#especially over pagans

[margridarnauds]

"Celtic Rite Catholic" so...you celebrate Easter on a different day?

[khaire-traveler]

Since I haven't made an official post saying this (I don't think), I want to make it clear that I support godspousing.

People are allowed to have whatever kind of relationships with their deities that they want to have. It's not up to us, as outside observers, to dictate what people can and cannot do within their PERSONAL deity relationships.

Seriously, some of y'all need to, like, chill. Eat a Snickers. Drink some water. Stop worrying about what other people are doing within their PERSONAL practice.

[tricksterfly]

i hope Sköll saved his appetite for the sun today. the Earth has a big plate ready for hims

[solvicrafts]

What gets me about certain people being so fucking pissy about Bob not writing much about Eilistraee (until the last fucking trilogy where EIlistraeans featured heavily) is that

a) Bob basically built drow culture up from almost nothing, and Eilistraee came after he started writing Drizzt

b) no you guys really don't understand. I own the first 4 modules drow appeared in. There's... not much there. And it hasn't aged well.

c) and the Big One: he has a specific vision for his specific characters when it comes to the narrative he wants to explore, from sexual abuse to religious trauma, both of which are fucking complicated and for most people just switching deities isn't enough to fix that.

I have religious trauma that I still struggle with to this day and probably will for the rest of my life to some extent, and it's fundamentally different in nature from what most people would probably expect, and the thing is even though I am happily polytheistic and very enthusiastically into it, I still struggle a lot with certain things because every time I get into my religious practice I have to actively force myself into (or out of) certain things because my whole relationship to religion and spirituality is complicated and messy.

It would be easy and frankly incredibly superficial for Bob to decide to just have them all convert to half-assed Neowiccan ~woo~ drow Jesus Eilistraee to *~*save their souls*~* and call it a day

BUT HE DIDN'T DO THAT

Partly because she wasn't his creation and other authors were writing her at the time so he really couldn't, and partly because it's a shitty message to send.

Sometimes people benefit from converting to a new religion or following a new deity. Sometimes people don't.

I benefited from gradually converting to my religion, but it's come with a whole different set of complications and hasn't been a smooth journey for me.

Just going from extensive religious trauma to switching deities does not fix your problems, and for a lot of people it realistically can make them much worse.

but also

you don't have to be saved by a deity in order to have value as a person

[cryptramesses]

So I can't say much about other practices, which makes sense because I don't practice other practices -- I am a Kemetic Pagan at heart. But with the months moving on and the Nile Seasons changing, I do want to give everyone a gentle reminder.

There's still so much that we don't know and haven't recovered from Kemet. Yes festivals happened, but their dates are not super concrete. There were thousands of holidays and festivals that were held in Kemet, and thus there are thousands of such we can bring into our modern day world. However it would be a stretch to say we have any definitive calendar.

What I'm trying to get at here is when it comes to religious holidays and days of spiritual importance, do what feels right. For me I have an entire Kemetic Calendar mapped out based around the modern day 'Nile Flood' holiday, and from there I have a couple minor and major holidays in my calendar that I feel hold significance to me. The people who live with me agree and say they also feel good about it, and as such this is what we do.

Their placement is based off of what I felt was right, not what the ancients did. I feel like we all, as a community, need to stop hanging onto this concept of 'purity'. I feel as though what sets aside most non-mainstream beliefs is this idea that society evolves and changes over time, and therefore our beliefs follow suit. It is one of the many key factors that make many pagan beliefs so fascinating and powerful. (obviously not all pagan beliefs -- pagan being just a very vague umbrella term that I may define more later down the line)

If a festival or holiday does not feel right to you, it's okay to change it. Now I'm not saying celebrate the spring equinox on the autumn equinox, that defeats the purpose of those holidays, but in most holidays the dates aren't what is important. Moreover don't feel like you have to follow old traditions, make your own. It's okay. You're not a bad practitioner for doing so. Bringing in the old is alright, but the reason that holidays like Christmas and Halloween are so beloved is that they take older traditions into the modern day and reinvent them as well as adding more traditions alongside it. Take some liberties with it, so long as your heart is in the right place then you're doing good.

Just always remember, don't take away others autonomy. Anyways that's all, have a wonderful day everyone, and remember to have fun. Have many blessed festivals!

[empyreanmirror]

sunflowers in our hair

[krakensdottir]

A scene I wanted to address, because I think we need to, because there is some understandable concern over this.

So, Aziraphale's first taste of human food... he goes pretty nuts. He eats it as fast as he can get it down. He can barely stop to breathe. And I can see why that evokes the Greedy Fat Person trope for some.

Given that Gaiman is no fan of fatphobia, I'm pretty sure that's not the intent. But I won't lean on that. I'll go further, and explain what that scene evoked for me, and see if it makes sense to anyone else.

(To preface, I'm a fat person with blood sugar problems who DOES eat like a starving animal and has 0 shame about it. So I'm not just Not Seeing It because of skinny privilege etc. To get that out of the way.)

So first off, of course, it's his first EVER attempt at eating human food. The absolute lack of moderation could be explained by that alone. But I think it's significant that it's specifically meat.

Those who are familiar with the Old Testament know what I mean when I say that God is carnivorous. It's the entire reason he was a bitch to Cain and not to Abel. The Abrahamic god was one of many at the time that accepted burnt animal offerings, before later revisions attempted to wave that away because oops, it sounds too pagan. Flesh of livestock was a common and expected offering, and burning it assured that the smell and smoke and 'essence' would rise to the heavens.

With that in mind, consider what the taste of meat would do to an angel. What it might awaken in them, the first of God's creations?

Maybe it's the monster-lover in me, but I didn't see a fat man gobbling food. I saw an inhuman ancient entity of immense power that only disguises itself as a man, briefly succumbing to a primal and Earthly urge. It wasn't comical to me. It was almost frightening, in a very intentional way. Rarely do we see through the human guise in this series, see just how eldritch these ethereal beings really are, especially Aziraphale. But here he is, ripping almost uncontrollably into the flesh of another life-form with ominous music and thunder overlying the whole scene, and a demon staring at him with intense satisfaction and fascination throughout.

That's what I took from it. If I had to guess, I'd say that's closer to the intent. Again, partly from knowing the author, but also from the way the scene is shot. We're watching an angel partake in literal pleasures of the flesh for the first time, taking formerly living matter into his body. I can totally vibe with Crowley's reaction, tbh.

[creature-wizard]

Check your conspiracy theory part two: double, double, boil and trouble

Does your conspiracy theory sound something like this?

There is a large number of people who practice a form of religion that demands animal and human sacrifices.

Their practices can be traced all the way back to ancient times.

They are responsible for many mysterious murders, disappearances, and animal deaths.

They especially prey on children, or require children for certain rituals.

Their rituals include immoral sexual activities.

They practice ritual cannibalism.

They use something from the victims' bodies for medicinal or mystical purposes.

They regularly cast curses.

They have special means of manipulating or controlling people's minds.

Strange medical and psychological symptoms are evidence that one has been targeted or tortured by these people.

Their rituals and holidays are viscerally disgusting mockeries of normal, wholesome rituals and holidays. Feces, urine, and blood are often involved.

Members are severely punished (physically and psychologically) for transgressions.

Members are frequently driven to suicide.

Members often lead double lives, often seeming to be good law-abiding citizens to the public.

There are numerous telltale signs that give their allegiance away; EG, strange body markings or owning things that could be used in rituals.

If evidence can't be found, it's because they have ways of hiding it.

They have ways of traveling and transporting victims to seemingly improbable locations with no one noticing.

They might believe themselves to be worshiping pagan gods, but it's actually a satanic deception.

All of these claims go back to early modern witch panic and blood libel. (There is significant overlap between these things.) You can find this kind of stuff claimed in literature like the Malleus Malificarum, A Discovery of Witches (the one by Matthew Hopkins), and the Compendium Maleficarum. You can also find information on the history of blood libel over here.

[ohtobeleah]

Scream // Jake Seresin

🔪 Summary: When home alone on Halloween Eve, someone keeps calling you from an unknown number. As fear begins to consume you and panic builds as you run for your life, the masked stranger really takes advantage of the pretty girl he’s decided to hunt down.

🔪 Warnings: Mask kink, CNC (consensual non-consent) knife play, unprotected sex, oral sex (m. receiving), choking, hair pulling, dirty talk, degradation, creampie, rough sex. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Ghost Face likeness/cosplay.

🔪 Word Count: 7.6k

🔪 Author Note: Happy Halloween ya filthy animals. Hope you enjoy this X-rated Ohtobeleah Halloween Special! Concepts are open for this one too! Especially with that ending….

Spooky season. It had to be your favourite time of year. The fall brought so many changes and flavours and aesthetics you just couldn’t resist. From the pumpkin spiced everything’s to the burnt embers and oranges that littered the trees that lined the sidewalks. To the overconsumption of old Halloween classics and seasonal house decor that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 

Halloween was and always would be, yourself favourite holiday, and for that you thanked the pagans for their belief system many centuries ago. Without them? Why else would you have an excuse to sit in your living room with what felt like an endless supply of single wrapped sweets and chocolates that you should very well have been saving for the trick or treaters that would be roaming the streets of suburban Texas the following night. 

“Is that how you wanna spend your summer?” You’d seen IT probably a million times before, but it was always a good start. “Inside of an arcade?” Eddie Kaspbrak asked little Richie Tozier as you popped another Reese's peanut butter cup into your mouth. 

“Beats spending it inside your mother.” You couldn’t help but to say the line out loud knowing exactly what comeback was coming around the corner. Like clockwork little Richie said the same thing he always said and you laughed like an adolescent. Yeah, the IT Saga was always a good place to start before moving into the Halloween Collection and Scream Series. 

You were what some would call ‘Basic’ But to you basic was better than being overly ambitious and lacking in complete pop culture appreciation for the movies that were, in your very not so professional opinion, the backbone of the spooky season film industry. 

In need of another glass of Prosecco or perhaps something a little stronger and gin based, you made your way into the kitchen after you’d paused your movie. The house smells of cinnamon and pumpkin, there was no escape from the ever present and consuming aroma of fall as you took a moment to decide if you were going to finish that bottle of Prosecco or move on to the big boys. The gin sours. After all, you were home all alone on Halloween Eve and there was nothing stopping you from getting a little tipsy in the quiet and comfortable silence of your humble abode. 

Even your Flyboy boyfriend, Jake Seresin, wasn’t coming home. The original plan had been he was taking some much needed leave to come home and spend two full weeks back in the arms of the woman he loved so dearly. But things changed, life happened, and all of a sudden you were facing the reality that you would be alone for the Halloween holiday head on. 

You couldn’t blame him, it was just the way the job went sometimes. Things came up, plans changed overnight and soon enough, four entire months had passed since you’d last seen Lieutenant Commander Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, or as he was more affectionately known to you as, Flyboy.

It was just the way the pumpkin spiced cookie crumbled this time around, but Jake had promised the minute Robert Floyd was back on deck after his four weeks of leave for paternity were over, he was racing back to you. 

In the middle of your silent thoughts on when you’d get to see your boyfriend of three years again, your phone began to vibrate back on the coffee table where you’d left it. The ringer had been silent—but the vibration against the glass was all you needed to hear as you padded back into the living room. Still drinkless and very much sober, something that needed to change very quickly if you were going to enjoy your time alone. 

You anticipated the call to be Jake, but when the caller ID didn’t read ‘Flyboy’ with one of those obnoxious pink hearts next to it, you frowned. All that was staring back at you was an unknown number, one you hadn’t seen before. One that didn’t look familiar or resemble any contact you might have accidentally deleted from your contacts. 

You’d heard what could become of curious minds, but that didn’t stop you from swiping the pad of your thumb across the vibrating screen before you held your phone up to your ear. 

“Hello?” You asked cautiously, already wondering who could be calling you this late who didn’t know you. 

“Hello?” A voice you didn’t recognise mimicked your greeting. 

“Yes?” You grimaced at your own stupidity for a second as you made your way back into the kitchen. 

“Who is this?” The man on the other end of the phone asked like he wasn’t the one who called you. 

“Hmm—Well who are you trying to reach?” You tried to remain polite, for all you knew as you reached up for the bottle of gin, it truly could have been a mistake. A wrong number situation if you will. 

“What number is this?” The man asked, a little more confused. 

“Well what number are you trying to reach?” Your patience was going a little thin, but nevertheless you remained polite. 

“I don’t know.” The man on the end of the line sounded as if he shrugged with a cocky little smirk. Was this some sort of prank call? 

“I think you have the wrong number.” As if you were going to play along. Prank calls around this time of year were a dime a dozen and you just weren’t in the mood for childish antics. 

“Do I?” He asked, almost shocked, like he knew that he had the right number all along. Because he did. 

“It happens.” You shrugged it off with a quick eye roll, silently masking your annoyance. “Take it easy man.” You ended the call with a quick sigh and placed your phone on the counter as you went about making yourself a stronger, more appropriate beverage. The night was still somewhat young and you wanted a buzz. But then, once again, your phone rang with that same unknown number. At first you weren’t going to answer, but something inside you told you it could just be one of Jake’s friends pulling a prank. 

“Hello?” You tried to mask the annoyance in your tone but it must have come across as clear as day as you answered the phone. Same unknown number, same smug voice. 

“I’m sorry—I guess I dialled the wrong number.” The man on the other end sounded like he smiled through his words. 

“So why’d you dial it again?” It was a genuine question, why would someone who dialled the wrong number dial it again? On purpose. 

“To apologise.” The man replied rather quickly as you worked to pour yourself a rather strong shot of gin. It was going straight into the shaker. 

“Well consider your apology accepted.” How stupid was the guy? “Goodbye now—“

“Wait, wait—don’t hang up.” He nearly begged, you could hear the desperation in his voice, the need to keep you on the line. What was this weirdo playing at? 

“Why would I not?” You frowned, stilling your movements to pounder this entire situation. Who the fuck was this guy? What did he want? Did you know him? Was this some sort of prank? 

“Because I wanna talk to you for a second.” Oh okay, now you got it.

“They’ve got numbers for that kinda shit.” You chuckled to yourself under your breath. “I ain't that kinda girl.” You didn't even bother saying goodbye this time, you simply pressed the end call button and went about making yourself a drink. 

By the time you got settled back on the couch amongst a sea of throw blankets and halloween themed pillows, the TV had dimmed. If anything that was a clear indication as to how much time you had actually wasted talking to that random creeper on the phone. 

As you got settled, the buzzing vibration of your phone on the coffee table scared the ever living Christ from you. You groaned when you saw it, that same unknown number. With a huff, you answered. 

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” Your heart nearly sunk at the harshness the man used as you held your phone up against your ear. 

“Who the hell is this?” You frowned again, this time you weren't playing games. You’d spent enough time entertaining this lunatic and now it was time to get to the bottom of who the fuck was messing with you.

“You tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine.” The man chuckled to himself as he watched you get up off the lounge and slowly approach the nearest window to have a cautious look outside.

“I don’t think so.” The only thing you could see were the small pumpkin lights that boarded the front porch as they softly illuminated the stone in an orangey hume. Besides those small plastic pumpkin lights? There was nothing but darkness until the street. 

“What’s that noise?” The man asked, trying to keep the conversation going. He sounded far too intrigued by you and your surroundings. 

“I’m trying to watch a movie, now would you quit calling me?” You hissed through a huff as you made your way back to the couch. You were going to have to rewind your movie now, completely having lost track of where you were up to because of this lunatic. 

“What movie is it?” This game was becoming old and cheap, you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes as you sat back down and fixed the fuzzy grey blanket that was one of Jake’s favourites. God you missed him, wished he was here. “The one you’re trying to watch?”

“IT, Chapter One.” There was a sharp, get to the point, I’m over this damn conversation tone in your voice as you picked up the remote to rewind the movie. 

“Oh so it’s a scary movie?” The man sounded as if he raised an eyebrow at your explanation. 

“Well I tell ya what Sherlock Holmes—“ Once again, you weren’t trying to be nice, so the sarcasm dripped from your mouth like liquid candy. “You’re onto something there.” 

“Do you like scary movies?” He prolonged the question rather politely, but you didn’t miss the way his voice dropped an octave as your heart quickened inside your chest. 

“I do—“ Your house was far too quiet for your liking as you spoke on the phone to this complete stranger. You’d all of a sudden lost all interest in your movie as you looked back to the front door. Did you lock it? 

“What’s your favourite scary movie then?” 

“I’m not sure, there’s a few that I could choose.” In an overprotective manner you walked back to the front door to check if it was locked. It was. 

“Oh come on now, you’ve gotta have a favourite scary movie.” The man asked as he watched you walk around your house to check all the locks on all the windows and back door. “What comes to mind?”

“Fine, Halloween—“ None of your attempts to secure your humble abode would avail to anything. “You know, with the guy in the white mask that walks around stalking babysitters.” Because the man you were currently talking to was already inside your home. The home you shared with your loving, cock sure, flyboy boyfriend who was still in damn San Diego. 

“Yeah, I know it.” The man replied softly, he was just trying to keep you on the line. 

“So—what’s your favourite? Since you needed to know mine so desperately.” It even surprised you, but before you could stop yourself from entertaining this creeper any further the words had already escaped. You mentally had to slap yourself across the face for that one. That one was all on you. 

“How about you guess?” The man chuckled as he watched you walk back from the back door to the living room where once again, you sat back down on the couch. 

“Is it Nightmare on Elm Street?” Why oh why were you doing this to yourself? 

“Is that the one where the guy had knives for fingers?” The man sounded like he had a smile on his face, like he was enjoying this a little too much. Like he was just waiting for the right moment to come around. 

“Yeah, Freddie Kroger.” There was an ever increasing pit in your stomach that wouldn’t go away, something wasn’t right about this entire interaction. Who the fuck was this guy and why was he calling you on Halloween Eve. 

“Freddie, yeah that’s right, I guess I do like that movie, it’s pretty scary, don’t you think? 

“Well, the first one was but the rest sucked.” Again, why the fuck were you entertaining this guy. 

“So—you gotta boyfriend?” There it was, the last of many red flags. The first three being the late night unknown phone calls.

“Why? Are you gonna ask me out on a date, Mr. Cold Call guy?” A little teasing wouldn’t do any harm you thought to yourself as you popped a piece of candy into your mouth. 

“Maybe—“ The line went silent for a moment as your heart rang in your ears. “So? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“I do—“ You didn’t even need to lie, you did in fact have a very loved, very attractive, very not here at the moment boyfriend. “So, unfortunately for you there’s not gonna be a date.” 

“How could there ever be a date when you still haven’t told me your name?” 

“Why do you wanna know my name?” The next few seconds of time slowed down into nothing as your heart sank into your stomach and your head rang in fear. The man you’d been talking to with the rough voice and the polite responses had you turning seven colours of bad shit as he spoke. 

“Because I wanna know who I’m looking at—“

“What did you just say?” You shot up off the couch as you looked around your home frozen in fear. 

“I said I wanna know who I’m talking to.” The man tried to plan it off cool, calm and oh so collected but he knew he’d been heard and heard correctly. 

“That’s not what you said.” You could feel your heart hammering against your chest like it was trying to escape, but your feet refused to move. 

“What do you think I said?” He egged you on as you heard what sounded like footsteps coming from the laundry and tears began to well in your eyes. 

“Look, I gotta go, this is starting to get fucking creepy and my boyfriends gonna be home any minute.” The man on the end of the line could hear the shake in your voice as you tried to hang up and get out of this situation. He chose to play on your fear a little more. 

“Wait, I thought we were gonna go on a date?” He questioned rather quickly as you tried to regulate your breathing and get your feet to move. This wasn’t happening, this was like the beginning of some slasher 90’s horror movie where the ignorant girl gets killed for not using her brain.

“Nah—you’re dreaming.” You pulled the phone away from your ear but froze in fear when you heard the man scream down the phone at you. 

“Don’t you fucking hang up on me.” He spat with venom in his tone. 

“Listen asshole—“ You spat back as you finally let the anger overtake the fear inside you. 

“No you listen here you little bitch—“ He argued back as he watched you storm into the kitchen looking for a weapon to defend yourself with, only then did you realise the knives in the knife block had all been removed. “Hang up on me and I’ll gut you like a fish!” 

“Is this some sort of sick joke to you?” It was like nothing you had ever experienced before. God you wished Jake was here right now, he would have told you not to answer an unknown number. 

“More like a game—“ You should have listened to the little voice of his that lived in your mind. You never should have answered the phone. “Can you handle that—Y/n?” The way he said you named made all the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention. 

“Can you see me?” You asked as you looked out the window once more, when there wasn’t an immediate response you growled into the phone. “Listen, I am two seconds away from calling the police—“

“I don’t think they’re gonna make it in time sweetheart.” The man chuckled rather menacingly and it made your blood boil. “But they’ll definitely get here with just enough time to see what your insides look like.” 

“Ahh!” The doorbell rang and you swore your heart nearly exploded when it did. “Who’s there!” You shouted as you back away, screaming and crying into the phone. “Who’s fucking there!”

“You should never say who’s there, don’t you watch scary movies?” The man chuckled. “It’s a deathwish.”

“You’ve well and truly had your fun, now please—leave me alone.” You whimper for mercy, this was all too much. 

“Or else what?” The man asked curiously, he wanted to know exactly what you were going to do about all this. He was, after all, the one with the upper hand. 

“Or else my boyfriend will be here any second and he’ll be pissed when he finds out what cruel sick bastards been harassing me!”

“Isn’t he outta town?” How did? How the hell did he know? Had you told the mystery man fucking with you. 

“No!” You denied the fact that Jake was out of town, still stuck on base in San Diego when he should have been here. “No he’s not, and he’s big and fucking jacked and he flys fucking military planes for a damn living and he’ll kick the ever living shit out of you!” You shouted into your phone as you backed away from any door and window you could possibly get away from. Spinning around to make sure you had good enough vision of the whole house. 

“Oh yeah?” The man laughed on the other end of the line. “Sure, I’m shaking in my boots honey.” There was no question he could tell he was scaring you beyond belief, he’d watched you for the better half of five minutes frantically rush around the house locking all the doors and windows. “His name wouldn’t happen to be Jake? would it?” This was going to be so much fun. 

“How do you know his name?” There was a clear whimper in your voice as tears streamed down your cheeks. Fear was caught in your throat like a ball of wax, choking you completely. 

“Turn around—“ Slowly, you hung up the phone you held with a vice grip and turned around. To your absolute horror, there he was, the man who had been on the phone with you. Only you recognised the outfit with ease—it was a GhostFace costume. A really good one too. One that wasn’t from Dollar General the night before Halloween. This one had been thought out, the costume had intent and it was detailed. 

“Boo.” Was all he said as he took a step towards you. “Aw look at you.” He chuckled to himself as he approached and you remained still in complete and utter fear. “A little scared are you?” 

“How—how did you get inside my house?” It was a stupid question to ask, but as the man in the GhostFace mask approached you, you felt like you couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. 

“You looked me in?” He simply explained as he showed you a shape, clearly brand new knife. “Now we’re all alone, with no one to interrupt.” It was slow, but the man behind the mask moved the knife closer and closer to your chin until he was using the knife's edge to tilt your chin up. 

“I—“ Before you could speak, the man brought the knife down by his side and tilted his head. The silence that followed was all consuming as he just stared at your frozen, shaking and clearly terrified state. 

“Y/n?” He growled from behind the mask, all you did was stare at the mask. That all consuming, all encompassing mask that made your heart beat so hard inside your chest you swore your sternum was about to break “Run.” Was all he barked and that’s all it took for your flight or flight to kick in. 

“Help!” You shouted as you turned in the opposite direction and ran towards your front door. “Help me! Someone!” The masked man was right on your heels with heavy strides that made the timber flooding of your home creak with anticipation and excitement. 

Oh to be hunted, oh to be caught. 

You tried your best to get the front door unlocked in time but you just weren’t quick enough, or perhaps being caught was exactly what you wanted to happen. Just as you opened the front door and took two strides out onto the front porch—an all encompassing arm wrapped itself around your waist and the other wrapped itself around your mouth. 

Your eyes shot out of your skull as you felt yourself being dragged back inside your house. Your feet slipped under the anxiety of it all and soon enough you were on the ground being dragged back across the living room by the man in the GhostFace mask. 

“What’s the matter darlin’ I thought you said your boyfriend would be home any minute?” The man teased as he manhandled you up by your hair, forcing you up to your knees as your own hand came up to grip around his wrist, giving him two very firm squeezes in a row. Green, you were emerald green and everything in between as you clenched your teeth together and let your tears fall free. “I don’t see him anywhere?” 

It was like nothing you’d ever felt before, the feeling of being completely overpowered by someone. Being told you had no control, no say. 

“Fuck. You.” You spat as the man worked to pull off the black cloak he was wearing, revealing under a simple outfit of dark blue jean, a nice brown belt that matched the leather of his boots and a white-T. 

“That’s exactly what you’re gonna do.” You didn't register what that meant at first, but as you watched the man in the mask unbuckle his belt with one hand as he held onto your hair tightly with the other, that's when you started to feel the all too familiar heat pooling between your legs. 

“No!” You shouted as you tried to rip your hair out of his tight grasp. “No! Get away from me!” Kicking and screaming you tried your best to free yourself from your captor's hold, but it was to no avail. 

“My cocks been aching for your mouth since I saw you pop that candy into it.” There was a distinct primal need dripping from every word the masked man spoke as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs down ever so slightly to reveal what you had been anticipating since before your phone rang for the first time that night. “Now you’re gonna suck me off like a good fucking girl before I gut you.” The threat could’ve been taken suggestively or literally, but as the man pumped his entire fist around the throbbing velvet length right in front or your face, you could have sworn you drooled. But you couldn't break character, not yet, it was far too early and you wanted to see just how far this could actually go before you had to tap out.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You turned your face to the right to try and save yourself from the ever looming sexual act you knew you were about to perform. Pre-cum oozed from the throbbing tip that looked exactly like the colour of your boyfriend's lips. A mix between pink and red, the perfect soft flesh colour that you adored. It looked just as pretty on his cock, but you would tell him that, not right now. 

Not when he was dressed up as your favourite Ghost Face Killer for Halloween Eve. 

“Uh uh uh–” His voice still sounded like his, but with the mask it muffled the familiar twang you had leant to love. Without that comfort this felt all too real, you weren't going to lie and say you weren't a little scared. But that's exactly what you had asked for when Jake had agreed to do this for you. To play into one of your biggest and longest standing sexual fantasies. “Don't you turn that pretty mouth away from me, we’re just getting to know each other.” 

“I'm not sucking your dick.” You hissed through gritted teeth as the masked man crouched down a little further and used his free hand to squish your cheeks together as you kneeled before him. “Fuck you!” 

“You have two options here.” He growled from behind the mask, if you looked close enough, you could see those familiar lips of his behind the darkness. “Either you do what I say, everything, without a fucking fuss–” There was a very distinct pause that the masked man made you sit in contemplation in before he told you your second option. The one he knew you wouldn't like very much. “Oh i'll just kill you, right here right now, no one will hear you scream, no one will know who did it, you’ll become a forgotten first kill because let's face it sweetheart, no one really gives a shit unless you're a final girl.” 

There had to be someone psychologically wrong with your brian and how it was hard wired to experience pleasure, because in that moment, in that very millisecond of time, your core throbbed at the thought of being used against your very willing will. The idea of consensual non consent had been brought up a few times, by you of course. Jake took a little while to come around. He wasn’t too keen on the whole idea of forcing himself on you, he wasn’t sure how it all worked, but once he understood the concept, once he understood how to act and how to communicate while you were deep, deep in that subspace scene he knew you loved, it became as easy as riding a bike for him to please you. 

“Well?” It was like he could see the cogs turning inside your mind as your eyes never left his from behind the mask. “What’s it gonna be?” When you didn’t answer and instead involuntarily shook in his grasp, Jake took a split second to check in on you. He stood up slowly, letting the hand that had once been squeezing your cheeks caress the side of your face as he pulled you closer to his hardened sex by your hair. “What colour?” 

“Green.” You replied and within a second, Jake had made your mind up for you and was guiding his tip between your lips. 

“Suck my dick sweetheart, come on, be a good girl for me.” It was hard to pretend to protest, but you tried to keep your mouth shut until Jake was gripping your hair a little tighter until you gasped at the pain. “That’s it, good fucking girl.” 

With eager hips Jake growned at the feeling of your mouth taking him in, so warm and tight around his throbbing girth. The mask he wore, the one that seemed to get you off to the heights of heights was humid from his open mouth breathing. But like hell was he about to ruin this roll play, he’d rather pass the fuck out than ruin the illusion the both of you had so perfectly orchestrated. 

“Oh god your boyfriend’s a lucky guy isn’t he?” You couldn’t help but to look up as the man in the mask looked down at you. Fuck—your panties were soaking, arousal pooled between your folds as you felt the very tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. 

The eye contact was intense, you knew it was Jake but something about that damn mask had your head spinning so violently that your eyes watered with fear and need. You wanted to fight, to run, to fake the unwillingness to cooperate just to see how far Jake would go. 

“Don’t fight it baby—“ He growled as you strained to stop your head from bobbing up and down his length. “You’re doing such a good job, fucking whore of a thing aren’t you?” The feeling of his slightly calloused hands keeping your head right where he needed it to be was pure pleasure—being used like this, being told what to do even if you didn’t want to do it. “Fuck look at those tears, what are they for huh?” 

The man in the Ghostface mask, your boyfriend, Jake, dragged his thumb across your cheek to collect the tears that fell as he fucked your face to a rhythm that had him weak in the knees. 

“Ohhh god I’m so glad I didn’t decide to kill you straight away. Stupid girl—“ He went on to say as the tip of his hardened and throbbing cock bashed against your throat, making you gag around him before he held you still. He made sure that you couldn’t breathe, not while you were choking on him and only him. “Maybe this will teach you not to answer unknown numbers, there’s some fucked up people in this world sweetheart.” He teased as you pushed against his jean clad thighs, trying to push him away so that you could feel the sweet relief of oxygen returning to your lungs. “What did I just fucking say huh!?” 

“Let me ggoo—!” You screamed as the man in the mask pulled himself out of your mouth and let you go. He watched with a curious held hilt as you crawled away crying and gasping for air. “Get away from me!” 

Jake pumped his hand up and down his shaft a few laboured times before he stuffed himself back into his jeans and went after you with heavy strides. You hadn’t gotten far, but oh how thrilling and invigorating was it to be hunted in your own home. 

“Gee that boyfriend of yours is running real behind on schedule isn’t he?” The man in the mask chuckled as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, you were hiding just behind the countertop. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” He cooed childish as he stepped slowly, the floorboard squeaked under his boot as he did so. “Y/n, I know you’re in here sweetheart, why don’t you come out so I can cut you up.” 

You were careful not to make a sound as you placed your hands over your mouth and pulled your knees up close to your chest. Every second that passed? Your heart threatens to break out of your body. You knew deep down that the guy in the mask was Jake, but he was doing this a little too well. 

“You wanna play psycho killer?” You mumbled under your breath. You really didn’t know how you were going to get away, but you knew that the man in the mask was about to come around the corner and see you hiding clear as day. “Fine!!” 

As soon as Jake rounded the corner he was met with you first to his stomach with enough force that it had him doubling over. His moment of weakness gave you five seconds to run out of the kitchen and straight up the stairs. The plan all along has been to eventually end up in your bedroom. 

As you ran down the hall towards your bedroom, the man in the mask was quick to catch up. After all, this man was a highly skilled Naval Aviator who was fighting fit. You never stood a chance at getting away. 

“Ahhhh!” When you saw him in the mirror standing right behind you as you looked for a place to hide, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. This was what it was like to be hunted down, used, tormented. 

“What’s the matter Y/n?” The man teased as he tilted his head and stepped towards you, pointing the knife he held in his hand your way. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Leave me alone!!” The sound that came from you was something straight out of a horror movie as the man stepped closer and closer, completely ignoring your cries and pleas for him to stop.

“Get on the bed—“ Was all he demanded as he pointed the knife to the mattress. “I said, get on the fucking bed!” 

“You’re gonna have to force me or kill me because I’m not letting you touch me again.” The standoff continued in the all consuming silence of your bedroom as your core throbbed and soaked your delicate panties. This was it, all the talks, the explanations, the ideas. They all boiled down to this moment. 

You trusted Jake Seresin with your life, so much so you let him in on a fantasy of yours, a kink so deep and nasty that you’d never told any of your ex boyfriends about. You didn’t trust them to do this with you. But Jake? Ten fold. 

“Colour?” It would be one of the last check in points before you got exactly what you wanted, what you so desperately craved. Jake remained in character as he once again looked you right in the eyes through his mask. 

“Green.” At your whimperious admission, Jake lunged at you with so much force it truly knocked the wind right out of your lungs. He had you pinned on the mattress within seconds of your admission. “GET OFF ME!” 

“Shut the fuck up.” The man’s hand came up to tightly wrap about your throat, squeezing the sides to restrict your breathing. “Now listen here and listen good, I’m gonna fuck you real good, and after you cum all over me—I’m gonna make sure no one ever finds out what happened to poor sweet Y/n when she was murdered in her own damn home.” 

You were manhandled by your neck and hips to flip over onto your stomach into that position you knew your body loved the most. Doggy style. Something about the angel always sent Jake's length so deep you swore the tip of his cock kissed your cervix with every thrust. 

You felt the edge of the man’s sharp blade run slowly over the fabric of your pyjama shirt, directly down your spine as you shivered under the touch.

“I bet you're a tight little thing.” Too afraid to move, you felt the elastic of your pyjamas pants slipping past your hips until the chill of your bedroom kissed your exposed cheeks. “Holy fuck look at you, you’ve ruined your panties.” The man growled as you heard him shimmering out of his jeans behind you. “Someone likes to be taunted, don’t you darlin’?” 

Again you could do anything but remain silent and shaking in fear as you felt the man’s hands trail up under your shirt, across your smooth ass and finally down between your dripping folds. The anticipation was all consuming. 

“That boyfriend of yours is a lucky guy—“ You saw a flash of white light illuminate your bedroom for a brief moment as you felt a hand pressing your head down into the mattress. Holy mother of god he’s taking photos. “I’ll need these for later.” He admitted as another flash went off. Photo after photo. 

“Please, please don’t do this—“ You cried as you felt the tip of his cock sliding up and down through your folds. Collecting all your arousal as he did so to slick up his length to fit right inside. “Please—“ 

“I love it when they beg.” Was all the masked man said before he was pushing himself inside you. Your eyes rolled so far back into your head at the overwhelming pleasure that you swore you saw your own soul. “Ohh fughh—such a pretty pussy you’ve got, go on, scream for me darlin, no one's gonna hear you.” 

“AHHHH!” With every frightful, pleasurable thrust you screamed into the mattress. “Stop! Stop please!” 

“Oh but you feel so fucking good.” The man growled as his free hand that wasn’t pressing your face into the mattress came up to slap your ass. You jolted from the sting. “Look at that, so reactive.”

Again you felt another sharp slap as the man behind you quickened his pace. 

“Ah fuck!”

“That’s it baby, I know you love it—“ The man let go of your head as his hands came to hold

Your hips tighter than ever before, pulling you back into him as you tried to get away. “I know you love this, being used, don’t run away, stay right here on my cock.”

Jake didn’t let up as he fucked deep and hard into your push from behind. You couldn’t see the mask, but the idea of him wearing it was even to have you seeing stars. Every thrust brought you closer to that ever looming orgasm that threatened to crash over you and every slap against your ass sent you further and further into that sun space where you could just feel and exist. 

“Dirty fucking thing look at you, fucking a killer.” The man taunted you as he pulled you up by your hair so that your back was flush against his chest. When did he remove his shirt? Was it when he took his jeans off? Did he also take the mask off? “Unbutton your shirt.” He hissed as he slowed down the pace to a barely there rhythm. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you like it was dying to coat your velvet walls. 

“I said!” The man held the knife to your throat as he fucked you slowly from behind, keeping your back pressed against his chest. “Unbutton your shirt—“ 

With shaking hands and the inability to fully comprehend how pleasure filled and ignited your nerve endings were, you slowly but surely unbuttoned your shirt, leaving you in nothing but your bra. The black lace one Jake adored to no end. 

It matched the panties you’d ruined, the ones the man had dragged down your legs along with your pyjamas pants. 

“What colour?” When you didn’t answer straight away Jake frowned behind his Ghostface mask and dragged the knife away from your neck along your sternum towards your core. “Sweetheart, it’s me, I’m here, what colour are you?” The gentle words broke through the blinding spell of the role play situation you were in. It was all fake, you were safe, Jake would never do anything to hurt you. “It’s me, just me.” 

“Green—“ That was all Jake needed before he was pushing you back down onto the mattress, he manhandled you expertly so that he was on top, sliding back into you like you were his home, like you were made just for him. “Ahh! Fuck!!”

“Naughty little thing—“ He growled behind the mask that hovered over you. His hips slammed into yours as he hovered over you with a hand on either side of your body. “I can feel you trembling.”

That coil had begun to wind to new heights as you wrapped your legs around Jake's waist and dragged your nails down his back. You were getting close, oh so close to that orgasmic euphoria you’d been searching for since that first phone call. 

“Ohh fuck yes I can feel you gripping my dick, ohhh fuck, that’s it sweetheart, bet you wish that boyfriend of yours could see you like this huh?” The taunting mixed with the rhythm of Jake's rutts we’re sending you towards the edge of the cliff face you wanted so desperately to jump off. The mask that was staring you right in the face though, that’s what was doing it the most for you. “You wanna come? Wanna cum like a little whore all over my dick?” 

Needy little cries were all you could reply with as the man in the mask trailed one hand down between your bodies to circle the pad of his thumb against your sensitive bundle of nerves. “I’m close too, which means you’re gonna be full of my cum, dripping, completely stuffed full of my load.” He moaned through the mask as your back arched and your eyes rolled. You were so deep into your sun space Jake hardly recognised the please in your eyes. “Colour?” 

“I’m coming!” It was all you had the energy to say before your cries and whimpers and desperate pleas all mixed together into a babbling mantra of euphoric high. Your back arched all the way up till your stomach was pressed against Jakes and he was following within seconds. Seeing you like this, so spent and fucked out and blissfully under control made the orgasm that was pooling at the base of his shaft shoot up to overcome his entire being. 

“Ah shit! Fuck fuck fuck fuck, baby yes—ahhhh Christ!” It was one of the most intense orgasms Jake Seresin had ever had. The load he pumped inside you was thick and heavy and dripped around his shaft as he continued to fuck you deeper and fuck you through your own high. 

His back bled from your nails scraping down his muscles, but he didn’t mind, they were worth it to see you like this. 

The second he could, Jake was taking the Ghostface mask off and coaxing you to look at him while he was still buried deep inside you. Tears welled in your eyes as old tears stained your cheeks. His gentle touch made you jump. 

“Shhh baby it’s me, just me.” 

“Jake.” You sobbed as he came down to kiss your lips as gently as ever before trailing those same soft kisses across your collarbone as you came down. 

“It’s just me darlin’ you did so well for me.” He whispered sweet nothings across your fiery skin. “You played along so well.” Jake knew you were gonna take a while to come down, he knew it would take a while for you to process everything, from the phone call to the oral to the knife okay. But he already had a plan in place and a surprise organised for you tomorrow night. 

“I’m gonna run us a bath.” Jake mumbled against your skin as he left a few marks behind in his wake. You swallowed heavily in response as your body continued to experience the after effects of being so deep into role play. “I love you so much, thankyou for letting me in, for letting me bring your fantasies to life.” 

“Are you staying with me in the bath?” You could barely speak as Jake helped you up, handing you your pyjama short back as he dismounted from your bed. His cock remained flaccid and coated in a mix of your arousal and his cum. 

It was just as important to receive the aftercare than to experience the high. Jake was good like that, and you’d discussed this beforehand with him. That you’d need time to come down after and just be held and brought back to earth. Jake was more than accommodating to your needs. 

“Absolutely, I’m not going anywhere.” You managed a smile as you watched Jake pick up the Ghostface mask and stare at it. “You know there were two of these guys right?” Jake smirked as he threw it over onto your bedside table. “Kinda makes you wonder how far we could take this role play kink of yours.” 

“Who’d be your Stu Macher?” You asked as you stood from the bed to give Jake a kiss so gently it was like the wings of a butterfly had handed against his cheeks. “It’s bath time Loomis.” You cooed as you patted Jake's shoulder twice. “Come on.” 

“I’ll wash your hair for you.” Jake followed you into the bathroom eagerly before he shut the door behind him. It was good to be home. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“This is awesome.” Javy beamed when he saw you and Jake at the annual Seresin family Halloween party. The Daggers had all been granted a week's grace and they all decided to utilise the time off to attend the celebration. “Sidney and Billy, that’s awesome.” 

“If only he knew—“ Jake whispered in your ear as you giggled and pushed at his chest. You were still buzzing from your night with Jake. High on the ecstasy his Ghostface impersonation gave you. “Come on now, don’t act all shy.” Jake teased as he kissed you tenderly, tilting your chin up with his index finger. The costume was really making you dizzy, you were still all consumed by your burning desire to act out your wildest fantasies. 

“Oh.” You felt your phone ringing in your back pocket. “Huh.” You had to laugh at the irony. “It’s an unknown number?” You turned your phone to Jake as he smirked and nodded.

“You should answer it.” After all, he did have a surprise for you. “Go on now, don’t be shy.” With confusion laced into the lines and fake blood on your face, you swipt your phone along the screen and held it to your ear all the while you kept eye contact with Jake. 

“Hello?” You asked cautiously, still not sure what the hell was going on. 

“Wanna play a game?” Bradley spoke through the phone as you caught sight of him behind Jake’s shoulder. Dressed in that all too familiar ghost face costume. After all, there were always two killers. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: 🏷️ @attapullman @330bpm-whiplash @mamachasesmayhem @echo-ethe @avengersgirllorianna @nmw-am @eli2447 @hookslove1592 @kmc1989 @seitmai @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh

[unhonestlymirror]

The Spider (павук) in Ukraine and in Belarus, or Straw Garden (šiaudų sodus) in Lithuania is an ancient pagan traditional decoration for the Christmas and other holidays, made of straw. Such "spiders" are considered talismans and symbols of the universe.

This decoration reflects pagan ideas about the creation of the world, the organization of space: a "spider" that "sweeps" the world - an image of the cosmos-universe.

According to Christian legend, the spider "founded" the entrance to the cave (according to another version around a tree), in which the Mother of God and the Child hid from Herod's soldiers, thus saving the Holy Family.

Spiders were hung in the house in the centre on a long hair from a horse's tail. Thanks to the circulation of air - through the front door and from the burning stove - the big "spider" together turned in different directions, casting whimsical shadows.

The Spider or Garden used to hang over the bed of the newlyweds on the first night because it was believed to have an influence on the growth of the family. When expecting a baby, the mother would tie a straw garden specially for the child and then hang it above the cradle, and the neighbors would bring a bird, angel, racket or small garden tied from straw, which they also used to make the little one happy. The baby used to observe these straw pendants, a mini model of the universe.

During the year, the spider "protected" the owners of the house, and all misfortunes and diseases were "entangled" in its web. Since ancient times, people valued fire as a sign of purification, so a spider that "lasted" for a whole year was necessarily burned before Christmas, and a new one was hung in its place.

In Ukraine, the Spider is nowadays called the Christmas Spider and is especially popular in the north. In Latvia, it has several names: puzurs, ķists, saulīte, lukturi, krīģi, spurguļi. In Lithuania, it has even more names: liktorius (Varėnos, Panevėžio r.); voras (Ukmergės r.); vorys arba pajonkas (Suvalkai, lenk. pająk – voras); pajokas (Kaišiadorys); žarondeliai (Ignalinos r.); reketukas (Kupiškio apylinkėse); rekėžis (Kupiškio apylinkėse); krijelis (Kupiškio apylinkėse); širšuonas (Kupiškio apylinkėse); dangus (Kupiškio apylinkėse); rojus (Kupiškio apylinkėse); karulys (Mažojoje Lietuvoje).

[ohnoitstbskyen]

So: for LoL, which storyline is your favorite? And if you were to decide, what direction would you take it?

I mean, my favourite story set in any League of Legends thing by far is Arcane, but I suspect that's not quite what you mean.

Second to that is Ashe and Sejuani, specifically as their relationship is told in the Ashe: Warmother comic. It's a comic about the ways in which their relationships with their mothers shape them into the people they become - both of them consciously rejecting their mothers' legacies, and yet both of them utterly reflective of them.

Like, Ashe's mother Grena is this unflinching visionary, utterly possessed by a dream of ancient legacies, who is at once incredibly powerful and willing to sacrifice any number of lives for her vision, but also vulnerable, flawed and terrified of what her leadership will do both to her tribe and to her daughter.

And you see those qualities emerge in Ashe as she determines to become the protector of the weak in the Freljord, the champion of the Hearthbound and the vulnerable. She inherits Grena's steel-edged will and dedication to a vision of the future, even as she tries over and over again to reject her mother's obsession with ancient glories and mystical names.

Sejuani on the other hand is raised by... well, by a bitter, abusive drunk who sees her as nothing but a signifier of her own regrets and failures, and who projects all her own insecurities and weaknesses onto her child.

And Sejuani grows up both resentfully rejecting all the insecurity and pain her mother has been beating into her, but also inherits her mother's brutality and willingness to see the human beings under her command as disposable objects whose worth is measured in utility.

They are two reflections, two shadows of their mothers, and of the relationship they had to them, sisters by mutual choice and love, who are brought into conflict because their traumas have shaped them in irreconcilably different ways.

It is ENORMOUSLY compelling as a narrative about siblings, and as a framing device for the conflict in the Freljord - especially with Lissandra spooking around in the background as a universal mother-figure for the region, who in turn has her own traumas about being alienated from her sisters in ways that are similar to how Ashe and Sejuani were split apart.

The Freljord sometimes runs the risk of devolving into pop culture viking stereotypes and high fantasy pagan god nonsense (/affectionate, I love Ornn so much), but Ashe and Sejuani and their estrangement, especially as presented in Warmother, brings the thematic core of the region back down to some extremely fundamental questions about how to survive in an abusive environment - whether it be a harsh winter, or a broken family.

Warmother is a fantastic comic, everyone should read it (the art by Nina Vakueva absolutely fucks, and the approach to character design is strong as hell), and it breaks my heart that Riot's management couldn't keep their shit together with Marvel for long enough for it to get any kind of a sequel.

[a-s-fischer]

One of the things I hear a lot from Gentile witches and neo-pagans who want to work with Lilith or claim to work with Lilith, is that she is actually a Mesopotamian goddess, usually either Ishtar/Inanna or Erishkigal, and that it was the Jews, with their horrible patriarchy juice, who slandered her and cast her down, and so the Jews do not deserve to say what happens to her and it isn't antisemitism to work with her, or to completely ignore what the Jews say about what she is in a Jewish context.

Lilith is not Ishtar or Erishkigal. However, there is a Mesopotamian figure that is pretty stinking analogous to Lilith, and is probably her folkloric ancestor, by which I mean the idea of Lilith probably comes from this Mesopotamian figure. In fact, Lilith almost certainly is either a Jewish version of this figure, or, they are both descended from the same Near Eastern and Mediterranean basin folkloric figure. That figure is Lamashtu.

Lamashtu is, much like Lilith, the supernatural embodiment of maternal and infant mortality, a figure of power and terror, who functions as a way to embody and cope with the profound dangers that are pregnancy, childbirth, and infancy without effective medical care. the Mesopotamians never worshiped Lamashtu, but they did seek to appease her, including making symbolic gifts to her, to keep her from visiting them, and killing them or their children.

An interesting side note is that there is also a Mesopotamian figure who specifically opposes Lamashtu and functions as the protector of pregnant women and infants, and that figure is Pazuzu, a wind spirit, who ruled over other wind spirits, including ones called the Iilu in the Akkadian language. Akkadian is a Semitic language, related to Hebrew, and this word is probably a cognate of Lilith, but the Iilu probably have no relationship to the figure of Lilith except her name. You might know Pazuzu as the demon featured in the movie, The Exorcist, and ironic fate for a mythological protector of women and children.

Anyway, if you'll remember, I implied above that the Lamashtu/Lilith figure, was present in various guises throughout the Mediterranean basin and the Near East, so there are of course figures analogous to both of them throughout the region, such as Lamia of Greece, and the Strix of Rome.

So if you really really want to work with a figure who functions as the supernatural embodiment of maternal and infant mortality, Lamashtu, Lamia, or the strix would all be excellent options that don't come from an extant closed religious practice. All the baby killing, none of the antisemitism and cultural appropriation.

While all three figures are almost certainly descended from the same folkloric root, they're all subtly different, because as stories and characters travel, they change. as such, they all have particular good points about them as figures of veneration.

Lanashtu is the OG bad bitch, who commanded fear, respect, and offerings, like a mythological mafiosa, collecting protection money.

Lamia has attached to her the story that she was one of Zeus's dubiously willing lovers, who was screwed over first by Zeus, the embodiment of patriarchical rule, then by a jealous Hera, the embodiment of patriarchal marriage, so if what attracted you to Lilith was the story from the Alphabet of Ben Sira, about a victim of the patriarchy getting her own back through violent vengeance, Lamia might be the girl for you. With her however, the emphasis is less on her murder of children, then on her seducing and eating men, though she does also get strongly associated with killing children, especially boys.

And the strix is particularly interesting, because the word comes down to us in the modern Italian word for witch, striga. Indeed, one of the theories as to where the witch figure came from in Early Medieval, and then Early Modern Christianity, was as the strix demon made human. This might explain the close association between Early Modern Witchcraft and infant mortality, including Italian stories of witches causing infants to die seemingly natural deaths, so that they could dig them up and eat them after their funerals, something that ties these human supposed witches very closely to demonic folkloric antecedents. If you are looking for a figure of unfairly maligned female power, the strix and her close association with later human witches, might be the one for you.

All three of these figures, much like Lilith herself, are reflections, both of the power women wielded even within patriarchal societies, over the process of pregnancy, birth, and childrearing, and also the powers of death and loss that everyone was subject to. There is something powerful, transgressive, and even healthy in acknowledging the fears and dangers presented by this death and loss,and for some people, that might take the form in venerating the underlying powers. If this is something that would be spiritually meaning for you, and you wish to work with such a figure, and you are not Jewish, please respect the fact that Lilith is part of a closed religious practice, and remember that Lilith has sisters, in other parts of the Mediterranean basin and the Near East, who are not from extant closed cultures, and who might serve your needs better anyway.

[solvicrafts]

One of these days when I'm in the right mental space for it I really, really want to post about how incredibly isolating it feels to be neuro-divergent in the pagan community and, at the same time, more or less following a near-reconstructionist path despite how extraordinarily difficult it is because my brain just wired differently so I basically have to fight own instincts and inherent nature in order to practice my religion but at the same time I fight entirely of my own accord because it falls in line with my personal principles and--

[hail-our-lady-underground]

Solidarity between all religions, especially between those threatened by colonialism! Pagans, polytheists, and witches of all creeds unite for Palestine!

Share:

Prayers

Offerings

Protest posters

Spells

News

Donations

And other symbols of solidarity colored by your faith!

Never before in history had we the tools for everyone, all over the world, to resist genocide simultaneously and with such fierceness. Everything you do to keep eyes on Gaza counts. Every prayer, every action, it all amounts to something grander.

Keep talking about Israel’s genocidal, colonialist ‘war’ against Palestine. Keep praying. The divine are with us.

[thedansemacabres]

Introduction To Supporting Sustainable Agriculture For Witches and Pagans

[ID: An image of yellow grain stocks, soon to be harvested. The several stocks reach towards a blurred open sky, focusing the camera on he grains themselves. The leaves of the grains are green and the cereals are exposed].

PAGANISM AND WITCHCRAFT ARE MOVEMENTS WITHIN A SELF-DESTRUCTIVE CAPITALIST SOCIETY. As the world becomes more aware of the importance of sustainability, so does the duty of humanity to uphold the idea of the steward, stemming from various indigenous worldviews, in the modern era. I make this small introduction as a viticulturist working towards organic and environmentally friendly grape production. I also do work on a food farm, as a second job—a regenerative farm, so I suppose that is my qualifications. Sustainable—or rather regenerative agriculture—grows in recognition. And as paganism and witchcraft continue to blossom, learning and supporting sustainability is naturally a path for us to take. I will say that this is influenced by I living in the USA, however, there are thousands of groups across the world for sustainable agriculture, of which tend to be easy to research.

So let us unite in caring for the world together, and here is an introduction to supporting sustainable/regenerative agriculture. 

A QUICK BRIEF ON SUSTAINABLE AGRICULTURE 

Sustainable agriculture, in truth, is a movement to practise agriculture as it has been done for thousands of years—this time, with more innovation from science and microbiology especially. The legal definition in the USA of sustainable agriculture is: 

The term ”sustainable agriculture” (U.S. Code Title 7, Section 3103) means an integrated system of plant and animal production practices having a site-specific application that will over the long-term:

A more common man’s definition would be farming in a way that provides society’s food and textile needs without overuse of natural resources, artificial supplements and pest controls, without compromising the future generation’s needs and ability to produce resources. The agriculture industry has one of the largest and most detrimental impacts on the environment, and sustainable agriculture is the alternative movement to it. 

Sustainable agriculture also has the perk of being physically better for you—the nutrient quality of crops in the USA has dropped by 47%, and the majority of our food goes to waste. Imagine if it was composted and reused? Or even better—we buy only what we need. We as pagans and witches can help change this. 

BUYING ORGANIC (IT REALLY WORKS)

The first step is buying organic. While cliche, it does work: organic operations have certain rules to abide by, which excludes environmentally dangerous chemicals—many of which, such as DDT, which causes ecological genocide and death to people. Organic operations have to use natural ways of fertilising, such as compost, which to many of us—such as myself—revere the cycle of life, rot, and death. Organic standards do vary depending on the country, but the key idea is farming without artificial fertilisers, using organic seeds, supplementing with animal manure, fertility managed through management practices, etc. 

However, organic does have its flaws. Certified organic costs many, of which many small farmers cannot afford. The nutrient quality of organic food, while tending to be better, is still poor compared to regeneratively grown crops. Furthermore, the process to become certified organic is often gruelling—you can practise completely organically, but if you are not certified, it is not organic. Which, while a quality control insurance, is both a bonus and a hurdle. 

JOINING A CSA

Moving from organic is joining a CSA (“Community supported agriculture”). The USDA defines far better than I could: 

Community Supported Agriculture (CSA), one type of direct marketing, consists of a community of individuals who pledge support to a farm operation so that the farmland becomes, either legally or spiritually, the community’s farm, with the growers and consumers providing mutual support and sharing the risks and benefits of food production.

By purchasing a farm share, you receive food from the farm for the agreed upon production year. I personally enjoy CSAs for the relational aspect—choosing a CSA is about having a relationship, not only with the farmer(s), but also the land you receive food from. I volunteer for my CSA and sometimes I get extra cash from it—partaking in the act of caring for the land. Joining a CSA also means taking your precious capital away from the larger food industry and directly supporting growers—and CSAs typically practise sustainable and/or regenerative agriculture. 

CSAs are also found all over the world and many can deliver their products to food deserts and other areas with limited agricultural access. I volunteer from time to time for a food bank that does exactly that with the produce I helped grow on the vegetable farm I work for. 

FARM MARKETS AND STALLS 

Another way of personally connecting to sustainable agriculture is entering the realm of the farm stall. The farmer’s market is one of my personal favourite experiences—people buzzing about searching for ingredients, smiles as farmers sell crops and products such as honey or baked goods, etc. The personal connection stretches into the earth, and into the past it buries—as I purchase my apples from the stall, I cannot help but see a thousand lives unfold. People have been doing this for thousands of years and here I stand, doing it all over again. 

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Farmers’ markets are dependent on your local area, yet in most you can still develop personal community connections. Paganism often stresses community as an ideal and a state of life. And witchcraft often stresses a connection to the soil. What better place, then, is purchasing the products from the locals who commune with the land? 

VOLUNTEERING 

If you are able to, I absolutely recommend volunteering. I have worked with aquaponic systems, food banks, farms, cider-making companies, soil conservation groups, etc. There is so much opportunity—and perhaps employment—in these fields. The knowledge I have gained has been wonderful. As one example, I learned that fertilisers reduce carbon sequestration as plants absorb carbon to help with nutrient intake. If they have all their nutrients ready, they do not need to work to obtain carbon to help absorb it. This does not even get into the symbiotic relationship fungi have with roots, or the world of hyphae. Volunteering provides community and connection. Actions and words change the world, and the world grows ever better with help—including how much or how little you may provide. It also makes a wonderful devotional activity. 

RESOURCING FOOD AND COOKING 

Buying from farmers is not always easy, however. Produce often has to be processed, requiring labour and work with some crops such as carrots. Other times, it is a hard effort to cook and many of us—such as myself—often have very limited energy. There are solutions to this, thankfully:

Many farmers can and will process foods. Some even do canning, which can be good to stock up on food and lessen the energy inputs. 

Value-added products: farms also try to avoid waste, and these products often become dried snacks if fruit, frozen, etc. 

Asking farmers if they would be open to accommodating this. Chances are, they would! The farmer I purchase my CSA share from certainly does. 

Going to farmers markets instead of buying a CSA, aligning with your energy levels. 

And if any of your purchased goods are going unused, you can always freeze them. 

DEMETER, CERES, VEIA, ETC: THE FORGOTTEN AGRICULTURE GODS

Agricultural gods are often neglected. Even gods presiding over agriculture often do not have those aspects venerated—Dionysos is a god of viticulture and Apollon a god of cattle. While I myself love Dionysos as a party and wine god, the core of him remains firmly in the vineyards and fields, branching into the expanses of the wild. I find him far more in the curling vines as I prune them than in the simple delights of the wine I ferment. Even more obscure gods, such as Veia, the Etruscan goddess of agriculture, are seldom known.

Persephone receives the worst of this: I enjoy her too as a dread queen, and people do acknowledge her as Kore, but she is far more popular as the queen of the underworld instead of the dear daughter of Demeter. I do understand this, though—I did not feel the might of Demeter and Persephone until I began to move soil with my own hands. A complete difference to the ancient world, where the Eleusinian mysteries appealed to thousands. Times change, and while some things should be left to the past, our link to these gods have been severed. After all, how many of us reading know where our food comes from? I did not until I began to purchase from the land I grew to know personally. The grocery store has become a land of tearing us from the land, instead of the food hub it should be.

Yet, while paganism forgets agriculture gods, they have not forgotten us. The new world of farming is more conductive and welcoming than ever. I find that while older, bigoted people exist, the majority of new farmers tend to be LGBT+. My own boss is trans and aro, and I myself am transgender and gay. The other young farmers I know are some flavour of LGBT+, or mixed/poc. There’s a growing movement for Black farmers, elaborated in a lovely text called We Are Each Other’s Harvest. 

Indigenous farming is also growing and I absolutely recommend buying from indigenous farmers. At this point, I consider Demeter to be a patron of LGBT+ people in this regard—she gives an escape to farmers such as myself. Bigotry is far from my mind under her tender care, as divine Helios shines above and Okeanos’ daughters bring fresh water to the crops. Paganism is also more commonly accepted—I find that farmers find out that I am pagan and tell me to do rituals for their crops instead of reacting poorly. Or they’re pagan themselves; a farmer I know turned out to be Wiccan and uses the wheel of the year to keep track of production. 

Incorporating these divinities—or concepts surrounding them—into our crafts and altars is the spiritual step towards better agriculture. Holy Demeter continues to guide me, even before I knew it. 

WANT CHANGE? DO IT YOURSELF! 

If you want change in the world, you have to act. And if you wish for better agriculture, there is always the chance to do it yourself. Sustainable agriculture is often far more accessible than people think: like witchcraft and divination, it is a practice. Homesteading is often appealing to many of us, including myself, and there are plenty of resources to begin. There are even grants to help one improve their home to be more sustainable, i.e. solar panels. Gardening is another, smaller option. Many of us find that plants we grow and nourish are far more potentant in craft, and more receptive to magical workings. 

Caring for plants is fundamental to our natures and there are a thousand ways to delve into it. I personally have joined conservation groups, my local soil conservation group, work with the NRCs in the USA, and more. The path to fully reconnecting to nature and agriculture is personal—united in a common cause to fight for this beautiful world. To immerse yourself in sustainable agriculture, I honestly recommend researching and finding your own path. Mine lies in soil and rot, grapevines and fruit trees. Others do vegetables and cereal grains, or perhaps join unions and legislators. Everyone has a share in the beauty of life, our lives stemming from the land’s gentle sprouts. 

Questions and or help may be given through my ask box on tumblr—if there is a way I can help, let me know. My knowledge is invaluable I believe, as I continue to learn and grow in the grey-clothed arms of Demeter, Dionysos, and Kore. 

FURTHER READING:

Baszile, N. (2021). We are each other’s harvest. HarperCollins.

Hatley, J. (2016). Robin Wall Kimmerer. Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge and the teachings of plants. Environmental Philosophy, 13(1), 143–145. https://doi.org/10.5840/envirophil201613137

Regenerative Agriculture 101. (2021, November 29). https://www.nrdc.org/stories/regenerative-agriculture-101#what-is

And in truth, far more than I could count. 

References

Community Supported Agriculture | National Agricultural Library. (n.d.). https://www.nal.usda.gov/farms-and-agricultural-production-systems/community-supported-agriculture

Navazio, J. (2012). The Organic seed Grower: A Farmer’s Guide to Vegetable Seed Production. Chelsea Green Publishing.

Plaster, E. (2008). Soil Science and Management. Cengage Learning.

Sheaffer, C. C., & Moncada, K. M. (2012). Introduction to agronomy: food, crops, and environment. Cengage Learning.

Sheldrake, M. (2020). Entangled life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures. Random House.

Sustainable Agriculture | National Agricultural Library. (n.d.). https://www.nal.usda.gov/farms-and-agricultural-production-systems/sustainable-agriculture

[ghost-bxrd]

I’ve been getting really into magical stuff recently and also DC so I’m just gonna drop this here:

Fae Dick Grayson

F A E

okay so fae stories are special to me because I grew up on hearing pagan folklore and fairytales about fae and fae adjacent creatures as good night stories so hooo boy yes I adore that trope! (I mean, I made Dick a Banshee in my fic Shuck so… hehe)

Anyway, Fae Dick Grayson! There’s just so many things you can do with it ✨

Robin appears from one day to the next, following in Batman’s shadow like a mischievous sprite, so honestly rumors have been going wild about him since day one. Robin actually being something non-human doesn’t really come as a surprise!

The fae folk are known for being awfully good at blending in with regular humans when they put their mind to it, the only thing that puts them apart (in most stories) is their otherworldly beauty, and Dick Grayson? Well, he’s definitely got that in abundance.

Just sometimes, when the light reflects off a surface in just the right way, when someone pours a glass of water and you happen to look right through the spray, or when you think you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye and you spin around— but there’s only Dick Grayson, even if a second ago you could have sworn you saw eyes where there weren’t supposed to be any; colors that aren’t supposed to exist; feathers where only skin has any right to be.

And, gods, all the talking. Dick is terrifyingly good at talking to people without actually saying anything, to the point where you walk away from the conversation feeling utterly drained after spilling your entire life story but when you think back on it— you can’t remember him ever telling you anything about himself. You know there were the usual pleasantries of “hi” and “nice to meet you” and “how are you doing?” but anything beyond that just kinda… seemed to spill out of you? It’s very strange. It’s very unnerving. By the end of the evening you other convince yourself you’re overreacting or you simply push the incident out of your mind altogether.

And there’s another thing about Dick. His name.

He only ever introduces himself as Dick Grayson/Robin. Never Richard. Never. Especially not Richard John. Names are sacred for the fae folk, names have power, so while Richard John Grayson may not be Dick’s true name, he treats it as such to honor his parents. None are allowed to use it. None except Bruce or Alfred on special occasion.

Of course, Dick’s “true” name isn’t exactly a secret so when someone does happen to use it… well, Dick may be… other… but he’s still intrinsically good in a way many of his kind don’t have the patience to be. Dick judges on a case by case basis, just like his parents and Bruce taught him. And usually people do not mean it maliciously when they use his name so he kindly corrects them and that’s that. But oh man, if they still insist on calling him “Richard”? Well..

“Oh no, it seems your credit card is being declined, sir!”

“Sheesh, you tripped over a root? In Gotham?!”

“What do you mean ten birds flew into your window last night? You live on floor level!”

“Dude I’m telling you that rash doesn’t look normal.”

“I… don’t think crows are supposed to follow you like that.”

It’s little things (most of the time, unless you really pissed Dick off) but they keep piling up, slowly driving you insane. You feel like you’re being watched, but it’s just a bird sitting on the window sill again. You feel like someone moved all your furniture just slightly to the right even tho you checked all the cameras.

The fae are kind, but they are also vindictive when crossed.

(Thanks to Bruce, however, I think Dick’s bouts of “vengeance” rarely go much farther than that though.)

Dang ok that ended up being an entire rant… wow. Anyway, yeah. Fae.