#mother Mary devotee

[phthalo-blue-witchcraft]

“Holy mother is not meant to be a fence: Holy mother is a gate.”

- Clarissa pinkola Estés, PhD in Untie the Strong woman

[artemis-potnia-theron]

Yes!!! ✨️Here are my current pieces:

A bracelet with Lady Artemis' symbols from HecatesBoutique

A ring with a small stag and turquoise stone for Lady Artemis from CelticCrystalDesigns

A ring with small moon and arrow design also for Lady Artemis from PersonalizedGiftsUSA. They also added a tiny engraving of her name 🥹

A small knotted bracelet for Mother Mary from KuripotmeCreations

This is my favorite piece. When I took my oaths to my mistress, I used this necklace as more or less of a 'wedding ring.' It's a family heirloom.

For me, it depicts my Lady in her warrior role, as she has been my guardian as long as my soul has breathed in this universe 💜

And there just happens to be a little bow and arrow on the back! 🏹

✨📿✨

looking at @satyrmagos 's devotional jewelry posts got a question in my mind

do you wear devotional jewelry? if so, what kind? what does it look like? where did you get it?

bonus points for reblogging with photos! 🤓

[bonbonly]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when I'm down on my knees, you're how I pray - when bishop!max decides to stay for the christmas festivities, chapter!charles leclerc finds it harder to hide his true religion: you. (this is a continuation of Temptation) 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: this is a dark fic! you have been warned! do not read if you are not comfortable with dark fics or any of the following: noncon/dubcon, slapping, p in v, fingering, lactation, oral (m receiving), stoning, almost burning at the stake. this fic contains heavy catholic themes/guilt, and also includes angst and redemption. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.4k 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on popular demand, i've made the sequel for Temptation! (read it if you haven't already!) writing this series made me a charles girlie omg

from the light through the cathedral's glass windows, the heavenly father centered his glory around the statue of virgin mary carrying her holy son, the loving baby jesus. above the ledge from where you stood, you glimpsed down to see the swarm of people shuffling into the main altar, getting on their knees as your child's father offered the lord's blessings to each loyal devotee. you watched the gentle smile on his face as he bowed his head, forming a cross on his chest with his hands. a soft amen fell from his lips, his eyes creased together as he giggled at something a child had said to him. his soft nature contrasted his demeanor towards you every night when he snuck into the attic to deliver another basket of bread and milk. he was a different man past the hours of the cathedral, the devil himself. you glanced down to your blissfully asleep bundle of joy in your arms, his tiny hands wrapped your finger as you gently rocked him back and forth. you could've loved the being in your arms had it not been out of a horrendous union that brought you turmoil more than love. you could've had the heart to smother him in kisses like any mother would to their child, to gift him every joy in the world had he been born to a man that you loved.

"you look cold, here have my cloak," charles leaned forward to kiss your forehead, draping the fabric over your shoulders. his head nestled onto your shoulder, ignoring the disdainful expression on your face. both your eyes fell down to your son, his soft coos echoing in the dark room where charles stored his obsessions. love was not in his vocabulary. for if he loved you, you knew he would let you go. charles gave your cheek a soft kiss, letting his warm lips linger on your cold skin, so that you could understand he would always be a part of you. a reminder of your new life as the mother to his child, another servant of god. your shoulders sagged at the declaration inside your head: this was your life. this was how you would spend the rest of your years. buried away in a dark attic where no man shall ever know of you existence - save your son - and you would rot away without the luxury of having a stable family. you envied your friends who were married and had a robust family tree, a dozen children to their name which they had wanted willingly. charles could see the sadness in your eyes, the way your head cast downwards with tears rolling down your cheeks. his breath hitched when the rays of light shone down on you; he saw the weeping virgin stand before him for a split second, her pain from the earthly world, from him. his eyes cast down to his child giggling with his arms outstretched for his father, and charles picked up the infant.

"leo is looking very healthy," he whispered, his eyes flickering to you for confirmation. you slowly nodded your head, your gaze transfixed onto the stone cracks. "i expect some words from you, mon ange."

"he is very healthy," you murmured, slowly lifting your gaze to face his. his eyes hardened into a glare, not happy with your attitude as of late. you acted as if it was the end of the world. what better pleasure would a woman such as yourself have if not being a servant of the lord, the mother to his child, his only possession far greater than the rosary he hung around his neck. he placed his son in the wooden cradle secretly made a long time ago when he first learned you were pregnant, and he grabbed hold of your arm to have you stand on your feet. his fingers dug into your jaw, forcing you to stare at him,

"what is wrong with you? have you forgotten your duties?" he questioned, watching you squirm under his grasp. your pitiful attempts to push him off were swatted away with his free hand, "you could've been a whore on the streets had i not rescued you. the grace of the holy father has led you to me, this is your chance at salvation and yet you act as if you'd rather live in perdition than with the heaven i have gifted you!"

he watched your tears collect onto his fingers, those rosy lips of yours now a small pout. he sighed out loud, repenting for his mistake of treating you so harshly and he leaned down to capture your lips into a kiss.

"oh, ma chère reine, come now. i am only doing this for your good," he kissed away your tears, caressing your face with his thumb. "it is not good for you to cry, i hate to see you cry. i only want to ever see you happy, n'est-ce pas vrai?"

your response is ignored as he sweeps you off your feet, carrying you to the bed he had placed besides the cradle. there was a small curtain that separated the "room" between yours and your son. charles laid you onto the mattress as if you were a dandelion, at any second you could be blown away out of his arms. his lips found your forehead once more, his touch gentle that for a moment, you were fooled into thinking that maybe he did love you. maybe, despite all the horrible things he had done to you, you could be safe in his arms. with parted lips, he cradled your face in his hands to pepper your face with kisses. your weeping eyes, your red nose, those cold cheeks and those rosy lips that always beckoned to him like the devil that you once were. his lips traveled down your neck, providing your bosom with open-mouthed kisses that were sure to leave marks. you were his, and had it not been his fate to serve for the lord, he would've married you as soon as your belly swelled with his child. it would've been a child out of wedlock and it still was but he didn't really care, but you were a mother. a beautiful mother that gave birth to such an extraordinary child. he undid your corset, letting the fabric slide down as his fingers popped through the strings of your shirt, revealing your swollen tits, already leaking with your milk.

the cross on the valley of your breasts was now a pale scar, and his fingers ghosted over the memories of events precisely a year ago. when he made you his. you weren't even looking at him, your attention on the curtain with your son's soft snores flooding the room. it sickened you that there was no comfort anywhere. charles rolled your nipples around with his thumbs, applying pressure on your hardening peaks as your milk trickled down gently. he squeezed them, leaving his mouth wide open to catch your strays. you always tasted so good. he almost envied his own child for being able to nurse off of you. he moved to nestle himself between your legs, hiking the skirt up. he kissed your ankles, using his free hand to push your panties to the side. spitting onto your cunt, he watched his own saliva glide down your folds, spilling onto the bed beneath the both of you. he would've taken his time with you had he not been occupied with his role as the chapter priest, but nonetheless his throbbing cock was free from its confines and he pushed into your velvety walls, groaning at the sensation. even after birthing a child, you still felt so good. so warm. you felt like home to him. he rocked his hips against yours, smiling when you finally broke your vow of silence to moan out loud and he leaned over to capture your areola in his mouth, drinking up the milk you had to offer him. his thrusts were always sharp, burying himself to the hilt to ensure that even without him filling you up, you'd always feel him inside.

"si parfait et tout à moi," he whispered, tilting his head up to watch you throw your head, completely gone in pleasure. he wrapped his arms around you, pressing your body flush against him, his cock drilling into you with fervor. "that's it, you can cum for me..."

that's all you needed to let yourself go, lips parting into an oval shape as you let out a guttural moan, sobbing into his arms. he silenced your whimpers with his lips, his cock still pummeling into you with erratic thrusts that signaled his climax was approaching. his goal was to fill you up again and again, hoping you'd be able to grow his family. you were so beautiful like this, slumped out against the bed, completely spent. upon hearing leo fussing, he dressed himself up quickly and scooped the baby up in his arms. you deserved some rest anyway.

"you have such a beautiful mother, you are so lucky leo. the lord has bestowed everything you ever need to you, un garçon vraiment très chanceux" he smiled. your eyes traveled up to the debilitated ceiling, unsure if your body could take the toll of having any more children. leo's birth was so tiresome, and it didn't help that you were kept as a secret. charles had acted as if he wasn't the actual father of the child, and he had your face covered so that no one could see that you were back from the supposed dead. you barely had time to recover from giving birth when charles immediately placed you on the wagon to head back to the cathedral. it was a nightmare you never wanted to relive ever again.

charles had left you and the baby to sleep, locking the door behind him. he trusted you enough not to try and escape him, but he knew for sure if you were willing to stay with him. the lord worked in mysterious ways, and perhaps his doubts were best to be cleared after a few hours of prayer. as he descended the back staircase, he passed by father gasly's cell who grinned at the sight of his friend.

"father leclerc! i was just wondering where you could've gone, mon cher ami, you almost could've missed it!" the french man slapped his hand onto charles' back, guiding him down the hallway.

"missed what?"

"bishop max is coming to spend christmas week with us. he was issued by the pope to see how large the spirit is during the holidays," father gasly explained, and charles rolled his eyes. since the day he joined the church, he'd always hated max. it didn't help that max had such close connections to the former pope at such a young age. if charles was the golden boy to his church, max was the son of the catholic religion. it was so clear that in another 10 years, max would become the pope one day. charles hated him for it, he already saw what was going to happen: max would come over and gloat in his face. he always used to beat him to prayer, getting the guidance offered by the senior priests first and charles would get the crumbs. he sucked his teeth, stepping into the main altar to find archdeacon vasseur laughing along with a man in a pointed hat, a cane in his hand that he tossed from one side to another. the archdeacon glanced over the man's shoulder to see charles, a wide grin on his face as he greeted the young man.

"ah, father leclerc! look who has brought glory to our cathedral with his presence!" the old man laughed, and charles' jaw went taut at the sight of max standing there, a crooked smile on his lips.

"ah, father leclerc! such a pleasure to see you again!" max's accent was still as thick as charles last remembered,

"good to see you again bishop verstappen," charles bowed his head slightly, feeling all his anger boil up to his head. he bit his tongue, remembering father bozzi's words from a year ago: never let your emotions get the best of you. keep that tongue of yours in check. charles clutched onto his rosary, hoping the holy cross would burn into his palm so that he would remain silent.

"you may call me father, no need for even more formalities," max laughed, "now i haven't been to this cathedral in quite some times. looks a bit worn, does it not?"

"we have so many visitors that our focus is mainly on them," charles snapped, ignoring the blatant side-eye father gasly was giving his friend. max raised an eyebrow, a hint of an amused smirk on his lips,

"i suppose so. i might need to go around this entire place. do some checks and see what could be added before christmas. pope hamilton said this place was one of the holiest in the world, and it ought to look like it." max adjusted his hat, glancing around the altar with an indifferent expression on his face. using his cane, he pushed charles to the side before walking off.

"what did pope hamilton see in him to promote him to bishop?" charles seethed, and father gasly nudged him with his elbow,

"father leclerc, jealousy does not suit you. if he heard you, he'd have you-"

"let him hear, i don't care. walking into my church and acting like he owns the place," he scoffed.

"your church?" father gasly snickered, "is this church not in the rightful ownership of the holy father? you don't own anything save your bible and rosary."

charles stared at his friend with a very dark expression on his face. he did have ownership. maybe not to the church, but definitely you and your child. he held his tongue, moving towards the altar to get onto his knees and pray. the father from the heavens had to ensure nothing bad would happen with max's presence. christmas was only a few days away, and the last thing charles' needed was a reflection on his cruel actions. no matter how many times he convinced himself that he was doing the world good by having you as his personal whore, he still felt like something was amiss. the light from the cross above him always seemed to dim when he stood before the altar. the organs did not sing the same tunes it once did when he pressed his fingers upon the keys. a mystery that he could not understand. the rosary around his neck reflected the light from the glass panels, right onto his heart. his eyes were closed, however, blind as always to the message the lord gave him.

max had past the hallway to the individual cells for the priests, but his eyes quickly caught hold of the staircase that was covered in sooth and dust. he frowned, running his fingers over the railings and recoiled in disgust at the dirt that stained his pale skin. he shook it off and grabbed his cane, tapping at the wood to make it wouldn't collapse onto him if he decided to climb the staircase. when his checks were through, he carefully ascended up to the top of the cathedral where the gargoyles slept peacefully. the bell-ringers were out for break so he wouldn't have to deal with their thousand questions. from what he could see, it was an open empty space, a clear view to the village down below. there was a room at the end of the passageway that had a few windows. he assumed it was for the bell-ringers to take short breaks and was about to head back downstairs when he heard a slight hum travel through the air. he circled back to the room, taking note of the lock on the door. pressing his ear against the door, he could hear a baby laughing while another voice sang soft lullabies. max moved to the window, peering through the bars to see you sitting on the ground, holding your son up as you took note of the way his legs scrunched together. you bent down to kiss his nose, watching his little face light up.

"didn't know the church held its own nursery here," max watched you stare at him with wide eyes, fear in your features as you held your baby firmly against your chest, his little head nestled in your neck.

"w-who are you? h-how... what are you doing here?" you questioned. even the bell-ringers had never come over. charles had convinced them all that they could do their duty one floor down. the well kept secret was now in the hands of a man you didn't even know.

"no need to fear me, schat." he smiled, "i'm bishop verstappen. i've come here to celebrate christmas with your church."

there was some sort of an edge in his voice, something that you could not explain. you glanced around your room, trying to avoid his sharp gaze. you never realized how suffocating this room really was until now. you set leo back down in his cradle, feeling your back being burned just being in his line of sight.

"you live here?" max inquired, the sound of his cane raking against the bars of the window making you clutch your ears. the metal scraping brought back horrid memories of the confines charles had you in, the whip of air as the flog drew red marks on your tits. you clutched your chest, still feeling the edge of the rosary being dragged on your skin to form the cross.

"y-yes," you breathed out, peering over your shoulder to see what new devil was at your doorstep. he frowned, tilting his head,

"interesting. and who knows about you? other than me of course."

you debated on telling him the truth. should you tell him the events from a year ago? but what if he was just as bad as charles? what if he found out you were originally a heretic and wanted to kill you? you gulped, deciding to play safe in the moment, "father leclerc, but he is nice enough to gift me bread and milk for the baby and i. aside from him, no one else knows."

"father leclerc does charity work? that's new of him," max snickered, "he keeps you locked away in here, though. do you offer him service for his hospitality?"

"n-no," you whispered, gulping, "none of that kind."

"a child out of wedlock," max pointed towards the cradle where leo was fast asleep, "and father leclerc has pitied you for it? he never was the type to do so. he was always stuck up from what i remember."

"he has changed."

"very much so indeed." max's lips formed into a thin line, "well, i shall see to it that you are free from your confines. a woman such as yourself should have the right to roam around this cathedral freely. as long as no one sees your baby, you should be safe." had he known the truth of your situation, you knew he wouldn't have been so kind to you. you nodded your head, listening to his footsteps fade away. you collapsed onto your bed, head in your hands as you thought about what would happen if charles came to hear of this.

charles was listening to a father lament about his dying son, torn between wanting to give him a proper burial but not having enough money to do so. he furrowed his brows, feeling sympathetic towards the man and he took off one of the rings given to him a long time ago by his late father. it was made out of gold, and he usually wouldn't have parted with it but he figured his father would rather the ring be used for something good than just an accessory. he dropped the ring into the palm of the man's hand and bowed his head,

"it is not quite equal to your son's burial but as stated from genesis 23:6 - none of us will withhold from you his tomb to hinder you from burying your dead," charles began, watching the man's face light up, "bury your son with the money the ring offers. if one dares question you, bring him to me and i shall discuss with him. may the lord guide your son's soul to the heavens. i shall send a chaplain soon to your quarters for his last rites."

the man held onto charles' hand, kissing it gently with tears in his eyes, "thank you, father leclerc. thank you, thank you. the holy father has done us all great service by having you among us."

charles' chest tightened at his words, a sensation that became more frequent these days. guilt was eating him alive, but he did not know why. he knew he was continuing the lord's work, being a very devout servant. but in the back of his mind, he remembered you all alone up in that cold room with leo, the sad look in your eyes. he watched the man exit the tall doors of the cathedral, and he caught hold of the statue of virgin mary carrying the infant jesus. his chest tightened once more, remembering the weeping virgin he saw in your eyes earlier. right when he was about to head back to his cell, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. much to his dismay, it was bishop verstappen and charles rolled his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek.

"father verstappen, did you have a nice tour of our church?" charles glared at him, wanting to make his disgust extremely evident.

"mhm, very nice. i just didn't think you to be so charitable. giving away your father's ring just like that?" max sighed,

"i had nothing to bury my father in when he passed away. i only wish for this man's son to not suffer the same fate. everyone deserves to be buried," charles responded.

"tsk, tsk, tsk, you have gotten much softer, father leclerc, last i remember you were very keen on banishing my soul to hell if given the opportunity."

"that hasn't changed, actually. i'm just trying to be cordial since pope hamilton sent you here." charles growled, "charity is a good thing."

"i never argued with you about it, i'm just surprised the extent to which your charity goes." max narrowed his eyes, "and in the name of charity, i hope you haven't abused your rights as a servant to the lord. the kleine duif wishes to escape her cage. don't keep dogs tied up for too long."

charles gaped in horror as max walked off with a knowing smirk. he straightened his shoulders, glancing up to the ceiling of the cathedral before grabbing his rosary and heading up the back staircase. unbeknownst to him, max saw the chapter priest swiftly ascending the staircase and the bishop laughed to himself, realizing that he had charles exactly where he needed him to be: beneath him at all costs. the pretty dove upstairs was a sight for sore eyes, and by no means was max a perfect man. he had flaws, too. as any man would. years of celibacy could not be easily achieved in this modern world. not when women such as yourself always tempted the innocent priests into sin. he wondered if charles had ever touched you, ever marked you as his. there was no way he wouldn't have, but charles was always known for being so perfect and prudish that it wasn't far out of the question to assume that he was only helping you and nothing else.

charles had unlocked the door to your room, his chest heaving in anger as he saw you laying on your bed with those empty, forlorn eyes. he slammed the door behind him, marching over to see you sitting up on the bed with a finger to your lips.

"you'll wake the baby," you chastised him, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you to him,

"did anyone see you?" he hissed, "answer the truth. if you lie to me, i won't hesitate to have you punished for your disobedience to me."

you swallowed, thickly and shook your head slowly. he could see your eyes gloss over, the rosary shining in your eyes. he grabbed your hair and yanked it backwards, disregarding your pained whimpers,

"do. not. lie. to. me." he punctuated each word with a slap to your face. you bottom lip quivered, your scowl deepening, "tell me the truth. who saw you here? was it max?" he would never give the title to a man he hated, much less the respect he deserved.

"max saw me," and you brought out your hands to try and calm charles down, "b-but i didn't tell him anything. i only said that you had me here to save me from the outside world. you were giving me a place to hide my baby and me!"

he raised an eyebrow, "and how should i believe you?"

"you have to trust me, charles!" you begged, growing frustrated at his lack of respect for you, "if i wanted to jeopardize your future at this church i would've done that a long time ago!"

"oh, really?" charles laughed bitterly, "so you've thought about that before have you not? is that what you're telling me?"

"charles, no!" you cried out, struggling to escape his firm grip in your hair, "you're not listening to me! the door was still locked, all max did was ask who i was and i lied to him! he does not know about our arrangement, he does not know anything!"

"get on your knees," charles hauled you off the bed, dragging you onto the stone floor, "open that mouth of yours. unless your mouth serviced me, i'll assume you have used it to speak lies."

you groaned out loud, clamping your mouth shut as you glared at him. that defiance, that anger in your eyes. he'd last seen it when he first captured you. if looks could kill.

"open your mouth, espèce de petit diable," he commanded, his voice brooking no disobedience. "take my cock into your lying mouth and let it purify your wicked tongue." he pressed the swollen, throbbing head of his cock against your lips, rocking his hips to let his cock slide against your sealed mouth. his fingers tightened in your hair, yanking it harshly and when you cried out in pain, he slipped his cock inside your throat, giving you no space to breathe as he began to fuck your throat harshly. tears streamed down your cheek, your drool seeping down your chin as you stared at him with pure hatred in your eyes. he took note of the expression on your face and he snarled as he forced your head to the base of his cock, your nose pressed against his pelvis.

"take the holy sacrament deep in your lying throat. let it purify your wicked soul." He held you there, buried to the hilt, as he ground his hips against your face, his heavy balls slapping against your chin. "god commands it," he panted, his voice filled with lust, "you cannot deny his will. you cannot refuse your sacred duty to serve his servant, to serve me."

you struggled to swallow all of his cum when he came, coughing and gagging uncontrollably, spluttering out his semen. you watched him tuck his cock back in his robes, grabbing your hair once more so that you could look at him, "let this be a reminder, mon cœur, i won't be so forgiving next time. no one sees you, no one other than leo and me." and with that, he stormed out of the room and locked the door. you laid on the ground with a hoarse throat, sobbing on the floor. was this the "lord's" method of punishing you for being a heretic? in what world was this supposed to make you love the holy father? your questions are silenced by the exhaustion that took over your body. your bitterness was only heightened when you noticed how leo was still fast asleep. the plump baby always slept without a care in the world after he had his dose of your milk. you wished you could sleep in peace like that.

it was a rule that after you misbehaved, you would have to seek forgiveness from the holy father. the only way to do this was to walk with charles down to the main altar very late at night when everyone was asleep. he took note of your busted lip from his abuse earlier in the day, running his thumb over your bottom lip as you winced in pain. he muttered a soft apology, kissing your forehead before taking leo from your arms. you needn't burden yourself so much, besides your only focus should be on being forgiven for your sins. while you moved forward to begin your prayer, father gasly had woken up from his sleep to grab some water when he saw charles holding a baby in his hands. he frowned, approaching the latter,

"father leclerc, whose child is that?" he asked, and charles was just about ready to punch his friend. having to explain himself out of this one would be quite difficult. charles glanced down at his son, taking note of his peaceful features. his little fingers were wrapped around charles' forefinger, and he smiled at the sight. it reminded him of the older man from earlier in the day, asking to bury his son. charles' felt the air in his lungs freeze for a split second, imagining if he would have to do the same for his little boy in the future. it was a thought that scared him. he never wanted to lose leo, he never wanted to lose you. he inhaled, sharply and looked up at father gasly,

"i saw this little boy at an orphanage. i didn't have the heart to leave him out there in the cold so i took him in. he's beautiful isn't he?" charles' cooed, kissing leo's nose.

in the meantime, you had gotten to your knees and clasped your hands together. no matter how many times charles taught you how to pray, it never was an easy task. not when you still refused to believe in the existence of a higher being. if such a god existed, why didn't he save you? why would he have let you be tormented like this? you stared at the cross, tears welling up in your eyes at how hopeless everything seemed. you casted your eyes downwards, remembering what charles had said to you months before when you were faced complications in your pregnancy. your eyes had to be hidden. no one should know about your existence. no one should recognize.

"and if in the case someone meets your eyes, and sees you as (y/n) (l/n) the whore who used to dance in festivals and preach hersey with her followers, i shall find a diamond-encrusted dagger and gouge your eyes out so that no one shall remember what you used to look like..." charles' words echoed in your ears. you shook as you pretended to pray, your head empty with silence surrounding you. you felt a presence besides you, and you turned to tell charles that you had finished your prayer when instead you faced max.

"he's finally let you out, what a surprise," he whispered. you snapped your head back to the cross, your breathing now rapid as you tried to calm yourself. he took note of the way your breasts - from the small glimpse he had under your cloak - rose and fell in quick successions. "schatje, i've told you before, you need not fear me. i won't do anything to you."

"i cannot risk it. i cannot bring attention to myself," you whispered, and max rolled his eyes,

"there's barely anyone awake at this hour. come, i know a good place." he held out his hand, standing up on his feet. you hesitantly accepted his offer, finding it strange that he was treating you so kindly. he was asking, rather than demanding. you knew following max into the confession booth would land you in much more trouble tonight, but sat down besides you with a very soft look in those blue eyes. "here, you can tell me anything, schatje. how did you end up here? who is your child's father? whatever you wish to tell me you can."

perhaps it was out of desperation to finally have someone to properly talk to, but you revealed everything to max. you told him about your previous life, you told him how charles was obsessed with you, how he fucked a prostitute dreaming about you and how he burned your house down when your parents were away, kidnapping you and storing you away in the top of the cathedral in that hidden room to teach you the bible. you told him of your baby leo, how he had your eyes. you cared for the baby, but you could never bring yourself to love him. you sighed out loud after finishing your tale, staring at max as you waited for his reaction. he merely licked his lips, leaning his head back on the wall of the booth as he processed your tale.

"so the baby... is charles'. i knew the bastard wasn't pure," he chuckled, dryly. your face fell, having expected him to say something else. you were oblivious to their rivalry, already caught up in your own misfortunes. max tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, "ah, my poor lady, you have gone through so much. what all did he teach you?"

"he used to read the-" you stopped when you saw max shake his head,

"no, no, not about the bible. what did he teach you in bed?" he pried your lips open with his thumb, letting your mouth envelop around his digit as you began to suck. "such a good little slut, fuck... i can see why he chose you. i have to give it to him."

"for christ's sake, pierre," charles snapped out of the formality he usually gave his friend, "pierre, snap out of it. the baby was abandoned, no more questions out of you." he was still stuck up in the cell of father gasly, rolling his eyes at the millionth question he had to answer.

"oh come on, charles," pierre scoffed, dropping his act of formality as well, "it's a cute baby. what awful creature would leave this baby to die?" he turned to face the infant, peppering his little face with kisses before pressing his cheek against his own, "can i keep the baby, charles? he's so cute."

"he's not a dog, pierre. he's my-" charles paused, clearing his throat before continuing, "he's an infant."

"an infant abandoned so close to christmas! and he has come to our church! is this a sign from the lord?" pierre asked, and charles' shoulders sagged. he ran his hands over his face,

"pierre, give the infant back to me. i assure you, it's..." charles paused, picking up max's voice from the distance, "is that father verstappen?"

"possibly, i've been told he likes walking around churches at night since the lord has a different ambience then... isn't that right, leo?" pierre cooed, nuzzling his nose against the baby's face. the infant merely giggled in response, trying to grab onto the chaplain's nose. charles bit his lower lip, the realization of having left you alone at the altar crossing his mind. he smacked his hand on his forehead, hurrying out of the cell.

"wait, the baby!" pierre called out, and charles shook his head,

"you can take care of leo for the night," and he hurried down the hallway, grabbing a candle. his fingers looped through the hole of its holder, and he stormed around the dark cathedral, spinning in circles to see where you could've gone. you weren't in front of the cross, you weren't in the aisles. he stopped for a moment, hearing the squelching of juices coming from the confession booth. he could see a small candle through the holes, the shadows of two bodies dancing together like the flames before him. charles' heart sank for a moment, praying that it wasn't you. it shouldn't be you. you were his, only his. he swung open the door to the confessional, and saw a sight that burned his eyes.

max had the top of your dress bunched down to your waist, his lips wrapped around your nipple, drinking your lavish milk while your greedy cunt sucked his fingers. your head thrown back as you let out soft moans, bucking into his hand as his palm rubbed against your clit. max released your tit with a pop, licking his lips as beads of your milk dribbled down his chin and he brought his mouth to kiss your jaw. he was grinning like a madman, eyes snapping to face charles' anguished expression and he picked up his pace, curling his fingers inside you, scissoring your poor cunt as you let out strangled moans, trying to be quiet. you squirted all over max's fingers, your juices coating the walls of the confessional, breathing heavy.

"the dove's quite the slut, father leclerc," max snorted, "so beautiful and perfect. she'd be my personal whore if i took her with me back to rome," he smiled, licking his fingers and sucking on them to relish your taste. "oh schat, you taste amazing."

"get the fuck out of here," charles hissed, jerking his thumb to the side. max slid you off his lap, standing up and straightening his robe. he pushed past charles, placing his cane at charles' neck,

"she told me everything. you're lucky you're loved so deeply by this church, or i would've convinced them to throw you out a long time ago," he threatened, letting the edge of the cane dig into charles' chest. the sharp pain made him grit his teeth, and when max left to return to his special quarters, charles' dark eyes slowly turned to you. you were shaking in the corner of the confessional, hooking the sleeves of your dress back up your shoulder as you got to your knees,

"charles please, i didn't mean it... it just happened so suddenly, i don't know how to-" a sharp sting bloomed on your cheek as your head snapped to the side. charles' shook his hand, the crack of his lap even hurting him. he looked at you with such disgust,

"i should've known... the devil hasn't left you, has she? she's stored in your heart, n'est-ce pas vrai putain?" he pressed his finger against the scar on your chest, forcing you back up against the wall. his hand shot out to grab your throat, dragging you out of the confessional and onto the aisle. your head hit against the wooden furniture, your temples throbbing in pain as you felt him bunch up the skirt to your dress. without much preparation, he thrusted himself in you in one-go, clamping your mouth shut to silence your screams. he did not care if he was defiling you right in front of the holy cross. this would be a mistake you'd never make ever again. he was your rightful owner, not max. his fingers dug into your hips, hips snapping against yours as he continued to drill his cock into your overstimulated cunt your previous orgasm had still left you in a daze because of max's skilled fingers, and now with charles' cock ravaging you, you were crying and begging for him to have mercy on you. your tits were leaking with milk, your body unable to control the sensations you were feeling. charles' hands groped your tits, squeezing your milk out for his tongue to catch and soon he flipped you onto your stomach, bringing his cock right back into your spent pussy. your gummy walls tightened around him, trying to push him out but it only motivated him to drive further into you. he grabbed your hair, yanking your head to face him as your back arched.

"why can't you see it?" charles hissed, slapping your ass firmly, "why can you never understand? you belong to me! only me! you're mine!" and with each thrust of his hips, his hold on you was loosening. you were sobbing onto the carpeted floors of the cathedral, burying your face in your arms as his cock stretched your unwilling walls into oblivion. "how many times do i have to prove myself to you?"

charles' dropped his head down to the back of your neck, his weight pushed onto you as he continued to snap his hips relentlessly. you could feel tears on your back. charles' tears. "why can't you understand?" he whimpered, wrapping your throat with his hand as he brought you closer to him, "will nothing i do satisfy you? what more should i do?"

his words didn't make sense to you, and you couldn't follow along with what he was getting at. not when he was destroying your poor cunt like this. he pulled out of you just shortly after you silently screamed, cumming around his cock and instead flipped you onto your back so that you could face him. his cock was still achingly hard, the tip all red and angry, waiting to cum. a needy moan escaped his lips, his hands fighting the urge to finish himself off, to let his cum coat your skin. but he was denying himself. instead, he glanced down at you as began to sob,

"you know how much i love you?" he whispered, and your eyes widened, realizing that he had finally said the words you knew he would never feel, "my love for you... i love you... i love you so much. why can't you...." he took in a shaky breath, standing up and confining his cock inside his robes, "i love you so much. i just want to be with you, to be loved by you. i love you so much, why can you never see it?"

since charles' confessions, he distanced himself away from you as much as he could. he'd give sermons and return to his cell. the door to your room was permanently unlocked, giving you access to roam around the cathedral as much as you pleased. it was a stark difference from the man you once knew, and you didn't know if he finally cleared his soul, or if this was a storm brewing. father gasly took care of leo so often that you felt free from the confines of being a mother. charles' would escort you to pierre's cell, insisting that a proper woman could only take care of a child even though the both of you knew it was just so that your son still remembered who his mother was. you'd walk the hallways of the cathedral at night, admiring the various statues and glass panels up close, taking note of its details. charles would stand in a corner, never once meeting your eyes. the thought of even touching you made his skin crawl. his chest always felt heavy, a newfound burden taking a toll on his body with each step that he took around the cathedral. the light on the holy cross no longer dimmed when he stood before it, instead it shined brighter. a chance for redemption, but he did not know how to gain your forgiveness. everything that he had done to you finally freed his clouded thoughts; he was a monster. he was the very devil he had claimed to have seen in you. his lust brought his own ruins, he felt ill every time he gave a sermon about avoiding all sins. he'd whimper in his sleep, feeling like a kicked puppy as he replayed the nights where he'd keep you awake to satisfy his carnal urges. he'd wake up more frequently at night, crying to himself at how unfit he was to be a chapter priest. he should be publicly stoned to death for what he had done. he always felt more than he should, father bozzi always told him that. it surely didn't help his emotions when he saw bishop verstappen talking with you more frequently in the darkness of the night. you were opening up to him more often, actually smiling and enjoying his presence, in a way that you never did with charles. he deserved it, rightfully so. he'd shuffle back to his cell, taking leo into his arms from father gasly and would hum some small lullabies to usher the infant back to sleep. he could not stare at the statue of virgin mary anymore, could not stand to see the imagery of the weeping virgin. he brought this upon you. it was all his fault. he had to make it up to you, but he just didn't know how exactly.

bishop verstappen had slipped a piece of paper to charles to watch out for something important later in the day, a special early christmas present for the chapter priest. it was the morning of christmas eve, most of the people were getting ready to settle with their family for the night. the church had been fully decorated, the bell ringers coming with big wide smiles on their faces as they ran to and fro, getting small gifts from the archdeacon for their work throughout the year. charles had let the church discover leo's existence the night before, letting each of the divisions of priests fawn over his "adopted" son as they put it. 

"commendable charity work," father sainz smiled, "you really know how to represent what christmas is really about." and charles smiled, thinly. 

you had followed bishop verstappen into the streets of your village. the bright light so foreign to you after so long. you brought your cloak over your face, watching the small children run around. some of the faces you recognized as your neighbors' children, the very ones you'd laugh and play with after you finished your work at your stall. you smiled warmly at the memories, laughing as they nearly bumped into you in excitement for some magic show happening around the corner. the sounds of families giggling and embracing each other on the streets made you miss your own parents. you had to know what happened to them. what would they think if they saw their daughter well and alive. and your friends! frederick, oscar, all of them! you knew they must've missed you. you turned to max, grinning at him as you held onto his hand,

"i want to see my parents. they have to be here." but you failed to see the way his arm recoiled at your touch, the way he stared at you as if he had something far sinister in his mind. he merely pulled off the hood of your clock and with an accusatory finger, shouted at your face,

"the witch! she's a witch! she's back from the dead!"

charles had been on the second floor of the cathedral, pressing the keys to the organ to entertain his son who looked at the instrument in awe. he nearly missed the yelling downstairs if he hadn't stopped toying with the organ. he glanced down to the main altar to find bishop verstappen waiting downstairs with his hands behind his back, a grin on his face. charles could feel that something was wrong, but nevertheless, he approached his enemy.

"what's going on outside? a commotion?" charles' inquired, patting leo's back as he bounced the infant in his arms a couple of times. he took note of the crowd outside the gates to the cathedral and he furrowed his brows, moving to investigate before max grasped onto his shoulder.

"you're free from the devil, father leclerc." max smiled and charles scowled,

"what do you mean?"

"you have such an esteemed reputation at this church," max scoffed, rolling his eyes at the stupidity of charles, "we wouldn't want to ruin it. no one knows about this child, you can't keep the truth hidden forever. so you get rid of the truth."

"i... i'm not following along, what?"

"for fuck's sake," max groaned, shaking his head, "i accused her of being a witch, of coming back from the dead. she'll be burned at the stake later today, and you can thank me for it. all your guilt, all your lustful thoughts, all of it will be gone if she's gone. perfect, is it not? i would've kept her as my personal slut like i said earlier, but there's bound to be a million other women like her."

"are you insane?" charles yelled, startling leo who began to cry, "who asked of this from you? she... she trusted you!" he gulped, thinking about how you must've felt at this moment. putting your trust into a man after he had ruined everything for you, only for this cunt to betray you so openly in front of everyone. charles' anger knew no bounds and he shoved max to the side, storming out of the church to see the sight of you on a stick, hoisted into the air. your head hung low, bruises all over your body after being being stoned and flogged accordingly to your crime. charles' gasped out loud, pushing past the crowd to see them bring you over to the pile of hay in the center of the town square, ready to set fate. he watched the other priests, ones that he knew so well, cheer on for this heretic's damnation. leo cried louder, the screams hurting his ears and charles shielded his son into his chest, and with anxious eyes faced you. with what little strength you had left in you, you glanced up to the sky with tears cascading down your cheeks, blood spilling out of the inside of your mouth and there he saw it.

no longer was the weeping virgin just a flicker of his imagination or a sight meant to fool him, she was there right before him. he could see your tears as the holy water he used in his sermons, the glow around your head ready to accept your fate. no, he couldn't do this. after everything that he had put you through, he had to redeem himself. charles would never forgive himself if he stood to the side and let everyone take advantage of you, not to the virgin mary that he worshipped every day and night.

"enough with this foolishness!" charles' bellowed, stepping onto the pile of hay as he glanced down at the crowd surrounding you. "all of you stop this nonsense!"

he took in a deep breath, waiting for each idiot to silence themselves to let him speak. "enough... what are you all doing?"

"she's a heretic!" one man cried out.

"she's come back from the dead!" another hollered.

"a witch, a witch!" the crowd chanted in unison, and charles stomped his foot and screamed,

"silence!" he took in a deep breath, glancing down to see leo staring at him with wide eyes. he always had your eyes. he gulped, tilting his head back up to face the crowd once more, "today is christmas eve. tomorrow is christmas morning. you want to mark this holy tradition with the killing of a woman? is this what our holy father has taught us?"

he watched the crowd shift awkwardly and he continued, "she has progressed much in her religious journey. she is not back from the dead. she was actually... learning the glories of our savior. listen to me, all of you, put aside your fears. she will not... she won't hurt any of us."

"then what do you expect us to do with her? she's not welcome in this village," charles' stared at the man who said this; it was your own father. he sucked his teeth in, shaking his head and sighing loudly,

"we send her to exile. she stays alive, but she shall never step foot in this village ever again." charles' declared, and despite the crowd coming to agreeance, he glanced to see you staring at him with a look of horror in your eyes. he gulped, turning his back to you as he held onto leo, hoping that the holy father would commend him for saving your life.

the wagon sat outside the back of the cathedral. it was snowing outside, too cold for leo but he had his son bundled up in the finest fabric to ensure his little toes wouldn't get frostbite. he stared at the cross from behind him. something felt... empty inside his heart. he had saved your life, but the thought of sending you to exile. it was all his fault, all of it was his fault. and no matter how long he stayed at this church, no amount of penance could save his damned soul for what he had done to you. he watched you seat yourself on the wagon, face all bruised as you weakly smiled at him.

"thank you, charles... for what you did back there." you whispered, groaning in pain as you shifted in your seat. you saw the pained expression in his eyes, and you cupped his cheek, letting him feel the warmth of you skin. "what you did charles, that was real love."

he fell to his knees at your words, tears pricking at his eyes, "no... no, don't say that. i've done awful things to you. i've been a horrible person. my lust clouded my thoughts, i... i really love you. i can't bear the thought... of... no, i can't let you leave me." he grabbed hold of your hand, bringing it to his forehead as he sobbed. his cheeks flushed into a rosy shade of red as he glanced up at you, "t-take me with you. i can't... i can't live here. not after what i've done. i'll come up with you. we can live together in a small hut, we can just be by ourselves and i'll make it up to you, i swear i will, just give me one more chance mon ange-"

"no, charles," you snapped, "no... i deserve to be free. i deserve to have the life i wanted. and as for leo..." you stretched your arms out, ready to take your infant but charles shook his head,

"i refuse. i refuse to let you go, i refuse to let you take away my son. i love both of you. just say you forgive me, say you'll take me with you."

you sighed out loud, groaning under your breath as you felt a sharp pang of pain course through your veins. you bit your lip, "i think we can come to a compromise then."

your wagon departed with your belongings. you never once looked back at charles as you left. you had said what he wanted to hear: "i forgive you. a life for a life. your debt is paid." but it wasn't enough for him. you left leo to his care, knowing that despite how he had treated you, he would never commit horrors to his child. charles could learn to properly love. you knew he had it in him. his heart was always large, always taken by emotions.

he felt too strongly. it was his curse.

he took leo back into the church, and set him down on the table right before the holy cross. he glanced up to see the holy spirit shine before him, wiping away his tears. there was still a long road for him back to salvation, but he promised that he would attain it. he would make up for all the sins that he had committed. he would spend the rest of his life craving for the love that he felt for you. if only you had stayed. the longer that he served for the church, he realized that he was wrong all along. the holy father could not save his soul no matter how hard he tried. all the countless sermons, the masses, the christmas and easter holidays, the verses from the bibles, the holy crosses, the tears from the weeping virgin, all of it was in vain.

because you were his religion.

[blue-lotus333]

Kali-Ma in (a few) different religions.

Firstly, who is Kali-ma?:

Kali-ma is the wrathful and protective force of Shakti (energy/power), often called the goddess of destruction, doomsday, transformation and time. She's a caring mother to her devotees and the destroyer of evil.

Kali-ma in Buddhism

Palden Lhamo is a protector of Buddhist & a bodhisattva associated with prosperity, protection & success

The connection between Kali-ma and the protectress bodhisattva Palden Lhamo suggests a link between the two traditions.

Palden Lhamo has many names: Sri Devi, Palden Lhamo Kalidevi, and so on.

“Palden lhamo Kalidevi” This name alone suggests a connection to Kali-ma in Hinduism. This connection may be due to the geographic proximity of the Himalayan region, where Hindu deities may have been absorbed into Buddhism.

Kali ma in Christianity

known as "Sara Kali" or "Sara la Kali," is revered by the Romani people and is the patroness of displaced people. There is a popular belief that she was either an Egyptian-Indian slave of one of the 3 Mary's or the lost daughter of Jesus.

When the Romani people were persecuted and forced to convert to Christianity, they blended their indigenous Hindu beliefs with Christian practices, creating a form of syncretism.

The name "Sara" itself is seen in the appellation of Durga as Kali-ma in the famed text “Durgasaptashati"

[tiramisuwithmascarpone]

Hello! I'm a 15-year-old devotee of both Lord Hermes and Lady Aphrodite who is raised in an extremely Orthodox Christian household, and I would like to share my story with you ⋆˚ʚɞ

Hi! for safety reasons I will not use the name I usually use online for this account, but you can call me Jellyfish. I live in Eastern Europe, more exactly Romania, a country whose population is 98% devoted to Christianity at the time of speaking. My mother is a perfect example. She wholeheartedly believes in God, I grew up with pictures of him and the Holy Mary all over the walls, which I wouldn't escape even at my grandparent's houses. My house always smelled of myrrh, I would carry a picture of God everywhere I went, I would pray to him before bed, go to church on every holiday, but I never felt fulfilled or connected to him in any way. I didn't truly know what I believed in. My mother was telling me all about how should I praise God, but I don't think I ever did it because I wanted to or felt connected to what she was telling me or felt like it was the life I wanted to live. When she would fight with my father, even now, she would threaten that she would run away to a monastery and become a nun. She thinks you cannot change your religion and you can not be Christian if you were born with Christian parents and raised in that environment. I did not have faith in God because I wanted to and felt connected to his message and wanted to worship his divine being, I did it because my mother felt that way. And that destroyed me.

As I grew older, I started believing less and less in God. I was struggling with going through teenagehood, fighting my own inner battles, and dealing with friendship that slowly felt like they were taking away my lifespan, and it wasn't just that I didn't have faith in a divine being (which is completely alright. Please do not believe this monologue is Anti-Christian, I believe everyone is allowed to believe and worship the one who they feel most connected and inclined towards.) I didn't have faith in anything anymore. When my brother reached 15, he hated my parents for their beliefs. I will not get much I detail since his story is not mine to tell, but he had battled with alcohol and substance abuse. And I was his only shoulder for him and my parents to lean and cry on. My mother told me to pray for our family, she would pray to god every day, light up myrrh, take me to churches, and I would feel miserable. I felt like an imposter in that church. I truly wanted to have faith in a god, anyone, but I felt like my only choice was God since that's what my mother taught me. Both my parents trust God so I cannot be different, can I?

How foolish I was. I can only look back to my past self and wish to embrace and hold her till she cries all her sorrow out. She was so confused.

Back in 2022, I had first heard of Aphrodite. My brother was sent to a mental hospital for his substance abuse when they caught him on the verge of overdosing. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder after a suicide attempt, autism and ADHD, but my father (who already couldn't accept the fact that my brother has ADHD) fought with them saying they ,,don't know me well enough" and,,there's nothing wrong with me". And he's right, there's nothing wrong with me. Not even If I am neurodivergent. I was at my lowest, I felt disgusting, I fought with my parents and was their therapist every single day, I stopped going to school, I was a mess. But, I was heavily active on social media because I had tons of online friends. While scrolling on tiktok, I found a video of an Aphrodite devotee. My interest was piqued. I heard about Greek Mythology before but never actually researched it. I liked the video and commented, talking about how gorgeous their faith sounds, and that's when it all started. I started getting more info about Aphrodite, the swans swum by me every time I would go to the lake with my family so we could ,,get some fresh air". I started getting lots of pins on Pinterest with her. I always had a desire for water and the beach was my safe place, where I felt fulfilled and free from all I'm feeling. I had a Dove make itself a nest on a tree next to the window of my classroom which I would always sit by while having lunch (on the rare occasions I would drop by to school). I started researching more about Lady Aphrodite, loving her story, beliefs, ways of worshipping, how it felt like silence was washing over me when I would make a non-physical offering to her. Her tales. The way it felt like she was always there to give me a warm hug and squeeze me while I was crying. I also felt a boost in my confidence! I started loving my features, taking care of myself again, etc. It wasn't always just sun and rainbows, I would still have breakdowns and wish it would all just end and all that, but it was more bearable with her. She made my life more bearable. I love, worship, and adore Lady Aphrodite for that. I worshipped her till this year when I officially felt strong enough to devote myself to her.

This year, actually, I started noticing my strong connection to Hermes. I was always attracted to the kind-hearted, mischievous, kind-hearted, highly intelligent and funny thieves. I always idolized them and wished to be like them. That's how I feel about Lord Hermes. I feel like he was reaching out to me all my life. Everything he is associated with I had an inexplicable obsession with for pretty much all my life. Turtles, golden or silver, travel, learning new languages, astronomy, astrology, everything you could think of. I have been devoted to him since last month, that's when I officially started labeling myself as a Hellenic Pagan, but I am still a beginner, and I need to hide all of this from my mother since I am afraid of what she would do if she were to find out I have another belief since she reacted super badly back when I was an atheist :( I set up the first altar for Lady Aphrodite, and the second one for Lord Hermes. I always had been an artistic soul and loved making my room all pretty randomly so I told my mother this is one of those cases and she believed it. She does not know english and is not at all cultured about any beliefs besides Christians, Muslims, and Jews. They are both hidden in my closet. I feel very bad for not being able to make them a bigger and more obvious altar, I hope I'll have that chance when I move out from my parent's house..

I wanted to ask if Lord Hermes would be mad if my mom kept setting random things on his altar? she even put a picture of the Holy Mary. I moved it to the other side of the closet and made a DIY necklace for him out of orange garnet or beads to apologize to him, and he didn't seem mad, but I'm not sure...I sketched drawings of both of them and rested them on their altars. Everything you see are either offerings I heard they may like or things that reminded me of them! the little notebook on Hermes's altar is specifically made for learning new languages and thought he would enjoy it. Do you guys think any of my offerings are disrespectful? or should be removed? I'm open to any advice! Thank you for listening to my story <3

[khaire-traveler]

As a devotee of Demeter, I sometimes feel that people only worship Persephone for the aesthetic.

I feel horrible for saying and thinking that but I can't help but feel that way. Certain pagans portray Persephone as some overpowered Mary Sue, downplaying the importance of her mother and sometimes even her husband.

I feel like people really ignore her as a agrarian deity. They claim to love her but feel the need to change everything about her - if you need to change her did you ever like her in the first place?

It honestly just feels like they're talking about a Wattpad main character instead of a religious figure at times it's so jarring to me. Imagine if someone on tiktok described their deity as a dark and daddy figure bad boy with piercings and then its literally just Jesus Christ.

And its not just Persephone, it's the whole pantheon! Some worshippers talk about the deities and their myths like characters and tropes from a telenovela. They are rarely treated like religious figures, they are more than just their myths.

Im sorry i just wanted a place to complain and see if i am not alone

---

Khaire, Nonny,

Honestly, I agree with this sentiment. I've seen this time and time again where Persephone, and many other deities, get "fandomized" which can be problematic for others, even if it's ok in that individual's practice. Sometimes it feels like our religion isn't taken seriously, even by the people who actively practice it, but I also understand that people have different forms of practicing that work better for them. It's frustrating, however, when Persephone is depicted as this Mary Sue characterization of her where she's seen as, like, super edgy, badass, and powerful in a really fandomized way. It comes across as this person using Persephone as an avenue of self-expression rather than worshipping who she actually is as a deity (not to say she's not badass or powerful, to clarify). While it's ok to use a deity as an avenue for self-expression in worship (some trans folk, for example, view Apollon as trans-masc, and it actively plays a role in their worship), it's a lot less ok when you're making this deity into a cartoonish characterization of themselves. The gods present themselves differently to people, but I don't know; I guess I find it far-fetched to believe that Persephone would present herself in this sort of way. I can't speak for her, obviously, but I just disagree with this interpretation of who she is as a deity - putting herself above others, hating her mom, being a rebellious "wild child". I think that, psychologically speaking, some people might just find comfort in this representation of her and see themselves in it which is likely why they gravitate towards it. It's fine to have that experience, but I STRONGLY encourage these people to actually read the myths about Persephone, do the research on how she was worshipped, and actively try to better understand where she actually came from as a deity because this isn't just a character in a show that you relate to; this is a goddess that you're trying to worship, no?

Some people finding more success in their practice with this representation doesn't negate the harm these misconceptions and misinformation can cause. I've met multiple people who believe that Persephone willingly fled to the Underworld to "escape" Demeter (which is untrue), and that is endlessly frustrating to me, especially due to the cultural importance of the Hymn to Demeter (the myth of Persephone being kidnapped). The gods are not their myths, in my experience, but their myths still hold a heavy importance in the way they were worshipped in the past, and the way we worship them in the present. Demonizing an entire deity is the equivalent of trying to cancel a constellation of stars; it's pointless, extremely bizarre, and very "online" behavior.

But yeah, I think some people care more about the "character" than they do the deity, and I will say that confidently. I've met people who "ship" deities with each other, who make their experiences with deities sound - as you said - like a telenovela, and who actively spread harmful misinformation about deities in a way that legitimately disgusts and disturbs me. I've once had someone tell me that a deity [insert reprehensibly immoral act here] them, and to this day, I still cannot believe they said that to me when I was a beginner, just to dissuade me from worshipping that deity. The lengths some people will go to drag a deity is honestly both sad and ridiculous.

I wish some people took the religion more seriously in the sense that they didn't just make random shit up about deities, actively disrespect and disregard the culture the deities stem from, and demonize some deities while bolstering others. It shows a level of immaturity and indifference towards the culture these deities come from. It's not a fandom; it's a way of worship.

---

✨ Bonus round!! ✨

Some ridiculous things I've heard people say that sound like a fandom and/or telenovela (I will put the phrases in "" to express that these are things I've heard, not things I'm saying or believe in):

"Hermes and Aphrodite constantly gossip to each other about the other gods. No one fucks with Hermes because he knows everyone's dirty laundry."

"Ares is starting a revolution on Mount Olympus against Zeus to take the throne." (Yes, I have really heard this)

"Hermes is starting a revolution on Mount Olympus against Zeus to take the throne." (Yes, I have really heard this, too)

"XYZ deity has done [insert reprehensibly immoral and highly traumatic act here] to me."

"I caught XYZ deity cheating on their spouse in the astral realm, and I'm going to tell their spouse."

"The reason the gods haven't been communicating as much lately is because Hades ran away from Mount Olympus (?) and Hekate is going after him. Everyone is panicking a little bit."

"Zeus is such a playboy." (Bruh, do you really have beef with a thousands of years old god who came from an extremely patriarchal society? What, are you trying to cancel him?)

"Poseidon is such a playboy." (Now this take is wild; I don't really understand where it came from at all)

"Apollo is such an UwU 👉👈 shy boy! He's so cute and flustered all the time." (???)

"Persephone has a lot of emotional trauma from Demeter, who was extremely controlling." (No. No for so, so many reasons.)

"Apollo is a himbo."

People say the darnedest things. You really have to wonder what possesses someone to talk about religious figures in such a way, but you know what, if it works for their practice, then good for them. I'm not a big fan of the fandomization of the gods, and I definitely agree with you, Nonny. I won't say these people don't love these deities, but I can understand where you're coming from. It feels like they love the deities in an obsessive fan type of way sometimes, but that's not for me to say, really.

[tamfana]

Frau Holle

Frau Holle is perhaps one of the most documented and recognizable Continental Deities. There's a lot to cover so you're going to appreciate the Read More link here, but for the uninitiated Frau Holle is in charge of:

The weather, the fae, the wild hunt, death, the milling of souls, beauty, babies, the home, spinning, chores, labor, and a slew of animals like cows and sheep.

In her most popular myth from the Grimm Brothers, she's known for guiding a girl, Marie, through the otherworld. She asks her to do some chores, of which includes shaking out a feather bed to create snow back on earth. Marie is sent home to a shower of gold and riches for her hard work. In some editions of the story, there is another girl who is lazy, and at the end of her journey in the otherworld she's dumped in pitch (sewage).

This is only one of the stories that cements her place as a goddess of weather. Her hair is sunbeams, her laundry is rain, her loom is the rainbow, she breathes the wind, her hearth creates the fog, and her sweeping causes dusty storms.

Her place as a psychopomp- reaping the souls of her dead during the Wild Hunt, causes another story of hers. As she mills the souls, separating their pieces, freeing the consciousness and reusing the soul parts of the ancestors, she also assigns jobs to the dead. In Germanic Paganism, death is not stagnant- the only few who live a lazy afterlife are those who go to Valhof. Her favorite children, her closest devotees, are chosen to cut stars out from the sky. Some hold ladders, some cut and trim with scissors, some sweep the frayed fabric.

The etymology of her name means either "loud, cheery", or "sweet". This is backed up by two things; 1, shes quite a nice lady, and 2, her month is the windy March when her breaths howl through the nights.

In another Myth, Emperor Louis the Pious (Charlemagne's son) Was hunting a white buck when he lost his troupe. He came across a grove where a wild rose bush bloomed. He knelt and prayed to the Virgin Mary that he’d find rescue, and fell asleep doing so. When he woke, there was snow all around him, despite the trees being lush and green. He took this as a sign that Frau Holle was blessing him to build a church to the Virgin Mary there, and the rose bush still stands today as it grows against the chapel in Hildesheim.

Her name bears some resemblance to the Nordic 'huldr', which relates to forest nymphs with cow tails and great beauty, which they hide with veils. Frau Holle is said to be very beautiful, her chief animal is the cow, and her maiden form is typically shown with a veil. However, there is no proof that these two are the same. I take it into consideration because Frau Holle is also a queen of the Fae and Wild Spirits.

Her sacred plant is the elderflower/elderberry bush. It's because of this that Urglaawers and some Hexe are forbidden from cutting the branches of it in fear of offending her. (and because it would rid itself of a very medicinal plant). In fact, the name for Elderflower Bush in German is 'Holunderblute'. Elderberry is just "holunder.'

The colors Blue, White, Red and Gold are chief to her. Blue and White for the snow, Red and Gold for apples (which are a preferred fruit for her, if you wish to give her an offering.) Her feast day is December 24, or Modranicht (mothers night in Germany), but she's also celebrated on Walpurgisnacht or Hexennacht, April 30 evening and morning May 1st, when she takes off for the wild hunt for the Summer. She comes back to stay for the wintertime after Alleleweizel, which is Okt 30-Nov 12.

[gravehags]

⛧⚸ gravehags' writing ⚸⛧

GHOST

sundress season - mary goore x f!reader, NSFW, MDNI

synchronicity - cardinal copia x f!reader, NSFW, MDNI

fever for the fire - cumulus x f!reader, NSFW, MDNI

i must confess to you (i want to possess you) - cumulus x f!reader, prequel to fever for the fire, NSFW, MDNI

to taste your beating heart - cirrus x f!reader, NSFW, MDNI

sweetest submission - dewdrop x f!reader, NSFW, MDNI

untitled - cardinal copia x gn!reader

this hell (is better with you) - ghoulettes x afab!reader

worship this love - cumulus x f!reader

meet me in the woods - cirrus x f!reader, regency au, NSFW, MDNI

dream (a little dream of me) - aether x f!reader, NSFW, MDNI

feel you from the inside - dewdrop x f!reader, NSFW, MDNI

i'd be your mistress (just to have you around) - cardinal copia x f!reader

the potential of you and me - phantom x f!reader, NSFW, MDNI

whatever she wants (whatever you want) - cumulus x f!reader (x cirrus, sort of), NSFW, MDNI

your sin, your preacher - papa emeritus ii x f!reader, NSFW, MDNI

give me mercy no more - cardinal copia x f!reader x cumulus, NSFW, MDNI

smitten by the blackest force - mary goore x f!reader (witch!reader), NSFW, MDNI

🌙 THE NATALIE SINCLAIR SERIES 🌙

Natalie is not entirely sure what to expect upon being hired as the Ministry's new head of curation and archiving but she certainly didn't anticipate one charmingly awkward mustachioed Satanic cardinal in her future.

dreadful need in the devotee - cardinal copia , f!oc

can’t find you in the dark - cardinal copia x f!oc

unraveling a stitch - cardinal copia x f!oc

you send me - cardinal copia x f!oc

something so precious - cardinal copia x f!oc

i am the heart that you call home - cardinal copia x f!oc

every day is halloween - cardinal copia x f!oc

take me apart - cardinal copia x f!oc (NSFW, MDNI)

traduzione - cardinal copia x f!oc

satan baby - cardinal copia x f!oc

unholy, unholy, unholy - cardinal copia x f!oc (NSFW, MDNI)

falling so badly (i’m coming apart) - cardinal copia x f!oc (NSFW, MDNI)

crimson headache, aching blush - cardinal copia x f!oc (NSFW, MDNI)

let the devil in - cardinal copia x f!oc (NSFW, MDNI)

destroying all (and make them want it again) - cardinal copia x f!oc (NSFW, MDNI)

the one who comes (richly endowed) - cardinal copia x f!oc (NSFW, MDNI)

kingdoms to fall one by one - cardinal copia x f!oc

son of perdition - cardinal copia x f!oc

all vacant and waste - cardinal copia x f!oc (NSFW, MDNI)

desinare - cardinal copia x f!oc

enter lydia - cardinal copia x f!oc

the fabric of your flesh - cardinal copia x f!oc (x cumulus x cirrus) (NSFW, MDNI)

at the altar of venus - cardinal copia x f!oc (NSFW, MDNI)

his mother's blood - cardinal copia x f!oc

hold me now - cardinal copia x f!oc

it's close to midnight - cardinal copia x f!oc

🌙 GHOUL BICYCLE SERIES 🌙

Sister of Sin Beatrice Bishop has struck up a friendship with Papa Emeritus IV's ghouls. When one of them reveals something deeply personal about her, they all take it upon themselves to give her an education she is sorely lacking as feelings grow along the way.

heaven in hiding - swiss x f!oc (virgin!oc) , NSFW, MDNI

the undone and the divine - swiss x f!oc, sequel to heaven in hiding, part two in the ghoul bicycle series. NSFW, MDNI

ain't it a gentle sound - dewdrop x f!oc, part three in the ghoul bicycle series (part i, part ii), NSFW, MDNI

waiting for you only - cumulus x f!oc, part four in the ghoul bicycle series, NSFW, MDNI

our little remedy - aether x f!oc x mountain, part five in the ghoul bicycle series, NSFW, MDNI

separated by a degree - cirrus x f!oc, part six in the ghoul bicycle series, NSFW, MDNI

naked in that garden - rain x f!oc, part seven in the ghoul bicycle series, NSFW, MDNI

feathers in our bed - transfem!sunshine x f!oc, part eight in the ghoul bicycle series, NSFW, MDNI

some know it lovingly - phantom x f!oc, part nine in the ghoul bicycle series, NSFW, MDNI

my blood is singing with your voice - aurora x f!oc, part ten in the ghoul bicycle series, NSFW, MDNI

the burn between our hearts - ghouls/ghoulettes x f!oc, final part in the ghoul bicycle series

💥 bonus 💥

dance of the seven veils - aether x beatrice, extension of the ghoul bicycle series

hot to go - cirrus x beatrice, extension of the ghoul bicycle series

my love mine all mine - cumulus x beatrice, extension of the ghoul bicycle series

what the water gave me - rain x f!reader, extension of the ghoul bicycle series

pray it all away (but it continues to grow) - dewdrop x f!reader, extension of the ghoul bicycle series

cumulus x ghoul bicycle reader (x cirrus x sunshine x aurora)

swiss x ghoul bicycle reader x aurora

phantom x ghoul bicycle reader

ghoul bicycle pack x reader with a tummy ache

aether and dew spitroasting ghoul bicycle reader

ghoul bicycle series group first date

ghoul bicycle series bonus post part 1

mini fics/prompts

cumulus x f!reader x cardinal copia - NSFW, MDNI

mountain x ghoulettes - NSFW, MDNI

cirrus x f!reader - NSFW, MDNI

cardinal copia x sister of sin!reader (part 1, part 2) - NSFW, MDNI

ghoulettes with an inexperienced reader - NSFW, MDNI

phantom x f!reader (x mountain) - NSFW, MDNI

ghouls/ghoulettes and bloodlust - NSFW, MDNI

ghouls/ghoulettes handling your depressive episode

🪦🪦🪦

ao3 profile

ko-fi page

🩸🩸🩸

thank you everyone for your continued support in letting me get both my nasty AND tender fantasies out. love you xoxo.

[33-108]

Śrīkālasaṁkarṣiṇī represents the very power of Cit, consciousness, to draw all phenomena back into itself. Her name, which means “the one who draws in or absorbs time,” speaks to her role not just as a destroyer, but as the devourer of illusion, the terminus of all karmic cycles, and the supreme feminine principle who alone can reveal the highest Self. She is Kālī, but in her most esoteric Shaiva form..less anthropomorphic, more like a force of sheer Svātantrya, or divine autonomy.

She is the very ground of liberation, a current that calls the practitioner inward to the deepest heart of consciousness, where duality dissolves. Her fierce grace is not chaotic or random...it is precise and purifying. In her presence, all temporal identities collapse. She unveils the one eternal identity that has always been: Aham, the I-consciousness, the divine "I am" of Śiva, not as something to be believed, but as something to be known, directly and bodily.

While I am a nondual mystic whose metaphysical orientation most closely aligns with Kashmir Shaivism and nondual Tantra, I engage with Christian mysticism and Abrahamic doctrine through this lens. From this perspective, Christ is not the son of God in the sense of being the only incarnation of divinity or the sole bearer of divine essence, but rather the one who fully realizes the truth of Svātantrya..divine autonomy - through Pratyabhijñā, the direct recognition that there is no separation between God and Self. The Christ becomes an archetype of the liberated being, a mirror for the process of self-recognition inherent to all.

In esoteric Christianity, the Virgin Mary is not merely a historical figure or maternal archetype, but a cosmic vessel of divine light, the Theotokos, the God-bearer. She does not just give birth to Christ externally; in the mystical imagination, she is the soul’s mother who births the Logos within the heart of the devotee. She is seen as the perfect receptacle of divine will..immaculate not merely in sinlessness, but in total openness to divine purpose. Her compassion is fierce, her purity a kind of luminous fire that prepares the soul to be wed to the divine.

Yet Mary alone is not the full picture. Christ, in his esoteric expression, becomes the Logos, the liberating gnosis, the embodied truth that awakens the soul from death and reunites it with the source. He descends into the underworld not only to conquer hell in a theological sense, but to retrieve the soul from the depths of illusion - just as Śrīkālasaṁkarṣiṇī does when she swallows time and illusion to reveal the eternally unbound Self.

When viewed through the tantric lens, these roles converge in Śrīkālasaṁkarṣiṇī. She is the mother who births the Self, like Mary. She is the liberator who shatters all bonds, like Christ. But she is more than their sum..she is the very power by which such manifestations are possible. In Tantra, the Divine Feminine is not passive or secondary. She is primary. She is both the substratum and the revelation. There is no liberation without her.

From this nondual understanding, the Christian Trinity finds deep resonance with the Trika foundation of Kashmir Shaivism. The Father reflects Paraśiva..the transcendent, formless Godhead beyond all attributes. The Son, like the realized individual in Trika, represents the embodiment of Cit that has awakened to itself. And the Holy Spirit..as the divine breath or inspiriting power - parallels Śaktipāta, the descent of grace, the Shakti that initiates recognition and transformation.

In Kashmir Shaivism, the process of liberation is not one of mere belief or faith, but of direct experience..Pratyabhijñā, recognition. It is to awaken as Cit, and this awakening is not cold or abstract - it is fiery, intimate, embodied. It comes as the kiss of Bhairavī, the cutting glance of Kālī, the soft explosion of the Spanda, the subtle pulse of awareness that underlies all movement. And Śrīkālasaṁkarṣiṇī is the great initiatrix into this fire of realization.

The Christian mystic may look to Mary for comfort and Christ for liberation. But the tantric, realizing no separation between God and Self, looks to Śrīkālasaṁkarṣiṇī to dissolve the final veil and grant the lived knowing of Svātantrya - the freedom to create, dissolve, and abide in one's own infinite being.

Thus, she is at once the womb of God, the destroyer of illusion, and the bestower of absolute sovereignty.

Aiṁ Hrīṁ Klīṁ Cāmuṇḍāyai Vicce

Om Kreem Mahakalikayai Namah

[bolszaja-miedwedica]

me: Lady Bastet is this a real deity or a trickster?

Bastet: im,,,not sure?

me: Aphrodite?

Aphrodite: omg its a trickster

me: oh thank you

me: *dances around the room with an incense stick* go the fuck away if youre not a real virgin Mary leave my fuckin house please if youre not here to help me youre not welcome

Aphrodite: amusing

Bastet: for sure

[sacredheart-stigmata]

The 'Fool of the Woods' and Our Lady of the Forest

June 17th was the Feast of Our Lady of the Forest, a lesser-known title of the Virgin Mary given following a miracle near Lesneven, France. There, in 1380, lived a man named Salaun. He was very old, desperately poor, with significant disabilities, and lived off the kindness--or lack there of-- of the townsfolk. Because of the discomfort his visible needs brought them, the townspeople detested Salaun; he made them face their lack of care for others, and they despised him for it. Despite never harming anyone, Salaun faced constant harassment, jeers and jabs and cruelty. He lived on the edge of the woods close to the local chapel, and often tried to join the town in song during mass, crying from outside the ornate doors "Ave Maria! Gratia plena!" Salaun may have had nothing in his belly, but his heart was full of the love of God, and of His mother, Our Lady. Salaun would often sit on the lower tree branches, crying out, 'Ave Maria! Gratia plena!' to anyone who walked past, singing gleefully amongst the treetops to the point that he was nicknamed the 'Fool of the Woods'. But Salaun didn't care-- he had Jesus and Our Lady.

One winter, a terrible snow storm hit. Salaun trudged his way to the chapel as best he could, desperate to hear the music, croaking out his 'Ave Maria!' The townsfolk watched from the warmth of the windows as he fell, stood, fell, stood, fell-- and did not stand. His body was buried under the snow, and no one dug it out until days later. They dragged his corpse to an old plot of land and dumped it in a shallow grave, where the 'Fool of the Forest' was forgotten.

Until spring, that is. While walking to the chapel, a family noticed a white lily blooming in the old, dead grass of the grave. They crept closer to see such a lovely flower blooming at such an odd time of year and were amazed that the snowy petals were tinged gold, the gold spelling out 'Ave Maria'. They gathered the town, and the townsfolk began to dig. There they found old Salaun's body, incorrupt, with the lily growing straight out of him from his mouth! Ashamed of their actions towards an old, poor man, they reburied Salaun and declared him a Saint, even without the Vatican's permission, and built a church to 'Our Lady of the Forest' as an apology for tormenting one of her greatest devotees.

[disabled-dean]

Oh my goodness your story is killing me. Thanking you on every platform. ❤️🙏🏻🕯️. It's so beautiful! This latest chapter!! 🥹

As a long time Mary devotee who loves her just the way she is on the show, I cannot believe you have totally sold me your vision of young Mary. You're right! It would have been nuts. Like, I see why they did what they did with Sam Smith, and I love her, but...I am picking up what you're putting down, too.

It's so cool to see from another angle so clearly.

Btw, my SPN blog is @wellofdean . Pretty sure this message is coming from my main, extremely ancient main blog.

Hi bestie!! Thank you so much <3 It's been very special to hear everyone's feedback on the story. I truly appreciate it.

I am also a Sam Smith fan! Honestly, when I started out wanting to re-cut some of the iconic Mary scenes, I tried to find stills of Sam Smith at 29(ish), but those roles for her were either pre or early days internet, or very dated.

Eventually I looked up Amy Gumenick (young Mary actress) on a whim and found out that if they had brought her back in later seasons, she would have been right around the actual age that Mary is supposed to be.

It's tricky because I also think they fully could have brought in Sam Smith and just written her character better! But she so obviously is not written as a 29 year old, apart from a couple throw away lines about the age differences.

And it's a ridiculous ask to expect anyone to work against such deeply entrenched social bias (misogyny, ageism) if the fucking script is just. Empty.

Mary's storyline is honestly so insane and very complex and it kills me that people hold her to such a weird standard of like........ perfect yet judgmental motherhood. I think it pulls back an ugly layer of how we view women (and mothers) in their 50's and what we expect or demand from them.

And I think it's just bad writing! Like I've said, Dean's internal life is also so much richer to me if the enormity of his feelings are undercut by how impossible they are.

Truly I could go on about this for a million years.

Really love hearing how it resonates with other people! I think it's easy to get stuck on the opinions in the fandom that feel so loud and harshly critical, and it's a joy to remember that many people are interested in loudly celebrating stuff that feels good and positive too!

So glad you are liking the story, thank you for the ask <3

[maidenofsophia]

Stuff About Me

Disclaimer: This is getting to be an old blog and during that time my spiritual path has taken many turns from Gnostic Christian to Filianist to Eclectic Pagan. Posts from the past might be very different from what my beliefs are today, including both religious and political.

What Am I (Currently)?

My name is Rose. For simplicity, I refer to myself as either a Sophian Witch or Déanic Pagan. My path is a bit of an eclectic mix of my religious journey so far, I synchronise what I've learned as a Gnostic, a Wiccan, a Filianist and so on but would not label myself as either of those anymore as I don't feel fully aligned with any of them.

What's a Sophian?

A Sophian is a devotee of the Divine Sophia, aka Holy Wisdom. A Sophian views Wisdom as the Ultimate face of God. There are many different versions of Sophia, from Platoism to Gnosticism to certain branches of Christianity and so on. I personally worship the TrinoSophia, or Sophian Trinity, as I believe was revealed in the Nag Hammadi texts. This being Barbelo, Sophia and Zoe.

What does Déanic mean?

While I'm not longer a Filianist, I do still consider myself Déanic. A Déanist is someone who worships the Ultimate God as the Divine Feminine. The Supreme Goddess who created all without the need for a male counterpart or Father God - Déa being the feminine Latin word for God. However, while some Déanists and most Filianists worship an exclusively feminine deity(ies), a few like myself believe there are 'lesser' gods and other entities who are children of Déa but higher than humans and some of those can be masculine or non-binary. I worship the Goddess as the alpha but also have a place for the divine masculine, not as Her equal but still worthy of respect and devotion.

Where does the Pagan come in?

It feels like the most simple and therefore truest label for me to identify with. Not all Déanists are Pagan as many prefer to mainly see Déa as the Creator but above rather than within Her creation. Personally I see Her as both within and beyond (panentheism). The Mother created and watches over us but the Daughter walks with all creation as both Princess of the World and Queen of Heaven. The other gods I worship too feel very much a part of creation. I love nature, I love animals and for me no church or temple can compare to the sense of divinity I find when just walking through the forests or gazing at the moon. And connecting my spirit to all that's around me makes me feel complete in a way Abrahamic-like theism cannot compare.

What is your pantheon?

First and foremost, I am a devotee of the Lady Sophia; divine wisdom. I worship Her in Her threefold form as I believe was revealed in the Gnostic scriptures and what I made sense of through the lense of the Filianic trinity. That being She is, in Three modes:

The Mother (Sophia, The Creatrix)

The Daughter (Zoe, whose name means Life)

The Absolute Deity / "Dark Mother" (Barbelo)

I also invoke the Seven Great Ladies, who in Filianism are known as the Seven Janyati. These are the Seven Powers that reflect the highest aspects of Déa. I use their Greek names; Theia, Phoebe, Nike, Metis, Themis, Tethys and Rhea.

For the divine masculine, I worship the Horned God. Not as Sophia's consort or equal, but one of Her most honoured children or "emanations" as both male and female and other entities all came from Her. My preferred names and forms for him tends to be Cernonnus and Gwyn ap Nudd, Celtic being my most direct ancestry. If Sophia were to be seen as a Queen, then my Lord wouldn't be Her king consort but more a loyal Knight in Her service or governing Prince.

Sophia is much more the Déanic part of my identity, and while I do connect with Her and other goddesses via nature, Cernunnos is much more the 'Pagan' side of me, being Lord of the forests and the glen.

I also invoke and honour Mary Magdalene as my Hera (a Filianic term for an ascended human soul). I believe She was Jesus' most enlightened disciple and an avatar of Zoe Sophia, the divine spark, fully realised in woman form. I worship Sophia and Magdalene as the Divine image of Mother and Child.

I also work with the Sovereignty Goddesses of the Brythonic Celtic pantheon, namely; Branwen, Cerridwen, Rhiannon, Arianrhod, Blodeuwedd, Brigid, Sulis and the Calleach.

What is your scripture?

I don't see any religious text as the definitive Word of God. I believe they all have been written by people who felt God in their hearts through their own interpretations and some I connect and find wisdom with, others I don't. I try to read all with an open mind.

Both the Gnostic texts and the Clear Recital (the Filianic Scriptures) are probably the closest to my heart and influence my path but I don't hold either to be without error.

What are your current political beliefs?

I'm very much a proud "wokey leftist", support complete separation of Church and State, am pro LGBTQ (as well as being a lesbian myself), fully support every person's right to bodily autonomy. Not to say I won't call out BS on the left by certain individuals where I see it.

Enjoy my blog!

[abouquetofdaylillies]

It's weird the things that you take abd leave from your childhood.

Like I was exploring different religious tags on tumblr, and there's alot of posts in the blasphemy tag, like sexy clergy, sex in churches, whatever blah blah. I thought it was all pretty innocuous, even saw a person who made a sex toy put of pages of the book of Mormon to make queer pleasure out of something homophobic, which I though was pretty cool conceptually.

Until I came across a gif of the face of the Virgin Mary imposed over a naked female torso with bouncing breasts and got immediately upset and left the tag.

Like want to draw a dick on the face of Jesus? Sure. Want to dress up like clergymen and get each other off? Sure. Want to make a dildo out of the pages of the Bible? Who cares it's an inanimate object.

But maybe it's because I'm a Marian devotee, or was raised Catholic and was taught to always venerate the Virgin that it made me upset. Which I can't tell you a precise reason it did, I worship the Virgin as one of the many feminine aspects of God, eternal and unmuteable, what does it matter if she's depicted as a naked woman? Is there anything dirty in nudity, sex or a female body? No. But it still bothered me and it's interesting that I know there's no reason to be upset and yet I still am.

I was raised Catholic, and never really ""left"" the church or disowned it....I just stopped going once I entered my adulthood. I became reconnected to the divine on my own by creating an altar for Our Lady of Guadlupe and the saints when I was 21. I engage in a private, quiet form of worship. I do the occasional candle spell, and do simple divination with tarot. I make offerings of wine, candy, fruit and incense.

I feel very connected to Her and to my own womanhood and heritage as a Mexican woman.

But besides that, I'm not very catholic at all. Never once occurred to me to abstain from sex or masturbation even though I was constantly told to. My only shame about sexuality has to do with porn consumption and the perceptions of others, but I've never felt ashamed for wanting.

So it was strange, the sudden appearance of my catholic rage after many years. I'm my mother's daughter, a summation of my experiences.

I am who I was and who I will be.

[santoschristos]

Quan Yin~~VASE WITH HEALING WATER

Quan Yin carries the Goddess and Divine Mother aspect of Buddhism. The same Goddess and Divine energy carried by the Virgin Mary in Christianity. In the Egyptian mysteries it is carried by Isis. In Hinduism it is carried by Shakti, wife of Vishnu, by Parvarti, wife of Shiva, by Radha, wife of Krishna, and by Sita, wife of Rama.

Quan Yin’s name is a translation of the Sanskrit name of her chief progenitor which is Avalokitesvara, also known as Avalokita. Avalokitesvara and Quan Yin are embodiments of compassion.

She is roughly equivalent to Green Tara in Tibetan Buddhism.

As the Bodhisattva of Compassion, She hears the cries of all beings. Quan Yin enjoys a strong resonance with the Christian Mary, the Mother of Jesus, and the Tibetan goddess Tara.

In many images She is depicted carrying the pearls of illumination.

Often Quan Yin is shown pouring a stream of healing water, the “Water of Life,” from a small vase. With this water devotees and all living things are blessed with physical and spiritual peace.

“The Goddess Kwan Yin is known as the Goddess of Mercy and Her specialty is compassion, for She knew all about suffering. In Her first life in India She was born as a male named Avalokitesvara, who sought to help poor lost souls be reborn to a better life on their journey to enlightenment. But he was overwhelmed and anguished when more lost souls kept coming in what seemed an endless cycle. In his despair he shattered into a thousand pieces.

From his remains they shaped him as a woman, a Goddess — more suitable for bringing compassion and mercy into the world, they thought.

They gave Her a thousand arms and eyes in the palms of each of Her hands so that She would always see the people’s distress and be able to reach out to encircle them.

Then they sent Her back to earth to do Her work. So successful was She at comforting the people, that word of Her began to spread to other lands and other religions. ‘We need Her here,’ the people cried.

And so She went, reincarnating Herself wherever She was needed. Known by many names and stories in many places, She was revered as a Buddhist deity and then a Taoist one.”

Painting in Dunhuang Series by Zeng Hao

[ya-mri-ya]

hi! i have been interested in filianism but can’t seem to find much literature about it. could you please share your sources, if any?

Well, it really does not have that much published literature. From my understanding of the history of the movement, it was frequently held belief that a certain degree of privacy is to be valued, and whatever was circulated was done so among a small group of people.

For context, here I shared some of the story of my arrival at this faith, which is to say that my response is ultimately that of a person who happens to connect with divinity in a way that matches Filianic belief, and not of someone consciously seeking a purely feminine spirituality to begin with.

Of what is widely accessible, I personally consider The Clear Recital, its chief scriptural text, spiritually inspired but ultimately a subjective syncretic essay. You may come across various versions that differ in content and wording. Broadly speaking, to consider oneself a Filianist, a person would be expected to have a belief in a feminine divinity in a trinitarian form, with a focus on the Daughter figure, and to hold said text in some regard.

For a plentiful source of information from within the community - though, of course, you are not obligated to agree with it on everything, - visit Chapel of Our Mother God. They also have some sources provided, that, in any case, agree with the way the authors approach the faith

Now I will add sources I personally found to be a wonderful expression of our interaction with the Holy Mother: Gnostic Thunder, Perfect mind and On the Origin of the World; The first chapter of the Thelemic Book of the Law (it so happens that my brain just seems incapable of connecting with masculine spirits, go figure); The Way of the Rose; Liber 49; and most marian writing and practices. Just read up on Her miracles and apparitions. Pray the rosary. Listen to Her devotees. Oh, American Brujeria by J. Allen Cross has just a beautiful chapter on Mary. Some of the literature dedicated to Her is, granted, a patriarchal imposition of the character of a traditional, obedient Catholic housewife on the figure of Mary, but we here, I hope, all have enough sense to tell the difference.