#cryptic writing

[cryptidsandchaos]

i am both a guardian angel

and an ancient warning

[sunny-days-and-warm-mournings]

Rules of Revelry

— Be kind to those who gifts you fruit and honey, the trees had given their bounty but the roots held things you cannot refuse.

— If a child gives you a crown of flowers, a bracelet of daisies if you are as kind to yourself as you are to the ground that holds, you can bend down and tell them your secrets.

—They will giggle and laugh, because they are beings from someplace else and their duty is to make you theirs. Slowly, until they own your secrets and you'll see your name in a goblet of wine.

— The crows you see overhead is not a warning, but a welcome to the land. You will hear them croon and you will find trinkets in the brim of your hats.

— The ravens are different, for they are there to welcome Fall. To whisper to the falling leaves and sing to the little bones underneath the gardens. They are there to welcome, always, and they bare their teeth to those unwelcome.

— Pine cones and pine needles make great fires. Throw a cone into the hearth and you'll see life brimming from it's sap.

— When it is Spring, you will see the deers prance about in the forest. Sometimes there are things hanging from their antlers— lovely things like chains of delphinium and baby's breath touching their ears.

— Sometimes they fall off and you can take them. Just don't take them too far away from their home or something else will follow you.

— Summer is different. You bend down to the shores of the river and the fish are grown too big for their own good.

— You will see their eyes shimmer underneath those waters. Glittering like pearls or glowing like forgotten amber. Be sure to catch them.

— Fall is where you'll hear the singing. In Spring, you'd hear a subtle hum that followed the deers and the touch of something from the petals. In Fall, there is someone singing, like a siren of the mountains.

— His voice had brought down nations, and the men who had followed his voice had always come back different. There is a fog in their eyes, a shake in their bones and they go to the forest at the middle of the night. Their remains found hanging over the branches of old trees.

— Festivities is what they call that voice. That celebration of wedding and funeral bells, the cries of birth and grief, the joy of life and living. Good seeds from forest fires. Bones of archaic things that makes you wish you were there to witness.

— That was only a good thing.

— Winter is where you'll find those half-decayed corpses of animals that doesn't exist. Ivories from the first breath of a renewed life. A sacrifice to be made so that Festivities wouldn't raze Winter's heart to the ground.

— You must build a shrine. It doesn't quite matter where you'd put it as long as it important. The one who will hear your prayers will find you amusing, and think to entertain you.

— Festivities loves gifts, and even more so gifting them. He loves many things from wine to little bundles of dried up flowers, old liquor and the freshest of meat, old clothe stitched with tears and flesh and iron, bearing the weight of decades in it's hem. He loves them, and he will cherish them as much as he cherishes those who greets him.

— (He was cherished, too. Because those who were touched by death and tragedy were changed in a way that cannot ever be the same. They yearn for relief, pray and sing for it, and they sacrifice what needs to be sacrificed in order to achieve it. He was loved and he was heaven because all living things always loved to hope.)

— Festivities is a gentle wild thing and he will tear you apart the moment you forget who you are, but he will grieve for you for the way only gods could.

— Only go into the forest in the Spring and Summer, but not until the sun is drowned out by the beat of the void. There are things there that weren't always monsters, and have never been monsters or could've been monsters at all. As obsolete as the moon, as hazed as the rustling of pelts and the swish of ashen feathers.

— (Mabon loves Festivities. Samhain and Yule, too. Ostara and Litha spoil him, and Imbolc and Lugnasadh and Beltane kisses his hand. Festivities welcome them like a lover who cannot be loved.)

— If you find gifts on your windowsill, usually after dawn, be sure to return the favor and leave honeyed fruits at the edge of the meadows.

— They tell you you shouldn't give your name to the Faefolk, but you cannot change your name to the One Who Feasts. He already knew you from the moment you cried the first time, and every achievement that left you grinning.

— Festivities loves you like tragedy does to peace.

[existential-cryptid]

Traveller's Guide for The Hiking Trails

Make sure to bring a flashlight with you! The Sun will set within an hour of your arrival and it can be dangerous at night. Do not think that anything will protect you from the natural wildlife. They know you're coming.

Follow the trail, it will not betray you. The trees here are trained to decieve you. They know this is the only way to ensure their safety.

Try not to step in the fairy rings, you do not want to announce your presence.

Do not look at the water. Do not get close to the water. Do not listen to its call. Before you notice, you will have become part of the forest and there will be no turning back. Do not look at the water.

The call in the distance was just a wolf, I'm sure.

Keep your eyes on the trail ahead of you. Keep a steady pace, this will deter the roots from embedding into your ankles. You don't want to meet their guardian.

Breathe deeply, the air here is old. Primal. It is good for you.

When you smell the smoke, it is time to turn back. Get too close and they will find you. Their kind don't take well to trespassers.

Bring a compass, the stars dare not shine over this place. You'll need it to get home.

If the darkness begins to thicken and become heavy, you would do best to run. You're being followed, and not even your flashlight will be able to penatrate those shadows. Try dropping your jacket as a distraction.

Do not fall. Remember 600,000 people "disappear" in the woods each year.

[sword-in-the-sea]

i haven't been able to meet the sun, but let me tell you of him;

deconstruct everything else and he's the complexity of human in one man. the one who waited. he's mundane but he knew something. he knew that he knew something. something happened during the radio silent. the wind whispered his name, once, but i haven't been able to listen to the foreign wind well. the sun kind to him. soft kisses and forgiving hands with the strength to burn dry grass. he is someone who'd i lay my sword to. eye to eye, strength in hand. i'd know him. i felt like i'd know him—if i wasn't so confined with being human.

(it was sort of like; us looking at each other from a distance knowing wholeheartedly if the world burns, we would both try to save it together)

i haven't been able to meet the sun, yet.

[allamericanliminalroadtrip]

Its a once-in-a-century blizzard, again. You wonder how the weather man can maintain such an urgent tone after saying the very same things but a week before. You are advised not to leave your home. The stores always hold the strangest people when the snow falls hard. You are advised not to leave your home. You've never looked one in the eye, it seems trying to only makes them fade further. You are advised not to leave your home. You are advised not to leave your home

[thisworldisstrangerthanyouknow]

there is comfort found in the arms of the unknown

the shadows will welcome you home

[lustrousnihility]

i want to fucking run away in the woods and never return, i want to turn feral and forget i ever had a past. i want to be unconscious and stop being human forever, i want to be a Monster

[crashingandburning]

you are burning and the fire started within you

the smoke is curling up and out of your mouth

your eyes have glazed over

you are radiating heat

you are waiting for end

waiting for the burnout