Why are black cats traditionally a witch’s familiar?
I did some of my own research so hopefully this is right. Feel free to correct any historical inaccuracies or add your own knowledge.
- Cats were once worshiped across ancient civilizations, especially Ancient Egypt. They were a symbol of multiple goddesses.
- Once Rome became Christian, all Pagan practices went out the window.
- At the beginning of the agricultural age people started bringing cats with them wherever they migrated because they were so good at keeping mice at bay. Since people were storing grain this was especially important.
- Kittens were even given to newlywed couples as a housewarming gift to bring good luck.
- When men went to war and women became widows, they were often left with just their cats for company. Hence the “lonely woman with cats” stereotype.
- These widowed old women who lived alone were also the most likely to be accused of witchcraft and burned at stake.
- A Pope in medieval times declared that cats were satanic and many cats were burned alive. This was a huge mistake on the part of humans as the mice and rat population consequently skyrocketed, leading to the Black Plague.
- Black cats, with their unusually dark fur and yellow eyes were thought to be the familiars of witches, even being able to transform into humans and do evil deeds.
Overall, black cats and witches share a very similar history. Once revered in the Ancient times only to become ostracized once Christianity took hold of the world. Black cats were once a symbol of multiple Goddesses- something that the patriarchy of the church hated. They shared the same fate of being burned for suspicion of being ungodly and Pagan. But in reality, black cats and women, whether witches or not, were all too often each others only companions.
Today, there is much confusion about black cats. Whether or not they are good or bad luck varies country by country. Because of this old superstition, they are the least likely to be adopted in animal shelters even though they make some of the best companions. As someone with the most affectionate, silly, funny, and playful black cat, I highly recommend adopting one. They need you and we need them.
(Pssst…there are captions) Lots of Galra!Keith, since i’m not TOTALLY on board with the theory, but it is fun to imagine :’) There’s so much angst surrounding it, when really all I want is for the Keith to only grow closer to his team mates once the secret gets out, y’know? Also I like the idea that Glarans just kinda act like cats lol (some of Keith’s behaviors here are very much based off my own cat Olliver, oops) The last one is a younger Galran Keith :( Poor boy…
Also the scenes with Shiro are very much inspired/based off this lovely fic my friend Raberba wrote recently! Go read it, it’s so good <3 She may be the reason I finally cracked and drew some Galra!Keith in the first place X’’’D
These are all intended to be purely platonic; please respect the artist’s wishes and do not tag with any romantic ships! Thank you!
I just had a moment with a mouse. Here I am in my room, in bed attempting to sleep, when I hear this pitter patter in my room. I turn the light on, and there is a mouse on the ledge near my window. It kept darting back and forth on the ledge, so I grabbed a pair of gloves and trying not to spook it, approached very carefully. This mouse didn’t seem to afraid to be honest, it seemed a bit more curious about me. I held out one of my gloved hands next to it, and he mouse seemed unsure at first so moved away. But I kept still and kept my hand there and in a few seconds it came back and eventually made its way to my hand. We seemed to have a conversation almost. Like it was asking me for help and I responded with “Don’t worry little guy, I’m gonna help ya out.” So with that, it slowly crawled onto my hand, and I slowly and carefully made my way downstairs, opened the back door and let the little guy go outside. We had a connection there for a moment.
💙 Smells like Palmer’s Cocoa Butter.
💙 Is asked to repeat himself at least three times a day.
💙 Hates cops even though he’s never really done anything super illegal.
💙 Hates the taste of beer. Prefers hard liquor.
💙 Actually never saw the end of Gone with the Wind, it’s like four hours long he was goddamn asleep.
💙 Hides under his porch for hours on end.
💙 Likes doggies. Knows which doggies in the neighborhood are friendly.
💙 Enjoys snacks. Especially chocolate.
💙 Isn’t afraid of snakes, spiders, rats or mice. Only afraid of people.
💙 If you slam a door to hard he’ll have a small anxiety attack.
💙 Disassociates a lot.
💙 Cares about his hair. Actively going for that fresh Sal Mineo small gay 50s teen look.
Anyway Shiro is mine now and Allura is mine and Keith is mine and Pidge is mine and Hunk is mine and Lance is mine and Coran is mine and Zarkon and Haggar and Thace and Ulaz and Matt and Prorok and Nyma and Rolo and Rover and all of the blade of marmora and the druids and Kaltenecker and the mermaids and the mice and those grass people and Varkon and Vrepit Sal and all the background characters and the lions and even Lotor. All mine now. I’m in charge. The writers don’t deserve any of them. Like if u agree I would write them all much better than the actual paid writers.
And then, because I’m me, I stereked it. With sciles bromance. And then it became almost 11k. I have a problem.
As always on his trips to town, his first stop is the
Not because he ever needs a blacksmith but because Deaton opened his own shop when he was fired from the Stilinski estate and Scott is now apprenticed there.
“He’s just finishing up something,” Deaton tells him as he
enters. He doesn’t quite look up from his work but his face flickers into a smile. “Go wait in the back.”
Stiles nods agreeably and heads to the back room. The one
time he’d tried to talk to Scott while he was working, they had both ended up
with pretty horrific burns. And there may have been a small fire. Granted, they
had both been twelve at the time, but five years later, Deaton still doesn’t
Stiles doesn’t blame him. The small fire had been fairly
“Jeez,” Scott says, swinging into the room a few minutes
later. He’s already frowning. “Stiles, you look terrible.”
“C’mon,” Stiles replies. “Is that really how to greet your
dear friend who you’ve not seen for almost a month?”
Scott pulls him into a rough hug but when they break away,
he is still frowning.
“Has she been feeding you at all?” Scott demands and Stiles shrugs one shoulder but doesn’t stop
Scott from reaching up to where he keeps his lunch on the top shelf.
“Technically, yes,” Stiles offers. His stepmother always makes
sure to leave him enough food so that he won’t technically starve. Just not
enough that he hasn’t dropped a considerable amount of weight in the eight
months since his father had died. Not enough that he doesn’t dig into the half
of a sandwich the instant Scott waves it in front of his face.
“I still don’t think you should stay there,” Scott grumbles,
eating his own half at a much slower pace. “You know that you could stay with
me and my mom. She worries about you.”
“You know I have to,” Stiles replies. He doesn’t bother to
elaborate. They’ve had this conversation before. First, when his ever-so-lovely
stepmother fired the entire staff (which at that point, had already whittled
down to Scott, his mother and Deaton) and then every time Stiles manages to
sneak away for half a day or his chores actually gave him a valid excuse to be
Today it is to collect new parasols for his stepsisters.
They apparently don’t have enough money to pay for any repairs to the house or
to buy a sufficient amount of food so that he can eat properly three times a
day but clothing and accessories, they can afford. His stepmother has a very
selective idea of poverty.
“It’s my house,” Stiles finishes, as he does every time. “If
she wants to stay there, she’s going to pay a price.”
“And the price is you,” Scott says and he’s smiling a little
bit now. Stiles grins.
here’s a better jervis tetch origin story to consider (my personal canon where he’s got DID and schizophrenia and isn’t reduced to ‘hats’ and ‘alice’):
- grows up in this countryside home. It’s a re-purposed and changed up old church converted into a house and he lives in the top room (basically the attic) and it’s the only room where the window still has stained glass
- both of his parents are still married and the way they make most of their money is through rabbit farming, he’s got two siblings, an older sister and a younger brother & it’s a shitty marriage, they fight, hate each other, abuse him mentally and physically and there are some instances of other things i won’t get into too much detail about, but they’re bad at hiding their problems around jervis because they don’t really care enough to, so he knows a lot about both of them, basically he knows every family secret because he sees all of it and they don’t notice him, generally they divert their problems onto jervis so he gets the worst of it
- pretty much he just reminds them of the time their marriage was closest to breaking because they had his younger brother to try to fix all their problems which shoved jervis aside so now they focus all their positive attention on the younger brother to forget they’re dysfunctional as shit
- they don’t really care what he does most of the time so he walks to school and back home but instead of coming home right after he goes to the library every day. reads really far beyond his age, teaches himself subjects just to have something to do, just reads whatever he can get his hands on
- one day he’s looking for a new book to read and on the bottom shelf of one of the rows he finds this old and crummy-looking dusty copy of Alice in Wonderland
- gets obsessed with it, stops reading anything else, steals it from the library and justifies it to himself as taking it away from a place where nobody cared about it and saving it from being lonely. it’s like his only sense of agency because he can give that book a better home but can’t do it for himself
we all know that one person who is suspiciously good at meeting celebrities. like you know they’re attending school and working a part time job and never leave the house on the weekends, yet somehow they’ve met all of your favorite bands, got super adorable pictures and videos with them, and have even met some of them more than once??? and its not like they paid four hundred dollars for a meet n’ greet. nah, they just FIND these famous people in random places. like how??? what pagan ritual did u use to become this lucky???? how many virgins did u sacrifice for that selfie with beyonce