#when blooms the rose in coldest winter

[exlibrisfangirl]

WIP GAME

RULES: Share the last line you wrote for your WIP, and then tag as many people as there are words.

Tagged by my belovéd Emily 💛 @dreamersscape

This is the latest line from When Blooms The Rose In Coldest Winter, my Dergent-centric Beauty and the Beast/Teen Wolf AU:

The wind was howling, the wolves were howling, the hunting dogs were howling, the mob was howling… but Derick? Derick just stood there, like a statue - unnaturally still and stone-cold silent - and it sent chills creeping down Christophe's spine.

Tagging: @oddwriter @takadasaiko @awlwren @seven-oomen @beaconfeels @greyhavenisback @derpylittlenico @rosieposiepuddingnpie @teenwerewoofs @alphadiablo29 @shealynn88 @rebakitt3n @msmischief101 @voidstilesplease Uhhhh, I can't think of any more, lol. If I tagged you, you are under NO obligation to do this! If I didn't tag you, but you want to do it, feel free to lie and say that I did tag you! =)

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

the lilac mother

I was in a coffee shop called the Velvet Robot

my white mocha lavender latte was exquisite and warm

I found this collection of local poems and stories at my table

and browsed the pages because there was a fairy on the cover

I sipped and opened the page to a story

of a mother described so much like I'd want to be

the child who wrote about her loved the way she taught

life lessons from the stories of flowers in her garden

and how her mother was like the lilac tree who was sick

in the roots and made the branches and blooms above

wither and rust at the stems and bark and everywhere

in that room of strangers I began to cry silently

and think about how when my lilacs bloomed this year

they weren't as heavy or strong as before

how lilacs have followed me through life

reminding me that during and after even the coldest winter

the bush worked on her buds for their early bloom

I never had a mother who gave me lessons in kindness

she told me the world was hard on women

so she had to be hard on me and executed it painfully

and throughout my life I followed that pattern

looking to keep loneliness and pain as my companion

making sure to stay small and convenient for those

who likely couldn't love me if they wanted to

wounds seek out other wounds so they can bleed together

everything changed when I had my children

I knew the lessons I'd learned no longer had to continue

I learned the bloodline could be purified and so happily

I set myself on fire to radiate whatever divine love

could be given to those who were created in me

and when they seek out my softness and trust my words

I know myself to be saved by whatever forces we can will

to right whatever wrongs were given to us by agony

that originates far beyond what we can control

my children could write the same story about me

the story that made me cry in that coffee shop

named after a robot cast in velvet that I've often felt like

but to them I am flesh and bone they love to come from

I am an origin story they won't have to kill to survive

I'm so proud but I'm also so fucking lost

it's an odd sort of transition to balance myself in

I let myself become something that didn't exist for me

and once the illusion was spent I returned to the mess

I didn't create but definitely am responsible for

now I have to raise the little girl of a soul inside me

I've fed dreams and mythology but never my own beliefs

there never seemed to be room for them

now there is and I have more work to do

and I'll do it but maybe tomorrow

I think today I'll watch the rain and smell the leaves

of the rose I planted a month ago just beginning to bud

she's called Chicago Peace and when she blooms

she'll be pink that blends into yellow like dawn

I love her thorns and how she doesn't mind being alone

an somehow that's something comforting to me

we'll see how it goes

[sourdoughservitor]

Full Moons

Full moons are the most notorious of the lunar phases, as the moon is at its full strength and exerts its influence with abandon. The entire face of the moon is visible at this time and the moon shines at its brightest. During this peak, the moon lends witches its strength, its sense of action, and its proclivity for development. It is also a time slated for clear-sighted divination.

In Celtic and Old English tradition, full moons have names and meanings depending on the time of year during which they are present. Put simply, there is a full moon for each month, plus the occasional extra one per year.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Wolf Moon

The Wolf Moon occurs in January, and is also known as the “Moon after Yule.” It is named for wolves’ heightened activity during this period. In the Celtic calendar, this is the Birch Moon, which represents rebirth and regeneration after Birch’s rapid re-colonization of burned forests. Creativity, fertility, healing, and protection are extra potent during this time.

Snow Moon

The Snow Moon occurs in February. Also known as the “Hunger Moon” or the “Storm Moon,” it coincides with the coldest month of the year, in which food is the most scarce. Occasionally the Snow Moon is supplanted by a rare Black Moon, which is said to be when there is no full moon in February. The Rowan Moon, in the Celtic calendar, represents Brighid--the goddess of the hearth. She is known for protection and fire as well as initiations or dedication. Rowan is used for power.

Worm Moon

Occurring in March and also known as the “Crow Moon,” the “Chaste Moon,” or the “Paschal Moon” (if after March 21), this moon is named after earthworms which return to warmer soil after the winter. Similarly, the Celtic Ash Moon is sacred to druids for prophecy, psychic power, and the inner journey.

Pink Moon

The Pink Moon, also known as the “Breaking Ice Moon,” the “Budding Moon,” the “Awakening Moon,” or the “Paschal Moon,” celebrates the thawing and blooming of spring flowers. It occurs in April. This moon corresponds with the Celtic Alder Moon, which is known for its powers in communing with the dead. Alder is a powerful tool to call upon and communicate with spirits.

Flower Moon

May sees the Flower Moon, whose other names are the “Planting Moon” and the “Milk Moon.” It is an optimal time for fertility and growth in both plants and animals, and is the perfect time to plant many varieties of plants. The Celtic calendar calls this moon the Willow Moon, for willows thrive in the rain that is plentiful around this time. Willows are thought to protect one from danger, particularly storms and other natural threats. They also have a connection with death and are often found near cemeteries.

Strawberry Moon

The Strawberry Moon, also called the “Rose Moon” and the “Hot Moon,” occurs in June and is named after the ripening of wild strawberries. It occasionally coincides with the summer solstice. Hawthorn, this moon’s Celtic correspondent, is associated with fire and fertility.

Buck Moon

Also called the “Thunder Moon” and the “Hay Moon,” the Buck Moon is named after great summer storms and new antlers that begin to emerge from deer. It is seen in July. This is also the Oak Moon, which represents protection, defence, success, and strength. It is sacred to the druids who believed if you carried an acorn in your pocket, you would have good fortune; and if you caught an oak leaf before it hit the ground, you would remain healthy for the next year.

Sturgeon Moon

August welcomes the Sturgeon Moon, named such for the huge spawning fish. It is also known to signal the harvest of many plants, giving it the names “Grain Moon” and “Corn Moon.” The continuation of summer storms also grants it the name “Lightning Moon,” and the heightened activity of the large cats mirrors the Wolf Moon with the “Lynx Moon” name. The Holly Moon is the Celtic antagonist to the Oak Moon, and it represents nature’s immortality, success, and the luck it can bless one with.

Harvest Moon

The Harvest Moon occurs in September as it rises for several days, giving days extra light. It features the height of the harvest season. In the Celtic Calendar it is known as the Hazel Moon, which represents wisdom, knowledge, and protection. It is a good month to practice shadow work and divination.

Full Corn Moon

The Full Corn Moon, also known as the “Barley Moon,” occurs in October. It signals the end of the harvest season. It is known as the Celtic Vine Moon, representing the height of the harvest; both happiness and wrath are brought forth in the sweetness and bitterness of the end of the harvest. Equilibrium is reached through the extremes of both positive and negative emotions. Light and darkness are also equal at this time.

Hunter’s Moon

Hunting, slaughter, and the preparation for winter are common during the Hunter’s Moon in November. Other names include the “Travel Moon” and the “Sanguine Moon.” This period sees the fading of light as the season shifts rapidly to winter. The Celtic calendar calls this moon the Ivy Moon, and honours the processes of death, decay, and rebirth. Banishment of negative energies are especially potent during this time. Ivy is also known for binding and cooperation as ivy connects even the most crumbling of environments.

Cold Moon

The Cold Moon, also known as the “Frost Moon,” the “Mourning Moon,” and the “Beaver Moon,” this period is known for its cold weather. It may also be referred to as the “Moon Before Yule” and the “Long Nights Moon.” It occurs in December. This moon is also known as the Reed Moon under the Celtic calendar, for the plants used to make wind instruments of haunting sound, mimicking those of the spirits on their way to the underworld. It is occasionally called the Elm Moon. This is a time to speak to spirits recently passed, to meditate, and to reflect on the past and the cycles of life and death.

Blue Moon

Blue moons occur as the third of four full moons in a season, or as the second full moon in a calendar month. The seasonal full moons coincide with the Lenten and Paschal Moons according to the Christian ecclesiastical calendar, to determine the dates of Lent and Easter.

Elder Moon

The final month in the Celtic Calendar is known as the Elder Moon. It represents finality and endings. Elder is fragile, but quick to heal and replenish itself. This is a time for healing and renewal.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

To clarify, the Blue and Elder moons aren't like the monthly named moons. They overlap with the other moons of the year. For example, a Blue Moon, depending on how it's determined, can be during any calendar month. The Cold Moon is usually also the Elder Moon, depending on when the day falls.

Thanks so much for reading, all!

Bb

[oldgcds]

Event One - The Solstice Celebration

Winter’s Solstice, the darkest night of the year; when the long winter reaches its penultimate chapter. Power seeps through the frozen earth, falling from the sky in fattened white flakes and flowing in the veins of those who call it home. The large court, mostly wild and uninhabited by fae or mortal, with cold that eats at flesh and soul, has sent out an open invitation to welcome the solstice in the very heart of it, the city of Silvenar. 

Through the blinding white of the deep snow of the Permafrost, across the silvered-blue of frozen lakes and rivers that cracked and sang with the movement of the living water beneath, between the tall shadows of old, deep-green trees of an ancient wood dressed in hoarfrost; they arrive hungry, bitten by frost. The main hall welcomes all travellers, from the High Courts to the common folk who had managed  to make the long journey. 

The main hall is lined with white oak, cleaved in half to make tables and seating. Fur throws warm the benches and underfoot, while the great hearth-fire licks away at the remaining chill. Large windows of stitched together glass line the stone walls, and through the fern frost, the wildness of the Court is still visible, with fierce winds snagging on drifts of snow, and raging in storms that refuse to relent. A great feast is laid out for the arrival, rich with game and hearty vegetables, cakes and desserts decorated with berries that glisten like jewels. Wine in the deepest red fills every goblet, and ale spills from mugs passed between tables. 

Throughout the streets of Silvenar, festivities pour through every door, leak through the cracks of all the windows. There is music, and decorations in bright colours to chase away the dim, watery light of a long night. Warmth spreads from every hearth and food is in plenty, a gift from the High Court of Winter to its people. Every commoner will dance, and everyone will eat. 

The second night is for the Solstice. In the garden of the Winterhold, with the pale blue roses that bloom only on these grounds, in this unwelcoming soil, a hall is erected. It takes a week of work by skilled ice-melders, who raise the walls and the columns, and cover it in a peaked roof of pure, clear ice. On the columns they breathe ice flowers, the designs stretching from their warm breath to wrap vines and leaves along the height of them, blooming as the ice roses do. The finished construction is a large hall, built like a cathedral, clear as a pane of untouched glass. 

In the centre of the hall the bonfire is erected, large and with flames so hungry they threaten to lick a hole through the roof. Ordinary ice melts, but this enchanted building is made to last and its ice is granted the strength of steel. Great sculptures of ice are constructed outside the building, and through the walls one can view them like a stroll through a gallery, all while the beasts of the coldest court wind their way through the gardens in sight, snow clinging to their thick fur.

An orchestra settles into their seats, and music floods the hall as dancers pick up their skirts and their feet. Dressed in their finery and warm in the yellow of the fire, there is a lightness to the darkest night. An easy joy, ruddy on the cheeks of the attendants of the celebration. This feels like a night that promises something on the horizon, just on the brink of dawn, and there is a shiver of excitement that runs down the length of every spine. 

[poem-today]

A poem by Willa Cather

I Sought the Wood in Winter

I sought the wood in summer              When every twig was green; The rudest boughs were tender,             And buds were pink between. Light-fingered aspens trembled             In fitful sun and shade, And daffodils were golden             In every starry glade. The brook sang like a robin—             My hand could check him where The lissome maiden willows             Shook out their yellow hair.

“How frail a thing is Beauty,”             I said, “when every breath She gives the vagrant summer             But swifter woos her death. For this the star dust troubles,             For this have ages rolled: To deck the wood for bridal             And slay her with the cold.”

I sought the wood in winter             When every leaf was dead; Behind the wind-whipped branches             The winter sun set red. The coldest star was rising             To greet that bitter air, The oaks were writhen giants;             Nor bud nor bloom was there. The birches, white and slender,             In deathless marble stood, The brook, a white immortal,             Slept silent in the wood.

“How sure a thing is Beauty,”             I cried. “No bolt can slay, No wave nor shock despoil her,             No ravishers dismay. Her warriors are the angels             That cherish from afar, Her warders people Heaven             And watch from every star. The granite hills are slighter,             The sea more like to fail; Behind the rose the planet,             The Law behind the veil.”

Willa Cather (1873-1947)

Image: Sunset through Trees - Billy Wilson

[northshoretreevd]

12 Trees That Bloom Even In Winter

Winter, often characterised by its quiet snowfalls, frosty mornings, and muted landscapes, is typically seen as a season of repose for nature and maintenance duties for tree loppers Sydney. The land is silent, animals hibernate, and many trees shed their leaves, leaving skeletal outlines against the cold sky. Yet, even within this quietude, there exists a defiance. A select group of botanical wonders that, despite the odds, burst forth in vibrant blooms. Their blossoms, standing in stark contrast to the pallor of winter, serve as a poetic reminder of life's resilience.

While most plants and trees fade into the background during this season, some unique species challenge the norms, bringing beauty and colour to an otherwise subdued environment.

Here's a closer look at the unique shrubs that bloom even during the coldest months of the year.

Witch Hazel (Hamamelis)

This deciduous shrub produces spidery, fragrant yellow or orange flowers from late fall to early winter. Besides adding colour to the cold months, the witch hazel has been known for its therapeutic properties, particularly its astringent qualities.

Winter Cherry (Prunus subhirtella)

Contrary to its name, the winter cherry is not a cherry tree. Its blooms burst in the heart of winter, presenting delicate pink blossoms. Over time, these flowers evolve into small fruit that attracts birds.

Camellia (Camellia japonica)

Camellias are evergreens that showcase their big, rosy blossoms from late fall to early spring. They are best suited for temperate climates and can provide a lush, vibrant view amid the cold.

Winter Heath (Erica carnea)

This low-growing evergreen shrub provides a carpet of colour in the chilliest times. From December to April, tiny bell-shaped flowers in shades of pink and purple bedeck the plant, making it a winter garden favourite.

Mahonia (Mahonia x media)

With its holly-like leaves and bright yellow flowers, mahonia is a striking presence in the winter garden. Its blossoms are later replaced by blue-black berries that can attract birds.

Sweet Box (Sarcococca)

This modest-sized evergreen shrub is popular not just for its delicate winter blooms, but also for the sweet scent that these flowers release. The fragrance can serve as a gentle reminder of spring even in the depths of winter.

Hellebore (Helleborus)

Often referred to as Christmas or Lenten roses, hellebores are cherished for their early blooming nature. The flowers, ranging from white and green to deep purple, often appear when the snow is still on the ground.

Winter Jasmine (Jasminum nudiflorum)

This is a robust, trailing plant that brings forth a burst of yellow from December to March. Its star-shaped flowers can light up any winter landscape.

Snowdrop (Galanthus)

As its name suggests, the snowdrop is a hardy little bulb that pushes through the frost to present droplet-like white blossoms. These blooms are often seen as the first sign that spring is on the horizon.

Daphne (Daphne bholua)

Daphne is a favourite among gardeners, mainly for its intoxicating aroma. The purple or pink flowers appear in the middle of winter and can fill the surrounding air with a sweet, lemony scent.

Winter-flowering Cherry (Prunus x subhirtella 'Autumnalis')

This is a variety that blooms sporadically throughout the winter, presenting pale pink blossoms. The sporadic blooming means that on any given winter day, there might be a pleasant floral surprise awaiting.

Viburnum (Viburnum x bodnantense)

This tall shrub offers clusters of pink, fragrant flowers from late fall to early spring. Not only does it provide a visual feast, but its aromatic quality makes it a sensory delight as well.

Winter, often labelled as bleak, has its bouquet of joys and colours. The above species shatter the myth of winter being devoid of botanical beauty. Their resilience not only adds aesthetic pleasure but also symbolises hope and endurance.

For gardeners, nature enthusiasts, or anyone seeking solace in nature's wonders, introducing these species into your garden or local parks can transform winter from a time of hibernation to one of celebration. It serves as a beautiful reminder that even in the coldest, most challenging times, life finds a way to express its undying spirit. Celebrate winter with these blooming marvels, and let every petal be a testament to nature's indomitable will.

[mygardenplantsfromnaturesblog]

Christmas Rose

For many ornamental gardeners, winter blooming plants can offer a much needed burst of color in an otherwise barren cool season landscape. Winter blooming types of plants are often hard to come by, especially for those living in regions that experience frequent frosts. Plants like the Christmas rose hellebore (Helleborus) may be a good option. Learning more about Christmas rose flowering time and growing conditions can help landscapers better determine if this plant is a good fit for flower beds and borders. But what is a Christmas Rose Plant? Christmas rose plant is a member of the hellebore family. Like other types of hellebore, these flowers are known for their early season bloom. Christmas rose flowering time will vary greatly depending upon one’s own climate. While the plant may burst into bloom near the holiday season in warmer climates, most will see it begin to flower in late winter or very early spring. Christmas rose hellebore is an evergreen plant which produces glossy foliage, even during winter. As the weather warms, it produces large masses of bright white flowers on short stems. As with many landscaping plants, it should be noted that all parts of the Christmas rose plant are toxic to both humans and pets.     HOW TO Christmas rose plants prefer a garden location that is both shady and sheltered. Many growers also find that the plants are particular about soil pH, requiring a soil that’s either neutral or slightly alkaline. These Christmas rose growing conditions can be achieved through the addition of soil amendments, such as lime. Planting sites should drain well and allow for ample air circulation. Once it’s established, Christmas rose care is minimal. Where Christmas rose growing conditions are exceptionally harsh, their foliage may show signs of damage throughout the coldest parts of winter. You can remove damaged leaves to make way for new growth, which will resume when the time is right. Damage to leaves may also be caused by exposure to intense sunlight. Though they can be divided after several years of growth, most experts suggest that Christmas rose plants be left to grow undisturbed. Once established, landscapers can expect mature Christmas rose helleborus to flourish for many years to come. Read the full article

[theladyofbloodshed]

Part 9 8 (sorry, I can't count) - Finally meeting mama (who is basically lifted from AU ACOSF because everybody loved her)

‘I’m so nervous. I think I might vomit.’

Nesta had packed her belongings. Unpacked. Re-packed. Tipped it all out again. Panicked. Threw herself face first onto the bed and refused to move with all of her clothes strewn around the bed. Then Azriel had flopped down beside her and rested his head on her shoulder blades until they’d both fallen asleep.

Eventually, she had managed to pack once more, choosing simple dresses that she was comfortable in rather than the ones she had originally packed. They were pretty, dainty things to impress that Elain might wear. She looked lovely in them, but they weren’t her. They’d had her tugging at the sleeves and smoothing the flowing skirts when she had tried them on. Nesta had to be herself, no matter how jagged and thorny that was. Nesta had given herself a stern talking to in the mirror of the bathroom that Azriel was with her for who she was.

In Velaris that morning, she had found a florist that kept flowers alive in the winter through her magic and selected a large bouquet of flowers for Azriel’s mother. The florist had bundled them with hessian. It was the first time in a long time that Nesta wished Elain was there. Nesta could recognise the flowers from listening to her sister prattle on about flowers: sunflowers interspersed with red roses and bunches of white asters. The whole collection was pretty and colourful, a welcome sight in winter. However, Nesta worried that the flowers might have a hidden meaning as some flowers did – what if these were flowers for mourning in Illyria?

She’d even found a baker’s and purchased a tray of sticky pastries despite Azriel proclaiming it was unnecessary, that his mother would simply be happy with their arrival. Then she panicked whether his mother might think Nesta didn’t trust her cooking or was flaunting her money.

Never before had Nesta fretted so much over such tiny details. Everything had to be perfect – she had to be perfect.

They stood in the living room, readying themselves to winnow to Illyria. Azriel did not understand mortal customs; did not know that bringing a female to meet his mother had Nesta’s heart pounding so painfully she thought it was cracking her ribs. A male’s mother was always considered a formidable opponent. If Nesta was not worthy of her son, there would be no going back. Her own mother and grandmother had trained her meticulously for this moment. There wasn’t a lord or duke in the mortal lands that Nesta hadn’t learnt the name of; she’d studied family crests, lineage, histories. And none of it mattered here. All of the lessons that she had undertaken in mathematics, literature and music had all been wasted.

Azriel did not sweep away her worries or tell her they had no foundation. It wouldn’t have helped. He’d said plenty of times that his mother would like her, but those feelings still had taken root. They’d burrowed down deep, anchoring her with doubts. Nobody had ever taken to Nesta. Nobody would ever want her to be the female their son brought home.

‘In ten minutes, you will be wondering why you ever let yourself worry over this.’ Azriel pressed a kiss to her brow, holding her face between his warm hands. ‘She will love you as I love you.’

Whether he meant to say it or not, Nesta didn’t know.

They were suddenly sucked away by shadows, pulling them through the coldest spots of darkness.

Colour was in his tan cheeks when they emerged from a sphere of swirling, sable shadows.

A pretty house of cream stone had been built in the foothills of a tall mountain range. Their peaks were capped with snow and the heavy clouds swirling about them suggested another snowfall was likely.

Around the front doors was a lattice with vines snaking through it. Nesta recognised it as honeysuckle that would bloom in the warmer months. The thatched roof was stuffed like a swollen pillow and Nesta was glad to see smoke billowing from the chimney. The air was much colder here, likely from the mountains or they were far more to the north than she had been before. Perhaps both.

At her shiver, Azriel led them on through the winding path flanked by bare trees and bushes that would come alive in fairer weather. Nesta clutched the bouquet of flowers to her body as if it were a shield. The arm that stayed around her shoulders was sturdy, a comforting weight to stop her worries from tugging her into despair.

‘Az?’

A voice called out to them as they removed their snowy shoes on the covered porch. Azriel had bent down and taken off Nesta’s for her. She was too nervous to manage it otherwise. Her hands trembled causing a couple of petals to drift to the wooden floor.

They heard the shuffle of steps across the floorboards. Nesta spied slippers then managed to raise her head. A female turned the corner, eyes widening in surprise when she realised that her son had brought a guest home.

She was as tall as Nesta. Glossy, black hair had been drawn into a braid that fell to her waist. Her black dress was rolled up at the sleeves and a flour-dusted apron had been tied around her narrow waist. Unlike Azriel, her eyes were a honey brown that seemed to shine as she smiled. And she was far younger than Nesta was expecting.

‘You must have smelt that I’d started dinner,’ she said.

‘This is Nesta,’ Azriel said, giving her a small, encouraging push into the hallway. ‘My mother, Rovena.’

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ Nesta replied. Her body was rigid. She didn’t know what to do with her hands as they clutched the bouquet. The attempt at a smile was likely more of a grimace.

His mother smiled again, the warmth running over Nesta like the first day of spring after a long winter. Gently, she moved the bouquet to the side to bring Nesta into an embrace. It was not a hurried thing. A hand splayed out across Nesta’s back, rubbing in a circle then Rovena stepped back slightly to examine Nesta’s face. For once, she did not feel scrutinised or the need to build a defence. His mother had seen who she was and that was enough.

There was no difference in the way she embraced her son either. She swept him into the same tight hug, rubbing his back above his wings. Goodness seemed to seep from her, gentle and comforting.

‘I’m so glad you’re both here,’ she said finally, appraising them once more as if they hadn't just turned up unannounced.

Azriel moved slightly to put an arm around Nesta. His mother watched, her smile growing brighter.

‘Oh! Sorry,’ Nesta spluttered. ‘These are for you. And these.’

Rovena accepted the flowers with a shocked expression - then a pleased one at the box of pastries. ‘You didn’t need to do this.’

‘I told her that about six times,’ Azriel said, grinning slightly.

It almost felt sinful to be sharing a bed in his mother’s house, but Azriel had snorted when Nesta had voiced her concerns. He was half a millennium old, she supposed. She hadn’t worked up the courage to tell him that in the mortal lands, they ought to be married to be behaving this way. However, being the first – and only – female that he had ever introduced to his mother made Nesta’s heart flutter. Every time she recalled that fact, butterflies tickled her stomach.

The bedroom was tidy with few of his belongings within. The walls had been painted a cornflower blue with a thick, sheepskin rug near the empty hearth. Azriel admitted that he only ever stayed at Rosehall around Solstice, but did visit during the year.

His admission about his father had lingered in Nesta’s mind. His mother had a scar running from her forehead across her eyebrow and then her cheek, narrowly missing her eye. Her wings had been mottled with scars. She wondered if he had inflicted them. If she hadn't known, Nesta would never have put her as Azriel’s mother; she seemed closer to a sister in age.

‘How old is she?’

He stilled from unpacking their belongings in the oak wardrobe for a moment. Nesta knew little about her; only that she had been a seamstress and once known Rhysand’s mother. Feyre had said once that he was the bastard child of a camp lord. From his own words, she knew that Azriel had only ever had mere minutes with his mother each week before being cast out to Windhaven, unable to fly.

‘She was seventeen when she had me,’ he said, voice low.

Rovena had remained in the kitchen, kneading bread for dinner, chirping happily that her son and Nesta were staying to a fat, grey cat that sat on the windowsill while they had settled themselves in upstairs.

‘Not by choice.’

There was nothing Nesta could say to soothe that hurt. Life for females was difficult – all females. Azriel had not had a choice in his conception either. And he couldn’t be blamed for it.

She clutched his hand, squeezing it once. Again, she repeated, ‘You are not your father.’

He shook the thought away. ‘Are you settled now? If you’re not comfortable, we can leave.’

There was not a chance that Nesta was leaving now. She’d climbed to the peak of her worries so could finally enjoy the view from the top. They were at their beginning – her and Azriel. There was no turning back now.

Their dinner was enjoyable. As Azriel had predicted, Nesta did not know why she worried. The flowers had been put into a vase in the centre of the table, but they clustered at one end together eating with an informality that she adored. Her male's manners had shined; Azriel tucked both her and his mother into the table, serving them before himself. There was already an ease amongst the three of them as if Rovena’s presence settled them both.

The home was a home. Nesta couldn’t explain it any other way. Objects hadn’t been put away – there was a basket of wool at the other end of the table with knitting needles poking from it, dishes from cooking were in the sink. A candle had dribbled wax down its metal holder on the shelf behind them. Two more cats had arrived, swirling beneath the table to rub against their legs as if they were Azriel’s shadows.  

Rovena spoke gently, her voice never loud, sharing stories of Azriel and of Illyria that made them laugh then she asked Nesta about her life or her son about his. If Rovena knew who Nesta was – the high lady’s sister and Cauldron Made – she never brought up the topic. The conversation swirled easily and time dribbled away. Even Azriel had loosened. The tension that his body seemed to carry melted away in his mother’s presence. Each time that her brown eyes flickered to her son, Nesta didn’t see the revulsion or wariness that Azriel had prepared her for; no, Rovena looked at her son with pride and love and joy. If only he could see it. He seemed unable to look at his mother for more than a few moments before he turned his face away or a shadow came up to obscure him.

Only once they broke into the box of sweet pastries over a cup of tea for dessert, did she mention their relationship. Rovena clasped her hands together, resting her chin on top.

‘Well, you made me wait five hundred years before you brought a female to meet your mother – but Nesta was worth the wait.’

Azriel tucked himself close to Nesta at the table, kissing her on the lips in front of his mother so that Nesta’s cheeks reddened with shock at his boldness.

'She was.’

‘May you have a lifetime of happiness.’

There were baskets hanging from the ceiling near the window where reedy plants hung out of like a sailor in a hammock. Row upon row of spices were gathered in glass jars by the stove. One of the cats, a wiry ginger thing had sprawled out across the slanted rug by the fire. It was a home that Nesta had never known. Not extravagant, not sterile, but filled with warmth and love. She wasn’t sure if she’d want to leave by the end of it.

***

The two females had bundled up beside each other on the couch. Azriel had been forgotten. He remained at the kitchen table, catching up on reports from spies posted around the Continent, combing through every detail like searching grains of sand for any whisper of Koschei or Briallyn. He’d become militant with this mission. Any threat to Nesta needed to be eliminated swiftly before it could grow.  

Occasionally, he rocked back in his chair to peer into the living room. His mother had lifted Nesta’s feet up and tucked them on the couch with a blanket so she felt more at home and they sat close to each other talking quietly. Elta had already made a home on Nesta’s lap; the black cat had curled its tail beneath its chin and was likely purring as Nesta’s hands moved across her fur. Whatever topic his mother had engrossed them in, Nesta looked entirely at ease. That rare smile had made an appearance, crinkling the corner of her eyes, at whatever his mother had said.  

Tonight, they could still have their bliss. Their little piece of paradise would be safe for one more night then all hell would break loose tomorrow.

Azriel had already set the pieces into position. Cassian would meet him on the outskirts of Windhaven, far away from any civilians in the morning. He’d agreed to a meeting there, naively not even asking why Azriel would summon him. Likely because this would never have crossed his mind. That for months, Azriel had been bedding Nesta, falling more in love with her each day.

He’d asked the same of Rhys, asking him to arrive earlier so that he could inform him to stay well away but be ready to spring into action the moment the truth hit.

Azriel wasn’t sure what Cassian would do. But he had to tell him one on one, away from everybody else. He owed it to him. Not that Nesta was his or anything to do with him. In his heart, Azriel knew Rhys would need to be near for whatever eruption came from either of them. Rhys would need to intervene. If anything was said about Nesta, Azriel’s restraint would snap. And with Rhys’ power, he’d be able to pass on the warning to Feyre and Mor.

There were two advantages at least: the first was that Cassian couldn’t winnow so he’d only be able to leave Windhaven by foot or by wings; the second was that Nesta was in Rosehall, safe. There was no place safer.

He spent that night with Nesta curled up in his arms running through every possible outcome. The best would be for his brother to clap him on the back and say he was happy for them; that didn’t seem likely. A brawl would happen. What Cassian and Nesta had shared during the war seemed to give his brother a belief that there was a future for them. Maybe there had been once. Maybe if he’d been better to her, made her a priority or wanted to know Nesta rather than trying to change her into the female he wanted her to be. Cassian would see it as a betrayal. His brother felt too much, wore it too openly. Azriel just hoped he was strong enough to weather his brother’s hurt.

Nesta groaned softly, fighting her eyes open in the dark room. ‘You’re not sleeping.’

‘Sorry.’

She burrowed into him, hands reaching around his body. ‘Did you mean what you said in my home?’

Yes. And he wished he hadn’t panicked and winnowed them to his mother’s front door without another word. Her eyes had widened at his admission. Her mouth had fallen open. Those words had never passed his lips before. To anybody. Then again, no female had ever been introduced to his mother or seen the ruin that was inside of him and not fled.

‘I only tell you the truth.’

‘In that we’re equals,’ she said pressing a kiss to his scarred hand.

The dawn brought churning, grey clouds and flurries of hail that lashed the skin. Nesta had been unable to eat a bite of the food his mother had made at breakfast, her face as bleached of colour as the landscape. Azriel hadn’t eaten either.

He’d took his mother by the elbow to the living room, speaking in rapid Illyrian about what he was going to do even if he hated to speak his native tongue. The story of the Cauldron-Cursed Archeron and the Lord of Bloodshed facing death at the hands of the King had gained wings even in Illyria. Of course, she had known who Nesta Archeron was and had been subtle enough not to act surprised that she had arrived as his girl rather than Cassian’s.

‘A rift has already grown between us. Today, I fear it will become an abyss.’

His mother had stroked a hand down his face, pursing her lips. ‘Remember what you have to gain, not what you could lose. I’ve never seen you so content. Happy. My boy.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘I’ll keep Nesta occupied today.’

Nesta had tried to talk him out of it, begged him not to go and they could remain as a secret a little longer. He was tired of hiding her, tired of keeping secrets from his family. He was being torn in two over it. If they loved him then they would be happy for them just as his mother was.

Obliging Nesta, Azriel took no weapons, not even Truth-Teller. He wasn’t going there to fight. But if it came to it, he would.

@theleafpile @wannawriteyouabook @mis-lil-red

[exlibrisfangirl]

Writing Themes

Tagged by the lovely @takadasaiko 💛 😘

What to do: Copy to a new post and bold the themes in your WIP. Italicize ones loosely covered.

WIP: When Blooms The Rose In Coldest Winter

addiction | beauty | betrayal | change vs. tradition | chaos vs. order | circle of life | coming of age | communication | convention vs. rebellion | corruption | courage | crime and law | dangers of ignorance | darkness and light | death | desire to escape | dreams | displacement | empowerment | facing darkness | facing reality | faith vs. doubt | fall from grace | fame and fortune | (found) family | fate | fear | fear of failure | free will | friendship | fulfilment | good vs. bad | government | greed | guilt and forgiveness | hard work | heroism | hierarchy | honesty | hope | identity crisis | immortality | independence | individual vs. society | inner vs. outer strength | innocence | injustice | isolation | knowledge vs. ignorance | life | loneliness | lost love | love | man vs. nature | manipulation | materialism | motherhood | nature | nature vs. nurture | oppression | optimism | peer pressure | poverty | power | power of words | prejudice | pride | progress | quest | racism | rebirth | relationships | religion | responsibility | revenge | sacrifice | secrets | self-awareness | self-preservation | self-reliance | sexuality | social class structure | survival | technology | temptation and destruction | time | totalitarianism | weakness | vanity | war | wealth | wisdom of experience | youth

Tagging: @seven-oomen @greyhavenisback @beaconfeels @rosieposiepuddingnpie @teenwerewoofs @rebakitt3n @shealynn88 @alphadiablo29 @derpylittlenico @jacyevans @oftincturedwords

[thewitchofbooks]

"Christmas delight" Chevalier Michel x (gender neutral) Reader

AN: Hello everyone!! Thank you very much for all the support all this time! I decided to post some winter fluff (another sleepy Chevalier fic)! I hope you enjoy~

Warnings: Fluff, (probably bad English)

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Character: Chevalier Michel

The kingdom of Rhodolite was dusted in cold sparkling snow, the once blooming, deciduous trees had now let go of their beloved leaves and were getting ready for the new season. The hundreds of roses that were once decorating every corner of the kingdom were also gone, but the people decided to decorate the various evergreen plants with a plethora of twinkling lights and Christmas ornaments.

The same could be said for the palace, that stood grand for everyone to see. It was officially the season where people went to shop to prepare for the coldest days and the children run around throwing snowballs and making snow angels on the ground.

You sighed dreamily at the idea of going out one of these days, hoping to convince your lover to follow along and enjoy it as much as you. Your gaze turned away from the window and you looked at the pocket watch in your hand. It was still early, but your excitement didn't seem to go away.

That was the main reason why you decided to take off and go to Chevalier's bedroom to wake him up. Other reasons were that you both had these few days off and you needed to see him.

You hid the watch protectively in your pocket and made your way to your destination. With careful moves and steps, you opened the door and went inside, only to be met by a big lump covered by a huge, fluffy blanket.

You giggled and tip toed closer, until you were standing next to him.

"Chevalier" You whispered softly and tried to pry the blanket away, but Chevalier was gripping it too hard even while he was sleeping. It resulted to you bursting out laughing, which woke up the sleeping beauty besides you.

One blue eye cracked open and a frown was shown on the man's face. His disheveled, angelic hair fell on the pillow and became even messier as he attempted to bury himself even deeper.

"Chevalier,  bad! You have to wake up! The holidays are coming very soon and I want you to have fun." No sound was made after that, so you played with the ends of his locks that weren't hidden.

Chevalier saw that as an opening and quickly stuck his hand out and caught your wrist, before throwing you on the bed and hugging you to his strong chest. Your eyes widened in surprise and you blinked rapidly.

The prince emerged from his "cave" and smirked proudly of his achievement in getting you in bed. He wrapped one arm tighter around your middle to ensure you weren't too cold and that you wouldn't escape to get him up.

"What do you....want...it's too early." His hoarse, lethargic voice reached your ears and they warmed up with a crimson blush decorating them. You shook your head and slowly run your hands on his clothed chest, before pushing them inside for  more warmth.

"And now...I'm your heater" You playfully glared at him and he snorted in return.

"Hey, you are the one who wouldn't go out with me. I might as well take advantage of the situation" Chevalier hummed and leaned over to kiss you passionately, your tongues tangling between, before pulling away.

"....." Chevalier didn't say a single word as he fixed the comforter to cover you too under it. When he was finished, his deep blue eyes gazed at yours with a rare, serene light and you felt yourself being drowned in the rich colour.

"If you're thinking of leaving, then you better stay because there's no way out" A lovely smile broke out on his face, more blinding than any Christmas light, that you could only nod and agree.

You closed your eyes, relaxed your body and bathed in the comfort of the snuggles.

The End

AN: Thank you once again for reading!

[thequilledsabre]

The Beautiful Ugly

Seething rage rests within your chestnut eyes

At the news of my heart’s dearest confession.

I pray you give me leave to say all that must be said

& to see yourself through my own eyes for but a moment.

You said yourself that I could have others more beautiful,

Baffled at the thought a man would love

What you have deemed ugly.

I know that professions like this

Can be corny & messy.

I know that I appear to be vile & rotten,

As I bear every one of my scars & blemishes

Before your judging glares.

But I ask you to look beyond my filth,

To see me as I truly am in this moment of vulnerability.

Maybe your eyes have trained you to see a banshee in the mirror,

To perceive thick brown wires in the place of your hair.

While I have seen roses whose blossoms are red than your lips,

& I see no flowers blooming upon your cheeks,

I know within my heart that you are more splendid than these.

While a harp’s tune is more sonorous than your voice,

Please do not stop speaking to me.

I’m aware of the lies you’ve convinced yourself to believe.

There was a time I believed clothes fit better on others,

That perfumes were more pleasant than my company

& that no matter the labor I would perform,

There’d always be people who wouldn’t care.

But theirs is a kind I entertain no longer -

Only your presence I seek now.

While there are other faces constructed more delicately,

It is yours that has become the wanting home of my gaze.

I beg you not to believe that what I speak is mere flirtations,

For such candied words meant only to gild lilies

Have no place in these lines I write to you.

I offer no honeyed words to fill your head

Just as many others have no doubt done so.

Even with crooked teeth & lazy eyes,

Pocket faces like that of your namesake,

Voices that make others shriek in terror,

Grasps like that of the coldest winters

& bodies others have abused & cast aside,

I find you to be the most beautiful thing

Anyone has ever called ugly before.

I’ve seen the beautiful woman you are deep,

Deep down in the place you’ve locked away from all of the world.

You see the truth is,

Yours is a kind far harder to find than even the rarest of all gems.

It’s your laughter alone that warms my heart,

Your smile that makes every fiber of my being sigh,

& your star-lit eyes that captivate me so.

I speak from my tattered & tired soul,

When I tell you that your angelic beauty

is something that would make the Cosmos envious.

I’ve withheld these cautiously-chosen words to uphold our friendship,

But these I can no longer keep to myself.

Like exotic birds in a cage,

They must be freed from the prison of my spirit.

I might be the king of fools,

But I’ve found that it’s a fool’s heart

That loves the deepest & purest of all -

& it’s this fragile thing I gift to you.

While it’s neither worth neither gold nor silver

& it cannot grant you dominion over all the earth,

It will beat only for you.

I would do anything for your happiness,

Even if it meant burying these feelings deep within the sands of time.

You’ve told me that you’re imperfect,

So why would anybody love you?

But I think it doesn’t matter if either one of us is perfect.

Love can be enough,

If you only have the courage to try.

[violettesiren]

I sought the wood in summer When every twig was green; The rudest boughs were tender And buds were pink between. Light-fingered aspens trembled In fitful sun and shade, And daffodils were golden In every starry glade. The brook sang like a robin— My hand could check him where The lissome maiden willows Shook out their yellow hair.

"How frail a thing is Beauty," I said, "when every breath She gives the vagrant summer But swifter woos her death. For this the star dust troubles, For this have ages rolled; To deck the wood for bridal And slay her with the cold."

I sought the wood in winter When every leaf was dead; Behind the wind-whipped branches The winter sun set red. The coldest star was rising To greet that bitter air, The oaks were writhen giants; Nor bud nor bloom was there. The birches, white and slender, In deathless marble stood, The brook, a white immortal, Slept silent in the wood.

"How sure a thing is Beauty," I cried. "No bolt can slay, No wave nor shock despoil her, No ravishers dismay. Her warriors are the angels That cherish from afar, Her warders people Heaven And watch from every star. The granite hills are slighter, The sea more like to fail; Behind the rose the planet, The Law behind the veil."

I Sought the Wood In Winter by Willa Cather

[adam-memeleri]

flowers

@wayhavensummer day 4

-

G Rating (they're just soft)

Nat x Detective (Hyacinth, she/they)

~800 words

-

It started with a rose. A pink one, to be specific.

A single, pink rose placed oh-so carefully on Hyacinth’s desk, with a note sitting beneath it. A single, perfect pink rose, with a single, perfectly written note reading ‘This reminded me of you,’ beneath it.

Hyacinth chuckles, tucking a fallen strand of equally pink hair behind her ear as her eyes trace over the lettering again and again and again. They fall into the chair behind the large desk, spinning in it in a quick, joyful circle. Their fingers caress the soft petals, the flower bending ever so slightly at the touch, with a smile just as soft on red-painted lips.

It’s all so perfect, so mesmerisingly beautiful, so unbelievably joyful, and so far from the typical day she had expected when she left this morning, winter boots laced up and thick jacked zipped tight. It’s happiness, even in the coldest of winter, and bleakest of days.

It’s happiness, the way that pale pink rose sits in an emptied out pencil cup for the rest of the day. It’s happiness, the way Hyacinth searches every corner of her apartment that night for a vase. It’s happiness, the way they can’t take their eyes off it, even when it’s wilted and brown.

---

Then it’s a small sunflower, yellow petals spreading like the sun, and they’re just as warm, too.

It’s resting on a stack of Hyacinth’s files when they enter, a shock of vibrance in their cold and dreary office. The petals blow in the wind from the air conditioner, looking alive and bright in the dead of January.

Hyacinth smiles to themself again, carefully untucks the note from beneath it again. ‘To brighten your winter,’ in looping letters that Hyacinth wants to trace until her finger can’t anymore.

She simply adores it, everything about it. The gesture, the flower, those letters. So much adoration, that it pounds in their chest, that it splinters their ribs and spills sunlight through the cracks.

So much adoration, that Hyacinth puts it on her coffee table this time.

---

Hibiscus is next, blooming in gradient shades of purple and white on Hyacinth’s doormat. She’s just returned from a day out shopping, and drops the bags where she stands.

The tip of a pale green fingernail follows the curve of it, follows the watercolour-like blending outwards from the center. “Cute,” they hum, lifting it carefully and cradling it in their palm. A proper envelope sits beneath it this time, and she slips it into her pocket as she stands.

Shopping bags spread out on the kitchen counters, they carefully undo the seal on the envelope, carefully unfold the parchment and carefully read the writing.

‘The clerk said that hibiscus means beauty. I think it’s quite fitting, don’t you? Yours Truly, Nat.’

“Even cuter.”

---

Daisy’s litter the desk when Hyacinth enters her office after a long day, the single lamp flicked on casting long shadows that stretch and stretch. They follow behind them, each of their movements that lead them to the scattered petals, the peaks of white standing out in the dark.

They enclose a letter, the same as before, with a shiny, red wax seal and all. They enclose it in the shape of a heart, sloping over papers and pens and the desktop’s keyboard.

“Cheesy,” Hyacinth grins to herself. And it is. Cheesy and innocent and sending a blush across the detective’s face.

‘I hope your night improves, Detective. I know you improved mine. Yours Truly.’

“Cheesy.”

Hyacinth adds the letter to their growing collection when they arrive home, gently placing it in the little, painted box alongside the others. The wildflowers adorning the sides in flowing rainbows shift in the light as she closes the lid, taking care that isn’t wholly necessary.

---

The red tulip stops Hyacinth’s heart right where it beats in their chest, blood as red as the flower coming to a halt.

She swallows, stops in her tracks and simply stares at the flower waiting for her on her beat-up doormat. It’s bright against the dingy floors of her apartment building, shining like a siren and just as alarming.

Their fingers wrap around the stem, snap up the folded note and shove the door open as quickly as they can.

‘May we speak tonight?’ stares back at her when the door swings shut, thudding against the frame, reverberating in her skull. A punctuation mark and a heart attack all in one.

---

Yarrow. The latest, but certainly not the last. Yarrow.

It rests in her pocket as she walks to her car, as she drops into her office chair, as she types out a report about a stolen mailbox. It rests above her heart, a slip of fabric away from where she feels it most.

‘I love you,’ they reread at lunch, on their break, when their shift ends.

“Love you too,” Hyacinth whispers back every time.

[sepedarodatiga]

The Snow Queen fairytale as a motif used in GoT/ASOIAF

First of all, how many fairytales and myths can GRRM fit into this story, seriously?? I know many have written well thought and well informed meta of various fairytale motives fit with ASOIAF/GoT, and I am just here adding into an already huge pile, but it bothers me, okay. I have to get it out there into the tumblr void. And this is not really a well thought and well informed meta (I’m not a folklore/literature expert, not to mention European folklore/literature), I’m just pointing my fingers into the patterns I saw fit. Also, I can’t count myself as ASOIAF book reader, I just watch the show. What I know about the books, I read it here in tumblr. 

But anyway, you might be surprised as to which character I saw fit as The Snow Queen in GoT

It’s Daenerys Targaryen.

I know I know... whaat? The Mother of Dragons, Bride of Fire as The Snow Queen? Get out of here, right...

But it’s a pun. It’s not The Snow Queen, it’s Jon Snow’s Queen, get it? Remember how Jon repeatedly saying “you’re my queen” to Dany during season 8? Yeah. Oh and Jon is Kay, while Sansa is Gerda. 

What made me realize that Dany is The Snow Queen is when I was reading my son the fairytale. In the version retold by Kate Friend, it describes The Snow Queen as beautiful and terrible. And I was like, huh, just like Dany, especially with the white hair and the all white costume in season 8. 

Daenerys Targaryen, beautiful and terrible.

And then of course the story went on describing how Kay becomes her prisoner and then I was like, well that’s like Jon Snow during season 8 too.... And then in Disney’s adaptation Frozen, Elsa has white hair with purple eyeshadow, while Anna (Gerda) has....red hair....which is like... Sansa Stark. Then I also remember the illustration on my son’s book which is by John Patience, that reminded me of the Iron Throne.

The Snow Queen illustration by John Patience. See how much alike this setting is with the Red Keep? Especially in Dany’s vision in HoTU when snow was falling.

So I went investigating, and shit... I mean obviously the sequencing was moved around, GRRM likes to subvert things, but my God!

Before we get into Jon Snow and his queen, I have to start with the other characters first. And I will be taking excerpt of the story from The Hans Christian Andersen Center website which I assume would be the most original one.

Gerda = Sansa Stark

Here is a description of Gerda’s power:  “No power that I could give could be as great as that which she already has. Don't you see how men and beasts are compelled to serve her, and how far she has come in the wide world since she started out in her naked feet? We mustn't tell her about this power. Strength lies in her heart, because she is such a sweet, innocent child.”

Furthermore, her connection with Kay are through roses (they have a window box full of roses) and a song that goes like this:  "Where roses bloom so sweetly in the vale, There shall you find the Christ Child, without fail." Another variation of the song is: “The rose in the valley has flowers so sweet, and angels come down there the children to greet.” She saved Kay with her prayers, hugs, kisses, tears and her song and their reunion literally ended winter and brings spring. If that’s not Sansa Stark (and the jonsa reunion), then I don’t know what is.

Gerda made a journey to the North to find Kay and bring him back together with her to their home. Sansa did not meant to make a journey North to find Jon and bring him back home, but this is what happened anyway. The story even stressed on the fact that when they came back to their homes, they were no longer children but grown ups. On her quest Gerda offered her red shoes to the river to get information about Kay’s whereabouts but the red shoes were given back to her the first time. But she did it once again and the river set her on the path to find Kay. I’m not really sure but for Sansa it could be her betrothal to Joffrey that was then canceled but then she got married to Tyrion Lannister. Her red shoes is her name and her claim to the North.

Gerda then met an old woman who wanted to keep her and made her forget about Kay by keeping all the roses underground. The old woman’s place was beautiful. Here is an excerpt:  “Then Gerda was led into the flower garden. How fragrant and lovely it was! Every known flower of every season was there in full bloom. No picture book was ever so pretty and gay. Gerda jumped for joy, and played in the garden until the sun went down behind the tall cherry trees. Then she was tucked into a beautiful bed, under a red silk coverlet quilted with blue violets. There she slept, and there she dreamed as gloriously as any queen on her wedding day.” But then she saw a rose on the old woman’s hat and finally remembers her purpose of finding Kay. I would say that the old woman is Cersei Lannister who tried to make Sansa forget about her home and her innocence. Sansa was also saved from her clutch by roses (The Tyrells).

Then Gerda with information from a crow, met a Princess and Prince. She thought that the Prince might be Kay, but it turns out he was not. This might be Sansa’s vale arc and the Prince is either Petyr Baelish or Harry Hardyng. The Prince and Princess also gave provisions for Gerda’s journey to the North, so this may be that the KoTV helps Sansa getting Winterfell back. The crow, has a ladylove, another crow and they finally get married and live in the Princess’s castle though unfortunately the crow then died. The crow was a wild forest crow while his ladylove is a tame crow. These two crows could be genderbent into Sam Tarly and Gilly. Remember that Sam is mock as Jon’s ladylove by Alliser Thorne?

Next Gerda met a robber girl who sleeps with a knife and have plenty of pigeons. Yep, of course that is very much like Arya Stark (who sometimes is being referred to as “a girl”)

The pigeons told Gerda about Kay and The Snow Queen. The robber girl finally gave Gerda her reindeer called Bae for her journey to the North. The girl likes to tickle the reindeer’s neck with her knife. At the end of the story it is told that the robber girl then decided to leave her place and find adventure in the world. Very much like Arya’s ending.

Now about that reindeer Bae who helped Gerda to reach to Kay in The Snow Queen’s palace in the far North. In ASOIAF/GoT, we can connect Bae to Baelish. Make sense. Petyr Baelish helps Sansa get to North and Arya’s knife did end up in his neck. But also we can connect it to two foreshadowing of Sansa bearing Jon’s child. The first is more well-known: Bael the Bard. The second one I think is more hidden and I made a post about it quite long ago: Baelor. Is this far fetched? Maybe, but I’ll take it.

Kay = Jon (+ The Night King)

Kay and Gerda are neighbours and they share a garden (particularly a flower box full of roses). Their relationship, in the words of Hans Christian Andersen himself are: “These children were not brother and sister, but they loved each other just as much as if they had been.” So they are NOT brother and sister but love each other as such. While Jon and Sansa are also NOT brother and sister but was raised as such.

Then Kay got splinters of magic mirror stuck to his eyes and his heart. The mirror “made everything great and good that was reflected in it appear small and ugly, but which magnified all evil things until each blemish loomed large”. It made Kay hated all the roses, they look ugly now to his eyes and also made Kay loved the snow and the cold. Jon Snow at the beginning of the story was a cynical little boy because he was raised as a bastard. He wanted to leave Winterfell and sneered at the idea of having a family of his own because he felt that he can’t have them. So he went to the coldest place there is.

In the story, Kay plays with his sled, and then The Snow Queen came with her sled and Kay hooked his sled to hers. The Snow Queen first, covers Kay in a bearskin rug and gave Kay kisses. The first kiss “was colder than ice. He felt it right down to his heart, half of which was already an icy lump. He felt as if he were dying, but only for a moment. Then he felt quite comfortable, and no longer noticed the cold”. The second kiss makes Kay forgets about Gerda and their homes. The third kiss, The Snow Queen does not give him because it would be the kiss of death.

I argue that GRRM subvert this story. I think Jon Snow was already saved by Sansa before he met Dany. The splinters in his eyes and heart was already gone when he faced The Snow Queen. The reunion happened before he met Dany. The first two kisses also already happened: Jon Snow had died and came alive again, and he also forced to forget about his home and family while he was at the Night’s Watch. The bearskin rug which The Snow Queen used to cover Kay can allude to Jeor Mormont and/or Longclaw. 

Then Jon Snow met his queen finally, but instead of a hooking sleds.... it’s dragons. Jon Snow’s sled was his dragon Rhaegal which are hooked to Dany’s sled Drogon. But his eyes wasn’t blinded by the splinter and his heart were already warm. He knowingly and willingly follow the dragon to save his family.

And the third kiss of death that wasn’t given by The Snow Queen? Jon Snow will give it to his queen instead.

Now let’s go back a little bit. Kay was also given a puzzle from ice by The Snow Queen, and if he can solve it then he is free. He was supposed to spell the word “eternity” but he couldn’t figure it out with the shard in his eyes and heart. In GoT we know exactly who has got an shard in his heart.

The Night King. And so that is why he plays with puzzle in ice. He is struggling to form the one symbol that would set him free.

Bonuses

Other than those patterns, there are several interesting tidbits from the story that fits with ASOIAF. There is this one blog said that The Snow Queen story was inspired by another story called “East of the Sun and West of the Moon” which if you read it, it is essentially “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” (the bear is a white bear, by the way)

More bonuses here. When Gerda finally remembers to find Kay during her time in the old woman’s home because of the rose, different flowers gave her different stories even though none tells her about Kay.

This is the story from tiger lily:

"Do you hear the drum? Boom, boom! It was only two notes, always boom, boom! Hear the women wail. Hear the priests chant. The Hindoo woman in her long red robe stands on the funeral pyre. The flames rise around her and her dead husband, but the Hindoo woman is thinking of that living man in the crowd around them. She is thinking of him whose eyes are burning hotter than the flames-of him whose fiery glances have pierced her heart more deeply than these flames that soon will burn her body to ashes. Can the flame of the heart die in the flame of the funeral pyre?"

So GRRM didn’t take the sati ritual for Dany’s rites of passage as mother of dragons from just anywhere, but it is from this story.

Also, hear this story from hyacinth

"There were three sisters, quite transparent and very fair. One wore a red dress, the second wore a blue one, and the third went all in white. Hand in hand they danced in the clear moonlight, beside a calm lake. They were not elfin folk. They were human beings. The air was sweet, and the sisters disappeared into the forest. The fragrance of the air grew sweeter. Three coffins, in which lie the three sisters, glide out of the forest and across the lake. The fireflies hover about them like little flickering lights. Are the dancing sisters sleeping or are they dead? The fragrance of the flowers says they are dead, and the evening bell tolls for their funeral."

Of course this immediately bring to memory the quote of Jon Snow with Val: “The light of the half-moon turned Val’s honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. “The air tastes sweet.”” Well then, according to Hans Christian Andersen, that means death. There are three sisters here which could allude to the three queens at the almost end of GoT: Cersei Lannister (red), Sansa Stark (blue) and Daenerys Targaryen (white).

So those are my stab at it. I would be interested to hear if anyone’s take on it.

[reynaruina]

It had been such a long time that he had to watch a fucking YouTube video to remember how to make hot chocolate.

Fuck, and good thinking, because it was nothing like he imagined. When you were a kid you had the powder and the mug, and you just poured some milk and stirred that bad boy until it was a muddy color...

That had been kids’ chocolate milk. This was motherfucking AMBROSIA IN A MUG.

He filled a pot with water and placed another metal container inside to heat up the milk without boiling it directly. The tiny carton he was able to afford was just enough to fill up his mug, so he had to be careful. 

He then placed two rose petals he had stolen from Mrs Marsh’s front garden into the milk, to make it look slightly pinkish. He gently removed them. By then, his kitchen, whose usual stench was a mix of old clothing and dubious substances, now smelled like early spring. Flowery, but also with the comfort of warmth after the coldest day of winter, which would linger with him as much as he wanted. A bit of sugar, borrowed from a neighbour, a pinch of salt, and then...

Oh, then. Chocolate.

*Godiva chocolate*. You just had to quickly Google the thing to know how valuable it was, how many extensive processes those grains went through. You just had to smell the bar to transport yourself to a cocktail party in a posh New York penthouse where everyone wore gold thread dresses and diamond cuffs.

He felt like a guilty heathen for considering putting the chocolate in the milk while he prepared  it. But he did it, because Zim had given him the chocolate. Because Zim was expecting him to consume it, and because Dib needed to assimilate the gesture on a molecular level—mix it with his blood, make it burst through his capillaries. He needed to soak his soul with it, and the only way was pouring it into his malnourished body, giving it sense and reason to be.

There was pride in his eyes when he managed a creamy, dark substance. It was not like the muddy water of cocoa powder. This was top notch, expensive-ass CEO level chocolate milk. The type that stayed in his mind forever, the capstone of his cooking piece. Gordon Ramsay could eat an entire ass.

It almost didn't need the milk he ended up adding, but the tutorial had been clear about that. Chocolate could be slightly acidic, and sugar was alkaline enough to cut the acid, make it gentler for his stomach. Dib definitely needed gentle in that area. He would never forgive himself if he felt the slightest discomfort with something he had longed for so hard.

Meeting his creation face to face made Dib feel like Dr. Frankenstein meeting with his creature. . Only this was the opposite, because this mug was pretty as fuck, and he couldn't wait to enjoy its company, the secrets unveiling in his tastebuds. He only hoped they weren't damaged with years of cup noodles and he could appreciate it accordingly.

His hands were cold, normally freezing at any time of the year. He had skeleton fingers with the slightest blanket of skin. His fingertips were slightly swollen, and he knew this was due to blood pressure issues. Bad eating habits, lots of salt in his foods. Hypertension wasn’t something he was unfamiliar with, but he hoped it would wait to appear until later in his life.

The mug felt right in his fingertips, extending the warmth all the way to his chest.

His smile bloomed shyly with the first sniff at the chocolate milk.

Zim had given it to him.

Zim was in this mug, in the scent, in the warmth of the liquid. He was the right temperature of the milk, the pinch of salt. He was the lunch, the agitation and the peace. Zim was the spark of life that still smoldered in his heart, burning to be the ultimate defender.

Zim was the sweetness of the chocolate. It had to be searched for, but ended up as a piece of Godiva chocolate melting in his insides and taking sweet ownership of his cells, armoring his defenses, filling up the rivers of his fantasies.

Thinking of this allowed him a moment until the milk cooled down, and he drank a sip.

He could have cried.

He had to take a moment to savor it. The gentle kiss of sugar. A halo of immediate peace covering his body , providing a bandaid over some of the old wounds in the memory of his wretched childhood.

Whatever had happened on the day he was in bed after breaking a leg, it was now a fun story about having a mug of chocolate in his hands and admiring the rain outside.

Suddenly he was an okay guy, a normal person, standing in his kitchen. He wasn't a mess of a human being. He wasn't a mass of limbs and blood and piss and beer. He was a guy. A guy with a job, a guy in his apartment, having a comforting drink, like your average Joe.

He was not a skeleton, he was a person. A human, not an animal. He could make rational decisions. He got tired like anyone else. He paid rent, he walked under the sun like the rest of his kind.

There, in his home, holding the mug and putting nutrients inside himself, he felt right. Looking out the window like the other millions while sipping on his chocolate milk, he could put his own problems in perspective. He could put aside the alien invasion for five minutes. He could remove himself from hatred and pain.

Now Halfway through his mug, he sat on his chair, turning around to feel the sun on his pale face. Ah, more warmth. Was it always like this? He wished he could tell his 12-year-old self to bask in it. He wished he could tell him, "hey, put on those dorky sunglasses that Gaz mocked you about, and enjoy the sun." He wished he could go back and find the Godiva chocolate before, and give half a bar to Zim.

When he finished the drink, his stomach was heavy. The good kind of heavy. It was chilly outside, in the 50′s, but he felt warm all over. He knew he needed a coat, and maybe pants, and to turn on the heater probably, but for the moment he was feeling all right.

He was feeling all kinds of right.

He stood up, looking around. On the way to take his mug back to the dishwasher, he also grabbed a few pants and shirts lying around the room to place in the laundry basket.

Once in the kitchen, he absentmindedly threw some styrofoam noodle cups in the trash, as well as some paper wraps and beer cans.

He then took a shower, got dressed, and looked in the mirror.

“Hey, who's that smiling guy?” he wondered.

“Looks like me.”

_____________

Illustration by me, ficlet written by the Amazing @anarchymorty!!!! I Highly recommend you check out their blog, their writing is incredible :D

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Pt 1 2 3 4  5 6  7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

[thesimperiuscurse]

FINE. All of them for EVA. Jerk

NO U. aight i’m gonna answer these for the start of chapter 6, two weeks from the end of chapter 5. 

zinc white; how are you really feeling today? no one-word answers please! 

ready to kick ass, make the most of her work day, determined for upcoming regionals and exams. nothing is yet to trouble her.  

cadmium yellow; when you think of the word “happy” what’s the first thing that comes to mind? 

the faces of her family. they are what she loves most in the world. 

lemon; what’s your comfort food?

in winter, her mom makes rich and creamy soups with veggies from the garden. pair that with soft buns fresh from the oven, and it’s guaranteed to comfort eva on the coldest and dreariest days.  

hansa yellow; what’s your guilty pleasure song? 

classic justin timberlake songs, like cry me a river. 

yellow ochre; name an artist/band whom you just discovered & can’t get enough of! 

just yesterday i found a new one for eva, an electronic artist named kloud. there’s one song in particular, humans, the lyrics and intense beat of which she’s super vibing with.    

naples yellow; where do you feel most at home?

the family villa in malibu. cherry and gabriel made sure to raise their children in a happy, secure, peaceful home. no repeat of their own turbulent and traumatic childhoods. 

raw sienna; with whom do you feel most at home?

again, her family. 

golden ochre; describe the relationship you have with your closest friend. 

eva doesn’t have a best friend. all the people she’s really close to are members of her family. she’s always been far too ballet-focused to maintain deep relationships with anyone outside of her family. however, she’s now growing very comfortable with sasha, piper, misha, and mako. they’re all quite bantery with each other. 

golden deep; what’s your favorite season? 

summer. always. 

cadmium orange; what do you like to do on your days off? 

her day off is sunday. currently — she wakes up at 8:30, has a slow breakfast with piper in the cafe, checks in with the academy physiotherapist at 11:00, and the rest of the day is loosely scheduled for gym, procrastinating maths homework, kickboxing, visiting family, playing her guitar, or watching netflix.   

orange lake; do you have anyone you can turn to when you’re sad? 

she has a super strong support system in all her family members, but her mom in particular. cherry is always checking up by call whether her daughter is happy and healthy. 

titans; do you prefer slow mornings or relaxing evenings? 

slow mornings. eva can’t wake up before eight, and if she’s forced to, she’ll get cranky. she wakes up when the sun does. 

shakhnazaryan red; are you currently binge-watching anything? 

not binging, but she’s slowly working through sex education on netflix. 

red ochre; are you more right-brained (creative) or left-brained (analytical)? 

right-brained. she can’t analyse for shit, unless she’s working something out using empathy and emotional intelligence. like misha, in that sense. 

burnt sienna; is there a painting that brings you peace when you look at it? 

she’s not one to enjoy the silent purity of art galleries. she prefers to explore nature and breathe in the ever-changing beauty of the earth. the sight of the sea always brings her peace. 

english red; what animal do you relate to most? 

probably a dumb but very cute and energetic dog.

vermilion; what’s your favorite accent?

scottish? she finds limmy’s show hilarious.  

cadmium red; do you have a “type” when it comes to a significant other? 

for summer boyfriends: hot surfer boys, tall and athletic, that have a big smile and laugh, laidback yet adventurous, sunkissed with messy sea-salted hair. in other words, mako ain’t it. for a significant other: she hasn’t thought about it. a serious romantic relationship is not in her interest for now.  

scarlet; describe your current crush/es. 

no crushes. or at least, she hasn’t realised she has one yet. hehe.  

ruby; what does your ideal first date look like? 

eva doesn’t actually go on proper dates. she can’t be bothered with awkward conversations and formalities. she might grab an icecream with a guy, surf and play sports, or go to a bonfire beach party together.    

carmine; what does your ideal second date look like? 

hook up with him, i guess. 

madder lake red; would you ever kiss someone (or accept a kiss) on a first date? 

if it isn’t clear by now, eva gives absolutely zero fucks about traditions or ‘rules’ around dating. her relationships are in friend-with-benefits territory, and she goes straight for what she wants.

rose; what’s something really positive going on in your life right now?

the family puppy, senor papperino. her siblings send her a million pictures of him as he grows up. a bittersweet joy.  

quinacridone rose; what’s something you’re really looking forward to?

her cousin amaya is getting married to amir next year, a spring wedding in the sonoran desert. eva’s helping her with the planning and dress design, which lilith is to create.     

violet rose; what does your dream house look like? 

a simple beach house, warm with natural light, that sits gently in nature. small, because her time spent inside is minimal. she really isn’t impressed with flashy luxuries.  

violet; is there any place in particular you’d like to settle down? 

a place right by the beach. she loves malibu and would want to stay close to her family. 

blue lake; what would you like to do/accomplish before you settle down? 

honestly, ‘settling down’ is something she’s barely thought about. she’s going to dance professionally as long as she can, maybe become a teacher like darcy, and explore her other passions, like surfing and environmental conservation. the traditional concept of marrying then having children is one that she feels may happen to her naturally, rather than she HAS to settle down at a specific point in her life. it’s just not on her priority list. 

cobalt blue spectral; what is the most beautiful place you have ever been to?

the most beautiful place in the world in eva’s mind is the garden at her family home, which blooms with dandelion clocks in summer, full of fruit trees, and is right by her favourite beach. her happiest childhood memories lie there. 

ultramarine; when was the last time you were in a good mood? do you know/remember what sparked it? 

at the moment, eva’s always in a good mood, because she’s in a place where she’s working at her greatest passion everyday. she’s friends with mako now, so the only person that could really put her in a bad mood is vicky. 

blue; what’s the most recent dream you remember? 

she can’t remember any of her dreams. 

bright blue; what does your dream family look like? any kids or pets? how many of each? 

since eva doesn’t really care about getting married, that hasn’t crossed her mind. she already has a broad, loving, ‘dream’ family, and her siblings are bound to have kids, so she doesn’t feel any pressure. she would be perfectly happy spending time with her nieces/nephews instead. a cute dog is a definite, though, probably another golden retriever.  

blue cobalt; do you like your name? would you give yourself a different name if you could? 

evangeline’s named after one of the strongest women in her life. she’s proud to have inherited the name, and hopes to live up to it.  

prussian azure; what’s your favorite scent? 

grapefruit, sea salt. 

azure blue; what’s your favorite type of tea, if any?

she’s a coffee person, but in summer, her mom likes to brew iced tea with fruits and herbs from the garden, which eva loves. 

turquoise blue; if you could start a garden, what would you plant?

lots of citrus trees. plants that can grow wild and thrive on their own. 

cerulean blue; if you were guaranteed to have a viewership, would you start a youtube vlog? 

i can picture eva vlogging, but in reality she’s too busy dancing for that shit. she prefers to live her life off screen, grounded in her reality.  

glauconite; describe your body without using any negative adjectives.

“jacked as fuck”

yellow green; picture yourself walking in a field. what do you see & hear in this scenario?

a field of tiny wildflowers on the dry coastal hills of malibu. the sun is burning bright, the sea is crashing against the beaches below, the wind is pulling wild at her hair. 

green light; are you in a comfortable place in life? if not, what do you think might make it better?

eva’s always striving to be more than just comfortable. her ambition means she’s already achieved an impressive amount in life, and she’s happy with how she’s moving along, but she’s forever shooting for the stars. 

green; name three countries you want to visit; do you have any actual plans in place to visit any of them?

she can’t afford to travel at the moment but hawaii, spain, greece.  

emerald green; do you speak any languages besides english? are there any additional languages you want to learn? 

a tiny bit of spanish, korean, and german from gabriel, but nowhere near fluently. she would like to improve her skills in those languages if she has the time.  

oxide of chromium; what’s your favorite book?

eva isn’t bookish. she just can’t sit still long enough. when she was a kid, she did love the magic slipper series, written by one of the prima ballerinas she idolises. 

olive green; are you currently reading anything? how do you like it so far?

her calculus textbook. she wants to set it on fire.  

mars brown; what’s a movie that always puts a smile on your face/makes you laugh? 

she likes cheesy 90s era movies. she’s the man always makes her laugh. 

burnt umber; what’s something you plan to do before the day is over to take care of yourself?

an ice bath and self massage for her legs, if pointe work is particularly intense, treat any new blisters or bleeding on her feet. typical ballet things. 

umber; have you drank enough water today? 

eva is always mindful to drink eight cups of water per day. 

voronezhskaya black; what or who is your go-to outlet for when you need to vent? 

amaya. she listens coolly, and provides helpful commentary. a few weeks ago, eva vented to her about mako and how much of an ‘arrogant ass’ her partner is. after she finished letting off steam, amaya asked her what the exact reasons for disliking him were, which helped eva realise her own stubbornness, haha. 

sepia; name five things that always make you happy.

perfect surf waves, a hug from her parents, adding a new piece of jewellery to her minimal gold collection, warm sunny weather, camping with her siblings.     

indigo; what’s the best/sweetest compliment you have ever received?

she’s received a lot of ‘you’re pretty’ type compliments from guys over the years, but what makes her happiest is compliments about her dancing, particularly from professionals. 

payne’s gray; describe your aesthetic? 

summer beach chick, relaxed shades of sea blue and white froth, minimalist, with a rough edge.   

black; post a selfie because you are so beautiful!

nah i’m too lazy to open the game at the moment. anyway, eva doesn’t really take selfies by herself, since she’s not that active on social media.