shortsighted-owl @ashavahishta @kananjarus @swiftiebuckleys @sibylsleaves @hetrez @masterminddiaz all tagged me in some things (omgosh I love you all) but I was finishing up Eddie vs Feelings and didn’t post anything, I figured we make up for it today?

How would we feel about some Love Spell? 💕😘

Eddie opens his jar of crystals and looks through them. When he moves a few to one side, he touches a rose quartz and it mocks him by shutting off and turning dark. No love for you, cursed one. He can’t even touch it any longer.

He should give away all of those. He’ll never be able to use them again. He has maybe five or six in varying shapes and sizes. He could give them to his parents and sisters, Abuela and Tía Pepa, too. If they wanted to keep them. The last of Eddie’s love should belong to them.

One by one he picks out the rose quartz and sets them on the bad end table by the broken couch. A couple raw pieces, one smooth and tumbled, a little tower. It all turns dark when he touches it, but clears and becomes light and pink and glowy again when he lets go. But the last one, he holds onto, even as it turns black. It fits neatly in his palm — it’s carved into a smooth, round heart.

Tía Pepa had given it him. To remind him of softness, sweetness, gentleness, of love that is unconditional and comes in all kinds, sizes, and mysterious ways.

If he thinks of her, can he still feel it? If he tries hard enough, can he remember having love?

The crystal is still smooth and carries something soothing. It’s just out of reach. But it’s there.

It’s there, love exists. It’s just. Not his.

The steps down to the basement creak with the weight of someone bigger than a six year old. Eddie closes the stone in his hand as if Tía Pepa herself might shield him from whatever is coming. Either it’s his mother coming to shine happiness in his face because he’s getting rid of all magic. Or it’s his father coming to talk because his mother is upset.

At this point, Eddie doesn’t know which would be worse. He only looks up when his father stops a few feet away from him.

Eddie goes back to tucking the rest of his crystals safely into his hide box. He slips the heart quartz into his pants pocket.

“I’ve had a talk with your mother,” is how his father starts, and nausea creeps into Eddie’s stomach.

So, they’ve reached the lecture part of the program where Eddie is a horrible, inconsiderate son who made his mother cry because of his life choices, in which he always chooses the wrong thing or fails in some way because he’s never good enough.

His empty chest already has stabs of pain through it, but he breathes slowly and doesn’t look up. He'd argued because it’s stupid and won’t work. Magic is in everything. But if she wants him to pretend like he can't feel it. If she would feel better thinking that magic is the only thing that might break Eddie, then so be it. But he’d been angry. And so had she.

He gathers a large bundle of dried herbs kept in zip top plastic bags and tucks them into his box to hide away. “What about?”

His father rests a hand on Eddie’s box, his items to hide and keep box, and Eddie freezes.

He should have done this first. He should have been quicker. Those are all of his favorite crystals, his personal spell jars, his tools, amulets he made, a wand Abuela crafted for him with dried lavender and indigo blue ribbon, pressed leaves that hold dreams, his never-ending candle carved with wishes, his own tarot deck. It’s not one he uses as much as his father has used his own, but it’s his. It’s special. Hell, his first communion rosary is in there because his mother gave it to him and he never could give it away even when he couldn’t use it for its intended purpose anymore. But he kept it with his most precious possessions.

He should have packed and hidden all his favorite items before he did anything else. Why didn’t he do that? What if he has to give those things away?

His father looks at him with a heavy, stern gaze. “Are you honestly giving up magic for good?”

Eddie looks around as if there is something that will tell him the right answer. His father knows magic. His father should understand. At least a little. His mother has never been against magic before. She’s just worried. She’s been upset since Eddie cursed himself. He knows that.

But Eddie’s empty chest is pounding. He can’t help but look at his box. He has to keep those things. He can’t give up everything. He won’t even use them anymore. He’ll just lock them away and he won’t practice, but they can’t be thrown out and discarded like they’re trash. They’re hopes and dreams and happiness and calmness and gifts and healing and secrets and longing, and everything he has left of his heart.

His throat is tight and he doesn’t know what to say. So he shrugs. “Mom is worried. She asked me to. I don’t want to hurt her.”

His father frowns and seems displeased, and Eddie just doesn’t want there to be yelling. He can’t take the yelling. He knows he’s a disappointment and a failure and nothing he ever does will be the way his father wants him to do it, but hearing it, feeling the words, the anger, the guilt — it’s too much. Eddie is glass right now. He’ll do something awful and stupid like break or maybe cry. He can’t do that.

He’s not glass. He’s not. He’s ice, he’s stone, he’s iron, he’s steel, he’s impervious.

His hands grow cold and start turning, changing, even without him consciously trying to manifest it. His skin, his muscles, the nerves, bones, blood vessels of his fingers, hands, forearms start turning to frozen metal.

It’s an illusion. It’s temporary. He thinks. He’s pretty sure? But it is also exhausting turning himself cold and inanimate. In a moment, he’ll likely become dizzy, probably more nauseated if the past is any precedent. He might even pass out again.

He shivers but can’t move. It started at his hands but travels further until it’s engulfing his shoulders and swallowing down his chest, and it’s cold but there’s also nothing. There’s nothing. Nothing.

He’s nothing.

He’s weak, and dizzy, and his eyes are so heavy. He could succumb. Plunge into darkness. Finally sleep. Finally rest and never worry about being incomplete or fucked up.

“Eddie. Eddie. Stop.” His father grips his arms and fire bursts through aching bones and muscles. It makes them normal, it makes them warm. It’s nice being warm. It’s nice being touched, protected, cared about.

Eddie sways and tries to keep steady but the back and forth is whiplash, and expending his own energy without any magical aids is exhausting. It would be even if he weren’t damaged. “I’m sorry,” he quickly says, and some of the ice stops growing. He can make it recede. It’s not real. He’s in complete control.

Except he’s in control of nothing and now everything hurts. Is he on fire? Is he frozen? Is he tethered, is he lost? Is he still standing and surviving without pieces of his soul? Or is he shattered and dying? “I wasn’t trying…” he tells his father but doesn’t know what to say. He was trying to be strong and unbothered. He was trying to shove it away, lock it down, move on, get over it.

The ice metal taking over his body is stronger. It grows even where his father is gripping him. It’s growing blizzard windstorm stinging and changing his skin. It’s stabbing and each one is deeper, chipping away at him, burrowing deeper into his flesh and turning it into something else.

It’s one more thing Eddie has done wrong, hasn’t been able to do right, and he wants to cry and beg forgiveness. But he can’t. He can’t. He can’t breathe. The air is too thin. His chest and stomach are turning hard, solid in a different way. Iron and ice and stone and steel.

He conjured impervious. He conjured lifeless. And he doesn’t have any power to stop it.

He tries to make his fingers move, at least enough to clutch his father before he falls. His throat is thin, his mouth his dry, but he rasps out a plea for forgiveness, even if this is all he’ll ever do. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” His father is curt, angry, there’s still anger like fire pulsing against Eddie’s skin, but not part of him.

Not any longer.

Eddie had fire once. He doesn’t anymore. There’s whistling like wind and the smell of metallic frost. It’s filling his lungs with sharp stinging when he tries to breathe.

He’s the whistling. His breath is nothing but thin, reedy gasps. It’s leaving him. It might leave him for good.

His father holds tightly and takes them over to the lopsided sofa. He directs Eddie to lie on the lumpy cushions while he kneels beside him and rests a hand on Eddie’s forehead.

Whatever he does, it makes the freezing whirlwind lessen. The pain in Eddie’s hands and arms recedes. It almost feels… it’s almost soft and warm and being tucked in bed and kissed goodnight.

It’s the one Christmas morning when his father said he had to work but then showed up to be with them anyway. It’s almost the elusive, out of reach, shining thing simmering in the crystal he tucked away and tried to keep.

It’s warm and right there in his pocket. It’s his. It’s supposed to be. Eddie’s arms hurt to move. They’re stiff and cold, weak, trapped, but he has to reach. He has to find it. He needs it.

Eddie pulls the stone from his pocket and clutches it to his chest. It’s almost there. The warmth, the softness, the blanket that falls over loneliness and makes it disappear, the laughter, the loyalty and companionship, the arms around him, the inner peace, the affectionate lovemaking, the belonging, being known inside and out and still accepted. It’s love of every kind.

It’s kind of his. It’s so close. It just doesn’t fit inside his soul anymore.

He whimpers like he’s splintering. Everything is blurry and all the daylight is fading.

His father strokes his head and touches Eddie’s hand. “Give me the crystal.”

Eddie’s hand trembles and tears prickle his eyes. Not his Tía Pepa stone. Anything but that. He’ll give up everything else, but not this one.

But he’s weak. He can’t argue, he can’t even hold on to it. His hand goes limp, numb and tingly. His fingers are rigid, purple, frostbitten. His eyes flutter closed, but he tries to keep them open as long as he can.

His father takes the crystal, wraps it in his own palm, and touches it to Eddie’s chest above his heart, but with the barrier of his own fingers. It can’t change the way rose quartz always does when Eddie touches it. The power it has can’t be blocked. It radiates warmth and protection.

His father whispers something, words Eddie can’t decipher, but there’s love in them. There’s love. He can feel it. The unreachable, untouchable thing that never can belong to him again. It’s still there.

His father loves him.

It’s so much and Eddie can’t bear it. But the pain he brought upon himself fades. It’s melting. No more ice, no more metal and stone. His father’s love is bright and unyielding and it swirls through Eddie’s chest and spirals warmth between all his broken pieces. It’s strong enough to drive away his manifestations of frozen death.

How is he loved? How is he accepted and cherished and not a failure? He grips his dad’s hand and tears burst out of him. He can’t help it. Not when it feels like this. Not when he was sure he would never earn it.

His father’s thumb strokes over his forehead and he leans closer until his head touches Eddie’s. There are still whispers, incantations Eddie can’t hear, but it pours back into him until he can breathe.

For a moment, he has love of his own again. His missing, broken heart can’t kill him if he’s still loved.

He’s still loved.

His father loves him.

#seven sentence sunday #we'll pretend this is seven sentences #I suppose?#fic: love spell #jenwyn wip

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sinsandsuccubus · 2 years

Text

SEVEN DEVILS - Jack Harlow (I)

Context: “See, I was dead when I woke up this morning. I'll be dead before the day is done.”

Genre: Fantasy Series

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairings: Priest!Jack Harlow X Witch!Fem!Reader

Warnings: n/a

A/N: Hello everyone! Some of you may or may not know but fantasy is one of my favorite genres to write. I've written so many unshared pieces, many untold stories about fantasy stories of many things. So when I got this idea, I decided I wanted to act on it immediately.

With that said, this story is based around witchcraft. I want to fully disclose that details in this story do not represent the art of the craft and are simply creations from my own mind. The title represents the name of the song I got inspiration from, which is Seven Devils by Florence and the Machine. Please do not take the title as an association with witchcraft because that isn't what it is.

This is a part of a series. Click here for Part 2!

Masterlist ☽☾

☽ ☾

The moonlight casted a ring of spotlight into the forest, trees standing tall, blocking out intruders. Claps and cheers bounced amongst the bark, long skirts and flowing shirts spinning. The fire burned loud, the crackling adding to the music.

You stood amongst your sisters, cheering for the full moon, a Supermoon! A moon manifested and full of energy and life, given by the Moon Goddess. You’d always found the sight so beautiful, standing outside the cheers, paying close attention to the moon and the movements in the trees.

The hold the distraction had on you didn’t allow you to notice your actual sister step beside you, hair blowing in the wind, black as onyx, long like Rapunzel.

“You know, if someone were to try and murder you, they’d be successful.” She spoke, forcing you to jump, not noticing her rapid appearance.

“Don’t scare me like that!”

“Don’t be so naive.”

“You have some nerve.”

“I know, I got it from you.”

The two of you looked at one another before bursting into giggles.

You and your little sister shared a bond like no other. When your Priest of a father died, you lost the protection he placed the two of you under as the children of a witch.

How ironic. A witch and a priest. Married. And had children.

Who would have thought?

Your mother had taught you her ways in silence, many days in the basement your father had installed a hidden door for. Spells, herbs, crystals, charms. Everything a witch could desire.

She taught you how to craft your own grimoire, and make wands out of sticks.

“Wands are a good way to control your energy. When you’re older, you’ll be able to cast spells with the flick of your fingers.”

She taught you how to dress, how to make clothes with slits for pockets, for crystals and trinkets. And how to hide daggers in your boots for protection.

She also made you necklaces, that would dazzle in moonlight, charged with energy for protection.

She taught you how to manipulate your own energy, and eventually others, you and your sister making your father cook your favorite meal instead of the chili he always cooked on Sundays.

By day, you were children of the Lord.

But by night you were witches of the Moon.

That was, until your mother passed.

You hadn’t known what had come over her, though you were sure she was either hexed or poisoned, she fell ill. And within 11 days, she had passed.

It happened so fast, too sudden, too soon.

The funeral wasn’t up to par, as the town had always been suspicious of your family. Sometimes you’d find people spitting on her grave, to which you made sure to make their lives a living hell, adding small amounts of spices to the Pie-In-A-Jar your family was known for to cause chaos in their lives.

Sometimes you lost customers.

Sometimes you didn’t.

It was worth it.

Your family didn’t deserve that.

She didn’t deserve that.

☽ ☾

You watched as your father’s light dulled until it was almost out, your father’s candle on the fireplace dim, beside the two of yours; your mother's stopped short.

It went from spending a night or two at the Church to not coming home at all, the only time seeing him being on days when you went to church, which had also been cut short, since he hadn’t been home to force you to every session.

He made sure you were taken care of however, baskets of food sent to your home every day, jars of jam, and homemade honey from the neighbor down the way.

It wasn’t until one day when the clouds took over, and the rain never stopped it’s harsh downpour, that you found that your father had died.

The people of the church said he had slipped and fallen in a hole, broke his skull.

You didn’t believe a damn word.

Even when he was buried next to your mother, you didn’t believe anything.

And everything went back to normal within the weeks after. No real change.

Expect for the fact that your mother’s grave was no longer spat on.

Even in death, your father protected her. However, he couldn’t protect the two of you.

The food still came. And your neighbor always made the effort to stop by, helping the two of you out when needed.

You were thankful for Mrs. Margaret.

She was the only good thing the two of you had left.

☽ ☾

You were brought back to the moments in front of you by the sound of movement in the trees, the cheers and music coming to a silent chill, you could almost hear a pin drop. Slowly, you moved from your position, looking at the other sister of your coven as well as your actual sister, fear in her eyes.

You eyed the two necklaces your mother had given you, noticing the obvious change in color, the glass now onyx.

“Everyone flee. Now.”

Your coven sisters looked at you, and with a silent nod of their head, they took for the trees, most of them clumping in groups to make it safely home.

You looked at your sister, her feet rooted in the ground like a tree.

“Diana….”

“Sister…”

“Go with Mary and her sisters. I’ll come for you in the morning.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You’re not. You’re letting me handle my own.”

“But-“

You turned to her and took her face in your palms, kissing her warm, flushed cheeks.

“You’ll see me in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

The two of you knitted your hands together in a symbol, watching as light gleamed between the flesh. Looking at you once more, she disappeared, catching up with Mary in no time.

You stood there in silence, whipping your head around to find the source of the movement you heard before.

Swiftly, you moved to the fire, putting it out with a zap of your fingers. Color began to spark between the digits, strong gleams of purple bouncing between your palms.

“Whoever's there, I suggest you make an entrance now.” You spoke loud and clear, voice echoing amongst the trees, the wind beginning to pick up.

Slowly, a figure emerged from the trees, a shadow almost, stepping into the light of the moon.

He was tall, the moon casting a shadow onto his back, projecting his image before your eyes. Curls of warm blonde and light orange topped his head, his face shaven to perfection, silhouette dressed in a long trench coat, perfect for the mild, chilly weather.

Every step he took towards you, you took two steps back, the wind rustling louder and louder, trees whipping and whispering.

“I’d advise you not to step any closer.” You spoke loud, feeling your eyes beginning to shimmer. You didn’t know if he could tell from this distance, but from what you were projecting, he would have to feel intimidated.

“I mean no harm. There’s no need to raise defenses.”

“You were snooping around my friends and sister in the woods. That screams harm.”

"Just trying to learn my way around here."

“In the dark? Very questionable.”

“Could say the same about you.”

“… I’m not going to go back and forth with you.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m just asking you to trust my word. I mean no harm.” You could feel the electricity in your fingers flicker, thoughts ping-ponging in your head.

Something told you to stand down, to let it go.

So you did.

The color slowly faded from your palms as you withdrew from your magic, the electricity in the air flattering.

You stepped closer to the man, looking up at his face, taking in every beautiful detail.

The pink blush of his lips, to the crisp blue of his eyes. The flush on his face he had from the chill in the air, his hair tussled from the wind blowing.

He was stunning.

But something about him was off.

And you couldn’t pick up on it.

You could feel your heart pounding as you ran your fingers over his face, which he melted into. Slowly you moved your hand until you had a firm press of your thumb on his forehead, your eyes sparking in purple. You watched as your eye color matched his, a mantra falling from your lips.

“You will not remember what you saw.”

“I will not remember what I saw.”

“Only our conversation.”

“And ask no questions.”

“And will ask no questions.”

“About the gathering in the woods.”

You withdrew your fingers as the light retracted from both your eyes, the man’s body giving a shiver.

“Where…. Where did our conversation leave off? I’m sorry. I think I zoned out.”

“It’s okay! I was telling you why I was in the woods.”

“Oh, yeah. which was for?”

“The moon. Isn’t she pretty?” You pointed to the sky, the moon gleaming strongly in the light. You basked in its energy, allowing it to soak into your skin.

“It’s… uh, she? She’s very pretty.” You turned to look at him, catching him staring directly at you. You smiled and returned your glance to the moon.

“My mom always believed the moon to be a she. When my sister and I were children, she told us the story of how the Sun and Moon separated. She said…”

“The Sun and the Moon ruled the skies together, as they were one with one another. They loved one another.

However, soon, creatures of the day would fight creatures of the night, so the two would have to separate.

The Moon, however, couldn’t stand to not see the Sun for that long, so every 30th day, the Sun would cast on the Moon, to light up the sky, for all to see in her full glory. And sometimes they would unite as one, to spend a few moments together before returning to the cycle of day and night.”

“It was my mother’s tradition to come out and watch the Moon every night on her 30th Day.” You spoke softly, looking at the ground.

Suddenly, you felt smooth fingertips on your chin, and your head was moved up slowly.

“Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman.”

“She was.” You smiled, to which the handsome stranger returned.

“Oh! I never introduced myself. I can be an ass sometimes,” You giggled at his derogatory term, catching his glance. “I’m Jack.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N…. What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman..” He spoke as he kissed your fingertips that were now resting in his hand, his palms warm.

It was then that you noticed how chilly it actually was, goosebumps spreading across your skin.

“Are you cold?”

“A little.” Swiftly, Jack graced you with his long Jacket, the fabric warm, falling close to your feet.

“You don’t have to Jack...”

“It’s my pleasure,” He winked before popping the next question.

“Can I walk you home? It’s getting late, and I wouldn’t want a woman like you walking home in the dark forest.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You raised your eyebrow at his statement, folding your arms over your chest.

“Nothing! Well, I don’t doubt you're a strong woman. Could probably kick some real ass out here. I just, I wouldn’t like to see you walking home alone. Okay?”

“Okay.” You spoke before taking your fingers in his, slightly pulling him in the direction of your home.

The two of you walked for what felt like a long time, fingers still intertwined. You hadn’t expected that much of a stranger, let alone being this close to him. But for some reason, you felt comfortable with Jack.

You felt safe.

“This is it.” You stopped outside your mid-size home, a garden attached to the side.

“Can I offer you some tea? To return the favor.”

“No, I'm alright.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind, I-“

“It’s okay Y/N. I’ll see you around okay? Have a goodnight.” And he walked off, heading towards the small town you called your home.

“Goodnight.”

Tags ♡︎

@heavyhitterheaux

@vegan4jack

@velvetstreets

@harlowsbby

@harlowcomehome

@raelorns21

@harlowthot

@hoodharlow

@lcandothisallday

@pianoisland

@inluvwithladybug

@softtcurse

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fan fic #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow fic #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow fantasy #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

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aesethewitch · 8 months

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Hey! If you like my posts, recipes, spells, and the like, please consider dropping a dollar in my Ko-Fi tip jar! I'm trying to help my partner pay to fix the transmission controller in his car, which will run us about $800, while also paying our bills. We're saving with his paychecks, but every dollar helps! My current goal is to raise $300 to supplement the checks. [As of 11/8, we're about 14% there! Thanks to everyone who's commissioned or tipped me!]

Supporters of my Ko-Fi will get early, exclusive, or extended access to spells, recipes, grimoire notes, and more! I'm also offering paid tarot readings! If you'd like one, check out my Services commissions page. One-card readings are pay what you want, as low as $1, three-card readings are just $5, and a Celtic Cross spread is $20!

NEW 9/19: Custom Spell Recipe Services! I will turn a recipe of your choice into a spell for $10, or I'll write you a spell recipe from scratch for $15! Check it out here!

Posting Schedule (UPDATED 11/8/23):

Monday: Grab Bag Day! Whatever I'm currently working on, whatever I'm currently hyperfixated on, witchy prompts, full grimoire pages, hearthcraft, recipes, simple spellwork - it's a surprise!

Tuesday: Divination Day! Supporters get to take a peek into my grimoire's tarot notes and research notes as I develop and learn new divination techniques. This includes my ongoing quest for digital divination theory, divination survey thoughts, analysis, and results, and more.

Wednesday: My midweek day of no posting. This is the day I typically do housework, get outside, and so forth.

Thursday: Spirit Work, Theory, & Philosophy! Join me as I reconnect with my spirit work path, revisit old concepts, take notes on entities I've encountered, honor my ancestors, house, and land spirits, think about magical theory, share personal philosophies and paradigms, and more.

Friday: Free Readings Friday! My ask box will be open for free one-card tarot readings for everyone here on tumblr. (I may turn this day into a livestreaming day at some point if I can get my setup arranged properly!)

Saturday & Sunday: No Ko-Fi posts these days. I'll be online on Saturdays, but Sunday is my official, designated "unplugged" day. If you see me online, yell at me!

Important Note: This doesn't mean I'm going to stop posting spells and recipes to tumblr!! Ko-Fi supporters just get extra, extended, and early access to my work.

Requests, suggestions, and questions are always welcome. If there's something specific you'd like to see (here on the blog or over on Ko-Fi) or a service you'd like me to offer like a particular tarot spread, send me an ask or a message via Ko-Fi!

As always, thank you for reading! - Aese

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april-is · 1 year

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April 27, 2023: from Burial, Ross Gay

Hear the poet read this here.

from Burial Ross Gay

You’re right, you’re right, the fertilizer’s good— it wasn’t a gang of dullards came up with chucking a fish in the planting hole […]—yes, the magic dust our bodies become casts spells on the roots […] which is why a couple springs ago when first putting in my two bare root plum trees out back I took the jar which has become my father’s house, and lonely for him and hoping to coax him back for my mother as much as me, poured some of him in the planting holes and he dove in glad for the robust air, […] and good lord this year he was giddy at the first real fruit set and nestled into the 30 or 40 plums in the two trees, peering out from the sweet meat with his hands pressed against the purple skin like cathedral glass, and imagine his joy as the sun wizarded forth those abundant sugars and I plodded barefoot and prayerful at the first ripe plum’s swell and blush, almost weepy conjuring some surely ponderous verse to convey this bottomless grace, you know, oh father oh father kind of stuff, hundreds of hot air balloons filling the sky in my chest, replacing his intubated body listing like a boat keel side up, replacing the steady stream of water from the one eye which his brother wiped before removing the tube, keeping his hand on the forehead until the last wind in his body wandered off, while my brother wailed like an animal, and my mother said, weeping, it’s ok, it’s ok, you can go honey, at all of which my father guffawed by kicking from the first bite buckets of juice down my chin, staining one of my two button-down shirts, the salmon colored silk one, hollering there’s more of that! almost dancing now in the plum, in the tree, the way he did as a person, bent over and biting his lip and chucking the one hip out then the other with his elbows cocked and fists loosely made and eyes closed and mouth made trumpet when he knew he could make you happy just by being a little silly and sweet.

Read the full poem here.

Today in:

2022: Ode to Tortillas, José Olivarez 2021: Say Thank You Say I’m Sorry, Jericho Brown 2020: The Restoration, Gary Jackson 2019: The Termite, Ogden Nash 2018: Elegy, W.S. Merwin 2017: Young Wife’s Lament, Brigit Pegeen Kelly 2016: For the Confederate Dead, Kevin Young 2015: Awaking in New York, Maya Angelou 2014: when you have forgotten Sunday: the love story, Gwendolyn Brooks 2013: Scrambled Eggs and Whiskey, Hayden Carruth 2012: My Place, Franz Wright 2011: from The Wild Geese, Wendell Berry 2010: Love After Love, Derek Walcott 2009: To This May, W.S. Merwin 2008: Father, Ted Kooser 2007: from Little Sleep’s-Head Sprouting Hair in the Moonlight, Galway Kinnell 2006: Crusoe in England, Elizabeth Bishop 2005: Dream Song 1, John Berryman

#death #fruit #fathers #ross gay #Transubstantiation

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greenpanda-basicfakewitch · 11 months

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Book Of Shadows Index

I see a ton of Witchtoks/people who only give a basic summary of what to research along with a ton of books and I'm more of a bullet point girl. So... Here we go.

A book of shadows was coined by Alaisar Crowley, alongside garnder who was the founder of Wica, then changed to Wicca later on [I will go in depth in history with links/sources and more detail on another post]

So here's the index for a book of shadows, full of all things you the individual want to learn include in your practice and like Pirates of the Caribean, take it more as guidlines and you're free to decide what you like/don't like.

So Include a Book Of shadows Blessing in the begging of your book [or digital document] And a BOS is like a diary, only you can see it or your coven.

____________________________________________________________

Beginner Studies; Introduction to Witchcraft. I.e: What is Paganism, Wicca, Witchcraft? What is the difference? Wicca History: Origins in your country of origin. Salem, etc. Covens and Hierchies and Solitary witches. Basic rundown, you have your first, second, third degree. Like an employee, a suvervisor and a manager. Managers are in charge of their own store, like a third degree can create their own coven.

Lore: Tree of life, Triple goddess, Horned God, Morgan le fey and other mythical lore and research depending on which one your aligned with. Like Norse, Greek, Celtic, Viking, Roman, or any other types. Wiccan Rede, rules of Wicca power of three times three. Etc.

Symbols: Look up certain symbols, or sigils, runes, thats commonly used in Wicca/Paganism or your preffered craft. Cast a circle: Most begin a spell and cast a protection circle before you begin your spell. Pentacle [Star with circle] Pentragram [No circle] *Include the Spirit, fire, earth, water, air. Evil eye. [usually used as protection AGAINST the evil eye]

Witch Tools: Witch tools you use, or place on your altar. Like an Athame, cualdron, wand, etc Tools of Divination: Pendulum, spirit board, tarot, angel cards, scrying mirror, playing cards, etc Additional tools: Candles. Crystals. Elements Herbs Chakras/Meditation Lucid Dreaming Astral projection Milk baths

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Year Calender/Sabbets Month Calender Day Calender: Like Moday is MOON. Sunday is SUN, Saturday is Saturn etc. Deities Celtic/ Roman/Norse Other gods to research. etc Astrology.

Star Sign, Moon sign, Sun Sign, other planetary signs. Planet Retrograde, Mercury retrograde, mars, venus etc Moon Phases. Like hunters moon, pink moon etc.

Animals as omens [Careful with this one, as it links to other occult/cultures/religions and best not to appropriate and lead to indiginous tribes or others. But not all animals as omens is a sign, usually it links to the Fea as animals are fea and fea are animals and other religions like kitsune, tanaki, are shapeshifters or known as spirits in other cultures]

______________________________________________________________

Spells Moon Water Witch bag/bottle Broomsticks Seashell collecting [A practice looked down on now for enviormental effects, but I have bottles/jars of shells I've collected when I was six so I've kept them and included them as I have some] Witch Outfits [this is just my personal interest, it ties in with the history a little] Symbolism of the Hat [Like a Candle] Witch Nudity Haute Couture Bohemian/Grunge goth fashion Media/Pop culture:

Books or movies that have had witch consultants or other ties to witchcraft/wicca etc. Such as practical magic, the Craft and maybe even Neil Gaimans works such as the ocean at the end of the lane. Coraline that had mentions of a dowsing rod, and rock with a hole in the center to find lost things. Music:

Listening to music can also set da mood, so I will compile playlists and songs that made me feel witchy. Anything else to include feel free to ask or reblog :D

*ALSO IMPORTANT! CLOSED/OPEN Practice! Wicca as it is is open, you can buy a wicca book/watch withtok who have you whatever whatever! But a closed practice? Thats a religion or something you CANNOT access too UNLESS you are invited in, or iniated into that group! Indeginous tribes/jewish traditions/hoodoo/voodoo/ etc. A closed practice is a closed door. You cant access that by yourself. Which is why White sage cant be used, theres many alternatives and other incenses/sages to burn. Not the one thats sacred/endangered and used speicifially in indeginous tribes. They've already had enough taken away from them what do witches need white sage for in this current enviromental crisis? so yeah...

Additional last note: I will also include passages alongside the books I have by cunningham and others with the book as well as the passage and page/chapter and try to include web links in any future post I make.

Bear in my mind and I will TRY to be as accurate as I can, but I will make mistakes and end up posting some things thats misinformed even when I post links. But I will try my best to fix any mistakes if I can.

Blessed be.

#Wicca #wicca #pagan #wiccan #Witch #Witchcraft #Witch community #Witchtok #Pagan #Pagan Community #I am aware that Paganism and Wicca is two seperate things or they cross correlate #but sometimes people do lump it all together #BOS #Book of Shadows

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breelandwalker · 1 year

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Pink Moon - April 6 2023

Prepare for the blooming season and make sure you take those allergy meds - it's time for the Pink Moon!

Pink Moon

Named for the appearance of spring flowers, in particular the early springtide ground phlox, the Pink Moon often coincides with the first bloom of the season, with trees and fields in flower and a profusion of color returning to the world after the long bleak greyness of winter. Despite the name, the moon itself does not turn pink to match.

The April full moon is also sometimes known as the Paschal Moon, being the first full moon after the spring equinox. The Christian Easter holiday, which has a floating date, occurs on the first Sunday after the Paschal Moon. Alternate European names for the Pink Moon include Egg Moon and Budding Moon, and some modern pagan traditions call it the Awakening Moon. Indigenous names for this moon include Breaking Ice Moon (Algonquin), Budding Moon of Plants and Shrubs (Tlingit), Moon When The Ducks Come Back (Lakota), Planting Moon (Tunica), and Frog Moon (Cree).

Farmer's Proverb: A full Moon in April brings frost. If the full Moon rises pale, expect rain.

What Does It Mean For Witches?

The Pink Moon is a time for reconnecting with yourself and the world around you. The world is giving a good yawn and stretch after a long winter's sleep and so can we! Get outside if you can and get some fresh air. Explore your area, especially if there's something or someplace new you've been meaning to try. Revisit old haunts and discover what's changed since the last time you were out and about.

Take a moment to assess your current goals and mark your progress. Celebrate your growth and learn from your setbacks. Assess your boundaries as well. Are you making enough time for yourself? Are you letting things or tasks or people intrude where they shouldn't? Is there anywhere that you should be standing firm but aren't? Balance dedication to your work with playtime and relaxation. Remember that you are not required to set yourself on fire to keep others warm. Take time to care for your own needs and address those "I'm Sure It's Nothing" health concerns you've been putting off.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

By the time the Pink Moon comes around, there's either one more cold spell working its' way through or the first true warmth of spring beginning to appear. If the temperatures are rising to sunny pleasantry in your area, it's the perfect time to start planting your garden.

Whether you have a few pots on a patio or a fully-planned plot or just some well-beloved houseplants, get your fingers into the dirt and transfer those seeds and sprouts to a nice fertile home. You can work various kinds of magic as you do, for growth, fertility, prosperity, tenacity, resilience, protection, whatever seems needful. If you grow your own plants for your magical practice, you can also bless them for their intended purposes. If you don't garden (and not all of us do), you can grab your field guide and pruning scissors and go foraging.

For a fun and easy full-moon spell, set out some gallon jugs of potable water to make Pink Moon Water. This will be excellent for watering your garden...and yourself! (Rainwater isn't safe to drink these days, and water collected from wild sources is dicey even if you boil it, but drinking water works just fine.) You can also cast spells for creativity, change, fertility, happiness, adaptability, and growth. Use whatever methods resonate with you and remember that the most important component of any spell is the witch who casts it.

The earth is blooming, so let's bloom with it!

Happy Pink Moon, witches! 🌕🌸