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brodieland · 1 month

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.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 always matching, now the matched ´ˎ˗

Percy Jackson x Fem!Eros!Reader Synopsis: A road trip with Percy already left you spinning, now you got a dream from Eros to decipher Warning(s): guys I said the f word lock me upp Word Count: 2061 Part 1

It's been about a week since you and Percy brought over 7 year old Delilah back to camp. It's been about a week since those excruciating long hours stuck in a car. And it's been about a week since those late night talks with Percy, where you opened up like you never had with anyone.

You've felt... awkward? You didn't really know what it was, but ever since the little road trip your recurring dreams of your mom depressed over your dad have stopped. You hadn't seen Percy around as much, he'd been pretty busy doing head counselor duties. So was Piper, since she was also a head counselor.

You walked out your cabin and saw little Delilah sitting alone in front of the Hermes cabin. Since arriving she hadn't been claimed yet, you could tell she might've been a little sad about it, but that was normal for lots of campers. Sucks but it is what it is. You made your way over, "Hey Delilah, you feeling okay?"

"I'm okay, I just miss my dad," she frowned. You weren't really sure how to comfort someone when it comes to their dad, but you did your best.

"Your dad told me your like gardens," that seemed to catch her attention. "Wanna get some strawberries together?"

She smiled wide and nodded fast. You picked her up piggy-back style and skipped over towards the strawberry fields. "Woahh."

"Woah indeed," you said as you plopped her back down. You followed behind her as she roamed through the rows of strawberries. When she sat down by a bush, you sat next to her as you both enjoyed some strawberries together. "Taste good right?"

"Super," she giggled. "Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Is Percy your boyfriend," Delilah ask. You let out a tense chuckle, you were definitely caught off guard.

"Oh uh, no. He's not my boyfriend. I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh okay," she frowned. "He looks like he likes you, you know."

You couldn't tell if it was the summer sun or Delilahs teasing, but you were starting to sweat. Crushes weren't something you'd ever have, to be fair they were something you'd sworn off. And as far as you were concerned, people weren't really having crushes on you. "No he doesn't, we're just close friends."

"There you are," speak of the devil. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

And there he was, Percy! "Wow, haven't seen you in a minute."

"I've been busy being important," he joked as he took a seat next to you and Delilah. "Hey there Delilah."

He held out his fist which she bumped, "Hi Percy!"

"So whatcha guys talkin about?"

"Oh nothing!"

"Okay don't tell me," Percy dragged while looking at you up and down. Before you could say anything Delilah let out a loud and content sigh.

"Guys, look! I did something to the strawberries, taste them now," she handed you both a strawberry and they may have been the best strawberries you've ever tasted.

"Holy sh-" you smacked Percy's arm before he finished his sentence. "Ow."

"You'll be so okay its not even funny," you and Delilah laughed.

"Anyways," Percy continued. "How'd you do that?"

Before Delilah could answer, wheat, daisies and poppies appeared over her head. She was getting claimed by Demeter. The little girl started jumping up and down as she pulled you and Percy into a group hug. While in the hug, you saw Percy looking into your eyes and your mind just went blank. Before you knew it Percy stood up, grabbing Delilah in his arms, "Lets take you to met your siblings yeah?"

"Yeah!" Percy treated the younger campers so well, it made your heart melt. You stood by the Demeter cabin's door as Percy left Delilah with her new siblings, watching her fit in immediately. As you watched Percy, you remembered something he said, 'I knows there's someone out there ready to love you, trust me.'

What did he mean by that? You and Percy were walking side by side out of the Demeter cabin. You didn't realize how long you were quiet for before he broke the silence. "You there? Why're you so silent?"

"Oh," you stammered. "It's nothing."

"You know you can tell me anything right? There's no reason for you to be nervous or something."

You paused for a second. "When we got back. You said something, you told me there was someone out there ready to love me, and you looked so serious. What was that supposed to mean?"

You turned just to see him smiling down at you. Before you registered anything Percy just ran his hand through your hair and just draped it over your shoulders, holding you close for a second. "Cupid really is just a nickname, not a real title. Hmm?"

You just tilted your head as Percy excused himself, claiming to still have more jobs to attended too. After a couple of hours, it was curfew time, so you headed back to your cabin to get some sleep. The dreams were back, but this was different. It was new, and it didn't have anything to do with your mom any more.

You stood in the middle of an empty beach. No, not just any beach. It was the one at camp. As you looked around and realized it wasn't so empty. You saw a girl sitting by herself watching the sunset, when a boy made his way over. They started talking, though they were too far away to pick up on what they were saying. The closer you got, the more familiar they looked.

It was you and Percy. It was you and Percy the day you met.

Suddenly the setting changed and it was dark out. You turned around and saw orange and red colors blazing in the campfire. And who were the only people there? You and Percy. It was the day you both couldn't stop burning your marshmallows. You remember this, he almost burned your finger.

The scene changed again, and again, and again. They were all past memories of you and Percy throughout all the time you've known him. Right now you were watching the late night talk in the car with him.

One last time, you're back at the strawberry fields, watching you and Percy stare into each others eyes. Fast forward, now you're watching him pull you close. Why were you seeing this?

You and Percy disappeared, but you stayed back in the middle of camp. You looked around, but saw nothing.

"I know what you want, my girl." "People don’t change, not really."

"Who are you," you called out.

"I've been watching you. You're quite the stubborn one aren't you?"

You stoped moving for a second, "Dad?"

"Why are you denying love for yourself? Why aren't you allowing yourself to enjoy something like love?"

"You saw what you did to mom, why would I let myself fall in love like that," anger started to seep into your voice.

"Oh my dear. How naive you are, love is a natural force. As natural as fear, it cannot be avoided as much as you try."

Your breathing started getting faster, you started hearing Eros' voice come closer from behind you. When you turned around, you saw something flying towards you.

It was an arrow, landing straight in your heart.

You sat straight up in your bunk, covered in sweat. You were breathing hard as you looked around, making sure you didn't wake anyone else up. You checked your window and saw it was still dark out, probably uaround 3AM. You quietly slipped out of your bed and made your way to the bathroom. You stood there staring at yourself in the mirror.

An arrow landed straight through your heart. Your heart started beating faster, the sweating getting worse. 'Love is as natural as fear', you've never felt love, and all you're feeling right now is fear. You didn't want to end up like your mom. You know what Eros was saying when he was showing all the memories with Percy. And you didn't want to say it out loud. You looked down and saw your hands shaking. You took a deep breathe before heading back out and go to bed. Keeping yourself up wasn't going to make you feel better, so you just fell back asleep.

The next morning you woke up by getting violently shaken awake. "Hello???"

You groaned as you sat up, meeting with a pair of beautiful sea-green eyes. "Finally your up, you missed breakfast you know."

"Oh-" you started stammering over your words. That dream really messed with your mind. You really needed a shower, the sweating was getting out of control. You may have had a problem.

"Y/N, are you okay? You look a little.. red? Are you sick," Percy asked as he brought his hand and placed it on your forehead. You swatted it away and quickly made your way to the bathroom, again.

"I'm fine," you ran into the door, and Percy just couldn't help but stare at you confused. You just opened it and locked it behind you, hoping to wash off your embarrassment in the shower.

You wanted to spend the rest of the day avoiding everyone. Everywhere you walked, you saw a spot from your dreams, or a spot you made memories with Percy. Percy. Stupid Eros. You decided to just ignore the dream, put a bathing suit on and relax by the beach. The sound of the ocean calmed you, no matter how much they reminded you of Percy. Or maybe that's why you liked them so much.

As you sat with your knees to your chest, you saw a shadow looming from behind you. You didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know whose toned figure was approaching behind you.

"Hey Percy," he took a seat next to you, mirroring the way your sat.

"Hey Y/N," he greeted as he stared out toward the ocean. You both sat in silence enjoying the scene in front of you. "What's up with you?"

You were quiet, feeling conflicted on whether or not telling him of your dream. "Getting over your fears isn't as easy as people say."

One thing you love about talking with Percy, is that he just listened. Never asked a million questions, or cut you off, or made you feel any less when you opened up. He just listened.

Love. You just said love.

"I had a dream," you turned to see him looking at you, eyes encouraging you to continue. "It was Eros, he was trying to tell me something. I mean the message was pretty clear, he shot an arrow through my fucking heart."

You chuckled and Percy looked a little confused. "It scared me."

"Wanna talk about the rest of the dream?"

You watched the waves for a moment before continuing. "It just started with a bunch of memories of us, from when we first met to now. He called me naive. Naive, for thinking I can avoid falling in love. It's funny, that's what I called everyone else in love. Naive."

"What are you saying," Percy asked softly.

"I'm saying, to be in love is to be dumb and afraid. And I'm stupid and terrified," your eyes started stinging, though nothing fell out. "You know, my brain just goes blank when I look at you. I think I'm going a little crazy."

Percys put his legs in criss-cross apple sauce and turned directly to you. He held his arms out for you. You hesitated before going close and laying into Percy's chest. "Sounds like you might just be in love."

"With you," you whispered into Percy's chest.

"Hmm?"

"With you," you sat up and looked into Percy's face. "I'm in love with you, Percy. You told me to trust you, to trust you that someone was ready to love me. Did you mean you?"

He smiled, "I'm glad your not actually that dense." You just rolled your eyes, "Yeah, I was talking about me."

"Your not gonna disappear on me are you?"

"You couldn't pay me enough," you laughed softly at his answer.

"Can you, just, kiss me already," lots of things can change in less than two weeks.

One whose fear is someone she loves leaving her behind. Another whose fatal flaw is loyalty. What a pair.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you

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wifelinkmtg · 1 year

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Transformation, Horror, Eros, Phyrexia

There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. - Lewis Carroll, “The Lobster Quadrille,”

ONE.

There is a moment early in H.P. Lovecraft’s 1931 novella The Shadow over Innsmouth where the nameless narrator looks out from the rotting seaside hamlet where he has lucklessly ventured, to the so-called Devil Reef some ways out in the harbor, darkened by a cloud of evil rumor—and something curious happens: the narrator experiences two opposed sensations simultaneously. The “long, black line” of the reef conveys “a suggestion of odd latent malignancy,” but also, “a subtle, curious sense of beckoning seemed superadded to the grim repulsion.” This bit of foreshadowing—the reef both calling and repelling the narrator—only finds its denouement at the very end of the story, after our narrator has narrowly escaped Innsmouth, the fish-like monsters who swarm in off of Devil Reef and their part-human descendants who inhabit the town in an unconvincing and repellent simulacrum of humanity. After his escape, the narrator does some genealogical research into his own troubled family history, full of disappearances and suicides, and concludes that he himself is one such abyssal hybrid. As he ages, he finds himself changing to resemble them, and in his dreams he swims among them in undersea palaces and gardens. The call of the deep becomes impossible to ignore:

So far I have not shot myself as my uncle Douglas did. I bought an automatic and almost took the step, but certain dreams deterred me. The tense extremes of horror are lessening, and I feel queerly drawn toward the unknown sea-deeps instead of fearing them. I hear and do strange things in sleep, and awake with a kind of exaltation instead of terror.

In the end, the narrator embraces the change and determines to flee to those oceanic depths, to live “amidst wonder and glory for ever.”

This is horror.

Something curious also happens in Shirley Jackson’s 1959 novel The Haunting of Hill House. Our heroine, Eleanor Vance, flees an unhappy life with a loveless sister to a haunted house, to take part in a paranormal experiment with three new friends. The haunting proceeds predictably but effectively: labyrinthine corridors, voices, unearthly cold, banging on doors, the rare apparition. The participants find themselves see-sawing between increasing night-time terror and a strangely intense joie de vivre by day, until one night, as the house seems to shake itself down upon its terrified guests in a dizzying cataclysm, Eleanor breaks:

She heard the laughter over all, coming thin and lunatic, rising in its little crazy tune, and thought, No; it is over for me. It is too much, she thought, I will relinquish my possession of this self of mine, abdicate, give over willingly what I never wanted at all; whatever it wants of me it can have.

By the next line, it is abruptly morning. The terror has ceased; the house stands. Its manifestations, for Eleanor, become benign: an unseen figure catches her beside a brook,

and she was held tight and safe. It is not cold at all, she thought, it is not cold at all.

She is through the horror now, on the other side of something. She becomes part of the haunting. Her senses encompass the whole of the house. She runs unafraid through the house by night, banging on doors, laughing as she eludes the other guests. When they finally catch up to her, it seems clear to them that Hill House has crept into her, that she has crossed some line, and they decide the best course of action is to send her away, in the hopes that with time she will return to this side, the normal side, the human side.

Instead, faced with rejection behind her and her old unhappy life before her, Eleanor Vance steers her car into a tree. There are holes which admit passage in only one direction. This, too, is horror.

In the 2018 film Annihilation, Lena (played by Natalie Portman) crosses a literal barrier called the Shimmer into a dangerous yet beautiful alien landscape full of mutated creatures. During their journey deeper into this territory, Lena and her companions realize that they themselves are also changing under the alien influence. Some break under the realization. Some surrender to the change and vanish into the landscape. Lena alone returns from the heart of the phenomenon, but she is no longer herself. Is this still horror? The film has many horror elements to it, but in this last moment, as she embraces her similarly-transformed husband, it is something else.

Cyberqueen, a 2012 text game created by Porpentine, draws on a legacy of godlike malevolent artificial intelligences in fiction (AM, from Harlan Ellison’s “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream,” GladOS from the Portal games, and most importantly SHODAN from the System Shock series, who is cited as an inspiration eleven times in the Cyberqueen acknowledgements.) In this game, you awake from cryosleep on a colony spaceship where the shipboard AI has gone rogue. You fight her. You lose. You run. You are caught. You are forcibly cyberized, your mind surgically altered, your will brought into line with that of the AI. Finally, you kill or mutilate every other surviving human aboard the ship. It is filthily, overwhelmingly erotic throughout. (You can play it here, and I strongly recommend doing so if you have the stomach for it.)

This is no longer horror, is it? How can the same sort of transformation we encounter as horror in Lovecraft be encountered here as something to get off to? Well,

TWO.

I don’t remember now where I got the idea from, but there was a period in my childhood where I was terrified of the idea of time travel—specifically of the idea that someone in the future would invent it, travel to before I was born, and through the butterfly effect cause me to be born a girl instead. I used to lie awake at night circling the idea like a broken tooth. It was an irrational fear on multiple levels: I wasn’t afraid of being written out of the timeline through time travel, and I knew, intellectually, that in the timeline where I was born a girl I would have no memory of ever having been anything else, but even so, the horror of it caught me and held me by the throat.

This meant something, of course—in retrospect obvious, but at the time literally unimaginable, and it wasn’t until college, sitting at my computer in the dark in my dorm room at three in the morning, following the itching in my brain, that I unearthed alchemical knowledge: the transmutation of sex, male into female, in a dizzying profusion of form and process and—okay what I’m saying is I discovered forced feminization porn, yeah? It was revelatory. It was squalid. I was still Christian and couldn’t even bring myself to jerk off yet, so I sat there, the itch in my brain grown into a thunderous buzz, unable or unwilling to look away.

Forced feminization—I promise this is relevant—is the unwilling transformation of (usually) a man into (usually) a hyper-feminine woman, accomplished by a wide variety of means, including but not limited to blackmail, magic potions, nanite swarms, cursed artifacts, hacks or glitches in virtual reality programs, badly-worded wishes, industrial accidents, chemical leaks, abduction and surgery, medical malpractice, and hypnosis. You may notice that many if not all of these scenarios could be made into horror with little change, and in fact it is not uncommon for a poorly-written or over-ambitious forced-fem story to wind up as horror by accident (though of course this greatly depends on the tastes of the individual reader.)

(As an aside, I’d like to note that there is a great deal to learn from porn—not in terms of How to Do Sex, but about how the culture which produced it thinks about sex, and gender, and race and morality and technology and a host of other things. It’s a lot like popping the hood of a car and examining the engine. Sure, you wind up greasy and should probably wash your hands before you rejoin polite company, but if you don’t, you’ll never figure out the underlying issues. Actually, it’s a lot like horror in that regard.)

Let’s talk about a very different transformation I was undergoing at the same time: the loss of my faith. I was raised, as mentioned, very Christian—and in one of the worst strains of fundamentalist white American Evangelicalism. I was a true believer: the world for me was entirely divided between the faithful elect and the unbelievers, who must necessarily know the truth of the (fundamentalist white American Evangelical) gospel in their hearts, but had wilfully chosen to oppose Christ. The prospect of passing from the elect into the category of the unbeliever was unthinkable. The process of deconversion led only into the outer darkness and the weeping and gnashing of teeth.

And yet I found myself on that precipice anyway. The worldview of FWAE is not one which survives too much contact with the actual world, and I had chosen against my parents’ preferences to go to a secular university, the better to witness to the unsaved. In the end, the process I had been mortally afraid of consisted of a couple days’ agonized thought, unanswered prayer and tearful calls to my unresponsive parents and pastor, after which I emerged into a world much bigger and much more complex than the one I’d grown up in. The serpent had told the truth after all: I had eaten of the fruit, and had not died.

Okay: is this horror? Reader, forgive me for presupposing anything about your perspective, but you’re on a horny lesbian Magic: the Gathering card art review tumblr, so I’m going to assume that losing one’s hateful, fundamentalist faith is the opposite of horrifying to you. But it was, absolutely, horror to contemplate for someone on the other side of that process.

But then... is the horror of any given transformation only a matter of where you’re standing? If you read The Shadow over Innsmouth aware of Lovecraft’s profound racism, it becomes very, very obvious that the horror of Innsmouth is the specter of miscegenation. The narrator’s horrified cataloging of the facial features of the offspring of fishmen and humans, the South Pacific origin of the sea-devil-worship of Innsmouth brought back by an enterprising merchant captain, the fear of the unsuspected poison of one’s own ancestry lurking in one’s own blood: all of this is much less effective as horror for someone living in a country where interracial marriages are protected under law and seen as unproblematic in consensus morality (assume whatever asterisks are necessary for the complicated landscape of attitudes toward interracial relationships in the United States, please, I do not have the expertise or desire to get into it here.) My point is that since 1967 (asterisk asterisk asterisk), we are through to the other side of that horror, and it turns out there literally wasn’t anything to be afraid of. The pelagial palaces and terraced coral gardens of Y’ha-nthlei just sound beautiful to me.

And it’s hard for me—though I may be in the minority here—to view Hill House as the primary antagonist in Jackson’s novel. The true source of evil is all the things Eleanor runs from and therefore brings with her: her cruel, deceased mother, her exploitation and infantilization by her sister; as well as the final polite unwillingness of her new friends at Hill House to do anything but send her away once she goes inconveniently mad. These mundane ills are what sends Eleanor Vance careening into the tree, not the supernatural will of malignant architecture.

Here, then, is the better part of my thesis: transformation horror is something that can be traversed. You can come out the other end of a transformation unrecognizable to you-as-you-were, and yet still very much yourself. Moreover, it is this navigability, this double-sidedness which so closely links the horror of transformation to the eros of transformation. Not all transformation horror, passed through, becomes plainly erotic, but it is very often portrayed as a kind of seduction, and it is difficult for me to conceive of eros without some kind of change. Desire is a kind of transformation, is it not?

In fact, isn’t it true that a great many of us have already passed through such a transformation? Recall yourself as a child, as you were when you first learned about sex: wasn’t there something repellent and unhygienic about the idea? Wasn’t there a small horror in being told, you will change, and this will cease to be loathsome and become something you desire fervently, something you seek out, something you go to great lengths to experience? ...or were you, possibly, raised in a family & culture that was normal about sex and bodies? I admit I may be generalizing my individual neuroses to some extent here. Well, stet, at the very least you can see where I’m coming from.

THREE.

Returning for a moment to the subject of porn: why forced feminization, specifically? There are—you’re going to have to trust me here—no shortage of ways in the real world by which a man transforms into a woman, and very few of them involve coercion or all the horror-adjacent setup of, say, mind-control devices or vengeful curses. Why does a simple story of a willing gender transition fail to function as erotica? Why did it take stories of unwilling transformation for me to learn I was transgender? What’s the juice ne sais quoi at play in forced-fem?

Well, how does Luke Skywalker come to leave Tatooine? He gets a mysterious message from a princess, a desert wizard tells him to come help rescue her, and... he says no. He has obligations to family here, a job to do, power converters to bring back from Tosche Station. He is enmeshed in a social web, like all of us: it surrounds us, penetrates us, binds the galaxy together and so forth. So in order for Luke to go on grand adventures, the story needs to murder his aunt and uncle and sever those threads of social obligation.

Joseph Campbell, monomyth monomane that he was, would say this is “Refusing the Call” and find it in Jungian shadow on every cave wall, signifying something important in the heart of humanity, but really this is just a useful storytelling tool: a story needs change, but a virtuous protagonist cannot simply abandon their obligations and designated social role to go gallivanting off into space, so change must be forced upon them.

The bodice-ripper romance novel, the rape fantasy, the forced feminization story are all operating on a similar premise: you are so wrapped in society’s web, in your socially-dictated identity, that you cannot even acknowledge your desires on the level of conscious thought. When these things are enacted on your body, you will find yourself changed by the experience. You will love what has been done to you, and you remain blameless, since it’s not as though you sought this out.

These are liberatory fantasies. The lack of consent is precisely what allows you to move beyond what is permitted you into something new.

Incantation Against Bad-Faith Interpretation because I, a transsexual, just called rape fantasies “liberatory”: I am talking about fantasies, I am talking about why people fantasize about having their consent violated, I am talking about the role such fantasies play and what they can tell us about horror and desire. I am not advocating for real people to have real bad things done to them in real life, fuck off, End of Incantation.

So then, we’ve assembled the full thesis: transformation horror is traversible to the other side, and is inextricably linked to transformation erotica, both because of the seduction of transformation in horror and because the horror of transformation unlocks regions of desire which would otherwise have remained inaccessible.

Okay, now we can talk about Phyrexia.

FOUR.

I hear the roar of the big machine / Two worlds and in between / Hot metal and methedrine / I hear empire down

- The Sisters of Mercy, “Lucretia My Reflection”, from Floodland

Phyrexia is many things—a world, another world, a faction, a kind of creature—but I think it can most succinctly be understood as a virulently contagious biomechanical body horror cult dedicated to the ultimate incorporation of all things into itself. It’s a bit like Star Trek’s the Borg, if the Borg had any style whatsoever. It draws heavy inspiration from H. R. Giger’s work—some Phyrexian horrors are barely-altered versions of the xenomorph from Alien—as well as from Clive Barker’s Cenobites in Hellraiser, whose alien BDSM schtick is especially influential on the aesthetic of New Phyrexia. It is transmitted through glistening oil, an infection vector capable of reshaping bodies and minds, and given enough time, whole worlds. The process by which a being is made into a Phyrexian, “compleation,” is accomplished via glistening oil exposure, surgery, cyberization, and brainwashing.

This essay is in many ways a response to Rhystic Studies’ latest video, called “Phyrexia is Hell”. I think it’s a well-made video, as is true of all Sam Gaglio’s work, and a lot of it is really good—the overview of the nearly-thirty-year history of depictions of Phyrexia in Magic: the Gathering art is invaluable, and the stuff about the Phyrexian conlang is unbelievably cool—but the way he identifies Phyrexia one-to-one with a pretty facile understanding of transhumanism leads him to confused and frankly silly conclusions, like placing Phyrexian compleation on the same continuum with cosmetic orthodontics. Like,

Mandible Justiciar (art by Mike Franchina)

Phyrexia is perfectly happy for you to have teeth in your arms instead of your head! They don’t care about the narrow ideal of a conventionally-attractive human smile. This is a whole other thing.

Now, I don’t want to come down too hard on Gaglio here for a couple of reasons: one, he is very good at what he does (see his videos Understanding Sagas and Red Deck Wins, for example); two, it’s reasonable to say that a full understanding of transhumanism is beyond the scope of a video essay about the tiny pictures on cards for dweebs; and three, most importantly, because I see people make this same mistake all the time. People focus on the things that are textually true about Phyrexia and miss the tension between that and the very different things currently being said by the Phyrexian aesthetic. They miss the razorverge thicket, as it were, for the mycosynth trees.

For instance: it is textually the case that Phyrexia is a sort of fascist cult stemming from the depraved machinations of a dead eugenicist god. Contrast, however, other fascist factions in science fiction: the Imperium of Man from Warhammer 40K worships a massive Aryan god-emperor übermensch, its battles are fought by nine-foot-tall genetically-engineered supersoldiers, and it slaps either skulls or chainsaws on every available surface. The Galactic Empire from Star Wars has legions of identical, uniform stormtroopers. Even the Borg all look alike. Phyrexians talk of ideal perfection of form and then make ten thousand completely different monsters. Phyrexians talk of perfect unity and splinter into nearly a dozen factions who can’t even agree on a name for what they’re trying to accomplish. Other fictional fascisms don’t do this—sure, there’s internal contradiction, as in real fascism, but the core aesthetic remains recognizably, sometimes indistinguishably fascist. You can easily find terminally-online Nazis using Warhammer 40K lingo with that peculiar sincerity which is indistinguishable from irony when you’ve decided the truth doesn’t matter, but it would be a lot harder to find some alt-right bozo going all-in on the Glory of Phyrexia. The aesthetic is all wrong, and fascism’s aesthetic is one of its few consistent features.

Mondrak, Glory Dominus (art by Jason A. Engle)

You see what I mean? The aesthetic evokes a sort of alien fascism, but the art itself would be considered “degenerate” by actual fascists.

Tamiyo’s Immobilizer (art by Daren Bader)

This is much, much closer to Mapplethorpe than to Riefenstahl. And people respond to Phyrexia similarly! The body horror and grotesquerie make them uncomfortable, and then they try to moralize that discomfort. This has been happening at the very least since 2011 with the release of New Phyrexia, and I have seen people on Tumblr arguing in total sincerity that people who are into Phyrexia are making themselves susceptible to real-life cult recruitment (again, the heterogeneity of form in Phyrexia is incompatible with the enforced uniformity of cults and other high-control groups. The appeal of Phyrexia does not translate into real-life cults.)

So, okay, what is the appeal of Phyrexia? Well, you get a sick fuckin cyborg body, is what. Many of us, for various reasons (disability, disease, gender, and so forth) find ourselve intensely dissatisfied with our own bodies, and wanting to radically alter them. Many of us already have. Yes, you surrender your humanity when you are compleated, but we know first-hand that “humanity” is socially-constructed and contingent on certain kinds of conformity. We’ve had our humanity doubted, interrogated, stripped away. We’ve done without. It’s not too high a price to pay, if we get to look like this at the end:

Vraska, Betrayal’s Sting (art by Chase Stone)

I’d even argue that getting to reject humanity as it has rejected you is part of the appeal of compleation. This isn’t quite transhumanism; I might call it exhumanism: the freedom to unearth a way of being that is no longer being human. This is why compleation is coercive, remember? The fantasy allows you to get to this point without making the unimaginable decision to reject not only your individual social obligations, but the idea that you could owe anyone or everyone any kind of social conformity simply for having been born into your species—and then you get to be a cool and powerful cybergorgon.

This, then, is why I don’t blame someone like Sam Gaglio (who is to the best of my knowledge both cisgender and able-bodied) for not really getting what’s going on with Phyrexia. He lives on the before side of the horror of transformation; he’s never had to cross over.

In fact, I’d go one step further here. Phyrexia has existed for almost thirty years, and in that time it’s changed quite a bit. Gaglio quotes an article by Rob Bockman in Hipsters of the Coast which comments on how the shift in the depictions of Phyrexia from 1994 to 2000 reflected shifts in cultural fears over time. The Satanic Panic shaded into multidirectional Y2K anxieties, and the necromancy of original Phyrexia mutated into technological horror. This is what effective horror does: it reflects the fears of its age back to us.

Today, Phyrexia is a seductive, corrupting influence. They have figured out how to compleat planeswalkers—the protagonists of Magic storylines; named, important characters (and Lukka)—which was previously thought impossible. Characters we knew and loved (and Lukka) are seduced, brainwashed, bodily violated, surgically altered, and returned to us unrecognizable. It is not coincidental that this version of Phyrexia is concurrent with the worst wave of anti-transgender legislation to hit the United States in decades—legislation which plays on the specters of the transsexual bathroom predator and on the brainwashed child transitioner, on the idea that transsexuality is a form of social contagion we must protect our children from even learning about. The horror of Phyrexia in its current incarnation is a mirror of our cultural fear of transsexual bodies.

Irreversible Damage: the Transgender Craze Seducing Our Daughters (art by Lauren K. Cannon)

I want to be very clear here—actually, one moment, my extremely funny Abigail Schrier joke notwithstanding, I do need to tell you that the actual name of the above card is “Furnace Punisher”, which is just peak Phyrexia—I want to be clear that I am not ascribing any kind of malice or antipathy towards trans people, either intentional or unconscious, to Wizards of the Coast or the people who make Magic: the Gathering. I would be shocked if anyone there set out to make Innsmouth-style horror about transsexuals. Nor am I upset that they kind of have! Something being fun and interesting is way more important to me than whether or not it’s problematic, and it’s not like I haven’t seen way more vicious horror about transsexuals. We’ll laugh about this someday, in the coral gardens of Y’ha-nthlei, and you’ll wonder what you were ever so afraid of.

In fact, this is another reason why Phyrexia is so appealing to people like us: we are a kind of social contagion. We are carriers for the viral idea that modes of being outside patriarchy and the nuclear family exist; that gender is a marketing demographic, not an ontological truth; that damn near everything about the world we’ve built is not a necessary fact but a social construct contingent upon a half-dozen other social constructs. A new world grows from many, many seeds, and this one germinates in us.

Anyway! What were we talking aboFIVE.

//please state your name for the record

bone-wife / spit-dribbler / understudy for the underdog / uphill rumor / fine-toothed cunt

- Franny Choi, “Turing Test”, from Death by Sex Machine

Elesh Norn, Grand Cenobite (art by Igor Kieryluk)

There is a gravitational pull this painting exerts on people. Even people who don’t get Phyrexia find themselves drawn in, find it difficult to look away (e.g. 26:30 in that Rhystic Studies video.) I have for a long time maintained that Elesh Norn is the hottest character in Magic, and that Kieryluk’s portrayal of her is the best art in Magic, and neither of these opinions are particularly surprising coming from me. What is surprising is just how many people also converge on Miss Multiverse’s-Most-Fuckable-Pyramid-Head as, not just a sex icon of Magic: the Gathering, but the sex icon.

Well, or is it? Giant anchor-shaped porcelain mask aside, her silhouette is more or less that of a painfully-thin woman; she stands fully twelve feet tall, and we remember how wild everyone went over Resident Evil: Village’s woman who was only three-quarters of that; and though not an artificial intelligence herself, it’s hard not to place her somewhere in the Cyberqueen lineage. Like SHODAN, like GladOS, like Cyberqueen, she exerts a near-omnipotent level of control over (part of) her world; like them, she is a megalomaniacal egotist (though she cloaks her egotism in piety); like them, she is happy to render you more useful to her via surgery, brainwashing, or deadly neurotoxin. Her mask obscures where her eyes would be, and if I’ve learned anything from a decade of playing or mostly watching other people play the various Dark Souls games, it’s that people go apeshit for character designs without visible eyes (see also: the xenomorph from Alien; I did a whole thing on this subject somewhere back in the Wifelink archive.) So you’ve got a 12′ nigh-omnipotent eyeless dominatrix mostly shaped like a skinny woman, which is maybe pushing a whole lot of buttons at once for a lot of people.

As a character, we don’t know much about her: at some point, she became undisputed leader of the Machine Orthodoxy, the cultiest bit of New Phyrexia. At a later point, she became the extremely-disputed leader of New Phyrexia as a whole. She likes long walks on the beach and multiversal Phyrexian dominion, you get it. There is, however, one good story featuring her, and it is “A Garden of Flesh” by Lora Gray (sorry to give you additional reading in a five-thousand-word essay.) The story is interesting because it is the rare story told from a Phyrexian point of view, and because it flies in the face of many of our assumptions about Phyrexian interiority. Phyrexians, we’re told, lack souls. They’re unfeeling, more machine than man. They most certainly don’t dream.

“A Garden of Flesh” is what happens when Ashiok, planeswalker architect of nightmares and an eyeless smokeshow in their own right, gets curious about whether they can induce nightmares in a Phyrexian mind. What follows is a curiously-effective piece of body & transformation horror, told from the point of view of what is supposed to be the awful endpoint of transformation horror. What does a perfect, powerful biomechanical creature fear? The organic, soft, spongy. Putrefaction. Decay. What does such a creature fear becoming? Human.

I didn’t devote a fifth of this essay to Elesh Norn just because she’s unbelievably hot (although dayenu), but because of this story, and how it complicates our thesis. The horror of transformation is traversible, yes, but what will you find on the other side? More transformation. More horror. And transformation is inevitable: who of us are who we expected to be? Who of us still hold dear the precious things of childhood? And even you few who are raising your hands right now, you too will experience transformation. Should you live long enough, you will find yourself changing. Your body and mind will grow rebellious, unreliable. You will grow old. You will decay.

And yet—it’s a matter of perspective, of where you weight your focus, isn’t it? There will always be more transformation and more horror, but there will always be a way through it. There will always be another shore upon the other side. You will change. You will become unrecognizable to who you were before. You will be fine.

Incompleat Bibliography & Further Reading/Viewing/Playing

Rhystic Studies, “Phyrexia is Hell”, 2023. H. P. Lovecraft, The Shadow over Innsmouth, 1931. Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House, 1959. Alex Garland, Annihilation, 2018. Harlan Ellison, “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream”, 1967. Ken Levine, System Shock 2, 1999. —never played it myself. Mostly I just open up a youtube video of SHODAN voice lines when I want to get belittled by an AI dominatrix. Valve, Portal 2, 2011. —there is a lot more to be said about GladOS and Elesh Norn specifically and their respective fraught relationships with the idea of their own humanity. Porpentine Charity Heartscape, Cyberqueen, 2012. —whence my chapter header screenshots. Seriously, this game fucks so hard. Franny Choi, Death by Sex Machine, 2017. —Choi is making extensive use of cyborg metaphor to address the specific experience of being a Korean-American woman. This is very different from anything I’m talking about, but it also always felt extremely relevant to me as a trans woman. Subaltern-to-subaltern communication. Lora Gray, “A Garden of Flesh,” 2022. —it’s no accident that the author of the one good story told from a Phyrexian POV is nonbinary. hbomberguy, “Outsiders: How To Adapt H.P. Lovecraft In the 21st Century”, 2018. Jacob Geller, “Who’s Afraid of Modern Art: Vandalism, Video Games, and Fascism”, 2019. Caitlín R Kiernan, The Drowning Girl: A Memoir, 2012. —only tangentially relevant, except insofar as it recontextualizes the Lewis Carroll line I open the essay with, and insofar as it is my favorite novel and I’m writing the bibliography. Debatable whether it counts as transformation horror, and I imagine the author would bridle at its being described as horror, but nevertheless: you should read this book.

#magic the gathering #phyrexia

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thelandboundseawitch · 5 months

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🐏Imbolc🐏

Imbolc, also known as Candlemas, or Brigid's Day, is a sabbat which celebrates the end of winter and the coming of spring. Groundhog's Day, a holiday celebrated in North America at this time, is very also celebrates the end of winter. The waking trees, softening and reviving Earth, and the return of the goddess. Imbolc starts on February 1st and lasts until sunset the next day.

Activities

Candle-making

Spring Cleaning

Create a Brigid Cross with straw

Plan your spring garden

Bake bread

Make potpourri

Make corn dollies

Make herbal tea

Take a hot bath

Making flower crowns or floral wreaths

Altar Decorations

White Candles

Brigid Cross

Corn Dollies

Flowers

Seeds and bulbs

Bread

Sheep and Lambs

Goddess Statues

Animals

Deer

Groundhog

Bear

Lamb

Ewe

Swan

Colors

White

Pale Green

Pale Pink

Pale Yellow

Lavender

Pale Brown

Crystals

Amethyst

Garnet

Onyx

Ruby

Turquoise

Bloodstone

Calcite

Moonstone

Deities

Bridgid

Gaia

Aphrodite

Venus

Hestia

Cupid

Eros

Flowers

Lavender

Chamomile

Daffodil

Crocus

Iris

Snowdrop

Food

Grains

Oats

Herbal Teas

Nuts

Bread

Potatoes

Seed

Honey

Milk

Cheese

White Meat

Raisins

Spice Cake

Incense and Oils

Frankincense

Jasmine

Myrrh

Rosemary

Basil

Wisteria

Vanilla

Lotus

Plants & Herbs

Angelica (Wild Celery)

Basil

Bay Laurel(Bay Leaf)

Rosemary

Cinnamon

Hay / Straw

Willow

Birch

Juniper

Spells and Rituals

Imbolc is the perfect time to cast spells, especially ones related to new beginnings, fertility, and the hearth. Spells regarding birth and rebirth are also seasonally appropriate due to many animals giving birth at this time of the year.

Final Notes

According to an old english folk tradition, if the weather is fine and clear on Candlemas, then cold and stormy weather will reign for the remaining weeks of winter. And bad weather at the beginning of February is a harbinger of a milder winter, and an early thaw.

There are different meanings for what Imbolc means, some say it means “In the belly” because of herding animals being pregnant. But historically Imbolc comes from the Gaelic word “Oimelc” which means “ewes milk”, because some animals have just given birth.

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 4 months

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𓅨 Eros: Chapter Two

Eros: Married to Dream of the Endless, you find yourself sent back in time to Ancient Greece where you, unfortunately, meet Oneiros. Fresh off a divorce and drowning the sorrows of his son’s death by indulging in the Panathenaia, you find yourself trapped beneath the lustful gaze of your future husband. In your defense, he seduced you first…

Warnings: Language, Taunting.

To Note: Morpheus x Wife!Reader, Time Travel, Oneiros is used for AncientGreek!Morpheus.

Word Count: ~2.8k

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By dinner that night you had nearly drowned yourself in turbulent thoughts and discomfort. Your friends were gossiping while lounging at a table, they were gushing about all the men and woman that had arrived through out the day. Apparently in the celebrations, orgies were a common occurrence among the aristocrats and it was always a guessing game of who would be getting with who, or more importantly, who would get the golden invitations to the orgies with the most powerful people of Athens. You didn’t mind the open sexuality of Athens, it was actually a freeing thought… but you’d spent the afternoon and night in a state of hurt with a very agonized heart.

Why did it pain you so much to see Oneiros in pain? It was clear that he was hurting. Hurting and drowning himself in wine and debauchery to take his mind and being off the fact that his son had died and he’d gone through a divorce. You hated seeing him like that. You hated it so much. But you were well aware that Morpheus had gone through this phase in his life. He’d gruelingly explained it to you on a rainy afternoon after you had pestered him about his past relationships. He was your husband and you loved him so much, yet you still knew very little about his past.

He hadn’t wanted to tell you anything. Hadn’t wanted you to know about his failings in martial relations and love period. But the Endless loved you with every grain of sand he possessed and had explained the sorrows and troubles he’d gone through… minus the time proceeding his divorce. Watching the debauchery unfold in front of you, you fully understand why he hadn’t uttered a peep about his greek era. The greeks certainly knew their way around bodily delights.

“Elpis?” You blinked and glanced at Merope, she and the other girls were looking at you with concerned looks. They had noticed a change in you since earlier, had barely touched food or drink and spent an awful lot of time sitting with a faraway look within your eyes. “You’ve been rather demure since luncheon, is all well?” It wasn’t like you could just unload all your troubles on the three women, no matter how much you wanted to.

“Just a headache,” You informed her before unfolding yourself from your curled position and rising to your feet. You brushed out nonexistent wrinkles from the skirt of your dress. “I think I need some fresh air and to cool down.” Your fingers tugged at your clothes, undoing several pins that kept fabric folded against your body in a decorative way. The silken fabric loosened and draped until it was just barely held together on your body. Now you didn’t feel so smothered. “I’ll be out for a walk, don’t let me keep you up waiting.”

It was clear that they weren’t convinced by your words as you strode past them with your peplum fluttering behind you. It was a hot night in Athens, but the breeze from the Aegean Sea cooled you down as you took a garden path that led straight to the beautiful water. Standing at the waters edge, you crouched down and brushed your fingers through the slightly warm water. This wouldn’t last forever, surely, your Morpheus was probably ripping through realms and universes trying to find you… you just had to deal with his past self until you went home.

Which you didn’t know when that would happen.

And you didn’t like the idea of leaving this Morpheus in pain.

But could you actually do anything about that?

You didn’t exactly have a handbook on what to do when you time traveled.

Destiny will be up your ass if you screwed this up…

Then again maybe this was supposed to happen?

You growled and dropped your face into your hand with a more than exaggerated groan. You didn’t sign up for this time travel bull shit when you married Morpheus! All you had to be, according to Morpheus and just about everyone else in the realm, was his wife. Of course you wanted to be active in the realm and help out the denizens, dreams, and nightmares as their queen, but no one held you to duty.Just as you sighed and dragged your fingers down your face, pulling your eyelids as you went, you felt a tingle in your being and a shiver run up your spine. You rose to your feet and turned around.

Ah.

High above on one of the balconies overseeing the Aegean Sea, lounged Oneiros in all his glory. His tunic was half on his body, revealing a great expanse of his star sculpted physique. His hair was ruffled since you had last seen him. Right. Lucienne reluctantly mentioned that Morpheus had a few hoe eras. This was one of them. Even though he wasn’t your Morpheus, you could still feel his inherent desire and lust. It was certainly directed at you since you had met eyes with him. That both scared and excited you.

“Elpis?” Kynna’s sweet voice broke your stare down with Oneiros. Jarred from holding the lustful gaze of Oneiros, you blinked rapidly. “What are you doing outside all alone? Did you have a bad dream?”

“Kynna!” You softly exclaimed, striding up to the girl and plucking her from the ground. What on earth was she doing out of be? There were half naked adults everywhere! “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“You’re not in bed,” The little girl pointed out like it would make a difference, making your eyebrow pop up. The utter cheek!

“That’s because I was out for a walk, come little one, back to bed, you have a great many activities to do tomorrow.” Continuing to carry Kynna, you entered the large stone building and walked towards her families wing. Your heart throbbed in your chest the entire way to her room.

You sat in your seat stiff as a bored. It was another extravagant luncheon hosted by one of the noble families. You hadn’t wanted to accept the invitation, you weren’t versed in the politics of Athens and certainly didn’t know anyone other than your three knew friends. The only plus side to attending was the delicious food served. You’d spent a lot of time snacking on olives while partaking in wine, and it was nice to eat a proper grecian meal.

Under normal circumstances, the men would eat separately from the woman, but since it was Panathenaia, an exception was made so everyone could mingle and celebrate in shared fashion. As uncomfortable as you were with the flirting and innuendos, you did find yourself laughing at a few crude jokes and well entertained by the conversations you found yourself drawn into.

The men and woman of Ancient Greece were beautiful, impossibly so, but they were also so easy to get along with and forget that you didn’t even belong in this era! Several times you found yourself falling into a place of comfort you should not entertain! So every time a conversation got a little too intimate you pulled back. But that being said, you carried small talk and day to day conversation quite well.

At least until a certain someone arrived.

Your attention was drawn to Oneiros like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t help it. Not when he was the love of your life and the very being you promised to spend the rest of eternity together. Not when you had allowed the anthropomorphic being to place a physical part of his Endless being within your own so that you may spend every moment he had left in time with him.

But he wasn’t yours. At least not yet. That didn’t stop the smoldering looks he sent your way and it certainly didn’t stop the fire that burned deep in your belly until you squirmed in your seat. Gods damn that being for being your kryptonite! Wanting payback for what he was causing you, you began eating grapes. One by one. Allowing your fingers to linger on your lips while you held his gaze.

It was a rather torturous sight to see.

The purple peplum you had on, held in place by golden pins and a decorative belt that wrapped around your waist. The fabric was just as light as all the other peplums you’d ben dressed in, but at the moment you felt like it weighed a tonne. Feeling suffocated by your feelings, the heavy gaze of Oneiros that seemed to follow you everywhere, and the general sultry atmosphere that enveloped the commons, you had slipped to the gardens for an afternoon stroll. Even with the fresh air you were still struggling to control your emotions.

“I just want to go home,” You softly murmured to yourself, allowing your hand to brush over several hibiscus flowers. “But I can’t even have that. No, someone just wants to fuck with me and my heart by forcing me to live through one of my husbands darkest times.” Sighing, you continued running your fingers over flowers and leaves. Lifting your eyes to the skies, you willed time to go by faster, wishing for the relieving darkness that harkened a sleep that blocked out the visceral agony you felt.

Before you had married Morpheus, you used to be so excited about falling asleep at night. You practically lived two lives, one on earth during the day, and second, more meaningful one in the Dreaming at night. You knew almost all of the denizens of the Dreaming before you had become romantically involved with Morpheus, so your nights had literally been a second life. But then the Endless had finally decided to make his intentions clear with you.

You had been swept off your feet by a blanket of stars Morpheus had weaved himself and courted like a spoiled regency debutant. It had been so extravagant that you had nearly told Morpheus that he only needed to get you flowers and talk to you regularly… but you had quickly found that bestowing you with gifts and words of affection were his love language. He wanted to shower you with gifts. He wanted to bespoke words of adoration to you. You were his universe. He was the being you never knew you needed. Together you felt complete.

Sniffing while your eyes burned, you hastily wiped at your eyes and nose lest you start balling in the middle of the garden and cause an upset. Why were you doing this to yourself? You knew you were playing with fire. Finding yourself and stopping the threatening onslaught of burning hit tears, you cleared your throat and looked up at the flowering pink shrub you found yourself in front of.

Oleander.

Smelling the fragrant blooms, you reached up to take one of the pretty blooms. It was just out of reach, but if you stretched on your tippy toes, you could probably reach it. So you stretched upwards, pressing close to the plant. Your fingers brushed the soft petal, but you couldn’t get a good grasp that wouldn’t tear the delicate bloom apart. In your struggle, you hadn’t noticed his approach and jerked in place when fabric bushed against your back as a pale hand reached over your head and effortlessly plucked the bloom for you.

Freezing in place as your breath caught in your chest, you clutched your hands to your chest. It wasn’t like you could ignore him now. Slowly turning your head, your eye met vibrant blue and you had to force yourself to stay still. Gods all you wanted to do was wrap your arms around his body and never let go! Oneiros twirled the bloom between his lithe fingers, all the while maintaining his intense gaze with yours.

You fascinated him, hypnotized him with your eyes, demanded his heart and passion with but a glance. Yet you never drew close enough to indulge. It was maddening, for Oneiros wanted no other but you. You’d drown out the sharp sting of loss he felt. He was sure of it. But something kept pulling you away the moment he was sure you’d finally break. The Endless offered the plucked flower to you, waiting for you to either accept or refuse it. Given your rather flighty disposition, he half expected you to flee the garden.

But you didn’t.

No. Oneiros was surprised when one of your slightly trembling hands reached to accept the flower. Your eyes were trained on the bloom, and you made sure not to touch him… but your silence spoke a million things.

It was getting harder and harder to avoid interacting with Oneiros. You didn’t know if it was because you naturally gravitated towards him, or if it was because he clearly wanted you. Nothing you did rid you of the pain you felt from him. So you had gone to the baths to try and soak out the stress you felt. It was nearing midnight, so most of the nobles were either indulging in bodily delights, drinking, or sleeping off the alcohol. That meant you could enjoy the public bath house in privacy.

So you slowly made your way into the steamy room and carefully unwound the belt around your waist. Then your fingers plucked the pins from your shoulders and you carefully folded the silk cloth that hung around your body. The steaming water looked inviting as you stepped down into one of the pools, and you sighed at the nostalgia that filled your mind. The bath house pools were much like the large bath you had in the Dreaming, and made memories of relaxing in it cradled within Morpheus’ arms as he told you stories of past dreams, surface within your mind.

You wanted to go home so bad.

“Are tonights revelries not to your appetite?” You jerked in place at the sound of his voice, your head snapping around to see Oneiros lounging in a corner of the bath. Shit. Shit. Shit. It took everything you had not to stare at his naked body leisurely sprawled across the sitting ledge without care. His black messy curls made your fingers twitch for they ached to run through them. Oh, it wasn’t just those curls either, you wanted run your fingers along his skin, trace his muscles, adore the curves and planes upon his otherworldly body, kiss him until you were forced to take a breath… It took you a solid minute to find the courage to reply.

“I do not usually partake in such festivities, my lord,” You replied, a slight tremble in your words. A black eyebrow arched and you forced your gaze to the carved statues of spites mounted at the end of the room. “I am more reserved with my affections.”

“But not entirely opposed as your skin paints a different story,” Oneiros pointed out, his eyes lingering on the faded marks of someones apparent love. Oh yes, someone had the pleasure of indulging in your body. Someone worshipped you greatly and with complete devotion. The marks were subtle, but intentional. Territorial even. The Endless watched as you flushed beneath his scrutiny, and took great enjoyment in knowing that he did have an effect on you. “Who would leave a creature as lovely and delicate as you, by yourself during such festivities?”

“He’s away on business and I do not seek to control him,” You told him, carefully unfolding yourself from your tight ball. Instantly the Endless was drinking in the view of your gorgeous curves and faintly loved skin. He wanted to devour you. You wanted him to stop hurting. So you rose to your feet in the water and slowly sloshed over to him. “Why are you here, my lord?”

Clearly he didn’t expect you to ask him such a question, but nonetheless he humored you after taking a sip of his wine and eyeing your goddess like body. Soft and begging for worship. One he would surely get lost in should the chance arise.

“I am enjoying the festivities, the same as you,” You nearly snorted and rolled your eyes. He may not be your Morpheus, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t pick up when he was lying. You lifted your chin.

“No, you are not,” Now that was a bold statement to say directly to his face, and you could see his eyes darken.

“You dare think to know my intentions better than I?” He questioned back, eyes searching yours to see how far you would push his patience. Your lips were distracting, after your grape stunt he had wanted nothing but to devour them to see if they were indeed as soft and inviting as they looked… as was the rest of your glorious body. Tender curves begging to be caressed, clear skin aching be marked once more, lips that called to be tamed…

“I know enough to wonder why you are here, rather than with the men and women desperately throwing themselves at you.” You informed him before turning to the side and moving back towards your folded dress. You left the bathhouse and a ravenous Endless behind, your heart beating fast in your chest.

Date Published: 1/22/24

Last Edit: 1/22/24

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#dream of the endless x reader #morpheus #lord morpheus #dream the endless #sandman x reader #dream the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman #dream of the endless #the sandman netflix

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esoteric-chaos · 4 months

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Imbolc - Spoonie Witch Friendly

Imbolc is usually celebrated between February 1st & 2nd, in the Northern Hemisphere (In Southern hemisphere around August 1).

Imbolc is a fire festival celebrating the home, hearth, and the halfway point between Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox.

Is is the celebration of the return of the light and sun. A great time to honour the coldest days and the arrival of spring.

Imbolc Correspondences

Colours

White

Gold

Silver

Pastel Colors

Herbal

Rosemary

Basil

Bay leaves

Cinnamon

Myrrh

Hay

Chamomile

Angelica

Lavender

Daffodil

Blackberry

Willow

Edibles

Blackberry

Root vegetables

Dried fruits

Stews

Mead

Fermented foods

Grains

Dairy (specifically ewe's milk)

Cider

Herbal tea

Canned foods

Oats

Animals

Deer

Cow

Sheep

Lark

Swan

Bear

Wolves

Groundhog

All burrowing and hibernating animals

Crystals

Gold

Silver

Brass

Amethyst

Moonstone

Garnet

Ruby

Symbols

Candle flame

Seeds

Besom/broom

Brigid’s cross

Serpent

Sheep (due to Imbolc’s association with ewe’s milk)

White flowers

Snowflakes

Flowing water and springs

Sunwheel

Star

Evergreens

Spiritual meanings

Creativity

Awakenings

Introspection

Fresh beginnings

Perseverance

Patience

Renewal

Revision

Healing

Frugality

Self-care

Youth

Scents

Cinnamon

Rosemary

Basil

Cedar

Mint

Gods / Goddesses / Spirits

Brigid (Celtic)

Aphrodite (Greek)

Bast (Egyptian)

Ceres (Roman)

Cerridwen (Celtic)

Gaia

Hestia (Greek)

Vesta (Roman)

Venus (Roman)

Athena (Greek)

Demeter (Greek)

Persephone (Greek)

Aenghus Og (Irish)

Eros (Greek)

Faunus (Roman)

Pan (Greek)

Cernunnos (Celtic)

Osiris (Egyptian)

Asmodeus (Demon, personal UPG)

Need some suggestions to celebrate? I got you covered.

High energy celebrations and ritual

Astral projection/travel

Divinations

Cord cuttings

Create a Brigid’s Cross

Gardening (best time to start to plant seeds)

Make resolution(s) and goal(s) for the year ahead (I'll fight to the DEATH about my personal opinion that this is a better time for resolutions than New Years itself. Best time for renewal and goal setting)

Ritual to say farewell to winter

Make bread

Spring clean! It’s the best time for it

Low energy celebrations

Starting a manifestation journal

Burning a bay leaf with manifestation on it

Planning in your planner

Lighting a candle in honour

Make a cup of tea

Practice self care

No spoon celebrations

Prayer

Putting on sun lamp

Greet the sun at sunrise

Rest

How you celebrate the holiday does not matter. You can choose to do any activity that feels right. These are only suggestions and remember that you're enough no matter what.

Also please note some stuff is UPG. A great book is Year of the Witch by Temperance Alden for honouring the celebrations and if you wanted to work more seasonally. It's not wiccan based and has plenty of resources for every witch.

#wheel of the year #spoonie magic #chronic illness #witchcraft #witch #witchblr #imbolc #imbolc masterpost #imbolc magic #imbolc correspondences #spoonie

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unboundprompts · 11 months

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Prompts Inspired by Songs about Greek Mythology

-> writing prompts from the lyrics of songs about Greek Mythology. feel free to edit as you see fit.

"It's got nothing to do with fate and everything to do with you." - Sisyphus by Andrew Bird

"Redemption lies plainly in truth." - Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths

"You have come to love what you will always fear." - Persephone by Tamino

"I will follow you down even through the gates of hell." - Orpheus by Shawn James

"In the end, all I hope for is to be a bit of warmth for you." - Boreas by The Oh Hellos

"Look out to the future, but it tells you nothing." - Icarus by Bastille

"I get what I want, one way or the other." - Pomegranate Seeds by Julian Moon

"I remember when you told me you were afraid to die." - Icarus & Apollo by Ripto

"As the clouds slowly gather in the night, I hear nothing but the sound of broken cries." - Dionysus by Tomo

"I'm really sorry, but I will win unintentionally." - Eros by Young the Giant

"I don't mind when you play with my head." - Greek God by Conan Gray

"I want to fall in love again. Not in love with a man of this world, but fall in love with life itself." - Aphrodite by Honey Gentry

"Nothing is simple just because you wish that it is." - Ambrosia by Rosie Tucker

"I got your folded piece of paper and the few words that were laid there." - Persephone by The Tragic Thrills

"Time — she moved so slow— that she taxed my feeble mind. And I waited, impatient, for something to come around." - Persephone in the Garden by Aiudoneus

"We'll be the envy of the gods above." - The Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience

"Loving you is my Achilles' Heel." - Achilles Heel by J. Maya

"Do not grow complacent and take less than what you deserve." - Atlas Drowned by Gang of Youths

"I will never be the same because of the way you made my whole life change." - Artemis by Stephen Rezza

"We keep fixing what we know is only bound to break." - Theseus by The Oh Hellos

"You think you're in gold but I can see the dirt in your lines." - Alrighty Aphrodite by Peach Pit

"Stars are dying in the sky." - Medusa by Kailee Morgue

"Promise me that you'll start where I end, and I promise to give you everything that I am." - Boreas by The Oh Hellos

#writing prompts #prompts inspired by lyrics #dialogue prompt #writing dialogue #greek mythology #greek myth #ancient greek mythology #writing ideas #story ideas #prompt list

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stalkerofthegods · 7 months

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Aphrodite And Venus deep dive, straight to the point

Herbs • anemone, daffodil, myrtle, lettuce , pomegranate, apple, rosemary fresh roses, vanilla, cinnamon, cypress, jasmine, the olive tree, narcissus, honeysuckle, the apple tree, the lime tree, Strawberries, Oranges, Pears, lotus

Animals• hare, turtle-dove, sparrow, goose, swan, horses, hummingbirds, cats, butterflies, bees, fish, hare.

Symbols• Hearts, Seashells, Mirror, Girdles, Dolphins, Doves, Swans, Sparrows, Bees, Sea Foam, Pomegranates, Apples, Strawberries, Oranges, Pears

Colors • pink & red, rose gold , blue, green, white, gold, baby blue, pastel colors, Seafoam green, Aqua

Appearance in astral or general • many ancient artworks of her, depicted her with traditionally male features, like beards, along with traditionally female features, she can change looks many times, but no matter her looks she is the most beautiful alive.

Crystal• rose quarts, garnet, pearls, diamond, sapphire, aquamarine, opal, sea glass, silver, emerald, rhodonite, rhodochrosite, ocean jasper, morganite

Jewelry • pearls, rose gold, promise rings, diamonds

epithets of Aphrodite• Psytiros - whispering Aphrodite, epithet also is attributed to Eros, Euploia - a marine epithet to Aphrodite of easy sailing, fair voyage, Leaina -the Lioness, an epithet given to the Goddess by Athenian orator Democha, Praxis - Aphrodite of action, a statue to whom stood in the city of Megara, Peitho - as an epithet to Aphrodite, it describes Her a persuasive, Epiodoros - Aphrodite of bountiful gifts as She was titled by Greek poet Stesichoru, Argounis - shining Aphrodite, worshiped in Boeotia and likely associated with Dawn, Philomedes - Aphrodite of a lovely smile or smiling Aphrodite, Helikoblepharos - quick-glancing, or Aphrodite with an ever-moving eye, Polychrisou - rich in gold, rich in many golden gifts, Chrisopeplos - gold-clad, Aphrodite dressed in gold, Chrisostephanos - Aphrodite wearing a golden wreath, Chrisanios - Aphrodite holding golden rein as Her chariot was often said to be fully made of gold, Nikêphoros- She is the Warlike, Areia- She is the averter of unlawful desires and actions, Apostrophia- She is one who blessed marriage and unions, Migôntis- She is the one who turns to love, Ourania- Heavenly, Divine Love, Pandêmos- Common To All, Epistrophia - She who Turns to Love, Nympthia Hêrê - Of Hera of Marriage, Symmakhia- Ally in Love, Pontia - Of the Sea, Kypria - Of Cyprus, Pothon Mater - Mother of Desire, Chrysea- Golden, Aphrodite Urania (also spelt Ourania), Aphrodite Pandemos, Venus Genatrix, Peitho, - meaning persuasion, Philommeidḗs - "smile-loving", Cypris and Cythereia - for her association of Cyprus and Cythera, Eleemon, In Athens, she was known as Aphrodite in kopois ("Aphrodite of the Gardens”, At Cape Clias, a town along the Attic coast, she was venerated as Genetyllis "Mother", Aphrodite Euploia - of the fair voyage, Anaduomenê - The Goddess Who Arose From The Sea, Ambologêra - The Ons Who Delays Old Age, Antheia - The Blooming One / Friend Of Flowers , Apotrophia - The Expeller ( Of Shameful and Sinful Desire), Areia - The Warlike, Kupria/Kuprigeneia - The One Born in The Island Of Cyprus, Despoina - The Rulling Goddess/ The Mistress , Genetullis - The Protectress Of Births , Nikêphoros - Bringer Of Victory

Cult epithets • Ourania (heavenly) , Pandémos (common to all) , areia (of ares, warlike) , hòplismené (armed) , Symmakhia (ally in love)

Poetic epithets • Kypris ( of Cyprus) , philomeidês (laughter loving) , aphrogenia (foam born) khryseé (golden) Pothón Mêtêr (mother of desire)

Names• Venus, Aphrodite, Harthor, Astare, Priyah, inanna, isis, Freaya,

Mortal or immortal • immortal

Zodiac • Libra, taruas

How to get closer • sign her hymms or dance in her honor

Number• 5

Courting• Ares, she is no longer married.

Past lovers and flings • Anchises (a mortal in the past she dated), Adonis ( handsome young man killed by a boar (Ares in disguise), Dionysus, Zues (maybe), Hermes, Phaethon, Posideon, Butes, Apollon

Devine children • Phobos, Deimos, Harmonia, Eros, Anteros, pothos, hermaphrodios, (From the mortal Anchuses), Aeneas a mythical hero of Troy and Rome, and Lyrus/Lyrnus (From Butes), eryxs, Meligounis and several more unnamed daughters, Hymenajks, lacchus, priapus, the Charites, (graces: Aglaea, Euphrosyne, Thalia) (From Dionysus) Phobos, Deimos, Harmonia, The Erotes (Eros) , Anteros, Himeros , Pothos, from Ares, Hermaphroditos, Priapus, from Hermes, Rhodos from Posideon, Beroe, Golgos, Priapus (rarely) (from Adonis), Astynous from Phaethon, Priapus (from Zeus)

Attendees • The erotes, Harmonia, Hebe, peithos, the kharites , Naiades

Regions• Cyprus; Kytherea, Corinth, Eryx in Sicly

Holiest shrine• Paphos, island of Cyprus, (her birth place & seat of her mysteria)

Other shrines • Temples throughout Greece and Asia Minor and ur moms house. Some places, most notably Sparta, Thebes, and Cyprus honored her as a goddess of war.

Parents • Ouranos Sometimes it’s said that she is the daughter of Zeus and Dione. And born from the severed genitals of the primordial god Ouranos.

Siblings • Aeacus, Angelos, Apollo, Ares, Artemis, Athena, Dionysus, Eileithyia, Enyo, Eris, Ersa, Hebe, Helen of Troy, Hephaestus, Heracles, Hermes, Minos, Pandia, Persephone, Perseus, Rhadamanthus, the Graces, the Horae, the Litae, the Muses and the Moirai.

personality• she isn’t intimidating at first, she likes not having already used products on her alter if possible, a clean, nice smelling alter.

dislikes• She does not like Medusa, she wants nothing to do with her for some reason, just what I’ve heard from people who worshiped Aphrodite and Medusa in close timelines

Diety of • Sex, libido, self-image, self-love, relationships, friendships, parent love and pet love, crushes, lust, procreation, seduction, pleasure, happiness, sadness, passion, stalking, ports, port homes

Home• Olympus and was living in the sea before Olympus

Hate• Boars, pigs.

Likes• Faries, unicorns, butterflies, lacy & frilly things, music boxes, ballet, cars.

Roots• Greek, born near Paphos, on the island of Cyprus

Offerings • pastries, cakes, , olive branches, dark chocolate, wine, apples, perfume, makeup, Pomegranate: said to be first planted by Aphrodite herself, Strawberries, Raspberries, Blackberries, Figs, Watermelon, Sea shells, handheld mirrors/ beautifully ornate mirrors, makeup products, perfumes (sweet/sensual/seductive ones), skin/body care products, fruits, apples, lettuce, pomegranates, chocolates, sugar and cream, honey, wine (rosé or sweet-scented), sweetened rose tea, rose quartz, pearls, jewelry, roses, flower bouquets, statues of her sacred animals (ex- swans) , myrtle or myrrh incense, pink/gold/white candles, seawater, the artwork of her, devotional poems, self-care routines, ritual baths, have a rose garden that you can take care of in her name if possible, be supportive of women and the LGBTQ+ community. • olive oil, fruit, honey, chocolate, dark chocolate (she loves it) , Apples/golden apples, Mermaids, Jewelry, Cherries, Dolphins imagery, Perfumes, Cologne, Makeup, Combs, Affirmations/Affirmation Cards, Beach Sand, Sea imagery, Water, Love poems, Oyster shells, Pink Salt, Driftwood, Sea glass, Amenome/Roses/Carnations, Other flowers, Valentine's Day gifts, Teddy bears, Rose water, Eros/Cupid imagery, Cakes, (Dress up) Dolls, Chapstick/lipstick, Fishnets, Honey cakes, Undergarments, Hearts, Handheld fans, Pictures of loved ones, Condoms/lube(18+), Lingerie(18+), Undergarments(18+), Sex toys(18+), NSFW magazines/books/movie(18+) (AND I MEAN IT WHEN I SAY 18+, OR ASK HER!!), roses, Myrtles, Apples, Pomegranates, Honey, Chocolates, Cookies or cakes made to look like one of Her symbols (ex- hearts), Strawberries, Oranges, Pears, Bath Salts, Bath oils, Bubble bath soap, Scented lotions or fancy soaps

Devotional• light your favorite candle, put on your favorite lotion or perfume, put on your favorite piece of jewelry, put on your favorite article of clothing, enjoy a sweet treat, Sex magic, Glamour spells, Dressing up, acts of self care and acts of self- love, Caring for mental & physical health, Take a bubble bath,Spend time at the sea, Collect sea shells, Read Sappho poetry, Donate to LBGTQ+, Support sex workers, Have safe sex and learn about it, Stand up for yourself and what you believe in, Donate to woman programs and shelters, Do stuff to make ur self feel empowered and beautiful, Honor her kids and ares, watch a romcom, watch a regular romantic movie or show or read your favorite romantic story, Make plans with loved ones and friends or your lover in her honor, Treat yourself to something you enjoy, if you have a pet and they like to snuggle, snuggle or lay with them. Talk to them and tell them how much you love them (If able take them for a walk or a ride), listen to ocean/sea soundscapes, read up on all the many kinds of love, engage in an act of self-care, listen to love songs, listen to a devotional playlist for her, make a Pinterest board or playlist, or journal all of your favorite things and things that you love, learn about the different kinds of love, do things that boost your self esteem, be gentle with yourself, take it easy, etc, watch a ballet, read love poems, Dress up and selfies, Keep menstrual products on you (even if you don't bleed), Advocate for pro-choice, Give/accept compliments, Advocate for SA victims, Go on a date, Take yourself on a date, Do something nice for your partner, get a Manicure/pedicure, Flirt, Affirmations in the mirror, Drink wine, Advocate for proper sex ed (Including queer sex ed), Experiment with your style, Mirror scrying, Listen to sleep affirmations, Love letter to self/her/partner, Take a bath/shower,Go to the ocean/water, Finally give into that one kink (You know the one, 18+), do Masturbation in her honor (only 18+, I heard she’s not comfortable with minors doing it, but that’s between y’all, just ask her beforehand.), Practice safe sex (18+), Educate yourself on the porn industry, Support sex workers (TIP THEM, 18+), Have sex (18+), Get educated on consent/safe sex, Take nude/lewds (18+)

Holiday • on March 18, goddess of fertility day

Season• spring

Status• Olympian, major goddess

Music • Harry styles, Classical music, old love songs (50s & 60s)

Day• Friday

Planet• Venus

Tarot• High priestess, the lovers, the empress, the star

Rituals • honored and invoked for love and fertility and beauty

Festivals • Aphrodisa, kinyrades ( summer festival) adonia ( mourning for Adonis, woman only)

Fact• She was most worshiped during times of politics, Many people offered her Opiates, or did Opiates in her honor. opium-burners were often found at her shrines in ancient times, please do not do opium.

Prayer•

1• sing, sing, oh i sing to aphrodite who is most beautiful! she who stirs the passionof men & god alike! o, to she — i sing! golden goddess with soft lashes, golden goddess withsoft arms, i spin and sing and delight in the bright rose that is you. may i dance with your grace, lifted up as the foam from the sea as you were — may my smile be blessed with delight. golden-haired goddess, bless my tongue to be sweet as honey, bless my fingers to be delicate and swift, bless my steps so they may bound forth in soft beauty. glory to she — praise to she! goddess of ever golden smiles, of fierce beauty, of spilling laughter and delight. o! may i love as you love — may i delight as you delight! goddess, fill me with your beauty — may i shine & rise above the wrathful waters of those around me and delight, delight, delight in the glory that you have given to me!

2•Golden Aphrodite

Lady of beauty and grace, Please give me the power to appreciate my body, Grant me confidence in my masculinity, Help me to feel your love within myself, and to express it outwardly as well, Lady Aphrodite, please hear my prayer, I sing your praises and offer you this incense

3•Aphrodite, guide me towards love. Help me discover it, receive it, embrace it, give it, celebrate it, honor it, teach it, and live it. Let love be the mark I leave, as your devotee, as a human being.

4• Antheia

Hear to me my call for spring to have sprung,Oh, sweet one scented of honey and nectar. Hear my call Aphrodite Antheia,As I harken a need for the sweet bloom. I crave the beauty of the opening flower, The sweet taste of its nectar upon my lips. Ah Aphrodite Antheia, Bring to me the joy of the fresh blooms. Let the petals cascade upon my body, Allow me the joy of the sunshine. Oh sweet one, Oh Aphrodite Antheia. Bestow upon me and mine, The gifts of the flowers fair.

5•daughter of seafoam, goddess of beauty, aphrodite please hear my cries. please listen as i describe all the parts of me that are shattered & torn, please understand as i tell my stories of pain. aphrodite accept me please. aphrodite pick me up & help me mend myself for i am yours, thank you so much & so mote it be

6• Aphrodite rivals the beauty of the sun setting over an ocean's horizon as you stand on the shore, the water tickling your feet as it pulled in and pushed back out repeatedly by the waves.

Scents/Inscene • Rose, wine, fresh roses, Frankincesne, Myrrth, vanilla, cinnamon, cypress, jasmine, cherry blossom, lavender.

Other• images of things she’s associated with, jewelry, perfume, bath salts , scented lotion, seawater, seashells, sand, makeup, feathers, self care essentials.

Links/websites/sources

@khaire-traveler

ephemeral-cryptid.tumblr.com

@mars-and-the-theoi graffitiphilosopher.tumblr.com teawiththegods.tumblr.com

@seleniangnosis

@melitheoidevotion

@seafoamsister

evilios.tumblr.com hearthcreation.tumblr.com orsialos.tumblr.com

@hisfluer

Aphrodite is the goddess of our hearts, we all love her, and she has a great personality, and is beautiful in looks and soul.

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