#incense heritage

[shreejiagarbattiworks]

Explore the fascinating journey of incense in India, from its roots in ancient rituals to its modern-day significance. Indian incense sticks, crafted with sacred herbs like sandalwood and ashtagandha, have been cherished for their spiritual, medicinal, and aesthetic benefits. The evolution from traditional dhoop to handcrafted agarbatti reflects the ingenuity of Indian artisans. Today, incense continues to play a vital role in meditation, puja ceremonies, and creating serene ambiences worldwide. Discover how this fragrant tradition preserves cultural heritage while connecting generations across India and beyond.

[holygroundgone]

bed sharing is too stimulating, going on and on about his youthful high temperature and his scent, his unique scent, his male hormones

[shikoku-news]

📍 Kongofukuji (金剛福寺) – The 38th Temple of the Shikoku Pilgrimage

At the very edge of Japan’s Shikoku Island, where the Ashizuri Peninsula meets the vast Pacific Ocean, stands Kongofukuji (金剛福寺) – the 38th temple of the legendary Shikoku 88 Temple Pilgrimage. This sacred site has welcomed pilgrims, monks, and even samurai clans like the Minamoto, Chosokabe, and Yamanouchi for centuries. 🌊🏯✨

🏯 A Temple at the End of the World

If you look at a map, the Ashizuri Peninsula juts out from Shikoku’s southwest corner, marking the island’s southernmost point. Reaching Kongofukuji is an experience in itself—it's an 85 km (53 miles) trek from the previous temple, Iwamotoji (岩本寺), making it the longest stretch between two temples in the entire pilgrimage. For those walking, it takes an average of 30 hours to reach.

📍 Google Maps Location: https://www.google.com/maps/dir//32.7259884,133.0185885

⛩️ The Temple Grounds

Kongofukuji is unlike any other temple on the pilgrimage. With stunning architecture, a serene pond, and massive colorful stones, the temple blends into the rugged beauty of Ashizuri Cape. The buildings, some resembling driftwood in their deep, weathered colors, carry the scent of ocean spray and burning incense. 🕯️🌲

📸 Featured Shots:

🔹 Traditional Wooden Gate & Temple Buildings – Each structure at Kongofukuji has a distinct rustic yet elegant aesthetic. 🔹 Rock Gardens & Sacred Grounds – Pilgrims walk among towering stones, symbolizing spiritual strength and endurance. 🔹 The Great Pond Reflection – The pond mirrors the temple’s beauty, creating a peaceful atmosphere. 🔹 Pilgrim in White – A modern-day henro (pilgrim) on their sacred journey. 🔹 The Towering White Pagoda – A striking contrast against the deep green of Ashizuri’s wild forests.

🏆 A Temple Founded by Kukai (Kobo Daishi)

In 822 AD, Emperor Saga ordered Kukai (空海)—the founder of Shingon Buddhism and the Shikoku Pilgrimage itself—to establish Kongofukuji. The deity of worship here is the thousand-handed Senju Kannon Bosatsu (千手観音菩薩), a symbol of compassion and mercy.

✨ Why Visit Kongofukuji?

✅ Spiritual Pilgrimage – One of the most important stops on the Shikoku Henro route. ✅ Stunning Scenery – Ocean views, pine-covered hills, and unique temple structures. ✅ Deep History – A temple that has stood the test of time, serving aristocrats, samurai, and monks alike. ✅ Hidden Gem – Unlike tourist-heavy Kyoto, Kongofukuji offers tranquility and an authentic cultural experience.

🔗 Find Out More & Follow My Journey:

🌏 Full Image Gallery & Stock Photos: https://linktr.ee/shikoku4k 📷 Instagram (Live Updates): https://www.instagram.com/shikoku_4k 🛸 Drone Photography & 4K Videos: https://www.youtube.com/@shikoku4k 🖼️ Stock Images & Prints Available: Wirestock → https://wirestock.io/shikoku.4k.&.drone.scapes Adobe Stock → https://stock.adobe.com/contributor/212093532/Shikoku4K Shutterstock → https://www.shutterstock.com/g/Shikoku+4K Alamy → https://www.alamy.com/portfolio/shikoku4k Pond5 → https://www.pond5.com/artist/Shikoku4K?ref=Shikoku4K

🙏 Support My Work & Future Pilgrimage Photography: 💙 Buy Me a Coffee: https://buymeacoffee.com/shikoku4k

🌿 About Me:

I’m a husband, father, teacher, drone pilot, and digital creative based in Japan. My passion is capturing Shikoku’s natural beauty and rich cultural history through photography, drone cinematography, and immersive storytelling. 🎥✨

If you love Japanese history, Buddhist temples, and breathtaking aerial views, follow me for exclusive content from all across Japan! 🚀🇯🇵

[shikokunature]

📍 Kongofukuji (金剛福寺) – The 38th Temple of the Shikoku Pilgrimage

At the very edge of Japan’s Shikoku Island, where the Ashizuri Peninsula meets the vast Pacific Ocean, stands Kongofukuji (金剛福寺) – the 38th temple of the legendary Shikoku 88 Temple Pilgrimage. This sacred site has welcomed pilgrims, monks, and even samurai clans like the Minamoto, Chosokabe, and Yamanouchi for centuries. 🌊🏯✨

🏯 A Temple at the End of the World

If you look at a map, the Ashizuri Peninsula juts out from Shikoku’s southwest corner, marking the island’s southernmost point. Reaching Kongofukuji is an experience in itself—it's an 85 km (53 miles) trek from the previous temple, Iwamotoji (岩本寺), making it the longest stretch between two temples in the entire pilgrimage. For those walking, it takes an average of 30 hours to reach.

⛩️ The Temple Grounds

Kongofukuji is unlike any other temple on the pilgrimage. With stunning architecture, a serene pond, and massive colorful stones, the temple blends into the rugged beauty of Ashizuri Cape. The buildings, some resembling driftwood in their deep, weathered colors, carry the scent of ocean spray and burning incense. 🕯️🌲

📸 Featured Shots:

🔹 Traditional Wooden Gate & Temple Buildings – Each structure at Kongofukuji has a distinct rustic yet elegant aesthetic. 🔹 Rock Gardens & Sacred Grounds – Pilgrims walk among towering stones, symbolizing spiritual strength and endurance. 🔹 The Great Pond Reflection – The pond mirrors the temple’s beauty, creating a peaceful atmosphere. 🔹 Pilgrim in White – A modern-day henro (pilgrim) on their sacred journey. 🔹 The Towering White Pagoda – A striking contrast against the deep green of Ashizuri’s wild forests.

🏆 A Temple Founded by Kukai (Kobo Daishi)

In 822 AD, Emperor Saga ordered Kukai (空海)—the founder of Shingon Buddhism and the Shikoku Pilgrimage itself—to establish Kongofukuji. The deity of worship here is the thousand-handed Senju Kannon Bosatsu (千手観音菩薩), a symbol of compassion and mercy.

✨ Why Visit Kongofukuji?

✅ Spiritual Pilgrimage – One of the most important stops on the Shikoku Henro route. ✅ Stunning Scenery – Ocean views, pine-covered hills, and unique temple structures. ✅ Deep History – A temple that has stood the test of time, serving aristocrats, samurai, and monks alike. ✅ Hidden Gem – Unlike tourist-heavy Kyoto, Kongofukuji offers tranquility and an authentic cultural experience.

🔗 Find Out More & Follow My Journey:

🌏 Full Image Gallery & Stock Photos → Linktree 📷 Instagram (Live Updates) → @shikoku_4k 🛸 Drone Photography & 4K Videos → YouTube 🖼️ Stock Images & Prints Available → Wirestock, Adobe, Shutterstock, Alamy, Pond5

🙏 Support My Work & Future Pilgrimage Photography: 💙 Buy Me a Coffee → Support Here

🌿 About Me:

I’m a husband, father, teacher, drone pilot, and digital creative based in Japan. My passion is capturing Shikoku’s natural beauty and rich cultural history through photography, drone cinematography, and immersive storytelling. 🎥✨

If you love Japanese history, Buddhist temples, and breathtaking aerial views, follow me for exclusive content from all across Japan! 🚀🇯🇵

[omegaincense]

Mysuru Dasara 2024: A Royal Celebration of Dussehra Traditions in Karnataka

[cercandodiscrivere]

Cadere | emperor geta x reader.

word count | 2.7k

warnings | 18+, infidelity / cheating, dark themes (mentions of war, death and murder), murder plans as part of sex talk, prayers, porn with too much plot, unbeta'd.

synopsis | The last time you dared to beg the gods for favour, you pleaded to be given to a man over another.

It seems just like a cruel joke how your wish was granted now—a jest that only serves to make you beg once more.

gifs by @whereisyourpippinnow.

“Dea, quae thalamorum custos es et coniugii praesidium, domum meam ab hostibus defende, me tua virtute sustenta.”

The voice, a low and steady murmur, seeps into the room like a wisp of warm air: Lucilla's prayer is not so much a plea as a soft-spoken lament, her words coated in a quiet sorrow that seems to echo throught the marble walls.

The words she whispers are unfamiliar, not part of the litany you were taught at the temple. Each request is carefully considered and every word is chosen with intention.

The last time you pleaded to the gods with such desperation, it was to beg for them to alter the path your father had chosen—but no divine messenger appeared in his dreams. The gods had greater concerns than the unwanted marriage of a young girl.

You wondered if they watched when your father confirmed Tiberius Aemilius Marcellus’ desire to wed you. If they knew the torment of leaving the sanctuary of the home you had grown in.

If they noticed how, even if you still tried to tint your prayers with the same devotion, they always tasted as sour as vinegar on your tongue.

“Virum meum sanum et incolumem redde, ut cor meum eius reditu gaudeat.”

The voice brings you back to the present.

Lucilla may have been careful with her words, but she showed little regard for the dove that she had her servants sacrifice. A delicate creature, even with its feathers stained red: an offering to Juno, the guardian of the household and of women. A gesture to secure your husbands safe return from battle.

You had anticipated a prayer to Mars, a tradition before men embark on glorious battles (although Tiberius, if he could hear your thoughts, would remind you that the true glory comes only after the brutality of war).

Lucilla appeared to share a similar opinion. "Leave it to the men to pray for war" she said when you had asked her. "We women pray for our lovers' safe return".

Affection is the closest thing to the sentiment you feel for Tiberius: more unbridled feelings are reserved for poetry and drama, not arranged marriages. He is a kind and devoted man, as is expected. As a Legate for the army, he ensures your safety: as his whife, your heritage secures the continuation of his bloodline—and that is all.

“Why not pray to Victoria, then?���.

“Victorious or not, let them come home alive—for if a man dies at war, sad is his wife’s fate”.

And with that, you knelt and bowed your head, listening intently as the woman begun her pleading.

The room is now filled with a dense and overwhelming aroma of incense; the scent clings to your throat, suffocating the air. As the smoke rises in coiling tendrils, it wraps around you, casting flickering shadows that dance along the walls.

The night outside is eerily quiet, the sound of men's laughter echoing through the walls: tomorrow morning, when the Emperors will bid farwell to the soldiers and their purpose, there will be no mirth.

The Emperors.

Your family had once been part of Settimio Severo’s court, your father a cousin to the imposing ruler. You grew alongside his sons—a past far enough that seems almost like a dream. Once, you used to hide with Caracalla to infiltrate the adults’ cenae, trying to steal wine without being seen. You would watch Geta as he trained, a lanky child with a gaze too serious for his age.

It has been years since they watched you leave, the bright nuptial flammeum still pinned to your hair. Now, all that remains to fuel your fantasies are fading memories and the echoes of laughter from the banquet; a grand celebration held by a General seeking approval from his Emperors.

One where lieutenants indulged in sweetened wine, losing themselves in its intoxicating spices.

A gathering not meant for women to attend.

“Pacem et securitatem mihi largire, et ne sinas me in bracchia malignorum cadere, ut sub tua misericordia vivere possim”. Lucilla’s voice falters as she finishes the prayer, the room falling into an unsettling stillness.

In the distance, someone shouts while others laugh. A servant standing behind you moves, her tunic brushing against the floor.

Lucilla's eyes quickly glance in your direction before she speaks. “Will you walk with me in the gardens?”.

To catch one last glimpse of our husbands is the implicit proposition; and while in every other situation you would never deny a woman of such high status, there is nothing you desire less—because catching a glimpse of Tiberius would mean seeing his domine. Your heart would not dare.

“Your request is kind” you answer, hoping your voice comes out as somber as hers. “But I have a son to go back to”.

You regret the excuse almost as soon as it leaves your lips, for the saddened look Lucilla gives you almost makes you stay. Out of all the things you could have said to her as you left her alone in the darkness of her home—filled with Acacio's men but devoid of any comfort for her—somehow it feels as if you chose the most hurtful one.

A moment later, her lips curve upwards in what could be considered a smile; yet it appears more like a mask meant to please others than a genuine reaction.

“I understand”.

Still smiling, she orders a servant to inform your litter carriers to wait for you at the entrance.

_

You bid Lucilla farewell with a respectful bow, one that she does not seem to register. Escorted away by her ancillas, you assume she will not walk through the gardens now that you are gone.

Indifferent to men’s affairs, the moon casts a silver glow — and yet the night is still too dark, too overwhelming to bear alone.

You should reach the entrance: but as you stand in the peristylium, your feet refuse to move. In the middle of the open courtyard, ecircled by towering columns, you can’t help but feel trapped.

Beyond the opposite wall lies the raucous dining hall, the air filled with laughts and shouts.

There’s music. There’s the sound of plates clattering and glasses clinking, accompanied by the occasional splash of wine that some drunken guests might have spilled. There’s footsteps, right behind you.

Footsteps. Behind you.

"Leaving so soon, without greeting the guests?".

You spin around, your breath catching in your throat —and there he is, just a few steps behind you. Geta.

Bathed in the moon's ethereal glow, his features are sharper than you remembered. You had always envisioned him and his twin as shining gold: gold like their crowns, gold like their coins and their brooches and the divine blood that flows whithin their veins.

Under the silver light, he instead emerges from darkness like a haunting memory from your past.

"Domine" you say as you lower yourself into curtsy—for an Emperor who speaks is one who demands an answer.

Even with your head bowed down you can sense how the ceremonious response displeases him.

"Ah, so formal” he remarks, his tone still teasing. “No need”.

His hand gently lifts your chin, straightening you. “I recall a time when you would refuse to bow before me, just out of stubborness”. A small grin appears on his face—and for the second time tonight, you can't help but feel that something is off about the smiles on everyone's faces.

“You would throw tantrums, and father would force me to apologise on my knees” you agree.

I miss those moments, you almost say—but it would make you seem too desperate.

Geta laughs openly, his hand still resting on you. He’s getting closer; you can almost smell the sweetness of the wine on his breath.

“It’s too early to be leaving” he says. “We haven't seen each other in years. It would be a pity to waste such a rare occasion”.

It occurs to you that you’re entirely alone with him now, and for just a moment you wonder if wandering the house alone was the best idea: your instinct is to give the same excuse you gave Lucilla—the longing to be in his presence so overwhelming it almost scares you.

…and yet, he wants it too. You cannot refuse an Emperor's request.

“You are right. My servants can wait a bit longer; catching up with an old friend is more important. Let’s talk, then”.

Geta laughs once more, his nose almost touching yours as his fingers gently rest on your cheek.

“Who said anything about talking?”

His lips meet yours a moment after.

It’s an insistent kiss, one that will leave your lips raw and red.

Instinctually, you reach up and twine your fingers into his hair while his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you even closer. The resulti s that you fell trapped again—between his warm body and the chill of the marble column—and for a breathless moment, you lose yourself in the feeling.

It’s the sound of something hitting the floor, distant but still uncomfortably near, that has reality crash back like a cold wave.

You pull away abruptly, your heart racing. “Stop” go on go on go on.

Geta leans back just enough to give you space to speak.

"Tiberius is on the other sideof that wall" your voice is trembling—fear, excitement, shame. "A servant could walk this way at any moment. This is madness".

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, as if your words hold no significance. "You recall" he says instead, "you recall when your father would demand that you apologize on your knees". He moves closer, but instead of kissing you again or pushing you to the ground, Geta shocks you by dropping at your feet himself.

His intense gaze used to be a serious one—almost too mature for a young and careless man—but now it’s wild, deranged. "If he let you stay, I would have adored you. Worshiped every step you took".

You do not respond to the delirious declaration, too dazed to do anything beside gasping for air.

“You look just as good as I remember” his voice is soft. “Charming. Sweet. Beautiful… a shame, to see you leave with a man so insignificant”.

As he speaks, his hand sneaks under your tunic, inching up and up and up as he stands.

“I… We can’t” you are not even sure if he hears you. Shame swirls in your loins, mixing with desire—and despite all reason, you don’t stop Geta as he pushes the layers of your skirt up to your hips.

He presses against you once more, his gaze never wavering from yours. He doesn't need permission; even he knows he already has it. He wants to hear you admit that you want him just as much as he wants you. He wishes for surrender.

You whisper his name, unsure if it's a scolding or a plea. He leans in closer, planting fiery kisses along your neck. His mouth sucks on your skin until you moan into the air above him, fingers tightening into ginger strands of his hair.

It’s too much.

It’s not nearly enough.

“Yes” you say. This time your voice is clear. “Take everything you want”.

“I will”.

With that as a last warning, he spears two fingers inside of you, finding you wet and wanting. You hold onto his shoulder tightly, your chest rising and falling with each breath as a loud moan escapes your lips, only encouraging him to continue.

You've shared nights with your husband before—but not like this, never like this.

"Please-" you gasp, trying to hold on to some sense of modesty while also giving in to the rough, demanding movement. His pace is fast and unrelenting, and the most careless of you eagerly surrenders to them in hopes of reaching release.

Geta's grin stretches across his face, victorious as if he has just won a fierce battle. “Oh, it would be a shame to leave you to that man”. His lips caress your ear. “But you won’t be with him for long”.

The worlds ring wrong, but you can't bring yourself to look away from him. You stand still, unable to move, overcome by ecstasy, destroyed by the intense passion that he effortlessly ignites within you.

“Battlefields are cruel. Soldiers get hurt” he continues, and his choice of topic is so strange that it snaps you back to reality. “It is not uncommon for a legate to lose his life in action”.

“What-” and it’s all you can get out before you're overcome with pleasure once again, completely helpless in its grip. You need more, need him, need something that will consume you entirely so you don't feel as dirty as you do in this moment.

Geta seems to understand. The fingers draw away; but before you can even register the loss, he aligns you with his cock and pushes inside.

You let out a sigh—in relief or shame or both—and his hand darts to your throat, not enough to cut off your air but just to silence your whine. The possessive way he grasps you only adds to your arousal.

“Yes, he won’t have you for much longer” he growls again. “I’ll make sure of that”. The confidence in his words is laced with lust: he exudes strength and control– yet, it seems that you have the power to unravel him just as much as he can unravel you.

The pace of his hips is bruising: almost too much to bear, but you can't get enough of it. He's claiming you as his own, branding you with every movement, inside and out.

“Tell me you are mine, just mine”.

“I am yours” you almost scream. “All yours, only yours”.

He lets out a rough groan, using the hand around your throat to grip your hair as he thrusts into you.

A thin layer of sweat has coated his forehead, furrowed brows and parted lips giving away his concentration. Whether it's the feeling of your burning flesh against his, or the whispered fantasies he keeps confessing to your skin, it has his body in a wreck of tension.

His lips leave your neck, chapped and red, his movements now erratic as he nears his impending orgasm.

He does not look at you when he comes: he rolls his eyes up at the dark sky, daring the Gods to judge him. You both dive into each other one last time, clawing, grasping, lost in fiery ecstasy that leaves you moaning beneath Geta as he empties himself inside you.

The act alone leaves you shaken, your back curved and legs trembling as you cry out at the top of your lungs. You hold onto his feverish and heated skin, so that when you come back to your senses the first sensation you feel is Geta—all over you, claiming you as his own.

He traces his fingers over your skin, and you feel completely undone. Spent.

As your heart rate slows and your breathing steadies, the sounds around you begin to resurface: the cacophony of laughter, gentle strumming of lyres, soldiers shouting at each other. You scan the peristylium, looking for any servants or guests meandering about.

“Hush, don’t worry” Geta says, redirecting your attention back to him.

He leans in closer, but instead of seeking another kiss, he simply rests his forehead against yours. “Soon, we won’t have to hide”.

He speaks of war again, and all the ways a man can perish: and as he does, a shadow creeps over his face, sinister and cold. You feel a chill run down your naked arms, this time not from shame.

Geta laughs and promises luxurious silks with precious jewels. He tells how perfect you will be by his side, in gold. How you will bear his heirs—and his alone.

The last time you dared to beg the gods for favour, you pleaded to be given to a man over another.

It seems just like a cruel joke how your wish was granted now—a jest that only serves to make you beg once more.

It’s true that you may never be as devoted as Lucilla is: and yet, as Geta pants beside you, her earlier words still echo in your mind.

Pacem et securitatem mihi largire [grant me peace and safety]

Et ne sinas me in bracchia malignorum cadere [and do not let me fall into the arms of the wicked ones].

[loveaurdeepression]

a/n: long awaited desi!reader<3 tell me if you want more :3

Your house is quiet when he enters. The silence is eerie after the commotion he'd caused back in the n109 zone, and despite the knowledge that there is no threat to you here, he can't help the surge of worry that shoots through him.

A few moments more and ah, he hears the slow jingle of anklets. Like a siren's song, their enchanting chime lures him in, deeper into the home you've made, decorated with pieces of your heritage, from the sandalwood incense stand to the tapestry, your house is sprinkled with the essence of you.

"Darling?" he calls out, testing the waters, seeing if you'll hear him. A breath later, soft music fills the house and he chuckles, you know he's here.

"In here, love," you say and he follows your voice, the tinkling of your anklets only growing louder as you move around your room, He'd asked you to be ready for a fancy dinner and was close to buying you a dress on his own when you'd waved his offer away.

"Buy me a dress when you take me out next time, jaan. I have the perfect thing for this."

He'd expected maybe a different cut or color but one thing he'd learned when he was with you was to always expect the unexpected.

And so, when he finally walks through your doorway, with the sun rays shining through your windows, he can't help but stare.

Because you're possibly the most beautiful you've ever been in the thousands of memories he's ever had of you. Because the sun shines just right on your brown, glowing skin. Because your kohl-lined eyes gaze at him with all the love in the world, albeit a little nervous, and the dress.

The dress.

"It's a lehenga, Sylus. Do you like it?" you ask, henna-decorated fingers fidgeting.

How could you possibly think he just likes it? When every dragonic instinct instilled in him since his rebirth has resurfaced, when every part, every version of him that is in his head is repeating in his mind, like a broken record-

Hoard.

He fights between wanting to take you to the abyss with him, where you can be with him and his gold and jewels, and showing you off for the world to see. For all the people in the restaurant to admire, and to weep.

Because this treasure is his.

He doesn't say a word, he only moves closer, drinking in every drop of you bathed in the sunlight like a parched traveler.

He gulps, "Darling, you look ethereal." He runs his hands through the intricate threadwork of the lehenga, fascinated with the shine of the set jewels. Your necklace makes him want to shove his face between your shoulder and jaw and tear it off of you, but not for the jewels of the necklace, no, of course not.

The dragon only wants you.

You giggle, a sound he savors, "You like it, huh?"

"I love it." he murmurs, taking your hands in his and focusing on the art on your hands, "I love you"

With a mischievous smile, you look at him, "Look for your name."

His heart beats faster, "My..name?"

You nod, "Legend says that if you find it, we'll be lovers forever."

As if that isn't already the case, he reigns in all the focus he has ever learned to muster to look, to seek, to search for his name. He looks at your fingers, and palms and reverently turns them over, and there, On your ring finger, is his name.

He pauses, kissing your fingers, looking up at you like he's a devotee and you're the benevolent goddess he's worshipped all his life.

"Looks like we're together forever, sweetie."

[growthhyp]

The Garage Sale I

Jack, a towering figure of masculine power, his straight, tall body sculpted by rigorous bodybuilding routines. He stands confidently in a pair of skin-tight black shorts, showcasing his muscular physique. Above the waist, he dons a vibrant black tank top, the material stretching tautly across his broad chest and bulging biceps, emphasizing his strength. His attire is completed with a pair of white sneakers, the laces tightly bound to mirror the snug fit of his clothing. A silver necklace with a gothic cross rests against his collarbone, reflecting the sun's glow. In his right hand, he holds a cardboard sign that reads "Jack' Closet Sale" in bold, hand-drawn letters. Behind him looms an ancient-looking house with ivy climbing up the walls, hinting at a long lineage of secrets and mystical heritage. The setting is a quaint neighborhood with well-maintained lawns, adding a whimsical contrast to Jack's dominant presence. A sense of intrigue is cast over the scene as we realize that Jack, the owner of the house, hails from a lineage of witches. The vibrant garments displayed on a rack beside Jack suggest an eclectic taste that blends with the enigmatic aura of the house's history. The array of tight-fitting shirts, leather jackets, and dark pants speak to Jack's edgy, magical style. The sun shines brightly, casting sharp shadows that play across Jack's defined abs and the various fabrics of the clothes for sale, while a gentle breeze whispers through the air, stirring the leaves of a nearby tree. The scene is alive with a palpable energy, the juxtaposition of Jack's alpha demeanor and the whimsical, mysterious backdrop of the house inviting passersby to explore the secrets and treasures hidden within the garments. Little did the buyers know, these garments contains magic which the buyers will know once they tried to wear them.

A tender moment between two skinny young men, Anthony and Tony, whose love for each other is unmistakable. They stand in an intimate embrace, their bodies intertwined in a way that speaks of deep connection and comfort. The light from the sun casts a warm, soft glow upon their faces, highlighting the love in their eyes and the gentle smile that plays on their lips. Both are dressed casually yet stylishly, with Tony in a fitted t-shirt that emphasizes his lean frame and Mateo in a button-up shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing his slender neck. The contrast of their dark and light hair, Tony's in a short, spiky style and Mateo's in loose waves, adds a visual interest to their embrace. Their slender arms are wrapped around each other, and their long fingers are interlocked in a delicate yet strong grip.

As they walk, their eyes are drawn to the unusual spectacle of the garage sale. They see Jack, a colossal figure, his muscles rippling like waves of power beneath his clothes. The sight of him is so unexpected in this serene neighborhood that it feels like a mirage, a sudden jolt of the extraordinary amidst the ordinary. His biceps bulge in a way that seems almost supernatural, and the vibrancy of his black tank top draws their gaze like a beacon. The two lovers exchange a look of wonder, their curiosity piqued by the stark contrast between the seller and the delicate garments he's peddling. They whisper to each other, their voices low and filled with excitement, as they contemplate the story behind this mysterious man and his enigmatic wares.

They approach the rack of clothes, their eyes scanning over the fabrics, colors, and styles. The wind picks up, carrying with it the faint scent of incense, hinting at the arcane nature of the garments. The shirts and jackets seem to whisper secrets to them, promising an adventure beyond their wildest dreams. And then, as if by fate, Anthony's hand brushes against a piece of white spandex. His eyes widen in amazement as he tugs it out, revealing its form-fitting shape and sheen.

"Hey, Tony," Anthony says, his voice thick with excitement, "Check this out."

Tony looks over and sees the white spandex in Anthony's hand. His eyes light up with understanding, knowing the allure it holds for his partner. He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, really?"

Jack, noticing their interest, steps closer. "That's a fine piece of clothing," he says, his deep voice resonating with a hint of amusement. "It's one of my favorites. It's got a bit of a… stretch to it."

Anthony blushes, the heat rising in his cheeks as he holds up the white spandex. "How much for this?" he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

Jack, with a knowing smile, says, "That'll be twenty bucks. It's a special piece, one of a kind."

Anthony nods, his heart racing as he hands over the cash. The transaction feels charged with more than just money changing hands; it's as if he's purchasing a ticket to a new world of pleasure and power dynamics. Tony takes the spandex from Jack, holding it up to his own body with a playful smirk.

"I'll wear it for you tonight," he says, his voice low and seductive, sending a thrill through both of them. The fabric seems to glow with promise, stretching tautly between Tony's fingers.

===

The sun dips below the horizon, and the neighborhood grows quiet. The only sounds are the distant laughter of children and the occasional car passing by. Inside the house, the curtains are drawn, and the lights are dimmed, creating a cozy, intimate atmosphere. The air is filled with the scent of their dinner, a romantic meal they've prepared together.

Anthony lies on the bed, his skin pale and almost translucent against the white sheets. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, his anticipation building as he imagines Tony wearing the white spandex. He runs his fingers over his own flat stomach, tracing the lines of his ribs and the contours of his lean frame. The black briefs he wears cling to his hips, showcasing the excitement of what's to come.

The sound of the shower running fills the house, the water pounding against the tiles echoing through the walls like a heartbeat. Tony stands in the steamy bathroom, lathering his slender body with soap. He's lost in thought, a smug smile playing on his lips as he visualizes the evening's events unfolding. He runs the bar of soap along his flat chest, his hands gliding over his flat stomach and down his narrow waist. The warm water cascades over him, highlighting his skinny body and the sharp angles of his bones.

As the shower comes to an end, Tony steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist and grabbing the white spandex from the counter. He slides it over his legs, the fabric clinging to his skin with surprising ease. Despite being a bit large, it seems to hug him in all the right places, showcasing his toned thighs and the outline of his manhood. He pulls it up over his hips, feeling a strange heat radiating through his body. The spandex fits snugly around his waist, the elastic digging in slightly, as if the garment itself is alive and eager to become one with him.

Walking into the bedroom, Tony lets the towel drop to the floor. The sight of him in the spandex sends a jolt through Anthony, his eyes widening with desire. "Damn, Tony, that looks… incredible on you," he murmurs, his voice husky with arousal. The room seems to pulse with energy as Tony struts towards the bed, the spandex accentuating every step.

"You look… amazing," breathes out Anthony, his voice thick with desire. The compliment hangs in the air, a palpable force that makes Tony's confidence swell. He knows he's not the most muscular or the most traditionally attractive man, but in this moment, he feels like a Greek god.

Tony approaches the bed with a predatory grace that's new to him, the white spandex shimmering with an otherworldly glow. The fabric seems to pulsate with every step he takes, the room's shadows dancing along with his movements. The scent of their dinner has been replaced by the intoxicating aroma of pheromones and excitement.

Tony, feeling an unusual surge of horniness from the magical spandex's influence, Tony leans in and captures Anthony's mouth in a passionate kiss. The suddenness of it takes his breath away, but he eagerly returns the favor, their tongues dancing together as if they've been waiting for this moment forever. The spandex seems to pulse with energy, the material seeming to tighten around Tony's body, fueling his desire.

The kiss is demanding, almost aggressive, as Tony's hands move to grip the sides of the headboard. He pulls himself closer to his lover, his lean body pressing against the firmness of the bed. The fabric of the spandex whispers against their skin, a seductive sound that seems to echo their passionate intentions. The room feels electrified, the air thick with the scent of lust and the promise of something more.

Anthony, feeling the sudden change in Tony's demeanor, gasps as his partner's hands begin to roam over his body, the touch growing more insistent, more powerful. Tony's grip on the headboard tightens to pin down his lover, his fingers digging into the wooden frame.

With a fiery hunger in his eyes, Tony reaches down and frees his cock from the confines of the spandex. It stands tall and proud, the veins pulsing with a magical vigor that matches the rhythm of his racing heart. He lines it up with Anthony's quivering hole, the tip of his erection glistening with pre-cum. The room seems to hold its breath as the two men lock eyes, the tension palpable as they hover on the brink of something incredible.

Anthony feels Tony's hardness press against him. He moans, the sound deep and needy, his own cock responding in kind. The anticipation is exquisite, a delicious ache that makes him squirm with pleasure.

As Tony's hips begin to move, his cock sliding along the cleft of Anthony's ass, the spandex seems to come alive, the material tightening and releasing with each thrust. The sensation is unlike anything Tony has ever experienced, the fabric almost seeming to breathe with him, to move in sync with his body.

With a growl, Tony's hand comes down on Anthony's plump, round cheek, the sound echoing through the room. The slap resonates with power, leaving a red handprint that seems to glow against the pale skin. The shock of pain sends a jolt through both of them, but instead of recoiling, it only seems to heighten their arousal. The spandex stretches and clings to Tony's body, the fabric moving with him like a living thing, as if it's urging him on, feeding off the energy of their desire.

Tony's cock feels like it's swelling, growing larger and more substantial with every thrust. He's never felt anything like this before.

Anthony gasps as Tony's hand squeezes his hip, his fingers digging into the flesh. The spandex around Tony's waist is stretching, the fabric straining against his suddenly growing frame. His abs are becoming more defined, the lines between each one deepening and becoming more pronounced. His chest is expanding, the muscles swelling.

The transformation is subtle at first, but it's as if the very essence of the magical garment is seeping into Tony's skin, reconfiguring him into something more than human. His arm, the one holding onto the headboard, bulges with newfound strength, the veins popping out as if they're about to burst through the skin. His shoulder widens, the muscles growing taut and powerful.

Anthony feels it, too, the bed shaking beneath them as Tony's body changes. He watches in awe as Tony's back, once a canvas of lean muscles and smooth skin, begins to expand, each vertebrae becoming more pronounced, the muscles swelling and rippling with every thrust, tracing the contours of his newfound power.

The white spandex, stretches and morphs with Tony's legs, bulging with each flex and release of his newfound muscularity. The fabric clings to his calves and thighs like a second skin, the material seemingly alive and responsive to his every movement. Each pump of his legs is now a display of unbridled strength, the spandex tightening around his quads as they bulge and release like pistons.

Anthony's eyes are wide with a mix of fear and excitement, watching as Tony's body continues to change. The man he loves is becoming something else, something more powerful and primal. The spandex, once a mere piece of clothing, now seems to be the vessel for an ancient power, molding Tony into a creature of pure, sexuality. Tony's hips rock into him with an intensity that's almost violent, the fabric of the spandex whispering with each powerful thrust, the sound sending shivers down their spines.

As Tony's body changes, so does his mind. Images of female beauty flood his thoughts, and for a brief, disorienting moment, he feels a strange arousal thinking of a young woman appearing in his mind. Her breasts bounce slightly with each step she takes, and he feels his cock throb with a hunger that's foreign to him. The spandex seems to pulse with a dark energy, feeding on his confusion and amplifying his desires.

The room seems to spin around them, the air thick with the scent of magic and the heady aroma of lust. Tony's eyes glaze over, no longer focused on the man beneath him but on the phantom female figures that dance in his mind's eye. He can almost feel the softness of breasts, the wetness of a pussy, the heat of a woman's embrace. His hips continue to thrust, driven by the power of the magic within the spandex, his body moving almost involuntarily as he chases the illusions in his thoughts.

With a final, powerful thrust, Tony's body goes rigid, and he roars out his climax, his cock pulsing with the power of the magical spandex. The fabric seems to glow brighter, the aura surrounding it pulsating with every spurt of cum. The intensity of the moment overwhelms them both, and their orgasms crash together like waves upon the shore, leaving them gasping and trembling in the aftermath.

Exhausted by the sheer power of their lovemaking, their bodies entwined in a mess of sweat and passion, they slowly come down from their peak. The room returns to a gentle stillness, the only sound their heavy breathing and the distant whispers of the night.

Tony lies there, his body now a monument to power and desire, the spandex clinging to him like a second skin. His newfound muscles, bulging and defined, cast strange shadows on the wall as he catches his breath. The fabric whispers as it settles against him, seemingly satisfied with the transformation it has wrought. His mind swims with the images of feminine beauty that have taken over his thoughts, a stark contrast to the man he's always been.

Anthony sleeps soundly, oblivious to the turmoil within his partner. His slender body, so fragile in comparison to the new titan beside him, rises and falls with each breath he takes. The soft curve of his hip is a gentle reminder of the love they've shared, a stark contrast to the newfound aggression and power that now courses through Tony's veins.

[rightwheretheyleftme]

How the ‘Avatar Legends’ retcon fails Kya

Let me show you 2 moments from TLOK:

season 2, episode 9

season 2, episode 13

Both of those moments deliver the same joke: Kya doesn’t know how to meditate and when she attempts it, she ends up clumsily messing it up. In the first instance, it’s even a visual joke: Check how Jinora and Meelo, 2 characters who know how to meditate, have one stick of incense placed in front of them while Kya is awkwardly holding 2 sticks.

These jokes take on a deeper meaning when you read how the showrunners first conceived the character of Kya:

The Legend of Korra show bible

They envisioned Kya as someone who didn’t know her father very well- therefore, she doesn’t really know his culture or how to practice it.

Then in 2022, we got this retcon:

[…] she did internalize some of his [Aang’s] lessons about philosophy, meditation, and balance, holding them close to her heart for her whole life. Now, as the Air Nation's growth strains its leadership's time and energy, Kya has stepped up to help teach those same lessons her father taught her, both at Air Temple Island and out of her Dragon Flats-based clinic.

If you have encountered any K*taang account in the wild, you know that this semi-canon paragraph has been wildly celebrated. Now, out of nowhere, Kya knows meditation so well that she can teach classes about it! Hooray!

Bryke, stop bullshitting us. You established twice over that Kya doesn’t know how to meditate, you can’t erase what you portrayed in your show and try to convince us that she was a meditation expert all along. It’s clear that the showrunners don’t care about the Kya as a character, they see her as a tool to clear the mistake that they made when they wrote TLOK!Aang as a neglectful father.

Anyways, here is the full information that we get about Kya in Avatar Legends and I’d like to remark my favorite quotes:

“When disaster strikes, she can quickly switch between healing the injured and taking on attackers without missing a beat.”

“She does have some lingering pain, though, from her father favoring Tenzin, the Airbender, over his other children.”

“When she's in the city, the waterbending master Kya runs a free clinic out of a converted tenement in the middle of Dragon Flats. The clinic provides physical and mental healthcare, preventative to emergency, to a neighborhood that most needs it and can least afford it.” (emphasis mine)

“Katara broke boundaries as the first woman known to modern history to receive formal training as a master of both waterbending combat and waterbending medicine. Her daughter Kya was part of the first generation of young Waterbenders to learn both disciplines side by side.”

“Kya grew up frustrated that the world saw her as just a Waterbender, and not another child of Air Nomad heritage. Yes, she is an expert Waterbender, and she gladly accepted the traditions and culture of her mother... but she has always felt an affinity with Air Nomad culture. Her father taught Tenzin about Air Nomad culture far more than he taught either her or her brother Bumi […]” (empashis mine)

I love Kya so much. I wish the writers did as well.

[lesorciercanadien]

My Current Inventory of Magic Tools

Here's a list of tools I use in my spiritual practice that can inspire others that are on this path! While some are heritage pieces that cost a lot of money up-front due to craftsmanship, the every-day tools are pretty inexpensive. For example, most candles can be found at the dollar store, and incense can be personalized to your taste. For my practice, I use cedar incense, since it is known as a cleansing plant in the Christian tradition, and many Acadian and Québécois households used cedar on Palm Sunday before palms became widely available.

Most of the heritage pieces, for anyone wanting to participate, I strongly encourage investing a few extra dollars to get good quality items! It will last you years of magical practice, and you can use them with pride.

La ceinture fléchée - the woven sash

A symbol of identity to the Métis living on the Canadian plains, the historical Huron-Wendat people, and historically worn by French voyageurs and fur traders and their indigenous partners in trade, these sashes were strapped around the waist. These were mostly useful in keeping the woollen coats closed, store belted tools, help with the strain of carrying heavy pelts, and prevent hernias and back strain on long canoe expeditions. The long strands on the end could also be used as impromptu sewing thread. These sashes would reach about 15cm to 25cm and its length easily passes 2 metres. These sashes were traded among indigenous groups for furs, and later, by the Hudson's Bay Company in the 19th century. It became a part of the traditional Québecois peasant clothing at least since 1776. As the sash travelled upriver to the plains and beyond, Métis groups adopted the sashes, elaborated on its craftsmanship, and truly made it one of their most recognized symbols. Depending on where the sash is woven, the colours can change. For example, for Québec, they preferred a blue colour scheme, for Montréal, red, and for those woven in between Ottawa and the Red River, black was more prominent. Hand-woven sashes can take up to 500 hours to complete. (1)

The one pictured above I bought from Etchiboy, a Métis artisan. The sash I bought was inspired from the Assomption sash motif, one of the oldest known woven patterns from the 18th century. I wear it on my woodland wanderings, for rituals, and cultural days. I especially wear it in winter to keep my coat closed. I chose to adopt the sash into my practice after lots of research. It is an item of rich history between the French and their indigenous allies, and a consequence of the fur trade in our country. I encourage anyone who's interested to buy from artisans who hand-weave them! There are machine-woven ones nowadays that might be less expensive, but nothing beats the quality of good wool and good weaving. With the richness of variety in the weaving patterns depending on the region they're from, why not have a sash that harkens back to the history of your region?

The walking stick or 'le gourdin'

In Québécois folktales, the stick, known as 'the gourdin', was most seen as a gift from a woodland fairy (like a guardian of all trees, or a mistress of the birds) to the intrepid hero Ti-Jean. This magical stick could thwack all his adversaries with the simple command of "tappe, gourdin!" (slap, stick!), among other fabulous deeds (2) This stick was a tool of protection on long journeys fraught with peril. So, what better companion to the Canadien witch than a walking stick? I use mine for every excursion, and have added to it some talismans of a wolf, owl and skull to keep evil spirits at bay. There's also a portable rosary around the stick, and the Ste. Anne of Beaupré religious medal. Historically, she was often a saint prayed to by voyageurs before they undertook the long and perilous journey to the fur trading posts, usually near present-day Montreal. (3)

The pocket knife

The pocket knife is a multi-talented tool of our trade! It can carve folksy figurines, cut wooden branches for weaving, harvest plants, cut curses, and keep les feux-follets (willow-the-wisps) at bay. Folklore has it that if you're out camping in the woods, fold you knife so that it creates a 90-degree angle, and stick it into the bark of a tree bordering your campsite. In the morning, if the blade is bloody, chances are it was the feux follet being intrigued by the space between the blade and the tree, and cutting its throat, thereby being free from its doomed roaming. (4) It is also a well-known tool in case you need to free a loup-garou (werewolf) from its curse by cutting it on its white spot on the forehead where he previously received communion as a kid. (5) By extension, it is a vital tool to break curses. Of course, don't make anyone bleed with the knife. That goes without saying. Treat the knife well, keep it sharp.

The rosary

Yes, my path has Catholic tools in it. Of course! Quebecois and Acadians of my ancestry were Catholic people primarily. It is a versatile tool in my practice, used for spellwork as well as meditative prayer. For those who are interested in praying the Rosary traditionally, I'll create a separate post. For spellwork purposes, I usually say a round of "Hail Mary" ten times before starting a spell for the ultimate protective shield. There is also known folk uses for the rosary in Acadian and Québécois communities. For example, to fidget with the rosary without intent or purpose brings about the Devil. (6) The rosary can also be used as a tool to find lost items. Simply toss the rosary over your shoulder, and the crucifix will point in the direction of the lost item. If you want good weather on your wedding day, hang up your rosary on your laundry cord the day before. (7). Rosaries nowadays even come in decade forms as portable rings for your pocket, and some are actual rings you can wear on your finger. I got a few rosaries myself. One for special rituals (I never toss that one over my shoulder!), and cheaper, more portable options for the tossing spell.

Holy medals

I amassed quite a collection of holy medals for individual saints. Other notable ones are those for the souls in Purgatory (worn on All Souls Day), the Holy Spirit at (worn on Pentecost or when I do divination), Jesus the Shepherd (it's comforting), Stella Maris (patron saint of Acadians). I have a few of the same for more frequented purposes, for example, I keep a Saint Luke medal on my artist's pencil case, since he is the patron saint of artists. Traditionally in Acadian communities, it was known that when your day was going awfully, and your bread dough just wouldn't rise, you just needed to boil some holy medals in water to turn your luck around (8). They are quite inexpensive, so it's fast and easy to grow a collection in a short period of time. Many catholic retailers sell them.

Divination tools : the playing cards, dice and coin

My divination tools can be found in anyone's cupboard and drawers. The trusty playing cards deck nowadays comes in such amazing variety of art, the one I picked for myself was the Bicycle Aviary Playing Cards. It has such a lovely folk art vibe to them! The way to divine them comes from sources of card-playing and superstitions from history and folktales from folklorist Marius Barbeau, and people over centuries carrying around the cards for entertainment and perhaps a glimpse into their futures. One guide on reading the cards: Fifty-Four Devils: The Art & Folklore of Fortune-Telling with Playing Cards by Cory Thomas Hutcheson. Dice can also be used in the same manner if you're doing a numerology-based divination. The coin can be used as a simple yes or no divination by playing 'heads or tails'. The coin can be a beautiful commemorative coin like mine, or a simple 'cenne noire' (blackened penny), or whatever currency you have on hand.

The sewing kit and fibre arts

I wanted to add this iconic cookie tin into the folk witch's repertoire, because we all had grandmothers who had this tin lying around with their tools to mend and sew anything. In my practice, and in my hobbies, I make clothing and I embroider. I can use this tin to house my relevant supplies to have some sacred time darning old socks, creating spiritual garments by hand, or embroidering pretty things. You can also draw sigils on the rim's inner side for blessing your items inside! There's also other uses for some of these tools in your home! For example, my great-great grandmother used to use her thimble to create the holes in her croxignoles, these woven doughnut style rings from the Magdalen Islands.

Musical spoons

Musical spoons, sometimes made of wood to be used for musical purposes, as shown here, or made from every-day metal spoons held together for the same effect, are an iconic instrument in French-Canadian folk music. I would recommend learning how to play them rhythmically and to use that as a grounding tool. I just find these way more authentic than a drum. Not to mention rhythmic foot tapping and step dances are frequently used in our folk music to set up a beat.

Woven Cloths

These beautiful cloths or 'serviettes' were woven by my mother on a giant hand-loom, often employed by local farmer's guilds in Québec. Les Cercles des Fermières du Québec sometimes has craft fairs where they sell these among other hand-crafted items. In folklore, the cloth was present when Ti-Jean needed to create a magical feast on the fly, create a magical tent for shelter, or carry around all his tools for his journey. These cloths however were almost always given by a fay creature, so best be cautious in eating food from it. Nowadays, it can be used as altar cloths, protective shields for your tools, or to apply healing energy to an ailment you carry. (9) I use mine to do my card readings, wrap special items. If you are lucky enough to find a 'catalogne', which is a heavy blanket woven on those big looms from scraps of old t-shirts, cottons and the like, that's like, a massive cloth you can have over your bed and its folkloric properties can be used for protection and good dreams. It is also the best weighted blanket for anxiety, tried and tested by me! Mine was woven by my grandmother.

Cited sources

Wikipedia "Ceinture Fléchée" consulted on Jan 21 2025/ 2. Barbeau 1st series/ 3. Podruchny / 4. Butler/ 5. Maillet / 6. Dupont 83. / 7. Dupont 122. / 8. Dupont 83. / 9. Barbeau 2nd series

Bibliography

Barbeau, Marius, « Contes populaires canadiens », The Journal of American Folkore, vol. 29, no 111, janvier-mars 1916, 154 p.

Barbeau, C.-Marius. “Contes Populaire Canadiens. Seconde Série.” The journal of American Folklore 30, no. 115 (Jan-Mar., 1917): 27-36. http://www.jstor.org/stable/534454. 

 Butler, Gary R. Histoire et traditions orales des Franco-Acadiens de Terre-Neuve. Québec 1995. p. 156

Dupont, Jean-Claude. Heritage d’Acadie. Collection Connaissance, éditions Lemeac. 1977. 

Maillet, Antonine. Rabelais et les traditions populaires en Acadie. Les presses de l’université Laval, Quebec. 1980. 

Podruchny, Carolyn. Making the Voyageur World: Traveler’s and Traders in the North American Fur Trade. University of Toronto Press. 2006.  

[coven-of-genesis]

Beginner in witchcraft tips? Like where should I start?

Beginner witchcraft tips

Part one : where & how do I start

1. Research and Respect Open Practices

• What Are Open Practices?

Open practices are spiritual or magical systems that do not require initiation, cultural heritage, or permission to engage in. Examples include eclectic witchcraft, kitchen witchcraft, green witchcraft, hedge witchcraft, and secular witchcraft.

• Avoiding Cultural Appropriation:

Practices like smudging (specific to Indigenous cultures), Hoodoo, and Voodoo are closed practices unless you are properly initiated or invited. Instead, use general terms like “smoke cleansing” with herbs like rosemary or lavender.

2. Build a Foundation of Knowledge

• History and Ethics of Witchcraft

Study the historical persecution of witches, modern witchcraft movements like Wicca, and the ethical principles (e.g., Wiccan Rede, the Threefold Law, or personal moral codes).

• Learn the Basics of Magic:

• Correspondences: Study how herbs, crystals, colors, and moon phases align with magical intentions.

• Intentions: Understand that intention is the core of magical practice. Clarity and focus are vital.

3. Start with Simple Tools and Techniques

• Common Tools:

You don’t need expensive or elaborate items to begin. Everyday objects like candles, notebooks, or kitchen herbs work just as well as specialized tools.

• Candles for fire energy (tea lights are excellent for beginners).

• Herbs like rosemary (cleansing and protection), basil (prosperity), and chamomile (calming).

• Salt for purification.

• Crystals like clear quartz (amplification), amethyst (calm), or rose quartz (love).

• DIY Approach:

Craft your own tools or collect items from nature (leaves, stones, feathers) for more personal meaning.

4. Create a Sacred Space

• Physical Space:

Choose a small area for your altar or sacred space. This can be a shelf, a table, or even a portable box. Include items like:

• A candle for focus and light.

• Representations of the elements (e.g., a bowl of water, stones, a feather).

• Personal objects that bring comfort or inspiration.

• Energetic Space:

Use cleansing techniques to clear your space, such as sprinkling salt, using sound (bells or clapping), or wafting incense.

5. Practice Energy Work

• Grounding:

This helps connect you to the earth and stabilize your energy. A simple method:

• Sit or stand barefoot. Imagine roots growing from your feet deep into the ground. Visualize excess energy flowing down these roots into the earth.

• Centering:

Gather scattered energy into your core. Visualize a glowing ball of light in your chest or belly, representing your personal power.

• Shielding:

Protect your energy by visualizing a protective bubble or shield of light around you.

6. Explore Divination

• Tarot or Oracle Cards:

• Start by pulling a single card daily to learn its meaning and connect with your intuition.

• Many decks come with guidebooks to help beginners.

• Pendulums:

Use a pendulum for yes/no questions. Practice by asking simple, clear questions and observing the swing (e.g., clockwise for yes, counterclockwise for no).

• Scrying:

Try gazing into a bowl of water, a mirror, or a candle flame to receive intuitive insights.

7. Learn Magical Timing

• Lunar Phases:

• New Moon: Set intentions and start new projects.

• Waxing Moon: Build energy and take action.

• Full Moon: Amplify power, perform gratitude rituals.

• Waning Moon: Release and banish unwanted energies.

• Days of the Week:

• Example: Thursday is associated with abundance and success.

• Seasons and Sabbats:

Research the Wheel of the Year (e.g., Yule, Beltane) and celebrate the seasons in ways that resonate with you.

8. Work With Nature and the Elements

• Earth: Grow plants, use crystals, or walk barefoot outside.

• Air: Burn incense, write affirmations, or meditate on your breath.

• Fire: Light candles, work with fire-safe herbs, or set intentions during sunsets.

• Water: Take ritual baths, work with moon water, or meditate near a body of water.

9. Keep a Grimoire or Book of Shadows

• Document your spells, rituals, and experiences.

• Include correspondences (e.g., herbs, colors, moon phases), affirmations, and journal entries about your practice.

• This will help you reflect on your progress and refine your methods over time.

10. Develop Your Own Path

• Personalize Your Practice:

Use what resonates with you and leave out what doesn’t. Witchcraft is a flexible and personal journey.

• Be Patient:

Progress takes time. Focus on consistency rather than perfection.

• Stay Open-Minded:

Connect with other practitioners to exchange ideas, but always critically evaluate what you incorporate into your practice.

[tylermileslockett]

Hellenic Polytheism or Hellenismos is the traditional, polytheistic (multiple gods) religious belief system of Ancient Greece. Modern people who believe in pre-Christian and polytheistic belief systems often refer to themselves as pagans. Let’s look at some of the general practices of typical Hellenic worship.

         Hellenic Polytheists use altars or shrines to worship specific Gods within the Greek Pantheon. For example, an altar for Apollo may contain an image or sculpture bust of the god, as well as a side table, called a trapezōmata, which holds offerings of incense and flowers or food and drink such as wine, honey, milk, or olive oil. Another tripod incense holder was called a Thymiateria.

Before engaging in a ceremony, the practitioner will employ purification methods with lustral water (ritually cleansed). They may recite hymns or prayers in honor of the god, using the Homeric hymns for example. The practitioner may use a divination practice to seek guidance or gain insight from a god through methods like casting lots, reading signs from nature, oracle prophecies, and dream interpretations. In their ceremonies, ancient Greeks would perform rites in respect to their Ta Patria, (ancestral homeland heritage), and they would take pride in their reverence with Hos Kallista, or the highest level of beauty.

         Hellenic Polytheism follows annual calendar festivals commemorating Gods or famous mythological events such as the Panathenaia in Athens (commemorating Athena), the Anthesteria and City Dionysia; (festivals celebrating Dionysus) The Olympics (a physical competition in honor of Zeus) and the Thargelia, (dedicated to Apollo and Artemis), and the Thesmophoria, (a festival exclusive to women in honor of Demeter), among many others. 

Want to own my Illustrated Greek myth book jam packed with over 130 illustrations like this? Support my kickstarter for my book "lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in October.You can also sign up for my free email newsletter. please check my LINKTREE:

[japaneseaesthetics]

A Massive (45 lbs) Japanese Silver Incense Burner, Meiji Period. Heritage Auctions

[blacksaltsreborn]

OPEN STARTER [always open]

It had been under construction for weeks, months it felt like but finally that old heritage building was being taken in by someone that seemed willing to jump through all the hoops needed to do any repairs. Let alone rebuilding the entire building but you had to admit, it looked good.

Wide stone steps led up to the dark wood double doors, large windows on either side displaying quite the array of items for offer.

Black Salts and Forget-Me-Nots read the sign above the door in a smooth swooping font and the shop definably upheld its rather unique name, selling equally unique items. At first glance it may look like one of many shops selling crystals and incenses but that was only some of the items one could see through the windows.

An entire wall seemed taken up with various sized shelves with jars holding a mix of herbs and plants of an array of colors. Keen eyes could pick out one section was teas and another seemingly to be chewed before the signs were to small to read from outside the shop. Through the open doors one could see a counter with an array of charms displayed within the glass.

Deeper, out of sight from the streets, lay more interesting treasures on the shelves though already some whispered there were sections that seemed to vanish when you weren’t paying attention.

The owner and sole employee rested behind the glass counter by the register, comfortably lounging in what seemed to be an actual lazy boy chair while flipping through a thick heavy covered book. Bjorn was younger than most would expect to own his own shop, bright red locks pulled up in a high ponytail with small braids woven through with tiny items peeking through the strands. A bead here, coloured thread there and was that…a bone? You lost sight of the off-white bit as Bjorn turned to lift a steaming cup beside him to his mouth for a careful sip. Still promptly burns his tongue with a little hiss and shake of his head.

[sailorgoon13]

Sebastian Sallow

Basics:

Full Name: Sebastian Sallow

Nickname: Seb, Sebby, or whatever clever name Ominis comes up with

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: 18 November, 1874

Heritage: Scottish

Blood Status: Pure Blood

Wand: Yew, Dragon Heartstring, 11", Slightly Yielding

Appearance:

Hair Color: Chestnut Brown

Eye Color: Rich Dark Brown

Skin Tone: Fair

Height: 5'11"

Body Type: Athletic and lean. Agile

Style: White button-down shirt and green tie. Suit jacket, in shades of dark green or silver. When not at Hogwarts he wears something practical and relaxed. He isn't one for fashion, just as long as he looks like he tried then it is an accomplishment

Features: Freckles!! His hair falls effortlessly over his forehead in waves. The natural, slightly unkempt style of his hair reflects Sebastian's casual confidence and rebellious spirit

Personality:

Traits: Charismatic, Determined, Optimistic, Fearless, Protective, Complex

Likes: Knowledge, Dueling, Quidditch, Forbidden Magic

Dislikes: Failure, Authority, Uncertainty, Injustice, Goblins

Hobbies: Crossed Wands, Quidditch, Breaking into the Restricted Section

Fears: Anne dying, Being sent to Azkaban, Ominis and Y/N hating him

Family and Friends:

Father: Unknown

Died when he and Anne were young

Was a Professor

Mother: Unknown

Died when they were young

Was a Professor, as well

Siblings: Anne Sallow (Twin)

Was always Sebastian's best friend

When she became cursed, it hurt Sebastian more than it hurt her

Friends: Ominis Gaunt, Y/N

Magic:

Special Abilities: Mastery of Unforgivable Curses, skilled duelist,

Boggart: Solomon

Patronus: Beagle

Polyjuice: It would have a deep, ebony color with swirling wisps of silver or green and would look like a syrup or a molasses. Smell smoky incense and the faintest trace of something sweet and floral. There is a sharp tang of bitterness with a lingering sweetness, like the taste of ripe blackberries.

Amortentia: Old books, Smoke from a campfire, Salty sea air and Cedar

Backstory:

Sebastian and his twin sister Anne grew up in the Scottish countryside, under the guidance of their parents who were esteemed professors. From a young age, their parents instilled in them the value of knowledge, curiosity, and the pursuit of truth. Sebastian admired his parents deeply, wanting to have their optimism, open-mindedness, and boundless eagerness for learning.

Tragedy struck when a lamp in their cellar, tainted with an undetectable toxin, claimed the lives of their beloved parents. Orphaned, Sebastian and Anne were taken in by their uncle Solomon Sallow, who lived in the secluded village of Feldcroft. However, their relationship with their uncle was strained; Solomon, a stern and unforgiving man who was also an ex-Auror had clashed with Sebastian's refusal to accept Anne's situation.

During this time, Sebastian found peace in the companionship of his friend, Ominis Gaunt, who he met in their first year at Hogwarts. Along with Anne, the trio would often retreat to the hidden sanctuary of the Undercroft, where they practiced spells and played Gobstones, shielded from the prying eyes of the world above. Ominis, like Sebastian, harbored secrets and shadows of his own, forging a bond of trust that endured more than most.

As Anne's condition worsened, Sebastian's desperation drove him to the forbidden arts of the Dark Arts, seeking a cure that eluded even the most skilled healers. When Solomon intervened, tensions reached a boiling point, resulting in a fateful confrontation that shattered their already fragile family.

Despite the turmoil, Sebastian found comfort in his friendships, including one with a fellow student, MC. Their bond, forged in the pain of their fifth year, provided Sebastian with a glimmer of hope in the darkness that threatened to consume him.

Amidst the chaos and upheaval of his adolescence, Sebastian found refuge on the Quidditch pitch, channeling his inner turmoil and anguish into the fierce competition of the game. Joining the Slytherin Quidditch team as both a Beater and Keeper, he found fleeting moments of freedom and purpose in the rush of wind and the thunder of the Quaffle.

Academics:

Best Subject: DADA

Favorite Subject: DADA

Favorite Professor: Hecat

Worst Subject: Astronomy

Least Favorite Subject: Divination

Least Favorite Professor: Onai

Student Life:

Despite his penchant for rule-breaking and his involvement in dark magic, Sebastian was a dedicated and studious student. He excelled in his classes, particularly DADA and Potions

His rebellious nature often landed him in hot water with the faculty. His frequent detentions for sneaking into the library's Restricted Section became a badge of honor

To find a distraction from all of his inner turmoil, he joined the Quidditch team and found it to be a good way to release his emotions

**All screenshots are mine, collage is mine but pictures used were found on Pinterest**

Template: @hazyange1s

[whencyclopedia]

Korean Pottery

The pottery of ancient Korea stretches back to prehistory when simple brown wares were made and decorated with geometrical incisions. Potters would benefit from the ideas and techniques of their Chinese counterparts and go on to produce their own highly sought-after works, including grey stoneware, celadons or greenware, buncheong ware and white porcelain. Ceramics are innovative in design and range from impossibly intricate incense burners to the sublime simplicity and elegance of the maebyeong vase. Korean pottery decoration typically employs plants, flowers, and wildlife, and reflects the country's religious heritage with Buddhist motifs and minimalist Confucian designs taking precedence.

Prehistoric Pottery

Early Korean pottery from the Neolithic period, especially in the form of brown bowls with either a flat or pointed base, both with incised decoration, show a cultural link with communities in the Liaoning province and Liaodong peninsula of China. The most common decoration of this period is zigzag or comb-like incisions which have given the name to a type of pottery: comb wares (chulmun). Some vessels have square spiral incisions while others have raised decorations achieved by pinching the clay.

Korean Bronze Age pottery tends to be undecorated, walls are thicker, and there is a greater variety of shapes - typically steamers, bowls with pedestals, and jars with handles. When there is decoration, it covers less of the vessel and takes either the form of the incised motifs of the previous period or applied clay bands. Burnished wares are either black (long-necked jars) or red (small bulbous jars). These are, once again, indicative of contact with China.

Iron Age pottery is of a grey type with paddle and incised decoration, especially close hatching. A typical form of this period is the round-bottomed jar which has a small foot and distinctive small handles on the neck in the form of horns. Another interesting shape is the square cup set on a pedestal which is then lacquered black. It is clear that potters are becoming more skilled and more ambitious in their designs, setting the groundwork for the finer vessels to come in the Three Kingdoms period.

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