#recreationist

[chewchuck]

caved and asked my dad who does heavy weapons fighting about the specifics of what it would look like to take of laios’ armor bc THATS the thing that’s been bothering me accuracy wise lol

[phantomrose96]

Chrissy i know you're probably used to it by now but saw a screenshot of one of your posts on instagram and I got gta wasted lol. Like, a cement block dropped on my head, I got like .01% of your pain how do you do it 😅 anyway, ya great, hope the new place is getting better!!

When that happens to me it's the emotion when you walk past a mirror you thought was a window and you're like "woah, me :0"

Anyway the more parts of the internet I'm archived on the more likely they'll be able to artificially reconstruct me in the far future from my internet footprint so that's pretty good for me :)

[vivalasthedas]

'put his loaves into a cold oven' is the funniest euphemism for fucked a corpse i've heard in a while.

[noaasanctuaries]

Yeah buoy!

Mooring buoys are a vital resource that help recreationists, anglers, and explorers, get into their sanctuary, while also promoting safe and respectful exploration of marine protected areas.

Learn more about how buoys support recreation in national marine sanctuaries by reading our latest web story:

[foultastemusic]

Power of noises and vaginas - a thought

For two decades now, post-hardcore has been considered a sub-genre descended from hardcore, which in turn was considered a sub-genre descended from punk, and which in turn... well, it's not important to put musical genres and sub-genres into boxes purposely organized to fit people and their ways of dressing and other useless aesthetics promoted by media/digital cultures. But for two decades now, post-hardcore has been asserting itself as a well-defined genre, with well-defined textural characteristics, as well as certain types of chords and experimentalist riffs in the nostalgic-depressive world, heartfelt screams with a poetically sad story to tell in the most imperfect and dirty way possible, where D.I.Y. is valued in the various arts that embrace recorded and live music.

In 2003, music researcher Jessica Hopper wrote the review "Emo: Where the Girls Aren't" for a column in Punk Planet 56. It was already in the cradle of the emo thing at the beginning of the century that we noticed an absence of girls at concerts - at first there was no mention of them playing or making music, but even their absence from the public as listeners / active participants in this subculture and community. Girls began to enter this world in a very controversial and unrevolutionary way, but always with all the freedom.

Obviously, through the promotion that took place on the internet on the various platforms, the genre reached more stages, more people, more musical cultures and gained a large structure. Girls (like everyone else) start going to these places, often through an interest they already had in other genres such as indie, punk, metal, etc., and as soon as they buy a ticket to go to a concert, we have a group of 50 young men talking about love, depression, nature and other "weaknesses" seen through the eyes of toxic contemporary masculinity. And girls are welcome here. They will always be welcome until they start making music out of fear, because in punk they've already had the chance to revolutionize themselves and post-hardcore/screamo gives voice and space to boys who also suffer from prejudice.

Hopper talks about this band that dedicates a song (Strike Anywhere - Refusal, 2001) to the girls about their problems and lives, and claims that we need more of that: protection and respect. But this hasn't happened and girls still don't feel encouraged and empowered: they are an inspiration for the experiences and texts of this subculture, they are desired as artists and recreationists, and even though they aren't sexualized or repudiated in all cases, they feel obliged to get on the boys' knees to make it too, perhaps even better. A fight against meritocracy, male dependency in order to learn or be promoted and supported, where we are ALL programmed to think that we have a sex organ between our legs and that public reception is influenced by this: either in a positive or a negative way.

«And so I watch these girls at emo shows more than I ever do the band. I watch them sing along, see what parts they freak out over. I wonder if this does it for them, if seeing these bands, these dudes on stage resonates and inspires them to want to pick up a guitar or drum sticks. Or if they just see this as something dudes do, because there are no girls, there is no them up there. I wonder if they are being thwarted by the FACT that there is no presentation of girls as participants, but rather, only as consumers – or if we reference the songs directly – the consumed. I wonder if this is where music will begin and end for them. If they can be radicalized in spite of this. If being denied keys to the clubhouse or airtime will spur them into action».

- Jessica Hopper (2003)

Girls are not yet part of this music, or at least not in a direct or comfortable way. Perhaps through music promotion, the organization of concerts, photographs and poster designs, perhaps through their words adopted by these boys or the desires and utopias of an all-embracing subcultural milieu that, although they may all agree and share the same idea, refuses to accept that they are not welcome altogether, completely. Perhaps they are, but ever since men began to dominate this music or all music, they have needed reasons to pick up a guitar without the issue of sexual gender being brought into the listening experience or even to politics. Would it be better to ignore the gender issue at all costs (until this argument is normalized) or to promote the importance of giving girls a voice to help empower them, as has been happening in punk and hardcore (until this issue becomes part of the contemporary elements of screamo)? Maybe no one has the answers, but the reality is that girls continue to enjoy and consume this music without drumsticks in their hands.

[thefalloutwiki]

Fallout Tactics: Canadian Invasion Recreationist

Pictured: Canadian Invasion Recreationists, a Special Encounter in Fallout Tactics.

The encounter features a woman named Clarisse instructing her group to step over the Canadian side from the American side, which completes the invasion reenactment.

You can read about the Special Encounter here:

https://fallout.wiki/wiki/Canadian_Invasion_Recreationists

[not-so-secret-nerd]

I rarely post my cosplays here, but this build was equal parts fun and infuriating, yet the final result is (chef kiss).

Shogun Bowser for your enjoyment.

Took me 5 months to 3D print the armor in a mixture of filament and resin printing. The cloth part of this build came from a historical Japanese recreationist.

[tyriq-edits]

In the Plain Nysa -

First Draft of the Prologue

This is an early draft of the prologue for my planned Vashwood Fanfiction "In the Plain of Nysa”.

Given this is an early draft, keep in mind that this entire chapter and even its inclusion in the final product are still subject to change.

I also haven’t written fanfics in almost two years so I am a bit rusty and thus any and all constructive criticism is very much welcome. However PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS BEFOREHAND

Content Warnings: Kidnapping, Gore, Blood, War, descriptions of amputations, mentions of murder, attempted murder, descriptions of physical torture, whipping

This level of violence presented in the prologue draft will not appear in the rest of the fan fiction however.

For further informations about this AU and its lore just look at the "in the plain of nysa” tag on my tumblr page

Prologue Draft under the cut

“Hold him down, Pylon”

“What do you think it is I’m trying to do, Lysander?”

Pylon shot his fellow soldier an annoyed look before redirecting his gaze down to the blonde youth struggling against all three trojan soldiers as they tried to keep him down on the floor.

Youth might be the wrong term to describe the wriggling gent beneath him, after all this “youth” was not just a few years but centuries older then Pylon and his comrades combined. For this boy, trashing his body around helplessly like a freshly caught fish on land, to escape his captors’ grips, was indeed a god.

Vash the recreationist.

Vash the bringer of order.

Vash the dancer.

Vash the god of peace.

It felt almost unreal to Pylon that this lad, who was flailing his legs around and fighting against the band of Trojans keeping him pinned to the ground, weiling like an abandoned kitten crying out for its mother to come and save it, was indeed an olympian. Weren’t the gods supposed to be almighty? So how come that they, a group of mere mortals, had been able to capture the messy-haired god of peace and his sister, the goddess of victory with such ease? How come they had been able to kill the goddess of victory with such ease? How come they were gonna kill the god of peace with the same amount of ease right now?

“Iphition, go get a rag or anything to stuff his mouth, he’s gonna wake up the entire neighbourhood at this rate” Lysander hissed at the youngest in their group.

“I can’t keep the brat down and also get up to grab some rags at the same time, Lysander!”

“I’ll take over for you” Pylon declared, now instead of clasping both his hands around the deity’s right arm, reaching out to grasp both of Vash’s wrists and keep them pinned above the blonde god’s head.

“Thanks Pyl” Iphition, releasing the god’s left arm from his clutches, rising from the floor, patting some of the dirt off of his garments before turning around to find anything of use to keep the divine being quiet.

Pylon did not dare to let his eyes linger on his comrades' filthy clothes longer than necessary. Those filthy…. Defiled….Bloodstained garments. Yet, looking at Lysander’s or his own vestments did not offer a more delightful view either. For they were equally filthy, equally defiled and equally blood stained. Stained with the blood of the Tesla. The blood of the goddess of victory. Reminding them of what he and his brothers in arms had done. And what they were about to do to the divine gent looking up at them with pleading, teary blue eyes.

Then again, Pylon thought, this entire room, a dark and dingy basement underneath one of Troy’s countless taverns, wasn’t hailing any differently than their attire. The floor they were kneeling on and keeping the sobbing god pressed against, was still painted in the now dried up, crimson blood of victory. In the dim flickering light of the handful of oil lamps they kept lit, Pylon spotted some loose feathers from her wings strewn around the room. The stale blood splattered onto them, having lost its warm scarlet hue and rust-coloured crust having taken its place.

It is not like killing the dual winged goddess of victory had been their plan from the start, Pylon kept trying to tell himself. It was an act of desperation. They had planned to merely kidnap the goddess of victory and her younger brother and keep them within the walls of Troy to assure Troy’s victory and a quick end to this war.

Their beloved city had been sieged by the Acheans for up to 9 years at this point. 9 years since their Prince Paris had kidnapped fair Helen of Sparta. 9 years since Menelaus had taken up arms to get his wife back. 9 years of being trapped within their own cities.

They were simply tired. Tired of waking up every morning, wondering which ones of their friends they would be forced to bury that day, or if it would be them ending up on the funerary pyre. Tired of living in fear for their family’s safety should the Acheans succeed to defeat the Trojan army and storm their city.

They had first discovered the god of peace, the youngest of holy siblings. Pylon could still clearly see in front of his inner eyes how they had spotted the son of the stars scurrying across the battlefield, hasting to the side of any wounded soldier he could find, putting his hands on them and healing their injuries. Yet what stuck out to the Trojan soldier the mist was how the deity seemingly did not discriminate between the two fronts. Whether you were a Trojan or Achean, if Vash the recreationist saw a wounded warrior he’d run to his side and help him get back on his feet.

So, they took him. When they thought no one on the battlefield was paying attention they simply grabbed the Olympian and dragged him towards their homecity.

And that was when Pylon and his two brothers in arms caught the sight of the goddess of victory flying overhead, leading the Achaean army. Pylon gazed at the ethereal deity, his mind going blank from the sheer awe, when suddenly his and Tesla’s eyes met. Those icy blues seemed to stare right into Pylon’s mortal soul and he physically felt a freezing cold shudder through his entire spine.

That was when the Trojan had realised that Vash, still being dragged towards the gates of Troy, had called out towards his sister the second he saw her. That’s when Pylon understood. That was not the gaze of a benevolent goddess of victory. This was the hateful stare of an older sister seeing her kin in danger. The trio had acted before they could truly process their thought process. Pylon remembers all too vividly as Lysanderhad had taken out his bow and arrow and pierced one of the goddesses’ wings with one clear shot, making her plummet down to the earth.

It was not meant to happen that way. But they had captured two Olympians. They only wanted to keep Victory and Peace in their city in hopes their presence alone would lead to Troy’s glorious triumph over the Acheans. By keeping victory locked and chained up in this basement and by making peace heal only Trojan soldiers from now on. That was the plan. They were going to let them go back to their fellow Olympians the second the Acheans had been defeated.

But it did not happen that way. Mighty and victorious Tesla kept trying to escape so they had to hack off her pure white pair of wings. But yet she kept on defying them. And the Acheans kept winning battle after battle. So they had to make her see that she had to work for them. Maybe then they would finally receive the blessings of victory. So they cut off her feet and legs next. Yet the Acheans kept winning.

So the trio began to grow desperate in the face of the Achaean army getting closer and closer to storming their cherished hometown. They even tried whipping the goddess’s darling baby brother Vash in front of her with such velocity that chunks of his skin and flesh flew off with each crack of the nine tailed whip. However this ended up being counter productive rather fast as well. For even though seeing her little brother in such pain had managed to sway the fair haired goddess of triumph to let the Trojans win some battles against the Acheans at long last, the injuries inflicted onto the god of peace proved to be so severe that he had become physically too weak to even crawl towards the hurt Trojan soldiers, let alone heal their wounds.

Having seemingly been backed against a wall with their “safe ticket to victory” refusing to work for them and their “divine healer” out of commission, they saw themselves forced to act fast.

So , in a last act of despair they did the unthinkable. They took an axe and hacked the goddess of victory into tiny little pieces of bone and flesh, handing them out to the soldiers so each and everyone of them would be fighting with a bit of victory at their side. A finger for Aeneas, a toe for Polybus, an earlobe for Glaucus…

It is for the safety of our friends and family. For our home… is what Pylon tried to tell himself as he watched Lysander’s axe come crashing down onto the poor goddess. The sounds of her flesh being ripped open, the bones cracking into halves and quarters and the goddesses piercing screams slowly dying down…. no matter how much Pylon tried to delude himself with thoughts of “we are doing this for our loved ones” he could never forget them. Hearing them every time he closed his eyes had been plaguing him every night since they had murdered Tesla. A part of him almost hoped the Acheans would just kill him at this point so he could finally be freed from this guilt.

Yet, at the same time looking back at their horrific act, what had shocked Pylon more than the fact that a deity could be wounded and killed in the first place, was how human their blood seemed. He recalled the stories his mother had told him as a small child. How gods could not bleed. How through the deathless beings’ veins flowed instead the ethereal fluid of ichor. He had always imagined for it to shine golden like the sun itself. But instead it was red. Like his.

Yet they still had one last problem: Their joker, Vash, who was supposed to provide infinite healing to the Trojan troops was still far too weak to actively heal any of their soldiers. So Lysander suggested to do it all over again.

“Please”

The pathetic little whimper ripped Pylon out of his thoughts and he once again looked down on the tear filled eyes of the youngest star born deity.

“Please. You don’t have to do this. Please”

His grip tightened, leading to another sob escaping the blonde’s throat. He could not exactly say why the Olympian’s please made him so angry. Was it truly anger he was feeling? Or was it perhaps guilt? But for what exactly? Guilt over murder? But he had killed countless men over the past 9 years on the battlefield. How is this any different from the countless innocent men he had slain before the gates of Troy?

“You think we’d do this if we didn’t have to?” Lysander growled before Pylon could even get a chance to answer Vash himself. The oldest among the three soldiers glared at Vash, while holding down the deity’s legs so he’d finally stop kicking the air around them.

Staring at his companion’s face, Pylon couldn’t help but notice the deep dark bags underneath his eyes, the glassy haze laying over his pupils like thick fog, the new strands of grey hair adorning both his beard and mane. The Trojan had known both Lysander and Iphition since his earliest childhood, literally having grown up with them like brothers. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling as if both his comrades had aged far more rapidly in the past few days since the goddess’s death than over the entire past decade since this forsaken war’s beginning. The way both their faces have grown haggard, with their deeply sunken in eyes, a permanent frown plastered over profile, acting as witnesses to sleepless nights his friends must have suffered through lately. Just like him. Pylon knew he could never say it out loud but it was almost strangely comforting to know that he was not the only one battling with this whirlwind of emotions their cruel deed had left behind. Be that as it may, Pylon also could not rid himself of the underlying realisation that he barely recognises his two best friends anymore. Were these men, pushing aside their own discomfort as they readied themselves for yet another godly slaughter, the same two boys he had shared so many happy moments with over the course of his life? As much as Pylon hoped that they could all just return to the how things used to be after the war, joking with his friends as they shared wine and freshly picked fruit, he knew it was not meant to be. Daring another glimpse at his companion’s face he was once again met with the harrowing reality that the pain, grime and the haunting spectre of their shared sin most likely had changed the three of them for all eternity on every level of their existence with no hope of going back to their once careless and hope-filled younger selves. From their physical appearance all the way down to the very core of their soul.

“Iphition what’s taking you so long?! We are running out of time. Troy is running out of time.” Lysander yapped at the youngest of the trio. Observing his youngest friend’s gloomy expression and paleness, Pylon knew that Iphition was struggling with the shame of their crime on the inside just like him. Despite his comrade’s lifelong reluctance to verbally express his thoughts and feelings, the soldier had known the olive-skinned man long enough to pick up on quirks and hints when Iphition was being plagued by or uncomfortable with something. Such as for example right now him having taken his sweet time trying to find some cloth. He had been stalling time. Trying to prolong the time to perhaps mentally prepare himself before the… execution.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Iphition mumbled, approaching the two other warriors, holding a simple linen cloth in his hand “it’s not much but it’s the best i could find.”

“Well then hurry up, stuff the brat’s mouth and go get my axe.”

“Got it” Iphition responded, more to appease Lysander than because he is somehow eager to watch yet another Olympian get dismembered, kneeling down once more beside the blonde god.

“Please. Please, I am begging you. Don’t do this!” The Olympian wailed, his eyes fixed on Pylon with the same intense stare as Tesla when she had first seen him on the battlefield almost a month ago at this point. Yet his eyes were not filled with righteous rage. They shone with… hope? Pity? Or was it perhaps sadness? Whatever it was, just looking directly at this pair of deep blues made Pylon’s heart wrench and he instantly averted his gaze, looking instead at some imaginary point on the opposite wall.

He heard the muffled sounds of Iphition forcing the balled up piece of cloth past Vash’s lips and vaguely noticing as his comrade went to grab Lysanders trusted axe before once again grabbing the blond god’s left arm and keeping it pinned to the ground.

Pylon felt his heart rate picking up when he could see Lysander’s shadow on the wall. Axe in hand, risen up high over his head. Pylon couldn’t tell if it was the flickering of the candles’ flames or not but he could see his friend’s grip on the axe seeming a bit… shaky? It was almost as if Lysander were hesitating.

However the soldier had no chance to ponder that thought any longer as the stifled screams and cries for mercy and the panicked trashing of the god beneath him was the only thing the soldier registered before he could feel the blast of cold air hitting his face as Lysander’s axe came crashing down onto the god’s left arm.

Another muffled cry of pain rang through his ears before it slowly ebbed into pitiful sobs of pain.

“That was the first arm.” Lysander’s booming voice broke the silence “Now onto the right on-“

Suddenly the murky basement’s door got thrown open, flying off of its hinges, the windblast of the the sheer force blowing out all the candles and oil lamps strewn around the cellar.

“Who in the Chronos’ name do you think you a-“ Lysander attempted to yell at the intruder but his voice failed him the very second he saw it. Even while hidden behind a boar tusk helmet he could see them clearly. Those same golden locks and those captivating blue eyes.

“L-Lord Nai!”

[mountrainiernps]

Earth and sky, woods and fields, lakes and rivers, the mountain and the sea, are excellent schoolmasters, and teach some of us more than what we could learn from books.” – John Lubbock

When it comes to learning from nature, winter can be a very clear and crisp teacher. If you see one avalanche, you know immediately that the natural processes at work in this season are strong and dangerous.

Avalanches can occur on many slopes in the national park. The wonderful folks at the Northwest Avalanche Center, NWAC, (their forecasts cover our mountain hint hint) have great educational opportunities for learning about avalanches. The science is just as incredible as avalanches are dangerous.

Before you venture away from the parking lots, it is a good thing to find out about avalanches and what you can do to stay safe.

What do you do to learn about winter recreation before you visit the national park?

Have you taken an avalanche class either in person or online?

Are you now a snow geek, sending observations to NWAC to help out your fellow winter recreationists?

Park information on winter safety can be found here https://www.nps.gov/mora/planyourvisit/winter-safety.htm  Northwest Avalanche Center is at Home - Northwest Avalanche Center (nwac.us)

NPS/S. Lofgren Photo. View looking up a snow blanketed Panorama Point after an avalanche has come down. Crown of avalanche visible at top of ridge and snow debris in chunks at the bottom of the ridge. January 2019. NPS/C. Roundtree Photos. Side by side images of Comet Falls. Left image from July 31, 2011 shows Comet Falls water falling over cliff into a narrow canyon with evergreen trees on each side. Right image from July 16, 2012 show Comet Falls water falling over cliff into canyon partly filled with snow from a winter avalanche with some broken trees showing.

[fantasyfantasygames]

Medieval Strategy Roleplaying

Medieval Strategy Roleplaying, Jeeves Stackson Games, 1987

In the 80s there was a big push toward more and more "realistic" RPGs, with rules that modeled real-world physics. Occasionally they'd even push into more realistic other things, but honestly a lot of early the game designers were engineers or historical recreationists and there wasn't a lot of consideration for logistics, social structures, or icky girl stuff like emotions.

Medieval Strategy Roleplaying (MSR) is the Phoenix Command of fantasy games. It's like someone took the chargen from Hero and some extra random rolls from Traveller, brought in the calculator-required core mechanics from Enforcers and the excess side-rolls of Rolemaster, adapted some optional rules from GURPS and Space Opera, and stacked in an early version of Burning Wheel's BITS system, all with the opaque writing of AD&D 1e's psionics.

Characters are defined by the six standard attributes, plus Willpower and Perception. You get non-weapon proficiencies and "perks" based on those and some random background rolls. You will end up with a unique, highly detailed character that you can play for all nine character levels that are provided in great detail for the 16 classes (all non-magical). However, you will never get to do anything with them, because it would take you 8-12 hours just for chargen. And honestly, that's ok, because then you'd have to deal with the combat rules.

Combat is, of course, a multi-step process. Initiative is recalculated every round based on weapon speed, current mental state, injury level (yay death spirals!), and your character's strength/mass ratio. Rolls are mostly 1d20 roll-under, with modifiers possible for both the roll and the target number. There are separate critical hit tables for puncture, slash, bludgeon, unarmed, and polearm, all broken down by hit location. Of course you roll hit location, what kind of game do you think this is? You've got the possibility of dodging, parrying, or blocking (shield), potentially more than one though you take a penalty for multiple defensive actions that's separate from but compounds with a penalty for multi-attacks.

If you'd like to create a custom weapon, you can do that! All you need is the density of the materials, formulas for moment of inertia and the parallel axis theorem, and hey wait where are you going? I didn't even get into the 15 pages of grappling rules!

There are virtually no non-combat rules. Those that exist are mostly around military matters - logistics, scouting, and sapping. Get ready to calculate the cube root of the amount of explosives you brought in, or the square root in certain cases depending on the geometry of your surroundings. Your character has emotional attributes like who they care about protecting and who they'd defend rated on a 1-7 scale, and they affect nothing but combat.

What's the setting? Medieval Europe. Ready go. No other details are given. This is slightly more forgivable these days, when Wikipedia exists, than it was in 1987 when you'd have to borrow history books from the library.

As you might guess, there is no Jeeves Stackson. MSR's author remains anonymous. The game has been out of publication since just after its first print run. You can find a few unsold copies sitting in ancient game stores and some practically unused copies in the "used books" part of Goodwill.

[plethoraworldatlas]

More than 30 wildlife conservation groups today urged the U.S. Forest Service to prohibit Idaho from paying private contractors to shoot wolves from aircraft in national forests in central and southeastern Idaho. The Idaho Wolf Depredation Control Board recently approved the controversial predator control measure.

Specifically, today’s letter asked the Forest Service to grant a 2023 petition from the Center for Biological Diversity. The petition explained that gunning down wolves from helicopters risks harm to other wildlife like grizzly bears and Canada lynx, as well as public safety and wilderness values.

If the Forest Service fails to promptly grant the petition, the groups may consider legal action in federal court.

“Recreationists should not have to worry about their safety while enjoying our public lands,” said Christine Gertschen, co-director of the Conservation Connection Foundation.

“Aerial gunning is dangerous for all concerned, especially for our native wildlife.”

The Idaho Wolf Depredation Control Board is funded primarily by tax dollars. The proposals approved for funding could allow aerial gunning across much of Idaho, including lands in the Caribou-Targhee National Forest, Boise National Forest, Salmon-Challis National Forest, Sawtooth National Forest and Payette National Forest.

“Aerial gunning prioritizes wolf killings over the health and safety of our shared forests,” said Sasha Truax, presidents of Teens Restoring Earth’s Environment. “It is a twisted abuse of public funding and its continuance exposes the brutality of wolf management on public lands. It must be stopped.”

[declaration-of-dramas]

I’ve started watching Medieval Tudor Farmers. It’s sooooo good!!

About a recreation of monastery farming around 1500. A full town of recreationists 😍

[grey-sorcery]

Suggested Reading

*- Recommended

Spell Dictation* Visualization Conceptualization Vs. Visualization Basics of Spellcasting Researching Witchcraft* Online Research Tips*

Disclaimer

This article is written primarily from my personal opinion which is based on my observations, as well as the input of a plethora of other witches in the community. 

Internet Vs. Reality

It is commonplace for online witchcraft content to be about one’s personal practice. Stories, spells, philosophies, and aesthetics make up a massive majority of available content. For many, myself included, witchcraft is a form of escapism, especially for those who live in poverty or under oppression. Unfortunately, this leads to a dramatization of content for a great deal of content creators. Because of this, there is fear-mongering about spiritwork, exaggeration about the effects & effectiveness of spellwork, and unrealistic expectations of what witchcraft should look like. Furthermore, the prevailing culture about witchcraft is heavily rooted in white supremacy, appropriation, and classism; which, over the last decade or so, has been largely due to the gradual integration of New Age and New Thought philosophies and practices. Misinformation and unwarranted gatekeeping are rampant, leading to a tendency for all witchcraft content to be palatable, fluffy, inefficient, ineffective, vague, and/or simplistic.

Spell Dictation Online

It is so important for fledgling witches to understand that, due to the way spells are recorded online and in books, they will not have the same effects for them as it did the author of those spells. It is incredibly difficult to dictate spells accurately enough for them to be precisely reproducible. It is in responsible practice to use found spells as inspirations for spells rather than actual guides. If a spell online mentions requiring visualization, it definitely wouldn’t be wise to try to reproduce it. I have already thoroughly covered this topic, if you’d like to read further see the suggested reading section.

Old Grimoires & Archaic Metaphysics

For many practitioners, “Traditional” witchcraft seems more potent or powerful. This is most noticeable in the Ceremonial and Trad Craft communities. All the while failing to understand that actual witchcraft traditions are a cultural phenomenon, and not something that can be learned through a book, with seldom exceptions through recreationist practices. Like many religious and scientific texts of antiquity, grimoires and books on magical philosophies are going to be written through their own colloquial and cultural lenses, making them significantly less applicable in a modern practice. The study of these texts are great to gain a glimpse into the practices that others have done before us, but it is important to realize that just because content is written through their own contemporary cultural filter, doesn’t excuse the oppression and bigotted subjects and perspectives often found in older texts. It is impossible and irresponsible to try to separate content from their author’s mentality. Study of these texts should be through an academic pursuit, and not one of application.

What if My Personal Practice IS My Content?

For a great many of creators, especially online, writing content about their personal practice is the easiest thing to do, as doing so provides social protection and plausible deniability when it comes to their assertions. Unfortunately, this allows for the commodification of misinformation and placation of imitation and pretense. Because of the evolution of modern metaphysics, alongside its expression in available content, witchcraft has become heavily reliant on consumerism. When making content from your personal practice, it is imperative to have an extensive disclaimer for those just getting into witchcraft that states the origins of the subject matter and that it is to serve as inspiration and not to be attempted directly.

I Read Something Online That Invalidates My Practice

Witchcraft is an incredibly diverse subject due to the overwhelming number of cultural traditions and individual vantage points. When researching, it will not be uncommon to come across some content that makes you feel invalidated in your craft. For some, this is definitely warranted, specifically for those who take part in appropriative, destructive, or oppressive practices and philosophies such as: Wicca, Ceremonial Magick, New Thought, New Age, Theosophy, Nihilism & Racist Neo-Paganism. For others, there are two options: continue on or take the time to digest the content and then see if it aids in your practice or not. Reacting emotionally to your practice being invalidated by online content does not help anyone, nor is it anyone’s problem but your own. It is so important to approach the study of magic critically and rationally. It is only in its application that magic can be taken by a muse. Remember that you curate your own internet experience.

Aesthetics, Lifestyle, & Practice

Witchcraft is an action, but in practice it is built on one’s philosophy, faith, lifestyle, etc. This is why everyone’s craft looks and feels different. For some witchcraft is an entire lifestyle that is lived out in the open; while for others, it is a precious secret skill. It is also a commodity. Many have, or wish to have, a witchy aesthetic regardless of if they practice or not. Aesthetics are a tool and are by no means necessary for practice. They make us feel good and help us obtain or maintain headspace for workings. Like all concepts within witchcraft, what classifies as a witchy aesthetic can vary wildly. When searching or feeling for an aesthetic, it is best to find what helps you feel confident in your working so that you can channel your intent (not desire) more thoroughly.  

Efficiency & Effectiveness

So much witchcraft is practiced inefficiently, that isn’t any concern of mine, or anyone else’s frankly. If practicing inefficiently is okay with you, then that's valid. The issue with inefficient or ineffective practices only becomes an issue when that practice is expressed online in an educational format for others to consume or when an efficient or ineffective practice are vivaciously or adamantly defended on a public platform. 

Freedom & Pragmatism

As sentient and intelligent organisms, we are all allowed to have our own UPG, faith, practices, perspectives, opinions, philosophies, etc. Doing so is unavoidable. Having the freedom to decide what is and is not accepted as part of our personal crafts is entirely within our discretion. When researching witchcraft, rather than approaching information from a mindset of “this person is telling me how to practice”, it would be significantly more beneficial for everyone to use a “let me try this and see if it makes a difference in my practice” kind of mindset. Without the freedom to find how to express and project ourselves, witchcraft cannot function as there is a lack of intent. If the means in which our intent is projected is inharmonious with the self, then it also will not function. Our freedom of expression and experimentation is what allows us all to grow and develop. Finding that sweet spot is going to look different for everyone. Sometimes the only method that works for someone is the least efficient method, and that’s okay. Do what is practical for you, but remember that you are responsible for the content you publish. Self-awareness is incredibly important in this way. 

If you read this whole article, thank you. If this article makes you mad, good. Identify yourself. You are part of the problem. 

To learn more about me, my services, and/or find my informational guides on witchcraft, click here!

[mercy-misrule]

Mandalorian spoilers

Bo Katan losing her home and one of her remaining pieces of connection to her identity, only to be overwhelmed and unknowingly made ready to join a cult of recreationist traditionalists is so funny and dark. I absolutely know that that's not the intent the author's had, but man kind of a sad and fucked up move on Din's part here.

This is my purposefully least kind read on the situation, but in all seriousness, I don't think it's without merit, just a little.

Anyway, if the take on this story is that conformity to one strict, inflexible way of living, rather than diverse ways banding together, I'll be so irritated.

[borom1r]

guess who just wrote a second personally-important LotR fic, this time about Rohirric culture bc that’s just been the brain itch recently???

THIS guy 👍🏻👍🏻

(Rohirric culture mirroring old Norse culture is so important to me as a recreationist heathen. anyways Ulfheðnar 🤝🏻 Riders of the Mark + using rituals to connect w/ the divine before a battle)

[thefalloutwiki]

Fallout Tactics: Splitters

Pictured: The Canadian People's Front and the Peoples Front of Canada in the fierce battle of calling the opposing group splitters.

This special encounter in Fallout Tactics references a scene in the Monty Python movie, Life of Brian.

Fallout Tactics has three special encounters relating to Canada, with the other two being called “Canadian Invasion” and “Canadian Invasion Recreationists.” You can read more about Canada here:

https://fallout.wiki/wiki/Canada