The “Women Of Scorpio” – Another Vintage Sexist Astrology Competition To Win!

Filed in Astro Gaga

What if just being an “oomph girl” with a vile temper WAS really appealing to men? The disembodied heads are freaky. Is our Lady of Scorpio a Voodoo Priestess?  You can win one of the prizes below (announced on Tuesday) by riffing off this image and concept in any way you like: a “Women Of Scorpio” story, your own Scorpio temper/”male appeal” anecdote or a god, anything really.

The prizes are below and i look forward to perusing your contributions in the comments!

Two years of Mega Mystic – access to the Horoscopes, Oracle, 12 Card Instant Tarot read (and soon, our second Tarot), the Daily Mystic email and Astro-Scheduler – for 24 months.

The magical Mercury Key Ring – opener of doors and inspirer of eloquence!

The Wealth Wallet – designed with as much alchemy, geomancy, Feng Shui & abundance symbolism as one super practical item can take.  Vegan Wallet Update: the prototype is being couriered to me next week. As this will be in cork material, it is important to see if it is actually sturdy enough to “hold” all of the WW features, the jasper zip thingie, the Qi coins etc. But…it’s progressing.


Access Horoscopes, Insta-Tarot, Oracle and More

All Access Membership – This is not a recurring payment – you are not locked in.

Email Mystic if you would like to trial for a few weeks first.

82 thoughts on “The “Women Of Scorpio” – Another Vintage Sexist Astrology Competition To Win!

  1. LOVE these….Thank you! The three winners – this time – are Wendy Michele for the 24 month Mega Mystic, Dark Star for a Mercurial Key Ring and MoonInThe12th for the Wealth Wallet….Please email so we can set this up and thank you to everyone for the wit and the whimsy once again!

  2. In a most recent Neptunian daze, something triggered her to take a trip down memory lane. Nostalgia would often cause her to drift off and visit the realm of past lives. In town to visit family for the holidays, passing through brought on visions of her awkward adolescence and the cast of characters in it.

    A feeling of repressed rage and resentment overcame her at the thought of the men who would fail to respect her power and reduce her to a mere sex thing. She was undoubtedly beautiful and voluptuous with a mysteriously intense personality to match…all ingredients that make one attractive whether they intend to be or not. A woman with “oomph”, if you will. An alchemist of a woman, having gone through many phases and past lives only to emerge from each better and stronger.

    As she reminisced, she saw the park where she and Joe: blond, sweet, caring, and very emotionally available Joe, sat on the swings for a talk she couldn’t hold back from him any longer. He was crazy about her, even planned on asking her to marry him, but she not so much about him. He bored her quite honestly -not enough passion, too much monotony and the idea of a man attempting to domesticate her was not something ideal to her at all- though she kept on in their relationship, silently simmering as she grew unhappier, not knowing how to tell him how she felt.

    Here, with one fell sting of words, like a scorpion going in for the kill, she told him frankly, she didn’t feel anything for him anymore. “Gods, I was such a bitch,” she murmured to herself, remembering the devastated look on his face and the twisted sense of satisfaction she got from it. She heard from a friend that Joe remains a bachelor to this day, perhaps because of her. And poof, his familiar awe strucken face disappeared.

    Onward, she passed by Burke Lake Park, a place she’d spent countless hours of her life at, quite famous for featuring an Eagle’s nest. A movement caught her eye, and she realized it was the Eagle herself flying high and proud, in all of her majestic glory. It made her recall the times she thought were her glory days. The days she finally began coming into her own, realizing her power, and doing the work to overcome that dark period, where she struggled to understand herself and believed love to be a game. She flourished, with her first big girl job, making big girl money, having her own big girl place. Dating, living, loving. Jack’s face suddenly danced in her head. He was a talented journalist and cunning as a fox. They worked together and found themselves in a relationship after months of flirtation, frequent glances from afar, and fascination by one another. Together, they lived big: drinking, dining, going to concerts and sporting events. Though Jack, healing from a relationship where he was cheated on, had her on a pedestal she came to resent being placed upon. A shell of a man, unhappy with his own life and refusing to do his own soul work, he projected his darkest demons onto her. On her birthday, in a heated 3am argument, triggered by some trivial nonsense, he broke up with her citing “she needed to get her shit together.” After shedding many tears, she would come to realize it was he who needed to get his shit together but she would prove him wrong anyway.

    At this point, after much reflection following this turning point, she could only smile about how strong it made her. It inspired her to look deep and hard at her life, leave what did not serve her behind, and embark on an entirely new journey toward her life’s calling. If anything, what transpired had been a blessing in disguise.

    Finally, she arrived at her destination. The gym. She had to work out in order to channel her energy and decompress after already having a bigger dose of her family than she could typically handle. She sat in the car and stared off for a moment, remembering a fling with the gym trainer, Clint, who was, what the kids call these days: a fuck boy.

    Against her own better judgement, she eventually gave in to his pretentious ways. “He was hot,” she confirmed to herself with a shrug. In spite of promises of being exclusive, she came to find out he had a girlfriend back in Arizona – not from him, but from a client of his. In a past life, she may have entertained such a scenario -the temptation of being a seductress, the thrill of an affair, the other woman fantasy.

    But no, she knew she was a queen and deserved better. It’s a wonder how she had not gone mad from this but if anything, the familiar flames of rejection consumed her and once more, reborn from the ashes like a phoenix, she remembered her worth and ghosted the hell out of that demon, never to speak with him again. She was very good at being a ghost.

    Consequently, there would be other fuck boy attempts yet this intital experience with Clint inspired her to focus her sexual energy on creative pursuits and realize that at that point in her life, men were a distraction. Celibacy suited her well as she went on to immerse herself in studying various subjects: herbalism, holistic medicine, witchcraft, the occult, astrology, and esoterica. She found the goddesses Ophiuchus, Kalima, Hecate, Isis, Lilith, Athenae, and countless others within her and a spirituality that had been so clouded by the fog she insisted upon herself. With her spirit guides protecting her, she would deflect those fuck boys left and right. Good riddance.

    Shaking her head, she snapped out of her daze. She looked up and noticed a man standing by her car staring at her. It was Clint, and he gave her a wave when he saw her notice him. With a smile, she waved back, turned her car back on, and pulled away. She drove back to the park she passed earlier.

    And among the trees, far away from all of the bullshit, she imagined herself running with wolves…

    (Based on true events…from experience of yours truly, a woman with mars in Scorpio :))

    • Interesting evolution of the self, a bit sad too and It makes you want to know what happens next in her journey to understanding her humanity!

      • I want to know what happens next, too but it is an adventure I am still writing. 🙂

        I forgot to mention how good a man she realized Joe really was and had she worked on things with him, perhaps it all would have gone different. I don’t think she would have truly discovered herself though.

        And Clint, ooh boy. For a brief moment, after finding out that horrid news, she saw red and sat in her car and screamed so loud the gods above and below heard. She thought of giving him a piece of mind, that’s for sure. Prior to evolving, the Scorpio would have stung.

        I rewrote this a bit for my blog (thanks for this fun prompt, mystic…and inspiring me to keep on this writing flow I’m rekindling) …just a friendly feedback: editing would be lovely. I saved you all from reposting this long thing again hah ^_^

  3. One of my best friends is a Scorpio, she’s a triple black-belt in karate, certified lifeguard, plays multiple instruments, took calculus in university for the “easy” grades, and had a job at 28 that mid-career doctors typically do. She was dating a fellow karate student (who was dreamy and is now an architect) when we were in high school and admitted to using some of the karate on him during drunken fights. In university during a single phase she lamented to me that no matter how hot a guy was, she could have them if she made a pass at them and this seemed to disappoint her.

    The Scorpio women I know present as very capable and sweet (like a Martha Stewart vibe), are happily coupled and direct their oomph to their partners in a very loyal way, but in terms of their temper if someone tries to mess with them/their men/their loved ones, there is serious trouble.

  4. The concept of shags through the scopes for all it’s titular appeal had failed to serve her well.

    Misunderstood, mistaken and millions of eyes and yet still she could not find satisfaction.

    Was it the watery appeal of Mummy issues that drove them to her bosom? Her contemplation was always running and that lead her to fateful choices.
    She was seen as someone who could please and she was a tease when the desire did strike.

    Deep down she wanted to be loved but didn’t know how to forgive herself. Her legend grew beyond anything she could control and she didn’t mind. Getting out of her mind helped her to focus on the uncharted characteristics of her sexuality.

    Her demon days carried long into the night and became the stuff of many fantasies.

  5. They just wish they could get with her/ understand her. Scorp chicks are nothing to be controlled! Go Madame Scorp for telling those sexist guys to eff off. Not like they would be very good in bed, anyway. Scorp girls need a man who can last, but who can also go for depth as she needs to transform again and again and again. These asshats can take it though. There is just something about her. She is so sexy and they can’t figure out why. But she will never just be their play-thing, so they gotta hate.

  6. So this story probably confirms Scorpio stereotypes more than anything. But here goes!

    In my teens and twenties I didn’t realize I hated myself, so instead I spent my time chasing after/dating men who would do the job for me. First in line was my college boyfriend, whom I dated my senior year after four years of exciting/irritating flirtation.

    It ended badly. Of course it did! I chased him so hard there was no way he could live up to my expectations. He was also an unrepentant sexist dillhole, but he was also charming, well-read, and he had amazing hair. And a great body.

    Anyways. So he dumped me the week before my 21st birthday, BUT we still had to work together and see each other quite often (same circle of friends, etc.) I wrote him a very lengthy email explaining why this couldn’t be and why we needed to set up some boundaries, etc. It’s embarrassing to admit that I got this advice from Glamour magazine, but there you go–I was very impressionable and worse than clueless about relationships.

    He disregarded my requests. My emails–in length and tone–es. Ca. LATED.

    Now, one continuous bone of contention between us was that he was always telling me to relax. With the benefit of hindsight, I can see that he had a point. In the words of my personal household goddess, RuPaul, I was too GD sensitive about everything, all the time. However, I maintain that men telling women to relax is a classic example of what would now be called a microaggression. I didn’t have that vocabulary back then, so I used to tell him (at top volume) that it was demeaning, patriarchal BS to use that word, evoking as it did Victorian-era impressions of “hysterical” and inconsequential women.

    You can see how we were never going to work, right?

    Anyways, this goes on for a while. One warmish sprping night at the library I was studying with my roommate, and I took an email break to try and fully, completely explain why I was upset over some dumb thing he’d done. Two minutes later, I get back a reply.

    It’s a single word: RELAX. In 16 pt font, centered in the middle of the screen.

    Part of me had to applaud the pure shade of it all. The other part of me ran out of the library (leaving all my bags and laptop there, thank god for my roommate) and stormed across campus, in the dark, in a not-terribly-safe town. The two mile walk did NOT cool me down. Every step seemed to add to the all-encompassing and volcanic rage welling up from my entrails.

    I got to his apartment. Walked up the steps. Knocked on his door. And when he opened it, I delivered a roundhouse, Joan Crawford-style slap: the kind where the hand imprint turns white and all the surrounding flesh turns red from the concurrent blood flow. It felt amazing–until he slapped me back, although his was more of a brisk tap. Mine was definitely an open-handed blow. If I’d had my fist closed, I would’ve broken his nose.

    Six months later, I slept with his best friend.

    *Less satisfying addendum: three years later, all was completely forgiven. We ran into each other at a party thrown by mutual friends and he did something really lovely and unexpected: he apologized for all his crappy behavior and I apologized for hitting him and blowing things out of proportion, as I was wont to do during our relationship. We ended up becoming friends again and I attended his wedding (quite happily) five years after that. I also made a point of wearing the sexiest dress I could find and made out with a groomsman. Possibly a groomswoman. I was quite drunk.

    • Oh boy. This was a fun story –at least the way it ended! It would be nice all the drama in our lives ended like this, with apologies, friendship, a wedding, and making out.

    • As a merc and sun aries someone telling me to ‘relax’ can mean… calm down so we can actually talk this through, great let’s talk … or it can mean ‘stand down’, Now thats definitely a micro aggression and how many of those little jabs to the belly do you want to endure ? 10 -20 ? After one I’m preparing my verbal Exocet for no.2 🙂 Or ‘relax’ can mean STFU !… It’s slapping time.

      • Yep yep yep. And when the word is consistently accompanied by an eye-roll and a condescending smirk, it’s basically a flashing neon sign that says, “Why are you dating this human pinky ring again?”

      • Except when it’s a double gemini csncerian with mood management issues and you have to ice them at every opportunity otherwise they drive you fuxking insane with their over entitled acts of ego reinforcement 🙂

    • Bravo! Love the slap on the face. There are times I wish I could have been so bold. “Relax” is only ok when I tell myself to do it!

  7. This is a Pauline Hanson election poster, non ? Fits perfectly with her campaign to return Australia to the blind racism, blatant sexism and mono culture of the 50s. She is probably the most powerful woman in Australian politics, and a fine example of how feminism may have no greater enemy than women of her ilk. She is very popular with men though cause she’s obviously pretty hot 🙂

    • Those of your ‘own house’ are usually your worst enemies. Maybe Weinstein and Hanson could get it together? Swallow that with a croissant and indigestion.

    • Jeezuz davidl, you are spot ON, man! she does look like a young PH.

      AND PH has a Scorpio Asc. With Saturn ON the AsC exact!

      PLUS her Lilith is in Scorpio! ….

      You got my vote.

      (The shitty thing is that now i can’t think of my own story coz all i see is her. Yuk.)

  8. Oriane, pictured above is leaning over her satinized leather upholstered chaise lounge..

    He day job is a taxidermist, but shed privately honed her own taxidermy craft and practiced upon men who crossed her.

    Earlier that evening she’d been on a date with a man whom, by the time the appetizers had arrived, had proved himself to be yet another bouphish* mantle piece. But Oriane was tired, not quite on her A-game to make a steamy dramatic exit and this guy wasn’t SO offensive as to give a full battered assault to her senses.

    However, when he’d driven her home and walked her to the door, out came the hooks in full force. His arms wrapped around her, his mouth insisting that their bedsheet union was fated, necessary, divinely ordered, yadda yadda yadda. Oriane really didn’t feel like working tonight, but then he said it. ‘I can do things to you, you’d never imagine…things you didn’t even know you wanted…’

    Oriane snapped inside, she could feel the rage well up inside of her wanting to come out through her mouth in a cascade of melted wax to devour this walking dick and turn him into a wick. Staring up at him, a blatant death glare in her eyes, that he, just like the others, took to be a match to his passion.

    With oomph, she grabbed him by his tie, reinforcing it with her own energy so that it wouldn’t tear as she dragged him inside. He was into it until his feet came out from under him and she was now actually dragging him down the hall, then he was alarmed.

    With strength impossible for any human she swung him up like a windmill blade and he landed on a bed. For a moment his initial arousal returned until he saw before him a huge fireplace, bigger than the apartment could possibly hold. He was frozen in terror at the sight of two male heads mounted above it…

    By morning Oriane was gazing fondly upon her latest work. Her new sinewy fleshed out sheets, while her new and third mantle piece beautifully mounted itself above her fireplace.

  9. She looked in the mirror at the pathetic faces of the good boy’s club near the doorway behind her. Smiling, with their ‘too good to be true’ smiles. They reminded her of children that needed her constant attention. She was partly snarling, with innocent eyes while trying to decide what to do with them. She wanted to cut off their heads.

  10. Mallory was a stone cold fox, known for having a voodoo vagina. When she found out the guy she was seeing kissed another woman at a party they were both at, she slashed all his tyres. After he stayed the night at hers, servicing her every desire, of course.

  11. She looked over her shoulder and thought which man she would trap first. After all, its no fun being a scorpio unless there’s a heavy amount of male game.

  12. In the witching hour of Halloween the ghost men come calling from years gone past playing with my shallow dreams.

    I woke to see the echo of their faces printed on the walls and my mind quickly pushed away their endings as in true Scorpio form I had really just wanted to forget them though there was a few i would never forgive..

    I ponder as the night sky grows lighter about their parting words as I have always thought of myself as kind but with a flash of my eyes I often give away my true feelings. I wish i could wear my dark sunglasses in the office to keep up the disguise.

    It is so hard being misunderstood..

  13. I wanted to leave a comment about Scorpio women. However. They’re full of secrets. Wrapt in plastic. Was Laura Palmer a Scorpio?

  14. my nonbinary femme scorpio partner has quite the oomph & has had to fend off the disembodied heads of patriarchy quite often. one time they were in a train station and quite lost, but the man of whom they were asking directions to the nearest airport bus could not seem to be persuaded to yield any information as he was apparently too busy staring at their lowish-cut blue wrap shirt-clad torso. when they finally got home they exclaimed to me: I am never wearing this top again!!! … guess our scorpio gals are ill-tempered to want to move efficiently through the world like the rest of us mortals…

  15. I have a stellium in scorpio and i have never appealed to males. i wish i had’ve been. These things cant always be true

    • Good for you, ScorpintheSky! I feel sure there are Scorps who have never been desired or in a relationship, and yet delude themselves into believing they’re smoking hot just because of their astro.

      Like you, I am a Scorp sun. But I never had a boyfriend or dated, and I married the first man who asked me. I’ve been married 30+ years and in all that time, no man has ever shown signs of wanting to have an extra-marital fling with me.

      So– what’s up with that, astro-fiends? Did being in 12H “drown” my Sun’s mojo? Did Neptune (conjunct my sexy Scorp sun) cover up my hotness in seven veils and wrap me up like a nun? Who knows?

      Funny story: I was taking French. The teacher was into astro and asked each student to talk about their sun sign. When she came to me and I said “Scorpio,” she did a double-take. Then she asked me “Which part of November were you born in?” (I could tell she was hoping I was in the cusp!) I replied with “Smack in the middle!” and you could almost see it –her belief in astro wobbling like a tree in a windstorm.

      ScorpintheSky, I say the hell with “Sexy” Scorpio — if that is all Scorpios have to be proud of. To me, what shines about your Scorpio stellium is your willingness to look the truth in the eye and tell it like it is.

      • Thanks Sagitta. I am proud of my honesty. And I know a tonne of super hot people whose dearest wish is a 30 year long marriage. Straddling both things I think is key.

      • Yes I agree this forced acting sexy is not honest, it is an act. Scorpios that aren’t preoccupied with self conscious awareness of their sensuality 24/7 are normal people too. I value Scorpio cunning, keen perception and depth over churning root chakras any day lol.

  16. The fuquery that happens when we forget the monthly dark moon Feng Shui vagina ritual. Annoyingly batting away bodiless male apparitions like mosquitos, the ghosts of ousted conquests past.

  17. She could feel them.

    She knew they were thinking about her.

    One was at home, with his wife and children secretly remembering what has transpired between them on Monday.

    Another was a good ol boy. Dangerously out of his depth, but she hadn’t let him know that yet. She didn’t want to spoil the innocent way he looked at her. Something always changed once she let them in further.

    The third was the most unattainable and yet the one that she held to the tightest. Would he return from his voyage safely? She knew he had been unfaithful since he had left her doorstop that morning, yet, so had she. Had she met her match? Or was she just bored?

  18. Having an anti-fart blanket was not enough to dissuade unwanted male suitors. They pursued even more relentlessly, even as floating heads in the astral plane so they could visit her in her sleep. The men might be head over heels in love with Miss Scorpio but they know they stand no chance in defeating the croc infested moat around the villa nor the random security guards that patrolled with trained hyenas that a real visit might entail. Better to voyuer at a safe distance.

  19. As a female Scorpio, Calidor read the delightful vintage vignette above about her Scorpio sisters and seethed while she thoughtlessly transmitted lethal levels of sexiness at innocent male passersby.

    It just needed a bit of a tweak to read “Scorpio women have the worst tempers BECAUSE they have the most appeal to males.”

  20. Hanging out of the weighbridge window on a random, hot, funky afternoon all boobs, eyes (sorry Kataka moon & asc here) saying to the fella’s “your paying commercial rate to dump your domestic rubbish in that big tipper you thought was for free”. But, but…
    I know what you thought but I’m thinking if you keep looking at the boobs I’m going to go you with a butter knife I have handy on the sink.

  21. Greta, hard at work on the building site shifting rocks, felt a relentless tugging on her white-lit energy shield. She sighed wearily, pushing back her damp, dark curls, as she clocked that it was time to take the head of yet another of her etheric predators.

    She kept the etheric heads in protoplasma in a phantasmic-fibro-cell plastic jar so they didn’t dissolve into Source code.

    If the more harmless predators were no longer in her life she would release their heads back to their energy fields. If Greta sensed they were really dangerous to others, she stored them in a matrix of energy she had purpose-created in her lucid dreaming.

    Greta had been accused of having a filthy temper – but in her view she just had great boundaries and the confidence to maintain those boundaries!

    Without looking over her shoulder she heard the pre-diabetic heavy breathing of her co-worker Phil. Unlucky Phil, she thought.
    “Oomph”, she puffed as she threw another volcanic rock into the skip.

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