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call-me-strega · 3 months

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Dc x Dp prompt #13: Hell to Pay

They say there are only two things certain in life: death and taxes. That’s why even the Joker doesn’t fuck with the IRS.

However, unfortunately for the Joker the other certainty is death and he has yet to pay his dues. Just like how he could only get away with tax evasion for so long, there are only so many times the Joker can dodge death.

Death is coming to collect, with interest.

And the Joker will have hell to pay.

~ A dark green cloud swirls over the city. From it, emerge three oppressive figures:

The one on the far left with flowing hair like white-hot fire. His vambraces made of (what appeared to be) molten glass stopped under his fingers, which then extend into into claws that seemed to drip lava. He had spiked obsidian pauldrons on his shoulders, fastening a luminous, stark-white cape to his shoulders. He wore a coronet of lightning and wielded a flail that appeared to be made of coal chains and a shrunken Red Giant star.

The second on the far right had a helm of dark iron wreathed in a plume of purple flame. His gauntlets and sword flamed with green hellfire. A pure black sheath seemingly made of void and a silver hunting horn were tied to his waist. He wore an armor forged of shadows and proofed with fear. He rode atop a mighty stead. An inky dark stallion with a curved horn and bat-like wings. His form was constantly slightly shifting depending on the angle which you viewed him making him appear larger and more slippery than he was, enhancing his disquieting nature.

The third stood in the middle, smaller but no less terrifying than her companions. Her hair was wild with movement, only just visible because it appeared as if someone had bound the winds to her head. She wore a tiara made of storm clouds and pearls. She carried with her a spear, the shaft crafted of amazonite and the tip of a clear quartz, almost reminiscent of sea salt. At her hip lay a whip made of a restrained gale and a sea glass knife. She wore armor that appeared to be Greco-Roman in origin: a chest plate made of some sort of coral-like material and a battle skirt decorated with metallic bronze feathers.

They slowly descent on the city, bringing down a sense of power and dread. They paused at the top of Wayne Tower, where the city's vigilantes had all gathered in an attempt to create and feasible plan of action to discern what these beings want. The young woman in the middle speaks and the wind carries her voice. She is not loud but it the whole of Gotham hears her words.

"Greetings, Heroes of Gotham. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Spirit, Princess and Head Diplomat of the Infinite Realms. This is Samhain, the Fright Knight, loyal knight to the king,” she gestured to her right before switching to her left “and this is Prince Wraith, current General in Chief of the Realms. We come to you as the King’s Guard and entourage. We have official business in your city and wish to civilly notify you of our presence. The King will be arriving shortly and your cooperation would be great fully received.”

Batman moved forward to shake her hand and address the situation.

“I’m afraid that we prefer not to have unknowns operating within the city. Would you be able to tell us what business you have here? Perhaps we could reach an agreement?” Batman tried to negotiate as politely as he could. He did not want to risk offending the evidently powerful beings.

Princess Spirit’s smile sharpened as she thrummed her finger against her knife. She spoke again with an unnervingly pleasant tone.

“It appears you do not understand. We are not asking for your permission.” Her grip around his hand tightened. “ We are informing you.” She finished releasing his hand.

Batman withdrew his aching hand and regarded her with the beginnings of a protest on his lips. She didn’t allow him to speak.

“ This is out of your jurisdiction Batman. This is a matter of the Realms and the Afterlife. Whatever worldly rules or morals you wish to impose on those who enter this city do not apply to us. We will do our best to work within them, so as to appease you and to attempt to maintain a friendly relationship but in the macrocosm of the multiverse and afterlives you have no official power over us. Additionally, we have direct permission to operate here however we see fit from the City Spirit herself, Lady Gotham.”

Batman’s shadow seemed to fluctuated. His and his team's shadows moved from beneath them, closer to the Princess. Lady Gotham, though not manifesting, was making her presence and approval known. Batman could not deny what he was seeing. His team shifted uncomfortably behind him. He appealed to her once more.

“ I see that we can’t stop you. We don’t want to get in your way either. Could you at least tell us why you are here?”

She smiled as if telling a joke, “All will be revealed in time”

Suddenly, there was a loud noise that sounded like tearing fabric. The green clouds mixed with purples and blues and began to churn faster. The cyclone emitted a flashes of bright light. In unison all three of the King’s Guard lifted up from the roof and took place underneath the eye of the wind storm.

Spirit holds her spear aloft. With one swift, commanding move she slams the butt of her spear down, creating a platform out of solidified air.

Wraith bellows out smoke and ash onto the platform to discolor it. With ferocious and precise movements his claws to carve in a sigil, leaving a soft orange glow against the black and gray.

Samhain sheathes his sword and pulls his horn from his waist. He wills his dark stead to rear up as he blows the horn, letting out one loud prolonged cry.

The three warriors stand at attention and Princess Spirit calls the winds to project her voice once more.

“ Now introducing the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, High King of the In-Between, The Great One, The Benevolent King, The Peace Maker, The Guardian of Souls, The One with the Cloak of Stars and the Crown of Frozen Light, The Perfect Balance, Ancient of Space and Reality, The Infinite King: Phantom!”

With a flash of white light a figure appear in the center of the platform. Simultaneously, the three knights bow in reverence.

The King has arrived.

As the Heroes of Gotham regain clear vision they are met with a striking figure.

There stood a toned young man appearing both boyishly young, yet wisened and weathered. He had side swept hair the creeped to the bottom of his neck. His skin was pale with an icy blue tint. He opened his eyes to reveal they shone an electric green. Upon his head rest a crown made of a crystalline material, reminiscent of an aurora. He wore a navy blue cloak that had a rich purple hood lined with stark white fur. The underside displayed a shifting galaxy pattern. His under suit was the same midnight black as Samhain’s. He donned golden arm bands and a gold chest plate in style quite similar to Spirit’s. His hand were covered in snow white gauntlets that matched Wraith’s vambraces.

They all stood in awe, beholden to the almost divine figure.

The king sent them a gentle smile. It was warm and comforting yet sent a chill down their shoulders.

King Phantom began to fly down toward the center of the city, his entourage fell into step behind him. He hovered several hundred feet over Wayne tower and looked down at the city. He then spoke in a booming voice, his tone kind but commanding.

“ I humbly greet the Lady Gotham, her champions, and her citizens,” the shadows curled toward him appreciatively. “ I am grateful for your cooperation in our effort to rectify a great injustice. As High King of the Infinite Realms it is one of my duties to preside over the afterlife. To bring guidance, peace, and justice to the souls under my jurisdiction. Recently, it has been brought to my attention that there is a soul among you who has not only dodged death, but caused great strife to a vast number of souls who call for justice.”

On the roof of Wayne Enterprises Jason and Damian both stiffen, but remain firm in their gaze toward the king. The king looks out at the city and sparing them the quickest of glances. He continues onward.

“ The man formerly know as Jack Napier, now called The Joker. He has avoided death on many an occasion but his life should have ended moment he fell into a vat of chemicals. Since then he has sent hundreds more to the afterlife. He has long yet to pay his dues. That is why on the behalf of justice, restoring balance, and of my subjects I officially condemn Jack Napier.”

“Jack Napier, you have been allowed 24 hours turn yourself into our custody in order to be put on trial for your crimes in the Infinite Realms. Should you fail to turn youself in, we shall take that as an admission of guilt and acceptance to be punished for your actions. After the 24 hours are up, Samhain shall use his horn to summon The Hunt and we shall track you down.”

His gaze passed specifically over Red Hood, one of the Oracle’s drones, Nightwing, Signal, Red Robin, and Batman before he spoke his next words.

“All those souls who have been wronged by the Joker, both living and deceased, who wish to have a hand in their justice have been invited to join The Hunt if they so choose.”

The king lifted his hand, calling the swirling green clouds to his gather in his palm. The clouds swiftly rearranged themselves into a smokey timer hanging in the sky.

An impish smirk graced King Phantom’s face as he let out a malicious laugh and gave his final decree.

“ Your time begins now!”

#dc x dp #long post #danny fenton #danny phantom #ghost king danny #dani phantom #dan phantom #fright knight #jason todd #the joker #totally legal manhunt for the joker proclaimed by the king of the afterlife #The joker must pay his dues #Bruce fucking hates the joker he’s not gonna try to stop this #Strega’s dc x dp prompt

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tiredwriter2003 · 2 months

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Halloween Dancers

I had an idea, I'll probably write it properly later but for now I'm getting it out of my head. I was reading a post a out Dash being a talkshow host and leading to them outing Amity and this came to mind.

A cousin of a citizen of Amity heard all about all the crazy stuff going down, they keep them updated in their weekly phone calls, but thought they were making it up. Eventually divolves into an argument and they decide to look to prove them wrong. And find the internet oddly sanitised, which makes them look deeper. Eventually they get others involved wondering tf is going on over in Illinois. They manage to break through but mess up, instead boosting the signal so much that the halloween livestreams take over a large chunk of American media. T.v. s, computers, phones, etc all playing the phantom streams, where someone sees phantom just chilling and starts streaming. this time it's Samhain and the place is eerie. Blue tinged fog covers the place, it's dark out, no living person in sight and the camera pointed to the sky. In the sky you see glowing figures dancing to music coming from nowhere. An ageless youth in regal clothes spinning his partner, white hair drifing like he's underwater, his partner dressed like the pharohs of old spinning alongside him. A woman dressed in victorian ballgowns joining their dance. Other etheral beings coming out of the woodwork, spinning in the sky alongside their king. The dead dancing in the starlit sky as the veil becomes thin enough they can all come through with no major issues. And this haunting scene taking over every screen within the signals range. As the hours go by the sun begins to rise and the fog fades. they bow and begin to fade back into the realms, leaving the original three waltzing in the sunrise as the stars fade before leaving themselves and the stream cuts off.

Turns out their cousin wasn't lying, wierd stuff is going on in Amity, and no one, including the JL, knew about it. Someones head was going to rule for the lack of info. This stunk of a coverup.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #Halloween Dancers au #Danny doesnt know the chaos he's caused #just wanted to have fun with his best friends and let his people out to play #there was enough ecto with the portal and thin veil to support them all #he learnt to dance from Sam #if she needed to suffer through ballroom dancing so did the other two #jokes on her they all learnt to enjoy it #now the three will just break into dance together for no reason #dancing down casper high hallways

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hopelessromantic5 · 3 months

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Merlin had been working for Arthur Pendragon for a year when something unusually strange happened.

This wasn’t “life-or-death-vengeful-magical-creature” strange. That happens every day.

No this oddity didn’t even involve Arthur.

The pompous prick had just left in storm of rage because Merlin was once again gone for days at a time and couldn’t give him a good enough answer as to where. Arthur knew Merlin was lying to him, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came to light, and Merlin’s life would be over.

He was still in Arthur’s chambers, in complete darkness. Body folded into a corner, with his arms wrapped around his knees that were being cradled by his chest.

He was sobbing.

Because life was so fucking unfair and he’s allowed to have a pity-party every once in a while. Merlin would say he’s entitled.

His sobs broke off into silence when a single candle lit itself, barely illuminating the room.

Merlin’s head popped up, wide eyed.

There was no one else. Just him.

And that had not been his magic.

Merlin was on his feet and ready for whatever was being hurled their way, this time.

They appeared, out of thin air.

Or she did.

A woman. With blonde hair cascading over over her thin shoulders. A deep green gown, that was beautiful but not embellished or bejeweled. And her eyes were like lakes, blue and too deep to see to the bottom.

Merlin’s breath was snatched from his throat as they stared at each other.

“Do not be afraid. I am not here to harm you.” She said, her voice was soft and melodic, the way Merlin imagined goddesses would speak.

“Who are you?” He whispered, before correcting. “What are you?”

“You can sense that I am not human?”

Merlin nodded, then narrowed his eyes, trying to put it together, but not quite having all the pieces.

“Every living thing gives off a vibration of sorts…a frequency… you give off nothing. As if you’re-“

“A ghost.” She smiled small but it held a secret joke that Merlin didn’t understand.

“You’re a ghost?” He questioned, further confused. “How are you here? It’s not anywhere near Samhain.”

Then the blonde woman’s eyes turned sad. And she turned to the window looking out at the lightless sky.

“There are some special cases.” She murmured. Then snapped her eyes back to him.

“But that is not why I’m here.”

Merlin’s eyebrows went up in expectation.

The woman’s expression turned to something that Merlin had only ever seen from his mother and Gaius. A sort of pity that’s shrouded in love.

She advanced on him and then settled her hands on his shoulders. Upon closer inspection, he could see the way she wasn’t completely opaque, but he felt her hands as if they were solid, flesh and bone.

“I know who you are, Emrys.”

Merlin practically hissed at the name and began to back away towards the door of the chambers.

“What are you planning to do about it? Tell the king?” Merlin was panicked now. If Uther knew then there would be no chance of saving himself. Or of saving Arthur.

“Calm yourself, dear. That is the last place I would be headed even if I did plan to tell someone.”

Merlin stopped, whispering, consciously aware of the guards that will patrol this corridor at some point soon.

“So why are you here?”

“Because, Merlin, I want to thank you. I want you to know that all that you’ve suffered, all that you’ve sacrificed, has not been in vain.”

What? How could she possibly know…

“I have been here some time, Merlin. Unseen but always watching.” She smiled again. “This was the deal I made. I gladly gave my life if they agreed to let me watch him grow.”

Time froze.

And suddenly everything clicked into place for Merlin.

He audibly gasped.

“You…” he started shaking his head as if it were a hallucination brought by bad wine or mysterious herbs. “You’re her.”

He stared back into those eyes.

Those eyes he’d come to know on a different human. Eyes he’d come to love.

“Yes. I am. And I have been here with him, watching him struggle and learn. Make mistakes.”

She clutched him again by the shoulders.

“Merlin, I want to thank you for taking care of my son.”

He was shaking his head and stuttering incoherently, almost silently, trying to find words to express everything he feels every day.

“You-I-your son is…a great man. And he’s going to be a good King. A kind, just, King.”

She smirked again at him, probably knowing more than he did about everything.

And then her smile turned soft as she replied.

“The Once and Future King.”

Merlin nodded, feeling a little giddy himself at the idea. Arthur sitting atop the throne of Albion and ruling his people in an age of peace, until he turns old and grey. Trusting the next generation to take the reins.

Merlin chuckled a little.

“The gods couldn’t have picked anyone better suited.”

“He will need you, Merlin. Especially in what’s to come. But this is nothing you are not already aware of.” She had a very soft smile, genuine, not one harsh line on her whole face. “I’ve also appeared to you now to say, I think you should be truthful with him.” Merlin’s instincts almost caused him to recoil from her again, but he stilled his body, as she continued. “I see him when you are not here, when he is alone, when he’s with his father. The way that he communicates his feelings are hurtful and he has no clue how to work through them. I am sorry that Uther raised him that way.” Merlin watched transparent tears slide down her pale face. “But you help him. He’s getting better with himself, with others. You are the light in his life, he wants to do better because of you, the way you see him.”

Merlin was crying too. He couldn’t help it.

He didn’t think anyone ever knew what really went on inside this blasted castle, but someone was here, watching him fail and try and try again and succeed sometimes, and keep Arthur and Camelot safe and happy. Someone has been rooting for him the entire time, he was never really alone.

“Hold on. Would he be able to see you?” Merlin whispered cautiously. “Do you want him to?”

“I’m afraid that it’s a little more complicated for people without magic. I was able to appear before you now, because your guard was down while you were crying. Your mental and emotional barriers were lowered and I was allowed to reveal myself. For Arthur and I to talk, I would need a lot of magic and a lot of trust.” She reminded him so much of Arthur in the way she hid her melancholy behind a dazzling smile.

“But that is not the reason I think you should tell him. He might be frustrated at first, but he will be far less angry than he was moments ago. He trusts you and he knows there is something you are not telling him. I think you would both benefit from a little honesty, him just as much as you.” She smirked at the last comment.

Merlin cannot believe that he just got talked into revealing his magic by the Queen of Camelot.

This day is so strange.

Wait-

“What does that mean? What is it that Arthur is keeping from me?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and thought. He knew almost everything about the man. He could probably paint him blindfolded at this point, with every buckle and button in perfect place. He knew his sense of humor, his daily schedule by heart, he knew everything Arthur thought about everyone, and Arthur knew the same of him…almost.

Except for that one-okay, maybe two things.

Maybe Arthur had an exception also.

“You will have to be vulnerable in order to find the answer to your question.” It almost sounds like a riddle of Kilgarah’s but the Queen’s made a lot more sense to him than the Great Dragon’s usually did.

“When he returns, avoid cornering him in the room. He does not do well with-“ the lady cut herself off for the first time, somehow even ghosts were conflicted in their thoughts. Her face hardened, “Uther used tactics like this to intimidate Arthur when he was a boy being scolded. For absolutely nothing at all. For doing things that boys should be doing!” Her voice reached its loudest volume and she stumbled farther away from him, wide-eyed.

“I am so sorry, Merlin. I have not spoken to anyone in so long. I didn’t not mean to get angry.” Tears welled in her blue, blue eyes.

Merlin could not stand it.

“There is nothing to apologize for. You have every right to be angry. I am angry. Sometimes with destiny, or dragons, or evil unknown forces lurking in the dark. But always at Uther. For treating Arthur that way, like an animal raised for slaughter. And for never realizing how much it scarred him. And for never changing, or apologizing. Never once. He is not even human anymore.”

They stood there, locked into each other, sharing in their grief, in their pain for this boy that they love more than life.

And then they heard footsteps, both parties equally startled for different reasons.

“Good luck, Merlin.” Igraine was smiling softly again, as if it had never left, maybe that is what Arthur does for her. What he does for them both. Bring the color and joy back into the world like a breath of clean air. “You will do well.” She nodded, before starting to disappear, back into the invisible ether of the castle.

Then the door swung open to reveal Arthur, looking almost apologetic, but also scanning the room before landing his eyes back on Merlin.

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one. Myself.” Another lie. Shit.

This isn’t going well and he’s three words into it.

The prince opened his mouth as if to retort but Merlin stopped him confidently proclaiming,

“Arthur, I need to tell you something.” It was as though Merlin could feel a weight physically lifting off his shoulders as soon as the words left his mouth. “Quite a few things actually. I have not been honest with you. But I don’t want to keep secrets anymore.”

Arthur stood momentarily speechless, surprised at Merlin’s change of heart.

TBC…

#merthur #merlin #merlin and arthur #arthur pendragon #prince arthur #igraine #merthur fic #from the drafts #if I continue it would only be a second part

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allhailkingsquest · 1 year

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[Inktober 2021] Day 31: Risk by silentnoisemedia

#King's Quest #kings quest #KQ6 #Alexander #Lord of the Dead #Samhain #Land of the Dead #inktober #inktober2021 #risk #adventure games #retro gaming #retrogaming #pc games #sierra games

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alterlest · 6 months

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𓃶 What Is The Wild Hunt?

The Wild Hunt is a common belief among many Northern European cultures. In short, the hunt is a cavalcade of ghosts, spirits, fairies, elves, and other spiritual beings that is said to sweep across our world every year. Depending on where your beliefs come from, when it happens will differ.

It is commonly believed that the leader of The Wild Hunt is a deity or figure of importance of some kind, such as Odin/Woden in Norse and Saxon traditions, or King Arthur in British lore. Other leaders of the hunt include but are not limited to:

𖤓 Arawn or Gwyn ap Nudd, commonly seen as the Welsh lords of Annwn

𖤓 Danish king Valdemar Atterdag

𖤓 The Norse dragon slayer Sigurd

𖤓 Biblical figures like Cain, Gabriel, Herod and the devil

𖤓 Gothic king Theodoric the Great

☾༺♰༻☽

𓃶 What Did People Do For The Wild Hunt?

The Wild Hunt was generally seen as a bad omen; one for destruction, famine, war, plague, or the death of the one who saw it. In many traditions, witnessing the hunt would result in the viewer being abducted to Otherworld or Underworld. Other times, those who were not protected would have their souls pulled from their bodies while they sleep, and they would join the menagerie of the dead.

To avoid this fate, people in Wales, for example, began the tradition of carving pumpkins as a way to avoid being taken by the fae. In Scandinavia, offerings like bread were put outside the home as an offering to the spirits joining Odin for the hunt.

☾༺♰༻☽

𓃶 When is The Wild Hunt?

Depending on where your beliefs stem from, there are various answers to this question.

In Britain, The Wild Hunt is associated with the autumn season, specifically around and on Samhain/The Autumn Equinox.

Scandinavian tradition tells us that they prepared for the hunt around December, specifically Yule/The Winter Equinox.

☾༺♰༻☽

𓃶 What Entities Are A Part of the Wild Hunt?

Many entities are associated with the Wild Hunt in different areas. These entities include but are not limited to:

𖤓 The Fae (The Sidhe, The Tlywyth Teg, etc)

𖤓 Spirits of the Dead

𖤓 Demons

𖤓 Valkyries

𖤓 The Spirits of Huntsmen or Nobles

𖤓 Horses (sometimes with an abnormal amount of legs)

𖤓 Wolves and dogs (sometimes spiritual in nature, i.e. the Cwn Annwn)

☾༺♰༻☽

#pagan witch #paganism #witchblr #witchcraft #the wild hunt #king arthur #avalon #gwyn ap nudd #arawn #welsh mythology #norse mythology #norse paganism #fairies #fae folk #fae #faerie #ghost #spirituality #celtic paganism

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stairnaheireann · 1 year

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Samhain and Irish Mythology

Irish mythology was originally a spoken tradition, but much of it was eventually written down in the Middle Ages by Christian monks, who Christianised it to some extent. Nevertheless, these tales may shed some light on what Samhain meant and how it was marked in ancient Ireland. Irish mythology tells us that Samhain was one of the four seasonal festivals of the year. The 10th-century tale…

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#Aided Chrimthainn maic Fidaig #Annals of the Four Masters #Battle of Magh Tuireadh #Book of Invasions #Cú Chulainn #Dindsenchas #Echtra Neraí #Fionn Mac Cumhaill #King Ailill of Connacht #King Tigernmas #Magh Slécht #Oweynagat #Samhain #Serglige Con Culainn #Táin Bó Cúailnge

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blackcrowing · 7 months

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Important Facts about Samhain from an Irish Celtic Reconstructionist

Pronunciation

SOW-in or SOW-een ~NOT~ Sam-han, Sam-win etc.

Dates

Most reconstructionists celebrate Samhain on Oct 31-Nov 1, however some may choose to celebrate on Gregorian Nov 13-14 as this would match the Julian dates of Oct 31-Nov 1. Some also believe that it was a three day festival spanning Oct 31- Nov 2 on which Nov 2 is specifically devoted to ancestral veneration, but there is no specific evidence of this, only possible extrapolation from more modern practices.

Following the Celtic method of days beginning at sunset, regardless of the specific dates you choose to celebrate on your festivities should begin at sunset and end at sunset.

Importance in the Mythos

Ná Morrighan has a strong connection to this time of year thanks to the story of Cath Dédenach Maige Tuired (The Last Battle of Mag Tuired) in which she is found depicted as the ‘Washing Woman’ (sometimes washing herself in the river and other times washing the bloodied armor of the soldiers that would die that day), on the eve of the battle which is also Samhain. The Dagda approaches her and couples with her (creating the ‘Bed of the Couples’ along the bank of river and granting Dagda her blessing in the battle to come). This encounter seems to over emphasize the liminality of the encounter by taking place during the changing of the year and with the couple each standing with ‘one foot on either bank’ of the river.

She and her sisters (Badb and Macha) then use various forms of magic to rain destruction on their enemies (in the form of fire and blood). After the day is won Morrighan speaks a prophecy that describes what is taken by some to be the end of days and others to be the events which will later lead to the Ulster Cycle.

Beneath the peaceful heavens lies the land. It rests beneath the bowl of the bright sky. The land lies, itself a dish, a cup of honeyed strength, there, for the taking, offering strength to each There it lies, the splendour of the land. The land is like a mead worth the brewing, worth the drinking. It stores for us the gifts of summer even in winter. It protects and armours us, a spear upon a shield Here we can make for ourselves strong places, the fist holding the shield Here we can build safe places, our spear-bristling enclosures. This is where we will turn the earth. This is where we will stay. And here will our children live to the third of three generations Here there will be a forest point of field fences The horn counting of many cows And the encircling of many fields There will be sheltering trees So fodderful of beech mast that the trees themselves will be weary with the weight. In this land will come abundance bringing: Wealth for our children Every boy a warrior, Every watch dog, warrior-fierce The wood of every tree, spear-worthy The fire from every stone a molten spear-stream Every stone a firm foundation Every field full of cows Every cow calf-fertile Our land shall be rich with banks in birdsong Grey deer before Spring And fruitful Autumns The plain shall be thronged from the hills to the shore. Full and fertile. And as time runs its sharp and shadowy journey, this shall be true. This shall be the story of the land and its people We shall have peace beneath the heavens. Forever

(based on the translation by Isolde Carmody)

It is also mentioned in Echtra Cormaic that on this festival every seven years the high king would host a feast, it was at this time new laws could be enacted. (but it seems that individual Tuathas or possibly kings of the individual providence may have done this for their territories at Lughnasadh).

It seems to be a time considered especially susceptible to (or of) great change as it is the time which the Tuatha de Danann win victory over the Formorians and take control of Ireland, the invasion of Ulster takes place at this time in Táin bo Cúailnge, in Aislinge Óengusa Óengus and his bride-to-be are changed from bird to human and eventually he claims kingship of Brú na Bóinne at this time of year.

Celebration Traditions

Samhain is the beginning of the “dark half” of the year and is widely regarded as the Insular Celtic equivalent of the New Year. The “dark half” of the year was a time for story telling, in fact in this half of the year after dark is considered the only acceptable time to tell stories from the mythological and Ulster cycle (the Fenian cycle being assumed to be no older than the 12th century based on linguistic dating). Traditionally anything that had not been harvested or gathered by the time of this festival was to be left, as it now belonged to the Fae (in some areas specifically the Púca).

This was also an important time for warding off ill luck in the coming year. Large bonfires would be built and as the cattle were driven back into the community from the pastures they would be walked between these bonfires as a method of purification (the reverse custom of Bealtaine where the livestock were walked between the fires on their way out to the summer pastures). Assumed ritualistic slaughter of some of the herd would follow (though this perhaps had the more practical purpose of thinning the herd before the winter and creating enough food for the feasting). In some areas the ashes from these fires would be worn, thrown or spread as a further way to ward off evil.

Homes would be ritualistically protected from the Aos Sí (Fae or ‘Spirits’) through methods such as offerings of food (generally leaving some of the feasting outside for them), carving turnips with scary faces to warn them off (we now tend to do this with gourds), and smoke cleansing the home (in Scottish saining) traditionally with juniper, but perhaps rowan or birch might be an acceptable alternative. It is likely these would be part of the components used in Samhain bonfires as well, for the same reason.

Lastly based on later traditions as well as links in the mythology this is a time where divination practices or those with the ‘second sight’ were regarded to be especially potent.

Art Credit @morpheus-ravenna

#samhain #irish #irish mythology #irish polytheism #irish paganism #celtic reconstructionism #celtic paganism #celtic polytheism #na morrigna #the morrígan #the dagda #fire festival #blackcrowing #Irish reconstructionist

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landwriter · 1 year

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hob gadling being so goddamn normal compared to his anthropomorphic husband, in-laws, and husband's social circle that he circles right back around to being the more sus/shady one OR hob gadling keeps accidentally derailing dream's attempts to be King of Nightmares by horny vibes/going "joke's on you, i'm into it"/"promise?" to any and all threats

Hob isn't normal, is the thing. He's not. He never was. He was smouldering with strangeness and hunger long before his future sister-in-law took one look at him and decided he'd be good for her little brother.

He asked her, once, bit drunk, if that was why she chose him: if she'd heard him forswearing her in the White Horse and looked at him, peered into the contents of his soul, and thought: well, there's one at least as stubborn as my brother - maybe they'll be good for each other. She'd just smiled and waited for Hob to take another sip before saying, "Good? I just thought it would be interesting," and twinkled at him when he sputtered. Hob said older sisters were terrors, and they'd toasted to that.

Whether she'd intended or not, they were good for each other, him and Dream. It took them a little bit to realize, a small handful of centuries holding one another at arm's length for fear of what would be seen any closer. Then they'd crashed together anyways, and it had turned out they were matched not just in that bloody-minded stubbornness to keep a decent thing going, but also in all the intensity they'd tried to smother to do so, the roaring hunger and devotion and need; the both of them strange creatures capable of giving so much and greedy enough to take just as much in kind.

On the outside, though, others see Dream, his distance, his power, the thunder of his voice, and don't see it as the armour it is, the necessary carapace protecting the sort of tender feelings that could scorch the entire earth, because he is a vessel for human emotions that are strong enough to live on in stories and dreams, because he is, in that respect, - and Hob gets choked up about this, if he allows himself to think about it too much - fundamentally more human than him, than all of them, the embodiment of every fantasy and fear and tall tale of men, tending to them each night, taking no rest for himself.

On the outside, others see Hob, his banal humanness, and other humans assume the rest of him is the same, and so do most non-humans, except they're baffled by it, baffled by why he is Dream's husband. So he plays it up, because it's funny, and if they're too incurious or gullible to figure out what lays beneath, then that's alright, because his husband figured it out, and loves him for it, and that's all he needs.

Dream didn't understand at first why Hob acted extra human whenever they mingled with other capital-e Entities and inhuman sorts, but now he finds it so amusing as well that Hob wonders how the gig isn't up from the moment anyone sees his twitching smirk. His husband has a terrible poker face, Hob thinks.

He's much better at pretending. In fact, he's so good at performing the petty normality expected of him that it goes full circle and becomes, somehow, magnetically strange to all the fantastical creatures in his husband's social circle.

He had not realized the heady effect of normal human upon non-humans until the time he had gone to a Samhain 'do in the Underhill, in his formal role as Prince Consort to the Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, first of his name, et cetera, and, rather comfortable with those sort of events by then, which were really not that dissimilar to interdepartmental faculty parties, with all the posturing and alcohol, only far better outfits, had, a bit soused on the fantastic elphin mead, accidentally started talking with a member of the faerie delegation about the football tables. At first he thought he'd committed a faux pas when the faerie just stared at him, slack-jawed, but later that night, he'd found himself surrounded by a cluster of wide-eyed dryads and undine and fae, gratifyingly holding court on why Billy Wright had been such a shite Arsenal manager. Apparently, it was the highlight of the evening.

It also helps grease the wheels of immortal statecraft, which Hob thinks of as something of a secondary benefit to making his husband smile. He would be a fierce bodyguard and soldier for Dream, in a heartbeat, he would curry favour on his behalf with pretty words and eager gladhanding, but what works out best, he's realized, is when important folk approach them to talk shop with Dream, to head it off with warm conversation about things like Tube construction, ABBA, and sausage rolls, until they look thoroughly disconcerted, before gracefully handing them off to his husband.

Whenever the occasion allows it, he'll skip on the finery too (another thing, he thinks, that he only cares about his husband seeing). Once, a baku ambassador, himself arrayed in glorious golden robes that matched his sharp gilt claws, had been so baffled by Hob's appearance on the arm of Dream, in his ratty old jeans and a United jersey he got as a gag gift once (and, on principle, refuses to wear in the Waking) that the chimera had absently agreed with Dream's suggestion for revised quotas on devouring nightmares.

Dream had been so delighted by that victory that he'd pressed Hob up against the front door of their flat in Islington, the moment they got back in, and laid kisses all over the hideous jersey, murmuring that Hob was a fearsome diplomat, and Hob had laughed and said he was only a distraction, then let Dream drag him to the bedroom anyways to thank him for his contribution.

Some see what's underneath, of course, and Hob's just as glad for that too.

The second time they'd had dinner with Crowley and Aziraphale, well past the food and making excellent headway on the rest of the wine, Dream had been called away on urgent business. Hob thought the night would end there, but the moment Dream left, Crowley had leveled an unsober finger of accusation at Hob and said, "Don't think I can't tell what you're doing."

Hob hadn't needed to try and look confused, but then Crowley leaned in and said, conspiratorially and only accidentally hissing a little, "This 'regular bloke' thing, but you're worssse than him, aren't you? Bet you are. Bet anything," and Aziraphale had genuinely emitted a tiny gasp of affront on Hob's behalf, and Hob was too busy laughing to say that he wasn't wrong at all, while Crowley gleefully swiveled around and said "I told you so, angel. S'obvious. Humansss. Not a normal one among 'em."

It was a lovely thing to say, actually, and all too easy for Hob to forget sometimes, being a particularly abnormal human leading a particularly abnormal life. But Crowley knew what he was talking about. He spent far more time with humanity compared to most of the inhuman lot. When Hob had made him promise to keep his secret from the rest of them - humanity's secret, really - and explained why, Crowley had laughed and laughed and laughed. He thinks it's the moment they became proper friends.

Hob isn't normal, is the thing.

But it's fun to don it like ceremonial garb and be an ambassador of humanity twice over: in truth and performance both. It's fun to be exactly what's expected and still disconcert.

And most of all, it's fun to go back home with his husband, to their terribly normal human flat, and curl up together in their terribly normal human bed, and watch Dream's face flush with pride or amusement as he debriefs Hob on what chaos he's wrought this time, intentionally or otherwise, with his terribly normal human presence, and Hob just laughs, then smiles until his face hurts, because Dream is his husband, wholly apart from humanity and still the most human creature Hob has met, and he knows all the ways that Hob feels like both, too.

#dreamling #the sandman #asks #hob gadling #dream of the endless #my writing #prompt fill #he IS normal in a lot of ways too but you know unreliable narrator #weaponizing ur banality against the eldritch and fantastical #mostly bc ur husband finds it funny #new headcanon: crowley and hob are absolutely best mates #little feral creatures who understand the horrors and delights of humankind alike #hedonists who love modern inventions and distrust large bureaucracies #whose luddite partners are very lovely but fundamentally would rather be in a library reading old books

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bitterkarella · 6 months

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Midnight Pals: The Halloween Factory 3

Bradbury: you! ape! clown! cenobite! frankenstein! wolf man! italian! Bradbury: why do you wear those costumes? King: well, it's halloween, ray, you see- Bradbury: no YOU do not see Bradbury: do not see the magic, the mystery, the wonder Bradbury: of halloween!

Bradbury: the calendar has many days but only one halloween! Bradbury: can it be that you've forgotten? forgotten the magic? King: ray, what are you talking about Bradbury: he's forgotten! forgotten!

Bradbury: you! clown! do you know why you dress like that? King: ah well, see, for halloween i thought i would be my own original character and Bradbury: cenobite! do you know why you dress like that? Barker: cuz it's fucking hot

Bradbury: and you! italian! why do you wear those colors? Lovecraft: u-uh well the green represents pesto and the white is parmesan and the red Bradbury: none of you know! none of you know!

Poe: ray what are you talking about Bradbury: none of you know Bradbury the true meaning of halloween! Bradbury: but tonight Bradbury: oh my friends Bradbury: tonight you will learn Bradbury: for learning the true meaning of halloween Bradbury: is the only way to save your friend

Bradbury: for learning the true meaning of halloween Bradbury: is the only way to save your friend King: dean! what happened to dean? King: was it those bullies from clarion west? King: i swear, if they harm one hair on dean's head--!

Bradbury: no, clown, it is not clarion west behind it this time Bradbury: your dean was whisked away by Bradbury: by Bradbury: look the important thing is you're all gonna learn the haunted history of halloween tonight Lisa Morton: but i already know- Bradbury: NO YOU DON'T

Lisa Morton: see, halloween actually began as the pagan harvest festival of samhain- Bradbury: NO it began as a celebration of childhood whimsy and freckle-faced mischief! Bradbury: your history has no place here!

Bradbury: come! come with me! Bradbury: we'll return to the beginning! Bradbury: to the very first halloween! King: you can't mean- Bradbury: that's right! Bradbury: back 2000 years! Bradbury: to a little manger in bethlehem Bradbury: to witness the birth of dracula!

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #stephen king #clive barker #edgar allan poe #hp lovecraft #ray bradbury #lisa morton

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