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witchkingfromthe1600s · 1 year

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Pinned post time :]

Side blog mostly meant for my Defanged Philip AU but may also consist of canon owl house doodles i guess hah

Some AU things:

Basic run down of the AU is here but feel free to go through the tag itself

AU ocs:

Koda Grimoire is an oc that eventually gets it on with Philip

Delilah is Philip's palisman, they're a cryptid.

Mushroom is Koda's palisman, they're mostly a possum.

Post of HC for characters in this AU (some of them are canon anyway but still there):

Main hc post - it's an instagram post cause i'm lazy to repost [part 1 + part 2]

Hunter tries to tell Belos he's gay comic

Caleb being an egg doodles

References for characters:

Koda and his Grimoire form + Philip and his disguise

Philip's stabilized curse form [also known as 'False Titan Philip'

Not a Philip apologist, he deserved what he got lol. I just think he's an interesting creature.

#yea that should be all #will update when things get created

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gartenofbanny · 1 year

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Another plot hole that I had found out not too long ago is that if Stolas was aware of a spell inside of the Grimoire that can give IMP human disguises then why the hell didn't he cast it in Season 1?

The entire issue with IMP in Truth Seekers was that they were caught by the DHORKS Agency and exposed as demons. In that same episode, Stolas scolded them for not being careful and for being caught by Agents 1&2. Stolas had no right to scold them because if he had given Millie, Moxxie, and Blitzo human disguises in the first place then they wouldn't have been caught by Agents 1&2.

If Stolas gave them all human disguises then they would've been caught by DHORKS and regular humans would just assume that they're humans and not leprechauns or possums.

#helluva boss #helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss criticism #helluva critical #vivziepop

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this-possum-cries · 1 year

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Candle Magic:

(Here is all the knowledge I have gathered about choosing a wand. I hope it serves you well!)

Candle scents: spiritofautumn

Candles (color & purpose): wwhomeopath

Some candle color meanings

~~~

Why Candle Magick is so Powerful: cottagefaeriewitch

~~~

Reading Flames: the-clumsywitch

~~~

Safe Travels Protection Candle: coldbrewtarot

Making Candles: triciamfoster

Return to Possum's Grimoire

#witchblr #grimoire #witchtips #witchyvibes #witchcraft #witchythings #witch resource #witch resources #baby witch tips #baby witches

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resha04 · 1 month

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The 5+1 games I play to get cozy

When the world feels too much and the days feel too fast and tiring, cozy games are (one of) the balm for the soul.

I personally love cozy games with medium-long length, and that have an underlying plot going on, even though it's just traveling the world to take photos. Here, I'll share 5 + 1 of such games, which are my favorite as of April 2024:

TOEM

You grew up listening to your Nana tell you about the legendary TOEM. Now, armed with a camera, a backpack, and your beloved old pocket radio, you go out into the world to find TOEM and take a picture of it (as well as snapping as many photos as possible along the way).

Cute, charming, and very, very cozy, I deliberately took my time playing it because I wanted the experience to last. (Also, when I couldn't progress past a certain point, the dev team was very kind to fix the issue – even though they've moved on to making another game.) It has quirky, adorable characters with quirky, adorable problems you got to help solve, and a variety of animals you can pet (my favorite is the monkey).

Night in the Woods

College dropout Mae Borrowski went home to find her dying hometown still as lovely in autumn as it's always been, but with something sinister lurking in the shadow.

Despite how I made it sound, this game is still very cozy. As Mae, you spend your days visiting your old friends, listening in to the townspeople's convo, stargazing with your old teacher, and visiting your mom at church, among a few, with the stunning background of Possum Spring in autumn. And don't forget the soundtrack!

Wytchwood

"Once upon a time, there lived an odd witch in an odd little house, at an odd little swamp."

You woke up, found a goat have munched through your grimoire, and discovered that you've made a deal with the aforementioned goat – a deal that you can't remember. Go out into the world, craft potions and items, and vanquish 12 great evils while being snarky about it.

As you can see in the picture, Wytchwood has amazing visual. The writing is witty and funny, it has an entertaining cast of characters and fun gameplay, and the music just immerses you more in its world.

Walking on A Star Unknown

(Screenshot by vgperson)

A pair of siblings, Fukurou and Eddie, were traveling the galaxy to fulfill their late mother's wish when they crash-landed on a foreign planet. The planet happened to be hosting a cooking festival, and the winner will get one wish granted by the Goddess. So what else is there to be done except participating and aiming for the win? If you happen to make friends and learn the planet's dark history along the way, it can't be helped, can it?

This is an old game but it has such a special place in my heart even after years. It's wholesome, relaxed, has a ton of fun side-quests and lovable npcs, funny writing, and a touch of dark – a perfect mix of my favorite things. Segawa (the creator) never failed to immerse me in their small but charming world. And I'm usually not fond of too much side-quests, but Segawa's is an exception: the side-quests involve the npcs, and I love the npcs.

You can find it here. Vgperson did an amazing job translating it and its pun-ny writing.

Farethere City

(Screenshot by vgperson)

Pigula, a little boy(?) with one eye, has always dreamed to open a general store. So when he moved to Farethere City, the first thing he did was looking for a vacant building to open his shop. And it just happened that there was one, in the downtown, which happened to be on sale at such bargain price! Nothing is suspicious whatsoever!

Again, despite my description, this is a relaxed, low-tension game. Another of Segawa's game, and also one that has a special spot in my heart. The dark tone is more prominent than Star Unknown, and it's arguably more horror than cozy game, but I still find it very comforting. It's wholesome – sometimes bittersweet, it has a cast of lovable characters, and it has enough mystery to hook you and keep you playing.

You can find it here. My enormous gratitude to vgperson for translating these games, and translating it with apparent love.

(+1) Melon Journey

(Screenshot from the game page)

You woke up after a stormy night, and couldn't find your friend. So you embarked on a journey to find him/her.

It's been a while since I played this game, and I haven't replayed it again, but I remember how much fun I had playing it and how I was a little disappointed that it ended so soon. Melon Journey is shorter than the other five, but it's very charming and very deserving of a place in the cozy games list. The visual is pleasant to look at, and I love the characters and their little – sometimes lovingly silly – problems, which we have to solve if we want them to give us info.

You can find the free ver here. There's a longer, paid version in Steam titled Melon Journey: Bittersweet Memories :)

#cozy games #indie games #toem game #wytchwood #night in the woods #walking on a star unknown #farethere city #segawa's games #melon journey #resha writes

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homo-adaptionem · 4 months

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Looking for blogs to follow that majoratively post content relating to one or more of the following:

DIY, especially alt/punk/goth/emo/witchy DIY

Alt fashion, esp. goth (trad/romantic/mall/casual/90s/2000s)/punk/emo/scene/strega, &/or battlejackets)

Alt decor

Kandi

Thrift hauls

Dumpster diving & hauls

Clearance hauls

Dollar store hauls (bonus points if they're Canadian dollar stores!!!)

Library & bookstore hauls

Arthropods, insects, & arachnids

Possums!!! Raccoons!!!

Eclectic witchcraft, pref. agnostic/atheistic & non-Wiccan, but I don't mind. Just don't rule of 3 me, 'kay? I like seeing altars & grimoires ("book of shadows" etc.)

Struggle & poverty life, tips, recipes, etc. (cuz we are a poor bitch)

Self care kits (even kin, I don't mind)

Monster High (all gens)

Alt aesthetics (punk, goth, emo, witchy, etc.)

Cryptids, the paranormal, supernatural stuff, occultism

Secularism (but not so much anti-religion or 14-year-old-asshole-atheist stuff, just separation of church & state. I don't mind critique & debunk of different religions, but putting people down simply for believing in deities/spirits/etc. isn't what I want to see)

You can read my about (pinned post) to learn more about me & what I post. I don't expect follow backs, I just want consistent content lol

Shoot me an ask if your blog posts these things, but be prepared for potential like/reblog spam if I end up liking our blog lol

(OP is an adult whose pronouns are they/them)

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mossdaggar · 1 year

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HELLWHALERS acknowledgements scrap and spare thoughts.

Was thinking a bit about HELLWHALERS, and started writing a bit, but then realized this is more suitable to a blog post than the book itself. Here are my scrapped 'acknowledgements' from HELLWHALERS' first draft. "HELLWHALERS is an extrapolation and indirect descendent of the Belonging Outside Belonging system, a token-based TTRPG framework designed to tell stories of outsiders creating their own semblance of community apart from that of the status quo. HELLWHALERS comes from the DNA of those games, but has some other influences as well, and to call it a true BOB game would be inaccurate. In truth, the system itself takes inspiration from a lot of sources: Sleepaway (Possum Creek Games), Mork Borg (Free League Publishing), Necronautilus (World Champ Game Co.), and countless other pieces of design influence along the way. Thematically, HELLWHALERS is largely a product of my religious upbringing and fear of the ocean. Although games like Pelogos (Basil Wright), Bottled Sea (Games Omnivorous), and Bones Deep (Technical Grimoire Games) have played a part as well." That's the scrap of what I had. But while I'm here, let's dump a bit of freeform thought out. There is a deeply sinister bend to HELLWHALERS' approach to its religious themes, and I want to take a moment to talk about that. While I am personally rather ambivalent about religion these days, HELLWHALERS is really my exercise in addressing the burdens and traumas that Christianity heaped upon me as a queer person. There are a number of themes across the book, and few of them are coincidental. There's a lot of subtext here. I'm sure I'll dive into some of it in the future, but this is a fairly vulnerable piece of art for me. Definitely more so than my previous work. HELLWHALERS is coming this year, although it's still too early to pin a date to it. It's looking to be around 50-60 pages at the moment, and I hope you'll all be ready for it.

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg

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pushpinpossumwitchcraft · 2 years

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420 Friendly Witch Tips

Just so you know, I’m of age in a state where weed is legal. If you’re not in a legal area or age range, I wouldn’t recommend this. And it’s not for everyone! If you’re not interested that’s more than okay! It’s YOUR craft for a reason! I’ve just tailored mine to me a little bit here too.

I smoke on a pretty regular basis, both recreationally and for things such as anxiety and other mental health reasons. I’ve realized that there are a lot of reasons it has such a calming effect. It could be breath work, could be visual stimulation from the smoke swirls, it could be that it’s easier to let my thoughts come and go without lingering on them. Either way, I realized that I could incorporate that zen into my craft. Here are some of the ways I do that!

1. Moon water in your bong

2. smoke cleansing your space/crystals,etc

3.Visualizing internal cleansing as you inhale and exhale

4. Add intent to each hit. After all, you’re taking a deep breath, why not focus your energy on something you’d like to come to fruition? I manifest a clear, level head.

5. I haven’t quite worked with deities yet, but I’ve seen many others say that sharing or dedicating a bowl to your deities can be something they like, depending on who you work with. I don’t know much about deities, so I’ll stop here.

6. Ashes. Weed ashes can be used in spellwork, similar to incense ash and other forms.

7. I personally like to smoke a little, meditate for a moment, and then do a couple of tarot readings. I find I’m more open when I smoke

8. In reference to number 7, I also bought a smoke blend meant to be mixed with weed (or tobacco but that’s not my vibe), that has things like mugwort, lavender, valerian, and more that’s specifically used to help open the third eye and your senses. I bought through the company called Bear Blend (not a sponsor, I honestly don’t think they know I exist). I chose this brand since it’s a small indigenous run business, and as a small town native person, I tend to support as many indigenous businesses I can.

I hope this was helpful, and remember to please make wise decisions based on the laws in your area. I don’t recommend this to anyone underage or in a place where it is illegal. If you choose to make an unwise decision, please don’t hold me liable. And again, if its not your cup of tea, don’t worry about it! Your craft is for you to enjoy.

#weed witch #witch tips #baby witch #beginner witch #energy work #intent #tarot #smoke cleansing #moon water #possum's grimoire #grimoire #meditation #third eye

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midwestgrimoire · 3 years

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The Song of the Jellicles

Jellicle Cats come out to-night

Jellicle Cats come one come all: The Jellicle Moon is shining bright—

Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball.

Jellicle Cats are black and white,

Jellicle Cats are rather small;

Jellicle Cats are merry and bright,

And pleasant to hear when they caterwaul.

Jellicle Cats have cheerful faces,

Jellicle Cats have bright black eyes;

They like to practise their airs and graces

And wait for the Jellicle Moon to rise.

Jellicle Cats develop slowly,

Jellicle Cats are not too big;

Jellicle Cats are roly-poly,

They know how to dance a gavotte and a jig.

Until the Jellicle Moon appears

They make their toilette and take their repose:

Jellicle Cats wash behind their ears,

Jellicle dry between their toes.

Jellicle Cats are white and black,

Jellicle Cats are of moderate size;

Jellicle Cats jump like a jumping-jack,

Jellicle Cats have moonlit eyes.

They're quiet enough in the morning hours,

They're quiet enough in the afternoon,

Reserving their terpsichorean powers

To dance by the light of the Jellicle Moon.

Jellicle Cats are black and white,

Jellicle Cats (as I said) are small;

If it happens to be a stormy night

They will practise a caper or two in the hall.

If it happens the sun is shining bright

You would say they had nothing to do at all:

They are resting and saving themselves to be right

For the Jellicle Moon and the Jellicle Ball.

🌙

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mywitchyremembrances · 7 years

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Beautiful Books Of Shadows, and then there's mine

Like for real. I keep seeing all sorts of pictures of beautiful books of shadows and grimoires and magical diaries. Lots of gorgeous calligraphy. Lovely illuminations. Stunning illustrations. Detailed how-to's.

Then there's mine.

Scrawl on the back of receipts stuffed into whatever notebook happens to be nearby, sometimes hanging out at the bottom of my purse, and otherwise kinda stored on my Tumblr.

I'm such a trash witch and I love it. My animal guide is a possum.

#possum #witch #witchcraft #book of shadows #grimoire #secular witch #trash witch #I am trash #it's me #but really though I love it

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quiet-butterfly1305 · 2 years

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Faerie 🌙🌷

Genre: Fantasy//Fairytale

Chapter 1.1: Beginning: Part 1

A girl named Kael, with very short brunette hair, deep green eyes and a curiosity like no other, who oftentimes would be very bold and other times creative; lived in the depths of the forest, with her only friends being the flowers, mushrooms and the many creatures living out there, some rocks and her solitary existence that was amused by her grandmother’s presence, that was rarely home.

Every morning, Kael would wake up with her messy hair tangled up in flowers, leaves and herbs and a occasional wooden stick. As per usual she would start her diurnal affairs, like opening all windows and doors, go up to her altar and chant some manifestations for her day, light up some candles, cast a few spells and bake one of her recipes, while it baked she would clean the house, prepare a picnic basket, pack some pastries and walk around the forest while she searched for her quiet spot to enjoy herself, pick up fresh fruit and herbs and have breakfast on her own.

The spring season had just begun, and the fresh smell of blooming flowers, morning dew and the bright colors, could be seen everywhere around the forest. Kael woke up from her slumber, and started feeling soft tingles all over her skin, it felt rather strange, after getting up from bed and getting ready for the day with a blue and white dress, knee high brown boots and her cape, she walked downstairs saying good morning to the paintings on the wall, but when she got downstairs, she tripped on a circle formed by many mushroom, after falling and getting back to her senses, she heard a small giggle coming from the kitchen. At first she thought it was an animal, perhaps a possum, but possums don’t laugh, after such realization she decided to hide, It was risky to be noticed now if the one in her kitchen was a human or a Grimoire, carefully, she walked down to the kitchen, and before she got there she grabbed her wand. She glanced at her kitchen and to her surprise there was no human nor Grimoire out there it was a faerie, who was playing around with her utensils and pantry. This fae had dark brown short hair, tanned skin, black eyes, and a mushroom hat that was a little too big for her.

Kael slowly walked behind her and made a glass jar levitate until it was positioned above the fae and In a matter of seconds, she caught her, but to Kael’s surprise the fae had turned into a yellow tiny mushroom. Very confused for a split second she glanced up and got distracted by seeing the mess of a kitchen she had, letting the glass jar loose, and thus the fae tried to scape:

- Where do you even think you are going? Look at this mess you darn—

- Wait wait! Please don’t hurt me!

- What? No… no no, I am not going to hurt you. I just want you to clean up this mess and get away from here!

- But it looks better this way! And I have nowhere to go!

- It doesn’t! And what do you mean by “I have nowhere to go”? You faes always travel in groups and right now you should all be on the flower fields!

- It does! And about that… I lost my clan, and… we can’t go to the flower fields anymore…

- What…?

- The Grimoires has spread like crazy not too far away from here and many of us, as well as other creatures, had to start migrating to the Northern Forest. I was with my group, but I saw you making flowers grow and chatting with the animals… And lost my group afterwards. So I followed you here!

- Oh you need to be kidding me, how can you be so clumsy? And why did you follow me here of all things?! Do you know how dangerous it is?

- I know! But I had nowhere else to go and now I need your help! And you need my help as well!

- How? And why do I need your help?

- I need your help to get to the Northern Forest, that’s where my clan is going all safe and sound, you seem to have powers so it will be an easy job for you! And on my side, you will probably need to leave soon, I saw some hunters exploring the area some days ago, they are coming to get your head so if you come with me you will be safe as well!

- Wouldn’t the “grimoires” eventually get there though? And what if I get hunted down in there as well?

- The northern forest is protected by a barrier, you will be just fine, no humans or hunters can get through. Regarding the Grimoires, surely they will get there, but almost all magical creatures are already there or are close, and when that day comes we will be able to step forward and end this once and for all!

- Do you even know how to get to the northern forest?

- Yes! I think…

- Sigh… let’s just hope we don’t get lost.

- So, are you going?

- I want to help, I’m certainly tired of having to deal with being hidden, and not being able to use my abilities to the fullest, plus I don’t want to get infected by a Grimoire, but I need to ponder about it, this is a really big decision to take. I’ll give you an answer in the morning. For now, are you going to do anything about that mess you left there?

- Hm… How about no?

- Why not?

- It’ll sort itself out. So! I’ll be heading upstairs to rest for a while, you know? Stretch my wings, get my beauty sleep…

- Where do you think you are going? Clean this, now!

- But…!

- I said now! Though if it kills you that much then I’ll help, but you have to cooperate.

- Fine! But can I stay here? At least for the night?

- Sure thing, but don’t make another mess!

- It looks better this way but fine… Wait!

- What now?

- I haven’t introduced myself yet!

- I didn’t really ask-

- I am Blisporella, but you can call me Ella! And you?

- Okay…? I’m not too pleased about our encounter but nice to meet you Ella, I’m Kael. I hope we get along well.

I hope so too!

And so the two new acquaintances stayed part of the night cleaning and organizing while they got to know each other, and later on headed upstairs. Kael let Ella stay in a flowerpot next to her grandmother’s room, and she headed to her own room to meditate about the path that she would take with her decision.

Chapter 1.1: Beginning: Part 1. End

Note from the author: Hello and thank you to everyone who got this far with the first part of the first chapter of Faerie! 🌻

I hope that you truly enjoyed this first part and stick around for the rest of the story! This is my first time writing so I don’t have that much experience with it, but I’m completely open to any advice that everyone would like to give me to make this story better and better as time goes by! I’ll try to upload the chapters once a week. See you in Part 2! 🍄

#creative writing #my writing #writing #fiction #teen writer #aspiring writer #fantasy #fiction writing #fantasy writing #first story

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stones-x-bones · 3 years

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Bare Bones || Morgan and Bex

TIMING: Last weekend PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @inbextween SUMMARY: Bex comes to Morgan’s to see her library collection, but books aren’t the only things that open up. CONTENT: Homophobia mentions, Transphobia mentions, Child/Domestic abuse mentions

Morgan fiddled with the books on the shelf yet again and ran her duster over the spines, the crisp pages, and Squirrely and Possum’s always-friendly faces. “We’ve got this, you guys,” she whispered under her breath. “Bex is going to love you, and the library, and the bones, and maybe we can bullshit some anthropology reasons for her to look at some real magic books, and wait for…” She wasn’t sure what. The weight of the truth to crack her denial open like an egg? For her divine intuition to kick in? Did non pegan spellcasters have divine intuition? She hadn’t met any; she

The doorbell rang, somehow sounding nervous to Morgan despite knowing it was automated.

She gave one last look around the room. She had spread some of the books out and accented empty shelves with some displays from the bone room: some framed fossils, a few skulls she had managed to collect on her own, and an articulated raccoon she and Deirdre had assembled over the course of a weekend in the peaceful days of summer. There was a little of everything, including some magic books she had hauled out of her studio just for Bex to see. It wasn’t exactly a neon light saying ‘something witchy this way comes,’ but it was better than indulging too much in her denial, right?

Right. Totally.

Morgan jogged to the storage closet and chucked the duster inside, not caring if it landed in its bucket or not. She half slid, half ran to the door. She checked her ponytail and the amber pendant Deirdre had given her and opened the door. She wasn’t so image conscious at home, but some of Bex’s excitable energy felt contagious. She wanted to do her best, to make this as okay for her as possible. Smiling warmly, she beckoned the girl inside. “Hey, Bex. Thanks for deciding to come by. Come on in and make yourself cozy, okay? There’s plenty of snacks in the kitchen, if you want any, and tea and coffee, if the cold’s gotten to you on the way over.”

Okay, she could do this. Bex flattened out the front of her skirt as if that would help her calm down, but all it did was make her a little more nervous. She was excited to see Professor Beck, er, Morgan and all that her library had to offer. And the fossils Deirdre had! It was supposed to be a relaxing day, but lunch was also supposed to have been relaxing and easy and that had not turned out well. Bex could only hope nothing would explode today, or if it did, it wouldn’t be her fault. Not that she had any control over it, or that it was, you know, her. She still hadn’t let herself accept that, despite what had happened with Mina and what she’d said to Nell. Magic just couldn’t be real. It had to be something else.

Swallowing, she pushed the doorbell.

It took a moment, and Bex was just rocking back on her heels when the door opened. “Hi, Professor!” she chimed, smiling bright. It was such a reflex now, making herself seem happy, excited, okay, that she couldn’t help it. “Yeah, okay. Um--” she stepped inside after Morgan and looked around, arms still pressed tightly to herself in front of her, clutching her small purse, “--I-I’m okay for now, thank you.” She looked around, eyes tracing over the walls and decor, just like she had when she’d gone to meet Nell for the ice cream they’d never gotten. The house was almost just like Nell’s, except the walls were a brighter color, and the hallways much larger. She understood, now, what Morgan meant by hallways full of empty rooms. Her eyes landed back on the older woman. “Thank you for having me,” she said with a small nod, “I’m excited to see your collection. And, of course, the fossils.” Formal, put together, polite-- all things Bex was sure she wouldn’t be if she had the wherewithal to choose. “Is Deirdre home?”

“Oh, please, I’m happy to,” Morgan replied. “Deirdre’s at work right now, but she finishes in a couple of hours, if you want to meet her in person. Go ahead and throw your stuff wherever, and I’ll show you where everything is!” She flexed her fingers, fighting the urge to take the girl's hand to make sure she didn’t get lost, and settled for waiting in the entryway off the foyer. “The kitchen is just off to the right and through here is the great room where we spend most of our time. If you’re cold, I can get the heat or a fire going. Neither of us feel the cold much, so it’s always hard to tell what guests need.”

Morgan walked a little further, pointing out a series of bathrooms and storage closets and double checking on the snack situation. There was some leftover veggie and bone broth soup and cranberry muffins that had been baked just earlier that day, and were currently in want of a taste tester since Morgan’s tastebuds had stopped working right after ‘an illness.’ “Also, let me know if this is overkill, okay? Besides, we’ve made it to the room you’re actually here to see!” Smiling bright with expectation, Morgan flung open the library doors and stood aside for Bex to enter. It was another white, overcast day, the kind where it was safe to part the many curtains that lined the windows without fear of fading Deirdre’s antique first editions, kept behind glass and lovingly tended to often. “Was there something you wanted to look at first in particular?” She asked.

Bex looked around in wonderment as she followed Morgan through the house. It was almost as big as her own, but somehow it felt so much more...like a home. There were things about the place that made it feel lived in, made it feel like people lived here, and not portraits and ghosts of the past. She reached out idly and ran her fingers along a table that had photos-- mostly of cats-- on it and tried not to look at too many or pry too hard into who they were. “I’m fine,” she said when Morgan offered to heat up the place, though Bex did feel a slight chill in the house she hadn’t felt before. “I have my jacket, anyway,” she said with a nod, trying to do away with the nervous smile. Her last conversation with Morgan had gotten...not fun, but Morgan didn’t know the safe word, so Bex couldn’t really blame her for the things she’d said. But they weren’t things Bex wanted to think about right now-- or ever, really-- and so she hoped they wouldn’t come up again today.

“Your house is so...homey,” she finally said when they came to a stop at the library finally. Her eyes were still wandering the halls and she nearly ran into Morgan, stopping herself just in time as she pointed out the room. “Oh! No, this is fine, really! My parents’ house is a little bigger than this, so I’m used to places with lots of rooms and stuff.” She blinked and let her gaze fall to the room in question, eyes lighting up instantly when she saw the shelves lined with books, old, probably valuable ones tucked behind glass in special cases. It was so colorful, compared to the dull greys and blues of the law library her parents kept. And so much larger than the bookshelf in Bex’s room that was lined with sci-fi and fantasy novels, tucked behind textbooks and history books. She took a moment to graze the spines of some nearby botanical looking texts before turning back to Morgan. “Oh, um--” pondered a moment-- “not to be predictable but-- anything about history? Whatever you’ve got!”

Morgan couldn’t help but beam with pride at Bex’s assessment of her place. “You really think so? It’s come a long way since I first visited, I think. I made most of the re-decorating choices, but some of the artwork prints are Deirdre’s work and um--” She gestured to a painting on the wall and beckoned Bex to follow. If Deirdre hadn’t told Morgan it was meant to be her, she wouldn’t have known. Only one large vaguely eye-looking shape indicated that the figure was meant to be a person at all. But there was affection in the brush strokes, in the time spent working at the little craft store canvas. Morgan touched the elaborate frame tenderly. “Some original work. Doesn’t happen everyday, as you might be able to guess, but that’s just what makes it special.” She laughed, full of warmth and fondness. She didn’t have to think it was pretty to love it.

“Anyways, this shelf is where the history stuff is.” She tapped her fingers down the shelf next to the painting. “Ireland, England, Norway and Germany up there. Then Mexico, Honduras, Venezuela, and Cuba in the middle. Then Egypt, Greece, and Rome. And my local, personal treasures are at the bottom. Texas, at the bottom. Maine, second to bottom. There’s only a couple of proper books, and then folders of many, many print outs and scans. And--” she pointed to one of the glass cases next to them. “A few old books, from back then. Ledgers, journals, a uh...grimoire. Family recipes, notes, old 19th century solutions to ailments, and some rituals and so one.” She flitted her gaze back to Bex. She didn’t seem so uptight as she had in the doorway, but after one of their recent conversations, Morgan couldn’t help but worry. “You can look at anything you want, okay?” And then, because she couldn’t help it. “How are you doing anyways?”

Bex was immediately intrigued by the books, ready to shovel a few of them off the shelf and pry them open. But she figured she ought to listen to Morgan first, it was the least she could do as thanks for letting her come over and explore her library. Her eyes fell to the paintings Morgan was gesturing to, and she was surprised to find out some of them were made by Deirdre herself. “Oh? She-- she made those?” she asked, then realized that she knew very little about Deirdre, except that she was Morgan’s partner and that she was incredibly pushy about people finding her attractive. Oh, and that she somehow understood Bex’s struggle better than anyone she’d ever talked to before, but she wasn’t about to think too hard about that one. “That’s incredible,” she said, once she’d had a chance to fully take in what she was looking at. Art was as much a part of history as wars and hunting, and those were, technically, very small parts of history.

Her attention, however, was lost when Morgan started listing off all the records and books and ledgers they had in their collection. Her eyes lit up with a renewed sense of wonder as she followed Morgan over to the shelves with her desired sources on it, and reached out for her first pick-- Egypt, of course-- when the question came. Her hand froze, midway through pulling a book out, but she didn’t move and she didn’t dare look at Morgan. Online, it was so easy to delete something you didn’t mean to type. Or to take your time in replying, to really think about what you were saying. To lie. But in person, the scrutiny of the other person, standing right near by, made it so much more difficult to do any of those things. And once they were said, you couldn’t take them back. There was no delete key for spoken words.

And so, Bex would have to choose her words carefully. She was studying to be a lawyer, after all, it should’ve been easy. “I’m doing okay,” she finally answered, finishing plucking the book out, albeit much slower than previous. “No more weird bird attacks or bloodied clothes since we last talked.” Interjecting jokes usually helped diffuse a situation, right? She pulled out another book before turning to look at Morgan. Maybe she could just change the subject. “You know, most history books were actually written using old records and ledgers. A lot of history actually comes from personally written accounts, and family records. So, really, be keeping your family’s, your helping history.”

“She made this one; I made that one.” Morgan pointed behind her at the messy painting on the wall. She couldn’t stand to look at it for very long. The memory of painting it at Lydia’s was too vivid; if Deirdre didn’t like it so much, Morgan would have taken it down already. “It’s an ‘in the eye of the beholder’ thing,” she said, waving the subject away.

She laughed alongside Bex as she quipped about her cockatrice run in and went over to the long coffee table to pick up the book she’d last been working on. “That isn’t what I meant, though.” she said. “I’m not asking for details, I just want to know…” If you’re okay. If you need help. Urgent, non-magical help because you were afraid of what would happen if you came home with bloody clothes and you keep talking about your family with the same kind of beholden fear Deirdre used to speak about hers with. I want to know that. But Morgan couldn’t say any of that if she wanted the girl to stay. “...how you’re really doing. I know when you’re applying yourself really hard in a lot of stressful environments or in stuff that feels high stakes, it can sometimes feel like you need to be fine all the time. But that’s just not the case. But, we don’t have to get into it, if it makes you uncomfortable.” Or more uncomfortable than she was all the time, at least.

“They’re pretty,” Bex said, looking over at Morgan’s as well. She could appreciate most art as well, even the kind that you had to squint at to see anything from it. But like most other things in history, art had its place, and therefore it held a place in Bex’s heart as well. “I think all art is in the eye of the beholder, that’s sort of what makes it art, right? I took an art history class once, I think that was the lesson. That, and that white men rule that world, too,” she said, with a roll of her eyes.

Bex adjusted the books in her arms and shuffled in her spot. She didn’t want to answer any of those questions, because the answers weren’t good ones. And because there was nothing anyone could do about them. She bit her lip. “When I talked to Deirdre online, she kept asking me some pretty heavy things. I tried to tell her I wasn’t comfortable with a lot of it, and she suggested we come up with a safe word, for when things get too hard or confusing. So I suggested the word ‘tomato’, because I don’t like tomatoes so I never really talk about them. But-- that’s not the important thing. The important thing is-- I don’t want to answer your question, but if I tell you that, you’ll already know an answer anyway, because it’s usually pretty telling when people say they don’t wanna talk about how they are. So, instead, I’m just gonna say tomato and ask that maybe we just...don’t talk about that yet. Okay?”

Morgan’s features softened. She’d known Deirdre would be kind, and that with enough time, it would even be for Bex’s own sake and not just because she’d asked. But the conversational safeword hit with a particular kind of compassion, one that understood Bex’s fear more than Morgan, because it was closer to her own. Morgan smiled softly. “Okay. Tomato. I can remember that,” she said. She took her book and went to her usual spot on the couch and curled up and put in a single earbud and began to read. There was more, much more, that she wanted to show the girl today, but after how badly their coffee outing had gone after she’d pushed too hard and too fast it made more sense to let her come down from whatever stress had just spiked.

Morgan read and turned the page and tried to read some more. She was half tempted to show Bex the guest rooms in detail and throw in a free decoration job, or offer to just put up a bed in the library, if that would make the idea more appealing. ‘Tomato’ was almost as telling as the words Bex didn’t want to say and Morgan couldn’t help but weave through the silence in her mind, searching in vain for some clue that would tell her just how worried she should be.

After a while, Morgan paused her playlist and took out her earbud. She got up and passed by Bex on her way to the door. “I’m going to heat up some water for coffee. Holler if you want anything, okay? I’ll be right back.” She pressed the girl’s shoulder, unthinking, too used to being at ease in her home to think of how her skin felt to others, and drifted away without thinking anything of it.

“Thank you.” The relief felt large and consuming when Morgan agreed to tomato. Bex was grateful, and she shifted her books once more before going over to sit on the couch opposite Morgan, propping open her first book and perusing the table of contents. She couldn’t help the excitement that rose back up in her chest as she flipped through and started reading, already half forgetting that there was someone else in the room with her. She could always so easily fall into a good book, especially a good history book. And these ones were new to her! She hadn’t read them before, and even through that excitement, she was eager to get to the books on the town’s history-- and to forget the things Morgan said to her and asked about her.

She was enraptured in her book when Morgan got up. So much so that she didn’t even notice until the older woman was next to her, patting her on the shoulder. Bex jumped slightly, closing the book on reflex. Hands splayed over the title as if trying to hide it before she remembered where she was and that she didn’t need to do that here. She nodded stiffly. “Right, thank you,” she said, clearing her throat. Her eyes drifted to her shoulder where Morgan had touched her and the ice cold sensation that had come from her hand. Strange. Gripping the books tightly, Bex leaned out of her couch as if to follow Morgan with her gaze, before slipping from the chair and going back over to the cabinets full of books. Her eyes scanned the titles of the ones behind glass, and she wanted so bad to touch, to look-- but didn’t. She was sure with time and trust, one day she would be able to see them. Instead, she put back the two books she’d found and slipped out the Bachman ledger. Sat on the floor in front of the shelf, folding it open tenderly and exploring the pages with her own eyes. Curious, perhaps, beyond reason when she didn’t believe in the things that were written in the texts.

Morgan froze in front of the door, watching Bex. “S-sorry,” she muttered, cradling her hand to her chest. “I forgot. I should probably wear gloves or something, honestly. It’s um, a chronic thing…” But Bex had done more than just flinch. Morgan took in her closed book, her clenched posture, and catalogued the away for later.

She took her time in the kitchen, making a rich cup of espresso that filled her with a nice tingle of earthy flavor and coming back after she’d made another cup and run to her bedroom to borrow a pair of Deirdre’s gloves. When she returned, she froze in the entrance again, taking in Bex looking over her family’s old books. “Hey,” she called softly. “Find anything good? I know some of that stuff can be uh...a little confusing. If you have any questions, um…” She approached slowly, trying to get a peek at what she was looking at. There were lots of ways to explain witchcraft in a cultural context, dimly, Morgan even wondered if she could sneak in a lesson under the pretense of historical recreation or anthropology exploration. But one thing at a time. “Well, I’m sure you’re gonna have questions, but just let me know, okay? I’m an open book too.” At least as much as she could be without scaring the girl.

Bex devoured most of the ledger by the time Morgan had come back. Speed reading was a necessary skill when you had to memorize tomes that were thousands of pages long full of legal jargon and so on and such forth. She startled slightly, blinking as she looked up at Morgan, a little embarrassed she was still on the floor, dress splayed out around her. Cheeks flushing, she ran her hands over the pages of the parchment and bit her lip. Her curiosity was easily spotted in her eyes, as she stared down the words. “Oh, lots of good stuff, that’s for sure,” she answered, giving a smile. She glanced up to Morgan. “Lots of questions, too, like--” she looked around, then back-- “did your family really think they were cursed? Is that what you were talking about, too, when you said you thought you’d cursed your family because you were--” the word stuck in her throat. She hadn’t said it outloud in so long. It almost felt wrong, but she knew it wasn’t. She knew she didn’t have to be afraid here. And yet, the fear remained. She folded back into herself, fingers pressing gently against the edges of the book.

“What’s it like being back here?” she asked, moving on, and hoping Morgan wouldn’t stick on it, either. “Knowing your family has history here? Did you expect that? Did you know that when you came here? Do you have more stuff about your family history? I only saw this one--” gestured to the ledger-- “and I wasn’t sure what else I could, um....look at.”

Morgan sipped her coffee and came down to sit next to Bex, peering over the pages. She’d never known how to feel about most of her ancestors. The pieces of them preserved on paper were so distant and impersonal. She couldn’t tell if they were sarcastic, or moody, or sweet, or boisterous. Everything was so restrained, or fragmented, they were less than ghosts. And then there were the secrets they’d kept, the lies they’d told themselves. They hadn’t deserved to suffer so badly, but stars above…

“Yes,” Morgan said carefully. “The curse is real. Or, I mean…” She took another sip of coffee, fingers tapping and fidgeting around the mug as she tried to figure out how to thread this needle. “It was certainly real to them, all of them, right up to my mother. And there really was a girl who used to work for the Bachmans, and she was a self-proclaimed witch. The family cast her out when she was nineteen and she died horribly and alone and when they finally found her body, she was bent over a cauldron, surrounded by rune stones and crystal stones and other stuff you’d expect of a witch. And then, there were the things that happened to the family. Those were real too.” She got up and took out her pink plastic file folder to offer to the girl. “There’s prescriptions, doctor notes, death certificates, shopping lists for medical supplies, and so on, that corroborate the stories of the terrible things that happened to the family. Every three years, there uh, just so happened to be a spike in these rather unfortunate, often tragic events. And while the family was by no means protected from the world’s chaos before, the severity and frequency of peril was at least somewhat noteworthy on these ‘cursed’ years.” Morgan could barely keep the edge out of her voice. She felt ill and hollow playing pretend, throwing questions over these people who knew only too well what was happening to them. She cleared her throat and smiled bravely. “You can see why they would maintain a belief like that. Obviously. But that’s not why I thought I was a curse for being a lesbian. My mother chose not to pass on that particular lore until I came out to her. That was definitely just some really awful timing with the AIDS epidemic and the Satanic Panic and living in Suburban Texas. I’m not really sure how much of a chance I stood at having a healthy relationship with my sexuality straight out the gate.” She laughed, rueful with the safety of distance and better days.

“But it’s fine. I did come up here for the history. I wanted to get the truth about all those awful scary stories and try to make sense of my life through that. And there’s more things in the glass cabinets and there’s...well, I guess they’re antiques now. There’s a chest upstairs of things Agnes…” she sighed sadly, thinking of the woman, of her pain. “...My great-great grandmother Agnes buried before she emigrated to Texas.” She looked sidelong at the girl, her fear and anxiety coiling her like a spring just as much as her excitement. She hated lying to her, dressing up the truth in cute little rational outfits. It felt patronizing, even morbid in some odd, diminishing way she couldn’t articulate. Patting the girl’s fingers with her now gloved hand, she said, “I would be astonished if you didn’t see everything in my collection at least once eventually. But you can go through that folder and…” She shrugged haplessly. “Anything else you’re curious about. I don’t see much point in keeping knowledge locked up.” She normally didn’t see much point in keeping secrets either, and she let out a long sigh in a vain effort to relieve the tension holding so many caused her.

Bex watched Morgan closely as she came to sit next to her, and she scooped up the books she’d had propped around her to set them aside. She was never the best at reading people’s faces, except for when they were mad or angry or irritated-- those looks she knew well, and she knew well how to calm them. But Morgan’s face showed none of those, only a sort of quiet contemplation and perhaps a weariness Bex didn’t quite understand yet.

When Morgan began to speak, she listened as intently as possible. Bad luck was often a curse people talked about-- she’d read books about people cursed with bad luck or families cursed with it, too. Somehow, the way Morgan described it seemed different from those, seemed...harder. Bex tried to get herself to understand, how an entire family lineage, written and recorded, could be cursed, believe they were all cursed. And it didn’t entirely fall short on her-- her inherent curiosity let her believe in many things. Ghosts, monsters, spirits-- the concept of energy and feeling it through the Earth and its elements. But witchcraft, curses, spellcasting-- the way her parents had talked to her about it, about what people in this town might say-- felt wrong. It felt almost...dirty. She took the folder Morgan handed her and glanced at it, closing up the ledger and flitting through the records. And after everything Morgan said and all the information that was now stuffed in her head, Bex really only had one question.

She turned to look at Morgan, eyes full of curiosity, and understanding, for the sorrow she obviously held for her family and the torture they’d been through. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Morgan sat further back in her seat, her gaze drifting out to the window, where she could see the pool and the shed where she had spent so many weeks in grief. She had found out the truth, and she’d tracked down the witch who had cursed her, she had made her suffer, and she had escaped the perpetual grip of suffering that had ground her existence down to little more than fear and avoidance. She sipped her coffee slowly, thinking still. Nothing she had explicitly set out to accomplish had done her any good, and yet she wouldn’t have her good if she hadn’t bothered trying at all. How did you weigh that against everything else?

“I just came here looking for a way to find out what really happened to my family. To make all the pieces fit and get out from under thirty-nine years plus four generations of trauma. That first part was relatively easy, and I don’t, strictly speaking, regret it, even if that search came with some really, really high costs I’m still figuring out how to reckon with.” She swallowed thickly. “Before I came here, the wildest, most painfully impossible dream I had for my life--and I mean so painful I tried to think about it as little as possible--was to live in a house big enough to have people over in at a moment’s notice, with a fancy bathroom, and a room just for books, and another one just for cats. A woman to come home to, who would hold me at night, who would love me, even after knowing all of my mess and my past.” She gestured around them and looked about the room herself, trying to take in the place like it was new. “Even if I’ll never get to appreciate all of this in exactly the way I used to, wanted to, it’s still here. And it’s mine. And I wouldn’t have any of it if I’d given up or stayed home. And it’s uh...I don’t know if anything ‘worth’ some of the stuff I have to carry with me for the rest of my life, but if it was always going to be a package deal, if it would always mean a little suffering and struggle, so I could have all this, I’d do everything the same. To know what it feels like to be home, the way home is supposed to be, I’d do it.” Finally, she turned her gaze to Bex, her smile turning watery. “So I guess I did, but I found something better too.”

The contemplative silence that fell over Morgan after Bex’s question gave her enough of an answer to know what might be coming once she spoke. It wasn’t exactly a common story, but it was close enough to one that Bex understood what Morgan meant, how going through all of the pain, slogging through the hard part, was worth it in the end because she got to find a place that was better and happy and worth more. She hadn’t noticed herself tearing up while she listened until she looked up at Morgan and found a watery smile wavering back at her. She wiped them away quickly and turned her head away, fiddling with the folder she’d been handed. “So it was worth it? Coming here? Going through-- all of that?” Fighting for something she wanted and something she needed. Bex didn’t know if she had that much fight in her, she didn’t know if what Morgan was talking about was something she’d ever get to have, to try. She sniffled a little and leaned back against one of the shelves. “For what it’s worth,” she said quietly, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Morgan wiped at her own eyes and nodded. “I guess if I’d do it twice or three times over the same way, it must be.” She laughed softly, swallowing back the rest of her tears. “Uh, don’t really recommend doing everything that I did on the way to get..this. Or whatever it is you really want for yourself, Bex. It is worth it, even if it’s hard, and I do know hard, but I hope for something to be easy for you. Easy and right. Not many things are, and I feel like...I just have a feeling that you’ve already had a bit of hard.” She met the girl’s eyes, trying to gauge how close she was to the truth, how much deeper Bex would let her look. “Thank you, for saying that,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t always. Glad to be here, I mean. But I am now. I hope you’re glad to be here too. Because you really are something special, Bex…”

At that, Bex felt her heart squeeze. Morgan was always so honest and open with her, she’d let her ask crazy questions that got way more than personal. She let her sit in the back of the class and didn’t call on her unless she wanted. She let her go through her family’s entire library of books-- and all Bex had given back to her was the word tomato and an inkling of what she might want out of life. Her body drooped and she plucked at a seam on her dress. “I haven’t seen as many hard times as you,” she murmured, “that’s for sure…” Even those words said enough about the truth. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m happy I have a home, and I’m happy there’s so many people here that seem to care about me being happy,” she started out slowly, “but...I don’t know if I’m happy to be here, you know, at the moment.” She sighed and leaned back. “I was happy to be out. I was happy to have found a place where I might fit in better. I-- it was strange, but I liked Penn State. Even after the incident, I--” she clicked her jaw, “--don’t know. It was just nice, to have my own place…”

“Out?” It took Morgan a second to catch up to Bex’s train of thought. But there were only so many things a kid could come out as, and with the way Bex felt she owed her parents for ‘letting her’ be herself, the pieces finally clicked into place. Oh, Bexley. “Hey. It’s not a contest. And you don’t have to be happy to be here right now. Sometimes it’s better to say that, than to pretend. Pretending can be exhausting, right?” She leaned back against the pillows, curling herself up as she angled toward Bex. “I have two questions, and you can answer both, or just one, or neither, but… What happened in the um, ‘incident’? And, also, if you could have your own place, an apartment or even just a few rooms to yourself, what would it be like? What would you put in it?”

Bex gave a little snort as she suppressed a chuckle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-- I didn’t mean-- it’s just that-- all I do is pretend.” She shook her head. “At least it feels that way.” She sniffled a little, tried not to play all of her hand at once. She knew Morgan could see straight through her, though, so what was the point? “It um--” Bex sat back against the books, pulling her knees up to her chest, “rumors spread so quickly around campuses, you know? It’s crazy. I’d never expected anything like that. I went to private boarding school and any rumors there were just about who’s dad made more money or whatever. Anything with substance was hushed quickly.” She breathed in deep, biting her lip. “But public school is a whole other playing field, isn’t it? In private school, if you had shit to say, you said it to their face, consequences be damned because mommy and daddy would just pay it off. Anyway…someone um-- started a rumor about me and I guess this uh-- this girl, wanted to know for herself. So she asked me out and then afterwards we went back to her room and things got--” Hesitating, Bex felt her hands begin to shake. She smoothed her palms down her legs. “The point is that, she posted photos of us online and my parents found out and they really didn’t like it because you know what you can’t pay off? Teenagers with Facebook and Twitter.”

Morgan’s hand twitched, itching to reach out for Bex. “No, it’s okay, you can laugh,” she said, smiling wryly. “If you’re gonna be miserable, you may as well appreciate whatever humor you can. Even if that’s no way to live your life, especially not all the time.” She listened, trying and failing to keep her expression neutral. In the end, she stopped trying. “Bex…” she whispered. “Is it okay if I get closer to you?” She held up her hands, showing off the thin leather gloves. “I won’t feel so...cold. But…” Some traumatized kids don’t like to be touched. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, if you don’t like being touched.” She scanned her face, searching for an answer in her expression. “I’m so sorry, Bex. That anyone would treat you so cruel. You do know it wasn’t your fault, right? The horrible things people do aren’t a value or a judgement on you. You should get to be loved, Bex.”

“Who says I’m miserable!?” Bex said loudly, but it echoed in the library between them and she realized how stupid that sounded. She wrapped her arms around her knees and drew them even closer. Blinked away some hot tears building in her eyes and drew in a breath, holding it a moment. Logically, she had no real reason to dislike the touch of others so intimately-- but she knew why she did. “Um-- a little closer is fine,” she said with a short nod. Eyes couldn’t be found anymore, staring hard at her tights covered knees. “I mean-- I should’ve known, though!” she argued, “I should’ve known. No one would just like me. And I wasn’t even sure--” well, that was a blatant lie. Bex had been sure about it since she was in elementary school, and she’d only questioned herself once her parents had found out-- “that I liked-- that I was--” and she couldn’t even say the words anymore. “I should’ve known, because all people have done, all my life, is use me to get what they want. And I…” started, stopped. She didn’t know what to say anymore. “I guess that’s just my life.”

Morgan inched closer. Slowly, she feathered one finger along the girl’s temple, brushing away her tears. “There’s nothing you should’ve known. There’s no reason why you should think that anyone who says they like you isn’t being honest. There’s no good reason anyone has to be cruel like that. Whatever you’re used to, whatever people have done, that’s not your worth, or the meaning of what you can have, Bex.” She dropped her voice even softer and hovered her hand above the girl’s, which dug deep into her body. “You are such a gift, Bex. Just the way you are. You don’t have to be afraid of liking girls, or anything else about yourself. There’s nothing about who you are that isn’t wonderful, even though it doesn’t feel that way right now. Even though it feels easier to pretend to be different. You’re okay just like this.” Slower still, her hand settled on Bex’s. “Do you want me to come closer?” She asked.

Bex listened to Morgan talk but none of the words stuck. They slammed against her, pressing against old wounds that had never closed, and made her hurt. Reminded her of why they hurt. She screwed her eyes shut and put her head on her knees. She wanted to believe her, she wanted so bad to let herself believe Morgan-- but giving herself that hope would just hurt more in the end. If she let herself believe that maybe she was okay like this, her parents would just rip it away again. All she had was her ability to pretend. She’d accepted that long ago. “Tomato,” was all she said, not moving when Morgan rested a hand on hers. She was quiet for a long moment before she lifted her head again, eyes unable to meet Morgan’s. “Can we go see the bone room now?”

Morgan’s heart sank. She couldn’t stop trying any more than Bex could stop from hiding herself. It was too important. And with every opportunity she got, she thought, maybe this time, or maybe this time, or this time, or this time, or this time...it would stick. And everything would be okay. But not today.

Morgan gave the girl’s fingers a light squeeze. “Okay. Of course we can,” she said. “Come here with me, honey, I’ll show you.” She released her fingers reluctantly and stood, trying not to watch Bex too closely as she led the way out the room and down the hall. The girl would want to compose herself, or decide how she wanted to shield herself. They had that much in common, much as it pained Morgan to recognize.

The bone room was down at the end, mostly gallery, with tall display cases that housed articulated minks, foxes, squirrels, chipmunks, rats, and the like. Rows of skulls looked down from the topmost shelves, delighted in their grim, lifeless way. To the right was a case of fossils of all sorts, mostly in little chunks of ammonite and sandstone, with a few precious pieces of amber that made Morgan touch the one that hung around her neck with affection. At the end was an antique worktable with a stool, currently draped with canvas, but usually spotted with dust and tools for Deirdre to work with. Nearby, two armchairs and an end table were crammed together, Morgan’s attempt at extending quality time. She went to her spot now and sat, cozying up again.

“This one’s mine,” she said, tapping gently on the display shelf next to her. “Most are from since Deirdre came here, but I think there’s a few favorites she brought with her. She told me you could take one of the fossils with you, if you like. Just let me know which.”

Bex understood that Morgan just wanted to help, she really did-- but how was she supposed to when Bex didn’t even understand what she needed help with? The situation with her parents was difficult, she knew it wasn’t the best place for her, but she had nowhere else to go. No guarantee that she would have anything if she acted out. No guarantee that they would let her go. Her obedience stemmed from fear and she understood that, on some level, but she also just wanted her parents to tell her they loved her. Tell her they were proud of her. That was an achievable goal, she knew it, she just needed to tough it out for a little bit, be the daughter they wanted. She could do that, really, she could.

Still, she felt the disappointment in Morgan’s words when she closed up, and Bex couldn’t lift her eyes from the floor. Even the small squeeze of her fingers made her muscles tighten. She wasn’t used to affectionate touches, to those small, reassuring ones that were meant to comfort, not hurt. Swallowing, she stood up with her and shuffled behind her towards the bone room. It was as wonderful and amazing as she thought it might be, old fossils and bones lining the wall, history written forever in the DNA of living beings-- but she couldn’t find the words to voice her feelings. Silently, she walked over to the work table and ran her fingers over the cloth, wondering what it looked like underneath. Imagining what it might feel like to sit in the stool herself and work away at restoring some old fossil or artifact she’d found while exploring.

At Morgan’s words, she turned back to look at her. “It’s-- that’s okay,” she said, turning her attention to the display case Morgan had motioned to as hers. “I don’t have a spot for it yet.” A spot to hide it, as it were. She paused in front of the case. “You made all of these?”

Morgan turned around in her seat and peered over at the shelf Bex was standing by. She didn’t try to stifle the fondness at seeing her handiwork: articulated squirrels and birds, the bone crown that had won first place at the town craft fair, some jewelry she had gifted or made just for practice, and lots of partial limbs, paws, wings, and skulls carefully cleaned and polished. “We articulated the skeletons together, and that doe, hanging up there,” she pointed to the wall. “I brought the pieces to her as a birthday present. I really don’t know enough about anatomy in order to be able to tell what goes where on my own. But I like them. And the things I get to make, obviously. I like how, even if their old selves aren’t really here, something is still left behind. Something even beautiful. Death doesn’t always have to be grotesque. There can still be change, and beauty. And that’s just...something that is really important for me to remember right now.” She laughed, self-deprecating, at some of her rougher practice pieces. “I’m getting better, by the way. Not great, but, uh.” She shrugged.

Bex could understand that. A skeleton of what they used to be, still here, just different. Even after death, something remained. Maybe there was more than one kind of death. Her eyes traveled the skeletons, the articulated squirrel, the birds, with their fragile, delicate wing bones; the bone crown, decorated with moss and flowers and jewels. There was a deep sense of longing Bex felt looking at them. It wasn’t the same, the thing she craved, but it was close enough to make her feel a deep envy for what Morgan had. A loving girlfriend, a home that felt real, a hobby that satisfied her, and confidence to be herself. Bex’s hands wrung together and she stole a small glance over at Morgan in her chair. “I think it’s incredible,” she said quietly, “and so beautiful.” Suddenly, she turned to fully face Morgan, eyes more steady than they had been most of the afternoon. “Can you teach me how to do it?”

Morgan didn’t say anything at first. She was hoping to get Bex to take a piece, something discreet, to remind her that she wasn’t alone, as close to an enchantment as a mundane object could get. She hadn’t expected Bex (or anyone besides Erin and Gabe, really) to care about the work she did with her hands. But she couldn’t deny how it had helped her, and she did want Bex to come by more often. At this point, her magic barely factored into the picture at all. It was this cage she carried around herself, this thing her parents had built. Morgan’s features softened and she climbed out of the chair, coming as close to the girl as she dared. “If that’s what you want, Bex, I’d like nothing more.”

“I think it’d be nice,” Bex said, “to learn how to do something with my hands. To...make and not break.” LIke the pot, like the sidewalk, like the windows. Like everything. She idled, hands wringing together again. “I’ve watched videos of people doing this kind of work, like um-- cleaning bones, and fossils and putting them back together. Making something new out of something most people would think is lifeless. I guess I don’t really seem like the type of person to like this kind of thing, right?” But that was just it, wasn’t it? She was the kind of person that liked those things. The persona she played wasn’t real. Her hands begged to build and touch and feel and create. Discover. Her demeanor changed quickly and her body tightened again. “Just don’t...you can’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, and I look like someone who does?” Morgan balked, laughing. She gestured to her rose-pink skirt, her periwinkle blue sweater. Maybe the skull on her pendant was a little bit of a hint, or the bone ring on her middle finger, but a lot of people couldn’t tell it apart from plastic, they’d seen so little of it before. However much she’d changed, Morgan still clung to life, and sometimes she even let it show. “The last thing I would ever presume, Bex, is a limit on what you’re capable of. But I won’t tell anyone. Except for Deirdre. Because I tell her everything, and she’s going to be so excited, but other than that: no one outside this home needs to know. And!” She left the room and beckoned for Bex to follow her. “It just so happens that I do my work in my own little hidey-hole. We’ll be working there when you come to visit. Or we can set up a temporary workstation in the kitchen, if you prefer.” She stopped short of the back door, which led onto the patio, the garden, the pool, and Morgan’s little gray studio. “And you can turn up whenever you want for a lesson, though I won’t lie, it’d be nice to see you once a week. You’re pretty great to be around, and it’s not an easy thing to get the hang of.”

Bex gave a tiny smile at that. It was true, Morgan didn’t seem like the kind of person to like working with dead things or bones, but Bex couldn’t be too surprised, since she liked those things, too. Maybe they weren’t so different after all. Maybe there was hope for Bex to have something like Morgan did. She blinked, following Morgan through the house towards the back door. “That’s okay, you can tell her,” she said with a small nod, “I trust her, too.” And maybe there were only a few of those people around, but Bex’s group of people she trusted was slowly expanding. Now, she’d just have to come up with a way to explain to her parents where she was going so often. She could probably get away with a half lie-- they’d be thrilled if they knew she was working extra with a professor from the school. They just didn’t need to know which professor and what they were doing. She could have this one thing. “Is that the shed you told me about? The one in the backyard?” she asked, curious. “I think that’d be fine. I wouldn’t mind working there.” Her eyes came up to look at Morgan finally, a bit of hope twinkling in them. “I think I can do that. Once a week…” It was a wild concept, to have something to look forward to each week-- but she was sure she’d get used to it. “I can do that.”

Morgan beamed. “You can just tell your parents you’re taking on an independent study, or a research assistantship! I don’t actually have those at my pay grade, but--” She shrugged, signaling shh. It wouldn’t matter, in the end. As long as Bex could get here without invoking their ire, as long as she could find a space to grow a little piece of happiness, the details didn’t matter. Morgan led the way out the back and through the freshly paved path that lead to her studio. She opened the door for them and switched on the lights, then the overhead for the table she worked at. Schoolwork mingled with glue and thread and wire and half a dozen animal vertebrae scattered before and armature that needed to be assembled and deer horns in need of cutting, skulls that only been freshly skinned and still had to be polished. Her tool cabinet hung half open from when she’d abandoned work in the morning. It was a whole world of knowledge waiting to be understood. Morgan grinned and gestured for Bex to join her. “What do you say we get started now?”

#chatzy #chatzy: morgan #wickedswriting #bare bones #morgan #tw homophobia mention #tw transphobia mention #tw child abuse mention

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souptomatobasil · 3 years

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My favourite pieces from every month this year! (2/2) Despite everything going on the last 6 months were pretty damn good for art!

#tangle tower #Dungeons and Dragons #pokemon #digital art #OC #original character #OPAE #Dawn #Soup #Terry #Spec

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this-possum-cries · 1 year

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Grimoires (& how to make one!)

(Here is all the knowledge I have gathered about Grimoires & how to make your own. I hope it serves you well!)

Grimoire as a tool: banebite

~~~

ND Witchs Guide to Starting: curiouskitchenwitch

Return to Possum's Grimoire

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ambrial-blog · 2 years

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I.C.U.:

When the Boss imp doesn’t wake and winds up in the I.C.U. following the event of truth seekers.

Everyone is left in a manic state. Forced to take refuge in the human world, Stolas, Moxie, Millie and Loona take Blitzo into a human-ran-hospital. mistaken as a pet- and told to go to the veterinarian. Stolas persuades the doctor to take on as a secret patient.

His life utterly depended on it.

The Head nurse, who resembles a female Atilla the Hun, greets them with a dour expression on her face, like she had just at a lemon.

Loona growls at her, tense her claws biting into her hands. She delivers morose news. Blitzo had been hiding a heart murmur from them for some time. The murmur had exploded into renal heart failure.

Saddled with the disturbing news that Blitzo might not be coming home, the four demons sit beside themselves wrapped up in their own dark thoughts.

One of the last things she had ever said to him echoes in her head. Now she might never get to tell him how she feels. How could he hide something like this from them?.

Did he try to tell them, and they weren’t listening?

The Goetic prince asks to see him, but the nurse is abdomen about following the rules and allowing one in at a time.

Moxie stood up counting head and then gave the nurse a quizzical look. While the rest looked at each other and then back at the nurse.

The nurse carries on saying that his husband is in there with him and reassuring no-one that he is taking care of things.

“And who exactly is his husband?” asked Stolas, interrupting Moxie, who was about to ask the same question.

“I don’t have his name answers the nurse while flipping through her charts, but he must hail from Austin Texas. He is a southern gentleman. she acclaims.

“If I wasn’t married”- she went on a tinge of pink flushed her cheeks.

“I thought you said Blitz was an animal?” inquires Millie, throwing the nurse a skeptical look.

The nurse shakes her head.

“Its Striker!”.. he is in there, probably finishing the job! snarls Moxie, his fists clenched, eyes screwed shut.

He lied to us... he never told us about his heart murmur and now-

“How could he lie to us? We never asked about him about this-, we just took him for granted.”

“Like he’d always be there, like he’d always bounce back” Loona looks up with tears in her eyes. Springing from her chair, her hands coming to grip the lapels of her white coat. A look of surprise on the nurse’s face.

“It will be okay, the nurse reintegrated. “He is in excellent hands, the lord’s hands,” she says.

“Crap! She’s christen,” Loona glowers.

“It is all up to the cowboy. I’ve checked out his records and their emasculate. at least someone knew of his condition and if anyone could help that poor thing pull through, it would be him,” she says.

“But he’s lying. He doesn’t care about Blitzo! Moxie barges in. he is an assassin for hire.. he’s here to kill him! Do you understand, ma’am?

“Possum, if that Texan wanted to kill him, he’d done so by now. I think I can spot a budding romance a mile away.

“Oh yea, the last romance you had was a bull!” snarls Moxie

The nurse pinches the bridge of her nose, my shift is ending shortly shorty, and if you're here when I get off.. “the unspoken threat hung in the air.

Why is he hiding these types of problems? Aren’t we family! Stolas remained quiet. He wanted- no, needed to see Blitz to hear his voice. The man was blaming himself. He should have never allowed Blitzo near his grimoire, maybe things would have been different if he was more acclaim to tell the demon no.

We wait for the shift turnover and then we go looking for his room. Both Blitzo and this unnamed cowboy have some explaining to do. quips the owl.

“He has a name your highness, he has tried to sway Blitzo at the harvest moon festival and now- he’s planning on finishing the job” Moxie’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“And you're sure it is my little imp he is after?” inquires the prince. Moxie gulps Blitzo was trying to distract him at the fall festival. His true target is you, sir,” Moxie answers, his voice trembling.

Stolas stares blankly out into the dark corridors of the hospital. He had his qualms about his wife.

Secret meeting, hushed phone calls late at night. Something was going on. The prince had suspected his wife to be a part of of his assassination. They were growing apart any now-.

Nothing screamed louder than the need to be by Blitzo’s side.

“What have I done? I’ve endangered them both. My starphire and my little imp,”

His lower lip wobbles.

“Blitzy, when did I lose you?” he wonders.

The Harvest Moon Festival wasn’t their first meeting. Apparently, when Blitzo stole Verosika’s credit card and maxed it out on shitty horse-riding lessons was.

They hadn’t exchanged names or anything- and Striker wasn’t his instructor: Derringer was- a gray-skinned snake imp cowboy who had taken a liking to the city imp.

Derringer was an old family friend. Blitzo’s uncles, Riff-Raff, and Scarecrow owned a ranch here in Wrath where the harlequin was staying.

The peach-skinned cowboy lived up a mile from one of Blitzo’s uncle. he was always helping, carrying bushels/ barrels of hay over his shoulder. The Ring Marcs and Remington’s were constantly feuding and or fighting over something..

Blitzo was no exception. Drake would often gloat to one brother about how Blitzo’s uncles were thinking about giving him away. And the shadow-serpents were keen on taking the scarlet imp for themselves. Riff-Raff wanted money. He was always squabbling with his brother.

If it wasn’t for Rattle, and Natalie, the brothers would have lost their farm and acres to the king of greed.

“Were not selling Blitzo, and that’s final snarls scarecrow”

“Blitz, will have to choose” he doesn’t have to marry Derringer, he could marry Drake or Draimen.

“I’m not selling our nephew!, so you can sleep better!” snarls the older brother. Ramming a pitchfork into the ground and wiping his brow.

“We might not have a choice, brother. Mammon can be very persuasive and he is a stickler about life debts”

“It’s not Blitzo’s serving out”

“Cael is dead! They found his rotting ass out in the dunes of the desert. Some say he was headed here when he died”

“Blitzo doesn’t belong here” Riff-Raff counters.

“He does, and I’m finished with this conversation,” Scarecrow snarls.

“Then we should put the imp out of his misery!, he was born with a heart defect!

“Shut up, you speak another word of this, and you're no brother of mine” Scarecrow warns.

“I want to see him taken care of as much as you do. He can’t thrive here! he’ll die here! Is that what you want, Scar?

Blitzo hated being the topic of a crude conversation between his two uncles. He knew he was unwanted on the farm. That his only friends were the RingMarc brothers and the Remington Brothers. six serpents who didn’t want Blitzo to go anywhere.

Blitzo didn’t have anywhere else to go, but he couldn’t stay in wrath. He hated when his uncles fought. Blitzo needed to make things right. He was seventeen, and he was itching to leave. He had taken one of his uncle’s horses out of the stable. Firelight neighed, nudging his hand looking for a sugar-cube Blitzo would often sneak her.

But the imp hadn’t expected his horse to get spooked. Firelight took off running into the open fields towards Remington farm. Striker looked up from where the fields parted to see a runaway horse barreling its way towards him. Blitzo had a fearful look on his face, his eyes wide as he held on tight. The loud ruckus brought a crowd.

Striker held out his hand to calm the devil and his horse, his hat was tipped to the sun, his arms outstretched as Blitzo fell into his arms. Striker’s tail wound itself around the red-skinned devil’s waist.

He looked up at the porch where his mother stood towel drying her hands and calling for her boys.

“I guess will set another plate,” she smiles

“Shitty, horse riding lessons, huh?” Striker smirks, winking at the scarlet devil.

“Something like that,” Blitzo answers.

“After dinner, there is a giant swing out back. My brothers are gone on a drive with my dad. It’s just you and me, sugar-cube,”

It had been years since Striker had sprung the question on him, getting on one knee in front of a roaring crowd during the pain-games. A year where Stolas himself was absent for the harvest moon festival, but his daughter was the one- ushering in the accursed glow from the true harvest moon.

Moxie probably blocked it out, and Stolas had trouble believing it himself. But the city imp was married to a country bumpkin. Who, after all these years, was still feuding with the Ring Marcs.

“Sugar-cube” Striker’s voice purrs into his ear. “I’m here, and I’m not leaving your side until you're feeling better. Until this whole thing passes and we get to go home. “Mom has been asking about you, he says, wiping the tears from Blitzo’s eyes, so had Adrian, Malachi and Remington. Auri is still asking for your hand in marriage. Vesper made you this tiny wooden horse. And I have the staff eating out of my hands.

“your the world to me, Blitz, so don’t give up on me darlin,”

#Hellvua Boss'#I.C.U.#Fanfiction #Striker/Blitzo #Remington/Blitzo #Vesper/Blitzo #Malachi/Blitzo #Drake/Blitzo #Derringer/Blitzo #Auri/Blitzo #Stolas/Blitzo

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213hiphopworldnews · 5 years

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All The New Albums Coming Out In January 2019

iStock

Keeping track of all the new albums coming out in a given month is a big job, but we’re up for it: Below is a comprehensive list of the major releases you can look forward to in January. If you’re not trying to potentially miss out on anything, it might be a good idea to keep reading.

Tuesday, January 1

Chrome Sparks — Be On Fire EP (Counter Records)

Thursday, January 3

T-Rextasy — Prehysteria (Boogie Agency Records)

Friday, January 4

Gandalf’s Owl — Who’s The Dreamer? (Club Inferno)

Legion Of The Damned — Slaves Of The Shadow Realm (Napalm Records)

Mark Deutrom (formerly Of Melvins) — The Blue Bird (Season Of Mist)

Old Sea Brigade — Ode To A Friend (Nettwerk Records)

YATRA — Death Ritual (Grimoire Records)

Thursday, January 10

HERO — Dirty Work EP (Fool’s Gold Records)

Friday, January 11

Angelic Milk — Divine Biker Lover (2670records)

Angelo De Augustine — Tomb (Asthmatic Kitty Records)

The Earthly Frames — Light Reading (self-released)

Jacob Banks — Village (UMGRI / Interscope)

The Jon Hill Project — Rebirth (self-released)

Matt Owens (of Noah & The Whale) — Whisky & Orchids (self-released)

Miss Grit — Talk Talk EP (self-released)

Neyla Pekarek (formerly of The Lumineers) — Rattlesnake (S-Curve Records)

Radar State (featuring members Of The Get Up Kids, The Anniversary, and The Architects) — Strays (Wiretap Records)

Randy Houser — Magnolia (Stoney Creek Records)

Rob Baird — After All (Hard Luck Recording Company)

Soilwork — Verkligheten (Nuclear Blast)

Taking Back Sunday — Twenty (Concord Music Group)

Tallies — Tallies (Kanine Records)

Tommy Emmanuel and John Knowles — Heart Songs (CGP Sounds/Thirty Tigers)

Violblast — Theater Of Despair (Hostile Media)

Watsky — Complaint (self-released)

You Tell Me (Field Music’s Peter Brewis and Admiral Fallow’s Sarah Hayes) — You Tell Me (Memphis Industries)

Wednesday, January 16

Altitudes & Attitude (Anthrax’s Frank Bello and Megadeth’s David Ellefson) — Get It Out (Megaforce)

Friday, January 18

A Pale Horse Named Death — When The World Becomes Undone (Long Branch Records)

Alice Merton — Mint (Mom + Pop Music)

AVER — Orbis Majora (Ripple Music)

Bexley — Lost in The Moment EP (self-released)

Bossy Love — Whiplash EP (self-released)

Buke and Gas — Scholars (Brassland)

Cane Hill — Kill The Sun (Rise Records)

Dahlia Sleeps — Love, Lost EP (Ferryhouse Productions)

Dani Bell And The Tarantist — Wide Eyed (Fat Beats Records)

Deerhunter — Why Hasn’t Everything Already Disappeared? (4AD)

Dodie — Human EP (Doddleoddle)

FEVER 333 — STRENGTH IN NUMB333RS (Roadrunner Records/333 Wreckords Crew)

The Flesh Eaters (featuring Dave Alvin and John Doe) — I Used To Be Pretty (Yep Roc Records)

Frances Cone — Late Riser (Living Daylight Records)

Frankley Everlong — Till The Dance Do Us Part (Eclipse Records)

Go Dark — Neon Young (Bella Union)

Greensky Bluegrass — All For Money (Big Blue Zoo Records)

Guster — Look Alive (Nettwerk Records)

Hawk And Dove — Our Childhood Heroes (self-released)

Hedvig Mollestad Trio — Smells Funny (Rune Grammofon)

Hikaru Utada — Face My Fears EP (Epic Records Japan)

Jack & Jack — A Good Friend Is Nice (Universal Island Records)

Joe Jackson — Fool (earMUSIC)

Joey Walker — Supersoft (Darling Recordings)

Julian Lynch — Rat’s Spit (Ya Reach / Underwater Peoples)

Juliana Hatfield — Weird (American Laundromat Records)

Kyle Crane — Crane Like A Bird (self-released)

Liz Brasher — Painted Image (Fat Possum Records)

Loi Loi — Me: Dystopia (Blight Records)

Lost Under Heaven — Love Hates What You Become (Mute Records)

Maggie Rogers — Heard It In A Past Life (Capitol Records)

Malibu Ken (Aesop Rock and Tobacco) — Malibu Ken (Rhymesayers Entertainment)

Mike Posner — A Real Good Kid (Universal Island Records)

Night Beats — Myth Of A Man (Heavenly)

OOMPH! — Ritual (Napalm Records)

Papa Roach — Who Do You Trust? (Eleven Seven Music)

Pedro The Lion — Phoenix (Polyvinyl Record Co.)

Pierce Pettis — Father’s Son (Compass Records)

Polyenso — Year Of The Dog EP (Other People Records)

The Prescriptions — Hollywood Gold (His Songs)

Rich The Kid — The World is Yours 2 (Rich Forever Music)

Sharon Van Etten — Remind Me Tomorrow (Jagjaguwar)

The Steel Woods — Old News (Woods Music)

Steve Gunn — The Unseen In Between (Matador Records)

Steve Mason — About The Light (Double Six Records)

Switchfoot — Native Tongue (FanTasy)

Tender — Fear Of Falling Asleep (PTKF)

Toro Y Moi — Outer Peace (Carpark Records)

The Twilight Sad — It Won’t Be Like This All The Time (Rock Action)

Utkarsh Ambudkar — Vanity (self-released)

The Vegabonds — V (Blue Elan Records)

Whitehorse — The Northern South Vol. 2 (Six Shooter Records)

Wristmeetrazor — Misery Never Forgets (Prosthetic Records)

Young Culture — (This Is) Heaven (Equal Vision Records)

Friday, January 25

Backstreet Boys — DNA (RCA Records)

Balthazar — Fever (Play It Again Sam)

Black To Comm (Marc Richter) — Seven Horses For Seven Kings (Thrill Jockey)

Blood Red Shoes — Get Tragic (Jazz Life)

Bring Me The Horizon — Amo (RCA)

Charlene Soraia — Where’s My Tribe (Peacefrog Records)

Cold Weather Company — Find Light (self-released)

The Dandy Warhols — Why You So Crazy (Dine Alone Records)

DAWN (formerly Dawn Richard) — New Breed (Local Action Records)

Eerie Wanda — Pet Town (Joyful Noise Recordings)

Erlen Meyer — Sang et Or (Argonauta Records)

Fidlar — Almost Free (Mom + Pop Music)

Gin Annie — 100% Proof (self-released)

Incite — Built To Destroy (Minus Head Records)

Hecate Enthroned — Embrace Of The Godless Aeon (M-Theory Audio)

Hunt Sales — Get Your Shit Together (Big Legal Mess)

Juan Wauters — La Onda de Juan Pablo (The World Of Juan Pablo) (Captured Tracks)

Judiciary — Surface Noise (Closed Casket Activities)

Júníus Meyvant — Across The Borders (Glassnote Records)

Keuning (Dave Keuning of The Killers) — Prismism (Pretty Faithful)

Kid Koala — Music To Draw To: Io (Arts & Crafts)

LIP TALK — D A Y S (Northern Spy Records)

Lula Wiles — What Will We Do (Smithsonian Folkways Recordings)

Meghan Trainor — Treat Myself (Epic Records)

Michael Franti & Spearhead — Stay Human Vol. II (Boo Boo Wax)

Michael McArthur — Ever Green, Ever Rain (Dark River Records)

Mike Krol — Power Chords (Merge Records)

Mono — Nowhere Now Here (Temporary Residence Limited)

Mozes and The Firstborn — Dadcore (Burger Records)

My Diligence — Sun Rose (Mottow Soundz)

Norma — Female Jungle (Shortcuts)

Pavo Pavo — Mystery Hour (Bella Union)

Puppy — The Goat (Spinefarm Records)

Rat Boy — Internationally Unknown (Hellcat Records)

Rival Sons — Feral Roots (Atlantic Records)

Rosie Carney — Bare (Akira Records)

Royal Canoe — Waver (Paper Bag Records)

Sarah Louise — Nighttime Birds and Morning Stars (Thrill Jockey)

Say Anything — Oliver Appropriate (Dine Alone Records)

Skunk Anansie — 25LIVE@25 (V2 Records Benelux)

Slenderbodies — Soraya EP (Avant Garden)

Slow — Mythologiae (GS Productions)

Sneaks — Highway Hypnosis (Merge Revords)

Sound Of Sirens — This Time (DMF Records)

Steve Hackett — At The Edge Of Light (InsideOut Records)

Surachai — Come, Deathless (BL_K NOISE)

Swallow The Sun — When A Shadow is Forced Into The Light (Century Media Records)

Swervedriver — Future Ruins (Dangerbird Records)

Swindle — No More Normal (Brownswood Recordings)

Tesha — Growing Pain II EP (Sober Sorbet Recordings)

Toy — Happy In The Hollow (Tough Love Records)

Trapper Schoepp — Primetime Illusion (Xtra Mile Recordings)

Twain — 2 E.P.s (Keeled Scales)

White Fence — I Have To Feed Larry’s Hawk (Drag City)

William Tyler — Goes West (Merge Records)

Writhing Squares — Out Of The Ether (Trouble In Mind)

source https://uproxx.com/music/new-albums-coming-out-this-month-january-2019/

#hiphop #hip hop legend #hip hop history #hip hop #music #trending #hip hop news #ballin #hip hop scen

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