#they teach him to shape trees and animals and secrets and it's out of respect and love

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

the way the Riddle-Master trilogy is about Morgon but just as much, if not more than that, it's about the people who love Morgon

[flamingsemi]

Animal Crossing: New Horizons Declassified Island Survival Guide From a Seasoned AC Veteran

A friend of mine recently bought ACNH and was very confused as this was her first foray into AC, so I made this info dump guide. I thought somebody else in the world might be able to benefit from it as well. Hope you enjoy! Happy Animal Crossing-ing!

Daily Tasks:

Talk to your islanders. talking to them, completing favors, and giving them gifts will increase your friendship level. Don’t forget to check up on villagers that are inside their houses! They might be crafting a DIY and they will give you the recipe if you talk to them!

Shopping. Everyday the items in the shops will change, this include the items on the nook store, accessible through the Nook Kiosk in town hall/the tent in the plaza

Log on to the Nook Kiosk every day for free nook miles!!!

Walk your beaches. You’ll find shells, and a message in a bottle with a DIY will spawn every day.

Watering flowers. Watering your flowers will lead to hybrids growing. this is how you get colors of flowers such as purple and orange, etc. If it rains, you don’t have to water the flowers, but if you do, then you have a higher chance of hybrids growing.

Money Rock. Every day there will be a money rock. hit it with your ax or shovel (I use the shovel) for cash. Don’t forget to dig a barricade behind yourself to keep you from sliding so you can get all 8 hits in. 

Money tree. Every day there will be a glowing fissure on the ground. Dig it up and you’ll find bells. HOWEVER DO NOT FILL THE HOLE. Instead, bury bells there. This will result in a nursery money tree growing. Trees take 4 days to grow. IMPORTANT AND I DIDN’T KNOW THIS AT FIRST money trees will only grow money once, so after you’ve collected the bells, it’s just a regular tree. I personally have four money trees with one being used and then replaced every day for an endless loop. However many bells you bury is how much money will grow X3, however keep in mind that sometimes it will only grow bags of 10,000 bells, despite planting more than that. To be safe, never go above 50,000 bells, as the likelihood of not getting back what you buried seems to increase after that, but do whatever you’re comfortable with. 

Fossils. Everyday you will see star-shaped markings on the ground throughout your island. Those markings indicate that a fossil is buried in that spot. Dig it up! Then, (once he is unlocked on your island which shouldn’t be too far off) take your fossils to Blathers at the museum to get them assessed. He will tell you what the fossil is. From there they can be donated to the museum if it doesn’t have that fossil yet, or if you already have it you can place it on your island or you can sell it. ALWAYS GET YOUR FOSSILS ASSESSED BEFORE SELLING THEM. An unidentified fossil is only worth a few hundred bells, where an identified fossil is worth a varying couple thousand depending on what it is. There will be 4, sometimes 5, fossils to find on your island everyday.

Catch bugs and fish! bugs and fish spawn throughout your island everyday all day. Different bugs and fish have different conditions for spawning. Some spawn all day in any weather, some only can appear at night, others only during the day. Certain fish only are catchable in the rain. Also most bugs and fish are seasonal, with new bugs and fish being able to be caught every month. Donate your fish and bugs to Blathers to fill up your museum, and sell the rest! It’s one of the main ways to make money. 

Dive for scallops! Go swimming and dive for sea critters. If you catch a scallop and you have space in you pockets, Pascal the otter will spawn and ask you for it. In return he will give you either a pearl or a special DIY recipe. He will spawn once a day. Also the critters you catch can be donated to the museum and also sold.

Not daily tasks:

* Potential weekly visitors include Leif, Kicks, Sahara, Flick, C.J., Gulliver, Gulllivar, Label, and Redd. Characters that can be found on the Plaza are Leif, Kicks, and Label. Leif is a sloth who will sell you plants, Kicks is a skunk who will sell you bags and shoes, and Label is a hedgehog who will ask you for fashion help. Characters that can be found wandering around your island are Sahara, Flick, and C.J. Sahara is a camel who will sell floorings, wallpapers, and rugs, Flick is a chameleon who you can sell bugs to, and C.J. is a beaver you can sell fish to. Both Flick and C.J. will buy their respective creatures for a higher price than the Nooklings will so it may be a good idea to save your bugs and fish for when they visit to make bank XD. Another character that you will initially find wandering around your island is Redd. Redd is fox who you will unlock later after you have donated enough stuff to your museum. Once you have, you will see him wandering around your island. Talk to him, and then the next day his boat will appear at your secret beach which is the tiny stretch of beach off by itself. Redd will sell you art work which can be donated to your museum. BE CAREFUL Redd will sell fake artwork!!! You can only donate real artwork, so choose wisely, as one player can only purchase one piece of art per Redd visit. Other players can purchase one piece of art from him too though. Gulliver and Gullivar are seagulls you will find washed up on your beach. Talk to them or hit them with a net until they wake up (just keep at it!) Talk to them and they will explain what you need to do for them. If you complete the task, you can expect a letter and a gift from them in the mail the following day. You will get one of these visiting characters everyday save for when K.K. Slider is in town. They are random, but characters that did not make an appearance one week are more likely to show up the next.

if you’re early enough in the game that the clothing store is still a visiting event, One day you’ll walk into the Nooklings and see a Hedgehog. After that, the hedgehog will be selling clothes in the plaza on random days. After I think 3 visits she will ask you about setting up a permanent shop. After that, this is store you can buy clothes from, clothes change every day so check often!

General tips:

Don’t sprint near water if you are looking for fish. Sprinting will scare the fish away.

Just regular running and walking will scare away bugs that spawn on trees, stumps, and flowers, so proceed with caution when hunting for bugs. When holding a bug net, hold down A while you walk to creep towards bugs without scaring them away. Release A to swing your net. Bugs like butterflies, dragonflies, and bugs that spawn on the ground will not disappear when scared, they will just try to get away.

Fishing tip if you find yourself struggling: it’s easy to get trigger happy when fishing. Something I do to make it easier is closing my eyes and relying on the rumble of the joy con and the sound of the of the bite. You register sound better than you do visual cues. This is how I catch all fish cause I get to nervous and anticipate bites.

If a villager has a thought bubble above their head, TALK TO THEM! They have something important to say! They either are thinking about moving (which you can encourage or tell them to stay) or want to give you something. 

The same goes for if a villager runs towards you calling your name to get your attention. They either have a reaction to teach you, or a gift!

Don’t be upset with your island layout. Eventually you will unlock terraforming which will allow you to destroy and create rivers, cliffs, and pathways anywhere you want. The only thing you cannot change is the plaza, and the mouths of your rivers. You can also build inclines and bridges, and move the museum, shops, campsite, and houses, at any time so long as you have the bells. You can only build one bridge or incline a day though, and the same goes for moving buildings. 

Eating fruit will give you strength. With that strength, you can destroy rocks by hitting them with your shovel or ax (they will respawn in a different location the next day) and pick up entire trees with your shovel.

a stone axe will allow you to hit a tree indefinitely, but just an iron Axe will cut down the tree in 3 hits, so don’t farm for wood with the iron Axe! also you can remove stumps with your shovel

when filling a hole, press Y to use your foot to cover the hole instead of using your shovel. This will increase the longevity of your shovel.

BE CAREFUL WHEN SHAKING TREES!!! There is a chance of a wasp nest falling! If that happens, wasps will chase you and try to sting you. You can catch the wasps with a bug net, or you can run into a building to get them to stop chasing you. If they sting you, use some medicine to heal yourself. If you get stung a second time before using medicine, you will pass out and wake up in front of your house.

IF YOU ARE GOING TREE SHAKING have the net equipped and shake the tree from the front. If a wasp nest falls, it will fall to either side of you (or right on top of you but it doesn’t matter.) Your character will turn to face the wasps. Immediately after your shocked animation, swing your net to catch the wasps. 

2 items will spawn in 2 random, non-fruit-baring trees on your island everyday. Shake trees (with a net equipped in case of wasps!) and there’s a chance an item leaf will drift down. 

On mystery islands there will be 1 item in a non-fruit-baring tree. Same tactics suggested as seen above

Don’t be afraid of spiders and scorpions.  They will only try to bite/sting you if you are holding a bug net, otherwise they will ignore you. You should try to catch them if you are comfortable doing so though, as you can donate them to the museum and you can sell them (they are expensive! more so if you sell them to Flick!) Just creep up to them slowly and you’ll catch them just fine.

Depending on the season, there will be some special materials floating around your island that you can catch with your bug net. This include snowflakes in the winter and cherry tree petals in the spring. I assume there might be some falling leaves in autumn, but I haven’t experienced autumn in the game yet so I can’t say for sure. 

To raise your island’s star level, there are two major things to do. One, put flowers freaking everywhere. Two, put furniture FREAKING EVERYWHERE. your beaches, your plains, your mountains, DECORATE EVERYWHERE!!!!

Every sunday before noon, there will be a little piglet girl walking around your island. She is selling turnips. This is the way to MAKE BANK in Animal Crossing. the turnips are meant to be sold in The Stalk Market (get it?). Everyday (save for sunday) you will be able to sell your turnips to the Nooklings. The price of the turnips changes twice a day every day, the change occurs at noon. the idea is to buy turnips low and sell turnips high. the buying price of turnips will range from around 90 to 110 bells every week. The selling price will range from like 30 bells to like 700 something. Obviously, the higher the better. IMPORTANT! Turnips go bad after one week, upon which they are worthless. Make sure to sell your turnips before the next sunday!! However I would allow one stack of turnips to go bad once as this is how you catch ants. Drop the rotten turnips outside and ants will spawn on it. The same goes for catching flies, just drop some trash outside. BUT DON’T LEAVE THE TRASH FOREVER it will lower the star rating of your island.

Never sell things to the Nooklings via the drop box unless you have to. Selling via drop box comes with a like 15% reduction on the sell price, so you won’t get as many bells as you would if you sell to the Nooks by talking to them.

Day resets at 5 AM, not midnight, so don’t panic if you need to complete something by the end of the day and it’s almost 12.

Your villagers will teach you reactions. Aside from the 4 defaults you start with, The reactions you can learn are divided up amongst the villager types. For example, from a Normal type villager, you can learn Pleased, Fearful, Sadness, and Glee. Additionally, a villager will teach you one extra reaction if you max out your friendship level with them. If you’re best friends with a Normal type villager, they will teach you Daydreaming. So if you wanna unlock all 44 reactions, it’s important to get villagers of all different types and befriend them!

Dropping items of any kind will lower the star rating of your island if there are too many things on the ground. This includes turnips unfortunately -_-

Giving villagers gifts increase your relationship with them. But, if you wrap the gift before giving it to them, your relationship will increase by an additional point. Color of the paper doesn’t matter as far as I can tell. 

Villagers have preferred styles and colors of clothing. You can give them whatever you want, but they will particularly enjoy items that match their preferred style and colors. Villagers also really appreciate gifts on their birthday! You will be notified via the notification board in the plaza about a week in advance of a villagers birthday

See a yellow bird (daytime) or an owl (nighttime) sitting on top of your notification board in the plaza? That means there’s a new post on the board! Go read it!

Holidays occur in animal crossing too! Holidays like Halloween, Christmas, Easter, New Years, and many others have Animal Crossing equivalents. Special events and items can be experienced and obtained on these days, so make sure to check in! You should also check in on YOUR birthday ;)

All in all, Animal Crossing is what you want it to be. This is just one way of playing. You can focus on whatever you wanna focus on, and do whatever you want to do. I just went crazy covering all the bases. I’m here if you have more questions. I hope you have loads of fun!

If you’re interested in keeping track of all the stuff you have, there is a free app called ACNH Guide. It can help you keep track of what bugs and fish and fossils you have and also what bugs and fish are currently available and where to find them. You can also log items and DIYs and music and what villagers you have and mark off the rocks you’ve hit, the money tree you have planted, and the bottled message. It can also help you keep track of what days the visiting characters come. It also has a built in turnip predictor which can help you make the most money that you can! And they are adding to the app all the time. I really recommend it if you want to keep track of all the craziness. 

[timelessbian]

feels like we’re going home

i started watching the owl house last week and the tl;dr is that i do not control the hyperfixation, so this happened. this takes place immediately following 1x13, so spoilers for that episode if you haven’t seen it yet.

also on ao3

It was strange, Eda thought as she flew towards Hexside. Luz had only been around for a few short weeks, but she had already become such a fixture in Eda’s life that Eda had spent most of the day pacing the house trying not to think about how Luz was doing at school while also trying to remember how exactly she had spent her time before all of this. Neither of those pursuits had been very successful, and she breathed a sigh of relief when it was finally time to pick up Luz.

Owlbert seemed to pick up on the change in her mood instantly, and he hooted as they neared the school.

“Shut it, you,” Eda snapped. “I’m not going soft, you’re going soft.” Owlbert didn’t respond, but Eda knew her palisman well enough to know that he wasn’t convinced.

She touched down at the edge of the courtyard, a good distance away from the gaggle of parents and witchlings. No matter what Bump had promised about keeping the eyes of the Emperor’s Coven off of her, she still wasn’t exactly eager to draw any attention to herself; especially not while Luz was so new.

It only took a few minutes before Eda spotted Luz chatting with the little Blight girl. When she saw Eda, though, her face lit up and she waved as she jogged over.

“So did you have a good…woah.” Eda trailed off as she took in the bright colors on Luz’s uniform that she was pretty sure hadn’t been there this morning. “Sweet mother of isles, what the heck did you get yourself into, kid?”

“Eda, you’re not going to believe the day I had!” Luz cried. “Principal Bump put me in the potions track, but I sort of accidentally did some oracle magic and I got put in detention, but then the inspector from the Emperor’s Coven turned out to be this giant snake monster and it was eating everyone’s magic, but we saved everyone and then Principal Bump decided the track rules were outdated, so I get to study in all the tracks now!”

Her entire speech was animated in classic Luz fashion, and Eda’s head was practically spinning trying to follow everything. “Okay, you’re going to have to walk me through that again just a little bit slower, I caught, like, none of that. Who’s eating magic monsters now?”

“Not important,” Luz said. “I mean, it was, and I’ll tell you about it all tonight, but hold on, I think Jerbo and Barcus already left, but I have another friend that I think would really love to meet you. I’ll be right back.” She dashed off across the courtyard before Eda had a chance to process her words.

“More friends?!”

As if on cue, King popped out of a nearby garbage can with a soft “Weh!” There were crumbs on his paws and something purple that looked like abomination goop saturating the end of the long red tie he almost certainly hadn’t been wearing that morning. “I know, right?” he said. “That kid could make friends in an empty box.”

Eda’s hands fell to her hips as she glared at the demon. “And just what have you been doing all day? I was looking for you at the house all afternoon. Or did you just forget that you’re supposed to be working for me?”

“Listen, sister, some of us have greater vocations in life than being a witch’s errand-demon. Mine is shaping the next generation of young minds, and I think that we teachers deserve a little more respect.”

“Forget I asked,” Eda said as she rolled her eyes. She caught sight of Luz coming back towards them, leading a pale girl with thorns around her brown ponytail and…was that a fish hook for an earring? Okay, maybe Eda was a little impressed.

Luz skidded to a stop, but the girl behind her had her eyes so firmly fixed on Eda that she nearly fell into Luz. She, too, was wearing a multicolored uniform, and there was an almost reverential look in her eyes that almost made Eda a little self-conscious. Almost.

“Eda, this is my new friend, Viney. Viney, meet Eda the Owl Lady,” Luz said proudly. “But you might know her better as—”

“Lord Calamity,” Viney breathed.

“Excuse me?” Eda glanced at Luz. “What’s going on here?”

“You created the Secret Room of Shortcuts!” Viney exclaimed. “Oh man, Jerbo’s never gonna believe this.”

“The room with all the doors?” Bits of memories started to appear in the back of Eda’s mind of slipping into secret passages to get out of trouble, eavesdropping on classes and conversations, meeting Lilith in between classes sometimes just to check in.  It was her grandest achievement by far, but one of the first to be forgotten almost as soon as she had dropped out. But this was hardly the time to unpack that, so she just smirked as she said, “We used to use that for all kinds of pranks back in the day. Bump still hasn’t found it yet?”

She noticed the glint in Luz’s eyes at the word ‘we.’ There were going to be a lot of questions later tonight, but after a day of silence broken only by Hooty, she’d take it.

Viney shook her head. “Nope. A couple of older kids showed us how to access the entrance in the detention room and we’ve been using it to study all kinds of magic all year. You’re basically our hero.”

“Happy to be of service,” Eda said. “I mean, it’s not exactly setting ghosts loose in a changing room or stealing teeth, but I’m glad it’s still getting put to good use.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of pranks too,” Viney said. “Your hexed graffiti is the coolest I’ve ever seen.”

“Ha! Use it well, kid,” Eda said. “And listen, I’m glad Bump is loosening up in his old age, but if you ever want to ditch this place, the Bad Girl Coven is always accepting applications.”

“Really?” Viney’s eyes grew wide and she looked from Eda to Luz and back again, but before she could reply, someone called her name from across the courtyard and Viney sighed. “That’s my mom. I have to go.” She turned to Eda and bowed her head. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lord Calamity. See you tomorrow, Luz!” She turned and waved as she ran off again.

“So…,” Eda said after a long moment. “I take it school wasn’t as horrible as you thought?”

“No, it was great! I mean, aside from the basilisk almost stealing everyone’s magic and destroying the school, but as long as that’s not a regular thing, I think I’ll like it at here.”

“How in the heck did you take down a bas—” Eda stopped herself. “You know what? Maybe that’s a conversation we can have later. I’m just glad you had a good time. Which reminds me…” She paused to dig around in her hair until she found what she was looking for. It was the same round badge she had offered Luz that morning, except it had been altered to read Not a Quitter Badge. “It’s not much, but…I’m proud of you, kid.”

Luz gasped as she took the badge. “¡Es asombrosa! I love it!” She threw her arms around Eda, and even though it caught Eda more than a little off guard, she found herself hugging Luz back. After a moment that was somehow both too long and too short for Eda’s liking, Luz stepped back and pinned the badge to the front of her uniform and puffed out her chest proudly. “What do you think?”

Eda could feel her heart swell at the sight and she really hoped that Luz couldn’t tell how choked up she was as she said, “It looks great. And it’s almost certainly against the dress code, so that’s a bonus.”

The next thing Eda knew, Luz's arms were around her waist and hugging her tightly. The more surprising part, though, was that Eda had been ready for it.“Thank you, Eda,” Luz said.

Eda waved her hand nonchalantly as they broke apart. “Don’t mention it,” she said. “Just promise me you’ll beat some of my sister’s illusion records and that’ll be thanks enough.”

Luz’s face turned stony serious in an instant and she gave Eda a mock salute. “I’ll do my best,” she said.

“That’s good enough for me,” Eda said with a smile. She ruffled Luz’s hair and then dipped her staff so that they could both get on. “Now hop on,” she said. “I’ve got dinner cooking back at the house and I left Hooty watching it, so we should probably go.” She paused and frowned as she scanned the courtyard. “King!”

King scampered away from some kid’s bag lunch that had been abandoned on the cobblestones, but not without swiping a stack of cookies and leaving a trail of crumbs behind him. He hopped into the hood of Luz’s cowl and made himself comfortable. “Ugh. Teaching is rewarding and all, but I could use a vacation.”

Luz giggled and Eda rolled her eyes as Owlbert spread his wings and they lifted into the late afternoon sky.

“So,” Eda said. “In just one day you managed to get branded as a delinquent, save the school from a demon, become the first student in Hexside history to study all nine tracks, and on top of it all, you managed to break Bump’s will which is the one thing I never accomplished in my time there. How are you going to top all of that tomorrow?”

“I’m sure I’ll figure something out,” Luz replied. She was quiet for a moment, but just as the Owl House came into view between the trees, she asked, “So who’s ‘we’?”

Eda tipped the staff downward before pulling up hard just short of the grass. “Whoops, turbulence, I can’t hear you!”

Luz yelped and then laughed as they sped towards the house, and Eda couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips as they touched down in front of a house that had only recently started to feel like a home with a kid who had quickly become a far bigger part of her life than Eda had ever imagined. Maybe she really was going soft after all. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

[just-a-mod]

OK SO HIS БАБУШКА LIVES IN THE WOODS RIGHT N HABIT SPENDS A LOT OF TIME OUT THERE WITH HER BECAUSE HE DOESNT LIKE TO GO HOME RIGHT????? N SHE TEACHES HIM THINgs im so excited about this n idk why buT SHES ALSO CONSIDERED A LIL weird in the town that she goes to ta get groceries n just supplies n stuff but she likes to tell stories n stuff idk just some Food Fo Thought :)

oh absolutely.

given the fact that they probably weren’t anywhere near Mr. Habit’s parents (probably living out in some fancy fuckin house or something, idk who cares) SO they are probably closer to друид бабушка (druid grandmother as i’ll be calling her until a better name is found)

and so she’s probably just a hop skip and a jump away from the house (like a mysterious path that only her family can travel to go to her house or something. or maybe animals lead people like Boris to her cottage in the woods. perhaps even the flowers whisper and lead people the right way or astray)

her house is just a cottage that was big enough for her and her daughter (what of her husband? no body knows. they whisper she ate him, or that she stole her child away. some say she created her daughter from a flower. no one but  друид бабушка knows the truth, not even Zinnia (Habit’s mother)) so of course there is plenty of room for a small little Boris to come and rest his head, or play, or perhaps even learn the language of the earth and the secrets hidden there

she teaches him how to use his claws, much like her own, to open things and oranges and perhaps even carve apples if you have the right touch. she teaches him how to make out shapes in the darkness with his glowing eyes, so much like her own, and teaches him not to fear the darkness, but how to walk through it with his heart  calm.

she is a strange woman that many respect and equally many fear. when  друид бабушка comes to town, make sure you are on your best behavior. open the doors for your elders, be polite and say hello with a smile and a bow. if she gives you advice, wheather you asked for it or not, pay heed to what she says, and thank her. 

many have found should they break these rules, they soon and swiftly regret it.

is she a witch? is she a hag? is she a monster in disguise? no one knows, no one dares any more to find out. those who have tried to invaid her woods have run screaming out, pale and traumatized by their encounters of the dancing shadows and howling screams that fill the night around her cabin. some believe those who are lost are eaten, devoured by the dark witch and her black magic

whose to say if they are right or wrong?

but Boris still loves to see his  друид бабушка, wrapping his fingers with hers and looking at her scarred and wrinkled beans, so much like his own. so much like his and his mother’s.

his  друид бабушка makes him feel just a little less alone. a little less weird than the kids at school. her claws that can scar at trees and stones craddle his bruised face and broken smile so tenderly.

друид бабушка is always a home he can return to, this he knows, well into adult hood.

[brightsun-and-darkmidnight]

Don’t Let Go

TITLE: Don’t Let Go

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 3 / ?

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-darkmidnight as well as @melodylnoelle

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki's life if he did not let go at the rainbow bridge... (After the Bifrost being destroyed.)

RATING:  Explicit

NOTES/WARNINGS: Depression. Thoughts of suicide. Odin is a dick. Thor is an asshole but still cares about his brother. Frigga is a concerned mother but puts the image of the Odin family first. Okay… everyone still treats Loki badly.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my thoughts of what it might have been like if Loki did not let go. This is set immediately after the Bifrost being destroyed. Loki has a lot to sort through...

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

*FINALLY..Read the warnings. Once you agree you can handle it...

 ~ ~ ENJOY  ~ ~

"Loki."

He stopped and turned towards Thor with apprehension.

"There is someone I would really like you to meet."

"Meet? Who could you want me to meet?"

Sif and the other three came looking for someone then noticed Loki and Thor.

Thor studied the group and then looked as if a piece was missing. "Where is she?"

Volstag yelled, "She ran off again!"

"Perhaps she just doesn't want to talk to anyone." Sif grumbled in annoyance.

Fandral's charm showed as he spoke with high regards, "She is a shy thing but she is beautiful."

Thor smiled and patted his friend, "Fandral is not wrong." Turning to Loki, Thor smiled. "Have you met mother's new student?"

Loki thought back to the quiet girl that would be seen only with his mother and no where else. "The lady with light brown curly hair?"

Thor smiled, "Yes that one. We all think it would be amazing if you could talk to her. Try to get her out of her shell."

Loki answered with a denial, "I haven't said a word to her, neither did she to me. Now if you excuse me I am going to meet with mother."

Loki walked away with annoyance. "As if I could get acquainted to someone those fools wish me to meet."

-:-

However… Loki noticed how quiet the woman was with all the times she would be present before Loki would walk off. There was something about her that pulled Loki's gaze to her. She was nothing like Thor and his friends. She was quiet, kept her distance, respectful, and she held her head down most of the time. Loki noticed her curly thick hair seemed to always be hiding her face. The most Loki seemed to see her move was to glide her hand over the hair blocking Loki's view. She was indeed shy.

-:-

The only times Loki ever seen her was when in Frigga's presence.

As well as hearing about her constantly running away from Thor, the warriors three, and Sif.

Loki was wondering if maybe he could become a friend of hers. Loki was not one to assume a lady was not able to handle themselves but Thor could be heavily annoying. Perhaps he could learn her secrets of evasion...

Thus, it was a game of trying to see more of the unique woman. 

"What are you doing?"

Loki nearly jumped out of his skin at being found but turned with a grin.

"Hello Mother. I was looking for you." The person he was actually searching for was not with her.

"If you are looking for Alexandrite she is in the gardens underneath the elder tree."

Loki fiddled with his hand as he looked normal otherwise. "What would give you the impression I was."

Frigga rose an eyebrow with a knowing smile, "why else would you be sneaking around all of my favorite places to teach?"

"Just looking for you to discuss dinner."

Frigga hummed, "I am certain you know I go to the healing wing at this time. However, I am late so you will do me a favor. It seems to be a coincidence that she is going to be with me for dinner in my study."

Loki's eyebrows raised then furrowed, "I didn't know that."

"Of course you did not. She doesn't know yet because as my favor, you are going to ask her."

"I was asking you for dinner."

"You better go before that girl wonders off, she is very difficult to find when she doesn't want to be found."

Frigga shooed him away and Loki began his search. True to his mother's words Alexandrite was under the tree. He approached quietly but she glanced up from the book. 

"Im sorry prince Loki. The Allmother said I could stay. I can leave so you can.-"

"No. Stay." Loki gave her a smile after his quick reply. "You like this spot as well?"

"It very beautiful. Everything is pleasant here."

Loki gestured to the bench, "may I join you?"

Her eye, uncovered by hair, looked near the tree before quickly going to the book on her lap. "If I could stay."

"Of course." Loki sat and watched her read the page of a book. It was an advanced healing spell on transformation. Loki tried to read her face but most of it was covered with her hair. Loki chose not to comment on the book but would ask his mother later. That book Loki put himself into many difficult situations when he was learning how to shape shift.

-:-

Loki had slithered around the garden, awed at how everything in the garden looked so much bigger in this form.

He had finally perfected his shifting with his mother, having worked every day until she was confident that he could do it unsupervised. To celebrate, he decided just to give it a little more practice for the day in the form of one of his favorite animals.

He was, however, surprised at how the sun seemed so much brighter in this form, and decided to make his way to a nice place in the shade to admire the garden from.

He was almost there when a pair of feet appeared in front of him, and a smiling Thor beaming down on him.

Oh great.

“Well hello there, little snake.” He bent and picked Loki up at an awkward angle. “How did you come to be in the gardens?”

Loki wriggled in his grip, trying to get himself down. The more he moved, the firmer Thor’s grasp was, not willing to let him go.

Thor was overly excited. “I should bring you to my brother! He would love this.” Still holding tightly to Loki, he started running back inside.

Loki’s head bobbed to the pace of Thor’s footfalls, making him hit his head every time. It was becoming incredibly uncomfortable to remain like this. He needed to get Thor to put him down so he could turn back. He did the only thing that he could think to do.

He bit him.

“Ow!” Thor only slightly loosened his hold, but kept Loki in his hand. Rubbing his arm, he continued down the hall, at only a slightly slower pace.

Ok, that’s quite enough of this, Loki thought after another few minutes of Thor searching in vain. Thor’s hand had moved and was squeezing harshly on Loki’s lungs now, making it hard to breathe.

A glimmer of gold overtook Loki as he turned back into his normal form.

What is this?” Thor asked aloud as he let go, dropping Loki to the ground as he did.

“Ah, it’s me!” Loki stood, drawing his dagger and stabbing into Thor’s forearm, right over the bite wound. “Next time do not hold snakes so tightly, you fool. You were suffocating me!”

“How was I supposed to know it was you?”

“Well if I used my seidr right, you weren’t, but that’s not the point.”

“And the point in stabbing me was what?”

Loki shrugged. “You made me uncomfortable, I made you uncomfortable. We are equal.”

“This is what you call equal?”

“Oh, stop your sniveling, brother, you are fine.” He slid the dagger away and gestured a hand behind him. “Come on, then, I shall bring you to the healing room.”

-:-

"My mother, I, was wondering if you would like to join us for dinner." 

She paused in running her finger along the script. "That is a very nice offer." 

A smile was pulling her lips but she frowned. Loki's chest felt a little tight at the sight of the confliction in her lips. Loki shifted to try to ease himself from the sensation in his chest. An ache forming prematurely but hopefully the wrong assumption of rejection.

Her voice was quiet in her confession. "I don't like crowds and I know the dining hall is always filled..."

Loki smiled nervously. "It seems she has already taken that into consideration… She wants to eat in her study tonight."

Loki waited as Alexandrite played with her extremely thick hair. He watched her hair go back to the curls as she pulled on a strand a little. "I think I need to train more. The Allmother is planning on putting me through a test soon."

Loki hummed as he gestured to the book. A silence enveloped the area for a moment before Loki could think of how to get more time with her.

"In transformation?"

She turned her head towards him and his breath steadily left him as a calm overtook him. Her facial features were as if made with soft clay, rounded and curved to highlight her eyes. Her exposed eye was a captivating series of greens and blues. She quickly glanced away and Loki wondered if he stared at her too long. 

He hoped he did not offend her.

Although, Loki wondered what the rest of her face looked like. To see both of her eyes must be just as mesmerizing.

Her fingers gliding over an image of a wolf had Loki pondering how many forms she could take.

Finally an answer. "In sorts. She is helping me expand my transformation choices. I am pretty new to this."

Loki smiled at fond memories… "My mother is an excellent teacher. I am sure you will do well."

Alexandrite closed the book and stood with a small, but perfect, curtsey. "Thank you prince Loki. I shall try to make it for dinner. I should go practice before seeing your mother again."

Loki stood as well, "I hope to see you for dinner then, and goodluck."

She bowed her head as she walked swiftly to the farthest exit point that went to a long hall. Loki thought for a moment before going the same way. He was rude to not ask to escort her and he could help her train. Seder was not something to practice alone. 

He was about to call for her but she was already gone… 

[i-llbedammned]

Cool Heroes Don’t Look At Explosions

This is for the BuckyNat Secret Santa 2019!  This is for @nocek  !  I used the prompts “Shenanigans with Alpine and Liho.”  and “Cool heros don't look back at explosions.”  I hope you enjoy it! Title: Cool Heroes Don’t Look at Explosions Word Count: 2694 Summary:

Fic: “Come back here!” came a loud noise as with a crash a white cat ran straight through the screen door. Fast behind them came a man who would strike terror into most people- The Winter Soldier himself, albeit if he was intending to be on a mission he likely would have went with something a little bit more combat oriented than a black and red flannel and jeans. As it was he was having a time pulling on his boots while trying to catch a very determined white cat who took it upon themselves to begin their ascent up a telephone pole.

Curses mumbled in Russian emerged from Bucky’s mouth as he stared up at his companion before he switched gears, clicking and hissing gently to try and coax the animal down.“Come on Alpine, Come back down.” He crooned, only to be met with a rough “Mow” as Alpine briefly turned around to look at him before continuing on his way.

With a dexterity that is usually reserved for super spies the cat wound his way through trees, always one step ahead of Bucky Barnes. It wasn’t his fault but the cat chose to go through the most narrow passages that were covered with thorns. Every. Time. At least no one was around to see him chasing helplessly after a cat.A rustle in the bushes and he tensed up. This mountain was pretty abandoned, at least in the area he chose to live in. 

He reached for the gun at his hip, keeping his eyes on the cat and following. Assassins didn’t care if you just wanted to catch your pet.

Much to his surprise he heard a very familiar voice crooning, “Come on, Liho. You don’t even like the snow.” 

A moment later a black cat came dashing through the bushes to collide with Alpine. Fast behind followed Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow dressed in a white sweater and black leather leggings, looking just about as pleased as Bucky was to be out in the snow at the moment. His muscles relaxed and he took his hand off his weapon. If she wanted to kill him, he wouldn’t have seen her so blatantly.Rather than exchanging pleasantries, Bucky instead took the opportunity to lunge for Alpine while he was knocked down. Alas, the cat was a little too quick and instead he nose-dived into the snow.

“That kind of day for you too?” Natasha laughed, extending a hand to him to help him up. Up the sleeves of her fluffy sweater he noticed that there were still lock picks and stun darts and he grinned. 

Even a pet emergency could leave you vulnerable and there were few people who could understand that.“The damn cat won’t stop moving.” He replied lightly as they both stalked their respective pets.

Natasha nodded, her red hair failing down past her shoulders as she did so, “Much the same with Liho. She woke up this morning and decided to explore.”

As if signaled by their talks, both cats raced each other to the edge of a hill.

“Great,” grumbled Bucky, “They’re teaming up against us.”

“The monsters. How could they?” dryly replied the Black Widow, watching with bemused eyes as the cats slid gracelessly down a hill in a fur-based snowball.

The sound of metal grinding against metal made them both freeze, smiles stuck halfway on their faces. No one should be out here, even the loggers had shut down for the season. Natasha threw herself to the ground as Bucky hid behind a tree. 

With a well-practiced grace she made her way wordlessly forward.The Winter Soldier quirked an eyebrow to ask if it was okay to move forward and she gave him the most subtle of nods before turning her attention back to the situation over the hill. Taking a similar position on the ground, he lay next to her among the snow and brush. 

Down the hill, there was a factory of some sort. They scanned around. Soldiers, army transport trucks, chainlink fence topped with barbed wire- all things they were intimately familiar with yet were not fully prepared to see out here. 

“Red Skull,” Natasha muttered, pointing her chin towards a sign written in German on the side of the building, “Not sure what it’s for, but that’s his signature.”

“Have I mentioned how much I really hate Nazis?” Bucky replied, feeling a pre-emptive headache begin to form at the thought of how much work this was going to be.

That is if their cats didn’t blow their cover. 

Heedless of their deadly predicament, the two animals had recovered from their tumble and were now dashing towards the fence.

“Gotta stop them. If they are spotted, people will know someone is nearby,” Natasha got to a crouch and began her descent down the hill without another word, dashing like a shadow after the cats.

“I would prefer not shoot my way out of my problems today. That’ll be a lot of wetwork,” Bucky sighed, following suit. Not that he couldn’t, but he was honestly having a relaxing vacation other than this incident. It definitely was not because he didn’t want Natasha or the cats to get hurt because soldiers didn’t care about things like that.

There was a hissed curse in Russian as he reached the bottom of hill and the sound of metal being clipped. “What now?” he asked, knowing the answer even before he said it.

“The cats found the one gap in the fence.” She responded, her metal snips working away quickly to widen the hole big enough for her to fit through

.“Gotta stop teaching them the tools of the trade,” He responded, glad that the fence was not electrified.

“Now you tell me,” she jibed, as she slid her way in. Lacking her grace, Bucky instead used his metal arm to tear the hole a bit wider. He didn’t have any intention of leaving this base untouched so the need for stealth was pretty much moot in his eyes.

Luck, for the first time of the day, was on their side. The cats did not run across any soldiers and no one noticed the gap in the fence, at least for now.

 However the chances of being unnoticed were less and less as the felines padded their way towards the side of the building. Before they could get caught by the cameras, Bucky flung a knife at them, crushing the electronics.

Liho batted at a vent as the animals reached the bricks. Good, at least now they were stopped.“Got you now.” Natasha grinned, only to be further disappointed as the vent opened just enough for both cats to slide into.

“I can’t go in there,” The Winter Soldier gestured to his arm and broad shoulders.

Natasha looked around, craning her head upwards, “Think you can reach up there?”

Following her gaze he saw there was a high window without bars on it, “Yeah, no problem there.”

“I’ll follow the cats. You catch up with us inside.” Shedding her sweater to reveal a black tank top, the Russian assassin-turned-hero shoved herself into the ventilation system. 

He swore she had to have one of those collapsible skeletons like rat from how easy she made it look.Now to deal with his situation. Getting to the window wasn’t a problem, but getting in without shattering the glass might be. Turning his head to either side, he checked for guards but a commotion out front with one of the trucks had them otherwise occupied. With barely an effort, he jumped upwards, digging his metal hand into the stone and using that to fling himself upwards. 

For a moment he froze, listening to see if the sound of crunching stone would alert anyone to his presence, but no one immediately cried out. He dug his boots into the hole made by the metal hand before checking the window. 

Locked, but that was nothing new. Hitting a button on his arm, a small drill came out of one of his fingers –one of Tony’s improvements to the system made during his brief time with the Avengers.The drill made short work of the lock, allowing the glass panel to pop out of the frame and the Winter Solider to make his way into the factory. For a moment he paused, standing in the white light cast by the snow outside amongst all the blackness around him as his eyes adjusted. Dust motes whirled in the air, pushed by the new wind he had brought in. Slowly the room took shape. Walls of computers took form. Large tanks of something that smelled volatile and acrid. Cameras glowing everywhere.With bold steps he walked forward. 

There was no way they didn’t see him on the cameras by now, so he might was well actually learn what Red Skull was doing out in the middle of nowhere. He was sure that any headache that would be caused by his actions would be forgiven if he brought something valuable to S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Bucky, there’s-“ Natasha began, stepping behind him with two cats looking quite sour in her arms. Her tone was all business, but the concern was there.

“Bombs,” he finished as the final piece of data went through, “A lot of bombs.”

“They plan on trying to blow up the UN summit. I was able to grab some documents from their files before they got too close for comfort.”

Despite the circumstances he cast a sideways glance at her, admiration gracing his eyes, “All while making sure the cats stayed safe, I see.”

“I came in here with a mission to get the cats. I wasn’t about to lose sight of the primary objective even with the new threat.” She said, a small grin on her face before it melted away, “We can’t let this stand. Millions will die if we do.”

Bucky nodded. He knew what needed to be done, “Start running, Nat.”

“What are you-“ she began, trying to look over his shoulder at the program he was putting into the system.

“Just run. I’ll catch up.” His hands never stopped working, nor did his gaze look at her but his voice sounded concerned. It wasn’t something everyone would notice, but she had worked with him long enough to hear the subtle way that his voice tensed up when he was actually worried about the person.

She looked like she wanted to argue, but broke off with a sigh, “Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll meet you up the hill at the cabin we liked to visit last time we were in town.”He nodded. She paused, placing a hand on his arm that gently conveyed her worry before she was off, like a shadow racing the sun and time with two cats in her arms. 

The cabin was little more than a one room stopover that Nat used when running from people, but during the two months they had spent there a few years back they had made it feel more like home. It had been years since he had thought about it, but he knew where he would find it once he got his bearings.

She had barely been gone a few seconds when the loud sound of footsteps sounded in the halls. Shit, no time. A loud explosion from the direction Natasha had come from and the sound of angry shouts. Bless that woman, setting a bomb that bought him enough time to finish. He pressed the execution button and began to run as the door was opened and shots began to fire around him.

All of his stamina was spent pushing power to his legs.

 He had no clue what the blast radius for a bomb factory would be realistically, but he sure didn’t want to find out. Loud sirens went off behind him with the harsh crack of guns. Then there was a loud boom and a good deal of heat that he couldn’t look back to see. The force of the blast sent him sprawling, landing on his back in the snow.

Was he dead? He quiet asked himself. No, not yet at least. There was a loud ringing in his ear.Natasha was standing over him, with two cats wrapped in her white sweater. A red halo of slightly singed hair surrounded her head as she looked down at his prone form.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he mumbled, his eyes staring unfocusedly at her face against the white sky. He knew he should move, but everything felt dizzy and heavy now.

“Figured you couldn’t find the cabin without my help,” She said, bending down and picking him up with a strength that would be unexpected by fools. His feet stumble walked alongside of her, not enough wits about him to come up with a witty comeback or struggle against her help. All he could do was take solace in her strength.

The cabin had changed a bit since he had last been there. There were paintings and a few more blankets along with a bookshelf that was halfway filled and even a small bathroom. They were small details, but they made the place feel less like a halfway house and more like a home. 

After they had gotten back, Nat had started a fire in the woodburning stove and slowly the shock had worn off as he sat there.

“Here, take this.” Natasha said, handing him a warm mug that was decorated with cartoon snowmen now wearing her sweater sans cats. 

The two aforementioned mischief makers seemed to be tuckered out by their adventures and had curled up together on the opposite end of the couch.

“Coffee,” he said appreciatively, taking a sip and closing his eyes to appreciate it. His eyes slid open, “Has anyone told you that you are utterly beautiful?”

“All the time, but I never get tired of hearing you say it, James,” She said, sliding next to him close enough to where he could feel her warmth. It was nice, a comforting closeness that neither of them regularly allowed other people to take in.

“You’d think they were the spies with how they found the bomb.” He nodded, taking another sip of coffee and slinging his arm across the back of the couch.

“If they are they’re rookies, got scared the first time that they ran across combat.” Nat said, leaning against him, looking at the two cats, ”Good instincts though.” Scrapes that would heal in an hour stood out on her hands. Cool heroes didn’t look at explosions, but that didn’t mean that explosions didn’t hit them the same way. Blessedly, the technology that had birthed them had gifted them with extraordinary healing. It was one of the few severance packages they had taken away from the experiments.

James Barnes laughed, an unfamiliar gesture to him in recent years but with her it came easily enough when they were in private, “Guess we’ll have to train them more then. Gonna teach Alpine how to fire a rifle next.

”Natasha laughed, a warm rich sound, “I’m sure Fury will love that.” She paused, both of them realizing that they would need to deal with S.H.I.E.L.D. sooner rather than later.

“We gotta tell them, but let’s make sure that we leave the part out about the cats.” Bucky grimaced, “I do not want to deal with Steve telling me cat stories for the next few years til we get another mission.”

“A reasonable secret.” She conceded, “But we won’t get a chance to tell him for a few days. Can’t have us escape that factory only to get shot by Red Skull as they comb the area. Best bet is to hide here and wait for everything to pass.”

“Guess we’ll have to make the most of the time that we are forced to spend together then,” He responded, a glint in his eye that made Natasha excited for the idea that was behind it.

That night, the cabin felt a lot warmer and this time it was most assuredly not a place Bucky Barnes or Natasha Romanov would ever forget about.

[hereticalheraldry]

Disney Princesses’ trauma types

IE, definitely the darkest take on Disney I have ever done!

(see this post on trauma types)

Lots of Disney characters have had Adverse Childhood Experiences (death of mothers, to start with!) and exhibit signs of traumatic stress. Below are my guesses as to their chosen coping mechanism.

What 4F trauma type is each Disney character below (Fight, Flight, Freeze, Fawn)

Snow White (dead mother, dead father, abusive and neglectful stepmother, stepmother literally tried to have her killed): It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this, but I’d say it’s Fawn-Flight. She is unerringly sweet. Her immediate reaction when in any form of danger (with a strange man, the huntsman, or the dwarves) is to try to appease, appeal, and make friends. She also has a ton of energy (flight), which she channels into obsessive cleaning, though she doesn’t seem to edge far enough into that to call it OCD. She also literally ran away in a segment that makes obvious how her fear drives her to flight.

Cinderella (dead father, abusive and neglectful stepfamily treats her as a slave): another Fawn-Flight. Unfailingly kind and sweet. So desperate for friends that she befriends the MICE. Also an incredibly hard worker (though tbf, her stepfamily forces that on her). When traumatized by stepsisters yanking to pieces her clothing (both a destruction of her hard work and a physical assault) she literally runs away into the garden to cry. She also runs away from the ball at midnight rather than turning back right there and explaining to the prince that she only got to go to the ball through magic because her family is abusive and probably stole her inheritance. Cinderella gets the wish that many with CPTSD have: that somebody would swoop in and rescue them! She gets rescued twice: by her fairy godmother AND by the prince.

Peter Pan (abandoned in Kensington Gardens and brought up by fairies, who are not the most emotionally stable beings out there): Flight. Classic ADHD: response: runs all over the island fighting, flying, and crowing. (Also literally flies.)

Ariel (dead mother, controlling and abusive father): Freeze-Flight. Instead of trying to please her excessively harsh father, like her hard-working singing sisters, Ariel ditches not only practices but CONCERTS in order to get away from her father and lose herself in her collecting hobby. She has a secret place where she hides in order to fantasize about having a different life in an entirely different place, away from her family. Her friends attempt to persuade her that life on land is impracticable for her. But when her father destroys her hidey-hole, she is retraumatized and resorts to flight to someone she thinks can fix her problems for her by making her human and sending her to the surface: she therefore literally runs away, and tries to get both Ursula and Eric to save her and get her away from her father.

Prince Eric: Surprisingly non-traumatized! I mean, as far as I remember.

Belle: non-traumatized? (at least to start with. I mean, we can always suggest Stockholm Syndrome later...) DOES seem to think she’s entirely different from everyone else around her (a common CPTSD symptom). Maybe traumatized by mother’s death? Bullying from the neighbors? Becoming a parentified child to take care of her absent-minded (though affectionate) father? Unaccustomed poverty? In any case, except for the trauma of her father’s near death and her own imprisonment, she is unusually competent and calm. If she edges toward anything, it’s probably Freeze-Flight: she has a pronounced capacity to become absorbed in fiction and ignore everything around her. When irritated by Gaston’s insulting and bullying proposal, she physically retreats entirely from the village in order to sing about how she wants to leave her poor provincial town for the great wide somewhere. She is fixated on escape, either mentally or physically.

Beast (dead parents, raised by servants who deferred to him rather than parenting him): Fight-Freeze. Hides in his castle; when encounters people is an ASSHOLE. Interestingly, Fight-Freeze types are notoriously hard to treat. Belle might have a future in psychotherapy if she can build better boundaries.

Aladdin (dead parents, has to eat to live, has to steal to eat, ostracized by his community, frequently threatened with death or maiming for theft): feels entirely different from the rest of the world. Flight. frequently in a state of frenetic energy, though a lot of that is because he’s stealing food and escaping the cops. His idea of a great date is to get Jasmine away from the palace: to escape and help her to do the same. intense feelings of shame and inferiority (despite his insistence that there’s so much more to him). He tries to hide from Jasmine the truth of his low-rank identity, though he does eventually recognize the need to tell her the truth.

Jasmine: surprisingly untraumatized (mostly just a healthy assertive), considering what she’s been through (dead mother, parentified child of a nice but absent-minded father who, judging from his looks, is closely related to Maurice; isolated from peers and almost everyone but her pet. I mean, there MUST be servants in the palace, but all you ever see are the guards...) She recognizes when people are treating her unfairly and says so, which makes her unusual among Disney heroes and heroines!

Simba (father died, was told it was his fault, was forced to leave home, almost died in the wilderness, subsequently raised by a couple of irresponsible weirdos): Flight. Literally runs away from his problems instead of facing them. Keeps himself busy with Timon and Pumbaa in order to occupy his mind.

Pocahontas: Non-traumatized! (Dead mother, but strong emotional connection with father and strong emotional support system in her community. Not to mention a maternal figure in the shape of a talking tree in whom she can confide.) DOES feel different from everyone else in her community, though. (Are you sensing a theme?)

John Smith (father died when Smith was 16, he left home, went to sea, served as a mercenary, engaged in piracy, fought the Ottomans): Flight. Constantly on the move: seeing new places, meeting new people, and killing them. Overachiever. Can’t sit still in England. However, he does have some healthy assertive skills and is able to stand up to people in power.

Quasimodo (holy emotional abuse, Batman!): Freeze. Taught that the outside world is cruel and wicked and that he can only be safe inside the cathedral. Daydreams to the point where he almost believes the gargoyles come alive and talk to him. Manages to overcome his Freeze instincts to save Esmerelda.

Esmerelda: Not traumatized, despite apparent lack of living parents and her position as an oppressed social minority. Probably the result of loving parenting while they were alive and strong community support from the rest of the Roma of Paris. Another heroine with healthy assertive traits!

Phoebus: Not apparently currently suffering from traumatic stress (though may have had periods of it in the past: he’s a crusader, after all). Surprisingly well-adjusted.

Hercules (kidnapped at a very young age and taken away from a one life to be placed in another, ENTIRELY different life. Despite strong emotional support from adoptive parents, has been rejected and bullied by his community. Feels he is entirely different from everybody else [I mean, he kind of is]): Flight. Yes, that’s right, flight, not fight. Hercules may be a “fighter” but he is a SUPER non-aggressive guy. Gentleness embodied. Feels he has to achieve something huge in order to be worthy of love and affection from the world (and especially from his divine father, who has literally told him that he has to earn his way back to Olypus by becoming a True Hero). Tendency toward despair when the people whose love and affection he thought he had (Phil and Megara) abandon and betray him. Eventually earns everybody’s love and affection--which is not the greatest lesson ever. Shouldn’t Disney be teaching us that we deserve love even if we never become heroes?

Megara (super traumatic history): Fawn-Fight. Puts the good of the people she loves WAY before her own, to an unhealthy level (sacrifices her own soul in order to save a man, who then abandons her). Seems sarcastic and rough, but heart of gold underneath. Acts like she’s superior, but actually feels enormous guilt and shame, with low self-esteem. Won’t say she’s in love.

Mulan (inconsistent expectations from her family and community. Sometimes her family supports who she is, defends her, and puts up with her unusual behavior; at other times they join with her community in criticizing her [lightly if frequently]. They apparently did not teach her society’s gender roles but then expects her to abide by them in public): she feels entirely different from everybody else and that she has to prove herself. Doesn’t know who she is inside. CANNOT behave the way she has been taught she should; is clearly triggered by a criticism from her father. Flight. Seems almost hyperactive, can’t keep silent when her society tells her she should. Driven to act and to succeed in order to prove her worth and bring honor to her family. Again, EARNS everybody’s love and respect in the end.

Shang: Possible inferiority issues from his relationship with her father. Not enough data.

Mushu (constant criticism; scapegoated by the ancestors): Flight. Has channeled this coping mechanism into ADHD (and humor). Feels the need to prove he is worthy of his spot (I mean, the ancestors TOLD him he did...)

Tarzan (storm and fire killed everyone around him in his infancy; parents had to resettle entirely alone in an alien land; parents were brutally killed right in front of him; he was nearly killed and eaten twice by a leopard; adopted by nonhuman animals; rejected by father figure and much of his nonhuman community): Realistically, I WOULD say that Tarzan should not be able to learn to SPEAK, since he doesn’t appear to have acquired language until his mid to late twenties. However, the film makes clear that the gorillas have a complex spoken language that can convey complicated thoughts like, “Jane will stay with Tarzan”. Feels entirely different from the rest of his community (he is). Scapegoated and constantly criticized for being different. I genuinely don’t know what his style is. lol

The elephant in tarzan: It’s been too long since I’ve seen this film, somebody do this one lol

Cuzco (dead parents, running an empire in his early twenties, nobody has apparently ever taught him limits, appears to have a very emotionally isolated life): Fawn-Fight. Extremely narcissistic, though his character development reveals that he does have a conscience underneath there somewhere. Charming but highly self-centered. Good with words and fast-talking, so may be Flight or gifted. Behavior improves quickly and immensely when provided with the emotional support (and healthy boundaries) of an ersatz family.

Lilo (loss of both parents; being parented by a highly stressed and very young adult who is struggling with poverty and her own trauma): Flight. Gifted, imaginative, ADHD, constantly into everything, constantly in trouble. Sometimes slides into Fight with defiant behavior.

Nani (loss of parents, pressure of having to parent her little sister and provide income for both of them at a very young age): Fight. Her temper gets the better of her when she’s upset, but she’s really trying.

Marlin (loss of his wife and all his children but one): Freeze. Constantly hiding from the perceived dangers of the world and trying to teach his son to do the same. Very nurturing of his child, despite his difficulty overcoming his own trauma. Considering he is a Freeze type, going on a big journey to save his son demonstrates ENORMOUS bravery.

Dori (???): Flight-Freeze. ADHD, constantly on the move, can’t sit still, just keeps swimming, just keeps swimming, swimming, swimming. I include Freeze because her difficulties with her memories may be a dissociative effect of trauma, and dissociation falls under Freeze.

Tiana (loss of beloved father, poverty, traumatizing lifelong experience of systemic racism, somewhat ameliorated by loving and supportive mother): Flight. The classic driven, achievement-obsessed workaholic. Always seems to only be halfway there. Fate helps her overcome these tendencies by forcing her to fail in her quest to become human again (and therefore to open her restaurant), though she actually does succeed soon after anyway. Actually, DID she overcome these tendencies? Like, she toned it down enough to maintain an apparently lasting romantic relationship, but she might still be a workaholic...

Naveen (highly critical parents): Flight. Constantly traveling care-for-nothing that can’t seem to stick to anything. Deep down has low self-esteem about his lack of achievement and how he can’t seem to please his parents. Demonstrates some symptoms of ADD or ADHD. Tiana and Naveen demonstrate how “Flight” behaviors can results in two very different character types!

Rapunzel (holy shit: kidnapped in infancy and raised by a woman who is demonstrably emotionally abusive and negligent and literally is only keeping her alive for her hair. Imprisoned in a tower almost entirely without company her ENTIRE LIFE. Demonstrates painful mood swings between delight and horrific guilt when she finally escapes for the first time. I seriously wonder how long her mental recovery took after Mother Gothel’s death...): Flight-Fawn. Overachiever, constantly doing EVERYTHING, EXTREMELY QUICKLY (cleans the entire place top-to-bottom between 7:00 and 7:15 AM). Literally runs away. Makes friends immediately with almost everybody she meets, including a gang of hardened, violent criminals. Wants desperately to be loved, but believes very quickly that Eugene doesn’t like her after all and has abandoned her. Note that it is not Rapunzel that kills Mother Gothel but Pascal. Rapunzel is so emotionally traumatized that she probably could never bring herself to “betray” Gothel in any real way.

Eugene Fitzherbert (orphaned; raised in an institutional setting, which is notoriously traumatizing. Poverty, social rejection): Flight. Channels his immense energy into complicated and daring heists. Adrenaline junkie. He thinks he wants to rest on a deserted island with an enormous pile of money, but I can guarantee that he would get antsy after a week (at most) and go back to his life of crime in order to distract himself from his pain.

Merida (was in a life-endangering encounter with a bear as a young child; her father was maimed. Has emotional support from her father, but her mother--primary caregiver, especially of a daughter--is highly critical): Flight. Tons of energy, adrenaline junkie, climbs a frickin WATERFALL, overachiever in her chosen hobbies. Greatly dislikes quiet pursuits like embroidery, possibly because they leave too much time for contemplation, and she needs more distraction.

Elsa (almost killed her beloved younger sister by accident, treated by her parents as dangerous and frightening, almost entirely isolated for most of her life): Freeze (HAHA) and Flight. Has been taught to retreat alone from a world that will reject her. Experiences enormous shame and guilt for herself, her gifts, and how dangerous she can be. Classic perfectionist. Attempts to protect herself and others by shutting down all emotions. When she fails, she literally runs away to live entirely alone forever to escape the storm of the rest of the world, because the cold of isolation “never bothered her anyway” (an obvious lie she has taught herself). “Let It Go” sounds like an anthem of freedom, but Elsa is actually literally running from her problems and from any human connection.

Anna (almost died as a small child, which she doesn’t directly remember, but may still cause her traumatic reactions. her beloved older sister SUDDENLY refused even to SEE her, and her parents wouldn’t talk about it, so she probably felt in some obscure way that there was something wrong with HER,  that it was all her fault. Then isolated almost entirely in the palace, and certainly isolated from other children, followed by the death of her parents and the CONTINUED isolation from her sister and anybody other than servants): flight-fawn. she seems possibly a little ADD, a little hyperactive (rides her bike around the halls), impulsive. VERY friendly and sweet to almost everybody she meets, desperate to make friends. Dreams of being rescued through marriage to a prince that she loves at first sight. Desperate to be loved.

Moana: probably NOT traumatized, for the most part. She DOES feel entirely different from everybody else (”what is wrong with me?”) because her instinctive love of the ocean has been criticized and squelched by her father and her society. However, despite her father’s clear struggle with his own trauma from the survivor’s guilt of his best friend’s drowning, this is one of the healthier families/societies we see in Disney! The silence around the death of Chief Tui’s best friend is meant to be kind, but I think Tui probably needs to talk it out more, and while I understand why they didn’t tell Moana about it as a young child, I feel like she SHOULD have been told before her father’s reactions to her hurt her own self-image: he’s actually just projecting his own guilt onto the daughter who is so much like him. She is less traumatized than she might otherwise be because she has both her mother, and especially her grandmother, to confide in. If Moana has a trauma style, I would say it’s Flight: she’s an overachiever who is constantly rushing from one task, one way to help, to another. In a deleted song, she also talks about walking around the island so much that she knows exactly how many steps it is to the ocean. She always wants to get away. All of this is classic Flight. Chief Tui is Fight. he’s not aggressive, but he IS controlling.

Maui (Most of the trauma in this film comes from Maui. he was abandoned as a baby, and probably almost died. grew up with the knowledge that he was not wanted by his parents. grew up away from human society): Flight-Fawn. Has spent the rest of his life trying to earn acceptance, love, and gratitude from humans. Constantly does crazy and death-defying tasks to try to win them over., but It never brings him true fulfillment. He clearly DESPERATELY wants to be recognized, celebrated, and loved for his achievements and his gifts, which makes him into a brash show-off.

[imaginedanganronpa]

Also some headcanons on Park Ranger Aoi, Kite maker Yasuhiro, Ballerina Sayaka and Indie Filmmaker Kiyotaka?

Part 1 of this is HERE!

Talent-Swap AU: Ultimate Park Ranger Aoi Asahina, Ultimate Kite-Maker Yasuhiro Hagakure, Ultimate Ballerina Sayaka Maizono & Ultimate Indie Filmmaker Kiyotaka Ishimaru!

Ultimate Park Ranger Aoi Asahina

Aoi’s personality made her aperfect candidate for becoming a Park Ranger. She was friendly and upbeat whichnaturally drew others to her and she had a very sensitive, caring aura.

From a young age, she has always shown great respect and adoration for natureand animals. Aoi never had a broken family, and instead her relatives were allquite close; they would go camping almost every summer and Aoi would break away from the campsite to explore the trail, spending hours just roaming about and being part of the environment.

Once, she got lost and found her way back on her own - no one had even realized that she was missing, and the Park Rangers were shocked that a little girl that young was able to navigate the woods by herself.

She would also take her younger brother, Yuta, hiking to spend simple, qualitytime with him. She learned all about different types of trees, plants, andenvironments on her own through personal experience, interest, and research. Aoi seemed to have vast knowledge about them and would teach her youngerbrother, who ended up suggesting that she apply to become a Ranger.

She became the youngest Park Ranger in Japan, but was also, ironically, the mostqualified; hence her placement at Hope’s Peak.

Aoi is amazing with kids, telling them inspiring stories to get them involved in preserving the Earth, quickly becoming the face of Park Rangers everywhere. She loved everything about her talent. Plus, she thought she looked super cute in the uniform.

Animals also seemed to have a special connection with Aoi, following her and walking right up to her with no fear, feeding out of her hands.

Overall, she had a very optimistic personality and a positive outlook on nature, but that positive personality was shattered after she was trapped in the Killing Game.

At first, Aoi was pretty skeptical and thought this could be some kind of new training that Rangers had to undergo. She did her best to keep the other participants preppy and happy, but all of that changed after the first murder occurred.

Everything was far too real and Aoi ended up locking herself in her room, becoming an emotional wreck. She developed a strong attachment to Sayaka Maizono, who was the only person who could talk to her.

During Trials, Aoi tries to benefit the group, but her emotions often get the best of her. She’s a little bit too optimistic and hopeful in their bleak situation, but she truly did want to keep the others safe.

She tries her best to be helpful but comes across as a bit ditsy at times.

Ultimate Kite-Maker Yasuhiro Hagakure

Yasuhiro didn’t have the smoothestchildhood; his father was never really in his life and showed little interestin his son, so his mother often took up both parenting roles. 

Hiroko did herbest to spark his interest in many things but he couldn’t find anything he was passionate about.

Nothing seemed to bring Yasuhiro out of the depression that soon surrounded him.

But his mother often did things to get him out of the house and keep him busy so that he wouldn’t sit around and feel sorry for himself all day. They went to a park one afternoon, which is where he saw other kids flying kites for the very first time.

Yasuhiro’s eyes lit up and he wanted to try it out for himself, so Hiroko bought him a small kite-kit, which ended up crashing to the ground. Although he wanted to keep trying, he also didn’t want his mom to spend any more money on him and promised he’d make his own kite instead.

Yasuhiro’s kite out-shined all of the others - it stayed up in the air for the longest and also flew the farthest, and that was the first time in awhile that he’s felt alive again.

Ever since that day, he’s been making kites and trying to improve upon his previous inventions. Yasuhiro also tries making them into creative shapes or images, and also takes commissions from others to make custom kites.

Pretty soon, he created a booming business that helped support his small family and provide for his mother.

Ultimate Kite-Maker Yasuhiro would wear his hair back in a long ponytail, especially when it was windy. 

It was the thing that brought him the most happiness, although he often didn’t think he was deserving of a spot in Hope’s Peak, as did the other students in his class.

He was the same cheery and laid-back student which would carry over into Killing Game. He was convinced that it was all a clever prank since he was used to being the butt of everyone’s jokes since his talent was hardly taken seriously by the other students in Hope’s Peak. He was still certain that this was somehow a joke, even after the first execution.

Yasuhiro was still an emotional man who wanted to be of assistance during the Trials, but instead came across as a bit unintelligent and misinformed. He was a true comic-relief character who feared dying in this Killing Game, going so far as to beg the Blackened to not target him.

Ultimate Ballerina Sayaka Maizono

Sayaka was your typical ‘girl next-door’ type that could win over just about anyone’s heart.

Her family signed her up for dance lessons when she was younger so that she could, hopefully, find something that brought joy to her life, and she successfully found that in ballet.

Even from a young age, Sayaka felt a need to perform and be the center of attention. She was always dancing in her parent’s Living Room and putting on a show for her family when she was a toddler, and her parents have countless home-movies of her ‘recitals.’

She was cheerful, sweet, and beautiful, as well as quite popular.

Sayaka seemed perfect which is why a lot of the girl’s in her school resented her. After finding out that she was taking dance classes, they told her that she would never amount to anything and that the lessons would never help her improve.

But Sayaka is a fiery, determined young girl. She landed her first major role in a dance when she was in middle-school, except… she played the Ugly Duckling.

This broke her spirit and she started to believe what the other girls were saying. With the help of her family and through her own desire to prove them wrong, Sayaka strives for more fulfilling roles.

She felt a great pressure when performing, always wanting to out-shine the others. She had a very serious personality that was clear when she danced. 

Eventually, she became the lead role in several big ballets - one of which was performed in front of a giant audience. Scouts from Hope’s Peak Academy happened to be in that crowd and spotted Sayaka on stage, almost immediately offering her a place in their upcoming class.

She felt a sense of pride - she had finally proved everyone wrong and been given the title as Ultimate Ballerina, which almost felt like a dream.

That dream was interrupted when Sayaka was thrown into the Killing Game, though. She was frightened on the inside but maintained her outwardly calm and relaxed composure. 

Just when she started to build a fan-base and make a name for herself, Sayaka was put into a life-or-death situation. She started to worry about her supporters and only Aoi knew how much the Killing Game was really tormenting her.

Sayaka was determined to get out of here so that her career could flourish just like she wanted it to. She became the second-in-command to the protagonist, working closely alongside them in Investigations and helping solve each Case at the Trials.

Ultimate Indie Filmmaker Kiyotaka Ishimaru

Kiyotaka’s family always had high expectationsfor him – he needed to make good grades, maintain perfect behavior, and so on so that hecould live up to his fullest potential, just like his grandfather had. His parentsnever got to accomplish this goal so they were even harder on their son tosucceed.

He had little interest in school or practical careers like they wanted him to achieve, causing him to feel detached from his responsibilities.

When he was growing up, his grandfather introduced him to film and photographyafter giving him his first camera, which he still owns to this day and considers to be his prized-possession.

Kiyotaka’s grandfather was much more understanding of his grandson’s dreams andaspirations which is what eventually lead him to film-making. He never had thefunds for a studio or team so he often worked independently, which is what hegot used to.

However, Kiyotaka has developed a strict work complex since he wants to get thingsdone and do them correctly, so he has high expectations for himself and getscrushed when they don’t go as smoothly as planned. He’s also gotten in troubleat school for filming in the hallways or while class was underway, which is howhis parents found out about his hobby.

Kiyotaka tried keeping it a secret for so long and they weren’t happy when they originally found out. However, they were a bit more lenient when he received aletter from Hope’s Peak Academy, scouting him for his talent.

He received the title as Ultimate Indie Filmmaker after becoming the youngestperson to ever win an award for one of his films.

Kiyotaka’s films often revolve around issues with family and other familialstories, often mirroring his own life. However, he also likes making more simpleand aesthetically pleasing visuals and bringing in his close friends to playcharacters in his films.

His biggest dream is to make films that bring happiness to his family, which iswhy the Killing Game freaks him out so much. He’ll never be able to accomplish this goal if he gets killed in here!

Kiyotaka can be a bit bossy and command the other students around, especially during the Investigations, but that’s only due to his own work ethic; he doesn’t intend to be so strict. It’s also a little bit disturbing since he has admired the crime-scenes and talked about how the body looked so ‘artistically appealing.’

He’s determined to survive this Killing Game and uncover the Mastermind, though, so that he can make a film about this situation, someday! It would certainly do well since people love mystery and horror…

- Mod Rantaro

[beckytailweaver]

Werewolf and Xolo puppy...part 1..?

It is a huge plot bunny. And I apologize for this.

Due to WerewolfAU Miguel & Héctor.  I really couldn't help it. I hope no one minds! It’s not even really fic...

So, were-xolo Miguel and werewolf Héctor.  Héctor could be awesome as a trickster were-coyote indeed, but there is an excellent subspecies if he is to remain in Canis lupus with the Xolo: a Mexican wolf.  (Mexican Wolf and Coyote: Know the Difference!) Thoughts?

Starting at the beginning, let's take it up to eleven: Some urban fantasy, some magical realism, and a little buffet of all kinds of different legends and canons.  The Rivera family were shoemakers. With a musician or two thrown in for charm. These days, though, they're werewolf hunters.

A long time ago, Mamá Imelda made shoes while her husband played music and her daughter danced. They were comfortable and happy. But one night, during the full moon, her husband was killed by a werewolf while coming home from a short musical tour with his friend Ernesto de la Cruz.

Ernesto barely escaped with his life, to bring Imelda the news. When she heard, Imelda set aside her shoes to learn how to kill werewolves, to avenge her husband and to eliminate any monsters who might be a threat to her daughter and her village. She taught this knowledge to all in her family after her, and while Riveras still make excellent shoes as their day job, by night they hunt their sworn enemy. (Cue origin story dramatic soundtrack crescendo.)

Music isn't as explicitly banned as it is in canon, but it's still actively discouraged. Riveras don't have time for this frivolous noise that’ll just attract monsters, and wandering around for music is what got Imelda's husband killed! None of her children will be lost to something so stupid.

(The irony here is that this time, Héctor is on the ofrenda, even if it’s grudgingly. But it would be much easier for him to come home if he was dead.)

Tio Ernesto is known and respected as a friend of the family, but he’s a famous musician and he doesn't visit very often at all (once a decade or so, very perfunctory). He was too busy traveling all over Mexico playing songs (in his best friend's memory, he claimed, but somehow that never came up in albums or interviews), and Riveras don't do music.  He's retired now but, privately afraid of being forgotten by the younger generations of music fans, he never misses a chance to promote his old albums or do an interview for a big show. He's in remarkably good shape for an octogenarian.

Basics. In this universe, monsters aren't complete fantasy, but by the time the modern era rolls around they've been controlled enough by military, police, and hunters that few civilians see them. Most people see them kind of like human criminals, or nuisance animals.  They're "out there," and if you wander around dark alleys and forests at night you might disappear, but it's not a zombie apocalypse of constant horror. Once in a while there's a news story, or a species of monster is on display at a zoo briefly, or you hear of a friend's wife's cousin who got eaten one night.

(Many monsters are actually just people minding their own business who happen to look a little different or have specific dietary requirements, but they keep to themselves so all most people ever hear is the bad tales and the news reports of another death.)

This Rivera family tree is arranged a little differently and the ages might be a little more compressed. Coco and Elena are Imelda's daughters; Elena was born after Imelda's husband was killed so she never met him. She is the fiercest in her dislike for werewolves (and lazy, careless musicians).

Coco and Julio are parents to Victoria and Enrique (I don't know how they got all the tall kids okay); Elena and Franco are parents to Berto and Gloria. Enrique and Berto have all their kids as in canon.

Oscar and Felipe are still Imelda's younger twin brothers, and though they're slowing down in their old age they're generally in charge of inventing and improving nifty new gadgets like repeater crossbows and silver grenades; they are teaching this craft to Abel.

Victoria and Gloria are both the single aunts, best friends growing up, and really like to collaborate on ammo projects that make monsters go boom; Rosa is learning from them.

Tia Rosita, Julio's sister, is very good at crafting light armor; Julio is best with heavy.  Berto works with specialty shotguns and Enrique is an expert rifle marksman. (Or, you know, skills can vary as needs might. Suggestions?)

Mamá Imelda has been sidelined by old age so she can no longer participate in active hunts, but nothing stops her from picking up a weapon if she feels her home is threatened. She is still the head of the family when it comes to command decisions.

Benny and Manny are just plain too little for hunting, and are kept safely under close watch in the Rivera family home. The grandmothers who don't hunt are usually caring for them, which often means it's Imelda. (She cannot be fooled by twin shenanigans; she had to look after her brothers once too.)

Elena is leading the charge any chance she gets, despite her age, which worries her husband and family (but she loves her family as fiercely as she fights, which is why she refuses to fail). Coco is more than happy to step down once she's "retired," and spends a lot of time making shoes rather than weapons, and looking after the little ones. She remembers her Papá fondly.

Miguel...precious little musical dreamer Miguel...he spends a lot of time with his Abuelita Coco, and she adores him. With his sweet grin and heart for music, it's almost like her Papá has come back to her. She hums to him in secret, and encourages him to explore interests other than shoes and werewolf hunting. Miguel loves music even if it's their little secret, and there's something in his eyes just like she remembers, something that wants to chase the wind and sing out to the world, and Coco knows Miguel is special. Just like Papá.

Werewolves. This variety is a little more magical than is found in a lot of modern fiction. They're not gigantic and terrifying; the body doesn't actually change size that much, just some shape and locomotion. They age much more slowly than humans and are pretty much immortal, barring silver weapons, decapitation, or rather thorough dismemberment. They can still get sick or injured, but are very unlikely to die from average things (injuries and discomforts still hurt though; they feel cold, they get bruises, they bleed, they can have allergies or need glasses). It might take one of them a long time to die of old age, but that's the only other thing that can kill them. (It's like the curse was made to turn humans into something almost fey but not quite, but no one knows for sure how it originated.)

And they're not all wolves. It's more the were than the wolf! And not everyone gets turned by a bite. Some of the weres are "venomous" and can pass on the "disease/curse," most of these are ones that were turned by a bite themselves and so the "curse” is thicker in them. Many of these are pretty insane or can't remember what they do during the full moon; they're the ones who attack indiscriminately and give the rest a bad name. The human mind breaks because of the fear and stress and venom, and aggressive self-defense instinct takes over; these are the easiest to find and hunt because they just rampage against any "threat" that moves, like a rabid animal.

There are others, sometimes known as latent werewolves (again, not all are wolves). If a bitten were manages to keep it together long enough to bear or sire a child, that offspring has a strong chance of being a werewolf themselves. But because they're born to it, they don't go insane (or not as insane, especially if they have a supportive family or other experienced weres to learn from). Some of these will turn out okay, and can go on to have children of their own; further generations have much less chance of turning out actual werewolves, which is where the latent part comes in.

Enough generations down, and the were-genes aren't activated. They're just kind of sitting there, disconnected, with no inputs. Some people may never even realize they have these genes, and dormant vs latent will also skip some generations, to the point where some family members are "susceptible" and others aren't.

"Susceptible" means they have to be exposed to a compatible animal in a few certain ways during a full moon, which means it doesn't happen terribly often but still does now and then. At this point the latent disconnected were genes go aha! a template! and boom, brand new werewolf. (Or whatever it is. Most are canines and felines, going by likelihood of exposure. Almost all are mammals, because blending with non-mammals can be...troublesome, and may not work at all.) On the upside, most latents (especially those whose ancestry is distant) tend not to be able to pass on the "curse" through bites, so they're not contagious.

Full moons.  While an actual, really true full moon lasts only a moment or two, the moon is round enough to be perceived as full for more than just one night! It may also be in the sky during the day. So the classic old "sun goes down, moon comes up, werewolf howls!" trope isn't...actually all that accurate. A fully round moon can actually last around four days.

That's right.  Day and night, light and dark.  Four days of running around with claws, teeth, and fur, during which a werewolf might be causing havoc, chased by hunters, or killed.  Four days of carnage if they're insane and running on terror and adrenaline.  Four days to hide, shivering and hungry, if they're sane and unprepared just trying to stay out of trouble.  Four days to huddle in a basement with bottled water and cans of Spam if they've been doing this alone a long time.  Four days to run in the wilderness with pack and family and have a fun camp out, if they're the luckiest of all.

Neither Miguel nor his family know that he's carrying latent were genes. Not a clue. He's just an ordinary little boy who fidgets through shoemaking lessons and looks squeamish when being taught about monster hunting, who runs off to go hang out with Abuelita Coco whenever he can, who sneaks into the attic to play his guitar and watch old De la Cruz videos, who skips and sings his way around their quiet little hometown playing with Dante the stray Xolo—as long as he's always back before dark.

(Miguel adores Tio Ernesto and asks his family every Christmas if there's a card, even if he's only met him in person once when he was so small he almost doesn't remember it.)

Then came a day when Miguel discovered that Mamá Imelda's portrait with Abuelita Coco contained a man with a white guitar—Tio Ernesto's guitar—and he wanted to know if Tio Ernesto was actually his great-grandfather because then he has a real legacy of music that could actually lead to success and not death.  Mamá Imelda squashed that dream; no matter who his great-grandpa is, Riveras have a higher calling, and she will never allow one of her children to be led away from home and into distractions and disaster by music.

Miguel runs. Dante follows. It's still daylight, but there's a full moon just chilling, lazy and faded, in the blue sky above.  Somewhere near the cemetery, Miguel's tears make him stumble. He bruises his knees and scrapes his hands, and ever faithful Dante tries to lick the wounds clean.

A few feverishly dizzy minutes later, Miguel is an oddly-shaped, oversized Xolo puppy wearing a red hoodie.

tbc...?

Hopefully this is interesting? Thoughts and suggestions welcome! Miguel’s journey in the wilderness is still taking shape...

Opinions on the wolf/coyote thing?

[tipsycad147]

Path of the Green Witch

By Suzan Stone Sierralupe

Traditionally, many paths of Witchcraft are named by their color; red, white, grey, and so forth.

Many of these disciplines have changed their names as Witchcraft has gained global unity, but it is Green Witchcraft which has kept its color name from country to country.

To be a Witch means that you worship the Earth as a mother, and to be a Green Witch means that you heal the children of the Earth by bringing them back in communication Her.

The disciplines of the Green Witch are many; she listens, watches, learns, heals and, most of all, she teaches.

The Green Witch listens

An old story tells, Raven created the world and it was he who created the gods.

He scooped them from the earth,filled their veins with ocean blood and their lungs with mountain winds.

Raven gave them the spirits of the stars, so that, like him, they would never die.

Then Raven went on creating.

He made our world as the gods whispered their counsel to him.

Raven made rivers, mountains, trees, and all manner of beings.

As Raven created, his brother the Destroyer, mangled his creations.

"Create speed," counseled the gods.

Raven made a perfect animal with long running legs, keen vision, and absolute agility and named it Deer. Destroyer could not bear the thought of perfection and so gave Deer the quality of Fear.

Raven cursed as his perfect animal bolted into the woods at the sound of leaves rustling.

So, he tried again.

"Create strength," counseled the gods

and Raven created an animal with burly shoulders, strong jaws and claws that push aside the earth, and he named it Badger.

But Destroyer gave Badger the quality of Anger. Raven cursed as his creation swung around to bite him."Vision," counseled the gods.

Raven again created the perfect animal with wide knowing eyes, night vision, and the ability to see in all directions and named it Owl.

Destroyer gave the creation Day Blindness.

Raven cursed as the animal flew into a tree to sleep until sundown.

Finally, Raven was ready to create humans.

"Imagination," counseled the gods.

"These animals," spoke Raven,

"are special to me because of their ability to create in a way that can be both beautiful and dangerous.

You must be willing to help me if Destroyer interferes."The gods nodded in understanding. So Raven created the humans with long, flexible fingers, quick minds, and a need to communicate. Destroyer gave the creation Weakness.

Raven called upon the gods.

"My creature will sicken and go mad destroying everything in their path.

We must help them or all creatures will be in danger."The gods conferred and did a very wise thing.

They broke off pieces of their wise star spirits and scattered these pieces across the earth.

From these pieces rose plants of every variety.

Trees, shrubs, flowers, mosses grew in profusion.

"All that will challenge Raven's children, the humans, whether disease, madness, or wounds can be healed by these plants," said the gods.

"How will they know which plants will heal which sickness?" asked Raven.

"When they call upon us, we shall teach them the language of their plant cousins," they replied.

The Green Witch watches

Healers throughout the world have been seeking the language of their plant cousins for centuries.Sometimes our animal brothers and sisters teach us their secrets, as in the case of the herb Eyebright.

The story goes that an herbalist had a young bird family nesting in her tree.

The spring was a difficult one with excessive rain for the season, and sickness took its toll on the young birds.

The herbalist noticed that the fledglings had crusted eyes.

She shook her head; the birds' singing had given her such joy every morning,

"what a shame," she thought "that they won't survive."

But the next morning, the herbalist noticed that the mother bird had brought a plant back to her nest instead of the normal grub.

"Was she rebuilding her nest?" wondered the woman.

She observed the mother bird holding the plant sprig in her beak and wiping the eyes of her fledglings every day until the chicks eyes had cleared.

After some investigation, the herbalist discovered the herb in use was Euphrasia rostkoviana, Eyebright. Eyebright produces tiny white flowers with yellow spots and red veins that reminds me of nothing so much as a blood shot eye.

This plant is still used as an eye tonic for strains and infections.

People suffering from allergies use it to relieve irritated eyes due to hay fever and sinus infections.

The Green Witch learns

Many healers study the physical nature of plants for clues to their properties.

The spotted lung pattern on plants like Lugwort (Pulmonaria officinalis) led ancient herbalists to try treating bronchitis and other lung and throat ailments with this plant with good success.

The stomach-shaped pods of Senna (Senna alexandrina) lead herbalists to discover the shrub's usefulness for treating the digestive tract.

Even colors speak to those prepared to listen.

For years, Coptis species was used as a detoxifier to cleanse the body system.

The inner bark of Coptis is yellow, the color normally associated with the liver and with bile.

The liver holds and attempts to filter the body's toxins. When the liver is asked to filter more toxins than its capacity, it ends up as a great storage tank for the unfiltered poison.

In the 1930's, overharvesting of Coptis species made it endangered and a new detoxifier had to found. Attention was turned to another plant with a yellow inner root bark, Goldenseal, (Hydrastis canadensis.) This plant became the second most popular herb in American apothecaries for the following 50 years.

Now goldenseal has become overharvested like Coptis before it, and the new substitute for Goldenseal is another yellow inner barked herb, Oregon Grape (Berberis vulgaris).

The need for flushing the toxins from our systems has brought the toxin "scarcity" into our mother's body to be healed as well.

Oregon Grape is being monitored by environmentalists, and organic farmers are planting Coptis and Goldenseal to reduce the need for wild harvesting of these plants.

The Green Witch heals

Sometimes the land speaks to the herbalist.

St. John's Wort (Hypericum perforatum) came from the semi-dry soils of Turkey and spread throughout Europe and central China as it followed the advance of farm land turned barren by overuse.

The wounded land was its nesting place, and the herbalist watched St. John's Wort's sunny yellow flowers line roadsides and other places too rough and ruined for other plants.

This is a "bandage" plant, a plant that heals the body of the land as it heals our wounded bodies.

The Greeks revered its healing properties and hung it over portraits of the dead, hoping that whatever ills the deceased had suffered would be healed and not passed on to the living.

This represents a tradition of using a tool of physical healing to facilitate healing of different levels;

many times the healer uses the herb to heal several different levels at once.

This is called Deep Healing and it is an important aspect of Green healing.

The Green Witch teaches

The day after a neighborhood friend had his big birthday party, I was in the kitchen getting an easy Saturday lunch together when I noticed three little heads bobbing under the dining room window.

I stepped into the dining room to see what the children were "up to."

As the window was open, I could hear as well as see them clearly;

my eldest daughter (age 7) was rustling around in one of the herb patches under the window under the close scrutiny of my youngest child and the birthday boy (who was holding his stomach.)

Since my children are still quite young, I don't grow any toxic plants, so I wasn't concerned for their safety — just curious.

My daughter held out a handful of freshly picked leaves for the boys to see.

"You should chew on these," she said confidently, "This is peppermint.

Mom makes us drink the tea when our tummies hurt too.

It tastes pretty good if you don't chew it too much."

I leaned quietly against the door frame blessing the sacred hoop that showed me this moment.

The previous week, I had experienced a terrible day. My plans were dampened by the misunderstanding of another;

I was heart sick.

I wandered over to the herb patch in the back of the house to check on a new chamomile patch, when a motion caught my eye.

A large raven was sitting in the hawthorn tree.

When I saw him I thought "Ah, the Hawthorn berry is good medicine for people with heart conditions.

It is also given to people grieving of a broken heart. Raven must be pointing out that this is the healing I should seek.

" But of instead eating the ripe hawthorn berries as I expected, the raven was picking at the beads of the medicine bag I had hung in the tree branches.

He caught hold of the sinew stitching with his beak and pulled.

The sinew snapped back and he lost his footing and fell backwards, flapping his wings wildly to keep upright. An avalanche of berries fell and rolled towards my feet, which I hopped over as I laughed.

Meanwhile, Raven had escaped in an indignant huff to the confines of the nearby cedar tree.

His squawks of irritation soon turned to what sounded like laughter, laughter at himself and laughter at me. Raven had given me a merry heart and just when I needed it.

I thanked him and heaved a handful of ripe seed heads under the cedar tree as an offering.

To live the life of the Green Witch is to live with many different levels of understanding at once.

I call this path Green Living.

It means that what we see is a window to all worlds and that when we are asked to help lift life back into balance, we do so.

It means that we heal with the knowledge that all beings are Raven's children and deserve love and respect. Green Living means learning the sacred language of the beings around us, a language without words — the language of life.

~~  By Suzan Stone Sierralupe  ~~

https://sites.google.com/site/apaganpath/Home/the-path-of-the-green-witch

[dfroza]

True Justice and peace.

this is what beautiful earth cries out for from its sacred ground.

and we see it in Today’s reading of the Scriptures beginning with chapter #2 of the book of Habakkuk:

I will take my place at the watchtower.

I will stand at my post and watch.

I will watch and see what He says to me.

I need to think about how I should respond to Him

When He gets back to me with His answer.

Eternal One (to Habakkuk): Write down this vision.

Write it clearly on tablets, so that anyone who reads it may run.

For the vision points ahead to a time I have appointed;

it testifies regarding the end, and it will not lie.

Even if there is a delay, wait for it.

It is coming and will come without delay.

“Look at that man, bloated by self-importance—

full of himself but soul-empty.

But the person in right standing before God

through loyal and steady believing

is fully alive, really alive.

“Note well: Money deceives.

The arrogant rich don’t last.

They are more hungry for wealth

than the grave is for cadavers.

Like death, they always want more,

but the ‘more’ they get is dead bodies.

They are cemeteries filled with dead nations,

graveyards filled with corpses.

Don’t give people like this a second thought.

Soon the whole world will be taunting them:

“‘Who do you think you are—

getting rich by stealing and extortion?

How long do you think

you can get away with this?’

Indeed, how long before your victims wake up,

stand up and make you the victim?

You’ve plundered nation after nation.

Now you’ll get a taste of your own medicine.

All the survivors are out to plunder you,

a payback for all your murders and massacres.

“Who do you think you are—

recklessly grabbing and looting,

Living it up, acting like king of the mountain,

acting above it all, above trials and troubles?

You’ve engineered the ruin of your own house.

In ruining others you’ve ruined yourself.

You’ve undermined your foundations,

rotted out your own soul.

The bricks of your house will speak up and accuse you.

The woodwork will step forward with evidence.

“Who do you think you are—

building a town by murder, a city with crime?

Don’t you know that God-of-the-Angel-Armies

makes sure nothing comes of that but ashes,

Makes sure the harder you work

at that kind of thing, the less you are?

Meanwhile the earth fills up

with awareness of God’s glory

as the waters cover the sea.

“Who do you think you are—

inviting your neighbors to your drunken parties,

Giving them too much to drink,

roping them into your sexual orgies?

You thought you were having the time of your life.

Wrong! It’s a time of disgrace.

All the time you were drinking,

you were drinking from the cup of God’s wrath.

You’ll wake up holding your throbbing head, hung over—

hung over from Lebanon violence,

Hung over from animal massacres,

hung over from murder and mayhem,

From multiple violations

of place and people.

What use is an idol shaped by its maker?

It is nothing but an image cast in metal; it teaches deception.

For a foolish idol-maker puts faith in his own creation,

a god that cannot speak.

Woe to him who says to a block of wood, “Wake up!”

or to a silent stone, “Arise!”

Are inanimate objects your teachers?

Look, it may be covered in gold and silver,

But there is no breath of life inside.

But the Eternal One is in His holy temple.

Let all the earth keep silent in His presence.

The Book of Habakkuk, Chapter 2 (The Voice / The Message)

A chapter accompanied by Today’s reading of Proverbs and Psalms for january 3 (Proverbs 3 and Psalm 3) and the 14th day of Winter (Psalm 14)

[Proverbs 3]

My son, always remember what I have taught you; keep my instructions dear to your heart.

If you do, they will be your guide to a long, healthy, prosperous life.

Stay focused; do not lose sight of mercy and truth; engrave them on a pendant, and hang it around your neck; meditate on them so they are written upon your heart.

In this way, you will win the favor of God and others, and they will think well of you.

Place your trust in the Eternal; rely on Him completely; never depend upon your own ideas and inventions.

Give Him the credit for everything you accomplish, and He will smooth out and straighten the road that lies ahead.

And don’t think you can decide on your own what is right and what is wrong. Respect the Eternal; turn and run from evil.

If you depend on Him, your body and mind will be free from the strain of a sinful life, will experience healing and health, and will be strengthened at their core.

Pay tribute to the Eternal in all of your affairs. Honor Him with the best of what you make. That way you will prosper to the fullest and have plenty of food to eat and wine to drink.

My son, do not ignore the Eternal’s instruction or lose heart when He steps in to correct you;

Because the Eternal proves His love by caring enough to discipline you, just as a father does his child, his pride and joy.

How fortunate are those who discover Lady Wisdom and those who understand her ways!

For her worth is greater than the most expensive prize you could win. Her profit is greater than the finest thing you could buy.

No gem is more precious than she is—your most extravagant desire doesn’t come close to her.

She holds the secret of a long life in one hand and riches and fame in her other hand.

Her ways are pleasant; all of her pathways are peaceful.

She is like a tree that produces a satisfied life for anyone who can wrap their arms around her; happiness waits for any who hold her tightly.

It was by wisdom that the Eternal fashioned the earth and by understanding that He designed the heavens.

Through His knowledge, the deep was divided into seas and sky, and the clouds understood when to let down the morning dew.

My son, never lose sight of God’s wisdom and knowledge: make decisions out of true wisdom, guard your good sense,

And they will be life to your soul and fine jewelry around your neck.

Then each one of your steps will land securely on your life’s journey, and you will not trip or fall.

Your mind will be clear, free from fear; when you lie down to rest, you will be refreshed by sweet sleep.

Stay calm; there is no need to be afraid of a sudden disaster or to worry when calamity strikes the wicked,

For the Eternal is always there to protect you. He will safeguard your each and every step.

Do not withhold what is good from those who deserve it; if it is within your power to give it, do it.

Do not send your neighbor away, saying, “Get back with me tomorrow. I can give it to you then,” when what he needs is already in your hand.

Make no plans that could result in injury to your neighbor; after all, he should be more secure because he lives near you.

Avoid fighting with anyone without good reason, especially when no one has hurt you; you have nothing to fight about.

Do not envy someone who profits at the expense of others or copy any of his tyrannical ways,

For crooked people are detestable to the Eternal, but those with integrity receive His counsel.

His curse lingers over the wicked and their families, but He forever favors residence of those who do what is right.

God treats the arrogant as they treat others, mocking the mockers, scorning the scornful, but He pours out His grace on the humble.

In the end, the wise will receive honor, but fools will face humiliation.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 3 (The Voice)

[Psalm 3]

Covered by the Glory

King David’s song when he was forced to flee from Absalom, his own son

[The Humbling of a King]

Lord, I have so many enemies, so many who are against me.

Listen to how they whisper their slander against me, saying:

“Look! He’s hopeless! Even God can’t save him from this!”

Pause in his presence

[The Help of God]

But in the depths of my heart I truly know

that you, Yahweh, have become my Shield;

You take me and surround me with yourself.

Your glory covers me continually.

You lift high my head when I bow low in shame.

I have cried out to you, Yahweh, from your holy presence.

You send me a Father’s help.

Pause in his presence

[The Song of Safety]

So now I’ll lie down and sleep like a baby—

then I’ll awake in safety, for you surround me with your glory.

Even though dark powers prowl around me,

I won’t be afraid.

[The Secret of Strength]

I simply cry out to you:

“Rise up and help me, Lord! Come and save me!”

And you will slap them in the face,

breaking the power of their words to harm me.

My true hero comes to my rescue,

for the Lord alone is my Savior.

What a feast of favor and bliss he gives his people!

Pause in his presence

The Book of Psalms, Poem 3 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 14]

God Looks Down from Heaven

For the Pure and Shining One, by King David

Only the withering soul would say to himself,

“There is no God.”

Anyone who thinks like this is corrupt and callous,

depraved and detestable, devoid of what is good.

The Lord looks down in love,

bending over heaven’s balcony,

looking over all of Adam’s sons and daughters.

He’s looking to see if there is anyone who acts wisely,

any who are searching for God and wanting to please him.

But no, everyone has wandered astray,

walking stubbornly toward evil.

Not one is good; he can’t even find one.

Look how they live in luxury while exploiting my people!

Won’t these workers of wickedness ever learn?

They don’t ever even think of praying to God.

But just look at them now, in panic, trembling with terror.

For the Lord is on the side of the generation of loyal lovers.

The Lord is always the safest place for the poor

when the workers of wickedness oppress them.

How I wish that Israel’s rescue

would arise from the midst of Zion!

When his people are restored,

Jacob’s joy will break forth

and Israel will be glad!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 14 (The Passion Translation)

to be concluded by the paired chapter of the Testaments with Habakkuk 2 as the 7th chapter of Acts that outlines Hebraic History and God’s seed of rebirth for all who will “believe...” as told by Stephen at a time when some people chose to hate him for what he shared, with Stephen ending as a martyr for Love:

[Stephen, Full of the Holy Spirit]

Then the Chief Priest said, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Stephen replied, “Friends, fathers, and brothers, the God of glory

appeared to our father Abraham when he was still in Mesopotamia, before the move to Haran, and told him, ‘Leave your country and family and go to the land I’ll show you.’

“So he left the country of the Chaldees and moved to Haran. After the death of his father, he immigrated to this country where you now live, but God gave him nothing, not so much as a foothold. He did promise to give the country to him and his son later on, even though Abraham had no son at the time. God let him know that his offspring would move to an alien country where they would be enslaved and brutalized for four hundred years. ‘But,’ God said, ‘I will step in and take care of those slaveholders and bring my people out so they can worship me in this place.’

“Then he made a covenant with him and signed it in Abraham’s flesh by circumcision. When Abraham had his son Isaac, within eight days he reproduced the sign of circumcision in him. Isaac became father of Jacob, and Jacob father of twelve ‘fathers,’ each faithfully passing on the covenant sign.

“But then those ‘fathers,’ burning up with jealousy, sent Joseph off to Egypt as a slave. God was right there with him, though—he not only rescued him from all his troubles but brought him to the attention of Pharaoh, king of Egypt. He was so impressed with Joseph that he put him in charge of the whole country, including his own personal affairs.

“Later a famine descended on that entire region, stretching from Egypt to Canaan, bringing terrific hardship. Our hungry fathers looked high and low for food, but the cupboard was bare. Jacob heard there was food in Egypt and sent our fathers to scout it out. Having confirmed the report, they went back to Egypt a second time to get food. On that visit, Joseph revealed his true identity to his brothers and introduced the Jacob family to Pharaoh. Then Joseph sent for his father, Jacob, and everyone else in the family, seventy-five in all. That’s how the Jacob family got to Egypt.

“Jacob died, and our fathers after him. They were taken to Shechem and buried in the tomb for which Abraham paid a good price to the sons of Hamor.

“When the four hundred years were nearly up, the time God promised Abraham for deliverance, the population of our people in Egypt had become very large. And there was now a king over Egypt who had never heard of Joseph. He exploited our race mercilessly. He went so far as forcing us to abandon our newborn infants, exposing them to the elements to die a cruel death.

“In just such a time Moses was born, a most beautiful baby. He was hidden at home for three months. When he could be hidden no longer, he was put outside—and immediately rescued by Pharaoh’s daughter, who mothered him as her own son. Moses was educated in the best schools in Egypt. He was equally impressive as a thinker and an athlete.

“When he was forty years old, he wondered how everything was going with his Hebrew kin and went out to look things over. He saw an Egyptian abusing one of them and stepped in, avenging his underdog brother by knocking the Egyptian flat. He thought his brothers would be glad that he was on their side, and even see him as an instrument of God to deliver them. But they didn’t see it that way. The next day two of them were fighting and he tried to break it up, told them to shake hands and get along with each other: ‘Friends, you are brothers, why are you beating up on each other?’

“The one who had started the fight said, ‘Who put you in charge of us? Are you going to kill me like you killed that Egyptian yesterday?’ When Moses heard that, realizing that the word was out, he ran for his life and lived in exile over in Midian. During the years of exile, two sons were born to him.

“Forty years later, in the wilderness of Mount Sinai, an angel appeared to him in the guise of flames of a burning bush. Moses, not believing his eyes, went up to take a closer look. He heard God’s voice: ‘I am the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.’ Frightened nearly out of his skin, Moses shut his eyes and turned away.

“God said, ‘Kneel and pray. You are in a holy place, on holy ground. I’ve seen the agony of my people in Egypt. I’ve heard their groans. I’ve come to help them. So get yourself ready; I’m sending you back to Egypt.’

“This is the same Moses whom they earlier rejected, saying, ‘Who put you in charge of us?’ This is the Moses that God, using the angel flaming in the burning bush, sent back as ruler and redeemer. He led them out of their slavery. He did wonderful things, setting up God-signs all through Egypt, down at the Red Sea, and out in the wilderness for forty years. This is the Moses who said to his congregation, ‘God will raise up a prophet just like me from your descendants.’ This is the Moses who stood between the angel speaking at Sinai and your fathers assembled in the wilderness and took the life-giving words given to him and handed them over to us, words our fathers would have nothing to do with.

“They craved the old Egyptian ways, whining to Aaron, ‘Make us gods we can see and follow. This Moses who got us out here miles from nowhere—who knows what’s happened to him!’ That was the time when they made a calf-idol, brought sacrifices to it, and congratulated each other on the wonderful religious program they had put together.

“God wasn’t at all pleased; but he let them do it their way, worship every new god that came down the pike—and live with the consequences, consequences described by the prophet Amos:

Did you bring me offerings of animals and grains

those forty wilderness years, O Israel?

Hardly. You were too busy building shrines

to war gods, to sex goddesses,

Worshiping them with all your might.

That’s why I put you in exile in Babylon.

“And all this time our ancestors had a tent shrine for true worship, made to the exact specifications God provided Moses. They had it with them as they followed Joshua, when God cleared the land of pagans, and still had it right down to the time of David. David asked God for a permanent place for worship. But Solomon built it.

“Yet that doesn’t mean that Most High God lives in a building made by carpenters and masons. The prophet Isaiah put it well when he wrote,

“Heaven is my throne room;

I rest my feet on earth.

So what kind of house

will you build me?” says God.

“Where I can get away and relax?

It’s already built, and I built it.”

“And you continue, so bullheaded! Calluses on your hearts, flaps on your ears! Deliberately ignoring the Holy Spirit, you’re just like your ancestors. Was there ever a prophet who didn’t get the same treatment? Your ancestors killed anyone who dared talk about the coming of the Just One. And you’ve kept up the family tradition—traitors and murderers, all of you. You had God’s Law handed to you by angels—gift-wrapped!—and you squandered it!”

At that point they went wild, a rioting mob of catcalls and whistles and invective. But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, hardly noticed—he only had eyes for God, whom he saw in all his glory with Jesus standing at his side. He said, “Oh! I see heaven wide open and the Son of Man standing at God’s side!”

Yelling and hissing, the mob drowned him out. Now in full stampede, they dragged him out of town and pelted him with rocks. The ringleaders took off their coats and asked a young man named Saul to watch them.

As the rocks rained down, Stephen prayed, “Master Jesus, take my life.” Then he knelt down, praying loud enough for everyone to hear, “Master, don’t blame them for this sin”—his last words. Then he died.

The Book of Acts, Chapter 7 (The Message)

[globalvibration-blog]

The statement of Holy Writ, that “man is conceived in sin and brought forth in iniquity” has a three-fold meaning, viz., chemical, physiological and astrological. The real meaning in the original is, that the human embryo remains nine months in the female laboratory, thus falling short three months of completing a solar or soul year. It also represents the journey of the ego from the moon to earth, or conception. Twelve, which represents the circle and stands for completion.

The word sin comes from Schin, the twenty-first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, and means to fall short of completeness, or understanding, wisdom. In the Tarot symbol, S, or Sin, is represented by the “Blind Fool,” one lacking in wisdom, “Brought forth in iniquity” is merely a repetition of the words “born in sin.” Iniquity and inequity or unequal, mean the same. The ancient Hebrews called Moon, Sin, because it gave light only part of the time. “Know ye not that your bodies are the temple (church) of God?”

There are twelve inorganic mineral cell-salts in the human body, and these minerals (stones in the temple) correspond in vibration to the twelve signs of the Zodiac. During the nine months of gestation the embryo receives and appropriates the creative energies of nine of these salts, leaving three to be supplied after the parting of the umbilical cord. Take for example a native born February 22nd, with the Sun’s entry into Pisces: The embryo, having begun its journey at the gate of Gemini and negotiated the nine gestatory signs, his blood vibration at birth is thus deficient in the qualities of Pisces, Aries and Taurus, as also in the chemical dynamics of phosphate of iron, phosphate of potassium and sulphate of sodium-t- the mineral bases respectively of the signs of this uncompleted quadrant.

The Optic Thalamus, meaning “light of the chamber” is the inner or third eye, situated in the center of the head. It connects the pineal gland and the pituitary body. The optic nerve starts from this “eye single.” “If thine eye be single, thy whole body will be full of light.” The optic thalamus is the Aries planet and when fully developed through physical regeneration it lifts the initiate up from the Kingdom of Earth, animal desire below the solar plexus, to the pineal gland that connects the cerebellum, the temple of the Spiritual Ego, with the optic thalamus, the third eye.

By this regenerative process millions of dormant cells of the brain are resurrected and set in operation, and then m’.an no longer “sees through a glass darkly,” but with the Eye of spiritual understanding. We venture to predict that the planet corresponding to the optic thalamus will soon be located in the heavens. “The new order cometh.” Mars must be dethroned as ruler of the brain of man.

To those who object to linking chemistry with astrology, the writer has this to say :

The Cosmic Law is not in the least disturbed by negative statements of the ignorant individual. Those investigators of natural phenomena, who delve deeply to find Truth, pay little heed to the babbler who says, “I can’t understand how the zodiacal signs can have any relation to the cell-salts of the human body.” The sole reason that he “cannot understand” is because he never tried to understand. A little earnest, patient study will open the understanding of any one possessed of ordinary intelligence and make plain the great truth that the UNI-verse is what the word implies, i.e., one verse.

Man has been deficient in understanding because his brain receiver did not vibrate to certain subtle influences. The dynamic cells in the gray matter of the nerves were not finely attuned and did not respond hence sin, or falling short of understanding. From the teachings of the Chemistry of Life we find that the basis of the brain or ne^rve fluid is a certain mineral salt known as potassium phosphate, or Kali Phos.

A deficiency in this brain constituent means “sin,” or a falling short of judgment or proper comprehension. With the advent of the Aries Lord, God, or planet, cellsalts are rapidly coming to the fore as the basis of all healing. Kali phosphate is the greatest healing agent known to man, because it is the chemical base of material expression and understanding.

The cell-salts of the human organism are now being prepared for use, while poisonous drugs are being discarded everywhere. Kali phosphate is the especial birth salt for those born between March 21 and April 19.

Bonacci continued:

When Jesus was born, they put him in “swaddling clothes.” Now the psychic germ (fish) is composed of the concentrated essence of life and is covered by a gossamer capsule for protection. If this swaddling cloth is broken, the “precious ointment” is lost, i.e. it disintegrates and corrupts the blood.

Bonacci: “The only real sin is the wasting of energy.” Additionally, Bonacci stated that one should not drink alcohol, overeat or smoke cigarettes, all of whic poison your system.

Alcohol in all its deceptive forms is the arch foe to this life-seed and seeks by every means known to the enemy of man to destroy it. No drunkard shall inherit the Kingdom of Heaven” because alcohol destroys the redeeming substance that enables man to understand or think in his heart the thoughts of the Spirit. Alcohol cuts the capsule that holds the Esse born every month in Bethlehem. Alcohol eats the fruit of the tree of life.

Gluttony is another enemy to regeneration. All excess of food, all that is not burnt up in the furnace the stomach and intestinal tract, all that is not properly digested, ferments and produces acid which develops alcohol.

Auto-intoxication is common among those who overeat. Most everyone overeats.

The furnace, stomach and digestive tract becomes a distillery when the surplus food ferments, and thus be- comes Babylon, the home of unclean birds and beasts which pander to carnal mind. Here we have the reason why sickness was considered Sin by the ancients. “To heal the sick and cast out devils” is the mission of the seed. “He that is born of God cannot sin, or be sick, for his seed remaineth in him.” “The blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin,” therefore from all disease. Here is the physiological explanation: When the Christed substance, the ointment from the river of Jordan, the oil in the spinal cord, reaches the pineal gland, it vibrates to a rate that causes new blood the new wine. This is the blood of Christ that heals all infirmities. Unless so- called Christians repent of their sins, the doom of the church is at hand, “Mene, mene teckel upharsin” is writ- ten on the wall.

When the earthly man is controlled by the spiritual man the Lord God he ceases to eat of the fruit, that is, waste it. This fruit is then carried up to the brain and “Eaten in the Father’s Kingdom.” “And the last enemy to be overcome is death.” We overcome death by ceasing to die, and in no other way. “He that believeth in me, shall not perish.” Those who die are sinners, and therefore are not Christians, for Christ Jesus was (is) without sin. “The wages of Sin is death.” Repent, forsake evil, take up thy Cross, call upon the Lord and He will abundantly pardon. “And the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion.” When the sexual functions are used for the propagation of human bodies, there is no condemnation or sin.

“And I saw a woman clothed with the Sun, having the Moon under her feet and twelve stars upon her head.” The Sun is the Seed, the “Son of Man,” the product of her own body, saved and lifted up. The Moon refers to the generative life. Twelve stars are the twelve functions, typified by twelve zodiacal signs, which she has mastered through physical regeneration.

“When thou prayest, enter into thy closet and pray to thy Father in secret, and he shall reward thee openly.” The word Secret is derived from Secretions. The upper brain, the Cerebrum, contains the secretions, gray matter, creative or that which creates, builds and supplies all the life force of the human temple, Soul of Man’s (Solomon’s temple). Hence God, the Creator, dwells in you. The cerebellum is his throne.

The suture of the skull is the point where the bones meet. We can very easily see this place on the head of infants, as the sections are not then drawn closely together, and the vibrations of the brain can be both seen and felt. In Sanscrit this is called “The Door of Brahm,” for it is the apperture through which the Ego, or Spirit leaves the body. It is also the chimney of Santa Claus. The vertebrae as a whole is called the “stick of Brahm.” Directly underneath the “door of Brahm” is a triangular shaped body named in physiology the “Island of Reil.” This is the place where “John” was when “he” looked back and saw the wonderful vision of the regenerated man in the “Isle of Patmos” This island is the central lobe of the cerebrum, and is also called the Pole; hence, the Island of Reil is the North Pole of the body, and is, as we well know, the imperishable, sacred land.

In Santee’s anatomy of the brain and spinal cord, we find that this island is “situated in the medial wall of the lateral fissure of the cerebrum, between the frontal, parietal and temporal lobes, whose growth, after the fifth month in utero, gradually covers it over. At the end of the first year of extrauterine life, it is entirely concealed by temporal, parietal and frontal parts of the operculum” cover or lid. Thus we see that Mother Nature has taken great pains to conceal this sacred center. Underneath this island, and directly in a line with the Optic Thalamus lies the Claustrum, but separated from it by yet three other bodies.

The claustrum is a thin sheet of isolated gray matter, found just medial to the Island of Reil. Santee says it “is a sheet of peculiar gray substance, and is made up of fusiform (spindle shaped) cell-bodies.” It is from this claustrum that contains yellow substance within its outer grayish exterior, that the wonderful, priceless OIL is formed that flows down into the olivary fasciculus, “descending with the rubro-spinal tract through the reticular formation in the pons and medulla to the lateral column of the spinal cord. It terminates in the gray matter of the spinal cord, probably giving off collaterals to corresponding nuclei in the brain stem.” Santee. This is the OIL, the precious gift of which the Bible speaks, “Thou anointest my head with oil.”

And not only is there oil manufactured within this special laboratory of the brain, but there is actually an olive tree, which bears actual olives so named in any anatomy. The two olives are two infinitesimal eminences on either side of the medulla, with the Pyramid between. They are one-half inch in length. It is found well developed only in the higher mammals. They are RELAY (Santee) stations between the cerebrum and the cerebellum and between the spinal cord and the cerebellum.

This oil is the most sacred substance in the body it is the quintessence of gold the “Gold of Ophir” most trulv a rare gift. Globules of oil are found in the vital fluid, the semen, and when the prodigal son has wasted his substance, he finds that it takes a long time to replace the deficiency and make good the looted bank account.

This wonderful oil is the secret work of the immaculate Virgin, Mary (or Mare) “represented by the sign Virgo. In chemistry we find that sulphate of potassium is the mineral salt, which, uniting with sulphur and oxygen, manufactures the oil. We find that this salt also crystallizes out from the mother-liquors of sea water and salt springs. People born under the sign Virgo, if they have become deficient in this salt suffer from dryness of the skin, and baldness. We can also understand why draining of the vital fluid living in excesses, will also produce baldness. If there were no oil in the body, the skin would become harsh and dry.

The story of the wise virgins who had their lamps trimmed and filled with oil is given to emphasize the necessity for the presence of oil in the body, for they cannot go out to meet the “bridegroom” unless their lamps are burning. “The lamb is the lamp thereof.”

The olives, which contain the oil, are the reservoirs the relay stations, of course, which furnish the oil for the lamp, the pineal gland, at the top of which is the flame or eye. When the Kundalini, the serpent fire that lies concealed within the sacral plexus is awakened, burns up the dross within the spinal cord, and reaches the conarium, it sets fire to this oil and thus lights the “perpetual lamp,” which “Gives the light to the whole house.”

Santa Claus is thus the giver of the supreme gift in the human body, the oil for the perpetual lamp the gold of Ophir, the quintessence of richness.

A total lack of oil in the body will, in itself, cause death.

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Next morning, before Esk got up, Granny hid the staff in the thatch, well out of harm's way. Esk ate her breakfast and drank a pint of goat's milk without the least sign of the events of the last twenty-four hours. It was the first time she had been inside Granny's cottage for more than a brief visit, and while the old woman washed the dishes and milked the goats she made the most of her implied license to explore. She found that life in the cottage wasn't entirely straightforward. There was the matter of the goats' names, for example. “But they've got to have names!” she said. “Everything's got a name.” Granny looked at her around the pear-shaped flanks of the head nanny, while the milk squirted into the low pail. “I daresay they've got names in Goat,” she said vaguely. “What do they want names in Human for?” “Well,” said Esk, and stopped. She thought for a bit. “How do you make them do what you want, then?” “They just do, and when they want me they holler.” Esk gravely gave the head goat a wisp of hay. Granny watched her thoughtfully. Goats did have names for themselves, she well knew: there was “goat who is my kid”, “goat who is my mother”, “goat who is herd leader”, and half a dozen other names not least of which was “goat who is this goat”. They had a complicated herd system and four stomachs and a digestive system that sounded very busy on still nights, and Granny had always felt that calling all this names like Buttercup was an insult to a noble animal. “Esk? ” she said, making up her mind. “Yes?” “What would you like to be when you grow up?” Esk looked blank. “Don't know.” “Well,” said Granny, her hands still milking, “what do you think you will do when you are grown up?” “Don't know. Get married, I suppose.” “Do you want to?” Esk's lips started to shape themselves around the D, but she caught Granny's eye and stopped, and thought. “All the grown ups I know are married,” she said at last, and thought some more. “Except you,” she added, cautiously. “That's true,” said Granny. “Didn't you want to get married?” It was Granny's turn to think. “Never got around to it,” she said at last. “Too many other things to do, you see.” “Father says you're a witch,” said Esk, chancing her arm. “I am that.” Esk nodded. In the Ramtops witches were accorded a status similar to that which other cultures gave to nuns, or tax collectors, or cesspit cleaners. That is to say, they were respected, sometimes admired, generally applauded for doing a job which logically had to be-done, but people never felt quite comfortable in the same room with them. Granny said, “Would you like to learn the witching?” “Magic, you mean?” asked Esk, her eyes lighting up. “Yes, magic. But not firework magic. Real magic.” “Can you fly?” “There's better things than flying.” “And I can learn them?” “If your parents say yes.” Esk sighed. “My father won't.” “Then I shall have a word with him,” said Granny. “Now you just listen to me, Gordo Smith!” Smith backed away across his forge, hands half-raised to ward off the old woman's fury. She advanced on him, one finger stabbing the air righteously. “I brought you into the world, you stupid man, and you've got no more sense in you now than you had then -” “But -” Smith tried, dodging around the anvil. “The magic's found her! Wizard magic! Wrong magic, do you understand? It was never intended for her!” “Yes, but -” “Have you any idea of what it can do?” Smith sagged. “No.” Granny paused, and deflated a little. “No,” she repeated, more softly. “No, you wouldn't.” She sat down on the anvil and tried to think calm thoughts. “Look. Magic has a sort of - life of its own. That doesn't matter, because - anyway, you see, wizard magic -” she looked up at his big, blank expression and tried again. “Well, you know cider?” Smith nodded. He felt he was on firmer ground here, but he wasn't certain of where it was going to lead. “And then there's the ticker. Applejack,” said the witch. The smith nodded. Everyone in Bad Ass made applejack in the winter, by leaving cider tubs outside overnight and taking out the ice until a tiny core of alcohol was left. “Well, you can drink lots of cider and you just feel better and that's it, isn't it?” The smith nodded again. “But applejack, you drink that in little mugs and you don't drink a lot and you don't drink it often, because it goes right to your head?” The smith nodded again and, aware that he wasn't making a major contribution to the dialogue, added, “That's right.” “That's the difference,” said Granny. “The difference from what?” Granny sighed. “The difference between witch magic and wizard magic,” she said. “And it's found her, and if she doesn't control it, then there are those who will control her. Magic can be a sort of door, and there are unpleasant things on the other side. Do you understand?” The smith nodded. He didn't really understand, but he correctly surmised that if he revealed this fact Granny would start going into horrible details. “She's strong in her mind and it might take a while,” said Granny. “But sooner or later they'll challenge her.” Smith picked up a hammer from his bench, looked at it as though he had never seen it before, and put it down again. “But,” he said, “if it's wizard magic she's got, learning witchery won't be any good, will it? You said they're different.” “They're both magic. If you can't learn to ride an elephant, you can at least learn to ride a horse.” “What's an elephant?” “A kind of badger,” said Granny. She hadn't maintained forest credibility for forty years by ever admitting ignorance. The blacksmith sighed. He knew he was beaten. His wife had made it clear that she favored the idea and, now that he came to think about it, there were some advantages. After all, Granny wouldn't last forever, and being father to the area's only witch might not be too bad, at that. “All right,” he said. And so, as the winter turned and started the long, reluctant climb towards spring, Esk spent days at a time with Granny Weatherwax, learning witch craft. It seemed to consist mainly of things to remember. The lessons were quite practical. There was cleaning the kitchen table and Basic Herbalism. There was mucking out the goats and The Uses of Fungi. There was doing the washing and The Summoning of the Small Gods. And there was always tending the big copper still in the scullery and The Theory and Practice of Distillation. By the time the warm Rim winds were blowing, and the snow remained only as little streaks of slush on the Hub side of trees, Esk knew how to prepare a range of ointments, several medicinal brandies, a score of special infusions, and a number of mysterious potions that Granny said she might learn the use of in good time. What she hadn't done was any magic at all. “All in good time,” repeated Granny vaguely. “But I'm supposed to be a witch!” “You're not a witch yet. Name me three herbs good for the bowels.” Esk put her hands behind her back, closed her eyes, and said: “The flowering tops of Greater Peahane, the root pith of Old Man's Trousers, the stems of the Bloodwater Lily, the seedcases of -” “All right. Where may water gherkins be found?” “Peat bogs and stagnant pools, from the months of -” “Good. You're learning.” “But it's not magic!” Granny sat down at the kitchen table. “Most magic isn't,” she said. “It's just knowing the right herbs, and learning to watch the weather, and finding out the ways of animals. And the ways of people, too.” “That's all it is!” said Esk, horrified. “All? It's a pretty big all,” said Granny, “But no, it isn't all. There's other stuff.” “Can't you teach me?” “All in good time. There's no call to go showing yourself yet.” “Showing myself? Who to?” Granny's eyes darted towards the shadows in the corners of the room. “Never you mind.” Then even the last lingering tails of snow had gone and the spring gales roared around the mountains. The air in the forest began to smell of leaf mould and turpentine. A few early flowers braved the night frosts, and the bees started to fly. “Now bees,” said Granny Weatherwax, “is real magic.” She carefully lifted the lid of the first hive. “Your bees,” she went on, “is your mead, your wax, your bee gum, your honey. A wonderful thing is your bee. Ruled by a queen, too,” she added, with a touch of approval. “Don't they sting you?” said Esk, standing back a little. Bees boiled out of the comb and overflowed the rough wooden sides of the box. “Hardly ever,” said Granny. “You wanted magic. Watch.” She put a hand into the struggling mass of insects and made a shrill, faint piping noise at the back of her throat. There was a movement in the mass, and a large bee, longer and fatter than the others, crawled on to her hand. A few workers followed it, stroking it and generally ministering to it. “How did you do that?” said Esk. “Ah,” said Granny, “Wouldn't you like to know?” “Yes. I would. That's why I asked, Granny,” said Esk, severely. “Do you think I used magic?” Esk looked down at the queen bee. She looked up at the witch. “No,” she said, “I think you just know a lot about bees.” Granny grinned. “Exactly correct. That's one form of magic, of course.” “What, just knowing things?” “Knowing things that other people don't know,” said Granny. She carefully dropped the queen back among her subjects and closed the lid of the hive. “And I think it's time you learned a few secrets,” she added. At last, thought Esk. “But first, we must pay our respects to the Hive,” said Granny. She managed to sound the capital H. Without thinking, Esk bobbed a curtsey. Granny's hand clipped the back of her head. “Bow, I told you,” she said, without rancor. “Witches bow.” She demonstrated. “But why?” complained Esk. “Because witches have got to be different, and that's part of the secret,” said Granny. They sat on a bleached bench in front of the rimward wall of the cottage. In front of them the Herbs were already a foot high, a sinister collection of pale green leaves. “Right,” said Granny, settling herself down. “You know the hat on the hook by the door? Go and fetch it.” Esk obediently went inside and unhooked Granny's hat. It was tall, pointed and, of course, black.

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Granny turned it over in her hands and regarded it carefully. “Inside this hat,” she said solemnly, “is one of the secrets of witchcraft. If you cannot tell me what it is, then I might as well teach you no more, because once you learn the secret of the hat there is no going back. Tell me what you know about the hat.” “Can I hold it?” “Be my guest.” Esk peered inside the hat. There was some wire stiffening to give it a shape, and a couple of hatpins. That was all. There was nothing particularly strange about it, except that no one in the village had one like it. But that didn't make it magical. Esk bit her lip; she had a vision of herself being sent home in disgrace. It didn't feel strange, and there were no hidden pockets. It was just a typical witch's hat. Granny always wore it when she went into the village, but in the forest she just wore a leather hood. She tried to recall the bits of lessons that Granny grudgingly doled out. It isn't what you know, it's what other people don't know. Magic can be something right in the wrong place, or something wrong in the right place. It can be Granny always wore it to the village. And the big black cloak, which certainly wasn't magical, because for most of the winter it had been a goat blanket and Granny washed it in the spring. Esk began to feel the shape of the answer and she didn't like it much. It was like a lot of Granny's answers. Just a word trick. She just said things you knew all the time, but in a different way so they sounded important. “I think I know,” she said at last. “Out with it, then.” “It's in sort of two parts.” “Well?” “It's a witch's hat because you wear it. But you're a witch because you wear the hat. Um.” “So -”prompted Granny. “So people see you coming in the hat and the cloak and they know you're a witch and that's why your magic works?” said Esk. “That's right,” said Granny. “It's called headology.” She tapped her silver hair, which was drawn into a tight bun that could crack rocks. “But it's not real!” Esk protested. “That's not magic, it's it's -” “Listen,” said Granny, “If you give someone a bottle of red jollop for their wind it may work, right, but if you want it to work for sure then you let their mind make it work for them. Tell 'em it's moonbeams bottled in fairy wine or something. Mumble over it a bit. It's the same with cursing.” “Cursing?” said Esk, weakly. “Aye, cursing, my girl, and no need to look so shocked! You'll curse, when the need comes. When you're alone, and there's no help to hand, and -” She hesitated and, uncomfortably aware of Esk's questioning eyes, finished lamely: “- and people aren't showing respect. Make it loud, make it complicated, make it long, and make it up if you have to, but it'll work all right. Next day, when they hit their thumb or they fall off a ladder or their dog drops dead, they'll remember you. They'll behave better next time.” “But it still doesn't seem like magic,” said Esk, scuffing the dust with her feet. “I saved a man's life once,” said Granny. “Special medicine, twice a day. Boiled water with a bit of berry juice in it. Told him I'd bought it from the dwarves. That's the biggest part of doct'rin, really. Most people'll get over most things if they put their minds to it, you just have to give them an interest.” She patted Esk's hand as nicely as possible. “You're a bit young for this,” she said, “but as you grow older you'll find most people don't set foot outside their own heads much. You too,” she added gnomically. “I don't understand.” “I'd be very surprised if you did,” said Granny briskly, “but you can tell me five herbs suitable for dry coughs.” Spring began to unfold in earnest. Granny started taking Esk on long walks that took all day, to hidden ponds or high on to the mountain scree to collect rare plants. Esk enjoyed that, high on the hills where the sun beat down strongly but the air was nevertheless freezing cold. Plants grew thickly and hugged the ground. From some of the highest peaks she could see all the way to the Rim Ocean that ran around the edge of the world; in the other direction the Ramtops marched into the distance, wrapped in eternal winter. They went all the way to the hub of the world where, it was generally agreed, the Gods lived on a ten-mile high mountain of rock and ice. “Gods are all right,” said Granny, as they ate their lunch and looked at the view. “You don't bother gods, and gods don't come bothering you.” “Do you know many gods?” “I've seen the thundergods a few times,” said Granny, “and Hoki, of course.” “Hold? ” Granny chewed a crustless sandwich. “Oh, he's a nature god,” she said. “Sometimes he manifests himself as an oak tree, or half a man and half a goat, but mainly I see him in his aspect as a bloody nuisance. You only find him in the deep woods, of course. He plays the flute. Very badly, if you must know.” Esk lay on her stomach and looked out across the lands below while a few hardy, self-employed bumblebees patrolled the thyme clusters. The sun was warm on her back but, up here, there were still drifts of snow on the hubside of rocks. “Tell me about the lands down there,” she said lazily. Granny peered disapprovingly at ten thousand miles of landscape. “They're just other places,” she said. “Just like here, only different.” “Are there cities and things?” “Idaresay.” “Haven't you ever been to look?” Granny sat back, gingerly arranging her skirt to expose several inches of respectable flannelette to the sun, and let the heat caress her old bones. “No,” she said. “There's quite enough troubles around here without going to look for them in forn parts.” “I dreamed of a city once,” said Esk. “It had hundreds of people in it, and there was this building with big gates, and they were magical gates -” A sound like tearing cloth came from behind her. Granny had fallen asleep. “Granny! ” “Mhnf?” Esk thought for a moment. “Are you having a good time?” she said artfully. “Mnph.” “You said you'd show me some real magic, all in good time,” said Esk, “and this is a good time.” “Mnph.” Granny Weatherwax opened her eyes and looked straight up at the sky; it was darker up here, more purple than blue. She thought: why not? She's a quick learner. She knows more herblore than I do. At her age old Gammer Tumult had me Borrowing and Shifting and Sending all the hours of the day. Maybe I'm being too cautious. “Just a bit?” pleaded Esk. Granny turned it over in her mind. She couldn't think of any more excuses. I'm surely going to regret this, she told herself, displaying considerable foresight. “All right,” she said shortly. “Real magic?” said Esk. “Not more herbs or headology?” “Real magic, as you call it, yes.” “A spell?” “No. A Borrowing.” Esk's face was a picture of expectation. She looked more alive, it seemed to Granny, than she had ever been before. Granny looked over the valleys stretching out before them until she found what she was after. A grey eagle was circling lazily over a distant blue-hazed patch of forest. Its mind was currently at ease. It would do nicely. She Called it gently, and it began to circle towards them. “The first thing to remember about Borrowing is that you must be comfortable and somewhere safe,” she said, smoothing out the grass behind her. “Bed's best.” “But what is Borrowing?” “Lie down and hold my hand. Do you see the eagle up there?” Esk squinted into the dark, hot sky. There were . . . two doll figures on the grass below as she pivoted on the wind .... She could feel the whip and wire of the air through her feathers. Because the eagle was not hunting, but simply enjoying the feel of the sun on its wings, the land below was a mere unimportant shape. But the air, the air was a complex, changing three-dimensional thing, an interlocked pattern of spirals and curves that stretched away into the distance, a switchback of currents built around thermal pillars. She . . . . . . felt a gentle pressure restraining her. “The next thing to remember, ” said Granny's voice, very close, “is not to upset the owner. If you let it know you're there it'll either fight you or panic, and you won't stand a chance either way. It's had a lifetime of being an eagle, and you haven't.” Esk said nothing. “You're not frightened, are you?” said Granny. “It can take you that way the first time, and -” “I'm not frightened,” said Esk, and “How do I control it?” “You don't. Not yet. Anyway, controlling a truly wild creature isn't easily learned. You have to - sort of suggest to it that it might feel inclined to do things. With a tame animal, of course, it's all different. But you can't make any creature do anything that is totally against its nature. Now try and find the eagle's mind.” Esk could sense Granny as a diffuse silver cloud at the back of her own mind. After some searching she found the eagle. She almost missed it. Its mind was small, sharp and purple, like an arrowhead. It was concentrating entirely on flying, and took no notice of her. “Good,” said Granny approvingly. “We're not going to go far. If you want to make it turn, you must -” “Yes, yes,” said Esk. She flexed her fingers, wherever they were, and the bird leaned against the air and turned. “Very good,” said Granny, taken aback. “How did you do that?” “I - don't know. It just seemed obvious.” “Hmph.” Granny gently tested the tiny eagle mind. It was still totally oblivious of its passengers. She was genuinely impressed, a very rare occurrence. They floated over the mountain, while Esk excitedly explored the eagle's senses. Granny's voice droned through her consciousness, giving instructions and guidance and warnings. She listened with half an ear. It sounded far too complicated. Why couldn't she take over the eagle's mind? It wouldn't hurt it. She could see how to do it, it was just a knack, like snapping your fingers - which in fact she had never managed to achieve - and then she'd be able to experience flying for real, not at second hand. Then she could “Don't,” said Granny calmly. “No good will come of it.” “What?” “Do you really think you're the first, my girl? Do you think we haven't all thought what a fine thing it would be, to take on another body and tread the wind or breathe the water? And do you really think it would be as easy as that?” Esk glowered at her. “No need to look like that,” said Granny. “You'll thank me one day. Don't you start playing around before you know what you're about, eh? Before you get up to tricks you've got to learn what to do if things go wrong. Don't try to walk before you can run.” “I can feel how to do it, Granny.”