<h1>S'very INTERESTING!</H1>

Sexy Betsy (aka SexScenes@Starbucks!) was offering "twarots" on Twitter yesterday, so I asked her to hit me (in the way of writing, that is).

Here's what the cards and she came back with (verbatim):

First card, past: King of Pentacles.



Rev.. Pentacles is a money card, the King is a practical guy, maybe to the point of being a miser. Reversed, as we see here, probably means someone was ignoring that conservative sense to the point of destruction. This is a can't see the forest for the trees kind of card. The art is complicated and wild, and reversed, tough to make out. It could be you, but more likely it's your creative urges complicating your life.

Second card, two of cups.



Present. Second time I've seen this card today, both times reversed. I might have some weird energy influencing this. At face value, this card means romantic love, so reversed it means lost love, or just "missed" love. it could mean friendship, as well. You're not seeing someone who could be of great importance. This is about blocked coexistence or when two people should be working together but something is keeping them apart. Writing related, I'd see maybe you're missing an opportunity to learn from someone important.

Third card, future--Strength.



It's a woman quieting and controlling a lion. There's a chance to overdo, to give in to impulse rather than controlling your creativity. As for writing: I think this means to master your craft and find your focus.

Hope this helps
Bets

And so there that is....kinda funny, cause it's what I've been wrestling with fer sure. Here's a chapter I've been working on that will only second the notion:


The Birth of Mysogyny


She lays frigid with the flat of steele encrusted into her rib cage. Gyn cried out to Nothing, yet the Nothingness answered in reply.


Silence whips through her spaghetti thin hair, roaring horribly that thin ragged whisper of possession, and in this, Gyn dies.


Her delicate body lay bloodless and naked on the Earthen floor, infantile hands tucked morbidly underneath. Breasts smaller than a sparrow’s head, and lips as blue as a robin’s egg, they no longer spoke the words of a virgin child. Cold and facetless, like diamonds in the rough, her eyes were now free of that once invigorating luster that should have possessed a 9 year old’s eyes.


Not a soul knew that she had done thus unto herself. Not a soul knew Gyn had slid the razor of Azura’s blade into her own ribcage, ending her life as an inhabitant of this realm.

And not a soul would EVER know why. Only They. And THEY had no soul.

THEY hath been summoned. The 9 Brothers of Revelation. Their destinies held forfeit, THEY were not of this Earth. No hearts to tell them to stop when Gyn bled from places a child should never have to bleed. No mind to comprehend the pleading prayers a child should not have EVER had to utter. Bereft of this realm’s sensibilities, They sought out to do the will of one only, and like Robots, THEY obeyed, following this path called Destiny.

"For THEY knew she so loved the realm, that one had given her only begotten daughter".

Not only with Knife Hands did THEY stab, but with pulsating members THEY spoke, eternally intruding and invading Gyn’s many entryways. THEY persisted and prodded until Gyn’s Portent was unveiled.

But the Portent only burrowed further and further within her, until she transitioned into the Portent Itself.

Rebirthed in this blasphemic attempte, Mysogyny is borne. Bred by Blackened Brigande, who rob souls for sporte, she was borne to the will of Hate and Disdaine.

And so it had been written:

"The curve of your back, the flow of your estrogen, your incessant will to be ever accepted; all cast off in a Hell Bent fury to let it burne under the Scorching Sun."

Bedraggled and heavy laden, Mysogyny steps out of Gyn’s vernal corpse, kicking it aside as though it were a nuisanced and hungry alley cat.

She clothes herself immediately with Asteroth’s Trenchcoat, feeling the dire need to cover her nakedness and self hatred.

His blood was still drenched upon the coat. His blood reeked of Gyn’s innocence. His blood was to serve as Restitute.

She drank of him heavily, knowing she would need nothing more in Eternity’s realm to quench her blasphemous thirst. With an expert hand that Mysogyny could not quite understand of herself, she unbuckled Asteroth’s belt, peeling his jeans from his blood caked legs.

-They would HAVE to do for now.

Though Asteroth upheld the facade that he was a Promoter of Peace, Mysogyny had knowledge of his formidable weaponry. Images of Gyn, Asteroth, and a 9mm being placed in holes a 9mm shouldn’t have belonged began to flit through Mysogyny’s head, like Teletubbies dancing on PBS.

"FUCK. YOU." Mysogyny seethed through clenched teeth.

Other parts of Mysogyny danced, hurtedly, tickledly, sickenly, and she hunted the closet feverishly, looking for the Key of Asteroth. Hurriedly she fished it from the deep of his pockets, finding the Robe he would wear on occasion, nestled far into the chasms of this supposed closet.

Feeling as though she were in some twisted Narnia, Mysogyny half expected to see Mr. Tumnus scamper along the walls of the closet, inviting her into the same Tom Foolery Gyn was so accustomed to be a victim of.

"Not today motherfucker", replied Mysogyny wryly. "Not. Today".

She smiled the smile of broken glass and fallen empires, clasping hand over cold metallic grip, finding EXACTLY what she came for.

The dancing never ceased in those wicked places that we all like to call ‘private’.

Mysogyny cocked the hammer, squeezed the trigger, and let the bullets spring forth unto those 'wicked' places, cackling triumphantly.

And so there THAT is. Just for clarification, Bets says she uses a Rider Deck, not the Hello Kitty one, I just thought I'd throw that in there fer the sheer fun of it all......