#resistance magick

[cavorta]

July 29, 2023 Have a good weekend and a blessed Lammas/Lughnasadh if you celebrate it.

I have created a Sigil for Climate and Environmental Protection and it is free to use (not commercially). Here you can read what went into it and download printable files: https://cavorta.substack.com/p/sigil-for-climate-and-environmental

[khulthuskaotika]

Nosso Deus não é crucificado

Nosso Deus senta num Trono de Pedra Negra e Ossos.

[elhoimleafar]

WITCHES are the change. We are the protectors and the fierce guardians standing between oppression and liberation. Witches have always been on the frontline fighting for a better world that embraces justice and equity. Let's reclaim the power and stand together. Our magic is strongest when it's used to uplift and empower those around us. Together, we can create a ripple effect of positive change

Our power isn't just about resistance. It's about lifting each other up, amplifying the voices of the marginalized. When we stand together, we become an unstoppable force for a brighter tomorrow. Let's reclaim our power with confidence and actions in the physical world, not just for ourselves, but for the generations to come ✨

Witches, let your voices roar! It's time to raise power and support each other and use our voices, and platform for a purpose bigger than us.

Witches are not 'thoughts and prayers', witches are ready to burn, curse and destroy the enemy whatever it takes ✊🏾✊🏿✊🏻

Xxo. Elo 🌙🔥🐍

[skeletonpandas]

[wildwitch-artandmagick]

[missmonsters2]

What We Are

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda discovers all the things that Vision's done for her that have made her heart flutter was your idea.

Warnings: it's not angst...but it's not not angst. Also not beta'd.

Note: why do i feel bad for stealing vision's thunder. Also I will fix my mistakes later when I mortifyingly see them later :-)

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was a Tuesday when Wanda dropped by. 

The rain had been pouring relentlessly, and she had magicked herself to your front door, but even so, she was still soaked to the bone. It was late June and just a few minutes past dawn when you heard the hesitant knocks on your door. 

The years of working for Stark have made you paranoid as you check through the peephole carefully to see who could be at your door. Your heart constricts momentarily when your eyes land on familiar red hair and those melancholy green eyes. 

You opened the door, swallowing as you took her in. Drops of rain dripped down her cheek, almost like tears, as you let her in. 

"Wanda," you blinked, the questions building in your mouth but unsure which would come out first. You settled with, "let me get you a towel."

You opened the door wider to allow her to slip through wordlessly before shutting and locking it with a soft click. The rain outside pours relentlessly that it almost feels deafening in the silence. 

She stood in the hallway between the kitchen and your living room. Wanda looked around the quaint home you've built for yourself and felt even more lost. 

You returned with a dark navy towel, sighing as you sling it over her wet head, gently drying her hair. "What's the point of using your magic to get here if you're going to get soaked outside anyway?"

Wanda didn't say anything, just allowing herself to be under your care. 

This is familiar. 

It was a time before Vision and just a little after when Wanda began to see him too. Then, it was Vision's job to take care of Wanda, and all of it went away—you went away. 

"You should take a hot shower," you told her. 

"I don't really catch colds anymore," Wanda mumbles softly. 

"Lucky you, but you're still dripping on my floor and your nose is all cold and red. I can't imagine the rest of you is toasty warm," you smirked at her, and Wanda wanted to tell you that the tip of her ears was hot, but then she'd have to admit she was blushing. 

You guided her upstairs to the bathroom, gave her a towel and a set of comfortable clothing, and told her to use anything she felt like using. Once she finished, she could meet you downstairs, where you'd be making breakfast. 

Before you left, Wanda's quiet voice stopped you. "Thank you." Her voice is hoarse like she's about to cry. But it was sincere, and you gave her a light-hearted smile to put her at ease. 

"It's good to see you, Wanda."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wanda's skin feels warm and soft, the bath doing her wonders. She hoped you hadn't been waiting too long, but Wanda couldn't resist taking a soak first. She wiped the bathroom mirror of the fog and looked at her reflection. The bath helped return some color to her skin, but she still looked tired with her dark circles.  

Wanda only towel-dried her hair just enough to ensure it wouldn't drip on your floor. She felt only a little embarrassed to be given clean underwear by you but not a bra. The clothes you give her are soft, comforting, and smell like clean linens and leaves. 

This is crazy, Wanda thought. 

She hadn't seen you in months, and prior to that, it was always sporadic and brief. 

Wanda hadn't known what compelled her to show up at your door, but she knew much of it was due to loneliness. 

Everyone was gone.

But Wanda had hardly slept and hated how Scotland looked suddenly and decided that Portland would be better—Portland—where you've been living for years. 

The smell of bread, honey, and mushroom soup filled the air when she left the bathroom. Her stomach rumbled unabashedly, and she was glad you couldn't hear it. As she entered the kitchen, she found you chopping dill and parsley. 

"Hey," you looked up at her, smiling as she fidgeted with the ends of her sleeve. "Have a nice bath?"

Wanda nodded, giving you an awkward jilt of her lips meant to be a smile. "Thanks. Did you need help with anything?"

You shook your head. "Should be finished any moment now. I wasn't sure how hungry you'd be with it being so early but I thought something warm would be nice. Why don't you take a seat? I left out some bread, butter, and honey for you."

Wanda felt something crawl at the back of her throat as she sat. It was such a traditional breakfast, and it reminded her how Vision once tried to make paprikash for her. 

"I'm sorry," Wanda said suddenly. "For just showing up here."

You were silent. The sound of your chopping paused momentarily before it resumed again. "It's fine," you told her. "I mean, I wish you'd call in case I wasn't home. It would've been awful for you to stand out there alone."

But Wanda didn't know how to explain that your unused phone number was more daunting than just showing up. She didn't know how to explain anything. 

"Are you not often home?" Wanda asked instead.

You hummed. "Not often, but occasionally I do consulting work for some non-profit companies. It gets boring being retired sometimes."

Wanda nodded. 

It was lonely being retired alone. She had looked around your house and found no pictures or indications that you might've been seeing anybody. It brought forth something strange that she didn't know how to identify, so she placed it aside to be forgotten. 

It was quiet again, and Wanda felt restless. There were just so many feelings inside that she couldn't sort them. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream. She was relieved. She was anxious. She was a mess.

"Breathe, Wanda."

The words were unexpected. She sharply looked up to find you not even looking at her as you squeezed lemon juice into the pot. 

Taking a deep breath and releasing it quietly, Wanda was pretty sure she just wanted to cry now. 

"I'm sorry," Wanda repeated. She didn't know what else she could say. "I know it's been a while since we've last seen each other—spoke to each other. And now I'm here, and I've shown up unannounced and taken a bath, and now I'm wearing your clothes—I must seem crazy to you."

You just started to laugh, coughing lightly to cover it up when she gave you a look. "You don't have to explain anything to me," you told her, stirring the pot before grabbing some plates. "I know it's been hard."

There was a pause as if you were hesitating to say it before you decided to. "You miss Vision."

The words instantly hit the back of Wanda's throat and made her eyes water. "Yes," she could barely get a single word out.

"I know," you told her softly as you came over with a bowl of mushroom soup that looked amazing, but all she could smell was her own salty tears. 

Wanda couldn't hold it in then as she placed her elbows on the table, her face in her hands as her shoulders wrack. "I can't believe they're all gone. I keep waking up and expecting to see him. I feel like I can't breathe. It's not fair. It's not fair."

You rubbed her back, and she leaned into you, the familiar feeling of it all like it was just yesterday she was at the compound, alone and confused after losing Pietro. 

Wanda didn't even know what you did for Stark, but you were always around. You showed her to her room, gave her Tony's stream services passwords, and gave her a list of all the shows and movies she was to catch up on. 

Wanda wondered where all of that went, and she could only vaguely remember ending when Vision was beginning. But Vision was different. He had said something so profound that it had given her the courage to keep moving on. 

"I know," you told her, brushing your fingers through her soft, damp hair. "You have a lot of love to give and nowhere for it to go. It's just what grief is, Wanda. And if you're grieving, then you're persevering."

Wanda stiffened in your arms. 

It was so familiar. It was just a rewrite of words she's heard before—words she had never told anyone else. 

"Did Vision tell you that?" Wanda thought wryly as she straightened herself to look at you.

You looked momentarily confused before guilty and awkward. You let her go, but Wanda hung on. 

"Did he tell you?" Wanda pressed on. "Those words—did he tell you that they were the biggest reason I could keep going?"

Wanda looked so angry. The idea of being betrayed by someone she loved sharing something so private had you sighing. 

"No," You reassure her. "Vision didn't tell me."

"Then why—"

"I told Vision that." You cut in, the words leaving your mouth in a tumbled mess that was awkward and clearly made you uncomfortable. 

Wanda sat there with mild shock on her face.

"You...?"

You rubbed at your brow, taking in a tired breath. "Vision was very interested in you, and he came to ask me why you were silently holed up in your room. He knew what grieving was, but he didn't understand it like we do. Not yet, anyway," you muttered.

Wanda looked at you. You looked tense and reluctant to share any of this information, and she didn't understand why.

"I told him because you were grieving, but you also still had love to give. I told him he doesn't understand yet because he's always been alone and is lucky to have never lost anyone. You can't grieve what you've never lost," you had a distant look in your eye, and Wanda wondered if you were reliving this conversation with him.

"I told Vision that you were going to be okay, though," you shook your head as if brushing the memory away. "Grief was just love that had nowhere to go; it is persevering through loss." 

The words rock Wanda much harder than they did years ago. Maybe because the truth behind the words that had given her way when she was lost was actually from you. 

You, who let her show up at your door unannounced. You, who would always let her show up at your door unannounced. 

You have always given her a way to remain still, a way to return, and a way to move forward. 

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" Wanda's voice cracked.

It cracked because perhaps before Vision, she thought there might've been you. It never came close to anything, but Wanda still felt it. And that's why she showed up at your door on a Tuesday in late June just a few minutes past dawn. 

You shrugged. "You seemed interested in Vision too. Curious, at the very least. We...I never really knew what we were. Friends, I think, at that time. Just barely, though."

Wanda remained quiet. The mushroom soup was going to go cold soon, but you didn't seem to mind as you tore a part of a piece of bread into uneaten chunks. 

You seemed thoughtful. "I used to think we were just a case of 'almost'. Almost friends. Almost teammates. Almost something and almost nothing." You turned to her and gave her an unsure smile. "But now you're here on a Tuesday when I had been considering an hour before you arrived that even almost is gone."

Wanda replayed the words in her head and felt the unease she was experiencing the last few months slip away. She's still grieving, but just as you said, it was just her love having no place to go. 

But...

Wanda looked at you as she took hold of the spoon and scooped some of the soup up. She's sure in time, her love will have a place to go again. 

"Did you tell Vision anything else?"

You smiled at her as you also began to eat. 

"I told him you'd appreciate paprikash. I can't take responsibility for him following my instructions wrong, though."

[astra-ravana]

The Basic Principles Of Spellcasting

Law of Similarity

These first two principles are from James Frazer's The Golden Bough and are fundamental to all of magick. Frazer describes this law as "like produces like" . This law says that manipulation of an image or likeness yields manipulation of the thing itself. Here's some examples of the Law of Similarity:

• Stabbing a human-shaped figure with nails or pins to cause pain to the person

• Drawing the practitioner holding their love interest by a leash in a "love leash" spell

• Writing a spell in a circle around someone's name to encircle or restrain them

• Putting a love spell that aims to make the target "burn with love" into a candle flame or oil lamp

• Walking upon a written spell to have the target "underfoot" and under your control

Similarity isn't restricted by literal similarity, it extends to metaphorical similarity as well. Idioms and puns were widely used in Egyptian myth and magick.

Law of Contagion

Frazer puts this one quite well: things which have once been in contact with eachother continue to act on eachother. One can extend this law to say that magickal energy can be transferred or shared between objects by contact and that transferal is strongest if they are in contact or extremely close. Examples include:

• Using the hair of a target in a spell or curse

• Writing a spell to a deity on the hide of a corresponding animal

• Burying a separation spell at the home of a couple to affect them

Hair is super useful (and sometimes required) for any spell targeted at someone. Some even keep or trade hair as collateral.

Note:If you need to perform substitutions in a spell, use the Law of Similarity and Law of Contagion for selecting the substitution, (ie: use red wine mixed with an animal's hair instead of blood from that animal).

Law of Durability

This law is basically covered by the Law of Similarity, but, because it's so important for picking components, it is being included separately. Magick done with more durable components will yield a longer lasting effect. For example, a spoken spell will be weaker than a spell written on parchment. The written spell will be weaker than a spell carved into wood or stone. This applies to enchanting as well; more durable items will stay enchanted longer.

Law of Layering

The Law of Layering must be applied carefully as it is about complementary layers, not throwing a bunch of stuff at a wall. The principle is the more layers that are used in magick, the stronger the magick will be. More layers build more power. Some ways to add layers are:

• Having a pre-spell ritual like bathing and meditating

• Cast spells in a designated space for casting with items designated for magick

• Make motions that mirror the words you're saying

• Add components to your spell via the Law of Similarity, the Law of Contagion, or objects along your correspondence.

• Perform the spell with a group as opposed to solo

• Reinforce a spell by doing it for multiple days, weeks, months, etc. (as in 'once per')

Law of Likeliness

One could compare magick to stacking a deck; you're manipulating chance to get circumstances to fall in your favor. This means two things. The first is magick cannot make the impossible happen. Magick is unlikely to cause things to levitate, or conjure fire from nowhere, or anything that isn't possible in our plane of existence. The second is, if an outcome is less likely, stronger magick is required to achieve it. Some decks are just easier to stack.

Law of Agency

No magick, short of possession, can fully rob a human of their free will. For example, if you cast a love spell on a target who's sexuality doesn't align with yours, it will have little to no effect. If a person is resistant to a certain energy in their day-to-day life, they will similarly be resistant to that same energy when sent via magick.

[maziecrazycloud]

“Led Zeppelin are gods among men, and Aisling Cowan in their queen.”

-

In May of 1971, CREEM magazine’s journalist: Oliver Thorne set out to try and discern just who Aisling Cowan was, the elusive female guitarist of the intrepid LZ. Here is his interview and cover of LZ’s performance in Usher Hall, Edinburgh, Scotland. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

-

(OBVIOUSLY ALL OF THIS ISNT REAL FOR LEGAL REASONS) I hope you guys like it though. Both Aisling and Oliver are my OCs that I have created for the story I have been writing known as “Forest of Time”. In which a girl from the twenty first century gets pulled back into 1969 by the Seelie Court of Fae. She get sucked into the world of rock n roll when she meets Jimmy Page by chance. Or not👀. Strange magick is afoot. She changes history on accident and becomes a part of LZ, for good or worse. I haven’t written this specific part of the story yet. But I couldn’t resist creating just how much Aisling changes history. Enjoy!

Here is the link to my story if you’re interested!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42940200/chapters/107881455

I really flexed my understanding of newspapers and i love CREEM, so ofc I had to make an alternate universe version of the magazine to fit my AU of Zeppelin! Cheers and Dark Tidings.🎸👹 (this may be the best thing ive ever made)

-

Article below!

Non vintage textured illustration of Aisling✌️

[sspacegodd]

The common denominator.

[cavorta]

May 12, 2024 Magical activism Ivy the Occultist writes: "Calling all occultists, witches, spiritualists, or anyone who is in tune with the spiritual power they carry... THIS IS A CALL TO ACTION! Use the sigil provided in this video in whatever magical working (or spell, or ritual) you are doing to provide safety and comfort to innocent lives trapped in Gaza."

(Btw, I am not going to discuss the politics of this conflict here, this spellwork is about innocent lives who are in mortal danger.)

[elfiewhore]

Mommy domme elf story

Hello my dears and darlings! Finally, the long promised elf mommy domme story is here! Or at least, the first two chapters. As I began writing I realised that this idea had a firm hold on my mind and I want to write a slow, lewd and enticing tale. So that means this will be part 1 of ? - The first two chapters.

Please feel free to give me any feedback and/or tell me what you'd like to see next! This story is written from the perspective of the reader as the member of an adventuring party. The gender and name of the protagonist is purposefully left vague which, while it does mean some specific descriptions will be a little nonspecific, hopefully means that you can easily identify yourself in the story <3 This story is strictly 18+ and contains/will contain content including but not limited to: Humiliation, peeing, diapers, AB/DL, gfd, age regression, crossdressing(depending on how you identify), chastity and monsterfucking. All that out of the way, without further adieu I give you the first two chapters of my as-yet-unnamed story!

Chapter 1: An unexpected parting “I’m afraid I cannot continue along this path. To be quite frank you are all far too reckless. The strain it places upon me is far greater than any I have faced before. I wish you well, but I must depart.” That was the last words of your party’s healer, a priestess sworn to a god of healing. She was your last resort, having had to beg for the mercy of the church to provide her services free of charge. And she wasn’t wrong. Your party are notably reckless, charging headlong into combat without a second thought. This devil-may-care attitude had at first earned you some renown, as your bravado led to taking on the most dangerous of missions posted in the Adventurer’s guild. Slaying harpies, undead, and even a gryphon! The stuffed head of which is now resting within the guilds’ storage as collateral for your replacement arms and armour after the last debacle. Not that it was your fault, mind! You were always good. You listened to the numerous healers that had come and gone through your party. Standing where they wished, protecting them, ferrying potions. You were always their favourites, it wasn’t fair that the others always dragged you down. But you couldn’t leave either, the reputation stuck. You sent out subtle enquiries to other famous bands only to be rejected at each turn. Even the less reputable groups required steep entry fees as ‘insurance’ should they require costly resurrection magicks. Truly it was a terrible situation. And now here you were sitting in the foyer of the guild. The wooden walls of this esteemed establishment groaning under the weight of trophies and banners of heroes long past. They did little to inspire as you sat with your chin in your hands, waiting for a representative from the guilds’ treasury so that you can convince them not to repossess your equipment. “Just give ‘em the puppydog eyes. No one can resist those!” Your group had told you. And this was also true. It wasn’t your fault that you weren’t especially strong or imposing. It was useful for fulfilling your role but unfortunately led to you often being underestimated or treated childishly. Your mind swirled in a thunderstorm. Travelling without a healer was tantamount to a death sentence. Out in the wilderness, even the smallest cut could lead to a life-threatening infection. Not to mention mummy rot, lycanthropy, wyvern stings. Everyone had a role to play and you were missing one. “Excuse me. Is this the Adventuring Guild?” Came a breathy, soft spoken voice. Airy and light. You glanced up to see a woman standing before the desk, speaking to the clerk. Your breath caught for a moment in your throat as you took her in. Long, beautiful hair the colour of spun gold and braided with gems that glittered like stars tumbled down her back like a waterfall, framing the back of this curvy, enchanting figure. Every movement, no matter how small, was performed with effortless grace as she rested a staff of living wood against the desk. Atop it rested a crystal so pure one could see right through it, and silvery threads of magicked metals intertwined with the knots and whorls of the staff. Pretty (and valuable) as that staff may be your eyes refused to be pulled away from this woman. Clad in a robe of forest greens that flowed about her as if pulled by an unfelt breeze. Trumpet sleeves made of thin, almost translucent fabrics revealed pale and unblemished skin. But most notable of all, perhaps, were her ears. An unusual thing, one might thing, to focus upon. But the tips were long and pointed. 

An elf.. you think to yourself. A rarity to be sure. These reclusive, powerful creatures lived for millennia within their enchanted forests and reclusive holds. To see one traveling the world was an unusual sight indeed, for they often cared not for the affairs of men, halflings and other mortal beings. Content to remain within their own communities and spend their time plumbing the depths of the arcane and the nature of the divine, among others. “Yes this is the Ad-” the clerk stops, their eyes widening as they look up at this woman. “H-How may I.. Help you?” “Hehe! Oh please don’t be alarmed, sweetie. I don’t bite!” The woman’s voice again, a soft whisper. The susurration of a blanket being draped around you. “I’m only here to see if any parties are in need of a.. Oh what’s the word in this era.. A physiker? No..” “A healer?” Your eyes widen. That was your voice. Why did you speak? You groaned internally. Drawing attention to yourself never ended well. The figure turns, blessing you with a radiant smile. “Yes! Oh thank you!” Her eyes regard you from above as you are given a chance to look upon her face. Flawless as the rest, her eyes were a strange cavalcade of colour. At once purple, then gold, then blue as they took you in. Though no wrinkles could be seen, for elves are forever youthful, her countenance held a certain age to it. A wisdom beyond your own. You attempted to be polite, to meet her gaze. But that was difficult at the best of times and you were somewhat distracted by the revelation that her dress did little to contain a bountiful chest. The creamy pale skin stark against the deep green dress. It did not look ill-fitting, mind. Simply.. This woman’s bust demanded attention. Her ruby-clad lips draw your eyes northward once more. “My my! Let me help you with that!” She coos, in a voice tinged deeply with maternal concern. She reaches down and cups your cheek with a touch so delicate and warm you at once wish to melt into it. Your face had been rather beaten up in the last adventure, and with none to restore your vigor now you simply had to patch them up. But now the aches subsided more swiftly than they had ever before. Not just those upon your face, as the elf whispers her magic, it travels through your body. Soothing the woes of fatigue and injury. Even old wounds you had long since accepted receded before her radiance. Her hand pulls away and you can’t stop your face from following. Unbalanced, you collapse upon the floor with an embarrassed groan as you are snapped back to reality. A sound graces your ears. Like a babbling brook meets the chime of crystals. You realise she’s giggling. Your cheeks flush red as you rush to your feet. 

Her laughter stops as she looks genuinely apologetic. “I am sorry, little one. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It was simply.. Cute.” Normally being called such a thing enraged you, frustrated you. But now… It felt comforting. “It’s okay.” you mumble.

“A-hem!” a stuffy voice draws your attention. You see the stuffy mustache first, like a hateful caterpillar resting upon the craggy face of a mountain filled with debt. The treasurer. “You again. I told you before if your party cannot prove to this guild that you are capable of finding a consistent and reliable healer to prevent any further deaths we will be forced to repossess the equipment we have graciously provided! I shan’t hear any more arguments or delays! So I ask for a final time. Have you a member capable of sealing wounds and ensuring your survival?” their stern gaze pierces you and your words wither in your throat. You tried to muster some kind of response but all that begins to croak out is a pathetic “N-no..” “Now now!” A scolding voice rang out. “There’s no need for that! No matter how urgent you feel your issue may be there’s no excuse for snapping! Or being impolite! If you must know ‘tis I that has joined this worthy band of warriors and, personally, I believe you would scarcely find a better purveyor of magicks and mending than one of my people. Now unless you would doubt the provenance of my ability, I have matters to discuss with my noble companion!” It was the elf. When did- You didn’t ask her to join you?! You barely spoke a word to her. And yet here she was, standing beside you with an arm protectively holding you against her side. Your cheek presses against her soft, warm breast through the thin fabric as you are held with a surprisingly firm grip. 

Chapter 2: Mommy’s home

The elf, whom you learned was named Nimue, was true to her word. Requesting (or gently demanding) to be taken to where your group were staying to introduce herself. She was apparently a mage of great renown amongst her own people who had left the isolation of her home to travel amongst the younger races as, in her own words, she ‘missed the energy and vibrancy of youth’ You couldn’t very well say no. You needed a healer. Furthermore elves legendarily had little need for riches which was a source of great frustration for any trader that fancied trying to arrange a trade deal for their crafts. So payment seemed not to be an issue. Dutifully you returned to the house your party had purchased many moons ago. Now somewhat dilapidated, the garden overgrown. It made you well up with shame to bring such a perfect and ethereal figure to this place. But her face remained impassive as she was led inside not that the interior fared much better. Broken bottles, dust, overturned chairs. Too often had your party returned here either too tired or drunk to care about cleanliness and it had become simply a part of the decor. First to meet you were the leaders of your band. A pair of twins, one a swordsman named Krennan and the other a channeller of barbaric rage named Mithra. “Well now, pipsqueak. Who’s this you brought with yo-” Began the swordsman, only to be cut off. “I think that’s quite a rude nickname to give someone, don’t you think?” The elf’s voice came in clipped tones, her hands on her hips. “How would you like it if someone called you pipsqueak, hmm? Just because you’re bigger doesn’t mean you get to bully others you know!” The twins look stunned. Confused. They hadn’t even exchanged names and already this lady was scolding them like a schoolteacher. “Well? Not to mention the absolute state of this abode. I’m told you are the ‘leaders’ of this little group? Hmm? Well I don’t see much leading if you leave this place in such a mess!” You couldn’t help but smile, though you attempted to hide it. To see these two being taken down a peg was… Wonderful. You glanced up at this woman, this saviour and your heart leapt just a little. You clung to her side even though you technically could have left at any time. Nowhere felt safer than right here, especially after her gentle arm almost habitually draped itself around you. “Now do either of you have anything to say for yourselves?” Her voice never raised, not once. But the tone, the power, the authority. It was all that was needed. The duo mumble and hang their heads, somehow cowed by this beautiful stranger. “Now apologize.” She commands. Krennan begins to mumble but withers under her gaze. “S-Sorry for calling you a pipsqueak.” He says a little more clearly. “That’s better. Now dearies. Thanks to a certain someone here-” she announces, rubbing your arm affectionately. “-I am your new… What was the word again in this era?” She asks you. “Healer” You say back up to her, feeling an utter rush of pride that you could be helpful to her. Especially as she beams back down at you. “I am your new healer! I’ll make sure you’re all back in bed safe and sound each and every night!” Her words are accompanied with a happy giggle. “But first sweeties, I think we need to do something about this mess, don’t you? After all. Cleanliness is next to godliness! So come along, pick up a brush. No dillydallying!” She ferries you and the other two further into the house, ushering you like children.

The next few hours consisted of chores. Cleaning the house, trimming the garden, dusting every inch that could be dusted. Your other companions - A scout named Callie and a sorcerer named Ilnax, were roped into the affair with sleepy confusion. That they fucked regularly was the worst kept secret in the group and today was no exception. But Nimue had some kind of.. Allure. Power. Nothing magical, you don’t think. Simply an aura of maternal authority. You found yourself eager to please, trusting that she knew best. And before long, the house was transformed. No longer a dilapidated sty, it looked somewhat close to actually livable! “Okay sweeties! Well done! I’m so proud of you! Teehee! And now it’s bath and bedtime for all of you!” That snapped some of them out of the strange spell she had woven. “Bedtime? We’re not-” Began Callie, only to find Nimue’s smiling face gazing down at her. “I am responsible for your health and that begins with a good and consistent sleep schedule! I’m told you four are constantly staying up far too late. This won’t do, so long as I’m here you will sleep at a reasonable hour! You wouldn’t want to die because of a silly mistake you made because you were cranky, would you?” 

As usual, you were last for the bath. You were used to it. The others simply barged their way past you to take the hot water for themselves. As you stepped into the bathroom you blush as immediately you realise that Nimue is also in there, standing near-naked before the tub. You never thought you would see an ass that perfect but you could probably bounce a gold coin off that thing as silken underwear are nearly swallowed by the cheeks. She turns with a yelp, covering her bare chest but then chuckling and dropping her hands revealing perfectly pink nipples. “Oh, it’s just you! Hehe! Close the door silly.” She says with a chuckle. Your cheeks burn, not just because of her nudity but how somehow you don’t count as someone she would be embarrassed by. As if she doesn’t see you as an adult that would find such a sight enticing. But you find yourself closing the door. “It’s getting late, so I thought I would join you in the bath! That’s okay, right? No one changed the water so I did it myself and added some firestones. It should be nice and warm! C’mon!” She beckons, turning and slipping off her panties before climbing into the tub. You debated leaving, but why should you? She was inviting you in. And the water was literally steaming hot. You hadn’t had a warm bath in so long. You realise that while you had been debating internally your body had made the choice and you were already sinking into that warm, steaming water. The tub, small as it was, would only fit if you sat between her gorgeous thighs. They cushioned your hips like pillows as she wrapped her arms around your stomach, pulling you back against her to give you a hug. Her breasts squishing against the back of your head as she does so. “I’m so glad I found you, little one. This was just what I needed! Oh this is going to be a wonderful, wonderful time!” She coos, bringing some water up and beginning to wash you. Overwhelmed, you simply sit still. It was nice, finally. To have someone stand up for you, take care of you, protect you. Finally you could just relax. Just.. Relax.. “Ooop! It looks like someone’s having a bit of an accident!” She titters. Your eyes flutter open as you look down and to your utter horror you see between your legs a definite tinge of gold in the water. Did you- You pissed yourself! You immediately try to scramble out, stammering an embarrassed apology but again those powerful arms keep you still. “Shhh…” She soothes, softly petting your head. “It’s okay. I understand. You were relaxed. Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” She whispers into your ear. “I’ll take care of it. I promise. But for now.. We should make sure there’s nothing else in there, hmm?” Unsure of what she meant, you simply settled back into the water as her hand trailed down between your legs. You tense as she touches your most intimate place, but quickly relax as her gentle hands slowly start to rub and tease you. “W-What are you…” “Helping you relax.. Shhh..” She whispers into your ear as she continues just gently touching you. Holding you in a motherly embrace as her delicate strokes make you shiver so sweetly. You had never been touched like this. So carefully, tenderly. Not trying to simply get you off as quickly as possible. But wanting to fill your mind with a haze of pleasure. It was overwhelming. It was everything. You settle even more comfortably against her chest, half turning to nuzzle into her breast as she holds you close. “That’s my little champion. My brave heroic adventurer! You’ve done so much, such a good job! Now just relax. Let me take care of you. Let mommy take good, good care of you now…” Those words reached your ears and swirled into your mind. Soothing all worries, caressing your anxious soul. You didn’t even realise when you felt your hips lift and grind against her hand as you cum for her. She was taking care of you now. You were hers, happily and hopelessly hers. You could never have imagined how far that would go. 

[st-danger]

(Hi @forlorn-crows, this one's for you. Content warning: consensual quintosis and sedation.)

Aether knows what Rain's looking for tonight, of course. He is well aware of the things Rain wants specifically from him. Not all the time, of course, but enough. Enough where he recognizes the particular look he graces him with, searching and questioning. A need, really, and who is Aether to ever deny him that? He couldn't. Could never resist the opportunity to be inside him.

Not just inside, but inside.

He looks at Rain, lying next to him on a too-firm hotel mattress, hair still damp from the post-ritual shower he's taken. He smells of the rosemary mint hotel body wash, and underneath that, the beginnings of arousal, just barely enough for Aether to scent. Naked and lovely and waiting for him. Aether's been waiting for him, similarly undressed, similarly needy for what they're about to do. It's a deliciously depraved thing, he knows. He also knows Rain can't get enough of it, even as he draws a leg up to hide, arms folded over his chest. It's perfectly fine with Aether. He likes to watch exactly what happens next.

"Go on and ask, love."

Aether inches forward, closer, reaches out and holds Rain by his slender throat, firm enough to make his eyes go fractionally wider. Unconscious, Rain's tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"Make me your toy," Rain whispers, eternally shy when made to say it aloud. Aether smiles, needs no further convincing.

Hand still on his throat, he draws magick from the air, and lets Rain feel the barest hint of something warm and wonderful seep under his skin, before pulling it away. Repeating. Teasing him with it until Rain's shivering and curling in towards him, looking imploringly into his eyes.

"Aether," he begins, in the same, soft tone, "go on and-"

In a heavy rush, he lets it all inside at once, as much of the electricity he can spin from the world around him, and Rain moans, eyes fluttering, lips parting, and loveliest of all, limbs going slack. The pleasure Aether begins forcing into him, and the heavy fog his wraps his head in, starting at the base of his skull and growing to envelope his mind, sweeping down each vertebra-

He looks instantly stupid.

Aether reaches a single finger out and draws it along parted lips, feeling. Indulging himself. He feels he's allowed, to take as much time with Rain like this as he wants. Certainly nobody's complaining; Rain's too drugged to talk, but as Aether wiggles two thick fingers between his teeth to fuck his mouth, petting at a tongue so wet and soft, Aether makes sure he can still moan like a whore for it, even if he's too fuzzy to completely understand.

"There we go," Aether coos. He can't wait to hold Rain's face, press on the joint of his jaw so he can fuck into his mouth shallowly, demand Rain suckle on the head like the sweet thing he can be. Drool all over it.

Aether withdraws his fingers, wet with his spit, and smears it over Rain's lips. He watches as Rain's eyes struggle to open, and shoves them back inside again, rougher now because Rain will take it. He'll take anything Aether wants to give him, actually. That's the sickeningly delightful purpose of this, making him a pliable tangle of limbs that Aether will arrange as he pleases, for Rain's too dazed to do anything other than let it happen. It's a good thing he's here to help him. Of course.

When he pulls his fingers out for the last time, a dribble of drool follows, leaking out the side of his mouth and Aether groans, loving the way his pink mouth shines with spit. The way Rain's eyes try to focus but stay so cloudy it's impossible, pupils blown against the light of the iris, obvious.

He pushes himself up and eases Rain onto his back, pulling his arms apart, grabbing the hand closest to him and bringing it to his groin, forcing Rain's hand to rub against his cock. Forcing him to feel. It pulls a weak noise from Rain, who's head presses even heavier into the pillow, turned into it. Drooling on it. Fucked up and stupid and Aether should feel bad about how much he enjoys this. Possibly. He isn't sure there's a reason for him to, with the enthusiasm the ghoul before him pursues it, but surely it's understandable to feel a teensy bit guilty about loving the ease with which he can push Rain's legs apart, spreading and exposing him and the only thing Rain can manage is weakly reaching for him before Aether wraps a hand around his cock to force him hard. The first few strokes see his arms falling against the bed, too much effort to hold up. It feels too nice to lie there brainless while Aether's watching the head peek in and out of the foreskin while it slowly rolls up and over and then all the way back again.

Rain makes a gurgly, hurt noise as his cock fills out, twitching to life in Aether's capable hands. Faster than normal, but Aether can't stop himself from letting the hypnosis speed it up, convincing Rain that it feels so much better, so much more intense. Convincing his body, which trembles finely, that it needs to be hard immediately, that when Aether lets go, his cock needs to throb and bounce around while it does. Searching of his own accord for friction. That it needs to be nice and sticky at the tip, because it's a sight to watch it drool like his mouth. Matching.

"Alright, love," Aether says, bringing a finger down and sliding it between his cheeks. Rain's head lolls to the side, eyelids heavy. The pad of his finger strokes against his hole, tingling. Pressing against it to suggest, the sensation making it flutter involuntarily. "Go on and ask."

Tongue too thick, ready to stumble over his words, Rain reaches with obvious effort to try to wipe the spit off his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Use me?" he whispers.

[elhoimleafar]

All Sisters, brothers, friends! Don't underestimate the power of your voice, and don't be afraid to raise your voice witches! Speak out against injustice. Whether it's through fierce conversations, creative expression, or acts of resistance and defiance, let your voice be a beacon of hope. Inspire others to fight for the world we all deserve, a world filled with compassion, respect, love, and unity. ✊✊🏿✊🏻

Witches, let your voices roar! ️We have the power to speak truth to injustice, and that power can ignite change. It's time to raise power and support each other and use our voices, and platform for a purpose bigger than us. ✊🏾✊🏿✊🏻

Xxo. Elo 🌙🔥🐍

[skeletonpandas]

[bigcowboydyke]

about your disability pride month post: is there anything important/significant you think people should take notes on when writing a character with an upper arm prosthetic? (like starting from the elbow if i phrased correctly)?

Yeah! I think the biggest is that you ought to consider first, esp if its an OC, your reasoning for making the character disabled- you wanna make sure you're not fetishizing or exploiting their disability to prop up abled characters. I've got a list of questions for authors to ask themselves along those lines that I can post or dm

Secondly, you have to consider what level of realism you wanna go with. If you have a character where, in universe, the prosthesis functions in exactly the way an arm does, you could just go with that if you want - it's the path of least resistance, right? BUT you ought to consider that most prostheses in media exist in that way AT THE EXPENSE of good representation of disability. Erasing disability or "curing" it with magical prostheses IS a form of ableism that is so pervasive it just goes unnoticed by most. I believe personally that disabled bodies are worth portraying well even when the creators of the source material did not do that. SO if you want to go with real well thought our representation, here are some common things I think authors and artists often miss (specifically as it pertains to upper limb prostheses):

1) I already said this, but seriously, I cannot emphasize enough that upper limb prosthetics ain't cheap and are usually uncomfortable. Your character, if they are poor, or even like middle class, won't have access to multiple high tech popular mechanics cover story type robo arms. Even if they did ...

2) Not all limb different folks use prosthetics! I personally have used multiple and I disliked them. I tried very hard to learn, but there are multiple requirements to be able to use each model and sometimes, a lot of times actually, limb different people - especially people without a hand or an arm function Better without prosthetics. Be aware in your art that limb different people are Whole. How you ask can somebody without an arm, say, do all that stuff?

3) Consider the idea of adaptation in your writing and art instead of relying only on magicking disability away with prosthetics. Disabled People live in a world full of barriers and tend to be Very creative about navigating it, adapting to our environment through just being a little clever about how we do things is the biggest way i see other people with upper limb differences interact with the world. There are three main ways that we go about this without prosthetics: Using adaptive equipment, Finding an alternate method, or as a last resort, asking for help.

Example 1: I have like 1.5 arms ok so obviously only 1 hand, and I need to clip my fingernails every once in a while. The obvious solution to me, while it may seem gross, is just to bite them off. Bad habit, but efficient. I could use those horrible little nail clippers, with my remaining stump and a little finagling but it takes forever. I could also get some adaptive nail clippers - they make great big handled ones for ppl that can't grab the little ones. Or, I could ask my partner to trim them, but I'm usually too proud to do that. Let disabled people have their flaws too lol!

Example 2: I love to rock climb. This is where adaptive equipment comes in. I could slip off a rock climbing wall pretty easily right? So bouldering (rock climbing without harnesses) is totally inaccessible to me. But if I go to a gym that has harnesses, then that's fine - they catch me if I fall and that's adaptive for me.

Adaptive equipment comes in many shapes and sizes and can be regular items repurposed.

3. If after all that you Must create art or write about an OC or preexisting character that uses upper limb prosthetics, consider that in general, limb different people's prosthetics are not equivalent to having two arms. Prosthetics are only practical for limb different people if they enhance your life or are useful in some way, however, getting one high tech enough to do that is unlikely because they are expensive. There are different groups, clinics, and charities that make lower cost options but they tend to be much lower tech than is depicted (and often are clunky). My first prosthetic was a long flat piece of metal, similar to a doctors tongue depressor, attached to a plaster cuff velcroed around my stump. The idea was that since I had a little bit of stump poking out, I could pin objects against the metal and it would work like a crab's pincers. It was okay, but I did accidentally smack many. Many. Things with it, including my own face and since it was metal, that was unpleasant. Obviously hindered more than helped. Also it did not look even remotely like a hand.

4. Which prosthetics you can get generally depend on what you got on you. Literally. Bodily. With upper limb prostheses, If you don't have an elbow or wrist, your options are almost exclusively limited to the pricier electric options that are both super futuristic, unavailable to many, and also like new car priced. Many of the manual, non-electric models depend on the ability to flex a wrist or elbow, so if you have those things are a little more accessible overall. It also matters whether you are born limb different like me, or if you are an amputee. Amputees are more likely to be candidates for prostheses than people like me because they have all those preexisting muscles and nerves for prosthetics that are higher tech and require surgical attachment Also prosthetics might be an easier learning curve, and more useful for somebody who has been abled bodied than it would be for somebody who never had that limb in the first place.

5. This is a little thing and ... Not to get too medical with it ( and neither should yall) but limb different people often have physical changes associated with lack of or loss of limb. If you do not have a limb, you are not going to be developing the muscles that are surrounding it in the way an a nondisabled person would. Again for example I have 1.5ish arms which means I've got plenty of stump on my "affected" limb. Even when I did Varsity sports and everything, I was never able to get beefy on that side. It is a pet peeve of mine that many people do not seem to get this - Most art I see of vash the stampede has him with two super beefy shoulders and like yeah i get it that's hot, but if hes got roughly the same amount of stump as me, he probably shouldn'tlook like that. Another thing in this vein is chronic pain is associated with limb loss and limb difference- I have it and its reasonable that any prosthetic user or nonprosthetic using limb different person is more likely to have it. Again these are little things but if you're looking to do good representation you need to consider that limb difference is not just a cool little stylistic choice to make a character look tough or what have you - limb loss and limb difference mean that that character will not only think differently than abled bodied people, but move differently, pose differently, have different routines and preferences than are ever represented in most media. Disability is not a style, and it's not a diagnosis, it's an identity. It's important above all to be respectful of that by letting go of centering able-bodied expectations and aesthetic in your art and writing. Hard to do but i believe in y'all!

Hope that helps! I've also got a bunch of links to go along with these points, if you want them lmk! I'm always happy to take asks about this stuff!

Tl;dr please consider making characters that don't use prosthetics, or don't use them excessively because it's more realistic, better representation, and makes me, a disabled dyke on the internet, really happy.

Lastly if y'all liked my advice and appreciate my time you are always welcome to tip me for it - my c*sh*pp is $neptunedrive

[propheticeve]

Hoodoo is CLOSED to non black AMERICANS

Hoodoo is distinct in that it involves working with specific ancestral spirits and deities, many of whom remain unfamiliar to the broader spiritual community. This sacred connection extends beyond mere knowledge; it is an intimate relationship with spirits deeply ingrained in the Hoodoo pantheon. These spiritual entities are closely tied to the experiences of Black Americans, and understanding them requires a profound awareness of one's lineage.

:

Hoodoo is considered a closed practice, meaning that access to its teachings is earned through guidance and mentorship. True practitioners are taught; they don't self-proclaim. Unfortunately, there is a concerning trend of non-Black individuals claiming to practice Hoodoo without a genuine understanding of its essence. Many cannot name a single spirit from the Hoodoo pantheon, exposing a significant gap in their knowledge.

It's crucial to distinguish Hoodoo from general folk magick practices. Hoodoo demands practitioners to delve into their lineage, understand their history, and grow in spiritual wisdom. The conflation of Hoodoo with generic folk magick demonstrates a lack of comprehension about the unique cultural and historical underpinnings that define Hoodoo. Hoodoo requires knowledge of the American slave trade and its affects on black Americans

Ancestral spirits within Hoodoo are discerning entities, recognizing color and lineage. Contrary to the notion that spirits lack prejudice, Hoodoo practitioners assert that ancestral spirits work closely with their descendants. Given the historical context of slavery and oppression, it becomes inconceivable for these spirits to collaborate with those from the very lineage responsible for their suffering.

:

Unlike some other African Traditional Religions (ATRs), Hoodoo has resisted commercialization and exploitation. Its practitioners emphasize the sanctity of their belief system, urging others to respect and protect it. The appropriation of Hoodoo by those outside its cultural lineage is viewed as a disservice to its profound spiritual significance.

:

Hoodoo is not merely a set of rituals; it is a sacred tapestry woven with the threads of Black American history, spirituality, and resilience. The claim that anyone, irrespective of background, can practice Hoodoo disregards its closed nature and the imperative to honor its cultural specificity. It is time to acknowledge and respect the boundaries of Hoodoo, safeguarding its authenticity and the spiritual legacy it represents.