#Christmas was stolen from the pagans

[adumpofdumbstuff]

Long story that I couldn’t cover in the tags below the cut:

I had a hunch for years, ever since I was like 6-8 that Santa was either not real or kinda stupid. I remember asking for a present one year (a playset of a sort) and I got a different one and that’s when my faith was shaken. Then a later year I got something I wanted that I never mentioned to my parents, so then I started believing in Santa again. I didn’t suspect the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy. My parents always seemed clueless as to the whereabouts of the eggs and I’m a light sleeper so I couldn’t see one of my parents sneaking into my room at night. One Easter, it took me a whole month to find the last egg. Would Mom put me through that torture?

When I was 15, I just decided to ask my mom and after a bit of prying, I made her admit it. Both of my parents were my Santa and they were each others’ Santas. I asked her about the egg. “If it was high up, it was one Dad hid.” “It wasn’t high, it was in a basket under the table.” “I’m a bad bunny.” she said.

And then she had a few interesting stories about sneaking into my room as the Tooth Fairy.

So yeah it took me a while to really figure it out but I did.

Afterwards I insisted on also pitching in partially as my parents’ Santa by going to a store with a budget and buying the things, and I’d sneak in some things I wanted too and I’d just hide it all in a bag. It was a good way to practice spending money, as I wasn’t that much of a buying-stuff kid. Most of the stuff I got was through my birthday or Christmas, and if it wasn’t, it was new clothes my mom ordered.

[a-persistent-cat]

The best part of Christmas is knowing it’s only one day a year, and I have a whole 365 days until I have to deal with it again.

That being said, I hope you enjoyed, are enjoying, or will enjoy whatever holidays you celebrate.

[cozyesoterica]

I hate November because you have to listen to all the exhausting Lisa Simpson lib childfree atheist people whine about objectively delightful Christmas music and decorations.

[gundh4m-t4n4k4]

"Halloween is just a commerical holiday, I don't even celebrate it"

"I can't wait to spend hundreds of dollars on presents and decorations for Christmas"

[sag-dab-sar]

Dear pagans, polytheists, and witches:

It is okay to celebrate Christmas.

Its okay to celebrating it as a non-Christian.

But you HAVE to accept and admit that it is a culturally Christian holiday.

In many culturally Christian countries you have to be cognizant of how Christmas is elevated above other religion's holidays.

Stop claiming every aspect of it is something stolen from ancient societies: bringing in trees, decorating with lights, gift giving— or whatever else you attribute to the "paganness" of Christmas with no legitimate sources.

Christmas was not stolen from the ancients and you cannot "reclaim it" by spreading pseudo-historical bullshit.

Just admit you will celebrate a culturally Christian holiday— its okay to admit that and move on.

[Edit: see my reblog of this for some basic sources to begin with]

[Edit 2: More info]

[Edit 3: I wrote a post about why you should accept/admit it as Culturally Christian and now that its Dec 25 I'mma just shut off reblogs for this, if you celebrated Christmas I hope you enjoyed it.]

[sserpente]

A/N: Requests from anon and @slaveforloki​. You might wanna take a shower after this one. If you noticed the font in the image being different… I forgot I don’t have Photoshop on my computer in Austria anymore I didn’t take my laptop with me so I had to do it with an online editor, ugh! Try to ignore it! :D RC is not a virgin in this Imagine as originally requested, at least it’s not mentioned but I have another Christmassy one planned with that, so I hope this one will be fun regardless, I didn’t wanna post two so similar ones back to back! Could I resist adding this new gif? No, absolutely not. I’m so hyped for Season 2.

Words: 2826 Warnings: forced marriage, smut

Additonal NSFW warnings: CMNF, orgasm denial, orgasm control, arguably a little bit of dub-con, definitely angry sex

-

You’d do it, officially. You would hate Christmas for the rest of your life. Loki had made sure of that. With a deep sigh, you straightened your green dress—one of the maids had chosen it for you because it was Loki’s colour—and lifted your chin. You refused to let him see how much he had hurt you. How he had ruined your life, shattered it to pieces by claiming you as a bride, forcing you to become his wife all because he was now king of Asgard.

You weren’t even royalty—not wholly, anyways. Your father was the second-born prince of the king of Alfheim but your mother had been a commoner. Human. You had no royal duties, no obligation to rule a kingdom one day. You had lived a life in freedom—up until Loki had claimed you like a prized possession.

You remembered the dark prince of Asgard. The second-born mischievous God of Chaos had been mysterious and charming the first time you had met him at a ball a few years back. But that was before the rumours about him attempting to subjugate Midgard had the branches of Yggdrasil sway with the quick footsteps of Ratatöskr.

The wedding had been yesterday—on Christmas Eve. Now officially, Alfheim did not celebrate the Christian holiday, regardless of its stolen aspects from ancient paganism. But you had visited Midgard often enough yourself to grow to love the holiday, not to mention how much your mother had adored it before she passed. You’d been looking forward to decorating and buying Christmas gifts for your loved ones and now here you were: stuck in King Loki’s chambers after a forced but oddly passionate kiss after the ceremony. A few weeks had passed since then and needless to say you had not consummated the marriage just yet.

You had been fuming already, you would have torn him to pieces if he had dared put a hand on you… and… you were pretty sure he was very well aware of that. And while he was the most dominant man that had ever stepped into your life, he respected that. For now. You hated the part of yourself that longed for him to rip your clothes off your body, throw you on the bed and fuck you until you forgot everything but his name.

If Loki was one thing beside an arrogant and power-hungry king, he was handsome. You had noticed it at the ball already. Back then, you would have wished for him to sweep you off your feet. Now, however, your anger suffocated every other feeling you could have possibly harboured for him. Desiring him physically made that wrath even stronger. You would never admit that to him though.

As if your thinking about him had summoned him, Loki barged into his chambers only mere moments later. His quick and confident steps had you tense up, even more so when his stunning blue gaze met yours.

“So you haven’t forgotten about your waiting wife then.” Loki rolled his eyes at you.

“You are not a prisoner in my chambers. You are free to roam the palace and the realm—as long as a guard accompanies you.”

“I had no need for a guard before I was married to you.”

“Consider it an additional perk.”

“Right,” you spat. “And what exactly are the other perks of you asking me for my hand in marriage and not accepting a no?”

For just the fraction of a second, Loki was surrounded by a green shimmering light. The next time you blinked, he had swapped his regal attire for some more comfortable clothes.

“It will reinforce the alliance between Alfheim and Asgard. The kingdom of Alfheim is already very suspicious of me,” he explained as if it was the most logical thing in the nine realms.

“For good reason, Loki.”

“Don’t you dare lecture me. You don’t know anything about what happened. So watch your tongue.”

Fuming, you clenched your fists. “Why me then? Why not any of my half-sisters?”

“Most of them have been promised to others already. One of them to a king in Niflheim, the other to the current princess of Svartalfheim, now that Malekith is dead. Besides, you are part-human. That makes you a valuable pawn to assure my peaceful intentions.”

“Peaceful? Your intentions are anything but peaceful.”

“Are they not?” He tilted his head, making your lower regions clench. Then, he gave you a just the tiniest hint of a smirk. “I do not recall you being present at your council meeting earlier, dear. I very much doubt you get to have a say about any of my intentions.”

“You forced me to marry you!”

“Your father was thrilled and all too eager to send you to Asgard, to me.” Loki looked you dead in the eye, a mocking tone playing in his smooth voice. “Do you truly believe I wish to be married to a bastard daughter of a king? A woman who is half human? You should consider yourself lucky to be by my side rather than resent me for it.”

“Lucky? Lucky?” you screeched. “You ruined my life! You came to Alfheim and drowned everything in chaos! I was free before you claimed me like an object!”

“Please… freedom is life’s great lie,” Loki responded sharply.

“And on Christmas of all days! You decided to wed on Christmas! You have no idea how much this holiday meant to my mother and now you’ve spoiled it, you selfish and arrogant prick!”

“Watch your tone with me!”

“I will not! You made me marry you, now you’re going to deal with what you claimed!”

Loki’s blue eyes widened. It was barely noticeable but it didn’t escape you regardless.

“Where does that new-found passion for hostility come from? You have been awfully quiet over the last few weeks, pet.”

Pet. “I’m not your fucking pet. Heavens, you are so irritating!”

“Well, so are you! A spoiled child who knows nothing of love and life!”

“Me? I’m the spoiled child? My mother was human and I lived a very humble life before you tossed me into his palace. You were the one born with a silver spoon in your mouth!”

“Do not speak of things you do not understand.”

“Stop patronising me!” You were both screaming at this point. You couldn’t really care less about what the servants outside of Loki’s chambers must have been thinking. They could know you were not here voluntarily.

Loki strutted towards you, a menacing and threatening expression on his handsome face. You pressed your thighs together, standing your ground on your “shared” bed. You did not move away an inch. Not until he came to a halt right before you, so much so you had to look up to meet his stare.

“You need to stop talking,” he breathed quietly. Too quiet. “Ungrateful brat…” He muttered under his breath. But he was just loud enough for you to hear him. It almost seemed like he was trying to hold back. From what, you were unsure. Lashing out? Throwing you out? Getting physical? You swallowed thickly, your mind jumping to an image where Loki threw you over his knees, grabbed a fistful of your dress to reveal your bare bottom and spanked you for your mouth. It infuriated you even more.

“I fucking hate you!” you screamed at him, sitting up so you came to kneel on the bed. One second passed in which Loki narrowed his eyes at you… in the next… his lips were on yours.

Fire rippled through you, hot flushes blackening your vision. Your eyes fell shut, the sensation of his mouth moving against yours stealing away your ability to think straight. As if your body turned against you, your arms came up to wrap around his neck, allowing him to take a hold of your hips. Possessively, he pulled you flush against his body, his muscles rubbing against your chest hardening your nipples.

“I wish I could hate you, Earth girl” he muttered when he pulled away, stroking your hot cheek with his thumb. Your lips parted. And then you finally realised. He desired you. He’d always desired you and the fact that he did… it made him furious. You drove each other mad—and yet together you could be unstoppable.

Breathing heavily, you refused to respond to his confession and instead buried your fingers in his hair to kiss him again. Fuck it all for now. Fuck him. Right now, preferably. Even angrier at him now for making you so flustered for him, you growled, feral like a kitten when he pushed you away with a start. You landed on the mattress, bouncing up and down once before he was on top of you, his blue eyes filled with hunger.

Loki grabbed two fistfuls of your dress. You shrieked when he tore it straight off, exposing your naked body to his greedy gaze. Asgardians didn’t bother with underwear much and the maid had refused to let your wear your bra because it “didn’t go well with the dress”. Now, all you could think about was easy access.

A moan escaped your lips when he cupped your breasts in his hands, kneading them firmly and playing with your nipples until you arched your back for him. You threw your head back then, and he attacked your neck, suckling, biting, licking… Unable to form any functioning sentences, you breathed his name.

“Fucking arsehole…” His chuckle went right through you, tightening that delicious knot forming in your lower stomach and… you could practically feel yourself getting wet for him.

“I will make you beg for my cock, pet. You can try and hate me all you want but that delicious body of yours doesn’t lie. I can see it in your eyes. And I shall make it worth your while.”

Before you could muster both the courage and the smugness to counter his irritating arrogance, he kissed you again, soft hands travelling down to your hips to hook his fingers into the seam of your knickers. He ripped them clean off, making you curse.

“That was the last fucking pair I heard from Midgard!”

“You are my wife. This sad excuse of underwear is nothing compared to the lingerie I will have you wear from now on. Be glad it’s gone.”

“You don’t get to decide what I w—“ Another kiss, even more passionate than the last. His tongue slipped into your mouth, battling yours for dominance.

“Oh yes, I do. You are mine now. And you will feel like a goddess with what I will pick for you.” Attempting to shake your head failed miserably when his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed lightly. Your pussy clenched around nothing. Great. He’d discovered a new kink too, now. Arsehole.

The grunt that left your lips made him chuckle once more. Oh, he knew fully well what he was doing to you and how it made you fight your own body. But it was no use. Loki used his free hand to roll his trousers down his thighs, just enough to free his erect member. It sprung free with its tip leaking precum. Loki pushed his hips against you, cock sliding between your nether lips and brushing against your clit.

“Oh, fuck…” you whined, digging your fingernails into his clothed back until he snatched your wrists and pinned them down next to your head. He thrust forward again, teasing your clit and making you buck your hips.

“Oh, just fuck me already!”

Loki tilted his head, smirking down at you. “Now that is hardly how you speak to your husband who happens to rule the realm you reside in, now is it?”

“You’re an arsehole, Loki! I’m not begging!”

“You are not going to beg your husband?”

“No! Fuck off!”

“Fine. Then you are not coming.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You are not coming until I give you permission.”

“As if you could stop me.”

Loki raised an eyebrow and you swallowed. Challenge accepted, his expression appeared to say. And then, without any further forewarning, he plunged himself inside of you, making you moan loudly enough for his servants outside to hear. You could only imagine them blushing, except if he had charmed the room to contain any indecent noises.

He gave you no time to adjust to his length but instead began railing you as if he was going to starve to death if he didn’t. His grip around your wrists tightened, even more so when you wriggled beneath him, unable to decide between meeting his thrusts by bucking your hips and moving away because the stimulation was almost too much to bear.

It was then you felt it. The invisible force on your clit, teasing, kneading, massaging, playing you like an instrument. Loki was using his seidr to work you up, fast. And while you desperately wanted to stop your arousal from growing to not give him the satisfaction of being able to drive you straight to orgasm, to not have him control your pleasure, your body longed for more, longed for him.

It took him another minute, his rhythmic thrusts deliciously controlled, almost hitting your cervix, and you were on the verge of falling off that relaxing cliff your cunt was craving so bad.

And just like that… the stimulation stopped and Loki angled himself in a way that would keep you on the edge but not quite get you there.

“Are you fucking serious, you arrogant… ahh…” His own grunts only fuelled your arousal, his heavy breathing sounding like music in your ears.

“Beg me,” he demanded hoarsely.

“Fuck… you!”

Loki chuckled. He let go of your wrists for a moment only to grab your thighs and haul your legs over his shoulders so your bottom was slightly elevated. His next thrust was so deep you screamed with pleasure.

And then that delicious treatment on your clit continued, working you up once more. Higher and higher, closer and closer… and then it disappeared again, just before you could jump. Loki continued this sweet torture all the while he kept fucking you senseless.

“You have no idea how long I have been craving to claim that sweet quim of yours, to have you beneath me, screaming my name.”

“I hate you!” The exclamation was half-hearted. Both he and you heard it. Because you didn’t. You were crazy for this man ever since you had met him at that damned ball all those years back.

Loki chuckled in response. “Oh no, you don’t…”

You were unsure for long he kept playing with your body as if it were an instrument. Was it minutes? Hours? All you knew was that Loki kept his promise. He didn’t let you cum all the while he kept filling you up until his seed was leaking out of you, staining both the bed and your inner thighs. His stamina was incredible, your whole body had turned into jelly at this point. Weak and almost in trance, you fought for your release until you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“P-please… Loki… p-please let me cum. I… I can’t… it’s getting too much… please…” Swallowing your pride, you looked him deep in the eye, your anger almost doubling the more his mischievous grin grew.

Loki had lost his clothes by now. His naked chest was glistening with sweat, his raven hair sticking to his skin. He tilted his head, stilling inside of you for just a heartbeat.

“That is all I wished to hear, pet.”

You growled in response, moments before his seidr went back to work and he sped up his rhythm. Only this time… this time Loki didn’t stop until finally, you fell. Never before had you experienced such a strong climax. The build-up, the edging and the constant denial had turned you into a feisty animal. Screaming your heart out, you let the pleasure consume you, your orgasm electrifying you from the inside out. Again and again, you pulsed around him, demanding yet another release from Loki.

He came inside of you one last time, face buried in your neck and feasting on your sensitive skin. You whimpered when he bit your neck as if he wished to mark you and then, once your high had finally subsided, he collapsed on top of you and let go of your wrists. You kept them on the mattress none the less, too weakened to bring yourself to slap him for teasing you like that. If you did… he’d probably spank you there and then. Your poor pussy clenched yet again. Oh, fuck…

“So tell me… do you truly hate me?” he murmured smugly, his hot breath brushing against your ear.

“I’m still contemplating,” you shot back, closing your eyes. You guessed you could learn to tolerate him and give in to your feelings. But only if he fucked you like that again.

-

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story! If you did, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me and my writing on Kofi!

I finally, OMG, released my first novel! You can find all info about it in the Linktree in my bio! <3

Now, time for some mulled wine!

[spacelazarwolf]

every white neopagan who tells me that “christmas was stolen from pagans!!!!!!” every time i try to talk about having christmas shoved in my face as a jew owes me $100.

[traegorn]

Hey-o! Tis the season for people to talk about how the holidays were "actually pagan" and I'm on the hunt for sources about how that's really not the case, if you have any you'd recommend!

Okay, so the problem is there are so many weird "Christmas is stolen!" bullshit memes going around, it's so hard to just give you a comprehensive list of sources. Christmas celebrations have evolved as the religion has spread, and different things come from different times...

The key here is to go for academic sources. This is a question of history, and a well supported historical research is going to tell you whether they're operating from primary, secondary or tertiary sources.

So while I can't give you a simple list, let me give you a couple of examples off the top of my head and give you tips on how to investigate any the dumb claims that get passed around.

Christmas being in December: So a lot of people go for the "Christmas is in December so it can steal from [INSERT SOLSTICE CELBRATION]" is ahistorical... because we know exactly why Christmas is in December. Because the guys who made the decision argued with each other and left behind written documentation. The two big names you need to look up are  Clement of Alexandria (who pitched January 6th) and Hippolytus of Rome (who proposed December 25th). This is around the turn of the third century, and you can find both of their writings. Some folks have questioned the authenticity of some of Hippolytus of Rome's writings, but Clement of Alexandria's seem well supported. These were internal arguments about when the birth of Christ took place within the early church, and when they settled on late December. There are reasons for this, and you can read their arguments (it largely has to do with the importance of when Jesus was conceived -- they wanted that to be an important date and then added nine months to it). Importantly though, because linear time is a thing, this means Christmas was set in December before the Christianization of the Germanic and Norse tribes... so anyone who says Christmas was set to December to correspond with Yule doesn't understand the concept of "coincidences."

The Christmas Tree: The Christmas tree was invented in 16th century Germany. That's... that's just written down all over the place. Now, there are legends about Martin Luther being the first who did it -- but I'm pretty certain that's just an embellishment that got added on. There are preceding traditions where part of an evergreen was brought into the home as a part of solstice traditions (though some will claim the Egyptians did this? Which is wild -- likely misinterpreting their use of palm fronds as the same thing), but the act of taking a whole ass tree, cutting it down, putting it in your house, and decorating it? That's 16th century Germany all the way. You can rabbit hole so many sources on that one, but honestly just pick apart the citations on the Wikipedia page. Putting a branch in your house and dragging a whole tree in are very different acts.

Jesus's story is copied from [INSERT RANDOM GOD]: There are so many of these, and some are just downright disrespectful to major world religions (the Krishna version of the meme especially). The answer is... just see if what the meme is saying about the god is supported by the mythology. Like I've seen ones that says Dionysus was "born of a virgin." If you know anything about the Greek gods, you're probably already laughing on the floor. Horus gets dragged into this too, because Gerald Massey was trying to pull a "White Goddess but with Dudes." But any serious research on Horus will tell you the supposed parallels aren't supported by the mythology.

So sorry, this wasn't so much sources you can use as it is how to look for them to begin with. Because there's just so, so much. This isn't even covering cases of syncretism, where pre-existing cultural traditions got continued post-Christianization. Because it's almost always the case that if a pre-Christian practice endured post Christianization, it's because people decided to keep doing it -- not because the church was trying to "steal" it. The latter means there was some mustache twirling plan behind it, when the former means (usually) the church went "Well, they're paying their tithes and saying it's for Jesus, so who gives a shit?"

I'm just going to finish this off with linking to my podcast episode on this, along with Ocean Keltoi's great Yule video on the topic. Hopefully that helps.

[creature-wizard]

What advice would you give to someone new to witchcraft or curious about starting their journey?

Quite a bit, I hope you don't mind a long post!

Make sure your ingredients and stuff aren't toxic to you or your pets. Essential oils, certain stones, many herbs, and so on can be extremely harmful if used improperly.

If you're going to use candles, research candle and fire safety.

Certain mystical practices/views can potentially create issues with certain mental illnesses. EG, anxiety can make you prone to thinking everything is a sign. OCD can make you prone to worrying whether you've offended the gods/spirits. This doesn't mean you shouldn't practice, it just means that you should be aware of how your mental illnesses impact your beliefs and thoughts.

Nothing is absolutely essential. Anyone who tells you that there's some item or herb you must have is probably trying to sell you something.

Aesthetic is cool and also useful for getting into the right headspace.

There are many models and theories of magic. Some people are very certain that their model is the One True Model, but there's always going to be someone whose own experience says otherwise.

Magical practitioners of the past improvised and made it up as they went along, too. (I say "magical practitioners" because very few of them would have actually called themselves "witches.")

Be aware that you're going to run into a lot of pseudohistory. The witch cult hypothesis had a huge influence on the modern witchcraft movement, and some people still cling to it. There's a lot of people still claiming that Christmas and Easter were stolen from pagans. Many people anachronistically project modern magical models onto the past. Some people believe this because it's just what they heard somewhere; some people believe it because they're conspiracy theorists. You can't entirely avoid it, but you can learn to recognize it. YouTube channels like Angela's Symposium, ReligionForBreakfast, and ESOTERICA are great places to start learning about actual religious and occult history.

You can also get better at recognizing conspiracy theories by learning their most common tropes. I wrote about them in this post and this post.

The whole concept of cultural appropriation isn't about policing what people do, and anyone who tries to use it that way is being a dick. It's about respecting marginalized cultures' boundaries and not depriving them of money, goods, etc. See this post for more information.

[redlegumes]

Dec 3rd: Stolen Pine

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles

prompt: Mutual Pining | AO3: link | wc: 946 | rating: G | cw: none | tags: idiots in love, 'pine' ing, Christmas tree without glasses, light theft

Summary: Spontaneous tree theft and decorating, paired with some pining.

⍋↟⍋♡⍋↟⍋

They'd hauled in the tree. Eddie kept talking about how the evergreen part was the important bit and continued to explain Christmas's stolen nuances from paganism. Steve nodded and did his best to follow along. That was what he did lately, follow Eddie. Whether it started with a need to assure himself the guy was okay after their Upside Down torments, or if he'd honestly found Eddie intriguing from the get go, Steve couldn't say. 

It didn't really matter anyway. He was positive that his feelings weren't going away as he nodded along with Eddie's excited ramblings. He hadn't even hesitated to join Eddie that night without product in his hair, glasses on.

…

Steve's vision had started to degrade. He'd noticed after his first run in with a Demogorgon. Pretty soon he legally needed corrective lenses to drive. Vanity prevented him from letting anyone other than Robin know. She'd assured him, ‘a boy is allowed to have his secrets. Just not from his platonic soulmate.’ Kinda the same reasoning behind why she knew how utterly hopeless he'd become around Eddie. The type of lovesick that had him helping Eddie with his non-christ related, Christmas tree caper.

continues after the cut

Eddie already knew about Steve's vision after helping Steve through an awful migraine where he just couldn't stand to have the contacts in. Steve'd been so nervous but Eddie just teased him about commiting to an ’Indiana Jones’ look and they kinda just moved on.

Steve hadn't expected Eddie at all that night when he knocked on his door. He'd come late to ask for help stealing a tree off some wooded, government owned property. He took one look at Eddie's ridiculous smile and dancing deep eyes and threw on a parka to help.

…

Now they were attempting to get the damn thing in a stand in the white-walled, impersonal living room of the house the ‘’Department of Energy’ had provided Wayne Munson with. They managed with no small amount of grunting and sappy fingers. More than once Steve reminded himself not to stare too hard at Eddie through the pine branches. He even liked Eddie's frustrated faces, the downward curve of his lips, the wrinkling of his forehead. Jesus, I'm pathetic. 

When they finished he and Eddie stood back admiring their fresh cut theft.

“Wayne's at work for another two hours. Think we can get it done ourselves before he's back?”

“Do you have decorations?”

Eddie sheepishly twisted where he stood. “I picked up some lights, and yeah, there's a box of ornaments.”

Steve stilled, bowled over by the waves of ‘adorable’ pouring off of Eddie. “Uh yeah, I think we can manage.”

—

The box was one of the few items in a very small storage room Al Munson's name was on outside of town. Eddie had been contacted once as ‘next of kin' to make payments on the thing, and that's when he went to see it himself. Inside were his dad's ‘tools of the trade,’’ some suspicious looking luggage and duffels he recognized from a hair brained scheme or two. What a lame cache, he'd thought at the time. That was before he reached the cardboard boxes in the back. They were his mother's. Winter decorations and clothes that were never brought back out when the seasons changed after her death. 

It was one of those boxes he'd picked up and brought to the new place, dragging it out now for Steve. Steve stopped unraveling lights to examine the ornaments. “These look like heirlooms,” he said, carefully picking up a blue, blown glass sphere and turning it in his strong hands. 

Eddie loved the care and attention Steve directed at the one piece. The way a tendril of hair fell over his forehead; the consideration on his face. Steve was already in his ‘Clark Kent look’ when Eddie'd shown up to his place that night. Which made sense, it was late, but Eddie loved the glasses on Steve. He liked the superman analogy too. Steve was basically Eddie's superman anyway.

“They were my mother's,” Eddie said, touching the edge of a carved angel's wing inside.

Steve's mouth made a small ‘o’ shape and he carefully set the ornament back into the nestled layers of tissue paper. “They're beautiful Eds.”

They decorated together, and it was easy. Eddie was warmed just being near Steve but they seemed to naturally work well together, joking and spacing the lights and decorations just right. Steve got Eddie's radio out and they listened to crackly Christmas tunes as they went along.

They finished about thirty minutes or so before Wayne's anticipated return. The men stood back to admire their handy work. Steve took his glasses off.

“Prettier that way,” Eddie asked, breathier than he wanted to sound.

Steve chuckled. “Good both ways, but yeah. One of the only perks I guess? The lights all expand and blend a bit.”

Eddie stared at Steve taking in the tree. If the lights were as fuzzy as he'd said, Steve wouldn't notice Eddie's stare. Truth be told, Eddie always wanted to stare at Steve. The lights reflected in Steve's light brown eyes… Christ, he is so pretty. Eddie's fingers itched to twine themselves with Steve's. He was dying with every little kindness Steve showed him; dying to bite the bullet and confess. He wanted to know if his crush was one sided, but if things took a different turn... Telling Steve could ruin what they had, and then who would help him steal a Christmas tree at two am?

He could live with this for now, watching Steve lit by the glow of Christmas lights they hung together. 

“Thanks Stevie.”

“Anytime Eds.”

2023 RedLegumes Steddiemas 1 2 3 4 5 6 10 SteddieHolidayDrabbles 1 2 3 4 6 8 9 10

[banefolk]

Next in the christmas botanicals series is mistletoe, the famous white-berried tree parasite associated with druids, animal sacrifice, thunder god semen, the death of the Norse god Baldr, and the Trojan hero Aeneas using it to safely travel to the underworld. Many of us may think of mistletoe as belonging solely to the British Isles and Europe, but did you know there are 1500 different species of mistletoe worldwide? There are mistletoes in the United States, Mexico, South America, Asia, and Australia too.

Mistletoe is another poisonous plant used by our pagan ancestors for spiritual protection in winter. It was brought inside homes and placed in the rafters around the winter solstice to protect from ghosts, evil spirits, witches, illness, lightning, house fires, and bad luck in general. Unlike other winter greenery, it was left up all year and only replaced at the next winter solstice or christmas day. The practice is a living tradition of paganism. It wasn’t really adopted/stolen by the church, people simply never stopped the tradition. The church never banned it. Only a handful of later Protestant ministers got upset about the newer kissing tradition in the 1800s.

Kissing under mistletoe is believed to be Scandinavian in origin —that those who kissed under it were supposed to have a true and enduring love. This superstition ended up twisted by pervy Englishmen into a tradition of “a woman can’t refuse a kiss under the mistletoe or bad luck will befall her.” As the kissing superstition is fairly recent and largely invented —feel free to ignore it.

Mistletoe was once believed to be an antidote to all poisons and diseases. We know that’s not the case today but it does have historical traditional uses of treating arthritis, high blood pressure, respiratory issues, epilepsy, and infertility. While the plant itself has not been shown to help with cancer, some of its extracted and concentrated toxins have been found to be cytotoxic (destroys cancer cells).

Like the Native American snowberry (see previous post), mistletoe is also traditionally used to protect the cradles and beds of babies and small children. It can supposedly protect adults too when placed in the bedroom. Its presence is supposed to provide a good sleep with happy dreams.

If you have a bit of time, it’s quite a fun herb to research and maybe you’ll discover a native species growing in your region!

Resources: Wikipedia, Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs, Folklore & Symbolism of Flowers, Plants and Trees, and The Folklore of Plants (Thiselton Dyer, 1889).

[thejournallo]

Explain the basic: The Sabbats

first things first! Happy yule to everyone who celebrate it!

Taking advantage of the fact that today is one of the sabbats, we are actually going to learn what exactly the sabbats are.

I will do part two with all the things associated with the Sabbats and what we can do to celebrate them.

Disclaimer: Not every witch celebrates the Sabbats or is forced to do so. Also, I will do some parallelism and example with the Christian's holiday, because some Christian traditions are "stolen" from the paganism and some are revisited. Christians and non-Christian religions have their own versions of every celebration for different reasons; let's respect each other because no religion is bad.

The pagan sabbats refer to the eight seasonal celebrations observed by many modern pagan and Wiccan traditions. These festivals mark important points in the solar cycle, celebrating the changing seasons and agricultural cycles. The sabbats are divided into two groups: the four Greater Sabbats, also known as the cross-quarter days, and the four Lesser Sabbats, which coincide with the solstices and equinoxes.

Greater Sabbats (Cross-Quarter Days):

Samhain (October 31st): This marks the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter. It's considered a time when the veil between the physical world and the spirit world is thinnest, making it a time for honoring ancestors and reflecting on mortality. This Sabbat is more popularly known as Halloween, and the association really changes depending on the costumes. For example, in Italy, in some restricted beliefs guided by ignorance, Halloween is associated with the devil and comes before the Day of the Saints (1st November) and the Day of the Dead (2nd November), and only the younger generation started to celebrate it.

Imbolc (February 1st or 2nd): Imbolc celebrates the return of spring and the growing light. It's associated with purification and new beginnings, often symbolized by the lighting of candles and the goddess Brigid.

Beltane (May 1st): Beltane heralds the arrival of summer and is a fertility festival celebrating life, growth, and the union of the god and goddess. It's a time of joy, dancing around maypoles, and honoring fertility. In Italy, we have Fogheraccia is a typical Romagna folklore celebration held every year on the evening of March 18th, on the eve of the spring equinox, when the Bacchanalia took place and the Dionysian rites to propitiate fertility as well as the beginning of the new Roman year, from which its pagan origin can be traced. With the arrival of Christianity, the event was renamed Saint John's Day.

Lughnasadh/Lammas (August 1st): This marks the first harvest, celebrating the fruits of labor and the bounty of the earth. It's a time to give thanks for the abundance of the season. The name Lammas is also used, taken from a later Christianized Anglo-Saxon festival that took place at the same time and may or may not have the same origin. As the name indicates (from loafmass, "festival of loaves"), it is a celebration of thanksgiving for bread, which represents the first fruit of the harvest.

Lesser Sabbats (Solstices and Equinoxes):

Yule (Winter Solstice, around December 21st): Yule celebrates the winter solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year. It signifies the rebirth of the sun and the return of light, often symbolized by the burning of the Yule log. In this modern day of celebrating Yule, it's like celebrating Christmas; the symbols are the same but the meanings are different. In Yule, it is used to decorate three with candlelight and sweet biscuits to keep Fae and Gnome away during the celebrations. The Krampus was transformed into a bad creature when in reality it was our "Santa Claus," but let me explain. It originated in Norway when the native pagans used to worship Thor, who was said to travel in a chariot that was drawn by two goats. During the Yule celebrations, the pagans would visit homes wearing goatskins and a goat head. When the country became Christian, the tradition was also absorbed into the new faith. Initially, the Julebukk was a goat slaughtered at Christmastime to celebrate the end of the agricultural work year. With time, it meant a person who led a costumed procession from house to house to entertain the residents and be rewarded with food and drink. In the early 19th century, the Julebukk also became the bringer of presents, the predecessor of the Julenisse, equivalent to Santa Claus in English.

Ostara (Spring Equinox, around March 21st): Ostara marks the vernal equinox, a time of balance when day and night are equal. It's a celebration of fertility, growth, and new life. Ostara is the Sabbat associated with Easter and celebrates the coming of spring. For Christians, it is the celebration of the coming back of Jesus.

Midsummer/Litha (Summer Solstice, around June 21st): This celebrates the longest day of the year when the sun is at its peak. It's a time for revelry, honoring the sun's power, and acknowledging the abundance of nature. The early Christian Church designated June 24 as the feast day of the early Christian martyr St. John the Baptist [22], and the observance of St. John's Day begins the evening before, known as Saint John's Eve.

Mabon (Autumn Equinox, around September 21st): Mabon marks the autumnal equinox, a time of balance before the descent into winter. It's a time for gratitude for the harvest and preparation for the colder months.

These sabbats vary in how they're observed and celebrated, with rituals, feasts, ceremonies, and specific customs tied to each one. Different pagan traditions may have variations in the names, practices, and specific dates for these celebrations, but they generally revolve around honoring nature's cycles and spiritual significance.

As always, I will love to hear your thoughts! and if you have any questions, I will be more than happy to answer them! If you liked it, leave a comment or reblog (that is always appreciated!). and have a wonderful day or night!

[gotasenseivebeenbetrayed]

As someone who grew up Christian, it is so damn tiring dealing with Christians. And I know not EVERY Christian but, it's enough of them that it's a problem. I don't give a shit what you believe but when you don't even know the own history of your religion then there's a problem.

It is historically accurate that Paganism was around long before Christ or Christanity. And based on their beliefs that shouldn't be accurate because for a religion based on "you believe in God or you go to Hell" if people existed and believed in other Gods way before God sent his son to us to "spread the word" then what happened to all those people? Every single one of them went to Hell? They had no way of knowing the "true" way (according to Christians). And if Christanity is the "true way" why did they need to murder hundreds of thousands of people and FORCE them to convert and then STEAL their traditions and claim them for themselves?

It'll never not amaze me that Christians refuse to do any sort of research on their own beliefs or religion and blindly believe then get mad when people have different beliefs or try to correct them. Again, believe whatever you want but, at least be correct in your beliefs.

Christmas is not and never was a Christian Holiday, it was stolen from Pagans. And whether you want to accept that or not, you do need to accept that Jesus was NOT born on December 25th. Your own Bible does not give a date for his birth and in fact most research and studies into both Christianity and references in the Bible point towards a Spring birthday. So ask yourself then why is it so important that Christians claimed Dec. 25th? Why is the date of Christ's rebirth Easter which was ALSO a Pagan Holiday and the only different was a slight change of spelling.

It is irritating to see Christians cry left and right that people are "oppressing" them (lofuckingl) amd "stealing Christ from Christmas" or whatever other Holiday when Christ literally does not have a Holiday of his own - both were stolen to begin with. You can't steal him from something he wasn't involved in to begin with.

I just wish more Christians would practice what they preach, do resesarch into their own religion and be more accepting if their own history.

/end rant

[joebidensdementia]

I have a very very specific holiday related pet peeve of mine that I'd like to address.

So I've noticed *A LOT* of people getting increasingly mad over the years because Christians (especially in America) observe a lot of originally pagan (Yule) traditions for Christmas (exs: putting trees in your house, putting wreaths on the door, etc.). I've especially seen a lot of anger from people who practice paganism today. "You stole our traditions!" "Those traditions aren't yours!"

My brothers and sisters and siblings in Christ, you are so wrong on so many levels.

Firstly, let's start with Yule's place of origin. Yule was originally celebrated by Norse, Celtic, and Germanic peoples. It's vitally important to note that the Celtic people in particular occupied what is known today as the UK (remember this).

Anybody who knows their history knows that the Romans invaded the UK and Western Europe... a lot. And class, they brought a certain religion along with them! Christianity!

Eventually, after several attempted invasions, the Romans succeeded at occupying the UK (and most of Western Europe). There was even a certain time during this rule of Rome's that all forms of pagan worship were banned! Rome ended up ruling most of Western Europe for hundreds of years.

Now class, can anyone tell me what happens when we enforce a religion on another culture for hundreds of years? It's almost like you lose touch with your roots when that happens!

Now, coming back to these ignorant white Americans putting wreaths on their doors and Christmas trees in their houses without knowing why... it's almost as if it's the result of their distant ancestor's homes being invaded and their religion being banned. They don't know why they put trees up in their homes, but it's what their parents did, and their parents before them, and their parents before them, and on and on.

Now, can anyone tell me where the majority of white Americans originate from? That's right! Western Europe!

It's almost as if white Americans celebrate Christianity with pagan traditions because they were originally pagan and had Christianity enforced upon them.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk and if I see any more of you bitching about stolen traditions I will personally break your kneecaps.

[our-pagan-experience]

Pagan culture is listening to discourse about which "Christian" practices were stolen from pagans every year on holidays like easter, Christmas, Halloween, Valentines Day, and more!

(I'm lowkey getting tired of it!)

Yeah, it’s the same old thing every holiday. Like…can’t we just…y’know, focus on celebrating, maybe??

[writeyouin]

Hello!! Omg I love your writing SOOOO much!!! If holiday requests are open, I was wondering if you might gift us with a V for vendetta Christmas fic? Like, something fluffy where reader is stuck in the shadow gallery and is having a real blue Christmas UNTIL... V surprises them with something unexpectedly festive? *cough* mistletoe *cough* ❤️❤️❤️

V X Reader – Christmas Blues Part 1 of 2

A/N – Okay, so I got two very similar xmas requests for V for Vendetta, so I’m doing this as a 2 parter. Part one is this, part 2 will be smut. You can read part one without part two.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

V stared at you, certain you must find his expression mocking behind the jeering grin of his mask. He had never intended to hurt your feelings, only to let you down gently as it were. He knew he didn’t do enough for you. There was never enough time, and his work was important… But weren’t you also important?

No, nothing could compromise his mission. If all went according to plan, he would be ready to blow up the Old Bailey in another two years, thus starting his revolution. Yet, doing such things took time, and there was so much that V had to learn and prepare. He didn’t have time to rest – not even on Christmas Eve. However, in telling you so and seeing your disappointment – Well, it was just another way in which he was a monster.

The worst part was that you were taking it in your stride. Granted, V could see how upset you were as your eyes became glassy with tears you refused to shed, but you didn’t complain; it seemed that you knew just how much his work meant to him.

And so, V left you, stating a humble apology as he passed you and made his way to the roof. He had to hurry. There was a train to catch – a train straight to the Chancellor that was jam-packed with priceless intel.

Even when V left you, you still refused to cry. A small part of you had known this would happen. It was quite likely that V didn’t celebrate Christmas anyway. How many times had he told you that the holiday was stolen from its pagan roots? Or that the name was changed to suit its Christian hosts? And now that the UK was stuck in a dictatorship, the Holiday was only used to control people – it was like a gift the Chancellor could give or take away at will.

If the population was good, they would get their later curfews and sparkly light shows, but if they ever needed further subjugation, then a false threat would be created by Suttler’s goons, and harsher lockdowns would be put in place. Then, said imaginary threat would then be taken care of just in time for New Year’s Day so the people would have a chance for revelry, all while feeling a false sense of security under their great and powerful leader.

So, that left you all alone, as usual, but you knew you couldn’t blame V. To act as he had was simply his nature. You could no more ask him to change than you could ask birds to stop flying or fish to cease swimming. You simply had to pull up your bootstraps, pick some traditions, and enjoy the Holiday spirit.

That was easier said than done since there was nobody to lift your spirits and hype you up as you did all the things you were supposed to do. After eating dinner alone, listening to Christmas music, and hosting a lone trivia card game, you were quite thoroughly depressed.

In the end, you put on a film from V’s collection. In your current mood, It’s a Wonderful Life seemed to be the right choice; besides, you liked picking a film from Suttler’s blacklist, and It’s a Wonderful Life had been banned at the start of his reign for its socialist views.

Partway through the film, you spotted V’s sparring partner – the suit of armour he tormented during his favourite movies whenever he thought he was alone. Well, if he could be V’s movie frenemy, then he could also act as your film friend.

Slowly, you started talking to him, giving your opinions on the film, and of its characters. At some point, you began acting out scenes, much as you had seen V do, though where he chose violence, you chose love. The suit was your James Stewart, and you, Donna Reed, though sometimes, you would switch roles if you thought it was a particularly good Stewart scene. You lassoed the moon for your metal friend, then you switched roles and offered it a broken mansion for its honeymoon.

Although there was no mistletoe kiss in the film, you stole some you had decorated the fireplace with anyway, placing it over the armour’s helm. It was almost as if you would have felt silly kissing it without the mistletoe, even though it was ridiculous to peck the metal beak either way. You turned away from the unmoving man so that when you did kiss him, you would be able to swing around dramatically and give him that world-ending, 1940’s bombshell of a kiss.

The film played alongside in the background as George Baily returned home safe – he was loved and cared for, and then, it was the perfect moment to swing around, throw your arms over the broad shoulders and kiss –

V?!

Your momentum carried you forward as your lips pressed against the cool metal of his mask.

You tried to scramble back, hurrying out apologies but V held you steady.

“Don’t.” He told you. “Don’t apologise.”

“V, I- I thought you were-”

“I came back,” He said as if it were the only thing that mattered. In truth, he had rushed through his mission, stolen the required intel on a USB and hurried back without even so much as looking at the data. Leaving you the way he had didn’t sit right with him. You were an amazing person, always forced to put yourself second since you did everything you could to please V. He didn’t want things to be that way. He wanted you to have more.

Granted, the two of you weren’t yet in a relationship, but you had just kissed him, albeit inadvertently, and V was no fool; he knew the feelings you harboured for him.

“(Y/N),” He whispered your name, placing a gloved hand on your cheek. “You have given me more than I could have ever hoped for. You are a virtuoso of my heart, vibrant and vivacious as you pass through the veneer of villainy that masquerades so violently in the vales above. Of all that resides here in the Shadow Gallery, you are the most valuable to me. Although it is entirely selfish of me to ask such a thing of you, I hope that you will stay with me… always.”

You trembled against V, entirely terrified to open your mouth in case no sound came out. He waxed poetry so eloquently, and you often failed to make yourself say all the things you thought without tripping over your words.

Still, you couldn’t stay silent at such an important time in your life. V was – He was everything and to have him by your side would be like capturing the stars themselves, cosmic and inexplicable as they illuminated your heart and mind, burning any darkness or fear away.

You couldn’t look away from V, knowing his gaze must be expectant beneath the mask. Realisation dawned upon you, you didn’t need fancy words, or masses of poetry to complete the moment. All you needed was what V valued most; the truth.

“I don’t want to spend a day without you. I love you, V.”

“Then, by all means, let us abandon our fat metal friend,” V spared the suit of armour a backward glance, thinking how you could have kissed it instead of him, “and retire elsewhere. I myself do not celebrate this holiday, but I would love to partake in some of your more beloved traditions.”