⸻ 𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚛. 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝 / 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝. 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐜. 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 @thegiftofcruelty.
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Cosimo Galluzzi
styofa doing anything
ojovivo
Sade Olutola

Kaledo Art
todays bird

if i look back, i am lost

tannertan36

Kiana Khansmith
taylor price
Peter Solarz
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Today's Document

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Origami Around
Stranger Things
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
dirt enthusiast

pixel skylines

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@goreamour
⸻ 𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚛. 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝 / 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝. 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐜. 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 @thegiftofcruelty.
♡ ⸻ HANNIBAL LECTER !
“He’s in the basement. I’ve kept your stitches small.” He wore a black butcher’s apron, his maroon eyes flecked scarlet in the darkness when they aimed her way. A fresh pair of clothes sat on the coffee table away from the blue sterile field in which Hannibal Lecter worked, as meticulous in every aspect of his life as he was about surgery. She would be fine and she would stay bait-pretty for the particular men they hoped to ensnare. “I took the liberty of examining you while you were unconscious.” Involuntarily he looked away from the stitch on her thigh. For Lecter, that was as close as he came to embarrassment. The man had a kind of hooked Spyderco knife. He must have ‘earned’ a living cutting purses with it on the subway. Lecter had kept it. Duller than the Feather brand scalpels he preferred, but it had been loved once, almost as much as the schoolgirl’s she’d been dressed as.
“I will give you privacy to change. Unfortunately, we’ve gone through all of your comfort clothing. I know how you love your dull hoodies and sweatpants… But you’ll have to make due with that costume until I can get all the blood out of your laundry. Some of it, this time, is yours.”
He gathered everything up and did as he said, gave her privacy and started pre-soaking her clothes. The sounds of the washing machine going in the basement.
for a moment she almost panics. she hated every aspect of her transformation ⸻ the power was never worth it. she is confused and wary of her surroundings. yes, she trusts this man who never had to say much. leona gently pushes herself up ( fast enough that her head spins ) hearing the word "Examine" naturally forces her arms to enclose against her form. she can taste the iron between her teeth. crimson aftertaste. not so nice.
she isn't ignoring him yet everything he says fails to register in her mind. gently pushing past the kitchen with a minor limp she manages to open the sliding door. a huff escapes her lips as she manages to stretch to grab a towel. saying nothing the door opens and soon behind her.
the water is cold ( her toe rests on the top step of the abandoned pool ) it was a miracle to see how it remained so clean. she can feel the panic. all fabric around her form is aggressively ripped from it "why can't I remember anything?" a mutter escapes bloody lips. moving into the water of the abandoned spa she begins to scrub. soft gasps escape her as her nails dig into flesh.
this was a fate she never asked for ⸻ yet, cursed and damned by creatures many others couldn't see. she dunks her head into the water for a moment. the darkness gathers around her while water consumes her. leona had been reminded of her childhood ( the wild "outbursts" no one could understand ) only it was the monsters she could see that would provoke her. it was a difficult life. one that constantly threatened to swallow her whole.
gently pushing to the surface it was apparent that she still had a situation to deal with. her recent wound stings against the cold water. moving to the stairs and allowing the towel to take form she slowly opens the door before returning to the warm living room.
an emerald green dressing gown rests ( and oversized ) on her form. a giant "D.E" is woven into the top pocket. it was her grandfathers. it smelt just as old. she offers the doctor a miserable look. she didn't know where to begin. taking a deep breath in front of him she adjusts her body to stand straight and remain cold. "what do you mean he's downstairs?" eyes blink while her neck stretches as the direction of her chin moves to the side. however, that stare remains center on the man.
"thank you for the stitches." she gives in only for a moment. "I have to say I don't remember anything."
photography by Nona Limmen
https://www.instagram.com/nonalimmen/
SYMBOLISM OF BAPHOMET
Baphomet is obviously androgynous, with female breasts and the very phallic caduceus, representing the union of male and female.
The wings represent spirituality and ascension while the goat’s head represents sin and the animalistic nature of humans.
The wings represent Air and birds, the scales on its belly represent Water and fish, and its hooves represent Earth and mammals. The torch represents Fire.
The gesture that Baphomet is making with its hands represents the Hermetic Principle of Correspondence, “That which is above is like that which is below.” The “above” is the macrocosm, either the literal universe at large or the divine realms. The “below” is the microcosm, life on earth or the human body itself. And if you affect one, you affect the other.
The words on its arms, “solve” and “coagula,” mean “to separate” and “to bring together.” They summarize the alchemical process.
The torch on its head represents intelligence, divine knowledge, and enlightenment, the soul over the body. The pentagram on its head is upright, putting spirit above matter.
The white and black moon represent the sephiroth Chesed and Geburah (respectively), therefore the qualities of mercy and severity (respectively).
The caduceus in its lap, in addition to being a phallic symbol, is representative of magical power, healing, and bringing together of opposites. (Apparently also eternal life.)
The circle behind the caduceus is reminiscent of the Ouroboros, representing the Principle of Mentalism — all of the universe is in the mind of God. It also apparently represents the atmosphere, probably the “cosmic Void,” prima materia.
Baphomet is a personification of the process of magic. And yet for some reason, all people seem to remember is the goat’s head.
Works by Woman-of-DarkDesires
This artist on Instagram
ritual
photography by mmcustomart
We reap what we sow. Only a handful of Flux Arcana Tarot decks remain at the shop link in my bio.
“You need to stay. And you need to stay loudly. You’re afraid of making bad choices but the truth is this: the tiniest actions will influence the course of the rest of your life and you cannot control it. So many factors play a part in you being here today: a delayed train, an extra cup of tea, the number of seconds your parents took to cross the street. This is chaos theory. Sensitivity. Mathematics. You are here. And every choice you have ever made had led to right now, reading this. While you exist, every movement and moment matters; those bad choices led you to the best days of your life, if you were to play it all in rewind. So let them go. Change will come. Even if you’re standing still. Butterflies will keep flapping their wings and causing hurricanes. So, make your choices and make them loud. Trust your gut. Trust energy. And if you ceased to exist? Oh, the Universe would notice. The mess that would make. The hearts that would break. So just stay. Stay for bad choices. Stay for great ones. Stay. Cause a few hurricanes.”
─ s.r.w
No more masters. A few copies of the Flux Arcana Tarot deck remain at the shop link in my bio, while supplies last.
Fengyuan Fing
Blót II and Blót by Maéna Paillet
art by ikosidio
https://www.instagram.com/ikosidio/
cambion art
As above so below. Low stock - only a handful of Flux Arcana Tarot decks remain at the shop link in my bio.