indie bard maiden

Writing Account

[indie-bard-maiden]

The Ballad of Hollowfaye Masterlist:

(short story collection available on my wattpad account: @handmaidenofvenus)

Short Stories in Collection:

~The Clinic~

(The Vampire story) A girl notices her boyfriend has been acting quite strange since she had sex with him for the first time during a family camping trip. Eyes turning black, not reflecting in mirrors, head burying into her neck for longer than should be necessary. Even if bro IS a little horny. What is wrong with him? Little does she know, Bro is going through it. He is, after all, the one with eyes turning black, the one not reflecting in mirrors, the one who keeps burying his head into his girlfriend's neck with an insatiable thirst he's never known before. WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM??? Genre: YA Paranormal Romance Word Count: (to be determined) Chapters/Parts: Sol Rathborne (1) Litha Rosewood (2) Sol Rathborne (3) Litha Rosewood (4) Sol Rathborne (5) Litha Rosewood (6)

~The Greenhouse~

(tree person/nymph story in love with a City™️, personification of the town Hollowfaye)

The mayor of Hollowfaye, Wynter Myst, knows his time to die is upon him, but he is more than happy to be reunited with his lover in the dirt that is her arms.

Genre: Flash Fiction

Species: Nymph/Tree person??? (This man is a tree, yo) that wants to stick his dick in some dirt. Tree person sticks his dick in a bitch, call that a bark, am I right????????? (Excuse that last sentence, something came inside-- ooop I mean--over me 😳😳😳)

Word Count: 599

Chapters:

Just this one, doll, and you had better thank me for that considering the content of this wee lass.

~Black Crescent Bay~

(Mermaids/Sirens/Pirate Story)

Patty Dean (the descendant of a cruel Pirate Lord) is being targeted by a clan of mermaids. They came for his brother last year and would've come for him too if he hadn't already been dragged to the icy depths of Black Crescent Bay by a Siren, Alix Kane. Now he needs to find her again. He needs to understand. But is it too late? Has he already fallen under her spell?

Chapters/Parts:

Past (Last Halloween)

Present (This Hallows' Eve Nigh)

~The Cemetery~

(The Skeleton Story)

Everyone receives a curse at death. To be immortal forever, to move on to the afterlife, to pick up garbage eternally, it all depends on thoust own decisions and fate and whether the Goddess of Destiny put in a good word for yee or not. 

Two sisters received quite a crummy deal. Buried together hundreds of years ago were damned to return to the world of the living for only 12 hours on ONE day annually. Halloween. The day of ghosts and ghouls, and, yes, skeletons. 

Genre: A dialogue/Script

Word Count: (to be determined)

Chapters/Parts:

Just this one, dearies. Unless. Unless they were to scratch themselves free of their coffin, raise themselves from their haunted grave, gain their freedom from this here anthology. Pray they stay put, my darlings...

~The Faerie Circle~

(The Fairy Story)

Briar Duttlewitt's sister was kidnapped by faeries, and now she's traveled to the Wildwood with a ticket to another world in hopes of rescuing her.

Genre: Script/Screenplay

Word Count: (to be determined)

Chapters/Parts:

Just this one. Just a short little episode. A short little clip. Just a little sumn sumn.

~The Haunted Manor~

(The Ghost/Witches Story)

Three witches (two Vespers and a Depraysier) and a mortal unite over an Ouija board in the Vespers' haunted house and try to commune with the spirits of their brutally murdered and dearly departed family.

Genre: YA Fantasy

Word Count: (to be determined)

Chapters/Parts:

Iris Vespers (1: pt 1)

Fernezra Vespers (2)

Sadbh Vespers (3)

Malin Depraysier (4: pt.1 & pt.2)

Abboticus Jinx (5)

Iris Vespers (6: pt 2)

~The Convent of East Church~

(Goddess/Mortal Story)

A nun is offended that the convent she's dedicated her life to refused to learn the name of their gods. She's been personally touched by them. She owes her life to them. She won't stop until she guesses right and can thank the god that saved her personally.

Genre: LGBTQIA+ Romance with a Deity

Word Count: (to be determined)

Chapters/Parts:

Just this one. Can't be fucked to write them fucking. Yee should be thanking me for my holiness and dedication to chastity. (They definitely fuck at the end.)

~The High School~

(The Demi-God Story)

Two Half-Mortals must kneel before the Council of the Godly Power and declare their godly parentage lest they pay the ultimate price. They better not guess wrong... There will be dire consequences. Even more than embarrassment.

Genre: Whimsical God/Goddess Fantasy

Word Count: (to be determined)

Chapters/Parts:

This one, and this one alone. You're welcome, by the way.

~The Depths~

(The Siren Story)

A siren must save a mortal from revenge. Again and again.

Genre: YA Fantasy

Word Count: (to be determined)

Chapters/Parts:

Yesteryear (Alix Kane's POV)

Yonderyear (Alix Kane's POV)

~The Wildwood~

(The Werewolf Story)

When a girl transforms under the full moon and slaughters her best friend she tries to run to the police. They are really shit at their jobs.

Genre: Cops

Word Count: (to be determined)

Chapters/Parts:

Just this one because they threatened to shoot me.

~potions & things~

(The Demon/Immortal Story)

The Crone makes another sacrifice as apart of the deal she made with a demon at The Doors of Death. Only this one isn't working out the way she originally hoped.

Genre: short story (literal)

Word count: 1259 (allegedly) 

Chapters:

Just this one. That's what a short story is. Gosh, guys. Get it together..... ughhhhhh.

~The Morgue~

(The Afterlife/Doors of Death Story)

Fallon Noot must make her choice at The Doors of Death.

Genre: Dyin' and Cryin'

Word Count: (to be determined)

Chapters/Parts:

This one. And this one alone. For we're nearing the end.

~The Library~

(The Human Story)

The goddaughter of Wynter Myst retells The Ballad of Hollowfaye.

Genre: Ballad

Word Count: (to be determined)

Chapters/Parts:

Just this. You're welcome

[a-tangled-mermaid]

Sigh. At least I have this.

[podcastwizard]

i do NOT write for myself i write for the eleven year old girl walking circles on the playground making up stories in her head and muttering the dialogue out loud. i see you girl. that stick you found DOES look like a cool dagger.

[mxrderscenes]

writing is so funny because i could write nonstop for 9hrs and then hit a block where im like "how do i transition between this moment and the next?" and then i just dont touch it for 6 months

[denise-elviras]

''what if my writing isn't good eno--'' what if it's a reflection of your of your soul. what if it has a place in this world. what if you write it anyway

[blessthosewhocurseyou]

What if it's allowed to be bad?!

[luna-azzurra]

Tired & Exhausted Character Traits

 ˙⋆✮ Reading the same sentence four times and still not absorbing it

 ˙⋆✮ Losing track of a word mid-sentence and just trailing off

 ˙⋆✮ The specific clumsiness of bumping into furniture that's always been there

˙⋆✮ Forgetting why they walked into a room and standing there deciding whether to care

 ˙⋆✮ The way emotions become unreasonably huge when exhausted

 ˙⋆✮ Staring at a text for minutes and then forgetting to reply

 ˙⋆✮ Laughing at things that aren't funny just because the filter is gone

 ˙⋆✮ The way sarcasm sharpens when someone is running on nothing

 ˙⋆✮ Falling asleep in any position that isn't fully horizontal

 ˙⋆✮ Asking a question and immediately forgetting the answer given

 ˙⋆✮ The squint at a screen that's been at the same brightness all day

 ˙⋆✮ Rubbing eyes until colors appear behind eyelids

 ˙⋆✮ That slight delay before responding like the signal is lagging

 ˙⋆✮ Eating whatever requires the least effort regardless of hunger

 ˙⋆✮ The way a tired person's handwriting changes completely

 ˙⋆✮ Nodding along to a conversation they've fully checked out of

 ˙⋆✮ The misdirected irritability that lands on whoever's closest

 ˙⋆✮ Forgetting whether they locked the door and being too tired to go back

 ˙⋆✮ Phrases becoming shorter and shorter until it's just sounds

[luna-azzurra]

Writer confidence is not a thing you build and then have. It's a thing you have for about eleven minutes after writing something good and then it evaporates and you have to make more. There is no reservoir. There is no saving it up. You produce it fresh each time from scratch like some kind of emotional artisan bread and if you don't write for a few days you run out and have to start the whole process over again from flour.

[naldibutnice]

Anna May Wong by Edward S. Curtis, c. 1925

[victusinveritas]

[indie-bard-maiden]

Black Crescent Bay

(my NOVEL on wattpad, not to be confused with the short story in my short story collection 'The Ballad of Hollowfaye'! This is just another siren story that also takes place in my fictional town of Hollowfaye. Different characters but same setting.)

Esmarie Kestrel is a human girl. A normal human girl. She's 21, attends Hollowfaye Community College, and JUST wants to make it to the fashion show at the end of her senior year. She's a seamstress, a designer for her school's Theater, and that's ALL she cares about. Who needs math? But also who needs sleep? ESMARIE DOES! So she'd appreciate it if this siren fishboy who calls himself her mate would stop haunting her dreams and giving her DREADFULLY awful romantic visions of their lives together! And while he's at it, he could TAKE her stupid mermaid tail back because EW!

(4)

the lizard monster

His fingers... They set my skin on fire... And I knew them too, I knew them from my dream. They weren't webbed or slimy, but they were the same! The feeling they gave me, the warmth, the disgust, it was exactly the same.

"Wait, wait!" He pulled me back, nearly tripping me up on my heels. The skirt of my dress twisted around my legs and forced me into him. He caught me like it was nothing, like I wasn't a helpless fish caught in a net of fabric.

"Please," I hated how similar it was to the nightmare. I forced myself out of his grip. He didn't resist like he usually did. And he wasn't as strong as I remembered. Or at least, he wasn't fighting my departure this time. "I'm sorry--I'm not feeling well. And I'm sick... And I have class in the morning, though I probably won't go... Because I'm sick. And not feeling well. And I'm seriously very drunk."

He shook his head. Those eyes. God, those eyes. They were so clear. And glowing. Who was he?

"Okay, yeah," he seemed lost for words. Very unlike me. Who could not STOP talking. Not even to save my own ass. "Can I help? You can't even walk straight. Or run, for that matter."

I burped, "I can run just fine, thank you. Didn't you see me?"

He shrugged, "It was a fair attempt, I'll admit, but--" He trailed off.

His eyes were all over my face, and his fingers twitched by his side. I felt the same. I couldn't say how, but I knew we were feeling the same. Of course, my desire was completely against my will. And while I was trying to run far, far away from him, he wanted to pull me closer and never let me go.

It made me sick.

"I can get home just fine on my own, thanks." He reached for me as I stumbled away, "Oh please, piss off. Don't touch me. I can still feel your slime all over me. God, it's everywhere."

"My slime?" I heard him call from behind me. His footsteps fell in line with mine, and I gagged. He smelled like salt water and warm sand and sunshine on a beach and... and... I hated it. I hated that I wanted to deeply inhale when he was that close.

"Yes, your slime," I growled, "I can feel it. And don't think you're fooling me just because you have legs. I know what you are. I've seen it."

He actually stopped. But not for long. He was grabbing my hand again, and an electric shock ran up my arm. I flinched out of his touch. "Just stop it, alright! Leave me alone! I don't know you!"

He scowled down at me. Why was he so tall? Where did he get his height from? I looked up at him as he let go.

"Really? Because you seem to think you know exactly who I am." His voice was low and it rumbled through his throat.

My lips pressed together. My heart was burning in my chest, pounding like ocean waves in my ears.

"Please. I don't want this. I don't know you, and I don't know what you want from me." It was embarrassing because I actually choked up, "But I just want to go to sleep. And I want you to stop haunting my dreams. Please. Please, I'm begging you. Whatever you are--you lizard demon-- just leave me alone."

Tears streamed down my cheeks. Streamed, of course, is a more graceful word to describe it, and it was anything but graceful. They were pools of tears. My face was soaked, my makeup was no doubt running, the boning in my gown was drenched with sweat and tears and mascara lines. My thighs were chafing from how he'd made me feel in the vision.

He grabbed my arms, and I sobbed, "Hey, I'm sorry. Okay?" He cleared his throat, and half-assed a sympathetic stroke with his fingers. "I-I don't know what you're talking about. What dreams?"

And had I been more delusional, had I been more drunk, had I been more sleep-deprived than I already was, I might've believed the innocence he'd feigned. But it was the way he'd said it...

Like he wanted me to believe it. Like he was so sure that I would believe it, that he didn't have to try too hard to get me to.

I cried harder and pulled free from him. My desperation for sleep and freedom was replaced by something else, though I tried not to show it. Because I knew now... I wasn't crazy.

The boy standing in front of me, looking down at me with what he tried to portray as a semblance of support, was actually...

He was seriously...

He was exactly what I'd been too afraid to admit he was...

He was the monster in my dreams. He'd seen the vision. Why else would he be here now?

My heart raced with something else now. Horror, fear, realization. I wiped my cheeks and hiccuped and took a step back.

"I-I'm sorry... I'm very drunk. And tired.. Um..." I took another step back, nearly stumbled because of my heels, but I managed to catch myself as he reached out for me, "Sorry about all... This..." I gestured at myself, and shock was all in his face. In his gaping mouth, in the sweat gathered in his hair, in the twitch in his fingers, in the pallor of his skin.

When I ran this time, he didn't follow. I was home in no time and I locked my door, locked my windows, pulled down the blinds, and buried myself in my blankets, listening out for any suspicious sounds, and forbidding myself to fall asleep.

I didn't want to see how the dream would change now that I knew he was real. Now that the lizard monster that was haunting me... Was real... And he'd found me.

Previous Part -> (3)

Next Part -> (5)

The BEGINNING -> (1)

[indie-bard-maiden]

Black Crescent Bay

(my NOVEL on wattpad, not to be confused with the short story in my short story collection 'The Ballad of Hollowfaye'! This is just another siren story that also takes place in my fictional town of Hollowfaye. Different characters but same setting.)

Esmarie Kestrel is a human girl. A normal human girl. She's 21, attends Hollowfaye Community College, and JUST wants to make it to the fashion show at the end of her senior year. She's a seamstress, a designer for her school's Theater, and that's ALL she cares about. Who needs math? But also who needs sleep? ESMARIE DOES! So she'd appreciate it if this siren fishboy who calls himself her mate would stop haunting her dreams and giving her DREADFULLY awful romantic visions of their lives together! And while he's at it, he could TAKE her stupid mermaid tail back because EW!

(3)

a seriously disturbing amount of passionate sex

My feet were aching. Those heels were a mistake. And the corset of this dress was forcing my breasts up to my chin and my lungs in on themselves. The pain of beauty was getting to be a bit much.

It was almost worth it when every now and then a girl from one of my classes would compliment my shoes or my makeup or my hair or, of course, my dress. I would compliment them back on their purse or their freshly-lacquered nails or their drunk singing on the at-home karaoke machine.

It made the pain go away just for an instant. Compliments from drunk women tended to be that powerful. But the pain always returned. And the exhaustion and anxiety came back ten-fold.

I had just about enough of watching Waverly and Heath thrill everyone with their tangoes and waltzes and cha chas. To top it off, she'd taken the rose from her teeth and pressed it behind my ear before he twirled her around and pulled her back into his arms.

It was a dismal night, to be clear.

I took another shot and adjusted my skirt. And tried to whimper to Waverly that I was gone-for and I'd be in my bed, pouring tears into my pillow if she wanted to find me. But it was no use. She couldn't hear me over the karaoke.

And then, I saw something that made me freeze. Or rather someone. He hadn't noticed me yet. But there he stood, leant up against the counter in the kitchen, talking to some guy in my theater class.

The guy. The MONSTER from my dreams. Standing there with his jet-black hair... And not? Green-blue skin? And no mermaid tail? Or globe-like moonstone eyes?

No...

No...

I was drunk.

I was beyond drunk.

The guy was normal-looking and he bore a resemblance to some creature that was haunting me... An uncanny resemblance, but still. I was hallucinating. Oh, god. This night could not get any worse. How ill must I be for him to haunt me in my waking life? For me to see him in an innocent, unsuspecting stranger?

I needed a nap. Or psychiatric help. There were no other options. I was seriously losing it. And to make matters worse, I was staring.

He laughed at something the guy said and turned his head slightly in my direction. And I was far beyond any help at all, beause the monster was all I could see. With his glowing eyes. And his webbed fingers. And his slimy tail where his legs should be.

His eyes met mine.

Something fucking wild and beyond explanation happened.

A hallucination, a moving picture where the party should be. My heart pounded harder in my chest, and I thought I'd for sure hurl as the film rolled. It was us. Our lives together.

There we were in a moonlit-tone, lovingly-rosy vision. He was holding my hands, kissing me hard on the mouth, his tongue moving against mine, his mouth all over me, and an orgasm so intense my fingers clenched by my side and my legs quivered in real life even though I was frozen in place.

And then there was me, on top of him. Pinning him down. His fingers curled around my ass, his mouth all over my breasts as he throbbed under me. He was pulsing with pleasure, his heartbeat pounding through his skin, just under my fingers as I rode him. He finished and his abs and biceps pressed me harder into him as he twitched. He was breathless and whimpering into my skin. But it wasn't the end. The vision only continued as we were trapped in each other's eyes.

There we were under the cold waves, floating beneath the bay, webbed fingers holding webbed fingers. He with a sea-green tail and teal-blue fins. Me with...

Oh my god...

I couldn't force my eyes away, nor would the vomit leave my contracting stomach, but, god, did I want to look away and hurl. Me with a rose red tail and cream fins. It was almost painful to watch. We were in each other's arms, our tails intertwined, my head buried in his chest, the passion between us sickly sweet.

And then there was us, buried in the sand, me watching the sunset, him leaning on his elbow as he played with my hair and smiled down at me. Both naked, with... Legs. Human legs. Still disgustingly intertwined like we couldn't bear to be out of each other's touch for even a second.

We weren't in Black Crescent Bay anymore. We were somewhere far away. And then I saw, I shit you not, a dreaded ring on my finger. His hand was gently placed on my stomach--oh god, my stomach.

Round with...

Please no.

A baby? He kissed my shoulder and whispered sweet-nothings into my ear that were blurry. Thankfully, I couldn't make them out.

I couldn't endure anymore. The vision prevailed, showing us forever. Us growing old. Us still young, having a disgusting amount of passionate sex. Him finishing me with his mouth, his fingers, his dick. It was a length and a thickness that genuinely concerned me, and my cheeks heated up. And then there were more visions of us under the water. Us raising babies. Our wedding. Our funeral. All played out of order, but all with the same moon-lit tone and romantically rosy vision.

And then it was over. Reality faded into view. The karaoke. Waverly and Heath dancing to a new number. Another girl was complimenting me on my outfit. I couldn't hear anything, it was the last sense to return.

We were still trapped within each other's gaze. Wetness was, unfortunately, smearing along my inner thighs, and I knew should've worn panties. At least then I could've ignored the butterflies in my stomach and how the vision had my walls tightening for him.

At least, a version of him. The vision of him that wasn't real--couldn't be real.

His eyes... They were the same moonstone blue. And he was raising both eyebrows at me. Not like he was asking me, "What the fuck are you staring at, you wackjob?" but more like he was saying, "You?"

There seemed to be recognition in his face, but I knew that couldn't be. Nobody saw what I just saw. Not even him. He couldn't have. He couldn't have known about the dreams either.

I knew I was seriously so far beyond help that I'd have to be thrown into a mental hospital. Or... I'd been drugged. There were drugs in the rum and the shots and the cigarettes and I was seriously, incomprehensibly losing it.

I turned to leave. I could barely walk in the heels, but I ran anyway. I had to get home. I had to rest. My brain was malfunctioning. I needed help that only a good night's rest could supply.

I didn't expect to be followed.

Previous Part -> (2)

Next Part -> (4)

The BEGINNING -> (1)

[indie-bard-maiden]

Black Crescent Bay

(my NOVEL on wattpad, not to be confused with the short story in my short story collection 'The Ballad of Hollowfaye'! This is just another siren story that also takes place in my fictional town of Hollowfaye. Different characters but same setting.)

Esmarie Kestrel is a human girl. A normal human girl. She's 21, attends Hollowfaye Community College, and JUST wants to make it to the fashion show at the end of her senior year. She's a seamstress, a designer for her school's Theater, and that's ALL she cares about. Who needs math? But also who needs sleep? ESMARIE DOES! So she'd appreciate it if this siren fishboy who calls himself her mate would stop haunting her dreams and giving her DREADFULLY awful romantic visions of their lives together! And while he's at it, he could TAKE her stupid mermaid tail back because EW!

(2)

a party

My best friend is an old lady named Waverly Adler, and her best friend is a middle-aged man named Heath Merrick. Waverly's been divorced twice and made it out, luckily, without any children to waste her life raising. Her second husband did have three children of his own, and she was happy to never see any of them ever again. She moved to Hollowfaye when she was 68, ready to start her life over and go to college, determined to make something of herself.

Heath was an ex-con, ex-drug dealer who'd lost everything including his husband and their five adopted children when they moved to a place only reachable by goblin tolls and portal-circles made of mushrooms and flora.

I figured he was still micro-dosing whatever drugs he used to do when he explained his sad life story. It wasn't far off. Plenty of people in Hollowfaye had issues dealing with reality.

On the third day that I was too exhausted and anxiety-ridden to endure any of our lectures, Waverly stopped by my apartment with a carton of cigarettes and a bottle of rum.

"Get dressed," she demanded, and gasped when she saw the ghastly circles under my eyes, "And clean your face up, girl. You're gonna scare everyone away." She pushed past me and inspected my disatrous humble abode with a scoff. "Goodness me, what have you been doing in here?"

I tried to shut the door, but Heath stopped it with his beer belly. He shoved his way through with a smile which quickly fell when he saw me and my surroundings.

"What happened here?"

"Homework," I muttered, and moved stray fabrics from one side of the floor to the other side with the tip of my toe.

They both tsk'ed me. "Well... We're going to a party." Heath looked at Waverly, "You did tell her that we're going to a party, right?"

Waverly gestured at me before sitting down on the velvet sea-blue sofabed. She set the rum in the cup holder and pulled out a cigarette and placed it saltily between her lips.

"I did, but she won't listen to me."

It was only then that I registered their outfits. Heath was in a powder blue tux from the seventies with a ruffled black button-up and a fuschia bow tie, Waverly was in a neon chartreuse-sequin formal gown that looked like it belonged in 'Gentlemen Prefer Blondes' or  'The Divorcee'. I couldn't even form a comment before Heath was ushering me into the bathroom. He sat me down on the toilet and got to work beating color into my face and beating the color out of my bags.

He didn't touch my hair. Well, he did. Just curled some of the tresses around his fingers with a smile before he said, "We'll leave this be. It really frames your face."

"Thanks... But I cannot go to a party tonight. I'm distressed. And overwhelmed. And I'll just ruin the night for both of you."

He scoffed, "Please," he lined my lips with a jewel-tone plum liner, "you don't possess the skills to ruin my night." As he was glossing on a blood-red lipstick over the plum color, he shouted to Waverly, "Doll, find her an outfit and some shoes!"

There was rustling in my bedroom and then the sound of shoes being thrown across the floor and drawers being pulled open and slammed shut. I was scared of what I'd find when the door opened. But then there was Waverly with a wide smile and the chiffon sage green and slate gray dress I only just finished the night before.

"This is just gorgeous. You have to wear it tonight."

I blushed, "Thanks. You should've seen how long I struggled with the boning of the corset."

She looked down at it and held it up to her chest, staring at herself in the mirror and adjusting the red in her otherwise white hair. "This will just work wonders on your bust, won't it?"

I blushed harder. This time out of embarrassment. I hadn't done that intentionally in the design, but the corset did create a look that was nothing short of a miracle on my flat chest. It gave the illusion that there was something there worth grabbing. The asymmetrical waterfall skirt, however, was intentional, and it made my buns look like the finest in the bakery.

It wasn't my proudest creation, but it was up there.

I was almost excited to wear it, and then Waverly pulled out the vibrant red thong she'd paired it with. My smile fell at once.

"What? Just in case,"

I shook my head, but Heath held me still as he finished sculpting my eyebrows, "I never wear that."

"Never say never. Besides you might find yourself a handsome beau tonight, and you'll be quite disappointed in yourself if you decide to wear your granny-panties instead."

"Listen to that one, Sweetheart," he gestured at her with the tip of the makeup brush, "she knows allllll about granny-panties, don't you, hun?"

Waverly let out a hmph and dropped the red-violet wrap-up chunky heels on the ground, "A lady never reveals her age."

She had. Literally the first day we met. She was 69 next spring.

It took only a few more minutes for Heath to add the finishing touches to my face. A touch of highlight on the tip of my nose, some sparkly setting spray, and a spritz of Chanel No. 5 on either side of my neck and behind my ears.

"Gorgeous! Now let's get you dressed."

I stopped them as they both reached for me, "I'm quite capable of doing it myself, thanks." I put it all on in a flash, forboding the thong, and opting to just let my cheeks hang free. It would at least rid me of a burdensome panty-line around my hips.

"Where is this party anyway?" I asked as we were leaving.

Heath explained it was some celebratory thing to cheer on the one of our sports teams. He forgot which one, and we all figured it was unimportant anyway. We all thought sports were for people who WEREN'T us. Waverly grabbed the rum and the cigarettes on her way out, and we pre-gamed on our way to the New England, eggshell yellow colonial-house where there was nowhere to park and barely anywhere to stand.

Previous Part -> (1)

Next Part -> (3)

[wolfhoundwitch]

brigid — celtic goddess of healing, smithing, poetry, fertility, divination, fire and water.

brigid bless this hearth and home, keep us safe from harm. no matter how far we might roam, guide us safe and sound. heal me with your sacred water, shield me with your flame. your love is my sword and shield and so it shall remain.

[sierrawitch]

Table of Contents

Welcome to my little corner of the internet. I am autumn sierra, a Goidelic (Celtic) and Eclectic Folk Magick practitioner. Here you’ll find my musings and recordings of my practice and its many facets—including history, geography, language, culture, etc. Please stay a while 🌿

Academic Articles

Menstrual Magick: The Goddess Within

Master Posts

Ogham Master Post

Celtic History & Culture

Celtic Customs: Hair

Mallacht, Géisa, Piseógs, Sugáns & Bulláns: Superstition & Cursing

Scottish Saining

What is “Celtic”?

Sacred Animals & Their Correspondances

Intuitive Magick

Rebirth Shower

Healing Doll

Journal Entries

Visualization for the Clairvoyantly Impaired

Manifestation of the Spoken Word

On Religious Guilt

On Consistency

Polls

“Baby Witch”

[thefugitivesaint]

Stephen Reid (1873-1948), ''Cuchulain: The Hound of Ulster'' by Eleanor Hull, 1911 Source

[thebellekeys]

World Mythology: Fey, Faeries, and Fairfolk

“Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind, run on the top of the disheveled tide, and dance upon the mountains like a flame.”

- adapted from The Land of Heart's Desire by William Butler Yeats

[camelidae]

Oh yes, it’s very cute to put your witch hat on your familiar for a quick pic, but the next thing you know the residual magic has raised him to full sentience and now he’s going into business on his own, stealing your hat and your best customers.