#heathen resources

[grimnirs-child]

Masterpost: Frīg's Handmaidens Project

Who are the Handmaidens?

In the Prose Edda, twelve Goddesses are listed after Frigga as Ásynjur: Fulla, Gefjon, Hlín, Syn, Eir, Sága, Gná, Vár or Vór, Snotra, Vör, Lofn and Sjöfn. Modern Heathens sometimes refer to Them as Frigga's Handmaidens. (This is a piece of shared gnosis, not an historically attested term.) For many of the Twelve, this is all that survives in the way of attestations.

What is the Project?

Gradually over several years, and more intentionally recently, I have been building a devotional cultus around these Goddesses. As part of that, I've been putting together primers on each of the Twelve on my longform blog -- detailing Their surviving attestations, Old English God-names and epithets for Them, my own personal experiences and upg, a prayer, and devotional icon art -- as well as essays and modern myths exploring other aspects of Them and my cultus to Them.

Although I use Old English names for Them and honour Them in a syncretic heathen practice drawing on influences from across the British and Irish Isles, I hope these may be useful and/or interesting for practitioners working in a Norse, Continental, or other context. Or for anyone worshipping and building cultus to lesser-known and lesser-attested Gods!

I will update this post periodically, but if you like you can subscribe to my longform Wordpress blog for updates when I post.

Primers

Fulla

Geofen (Gefjon)

Hlēowen (Hlin)

Ār (Eir)

Saga

Lofen & Siofen (Lofn & Sjöfn)

Wearn, or Syn (Syn)

Essays and other posts

Introduction to the Project

Essay on abundance, ānanda, and Fulla

Essay on Frīg and Her importance to my cosmology

The Wren and her sister: a myth of Frīg feat. Ār and Gnæ

Essay on marriage as initiation, feat. Lofen, Siofen and Āþ

[devouredbyflame]

Loki’s Faces

I get that this is mostly considered “UPG” however, I didn’t really create all of this inside of my own head so it’s not personal. It is observed behavior from Loki during my years of time working closely with Him and in relation to others.

I don’t think any resource ever has done Him any justice and I think it’s the best practice to just not assume anything people write about Him here or otherwise is factual or evidence of His character.

Loki is controversial - but only because you cannot place Him under one single signifier. He is accessible but not because He is interested in being everyone’s friend - in fact, I’ve never really known Him to tolerate just anyone and He actively doesn’t.

The standards He has for those - humans as well as Gods - who He allows to see His true face are high.

Those who are just around for show tend to not see the entirety of who He is and instead see what He isn’t. He wears different masks for different reasons and not because He is them - they are apart of Him, but they do not define Him.

Most people will likely never see the fullest extent of Loki if only because they can’t or don’t want to. So much mixed information goes around in His community because people don’t often see who He is beneath all of the grandiosity and playfulness.

Otherwise, He is extremely private and keeps to Himself most of the time. You’ll find He doesn’t share information about Him to just anyone. He also doesn’t go out of His way to show just Himself to people, either.

It’s intentional that not everyone gets to see His truest form or nature. It would be like showing everyone your hand in poker. When all of the cards are thrown, you have the power to be defeated. Loki uses His secrecy to His advantage and tends to only show people what they want to see because it’s easier than giving them the benefit to having any sort of power over His moves in the game.

The point of this is to say most people don’t really know Loki. When I say “most” I’m not talking about only a select group of people do know Him, I mean mostly, people don’t know that He isn’t obvious about His most truthful intentions, personality, and otherwise unless He chooses to be.

I’ve been led down false paths by Him that lead to dead ends for years. I’ve been told false things that I really only told myself were true that He let me believe because it suited what He wanted from me.

I stayed in groups I thought were good for me because I thought that’s what He wanted for me. I stayed with people because I thought He wanted me to stay with them because He wanted me to power through difficult things.

In reality, Loki is an extremely discerning and opinionated Deity and would sooner have told me what He really wanted for me had it not also developed who I am as an individual and given me the power of discerning Him from my own false narrative and belief about Him. He has let me fail and believe false things about Him and others so I can get to the truth of the nature of my relationship with Him and also the truth of the people around me.

Loki is a trickster. Not because He lies or tells people false things, or because He’s full of jokes and games or leads them into chaos but He let’s them believe things that are false to show otherwise. He shows people some of who He is if it suits the way He intends on it going. He doesn’t show anyone the cards in His hand unless He knows it’ll be kept secret and hidden or if it suits His intention.

The best thing you can possibly do with Loki is to allow Him to show you Himself. Allow yourself to be part of the game and allow yourself to be shown the truth. You’re going to fail in front of Him and it will probably be miserable, but that’s part of the strategy. You’re also going to be proven wrong many times.

He will let you go in circles until He can convince you what He wants you to do. He will let you believe things about Him or others even when it hurts your feelings. He won’t try to convince you unless you’re willing to listen and give it the benefit of the doubt.

If things haven’t changed for you, if you keep having the same issue again and again, it’s probably because there’s more to it than whatever you think He is trying to say.

People who don’t like Loki or get uncomfortable by Him only tend to do so because they don’t like what they see in themselves because of Him. They don’t actually know who He is. And they likely won’t.

Trust is a reward for the failure. Trust in Him and trust in yourself because it is not handed to you willingly. If you can’t listen to your inner guidance, you’ll never really know the truth anyway and you’ll never fully listen, either. The reward is always greater than the cost in the end. Loki is generous to those who wander and those who are willing to get lost along the way.

[chosos-slut]

hey guys! hayle here, one of two admins on this blog! so i'm in the editing phase of a mahito x m!reader fic involving the yawata no yabushirazu forest in ichikawa, japan, s i thought i'd make a little post including some research i've done, as well as some information regarding some of the devices mahito and reader use to communicate with the spirits in the forest they're in. read up, and feel free to reblog this to spread the info to friends!

the yawata no yabushirazu forest, commonly shortened to "yawata forest," or "the forbidden forest," ichikawa is a sizeable and fairly developed city just outside tokyo, less than half an hour away, with an estimated population of 500,000 people. ichikawa lies in the western kiba chen prefecture of east-central honshu, japan. ichikawa is located along the edo river, and across the river borders tokyo to the west, and is also located just northwest of funabashi.

the yawata forest is home to many spiritual legends, many of which are the primary reason the forest was given its name. one fairly prevalent theory about the yawata forest is that it's involved with taira no masakado, who the japanese label to be the first samurai.

another largely effective reason the forest is so famous is because of the large expanse of trees' funny little habit of whisking people away to never be seen again, which leads me to a comment mahito makes in the story: " 'did you know that this forest is part of what inspired spirited away? the studio ghibli movie?' mahito says softly, grinning."

mahito was correct in making this comment; a considerably large piece of the inspiration for studio ghibli's animated movie spirited away was the yawata forest's silly little habit of, essentially, repeated mass kidnapping.

the story in question involves some moderately heavy paranormal content, a large part of which consists of mahito and reader using some paranormal investigation devices such as the ovilus, the spirit box, the electromagnetic field (emf) reader, and more. now don't mind me while i explain the main uses of each device that appears in the story.

the ovilus - the ovilus is a communication device invented in god knows when by bill chappel. the device used by professional and amateur/just-for-fun explorers and ghost hunters in paranormal investigations. the device works by detecting electromagnetic energy- which may appear in the form of, for example, voices that living ears can't detect- then assigning a number to it that corresponds with a word in the dictionary. spirits and other entities (ie: demons, poltergeists) use the ovilus to attempt conversations with the living people who are operating the device. some alternatives to the ovilus that operate similarly are the spirit box, the hexcom, and the polterscript.

the estes method - the estes method is a method of interworld communication used by some of the more daring explorers and ghost hunters. the method was created by karl pfeiffer during his investigation of the stanley hotel in estes park, colorado, and is now a widely popular method of communication that many people use. the method requires two or more people in order for the attempt(s) to work, and it involves one- sometimes two, as seen in some of sam and colby's videos- people putting on noise-cancelling headphones that are connected to a spirit box. the person(s) wearing the headphones are also blindfolded. the other member(s) of the group ask the spirits questions and attempt general conversations with the spirits in the room or area, and the spirits or entities may choose to or not to use the spirit box to speak into the headphones, sometimes in response to questions asked by the living side of the conversation, and the wearer(s) of the headphones and blindfold repeat every word they hear. the estes method is very effective, and many questions asked receive an answer, but sometimes the words they spirits say are random, and sometimes they're unsolicited tid bits of information corresponding to the spirit's death, their opinions, their goals, etc.

the séance method - the séance method is another common communication method used by explorers and paranormal investigators. this method is sort of similar to the estes method, but this one fortunately doesn't involve cutting off people's two most important senses. the seance method involves setting candles in a circle on a table or floor and lighting them, and it's not uncommon for people to put cups of water and relevant objects inside the circle and surround the circle of candles and/or sometimes the area directly around them with a line of salt as an attempt to keep potential poltergeists and malevolent spirits at bay of physical contact; most people don't want to be scratched and burned by demons posing as little girls with depressing death stories. the séance method has been used many times in historically famous attempts at conversation with spirits, demons, poltergeists, etc., and seems to have a lightly sporadic rate of failure versus success in comparison to the estes method, which almost always works, whether it's just the spirit box spewing shit or an actual spirit.

sources :

a largely common source i'd like to give credit to for the information in this post is hada, my lovely professional ghost hunting boyfriend, fellow owner and creator and primary organization person of this account!

yawata forest location/landscape informationovilus informationthe estes methodtaira no masakadoan interesting example of an investigation/exploration of the forest

this post shall be updated as i continue to write the story. feel free to subscribe to the conversation in the comments under the post if you'd like to ask me a question or make a comment! i'm always open to new information and ideas for the story, and new bits of history as well! please do like this post if you found it interesting, and feel free to reblog this to spread the info to friends!do not copy or repost this information verbatim on other fandom and social media sites, i am a law student and i am in full understanding of my rights of copyright. you have been pleasantly warned.

note from hayle: dont ask me abt the range of post tags. also i warn you now, the story that is the reason you're reading this post involves demonic possession, and the scene is incredibly graphic.

[satanourunholylord]

SEIDR 1:8 - Magic in Norse Tradition

This video is part of a series of 8 videos, where Annette will lead you on a journey through literary sources, old and new research, and 30 years of modern experience of Seidr, towards a deeper understanding.

[taking-thyme]

The Structure of a Pagan Prayer

When appealing to a deity or making an offering, it’s wise to know how this was traditionally done in the past so you can be as respectful as possible and build a true reciprocity with the gods. This type of prayer structure is found in all manner of pagan religions from Norse paganism, Hellenic (Greek) polytheism, Kemetic (Egyptian) prayer and so on. I got the inspiration and much of the information here from @Ocean Keltoi on Youtube who is a fantastic scholar and Norse heathen who actively stands against prejudice and is all around a wonderful resource. 

Now, there are three main elements of a pagan prayer, which should be done in this order:

1. The Invocation. This is where you call upon the specific god you’re hoping to connect with. Think of it as writing the name and address on your letter to the Gods - it lets the deity know that this prayer is directed at them, which is important in a polytheistic religion with many gods. To start your invocation, address the deity directly by name, or use an epithet or kenning that they're known by. It's especially wise to choose an epithet that relates to what you're praying for, like using one of Apollo's healer epithets while addressing him in a prayer about a loved one's sickness,  for instance. It’s also a good idea to praise them highly and with a certain air of reverence. These are ancient deities after all. 

2. The Argument. Here you give your reasons for why a deity should fulfill your request and favor you. If you’ve brought offerings, cite them here. You can also include reasons for why you’re reaching out, such as love in a prayer for Aphrodite or matters of justice with the god Tyr. This is where you make your case to them. And if you’re reaching out to a deity you don’t have a working relationship with, which let’s be honest will be the case many more times than we’d like, then you can tell them this here also. A good example might be “Oh Tyr, one-handed war god and son of Odin, though we have not met before I have heard your name and been called to it…”

3. The Request. Finally you ask the gods to look kindly on your request and to grant you their blessing. Again, be as respectful and reverent as possible towards them. 

Prayer Example: “Grey-eyed Athena, daughter of thundering Zeus, if ever I have poured out sweet wine for you, look kindly on me and grant me your wisdom.”

How to stand when making the prayer

This depends on which God you’re reaching out to and, of course, your own personal comfort. The most common ways of praying are to stand and perform some gesture of reverence, kneel while praying and even prostrate, kneeling fully on the ground with your head down as you appeal to the gods. Some might also choose to wear veils when performing prayers or rituals for deities, though this is naturally up to the individual. 

In Hellenic tradition, if you’re praying to an Ouranic god (deities of the heavens) you would traditionally wear your hair up and stand with your arms raised to the heavens while reciting your prayer. Meanwhile, if you are praying to a Chthonic god (deities of the underworld), you would kneel and face downwards towards the Earth with your hair flowing freely. 

Some Norse sources tell of ancient pagans prostrating before the gods, and yet this is still not entirely necessary. Pray however you see fit and what is most comfortable for you at the moment. 

^ This is what prostrating looks like

Sources:

Ocean Keltoi's video on pagan prayers

Hearth and Fire Work's blog post on Hellenic prayer structure

[what-even-is-thiss]

What do you think would our world be like if Christianity hadn't been invented? I'm not trying to start an anti-christianity argument, I am just wondering... Because it transformed our world and our cultures so much. For example, no Christianity = no colonization as we know it, would we still believe in heathen / nature gods or would another religion colonize the planet? What would that look like? Would we even have racism? Since "race theory" was invented by white christian colonizers to "justify" slavery.

I do think that it’s possible colonization would’ve happened in one form or another. What it would’ve looked like, I’m not sure. But people often forget that cultures with religions other than Christianity have historically erased and conquered.

As a Christian I don’t excuse the sins of those who share my faith. Their forgiveness is up to their victims, themselves, and God. And I recognize that Christians as a whole have a tendency to ignore our bloody history. But I also don’t think the world would necessarily be that much better without it. Different? Absolutely. Better? How would we know that? It wasn’t the only or first major religion to spread like wildfire. It wasn’t the only or first religion to be used to justify atrocities. Look at historical examples in Communist countries. Atheism being used to erase people’s religions. Look at the history of Islam. One of Mohammad’s first big feats was launching a military campaign. Look at Ancient Rome. Even though they let people keep their gods they still plugged their own gods in where they didn’t fit, used them to justify horrible atrocities, and severely discriminated against Jewish people.

People in power just want an excuse to justify their actions. Religion or lack thereof makes for a convenient excuse whether we like it or not. Without Christianity the world would still have power-hungry people looking to force their will on others and they’d find an excuse. Possibly in some other religion, possibly in something else. But Christianity became a world religion so long ago that I cannot tell you what I think would’ve happened exactly. If modern racism wasn’t invented something would still be contributing to discrimination.

Perhaps the cult of Isis would’ve taken over the world. It had some similar ideas to Christianity in some ways including a focus on love and a good afterlife for its followers and it was spreading a lot even though some tried to ban it. Maybe it was on its way to being the state religion before my guy Jesus showed up. And temples and shrines of Isis being erected in town squares would be the first step in colonizing an area.

Perhaps the Chinese would be the first to colonize the new world. Or the Arabs. If Islam existed in some form or another. Or even with their old gods. Perhaps the traders of west Africa or the Norse. If you ask me, someone at least was bound to make contact across the water one way or another and unfortunately bring diseases like smallpox and measles with them. What their response would’ve been, I’m not entirely sure. Humans are often xenophobic, but they are also often caring.

It’s taken centuries for the native populations of the Americas to return to their pre-Columbus numbers. Whether or not that recovery would’ve happened faster under different leadership, I’m unsure because as the different colonizers demonstrated over time, there’s many different ways to “deal” with native populations. The English preferred to drive them out, the Spanish attempted to absorb them through intermarriage, the French slowly encroached on their territory and disrupted and took over their economies. And later in Africa and Asia the goal by all was generally to use the land and it’s people as a resource rather than a place to live.

Colonization was an extreme example and expansion of pre-existing techniques and attitudes. There can be arguments made that something like colonization was inevitable eventually with expanding technology such as better ships and guns. There can also be arguments made that it wasn’t. That guns don’t promise colonization. Perhaps something akin to old empires would’ve happened instead. Which isn’t always much better but is more contained.

Whether or not Russia as it exists at the size it is today is also up for debate. Some would argue it’s inevitable. Someone setting up shop in that exact spot has several flat weak points of land easy to invade from so any empire in that spot would find that the only way to protect themselves would be to own all of the land surrounding them. Then again, perhaps nothing is inevitable and that patch of land would be conquered and reconquered switching hands forever.

Alternate history is almost pure speculation. It’s fiction. A popular genre of fiction. You can probably find a book out there telling a story about this if you like.

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“(Don’t) Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Christmas (Holiday) Smut, Red Ribbons, Candy Canes, Peppermint Sensations, Sleigh Bells, Sexy Santa References, Dean is Tied Up, Edging, Oral Sex, 69, Vaginal Sex, Reader is a Naughty Little Vixen, Dean deserves a proper (sexy) Christmas.

Word Count: 2700

Summary: Dean saved Reader from the supernatural on Christmas Eve years ago. Every Christmas since, she has always found a way to show her unending appreciation.

Notes: This smutty little fic is a holiday gift for @jessjad for the 2023 SPNFanFicPond Secret Santa Fic Exchange. I hope you enjoy the reader’s sexy times with Dean.

Big thanks to @sam-is-my-safeword and runawaydr3amer (AO3) for reading the first draft and helping with a great many awesome smut ideas. Additional thanks to runawaydr3amer, who also beta’d this fic and packaged it up nice and shiny. 

Merry holidays!

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo, and this part will fill my "Edging" square.

Resources:

Collage created in Canva

Pic found on Google (Fanpop)

Song Reference: Santa Baby by Joan Javits and Philip Springer (listen/watch this version sung by Eartha Kitt)

Dean sinks those pearly whites into the flesh of his bottom lip. His top lip pulls up and back into a painful sneer. The usual rosy, pillowy fullness of that mouth is instead taut, whitening under the capture. You laser focus onto the pointy canine denting into the mouth you have debated sitting on since you began this teasing challenge.

jingle

You finish fashioning a sweet little bow with the ribbon. It’s ruby red and velvety soft.

“Well, I think that’s about the prettiest package I ever did wrap.”

jingle

“What do you think, Mr. Claus?” you ask, your voice as innocent and demure as you can manage.

Dean opens his mouth and expels a slow gasp. jingle “Fuck, sweetheart. You aren’t playin’ fair.”

“That’s the whole point.”

You rise from the edge of the bed and take in the entire scene. It’s magnificent. 

He’s magnificent.

Dean is lying atop the forest green comforter of your bed. Naked. Well, not totally naked. A red ribbon - adorned with one single sleigh bell - binds his wrists together and anchors him to the headboard. His arms, jutting out and bent to create a diamond-shaped frame around his face, give you a prime ticket to the gun show. Biceps flex and tendons raise under the skin as he tries to remain as motionless as possible.

jingle

You aren’t a complete heathen. He’s got a fluffy pillow, the same deep green color as the comforter, to rest his head atop. Dean is anything but sleepy. He’s wound up. He stares back at you, the green of his irises electric and flaming with intensity.

You anticipate how sublime it will feel to strum the cords of his neck. Tickle your fingertips down that chest. You imagine Dean ring-a-ding-dinging and cursing himself if you take the time to trace the outline of his tattoo. Circle those perky nipples. Dip into his belly button and follow his treasure trail of baby-fine hair.

You marvel again at the other ribbon that you tied. You’d purchased a couple yards of red velvet at the craft store weeks ago with this in mind. With him in mind. You were ecstatic it had been enough to criss-cross around the crease below that fine ass. It wraps over a slight vee along his waist. The makeshift holiday jockstrap has Dean’s beautiful, now fully erect, cock sporting a bow.

Dean sighs. “Are you done decking my balls?” jingle

You giggle and fiddle with the belt of your robe. It’s red as well, but made of silk. “As we discussed, the end result of all of this is all up to you. Santa.” You flip a switch to turn off the ceiling light. The sconces stay on above the headboard. Two halos figure eight over Dean’s beautiful body, awash in a warm amber glow.

He’s a full print ad of holiday cheer and sinful debauchery.

“You’re being very naughty, (jingle) Mrs. Claus.” Dean licks his top lip—your core clenches at the deep timbre of his scolding. 

You’ve been wet since you both finished Christmas dinner. Since you told him you had one more gift for him waiting upstairs. Since you left him in the bedroom with orders to strip while you changed in the bathroom. Since you pulled out the ribbons. Since you explained that if he was good and could keep his jingling down to a minimum through what you had planned, you’d fuck him into the New Year.

You inhale and shrug, then begrudgingly turn your back to the sight. It takes a few taps on your phone for you to get to the song. You stifle another giggle at the little jingles Dean can’t help as he waits. 

Once you tap the play button, the festive and recognizable melody begins. A barbershop quartet bah-bums a bit before the sultry and smooth vocals of Eartha Kitt take the lead.

You look back over your shoulder at Dean and whisper along with Eartha.

You peel the silky robe off one shoulder then the other. Dean groans when the layer slips down to the floor. jingle

“Shit.” He moans and you grin in satisfaction at the hoped for reaction.

You turn back to face him, adding a dramatic hair flip. You're wearing a sexy little Mrs. Claus outfit. It’s a red velvet dress with a scandalously high skirt and a low-cut halter. White fur lines both the top and bottom. It’s all cinched nice and tight around your waist with a black belt and a gold buckle.

You bend at the knees and lean forward, shoulders folding in and hands resting on your thighs. It gives Dean the perfect vantage to ogle your cleavage. You purr along with the next line and modify the lyrics a smidge.

“Man, I must have been a really good boy this year.” Dean stares in awe, not even caring how much he’s jingling with his squirms atop the bed.

You let it slide for the time being, thrilled at the kid in a candy store grin plastered on his face and the way the bow sways with every twitch of his cock.  

Dean tilts his head to the side. His gaze begins at your red-glitter heels and canvases every inch of skin from ankles to thighs. He pauses, stopping to stare at the hint of flesh under the skirt hem. jin-jingle jingle jin-jingle He pants out, “Mrs. Claus forgot her panties, huh?”

You lift a finger and wiggle it back and forth in the air. “Uh-uh-uh. Remember, really good boys stay still if they want their present.”

The bell jangles no matter how carefully he attempts to reposition himself. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbles and you laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll be good,” he whispers soft and sweet.

The heels tap across the hardwood as you walk over to settle beside Dean. You adjust your skirt to let the scant amount of fabric fan over your naughty bits. Being so close to him makes you forget the lyrics to sing along with Eartha.

You rest a hand on his chest. Through clenched teeth, Dean inhales at the touch, the rest of him frozen in place. The bell is silent. Your other hand grabs one of the candy canes you had left on the bedside table. For reasons.

Watching him fight every urge he has to reach out and touch you is fascinating. And the power you have over him gives you a head rush. You continue the tease, twirling the candy between your fingers, then laving the cane’s hook with your mouth and tongue. Dean garners some pity from you as he whines, brows downturned, eyes attentive to your every swirl and suck. You swing the cane close to his mouth. “Wanna taste?”

He swallows. “Wanna taste you,” he states, the hint of hope escaping around the edges of a soft moan.

The thrill of his need quickens your pulse. No other man has loved and adored you as thoroughly and exuberantly as Dean Winchester. You nod. “You will. But, first,” you rub the wet-slick candy cane over his bottom lip, “show me what that mouth wants to do.”

“You know what this mouth can do,” he reminds with a little sass, letting the candy cane tap against his bottom teeth. 

But soon enough, he indulges you. He slips the hook between his lips. His tongue slides out under the curve of peppermint, lapping at the sticky sweet. Again and again. Your breath hitches into your open mouth as you watch, enthralled at the ministrations of that thick and powerful muscle. He sucks the confection in a little farther, pursing his lips. The sounds he’s making, enjoying the treat, are downright pornographic and send any extraneous bell ringing to the back of your hearing queue. The red food coloring coats them like lip gloss by the time you break from the spell of his show. You guess it’s been minutes since Eartha finished her rendition of ‘Santa, Baby.’ The rest of the playlist you created has soft and dreamy instrumentals.

“My turn,” you cajole. You tug on the cane. He relinquishes, but not without some resistance. A little pop escapes his mouth once the hook is freed. You marvel at the progress he made. The hook end is substantially shorter and thinner than when he began.

He sniffs and tilts his chin up in pride. jingle “Your turn with that, or my turn with you?”

The cane slips back into your mouth, your fingers sticky from all the handling. You stand, kick off your heels, and climb back onto the bed on your knees. You grin as you suck on the candy.

His eyes soften. “Be careful, baby. Don’t want you to choke. Well, at least not on that.” He smirks.

He’s right. Safety first. You toss the candy onto the bedside table.

“You are so (jingle) fucking hot in that (jingle) outfit.” He grins and waggles eyebrows in anticipation. “Gonna let me down your chimney, Mrs. Claus?” jingle jingle jingle

The actions in the next few seconds are a blur. You wonder if Dean has some sort of Jedi mind control ability. Because even though you are supposed to be the one making decisions this evening, his seductively god-awful puns find you sitting on his face, reverse cowgirl. 

“You might get the golden ticket to all my secret places if you’re lucky.” Your fingers tip-toe down his chest like a grinch about to steal someone else’s presents. 

jingle jingle jingle

“Fuckin’ hell,” Dean murmurs under your skirt. Hot breath bathes your inner thighs and other areas you hope will soon be explored.

Your hands rest in the little divots created by his pelvic bones while you take his body in and plan your method of attack. You pull on the ribbon and release his cock of the bow. Then, you’re deep throating him like he’s your last meal.

Not one to be outdone at an all-you-can-eat buffet, Dean’s entire face gets in on the feast as well. Nerves respond to the tingling sensation of the residual peppermint on Dean’s lips and tongue. You shiver at the gloriously heightened sensitivity when he pulls back to blow on your pussy. “This is so much better than milk and cookies.” He moans and groans and jingles all the way. 

As much as you’re loving the taste of his precome, the velvet texture against your tongue, and the way the tip triggers a tiny gag reflex at the base of your throat, it’s time to remind him of the consequences of all that noise he’s making. You release the hard length from your mouth and try to concentrate on your own breathing during the absolute virtuoso way he’s eating you out. As much as you’d love his fingers to get in on the action, you know you’d have no control over the situation. You sigh in relief that he’s trying to adhere to some parts of the game. The pitiful, half-hearted ribbon shackling of his hands to the headboard is no match for Dean Winchester.

You steady yourself on wobbly knees and one shaky elbow. A firm grip around the base of his cock makes Dean gasp. He stills after that. In your mind’s eye, you picture the beauty of that mouth and how his luscious pink lips were slick with peppermint. You imagine how slick they are with you now. “Sorry, baby,” he murmurs and you feel him settle back onto the pillow. “I’ll be as quiet as I can. Can you blame me, though? Here I am, under your sweet little skirt, in the dark (jingle)... shit, sorry. But, you can’t drop a five-course meal in front of a starving (jingle) man and not expect him to wanna little taste.”

You squeeze his cock. “That’s part of the challenge.”

“I’m always up for a challenge. You always make me feel so good.”

You groan at the praise he bestows. Without releasing your hold, you shimmy off his chest. Channeling the prim and delicate sensibilities of Mrs. Claus, you crawl along the comforter and settle between nutcracker bow legs. With knees tucked under you and sat atop bare feet you accept him in your mouth again and get to work. 

You take in the sight of Dean inventorying your every action. He’s gripping the top of the headboard with both hands to steady his upper body. You clock that the little stinker has also managed to palm the sleigh ball in an effort to silence or, at the very least, muffle it. You consider that move cheating. But he feels so sublime that you can’t bear to part with him to voice your irritation. He’s also whispering the sweetest filth to you while he watches.

“Damn. Yeah. Those lips of yours feel so good around my cock. You take it so good, baby. Wish I could fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, but I’d definitely jingle-jangle way too much.” A tongue swipe over his top lip accentuates the glossy look of his ruby-tinted mouth in the warm light. “You really are too good to me. You give the best Christmas presents.” He stiffens further with each downstroke. “Aw, yeah. Suck it.” Your rhythm increases. “So pretty. Wanna touch you so bad.” He gasps. “Fuck, I’m gettin’ close.” jingle jingle   

You clamp around the base again and squeeze, freeze mid-swallow - your lips around the tip - as soon as he rings.

Dean squirms and grumbles.

You continue to bring him to the edge of orgasm, then halt. Your jaw is aching along with the rest of your body as time passes.

You’ve fucked Dean up in the best way possible. He’s blissed out, wound up tighter than a spring. You’ve got him begging. But his words grow into admonishments with each successive denial. “You can’t keep doing this, baby. There’s gonna be consequences. Santa’s gonna for real put you on his naughty list. Nothing but coal in your stocking,” he huffs.

You give your mouth a reprieve and stroke him. “Is that all that happens to naughty girls?”

He gnaws at his bottom lip before offering, “You really wanna find out?”

You nod.

The ribbon binding Dean to the headboard shreds with one mighty tug. He pitches the sleigh bell in the air. It jingles as it pinballs around the room. 

You gasp as he cinches those hands under your armpits and drags you up his body. He crushes his lips into yours, tastes you with his tongue. The mixture of your arousal and a hint of peppermint melts you in his arms. Then, a sudden and swift rollover pins you beneath him.

He hovers, tosses your skirt up to your chest, and wedges between your legs. His hard, heavy cock slips into your folds and glides through your wetness. “I could drag this out. Or.” It’s his turn to tease. He notches snug against your entrance. You’re surprised your muscles haven’t pulled him into you of their own accord the way your entire body spasms with need. He whispers in your ear, “Let me be your Santa, baby.”

You gasp, “And hurry down the chimney tonight.”

He groans in victory and slides in, balls deep. He thrusts. One massive hand gathers your wrists together on the pillow above your head to anchor you in place. Fingers of his other hand grip the top of the headboard. Every sway in and out of you gets more frenetic. You’re screaming his name and he’s cursing yours. 

“Good girls do what they’re told,” he states, out of breath, face reddening. His gaze locks with yours. He slows down. Releases your hands. Finds your clit amid the white fur and red velvet. Strums. Angles and hits your sweet spot deep within you with a harsh abandon. “Come.”

Minutes later, after you’ve both orgasmed, you’re curled into his chest. “That was…” you manage between heavy exhales.

“Yeah, that was awesome.” He kisses your forehead. “Every year, since I saved you from that ghost on Christmas Eve, you find a way to outdo yourself with the holiday cheer.”

“Well, you deserve it. I’m glad you can get away for a little while and get a special treat.”

He sighs. “You know, you don’t have to feel obligated to…”

You rest a finger atop his lips. “How I see it. Guy saves your life one time, you owe him the rest of yours.”

He smiles and pulls you in. “How about we just focus on tonight, yeah?”

You nod. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

[skaldish]

I got a folkist arguing with me that loki is only a bad god. Do you have any resources to prove he's been helpful?

Also how does Norse heathenry not have orthodoxy or orthopraxy?

That's entirely predicated on whether the folkist would accept any proof you give them. And in my experience, they don't, because that would require them to change their worldview, and their purpose of arguing with you is to reinforce what they already believe in.

You are simply a prop in the story they're telling themselves. I recommend blocking and moving on.

As for your second question: Norse Heathenry has no orthopraxy or orthodoxy because it never developed any.

A religion develops doctrines when its parent society develops centralized agricultural practices, which allows for a more effective division of labor. This allows for the development of an intellectual class, and praxis would develop as a byproduct of continued philosophical discussion. This is also when a religion starts addressing questions of transcendence (afterlife, greater design, nature of the soul, etc) in earnest.

But Northern Europe was late to the Iron Age and didn't see this development until after the Christian conversion, so the Heathen praxis everyone keeps digging around for can't be found because never existed in the first place.

We also can't retroactively conclude what may have emerged if Christianity hadn't been introduced. The only thing we can do is pick up where it left off and let it develop organically as it always has.

[baeddelations]

Nazi germany is "uniquely evil" in the sense that western nationalist mythology needs it to be the most evil thing it can think of. It is an important spectre in tge western psyche as so unlike the nation state that they exist in. While blatantly ignoring the apocalypse level genocides that made it into what it is today. I think alot of this is yes the erasure and white washing of these histories, and the need for enemy that constitues nationalism, but also is about the way we frame these massacres.

This history allows for willfull ignorance. Obfuscation of the humanity of the other through exaggerated difference, (Savages, heathens, barbarians) but in the example of Nazis we often focus in on the antisemitism of their machinations. Anti-semitism is a such a central pillar to this ideology bc in a lot of ways, then and now, they had been thorughly integrated into the vague hegemonic social structure that we often refer to as whiteness. This is important for conspiracy theories bc you need a part of the conspiracy to have wealth and power. It was important to the nazis for similar reasons with different ends: nationalizing those resources into the war machine.

Narratively for the rest of the world this is important for the reason jewish folks could be framed as citizens(not savages, heathens, barbarians) this is the uproar and this is why it is so focused on the jewish genocide when we talk about the holocaust, and often allow for the genocide of queer ppl, disabled ppl, itinerant ppl, mad ppl, romani ppl, black ppl, various eastern europeans, free masons, and religious minorities to go undiscussed. There were far more jews in the country at the time than any of these other groups individually but more total of these groups killed than total jewish ppl killed. Obviously all of these deaths are atrocious but it is uniquely atrocious bc ppl deemed citzens in the psyche of the western world were killed.

So much of the atrocities happening in nazi germany were being perpetrated by the rest of the western world just not to citizens. The holocaust spurred this assimilation and the large scale support of the 9th crusade(israel). So yes it is "unique". it needs to be so that we can exceptionalize it, to excuse the rest of us.

[salmalin]

IDK if someone's already said this, but I really like the bit of FF7 Rebirth world-building where Kalm is pumping in Mako from Midgar for power instead of having a reactor of their own because, like... They have all the benefits of a healthy ecosystem specifically by shuffling off their ecological damage elsewhere. It's pretty accurate to the reality of our need for electricity, but also people's willingness to push the problem off on someone else. And, at the same time, they're kind of powerless about it. There are no alternatives for energy sourcing. Shin-Ra is a monopoly.

Republic technology has been largely lost due to Shin-Ra essentially hunting them to extinction, and its application requires resources that just don't exist anymore due to the fall of the former government and the collection of taxes to create large projects. The writers for Final Fantasy 7 really did stand up and say, "A fairly organized government is always preferable to capitalism running wild." Call me a heathen, but these changes feel more true to the heart of the original Final Fantasy 7 than, well... the original.

[grimnirs-child]

New post on my longform blog -- I discuss the Goddess Saga, Her attestations, and my personal experiences and associations with Her. I also offer some Old English epithets I use for Her and a short poem/prayer.

This is part of a wider project I've been working on covering the twelve Goddesses sometimes called Frigga's Handmaidens -- when I've got a mo I'll knock together a masterpost for here with all the links so far. The Twelve are often considered "minor" Gods because They have so few attestations, but They are all incredibly near and dear to my heart and I wanted to share why.

[devouredbyflame]

Gatekeeping the Divine in the Community

A recurring problem within the community is that people feel as though the Divine need to be gatekept. They use this sort of thing to their advantage and it’s not for any real reason that is ever explicitly appointed in any theosophical records or any part of any pantheon ever. It is simply humans who are gatekeeping the Divine from humanity.

The value of knowing that you are intrinsically entwined with the Divine is something that gatekeepers do not intend on telling you. They are afraid that the moment you start realizing that your whole life, you’ve been uniquely attuned to the Divine and you just didn’t see it because they themselves do not benefit from empowering your capacity to be called to the Divine. They make more money off of selling you a fantasy of books that tell you what you need to do in order to better communicate with the Gods and sell some sort of hope that recreating the past is going to make the Gods come back to life again – as if They disappeared and are now making a reappearance.

However, there are those of us called to do certain work and it can be pretty breathtaking to say the least. Most haven’t any capacity to state their experiences because there is no framework within our society to do so so they grapple with whatever books are there on the market and then gaslight their own experiences to be reconciled with what is already known to be true. They’ll sooner invalidate their own opinion because it is more uncomfortable to be on the fringes than to be considered a popular person in an already niche environment.

Read the rest of this post and others like it here:

[thorsvinur]

Resources for Those Wanting to Learn about Pre-Christian Time Reckoning in Northern Europe and its Application in Modern Heathen Traditions

Throughout the history of the modern Neo-Pagan movement, the calendar that has been used by most practitioners has been either the Wiccan Wheel of the Year or another calendar heavily influenced by it. The Wheel of the Year draws largely upon a mixture of Celtic (Gaelic) and Anglo-Saxon traditions, splitting the years into quarters with quarterly and cross-quarterly celebrations and beginning the year at the end of October with the originally Gaelic festival of Samhain.

The calendars that have come to be popular for the majority of the modern Heathenry movement have undoubtedly been based in this calendar, with the major changes being to the names of certain celebrations. On the calendar created by Stephen McNallen for the AFA, Lammas became Freyfaxi, Mabon became Winter Finding, Samhain became Winter Nights, etc. Other organizations such as Forn Sidr of America, The Ásatrú Community, etc. have created their own versions of the calendar as well, but at their roots they all exist essentially as a modification of the Wheel of the Year concept.

More (relatively) recent research and scholarship has brought a greater awareness of older time reckoning systems within Heathen circles as well as amongst history enthusiasts. Some of this has focused on the Old Icelandic calendar as well as the primstav tradition, and while both of these have validity to them the Old Icelandic calendar already had some changes to how it worked from the older system and the primstav used a standardized dating system based in the Julian calendar. Still, these are both useful tools in attempting to reconstruct the pre-Christian (or at least pre-Julian) calendar systems of the Germanic, and particularly Scandinavian, peoples of Northern Europe.

Why is this at all important in an age with the Gregorian calendar used most everywhere and especially for those outside of Scandinavia? Because for those trying the build an understanding of or relationship with these cultures, or even just more connected to the earth in general, the way they reckoned time helps to understand their relationship and connection to their environment, the flow of seasons, how they viewed the different parts of the year and adjusted their activities accordingly, etc. It helps to understand the "why" behind the ritual cycle, even in the names of the months themselves.

Below are a few of the primary resources that I have found helpful in learning about these topics, as well as a graphic representation that I have made based on my research so far to represent the reconstructed Old Norse lunisolar calendar. Note that I don't claim to be an expert on this topic, so I could certainly be wrong in some of the details, and some of the months also have multiple names from which I chose one to use. Also, there were multiple time reckoning systems in use during the period, including a week-counting system, so there can also be conflicting information depending on which is being considered.

Sources:

"Jul, disting och förkyrklig tidräkning: Kalendrar och kalendriska riter i det förkristna Norden" by Andreas Nordberg

- Available as a free PDF, the majority of this is written in Swedish, but it contains a fairly concise English summary at the end. It focuses primarily on Old Norse Jól (Yule) as well as the Dísaþing/Disting and Dísablót in Sweden, but it touches on other celebrations and uses these to establish the overall scheme of the lunisolar calendar system.

"The Festival Year: A Survey of the Annual Festival Cycle and Its Relation to the Heathen Lunisolar Calendar" by Josh Rood

-Also available as a free PDF, this paper expands upon Norberg's work as well as others' and goes through the overall festival year of the pre-Christian Scandinavians.

"The Lunisolar Calendar of the Germanic Peoples: Reconstruction of a bound moon calendar from ancient, medieval and early modern sources" by Andreas Zautner

-This book is sort of a dive into a number of different ancient to early modern calendar systems, but it uses all of these to reconstruct lunisolar time reckoning systems not only for Scandinavians, but for other Germanic peoples as well. It's a great read for those interested in pre-Julian time reckoning in Northern Europe as well as Medieval calendar systems in general.

"The Nordic Animist Year" by Rune Hjarnø Rasmussen

-Similarly to Zautner's book, Rasmussen draws upon a variety of Medieval calendar systems in his work, but his goal, rather than reconstructing an Old Norse calendar is to create a modern calendar based in animist traditions of Northern Europe. It undoubtedly uses the lunisolar system as a base and takes a lot from Old Norse sources, but it also incorporates later traditions which are based in animist knowledge and have value in establishing a system of seasonal animism.

And lastly, my Old Norse lunisolar calendar representation. Each month starts on a new moon, represented by a black dot, and the festivals are shown at the full moons, being white dots. You may notice the lack of Þorrablót and Miðsumar (Midsommar) on here. Regarding Þorrablót, I'm not as well researched on the origins of it and how widespread it may have been. For Miðsumar I have long refrained from including it due to the absolute lack of mentions in literary material from during or shortly after the period, but I have been pointed to some instances of it marked on primstavs as July 14th (Julian calendar), suggesting a possible lunisolar observance of it earlier similar to Jól's relationship to the winter solstice.

[stark-boys-simp]

i would not ask, and neither would you

aemond x witch!reader

tags: smut smutty smut smut, minors go away, ooc aemond probably, pining, hands brushing against each other, this could alternately be titled autistic bitches in love, the reader is implied to worship the old gods but you can interpret it however you want, not proofread we die like vaemond

a/n: i’ve been insanely busy and this is so late but this was very inspired by a dragon without wings by @rottingviserys which is one of my favorite fics ever so definitely go read that!!

that fucking dragon had crushed all of her morels, she thought crossly.

the rare, delicious mushrooms were difficult enough to find as it was, and when the huge dragon had fallen from the sky, it had fallen right onto the patch she’d been cultivating for a year.

humming in annoyance, the witch walked over to the huge beast. definitely dead. huge fucker. big as a castle. still, maybe she could use its blood or teeth or hide for something useful.

she stepped close to its head, poking the scaled flesh gingerly. still warm. the witch walked in a circle around it, carefully inspecting the saddle. vhagar, it read on the side. wasn’t that the one eyed prince’s dragon? oh well. that saddle’s still good leather. ooh, a pretty piece of beadwork in the targaryen colors. those would fetch a pretty penny. ooh, is that a boot? if the other one is still there, that could buy a sapling for an apple tree or two. or a new dress,or a few skeins of fabric.

she reached up, undoing the buckles with careful hands before she froze, inhaling deeply in shock at what was still strapped into the saddle. the other boot was definitely still there. as well as the legs, torso, arms, and head attached to them. the head of aemond targaryen, the kinslayer, the one-eyed, and public enemy number one. as well as a pretty nasty sword wound through the shoulder.

shit.

———

she was just finishing labeling her new bottles of dragon’s blood when he awoke.

his white hair was damp with sweat from the humidity from the coming storm, his sapphire eye gleaming in the dim light from the fire. “good morning, your highness,” she said softly. “how did you sleep?”

“where am i?” he asked groggily. he sat up suddenly, straight-backed and glaring, then cried out at the pain in his shoulder and back.

the witch stood up quickly and rushed to check on his shoulder, clicking her tongue in dismay. “you’ll rip your stitches, highness,” she said softly. true enough, the tiniest bit of blood was beginning to seep through the soft cloth bandage. she began to unwrap it gently, trying not to hurt him.

he grit his teeth and she could see his violet eye moving, taking in her little cottage. she had him lying on the meager guest bed, at the wall nearest the fire in her little kitchen. he could see the door to what he assumed was her bedroom in the corner, with strange signs inscribed over the doorways. there were herbs hanging in bundles from the ceiling, strange bottles in shelves on the walls, stacks upon stacks upon stacks of books. it looked… comfortable at least. if shabby and cluttered could be considered comfortable.

“are you a witch?” he asked suddenly.

the woman paused for a moment before nodding.

his face contorted in what she could only assume was fear confusion. he threw his shoulder from her hand and cried out at the pain, the blood flowing quickly now. he collapsed back against the bed, face contorted in pain, but still fumbled for the small knife she had been using to cut the bandages. he held it clumsily in his left hand, pointing it at her in shaking fingers. “get away, heathen,” he spat. “i’ve had enough of your kind, i won’t suffer you anymore.”

the witch scoffed. “ah, yes, my lord. please, i humbly beg your pardon for rescuing you from being suffocated under your gargantuan dead dragon, dragging you a mile and a half to my home, and using my precious time and resources to save the life of a man who not a year ago burned huge swathes of the place i have lived for five years. it was very inconsiderate of me.”

“i don’t need you to tell me what’s right and wrong, witch,” he sneered. “i heard enough of the lies your kind tell with…” his face contorted in what she couldn’t be sure was pain or rage. as angry as he made her, the witch pitied him. she hated seeing people in pain. even him.

so she sat down on the floor beside his bed. he looked down at her in confusion, but seemed to be slightly less threatened by her. he lowered the knife, but still gripped it tight. “what are you doing?” he asked, his voice guarded.

“sitting down,” the witch responded. “wild animals are less threatened by you when you make yourself less threatening. i thought the same might work for you. your judgment seems to be clouded, probably by pain and mental disturbance. mental trauma and physical trauma, as it were. when humans are traumatized and on guard, their more animalistic instincts sometimes cloud their logical judgment.”

he blinked. “you are a very strange woman.”

she nodded matter-of-factly. “i know. i’m not a bad one, though. and i would like to rebandage your arm, please.”

he looked at her oddly for a long moment, his face unreadable. the silence was only broken by the first patterings of rain against the thatched roof of her cottage. he finally nodded.

she started to get up quickly, then remembered how on edge he was and started to move slower, making sure he could see where her hands were or what she was reaching for in the cabinets. he was quiet, watching her intently with his piercing violet eye. “what is your name?” he asked after a moment. his voice was surprisingly quiet.

the witch hesitated for a moment before responding. “y/n.”

———

“you do know the old saying about sleep being the best nurse?” the witch said in a groggy voice, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand.

aemond was sitting straight up, staring at the wall in the dark. “i can’t.”

“it’s been three weeks since you came here, highness, and you have barely slept at all.” the witch sighed and lit a candle, setting it on the small table and sitting down on the rickety chair. she nodded in his direction. “would you like to talk?”

he blinked at her. “no.”

she nodded again pensively. “tea, then?”

he frowned at her. “you are quite the strangest person in the world.”

“that isn’t an answer.”

he groaned and lay back down on the bed. “yes, fine. tea.”

the witch hummed softly in response, rising and lighting a fire in the dying hearth. aemond watched her as she moved through the house, she was pretty, he thought. for a witch.

“may i ask you something?” her voice cut through the slight fog of his thoughts.

he blinked. “fine. ask away.”

“what is your favorite color?”

“…what?”

she turned back around, pulling two mugs from the shelf and setting them on the table. she measured tea leaves from a jar as she spoke. “favorite color. a color that you prefer over every other color?”

he scowled. “i know what a favorite color is. children have favorite colors.”

“not just children. mine, for example, is orange.”

aemond smiled, somewhat to himself. “orange?”

“mm. like autumn leaves.”

he inhaled the steaming, fragrant scent of the tea as she poured the water over it. she pushed a cup over to him and he gladly took it, getting up and sitting across from her at the table. “why do you ask?” he said, taking his first sip and looking across the table at her with intense eyes.

“i’m making clothes for you, since your old ones are filthy and torn and burned. i thought they should be personal to you. at least a little.”

“hm.” he took another drink, feeling the heat warm him from the inside out. “i expected you to ask about alys. or my family.”

“i will never ask. you will tell me when you are ready. even if you are never ready, i don’t mind.”

he looked at her for a long moment, watching the firelight dance across her features. she wasn’t a cold, glamorous beauty like alys, certainly, but she had a feeling about her that made him feel at ease. pretty and warm. like firelight.

“blue,” he answered after a long moment. “my favorite color is blue.”

———

you’ll be glad of the cloak later, y/n had said.

she had been right, of course, but aemond was loath to admit it.

it had been six months now since y/n had found him, and as unsettling as the fact was for him to admit, he enjoyed her company greatly. she was amusing, and kind, and respectful. she sang as she worked some days, while he did the little he could to help around the house, and he swore sometimes the birds stopped to listen. he was fascinated by her every move, her sewing that she showed him in the evenings, the baking of bread in the mornings, the way her thighs and hips moved and flexed when she walked or knelt before the trees she worshiped, the peeks of her body he could see when she bent over and he could see down her dress. she wore mostly loose, light clothing, so she could move around, but sometimes, in the rains, or on hot, damp days, her clothes would stick to the shape of her, and he could almost imagine what she-.

he wrapped the deep blue fabric tighter around him and tried to focus on his prayers. “father, give me the strength to-.”

“what on earth are you doing?” his singular eye snapped open. the object of his musings was standing there with a basket of mushrooms on her hip, looking at him curiously. “you do know that that it is about to rain?”

the neckline of her loose cotton dress had slipped down, and he could see the curve of her shoulder and the hollow of her collarbone. he grunted a response. “i do.”

“and yet you are out here, kneeling against a rock?”

he shuffled his knees slightly. “praying.”

she snickered. “how pious, to sit in the damp and muck, to get dirt on your clothes. tell me, prince, do your gods require you to put mud in your septs as well, that you may kneel in a way that is more pleasing to them?”

he scoffed. “no. the septs are made to be holy places.”

she hummed softly. “so then, this is not a holy place?”

“unholy things happen here all the time.” y/n smirked slightly and he swore under his breath. “wait, fuck, no, you know that’s not what i meant-.”

“no, no, you already said it. you can’t go back now.”

he groaned audibly. “you are insufferable.”

“and unholy, it would seem.” y/n shifted the basket on her hip, walking over to stand next to him, smiling mischievously down at him. “tell me, prince, what have i done that is so sinful?”

“other than practice witchcraft and idolatry?”

“those are both bad points. my gods might say you are practicing witchcraft and idolatry just the same. both of us would be right, and therefore neither of us would be.”

“you are annoyingly intelligent.” he stood up and brushed the dirt from his knees, his still-healing arm protesting at the movement. she noticed him wince and touched his arm in concern, pushing back his shirt and inspecting the scar. aemond could feel her breath on his shoulder, the soft touches of her fingertips along the ragged skin. the first drops of rain started to fall on the two of them, and a drop fell on y/n’s face, running down her nose and into the corner of her perfectly kissable- no. that was a terrible idea.

“we should get inside.” she brushed a raindrop from her hair, and before he could stop himself, he reached up and pushed the offending strands behind her ear.

she froze, looking up at him, her lips slightly parted. in her own mind, she admired the arch of his nose, the intense, deep violet of his eye. he was so, so close, close enough to-.

“yes.” he cleared his throat. “yes, inside.” he started to follow her before halting suddenly. “y/n?”

she turned to him. “yes.”

aemond took a deep breath. “alys. she put a love spell on me.she stole away years of my life, she… i only realized it the day i almost- well. the day i met you. it’s why i didn’t like them. witches.”

she nodded in understanding, then tilted her head. “and now?”

aemond blinked. “now what?”

“do you like them now?”

he looked at her, taking in the way her hair curled in the damp of the rain. “i like some of them.”

———

their clothes were steaming slightly in the heat of the fire. the rain had soaked through them on their way back home, and aemond had immediately lit a fire in the hearth. it felt good, to him: to be able to do something for her. y/n did most things, he mused. she had taken him in when she didn’t have to, risking her own life to save his. right now, she was kneeling in front of the fire, contemplating the flames.

tension was thick in the air. both of them seemed far too aware of what had nearly transpired in the rain, as the secretive glances and brushes of hands had built up over the months. both of them were aware that they needed to change out of their soaking wet clothes, but neither seemed to want to move, frozen next to each other and staring into the heat. until y/n’s hand flexed slightly, almost imperceptibly, linking her little finger with aemond’s.

something in him snapped at the touch, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her mouth and pulling away abruptly. they looked at each other for a long moment, cheeks flaming, before y/n reached up, tangling her hands in his hair and pulling his lips down to meet her own. it wasn’t a gentle kiss, rather rough and passionate, filled with things he wanted to say to her, but could not articulate. instead, his hands made their way up her sides, grasping at the soft flesh and pulling moans from her lips. she gripped his shirt tightly, tugging the damp fabric eagerly in her rush to get it off.

he pushed her away, panting slightly, and pulled his shirt off slowly, watching her reaction. y/n’s eyes traced the pattern of the scars from the wounds she had stitched together those months ago. she walked forward and brushed the raised skin with gentle fingertips before leaning down and pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone, right at the apex of the scar.

aemond tilted his head back at the touch of her lips and exhaled, eye fluttering shut. y/n made her way back up his neck, leaving soft pink marks in her wake. aemond opened his eye, taking her in again, before turning her gently with a touch to her shoulder and beginning to unlace her dress. he bit gently at the junction of her shoulder and neck as the dress fell from her body, before laving over the mark with his tongue. he stepped back, taking in her newly-naked body. he raised his eyebrow slightly. “nothing underneath?”

y/n shook her head, cheeks flaming and lips swollen. “it’s been too hot before now.”

aemond’s pupil dilated. “you mean, you’ve been walking around with nothing underneath your gown all day?”

y/n laughed sheepishly, ducking her head down to avoid his hungry gaze. “i’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

he crossed the space between them in one long stride and took her face in his hand, kissing her roughly while palming the flesh of her tits, eliciting a moan from her lips. she took his hand in hers and brought it down to the apex of her thighs, guiding his fingers to her clit and moaning softly when they made contact with the swollen flesh. he stroked the nub gently at first, testing her reactions, then circling it roughly. in return, she hesitantly brushed her fingers over the prominent tent in his trousers. at his encouraging groan, she gripped him tighter, feeling the thick length in her hand. he took her hand and guided it inside his pants, groaning deeply into her mouth when she gripped him and began to stroke him gently, then harder, her hand already lubricated with the precum dripping from his tip.

aemond pushed her gently backwards, walking her into her bedroom, not bothering to disconnect their lips. he quickly registered that he had never been in her room before y/n’s knees hit the bed and they buckled, pulling him on top of her in a tangle of limbs and lips. he vaguely felt y/n’s hands tugging his trousers down over his hips and gripping his cock again, stroking it before guiding it to her entrance. he pushed in slowly, his shoulders tensing with the effort of staying gentle for her.

y/n pressed soft kisses to aemond’s face, peppering them around the eye patch he still hadn’t removed. he frowned slightly, thinking she meant to take it off, but she shook her head. “no,” she whispered. “not ‘til you’re ready.”

he kissed her again in gratitude and began to move within her, relishing in the feeling of the tight, wet heat of her cunt. y/n smiled into his mouth, clenching around him when he hit a particular place inside her that made her tilt her head back into his hand and moan his name into his shoulder. he smiled into her hair before groaning when she began to thrust her hips back up into his, meeting his thrusts beat for beat. y/n reached down between their bodies and began to circle her clit harshly, crying out in pleasure and coming hard when he thrust particularly deep, gushing around him and spurring him into his own orgasm. he groaned her name into her shoulder, spilling deep inside her and resting his head on her chest. y/n chuckled softly, running her hands through his silver hair. he pressed a chaste kiss to her breast as he came down from his high, before looking back up at her. “thank you,” he said quietly.

y/n laughed again. “what on earth for?”

“everything. saving me. this. thank you.”

she hummed softly in response. “are you sure you’re not too bothered about owing your life to a witch?” she teased gently.

“somehow i think i’ll manage.” he rolled off of her and slid up on the bed, pulling her into his chest. “what happened with vhagar’s body?” he asked after a moment.

“nothing. it’s about three miles away from here. she was a bit too big for me to bury by myself.”

“ah.” he ran his fingers over her shoulder and hesitated. “could we go and see her? i never really got to say goodbye.”

“mm. i’ll take you tomorrow.”

[broomsick]

Heathen-izing your spring celebrations

The earth wakes up from its slumber, snowdrops poke through Skaði's coat of frost, yada yada. You guys know I'm not such a huge fan of spring. I do have, after all, a favorable bias towards winter (sue me). However, something paganism has helped me develop is the taste for each of the seasons our planet has to offer. Having worshipped Freyr for quite a long time, I've come to appreciate the beauty of spring. For one, the celebrations that come with the equinox. Spring festivals carry quite the unique, undeniable excitement, after all! Which is why I'm very happy to share some of my personal practices and ideas regarding norse-paganism oriented spring festivals.

Quick disclaimer! Unlike Jól, the celebration of spring in Iron Age Scandinavia and within the Germanic tribes is quite poorly documented. We've got access to little to no sources describing practices surrounding spring or the spring equinox. Still, I hope this handful of personal ideas and practices prove useful to you! I've summed up a few interesting historically attested (or attested-ish) practices as well, but I suggest looking into them by yourself if you're interested in more detailed information.

The basics

I'm going to assume that many of you are already familiar with what neo-pagan sources generally consider the "symbols" of the spring equinox. Why the rabbit? Because spring marks the beginning of the mating season among hares and lagomorphs. Why the eggs? Because they're a symbol of birth and renewal. Still, neither one of these symbols has any strong ties to historical practice, least of all in Germanic traditions. In the case of Scandinavian practice specifically, the painting of eggs is more often than not believed to have originated within Christian circles before moving north. That doesn't mean, however, that the symbols of hares/rabbits and eggs can't be used in pagan practice! I use them to decorate for the spring equinox no matter their origin, simply because I really do think they fit with the mood, for the reasons previously mentioned. I also love using local symbols of spring, such as snowdrops, to decorate. If you're looking to weave more norse pagan tradition into your celebration, phallic idols/representations are the way to go. They are a major symbol of Freyr, who is closely tied to spring. By worshipping this symbol, you are asking for the prosperity of the land! You can start by "cleansing" the symbol, so to speak, using incense smoke or water depending on what material it is made out of. I tend to use melted snow to cleanse it, to further the symbolism of spring. If you're on a budget or simply aren't interested in buying such an idol, anything can still be turned into a phallic symbol, honestly. A simple tree branch you've picked up outside could do the trick nicely, after you've trimmed away whatever sticks out of it! This is just an example, but I'll trust your creativity to find anything that you feel works as a phallic symbol.

Deity work/worship

At this time of year, it's also pretty commonplace to make offerings to the Vanir, the landvættir and your local Dísir! You can thank them for the summer that has passed, and the one that’s to come. You can ask for a plentiful year, and for an abundance of resources. If you’re not sure how to go about working with landvættir, I suggest taking a quick look at this previous post I made on the topic of land spirit work. Landdísir are especially venerated by neo-pagans at this time of year, because they are considered the guardians of one’s land. By offering something to them, and/or the landvættir, you show your respect for the land itself. I’ve already spoken a bit about worship of Freyr for the coming spring, but let me dig a little deeper on that topic. I almost feel compelled to do so because his association with spring was so widespread that he was at the center of an important springtime festival called Disting. This festival was especially important in Uppsala, where large numbers of people would gather to make sacrifices for victory, and where lovers would allegedly exchange gifts. However, Disting and Dísablót are very often mixed up, as the difference between the two vary depending on the region. But back to our main topic: springtime Freyr worship today. Effigies of boars make for great decoration to invoke the benevolence of the King of Kings. After all, the boar held a major role in his worship: it's generally viewed as his fylgja, and boars were sacrificed to him on Yuletide, according to the Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks. This is the reason I treat my loved ones and myself to boar meat around the equinox, or when it's truly starting to feel like spring. I cook a meal out of boar (trying to change up the recipe every time!) and share it around to family members or neighbors. In fact, the act of sharing has become quite an important part of my worship of Freyr. It allows me to embody his generosity and benevolence! You could see this as a form of devotional. Now if you’re looking for more ideas on Freyr worship, this other post I wrote could prove useful!

The next deity I'll be touching on is the Anglo-Saxon goddess Eostre (otherwise called Ostara), who understandably comes up often when researching the Vernal equinox. We unfortunately know very little about her, including whether she was ever worshipped in history. One thing's for sure, though: she is certainly worshipped by many pagans today, which is why I would suggest looking, not only into historical sources, but also into SPG and UPG if you're interested in devoting a ritual/offering to her. She is heavily associated with dawn, which is why her devotees will sometimes wake up to see the sun rise on the day of the equinox. Dew and flowers are common offerings to her! While I’m at it, let’s talk about flowers some more. They are your best friends when it comes to decoration! Natural ones obviously feel a little more lively, but it’s also perfectly fine to use artificial ones, or even ones made out of paper! They make excellent material for crafts, and having flowers inside the house can be likened to inviting spring itself within your home.

At this time of year, many heathens also engage in Sigrblót ("victory sacrifice"), a blót for victory, or success. This conveniently aligns with Freyr worship, which is often oriented towards finances, personal success or else, due to his association with fertility. The Sigrblót was attested in the Ynglingasaga, though it could be better described as a celebration of the coming summer rather than of spring itself. Now, this celebration is sometimes called Somarsdag ("summer's day"), and it's often said to happen on the fourth full moon after Jól, or on the 16th of April. However, if you aren't tied to any particular group and tend to perform blót alone, I'd say Sigrblót could very well be celebrated on any designated day which feels right to you. Pretty much all the information we have on that sacrifice is speculation, but it would make plenty of sense to perform it around the equinox, in my opinion. The Sigrblót is the perfect occasion to set some goals for yourself! After all, you’re asking for victory! What’s a project you wish to see succeed this year? Since Óðinn is very tightly associated with victory, you can choose to involve him in this ritual, by devoting an offering or a song to him, for example.

Another practice that’s great for a springtime celebration is lighting a fire! It’s a great way to symbolize the return of the sun and warmth. If you are interested in sun worship or if you already actively engage in it, this is an opportunity to do something for Sól! This activity is something that makes for a beautiful devotional. If your area is already pretty warm and if you’ve got the right fixtures, why not make a bonfire outside! And if your area, like mine, still looks like it’s halfway through January, a fire in the hearth will do the job perfectly. Lighting candles does the trick as well, and what's useful about them is that you can carry them around your home, so as to “spread the sun’s light” in your living area, and set them on windowsills to welcome the sun! I actually usually couple the lighting of the hearth with the Sigrblót. Once the blót is performed, I can throw written prayers or wishes in the fire. Though it doesn’t stem from any historical ritual, I’ve developed the habit of carving the simple shape of the Isa rune on a piece of wood, which I throw in the fire to symbolize the end of winter, the melting of the ice! A means of saying goodbye to winter that’s passed, so to speak. If you’re working with candles, this could be done by writing the rune on a piece of paper.

[edwordsmyth]

"The big question is, even if 'Israel' manages to win its six-front war, even if 'America' manages to win its world war, then what? The whole climate is still collapsing, and even they live in the climate. 'Israel's scorched earth policy in Gaza is just a sign of the coming times for everyone, when the whole Earth will scorch. The meta-crisis is really an entropy crisis which we experience as pollution. Warfare is just the worst sort of pollution, the sort that kills you instantly. In just 120 days, 'Israel' and America have produced nearly 300,000 kilotons of carbon unproducing 30,000 people. The full climate impact is likely 7-8x higher, equivalent to a dozen countries just chilling. Millions of tons of metal and other resources have been shipped from all over the world in order to be dumped on children in Palestine. The Gaza Genocide is an absolute orgy of emissions and waste in a climate that simply can't take anymore. This grotesque genocide is just the culmination of 400 years of colonialism. It's no coincidence that the greater White Empire (America, Britain, etc.) is by far the worst polluter in history. It's no coincidence that the US military is the single worst polluter now. It's causal. Colonialism was the cancer that gave corporations private rights to something that isn't even public. The sun, the land, the animals, the plants; they don't belong to us. They belong to the gods. They are the gods. The gods of sun, the gods of trees, and the new, apocalyptic, gods who clearly said that the end was coming. You don't even have to believe the signs anymore. We're at the destination. Natural life (which includes us) is being killed by artificial life (which we are merely included in). We're just the bacteria inside the guts of higher beings we call corporations or even countries. It is this species of artificial life which is killing the natural world, and we're just along for the ride. I call these creatures godlike because just look at the power they have over us. They can kill, cage, and harness us like so much chattel, but there's one thing they can't control. That's the weather. Those are the elder, greater, gods, and they're not too happy about the upstart idols. Who are these old gods? The gods of sun, the gods of weather, the gods of climate above all. Heathens call this 'climate change', like it comes out of nowhere. What we are experiencing is the wrath of the gods. The gods are striking back through the weather and they'll win, because they're actual gods, not craven idols made out of steel and silicon. Even the more recent Abrahamic God is clearly apocalyptic. Prophets and messengers have been telling us to get our shit together for the end times. Whatever 'civilized' path we were on 3,000 years ago was already clearly wrong, and we were clearly warned that it wouldn't end well. Well, here we are. You can't say you weren't warned. Whether it's from Resistance or their own arrogance, within our lifetimes both 'Israel' and 'America' will fall. Even if they win all these wars against other people, how do you win against the climate? How do you win against math? How do you win against the gods? What do you even win in this context? It's like hitting the snooze button on apocalypse with a 3,000 pound bomb. You're just making the destruction come faster. White Empire is not long for the world, because the world is not long for the world. Even if it survives the rebellions of men, it cannot escape the judgement of the gods. If the whole climate is collapses, everything else necessarily collapses too. Like castles in the sand. In a few decades (at best), Empire's scorched earth policy in Gaza becomes redundant. Any Empire that exists will run out of gas and catch on fire at the same time. Empire loses by default. A victory for no one."