#as was birch and beech's mother

[fallenclan]

chumtail can be real but he's a shallowclan cat now. sorry

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Now that North and South Weekly has reached chapter 10, I think it is time to highlight this interesting contrast:

"When she had left the room, he [Mr. Lennox] began in his scrutinising way to look about him. The little drawing-room was looking its best in the streaming light of the morning sun. The middle window in the bow was opened, and clustering roses and the scarlet honeysuckle came peeping round the corner; the small lawn was gorgeous with verbenas and geraniums of all bright colours. But the very brightness outside made the colours within seem poor and faded. The carpet was far from new; the chintz had been often washed; the whole apartment was smaller and shabbier than he had expected, as back-ground and frame-work for Margaret, herself so queenly. He took up one of the books lying on the table; it was the Paradise of Dante, in the proper old Italian binding of white vellum and gold; by it lay a dictionary, and some words copied out in Margaret’s handwriting. They were a dull list of words, but somehow he liked looking at them. He put them down with a sigh. “The living is evidently as small as she said. It seems strange, for the Beresfords belong to a good family.”

(Chapter III)

"He [Mr. Thornton] was ushered into the little drawing-room, and kindly greeted by Mr. Hale, who led him up to his wife, whose pale face, and shawl-draped figure made a silent excuse for the cold languor of her greeting. Margaret was lighting the lamp when he entered, for the darkness was coming on. The lamp threw a pretty light into the centre of the dusky room, from which, with country habits, they did not exclude the night-skies, and the outer darkness of air. Somehow, that room contrasted itself with the one he had lately left; handsome, ponderous, with no sign of female habitation, except in the one spot where his mother sate, and no convenience for any other employment than eating and drinking. To be sure, it was a dining-room; his mother preferred to sit in it; and her will was a household law. But the drawing-room was not like this. It was twice—twenty times as fine; not one quarter as comfortable. Here were no mirrors, not even a scrap of glass to reflect the light, and answer the same purpose as water in a landscape; no gilding; a warm, sober breadth of colouring, well relieved by the dear old Helstone chintz-curtains and chair covers. An open davenport stood in the window opposite the door; in the other there was a stand, with a tall white china vase, from which drooped wreaths of English ivy, pale green birch, and copper-coloured beech-leaves. Pretty baskets of work stood about in different places: and books, not cared for on account of their binding solely, lay on one table, as if recently put down. Behind the door was another table decked out for tea, with a white table-cloth, on which flourished the cocoa-nut cakes, and a basket piled with oranges and ruddy American apples, heaped on leaves. It appeared to Mr. Thornton that all these graceful cares were habitual to the family; and especially of a piece with Margaret."

(Chapter X)

Something something the "gentleman" looks at a scene of beauty and can only think of money, status, and family connections. The "man in trade" is presented with a humbler version of the same scene, and thinks of warmth, home-likeness, and feminine care something something.

[lailoken]

No too long ago, I was able to visit the small lake town my mother grew up in for the first time. It was a really lovely trip that included a number of particularly special experiences, which included locating the burial plot for the ancestral line I most directly associate with my hereditary magical practices.

Beyond the awe of being with these beloved dead so presently for the first time, I was also really amazed and humbled to see the botanical company they kept. Along with Lily of the Valley growing amidst their graves, the Family Stone was directly beneath a gigantic old Maple Tree with a perfect hollow for leaving offerings.

What's more, however, the grave plot was directly triangulated by three very special trees.

At one "point" of the triangle resides one of the most massive Birch trees I've ever encountered. I genuinely didn't even think they got this big as singular trunks (I've included a picture of my very tall and broad husband standing next to it for reference). Birch is also my mother's Patron Tree, and so it has always had a special place in my heart.

At another "point" of the triangle is an absolutely enormous Copper Beech Tree. If the sheer majesty and beauty of this tree wasn't already enough, there's also the fact that Beech trees have taken up a role of greater importance in my practice, due to syncretic ties I have built with Saint Joan of Arc in my Faerie Physic work over the last year.

At the final "point" of the triangle, I was most blown away to discover a "Flying Rowan" growing from the crevice of an old Maple. In traditional anglo-celtic folklore, a Rowan tree that has managed to take root and grow successfully without actually being in the ground—such as a sapling that grows from the face of a boulder or the nook of an established tree—is often called a Flying Rowan. I learned, growing up, that said Rowan trees are potent sources of magic, as well as marking areas that are sacred to the Fae. As such, finding one so close to my ancestral burial plot felt extremely meaningful and auspicious. I was even lucky enough to find a couple handfuls of fallen berries that I took back home with me.

Being able to visit and propitiate the graves of my progenitors and their loved ones was a deeply sacred act for me, and I feel blessed that I can bear witness to the beauty and peace of their resting place.

[songofthesibyl]

Second Bloom

A Tamlin POV of Lucien’s early days in the Spring Court.

Lucien leaned back, closing his eyes, and breathed in deeply. “Incredible. I’ll never get used to this.”

     “Maybe in a few decades.”

     “Never.” He fell back until he was against the trunk of the crabapple tree, its pink and white blossoms framing his golden-brown skin, red hair, and green-and-yellow jacket. A vision. Tamlin had never seen someone look so at home in the Spring Court. Whatever pain he was in, for the moment his face was awash in tranquility. Not a mask. Tamlin felt he truly did feel at peace, for a moment. And he wanted that for him. It was just strange to see his Court through someone else’s eyes. Every day was a revelation.

     A blossom came loose, and Lucien stuck out his tongue, letting it rest like a snowflake. After a moment, he closed his mouth around it, chewing it. And a memory was unlocked.

     “My…mother. Used to make jam from the blossoms.”

     “Apple dumplings,” Lucien replied. “In blackberry sauce.”

     “Hmm?”

     “My mother. When I was little…”

     A wind picked up, swaying between them. The blossoms would never fall completely. Buds would not turn to ripening apples. Deep crimson, and green, and pink. Falling to the earth with a soft thud.

     “We can get apples.”

     “No.” Lucien launched himself off the tree trunk with his foot. “I’m ready for something different. Continue the tour. I want to see everything.”

     They continued, walking leisurely through bluebell woods, carpets of periwinkle and violet. Oaks embraced by circlets of ivy, hawthorn tress whose scented white blossoms made Lucien scrunch up his nose in disappointment and distaste. Most of the time Tamlin merely pointed things out. He didn’t want to pry, and Lucien seemed content to take it all in. But the loneliness, and the sadness, were there, glimpsed at intervals as clouds passing, a shift in the wind. As the arc of the sun passed overhead, Lucien wiped his brow, and they walked into another wood of oak, birch, and beech, settling in amongst a sea of wild garlic. Lucien took off his coat and laid it on the ground, sitting on it and undoing the top button of his shirt. Tamlin hesitated a moment, seeing the shadow pass again. But the silence remained, and he joined him, sitting nearby and drawing up his knees to his chin, continuing to look at the world through Lucien’s eyes.

     “The weather’s even more capricious than in Autumn,” Lucien said.

     “Yes.” Winds of change, at a moment’s notice. He kept his coat on, shivering.

     Lucien eyed him. “You always wear a bandolier?”

     “I…” He seemed to notice these things. But he was not ready to talk on it yet, either. “Is it strange?”

     Lucien only looked at him, shaking his head, sensing. “I was just curious.” He turned away, leaning forward into the garlic. “Can I?”

     He sat up. “Go ahead. Anyone can forage here.”

     Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Just the garlic?”

     He huffed a laugh. “No. The Court.”

     “That’s different. My father—“ He stopped. “You have a Tithe here, right?” He gripped the stem, pulling it out in one quick motion.

     “Yes,” he sighed. “We do. That doesn’t mean I own every inch of this land. I’m its caretaker, its protector. Its—“

     Lucien took the stem of garlic, chewing on it. “Do you hunt those who can’t pay?”

     “I don’t…” He looked down, idly pulling on the grass. “I don’t hunt people.”

     Lucien looked at him, stopping what he was doing. “I was just joking. I don’t think you actually do.”

     “Before you came here?”

     “There were all sorts of rumors about you.”

     “I’m sure.”

     “But I don’t tend to care what other people think.”

     He wanted to add that perhaps they were right, but thought better of it. The air was sweet, and mild, and after a moment of looking at him, Lucien settled into place, casually chewing on the garlic stem, then lying down on his coat and closing his eyes. Such ease and tranquility he remembered feeling once, in another Court, and there was a pang in his heart. But he could not join him, feeling ill at ease. Remembering what bound him here.

     Instead he continued sitting upright, feeling tense, shivering at the wind whose sudden cold he had still not gotten used to. When the cold never settled in, when the warmth was always behind. When he thought there might be rest, for a moment.

     “Do you ever relax?” Lucien said, his eyes still closed, lying on the ground.

     “I’m High Lord.”

     “That’s not what I asked.”

     “I can’t. I don’t…have time.”

     “You have time now.”

     “Actually, we should probably get going. There has been a problem at the Wall.”

     Lucien sat up. “What problem?”

     “Humans, wanting to get in. Looking for the thin places.”

     Lucien looked down, as if understanding their impulse.

     “They’re not fae. They…it’s not that I mind them. But I…they don’t understand. They see a land of eternal Spring, and…anyway. Winter will be there soon enough. It’s understandable they’d think to come here. I suppose.” He got up. “Mostly children. Who were not alive when humans were enslaved. But who have relatives who remember. Yet they still…”

     “They have difficult lives. And it seems you’ve created a welcoming Court.” He stood up after him.

     “I thought I had done my job scaring people away.” Tamlin looked around at the idyllic landscape. “I’m tied to these lands. That’s what I mean when I say I don’t own them. They are me. But…” The wind picked up again. “If they truly reflected me…it would be winter here too.”

     A silence followed. He looked to Lucien, who was staring at him, wide-eyed. All of a sudden the corners of his mouth started to lift, blooming to a wide smile that quickly ripened to laughter.

     Tamlin looked down, turning red as Lucien’s laughter got louder and louder.

     “It’s,” he stifled a smile, crossing his arms. “It’s not that funny.”

     But Lucien only kept laughing, starting to walk out of the wood. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

     Lucien stopped, wiping his eyes, bending down over a grove of lily-of-the-valley. “Ahhh…” He breathed the scent in deeply. “These only bloom in Spring,” he said, getting up. “Not in winter.”

     Tamlin said nothing.

     “You’re a male of few words,” Lucien went on.

     “Sometimes. Usually because I get the response you just gave me.”

     “Don’t be so ridiculous, and you won’t.”

     Lucien walked on ahead, confident, beginning to know his way around. As if it were truly beginning to feel like home. Tamlin wondered how long it would take for him to change his mind. Like the children who desperately ran to his Court, until they learned the truth.

     As the manor came into view, Lucien diverted from the path, heading into the gardens. He had not spent much time showing them off. He cared for them meticulously—or he tried to—but he never lingered here. But he continued to follow Lucien’s lead, letting him do as he wished.

     “I should probably—“

     “What are these?” Lucien pointed to clusters of white flowers bordering the path to the garden.

     “Sweet alyssum.”

     Lucien bent down once again, smelling them. “Like honey.”

     “Yes. My mother planted everything here.”

     “It’s beautiful.” He began walking through. “And these?”

     “Uh…gillyflower, I think.” Scent like cloves. Lucien moved on. Asking after every flower, spending his time on each one.

     “This?”

     “Lady’s seal.”

     They passed iris and gardenia, daffodil and sweet pea. Lucien stopped again at a shower of wisteria, before moving on to the rose garden.

     “These are nice,” Lucien said. “What kind are these?”

     “Eglantine.”

     “Hmm…” He kept going.

     “I really do have to get back. You’re welcome to stay.”

     Lucien nodded at him idly. “Thank you…for the tour.”

     “It’s my pleasure.”

     “Have you thought of a position for me yet?” He asked, not looking up.

     “It…not yet. Soon. I’ll let you know. In the meantime I’ll familiarize you with more of the Court. We can go to the coast. There’s a pool the locals have taken to calling the Cauldron.”

     “Yes, I’ve heard of that. Selkies live there, don’t they?”

     “Yes. They go between here, and—“ he stopped, unable to say the word.

     “Hybern?”

     “Yes,” he sighed, tensing. “Anyway. Enjoy the gardens.”

     Lucien nodded to him.

     “And…I don’t hunt down the humans. I just want to protect them.”

     “From what?”

     “Me.”

     Lucien looked on him sadly, but Tamlin did not stay to hear anything else. He was already being ridiculous. The more he talked, the more Lucien would be turned off. He had been lured here, like those desperate children, with the promise of relief, and succor, and an end to their problems. But there was no paradise here. No end to suffering. It was merely dressed in sweet scents, and bright colors, luring them like bees or moths, until they realized it was not a bellflower, or honeysuckle, but a nepenthes, trapping them inside, feeding on them. He would learn, as the others had, in time.

     But that laughter. That full-throated, hearty laughter that rang throughout the wood. It wasn’t mean. Not mocking, like he had been used to. He didn’t think Lucien had a cruel bone in his body. He set everyone at ease here. Even himself, for a moment. And he hadn’t felt like that in a very long time.

     That night, the laughter rang in his head like the singing of bluebells. He dreamt of them. Of the laughter. Of hands in the garden. Of his burying them. Of it spreading, from the heart outwards. One by one. The eglantine, the briar. Pink tulips, and gentian. One after the other, wilting and browning and falling to the dirt. His mother’s gardens, and the meadows, and the wood, to the very end, to the coast. A blight spreading through his whole Court. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first. And then faster and faster, cresting like a wave, all the way to Hybern.

     He woke up in a sweat. He felt a moment of panic, trapped, until he realized he had run his claws through another set of sheets. He retracted them, sighing, and threw the sheets off. Every time he had woken up since he had become High Lord, he felt it, momentarily, the panic of where he was. The darkness, and the trapped feeling, needing to get out. And then the pull of the earth, dragging him down. He would struggle against it fruitlessly for a moment, an overturned beetle. And then give in, becoming limp. Letting himself settle against it. The thorns wrapping round, and digging into his flesh, and melding with his bones. Piercing his skin, as claws.

     He wanted Lucien to feel safe here, cared for, while he recovered. Welcomed. But he didn’t want him to feel settled here. To sink in, and be buried alive. Choked in blossoms and scent, while he festered inside. He wanted him to feel free, to do anything. Go anywhere.

           He could tell Lucien noticed his reluctance to name a position for him, in the days that followed. Lucien would ask, casually. And he would say he was thinking about it. And continue to familiarize him with Spring. And Lucien’s wonder, and appreciation for everything that surrounded him did not lessen. No hesitation, or boredom, or annoyance made its way in. But it only made him worry rather than reassure him. It was not good to fit in here.

     Finally, they made their way to the western coast. They walked its beaches, its cliffs, and he showed him the Cauldron, where a pod of selkies rested with their young. He had always felt a sort of kinship with them. Shapeshifters as he was, and usually wary of outsiders. And not liking to be tied down. Lucien hailed them, but they only looked curiously, and headed out to sea. He and Lucien followed after with their eyes as the selkies disappeared from sight, past the horizon to the specter of Hybern.

     “You haven’t shown me the villages here,” Lucien said, after they had stood in silence for a time. 

     His voice took awhile to hit him, mingling as it did with the wind whipping his ears. He loved how it could shut his mind off, covering him in a kind of cocoon.

     “Tamlin?”

     “Hmm? Oh, yes.” He suddenly remembered Lucien’s reputation. “I’m sorry. I’m not that…social.”

     “I’ve gathered.”

     Once Lucien met people, he would be further enmeshed here. But perhaps it was good—he must already be getting bored, and restless. He would not be enough himself. Eventually, Lucien would tire of him, and this place.

     “Tomorrow.”

     “Alright.”

     He thought Lucien would protest more, but he seemed to accept it, perhaps content with his reassurance, and the promise of what was to come.

     He hardly slept that night, tossing and turning. He kept seeing mountains, craggy hills, and forests of juniper and pine. And suspicious, warning looks. The caverns around the Cauldron were filled with bats, who entangled themselves in his hair, and bit at his neck, and drove him over the edge. He floated on the waves, the current dragging him, until he was pulled to the shore, long nails and red hair overhanging like algae. And a voice to his ear telling him he was finally home. And there was a castle, and there were tethers tightening around his wrists, and his neck. He couldn’t breathe, and he pushed against them—

     He woke up. Another torn set of sheets. He threw them off again, and leaned forward, his hair falling in front of him. And his head in his hands.

       “We don’t really have big cities here. I don’t know how interesting it will be,” he said as they set out on horseback the next day.

     Lucien looked at him wryly. “Will you let me decide that?”

     “I—“

     But Lucien had already set off, his hair flying behind him. Tamlin followed after, smiling slightly with the thrill, and the freedom. The breaking up of the earth underneath, and the drive forward.

     Lucien turned to him when he had caught up. “We have villages in the Autumn Court, too. That’s where Jes—“ He stopped, and his horse slowed to a trot, his head hanging slightly.

     It was the first time Lucien had even started to speak of her. It had been weeks.

     “Anyway,” he went on quickly. “I’m sure the villages are lovely here.”

     “They are, but I—“ He stopped.

     Lucien stared at him, waiting.

     “Nothing. Come on.”

     He led the way. The landscape of the Spring Court was largely of farmland—greens and rhubarb, spinach and radish. Berries and apricots. Herbs. Massive flower farms. Many traded with the other seasonal Courts. Even Autumn. Others raised sheep and cattle. And there were rolling hills dotted with idyllic cottages of stone mined from the region; the older houses had taken on a gold patina over time. As with everywhere else, Lucien remarked on the beauty of the area, the golden hue of the cottages reflected in his skin, accentuating his eyes. Tamlin rode through the towns and villages with him, introducing him but hanging back while Lucien spoke to everyone they passed. Asking their names, what they did. Quickly falling into a rapport with them. One after another. His own mare shook her head in impatience, sensing his anxiety and eagerness to flee. He soothed her, forcing himself to relax as well as he watched Lucien—so at ease already. Occasionally Lucien would look back, as if to see if he was alright, and he would give a reassuring smile back. And then Lucien seemed content to talk with the villagers, for hours. When he finally trotted back to him, he was more animated than he’d seen him yet, his eyes sparkling. Tamlin couldn’t help but smile in response, charmed as the villagers had been.

     “At this rate it will take years to get through every village,” he said.

     “Like I said—I’m not going to get bored.”

     “What did you talk about?”

     Lucien grinned, a mischievous look in his eyes, and rode on.

     He felt a wave of discomfort and self-consciousness, looking towards the village for a moment before following on. As if Lucien already knew the Spring Court better than he did.

     It continued like that for days. He continued to stay at a distance, watching Lucien bring life and light to each village as he had to the manor. He wanted to thank him, and remembered that, in the human world, in the solar Courts, Autumn was soon to start. A time celebrated as one of thanks. There were harvest festivals in honor of this all over the Autumn Court, the air rich with spices and the bounty of the land. Different villages would cook their signature dishes. Lucien had yet to mention his home, or his family, since almost speaking the name of his beloved. But Tamlin thought he saw a dimming of the light in him, as if the angle of it had deepened with the sun’s waning, and the shadows lengthening. Every day a little bit darker. He could not judge Lucien’s reluctance—he himself could hardly bear to speak of his mother. But there had been no word from the forest house. And he knew Lucien would be homesick. He had to be. And he thought of the peace of him surrounded by crabapple blossoms, and thought to bring it to him—the gold, and the warmth, and the sun.

     His heart raced the morning of the equinox. Light had been behind his eyes, he had dreamt of the sun. And when he awoke, he was glowing—a rare lapse in the leash he kept around his own power. He shook it off, and dressed, and waited.

     Everyone in the manor was in awe at the display. In every room, throughout the halls, spilling out of doors—anemone and dahlias. Carnations and aster. Mums, coneflowers, and zinnia. Reds and purples and oranges and yellows. He usually wasn’t much for ostentatious display.  But he had felt compelled. He waited anxiously in the dining hall for Lucien to arrive.

     “Lucien!” He said rather loudly, standing up when he finally arrived. Lucien started in response, almost in a daze.

     “What—“

     “Sit, please.” He ordered breakfast to be brought.

     Lucien stared at the bowl before him. “Apple…dumplings.”

     “In blackberry sauce, just like—“

     “Yes.”

     “I know it won’t be as good as what you’re used to, but—“

     “Tamlin…” Lucien looked up from his food at the display of sunflowers in the center of the table, and there was a look of unfathomable sadness on his face.

     “Uh—“ He indicated the serving girl to leave them. She looked at Lucien, then at him, an awkward expression on her face, then left the room, closing the door behind her.

     “Are you alright?” He asked, tentatively.

     A tear slid down Lucien’s cheek. It was the first time Tamlin had seen him cry since he had first arrived. Every other time the shadow had passed, or he had banished it, shaking it off with a laugh, plunging into each new experience. But this was the great equal. Light, and shadow. Soon, the darkness would overwhelm.

     “It’s just—those were Jes’ favorite flowers.”

     “I—“ He slumped in his chair. He was an idiot. “I’m sorry. I’ve upset you.”

     Lucien breathed in deeply. “No, it—“ He laughed, blinking as the tears continued to fall. “This smells good.”

     Tamlin watched him, waiting. Lucien trembled a moment. Then wiped his eyes, and picked up a fork and knife, cutting into the dumplings. “They’re good,” he said.

     “I’m sure they’re not like home,” he said softly.

     “No, try them. I don’t want you to just sit there watching me eat.”

     “I’m sorry.”

     Lucien looked at him until he picked up his fork. It was delicious—he would have to compliment the cook—though his palate was trained for what bloomed in Spring.

     They ate in silence, and though he knew Lucien found it annoying, he could not help but look at him at intervals—over and over—hoping for a different look, for the joy to return to his face. But at least he didn’t vomit, or gag in disgust. He finished everything. Tamlin remembered when he would hardly eat at all. When he couldn’t do anything.

     He looked down at his own plate. He had managed to finish too. He dreaded the conversation they would have now. How thoughtless he had been.

     But Lucien stood up instead. That was right. He would leave now.

     “Tamlin?”

     “Yes?”

     “Walk with me.”

     “Alright.” He sighed, and stood up, his face growing hot as they walked out into the flower-filled halls.

     “It’s beautiful. Really.”

     “You don’t have to say that. I can see it upsets you.”

     “Why did you do this? All of this?”

     “I—I thought you might want a reminder of home, on—“

     “The equinox? Do you celebrate it here?”

     “Nominally. It’s not really…”

     “A Spring Court thing? Yeah.”

     “On the border, mostly—“ He stopped. Another painful reminder. But Lucien didn’t react.

     “You really went all out.”

     “You seem to like flowers.”

     “It’s not—“ He stopped, walking outside to where there were boxes of marigolds, black-eyed susans, and zinnias. He plucked one of the zinnias, attaching it to a buttonhole, and smiled at some potted allium. Then looked at him.

     “They are beautiful, Tam. Really.”

     He smiled.

     “Can I call you Tam?”

     “No one has in quite a while. But yes. You can call me that.”

     “These. All of this.” He gestured around. “It’s beautiful. I do appreciate the gesture. And…I haven’t wanted to face—I’m still not ready.”

     “I know. I’m sorry.”

     “You don’t have to keep—“ He looked again at the purple globes of the allium. “You know these can only be planted in Autumn?”

     “…Yes.”

     “They’re, beautiful, Tam. But they’re not me. I don’t know that they’ve ever been—“ He looked at the sentries nearby, and walked on. Tamlin followed behind, giving him space.

     After a time, walking towards the rolling hills, he went on.

     “I love my home. I miss it. Every day—I don’t miss them.”

     His father and brothers. He nodded in understanding.

     “But it’s not…the land. Not really. I do love to be in nature. I think I feel…most at home in it. But it was the people. The villages, in my—Autumn. It was who I met there. It was the fields of sunflowers towards Summer—but not the flowers—it was seeing them with her. It’s not the flowers of Spring, or their scent. It’s who I’m viewing them with. Who made—makes them grow. Who nurtures, and protects them. Who gets joy from seeing them. You know, I did talk to the villagers about you.”

     “And what did they say?” He tried not to sound too anxious, but he saw Lucien smile slightly in response, sensing it.

     “Well, they said you’re not exactly…” He cleared his throat. “Approachable.”

     Tamlin looked away, crossing his arms.

     “Yes,” Lucien chuckled. “Like that. But…they know you care deeply for them. That you would do anything for them. That you’ve provided for them. Protected them. Despite how you…your early days…you chose them. And they know that. I chose this, Tam. I came here, of my own free will. Like I said before. I could have gone to Winter, or Summer.”

     “Wasn’t this closest?”

     He rolled his eyes. “Come on, you’re missing my point. Whatever people said about you—he’s a beast, he’s a monster. Instinctively, I knew I would be safe here. I still feel that way.”

     “I—I’m glad.”

     “Are you sure? You don’t want me to leave?”

     “No, I—“ He felt a tug on his heart. “Don’t leave. I’m sorry if I haven’t made you feel welcome.”

     “No, you have. But you need to stop apologizing for existing. For this Court. I want to be here.”

     “I’m so—“ He stopped himself.

     Lucien only smiled, and kept walking.

     “Autumn will always be a part of me. My mother…Jes…but I’m here now. However it happened. I have to embrace it, Tam. Everything. I have to. Do you understand?”

     He looked at him. Lucien had let his emotions come to the surface for a moment. A moment of trust, and vulnerability, that he could not betray.

     “Yes.”

     “I get the feeling, you feel like an outsider in your own Court. Like you don’t belong. Is that fair?”

     “Yes.”

     “Then that makes us two exiles in the Spring Court.”

     He bent down to admire a patch of snowdrops. “You are not your father and brothers. I am not mine.”

     Tamlin kneeled down next to him, suddenly feeling the pull of the earth.

     “You have in your Court a flower that blooms in the Spring and Autumn.” Lucien glanced at him. “Roses.”

     “Yes. Among others.”

     “So. Let us decide. To transplant ourselves. Put down roots.” He sat down next to him. “You may not feel like it, but the land is reflective of you. It’s a place I want to put roots down in. We can make this Court into anything we want. You’ve already transformed it from what it was under your father.”

     “I’ve tried. Not enough.”

     “Then let us resolve today to try harder.” He held out his hand. After a moment, Tamlin took it.

     “Good.” They shook, and Lucien released him, settling back on the earth.

     “I’ve…been thinking…” Tamlin breathed in, and out. He had made a deal, after all. “About a position for you.”

     “Court jester?”

     “No,” he laughed. “Though I wouldn’t doubt you’d excel at it.”

     Lucien smiled. “So, what is it, then?”

     “Well…you certainly have a way with words. The way you are with people…me…I sometimes…find it difficult…talking to people.”

     “You don’t say.”

     He rolled his eyes. “Lucien.”

     “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.”

     “And with your reputation…getting along with the other Courts…I thought…would you like to be my emissary—the Spring Court emissary, I mean?”

     “Yes.”

     “…You don’t want to think about it? It would mean…at some point…going to Autumn.”

     “I’m not afraid of them.”

     “Good. Because I can’t think of anyone else I’d like to be the face of the Spring Court. Certainly no one who could make it look as good.”

     Lucien smiled to himself, looking at the ground, then looked up at him. “You’re not always so bad with words.”

     “Once in a great while.”

     They fell into silence again. He looked at the snowdrops, Lucien joining him. A moment’s pause, before the work began. The first flower of Spring, on the first day of Autumn. It fit, somehow. And he felt as if he could—reach down, from the tips of the blossoms, deep into the earth, instead of the pull from below. That he could direct it. Like a gardener, he supposed.

     And not alone.

@tamlinweek 2024 Day Three: Flower Language

[polutrope]

King of beech and oak and elm

From the archive (Feb 2022)

A pair of tawny nightingales flitted between birch trunks hewn from rock, singing one to the other. The globes of fireflies hanging from the likeness of a great oak deepened the shadows in the curves of the relief. Passing his thumb through the chiselled clefts, Elu followed their lines to a white rose. The translucent wings of a butterfly rose from its centre, glowing orange in the warm light of the lanterns.

They lay on a green sward gazing up at the fires of Elbereth. 

“Ada,” Lúthien said, her child’s voice already full of song, “what is that one named?”

“Thorondûn,” Elu replied, tracing the constellation's lines through the air, “the Eagle of the West.”

“Why do the Eagles come from the West?” she asked.

“They are servants of Aran Einior, the Elder King, and they bring tidings to him of what passes in the Hither Lands.” 

“Do you think that he watches us?”

“I am sure that he does,” Elu said, though he could not be sure. 

“And that one?” Lúthien pointed, shuffling closer to rest her little head against his chest.

“That is Gwilwileth, the butterfly, that Elbereth set in the sky to give light to the Edhil at their awakening.”

“And you were born there, Ada?” 

“Yes, my dear, I began there.” He passed his hand over the silk of her hair, dark as the sky above them. Though he knew the power of her mother slept within her even now, he feared for the tiny body nestled between his arm and torso. He drew her closer to him and pressed his lips against her forehead. 

There was no light within the circles of Arda that could compare with her. 

Elu traced the lines of a blossom of niphredil , which had bloomed beneath her feet even before she could walk. Laced with the enchantments of his queen, the pale rock turned a bright white and the flower spread its petals at his touch. 

She whirled through the forest of elms, their trunks tall and straight, trailing a silvery shawl behind her. The cloth was woven with spells of awakening and each tree she passed hastened its growth and put forth new leaves before their eyes. 

The way his minstrel watched her as he played set an unbidden chill on Elu’s heart. There were many who looked at her that way, woman as she now was, and with each worshipful glance in her direction his jealousy grew another thorn. She could not always be his. (No, she had never been his to possess, Melian reminded him, her thought appearing in his mind. But at least she will always be , he replied, and his wife was silent.)

A lean rabbit hid among the ferns, a frightened eye staring out from the wall. Hidden in the branches of an oak, a silver owl watched, wings flexing at the joints, prepared to swoop silently down on its prey. The cycle of life and death, the nutrients of the earth passing from one life to the next–such was the strange fate of Ivann’s creatures.

“You cannot choose her path for her.” Melian rested a gentle hand on his cheek. “Did you not come upon me once, in a wood, and did you not put love before all else?”

“That is not the same!” Elu spun away from her, gripping his temples between finger and thumb. “I forsook all else for a love that would be everlasting, and for a purpose: to bring our child into this world, the most beautiful of any that has ever been or will be. All that I have done has been to ensure her safety and her bliss.”

“Then, my dear, allow her to have that bliss. Allow her to love.” There was a low hum of Music in her voice.

Elu drew in a laboured breath. He had not been able to unsee the image since Daeron brought him word of the intruder: grasping hands at his daughter’s waist, her beauty wrapped in a dark cloud, swelling around her until nothing of her light remained. Nothing of her remained.

He turned to his wife, locking onto the bright points of her eyes. “I will not. Not at such a cost.” (Eru, forgive me.)

Melian’s features hardened and the thin veil of her skin flickered. “Then you bring even greater suffering on us all.”

Crouching to the floor, he ran his fingertips over textured mosses, the stone soft and feathery. The fronds of giant ferns arced over the polished surface of a pond like a canopy; beneath, a pale turtle rested on a rock, his neck outstretched. The crowns of the beeches and branching oaks carved above were reflected in the stony water, obscuring the dark depths beneath. 

"You would confine me!" his daughter cried, her face dimmed by sorrow and twisted in anger. "Adar, please, I am not yours to cage." She knelt before him where he sat, stooped in his chair, guilt rising in his throat, fear coiling around his chest, and took his clasped hands between hers. “If you want me to stay, send riders out to call him back. This is needless,” she pleaded.

“Lúthien…” He opened his hands to hold hers. “You will forget this. You will forget him. This is not–” your fate, he wanted to say, but faltered.

“They will appoint it beautifully for you.” he offered, an empty reassurance. “It is not a cage, my love, it is only for–” your protection, he thought but did not say.

She dropped his hands and stood tall and cold above him. “It is a cage.” She glided silently out of the room. He did not go, and she did not come to him, when she left to ascend the ladder to the crown of Hírilorn.

Rising, Elu brushed his fingers over the pearl-wrought wings of moths and their feathered antennae that searched out the smooth bark of a birch. A shadow cast against the wall seemed to send one into flight, darting towards the lantern and disappearing in its light. 

The forest was so quiet when he awoke that morning. Not a pleasant, peaceful quiet; a deathly quiet, a silence that thickened the air. 

“She is gone,” the guard told him, shame painted in lines down his face. 

He should have rebuked him, as a king would, but said only, “... how?” 

“She wove a spell, she escaped in darkness.” 

Spells inherited not from him, but from her mother; spells woven about his Kingdom, without which there would be no Kingdom; spells that had bound him to Ennor. 

“My King? Shall we go after her?” The guard’s voice rippled over his ears. Was it anger he felt pinching at his lungs, tightening the flesh around his bones? For all that he had given, for his sacrifices, for all his love–

“Yes,” he replied, even as he felt her slipping away.

His hand came upon the soft, speckled belly of a thrush perched in the branches of a leafy hawthorn. Another bird pecked at its clustered berries. Elu imagined he heard–or perhaps he did hear–the chatter and trill of its call. Distant but clear came a song in answer.

They returned as heroes and his heart swelled with pride. 

“Thank you,” Lúthien said, “for your love.”

He did not deserve her thanks. He did not deserve that jewel that burned now in the belly of the wolf. There was no light within the circles of Arda that could compare with her.

Nonetheless he had taken Beren’s promised price, meagre as it was. 

Opals buried seamlessly in the stone, the backs of beetles scurrying across a fallen branch, drew his eyes. He dared not touch them for fear his hands would tarnish their brilliance. 

When she returned from death–no, not death, not yet–she looked as hale and lovely as she had the day she was born. 

“Ada… you have grown old.”

Elu turned to hide his face from her, ashamed of his grief. 

She wrapped her arms about him and the dry frost that numbed his touch was turned to spring's dew upon his cheeks. 

“I have chosen my love,” she said, “for Beren.”

He withdrew to look upon her and his own pale grey eyes, bright with joy, looked back at him. “At what cost?” 

“Not a cost–a gift. To pass beyond the circles of Arda.”

Elu rested his palms against the cold stone and bowed his head. He wept. These great halls, this beauty, his Kingdom–what had it all been for?

Drawing himself away, he failed to note the empty space where his hand had been, where once a thrush had perched. 

[madelinerosales]

Chapter 2 - The Clockmaker's Masterpiece

When Matthew Mirehart grew up, and was no longer the heir to the Mirehart name and fortune, his only dream was to build the most exceptional clock to ever grace the world. 

Immediately upon moving to a town with the mountains, his first act was to purchase a homely woodshop. Within its walls, light was a scarce commodity, causing his eyes to grow sore as he worked later and later into the evening. But Matthew considered his eyesight a reasonable price for the privilege of coaxing splinters into submission and turning lumber into something beyond a tree's midlife crisis. The scent of this tireless work would stretch from corner to corner in smothering effusions, basking the room with a warm, earthy aroma.

The bars on the ceiling window ran both horizontally and vertically, and sometimes Matthew would imagine there a game of checkers whenever he’d require a diversion for his weary mind to engage in between bouts with birch and beech. And through that window, with even the slightest gaze tilted vaguely upwards, one could clearly see the moon and stars overhead.

“The sky is beautiful.” He’d announce to the empty room and wait for no response.

The walls were difficult to understand, but an amusing story that Matthew locked away behind an odd smile. They were, in truth, a rebellion against his parents' manor, where every wall wore the uniform of dull gray— a kind of gray so unassuming that Matthew often wondered if he could possibly vanish into its monotony altogether. Mother and Father Mirehart had chosen a color that no one would be meant to notice. 

Matthew Mirehart decidedly chose to paint the walls of his studio in colors everybody couldn’t help but notice, colors that demanded one’s attention regardless of whether it would be willingly given or forcibly seized. A week into his residency, he armed himself with buckets of blue, red, and green paints, and flung them at the walls with all of the gleeful abandon he had promised to himself upon escaping Mirehart Manor. He repeated this process until not a square inch of the walls were left bare.

For the weeks subsequent to his arrival, Matthew refused to leave his shop until he had completed a satisfying number of clocks. His neighbors had quickly begun to eye his establishment and gossip about the unassuming boy infected the town like weeds.

“I suppose he’s a lunatic.” Became the general consensus.

In the beginning, his clock creations took up a shelf. But as time went by, the shelf grew into a teetering pile, then an imposing wall, and finally a vast, elaborate labyrinth from which he would never want to escape.

And whenever Matthew would be forced to tread past the doorway of his shop, he would always take a moment to admire these clocks. Beyond the realm of clockmaking and wall coloring, Matthew had nothing. He hadn’t a family any longer, he hadn’t a friend to share his drip of miseries nor joys, and love remained a void to rest his weary head upon as evening hours unfolded. Yet, he always had the clocks, and he found contentment in the knowledge that they, in turn, always had him. The clocks, he decided, were miracles that bridged the gap between the hopeless world he was bound to and the world where he truly did have everything.

With his learnt hands, Matthew formed gorgeous worlds of wood and cogs, the details rivaling that of a reality he never found short of idyllic. A reality in which as if the laws of nature were on a perpetual coffee break. A reality in which raindrops could form turreted keeps atop mountaintops draped in groves, all held together by the firm hands of stars.

No one could confirm that Matthew had at any time encountered the structures he would depict in his clocks, but if a customer were to request to be told the story behind a certain clock, Matthew would delightedly spin a yarn. And from his lips would come stories of dragons, princes, thieves, princesses, and elves; all of which, according to Matthew, he had shared a splendid cup of tea with. 

“These stories aren’t real!” The younger listeners would cry.

“Well, of course they’re not real,” Matthew would say, “but that doesn’t mean they’re not true.” It would’ve been impossible to confirm whether or not Matthew had seen a dragon or an elf, but he came from a village beyond the mountains, and everyone acknowledged, whether or not fully believing, that there were beings and adventures of all sorts in the villages beyond the mountains.

[conradmorpho]

did tolkien get inspiration for Two Towers from Talisein's Battle of the Trees?

I was in Caer Nefenhirfn2 When grass and wood went to war. Poets were singing, Soldiers attacking. A new dawn for the Britons Conjured by Gwydion.fn3 He called upon Heaven, On the Christ of all powers, That he might deliver them, 50Their Lord who had made them. And God gave him answer: ‘Through language, skilled man, Make majestic trees seem Like a hundred-strong army, Resisting the vigorous,’ Spendthrift warlord. When the trees were enchanted – So our hopes were raised5 – They mowed soldiers down 60With their mighty boughs. They fell upon armies For thirty days’ battle. A woman lamenting: Mourning is budding. At the head, first mother;6 There was sleepless spoil-hunger. But it caused us no harm – Blood up to our thighs. Worst of three Commotions 70That came on the world – The one that unfolded Because of the Deluge: Then Christ’s crucifixion, Then Judgement to come. First came the Alder,7 Which struck the first blow. Willow and Rowan Came late to the muster. The spiny Blackthorn 80Was hungry for bloodshed. Skillful, the Medlar Made ready for battle. Rosewood advanced On a raging army. The Bramble came forth, Raising no rampart To save his own life. Privet, Honeysuckle, Ivy – despite seeming soft – 90Were fierce in the fight. The Cherry was wary. Birch, although noble, Was slow to get dressed, Not from being spineless But due to its greatness. Golden Rod was resolved – Foreigners by sea.8 The Pine was the best, Won the chair9 in the contest. 100Ash wrought great deeds In the presence of princes. Despite its great wealth Elm budged not an inch – Raining down blows On centre, flank, rear. Hazel gauged weapons For the tumult of war. Dogwood, be blessed, Battle’s bull, lord of all. 110Morawc and Morytfn4 10 […] Beech grew prolific; Though Holly turned pale It was brave in battle. Infamous Hawthorn Gave festering wounds. Though slashed at, the Vine Was cut down in the fray. Bracken grew rampant;

But broom, at the head, 120Was trampled in mud. Though unlucky, Gorse Still joined in the force. A spell brought Heather To join, famous fighter. […] in pursuit. Oak’s passionate shout Made earth and sky shake. Brave pillager, Woad, Was named in the record. 130Even the splintered tree11 Created panic. Repulsing, it repelled, And stabbed others. At force Pear excelled On the battlefield – A terrifying wave Of sweet-scented Clover.12 Though shy, the Chestnut13 Fought alongside bold trees.

[pxison]

𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄  𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

fuck it we ball doing each sib on one post

Reiju

spice : cayenne

weather event/natural disaster : limnic eruption

color : light pinks

magical power : toxin absorption

shoe : heels

plant : belladonna

animal : stonefish

weapon : needles/martial arts

subject/major : homeschool

gemstone/mineral : tourmaline

makeup product : blushes, liners etc.

candy : starburst

fear : not living up to her mother's hope

sport (traditional or extreme) : volleyball

method of long–distance travel : flight

hour : morning

wood : birch

mythological creature : faerie

three emojis : 🦋💋😘

moon phase : waning crescent

Ichiji

spice : peppers

weather event/natural disaster : drought

color : crimson

magical power : energy production (as beams)

shoe : oxfords

plant : venus flytrap

animal : lion (anything 'proud')

weapon : martial arts/long range blasting

subject/major : homeschool

gemstone/mineral : ruby

makeup product : hair curlers and skin creams

candy : cinnamon candies

fear : has none

sport (traditional or extreme) : hunting but @ people

method of long–distance travel : flight

hour : morning

wood : oak

mythological creature : vampire

three emojis : 👑👁️🌋

moon phase : full moon

Niji

spice : salt

weather event/natural disaster : lightning storm

color : deep blues

magical power : electrical conductivity

shoe : oxfords

plant : poppy

animal : electric eel

weapon : martial arts/sword fighting

subject/major : homeschool

gemstone/mineral : sapphire

makeup product : none

candy : chocolates

fear : has none

sport (traditional or extreme) : hunting but @ people

method of long–distance travel : flight

hour : night

wood : beech

mythological creature : ghoul

three emojis : ⚡😈🦵

moon phase : new moon

Yonji

spice : paprika

weather event/natural disaster : earthquake

color : darker greens

magical power : detachable limbs

shoe : oxfords

plant : forget me nots

animal : musk ox

weapon : martial arts

subject/major : homeschool

gemstone/mineral : emerald

makeup product : post-mission mess

candy : anything classified as

fear : has none

sport (traditional or extreme) : hunting but @ people

method of long–distance travel : flight

hour : morning to noon transition

wood : redwood

mythological creature : minotaur

three emojis : 💪🫛😋

moon phase : waning gibbous

tagging: (:

[trivia-witch]

🗝 Hekate’s Garden and Plant Spirit Witchcraft 🗡

BY CYNDI BRANNEN

Hekate’s Garden is the mystical location that can be journeyed to in trance or dreams. Therein reside the Pharmakoi Kyrios, the Master Plant Spirits, of each botanical. We can connect to these spirits through using materia medica or purely energetically, using symbols of them. Plant spirit oracle cards are one example. Intuiting, channeling or divining botanical spirits is one of my central practices. Letting the spirits present themselves without knowing the standard properties is an amazing way to practice pharmakeia.

Botanicals are such a central part of my life that they are as important to me as air. They are food, they built my home and surround it, and they are how I enter the world of spirits.

Simple Ways To Practice Pharmakeia

If you are completely new to experiencing the mysteries of botanicals and the power of Hekate’s Garden, I recommend going slowly. Avoid pithy internet advice. Use a mixed-methods approach: follow your intuition and divination and then map it onto standard properties and applications. Experiment, experiment, experiment. Pharmakeia is as much science as it is magic. What works in general may not work specifically for you. Mugwort, to me, is mother’s milk. For others, it can trigger an allergic reaction. I consume all manner of botanicals each and every day, but I have an empirical approach to my ongoing practice. In our home, allopathic medicine is the absolute last resort unless it is clearly indicated. Pharmakeia, as it was originally practiced, is the spirit in which I work with botanicals. Entheogens, psychedelics and their kin are very alluring, but come with real risks. 

Set up a journal and/or spreadsheet to record your practice of pharmakeia. Create monographs of the botanicals you work with, recording your personal experiences and intuitive correspondences and characteristics in addition to the standard ones.

Becoming aware of our reliance on the green world in materialistic ways can create a path leading to their deeper aspects. Go on a quest, opening yourself up to accepting the call of one local botanical. Birch, maple, pine, oak, ash, poplar, beech and other tree spirits are present even in the most urban spaces. Using bits of these botanicals in our witchery is enhanced when we practice Vox Botanica, singing or speaking to summon out their qualities and personality.

An inventory of the botanicals already in our homes is an excellent undertaking to demonstrate the plant spirits already among us. Of course, those spirits can become quite dormant, so studying their spiritual properties and characteristics is a fantastic way to learn how to approach them.

Look in the kitchen and elsewhere for evidence of Hekate’s Garden. The herbs and spices you favor, along with the scents you prefer, probably indicate the botanicals with which you have a natural affinity. Choose one to develop a deeper connection with.

Research the botanicals associated with your astrological considerations and birth month for a potential Pharmaka Kyrios – your personal Master Plant Spirit – if you don’t feel called to/by any one plant.

ABOUT CYNDI BRANNEN

Cyndi Brannen, PhD, is a teacher and writer focusing on personal development, spirituality and true magic. She is an energetic healer, psychic, herbalist, spiritual coach and mentor. Founder of the Keeping Her Keys Mystery School, she teaches and writes about the true magic of healing and personal power. The bestselling Keeping Her Keys: An Introduction to Hekate’s Modern Witchcraft explores Hekate from her ancient origins to our modern understanding through magic and personal development. True Magic: Unleashing Your Inner Witch, based on the sacred seven principles, will be available this October.

[practice-is-praxis]

Planetary Days

These are some of the meanings, correspondences, deities, etc. associated with each day of the week. These can also be used for planetary hours. For example, if performing a working during the planetary hour for Jupiter, one could use the information listed under Thursday, the day that corresponds to Jupiter.  This is not a complete list. Consider this as a list of possibilities to add more layers, structure, effectiveness, and symbolism to your rituals, and magick. Not as necessities, or anything like that. Enjoy. 🖖  SUNDAY Works of: Wealth. Planet: Sun. Numbers: 6, 66, 666. Color: Gold, Yellow, Orange. Rules: Leo. Metals: Gold, All Yellow and Lustrous Alloys. Stones/Minerals: Tiger’s Eye, Topaz, Goldstone, Zircon, Citrine, Chrysoberyl. Trees: Pine, Walnut, Date, Oak, Witch Hazel, Mimosa, Acacia. Herbs: Sunflower, Chamomile, Yellow Rose, Chrysanthemum, Marigold, Eyebright, Pineapple, Mistletoe, St. John’s Wort, Laurel. Incenses/Oils: Cinnamon, Frankincense, Saffron, Vanilla, Heliotropin, Cashew, Copal. Element: Fire. Direction: South. Tools: Symbols, Lamen, Lance, Sword. Deities: Apollo, Baal, Belenus, Grainne, Helios, Lugh, Mithras, Horus, Osiris, Ra, Sol, Shamash, Vishnu. Angels: Michael, Raphael. Shape: Hexagon, Hexagram. Design: Radial Forms, Swirling Spirals. Concepts: Advancement, Dominance, Healing, Egotism, Friendship, Prosperity, Abundance, Illumination, The Self, Joy, Leadership, Power, Wealth, Success, Will. Intentions: Developing Harmony, Giving/Receiving Healing, Acquiring Money, Obtaining Patronage, Gaining Promotion, Establishing Peace, Increasing Wealth, Improving Willpower. MONDAY Works of: Mystery. Planet: The Moon. Numbers: 9, 99, 999. Color: Silver, White, Gray, Lavender, Purple. Rules: Cancer. Metals: Silver, Platinum, Yttrium. Stones/Minerals: Beryl, Moonstone, Alexandrite, Rock Crystal, Alabaster, Fluorspar, Mirror Glass. Trees: Willow, Coconut, Bay, Hazel, Papaya, Carob, Laburnum. Herbs: White and Purple Lilies, Hyacinth, Iris, Narcissus, Gourds, Peas, Beans, Turnip, Yam. Incenses/Oils: Camphor, Orris Root, Galbanum, Artemisia, Wintergreen, Eucalyptus Oil, Jasmine Oil, Aromatic Seeds, Ylang-ylang. Element: Water. Direction: North-West. Tools: Bow and Arrow, Magick Mirror. Deities: Artemis, Bendis, Diana, Hecate, Isis, Khonsu, Luna, Selene, Shiva, Sin, Ta-Urt, Thoth, Tivs, Varuna. Angels: Gabriel. Shape: Nonagon, Enneagram. Design: Circular, Crescent, Elliptical, and Maze-like. Concepts: Astral Work, Birth, Psychic Ability, Cycles, Divination, Dreams, Glamor, Illusions, Balance, Shapeshifting, Subconscious and Unconscious, Spirituality, Tides, Transformation, Transmutation. Intentions: Astral Travel, Safety for Birth and Children, Developing Psychic Senses, Increasing Intuition, Increasing and Remembering Dreams, Developing Glamor(s), Accessing the Subconscious and Unconscious Minds, Creating/Dispelling Illusions. TUESDAY Works of: Power. Planet: Mars. Numbers: 5, 55, 555. Color: Red, Amber, Pale Yellow. Rules: Aries, Co-rules Scorpio. Metals: Iron, Brass, Rust, Steel, Nickel, Strontium, Magnetized Iron Fillings. Stones/Minerals: Ruby, Garnet, Red Agnate, Bloodstone, Amber, Rhodochrosite, Red Jasper, Lodestone, Flint (worked flint particularly). Trees: Ash, Mountain Ash, Holly, Pepper Tree, White Fig, Mountain Mahogany, Arbutus. Herbs: Thistles, Cacti, Dandelion, Snapdragon, Stinging Nettle, Arrowroot, High John Conqueror, Bloodroot, Wild Ginger, Bamboo. Incenses/Oils: Opoponax, Dragonsblood, Nicotiana, Peppermint, Mustard, Cumin, Asafoetida, Turmeric, Sweet Woodruff, Galangal. Element: Fire. Direction: South-West, North-East. Tools: Anvil, Burin, Hammer, Scourge, Spear, Whip, Magic Sword. Deities: Aries, Bellona, Horus, Mars, Nergal. Angels: Khamael, Zhamael. Shape: Pentagon, Pentagram. Design: Zig-zag, Pointed Forms. Concepts: Anger, Atavism, Conflict, Courage, Ego, Energy, Passion, Sex, Strength, Vengeance, Vigor. Intentions: Controlling Anger, Enhancing Courage, Causing Discord, Increasing Energy, Dispelling Fear, Increasing Sex-Drive, Increasing Strength, Increasing Vigor. WEDNESDAY Works of: Mind. Planet: Mercury. Numbers: 8, 88, 888. Colors: Orange, Light Blue, Violet, Light Yellow, Mother of Pearl. Rules: Gemini, Virgo. Metals: Mercury, Aluminum, Aircraft Composites, Quicksilver, Lanthanum. Stones/Minerals: Fire Opal, Carnelian, Cairngorm, Sard, Banded Agate, Coins, Small pebbles, Skipping Stones. Trees: Birch, Aspen, Almond, Mulberry, Lombardy Poplar, Magnolia, Pistachio. Herbs: Marjoram, Lavender, Ferns, Medicinal, Castor Palm, Mandrake, Stillengia, Parsley. Incenses/Oils: Mace, Star Anise, Mastic, Sandalwood, Orange, Lemongrass, Lavender Oil, Fennel Oil, Walnut. Element: Air. Direction: East. Deities: Hermes, Mercury, Thoth, Ganesha, Nebu, Woden. Angels: Mikael, Raphael. Shape: Octagon, Octagram. Design: Segmented Shapes, Mirror Images, Countercharged Patterns. Concepts: Business, Communication, Deception, Flexibility, Healing, Hyperactivity, Magick, Memory, Music, Poetry, Protection, Psychopomp, Science, Speed, Theft, Travel, Trickery, Divination, Education, Mystical Knowledge and Insight, Predictions, Resourcefulness, Self-Improvement. Intentions: Business Success, Improving Communication, Preventing Discord, Exam Success, Developing Flexibility, Divination, Developing Influence, Increasing Knowledge, Improving Memory, Improving or Learning Music, Establishing Peace, Recovering Property, Public Speaking, Improving Mentality, Mental over Emotional, Writing. THURSDAY Works of: Expansion. Planet: Jupiter. Numbers: 4, 44, 444. Colors: Blue, White, Lilac, Shell-Pink. Rules: Sagittarius, Co-rules Pisces. Metals: Tin, Zinc, Antimony. Stones/Minerals: Sapphire, Lapis Lazuli, Amethyst, Labradorite, Turquoise, Aquamarine.  Trees: Oak, Cedar, Pine, Olive, Juniper, Hickory, Sassafras, Maple, Chestnut, Horse Chestnut, Lime, Sycamore. Herbs: Flax, Borage, Brook Lime, Liverwort, Green Ti Plant, Agrimony, Purple Betany, Sage. Incenses/Oils: Nutmeg, Clove, Pine Gum, Sarsaparilla, Hyssop. Element: Air/Water. Direction: South-East. Deities: Zeus, Athena, Poseidon, Jupiter, Minerva, Marduk, Indra, Amun-Ra, Thor. Angels: Tzadkiel, Sachiel. Shape: Square, Four-Pointed Star. Design: Regular Rhombic and Rectangular Forms, Parallelograms, Squares, Intersecting lines. Concepts: Ascendancy, Devotion, Enthusiasm, Ethics, Expansion, Honor, Fortune, Humor, Law, Politics, Expansion, Health, Growth, Increase, Healing, Spirituality, Fortune, Luck, Philosophy, Optimism, Opportunity, Generosity, Justice. Intentions: Developing Ambition, Career Success, Increasing Enthusiasm, Increasing Health, Improving Fortune, Improving Health, Improving Luck, Developing Ethics, Dealing with Law, Increasing Wealth, Gaining Promotion, Seeking or Promoting Truth, Spiritual Contact, Taking Responsibility. FRIDAY Works of: Beauty. Planet: Venus. Numbers: 7, 77, 777. Color: Green, Turquoise, Pink. Rules: Libra, Taurus. Metals: Copper, Bronze. Stones/Minerals: Emerald, Malachite, Peridot, Jade, Rose Quartz, Amazonite. Trees: Apple, Pear, Lemon, Lime, Orange, Cherry, Cinchona, Beech, Elder, Fig. Herbs: Rose, Hawthorn, Vervain, Myrtle, Columbine, Anemone, Strawberry, Periwinkle, Cyclamen, Foxglove, Tulip, Hibiscus. Incenses/Oils: Storax, Sandalwood, Vetiver, Valerian, Geranium, Licorice, Tonka Bean, Cardamom, Spearmint, Lemon. Element: Earth. Direction: Center. Tools: Belt, Girdle, Harp, Necklace. Deities: Aphrodite, Venus, Freya, Turan, Ishtar, Ushan, Lakshmi, Hathor, Bast. Angels: Haniel, Anael. Shape: Heptagon, Heptagram. Design: Branching Forms, Flowing and Harmonious Lines, Arabesque. Concepts: Attraction, Art, Beauty, Creativity, Culture, Emotions, Fertility, Grace, Inspiration, Love, Passion, Pleasure, Self-Confidence, Sensuality, Sexuality, Sociability. Intentions: Increasing Attraction, Developing Beauty, Increasing Creativity, Increasing Fertility, Developing Friendship, Obtaining or Promoting Love, Satisfying Lust, Increasing Passion, Pleasure, Self-Confidence, Improving Social-Skills. SATURDAY Works of: Form. Planet: Saturn. Numbers: 3, 33, 333. Color: Black, Brown, Rules: Capricorn, Co-rules Aquarius. Metals: Lead, Antimony, Tungsten, Zirconium, Cobalt, Titanium. Stones/Minerals: Diamond, Jet, Onyx, Basalt, Slate, Black Salt, Anthracite, Geodes, Obsidian, Pumice, Smoked Glass. Trees: Yew, Elm, Cypress, Pine, Ebony, Acacia, Pomegranate. Herbs: Violet, Trillium, Poppy, Nightshade, Horsetail, Amaranth, Mullein. Incenses/Oils: Myrrh, Spikenard, Guaiac Wood, Tamarind, Cassia, Patchouli. Element: Earth. Direction: North. Tools: Hourglass, Scythe, Scales, Sickle, Veil. Deities: Kronos, Saturn, Hera, Juno, Kali, Brahma, Ea, Uni. Angels: Tzaphkiel, Cassiel. Shape: Triangle, Three-Pointed Star. Design: Abstract based on Natural, Concentric Circles, Geometry suggesting Spatial Perspective. Concepts: Agriculture, Austerity, Binding, Conservation, Duty, Equilibrium, Formation, History, Legal Matters, Limitation, Patience, Practicality, Preservation, Prudence, Reservation, Restriction, Self-Discipline, Teaching, Time, Wisdom. Intentions: Banishing, Binding, Dispelling, Establishing Equilibrium, Performing Duty, Studying, Self-Discipline, Protecting Home, Developing Patience, Developing Practicality, Decrease, Teaching. Sources:  “Planetary Magick: The Heart of Western Magick” by Melita Denning, Osbourne Phillips. “Practical Planetary Magick” by David Rankine, Sorita d’Este.

[mhysa-leesi]

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴇᴘʜᴏɴᴇ

Pairing: Dark Hades!Loki 𝒳 (femme) Persephone!Reader 🍷. 

Summary: “A dark retelling of the Greek myth “The Abduction of Persephone”.” 

Word Count: 2,712

TW: Allusion to Non-Con, Kidnapping, Smut, Fingering, Minor BDSM Themes, Stalking, Physical Violence, and Strong Language. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼

AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 

AN Cont.:  If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence or physical abuse, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.

The sky was a clear and brilliant blue, with white clouds scudding across like ships full sail. The wind took hold of you, like a breezy hand on your back as it guided you through the mead. The springtime blossoms were lovely this year. Vibrant orange butterfly weed, blue cornflowers, yellow marigolds, and purple aster were sprinkled over the stretch of green grass. You listened to the robin sing in the sunlit woods as you picked wildflowers for your mother, a small bright bouquet already growing in your hands. 

A bumblebee, with pollen dusted feet, bumbled above your head and stole your attention, the bee was so vibrant, so alive, you couldn’t help but follow. The grassy lea softened to mud underfoot as you ran into the wood, rabbits scurried from their burrows as your feet barely skimmed the ground. The spring air tasted of fresh, sweet strawberries, and smelled of damp, dewy grass, and blossomed flowers. You ran and felt like one of the forest animals as you bounded through the wood like a doe. You ran to feel the rush of air on your face and the wind through your hair. 

You kept running until you dropped, exhausted. You rolled onto your back and breathed in the endless blue sky above you, the sun glinting off of your face through the filter of spring leaves. Birds swooped and sang, chittering and chirupping from every direction, as they hopped from branch to branch. Blushed-pink blossoms drifted from gnarled branches of cherry trees, showering you with spring snow as you closed your eyes. 

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Loki watched from the darkness as sugar-pink blossoms sprinkled in your hair, and how your skin glittered under the golden spring sun. From where he stood, he could see the outline of your breasts, the pebbled hardness of your nipples as a cool breeze breathed over your sleeping body, rustling your sheer chiffon chiton. He had watched you run through the forest, so free, so full of life, so beautiful. He had to know you, to have you, to own you, his very own little springtime nymph with wind in her hair and flowers at her feet. Loki plucked a small, unblossomed, green bud from its bush and breathed life into it. Its black petals unfurled as he used his magic to transform the flower into a fluttering, inky butterfly. 

The butterfly was a flying flower as it flitted over to you, landing on the tip of your nose. You blinked, crossing your eyes as you looked down your nose at the fluttering, black butterfly. It spread its wings, sunlight catching them as they fluttered away. Without thinking, you stood on your feet and followed. You reached out, your fingertips grazing its soft, papery wings. 

The embroidered wildflowers that swayed in the meadow thinned out as you stepped into the shadows of towering beech and birch trees. That’s where you saw him. Tall, dark and shrouded in shadows amongst a field of cornflowers. You stopped and stared at the mysterious man who wore darkness so elegantly. Your curiosity was piqued as he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. 

The black butterfly was long forgotten, and your bouquet of wildflowers long abandoned, as you searched for the shadowy man, behind trees, and under bushes. He was watching you and you knew it. You couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him, but he was there. You could feel his eyes on you. You were like a spring fawn being stalked by a hungry wolf, he didn’t go straight for the kill. Instead, he watched, stalking you from the shadows as you wandered further and further from your familiar meadow. 

The canopy of thronged trees blocked the sun’s light the further into the forest you searched. Your feet were no longer yours as you continued to walk into the shadows, only stopping as you reached a ray of sunshine that cut through the shadowed darkness. There, the most beautifully enchanting flower you had ever seen stood tall and proud. It was a narcissus that glowed golden like the sun above. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached down and plucked the flower from its resting place. 

The earth under your feet began to tremble, then. There was a violent jolt that sent you backward, then another that knocked you down to the ground below. When the earth began to crack and quake, you scrambled to your feet, as frantic fear set in. You tried running back the way you had come, but the shaking ground made it impossible to regain your footing. From this gaping crevice, where the world had split into two, emerged the shadowy man. He stood before you, wearing a wide, toothy grin; and before you could even think to utter a word, you were whisked off of your feet. 

As the man stepped back through the earthy threshold, the earth began to move and quake once more as the gaping abyss came together, closing. The cracking of stone and earth brought you to your senses, you realized you were about to be taken into the black underworld from which he’d come. Terror took hold of your heart, yet your screams of protest were not to have been heard from the world above as you were soon lost within the darkness… 

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As you opened your eyes you saw silent snow falling from a colorless, black sky. Snowflakes spiraled and pirouetted downward, settling on your hair and eyelashes. You sat straight, naked, sore, and cold as you looked around. Tapering columns of obsidian rose from the stone floors, veiled with icy frost and veined with burning hellfire. The bed you were seated upon was lavished with flower embroidered silks and feathered pillows. You made a move to stand, but was stopped by adamantine shackles around your ankles. 

Before you could call out for help, your captor appeared from the shadows of the darkest corner of the room. You trembled as he approached. Petrified, shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his black cloak, faces of fear, of silent, agonized screams--as if it had been stitched by the very souls he ruled over. The man strode forward from the darkness, and you scuttered back against the slippery silks as you felt death radiate off of him. He smiled coldly as he knelt before you, cold, death-like hands resting above your bare knees. 

“I am Loki,” he said, his breath cold on your legs, “God of the Underworld.” 

Your heart stilled as he placed an icy kiss to your thigh, his familiarity with your body sent a chill down your spine, withering your very soul as the soreness between your legs alighted under his touch. 

“You must be famished,” Loki reached into the shadows and pulled forth a golden bowl of red pomegranate seeds, he placed one, then two, then three turned to six, between your lips, the juice staining your trembling lips, “Good girl,” he smiled maliciously as he ran this thumb over your bottom lip, bringing it to his mouth as he sucked the juice from it. 

The God unshackled your ankles and before he could react, you were running. You ran for your life knowing that between you and the door, your exit, was another. There’s an icy breath on your neck, and your panic rises, it was dark, cold, and wet as you ran aimlessly through the frosted, stony corridors. It was just the two of you, just you and the shadow of the man behind you. You choked on your sobs as you ran, but it didn’t matter how fast you ran--it never did--because you quickly realized that there’s always someone who could run faster. 

He was on you in a moment, his weight crushing as he pinned down your flailing limbs. You stilled as you heard a loud click of a shackle around your neck locking into place. You yelped as he yanked you to your feet by the chain around your neck. You slapped against his chest as he held you by your face, his grip freezing and bruising as he forced your mouth onto his. He pulled away, licking your lips as you squirmed against his hold. Loki groaned as he tasted the sweet and tart flavor of pomegranate on your tongue. He was ravenous and he wanted nothing more than to devour you again, and again. 

You hissed as he dragged you along by your chain. You stumbled as you struggled to keep pace with his confident, strong strides, and when you fell behind, you were yanked forward. You crossed a frozen-over river of molten magma, and a dark cavernous corridor illuminated by ghostly torches made of bone and stone, until you stopped before a great throne of obsidian and slithering shadow. Loki sat upon his throne and beckoned for you to come to him, when you made no movements, the god snatched you forward, causing you to stumble and fall to your knees before him. He looked down at you, grinning as he moved you to his lap. 

You squirmed as his hands roamed your naked body, leaving frost in their wake. He tsked your disobedience by pulling your chain taut, you teared as your head and neck propped at a painful angle. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt his lips on your neck, fire roared and flamed fiercely as it encircled his throne. He licked up the column of your throat, nipping at the skin beneath your jaw as his hands dipped between your hips, squeezing the insides of your thighs. You tugged against your restraint, grunting as the chain choked you in your efforts. 

Loki ran his fingers through your dry folds, parting them like delicate flower petals. You trembled against him as your breath shallowed, you couldn’t take your eyes off of his hands as you watched, helpless, in fear. He pushed your legs further apart, propping them up as he folded you to his liking. You grip his wrists as he touches you once more, tensing as his cold fingers grope your heat. You try to move, to close your legs, but Loki keeps you open, trapped and exposed. 

Your breath hitches as he inserts one finger, thrusting in and out of your wettening cunt. Shame sets your skin alight as you hear the wet, squelch of your blooming pleasure. Disgust and desire dancing together in thick, hot sways in your belly. 

“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you, (Y/N), Daughter of Demeter?” he husked hotly in your ear. 

You shivered against him as he added another finger, stoking a dangerous fire that had sparked deep within you. You had half a mind to wonder how he knew your name or who your mother was, but your building pleasure kept you from questioning him, kept you drunk on his influence as he fucked you with his fingers. 

“I’m going to defile you,” he growled. 

The pain is sharp, but so sweet, you want to close your eyes, to take yourself back to the flowering meadow, away from this hellish place, but you can’t--you’re hypnotized by his nimble fingers as they enter you. In and out, in and out, ebbing and flowing like an ocean wave. Loki holds you against his hips, and you can feel his hardened length pressing eagerly against you. You can’t help the loud moan that escapes your lips as he sends jolts of burning pleasure through your core as he scissors and thrusts his fingers, fucking you hard with his hand. You watch his fingers disappear inside you, and your throat dries and mouth waters at the sight of your arousal on them when he pulls them out. 

Your hand tugs at his raven hair as his fingers enter you once more, your cunt hotly welcoming him back inside. Loki groans beneath you as your hands grip and tug at his hair, and you pull at him as you try to quiet your growing moans. A pained growl, laced with masochistic pleasure, leaves him as your grip tightens, threatening to scalp the god beneath you, as he circles your clit with his other hand. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his hands work in perfect tandem. You squirm with need as you feel that ember, that beginning spark, grow and grow to a full-blown firestorm. 

“I want you to come for me, (Y/N). Come on my fingers,” he speaks against your neck, nipping and licking at your burning skin. 

He pulls your head further back by your chain as your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Your legs stiffen in his lap as you convulse and shatter into a thousand-and-one pieces. You fall apart in his hands, literally falling into his lap as your pleasure sends aftershocks through your body. Your breathing is still ragged and shallow as you calm. You watch as he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours as he sucks your ambrosia from his fingers with a wicked grin. 

“Beautiful, so beautiful,” you shiver as you feel him kiss your skin again, your body already trained to the feel of his lips, “And you’re all mine.”

Your eyes opened as you heard him snap, the realization of his words making your blood run cold with icy fear. A servant dressed in silver and gold appeared from the shadows of the throne room, a goblet made of bone and black hematite in hand. Loki took the goblet from the servant and they wordlessly melted back into the darkness. 

“Drink,” he instructed you. He glowered at you as you pushed against his arm, refusing to drink. You knew, from the stories your mother had told you as a child, that if any who drank or ate the food of the Underworld, they’d be trapped there for all eternity. 

“I am no fool,” you spit. 

He sneered at you, then. His smile widening ominously, “Oh, but you are, (Y/N). You’ve already eaten food from my realm, darling.” 

You blanched as you remembered the sweet-tang of the pomegranate seeds on your tongue. Bile rose to your throat and tears glossed your eyes as you came to the harsh truth of your new reality. 

No, no, no… This couldn’t be, no! This had to be some kind of cruel trick, right?

“Drink,” he instructed once more. You shook your head as your tears began to fall. 

Even in your current state, you were even more shocked as he grabbed your jaw, pressing down on the sides until he forced your mouth wide open. He poured the pomegranate wine into your mouth and down your throat, forcing you to choke and gurgle the drink. You swallowed and choked on shallow breaths as the wine dripped down your face onto your bare body. 

Loki hummed in content behind you as he licked up your neck and jaw as he tasted your skin and the wine, “Now you shall stay with me forevermore, as my bride, my queen.” 

You stilled at his words, hadn’t you already been condemned when you ate the pomegranate seeds? Why “now”? Why had he waited until after he forced that wine against your lips? No… It couldn’t be. 

As if he had read your thoughts, he smiled against you, tracing a drop of the scarlet wine that dripped from your chin to the valley of your breasts, spreading the sticky drink across your nipples, “Go ahead, (Y/N), ask me.” 

You shook your head, too afraid of his answer. You didn’t want to hear it, not if it meant you had condemned yourself to this hell--this nightmare. You whimpered as he yanked your head back by your chain, exposing your throat to him. 

“Ask me, (Y/N),” he hissed. 

You took a shaky, but deep breath, “Those pomegranate seeds… Were they truly from your realm?” 

“No,” he cackled villainously, “they weren’t--they were from yours.” 

Ice froze your heart as his words weighed on you, crushing you beneath their force. You couldn’t even react when you felt his hands move as he unrobed himself underneath you. As his hands spread your legs once more across his… As his hot length prodded your entrance. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*тαgℓιѕт*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧: @dopeqff​

[anewwitchsgrimoire]

PLANETARY DAYS

These are some of the meanings, correspondences, deities, etc. associated with each day of the week. These can also be used for planetary hours. For example, if performing a working during the planetary hour for Jupiter, one could use the information listed under Thursday, the day that corresponds to Jupiter. 

This is not a complete list. Consider this as a list of possibilities to add more layers, structure, effectiveness, and symbolism to your rituals, and magick. Not as necessities, or anything like that. Enjoy. 🖖 

SUNDAY

Works of: Wealth.

Planet: Sun.

Numbers: 6, 66, 666.

Color: Gold, Yellow, Orange.

Rules: Leo.

Metals: Gold, All Yellow and Lustrous Alloys.

Stones/Minerals: Tiger’s Eye, Topaz, Goldstone, Zircon, Citrine, Chrysoberyl.

Trees: Pine, Walnut, Date, Oak, Witch Hazel, Mimosa, Acacia.

Herbs: Sunflower, Chamomile, Yellow Rose, Chrysanthemum, Marigold, Eyebright, Pineapple, Mistletoe, St. John’s Wort, Laurel.

Incenses/Oils: Cinnamon, Frankincense, Saffron, Vanilla, Heliotropin, Cashew, Copal.

Element: Fire.

Direction: South.

Tools: Symbols, Lamen, Lance, Sword.

Deities: Apollo, Baal, Belenus, Grainne, Helios, Lugh, Mithras, Horus, Osiris, Ra, Sol, Shamash, Vishnu.

Angels: Michael, Raphael.

Shape: Hexagon, Hexagram.

Design: Radial Forms, Swirling Spirals.

Concepts: Advancement, Dominance, Healing, Egotism, Friendship, Prosperity, Abundance, Illumination, The Self, Joy, Leadership, Power, Wealth, Success, Will.

Intentions: Developing Harmony, Giving/Receiving Healing, Acquiring Money, Obtaining Patronage, Gaining Promotion, Establishing Peace, Increasing Wealth, Improving Willpower.

MONDAY

Works of: Mystery.

Planet: The Moon.

Numbers: 9, 99, 999.

Color: Silver, White, Gray, Lavender, Purple.

Rules: Cancer.

Metals: Silver, Platinum, Yttrium.

Stones/Minerals: Beryl, Moonstone, Alexandrite, Rock Crystal, Alabaster, Fluorspar, Mirror Glass.

Trees: Willow, Coconut, Bay, Hazel, Papaya, Carob, Laburnum.

Herbs: White and Purple Lilies, Hyacinth, Iris, Narcissus, Gourds, Peas, Beans, Turnip, Yam.

Incenses/Oils: Camphor, Orris Root, Galbanum, Artemisia, Wintergreen, Eucalyptus Oil, Jasmine Oil, Aromatic Seeds, Ylang-ylang.

Element: Water.

Direction: North-West.

Tools: Bow and Arrow, Magick Mirror.

Deities: Artemis, Bendis, Diana, Hecate, Isis, Khonsu, Luna, Selene, Shiva, Sin, Ta-Urt, Thoth, Tivs, Varuna.

Angels: Gabriel.

Shape: Nonagon, Enneagram.

Design: Circular, Crescent, Elliptical, and Maze-like.

Concepts: Astral Work, Birth, Psychic Ability, Cycles, Divination, Dreams, Glamor, Illusions, Balance, Shapeshifting, Subconscious and Unconscious, Spirituality, Tides, Transformation, Transmutation.

Intentions: Astral Travel, Safety for Birth and Children, Developing Psychic Senses, Increasing Intuition, Increasing and Remembering Dreams, Developing Glamor(s), Accessing the Subconscious and Unconscious Minds, Creating/Dispelling Illusions.

TUESDAY

Works of: Power.

Planet: Mars.

Numbers: 5, 55, 555.

Color: Red, Amber, Pale Yellow.

Rules: Aries, Co-rules Scorpio.

Metals: Iron, Brass, Rust, Steel, Nickel, Strontium, Magnetized Iron Fillings.

Stones/Minerals: Ruby, Garnet, Red Agnate, Bloodstone, Amber, Rhodochrosite, Red Jasper, Lodestone, Flint (worked flint particularly).

Trees: Ash, Mountain Ash, Holly, Pepper Tree, White Fig, Mountain Mahogany, Arbutus.

Herbs: Thistles, Cacti, Dandelion, Snapdragon, Stinging Nettle, Arrowroot, High John Conqueror, Bloodroot, Wild Ginger, Bamboo.

Incenses/Oils: Opoponax, Dragonsblood, Nicotiana, Peppermint, Mustard, Cumin, Asafoetida, Turmeric, Sweet Woodruff, Galangal.

Element: Fire.

Direction: South-West, North-East.

Tools: Anvil, Burin, Hammer, Scourge, Spear, Whip, Magic Sword.

Deities: Aries, Bellona, Horus, Mars, Nergal.

Angels: Khamael, Zhamael.

Shape: Pentagon, Pentagram.

Design: Zig-zag, Pointed Forms.

Concepts: Anger, Atavism, Conflict, Courage, Ego, Energy, Passion, Sex, Strength, Vengeance, Vigor.

Intentions: Controlling Anger, Enhancing Courage, Causing Discord, Increasing Energy, Dispelling Fear, Increasing Sex-Drive, Increasing Strength, Increasing Vigor.

WEDNESDAY

Works of: Mind.

Planet: Mercury.

Numbers: 8, 88, 888.

Colors: Orange, Light Blue, Violet, Light Yellow, Mother of Pearl.

Rules: Gemini, Virgo.

Metals: Mercury, Aluminum, Aircraft Composites, Quicksilver, Lanthanum.

Stones/Minerals: Fire Opal, Carnelian, Cairngorm, Sard, Banded Agate, Coins, Small pebbles, Skipping Stones.

Trees: Birch, Aspen, Almond, Mulberry, Lombardy Poplar, Magnolia, Pistachio.

Herbs: Marjoram, Lavender, Ferns, Medicinal, Castor Palm, Mandrake, Stillengia, Parsley.

Incenses/Oils: Mace, Star Anise, Mastic, Sandalwood, Orange, Lemongrass, Lavender Oil, Fennel Oil, Walnut.

Element: Air.

Direction: East.

Deities: Hermes, Mercury, Thoth, Ganesha, Nebu, Woden.

Angels: Mikael, Raphael.

Shape: Octagon, Octagram.

Design: Segmented Shapes, Mirror Images, Countercharged Patterns.

Concepts: Business, Communication, Deception, Flexibility, Healing, Hyperactivity, Magick, Memory, Music, Poetry, Protection, Psychopomp, Science, Speed, Theft, Travel, Trickery, Divination, Education, Mystical Knowledge and Insight, Predictions, Resourcefulness, Self-Improvement.

Intentions: Business Success, Improving Communication, Preventing Discord, Exam Success, Developing Flexibility, Divination, Developing Influence, Increasing Knowledge, Improving Memory, Improving or Learning Music, Establishing Peace, Recovering Property, Public Speaking, Improving Mentality, Mental over Emotional, Writing.

THURSDAY

Works of: Expansion.

Planet: Jupiter.

Numbers: 4, 44, 444.

Colors: Blue, White, Lilac, Shell-Pink.

Rules: Sagittarius, Co-rules Pisces.

Metals: Tin, Zinc, Antimony.

Stones/Minerals: Sapphire, Lapis Lazuli, Amethyst, Labradorite, Turquoise, Aquamarine. 

Trees: Oak, Cedar, Pine, Olive, Juniper, Hickory, Sassafras, Maple, Chestnut, Horse Chestnut, Lime, Sycamore.

Herbs: Flax, Borage, Brook Lime, Liverwort, Green Ti Plant, Agrimony, Purple Betany, Sage.

Incenses/Oils: Nutmeg, Clove, Pine Gum, Sarsaparilla, Hyssop.

Element: Air/Water.

Direction: South-East.

Deities: Zeus, Athena, Poseidon, Jupiter, Minerva, Marduk, Indra, Amun-Ra, Thor.

Angels: Tzadkiel, Sachiel.

Shape: Square, Four-Pointed Star.

Design: Regular Rhombic and Rectangular Forms, Parallelograms, Squares, Intersecting lines.

Concepts: Ascendancy, Devotion, Enthusiasm, Ethics, Expansion, Honor, Fortune, Humor, Law, Politics, Expansion, Health, Growth, Increase, Healing, Spirituality, Fortune, Luck, Philosophy, Optimism, Opportunity, Generosity, Justice.

Intentions: Developing Ambition, Career Success, Increasing Enthusiasm, Increasing Health, Improving Fortune, Improving Health, Improving Luck, Developing Ethics, Dealing with Law, Increasing Wealth, Gaining Promotion, Seeking or Promoting Truth, Spiritual Contact, Taking Responsibility.

FRIDAY

Works of: Beauty.

Planet: Venus.

Numbers: 7, 77, 777.

Color: Green, Turquoise, Pink.

Rules: Libra, Taurus.

Metals: Copper, Bronze.

Stones/Minerals: Emerald, Malachite, Peridot, Jade, Rose Quartz, Amazonite.

Trees: Apple, Pear, Lemon, Lime, Orange, Cherry, Cinchona, Beech, Elder, Fig.

Herbs: Rose, Hawthorn, Vervain, Myrtle, Columbine, Anemone, Strawberry, Periwinkle, Cyclamen, Foxglove, Tulip, Hibiscus.

Incenses/Oils: Storax, Sandalwood, Vetiver, Valerian, Geranium, Licorice, Tonka Bean, Cardamom, Spearmint, Lemon.

Element: Earth.

Direction: Center.

Tools: Belt, Girdle, Harp, Necklace.

Deities: Aphrodite, Venus, Freya, Turan, Ishtar, Ushan, Lakshmi, Hathor, Bast.

Angels: Haniel, Anael.

Shape: Heptagon, Heptagram.

Design: Branching Forms, Flowing and Harmonious Lines, Arabesque.

Concepts: Attraction, Art, Beauty, Creativity, Culture, Emotions, Fertility, Grace, Inspiration, Love, Passion, Pleasure, Self-Confidence, Sensuality, Sexuality, Sociability.

Intentions: Increasing Attraction, Developing Beauty, Increasing Creativity, Increasing Fertility, Developing Friendship, Obtaining or Promoting Love, Satisfying Lust, Increasing Passion, Pleasure, Self-Confidence, Improving Social-Skills.

SATURDAY

Works of: Form.

Planet: Saturn.

Numbers: 3, 33, 333.

Color: Black, Brown,

Rules: Capricorn, Co-rules Aquarius.

Metals: Lead, Antimony, Tungsten, Zirconium, Cobalt, Titanium.

Stones/Minerals: Diamond, Jet, Onyx, Basalt, Slate, Black Salt, Anthracite, Geodes, Obsidian, Pumice, Smoked Glass.

Trees: Yew, Elm, Cypress, Pine, Ebony, Acacia, Pomegranate.

Herbs: Violet, Trillium, Poppy, Nightshade, Horsetail, Amaranth, Mullein.

Incenses/Oils: Myrrh, Spikenard, Guaiac Wood, Tamarind, Cassia, Patchouli.

Element: Earth.

Direction: North.

Tools: Hourglass, Scythe, Scales, Sickle, Veil.

Deities: Kronos, Saturn, Hera, Juno, Kali, Brahma, Ea, Uni.

Angels: Tzaphkiel, Cassiel.

Shape: Triangle, Three-Pointed Star.

Design: Abstract based on Natural, Concentric Circles, Geometry suggesting Spatial Perspective.

Concepts: Agriculture, Austerity, Binding, Conservation, Duty, Equilibrium, Formation, History, Legal Matters, Limitation, Patience, Practicality, Preservation, Prudence, Reservation, Restriction, Self-Discipline, Teaching, Time, Wisdom.

Intentions: Banishing, Binding, Dispelling, Establishing Equilibrium, Performing Duty, Studying, Self-Discipline, Protecting Home, Developing Patience, Developing Practicality, Decrease, Teaching.

Sources: 

“Planetary Magick: The Heart of Western Magick” by Melita Denning, Osbourne Phillips.

“Practical Planetary Magick” by David Rankine, Sorita d’Este.

For some reason, it won't let me reblog this so I've had to copy and paste from where I found it.

[dougdimmadodo]

Parent Bug (Elasmucha grisea)

Family: Acanthosomatidae (Typical Shield Bug Family)

IUCN Conservation Status: Unassessed

True to its name, the Parent Bug is unusual among insects in that it cares for its young (the majority of insects will leave their eggs as soon as they are laid, and even species that care for their eggs will typically leave the larvae to fend for themselves as soon as they hatch.) Shortly after mating in the spring a female will fly to a suitable host tree and lay a large cluster of pale yellow eggs on the underside of a leaf. She will then stand over her eggs and aggressively defend them from potential predators such as ants, beetles, earwigs and parasitic wasps, responding to potential threats by flapping her wings, lurching forwards and producing a foul-smelling chemical from glands in her abdomen and metathorax (the rear segment of her body.) Once the larvae (which resemble smaller, duller-coloured adults) hatch they remain in a cluster underneath their mother and feed on their egg shell while she continues to stand guard over them - if they try to leave the cluster before they are old enough she will use her antennae to gently push them back. As the larvae develop they will begin to make short trips off of the leaf they were born on to feed on the sap of their host tree, with their mother continuing to follow them closely to protect them as they do so. By late July and early August the larvae reach the final stage of their development and will split off into smaller groups and leave their leaf to transition into adulthood, and by spring of the next year they will be ready to have young of their own. Found across almost all of Europe, adult Parent Bugs are active year round and are primarily found on the leaves and branches of birches (although they may also be found on spruce, beech, alder or holly trees.) They feed almost exclusively on the sap of their host trees which they are able to efficiently digest thanks to symbiotic enzyme-producing bacteria that inhabit their digestive tracts, and mother Parent Bugs will deliberately cover their eggs in this bacteria so that they can be passed into the digestive tracts of their young once they eat their eggshells.  

Image Source: https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/334551-Elasmucha-grisea

[faeryqueenwitch]

🌌The Planets and the Days of the Week🌌

Each of the planets rules a day of the week. Use it’s associated metals,crystals, incense,and other elements to strengthen a spell or ritual worked on that day. In addition, the associations with the sun can be used not only on Sunday but with all sun magic, and the Monday associations can be used in all magic. If you are calling a particular archangel,apply the associations of its planet or weekday.

🌌 Days Of The Week 🌌

☀️Sunday ☀️

Planet: Sun

Archangel: Michael

Color(s): Gold

Element: Fire

Crystals: Amber,carnelian,diamond,clear crystal quartz,tiger eye, or golden topaz

Incense: Cloves,cinnamon,or frankincense

Trees: Bay,birch, or laurel

Herbs and Oils: Chamomile,juniper,rosemary,saffron, or St.John’s Wort

Metal: Gold

Astrological Rulership: Leo

For ambition,power,and success; for fathers; improving health; prosperity; self- confidence; and overcoming bad luck.

🌕 Monday 🌕

Planet: Moon

Archangel: Gabriel

Color(s): Silver or translucent white

Element: Water

Crystals: Moonstone, mother of pearl, pearl, selenite, or opal

Incense: Jasmine, myrrh, mimosa, or lemon

Trees: Willow or alder

Herbs and Oils: Lotus,poppy, or wintergreen

Metal: Silver

Astrological Rulership: Cancer

For home and family matters,for women (especially mothers and grandmothers),children,animals,fertility,secrets,and psychic gifts.

⭐ Tuesday ⭐

Planet: Mars

Archangel: Samael or Camael

Color(s): Red

Element: Fire

Crystals: Garnet,Bloodstone,Ruby, or Red Jasper

Incense: Dragon’s blood, all spices, ginger, mint, or thyme

Trees: Cypress,Holly, or Pine

Herbs and Oils: Basil,cinnamon,coriander,garlic,pepper, or tarragon

Metal: Iron or Steel

Astrological Rulership: Aries (co-ruler of Scorpio)

For courage,change,independence,overcoming seemingly impossible odds and bullies,energy,passion,strength,perfection,principles,and fierce defense of the vulnerable.

☿️ Wednesday ☿️

Planet: Mercury

Archangel: Raphael

Color(s): Yellow

Element: Air

Crystals: Yellow agate, citrine, falcon’s eye, yellow jasper, malachite, or onyx

Incense: Lavender,lemongrass, or mace

Trees: Hazel or ash

Herbs and Oils: Dill,fennel,parsley, or valerian

Astrological Rulership: Gemini or Virgo

For money making, examinations and tests, learning new things, shot-distance travel, moving, short holidays, repelling envy, malice,spite, and deceit.

♃ Thursday ♃

Planet: Jupiter

Archangel: Sachiel

Color(s): Blue or Purple

Element: Air

Crystals: Azurite,Lapis Lazuli, Sodalite, or Turquoise

Incense: Agrimony, Cedar, Sandalwood, or Sage

Tree: Beech, Oak, or Ash

Herbs and Oils: Borage, cinquefoil, coltsfoot, hyssop, or mistletoe

Metal: Tin

Astrological Rulership: Sagittarius (co-ruler or Pisces)

For expansion,career,leadership,long distance travel, moving, justice, marriage, self-employment,loyalty, male potency,and banishing excesses.

♀️ Friday ♀️

Planet: Venus

Archangel: Anael

Color(s): Green or Pink

Element: Earth

Crystals: Amethyst (also mercury),emerald,jade, moss agate, or rose quartz

Incense: Geranium,rose,strawberry,or vervain

Trees: Almond,apple or birch

Herbs and Oils: Feverfew, mugwort, pennyroyal, verbena, or yarrow

Metal: Copper

Astrological Rulership: Taurus or Libra

For all love magic, fidelity,sacred sex,mending quarrels, environment,fertility, women’s health, gradual growth in all matters, beauty,friendship, reducing the influence of destructive lovers,and possessiveness.

🪐 Saturday 🪐

Planet: Saturn

Archangel: Cassiel

Color(s): Brown,black,or grey

Element: Earth

Crystals: Haematite, jet, lodestone, obsidian, or smoky quartz

Incense: Aconite,cypress,or patchouli

Trees: Blackthorn or yew

Herbs: Aspen,bistort,comfrey,horsetail, or Solomon’s seal

Metals: Lead and Pewter

Astrological Rulership: Capricorn (co-ruler of Aquarius)

For unfinished business,endings,slow-moving official matters, Locating lost objects,animals,anti-addiction and debt, lifting depression,pain and illness,long-term psychic protection,locating lost objects(as well as animals and people), and establishing boundaries.

[wc-fourfates]

Clantember Day 1: Territories

ThunderClan

ThunderClan’s territory is ancient woodland comprised largely of oaks, but also with ash, beech, and elm mixed in. There’s a good mix of clearings and areas with denser underbrush, suited to a variety of hunting styles. There aren’t any human walking paths, but there are a variety of deer paths.

To the North is the Thunderpath, their border with ShadowClan. Because of the inconvenience of crossing, ThunderClan has little contact with ShadowClan except at Gatherings. Technically ShadowClan also owns a small strip of forest between the Thunderpath and Fourtrees, but it is not commonly used unless the extra hunting grounds are sorely needed. The Snakerocks are found along this border, and the Sandy Hollow is due North from camp.

To the East is the edge of the Twolegplace. It is a large town/small city, the portion that borders ThunderClan territory being a peaceful residential area. Most kittypets in the area are indoor-outdoor cats that go in for the night, and most are smart enough not to venture into the woods but instead hang around the yards or in Treecutplace.

To the South is Treecutplace. In this area of England, junipers are the only native conifers, and the rest are only found where cultivated. Here, lodgepole pines are planted for timber, and there is little undergrowth as they are regularly harvested. ThunderClan’s border markers end at the edge of Treecutplace, but they sometimes hunt here when the humans aren’t too active.

To the West is the River, which marks their border with RiverClan, and Fourtrees more to the Northwest. The Owl-tree is not far from Fourtrees, marking the end of ThunderClan’s territory in that direction.

RiverClan

RiverClan is mostly dry heath, with lots of alder and silver birch along the river. The river itself is relatively slow-moving along much of the territory, and therefore safe to swim in so long as one is careful to stick to those parts. There is also a large stream running through the territory, around which the camp is built.

To the North, the River cascades down forming the Falls, into the Gorge that divides their territory from WindClan. The steep, sandy slopes are navigable provided one is careful, but falling over the edge unprepared spells almost certain death.

The river curves around, flowing from the North down to the East border of the territory. The river is the calmest here, safest for swimming and fishing. When Sunningrocks was an island, it was a favored spot for swimming, fishing, and relaxing, and it still is, provided RiverClan can keep a claim over it for any length of time.

To the South, the territory is cut off by a small Thunderpath leading to the Farmhouse. It’s a small family farm of several acres, containing a Twoleg den, a handful of assorted livestock, pastureland, and some actively planted fields. RiverClan keeps a friendly relationship with the few barn cats.

To the East, there is more free heathland. RiverClan doesn’t always bother to mark this border, so there is no hard line on where it ends. Though they could claim more of this territory, it is not especially fruitful for hunting and so they usually consider it more trouble than it’s worth to head all the way out to hunt and patrol. The Flood-camp, the backup area RiverClan evacuates to in case of heavy rain or meltwater, is located East of the main camp.

WindClan

WindClan is comprised of lovely heath and moors with very few trees and shrubs. The elevation increases steadily from Fourtrees, transitioning smoothly into the mountains north of the territories.

To the North, WindClan borders on the Thunderpath. Past the Thunderpath is the mountains, which are definitely on the smaller end for mountains, with fairly smooth slopes. The mountain closest to the territories is often referred to as “the Mother”, supposedly because the top resembles a mother cat and her kittens when viewed from the right angle. “Mothermouth” is the entrance to an aborted attempt at a mine, within which lies the Moonstone. Cross-the-Way Barn is a bit south of Mothermouth, and it’s where Barley lives.

To the East, WindClan borders on Fourtrees and on the edge of ThunderClan’s forest territory. The first large slope past Fourtrees is named Runner’s Hill, after Windstar herself. The Outlook Rock lies just East of camp, allowing a cat to survey a large portion of the territory at once.

To the South is the Gorge that borders RiverClan. WindClan cats, having little reason to go down to the water, tend to mark their border well away from this so no cat accidentally runs too near the edge.

To the West is largely farmland, though the area immediately around the River continues uninterrupted for some way. Though WindClan will hunt upriver in times of need, they don’t claim this territory for the same reason RiverClan doesn’t - it simply isn’t worth is most of the time to stray so far from camp.

ShadowClan

ShadowClan is largely valley bog and alder carrs, though the elevation varies enough therein that it can usually be traversed without getting muddy. The bog supports a variety of birds, reptiles and amphibians for the cats to prey on.

The North, South, and West borders are all demarcated by the Thunderpath, and to the East is the Twolegplace. Though they’re bordered on all sides by Twoleg activity, ShadowClan’s territory is usually left quite well alone because of how difficult it is for humans to traverse and build on. However, this also means that in times of scarcity they do not have any additional areas to expand to.

To the South is the border with ThunderClan, and also where they have the driest and most densely forested area. The Burnt Sycamore resides in a clearing near this border.

Carrionplace is located to the Northwest, and cats will hunt here occasionally. Other areas are usually preferred, but Carrionplace rats are often turned to when other prey is scarce. Contrary to the stereotypes, they do not eat crowfood, but hunting parties do often come back smelling like it.

[heathen-alfa-wolf]

Making a Gandr (Rune Wand)

1) Select a wood with the qualities you desire. Here are some suggested woods and their corresponding magical qualities.

(Alder)-The "battle witch" of trees, it represents truth, as in purification by fire.

(Ash)-The "guardian tree," dispenser of justice. The first man was an ash. The world tree, Yggdrasil-synonymous with the yew-is commonly referred to as an evergreen ash. Ash bark is deadly to snakes.

(Beech)-Tree of the Three Norns, its bark is also deadly to snakes. Runes were written on thin beech boards.

(Birch)-Called the "birth-tree," and associated with the Mother Goddess, it has been used in healing and for magical besom brooms. It also symbolizes the return of spring. Traditionally you consecrate it to Thor. The birch protects you against lightning.

(Elder)-The "thirteenth tree," represents the Great Goddess and is associated with Berkana.

(Elm)-In the Northern Tradition, the first woman was shaped from an elm. This tree also is associated with the Mother Goddess, the light elves, and healing.

(Hazel)-The tree of wisdom, the hazel cuts away impurities to see the self honestly.

(Laurel)-The oracle tree of Delphi, this tree represents victory and honor.

(Oak)-The "Forest King" of endurance, tree of the Norse god Frey, and the primary wood of the sacred fire of the Goddess, the oak is associated with fertility, ancestry, and love. Its fruit, the acorn, is a symbol of the Goddess.

(Pine)-Representing the cycle of life and rebirth, the pine is called "Tree of the Manifest," the sun. Pinecones are its fruits and symbolize the Goddess.

(Rowan)-Called "Tree of Runes" and "Wood of the Sorcerer," the rowan's pliability is thought to aid in magic. The tree branches are tied with red thread to protect your home or property from enemies.

(Silver Fir)-The fir is associated with the Moon, representing feminine rebirth.

(Willow)-The traditional tree that wands are fashioned from, the willow is flexible and excellent to use for magic and enchantment. This tree draws its power from water.

(Yarrow)-Also called Milfoil, this is a popular wood for divining wands. It is also a healing herb called "the medicine of life."

(Yew)- Yew is a poplar wood for runic talismans and wands. It is also a tree of death and rebirth and is associated with Yggdrasil, Odin, Ymir, Uller, and the Valkyries.

2) After choosing the type of wood to use, locate a living tree from which to cut your wand.

3) When you find the tree, communicate with it. Sit under the tree and feel its bark supporting you. Touch the tree with the palms of your hands. Look up at the canopy and notice how the branches weave out from the trunk.

4) Walk around the tree three times sunwise (clockwise), asking if you may have a branch from its body. You will receive some sort of feeling at this point, whether or not to proceed with cutting the wand. If it is positive, the tree will help you select the best branch. if you feel a negative response, find another tree and repeat the procedure.

5) Dig a small hole in the ground at the base of the tree and make an offering such as mead and bread or plant food, and then thank the tree. Say to the guardian, or "wight," of the tree:

Hail to thee, wight of (insert tree name),

I pray to thee give this branch of your body!

Into it send thy speed,

To it bind the might of the bright runes.

(insert the names of the runes to be used on your wand)

Then cut your wand, while chanting ot toning the runes, preferably on a day of the new moon or during the waning moon. Timing the cutting in this manner will ensure the proper amount of time-an entire moon cycle-for "curing" the wand. Traditionally, wands were snapped off the tree, not cut with metal blades. Staffs are larger and are usually cut. If you are going to cut the branch with a metal blade, use your magical knife or sword, and take appropriate safety precautions as you proceed. Protect the tree by painting the cut area on its trunk or branch with a small amount of bituminous paint or seal it in another way.

6) Once the wand or staff is cut, thank the tree wight for its magical gift by saying:

Wight if (insert treename), accept my thanks.

Henceforth may your might be in this branch!

Magically bound to the bright runes (insert rune names),

Working my will with speed and wisdom.

7)Begin to shape the branch's personality. Use your knife to strip off the bark, collecting and keeping the bark shavings on a cloth or piece of newspaper. Sometime during the next 28 days (a moon phase), go back and sprinkle the bark shavings around the base of the tree in a sunwise (clockwise) circle. While doing this, touch the tree with the palms of your hands and thank it again. Create a simple blessing song or chant for the tree, and sing it as you walk around the base of the tree three times sunwise.

Leave the stripped wand in the sunlight and moonlight for an entire moon cycle, while working with it each day to perfect its shape.

9) After the wands skin has dried, you can paint, write, or burn runes into the surface, but ideally cut them into the wand. When carved into the wand, the runes infuse the tool with supernatural and divine strength. The "ristir," meaning "cut," is an extremely sharp wood carving tool customarily used for the cutting of runes. You could also use a knife.

The cutting of the runes into different materials is an act of magic, one requiring your full attention. Call in the appropriate divine energies as you work, making an effort to sense the rune before you cut it. State the purpose of the rune and sense the direction of the energies. This will help you decide where to start the cutting. When in doubt, use your intuition. Chant the runes or the corresponding Galdr song with each rune that you cut into the wood. If the wand has a magical name, carve it on the shaft. Besides cutting runes on your wand, you can also use consecrated oil or the ashes of burned runes to trace the symbols.

Take time to think carefully before marking the tool irrevocably with the runes. Be sure the runes match the tool's intended use. The purpose of putting runes on the tool is essentially to bless and dedicate it to a specific task. The runes make the tool's at- tributes purer, stronger, and more reliable.

10) After carving them, the next step is to redden the runes. Traditionally, "Tiver" extracted from the madder plant, is used. As an interesting side note, the word tiver means "magic," and the color red symbolizes magic and active energy. Red runes stimulate the circulation of the blood and the senses. You can also use red ocher, minium (red lead), dragon's-blood resin, or another reddening substance. These reddening pigments are ground with linseed oil, in a sacred manner, while you are chanting, "Laukaz, Laukaz, Laukaz," before you begin. Laukaz invokes the fertility of nature. To apply the red dye to the runes, a special tool called a "galdrstaf" is customarily used. Inscribed with the appropriate runes, it is a small veneer-thin piece of wood cut into the shape of an isosceles triangle that can easily be held in your hand. Chant or sing the runes as you redden them.

11) Use consecrated oil or beeswax to seal your wand. Match the magical qualities of the oil to the intended purpose of your wand. For example, a wand sealed with honeysuckle oil would give it qualities of protection, abundance, and strength.

12) Complete your runic wand with natural materials like silk ribbon, feathers, and shells, or mount a quartz crystal in the tip. The hinder (bottom) end of the gandr is rounded or blunted.