✨Uses for yucca in witchcraft✨
🌵 as fiber rolled into thread for knot magic, witches ladders, and binding
🌵 a single spear/leaf as athame, wand or ritual knife
🌵 spines or sawtoothed spears in witch jars, protection magic, and curses
🌵 soap yuccas in cleansing magic. Yucca soap as spell ingredient akin to Rosemary or salt.
🌵 flowers in spells involving protection, luck, dreams and the astral
🌵 Joshua tree yuccas in strength/survival magic. Also for spells fueling change
🌵 yucca gathered from graveyards (common urban use, for some reason) in death magic or spirit work


Title: Ride With Me - part eight
Serie’s prompt: Alternate Universe (AU) in which the reader is a horse rider who goes to a ranch in Arizona to gain work experience. During her time on the ranch she develops a strong connection with a wrangler and horse trainer named Dean. A story about a cowboy who falls for the girl, a story about the importance of family.
Prompt part 8: The day starts wonderful with a cattle break out, keeping the crew busy in the early hours. It’s turns out to be an omen of what to come, because as the day progresses, the day only gets worse. Then Ash gets the news and doesn’t take losing his job too well.
Words: 5115 words
Characters: Dean, Jo, Ash, Bobby, Ellen, Benny, Garth, Rufus Turner, Reader
Pairings: Dean x reader (not in this part yet, but I’m getting there!)
Warnings: language, heavy argument, angst(ish), drama
Author’s note: I just cannot be able to keep these chapters short, but who cares. This chapter is different from the other ones, heavier and a little more drama. I hope you enjoy! 
Tags: Below the story. Want to get tagged? Send me a message!
Previous parts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

7.30 AM, Monday morning. Several hundred hooves tremble the ground. Earthily colored dust has turned into dark mud overnight as the heavens unleashed a rainstorm that still hasn’t stopped coming down. The cattle moohs restless, anxiously trying to stick together as the herd. A dog barks over the sound of it all, his enthusiastic calls trumped by the shouts and whistles of the wranglers.
  “Yah!”, Dean shouts, cutting off young stock that threatens to fan out.
Droplets as big as marbles come down, the water that pools in the brim of his hat pours down whenever he tips it forward. It’s still cold this morning, now that there is no sunshine to burn the night away. The long leather coat he’s wearing protects him from that, but the rain started coming through the seems on his shoulders and elbows two hours ago and a steady drip down his neck has drenched his shirt already. Dean has been in the saddle since four O'clock, ever since the thunder woke him up and an eerie gut feeling began to unsettle him. Something was wrong, he felt it in his bones. As he stepped out onto the porch, shrugging on his coat and putting on his ivory colored Sheplers hat, he immediately noticed the distressed young stock on the other side of the fence than where they were supposed to be. Apparently the cattle panicked in the thunderstorm, took down a gate and escaped the pen, splitting the herd in two. They were absolutely all over the place. With a buyer coming in at 9 AM, he had to gather the two hundred cows and bulls fast if he wanted to turn off a financial disaster. So here they are; wet through, tired and miserable, trying to maneuver their horses on the slick surface. A perfect start for this dreadful Monday.

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