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whencyclopedia · 6 months

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Samhain

Samhain (pronounced “SOW-in” or “SAH-win”), was a festival celebrated by the ancient Celts halfway between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice. It began at dusk around October 31st and likely lasted three days. Samhain marked the transition between the year's lighter and darker halves and was celebrated throughout the ancient Celtic communities of Europe, including Ireland, Wales, and Scotland. Believed by the ancient Celts to be a liminal time when the veil between the human and spirit realms is lifted, Samhain is considered by many to be the precursor to contemporary Halloween celebrations. Samhain is also the modern Irish word for the month of November. In Ireland, the Hill of Ward in County Meath was the sacred site of the Samhain fire festival, and in recent years, people have gathered there on Halloween to participate in a modern-day Samhain revival.

#History #TheMorrigan #TheDagda #Samhain

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celtichammerclub · 2 years

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!NEW ARTWORK! The Badb Catha (Battle Crow) is one of three iterations of war goddess collectively known as the Morrigna. The Morrigna are mentioned throughout Irish mythology and are said to foreshadow death and influence fate and the outcome of battles. The Battle Crow in particular is associated with striking fear and confusion in soldiers engaging in battle. The Morrigna are a prominent and terrifying motif in ancient Celtic mythology. Ravens and crows are prevalent throughout many ancient mythologies and are often associated with war, death, and premonition. This common theme across cultures is most likely because of Crows’ propensity for feasting on the dead flesh of fallen soldiers. However, another interesting theory indicates that these birds are so intelligent that they learned to recognize when a battle was about to begin from the formation of troops, etc, and then gather above/near the battlefield seemingly predicting the coming fighting and death. This is what gave them their seemingly prophetic abilities. Prints and apparel available at celtichammerclub.Threadless.com ➖ #celtichammerclub #badb #badbcatha #crow #raven #goddess #wargod #wargoddess #irishmythology #morrigan #themorrigan #celt #celtic #celticart #irish #irishart #mythology #originalart #celtictattoo #irishtattoo #magic https://www.instagram.com/p/CjGY67Xrf_m/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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blackkaatlynagency · 10 months

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bloody ruby lipped angels

Some stoned Moon

Hmmm .. umm .. whuh ...,

Good god mourning solaces abound and sound ..

Sparrows soul and sunglasses shaman.. Carrera .. Hawthorne. Norfolk ...

Fuqued .. fuct .. fucked .. girls in skinny jeans .. fuck

Fuck you you fucking fuck .. and Lydia other schnauzers .. nominal quell-red storm safe ..

Wood .. you be my .. neighbor neighbor .. not not thy neighbor's wife .

Is that paper

Tater salad is that paper

That's what I said

Is that paper

Das white paper

Toughbook Yankee

Das white ps

Xxihs oooh ahhh baba ..

Mwwwwaaaah

Dc and finch

Jaime Silvertail

i got linx

#courage #witch #themorrigan #saintsaintsaint #remembertoeat #saintnilocandtheeast #1432 #scarlet witch #witches of tumblr #heathen #jesusinprayjesusinjesusnameipray #dancers #weaintstrippersandshametoo #bringourtroopshome

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teatoast-n-tarot · 1 year

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#libra #tarot #tarotreading #tarotcards #cardslinger #twoofswords #strengthtarot #shadowandlight #insideandout #fullmoon #candle #crystals #oweynagat #inlikealionoutlikealamb #themorrigan #heathen #chumash #wicca #bruxas #cosmology #moon #ostara #ancienttexts #nemain #cottagewitch #greenwitch #forestwitch #moonshine #moonlight (at Liverpool) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpdGodTs9gE/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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witchcraftmagazine · 1 year

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Crows and Ravens are associated with Gods and Goddesses of Magic and Prophecy ✨go to our story and click the link 👉 https://www.magicalrecipesonline.com/2017/06/animals-omens.html #omens #omen #prophecy #odin #themorrigan #thoth #apollo #hera #asclepius #crows #ravens #magpies #superstition #superstitions #superstitious https://www.instagram.com/p/CmCYLD2Mdly/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#omens #omen #prophecy #odin #themorrigan #thoth #apollo #hera #asclepius #crows #ravens #magpies #superstition #superstitions #superstitious

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caitlinmccarthyart · 2 years

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SH0P UPDATE 🎃 Samhain creeps closer and Halloween is nearly here! I’m so excited but also a bit sad as my favorite season draws to a close. Thank you to all that have participated and supported our second All Hallows’ Art Challenge. I’ve had so much fun with this year’s prompts! 🎃 I’ve added eleven new prints this month as well as new stickers and tote bags. So go take a peek and adopt some new art to haunt your home 🎃 #caitlinmccarthyart #themorrigan #darkgoddess #samhain #halloweenart #witchart #witchartist #paganwitch #witchcraft #witchesofinstagram #witchesofig #goddessart #celticgoddess https://www.instagram.com/p/CkQ0AeKp5Qn/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#caitlinmccarthyart #themorrigan #darkgoddess #samhain #halloweenart #witchart #witchartist #paganwitch #witchcraft #witchesofinstagram #witchesofig #goddessart #celticgoddess

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atldwordhaven · 1 year

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Book Review: Raven Goddess (Going Deeper with the Morrigan) by Morgan Daimler

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ This is the second book by Morgan Daimler on The Morrigan that I have read, and once again it was an absolute pleasure. I have been reading a lot of non-fiction lately, which I normally find daunting because I use reading as my primary means of escape from this planet we live on. Occasionally though, as I have found to be the case with all of Daimler’s books I have read, I am able to…

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#bookrecommedations #paganportals #themorrigan #@goodreads #@morgandaimler

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mayfairemooncorsets · 1 year

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When The Morrigan shows up at your house…. Thanks and glory to: @alexmedvickphoto @thechangelingroom @eventsbymerida #themorrigan #blue #silk #fashion #costume #costumedesign #weddingdress #weddinggown #offbeatbride #geek #folklore #corset #corsetry #corsets #steelboned #handmade #custommade #bespoke #waterfallpleats #victorian #train #paymentplans #thecatswereterrified https://www.instagram.com/p/CqLY1xYDDaP/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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sojournstudio · 2 years

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Okay, NOW I'm finished with The Morrigan. Made some final color and value adjustments to this piece, etc..

I am available for commissions!

https://ko-fi.com/teutelquessir

#morrigan #themorrigan #pagan #irishmyth #irishpagan #paganmyth #mythology

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mabhsavage · 2 years

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Covid recovery reading. Excited to get a copy of this book by @morpheus_ravenna ! Thanks uk.bookshop.org . . . . #PaganBooks #Morrigan #TheMorrigan #BookOfTheGreatQueen https://www.instagram.com/p/CfhNmHVMGWd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#paganbooks #morrigan #themorrigan #bookofthegreatqueen

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pale-moonyart · 2 years

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The Morrigan Takes On The Shape Of A Crow Or Raven On The Battleground When Death Is Near… Day Five Done I Think I’m Just Going To Carry It On A Day Into July Instead Of Trying To Catch Up. I Tried Last Night And It Was Just A Fail After Fail So I Painted Over It (Twice 😅) And Done This In White Ink. ______________ #irishfolklore #irishfolkloreart #irishfolklorestories #irishmythology #irishmythsandlegends #irishgoddess #themorrigan #celticmythology #celticfolklore #celticgoddess #art #artistsoninstagram #artoftheday #artist #artwork #artchallenge #artdaily #autisticartist #irishartist #irishart #junedrawingchallenge #draw #drawing #drawdrawdraw #draweveryday #drawdaily #dippen #dippendrawing #inkdrawing #inkart https://www.instagram.com/p/CeeKp8hjVvf/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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psychlone · 2 years

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#straith #ogham #irish #celticgoddess #celticspirituality #themorrigan #morriganscallretreat This symbol, used for the sound St, is Straith (sometimes seen as Straif), the Blackthorn tree. A symbol of authority and control, the Blackthorn is connected to strength and triumph over adversity. Blackthorn is a tree (although some might argue it's more of a really big shrub) of winter, and its berries only ripen after the first frost. White flowers appear in the spring, and the bark is black and thorny. On a medicinal level, Blackthorn berries–sloe berries–are brewed to make a tonic (this is what Sloe Gin is made from). The tonic can be used as a laxative and/or diuretic, as well as a skin astringent. In folklore, the Blackthorn has a fairly unpleasant reputation. An English legend refers to a devastating winter as a "Blackthorn Winter." It also represents the darker side of magic and witchcraft. Because it's a plant that becomes hardy when all around it is dying, it is associated with the Dark Mother, the Crone aspect of the Goddess, particularly the Cailleach in some parts of Scotland and Ireland. There is also a strong connection to the Morrighan, because of Blackthorn's association with the blood and death of warriors. In fact, in early Celtic culture, the Blackthorn was popular for its use in the cudgel shillelagh. (at Camp Cedarcrest) https://www.instagram.com/p/CeXIziJr6IQ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#straith #ogham #irish #celticgoddess #celticspirituality #themorrigan #morriganscallretreat

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celtichammerclub · 2 years

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NEW ARTWORK!! The Three Morrigna are sisters who are three different iterations of the same goddess. This collective trinity goddess is often referred to in the singular as The Morrigan. The Morrigan is mentioned often throughout Irish mythology. The Name Morrigan translates into “Great Queen” or “Phantom Queen.” She is a shape shifter, often appearing as a raven or crow, and a goddess of war; often influencing the progression and outcome of battles. She and her sisters also prophesize the coming death of soldiers and by appearing as a woman washing their bloody armor as an omen of their impending doom. My artwork depicts the three sisters of the Morrigna represented in crow form rotating in the form of a Celtic triskele. The red color being used as a reminder that the Morrigna are often bringers of death and misfortune. Available on prints and apparel at https://celtichammerclub.threadless.com/designs/the-three-morrigna-1 ➖ #celtichammerclub #themorrigan #irish #irishmythology #Raven #ravens #crow #crows #celt #celtic #triskele #symmetrical #morrigan #morrigna #celtictattoo #logo #sigil #celticart #irishart #bird #birds #prophecy #prophetic #godofwar #goddess #banshee https://www.instagram.com/p/Cjk1MY2r1bO/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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teatoast-n-tarot · 1 year

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#virgo #tarot #tarotreading #tarotcards #cardslinger #threeofswords #thehangedmantarot #shadowandlight #insideandout #fullmoon #candle #crystals #oweynagat #inlikealionoutlikealamb #themorrigan #heathen #chumash #wicca #bruxas #cosmology #moon #ostara #ancienttexts #nemain #cottagewitch #greenwitch #forestwitch #moonshine #moonlight (at Liverpool) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpdGcYzsy7o/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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preciouslandmermaid · 2 years

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quiet fury in your head - [ii]

morpheus "dream" of the endless x f!reader!themorrigan.

Note: This chapter contains violence/fighting between two gods. Again, no use of Y/N. See the first part for a more comprehensive tag list lol.

As of 9/10: Fic has been overhauled for clarity and adjusted to present-tense.

Rating/Warning: Mature

Terms to Know/Pronunciation Guide: (source)

Badb – “Bive.” (Like five, but with a ‘B’) | Dagda – “Dag-duh” | Lugh – “Loo” | Macha – “Makh-uh/Mock-uh” (a hard ‘c’ instead of soft) | Nemain – “Ney-van” the Otherworld – the dwelling place of the Celtic Gods, supernatural entities, and spirits.

(Read on Ao3) || (masterpost for other chapters)

****

Lughs’ blonde, curly hair touches his broad, muscled shoulders and a thin, golden circlet wraps around his head. His eyes are gold, the radiance of dawn and fossilized amber, surrounded by a deep, impenetrable midnight. They crinkle at your approach.

His beauty is radiant and divine. Many maidens and Gods have fallen for Lugh, and though you understand why, you never lost yourself to the whims of his charm. You do not crave warmth. You burn with plenty of your own fire.

“We are to fight together on the morrow.” Lugh says before offering you a cup of wine. “Drink.”

You drink it swiftly and set the empty cup alongside the platters of seared and roasted meats. “Then there is much I must do before tomorrow comes.”

Lugh squints at you, “What could be more important than celebrating our victory?”

Your People have not yet fought, yet Lugh acts as if victory is assured. Perhaps if you held his easy confidence, you would not be so distraught over your sister’s prophecy. It itches over the back of your mind like a scab.

You long to speak about it but will not broach this topic with Lugh. He is your ally alongside the battlefield. He inspires bravery and hope. He is not – however – your friend.

“Inspiring fear.” You answer simply. “I will destroy their armies from within.”

Lugh looks amused. “All in one night?”

“Time holds no dominion over us.”

You stare out into the feasting hall. The spirits of warriors eat and drink without fear or lingering injuries. If only you could summon their spirits to battle. But – no. They fought well and earned their place. The Otherworld is a place of peace and of rest. It is no wonder you are so anxious to return to the Mortal Realm.

You return to the village of the Intruders on four legs and dark fur coat. You walk among the shadows and sniff the cold, misty air. Your muzzle twitches. The scent of fresh blood lingers in the air, but it’s animal blood—not human. You circle around the front of the tiny house and shift before someone notices. You become a smaller creature with eight legs and multiple eyes.

You scuttle beneath the door crack and resume human shape at the foot of his bed. You will not risk entering the Dreaming so soon. Yet, you can exert power here. It is an old trick, really. You are the whispering branches in the woods, the touch of darkness that the bonfire cannot illuminate, the delirium of swimming in dark waters.

You crawl into the hard, chaff-packed cot and lean over the sleeping, peaceful form of your enemy.

Your lips drop to the shell of his ear, and place one hand over his chest.

You whisper old, old magic into his mind. You locate the glowing ember of paranoia and fear within his spirit. You have a foundation to work with. He fears the townsfolk. He fears the moors and shadows in the forest. He fears devils in his bedroom. Though you will not access his dreams, he stirs beneath your palm, and sheen of sweat dapples on his weathered brow.

For the entire night, you whisper to him, until a red sunrise bleeds across the misty, blooming horizon.

“They have less warriors.” Macha observes, glorious in her evergreen armor, her vibrant copper hair braid into a crown around her head. “Was that your influence, young sister?”

A stroke of pride licks along your cheek. “Yes.”

“Then victory is assured.” Lugh announces from your other side, holding his spear, glowing gold and white.

A raven circles and cries from above. You glare up at Badb. You wish she would take human form and join you.

Everything ends. Even Gods. A shiver runs down your spine and you shake it off. You are not afraid. You are the fearless Nemain, God of Demons, of Rage, and Ravens. A deity of impulse and desire, bloodshed, and bounty. You will face this battle as you have faced thousands before. This will not be your death. Gods cannot die.

You weave the threads of anger of your People, pure and scarlet, and tug at them. They will defend their homes, their families, their country, their kings. They will honor their way of life, their Gods, their history.

You reach and pull the enemy’s fear with your other hand. It is harder to manipulate. Their threads are silver and prickled in your grasp like thorns. Many of them are arrogant and self-assured. They believe their cause to be just and their actions righteous.

You flash your teeth and growl low in your throat.

“Remain here.” You instruct Lugh and Macha before vanishing and reappearing at the center of the enemy army. It will take power to reveal yourself. You nudge your sisters and tell them without words of your plan. You feel Macha’s strength. You feel Badb’s cold, hungry touch of death. You plant your feet into the soil and drag your hands downward, your fingers like claws. The natural, Human fear before a battle sink into your skin.

Death appears beside Dream in a brushing flutter of wings, “What are you doing here?” The battlefield ahead surges with anticipation. For her, it will be a long day of carrying souls to the beyond.

Dream scans the grassy, damp hills. “I am looking for someone.”

Suddenly, a shriek – blood curdling, echoing, and cold—cut the silence. Dream’s long cloak flaps in a gust of wind that follows. In the distance, a retinue of soldiers drop unceremoniously to the ground. Their spears, swords, and shields clatter nosily alongside and on top of them.

“That’s my cue.” A quick look to Dream. His expression is neutral, and he offers no insight about his thoughts or motivations. “I hope you find whoever you’re looking for, brother.”

Dream tilts his head in the barest of nods. It is an answer to Death. It is a farewell to her.

The battle begins in earnest. Several flee after your scream killed a hundred men. You feel their hearts freeze in terror. You feel their prayers die on their lips. You hear Badb’s ravens swooping overhead, crying out in warning, and in victory at the meal of flesh they’d soon have.

You stalk your enemies, blood and dirt coating your skin, and play the frenzy and havoc of war like strings of a harp. Their blades miss their mark. They stumble on the damp, dewy grass. You savor each death and count it among a personal success. A trophy.

For each Trespasser that dies, it means your Godhood is safe, that your family and allies will remain here to guard the hills and forests of this emerald land.

You screech, your form flickering and appearing like a wraith in the mists, inspiring fear, and confusion. You hear Macha’s war cry through the rolling hills and your devotees are bolstered with strength. The opposing army is scattered and breaking.

Perhaps Lugh is right and Badb is wrong. Your People will win this battle of Faith. The natural order will continue. Your life will flourish with feasts and stones carved in your honor. Once the Invaders are gone, you will never need to enter the Dreaming again to try and scare them away.

A flash of lightning forks the sky overhead.

A strange, piercing sensation erupts along your stomach. You flounder, feet stumbling, and clutching your wet midsection with confusion. Your hands come away slick with warm blood. Impossible.

You are immortal. No mortal weapon fashioned against you can harm you.

Your eyes are wild. You lift your head from the wound and behold the sight of a golden Lugh standing in front of you. The sky, gray and menacing, flashes behind him as Men die around you. His spear glistens dark red with blood – your blood.

“It is not personal.” He says with a voice like booming thunder, “They have offered me a place among their saints.”

“You are a fool!” You spit blood at his feet. “I have seen into their dreams, Lugh. They have only one God. There will be no place for you.”

Pain. This is a new sensation and familiar only in how you’ve seen Humans experience it. It crawls up your torso with scalding heat and blazes with each inhale of your lungs.

Lugh shakes his head, almost sadly, and you reach – blind, like a child in the dark—for your sisters. You feel Badb circling overhead with a dozen other crows. You do not feel Macha.

Fear. No. You do not experience fear. You are a God. You are Neiman, The Fearless. You inspire fear, you do not feel it. Macha’s death is a possibility that you cannot fathom. Macha is life incarnate. She is the wild freedom of horses, the lush fertile land, and the fervor of lust.

If Lugh killed Macha, then you are going to rip out his innards and strangle him with them. You will force him to swallow his spear. A thousand deaths for him are conjured in the span of second. He will choke on his blood and his lies.

You scream, full of rage, of grief, the ground tremoring beneath your feet.

You lunge for Lugh with your hands transforming into sharp, bony claws. He stays out your reach, using his spear to defend himself, and cutting shallow marks across your palms and wrists. The clamor of battle rings like a death bell around you. The ravens scream with you.

You step backward, grimacing with bloodied teeth, and grip the knowledge Badb gave you.

You transform into a black wolf, twice the size of any man, and latch your jaws around the wooden shaft of Lugh’s spear. It splinters against your flat tongue and beneath your canine teeth.

Lugh shouts. He draws his sword and sinks it into your shoulder with a powerful thrust. You whimper, releasing the spear on instinct, and fall into the freezing mud as a human. The pain is excruciating. You’re dizzy with it. But there is no backing down, no graceful rerate.

You become a raven and fly at Lugh’s face, aiming your talons for his eyes, your wings beating furiously against the wind and water. His skin tears beneath your claws. There is a moment of Lugh’s desperate flailing. And it’s ripe with potential victory. You can blind Lugh and save Badb and Macha.

Yet, he strikes true with his sword above his head, clipping your wing, and you plummet into the earth with a screeching howl. The mud sticks onto your clothing, hair, and skin when your body reverts.

You wheeze, staring up at a weeping, gray sky, Badb’s ravens swoop through the streaks of lightning.

Lugh moves toward you with his sword in one hand and spear in the other. “They will never accept a God of Darkness in their new world.”

If Lugh is intending to kill you, then he will need to try harder than this.

Your blood boils hot. You dig your fingertips into the torn-apart ground and wobble unsteadily to your feet. Your shoulder and stomach and arms throb with agony as blood and rainwater sloughs across your skin. You do not run. You do not flee.

The battle is growing frenzied around you, leeching off the power that seeps from your essence, and Men become wrathful. They fight despite mortal wounds. Your rage, your fury, keeps them alive when they should’ve crossed over to the Otherworld.

Death itself will need to claim these souls.

“You cannot kill me.” You state coldly, remembering Badb’s prophecy. She said Morpheus will be your undoing. Badb does not lie. “My soul is not yours to claim. It belongs to another. A being far more powerful than you’ll ever be.”

Your vision swims. The visage of Lugh is doubled. He holds his spear, and it moves with unnatural, godly speed, and aims toward your throat. You brace yourself. A dark cloak shadows across your vision followed by a swirl of strange, sparkling sand.

Gods do not sleep. Yet, this sand scratches – rough and warm against your cheeks like the stubble of a lover -- and you find yourself dropped into oblivion.

#the sandman x reader #dream x reader #dream the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x fem!reader #morpheus x you #the sandman fic #ongoing fic #the sandman fanfic #fic: quiet fury #dream of the endless fic #dream of the endless x y/n #dream x fem!reader #dream x you #dream x y/n #the sandman

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