#aleister crowley speaks about this at length

[arizona-green-tea-absolutist]

Reflecting on the Ron White bit about how everyone is a little gay because they want the male actors in porn to be explicitly virile: that's not an accident of confluence, that's on purpose

Think about who makes porn

[maddiviner]

How much of Scientology is based on Thelema? Is the connection real or a conspiracy theory?

The Scientology-Thelema connection is not a conspiracy theory at all, as far as I’ve been able to tell, but a matter of historical fact. L. Ron Hubbard was a close confidante of Jack Parsons. 

The latter went to great lengths in personal correspondence trying to convince Aleister Crowley that Hubbard was and adept in touch with his Guardian Angel. Crowley was having none of it and considered them both “louts,” but Crowley (through Parsons) did influence Hubbard.

Even the Church of Scientology itself admits this, after a fashion. They give us the impossible fable of dashing L. Ron Hubbard “breaking up black magic” in America by infiltrating the OTO. 

They don’t deny it happened, just the specifics of it like that, because they have to make Hubbard the protagonist of all this somehow.

The book Strange Angel is a non-fiction biography of Jack Parsons that explains a lot of this. The TV show of the same name is a loosely-derived work of fiction, though.

For those wondering, I studied Thelema from about 2012 to 2015. I was a member of the Caliphate Ordo Templi Orientis. I was also connected with a specific A.’.A.’. lineage run by a very unpleasant man (yeah, that narrows it down! hah!) from around 2013-2014. 

I’ve got no connection to Scientology, really. Unless you count my college’s computer system completely crashing due to the students constantly DDoSing Scientology sites back in 2007, which was a thing that did happen, weirdly enough. 

I’ve read a large amount of Hubbard’s material on various very old websites, and I’ve read some autobiographies by (former) Scientologists.

I can’t really say how much of it is actually based on Thelema. But I know the connection is there, for a few reasons. It’s been years but yes, there’s certain passages of Hubbard that seem based on older Crowley works. 

I’ve heard it suggested that Scientology’s concept of “clear” is merely a reworking of Thelema’s view of “Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel.” I’ve also heard that the Scientologist “Wall of Fire” is just a close Xerox of the Thelemite notion of the Abyss.

I’ve personally always thought the Scientology “dynamics 1-4″ concept was based somewhat on Crowley’s pamphlet, Duty, and also draws from a few other places.

Keep in mind, though, that the Abyss and K&C aren’t limited to Thelema. In fact the Thelemic view of these concepts retools their Golden Dawn (and earlier) versions. By that, I mean the original Victorian-era Golden Dawn, not whatever David Griffin is playing.

I guess you can say two things. Hubbard was involved heavily with Thelema, and Hubbard was heavily influenced by the Western Magical Tradition via Thelema and Crowley. Beyond that, it’s not something I can be sure about, and maybe those who know more will chime in?

I also don’t claim to be an expert on Thelema but I do believe I’ve got something of a place to speak from about it.

I no longer consider myself a Thelemite, though, for reasons I’ve discussed before.

[musingsfromthemythos]

A Gift and a Show

I had always had an affinity for the weird things in life. Nothing too far out of the ordinary; cryptids, chaos magic, the Kabbalah. Harmless stuff. Ritual and speculation. It was my “thing” among my friends. I was the “spooky one.” The one who was always ready with some obscure Aleister Crowley reference or walking them through some morbid myth over drinks. 

It was fun for me, and I liked that quirky little niche I occupied. All of my friends were a little odd in some way but that corner of the bizarre was mine. I was happy. I never really went looking for any of that stuff of course. I didn’t really believe. It was just a hobby. Some esoteric nonsense to amuse my friends and confuse my Bible-thumping parents. 

Then my birthday came around. This was a time when I was stuck at home a lot. Between jobs, not much to do but read and watch horror films and wait for something to happen. My family and friends brought or sent presents of the usual kind of things I favored: whiskey, video games, absurd graphic T-shirts, and the like. But the day after, I received a new package: a slim manila envelope addressed to me personally. 

Its packaging was unremarkable in every way, with one notable exception. No matter how long I stared - brow furrowed and eyes squinting - I couldn’t make out the return address. The words were English, of that I am absolutely certain, and they weren’t nonsense. They were definitely words. I just... couldn’t understand them. The stamp I clearly remember. It was a simple gray lily, set against a black background. It was both utterly unremarkable and endlessly perplexing. 

I opened the package of course. How could I not? Curiosity has always been one of my strongest vices, and this was too weird for me not to dig deeper. 

Inside, there was a single piece of hard paper. More like a postcard than anything else. One side of it was glossy black, completely unmarked. The other side had an address, and what I can only describe as some theatrical billing. I won’t put the address to writing. I don’t want anyone else to experience what I went through, no matter what their level of morbid intrigue. 

It was an invitation. The show was titled The Audient Void, starring one “Nathan Hopper” as the main presenter. The sole caption detailing the performance was “For fans of the Weird, the Macabre, and the World Behind the World.”

At the time I had of course assumed this was something like an escape room, or else one of those “find the serial killer” augmented reality games you hear advertised on podcasts all the time. I was convinced it was something that one of my friends had paid for as a birthday present. 

I sent a text to our group chat asking who had sent it, but none of my friends owned up to it. I was half-convinced at the time that one or more of them was well-aware of the package and was just playing dumb until after I had seen the show. Then they would bombard me with questions and jokes about my peculiar affinity for the odd. 

So I went. Of course I went. The venue was close enough to my apartment that I could attend the show and even meet with with my friends for drinks afterwards. 

The location was respectable enough. I live in an older part of the city and the theater where the performance was being held was one of those dignified but antiquated sort of places. I won’t give any more details for the same reason I won’t disclose its address, but it looked as benign as anything else in its neighborhood. 

The theater itself was packed. I was struck by how diverse my fellow spectators were. Some were clearly from my sort of crowd, with artfully dyed or cropped haircuts and clothing that screamed “look how different I am.” But others seemed like they would have been more at home in a bible study group, or a police academy, or a retirement home. They all wore the same expression though. They, like me, were intrigued by what was to come, but were equally befuddled by the medley of their fellow theater-goers. 

Then the lights flashed briefly and dimmed. Silence fell over the crowd. And our host for the evening took the stage. 

What I remember most about Nathan Hopper is how utterly unremarkable he was. He wasn’t tall or short. He wasn’t fat or thin. He was far from ugly but equally distant from handsome. Hell, I had a hard time discerning if he leaned more masculine or feminine - not that that last bit matters to me, especially now.

He smiled. I remember him smiling. And he began to speak. 

And then the world broke. 

It was such a quiet thing at first. A creeping sense of... wrongness that pervaded the air. Do you know that feeling you get when you overestimate the length of a staircase and your stomach jolts as you try to climb that last phantom step? It was that. Except it lasted. 

Time began to lose meaning, and it occurred to me that time never had meaning. The concept of time being relative and therefore valueless was always something I had regarded cognitively: a masturbatory thought exercise in metaphysics. But this time, I felt it. 

The theater grew darker. I could still see Nathan Hopper, cheerily speaking in words that I can’t remember, but his face was the only one I could make out anymore. As the last vestiges of light left the auditorium I glanced to my right and left, seeking some small reassurance of realty in my fellow spectators. I couldn’t see their faces. I’m not even sure if they had faces now. 

I still can’t really see faces. 

Then I was falling. I was alone, and I was falling. Darkness encircled me. It didn’t smother me, I wasn’t drowning or suffocating. It didn’t bury me in the way that you might think. If anything, it was opening to me. I felt it yawning, the space growing ever larger. 

For a moment, I saw stars. Not in the sense that I was concussed or dizzied. No, I saw the stars. They were beautiful, surrounding me in my endless black void. They reassured me, somehow, even in that widening nothingness. 

And then they started to die. One by one the stars winked out. I swiveled my head desperately, desperately searching for those precious little lights that let me cling to my sense of self. But it was in vain. 

As the last of the stars faded to darkness, I became aware of a presence. I couldn’t see, of course, and the sense of endless vertigo didn’t abate in the slightest. But somehow, I perceived it. 

It wasn’t aware of me. Of that I’m still certain. But I had no choice but to be aware of it. It roiled and thrashed in that darkness. It piped and groaned in the abyss between the corpses of stars. It didn’t know me. I didn’t want me. It couldn’t know. And it couldn’t want. It rolled in an endless tide of mindless, omnipotent apathy. I was nothing to it; I was nothing to anything. 

And, in that moment I understood. He made me understand. Not the coiling mass of power and idiocy that now surrounded me in that darkness, but its messenger. Its herald. The one who brought me here. I understood, and I knew, and I was broken by it all.

Then I was back in the theater. I can’t say for certain how much time had passed. Maybe it had been a few minutes. Maybe a year. I cast my gaze into the crowd around me. Some of the theater-goers were weeping, rocking back and force with their knees clutched to their chests. A few had become violent, scratching and clawing and beating those who occupied the seats next to them. More were catatonic, their eyes empty and vacant, and I knew in that moment they would never awaken again. 

I think a good number were dead. 

Then at last I looked back to the stage, to the thing that had called himself Nathan Hopper. But I knew it now, and he knew that I knew. 

Gone was the utterly unremarkable man. Gone was any vestige or pretense of humanity. I had seen the Audient Void, and now I could see him.   

His eyes met mine, and they were black. Empty and uncaring and as mocking as the horror I had just emerged from. So too was his skin - not the dark brown of an African heritage - but the perfect onyx of the space between stars. 

Nyarlathotep smiled, and my eyes burned from the freezing fire that lit his face. 

It hurt. 

Nyarlathotep laughed, and his mirth was a migraine that tore through my skull. 

It hurt. 

Nyarlathotep spoke, and his words were chiseled into my soul. 

It hurt.

I won’t repeat what he said to me. No one should have to hear those words. I commit this experience to writing as a warning to others. If you received an invitation to Nathan Hopper’s show, don’t go. Burn the invitation. Scatter the ashes. Drink yourself into such a stupor you never remember plucking it out of your mailbox. 

Don’t give yourself over to the games of that vicious thing and the blind idiot god that it serves. 

It’s too late for me, it’s too late. I will never be free of his eyes, his smile, his laughter. I will carry it with me until the day I die. I have seen the Audient Void. 

[otherpeoplesheartachept-2]

Firsts

Carry On Countdown Day 29

Pairing: Snowbaz

Length: 2588 words

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Sexual Content

AN: Obviously Firsts was gonna be smut, but this isn’t their first time fucking, just their first time trying some dom/sub play. (It’s very very mild tho). (Also I don’t write a lot of smut)

-

Simon’s got his forearm pressed to my collar bone, rumpling my shirt even more. “Is this dominating, do you feel dominated?” He’s glowing. I’m glowing. My smile is so wide it hurts my cheeks. Behind the playful jabbing is genuine care in Simon’s eyes. I role mine to distract from the sight of him. 

“Very dominated, Snow.” I want to ease us both into this so I’m glad he’s having fun with it. I crane my neck to kiss him. He looks like he’ll kiss me but then pulls away. “Nah ah ah. I’m the one in charge remember?” 

“Yes, sir.” I nod. 

He shivers from his neck to the tip of his tail at ‘sir’. I want him to react like that more often when I speak. I hear a faint “shit” from him. Then he slips into a more domineering persona and in a deeper voice asks, “Did I say you could speak.”

I shake my head as I feel my entire body ignite. This was an excellent idea.

“Good boy.” Now it’s my turn to shiver with delight. He steps away, leaving me pressed against the bedroom wall. I take in the miles of glorious bronze skin on display. His wings are relaxed behind him. My eyes travel to the sight of Snow’s dark green joggers hanging dangerously low on his hips. I bit my lip, hoping he gets the hint of where I want this to go. 

“Take off your clothes,” he demands. My mouth opens but I remember his rule. I frantically finish taking off my half unbuttoned shirt and push down my trousers as soon as they’re unzipped. I worry about coming off as desperate but then I think, I want to seem desperate. I want him to know how much I want this. He has the power to make me do anything he wants.

For a moment he stares, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. I’m embarrassingly hard already. I don’t know if I want to shy away from his gaze or bask in it. I opt for running a hand through my long hair. 

His tail reaches out to wrap around my hand. I rub it with my thumb. He looks like he’s trying to decide what’s next. I wait for him. I want him to know he’s in charge. 

“On your knees.” he says as his tail whips away from me. I drop immediately. Something about his no nonsense tone is getting me all sorts of bothered. To think I used to mock him for his speech.

He steps closer, pulling me by the back of my head into his crotch. I close my eyes and breathe in deep. I can smell his laundry detergent, underneath it, a musk uniquely his, and underneath that, the pulse of his sweet butter and sugar blood rushing south. I have to hold back a moan. I’m aching. My only release is placing on open mouthed kiss over his clothed cock. 

This close I can tell he’s at least half hard already. I look up at him and he just pushes me closer. I do my best to mouth at his prick through the green joggers. He lets out a small moan, his wings spread a little wider, the hand in my hair clenches a little tighter. 

I reach up to grab his ass and pull him closer to my mouth. His rear has always been a favorite feature of mine; there’s a dark mole on his left cheek. Though honestly, every feature of his is a favorite. 

He grunts as my nose smushes into his stomach and my tongue makes a long wet strip down his front. Pleasure pools in my lower half. But then he looks disappointed. “No hands,” he breathes out. 

I stop touching him with my hands and want to ask where I should put them but I’m not allowed to speak. I stare up at him with the question in my eyes. He gets the message. 

“I don’t know,” he’s worked up, fully hard now. “Uh, behind your back.” I clasp my hands together behind me and lean into him so he can see I’ve followed directions. “Merlin.” He groans pulling my black hair towards him as he rolls his hips to meet my mouth. “Wouldn’t want you getting distracted by touching yourself now would we?” he puts back on the domineering manner as he picks up the speed. He has a rhythm going, grinding in to my face. 

I shake my head. “Now,” he composes himself a little, “Are you ready to do your actual job?” I moan as a response. We didn’t talk about a specific scene or character or ‘brand’ of domination play, so I’m not sure what my ‘job’ is but I roll with it. 

He smiles as he pushes his joggers down over his cock, no pants. His wings are almost fully stretched out now and his tail restlessly twitching. I follow his biggest moles and freckles from his cheek to his hip with my eyes. His cock is red and hard and pushed up a little by the elastic waistband. And I swear that sight would kill me if I wasn’t already undead. 

I push my nose into the coarse curls just above his prick. He hasn’t put his hand back in my hair. He knows I have to take this part slow if we want it to work. 

I used to never be able to suck Snow off, I was too scared of my fangs. I’ve learned how to control them, though it can still get tricky. 

I focus on keeping them in as I place my lips over his head. I hear him gasp, and though I desperately want to, I know looking at him will be too much. Slowly, I take him down to the root. 

This part is always the most tempting. He tastes salty and smells delicious. Ever since I’ve known what wet dreams were, I’ve been having them about Snow. The real thing is always a thousand times better than I ever thought. 

I start moving faster, causing him to place both his hands in my hair. His warmth seeps into me. I come up and run my tongue under the head of his cock. He shudders and his tail violently whips up before latching onto my bent knee. I probably shouldn’t be as aroused by that as I am. As I fall into a rhythm his wings brush the ceiling of our room. 

I love him like this. Sweaty and moaning. Bliss written on his face, tension building in the pit of his stomach and the joints of his leathery wings. I think I should have someone paint him like this. He’s stunning. And I’m desperately hard from it; trying to rut into the carpet for any semblance of release. I watch a drop of sweat slid off his bicep before closing my eyes and letting myself just feel.

I think just then he remembers he’s supposed to be dominant because he starts spitting filthy, lovely things at me. 

“Fuck, babe.” he tugs on my hair. “So good at this, such a good boy for me. Gonna keep you here forever. Make you-” He thrusts his hips- “Make you do this everyday. All the time.” I moan so he’ll know to keep going. “Shit, Baz, you love this don’t you? Love being bossed around by me.” Even though he’s putting on the act of bossing me around I can tell he’s worried about going too fast. He keeps running his hand through my hair, and I know he’s holding back with the thrusts. I’m tempted to tell him he doesn’t have to, that I want this to be rough. I won’t get too intense though, we’re supposed to easing in. 

 “Look- practically hungry for it. Must love serving The Chosen One.”

I swear I almost cum at that. I don’t even know if I get to cum in this scene but I’m so needy and right now I need him to unload. I speed up and start swirling my tongue in the way I know he likes. He moans deep and desperate. My mouth making downright disgusting noises on his dick. 

I can tell he’s close. I feel him twitch and can taste the pre pouring from his slit. Before he finished though, he yanks my head away from him. 

He’s panting and leans into my shoulders with his arms. I move my hands to his thighs, to help steady him. 

“Not yet, Baz, I know what you were getting at, but I set the pace. It’s your turn now.” I moan at just the thought of being touched. His face is so red, it must be painful stopping that close to the edge. 

I sit, waiting for him to tell me what to do. 

“On the bed,” is all he gives me. I get up and sit on the bed, his eyes burning into me the whole time. 

He swallows, one of those big showy swallows only Simon can do. “On your stomach. Knees at the end of the bed.”

I obey him. “I uh, you touched my thighs but I don’t really- I don’t know if- how to do punishment stuff, sorry…” I can’t see him but from the tone of his voice I can tell he’s fidgeting. 

 I awkwardly twist my body around to try and look at Snow. He's stripped off his joggers. I make an effort not to stare at the newly revealed skin. “That’s perfectly alright, Love, we’re taking it slow, remember? Just do whatever is comfortable, okay?” He’s been so nervous about making this good for me ever since I suggested experimenting with new things; I’m not sure how I haven’t convinced him that anything he gives me is more than enough.  

He nods, clearing his head. “Yeah okay. How- uh how are you? What’s your color?”

“Absolutely green, Dear.” I say putting on a seductive smile to show him how into this I am. 

He smiles back but his is tooth achingly sweet. My heart stops when he looks at me like that. “Gonna open you up nice and wide for me.” His smile turned devilish. 

“Aleister Crowley.” I moan without thinking. I swear this boy will be the death of me. 

He motions for me to face forward. I do. I hear him drop to his knees right before his warm hands are on my hips, pulling me closer to the edge of the mattress.  I feel his breath on me. 

Then he’s spreading me apart with his hands and licking a long strip across my hole. It makes me shiver. 

He starts circling with his tongue. It’s so incredibly warm; I can’t help but think how good he’d feel inside me right now. He presses his tongue my hole then slowly he’s pressing it inside me. 

I rutt into the mattress and sigh. His blunt nails dig into my ass.

“Don’t move.” He says it low and gravely and I think my lungs have given out. 

There’s tears in my eyes, because this is already so much and I need to cum but I know I can’t if I have to stay still. I’ll do it, for him.

Before I know it he’s slowly pressing a lubed finger into me; his tongue leaving kitten licks just above it. In my haze I didn't even notice he grabbed lube. It’s cold at first but I swear he could set my insides alight like this.

Gently he starts pushing in and out of me. It's so good yet entirely not enough. Snow adds a second finger. His other hand squeezing the flesh of my ass cheek.  I'm grinding my teeth from the effort of holding still. I might die if one of us doesn't move soon.

Then he adds a third finger and brushed my prostate. My toes curl. My entire body feels like a rubber band pulled taut. 

"Merlin, please. Please please more." I sob.

He nips at my lower back and pulls his fingers out. I whimper, and want to beg him to put them back.

"You think you're ready?" He says more like a statement than a question. I don't know if I'm allowed to respond. "Speak." 

I bury my head in the pillow. "Yes. Please, Sir." He growls.

I hear the lube cap open then feel the bed shift as Simon straddles my hips. He pulls me towards him and sinks in. He sighs as I grasp at the bed sheets. I’m so warm and so full but he isn’t moving. 

I push my hips back in attempt to fit more of him inside. He chuckles before pulling almost fully out and sliding in again. My voice is deep and fucked but I can’t stop the noises leaving me. 

I can tell his wings are spread wide above us; I hear them scratching the ceiling and flapping slightly. 

My back arcs as Simon presses a hand at the base of my neck and grips my hip tightly with the other. His palms are dry and rough. He picks up the speed, setting a brutal pace. He’s making short grunts I could only find attractive coming from him. 

Then he starts again with the dirty talk. “Mh perfect for me, so cold. Gonna make you all mine, never let you leave.” I whine in response just as he finds my g-spot again. 

“Shit, Baz. You’re made for this. Made to take my cock so well, huh?” I think it’s a question but I’m too far gone to respond.

With every thrust he’s hitting my prostate and pushing my cock into the mattress. I’m writhing beneath him; my entire body so overwhelmed with pleasure it’s forgotten how to function. My fangs have popped, my hair a sweaty mess pressed to my forehead and I think I’m drooling but I can’t care. I’m close, so close I think I’ll cum without him even touching my prick. 

In my ecstasy I start babbling. “Simon! Hng, I’m so so- Simon! I’m-” at that the hand he’s got spread at the junction of my neck and shoulders squeezes and I’m gone. 

I go silent as I spill onto the bed, shaking with pleasure. Then my vision comes back and I’m aware of how hard my heart is beating. 

Snow’s still going but I know he won’t last much longer. My body goes slack as he fucks into me, getting more frantic and uneven with each thrust. Finally, I feel it. He stills inside me and moans. I can’t see it but I know from experience that he looks glorious. He takes a moment to recover then lays beside me. My fangs retract.

“Was that okay?” He asks pushing hair out of my face then placing a soft kiss on my temple. Shy, unsure Simon is back. 

“It was wonderful Snow-” I put a pale hand on his cheek “-Thank you for trying this with me.” I stare into his plain blue eyes as my thumb circles a freckle near his mouth. 

He blushes a little. “Let me clean you up, Pitch.” He says. I open my mouth to say he doesn’t have to but he stops me. “I want to, I kinda really like that part of it.” His blush gets deeper and he won’t look my in the eyes. Simon Snow absolutely will be the death of me one day. Aleister Crowley, I am living a charmed life.

[herokamijoutouma]

Muse Info (Updated)

Name: Kamijou Touma (Touma Kamijou)

Age: 16-19 (Verse dependent)

Gender: Male

Height; 168 cm (5'6")

Bio

Touma is a first-year highschool student who is a resident of Academy City, designated as a Level 0. He possesses the mysterious “Imagine Breaker” in his right hand, which is capable of negating all forms of magic, esper powers, and other divine abilities. This, according to some, even includes his own good luck, as they are the blessings of God. He has a very strong desire to aid all those who are in need even if it means putting his life on the line and will not hesitate to challenge an opponent who is several times more powerful than himself. Because of his willingness to help others unconditionally, he has attracted the affections of many characters in his adventures.

Personality & Character

Touma is the type that acts before he thinks. He can never just sit around upon seeing someone in a pinch and will go to great lengths to protect or help the person. This he does at great risk to himself, which typically results in him being hospitalized for several days after each confrontation. When fighting seriously against a particularly strong opponent, Touma will usually first declare that he’ll “destroy that illusion” of theirs, before actually engaging. When asked about the reason why he saves people, he answered: “I don’t need a reason to save someone”. Even when he is in a blank slate after losing his memories, Touma still displays this personality.

Despite his righteous and heroic personality, Touma occasionally displays poor choice of words which results in him getting bitten by Index, having bolts of lightning thrown by Misaka Mikoto, and creating misunderstandings with the other girls he encounters.

Powers & Abilities

Touma’s ability is Imagine Breaker (幻想殺しイマジンブレイカー Gensō Goroshi (Imajin Bureikā)?, lit. “Illusion Killer”), a mysterious power that resides in his right hand that he has had since birth. It is able to negate all supernatural powers including magic, esper, and divine powers, the last of these demonstrated by Archangel Gabriel’s fear of touching him. It is also speculated by Index that it negates the divine protection of God and his blessing, as well as the red string of fate. Touma is the current holder of the Imagine Breaker, and the mysterious power itself has a preference to Touma being its bearer, as there is meaning in Touma having it in his right hand, or in Fiamma’s own words: “the right hand is only the right hand when it is growing from his right shoulder.” According to Othinus, Touma’s knack for escaping dangerous situations through external factors and his inability to die is a form of misfortune as well, and she refers to it as the “greatest of all [his] misfortunes”.

Since it is not an esper power, the people testing esper abilities cannot detect or properly classify it, so he was classified as Level 0 as he has nevertheless passed through the Power Curriculum Program. As such, Aleister Crowley considers him neither an esper nor a magician but rather a normal person with a unique ability. This gray area allows Touma to participate and get involved in the intrigue of the other side without causing a political backlash for technically being part of the Science Side.

There are many unknowns regarding Touma’s power, and many are the speculations of the true extent and form of his power. Terra of the Left hinted that Imagine Breaker might extend itself further away from its bearer's right hand, based on Terra's personal knowledge of Fiamma of the Right's Holy Right ability. Ollerus stated that Imagine Breaker is the reference point of the world, bringing the world back to normal when it is distorted. It appears that Touma might not be capable of negating all "artificial" supernatural abilities. Tsuchimikado Motoharu is convinced that there are things that Touma's Imagine Breaker cannot destroy, including ley lines or a person's life force from which a magician's mana is produced, as evidenced by the fact Touma hasn't killed someone through a simple handshake. This claim is corroborated by Leivinia Birdway, stating that although Imagine Breaker works exceedingly well when it is normalizing abnormal values, it does not show much power when dealing with something that is uniform from the start.  Because of this, if a supernatural power/object is sufficiently powerful or massive enough in size it will not be completely negated right away, as shown by the examples of Dragon's Breath, Innocentius,  Accelerator's Black Wings,and others.  To compensate for this glaring weakness, Touma has realized that he need not negate but simply cast it aside, disrupting it so to speak. It is during the state where he cannot negate it completely that Touma can physically touch or grab the power, disrupting it instead of instantly destroying it. This is exemplified during Touma's fight with Accelerator in Russia, in which he pulled one of Accelerator's black wings to throw him off balance and dodge his attack. That single touch was capable of negating the vector-controlling power of said wing as well

Beyond the Right Hand 

Aleister Crowley has also gained interest in Touma's power and integrated it into his plans, and from his comments to Heaven Canceller it's likely that he arranged the events that led to Touma being sent to Academy City by Kamijou Touya, which resulted in the birth of Kazakiri Hyouka out of fear of the Imagine Breaker. Aleister has monitored Touma's danger level to Academy City and labelled it equivalent to DEFCON 3, and found that Imagine Breaker can affect 97% of his plans. It is unknown what the true extent of Aleister's plans for Imagine Breaker are, but he has stated that his plans are similar to Fiamma's, only in a different format: to change the world by preparing a temple filled with strange power, drawing out the power of the right arm within that temple, and adjusting the thickness of the phase itself with that power. He told Fiamma of the Right that if Fiamma looked at it in a different viewpoint, he should be able to understand the true nature of that power, and if he did, he would have reached his goal before Aleister could.

When Fiamma severed Touma's right arm along with the Imagine Breaker in order to absorb that power into himself, an "invisible thing" gathered on Touma's right shoulder which made all that Fiamma had pale in comparison. Touma unexpectedly crushed that power with an even greater power and then took back the Imagine Breaker. Though the true nature of these powers is unclear, Touma is shown to be able to communicate with the "invisible thing", referring to the power as "you" before refusing to use its power, crushing it and regenerating his lost right arm.

After Fiamma's right arm was severed by Aleister, it was confirmed there is more to Touma's right hand than just "a right hand that can negate supernatural ability". Touma's right hand is a vessel that can be used to house a greater power, and this is the main reason why Aleister and Fiamma seek Touma's right hand, not for Imagine Breaker.

While attempting to stop the Level 6 Shift attempt on Misaka Mikoto, when Eight Dragons emerge from Kamijou Touma's severed right arm, Touma attempted to negate Mikoto's attack, but it was too powerful and his right arm was blown off. Eight dragons, including the same dragon from the fight against Aureolus Izzard, then emerged and devoured the attack, returning Mikoto to normal. His arm reappeared shortly after without any help, to the confusion of Mikoto.

When Touma and Kamisato Kakeru clashed with their respective right hands, Kakeru's World Rejector severed Touma's right arm and sent it to another world. This caused something to emerge and badly injure Kakeru. The entity then disappeared and Touma's right arm regenerated. Kakeru believes that this is due to World Rejector not erasing everything at the same time, but rather working from the outside in. As a result, it erased Imagine Breaker but there was a slight time lag afterwards, allowing the entity within to attack him.  Touma, on the other hand, is less certain. He believes that the entity that could defeat World Rejector cannot be the same as the one that was easily crushed by Magic God Othinus (Magic Gods being easily erased by World Rejector) He thus wonders if there are multiple entities inside him. 

During the events surrounding the Ceremony of Mo Athair, in which Touma was severely injured and had his arm severed multiple times (once by Aleister using the A.A.A.'s chainsaw so healing magic could be used to save his life and then by Coronzon's Secret Call sent through the unguarded A.A.A. in a surprise attack from behind), the lock on the entity lurking behind Imagine Breaker was broken. After the initial explosion, as a result of the accumulated damage and Touma's own regrets, the emanating power took on Touma's identity, taking much of the overall power and Imagine Breaker with it. Until the lost powers were reclaimed, the remaining power left within Touma took the form of a sky-blue right arm, which could unravel and surround him in the form of a dragon.

Verses

A Certain Unknown Imagine Breaker (Main Verse AU)

Originally called A Certain Illusion Killer, this verse takes place primarily in the Raildex Universe, but diverges heavily from Canon after the Magic Gods arc in New Testament. Arcs for this verse are in development. New characters appearing in this are mainly OC’s although Raildex versions of other characters can appear in this as well. Main arcs so far are the Lawain Incursion Arc, Lioness Arc, The Order of Camelot Arc, The New World Order Arc, and the Xindi Collective Arc.

A Certain Distorted Singularity (Fate Verse)

After a series of unexpected events, Touma is dragged into a Singularity in which the Chaleda Security Organization moves in to stop. After resolving the incident, Touma is brought in as a freelancer of sorts to help Chaldea whenever they need his assistance. He gets along fairly well with the Master and most of the staff, however, most servants are cautious around him due to the nature of Imagine Breaker. This vague cautiousness remains even after they have accepted him as a trust worthy ally.

Because of the danger of Touma accidently negating a servant out of existence, he wears a shroud around his right hand which suppresses Imagine Breaker’s affects.

A Certain Song That Destroys Illusions (Symphogear verse)

Following his antics with Academy City’s Number 3 Level 5, Misaka Mikoto, Kamijou Touma is somehow transported to another version of Earth where the moon has a huge creator on its surface and rings. He is caught up in an attack by the Alca-Noise and winds up meeting the wielder of Gungnir, Tachibana Hibiki. Touma is then introduced to S.O.N.G and the other gear wielders and decides to help them in their battles against the Alca-Noise and the forces that controls them —- while also looking for a way to return to his earth.

A Wish That Destroys Illusions (Dragon Ball Verse)

After an experiment to detect other worlds caused by the Kiharas goes awry, Academy City is transported to the Earth in the Dragon Ball Universe.There, Touma must contend with beings far stronger than he has ever faced previously. Eventually, he meets a certain Saiyan who has saved the universe many times who then trains Touma to properly contend with the threats their earth and Academy City now faces.   Touma is not able to reach the level of the Saiyans and is still an amateur as a fighter, however, his imagine breaker gives him an advantage over his enemies which allows him to negate Ki attacks and Ki fields.

[toxicrants]

~~~Witchcraft 101~~~ Part 1

Alongside all the shit that’s happened in the tag, I’ve had a few people come and ask me about resources, traditions, spells and everything in between. 

So I always have a post to reference back to or just link when asked in future, this will be dedicated to answering some of the questions I’ve received in chats etc.

These will be split up into different posts cause otherwise it will be long!

DISCLAIMER: These are the resources I have used and the definition of witchcraft I subscribe to. It does not seek to invalidate any other practitioners irl or on witchblr who have opposing views. I feel I need to state this since there’s a lot of ‘YOU’RE INVALIDATING ME’ going around. 

On with the show...

What is Witchcraft?

There are many different types and paths to follow but the general definition is 

‘the practice of magic’.

But Toxic, that’s so vague.

Ay, it is. Now you have to start splitting hairs about what magic is as well as does it exist? Again, defining a term that most people will have some sort of opinion on. This is the tricky bit on witchblr; the bit people seem to be biting each other’s faces off about. Looking at the broad definition if googled you get:-

1.the power of apparently influencing events by using mysterious or supernatural forces.

That’s the definition attributed more to witchcraft and sorcery than others that lean more towards stage magic like illusions or slight of hand.

This cornerstone of witchcraft - this giant pink elephant in the room - is so often glossed over in many of our books or podcasts. There’s almost an assumption at the door that ‘of course you know what magic is. It’s that stuff that happens. The thing... you know, the thing?’

But Toxic, how can someone write about witchcraft and not actually define magic?

Apparently, very easily. If you look back into some of the older resources dating to the so called ‘witchcraft revival’ you notice a few more hints than modern texts. A good example is from the devil himself Aleister Crowley, who defined magic as being "the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will". This was, of course, in line with his Thelemic theory where ‘Will’ is in reference to a Thelemites true path in life or true cause. Not to be mistaken with the idea that it’s just anything in particular a Thelemite may desire or want.

So, again it can appear quite vague. However, the reoccurring theme seems to be about being able to bring about a change or exerting influence over something or someone. 

Well, you can do that just by getting up and physically doing something. So is just doing SOMETHING magic?

Good question. If magic is defined by ‘just causing a change’ then practically everything is magic. I changed my light bulb. I changed my clothes. Magic. Give me my 4th grade High Apprentice to the Overseer Gods stamp and let’s call it a day.

Obviously, most practitioners don’t go by that definition purely for the fact that what would be the fucking point? If magic were that easy why would anyone need to do anything more than ‘just physically do it’? Need to attract money? Just physically fucking do it. Fill out a job application and hope for the best. You’ve done something. That’s all you can do. The idea that magic is just ‘doing something’ takes away other basic ideas that people have about what’s involved. This definition doesn’t concern itself with anything supernatural and therefore wouldn’t hinge on ideas like spirits, luck, energy, deities or intent. The only thing you can ‘influence’ is probability or likelihood through tangible, physical changes. If I send out x amount of job applications I have a higher likelihood of finding a job than if I didn’t. No crystals or spells needed.

So why is the tag full of pretty crystals and shit?

That’s where people revert to the first definition. That idea that you’re using supernatural or mysterious forces to create change. People who follow this definition go by the idea that you, as a human, are not enough to create some of the larger scale more ambiguous changes to the universe. After all, a word you’ll see a lot on witchblr is ‘attract’ or even ‘repel’.

How do you ‘attract’ money? or love? That would go beyond the physicality of going out and looking for these things and suggest there is some inherent ‘force’ behind them that can be altered in your favour. Whether you believe it to be a deity, fate or just a particular energy. There lies the realm of the supernatural. The scientifically ambiguous idea that you can alter an aspect of real life by using these supernatural entities or ideas. 

That’s where the variation of witchcraft comes in. Not everyone has the same ideas about what these supernatural entities are, what to call them or even how to deal with them. Mainly, you have cultural differences where different deities have popped up overtime. Even the same deities may appear in different places or the job the deity is assigned shifts over a length of time. The important thing to remember is WITCHCRAFT IS NOT A RELIGION. IT IS A PRACTICE.

Whilst calling on deities during rituals is common not all witches do it. Some believe the supernatural forces are spirits, some believe mainly in ancestors whilst others may only believe vaguely in energies like luck or fate. Whatever it is a witch tends to work with, most will prescribe to the idea that magic is a change they have bought about due to their relationship with these supernatural forces. Thus implying that their status as a witch is because of this cultivated relationship and skill that others that either do not believe in magic or have not studied in it wouldn’t have. 

The definition from my path is the change in an aspect of the world that the witch is able to control through the use of their relationship with the dark mother and their ancestors as a fulcrum point. 

Okay, but how do you define a supernatural force?

With great difficulty. Obviously, scientifically speaking there is no hard evidence that these forces do or don’t exist. Like religions there is some factor of ‘pure belief’ when it comes to these entities or forces, which is why there are so many different versions. Then on top of that there are so many different versions on how to deal with those entities or forces depending on how strong and how sentient you think they are. 

What about the placebo effect, got you there!

Fair point. Are you really effecting change or are you convincing yourself that you’re effecting change? As a species humans have a certain tendency to apophenia. In other words, we look for patterns in things even if they’re actually completely unrelated. Give someone a sugar pill telling them it’ll help them loose weight and it might do just that. The psychosomatic power of telling yourself you’re going to do something can be very effective.

Do I consider the placebo effect magic? No. I’m a trained scientist who approaches magic a little more analytically than I should. The placebo effect has scientific roots that have some scientific explanation. Therefore, to me, it’s science not supernatural and therefore not magic. I, personally, emphasise the supernatural part of my own path’s definition so I can feel like I have clearer results. Again, venturing back to the ‘is everything magic because if so nothing is magic’ scenario. If magic had no supernatural basis and was completely rooted in known, evidence based science I’d call it just that, ‘science’. I wouldn’t say ‘witch’, I’d say ‘scientist’.

When you mix the two together you blur your own results. If you call the placebo effect magic you tack onto your practice the fact that it’s a false positive.You may feel like something’s happened but nothing has. You’ve not actually changed anything about the physical world, you may not have even changed anything beyond your own personal point of view. That veers into the territory of well being, mental health and personal problems. Those again are things with their basis in science and health sciences specifically. 

However, some people may disagree with me. It depends on the Witch you talk to.

Next post we’ll look at the various ways people may cultivate their relationship with the supernatural entity they deal with depending on path.

[the-real-viva-la-snowbaz]

Feelings

Chapter 1: Tension

A/N: Everyone is genderswapped in this Carry On AU: because the world needs more fem!snowbaz. Mild smut below the cut ~

There she was, sitting across the classroom. Looking like the fucking sun.

Sophie Snow.

She looked bored, half asleep. Bronze curls bobbed as she nodded her head drowsily. Drooping lashes eclipsed the blue of her eyes. Her school jumper slid haphazardly across her shoulders.

Crowley. I wonder what she’d look like with that shirt off?

Intrusive though. Intrusive gay thought. Out. Out. Get out.

Basil Pitch flipped her hair to the other side of her face to shield it from the person sitting on other side of the room. She was vaguely aware of the Minotaur talking in monotone, occasionally nailing the kids in the front row with spit. Gliding her pencil absently across her notebook, she tried to focus on the columns of notes marching down the page.

She couldn’t.

When the period finally ended, Baz swept up her books and made a dramatic exit. Bumping past a certain obnoxious blonde in the doorway sent a shiver up her spine. Her confident, even stride nearly faltered. Scowling, she stood straighter and turned up her nose.

My life is academia, familial obligations, and a war on Sophie Snow. I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time to fall in love.

“Hey, Baz!” Dana ran up to her and jogged her elbow, causing her textbooks to slide dangerously.

Baz gasped and caught them before they fell over entirely. “Don’t do that, you idiot. These are four hundred years old, at least. I shan’t allow them to be destroyed by your foolery.”

“Sod off.” Dana rolled her eyes. “Nothing a spell can’t fix, neh?”

“Can’t you leave me alone?”

“Nope.”

They walked across the lawn, shoes squelching in the fresh morning mud. Mummer’s tower rose like a beckoning finger above the newer, flat-roofed buildings huddled around it. The sun peeked out from behind the merciful blanket of cloud covering the sky, and Baz flinched.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” Baz ignored the burning sensation in her skin and focused on each step she took, and the fact that every second brought her closer to the indoors, and the darkness.

Dana left after walking her to her room at the top floor (“I need to hear about the game, Baz! And possibly steal your Poli Sci notes off you from last week.”). Thank the gods, Snow wasn’t back yet. She was probably off somewhere with Bunce. Or at a meeting with the Mage.

The curtains were fluttering, and the window was open. Fuck. Baz ran over and  slammed it shut, heaving the old glass pane down with a grunt. It creaked loudly, but finally surrendered. The curtains drooped and blocked out the sun.

Baz plunked her books down on her desk with a sigh. Sitting down and opening her laptop, she started to type up her notes from her last class. It was horribly mechanical, so her mind began to wander--as usual.

She wondered what Sophie was up to.

The Mage was probably planning another offensive-- Fyonn had taken her aside the last time she was visiting at home to warn her.

“The Old Families need you to keep an eye on that Snow girl,” he’d said. He lit a fag and let the smoke curl around his face as he stared Baz down. “The usurper is gathering strength. She plans to put her Chosen One to good use--more than likely to erase all our magickal heritage and forcibly drag us into his grand new world. Well, we’ve got to show her that the Pitches, at least, will have none of it.”

The door to their room slammed open. Baz closed her eyes slowly and let out an even sigh. A long, annoyed exhale.

“Snow. You’re not twelve. When will you learn to enter a room discreetly?”

She turned her head to gaze disdainfully at her roommate. Snow was leaning against the doorframe, panting, and scowling.

“Did you just run up the entire flight of stairs? But why on earth would you ever put in effort? I bet you have mint Aero bars stashed away somewhere in here, and you just couldn’t wait to have at them.” Have at me. Please.

Snow’s face scrunched up in the most adorable pout I’ve ever seen. She huffed and tried to spit back something in response, but she couldn’t force the words out. Typical.

“Fuck you, Baz.” The Pitch heir knew she’d won. Sophie chewed her fingernail and glared at her for a mesmerizing second before stomping off to the bathroom and banging the door shut behind her.

Ordinary blue eyes. Bouncing bronze curls that flew around her face and refused to stay neat, no matter how Snow fussed or Bunce spelled. Flushed, smooth skin. Beautiful hips.

Aleister Crowley.

Baz grunted and pulled a book from the stack next to her. As she cracked it open, the odor of must and age floated up into her face. Oh, the lengths to which one must go for the sake of a grade. She coughed once and waved her hand to disperse the dust swirling around her.

Chapter 3: Syntax and Spellcraft of the early 12th Century…

Soon Baz had forced her brain into a studious, methodological beat, taking copious notes and putting together index cards in alphabetical order. This was her element--this was why she was at the top of their class. When Baz was studying, she never felt like a failure. She didn’t have to think about Snow or the war or the Old Families. All that existed for her was the text and her assignment, and the only goal in sight was mastery. Yes, Baz Pitch would keep her place at the top, despite simmering politics and her infuriating roommate.

She was just turning to Chapter 4 when a noise from the bathroom made her look up from the page and listen.

“Merlin!” a choked whisper, barely audible through the closed door. Sophie whimpered. Baz heard another nondescript thumping noise.

Looking across the room at the mirror hanging on one wall, Baz took the opportunity to practice her patented Arrogantly Irritated Look, complete with a signature eyebrow raise. What the hell was Snow even doing?

Wait.

No. Oh… Crowley.

All the blood that could be spared rose to Baz’s face as the realization sunk in. Crowley, fucking Crowley. Stevie Nicks and Gracie Slick.

Another moan--louder this time--confirmed Baz’s suspicions.

Sophie bloody Snow was… getting off just ten yards away, behind a closed door. She probably thought Baz couldn’t hear her; but she’d forgotten to factor in her roommate’s enhanced vampire senses.

Baz tried--in vain--not to imagine the scene on the other side of the bathroom door. Everything about Sophie Snow was a scene. Her magic was explosive. She had no sense of discretion or subtlety. She was the lead actress in the catastrophe that was the world of mages. As far as Baz was concerned, she was an angel sent from heaven… And fuck, to think of the unholy, unholy things she was probably doing at this very moment.

The moaning spiked, drawing a gasp from Baz. Her attention entirely diverted from her books, she dumbly blinked at the bathroom door. X-ray vision--what she wouldn’t give…

Baz, without thinking, cupped her breast in one hand and stretched her head as far back as she could manage, closing her eyes and drowning in the noise. A tiny sigh parted her lips.

“Snow…” she whispered, nearly inaudible even to herself. Baz’ lips worried the empty air. “Snow, fuck…”

She squirmed a little in her chair, completely dead to everything else but her thoughts of Sophie, mixed with the beautiful sounds echoing from the bathroom.

Baz was dancing on clouds--she was practically high. And when Sophie finally peaked with an ill-repressed shriek, Baz was dizzy. Dead gone.

When Sophie emerged with a red face and tangled curls, Baz sat up and quickly leaned back over her homework. Trying to pretend that she hadn’t just heard her roommate/arch-nemesis cum, and especially pretending that she hadn’t liked it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Baz saw Sophie give her a once-over, like she was vaguely suspicious that she might have heard. What an idiot. After a few seconds of complete silence from Baz, Sophie shrugged and walked over to her own desk. Good. Let it stay that way--keep that distance, Snow. Then maybe the day I kill you won’t be quite as exquisitely painful.

*******

We don’t speak about the Incident, Snow and I. She’s under the impression that she got away with stealth-wanking, and I’m absolutely not going to let on that I know better.

Coach Marci has upped our practice hours, so I’m not in my (our) room as frequently-- thank Crowley. I couldn’t handle the dead minutes just sitting across from Snow, trying not to think about what happened last week.

I come back late now. I’m barely getting any homework done, and I’m always tired from football and from hunting. I feel myself spiraling into a queer sort of insanity… an inexplicable, sucking void of distance and indifference. Dana and Nia noticed within a few days--good girls, those two--but were distinctly unhelpful.

“You alright, Baz?” Nia said one afternoon during lunch.

I rubbed my temples. “Other than a raging headache, I’m just fine.”

“That’s all tosh, and you know it,” Dana piped up. She took another sandwich from the tray between us. “There’s obviously something the matter. You usually have the your Potions assignments done at least a week before they’re due. And when I asked for help on mine, you said you hadn’t finished.”

“I haven’t.” I growled.

“Something’s up. Is it the Families? Or Snow?”

“Shut up, Daniella.” I hissed, wincing at how close to the truth she had come.

Oh, how close. And oh, how far.

Every time I think about her--the way she winds her fingers through her glorious bronze curls when she’s deep in thought, how she laughs when Penrose tells a particularly sordid joke, the noises she made behind the bathroom door, all of it--every memory twists the knife deeper.

There’ll be that final battle. We’ll have to kill each other. (No.) (I couldn’t kill her.) (Not ever.) Or she’d kill me.

That’s how it’ll end: death at the hands of the only girl I’ll ever love. Of course. How else?

Every day I fall harder. And every day, it drives me closer to the end.

[liberalcom-blog]

The Fraternitas Saturni: History, Doctrine, and Rituals of the Magical Order of the Brotherhood of Saturn

https://liber-al.com/?p=28356&wpwautoposter=1567247002 Stephen E. Flowers Inner Traditions Bear and Company, USA, 2018. Paperback. Revised and Expanded edition. 224 pages. Brand New. The most influential magical group in Germany during the 20th century, the Fraternitas Saturni or Brotherhood of Saturn, is still the most active and important magical society in Germany today. But from its formal beginnings in 1926 in Weimar Berlin until around 1970 it was almost totally secret. Most of what is known about the Order in the English-speaking world is fragmentary and focuses exclusively on the sensational sex-magic practices and Luciferian tendencies of this magical lodge. Presenting the most in-depth work in English on the Fraternitas Saturni, Stephen Flowers examines the history of the Order from the mid-1920s to the late 1960s when the Order was fundamentally reformed. He details their path of initiation, secret doctrines, ritual practices and magical formulae and offers biographies of the Order’s most prominent members, including founder Gregor A. Gregorius, Karl Spiesberger (Frater Eratus), Albin Grau (Master Pacitius) and Franz Saettler (Dr. Musallam). Exploring the Brotherhood’s guiding principles, he shows that at the heart of Saturnian ideology is the idea of Saturn-Gnosis: the interplay of opposing forces in the universe leading to the realisation of the individual self as a god-like entity. He examines the Order’s teachings on cosmology, the Kabbalah, the Saturnian Sacraments, electrical magic, sexo-cosmology, sex-magic rites and sexual mysticism – the Yoga of the Dark Light – and transcribes many of their actual rituals and practices, including the highly controversial Gradus Pentalphae, in such detail that readers will be able to undertake their own experiential work. Explaining the meanings of all 33 grades of the Order, the author, also, looks at the infamous Freemasonic Order of the Golden Centurium, the cult of Adonism, the links between Thelema and the Fraternitas Saturni and the rare teachings of Master Pacitius (Albin Grau), the visual genius behind the film Nosferatu. He, also, includes rare reports by Aleister Crowley concerning his interaction with some of the forerunners to the Order and letters from the Order’s founder, Gregor A. Gregorius, to the “Great Beast.” · Explores the history of the Order from its founding the late 1960s · Transcribes many rituals and practices in such detail that readers will be able to undertake their own experiential work · Examines the Order’s teachings on cosmology, the Kabbalah, the Saturnian Sacraments, electrical magic and sexual mysticism – the Yoga of the Dark Light · Includes biographies of prominent members, including founder Gregor A. Gregorius, Karl Spiesberger (Frater Eratus) and Albin Grau (Master Pacitius) “The Western esoteric tradition, from which this book’s subject emerges, has now gained acceptance as a branch of the Western canon worthy of scholarly inquiry and as a discipline deserving of its seat in the academy. Flowers casts light on one of the 20th century’s most secretive, intriguing (and misunderstood) occult orders, the Fraternitas Saturni. This is a fascinating and highly readable study of the Order’s tantric, astrosophical, and Nietzchean doctrines; their Gnostic sexual cosmologies and practices; their quasi-masonic structure; the Order’s enigmatic and innovative figures such as FS Grand Master Gregor A. Gregorius; and the influence of Aleister Crowley, Thelema, and the Ordo Templi Orientis (O.T.O.) on the Brotherhood.” (Stephen J. King (Shiva X°), Grand Master, Ordo Templi Orientis) “Germany’s contribution to the Western magical tradition reaches back, in modern form, to the medieval Grail myths, the founding of the original Rosicrucian Order and its many later derivatives, the quasi-masonic operations of the Bavarian Illuminati, Germany’s legendary influence on the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, and, of course, its role in the founding and early development of the Ordo Templi Orientis. The Fraternitas Saturni Order is heir to all of these, and Stephen Flowers, Ph.D., has devoted decades to expanding and deepening the research that led to his first groundbreaking book on the Order. This fourth revised and enlarged edition may at last represent the completion of that herculean task as it more deeply explores and communicates the Order’s mysteries to a yet wider audience. Critically, Flowers elucidates at length on the primary characteristic that makes the Fraternitas Saturni so unique–its dual emphasis on social lodge work and group ritual, balanced by its curriculum of disciplined individual practices that must be accomplished in silence by each member.” (James Wasserman, author of The Mystery Traditions) “Stephen Flowers lets the cat out of the bag on the subject of the Fraternitas Saturni and takes us into the richly Faustian world of Germanic occultism from which the order emerged, created out of a heady brew of Freemasonry, astrology, Golden Dawn magic, Crowley’s Thelema, and much more. With its detailed descriptions of the order’s rituals and practices, this book is an eye-opener with a vengeance.” (Christopher McIntosh, Ph.D., author of Eliphas Lévi and the French Occult Revival) Stephen E. Flowers, Ph.D., received his doctorate in Germanic languages and medieval studies from the University of Texas at Austin and studied the history of occultism at the University of Göttingen, Germany. The author of more than 24 books, including Lords of the Left-Hand Path and Original Magic, he lives near Smithville, Texas.

[otherpeoplesheartachept-2]

Dreams

Carry On Countdown Day 4

Snowbaz

Length: 1641 words

Genre: no clue

AN: I JUST finished writing the last part of this but I had to finish it before family gets home so apologies if the end is poorly edited or feels rushed.

-

BAZ

Curse every damn insufferable thought I’ve had about life being better without Snow. He’s not even technically gone, just avoiding me. I can’t recall the last time he looked me in the eyes. 

He won’t speak to me, fight me, punch me when I try my best to rile him up. It’s like Snow has become a ghost, or I have. How fitting, I enter into a worse state of undead. It’s torture. I almost miss the pain of his knuckles on my jaw. I crave any attention he’ll give me but no matter what I try, he’s silent. I can’t think of a time he’s been so tortuously passive. Snow’s always so reactive and angry and big. I cannot think what has happened to cause this. 

-Two Weeks Earlier-

SIMON

Agatha dumped me and I can’t say anyone was too surprised. I’m a terrible boyfriend. Plus, I know she’s been eyeing Baz for months. I caught the two of them sneaking off one evening after supper so I followed, I had to. 

I was met with the image of my enemy and ex girlfriend holding hands. They were behind the dining hall. Warm light spilled across them, but I made sure to stay in the shadows. I watched them from around the corner of the building. 

“Wellbelove,” Baz spoke, firm but kinder than I’d ever heard his voice. His back was to me. I wonder if his face looks kind too. “We all know you belong with Snow.” Confusion clouds my mind. He’s been after her for years! Why is he turning her down now?! I lean in to the rough stone corner to try and hear them better. 

“How can you know where I belong!?” She says exasperated. She pulls her hands from him and balls them by her sides.

“Agatha,” My face goes hot, how dare he speak so soft to her, and use her first name. “For many reasons, we can never be together.”

Her hand presses in to his cheek. Her eyes look teary. Anger roils in my stomach. Jealousy lights my insides. How dare he, no how dare she, no-

My thoughts are a mess as she leans closer to Baz. She kisses his cheek. Baz walks past her and leaves around the opposite corner that I’m standing. Aggie just stands there. I think I’m sick to my stomach. Why?? 

“For many reasons, we can never be together.” a hand reaches to his cheek. I’m so sad. I can feel a tear running down my cheek. It’s cold and dark and suddenly I’m alone in the Wavering Woods. I’m searching for something, or someone, but who? 

In a clearing I see them again. But this time, I’m standing where Baz should be. Agatha tells me I belong with Baz. She walks away. I see myself reaching for her wrist but then I’m holding someone's arm. They say, “We can never be together” again. We are both sad about it. My heart aches so strongly. I kiss them. I think we are floating. A warm yellow light around us morphs to moon gray. We are stars. He runs a hand through my hair. I respond by pushing a hand into the inky black surrounding his head. It’s Baz. I’m kissing Baz. 

I wake up to our bedroom door slamming. Fuck.

It must be past midnight and Baz just came to bed (probably from the catacombs). My heart is racing. I try to steady my breathing. I try to ignore him but I think he’s drunk and he’s tossing in his bed now, and I just had a dream about kissing Baz. My enemy. A vampire. I can feel my magic bubbling up and I worry I’ll go off if I don’t calm down, so I race to the bathroom.

The light burns my eyes but at least I feel like I can breath. The cool tile helps my magic settle. What the bloody hell was that dream?

I sit on the floor for hours trying to process everything. Agatha leaving me, Baz rejecting her, the dream. My mind keeps coming back to the feeling of warmth when I dreamt I was kissing Baz. It felt like we belonged there. 

But that’s fine right? Dreams are weird all the time, they don’t mean anything. I should just go back to bed and stop thinking about it. It’s almost sunrise. But that paired with my feelings about last evening… I don’t think I was mad at Agatha. I mean, I don’t want her to be with Baz. I think-

I’m struck with a realization. A very terrifying truth crosses my mind. This cannot be. This cannot be. The longer I sit with it the more it makes sense. My following him, the constant fear of plotting, obsessively talking about him. I like Baz. I, love Baz. As soon as I fully form that thought he bangs on the door.

“Snow!” Hurry up in there!” I scramble to my feet. This is going to be hell. 

-The Present-

BAZ

I’ve had enough. Two weeks of avoidance and I can’t stand it anymore. I’ve decided to take things into my own hands. On a rare moment when we’re both in the room I confront him. Snow walks through the door and I pin him to the wall. 

“Anathema.” He squeaks before I ask,

“Why are you avoiding me.”

“I-it’s you…”

“Spit it out, Snow”

He hesitates like he’s trying to come up with a lie but he blurts, “I had a dream where we kissed and I- liked it!” We both stare in shock. For a shaky moment I believe him. You can’t just say stuff like that.

“Oh sod off.” I push away from him and quickly school my face into one of indifference.

“Bu-”

“I don’t know what game this is but I won’t stand for lies, Snow.”

“I’m- Baz, it’s, look. I don’t want this! Why would I make that up? You probably think I’m gross now. Which is fine. You already hate me but I can’t be around you. Okay?”

“Because you had a wet dream about me?” I cross my arms. Simon Snow will be the death of me. He blushes furiously. 

“It. Was not. A. Wet. Dream.” He takes a deep breath in. “But yes. Now why don’t you save us all some time and get out your best insults about this now.” I stare at him trying to figure out what’s happening. My mind is running a thousand miles a minute. Snow, had a romantic dream about me. And he admitted it! And he sounded a bit like me with that last line. It hurts that he expects me to laugh at him for this, but given our history I can’t blame him. Can I tell him I like him too? Can I kiss him? I don’t think so. I can’t insult him though. I’m an asshole but I won’t pretend to be homophobic. Do I tell him I’m gay?? That’s probably too much.

“C’mon Baz, can’t think of any good ones?”

“Pardon?” He smirks a little and I’m totally lost on what about this is smirk worthy.

“Well right about now you should be making fun of me. Right?” I think I’ve entered an alternate reality. Snow doesn’t say things like this. I don’t get confessions from my enemy/crush in real life.

“Do you want me to?” I don’t want to. I don’t know why I asked that.

His face drops again. “No.” There’s silence. Do we drop this whole bizarre interaction and move on now? I don’t want it to be over.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Fuck. I was not supposed to say that. I didn’t even manage a passably sarcastic tone. He blushes even stronger. Aleister Crowley, he’s going to tell me this was all a prank and then run his sword through me. Damn the Anathema. 

He looks at me with a question then determination. This is how I die. 

Snow fills the small spaces between us and before I can process what’s happening he’s kissing me. Simon Snow is kissing me. 

SIMON

I’ve most definitely made a giant mistake. Why would he ask if I wanted to kiss him seriously? It was a joke, he didn’t mean it but my body acted before my brain. (I can hear Baz’s voice scoff “Typical” in my head).

But then he’s kissing me back. Basilton Pitch is kissing me back. It’s awkward at first, then I feel him let himself relax into it. His hand on my cheek is cool yet comforting. It’s everything I never thought I wanted. That’s not true.

I’ve wanted to run my hands through his hair to see how it feels. It’s silky. I’ve wanted to hold his hand, so I reach for it, his palm is rough. His lips are so soft. I know mine are chapped. I don’t know why Baz is letting me kiss him, but I’ll make the most of it. 

BAZ

Half my brain is overrun with pleasure and the other half is frantically categorizing and memorizing every single detail of this encounter. I don’t know why Snow is kissing me, but I’ll never let this moment leave my mind. 

It feels like we’re tangled in each other for hours, but when he pulls away it’s far too soon. 

“Baz,” He sounds out of breath. I don’t trust my voice, so I simply nod. “I like you, but, is this what you really want?”

I nod. “I’ve dreamt of this too, Simon.” I say before reaching towards his face again. He goes back to kissing me and starts doing a glorious thing with his chin. I don’t know what this is, or how long it will last, but right now I’m so happy I can’t ask.

[otherpeoplesheartachept-2]

Pets

(Carry On Countdown Day 15)

(SnowBaz)

Length: 1,008 words

Genre: fluff

Trigger Warnings: None

-

BAZ

Yes I’m weak, but anyone on this planet who could refuse Simon Snow a dog when he’s smothering them with kisses and pleading with puppy eyes is more dead inside than I am (and I’m actually dead).

After weeks of ‘subtle’ hints from Snow and eventually him unashamedly begging me for a dog, I gave in.

I’m not against dogs by any means, I’m just not particularly found of them. I was also worried I might drain the poor thing if I got too thirsty but Snow, in his usually harsh yet caring way, argued that I wouldn’t because I am not a monster and I can control myself. I’d be more annoyed at him if it didn’t send my heart into a flurry every time he defended me.

Today we agreed we’d go to an animal shelter and check out the pets. Snow, shocked when I finally agreed, still didn’t have an idea of what kind of dog he wanted. I don’t particularly care as long as it’s easy to manage.

When Snow sees the first puppy, all my objections and doubts disappear. His face actually shines, I swear he is the fucking sun. He smiles wide and his eyes are filled with happiness. Snow actually squeals when the small chihuahua licked him. He pets the girl until he gets distracted by another dog. This one a chocolate lab puppy.

He repeats his previous response of squealing and grinning, I think he actually jumps with excitement this time. Aleister Crowley, I hope I can survive this day.

“Who’s a good little pup? Huh? Huh? That’s right! It’s you! You are so cute. Baz! Can we get this one?” Simon looks up at me. The only way I can refuse him is by reminding myself if we stay I’ll get to see more of these glorious interactions.

“Shouldn’t we look at more before we make a final decision?” He stands, reluctantly seeing my reasoning.

“Yeah.” Snow takes my hand.

We continue looking and petting the dogs. First a beagle, then a bulldog pup, an old German shepherd. Upon seeing a dachshund Snow laughed and gestured at me.

“They look like you Baz!” I role my eyes and raise a brow.

“I do not look li-”

“See, they even have little brown eyebrows!” He smiles, proud of himself for some reason. I hold back a smile by smirking.

“Well if I look like a dachshund then you look like...” I search for a dog, “That dog there, the golden retriever.” It was chewing on a blanket and it’s fur was quite tousled. Snow, seeing the dog exclaimed,

“Aw they’re so cute! Maybe we should get this one?” Snow goes to pet the animal I’d just compared him to. I step closer and the retriever licks my hand. “She likes you.” Snow says as I scratch behind her ears. “Her name is Lucy.” He informs me.

“Hi Lucy.” I continue to pet her as Snow discovers more dogs to ogle over. I let myself wander around for a bit.

SIMON

“Baz. Baz?” I scan the room. He isn’t here. I guess I was too busy playing tug-a-war with Lucy to notice he’d gone. But where did he go?

I walk out of the room and start heading to the car until I see a figure in the room where they keep cats. Unsure if it’s Baz I walk in quietly. I stand in the doorway, and when I see what’s happening my heart melts.

Baz is sat criss cross on the floor, in his expensive black suit. He’s holding a tiny gray cat in his arms. His voice is barely a whisper as he speaks nothings, while petting the kitten. The baby cat has the cutest expression on it’s face, as does my boyfriend. I can tell the cat’s purring. Baz is so enraptured with the little ball of fur I think he’s in his own universe.

Reluctant to spoil this pure moment I kneel in front of Baz.

“We should get this one.” He startles a bit, causing the kitten to reveal it’s beautiful emerald eyes. Baz tries to regain his composure but a small smile stays on his face. He seems a little hurt when he says.

“No I promised you a dog, have you decided on one yet?”

“Well, yeah, I really like Lucy, the golden retriever. but this cat is so cute! And you obviously love it, we should get them instead.” He seems touched but I can tell he’s going to argue with me. Before Baz can get anything out though, and employee walks in.

“Wow. You got Leaf to cuddle up with you? That’s pretty impressive, he likes being alone usually.” and they went about their task.

“Baz. His name is Leaf. Leaf! That’s so adorable!” I gasp, realizing somethings, “It’s perfect!”

“Wha-”

“I know someone else who’s a leaf.” I wiggle my eyebrows. Baz makes a big showy eye roll. He knows what’s coming. “Basil? Basil leaves? Leaf? Eh?” I know he’s tired of my name puns but it’s so funny to see him react.

“You are terrible,” he states matter-of-factly, “and w-”

“We have to get this cat. You may be the only person he will love! And you match!” I fake dramatics to convince him.

“No, Snow, you’re the one who wanted a pet, so we’re getting Lucy.” A brilliant idea strikes me.

“We can get both!”

“No we cannot.” He’s trying to be stern and responsible. “Besides it’s a well know fact most dogs and cats don’t get along.”

“Actually,” the employee from before buts in, “If you’re talking about Lucy, she’s very good with small children and other animals.”

“Thank you!” I beam at Baz. “We have to get both.” He looks torn. I can tell he wants to argue but he knows I’ll win.

“Fine, have it your way Snow, we’ll get both pets.” I give him a quick peck and stand up. Lucy and Leaf are going to be great additions to our family of two.

-

I won’t bore you with a paragraph of my opinions this time. Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it. Please let me know how I could improve.

[liberalcom-blog]

The Fraternitas Saturni: History, Doctrine, and Rituals of the Magical Order of the Brotherhood of Saturn

https://liber-al.com/?p=28356&wpwautoposter=1566134572 Stephen E. Flowers Inner Traditions Bear and Company, USA, 2018. Paperback. Revised and Expanded edition. 224 pages. Brand New. The most influential magical group in Germany during the 20th century, the Fraternitas Saturni or Brotherhood of Saturn, is still the most active and important magical society in Germany today. But from its formal beginnings in 1926 in Weimar Berlin until around 1970 it was almost totally secret. Most of what is known about the Order in the English-speaking world is fragmentary and focuses exclusively on the sensational sex-magic practices and Luciferian tendencies of this magical lodge. Presenting the most in-depth work in English on the Fraternitas Saturni, Stephen Flowers examines the history of the Order from the mid-1920s to the late 1960s when the Order was fundamentally reformed. He details their path of initiation, secret doctrines, ritual practices and magical formulae and offers biographies of the Order’s most prominent members, including founder Gregor A. Gregorius, Karl Spiesberger (Frater Eratus), Albin Grau (Master Pacitius) and Franz Saettler (Dr. Musallam). Exploring the Brotherhood’s guiding principles, he shows that at the heart of Saturnian ideology is the idea of Saturn-Gnosis: the interplay of opposing forces in the universe leading to the realisation of the individual self as a god-like entity. He examines the Order’s teachings on cosmology, the Kabbalah, the Saturnian Sacraments, electrical magic, sexo-cosmology, sex-magic rites and sexual mysticism – the Yoga of the Dark Light – and transcribes many of their actual rituals and practices, including the highly controversial Gradus Pentalphae, in such detail that readers will be able to undertake their own experiential work. Explaining the meanings of all 33 grades of the Order, the author, also, looks at the infamous Freemasonic Order of the Golden Centurium, the cult of Adonism, the links between Thelema and the Fraternitas Saturni and the rare teachings of Master Pacitius (Albin Grau), the visual genius behind the film Nosferatu. He, also, includes rare reports by Aleister Crowley concerning his interaction with some of the forerunners to the Order and letters from the Order’s founder, Gregor A. Gregorius, to the “Great Beast.” · Explores the history of the Order from its founding the late 1960s · Transcribes many rituals and practices in such detail that readers will be able to undertake their own experiential work · Examines the Order’s teachings on cosmology, the Kabbalah, the Saturnian Sacraments, electrical magic and sexual mysticism – the Yoga of the Dark Light · Includes biographies of prominent members, including founder Gregor A. Gregorius, Karl Spiesberger (Frater Eratus) and Albin Grau (Master Pacitius) “The Western esoteric tradition, from which this book’s subject emerges, has now gained acceptance as a branch of the Western canon worthy of scholarly inquiry and as a discipline deserving of its seat in the academy. Flowers casts light on one of the 20th century’s most secretive, intriguing (and misunderstood) occult orders, the Fraternitas Saturni. This is a fascinating and highly readable study of the Order’s tantric, astrosophical, and Nietzchean doctrines; their Gnostic sexual cosmologies and practices; their quasi-masonic structure; the Order’s enigmatic and innovative figures such as FS Grand Master Gregor A. Gregorius; and the influence of Aleister Crowley, Thelema, and the Ordo Templi Orientis (O.T.O.) on the Brotherhood.” (Stephen J. King (Shiva X°), Grand Master, Ordo Templi Orientis) “Germany’s contribution to the Western magical tradition reaches back, in modern form, to the medieval Grail myths, the founding of the original Rosicrucian Order and its many later derivatives, the quasi-masonic operations of the Bavarian Illuminati, Germany’s legendary influence on the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, and, of course, its role in the founding and early development of the Ordo Templi Orientis. The Fraternitas Saturni Order is heir to all of these, and Stephen Flowers, Ph.D., has devoted decades to expanding and deepening the research that led to his first groundbreaking book on the Order. This fourth revised and enlarged edition may at last represent the completion of that herculean task as it more deeply explores and communicates the Order’s mysteries to a yet wider audience. Critically, Flowers elucidates at length on the primary characteristic that makes the Fraternitas Saturni so unique–its dual emphasis on social lodge work and group ritual, balanced by its curriculum of disciplined individual practices that must be accomplished in silence by each member.” (James Wasserman, author of The Mystery Traditions) “Stephen Flowers lets the cat out of the bag on the subject of the Fraternitas Saturni and takes us into the richly Faustian world of Germanic occultism from which the order emerged, created out of a heady brew of Freemasonry, astrology, Golden Dawn magic, Crowley’s Thelema, and much more. With its detailed descriptions of the order’s rituals and practices, this book is an eye-opener with a vengeance.” (Christopher McIntosh, Ph.D., author of Eliphas Lévi and the French Occult Revival) Stephen E. Flowers, Ph.D., received his doctorate in Germanic languages and medieval studies from the University of Texas at Austin and studied the history of occultism at the University of Göttingen, Germany. The author of more than 24 books, including Lords of the Left-Hand Path and Original Magic, he lives near Smithville, Texas.