#Also like I am in no way an expert on the history of witchcraft; it is really not my specialist subject | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dirtbagprometheus · 2 years

Text

Introduction

“O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.”

— William Shakespeare, Hamlet Act 2, Scene 2

Hello and welcome, you can call me O or Prometheus or really anything you fancy as long as it's respectful. There is quite a bit of information both above and under the cut for those interested in having a contextual understanding for the rest of the blog. For quick summarization:

About The Creator---

22 (June Gemini Gang 😼)

He/Him; They/Them [any masculine or neutral pronouns are fine]

Bisexual/Queer

Mexican American; Latiné (Mexicano Indígena)

INTJ; 1w2; Tritype: Technical Expert (135)

Main: @prometheuslovechild

If you know me from outside of the Tumblr ecosystem in any way whatsoever… no you don’t 👀 (message me though lmao)

Condensed Academic Background---

Doctoral Degree in Science and Technology Studies

Concurrent with Law Degree

Law Degree with an emphasis in Science and Society

Concurrent with Doctoral Degree

Dual Masters Degree in Folklore and Museum Studies

Current Research in Folklore Studies - Analyzing The Role of “The Witch” in Fairy Tales as A Catalyst Figure Current Research in Museum Studies - Impacts of Advertising on Science Centers and Museums Thesis: Fairy Tales As A Method For Social Change

Masters Degree in Physics

Conducted Research in Theoretical Cosmology; String Theory and the String/M Landscape Thesis: Tying The Knot: Understanding the Theoretical Frameworks of String Theory to Create New Methods For A Grand Unified Theory

Undergraduate in Interdisciplinary University Scholarship

Primary Concentrations in Astrophysics, History (of Science; Historiography; Intellectual), Museum Studies, and Philosophy If you’re curious about my degree or university experience please ask me! There’s much more to it, but my primary concentrations tended to be the largest focus. I love talking about my academic undergraduate experience and academics in general! Conducted Research in Particle Cosmology Conducted Research in Magical and Scientific Beliefs During the Renaissance Period Thesis: The Thread That Ties; An Anthropology of Religion, Science, and Witchcraft

I do advising and mentoring for undergrads - dm's/asks are always open if you’re seeking advice on basically anything.

I am also human, which means I have struggled with my fair share of exams and classes before but I'm persistent to a fault and it's gotten me this far so hopefully I can help out when needed.

Tl;dr: A wannabe academic tries to start a studyblr.

(Tag Navigation + more under the cut)

Tag Navigation---

#academiacore: Miscellaneous thoughts relating to academia, schooling, and the like.

#dirtbagprometheus: Original studyblr content.

#dirtbags spotify: Spotify playlists I've made and published thus far and general song recommendations and rants.

#journal: Excerpts from my journaling I feel the need to put out there.

#personalityprocastination: An over analysis of personality quizzes or traits as a way to feel productive while procrastinating my actual tasks.

#prometheus vents: Rather self-explanatory, ramblings on whatever happens to come to mind.

#reblogs: Reblogged studyblr content.

#reminders: Advice and motivation.

#research: Ramblings on my research or reblogs of research I find interesting.

#writing: Excerpts from my different wips and writing content.

Interests [which you can find more about on my main or other sideblogs]---

Aesthetics: I’m quite obsessed with the concept of aesthetics in the current age of social media and will probably write about it quite a bit. For those interested in aesthetics, my aesthetic has been called by those who know me, a mixture of chaotic/dark academia meets punk all tied in a western bolo tie. Do with that what you will.

Fashion: I have always had an interest in fashion and garment construction, during the March 2020 quarantine, I started working on starting a brand as a way to stay busy. Here’s my fashion sideblog @houseofapotheosis.

Films: A wide variety of films. I don’t use it too much but if we’re mutuals and you want my Letterboxd, ask!

Music: My music taste runs rather diverse, but I tend to fall into more alternative genres. My current most listened to spotify playlist is here.

Politics: I will bring up politics when I feel necessary because it is necessary. All are welcome here and discussions are always ready to be had as long as all parties are respectful and civil. This is not a space which supports conservative or alt-right beliefs.

Philosophy: Not much to say, but I’m always interested in doing philosophical deep dives and want to use my philosophy degree for something.

Reading: reading is my lifeforce and will always bring up a reason to rant about books. Here’s my StoryGraph.

Religion: I love talking about religion and spirituality and will probably discuss it at length when I want to. This is to say that people of all religions and spiritualities are welcome here and kindness, common sense, and civility are expected. If you are ever curious about my thoughts on religion or spirituality asks and messages are always open.

Writing: Shuffling 20 or so wips around on various topics and writing styles. If you’re curious about my wips, ask me! Here are some of my current wips below

Book: The Thread That Ties; An Anthropology of Religion, Science, and Witchcraft (working on turning my thesis into a book!) Journal Article: Everything's Open, But Some Things Are More Open Than Others; The Fight For Open Access Information in Academic Circles Poetry: Epithets; Finding The Divine in The Mundane

Purpose for blog creation ---

The short and simple, I started this blog as a way to rebuild myself after a strong bout of burnout. I’ve been hyper driven and ambitious since I was quite young and have always struggled with the workhorse mentality. I haven’t had a moment of rest probably ever and want to use this blog as a way to develop a healthy relationship with academics, career, and myself. Along the road I hope to share my experiences and help others that are going through similar things.

Welcome to my academic labyrinth of a blog, enjoy your stay, don’t get lost, and I'll see you around the woods.

- Prometheus

Last Updated: Wednesday June 7th, 2023

1 note · View note

ultramagicalternate · 3 months

Text

ULTRAMagic Alternate Lore 13 - Witch’s Covens

Previous | First | Next

Master Post

Disclaimer: I do not claim to be an expert on Witchcraft or Wicca, for I am an Occultist and an Alchemist. This is also primarily a work of fiction. Regardless, I will do my best to represent the subjects discussed as accurately as possible with obvious and expected creative liberties. If you are an expert on these subjects and wish to provide critique, you are more than welcome to do so.

- - - - -

INTRODUCTION

Alchemy and Necromancy have always been persecuted throughout history… people fear what they do not understand. Alchemy has been labeled as heresy and necromancy has been deemed as blasphemy of the highest degree. And at its worst, some have labeled them as mental illness in the modern era. This has led to many mages and scholars of the arts keeping to themselves or going underground. The most noteworthy types of underground organizations for magic are brotherhoods, orders, and covens.

Covens are an interesting anomaly amongst magic circles. They are predominantly female, but have allowed men for a variety of reasons (family, lovers, outcasts, etc.). For a long time, these fellowships were ignored by the rest of the world. They were able to keep a low profile on account of no one taking them seriously. If everyone believes you are nonsense, then why worry about what you study and practice? Several covens have even gotten to the point of rivaling some of the most noteworthy brotherhoods and orders of magic.

THE HISTORY

The 900s AD were when the term “witch” started being used to describe female practitioners of magic, to our current knowledge. The word could refer to a “wise woman,” while the old English roots of the could mean “separate” or “choose.” Typically it was reserved for practitioners of magic and sorcery. Despite the negative connotations assigned to them and occasional conflicts, things stayed calm. Fellowships of female mages (witches in particular) studied in relative peace and kept their eyes open for potential neophytes. Jumping ahead to the 1500s, the term “Coven” would pop up in reference to these fellowships of witches. Many witches took a liking to this concept and adopted the term as their own.

In 1556, a new coven called “The Devil’s Brew Coven” was formed by a woman named Aelia Albus. She was an alchemist from ancient Rome who had the privilege of studying under Hermes Trismegistus. Aelia had long since created a Philosopher’s Stone and had a desire to spread her knowledge. As for the name, Aelia was still brooding over the fall of Rome and felt edgy that day. Plus she wanted to spite the churches as she felt they were bastardizing Rome’s legacy. In regards to the founding of the coven, Aelia had stumbled on a group of witches one day and decided to whip them into shape. She would teach them alchemy and the ways of Hermes Trismegistus, allowing the coven to grow and flourish.

THE 1600s - EARLY 1900s

The 1600s were turbulent for two reasons: Witch hunts and The Death Knell Coven. The churches of Europe had decided that they had finally had enough of the covens and went after them. Many were wiped out or forced into hiding. Aelia had grown fed up with this nonsense to the point of wanting to leave Europe. Her goal was North America as it was mostly untamed. She doubted the colonists would give them too much trouble and was legitimately interested in learning from the indigenous people.

Fortunately Aelia had come to know a shaman whose name is lost, but translated to “Great-mind.” Great-mind was more than happy to help her get settled in. The only issue was getting to America. Not many would be willing to transport a coven of witches across the Atlantic. This is where the wanderer, Ellen the Wayward, came in. She knew a privateer, Captain Rowena Murphy, who would be more than happy to transport them across the pond.

Of note is that the Devil’s Brew Coven merged with an obscure guild of alchemists right before the journey. Funnily enough they had been accused of witchcraft. Aelia was more than happy to welcome them into the coven.

The journey to America would be undertaken in 1636. Ellen led the coven to Ireland where they would board Rowena’s ship, The Grim Rover. Aelia asked Ellen if she wanted to come with them, but she had many things to tend to in Europe. The trip was not an easy one. There were several storms and many run-ins with the English and Spanish navies. Rowena even stumbled across her former pirate captain. He was in a jolly mood and helped escort The Grim Rover as they were going in the same direction.

Upon reaching the new world, Great-mind was able to secure land for the coven, which benefited her tribe greatly. This area would be in New Hampshire, close to the Appalachian mountains. Things would settle down once everyone was all moved in… up until the Salem Witch Trials. The Devil’s Brew Coven had been scouting in the area until they found a coven practicing black magic… so they blew the whistle on them. This somewhat backfired, as this led to the formation of their eternal enemies, The Death Knell Coven.

Dealing with the more chaotic indigenous tribes, The Death Knell Coven, and The 13 Colonies made Aelia realize she had opened a massive can of worms… The Revolutionary War was not fun given that the coven had previously fled Europe, especially the English. Typically Aelia stayed out of the war, but would assist General George Washington whenever she could. She even became friends with him as he was more enlightened then he initially seemed. Sadly he died before she could teach him how to create a Philosopher’s Stone.

Oddly the Civil War was fairly uneventful. Aelia knew the country would reunite under the Union eventually and bided her time. Thankfully the influx of Africans did allow for shamans and tribesmen to introduce new insight and knowledge into the coven. Aelia also happily recruited any foreigners who were willing to learn and study with the coven. Mind you she was selective given the discipline needed for her teachings, but that did not stop people from joining.

THE 1900s AND THE WORLD WARS

Arriving in the 1900s, The Devil’s Brew Coven finally returned to Europe by way of the European branch. This was led by Ragna Eklund, a descendant of the Aesir and the Tuatha De Danann. She claims that Cú Chulainn was her grandfather and there is a lot of evidence supporting that. Getting back on track; Ragna would discover the Wicca, descendants of Anglo-Saxon sorcerers. They had gone down a similar path to the witches, causing her to recruit them to rebuild The Devil’s Brew Coven in Europe. Aelia was pleasantly surprised by this, having had no idea what Ragna was doing.

It should be noted that Witches and Wicca, while sharing common goals and philosophies, are distinct from each other. Witches typically study the occult and hermeticism while Wicca study subjects such as paganism. Many true witches and Wicca do not consider most modern witches and Wicca to be legitimate mages, citing that many claim to be these for the clout and self-gratification. While their hearts are usually in the right place, they typically lack the discipline to study magic. That has not stopped true witches and Wicca from tutoring some of them into proper mages, however.

Returning to Ragna, she would keep Aelia updated on The Great War and the eventual World War II. Aelia would promptly blow a gasket when she learned that the Germans were bastardizing the occult. Her Roman blood was pumping like a roaring rapid, causing her to directly seek out the German Anomaly Investigation Group (or G.A.I.G., pronounced “Gauge”). She was on the warpath and headed over to Europe with utmost haste with G.A.I.G. in tow.

Aelia and Ragna were ruthless and responsible for wiping out many Axis covens all across Europe. Strangely a lot of them were in the Balkans, but that did not make a difference. During this campaign, Aelia had called upon the demon Amon for help. He was privy to certain knowledge, alerting her and G.A.I.G. to an Axis coven in Serbia that had been trying to harness the power of a celestial dragon that had been expelled from Heaven. They promptly double timed it over there and found utter chaos.

A girl named Morana (surname unknown) had been successfully bonded with the dragon, but was in rebellion towards her captors. She escaped on account of the G.A.I.G. operatives refusing to shoot an innocent girl. While the ritual had gone through, the Germans did not get their hands on the dragon in the end.

Aelia and Ragna were able to draft some innocent witches from the destroyed Serbian Axis coven. Chief among them was Galina Zharov, a recently resurrected lich. She was beyond confused to be alive again, but graciously accepted Aelia’s help in getting back on her feet. Galina had knowledge of the other Axis covens, allowing Ragna to have a field day. This also greatly expanded the roster of the Devil’s Brew Coven.

POST WORLD WAR II

Aelia’s concern was that the Death Knell Coven was active in Europe and this suspicion was confirmed. There was evidence all over the place to suggest that they were responsible for convincing so many covens to ally themselves with the Axis powers. The Death Knell Coven had naturally allied themselves with the Germans, but were smart enough to cover their tracks. Despite Ragna’s efforts, she was only able to wipe out about 75% to 85% of the European sect of the Death Knells.

Aelia and Ragna would frequently cross paths with Ellen the Wayward during the war. The three would do a great deal of things behind the scenes, the most notable event being helping Vlad III Dracula rescue Spiritus Lapsus Fausta from the Germans. The resurrected and now nigh immortal voivode had turned over a new leaf of sorts and was in love with Fausta. He also sympathized with the fallen Spiritus Magni, refusing to let her fade away into obscurity. His past brutality could not be forgotten, but Aelia could not ignore such a noble cause.

Before leaving Europe, Aelia would ask Ellen once more if she wanted to join The Devil’s Brew Coven, but she turned her down again. Despite Ellen growing tired of Europe, she still had things to do… again. She was also being stubborn as a result of nervousness. Aelia would promptly go over her head and make her an honorary member of the coven.

Jumping ahead to the 1970s, Zoltan Dracul (son of Vlad III Dracula and Fausta), would become friends with Ragna. This led to him becoming an honorary member of the coven. Zoltan would ask the coven to let his newly wed wife, Morana, join them in the 1980s. Aelia and Ragna were apprehensive as Morana was a bit of a rogue. Galina, Morana’s former mentor, would advocate for her. This did not stop Aelia from having a gut feeling that things were going to get hectic, however.

THE MODERN ERA

Morana naturally had to push the coven’s patience by starting her ultimate weapon project. Compelled by the dragon sealed inside of her, Morana would bear a child who would be a human in body, but dragon in soul. This boy would be named Vlastimir Bartholomew Dracul. Aelia nearly blew a gasket over this, but Zoltan promised to keep the two on the straight and narrow. Plus a good chunk of the coven thought Vlastimir was an utter cinnamon roll (despite his madness).

Aside from skirmishes with The Death Knell Coven and assisting M.A.I.G. with their missions (pronounced “Mage,” and the successor to G.A.I.G.), not much has happened for the Devil’s Brew Coven. Things were calm… up until Bethony Briggs resurfaced in New Hampshire during the early 2020s. She had been a witch that had died during the Salem Witch Trials and was blasphemously resurrected by the Death Knell Coven. Ragna was busy dealing with Vlad IV Dracul (the illegitimate child of Vlad III Dracula) during this period, so she was of no help. Aelia would deploy Morana and Galina to help out against Bethony from the shadows. Zoltan would also be there, so she figured it would go fine.

With the chaos surrounding the Briggs family in full swing, the Devil’s Brew Coven has been thrown back into the heat of things. This has led to some interesting opportunities for them. Because of ULTRAMagic Shadow’s involvement in the Bethony incident, Aelia now has the chance to work with the ULTRAMagic Guild. She’s also very interested in the Unlight. While she is tight lipped about it, it is suspected that Aelia wants to move all of her coven there. They would be safe, protected by the guild, The Iron City, Shadowland, and The Metal Empire. Plus Aelia and Ragna are growing tired of Earth’s petty conflicts.

TRIVIA AND FACTS OF INTEREST

Ragna is an odd individual. She’s 234 years old and has a strange aberrant ability. Her aptitude is Alchemy, but she has the ability to make anything work. What does this mean? It means she can take any amalgamation of parts and make them do something. Guns that are impossible to use fire perfectly and vehicles with broken parts go as fast as they can. All she has to do is turn them red with her Alchemy and they work. They cease functionality when she stops using them, however.

Aelia has reached a point where the only thing that can stop here is a doomsday weapon… of which she has her own, or at least she claims to. She realized a while back that the world is always gunning for her and she refuses to take that sitting down. Whether or not she would actually activate this supposed doomsday weapon is up for debate.

Galina was very close to Morana before the dragon ritual. Morana was a slave, but Galina felt bad for her and made her life bearable. What ended Galina was her own hand after she found out her coven had joined the Axis powers. This is also what pushed Morana over the edge. Fortunately the two can now pursue magic in relative peace. Galina has also found another lich who she has taken on as an apprentice.

Ellen had crossed paths with Aelia long before the Devil’s Brew Coven, given her constant wanderings. While Ellen was never one to settle down (until the modern era), she always wanted to join the coven deep down. Aelia would rectify this once Ellen settled down in America and established her company, Arcane-Life. As a result of this, Arcane-Life helps fund The Devil’s Brew Coven.

Vlastimir is considered an honorary member of The Devil’s Brew Coven. When he was young, Galina promised to look after him if something ever happened to his parents. As a result of this, Vlastimir views Galina as his aunt. Galina has also promised to do her best to keep his uncle, Vlad IV, away from him for obvious reasons.

Great-mind is immortal in a sense. She cannot die… if she does, she will resurrect somewhere else in due time. This led to her tribe being shunned by the majority of other tribes, viewing Great-mind as a being of ill-omen. How she attained this weird immortality is unclear and even she’s not sure herself.

#chaotictempleknight #ultramagic alternate #fantasy #sciencefiction #sciencefictionfantasy #literature #fiction #writing #lore #writers on tumblr #alternate history #lore post #witchcraft #witches #wicca

1 note · View note

the-busy-ghost · 3 years

Text

Not to bring everyone down this evening, but I feel like it’s worth reminding people:

When a lot of historians say stuff like “Witches weren’t actually burnt they were hanged!” they are probably- though not always- referring specifically to England and Wales* (possibly also America, I don’t know much about things over there).

Sad to say witches absolutely WERE burned in Scotland, Iceland, and many countries on the European continent, although in some places they were often strangled first.

It is good to see that certain misapprehensions about the English witch hunts have largely been corrected in the public imagination. But this is probably one of the key examples I can think of where people have said “XXX happened/never actually happened” in history when what they mean is “XXX happened in England” in history and this specific aspect often gets lost when the statement circulates outside of its original context.

#Death tw #Torture tw #historyblr #history #witch trials #When someone says something about the past always ask 'when/where'#I often forget to as well but this is one of the ones I KNOW is actually not 100% true #Especially given the fame of the North Berwick witch trials and the effect James VI had on witch hunts in England and further afield though #You would think people would remember that it is not necessarily the case that no witches were ever burnt #Also like I am in no way an expert on the history of witchcraft; it is really not my specialist subject #And for me it marks the beginning of a really dark period in my country's history #Like Scotland was always violent and unkind to women in particular and persecution for witchcraft had occasionally happened before 1590s #But the North Berwick witch trials sort of symbolise for me the beginning of a hundred or so years of other strife too #The seventeenth century saw famine; religious war; witch trials; executions for blasphemy; and all in all it really wasn't a good time #I've already had it up to here with the fourteenth and the sixteenth centuries- generally I can't take much more Dark Times #So I leave the late witch trials and the seventeenth century up to other people #Hanging is really not better than burning btw I'm not implying that simply that this is the truth of the matter #This is not a moral argument this is literally just correcting inaccuracies

12 notes · View notes

lulu-zodiac · 3 years

Text

Hidden in Plain Sight

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Jeremy Bradshaw

Tags: Early seasons Dean, pre-podcast Professor Bradshaw, denial, unresolved sexual tension, bickering, smut, gratuitous owl references, case fic

Summary: It's the fall of 2006, and a string of grisly deaths linked to local lore brings Sam and Dean to the village of Bridgewater. There, Dean finds himself working closely with the frustrating and unexpectedly compelling Professor Bradshaw.

---

Dean feels about as comfortable in old colleges as he does in churches. There’s the same sense of exclusivity, that same reverence of things Dean has spent his life stuck on wrong side of. This campus even feels a little like a church, with its old architecture and sprawling ruby ivy and slit windows like narrowed eyes. His footfalls echo heavily along the cold stone corridor, making him feel uncomfortably aware of his own existence.

The door he’s looking for is old and made of oak, nestled in an alcove near the staircase, with a small plaque on it that reads Professor J Bradshaw.

Dean pauses for a moment, then knocks abruptly, suddenly noticing his knuckles are still smudged with earth. From within, a muffled voice instructs him to enter, and he does so, wiping his hand surreptitiously against the side of his leather jacket.

The first thing that hits him is the sheer volume of books in the room; they clutter every available surface, piled high in front of the big bay window like a strange line of defense. There are stacks of loose papers everywhere too, haphazard but clearly organized, some held in place by empty coffee mugs or odd-looking artefacts. The air is bright and warm, like this room catches the sun when it’s slow and mellow in the afternoons.

The second thing that hits him is the man sitting at the desk.

He doesn’t look up at Dean’s entrance, continuing to scribble away in a leather-bound notebook with intent dexterity, seemingly utterly lost in his own thoughts. He’s not what Dean expected; surprisingly young, maybe approaching forty, with a sharp jaw and tousled hair that just brushes his broad shoulders. When Dean clears his throat awkwardly, the man finally looks up with striking blue eyes that immediately pin Dean in place.

“Yes?” his voice is inquiring and several octaves deeper than Dean would have imagined, low and gravelly. He sets down his pen, looking at Dean with piercing focus.

“Uh – hey. Professor Bradshaw?” Dean feels distinctly self-conscious.

“Who wants to know?” the man closes his notebook with a snap and stands with surprisingly fluid ease, eyes still intent on Dean as though he’s cataloguing him.

He’s wearing a faded navy-blue sweater with the sleeves rolled up, slightly crumpled shirt tails poking out at the hem, just visible.

Drawing on years of sizing people up, Dean guesses that the guy probably has no one to go home to at night. If he goes home much at all, that is; the office has a distinctly lived-in look. It’s strangely reminiscent of the makeshift home feel of the impala’s interior.

“Um – Dean. Dean Collins,” Dean answers hastily, suddenly realizing he’s spent a little too long looking. “I’m uh – a student in one of your classes,” he lies the best way he knows how: with a charming smile. “I was wondering if you’ve got a moment? I was hoping to ask you a couple of questions about your work.”

“Come in, please,” Professor Bradshaw sits back down behind his desk, and gestures for Dean to close the door. “Take a seat.”

“Thanks,” Dean shuts the door and awkwardly removes three hardback books and a small, slightly drooping fern from the only available seat in front of Professor Bradshaw’s desk.

“Sorry – let me –” Professor Bradshaw leans over the desk to relieve Dean of the books and the plant. Close up, Dean can see faint lines softening the corners of his vivid eyes, and when he breathes in, he catches a hint of peppermint and the musk of warm skin, strangely compelling. Their hands brush for a moment as Professor Bradshaw takes the items, and Dean flinches, jerking away and planting himself firmly on the chair.

“So – Dean, yes?” Professor Bradshaw settles back into his seat. He’s still looking intently at Dean, gaze startlingly blue.

Wordlessly, Dean nods. He doesn’t know why he can feel the heat creeping up his cheeks.

“You’re not in any of my classes, Dean,” Professor Bradshaw says, with a slight edge to his voice. He reaches for a half-drunk mug of tea on his desk, expression skeptical.

Dean feels his stomach drop. “Uh, yeah – I’m new, just transferred a couple weeks back,” he bluffs quickly, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. He feels strangely flustered, visible.

“No, I don’t think so,” Professor Bradshaw says, flatly. “I believe I would have noticed,” he adds, wryly, with a kind of impatient warmth in his expression that makes Dean’s cheeks flare with heat all over again. Professor Bradshaw merely swallows a mouthful of tea and sets the mug back down, still looking at Dean. “So. Who are you?”

“Alright,” Dean puts his hands up in mock-surrender, smiling wide even though he feels stupidly on edge, knocked off course. “You got me. I’m – uh – a journalist. My boss has me writing a piece on local legends, and I was hoping to pick your brains. Heard you’re the expert on all that stuff around here, and thought I might be in with a better chance of talking to you as a student instead of some annoying reporter.”

“I see,” Professor Bradshaw leans back in his chair, contemplative. A shaft of sunlight filters through the bay window behind him, illuminating a hint of tawny in his dark, untidy hair. Dust motes hang everywhere like suspended snow. “Well, luckily for you, Dean, I find that my students can be just as annoying as reporters. And I still talk to them on a daily basis.”

Dean grins a little awkwardly, “Yeah?”

“Of course, I do get paid to do that,” Professor Bradshaw adds, dryly. “But perhaps I do them a disservice. Some of them are really quite inspiring.” He pauses, raising his mug to his lips. It has an owl on it, Dean notices absently. An overly fluffy one, with a slightly threatening glare. “I daresay I can spare five minutes. What is it that I can do for you, Dean?”

“Uh, so you study the supernatural, right?” Dean asks, clumsily. His hands are sweating where they’re shoved in the pockets of his jacket. “Ghosts and demons and all that shit?”

“I study the lore and mythology of supernatural beings, and why it’s important to humans to create such stories,” Professor Bradshaw clarifies, shortly.

“Right, got it,” Dean agrees, hastily. “But you’d know a bit about the Bridgewater coven?”

“I am familiar with the legends, yes,” Professor Bradshaw replies, reaching for his mug again. There’s an ink stain on the side of his index finger, smudged deep blue. Dean fleetingly wonders if it would rub off easily if he touched it, if it would leave a ghostly imprint on his own skin.

“Yeah – uh – so there’s been quite a lot of interest in the coven recently,” Dean blusters, annoyed with himself for how stupidly flustered he feels, “You know, since those bodies were found last week? At the burial site in Bridgewater Forest that’s associated with the legend? Yeah. Well, anyway, I was – hoping you might be able to tell me a little more about the legend of the coven.”

“I don’t see what the recent tragedies could possibly have to do with the legend,” Professor Bradshaw narrows his eyes skeptically.

“Right – yeah – nothing, I’m sure,” Dean lies hastily, “But the location of the crimes has definitely raised awareness about the existence of the legend, and that’s what we really want to provide for our readers.”

“Well, certainly, I can tell you the history,” Professor Bradshaw replies, briskly, “In fact, I teach an undergrad course on witchcraft in history and my lecture this Wednesday actually covers the legend of the coven. If you want a more detailed, nuanced version, you’re more than welcome to come along then – it’s at 11am in the Milton building. But I’m happy to give you the short version now, if that would be helpful?”

“Thanks – yeah, that’d be great,” Dean says, gratefully. “On a bit of a tight schedule today.”

“Well, the local legend about the Bridgewater coven has existed for almost two hundred years,” Professor Bradshaw starts, and immediately Dean can picture him talking in front of a lecture theatre full of kids. He’s a natural, something inherently captivating about the way he speaks. “In the 1800s, this village was an important site of religious pilgrimage. However, according to the legend, the village was also home to a small coven lead by a witch named Iris. Iris’s coven was said to have lived in secrecy in the forest on the outskirts of Bridgewater for years, and not to have troubled the village people. However, by 1816, the legend claims the coven had become very hostile, specifically towards the church. There were fears the coven had begun indoctrinating – or bewitching – members of the congregation.”

Professor Bradshaw pauses, swallowing another mouthful of tea. The muscles in his throat work, drawing Dean’s attention to the way his pale blue shirt isn’t buttoned up properly. He’s filled with the sudden, inexplicable urge to button it up correctly.

“More and more people started disappearing in connection with the coven,” Professor Bradshaw continues, setting his mug back down on the desk, and Dean jerks his gaze guiltily away from the line of his throat, clenching his hands into fists inside the pockets of his leather jacket. “The rapidly diminishing congregation lived in terror. The remaining members of the church all turned against each other. Then, at the height of local hysteria, Iris is said to have murdered Blanche, the minister’s daughter, in what is portrayed in the lore as some kind of statement of the coven’s power over the church.”

“Bet that didn’t go down too well,” Dean remarks, sardonically.

“Quite,” Professor Bradshaw catches Dean’s eye, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Anyway, according to the legend, the tragedy of Blanche’s death united the warring members of the congregation. They captured Iris and entombed her alive, using her own magic against her to keep her trapped. Iris’s death broke the spell on the members of the congregation who’d been indoctrinated against their will, and peace was restored to the village. The few remaining members of the original coven fled and were never seen again.”

“Wow,” Dean raises his eyebrows, “Very love-thy-neighbor.”

Professor Bradshaw snorts, “Yes. Religious leaders in the 1800s were renowned for sitting down and resolving their problems through compassionate discussion,” he remarks, dryly.

“Okay, but what about the other versions of the legend?” Dean asks, trying to remember the things Sam had told him to ask about, but drawing a total blank. His brain feels weirdly scrambled. It’s hard to remember what happened before walking into Professor Bradshaw’s office. “The other stories about the coven I’ve come across so far all seem pretty different.”

Professor Bradshaw frowns slightly. “It’s true, there are many conflicting accounts. Which is often the case with legends, being human constructions of the past,” he regards Dean slightly disapprovingly over the rim of his owl mug, a kind of skeptical stubbornness in the set of his mouth. “It’s not about knowing which ‘to believe’ – it’s about looking at why historically people have favored one version over the other and what that tells us about them.”

“Right, yeah, but aren’t legends often based on fact?” Dean pushes.

Professor Bradshaw pauses, contemplatively, “Yes. That’s certainly true in some cases.”

“Do you think it’s the case in this one?”

“Possibly,” Professor Bradshaw replies, haltingly. His expression is serious and he hesitates for a moment before elaborating; “In fact, I’m currently writing a paper about the historical figures who feature in the legend of the Bridgewater coven.”

“Yeah? Which ones?” Dean presses. He’s used to having to fake interest to get information out of people like Professor Bradshaw, but for once, he finds he’s genuinely interested. There’s something compelling about Professor Bradshaw’s evidently obsessive quest for obscure answers, something that resonates with all too much familiarity.

“Iris, predominantly,” Professor Bradshaw replies. “I’m very interested in the historical reasons women were condemned as witches. Often, it’s as simple as jilted male lovers using accusations of witchcraft as a means of revenge, or the women using herbal remedies that threatened contemporary male ideas of medicine and the body. Sometimes it’s to do with female homosexuality and society’s unacceptance of same sex relationships or women as sexual beings. Of course, it wasn’t uncommon for gay men to be condemned for witchcraft either. But statistically, more homosexual women died as a result of such accusations.”

“Uh – right –” Dean swallows, looking away. His hands are sweating again, and he wipes them surreptitiously on the insides of his pockets. Clearing his throat, he changes the subject, suddenly remembering the other thing Sam had told him to ask Professor Bradshaw about, “What about the runes?”

“Ah yes, the runes on Iris’s supposed tomb,” Professor Bradshaw’s gaze is suddenly inscrutable in a way that makes Dean’s heart thud uncomfortably in his chest. It sweeps over Dean, lingering and unnervingly blue for a moment, before he continues, “Very interesting. I’ve been studying them a great deal as part of my research. The true nature of them has always remained a mystery, and any attempts to discern their meaning haven’t fitted with the legend at all. I believe they may be key to understanding the history behind the creation of the legend. But,” he smiles, wryly, “It’s not an easy task. They’re unlike any runes I’ve come across anywhere else before.”

“Can I see?” Dean asks, partly out of interest, and partly for some way of distracting himself from the way his heart is still thumping uncomfortably fast.

“You’d have to visit the forest burial site to see them in person, but I do have a couple of sketches of the lines I’m working on at the moment,” Professor Bradshaw gets to his feet and crosses to the cabinet by the window, pulling the top drawer open.

The fall chestnut trees outside smolder amber behind his silhouette, midday sunshine pale gold and still where it filters through the window. Time seems strangely irrelevant. Dean watches as Professor Bradshaw flicks through a green binder, fingers quick and dexterous, skilled and uncalloused in a way Dean’s have never had the chance to be.

Dean swallows and looks away, ignoring the thud of his heart as he stares around at the rest of the room. He clocks a bunch of compendiums of mythology on the bookcase nearest him, and two other eccentric and slightly neglected looking plants. There’s a thick plaid rug on the couch in the corner, not quite concealing a plate of half-eaten toast. On the windowsill, there’s a little tin mug with a toothbrush in it that makes Dean wonder again just how often Professor Bradshaw goes home at all. He finds himself wondering whether Professor Bradshaw has always had nothing but an empty house to return to, or whether that’s a more recent development. He’s definitely old enough to be going through a divorce. The thought sits uncomfortably in Dean’s chest for reasons he doesn’t particularly want to identify.

“Here we are.” Professor Bradshaw’s gravelly voice, suddenly much closer, makes Dean jump. He glances around to find Professor Bradshaw standing beside him, holding out a sheet of paper. The smell of warm skin and peppermint catches Dean off guard, stronger this time, and still strangely compelling.

“Uh – thanks,” Dean says awkwardly, taking the proffered page. He feels Professor Bradshaw’s fingers brush against his fleetingly, warm and ink-stained.

Dean swallows, forcing himself to focus on the page in front of him even though his cheeks are hot with something he doesn’t want to think about. The sketches are good, a few strange vaguely Norse reminiscent symbols drawn hastily with accompanying, scrawled notes in the margins. There’s something about the runes that niggles at Dean’s brain, familiar and unfamiliar all at once, like something he’s known his whole life but can’t put his finger on.

“These are interesting,” Dean he frowns, tracing his finger along the two last symbols.

When he glances up, he finds Professor Bradshaw looking at him intently, blue eyes inscrutable. “Yes,” he says, leaning back against the desk and folding his arms across his chest. “Those are the ones which struck me too,” he’s speaking a little quieter, low voice distracting Dean from why the runes are so familiar. He hopes he can remember them, that Sam will be able to place what he can’t about them.

“So, uh, this tomb. The one with the runes on it – that’s definitely where that guy’s body was found last week? It wasn’t just nearby or something?” Dean forces himself to ask, ignoring the way his heart is suddenly thumping again. “And the girl found the week before – she was directly linked to the burial site too?”

Professor Bradshaw clears his throat, unfolding his arms. “I believe so, yes.”

“And that doesn’t seem – I don’t know – a little strange, to you?”

“Human beings committing violent acts against each other is generally something I find a little strange,” Professor Bradshaw replies, in clipped tones. “But beyond that – no. Now –” he breaks off, glancing at his watch. “I’m afraid I have a seminar to deliver in ten minutes,” he confesses, and there’s something unfinished about the way he says it, something almost reluctant. Like he half wants to stay here talking with Dean.

“No problem,” Dean stands, and takes a last glance at the sketches before handing them back, trying to commit them to memory. “Thanks, Professor.”

Their eyes meet as Professor Bradshaw accepts the page, and the room suddenly feels very airless, a pause suspended between them. Neither of them moves away.

This close, Dean can see miniscule flecks of grey like tiny stars lost in blue of Professor Bradshaw’s eyes, the way that his full lips are slightly chapped, like maybe he worries them between his teeth when he’s thinking. They’re soft pink and warm-looking, and Dean wonders fleetingly if they taste like peppermint tea.

“It was nice meeting you, Dean,” Professor Bradshaw says, gently, and his eyes are so blue.

“Uh – yeah – you too. Thanks. I’d – uh – I’d better get going,” Dean stammers, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and cursing the way his cheeks are suddenly flaming with heat. His thoughts churn unsteadily; he ignores them the way he’s learnt to.

Still feeling strangely wound-up, he nods awkwardly at Professor Bradshaw and turns reluctantly towards the door.

“Wait a moment, Dean –” Professor Bradshaw’s voice halts Dean in his tracks as he reaches the door, and Dean turns expectantly, heat thumping a little painfully.

“Yeah?”

“Here – you’re welcome to borrow a couple of books on local history,” Professor Bradshaw is pulling a couple of books down from the overflowing cabinet by the window. “They should have a bit more about the legend of the coven that you might find interesting. Divergences of the legend and so forth. I’ll need them back by Thursday morning as I’m teaching a class on them in the afternoon, but you’re welcome to borrow them until then if they’d be helpful.”

“You sure?” Dean takes the proffered books awkwardly, and swallows the strange disappointment sinks in him like a stone as Professor Bradshaw steps back again. “Thanks.”

“As I said, I’m also giving a lecture on Wednesday where I’ll be examining the history behind the legend of the coven. I meant what I said - you’d be more than welcome to attend,” Professor Bradshaw says, sincerely. His eyes are intent, and there’s a hint of something almost like hopefulness hidden in the depths of his gravelly voice. Working on long ingrained instinct, Dean chooses to ignore it.

“Thanks, I’ll – I’ll see what my schedule’s like,” Dean replies, haltingly.

“Of course,” Professor Bradshaw agrees. He turns back to his desk.

“Can I ask –” Dean pauses, watching Professor Bradshaw stuff another notebook and a stack of handouts into his briefcase. “You said you’re writing a paper about the runes at the forest burial site– do you go to there much?”

Professor Bradshaw glances up, distractedly. “Yes, I spend time there every week.”

“So you haven’t noticed anything – I don’t know – anything unusual when you’ve been there recently?” Dean ventures.

“Unusual how?” Professor Bradshaw closes his briefcase with a snap and looks up at Dean properly, eyes narrowed with sudden skepticism. It’s stronger than the hints Dean has caught at other points during their conversation, sharp and blue, a world away from the observant warmth of a few moments ago.

“I dunno – odd noises, sudden drops in temperature, shadows –”

“Just what are you asking me?” Professor Bradshaw demands, voice clipped and defensive.

“Have you seen anything like that?” Dean presses, stubbornly. Irritation prickles his skin.

“No, I haven’t,” Professor Bradshaw says, bluntly. “And you know why? Because yes, I study the supernatural – but it’s not real, Dean. I don’t know what kind of sensational article you’re writing about local lore, but I can assure you, lore is all it is.” He winds a striped scarf haphazardly around his neck, and grabs his briefcase off the desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to teach.”

Sam is eating some gross looking granola yoghurt pot with a plastic spoon when Dean eventually clambers back into the car, feeling distinctly frustrated.

“You took your time,” he remarks idly, raising an eyebrow as Dean adjusts the mirror with an unnecessary amount of force and turns on the ignition.

“Goddamn waste of time was what it was,” Dean mutters mutinously, pulling out of the space and then immediately being forced to hit the brakes when a cluster of students cross the parking lot in front of him. He grinds his teeth and resists the urge to honk the horn. “Thought I was getting somewhere but he completely shut down the minute I asked him if he’d noticed anything weird at the burial site.”

“Suspicious?” Sam frowns, through a mouthful of granola.

“No, don’t think so. Just really damn touchy,” Dean drums his fingers impatiently against the wheel as he waits for the students to move, “And a bit of an asshole. I dunno, suppose working in his field he’s probably used to people thinking he’s just some lunatic who believes in the supernatural.”

“And does he?”

Dean snorts. “No way. He’s got a real bee in his bonnet about it. You’d think someone who’s spent the last twenty years with their head buried in books about ghosts and covens and demonic possession might be a little more open to the idea,” he shrugs, and gives in to the temptation to lean on the horn, reveling in the brief satisfaction of making the students jump and scurry out of the way, “But no. The guy’s absolutely blind to it all, and could rival you on stubbornness.”

Sam purses his mouth in annoyance, but doesn’t rise to the bait. “Get anything useful at all?”

“He did lend me a couple books,” Dean admits, nodding in the direction of the backseat. “Have to take them back on Thursday morning, though. He needs them for some class.”

“He leant you his books?” Sam raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugs, skin prickling in annoyance, “What of it?”

“Dunno, that’s just,” Sam swallows a mouthful of yoghurt, “Pretty trusting. Academics usually treat their books as if they’re their first borns.”

“Don’t mess them up when you read them, then,” Dean says, dismissively, as they pull out onto the main street. “You find out anything useful about the victims?”

“Not really,” Sam leans back in his seat with a sigh, “Both from middle class, religious families. Seem to have been pretty well liked by people. Hard to establish any link more than that. The wife of the guy that was killed last week seemed a bit cagey, though,” he shrugs, “Might be worth a second visit to see if she’s holding out on us about something.”

“Right,” Dean drums his fingers impatiently against the wheel as they wait for a light to change. It’s starting to drizzle, tiny flecks of grey hitting the windshield. “Are we still definitely thinking ghost?”

“Seems like it,” Sam affirms, “The way the victims died definitely points to a vengeful spirit. But the place they were killed – connected to the burial site associated with the coven? I don’t know, I was thinking maybe it’s no ordinary ghost. Maybe it’s the vengeful spirit of a witch, and that’s why it’s so powerful?”

“Hm,” Dean mulls it over, flicking the windscreen wipers on as they continue to wait. They squeak slightly, repetitive and familiar. “You could be onto something there.”

“Yeah?”

“Professor Bradshaw was telling me about the local legend of the coven. Apparently, its leader was entombed alive by a bunch of angry churchgoers,” Dean steps on the accelerator as the light finally changes, and the rain-slicked village slides past in a blur. “That’s got to be some pretty good vengeful spirit material right there. And you said the victims were both religious, right? Can’t be a coincidence.”

“Why now, though?” Sam frowns. “It’s been what – two hundred years? There must have been plenty of churchgoers who walked by the burial site before now.”

“Dunno,” Dean shrugs, staring out at the rainy smudge of fall colors. The chestnuts trees lining the street are the same smoldering hue of amber as the one outside Professor Bradshaw’s window.

They drive in silence for a few moments, wipers squeaking.

“Okay,” Sam says, at length, “So I’m thinking – we go check into a motel, get through as much of these books from your professor as we can while we wait for the rain to stop, and then check out the burial site later this afternoon before it gets dark?” Sam asks, chucking his plastic spoon in the empty yoghurt container.

“He’s not ‘my professor’,” Dean says defensively, and suddenly has to step a little too hard on the breaks to avoid running a red light.

“Alright,” Sam says, slowly. “Okay.”

“Anyway, yeah,” Dean blusters, hastily, ignoring the weight of Sam’s gaze on the side of his face, “Works for me. But first,” he flicks on the indicator and pulls into a space near a little line of local shops. “Food. Not that yoghurty shit you’ve been eating. Real food.”

The forest is steeped in quiet in the way all ancient places are, fall singing the leaves on the gnarled branches that claw their way towards the fading gold of the late afternoon sun. Dean breathes in the wet, cloying smell of moss and follows Sam’s careful path through the trees. There’s a chill in the air, but the handle of Dean’s blade is hot in the palm of his hand.

“How much further to this place?” he hisses at Sam’s back, swatting a frond of bracken out of his face and casting his gaze edgily through the twisting branches and burnt amber.

“Nearly there, according to –” Sam stops so abruptly that Dean nearly collides with him, throwing out a cautionary arm.

“What?” Dean whispers urgently, instantly drawing his blade. His heart is racing now, whole body tense, coiled, ready to attack. His gaze flickers rapidly through the mess of branches and he stands on his tiptoes, trying to see past Sam’s stupidly large frame. “Sammy,” he hisses, impatiently, when Sam doesn’t immediately answer, “What is it?”

“There’s something there,” Sam breathes, almost inaudible. His posture is still, alert. Dean can see Sam’s hold on the gun in his back pocket tighten.

“What kind of something?” Dean whispers, craning his neck to try and see. The light seems somehow dimmer already, the fading sun sliding further towards the ground. When he breathes in, the smell of wet leaves is stronger, now that they’re in the heart of the forest. His heart is thrumming so fast but everything else feels suspended in time, unnaturally still.

“I think it’s a person,” Sam murmurs, and somewhere close, Dean hears the brittle rustle of dead leaves, loud and unnerving in the wooded quiet. He watches the quickened rise and fall of Sam’s shoulders as his breathing suddenly sharpens. “They’re holding something. They – shit, Dean, they’re coming this way.”

Dean reacts immediately and on nearly twenty years of protective instinct; he shoves Sam out of the way and stumbles out into the clearing, blade brandished in front of him.

---

#did i really just create a new ship tag on ao3 just because i couldn't get the idea of early seasons dean and pre-podcast jeremy meeting?#yes #yes i did #feedback truly makes my day <3 #crossposting from ao3 #bridgewater #bridgewater podcast #supernatural #dean winchester #jeremy bradshaw #dean x jeremy #spn fanfic #dean fanfic #my stuff #my posts: fanfic

57 notes · View notes

galactic-magick · 3 years

Text

As Long As I’m With You: Agnes/Agatha Harkness x Reader

Request: Hi, can you please do where Agnes (a villain) saves fem reader's life because she has feelings for her? In the end they end up together // also took some ideas from this request

Summary: You’re accused of witchcraft in your village, and a mysterious beautiful witch comes to your aid.

Words: 2200+

Warnings: fem reader, Agatha is low key evil so she hurts some people, a swear word, reader has an angsty past

Author’s Notes: This can be read as either a standalone fic or as a prequel to my other fic “Spell Practice.” I took quite a lot of creative liberty with this, hopefully that’s alright. Also disclaimer I am in no way a history expert so even though this is set in like the 1500s-1600s it’s probably very inaccurate, but it’s fanfic so anything goes right?

Taglist: @nyx-aira @midnight-lestrange @thestrangeundoing @thegayances @sleep-deprived-athlete @dr-robotnik-said-hella @fallingfor-fics @p-nymph @thelanawinterrs @sunproud (if your tag didn’t work it might be bc your blog isn’t searchable so make sure that’s on so you’re notified of future fics!)

You had no idea how much your life would change when you left your house that day.

It started out with a simple run to the market and the garden to get what you needed for supper that night, a job that almost always falls to you. You don’t necessarily mind getting away from your family and talking to some people in town, but it’s clear that your family doesn’t want you in the house as much as possible either.

It’s gotten to the point where they’re just looking for a reason to get rid of you. You’re a disappointment, after all. You refuse to marry in order to help your family’s status, even though you’ve gotten a couple offers. You counter your parent’s rules and ideas every chance you get, no matter how much they tell you you’re crazy. They belittle you constantly, saying your dreams are worth nothing and you’ll have to be dependent on them forever if you never submit to the role in society you’re supposed to.

Obviously bullying you out of their lives wasn’t working, so they’ve moved on to spreading rumors about you and setting you up for crimes. None have worked yet, of course, but every day you fear they’ll get too close.

Until you get burned at the stake, though, they’ve given you basically every responsibility of the house. You do all the shopping, cooking, and farming, as well as taking care of your younger siblings. You wonder what they’d do without you, despite how much they seem to want you gone.

As you’re buying a few crops and eggs from your neighbors, you swear you see something move. You turn around and see a little boy floating in the air, screaming.

You drop everything in your arms and reach up to him, trying to grab him and help him down, but he keeps flailing, and his screams start to feel directed at you.

“Hey! It’s okay! Let me help you!” you hold your hand up, speaking as calmly as you can. “I’m not going to hurt you,”

“WITCH!” a man yells as he sees you. “SHE’S A WITCH!”

Everyone around turns and watches you.

“No! No! I’m not the one doing this! I’m trying to help!”

“Let him down and maybe we’ll wait to kill you til tomorrow!” someone else demands.

A couple people march towards you to grab you, and all you can think to do is start running.

You race out of the center of town into the trees, and about five men chase after you. You keep going until it feels like your legs are going to give out and you can barely breathe, but they keep coming.

“Please! Please stop! It wasn’t me I swear!” you cry. “I don’t know what was happening!”

“Shut up, girl,” one grunts. “Your father always said there was something wrong with you, makes sense that you’re a witch!”

“What’s so wrong about witches?” a female voice calls.

You and the men spin around, trying to figure out where it came from.

Before you can blink there’s purple smoke surrounding you, and the men are thrown against the trees. They’re knocked unconscious instantly, but you remain standing and untouched.

“Who are you?” you ask, your voice quivering.

“Don’t be afraid, my dear,” the smoke starts to fade and you can make out her silhouette, then eventually her face. “I’m here to help you,”

She’s beautiful. You’ve never seen someone that immediately feels so friendly, so different in all the best ways.

“It’s alright to stare, I know I’m quite a sight,” she laughs. “I’m Agatha,”

“I’m Y/N,”

“Ah, yes, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of you,” she smiles. “Everyone in the village can barely stand you,”

“Thanks…?” you’re not sure how to respond, especially after all that just happened. “Wait, if you live in my village, why have I never seen you? And how come you’ve never gotten caught using magic?”

“Memory spells, of course,” she shrugs. “Now, let’s get you somewhere safe, alright?”

You nod, and she wraps an arm around you. She takes you deep into the forest until you reach a small house, the glimmer of the fire peering through the windows.

You settle down on a chair while she makes some tea and food. She offers you a blanket and hands you the cup and plate, sitting down across from you.

“So how long have you been practicing magic?” she asks.

“Oh…I…well actually I don’t know how to use any magic,”

“Really? Why were the witch hunters after you then?”

“I was set up, I think,” you say. “There was a little boy floating in the air, and since I was near him they thought it was me. But I wasn’t doing anything,”

“Well,�� Agatha sips her tea. “Sometimes magic can manifest itself subconsciously. Maybe you were doing it but didn’t realize it. It’s quite common,”

“But…how would I have magical powers? I’ve never learned it from anywhere,”

“Some people are just born with the gift,” she grins.

You exhale, thinking over what she said. Could it be true? You’ve been a witch all your life without even knowing it?

That night, Agatha conjures another bed for you to sleep in. But even though she made it as comfortable as she possibly could, you can’t get a wink of sleep.

You lift off the blanket and wrap it tightly around you, getting up slowly and quietly. You walk outside and sit against a tree, looking up at the stars.

You’re sure your family has heard the news by now. Their disappointment of a daughter is finally gone, accused of witchcraft. It seems that the foreseeable future will be spent with Agatha, the only safe person you have.

You wonder just how much she already knows about you. She mentioned she’s heard people gossiping about you all the time in town, yet she still saved you after hearing all those negative things.

Why is that?

“Can’t sleep?”

You jump at her voice, and she chuckles a bit at your reaction.

“Sorry,” you sigh. “I just have a lot to think about from today, I guess,”

“No worries,” she sits down beside you. “So do I,”

“Agatha,” you say. “Why did you save me?”

“Us witches have to stick together. I saw you were in trouble, so I saved you,”

“But you knew, didn’t you? You’ve known I was a witch long before this, didn’t you?”

“I had my suspicions,” she agrees. “Whenever I heard people talk about you, I figured you weren’t like everyone else. But I didn’t know for sure until today,”

“I wish you had taken me before,” you huff, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “It’s been so bad, Agatha, feeling worthless just because you’re different, everyone hates you…”

She pulls you into her shoulder, letting you cry into it, “I know, dear, I know,”

It takes you a while to come to terms with your potential powers, but as soon as you’re ready Agatha begins to teach you how to use them. You spend your days studying her spell books and practicing simple spells, most of which you fail at.

She encourages you as much as possible, explaining to you that magic is not something you can learn overnight, sometimes not even over years. She tells you that she’s actually thousands of years old (a surprise to you due to her stunning looks) and she’s been practicing for much of that time, and there’s still some spells she hasn’t mastered.

Your impatience still gets the better of you most days, though. You can’t imagine waiting several centuries to get something to work, if you get it to work at all.

One day you’re sitting at the table, trying out a simple transfiguration spell. You wave your hand repeatedly at a potato, hoping to turn it into an apple. It doesn’t even wobble, not even a single spark, but you’ve been sitting here for hours and don’t want to give up just yet.

You nearly fall asleep from exhaustion when all of a sudden it happens. It works.

There’s an apple in front of you. Not a potato, an apple.

“Holy shit!” you scream. “Agatha! I did it!”

You run over to her and point at your small accomplishment.

“Look at you go, darling!” she smiles, hugging you. “At this rate you’ll be changing rocks into cats before you’re 200!”

You laugh, “Oh come on, this is literally just one of the beginner spells,”

“So what? That’s where everybody starts,”

You break out in giddy excitement again, jumping up and down a bit and looking back and forth just to make sure your creation is still there.

Without thinking, you kiss Agatha quickly on the lips.

She stares at you, mouth open.

Before you can apologize, she grabs your face and kisses you hard. She’s everything you’d imagined and more, soft and warm but with a spark you can’t ignore.

When you finally break apart, her hands linger, brushing across your features and in your hair, “I’ve been waiting to do that,”

Things change after that, but in only the best ways.

Agatha isn’t just your mentor anymore, the only friend who came to your aid.

She’s your everything now, a soulmate, your home.

You tell her all about your life, and she tells you all about hers. As she has significantly more stories to tell, you’ll fall asleep many nights to her whispering all the legends she lived through that no one else knows are true.

She makes you laugh every day, and makes sure you always know how much she cares about you. There’s only so much you can do in your hidden home in the woods, but with magic the possibilities are endless and she’s never short of romantic ideas.

Tonight you find yourself lying your head in her lap while she plays with your hair, close to the fire so you can watch the little shows she creates with the flames.

“What about love?” you ask.

“What about it?”

“Out of all the stories you’ve told me, you’ve never mentioned being in love before,”

“Well,” she sighs. “That’s because I haven’t been,”

“Why not?”

“It’s just never appealed to me,” she says. “Until I met you,”

“Oh,” you grin, looking up at her.

She leans down to kiss you, but you’re broken apart by a loud noise outside.

You shoot up, looking at Agatha in pure panic. Your heart races as the noise gets louder and louder, eventually leading to shouting and knocks at the door.

“WE FOUND YOU!” a booming voice yells.

“Aggie?” you whisper. Everything crumbles around you. Your perfect, happy life, now about to be stolen from you. You have no idea how they found you, if you are about to be dead, if you’ll be able to defend yourself at all.

She kisses you and stands up, “Stay here. I’ll take care of it,”

With a fling of her fingers the door flies open, and the torches the townspeople are holding are burnt out. She smirks, purple smoke covering the area as she goes through them one by one, some just throwing to the side and others suffering a painful death.

She turns their own weapons against them, their own people against them, and makes them regret everything they’ve ever done.

When she returns to you, you’re still in so much shock and panic you couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing.

“Did you…kill all of them?”

“They got what they deserved for threatening us,” she says nonchalantly. “But we’re not safe here anymore. It’s time to find somewhere new,”

“Okay,” you nod as she pulls you against her. “As long as I’m with you,”

“I’ll always protect you, even when you learn enough to protect yourself,” she kisses your forehead. “Always and forever,”

APPROXIMATELY FOUR CENTURIES LATER

“I’m back, darling!” Agatha calls, shutting the door behind her.

“How’d it go?” you run to her, grabbing her hands.

“Splendid, that poor Wanda already loves her new neighbor!”

“Wow,” you giggle. “You know I must say, this whole living in a sitcom thing isn’t that bad, you look gorgeous in that 50s dress,”

“Oh darling, somehow after all this time you still flatter me,” she pretends to fan herself. “I have to go back over real quick, alright? Gotta give her this spicy magazine,” she holds her hand up in the air and magically forms one in her grasp.

“Ah! Be sure to get some ideas to use on me when you get back,” she laugh.

“Oh I will honey,” she winks, kissing you before going out the door.

You settle on the couch, looking around at your home. Out of all the places you’ve moved to together, this was by far the weirdest. There’s no color, and everyone besides you and Agatha and Wanda are under some kind of mind control.

You never imagined that day all those years ago would bring you here, spending your life with a beautiful witch and being her partner in all things, even sinister ones. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, and you know this strange town will only bring you more opportunities to practice your magic and help Agatha with her plans.

#agatha harkness #wandavision #agatha harkness x reader #agnes x reader #wandavision spoilers #wandavision x reader

249 notes · View notes

samwisethewitch · 3 years

Text

Paganism and witchcraft

Thanks to many, many centuries of misinformation, paganism and magic are inextricably linked in pop culture. Progress has been made — the word “pagan” is less likely to make people think of dark rites, blood magic, and ritual orgies in the twenty-first century than it was in, say, the seventeenth century. Even so, if you tell someone you identify as pagan, you’re bound to eventually get the question: “So, are you, like, a witch?”

The answer, like so many things in paganism is that it depends on the pagan.

Before we get into modern pagans and their views on magic, I think it’s helpful to understand the historical roots of the association of paganism with witchcraft. And for that, we have to travel back to the Middle Ages, when Christianity was already well-established as the dominant religion in Europe, and the Catholic Church was well on its way to becoming a hegemonic superpower. The beginning of the witch hunts was just around the corner.

In her book The Study of Witchcraft, Deborah Lipp claims that two very different understandings of what it meant to be a witch were both at work in the medieval witch trials.

The first concept of witchcraft, which Lipp identifies as the “folk witch,” was much older and much less Christian. These were people who used dark magic, such as hexes, to cause harm and mischief. Though they may not have been called “witches,” folk witches or witch-like figures have existed in virtually every culture in some form. Examples include British witches, Irish changelings, and Navajo skin-walkers. The one consistent feature of these diverse creatures is an association with magic and a tendency to cause harm. They were seen as a threat to the community, and these types of witches were persecuted long before the rise of Christianity.

(For what it’s worth, the fact that witches were disliked by ancient pagans doesn’t mean that all magic was. Most of the ancient cultures that inspired modern paganism also had their own magical practice, and in many cases magic does not seem to have been controversial or taboo. But again, those who used magic for good would not have been considered witches before the twentieth century.)

The second concept of witchcraft identified by Lipp is the “Satanic witch,” which is an exclusively Christian concept. These people were heretics of the worst kind, members of a cult of Satan worshipers who had sexual relations with demons and plotted against the Church. They were a threat to the faithful Christians in their community.

The only unifying factor in these definitions is a sense of deviancy. Both folk witches and Satanic witches were people who deviated from the norm. It’s no coincidence that those accused of witchcraft were often those who broke societal norms in some way, such as single mothers or women who owned property.

These two distinct definitions of witchcraft would collide in the Middle Ages, with those who were tried for witchcraft often accused both of causing harm to the community by blighting crops or killing animals, and of worshiping Satan. It was commonly believed that these witches tormented the community with evil powers given to them by Satan.

But what does all this have to do with paganism?

While it’s possible that some of the people executed for witchcraft in Europe were secretly practicing the old pagan religions, they definitely wouldn’t have been the majority or even a significant minority. Supposed witches were almost always accused of worshiping Satan, not pagan gods. Most of the people who were accused, tried, and executed for witchcraft were probably accused for social reasons, not religious ones. Most if not all of them were probably not witches as we would recognize them today.

The accusation of devil worship is one that medieval “witches” have in common with pagans. Many of Satan’s names were originally the names of pagan deities, such as Beelzebub (a Philistine god), Moloch (a Canaanite god), and Dagon (another Philistine god). This association of Satan with pagan deities reflects real-world political conflict between the Hebrew people (and later the early Christians) and the cultures who worshiped those deities. Like the label of “witch,” this serves a political function and creates a clear “us vs. them” mindset.

However, it wouldn’t be accurate to say that medieval Christians thought that witch = pagan, or that they thought pagan = devil worship. During the conversion period (several hundred years before the Middle Ages), it seems that Christians largely viewed pagan gods as just that — other gods who were in competition with their own. There are records of Christians and pagans living in relative peace in some parts of Europe — something that surely wouldn’t have been possible if Christians believed that all pagans were devil worshipers.

Fear and paranoia regarding Satan and his followers didn’t become a large part of Christianity until the Middle Ages. Before that, Satan was a relatively minor figure, less the embodiment of evil and more of an annoyance. He was even used for comic relief in religious plays! It was in the Middle Ages that Satan began to take on a more prolific, antagonistic role. Again, this coincided with the Church becoming a hegemonic political entity.

I’m by no means an expert on European history, but it sure seems to me like the witch hunts and Satan paranoia of the Middle Ages were more about controlling the people and punishing deviance than about genuine religious conviction. Just saying.

By the time the witch hunts began, paganism (a.k.a., pre-Christian religion) had all but died out in Europe. Worship of the old gods had either ceased entirely or had been incorporated into Christianity in the form of regional tradition and superstition. Thus, “witches” were accused of worshiping Satan who, at the time, would have been a much more recognizable figure than Jupiter or Anubis.

So, to make a very long story short, there really isn’t a historical connection between paganism and witchcraft, except for both of them having been in conflict with Christianity at some point. It’s important to remember that witchcraft (in this case defined as harmful magic) is a concept that predates Christianity and that witches were treated with suspicion in pagan as well as Christian communities.

That’s not to say the two aren’t connected. In fact, modern paganism is much more closely linked to witchcraft than its historic counterparts.

If you read enough older books about paganism, especially Wicca and other neopagan religions, you will likely find references to “the Burning Times.” This is an exaggerated, largely fictionalized, and thoroughly disproved narrative that was popular with early neopagans, including Gerald Gardner, the father of Wicca. The “Burning Times” refers to the idea that, in the Middle Ages in Europe, the witch hunts were a genocidal attack on self-identified witches and pagans, in an attempt to wipe out these ancient belief systems. This is almost entirely false.

Belief in the “Burning Times” requires belief in Margaret Murray’s witch-cult hypothesis, which has been almost totally discredited by historians and archaeologists. Murray believed that the medieval witch trials were an attempt to wipe out a widespread pagan religion that had survived the Christianization of Europe. Murray claimed that this witch cult spanned much of Europe and worshiped a horned deity, who was referred to as the Devil by Christians.

Again, Murray’s theory has been completely discredited. There is no evidence whatsoever of a continent-spanning pagan religion, much less one that survived into the Middle Ages. If a book, website, or teacher refers to Murray’s theory or to the “Burning Times” as if they were historical fact, they are not a good resource for your study of paganism. Remember, paganism had been largely displaced by Christianity before the European witch hunts really got going!

But Murray’s theory, although false, has still had an impact on our modern understanding of witchcraft and paganism. As previously mentioned, Gerald Gardener was inspired by Murray’s ideas and incorporated some of them into Wicca. Noticeably, the Wiccan God often appears in prayers, poetry, and artwork as the Horned King, clearly inspired by the god Murray wrote about. Wicca was also the first pagan religion to make magic an integral part of ritual, thus marrying paganism with witchcraft.

The rising popularity of Wicca, and of self-identified witches, has helped destigmatize the label. Wiccans are, for the most part, lovely people who strive to use magic only for good. This is very different from the historic understanding of a witch as one who causes harm, and it’s been great PR for the witch archetype.

Nowadays the word “witch” can refer to anyone who practices magic, although some magic practitioners choose to use different labels. “Witch” no longer has connotations of evil, mischief, or malicious intent. The witch’s pop culture makeover has also been aided by popular fiction that portrays witches in a positive light, like the sitcom Bewitched, the Harry Potter franchise, and the TV show Charmed. This new definition has caused thousands of people, pagan and non-pagan alike, to use witchcraft and the witch label as a means to empower themselves and improve their lives.

Modern pagans may or may not identify as witches. Personally, I am both a pagan and a witch — but my paganism and my witchcraft are two different parts of my spiritual identity. For other pagans, witchcraft and magic are an essential part of their religious practice.

Say it with me, now: it all depends on the pagan!

Resources:

The Study of Witchcraft by Deborah Lipp

Witches, Sluts, Feminists by Kristen J. Soleee

The British History Podcast, “94 — Dark Age Beliefs”

Irish History Podcast, “Kilkenny Witchcraft Trial of 1324 (Part I)” and “Kilkenny Witchcraft Trial of 1324 (Part II)”

Wicca For Beginners by Thea Sabin

241 notes · View notes

carriagelamp · 4 years

Photo

~ Queer Lit 30 Day Book Challenge ~

I decided to do this challenge I came across for June! Originally it was designed as a “day-by-day” thing, but my June was way too hectic to do a write up every single day… so I decided to make a nice compilation for the end of the month instead!

This is perhaps not the “purest” form of the challenge but I wanted it to be personal for me. Growing up when I did and where I did, I had very little exposure to queer books, especially age-appropriate queer books. That being said, there’s some books on this list that are really only “queer” by technically, or through a secondary character rather than the main character. I debated whether to include these but finally decided that, yes, I would. I owe it to myself. Even though some of these books that aren’t “as queer” as other, they were (or are) really important to me as a queer person and my journey is understanding that, so I wanted to acknowledge them!

More info about the books and the challenge under the cut!

Day One: First Queer Book You Remember Reading

Color by Taishi Zaou and Eiki Eiki

Remember how I mentioned a lack of available, age-appropriate queer books? I was one of those kids who was definitely exposed (probably too young) to queer manga/yaoi. It wasn’t necessarily what I wanted, especially as a wee ace teen, but it was the best I had at the time and it meant the world to me at the time, to see same-sex relationships even if looking back on them is very “YIKES”.

I’m sure I read others before this, but Color is one of the first that I really remember and which I a) actually owned and which b) wasn’t completely repellent in hindsight! I haven’t reread it in probably over a decade so I have no idea how it stands up, but at the time it read like a much more “realistic” account of two teenagers developing a crush and starting a relationship and as a questioning teenager it really helped me realize that this was a real, viable option.

Day Two: Queer Book That Reminds You Of Home

The Witch Boy by Molly Knox Ostertag

I hummed and hawed about this one for a long time because honestly I tend to read books that make me feel far from home. I decided to go with The Witch Boy though because it’s a story that challenges gender norms and stars a large family out in the woods, running wild and exploring magic, and honestly it gives me vibes that remind me of vacationing with my extended family. We’re also partially ginger and inclined to run wild in the woods. If we knew magic we’d have used it for sure.

This book is about 13 year old Aster, who lives in a family where the women all become witches and the men all become shifters. Aster, however, has no interest in shapeshifting and instead finds ways to study magic and learn the arts of witchcraft while constantly being pushed out by his female relatives… though everything might change when a new danger, that may or may not be connected to Aster studying magic, begins to appear.

Day Three: Queer Book That Has Been On Your TBR Too Long

Beneath The Citadel by Destiny Soria

That was an easy choice, this has been sitting on my bookshelf for months, staring at me accusingly every time I enter my room. I’m really excited to read it (Magical heist? Rebellion? With an asexual protagonist? Yes please) but for some reason I have not gotten around to it. Some day, baby, some day.

Day Four: Queer Book With A Name Or Number In The Title

George by Alex Gino

George is an absolutely charming middle grade novel about a child named George who the world perceives as male… but who knows she’s definitely a girl. The novel begins when her class decided to put on a play about the novel they had just read: Charlotte’s Web. George is desperate to play Charlotte, her favourite character, but isn’t even allowed to try out because it’s a “girl’s role”. George and her best friend struggle with how to handle this problem and manage George’s secret amid elementary school and home drama.

This book is really adorable – it was a nice, easy, cozy read for an adult, and would also make a great read aloud to elementary-age children if you want to introduce them to transgender characters.

Day Five: Queer Book Where The Protag Has A Fun Job

The Magic Misfits by Neil Patrick Harris

Not actually a queer protagnoist, but a queer side character who plays a major role in the series. Mister Vernon, one of Leila’s fathers, has arguable the coolest job: he’s a retired stage magician turn magic shop owner, which is complete with large rabbit, hidden room, and tons of fascinating gadgets to help a young practical magician learn their trade. He is hands down one of the neatest character in the series and is a major catalyst throughout the series.

The first book follows Carter, a runaway orphan who practices street magic to get by, as he runs away from his horrible uncle and winds up meeting a gang of magic-loving friends in a small town. Hiding from his uncle is only the beginning though, and the mysteries surrounding the town and Mister Vernon become thicker and thicker as the series goes on.

Day Six: Favourite Queer Graphic Novel

Check, Please! by Ngozi Ukazu

There’s lots of fantastic queer graphic novels out there, but I have to name Check, Please! as my favourite (and not just because I’m Canadian and am legally obligated to at least show interest in a hockey story). Check, Please! is the friggin cutest story about Eric “Bitty” Bittle, former figure skater and avid baker, who joins the Samwell University hockey team. The story is told in the form of Bitty’s vlog as he recounts the bizarre quirks of the Samwell hockey team, his struggle to overcome his fear of checking, and his growing crush on the team captain, Jack. Seriously guys, this is cavity-inducing sweetness and you can read it all online for free, here on tumblr @omgcheckplease or at its own website, checkpleasecomic.

Day Seven: Queer Book You Often Reread

Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan

Another book I haven’t reread in years, but this was the first queer novel I ever read (and owned!) so I read it obsessively, first the copy from the high school library and then my own copy (which is, let us say, well-thumbed by this point). It was pure fluff, in an aggressively diverse, relentlessly accepting, rainbow-coloured high school and it was exactly what I wanted in high school, and it still makes me happy whenever I remember it. It’s a straight-up high school romance, pretty traditional to the genre, but it has the most delightful supporting cast you could ever ask for. Maybe I should reread it again this summer…

Day Eight: Queer Book With A Happy Ending

Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst

This was a bit more of a “yeah it was fine” book for me, but honestly… queer people deserve some average, run-of-the-mill YA fantasies. As far as my normal reading preferences go, run-of-the-mill YA fantasies are my bread and butter. And this one has a cute sapphic romance to go with it. It’s about Denna, a princess with a dangerous secret: she has a magical Affinity for fire, despite being betrothed to the prince of a kingdom that aggressively prosecutes and fears magic-users. So now Denna is in a strange land, trying to hide her increasingly volatile magic, solve an assassination that rocked the kingdom, and deal with the growing connection between her and the prince’s wild sister, Mare. It has court intrigue, a murder mystery, horses, and lots of confused sapphic pining so it’s totally worth picking up if you want a light summer fantasy adventure.

Day Nine: Queer Book With (Over) 100 Pages

River of Teeth by Sarah Gailey

I decided to try to get as close to 100 pages as possible! River of Teeth is a 114-page novella that I haven’t quite finished (work and covid stress happened) but which I am fucking losing my mind for. I can’t recommend it enough. It’s peak alternative history, about queer hippopotamus-riding cowboys in Louisiana during the early 20th (late 19th?) century. Like… I don’t know how to emphasize how unbelievably cool this book is. Genderqueer demolition expert with a giant crush and a penance for making things blow up and attempting to poison guests when they’re bored?? Check. Gay gunslinging hippo-riding cowboy with an angsty backstory (and also a giant crush)? Check. Sexy, fat, badass lady con artist with an albino hippo that she spoils? Check. Like damn guys. I’m not done the book and I’ve already bought the sequel because I know the second I pick it back up I’m not gonna stop until I’ve ploughed through it all. This book is the epitome of “refuge in audacity” and “rule of cool”. Is it over the fucking top? Absolutely but that’s the point.

Day Ten: Favourite Queer Genre Novel

The Red Scrolls of Magic by Cassandra Clare

I’ll be honest, I’m a little shaky on what counts as a genre novel (isn’t… everything… a genre??) so I decided to interpret it as “slightly trashy YA supernatural fantasy” because that sure is a hella specific genre I’m weak for.

I really thought I was done with the Shadowhunter novels, I thought they were a goofy series I left behind in teenagerhood that I could look back on with amused indulgence. And then I found out that there was a novel specifically about Alec and Magnus and! Oh no! Ding dong I was wrong. I fell back in hard because listen… I love them. They were one of the first canonical same-sex relationships I ever read about in an actual novel, they meant a lot to me then and still mean a lot to me now. I have nothing to say to defend myself here except that this book wrecked me and I can’t wait for the sequel.

Day Eleven: Queer Book You Love In A Genre You Don’t Read

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me by Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O’Connel

I am very rarely a slice-of-life / romance genre sort of person. I like my stories cut with a heavy dose of fantasy, scifi, action-adventure… something. So a graphic novel that’s not only a romance, but one about an unhealthy relationship and infidelity is like… super outside my usual range of reading material. But it was very much worth the read! The art was stunning, and the complicated emotions it tapped into really touched me. I’m very happy to have read it, and was so damn satisfied by the end.

Day Twelve: Queer Book With A Strong Sense Of Place

Belle Révolte by Linsey Miller

Linsey Miller is one author I very actively follow, I love her works and they always have very distinct, complicated worlds with unique societies and magic systems. Belle Révolte was her latest book and followed a prince-and-the-pauper type of story, in which wealthy Emilie des Marais is determined to learn noonday (magical) arts in order to become a physician, someone who can actually work to make her home a better place… but this is not something a proper lady would ever be allowed to do. So she flees her finishing school and meets poor, but magically gifted, Annette Boucher and offers her the chance to switch places. Annette goes back to school as “Emilie” and gets to hone her skills at the midnight arts while Emilie will use her name to sneak into medical school and fight her way up the ranks to physician. This is a challenging enough task, with rebellion roiling just beneath the surface and the country about to slip into a arrogant war that threatens the lives of hundreds…

Day Thirteen: Queer Book That Really Made You Think

Our Dreams At Dusk by Yuhki Kamatani

This is a four book manga series that is completely breath-taking. It’s touched by magical-realism and completely drowned in visually stunning metaphors and symbolism. Seriously, I’ve reread these books multiples times trying to digest how the wide variety of symbols overlap and contradict and compliment and challenge each other. I still haven’t really gotten a solid handle on it, it’s very fluid, so yeah… definitely makes me think.

The story starts with Tasuku Kaname who believes he may have just been outed as gay by a high school friend, and feels like he’s watching his entire world crumble around him. He is seriously considering taking his own life, when he runs into the mysterious woman “Someone-san” and winds up leading him to a drop-in center that’s run by a local non-profit, and is also a hub for a number of queer people in the community. The books follow Tasuku as he grows, learns, makes mistakes, and confronts his feelings, along with a number of other members at the drop-in center. It is completely beautiful, optimistic, but also quite stark and harsh at its look at homophobia and transphobia in modern Japanese society and how it can effect people in different ways. I just bought book four and can’t wait to read it and see how everything ends.

Day Fourteen: Queer Book That Made You Cry

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

Holy shit guys. Listen. Listen. If you don’t read any other book on this list, please consider reading The Marrow Thieves. It is hands down the best book I’ve read so far this year. Another book that doesn’t have a queer character as the protag, but as one of the main supporting characters and listen, his story fucking destroyed me as a person. That romance just… aaaaaaah. AAAAAAAAH.

Anyway. The Marrow Thieves is a Canadian dystopian novel. It takes place in a post-climate change world in which society has been ravaged – partially due to the wildly different and extreme weather patterns, but also through a strange disease that has spread through the population that has left people completely incapable of dreaming. Now unable to rest, process their lives, and dream of a future, people are being driven insane and only one group appears to be immune: North America’s First Nations people appear to be unaffected. And so they begin to be harvested, rounded up and collected in “school” in order for people to suck the marrow out of them to give to white people afflicted by this disease. The Marrow Thieves follows a First Nations boy named Frenchie as he flees the recruiters and tries his best to survive in this post-apocalyptic like wilderness, banding together with other First Nations people who are heading north, where they hope to find communities of their own people with whom they can shelter and start to rebuild their lives.

It’s a YA level novel, not very long, and such an insanely good read. I cannot emphasize enough PLEASE GO READ THIS BOOK.

Day Fifteen: Queer Book That Made You LOL

Mostly Void, Partially Stars by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor

Welcome to Nightvale always makes me laugh and it was a lot of fun to get to read the transcripts of the episodes. I’m a sucker for novelizations/transcripts of shows. It was a nice nostalgia trip and gave me an excuse to go back and relisten to some of my favourite episodes too! If you’ve never gotten into Nightvale… hey, it’s a classic! Podcast is fucking stunning if you’re into podcasts, and if you’re not but would enjoy a weird, queer, eldritch horror comedy then try the book! It’s the first “season” compiled in text form, exactly how it’s heard in the show.

Day Sixteen: Queer Book That Is Really Personal To You

Jughead volume 1 by Chip Zdarsky et al

Including this one because gee golly it sure did make me want to fight a lot of people for quite a while. It was one of the first stories I ever found/read that had an explicitly asexual main character… (and a character I already really loved! Which I now got to feel an even stronger connection to! It was so fun and validating!) so it was super awesome how like half of tumblr decided for a year there that this was apparently a cardinal sin. Imagine… one single version of old, long standing comic series deciding to retcon a character to represent a heavily under-represented community… imagine being so fucking angry about that that you decide to start a hate campaign on the internet. So much fun to live through that as an ace person. Anyway, these comics were nothing amazing but I sure do love them aggressively out of pure spite, even now that the aphobia on tumblr has died back down I will hold this to my chest and adore it.

Day Seventeen: Favourite Queer Book Sequel or Spin Off

The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee

Honestly do I even need to say anything here? Is there any queer person who hasn’t read Mackenzi Lee’s The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue series? If you are someone who hasn’t read it yet… go do that?? Absolutely stunning, one of my all-time favourite book series. It’s the perfect combination of hilarious and goofy, intense action, heartfelt character development, and a dash of “wait was that supernatural or??” This sequel was fantastic, this time focusing on Felicity, Monty’s sister, and her quest to become a physician despite being a woman in the 18th century. Awesome look at femininity, feminism, asexuality, and race. (Also… OT3? OT3.)

Day Eighteen: Favourite Queer Book By A Favourite Author

Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett

One of those “ehh is this technically queer? Not really but close enough, it is in my heart” books. It was one of the books I read as a teenager when I was still beginning to seek out and try to explore queer lit in so much as I could.

Terry Pratchett is, hands down, my favourite author, and though he doesn’t tend to write explicitly queer literature, his exploration of gender through allegory is top fucking tier. Everything to do with the dwarves in his series is fascinating, and a really great challenge/critique/exploration of gender, and this is the book that takes it to the next level (and brings in at least implicitly queer characters). It’s about Polly Perks, who lives in a small, war torn nation, choosing to join the army in order to find out what happened to her brother. However, as tradition dictates, she can’t join as a girl… so she disguises herself as Ozzer, a young man. There’s a lot of twists and turns, and as always Pratchett delivers fantastic humour and just absolutely delicious satire.

Day Nineteen: Queer Book That Changed Your Life

And Tango Makes Three by Justin Richardson

This was the book that made me realize that I, as a queer teacher, could have queer kid lit in my future classroom. Maybe a comparatively small revelation, but a really important one to me. It made me realize that this didn’t need to be something I kept a secret in my professional life and which could really positively influence children, especially queer children. It was the first queer children’s book I ever bought.

Day Twenty: Favourite Queer Book Series

Candy Color Paradox by Isaku Natsume

Alright… I’ll admit it, this isn’t actually my favourite series, but I’ve used my favourites in other spots. And this is a good one! Definitely more of an actual “yaoi” than the other manga I’ve included (here there be sex) but it has a very different vibe that what I’m used to from that type of manga. The main pair are actually both capable, mature adults, with careers they actively care about, and who get together in the first volume!

The rest of the series is less about them angst-ily toeing around their relationship, and much more about them learning to grow as a couple and balance their work and relationship and society. It’s funny and sweet, and I really enjoy these two losers. It’s a very low-stakes enemy-to-friends-to-lovers story, in which Onoe (a reporter) and Kaburagi (a photographer) are paired up on a news story they’re supposed to dig into together. What starts as a bickering rivalry gradually becomes respect, friendship, and love~ Onoe is a gremlin of a protag, so he’s a treat to follow.

Day Twenty-One: Queer Book That You Recommend A Lot

Mask of Shadows by Linsey Miller

To repeat myself: Linsey Miller is awesome! This is my favourite book of hers, the first of a duology. It’s kind of like an intense, edgy Tamora Pierce novel with murder. In this world, the Queen has a team of assassins known as the Left Hand. They’re an elite group that keeps the Queen safe and does the dirty work that needs to be done to protect the kingdom and keep the encroaching nations at bay. When the assassin Opal is killed, a contest is announced to find the new Opal. People from all over come to complete for the honour of being one of the Queen’s royal assassins, including gender-fluid thief Sallot Leon. Sal has some deep motivations to become Opal that go beyond a loyalty to their kingdom, but they’re going to have to survive their competitors if they even wants a chance at it… (Sal generally goes by either she or he in the books, but I’m using they in this instance since it’s in a more general sense.)

Day Twenty-Two: Queer Book That Made You Take Action

The Deep by Rivers Solomon

Uhh, I don’t really have any books that made me take action per se, but this one sure gave me a lot to think about. It’s about deep sea mermaids who originated from the pregnant slave women tossed into the ocean to drown during passage to North America. From those dying women, this race was born and were taken in by whales, raised and protected until they could descend into the deep ocean waters, to form their own safe society. Their collective past is so painful though that as a species they’ve developed a very short term memory. But a people can’t live without any ties to their roots and so one of them, the Historian, holds all the memories for their entire species and shares it with everyone once a year so that the community can be connected to their ancestors before once again returning the memories to the Historian for safe keeping. Yetu, the current Historian, is so overwhelmed by these memories, that she can no longer take it – she flees her people, her responsibilities, and her pain and escapes to the surface instead...

Day Twenty-Three: Queer Book By An Author Who I Killed Is Dead

Cybersix by Carlos Trillo

I cannot emphasize enough, this is not actually a queer comic, it is in fact a very homophobic, transphobic and sexist comic written by a horrible person.

That being said, he’s dead and I own it now the TV series was essentially about a genderqueer superhero and a very confused bi biology professor who has a crush on both personas. I had a passionate crush on both personas as a child, and I will cherrypick this comic until I die in order to enjoy the only kickass genderqueer/genderfluid noir antihero I’ve come across. I am valid and I am not open to debate or discussion. Do not read this comic it’s horrible (but consider watching the show).

Day Twenty-Four: Queer Book You Wish You’d Read When Younger

The Prince and the Dressmaker by Jen Wang

This is such an incredibly soft story with the nicest art. There’s so much understanding and compassion in it and its exploration of gender and self-confidence and being true to yourself would have been very reassuring to me as a child, especially by late elementary/middle school.

Day Twenty-Five: Queer Book In A Historical Setting

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

A retelling of Achilles’ and Patroclus’ relationship from childhood to the Trojan war. So yeah, you can imagine that this was also a candidate for Day 14 :’) I haven’t read this one in years but god it was lovely and emotionally destroyed me as a person.

Day Twenty-Six: Queer Superhero Book or Comic

Overwatch: Reflections by Michael Chu and Miki Montillo

I don’t really read superhero stories very often (the comics have always driven me a little bonkers, trying to find a way to enter the totally unapproachable Marvel/DC canons, and the MCU burnt me out years ago for every other sort of superhero story) so this is the closest I can get. Tracer’s a superhero yeah? Anyway, I, like every other queer person in the Overwatch fandom, lost my fucking mind when this dropped for Christmas a few years back and officially declared Lena Oxton not only the face of the entire franchise but also a lesbian. It’s an adorable little comic and Tracer’s girlfriend is a sweetheart.

Day Twenty-Seven: Favourite Queer Children’s Picture Book

Prince & Knight by Daniel Haack

There’s a number of sweet queer children’s books that are popping up these days, but this is my favourite just because it’s less about “explaining the gays to children” (though those books also have their place) and more of a cute little fantasy adventure in which the actual protagonist is gay. It’s about a prince who sets out to find himself a bride who can help rule by his side, but it quickly becomes clear that he isn’t interested in any of the girls. Instead, when a fire breathing dragon threatens his kingdom, he meets a brave knight who fights along side him. It’s very supportive and the art is lovely.

Day Twenty-Eight: Queer Book That Made You Feel Uncomfortable

Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann

This is a book with an asexual protagonist that I was originally really excited for. I know there are a lot of people out there who really enjoy this book and connected with it, but it didn’t do it for me. Maybe because my expectations were too high, but the protagonist’s experience with asexuality was vastly different than my own and the narrative voice ended up rubbing me wrong (and let’s be honest, slice-of-life romance is NOT my usual genre at all). So it’s not “made me uncomfortable because it’s Bad And Wrong” more just… totally vibed wrong with me. Maybe the perfect book for other people but definitely not for me, I had to return this one unfinished because it’s portrayal of asexuality just made me so deeply uncomfortable.

Day Twenty-Nine: Queer Book That Made You Want To Fall In Love

The Gentleman’s Guide To Vice And Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

This book had to make it on here somewhere, and honestly it could have gone in a lot of different spots, but I chose to put it here because the relationship between Monty and Percy is so incredibly sweet and authentic it really does make you want something like that. TGGTVAV (for anyone who has somehow not heard of it) takes place in the 18th century, and is about Monty, his best friend (and crush) Percy, and his sister Felicity going on a final “hurrah” tour of Europe before Monty's father finally tries to pin him down in England and force every part of Monty that’s deemed “unacceptable” out of him. So Monty intends to live this summer up… until everything goes off the rail and the three of them are suddenly fleeing across the continent with assassins at their heels and a strange, stolen artifact in their possession.

Monty has a lot of growing to do in this novel, and that’s one of my favourite things about it. For his and Percy’s relationship to ever have a chance, Monty needs to learn and change and actually communicate with other people, and it makes the relationship feel strong. Not a fluffy, surface level romance that often happens in YA but something built from the ground up by two friends who really want to make it work. Ahh, it’s lovely. One of my favourite novels.

Day Thirty: Queer Book With Your Favourite Ending

My Brother’s Husband by Gengoroh Tagame

A two-book manga series that was completely stunning. It deals with queer relationships and homophobia in a very stark, real-world manner that you don’t often get in manga, while still being incredibly loving and sympathetic. The book is about Yaichi, a single father whose estranged brother (Ryoji) recently died. One day, a Canadian named Mike arrives, introducing himself as Ryoji’s widower. Mike had come hoping to visit his late husband’s homeland to try to get some closure, and Yaichi ends up inviting Mike to stay. The whole story looks Japan’s societal biases, through Mike’s experiences, Yaichi’s thoughts, feelings and prejudices, and those of his daughter who adores Mike.

Seriously, this is one of the kindest, most earnest looks I’ve ever seen to internal prejudices that critiques them without demonizing the person who feels them. Instead it lovingly embraces grief, growth, and love. This series made me cry multiple times, was good enough that even my straight brother practically ordered me to go out and buy the second book when he finished the first, and the ending was just *chef’s kiss*

Honourable Mentions

A few books I really wanted to fit on my list somehow but couldn’t quite manage it, so here: All Out an anthology of historical fiction short stories about queer teens. The Tea Dragon Society series and Princess Princess Ever After, graphic novels by the amazingly talented Katie O’Neill. Heartstopper a webcomic turn graphic novel by Alice Oseman about a pair of rugby players. The Different Dragon a cute picture book in which the boy has two moms and which is about accepting different ways of being. And Lady Knight a part of Tamora Pierce’s Protector of the Small series because because Kel is word-of-god aro(and/or ace) and I’ve adored that series and Kel since I was about thirteen so by god I’ll take it.

Now for those that wanted to do their own challenge, I found it on @gailcarriger’s blog.

57 notes · View notes

pinehutch · 4 years

Text

Niche Interests

A little while ago, @mia-ugly tagged me to talk about 10 niche interests of mine. I don’t really know what counts as a niche so I’ve been making occasional notes about this over the last week.

The hardest part of this for me is either that I’m not very interesting or more likely, that I’m a generalist. Like, I would give myself a solid B in many, many areas that could be considered “niche” - I love learning.

But here are some things that I can and will reliably nerd out over if someone else brings them up!

1. Curly hair care. I’ve got naturally curly hair and didn’t really know how to look after it until my early twenties. Now I know many things about it, including where to get good curly hair products in Canada. Genuinely, if you have curly hair and want to chat about it you can always message me or send me an ask and I’m happy to try to help. (These days I am really loving Inahsi Naturals and Ecoslay; yes I have drugstore and grocery store recs as well.)

Also, more seriously: I would also encourage any white or other non-Black person who is frustrated with their own curly hair to also spend some time reading on natural hair movement to try to learn about the history and politics of Black hair in particular. If it’s within your means and you’re already buying specialised products for textured hair, I encourage you to to look into Black-owned businesses.

2. Canadian Poetry in English, especially 1960-present. I could narrow this down further but c’mon, how many people genuinely want to hear me go on about those slim volumes that I accumulate? But like, I grew up on my mom’s hand-me-down volumes of Canadian poetry from Confederation to the 1980′s; at age 16 I was co-oping for a prof at the local university as part of building a collected works on a Canadian poet and painter, and clamouring to go to lit conferences; in university I showed up with a good chunk of the curriculum already read; etc. Total nerd.

3. Edible plants of Ontario. I don’t actually forage because I don’t have access to land where I think it’s appropriate for me to, but I grew up on ~80 acres of mixed forest in central Ontario, and my grandfather liked to show us what was safe to eat. I will never turn my nose up at ramps, and I think I may have remembered my dad’s secret morel spot he took us to as kids, to check out next spring. The list of what else is out there is long and still lodged in my brain.

4. Fat acceptance, fat positivity, and a bit about plus-size fashion: in the early-to-mid 2000′s I discovered the fatshionista community on livejournal and it changed my life, which I say without hyperbole. I was looking for tips on finding “cute clothes,” and what I found was a pathway into learning about intersectionality. The people who ran and were highly vocal in that community did a lot of hard work in those years trying to dismantle not only internalized and external fatphobia, but also ableism, racism, and queerphobia. I’ve spent over fifteen years now consciously trying to dismantle fatphobia in myself and in the people around me, as a part of the work. (I’m not as well-grounded in the fashion side of things anymore, but I try sometimes.)

5. History and development of the English language. I’m definitely just an armchair expert, but holy shit do I love this awful language, and how it came to be and continues to become. I minored in linguistics in university, and I used to be able construe Old English on the fly. I believe wholeheartedly in linguistic parity and I don’t mean that English is better than other languages; this is just the one I understand best.

6. (This one is really boring I’m not even going to bold it) public sector procurement law and practice in Canada. It’s not a field I’m in anymore, but I was for a while. How (literally, how, not just on what) do your governments spend your money?

7. Ghost stories, yours and mine. Tell me your spookiest stories, please please please. My favourite thing to do in October is cram my eyeballs full of the entries in the Jezebel scary stories contest, in part because of the conceit that the stories are ‘true.’ I’ve always been interested in the unseen or barely-seen in general, including 20 years with an active interest in modern witchcraft (and a trailing one, still).

Actually, that’s a good segue to

8. Divination, kind of. I’m not an expert or even any kind of practitioner, anymore, but I know a little bit about a lot of different methods and their histories and application. Enough that I could quickly find my way to good research if I wanted to incorporate some of these things in a work of fiction, and I am always keen to listen to other people talk about their experiences and practices.

9. Okay, I didn’t want to admit it but: Dragon Age (all media types). I definitely did not intend to become someone with a high degree of fluency in a fantasy video game world but here’s how it happened: about seven years ago I started experiencing chronic fatigue, joint pain, and stiffness. By February 2014 there were days when I couldn’t walk. I was diagnosed (quite quickly) with rheumatoid arthritis and my immune system and I are still in a bit of a fight about it. On one of those days when I couldn’t leave home, I picked up Dragon Age: Origins and started a playthrough, and it turned out that gaming was exactly the right amount of distracting but not intensive that worked for me when I was in pain, most of the time. But I’ve played the games, read the books, own the encyclopedias and the TTRPG books, have read codices and wikis and reams of meta. My DA fervour is pretty low these days (it’s been six years since a new game came out, after all), but it may yet come back. (What I love about it is mostly to do with characters and setting: it rewards close reading and a historiographical lens.)

The best part about all of this is that I’ve never really been arsed about dragons, as such.

10. (This feels like cheating but) vegetarian food, and the role of meat and animal products in food cultures. (Also, like, the politics and culture of food in general.) First-off, I should say that I’m not a vegan or vegetarian unless you want me to select my entree for your wedding. I don’t eat meat most of the time, but I do eat dairy most days, eggs a few times each week, and eat fish or seafood semi-regularly. I’ve been meat-averse for most of my life, though there are times when I’ve craved it and continue to. As a result, I tend to plan and cook mostly veg meals; it’s just second nature now. I tend to keep a general awareness of how to Make Things From Plants because it’s also just useful knowledge to have - blender ice cream with coconut milk and peanut butter and cocoa powder is just more convenient when it’s 35C outside than cooking custard, you know?

I do think that the plant-based eating movement has a huge, huge problem with classism, ableism, fatphobia, and racism, and so I try to keep my own interest in eating in veg-adjacent ways as an interest for me, not as a cause or goal.

Tagging: @mareebrittenford @taksez @glowcrizzle @thisnewdevilry @19thcenturyfox @kungfulola @horse-badorties @fullcuntact and anyone else that is keen to talk about their niche interests.

#upon reflection I am incredibly boring #also let's talk about music babey!#also modernist lit #also fanworks as a concept #also also also also also #you see my problem!

33 notes · View notes

eatprayworm · 4 years

Text

without fox demons, no village is complete: an essay on tsomd’s li zilong and fox spirits

The big bad of The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty live action series, Li Zilong, is in many ways a mystery. We never learn his real motivations for wanting to take down the emperor, and there’s so many odd details about him that don’t add up (how did he disappear in thin air from Wang Zhi?). I propose a theory that provides an explanation for this antagonist: he is a fox spirit. I use a combination of sources to come to this conclusion. Let’s read.

The Real Li Zilong

A good place to start is the history of the real life Li Zilong. According to “The Eunuchs of the Ming Dynasty” by Shih-shan Henry Tsai, the Chenghua emperor established the Western Depot in 1477, with Wang Zhi at the helm. What made the emperor create the Western Depot? Well! The original mission of the Depot was to investigate the case of Li Zilong, a “transvestite” (the book’s words, not mine) who allegedly practiced witchcraft and had magical abilities. Li Zilong worked with a court eunuch to sneak into the imperial harem and mingle with superstitious women. And so, the Chenghua emperor created the Western Depot and had Wang Zhi search for any other witches or strange people. Wang Zhi went on to become a terror in the lives of many common folk.

So, the real Li Zilong was tied to mystical practices.

The Book Li Zilong

What about Li Zilong in the novel? Well! I haven’t read the novel so I can’t fully speak to it, but I’ve read some passages that describe Li Zilong. In chapter 3, Tang Fan discusses the Demon Fox Case, about a golden fox demon who was sent in to kill the emperor. This demon fox was said to be killed by the Ming Dynasty’s founding emperor. There was also a Taoist named Li Zilong who appeared around the same time, and for whatever reason, the court associated Li Zilong with the fox, and he was executed. After Li Zilong was executed, the emperor established the Western Depot so he’d have a more reliable source of information.

Since I haven’t read the novel, I can’t say if Li Zilong is really dead or if there’s more information on this case. I’d love to hear if there is! Otherwise, what we can infer here is that Li Zilong was, most likely, a fox demon spirit out to kill the emperor.

The book is not the show, though, so this could be dismissed. However, I propose that the show version of Li Zilong is indeed a fox spirit. To better explain why I believe this, we need to understand a few things about Chinese fox spirits.

What are fox spirits?

There is a very long history of fox spirits in Chinese lore. I’ve done a few hours of research, but I am by no means an expert, so take all of this with a grain of salt. Likewise, fox spirits are called many terms (huxian, humei, huli jing, to name just a few) and they have various roles within ancient lore. For the purposes of this essay, I’ll focus on some general fox spirit information.

There are some generally accepted lore about fox spirits. According to old records, fox spirits have long lives and can take different forms depending on their age. When they reach 500 years, they can take the form of a beautiful woman, a handsome man, or an old wise scholar. When they reach 1,000 years, they may enter the heavens and become a celestial fox.

In some stories, foxes are seen as good omens who bring wealth and fortune to humans. In other stories, foxes take human form and seduce men or women. In others still, foxes are seen as signs of misfortune, sorcery, and rebellion.

Powers

Fox spirits are noted to have particular traits and powers, including:

strike their tail on the ground to cause fire

the ability to possess humans

ability to see into the future

can see events up to 1,000 li away

invisibility

pass through walls

a cunning and trickster disposition

Motives

The motives of foxes vary. Some have no moral alignment. Others seek to play mischief and tricks on humans; others steal the spirits of men so they may increase their own.

There are also tales of fox spirits taking revenge, either for themself or a deceased individual. To quote one source, “Typically in folklore the Chinese fox had two basic motives, to show its powerful shape-shifting ability by assuming the form of a person or demon to achieve the second motive: that of revenge for some crime it perceived, real or imagined.”

Interestingly, this is not the only source to discuss fox spirits and revenge. One tale speaks to a fox who cursed three generations because it was harmed by the family. Another source states, “...the Chinese revenge-fox stories: the killed fox is able to punish his murderer, being almost as clever as he is.”

Li Zilong? A Fox?

Now, why do I think the show!Li Zilong could be one of these crafty fox spirits? It’s a combination of canon clues and some inferences on my part. Let’s begin!

Age & Revenge

Li Zilong tells Princess Gu’an that he is a descendant of the Li family, who ruled during the Tang dynasty. The Tang Dynasty. What’s interesting to note is that the Tang Dynasty ended in the beginning of the 900’s - over 550 years before the present day in the show. Why would a descendant from this very old royal family have it out for the emperor? And what does this have to do with foxes?

The Tang Dynasty was the height of fox and fox spirit worship. The Tang Scholar Zhang Zuo noted: “From the beginning of the Tang Dynasty, many of the commoners worshipped fox deities. They offer sacrifices to them in their bedchambers, and food and drink offered are the same as those consumed by humans. At the time there was proverb saying ‘without fox demons, no village is complete.’”

There are other mentions of fox demons and their roles as gods. In one instance, dozens of “fox demons” appeared at a temple honor Li Jing, a Tang Dynasty general who was revered as a god. In another instance, a temple was erected for the “fox kings” in the land. In the year 1110, the Grand Councilor ordered that 1,000 fox-king shrines should be destroyed. (Li Jing? Some demon foxes being called huli jing? interesting coincidences.)

So. We have Li Zilong, who was a descendant of the royal family that ruled during the height of fox worship. What’s more, Li Zilong wears the same type of headpiece that the Chenghua emperor wears.

Was Li Zilong truly the descendant of royalty? Or, is he perhaps royalty from the era itself, a remnant of the fox kings of old? After all, why would a descendant of the Tang Dynasty care about an emperor who lived hundreds of years later, unless he’s been around long enough to have a reason to care? Could he, like his book counterpart, have been slighted by the Ming Dynasty’s founding emperor?

When he finally confronts the emperor, he stares and says he’s waited a long time for this day. Maybe he’s waited over a hundred years.

Photos for reference:

Powers & Omens

Li Zilong exhibits traditional powers of fox spirits.

Invisibility. When Wang Zhi and he are walking out of the brothel, he tells Wang Zhi to look away. Wang Zhi looks away for a few seconds, turns back, and Li Zilong is gone. There’s no hint that he leaped away; he seemed to disappear out of thin air. Or, perhaps, he simply turned invisible. He pulls a similar trick when Tang Fan sees him across the street, but he disappears after a carriage goes by. Naturally, he probably hopped on the carriage. But….what if he didn’t. Additionally, how did Li Zilong get into the brothel when he was holding the meeting with the Oirats? Why was he so unafraid to be in public when he was literally public enemy number one? Only someone who could disappear quickly could have such confidence.

Precognition/knowledge. Li Zilong knew everything about everyone, even when it didn’t make sense for him to know these things. How did he know so much about the chicken cup? How could he predict the moves of the heroes again and again and again? How did he know the history of individuals so well? Sure, he had men that kept him informed. He had Qing Ge. But his ability to not only know so many past and current events, and keep a thumb on so many individuals and schemes (like the Yunhe silver situation) for years is very, very impressive. Almost inhumanly impressive.

Fire. Now, Li Zilong himself does not have the power of fire, but he sure is attracted to it. Ding Rong describes the explosions of the bolang as a sea of fire - and wouldn’t that appeal to a fox who can strike fire with his tail? Imagine being able to amplify this natural ability. Li Zilong seemed to grow particularly protective and fond of the bolangs; his eyes would light up, he asked for far more than he ever needed. A fox with a penchant for fire indeed.

Wealth & Rebellion. Li Zilong fits the archetype of the fox being both a benefactor and an ill omen. He says time and time again that he’s a businessman, and indeed he is: he fills the pockets of men (and himself) with gold, so long as they follow him. Sounds almost like worship? And wouldn’t an old fox king just love that? Additionally, Li Zilong is considered a rascal, an outsider, a rebel; Shang Ming, Wan An, and Wan Tong will collude with him, but they still deem him an “other”, an outside force. Fox spirits were typically seen as the other, as a sign of chaos.

Miscellaneous

Here’s some additional details I picked up while rewatching that lend some credence to my fox theory.

Fox Rings. On one of his hands, Li Zilong wears orange and black rings, side by side. These colors are typically associated with foxes.

2. Actual fox reference. In episode 47, Li Zilong warns Qing Ge that you cannot run from the eyes of the “three old foxes.” These mean the corrupt officials, of course. But what’s even more curious is what Dong’er tells the emperor: don’t run from Li Zilong, because he will always find you. So who is really the old fox here?

3. Qing Ge. One of the most common tales of fox spirits is them taking on the form of beautiful women to enchant men. Li Zilong adopting a skilled courtesan who canonically has men falling at her feet? Could this old fox king see a potential fox spirit in this adoptive daughter?

4. Tang Fan. In the Encyclopedia of Demons in World Religions and Cultures, the author states that “huli jing are especially fond of attacking virtuous scholars, as reasonable and virtuous people enrage them.” Li Zilong focused on Tang Fan as his real enemy. Not Sui Zhou. Not Wang Zhi. And why, when all three would eventually lead to his downfall? Because I think Tang Fan was the exact kind of scholar who Li Zilong couldn’t outsmart and beat, and he hated it.

5. Eyes. When Li Zilong falls down and dies, his eyes briefly change color. They flash from grey to silver; in the next scene, they’re brown again. What happened here? What spirit has left him? Could it be the death of a very old fox?

Conclusion

Fox or human? Descendant or royalty? Who knows what a Li Zilong is, but I think we can certainly assume he isn’t human - and may be the trickster from old. Ultimately, this is just my headcanon. At the end of the day, he may just be an old man who wanted to cause havoc for the hell of it. But I think this is a fun theory to entertain, and it gives him far more depth and intrigue than canon gave him otherwise.

Again, I am no expert in Chinese lore or Chinese fox spirits. Any mistakes are mine, and I’m certainly open to corrections!

#the sleuth of ming dynasty #tsomd #li zilong #huli jing li zilong #if anyone reads this kudos to you LOL #i figured if i was gonna write more of this au i should explain some of my thought processes #hastily written and not well edited bc whatever #lmao #mine

29 notes · View notes

tsikuri · 5 years

Text

Aztlán. (Instituto Mexicano de Magia y Hechicería)

Aztlán, Mexican Institute of Witchcraft and Magic

I AM SO SO SO SORRY FOR MY SHITTY ENGLISH AS YOU CAN SEE IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. *LLORA EN ESPAÑOL*

Okay so, this is how I imagine the Mexican school of magic, it called Aztlán! People thought (think) it was an island but is actually a place full of magic energy. Well I was having a lot of thoughts about putting two schools or just one at the end I decided just put one and include a way to transport from the north to the south because the school is in the south hehehe So the school is kinda…

I’m going to describe a Little bit of the history I thought for the school… -Before the arriving from the Spaniels, in Mesoamerica were a lot of cultures, but the área with the most magic energy is the one I put in the image -All the cultures decided that the área it was going to be protected. So the date of since when the practice of magic started in Mexico is unknown. -When the Spaniels arrived everything become more complicated because of the conquering, so it was decided that this magic place it should be totally secret that is the reason why the emperors where killed, because the Spaniels Heard legends about a magical place but they didn’t know how to get there. -People were still living in Aztlán but everything was under a low profile it was really weird to encounter a magician outside, normally they were searching for kids with magic abilities to bring them to the school before something bad happened to them or somebody noticed that magic exists. -When the people from Aztlan discovered that they were not the only people in the world with magic they were kinda relieved. Anyway, they were really discreet with who should visit the city.

-After the Independence of Mexico, everything becomes more easy for the people with the magic, of course, normal people could not found out about Aztlan but the wizarding world was a different story! -They didn’t have wands or brooms, that was a thing the Europeans brought with them after Independence. So all the magic was with their hands, with magic runes or magical objects that they created! -Oh! They didn’t have Quidditch either! They played a thing called “Juego de pelota” it was very popular. Now if you win you have not sacrificed anymore! Okay, I think that’s all you need to know about the history of Aztlán, I will continue with how the school Works n-n

Yes, you need to climb all those stairs if you want to speak with somebody from the directive table. -After the Independence, some foreign wizards & native wizards talked and decided that Aztlán should become a school for all the magic kids in México. Because with all the marriages between indígenas (natives from México) and foreign, it was difficult to know who had magic. -So yeah! Nothing of “You are not pure-blood” thing here!! -This school has the highest “muggle-borns wizards” registered. -The entrance to Aztlán is complicated, even the most experienced wizard can get lost. -You can enter in two ways: by flying or swimming. You can’t enter by walking, just magical creatures can do that, that’s why they are in charge of the luggage. -The wizards who live near from the school normally take a bus or they fly in a broom to a designed touristic área and there is going to be a tourist guide who has the instructions of taking you to a cenote. (Of course, this tourist guide is a wizard and the touristic área is a facade x’D)

This is a cenote! And you need to swim in there because it’s a magic portal! There are a lot of magic cenotes so the kids are always split into groups so it’s probably you never enter to Aztlán from the same cenote twice. All this to not call too much attention, cenotes are really popular in México.

-This is kinda how the magical cenote Works. Oh, they give you some magic food so you can breathe underwater and don’t die!

Well, that’s the way people from near states enter to Aztlán for the people from the North of México (cof cof me cof cof) they have this magic creature Quetzalcoátl!!

(Credits to this girl)

-Quetzalcoatl is a feathered snake.

-The night before starting classes they fly across the sky and they pick up the students who live really far away from the school. They do this at night because they are really colourful so yeah, you can’t do that in daylight. -This Quetzalcoatls are the small ones the major Quetzalcoatl is hidden and it was one of the most important gods in the ancient era. -And please, don’t bother or disrespect them, they eat humans, please. DON’T INTERACT WITH THEM WITHOUT AN EXPERT. -Now, how do you know you are a wizard that has been accepted in Aztlán? Easy! The water becomes liquid gold when you touch it! -Well kind of, technically if you are in a garden of something is going to appear something covered in gold. If you are washing your hands suddenly the water is going to turn into some Golden liquid. If you are not doing any of these things the tips of your fingers are going to look like you painted them or something. And yeah, these are the signals. If literally, no one of your family has studied in Aztlán a professor is going to appear in your door a few days later explaining to your parents what the fuck is happening.

-Aztlan is the kind of school where you can go home whenever you want if you live nearby (We can’t have quetzalcoatls flying everywhere all the time) So yeah, sorry if you are from far away. -You can go out after the third year! Just be careful. -They have, summer vacation, Winter vacation, spring break and a few days in September! -It’s not divided into houses or anything like that, but after the fifth year you need to choose a specialization so they divide the groups depending on that. -The speciality of Aztlán is no-wand magic, magical objects and magic runes. It has a really good work plan in magizoology too, but the creatures here a lot of them are kinda aggressive because they are the ones who protect the barriers of Aztlán.

-THey teach magic with a wand buuuut according to your year the thing becomes interesting because you need to stop using your wand, to the point where you can do almost everything without it. It’s really common to see people with their wand in their bags or in the sleeves but not using them. -Now we have a quidditch team! -The curfew it’s at 9:30pm. It’s really dangerous been outside after that hour, you never know what can eat you. -The infirmary is normally full of firsts and seconds year. Yep. They never follow the rules. -You can’t bring pets because, again, you never know what it’s out there and can eat you. -Animals are pretty common in Aztlan, normally really big. And with a lot of colours. Jaguars are the most dangerous (they are not normal jaguars) but if you train one they can carry your luggage! DON’T INTERACT WITH THEM WITHOUT AN EXPERT.

-Aaaand you don’t write letters here, you just make an alebrije and leave it in the “Correobrije”. But if you want a normal way to send a letter, you can just write it and go to the nearest city.

-Also, people thought this was the lost city of “El Dorado” but that city is lost in some part of South America hahaha.

I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS BUT I CAN’T THINK IN ENGLISH ANYMORE!!! IF YOU DID NOT UNDERSTAND OR WANT TO ADD SOMETHING PLEASE TELL ME I WILL BE REALLY HAPPY IN ANSWERING YOUR QUESTIONS D’x

I WANT TO SHOW ALL MY GRATITUDE TO @hannahsecretchamber FOR THIS AWESOME CHALLENGE D’x

If this school actually existed Raine & Jacob would be fine

#Harry Potter #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwartsmystery #challenge #wizarding schools #wizardschools #Mexico #Aztlan #Almost all the images are from the movie El Dorado #I'm laughing so hard #Sorry for my english #again #I hope you like it!#IM SO NERVOUS

168 notes · View notes

heavenlyhillz · 4 years

Text

I am Who I am

This is new to me, blogging..but I came here, because being who I am, I can’t really be me, anywhere else, online.

There is a stigma, when someone hears the words “witch” or “witchcraft”...It is sometimes laughed off, or ignorant and hurtful comments can be made. Some even think that you have mental health issues, if you tell them that you’re a Witch. I wish it was different...I wish people didn’t assume the worst about people like me. I am not evil, or wicked...but I am different, and perhaps a little strange. I’m also caring, loving, kind, generous, compassionate, funny, helpful, intelligent, and some say, wise.

I grew up in a large family, who believed that we should not expose ourselves, publicly, for fear of ridicule, condemnation, or even persecution and only a chosen few would be told. Some of my family actually chose not to practice, because they didn’t want to be associated with the stigmas, but the rest of us didn’t really want to lose our history, so we continued on our family path.

To be clear, we do not follow, and have never followed the religion, Wicca. We have nothing against the religion, or the people that practice Wicca...it’s just not our way of life. Our traditions are much older, passed down from generation, to generation (usually from mother to daughter), on my mother’s maternal side...However, sons were taught as well, if interested. My brothers were never interested, really, other than in gardening and knowing nature, and I think that if one of my brothers, actually had decided to practice...it wouldn’t be good...for anyone.

Daughters would start learning very young, with the teachings of herbs, flowers, gardening, etc...and at the age of 13, in my family lineage, there would be a Celebration of Maturity - the beginning of womanhood. For me...I loved that day..it was special, and brought me closer to the feminine side of my family! My mother was very skilled, in many different ways, and an excellent teacher...I learned so much from her! She was a healer, clairvoyant, and excellent in almost every form of casting, but her preferences were tea reading, facial reading (after she became blind), and herbal magic...She passed away in 2006, and I inherited all of her “Craft” belongings, because I was the only one in my family, that chose to pay close attention to her teachings,...even though I am not the only one to follow the family path, or to practice.

. My Great-Grandmother was called a “Wise Woman”, and in her time, she had to hide her tools of the “Craft” because of persecution, and to this day, Witch Hunts have never truly ended...It is still illegal to be a Witch, in many countries...and in some, the sentence is death. My Great-Grandmother was afraid of being arrested, but she still practiced, until her dying day, in solitude, and secrecy...in the kitchen.

It was the worst kept secret, in her little town, that she was a witch. Quite a few people actually knew who she was, and would come to her, for help of all sorts; to heal a broken heart, to end a cold, bring prosperity to a farm, etc..to even revenge against someone. She never charged for anything, but in thanks, people would bring her food, things they had made for her, flowers, or “sweet treats”, which I always assumed were baked goods, or chocolates, but I never asked. I guess it doesn’t really matter, anymore, but that work ethic, of never charging anyone anything, and always being there for someone in need, certainly didn’t start with her, but it definitely won’t end with me, or my generation.

A couple of my siblings, had been teaching their children, our ways, and I’m currently teaching my children, so they can carry on our family legacy. In this day and age though, it’s a little more difficult to teach. Kids these days, want to fit in and be accepted, but don’t want to be ostracized from their peers, and they don’t see it as “cool” to practice the Old ways..They’re more interested in technology...

In my little family, only my youngest is actually interested in really learning. They are wise beyond their years, and very intuitive! Always seems to know what people will say or do, before those people do or say, what they want. It’s amazing to see that they are like a Chess Master..steps ahead of others! So eager to master “Kitchen Witchery’, too, through cooking and baking! I’ve a very proud Mama Witch!

I knew my youngest would be interested in the “Craft”, but I actually expected my oldest child to be more interested, than they are, since they are a Sensitive, like me. When my oldest was little, and I’m sure still today, they used to see and be able to communicate with the dead...The famous words, “I see dead people!”, wasn’t just in the movie “The Sixth Sense”, but came out of my child’s mouth, when they were 7 years old. We would go places, and they could tell me who died where, how they died, and would walk up to people and tell them that someone they knew (who had passed away) wanted to let them know...well, whatever it was, that they wanted to say! My oldest child is a quiet person, who really doesn’t like crowds, or public speaking, and they wouldn’t go in to different places, if they didn’t “feel good” about it..For now, my oldest can be who they are, and it’s ok with me...and if they choose to learn in the future,...I’ll be here for them.

I wasn’t really sure about my middle child, whether they would want to learn or not, and right now, they’ve shown no interest, whatsoever, other than in herbs. When my older children were little, my middle child instinctively knew what herbs went with what spell,or what they were meant for, but wouldn’t want to participate in learning how to pick, dry or prepare any herb, or how to actually do any spells. They knew how to find different stones, flowers, etc..and why they were important, and always has been environmentally sensitive...but again...any mention of trying to teach anything on usage or about Spell Casting, and they would tune me out...Currently they have a significant other, that actually practices Wicca (which is fine),..but even then, my child tunes their partner out, if they start talking about Witchcraft, or Spell Work....Uggh...I wish they would open up, but until then, I accept and will respect their wishes...and it’s ok if they choose to never practice...It’s their life, not mine...I just hope that they let me teach any Grandchildren!

In any case, I love my family, and my children, and magic is in our blood...and has been for a very, very long time. I’m no expert on Witchcraft, but I have been living it, my whole life, continuously learning each day, because knowledge is power, and there is no end to knowledge! With me, you get what you see, and you can take me as I am, or not, and that’s ok too!

Wow, is this ever a long note!..Sorry to whomever is reading this! I’m sure it’s full of grammatical errors, run on sentences, etc...I just thought I’d write whatever was on my mind. My family make me who I am, and now you know a little about them, to get to know me! I’m sure in time, you’ll get to know me better, and let me possibly help to break down the assumptions and stigmas that people have, about witches, and Witchcraft!

Take care and have a wonderful week!!

#witchcraft #notwiccan #hereditarywitch #mamawitch #notwicked #iamme

1 note · View note

asifindmypath · 5 years

Text

Pop Culture Paganism: A Mental Exploration

My own personal thought experiment regarding a mental exploration of Pop Culture Paganism and Witchcraft. Don’t like it, you don’t need to read it. Flamers will be ignored. Constructive discussion and rebuttal is encouraged.

It’s worth noting that I’m a fairly recent “convert” to a pagan setting. I consider myself an eclectic polytheistic pagan witch. I worship a number of gods from different pantheons, and have a generally mixed Eclectic spirituality. I’m still learning and experimenting and discovering my craft and my path. I am not an expert by any means, and the following are my personal opinions. The only reason this post is not Private like most of my entries on this blog is because I feel this discussion may be validating for some who are put down for their faith.

Now without further ado, if you’re interested, check under the Cut. ;)

I’ve been doing a lot of research recently. It started by my looking up if it’s offensive to the gods to watch/enjoy/associate them with pop culture. Is Hades offended by my love of the Disney version of him? Would Bast or Serket be offended by my using images of them as they appear in video games like Smite?

I’ve come to answer myself with; it depends. It’s going to require experimentation, meditation and asking each specific god their preference, but in general, I think the answer is mostly no. If you have the proper intent, I think the gods appreciate it all the same.

I found an interesting Reddit Thread in which their was a discussion about Pop Culture Paganism. I didn’t realize that was even a thing, but reading the discussion was fascinating, and validating. While some are offended by the mere thought of not strictly following the old ways as closely as we can, others argue that myths of the old gods began as stories.

It’s doubtful that if these gods existed as real people or divine beings before humans, that these stories we know of them are one hundred percent accurate. Humans are fallible, we embellish, we exaggerate, and even when trying to be as accurate as possible, we still insert personal bias into everything. We can’t help it, it’s in our nature. So any story, true or not, is going to, at it’s core, be subject to the bias both of the original first-hand account, by every subsequent retelling, and by the person hearing it.

Therefore, why is it offensive to the gods to follow a new retelling of them? a modern version of a god, like, Loki and Thor, for instance, should be just as valid. It’s doubtful that the comic writers and film producers over at Marvel have consciously been contacted by Loki and Thor to tell them how to depict them, but does that mean that the gods weren’t influencing their own stories? Could Loki not have inserted the ideas, placed sources of inspiration into the lives of the writers? Of course he could have.

Another point that was brought up was that new gods spring up all the time. There is a new goddess being worshiped in India by the Dalit community. There are authors who have unwittingly created new gods or religions with their writings. There are sects of people who worship the Valar from Tolkien’s universe, the Jedi Way is a recognized religion now, Lovecraftian monsters are widely accepted as actual ancient beings and have permeated so many areas of culture. Some Celtic deities are traced back to seeming works of fiction.

Some people use pop culture figures as associations for their gods; more tangible, relate-able and realistic than their ancient stories. I recently made a strong association between Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock and Thoth. I’ve also used a Tolkien Mantra of sorts to honor Anubis; Patience being a struggle for me, and one of His attributes, I will occasionally find myself thinking of Treebeard’s signature philosophy, “do not be hasty.”

Some do actually worship fictional characters, even those not intended to be deified. Some use archetypal characters for worship and find pop culture associations for them, but some literally worship Batman or Sailor Moon. Some use fictional characters in spirit work, or create spells around them. The concept of the energy, the love and adoration, the living and breathing history and collective thought poured into and about these characters, this whole process makes absolute sense to me. I’m not sure if I’ll go quite so deep into it, though perhaps. Vi has already mentioned potentially worshiping Clavicus Vile. I’d be okay with that.

Given that many works of fiction draw from real life mythology, legends or properties, a lot of fictional deities and characters have some real-life counterpart. One can find strong correlations to the Gems in Stephen Universe having similar properties to their real-life crystal and stone counterparts. Many fictional deities are amalgamations of real gods. Hell, many “primary” sources of old gods are works of fiction in and of themselves, such as the works of Homer. While there may be truth the stories, they are embellished and theatrical to make it interesting to read, and are at best an artist’s interpretation of events.

I saw another post today that was so validating. Can’t find it right now, or I would link it. Basically it said that a god becomes a god when someone believes they are one. It could be a single person. They are a god. The older the god, the more energy put towards it, the more followers they have, the stronger they become. So in my mind, old gods like the Egyptian, Roman, Norse, Celtic, ect. gods, those of ancient civilizations, most of these will be far more powerful than a new god with a small following. Millions of people did and still do worship Anubis. There are probably only a select few who worship Dipper Pines (though given GF’s cult following, I’m sure I’d be surprised at that number-). Therefore Anubis has more influence and power as an established god, able to reach out even to those unaware of him at the time, and sometimes bring people to the fold this way. Versus Dipper, if deified, would have a harder time calling to a random new child to join the cult of the Mystery Twins.

My concept, which I originally considered a sort of excuse or explanation of my odd and unusual spiritual beliefs, is that energy is a force, it’s neither created, nor is it destroyed. If magic is just channeling one’s will into existence, expending your energy and maybe using other energy aids (a burning candle, a charged crystal, stored energy in plant matter, ect) to yield a desired effect, then why can’t the same concept be put towards anything? If we can will the spirits to read our futures, if we can will two people to fall in love, or will the universe to cause someone bad luck or harm, why can we not will a new being into existence?

In the same way that offerings, prayers and even uttering the name can strengthen older, established gods; in the same way, why can I not make offerings, prayers and epitaphs to Smaug, or Winnie the Pooh, or any fictional character?

Personally, the concept of pop culture magic is also fascinating to me, and that makes even more logical sense to me. If we take a character like Ash Ketchum. A character of indomitable spirit, fierce determination, immortality, and innocence; a character beloved by millions, who’s journeys have inspired generations of children, even shaped the lives of some - there is magic there. There is so much collective thought, energy, love, adoration there. So many know his name, his image, his stories. There are myths and legends about him, theories about other adventures, other possibilities. Artwork is made, statues created, there are buildings dedicated to his world, his friends and family, the animals and creatures of his world.

Even if you don’t see the correlations to a god from an outside perspective, that amount of power centered around some pixels on a television screen is real. It’s there, it exists. No witch or magic user should be able to deny that. Using that stored energy in a spell would be simple when looking at it from this perspective. In the way we can take an animal, look over all its aspects, and channel it into our spells. In the same way we can invoke Mother Bear for strength, maternal protection and love, we could invoke a character like The Doctor for wisdom, compassion and a drive to do what’s right.

The other angle here, is that anyone who subscribes to the Many Worlds Theory can’t really deny the possibility of most of this. This theory proposes there are an infinite number of universes full of infinite possibilities. There is a world where the Roman Empire never collapsed and we’re all living under the new Caesar. There is a world where modern day man is still living alongside dinosaurs. There is a world where ours does not exist. There is a world exactly the same as this one, except that you ate cereal for breakfast today instead of scrambled eggs. There’s a world where dogs are the dominant species and keep humans as pets. There is a world where the Avengers are fighting against Thanos. One where Luke Skywalker is teaching younglings in the Jedi Temple. One where Ash and Pikachu are traveling to another new region in the Pokemon world. One where we live in a giant computer simulation. Infinite. Possibilities.

I’m not here to convince anyone, I may or may not even practice any of this, it’s just some interesting thought exercise. I like thinking about things like this sometimes. I also think that in a world where we are beginning to pave our own Paths; we’re inventing identities for ourselves, discovering new genders, sexualities, magics, gods, everything; that we should be kind to each other as we discover these new avenues. To each their own, and live and let live <3

Blessed be, everyone, and may you all find whatever Path you wind up on fulfilling and full of joy.

#pop culture paganism #pop culture pagan #pop culture magic #pop culture witch #theology #pc paganism #thought exercise #an exploration #my journey #beliefs #spirituality #pop culture witchcraft #pc witch #pc witchcraft #pc pagan

52 notes · View notes

anhed-nia · 5 years

Text

BLOGTOBER 10/24/2018: HEREDITARY

I am not ready to talk about HEREDITARY. I tried it when it came out in June, and while I think I hit all the points that were important for mass audiences, I wasn’t really ready then either, to say what I wanted to say. It isn’t because it’s so unusually beautiful, which it is. It isn’t because it’s “the scariest movie ever made”, which it is not, although it intermittently reaches seldom-seen heights of horror. It also isn’t because, contrary to popular belief, it is deeply flawed, with certain understandable markers of being someone’s first feature. It is because it feels so profoundly personal to me, even while I know that this is a not-uncommon reaction to Ari Aster’s breakout debut. It doesn’t make me special that I would take this film about grief, guilt, mental illness, genetic disorder, and irresolvable family friction so personally, but as usual, I have something I need to say about it. My experience with the movie tells me something, not about why we need HEREDITARY, but why we need art.

(spoilers abound)

This story, about a woman who recently lost her seriously disturbed mother, and who subsequently loses her also-disturbed daughter to a car wreck caused by her teenage son, has been accused of emotional exploitation by some. HEREDITARY is aggressively harrowing, with interminably protracted suspense, teasingly dense shadows, and a constant unnatural drone that characterizes everything you see, however mundane, as malignantly abnormal. Most audiences may accept this kind of brutality when it is buffered by a fantastical metaphor, as with an EXORCIST or a SHINING. You can scare someone half to death, as long as you reassure them that whatever they’ve seen probably isn’t going to happen to them, even if it reminds them of something that did, or could. If you just make people feel bad, however, they may turn on you. This is Ari Aster’s big mistake, if you want to call it that; I know parents who refuse to watch the movie, due to its infamous scene of violence against a child. It’s easy to see why any reasonable person might want to opt out of this unusually shocking scene, in which young Milly Shapiro is accidentally decapitated while her teenage brother races her to the hospital, after having neglectfully caused her need for a hospital trip in the first place. But, I think it also calls into question the place for and purpose of the artist’s contract with the audience. This concept usually refers to the unspoken promise that a filmmaker makes to his viewers, that whatever happens in the movie, even if it is confrontational, will fall within the bounds of what the viewers basically expect when they buy their tickets. It means something like, when a family-oriented entertainment producer like Disney adapts a Grimm Brothers fairy tale, the audience won’t have to see the huntsman eviscerate an animal to get his ersatz proof that he has killed Snow White, and they won’t have to see Cinderella’s wicked stepsisters mutilate their own feet to try to fit the glass slipper. Part of the problem many people have with HEREDITARY is that Ari Aster’s contract with his audience is a little unclear. It blends psychodrama about irresolvable family issues that can hit way too close to the literal home for any ordinary person, with the unthinkable but entirely doable desecration of the human body, with outrageous supernatural horrors that, while scary as hell, can seem preposterous in light of the more terrestrial torments that have gone before.

To try to be more succinct, which is difficult with such a complex film, my own problem with HEREDITARY is that it contains metaphors for real-world elements that are already in the movie. To go back to the example of THE EXORCIST: Regan’s transformation from an innocent child into a vile self-abusing demon serves as a ready metaphor for puberty, mental illness, addiction, and really anything that turns your loved one into someone you no longer recognize. Writer Peter Blatty sets this up beautifully by using banal troubles like drafts in the house or parental antagonism as agents that weaken Regan’s defenses against the forces of darkness, just as they can weaken the average person’s defenses against depression or alcoholism--the things that warp them away from their best, or at least, most socially acceptable self. HEREDITARY gets itself into a sticky spot by giving Toni Collete a family history of emotional and physical violence, schizo-affective disorder, alienation, and neglect that is as convincing as can be, and then throwing a comparatively flimsy (however great-looking) metaphorical tarp over all that in the form of witchcraft and demonic possession. A similar problem occurs in Boots Riley’s otherwise excellent SORRY TO BOTHER YOU, where he stages the action in a world--our world, however surreally dressed up--that turns on an axis of slave labor, and then he concludes his story with an outsized metaphor for slave labor. I wouldn’t really kick anything in either of these movies out of bed, at the end of the day; I’m just saying that it gets a little awkward when you craft this grandiose metaphor for a legitimately terrifying real-world thing, while that thing happens to be standing right there in the room with the metaphor.

Anyway. It is interesting to note that while the movie seems to have hurt a lot of people’s feelings based on their own contemporary reality, its spiritual DNA has been active for hundreds of years. Witchery has been a handy metaphor for, or even out-and-out "explanation” for, mental illness in women throughout history. (Ok, so it’s been an excuse for LOTS of things that have happened to or around women throughout history, but I only have so much space!) In HEREDITARY, Toni Collette describes her recently deceased mother as being extraordinarily private, having “private rituals” and even “private friends”, which we soon realize were signs of her being a devil worshiper. However, in some ways, mother and daughter are not so different. Where the mother practiced dark arts, Collette is a successful gallery artist. Her hyperreal dioramas seem like metaphorical expressions of her feelings toward her insane and abusive parent, but as we find out along the way, they are entirely realistic descriptions of actual things that have actually happened in her life--including the notorious car crash, but also things like the mother trying to force her breast on her infant granddaughter, which we later learn was part of an effort to implant Milly Shaprio with a demon. Shapiro, who inhabits a Baba Yaga-like treehouse in the yard, is also an artist, crafting twisted-looking dolls out of refuse and carrion, and like her mother, she also has unwitting witchy inclinations, perceiving grim specters and ill omens all around. Notably, no one outside the maternal bloodline perceive these things, and it seems that male members only perceive them when being supernaturally attacked. While Toni Collete and Milly Shapiro both use handcrafted art to process the trauma handed down to them by their maternal ancestor, all three women participate (knowingly or otherwise) in an ancient artistic tradition that, for some, amounts to a legitimate religion--but for many others, especially in the modern world, it is a way of dealing with feelings of impotence and subjugation. A sense of disappointment, worthlessness, and damnation plagues the women at the center of HEREDITARY, whether it involves Toni Collette’s complaint that her family blames her for all of their misfortunes, or her accusing her teenage son Alex Wolff of failing to acknowledge his responsibility for his sister’s death, or his sister ominously remarking that her grandmother’s doting attitude disguised the matriarch’s attempts to control or deform her--”She wanted me to be a boy,” Shapiro mutters, and we’ll find out she specifically wanted the child to be a boy vessel for a boy demon (about which, more later). HEREDITARY depicts a family out of control, who cannot escape the fate that has been devised for them, but who have adopted some interesting, literally artful means of trying to synthesize feelings of power.

HEREDITARY begins to fall apart, not as much because of its indecisive attitude toward fantasy and realism, as because of its last act left turn away from its heretofore cogent discussion of the disenfranchisement of women, and the guilt women live with when they fall short of their clan’s desires for strong sons, good little girls, or perfect mothers who serve their people instead of serving themselves. Make no mistake: Alex Wolff, who delivers an above-and-beyond performance as an average young man who is alienated by his freak sister and unstable mother, is always at the center of the film. The guilt he acquires from being an unwilling murderer is as potent as anything I think I’ve ever seen in a movie. So, it isn’t that this male experience of disappointing your family, and also feeling victimized by their very existence, is absent from the first leg of the story. It’s that when the film finally tries to make sense of itself, by revealing that Toni Collette’s mother intended to offer one of her male progeny as a vessel for a masculine entity that would bring her great wealth...well, it sort of flies in the face of the psychological depths we’ve plumbed up to that point. For one thing, the movie’s title suggests a singular focus on the intergenerational passing-down of trauma and blame, and the collection of damaged women to whom we’re immediately introduced are obvious experts in this matter. It doesn’t quite work when the story vacillates between sympathizing with these doomed females, and then sympathizing with a young man’s fear and loathing of adult women, who he perceives as irrational and castrating. And how is it possible that the profound mystery surrounding the family’s progressive ruin is rooted in something as shallow as money? I tried to develop a theory that it works as the final insult of any familial loss--that death is incredibly expensive to manage, and inheritance can be just burdensome as it is a blessing--but I don’t know, there’s not enough on the table for me to make a meal out of.

Setting aside the idea of sacrificing your son to a money demon, though, one can say that even if HEREDITARY is a little unsteady in its construction, the individual components are solid. And here I don’t just mean compelling, but also, real. This is the reason I people are so bothered by HEREDITARY--that it tells the truth in a much more direct manner than most audiences expect of a supernatural horror film. While that may be an unwelcome experience, it may be more helpful to think of this unpleasantness as a gift that art can give us. This kind of nasty confrontation with trauma is important for an individual’s personal development, integrity, and self-knowledge. The more demandingly exhibitionistic a movie is, the better chance we have to untangle ourselves from the billowing curtain of metaphor and anthropological generality, and to be purified by the excoriating light of realism--not the artistic genre, but actual contact with reality.

Here we find my own big reveal, my left turn away from what my previous paragraphs have led you to expect. Let me tell you about my mother. My mother was an enormously popular person. Extremely sharp, funny, fashionable, cultured--all things that help keep one’s private persona in the shadows. A prolific artist, she created hyperreal paintings and drawings from miniatures, like toys and model train props, that represented an exaggerated simulation of reality. Much of her work was about female pageantry, social expectations of women, or the chintzy objects that littered the lives of 1950s and 60s housewives, like kitschy bric-a-brac and tawdry paperbacks. People absolutely loved her for her taste, her humor, her ability to express herself. She did not like me. This was so true that, even without a history of physical abuse, that her peers sometimes say things to me that reveal their awareness of the facts of our relationship, or lack thereof. I hear things like, “Your mother loved you, you know!”, in a tone of voice that suggests that they know this would be late breaking news, without ever having asked me how I feel or what I think. From the earliest age, I seemed to refuse to meet the expectations people have of their children: I hated to be touched, I cried endlessly, I quaked with anxiety and a nameless guilt day and night, I burned with an aimless anger. I could draw, and did so compulsively, but nothing nice or bright. I was acutely aware of sexuality, violence, vanity, and shame. I was no fun whatsoever. Later in life--very recently in life, actually--I discovered that I have two important, inherent qualities: One, that I have a genetic inability to process copper properly, a mineral that is psychoactive and can make you pretty unhinged in large quantities. Two, that I suffer from a form of Autism Spectrum Disorder, a range of mental conditions that have been historically ignored in women, largely because of misogynist prejudices that society holds about essentially-female dysfunctionality. Unfortunately for me, my mother died when I was a teenager, almost two decades before I would find out these things that might have made her more tolerant of me.

Fortunately, I guess, I think I know why my mother took such an exception to me, and it isn’t all about me. It’s about her mother. My maternal grandmother was also an artist of sorts, but more in terms of artifice. I haven’t decided whether it is fair for me to spill all of the details of a story that belongs to more people than myself, but I will go so far as to say that my maternal great-grandparents meted out trauma and shame in a manner that my grandmother allowed to contribute to her painful estrangement from her sister. For my purposes, what it really did was teach my mother that darkness--any kind of darkness, even darkness that belongs to you and you alone, that you have a right to, that should be yours to process as you see fit--is inappropriate. It is just as inappropriate in adults as it is in children, which she would see very clearly in her mother’s strict orchestration of their household into an unimpeachably pure, Rockwellian model of what an American family should be like. While my mother found her way into the revolutionary world of hippie rebellion and art-making, she never let go of her prohibition against sadness and rage, even in her own child, and I suffered from it until she suddenly, rapidly and gruesomely died of lung cancer when I was barely old enough to drive. Afterward, her mother obsessed over me in a way that was simultaneously scathingly intense and unmistakably impersonal. I looked like my mother, and my grandmother’s identity was rooted entirely in dominating a family, so she couldn’t do without me. I couldn’t let her know anything about myself; my feelings about horror, pornography, death taboos, sexual identity, and media that is out to hurt you, are what make up all that I am, and are the opposite of everything she believes in. With that weight on my back, I had to pretend that we had this archetypal American familial intimacy, even when I didn’t have it with my own mother, even when I hated being touched, even when I hadn’t learned how to receive affection. Early this year, she died at 90 years old from a misdiagnosed colon condition. As my family rushed to her side to say goodbye, we discovered that her shadowy sister had pushed her doctors into lifesaving measures that would have extended her existence into something so horrific that it would have stood up to the ugliest scenes from JACOB’S LADDER, had she not miraculously died before regaining consciousness. As perversely relieving as that was, my ears ring with the sound of her last phone call to me. Intended to be a heartfelt goodbye, it devolved quickly into the woman, completely possessed of her mental faculties, absolutely screaming for her life. It was a sound as chilling as anything from any of the sadistic movies I love so well, and I really heard it, in my real life.

This all would be enough to make me talk the way that I do, but it isn’t all. Recently, my father revealed to me some details of my mother’s struggle with cancer that I had never heard before. Although my mother had been told to go straight home and make her peace upon diagnosis, she and my father plunged full bore into magical thinking. They experimented with hypnosis, acupuncture, reiki, anything that might activate my mother’s internal ability to heal herself. Soon they found themselves in the office of a charismatic self-help guru-type in a neighboring city. Incidentally, this person is now at the center of an increasingly bizarre trial that is slated to begin this January, due to her authoritative involvement with a Scientology-like cult that allegedly maintains a secret inner circle of brand-wielding sex slavers. But anyway, back to my little memoir: It isn’t clear to me what she claimed was the scope of her powers exactly, but I know that she specialized in a form of “healing” that involved hypnosis and carefully selected words, I suppose not unlike a magical incantation. She said to my mother: “I am going to heal you.” The reason she said this so forcefully, was that my mother was the physical double of a previous client of hers; a client who died from the same specific form of lung cancer that plagued my mother; and who lived in the house we had moved into, only months before my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. That woman died, we moved into her house, and by pure coincidence, my subsequently sick mother found herself in the office of the self-styled healer who had treated the previous owner of our new home for the very same illness. “God has given me a second chance,” the healer said, “and I am going to heal you.” My mother saw her for several months, until one day she arrived to find a third woman in the office. Astoundingly, the healer described the young coed as having supernatural gifts. The two instantly began terrorizing my mother, screaming at her and cursing her. My mother, sobbing hysterically, begged to know, “Why are you yelling at me?” and they replied, “WE’RE NOT YELLING AT YOU, WE’RE YELLING AT THE CANCER!” When he told the story, of course, my father accidentally said “demon”, not “cancer”, but in any case, they were trying to exorcize her. My mother never went back, and, some might remark, she died.

Naturally, I wanted to tell this story to anyone who would listen to me, as soon as I had heard it. It was one of the weirdest things I had ever heard, and it happened to my family. While some people’s jaw dropped in exactly the way mine had originally, I received some unexpected feedback, too. On some occasions, a dear friend would pause at the end of my story, make a calculated “surprise” sound, and then, very gently, explain to me that coincidences exist, self-hypnosis and group hysteria exist, and I shouldn’t take any of it too seriously. I found myself, not just disappointed, but embarrassed. I wasn’t trying to tell people that I believed my family was cursed by god or the devil, or that we had been molested by some evil sorceress. I was simply trying to say that, somehow...isn’t there some kind of spiritual truth to this? Isn’t it worth remarking on, that my life, my history, had congealed into such an incredible metaphor for itself? Isn’t it so much more compelling than any kind of fiction I could ever have written, any artwork I could ever have created in order to process the exact kind of trouble my family has suffered? Isn’t this just amazing, all by itself, without even the benefit of theatrical interpretation? Of course, the conclusion will be that I absolutely have to give this some kind of theatrical interpretation, or else I will go out of my mind. I’m close enough as it is. But, in some ways, I felt like this interpretation has already happened at the hands of Ari Aster, with his horrific fable about how inherited trauma among generations of women gives way to the machinations of a corrupt cult. People who know me well will realize that I’m still leaving out parallels between HEREDITARY and myself, in this already too-long piece of analysis. But I guess what I’m trying to say for now is that I need HEREDITARY, and we each need a HEREDITARY of our own to put our most unspeakable experiences on a pin, under a spotlight, inside a bell jar, to be examined from every angle and exactingly diagnosed, whether we like it or not.

#blogtober #hereditary #ari aster #horror #supernatural #witch #cult #toni collette #milly shapiro #alex wolff #gabriel byrne #anecdotal evidence #mental illness

74 notes · View notes