kittens wedding

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Happy birthday, Zach Kornfeld! 🎂
(July 26, 1990)

Witches Being Misunderstood is an Understatement

As I research this brilliant topic of Wiccan practices, origins, and history- lm learning of how stereotyped Im raised to believe witches and witchcraft alike are. Here’s some examples and rebuddles of what I mean…


“DEVIL WORSHIPPER” 

Who has ever claimed that was the point… Because I do not follow Christian beliefs to a T doesn’t make me a worshipper of satan. These claims were made by Christians who believed the worship of ANYTHING besides “God” (the big guy in the white robe) is their devil.


“Dont do black magick on me!”

 Anyone who has ever been remotely freaked out thinking we would curse their soul or ruin their lives with magic, has obviously never read the Wiccan Rede… what was it again? “An Ye Harm None, Do What Ye Will”? Huh…


“Eye of *animal*, Wing of *bird*” 

These ingredients aren’t literal, at all… Although my young, shameless self believed it to be, these are just names made up for herbs, plants, and flowers that are ingredients to remedies witches didn’t want abused.


“Why don’t you carry your broom to fly on?” 

This one makes me laugh. Woman used to literally ride broomsticks… maybe it’s a long story but people wanted to use an LSD like ointment and it was most affective on arm pits and … genitals. So they would lather up the broom handle and well… ride the broom into the night causing hallucinations. Weird shit right?


“You’re too colourful to be a witch” 

How? Did I miss the dress code assembly? Because I can wear whatever the fuck I want. Being Wiccan is positive and peaceful and colours have magick their own. If a witch does decide to wear only black, good for them- black means protection, safety, and grounding (amongst other things).


“Where’s your black cat?” 

Cats were once worshipped as symbols of multiple goddesses. In the beginning of the agricultural age, people brought cats with them where they went to ward off mice. Kittens were even wedding presents. Men went to war and women were stuck with the cat and were often widowed… since the woman lived alone- she was also likely to be accused of witchcraft. The Pope also claimed cats were satanic (?) so cats were burned alive - just like witches… but then the mice and rat population went sideways and here comes the Black Plague! Jokes on you - “Whatever you do shall be returns to you three times over”.


So here’s my explanation on stereotypes through research and the ability to look things up and not assume. These are based off of personal experience, first reactions… I also stuck to Wiccan beliefs along with my own personal thrown in the first one (sorry). There are witches out side of Wiccan who do worship Satan and that don’t follow the Rede but this is all biased. Correct me if I’m wrong anywhere here- I apologize already!

Blessed Be! )O(

glorioustoasterwaffle  asked:

*slams fist down on table* tell me what you know about vikings

MY FRIEND…

>Vikings NEVER wore the horns on their helmets; Romans made it up to make them seem scarier.

>Vikings had a very important free-dudes only meeting called a Thing. No weapons were allowed at the Thing; topics were discussed at the Thing and everyone had the right to have their say (except thralls and women, there were some exceptions).

>Vikings had slaves, called Thralls.
Vikings could name them whatever the hell they wanted, so you might have ended up with a nasty nickname.

>Dying in Battle was the BEST THING for Vikings. If you fought and died well, Valkyries would come get your bloodstained ass to go to Valhalla; where you’d get to feast and fight with the dudely gods.

>The Morrigan was a goddess who often appeared to a warrior who was about to die in battle. You might see her as a crow with a bloody rope around her neck, or as a beautiful woman who was washing your bloodstained clothing in a river.

>Vikings thought maths was magic; also women. Magic was a female craft, and they were taught maths and herblore from a young age.

>Viking men wore makeup. Specifically eyeliner, to emphasise their eyes.
That’s right fuckbois. Big bad raiders… wore eyeliner.
And sewed. And Knitted. And did all the little handicrafts necessary for them to survive.
Not to mention women knew how to fight… they could defend their own land.

>Vikings had a precursor to chess called Hnefatafl.

>If a Viking Lord died, one of his household’s female thralls could volunteer to accompany him. She would be laid beside him and stabbed through the heart by an elderly woman dressed all in black (can’t remember if she’s an Angel of Mercy or an Angel of Death). Some tales said she would go to a different type of valhalla, for women, for her bravery.
Alternately, Viking OFTEN sacrificed slaves during funeral rites; a bit like some pharaohs did. So they could continue serving him in Valhalla.
>Several instances of widows being sacrificed at their husband’s funeral have been found. Grave goods were common - dependent on their status and craft in life.

>Funerary ships were either cremated or buried; the most amazing buried funeral ship they ever found was one they assumed was for a high-born or ranking woman. So, you know, some ladies got a hell of a send-off too.

>Viking ladies were gifted a kitten on their wedding day, to be a mouser.

>Vikings lived in long houses; and often consisted of one long room. Animals could be brought inside for warmth. They were actually quite fuctional with a hole in the roof to let out cookingfire smoke.

>If you bothered a viking lady, there were repercussions. Like, if you didn’t take no for an answer, you were in the wrong and her family (os she herself) would enforce that. If you put hands on her, and she did not want it, you could lose your damn hands.
Striking a woman was the most horrendous thing… women were mystical creatures of magic and very important. And it showed you were a savage with no control.

Violence was for the battlefield, never amongst your own people.

>There is new evidence to suggest that Vikings even made it to Asia, with some goods and even skeletons of persons of asian descent being located in ancient viking settlements.

>Women wore clothes called Kirtles. You had the underkirtle (usually plain) and an overkirtle (dyed).

>Vikings believe that the world and gods came into being from the armpit sweat of a giant.

>Odin GAVE his eye for the power of Knowledge/Wisdom. He has two ravens to watch the worlds (usually Midgard, we keep fucking up) for him.

>My favourite story about Thor was the one where the Giants stole Mjolnir.
So like, rather than just go get it… Thor dressed up as a chick; nice dress and everything. Didn’t shave the breard though, but the Giants were like ‘whatevs, her beard is lovely and luscious’.

He convinces like the chief giant king dude to marry him, and there they are at the wedding banquet, right?

Why the ruse? You’re probs asking right now… well, here’s the reason:
In many variations of the tale, the couple has to be blessed by a hammer (in other tales, it gets placed on the bride’s knees to symbolise their commitment to a truce between Asgard and the Giants through their union)…
So right about the end of the wedding, at the banquet part, Mjolnir gets brought out… and my fav version of the tale has Thor vaulting the table in his dress, taking it back, and kicking all kinds of ass.

>Loki fucked a horse.
Like… literally, went full on Ancient Brony, my friend.
LOKI WAS THE FIRST BRONY.

Then he got pregnant and birthed an eight-legged horse (Slepnir) that Odin his grandady, now rides evrywhere. Bc that’s not something the Asgardian Child Safety needs to look into or whatever…

Not to mention his other kids (giant ass snake, massive wolf, his daughter Hel).

>Hel. Not hot. The worst thing for vikings was COLD, so Hel is a cold, dark, bleak, nothing place ruled over by Loki’s Daughter. Who was born ‘hideous’ and cast away by dbag Odin himself.

>In several texts, Loki tied his testicles to a goat as entertainment at a banquet feast. The Asgardians thought it hilarious.

>The dwarves got pissed off from Loki stealing or conning their best weapons out of them, so they punished him by sewing his false mouth shut.

>Vikings put dragons on the prow as a scare-tactic.

> Sewing was forbidden (for men) during raiding months (it was an indoor winter activity); exceptions being - sewing the sails, fixing torn clothing whilst a-viking, and making/mending nets.

>Vikings had purple carrots.

>Vikings had their own versions of french knitting.

>Vikings had a whole bunch of very clever, but really fiddly things to make clothes and embroidered embellishments (like, tablet weaving). Vikings had a real thing about looking good to show their status.

>Vikings often raided churches, bc in medieval times they got first dibs on a lot of shiny money things… and vikings liked shiny money things.

>Vikings found both Iceland and Greenland.

>Goddess Freya rides on a chariot pulled by cats.

>Her twin brother Frey is perpetually hella nekkid.

>Frey taught Loki magic; because he was more inclined.
It is one of the reasons he always made others uneasy; magic is for women, and women only… that he used it to shapeshift and cause mischief was… odd, to viking sensibilities.

>Vikings were actually very clean. They believed in remaining clean, where possible. Sure, bathing in a tub everyday wasn’t a thing; but they made sure to wash faces, hands, feet, important bits.

>They ate a lot of fish; sheep and other stock had other uses, but would also be eaten. Vikings had a lot of stew. It was simpler, ad vegetables were more aailable. They also made bread and other general items.

>Vikings DID have drinking horns. And they required special pegs to hold them.
Drank a LOT of mead, held a lot of feasts, etc. Feasting was an art, everyone liked out-storying the others; it was a really big thing, having the best epic.

>Beowulf has a fucktonne of verses, but they used to memorise it all and repeat it from end to end.

>THE SHOW VIKINGS IS ABOUT AS HISTORICALLY ACCURATE AS THE LAST PISS I TOOK… PLEASE STOP BOTHERING REENACTORS!!!
My friends, it is hollywood concocted nonsense. The next one of you self-righteous fuckbois that try to argue that something a reenactor is doing (based on what they have learned/researched/practiced/demonstrated knowledge of to be asked to join the reenactment event), because the shitty half-assed not-even-vaguely-historically-accurate tv show depicts the actors doing something different… I will fly in from the sky on a goddamn pegasus and stab you with my sword. STOP DOING THaT.

>Ragnarok is the viking armageddon. Frost and Fire giants will battle, Thor will die fighting Jormungdr (his nephew the slytherin, btw), Odin’s fucked, Loki is in trouble… basically chaos.

>There are nine realms in Viking mythology, all connected to one another by Yggdrasil, the tree of life. Midgard and Asgard are only two of the realms held aloft by it’s branches.

>Vikings loved a bit of flair. Jewellery was a must. All forms.

Okay but actually

Sometimes I just imagine Maka being super anti-marriage because of her parents, like she has no interest in ever being married whatsoever

And Soul’s like “But can we. Uh. Still do. Married people things.”

And she’s like “yeah okay”

And maybe eventually they get a civil union or something just for legality’s sake and maybe their parents get on their case after like ten years or if they decide to have a kid but they’re just like “we don’t need to be married, we’re fine”

Because Maka’s dad would be a complete tool the whole time and her mother wouldn’t be there and Soul’s parents would want some ridiculous church-y thing with like 300 people neither of them knows and no thank you

And they’re just… fine the way they are

And other times I still imagine Maka being “eh” on marriage and Soul being a not-so-secret romantic at heart and he wants a stupid wedding so she agrees to a tiny little friends-only ceremony with a big party after as part of the compromise and they spend half the party making out somewhere

And she always, always keeps her name

Or Soul straight-up becomes Soul Eater Albarn because it’s not like he’s going to ask her to take the name he hates anyway

Heart and Soul, the wedding

I wanted to give @sluah something special for her birthday. Thank you for such a wonderful friend, always encouraging of what I do, and also for being boundless source of creativity and inspiration. 

So I set out to draw something like a fairytale storybook illustration, that would perhaps accompany the text “And they lived happily ever after…”

Hopefully I did ok? Inspired by Art Nouveau style, in a tarot card like format.

A/N: Midoriko-sama requested something cute and fluffy from me, the master of angst. Well, I hope this is fluffy enough. I certainly think it’s adorable. ^^

Weddings on Berk were always extraordinary and monstrously enjoyable affairs. For the Vikings, any excuse to get drunk, dance, sing (if it could be called that) and celebrate was always welcome. And this was for a normal wedding.

So when the young chief of Berk finally decided to tie the knot with his equally young fiancé, everyone near lost their minds.

Keep reading

vows: or the wedding of bitty steeb and bucko

If the State of New York had allowed it at the time and if the world had been populated with fewer homophobic assholes, then the official wedding date for Mr. Steven Grant Rogers and Mr. James Buchanan Barnes would have been December 7, 1938.

Of course, their luck being what it is, the morning of their wedding day dawned with Bucky having a very long argument with Death about how She ought to spare his tiny little punk.  Bucky had been having this argument for over a week now, punctuating his point with begging old Doc Sherwood to come over, because there was no way in hell he could bring Stevie to the hospital now.  He’d pleaded his cause with good broth and medicine scrounged up with their meager savings or what he could beg and borrow from friends and neighbors.  He’d countered with cool cloth dipped in icy water to counter Steve’s fever. 

And his closing arguments consisted of holding Steve close, whispering, “Don’t you leave me.  Don’t you goddamn leave me, Steve Rogers.  You fight this, punk.  You fight this, and live through it, or I swear to God and everything that’s holy, I’m coming after you to the other side.”

And Steve, contrary cuss that he was, tightened those long artist fingers around Bucky’s own, whispers back, “I’m not going anywhere.  Not letting you do anything stupid, Bucko.”

So Death was charmed, evidently, and this morning dawns with Steve’s fever broken, with his thin face less pale and tinted now with a healthier color. 

And Bucky wakes to gentle fingers threading through his hair, the sweetest caress down his cheek.  He turns and captures those fingers with his own hand, pressing a kiss to each digit.  “Hey.”

“Hey yourself."  Steve tugs weakly at Bucky’s hand.  "When’s the last time you’ve seen your own bed, Buck?”

Bucky rubs at his eyes with his free hand.  What he really wants is to crawl into bed with a Steve who’s finally well, fold his tiny punk into a comfortable tangle of limbs, bury his nose into the back of Steve’s neck and sleep for a week. 

At least.

He manages a wan smile.  “Think I’ve forgotten where my bed is, punk.  You better get well soon, get up from there and help me find it.  It’s here…. somewhere."  He gulps comically.

"You’re a mook, I swear.”

“Oh is that any way to speak to a fella, Rogers?  Here I am, the very picture of loving devotion, practically living my wedding vows - ”

What wedding?”

“… for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health and nope, Ms. Death can keep walkin’ - she ain’t getting you, baby, not if I had anything to say about it.”

“Funny I don’t remember nothin’ about this wedding.  Don’t remember gettin’ no proposal neither.  Not that this is gonna work, considering we’re fellas and I don’t think the state of New York’s gotten around to letting two fellas call each other husband and husband.”

“Screw the state of New York. You’re my mister, whether I gets a piece'a paper to say it or no.”

“I ain’t got no weddin’ ring neither.”

Naturally, Bucky takes that as a challenge.  With a bit of sleight of hand, he flourishes it and casually slides it over Steve’s finger.   “Ma’s wedding ring - look it fits you perfect.”

“I, Steven Grant Rogers, take you, James Buchanan Barnes, to be my husband.  I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you… always.

"That don’t sound quite like the traditional vows there, Mrs. Barnes.”

“This ain’t no traditional wedding neither, Mrs. Rogers."  Steve looks a little sad.  "I ain’t got any ring to give you.  Mam was buried with her wedding rings.”

Bucky leans close, presses a brief kiss to Steve’s nose.  “You already got me on the ball and chain.  Don’t worry about it.  Just…. don’t leave - ”

And at that, Bucky surprises himself by bursting into tears.  He tries to stop himself, angry and embarrassed and tired and frightened all at once.  But he’s the one who gets tugged to lie down next to Steve on his bed, petted and caressed with gentle hands, Steve’s turn to press kisses into Bucky’s skin, wherever he could reach. 

“I ain’t going nowhere, you hear me, Bucky?  Ain’t making you a merry widower just after we made our wedding vows.  I promise.”

“Meow!”

The boys are startled by the sudden appearance of their next door neighbor’s cat.  Babushka’s pet is a big, strong, fluffy fellow with bright green eyes and once more, he meows. 

Steve laughs.  “See?  We got Babushka’s cat as a witness.”

So that was the real wedding of James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers. 

The wedding reception doesn’t happen until seventy odd years later.  Their guest list was varied and composed of friends turned family.  The food was apparently excellent - not that they noticed, being too busy exchanging kisses.  A Norse God blessed the renewal of their vows and gave a kitten for a wedding present.

And this time, Steve had a wedding ring to slide onto Bucky’s finger. 

They had dogtags too and they went quite nicely with their wedding rings.

- end -

ETA:  Postscript After June 26, 2015

Actually, the two idiots elope.

Again.  

Between HYDRA, Bucky still recovering and various shenanigans involving superheroes (Stevie, our lives are a fucking comic book, what the fuck – ) and superheroics, the thought of actually making things legal had slipped their minds.  Well, until the news broke out anyway. 

They ended up donning their respective dress uniforms - although they were, in fact, not quite Captain and Sergeant respectively, but nicknames tended to stick and off they went to the courthouse. 

Bucky had the wedding rings in his pocket; Steve was too giddy to be trusted with anything sensible. 

Okay, so the clerk shamelessly took a photo of the two of them and Steve spotted it and cheerfully grabbed her phone and demanded she be included in their photo.  

So it was on Twitter and Instagram that the Avengers found out about the elopement (Cap, I’m hurt you two didn’t ask me to wedding plan - it would have been a tasteful use of the Stars and Stripes, I swear….. Tony, that’s why we didn’t ask you to wedding plan!) but after all the good-natured ribbing and the fact that Pepper promised to sit on Tony about the Stars and Stripes decorating, Mssrs. James and Steven Rogers-Barnes said they were planning to have a little reception anyway for their family.

Natasha did not get a little bright-eyed at the realization that two of her favorite fellas considered her family. 

So yes, there was another ceremony - because Thor was going to bless their union.  Sam was Steve’s Best Man and Nat was Bucky’s Best Woman.   Tony and Director Coulson totally did not lay waste to the Kleenex supply (What are you talking about, I just got something in my eye, I am not being sentimental at all, at all…. DUM-E quit it with the Kleenex boxes!). 

Bucky named their wedding kitten “Punk.” 

Hawaii was their honeymoon destination, in which Bucky was to later learn the dangers of putting two trouble-magnets named Steve in the same vicinity of each other.  But that’s another story. 

#LoveWins

- end -

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Today in Cool (?) Stuff in the MailWalter Potter’s Curious World of Taxidermy.  Walter Potter was a British country taxidermist whose whackdoodle scenarios of kitten weddings and rabbits in school became a renowned example of Victorian whimsy (though, uh, perhaps a bit upsetting to modern sensibilities – I didn’t post the taxidermied kittens, for which you’re no doubt thanking me right now).  

Potter died in 1918 and the collection continued on as a museum for decades – interestingly, when it was finally split up and sold off in 2003, auction house Bonhams rejected a £1 million pound bid from Damien Hirst for the entire shebang, a decision that later got them sued by the original owners who argued the bid should’ve been accepted.  Though I dunno, I can’t see how being studded with diamonds or suspended in formaldehyde could improve on this any.

– Petra

Domestic cats are actually largely carnivorous, so when their mothers take too long preparing the meatloaf they get angry.

please imagine Loki surrounded by very tiny screaming kittens, and he tries to solve it with little magic illusion mice and such, but all the kittens wanna do is climb his leather and green armor and play with his hair

he blames Freyja for sending them as some prank, but it was actually Thor that gave them to Loki but he got them from Freyja, because Thor is proposing marriage to Loki and the kittens are the wedding gift Loki least expected