High Warlock of Los Angeles

wxtch-bxtch-shxt:

If this ain’t me

fernandothefox:

Sex is cool and all but have you tried conspiracy theories? Have you tried cryptids?

The unknown calls for you and your out here, dick out, a slave to your organs.

The body you inhabit is yours to control, not the other way around, go out and hunt down some freaks of nature! Get wild in the words as ypu summon demons! Make potions to throw! Curse your enemies! Find some spooky scary skeletons! Boo the ghostie bois!!

Get out there and capture a cryptid!

paintsmcspectrum:

battered-and-bruised-heart:

paintsmcspectrum:

paintsmcspectrum:

feanor-the-dragon:

paintsmcspectrum:

SO I’M GONNA TELL YOU A STORY OF WHAT HAPPENED TO ME TODAY because I think I accidentally made friends with a benevolent trickster god/fey animal/werewolf???

backstory: I have been afraid of dogs since I was in first grade and two of my classmates both independently got hospitalized for dog bite injuries within a week of each other. ever since, I have been attempting to get over this fear. it’s going pretty solid lately. it helps that at my bus stop, there’s a large and fenced in property with a dog that is afraid of humans. he’s a gorgeous german shepherd?? who I have taken a few sneaky photos of and always manages to look angelic.

so this pup is scared of humans and I’m scared of dogs. but for months we see each other every day. and we nudge closer and closer. and one day I’m feeling brave and pick up a stick and hold it out to the fence and this good good doggo gennnntly takes it between his teeth and runs off with it. since then it’s been a game we play every day and this buddy’s tail starts wagging when I come down the street towards the bus stop and frankly it adds life to these brittle old bones of mine.

today however was the reckoning… I was a bit distracted by school stress when I came down the street, and so I take a moment for myself and when I look back up, the puppy is GONE. I look around the yard, seeing if he’s behind a tree, then see him leaving the yard and merrily skipping down the sidewalk, where he suddenly stops. I ask my group chat for advice.

trick question by the time the answer comes I’m already walkin towards him. he’s sitting still, tail wagging. right in front of him on the ground, with no one in sight? a $20 bill. 

I slooowly bend down and pick up the money and a nearby stick. put the money in my pocket. put the stick out to my doggo friend who gently takes it as always. and then awkwardly I kinda “well, thanks for the money! you should get home now, my bus is coming and your person won’t like you being out of the yard.”

and just like that. the dog just trots back to the yard happy as a clam and slips in through the gaping wide bars of the fence. meanwhile, three high schoolers on the way to school are staring at me and laughing but like. okay what am I supposed to do, not thank this blessing dog. I actually tell him thanks once again for good measure before the bus comes.

so basically my fear of at least one dog is cured, my curiosity is piqued (coincidence? maybe. smart dog? perhaps. but this is the same city I got cursed in and the same city I wandered into a fey subway sandwich shop in so), and I got 20 bucks. so reblog for money dog? I guess?

Waitwaitwait… can I hear about that fey subway sandwich shop, please?

okay okay so a little under a year ago now I was craving a sandwich. I went to my normal downtown subway, but it turned out it was buy one get one free day so it was crowded. after some thought, I remembered that there was another subway almost exactly across the street. same franchise, different location, very close to the one I go to and yet I’d never been. I decide to go see if it’s as swamped as my normal one.

I walk in and it’s as good as dead. there’s two people in line in front of me, four people behind the counter, and two employees wandering the store. it’s gorgeous. clean as anything. a fireplace with a burning fire (nice as it’s the dead of winter in pennsylvania at this point), and smooth jazz playing softly on the speakers. it’s huge. there are armchairs. the windows have curtains and a lovely view of downtown. it’s immediately the kind of place you could stay forever but I have a bus to catch in like half an hour so I walk up and get in line.

as I do, I see the first two behind the counter employees. one looks dead. one looks angry. the dead one… and I call her this because she literally looks zombified. not normal min wage worker dead but like her brain was removed dead… asks what she can get for me and I place my normal order. it begins to go down the line. it gets to the second person, the angry one, who says with the most INTENSE STARE to Dead Eyed Girl, “if we all had to come in and we don’t get busy, I’m burning down the city.”

Dead Eyed Girl, eyes still dead, says “Except for this store, of course.”

“Of course not, we can’t burn down this store.”

Dead Eyed Girl literally echoes “We can’t burn down this store.”

this is when I start to go from curious to a little freaked out. angry one takes my subs out of the toaster and begins to put veggies on it, then shoves it over to the person at the register who is, according to the logs I looked up to make sure I remember this accurately, remarkable for one reason…  I was paying attention to EVERYTHING and yet I can’t remember what they looked like at all. I pay and I get my sandwiches and my drink cup and go to fill my drink up.

standing near the drink machine at this point are two more terrified looking employees who are talking quietly to themselves. I fill my cup up with sprite and am about to put a lid on it when one says “oh. that machine… doesn’t work.” note: at this point I have the drink already and it looks and smells right. “here, let me go replace that for you. don’t drink that! one second!”

he looks TERRIFIED as he goes to the cooler and pulls out three bottles of sprite and looks TERRIFIED as he holds them out to me asking, terrified, “here, is that enough?”

and so I just “yeah… thank you?” as he takes my cup and gives me the bottles. it’s more sprite than I paid for.

I sit down as far from the counter as I can and begin to eat. my first toasted sandwich? cold. according to my phone I’ve been in here for five minutes only. I didn’t see the customers who were in here when I entered leave. nobody else has come in. I’d planned to get out my laptop and wait here out of the cold for the bus, but even as I eat the sandwich time seems slow so I just devour it and leave. it’s not even been ten minutes since I came in. just take my second (cold) sandwich and my bottles of sprite and book it.

and I ask around about this subway. everyone I know says it’s perfectly normal and they’ve been there several times and it’s fine! and sure enough when I work up the courage to go back in two weeks later, the fireplace is not operational (in fact it’s blocked off), the music is staticky and pop, there’s no armchairs, and it’s not very clean at all. is there a possibility they cleaned it up for the event and redecorated in two weeks? yes. is it more likely that I wandered into the fey realm for a bit? perhaps.

I didn’t drink the sprite I didn’t pay for.

pandamusumeheart replied to your post:

op tell us about the curse

OKAY SO in September 2015, about a month after I moved to my city, I heard for the first time about a large festival every year that celebrates the huge river my city sits on (we’re talking a river with fairly big islands sort of huge. by fairly big islands I mean one houses our city baseball field, soccer field, a few rides, the docks, an arcade, etc. Kind of a mixture of a city park and an amusement park). This festival is a little bit of everything, but when people described that they failed to gloss over the fact that “a little bit of everything” means not just “crafters, food vendors, musicians, stunt acts, eating competitions, and games” but also “people selling magic stuff.”

So here I am. Newish to the city, a gemstone lover (that’s important), and first time at this festival. I’ve wandered around the city shore and cross the bridge to the part of the festival on the island and find a lovely booth with TONS of gemstones, alongside some witchcraft supplies. I pick out a few I want to get before I see the sign that says “cash only.” I have no cash on me. The woman running the stand sees me looking sad at that and suggests I can take the stones now and send her the cash in the mail, that she trusts that I’ll definitely send the money. Everyone does.

I politely decline because there is something weird about that.

BUT it’s not weird enough for me to return to the booth once I stick my hand in my pocket and oddly enough, find one dollar, which is exactly enough for a small chunk of my favorite gemstone, amethyst. I carefully pick one out and go back up to the woman with the dollar in my hand. She looks at me. Looks at the stone. Looks at me. Looks at the stone. Looks at me. “That stone resonates with you in a very special way. Take it for free,” she says. 

“Are you sure? Look, I have a dollar,” I offer, and hold it out.

“I can’t accept payment for this one. It’s calling out for you. Here, let me see it.”

I hand the stone over and she nods and holds it for a moment, almost weighing it before giving it back. “Keep it with you, and I’m sure you’ll have wonderful luck, she says. I thank her and leave with the gem and the dollar. When I get home, I stick the gemstone in my schoolbag. 

I proceed to have the worst month of my life. I’m talking illness in the family, not doing well in classes no matter how hard I work, financial aid won’t go through which threatens my education, can’t get a job, and get lost in the city several times. One day, about five weeks later, I’m cleaning out my backpack and see the stone. Worthless. It did nothing. I think about throwing it out, or at least shoving it in my normal gemstone collection, but end up slipping it in my pocket. 

Immediately, my luck changes. I get calls that my relatives are well, my financial aid goes through and opens me up for a job on campus, and I ace a test. This all happens within 48 hours of putting the stone in my pocket. After some tests, I realize if I carry the stone on my person I do indeed have wonderful luck, but if it’s not in my pocket or my hand, I have miserable luck. I get to taking it everywhere, which is a real odd thing for me considering I wasn’t even superstitious until That Time A Ghost Tried To Kill Me a couple years before (and if three stories isn’t enough for you, ask about THAT one). 

Since it’s always on my person, I take to playing with it. Gently rolling it in my hand, or tossing it up and down and catching it. It’s doing that sort of thing on a snowy day the following February when I drop the stone on my very hard kitchen stone and it cracks and chips. After that, the curse?? blessing?? curseblessing??? stops. I literally broke the curse. My luck returns to normal whether I have it with me or not. An anticlimactic ending, perhaps, but that’s how life is, I guess.

OH EXCEPT TO SAY… I went back to the festival last September and ended up at this lovely little gemstone booth. This time, I had cash on me. I picked out a cute little amethyst worry stone and went up to pay and as I did, I locked eyes with the woman running the stand. “Have you come here before?” she asked. “I remember you, I think.”

I smile even as my blood runs cold. “I may have, it’s been a while if so,” I say calmly. I hand her the money and take the stone and put it in my pocket.

“You have some sort of vibe to you. Amethyst suits you.”

“Thanks!”

She looks at me, frowns, knits her brow, and waves me off, and I go gratefully. A month later, I drop the worry stone and break that one, too. 

OP TELL US ABOUT THE GHOST

Alrighty then time for what is without a doubt my scariest magical encounter and also my first noticeable one. All the backstory you need for this one is one, that at the time I was eighteen years old in my senior year of high school and living with my mom (who worked a lot), then-stepdad, and three of my brothers in a fairly large city in Georgia. Two, there’s legends… maybe not legends as they’re too close to me to be legends… that both sides of my family are highly spirit sensitive and many of them can see ghosts. As a younger person, I never believed that in the slightest and thought it was bullshit, because I’ve always been very spirit blind in a family where that’s downright unusual (and before you make references to certain Stiefvater novels, I’ve heard them all already).

My family had moved to Georgia about a year before so my stepdad could be closer to his family and so my mom’s health might improve due to the nicer weather. We were originally in a different apartment, but that one actually started falling down the hill it was built on, so we were moved into another building in the same complex. It was a surprising adjustment. This new building had flooding issues and it also just felt damn weird, but it was better than, yknow, a building falling down a hill, so we dealt with it. We even dealt with it when I would walk in the kitchen and loaves of bread and boxes of cereal would fall on my head. Huh, I decided, I must be a heavy walker, or else this apartment is ALSO falling down a hill and is a little bit tilted.

And then the books started also falling when I walked past one of the many bookshelves in the home. I had a sore head almost constantly and began to avoid the bookshelves (believe me, I was tearing through the school library anyway, rereading things I’d already read could wait). I wrote it off again.

One night, I was in my room writing… I feel like it must have been November, because NaNoWriMo is the only reason I would have to lock myself in my room and write for hours. My stepdad knocked on the door and when I told him to come in, he asked why I was knocking around in the laundry room so late at night. I told him I’d only been writing and offered to show him my progress as proof, but he swore there was a woman in there and my mother was asleep, so who else could it be? After a few moments of a standoff and us realizing it didn’t really matter, he left, and I resumed my writing.

About a month after that, I was sleeping when I woke up to something distinctly like the smell and sound of popcorn popping. I look up and my lamp (which was off because, yknow, sleeping) is on fire. Legitimate sparking and flames fire. So I do what every kindergartener is taught and I run through the halls of my apartment saying “GET UP EVERYONE THERE’S A FIRE IN MY ROOM” and my mom and stepdad rush towards the fire. As soon as my stepdad steps in, the fire flickers, sputters, and dies. I’m told to go toss the lamp in the dumpster and go back to bed. Faulty wiring. Okay.

About two weeks after THAT, I am leaving my room when the window falls out and onto my bed. I’m talking glass panes, frames, the entire window. Okay, faulty building. Same apartment complex where a building fell down a hill, remember? We call maintenance and they fix it. We double check the work because goddamn if they didn’t say they fixed the dishwasher only to have it break again, so. This is truly, really fixed, however.

Except three days later, I’m sitting on my bed when I hear an insistent voice and feel a tug on my arm. “Get up. NOW.” Instinctively, I stand and move away from my bed. Just in time for the window to again fall and this time shatter, the heavy glass landing all around my bed and my room. I’m only just out of range. It hits me that this would have killed me if I didn’t get up at the second I did.

So at this point, I start freaking out and I call my best friend at the time, who happens to be a self-professed witch. I’m crying and freaking out and she talks me through how to purify spaces. I use a whole big round cylinder thing of kitchen salt. And the thing is? It seems to work. Everything stops. I sleep on the couch for a week because I’m scared and want to be sure, but everything is back to normal, and the worst part is that I’m completely out of excuses for what has happened.

About four months after this purification, the bread starts falling on me again. At this point, however, the flooding has gotten Too Much and we’ve been told we’re being moved once again. At the new apartment, nothing happens. It feels safe.

There’s two epilogues to this one. The first one is in talking to my mother a few months later. “There was definitely something in that apartment. I saw her standing at the foot of my bed, and she threw things at me, too. I didn’t know she was haunting you as well. I didn’t want to scare you.”

The second one is in talking to my grandmother a few years later, after moving to PA. “Of course that place was haunted!” she said. “Ghosts feed on energy. Teenage energy. Electronic energy. Your apartment had plenty, with three teenagers and all that modern technology. Was it near a stream, you say, they like water, too…”

“Oh god. The flooding.”

“There was flooding? You’re lucky you’re alive.”

“Boy, do I know it.”

And basically that’s how I kind of got over myself and realized my family wasn’t as weird as I thought and also how a ghost almost succeeded in ending me. And I think that’s my last story about magic, unless you want to hear about how I accidentally joined a coven of witches, how one of my professors is a dreamwalker, or the time my church decided I was possessed, but like, all of those are short and basically exactly what they sound like.

winedarkodyssea:

*drunkenly pours vodka in the ground for Hades and Persephone* get lit y'all

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