#green tree python symbolism

[quornesha]

Green Tree Python Prophecy And Symbolism

The Following Channel is from higher powers, Divine, the ancestral plane and is prophetic through Quornesha S. Lemon|

Whether the appears in dreams, visions, waking life or synchronicities, it is a sign and message that you are about to acquire territory, you are coming through the fire. Just like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, just like, Daniel, out of the lions den. I see 4 miracles ‘walking’ the sacred spirit is with you. Your enemies’ ancestors, their demons, their minions, all of it, will be yours, this is your birthright. What the enemy has tried to attack you with becomes your own. Your enemies have to beware, because, you are taking up real estate and the truth of the matter is, you own demons, this is so because you have fought your entire existence against the darkness that now, it is yours to command. It is already God alone, who gets the glory, but you will be acknowledged by the Divine.

It is time to rise now, the weapons the enemy owns, are about to become yours. I hear ownership. Territory. Real estate. Tell the enemy before you come at me, I own portions of hell. I own the demons, they don’t own me. I have a few of my own, so beware at what you throw, for you will reap it. Your enemies, are about to see the divine working on your behalf using the very thing they have drawn against you with. You have received more power from God, and wealth is coming into your life. This is the era where everything will go in your favor. You have authority over the fire, over the eath and you’re back on top of the world. The Green Tree Python is a prophecy that you have people irritated by your anointing. And they have been trying to bait you into an argument to get close to your energy. They are simply pathetic and you are simply the best.

Continue forward. This is not about clout for you, although this is a part of your reward. Do not allow yourself to get baited into arguments and conflict. Tell your enemies no thank you. You are flying high and are doing an impeccable job with serving your soul mission. You are an Eagle and one thing about an eagle, is that, you don’t fly below anyone’s radar. You soar without limits. There’s someone who is spiteful towards you without reason and their intentions are developing colon cancer in their body. This is the recipe for hate. Coming up against you without consent, furthermore without just cause. The Green Tree Python, is a prophecy that you are limitless and you are upsetting negative people. You are blinding out the evil eyes and shining anyway. You are intelligent and brilliant, extraordinary. You have a heightened gift of extra sensory perception and this power is elevating. You are sensitive to the voice of God/Divine. Over the coming days, you will learn or speak a single word. Literally. And something evading your space will quickly leave. The Green Tree Python is a prophecy that you have power over your enemies and you are utilizing your gift to the fullest.

There are about to occur a plethora of storms, including supercells and Derechos. The enemy is bringing down God’s wrath upon their own head. You wish for all people to be successful and there are foolish people who make themselves your enemy. You are about to conquer them all. Your enemies are about to witness you succeed on every level. For the enemy, they are operating out of greed. They have tried to come against you and what’s yours, and now God/Divine will take everything they have and add more to you just because. The Enemy is filled with such distaste for what Divine is doing in and through you and now, they lose it all. They should have walked away and stayed in their line. The Green Tree Python is a prophecy and symbol that someone evil is about to leave your life permanently. As they leave better people enter. The doorway to karmic relationships are now over. The delays, obstacles and setbacks are ending. The enemy has wanted to destroy you but are ending up with 7 targets on their backs at once. The voodoo spirits they use turn against them, the Christian witchcraft they used is now a trap they fall in. The enemy wanted you to feel irritated and anxious. Your life is turning around for the better. You are tapping into your ability to manifest with the power of your tongue and you are full power now. It will never be a dull moment in your life from this day forward.

You are also learning the power of humor and your timing is impeccable. They are calling you a sniper in the spirit. Because you’ll never miss. You are an assassin in the spirit, terminating your enemies and conquering territories. You have power over every creeping thing, everything that walks the earth, you have command over. You will have authority over snakes/serpents, spiritually and in the natural. God is walking with you. You are entering a period of absolution and 100% accuracy. You have power from pyramids and you are able to manifest all that you need. Whether financially, spiritually, emotionally, relational, or otherwise.

The enemy can turn a bling eye all they’d like to what you’re doing, but it will be that same eye, they’ll hope people can see through when them tables turn. Your enemies will be in the fire and will be hopeless because it’s a season of them becoming invisible and this is when the chaos erupts. They’ll call for help and help will be delayed. They’ll cry out for roadside assistance and it will be hours that they are stuck. Help will be blind to your enemies. As for you and your house, God’s eyes are watching over you all and help is on the way.

Continue to fly high, continue to rise, the Green Tree Python totem is looking out for you and you are about to receive some fortunate news that will be a relief to you and your family. Your life will be filled with good reports. The Hand of God/Divine is upon you. God is never early and never late, he is always on time. You are being exonerated in the spirit and it’s the high courts that have made this decision. Something in your life, will not even become a legal headache for you. Tell the enemy, to have several seats. God is so good and he always will be to you. Change is imminent and it is for your highest good. Your whole aura system is about to change. You have changed the heart of an extremist and they are lowering their ‘weapons’ and walking away with their head bowed down. It is you that holds the victory.

This message isn't, obviously resonant with all whose paths it crosses, as perhaps you may encounter someone of this vernacular, mastery or skill. Therefore, it is a sign from the universe that you're meant to work with such a person. 

Need further clarity or your own queries answered? Book your own reading as my schedule is full and I do not guarantee a reply on social media regarding this post.

If this is not you, then it is time to get clear to rejoin your tribe or the rest of the world of infinite beings. It's time to bring your light to the forefront. However, if you aren't able to invoke, heal or otherwise on your own, call on the assistance of shamans, healers, intuitive people, etc. to assist you. This synchronicity can possibly have specific meanings for you, it's time to get insight. 

The Gift that Quornesha Has can never be duplicated, She is a Shaman, Writer, Healer,  And Teacher with incredible prophetic/healing gifts. Please do not infringe upon her rights as the author. You are not permitted to reuse, nor are you to sale as you wish. This information has been made available to you for the purpose of introduction and demonstration. All rights reserved. If you'd like to use this in a magazine, online publication, or other, please ask for permission first. Legal actions will be taken if you proceed to impose. Be blessed, bless others and be at peace on your journey. What you do is coming back on you. Make sure that it is good, and all is well within you, through you and around you.  The source sees all and knows what you think it does not. 

[differentsoulsweets]

Apollo

Απολλων [Apollo] God of prophecy and oracles, music, song and poetry, archery, healing, plague and disease

Epithets: ⟡ Proopsios [Foreseeing] ⟡ Phoibos [Bright] ⟡ Akestor [Healer] ⟡ Alexikakos [Averter of Evil] ⟡ Theoxenios [ God of Foreigners ] ⟡ Pythios [Slayers of Python] ⟡ Chrusaor [Of Golden Sword] ⟡ Daphnephorios [Bearer of Laurels] ⟡ Loimios [ Deliverer from Pague] ⟡ Moiragetes [Leader of Fate] ⟡ Pagasios [Pagasaean] ⟡ Hekaergos [Far-shooting]

Domains: ⟡ Prophecy & Oracles ⟡ Light ⟡ Music & Arts ⟡ Song & poetry ⟡ Archery ⟡ Healing & medicine ⟡ Plague & Disease ⟡ Protection of the young ⟡ Boys ⟡ Sudden Death ⟡ Knowledge ⟡ Herds & Flocks ⟡ Protector of Fugitives

Devotional acts: ⟡ Donate to medical charities ⟡ Draw or Paint ⟡ Read poetry or listen to music ⟡ Sing or play an instrument ⟡ Go to the library

Associations

Symbol: ⟡ The Lyre ⟡ Silver bow & Arrows ⟡ Dolphins ⟡ Swans ⟡ Crows ⟡ Ravens ⟡ Lions ⟡ Wolves ⟡ Mice ⟡ Griffins ⟡ Hawks ⟡ Snakes ⟡ Laurel wreath ⟡ Fire / flame ⟡ The sun / Light ⟡ Tripod ⟡ Apples

Element: ⟡ Light

Color: ⟡ Orange ; yellow ; Gold ⟡ Red ⟡ Pure white ⟡ Pink ⟡ Purple ⟡ Green ⟡ Blue

Crystals & stones: ⟡ Sunstone ⟡ Amber ⟡ Honey ; Yellow Calcite ⟡ Rutilated ; Clear ; Rose quartz

Fruits,Vegetables,Flowers,Herbs: ⟡ Cypress ⟡ Laurel ⟡ Larkspur ⟡ The-apple-tree ⟡ The palm tree ⟡ Hyacinth

Animal: ✧Swan ⟡ Raven ⟡ Tortoise ⟡ Serpent ⟡ Wolf ⟡ Dolphin ⟡ Mouse

Incense: ✧ Bay ⟡ Frankincense ⟡ Cypress

Food & Drinks: ⟡ Red wine ⟡ Olive oil ⟡ Water ⟡ Fruit ⟡ Honey ⟡ Almonds ⟡ Citruses ⟡ Cinnamon ⟡ Coffee ⟡ Herbal tea with Honey cakes ⟡ Bay leaves ⟡ Anise

Day, Season, Time of Day: ✧ Sunday ⟡ Middsummer ⟡ Midday ⟡ May

Tarot: ✧ The Sun ⟡ The chariot ⟡ Strength ⟡ Temperance

[bisclavret]

arthurian cinema: a vibe collection

my rule of thumb when it comes to watching movies is "must a movie be 'good'? is it not enough for it to have a bit of a weird/trippy/artsy/horny/allegorical/gay vibe?" and thank god for that because arthurian cinema has this sort of vibe in spades! so here's an assortment of some arthurian films i've seen + a reason or two why they passed my nebulous yet specific vibe check:

lancelot du lac 1974 is my #1 forever for the doomed repressed symbolism-soaked post-grail pre-camlann so-rigid-it's-camp atmosphere and the interpersonal dynamics between lancelot guinevere and gauvain the likes of which i haven't seen anywhere else outside of the texts

tristan et iseult 1972 is really just avant-garde performance art + the surviving copy is really rank which adds a je ne sais quoi... and congrats to tristan on his top surgery!

morgane et ses nymphes for the "my lesbian roadtrip led me to morgan le fay's realm and now she's obsessed with me" plot and the dreamy hazy eurotrash energies

perceval le gallois 1978 has such kitschy surrealist teletubbies-esque visuals that it has nearly defeated me. i still haven't finished it. it's rare that a film feels like an assault on my eyeballs and yet i am compelled and i cannot look away

sir gawain and the green knight 2002 is a strangely horny stained glass animation that will give you motion sickness while saying bi rights over and over and over. it feels like a religious sunday cartoon. it won a bafta

the buried giant – a beautifully atmospheric novel in its own right – is getting adapted into a stop motion film soon! i already know it will earn a spot on this list so consider this a place-holder

the green knight 2021 for the giants scene (and the 360-degree sequence of a tied-up gawain Losing The Game)

a knight's tale entirely because they dance to bowie's golden years

knightriders for the most charming merlin design i've ever seen and also for the whole knights jousting on motorbikes concept

monty python and the holy grail for just about everything but above all else the bit where they're animated and then the animator abruptly dies of a heart attack and then they stop being animated

excalibur 1981 for everything as well but i cannot overstate the effect lancelot's dream where he wrestles his armor and homoerotically un-stabs himself had on me. i will never shut up about it

king arthur: legend of the sword just kidding i haven't seen this nor do i intend to. i'm just enamored with this 2-second shot of a tree girl and her tree titties and i think that everyone should witness her

[talonabraxas]

“Perhaps the commonest dream symbol of transcendence is the snake, as represented by the therapeutic symbol of the Roman god of medicine Aesclepius, which has survived to modern times as a sign of the medical profession. This was originally a nonpoisonous tree snake; as we see it, coiled around the staff of the healing god, it seems to embody a kind of mediation between earth and heaven.” -Carl Jung, Man and his Symbols Green Tree Python Rachel Newling

[tiredsurvivoronmain]

WIP of mutated Wesker. Finally settled on a full design for him after months.

There's a lot going on with him biologically, anatomically and symbolically which I'll talk about another time.

Inspirations for him: - Sea slugs - Leeches - Green Tree Python - Elephant Trunk Snake - Dragonfish - Tiger Jaws Succulent - Parasitoid Wasps - Ribbon Worms - Sleeper Shark (or rather the parasites you see on them) - Sea Lions - Mudskippers

[homestuck-human-generator]

Name: Ms. Tony Dustin Color: Unmellow Yellow #Ffff66 Symbol: Loquat Strife Specibus: throwingstarkind Handle: typicalGalliard Animal: mountain goat Pronouns: he/him Age: 29 Birthday: 264th day of the year Sexuality: yeah. Interests: paragliding and orienteering Dream Moon: prospit Classpect: Bard of Heart Land: Land of Clockwork and Amethyst, a fragile place, with loathesome Green Tree Python consorts. It is a place full of cities and cities. Cetus lurks. Instrument: shawm

[deitiesmasterlist]

Goddesses

Achlys : Goddess of poisons, and the personification of misery and sadness.

Amphitrite : Goddess of the sea.

Ananke : Goddess of destiny, fatality and necessity.

Aphrodite : Goddess of beauty, love, desire, and pleasure. Symbols : myrtle, roses, scallop shell, doves and sparrows.

Artemis : Goddess of the hunt, wilderness, animals, the Moon and young girls. Symbols : hunting spears, animal pelts, deer.

Athena : Goddess of reason, wisdom, intelligence, skill, peace, warfare, battle strategy, and handicrafts. Symbols : olive tree, owl.

Asteria : Goddess of nocturnal oracles and falling stars.

Brizo : Patron goddess of sailors, who sent prophetic dreams.

Ceto : Goddess of the dangers of the ocean and of sea monsters.

Chaos : personification of nothingness, origins of existence.

Demeter : Goddess of grain, agriculture, harvest, growth, and nourishment. Symbols : cornucopia, wheat-ears, the winged serpent, and the lotus staff, pigs and snakes.

Eos : Goddess of the dawn.

Eirene : Goddess of peace.

Eunomia : Goddess of law and legislation and spring-time goddess of green pastures.

Gaia : Goddess of earth, mother of the titans.

Harmonia : Goddess of harmony and concord.

Hekate : Goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, moon, ghosts, and necromancy. Symbols : torches, key, snakes, dogs.

Hemera : The goddess of day.

Hera : Queen of the gods, and goddess of marriage, women, childbirth, heirs, kings, and empires. Symbols : diadem, heifer, peacock, and cuckoo.

Hestia : Goddess of the hearth, home, domesticity and chastity. Symbols : hearth and kettle.

Leto : Goddess of motherhood.

Macaria : Goddess of blessed death.

Metis : Goddess of good counsel, advice, planning, cunning, craftiness, and wisdom. Mother of Athena.

Mnemosyne : Goddess of memory and remembrance, and mother of the Nine Muses.

Nemesis : Goddess of revenge, balance, righteous indignation, and retribution Symbols : whip, dagger.

The Nesoi : The goddesses of islands.

Nike : Goddess of victory

Nyx : The goddess of night.

Persephone : Queen of the underworld, wife of Hades and goddess of spring growth

Phoebe : Goddess of the "bright" intellect and prophecy, and consort of Coeus.

The Potamoi : Gods of rivers and streams of the earth.

Rhea : Goddess of fertility, motherhood and the mountain wilds.

Selene : Goddess of the moon.

Styx : Goddess of the Underworld river Styx and personification of hatred.

Tethys : Goddess of fresh-water, and the mother of the rivers, springs, streams, fountains, and clouds.

Thalassa : Goddess of the sea.

Theia : Goddess of sight and the shining light of the clear blue sky.

Themis : Goddess of divine law and order.

Tyche : goddess of fortune, chance, providence, and fate.

Gods

Aether : The god of light and the upper atmosphere.

Aion : The god of eternity, personifying cyclical and unbounded time.

Anteros : God of requited love.

Apollo : God of music, arts, knowledge, healing, plague, prophecy, poetry, manly beauty, and archery. Symbols : laurel wreath, bow and arrow, lyre, roe deer, swans, and pythons.

Ares : God of courage, war, bloodshed, and violence. Symbols: helmet, spade, sword, vultures, venomous snakes, dogs, and boars.

Astraeus : God of dusk, stars, and planets, and the art of astrology.

Chronos : The god of empirical time.

Coeus : God of intellect and the axis of heaven around which the constellations revolved.

Crius : God of constellations.

Cronus : God of harvests and personification of destructive time.

Dionysus : God of wine, fruitfulness, parties, festivals, madness, chaos, drunkenness, vegetation, ecstasy, and the theater. Symbols : thyrsus, drinking cup, grape vine, crown of ivy, dolphins, serpents, tigers, and donkeys.

Epimetheus : God of afterthought and the father of excuses.

Erebus : God of darkness and shadow.

Eros : God of love, attraction and sexual intercourse.

Hades : King of the underworld, the dead and wealth. Symbols : drinking horn or cornucopia, key, sceptre, the three-headed dog Cerberus, screech owl.

Hedylogos : God of sweet talk and flattery.

Helios : God of the sun and guardian of oaths.

Hephaestus : God of fire, metalworking, and crafts. Symbols : hammer, anvil, donkey, fire.

Hermaphroditus : God of unions, androgyny, marriage, sexuality and fertility.

Hermes : God of boundaries, travel, trade, communication, language, writing, cunning and thieves. Symbols : herald's wand or caduceus, winged sandals, traveler's cap, tortoise.

Hymen : God of marriage ceremonies, inspiring feasts and song.

Hyperion : God of light.

Hypnos : God of sleep.

Iapetus : God of mortality

Menoetius : God of violent anger, rash action, and human mortality.

Ouranos : God of the heavens and the sky.

The Ourea : The gods of mountains.

Pallas : God of warcraft.

Perses : God of destruction.

Phanes : The god of procreation.

Phorcys : God of the hidden dangers of the deep.

Photos : God of sexual longing, yearning, and desire.

Pontus : The god of the sea, father of the fish and other sea creatures.

Poseidon : God of the sea, rivers, floods, droughts, and earthquakes, king of the sea and the waters. Symbols : trident, horse and dolphin.

Prometheus : God of forethought and crafty counsel, and creator of mankind.

Proteus : Shape-shifting, prophetic old sea god.

Zeus : King of the gods, ruler of Mount Olympus, and god of the sky, weather, thunder, lightning, law, order, and justice. Symbols : royal scepter, lightning bolt, eagle and bull.

Tartarus : The god of the deepest, darkest part of the underworld, the Tartarean pit.

Thanatos : God of death.

[gizkasparadise]

Here’s a fun one

Feel free to add gifs!

Top 10 deus ex machina scenes

And top 10 symbolism scenes (ya’ll know the camera panning to couples rings in flower of evil was no coincidence and I loved the symbolism behind it)

oh man i had to think for this one lol!

top 10 deus ex machina

one of my favorite movies of all time, stranger than fiction, has the writer intentionally put a deus ex machina (the watch) at the end to save harold

monty python and the holy grail's cops! ending is pretty iconic

the scene from battlestar galactica, where the piano notes from "all along the watchtower" are the secret coordinates to earth, could be read as a DEM but ugh the chills i get from that sequence!!!

the ending to mass effect 3 plays with this convention and idgaf i loved the ending

the spaghetti sauce dollars in the bear

can i just say the entirety of final fantasy x because it plays with and deconstructs that trope SO WELL

im honestly blanking i dont think i can do 10 IM SORRY !!

top 10 symbolism scenes: drama edition!

to include Visual Metaphors & Motifs as well

one spring night: dinosaur sticker!!

jeon in gives ji ho, a single dad, a wordless confession by showing him that her phone now has a dinosaur sticker on it-- his son gave her a sheet of them earlier in the episode. when she shows it to him he has to sit down because he’s so overwhelmed and it just warms my heaaaart peak romance

-

someday or one day: headphones

lol im beginning to think it’s impossible for me to have any “Top __” list without someday or one day BUT the use of headphones to represent the red string of fate is so great and subtle throughout the series (especially since the time travel mechanic is a song)

-

goblin: color stories (red, blue, green)

goblin is so cinematically gorgeous, but i especially love the use of color to represent different narrative arcs/journeys

red: for samshin/life, blue: the deity/danger, and green: for regret/longing

-

hotel del luna & love between fairy and devil: flowering trees

i did a post on this one, but the use of a dead tree slowly blooming over the narrative to represent people with deep emotional pain healing is just a *chef’s kiss*

--

chuno: open vests to symbolize closed hearts :’D

costume designer #1: “okay this guy has been through literal hell and is now a feral wreck of a human. how do we represent that visually?”

costume designer #2: “open vest, no shirt”

(”but gizka, that’s not a metaphor” um you’ll notice he starts wearing layers again once he reunites with his lost love SO I THINK THE FUCK SO)

-

beyond evil: handshakes

the show does an excellent job of establishing the changing character relationships and development through the use of the handshake and its increasing intimacy (on a scale of “no touch” to “let me weep over your chained hands” how wrecked is our second male lead??)

-

chicago typewriter: the watch

okay this one is so heavy-handed it’d sink to the bottom of the river, but sometimes the best visual metaphor is the most straightforward: the pocket watch that makes its way to all of the main trio at various points in the story and represents the burdens they can’t move on from

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reply series: cigarettes

who’s the husband? the one that smokes! just an interesting pattern across entries. i think it’s intentionally lampshaded in reply 1988 when at the beginning of the drama everyone thinks sun woo smokes but it turns out he doesn’t

-

various series, but especially 18 again: the one wet shoulder

umbrella scenes are Staples in kdrama, but whenever the camera focuses in on The One Wet Shoulder of whoever’s holding the umbrella it always kills me. SUPER killed me in 18 again, where the scene shows the dad getting drenched in the rain in order to make sure the umbrella is covering his twins

-

various series: the male lead shower of contemplation

just watched the female love interest go out on a date with the new hotshot businessman/talent acquisitions agent even though you’ve been her childhood friend for a decade? plotting revenge against an evil conglomerate and/or organized crime ring who murdered your first love? unearthed a tragic birth secret that upends everything you’ve ever known? sounds like you’re in need of a male lead shower of contemplation to literally and figuratively wash away your thoughts and/or steam in vengeance 

[twistedtummies2]

Moriarty the Animal

So, a couple of people - including @belliesandburps - asked me how I would cast an “anthro-ified” take on Moriarty the Patriot. We’ve all seen movies and books where anthropomorphic animals take on the roles typically personified by humans; Disney’s Robin Hood is probably the most famous example, where Robin is a fox, Prince John is a lion, the Sheriff is a wolf, and so on. A couple people wondered what I would do if I created some sort of similar universe, and turned all the characters from Moriarty the Patriot into animal figures.

So, here are the animals I would use for these anthros…

For William and Louis, I would choose Abyssinian cats. For all the visual symbolism of spiders, I always felt there was something distinctly cat-like about the Moriarty brothers in the series, especially with sweet William. Something about the way the good Professor moves and talks and just looks, overall, feels very feline in nature. There are no blonde cats, as far as I’m aware, but Abyssinians are known for their sleek, lithe frameworks and short, tawny coats, which - under the right light - can actually look very close to the golden hair we know both brothers for. Similarly, I would make Albert a Havana brown: similar body structure, but now with a rich brown coat that would match his own hair in the series.

For Sherlock Holmes and his brother, Mycroft, I would choose Black Labrador Retrievers. Black Labs are typically used and bred as hunting dogs, which obviously fits Sherlock, in particular, to a tea. Between the two, I would say Holmes would have a slightly shaggier coat than Mycroft, who would be more sleek and svelte, to match the differences in their characters. Making Holmes a big black dog also fits his color scheme in the show, and makes for a great contrast to Moriarty the Mystery Cat.

Dr. Watson I see as a rabbit. I’m not exactly sure why, but I guess there’s just something sort of rabbity about John, so to speak. And again, it makes for a great contrast when you pair him up with Holmes the Labrador. Similarly, I can see Miss Hudson as an anthropomorphic rodent: a mouse. This is because she sort of reminds me of Mallymkun, the Dormouse from the Tim Burton Alice movies, in terms of her getup…and also because I just think the idea of a cute mouse in pink yammering at and beating up Sherlock is just kind of hilarious, to be honest. Plus, there’s just something sort of “busybodying” about a mouse that I think would fit Miss Hudson in some odd way.

At Scotland Yard, I can see Inspector Lestrade as a bloodhound, with Gregson as a boxer, and Patterson as an English pointer. Arterton, the corrupt Chief Inspector during the Ripper case, I can see as a big, blustery bulldog. Adam Whiteley, the tragic MP, I can see as a white lion: lions, of course, are iconic in England, and are typically seen as regal, majestic creatures - Kings of Beasts. Making him a white lion shows how rare he is and helps to further that “white knight” image that inevitably ends up tarnished.

On that note, Charles Augustus Milverton is the only reptile of the group. He is undoubtedly a snake, and that’s not a far leap to make: in both the original Conan Doyle books and the series itself, serpent imagery is used with him a lot: he has snake eyes, elongated fangs, greenish hair, etc. It fits the cold-blooded, slippery cad to a tea. If I had to choose a specific species, I would say a Green Tree Python. His three henchmen would all be primates: Gosling would be a big, gruff gorilla, Harry a demented little spider monkey, and Ruskin a medium-sized chimpanzee.

Irene Adler/James Bonde would be a Golden Labrador Retriever. I like the idea of Irene being the same species as Sherlock, and again, the hunting dog aspect would be useful once they become Mr. Bonde. Von Herder, a.k.a. Q, I can see as a bat of some sort (partially because the whole “blind as a bat�� joke writes itself). Miss Moneypenny doesn’t appear in the anime, but she is in the manga quite a bit; since she has to disguise herself at one point as James Bonde (and does a bang up job at it), I suppose, by default, that means she would have to be a Golden Labrador Retriever as well, perhaps with paler fur and a smaller build.

Sebastian Moran is a grizzled gray wolf, and Jack the Ripper would undoubtedly be a sly ol’ silver fox. It took me a while to figure out, but I decided Fred Porlock would be a lovely little ferret. First of all, there’s alliteration there with Fred the Ferret, and that’s always cool, but I think making him a warm-blooded creature with certain serpentine elements would be fitting, given his skills and personality.

Something I love about this, that I didn’t realize till I finished, is that ALL of Moriarty’s team are made up of predatory species: cats, dogs, wolves, foxes, ferrets, and if one makes Von Herder’s bat a vampire bat or a bug-eater, he’d fit there, too. In contrast, the specific trio of Holmes, Watson, and Miss Hudson on Baker Street consists of only one predatory species, with the other two being typically herbivorous. In fact, when it comes to prey species, mice and rabbits are about as low as it gets on the food chain. There’s something about that dichotomy and the way it can reflect the two sides of the conflict that I rather like. I didn’t intend it that way, but I think it’s good to have it. And again, making all of these characters, with all their shades of gray, into mammalian species makes for a great contrast to the reptilian Milverton.

There are, of course, lots of characters not covered here, mostly in the form of oneshot villains and a couple of minor supporting roles. But I think this covers most of the major players in the cast seen in the anime (and Moneypenny, poor dear), so let me know what you all think! :)

[kneesheee]

here comes the bind

Day Four: Soulmates | Wedding

The day was finally here.

The day of the JayKyle wedding.

Apollo and Aphrodite were currently riding around in his chariot scaring the living hell out of everyone. No one had seen the gods of beauty this angry since Apollo killed Python and Aphrodite was torturing Psyche. The two of them were supposed to be helping their children get ready, but the day had to be perfect. That meant everyone needed to get with the program.

The chosen location wasn’t Themyscira or Bana-Mighdall. It wasn’t anywhere in LA, Gotham or Ireland. It wasn’t anywhere in Greece or Rome. It wasn’t even on Olympus.

No, they decided to host the wedding on Outlaw Island.

[They made sure to invite everyone even Eris. No one wanted a repeat of the Trojan War.]

The Fates were sitting in their own section ready to show off the life strings of the two demigods. [The news that they were preparing to give was going to be a shocker.]

The gods that each a hand in raising the boys and watching them grow sat near the front. Hera would be the one marrying the two. The Outlaws would have sat behind them if not for being members of the wedding party. Their mortal families [which for Kyle meant the Lanterns] sat behind them. Kyle’s sat on the left while Jason’s sat on the right. It was to represent the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. There had been quite a commotion when Bruce realized that he was going to be sat near Talia. Only to then throw an even bigger fit when he realized that she came before him in the lineup. (His feelings will be so hurt when he realized the most important part.] Right behind their mortal families sat the Amazons who all had a hand in training the boys. Each side of them. Scattered throughout the rest of the seats were other members of the pantheon and the Justice League. They were seated by their level of importance to the couple (a lot of members of the Justice League and various assassins and aliens were seated near the back).

Demeter and Dionysus grew apple, myrtle, and laurel trees before morphing them into archways. There was backdrop of the couple’s favorite hill where one could look over the sea point out where the sun connects.

Poseidon pulled seashell from the sea up to create the walkway. Bust of the gods were dotted around the seating area.

Hera sniffed a little disdainfully, “We were going to do a traditional Hellenic wedding, but the boys wanted to modernize it. Luckily, we managed to get most of everything done, so now we can begin the service.”

She gave her stepson a look and Apollo began to sing while the Muses harmonized with him. Smiles lit up everyone’s face to hear the pure joy and love in the father’s voice. He was nothing if not lovable. The mortals swayed on their feet due to the divine energy spreading throughout the song. It took everything in their power and then some to keep them seated.

Suddenly, another voice began to sing, and everyone turned to look. Draped in a cream chiton with a golden chlamys around him, Jason looked like red headed version of his father before him. His freckles stood out on his skin. The black dye was fading away at the ends of his hair. The symbol of the lyre was on a band wrapped around his arm. Laurel leaves were braided into his hair. His blue green eyes had a ring of gold surrounding them as he smiled ecstatically. On his arm was Talia who smirked smugly at Bruce as she walked her son down the aisle. She was wearing a pale gold peplos with her hair falling into princess curls. She smiled lovingly at him when she had to let him go, giving him a kiss on the forehead, before moving on to her seat. Jason continued to sing alongside his father who had tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

The sound of giggling could be heard before Lian Harper skipped out into the party. Persephone had braided flowers into her hair while giving her seeds of rose and hyacinth. Every time the little girl threw to the ground said flower burst into full bloom, yet the scent never smelled too much nor appalling.

Another beat passed before Kyle appeared dressed in a salmon himation. Jason audibly gasped at the sight and Kyle froze for half a second after seeing him. Giggles could be heard from their friends and the nymphs at the two’s reaction. Hal had to tug on Kyle’s hand to get him moving.  Myrtle leaves had been braided into Kyle’s hair giving him a look almost like the nymphs. His tanned legs were long and true with rose wrapped around his ankles before tying around his sandals. His iridescent eyes looked like rainbow prisms flashing a deep pink and blue and indigo. Jason’s heart skipped a beat. He could stare in Kyle’s eyes until the end of time and still never have enough of them.

Apollo and the Muses’ song slowed to a stop as the two made it to the end. Hal smiled at Kyle like a proud father before patting him on the shoulder. He would’ve ruffled his hair if it weren’t for the way that Aphrodite was glaring daggers with a smile on her face.

The couple stood before each other in front of the High Queen. The Goddess of Marriage. She smiled at them both. She remembered the wide-eyed looks both gave when they had been first introduced to the family. She remembered the light blushes on each of their cheeks. The first thing Jason had said was that she was pretty, and Kyle had immediately ignored everyone as he began to sketch her right then and there. They had followed all of them around like little ducklings whenever the two were on Olympus. Kyle with his mother and Jason with the Amazons.

Hera will admit if only to herself that she had thought that Jason would end up with Artemis from Bana-Mighdall. At least until she realized that the girl wasn’t interested in boys and that Jason saw her as another sister figure. She had also thought that Kyle would end up with Jessica once the female lantern came around, but the two of them had a close familial bond that warmed Hera’s heart.

The ceremony passed in a blur for the two boys as they stared each other in the eyes. Hera’s words being tuned out as Kyle felt the love that Jason held for him [though it was tinged with something else. Something a little darker.] and Jason could see their future together [though it faded a little around the edges like an old movie].

Their vows had been short and sweet as their guests stared in awe at the sight of the boys’ essences began blend around them. Hera was going all out for everyone to see how beautiful and wonderful the two were.

Hera smiled with a teeth and threatening eyes as she looked out into the crowd, “If anyone objects to this union, please speak now or forever hold your piece.” Everyone glanced nervously at each other while Apollo, Aphrodite, Hal, and Talia calmly fingered their weapons.

“We do,” three voices stated together. Everyone turned in shock to look at who would be foolish enough to go against the very protective wedding party. Jaws dropped as they took in the sight of the Morai.

Clotho was holding onto a life string that was so slowly unraveling, “They are soulmates,” Clotho stated. “A bond more beautiful and truer than Helen and Paris. Yet, just like those two… their lives are doom due to outside influences interfering with their bond.”

Apollo and Aphrodite started to glow with rage. Even their anger paled in contrast with Hera’s. She planned this wedding from top to bottom. Not a single thing was to go wrong. Yet, the fates were here to tell them that their efforts were for nothing. They would ruin this occasion. The three of them began to yell loudly.

“What outside influence? We all made sure to be careful and abide by your rules,” Hera snarled. She began to glow with power. Every mortal around senses began to go off screaming danger.

Lachesis only stared at her as Apollo and Aphrodite were being held back and comforted. Even Bruce and Dick had gotten over themselves to keep Talia pinned in place. This was her son’s wedding. Hal was being held the combine willpower of the other Lanterns and the Flash [Barry and Wally]. It wouldn’t be the first time the Fates were faced with a god’s [and mortals’] anger nor would it be the last. “On the day of Kyle’s proposal, Jason managed to nick himself with one of Eros’ arrows. One of his most famed love arrows. Apollyon, you know how it feels. The cut may have healed, but that does not mean the effects were gone. And such, Kyle himself managed to accidently cut himself when returning said arrows. Why do you think Eros has disappeared?”

She was right. Eros and Psyche were gone. No one knew where they went. Kyle had been so sad to know that his favored brother wouldn’t even attend his wedding. There had been a lot of tears and anger and yells when Kyle realized that.

Atropos rose a brow, “You should all figure out a way to fix this. This is not love anymore. And you, Aphrodite knows what happens when a child a love cannot feel.”

Aphrodite did know. Her baby wouldn’t die. No, he would fade away. He would slowly lose all motor function. Then his mind will begin to break slowly. Slowly but surely, his heart will stop pumping blood until it stops completely. He would be paper thin in touch with only the slightest contact leaving his skin to peel away like ash. She felt sick. She couldn’t believe she was going through this again.

Jason had noticed that Kyle seemed different. His bright eyes were look dull and blank. His evenly spread tan seemed as if the color was seeping right out of him. Even with Apollo’s essence healing him from inside out… Kyle just seemed so drained. Jason had thought it was stress from the wedding. Kyle had been filled with nerves. He threw up on every other occasion. But now--- he was a child of love. He was a Lantern. He couldn’t not feel love. It was impossible. Kyle had to feel. He was one of the most expressive people that Jason knew. Every ring that he wielded could be traced back to love. It was why Jason always said that Aphrodite was the most powerful of the Olympians.

Jason turned to look at Kyle when he felt something shift. His teal eyes met with Kyle’s and suddenly, Jason felt this uncontrollable hunger. He loved Kyle. He needed Kyle. He could see the same desire running through Kyle’s tired eyes.

Something must have shown on his face because as soon as he began to lunge for Kyle, Talia tackled him to the ground. Aphrodite yanked Kyle away from the altar as if he was giant cat. The two of them struggled to get to each other.

Before Kyle seemed to freeze before turning away and vomiting right on the ground. Specks of blood appeared, and Aphrodite cried out in shock. Jason could only stare in horror.

Again?

Kyle was dying.

[firstginger]

Hi! I took your quiz, beautifully done, and I was wondering if you could help me explore a bit more? I got a Kangaroo, but as someone who is INFJ-T, Type 4, and a pretty anxious individual, I was a bit surprised! I'm a Sagittarius, but I find I often fit Scorpios more. Are there other forms you'd suggest for me? Pullman and analysis based?

hey there! i agree that a kangaroo does seem off-base for you. coincidentally i just did a write-up for an INFJ 4 who also got a marsupial here and you may find that helpful! definitely check out domestic cat forms, which i think might fit you very well.

otherwise you sound like maybe you’d fit some species of possum better? honestly the pygmy possum (introverted, socially tolerant, sensitive, anxious, accepting, hardworking, plans ahead, flexible, perfectionistic, obsessive, curious, prone to burnout, empathetic, passive, timid, passive, unobtrusive) sounds like it could be pretty similar to you. ringtail possums are also worth a look; they tend to be more group-oriented and less high strung than the pygmy possum, though still rather anxious and guarded people. the common ringtail (socially selective, group-oriented, slow to trust, laid back, devoted, loyal, communicative, unobtrusive, unambitious, low energy, perfectionistic, cooperative, plans ahead, habitual, sensitive) and rock-haunting ringtail (socially selective, group-oriented, slow to trust, loyal, devoted, wary, avoidant, alert, paranoid, anxious, communicative, honest, plans ahead, cautious, caring and nurturing, conflict-avoidant) are good options.

other than marsupials, you could try looking at some species of deer! for example the hog deer (independent and more loosely social, still very willing to be cooperative, self-preserving, aware and alert, plans ahead, boundary-keeping, expressive and communicative, hard-headed, high strung and anxious as most deer species are) or pampas deer (socially flexible, selectively loyal, open-minded, friendly, tactful, aware, socially savvy and can be manipulative, conflict-avoidant, dedicated, high standards, protective, altruistic, competitive, habitual, curious) could be worth a look.

honestly though the INFJ 4 reminds me so much of snakes! so many species are emblematic of that rather independent but calm, tolerant, and tactful personality; just by their nature, people with snake daemons are so often unobtrusive people, and generally extremely sensitive and aware. this intuition makes them exceptionally understanding and perceptive. check out the��green tree python (independent and withdrawn, passive, observant, very sensitive, internal, private and guarded, conflict-avoidant, habitual, plans ahead, patient, passive, calm, can be manipulative), rat snake (introverted, socially tolerant, flexible, adaptable, highly sensitive, conflict-avoidant, easy-going, low energy, can be manipulative, empathetic, confident, calm, tactful, open-minded, determined), or diamond python (introverted and independent, conflict-avoidant and unobtrusive, patient, assertive when pushed, protective, rather aloof, adaptable and opportunistic, prefers a comfort zone, socially tolerant, plans ahead, opportunistic, perceptive, careful).

as far as pullman forms... it’s a little harder to do these just based off of personality type because there’s a lot of symbolism that goes into them. like what sort of motifs you gravitate towards and what biomes you find yourself most at home within. rabbits and hares might not be a bad place to start looking? hares are more bold and self-sufficient than rabbits, but both of these are going to be highly vigilant, clever, and hasty people, with a large dose of anxiety, nervousness, and flightiness. or honestly the domestic cat again may be worth a look, if you’re someone who gravitates more towards independence, pride, and self-preservation, with an interest in occultism or unconventional interests.

hope this helped!!

[hydralisk98]

The Imaginary World of ______ by Keri Smith (Module 0x000; aka the database)

Brainstorm:

The Alchemist

pfsrd

D&D 5e

Loups-Garous de Thiercelieux

UNO & DOS

XXIIVV’s Paradise & “Parade”

Portal 2

Portal Stories: Mel

Half-Life as of Epistle 3

Alien

Pokemon

A bag full of apples

Winnie the Pooh (Soviet Union)

Alternate futures and histories from other planets

Mark Rosenfelder

Sabaton

Rammstein

Eminem

Beatles

Neumond Recordings

Bee Gees

Black Sabbath

EU4 OST

Hans Zimmer

Kenji Kawai

Christian Clermont

Disco

Xerox

Commodore

IBM

DEC

HP

60s-70s Quebec’s cultural revolution

Windows 3.11

1910-1925 era

World War 1 and resulting civil war type of conflicts

Wolfenstein: the New Order

Retrocomputing culture

Soviet cartoons

History

Enlightenment eras (~1755 onward)

Socrates, Plato, Aristotle aka philosophy as a rational discipline

Subliminals community

Plushies’ textures

Moderate socialism

Central europe’s rural areas

Nineveh

Nimrud

S-expressions

Lisp programming languages

Assembly

ALGOL

C

Julia

Python

Rust

British Colombia climate

Montreal and its suburbs

Wien

Paris

Villages/Towns

Turkish Angora Cats

Tigers

Bears

Lizards

Insects

Ancient Mesopotamia’s wardrobes

Old china culture

Japanese Meiji Imperial Era

Symbols

Latin

Ancient Greek

Old Assyrian

Sumerian

Proto-Celtic

Breton

Proto-Uralic

Hungarian

French

German

Portuguese

Spanish?

English?!

Building blocks

Autism

Calm noise soundscape

Keycaps’ typing sounds

Old computers’ sounds

Beavers

Furrets

2000s cartoons

Adult Swim

Underground cultures

Goths

Wicca

Grunge

Vintage

Dumb terminals

Pocket calculators

Home computers

Old mainframes

AI service grid

The two first “Indochina” wars

Memes

Gen Z

Text adventure games

Telex

COMECON trade

Medieval intellectuals

ZX Spectrum

IRC chatrooms

MU* games

Top down grand strategy games and rogue-like RPGs

Nuclear warfare

PDP-8

PDP-11

PDP-15

VAX

Robotron

Zachtronics TIS-100

Sid Meier’s Civilization V

Paradox Interactive’s Europa Universalis III & IV

Hypnospace Outlaw

Pen & paper games

4D toys

Baba Is You

Terraria

Counter-Strike

Call of Duty World at War

Kerbal Space Program

The Stanley Parable

Quake/Half-Life 1

Rene Magritte

Dwarf Fortress

Sandstorm

Powerwolf

Dragonforce

Manowar

Minecraft

Open source community

Linux Mint

Debian

KDE

Solaris

FreeBSD

FreeDOS

Inferno OS

Plan 9

Rudy

Amber

Olive green

Sea blue

Salamanders

Groundhogs

Abstract syntax trees of lexers and compilers

Oracles

Wizards

Shapeshifters

Sea fleets

Land armies

Modern warfare

Guerrilla culture

Kriegsmarine

Wehrmacht

Superheroes

Rationality

New age spiritualities

Polished wood

Chiptune

Fresh winter cold air smell

Garfield

Boxes

Cardboard

Papercrafts

Plastic 3D prints

Words of wisdom

Angels

Zen

Chi-Nu Kai tank

0.0 Wilson, 0.4 Taft, 0.6 Theodore

Colonialism

WW1 Triplanes

Elves

Fantasy Dwarves

Fantasy Tieflings

Fantasy Gnomes

Fantasy Golems

Morphological Freedom

Transhumanism

Extremely far future time-travelling peoples

Aliens

Droids and Synthetics

Sylvans

Linguistics

Geopolitics

LISP 1.5

Shell scripts

Demoscene

Terminator

X-Men

Planet of the Apes

300

Men in Black

The Addams Family

The Matrix

The Hunger Games

Da Vinci Code

16^12+1988 aka the 0x10c Mojang’s cancelled game

[...]

[holy-mountaineering]

Alright!  This full Qabalistic Tree of Life Spread is for @glitchrunrabbit thank you for the donation! 

What I’ll do here is go through and briefly explain each card, its position on the Tree, and then I’ll give you a summary/synopsis of the spread as a whole. You know the routine.

Think of this spread as a sort of quantum map, or even the land of a regular map, everything is happening at once, in each place. It’s important to think of yourself as moving “through” the map but you are also simultaneously everywhere at once. For the sake of this specific experiment, think of this as a map. Maybe as a person, the Qabalistic Adam Kadmon.

Where we’re starting the journey from is Kether, the monad, the first sign of creation. We’ll call this your hometown, since it is where you’re from originally. Here we have the 8 of Swords, Interference.

Ideally, this is using both sides of your brain to keep down negative (mathematical negative which takes away) thoughts in order to maintain balance. Is something weighing on your mind that is useful or is it just detracting from what you’re trying to do? In this card we astrologically see the expansive quality of Jupiter here expanding equally each way in the twins Gemini. 

Unfortunately, this can also be using the concept of “order” or duality to thwart creative thinking and hold back mental progress.

Use your mind to filter out shitty thoughts and negative ways of thinking but don’t block out creativity. Use reason and feeling to practically analyze your thoughts.

In Chokmah, which is like your freeway getting you out onto the road out of  your hometown is the 5 of Cups Disappointment. 

Like all 5s this is the microcosmic and human part of its suit, in this case the human aspect of water, which is emotion, intuition and connectedness to life. Astrologically, this is Mars in Scorpio or emotional uncertainty making acting on your feelings difficult or at least obscured.

Everyone you’re in contact with, and everyone else is just a human with human limitations. Don’t overreach other people’s boundaries and be aware when they cross yours.  

There is also a frustration emotionally that you’re “stuck in the middle” of where you started and where you’d like to be feeling. That sucks, but, hey, like, we’re all just human. Just yourself and everyone else as much slack as you can for not being where you want them to be.

Don’t focus on your or others emotional limitations. Try to recognize why you are where/who you are emotionally and keep those waters flowing. You might not be quite where you want to be emotionally and in your relationships, but you’re making progress, in your way and time.

In Binah, which is ruled by Saturn and for the sake of this reading we will call the first stop on your roadtrip. You haven’t really arrived anywhere but you’re stopping and getting a chance to repack your car in a more efficient way. Sitting in Binah is the Ace of Disks, the root power of Earth or the material. 

This is the foundation which all your solid structures are and will be built on. This is the very root of your real world/material life situation. While this doesn’t mean you must tear everything down or that there is nothing in your material world that you've built, it does mean you must look at the source from which you've built your material and everyday world. If you have no foundation you can have no structure. If you have a shoddy foundation, you'll have a shoddy structure. Look to what things were like  before you began building. Is there sand beneath you? Are you in a swamp, building castles of stone that will bind to the mud and be pulled down much sooner than later? Did you account for the raise in elevation when you laid your foundation? Look down to the base of what you've made and what you've made it upon.

This is an engineering job, you’ll need tools to measure and level everything out. The occult might not be the best place to find these tools and it is possible that you have issues much more base than you're willing to cop to. There are many tools you can use to look at your foundation provided in psychology and meditation from other sources. The Universe throws us extreme situations and more often than not, this is the only way people see their basest of instincts and behaviors really act out. If you can, take a look at what connects you and what you’re building to the Earth before an earthquake, tornado, volcano, or other act of G-D forces you to pray everything was fine. Check the strength of your foundations before the strength of your foundations are checked.

Get down to the base fundamentals of what is going on in your material (things, money, living situation, literal stuff) and build from the ground up if you must. 

In Chesed which is ruled by Jupiter and again for the sake of this experiment we’ll say involves your influence and benevolence in your current trip is the 6 of Wands, Victory. 

This is organizing each action to interact with another to create friction at the intersections. 6s are like the idealized form of each of the suits, in this case FIRE or action, movement. Victory is achieved through strong organization. Here the strands come together to form the rope you pull yourself up with. Each piece is strong on it’s own but when you twist them together correctly you have a much better tool. 

Don’t do isolated things, use each action to build on your goals.

Across the Tree in Geburah, which is Mars Town, where you find your drive and what you’re trying to accomplish/conquer is XII The Hanged (or Drowned) Man, Mem, Water. 

This card represents the purifying and altering property of water. Here is the mystery of baptism, the origins of which are lost but we can infer their meaning by looking into the symbolism of rebirth. The individual who comes to the water to be baptized is a different individual when they leave the water. The element has cleansed them of their old skin and grit and grime and encouraged the growth of the new skin, so to speak. 

This Trump is also the myth of the dying gods. Odin on the tree Yggdrasil, Osiris being spread to the ends of the Earth, Jesus on the cross.  These gods or allegories are about intentionally putting yourself through a trial to learn of yourself and the world. Again, symbolic death and then rebirth with a new knowledge of the Universe and your place in it. 

Good news is you’re going to learn how to be the new you soon, bad news is you have to kill the old you. **General warning alert this is not about literally fucking killing yourself. DO NOT LITERALLY KILL YOURSELF this is purely about ending old ways of being, thinking and doing.**

In Tiphareth, the Sun and center of gravity holding all this in place, the heart pumping the blood through this, your heart is the Knight of Cups, the fiery part of Water or acting on feeling.

Ideally this is the drive to seek higher connections and feelings and being driven by intuition and love. Just don’t fall 

for illusions and false ideals. This is the love that brings you closer to connecting with everything, recognizing connection and it’s drive. This is the Arthurian tale of chasing the Holy Grail *Insert Monty Python joke here* simply to have a true connection to their god. Seek love like that.

Act on what you feel and truly intuit but only to the ends of unselfish almost worshipful Love. Do things that get you really really feeling.

In Netzach, Venus town, where you have the realization about how this is going to change you as a person with a personality is the 4 of Wands, Completion (of an action or a task). 

This is the boost you get when you finish squaring (4=square)  up the way things are going to be done. This is the fiery growth spurt of spring (Aries) affecting the love, beauty, and green growth of Venus. The trump cards The Emperor and the Empress are Aries and Venus, respectively. You have the “lower” conception of this union encapsulated in this card. This is finishing an important action so you can move on to the next goal.

I’d say that you square up with what you’re doing, finish the task at hand, and that’ll boost you forward into your new cycle of action.

In Mercury Town Hod-ville, where all the Universities are and everyone has real intellectual shit going on is the 7 of Wands, Valour. 

This card is the smashing of the order of the 6 of Wands by violent and chaotic energy. Crowley calls this “the soldier’s battle” and as usual, Al nails it. Think of when (white) people used to start battles by lining up facing each other and marching forward. This was generally a really shit way of fighting wars and the orderly ideas the generals had would go away the second people stopped being in straight lines..

Here it is stated that the lines are broken, the generals are dead, the chain of command is gone, and now if you want to survive you’re going to need to charge screaming at the enemy and without noticeable help. In this chaos watch out for friendly fire, shit is confusing right now. 

Keep your head down, march on, break the normal ordered way that you do things. Stagnation is your enemy, slay your enemy.

On the Moon in Yesod, the receptive and reflective place that is alot about the feelings that you’re picking up from all this is VI The Lovers. 

These Lovers aren’t about romantic love as much as it is the ‘Love unites the divided.’ This is the ceremony part of the alchemical wedding or the announcement of the intention to dissolve duality. Coagula.

All inverse and adverse elements of the card are brought together under the blessing of the Initiator who is giving the sign of the enterer. This is to say he is blessing your entering into this union of your shadow and conscious self.

You have some work to do on making a more unified you. There are issues that once brought together and balanced make more sense. Bring opposites or aspects of yourself you’re not familiar with/comfortable with together in your life to make a more complete whole. Set intention to do this, maybe even formally.

Down here in Malkuth-istan, the everyday life mundane, waking up pooping, and going to work world is the lovely and timely 6 of Cups, Pleasure. 

For reasons, I call this the plumbing card. The water is not flowing freely as though it is pouring, it has been pumped through a series of tubes intricately woven together to fill the cups placed in the shape of a hexagram. Emotion and connectedness to life are intentionally being directed by unseen but invited forces. Someone who wasn’t looking closely could see nothing but knots and chaos and even wonder how the damn thing worked in the first place. Those people are squares and should be avoided at all costs. 

Do what gives you pleasure that also instills clarity. Center on the best you can feel even if onlookers can’t appreciate what you’re doing connoisseurs (and you) will dig it.

SO, to summarize, don’t get in your own way by thinking yourself out of being pleased with your good situation and realize that people are just people  and really the best thing to do right now is just realize that your material world situation is beginning from the ground up kinda. I mean that your situation could use some analysing from the basics of how you approach your everyday life.

And your doing really well right now because things aren’t being attacked from a single front, you are and should continue to live your life as though every action is connected to a larger goal. This is a good idea because in the “Doing” part you’re going to have to challenge yourself in ways that won’t be apparent until they really are. This sacrificing self to self is about finding that Big Goal you’ll be seeking after. This challenge is more about finding that which motivates you in a profound way, a way that connects you to your life in a strong and meaningful way.

Furthermore, you’re finishing up a cycle in your life, a new you is appearing based on this new seeking that will both close some doors that have been flapping around in the breeze and change the way that you’ve been communicating what is going on with you and will help integrate all this new information and experience into your life in a very profound way. Surround yourself with people, places, and things that make you feel both whole and truly moving on to this next step in your life.

This all brings us to “Pleasure” and how the people in your life may not fully understand where you’re going and how you’re feeling about it, but if they are people meant to be in your life, they’ll put in the effort to get you and contribute to this new place you’re going and the new pleasures that you’ll receive from this motion towards a wholistic you, united because you took the steps and signed the contract with yourself to be more and completely YOU!

TA DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! Hit me up with any questions or for any clarification you might need and hey, good luck and Goatspeed!

[justawfulxmenart]

I know this is an X-Men exclusive blog buuut ...

Does anyone here like the Kiesha'ra series? I prefer it infinitely to Harry Potter or the Hunger Games. And there isn't near enough of it in the fandom circles I inhabit. :( It's a book series about shapeshifting nonsense and I am here for every word of it :D In the series there is a rivalry between the bird shapeshifters (avian) and the snake-shifters (serpiente). Things go hog wild when the heirs to both kingdoms get engaged. DRAMA. There is not nearly enough fanart for this gorgeous book series - so I made some!! From top left:  *Ailbhe - is described in the series as a "white viper." The closest snake I could find in the natural world is a gaboon viper which are just cutie pies. Ailbhe is a good, loyal boy. He has no time for your underhanded nonsense. *A'isha - is just described as "a viper," so I took the liberty to make her a green tree viper, my favorite! A'isha is very sassy, but loyal and compassionate. Her human form is always painting symbols on her body, so I wanted her snake form to mirror that. *Irene - the sweetest cobra to ever crawl. Irene is just a cutie. A bit more level-headed than her big brother Zane, she is often the voice of reason. She is a black king cobra. *Charis - Zane and Irene's mum (apparently in the series' universe a python can give birth to lil' cobrettes) A gorgeous reticulated pythons. I adore pythons. Charis is very giving and caring. The best python. *Danica and Zane in their hooman forms. Danica is described as having golden hair and "eyes the color of beaten gold." She's also got these nifty hawk feathers on the back of her neck. I wanted her to have pointed features. She is a worried baby. Zane seems like a creep at first, but he's actually an awkward kid trying his best. He has a temper, but his heart's in the right place. He has Gambit eyes. *Zanica cuddles!! *Zane is afraid of heights. We never get to see Danica go thru on her promise/threat to take her betrothed flying, so I did it here :D The brbs!!! *Danica - a sweet, but very mature golden hawk. There is no species known as "golden hawk," so I based Danica's bird form on our local red-tails and the European harriers and buzzards. *Nacola - Dani's mum. The stuck-up bird Queen. Nacola is stubborn and stiff, but isn't cruel or without compassion. I think she'd be a good grandma. :) * Adreios AKA Rei - a crow short on a sense of humor but long on devotion. Dani's best friend and confident. A good boy. *Betsy - a fat ole crow. She is an avian doctor with no time for BS. *Erica - a spunky sparrow soldier. She is very smol and kicks a lot of ass. :D Characters belong to Amelia Atwater-Rhodes and her severely underrated Kiesha'ra book series. Check them all OUT! Art is all mine.

[alydiarackham]

(Cover by me)

Curse-Maker: The Tale of Gwiddon Crow by Alydia Rackham

Prologue

               There is great freedom in darkness.

               I wrap it around me like clothing. I move without sound. And even if my boot treads upon a twig, and it snaps through the silence…

Mortal eyes can only strain to find its source, and then, to no avail. I am already gone.

               I walk through Winterly Wood amongst the ghosts of dead trees and the spirits that haunt the hanging branches. Moving as a wraith. My eyes see more keenly than any cat, my ears catch the slightest whisper. My skin tingles with each breath of dank air, my heart beats in time with the deep, ancient mutterings of the wood.

               In darkness, I perch amidst the arms of the tangled oak trees, watching like the mire owl, but invisible, though I loom just above the traveler’s head. I creep along the banks of the river, watching the threads of moonshine ripple against its languid surface, spying the drifting fishes amongst the reeds, yet I am never touched by the fingers of silver light that grope weakly down into the black.

               I spin webs of spells, like twinkling nets, whose edges set fool-fires and will-o-wisps that lead wayfarers to their deaths. I press my palm to the cold surface of the water, and henceforth anyone who touches the river will fall asleep and drown. I lay illusions upon the trees—illusions of dreadful fiends that horrify villagers into abandoning the path. I breathe out a blanket of fog to stifle the remnants of old elvish spells.

I snatch at the ranger’s legs and send him tumbling into the arms of the bramble thorns. I loose false cries of children to lead the woodsman to the mouth of the bog. I crush blue fairies with stones and put out their light. I ensnare the noisy white deer, send pale phantoms wailing up and down the roads to terrorize encroaching gypsies. I lie down amongst a fellowship of wolves.

I am never seen.

I am not bound by borders or the commands of any king; I am not enslaved any longer to chains and hammers and toil; I bear my own name. I wield my own weapons. I rely upon no one.  

I can breathe with all the depth in my lungs, and no one hears anything but the rustle of the leaves. I fly, and they shrink from the shadow of a raven. I run faster than wind, leaves swirling around my feet and the edges of my cape, the night air tearing through my wild hair—and they recoil from a banshee. I scale trees in an instant, then leap down onto horsemen like a nightmare—and throw them from the saddle. I ride frightened beasts down paths unknown by men, with the hands of a herald of Hel. I appear and disappear at will, with the suddenness of death.

               I am the darkness.

 Chapter One

                  On the night of a full moon in late autumn, I sat in the arms of a knotted wych elm, my back to the trunk, one leg bent, the other hanging easily off the thick branch. My black cape tumbled all around me, its edges fluttering like feathers touched by a breeze. I crossed my arms, gazing out to my left at the narrow road that passed beneath me and wound away into vanishment like a dead river. I listened.

               The young night air hung heavy with frost. Silver foxes slipped through the underbrush, disturbing the leaves of the greying ferns. I could hear their careful, clever feet padding across the fallen leaves. An owl passed like a winged reaper overhead, the cloak of his wings eclipsing the cold gaze of the moon.

               As I watched below me, the fog slowly rolled in, hiding the roots of the trees. Dew beaded on my fitted, leather travel clothes and on the long, tangled, mane-like lengths of my white hair. I reached up with both hands and wound a strand around my slender, pale fingers, studying the way the crackled moonlight caught my hair’s coal-black flecks and shining silvers. The way it cast shadows across the scars on my knuckles, the black rune tattoos on my thumbs. How it sparkled in the jet stone in the silver ring on my right hand.  

               I released the tangled end of my hair and tapped the symbols on my thumbs, absently muttering their meanings under my breath like a chant, first one hand, then the other.

               “Cuir, neartu, freimhe,” I hummed. “Nimh, betha, cothaigh. Cuir, neartu, freimhe; Nimh, betha, cothaigh…”

               Plant. Strengthen. Root.

               Poison. Feed. Keep.

               I tilted my face back to the interwoven maze of branches above me, smiling as they swayed in time to the rhythm of the wood—the rhythm I had memorized since childhood, even before I knew the words to the song. I tapped my toe, tilting my head side to side. I drew in a deep breath.

“Man may think that he liveth long, But oft him belies my tricks. Fair weather often turns to rain And wondrously it makes its switch.”

 A lively, wicked wind suddenly cut through the branches, whirling and swirling like a tattered gown, catching up leaves in its skirts. Night birds began to hoot and call in time with me, and deep, guttural, creaking grunts issued from the marrow of the trees.

“Therefore, man, you do bethink, But all shall fail, your fields of green!

 Fair weather often turns to rain,

And wondrously it makes its switch!”

 The cold wind cackled now, throwing the leaves toward the skies and ripping delightfully through my cape and hair. I rapped my fingernails against the bark, raising my voice as the tune slithered rapidly every which way through the forest.

“Alas, there's neither king nor queen, That shall not drink of death's drink!

Man, ere thou fall off thy bench, Thy sins thou shalt quench!

 Man may think that he liveth long, But oft him belies my tricks.

Fair weather often turns to rain,

And wondrously it makes its switch!”

 As I let the last note ring out, warming and vibrating through my whole body, the autumn wood and its creatures roiled and rattled with the full strength of their merry voices. I grinned, appreciatively slapping the trunk of the tree, feeling it chuckle down within its wood.  

               Then—

               A screech.

               Far off, yet not so far that I couldn’t feel the ripple of it strike me in the side of the neck.

               I leaped to my feet, standing freely balanced on the branch, holding onto nothing. My cape went still. I faced the east, not breathing, my gaze wide.

               A deep, single-noted hum traveled through the earth, as if something in the roots of the mountains had cracked. For a moment, I stood, studying the vibrations that passed up through the roots, the trunk, and into my boots.

               Then, I launched myself up the tree. With swift, sure steps and firm handholds, I maneuvered my lean body between the limbs and toward the height of the canopy. At last, my head broke through the leaves, and moonlight spilled over my hair. I grasped the rough branches, and peered toward the east.

               Winterly Wood stretched on in every direction, its impenetrable tangle rolling far, far away from me toward Rye Valley, which now lay shrouded in blackness.

               But there, at the very edge of my sight, I glimpsed birds that had taken flight. All along the entire forest wall, they flapped frantically upward, toward the mountains, away from the valley.

               I frowned hard, my left-hand fingers closing tighter around the branch.

               Then, I let go, perched precariously on a limb that could not hold my weight.

               “Eitil,” I muttered—and clapped my hands together.

               The limb gave way beneath me—but that instant, my cape flung all around me like a python, swallowed my frame, and crushed it.

               A moment of blinding pain snapped all my bones—

And then…

               I flung out my arms—and they were wings. Great, black wings.

My face had changed to shining black with a long, gleaming beak. My body had covered with sleek ebony feathers, my feet to wiry claws. I sprang straight into the air with a hoarse “caw!”, beating my wings as I climbed heavenward. I reeled in midair, switching direction, and hurtled down over the face of the forest, my feathers spread wide.

Leaves flittered just below my breast as I skimmed over the beeches, oaks and elms. I dodged bare, protruding twigs; I fleetingly scanned ahead of me for owls. Though none would challenge me—I was thrice the size of any other crow in Edel.

Ahead of me, rising suddenly like black knives from the heart of the wood, this portion of the Eisenzahn Mountain Strand stood like the walls of a giant fortress. Black pines covered their faces, cloaking the shimmering white stone of their bones. I glanced down, and glimpsed the Sopor River glittering like a seam of silver weaving through the immovable wood—leading straight for the Flumen Split: the narrow gap in the mountains that provided the only passage between Albain and the vast Thornbind Wood beyond.

Canting my head, I spied a narrow track below me, and a familiar fork in it. With a breath, I folded my wings and dove straight down.

The wind whistled through my feathers, the stars flashed around me—

I plunged into the shadow of the wood.

I pulled up, brought my wings out with a loud flap—

Shook myself, and threw off my cape.

               Another howl of pain split my body—and my booted feet struck the dry dirt of the path.

               Pulling in a swift, measured breath and gritting my teeth, I lifted my human head and straightened my human shoulders, never breaking stride as my cape turned back into a garment, and roiled behind my steps.

               I took another deep breath, smelling the smoke of a familiar hearth. In a few paces, I spied flickering torches standing at odd angles, lining the crooked path. My boots left prints in the frost.

               I finally approached the first set of torches: human skulls upon tall pikes, their gaping mouths seething with crackling flames, their eyes enlivened by brilliant sparks. The flame blackened the teeth of their sagging jaws, and glowed through the cracks in their crowns. The light threw stark shadows against the figures of the trees to either side, making them look like they moved. I strode between the leering pairs, tipping my head back and forth as I had since I was a girl, silently reciting the names I’d given them: Arseny and Afanasy, Vadim and Vasily, Bogdam and Boris, Ivan and Ilia, Pavel and Pyotr. I glanced ahead of me at the familiar cottage.

               The cottage of bones.

               Instead of beams and bars and thatch, the mistress of this house had built with the bones of kings who defied her, women who went back on their promises to her, children who had been traded for spells. But the front door and the lintel above had been constructed of very special skeletons indeed: the bones of all the Caldic Curse-Breakers—except one.  

               I finally arrived at the front door of the cottage. For a moment I stopped, glancing toward the window to my left.

               Flickering orange light peered through a ragged cloth that hung over most of the opening. Quiet music wafted out: music from a stringed instrument, plucked by careful fingers. It was a swaying, tilting sort of tune—like treading gleefully toward some sort of mischief. I snickered.

               I reached out and put my hand on the forehead of Aleric Blackthorn’s well-polished skull, and shoved.

               The ancient door creaked crankily as I stepped up into the cottage. I immediately dodged a mobile of fingerbones and a set of dangling glass balls. My footsteps went silent as they met the worn-out bearskins on the floor.

               The scent of burning tallow candles filled my lungs—a mountain of them, all dripping onto each other, stood upon the mantel in the far corner, lighting up all the herbs, spices, bones, and trinkets hanging from that section of the ceiling.

I maneuvered around the towers of dusty books and locked trunks, aiming for the beaten armchair that sat near the fire—its legs so stacked with tattered papers and odds and ends that it looked as if it had grown out of the floor.

Enfolded in the arms of the chair sat a very old woman, wearing rags. Only if I peered closely—which I often had—could I detect the threads of gold and silver woven into her garments, and the faded silk patterns of flowers: patterns sewn by the finest weavers and tailors in Izborsk.

Hundreds and hundreds of years ago.

A scarf that had once been maroon bound around the top of her head, and her feathery white hair stuck out from beneath it. She had a face of leather, riddled with wrinkles; the end of her long, hooked nose nearly touching her protruding chin. In her lap she held the stringed instrument, a triangle-shaped balalaika, and her bony hands plucked the strings of the melancholy, mischievous melody that filled the house. The firelight bathed her gently-swaying form in rich light, and for a moment—as I always did when I first came inside—I felt like I was gazing back into the shadows of a lost world.

I paused, but she’d caught my movement. Her glinting silvery eyes found me, and narrowed as a low, sly smile carved her wrinkles even deeper.

“Crow,” she creaked, still playing at the strings with her skillful fingertips.

“Babushka,” I nodded to her.

“You have something to tell me,” Gwiddon Baba Yaga—called “Babushka” only by me—noted, turning back toward the fire, and I watched as the flames danced across her iridescent eyes. Eyes that had seen so much—so much more than I could ever imagine…

“Yes,” I said. “I saw something.”

“Sit down, eat,” she nodded to a space in front of her.

I frowned, and leaned around a particularly tall pile of books…

To see that a small table set with a bowl of food, in front of my chair, steamed readily, as if it had just been laid out. I eyed her, and lifted an eyebrow.

“You were expecting me to come back early.”

“Da,” she hummed.

I sighed, stepped around the pile of books, peeled off my cape and flung it across the back of my chair, then sat heavily down. I tugged the table closer so it stood between my knees, and I scanned the food. It was a bowl of shchi, filled with cabbage, chicken, mushrooms, carrots, onions, garlic, celery, pepper, apples and smetana. Three pieces of hot, buttered bread sat to the side, along with a wooden goblet of rich, heady red wine. I picked up the goblet and took a long swig of the wine, hoping it would dull the ache in my bones left over from my transforming.

“So,” I said, setting the goblet down and tearing into the bread with both hands. “What was it that I saw?”

The witch across from me diddled on the strings with her long nails, and pursed her lips.

“I suppose you saw a bit of a disturbance on the eastern border of Winterly,” she replied, with a thoughtful lilt to her tone. “And perhaps felt a touch of startlement from deep within the earth?”

I frowned hard at her, stopping my chewing.

Her eyes flicked to mine for a moment, and then she returned to her music. I finished chewing, watching her, then sat back in my chair.

“So what was it?”

“Mm,” she grunted. “I do not know.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“What do you think it was?”

“Eat your shchi,” she said, jerking her chin toward it. “And put some slype on your hands.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“I see a spot.” She pointed with a gnarled finger at my left hand. I lifted it toward the light, and spied a dark blotch on the back of it.

“I haven’t noticed that before,” I murmured.

“Mm,” she grunted again. “What have you been doing?”

“Nothing,” I shook my head. “Just a strengthening spell on the fog.”

“Ah, but you haven’t put slype on yourself for weeks,” she noted, arching an eyebrow.

“It stinks,” I shot back. She snorted.

“Put it on,” she ordered. “Unless you’d like to look like me far earlier than you ought.” And she bared her pointed teeth in what was meant to be a ghastly grin. I rolled my eyes and reached up to snatch a little black bottle off the mantle.

“I don’t mind a little spot on my hand,” I muttered.

“Mm, you may not,” the witch sat back in her chair. “Not now, when you’re only four and twenty, with a body still strong and quick. But you will wish you had listened to your babushka,” she wagged a finger at me. “When you try to shake off that flying crow someday, and two of your bones stay broken. Mark me.”

I smirked, not replying, and popped the cork off the bottle. I dripped just a bit of the black, oily liquid into my right palm, put the cork back, and rubbed the slype onto the back of my left hand.

“Keep rubbing,” Baba Yaga ordered. “Until you cannot see the spot.”

“Yes, I know,” I glared at her, but kept doing it, until the oil rubbed in and the spot on my hand faded. I feigned a gag and shook my head, putting the bottle back on the mantle.

“Smells like dead fish.”

“Hehe,” the witch chuckled. “Not so bad.”

I said nothing, just picked up the wooden spoon and started stirring my steaming soup.

“So what was it?” I pressed, slurping a spoonful, then wincing at its heat. But I kept eating. The witch gazed at me, tapping her fingers on the face of her instrument.

“I said I do not know,” she repeated. “But someone is coming who will tell us.”

I stopped with my spoon halfway to my mouth.

“Who?” I asked in a low voice. But she didn’t respond—just smiled.

The fire in the hearth guttered.

My attention flashed to it.

Then, fingers of smoke began to creep out past the mantlepiece, as if something had blocked the chimney.

Slowly, I lowered my spoon back into the soup.

The smoke thickened, blackened. It trailed upward, past the candles, mingling with the flames and disappearing into the shadow of the ceiling.

Without a sound, I lifted the table in front of me and set it to the side. Then, I slowly settled back in my chair, draping my arms over the rests. With my jaw set, I waited.

The thick smoke pooled on the ceiling, and began slithering down amongst the witchly ornaments, dripping onto the floor beside Baba Yaga. It writhed out of the corners of the cottage, seething over the bearskin rugs, filling the air with the exotic musk of myrrh.

As Baba Yaga and I watched, the serpentine smoke began to twine around itself, crawling from the floor toward the ceiling again. Forming an ever-thickening pillar. All the lights in the cottage changed hue, taking on a pearly emerald—and sparks danced freely around the flames.

A figure formed within the shroud of smoke: tall and willowy, like an iron lance. Surrounded by sinister, cobweb draperies that stirred with their own wind. Ripples of clarity brought forth the shapes of strong, graceful arms bound round with silver bracers; long, white hands—the right one bearing a glittering ring. An elegant, figure-hugging black tunic with upward-sweeping shoulders, evoking the visage of a horned asp. A sundering cape dripping and slithering from the back of his shoulders and round his flowing skirts, hiding his feet. Jewels of jet and poison-red sparkling like scales across his chest. A tall collar guarding a graceful neck.

A raven head, with midnight hair spilling down to the front of his chest, crisp and feral as the feathers of a crow. A sharp, refined face with perfect features, and skin white as moonlight. Eyes like chips of silver, with an ethereal, shining distance. Coal black eyebrows, black lashes; grey, unsmiling lips. And across his face—upon his delicate cheekbones, brow and nose—lay deep red discolorations, like the sear of heat, or the welt of a deep bruise. But it did not mar his beauty—in truth, it accentuated it. And the ice-cold ferocity in his bearing added terrible power to his heavy glance.

A dark light swelled out from him, tightening my chest. I didn’t move. He lifted his chin, and looked directly at me. His bright, pupil-less gaze darted through me to my spine.

“Gwiddon Crow.” His musical voice like the surface of a lake at twilight.

“Crow,” Baba Yaga motioned to me, then to him. “This is Mordred.”

Chapter Two

   Mordred inclined his graceful head to me. I didn’t move—just narrowed my eyes.

“He is a draid,” Baba Yaga told me. “A dark elf.”

“I know what he is,” I answered quietly, not taking my eyes from him. “What is he doing here?”

Mordred almost smiled, and lifted his right eyebrow-slightly.

“He is also the king of Albain,” Baba Yaga added.

I slowly leaned back, stretched out my legs in front of me, and crossed them.

“Well, then,” I raised my eyebrows. “He should know right now what I think of kings.”

Mordred truly smiled now, and chuckled.

“I like her, Vedma,” he glanced at Baba Yaga. I gave him nothing but a cold look.

“Please, sit,” Baba Yaga waved a hand—and her guest chair appeared.

The bear skin near Mordred’s feet writhed and twisted, and rose off the floor, warping itself into the shape of a tall armchair, with the mighty, toothy head crowning the top. When at last it had stopped its transformation, Mordred stepped around it, swept his skirts out of the way, and sat down with the casual elegance of a cat, his right elbow propped on the armrest.

“Would you have something to drink or eat?” Baba Yaga asked him. He absently flicked his fingers.

“No, thank you, I’ve just eaten.”

Baba Yaga shrugged, and sat back in her own chair.

“What brings you here, Mordred?”

He looked at her for a moment.

“I’m certain you noticed the disturbance at the edge of Winterly Wood not long ago,” he said.

“I did,” Baba Yaga nodded. “But Crow was out in the wood at the time, and saw the birds take flight.”

Mordred glanced at me. The firelight glinted off his silvery eyes.

“What did you perceive?” he asked me.

“I am keeping my thoughts to myself, until I hear what you have to say.” I canted my head. “That’s the reason you’ve come, isn’t it?”

He peered at me, his brow furrowing, then leaned slightly toward me.

“Tell me,” he said, pointing vaguely. “Where did you get such an ugly and unusual scar? It covers the entirety of the left side of your face, all the way down to your neck, and looks like the white craters of the moon.”

I lifted my chin, unmoved.

“I was struck by a hot fire shovel when I was fourteen, by my father,” I said. “I killed him with it.” Then, I narrowed my own eyes to slits. “Where did you get yours?”

He grinned again, laughing softly.

“Child, I am older than you can imagine,” he said, looking over at me with something like warmth. “I honestly cannot remember when I first noticed these marks on my face. But I do know they’ve arisen from my struggles, my pain, my suffering…” He considered me again, his mirth fading, a sadness entering him. “Just as yours have.”

I blinked, and glanced down.

“Tell us, Mordred,” Baba Yaga urged. “What is this all about? I don’t like the feel of it.”

Mordred gazed at her long.

“What do you feel?”

She set her jaw crookedly, and leveled a look back at him. Her voice lowered to a deadly, rasping tone.

“That a curse has been broken.”

Mordred’s mouth tightened, and he gazed down at the hearthstones with a cold consideration.

“It may have been,” he murmured. “I fear that someone has pulled the Sword from the stone.”

Baba Yaga gasped.

The sound made me sit up—set my heart bashing into my ribs.

“The true sword Calesvol? How can that be?” Baba Yaga rasped. “It has been lost for centuries! Ever since you killed Merlin the Wild!”

               Mordred suddenly looked at her without moving his lowered head.

               A chill passed through me.

               “I…did not kill…Merlin,” he said, with painful and precise decision.

               “Whaaat?” Baba Yaga stared at him, her eyes wide and terrible. “Why did you lie to me?”

               “I lied to everyone,” Mordred answered icily. “After Merlin appeared to me and declared that he had laid Calesvol in a stone, and none but the true king of Albain could pull it loose—and that he had hidden it from all eyes but those of this true king—I hunted him more relentlessly than I had ever hunted anyone. But Merlin had vanished. I assumed that he had fled Albain, either across the sea or into the Eisenzahn Mountains. I cast hundreds of spells searching for him throughout Edel, but all came back to me empty. He was gone.” Mordred’s gaze grew distant, and he studied the dance of the flames. “So I made my own sword in the stone, my own Calesvol, and in the presence of ten thousand witnesses, I drew the sword from the stone. And I have been king this past age, questioned by none. And none have passed through my borders alive, either in or out.” He sent a flashing glance to Baba Yaga. “I will not have my throne threatened by some peasant who pulled a trinket from a rock.”

               Baba Yaga watched him for a moment.

               “What would you have us do?”

               Mordred took a deep breath, turning back to the fire.

               “The pulling of the sword has weakened the barriers around Albain. Strong Curse-Breakers will soon be able to cross, and the elves and rangers that have been enchanted in the woods will begin waking up.” He turned to me. “I require your help, Gwiddon Crow.”

               “Why?” I demanded quietly.

               “I wish to take your master with me, back to Camelot,” he said. “And I need you to destroy the Seal of Astrum.”

               “What?” I said, stunned. “Destroy the Seal? A great Seal?” I looked over at Baba Yaga, but she said nothing. I turned back to Mordred. “Why?”

               “To take back Thornbind,” he answered. “Once I put down this usurper who has found Calesvol, I will have the true sword in my hand. With it, I can breach the gap in the mountains and enter the Eorna Valley, which will bring us just steps from Maith. We will finally bring the fight to the doorstep of the Curse-Breakers. But we cannot do so if that Seal blocks our way.”

               I shook my head.

“Destroying a great Seal is impossible, and you know it.”

               “No, it isn’t,” he answered. “Anything made can be un-made.”

               “Yes, by a Curse-Breaker,” I shot back. “The nature of a seal itself is set against us. It was built to withstand just such an attack.”

               “Curse-Breakers are not infallible,” Mordred shook his head. “I have killed many.”

               “Well, be my guest, then,” I growled, waving my hand.

               “Crow,” Baba Yaga warned. I sat up, and leaned toward Mordred.

               “A Seal is not a Curse-Breaker,” I bit out. “You may have killed many Curse-Breakers, but the Seals have killed far more of us,” I said, and slapped my chest.

               “Yes, and many were my friends,” Mordred answered deliberately, looking right at me. “Which is why I spent half my lifetime searching for this.” He lifted his left hand and snapped his fingers.

               A bright light flashed in front of him—

               And a small book lay in his palms.

               I recoiled, sucking in a breath.

               I could feel tendrils of pure, sharp, untamed magic twisting and winding around its beaten leather binding, emanating from the dark red stone in the center of the cover.

               “What is that?” I hissed.

               “It is the Leabhar,” Mordred said quietly. “The Book.”

               “Where did you find it?” Baba Yaga whispered.

               “In Camelot, in Merlin’s vaults beneath the castle.” He glanced wryly at her. “Why do you think I was so eager to conquer Albain? It has nothing else to offer.”

               “I thought the Book was destroyed by dragon fire,” I muttered, still staring at it, feeling like it might leap up and sink teeth into me.

               “So did I,” Mordred nodded. “But, it appears that those on the other side can concoct their own share of clever lies.” He moved his white fingers to lift the cover.

               “Don’t open it!” I yelped, throwing out a hand—stopping just short of grabbing his wrist. He laughed.

               “You mustn’t be afraid, Crow,” he admonished. “You’ll be needing this.” And he held it out to me.

               “I am not touching that,” I said through my teeth, withdrawing from it to sink my fingernails into the armrests of my chair.

               “Why?” he asked simply. “Are you afraid?”

               I glared at him.

               “Only a fool is never afraid.”

               His expression shrugged.

               “True enough,” he acknowledged. “But the power in this book cannot harm you. You can only learn from it.”

               “And what am I supposed to learn?”

               A slow, mysterious smile touched his lips.

               “How the Caldic Curse-Breakers made the Seven Seals of Edel.”

               I narrowed my eyes at him.

               “You have the Book. Why don’t you learn it, and attack the seal yourself? I’m sure you’re powerful enough.”

               “I am,” he nodded. “But I cannot read it.”

               “Ha!” I barked. “You just told me how old you were, how experienced. How can you not read ancient Caldic?”

               “I cannot because it is enspelled, you impatient shrew,” he snapped—and his words knifed straight through my gut. My mouth clapped shut.

For an instant, Mordred’s eyes blazed at me with a fiendish light…

               Which diminished, turning to frost and snow.

               “It will not allow a draid to read its words,” he muttered, flinging open the cover, as he seemed to have done hundreds if not thousands of times. I flinched back…

               But the magic just kept winding round and round the book, penetrating its pages, in a steady, unbroken flow.

               “It rebels against my very blood, the way the light meets my eyes. It’s maddening,” he muttered. “I have tried many, many times to understand, but even if I untangle one phrase, the next moment, it is gone from my mind.” He shook his head. “I saw no pressing need to decipher it at the time I found it. It was enough to have the Book in my possession, and keep it away from the Curse-Breakers, who could do untold damage with it. But now…” he raised his eyebrows at Baba Yaga. “I need a Curse-Maker.”

               “Would you rather leave this task to me?” Baba Yaga asked him. “I am willing, if Crow is not.”

               Mordred was already shaking his head.

               “I need you in Camelot. You must re-lay the curses that are breaking, or replace them with others. The curses of Albain are old, and bone-deep in this realm, and as they snap they may lash back at Camelot itself. And I can already feel Curse-Breakers advancing on my borders. They will need to be waylaid. I cannot keep all of this at bay with only my two hands. This work is as complex as it is dangerous, and I need you at my side.”

               “But is this not equally complex?” I demanded, pointing to the book. Mordred looked at me.

               “No,” he said. “It is quite simple. As simple as untying a knot. You must simply undo what has been done. But first, you must see it clearly.” And he held the book out to me again.

               I didn’t move. Instead, I looked at Baba Yaga.

               “Do you think I ought to do this, Babushka?” I asked her.

               She tilted her head, and shrugged again.

               “I believe you are fully capable of doing it,” she finally said. “You are strong enough, and cunning enough. If you are willing enough.”

               I took the book from Mordred.

               My fingers hit the binding, and the magic hummed—

               But nothing bit me. It didn’t hurt at all.

               I studied it, turning my head to try to make out the runes imprinted on the cover. I set my finger to the opening edge of the cover…

               “Nocht,” I whispered.

               The magic flickered against my thumb. I lifted the cover…

               “Well?” Mordred asked, leaning even closer.

I stared down at the words.

               “I…” I started, then trailed off.

               “What?” he demanded. But I couldn’t speak. I could only read the words, over and over, written in an ancient, inky hand.

                 Greetings, Gwiddon Crow. What is it that you seek?            

  Chapter Three

                “What?” Baba Yaga demanded leaning forward, her chair squeaking.

               “It…” I tried. “It says ‘Greetings, Gwiddon Crow. What is it that you seek?’” I lifted my head, and stared at my teacher.

               Slowly, she grinned at me.

               “Fascinating,” Mordred whispered, watching me with a gleaming eye. “Answer it.”

               “Answer it?” I repeated. “How?”

               He gestured to the book.

               “Answer it. Tell it what you want to know.”

               I stared down at the weathered page and the cryptic writing. I narrowed my eyes at it.

               “I wish to know,” I said slowly. “…how to un-make a great Seal.”

               The writing melted away and disappeared. The next moment, it bled back up through the paper, forming different words.

                 You must first learn how the Seals were made. Do you wish to know?

              ��          “What is it?” Baba Yaga hissed.

               “It says I must know how they were made, and asks if I wish to know,” I answered.

               “Tell it yes,” Mordred told me—in a tone like he was instructing me to step out onto thin ice.

               “Yes,” I said.

               The words disappeared. Then, they melted back.

                 I will tell you. But I will not tell the other two.

                 My eyes flew to the others. They frowned at me.

               “What now?” Mordred wondered.

               “It says,” I answered carefully “That it won’t tell you or Baba Yaga.”

               Mordred laughed and slapped his thigh.

               “This magic,” he grinned. “Such splendid cleverness.”

               Baba Yaga ground her teeth.

               “Why would it say such a thing?”

               “Perhaps it knows us,” Mordred guessed.

               “Perhaps it can hear us,” Baba Yaga raised her eyebrows at him.

Mordred smiled and shrugged.

               “Perhaps it can. Leastways, this still serves our purpose.” He rose to his feet, his skirts rustling uneasily around his legs. “Vedma, will you come with me back to Camelot?”

               “I will,” she grunted, laboriously rising to her feet. “If food is provided.”

               “I shall have my kitchen prepare the finest meals for you, and you’ll sleep in the quarters designated for the queen, as I have no such partner yet.”

               “Oh, who would marry you?” Baba Yaga jibed.

               “Why, you would, if I asked you,” Mordred grinned at her.

                “You flatter me, draid,” she cackled. “What of Crow?”

               “Crow, you will remain here,” Mordred said, looking down at me. “And you will keep that book with you at all times until I come to retrieve it, or I will kill you where you stand.”

               I glared at him.

               “I’m not a fool,” I shot back. “I would have done that even without your threat.”

               “It isn’t a threat,” Mordred said simply. “It’s a promise.”

               I didn’t answer him. He turned toward the fireplace and straightened his coat.

               “Best get to work,” he advised. “The Seal must be broken by this time next week. Our spells should be in place by then. Keep in touch.”

               I still said nothing. Baba Yaga reached over and patted my head.

               “I have faith in you, vnuchka,” she smiled. “You will make me proud.”

               “Thank you, Babushka,” I said, keeping my eyes strictly away from Mordred.

               “Remember,” Baba Yaga held up a finger. “Do not forget the lineages. We hold them to no esteem—but our foes value them more than life.”

               I frowned, but nodded once.

               “Your hand, my lady,” Mordred said, holding his white palm out toward Baba Yaga.

               “Thank you, sir,” she said, and wrapped her gnarled fingers around his. Mordred glanced down at me, his silvery eyes flashing.

               “Goodbye,” he said.

               And he and Baba Yaga dissolved into black smoke.

               They swirled like a cyclone, writhing and twisting, then wound their way up the chimney, and disappeared.

                   I sat for a long time in the silence, watching the fireplace where they had vanished. Then, I set the book aside, pulled the table back in front of me, and finished my meal before it got cold.

After that, I performed a simple cleaning spell, put my dishes away, made the guest chair sink back onto the floor, came back and prodded the fire. The flames leaped high, and warmth spilled over my boots. I tossed another log in, then snapped my fingers and lit the hanging lamp by my armchair. Sighing, I sat back down, stretched my legs out in front of me, and took up the book again. I opened it to the first page.

               It was blank.

               My brow furrowed.

               “Hello?”

               Hello.

               I cleared my throat.

               “What is your name?”

               My name is Leabhar.I am The Book.

               “Who made you?”

               The Caldic Curse-Breakers.

               “How do you know me?” I wondered.

               I know all beings in this world, alive and dead.

               I bit the inside of my lip.

               “Tell me how the Great Seals were made.”

               Do you wish to know the truth?

               “Yes, of course I do,” I insisted. “Why else would I ask?”

               Very well. The realm of Edel had been swallowed by shadow. This time was called The Curtain. Curse-Breathers had arisen and overwhelmed the servants of light, binding them in curses and spells, ensnaring the borders of the kingdoms, causing wars to erupt amongst brothers. The Source Himself summoned the Curse-Breakers and sent them to stand upon the pulse points of Edel. Then, he journeyed Beneath, and gave his life in sacrifice to the Dragon. But his death fractured the Fountains of the Deep, and his blood mingled with the water. The water surged up through the Mountain of Maith and spilled down across the land. At the same moment, his power, channeled by his Curse-Breakers, pushed up through the earth where each of them stood, and each Curse-Breaker used this force to create a mighty Seal of protection. The breaking of the Fountains broke the Dragon’s curse, and the Source was restored to life. The Curse-Breakers then bound each Seal to the lifeblood of the royal family nearby, and charged each true ruler with the protection of that Seal, a task to be passed down through the bloodline.  

               I heaved a sigh and rolled my eyes.

               “I could have read this in a book of fairy tales,” I muttered. “Be more realistic.”

               What is it that you find doubtful?

               “The Source is dead. Everyone knows that,” I answered, gesturing vaguely. “The water is just latent magic from the days before the Curtain, and it power is fading.”

               The Book went blank.

               I thumped the page with my finger.

               “Be more realistic about the Seals,” I demanded. “And specific.”

               If you do not accept my premise, then what I tell you has no foundation. We have no frame of reference from which to understand each other.

               I released another sigh.

               “All right, I will acknowledge the death and resurrection of the Source as legend,” I said. “Now, tell me.”

               The previous ink bled away. And it returned in one word:

               No.

               “No?” I cried. “Why not?”

               The ink faded.

               And none replaced it.

               I shut the book and threw it on the ground. It bounced away from me across the bearskin rug.

               “That isn’t Leabhar,” I scoffed. “Mordred’s a fool.” I stood up, and kicked the book across the floor as I walked back toward my bedroom. “It’s just a stupid Answer-Back book. I could make another one just like it for him in two hours…”

                    I shut myself in my room and lit the candles and lamps, and glanced around. It wasn’t a large room: it had a single window hung with leather curtains, a narrow bed covered in skins, a woven rag-rug on the wooden floor, and the left and right-hand walls had been built in with bookshelves. Several battered trunks stood in the corner.

               I lit extra lamps beside the bookcases, peering at the spines as I passed the hundreds of packed volumes. I grabbed one book, jerked it out, and tossed it on the floor behind me. I grabbed another, and another, and another. Their covers slapped together as each one landed. Then, I went to the top trunk, flung open the lid, and dug out a piece of parchment, ink, and a pen. Then, I came back to the center of the room, sat down cross-legged, snatched up the first book, opened it and set to work.

                    It took me four days.

               With aching neck and back, I poured over the volumes, checking and checking again. The first volume was The Book of Common Curses; the second: The Foundations of Ancient Magic; the third: The Master’s Curse Book; the fourth: Natural Spells, the fifth: Blood Spells.  

               I carefully made lists on the parchment, drawing out steps one, two, three and so on. I counted ingredients, muttered words. Interchanged some, rejected others. Added more.

               I stopped working when the sun arose, ate, and slept. I performed refresher spells rather than sponging myself off or washing my clothes. I didn’t have time to dally. I gave myself a headache every night, and rejoiced when I could lie down amidst the bearskins and relax the muscles in my neck. But the dusk came all to quickly, and I forced myself to arise, eat again, and hunch over my work once more.

               Soon, I was able to confirm my initial conclusion: that any magic specifically found in the Book of Common Curses  or The Master’s Curse Book would not suffice against a Seal or any guardian, since the seals had been specifically designed to withstand them. In fact, casting one of them could prove deadly to me.

               I also concluded that many blood spells and natural could be executed to act like curses. It was the one weakness, the loophole that the Caldic Curse-Breakers had forgotten. Indeed, Baba Yaga often told me that the Curse-Breakers of this day and age bitterly regretted that their predecessors had not included spells that bore fatal consequences as curses, also.

               These would do nicely for me. And once I had the words aligned, the work would all be in the casting. I wouldn’t even have to set foot in Astrum.

                 I flew with the rolled parchment in my beak, over the jagged roof of the forest, toward the gap in the mountains where the river ran. I carried Mordred’s book in a pouch in my claws. If he wanted it later, fine. He’d find me with it and I would give it to him. I wasn’t about to die over something so silly.

Silvery moonlight poured down over the pines, glistening against the white stones that dotted the foothills. My feathers rustled through the chill air. Fog hung in the wooded paths, shrouding the tiny villages that stood in the narrow clearings. I beat my wings and picked up my speed, arching higher and higher, swooping beneath the low clouds.

               At last, I spotted the low, jagged foothill of Mount Stell, the craggy peak that wreathed Astrum in its arms. This foothill rose up to half the mountain’s height, and overlooked a small valley, on the other side of which, at a great height, stood the castle.

               I plunged down, cutting through the frosty wind, swooped between the trees, flung out my wings…

               Transformed back to a human with a furious rush, and my booted feet struck the frost-covered stone of the Maven Overlook. The pouch with Mordred’s book tumbled to a stop next to me.

               Silence fell all around me. I took the parchment from my mouth and drew in a deep breath, then let it out. It clouded around my head in vapor. I cast a look around. Behind me stood the ruins of the Maven Watchtower, used long ago in the War of the Gemstones. Now it lay dead, its stones asunder and covered over in brown ivy and moss, the bones of its slain watchmen picked clean by the birds.

               Unmoved, I turned my gaze away from it, and down into the valley before me.

               Far, far across, clouded by mist, the face of Mount Solem arose like a great wall. In the depths of the valley, between Solem and Stell, like a great crack in the earth, wove the Sopor River, its edges frozen, trees crowding its banks. I traced the upward slant of the foothills of Stell with my sharp gaze, watching the ripples in the forest and the protrusions of the stones, until I found the Castle Astrum.

               There it stood, as if it had grown from the living stone of the mountain. Dozens of piercing towers, like arrows poised to launch to the heavens, their caps blue as sapphire, their stone white as snow. Balconies and arched corridors adorned its walls like lace, colored windows decorated it like jewelry. But all those windows lay dark, for none inside were awake, save the watchman—and I could glimpse his single torch from one of the tower tops, winking like the faraway eye of an owl.

               I smiled to myself.

               He would be the first to be surprised, then.

               I unrolled the parchment, glancing across my careful writing by the light of the moon. As I did, a snowflake landed upon my glove. I glanced up. The sky was clear, but the low-hanging mist had begun to crystalize, filling the air with a deep and intimate silence.

Read this book: https://www.amazon.com/Curse-Maker-Tale-Gwiddon-Crow-Curse-Breaker-ebook/dp/B07N7V3K4T/ref=pd_sbs_351_5/146-6363556-3395043?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=B07N7V3K4T&pd_rd_r=51133e1c-5438-4cae-bec3-a817e25bb633&pd_rd_w=kiB1I&pd_rd_wg=f02WA&pf_rd_p=52b7592c-2dc9-4ac6-84d4-4bda6360045e&pf_rd_r=V09XKRH01FN9CDDVNS72&psc=1&refRID=V09XKRH01FN9CDDVNS72

[homestuck-human-generator]

Name: Mrs. Cruz Barnes Color: Seafoam #3ded97 Symbol: diamond Strife Specibus: wordkind Handle: griefstruckAlloy Animal: muntjac Pronouns: they/them Age: 13 Birthday: 355th day of the year Sexuality: gay Interests: shuffleboard and safari Dream Moon: derse Classpect: Thief of Blood Land: Land of Gold and Wrath, a borrish place, with tasty Green Tree Python consorts. It is a place full of forests and mysterious beeping. Typheus lurks at it's core. Instrument: aerophone