horse and horseshoe

Meet May! (W) 6-30-17

May is a bay mare unicorn with black stockings and a white blaze on her face. She stands about 5'6″ at the shoulder and has very soft brown eyes. Her horn was broken in an accident some 20 or so years ago but there’s still about 5-6 inches of it left attached to her forehead.

May came to me almost immediately when I was asking for new spirits to become companions for humans because she’s getting on in years (about the equivalent of 70-ish years old in human time) and is looking for a quiet place to settle down. She told me she had been living with a herd of horses in the astral because she felt embarrassed that her horn was broken, so she used her power for a glamour to make herself look like an ordinary horse.

Because of her horn breaking she can’t do a lot of magic, but she can still do basic glamours, warding/protection, and minor healing magic. She’s given me permission to tell her companion how her horn broke, but has asked that it not go on her public profile.

Aside from the story about her horn, May has so many stories about her travels with her original unicorn herd as well as the horse herd she joined after the loss of her horn. She has such a soft and mellow voice that it’s hard not to want to curl up and fall asleep while she’s talking! She also had 3 foals in her lifetime, all of whom were males who are now grown and part of their own herds in the astral. She doesn’t visit them because she knows they have their own lives (and because she can’t keep up with their herds anymore), but occasionally they will stop by to say hello and make sure May is doing well!

May is one of the most kind and gentle spirits I’ve met in my time in working with spirits. She has a very calming and maternal presence that she and I think would be beneficial to someone who’s new to spirit work. May has no plans to return to or spend much time in the astral, preferring to live a quieter life with her companion. Knowing this, she’s very well-suited to someone who is new to spirit work or magic in general!

May would prefer a home in a quiet neighborhood, but she doesn’t mind cities as long as she can have a space of peace and quiet where she can nap (preferably in the sunshine; she’s kind of like a cat in that way!). On the subject of pets, May is very fond of cats, whether physical or astral, but other pets are alright as long as they’re not very noisy.

As far as offerings, May would like them occasionally as she’ll be spending most of her time in the physical realm with her companion. Granny smith apples are her all-time favorite, but if those aren’t available she loves all apples or carrots! She also likes horse or unicorn-related items (horseshoes, small horse/unicorn figurines, etc.) as well as soft comfort items like blankets, pillows, or stuffed animals. Physical items aside, May would also like to just relax and share stories or take naps with her companion as a devotional activity.

She’d be best-suited to someone who could just use a kind maternal figure in their life or just someone who likes napping and telling stories! (can you tell that naps are May’s favorite activity yet?)

If you are interested in this spirit, please fill out the submit form and I will let you know if you have been chosen or not!
Please remember to supply the vessel to bind your spirit to!
If you have any questions refer to either my info, shop info, or my ask box!
Thank you!!  

anonymous asked:

after the curse is broken, another curse is set in place. as punishment for the villagers being so cruel to belle, they are all turned into inanimate objects, and the castle forgets about them and continues on with their lives. in order for the spell to be broken, someone from the castle must wander into the village, stay, and truly forgive them all for whatever secret and dark past they may have. -☁️

oh wow that’s fucking weird. also the Perfect excuse to write the Fucking Trash Fic starring the V I L L A G E R S  i’ve been wanting to do

“Did I have a papa, once?” Chip asks his mum. He’s not sure why, but playing with his little toy donkey—carved from wood, with little wheels for legs—has stirred something in him.

“All little boys have papas,” says Mrs. Potts absently. She is busy drying the dishes, and doesn’t look up from her saucers and plates. “Why would you think of that now?”

Chip tries to string the words together. Something like where is he now, then? Or who is he? Or why don’t we talk about him? Is he dead?

He can’t think of any of the words. His eyes go back to the donkey, and he forgets what he was asking.

Jean Potts is not dead. But sometimes, he feels he might as well be.

There is something about being a plate that feels particularly humiliating. The fact that his lovely porcelain border is striped in the same way his old hat was does nothing to diminish the embarrassment.

He didn’t even like that hat, that much. But now it’s all he is: a white plate with a striped border, and painted eyes and mouth, and nothing else besides. He wish he had thought to bring a change of clothes before encountering the old hag from the mountains.

Agathe hadn’t turned him into a plate. This curse was done by someone else entirely: a hag with corkscrew, blue-streaked hair, and a cranky nose, and a spitfire temper that doomed them all. They didn’t know her name. Just that she was malicious, and had curses to burn.

“If I had known she was like this,” argued Clothilde, newly a fishhook, “we could have bought her jam, or sommat.”

“I don’t think jam was what she wanted,” said Jean. 

The curse had been swift and brutal and ironic in its care to detail. Everyone knew what it was for: to tell them, in no uncertain terms, that Mobs Are Bad, and Hating People You Barely Know Is Bad, and Falling In Line With Tyrants Is Bad, and Being Stupid Is Bad. (the hag had really gone on quite a while before she actually cast the curse.) It was a taste of their own medicine, for acting like tools in the hands of a crazed, angry man.

That didn’t help assuage the feelings of plate, though.

Some had it worse. Alléchant Agriculteur, the local supplier of eggs, couldn’t complain at all; nobody had ever seen such an unbelievably attractive hen coop in their lives. But Forgeron Rouge, the blacksmith so beloved for his bright red cap and helpful manner, had turned into an anvil. He couldn’t move. The horses—now all just horseshoes, poor creatures—whinnied around him pitifully, and all he could do was clang in response.

The hatstands in the window tittered and sighed. They still wanted to be pretty, and here they were, with big bonnets as always, but no pretty black hair to make it worth while. They wondered if Chapeau, their brother, might find them. They wondered if Chapeau still remembered them.

He didn’t.

Sometimes—given to subtle turns of thought, as he was—Chapeau wondered how the castle was meant to survive, in a forest with no villages around. Surely that affected the local economy? Where was Cuisinier meant to buy his eggs and bread, with no farms around to supply it? Given that, where did the servants come from? They couldn’t all come straight from Paris, like Lumiere and Plumette. There had to be some village boys, with pretty mothers—milliners maybe—who could come up to the palace to find work. He had to give it some thought. There was a riddle here he needed to remember.

He didn’t. He forgot.

It was odd, at nights, when some told stories of their families. Mrs. Potts talked about her mother at length—the weaver-woman from Yorkshire, who she hadn’t seen for so long, ever since she left the country and came here. Lumiere, if pressed, will laugh and mock his father, the old man in Paris who wears spectacles and worn brown vests and who he loves so much, so complicatedly, so completely. Even Belle remembers a little of her mother, even though she died so far away.

But nobody seems to come from around the palace. There are no village boys.

Keep reading

Italian Horseshoe Charm

[foto taken in Pontito, Toscana, Italia]

Along with the rest of Europe, Italian folklore uses the horseshoe nailed to the front of buildings (usually houses or barns) to ward off witchcraft, the evil eye, and bad luck. Here’s a spoken charm used after all of the rooms have been blessed and the horseshoe is nailed to/by the door:

“Oh ferro di quadrupede, tu che sei
Tanto forte, d'ogni nemico guardami.
Scaccialo e dagli morte, distruggila,
distruggila questa genia d'arpia,
con la tua forza magica,
guarda la casa mia.“

Welcome to the Centuary Rescue

Hello everyone, and welcome to the Centuary Rescue.

{All characters created by Fia a.k.a hubedihubbe}

This here piece of work, is an introduction and brief description of each character that has been lovingly created and developed by the lovely Fia. It will kind of tell you of their relationships with each other and where they fit in at the farm.

{In other words I’m totally bored and this is entertaining for me}

Okay, enjoy!

Keep reading


White ankle boots with brown horse hooves and “TrottersGrip” horseshoe made of durable hard rubber. These are made in EU shoe size 43 and they look really good even with the BIIIG draft horse hooves on them. So if somewhere in the UK the ground starts shaking…

As always they are available in my ETSY shop… on commission!
( Shop is closed until end of January 2016 because my order book is full to bursting! Sorry… )

The Secret of Shadow Ranch [x]

One story in the series I’ve always found myself drawn to is The Secret of Shadow Ranch. I simply love the mystery itself, but also the way the backstory of Frances and Dirk is masterfully woven into the game and the puzzles. In my opinion, it’s a truly classic game. To create a look inspired by that game, pair a tribal print tank with a brown cardigan, cream jeans, a pearl headband, a bow belt, a satchel bag, and huarache sandals. Arrowhead earrings, a heart necklace, a floral bracelet, a tribal cuff, a horse hoof ring, and a horseshoe ring complete the look.