#draconem

[a-malvac]

Dragon - color markers, 2014. . . . . #dibujos #drawings #desenhos #dessins #الرسومات #图纸 #zeichnungen #σχέδια #ζωγραφικής #שרטוטים #図面 #그림들 #рисунки #dragon #draconem #markers #colormarker #colors #notebook #fromschool #quito #ecuador #cumbaya (at Distrito Metropolitano de Quito) https://www.instagram.com/p/B4XopFsAKMv/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[mrsnerdygirl]

House of Black names >

Bellatrix

The name Bellatrix derives from a Latin word meaning “female warrior.”

Its Arabic name, Al Najīd, means “the leader,” because it is the first of the constellation’s bright stars to rise in the sky. In Arab legends, the star is also called a roaring lion.

The star is sometimes referred to as the Amazon Star. The Amazons were female warriors sometimes said to be the daughters of Ares, the Greek god of war. 

Regulus

The star Regulus is part of the constellation Leo, the Lion.

In Arabic, the name of the star means “the heart of the lion.”The name

“Regulus” also means “little king,”

Sirius

Sirius means “glowing” or “scorching.” The name might also be linked to Osiris, the Egyptian god of the underworld.

Additionally, the star Sirius was regarded as a bad omen in ancient times

Andromeda

The constellation Andromeda is one of the largest in the sky, and the name means “ruler of men.”

 However, there is a connection with her mythological counterpart. The princess Andromeda was imperiled by her mother’s actions but saved by a kind man, whom she married and had a happy life with.

Orion

Orion is a name of Greek origin, meaning “heaven's light.” In Greek mythology, Orion was a mighty hunter and the son of Poseidon before Zeus placed him among the stars as the constellation of Orion.

In ancient myths and legends, the constellation was often associated with swans and birds, and was seen as a symbol of transformation and rebirth.

Alphard

The name Alphard is derived from the Arabic Al Fard al Shuja, meaning “the solitary one in the serpent,” because there are no other bright stars in its immediate vicinity.

In Chinese mythology, Alphard belonged to a large group of stars called the Red Bird.

Arcturus

The name Arcturus is Latinised from the ancient Greek Ἀρκτοῦρος (Arktouros) and means "Guardian of the Bear".

Draco

Despite its size and designation as the eighth-largest constellation, Draco, the "dragon" constellation, is not especially prominent. The name is derived from the Latin term draconem, meaning "huge serpent," and the constellation literally snakes its way through the northern sky.

[theserpens]

Drarry Fic Rec: Part Fourteen

Such Great Heights by aideomai 93,302 words, E

Draco Malfoy, wide-eyed and pale and in a decidedly ragged shirt, was crouched next to the pile of whatever the dragon had been eating. Harry threw himself to a halt and yelled, “Merlin, how many times do I have to save your life?”

Men Who Love Dragons Too Much by @fencer-x 522,850 words, E

‘Kill Albus Dumbledore’ is less a challenging task and more a suicide mission, so when Draco Malfoy is presented with the option to either dispatch his Headmaster or suffer an excruciating and most ignominious death of his own, along with his parents, he reaches deep into his black little Slytherin heart and manages to scrape together enough courage to go with option C instead: Spend Sixth Year secretly studying Animagecraft in the hopes he’ll turn into something sufficiently imposing even the Dark Lord himself won’t be able to keep Draco under his thumb. But just his luck, his Animagus form turns out to be a dragon, and a rather randy juvenile at that, intent on finding its mate: one Harry James Potter.

Draconem dormientem nunquam excitat by toomuchplor 24,689 words, M

A wizard craved a dragon’s enormous trove of treasure, and so he hid behind a tree and cast a powerful sleeping spell on the great beast — In which Harry goes on special assignment.

The theme for this Set is rather obvious: Dentist AU's. I'm just kidding. Its dragons. Big lizards, scaly cats, fire belching beasts. So, here are some of the most wonderful stories I have ever read (that also happen to include a dragon).

Firstly 'Such Great Heights' has a very special place in my heart. It is not only beautifully written and includes hilarious, witty, mean, soft and livelike characters - but it also has one of the most realistically flawed and yet somehow stupidly romantic love stories between Draco and Harry ever. Its just so ... just read it, and then re-read it. You have to! Fine, I will as well.

'Men Who Love Dragons Too Much' is honestly a great and unique retelling of book seven. It has Draco joining the trio on the horcrux-hunt and just makes its strange premise work perfectly. The characterizations are on point, the relationships are completly realistic and the love story fits very organically into the just slightly altered canon.

Finally, 'Draconem dormientem nunquam excitat' is a marvellous, enjoyable read from start to finish. Its sharply written and delivers on a fitting dynamic between middle aged Draco and Harry. Also - if you would sponteanously transform into a dragon in the middle of a street, woudn't you have some fun? Well, Draco doesn't, but I did, while reading about his struggle. So, Enjoy!

[mtlibrary]

Our assistant librarian, Jake Hearn discovered these two images while cataloguing the Library’s 18th century copy of Johannis de Fordun Scotichronicon: a 5-volume Mediaeval account of Scottish history by John Fordun (1360 – c. 1384)

The original work took the format of a Gothic manuscript, a copy of which is now housed at the British Library (Harley MS 4764).

Jake also found this old article from 1898 which provides some explanation to the two images.

“King Henry, in 1257, after marching to Chester, ‘unfurled his royal banner like a dragon {quasi draconem) which knew not how to spare, and threatened Wales with general extermination.' During the barons' war (see Blaauw, ed. 1871, pp. 190, 191), the dragon was turned against Englishmen, fulfilling, albeit by anticipation, the poetical prediction that one day they would be 'seized in the dragon's mouth' (Bower's Scotichronicon , ii. 309)”

[interretialia]

In Diem Natalem Christi draconem cupio!

Cupe aliquid quod re vera dari potest!

Fiat, amiculum cupio!

Quo colore draconem tuum esse cupis?

Rubro.

For Christmas I want a dragon!

Be realistic!

Okay, I want a boyfriend!

What color do you want your dragon?

Red.

(Versio Anglica.)

[surlifen]

he will fix your puter but it'll come back covered in slime

attack on @draconems is that right i dont know

[ooliebot]

been trying new style stuff. gift for @draconems !

[rowanmgrey-author]

Writer Q&A Tag Game

Thanks to @mthollowell-writes for the tag! Find their original post here.

1)What motivates you to write?

Mostly reading fantastic stories and becoming inspired with ideas about my own work. Also the people in my life like my sister who is also a writer; her vivid words inspire me all the time. I am also heavily motivated by my love of my characters, and a little bit of my guilt that I have not finished one of my novels (the first one) that I have been writing for soooo long.

2) A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

Shared my own work from Bloodlines.

Every day she fought the wolf for control. Every day to stop herself from hurting anyone. The wolf was the worst, most animal parts of her, and most of those dark parts wanted nothing more than vengeance. To cause the chaos and suffering done to her. Before Eron and her suspension from The Order three years ago, that’s what she did. The wolf that now sulked beneath her flesh missed the blood. Every day it tried to take control, to turn her back into a monster.

3) Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Jackal Bellare from my WIP Bloodlines. He is always my answer because he is just so fun to write. He is that character that came fully formed. Nothing to change, nothing to define, he just appeared. He is a smartass, deceptive and manipulative. He at first is very selfish because he was forced to grow up fast and was abused by his father for many years. He pushed him to achieve his own goals and basically taught Jackal that no one would love him, not even his own family. So he grew up thinking he couldn't trust anyone and that everyone he met would be angling for something. He is also ridiculously powerful as a demon and can be impatient and even petulant. And he's classist too, thinking he's better than anyone who's not at his power-level. These are all fairly awful traits, but I love him still because I know the depths of his character and that all he truly wants is friends that he can trust, a surrogate family that actually gives a shit about him.

4) What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

I love the discovery/investigation phase best I think. Imagining the world and then researching and defining what I need to. I love to learn new things, and I always do in that stage.

5) What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I would say action scenes and dialogue are my greatest strengths. I can plot as well, but I am more of a character focused writer so most of the plots are pretty simple in concept and execution. I am also not too shabby with the NSFW scenes, but I don't write detailed smut. It's not my thing anymore.

6) What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Doing tag games! no really. I love answering questions and seeing other's posts about this stuff. I also just appreciate the vibes, everyone is very friendly and inclusive and it's refreshing.

7) A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Microsoft Word has always been my go to. I really appreciate the formatting and how easy everything is. It's also great for editing. I have also used fighter's block to help me reach my goals in a fun way.

8) A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I would say Pandemonium from my novel Bloodlines. This is the planet where demons live. I really just like the lore I have built around demons in general because they are inspired by lots of things but not tied to any real-world religions or mythology. Also in that story one of the types of demons are dragons (Draconem) and they have the power to shapeshift from their real form (dragon) to a human, and change their mass even. There are also these garbage disposal-like demons that have no heads and a mouth on their chest. These are heavily inspired by Blemmyes. I even have a separate dominion for Hell, which in my series is unusually referred to as Gehenna. The realm is a prison obviously, but instead of one place, or several levels like the circles, each Hell is a separate dimension governed by Warden that has a particular specially for punishment. I also have demons that are kind of like Valkyries, they are basically the law enforcement and are super scary even to other types of demons because they can make you tell the truth just by looking into your eyes. There are Demon Kings (which in my novels is a non-gender term, just go with it) and each one has a different rank and they serve as military leaders as well. They also have cool titles, like King of Slaughter (he's the war general and most powerful warrior). I could go on for ages. I spent a lot of time on the lore around demons because originally the novels were going to take place there exclusively and the main character was a Demon King.

9) What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

I usually step away for a bit, and look at it again later. Sometimes it sparks new ideas and even makes me appreciate what I have already. I would really just advise that you don't be too hard on yourself. It's better to go slower and work smarter, so you don't burn out and end up in an uninspired state of procrastination. Goals are important too, but don't compare yourself to other writers. Make goals you know you can achieve and set times and make space to work.

10) Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters:

Obviously @dyrewrites needs to be first. She is my sister and was the one that got me on writeblr in the first place. And what an amazing community! I haven't been here long, but I can say that I get a lot of attention and really cool asks from these amazing people:

@stesierra - @aziz-reads - @digital-chance - @mthollowell-writes - @quantumlandbooks - @anonymousfoz - @another-white-hole @inkytealeafwriting - @schepper-wubs-wips - @hottubraccoon

You all are lovely people and if you want to join in on this tag please do.

[cha-mij]

It may be 3.15 am but Ineffable Ambiguity is finally finished. Check out the full story at AO3. Account name Chamij.

Ineffable Ambiguity

AO3 - Chamij

Chapter Three

Munich 1985

The air was still. The civil twilight sent scattering sunlight shining golden across the arches the Neues Rathaus. It’s spire reached high into the damp, chill air. Birds were beginning their chorus as two tired street cleaners trudged their carts along Marienplatz. The Glockenspiel band came to life to call in 5 o’clock as shadows darted over the four puttos of the Mariensäule. The cleaners’ route took them to the pillar. One (newly on the job and curious of his surroundings) hesitated. He stared at the statue. A winged boy donned in shield and helmet smote a snake. He called to his companion, who having seen it a hundred times before had kept walking.

“Ernst! Can you tell me what these are for?”

Ernst had always been enthralled by the architecture of the city so could surreptitiously provide an answer.

“They’re Puttos, Otto. Cherubs. Little chubby angels using swords to smite the trials the city faced during the occupation of the Thirty Year’s War”.

Ernst pointed to each in turn.

“There you see him striking a lion which represents war. There a basilisk for pestilence, then the dragon of hunger, and finally this one. The snake of heresy.”

Otto listened intently, then asked:

“And the shields? What does it say on the shields?”

“Each one signifies victory over the trial. This one says ‘Svper-Aspi-Dem’. Put together they form a verse from Psalm 91. Super aspidem et basiliscum ambulabis, et conculcabis leonem et draconem”.

Ernst saw Otto’s confused expression and felt abashed by his ranting.

“Sorry. I adore the architecture of the city. Always have but people either don’t ask or don’t listen, so I seldom have the chance to talk about it. This is my favourite piece, so you were either lucky or not in having me guide you tonight depending on how much you mind me rabbiting on. The latin roughly means ‘Thou shalt walk upon the asp and the basilisk: and thou shalt trample underfoot the lion and the dragon’”.

Otto was not only impressed at Ernst’s knowledge, he was also incredibly pleased that he had taken the time to answer his questions so fully. He smiled at this man. A stranger, really, who had guided him through silent streets and curiosity”.

“Thank you, Ernst. Truly. It’s rare to find someone that would just know all of that. Let alone someone that would take the time to talk about it in such detail to someone they barely know. Please feel free to rabbit on at me as much as you like whenever we’re on shift together. It truly would be a pleasure listening to you”.

Ernst was evidently flattered. He combed his hands through dark hair and smiled. That morning had started a tradition of Otto receiving what he would call his Private ‘Tour of Munich’ whenever they were on shift together. Much later, they would gaze at those puttos from the window of a Marienplatz apartment and be thankful the cherub smote the snake.

Outside the air was still. Birds began their chorus as two cleaners began a quiet love story. Munich was calm. Well, most of Munich was calm. Inside a party was winding down. What had begun early the evening before was coming to a slow end.

Black and white feathers littered the room. Countless champaign bottles lay empty on tables, floors and chairs. A few remaining guests were dancing, while others sat at tables topped with empty glasses. Several had passed out. It had been a fantastic birthday party.

If there was one thing Crowley appreciated about having to actually do hell’s bidding once in a while, it was that hell really had no idea what heaven classed as a sin in this age. This meant that they were often asked to lure the odd human to damnation by tempting them to actions no longer classed as “damnable” but more “not really the done thing but everyone’s doing it these days”.

Along the way this had introduced Crowley to many humans that they had classed as far too good for torment. Many of these he had not only protected from Hell’s gaze, but even befriended. One of these friends was currently sat beside Crowley mindlessly twirling the tassels of his epilates. Tired, red eyes looked at the small group sat around him.

“You know darlings, I have no idea how I’m going to top this one.”

A voice came from across the table.

“Whatever you do Freddie I know you’ll make it worthy of your 40th".

“Of course I will Brian. Life’s for living after all”.

“We have to get that bloody album done first Fred or that film will never get finished”.

Crowley, who having drank three times more than any other at the party half sat and half lay in the chair next to Freddie Mercury. Their long red hair lay limp from a head that dangled from the chair. Earlier in the evening they had dazzled even Freddie. This was the night of the Black and White Ball where guests were requested to dress in black and white drag attire.

The guests never could figure out how Crowley had transformed themselves so beautifully. A slim black gown hugged a slim but shapely figure. At close view it had been intricately embroidered with scales etched in black sequin. Specks of glitter highlighted elegant make up while Auburn curls twisted over two magnificent black feathered wings. The most striking detail was the eyes. Yellow with pointed pupils.

Freddie, himself dressed magnificently in harlequin trousers and imperial jacket, at first didn’t recognise his friend.

“And just might you be, darling?”

Even Crowley’s voiced had changed beyond recognition. It was soft, full, and confident.

“It’s me you bloody fool. Don’t tell me you don’t recognise me”.

Freddie was taken aback,

“Crowley! You look beautiful! Who are you meant to be?”

The demon smiled, extremely pleased with themselves.

“I couldn’t think of which celebrity I wanted to be, so I thought to hell with it, I’ll be a flying snake.”

“And a fabulous one you make too! Those wings must be really fucking heavy!”

Crowley smiled a wicked grin. He had been thinking of this joke all day. It was just a shame no one was there to understand it.

“Aye Freddie, they are a hell of a heavy burden to bear”.

The party was as wild as expected and all through the night Freddie and the other guests were impressed that even as it got hot enough for many to strip completely, Crowley never removed their wings.

Crowley raised their drooping head and slurred the question:

“What film’s this then?”

Freddie explained they had been asked to write some songs for an upcoming film about some immortal, and how there was a scene that he just could not write for.

“It’s this flashback scene. The main guy’s remembering how when he was cast out of his clan he settled in the highlands with the love of his life. It’s all gushy and romantic, and then she goes and dies of old age on him, so he burns the house down. We just can’t seem to get the feeling right.

Crowley was awake now. Awake, but not sober enough to remember the extent of their following ramble.

“Who the bloody hell wrote that crap? Who would want to live forever?”

Brian, more awake and clearer thinking than any present leaned forward.

“Why not?”

“Well, its right there in the film! All that time flies by and all that happens is that anyone close to you dies or leaves you. Everything turns to ashes and you’ll have no place to call your own.” Passionately Crowley continued. “I bet in all those centuries there was only one moment worthy enough to be worth all that crap. No one is worth waiting forever for”.

Brian and Freddie were listening intently to this. Brian dared to ask what Crowley thought would count as something worth the wait.

Crowley seems to look inwardly. Their eyes dimmed and even their wings relaxed. Freddie thought to himself how well those feathers had lasted the night’s escapades and made a mental not to ask Crowley who supplied the wings when his friend was in a better state. For some reason the description of this flick had struck a nerve. A very raw nerve.

Crowley gave a sad smile.

“Stars.”

“Stars?” this was said in unison.

“One day soon I bet there’s going to be a camera good enough to really see the stars for what they are. Not just stars but whole galaxies. Nebulas even.”

Brian’s curiosity was piqued.

“What’s a nebula Crowley?”

Again, a sad smile.

“It's where stars are born. I bet if you ever get to see them, you’d think that was worth waiting forever for”.

Freddie looked at his dear friend. He wondered now who had hurt them so badly and saw in them a grief and loneliness he had never seen before. Freddie, not knowing the half of Crowley’s true self, decided they must be in love, and an unrequited love at that.

“Who are they, Crowley?” He asked softly.

But it was too late. Crowley had fallen into a drunken stupor, but Freddie had seen the tear that had escaped.

About a year later a parcel arrived at Crowley’s flat. Attached to a copy of “It’s a Kind of Magic” was a note that read:

“Hello sweetie. Don’t be mad but your theory on forever was exactly what Brian needed for that song we needed. Side two, song one. Thank you, Crowley. It can be worth it you know. Waiting. And everyone deserves to be waited for.

Much love, Freddie”

Crowley had completely forgotten about that night’s confession but was grateful for Freddie’s touching sentiment. However, they never allowed themselves to listen to that song sober, and Bentley never played it.

Crowley wasn’t there when Freddie passed. The old habit of moving on when people started to notice a distinct lack of aging had forced them to back away, but upon hearing the news Crowley shut themselves away for two weeks.

“You were far too much of a treasure Freddie. Enjoy the good afterlife. If there’s one thing, I know for certain it’s that you’re not in the alternative”.

Years later Crowley was surprised to find out that Brian May had studied astrophysics. The conversation had popped up in Bentley when Aziraphale had mentioned it.

“Bugger if I know why he’d go and do that, Angel. Mind you, he always was a clever bastard”.

During the drive a miracle sound chimed, though too quiet for even angels or demons to hear. Bently skipped the song that was currently playing in favour of “You’re my best friend” and Freddie smiled in the good afterlife.

“Finally. Even you can’t wait forever, Crowley”.

[mundoemchamas]

Lista de livros NACIONAL favorito de 2022

Extrato Cósmico

Livro Da Ilusão (Rio De Sangue E Magia 1)

Kernos (Filhos Do Acordo Livro 1)

Marcas Do Destino (Draconem Livro 1)

Chá De Sumiço

Jornada De Fúrias: Guerra Dos Exilados (1)

Alegórico Das 5:30

O Segredo Do Ceo

Lebre Da Madrugada

Perfume De Fogo

Um Pássaro Feito De Céu

Os Mortos Herdarão A Terra

Todos Os Caminhos Me Levam A Ti: Clube Dos Corações Partidos

A Lagoa: Coleção Carcarás

As Cores Primárias

A Feiticeira De São Judas Tadeu Dos Milagres

O Mistério Do Carneiro De Ouro

Toda Magia

Camomila

Invocação (Amantes De Eldritch Livro 1)

Sobre Namoradas E Lobos

As Bruxas Do Meu Quintal

Te Vejo Na Final

Brilhante

Todas As Mentiras Que Eu Nunca Quis Contar

Junho Te Trouxe Aqui

Apito Final

O Gato Rosa

Não Me Encontre Quando O Sol Nascer

Recomendo a todos

E bem barato esses ebooks, fora que alguns estão k.u da Amazon

😉

[sitp-recs]

I just want you to know what a treasure you are to this fandom. Your recs and posts hold such a special place in my heart! Truly! That is why I wanted to supply the word “treasure” for your word prompt.

Thank you for all that you do!

Oh wow this was so lovely, anon! Thank you, I’m a bit emo now 🥹 this was a challenging word but I’m really happy with how this turned out, I hope you enjoy my picks!

The Odd Couple by @maesterchill (M, 943 words)

Draco is looking for Harry when he spots it. It's peculiar. And therefore perfect.

Little Lost Things by flightinflame (T, 10k)

Draco has been waiting his entire life for the first treasure from his soulmate. When he's six and a Muggle coin appears, it seems like everything is going to go wrong.

Draconem dormientem nunquam excitat by toomuchplor (M, 24.6k)

A wizard craved a dragon’s enormous trove of treasure, and so he hid behind a tree and cast a powerful sleeping spell on the great beast.

[jbfly46]

St. Micheal's Prayer

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

Princeps gloriosissime caelestium exercituum, Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in praelio contra principatus et potestates, contra mundi rectores tenebrarum harum, contra spiritualia nequitiae in caelestibus."

"Veni in auxilium hominum quos Deus creavit inexterminabiles, et ad imaginem similitudinis suae fecit, et a tyrannide diaboli emit pretio magno. Te custodem et patronum sancta veneratur Ecclesia; tibi tradidit Dominus animas redemptorum in superna felicitate locandas. Deprecare Deum pacis, ut conterat Satanam sub pedibus nostris, ne ultra valeat captivos tenere homines, et Ecclesiae nocere. Offer nostras preces in conspectu Altissimi, ut cito anticipent nos misericordiae Domini, et apprehendas draconem, serpentem antiquum, qui est diabolus et Satanas, ac ligatum mittas in abyssum, ut non seducat amplius gentes.

[draquus]

Cimorene has never handled boredom well.

Oh, she could manage it. She had spent the first sixteen years of her life bored a great deal of the time. She had read whenever, and whatever she could. She had attacked even her dullest lessons with a will, determined to master them even when she hated them. When mastery of etiquette and embroidery came too easily, she had managed to sneak in things like magic and cooking, and even when her father stopped them, at least she had the challenge of acquiring the next improper subject.

The boredom of motherhood, on the other hand, was a completely different matter. For one thing, it was the first time in her life she had ever felt guilty for being bored. After all, she loved Daystar. She loved him far, far more than she had ever loved fencing or Latin. And it wasn’t as if her life wasn’t full of useful things to do, taking care of him, herself, and their little home. But he wasn’t much good for conversation, even once he started to put words together. It was hard, when she had to sit still to nurse him, or because she was too exhausted to do anything else, to be too tired even to think, let alone to read about dragon history or conjugate Latin.

More than bored, she realized, she was lonely. She still had the occasional call from Morwen or Kazul, but neither of them could talk often. Even when they did, she had nothing to talk about except Daystar, and discussing the life and politics of the Mountains of Morning or the Enchanted Forest felt very distant. She couldn’t help them in anything except what she was already doing: raising Daystar and hoping their plan succeeded.

She missed Mendanbar more than anything. Kazul had been her first real friend, and Morwen was someone she could always count on. She even appreciated Telemain’s occasional letters, for all they could be harder to parse than the Historia Draconem. But Mendanbar had been the first person in her life who had really understood her. They hardly spent a day apart between their first meeting and the disastrous journey to find the sword. She had gotten to be his wife for only a little more than a year.

“I’m still his wife,” she reminded herself, “and Queen of the Enchanted Forest. I’ve gotten every good thing in my life that I ever wanted, and more besides. I will not sit here and be gloomy while there’s work to be done.” And she would go sweep the house or bake bread or gather herbs, with Daystar on her hip or toddling after, until she felt better.

Things got better as Daystar grew older. Teaching him to read, write, fence, and even do magic was much more the sort of challenge that Cimorene was suited to. Not that it always went smoothly. Daystar hated Latin more than anything since he first tried squash when he was one, and had inherited every ounce of Cimorene’s (and Mendanbar’s) stubbornness.

Almost worse, he took to etiquette like a duck to water, and Cimorene found herself having to acquire and review many books on the subject she would have rather never seen again. She did find, however, that it was not so bad teaching it as learning it, since it was much easier to see the practical applications when it wasn’t all fogged in “you must do this because it’s proper and I said so.” Still, she made sure to enrich her lessons with points on when and where it was appropriate to throw etiquette out the window and say what you meant.

The hardest part was training Daystar for a future she could neither be sure of nor even tell him about. She was training a hero and the next King of the Enchanted Forest in a cottage by herself, but she was also raising Daystar the boy, who would one day be a man. Would he resent being forced into a completely different life, when the time came? She had left everything to live with the dragons, but that had been her choice. Would the sword even choose him, if it wasn’t what he wanted? What if she lost Mendanbar for good? Or worse, what if he failed, and she lost both of them?

Thoughts like that didn’t really help anything, so when they started to swirl, she found work to do. Daystar must have thought her very industrious, getting up a 4 o’clock to do dishes or bring water from the stream. He never knew it was usually because she’d been lying awake for an hour already, and had given up on going back to sleep.

The years seemed to speed up as Daystar passed his tenth birthday. Now he was an actual help around the house, and someone to talk to as well as to teach. She gave him more freedom and more responsibility, even when part of her heart wanted to keep him safe and protected. It would do no good to save him from falling out of a tee or being bitten by a snake, only to have him murdered by a wizard later because he couldn’t take a risk or think independently. In actual fact, he became a fairly careful and industrious child, and she was both glad to not have to mend broken bones, and worried he might lack the boldness for the task ahead.

She had thought of giving him the sword on his fifteenth birthday, but the day came and went. He just wasn’t ready yet, and she hid both her frustration and her relief. His sixteenth birthday also passed, and still the time didn’t feel right. She began to worry that she was stalling out of fear, but deep down she knew that he wasn’t quite there yet. One morning, she woke with a strange sense of watchfulness. She went about her day, but she could feel that something had shifted, outside in the Forest, or maybe in her own heart. She almost wasn’t surprised when Antorell shattered the front door.

[monkeyssalad-blog]

L0072348 Page 34 from "Thesaurus thesaurorum et secretum by The Public Domain Review Via Flickr: L0072348 Page 34 from "Thesaurus thesaurorum et secretum Credit: Wellcome Library, London. Wellcome Images images@wellcome.ac.uk wellcomeimages.org Page 34 headed: Et apprehendit Draconem / Serpentein antiquani(?) / Apoc. XX Two drawings: the first depicting a rainbow and a warrior standing on a cloud attacking three monsters (a bird, serpent and a demon); the second depicting scientific appartus TITLE OF MANUSCRIPT: "Thesaurus thesaurorum et secretum secretissimum in quo omnia Mundi arcana latent, quodque Deus per ineffabilem suam misericordiam homini vili et abjecto peccatorique maximo revelavit. Lapidis Philosophorum verus processus", unknown author, written c.1725 DESCRIPTION: Illustrated with numerous symbolic alchemical water-colour drawings, and figures of chemical and alchemical apparatus: a circular symbolic figure on p. 83 is by a different and later hand. The text and the legends to the illustrations are in Latin, but there are a few additions in verse in German. The title given above is that found on p. 7 at the beginning of the text. There is a title in an unresolved cypher on p. 1 of which the following only is en clair: 'S.N.D.B.L.E./..../Philoponus P...A...B...' Below the title to the second work (p. 93) is written 'Mei Magistri colendissimi piae memoriae'. CUSTODIAL HISTORY: A former owner, Michelangelo Guatani of Bologna, has transcribed the Latin title on the outside of the upper cover, stating he had acquired the MS. in March 1874. He has also written a note on the first fly-leaf concerning Joannes Philoponus, an Alexandrian Christian philosopher who flourished in the first half of the sixth century, and wrote Commentaries on Aristotle, and other philosophical and scientific works, which are mostly unpublished. Guatani's note is extracted from the 'Nouvelle biographie universelle': there seems however, to be no possible connection between the Alexandrian philosopher and the author or contents of this manuscript. Purchased by the Wellc

[deadtower]

hi pls let me know what u think of my little pokemon project

[cha-mij]

Ineffable Ambiguity

Chapter 3

AO3 user Chamij

Munich: 1985

The air was still. The civil twilight sent scattering sunlight shining golden across the arches the Neues Rathaus. It’s spire reached high into the damp, chill air. Birds were beginning their chorus as two tired street cleaners trudged their carts along Marienplatz. The Glockenspiel band came to life to call in 5 o’clock as shadows darted over the four puttos of the Mariensäule. The cleaners’ route took them to the pillar. One (newly on the job and curious of his surroundings) hesitated. He stared at the statue. A winged boy donned in shield and helmet smote a snake. He called to his companion, who having seen it a hundred times before had kept walking.

“Ernst! Can you tell me what these are for?”

Ernst had always been enthralled by the architecture of the city so could surreptitiously provide an answer.

“They’re Puttos, Otto. Cherubs. Little chubby angels using swords to smite the trials the city faced during the occupation of the Thirty Year’s War”.

Ernst pointed to each in turn.

“There you see him striking a lion which represents war. There a basilisk for pestilence, then the dragon of hunger, and finally this one. The snake of heresy.”

Otto listened intently, then asked:

“And the shields? What does it say on the shields?”

“Each one signifies victory over the trial. This one says ‘Svper-Aspi-Dem’. Put together they form a verse from Psalm 91. Super aspidem et basiliscum ambulabis, et conculcabis leonem et draconem”.

Ernst saw Otto’s confused expression and felt abashed by his ranting.

“Sorry. I adore the architecture of the city. Always have but people either don’t ask or don’t listen, so I seldom have the chance to talk about it. This is my favourite piece, so you were either lucky or not in having me guide you tonight depending on how much you mind me rabbiting on. The latin roughly means ‘Thou shalt walk upon the asp and the basilisk: and thou shalt trample underfoot the lion and the dragon’”.

Otto was not only impressed at Ernst’s knowledge, he was also incredibly pleased that he had taken the time to answer his questions so fully. He smiled at this man. A stranger, really, who had guided him through silent streets and curiosity”.

“Thank you, Ernst. Truly. It’s rare to find someone that would just know all of that. Let alone someone that would take the time to talk about it in such detail to someone they barely know. Please feel free to rabbit on at me as much as you like whenever we’re on shift together. It truly would be a pleasure listening to you”.

Ernst was evidently flattered. He combed his hands through dark hair and smiled. That morning had started a tradition of Otto receiving what he would call his Private ‘Tour of Munich’ whenever they were on shift together. Much later, they would gaze at those puttos from the window of a Marienplatz apartment and be thankful the cherub smote the snake.

Outside the air was still. Birds began their chorus as two cleaners began a quiet love story. Munich was calm. Well, most of Munich was calm. Inside a party was winding down. What had begun early the evening before was coming to a slow end.

Black and white feathers littered the room. Countless champaign bottles lay empty on tables, floors and chairs. A few remaining guests were dancing, while others sat at tables topped with empty glasses. Several had passed out. It had been a fantastic birthday party.

If there was one thing Crowley appreciated about having to actually do hell’s bidding once in a while, it was that hell really had no idea what heaven classed as a sin in this age. This meant that they were often asked to lure the odd human to damnation by tempting them to actions no longer classed as “damnable” but more “not really the done thing but everyone’s doing it these days”.

Along the way this had introduced Crowley to many humans that they had classed as far too good for torment. Many of these he had not only protected from Hell’s gaze, but even befriended. One of these friends was currently sat beside Crowley mindlessly twirling the tassels of his epaulets. Tired, red eyes looked at the small group sat around him.

“You know darlings, I have no idea how I’m going to top this one.”

A voice came from across the table.

“Whatever you do Freddie I know you’ll make it worthy of your 40th".

“Of course I will Brian. Life’s for living after all”.

“We have to get that bloody album done first Fred or that film will never get finished”.

Crowley, who having drank three times more than any other at the party half sat and half lay in the chair next to Freddie Mercury. Their long red hair lay limp from a head that dangled from the chair. Earlier in the evening they had dazzled even Freddie. This was the night of the Black and White Ball where guests were requested to dress in black and white drag attire.

The guests never could figure out how Crowley had transformed themselves so beautifully. A slim black gown hugged a slim but shapely figure. At close view it had been intricately embroidered with scales etched in black sequin. Specks of glitter highlighted elegant make up while Auburn curls twisted over two magnificent black feathered wings. The most striking detail was the eyes. Yellow with pointed pupils.

Freddie, himself dressed magnificently in harlequin trousers and imperial jacket, at first didn’t recognise his friend.

“And just might you be, darling?”

Even Crowley’s voiced had changed beyond recognition. It was soft, full, and confident.

“It’s me you bloody fool. Don’t tell me you don’t recognise me”.

Freddie was taken aback,

“Crowley! You look beautiful! Who are you meant to be?”

The demon smiled, extremely pleased with themselves.

“I couldn’t think of which celebrity I wanted to be, so I thought to hell with it, I’ll be a flying snake.”

“And a fabulous one you make too! Those wings must be really fucking heavy!”

Crowley smiled a wicked grin. He had been thinking of this joke all day. It was just a shame no one was there to understand it.

“Aye Freddie, they are a hell of a heavy burden to bear”.

The party was as wild as expected and all through the night Freddie and the other guests were impressed that even as it got hot enough for many to strip completely, Crowley never removed their wings.

Crowley raised their drooping head and slurred the question:

“What film’s this then?”

Freddie explained they had been asked to write some songs for an upcoming film about some immortal, and how there was a scene that he just could not write for.

“It’s this flashback scene. The main guy’s remembering how when he was cast out of his clan he settled in the highlands with the love of his life. It’s all gushy and romantic, and then she goes and dies of old age on him, so he burns the house down. We just can’t seem to get the feeling right.

Crowley was awake now. Awake, but not sober enough to remember the extent of their following ramble.

“Who the bloody hell wrote that crap? Who would want to live forever?”

Brian, more awake and clearer thinking than any present leaned forward.

“Why not?”

“Well, its right there in the film! All that time flies by and all that happens is that anyone close to you dies or leaves you. Everything turns to ashes and you’ll have no place to call your own.” Passionately Crowley continued. “I bet in all those centuries there was only one moment worthy enough to be worth all that crap. No one is worth waiting forever for”.

Brian and Freddie were listening intently to this. Brian dared to ask what Crowley thought would count as something worth the wait.

Crowley seems to look inwardly. Their eyes dimmed and even their wings relaxed. Freddie thought to himself how well those feathers had lasted the night’s escapades and made a mental not to ask Crowley who supplied the wings when his friend was in a better state. For some reason the description of this flick had struck a nerve. A very raw nerve.

Crowley gave a sad smile.

“Stars.”

“Stars?” this was said in unison.

“One day soon I bet there’s going to be a camera good enough to really see the stars for what they are. Not just stars but whole galaxies. Nebulas, even.”

Brian’s curiosity was piqued.

“What’s a nebula Crowley?”

Again, a sad smile.

“It's where stars are born. I bet if you ever get to see them, you’d think that was worth waiting forever for”.

Freddie looked at his dear friend. He wondered now who had hurt them so badly and saw in them a grief and loneliness he had never seen before. Freddie, not knowing the half of Crowley’s true self, decided they must be in love, and an unrequited love at that.

“Who are they, Crowley?” He asked softly.

But it was too late. Crowley had fallen into a drunken stupor, but Freddie had seen the tear that had escaped.

About a year later a parcel arrived at Crowley’s flat. Attached to a copy of “It’s a Kind of Magic” was a note that read:

“Hello sweetie. Don’t be mad but your theory on forever was exactly what Brian needed for that song we needed. Side two, song one. Thank you, Crowley. It can be worth it you know. Waiting. And everyone deserves to be waited for.

Much love, Freddie”

Crowley had completely forgotten about that night’s confession but was grateful for Freddie’s touching sentiment. However, they never allowed themselves to listen to that song sober, and Bentley never played it.

Crowley wasn’t there when Freddie passed. The old habit of moving on when people started to notice a distinct lack of aging had forced them to back away, but upon hearing the news Crowley shut themselves away for two weeks.

“You were far too much of a treasure Freddie. Enjoy the good afterlife. If there’s one thing, I know for certain it’s that you’re not in the alternative”.

Years later Crowley was surprised to find out that Brian May had studied astrophysics. The conversation had popped up in Bentley when Aziraphale had mentioned it.

“Bugger if I know why he’d go and do that, Angel. Mind you, he always was a clever bastard”.

During the drive a miracle sound chimed, though too quiet for even angels or demons to hear. Bentley skipped the song that was currently playing in favour of “You’re my best friend” and somewhere in the good afterlife Freddie Mercury smiled.

“Finally. Even you can’t wait forever, Crowley”.

my favourite good omens hc is and will forever be that crowley personally met freddie mercury and hozier (during their respective eras) and waxed poetic about aziraphale so much that they used his words in their lyrics