#spring rain

[elizabugz]

[summerwages]

get liquid...rainy day wildflowers

[parasolladyansy]

A Rain Dance bouquet for you 🌧️

Silver skies out my window & flowers by In Love With A Ghost playing, I wanted to draw some flowers with rain lore ^o^

Pansy & Viola - picking one in the morning is said to bring rain later in the day.

Cotton - would be burned or soaked in water to summon big puffy nimbus clouds, heavy with rain.

Hydrangea - the symbol of 梅雨 (tsuyu), Japan’s rainy season in June to mid-July (my birthday’s sort of in the middle-end).

Rain Lily - proper name zephyranthes after spring’s west wind, known to burst into bloom after rainstorms.

—

PS: OH HEY! What about something like this for a wallpaper? It is kinda the vibe I was thinking?

[leavethisbluetheneighbourhood]

After the cold winter ends

Until spring comes again

Until flowers bloom

Stay there a little longer

[inkcoveredpoet]

1/3/25

[everythingwecomeacross]

Spring sky

[moonbeampixels]

Cloudy spring ☁️

[elizabugz]

[summerwages]

wet underbrush..

[parasolladyansy]

First Spring Rain ☔️

I couldn’t have asked for a better first day of spring - the morning was bright & warm, flowers happy & open. Then later in the day, we had our first spring rain. It was beautiful, with silver clouds & gentle rolls of thunder. It cleared up in the evening, just in time for a rosy sunset, the colors looking like a rainbow. ouo

It’s said the first rain of spring is special. Rain purifies the air & waters the earth - makes sense. May this Spring be a good one 🌧️🪻🍃

Sakura’s (Cherrim) overcast form is nice - I just wish she’d get a defense buff or something with her petals around her. ;u; Sora (Castform) naturally showed up here, too.

This Goodra doesn’t have a name yet - while she is very rain-themed, I haven’t really used one. Thinking maybe Viola or Pansy, after the flower said to bring rain (one reason I always grow them - they’re also pretty & smell nice) =u=

[savagewildnerness]

“He lay a broken child on the gravel path, only yards from the passing traffic, the ring of horses' hooves, the rumble of the wooden wheels.

And in this broken child were centuries of evil and centuries of knowledge, and out of him there came no ignominious entreaty but merely the soft and bruised sense of what he was. Old, old evil, eyes that had seen dark ages of which I only dream.

I let him go, and I stood up and sheathed my sword.

I walked a few paces from him, and collapsed upon a wet stone bench.

Far away, busy figures labored about the shattered window of the palace.

But the night lay between us and those confused mortals, and I looked at him listlessly as he lay still.

His face was turned to me, but not by design, his hair a tangle of curls and blood. And with his eyes closed, and his hand open beside him, he appeared the abandoned offspring of time and supernatural accident, someone as miserable as myself.

What had he done to become what he was? Could one so young so long ago have guessed the meaning of any decision, let alone the vow to become this?

I rose, and walking slowly to him, I stood over him and looked at him, at the blood that soaked his lace shirt and stained his face.

It seemed he sighed, that I heard the passage of his breath.

He didn't open his eyes, and to mortals perhaps there would have been no expression there. But I felt his sorrow. I felt its immensity, and I wished I didn't feel it, and for one moment I understood the gulf that divided us, and the gulf that divided his attempt to overpower me from my rather simple defense of myself.

Desperately he had tried to vanquish what he did not comprehend.

And impulsively and almost effortlessly I had beaten him back.

All my pain with Nicolas came back to me and Gabrielle's words and Nicolas's denunciations. My anger was nothing to his misery, his despair.

And this perhaps was the reason that I reached down and gathered him up. And maybe I did it because he was so exquisitely beautiful and so lost, and we were after all of the same ilk.

Natural enough, wasn't it, that one of his own should take him away from this place where mortals would sooner or later have approached him, driven him stumbling away.

He gave no resistance to me. In a moment he was standing on his own feet. And then he walked drowsily beside me, my arm about his shoulder, bolstering him and steadying him until we were moving away from the Palais Royal, towards the rue St. Honor.

I only half glanced at the figures passing us, until I saw a familiar shape under the trees, with no scent of mortality coming from it, and I realized that Gabrielle had been there for some time.

She came forward hesitantly and silently, her face stricken when she saw the blood-drenched lace and the lacerations on his white skin, and she reached out as if to help me with the burden of him though she did not seem to know how.

Somewhere far off in the darkened gardens, the others were near. I heard them before I saw them. Nicki was there too.

They had come as Gabrielle had come, drawn over the miles, it seemed, by the tumult, or what vague messages I could not imagine, and they merely waited and watched as we moved away.”

Nobody made art, so I used @toriangeli's beautiful vampires and my blood necklace to create the scene!!!

[oddestishottest]

04/20/25

[mote-historie]

Erté aka Romain De Tirtoff, Spring Rain, 1920s

[lionofchaeronea]

Spring Rain (left screen), Kanzan Shimomura, 1916