#Voodoo powder

[conjuremanj]

Making Some St Anthony & Gede Haitian Powder For Some Clients.

Today I made a St Anthony powder for a client to be used in their folk magic...👇

In this photo👇 I made a Gede powder for a client.

This is made Haitian Vodou powder made with specific herbs to be used during Fet Gede here in New Orleans.

It Any One Wants Some Hit Me Up...

[thesatanicpeterpan]

Corked Skull Bottle Necklaces

[mistydeyes]

perfumes i think the 141 boys enjoy

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summary: Scent is one of the most powerful senses, so what kind of fragrance do the 141 boys + Alejandro like on their significant other?

pairing: 141 x Reader

warnings: none

a/n - i also work for a perfume company so I've had a couple of ideas about what scents the boys like :)

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price - loves expensive, smokey scents on anyone. imagine the scents of a fresh cigar-that's what price wants in a fragrance. notes like pepper, leather, tobacco, cedar wood, and iris will make him crumble.

masculine

oud wood - tom ford notes: oud wood, sandalwood, chinese pepper

osmanthe kodoshan - maison crivelli notes: leather, tobacco, sichuan pepper, apricot, peach

functional fragrance - the nue co. notes: cardamom, iris, palo santo, cilantro

unisex

hinoki fantôme - boy smells notes: tobacco leaves, oak moss, and smoked leather

jazz club - maison marigela notes: pink pepper, rum, tobacco

lumière d’iris - veronique gabai notes: rose, iris, cedarwood, amber

feminine

baccarat rouge 540 - maison francis kurkdjia notes: jasmine, ambergris, saffron, cedar wood

cuir béluga - guerlain notes: leather, powder, vanilla

platinum 22 - floris london notes: rose, violet leaf, blackcurrant, oat, black tea

soap - woodsy, floral scents are soap's surprising pick. it brings back memories of the scottish countryside, adventuring in the woods and smelling the fresh flowers his mam had. notice notes of herbs (sage, rosemary, mint), lavender, and violet.

masculine

sauvage - dior notes: pepper, amberwood, bergamot, powder

h24 - hermès notes: clary sage, narcissus, rosewood

new york wall street - bond no.9 notes: sea kale, cucumber, lavender, ambergris, vetiver

unisex

voodoo chile - dries van noten notes: rosemary, patchouli, hemp

libre - yves saint laurent notes: lavender, musk

dirty grass - heretic notes: black pepper, lemon, hemp, violet

feminine

melancholy thistle - jo malone london notes: thistle, english ivy, cool wood

portrait of a lady - frédéric malle notes: frankincense, black currant, raspberry, patchouli

la tulipe - byredo notes: tulips, cyclamen, fressia, rhubarb

gaz - FLORAL CITRUS will make this man fall in love with you. it reminds him of a warm summer day sitting in the grass and smelling flowers. look for summery fragrances with notes of citrus, lemon, sage, and fresh herbs.

masculine

bleu de chanel - chanel notes: citrus, labdanum, sandalwood, cedar

polo black - ralph lauren notes: iced mango, lemon, tangerine, sandalwood, sage, patchouli

l'homme - yves saint laurent notes: bergamot, ginger, cedar wood, vetiver

unisex

cactus garden - louis vuitton notes: maté, bergamot, lemongrass

velvet cypress - dolce & gabbana notes: pine, lemon zest, bergamot, clary sage

eau de campagne - sisley notes: grass, citrus, herbs, jasmine, lily of the valley

feminine

brazilian crush cheirosa 62 - sol de janeiro notes: pistachio, almond, sandalwood, heliotrope, jasmine

her blossom - burberry notes: mandarin, plum blossom, sandalwood

flora gorgeous jasmine - gucci notes: mandarin, jasmine, magnolia, sandalwood

ghost - likes a light, musky scent! he loves when a scent adds to a person's natural smell (he hates sugary, gourmand scents). ingredients like musk, ambrox, pepper, sandalwood catch his eye as he pictures fresh sheets and a rainfall in a forest.

masculine

geranium pour monsieur - frédéric malle notes: mint, aniseed, sandalwood, geranium, frankincense

atlantis - blu atlas notes: orris, oak moss, violet, musk, ambrette seed

gentleman - givenchy notes: pear, lavender, patchouli

unisex

glossier you - glossier notes: pink pepper, iris, ambrette seeds, ambrox

not a perfume - juliette has a gun notes: ambergris

santal 33 - le labo notes: violet cardamom, cedar wood, iris, ambrox

feminine

missing person - phlur notes: musk, bergamot, jasmine, neroli, sandalwood

golden nectar - nest notes: florals, orchid, amber, musk

apollonia - xerjoff notes: white floral, orris butter, white musk

extra! alejandro - if ghost likes it simple and light, then alejandro is the exact opposite. he loves when he can smell someone's fragrance across the room. focus on bold fragrances with spicy notes of nutmeg, myrrh, and rum that is mixed with the gourmand of vanilla, almond, and tonka bean.

masculine

the last day of summer - gucci notes: cedarwood, cypress, nutmeg, patchouli, vetiver

bibliothèque - byredo notes: peach, peony, violet, leather, patchouli, vanilla

london myrrh & tonka - jo malone notes: almond, vanilla, myrrh, lavender, honey

unisex

tobacco vanille - tom ford notes: tonka bean, vanilla. cacao

dark rum - malin + goetz notes: anise, plum, leather, rum, patchouli, amber

tao dao - diptyque notes: sandalwood, cedar, cypress, myrte

feminine

lost cherry - tom ford notes: black cherry, tonka bean, almond

brazil aroma - costa notes: white jungle flora, orange oil, pink pepper, bourbon, vetiver, patchouli

babylon - penhaligon's notes: saffron, nutmeg, coriander, cedar wood, vanilla, cypriol

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[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Hii ik saw me many times but i love your blog so much about hobie and Miguel i have questions have any hc hobie being west African hc of that been there since watched movie i cannot get it out

I AM GOING TO SCREAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM AT THIS BECAUSE YES YES I CAN

(also sorry if this is kinda Yoruba centric!! cause that's the area I know the best - for reference I myself am Bajan/Quechua (West Indies - Barbados / Indigenous Peruvian))

West African!Hobie Headcanons:

And because I'll never get a chance to talk about this again I'm gonna start off with the one I love most and the one people know most about (and that is demonized - literally - the most)

Hobie and Vodou (aka VooDoo):

Yeah, I said it. Hobie can work. He got juju. He rootworks. He conjures. Whatever iteration, whatever title - if Hobie followed any religion it would either be Buddhism, which some argue that some sects can double as a moral philosophy,

-If he'd respect any religion. It'd be a Traditional African one and I'm putting money on Vodou.

[And heads up, I am not an initiate of Vodou, but I do actively practice African Traditional Spirituality (HooDoo/Rootworking) and Ancestral Worship. So take from that what you will.]

First of all - how punk would that be??? A West African religion demonized by the western world for centuries from Africa to Haiti to Louisiana - that praised ancestral worship and community first???

YES PLEASE. Some people might not really understand all of this but:

First things first, yes, he speaks Yoruba and if you call it 'Speaking African' he's going to flay you alive.

Like????? Hobie sweet talking in Yoruba??? I'll throw my self on the floor right now!!

Hobie practicing ancestor worship - and thanking all the oppressed people who gave their lives and suffered daily so he can live his life?

He'd have an altar in his house, a small one he keeps out of sight, even to Gwen.

Leaves offerings and bits of his meal on the altar. Cause he was once food insecure, but now that things are a little better, he can do that

Like even if he practiced a form of HooDoo or another sect that derives from Traditional African Spirituality (that doesn't involve initiation)

He'd want to give back to his ancestors, learn how to use natural herbs and work them, learning how to make powders, doing floor washes, sweeping a certain way

And having all of these routines related to his African spirituality that are so subtle but he thinks about always

Prays to his ancestors to give him strength when he's struggling with being Spiderpunk

BUT IMAGINE IF HE WAS INTITATED THO ????

Hobie in all white during ceremony???????

HOBIE BEING A CHILD OF SHANGO??????????

NAH THEY AINT READY FOR IT

But even so -whatever Orisha got that boy head be putting in WORK.

And you know he keeps his beads on forever and always even under the suit!!!!

And the style!!! Hobie AfroPunk?!!!

I don't know if they have this elsewhere, but in NYC there's a music festival called AfroPunk - and it's full of black artists, and black people come out in these amazing outfits - and the goal is to incorporate as much African influence as possible

HOBIE WOULD EAT THIS UP.

The inside of his vest being lined with African textile!!

He takes it off in front of you and you see that little pop of that of classic orange-gold color

You just know he's wit it!!!

And the BEADS

(He should wear beads he's royalty compared to the raggedys at HQ)

[Cough] red and white shango beads [Cough]

Imagine Hobie giving his girlfriend a coral bead bracelet too AWWW

And telling them the significance??!!

He loves a woman in a headwrap. GELE ESPECIALLY but any type

And if you wear waistbeads UMMMMMMMM

As soon as he sees it peeking from under your shirt - IT'S GAME OVER

He's gonna wanna test if they working how they supposed to IF YOU KNOW YOU KNOW.

AND The FOOD!

First of all - Hobie hates that British manners shit.

Was raised eating with his hands and loves it

He hates old white people who wanna stare cause he eats with his hands

He loves goat. Not me projecting he LOVES goat.

He really appreciates rice based dishes because they can fill you up - and you can't just buy them anywhere

Prefers Waakye to Jollof Rice but still loves Jollof

With FUCK UP some Fufu if he can get it

I say he eats standing up so he's just there at his kitchen counter eating Fufu and the most random shit in his fridge???

Like he'll be eating left over KFC with fufu - like what are you doing??? Thats - not a meal bro

He loves Okra (ew nasty ass) and he'll eat it all the time.

Especially fried okra but okra soup is cool too he's fine with that

His fried plantains go INSANE. They go SO HARD. They're to die for

He always picks the sweetest ones and it cooks them till they're all caramelized and shit YUMMMMM

(can you tell I like my plaintains sweet and soft cause I DO)

Extra Headcanons

He was not playing that when Gwen first came over - as soon as she stepped on the houseboat with shoes he was like "Girl-"

The first time Peter B. heard him speaking Yoruba he went "Wow, Hobie, Your Nigerian is great!"

Hobie, who already hates Peter B, looked at him like he was the dumbest mfer on earth like

'Right, and you speak American, right? Fucking bellend. I hate you. 'Nigerian'. It's Yoruba.'

(He's only saying that cause he hates Peter personally and wants him to have a bad day)

Meanwhile Gwen was nice enough to just ask "What language is that?" (The correct way to do it, do not assume language names like Peter)

First time he went over to Peter B.'s place (on Gwen's insistence), Mary-Jane accidentally swept over his feet before setting her purse on the floor

and in the moment he knew he had to leave.

He's a streetkid, but since he's in the neighborhood so much he has like 45 different women he calls auntie - and they make sure he has good food to eat because 'you are so skinny! you need to eat more.'

He does that auntie shit where you're walking with him and you see someone you know and now they're in a long ass conversation

Or when he says 'goodbye' then stands by the door having a conversation and you're standing there in your coat like....'fam are we out or not cause i can sit back down'.

He always goes to meet the elders of whatever house he's in to introduce himself, very respectful of black elders and enjoys helping old the older black folk in his neighborhood.

He enjoys giving them respect and hearing their stories, helping around the house. Plus he gets great food out of it

ANNDD That's all of them I think!! Sorry if any of these were off the mark - a lot of these are from personal things I know about West Africa and things learned through Spirituality. I hope I got everything okay!

Thanks for this by the way I LOVE Hobie and culture you know he'd be SO proud!!

[If you've read this far - maybe take some time out to learn a bit about African religions - they're beautiful practices (open to black people - we're worshipping black ancestors) - but you can still learn about them and understand how modern culture often demonizes these types of religions. If anything, I hope you learned a little from this! Hoodoo, Vodun (VooDoo), and Santeria (Latino witchcraft) are not scary, dark practices!] And because I spoke about spirituality, imma put this here cause DO not be playing yknowwhatimean

🧿

[anxiousgaypanicking]

At Long Last

Dukexiety (Remus x Virgil) Prompt: Hey mate so I'm a sucker for Virgil being rendered helpless and overstimulated so like could I put a request in for Virgil × Remus with Remus finally getting a hold of Virgil's voodoo doll?/Remus finally getting a hold of Virgil's voodoo doll? Warnings: voodoo, sex, felching A request from my Wattpad

"Ooo," Remus sings, as he stops midway through the hallway after spotting a discarded little toy. Very open on the floor was a little, pale doll, with cute, dark purple bangs. Of course Remus recognized the doll; he'd made it!

Back when he made his own little voodoo doll, he eventually got the motivation to make the others. And though this all started with Virgil using his doll, Remus never got the chance to return the favor!

So, he's quick to slip into the room and scoop the doll up, before skipping back out into the walkway. 

He pauses outside of a door, though, before he peeks his head into Virgil's room as he passes it, basically pushing his way in unannounced when he sees Virgil isn't currently preoccupied. Virgil jumps at the rather violent intrusion, as his door swings open and collides with the wall with a bang. 

"Virgil," Remus sings, "you're not busy right now, are you?"

Virgil looks at him curiously. "I might be, depending on what you say next."

Remus pouts at the sarcastic answer, but holds the doll firmly behind his back in order to not reveal why he's asking. He wants it to be an unexpected surprise! "Are you going to be busy later?"

Again, Virgil's eyes narrow as he looks Remus up and down, before eventually sighing and saying "no. I have no plans today. I might nap if my body lets me but honestly, who knows."

At this, Remus grins, and promptly walks out without another word. it's good to know he won't be interrupting anything... even though he probably would have fucked the doll all the same if Virgil told him he was going to be watching a movie or something of the sort. He's not known for his patience, after all, and since discovering the doll a few minutes ago, Remus has been fighting back the urge to just ruin the thing in the middle of the hallway.

He basically sprints to his own room, tossing the doll rather roughly onto his sticky sheets as he quickly shimmies out of his clothes. As he kicks his boxers off, he digs his hand into his drawer, searching desperately until he finally finds a small bag. He gives it a little shake, and is pleased to find it's still semi-full.

It was the "magic" powder that needed to be sprinkled on the doll in order to activate the voodoo aspect.

Remus is quick to open the bag and basically dump its contents onto the doll, delighted as he sees the sand-like substance meld with the doll and sink into its fabric, no doubt seeping into each stitch, and into the thin piece of Virgil's hair woven someplace inside the plush. Remus gives it a few seconds to let it properly soak up the dust, before he's hopping onto his bed, no longer having the patience to hold back to any degree. 

He's quick to peel the clothes off the doll and toss them away. Curiously, he dips his finger into the hole on the underside of the doll, and licks his lips when his fingers sink into a warm, moist area. 

Truthfully, he didn't fully understand how the dolls worked either, but nothing was real, so whatever. 

In his room, however, Virgil is startled as he feels two objects begin to push into him. They don't push very far, nor do they stretch him open wildly. But it's still enough of an intrusion to have him gasping, and his back arching off the bed. 

His face flushes as he wonders what the hell is happening. Of course, he's not an idiot. To some degree, he knows this has something to do with Remus - why would he have come to Virgil's door otherwise - but he can't place what exactly. After all, he only knew that Remus had created a doll of himself, not the other way around. 

Remus has never exactly been known for his patience, and it’s not fingering the doll is going to help Virgil out anyway. That’s the only reason he bothers with prep anyway, so why would he waste his time stretching open an inanimate object?

He pushes his fingers deeper into the doll, delighted at the way just two digits make the doll’s fabric stomach bulge, grinning afterwards at the innocent looking plush held in his hands.

Truly, it was rather admirable; he was very proud of his handiwork.

He then sucks on his fingers after he pulls them out, vividly picturing what Virgil’s reactions must be. He’s half tempted to rise into his room and watch him lose himself on a phantom cock, but decides to deprive himself of the visible, reasoning that he’ll go see Virgil afterwards, and see how exhausted he is.

Remus flips himself to lay on his back, and holds the Virgil doll against his cock, giving himself just a few moments to teasingly rub the toy against his shaft.

“Fuck… if you were really Virgil, you’d be squirming around, and insisting you hate when I tease you,” Remus grunts, as he ruts his cock over the doll’s front. “Unfortunately, you’re just a pocket pussy replica.”

He lifts the doll up, and lines up its hole with the tip of his cock, before pulling it rather swiftly down, groaning to himself at the rather attractive visual of the doll being extra stuffed. He knows from experience that his cock will feel much bigger to Virgil, which it in fact does.

Virgil barely has time to put his phone down between Remus pulling his fingers out and pushing his cock in, but when he feels it he cries out immediately, thighs shaking as his toes curl. His fingers dig into the sheets beneath him, trembling from the intensity of being so suddenly stretched open, with his stomach bulging from this invisible object.

While he still has his brain, and the ability to think, Virgil tries to come up with a reasonable explanation for what he’s feeling. However, he only comes to a conclusion seconds before Remus starts thrusting.

Gasping out “Re- Remus!” he tries to roll off his bed, perhaps thinking he could make it to Remus’s room, but only effectively manages to get onto his stomach before he feels the phantom cock inside of him begin to roughly fuck him hard.

Tears well up in his eyes as he moans loud, voice cracking as he pushes his chest into the bed and his ass up into the air. He holds to his mattress for support, body rocking as he’s quite literally used like a doll. Because Virgil realized that’s what Remus was doing. Using his doll.

The pure oversensitivity sets into his body fast. His face is pushed hard into one of his pillows, sobbing out cries of pleasure as he’s fucked. Remus’s cock feels so overwhelmingly large inside of him, to the point where he can feel his stomach bulging with its girth.

He moans Remus’s name, as if hoping Remus will show up and touch him properly, but muffles himself with his pillow shortly after, drool spilling into the pillowcase.

His arms tremble as he attempts to push himself up, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down to his knees, while his shirt and jacket slide up, exposing his chest. Every time he moves though, he swears Remus’s cock drives deeper inside of him. It’s almost as though Remus is easily able to pick up on Virgil’s desperation, and wants him to be able to barely get himself upright. And it’s working.

As soon as Virgil’s clothes are removed enough, he gives up on getting them off completely, and falls back against the bed with a shuddering moan.

Remus isn’t slow in the slightest, grunting animalistically as he squeezes his hand around the doll, fucking up into it while dragging it down. He’s panting excitedly as he watches the doll repeatedly bulge with the size of his shaft, before he rolls onto his knees in order to thrust into the doll properly. He pictures Virgil beneath him, fucking him doggy style, and humps into the doll with more force.

His cock is enveloped in the fabric’s moist warmth, making Remus’s body feel hot as he pictures just how wrecked Virgil is.

And Virgil is wrecked.

Sweat drips down his face, slicking his bangs to his forehead. A mixture of tears and spit soak into his pillow, and he can feel his cock leaking pre beneath him. His prostate is slammed into almost immediately, causing a loud cry to be pulled from his throat. His eyes squeeze shut, and his knuckles turn white.

His thoroughly overwhelmed by the amount of sensations he’s feeling, loving the intense amount of physical pleasure he’s getting, but feeling as though it’s so fast. It’s too much at once, in the best way.

He should really be concerned that Remus has this much power over him. At any time, any day, no matter the circumstances, Remus could just interrupt Virgil’s routine - regardless of whether or not he’s around the others - and just stuff him full of giant cock. And while this should make him anxious, as soon as he realizes this, he’s fumbling to get his hand around his cock.

The idea is just so fucking hot, but Virgil’s already close. He resists the urge to stroke himself, and instead squeezes his hand around the base of his cock in hopes of prolonging his orgasm at least another minute or two.

A whine spills from his lips. The thought of Remus having full control over him…

He has no idea how close Remus is though, and so he knows that if he doesn’t at least try to last a little longer, he could end up so overstimulated that he’ll be unable to do anything for the rest of the day.

He clenches around nothing, soaking his pillow with fat tears as he cries loudly into his pillowcase. Every breath he takes is a gasp for air before he shakily moans again. His fingers squeeze harder around his cock, before he decides he can’t take it anymore. 

As his prostate is assaulted, Virgil strokes his cock quickly and sloppily, until finally allowing himself to be pushed over the edge, coming over his bedsheets as a mixture of tears and drool falls from his face just as messily. He can barely work his cock through his orgasm before he’s collapsing into his mess, falling on top of his hand and the puddle of come beneath him.

Briefly, he whines, dreading the fact he’ll have to clean it later, but for now he pulls his hand out from under him and twitches helplessly as he’s forced to accept the onslaught of pleasure still being exerted on his body.

He looks pathetic. If anyone were to see him, they’d easily see his hole stretching and clenching around nothing.

Partially, he feels as though he’s going to pass out from his oversensitive state, left with no indication of if or when Remus will be finished with him. He thinks he feels Remus’s thrusts getting less and less refined, but Remus was never one for rhythmic thrusts anyway. He much preferred to just use and abuse to his heart’s content, regardless of how overwhelming that mindset is for Virgil.

Thankfully though, it doesn’t take long for Remus to fully ruin the poor little plush. Pre fills the doll’s warm hole as Remus fucks into it hard and fast.

Repeatedly, his cock slams deep into the toy, Remus grunting and panting wildly as his body is overcome with warmth, sweat rolling down the bony crevices of his body and dripping onto both the doll and the bed. Unlike Virgil, Remus doesn’t try in the slightest to stifle his orgasm, and instead moans out loud and shamelessly as his brings himself to climax, fucking the toy through his orgasm before eventually keeping himself half pressed inside the doll, stroking himself the rest of the way. He grins as he watches the doll’s fabric body bulge with the amount it’s stuffed with. 

He lets his head fall back as he huffs, tongue lolled out of his mouth like a doll as he feels his own semen squeeze out of the doll and spill around his cock, but that cringe-inducing feeling is nothing compared to what Virgil is experiencing, letting out a trembling sob as he feels himself being filled with Remus’s load, his own cock working itself back up both due to being rubbed between Virgil’s body and the sheets, and because Remus thrusts into the doll a few more times after his orgasm is finished.

Ultimately, it leaves Virgil half-hard, but lacking the energy to get himself off again, and so he stays slumped against his mattress, messy with a variety of fluids.

That is, until, his ass is promptly slapped, making him yelp at the stinging sensation as he quickly rolls onto his side in order to look behind him, only to flush when he sees Remus grinning and nude standing at the side of his bed. He’s clutching Virgil’s ruined-looking voodoo doll, still dripping with the very semen Virgil can feel inside of him.

Remus holds the doll sideways, but tilted partially upward, in order to prevent any of his come from leaking out.

Virgil doesn’t have the energy to question why Remus isn’t being a messy little freak for once, too completely and utterly fucked out of his mind to say really anything, and so can only muster up the energy to grumble “a warning would have been nice,” even though he very much enjoyed the lack of such.

Remus doesn’t bother pretending to be sympathetic though, only able to fake a pout for a moment before cackling instead and pushing Virgil onto his back, crawling between his legs as he claims that he didn’t get a warning when Virgil did it to him. And Remus - disgusting as usual - doesn’t waste any time before holding the doll legs-spread above Virgil’s face, tauntingly musing “your little look-alike is all messy,” as a glob of semen falls from the fabric and onto Virgil’s cheek, making Virgil cringe.

Virgil’s face goes red, but he half-heartedly reaches up to push Remus’s wrist away, grumbling “don’t be weird.” But he’s tired and weak, and he can’t do much to stop Remus from making the doll pretend to kiss Virgil’s nose, before having the plush’s face bump against Virgil’s lips instead.

“You know, you should help clean up this mess,” Remus then says, which has Virgil’s eyes snapping towards Remus’s face.

“What?”

Lips stretching into a wide grin, Remus’s eyes gleam with mischievous delight. His free hand slowly rubs over Virgil’s nipple, which causes Virgil to let out a small moan, as he states “it’s your fault the doll got ruined in the first place. You’re irresistible, after all! It only makes sense that this doll of you is irresistible too.”

He runs his finger up Virgil’s chest, before using his pointer and his thumb to force Virgil’s lips apart.

“Now be a good boy, and keep your mouth open, unless you’d rather me make a mess of your face.”

His threat hangs loosely in the air as he lowers the doll to Virgil's mouth, pressing it's backside against him. Immediately, Virgil's tongue is assaulted by the bitter taste, and his ass is assaulted by the phantom feeling of him cleaning himself out. It's weird and hot simultaneously, making him moan against the doll's hole, dragging his tongue deeper into it and sucking the semen out. 

Remus, deciding to be nice, grinds his palm over Virgil's shaft, easily working him back up until he's shivering and leaking, eyes rolling back into his head as he eats himself out. 

Until finally, Remus squeezes the doll's midsection, rubbing his fingers against the wet muscle through the fabric and making Virgil suddenly jolt and cry out in pleasure, before Remus works him to another quick orgasm, making a bigger mess of his chest as Remus pulls the doll away. 

Grinning with satisfaction, Remus throws the doll onto the nearby nightstand, and lays atop Virgil's pudgy stomach, making Virgil groan at the feeling. 

"Feel good?" Remus asks, swiping his thumb along the corner of Virgil's lips in order to scoop up some leftover come, before pushing it into his own mouth. 

Virgil huffs. "I'd feel better if we showered." 

Remus sticks his tongue out, and squeezes his eyes shut, though he makes no move to get up and leave. "Gross. Count me out!" 

Despite this, they stay laying together, Virgil too blissed-out to move, and Remus basking in the mess. And they stay cuddled up like that for as long as possible, just nestled up against each other, sticky semen between them. 

[kemetic-dreams]

Roots under Beale: The Significance of Beale Street to Memphis Hoodoo History

In the late 1800s, Robert Church, the first African-American millionaire in the South took great interest in Beale Street. After purchasing land on Beale, Church built Church Park and Auditorium exclusively for black Memphians. He also created a recreational center and an upscale hotel. Beale Street was very important to African American life in Memphis as Church wanted to create a safe haven for black Memphians where African American food, music and entertainment could be celebrated.

A community of healers, conjurers and rootworkers began to develop on Beale. Memphians knew that you could visit the right store or juke joint and find someone with the ‘gift’ to provide magical and spiritual help. Beale Street musicians like W.C. Handy began to speak of the hoodoo culture through the lyrics of their songs. Blues singer Lillie Mae Glover known as ‘Ma Rainey II’ became popular on Beale Street as not only a performer but also a conjurer. She would perform rituals and various spiritual workings for other performers on Beale, as well as random customers who knew to seek her out. One of her special abilities was the ability to make mojo hands for blues musicians. While many hands were traditionally made using roots, lodestone and a red flannel bag, Lillie Mae made hers using common ingredients like sugar, flour and a heap of coal.

It became evident that hoodoo was being practiced in downtown Memphis much to the dislike of the white community. Hoodoo and any African based religious practices were compared to savage paganism that threatened the wives and children of the white community of Memphis. Local police were put on alert regarding the threat of hoodoo and ‘voodooism’ as it was commonly referred to.

The Memphis Press-Scimitar reported:

‘The Voodoo business still thrives on Beale Street. Police, looking for a witch

doctor yesterday confiscated a half a sack full of “Stay Away Powder,”

“Easy Life Powder” and “Spanish Luck Drops” being sold to negroes at

25 cents a set. The “Stay Away” powder, supposed to jinx a love rival,

proved to be nothing stronger than flour. “Easy Life” powder appeared to

be a fine grade of ground clay. “Spanish Luck Drops” were more potent.

They were a cheap but stout perfume. All in all, police figured the 25-cent

collection cost the producers not more than a couple of cents.’

Raids on rootworkers and conjurers were quite common in the city. There is record of a number of arrests where hoodoo devotees were arrested and artifacts such as mojo bags and amulets were confiscated and in some cases destroyed in the presence of practitioners. Hoodoo was not only feared but represented empowerment for the black community, something that the times simply would not allow.

The development of a hoodoo community on Beale Street gained the notoriety of the title ‘The Black Magic District’ as many Memphians knew that one could obtain a cleansing, a black cat bone or guidance from the ancestors by visiting the right individual on Beale. In the 1940s gold miners would visit Beale Street looking for conjurers to help them spiritually locate treasure along the Mississippi River. The rising number of Memphians using Beale Street’s healers as a form of healthcare caused some Memphis physicians to become critical and voice offense against the community’s rootworkers. However as writer Keith Wailoo in has noted “Those who invoked spirits to relieve one’s rheumatism or to subdue one’s enemies would not be driven easily from the Bluff city.” Hoodoo was here to stay.

In 1876, Jewish immigrant Abraham Schwab opened one of Memphis’s most iconic businesses on Beale Street. A. Schwab began as a dry goods store offering everything from cloth overalls to blues records. Years later the store began to carry a number of hoodoo related curios. In fact at one point the store was literally bringing in shipments of over one hundred and twenty tons of hoodoo related candles. The hoodoo community in Memphis would purchase oils, candles, incense and roots from the oldest store on Beale. One of my earliest exposures to hoodoo curios came when as a child I was taken into Schwab by my parents. I remember the scent of incense and the colorful collection of candles and curios. It was a wonderland to the senses.

During the writing of A Secret History of Memphis Hoodoo: Rootworkers, Conjurers and Spirituals, I was given the opportunity to visit the store’s archives and see some of the remnants of hoodoo curios and artifacts. A number of old curios from Memphis based companies like ‘LaClyde Lucky Products’ and ‘Lucky Heart Cosmetics’ were preserved in pristine condition saved for their historical preservation. Boxes of dried rattlesnake root, John the Conqueror and assorted herbs could still be found. A member of the Schwab family shared stories of hoodoo practitioners throughout the years and the many testimonies and stories of customers from the conjure community.

These are but a few of the numerous stories about rootworkers and conjurers on Beale Street that were instrumental in the history of hoodoo in Memphis. The history of hoodoo in Memphis is a story of cultural survival that needs to be told.

[jessilynallendilla]

Dylan Hollis Baking Quotes Without Context Part 6

“We’re using it in linguini form, which I’ve never seen-eugh" 

“Dates are inevitable” 

“I don’t know where this is going, I don’t think I want to” 

“You mix this up to make it all green and disgusting. Charming” 

“This is just not right” 

“Now we’re going to plate this monstrosity” 

~”Peaches and linguini. Hearts of palm. Dates too~” 

“Now on goes our frozen swamp cream” 

“These are fresh eggs. From the business end of the chicken” 

“Ooh it’s wet!” 

“This is roughly four cups of crumbs and tears from artisan bread makers” 

“Now into a separate bowl goes two chicken eggs. Well, thank heavens you specified, I was at risk of using my locally sourced ostrich eggs” 

“We start with two large packs of lemon Jello because one would be too easy and three’s a felony” 

“Once you get to this color you are severely dehydrated” 

“Lemon lime fever dream” 

“Pour this into something, preferably the garbage” 

“This person has been to a dark place.” “Ugh it lingers.” “Seen bad things.” 

“You hear that, Henry?” tosses skeleton. “Long live Christmas!” 

“Make sure to take off the diapers, not very nutritious.” 

“Optional cup of chocy chips. Optional my ass!” 

“If you leave it in too long you risk pregnancy” 

“I call that a cup. No need to be precise, your in-laws will still find a way to insult you.” 

“We don’t cook with pot hash anymore for the same reasons we don't attempt to cure indigestion with lobotomies” 

Sheri is the popery of liquor. It was once very fashionable back when people bathed once a week and wondered why there were rats in their wigs.” 

“Smells really festive, like Febreze in a crypt” 

“Just a tablespoon of rum.” pours whole bottle, proceeds to drunkenly stumble into oven. 

“This looks like I microwaved a squirrel.” 

“Are you supposed to eat this for Christmas or for punishment?” 

“I’m sure people loved it back then when they ate lead paint and wood chips.” 

“You don’t have to use the whole box, you can beat a few and suck on the rest.” 

“Sorry I’m late I took the wrong exit at Cape Canaveral and ended up getting probed for free.” 

“Oh boy it’s butter on butter, nobody tell Paula Dean, she’ll bust in like the Kool-Aid Man” 

“Apparently these are named after the seed of the Buckeye tree which kills humans and cattle. Ohio you do you.” 

“Oh, the fifties, where when breakfast was a verb, baseball was relevant, and I would have had to have a wife” 

“Pinch of salt-”spills it-”Screams” 

“This looks like 10W40” 

“You can still buy powdered creamer if you like the taste of wood glue” 

“Finally alternate adding the dry and the motor oil” 

“For years I have searched for a gelatin mold that is edible and for years I have done so in vain” 

“C’mon Pepto!” 

“This book contains five secret cornbread recipes believed to be the lost sacred texts of Nebraska. Bake them all, die!” 

“Two boxes of cornbread mix. By the power of the Midwest!” 

“Sprinkle with water to avoid dry spots. What type of Nebraska voodoo is this?” 

“It reeks!” 

Stressed laughter “My house smalls like Hidden Valley.” 

[the-kr8tor]

YESS I LOVED IT TIANA'S MY FAVOURITE DISNEY PRINCESS. Daily Hobie HC! HEAVILY inspired by the female vocals of the song 'Friends on the other side'. Hobie knew he wasn't the only 'Shadow Man'/talker ever since he heard your name fall from someone's lips on the streets. You hadn't heard of him, but he's definitely heard of you more than he's intended to, and Hobie's interest is peaked. He wonders if he could possibly strike up a deal with you, not sure what to entirely expect as he stepped into your shop, admiring the hazy green and purple glow. And there you were, in all your glory, your gaze following a newcomer's body as he stepped through the haze, your dominant hand shuffling cards almost expectantly. Hobie couldn't help but put on a charming smile for you, his lanky fingers tapping against his cane as he addresses you smoothly by name. He felt as if it was a small win as he watched your eyebrow raise, followed by a smirk. Hobie sat himself in the seat across from yours, a clothed table in between the two of you as he introduced himself as the Shadow Man. As he started to slow-talk you, he found his smirk widening as you smoothly cut him off, your velvety voice pointing out how he clearly wasn't here for simple small talk. His eyes glittered in the haze of light, watching your every move like you were watching his. The entire time, you had been absent-mindedly shuffling the cards, which seemed to slow as he proposed a deal between the two of you. You slowly spread out the cards, before scooping them all into a deck situated in the middle of the table. Prompting him to go on, Hobie suggested that you two unite in business to have the most power. Hobie could sense you were interested, but clearly you were smarter than he had initially thought, seeming to be on his level of customer-charm. (The entire conversation went like 'The Other Side' from The Greatest Showman) Eventually, you two settled on an agreement of equal share. For once, this handshake had nothing tied to it. No restricting fumes, no voodoo witchcraft, nothing. Or else the entire store might've erupted in flames due to battling for control over the deal. However, there was one thing that Hobie wanted. Your heart. Whenever the two of you met, which was more often than you both realize, Hobie always made a good impression of himself with a kiss to the back of your hand. He also always left untainted flowers for you, smirking internally when he notices them in a vase settled on a shelf off to the side, seeing how the flowers he gives you still thrive in your touch. One time, while both you and Hobie were enjoying some casual banter with each other, with Hobie managing to nick some beignets for the two of you. Taking a bite, with the powdered sugar sticking to your top lip, Hobie saw his as a perfect opportunity to pounce. He leant over slightly, pecking the powdered sugar off your lips, almost chuckling as he observed you being caught off-guard. Taking another bite of the sweet treat, quickly licking over your lips and trying not to focus on the fact you could faintly taste him on your lips, you joke about the original deal you both made, trying to keep the surprise and small flustered-ness out of your voice. Although you both haven't explicitly stated anything of that sort, it has become obvious that Hobie had managed to make you his, and he, yours. -🐦‍⬛

YAYY!!

Daily Hobie HC!!

Yeesss more dr. Facilier au!!!

Hobie strolling over to R's shop thinking that he can out charm them like the rest and then leaving with the biggest grin possible absolutely smitten beyond repair 🥰

Damnnn R is such a badass!! Didn't even fluster whenever Hobie would flirt back with a bunch of beautiful bouquets (not me tho I'll melt right there and then)

You had me at beignets now i can't stop thinking abt it even though i haven't tried it. Yet!

Using your finger to wipe the powdered sugar? NOPE! A kiss will do!!!! R is so much tougher than I am lmaooo I feel like my heart would stop after that 😂

[ancientcraftnoccultism]

Herb Of The Day

Title: Adder's Tongue

Gender: Feminine

Element: Water

Planet: Moon

History & Folklore

Traditional European folk use of leaves and rhizomes as a poultice for wounds. This remedy was sometimes called the "Green Oil of Charity". A tea made from the leaves was used as a traditional European folk remedy for internal bleeding and vomiting. Traditionally used to stop people from slandering you, including nasty relatives. As for the name, potentially it was inspired the shape if the spore-bearing spike and, for usage, by Psalm 140:5, “They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent; adders’ poison is under their lips.” Voodoo practitioners would keep meddlesome people way with powdered dried beef tongue for use, sometimes in combinations with herbs, in mojo bags or as a sachet powder. Witches (traditional natural religion practitioners) have been known to use the drug for healing, divination, and magical spells involving dreams.

Human DNA contains 23 pairs of chromosomes 46 in total. Adders tongue fern has up to an amazing 1260 chromosomes. This is only possible because it is such a primitive plant. It’s been used for magic since the middle ages but is not very well known by modern witches.  The name Ophioglossum comes from the Greek ophios (serpent), and glossa (tongue). Medieval herbalists called it “a fine cooling herb,” but if anyone picking the hard-to-find herb risked being followed by snakes. In witchcraft, the herb’s use is said to stop slander and gossip. Adder’s-spear ointment was sold by apothecaries from the 18th century. Adder’s tongue was a popular treatment for scrofula, a form of tuberculosis that affects the lymph nodes in the neck, and it is still used by herbalists for skin ailments. The name “Christ’s spear” comes from its appearance, and the fact that Jesus’ side was pierced by a spear. Therefore, according to Paracelsus’s 16th-century Doctrine of Signatures the plant was used to cure wounds. In flower language it is a symbol of jealousy.

Metaphysical Properties

Dry the leaves and grind them into a powder and then sprinkle them around the front door the home of those who are slandering you, or gossiping about you in ways that border on slander. Or, you can combine the leaves with ground-up Slippery Elm bark, brew it, cool it and strain it and then pour it over yourself from your shoulders to your toes. Some suggest reciting the 23rd Psalm while doing this. If the people who have been slandering you are visitors to your house–such as relatives or neighbors–collect this mixture from your bathtub, add one teaspoon of ammonia, and you’ll have a wash you can use for scrubbing our doorstep and front walk. If your entry hall can be cleaned with liquids, use the wash there as well.

The Adder’s Tongue may be used in spells for lust or to combat frigidity. Gathered during waning moon, the bulbs and leaves may be used as a plaster for tumors and boils. Soak it in cold water, wrap it in a cloth, and apply to a wound or bruise until the herb is warm, then bury wet herb in muddy place. It is said that drinking an infusion of this herb will give you the “gift of tongues,” but refer to the medical indications below; you may only want to try this as a mouth rinse.

Culinary & Medicinal Properties

This ancient recipe using adder’s tongue is recommended as an ointment for wounds: “Put two pounds of leaves chopped very fine into a half-pint of oil and one and a half pounds of suet melted together. Boil the whole till the herb is crisp, and then strain off from the leaves.” A witchcraft alternative for treating wounds and bruising is: “Soak some adder’s tongue in cold water, wrap it in a cloth, and apply it to the wound or bruise it until the herb grows warm. Bury the wet herb in a muddy place. The wound will be cured.”

Leaves are used as a vegetable. Young fronds are commonly eaten as a salad or vegetable. Leaves should be blanched only; if boiled too much they turn into slime. Leaves and rhizomes have been used across Europe as a poultice for wounds. Fresh leaves make an effective and comforting poultice for ulcers and tumors. Juice of the leaves, drunk alone, or with distilled water of horsetail, used to be popular for internal wounds and bruises. Distilled water was also considered good for sore eyes. Juice of the leaves drank with distilled water of Horse-tail is good for relieving hiccough, and for vomiting, or bleeding at the mouth or nose.

For ruptures or burst bellies, take as much of the powder of the dried leaves as will lie on a sixpence, or less, according to the age of the patient, in two ounces of horse-tail or oak-bud water, sweetened with syrup of quinces. Root and the leaves are antiseptic, detergent, emetic, haemostatic, styptic and vulnerary. An ointment made from the plant is considered to be a good remedy for wounds and is also used in the treatment of skin ulcers. Expressed juice of the leaves is drunk as a treatment for internal bleeding and bruising. Warm decoction of the rhizome is used topically on boils.

Leaf juice is drunk against spasms of the heart. Leaves, boiled in oil, are applied to wounds. Plant is used as an anti-inflammatory medicine. Tea made from the leaves was used as a traditional European folk remedy for internal bleeding and vomiting.

[conjuremanj]

Cascarilla & Efun In Your Practice + Their Uses

To day in this post I want to speak on spiritual Earth, things that are made from the earth like clay, shell, this form is used different ways. This chalk is an good tool to have in your practice.

It comes from the bark of the Croton elutaria tree that is found in the Caribbean and places like South America. Also is found in traditions of western Africa.

The concept of of this is in all West African diasporic practices including Hoodoo, Vodun/Voodoo, Santeria, Candomblé, Umbanda, Palo, and others. The word 'efun' is Yoruba translates in english meaning ‘chalk.’ In the tradition like Candomblé, efun is a ritual to initiate’s where the head and body is shaved and then decorated with tribal circles or dots (as seen above) useing chalk that was made from white clay, eggshells, or limestone powder. Some practices even use it to make a cross on there arms or on the bottom of their feet before a ritual bath.

Cascarilla & Efun: Sacred White Earth. Over time after useing the bark, other African religions such as Santeria or even in hoodoo and others in the US started using crushed powder egg shells. These were easier to get.

Cascarilla: ☝️Made from white eggshells, particularly from a Black Hen.

Efun: ☝️Efun is a white chalk that is comprised of ground snail shell and white clay.

What's Are They Really Used For. It is used for a offering Butt NOT a food offering, but an offering to deities of White meaning a of high elevated energies. (God) for example. In Africa it would be to Obatala and other high level good energies.

It's used for magical writings, painting the body during rituals, and as a medicine. In the Bantu system you have 'zumbi' other African practices like Vodou uses Zombi. (Snake deity) Or the God in the Heavens and God on earth like Nyambe/Nzambe.

("A little fact the majority of the Bantu people like others in Africa were and still are Muslim and the small percentage Christian")

Cascarilla Powder: The can be sprinkle anywhere to ward off negative energy: your home, altar, bedroom & your body. Add it to your protection powder. It’s also good to used in bath & washes, even in your divinations. I can tell you it has many uses.

Cascarilla Chalk: It can be used to make sacred symbols, magickal sigils, or veve’s and definition. (Sigils used in different Vodun/Voodoo practices). Cascarilla chalk can also be used to mark boundaries for sacred space sites or decorate sacred items.

Modern Witchcraft Uses: the power of eggshell powder has become prominent among other traditions, including Wicca. However, most non-West African diasporic traditions refer to Cascarilla simply as eggshell powder.

For Cleaning: If you want to cleanse yourself, make a mix of Florida Water & Cascarilla for a simple yet effective spiritual bath simple yet effective. (You can also add dry ingredients to it) You can also add it to a premade floor wash like the Chinese wash.

[quinnysnursery]

DONUTS I LOVE DONUTS WHATS YOUR FAVORITE

i LOOOOOVEEEE cake donuts with blueberry!! but i'm also a sucker for strawberry or cherry frosted, and powdered

and glazed donuts

and this one donut from voodoo donuts with oreo on top

i just love all donuts (except jelly filled, bc sensory issues)

[outterridge]

something meaty for the main course;

New Orleans

December 1st

Dona rolled on her back, yawning and stretching out in bed. She winced, immediately gasping for air when the unconscious movement ached her healing muscles. That was all it took, barely louder than a sigh-

“Are you in pain?” She seemed to materialise at the end of her bed, her chocolate gaze immediately sweeping over Dona’s form. Fafane wasn’t part of the London coven, but she was known to be one of the best Healers in New Orleans, so Taitu had called in a favour. 

Dona shook her head, rubbing her eyes. “I just twisted the wrong way,” She said, and tried to hide her wince as she pushed herself up to sit, “I’d love to help today, though. Mambo said when-”

“When you’re at full strength, ti sè, you’ll need all the energy you have for your ascension,” Fafane offered a kind smile when Dona looked disappointed. The voodoo practitioner walked to the side table and twisted her fingers over the pillar candles. They lit immediately, and the scents of sage and lavender immediately wafted through the air. Dona made to protest, having been through at least a few days of this already, but Fafane simply raised a brow, and Dona quietened. “You have use, little sister, but for now, you need to rest.”

The spell that was laid out on the side table had immediate effect: The second Dona’s head laid on the pillow, she fell back asleep.

---

Joulie was sat cross-legged, her elbows on her knees, chin resting in her fists. She sighed heavily, looking across at Boy LII while he slept. Jou pouted, then leaned over to shove his shoulder, “Lee,” She whispered, then shook him again, a little louder: “Lee! C’mon, I wanna get breakfast. Real breakfast, not baked beans. Come on... Powdered sugar... Syrup... Buttery pastry...”

Jou continued rattling off mouthwatering ingredients until Lee turned around to look at her, and her face split into a grin. 

@nola-lee 

[humaforever]

Sounds illegal, I’m in.

(Anyone. Honestly anyone. And I'm sorry for sending so much asks)

Don't apologize, I'm happy to write these prompts.

_________________________________

Freddie strutted up the gang plank onto Harriet's ship. She knew CJ had to be here somewhere...

Ah, there she was

Tangled in one of the ropes connected to the main mast, hanging upside down. It's a good thing she was secured up there, any wrong move and she'd fall right into the shark infested waters.

"CJ!" Freddie called up to her

"Freddie!" CJ said excitedly as she hoisted herself up

"Come down here dollface, I need to ask you a favor" Freddie said

CJ hastily untangled herself and jumped. Oh. Freddie thought she would shimmy down, but no. She jumped. Jesus that was a long jump.

"What's up princess?" CJ questioned

"Don't call me that" Freddie scolded

"Aww but you're my shadow princess." CJ whined with a big grin

"Alright, alright, just keep it down would ya? I've got a top secret mission for you"

"Ohoo" CJ clapped and jumped excitedly

"I need you to steal somethin' for me, you up for it?" Freddie asked

"Sounds illegal. I'm in" CJ said

"Perfect, cause I only trust you for the job sweetcake" Freddie said brushing one of CJ's wildly stray hairs out of her face

CJ gave her a wicked smile but it looked a bit silly with her smeared lipstick

"You've got food in your teeth honey" Freddie told the other girl.

"Oh crap! Can you wipe it off for me?" CJ said opening her mouth wide to give Freddie full access

Freddie gently grabbed CJ's face and promptly wiped away the food in her teeth with her fingernail.

"So what's the big plan voodoo girl?" CJ asked

"Word around the street is that Evil Queen's got a serious stash of black powder, she's using it as makeup. But you know how valuable that stuff is, and I'm in desperate need of it" Freddie said

CJ gasped "I could use that for so many things and she's using it for makeup!?"

"Despicable isn't it?" Freddie shook her head

"It would be so much easier to spread my fires if I had black powder." CJ huffed

"Right." Freddie nodded "You're slick buttercup, I trust that you can steal her big stash for the both of us?"

"Of course this is practically child's play!" CJ scoffed

"I knew I could count on you" Freddie said fondly bopping CJ on the nose with a wink

"But it's gonna have to wait till tonight, cause I'm busy right now." CJ said "wanna help me enchantress?"

Freddie quirked her brow waiting for CJ to continue

"Hattie grounded me so I'm tying all of her stuff to the mast" CJ giggled

Freddie looked up and sure enough there was all of Harriet's things. A couple of weapons, some clothes, a notebook, papers, booze. Freddie hadn't really been paying enough attention before to notice, well no, she noticed she just simply didn't care. It was nothing out of the ordinary for pirates.

"Yeah sure, I'll help you" Freddie told CJ

"Fuck yeah!" CJ said starting to run down to Harriet's cabin to get more of her stuff

"One more thing CJ!" Freddie called after her

CJ stopped in her tracks turning back to Freddie. Though the sun rudely blinded her for a second. she furiously rubbed at her eyes.

Freddie frowned as she caught up to CJ. "You just smeared your eyeliner sweetheart"

"That's okay. What'd you want to ask me?" CJ said lowering her hands which were now covered in black eyeliner

"You said you're grounded, you sure you can do this tonight if you're grounded?" Freddie asked

"Oh yeah! I'm constantly grounded. But I just ignore it." CJ shrugged

Freddie smiled at her beautiful disaster "Okay, whatever you say, dollface. Let's go collect Harriet's stuff."

CJ let out a hard, mischievous, laugh as she led the way.

[kemetic-dreams]

Henry Clay Bruce who was a African abolitionist and writer, recorded his experience of slaves on a plantation in Virginia hired a conjurer to prevent slaveholders from selling them to plantations in the Deep South. Louis Hughes, an enslaved man who lived on plantations in Tennessee and Mississippi, had a mojo bag he carried to prevent slaveholders from whipping him. The mojo bag Hughes carried on him was called a "voodoo bag," by the slaves in the area.

Former slave and abolitionist Henry Bibb wrote in his autobiography Narrative of the Life and Adventures of Henry Bibb, An American Slave, Written by Himself that he sought the help of several conjurers when he was enslaved. Bibb went to the conjurers (Hoodoo doctors) and hoped the charms provided to him from the conjure doctors would prevent slaveholders from whipping and beating him. The conjurers provided Bibb with conjure powders to sprinkle around the bed of the slaveholder, put conjure powders in the slaveholder's shoes, and carry a bitter root and other charms on him for his protection against slaveholders.

[pandorafallz]

Exile AU | Heartbeat of the Clan

tw blood

Norm watched the links and ad the scans run but he could see the vital monitors to see how weak they were. Grace’s connection was weak, and he doubted she was connected or had the mental strength to use her avatar much more than a sit-up and chat. While a glance to Jake’s monitor, while his injury was worse, he had a much better connection with his avatar.

He had his doubts Jake would come here, he hoped for Jake’s survival he’s put doing something for drama on the back burner.

“How are they?” Trudy’s voice was soft, pushing a pack of wet wipes into his hand.

“Weak.” Norm spoke, gladly pulling one out to wipe the red from his hands. God, he hated blood. It was all under his nails still. He hated that. He did wish he had taken a better medical course, but what good was CPR here? He could bandage small cuts, perhaps even a few stitches if it came down to it but this?

This was far beyond him.

He knew bullets did far more damage than it looked to be because of the science behind it; the transfer of kinetic energy would expand the flesh around it into a cavity before the flesh would naturally try to elasticate back. That wasn’t even including the damage to the bone or other body organs that were close by.

The closer it was, the worse it was.

Perhaps the distance between them and the shooter was what stopped both of them from dying so quickly. Jake must have been hit by a bullet that had rebounded off a metal side. The first impact had taken the worse of the energy before his soft squishy body was in its line of trajectory. Something perhaps similar with Grace but she was probably more directly hit.

“Grace’s external bleed is… stopped, good work by the way.” Norm complimented, “But internally, it’s an inside bleeding mess. I think sun-down was wishful thinking.” He tapped along the screen, glad for once the RDA’s paranoid about driver health that the pod contained various body scanners. Enough that he could see the damage to her body and the slowly growing mass of internal bleeding.

Trudy’s hand patted his arm lightly. “Then let’s hope the Na’vi do some magical voodoo…assuming they know their way around a human body.”

“Mo’at does.” Norm was confident that of all people, the Omatikaya Tsahìk would know…but also on the basis, he knew Neytiri was a former student of Grace’s; the human body must have been touched upon at least once.  Mo’at hopefully knew a lot more about gunshot wounds as well given the…unfortunate incidents among the RDA and the Omatikaya before the felling of Hometree.

“Still, you trust her to know how to fix that?” Trudy folded her arms over her chest, eyeing the link signal with discontent. “This was never supposed to happen. Damn, Quaritch.”

“It was Quaritch?”

Trudy nodded. “The Samson has an external camera. I was…reviewing some of the footage when I was checking over the damage to the windows.”

“I…completely forgot about that. Is it okay?” God forbid they'd get stranded here in the middle of the deadliest woods in the universe. So far.

“She’s a tough thing, designed to take a beating. I can patch her up.” Trudy nodded, with some assurance “We’ll need to paint her, so the native don’t try to shoot the out screen…or me for that matter. Do they have a ‘we’re on your side’ colour scheme by any chance?”

Norm shook his head but he liked the idea of that. It’d certainly set their Samson aside. “We could stripe it, white and purple.”

Trudy’s head cocked to the side thoughtfully. “I do like purple.”

Norm smiled. “We have some powder paint to use. Black, white and the primary colours. Mix then just add water then you’re good to go.”

“Sweet.” Trudy didn’t move, though not that he expected her to just move off and start painting at a time like this.

The vitals shifted on Grace’s monitor before he saw the familiar signs of her return. He gently tapped along to turn off the link before Trudy opened up the lid.

Grace looked worse, somehow but her expression was…better than he expected.

“Did everything go well?” Norm asked, “Are they going to help?”

Grace licked her lips tiredly. “We…extended the olive branch.” Her voice was a little raspier now. “I left them coming as a choice but…I think so?”

The answer wasn’t filling Norm was confidence but he reached for the pillows to set under her again. A wince passed her face as he got her comfortable.

“How’s Jake?”

Norm spared a glance over, “He…has a surprisingly stable link. Much stronger as well but… I can’t know where he’s wandered off to. Shame you didn’t tracker his ass the first time he escaped the ambient room. His human body is…another matter. He’s lost a lot of blood and it looks like damage through his kidney and spleen.”

“I thought you could live without your spleen,” Trudy remarked, if quietly.

“Right now, it’s a bag of blood. Never good to lose a bag of blood.” Norm sighed out.

Grace’s lips twitched though her eyes flickered around the room. “Let’s… let’s wait outside.”

Norm looked back at her in surprise. Outside? Where all the danger was. He hoped that wasn’t the blood loss talking; they weren’t equipped with dealing with a wild animal attack if the wrong visitor showed up. “Outside?”

“If…if they come for us, they can’t fit in here. Too big.” Grace licked her lips again, “Trudy, I need  drink. Juice box? Whiskey?”

“I don’t think you should.” Norm interjected, “I’m sorry Grace but… I’m not sure eating or drinking anything should be a good idea when your intestines are a little worse for wear.”

Norm though held her glare but she didn’t argue—thank god because he doubted he could withhold much more. Half-dead, she was still scary when she wanted to be.

“Blood loss can make you thirsty but… let’s get you outside.” Norm looked around, glad to see Jake’s wheelchair was about so he grabbed that up and set beside the link bed. If Grace wanted out… why not let her. Let her feel the Pandoraian air on her skin at the least. It was a beautiful morning.

Carefully, and between them both they lifted Grace into Jake’s wheelchair, pausing for Grace to adjust but it was clear to see she was in much deeper pain now before wheeling her to the airlock. Grace clutched the armrests too tightly, seemingly not noticing as Norm fixed her mask on before they left and the much harder part was the shack emergency steps down—there was no ramp. So it was a colourful affair, to which a hurried grab of Grace’s blanket and soon, Grace was lying on it like it was a picnic blanket on her back.

“Ikran!” Grace called weakly.

Norm flinched as a massive, blue-winged beast suddenly appeared through the treeline, falling back into the foliage and for a second he thought it was going to go for Grace…. But it stopped and the blue person attached to it seemed to look very startled… waved to them then promptly slipped off his saddle, his queue disconnecting in the motion and carried on as gravity intended. The ikran shifted its wing and allowed him to side harmlessly to the wild grassy floor but stood very close which Norm would know would end with his death if he tried to approach. He could feel its eyes but didn’t dare look at it’s face.

Ikrans didn’t like eye contact.

“Wow, that’s one big dinosaur,” Trudy whispered, wide-eyed at being so close that Norm felt puny. He had seen them before but it had been through his avatar. They were big then but now… he was a ready-meal for such a creature.

“Let’s get Jake out.” If he could calm that Ikran the better.

Jake was less lucid though mumbling something about wanting a Toruk as they lifted him from the link bed. Norm felt nausea to see how much red had leaked into the gel bedding; highlighting each and every flaw in its surface or natural diverts and pattern but also, he could feel his hands once again become saturated with the wet red as well which only spread upon the blanket as they set him into his front. The red was more prominent alone his skin and what had soaked into his clothes.

Norm washed his hands as Trudy stayed with them before he hopped into his own, clean link and woke up his avatar, finally giving the body some food—a crappy protein bar but found Trudy sitting on the edge of the blanket watching as two woodsprites seemed to float down. Grace watched it settle on the front of her mask, smiling softly at it as it patted around it’s smooth surface.

 -

 Tsu’tey was not pleased, but he knew the Tsahìk had such a wisdom that carried more weight than just his distaste. Despite her loss, she was willing to save those who had part of the destruction of their home. Death of their people. He respected her and she was more aware than what he lacked.

He should have had more time.

He was not ready for the mantle.

But, for his people he would. He would respect to Tsahìk’s wishes but, he would do no more than what she was asking of him to fulfil that. It was do little to ignore the Tsahìk’s words when the people needed to see his leadership and support with Mo’at. Mo’at’s ream was to the spirits and to interpret Eywa’s will. If Eywa wanted them to live, he couldn’t refuse the Great Mother.

He didn’t have to be happy about it.

That was not what was asked of him and which, he was grateful for Mo’at’s patience.

“Jakesully’s Ikran’s descended, half a mile ahead,” Ka’ani announced.

Tsu’tey nodded tightly, quashing the visible anger on his face and Pa’li moved ahead quickly through the dense forests.

Up ahead, the distinct smell of metal and…fuel was familiar, and the distant quiet of voices. Sky people's voices and the screech of the Ikran, a distant outline showed the metal box, as Graceaugustine had said.

Then a sharp sound of pain was unmistakable.

He clicked his tongue, his hand coming to his bow before they punctured through the last line of trees to see a odd sight of a Dreamwalker, Normspellman who had visited Hometree once, beside an unfamiliar female sky person, a prone form face down on a blanket but the Dreamwalker had a hold of a familiar sky person.

Graceaugustine.

The presence of Atokirina was not unmissed, hovering on the still form of another bloodied sky person, Jake’s human form, but also they floated around Grace as well which he took more notice off

He had been glad to have seen her when she had returned, he couldn’t deny it was unsettling to see her like this. Human. Sky person. He much preferred her Na’vi Dreamwalker. That was familiar.

The Dreamwalker grasped the mask and removed it, all time for Graceaugustine to wrench up into the grass with an echoing cry of pain, but most of what was rejected from her body was red with blood.

“Don’t shoot!” the sky woman called, her hands up but Tsu’tey paid her no heed, if they were to kill them; they could have easily done without them even knowing.

“It’s okay, Trudy. Grace said they might come.” Normspellman said, holding the mask back to Graceaugustine’s face, her breaths fast inside and barely conscious as she lay against his body; so small in comparison.

Tsu’tey slipped off the Pa’li with confidence and wasn’t the only one as his people came to examine the area, two warriors going to check the metal box to see if there was anything of concern about.

“Mo’at allows their care. We will take them to The Tree of Souls to her.” He spoke.

“Oh, okay but you must be gentle. Their bodies are too weak for anything less.”

“Tsu’tey?” the voice was soft through the mask was slipped on properly onto Graceaugustine’s. Blood still upon her lips underneath as her eyes fluttered open. “You came.” Her language switched to Na’vi but to hear her voice in such a tongue brought back the familiarity of lost times. He hated how much he had missed that; when she had been his teacher… how much of a mother she was.

Tsu’tey forced himself closer to the other Dreamwalker, but focused to her mostly.

“It was by Tsahìk’s wishes,” he replied, “You do not have long if your belly fills with blood.” He was no fool of what meaning it portrayed and not to mention, sky people were small and didn’t have as much blood in them. Too late for conventional healing so he trusted Mo’at had a method to salvage Graceaugustine from meeting the Great Mother so soon.

Graceaugustine nodded airily without much thought. Tsu’tey nodded his chin towards the Dreamwalker. “Take that ahead. Ka’ani, you will take the… jakesully.” The name was hard to speak with the weight of the man’s actions upon it. He would rather leave a traitor to die but…the Tsahìk was clear in her interpretation of Eywa. An ever-present reminder for himself he had to keep echoing.

With a nod, the young warrior approached the Ikran first but Tsu’tey made his move, “You will take him.” Nodding to the other limp body. “We will not touch him.”

“Of-of course.” Normspellman hesitated, not sure if to let Graceaugustine go or not but Tsu’tey was not patient for him to decide. Glad to some degree sky people were small, Graceaugustine was easy to pick up like she was simply a child.

The cry from her lips at the movement made him wince but she went limp in his arms. The rise and fall of her chest accompanied by the slight fog against the clear of her mask was the indicator she was alive but Tsy’tey was careful to clamber back onto the Pa’li and lead the way through back.

 -

 Neytiri helped her mother as she stripped Grace’s Dreamwalker of clothes in silence until the empty shell was bare and laid upon the roots, her queue intertwined ready for what her mother planned with Great Mother but she couldn’t help but feel the conflict that rose as she watched Tsu’tey return at the outskirts where the clan was seated ready with some trepidation. Her mother was quick to meet them, directing them off to strip away unnecessary clothes.  

Her eyes followed as Ka’ani came with Jake’s…Dreamwalker and she directed him to set him down. She removed the loincloth and cummerbund from his ribs and finally, his knife holster and set that aside, but she found it hard to look at him without the sense of overwhelming guilt and pain that settled beside each heartbeat.

She loved him and yet… she almost hated the sight of him. He had tricked her, despite her hope that he was not one of the Sky people wanting to hurt them or take from them… and he had wanted to learn and be part of the people. To be with her.

He had lied.

Her people had suffered for it. Many were lost and buried now. Once her sister… now her father. But she was thankful for her mother and that she had lived. She couldn’t take the mantle of Tsahìk so soon.

The guilt of loss, and she had a part to play in the encouragement; to be swept up into his play that she had willingly mated with him. A union approved by Eywa herself. She didn’t doubt the Great Mother’s approval but only her own …but would the Great Mother allow for spiritual separation if she prayed for it? A mate of a traitor was a heavy weight to bear as well but… she would choose her people. Not after what happened. They needed her.  

Her mother returned swiftly.

“Go sit by Grace. She will need your guidance.” Mo’at spoke.

Grateful, Neytiri moved though her eyes followed as Tsu’tey walked with the small, human form of Grace, a sight unfamiliar but she was glad to see he held her with reverence despite her human body.

The other Dreamwalker had returned, this time carrying a different sky form—Jake—but Neytiri couldn’t bring herself to look at him before she helped set Grace down in front of her Dreamwalker and facing inwards towards the three of the great mother.

Grace’s eyes flickered open, hardly focused though she could still see the spark of curiosity that always lay within them.

Her eyes followed her near-bare body, though she could see Grace’s wound was somewhat covered; her mother’s sticky white paste worked wonders to keep such a wound closed but it wasn’t meant for this injury. She recognised the bullet wounds like she had seen through her sister’s body, much like the healed scar along the upper side of Grace’s Dreamwalker’s hip.

There was other bruising now around it but the west in comparison, she could see the pale pink flesh of Jake’s back to see red and purple building covering most of his mid-body, thin legs that looked…odd in comparison to the rest of his body but she turned her eyes away from him to focus her attention back, kneeling beside the form, plants coming to intertwine over all four bodies laid before the Great Mother.

“It’s time,” Mo’at spoke, her eyes following the descent of Atokirina that drifted down, coming to touch upon them.

Neytiri breathed, allowing herself to connect her kuru in to aid in prayer.

 -

 Jake felt like he was out of sync as he laid upon something soft, a low…rhythmic thumping through his mind but he found himself drawn into it like a song of bass. Mo’at’s voice a distance away as well as the voices of the clan but it felt…warm.

Peaceful.

It was almost like a heartbeat. Thumping through his brain, a warm tightness of plants seemed to envelop him like a blanket would on a cold night.

Like he was being lulled to sleep but he knew if he let himself go, he would die. He wasn’t ready for that…

It wasn’t dark, but it felt like he was floating, much like how the dream hunt had started and he found himself sinking back to that experience… feeling like he was flying upon a banshee but his shadow was wrong. No… not wrong. Different. Huge wings that lay upon an ashy wasteland. Orange and black. A Toruk. He could almost feel the air against his winds… but it went beyond that as the memory faded to darkness, the shimmy of light that was all too familiar of the link to waking up that clouded out his senses until he found himself gently moving through the darkness that swiftly followed

The beat thumped soundlessly, through the darkness was a dim light that grew before he found himself standing in Hometree.

Rationally, Jake knew it wasn’t the real thing but he felt the warmth and love for it because…it had become home.

He was not alone, Jake realised as he saw Eytukan standing there by the spiral, Atan and many other fallen Omatikaya too… but he held the Olo'eyktan stare if only for a moment before there was the same glimmer of the Toruk Shadow behind him but Jake couldn’t turn in time, but Eytukan’s eyes widened and flatten back before Jake felt the sense of light change before he was pulled back into the white shimmy of light behind him.

Then darkness.

But the sounds seemed to resonate now, still a beating heart but now, it all sounded different. Louder with each beat.

“Jakesully?”

He felt his ear twitch at the closeness, and a warmth to spread to his shoulder before he realised that he was being touched. His breath came out easy and the pain he had was…gone.

Relief.

Jake found himself taking a few heavy breaths before finding the strength to open his eyes, straight into the concerned eyes of Mo’at. She seemed to relax, as he looked around, his eyes falling upon his…human body but he found himself staring as he realised Grace had not moved; neither human nor avatar.

“Grace?” He croaked, voice still rough from over a day without water. Mo’at and Neytiri also hovered beside her as the Atokirina twirled and danced away like little jellyfish. His heart sank with dread, staring at her avatar intently in some desperate hope that she could pass through.… his heart beat faster until…

Grace’s eyes snapped open.

[rockislandadultreads]

Libby Spotlight: Romance eBook Picks for Hispanic Heritage Month

A Ballad of Love and Glory by Reyna Grande

A forgotten war. An unforgettable romance.

The year is 1846. After the controversial annexation of Texas, the US Army marches south to provoke war with México over the disputed Río Grande boundary.​

Ximena Salomé is a gifted Mexican healer who dreams of building a family with the man she loves on the coveted land she calls home. But when Texas Rangers storm her ranch and shoot her husband dead, her dreams are burned to ashes. Vowing to honor her husband’s memory and defend her country, Ximena uses her healing skills as an army nurse on the frontlines of the ravaging war.

Meanwhile, John Riley, an Irish immigrant in the Yankee army desperate to help his family escape the famine devastating his homeland, is sickened by the unjust war and the unspeakable atrocities against his countrymen by nativist officers. In a bold act of defiance, he swims across the Río Grande and joins the Mexican Army—a desertion punishable by execution. He forms the St. Patrick’s Battalion, a band of Irish soldiers willing to fight to the death for México’s freedom.

When Ximena and John meet, a dangerous attraction blooms between them. As the war intensifies, so does their passion. Swept up by forces with the power to change history, they fight not only for the fate of a nation but for their future together.

History is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera

When Griffin's first love and ex-boyfriend, Theo, dies in a drowning accident, his universe implodes. Even though Theo had moved to California for college and started seeing Jackson, Griffin never doubted Theo would come back to him when the time was right. But now, the future he's been imagining for himself has gone far off course.

To make things worse, the only person who truly understands his heartache is Jackson. But no matter how much they open up to each other, Griffin's downward spiral continues. He's losing himself in his obsessive compulsions and destructive choices, and the secrets he's been keeping are tearing him apart.

If Griffin is ever to rebuild his future, he must first confront his history, every last heartbreaking piece in the puzzle of his life.

Island Affair by Priscilla Oliveras

Sought-after social media influencer Sara Vance, in recovery from an eating disorder, is coming into her own, with a potential career expansion on the horizon. Despite the good news, her successful siblings (and their perfect spouses) have a way of making her feel like the odd one out. So, when her unreliable boyfriend is a no-show for a Florida family vacation, Sara recruits Luis Navarro—a firefighter paramedic and dive captain willing to play the part of her smitten fiancé . . .

Luis’s big Cuban familia has been in Key West for generations, and his quiet strength feeds off the island’s laidback style. Though guarded after a deep betrayal, he’ll always help someone in need—especially a spunky beauty with a surprising knowledge of Spanish curse words. Soon, he and Sara have memorized their “how we met” story and are immersed in family dinners, bike tours, private snorkeling trips . . . sharing secrets, and slow, melting kisses. But when it’s time for Sara to return home, will their fake relationship fade like the stunning sunset . . . or blossom into something beautiful?

This is the first volume of the "Keys to Love" series.

Island Beneath the Sea by Isabel Allende

Born a slave on the island of Saint-Domingue, Zarité - known as Tété - is the daughter of an African mother she never knew and one of the white sailors who brought her into bondage. Though her childhood is one of brutality and fear, Tété finds solace in the traditional rhythms of African drums and in the voodoo loas she discovers through her fellow slaves.

When twenty-year-old Toulouse Valmorain arrives on the island in 1770, it’s with powdered wigs in his baggage and dreams of financial success in his mind. But running his father’s plantation, Saint-Lazare, is neither glamorous nor easy. It will be eight years before he brings home a bride - but marriage, too, proves more difficult than he imagined. And Valmorain remains dependent on the services of his teenaged slave.

Spanning four decades, Island Beneath the Sea is the moving story of the intertwined lives of Tété and Valmorain, and of one woman’s determination to find love amid loss, to offer humanity though her own has been battered, and to forge her own identity in the cruellest of circumstances.