#roadkill / shrine

[mag200]

ROADKILL / SHRINE

an homage to a dead deer i was driving past a few weeks ago and thoughts of becoming earth.

mixed media installation // ko-fi

#my art #art #mixed media #installation #abstract #abstract art #deer #idk what else to tag this. anyway. genuinely so happy with how this came out. #roadkill / shrine

[pyramidsoul]

Jeffrey Dahmer and the question of the “inside”

Jeffrey Dahmer, 1978

The hernia operation

In the year 1964, the three/four year old kid Jeffrey Dahmer, complained due to a pain in the groin area. The doctors found out he suffered from a double hernia, and soon after that he got operated. The recovery isn’t been easy for the kid, the pain was a lot and he even asked if they cut out his penis.

The operation is been traumatic indeed. He was very little, left in the hands of the doctors who he didn’t even know. He was left in a unfamiliar place where strangers operated him in a very private part, while he was immobilized, unable to react, while doctors could see the inside of him. As much as this is the procedure and doctors simply did their job, this was a huge trauma for Jeffrey Dahmer to digest, and it’s when he lost trust in doctors.

The corpses

Jeffrey Dahmer had this morbid fascination towards dead bodies. It was since the early adolescence he went looking for roadkill, dissecting the dead animals he found on the road. He cut them up all along the stomach, from neck to the groin area, exposing the internal organs, to then end preserving the bones.

In the adult age the dissection shifted on human corpses. At first it was born as a necessity to dispose the bodies, but then Dahmer found pleasure on cutting them, exposing the organs. He was attracted by the inside and he loved to place his hands between the innards and feel them. Like in the adolescence years, he preserved and kept the bones of the victims.

A withdraw man

The eldest son of the Dahmer family has never expressed his feelings but kept all to himself. The difference between the two Dahmer brothers was big, while David Dahmer was an extrovert, charismatic and successful boy, Jeffrey was an introvert, quiet and locked up man. He didn’t talk with family, he’d rather preferred to express himself in other ways like his brother remembers “[Jeff] never learned to be open with his feelings of frustration . . . he went out to the forest by himself and cut down trees for firewood.” (The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer). Indeed he felt lot of anger but yet he kept all inside.

When his mother was taken to an hospital due to her mental health, Jeffrey blamed himself for his mother’s illness and wanted to keep the house calmer as possible. He didn’t want to be a trouble and so made himself isolated. His father instead, tried to make him exit from his isolation. He tried to made the son interested in sports or hobbies, but none of that resulted successful. But it was the father himself who apparently made the son so withdraw and private, teaching him how to control his emotions and be quiet. But both father and mother didn’t give him too much attention at the end, they decided to ignore the signals thinking it was just the way Jeff was and there wasn’t nothing wrong at all.

“A little private world”

As the puberty came Jeffrey Dahmer realized his thoughts and sexual desires weren’t sane and normal at all. He started fantasizing about lifeless bodies he could explore while they were still, he even targeted a jogger hoping he could hit him with a baseball bat to make him unconscious. Adding to that he knew of his sexual orientation, but knowing he wouldn’t have meet the favor of his family he kept this secret to himself.

When he started to accept the thoughts, he put everything together and called the place where he kept them “a little private world”. It was a metaphor he used to describe his welcomed lifestyle where he was free to live and act how he wanted. At job or with his family he hid the thoughts and acted normally while inside of him he had a whole horror world he exposed only in gay bars or indoors his home.

#jeff dahmer #jd #jeffrey lionel dahmer #true crime #jeffrey dahmer #informative #dahmer #facts

[swampgallows]

i know ive reblogged that post a couple of times now about how old internet wasn't "better" in terms of the content on it (pain olympics, rotten, meatspin, etc) but there was definitely more agency in being exposed to that content. as others in the thread said, you developed a kind of 'street smarts' about the internet, knowing which roads to avoid/which links to click and where they might take you. yeah youd take some wrong turns but thats how youd learn. just like the real world has seedy back alleys, the internet did too. and most of them were 'dead ends' anyway: tubgirl and lemon party were just the isolated image. it's not like they automatically subscribed you to mailing lists or downloaded viruses or notified your neighborhood that you'd visited. they were closer to gross-out pranks than anything nefarious, if anything just making both kids and parents more mindful of what they could find online.

i learned pretty early on that not every website about pokemon was safe just because pokemon was for kids, and i learned to identify and stay away from them; it helped that many sites/webrings were clearly labeled as either containing hentai or being 'hentai-free'. i recall many 'shrine' sites having a separate 'hentai page', like the back room at a video store, with bold #FF0000 "WARNING 18+" as a splash page before the main index. nothing could stop me from clicking it of course, but i knew what to expect if i ever did. sure there were the occasional porno popup ads, but like the seedy back alleys those were indicators that i was in a 'bad part of town' and should be hightailing it out of there anyway, malicious more often to software than psyche.

neopets and beheading videos existed on the same internet, but there was zero chance of grainy footage of iraqi POWs showing up in the same window as meerca chase. with the congealing of individual sites into The Big Four glorified RSS feeds, there is no delineation between these things, no demarcation -- site as location is eliminated. this simultaneously atomizes and flattens both war crime evidence and virtual pets into "media", bits of decontextualized data, the dreaded "content", dissolved and extruded as slop into a digital trough. a literal feed. the marked difference between internet of then and now is that i had the power to both detect and avoid that kind of content because they were in physically separate locations, whereas in modern day internet everything is in the same place, so it gets directly beamed into my face.

one of the primary reasons i never migrated to twitter was because my friends would follow porn on their main accounts, which would not affect me at all except that twitter would go "hey! look at this post your mutuals liked!" and it would be porn. like sure i can go to the public square's market for my groceries since it's popular and convenient but there's also people being drawn and quartered there sometimes (something something foucault discipline and punish surveillance state etc). the algorithm forces content on you against your will and the only way to curtail that is to feed the algorithm your information, placating a wild beast holding you hostage, hoping the panopticon will avert its gaze a moment, versus the old internet of being able to go out and hunt. if i go out into the wilderness and see a dead animal, that's unfortunate but that's life. that's their habitat. if roadkill is continuously delivered to the front door of my apartment, that is not me being a 'puritan who cant handle """"dark themes"""" or the reality of death' or whatever. thats an issue of it's my fucking house and i shouldnt have to build it up like a fortress of browser extensions to be able to choose what goes into it.

#blathering

[attack-on-my-emotions]

Every time I read "Great Sky Island," it's said in the ghost ancestor's voice from Mulan in the same way he says, "Great Stone Dragon"

Screaming like a tea kettle over the subtle care between Link and Zelda

Researcher Zelda getting excited over her discovery is so adorable I love her so much

I love that bass sound in the cutscene right before the castle starts crumbling as it's being lifted skyward

First death was in combat. To be fair, it was 3 vs 1, and my shield turned to ash from the construct that had his stick on fire, and then the other one landed a hit. Head caved in by THICC Stick!

Minor detail, but I noticed in the dark cave when I swung my weapon. It also disturbed the fog around me!

The second death is by grabby hands! My borrowed wild horse spotted something, turned and ran as I was grabbing a new plant item. I climbed a boulder to get a better view of what I saw slithering just out of sight, and I see why they ran, but it saw me too! I was not quick enough on foot...

In one of the shrines, you have to bat a ball to the targets. I was creating the bat and went to test it out to see if it even swung and not get stuck on the floor due to the angle and without timing it, the ball was hit and landed the target immediately lol

Me runs over and stands on a rock. Said rock begins to rumble, "Ah of course....". It was a Talos

Riding across a bridge, I see something sparkling in the distance. It's the head of an electric Gleeok that's in the coliseum...

I veered off and ran through a bokoblin camp. Trying to ride through to the stables, I realized the cliff drops off into the river. So I leave my borrowed wild horse. Who then ends up running the same way I did lol

The korok trying to get to its friend near the Outskirt Stable was a pain! Having to go up the cliffside to get there. At one point the korok fell (misjudged the landing) and dropped all the way down. I went to fetch him, and the little guy kept rolling down the path in somersaults as Link was sprinting to catch him XD

Sneakily sniping a Bokoblin on watch duty. The others were asleep (beddy bye time). I took a photo for the compendium and then silent strike the remaining sleeping beauties. Turns out that helping Kilton build an exhibition of monsters leads to Hudson recreating a photo in whatever pose it was captured with. Which was it sleeping peacefully before being murdered

I was dragging a Korok to its friend via horse powered harness, and as we're riding through, he starts screaming, "Help! Heeeelp!". An enemy must've popped up, but I didn't see any, so it just looks like he was calling for him from ME 😈

I like the attack roomba and roadkill shrines

Shamelessly sending a korok down a cliff because it was the shortest and quickest way to get him to his friend 👀

Witnessed a hinox get a wakeup call via lightning. Then it saw me, but the lightning helped out by striking it again

#The Legend of Zelda #Tears of the Kingdom #totk #Aome's Gaming Adventures

[babylonbirdmeat]

There was apparently a specific roadkill deer that Graham was obsessed with back when everyone was trapped in Wisconsin and like 🔥 wanted to build Shrines for her

#Dama speaks

[boiledteethzz]

💬 I think I love you :)

you do not love me.

you love that I give you love, unending and limitless and vast and whole. you love that I drown you in attention and compassion and listen to you with open arms and inviting eyes. you love that I understand, that I tolerate, that I shelter you like a wet dog from storm.

you do not love me.

what you feel is my guilt, salted wound bleeding out through sore fingers, running down your cheek when you say you are hurting. what you feel is my sadness, the innate yearning to be held and heard and harboured. neither have received from those who should have given. you crave what you did not and cannot have.

I provide.

weak shoulders. tight chest. rough breath.

i let you latch but I am not your solace.

I am not safe.

you do not love me.

it is the foundation to decency, to be kind. to settle our differences to hold and hear and harbour.

to care.

I care.

I am not the only one.

do not tell me I am an angel, that I am perfect, a saint. remove me from your pedestal and burn down your shrines to the god you have sculpted in your desperation.

you do not love me, I refuse the idea for I am sick of hearing I am wise and unlike another.

prayers are a facsimile for pleading.

I am a plague, disease riddled roadkill that wishes to rot in peace.

and I am tired.

leave me by the side of the road.

you do not love me

you cannot.

#burned out again #poetry #writers and poets #poetscommunity #poets on tumblr #love poetry #love poem

[delightfullyridiculous]

RIP

Loraine

One of Big Bubba's many wives.

"Fly high."

#ducks #shrines #roadkill

[wisehoagiekidwobbler]

Forms of Witchcraft

•Dolls and Poppets

Poppets are the English terms for what movies call a ‘voodoo doll’. Voodoo doll is a misnomer, and does nothing for either poppets or Haitian magic.

Poppets can be used for a couple of things – mainly either cursing or healing. This doesn’t always have to be physical curses/cures – poppets can also be used to influence thought patterns.

Dolls can also be used to provide homes for Spirits, or used to create guardians. You can also use a doll as a scapegoat to prevent a curse from latching onto you.

•Shrinemaking

Shrine making is less a way to create a defined outcome, and more a way of pleasing Spirits who you may later want to call upon. It’s kinda like taking your new neighbours a pie, in case you ever need them to watch the house whilst you’re away. The pie is an overture to a friendly relationship, not direct payment for the house sitting. However, if you just blundered into their garden one day and offered them £100 to watch the house, they’d probably tell you to get lost. Randomly calling up Spirits, Saint or Deities can have the same effect. I mean, would you help someone get a job if they just banged on your door and waved some incense at you? Get your local Spirits pies. Find out what scents, and objects, and offerings that they like. Keep the land around you clean, and pick up after other people if you can. Use your vote and your money to protect the land from logging and fracking. Build a dedicated ‘meeting space’ where you call up Spirits, and fill it full of pictures of them or things they like. It pays dividends in the future.

Shrinemaking can also be used to help bless and protect your home and land. By connecting with the other Spirits that are there, you solidify the relationship, and can work together against intruders.

•Bottles and Jars

Witch bottles (or spell jars)  are fun, easy ways to create a variety of effects. As a spell base, they can be effective for:

* money

* love

* friendship

* animal work

* protection

Some people define a witch bottle as strictly the traditional version which is used as a scapegoat, and call other spells involving bottles and jars ‘spell jars’. Some people use the term witch bottle to encompass all magics involving jars.

You can learn about all types of bottle magic in the free course which you can sign up for below!

•Candles

Candle magic is a much more modern form of magic than you’d think – especially if we’re talking coloured candles. Candles were very precious objects in the past! However, it was not an unusual item to have, like a hunk of crystal or fairy doll, which is why they became an item to use for undetected witchcraft – like brooms, and cauldrons.

As candles have got cheaper and cheaper and less needed to be used for lighting, much more forms and types of magic have sprung up around them. With the addition of coloured waxes or painted candles, the sorts of magic you can do with candles has grown exponentially.

Candles are a subset of fire magic and therefore are fantastic for banishing, but they are often the beginners tool of choice. It’s easy to understand why – easy to get hold of, easy to use, and there’s as much fancy ritual needed as you feel inclined to give it.

When you want to expand your knowledge, you can still stick with candles – but investigate the use of oils, herbs and crystals in conjunction with candles.

•Crystals and Rocks

Crystals and rocks are often used as ‘ingredients’ in other spells. They are very easy to add to bottles, pouches, dolls and more. However, you can also use crystals in spell work solely on their own by adding them to your pillow, till, money box, plant pot, etc.

Their use goes much further than this, but that enters the realm of energy healing which is a part of many traditions and is a very dedicated and intensive practice all by itself, and too much to explain here.

Air

You can utilize the powers of air in a lot of ways. It’s usually good for cleansing spells – think sweeping with a ritual broom, burning incense (smoke=air, not fire), ringing bells or playing bowls, singing, using flags and wheels. Air methods tend to return quick results.

Earth

Earth brings slow results, but they tend to be larger. Earth practices include enchanting seeds that will bring you money as they grow, burying offerings in the Earth, making vessels and spells out of clay, or writing spells in the mud.

Fire

Fire can bring things into your life, but is much better used to get rid of them – for beginners, anyway. If there is anything in your life that you wish to get rid of, you can write or draw a representation of it and cast it into the fire to remove it.

Water

Water can take the longest time to bring you what you need. However, think of water pounding against a rock. Drips of water became rivers, became waterfalls. Water can often bring you the biggest results, but it may take a long time.

Water spells can include potions (see below), but can also include ritual baths, leaving offers in water, or giving up bad energy or habits to the ocean.

•Bones

Bones are a contentious subject in witchcraft. Some people will never use them, some people’s practice is not complete without them. You can actually get bones in an ethical manner, by either cleaning up roadkill yourself or paying someone to do it for you, or literally keeping the bones from your dinner!

Some uses for bones are:

* Telling the future (casting bones or lots)

* Housing the Spirit of the animal so you can work with them

* Form parts of wands or ritual jewellery or headresses

* Ingredients in pouches

Tarot, Runes and Ogham

You can use all of these fortune telling tools in spells, too! You can choose one of them that has a characteristic or represents an outcome that you’d like. So if you wanted a new job, you might choose the Ace of Pentacles. Then you could do any one of the following with it:

* Use it to focus a candle spell

* Add it to a pouch or bag spell

* Add it to a jar spell

* Use it in lieu of a sigil

* Make a vision board around it

* Even burn it! (You can get single Tarot cards for this purpose on eBay.)

•Potions and Elixirs

Potion Magic used to be a lot more popular. Whilst elixirs, tisanes and tea blends are still popular for use on yourself, the masses of recipes of potions, philtres and similar recipes have all but died out. That’s because a lot of potion magic is only to be used in desperate circumstances, like love potions and curses. The reason so many old fashioned love potions are beyond creepy and controlling is that woman’s husband was her meal ticket. If he left her, not only would she be blamed, but she would be out of a house, food and her own family probably wouldn’t take her in. She had shamed them all. (Often through no actual fault of her own.) She was literally facing public humiliation, being outcast, perhaps even starving to death – and sometimes her children along with here.

So dousing  a lover or husband’s food with love potion made a lot more sense then, than it does now.

Thankfully, most of us don’t live in those circumstances any more, so a lot of philtre or potion use has died out. However, there are still some amazing things you can make to ingest yourself:

* Tea blends

* Tisanes (herbals teas)

* Bath spells

* Lunar or solar water

* Herbal Oils

Spoken Magic

Spoken Magic can be long and complicated, or very short. It doesn’t have to rhyme (but it can) it doesn’t have to flow like poetry (but it can). You can use spoken incantation to help direct energy when you’re using other methods, but you can also use it on it’s own.

Some examples of spoken magic:

* Affirmations

* Words of power

* Singing

* Ritual Offerings

* Wishes

You can even banish Spirit’s solely through your voice. Shouting ‘Leave!’ with the correct intention can be very powerful.

•Written Magic

Written magic has existed since we could write. Many cultures view writing AS magic. Think about it – 26 (or thereabouts, depends on your alphabet) tiny squiggles can become anything when placed in the right order. Dumbledore was right about the power of words.

Written magic can include:

* Petitions to Spirits

* Magic squares

* Words of power or protection

* Wishes

* Tattoos

* Rune work

Bag and Pouch Magic

There is all kinds of bag magic – from mojo bags, to more modern spell envelopes. The main idea behind bag or pouch magic is that keeping a carefully curated selection of objects together for a certain time period will produce the effects that you want. A lot of bag magic produces indefinite spells  provided they are charged. Such bags usually grant the wearer protection, prosperity, luck or good health. However, there are bag magics wear a specific time limited spell is wanted – invisibility spells, hex breakers and the like.

•Enchantments and Glamours

Enchantment covers a variety of spell types, but theme of the spells are pretty much the same. Enchantment covers a lot of the old folklore kind of witchcraft – hidden worlds, changing age, changing into different animals and so on.

Enchanting something fools the viewer into believing something is there when it is not, or isn’t there when it is, or is something completely different.

Think of the Harry Potter scene where Hermione explains that the ceiling of the Great Hall isn’t a real sky, it’s just enchanted to look that way.

Real enchantment can be done for fun, but they can also be useful pieces of magic. You can enchant jewelry, clothes or makeup to bestow certain personality traits upon you. You can enchant your witchy items to look normal if you’re fearful of discovery. The possibilities are just about endless.

#grimoire #witchcraft #book of spells #wicca #book of shadows #witch #spell book #witches journal #magic book #pagan #black magic #black spells #witchy #witchy spells #beginner witch #witchblr #witchtober

[pips-squeak]

The Ashes of My Past

War doesn’t wait for the innocent. Not to evacuate, or find their mother. The city street I stood on was covered in craters, buildings that surrounded me ravaged from warfare. It was silent, no soft cries or damaged pleas. I woke up this morning curled up in a dark corner, shivering, hands a threatening blue, clutching what little clothes I had around my body.

This place was void of people. Of food. Of sound. I had just been with my family the night before, my mother braiding my hair, my brother being tucked into bed. We were in the same shambles of a home I woke up in today, but before the place was lively with families, desperate to survive, but refusing to leave.

Where did they go? Did the troops drag them away? The king of the kingdom oceans away promised that they were just here to watch. Make sure we behaved, kept in line.

Standing here is getting me nowhere. Why was I standing here? I didn’t remember walking to the middle of the road.

The sky stood in front of me was a deep, rich red, morning sun rising and greeting this world. It didn’t make the chill in my bones say goodbye, though, just a passing by greeting that soon faded.

I turned, soaking in the good view that very well may be my last. There was ash all over the ground, a dark gray with an uncertain backstory. Was there a fire? The guards that were stationed just outside the city walls would sometimes make bonfires in an attempt to stay warm from the winter nights. Frostbite seemed to be the only thing that could kill them off, not knowing how to wrap the correct amount of furs around their bodies to keep in heat.

The city was in ruins, but there was no fire damage. Were the people burning trash? They used to do that when I was younger, but as resources ran out quick, everything that we had was kept. Anything that could be recycled, or reused in some shape or form.

I kept turning in circles, hoping to spot anything that could lead to answers, but like normal people panning for gold, I came up empty. My mother and father were experienced hunters, could track any trail of their soon to be dinner, but after getting caught one too many times sneaking outside the wall, and then beaten, they refused to teach their craft.

Too many times they came home with bloody backs and scarred skin.

The street, on average, would be bustling with people, stands of fresh produce lining the sides. Bright red apples and bright purples of flowers somehow managed to flourish here. Survive where all was impossible.

I admired them for their resilience.

Quick as can be, a northern goshawk shot overhead, away from the city and towards a large, open stretch of snow. I gave a low whistle at his retreating wings, wishing him luck, wherever he was going.

My mother kept a sort of shrine to the goshawks in our family room when I was little. We often used them as the hunters in the family, when my mother and father were in bed recovering. They kept us alive through many winters.

But when the goshawk was maybe 20 feet away, it stopped, and flew back until he was standing on the ground near my feet. Had he come back for me?

I lowered myself, knees pressing into soil. The bird looked into my eyes. Though an animal, and one I didn’t recognize as a regular, his eyes seemed to express more emotion to me than some of the guards.

“Hello.” I whispered out quietly. He turned and flew back to the stretch of snow. I followed.

Before, I saw a large pile of snow, so tall it looked as if it was reaching for the sun. But now, as I got closer, I realized the pile was more gray than white, and much finer than any of the snow that we ever received. It was the ash I saw on the ground. And my people’s clothes that surrounded it.

⭑⭑⭑

My friend’s hand tugged on mine, pulling me to the other side of the road so a car nearby couldn’t make any roadkill. I stumbled, a new picture being painted in front of me. The present.

My feet hit the sidewalk once we had crossed, and I looked back to the middle of the road. To the snowy, destroyed town I saw. My friend rambled next to me, and a bird I didn’t know the name for flew overhead. I had to resist the sudden urge to whistle.

#pips writing #writing #short story #flash fiction #writeblr

[sodalitefully]

It’s hazardous to breathe... [GNR Mad Max AU, pt. 1]

This is the first half of a AU inspired by the movie Mad Max: Fury Road that @smokeandmirrorz and I came up with after he posted some awesome art for a Mad Max AU!  This oneshot very loosely follows the plot of the movie, it may make less sense if you haven’t seen the film. I split it into two parts so it would be more readable on tumblr, the second part is here and the whole fic is also on AO3.

*Contains mpreg, character death, and plenty of unpleasant things from the Mad Max universe, including implied/referenced sexual violence, some regular violence/gore (more so in the second part), and Immortan Joe.*

----

It wasn't often that the wives were brought outside their chamber.  Less often still that Steven got to be present when they were – so he considered himself lucky to be in the same room when the Immortan's only surviving wife emerged from the biodome to watch Immortan Joe send off his top Imperator on a mission to recruit more valuable full-lives after the untimely deaths of his other two wives.  

It was a little known truth that Steven and Slash had history.  'Little known,' because if the Immortan caught wind that the two had become close when Slash was first brought to the Citadel and Steven was just a War Pup, he would be toast.  As little as they'd talked in the years since then, Steven still considered Slash... if not a friend, at least an acquaintance.  And that's more than he could say about his fellow War Boys.

Being allowed in the same room as Slash was the first step to reigniting their friendship. Now, if only Slash would acknowledge him...

"Steven." Slash's voice was barely loud enough to hear.

"Yes?" Steven perked up, encouraged that Slash hadn't forgotten about him after all.  

"I need you to do something for me."  Steven nodded eagerly.  "I need you to go to Imperator Stradlin, and tell him to come visit me as soon as possible.  Can you do that?"

"Of course.  Anything for the Immortan!"

It wasn't for the Immortan, but Steven didn't need to know that.

"One more thing – It's top secret.  You can't say a word to anyone else, alright?"

--

Getting to the wive's chamber wasn't hard for Izzy: all he had to do was convince the guards he was on official business, and then once he was inside the vault, the soundproof walls would take care of the rest.  All the same, he did not have a good feeling about this "meeting."  Whatever was going on, it was going to be trouble...

The thick vault door swung open, revealing a scene straight out of a dream, so serene it seemed impossible that it could exist in the same world as things like gas wars, and tumors, and the Wasteland.

Sunlight streamed through huge semi-opaque windows and illuminated the smooth sandstone walls.  Green plants and relics of the old world surrounded a pool of crystal-clear water.  And in the center of it all, clothed in the purest white, was the Immortan's most prized treasure:

"Slash... the Desired."

"Imperator."  The wife looked him dead in the eye; his hair was restrained in a ponytail and draped with the same white fabric as the rest of his body.  It was the first time Izzy had ever seen Slash's face completely clear of dark curls, and the first time he'd seen him with enough clothing to cover the rest of his skin.  

“Why did you ask me to come here? Does Joe want something from me?”

Slash’s mouth twitched into a frown at the name, but he responded in a carefully level tone:

“I have a proposition for you.”

Izzy raised an eyebrow. What could a wife possibly have to offer him? Besides the obvious, of course, and that... that was more trouble than it was worth.

“I can’t stay here any longer,” Slash explained.

“You’re crazy if you think he’ll just let you leave,” Izzy replied with a startled laugh. It was inconceivable, but Slash was looking at him with complete sincerity.

“He won’t. But you want to leave too.”

“Do I?” He did, but Slash definitely wasn’t supposed to know that.  

“Please, you hate it here, it’s obvious.  You want to leave, and I want you to take me with you."

“Fucking hell – don't you think I would have left by now if I could?  And why would I help you anyway?  How do I know you're not just testing my loyalty to the Immortan?"

"Don't be ridiculous.  Me, doing favors for Joe?"

"Alright, fine. Then what if I betray you? I could be rewarded for... keeping the Immortan's property safe."  

"What if I tell everyone you took advantage of the Immortan's absence to take his one and only wife for a test drive?"

"Fuck. You're not as pure as we've been led to believe, are you?"

Slash snorted.  "Not by half."

"But that doesn't change anything.  The Immortan would rip my throat out with his horse teeth for trying to steal one of his breeders –"

“Don’t call me that!” Slash snapped.

For a moment, Izzy was reminded of a younger Slash, fresh from the Wasteland and ready to bite at anything that got too close.

But Slash quickly composed himself, trying and not entirely succeeding to recapture an air of calm assertiveness.  "Look, just... Just think about it, alright?  We have a chance, I know we do, and really... How much more of this do you think you can take?"

Izzy sighed. "I'll think about it," he conceded.  

"Thank you."

Slash did his best to hide his disappointment, and Izzy wasn't about to stick around and make things worse by trying to console him.  He turned around to leave the wives' sanctum, but hesitated before he reached the doorway.

"Slash... What really happened to the other Wives?"

"One... One miscarried. The Immortan wasn’t happy about that. The other tried to..." his lips faltered at the worst profanity in the Citadel, "... abort her pregnancy, it didn't end well. The Organic Mechanic couldn't do anything but give her something for the pain.  They give us a serum, sometimes, to help us sleep.  I gave her my dose."

--

The scouting party brought back a feral! they said.  Full-life and raving mad, driving an Interceptor, can you believe it?

No, Izzy couldn't believe it.  Couldn't believe that Axl Rose, MFP legend turned Road Warrior, could get taken down by a pack of half-dead War Boys.  But the proof was in front of him, shivering in a cage, starving and in dire need of a shave.  

"...I-Izzy?"

His voice was exactly the same as it always was, the respirator that Izzy cobbled together a lifetime ago couldn't hide the low timber that sometimes still appeared in his dreams.  

He'd made a mistake when he thought he could play it safe at the Citadel.  He should have listened when Axl told him they were better off on their own.  The Citadel was a shrine to depravity, and he wouldn't let Axl become another one of its victims – he needed to get them out of the tower walls and far away as soon as possible. It would be a challenge to escape unnoticed... but Izzy knew the perfect distraction.  

--

"I'll make a deal with you, Slash."

Slash didn't have the decency to look shocked when Izzy barged into the biodome uninvited – or the decency to put on the thin white shirt that lay discarded on the floor.

Actually, Izzy was the one looking shocked when his eyes fell on Slash’s bare belly and his carefully planned proposition died in his throat.

“What’s the deal?” Slash asked, but Izzy was more concerned with his unfortunate new realization:

“You didn’t tell me you were pregnant! What were you thinking, asking me to help you? The Immortan is going to shred me to pieces!”

“He’d shred you anyway, this won’t change anything,” Slash gritted out. Pregnant or not, there was no way he was about to let Izzy back out, not now. “What’s the deal, Stradlin?”

Izzy hated to be caught off guard, but he could use this to their advantage.  Joe would never risk hurting a potential heir, making Slash an even better shield than before.  And once he and Axl split off, there was no way Joe would waste time and resources going after a twice-disgraced Imperator and a feral bloodbag before he got his pregnant wife back, giving them a valuable head start – if it came to that.

"I'll take you with me on my next supply run.  Ten days from now.  We'll go to the Buzzards' territory, trade guzzoline for another vehicle.  Then we part ways, got it?  I'll get you out of here but I'm not babysitting you or your sprog for the rest of my life."

"You don't want to get caught with me, you mean.  Stopping to deal with the Buzzards will give the Immortan time to catch up to us.  I'm fucked on my own."

Izzy didn't respond, and tried to look like it didn't matter to him whether Slash took his offer.

"Fine.  If they catch up... At least I'll die historic on the Fury Road," Slash said with a sardonic smile.  "But I have a request – I need you to find me a driver.  Someone who doesn't serve the Citadel, someone no one will notice is missing."

"There is no one like that."

"Really?  All those people down there, and none of them can operate a car?"

"If they could, they wouldn't be there."

"There must be someone," Slash insisted.  Izzy sighed.

"I'll see what I can do in ten days.  But what the hell do you need them for?"

"Well... I can't drive."

--

On his third visit, Izzy had spent enough time in the biodome to say that stepping inside the pristine vault always made him feel like a dirty rag, used to wipe away sweat and grime then left out to stiffen in the dusty waste.  

But if he was a dirty rag, then Duff was roadkill.  He was a half-life, one of the Wretched who clung to the sides of the Citadel like barnacles, bathing in dust while the Immortan bathed in Mother's Milk.  He was lanky – no, skeletal, nothing but sunburned skin and bone.  He carried the Wasteland with him wherever he went, tracking dust with each step.  Izzy bit down on the irrational urge to warn him not to touch anything in the vault.

The black leather collar around his neck marked him as a former denizen of Gas Town, one who had likely outlived his usefulness if his rickety prosthetic leg and the cluster of nasty tumors half-hidden by his hair had anything to say about it.  Clearly, he was in no shape to labor in the refinery.  Rumor had it that The People Eater was a cannibal – as his name suggested – but evidently Duff had escaped that fate, perhaps because he had no meat on his bones to speak of, and instead sought out clean water, abundant food, and fresh air at the Citadel.  Hah.

Slash stared at them over his shoulder, wide-eyed and seated in the shallow pool in the center of the room.  Tiny bottles lined the edge of the pool, and the scent of flowers wafted in the air.

"A bath? Now, really?"

"It might be the last chance I get," Slash countered, but he rose from the water, the beads on his skin already drying in the inescapable desert heat.  Izzy averted his eyes as Slash wrapped a length of gauzy white cloth around his waist, tugged a loose shirt over his head, and bent forward to twist another cloth around his damp hair.  Then, finally, he turned to face his guests. "Is this...?"

"This is Duff, the Wretched.  Not a War Boy.  He came from Gas Town, so he can drive."

"Good."  Duff was staring at Slash like a mirage, but Slash knew how to get on a person's good side: "Do you want some water, Duff?"

--

"How the fuck did you get in here?!" In a heartbeat, Izzy's handgun was aimed at the War Boy's head.  He saw movement out of the corner of his eye.  "Slash, get away from him."

"No! You can't kill Steven!"

"He knows too much, he's a liability.  Kill him and let's go," Axl advised.

"No! Stradlin, who even is this guy?" Slash demanded, but once again, he received no explanation.  

"Slash, what's going on, where are you going? Please don't leave me!"

"Steven, I –"

"Take me with you! I can help!"

"Slash, I'm serious.  Step away." Izzy inched closer, his gun unwavering.  War Boys were unpredictable, Kami-crazy.  You never knew what they might do when backed into a corner.  

But Slash was crazier – he pushed Steven back, placing himself between Izzy and his target.  Izzy recognized the steely glint in his eyes before Slash even spoke: "He's coming with us."

--

They were curled up in the hold of the War Rig, surrounded by food and supplies that would never make it to Gas Town like they were supposed to.  Duff was happily munching away at a carrot, and Slash was sitting with his legs curled up to his chest.

"Are you scared?" Duff asked.

"... Yes," Slash admitted, barely audible over the roaring engine.  "Are you?"

"No."

"Why not?  If we get caught, you'll be punished too, for helping me.  And he doesn't care about taking you alive."

Duff shrugged.  "It doesn't really matter, does it?  I've got a few months left, at best."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be.  I've had my whole life to come to terms with it.  Well, half-life."

It was a terribly morbid joke, but Slash still laughed.

“So... You’re not afraid of anything, then?”

“Well, I don’t know – When Izzy brought me to you, I was scared. It was like he’d taken me out of the real world and dropped me in a fantasy. I thought if I touched anything, I’d destroy it; if I spoke, I’d break the spell and wake up in the Wasteland, half dead with a crow pecking at my tongue. I thought if I got too close to you, I'd pass on my illness, and if I looked at you too long, I'd go mad and start believing in things like beauty and health and the goodness of humanity."

Slash could have laughed at the momentous gap between Duff's perception of the biodome and his own.  Instead, when Duff finished his recollection, Slash crawled across the middle of the hold and pressed himself against Duff's side.  

Duff tried to scoot away, but Slash entangled him with the soft touch of fine cloth and uncalloused hands. He wrapped his arms around Duff’s thin torso and laid his head on his shoulder.

“No, don't go.  You don't have to be scared, Duff...  You're the cleanest person to touch me in a long time."

Hesitantly, Duff reached up and let his good hand rest on Slash’s back. Slash’s hair brushed against his collar, even softer than his clothes, and when Duff breathed deeply he could still make out the sweet scent that filled the room when they first met.

For a moment, Duff let himself get lost in the fantasy world that still surrounded Slash, even in the hold of the War Rig, miles from the Citadel. He could forget about the danger they were in, the cruelty they’d experienced, and even the ticking time bombs in his own flesh.

“Do you think your baby will survive?”

“I don’t know.” Slash didn’t sound optimistic, he toyed with his sleeve and avoided Duff’s gaze.

“I’ve never seen a completely healthy baby before, I didn’t think it was possible. But then I saw you, and you’re perfect, so maybe...”

Slash scoffed.

“The Immortan is toxic. He taints everything: the water, the people... and me. If I was ever perfect, I’m sure as hell not anymore, and neither is this baby.”

Duff hugged Slash closer, and slid a hand down to his belly.

“We’ll see.”

----

[part 2]

#title from paradise city #this fic is so much longer than my usual omg #sodafics #gnr fanfic #gnr #guns n roses #guns and roses #slash #saul hudson #steven adler #izzy stradlin #duff mckagan #axl rose #mad max #mad max au #sorry to whoever follows the mad max tag and did not want to see this...

[mag200]

ROADKILL / SHRINE : last breaths

i placed a fan on the opposite wall to make the pages flutter and simulate the passing of cars. didn’t translate to photo obviously so i knew i wanted to get some video footage.

this piece started in homage to a dead deer i saw, and became a way of trying to work through who is allowed to die with dignity and who isn’t.

mixed media // ko-fi

#my art #art #abstract art #installation #mixed media #deer #roadkill / shrine #vid

[thatoneraven]

I finished all the info on my boy, so I'm just gonna drop it because I'm an impatient motherfucker. I put a lot of effort into him to try and make him as realistic to the game as possible.

The Taxidermist Rian ‘Kazugra’ O’Byrne Gender: Male Born: June 20, 1997 Age: 24 Nationality: Irish American Realm: Hangman’s Forest Power: Frankenstein’s cure Weapon: Walking stick Movement speed: 115% Power speed: 130% Terror radius: 32 meters Height: Tall DLC: Beauty in Death Special ability Frankenstein’s Cure “A powerful concoction containing poisonous plants such as nightshade and hemlock. It disables the body, but the mind remains awake. For a disease as destructive as humanity, paralyzation is the only cure.” Start the trial with 4 vials. To cure a survivor, press and hold the power button to prepare the syringe. Release the power button to increase movement speed for 10 seconds and rush at the survivor to initiate injection. A successful injection will trigger a timer for the survivor. At the end of the timer, the survivor is immediately put in the dying state and killer instinct reveals their location for 5 seconds. Before the timer ends, survivors can find and inject the remedy at cabinets scattered throughout the map. These cabinets are highlighted in white to the killer and affected survivors. To replenish your stock of vials, interact with a cabinet. Cured survivors suffer from the following afflictions: - Hindered effect - Exhaustion effect - Illusionary terror radius Perks Shadow kin You feel a sense of kinship with the crows of the realm. In your time of need, they offer you their eyes. All survivors within 5/8/12 meters of a crow will have their aura revealed for 5 seconds. Shadow kin has a cool down of 1 minute. Stirred Mulch The lessons of the forest stick with you. Listen to nature, and she will guide you. Disturbances in the environment are significantly more noticeable. Scratch marks made by survivors last 1/3/5 seconds longer. Sounds made by running survivors are amplified. Formaldehyde You crave the perfect specimen. You become obsessed with one survivor. Every time your obsession is healed within a 48 meter radius of you, you gain a token. You can gain up to 4 tokens. Each token decreases your terror radius by 3/5/8 meters. If the obsession is sacrificed or killed, all tokens are lost. Lore Rian O’Byrne was born in Ireland in 1997. At the age of 3, his family moved to America in the hopes of achieving a better life. They started a new life in Detroit, Michigan, but quickly fell into poverty after the chaos of 9/11. Growing up poor in a world where he had to live in constant fear deeply scarred his psyche. He was labeled as an old soul, always isolating himself from his peers and opting to read a book rather than play. With his childish innocence ripped away too soon, he watched with bare eyes as humans destroyed the world. He learned hatred, rage, and vengeance as those around him began treating him differently, separate from the rest of the population. He fell to self harm, finding comfort in the punishment of his human body. As if taking pity on him, nature left a gift in his path. Rian, at the age of 12, found an injured crow on the back steps of his house. He had a soft spot for animals, so he took the crow in and attempted to heal it. The crow lasted a few minutes, but ended up taking its last breath in his hands. He handled it the way he handled everything that upset him, he turned to his creativity to right the situation. He made it his mission to keep the bird’s beauty alive in death. With the help of the internet, he learned how to take apart the bird and salvage its parts. He took its skull and painted it to represent the night sky. In the basement closet, he set up a small shrine for the bird. Its skull rested in a bed of black feathers, surrounded by a crown of smaller bones and dried flowers. As if nature had appointed him a purpose, Rian started finding dead animals wherever he went. They started off small: birds and rodents. He would take them home and perform the same ritual of taking their bones and painting them. Eventually, the animals started getting larger, harder to hide. He managed to salvage a roadkill cat at one point, almost getting caught by his parents who arrived home sooner than expected. He’d started taking walks in the forest nearby, occasionally finding shed antlers to add to his work. After returning from one of his night walks, he found his parents in the basement inspecting a sickly sweet smell. In a panic, Rian ran upstairs and packed a bag with his things and ran away from home at the age of 16. With what little money he had, he managed to make it to a small town in the upper peninsula. A local farmer found him dehydrated and starving on the side of the road, and decided to take him in. They arranged a deal. Rian would work for them, and they would help him get back on his feet. He would wake up early everyday to work tirelessly on the farm, and would turn in early at night to work on preserving animals he found nearby. Out of fear, he kept these shrines out in the forest. He would often come back to find them ruined. This frustrated him, so when he managed to save up enough, he got a small apartment in the heart of the town. He continued to work on the farm in his free time, but with his own space, he was able to keep a safe workspace. He managed to get a job as a vet technician, giving him a better source of income. With this money, he was able to get better supplies for his work. He learned how to preserve flesh and make leather from leftover skin. Bigger subjects became easier to deal with now that he actually had the tools for working with them. His home became a graveyard of sorts, a place to remember the unfortunate victims of humanity. He lived in peace for 2 years, but as he already knew, good things don’t last. A man broke into his house late one night while he was working on a deer skull, holding him at knife point while he threatened him. Rian, strengthened by years of work on the farm, overpowered the man and turned his knife on him. All the rage and hatred he had held over the years came spilling out when the man insulted his work. Rian slit his throat, watching with disinterest as the life faded from his eyes. It was similar to the animals he worked with, but this time, he felt no sympathy, no urge to preserve him. He wanted to tear him apart and put him back together to represent the monster he really was. Rian locked himself away in his room for weeks on end, feigning sickness so he could work on his new project. After 4 weeks of work, Rian took the complete work and hung it in a tree in the surrounding forest where he knew someone would find it. The man was completely unrecognizable. His skin had been removed, dried muscles exposed and decorated with shards of glass. His limbs had been amputated and sewn back on with wire; his wrists ended in stumps, hands relocated to cover his empty eye sockets. His jaw hung low, black tongue flopping uselessly in the tooth empty mouth. His teeth stood out in a crown around his exposed brain, accompanied by shards of glass. His genitals had been burned off, and his gut had been ripped open and emptied, leaving only a dried heart hanging in the empty space. A week later, his work hit the newspapers. People began panicking; there had never been a killer in that town, let alone one that gruesome. Rian reveled in the fame, the power, the fact that he had finally gotten rid of one of the things ruining the world. He grew addicted to the feeling, and started watching people to find his next victim. With the leather he harvested from his last victim, he made a mask roughly resembling a crow. He became obsessed with the idea of plague doctors; he wanted to embody an inhuman doctor, here to cure humanity of its filth. From this sparked his new identity: Kazugra. He was no longer human, he was a vengeful spirit come back from the dead to enact vengeance. His next victim was a pedophile who he managed to drag into the forest. He ended up tied to the trunk of a tree along a hiking trail. He made headlines all month. After his third victim, Rian realized it was too dangerous to stay in the heart of the town. With what he had saved up, he moved to a cabin in the woods nearby. When he would go into town for work and other tasks, he would keep an eye out for future victims. Mangled bodies began to show up more frequently in the trees. People dubbed him “the modern Frankenstein” for his monstrous creations. The surrounding forest became the “Hangman’s forest.” To make matters easier for himself, Rian started learning how to create mixtures of deadly plants to take out his victims. He started a small garden of nightshade and hemlock, favoring those plants for their ability to paralyze his victims. At first, the mixture was too strong, resulting in his victims dying swiftly. Though, with some adjustments, he was able to get the perfect solution, capable of disabling them while leaving them awake. The police were struggling to identify the killer, as Rian was meticulous in his care to leave no clues. The bodies continued to pile up, and news of his work began to spread throughout the U.S. With the leather he had harvested from his victims, he made a new mask. One to represent his true self. During a particularly rough kill one night, a person managed to capture a picture of him with his mask on. The picture spread like wildfire, and he became a controversial subject online. At the age of 24, the police finally caught a trace of the man behind the murders. They found a single strand of red hair crusted to her dried flesh. Immediately, they tracked him down and pinpointed his location. As soon as Rian heard the vehicles outside his home, he fled into the forest. The forest seemed to whisper to him, telling him how to get away. A crow descended from the trees, staring at him with burning orange eyes. The whispers told him to follow it, so he did. The forest grew foggier and darker, until Rian was swallowed into the night. The modern Frankenstein was never found.

#DBD #Dead by Daylight #DBD oc #DBD oc killer #Slasher #Slasher oc #DBD Taxidermist #DBD Rian #DBD Kazugra #The Taxidermist #Rian O’Byrne #Rian “Kazugra” O’Byrne #Kazugra

[attack-on-my-emotions]

Aome’s Random BOTW Moments

- On my way to a known spot that has good stated horses, I find Tabantha Stables. Making it a little pit stop with Rito village nearby and I hear a Lynel roar. I have no idea where the heck it came from, but I felt fear

- Wizrobs can fuck off the annoying little cunts

- On my way to do the Stalhorse quest, I’m looking at the open space and think “I hope there’s no lynels nearby”.......there were in fact two in the area

- While in a forest I was swimming up rivers and landed on some rocks for a korok thing when I heard the mystical dragon music. I look up and it is right in my face 

- Climbed up the mountain for the Bird in the Mountain shrine quest and was confused if I had to find a real bird to hunt. I went to search a video to find out what to do to find the bird and the guy was like “climb up to the top of the tree” and I look over to the recently cut down tree....oops

- Found Tilty McHorse man

- I really wish we could borrow donkeys to ride or be a companion. Their EARS!

- I got the big horse boi and the amount of roadkill I’ve had including a moose just keeps climbing. All of it unintentionally 

- Me and a horse riding Bokoblin ran at each other like a jousting match and both of us got thrown off our horses

- I was trying to chase the Korok on the bridge to Tarry Town. Instead of jumping off like normal to use the paraglide to go lower, Link swan dived. Emergency paraglide landing on the shore below, I was laughing my ass off. I heard scuttling, moved the camera, and got jump scared by a Stalizalfo. I screamed by the sudden attack and ran away laughing even more

- I was planning on going horse catching and I left Link at the prime horse spot. The game loaded and right in front of me was the perfect horse I was looking for. Horse was caught and ended up being a 5 star in speed! Now I finally have my discount Epona!

#The Legend of Zelda #Breath of the Wild #BOTW #Aome's Gaming Adventures

[wild-west-wind]

Concept: On a drive home from the city a woman's phone suggests she take an alternate route. "Take Hwy 263, save 20 minutes." She shrugs and takes it. A few miles down the road and it's clear something isn't right. The signs point to cities she's never heard of. Strange vines claw at the edge of the highway. Unknowable clumps of rotting roadkill heap on the shoulders. Soon she understands that Highway 263 isn't taking her home, it's taking her further and further from anything she's ever known. One mile she's on dirt road, the next on concrete, through desert and forest pressed impossibly close, through towns full of baleful eyes and crumbling shrines to the gods of their godless, blighted lands. She will never get home, she belongs to the road now, trapped like an ant in a pitcher plant, doomed, still squirming.

#i keep trying to write a story about towns disappearing #and ive decided i like people losing their places more

[starsailorstories]

The Revelator’s computers are still running. To turn them off would be to call her mission over, and it isn’t, maybe it will never be. There are natural ends, and there are unnatural ends, and if you do not accept the latter, the elders said, the Lady of the Vacuum will sometimes back you up. Thanks to her refusal (and to the finest mechanical technology a tribute to the Sitherian Archpraeceptor could buy, circa her girlhood) she knew that this year the longest night of Earth’s winter would be the same as the “official” winter solstice of the Cosmonist calendar back home.

When the vultures rose from the highway, her sailor’s cynicism balked and dithered and obscured. But to the core of the child who lit candles in the ancestor shrines of Shessrun Abbey all those turns ago, it couldn’t possibly be clearer that some ineffable force or other was keen to cut a deal.

The December patreon story, “Void Song,” is here! Click here or through the image--and sign up to become a $3 patron if you haven’t yet--to read. 

It’s about 3k words, and, as I said before, a bit of a weird one. I didn’t intend for it to feel like a sequel to “Rise and Shine” but it kind of does to me? And as with that one my only recommendation is to embrace the ambiguity. Content warning for, um...roadkill descriptions right at the beginning.

As always, reblogs are appreciated! If you’re new to the Sweet Chariot universe, start here.

#sweet chariot #short stories #original sci fi #sf

[reaching-for-roses]

Rennaisance Fair with the Theoi

So yesterday I went to the rennaisance fair with my bf and we had a great time!

Before we went I made my usual pre-travel offering to Hermes of incense and pocket change. I prayed for him to look after us during our travels and invited him to join us in the festivities. I asked him if he would extend the invitation to any of the other theoi who would like to join.

So on the way there, my bf and I prayed that Zeus would keep the thunderstorms at bay, and Apollo would keep the day from being too awfully hot. We talked about what each deity would enjoy there and these were our conclusions:

In our experience Hermes just loves any kind of adventure. It's also a huge marketplace so it's basically in his wheelhouse anyway. He'd be high fiving all the kids dressed as rogues or thieves and looking after the competitions.

Papa Zeus would be making sure everything was in order, that proper xenia was being followed and everyone was safe and having a good time.

Dionysus would love the theatre of it. All those people dressed up and putting on a show. There is also plenty of drinking going on.

Hephaestus would like to see all the craftspeople at work. So many tents filled with awesome stuff that's made by hand. Including, of course, swords and other weaponry.

Ares would enjoy watching the jousts and sword fights. He'd be laughing at the knights in shining armor and all those unbloodied weapons. He'd be giving some kid advice on how to properly hold his sword and shield.

Athena would also like the competitions, and there's tents with books of Medieval history I think she'd get pretty excited about. The birds of prey show (with beautiful owls) would probably be a favorite of hers.

Persephone and Hera would most likely find all the hub-bub surrounding The Queen amusing.

Aphrodite and Persephone would probably think the fairies were adorable in their glittery makeup and flower crowns. And I think Aphrodite would want to smell all the handmade soaps and lotions.

I think Hestia would be happy to witness the camaraderie between friends and the togetherness of people out on a fun day with their family.

Apollo would be playing along with the musicians, encouraging people to drop coins in their cup.

Artemis would be carefully watching the archers, whispering tips in their ears. "Aim a little lower, my sweet. You won't hit the target the way you're doing it now."

When we came to Demeter, Poseidon and Hades we started to struggle a bit coming up with associations. We weren't sure what Demeter would like because neither of us have any experience with her. Perhaps she'd take pleasure in the pretty forest surroundings and the castle gardens, or the food court with all the yummy food.

The only thing I could think of for Poseidon is that he might like to see the people dressed as pirates singing sea shantys??

As for Hades, I wasn't sure what exactly he'd enjoy about the festivities. Maybe the tents filled with shiny crystals? Or the skulls and bones and animal furs used in various items? Maybe the necromancers dressed in full black robes with skull tipped staves.

Feel free to add your ideas, I'd love to hear them!

We had a lot of fun. On the way there we saw lots of vultures (Ares?) and a turtle/tortoise? Which sadly had been run over and was roadkill. We took it as a sign of Hermes' and Hades' presence.

We saw some shows, listened to musicians and comedians, watched the jousting and sword fighting, learned about birds of prey, admired craftsmanship, ate delicious food, bought souvenirs, played a game of avoid the fairies at all costs (because they WILL fuck with you), got our exercise in, threw some throwing stars (which my bf was pretty good at, but I suuuuucked at), and perhaps my favorite thing of the day.. tried archery for the first time.

I absolutely fell in love with it! At first I just couldn't get the hang of it, aiming way too high. I kept accidentally almost dropping the arrows. But then I swear I actually had a moment with Artemis. It was like I suddenly knew I needed to take a breath, trust my instincts (don't spend forever aiming and don't anxiously grip too tight) and let it go. So I just picked up the bow, nocked the arrow, let it fly and it went straight through the bullseye. I got a surge of confidence from that, and the next couple of shots were better.

I really have a newfound respect for Artemis after that experience. I can't imagine shooting while moving or hitting a moving target. But I really did develop an interest for it, and I think I will invest in some equipment and set up some targets in the field behind my house. I can dedicate my practice time to Artemis.

Oddly enough, on the way back home we saw a live turtle making his way slowly across the road so my bf quickly pulled over, motioned for traffic to stop or go around, and ran over to coach him to safety. He made it across without injury!

Pictured above are the gorgeous crystals we bought: smoky quartz, amethyst, clear quartz, and pyrite. I'm going to use them as the start of a small shrine for Hades and Persephone.

So anyways, comment with other ideas on what the gods would be doing at the renn fest, or if you have any archery tips for me!

#hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #hellenic deities #hellenic polythiest #hellenic paganism #theoi worship #hermes deity #persephone deity #aphrodite deity #zeus deity #hera deity #hestia deity #hades deity #demeter deity #dionysus deity #ares deity #athena deity #hephaestus deity #poseidon deity #rennaisance fair #Rennaisance festival #renn fest #renn fair #archery #crystals #offerings #shrines #jousting #sword fighting