bro you just triggered my deimatic display bro. I’m flaring my wings and bobbing my head while hissing at you bro. please be scared of me
Not today Justin

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@godsmadeofleaves
bro you just triggered my deimatic display bro. I’m flaring my wings and bobbing my head while hissing at you bro. please be scared of me
i've seen enough horror movies starring upper-middle-income white families stuck in spacious haunted mansions. gimme stories about millennials stuck in haunted studio apartments. consider the realism:
why is this protagonist staying in an obviously haunted building despite the glaring warning signs? because a week at a motel would send them spiraling into credit card debt, they'll take their chances with the vengeful spirits. why did they chose this apartment complex to begin with, despite the many many unexplained mysterious deaths that show up on the first page of a google search? hon some of us don't have the credit score to move away from high (paranormal) crime areas. how could i be so careless as to sign a soul-binding contract with a demonic entity? bitch they're called LANDLORDS
okay :)
i had gotten a dog, so the dog was a factor. dogs have to be the right size and shape. under 50 pounds. please see our restricted breeds list. he sleeps most of the time, a well-behaved menace. he's big because i'm single in the city and it gets dark here early - but i've had to trade that sense of safety for scrambling-for-housing.
cheerfully i report that i live in a hole! because humor, like vicks, soothes what-is-horrible. the windows are painted shut. the fridge sometimes just shuts off for no reason. there are only 2 working stove burners and they're not in the front. for some reason, rust is everywhere, no matter whether it makes sense for an area to rust. the door in the bathroom has a very badly-patched hole; white-yellow stark against the bad cherry vinyl.
okay. it's what i can afford. the pamphlet had said new england nepenthes(TM) apartments: a beautiful place to grow up. and yes, it's ground-floor, which isn't ideal. so we (my dog and i) have successfully secured the door with one of those big prybars that are 50 dollars. also i usually balance something heavy near any possible entrances - i want to be awake when they fall. you know, during the break-in.
for the first four months, i didn't notice. there had been so much to do in those four months. okay, our (okay, my, he doesn't pay rent) kitchen is literally four tiles wide and undivided from the other spaces. the dining room and office are also the living room (which is. also the kitchen). my bed is too big for the bedroom; i can either have it weirdly against the wall with a door (horrible) or i have to give up opening my closet all the way.
my mama raised me on martha stewart, so. it's quiet here, i love the location, and even if it's rundown, i can make it work. i buy peel-and-stick reusable wallpaper that has long lines to make it look like everything is taller. i move the plants around, trying to get them into the most sun. i put up shelves and hope that i'll have enough spackle later to cover up the worst mistakes i've made with the nail gun. and hey! the location. like the pamphlet said: a beautiful place to grow up.
it's in the middle of putting up our new wrought iron plant holders. i have adhd, time when i'm focused can pass ephemerally. oh shit, i realize. it's 9:30 in the evening. i am probably keeping people awake with all the drilling. fuck. my bad. i tilt an ear upstairs, waiting. nobody slamming the floor with a broom. nobody shouting. maybe quiet hours are at 10 and they're just waiting.
the holders are real wrought iron because my plants weigh a lot. i press the last one above my head, against the pilot holes. now i feel bad about the time. i should just wrap up this last one i'm attaching and then go to bed. if i wait, i'll forget in the morning. distracted, i look down to where i've left the screws on my desk (which is often also my dining room table and art station), and, as if the wall spat the screws out, the iron slips out of my grasp and cracks me hard against my nose before tumbling down to the floor.
fuck.
one of the worst things about living alone is when you get hurt. sparks jump in front of me. my eyes start tearing. fuck! i've broken my nose before, this feels like that. fuck fuck fuck. maybe it's not broken?
i have to hobble off the stool, trying to hold my nose while also not wanting to touch it. i do the first adult thing i can think of - call a bigger adult.
hey mama. i pant into the phone. no worries but how do i know if i broke my nose?
30 minutes later, we have decided it hurt but if i don't have a black eye, the nose is fine. it was already out of alignment anyway. i say the whole sordid story to her, and then i add i just feel bad i lost track of time, it's weird none of my neighbors complained.
as soon as i hang up, i hear the upstairs neighbors, with their quiet feet and soft, muffled voices. i hear people to the right and left of me. i hear them murmuring to each other. someone watches bad tv, i can hear the reality show music-to-dramatic-shouting.
i put ice on my face. i google nose break again just to be sure. i ask my dog if he thinks i look ugly, he responds by putting his three paws into the air and asking for a tummy rub. as part of our nightly ritual, i examine and worry about his amputation, even though it's completely healed up. i still do the physical therapy exercises with him. just in case. just to keep him warmed up.
later in bed, i am reaching to turn on gentle rain for white noise before i realize - huh. i think this evening is the first time i've ever actually heard anyone.
you ever have a thought that gets inside of you? i mean, yeah. of course you do, i guess all thoughts are inside you. but once in a while, don't you get one of those haha funny! thoughts that turns. bad. you know, when you've watched a scary movie and close the laptop and think it's not likely there's a killer in there, but have i ever really checked that deeply in the kitchen sink?
i was always the type to check. just in case. to put my mind at ease.
the thought is there when i wake up, like i'd had it for a while: i never actually see anyone coming and going.
the apartment complex is 12 buildings, staggered like spokes on a clock. i live in 6, the furthest from the road. we are spaced unevenly, but when i first saw it, i thought huh. what a nice quiet community. the grass is green and there are never any leaves. i've never seen someone come mow it. there are cars here, plenty. when was the last time you counted which cars are in the communal lot?
isn't it weird how you're always able to snag that one last spot?
i keep weird hours, is all. i laugh at the thought of it. there was a post on tumblr once that asked how long would it take you to realize the building was entirely empty. but it can't be empty, right? at night, when i can see into other people's apartments, i catch sight of the thousand ways other people decorate. blue LED lights or tapestries or nice curtains. so it is silly to think about that post, when i know other people are here. this is someone else's home.
i mention it to my sister when she comes over to help me move the couch purposelessly around before we both decide it was better where i'd originally had it. nobody, like, lives here. i say. it's weird. i've been here for five months, and i don't see anyone.
she shrugs. maybe it's too expensive for the area, or not really advertised enough. maybe most people my age keeping my hours don't like to live in apartments. who is to say.
after that, the shadows start. my dog and i go on our nighttime walk, and then i see the apartments come to life. the flickered silhouettes of them. the flash of tvs and laptops. the gauzy shape of others just-far-enough i can't quite make out their form. they walk away from the windows if i get close enough.
they must not know how to do it right. every third day, the animations repeat.
oh, i get it. i think. i'm living in a horror novel.
i'm cuban. my culture can be superstitious, yes. but it also means that i have been taught to keep my head on a swivel. we do not fuck with this shit. we do not oujia board the spirits for fun. we do not make a joke about the killer. we do not ever tempt fate, her ears are open-and-listening.
my lease is for one year. it's been five months, that's not that much longer. i can't afford to break it (or to move) at the moment. and, again, the dog factor. and i do love the location.
but once it is obvious, it is so obvious. i try to pay my rent by check just the once, but when i swing by the rental office, the whole floor of the building is dark. there is no cheerful team of realtors, only a single dark panel over door. due to unexpected circumstances, we are currently operating elsewhere. i go online and pay there instead.
no one here hosts parties. the mail truck never seems to come to any of the other buildings. my dog doesn't like going near certain places. i discover a 5-foot radius where my phone will always hang up on the person i'm talking with, even if i have service.
i watch carefully, while also pretending i am not watching. i check my mail, waiting for the electricity bill that never comes calling. in the front hall, amazon packages come with names too smudged for me to ever quite read. sanchez, maybe. then, to the same apartment a week later: tawny reed. it's different again the third week. i stop looking, feeling like i'm prying.
i mention how quiet it is here during the day to one of my bosses, and then the upstairs neighbor appears. her alarm goes off when mine does, almost like an echo. when i change my song, it takes her a few days to keep up. i had said something offhand about how i'm the only one with a dog. then, upstairs - the little patter of dog paws.
at night, i start seeing people on my dog walking route. they pace, insubstantial, something black at the end of their lead. their waving arms always bent at right angles, like they are figuring out how to navigate being 3D. i always wave back, cheerfully. i keep my headphones in. they are over there in the mist that-does-not-belong, and i am over here in the light-that-flickers-on-and-off. i do not need to make a scene about this. there are many reasons people might dissolve into nothing. it is not any of my business.
the upstairs girl smokes. i see her with her (pomeranian? poodle?) little rat-rabbit-dog (? dog in the loosest sense of the word), her legs up on the stoop. she always goes inside when i show up to our building, after giving me one of those straight side-to-side waves. i can never quite make out her features. she won't be there when i leave for our walk, but she'll be there when we get back, no matter how long my walk takes. she watching me, her eyes dark. she sits there, smoking, wearing galaxy-print leggings. the little dog running near her. (sometimes the dog is not there, until i look again, and it is. i must have just missed it, or maybe it was hiding under one of the trim little bushes. not my concern, whatever it is.)
i know she smokes, i can see the red glow and smell it on the air after. but there are no places to dispose of the butts and she never leaves behind any litter. so she must be careful with them, which i appreciate. cigarettes are bad for the environment. i am in no place to judge someone for their vices anyway. during the day, sometimes i hear her dog (a corgi? a terrier?) whine, this thin, reedy sound, like someone gasping for breath. like someone buried alive. a howl like dread. sometimes it even sounds human; garbled and anxious, bow wow wow warping into help help help.
but i'm sure my dog whines when i'm gone, too. i will not report her for this, because it's not her fault. and i don't want to get her in trouble. after all, we all love our dogs so much.
when i write a request for maintenance to help me with ants, i get a bounce-back error. three days later, we wake up, and a sea of dead ant bodies litter my carpet. an inch deep, they float on each other's backs, a black blanket.
i vacuum them up. i feel bad about their little ant souls. i tell them i am sorry. i will light a candle. i tell myself - this is no different than calling an exterminator. to remove yourself from the process is an act of careful self-duplicity - we would have been killing the ants another way, and just anticipating someone else handle the transaction.
how do i call someone about this? i cannot break the lease because i think the others here are ghosts. or my other theory: maybe the whole thing is a carnivore, and i am in the belly, already beginning to rot.
we cannot afford to move, it's only been six months. the heat and the lights stay on. i never invite others over. it feels wrong. we are alone here, the way we should be alone here. this is our place, for me and my dog and the rest of us. we are supposed to be here. we are supposed to live here, in this little hole-in-the-ground apartment.
we are not under any form of threat, anyway. i light candles and say the prayers our father taught us. we keep our distance from the mist ones, and adopt their way of waving, side-to-side. it is starting to look less like a wave and more like beckoning. come on, come on. something keeps us locking our door. we put up more wrought iron, even after it hit us so hard-on-the-face, which wasn't fun, and was very mean. maybe we should take it down - except i know it was so much effort to put up. oh the tub leaks and the freezer has begin to lock while it's shut. our boss says we look pale these days. we blame insomnia. it's just that it's so quiet here, sometimes. we like to make ourselves go very-quiet too, like a mouse. and then we turn that horrible white-noise machine on. we are so strange; we push salt down the drains and into our doorways, which is a waste and a bad thing to do. we do not look into the electricity problem. we fix the lightbulb without complaint. we do not send in new notices to maintenance, even when the rust on the walls starts running. we get fabulosa and scrub everything. we do not make a fuss. when our neighbors that have-no-jaw open the door for us, we keep our eyes on our dog and say thank you! and make polite small-talk. when they garble their responses let your welcome out, (no throat but the sound's so loud?)-we say haha yeah and scoot by the cold spot. we help others get their groceries out of the car even though the bags smell rotten. we do not use the basement laundry room with the single pale yellow lightbulb, even though it is so friendly and warm and free; we drive elsewhere for that, which might be lazy of me. whenever we leave, we take our dog, even though he would be fine alone, surrounded by the strange creep of rust. we are kind, and not frenzied. isn't that strange? shouldn't we be frenzied? there have been so many odd things here, shouldn't we be reacting? instead we sit in our apartment and say, casually - oh, i'm fine. how fun! how interesting. are we waiting for something? if we're waiting, which of us is hiding and which of us is hunting? we count our days on the lease - six months left! we can grow to enjoy it here. it has its quirks, but hey. sometimes staying for the location is reason-enough.
and we love it here. it's a beautiful place to grow up.
What Native people say about the use of sage: you can use sage, but you cannot smudge as nothing you are doing (waving sage around) is actually smudging. Smudging is a ceremony and you are, we promise, not smudging. Please buy sage from either us, or someone who sources the sage from us. White sage may not be considered endangered by the US government but corperate sourcing is making it difficult for us to source sage for our own religious purposes. Let alone to sell it.
What white people hear: never use sage ever, don’t ever buy it, don’t own it, don’t even look at it.
Look, y’all. There’s a couple of facets to my talk today.
1) Yes! You can buy sage! You really, truly can! Buy it from either native sellers (go to a powwow! Eat our food, buy our stuff, watch some dancing!) Or buy it from a seller who sources the sage from native people. Pick one. And no, buying it from 5 Below doesn’t count.
2) you CANNOT smudge. This isn’t just you “shouldn’t”— this is a YOU ARE INCAPABLE OF SMUDGING. Waving a sage stick around your doorways IS NOT SMUDGING. It is smoke clensing. Smudging, depending on the tradition and tribe, could easily have dancing and drums involved. You, as a white person, do not have the cultural BACKGROUND to even know how it works. At all. Period.
3) please, for FUCKS SAKE, stop making posts here on tumblr where you tell other white people about cultural appropriation and what they can and cannot do. Please stop, your license has been revoked because none of you bother to get the facts right. We native people are FULLY CAPABLE OF DOING IT OURSELVES. Consider instead: a) reblogging our posts where we talk about it! We’re here! We have made posts!! b) Making a post that states what we said and then LINKS BACK TO US. Screenshot with a link if you must. Stop centering your own voices in these conversations. You are already centered in everything, stop centering yourselves in a native space.
I’m tired of this nonsense, y’all.
Thanks for coming to my TedTalk ™
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I used to try to be nice and gentle about Wiccans here but I’m done with that.
Wicca is a load of bullshit. It’s a culturally appropriative “religion” that was created by a racist predator to have sex with young women. It’s just as restrictive as Christianity but convinces young people they’re “rebelling”. It’s also binary as hell, a breeding ground for transphobes, and has no real basis in any one culture.
It can not be divorced from its racist, transphobic and predatory origins. You can’t be like “I’m a Wiccan but I reject that” because the racism, appropriation, binary-centrism and predatory nature IS Wicca. It’s woven into every fibre of the “religion”.
Learn about your own culture- for real, not just what you can find online, and definitely not from Wiccan sources. Quit stealing other cultures. Quit acting like your path is the correct one. Be more critical of what you involve yourself in.
I’ve said this before, and I’ll *always* get backlash for it, so let me expand upon this a little bit for my followers who are new to the circle of pagans and have no idea what I’m talking about:
In the 1940′s (ish), a man named Gerald Gardner decided to start a religion. So he wrote some books. But who was going to join if he admitted that he’d just come up with it? So he claimed it was old, ancient, even. That his religion was all about primal, venerated knowledge. To make this *seem* legit, he started cherry picking from religions, including closed ones, and throwing names and terms around for good measure. He appropriated a ton of cultures, taking them out of their context and just making stuff up about them. (example: Cernunnos was NEVER once depicted sexually in history, but wicca conflates him with pan and “the horned god” so all of the wiccan resources call him a fertility god.) He even wrote a book about Aphrodite worship despite... not following any of the beliefs of the Greek pantheon, and claiming his religion was a different one altogether.
So let’s talk a little about Gerald Gardner. He was openly homophobic, claiming that same-sex relationships made his Goddess angry. He popularized the “skyclad” ritualistic thing of doing witchcraft in his circle naked to see his priestesses without clothes.
His Great Rite, a staple of his religion, is an interesting thing in and of himself. He basically decided that a man and woman needed to let the gods possess them and then have sex to perform his rite, thus giving him, a priest, an excuse to have sex with his fellow clergy. This wasn’t an optional rite, either. For many, (read about BTW, British Traditional Wiccans), it’s *required* to rise in rank within wicca. Some wiccan groups also requite sexual whipping to rank up as well.
Gardner was also a known associate of Aleister Crowley. If you don’t know who he is, I’m not gonna heavily detail it here because google will provide far more than I could ever type, but he’s a prominent figure in modern pagan circles! And also a massive racist and nationalist.
If you don’t know much about wicca itself, it’s a duotheistic religion, meaning it has two gods. Or rather, a God and a Goddess. Everything in wicca is split in this way, actually-- masculine and feminine-- because it was based around his sexual predation. More on that in a moment, but for all of the nonbinary followers I have reading this post, note that wicca is highly binary and not historically friendly for those who don’t fit in one of the two boxes.
So let’s talk a little about Gardner and his predation, yes? He advocated this Great Rite between himself, the High Priest, and High Priestesses. Alright. So as the years went by, and he became a more powerful leader, he claimed that the rite was symbolic of the deities (as always) and added that the God is dominant over the Goddess. Thus, he wanted younger women for the rite. This really shows how his religious practices were more cultish, for personal gain, than genuine.
Gardner is far from the end of this creepiness, though. Wicca has always attracted predators because it’s a part of the inherent rhetoric. You simply cannot split that from it-- the religion is based on it. And on appropriation. On a gender binary, too. None of these things can be removed from the beliefs, which all started a lie (claiming a long line of tradition to gain followers), to begin with.
I’m sure a lot of you will unfollow me. I’m sure I’ll get a lot of threats, like usual. But I feel very strongly about this. Young followers, especially, be wary about your path. You deserve to know the history behind your practice.
PSA:
Using white sage despite being aware of the cultural destruction involved makes you an asshole
Put your relatives in jars this holiday season
My grandmother suddenly being positive and supportive isn't an accident. I've been working a sweetening jar spell on her for a couple years now, with steady improvement, but in the past month or so I've been changing how I work the jar by working the jar on the ancestor altar. Since then grandma has done a complete 180 with her attitude problem and her patronizing unsolicited and outdated advice. As it turns out, her own ancestors, late husbands, and deceased sons were also done with her shit. Grandpa, her other husband, and my dad all HATED their time in the military and were pretty appalled that her suggestion that I should marry a man with a military pension or go work for the Pentagon like my second cousin. That's right, I told on my Grandma to my dead Grandad and Step-Grandad about Grandma's gold-digging "advice". My late uncle, and my great uncles and aunts also didn't appreciate her always shitting on my creative and academic aspirations. Many of them died wishing they'd spent more time writing poetry, drawing, and wishing they'd pursued careers in design. Since airing my grievances to the dead, Grandma has not only stopped giving me lectures on careers and marriage, but she's stopped saying mean things about everyone all the time. My Grandmother has always been a nagging, stubborn, critical, Negative Nancy. But since I began reworking the spell jar she's in from my ancestor altar, she's been nothing but kind and humble. I think I'm doing her a favor, too, at 95 she shouldn't be carrying all that bitterness and cynicism with her to the grave. If you're having trouble with your family, just bind them. Binding spells aren't curses, you're not harming someone by binding them and putting them in a jar of honey. You don't have to tolerate a relative always crushing your dreams, you can actually force them to be nice, for your wellbeing and theirs. I used to dread seeing my Grandma's caller ID flash on my phone screen, now I can actually have a nice conversation with her without being lectured about my "reckless lifestyle". Bind your relatives and work the jars on your ancestor altars, people! It works!
Can confirm. Use your dead family against the living ones and make them more agreeable.
Pagan holiday’s are fun cus no one can figure out if they should preface their holiday greatings with “happy” “merry” or “blessed”
@greed-the-dorkalicious you’re right and you should say it
BITCHIN’ YULE TO ALL MY PAGAN FOLLOWERS
Some of you will not like this and some of you will definitely try to deny it.
But
The crystal metaphysical properties are typically made up to sell them and they were never used in those ways by witches of the past.
If you want to use crystals under a traditional magic paradigm, you still have options! Look at medieval lapidaries; they list healing properties of stones that were known at the time. Otherwise, work with them under an animistic framework, as you would a plant. Get to know its spirit, its wants, and how it may assist you. This is great for stones that are too recently discovered to have been used in classical magic.
Hey! I have to tell you all about this amazing app I came across today while looking through tarot creators’ accounts.
This app is called Labyrinthos Academy, from the creator of the Golden Thread tarot and Luminous Spirit Deck! It’s a matching activity app that teaches you the meanings of the 78 tarot cards, both right side up and reversed.
It’s completely free and the only commitment to the app is making an account in order to use it. From there, you choose whether you’re a witch, a wizard, or a mage (I’m assuming it’s female/male/non-binary), and you learn the meanings using a digital version of the Golden Thread tarot deck. Every time you pass a lesson, you get somewhere between 3-5 cards that you can study! As you complete more lessons, your little character levels up and gains some cute new attire.
I’ve been trying to learn tarot for such a long time, but everything was too messy and complicated for me. Labyrinthos Academy has been, by far, the easiest way for me to learn! The cards have an easy-to-read font and the illustrations match the adjectives so well that it’s easy to make the connection and remember.
It’s available for iOS and Android! And remember–it’s free! I’m in no way affiliated with the app or the tarot cards (nor their creator); I don’t even have a single tarot deck myself! But I wanted to share this so other witches who were struggling like me had a place to learn!
Something I think we tend to tend to forget, when talking about closed religions, is to think about why they’re closed. Because there is ALWAYS a reason for it; no community just shuts itself off from others just because it feels like it.
Some religions are closed because they’re based on cultural values and beliefs that outsiders, who weren’t raised with and immersed in those beliefs, wouldn’t be able to ever truly understand. Brujería is an example of this, as far as I know.
Some religions are closed because they’re based on location, with their beliefs centered around local things that don’t make sense outside of that location. There are some small Shinto sects that are closed for this reason.
Some religions are closed based on race, because people of a specific race banded together under terrible circumstances and formed beliefs based on their shared experiences. Hoodoo, for example, was created by African slaves so it’s only open to Black people (mainly African diaspora).
Some religions are closed because you have to be born into them, usually because it’s part of the religion’s tenants and foundation. Modern Zoroastrianism almost never recognizes converts.
Some religions are closed because, historically, they were mistreated and often criminalized, with sacred practices being stolen and bastardized by outsiders who were allowed to witness them. Those religions ended up closing to outsiders in order to protect themselves and survive. This is why the majority of indigenous religions are closed.
It’s important to understand the reasons behind religions being closed, not only so that we can learn to accept that decision, but also so that we have a better understanding of history and other people.
@simonethewitch better explanation than I could ever come up with
Custom Sigil Wheels
So I read this post https://in-her-broomcloset.tumblr.com/post/160210641160/witch-tip-making-your-sigil-look-better and I took it too seriously/misunderstood what it meant. So here are the results of what I thought she was saying, lol.
Feel free to make your own sigil wheels and stuff like that. You can encircle the sigils in a circle or in the shape of the sigil wheel used (whichever you prefer). Happy sigil making! ^^
Witchblr, we’ve developed enough of a terf problem that y’all really have to get better at recognizing radfem dogwhistles.
Like, I get that you want to reblog a cool post about how awesome the goddess is, but maybe rethink sharing it if it’s got some sort of crap about how “males just don’t understand our connection to the goddess! Don’t let men scare you out of celebrating your feminine power!”
Because that? That’s a terf thing. They’re not talking about men forcing themselves into women’s spaces, they’re talking about trans women.
Just a few other things to look out for
They call others “Genderists”
They usually use the phrases “trans activist”, “trans activism” and talk about how horrible they are
They call themselves “gender critical”
Talking about how men are always violent and women are always Pure
They say females instead of women
Look at the usernames for phrases like “rad” “terf” and usually references to genitalia
You can also read other posts pointing out terf rhetoric/ dogwhistles to familiarize yourself, so you can keep an eye out!
They get really WEIRDLY fixated on menstruation and use the word “womb” a lot more frequently, on average, than non-terfs.
I don’t mean just “Hey, we should be able to talk openly about periods without being ashamed” but like “You have to menstruate to be a Real Woman it’s our special connection with the moon/the Goddess, and if you menstruate and you DON’T love and cherish your Special Moon Time, you are Bad/have been brainwashed by the patriarchy”.
The growing presence of racists in American Pagan communities threatens to tear the faith apart.
This is not news, but it is an important read, especially for people who were previously unaware of the trend of neo-Nazis stealing pagan symbols for their own.
If you are an anti-racist, anti-fascist pagan, keep doing what you are doing, you are keeping the fight alive
If you are an anti-racist, anti-fascist person who is not a pagan, help us spread the word of this, stand in solidarity with us as we kick the fascists out of our communities
If you are a fascist pagan, fuck off, this faith is a peaceful one
No platforms for fascists.
~ Max
…and right here is why you see me starting to wear non-viking garb in the SCA. Because I’m really REALLY white and really REALLY not a racist, and I hate that these people have found their way into my weekend nerdery.
I would posit that if you feel comfortable doing it, and if you feel supported, you should definitely still wear viking garb and not let fascist nazi bastards appropriate it for their own purpose without opposition. 🖤
Please, for the love of fuck, do NOT give up on either your religious paraphernalia *or* your hobbyist Viking swag because of this. Y’know what you ought to do instead? Be vocally and openly anti-racist. Make it known that all this bonehead bullshit is not what we stand for.
And how do you make something known? Well, a man by his speech is known to men.
Make fascists afraid to be vocal. Run them out and counteract their evil with overwhelming good. Make donations to charities that help people of colour under the public name and honour of Odin and Freya and Frigg and Thor. Shout louder than they do. I see a lot of fascism and disgusting vitriol in the comments section on videos from wardruna or heidlung - and something I’d like to do is reupload those videos with the express intent of curating the comments section heavily to keep that shit out. Most accounts won’t do that and they don’t notice how much hate is in their fan base. so I get really angry about these people taking music and culture that is expressly open and for everyone to pollute it in this way. If you know anyone personally that uploads videos to YouTube please remind them to curate that shit, report the bastards. Make statements that it’s not okay. Even one small platform is too one too many.
Time to take up the Thor’s hammer again, I stopped wearing it almost as soon as I discovered Norse Paganism in 2009, as my first dip into that mythos was the Asatru Folk Assembly web forums, as I was a baby Norse pagan, and didn’t know any better.
I did an immediate about-face and left after discovering how grossly racist, homophobic, and fascist everyone was, and have struggled since then to connect to the Norse deities and practices because of it. They also openly mocked using runes for magic or divination, performing Witchcraft, and basically stated they were atheists.
I wish I had been braver to try and shut that shit down, but I was too scared. Now all I can do is make sure that I help demolish any platform I come across, and speak out against their steaming pile of shit rhetoric.
so just a ? what if a native deity chose you but you were a white person ?? I had a dream about Apistotoke (A blackfoot Goddess) she had me pray with her at a shallow pond. It was so strange, I know plenty of different Goddesses but she was the only one that's ever been in my dream and now I can't stop thinking about her! I want to worship her and pray to her but I know, like you said, it's a closed tradition to white people. i dont think i even have an once of any POC in my blood.. advice?
You can always say “thanks but no.”
Sometimes people act like if a god approaches you, you /have/ to worship them. No, you don’t.
Especially with deities from closed cultures, who on one hand may be approaching you for worship and who also may just as likely be approaching you to let you know that you’re fucking something up.
Native deities have teeth, but they’re also highly likely to step up and come to you to tell you to STOP DOING SOMETHING because you’re offending them or hurting their people. Listen to them. Follow their directions. Then leave them alone.
Also, *spirits can lie*. Spirits can disguise themselves as gods for any number of reasons, and usually not good ones.
My DIY rune set for learning basic runes (charged and cleansed with selenite, amethyst and citrine)
I basically rolled up paper with runic meanings and slid on some paper clips, hey use what resources you have right ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
That’s actually super clever
Not to……comment on witch blogs bc that ain’t my scene but……I saw a post that was like “new witches are learning not to put up shields and protective circles during summonings because it insults the person of summoning and they might not come.”
And I can’t stop thinking about how this is literally the spooky equivalent of a guy on a first date getting mad at you if you want his last name and plates number to give your friend before you let him drive you somewhere.
Don’t get in a demon’s car without turning on your location for your friend’sphone’s come on guys
I’m losing track of this post as I go
Some Horror Terror from another dimension: Don’t bother summoning me if you have protections up it bums me out when I can’t Eat People on a Whim
Me, doin a summoning in my uncle’s yard barn: No that seems totally reasonable
why limit yourself between choosing between a pretty feminine aesthetic or a dark one? if persephone can be the goddess of spring & queen of the underworld at the same time so can you
This is both against the gender roles that God put forth and in favor of the worship of pagan God’s. This is blatant satanic blasphemy
frollo has logged tf on
Reblog if you too are against the gender roles that God put forth and in favor of the worship of pagan Gods.