#sun tea in the summer is divine

[yandere-wishes]

⋆ Anomaly ⋆

❤Summary: Reader is an anomaly. A noblewoman of foreign descent. She doesn't belong here. But oh how she wishes to burn the world down just like William.

❤Author's note: A little something for Ana (@yandere-romanticaa) I hope you enjoy it!!

❤Warnings: Reader is traumatized, Yandere behavior, killing and blood, cryptic. I swear I know how math works…I've just been slaking this summer.

There are equations written over your skin. Complex formulas he's yet to solve. Exponents and variables freckle your body, scattered shards that try to tell him something, whispering the world's secrets every time he kisses your hand. You are an anomaly he thinks. Face full of cracks where the stars seep through. You're a mistake in the universe. A perfect doll misplaced. You are something, William is almost sure of it.

At heart, William is and always will be a mathematician. It just so happens that crime and math follow the same principles. Both require diligence and practice. Carefully throughout plans of how one must approach such a conundrum. One may call it a formula or a modus operandi or anything else as jejune. But in the end, a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet.

And yet to Moriarty, you are an equation that refuses to be solved. An enigma he's desperately sought to unravel since your first meeting.

William notices something odd as you stroll down an exquisite exemplar of the golden ratio. Something the lord of crime can't fully place. You're akin to a puzzle missing far too many pieces to properly depict its picture. Maybe it's the setting he ponders as he watches you take careful steps in heeled shoes. Maybe it's the music from the ballroom or the meaningless prattle of the aristocrats that robs your form of all logic. Something is amiss with you and he's frantic to find out what it is.

William introduces himself when you reach the bottom of the staircase. He's never been one to show primary interest in the ladies. Rather he waits in the faint glow of the moonlight until someone approces him. Maybe it's the need to distinguish himself from the other aristocrats, maybe it's the repulsion for their customs and manners that refrains him from ever commencing idle chatter. Yet with you, a girl he's never met before, he finds it fitting to say hello first. To talk, about nothing and everything in the same breath. He mentions his admiration for the staircase in passing. Never expecting you to latch on to the words and morph them into the divine proportion. "My father was a mathematical enthusiast, he's passed that on to me as well." Your words slip into his veins like a narcotic, like the melody of an ancient tune lost to time.

William smiles, easy and bright like the melting rays of the desert sun. "Quite the coincidence, I'm a mathematics professor at Durham University". There's a giggle that bleeds from your rose-tainted lips. Reverberating in the chambers of his heart. "A toast then" you propose "to the lethal magnificence of calculation"

You click your champagne glass against his, as something feral festers within the young nobleman.

It's only days later when he's replaying that night in his head as he sips his afternoon tea. That he realizes your champagne glass was empty that whole time. How strange he pondered, wondering if he'd even seen you touch a single intoxicant all evening.

Four days and three sleepless nights later William finds himself tracing the letters of your name with tender adoration. As if he's engraving prayers upon his bones. He needs to see you again as desperately as he needs to breathe. The letter he writes is aloof, meticulous. Prying on your curiosity, hoping you'll take the bait. One miserable day later Louis delivers a letter bathed in your fragrance. Informing the lord Moriarty of your acceptance of his invitation for tea. William folds the letter with the leniency of a biologist regulating their slides. Tucking it away within his breast pocket.

You wear red when you oblige his invitation. An odd red, one that breaks his perception of the color. It's too vibrant yet too opaque. He's beginning to wonder if everything about you is an irregularity. When he ushers the conversation to your garment you merely laugh and brush it off as having belonged to your mother. There's something wrong with that reply as if the universe weeps at your every word. William watches astonished as if he's been told a secret lost to time.

It becomes a habit, an obsession, an addiction really. Tea thrice a week with the woman who plagues his dreams. He lets his cover slip between sips of tea. Permitting you glances into his dark affairs. There's a moment that breaks the norm. A bizarre instance when you ask him to spare no detail in recounting how a poor tormented man murdered the marquess that raped his wife. William stops the proclean cup mere millimeters from his lips. His voice dies in his throat as his mind races to find an appropriate way to tell a lady such a bloody tale. For a second reality slips away.

Reality has a tendency to slip away unnoticed when he's with you.

You weave William tales of foreign lands that sound like they belong in children's fairytales. You tell him about heroes who've done the impossible and kings whose hearts are as pure as the summer skies.

Something about you reverberates in his subconscious. Oh, how he wishes to engulf you, to pick apart your flesh revealing all those dainty secrets you keep in your pretty little chest.

He asks how you know of such utopic lands. You smile. "Because I once lived there"

One day, as Louis serves black tea with rose petals, you bring up a rather peculiar request. "Permit me to assist you in your quest for equality lord Moriarty." William's beginning to believe he's going mad when he hears you. Albit it may as well be expected. Any sane noble lady would have run away many times over. Yet you remain. Forever poised in your adorned seat. Now more than ever William wishes he knew what you truly are. "I want to help you", you plead. "Allow me to aid you in burning this world down and starting anew". He shouldn't have accepted, he shouldn't have nobbed. He shouldn't have left his seat to trace the side of your face with more love than he knew he possessed.

Sometimes, William wonders if something is haunting you, an apparition nesting within the depths of your heart. He ponders what could drive a brilliant mind such as yours to crave the blood of the rich. You once told him about a heritage disrespected. A legacy buried under sand and water lilies. He's yet to find the true meaning behind those words. Does that make you a threat or an ally? Can either be exalted to a lover?

Moriarty promises you the world. Promise you revenge. He's not sure if he too will burn away in your vendetta. Yet he's willing to take the risk if he can hold you close after every murder case.

"I've tried to kick the habit of strolling around the cemeteries at night. Yet I must admit I rather enjoy this." William smiles at your twisted words as he leads the way. If everything has goes as planned -which is most often the case- then the two of you should be prepared for quite the spectacle. A certain Count - who had shown more interest in you than Moriarty could permit- would be getting knifed by his butler whose life he had ruined. A whole new meaning to the term 'the butler did it'. Quite comedic from William's perspective.

You lean on a withering oak tree, hidden by London's thick fog. William stands by your side, the personification of a grim reaper. You watch the play begin, the cobblestone stage illuminated by the blood-red moon. The confrontation, the knife being thrust into the rich vermin's heart. Again and Again and Again. The butler screams into the bloodstained night. His words quelled by his sobs and screams of agony from his dying tormentor. You only catch half of his reasoning, half of his allegations. And yet that is more than enough to comprehend his motive. You sympathize with the poor man, one whose scars mirror your own.

William's scarlet gaze befalls you, as the performance nears its end.

You pick at your nails in a manner that William finds a little too adorable.

You are an anomaly masquerading as a human. Depression lays heavy over your bones as stardust gathers in the corners of your eyes.

You pray to the creator of the moon, pray for a place long since destroyed.

"I've yet to find someone who truly understands me," you say as the two of you begin the journey back to the Moriarty estate.

"Then we share the same burden, my lady," William says, stopping in his tracks.

He lays a firm hand on your shoulder pulling you backwards into his embrace. Somewhere in the distance, three crows consecrate you with their blessings. Willian's hands rest heavy on your sides. He holds you like a little boy holds his father's arithmatic books. Full of care, full of wonder. "What are you" he whispers into your ear. Leaving a playfully hard bite to the shell. His lips trace yours like one traces a treasure map. Trying to unearth all the riches of the world. "My anomaly" he mutters before he finally commits.

When Moriarty kisses you the whole world melts away.

There's an intriguing lightheadedness that follows. As if the stars themselves have exploded within you. You wonder if basking in his presence will mend your tattered heart.

"My precious little anomaly"

Tag list: @elvyshiarieko @himerurun @latolover @aru-nightmare @guidingstarsstuff @myfancollections

[breelandwalker]

Strawberry Moon - June 3, 2023

Grab your baskets and your moon jars, witches - it's time for the Strawberry Moon!

Strawberry Moon

The Strawberry Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of June in the Northern Hemisphere. The name is taken from the ripening of those little red heart-shaped berries we find in so many summertime treats. Strawberries are typically ready to harvest beginning around the summer solstice, though this will vary depending on variety, planting times, and local weather. The Strawberry Moon, sadly, does not turn pink to match the berries.

Other European names for this moon include Honey Moon, Rose Moon, and Mead Moon. Indigenous names for the June moon include Blooming Moon (Anishinaabe), Green Corn Moon (Cherokee), and Hatching Moon (Cree).

What Does It Mean For Witches?

Full moons are excellent times for bringing wishes to fulfillment and plans to fruition, all the more so under one named after a prolific berry. This is an optimal time to make things happen!

Your intuition may be stronger than usual during this time, so pay attention to those little inklings and gut feelings that won't be ignored. They might be telling you something important. Dreams may also be more vivid, though not necessarily more accurate or revealing.

This is a time to explore things that catch your attention or pique your curiosity, and to let yourself be open to new ideas and new opportunities.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

With a full moon in the sky and the summer solstice hot on its' heels, it's time to prepare for a full bloom. Here's hoping you've been nurturing those plans and seeds of growth you planted in the spring, because they're about to start flowering and the way is clear to sow the next stage of your plans. What they will be and what new prospects the summer will bring is entirely up to you.

With the moon in Sagittarius again this year, it's a good time to look ahead to the future. Think on the plans you have in process and let yourself dream of how things might turn out. If you're inclined to journaling, make a note of how things are going so far and how you hope they'll turn out. Pick your favorite divination method and do a reading for the month ahead. (Make sure you write that down too so you can check back later!)

This is a great time to go berry-picking or flower-gathering, so check your area for pick-your-own farms or farmer's markets with local produce. Have a picnic with friends or just enjoy a quiet afternoon with your own thoughts and a few favorite treats. Make a jar of sun tea or a sweet and summery berry salad. If you're partial to strawberries, indulge that sweet tooth!

Strawberries are also excellent ingredient in spells for love, beauty, fertility, and emotional healing. Create a charm for self-love or perhaps to attract a summer romance. Enchant your favorite makeup or skin care products with a glamour of confidence. Just as expectant mothers once carried strawberry leaves as a folk remedy for pregnancy pains, you can carry a clutch of them in your pocket to help heal a broken heart or assuage the pain of grief. A packet of strawberry leaves is also a potent good-luck charm. Snack on strawberries to bring fertile abundance into your life, whether you're looking for creativity or opportunity or perhaps hoping to grow your family this year.

Charge your crystals and spell jars and moon water under the light of Strawberry Moon to catch the energy of blooming flowers, ripening fruit, wishes coming true, and carefully-laid plans realized. (If you're planning to use it for any consumables, please make sure you're using fresh, potable drinking water rather than rain or runoff.)

Spend a little time reflecting on how your year has gone thus far. Try to focus on the things that have improved and how you've grown as a person and in your life journey. Reflect on your accomplishments and what you plan to do next. Take a moment to be unashamedly proud of yourself for everything you've done and for making it this far despite everything life throws at you.

Happy Strawberry Moon, witches! 🌕🍓

Further Reading:

Strawberry Moon: Full Moon in June 2023, The Old Farmer's Almanac

Strawberry Moon 2023: The Spectacular Spiritual Meaning of June's Full Moon, The Peculiar Brunette

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison

Image Source - Pesto and Margaritas

(If you're enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[murdockparker]

Foolish Endeavor - Part 8

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: To be, or not to be (a Bridgerton), that is the question. One that Mr. Benedict Bridgerton has yet to ask.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Mentions of sex, no actual smut, angst

A/N: it's a happy-sad chapter. that's all I gotta say mad lads

first part - previous part - next part

__

She hadn’t felt very well rested, not even the tiniest bit. No matter how tired she felt after last night’s escapades, the excitement that lingered in the air coursed through her veins, keeping her alert and awake for the entirety of the night. He hadn’t kept it much of a secret, not really.

Benedict Bridgerton was proposing. 

Today. 

While he practically proposed last night, bodies tangled together in a sweaty embrace, she knew a more formal question was coming later this morning or afternoon. It was only a matter of time before Benedict asked for her company, asked for her hand. She imagined he already discussed the details of their engagement, dowry and the like with her father before their visit to Aubrey Hall. Seeing as how her father couldn’t accompany them for the week and knowing how formal Benedict could be about situations just as this one.

A soft knock rang through the spacious room, followed by the entrance of Agnes, her lady’s maid. She was carrying a pitcher of fresh water and a rag, smiling lightly at the girl rolling in bed. 

“Good morning, miss,” Agnes said lovingly. She set the pitcher down on the desk, draping the cloth over the back of the chair. “I trust you slept well?”

“Of course,” she lied. “The beds here are divine, I reckon they’re stuffed with only the finest.”

“Oh yes,” Agnes nodded. “I’m sure the viscount has only the best in his home.”

“Did you sleep well, Agnes?”

“I slept just fine, my lady,” the maid said sweetly. “The staff’s lodgings are quite elegant. If I had half a mind, I would mention something to your mother…”

(Y/N) giggled, the sound dampening against the plushness of the bedding. “Consider it done, I’ll bring it up over tea.”

Agnes’ eyes lit up like a candle in the night—bright and ever glowing. She nodded softly before floating over to her lady’s bed to assist in her dressing. “I drew you a bath for this morning, I figured you may wish to take one after the exhausting day that was yesterday.” (Y/N)’s entire face flushed, the color creeping up from her neck. Surely the staff couldn’t have possibly heard anything from the study last eve, could they? “The carriage ride was much too hot for my liking, I myself washed up last evening.”

“Oh,” she coughed, patting her chest lightly. “Yes, I agree. Traveling in the summer months is always a hassle.”

“Should I set out your dressings for when you return, my lady?”

“Of course. That would be lovely.”

“Which one do you fancy for this morning?” Agnes asked, opening the wardrobe, now fitted out with the various silks and outfits they had packed for the week. Her eyes danced across the rainbow of colors before placing her hand on one. “I reckon Mr. Bridgerton will quite like this one."

“Agnes!” (Y/N) chided, suppressing a laugh.

“I’ll set it aside,” the maid hummed knowingly, placing the selected dress on the door to the wardrobe.

—

The dress Agnes had picked out was quite the stunning piece, the fanciest of the day dresses they had packed. The sleeves were almost entirely a thick lace, meeting the crook of her elbow with grace. Colored to match the sky on a summer’s day, the gown had matching white accents one could nearly mistake for clouds, a slightly darker azure pulled everything together on the bodice. It was the epitome of class, the finest handiwork once could find in the ton.

He thought she was breathtaking. 

He normally thought so, of course. This morning, however, she looked nearly as radiant as the sun. His sun. He knew it was going to be a good day, with her smiling as sweetly as she was. He had to restrain himself from reaching into his pocket and falling to his knee immediately, his better judgment getting the best of him. 

“Lady (Y/N),” Benedict greeted her, bowing lightly to appease the other eyes following them in the room. 

“Benedict,” she curtsied back. 

“Might you do me the honor of accompanying me on a promenade this morning?” He asked, brow arched up, his lovesick smirk ever apparent.

“Of course,” she nodded before turning to her side. “Though, we will need to find a chaperone—” 

“I’ll join you.”

“A walk could do me some good.”

Both the countess and dowager viscountess spoke in the same breath, flustered at the sudden attention on themselves. They both seemed too eager to join the happy couple this afternoon, for no reason in particular.

“You are both free to join us,” Benedict nearly laughed. “We are set to promenade around the gardens, I wish to enjoy your lovely flowers, Mother.”

“Oh yes,” (Y/N) nodded enthusiastically. “Lady Bridgerton, your gardens are quite the spectacle.”

Violet waved them off, nearly embarrassed. “Oh you two flatter me so terribly.”

“Oh but I have to agree, Violet. You simply must tell me where you found your florist,” the countess smiled. “Theodore would love the blooms you have out here.”

“Well, I hardly think they’re a secret,” Violet said, voice dropping to a murmur before leaning into the countess’ side. “But I’ll extend their information to you posthaste.”

The women giggled, both taken at the joy of the afternoon—Benedict and (Y/N) still in their own little world.

“Pall-mall is this afternoon,” Benedict said thoughtfully, extending his arm for his beloved to take. “I recall your proficiency at the game, has that changed?”

(Y/N) shook her head, beginning to walk with Benedict towards the gardens, mamas in tow. “No, of course not. If anything I simply have gotten even better than you recall.”

He let out a laugh, warm and thick like honey. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. Anthony suggested the match a day or so prior to your arrival, something about fond memories from childhood—” 

“Really? You’re sure he doesn’t wish to try and best his family to look good for his future bride?”

“Ah, the viscount would never dare use his family as a pawn for his marriage,” Benedict said seriously. “But, trying to best Daphne will be his greatest feat.”

“The duchess is joining us?” She asked, allowing Benedict to open the garden gate for her. He hummed.

“She would never dare miss an opportunity to lay claim to her rightful place as the best Bridgerton pall-mall player,” Benedict chuckled. “Well, I suppose she also wished to meet Miss Sharma, should Anthony get off of his sorry behind and actually propose…”

Violet Bridgerton loved her garden in Kent—her and her husband had a rather fondness to the country—leaving her gardens to be quite the sight to behold. The young couple spent many a day in the gardens in their youth, playing and chasing the other around. Last year, Anthony had commissioned a small fountain to be added for their mother's birthday, it was the new jewel of the grounds. 

It was the perfect place, Benedict had decided.

“Why do you think our mamas are following us so closely?” (Y/N) asked quietly, tightening her grip on Benedict’s arm.

“They’re pretending to be interested in the roses,” Benedict whispered, turning to look back at his mother and the countess. The women seemed flushed, their attention drawn a bit too closely at the blooms. “But I believe they’re waiting with bated breath for something extraordinary to happen."

“And what, pray tell, would they be waiting for, Mr. Bridgerton?” Her heart began to pound, surely the small babbling of the fountain did nothing to hide it.

A grin spread across his face, one that was lopsided and all-too-sweet, his gaze warm enough to set aflame. “Perhaps they’re waiting for…this?” He removed his arm from (Y/N)’s grip, slinking down to one knee. Benedict thanked any God who would listen he had the bright idea to practice the gesture before this moment, as it hopefully looked as graceful as it felt. With only a slightly shaking hand, he took her own.    

“Oh!” Lady Kent squealed from behind. Lady Bridgerton was quick to pull her close—as if to not ruin the moment. 

“Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you have been a constant at my side. Your friendship has been a balm on my worried heart for the many years I have had the pleasure of knowing you,” Benedict began, trying to keep his voice steady. “How lucky am I, to have found such a partner in my greatest friend? How lucky would I be, if that partner agreed to spend the rest of her days with me?”

“Benedict…” She had begun to cry. She had known he was proposing today, and yet, she still begun to cry.

“(Y/N),” Benedict repeated her name like a prayer, “will you do me the honor of making me half of the happiest pair the universe has ever seen? Will you marry me?”

A box suddenly appeared in his other hand, a glittering ring shining in the morning sun. It surely wasn’t a family ring, no, it looked to be brand new, like he had it made especially for her. Benedict had asked Lady Bridgerton about family rings but never quite found one that spoke to him—so he took matters into his own hands. 

A delicate cluster of pearls with shining sapphires, all adorned like a flower in bloom. He had been torn on the sapphires, but secretly, a part of him wished for her to have the staple Bridgerton color, blue, with her always. A small claim, a slightly possessive way for him to show she is his at all times. 

If she didn’t already have her answer before this moment, seeing Benedict on the ground, bearing his heart out to her in front of a beautiful scene—and their mamas—it couldn’t have come any easier. 

“Yes!” She squealed, falling to the ground to meet Benedict in an amorous embrace—dress be damned, society be damned.

He nearly fell over, arm steadily snaking its way around her waist, holding her tight against him. He knew he was close to tears, but seeing his love on the same precipice nearly sent him over the edge. “If our mamas weren’t looking…” Benedict whispered into her ear, holding her tight against him, his words a secret to her alone. 

“I simply don’t care,” (Y/N) murmured, turning his face towards her own, lips nearly attacking his. What started as a passionate celebration had melted into something more substantial—a far cry from any other kiss they had shared before. This was not just a kiss from a friend, a kiss from a lover, no, this was a kiss between a husband and wife. The passion was not lost on them, but it took perhaps a second too long to fully realize that their mothers were still very much watching.

“Ehem!” Lady Kent cleared her throat, cheeks rosy as the blooms beside her.

“Relax Mama,” (Y/N) giggled, pulling herself to her feet, assisting Benedict to reaching his own as well. “What is the worst thing to happen? Force us to marry faster?”

“I rather like the sound of that,” Benedict murmured, dusting off his pants. 

“Er, no, I suppose there’s nothing—” Lady Kent sighed, turning to Violet. “Should we petition for a speedy ceremony?”

“Oh hush,” Violet admonished, laughing lightly. “One kiss between betrothed is not a ruin. However,” she looked at the newly affianced couple with a narrow gaze, the one of a strict mother, “I would not make it a habit until you are wed.”

“Of course, Mother,” Benedict nodded, trying his very best to not laugh out loud. 

“My lady,” a butler had come up from behind the proud mothers. “The duchess has arrived.”

“Oh! Splendid,” Violet cooed. “Benedict, do see to it that you and your fiancée greet your sister, I am sure she would be most pleased at your news.”

“We shall inform the family before pall-mall,” Benedict said decidedly. “Just another reason to celebrate.”

“Just think,” Lady Kent sighed, turning to walk with Lady Bridgerton back to the estate. “By the end of the week you will have two sons set to be wed! A joyous celebration indeed.”

“If Anthony is truly engaged at the end of the week,” Benedict said quietly, words only meant for his fiancée to hear, “then the world has turned upside down.”

They both laughed. 

—

“Is Anthony still attached to the black mallet?” (Y/N) asked, arm in arm with her new fiancé. “I recall a near bloodbath for it the last time I played pall-mall with your family.”

“Far more than one would realize,” Benedict nodded. “One would suspect he carried and birthed the bloody thing…”

“Funny,” (Y/N) said. “He birthed the mallet? Here I thought he still had a stick up his—”

“(Y/N)!”

“What? I will not apologize for saying what I was thinking—and if I knew any better, you were too.”

“He’s been… a bit un-agreeable the last few weeks, regarding the whole notion of Miss Sharma and whatnot,” Benedict sighed.

“So you do not disagree.”

“He is my brother,” Benedict stated.

“Indeed,” (Y/N) hummed.

Even having descended these steps only two hours prior to their inevitable engagement, the yard had completely transformed. Shade and snacks had been put up for the spectators, hoops were currently being put in the ground and staff were carrying out the dreaded mallet container.

“What a lovely afternoon for pall-mall,” Lady Mary said.

“And a lovely afternoon to celebrate an engagement,” Lady Bridgerton added, looking directly at the happy couple. 

“Oh yes,” Lady Mary smiled. “Congratulations on the engagement, Lady Bridgerton, Lady Kent.”

“Save your congratulations for the ball in the next few days,” Lady Kent laughed. “I suspect it will be the talk of the ton anyhow.”

The older ladies laughed with one another. The younger adults began their trek to the mallet box, determination in each of their eyes. 

“Eloise, are you sure you do not wish to play?” Colin asked, turning to his younger sister.

“I have other matters to deal with,” she said sitting from the steps, nose in her book. “Besides, someone had to sit out so our guests could play…”

“I could have sat out—” Colin began.

“And the sky is green, Brother,” Benedict said, clapping his younger brother’s back. “Everyone knows you would’ve been a worse spoilsport if you sat out instead.”

“Perhaps Lady (Y/N) could have sat out, then?”

“You’d make my fiancée sit out?” Benedict gasped, clearly jesting. “She is to be your sister soon, Colin. It’s preposterous that you would even suggest such a thing!”

“Ben,” (Y/N) giggled, hand placed gently on his shoulder. “I do not think Colin truly meant it.”

“Congratulations, again,” Colin nodded towards the to-be-Bridgerton. “Why you wish to marry into this family is beyond me.”

“I fear I am still asking myself such a question,” she hummed, plainly ignoring Benedict’s souring expression. “But I am sure I’ll be reminded during our spirited game of pall-mall.”

“Reminded of what?” Daphne asked, walking with the Sharma sisters. She had been explaining the game in earnest to them.

“How much fun our family has playing a rousing game of pall-mall,” Colin said, shit-eating grin on his face. Anthony tried his best to ignore it, taking his attentions to Miss Sharma—the younger, not the elder.

“Shall we begin?” Anthony coughed, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“I shall pick first,” Colin said, reaching for the black mallet.

“No!” Anthony practically yelled, causing a shock to the group. “I-I mean, we pick based on alphabetical order.”

“So, by Bridgerton standards, eldest to youngest?” (Y/N) mused. Benedict huffed a laugh as his brothers began to fight.

“The only fair thing to do,” Daphne spoke up, ever the voice of reason, “is to let our invited guests choose their mallets and strike first.”

“Please, take your pick, Miss Edwina,” Anthony conceded, bowing to the younger Sharma. Edwina looked carefully over the mallets, eyes scanning over every color—almost as if she was afraid to pick the wrong one. She pointed decidedly to the blue one, Anthony grabbing it for her with haste. “An excellent choice.”

Kate wasted no time in choosing her mallet—black and foreboding. The mallet of death. 

“Would you look at that, Brother?” Benedict sniggered, clearly amused by Anthony’s annoyance. 

“Is this yours?” Kate asked. 

“Not at all. You’re welcome to it,” Anthony sighed.

“You near threatened to beat me the last time I touched—”

“You exaggerate,” Anthony fumed, eyes like daggers towards Colin.

“Are you the superstitious sort, Lord Bridgerton?” Kate asked, twirling the mallet like a prized trophy. “I know some men cannot perform without their familiar tools. Like a child with a blanket.”

“Oh I like her,” (Y/N) said softly, her words nearly lost amongst the guffaw of the Bridgerton family.

“I can play perfectly well with any mallet,” Anthony said.

“My sun, I do believe it is your pick,” Benedict said, clearing the laugh from his throat. She nodded, taking her claim on the lavender mallet. It seemed the most appealing and an easy color to spot from the grass. “Lavender is a fine color for you.”

“Shall we dilly dawdle all afternoon?” Colin sighed. “Or shall we…” 

It was like a hunt. Each of the playing Bridgertons tried to stake their claim on a mallet, all avoiding one in particular. Benedict grabbed a golden yellow, Colin choose green, Daphne a nice seafoam color, leaving Anthony with the pastel pink. 

“To the field of combat!” Daphne exclaimed, holding her mallet straight up in the air. 

Combat was an accurate descriptor. While it had been years since she had played pall-mall, even longer since she had played it with the Bridgertons, Lady (Y/N) found it refreshing. It nearly made her wonder if this could have been her life growing up—a lively life with siblings to bicker with and pick on. 

Regardless, it will be her life now, as soon as she marries Benedict. Soon she’d be a Bridgerton. Soon she’d have the family she’d always dreamt of. Siblings, children, the whole lot.

“I say, that was a good shot Lady (Y/N)!” Colin cheered, clapping politely at her latest hit. She had managed to knock Daphne’s ball near a cluster of bushes. “Always a win in my book to best Daph.”

“Oh hush,” Daphne rolled her eyes. “It was a bold move, I will concede to that, well done (Y/N).”

“Dropping her title, are we?” Benedict asked, stepping beside his sister. “You of all people know better etiquette, Your Grace.”

“And what is better etiquette than calling my newest sister by her given name?” Daphne sang, hopping along to her ball. She may be married and a new mother with one on the way, but she still was very much a girl at heart. 

“I truly don’t mind, Benedict,” (Y/N) insisted. “It won’t matter in a few weeks, anyhow.”

“Perhaps you won’t mind this, then?” Colin said. In a blink of an eye, her purple ball went flying towards Daphne’s. 

“Not at all, Colin,” (Y/N) curtsied. “You only made the game more fun, I would have been crestfallen if you were taking it easy on me.”

“Never,” he scoffed. 

“Exactly right,” (Y/N) said, following Daphne over to her ball.

“I’m happy for you. She’s a catch, Ben,” Anthony said, pulling his younger brother out of his love-sick daze. Benedict nodded, not fully listening. “Everyone suspected it to happen, since we were young.”

“I wish someone would have told me sooner,” Benedict jested, “it would have saved us both some time, I manage.”

“I believe Father had made a joke about it once before,” Anthony said. “But, I assume your head was too stuck in the clouds to hear it.”

“Father did, truly?” Benedict’s brow raised. “He was rather observant, I suppose I do not doubt it.”

“You know, I must hand it to you, Brother,” Colin said, cutting in with his brothers. “Courting Lady (Y/N) was a feat I’m surprised you pulled off.”

“Do you not think we are a suited match?” Benedict asked. “Am I not charming enough? Not handsome enough?”

“You are a Bridgerton, of course you are enough,” Colin said.

“I think he means he is just surprised you managed to snag the daughter of an earl,” Anthony said simply. “You are a second son, it is nearly unheard of.”

“She is more than that—”  

“Of course she is,” Anthony said, raising his hand in defense, the other on his pink mallet. “She is your greatest friend and soon to be your wife—of course she is more than just the earl’s daughter.”

“She is my sun,” Benedict said simply. 

Anthony and Colin gave each other a look. “Ever the poet,” Colin chuckled. “You could have stopped at ‘she’s more than that’.”

She had been trying to strategize how best to get her purple ball back to the next wicket. Colin had sent it rather far from the next target, but it was no matter. She was determined to get it back into play—to show the Bridgertons she could roll with the punches. A small wave was sent her direction, one attached to a rather love-sick man, tall and handsome with a wicked grin. 

She waved back, an equally lovesick smile on her lips. 

“How fortunate,” Anthony noted. “Now your son will inherit the earldom, yes?”

“I…” Benedict’s regard turned back to his brother. How easily he was distracted by Lady (Y/N). “Yes, I suppose that is what’s expected of our union, what her parents expect of us.”

“Just think,” Colin said boisterously, “two titles in one family!”

“A viscount and an earl, both Bridgertons,” Anthony cooed, much like a child. “Well done brother! What a success for our family—Father would be proud.”

“I understand the sudden interest in Lady (Y/N) now, Brother,” Colin said, balancing on his mallet. “It rather makes sense, does it not?” 

“I think Father would be more proud that I am marrying for love,” Benedict corrected, growing a bit annoyed at his brothers jesting. 

“Love? Oh yes,” Anthony waved. “Sure, sure. But the earldom? How lucky you’ve bagged her, Brother. Bridgerton, Earl of Kent!”

Benedict forced a laugh. 

“Well, that is not—” 

A purple ball rolled next to his feet, stopping just before his toes. 

She had looked like she had seen a ghost, Lady (Y/N). Her grip tightened on her mallet, white gloves contrast to the purple. “I think I shall cut out for the day.”

The Bridgerton brothers were silent, Benedict inching towards her.

“(Y/N)—”

“I am in need of a respite,” she said, not looking back. “Too much sun.”

Benedict felt his blood run cold, his hand glued to the air. Every sense of his was fleeting, his sight blurring, his mouth running dry. 

“You dolt,” Daphne admonished, smacking her second eldest brother as she came upon them. “You must talk to her.”

“I-I will,” Benedict nodded, not knowing what else to do.

“Well not now,” Daphne sighed. “Give her a moment to collect her thoughts. A conversation now could be… explosive.”

“Is the game finished, my lord?” Edwina pranced over, brows furrowed.

“Ah, yes,” Anthony cleared his throat. “Well, no. Lady (Y/N) and Benedict have cut out, isn’t that right?”

Benedict nodded numbly, dropping his mallet to the grass.

“The game is still set—minus yellow and purple,” Anthony said stoically, rightfully ignoring his brother heading towards the estate. 

Feet like lead, every step he took felt like a death sentence, a man on his way to execution.

Somehow, he much preferred that thought.

__

He knocked at her door, three hours later. 

For two hours he sobbed and for an hour he drank, trying to wrap his head around how he’d approach this, how he’d approach her. He had pressed a wet rag to his face. Helps with the puffiness, a staff member told him. He hoped for it to be true. 

He knocked again.

“Go away.”

Benedict sighed, leaning up against the wood. “I’m afraid that’s unlikely. We must speak.”

“I am not opening the door.”

“And I am not leaving.”

A pause. 

Then, the lock clicked. 

The man took a deep breath, preparing for every possible outcome. He was never much of a planner, but in this very instance? He wish he had clairvoyance, a crystal ball perhaps, to see how this would end. Benedict could only hope it ended with them at the end of the aisle, hand in hand at the altar. 

“You would have stayed out there all night,” she said simply as he entered the room. She had resigned herself to standing in the dead center of the bedchambers, her arms crossed.

“Yes,” Benedict said. “I would have.”

“Stubborn,” she scoffed, turning towards the window. 

He took the moment to shut the door—they were engaged, no need for propriety now. “We are expected at dinner this evening,” Benedict said quietly. “To celebrate the engagement.”

“Naturally.”

“You do not wish to go to dinner,” Benedict surmised.

“Naturally,” she repeated, her shoulders tensing.

“You must eat—” 

“I would rather starve.”

“That is a bit ridiculous,” Benedict scoffed. “Surely you are not that angry.”

“You do not get to tell me how angry I am allowed to be,” (Y/N) said, finally turning around. “If I do not wish to show face at dinner, I will not show face.”

Benedict’s gaze softened on her, finally seeing her face. He would never assume anything about her, it would make for a terrible habit for the years to come, but if he had to make an educated guess, she had been crying just as much as he had.

He wished he had a rag to offer.

“I apologize—”

“For which instance?” (Y/N) asked cooly. “For earlier? For dictating my feelings?”

“The first—both, I suppose,” Benedict ran a hand through his hair. Perhaps he was losing strands from the stress. “Look, (Y/N)—” 

“Do you take me for a fool?”

“What?”

“You have known me for many years,” (Y/N) said. “Do you take me for a fool?”

He had the fleeting thought of mentioning how poorly she played cards, how foolish her tactics were. The only time he’d ever call her a fool. He decided he’d be more the fool if he so much as loosened his lips on that thought. “No.”

“I do not need you to explain yourself, you and your brothers made it quite clear this afternoon,” (Y/N) tightened her arms, nearly folding in on herself. “Quite clear on your true intentions with the earldom.”

“My true intentions? My only intention is and ever was to marry you. Absolutely none of this came from the title.”

“Is that why you suddenly had an interest in me? To secure another title of nobility for your family’s lineage?”

“Of course not! I have loved you since I knew what love truly was, (Y/N). It did not happen overnight.”

Frustrated, she began to pace about the room, fire crackling nearly in time with her beating heart. The air was tense, thick. Shadows begun dancing from the flames, painting themselves onto the bookshelves with ease and without hesitation. Their furrowed brows were prominent against the flickering, set in stone. 

“‘Did not happen overnight’,” (Y/N) scoffed. “You had the opportunity when I debuted seasons ago, why now? Why not then?”

“I was fooling myself,” Benedict pressed a hand against his chest. “I know how this may look, my sun—”

“You,” she cut him off, eyes hardened. “Do not get to call me that. Not right now.”

Benedict took a step back. She was dead serious. He could only recall one other time in their lives that she had such a ferocity to her character—it had involved her father discarding a handful of books from her own personal collection, resulting in her not speaking to him for the better part of a month. If he thought her looks could kill then, Benedict Bridgerton was expecting to have his funeral by the end of the night.

“You misunderstand,” Benedict began carefully, as if to not break any eggshells. “My brothers—you know how they are. Anthony was merely making a joke.”

“It was in poor taste.”

“I agree!” Benedict exclaimed. “My laughter then, it was one of the forced kind, one I save only for the deeply unpleasant conversations I tend to have during the season.”

She stood silent for a moment.

“Yet you laughed."

“I… did. My su—love, I apologize from the deepest parts of me. I wish to marry you, earldom or not. Titles mean nothing, but you? Darling, you mean everything to me."

“So it was just a coincidence that you decided to show up at my door the morning after I shared the truth of my family’s wishes for my future match? Surely you do not take me for a fool.”

Benedict sighed, feeling the anger bubbling in his chest. “While you may have shared that information, the only thing I could even begin to think about since you had left that afternoon was that I had a chance!”

She blinked. 

“Imagine, loving your best friend, watching her and admiring her from afar, knowing she’s destined to be with and marry another. Marry some… some duke or titled man, someone every mama would be floored to have pair with their daughter,” Benedict felt as if he were on stage, his only audience watching him intently. “But to fathom you’d ever marry me? A second son? Surely you could consider me mad for ever entertaining that, for even ever dreaming of it.”

“You have no idea the type of man I wished to have married,” (Y/N) said, her voice cooler than ice. Calculated, perhaps. “Had you been honest from the start—”

“And ruin our friendship?” Benedict laughed, no humor found in his voice. “Lose you? The greatest thing to come of my time on this planet? No. Perish the thought.”

“You’re a fine actor,” (Y/N) said slowly, trying to keep her composure. “Because from the way I see it? You found a way to ensure a new title for the Bridgerton name—woo your ‘greatest friend’ and effectively ruin her by taking her on your brother’s desk!”

“Do not make it seem like you had no say in the matter—”

“I loved you!” (Y/N) screamed, finally reaching her breaking point. “I thought you would be the man I would marry! I wanted you, Benedict, more than I ever wanted anyone.”

“Loved…?” Benedict felt smaller than dirt. “You do not mean—”

“I will still marry you,” (Y/N) continued. “Only because you have effectively trapped me—what if I am to be with child?” She nearly laughed at the absurdity. “Seeing as you had the grace to not only ruin me, but finish in me—”

“Is that what you think?” Benedict broke, his voice quavering. “You think that I tried to trap you into a marriage to ensure my family a new title? That I had the thought—the foresight—to try and make you with child to give you no other options? In no way you could think so little of me—”   

“And yet here we are,” her voice was like venom. "Perhaps you will have your Bridgerton earl after all."

He dared not speak a word.

“I need some time to think. Mother and I are going back to Mayfair—do not follow us.” (Y/N) left the room, slamming the door so hard one might have assumed it cracked. 

Much like his heart.

__

TAGLIST

@nikkisilassheep, @cavghtbythewind, @chaotic-onigiri, @440mxs-wife , @mymyma , @perdynerd , @wotcherboo , @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake , @babyhoneystvles , @korol-lantsov , @riddlerloveb0t 

[esoteric-chaos]

Midsummer Masterpost - Spoonie witch friendly

Midsummer, also known as the Summer Solstice.  This day is the longest day of the year. Typically lands around June 21st  (December 21st in the Southern Hemisphere). 

Many cultures around the world celebrate the Summer Solstice in their own ways. Marking a very important event for most.  

Fire is the main association with this holiday as it marks the sun. This holiday also marks the end of the planting season.

Midsummer Correspondences

Colours

Green

Gold

Light Blue

Yellow

Red

Orange

White

Herbal

Basil

Bay Leaves

Lavender

Mint

Rosemary

Thyme

Chamomile

Mugwort

Vervain

Rose

Honeysuckle

St. John’s Wort

Yarrow

Calendula

Sunflower

Marigold

Jasmine

Oak

Cinnamon

Elder

Edibles

Honey

Berries

Cheese

Lemonade

Lemons

Oranges

Tea

Honey cakes

Mead, Ale, Wine

Ice Cream

Animals

Bees

Cow

Butterfly

Dragonfly

Horse

Summer birds (Wren, Robin, Hawks, Eagles, Swallows, etc)

Crystals

Emerald

Jade

Sunstone

Orange or Green Calcite

Carnelian

Citrine

Amber

Tiger’s Eye

Diamond

Pearl

Quartz

Ruby

Garnet

Metals

Symbols

Sun

Fire, Bonfire, Balefire

Sun Wheel

Sunflower

Phoenix

Fae

Herbal

Summer flowers

Rose

Spirals

Spiritual meanings

Love

Life

Light

Passion

Creativity

Healing & Health

Growth

Empowerment

Lust

Fertility

Power

Success

Prosperity

Warmth

Solar energy

Scents

Lavender

Sage

Lemon

Rose

Mint & Spearmint

Jasmine

Rosemary

Verbena

Coconut

Orange

Gods / Goddesses / Spirits

Gaia

Aestas (Roman)

Aine (Celtic)

Brigantia (Celtic)

Venus (Roman)

Aphrodite (Greek)

Apollo (Roman)

Apollon (Greek)

Zeus and Thor (Thunder Gods)

Ra (Egyptian)

Greenman

Oak King

Anuket (Egyptian)

Benten (Japanese)

Any other sun Gods/Goddesses

Need some suggestions to celebrate? I got you covered.

High energy celebrations 

Bonfires

Fae offerings

Create Fae garden

Weave flower crowns

Perform a phoenix ritual

Create a  Besom

Dance and sing

Leave offerings to solar Gods/Goddesses

Divination work

Any solar energy workings

Low energy celebrations 

Ritual bath

Light a candle in honor

Watch the sunset

Meditate with solar energy

Pray to solar Gods/Goddesses

Create solar water

No spoon celebrations 

If you have a sun lamp bask in it

Watch the sunset

Greet the sun at sunrise

Tell yourself kind words

Remember that it’s okay if you cant do much while you are unwell. That you come first and you simply existing is a blessing.

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.

[ubejamjar]

B A S I C S

Name: Ajisai Kawanami

Nicknames:

Aji - Thancred and Alisaie

Aj (not AJ) - Aymeric occasionally in private frequently if they are both inebriated

Little star - Parents. Ajisai uses this as an endearment for children.

Age: Early 30s

Nameday: 7th Sun of the Sixth Astral Moon

Race: Raen Au Ra

Gender: Female

Orientation: Bisexual

Profession: Healer, Warrior of Light

P H Y S I C A L   A S P E C T S

Hair: Naturally straight and deep blue, with lavender at the ends. She keeps it short as a matter of practicality and she doesn’t really know how to care for long hair. It grew out between Heavensward and Stormblood but she cut it just before going to that first meeting in Gridania.

Some kids taught her how to braid and she’s been doing it ever since.

Eyes: Orange-citrine with black limbal rings

Skin: Copper, think Southeast Asian; her scales are white

Tattoos/scars: Ajisai has many, many scars that she keeps covered because she wants to look respectable. One does not simply live a life as a soldier, pirate, and hero and avoid scars. I haven’t decided exactly what scars she has because I haven’t looked into putting them on her.

F A M I L Y

Parents:

-> Kana Kawanami Mother, samurai, former rice farmer and sake brewer, Doman Resistance Fighter.

Currently: Alive and fighting on the Gyr Abanian border under Lord Hien’s command.

-> Tatsuo Kawanami Father, geomancer, former rice farmer and sake brewer, conscripted Imperial healer, presumed dead.

Currently: Alive in Dalmasca (maybe?)

Siblings: None, though she thinks of Lyse, Alphinaud and Alisaie as her little brother and sisters. She adores Thancred as a brother, Y’shtola as an sister.

Grandparents: Murasaki Grandparents: Samurai who lived in Monzen; Kana's estranged parents. They died fighting in the rebellion. They never knew that Kana married, had a child, and lived in Namai.

Takemura: A priest at Shisui who raised Tatsuo as his own son. He was old already when Tatsuo was a child and long dead by present day.

In-laws and Other: The Fortemps: She treats them as extended family though their relationships are complicated. Despite Edmont's fondness for her, Ajisai feels he still holds her responsible for Haurchefant's death.

She is unmarried and unattached though she has romantic feelings for Aymeric (which I wrote an essay about)

Pets: None at the moment

S K I L L S

Abilities: Marksmanship - Great with a gun; refuses to use one ever again

Field Medicine - Aside from her healing magic and botanical knowledge, she is trained in Garlean combat surgery.

Life Sketching - Likes to draw everything she sees in her journals. She carries two at any given time -- one is personal, the other is meant as a gift for Aymeric but who knows if she’ll ever actually give it to him because she wrote a love letter in there.

Hobbies: Reading, specifically books about law and history; astromancy and divination; tea making; drawing; talking entirely too much to strangers; ruin diving; research into ancient civilizations

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Compassion She genuinely cares about the people around her— she wants to do the most good she can do for as many people as she can. It isn’t just about penance, she likes seeing people happy and well.

Most Negative Trait Healing Hubris After years of harsh study and field training, Ajisai believes herself to be the best healer to the point she will not trust other people to heal herself, her companions, or loved ones. She spirals whenever she’s forced to confront the possibility someone might be beyond her abilities (like Haurchefant)

L I K E S

Colors: Summer sky blue, plum purple, lavender

Smells: Cinnamon and clove, sugared pecans, vanilla lavender, freshly baked cookies, pine needles, campfire smoke

Textures: Rough paper, plush blankets, river smooth stones, soft fur

Drinks: Ishgardian tea, hot cocoa, warm milk with honey and cinnamon

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Only to be social

Drinks: Only drinks with Aymeric or alone. She drank heavily after the Vault, along with her sleeping potion use.

Drugs: Used sleeping potions to force herself to sleep and was considering using more… illicit substances to numb the pain before she started napping in the Congregation.

Mount Issuance: Story-wise, Ajisai didn’t join a Grand Company. She just.. wouldn’t leave one military to join another. She took porters and aetherytes until she got Pillion from Haurchefant. She calls him Pillion because Haurchefant said she could ‘ride pillion’, not realizing ‘pillion’ referred to the passenger behind the rider.

Been Arrested: Yes, probably for disturbing the peace in Limsa. Many tavern brawl taken too far, maybe some petty theft and other minor crimes before she got her shit together.

Tagged by: @paintedscales ❤️

Dragging these people into getting arrested with Ajisai: @oh-yeah-no @otherworldseekers @corsair-kovacs @amalthea-felsblood @thewitchofelpis @thevikingwoman @disciple-of-frost @viiioca @sasslett @gatheredfates @pumpkinmagekupo @starres-stuff @khaiens @aislingsurrow

If you were already tagged, consider yourself double-tagged or triple-tagged or—

[greenwitchcrafts]

Sage

Salvia officinalis

Known as: Common sage, green sage, garden sage, meadow sage, culinary sage & true sage

Related plants: A member of the of the mint family Lamiaceae that includes plants such as basil, mint, rosemary, sage, savory, marjoram, oregano, hyssop, thyme, lavender & perilla as well as catnip, salvia, bee balm, wild dagga & oriental motherwort.

Parts used: Leaves & stems

Habitat and cultivation: This evergreen subshrub is native to the Mediterranean region with it's mild to cool, rainy winters & warm to hot, dry summers.

Plant type: Perennial

Region: Zone 5-8 your sage will grow as a hardy perennial. However in the humid climates of zones 9 & farther south, sage is usually an annual, as it does not easily tolerate summer heat & humidity.

Harvest: Harvest lightly in the first year to ensure the plant grows fully. After the first year, be sure to leave a few stalks so that the plant can rejuvenate in the future & If fully established, one plant can be harvested up to three times in one season.

Planting tips: Plant in full sun & plants should be two feet apart. Sage should be planted in well draining soil like a sandy or loamy soil with good drainage. Wet soils can cause rot and be fatal to the plant. The easiest and best way to start sage is from a small plant, but you can also sow seeds up to two weeks before the last frost date.

Medicinal information: Taking sage by mouth seems to improve memory and thinking skills in healthy adults & taking it for four weeks can improve menopause symptoms. One study found that drinking tea made from sage both raised antioxidant defenses and lowered LDL or “bad” cholesterol. It also could be used for pain after surgery, lung cancer, sore throat, sunburn, and many other conditions. Sage leaves have been used in traditional medicine as a treatment for diabetes.

Cautions: Sage is possibly unsafe when taken in high doses or for a long time due to a chemical called thujone. Too much thujone can cause seizures and damage the liver and nervous system. Thujone can also bring on a menstrual period, which could cause a miscarriage so taking sage during pregnancy is not advised. It may also reduce milk production while chest feeding.

Magickal properties

Gender: Masculine

Planet: Jupiter

Element: Air

Deities: Chiron, Consus, Jupiter, Obatala & Zeus

Magickal uses:

• Use the leaves for tea for communion of Jupiter or in any workings involved with the planet & grounding

• Burn to find clarity & wisdom while asking difficult questions

• Write a wish on Sage leaf and burn it to release your intention

• Place a Sage leaf in your wallet to attract money

• Include in feminine fertility spells to boost your chances of success

• Add Sage oil incense or herbs to any spell to temper the results with wisdom

• Burn during a funeral & memorial to facilitate healthy grief and bonding with the spirits of those who passed on

• Use spells to alleviate grief & steady emotions

• Put in a satchet to carry from protection from negative energies & influences

• Burn to cleanse your home, clear negative energies & increase your intuition

• Rub sage on your forehead before divination to increase the accuracy of your results

• Pick twelve leaves at midnight on Christmas Eve to see a vision of your future husband(without damaging the bush)

• Write your desire on a sage leafe & place it under your pillow for three days. If you dream of your desire, it will soon materialize. If not, bury the sage.

[lanaevyssmoved]

OC + Random Associations

tagged by @cetra , @sleepsvessel & @bootheminiaturegiantspacehamster thank you ^_^

Animal

Afhiri sea slugs, isopods (dairy cow and zebra), geckos and other various reptiles, cats, small birds, musteloids (particularly raccoons and red pandas), viverrids, japanese raccoon dogs, opossums Candor lions, various eagles (wedge-tailed, golden, crowned), hawks, swans and geese, bighorn rams, crocodillians, sea turtles, elephants, animals that use sun compass orientation Cirok corvids (raven, crow), dogs (rottweiler, doberman, pinscher, greyhound), venomous black snakes, scorpions, spiders (particularly trapdoor spiders and sicarius), bats, black caiman, sharks

Colors

Afhiri pastels! pink, yellow, orange, green, blue, white, black Candor changes depending on form but in general purple, blue, red, yellow, orange, gold, brown, white, black Cirok black, grey, white - absolutely no Colour (thanks to booboo i now think of like toxic waste green when i think of cirok too)

Month

Afhiri September Candor August Cirok November

Songs

Afhiri tapi tapi - tempura kidz fear. moe shop and fun - sir sly. sir sly's vibe is way off for afhiri but the lyrics were written for her Candor a sun coloured shaker - yndi halda and (spring) this was your place - sunlight ascending Cirok jouska - evenS (probably favourite song of all time btw) and i come with knives - IAMX

Number

Afhiri two/2 Candor three/3 Cirok four/4

Plants

Afhiri celandine, sunflower, pink tulip, daisy Candor bay tree, gladiolus, heliotrope, rose Cirok chives, anemone, begonia, deadly nightshade

Scents

Afhiri fresh morning, grass, dirt, cotton candy, bubblegum Candor cedar, musk, sandalwood, the ocean, burning  Cirok decay, death, rot, overwhelmingly of resin

Gemstone

Afhiri tugtupite Candor meliphanite Cirok magnetite

Time of day

Afhiri sunrise Candor midday Cirok night

Season

Afhiri summer Candor summer Cirok winter

Places

Afhiri taverns, meadows, by rivers and lakes Candor monasteries, temples, places of worship Cirok the dank, cold and forgotten, the forbidden

Food

Afhiri sweet things, nothing good for you Candor warm meals Cirok raw meat

Drinks

Afhiri sugary sweet drinks, energy drinks Candor various teas (green, oolong, herbal, black) Cirok piping hot black coffee

Element

Afhiri air Candor fire Cirok water

Seasonings

Afhiri garlic, ginger, cinnamon Candor paprika, turmeric, bay leaves Cirok dried chives, cloves, saffron

Sky

Afhiri the most beautiful sunny cloudless summer sky Candor a colourful golden orange, red, and purple with light cloud cover Cirok stratus clouds, grey, calm and quiet

Weather

Afhiri warm day with lots of sun and a gentle breeze Candor blazing hot summers day with minimal to no wind Cirok cold winters day with fog and light snow

Magical power

Afhiri manipulative magic that makes someone act against their own will, anything that makes them laugh or dance. also the magical power of Insults Candor holy smites, blinding lights and divine energy Cirok phasing into the realm of the dead to walk partly as a ghost

Weapons

Afhiri shortsword and dagger combo, dual hand crossbows Candor mace and shield, longbow, floating/flying greatsword Cirok dual daggers, throwing knives, poisons and venoms

Candy/Sweets

Afhiri cotton candy, bubblegum, and i designed her with fruit salad in mind! Candor spicy roasted pecans, maple roasted sweet potatoes, sea salt dark chocolate Cirok liquorice, black jack, toxic waste

Method of long distance travel

Afhiri roadtrip in a classic volkswagen camper van Candor flying Cirok underground trains

Artstyle

Afhiri impressionism, abstract expressionism, street art, dadaism, CoBrA and fauvism Candor baroque and classicism Cirok optical art and minimalism

Fear

Afhiri of the self, of emotional pain, of returning home Candor of imperfection, of failure, of not being worthy Cirok of being seen, of death, of vulnerability

Mythological creature

Afhiri azeban, mujina, nymph Candor chalkydri, phoenix, psychopomp Cirok tsuchigumo, black dog, gargoyle

Piece of stationery

Afhiri a childs box of crayons, dairy Candor fountain pen, ruler Cirok ink, letter opener

Three Emojis

Afhiri 🤡🍀🪈 Candor ☄️🎇🪽 Cirok 🕷️♟️🔪

Celestial body

Afhiri the moon Candor the sun Cirok black dwarf

THIS TOOK ME FOREVER GUYS... TWO DAYS. I WORKED ON IT FOR HOURS. i hope........ its worth it <3

tagging @cetra @dekariosgale @courierseis @euryalex @hibernationsuit @jerichoes @vanoefucks @captaintiny @gwynbleidd @arduath @rcpunzel @avallachs @fuckitwebhaal @hexdruid @sovereign-spaw @galesgrandad @thefathersbride @dandeyrain @doggybone @swanfey @voerman @full---ofstarlight @chaos-storm @covenscribe @raphaelsboudoir @simtalics @kymal @graynstairs @neonbutchery @hungryblackbird @moxley @thlix @isayashai @darlinghowl @astarionsfordf150 @moon-jun @lovaboy @ratscrap @picklepals @crazy-lazy-elder-sims @rigaudon @neosunbrella @sternenstaub28 @centipisde @kirkwall @lusus--naturae

[artemis-potnia-theron]

How I perceive different deities' energies: (pt. 2)

(based on personal experiences)

Bast 🐈‍⬛: Velvet. Roses. Incense. Aloe vera. Coconut milk. An enchanted vapor that fills the room like a fog, and suddenly its like I've known you for centuries. Light footsteps against wood floor. The humid steam of a sauna. Hot rocks against skin. An abundance of flowers; bouquets from the soul. Black mirrors and purple cystals.

Skadi 🗻: Breathing in winter air. Sharp and crisp within my lungs. Goose bumps. Cloud puffs of breath on a frigid morning. Wolves calling to each other. Dandelions. The whirl of an arrow loosed from its bow. Freshly fallen snow. Thick boots. Leather.

Fenrir 🐺: Righteous fury. Red behind the eyes. A pounding in my chest. An ancient drumb beat. Raw, red meat. Satiated hunger. An ache in my legs like I've been sprinting for a lifetime. Bone shards. The rage of the wronged. A long-fought battle. Bittersweet victory.

Freyja 🏵: My aunt's house. Plush fabric. A banquet. Cherry wine. Waves of gold. A concealed dagger. Calla lilies. Tough love and long embraces. Embroidered silk tapestries. A jewel encrusted mirror. Rosemary. Sun-catchers. Lace.

Kybele 🦁: Mountain mist. Echoing laughter. A voice that sings from somewhere just over the horizon. Dawn breaking. Roasted meat. Whiskey. Frenized dance at dusk. Breathing hard, almost panting. A sting. A balm. Cornflower. Daisies. Queen Anne's lace.

Inanna 🌟: A blue, purple light somewhere in the night. The brightest star in the sky. A river that flows between her and I and you and waves of souls that came before us. A beckoning song and a voice that comes from the heavens. An rare orchid.

Demeter 🌾: Divine rage and divine love. Wind through fields of wheat. Sun-dried tomatoes. Corn boiling in the pot. Hot summer wind. Dried grass. Being carried to my room as a child while I fell asleep. A sweet ache. A mother's touch. Trust, and a torrent of fury when that trust is broken.

Ereshkigal 🦉: Damp earth. Echoes. Owl talons. Quiet as a tomb and breathless whispers. A fluttering of wings in pitch black. Something dancing at the corner of my eye. Strength. Peace. Sterness. Beauty like the cosmos. She demands respect from every tounge.

Persephone 🥀: A funeral shroud. Bioluminescent fungi. Sweet, overripe fruit. Flowers growing from a corpse. Bones in bird nests. A hand clasping mine in the night. The smell of rain. Learning to live with my grief. A fate I no longer run from.

Cailleach Bheur ❄️: Fennel tea. Blizzard air. A lit cabin hearth while the storm rages outside. An heirloom quilt over my shoulders. Quiet. Contemplative. Resolutely austere. She knows all the answers, but she will have her silence. Burning coals. Shepherd's pie. Baked nuts. Glowing silver.

[thewitcheslibrary]

Elements of energy work

Earth-

It signifies stability, material items, and finances, and it regulates tangible objects such as our bodies, homes, cars, personal belongings, and sense of touch.

Earth traits include groundedness, manifestation, resourcefulness, safety, growth and growing things, health, financial issues, solidity, and a connection to nature and the world around us.

Altar tools to represent-

herbs

ceramics

pentacle

Tarot representation-

pentacles

Time-

midnight

winter

Plants and herbs-

Dark dry woody roots,

ground veg,

grains

Crystals-

Hematite

smokey quartz

jasper

black tourmaline

Tigers eye

petrified wood

Agate

jet

Planets and zodiacs associated with-

Saturn

venus

Taurus

capricorn

virgo

Magick uses-

Prosperity

manifesting

grounding

abundance

health

Protection

herbalism

elementals/fae (not recommended to work with unless you know what you're doing)

Kitchen magick

Geomancy

runes

Bone divination

Air-

Air signifies communication, intellect, and everything related to the mind, including imagination, thoughts, memories, and knowledge. Air regulates gaseous stuff, including the atmosphere, winds, weather, and the sense of smell.

Air attributes include our inner dialect of thoughts, the interchange of ideas in interpersonal communication, and the clarity with which we communicate.

Altar tools for air-

Athame

smoke

bells

feathers

tarot for air-

swords

Crystals to represent air-

Clear quartz

labradorite

flourite

calcite

selenite

kyanite

Iolite

apophyllite

Time associated with air-

Spring time

dawn

Plants and herbs-

anything warm and moist

anything with aerials

Planets and Zodiac signs-

Mercury

Uranus

Gemini

Libra

Aquarius

Magick uses-

Astrology

divination

Astral travel

communication

purification

focus

travel

visualisation

channeling

breathwork

smoking (smoke cleansing)

Fire-

Fire symbolises activity, creativity, passion, and vigour. It oversees physical energy and everything associated to it, including heat, light, electricity, motion, sight, and energetic impulses.

Leadership, personal power, will, adventure, inspiration, and the ability to complete tasks are all examples of fire attributes. The element of fire promotes ambition and brilliance.

Altar tools-

dagger/athame

candles

tarot associations-

wands

crystal associations-

Lava rock

citrine

bloodstone

fire opal

ruby

fire agate

carnelian

sunstone

obsidian

garnet

time-

midday

summer

Plants and herbs-

anything hot

thorny

stingy

stimulating

Planets and zodiacs-

mars

sun

jupiter

Aries

leo

Sagittarius

Magick uses-

transformation

will

power/force

masculinity

energy building

evocation

protection

strength

creativity

sex magick

water-

Water symbolises our emotional nature, intuition, fertility, and sense of taste. It is also tied to our relationships and interactions with others. Water regulates all liquid stuff and everything connected to bodies of water.

Water attributes include emotional equilibrium, empathy, gut instincts, and psychic skills.

Altar tools-

shells

chalice

mirrors

tarot-

cups

time-

dusk

autumn

Plants and herbs-

anything cooling

anything moist

any plants you find growing near water

Crystals-

moonstone

turquoise

rose quartz

chalcedony

amazonite

aquamarine

lapis lazuli

kunzite

Planets and zodiac-

moon

neptune

pluto

cancer

Scorpio

Pisces

Magick uses:

mediumship

hydromancy

water scrying

relationships

femininity

healing

lunar magic

dream work

subconscious

tea ceremonies

love

alchemy

Spirit-

Because spirit is not tangible, its correspondences differ from those of the physical components. Planets, tools, and other objects may be associated with it by various systems, although these associations are significantly less standardised than those of the other four elements. The element of spirit has various names. The most popular are spirit, ether or aether, and quintessence, which is Latin for "fifth element."

There is no universal symbol for spirit, however circles are prevalent. Eight-spoked wheels and spirals are also used to symbolise spirit. Spirit connects the physical and spiritual realms. In cosmological conceptions, the spirit is the intermediary substance between the physical and heavenly realms. Within the microcosm, the spirit serves as the link between the body and the soul.

Invoke your god or goddess. This can be accomplished by looking into their correspondences and making sacrifices or burning suitable incense, for example. If you discover a chant you enjoy, you may utilise it as well, or focus on this god, welcoming the message they wish to convey to you.

Practice divination! This is one of the most effective techniques to connect with the spiritual dimension. It allows you to bypass your conscious mind, which sometimes prevents us from receiving subconscious instructions. Whether you use tarot, a pendulum, or runes, calling on spirit or a specific god can help you connect with this element while performing divination.

Keep a dream notebook. We frequently receive messages in our sleep that we quickly forget unless we write them down. When we sleep, our conscious mind is not functioning, leaving us more receptive to receiving messages from Spirit. To interpret the dreams, become familiar with common symbolism and interpret them instinctively.

Draw, paint, or colour a mandala. This is a style of meditation derived from the Buddhist and Hindu practices of Tantra. Mandalas became popular in the New Age movement after Carl Jung presented them as a tool to examine the subconscious, and they can now be found almost anywhere, including adult colouring books.

[astreiants-archive]

a sapphic lit primer 🌸

also known as, an opportunity to insist you read my favourites

if you’ve ever found yourself wanting to read more sapphic books, but not quite sure where to start, let this be the post for you! if you’re looking for even more sapphic books, i hope you find something in here too.

there are a few books on here i’ve not read, that i wanted to include to raise awareness of them, more than anything. those are marked by *. as such, you will probably also see a fair few more well known books and authors missed off (but i promise i know about them!).

this is not meant to be at all exhaustive! it’s a collection of sapphic books that i’ve read and would rec, meaning there are still tons more out there. & you can find some of those more at @sapphicreadsdb​, readsrainbow (which i co-run with @tenderpotter), sapphiclitbot on twitter & my list of every sapphic book i’ve read.

as ever, this was meant to be a relatively short post. haha.

(i promise i did put links on this post, but for some reason those aren’t working on the blog page. dashboard version seems fine, i think.)

🌼  middle grade

🌻  contemporary

hurricane child by kacen callender

in the role of brie hutchens... by nicole melleby

hazel hill is gonna win this one by maggie horne

candidly cline by kathryn ormsbee

how to become a planet by nicole melleby

proud of me by sarah hagger-holt

the science of being angry by nicole melleby

middletown by sarah moon

p.s. i miss you by jen petro-roy*

almost flying by jake maia arlow*

in the key of us by mariama j lockington*

kenzie kickstarts a team by kit rosewater & sophie escabasse*

⚔️  fantasy

the strangeworlds travel agency by ld lapinski

the tea dragon society by kay o’neill*

📜  historical

tell no tales by sam maggs & kendra wells*

⁉️  mystery/thriller

goldie vance by hope larson

pepper’s rules for secret sleuthing by briana mcdonald

drew leclair gets a clue by katryn bury*

🦇  paranormal/horror

artie and the wolf moon by olivia stephens

🧪  science fiction

our sister, again by sophie cameron

🌼  young adult

🌻  contemporary

we are okay by nina lacour

this is what it feels like by rebecca barrow

the gay girl’s guide to ruining prom by siera maley

the liar’s guide to the night sky by brianna r. shrum

i kissed shara wheeler by casey mcquiston

the flywheel by erin gough

amelia westlake by erin gough

how to make a wish by ashley herring blake

taking flight by siera maley

like water by rebecca podos

don’t date rosa santos by nina moreno

all the invisible things by orlagh collins

orpheus girl by brynne rebele-henry

the henna wars by adiba jaigirdar

you should see me in a crown by leah johnson

love and other natural disasters by misa sugiura

rise to the sun by leah johnson

epically earnest by molly horan

if you still recognise me by cynthia so

truth be told by sue divin

thieves by lucie bryon

ask the passengers by a. s. king

starting from here by lisa jenn bigelow

annie on my mind by nancy garden

laura dean keeps breaking up with me by mariko tamaki

the stars and the blackness between them by junauda petrus

the last true poets of the sea by julia drake

i kissed alice by anna birch

fiebre tropical by juliana delgado lopera

melt my heart by bethany rutter

laurel everywhere by erin moynihan

every body looking by candace iloh

something certain, maybe by sara barnard

⚔️  fantasy

a dark and hollow star by ashley shuttleworth

the scapegracers by h. a. clarke

girl, serpent, thorn by melissa bashardoust

down comes the night by allison saft

engelsfors by mats strandberg & sara b. elfgren

summer of salt by katrina leno

from dust, a flame by rebecca podos

spellbook of the lost and found by moïra fowley-doyle

girls made of snow and glass by melissa bashardoust

out of the blue by sophie cameron

witch, cat & cobb by j. k. pendragon

girls of paper and fire by natasha ngan

the afterward by e. k. johnston

the never tilting world by rin chupeco

the midnight lie by marie rutkoski

the dark tide by alicia jasinska

the midnight girls by alicia jasinska

sweet & bitter magic by adrienne tooley

wench by maxine kaplan

way of the argosi by sebastian de castell

ash by malinda lo

the raven and the reindeer by t. kingfisher

the last magician by lisa maxwell

shatter the sky by rebecca kim wells

we set the dark on fire by tehlor kay mejia

queen of coin and whispers by helen corcoran

ghost wood song by erica waters

these feathered flames by alexandra overy

the bone spindle by leslie vedder

into the crooked place by alexandra christo

edie in between by laura sibson

crier’s war by nina varela

the winter duke by claire bartlett

sofi and the bone song by adrienne tooley*

girls at the edge of the world by laura brooke robson*

dauntless by elisa a. bonnin*

📜  historical

dangerous remedy by kat dunn

forgive me if i’ve told you this before by karelia stetz-waters

the pearl thief by elizabeth wein

heavy vinyl by carly usdin & nina vakueva

valiant ladies by melissa grey*

a curse of roses by diana pinguicha*

⁉️  mystery/thriller

far from you by tess sharpe

the girls i’ve been by tess sharpe

people like us by dana mele

summer’s edge by dana mele

the truth about keeping secrets by savannah brown

i hope you’re listening by tom ryan

eight pieces of silva by patrice lawrence

bad things happen here by rebecca barrow

the things we don’t see by savannah brown

the hollow inside by brooke lauren davis

throwaway girls by andrea contos

you’re next by kylie schachte

a lesson in vengeance by victoria lee

the sullivan sisters by kathryn ormsbee

cold by mariko tamaki

the killing code by ellie marney*

rules for vanishing by kate alice marshall*

🦇  paranormal/horror

the dead and the dark by courtney gould

to break a covenant by alison ames

shallow graves by kali wallace

wilder girls by rory power

afterlove by tanya byrne

house of hollow by krystal sutherland

specter inspectors by bowen mccurdy

burn down, rise up by vincent tirado

hollow by shannon watters & branden boyer-white

missing, presumed dead by emma berquist

perfectly preventable deaths by deirdre sullivan*

the dark beneath the ice by amelinda bérubé*

ghost walk by kay solo*

🧪  science fiction

joyride by jackson lanzing & collin kelly

crownchasers by rebecca coffindaffer

the good luck girls by charlotte nicole davis

cosmoknights by hannah templer

jane, unlimited by kristin cashore*

🌼  adult

🌻  contemporary

summer of the cicadas by chelsea catherine

take a hint, dani brown by talia hibbert

in the event of love by courtney kae

night tide by anna burke

beautiful world, where are you by sally rooney

spell heaven and other stories by toni mirosevich

far from home by lorelie brown

once ghosted, twice shy by alyssa cole

spindrift by anna burke

cow girl by kirsty eyre

the split by laura kay

tell me everything by laura kay

everyone in this room will someday be dead by emily austin

transcendent kingdom by yaa gyasi

the fat lady sings by jacqueline roy

conversations with friends by sally rooney

flamingo by rachel elliott

the wrong end of the telescope by rabih alameddine

a map of home by randa jarrar

mostly dead things by kristen arnett

patsy by nicole dennis-benn

little fish by casey plett

undone by bryce oakley

satisfaction guaranteed by karelia stetz-waters

tack & jibe by lilah suzanne

all at sea by cheyenne blue

i kissed a girl by jennet alexander

january embers by hildred billings

the simple answer by lily seabrooke

under the rainbow by celia laskey

the world cannot give by tara isabella burton

la bastarda by trifonia melibea obono

the one hundred years of lenni and margot by marianne cronin

all are welcome by liz parker

the romance recipe by ruby barrett

disoriental by négar djavadi*

the thirty names of night by zeyn joukhadar*

bastard out of carolina by dorothy allison*

among other things, i’ve taken up smoking by aoibheann sweeney*

marriage of a thousand lies by s. j. sindu*

honey girl by morgan rogers*

too much lip by melissa lucashenko*

delilah green doesn’t care by ashley herring blake*

the secret lives of church ladies by deesha philyaw*

the barrens by kurt & ellie johnson*

28 questions by indyana schneider*

there are more things by yara rodrigues fowler*

⚔️  fantasy

the unbroken by c. l. clark

the jasmine throne by tasha suri

wild and wicked things by francesca may

the true queen by zen cho

isola by brenden fletcher

the impossible contract by k. a. doore

foundryside by robert jackson bennett

the traitor baru cormorant by seth dickinson

the empress of salt and fortune by nghi vo

the bone shard daughter by andrea stewart

blackheart knights by laure eve

the velocity of revolution by marshall ryan maresca

the gracekeepers by kirsty logan

in the vanishers’ palace by aliette de bodard

the priory of the orange tree by samantha shannon

thorn by anna burke

penhallow amid passing things by iona datt sharma

sing the four quarters by tanya huff

city of lies by sam hawke

moontangled by stephanie burgis

burning roses by s. l. huang

a master of djinn by p. djèlí clark

ashes of the sun by django wexler

fireheart tiger by aliette de bodard

bestiary by k-ming chang

the black coast by mike brooks

night flowers shirking from the light of the sun by li xing

the councillor by e. j. beaton

silverglass by j. f. rivkin

water horse by melissa scott

high times in the low parliament by kelly robson

into the broken lands by tanya huff

the fire opal mechanism by fran wilde

among thieves by m. j. kuhn

the factory witches of lowell by c. s. malerich

the forever sea by joshua phillip johnson

the final strife by saara el-arifi

brother red by adrian selby

the winged histories by sofia samatar

the vanished queen by lisbeth campbell*

the northern girl by elizabeth a. lynn*

the bladed faith by david dalglish*

the worthy by anna k. moss*

📜  historical

the wicked cometh by laura carlin

the pull of the stars by emma donoghue

she who became the sun by shelley parker-chan

infamous by lex croucher

devotion by hannah kent

under the udala trees by chinelo okparanta

after the wedding by courtney milan

heathen by natasha alterici

mrs martin’s incomparable adventure by courtney milan

the night watch by sarah waters

tell it to the bees by fiona shaw

kept animals by kate milliken

a lady’s desire by lily maxton

the ophelia girls by jane healey

that green eyed girl by julie owen moylan

the perks of loving a wallflower by erica ridley

the companion by e. e. ottoman

her countess to cherish by jane walsh

paris, 7a.m. by liza wieland*

mademoiselle revolution by zoe sivak*

dark earth by rebecca stott*

⁉️  mystery/thriller

dirt town by hayley scrivenor

the lighthouse by fran dorricott

after the eclipse by fran dorricott

the final child by fran dorricott

proper english by k. j. charles

the last place you look by kristen lepionka

the better liar by tanen jones

fortune favors the dead by stephen spotswood

real easy by marie rutkoski

the best bad things by katrina carrasco

the case of the good-for-nothing girlfriend by mabel maney

the kill club by wendy heard

bury the lede by gaby dunn

beloved poison by e. s. thomson

the lady upstairs by halley sutton

ash mountain by helen fitzgerald

last call at the nightingale by katharine schellman

return to blackwater house by vikki patis

payback by charlotte mills*

a reason to kill by eve zaremba*

the heard by andrea bartz*

snare by lilja sigurðardóttir*

amateur city by katherine v. forrest*

the savage kind by john copenhaver*

the dime by kathleen kent*

the verifiers by jane pek*

🦇  paranormal/horror

abbott by saladin ahmed

the animals at lockwood manor by jane healey

black water sister by zen cho

hearts in the hard ground by g. v. anderson

they drown our daughters by katrina monroe

meddling kids by edgar cantero

yellow jessamine by caitlin starling

our wives under the sea by julia armfield

briefly, a delicious life by nell stevens

dead woman’s pond by elle e. ire

tripping arcadia by kit mayquist*

🧪  science fiction

a memory called empire by arkady martine

this is how you lose the time war by max gladstone & amal el-mohtar

the unspoken name by a. k. larkwood

the space between worlds by micaiah johnson

dead space by kali wallace

the quantum thief by hannu rajaniemi

ninefox gambit by yoon ha lee

ancillary justice by ann leckie

motor crush by brenden fletcher & cameron stewart

unconquerable sun by kate elliott

compass rose by anna burke

a big ship at the end of the universe by alex white

the light brigade by kameron hurley

empress of forever by max gladstone

the doors of eden by adrian tchaikovsky

seven of infinities by aliette de bodard

hard reboot by django wexler

last exit by max gladstone

sisters of the vast black by lina rather

gods, monsters, and the lucky peach by kelly robson

so happy for you by celia laskey

battle of the linguist mages by scotto moore

bluebird by ciel pierlot

an ancient peace by tanya huff

god’s war by kameron hurley*

barbary station by r. e. stearns*

this will kill that by danielle l. roux*

valkyrie by meg ludwa*

night sky mine by melissa scott*

the stars undying by emery robin*

🌼  poetry

if not, winter by sappho, trans. by anne carson

floating, brilliant, gone by franny choi

evohe by cristina peri rossi

bestiary by donika kelly

soft science by franny choi

rummage by ife-chudeni a. oputa

the world keeps ending and the world goes on by franny choi

bone by yrsa daley-ward

dream work by mary oliver

living as a lesbian by cheryl clarke*

womanslaughter by pat parker*

oral tradition by jewelle l. gómez*

the black unicorn by audre lorde*

hermetic definition by h.d.*

[booksbeansandcandles]

Witchy Herbs: Yarrow (Achillea millefolium)

This is also called devil's nettle, milfoil, seven years love, or bloodwort. It has feminine energies, connects with the element of water, and is ruled in the planet Venus. It honors Aphrodite, Hermes, and the Horned God. Zodiac sign; Aries. Crystals; Clear quartz, tigers eye, lapis lazuli.

It is a common herb you can find in most gardens. Its foliage has a silvery quality that is rather attractive. The stem and leaves of this plant are usually harvested in the latter part of summer and used in poultices and ointments to help staunch blood flow from wounds.

Hence for its Latin namesake. Achillea millefolium. According to the Greek myth, Yarrow gave the hero, Achilles, its protective powers to make him invincible wherever the herbal bath had penetrated his skin, and in turn, Achilles healed his wounded soldiers with Yarrow.

Growing yarrow in your witchy garden is always an excellent idea. Not only will you attract bees and have a steady supply of medicine, its very presence helps out all the other herbs around it. It increases the other herbs’ essential oil content as well as their growth and health in general.

Fights infections, break fevers, eases common cold symptoms, aids digestion, and easing painful menstruation or used in sitz baths for post labor. Recent studies are looking into how Yarrow can help with depression and anxiety as a tincture.

You can use this for spells involving love, healing, protection, courage, exorcism, and psychic powers.

Fun Folk Fact - When used in love spells, it is said that it will only empower that love for 7 years, the rest will be up to the couple to make it or break it.

• It is an attracting herb. If kept near, it will attract love, friends, people from the past, or to gain attention. If you think of them, they will come. • You can make a tea with this herb to enhance your psychic abilities and enjoy during divination. • Growing it near will also expel evil from any place, person, or thing. • Use yarrow to set magical boundaries. • Place yarrow over doorways to protect from negative energies. For powerful protection, pick yarrow flowers and charge them in the sun. Once charged, take the flowers and sprinkle them outside all the way around your home. This will keep any negative influences and energies away from your home. • Wash down a room or Ouija board with yarrow to attract friendly spirits. • Wash crystals and crystal balls with a yarrow rinse to bring about clarity of vision. • Yarrow has weak romantic properties making it the perfect courting ingredient when you just want to get to know someone before getting serious.

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 11

The village was nestled between two towns. It was close enough to the Summer Court that the weather was influenced by it. A crisp day befell them with blue skies and a golden sun that warmed the skin. When they passed through the wards, Nesta released a small gasp, finally able to see the sprawling village. More and more houses were being built from brick or wood as Eris shifted more to the area. It was filled with his loyalists. Ones who opposed Beron’s rule. There were many females here too that he and Orla had helped to relocate.

It was an idyll. Some days. Other days, headaches came.

Farmers groused that the neighbouring towns were undercutting the price of crops or the lesser fae grew uneasy with so many high fae beginning to filter in. Managing the tensions in all of these pockets was a constant juggling act. Eris could be like his father with a divine rule. Any opposition found their tongues cut out or heads chopped off. No, an iron fist was not the way to be. It did mean long hours of listening to farmers rant about the price of turnips or teachers complaining that their students didn’t listen – as if Eris could control either of these things. In his long years of moulding these sanctuaries, Eris had learnt that people simply wanted to be heard. They wanted somebody to listen rather than solutions, but if he could offer those too, that was better.

Eris was accosted by a cross, hairy male who – as expected – launched into a tirade about his neighbour’s children stealing pumpkins or smashing them on his land. Eris let him grumble and grumble then the male reasoned with himself that children will be children before wandering off to settle it with his neighbour.

'He was a lesser faerie?'

'A hob. Rather than risking offending him, which is the worst thing one can do with a hob, I find it’s better to let him talk himself into a circle.’

Nesta’s brows raised in surprise. ‘I’ve heard of hobs. My mother said they did the housework instead of servants.’

At that, Eris laughed heartily. ‘Never say such a thing to a hob. They’ll put ashes on your clothes or smash your plates. They have been enslaved in the past, but they’re very proud. They work on favours rather than gold.’

‘And there are more of these hobs?’

‘Yes and no. They don’t do well together so there aren’t many living here. But there are many in the Autumn Court and Spring. We have many types of lesser fae. Piskies are very common here. They are wonderful with horses – the male you saw at the stables is one. Spriggans are the third most common but I would recommend not interacting with them if you can avoid it.'

‘Why so?’

‘They’re incredibly strong.’ Eris checked the area to ensure none were around. ‘They also delight in mischief and misery. They’re spiteful. Ugly, crooked things.’

‘All of them?’

Eris shrugged. ‘As a rule.’

Throughout their afternoon, Eris and Nesta were jostled between people desperate to give their well-wishes on the wedding as well as to interrogate him on what he’d do about the weak bridge in the east and the rising numbers of bears that we moving south from the Winter Court. In these moments, Nesta was often drawn away into new conversation but Eris kept an eye on her. Although the village was safe, he still would not be complacent with her.

Many elder females examined her to see if she was up to standard then when they were seemingly satisfied, Nesta was offered a never-ending supply of teas, cakes, and biscuits. Each one desperate to seek the approval of the future lady of the court with their baking. For the duration, Eris had been locked into conversation with a group who were inciting tensions in one of his father’s strongholds to cause Beron a headache, but he kept his eyes flickering back to Nesta. By some miraculous feat, she ate one of everything that was presented to her. He didn’t know how she wasn’t sick. Or how her teeth hadn’t fallen out from the sugar.

Later in the afternoon, many began heading for the temple perched atop the hill. It was an ancient thing, built centuries ago.

‘Are we attending?’

Eris’ heart jolted from that small word. We. As if they were part of something together.

‘No. I won’t force you through it.’ He aimed to take Nesta by the elbow and wheel her around towards the river where many lesser fae made homes on the water in long, narrow boats painted bright colours.

‘Tell me honestly, if I wasn’t here would you attend the service?’

Eris pushed out a breath. ‘Yes.’

‘Then let us attend.’ Nesta gestured for him to lead the way to the modest temple perched atop the hill.

‘I don’t want to influence you or force you when you don’t believe,’ he explained carefully as they began their climb up the hill. Faith was a personal thing.

Nesta shook her head dismissively. ‘I don’t believe because it was never explained to me. Let me attend before I cast judgement. I must admit that I like the idea of something greater watching over me.’

It was strange for Eris to think of mortals existing without a higher being to guide them. No Cauldron or Mother. Then again, they likely had nothing to give thanks for. Their lives were brief and bleak. It wasn’t the Mother that parents scared their children with stories of to keep them in line, it was the fae.

‘Forgive me if this is presumptuous, but I didn’t imagine you to be a fervent worshipper.’

‘Because of my questionable morals?’ He teased. It was true. He was not the type. Many times, Eris had squirmed in a service when priestesses had spoken of goodness and purity – all of the things that he lacked. ‘Fervent maybe is not the correct word. We all need something to believe in, some more than others. After the service, I will tell you exactly why I have faith.’

Eris led the way to a space on one of the pews. Many had already come for the service while more filed in afterwards. All recognised him. That was fine – Eris did frequent this temple. Nesta was not a secret. The village was safe. Some gave a murmured greeting in the almost silent temple while others who hadn’t met her yet craned their necks from their benches to scrutinise Nesta. The female pretended she didn’t notice the curious eyes or whispers. She had done well today. Excellent even. She hadn’t coveted friends, but those who had approached her were met with a female of quick wits and honest words. That was far better than honeyed words that hid their falseness.

The service flowed through hymns and prayers. There was a lot of rising then kneeling then sitting then rising once more. Eris always thought it was to counteract the drowsiness that came from a warm temple littered with cosy candles.

Nesta listened devoutly, soaking in every word to understand the teachings. He could not have felt prouder that she had chosen to be here. If Nesta decided it was not for her, Eris would not begrudge her decision. It was foreign to her. But she had tried to understand and that was crucial to her life as a faerie. And it mattered a lot to Eris.  

‘You didn’t sing,’ Nesta murmured as the service came to an end.

He let out a soft snort. ‘I never sing.’

A few fae shook Eris’ hand at the end of the service as they filed out. They filled him in on their farms or families. A few more wanted to greet Nesta too. She nodded and listened, asking them to repeat their names as she committed faces to memory. There were many types of lesser fae in the village. Poor Nesta had likely never seen their sort, but to her credit, she hadn’t shown any outward alarm or surprise.  

‘My lord,’ a soft voice said.

Eris was greeted with a pair of brown eyes, as large and innocent as a fawn’s. The female wound a lock of her auburn hair around her fingers as she offered a polite curtsey to him. How the ribbons of her stay hadn’t snapped from how tightly they’d been pulled to push up her bust, Eris would never know.

‘It has been so long since we have seen you, I had almost forgotten your face.’

‘Life has a habit of running away with me.’

She tittered out a laugh then stroked a hand along his arm. ‘Tell life that I am jealous.’ 

Eris pulled his arm free of Aurelia’s claws and stepped away. ‘I’ll be sure to send you my vast number of reports to file if you are jealous. Aurelia’s father is the male I rely on to keep Altor Hay turning. This is my wife, Nesta.’ He slipped an arm around her lower back, drawing her closer.

Disappointment pinched at Aurelia’s features. ‘I had heard a rumour. We were all disappointed you did not wed an Autumn Court female. Does a Night Court female not pale next to one of your own?’

Eris did not like her tone. Aurelia had been pushed for many years by her father to lock him into marriage. There was nothing unpleasant about her – apart from her rabid ambition that was desperate for a Vanserra surname and nothing more in life. She always made a beeline for him – and always ended up spraining an ankle or feeling faint in order to lean on him. It was irksome and transparent.

‘You are being incredibly disrespectful to my wife. I have only ever wanted the best – regardless of court, Aurelia – and that is who I have. I would not have entered a marriage to any but my equal.’

Her brown eyes went to his hand spread across Nesta’s hip where his tattoo lay. Bitterness was swallowed down as Aurelia remembered that one day, Eris would be high lord – and Nesta would be the female at his side, not her.

‘Forgive me. My emotions overpowered my sense.’

Nesta smiled sweetly. ‘It can happen when it is in short supply.’

Before the blow could land, Nesta turned to leave – and Eris followed whilst trying to suppress a laugh. Her wit would be the death of him.

The last rays of sun clung to the sky so Nesta drew her cloak tighter around her. She retrieved her gloves from a pocket to slip them on then laced her arm through his once more as if she belonged there.

‘Thank you for defending me.’

Eris blinked. ‘You’re my wife. I won’t let anybody speak poorly of you.’

‘You don’t even know me.’

They headed towards the stable where his horse had been kept for the day. His stomach was beginning to rumble but Nesta had been exposed to enough people for the day. She’d want to recede back to her own company to decompress. They could eat in his rooms, away from more strangers.

‘I promised not to lie to you. The truth is that any disrespect towards you reflects upon me. We are seen as equal. To many here, they see you as my possession. If I let it slide, I lose control. I let them think they have the ability to criticise my decisions.’ Eris puffed out a breath. ‘But it feels like a lie to tell you that. I defended you because you are brilliant no matter what court you come from. I defended you because I do not want anybody to make you feel as if you are not good enough. Put your foot in,’ he said, pointing to the stirrup. ‘I do know you. Some of you. I know that you are likely itching to get back to privacy and are hoping I leave you alone for the evening. I know that you save your favourite part of the meal to the end and eat the parts you like least first to get rid of them.’

Eris helped Nesta into the saddle with a smooth lift then he swung himself up behind her.

‘I know that you’d put your friends’ safety above your own, that you read a book in two sittings and sometimes mouth the words, and you sleep with two pairs of socks on because you always have cold feet.’

Nesta spluttered a reply. He’d learnt to be observant. It helped read his father’s moods. It had taught Eris when to stay out of his father’s way or when to take cover entirely.

‘And I know that it shocked you when I defended you in front of Aurelia which makes me feel quite cross that it wasn’t done in the past.’

The horse went at a trot towards the black forest. He didn’t know if he’d pushed Nesta too far or terrified her by revealing that much information. It wasn’t that he stared, he just tended to notice things. The little things made up the big things. They deserved attention.

‘Was she a past lover?’

Was that jealously that Eris heard in her tone? The thought did something to him. He pressed his lips together to stop a smile forming as they rode.

‘Would you care if she was?’

‘I’d like to know how many ex-lovers will confront me.’

Nesta sank back in the saddle, leaning against him rather than holding herself rigid.

‘Aurelia’s father has tried for many years to make me realise what a good wife his daughter would make. I’ve never been inclined to listen. She wants my surname. And probably the vast hoard of treasure beneath the vaults of the Forest House.’ Eris wasn’t sure whether to tell Nesta that the law also stipulated that upon his death, she would inherit his wealth. She might kill him. ‘Aurelia is not a lover. You will meet females like her again though – ones whose ambition comes from a desire to please a nagging parent.’

‘I know the sort.’

The eldest daughter of a wealthy merchant from the mortal lands… Yes, Nesta had likely been primed for marriage too. He remembered Feyre being unable to read beneath the mountain and yet Nesta swallowed books on every topic. How could two daughters experience such a difference in education?

Eris knew that he should have winnowed them closer to the Forest House, that he risked both of them by being out in the dark with no smokehounds or his own sentries canvassing the area. He was a fool. A fool who relished the warmth of her body knocking against his as the horse trotted onwards.

***

They were taking the long way back to the Forest House, Nesta was sure of it. She didn’t mind too much. Although the encroaching night was cold, Eris’s body was warm against hers. It was the darkness that Nesta struggled with. She couldn’t see the path that the horse found. Her only guess was that Eris had spent so much time in the vast forests that he could seemingly craft a way back with little light. If she spent too long in silence, the shadows began to warp into horrors. Each rustle of a branch was an assailant of the Night Court sent to retrieve her.  

‘You’ve gone all tense. Are you alright?’

Nesta forced her lungs to exhale rather than remain locked like a cage. A trembling hand slid on top of his around the reins to ground herself.

‘The forest is fearsome at night.’

She had heard mention of bears in the village earlier. Maybe Nesta could spin that as the reason for her fears.

‘I will winnow us.’

‘No,’ Nesta said quickly. It was her own imagination running away with her, but she was not in a hurry to be close to Beron again. She wanted more than anything to be in the comfort of the little cottage or even Orla’s home. ‘Darkness.’

That was all Nesta could manage.

‘I have an idea.’

The unpleasant sensation of winnowing seized her as if she was being forced into a place that was too small. The air was suddenly colder. The sharpness of it made her gasp.

‘I will show you the jewel of my court.’

They dismounted, tethering the horse where the trees were sparse despite Nesta’s worries that some harm could befall it. Eris waved it away, claiming the horse knew how to kick.

Together they walked out of the trees into a barren area. It was cold enough for Nesta to see her breath in the dark. Sensing her discomfort, Eris kindled fire to his palm and brought her close so she could reap the benefits of it.

Snow dusted the mountain range that she knew spread across to the Winter Court. They weren’t as massive as the ones in the Night Court but they were still impressive. To a sheltered once-mortal who hadn’t seen beyond her town, anything ignited her wonder.

On they went into a cave that felt warmer without the wind whipping at them, but still Eris kept his fire going to light their way. It should have set alarm bells ringing that Eris Vanserra was leading her into a cave, but none came. Eris had not given her reason to fear him. After seeing him in the temple, Nesta did not believe he would make vows to the Mother to protect and love Nesta if he planned to hurt her. There were some lines that even Eris would not cross.

‘You never told me why you have faith.’

‘I always feel safe in temples. When I was a boy, I smashed something on my father’s desk. It was accidental but I shouldn’t have been in there. I knew he’d beat me. I ran and ran until I found a temple. They offer sanctuary. Even here, their devotion to the Mother trumps that of the high lord. They never gave me up to him. I think they’d have kept me there my whole life rather than surrender me.’ Eris shrugged carelessly. ‘I’ve never been able to repay the kindness of three elderly females who sheltered a scared, little boy from his father.’

Nesta could not imagine it - a father so cruel – but after meeting Beron, she supposed she could. He had a way of dominating the space he was in, of taking away all of the air, the light, so it was only him. The way that Eris had said he knew his father would beat him was too casual, too common. She had seen the scars on his back. All of Beron’s sons were his possessions to mould and squash however he wanted. Lucien had been evidence of that.

‘Did your father beat you?’

The corner of Eris’ mouth ticked up. ‘I prayed and prayed to the Mother to protect me. My father was called away on urgent business at the Winter border. It kept him there for two weeks – and caused many issues. The broken ornament was forgotten.’

‘Can’t deny the Mother with a divine intervention like that,’ Nesta said, a wry smile tugging at her lips too.

‘You cannot. I’ll always owe her.’

They paused. The cave was nothing spectacular. Nesta stared up at the ceiling then canvassed the walls around them, searching for the reason why Eris had brought her to the place. His fire extinguished, plunging them into a darkness where she could see nothing. Warm hands tugged at hers, bringing Nesta into a slow walk.

‘How do you see anything?’

‘I eat so many carrots,’ Eris teased. ‘Isn’t that what mortals say?’

One day, Nesta would ask him how he knew so much about mortals or why he was so invested in them. He knew their sayings, read their books. At her stumbling, Eris tightened his grip to steady her. Her feet shuffled over the stone until they came to a stop.

The roof of the cave glittered and glowed with a marvellous light that was almost blue.  As Nesta examined it closely, the lights moved. They wiggled and flickered in a strange show of light. 

But Nesta couldn’t marvel at it. Her eyes had moved to the ground. Stone gave way to a lake within the cave. A slow trickle of water sounded somewhere far in the blackness. Her heart clenched. Her whole body seized with a blind panic.

Run. She needed to run. 

Nesta broke free of Eris’ hand to retreat into the tunnel, as far from the water as she could go. 

‘Nesta?’

Her throat had closed up. Only a rasp came as she breathed. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be there. 

Fear had her squeezing her eyes shut and not pulling away when Eris wrapped his arms around her. Her breaths hissed between her teeth as she tried to calm herself. But they were still so close to the water. Still in reach. 

‘They’re just glow worms. An insect. Nothing magical or cursed. They can’t hurt you.’

His voice was gentle, spoken almost reverently in the darkness not to disturb the strange lights. 

‘The water.’

Nesta felt as if the kelpie was crawling towards them. That at that very moment it could be dragging its long body towards them, ready to drag them down to its lair. 

She wrenched her face away from Eris’ chest, as if she might catch that pair of black eyes staring at her from the surface. To give her fear a justification. 

‘It’s quite safe. There are a few eels but other than that there’s nothing else.’

Eris moved so that he stood behind her, arms laced around her front. 

‘I’ll dive in there to prove it, if that makes you feel better.’ His breath tickled against her ear lobe.

It sounded like a joke but Nesta had a feeling he probably would just to prove his words weren’t empty. 

She tried to focus on the beauty of the cave. Never had Nesta ever seen anything of the type before. It ought to have stunned her. But that worry was still there. 

Oddly, the weight of Eris’ body behind hers, together with the warmth of it, was a comfort. She should have been reviled by him. Repulsed by the Vanserra reputation. Against her back, she could feel the stable thumping of his heart. It tethered her to the present. Slowly, her wave of anxiety receded. Nesta still could not help her eyes from flickering back to the water to make sure nothing watched them, that nothing crept closer to take vengeance.

For a long while, they stood in silence, gazing up at the cave. It was a rare moment of peace in Nesta’s ever changing world. She imagined that if she asked Eris if they could stay there forever, he’d try to make it happen. Not one part of her could explain why he cared so much. A voice in her head still rationalised that she was simply a pawn for him to use against the Night Court – but she had seen the anger in his eyes over her treatment. That could not be faked. He wouldn’t bring Gwyn and Emerie to visit, risking himself, for anything other than her own happiness. She couldn’t figure him out. Maybe there was nothing to figure out. He was a male who tried to be good. A male who was earnest in his attempts, but a male who was in a place where he couldn’t let his goodness out in the open.

When his stomach refused to stop growling, so much so that it gave Nesta the giggles, they departed back to the forest. She was overjoyed to see the horse was still in one piece, happily grazing in the moonlight.

It would be a lie to deny that Nesta enjoyed the care that Eris took with her. He offered her the independence to try and mount the horse, but his steady hands were ready to help. They were always so delightfully warm. Eris was only ever respectful too. His hands stayed where they were needed, and let go once they were not. Once they were settled in the saddle, Eris ensured that her cloak was drawn around her shoulders to chase away the chill before he dug his heels into the horse’s flank and led them on.

The horse whinnied then reared back.

Eris sent his fire to blaze in a circle around them, while one hand clung to the reins. Nesta clung to his arms too.

Azriel peered at them in the darkened forest, his shadows skittering away from the fire.

‘You are trespassing, Shadowsinger.’

Winnow us to safety, Nesta thought. She did not imagine that Azriel was above dragging her back to Velaris on Rhysand’s command. Or Cassian’s. He was always the one to do the most unpleasant tasks that nobody else could bear to do.

She clung to Eris’ arms tighter as if it might anchor her. Could he hear how painfully her heart beat in her chest?

‘I haven’t come here for an argument,’ he said, voice like ice. ‘I need the truth.’

The steady heartbeat now pulsed rapidly against her shoulder as Eris held her close.

‘You know better than to come here.’

Azriel gritted his teeth. ‘I’m not here on an order. Under the Mountain. I need to know what Rhys did.’

‘One night would not be enough to tell you all the vile things your high lord did for fifty years.’

Nesta could not explain why Azriel deserved the truth. She supposed that he had never said a bad word about her – at least to her face. Perhaps that twisted part of her wanted him to know exactly the sort of male Rhysand was, so his vision of his high lord would be ruined. He was not pious. He did not deserve the worship he received from his cult.

Begrudgingly, Eris told Azriel how, night after night, Rhysand had trotted her sister out in scraps of fabric, her skin tattooed, whilst she was intoxicated. How she was forced to writhe in his lap and dance for their entertainment. How fun it must have been for the fae to use a simple mortal for their play thing. He spoke of Clare Beddor and the horrible way she’d died. It wasn’t easy to listen to. It hadn’t been the first time, but now Nesta became angrier. It burnt inside her like embers, smouldering within. He’d punished her for not hunting. She would punish him for the degradation he put Feyre through. That he still put her through.

‘Rhys probably did it to protect her.’

Eris snorted. ‘Amarantha did not give a shit about her. Feyre had a broken arm. She was dirty. Starving. My mother brought her water. She was ready to die. Then Rhysand made a deal with her. After his little shows, Amarantha wondered why he was so interested in her. His intervention changed Amarantha’s interest.’

‘They’re mates.’

‘And that excuses his behaviour? Ask yourself what your high lord would have done to her if Feyre Archeron had not been his mate?’

Nesta waited for Azriel to justify Rhysand’s behaviour again. To seek a reason why he did it. Rhysand could not possibly do wrong. When he didn’t answer, Eris shook his head. ‘It was all to get back at Tamlin. Everything he did was to slight the male.’

‘There had to be a reason.’

‘My goodness, you just believe everything he does must be altruistic,’ Nesta said, her frustration growing. ‘Is it so difficult to believe that he has done bad things? The Winter Court children-’

‘-Were not killed by him.’

‘Really?’ Eris said incredulously. ‘You believe the lie he spun that there was a mystery daemati who Amarantha never used except for this purpose?’

‘Who is the daemati in this court?’

Eris let out a mocking laugh. ‘What a talent for interrogation you have, Shadowsinger.’

Azriel snapped his attention to Nesta, taking in the closeness to Eris. The way he did not let go of Nesta so Azriel could not winnow her without dragging Eris along to. ‘How can you stand near him, knowing what he did to Mor?’

Morrigan who had taken every opportunity to wedge herself between Nesta and Cassian, who had never liked Nesta and made no secret of it.

‘Eris did nothing to her. It was her family who hurt her. Not Eris. What do I owe Mor? Mor who told me I belonged with the people who hammered nails into her? Mor who wanted me dumped in the mortal lands? I owe her nothing, certainly not my loyalty.’  

‘Eris Vanserra is a liar and a villain, Nesta. If you stay with him, you will be hurt.’

‘Is it so impossible for you to imagine that others wear masks? How can it be that only Rhysand masquerades?’

Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose, the conversation not going the direction he wanted it to. ‘What about Cassian?’

‘What about Cassian?’ Nesta spat back. The embers had been kindled into a flame that devoured her from the inside out. ‘Do you think Cassian cared about me when he forced me to march behind him for hours every day? Did he care about me when he told me everybody hated me or when he told me he couldn’t understand why my sisters loved me? Why should I give a damn about Cassian when it’s clear that all he has ever seen me as is something to fuck?’

Nesta saw every blow land on Azriel and she was glad for it. Her anger was not with him, but he carried his court’s loyalties too brashly here. Nesta was in a place where she could release her fury. She knew Eris would protect her.

‘What about your sister? Where are your loyalties to Feyre?’

‘Feyre locked me up. Took my home and locked me up. Her mate made us keep the secret that she was going to die, and I’m the villain for telling my sister? That’s what I get for being loyal to her? When was Feyre loyal to me? When has she ever chosen me over Rhys?’

‘They’re mates,’ he repeated as if that was a reason that trumped all overs. Being mates give them a divine right to do what they wanted to each other.

‘When would Cassian ever chose me over Rhysand?’

The words hung in the air. Neither of them wanted to suggest that her and Cassian could be mates. She had thought about it often. Those thoughts now were nightmares. She did not want to imagine a life shackled to him, playing second fiddle to his beloved high lord or Morrigan.

Azriel composed himself. The leaking of fury that had infiltrated his beautiful face had been subdued. ‘And Elain?’

It was a low blow, even for Azriel, to bring up Elain.

Nesta could not talk herself down from the ledge she found herself on. Could not force her anger away. They all thought she was a nasty piece of work, why not lean into it? Why not remind them exactly why she didn’t covet friends?

‘When Tamlin broke down our door, I shielded Elain with my body. I’d have sold my body to keep her from starving.’ Her voice cracked with emotion. Feyre had always been desperate for love. Her affections were fickle. Elain turning her back on Nesta was the worst betrayal she had ever experienced. Her hurt bled like a wound, leaking out for all to see.

‘Years, I protected her. Cared for her. Loved her. Years. For weeks, I sat by her side when we were made fae. I didn’t have time to grieve for what I’d lost because Elain needed me. For weeks, I fed her, bathed her, clothed her. I kept Elain alive. I paused my life because I loved her so much. Do not talk to me about Elain. She is a selfish little madam who is too cowardly to stand up for anything. She hides in the skirts of others. She will never get her hands dirty. Never ever ask me to change my life for Elain again. I am done being her shield.’

Silver flames engulfed her hands, but Nesta didn’t care. Her eyes prickled with tears. The first betrayer rolled down her face.

Eris sent a ring of fire blazing around the pair of them. It sent Azriel scurrying away.

‘For a male who is afraid of fire, you step too boldly into my court.’ A hand lay against the small of Nesta’s back, the thumb rubbing up and down in a soothing motion. ‘You wanted the truth and you have it. All of it. If you dare upset my wife again, I will string you up from the dungeon and light a fire beneath you then we will discover if you truly sing.’

The dark eyes of the shadow singer found hers. ‘We only ever wanted to help you, Nesta.’

Neither of them spoke on the journey back to the Forest House. Nesta kept her jaw clamped shut. They winnowed just outside the metal gates then rode towards the stables. Thankfully, they saw nobody of note save for wearied sentries or the odd servant. If Nesta saw Beron that night, she’d likely strike him down dead. Her mood was foul. Her face wasn’t very good at hiding that fact.

‘I’ll be here if you need me.’ Eris gestured to the living room where he’d pulled a blanket across the couch. ‘When you need me.’

‘I have never needed anybody.’

@owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @kitkat-writes-stuff @this-is-rochelle @sv0430

[breelandwalker]

Strawberry Supermoon 2022

Grab your baskets and your moon jars, witches - it's time for the Strawberry Supermoon!

Strawberry Moon

The Strawberry Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of June in the Northern Hemisphere. The name is taken from the ripening of those little red heart-shaped berries we find in so many summertime treats. Strawberries are typically ready to harvest beginning around the summer solstice, though this will vary depending on variety, planting times, and local weather. The Strawberry Moon, sadly, does not turn pink to match the berries.

Other European names for this moon include Honey Moon, Rose Moon, and Mead Moon. Indigenous names for the June moon include Blooming Moon (Anishinaabe), Green Corn Moon (Cherokee), and Hatching Moon (Cree).

What Does It Mean For Witches?

Full moons are excellent times for bringing wishes to fulfillment and plans to fruition, all the more so under one named after a prolific berry. Supermoons amplify this effect, so this is an optimal time to make things happen!

Your intuition may be stronger than usual during this time, so pay attention to those little inklings and gut feelings that won't be ignored. They might be telling you something important. Dreams may also be more vivid, though not necessarily more accurate or revealing.

This is a time to explore things that catch your attention or pique your curiosity, and to let yourself be open to new ideas and new opportunities.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

With a supermoon in the sky and the summer solstice hot on its' heels, it's time to prepare for a full bloom. Here's hoping you've been nurturing those plans and seeds of growth you planted in the spring, because they're about to start flowering and the way is clear to sow the next stage of your plans. What they will be and what new prospects the summer will bring is entirely up to you.

With the moon in Sagittarius, it's a good time to look ahead to the future. Think on the plans you have in process and let yourself dream of how things might turn out. If you're inclined to journaling, make a note of how things are going so far and how you hope they'll turn out. Pick your favorite divination method and do a reading for the month ahead. (Make sure you write that down too so you can check back later!)

This is a great time to go berry-picking or flower-gathering, so check your area for pick-your-own farms or farmer's markets with local produce. Have a picnic with friends or just enjoy a quiet afternoon with your own thoughts and a few favorite treats. Make a jar of sun tea or a sweet and summery berry salad. If you're partial to strawberries, indulge that sweet tooth!

Charge your crystals and spell jars and moon water under the light of Strawberry Moon to catch the energy of blooming flowers, ripening fruit, wishes coming true, and carefully-laid plans realized.

Spend a little time reflecting on how your year has gone thus far. Try to focus on the things that have improved and how you've grown as a person and in your life journey. Reflect on your accomplishments and what you plan to do next. Take a moment to be unashamedly proud of yourself for everything you've done and for making it this far despite everything life throws at you.

For more ideas on how to celebrate the Strawberry Moon and the Summer Solstice, check out Hex Positive Ep. 11, "Secular Celebrations" on your favorite podcatcher.

Happy Strawberry Moon, witches! 🌕🍓

Further Reading:

Strawberry Supermoon: Full Moon in June 2022, The Old Farmer's Almanac

Strawberry Moon 2022: The Spectacular Spiritual Meaning of June's Full Moon, The Peculiar Brunette

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison

(If you're enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[babbiweeb]

woman of color with a man of flame-kyojuro rengoku (headcanon)

“have the pride of a brown girl and know that you’ll figure out your own beauty in time”-tamara taylor

(anime in gif:unknown)

tw:n/a

initial tags:kyojuro rengoku, female reader, woman of color, headcanon(s), demon slayer:kimetsu no yaiba

genre:comfort & fluff, romance

headcanon theme:i am woman-emmy meli

authors note:when it comes to the color of my own skin, i have always found it to be challenged. to never be enough, but being oh so desperate to be accepted. i know i am not alone with my own turmoil–yet, despite all the nights i found myself comparing my own treasure to others, i could never imagine myself without melanin. our natural beauty is what lures people close. our glow is what makes us so undeniably tempting. the green eyes of envy that pry at our beauty, that still judge us, will be a constant reminder of how powerful melanin truly is. hold your head up high, you set the example for many that adore our color. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The first moment of bliss was when your eyes met-

-When his eyes met yours for the very first time, His fiery gaze couldn't help but trail your skin. He has never once seen anyone of such beauty. It almost became an addiction to simply look–he had no other word that came to mind as he slowly felt a shift within. 

-In secret, he compared you to a “radiant summer day”. The appearance of your skin under the warm sun had melted him. He never felt so sure about anything in his life. It’s as if the sun revolved around you–only you. 

-You reflected gracefully as each beam of sun absorbed into your skin. He is confident in his thoughts–you are the topic of every conversation. 

-Eventually, the courage had overflowed and soon became almost unbearable. He needed to tell you, to shout from the rooftops. You were a goddess in his eyes. One that the gods above had hand picked for him. A woman of divine honey to always remain by the side of flame.

-Kyojuro found your presence to always be welcoming, could it be that a part of you felt what he felt too? Nevertheless, his confession was fueled by the idea of domestic bliss. 

-Kyojuro often pictured the two of you in every season. In the winter, he would cuddle you close–offer you the same warmth you give him every time you bless his eyes with your presence. Warm tea and honey as you both watch the snowflakes fall. The subtle redness from the cold, slowly fading into flushed crimson, as your supple cheeks blush–oh how this would melt away his worries. 

-Whispers of love had finally found its way home. Your heart had accepted him with tender care. The promise of everlasting love within your grasp, with the intent of never letting go. 

-You are his. His very own goddess. 

“You are more than beautiful. You are exquisite.”

The seemingly never ending sting of insecurity-

-Kyojuro understood that the current era of civilization had regarded those of color to be less than favored. The point made clear was that fair skin became the standard for success. In turn, Kyojuro fought to aid in your moments of exhaustion. 

-He was always there. Even by letter, kasugai crow delivered messages of reassuring adoration from the man of flame. No matter how busy, Kyojuro always makes time for you. 

“You shine brighter than gold, and are worth much more than what the green eyed beasts have.”-He says.

“The universe took such tender, loving care to make you. Never forget that.”

“Sometimes I look up to the sky and wonder…does the sun ever envy your glow?”

-His words flow like poetry, filling the air as they reach your ears. Your head is now stained with such delectable praise that drips from his lips like honey. 

-The distinct contrast of complexion had only ever been a topic of conversation, one time. Not that Kyojuro never wanted to hear your worries, this was just simply not a worry of his to begin with. He never once looked at you differently, even amongst the sea of ivory. You were like molten amber. A woman hot to the touch as your confidence grew–oh how Kyojuro cherished the moments of the self-love you gave up to yourself. 

-Kyojuro lived to worship you. 

The love shown in many ways-

-The infatuation grew with each passing day, as his heart yearned for every bit of your soul. His lips did more than whisper sweet gestures–oh he took every moment to show you.

-The warmth of his arms is forever engraved into memory as the passion lingers, covering every inch of your body with pure loyalty. His hands traced your delicate color in adoration. Arms, legs, stomach–every part of you forever marked with his essence. 

-Your face, however, was his treasure. 

-Kyojuro plants gentle kisses in order. Forehead, nose, cheeks, chin, and finally–lips. With each passing breath, his soft voice reminds you of your divinity.

“You are not less than. You are simply bold. The world isn't ready for what you have in store–”-He whispers.

-Kyojuro knows that your fire is utterly magnificent. You envelop those in your wake with smoldering embers as your free mind sets the hearts ablaze.

“My sunflower.”

“You are the light of my life. My desire is to always have you by my side.”

-Kyojuro, while not fashionable himself, tried to purchase garments that compliment your complexion. No matter how mute or bright the color–you wore every piece of traditional wear he brought you. The love you two share knows no bounds. You cherished every little thing he did for you. He proved his love to you in many ways. As his mind, body, and soul all belonged to you. 

-Yellow, however, is his absolute favorite color to see you in. There was something about seeing such a lovely color on skin that resembled the Earth. Our beautiful, nurturing planet all embodied into one.

“You are one closest to nature. You are home.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

authors end note::hi hi! i had a small fit of insecurity not too long ago, and i felt the small urge to write kyo for us women of color! sometimes it’s hard to remember just how beautiful we are! that’s why our comfort characters are here to bring us such peace! kyo is 100% pinoy. idc. it’s canon. i hope you kyo stans enjoyed this short read! as this is color coded for us women of color, i did still want to keep it relatively friendly for all my readers to enjoy thoroughly! however, my message still stays the same–our skin, our melanin, is what makes us so incredibly powerful. alrighty! talk soon okay?

word count:1131

many thank! -babbi₊˚⊹♡

-09/06/23

[emblematicemblazer]

World building and theories of Engage

Ivy's outfit

Ivy's name has English and Latin origins, it comes from the Old English for the ivy plant, ‘ifig' and means ‘vine’.

There is interesting symbolism in different cultures associated with the Ivy vine. In Greek Mythology, Ivy is associated with Dionysus. Ivy is an evergreen plant and a symbol of immortality so the God wears a wreath made of interwoven Ivy vines. As well as immorality associated with life span, the Ivy adorned by Dionysus symbolises the enduring nature of lust. I think this could be connected to Elusia's high value of beauty and what beauty can instigate. Dionysus was also the God of wine and theatre. Wine grapes grow in summer and inspire passion whereas ivy is associated with winter and inspires profound thoughts. If a lady did not worship him, Dionysus would mix wine and Ivy to inspire delirium and awe. Princess Ivy does seem like a lady who would focus on profound, long lasting thoughts rather than indulging in lust and fleeting impulses. The Ancient Greeks and Romans also believed that wearing ivy would prevent drunkenness. Ivy's strength and resilience has been honed by her experience of court politics. This skill set, along with her belief In the Divine Dragon, mean that she cannot be out under the influence of Zephia's mind control magic. Zephia requires a naive and vulnerable mind for her spell to be effective. 

In Christianity, Ivy is part of the Crown of Thorns that Jesus wore during His Passion, along with holly and the red berries. Ivy represents Jesus's immortality and rebirth. The fact that Ivy clings to its supports symbolises the worshipper’s devotion and attachment to their saviour. Princess Ivy also clings to get ‘support', her belief and devotion to the Divine Dragon. 

In Egyptian mythology ivy is sacred to the God Osiris. Osiris is the God of the sun, health and agriculture and he was married to his opposite, the goddess of the moon, Isis. Seth, the God of the desert, thunderstorms and the eclipse, was jealous of his brother's fertile domain so he locked his brother up in a sarcophagus and tossed it into the Nile. The sarcophagus was found and returned to Isis, who started to prepare the physical body to be buried so his spirit could go to the afterlife. Seth stoke Osiris's dead body and chopped it into 14 pieces. Isis tirelessly devoted herself to finding every piece. She found only 13 out of 14, unfortunately his genitals were never recovered. Orisis became the king of the underworld. Ivy is sacred to Osiris because; it symbolises the love and devotion of Isis to her husband, ivy is evergreen and symbolises immortality and ivy does not need roots to grow whereas Osiris also doesn't need his ‘roots'. 

In Japan the Ivy is a symbol of determination and prosperity. The ivy vine can overcome any obstacle to climb and flourish. Princess Ivy is as tenacious as the ivy vine in overcoming the obstacles to bring peace back to Elyso. 

Some Buddhist monks believed if they ate nothing but tree products and drank poison ivy tea that they would ascend to Nirvana. Overcoming the pain of the material and letting go of the human body and life is part of enlightenment. In poison ivy there is an oily resin called urushiol. It is not poisonous but approximately 85% of the population are allergic to it. Imagine the swelling, the blistering and itchy rashes inside the digestive symptom! Poison Ivy can kill if ingested but touching it would not kill but could be very uncomfortable. Poison Ivy is dangerous, just like Princess Ivy In battle.

In medieval tradition and pagan spirituality, holly represents the bride and Ivy represents the groom. The combination was believed to ward off evil spirits and celebrate new growth. If ivy and holly were brought together then it was said to bring peace to the household. 

Ivy's signature flower is the pink rose, they adorn her dress, her fascinator and her jewellery. The thorns of the rose adorn her gloves and boots. In English tradition pink roses are associated with beauty and grace, Ivy's has both in abundance. To give a pink rose is to express gratitude. The hot pink rose is a symbol of happiness. In the Bible roses are like human life, their life is short.

 “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God stands forever.”

 Even when Ivy perishes, the love and admiration she had for the Divine Dragon will endure.

Buddhist's see roses as an expression of spiritual joy. 

The colour of her outfit is dark purple, hot pink  and the gloves and boots are white.

The main colour of her outfit is dark purple. Dark Purple is used to symbolise wealth and royalty in Medieval/Victorian England. In the Bible purple is a symbol of royalty, power and authority. Purple robes drape the shoulders of Roman emperors, kings, the affluent and Jesus Christ. The cloak Jesus Christ wore before he was nailed to the cross was purple. Purple is also a symbol of suffering.

Just like in the West, purple is a colour used to symbolise royalty. It also symbolises strength and is associated with warriors.

In Buddhism, Purple was only worn by monks with the emporer's approval. It is a symbol of religious significance. 

Ivy's dress is based on a Victorian ball gown. When a Victorian lady attended a ball, it was appropriate to wear a gown that exposed the throat and shoulders. Of course the Fire Emblem version exposes much more flesh than what would be deemed tasteful. The silhouette forms two triangles with the smallest part of each triangle meeting at the waist. A tiny waist was an essential aspect of the Victorian ball gown as was a decorative and voluminous skirt. Ivy's skirt is a little more like a late Victorian shape with more fabric at the back to enhance the bottom. In ballroom dress it was appropriate to wear white gloves.

On her head is a mini hat or fascinator. In the late 1400s to early 1600s, In English society, ladies were required to don a head dressing. Just like the lavish accessories of this era, Ivy's fascinator is adorned with feathers and lace.

The spikes on the white gloves have little practical usage but the ones on her boots could be painful, especially with a crotch kick. The spikes symbolise thorns. Ivy is a beauty but she is a beauty with thorns.

Elusia priotises beauty over practicality. Ivy's outfit may suit a ballroom or court setting but does not suit the snow and rain.

[farmboyprince]

My introspective- week 1 of @2024-grimoire-challenge

Tuesday, 2.1. It's only been a few days, but I already feel like I've done something good for myself. Writing definitions on the first day felt like a great start, especially since I'm writing in my native language and spell/ritual don't translate perfectly- I've chosen the words that I think most fit and expanded on that. It will be helpful to have a kind of dictionary and I already have some ideas on what to add to it when I have time:)

I'm also a bit surprised that I recognise the english words for the plant and spice I chose to research, but I wouldn't have ever connected them with ours- I just thought it was something we don't have here xD I feel a little silly about it, but interested in finding more connections like that!

Wednesday, 3.1. I've found today's prompt pretty difficult on the account of the yearly celebrations outline. A couple were quite easy to list- the summer and winter solstices, the spring equinox, pust,.. but for some others it's hard to find credible sources for even approximate dates of celebrations (on account of my ancestors not having a written language and forced christianisation). As such, I wrote down the dates that appeared most often (and most well sourced!). I ended up with 10 celebrations- 6 that I know how they're celebrated and when they are, and 4 that I either saw mentioned a lot or that seemed nice, even if I can't find definite proof of them being historical (Domovoj my beloved, of course I'll have a day for you<3).

As for the tools I use, they're just there to make the whole spellcasting/ritual experience feel a little more mystical and add a bit of whimsy. I have a couple different candles and incense/wax melts, sometimes I add stones or shells I found on the beach. All of those get placed on a "vibes" basis before I do my work. I also sometimes burn herbs I've foraged or make tea with them. My most important tool is my wand; a sun-bleached conifer stick I found on a mountain once. It's just a stick with a wax coated tip (so I can use it to transfer a flame and light my candles without destroying it- very cool) that I absolutely love. It's my kind of protection- instead of casting circles, I just use my wand to start a working. I always had an affinity for trees and wood (lol), so I've never worried about saying the wrong thing or accidentally fucking the spell up as long as I had my lil piece of tree:)

Behold, the stick! It fits really nicely in my hand<3

Thursday, 4.1. Thinking about my altar- it's been trough many changes since first set it up. That was after I began doing more research into witchy stuff and it followed all the "rules"; I've had the four elements in their right places, candles, a knife, wand, cup,... In time and with practice, I've realised that's not how I work. Since setting it up my own way, it rarely changes. I have everything that I need on hand, along with my god/spirit representations and lucky things. I don't really consider it an altar as much as my personal important space where I do magic work, watch candle flames flicker and drink tea. I do want some more idols tho- I think I'll finally have to learn how to whittle.

Friday, 5.1. I don't really have any personal practices. In part, it's the reason I started this challenge- I'd like to do more research, write down my findings and make my personal practice with the help of that. The only thing I can think of is, that along with doing a yearly spread of tarot cards (I do it in january and pull one card for each month) I also pull MTG cards. It's started because divination can be fun and I really wanted to do some with my boy, who is super into magic the gathering. I usually do it with leftover cards from drafts and while I don't know about accuracy (forgot to write down what I pulled lol), it's definitively a fun bonding activity:)

all in all, I quite liked the prompts and filling up the indexes feels very rewarding! Looking forward to the next week:)