#autumn brings peace and spring new beginnings

[blackcrowing]

Important Facts about Samhain from an Irish Celtic Reconstructionist

Pronunciation

SOW-in or SOW-een ~NOT~ Sam-han, Sam-win etc.

Dates

Most reconstructionists celebrate Samhain on Oct 31-Nov 1, however some may choose to celebrate on Gregorian Nov 13-14 as this would match the Julian dates of Oct 31-Nov 1. Some also believe that it was a three day festival spanning Oct 31- Nov 2 on which Nov 2 is specifically devoted to ancestral veneration, but there is no specific evidence of this, only possible extrapolation from more modern practices.

Following the Celtic method of days beginning at sunset, regardless of the specific dates you choose to celebrate on your festivities should begin at sunset and end at sunset.

Importance in the Mythos

Ná Morrighan has a strong connection to this time of year thanks to the story of Cath Dédenach Maige Tuired (The Last Battle of Mag Tuired) in which she is found depicted as the ‘Washing Woman’ (sometimes washing herself in the river and other times washing the bloodied armor of the soldiers that would die that day), on the eve of the battle which is also Samhain. The Dagda approaches her and couples with her (creating the ‘Bed of the Couples’ along the bank of river and granting Dagda her blessing in the battle to come). This encounter seems to over emphasize the liminality of the encounter by taking place during the changing of the year and with the couple each standing with ‘one foot on either bank’ of the river.

She and her sisters (Badb and Macha) then use various forms of magic to rain destruction on their enemies (in the form of fire and blood). After the day is won Morrighan speaks a prophecy that describes what is taken by some to be the end of days and others to be the events which will later lead to the Ulster Cycle.

Beneath the peaceful heavens lies the land. It rests beneath the bowl of the bright sky. The land lies, itself a dish, a cup of honeyed strength, there, for the taking, offering strength to each There it lies, the splendour of the land. The land is like a mead worth the brewing, worth the drinking. It stores for us the gifts of summer even in winter. It protects and armours us, a spear upon a shield Here we can make for ourselves strong places, the fist holding the shield Here we can build safe places, our spear-bristling enclosures. This is where we will turn the earth. This is where we will stay. And here will our children live to the third of three generations Here there will be a forest point of field fences The horn counting of many cows And the encircling of many fields There will be sheltering trees So fodderful of beech mast that the trees themselves will be weary with the weight. In this land will come abundance bringing: Wealth for our children Every boy a warrior, Every watch dog, warrior-fierce The wood of every tree, spear-worthy The fire from every stone a molten spear-stream Every stone a firm foundation Every field full of cows Every cow calf-fertile Our land shall be rich with banks in birdsong Grey deer before Spring And fruitful Autumns The plain shall be thronged from the hills to the shore. Full and fertile. And as time runs its sharp and shadowy journey, this shall be true. This shall be the story of the land and its people We shall have peace beneath the heavens. Forever

(based on the translation by Isolde Carmody)

It is also mentioned in Echtra Cormaic that on this festival every seven years the high king would host a feast, it was at this time new laws could be enacted. (but it seems that individual Tuathas or possibly kings of the individual providence may have done this for their territories at Lughnasadh).

It seems to be a time considered especially susceptible to (or of) great change as it is the time which the Tuatha de Danann win victory over the Formorians and take control of Ireland, the invasion of Ulster takes place at this time in Táin bo Cúailnge, in Aislinge Óengusa Óengus and his bride-to-be are changed from bird to human and eventually he claims kingship of Brú na Bóinne at this time of year.

Celebration Traditions

Samhain is the beginning of the “dark half” of the year and is widely regarded as the Insular Celtic equivalent of the New Year. The “dark half” of the year was a time for story telling, in fact in this half of the year after dark is considered the only acceptable time to tell stories from the mythological and Ulster cycle (the Fenian cycle being assumed to be no older than the 12th century based on linguistic dating). Traditionally anything that had not been harvested or gathered by the time of this festival was to be left, as it now belonged to the Fae (in some areas specifically the Púca).

This was also an important time for warding off ill luck in the coming year. Large bonfires would be built and as the cattle were driven back into the community from the pastures they would be walked between these bonfires as a method of purification (the reverse custom of Bealtaine where the livestock were walked between the fires on their way out to the summer pastures). Assumed ritualistic slaughter of some of the herd would follow (though this perhaps had the more practical purpose of thinning the herd before the winter and creating enough food for the feasting). In some areas the ashes from these fires would be worn, thrown or spread as a further way to ward off evil.

Homes would be ritualistically protected from the Aos Sí (Fae or ‘Spirits’) through methods such as offerings of food (generally leaving some of the feasting outside for them), carving turnips with scary faces to warn them off (we now tend to do this with gourds), and smoke cleansing the home (in Scottish saining) traditionally with juniper, but perhaps rowan or birch might be an acceptable alternative. It is likely these would be part of the components used in Samhain bonfires as well, for the same reason.

Lastly based on later traditions as well as links in the mythology this is a time where divination practices or those with the ‘second sight’ were regarded to be especially potent.

Art Credit @morpheus-ravenna

#samhain #irish #irish mythology #irish polytheism #irish paganism #celtic reconstructionism #celtic paganism #celtic polytheism #na morrigna #the morrígan #the dagda #fire festival #blackcrowing #Irish reconstructionist

[lovemyromance]

I'm gonna need the ACOTAR fandom to be so fcking for real right now. Which of these is a better story?

A) An uncomfortable/awkward indifference between two people that have been declared mates already, turns into love. Join Elain & Lucien as they grow...and heal...together...and end up together to the surprise of absolutely no one. Elain, again, bends to the will of others and makes a choice that makes everyone else happy. She leaves her sisters, and moves into the human lands or day/spring/autumn/anywhere but Night court with Lucien for her happily ever after.

B) A priestess who is afraid around men due to her traumatic past ventures out to start her healing journey by learning self defense in order to never be weak again – only to fall for her training instructor. They fall in love through training, where the instructor is very careful and respectful of her and all the other women he trains. The training instructor is known as a freak in bed, and she is suddenly all healed to go have kinky sex with him. Follow their journey of fighting, and fucking, and bantering, and fucking some more as they fight and banter. There are ribbons and friendship bracelets. And a pegasus shows up.

C) A woman who everyone underestimates and makes decisions for finally gets to make her own choice. Fate has given her a partner she does not want, who makes her uncomfortable. An iron crockpot has stripped her of her mortality and forced her into a life she did not choose for herself.

Yet, this woman, this female, is so lovely and good that she finds the best in things, despite the circumstances. She adapts to her new life, her new world. She makes friends, she tries to bridge the gap between her relationship with her sisters. In the process of acclimating to her new life, she starts to have feelings for someone else.

A quiet male, the first to truly see her for who she is. The first to talk to her like a real person, the first to hand her a powerful weapon, the first to discover her powers and free her from her depressive murky realm. The male seems to want her too, but is careful around her because she already has a mate. Yet, he cannot seem to stay away from her. One night, under the cover of the night, they meet and are about to share a kiss when something pulls him away. He says "This is a mistake" and she is hurt - Was she imagining all the secret touches? The shy glances? The time they spent together?

She doesn't know that he was physically ordered away from her. The High Lord of their court ordered the male to stay away from her, claimed that she is already spoken for. The male immediately argues, says, "You can't order me to do that". But after some more angry threats, he relents. His own brother basically affirmed the fact that he does not deserve a female as lovely as her. He is tortured endlessly of how he could love someone so much, and yet, fate gave her to someone else?

Then their journey officially begins in the next book. Fate once again, brings the two secret lovers together. Circumstances demand Elain train her powers, and who better to do that than the Spymaster himself? He is the only person (other than Amren, perhaps) with the type of skills (Seeing/Hearing/Spying without physically being there) to be able to understand how to build her powers. They train together, are forced to interact and finally they make up. They cannot stay away from each other, but they have been expressly forbidden to be together. So they sneak away to the garden, under the covers of the stars, when not even the shadows are awake to witness the two lovers find peace in one another. Their love, their bond grows stronger - until Azriel can't physically stay away from her and he finally tells her his suspicions - that they also share a bond. Once it snaps into place, Elain, sweet lovely Elain, understands she has been given not one bond, but two bonds. The cauldron loved her so much, it wanted her to have the choice of whom to love. Elain, after understanding this, decides they've hidden their love long enough. She accepts the bond with Azriel, making her choice forever. They live happily ever after, raising their kids alongside her sisters and their mates.

Idk you guys, clearly I have a bias, but I'm going for option C 🤭

#elriel #azriel #elain archeron #pro elain #elain x azriel #acotar #elain #antielucien #antigwynriel

[undiscovered-horizon]

The King and the Swallow

SUMMARY: Unexpected reunion with his childhood friend and the sworn protector of the royal family takes a dramatic turn when Nikolai inquires about her uncharacteristic, cold demeanour. Confessions are shared - the good ones and the bad ones alike.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.7k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

"[...] Swallows are believed to bring good luck and prosperity to the household. They are often associated with protecting the family as well. Similarly, the ROYAL SWALLOWS are sworn protectors of the reigning dynasty. As tradition entails, this faction is kept within one lineage, although the actual name is not included in any official documentation, becoming the object of wild speculations. According to the acquired knowledge about Royal Swallows, the next of kin is titled a Swallow only after answering The Call - an ancient, largely unknown, ritual of swearing-in believed to be conducted during the spring equinox when most grains are sowed as a symbol of new beginnings as well as the servitude intrinsic to the role. If there is more than one child in a generation, the oldest of them is assumed the leader and the regalia in the form of a gold pin with a swallow bird are passed on to them. In some regions of Ravka, touching the pin is believed to bring seven generations of good luck to the household. [...]" - excerpt from Factions and groupings in: About courts and gutters. The complete encyclopedia of the known world by Sankt Nikita

The weather leaves a lot to wish for. Grey clouds are covering the once-blue sky, cold wind tugs at clothing and leaves the skin covered in goosebumps even under a substantial amount of layers. The dense air smells of petrichor, although a thunderstorm is yet to come. Perhaps it’s the oncoming rain or the impending battles that make it difficult to breathe. Early spring is about as charming as muddy, rainy autumn. The sounds of soldiers bussing around the base are partially drowned out by rustling leaves, allowing the more naive to lie to themselves that there is, in fact, no war; it’s the wind blowing on their skin and not the grim reaper breathing down their necks.

Nikolai and Dominik grew tired if not frustrated with the restless turmoil inside the fort. Despite both of them being seasoned soldiers, they’re still learning how to lead the war. Constant chattering, yelling, echoing footsteps and loud clattering of army inventory smoked them out of the squalid building. Outside those grey walls, the world appears deceptively calm. If they stand with their backs facing the fort, maybe they can fool themselves into pretending their situation is a lot better than it really is - just for a minute or two, to not go completely mad.

But their relative peace is cut short when a bright screech pierces the cold wind. The blood-chilling sound belongs to a large bird of prey soaring low above their heads.

Nikolai knits his eyebrows. He begins his question but the implications of its answer make him fall silent halfway through: “Is that…?” 

“Falcon,” Dominik finishes for him.

Surprisingly, the predator flies straight through an open window into one of the rooms in the fort. A question remains: with the falcon on its perch, where is the falconer? Fortunately, the answer arrives rather quickly:

“It’s the Swallow!” one of the soldiers yells.

Sure enough, a menacing silhouette appears on the horizon: a dark, stocky horse galloping through acres of fields with a cloaked rider on its back. Their robes in colours black, gold and ginger dance on the wind, pulled and tugged by the momentum. Surrounded by floating textiles, the rider appears more like a phantom rather than a person.

The approaching hoofbeat carries subliminal whispers of unsaid words, the echo of days long past and people who haunt others despite still being alive. The horse is slowing down its haste when the impatient rider jumps off the mount’s back. One of the soldiers manages to catch the whipping reins and pull the frenzied horse back towards the stables.

Auburn hair glistens in the dispersed sunlight as she takes the hood off her head. A few stray strands float in the wind. She hasn’t changed much - the freckles pepper her face just as he remembered and the scar splitting her lower lip still makes her look more menacing than she really is. The only difference, as far as he can tell, is that she’s a lot more beautiful than the woman he painted in his imagination during lonely nights. Her green eyes are a shade darker than the emerald he wears on his finger but to his heartache, they are equally cold as the gem.

The first person that made young Nikolai Lantsov realize that maybe girls aren’t, after all, ‘eww’.

“Lann!” his lips call out to her before his mind realizes.

But she only bows curtly. “Another time, your grace.”

The woman marches past him and into the fort. Soldiers flock to her, shoving documents into her hands and reporting on the progress of whatever duties she has given them. Watching her back, Nikolai realizes it’s the very first time in his life he’s seeing the infamous, illusive Harbinger - a claymore sword hidden in a scabbard hanging from her lower back. For a moment he wonders whether it really has decapitated as many terrorists and conspirators as people say. But this pondering is unimportant for now as Nikolai is still coming to terms with the fact that the one person he’s been dreaming of seeing again just brushed him off.

“Did she just ‘another time’ me?” he asks Dominik. “The king?”

His friend only gives him a playful grin. “Maybe she’s still upset about all the thistle you used to put in her hair.”

“She forced my hand!” he answers with a whine hiding in his voice. “It was the only way she’d talk to me instead of Cillian. Where is he anyway?”

Dominik clenches his jaw. Nervous, he scratches his neck before answering. “To be honest, I don’t think he’s with us anymore.” 

Nikolai leans in, his voice low as disbelief drips from his words. “Cillian has died?”

“Hard to say what happened but she does wear the pin. Lann showed up two days ago, shortly before you arrived, and just said he’s ‘gone’. Actually, I was going to ask you about that.”

“I haven’t seen either of them since their father was killed. I had no idea she was here.”

“Well, that only complicates things.” Dominik takes off his cap, brushes his fingers through his hair and puts the hat back on. “I know Swallows don’t die in linen bed sheets but still, something horrible must have happened. It’s like something broke inside her. Maybe she’ll talk to you.”

Dominik gives Nikolai an awkward smile before patting his shoulder and leaving the king alone in the courtyard of the fort. The cold wind tugs at his clothes and Nikolai shivers. When did spring get so cold?

Lann is interrupting Dominik and Nikolai’s conversation for the second time today. They’re crowded over maps scattered on the table when she pushes the door open. They creek before the handle hits the wall with a thud and the wooden wing bounces back to close. Her rhythmic, heavy steps resound in the small room, the acoustic turning them into booming hoofbeat.

Aside from the impolite entrance, she announces her arrival only by loudly clicking her heels together. There’s no courtesy towards either of them, just a flood of laconic information:

“Kirigan’s following is growing with each day. His Grisha are fanatics, they’ll do anything he tells them to. From what I’ve gathered, they’re going to hit the First Encampment next but I’m guessing it’s something personal rather than political. Strategically, it’s a useless move. I have also received news from the northern front. They’re holding back Fjerdans but the snow shouldn’t thaw until later next month, leaving them in the cold for approximately another six weeks.”

Her cold, matter-of-fact tone makes Nikolai shiver again. Yes, people tend to become more serious as they grow up and take over important responsibilities but they never turn soulless. It’s as though the person in front of him is but a corpse brought back to life by inexplicably odious magic - rid of humanity, personality and vigour. Still, dismissing the dull ache growing inside his chest, Nikolai does his best to focus on the problem at hand. “Is there anything we can send them?” he asks in the calmest way he can muster.

“I’ve already ordered for proper preparations to be made, your grace.” She gently bows her head while speaking the title. “The shipment will leave tonight.” 

Nikolai’s stomach churns. She never called him that. In fact, he can clearly remember Lann promising him that she will never address him properly. An image flashes before his eyes - June, a field behind a barn, a frown that misplaces freckles, thistle in hair, high voice speaking with a lisp: ‘You’re just Kolya’.

“If there are no further questions, I ought to leave to tend to my duties.” Lann’s voice is low and firm, completely different from the childish sound in Nikolai’s memories. Somehow, he’d rather listen to the girl with the lisp again. 

The woman nods curtly before leaving the room, loudly shutting the door behind herself. Rushed footsteps resound through the hall, steadily disappearing into the ambient noise befitting a military base. Soon, her presence belongs to memories if not ghosts, considering the imposing way in which she continues to haunt Nikolai.

“I told you, Nikolai.” Dominik must have noticed his pained expression. “Something happened to Cillian and it broke her. She’s a completely different person now.”

The king looks down at the maps but then he shakes his head slightly - there’s simply no way he will just return to planning attacks and defences while Lann is but a shell of the woman he used to know; a phantom he knows by name but not the heart. And Cillian… losing one of the Swallows is a huge blow to Ravka’s assets. More than once in the history of this country did the presence of Royal Swallows make the difference between status quo and ruin. If one of them is ‘gone’, whatever that can mean, and the other has forsaken their humanity, they might as well give up already and let Kirigan take all that he’s going to intercept anyway.

Nikolai clenches his fist and sighs. If not for his own sake, he needs to do this for Ravka - at least that’s what he keeps telling himself. Truthfully, he’s more concerned with Lann’s well-being than his curiosity or worry. “Excuse me,” he murmurs half-comprehensively to Dominik before running out of the room in search of the Swallow.

Lann lets out an exasperated sigh as she hears someone knocking on the door to her bedroom. She rubs her face, pondering whether she should just pretend to be elsewhere. Wondering who might just interrupt her short-lived and rare moment of peace, Nikolai’s face flashes before her eyes. A blade of guilt pierces her chest but she doesn’t seem surprised. Truly, the moment of truth has to come at some point and, despite her own fears, the sooner the better.

“Come in,” she calls out, silently praying that it’s not the king of Ravka that comes with a visit.

The thing about prayers is that they’re not immune to various interpretations by the gods that listen. And some of them, inspired by their own grandeur, decide that they know better than the misers walking the mortal vale. Or, maybe, there are gods that simply revel in doing the opposite of what they’re asked.

The door creaks quietly as someone walks in. Lann looks over her shoulder, for a moment distracted from washing her shirt. Her chest tightens upon recognizing his face, even more so when she sees his pained expression as though her mere presence is breaking his heart. If only he knew… She clenches her jaw and returns to feverishly brushing a dark stain from her clothes. 

“Can I be of assistance?” she asks curtly.

Nikolai isn’t quite sure what he expected walking in. Maybe part of him wished that once Lann is sheltered from the awestruck gaze of First Army soldiers, she’ll magically revert to the person he remembered - the relentless girl he knew nearly a decade ago. Alas, she’s nowhere to be found.

He watches her back as she’s aggressively washing a cotton shirt. Nikolai realizes that Dominik was telling the truth - she is, in fact, wearing the symbolic gold pin in her hair. It’s holding up the low bun, a coil of auburn hair that probably looked a lot more neat a few hours ago, in the morning. Not having expected guests, she’s standing over the basin wearing only a bra, revealing countless scars littering her back. Nikolai takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself. Deep lines of red, pink and white scattered across her skin look equally painful and imposing. His mind slips into wondering how much pain she had to endure during those past ten years but his imagination is, despite everything, limited. Nikolai’s gaze slips off her back, partially flustered by the unexpected show of skin and the implications of having as many scars as she does. His eyes are drawn to the long, heavy-looking sword propped up on three wooden y-shaped sticks. Harbinger, one of the finest pieces of armoury that has left the royal forge. The sharpened and waxed iron glistens in the dim light of the small fire burning inside the crude hearth. The angle at which the light dances off the edge of the blade allows Nikolai to easily read the inscription along the fuller: Virtue guide your hand. Judging by the deep scars and the fact she’s still alive, Lann must keep true to those words.

That thought brings his attention back to her and her only. The strange cold tension that presses down on his chest is something he’d never associate with her. Nikolai begins to wonder whether he’s the one removed from reality - perhaps his longing has painted her holy and not just human.

“Can we talk, Lann?” he breaks the silence. “Not Swallow to the king, just us.”

The sound of the brush hitting the ceramic basin startles him. She grips the sides of the bowl and hangs her head. Nikolai is about to apologize for interrupting and leave, clearly having annoyed her with his unforeseen presence, when he hears the voice he’s been missing for so long:

“I killed him, Kolya.”

The whisper is barely audible, making Nikolai doubt his own senses for a moment. Maybe he wants to speak with her so desperately, his mind is conjuring the conversation so he doesn’t abandon his sanity just yet.

“I killed…” she speaks again but chokes on a sob. “I killed Cillian. I had to, he-” 

Lann turns around to look at him and Nikolai feels as though he’s seeing for the first time - really seeing her, not the cold exterior she greeted him with earlier. Her eyes are bloodshot and surrounded by a greyish-purple halo as though she hasn’t slept in weeks. She takes in a ragged breath but it’s not enough to calm her down - her lips quiver and tears stream down her face. There’s no telling how long she’s been holding this in.

“He was conspiring against the crown.”

Another memory causes turmoil inside Nikolai’s mind: August, the morning after a thunderstorm, skinny boy with ginger curls, a mischievous smile, a mean-looking bullfrog: ‘I bet my dessert you won’t touch it.’

Nikolai furrows his eyebrows. Either unable or unwilling to accept this course of events, he shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

“He was aiding General Kirigan. The idea to put the poison on Genya’s skin? The location of the Spinning Wheel?” She falls silent but leaves her mouth slightly agape as though she’s fighting herself to say something more. “Our father’s death?” she adds barely audibly.

“By the Saints…” he mutters under his breath. “How can you be sure?”

“Someone mistook Rudy,” the bird sitting on a perch in the corner of the room screeches at the mention of his name, “for Cillian’s falcon and I got his mail. I didn’t check the name on the envelope and just opened it, read through it and…” Lann hangs her voice for a moment. Nikolai doesn’t rush her. “I broke into his office when he wasn’t around, read through whatever documents he didn’t get to burn yet. It was all there: Kirigan’s empty promises, locations, dates, names, formulas. A whole coup d’etat across the hall from me and I never suspected a thing.”

Nikolai looks at her with obvious confusion. “It’s not your fault, Lann-”

“It is!” she yells. Tears are streaming down her face, performing a slight danse macabre on her shaking chin. Strangely enough, her grimace shows disgust rather than sadness. “I gave Cillian the poison that killed the king. I never once questioned why he would need Belladonna or aqua regia, only asked ‘How much?’. And the Spinning Wheel? He told me to make an inventory of the defenses and I only asked him when he’d like to have it done. All of this,” she frantically gestures around, “is because of me.”

“He was your brother,” Nikolai drones the word. Maybe he and Vasily didn’t always see eye to eye but he’d never even considered the possibility of his half-brother being a schemer. “Of course, you didn’t suspect him of treason. Saints, even I find it hard to believe.”

Lann steps towards him. An accusatory finger pointing towards herself. “But I should have. This is the only duty I have in this life. I bent the knee before the king and promised to keep him and his family safe. I failed at that. The only thing I was supposed to do, I-”

“Hey, stop this,” Nikolai interrupts her in a firm but gentle tone. His hands shot up to cradle her face out of some deeply ingrained instinct because he realizes his actions only when he feels her skin underneath his fingers. Berating himself for not asking her first, Nikolai is about to pull away but discards that silly idea when Lann leans into his palms. “Cillian’s wrongdoings have nothing to do with you. He may have betrayed the king but you remained loyal. You have kept your given word, no matter how difficult it was. I don’t know if I would have been equally brave.”

Her body shakes as she’s trying to calm down her breathing. It works maybe for a few seconds before another flood of salty tears rushes down her red, swollen cheeks. Lann would look tragically beautiful like one of the paintings hanging in the halls of Little Palace, if Nikolai could see past the haunting misery inside her eyes. 

“If I did the right thing, why does it hurt so much?”

Nikolai feels his own throat clenching. This overwhelming powerlessness sets his fingertips ablaze, his own body begging him to do something, anything, to ease the devouring frustration burning his lungs and ribs.

“Because you still love him, despite everything.” A sad, humourless smile appears on his face. “You’ve always been a little too good.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment and he doesn’t try coaxing anything out of her. Judging by her vacant stare, Lann wouldn’t notice a fly if it sat on the tip of her nose. Nikolai feels his stomach churning when his thoughts begin suggesting to him that she really does appear like a corpse brought back to life - soulless, lacking the vigour that all things animated require to remain alive.

Suddenly, Lann wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in his chest. “What am I going to do without him, Kolya?” she cries into his shirt. Nikolai has a tight grip around her shoulders, clearly unwilling to let her go anytime soon. In all of his selfishness, he refuses to admit that this close embrace is more to curb his longing heart rather than bring her comfort. “This loneliness, it’s… If I have to bear it for a day more, I think I will die. It’s like there’s this hole, an abyss shaped like Cillian inside my chest and no one else will ever fit in there.”

“I know I can’t replace Cillian,” he begins slowly, thoughtfully, as he brushes his fingers through her hair, “I don’t even want to, but I’ll gladly be the resin that keeps you whole. If you let me, that is.”

To Nikolai’s dismay, Lann leans away from him but only enough to look at his face. His arm is still secured around her waist, keeping her body close to his. Maybe one day he’ll tell her how often he has dreamed of this very moment, imagining how her frame would fit him and how lovely her hands would feel against him.

“My grief is my problem,” she states firmly, although her trembling voice rids her of all seriousness. “You’ve got more important things to do. You’re king, you have a country to rule and a war to wage.”

Nikolai offers her a gentle smile, half-hoping to ease the tension that unchangeably makes him feel like the walls are closing in on them. “And what kind of miserable king am I going to be without my trusty Swallow?”

Lann knits her eyebrows in a sense of disbelief - did he not listen to her confession? Her repeated admission is explicit: “I killed my own brother after aiding him in a coup. I should be in the gallows.”

“Then it’s a good thing that I’m the king.” Patiently, Nikolai wipes tears off her face with his thumbs. “I need you, Lann. What words do I have to say to convince you that I truly want you by my side?”

Lann shakes her head. A breathy sigh of defeat leaves her mouth. She’ll forever remain oblivious to the heartache this little gesture of yielding is causing Nikolai. With closed eyes, she pleads: “Just tell me you forgive me.”

“I hold no grudge against you.”

“Please, Kolya.”

He studies her tired face for a moment. For the first time, Nikolai realizes that kinghood is akin to godhood - the judgment of people whose only sin is trying their best. “I forgive you. For everything that you’ve done and didn’t manage to do, I forgive you. I hope you can forgive me too.”

Before Lann can ask about his enigmatic words, Nikolai is pouring his desperation and longing into a long overdue kiss. Without hesitation, she returns the affection but this bliss doesn’t last long as guilt begins to creep up her spine again. Fighting her own desire, Lann turns her face away from Nikolai who opts for pecking her temple and cheeks, hardly capable of taming his yearning.

“This can’t be.” Lann’s whisper makes him halt his frenzied affection. She puts her hand against his chest but doesn’t push him away. “I’m a fratricide.”

“And I’m a bastard,” he answers casually as if those shameful titles carry no importance inside their microcosm. “We fit each other well, if I may say so.” Tenderly, Nikolai wraps his fingers around her wrist, keeping her hand against his chest. The longer his eyes study Lann’s face, the more his expression softens, soon becoming a painting of uninhibited adoration.

“Loving me is a disgrace to you.”

“Then I hope to never know virtue.”

She closes the distance between them, forcefully kissing him but Nikolai doesn’t seem to mind bumping noses or clashing teeth - all of that is laughable and unimportant compared to the warm softness of her lips against his. It’s everything he’s been imagining and so much more at the same time. Lann tastes like fresh berries and sour lemonade on a summer afternoon, making Nikolai wish he could relish this flavour for the rest of his life.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai imagines #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone

[kazyurmao]

What it Means to Love p.i

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  What it Means to Love: p.i

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Childhood friend Kazuha x Reader

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⚘ Synopsis: You are in love with your childhood best friend

⚘ Warnings: Unrequited, angst, no comfort (not really angsty angsty though)

⚘ 1300

⚘ Beautiful Stranger

It was during third grade when you took notice of a particular platinum-blond-haired boy. He was peacefully sitting on a bench that was close to a communal garden. He was reading a book—you remember this book, ‘In the Moonlight’ by Yosa Buson—you remember how he flipped the pages, he was so delicate. The boy sighed every single time he read three pages—he was breathing calmly—he let the wind guide his lungs. 

He was so peaceful—unbothered by the distant chattering of children chasing each other. You remember how the boy was so focused on his book—that he had failed to notice how you were now sitting next to him.

You sat silently (of course.)And you stared at him, engrossed in the small world he had kept flipping the pages. Haiku after haiku, you had noted, how he had already begun to recite poems, that were pasted onto pages. He whispered them—yet you could hear. It sounded so romantic—so calm that you couldn’t help but close your eyes and hum.

And that's when he took notice of your presence—and that’s when you took notice of the red streak of hair on the right side of his head. He stared at you—looking deep, almost as if he was analyzing you, and you couldn’t help but show a toothy smile. Your smile, oh your smile, a missing tooth—yet it was a smile of innocence, “Hi!” you couldn’t help but exclaim in an exciting tone. A faint flushed-out red appeared on your skin—your cheeks and nose—and you extended your left hand. The cute eyes of the boy, his red eyes, resembled so much like the maple leaves that fall in autumn. 

The beautiful boy didn’t say much—he gave a tiny nod to acknowledge your presence, but that didn’t mind you! As long as he knew you existed—that was enough for you.

It was just like that.

You invited yourself to be with him—you brought your books to read, and while they were not as complicated as the one he carried—it was enough. You have noticed a few things about him. He was quiet and calm. He preferred to be by himself. However, he wasn’t entirely introverted—he did talk a few times, especially when you needed help pronouncing a few words. One word to describe your new friend was—poetic. 

“Kazuha, my name is Kazuha.”

⚘  Silent Love

It was in seventh grade—when you noticed that your face became more flushed when you saw your heartbeat pounded—bounded—poured—its love to him. You observed—you had attached a red string to his heart with yours. The boy—Kazuha—was so lovely and so sweet. He smelled like maple. You are not sure if he smelled like maple because you kept bringing Momiji Manjū or if he naturally had the scent of maple leaves. He is so caring—a gentle boy who never lets his anger get the best of him.

It was the beginning of spring when the ice melted; the trees began to regain their leaves. The wind blew towards the east, and you both were lying amongst the plains that followed the wind. You had suggested—to Kazuha—to take you out for a small picnic. It was a simple picnic—finger sandwiches with a teacup of maple tea. Sweet treats were scattered among the small blanket, the basket he had carried, set aside. He was reciting poems—and you—oh you, gracefully heard his sweet voice consume your heart.

You lay on his right—looking at his pale cheeks, your breath hitched, “Kazuha—.” His name left your lips—it was a sudden urge to spill his lovely name, “Kazu….” he had let out a small hum—not daring to look at you—giving him one of your sweet smiles. You were content—everything was perfect you wish this is how it will always remain—him by your side. Forever and ever, you wish for him to stay by your side. 

“I know what flower to grow next, cyclamen—I’ll grow cyclamens”

He turned around—now facing you—and smiled gently, “That sounds lovely.” The wind blew your hair, as well as his, it was a period of quietness. 

Forever with you—with him. 

⚘ Happiness is a Butterfly 

You thought you had misheard—you did hope. It was winter when you heard eternity shatter. 

“Hm? Them? Oh….” it was a hesitant, his words—held—uncertainty. He was with his group of friends. You both were hanging out less, but you had hope—hoped—it was because he was busy or something. Yet here he was. He was talking to his friends.

He wasn't talking about any girl—he was talking about

You.

“I don’t like hanging out with them, I have been avoiding them for quite a bit. I just think they are too clingy. They aren’t quite—like at all—I just wish they could leave. Do I sound rude? It’s just that….” and again.

Again.

He hesitated—he knew—you knew—that you were listening in to his conversation, “Is it sad that I don’t even consider them as a friend? They call me their best friend, but I can’t even promise I can reciprocate that feeling.” 

It was his sweet words that punctured your heart. It was his sweet words that your tears burned your eyes. It was the sweetest rejection. You stared down, not even wanting to confront him, you wanted to keep listening. You had become addicted to his sweet words of rejection—yet it wasn’t even a rejection of love but as a friend.

You took a step back, wiping your tears, you began to walk away—you knew he wanted that. 

⚘ The boy who swallowed a star

It was in tenth grade.

It was a rekindle of what you had missed. It was as if the wind had whispered sweet nothings into your ear. You stood in front of the same garden, the first place you ever saw him, he stood there with an apologetic smile. His smile was so sweet—stretching his arm to give you….a small cyclamen. 

His soft eyes—his cute red eyes with yellow glitter, his platinum blonde hair, his red streak, his soft hands—everything was so sweet of him. You could smell his scent of sweet maple. It was so comforting, that he recited another of his sweet haikus—letting the wind blow his sweet words to your ears. It was as if the string that was in your heart reappeared to connect you once again to him. “I’m sorry.” he simply said those words—the words you had yearned for centuries. He cupped your cheeks, softly rubbing his thumb against your left cheek. It was a plain, yet, sweet apology.

⚘ .

He reappeared in a matter of seconds. Showering you with sweet gifts and poems every missed friendship anniversaries (the ones that were lost) were remembered. What was once a boy who did not initiate contact, had become clingy. In a desperate attempt to regain the ‘best friend’ title. He was so sweet and romantic with his gestures. Each poem was dedicated to his muse—you. Cupping your cheeks when you are sad, kissing your forehead when you are having a bad day, buying you sweets to brighten up your day. He will be the one to listen to you rant, and he wouldn’t get angry at you. 

  ⚘ .

“What’s this Kazu?” a small gift sat on your lap. He had entered the room and placed the small gift on your lap—of course, it was another gift but what was the occasion? He immediately kissed your cheek, making you flustered. Your heartbeat accelerated, it was excited, he whispered into your ear, “A little someone to always stick by your side when I’m not with you.” He was so cheesy, so sappy, so poetic, you smiled and opened the box. 

It was a brownish—red—teddy bear. Ironically the bear smelled like maple, you could only laugh, “It smells like you!” 

It was always him.

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Miffyur’s note:

Hello! (I did change my name, I just didn’t like ‘Mao’, anyways), this is part one of ‘What it means to love’. Hope everyone likes it! 

Also, I did notice my Diluc fic has some….misspellings. To be fair it was rushed, soooo I might re-write it. (also I know it’s all over the place, so I might change the formatting again <3

Thank you for reading, 

Miffyur

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#genshin x you #genshin impact #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x gender neutral reader #kazuha x gn reader #kazuha x reader angst #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Curtis And Honey Autumn This Or That 🍂

Week Three: Journaling or Hiking

Summary- Short Drabble. Curtis x Plus!Sized Reader. Curtis keeps a journal of his life, the pages now a nice honey-gold color now.

This is an 18+ Only Blog.

A/N- Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and shared! I appreciate how much you all embrace this couple and love them. Please make sure you vote on Fridays for next week's this or that activity. Happy Reading!

Curtis and Honey This or That Masterlist

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

The little leather bound book was usually held closed with a strip of rawhide wrapped around it, the creases in the binding threatening to break apart. But today it sat opened in the last bit of autumn grass, now loosing its luscious emerald color and turning gold in the last bit of the days sunlight. Scattered pages were flipping back and forth with the wind picking up, it crossed small sketches of wild birds in flight, species of wildflowers with color described along the edge of the petals, short snippets of words stringing together into some kind of unheard lyric, and traces of honey colored gold edging on some of those pages. 

Those honey colored golds were new words and sketches, something never added to this little book of its owners' adventures. Long before the entries were full of lost feelings, like a storm brewing on the pages that boomed with confusion in life. A lost young boy trying to figure out the circumstances of his existence. 

Why why why. I miss them, I never knew them. 

They weren’t always dark, not till he turned into a young man, those unanswered questions his loved ones couldn’t answer made him angry and upset. Black curled the pages, driving away his happiness till it took over too many pages and the written dates stopped for just a short time. 

Then those dark entries turned lighter, muted shades of color cutting through the darkness that brewed in his words. They were spring green with pride at his accomplishments, a baby girl pink the first time he held his niece who came fiercely into this world, a swirl of blue sadness as he once more had to make lasting memories for himself while having to watch age claim his grandparents. 

Now recent pages are rich gold fading the darkness to the narrow parts of his pages, discussions about how your laugh would make his heart race and crave for more, that the softest brush of fingertips can make him feel alive and able to tackle anything, how everything slowed down in his life, turned better, turned to a place he loved his life. 

Slow dances in the kitchen in between flipping a pancake, teasing and playing up the stairs to land in the bedroom, even heated words simmering between the two until the built walls get shattered and you two learn how to be together that much more.

Yeah that little leather bound book of Curtis’s had been filled with some moments in his life- it told the weeping story of his losses, the trials of having to grow up and find a place in this world, and now its the chapter of how he is finding peace and how to want someone just for himself. 

Curtis hopes for the next chapter of his journal will be what some might consider a happy ending, or in better words a happy beginning. For now he is satisfied with what he was writing in these pages. 

His pen dappled ink along those pages lazily today while watching you nearby in the old gardens you had spent the summer bringing to life. The golden hues of afternoon filtering around you as you said your silent goodbyes to the last of your bees while they prepared for their long winter. 

Curtis picked up his book, flipping to a new page as he sketched slowly, glancing up at you under a heavy brow. His pen took some hesitating strokes, but confidence grew as his image took life.

Later he would do it properly, but for now, he gave your form a sway across the page, small notes of the colors marked in place so he could maybe explore with paints… he always wanted to try paints. 

Maybe it was time to try. 

#curtis and honey #curtis and honey autumn this or that #life is short so make it sweet #curtis x honey #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett and reader #curtis everett x plus!sized reader #curtis everett and plus!sized reader #curtis everett au #chris evans characters #amber writes #sweater writes

[wonijinjin]

seventeen members as still scenes

author’s note: i always think of a specific type of weather and time of the day when thinking about people, so here is a svt version of these still scenes^^

word count: 0.8k | genre: fluff | warnings: none

cheol is like that warm midnight in summer when you can feel the heat left from daytime but it isn’t suffocating, rather it is the comfort of that warmth in the night which makes it perfect, the midnight sky being decorated with a few stars here and there, little sparks of hope, the streetlights leading the way to a place called home.

hannie is like a winter morning when the previous night’s snow is so pure, still untouched even though the weather is quite warm despite it being a morning, everything is quiet and glowing in white, the little flowers that survived the cold along the streets slowly appearing after the snow on them starts to melt away with the sun waking from its slumber.

shua is like a spring morning after a whole night of constant raining from angry dark clouds, the sun appearing from its hiding spot behind them, bringing a faint rainbow to the sky as the last drops of water are being dried off, as if they were tears masked behind the night, bringing a new warm beginning to another day.

jun is like the blue hour after the sunset in winter, all the stars and the bright moon already on the sky, lovers standing in each other’s arms, above them a magical scene of constellations just like how it was told in fairytales, millions of hopeful wishes being made under the moon’s friendly hue, healing the broken hearts.

hoshi is like the late night in autumn when a big thunderstorm is the main event, lighting striking the almost black sky every minute, making it constantly bright even though it is way past sunset, instead of scaring people making them focused on nothing else but the flashing lights, as if the sky was the empty canvas to paint something memorable and beautiful on.

wonwoo is like the late afternoon in autumn when it is raining heavily without a thunderstorm, sky full of grey clouds, it can be heard from outside, being inside with your loved ones, a comfortable silence surrounding the place as everyone does their own thing quietly, the raindrops’ sound giving comfort and peace to the always racing mind.

woozi is like a chilly and early spring morning at sunrise when most people are still asleep, the sun only just rising above the horizon as the light shines through the leaves of trees and windows of houses, brightness everywhere, like new life was created yet again, everything slowly rising from slumber.

hao is like an autumn afternoon when the aftermath of the rain in the morning is still visible, puddles all over the ground, but the sky is sunny, the clouds having a bright shade, the nature absorbing the water, the humidity still evident in the air, making it heavy and full, like a mix of unspoken and mysterious or almost mischievous words are hiding in the air.

mingyu is like the summer night sunset, most of the colors of the rainbow all being present at once somehow, the feeling of a hug from the last rays of sunshine, warm breeze stroking the cheek of friends, losing track of time while immersing in the sun’s golden hour glow, feeling pure joy and gratitude, stopping for a minute to appreciate life itself.

dk is like the middle of a summer day when the sun is at its highest, the daytime being very long, a few trees providing shadow to escape the brigthness and the heat which is only bearable in water, the pools being warmed up by the sunshine, laughter filling the hot air, joy filling people’s hearts.

seungkwan is like the afternoon of a summer day, but it is windy outside like it is almost more of a spring weather, the breeze filling the atmosphere, letting it cool down despite the sun shining, no clouds disturbing the perfect blue sky, drinking a fresh lemonade with the perfect amount of sourness from the lemon, and that little extra sweetness of the sugar.

vernon is like the sunset at the end of winter, chill and peaceful, sun setting later and later, darkness slowly taking over the crispy cool sunshine, the light and warmth never disappearing from sight, instead seeping its way deeper inside in the form of freshly lit vanilla candles and cozy blankets, people resting after adventures and work, admiring the winter wonderland.

dino is like the daytime in spring, wind’s breeze and just the right amount of sunshine to have the perfect temperature, the flowers blooming in colorful patches under the sky, very cautiously balanced time, warm and cool in perfect harmony, fragile like emotions, yet so strong and inspiring, fresh like youth.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt imagines #scoups #jeonghan #joshua #seventeen dino #minghao #the8 #mingyu #seventeen dk #hoshi #seventeen soonyoung #seventeen jun #svt junhui #vernon #seventeen woozi #jihoon #wonwoo #wonijinjin #fluffy #seventeen soft hours

[strange-nights-rp]

General Holidays

Gatherings - Like traditional gatherings, are held on Mother Island every full moon. Clans gather to share news and mingle. A time of peace and cooperation.

Grand Feast - Held on the second new moon of new-leaf. A celebration of the return of prey, held on Mother Island. All clans bring as much prey as they can carry and are encouraged to share between each other.

Spring Equinox - Held around the beginning of new-leaf, typically when the days and nights are the same. Much like Winter Solstice, prey is shared and trinkets are given, but in a romantic way.

Summer Solstice - Held on the longest day of green-leaf. A time to celebrate prosperous times, jobs are usually ceased and cats are encouraged to stay in camp and tell stories.

Autumn Equinox - Held around the beginning of leaf-fall, typcially when the day and night are the same. Spirits of The Ancestors are able to make themselves visible on this night and share tongues with their living friends and family.

Winter Solstice - Held on the longest night of bare-leaf. Cats in their own clan often share prey and give each other small trinkets.

#snwrp #strange nights #warrior cats rp #wc rp #new wcrp #warrior cats #warrior cats roleplay #wcrp #warriors #warriors roleplay

[hyunsoolgc]

◎ BOOK 001

CHUSEOK 2023 ( 093023 ) Blood is thicker than water ㅡ but only sometimes.

The drive to the Lee family's not so humble abode is an intimidating one for those unaccustomed to the sort of lifestyle they live. A road leads to a region just outside of Seoul on the edge of Seongnam where the trees grow dense and the hills begin to crest. The location is at the behest of his father ㅡ more accustom to his childhood upbringing in the countryside, despite his own family's accumulation of old wealth. And it masks his mother's request for her own spin on extravagance.

The homeㅡ no, mansion can be seen if one looks up onto the hillside, earning it a mysterious ( and slightly ominous ) reputation from passerby's. What took five years of development and building became his mother's dream home. Not quite modern, leaning with her own touches on a luxury hanok with all the décor and meticulous landscaping fit for a queen's villa.

Although surrounded by lush greens and the fiery glow of the leaves turning for autumn, the warm atmosphere lends for something more uncomfortable on the inside. One step through the door, and the façade of perfection showed quite obvious cracks.

With the wide proximity between the home and roads or their neighbors half a mile away, few can hear the arguments nor the tantrums carried by the matriarch's voice. She flew into the occasion fit of rage when things did not go to her accordance.

The garden must be trimmed to perfection, elaborate pieces of artwork and sculptures were not to be touched, and the pond with her precious goldfish and turtles was entirely off limits.( Little did an 11 year old Hyunsoo know that exploring its depths to retrieve a lotus for her would result in such a severe punishment. His mother did not sully her own hand, noㅡ she much rather command the groundskeeper to do so. The slap to his tender cheek, unaccustomed to the concept of violence, still stings when his eyes lay upon it. )

Even now, during a time meant for family peace and bonding, the tension within the dining room is palpable. Hyunsoo tastes it on his tongue when he breathes in.

Before him sits his older brother, Hyunbin, eyes bright as usual, coupled with a fleeting smile that he always seems to have. He rambles with a joyful tone about his new wife, of whom he had the pleasure of marrying in the spring. His mother expresses her pleasure with the arrangement, what with it being by her own hand. She makes sure to emphasize her victory with a glance to her husband who had never been quite so certain. Hyunsoo, however, is certain that despite Hyunbin's choice, she would have been accepting of the outcome. She sits adjacent to his brother, preening herself constantly, then brushing her fingers affectionately through his hair or dabbing a spare bit of food from his face. Even when he brushes her hand away and insists, "I am no longer a child", she smiles still, endeared unconditionally.

To Hyunbin's right is their younger sister, Miyoung. Her lips pressed to the side, she pushes around the japchae on her plate with a metal chopstick clutched in each dainty hand. Every so often, she would glance up at Hyunsoo and offer him a playful dart of her tongue, or nudge his foot underneath the table when she catches him losing attention. Her signature style of two 'space buns' is abandoned today for a more traditional maiden's braid cascading down her back. She scrolls through her phone to pass to her mother who merely sighs in response. The teen's face brightens when she motions to the miu miu purse she would like for her high school graduation next year ㅡ her obsession with the brand fitting enough for her nickname of a similar phonetic sound.

Beside Hyunsoo, his father eats his dinner in relative silence, only occasionally nudging his son to bring him another plate of food from across the table. His appetite mirrors Hyunsoo's; especially fascinated with the taste of the songpyeon and dasik that are crafted into pretty shapes that he has no interest in. He idly drums his fingers on the table, playing a song on a piano no one else can see. His eyes can be seen traveling toward his wife every so often, and he huffs out a quiet snort when he realizes the extravagance of her hanbok and hair styling in comparison to the rest of them. When the meal finishes, he sits with his book in the corner of the room. His father is everything Hyunsoo would have become had he chosen to follow the path his mother laid out for him.

As for his mother… Well, she turns her focus on her middle child when the opportunity strikes, painted red lips turning into a thin smirk.

"Hyunsoo," she begins, tone condescending as ever. "you have not spoken a word. Is the rice flour too sticky?"

With her gaze finally on him, his father straightens his posture, eyes fixed back. "Well, I think it's lovely that each of us have our own goals. What an interesting and multi-talented family we've ended up with." Hyunsoo knows that tone, and a smile begins to push at the corners of his mouth but it is quick to fade when his mother retorts back.

He shakes his head in response. "N-No, itㅡ W-well, I justㅡ"

"N-no? W-Well, you just… what? You insist on not participating in our family time?" The imitation of his stammer earns a skeptical glance from Hyunbin toward her but her eyes ( eyes that grow wider with anticipation ) stick to Hyunsoo. "Is something else on your mind? I'm certain that must be it. You are doing a lot of things these days… meeting new people, trying new things. It must be so overwhelming."

"Yes, it is. My schedule… it is taking time to get used to. It can be difficult toㅡ "

A chuckle from her cuts him off ㅡ as it usually does. "Oh, do not complain. You are doing what you want. Had you remained focusing on piano, you would have so much more free time and certainty… I would have supported you so much. But I suppose we all choose our own path, so one must deal with the consequences of it. Isn't that right, honey?"

"Lovely? The child barely spends time with us anymore, Minjae. A growing boy needs his motherㅡ needs his family. If that company of yours had not insisted you move into those dorms…" She clicks her tongue in clear frustration. "Did it really make you happy? Living with unruly, strange boys you never met before in a small room? You have no friends in them. All you do now is spend time at your apartment because of it. Why don't you move in with us now that you can? It would be good for me. I can reconnect with my son."

Her hands fold in front of her. "You have been spending so much time with that little girlfriend of yours, too. Do you like her more than me now? Minseo is so pleasant. I do not blame you, but the least you could doㅡ"

( And if she knew of their deceitful relationship? )

"Come now, darling," her husband waves his hand dismissively, inflection intentionally light ( facetious in a way she still cannot detect ). "He is an adult now. There are many things he is learning on his own now. We've raised another amazing son."

Hyunsoo furrowed his brows, pensive eyes examining the swirls on the empty porcelain plate before him. His throat tightens and he swallows with a visible grimace. Their voices carry in a conversation that fails to register, what with his ears beginning to ring. It only takes another utterance from his mother of 'my child' for him to raise in his seat.

She notices quickly, turning his head toward him again. "What are you doing? Sit down. It is rude toㅡ"

"I do not want to."

"What? Stop speaking nonsense. Sit and finish your meal. The chefs are preparing your favoriteㅡ"

"I said... I do not want to. Mother." Hyunsoo's firm voice is clear of any tremors. He is certain in his decision to assert himself, even if it means earning an incredulous look.

"You do not speak to your older brother that way. Every word out of your mouth tonight has been…ㅡ You have always been so insolent! Have some respect." Their mother stands, fists tightly clenched inside her long silk sleeves. Her voice escalates into a shrill "Sit. Now."

Hyunbin interjects, preparing to stand as well. "Hyunsoo, come on. Dinner isn't finished yet. We'll talk about something else."

"No!" Hyunsoo retorts with a shake of his head. His eyes fall to his hands: empty, cold. "You can sit here if you like and listen to the typical and be the better son all you want. I am sure like it so much, don't you? They've never argued over you."

"I said no," he does not mince his words, allowing them to fall out without filtration. "I do everything wrong anyway. Nothing will ever be good enough for you! And so, I will not… I will not subject myself to this torment anymore. I am not a puppet nor a toy! I am a person just like Hyunbin. Your son…"

She stomps around the table to face him. With her short stature, she only comes level to his chest, but the fury she possesses puts him a step back. "Then say it. Say what you mean." He turns his head away to avoid her rage laden gaze. "Look at me when I am talking to you."

He falls silent, eyes glazing over with a feeling he has grown complacent with being encompassed by.

Hyunsoo stands still until an arm wraps around his torso to urge him away. He briefly snaps out of his daze to glance at his sister who now sits alone at the table. She sinks back into her seat, burying her head in her hands.

"Nothing to say now? I know what you are thinking… That you never loved me. You hate your own mother! You would rather see me dead than happy! And then when I die, you will realize what you did to me!"

Her hand raises. The frail bones her fingers are made of crack and shake as they straighten. Around her wrist snakes the large, calloused hand of his father's, calmly urging it back to her side. She struggles against his grip, her movements more suited to an upset toddler than a grown woman.

"Everything! I give you everything! A beautiful place to live, nice clothing, your life. And this is how you treat me?!"

The sound of his mother's voice carries from the dining room into the halls, even as he hurries toward his bedroom in the other wing of the house. He comes to the quick realization that his guide is his older brother. He shrugs out of his grip, moving toward the suitcase placed in the middle of his bed.

"What are you doing?" Hyunbin stands in the doorway, arms folded. His eyes dart around the bedroom that, rather than being preserved when Hyunsoo left like his own, had been turned into yet another guest room.

"I need to get out of here… and never come back."

Hyunbin sighs, "You know that's not going to fix anything. Running from things."

"And staying would? What would I do…? Apologize? I've run the word 'sorry' dry when it comes to her. It only makes her think that it's acceptable."

"Then… I'm sorry, Hyunsoo. I didn't thinkㅡ"

"Didn't think what? That it would escalate to this point? You're blind if you didn't anticipate this years ago… This house is full of complacent statues that do her bidding because they're too scared of her reaction. Not me. I do not care what she has to say anymore…"

"I know more than you think. I know how she is…"

"Then why are you so content to let her get away with it? What about… What about how I feel?" Hyunsoo's voice finally breaks. He is unable to stop the tears from brimming his eyes, and he turns away from his brother's attempt for an embrace.

"You're a real fool sometimes… You're the one who can't see things when they're right in front of you," Hyunbin's brows meet with a wrinkle between them. He can only huff out a laugh of disbelief. "I won't force you to stay. Just know there's people in this house who do care about you."

Hyunsoo stops rifling through his clothing to glance back at him. Finally, he willingly falls into his brother's arms, voice muffling against his chest.

"It doesn't feel like it."

#𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙘𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙙𝙚 ( solo. ) #content warning that hyunsoo's mother is a terrible horrible person #this one hurt to write

[spilledbutter]

reading up on some slavic folklore and learned about yarilo

yarilo is apparently a god of vegetation, fertility, and springtime

the legend goes that yarilo was the lost tenth son of the slavic god of thunder, perun

yarilo was stolen away on his birthday, which fell upon the celebration of the new year

he was stolen away to the world of the dead where he was raised by the slavic god of the underworld, veles, perun's mortal enemy

in slavic tradition, the underworld was a place of eternal spring, with bountiful crops and endless greenery, teeming with wildlife, and located across the sea.

yarilo grew up tending cattle and minding the vegetation. he eventually returns to the mortal realm from the underworld, and with his return, brings spring and fertility. he's even god a little rhyme:

"where yarilo walks, there your field gives birth..."

he falls in love with marzanna, a goddess of death and rebirth, and they undergo a series of courting rituals. their wedding marked the summer solstice and was a blessing to the world, bringing peace between the underworld and the mortal plane.

the twist is that, as yarilo is a god of vegetation, his life cycle wanes every year after the harvest when the crops die. (the myth explains this as him dying due to being unfaithful to marzanna and being killed for it).

without him, marzanna becomes bitter, leading to a frosty winter. the gend goes

and every year, the cycle begins anew.

spring, summer, autumn, winter. what a beautiful concept.

other fun tidbits:

accounts emphasize the presence of a horse, that yarilo walks a lot, and has sore feet

he is identified as a mischievous god, possibly associated with shapeshifting

thinking a lot about jaskier as yarilo...

#asi rambles #thanks wikipedia you're a real pal #jaskier #jaskier the bard #julian alfred pankratz #dandelion #the sandpiper #witcher #the witcher #wiedzmin #twn #the witcher netflix #slavic folklore #i am not slavic so please feel free to correct me if i'm wrong on any of this

[callmesinpai]

Bookbinding Updates:

@erisenyo

I have it decided, but I'm still making some tweaks.

Wisteria for These Things Written

Wisteria Symbolism

Despite its potentially aggressive nature, the wisteria flower symbolizes something quite different in cultures that have incorporated it into their rituals or philosophies.

Wisteria in Buddhism

Jodo Shinshu Buddhism, also called “Shin Buddhism” in the West, uses a double wisteria in its official crest to form a circle ‌representing humility and an open and welcoming mind and heart.‌ The humility is inherent in the way the wisteria flowers appear to hang upside down, as if their heads were hanging down. The wisteria blossoms symbolize new beginnings and the fleeting nature of all things.

Perhaps more in keeping with its growing behavior is that ‌it also symbolizes strength and hardiness,��� as it blooms earlier than many other spring flowers, sometimes even when snow is still present.

Japanese Kabuki Drama

A famous Japanese kabuki dance ‌Fuji Musume‌, or the “Wisteria Maiden,” illustrates the story of a young maiden who embodies the spirit of the wisteria plant: romantic and shy.

Victorian England

The Victorians are famous for flower symbolism and adopted the wisteria ‌to represent passionate love and longing,‌ represented by the clinging nature of the vine. Wisteria is not a plant that grows easily in the British climate, but the elite imported it for its rareness and beauty and came to associate the wisteria flowers with the phrase “I cling to you.”

[source]

I chose wisteria for this one because they represent new beginnings. When we meet Zuko he’s hurt, he’s angry, he’s still trying to accept things about himself that he’s been told are wrong. He’s strong and ready to take on anything thrown at him from a boom-a-rang to the head to finding the avatar that’s been missing for 100 years (an impossible quest). Then we have Sokka who is learning how the world actually works outside the Southern Water Tribe. He takes on the role as leader making sure the other two stay safe (as much as he can) because he can handle the pressure. He greets each thing thrown at him with a (mostly) open mind and heart.

Japanese Maple For These Things Unsaid

The Symbolism and Spiritual Meaning of Japanese Maple Trees

There are many symbols of Japanese red maple trees, such as abundant blessings, peace, beauty, patience, survival, the arrival of autumn, and so on. It is common to see Japanese people plant maple trees in their houses to bring luck and add good value to their houses by believing in red maple trees’ spiritual meaning.

Abundant Blessing

Japanese maple trees produce “samara” fruit in large amounts during September and October. This is because samara is a winged seed that scatters via a northwesterly wind at that time of year.

Samara seeds are also edible during the springtime. However, also consult a physician before ingesting anything in the wild.

Peace

The Japanese maple tree is a significant tree in nature, or “kito,” which means calm, rest, or peace. The symbol of peace keeps people calm and avoids stress and accidents to create a safe and happy life.

Beauty

The Japanese maple tree is known for its elegance and tastefulness, which many people find appealing. Even its shrubs have beautiful colors. Like most trees in the autumn, momiji leaves turn red, brown, purple, and gold.  

Because of their beauty, maple leaves are a common motif in traditional Japanese clothes. Kimonos, in particular, sport this lovely look, and it’s a perfect design for both autumn and winter.

Patience

Because maple trees take so long to grow to their most mature height, they are a common symbol of patience. For instance, maple trees must take about twenty to thirty years to reach their required length or height. 

To humans, momiji further represents that we must take time to reach our goals. Rushing to our goals will only make things worse. This is why we appreciate the timeless beauty of the Japanese maple tree.

Endurance

Red maple trees in Japan are famous for their association of partial shade areas so that they can still grow mature and beautiful even though there is just a little exposure to sunlight. These trees reflect to humans the ability to survive without giving up no matter how difficult the challenge they have encountered or how bad the environment existed.

[source]

I chose the Japanese Maple not only because of it’s beauty but also because in book two both Sokka and Zuko start to learn patience and endurance. They both struggle with these in different ways but this is where they really start to grow. Book two also brings us brief moments of peace where the two of them can actually be together even if we already know that they’re going to separate again.

Sakura for These Things Known

The sakura bloom marks the end of chilly winters and the beginning of the spring season. However, this is not the only sign of the sakura flowers. They bring in a lot more, including a rich history and cultural significance in Japan. 

A long time ago, sakura was used to predict the year’s planting and harvest seasons by indicating the right time to plant crops for farmers. Because of that, the beginning of the sakura season is seen as a sign of renewal in Japan. 

Sakura also symbolizes human mortality for many Japanese people. The short blooming period of sakura is often compared to the fleeting nature of life. The flowers are beautiful and brilliant during their strongest bloom, but then it withers and becomes fragile when their time comes, similar to the human life cycle. It reminds people that life is both short and precious. 

Japan also starts its fiscal and school year in April, during the cherry blossom season. Sakura, in this case, is a symbol of good luck and hope in Japanese culture. 

[source]

Sakura is the most obvious. Not only was Sakura the first tree I picked and I couldn’t get over the way it looked, but also it represents their love for one another. This is the book where they can finally be together. This is the book where they try and make everything as right as they can. They’re still learning and fucking up but they love each other and you can really see it here.

#fanfic bookbinding #avatar #zukka #erisenyo #I spent way too much time reserching trees #also I had to rewrite my reasons way too many times to the point where I started second guessing myself. #Was this really why? #We just don't know anymore

[lovebillyhargrove]

Wake me up when July is around

Chapter 12/?

***

November is halfway through its drizzles, last whirling leaves in a hurry to catch up with those that have already been swished away, misty mornings and murky twilight. The days are mostly gray and windy, but there are still some rare sunny ones with the air so chilly and crisp, breathing it in is like drinking refreshing minty lemonade. The sun is not lighting up the woods in bright autumn colours anymore, like it did in September and October, and all that's left are dark bare branches wherever you look. Suddenly the world has lost its vivid colours.

Just like Steve's life. It's gray and warmless.

It's lonely, and

Cold.

Same as November nights.

Steve hates the nights now. It's brooding time, and that's not fun.

He opens the window in his room wide, surrenders to the cold, and smokes.

Usually the night sky is overcast in clouds, with the darkness hanging low

But sometimes the sky is pitch black clear

And Steve watches the glowing moon and the twinkling stars

Cigarette smoke curling up

He's watching the outline of the dark woods - the woods that might be keeping a terrible secret

Of how a girl vanished into thin air

And not a trace of her was ever to be found again.

Nothing is clear about it, up to today. It still remains a terrifying unsolved mystery.

Steve is standing in front of the open window,

The night air so fresh.

It doesn't make him calm. It doesn't bring him the peace of mind

Instead, it awakens an even deeper yearning.

He wonders if a heart is broken once, it's going to stay like this for the lifetime.

***

Nancy is not sitting with Steve at lunch anymore, she's always with Jonathan. Tommy is sending them daggers across the lunch hall, but Steve doesn't even want to look their way. It hurts.

King Steve, wounded by the sword of love and bleeding out, everyone! Gather round to watch the King be defeated!

No-one gives a fuck, really. The school is living its life.

Steve's feeling lonely, but he's not alone - he is surrounded by his usual court - Tommy, Carol and Nicole. It's Tommy and Carol who make occasional snide remarks about Nancy and her new boyfriend, and although Steve's still mad, it somehow doesn't sit right with him. He used to feed on malice, but now he'd rather have silence.

Steve needs to process everything, he doesn't need the useless noise.

However, when he does get time alone at home, especially when his parents aren't there, he discovers that silence doesn't bring any comfort or clarity.

It brings unrest and gloom.

And so he opens the window again at night and lights a cigarette

The chilly clear air doesn't make him calm.

Nothing makes him the way he was before.

Steve doesn't know what to do with it. He wonders if he's ever, ever going to feel light and happy again.

He is too young to feel this wretched.

***

The SAT results came in and they weren't good. Last spring when he was still a careless junior and so - oh my god, he was so - in love, floating on air and making plans to conquer the heart of the most beautiful girl in the world, he scored around 750 points, which was embarrassingly low but Steve didn't care. Last spring was the coolest time when everything seemed possible and the future seemed bright, regardless of stupid exams.

This year he got 890.

He shouldn't make any rash decisions. He should choose carefully.

Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Columbia, UCLA, you name it. All of these places will welcome him with open doors and arms.

What a bunch of crap.

Steve doesn't even want to study for four - is it four? - more years of his life. He doesn't like studying. There, he said it. Whose idea was it even? Mom's, dad's? .. Wasn't it clear to them from the beginning that their son is not cut out for university?

Mom told him to have a plan B.

He doesn't but he must totally think of something. Later.

Steve throws together the SAT results, coach Nelson's recommendation, the application essay Nancy helped him write, and sends it anyways, to a couple of much less prestigious higher education establishments. This way, he'll tell his parents he's done everything that's in his power, if they ask.

***

Today at lunch Steve can't help himself. He's watching Nancy, out of the corner of his eye, and

She looks so sad.

She just looks so fucking sad, it's breaking his heart all over again, shattering small pieces into even tinier ones.

Maybe he shouldn't have listened to Tommy. Writing slut all over the school wall was probably too much.

She cheated on him, she did.

It wasn't like that, Steve!

But she never explained like what it was.

She hurt him and he hurt her back, but did it make him feel better?

For a moment, yeah.

It isn't her fault Steve wasn't able to provide her with the consolation she was looking for.

It isn't her fault that she didn't love him.

When today's classes are finished, Harrington walks out of the school building, heading to his beamer

Tommy is catching up with him

"Hey, man! Whatcha doing tonight?"

"Uhm .. I'm not sure. Why?"

"Just wanted to .. I dunno. Hang out?"

Tommy is taking out two cigarettes and offering one to Steve. He accepts.

The first drag feels especially good.

Carol is joining the two boys a minute later.

They spot Nancy and Jonathan walking together to Byers' old beat and rusty Ford LTD.

What does she even see in that guy, it's beyond Steve's comprehension. To dump him for .. that ? She didn't love Steve but she loves him now ??

"Ugh I cannot look at these two, like .." It's Carol scrunching her face in disgust

Tommy's chiming in

"Byers' face creeps the fuck out of me."

"Totally."

"He looks like such a psycho. People still don't know what happened to his brother last summer. Maybe he was holding him in their basement or some sick shit like that."

"Wouldn't be surprising."

Carol's popping her gum and that sets Steve off

"Tommy, just .. maybe don't jump to assumptions like that?"

"What ..? Why not?"

"I'm just saying, no-one knows what happened, so .."

"Yeah, whatever. The dude's still a total creep. Did you see the look on his face when he was beating you up? Like .. he was so mad at you for calling his family what it is. He could've killed you, easy."

"He's absolutely sick."

"Guys, enough."

Carol's chuckling mean and nasty

"Oh god, I just got an image of him making that face while he and Nancy are screwing, ew, yuck."

She pops the gum once more and the sound of it and her giggling is so off-putting - Steve did ask them both to stop, didn't he? - something snaps inside of him

"Why don't you shut your mouth, Carol?"

His friend's girlfriend is taken aback

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Hey! What's your problem, man?" They may be best friends but you gotta defend your girl's honour.

However, Steve's had enough of their poison

"You're both being assholes, that's my problem!"

"Are you serious right now, man?"

What Tommy is saying is

I'm your friend, bro, I'm on your side. Everything I do, I fucking do it for you. The fuck's wrong with you?

"Yeah I'm serious. I don't know, Tommy .. Maybe we shouldn't have done that."

"You mean call her out for what she really is? Oh that's funny cause I don't remember you saying no to the whole idea."

"Yeah okay, and maybe I was wrong like .. I don't know, man!" Steve should definitely lower his voice because people are starting to pay attention.

"What the hell, Steve?" Tommy is nervously taking the last drag and flicking the cigarette butt away

"Neither of you ever cared about her. You never even liked her!"

"That's right, we never did. We never told you otherwise!"

That's true. Since day one Steve's friends have always disliked his good girl girlfriend

"We never pretended to like her. But we tolerated her!" Tommy's voice sounds bitter

For you.

Carol rolls her eyes and - God help him if she's gonna pop that stupid gum again

"What was there to like anyways? She turned you into a pussy-whipped loser!"

"And she cheated on you."

Like he needs it rubbed in his face right now.

"Shut up, Carol!"

Enough. Tommy's grabbing Harrington by the collar of his jacket and gets his face close to Steve's.

"Hey! I don't know what's gotten into you, man, but you don't talk to her that way."

Steve kinda hates Tommy right now. Hagan's all in his space, crowding him against the car

They are both all in his space, in his personal business, it's suffocating

"Get out of my face."

He's grasping Tommy's wrists, trying to free himself

"What are you gonna do, huh? You gonna fight me too now, Steve?"

People are definitely looking. There might be teachers nearby. Steve doesn't need another detention

"I wouldn't recommend that, Harrington. You couldn't even take Byers."

Tommy spits on the ground and Steve shoves him away, finally. It stings, it fucking stings,

He opens the car and gets in, he wants to

Fucking

Be alone. It won't make him feel any better, but he can't stand being around Tommy and Carol right now

"Here, let me get the fucking door for you, buddy!"

The door slams, tires screech and Harrington's beamer takes off

"That's right, run away, Stevie boy! Run away, just like .. like you always do! That Nancy's turned you into a little pussy!"

Tommy's aware that now everyone in the parking lot is fucking staring cause he's yelling

Let them.

Carol's holding him by the arm.

"Hey .."

"That's right, Harrington! Run! Run the hell away!"

Hagan is still following the speeding away beamer with his eyes

"Stop shouting, Tommy, he can't hear you."

Carol sighs and pops the gum again

What the fuck was that, really. Tommy can't believe Steve has gone so fucking soft and gooey for a chick who doesn't deserve him.

This is the downfall of King Steve which he has been predicting all along.

Fucking bitch. Steve's even stomping all over their friendship because of her.

A decade of friendship. They've stayed together with Wheeler for half a year? ..

Tommy's got feelings too, you know?

They've been best friends since forever, and it's .. Harrington's gone rabid.

"What's everyone looking at, huh? The show's finished!"

They sure had their share of fights with Steve over the years, but not ..

Not like that.

***

***

Harrington doesn't even come to lunch hall anymore. Who needs food. He goes to his beamer and smokes during lunch break.

He ghosts through classes and during the ones they share Billy notices that King Steve has been looking a bit worse for wear lately.

It doesn't make him less pretty, on the contrary. It has added a veil of sadness to his face, a veil of .. mystery?

Depth, even.

The hell Billy's thinking about, there is no fucking mystery, the dude just got so pussy-addicted, he's having a hard time breaking himself out of it. It's pathetic, not mysterious.

That is why it's a rule - no to heavy drugs. Including fucking feelings.

Hargrove witnessed the ugly scene between Harrington and Hagan in the school parking lot. It looked like they were about to kiss, Tommy standing on tiptoes and Steve holding him by the wrists. That was entertaining to watch. So much pique, so much wounded passion. Billy wonders if Carol is aware of her boyfriend's crush on his best friend.

If Billy is honest with himself, which he usually is, he kinda misses the fire and the sass, and the mean pettiness. Steve stops coming to lunch at all, and it doesn't sit well with Billy. Like something that's always been on his radar, disappeared out of sight, but he still keeps searching for it, following an echo of a habit.

Life in Hawkins has become a tiny bit more uninteresting all of a sudden.

The fuck?

It's humdrum as it is, but uh ..

Billy misses the irritating itch and pushing each other around during basketball practice.

He tries riling Harrington up during a game once or twice, when the sad fuck is actually playing and not chilling on the bench. For one week straight he came to practice limping and complained of a sprained ankle to the coach

Total bull

"The former king of school gave up being captain just like that, huh? How does it feel to be even worse than a loser?"

Billy's breathing down Steve's neck trying to take the ball from him

"A loser without the crown?"

Steve spikes the ball so hard, it goes flying off the court

The coach blows the whistle and Andy's like

"Harrington, what the hell?"

Steve looks like he couldn't care less about any of that

Leaves Hargrove standing there.

All Billy gets in return in not even a shove

Or even a fiery or an icy look - he would gladly take either at this point.

Or a fuck off

Billy gets nothing in return,

Zero reaction,

and it bothers him

Way more than a normal amount.

And yeah, on top of that, the fact that he's actually bothered annoys the hell out of him too. It's like double vexation, and Billy doesn't quite understand what's going on.

***

The most boring of all American holidays is coming up.

Billy recalls the time when he was little, they used to have family dinners on Thanksgiving, that is, when Mom was still part of their family. It was fine, he liked the food. He was snooping around the kitchen, while mom was cooking, sticking his little nose wherever he could, curious and eager to help.

After mom left, they never celebrated Thanksgiving with Neil. No extended family to visit.

When Susan appeared in their life, family Thanksgiving dinner became a thing. A much hated, but unavoidable obligation.

Billy fears this year it's going to be even worse than usual, because as he remembers, Susan and Neil have made plans to visit her hicktown relatives, and not just Aunt Shirley and Uncle Dean, no, it's gonna be a whole bunch of them getting together including the 100-year old nana

Like a huge Thanksgiving family reunion.

It's gonna be worse than a zombie apocalypse.

Shit.

However, the sun has shone on Billy once here in Hicksville, and it shines on him for the second time, which makes him particularly thankful on this holiday

His whole family is going to visit Susan's relatives, and Billy is again off the hook. Max is going feral, she doesn't wanna go. Susan is trying to smooth the rough edges, Max has no choice.

Billy is -

Ta-da! -

staying at home absolutely alone - this time for three whole fucking days.

How do you like that, Maxine?

Thursday, Friday, Saturday and even Sunday morning. On Thursday and Friday there's no school due to the holiday.

My god, dad, you're so embarrassed of me, you'd rather let me stay here again and enjoy myself than drag me along and make me suffer?

Billy will sure crack a can of beer for that on Thanksgiving morning.

Bless Susan and her dull relatives. Bless Hawkins, Indiana. Bless life.

Only seven months to go in this shithole, and so far, it's been bearable.

Billy expected much worse.

He doesn't have work on Thanksgiving Thursday, so it's the same routine - he sleeps in late, drinks beer for breakfast, lifts weights watching MTV, smokes whatever he wants and pleasures himself watching porn on the family couch again.

On Friday he gets up late and drives to work. Old Joe invites him to have lunch together, for which he's brought plenty of leftovers from yesterday's festive dinner.

"Your wife's a great cook, Mr. Daley."

"I'll make sure to tell her that."

Old man's son Pete came on a visit from Indianapolis with his wife, and Billy listens to his boss ramble about them.

Mr. Daley closes the shop early cause he clearly wants to get back to his family and spend time with them when he has the chance, so Billy gets to come home at five-thirty. He hangs around the empty house, blasts music in his room and calls Vicky to arrange a date for tomorrow. Vicky has been too clingy lately, he should probably break it off before she gets the wrong idea.

He's not relationship material, definitely not looking for any.

One last fuck won't hurt anyone though.

***

***

Steve goes to Indianapolis for the holiday weekend to visit mom's sister's family and then dad's cousin. Parents aren't even picking at his brain during the long drive. They are treating him with .. caution as if afraid to make matters worse. Steve thinks that's all mom's doing, because he can see his dad is this close to snapping. What can he do to him though? Not give him money for fucking lunch or gas? Or clothes? Take his car keys away for a while, so that he doesn't go to school at all? Steve feels his parents are at a loss like they aren't sure what to do with their difficult son.

This November he's skipped classes, got multiple detentions, two days of suspension, has gotten into a serious fight, almost started a couple of more, has supposedly vandalized school property, voluntarily given up being captain of the school basketball team, is no longer in a relationship with the most perfect girl - his parents did like Nancy .. what else? Fucked up his SATs, as well as his chances at having a decent future, has been drinking and smoking too much .. so yeah, mom is walking on eggshells around him while dad is getting angrier and more frustrated by the minute.

Steve's just watching the road and the endless fields and woods while listening to some romantic shit playing on the radio in the car. He hasn't got a single thought in his head.

It's cold, it's lonely and the emptiness is gonna stay for fucking ever.

***

***

December starts quietly, just like winter noiselessly creeps up on you, on soft kitten paws. It's getting even colder and colder, and although Hawkins doesn't get too much snow in winter, snowflakes start slowly falling from the sky.

Billy hates the cold, but white snowflakes do look beautiful on the blue hood of his car.

Everyone has to start dressing in warmer winter jackets which is something completely new for the Hargrove-Mayfield siblings. They both dislike it, and there's even an unspoken sort of truce established between them now, like they are both unhappy about the grey skies and they both long for the sunshine and wearing hoodies as their warmest item of clothing. The camaro is ice cold in the mornings and Billy's freezing his ass off starting the car, waiting for Max to drag hers out of the house.

Max has gotten much better about being on time for pick-up and stuff, whether it's school or the arcade, cause skate boarding in Indiana winter is tricky, and she did walk home once when Billy decided to remind her about punctuality. He got taught a lesson in return by his dad later that day, but the whole educational exchange has brought results - Max is almost always on time now.

And it's been making him lose his mind, to Max's not-so-well-hidden satisfaction and glee, although she held on tight to the seatbelt and went slightly white in the face whenever it happened.

The winter shenanigans have indeed strangely brought them just a tiny step closer - how surprised they were to see their breath on an especially frosty morning, the first puddle covered in an icy crust, the first snowflakes they saw falling, - they both think snow is kinda cool, Max slipping a few excited ohh-s and ahh-s and watching it in awe, and Billy rolling his eyes but secretly quite liking the snow himself. He is, however, unleashing full hate on the fucking sleet or ice on the roads - Billy has to drive much much slower now because of it. He still hasn't figured out how to deal with the treacherous enemy after the camaro hit patches of ice and went into a skid on more than a couple of occasions. Billy did not enjoy the feeling of not being in control of his car

Billy can't just floor the gas pedal anymore when he feels like it. He has to control his impulses.

Fucking ice be fucked.

***

***

Hawkins High School Homecoming marks the first week of December, and goes by unnoticed by Steve who's not allowed to participate in any activities that have been planned, and by Billy who simply doesn't give a shit. Hawkins High cannot boast a decent football team, or an indecent one, the whole celebration revolves around a basketball game instead. This year Hawkins Tigers effortlessly score a victory over Greenwood Eagles, the second one since September, and that was the only thing Hargrove actually took part in. The gym was packed, even the town mayor attended the match.

One evening after Homecoming fuss has settled down Tommy calls Steve -

A long deep exhale

"Just wanted to know how you've been, Harrington."

And Steve is kinda glad to hear his voice.

Tommy tells him that this year Homecoming was by far the dullest one.

"It sucked without you being there. I was bored to death. Winning the match was easy as pie. Guess who got coronated as the homecoming king at the dance?"

"Hargrove?"

"Nah, the dude didn't even show up."

The fucking always showing off attention guzzler didn't come to the dance?

Interesting.

No, it was Andy, the new captain of Hawkins Tigers. Tina was Homecoming Queen, of course, which made a lot of girls jealous, especially Vicky. She's been so bitchy lately cause Hargrove, apparently, is getting fed up with her.

It's clear that Tommy is offering Harrington peace, and when on Monday they smoke in the school parking lot standing by Steve's beamer just like in the old times, the two boys even make an attempt at having some kind of a heart-to-heart conversation

"It's just that .. it fucking sucks to see you like that, man."

"It's fine. I'll be okay. I know you want to help and stuff but maybe .. maybe you and Carol should stay out of it."

"You're asking me to stay out of it when that .."

He wants to say slut but he doesn't

"Just goes and treats you like that?"

"I'll deal with it myself, Tommy. I don't need your help, okay?? It's just .. it's making everything worse."

"Okay man. Okay. As you wish." Tommy's throwing hands in the air

He sounds offended, but frail peace is still better than not talking to your best friend.

"The way you're trying to help, it's not helping. Especially Carol with her fucking comments. I dunno .. just stay out of it, at least for the time being, alright?"

"Yeah, fine."

The smoke floats beautifully around them on that cold wintery day.

"Wheeler really did a number on you."

There's no sense in fighting the truth.

"Yeah .. she did, Tommy. She did."

***

***

After Homecoming, Middle school is about to have some fun - it is time for the annual Hawkins Winter Ball.

Billy drops Max off, and just to make sure everything is okay, goes inside for a minute or two. He sees Byers taking pictures of the kids and Wheeler chaperoning. They are smiling at each other across the hall, like the lame lovebirds that they are. Billy doesn't know the details, but Tommy has spread enough reliable information around.

King Steve got fucked over.

Billy notices Max talking to a weird-looking girl, and sees the familiar faces of the dweebs his step-sister usually hangs out with.

Everything looks okay, so he goes outside and sees Tommy frantically waving a hand at him from his ford. He's with his girlfriend, they brought Carol's brother to the party. Billy doesn't want to freeze his balls off sitting in the camaro, nor does he want to drive home and then come back - ice roads be damned - so he climbs into Tommy's ford and takes out two neatly rolled joints that he just happens to have in the pocket of his winter jacket.

They drive a little further away from the school and smoke the weed. It's not enough to get completely stoned or anything but it's enough to kill the time and shoot some dumb shit.

Billy even appreciates the unexpected company because he's been in a foul mood all day. He hates all this upcoming happy holiday season family bullshit, and he is dreading the winter break because he's gonna be staying at home with his precious family, all stuck together, and Billy's never done it before, for so many days, with nowhere to go. He's willing to work overtime in Old Joe's garage for free. He will probably do exactly that.

Billy also knows winter holidays in Indiana are not gonna be a particularly enjoyable experience, he can't even stay outside for a long time in this fucking weather, he'll freeze to death. He's been thinking about driving to California for the break, but his dad would never allow him that, even though all the expenses would be on Billy. Fuck, he'd just drive there for a week, crash at Nick's place, see his buddies, spend time by the ocean .. Billy is aware, if he drives away, he might as well stay there and not come back because Neil will simply shut the door in his face when he returns.

Four months till he turns eighteen, seven months till he's free to go.

Billy's also in a bad mood cause he got a bad dream last night.

He was swimming in the cold ocean, trying to reach his mom who he saw ahead of him. It was so exhausting, he was swimming and pushing himself to the limit, but whenever he tried to take her hand or get ahold of her floating white dress - he couldn't.

He wanted to reach her so bad

Mom, please

Dark grey waters swirling all around him, and mom's white dress in front of his eyes, and the feeling of hopelessness telling him to stop, turn back, it's useless

Billy didn't give up, he persisted, he swam and swam until his whole body hurt and there were spasms in his muscles

The moment he finally reached her, his hand getting tangled in her wet dress

And his fingers touching hers

He grabbed her hand. It was ice cold, morgue freezing

Somehow it was colder than the water around him

His mother was dead, body floating in the ocean, serpentine hair hiding her face

The white dress tangled all around Billy's arm

He wanted to let go, get away, get back to the shore

The white shreds of fabric, like tentacles of a giant octopus, not letting him free

Mom, please !!

Billy woke up in cold sweat, teeth clattering, blanket on the floor, he must've kicked it off in his sleep.

He doesn't know.

How it feels to live in this world

When you're loved by the people who brought you here

Billy only knows how it feels to exist when you're unloved.

There's a black void in his chest

That's never going to be filled.

Repaired, fixed, mended.

Billy can't forgive his mother.

But if she called and told him to come visit - wherever - he'd drop everything in a second and drive.

It was just a bad dream, they happen, seldom.

He's gotten used to it acting up, like an ulcer.

All of this, Billy keeps to himself, their meaningless conversation with Tommy and Carol is light, dumb and fun, it helps take Billy's mind off certain things, and the time goes by quickly.

When a happy Max drops into the passenger seat, they have a friendly exchange like

"You smell like weed, Billy."

"Not you damn business, Maxine."

And after driving in silence for a couple of minutes

"Who was that weird girl you were talking to?"

"Jane. She's new."

"She looks like she was held in one of those doomsday bunkers all her life."

Max is shrugging her shoulders

"Yeah, I don't know .. she's cool."

***

Billy is greedy enough to hope his family would go celebrate Christmas with Susan's relatives like they did with Thanksgiving, but that doesn't happen.

What does happen, is a very ceremonious Christmas dinner at home, Max wearing an ugly dress and Billy putting on his "good boy" blue button up.

When he and Neil were living alone, his dad didn't bother with the Christmas tree. It was just a usual day, and Billy didn't get any presents.

Susan's appearance in their lives has changed that, same as with other holidays.

The blue shirt was Susan's gift for last Christmas. This time it was 20 bucks in a merrily decorated gift card.

Susan must have her ways of persuading Neil to do nice things for Billy. Cause dad would never shell out twenty dollars for his son's Christmas gift.

She's really trying to make it look like they have a family, and sometimes she gets to have the upper hand. Billy almost feels bad for her but then, he might be wrong. Maybe Susan's happy with Neil. Maybe he's someone she's been looking for, who the fuck knows.

***

There's a New Year party at Andy's right after Christmas. His mom and dad are out of town visiting friends, and Andy couldn't pass up such an opportunity.

It's not as massive as previous high school parties this senior year, cause some people went away on holidays with their parents, and time for preparation was not nearly enough.

But it's still a party, with booze and loud music and teenagers who just want to have a good time.

"Come on, motherfuckers, let's celebrate the night!" Tommy's loud battle-cry announces the beginning of chaos

And chaos does unravel.

There isn't even any special entertainment tonight, everyone just wants to get wasted and shake off the burden of everyday school life. Adult responsibilities are around the corner, and people wish to hold on to being irresponsible for just a bit longer.

When everybody is already drunk and breaking up into small groups and couples, Andy/Tina, Tommy/Carol and Hargrove end up in a room upstairs, sitting comfortably on the floor, and Billy's generous enough again to share his Californian weed with the assembled powwow.

Tina's pissed at him cause Hargrove hasn't invited Vicky to join the session.

"Why didn't you bring your girlfriend?"

"Who?"

Tina's rolling her beautiful eyes in a guys-are-such-pigs display

"Seriously, Billy?"

Andy is pulling his girlfriend closer

"Baby, it's kinda their business?"

"Well, she's my friend, and she's .." - Tina is whispering in Andy ear for everyone to hear, - "In love!"

Not much of a secret anyway.

It's Hargrove's turn for an eye roll.

"Tina, hate to break it to you, she's not my girlfriend."

The dark-haired girl looks at him disapprovingly

"Does she know about that?"

"Uh .. yeah?"

Hargrove is getting slightly annoyed

"I'm still new here, tell me are you the town's pimp or something?"

Tommy and Andy laugh like hyaenas, the girls give Hargrove a scornful eye, clearly judging him, and even Harrington chuckles.

Vicky's in love?

Sucks for her, cause Billy isn't.

And yes, Harrington is here too. Tommy has dragged his sad body along. He's been quiet all this time, looking like he's about to perish from the unrequited love right here, right now.

When they are done smoking and the couples get handsy and busy and go to different rooms -

Carol's in a hurry to leave, she still hasn't forgiven Steve for the scene in the parking lot -

Harrington and Billy are left alone.

They are drunk and high and that feels

Fucking amazing.

They are still sitting on the floor, Billy's back against the bed, and Steve's relaxed against the dresser next to it

"Look like it's just you and me, amigo."

Billy's not in the mood for a brawl.

Suddenly there's another neatly rolled blunt in Billy's fingers

"Wanna share?"

Harrington can't help but feel surprised.

The dude's like a drug lord, what the hell

"How much weed do you actually have?"

"A suitcase."

Billy clicks the lighter and takes a deep drag

"Trying to finish it all before I head back home."

"You like traveling light?"

"Who doesn't?"

Wow, look at them having a conversation. Christmas miracles or some shit.

Harrington gets a dumb look on his pretty boy sad face and drawls

"You ever shotgunned before, Hargrove?"

"Maybe a couple of times. Not a big fan."

"Why is that?"

Billy's shrugging the shoulders, and Steve makes a note of how wide they are. Why do they look so .. broad like you wanna .. why aren't his own shoulders like that?

The memory of Hargrove swimming in his pool comes to mind, when he was throwing his arms wide, cutting through the water

"Too intimate."

"Too .. what?"

Billy's chuckling

"Nevermind."

Without warning, Steve thinks if the world is freezing up, and it is after Nancy has left him, nobody cares what he does

What he's about to do

And most importantly, Steve himself doesn't give a fuck.

"I've always wanted to try it."

"You and Tommy never done it before?"

"Uh .. no?" That's a strange question.

"Yeah .. well I don't shotgun."

"Why not?"

Harrington is one hundred percent wasted

"Man, I just told you."

Steve's looking at Billy with wide open eyes and a slightly open mouth, like a fucking baby deer, for fuck's sake

His eyes are pretty too. Deep hazel

It's like Harrington did not hear anything Hargrove told him a second ago cause he's getting on his knees and getting closer to Billy

Looks at him expectantly

Hargrove's throat becomes dry from all the smoking and his voice is hoarse and unexpectedly shaky

"Harrington, I .."

Steve's putting one hand on the other side of Billy's thighs

"Take a hit."

The fucking eyes looking at him like that,

stop looking at me like that

Billy brings the almost finished joint to his lips, inhales slow and deep under Steve's stare

Then puts the blunt on the ashtray on the floor

Everything's under control

And is about to make the distance between their faces minimal

To actually shotgun

When the dumb fuck Harrington suddenly makes a stupid movement

Like his supporting arm gives way and his lips end up touching Billy's cheek

The smoke rolls out of Billy's mouth and he's coughing while Harrington's backing away

Shotgunning, uh-huh. Bambi can't even sit straight

"Dude, the hell? You fucking fell on my face."

Billy's voice is still raspy as fuck

"I did, didn't I?"

Steve's hesitantly and dangerously getting closer to the other boy's mouth, his lips lightly brushing Billy's, feather on feather

Don't do it, Harrington. Not again.

"You're a trippy bitch, Harrington. You called me a fag, remember?"

"So? I'm kissing you now. It doesn't matter."

It's that easy huh

Throwing words around

Life has still so much to teach you, you pretty baby

It's not my job though

I just want to .. give in once again

His lips are too pretty to say no to.

When he's looking at Billy like that

And there's something .. something about him. Like he's offering and insisting but he's also begging at the same time, but also like .. if Billy's gonna say no, Harrington will not be disappointed

But the thing is, he will, and

It's just too delicious a mix to turn down

"You gonna call me a fag again?"

"Jesus, Hargrove. Stop talking."

Harrington is such a fucking asshole, and it makes him so sexy

That easy

His face is so sexy

The fucking lips

Like a magnet

"Even if I do .. Like it's gonna bother you. Affect you in any way."

Harrington is right. All these stupid attempts to make Billy less confident? Lose his footing? It's hilarious. Entertaining.

Do you know how many times my own dad - the only family that I've got - called me different, oh so many different names and words, Steve?

These things are too little to make him fall. His feet are planted

If he wants to be a fag, he'll be one, and no-one will make him feel ashamed for that.

Billy closes his eyes and smiles like a cat

Snorting and fucking purring contentedly

His white teeth flash

And eyelashes give a flutter, and Steve can't contain himself anymore

He can play a little. It brings amusement, it brings distraction. It's not going anywhere, it's a dead end, but it takes his mind off of things so why not

The pull is strong, and it takes them both over

It's not really clear who kisses who this time

Cause they might just move in sync

Lips on lips, eyes wide open

Then Billy drops his heavy eyelashes, and they fucking throw shadows under his eyes, Steve can see them

Hargrove opens his mouth inviting him

And Steve dives in

He doesn't pull away when their tongues touch, like he did last time

Hargrove's tongue is wet and smooth and Steve's closing his eyes as well

He lets himself go wild

They kiss like they're two horny teenagers

They kiss like they're about to fuck

They kiss like all hell got loose

Sliding their tongues on each other's lips and into the mouths

Licking in deep and slow

Fucking .. deeper and slower like they are letting themselves really enjoy it

Lashes dancing, getting glimpses of each other's flushed faces

Billy is so hard in his jeans, and suddenly

He needs to know if Harrington is hard too.

Billy awkwardly places his hand on Steve's crotch and squeezes

Harrington's definitely hard, and his dick is big, just like it was promised in the showers

Not that Billy was looking

Who cares

Even of he was

It's not gonna lead to anything more tonight -

or ever -

Cause Harrington is breaking off the kiss

The kiss that tastes so good

Just like in Tina's bathroom - he unlocks their lips and moves back

Like a fucking teasing bitch that he is

Billy wants more of it, he does, his dick wants more

But Steve's pulling away and placing a gap between them

And Billy .. Billy's not gonna chase him

"Don't get any ideas, California."

There it is, a tiny prick on Billy's skin and a little dose of venom is getting injected

Harrington fucking kissed him again, and then California put him at a no-kissing, nothing personal distance.

You don't need it, Billy, it's not worth it, he's just a self-entitled tease.

"No worries. You might have a pretty face but it's not enough for me to get any ideas, Harrington."

Billy gets up from the floor and walks away.

Steve's left alone. The kite is still flying high but

What was that ..? Steve's pretty face is not enough to give Hargrove any ideas?

Sounds like a challenge.

And yeah, he kissed the guy again. It was a spur of the moment, Steve's allowed a weakness or two.

Going through a breakup is hard.

***

When Steve stumbles inside the house after midnight reeking of weed, and finds his parents in the living room god knows why waiting for their son to show up - only mom waited up for him before, - it leads to

First, an unpleasant conversation which Steve doesn't give a flying fuck about trying not to giggle as much at his father's indignant face

"Dad, come on, it's only marijuana, Jesus."

Second, unexpected consequences.

Parents are taking him away to Lake Michigan for the winter break. The Harringtons own a house up there, right on the shore. In fact, Steve loved visiting the place when he was little, the whole family used to spend several weeks there every summer. He's never been up there in winter.

Mom makes a point that it's not a way to punish him, but an attempt to break the cycle. Detentions? Behavioural problems? Suspension? Smoking pot?? Son you need to take a break, get things straight in your head. Have you sent applications to colleges? Do you need any help?

Next morning when Steve slips out of his room to the bathroom, he overhears parents talking in the kitchen. His mom is trying to make her voice as hushed as possible

"Honey, he's been through so much. It was a traumatic experience, that girl and .. and now he's broken up with Nancy Wheeler. Such a shame, I really liked her."

Dad's voice is booming

"That's not an excuse!"

Steve tiptoes back to his room and slides under the blanket where it's nice, warm and there aren't any problems

Only to be woken up by mom thirty minutes later.

"Come on, Stevie, we are leaving in two hours! Breakfast and packing, come on!"

Whatever. Guess he'll just look at fucking snow around him for all ten days.

***

***

During winter holidays Billy comes early to his shifts in the garage and stays late after, just as he has planned on doing. He asks his boss if that's okay, he doesn't expect to get paid extra, he simply wants to keep his hands busy

And stay out of the house.

Old Joe doesn't pry

"There's always work here, son, if you want it."

The only thing close to having some kind of fun that Hargrove does at the beginning of January, is smoking a couple of blunts with Tommy who comes visit him at the repair shop around closing time. It's not like they are friends, but Tommy probably doesn't know that. Anyways, it doesn't hurt to spend an hour sitting in the camaro

"Winter fucking sucks, Tommy. Ice is the worst."

"Wait till we get black ice, man. All roads are gonna be one big skating rink."

What the hell is black ice, sweet mother of Jesus.

It's definitely the weed that makes his tongue loose and asking stuff he doesn't need or want to know

Gotta keep the small talk flowing

"When is Harrington coming back?"

Tommy shoots a glance at Hargrove

"You miss him or something?"

"Yeah right .."

Billy snorts

"Just can't believe a dude can get so fucked up over a bitch."

"Yeah .. I don't know. Love hurts or something."

"I guess."

Billy has never been in love and doesn't want it. The heaviest drug of them all.

Loving someone never leads to anything good in the end, only pain.

"How long you and Carol been together?"

"We've known each other since childhood but like together ..? Maybe a couple of years?"

Tommy inhales the smoke, holds it in and lets it out

"She can be a real bitch but like .. we get each other, you know?"

Billy gives a little nod.

He thinks to himself, it's Tommy who misses Harrington. He can't blame him. Friends will be friends, until life breaks them apart.

Billy should definitely call Nick, ask him how it's going, share the pain of having to drive with stupid ice on the roads. He can probably do it from a payphone, not to involve Neil in seeing the phone bill though.

***

Billy doesn't see Harrington during winter break in reality, but he does he see him in a dream once

And of course, it has to be a fucking sex dream, like .. why ?

He can still recall it when he opens his eyes early in the morning, he remembers the sensation of his hard dick being swallowed whole

Billy's sprawled out on his bed, stark naked. His legs are spread wide, and there's someone's warm mouth on his cock. Billy's getting the best blowjob of his life. It's so slow, so tantalizing, erotic. It's making him feel so fucking good, light and breezy

Billy doesn't see the face but he somehow knows that it is Harrington down there between his legs. He places his hand on the head slowly moving up and down, he's touching the hair, getting a fistful of it, and it sends sparkles up his spine, lighting up every fucking cell in his body

It's like he's bathing in bliss.

Billy wakes up long before his alarm clock is supposed to go off, it's still dark in the room, and in a half-sleepy daze

He takes his time jerking off, holding on to the bliss, thinking about Harrington's lips on his own.

They've kissed two times, one drunk kiss, the other one stoned, and Billy's heart is stumbling down the spiral chute when he recalls either, or both.

He shouldn't be thinking about it though

Cause when he does

It leaves him wanting.

#harringrove #billy x steve #harringrove slow burn #s1steve x billy #harringrove high school shenanigans #harringrove fic

[fantasykim]

fake religions

I am a freak, and I know that, but I like to spend my free time creating worlds, cities and religions from scratch. here is a religion I put way too much work into for literally no reason.

Physisism-

the belief in which there is one true Goddess, Mother Earth. She is known by many other names, including but not limited to:

Heavenly Mother

Mother Gaia

Mother Nature

Mother Earth

The seven laws of Physis are and as follows-

All things must return to the mother

If the mother gives then man must give back

Anyone touched by the mothers hand of Disaster or Disease is paying their pence for the crime of a past life

Respect thy Mother, Wife, Sisters, and Daughters (Respect all women)

Strive to better and strengthen thy body, mind and spirit

Correct sin when seen and safe

One can never be reborn again if an unforgivable sin has been committed

The three unforgivable sins are and as follows

Laying thy hands upon a woman or child in a violent or unwanted sexual manner

Disrespecting mother nature

Taking without giving back

Killing an animal for food or clothing and not using every last bit of the animal

Taking the life of an innocent person

-----

I also created holidays, places of worship, a style of worship and prayer, I wrote their scriptures and everything- here is some of the Physis sacred word------

Passage one-

In the beginning, there was nothing. When all came together in a cosmic explosion creating the universe, and thus The Mother was created along with it. By thy Mother's hand, the earth was pulled together. The Mother perfectly sculpted matter into mountains and oceans. Her godly touch brought life to the surface. By the brush of her hand up sprung trees, and fruit they did bear. 

And by thy Mother's grace, she built life, animals to walk her land, each sculpted to perfection without flaw. 

Passage two-

The mother watched her land and sought to add to it’s beauty. She took up her brush and painted leaves of red and gold. She started a circle as her living things passed with beauty. She called it Autumn. 

Then she brought up her knife and cut flakes of iced silver, each perfectly crafted and not two alike. She draped blankets of white over herself and called it winter.

And when the mother smiled upon the world it brought up the sun, and it melted away the snow. And thus she reached out and pulled flowers up from the soil and thus she called it spring.

And when the mother wished it, all things flourished and grew, returning them as they once were and she called it Summer, and thus the circle was complete.

Passage three-

In her days of watching the mother grew lonely, and so she brought up

from the earth a woman, liken to herself, and called her Eve. As Eve was given many sisters they lived in peace with the mother.

And she sculpted each of them by hand, and painted each with brushes made from her own hair. She perfected each and every one before she had them live.

And thus women roamed the earth among the lions and sheep, and among the bushes and trees. And nevertheless, there was peace.

Passage four-

And therefore the mother created another, and it was known as man. And

thus the mother created a counterpart for each of her daughters to love and adore. 

And man was created to love women back. So thus they did. And the mother gave unto them the power to create, and bring forth the new souls to which the mother had crafted.

--------

I created ranks within the established religion of Physis, leadership roles, laws, commandments and all kinds of other stuff... in the end the story I was writing with this got scrapped and I did all that work for nothing, I might re use it in another book someday, but until then I'll put it up here for you guys to appreciate!

#spilled thoughts #spilled ink #reading #writing #spilled writing #writing inspiration #my writing #creative writing #world building #fake religion #obviously it has flaws #that's the point #how else would we get a plot! #thanks for reading #I need to take a nap

[burdenedwithfaith]

Spending today doing a full cleansing and blessing of my space. I feel a lot of stress and anxiety has been building up lately. Sometimes venturing out into the world more comes with the downside of sometimes bringing unfamiliar energy back home.

I've felt it overwhelming me, getting away from me, burying me. So today I'm casting it out and praying for peace and prosperity.

Normally one does this in the spring. New beginnings and all that. But autumn is just as fitting. The death of the old, burying the past.

The rebirth will come soon enough.

#+ johnposting

[mabon-madness]

Sabbats - Plants and Symbolism

The Wiccan calendar consists of 8 Sabbats or festivals, each with its own symbols from across the plant kingdom. From herbs and seeds to flowers and trees, here's a general list of what parts of the plant kingdom can dress your altar as the year progresses. This is just a guideline of course, you can use whatever you have available to you. Imbolc:

White flowers such as snowdrops and dogwood

Blackberry - leaves and berries attract prosperity and healing

Coltsfoot - encourages emotions, brings about love and peace

Ginger - revitalising and warming, a symbol of the warmth of spring

Rowan - traditionally used to ward off evil and for protection

Willow - symbolic of movement and change, enhances confidence

Ostara:

Yellow and purple flowers such as daffodils, crocuses, and violets

Birch - signifies a new beginning and connection to love/fertility goddesses

Ash - the world tree. Teaches that all life is interconnected

Alder - grows between river and land, and holds together the two vital elements

Beltane:

Red and white flowers such as poppies, roses, and daisies

Daisy chains are an easy craft for this festival

Hawthorn - tree of sexuality and fertility. Traditional dressing of the Maypole, and can be made into a brandy

Birch

Rowan

Litha:

Most flowers are at their peak during Litha, so dressing your altar with every colour you can find is best

Elderflower - protective and healing qualities, aiding renewal and change

Rosemary - all aromatic herbs are amazing, but rosemary sprigs and their beautiful purple flowers will look beautiful

Oak - the tree of the Green Man. Crossing the threshold, entering the second half of the year

Mistletoe - usually associated with Yule, but is deemed to be in the peak of its power during Midsummer

Lammas:

All the grains you can find: wheat, barley, oats, rye etc

Bright yellow flowers represent the sun - a key element of summer. Opt for sunflowers, dandelions, and marigolds.

Meadowsweet - a traditional herb for summer wedding bouquets, used in love spells and promotes peace

Mint - protective and healing, brings prosperity and draws abundance

Collect seeds from seedheads and pods you come across. Leave them to dry in the sun for later in the year.

Mabon:

Fresh autumn produce - look for berries, pears, and rosehips

Apples - a symbol of the fruit harvest, of life and immortality. The fruit contains the pentagram when cut widthways where the seeds are, a symbol of all the elements

Plant bulbs, trees and shrubs that will be sprouting in spring.

Remember to try foraging, especially at this time of year. Fruiting trees and brambles will be plentiful.

Samhain:

Scatter seeds in honor of those you have lost

Acorns - represent wisdom and rebirth, can be used as a charm of good fortune

Conkers - a symbol of harvest, abundance, and preparation

Pinecones - traditional symbols of enlightenment and regeneration

Other nuts such as walnuts and hazelnuts are ready to harvest at this time, and will be perfect to adorn your altar

Yule:

The evergreens are symbols of infinity and eternal life. All evergreens can be used to dress your altar.

Holly - an evergreen that repels unwanted spirits. Symbolizes goodwill and everlasting life.

Mistletoe - believed to be a connection between the sky and earth. White berries represent male fertility and the giving of life

Ivy - immortality, and resurrection. Grows in spiral formations to remind us of rebirth and reincarnation

Holly, Mistletoe, and Ivy can be woven into a Kissing Bough

Yew - regeneration. Poisonous so be cautious. New trees grow from the old roots, showing how new life rises from the old

Pine - burning pine needles brings purity and healing to the home

#wiccan sabbat #witchcraft #witchblr #plants #altar ideas

[nwbeerguide]

Alewife Brewing announces upcoming events during NYC Beer Week 2023.

Press Release

Queens, NY...Alewife Brewing celebrates NYC Beer Week 2023 with an eclectic array of events, from the Opening Bash at Industry City along the scenic waterfront of Sunset Park, Brooklyn (Sat., Feb. 25, 12:30pm), heavy metal night at Bierwax Brooklyn (Feb. 28), to commemorating rock photographer Bob Gruen at Fool's Gold (March 1), and a special craft beer and artisanal cheese tasting with Fromagère Kristen Carbone at Alewife Brewing (March 1). Alewife features its unique and innovative beers including: Sunnyside Blonde Ale, Death to Ego Hazy IPA, Queens Blvd Double IPA, Thousand Stars German-Style Pilsner, 7 Line Amber, Mind Mist NE/Hazy IPA, Tripping on the Forest Floor Brown Ale, I Dream In Mango & Pineapple Fruited Sour IPA, Motueka Prophecy Cold IPA, and Altered State Double IPA.

Saturday, Feb. 25 is the biggest night in craft beer in New York City as 40 NYC Guild Member Breweries unite with more than 35 guest breweries at the Opening Bash at Building 8 in Industry City (LINK). Metal Night at Bierwax Brooklyn brings together Alewife Brewing with KCBC, Fifth Hammer, and Singlecut (556 Vanderbilt Ave, Brooklyn, NY; Feb. 28). Alewife Brewing and Talea Brewing celebrate rock photographer Bob Gruen at Fool's Gold (145 E Houston St, NYC; March 1).

On Wednesday, March 1, the brewers at Alewife Brewing collaborate with Fromagere Kristen Carbone for a special NYC Beer Week tasting event at their beloved brewery (41-11 39th Street, Queens, NY) featuring four exceptional cheeses perfectly paired with seasonal selections from Alewife Brewing. Carbone begins the cheese and craft beer pairing with a 101 intro the cheese education with an epic pairing journey to follow filled with fun and funk! Tickets can be purchased on Eventbrite.

Kristen Carbone is a Fromagere, Curd Nerd and Cheese Enthusiast who has over 6 years of experience in the plating, pairing, and tasting of cheese. From the cellars of Beecher's to the case at Casellula, her time in cheese has built on the solid foundation of tried-and-true pairings and expanded to the weird and the wonderful. For more info about Kristen Carbone, please visit: https://youmebrie.com.

Alewife Brewing’s expansive taproom features 18 Alewife beers on tap plus bottles and cans of saisons, lagers, IPAs, and stouts for on-premise enjoyment and to-go orders. The German beer hall vibe has classic arcade games, pinball, basketball, Street Fighter, corn hole, darts, a pool table, and a selection of kids’ games. Beer lovers can nosh on delicious artisanal items from a curated charcuterie and cheese menu, Fishwife tinned fish, snacks, and free popcorn. The huge outdoor area is perfect for spring, summer and autumn months.

For more information about Alewife Brewing, please visit: alewife.beer/alewife instagram.com/alewifebrewing

###

About Alewife Brewing Alewife Brewing is a small batch brewery located in the heart of the Sunnyside section of Queens, NY. We focus on brewing traditional and innovative styles of beer, using only the finest ingredients. Our goal is to provide a unique and enjoyable drinking experience for all who visit our taproom.

Alewife Brewing has fallen in love with the stories of ancient times and the roles women had in society. The peace they emulated through their beliefs and love towards nature and all species has inspired us to capture their magic in our beers and on our 16 oz. can labels. The latest historical findings suggest that wine was not the oldest elixir, but in fact, beer mixed with psychedelic substances used in shamanistic ceremonies dating back much further. Gathered and formulated, the Alewives were the makers of both spiritual and medicinal potions.

Through our journeys thus far in life, we’ve developed a deep love for ancient elixirs while brewing and traveling to learn ancient and modern techniques for exceptional beers brewed at our new home in Sunnyside, Queens.

Don't worry, it's just beer we make, no special additions!

#New York City Beer Week #Press Release #Beer #Craft Beer #Alewife Brewing

[sunstrvck]

❝𝕴 𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖒𝖆𝖉, 𝖆 𝖌𝖔𝖉 𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙 𝖒𝖊, 𝕴 𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑.❞

                                     high fantasy mumu penned by sam.

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘.

EMIEL LAVERREN | autumn court spymaster 

emiel is one of the younger siblings of the laverren high family, a boy whose position in the family has awarded him the luxury of few responsibilities. he’s headlong and reckless, known for tearing through the keep brandishing sticks as weapons and for stumbling through the red gold forests with leaves in his hair. in his youth his insatiable curiosity and his skill at moving unseen allowed him to be close enough to touch a dragon ( something he had long been forbidden to do ) and it was his continual ability to evade even the most persistent of minders that awarded him his role as spymaster. he excels at his job and is often in other courts because of it, flexing his well developed skills at glamour.

NIENNA ECHETHIER | high lady of day

nienna became high lady after the great war, and she inherited lands that were war torn and halted. her court is one that has benefited from her deep interest in technology and beauty, and her keep has been built into the top of a mountain– the first stretches of morning seep into the dawnstar and she rules peacefully from there. her machinations and desire for advancement are what brings the day court its power, as does its plethora of skilled healers. strong willed and formerly a fierce warrior, she is a force not to be underestimated.

DAEVA | hand to the high lady of night

daeva is the embodiment of one of the continent’s old gods. she is ancient, nearly as old as the continent itself and she has begun to forget her origins and true power. she has taken the form of an illyrian, and has sat in a position of the hand in the night court for nearly fifteen generations. her power and status is well respected and she is one who sees little issue in voicing her opinion and acting as she so desires to better the court and its vision.

CASSIAN LAMANIE | war general for the summer court

he was born something vicious, the first son of an illyrian pairing gone wrong– cassian was brought into the split home of his high fae step father who gleaned at the idea of raising a warrior. his step father was a pathetic man, one whose own accomplishments would never bring him to any amount of glory. instead, he claimed him for his own and then shoved cassian forward in the cogs of the illyrian war machine, hoping that the trickle-down from his new son. death became an ally, an easy swing of his greatsword brought down all foes and he rose through the ranks of the night court’s army with his brother, finally settling into the role of captain of the high lord’s guard. a bloodied night made a new high lady, but a lifetime of success earned with hot breath down his neck made him take advantage of the chaos, flying south until his wings could no longer: and plummeting into the seas of summer. it was another high lord who fished him out, and a life debt was one that he took seriously. service to the new lord brought him a sense of duty that was all of his own, and when he rose through the ranks in a new court: everything he claimed was his. he’s surly, but he has softened over the years– even going as far as glamouring his wings so as to not frighten those who would otherwise flinch from an illyrian.

SORIN ALSANDAIR | spring court born pirate

a young half-fae, born in the spring court as the result of a love match. he always stuck out, rebelled and was too wild for his mild-mannered family. the idea of beginning and living a life in a place ruled by peace and service; or being trapped in the farming lands of the spring court were enough for him to run away, seeking the high seas instead of the safety of his court. despite his youth, he has quickly made a name for himself in the pirating world, winning battles and waging war upon the waters. his ship is well known, as if his crew, and his loyalty belongs to himself, though it is temporarily lended to the highest bidder. he’s a troublemaker and a thief, but this is the life he has chosen for himself!

EIRAN XANTHOS | hand to the high lord of spring

no one truly knows how eiran came to be. he speaks little of his past, in truth, he speaks little in general. he’s a shapeshifter, one who becomes the form of a larger than life black panther. he has a taste for blood, and often bloodies his hands with the tasks that the unwilling or weak-willed are set to complete. his conscious is not one that he suffers from, and he owes a life debt to the high lord that he serves now. he is a dark figure with sharp teeth in the back of a room, one who terrifies most of the more warm creatures that inhabit the spring court.

BEYLA LAELITHAR | hand to the high lord of winter

there are few fae alive that are as old as the laelithar siblings. beyla is the oldest of two, and they were born a warrior and raised in the same manner. their position as hand is one that they have earned after a long life as a bloodless soldier. known for being cold and calculating, they lack recklessness and impulsivity and instead strike clean and without pity. their life has fallen into a routine of normalcy, and they enjoy the peace that it brings– the high lord that they serve is one that they don’t respect but can influence easily into making choices that they see as the best for their court.

VALERIA FIARAC | winter court soldier ( tw: physical abuse )

illyrian-born, valeria is the youngest daughter in a family of three boys. she was raised in the camps in the mountains, never knowing warmth and never reaching for it– she grew hard in the long nights and bore her teeth like her siblings did at the fierce things that roamed in the dark. it was when she was old enough to ask to fight that her father punished her for having spirit, shuttering her away. too clever to be kept locked behind a door, she would sneak away to train. it happened once, and her father beat her. it happened twice and she wasn’t able to sit for a week. it happened thrice and he took a hammer to the wings that spanned from her spine, destroying the delicate bones until there was no hope for them to fuse back correctly, and the dream of ever taking flight again broke with them. she ran that night, bloodied and weeping, leaving crimson trails in fresh snow. she ran through the night court, in the cold and unwelcoming land until she reached a place just as cold, but far enough that she allowed the ice to seep into her bones and draw her to rest. it was iskra that found her, that mended what remained and taught her that if she was not to fly again, she would learn to run and to fight. she’s the second to the winter army’s war general now, the first of her pack of wolves and there is none with more ferocity than valeria. trauma follows her but she conceals it with glassy-eyed anger: her wings are often on display, broken and dragging, to show men what they had done to her and to shame them for it.

IMOGENE DESJARDINS | princess of spring court 

of the courts nobles, spring houses the youngest. not even a century old, imogene is the very picture of wide-eyed naivety. she is gentle, and curious– with a talent for growing and speaking with animals. her kindness is often regarded as a weakness, but she is careful with how she treads through the world. there is much that imogene does not know, or has not yet seen, but she trusts her brother in his leadership completely, knowing that he would ensure a brighter and bolder future for that of herself and their court. currently, she is engaged to a prince of the mortal lands, a betrothal that she did not find herself opposed to despite not knowing him very well at all. 

LUCELIA BARAZE | hand to the mortal court, princess of the mortal lands

despite being twins, lucelia and lucerys could not have been raised more different. lucelia craved the adventure and wilds, but instead was thrust into lessons on homemaking and entertainment, while her brother learned to be a king. he cared little for it while she craved power desperately, and their father ignored her pleas and their mother punished her for her ambition. when she was older the desire diminished slightly, quieting when she found contentment in a marriage to a highranking noble and had her children: twin boys named valdemar & amory, then her daughter romina. it was while she was pregnant with romina that her husband died– lost at sea after an alleged attack from fae pirates. bitterness grew as she prepared her boys for a future rule that belonged to her brother, and her own future grew in uncertainty. she’s cruel when she has to be, and holds a deep distrust for fae.

SYLVIENNE CAISEAL | day court, assistant to the master of coin

It is in the aftermath of war, in the wisps of smoke and in the heart of what was left: Sylvienne was born into the court of spring. She’d always had a streak of shadow within her, ribboning through to remind her of the rubble that she had rose from: that her home was built on land that could just as easily be taken away. At first it shows as something wicked, a penchant for thievery and sly words to get her way— then as she grows into an adult, into someone undeniable, it grows darker and cruel: into a promise that she will rise above her station. She does, in her own ways. The dusty paths of her village are rebuilt into the grandeur that they once were, but it is only completed when she is long gone. She finds her way to the castle of light, the spires of which kiss the sky and falls into the service of a fae just as crooked as herself. He allows her liberties, and for it, she offers the Master of Coin all of which she knows.

HALEH KURTARAN | maid in the castle of the high lord of spring

Half-fae, she was born twisted between worlds. Haleh’s mother pulled her away to the mortal lands, and she was raised in the court of kings— she served there, a girl with purpose and station: but it was her pointed ears and keen gaze that set her apart. She was reminded of her status often, that she was lesser for the muddied blood that she bore, that she would never fit in with the people for whom she bowed before. It was the prince that was her only solace, a friend, then a lover. It was doomed, for her heart to beat for a man whose life would bring him to a station she dare not touch and when she was old enough to do so, she stole away to the Spring Court, the home of her father. It was there that she nurtured her heart ache and gave Luceryn his freedom. She found her place easily, slipping into the court of Spring in service to the high lord’s family. It is the spymaster that she has been assigned to, a surly and unyielding fae of whom she tends to dutifully: though she is forever uncertain of her place and belonging within both courts that she has lived.

#directory.