#transition between winter and spring

[whatnext10]

The Wonderful Aspects of Winter and Spring are All Here

Winter and Spring Here in central Florida we are in a period of flux between winter and spring. Some early phlox flowers are starting to appear on the roadsides, and the gorgeous redbud trees are starting to put out their first little buds. Most days (the last two have been cooler than normal thanks to the parade of winter storms) are warming up, but evenings and nights are still pretty cool. In…

[anneowl2803]

It’s February

The almond trees are ✨flowering✨

[plushpyromoved]

OUGH =_= what if i wanted to draw but my body said hayfever?

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

I love you spring!

I love you, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin for the first time in many months. I love you, cloudy skies with bright blue peeking through. I love you, dry roads. I love you, greenfinch and chaffinch songs I haven't heard since summer. I love you, meltwater flowing down the road forming intricate patterns. I love you, sugary doughnuts and churros. I love you, stepping on the ice crusts on the sides of the road and hearing the satisfying crunch. I love you, airplane contrails through the empty blue sky. I love you, overflowing streams full of life and vigour. I love you, cycling season! I love you, homemade sima. I love you, redwings and black-headed gulls. I love you, waking up early in the morning to find my room bathed in yellow light. I love you, catkins in the willows. I love you, crunchy gravel under my shoes. I love you, afternoon walks with the family while the sky is light and the grass is ever so slightly greener. I love you, clean streets free from gravel. I love you, pheasant cocks looking for new ground. I love you, sunsets stretching out late into the afternoon, then to the early evening, then to the late evening. I love you, light drizzles and heavy rains. I love you, realising that the weather is warm enough so I can grab my leather jacket and leave home in a t-shirt for the first time in months. I love you, frogspawn in the stream and ditches. I love you, swans and geese and cranes flying overhead. I love you, coy snowflakes making way to the ground as a last goodbye from the months gone by. I love you, ever-increasing outdoor parties, treasure hunts, and formal occasions. I love you, watching as the lake ice slowly thins out, the shore ice melting first, open water slowly taking area from the ice slushy before it’s all there is. I love you, awaking butterflies and spiders and neuropterans and bumblebees and nematocerans and beetles. I love you, explosion of green plants and new leaves in the trees the moment the last snow melts. I love you, pink and orange tulips and purple crocuses in the garden. I love you even more, dandelions!! I love you, nightingale song in the night. I love you, picnics with friends, on the hill where the pine trees' shadows and sunlight dance around through the afternoon or the grassy field, and it's so nice and warm, and you can just lay down on the blanket and close your eyes and listen.

I never did appreciate you enough. But now I hopefully do! I love you, spring!

I love you winter!

I love you, first snowfall of the season. I love you, powdery snow and frozen grass in the mornings. I love you, pink and purple sunsets. I love you, heavy snowfall. I love you, waking up in the morning to find a thick blanket of untouched white snow. I love you, skiing trips through the woods. I love you, hot berry juice. I love you, making running steps through the untouched snow to see how far you can leap. I love you, frost and snow in the tree branches making everything look glistening and perfect. I love you, grey cloudy days when everything looks monochrome except for the red trunks of the pines. I love you, downhill skiing. I love you, trying out new routes and tricks while downhill skiing and getting out of my comfort zone! I love you, hot chocolate and whipped cream. I love you, great tits and magpies flying about looking for food. I love you, clear days when the sky is blue and you remember how beautiful it really is. I love you, heavy snowfall illuminated by the street lamps at night. I love you, walking on the sea ice and lake ice and accessing places I never could before. I love you, glögi. I love you, snowflakes and inspecting your patterns. I love you, steaming hot saunas. I love you, ice swimming, even though you also frighten me! I love you, fairy lights in the trees. I love you, wind-carved waves and shapes in the snow. I love you, blue hour. I love you, warm blankets. I love you, tiny black streams still staying unfrozen and moving. I love you, icicles and other beautiful ice formations. I love you, crown snow-load and thick snow covering the trees. I love you, northern lights. I love you, fireplaces. I love you, waking up in the middle of the night in your warm bed, finding the house completely quiet as you walk through the hall, and upon looking out the window, all you can see is the calm snow slowly making its way to the ground, illuminated by the colourful fairy lights and the orange street lights. And you get this magical feeling inside of you, that you’re so warm, and calm, and perfectly safe and sound in this very moment. And you feel like you could stand there forever and just… take it all in.

I love you winter!

[ruinix]

Can you please write a smut story of Quinn Hughes and Y/n in a pool?

Hello, my lovely. I took so long again. My bad. Do you remember Quinn’s photo in the hot tub (one of those he posted)? Yes? No? (I attached a photo at the end of this drabble) Safe to say, i wanted to join him when he put it out. He is just so cute. It's nearly 3AM...so no proofread. sorry. Also I wrote this with midseason in my head and I forgot that it could be winter (or fall?)…let’s ignore that plot hole. I beg. Please. Let's just think is a heated pool. (I keep forgetting about seasons and I am so used to private hot spring pools, my bad. sorry).

Fairylights and Wildflowers

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, (mention of) Exploration of Hobbies (shopping, crocheting, puzzles), lots of Kisses, Semi-Public sex / Pool sex (it's a private pool in a rented airbnb...but it's outside so...🫣), Unprotected sex (use protection, lovelies)

Count: 3737 words | Masterlist | Taglist

You’re taking long. Quinn learned not to bother you when you’re preparing—or whatever it is you’re doing now when you insist on surprising him—a long time ago. Who is he to deny what you want? If you want him to wait in the damn pool by himself until he’s a prune, he’ll do it.

Although, maybe, he thinks that you’re going to surprise him with a bikini. He wonders what bikini you’ll wear. He tries to keep up with your online purchases. It’s easy to track over because you ramble about them over dinner, over calls, over texts, over anything. You like your “retail therapy”—that’s what you called it. Not just bikinis. You buy a lot of things you come across. Honestly, it’s so cute.

One time, you decided to learn how to crochet, so you bought several balls of yarns and crocheting needles. Your first fruit of labor is a misshapen bear. The ears are lopsided. One arm is more stuffed than the other. The eyes are currently mismatched, because one of its eyes fell and got lost, so you replaced it with a different button. Still, it’s a bear. A unique looking one. You love it so much and so do Quinn. When you jokingly said it is now your and Quinn’s first child, he was quick to buy it a small Canucks jersey and hat that is definitely too big, so now it rests on your bookshelf, sitting inside the upside-down hat, right next to your favorite books.

Quinn always finds himself staring at it while he dusts your books. It has grown on him. A clumsy start of a hobby, for sure, but an amazing memory. Since then, you’ve made a couple more stuffed animals then you transitioned to blankets, scarves, and sweaters. While you insist you are still a beginner with the hobby, Quinn views you as an expert, especially when you kept giving him cozy items. They are all so perfect in his eyes.

You’ve inspired him to try to make his own, but his hands cramp up. He always ends up sulking in his armchair, gripping his yarn and needle so tightly, watching you do your own project or read your books. After minutes, you’ll notice him then you’ll be on him, holding his cheeks after you take away his basket of yarns and needle, kissing him to distract him further. What a distraction. It works every single time. So, whenever you pick up your basket of yarns, he will too, patiently waiting—sulking or not—for kisses and more.

Another time, you went all out with puzzles. Some of your game nights with Quinn turned into completing said puzzles. Quinn ends up dozing off after he takes a brief break, for the sake of his aching back, on the couch. He will wake up with you in his arms, blankets over both of you. Every time he just watches you sleep, cursing whenever he can’t reach his phone to kill his alarm, trying his best to close his hands over your ears, but you’ll also wake up, rubbing your face into his chest.

Every time, you’ll greet him, not hiding your greedy inhales of his scent, your hand running down between you two, down over his aching cock.

That’s how you get him.

Fuck morning skates. Fuck meetings. Fuck anything else.

He’ll spend his morning buried deep inside you until you demand breakfast.

Beyond those tiny hobbies, you’ve also been rampant at buying clothes. From pajamas to everyday dresses to evening gowns. You’ve braved several sites. Your experiences are either a hit or a miss. Quinn knows what it’ll be. If you like it, you’ll show it to him. If you don’t, you’ll be huffing as you process a refund. He’ll try to be understanding and mature, but the way you huff and puff makes him laugh.

“Stop laughing!” You are on him, lecturing him about not laughing at you. “Quinn!”

Your whines only push him to laugh harder, teasing you that he wants to see the dress, poking his finger on your tickle points, grinning widely when you squeal and run away. He’ll be hot on your heels, needing to get your mind off your failed purchase, because he rather has you irritated with him than sulking over things. Just for those times, he won’t be talking about how any piece of clothing you put on will take his breath away, because he knows it won’t help with the dilemma.

Now, after he reminisces your online purchases, he settles on the submerged sitting area.

He runs his hand over his face, shaking his head slightly, splashing water everywhere. No one will care about the splatter. It’s a pool. You will care though. You won’t police him into not doing so, no. You will be delighted. You will be amused. You will shake your own head, laughing in your silent amusement, then you will splash him with an expert swipe over the water. It’s fucking amazing.

You’re amazing.

Of course, you are. You planned this little getaway so quickly after you heard that his maintenance day follows a weekend where he doesn’t have any scheduled game or plans. It will be just the two of you. That thought excited him. He didn’t even think of inviting anyone for this getaway. In fact, he never even thought of anyone else joining the two of you. Except for now. What if you invited someone? Well, shit. If you do, then…whatever. There’s lots of room in this place anyway. He’ll make it work.

He looks up to see a glimpse of you from a window. You’re wearing a white fluffy robe. From what he can see, you are skipping. You must be having so much fun. You can be so animatic, so adorable, so excited. He still remembers how your eyes shone when you told him about your successful booking over videocall, smiling so widely as you typed in the address he should drive to, jumping when you greeted him as he arrived. He likes that. He likes seeing you having a ton of fun with your own spending. He loves being spoiled right back.

Although, he wishes that you’ll finally come down.

He’s getting bored.

A little bit.

No.

He’s extremely bored.

He’s already done several laps. He wants to see you now. He misses you when you’re just there. Sighing, he stretches his arms over the edge, half-slouching further on the sitting edge, half-floating. He takes his time, embracing the silence of the night,

He hopes that you didn’t invite anyone else. It’s already getting late. If you had guests, they would’ve been over by now. However, he also knows your friends. Some of them are always so down to last minute hangouts. Tonight, he hopes they’re not. 

Or whomever you invited.

Can’t he just have you to himself?

He’s not really up for socializing this weekend. Can he just be alone with—

“Hi, Quinn,” you greet, suddenly there, leaning over so your face will be in his line of sight. “Having a good time?”

For someone who has gotten impatient, Quinn finds himself unable to speak as he looks up at you, absently nodding and watching your smile widen. He really can’t speak. He almost forgets to breathe. Because the fairy lights are casting a soft glow around your head, perfectly illuminating the strands of your hair that you’ve styled, shining on the pretty skin on your shoulders, your waist, your hips, your legs, and everywhere else. Like every bit of your being is touched by the heavens.

Like you’re a star that’s gazing and twinkling just for him.

You take his breath away.

How can someone be so beautiful? So majestic?  

“Did it hurt?” He asks before he can stop himself.

“Hurt?” you echo, frowning before lowering yourself to sit next to him, dipping your legs into the pool.

Quinn follows every movement of your legs, how the water parts and waves over them. The light and shadow patterns look wonderful on your skin as waves move, refracting every light that hits its surface. It looks wondrous. He glances at his own, not liking how the patterns look on him. He likes it better on you.

Before he gets trap in his head, his cheeks burning white-hot, he finishes, “When you fell from the sky.”

Your grin widens, your eyes crinkling at the sides. A giggle escapes you. “Is that a pickup line, Quinny?”

He looks away. He brushes his hand over his face then up through his hair to push away the wet strands away from his burning face. He nearly chokes as he says, “Yeah. Kinda.”

“I like it.” Your voice sounds closer, so he turns and immediately receives a kiss, making his heart tumble all over the place. “Thank you. I appreciate it. Don’t be embarrassed.”

He nods, reaching to touch your leg, his thumb softly making circles on your calf, adding pressure to massage your muscles. You let him do it, fully facing him, offering him your other leg too. He takes it with his other hand. He’s focused on nothing but the task on hand. That is, until you raise your feet up, your toes wiggle, so he notices your painted toenails.

“You like ‘em?” you ask, biting your lip. “I got them to match my nails.”

Quinn slowly tracks his eyes up your legs, over your thighs, over your tummy, your shoulders, your neck, your face. He inhales and catches the soft powdery and flowery scent of your lotion and body oil. You smell divine. Then he looks at your delicate hands, at your nails that are painted a shade of pink, that compliments your skin tone, with white tips. While your toenails only have those, you have small flowers on your nails and dainty gemstones for their centers.

His heart beats harder as his need to kiss you arises. So, he does. He kisses every decorated nail, his hands holding yours tenderly like he’s afraid that you’ll pull away even when he knows you won’t. He can’t help it when you look like a fairy that may vanish in the blink of his eyes. He can’t afford to lose you. Never. With every kiss on your every nail, on every knuckle, on each of the backs of your hands, he breathes his desperation to keep you.

Can you feel it?

He overturns your hands, kissing your palms. One by one. Even softer yet firmer, his lips pressing down. Despite wanting to taste your skin, he doesn’t. It can wait. He needs you to feel his love. His affection towards you.

He gazes up, meeting your eyes. He holds your hands, his thumbs soothingly rubbing over your palm. He realizes that you are wearing the swimsuit he bought you months ago. It’s simple. A white triangle bikini top and its matching bottom. The white strings in bows look beautiful on your nape and your hips. You’re finally wearing it. It looks so fucking good on you.

If this is your surprise bikini, he’s delighted. Very much so.

“I love everything,” he gulps the lump in his throat, gazing up your eyes like you hung the moon and stars and everything else above, because he bets that you did. Maybe you are a goddess who became human or is pretending to be human. Maybe that’s the reason why you look ethereal. “I love you.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks, leaning back as if you need distance from him. “You’re doing it again.” You almost take your hands away from him, but he holds them firmly.

“Don’t pull away,” he murmurs, coming closer. “What exactly am I doing?” He wraps his arm around your waist. Instead of pulling you which would hurt because of the pebble details, he moves—crossing the little distance between you two—until your lips are mere inches away from his. “My Love,” he urges, repeating, “What am I doing?”

“Looking at me with those eyes, like,” you pause, gulping as you look into his eyes, “like…like you want to consume me.”

Because he does.

He wants everything that you’ll give him.

Everything that is you.

You are everything.

He has never loved someone as deeply as he loves you. You’re it. His forever.

“Do you want me to stop?” His other hand finds your neck, his fingers running through the softness of your hair near your nape, his thumb brushing the line of your jaw.

“No,” you whisper, your eyes dropping to his lips. You inhale, licking your lips as anticipation buzzes the air.  “Never.” Your hands graze over his chest, tracing over his collarbone. “I love you too, Quinn.”

He kisses you like his life depended on it, because it is. Ever since he met you. His love only grows and grows, blossoming like wildflowers of mixed variety. They litter the grass as they dance with the wind, flourishing with every drop of rain, every ray of the sun, every nutrient drawn from the soil. Resilient and thriving. He truly loves you. Every piece of him is devoted to you.

He kisses you harder, letting you feel how deep his love has rooted in his soul. His tongue glides with yours. He can taste the mint of your toothpaste and the sweetness of the fruits you were munching on while you’re getting ready. Berries. Apples. So much apples. He deepens the kiss to taste more of it, savoring how wonderful it mixes with you.

“Oh, Quinn,” you murmur into his lips, mounting his lap, the water sloshing against your bodies.

He also whispers your name. It spilled out of him like a prayer. He kisses you deeper, hungrier, thirstier. He holds you tighter, his fingers firmly pressing into your skin, keeping you to him. He fears if he lets go, you will go away even when your hands slide through his hair, tugging and angling his head. Quinn follows, not stopping the kiss, focusing on how your lips feel against his, your tongue against his, your pussy against his dick despite the existence of your bikini and his trunks.

“Tell me something.” He draws his kisses to your jaw, smelling the scent of your perfume you sprayed behind your ear. “Are we expecting guests?”

“Just us,” you pant, grinding against him. Your actions still, your eyebrows meeting. “Do you want guests?”

“No. Just want you all to myself right now, my Love.” He grips your hips, urging you to move again, groaning when you do. “I was just thinking how I’ll steal you away.” He smirks when you giggle, the sudden worry that you felt falls away. “You’ll like that, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” you say, your tone light, your fingers scratching over his beard. He can see the mischief shining from your eyes. “I love it when we sneak, but I made sure it’s just us.”

“Thank you,” he gasps as you grind down on him. “Oh, my Love. We should go—”

“No,” you cut him off, tilting his chin up, your lips grazing over, making him chase you. “We can do it here.”

Whatever you want.

Your lips are once again touching. Now, he swallows the moan you let out while you swallow his—each of you spurring each other on with the noises that escape you two—as pleasure seeps down his bones, right from his cock. His skin rises with goosebumps, shivers running down while also up his fucking spine. He’s utterly gone and he’s not even inside of you yet. This is what you do to him.

And he loves that.

His hand snakes over your lower back, pressing down to glue your midsection to him. Then while you nip his lower lip, he curves his hand over your ass, squeezing your flesh, making you bite down on his lip harder that he swears your broke skin. You are so close. He sees how your pupils swallow your irises. How your eyelashes fan down with your blinks. How your brows curve upwards and furrowing together. His eyes are getting drawn to the beaty marks you have on your face. All while his fingers slip into your bottoms, sliding between your ass, down to your pussy, feeling your arousal.

“Quinn,” you whine. You bury your face on his neck.

“Someone’s getting needy,” he teases. His finger sinks into your quivering pussy. He adds another. He licks his lip, not tasting any copper which means you didn’t break skin. It disappoints him a little, but that’s not important, because your pussy squeezes around his fingers. It feels fucking amazing. “Is it here, my Love?” He prods the spongy spot that has you squirming.

“Yes,” you sob. You keep grinding down against his cock, up and down, putting pressure against your sensitive clit. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“Have I ever stopped?” He asks, fucking you with his fingers. You shake your head, desperately meeting his every thrust. “Look at me.” You did, panting with your cheeks bright red. His other hand comes up, undoing the ribbon of your top. Your tits spill out. Your nipples are hard and begging to be touched, so he does, softly feeling and pinching the pebbled peak. “How are you so pretty?”

You don’t answer him. Instead, your hand slides down between your bodies, pushing down his trunks. Your teeth clench down on your lip.

Quinn pulls your bottoms to the side, just in time for you to lift your hips. His cock hits your pussy so perfectly. He helps you move down his length. Inch by inch. Both of you moan and are getting so overwhelmed by the feel of each other. Your hands hold his shoulders, sinking those pretty nails into his skin, while his hands hold your hips so tightly that he might leave fingerprint bruises later.

He wants that. He wants to leave his marks on your body, but he craves yours on his. He loves when you leave scratches down his back or just on his shoulder, which you are now fucking doing. Those pretty fucking claws. He curses from the sting, from the excessive need for more, more, and more.

“Harder,” he grits. His hand finds your hair, tugging to crane your neck, so he can kiss and suck your skin, leaving his own bruising marks. “Mark me up, my Love.”

“Oh, fuck, Quinn.” You whine your hips as you sink down cock. Again and again. You whine, whispering his name like it’s a plea, “Quinn. Quinn. Quinn.”

Quinn starts to meet your thrusts, feeling himself touch deeper inside your pussy. The slight tremble of your walls tells him you are close. So close. He is too. His cock aches, needing to release right fucking now, but he holds himself back because he needs to feel you come first. He needs it.

He continues teasing over your nipples, his thumb running on the line of the underside of your tits. Desperately, he nips on your earlobes, sloppily licking his way down to your collarbone to mark everything he can reach. Your movements turn sloppier, your back arching, your moans turning into eager whimpers.

“Let go, my Love. I got you.” Quinn kisses your lips, just enough, pulling away to hear your sounds then kissing you back again. He’s almost playing, teasing, taunting you, making you make more sounds that had his cock twitching in your pussy. “Just let go.”

You do. A breathy scream pours out of your lips, your pussy squeezing so tightly that he can’t hold back. He doesn’t want to hold back. Why would he want to? Your pussy is way too perfect not to fill with his hot cum. He holds your hips down as he spills deep, deep inside you. Panting, he kisses you fully, needing to taste you on his lips, needing to feel more connected with you.

Fuck, you feel so good. Your arms wrap around his torso. Your legs come around him, clinging onto him. You fit around him so perfectly. Like pieces of wood carved specifically to join without nails or screws. Just carved to perfection for a seamless joinery.

“Wow,” you sigh, resting your forehead against his. “This is so nice.”

Quinn hums, savoring your feel. His head is slightly spinning. He blinks slowly as he’s in a daze, marveling how you glow after sex, the fairly lights glinting on your skin. You can’t be real. You’re just so pretty. Incredibly so.

He moves after you when you part from him, mindlessly following you out of the pool, watching you fix your bikini, so he tugs his trunks on to fix it, inhaling sharply as it grazes his sensitive cock, gritting his teeth when it twitches at the mere sight of your ass. He should fucking stop or else he might die because he’s a horny fuck.

He quickly swipes his towel from the bench, helping you dry off, kneeling on one knee so he can dab water from your shins. He looks up, his heart booming against his ribs. He realizes how gorgeous you look from below. He already knows this, but the position is making him think about the future, about him holding a velvet box with a ring that he will have custom-made, about him asking for your hand. To be your forever. Your partner. A possibility for so much more.

The way you’re looking down at him tells him that he might not be the only one thinking about it.

Yet, he stands.

No matter how perfect the moment is. He won’t take this away from you. You’ve made this getaway happen. Your surprises still wait to be discovered even when the surprise of you wearing his chosen bikini for you is already more than enough. He knows you’ve done more. You’ve made this all happen for him. For him.

When he asks to be your husband, the day will be for you. Not him.

He will plan everything out. As perfect as he can. All for you. This can all wait.

For now, he’ll take everything you’ve prepared.

Besides, there is way too much room in this place. He needs to claim you on each surface, after he receives the gifts that have your eyes sparkling with mischief as you grab his hand and pull him towards the house, after he makes you dinner and more.

Here it is (from his post)

Silly boy in the hot tub, we must join him. Jk. (...unless???)

[batmanego]

personally a big fan of the transition between summer and fall ^_^.

in more news, ibrahim hit €15,000, but we still have a ways to go!

ibrahim @wolf-aid is (as many people following me know) a 15 year old boy trying to support himself and his family in gaza. recently he’s also lost several relatives and has fallen terribly ill. he needs our support now more than ever.

i’ve donated €15 recently — if anyone can match that, it would be great!

vetted here (#25).

[esoteric-chaos]

Spring Equinox Masterpost- Spoonie Witch Friendly

Art Credit: Anastasia Catris

The Spring Equinox, also called the Vernal Equinox or Ostara, is usually celebrated between the 21st of March in the Northern Hemisphere (In the Southern Hemisphere around September 20th or 21st)

In 2024, Ostara and the Spring Equinox land in the Northern Hemisphere on Monday, March 19th.

The Spring Equinox celebrates the arrival of spring. Celebrating balance, growth, and new beginnings as Winter has finally ended.

Spring Equinox Correspondances

Colours

Light Green

Lavender

Sunny Yellow

Light Blue

Pastel Pink

White

Herbal

Lemongrass

Daffodils

Tulips

Violets

Apple Tree

Cherry Blossom

Primrose

Birch tree

Hyacinths

Dandelion

Garlic

Ash tree

Jasmine

Edibles

Honey

Salad greens

Spring veggies

Fresh berries

Mead

Herbs

Eggs

Seeds

Bread

Edible flowers

Quiches

Custards

Maple

Animals

Hares

Baby Chicks

Snakes

Robins

Bees

Butterflies

Phoenix

Ram

Crystals

Fluorite

Moonstone

Silver

Aquamarine

Clear Quartz

Amazonite

Symbols

Bonfires

Flowers

Rabbits

Eggs

Seeds

Baskets

Flowering or Tree Buds

Lambs

Birds

Spiritual meanings

Purification

Cleansing (removal of stagnant energy)

Growth

Transition

Motivation

Balance

Birth

Good fortune

Kindness

Joy

Fertility

Scents

Coconut

Citrus

Floral scents (rose, lilac, jasmine, etc)

Herbal scents (rosemary, basil, mint, etc)

Gods / Goddesses / Spirits

Eostre –  (Anglo-Saxon)

Aphrodite - (Greek)

Gaia - (Celtic)

Gaea - (Greek)

Venus - (Roman)

Athena - (Greek)

Aurora - (Roman)

Eos - (Greek)

Isis – (Egyptian)

Freya - (Norse) 

Persephone - (greek)

Cybele - (Roman)

The Green Man - (Celtic)

Odin – (Norse) 

Osiris – (Egyptian)

Pan – (Greek)

Thoth – (Egyptian)

Adonis – (Greek)

Apollon –  (Greek)

Apollo - (Roman)

Need some suggestions to celebrate? I've got you covered.

High energy celebrations and ritual

Deep cleaning of the hearth and home

Nature hikes

Visiting farmers markets

Making preserves

Create a fae garden

Create a seasonal altar

Abundance/Prosperity ritual

New beginnings ritual

Low energy celebrations 

Wear pastels

Create flower crowns

Light a candle with scent correspondence

No spoon celebrations 

Opening a window

Journaling Prompts

Keeping hydrated

Drink floral tea

Rest

How you celebrate the holiday does not matter. You can choose to do any activity that feels right. These are only suggestions and remember that you're enough no matter what.

Also please note some stuff is UPG. A great book is Year of the Witch by Temperance Alden for honouring the celebrations and if you wanted to work more seasonally. It's not Wiccan-based and has plenty of resources for every witch.

Feel free to post how you celebrate in the comments or reblogs!

Want to see more of my posts? Check out my Wheel of the Year Masterpost or my Main Masterpost.

[midluuna]

Fairy COTL AU?!?!

LOOK!!! I've been thinking about this for a looooong time and I tried to ignore the worms in my brain because I am already trying to finish this other AU of mine (@redcrowncafe). Anyways, since the voices are getting louder I decided to let them FREE!!

THE PLOT?

Something something like Lambert and Goatfrey (lamb and goat) going to a small mountain town they used to go when they were little and in that city there is a forest where the two used to go and one day Lambert casually stumbles into a portal and ends up the fairies dimension, where they get get kidnapped and brought to the leaders of the four fairy realms (of course).

Leshy is the Fairy of Spring, Kallamar the Fairy of Summer, Heket of Autumn and Shamura of Winter (I know the colors of their outfits aren't really matching their seasons, I might relaborate them... or maybe not).

So, basically they want to keep Lambert forever but in a way or another they get contacted by Narinder, a snarky fairy who is willing to give them powers so that they can defeat blah blah blah the usual. So Lambert becomes half fairy, basically the magical girl logic except they are an adult. They don't really trust him because he's a fairy too, but they know they really have no choice and accept.

Narinder is the Fairy of Transition, basically his domain is all that is transitory: like the transition between a season to another, the dim darkness between night and day, the metamorphosis taking place inside a cocoon, the death between any reincarnation and so on!

I still don't know the reason why he was banished by the dimension, he probably did what he did because he felt like no one really cared about his domain or gave importance, but I know for sure that he can appear freely outside that dimension and change appearance as he please: he can look like a normal guy in his late 20s or a butterfly or an actual CAT (form he likes to change to when he wants to play some prank on the lamb).

Also Goatfrey will be a half fairy like them I guess.

Also of course Felix too (the yellow cat) is in the AU. She's a spring fairy and probably pollinates flowers or tell animals it's time to have babies I guess.

I already have so many headcanons and I want to draw/write something but I don't want to write a fanfiction or put so much effort like in the other AU, but I definitely want to draw some silly comic, doodle and maybe few chapters of unrelated events? idk Feel free to write in my ask inbox I guess!!

[lavenderchqn]

✧・| three cats in a trench coat — wriothesley

— wriothesley doesn't look like someone who'd own a kitten, much less three of them... so how did he even turn into a cat dad? let's just say, not everyone succeeds at fostering.

content warnings: reader referred to as [y/n]; wriothesley is so soft for the kittens I swear; all fluff no angst (but what's new with that here lmao)

[note.] — yes, it's wriothesley content central recently. got this idea because my kitty girl loves cuddles. let's benefit all.

If Wriothesley had ever asked around, people say he doesn’t look like a cat person. A dog, more specifically a large dog — be it a german shepherd or a dobermann’d suit him best. It’s something about his energy, they’d said. 

Considering everything, it’s not like he’d ever given the choice of owning an animal much thought. It’s all just small talk at mandatory office meetings, especially the moment you join the team. Becoming a pet owner was something more than just feeding and walking them. In his eyes, they’re more like family — children in this case. There’d need to be a lot of preparations made before even deciding on one… and the verbal agreement of his long-time partner. 

So how does Wriothesley come into caring for a litter of tiny fluffs? 

The transition between winter and spring is arguably one of Wriothesley’s unfavored ones. It’s raining far too often, there’s still some remains of mud mixed with snow all over the roads, and worst of all, his car, like clockwork, always needs repairs the second the season comes to an end. And, as it turns out, this time it’s pretty severe. The repair shop kept his vehicle for almost two weeks, unable to fix the issue. Sure, he could just drive his motorbike to work, yet at the same time he doesn’t feel comfortable. ‘Works against appearances’ he overheard once. It’s not like Wriothesley cares about having one, but it’s better to appear approachable than not.

And thus, he’s stuck. Forced to have a walk in the middle of one of the most severe rainfalls since the start of the year. With the umbrella he was graciously reminded of by his partner — praise their magnificence for remembering — he’ll manage. Armed with his earphones blasting the world’s finest jazz, nothing is holding him back from making it home dry. 

It’s when he’s right next to your apartment complex, that everything goes sideways. His right earphone just died, ruining the nice ambience, and the rain began pouring even harder. He could use a steaming cup of tea, the second he’s back. That’ll cure all his problems. And then, a tiny sound enters his plain of thought. 

Wriothesley takes a look around, trying to find the source of whatever just squeaked. He’s sure he’s not tired enough to hallucinate noises, nor does he consider himself insane enough to justify those appearing randomly. Sure enough, his eyes wander over to a cardboard box. One that wasn’t there when he was leaving for work that morning. 

“Let’s see…” He murmurs, going over to check. The paper is all soaked, disintegrating into space as it continues raining. Crouching, he’s met with a pair of eyes — no, no, make it three — staring right back at him. A tiny bundle of kittens letting out equally small meows as they huddle for warmth. There’s no sign of either their mother or another person for that matter, coming back for them. Not to mention, how there’s nothing for these little guys to eat. “Kittens, huh,” 

Well, the choice is pretty obvious. Wriothesley gently picks the kitties up, unzipping a part of his jacket to give them any source of heat. He flinches, startled from their icy paws making their rounds at feeling his neck. Holding them the best he can, he begins the trek back to the apartment. Common sense is telling him his partner won’t be happy with this arrangement… But the little rascals sliding around and nuzzling into his chest, yes nuzzling can you believe it, are making him put aside his rationality to the side. He has been chosen. He now has a duty to these little guys. 

“I’m back,” Wriothesley announces the second he enters through the front door. The kittens are still holding onto him, their paws no longer cold. As much as exhausting the journey upstairs was, the man was now before the second… and the biggest hurdle of them all. You. 

“Hi, love,” You shout back, rummaging in the kitchen. The kettle is on — boiling water for Wriothesley’s after-work tea. After some work and quite a lot of boxes ending up on the floor, you manage to find the perfect one for tonight’s evening. 

There’s a shift in your expression the second you look at him. Eyebrows furrowed, nose scrunched… Oh, something seems out of place with your partner. And you’re determined to figure out what it is. “Did you bulk up?” You ask, looking Wriothesley up and down. 

‘Ah, so that’s the route you’ve decided to take’ — He thinks. Well, he can keep up with the sudden “bulkiness” of his chest. Not to mention how it’s an ego boost. “Sure did, buttercup. Whaddya think? ”

Oh damn. Perhaps Wriothesley’s just made a mistake. Inviting you to examine his chest… still in his coat, mind you, was the last thing he wanted to do. Well, he’s too deep in it now. You’re already on your way. No point in avoiding the consequences now. 

“Lemme see, lemme see—“ You mutter, trying to pull him into a hug. “—mmrrp.” You freeze. Take a step back. Look at Wriothesley’s face, then at his chest. A few times. “The hell?” 

Wriothesley’s equally stunned. Of all times for one of the kiddos to meow, it was now?! “Sorry,” He snorts. “Haven’t had anything to eat.” 

“Oh shut up,” You freeze him with the way you look at him. “Your stomach most definitely does not meow.” A sigh escapes you. How to proceed with this mess, huh. “Wriothesley, did you get a cat?” You ask, finally. 

“Well…” There’s a pause. An unsure one, as he takes off his coat. “Not one…” He adds, unveiling the tiny kittens. “But three.” 

You’re stunned beyond repair. You’ve kept staring at four pairs of eyes looking back at you for a good five minutes. Where did Wriothesley get the cats from… Did he look at your apartment? It’s most definitely not cat— kitten approved!

“We cannot keep the cats…” You say, gently taking them one by one. The second their tiny paws touch your floors they’re off exploring the house. You take a look at Wriothesley — his eyes are filled with sadness. And guilt. “Wriothesley, have you seen our apartment?!” 

“We can baby-proof the apartment.” He retaliates, wandering behind the fluffy brigade. “Come on, [Y/N], look at him.” Wriothesley picks one of the kittens and puts it right in your face. “Look at him and tell him he should be back outside, freezing in the rain.” 

The little cat is flailing its little paws around, catching onto your finger as you gently take it… to examine it further. “Fine.” You say, sighing. “We can foster the kittens. For now.” 

And thus, you have turned into certified cat foster parents. ‘For now.’ 

Step one to owning any animal is to prepare a safe environment for them to live in. For cats it’s fairly simple — something comfy for sleep, food bowls and water and some toys. Depending on the cat, the latter can be something as simple as a paper ball… or shoelaces. 

“C’mon, let go, kiddo.” Wriothesley giggles, trying to unclasp one of the kittens from swatting at his shoes. Once he’s scooped one away, another one comes swinging in trying to bite the aglets off. 

“Wrio, you ready yet?” Your voice gets louder as you descend from the second floor of your flat. Armed with the most enormous tote bag you own, you’re ready for the battle, that is the shopping spree for cat stuff. Hell, you’ve even got your comfiest shoes on. All precautions taken so you won’t want to claw your eyes out by the end of the day. At the top of your shopping list is a bold “cable covers” written out. Just in case the kittens make their way into your office. 

“Sorry, Love…” Wriothesley scratches the back of his head as you’re faced with the situation at hand. He’s absolutely swarmed and enamoured with the tiny fluffs barely the size of his palm. “The kids have me all surrounded.” 

You don’t even sigh in disappointment. You simply take the kittens one by one, placing them out of reach. If you weren’t sure the kittens would never succeed in being fostered, you sure were now. 

With the shoelace incident taken care of, the two of you can finally go out. Let’s just hope you won’t forget about anything in the meantime. 

The animal store is filled to the brim with the necessary goods. Although the pent-up smell of the dry food makes your head spin, the way Wriothesley’s totally focused on picking out the things makes your heart swell with pride. As far as you remember, back when you first started living together… many, many years after being a couple, you’ve never really discussed owning pets. You were in the middle of finishing your university degree and he was far too swamped with work to find the time to care for another being in the household. 

Nowadays you’re also blessed with a stable job. One that allows you to fully work from home. Your shared apartment doesn’t have any laws against owning pets, too… Maybe the kittens were a blessing in disguise? The universe telling you, that yes, the time for expanding your family was now. No, no, no. You were supposed to just foster the kittens. You were supposed to be the rational one upholding the decision. 

“—you okay?” Wriothesley’s voice finally gets through as he flicks you across the forehead. “Babe, you’ve been staring at the cat food for ages.” You look around, trying to jog your memory of what you were supposed to be doing. Right… You’re at the store, picking up supplies for the kittens. 

“Y-yeah,” You stammer out. Your fingers brush against your heated cheek as you go over the mental list of supplies you were supposed to buy. “Do we have everything?” 

“Sure do. Bowls, some food, litter and litter boxes… Oh- I asked a shopping assistant if we’re supposed to give the kiddos milk, you know, given how tiny they are. They said it’s up to 8 weeks.” Wriothesley’s rambling at this point. He does mention the need to schedule a visit with a veterinarian — to figure out the actual age of the babies. And all the shots they should get as they age. 

You’re in awe. Not to be mean, but you didn’t think Wriothesley would put in so much work to educate himself on how to care for the cats. “Sounds good,” You reply. “What’s next?” 

“Cable covers?” Wriothesley tilts his head slightly. “I remember you saying something about ensuring your office escapes bites-free.” 

“Oh, that’s right. Thanks for reminding me!”  

“Why are you walking around with a toothbrush?…” You ask, questioning if what you’ve seen is even real. Due to the kittens zooming around for most of the night, you barely feel conscious. Your walls look a little blurry and you’re certain you have a migraine. Are you even sure the Wriothesley you’re talking to isn’t a hallucination? 

“I’ve read on the internet that it reminds the boys of their mothers.” Wriothesley damps the brush and hides for one of the cats to follow him. Sure enough, the bravest one pounces at your partner — getting scooped instead. Despite being multiple weeks after the visit at the vet, learning that only two of the kittens are male, Wriothesley insists on calling them your boys. 

The sudden purring catches both of you off guard. Wrio’s still gently grazing the kitten’s fur with the brush and rubbing the chin with his free finger. “That’s so cute, holy shit,” He whispers, his eyes going from the kitten to you. And vice versa. “[Y/N], tell me it’s the cutest shit you’ve ever seen in your life.” 

“You’ve gotten far too attached to them.” You sigh, coming right up to him, just to witness the thing up close. “Oh shush, you. I’m just doing my duty as a loving father.” Yeah. You most likely won’t successfully foster these guys. 

Honestly, you should’ve committed to these thoughts earlier. Maybe it was how Wriothesley insisted on bottle-feeding the kittens himself. Maybe it was how excited he was to show pictures of the cats at work — retelling all the compliments they’d gotten the second he got back home… Or how he couldn’t take his eyes off them as they ran after tiny balls of yarn you’ve gotten them. 

To be honest, you haven’t been immune to the kittens either. It brightened your day so much to have them run around your office as you’ve worked. Well, it was quite enraging as they laid across your keyboard, actively forcing you to take a break, but how could you get mad when they purred happily spread out in your lap. 

“—mrrp, mrrrrrp” An annoying purr is what wakes you up. Good morning, the cat alarm is working right as it should. “Come on, baby,” You let out an ‘oof’ when the cat flops onto your chest. “Give me like twenty more minutes, alright?” 

It’s been almost half a year. The kittens can no longer be considered those — no matter how much Wriothesley insists on calling them that. The apartment has long been turned into a cat sanctuary dedicated to the three rascals who have been running your life. And speaking of the man himself? Still as dedicated to taking care of your children… 

Only Wriothesley can be so cute as he pouts when you scold him. For what exactly? Well, undermining your authority in the household. Because, no Wrio, you cannot give the cats snacks after you’ve yelled at the cats for getting stuck behind the wardrobe. 

Hey, at the very least the children love you equally. Maybe.

date of posting — april 6th 2025

[kasa-negi]

Wind Breaker boys and their name plants part 2

PART 1 - Bofurin 1st years here PART 2 - Bofurin 2nd and 3rd years:

Umemiya Hajime 梅宮 一 - plum (the character for „one” in the name probably points to him being the first child in the family but it also suits him being the top of Furin) Symbolism: patience, faithfulness loyalty

The plum is also often paired with sakura as both represent the transition from winter to spring. The plum blooms a bit earlier than sakura. The pair commonly appears in art and poetry to show contrast between early and later (more refined) beauty.

Tsubakino Tasuku 椿野 佑 - camellia (the name means „to save” or „to assist”) Symbolism: self-reflection, inner strenght, grace, love

Hiragi Toma 柊 登馬 - holly (the name contains the characters for „climb” and „horse”) Symbolism: tranquility, foresight, peace, protection

Mizuki Saku 水木 聡久 - dogwood (the first characterin the name means „wise/smart/intelligent” or „fast learner”; „saku” written with different kanji couldmean „to bloom”) Sybolism: sacrifice, joy of new beginning, admiration, drability

Momose Takumi 桃瀬 匠 - peach (the name means „artisan” or „craftsman”) Sybolism: gentleness, beauty, good fortune, affection

Kaji Ren 梶 蓮 - paper mullbery (surname) and lotus (given name) Symbolism: prudence, purity, enlightenment, transformation

Enomoto Takeshi 榎本 健史 - nettle tree (the name contains the character for „health/strenght” but „take” written differently could also mean „baboo”) Symbolism: protection, nature, simplicity, prosperity

Kasumi Yuto 楠見 結斗 - camphor tree Symbolism: sturdiness, comfort, happy family life

Bonus

Tachibana Kotoha 橘 ことは - tachibana orange/tangerine Symbolism: wealth, happiness, pleasant memories, sweetness

PART 3 - Shishitoren here

[iron-sparrow]

祝您 ⸺ wishing you ⸺ 新年快樂 a Happy New Year in good health 身体健康 and prosperity year after year 年年有餘 ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

ft. @lionheartdancers

Lunar New Year is upon us, and while I currently live in a place that does not give us weeks of PTO to celebrate accordingly, I've been eating pineapple cakes and sticky rice cakes for well over a week now. Yum. (Mooncakes are notably not consumed on LNY but during the Mid-Autumn Festival.)

I've not been feeling especially celebratory. Between the fires in my backyard and the current admin holding my passport hostage, the start of the solar calendar year has sent me spiraling into survival mode almost immediately. I am doing my best to draw from the well of my support systems, from kindred spirits to a very good (and expensive) therapist I've finally reached out to again.

Lunar New Year. Spring Festival. Chinese New Year. Whatever you and yours call it, the holiday is meant to be a hopeful time, when we anticipate the eventual transition from winter to spring. I will give hope where I'm able, and I will persist. I hope you will also hold onto yours and persist.

I am determined to hold hands with my anger, and to continue knowing it. We will go into the New Year together as allies. Still, I want to offer you this famous poem about hope, written by historical figure Yu Qian.

《除夜太原寒甚》 寄語天涯客，輕寒���用愁。 春風來不遠，只在屋東頭。

"An Extremely Cold Night in Taiyuan on New Year’s Eve" Please tell the friends living afar, the weather is chilly but no need to worry. The spring wind is arriving and quite close to us, touching the eastern end of our house.

[witchboxco]

Imbolc Altar Ideas & Correspondences

Imbolc, also known as Candlemas or Brigid's Day, marks the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It's a time to celebrate the returning light and the awakening of the Earth.

Altar Decorations:

Candles: Imbolc is strongly associated with the element of fire. Decorate your altar with candles in shades of white, yellow, and light blue to represent the increasing daylight.

Brigid's Cross: Craft or purchase a Brigid's Cross, a traditional symbol associated with the Celtic goddess Brigid. Hang it on your altar as a protective charm.

Seasonal Flowers: Place early spring flowers like snowdrops, crocuses, and daffodils on your altar. These symbolize the first signs of life returning to the land.

Herbs: Incorporate herbs such as rosemary, thyme, and cinnamon for their purifying and invigorating properties. Bundle them together with a red or white ribbon.

Seeds: Represent the potential for growth by adding a dish of seeds to your altar. Consider seeds associated with early spring crops like wheat or herbs.

Imbolc Symbols: Include symbols like lambs, ewes, and the sun to capture the essence of this seasonal transition.

Candle Holders: Choose unique candle holders or lanterns to enhance the ambiance. Consider using candle holders in the shape of suns, stars, or nature-inspired designs.

Divination Tools: Add divination tools like tarot cards or runes to your altar for seeking guidance during this transitional period.

Symbolic Stones: Integrate crystals such as citrine for abundance, aquamarine for clarity, and moonstone for intuition. Arrange them aesthetically around your altar.

Feathers: Symbolizing air and spirituality, feathers can be incorporated to invoke the energy of the season. Choose feathers from birds associated with the goddess Brigid, like swans or owls.

Artwork: Display artwork or illustrations that resonate with the themes of Imbolc. This could include depictions of Brigid, snow-covered landscapes, or symbols of growth and renewal.

Imbolc Incense: Craft or purchase incense blends with scents like frankincense, myrrh, and chamomile to fill your sacred space with a soothing and purifying aroma.

Correspondences

Goddess Brigid: Imbolc is sacred to Brigid, the Celtic goddess of hearth, home, and inspiration. Invoke her energy for healing, creativity, and protection.

Colors: White, yellow, light green, and light blue are associated with Imbolc. Use these colors in candles, altar cloths, and decorations to align with the festival's energy.

Stones: Crystals such as amethyst, garnet, and clear quartz resonate with Imbolc's energies.

Foods: Dairy products, especially cheese, and foods made with seeds like bread or muffins are fitting for Imbolc. Set offerings on your altar or incorporate them into your celebration feast.

Water: Imbolc is also associated with the element of water. Include a small bowl of water on your altar to symbolize purification.

Creativity Symbols: Imbolc is a time for inspiration and creative endeavors. Include symbols of your creative pursuits, such as a paintbrush, musical instrument, or writing quill.

Anointing Oils: Create or purchase anointing oils infused with herbs like lavender, rosemary, and frankincense. Use them to anoint candles, tools, or yourself during Imbolc rituals.

Animal Representations: Incorporate figurines or images of animals associated with Brigid, such as lambs, cows, or swans, to honor her connection to the animal kingdom.

Wheat or Corn Dolls: Craft small dolls from wheat or corn husks, symbolizing the harvest to come. Place them on your altar as a representation of the Earth's fertility.

Bell or Chimes: Hang a bell or wind chimes near your altar to symbolize the awakening of nature and the stirring of life. Ring it during your Imbolc rituals to mark significant moments.

Decorative Cloth: Choose an altar cloth with intricate patterns or symbols related to Imbolc, such as suns, wheels, or Brigid's crosses, to add a touch of magic to your sacred space.

May you find warmth in the returning light. <3

[dionysianivy]

𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐤

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

Snowdrops may not be the most talked-about flowers in witchcraft, but they hold a very special significance. Blooming only at the start of the year, they symbolize purification, psychic awareness, love and hope (qualities that make them very powerful to spells and rituals.) Snowdrops also represent innocence, renewal, and protection from negativity. They are used as offerings for deities and they are a great addition to magic jars. To keep their energy throughout the year, it’s best to dry them while they’re fresh. :D

Snowdrops are especially meaningful during Imbolc, marking the transition from winter to spring. Closely tied to Brigid, they are often used in rituals as symbols of devotion and gratitude. Many witches turn to them when they connecr with Brigid and when they seek blessings for creativity, inspiration, and healing, welcoming the fresh energy of the season.

In Greek mythology, Persephone, the goddess of spring, had to spend autumn and winter in the underworld with Hades. According to legend, when she returned each spring, she brought snowdrops with her, proof that life was coming back to the world. Her time in the underworld symbolized death and stillness, as nature withered in her absence. But when she returned, everything started growing again. Snowdrops capture this cycle of death and renewal, representing both the quiet of winter and the return of life in spring.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

Magic Correspondences

Zodiac: Aquarius, Pisces

Planet: Saturn, Moon

Day: Monday, Saturday

Element: Air, Water

Energy: Feminine

Tarot: The Fool, The Hermit

Goddesses: Brigid, Persephone, Aphrodite, Freyja, Nanna

Animals: Sheep, Lamb

Celebrations: Imbolc

Magical Uses: innocence, purification, hope, spirit magick and talking with with the dead, new beginnings, acceptance, purity, love, faerie magick, psychic abilities, connecting with water magick, intuition, eternal life, dream work

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

ꨄ︎ The name comes from Greek (Galanthus) which translates to "milk flower."

ꨄ︎ Snowdrops are deeply connected to fae lore.

ꨄ︎ Dried snowdrops placed in sleep bags can promote deep sleep and prophetic dreams.

ꨄ︎ You can purify your home by placing snowdrops in different rooms or walking through your house with the flower.

ꨄ︎ In a Moldovan legend, the Snowdrop was born from an epic battle between Lady Spring and the Winter Witch. As they fought for control over the Earth, Lady Spring pricked her finger, and where her blood touched the snow, it melted, giving birth to a tiny Snowdrop flower. This marked the beginning of her reign over the world.

ꨄ︎ Snowdrops are associated with the dead and can offer comfort to those who are grieving, helping sorrow pass more quickly.

ꨄ︎ They are a dual-natured flower, symbolizing both life and death. Because of this, they are seen as both lucky and unlucky.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

[soulessjourney]

Sick

Paring: Astarion x fem!DurgTavReader

Word count: 766

Summary: The moment you let out a cough in camp Astarion turns to his necormancy book for answers.

Warnings: OOC Astarion, Humor, Astarion doesn't know how to comfort sick Tav, Astarion believes Tav is dying, fluff

A/N: This one is just a tiny little humorus work that I had sitting here in my drafts, I thought the idea was cute as we apprach out spring months.

The changing of seasons was the one time you dreaded being alive. Transitioning from winter to spring meant a massive shift in temperature, often resulting in catching a cold due to the sudden change. Seated on the ground between Shadowheart and Halsin, you observed as he taught you the art of carving a small wooden duck. A few feet away, Astarion was engaged in a lively argument with Gale about who knows what, while Lae’zel tirelessly sharpened her sword against the stone wheel for the fifth time that day.

“Gently slide the dagger over this portion of the wood; the trick here is to apply pressure and scrape for a smooth outcome. Now, give it a try,” he instructed, handing the small wooden figure to Shadowheart.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you watched her work, following Halsin's guidance. Her tongue poked out from the corner of her mouth, a sign of her focused concentration. An itch filled your throat, and you cleared it a few times to relieve the sensation. A cough escaped you, catching Astarion's attention as he turned to look at you. “What was that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Raising a brow in confusion, you glanced at the others, only to receive shrugs in response. “What was what?” you asked, shifting on the ground. Another cough slipped past you, and Astarion quickly approached, shoving his finger in your face.

“That! You never cough, Darling. Are you dying?” A laugh sounded from Shadowheart, and Halsin shot Astarion a confused glance before looking at you. A fit of coughs overtook you, causing you to lean over in an attempt to stop them. “You are dying. Out of everything we have been through, I cannot let this be the one thing to take you out,” Astarion declared, rushing towards his tent.

Once your coughing fit ceased, you followed his movements, watching as he tore apart his tent in search of something. Shadowheart leaned over and nudged you gently. “Who's going to tell him that you simply have a cold?” she whispered, keeping her eyes focused on him. Halsin, from the other side, laughed and took the dagger and wooden duck from Shadowheart.

“I've never seen Astarion care so much. What is he looking for, anyway? If you were dying, I could've simply helped you,” Halsin remarked, shrugging. Everyone turned their attention to Halsin, nodding in agreement.

Just a few moments later, a loud ‘Ahah!’ echoed through the camp, and everyone's heads snapped towards Astarion, their eyes widening. Gale stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Now, why did you pull that out? She's not dead, Astarion. There is no need to bring out the necromancy book,” Gale said, eyeing the book in Astarion's hands as the stone placed in the center of the cover glowed brightly.

Astarion scoffed as Gale continued trying to convince him to hand over the book. “I know she’s not dead, but if by chance she does die, I can simply bring her back,” he stated, flashing Gale a confident smile before shifting his gaze to you. “Don’t worry, my sweet. I would love you even if you were undead.” Your jaw dropped open as you shot to your feet, placing your hands on your hips.

“My gods, Astarion, I’m not dying. Put the damn book down; I just have a cold,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes as you met his stare. “If I were dying, I don’t think I would be standing right now.” Shadowheart stood, sensing a shift within you. Whether it was from standing too quickly, being sick, or both, black dots filled your vision, and you felt yourself collapse to the ground. Shadowheart dove to catch you, breaking your fall.

Astarion looked between the group of your friends before flipping to a page in the book and beginning to read a spell from its contents. A chorus of “No” echoed from the group as everyone lunged to tackle Astarion, preventing him from reading any further.

Karlach walked up to the camp, a deer hanging over her shoulder, observing her groupmates tackling Astarion, Gale prying the book away from him, and you lying on the ground a few feet away from everyone. Dropping the deer to the ground beside her, she caught the group’s attention. “What in the nine hells is going on?” she shouted, her eyes staying trained on you. “Well, don’t stand there; bring her back!”

The group groaned as they scrambled to keep Astarion from grabbing the book again. “She’s not dead!” they simultaneously yelled, the sound of their voices bouncing off the rocks around them.

[longlivethewildernessyet]

It is very interesting to me that Even in Arcadia's (the title track and the album, I think) flower seems to be Blackthorn.

Blackthorn has a long, long history in folklore, often associated with witchcraft and magic. It's known as "Mother of the Woods," or "Dark Crone of the Woods," apparently, and was said to have been used for wands and staffs. In the tale of Sleeping Beauty, it's Blackthorn that the prince must fight through. It's also one of those flowers that poets describe their loves like; eyes as dark as a sloe, skin as pale as the flower.

I can see the immediate connection to Sleep Token with magic. Sleep Token's stringent lore seems to often imply a level of magical interference. It would make sense, also, with the teasers put out featuring knights and fantastical creatures, that there would also be witches. It's all looking very Arthurian. I wonder if Morgan le Fay will make an appearance. The love poetry and romantic fairy tales also make sense. Vessel's lyrics are often romantic in nature, even if that romance is tainted by toxicity and pain. He often draws on similar metaphors to old love poetry, too. Dark eyes, red lips, promises of bodily devotion and dedication. Also; "Mother of the Woods," God Mother? Stringent connection, but it's there.

Blackthorn often flowers during cold weather, a phenomenon that occurs after a "false spring," i.e., when winter seems to end but restarts a short time later. This period of cold weather has been called "Black Thorn Winter" by locals.

So whilst it's not unheard of for flowers to bud in cold weather, it's certainly not usual until spring really gets going. Blackthorn, to me, represents survival; it represents enduring winter, literal and proverbial. Vessel's moving from one season to another with Even In Arcadia. Winter to Spring. Blackthorn, with its false springs and Black Thorn Winters and stalwart endurance, is a flower that takes us from winter to spring. Even In Arcadia is following this very same transition.

Its wood is hardy and tough, and grows fast. Its a survivor of a plant and is often used for hedgerows— you cannot drive anywhere in England without seeing it somewhere on the motorway or in a country lane. Its fruit, the sloe, is said to be good for cleansing the blood. The pulp of the fruit's flesh can apparently stick your tongue to the roof of your mouth and your lips together (according to William Cobbett of 150 years ago)! It can also be used to make tonics for digestion and rheumatism.

Again, themes of survival and endurance. It's a very versatile wood, with plenty of uses besides looking absolutely gorgeous (no bias here). With EIA, we're seeing a Vessel who wants to survive, to endure, to emerge, to push past the Winters and False Springs to finally grow into Spring itself. The stark contrast between the hardy, tough purple-black bark and the delicate, snowy white flowers, especially in early spring when there's no leaves budding, also seems to feed into Sleep Token's themes of contrasting pairings. White roses, black doves, anyone? But, I think with EIA and the whole divide between HV and FH, we're actually being steered in the direction of not seeing these contrasted pairs as in competition but in symbiosis. Without the wood, there would be no flower, without the flower, there would be no wood, despite their apparent differences. Sloes being used to cleanse the blood is an interesting one. Sleep Token often references blood as a holy force, as food, as a sexual symbol, as a symbol of pain and torment and trauma. So, cleansing the blood could represent cleaning away (Infinite Baths) the past, the hurt, in order to start again (fruit giving way to rot to make way for new flowers again the following year). Its properties as a healing plant also point to concepts regarding new growth and healing from past illnesses and wounds.

My flower language book provides the following meanings for blackthorn: crone, stabilises emotions, stimulating, hope, joy, dark arts.

Hope and joy!!! Hope and joy everyone!!! I really think (and this is only a theory, a big big "if," so to speak) that EIA is going to be about enduring hardship and finding hope and joy despite the pain, despite past hurt. The final song is Infinite Baths, mysterious as the title is, it's blatantly also about cleansing, starting anew. Blackthorn is a spring flower— it heralds the season of growth and newness.

Bonus:

The hawthorn, which flowers after its leaves have budded (opposite to a blackthorn, which flowers then buds leaves) has a scent that is the exact same chemical as the one released first when animal tissue decays— trimethylamine. I found that out on a guided tree walk, and my first thought was "Vessel would so use that in a song."

The use of natural imagery in EIA's artwork really emphasises the idea of cycles that we're seeing over and over. Nature is inherently cyclical, and we see it in flowering plants the most. Flower, leaf, fruit, rot. Flower, leaf, fruit, rot. Over and over until the plant dies. And it's not negative, it's sustainable. Regenerative. It's growth.

Even in Arcadia may be an album of growth. Of regeneration after the rot.

[cenarion-archive]

Apple Trees

Properties: Healing, rebirth, divination, magic, love, Otherworlds (the Dream, Ardenweald, etc), and G’hanir Deities: Mother Moon, Eonar, Aviana, Aessina, Ursol, Aliothe, Q’onzu Elements: Spirit, Decay Guardians: Moonkin, hippogryphs, harpies, owls, ravens, wisps

As many are told in their earliest druidic lessons the blossoms and fruit of the apple tree are also tied to some of the most powerful times of the Druidic and Elunarian year - Byltan and Samha, when dawn and twilight are at their most equal in spring and fall and veil between planes becomes thin. Because the apple blossoms bloom as Byltan approaches and produce their fruit in preparation of Samha, these trees hold great significance to the cycle itself and are often seen as representations of the cycle of generosity.

The apple tree serves as a Shan’do to us all, naturally teaching us lessons in the cycle of seasons and the balance between Spirit and Decay.  After the rest of winter Spirit and Life blooms and in time creates fruit. In turn if not consumed or pruned that fruit will fall to decay and rot. However, for those that do not see the world in cycles and balance they see the beautiful fruit becoming putrid and falling to the earth as a tragedy and waste of potential. As Doril we know that when the apple falls to decay it begins a new phase of life. One where it feeds the soil and insects below giving life to new trees or the apple tree itself. And so after the rest of winter does the cycle begin again. The apple tree is a reminder of this balance and cycle. Because of these lessons the Apple tree is closely associated with the cycle on a grander scale between the Dream and Ardenweald, a cycle that repeats in measurements of moments and eras. Interest and study in the realm of Ardenweald has only grown since the shattering of the veil and the blooming of Amirdrassil. During many moots and discussions of the cycle in Moonglade has the apple tree become a symbol for the lifecycle of Wild Gods, Loa, and nature spirits - each like an apple in the greater cycle and cosmic tree. When one falls it transitions to another phase of being in the long slumber either being reborn or sustaining others just like the humble apple.

A Gift of Elune While some tie the tree to G’hanir there are Druids of the Moon who believe that the apples are a gift from the Goddess Elune herself and her gardens. They say that the blossoms are a manifestation of her tranquility and each apple is blessed with a star inside to show her love. Some Druids of the Moon believe the Tear of Elune and the Sister’s Tear which seeded Amirdrassil are cosmic apple seeds from Elune herself.

Druidic Uses Some Druids of the Branch plant an Apple tree in their grove as a promise to stay. This is for two symbolic reasons, one for its symbol as a tree of community and the other for its protection. During the corruption of Val'sharah by the Nightmare, apple trees were some of the last to fall to corruption leading some to believe the tree held some natural resistance to the corruption if even for a short period. It's also believed that lightning will not strike an apple tree so it may serve as a ward from natural disasters as well. As such many druids will make wards of protection from apple branches or its blossoms, fruit , and/or wood as reagents for protective spells.

Some teaching methods use these properties of transition to aid Thero’shan in their first attempts to transition their consciousness to the Dream. A Shan’do will have their Thero’shan sleep beneath an Apple tree at the peak of a Full Moon. The theory being that the tree may serve as a guide for the mind. We find a similar lesson in The Legend of Applebeard. For as he slumbers  he dreams of forests far and unknown to him. If no apple tree is near, a Shan’do may take a fallen branch of an apple tree and tie silver bells to it. As the wind passes through the chimes it is said the mystical singing of Elune may be heard and lull Thero’shan into a trance and transition with greater ease. With the blooming of Amirdrassil some have begun to apply this method to the great tree and sleep under its boughs or fashion similar chimes with fallen branches of Amirdrassil in hopes of visiting Ardenweald. Though I have yet to hear if any have been successful.

Should you wish to fashion a chime like this for your own use or use the wood of apple trees in a staff or wand I offer a word of caution, never cut down a branch of an apple tree. Only take that which has naturally fallen and thereby freely given. To do so otherwise is said to bring bad luck and twist spells.

Rituals of the Apple Tree - If you wish to use Apples as regents in your spells it is commonly believed that if you pick apples between the new moon waxing to the full moon you will receive the abundance of the goddess either in consumption of the apple or any spells pertaining to it. An apple picked in the waning moon is said to also bring bad luck or is used in more baneful practices to curse another. - Apple trees may serve as wishing trees for Byltan or other occasions. Write your wish for the coming season on these thin strips of beech wood. Next, take a silver bell, ribbon, and some cider and approach the tree. Knock three times to awaken the spirit inside, pour some cider as an offering, and whisper your secret to the tree. Last, tie the ribbon to the tree’s branches and when the ribbon weathers away your wish will be granted. - Spells practiced underneath an apple tree may bring love and health. As will apple blossoms and the oil made from those blossoms. - Sleeping beneath an apple tree may grant someone visions of the Dream or Ardenweald. - Food made with apples may also bring any of its properties to the consumer.