#Spirit of Spring

[uwudonoodle]

Hoping this is the last cold spell this year. Wishing for spring.

[bearzebaa]

vals de la muerte con la vida misma.

[elyaqim]

The Feminine Personification of Spring Through the Years.

The feminine personification of the season of Spring is documented in a number of public‐domain sources and named Spring, the Fairy of Spring, Fairy Spring, Lady Spring, Miss Spring, Mistress Spring, Princess Spring, Queen of Spring, the Spirit of Spring, Miss Springtime, Verna and Vesna.

Additionally, the goddesses Flora and Chloris have been considered personifications of springtime although their names refer more to plants and greenery. (However, in the 1921 play The Magic Fiddle, Flora, fairy of the flowers, and Verna, fairy of spring, are shown to be two separate beings.) The goddesses Persephone and Saraswati are also strongly associated with springtime.

☞ “Spring,” illustration by (William B.) Gihon for “Spring,” by R. H. Stoddard, Sartain’s Magazine, vol. 6, no. 4, Apr. 1850. (In the public domain.)

☞ Illustration for “The Revolt of the Flowers,” by Mary E. VanDyne, Harper’s Young People, vol. 7, no. 344, 1 June 1886. (In the public domain.)

☞ Spring, painting by William Holbrook Beard (1824–1900), year not known. (In the public domain.)

☞ “The Spirit of Spring,” illustration by Polly Marston Leavitt for “The Crowning of the Queen,” by Jessie M. Baker, St. Nicholas, vol. 42, no. 7, May 1915. (In the public domain.)

[chloesimaginationthings]

The FNAF story of the one you shouldn’t have killed..

[viput69]

Leave the demon to his demons, rest your soul

British

[elizabugz]

[starlessmistake]

Su Yishui hair appreciation post

Love of the Divine Tree (2025)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

ladies before bed

[amazingspake]

My piece for the aa spring swap! It's for @betapopish who requested Apollo, Nahyuta and Rayfa going somewhere together, hope you like it!

Aa5 aa6 spoilers

Bonus picture:

Space Center photo doodle under cut

[aweebshitdrawings]

This is comic of a scenario that I wrote using the amazing and talented @babyblankyerror Hitman Stan AU

If you want more background on why Stan is with Ford can see here:

[ayearoferewhon]

Soak smoke

[bearzebaa]

Anoixi - Spirit of Spring

Spirit of Spring, often referred to as Anoixi is an embodiment of one of the four seasons in the Shattered World. Their depiction, like every other season, varies from person to person, culture to culture etc. Some might depict them as a man, some as a woman, some as neither or both; some depict them as slender or muscular, or formless; more human-like, more beastkin-like, or as an indescribable horror.

Whatever the depiction, however, some things remain mostly the same - the mask, pink and teal color, as well as their signature javelin and shield."

This has to be the quickest concept to full art process I've ever done and I'm so proud of it aaaaa

[withoutend]

The Firebird Suite - Disney's Fantasia 2000

[yiqi-fr]

A WIP of Manju, the founder of my clan's village!

[after-witch]

Spring Interlude [Yandere Spring Spirit x Reader]

Title: Spring Interlude [Yandere Spring Spirit x Reader]

Synopsis: What's in a name, anyway? Just a moment in the spring.

Word count: 425

notes: yandere, implied kidnapping-kinda-sorta-idk

“Is your name truly Robin?”

Robin–you call him Robin, but is that his name, really?–runs his fingers through the patch of bluebells, and you swear they ring with the lazy movement. His head is currently resting in your lap, fair chestnut hair tickling your thighs through your skirt; a favorite position of his, especially in the afternoon. 

“It’s the name you call me, isn’t it?” He only partially tilts his chin to look back at you, his  full expression shrouded. 

“Yes, but–” you start, finding your mouth feeling sticky, like it did on some other afternoon when he fed you honey by the spoonful. It tasted like flowers. Hard to question things, with a mouth full of honey. “But… what’s your name… really?”

The question you’re asking–the question you want to ask but can’t bring yourself to form, that is–is who are you, what are you, tell me everything, everything, everything.

Because you want to know. Don’t you? 

The truth is not a subject you often broach. It’s too hard to look at, sometimes, even in what has felt like an endless spring. But what Robin (or not-Robin) is, what he isn’t, is something that sits on your shoulders like a burden.

You went with him, that’s true. Half-willingly, with your eyes equally half open. You were taken in by the freshness and freedom, the lightness, the promise of paints and lambs and Robin there through it all.

But that’s not all of him, and it never was, and now–

Now, part of you wants to see things as nakedly as you can. Purely. Truthfully.

Robin shifts, and shakes a few wind-blown leaves from his hair with his fingers, like scratching a dog. When he faces you, kneeling on the ground, you know he’s older than he looks. Far more than twenty, thirty, fourty, and just how old did one live, when it was spring forever?

“Do you want to call me another name?” He asks, turning his head a little. He tucks something behind your ear–one of the bluebells–and moves in to kiss you. As always, he misses what you really want. Or doesn’t miss it, perhaps; sees it and steps away from it and shushes you with a smile or a walk or pointing out a freshly born rabbit tucked away in the grass.

“No,” you say, speaking through his kiss, the taste of flowers and a hint of bitter grass. “I suppose not.”

You let the question blow away with the gentle breeze, perhaps to come around again on another afternoon.