#can’t have a harvest festival without a bonfire

[mollywog]

*ding dong*

Trick or treat!

🎃👻🧛‍♂️🦇🧙‍♀️🕷💀😈

Welcome!!

Have some candy:

🍬🍫🍭

And as an added treat..

I’ve been thinking about the Werewolf AU ask you sent before and here’s the start of a one shot inspired by your ask!

(I can add to it in other trick or treat answers (if anyone’s interested!))

He’s too close to the festivities: he knows this, but he can’t keep away, prowling the perimeter of the grounds in hopes of catching a glimpse of her. He knows she’s near, can’t miss her scent even mingled with the overwhelming smells of bonfire and fried dough

Of course she’s here. It was only a matter of time before she realized she could do better than his sorry hide.

A whine escapes him unbidden. Get it together, he thinks to himself.

He’d like to know whose brilliant idea it was to hold the Harvestfest on a full moon. Likely the work of the local coven in an attempt to ferret out his likes. They’d been able to share Panem without incident for seventy four odd years, but recently the peace had begun to unravel; tensions were rising and it was only a matter of time before the witches and werewolves were in all out war.

He knows he should care more about the mounting conflict, but right now he can’t stop thinking about the state of his relationship with Katniss.

When he’d explained that couldn’t escort her to the harvestfest this year, their first as a couple, rather than the disappointment he’d expected, her eyes had betrayed only relief. She’d said she wasn’t able to attend either, a family obligation, she’d said, but he could tell that wasn’t exactly the truth.

She’d unconvincingly confirmed the bogus story just hours earlier when he’d spoken to her before sunset. But she’s here. His nose never fails… not that he could ever confront her about it:

I know you lied and were at the Harvest Fest, I could smell you. - he’d sound like a creep, or worse: like the mutt that he is.

He lowers his snout to the earth in an attempt to drown out the scent of honeysuckle and betrayal when his ears perk at the sound of a blood curdling scream…

[flightofaqrow]

costumes

qrow + Summer Rose ( @scatterose​ )

“i don’t like the look of this.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Oh come on, Qrow! Tomorrow’s Halloween! I got us team matching costumes!”

“Here’s yours! You’re the scarecrow and I’ll be be the farm girl with the ruby slippers. You think Raven would wear these lion ears?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

yep. yep. that was the look of Summer Rose with a team building exercise.

although, as she reveals what she’d been hiding behind her back, he’s gotta say, it isn’t the worst thing he anticipated.

Halloween.

oddly enough, not something the tribe celebrated, but they had close approximations for the season - fancy dress and nightfall rituals. nothing with the - what was the phrase - pop culture costumes like this.

he’s actually kind of excited. treats, bonfires, and dressing up like fankids of certain things?? count him in! nerd. (although, he really wanted to be a reaper man. guess that didn’t fit into a team theme as much. he can’t say he minds that thought either.)

long fingers accept the patched up burlap thing Summer hoists at him, and he twists it around a few times, huffing in spite of both of them. scare-qrow. har har.

it did feel very harvest festival, though. familiar. appropriate.

the scarecrow with a scythe out in the field protecting the farmgirl. “yeah, alright,” he grins and drapes the garment over the edge of his bed, “not the biggest fan’a th’t hat though.”

Summer holds up the ears next. cute. he tries to picture it. he scrunches his lips into a tilt, thinking they might get buried in Raven’s mane of hair, “mebbe. probl’y look better on Tai, though, dontcha think?”

he barges in next to her, complete disregard for personal space, rummaging around now. “wha’s th’ fourth one?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Woah! Woah! Woah! He’s way to close!

Summer’s face warms from the sudden intrusion of her personal space and she leans away from him, trying not to draw attention to her obvious discomfort. Qrow towers in size over someone like Summer and has no idea how intimidating his height can be. In fact, Raven and Qrow can be quite odd sometimes, both lacking in social cues and social interactions. Summer and Tai have begun to notice.

It can get confusing with the twins. They don’t like anyone to touch them. but they sure do invade Summer’s and Tai’s personal space a lot, not knowing that intimacy can be embarrassing. Perhaps, it’s a sign of trust? Nobody gets this close without an arm being twisted.

“Ah! Maybe you’re right! The yellow lion ears should go to Tai!” Summer moves away to look through another party bag. For now, she lets it go and moves on with other costumes she bought.

“I have a witch’s hat! I think the wicked witch might suit Raven better, don’t you think?” Summer giggles as she shows the hat to Qrow. “Oh! I even have dog ears! Do you want to be my Toto instead?”

Summer takes out the grey dog ears and fake tail.

“Here, put them on! Let’s see!” Summer laughs.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(a sign of trust, indeed. qrow would not show his back to just anyone around here. especially not without Raven in the room to protect it. he must believe, even if subconsciously, that Summer would too. and maybe that’s why his arm remains untwisted. he appreciates it, unknowingly.)

qrow’s guard drops enough in this moment to let Summer’s excitement continue to infect him. he snickers, deep and genuine, “y’know i was about t’say she’d make a better wicked witch.” but he didn’t know if that was part of the set, “she’s always liked stuff with skirts, too.” freedom of movement if she’d have to fight. hadn’t Summer also said something like that at some point? after having worn one he kinda gets it.

Toto - some sort of canine apparently? qrow doesn’t like the sound of as much. he can already hear the command in her voice, ah, and there it is, sounded as she stuffs the next set of accessories in his direction.

still, this all remains in the dorm, not like he’s agreeing to wear the things out in public. her laughter continues to bleed into his own lightening voice.

“alright, alright…” he settles the ears onto his head with a ruffle of his hair, and the tail at the end of his spine with a shake of his hips. he found himself wishing that if he had to have a tail, that it were longer than this little wiry stub. he doesn’t dare voice that to Summer, or that’s probably exactly what he’d be getting for the winter holidays.

(curious, too, for him to consider a future with someone still around and still caring enough to get him gifts).

qrow stands ready for Summer’s appraisal with his arms out.

“i can’t b’lieve this,” he mutters. he’s still laughing.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Honestly, Summer didn’t think Qrow would take a liking to the dog ears and tail and to her surprise, he puts them on without complaint and Summer’s mouth drops open.

“Oh my Brothers!” Summer gushes and she covers her mouth with her hands.

“You look so cute, Qrow!”

The black ears blend almost naturally into his dark hair and Summer laughs bubbly, not at him, never at him, but she laughs joyously at how Qrow is finally opening up and behaving more friendly.

“Here, hold your hands up like this so it looks like little paws! Awwwwwwww!”

Summer laughs out as she holds her stomach, almost wheezing and running out of breath.

“We should change your name to canine, but spell it with a K!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

he sees it this time. cute she calls him. but not as cute as Summer with blooming cheeks and a laugh like she hasn’t seen and done the things qrow has at late 17. someone calling him cute in the tribe would surely be condescending, but he doesn’t get that from her. she’s just happy.

he doesn’t think about it too hard. only continues to chuckle warmly and let her guide him, paw-hands and all. he’s already wearing a ridiculous costume. might as well go full rag-doll.

“pfft,” he laugh-scoffs. “but Kanine doesn’ sound cool.” scare-qrow he can run with, but qrow’s not a dog. so says his brain, even with ears covering it.

he gives her one last good look once she recovers from her giggle fit, but he fully plans on changing back into the scarecrow if anything at all.

those laughing eyes suddenly become sharp, “this doesn’t leave th’room y’know.”

[ginger375]

LUtober

See the full collection on AO3.

Day 27: Bonfire

Hateno decided to hold a harvest festival once the Calamity was finally defeated. The first festival was a tiny affair; just the townsfolk gathering near the communal cooking pots and setting up a decent sized bonfire. People brought out baked goods and snacks to share, and a few others played some music.

Wild had attended with Zelda that year, it was her first real outing with other people and was the perfect sized crowd for a woman that had been locked away with a monster for a century. Wild had baked apple tarts, which were a huge hit amongst the townsfolk.

Then word had gotten out to the rest of Hyrule.

The second year saw more Hylians showing up, coming along in wagons with food and other wares to sell or trade. Some came from Lurelin with salted fish that would keep well over the winter, while others came from Kakariko with vegetables that would do the same. They set up along the main road and Hateno residents were thrilled to share their own harvests with their neighbours.

Zelda was much more at ease that year, Wild had been pleased to see. She even dragged him up for a dance or two around the bonfire, which lightened his heart as he spun and laughed with her.

“Thought you said this was a small festival, cub?”

And now, here he was with his brothers, where he warned them it was just a small event, only to see it had taken over the entire town.

“It used to be,” was all Wild could say to answer Twilight as he stood at the town gate, mouth hanging open in awe.

“This is so cool!” Wind exclaimed. Lanterns lined the street over stalls featuring everything Hyrule had to offer – Rito were there with down quilts and warm winter clothes; Gerudo had handmade jewelry and clothes; Gorons saw the opportunity to sell raw gems; Zora had ornaments carved from luminous stones; Hylians and Sheikah took care of the food.

“Let’s go drop our stuff off at home first,” Wild said as he led the group past the first few stalls. “Then you can all go nuts.”

“It all smells so good,” Sky said as he drifted towards a stall selling pumpkin pies. Warriors pulled him back to the group before he went too far.

Upon crossing the bridge leading to his house, Wild could tell Zelda wasn’t home. The lamps were out, but still warm, so she couldn’t be too far. Wild walked through the house, seeing if there were any clues to her whereabouts. So wrapped up in his search, he missed everyone dropping their stuff and running back out the door.

Twilight put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go find her, yeah?”

Upon getting down to the main thoroughfare the size of the festival was even more prevalent. Wild was stunned at the number of people.

“Any idea where she might be?” Twilight asked, looking at a table with bags of honey roasted chickaloo nuts.

“If I know her, she’s probably at the bonfire,” Wild said as he bought one for each of them. They continued up the street, munching their treat and taking peeks at the wares on display.

The closer they got to the bonfire, the easier it was to hear the music. And not just a couple random instruments; there was a full band this year and people were taking the opportunity to let loose and dance.

Wild looked around but couldn’t see any sign of Zelda. Maybe he was wrong and she wasn’t at the festival? Maybe the crowd was too much for her and she was hiding out at the lab up the hill? He thought perhaps he should head up the hill and check.

That is until he heard a voice scream “LINK!” The next thing Wild knew a body was running into him with enough force to knock him to the ground. Fortunately, he managed to save his bag of nuts from spilling.

“Where have you been?! You’ve been gone for months and I thought I’d have to dance alone tonight but now you’re here!” Zelda cried into his shoulder. He hugged her back and looked up to see Twilight trying not to laugh out loud but failing miserably.

“I’ll tell you everything once you let me up,” Wild laughed as Zelda climbed off him. He got up first and helped her to her feet, which swayed a bit once she was up. “Have you been drinking?”

“Pumpkin ale! It is delightful, you should have some!” she declared before turning to Twilight. “Who’re you?”

“I-I’m, uh… you see...” Twilight stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. Zelda walked right up into his personal space, looking up into his eyes as if he held the answers to the universe.

“Oh my word,” Zelda breathed as realization dawned on her face. “Are you really?”

“Uh, yes ma'am,” he said quietly.

Wild wrapped an arm around Zelda’s shoulders. “Leave him be for now, Zel. You can pick his brain later,” he leaned in to whisper in her ear, “along with the others.”

“There’s more?” she questioned as Wild nodded. “Alright, dance now, questions later. Let’s go!” She yanked Wild off to dance with her around the bonfire.

Twilight smiled fondly and shook his head. Their little group was in for a barrage of questions from the inquisitive princess, but for now, he deserved a pumpkin ale.

[tomtenadia]

For the love of a kingdom - 8

Happy new year everyone. As promised, the Samhain chapter is here and I hope you will enjoy. It’s quite juicy. For the festival I used the four Celtic festivals: Imbold, Lughnasad, Beltaine and Samhain.

I also used the TOG wiki for the gods in the universe: https://throneofglass.fandom.com/wiki/Gods_and_Goddesses we all know Mama and Silba but I used Lumas too.

Enjoy the chapter.

Samhain was upon them. The ancient festival marked the beginning of winter and the end of the harvest season. It was also the day in which the veil between the netherworld and the one of the living was thinner and people would visit their beloved now parted and deposited offerings on their graves in the hope to see them one more time. 

Terrasen’s season were divided by four ancient festivals Imbolc, marking the beginning of spring, Beltaine, when summer finally restarted and it was celebrated with bonfires and it was a day in which many unions were celebrated as well. It was believed that on the day that the Earth was re awakening from the cold dark months and life began again it was a positive blessing for couples.

Lughnasadh was the observed to mark the beginning of the harvest season.  Offerings would be made to the ancient gods at the old temple in order to ask for a blessing on the harvest. 

The festivals were widely observed and steeped in the land’s traditions.

In addition to the four main festivals, Terrasen would also observe the winter solstice. In more peaceful time it would see the town all decorated and stalls with food vendors and small markets appear all over Orynth. Since the war though, the celebrations for the solstice had been very limited.

*

Aelin was in her room and was getting dressed under Lysandra’s supervision.

“Aedion is really not happy about you going to the temple. He has all the Bane deployed to escort you.”

Aelin rolled her eyes as she turned so that Lys could tie her corset. She was wearing a gown of deep purple velvet. Elide had been bummed when Aelin had told her she was going to use one of her old gowns, but her ruling on cutting on luxuries applied to her as well and the queen could do without a new gown. The fabric saved could be used for Elide and Lys to provide clothes to her people to face the harsh winters. She did not need a new gown. She had a closet full of them.

“I am not joking, he is worried. He says the people are getting restless and he fears they might attempt something tonight.”

“I can’t enter the temple with a legion of warriors. He needs to stay outside with all of them. I will not have him disrespect the gods.”

“Aelin, he is worried.”

“If I die he gets the throne and you become queen consort.”

Lysandra tightened the corset a bit too much and Aelin yelped “do not joke about that. It’s not funny.”

Aelin shrugged and Lysandra worried. Her friend seemed to have lost any fight in her. As if she had accepted that the rebels were going to kill her and she was not going to do anything about that. It worried her. Something was going on with Aelin but the queen it seemed had stopped talking to her.

“I mean… dying on Samhain…” joked Aelin but Lysandra did not appreciate the joke and with a brisk tug she turned her friend around “what is wrong with you?”

“Do you think the rebels have a money prize for my death?”

Lysandra pushed her away “you are ready,” and walked to grab her son from the crib. Little Aidan cooed at her mother’s presence then extended his arms to Aelin but the queen did not notice the little boy. Her stare was outside and it seemed like she was scanning the sky searching for something. Or someone.

“Aelin?”

She slowly turned her head and saw her friend looking at her with a concerned stare “I will be fine.” She said with no emotion in her voice, then gathered her skirts and walked to the door “stay here at the castle. If what your husband fears comes true I do not want you around the temple. You and Elide both.”

“Aelin,” the dark-haired woman tried to protest but the queen’s blue eyes landed on her “that’s an order from your queen. You three stay here safe.” And with that she left the room looking for Aedion and her guards to take her up to the temple.

*

Aedion met her down in the courtyard with half of the Bane at his side.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit too much?” She complained seeing his best and biggest men all clad in armours and with sword at their belts.

“Not when it come to protecting you.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes.

Surrounded by the fiercest set of warriors, she proceeded towards the main gates. Aedion gestured to the sentinels to open them and slowly they trailed outside taking the path through the town and then uphill to the temple. The streets were half empty but some people had ventured out to watch their queen parade through the streets. A few kids had run to her but her guards stopped and it broke Aelin’s heart. She sighed and kept walking. A few people waved at her and she waved back. 

The rest of the walk had been calm but as soon as she arrived at the top of the hill she was met with a big crowd of people.

Aedion ordered the guards to tighten their formation around her. 

Aelin kept walking and in the distance she could hear the screams of protest from the people.

They accused her to be the cause of the death of all the people she was now paying her respects to. They called her the monster queen. The ruthless ruler. Some of them wished her to burn in her own flames. Another voice shouted that she should have died in Endovier, the only place where she deserved to be.

Aelin continued her walk along the path, head up high pushing down the pain that those words were causing.

Aedion moved closer to her but she ignored him. 

Maybe  they were right and she should have died in Endovier. It would have been easier for everyone instead of being this huge disappointment. Her parents were probably looking down at her and being angry at the way she had ruined their kingdom.

Once at the top of the hill and in front of the temple, Aedion was reluctant to let her go, but her cousin knew her wishes. Warrior were not welcome in a temple. She looked up at the sky and noticed a white tailed hawk circling the temple, and she knew who that was. For reasons she could not understand she had felt relieved at the idea that he was there, looking out for her.

Aelin took a step into the temple and the protest grew. Behind her she could hear the Bane keeping the people away.

She took the final steps and kneeled in front of the statue of the ancient gods and bowed to the effigy of Lumas. He was the god of love and she asked him to help bring back peace and union in Terrasen.

She slowly bowed to all the other gods and finally she stopped in front of Mala. Her dad alway told her that she was Mala’s heir and that her powers descended from the goddess herself.

Once she prayed to the goddess of light, she prayed for all the souls that had been lost. She stood in slow motion and in that instant she felt a piercing pain in her left shoulder. 

And the queen collapsed on the temple’s floor.

*

Rowan, worried by Elide’s words, had not been able to chase away his worries. He had tried to ignore it but after having spent an hour pacing in his cottage he had decided to give up. 

He left the house and took to the skies. In his hawk form he circled the temple area and what he saw worried him. People were gathered to protest against her. The Bane were forming a barricade to protect the queen but the mob had started pushing. He was afraid they were going to break through and attack Aelin. He circled the temple and saw her kneel in front of the gods. Why was she alone? Why Aedion was not at her side? He felt rage at the lack of protection for his cousin. So he kept an eye on her while she prayed. Then he saw her stand and in that instant the mob exploded and attacked the Bane. And then he felt it. A piercing pain in his left shoulder. For a moment he thought he had been shot but when he saw no damage he realised the pain did not come from him.

In an instant he transformed in his fae form and ran for Aelin’a body who was now bleeding on the stones of the temple. The bane were too busy to stop the crowd to notice him. He grabbed Aelin in his arms and ran back as quickly as possible to his cottage following all the narrow alleys away from the main street.

The walk back to the cottage had seemed endless. Luckily the streets had been empty. Winter had started to set in and the air had turned cold. If he was spotted with a bleeding queen in his arms he would have some explaining to do and a possible trip back to the dungeons. Once indoors he gently deposited her on his bed and went to gather what he needed. He had some healing powers and knew how to treat some wounds. His past as a soldier had thought him how to deal both with sword and arrows injuries.

Rowan placed Aelin belly down and examined the arrow. Its head was deep inside but hopefully not too deep to have damaged anything vital. Gently he ripped the gown from her back to expose the wound until she was left only in the band around her breasts. At the discovery in front of him he froze. Scars, her back was a mosaic of crisscrossed scars that could have only come from whip lashings. With his fingers he brushed the now healed skin gently and anger rose in him. Somehow he had desired to inflict that punishment on whoever did this to her. Then a word popped in his mind: Endovier. It was rumoured that the queen had offered herself to Adarlan in a promise to stop the war and that she was sent to the salt mines as a slave. He had thought it was just a rumour. He had not believed the stories. But those scars did not lie.

He shook his head and went back to the task at hand. Quickly he ran to his closet and grabbed a pouch containing some healing herbs that would help her. He grabbed a bowl from the kitchen and started mixing them in a poultice. When the mixture was ready he slowly and carefully started to pull out the arrow. Very gently while with one hand near the wound he directed his healing power and slowed down the bleeding. Once the arrow was out he tossed it aside and covered the wound, front and back in the poultice and dressed it tightly.

He grabbed the arrow and noticed it was iron. He then smelled it and he was positive it was poisoned too.

Damn, if there was poison, he needed a healer. That was beyond his capabilities. But calling a healer was dangerous. They would recognise the queen and he’d be in trouble and probably assume he had anything to do with it.

He had to wait for the following day and find Elide again. She lived in the castle, she would probably knew the royal healer. 

Once he was done he turned the queen on her back and placed all his pillows behind her to make sure she was comfortable. Then he took a chair and sat at her side.

He stared at her in her slumber and he could not deny his first assessment. She was stunning. He brushed the hair away from her face and pulled the blanket up to her chin. 

Rowan then sat back in his chair and his hand went to his left shoulder, brushing the spot where she had been injured. He had not imagined it. He had felt the arrow going through him. It had been as sharp as if it had been real.

He looked at the sleeping woman and he knew that what he had felt the evening on the balcony when they had joined their cut hands had not been a false feeling. But how could that be? It had already been a surprise to find out that his nemesis had been his carrannam. He had started to think that the gods had decided to make fun of him and somehow punish him. But this… 

His parents, his mum especially, had told him stories about the bond of the fae. Told him that she and his dad were joined by a powerful thread between them. Rowan had never been much the romantic so he had just discarded the stories as fairytales mothers told their kids about some mythic power that would pick two random people and tie them together for eternity. 

Rowan grabbed her hand and leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. He brought her hand to his mouth and deposited a gentle kiss. In a matter of weeks his life had changed. He had made her death his goal in life and now… now he had saved her life and his chest hurt at the idea that she might die. That thought made him sick.

Rowan stared at her and prayed Silba to look after her and heal her.

Because that night, while running with Aelin in his arms he had accepted something. A word had resonated in his souls as the arrow tore through her..

A word he was terrified to utter aloud because the implications would be far too big for both. There was no future for them. She was forbidden to him.

Because Aelin was his mate.

And a terrified shudder spread through him. Then he kissed her brow and went to make some soup.

Mate.

Shit. He was in deep unending shit.

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @courtofjurdan @whimsicallyreading​ @themoonthestarsthesuriel​ @aelin-bitch-queen​ @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity​ @acreativelydifferentlove @mis-lil-red​ @thegreyj​ @sailorsassley​ @leiawritesstories​ @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire​ @sv0430​ @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon​ @rowanaelinn​ @backtobl4ck​ @susumaus98​ @hellasblessed​ @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah​ @whoever-you-choose-to-love​ @theywillnotsingforme​ @universallytreepost

[a03bkdk]

fantasy bkdk fic rec list

a certain kind of magic by eatdirt

((4590-1/1))

“Forgive me, kind witch! I—I do not wish to disturb you, but I’m afraid it's urgent!"

Katsuki will later blame his bewilderment that anyone—let alone a human boy in filthy rags—would drag themselves all the way out to his home on the outskirts of civilization, for why he stalks down the stairs and cracks open the door.

“Are you a fucking idiot?” he growls.

Or, the one where Katsuki is a witch in a weed-infested swamp and Deku won’t stop coming around.

the shrinekeeper and the harvest god by bkdkwritingsdump

((smut-30148-18/18))

Izuku keeps the shrine of the harvest god, a minor god mostly worshiped by farmers and ignored by everyone else until the yearly harvest festival. During a spring thunderstorm one year, a mysterious man named Katsuki shows up at his shrine seeking shelter from the rain, but ends up over staying his welcome by a few months. In that time, Izuku not only begins to become suspicious of his identity, but finds himself longing for something more between them.

cupid, draw back your bow by almasaga

((i dont remember if there is smut-16496-2/2))

Cupid remembers the oath he took, remembers the broken arrow, remembers the wrath of his mother and goddess, remembers his roots, remembers that he is a god.

But when he hears him he forgets it all.

“Are you there still?” Asks a voice, clear and never wrong. The only voice he wishes to hear.

“Always,” he says and it blows through his beloved.

solar by kindaopps

((smut-7037-1/1))

Here he is, a god, wanting a mortal.

deku by mirachadoodles

((smut-20852-9/9))

Neither seemed willing to look away in the tense silence that fell, drawn to one another as if by a thick and brilliant thread.

The boy viewed him thoughtfully, as though he recognized him from another life, as though he knew him.

It was odd—he felt the same way.

---

Or, shortly after Katsuki's dragon went missing, a naked man attempted to break into his family barn. Izuku had no memory of his past life, and apparently had no idea how to be human, either. He was just acting on instinct.

a cat named deku by  silentsongbird

((6662-1/1))

Bakugou begrudgingly takes in a stray cat that has been hanging around his home. He says he's motivated by the weather turning colder, but he just can't resist the little fur ball. One night, Deku decides to let him in on a little secret.

if the stars align, then for us they were meant by runawaydeviant

((smut-17485-6/6))

Katsuki and Eijirou crash land in a forest to the south of their homeland. Injured and stranded, they befriend a local nature spirit, who is much more than he first appears to be.

soulmates in steel and (p 2)mine is yours by lalazee

((3000-1/1)) (p 2(smut-2509-1/1))

Midoriya Izuku returns to a tribe long lost and forgotten to claim his rightful throne. At least, that's what King Katsuki assumes of him.

(p 2) One large, calloused hand spread sparks down Izuku’s chest, ribs, rested at his lightly bruised hip. Izuku knew fingerprints still remained from last time, and the last, and the time after that. He felt more like a dappled deer now, all those spots smattered across his thighs, ass, hips, wrists. King Katsuki was certainly a man who marked his territory.

but the entrails are the best part! by supercrunch

((15278-1/1))

The boy straightens up. He’s about half a head shorter than Katsuki, face soft and youthful and sweet. He turns to look at him properly. His dark hair shines in the dying light, basket of blooms looped over one arm and mouth quirked into a tiny half-smile. The sun hits his face and makes his eyes a bright greeny-gold, just like emeralds.

Katsuki likes emeralds.

“Pretty,” he says, reaching out and picking the stranger up around the middle. He’s surprisingly heavy, although Katsuki doesn’t mind. “I like you. Come see my nest.”

The boy hits him.

He’s stronger than he looks, turns out. Katsuki drops him and falls onto his back, pain blooming across his face. Birds sing. The sky’s a lovely shade of orange, clouds floating lazily by. The boy scarpers. He leaves his basket of flowers behind, footsteps thumping on the ground and fading away as he escapes.

The sun sets. Katsuki, lying flat on his back with a bloody nose, decides he’s just fallen in love.

happenstance by merrywetherweather

((78566-22/22))

When Katsuki was just a child, his mother, the King of Lucia, took him to enact diplomacy with the Midoriya's, the royal family of the neighboring country of Tayloria. After that day, his fate was sealed, his marriage arranged to the Midoriya's elusive omegan child.

At the age of twenty, he leaves for Tayloria again, this time, to finally wed his fiance and cement the allyship of the two kingdoms indefinitely. Only, his fiance turns out to be the child he had met on his very first visit, a naive, idealistic young prince who wants nothing to do with marrying the prince of Lucia.

Good thing he just assumed Katsuki was only part of his fiance's entourage.

An arranged marriage between two princes aob au where Katsuki tries to abide by Izuku's desire for a natural romance to develop without letting Izuku know his true identity.

plums by Ivillpunchyouinthethroat

((14116-3/3))

There’s a boy stealing plums from the garden below the balcony Katsuki’s lounging at for the night.

Correction.

There’s a boy stealing plums, very badly, from the garden below the balcony Katsuki’s lounging at for the night.

mermaid AU breathe In by contrarybee

((series-smut-3 works-45236 in all))

Midoryia Izuku was born in captivity. He's never known the ocean.

His human carer Yagi-san tells him they're getting a new merman in the aquarium, one that they hope Izuku might like. Having been alone since his mother's death, Izuku is beyond excited to have a new mer around, but Bakugo Katsuki might prove to be too much. Or maybe he's just right.

fishy by warschach

((smut-19417-1/1))

Izuku’s convinced his hot co-worker/neighbor, Katsuki, is a mermaid-or merman- you gotta consider genders even with mythical creatures- and plans to prove it.

(or this is kinda like the show ‘Monster Quest’, except Izuku actually finds said monster, falls in love, and have sexy times.)

home is where the waves crash. by tiredwrites

((4105-1/1))

Izuku thrashes in his cage, the fins that line his large tail flare with a dangerous purpose. The claws his fingers taper into slice through the water and catch the light that filters into the clear water of the aquarium tank he's in.

His gills flare in irritation as he flips around, muscled tail ramming into the three-inch glass barrier with a thundering BAM!

Bioluminescent sacs under clear scales flare and glow, flashing a brilliant toxic green. The team that had brought the merman into the tank watch the mer flail and roar, flexing the powerful jaws that can often unhinge, like a snake.

only the roses know by katyastark

((13193-5/5))

Izuku didn’t want to marry a foreigner. The person he wanted was here… somewhere. He didn’t have a face or a name to ascribe to his admirer. Only roses. For every name day and holiday since he was thirteen, he had received a perfect orange rose. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. The roses never failed to make him feel doted upon. It was their secret, and Izuku cherished it more than anything else in the world. He didn’t want to give that up for some stranger, for an alliance through a loveless marriage.

torn fur, blunt teeth by scribespirare

((smut-43013-17/17))

After eight months of being collared, Izuku is finally free. But a dark, stormy city is no place for a lonely shapeshifter on the run.

ignorance leads to bliss by nikawithspice

((smut-3941-1/1))

A brave wandering adventurer swoops in and saves a beautiful prince from danger, gets dragged to a celebratory bonfire and has a night that he could only have dreamed of!

Or, the one in which Midoriya Izuku accidentally gets married to a Dragon Prince but wouldn't have it any other way.

[dark-woods]

January Requiem

*Written January 2020 Under The Name; Seasons In Braken* It’s cold.  Not freezing yet.

The snow won’t come until deep winter, for now it is steady rain.

Cold rain.

Everyday we chase the heels of winter, caught in late fall, waiting, anticipating, but we only run as fast as time flies.

The lot of us gather around the stand, begging to eat, to fill us on this empty day.

I hold the bar in my hands. Thin, flaky crust encircles a tart mash of fruit.  It’s been too long for it to keep its homemade charm, now only a product of metal and plastic.  The fruits here are so different. In the fall a rainbow of apples and honey-sour pears fill the isles of the harvest festival. We laugh as we fill our cups with warm cider over and over again.

It burns the tongue, and tastes like spice, but it is a tradition here.

In the winter nothing grows, even the pine trees look bare.

But in spring the berries fill the forest. Salmonberries, blueberries, huckleberries, boisonberries, lingonberries, they are everywhere.  You can walk through the the woods to any hidden grove, and fill your hands with sweet goodness until they stain.

In the tangle of the thicket bracken the blackberries and raspberries grow.

 The thorns cut and bite, but you bite back, and sit by a swampy pond, watching the light fall through the leaves.

In the summer it is hot enough to free yourself.

You can run circles in a creamy sundress, wildflowers set in sun kissed hair.

The fruit is strawberries. They grow on the mountainside. It isn’t even cold up there, just damp and dim, and green.

The flowers are gone from the plants by August, and the buds long, long, gone, turned to bushy bundles with green, green, leaves.

Strawberry lemonade and honeydew on the table. The watermelon isn’t from here, nor the peaches and the sun.

It’s all borrowed, temporary.  It’s not so bad where it’s warm.

Humid, sticky air in the summer. Mosquitos everywhere.

The rest of the year you can dream about snow, but it won’t come close.

In the last week of May it pours down there I’ve heard.

Here it rains for days upon end.

Soaking the cold into the bone, until you’re numb and your eyes can’t close.

Down there it rains hard as knives for ten minutes, and then it’s done, dried up by the hour.

Here the puddles overstay their welcome, even in the hot of July, when fire licks the air, the mud still stays.

Stupid mud.

In the warm lands they fear September. When for one month the wind roars, and they cower.

They whisper of the geese. That when the birds fly south they bring the wind on their wings, cold wind.

And when they land and the cold meets warm, they scream.

The wind starts out a useless tumbleweed, and then a swirling dust. Then it flies across the dusty plains, blowing everything away. The geese bring a storm of dry thunder, rainless lightning. Silent summer turns to fearful fall.

They say those folks are real superstitious, afraid. Always.

They start at a black cat, a piece of the night come to drink the day.

And broken mirrors, because they can’t live without their vanity, those selfish people.  I’ve never seen a mirror.  And here I am hidden in these cold hills.

We all are.

But we have so much more to fear.

A sea that walks on land.

An earth that refuses to sleep.

A mountain the cries fire and ash, choking up flame as we sleep.

And sleep.

Sleep is harder here.

At the ocean I lie in the sand, and drift off to the waves in the cold, dark sea.

But not here, in these lost hills, these forgotten valleys, so north, so dark, so cold, cold, cold.

My skin turns paper white, and my eyes ice blue. I can’t move, I’m trapped, and anything warm stings to touch.  I am awake.

No thoughts in my head, no light in my eyes.

Staring out the window at the round, white moon.

I feel like a star you cannot see in the sky, and so none of us can sleep.

Not here, where in wind and the rain is our blood, and the salty, briny sea, our inky black tears.

It hurts to much to cry when we are coated in our regrets and each sudden movement makes my heart stop.

On the solstices I remember celebration.  Winter.

Yule.

December.

Cold.

I can never say cold enough.

But now a bonfire burns through the bare bone grey of winter.

We wear coats as thick as bear’s fur.  Our hair is silver, and braided thin, thin, thin.

The songs I learn on this day make me shiver.

Old, ancient songs for the moon and the warriors that lived so long ago.

Of fjords full of ice and mountains full of snow.

Of the owls and the wolves, and cold, cold, nights.

In the summer the solstice does not make me lie awake in the same way of winter.  Instead, I don a lacey white dress, nothing underneath but slim skin and bare feet.

My hair is honey gold, and loose, crowned with a wreath of roses and tulips.

Yellow and pink.

It is just my sisters now.

Not my kin, but girls I share my blood with.

We dance in golden woods.

The gloaming calls us, and a fire burns everywhere.  The stars are bright, and we do wild things.

That is what keeps me awake.  But it is summer, and we are in love.

In love together, and with the moon and the woods, and the flowers on the mossy ground.

This is season.

And feeling.

Emotion.

Cold.

Hot.

Gold.

Silver.

The contrasts of life.

And I remember them all

[lorei-writes]

The song about Princess and The Fox

Mitsuhide x MC Fantasy AU This work includes suggestive content.

Summary: A short story of lovers - the Princess and the loyal servant to her house.

It’s very different compared to what I usually write. But well, it happened :) (Why is it that whenever I’m writing with Mitsuhide in mind, something funny happens??)  I wanted to include audio file as well, buuut... I can’t read. I gave up after an hour. I really can’t. It’s too hard. 

It was also written as my contribution to @templeofthesilverkitsune :D

Content warnings: none

She had a servant she barely knew – „a man of duty”, her father claimed. An advisor to her house, he was, this silver-haired man. Though young and of sharp mind, he never spoke a word, his smile thinner than a tip of a rose thorn. Yet all she could think of were the golden eyes, the secret kindness she saw at times.

At gloomy nights and on bright days, he was a mystery to her. Be it breakfast or while the supper would still last, he'd stand by elders' chairs – and sometimes, even if sometimes, she'd catch him glance her way. Challenged or allured – I am not the one to say – she came up with a plan, to understand the fox man.

She went into the garden, her father's entourage all dining there. Her parents were seemingly waiting for her as well. „ My daughter, what brings you to this place?” „ I lost my golden hairpin and came looking for some help.”

Without a doubtful thought, he lent her his men – and so, she got the Fox to walk side by side with her. She trilled and she chirped, as he wrote her notes – malice and mischief, those must have been in his oaths. Lovably spiteful, he teased her a lot, of her company he seemingly was fond.

The hairpin reclaimed, she felt so alone... The cheeky smile and pouty lips, the silver hair, the words of wits – all very dear, stayed with her long, the absence of source erasing all joy. Her heart beating faster, she went ahead, another sorrow troubling her head. Bothered and lost, she ventured out, silver moonlight dancing through her gown.

She came around, to see his face, yet her lungs spoke by themselves: „ Sir, your name I must ask for...” He shook his head, but seeing her blush, did mouth the sounds she craved to find. „Mi” - „tsu” - „hi”- „de”, he was – indeed, he was.

Somewhat confused, but oddly elated, she came back, her heart all in shambles. Sudden emotion, a curse of sorts, guiding her through the days to come. To be near and to be seen, two of the things she'd wished to be – yet hardly had known, not only she, was hoping for these. „Princess”, a dreadful word, indeed.

The weeks had passed and she got closer, the half-everythings causing her to wonder. Love or  loyalty, which one was that? Half-touches, half-words, half-glances – half-alive.

Mostly convinced, yet somewhat unsure, she snuck out to meet him, to taste the truth. Moon hanging high, wind played in her hair, the stars shining bright – not brighter than her. Her robe too thin, the frost licked her skin, painting it over with bloom from within. Clutching her chest, she banged on his door, the need to know warmer than snow.

The hinges creaked, as it moved back, the yellow flames replacing the black. Very confused and puzzled no less, he rushed her inside, too sleepy to jest. His book in hand, he wrote her a note, asking, why would a mouse sneak into his home.

Angry-exhausted, she just looked up, her hands on his collar, pulling him down. One glance in his eyes – his lips on her lips, the caresses sweet, to banish the chill. Her hands on his body, craving for more, the heat from within igniting her whole. Her clothes on the floor, their weight on the bed, the silent moans filling the air.

She lay in his arms, the sun soon to rise, the night ending fast, light hiding the stars. She put on her robe, yet still looked back, the trouble inside hurting her bad. Gritting her teeth, she uttered the words: „ Let's run away, here there's no hope.”

Spring had begun, warm winds playing tag, defrosting both rivers and all the small towns. The days long, stretching well into nights, the couple had no time to discuss the plan. Absence of touches, of snarky remarks, had caused her to whither, a plant without light. He, however, was no better, his face just a mask of wellness, crafted by the life of sneaky endeavors.

The day came and so, they packed, soon leaving the vibrant castle behind. Through branches, and bushes, and high grass – forward, just forward, just not to leave tracks. The whinny of horses coming from all sides, they soon were surrounded, no hope to fight back.

Guilty of innocence, he pulled her closer, resting her head against his shoulder. Through leaves and branches, the light snuck in, causing the steel to gleam. Angered, protective – who knows how Fox felt? His hand hoovered over her head.

His palm to her ear, he opened his mouth – yet, the guard was the one to shout: „ Release the Princess!” But then, he spoke – the words of brass, of trumpets and storm, the terror of doom, unlike anything before. Scared for their lives, as in mortal danger, the soldiers fell down - they fainted.

The Princess and Fox... Who knows what had happened? Whatever they did... Huh

***

They sat further away from the bonfire, the people around them laughing and simply enjoying the harvest festival. The story coming to an end, she giggled. „ What do you think about it, hmm? My Fox?” His eyes narrowed, as he looked at her. „ Some parts were a bit overdone,” he gestured in response, not a single word leaving his lips.

Tag list: @datenoriko , @nad-zeta , @tsubaki3192 , @choi-jiyu , @missjudge-me ,  @ikemencrossedmyth , @briars7 If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)!^^ Also, if you have some preferences (for example: you’d rather not be tagged under some series, etc.), please, tell me. 

[murfeelee]

TS4 Werewolves - Rant Alert

I got this one comment that sent me off on a whole tangent, so I decided to reply to it separately.

slade-the-neko replied to your photoset “The Wolves:This world is slowing down How can I fight it? How can I?...”

Dang Murf, that's very impressive! Really makes me wish Sims 4 had werewolves. I'll definitely try porting the Skyrim model to TS4 if they ever add them.                    

Y’all know TS4 is my trigger -- wtF is EA even doing over there? That Tiny Living Stuff Pack was a JOKE, like....seriously? o_O For as much money as they’re swindling y’all for TS4, EA’s Sims team is creatively BANKRUPT. ZERO innovation, intuition or inspiration.

EA just takes popular concepts/crazes like the Tiny House Movement, Baby Yoda, and Harry Potter, and waters it down to the barest of minimums: tiny homes with huge AF Murphy beds instead of bunk beds or convertible futons/sofa-beds; a decorative Baby Yoda you can’t even interact with; no school of magic sims can go to (and no magic for kids YET). I’m so tired of them!

People keep comparing RoM to TS1′s Makin Magic, and I keep going WHERE? I said in my initial trailer reaction for RoM that it made zero frikkin sense for the RoM magic land to have that perma-nighttime full moon, without even bothering to have werewolves in the so-called realm of magic.

RoM would’ve been the PERFECT chance to add werewolves. What better way to have a magical pack than to also introduce werewolves as the local denizens of Glimmerbrook’s forests. Missed opportunity, EA. (－‸ლ) 

They could’ve added a werewolf household living in the woods, that your sim either befriends or gets bitten by, so your sim goes to the Magical Realm to either find a cure for lycanthropy (for the werewolves or for THEMSELVES if they’re bitten and are gonna turn in a couple days), or wolfsbane poisoning if one of the wolves is made sick by the brand new harvestable Wolfsbane *cough cough!* (Wolfsbane comes in the Vampires GP, but they could‘ve totally made more types of Wild Wolfsbane, Yellow Aconite, Purple Monkshood, etc.).

Either one would give your sim a REAL impetus and incentive to go learn magic and talk to the RoM residents and mess with potions & alchermy. Which is another reason I said (I’ve BEEN saying) I wanted HEDGE WITCHES, who could do HERBOLOGY. U_U

The RoM Game Pack NEEDED to be its own Expansion -- it wasn’t a realm at all; it was a Diagon Alley ripoff and everybody knew it. HELLO, EA! Part of worldbuilding is creating a EFFING STORY that gives your game a FRIKKIN PURPOSE. EA didn’t go the distance at all; they did the mere basics of adding magic to TS4, with a lot of style but not much substance. But ironically they did the same with the mermaids, which did get their own EP, and everyone agrees that TS4′s Island Living was worse than TS3′s Island Paradise, so wtf. (－‸ლ) 

But I doubt werewolves would get their own Game Pack like the Vampires & Spellcasters -- EA would do Faeries/Elves before wolves, I suspect, cuz faeries are in a sense easier. Wings, mushrooms & flowers, glittery magic, LOTR-esque art nouveau inspired furniture, etc -- everyone knows the standard faery.

But if TS4 werewolves got a pack all to themselves it would force EA to effing give a crap about lycan culture & lore, and the complexities of things like pack dynamics (alphas, betas, omegas, etc), moon cycles, transformations, lupine physiology & locomotion; diet & hunting (adding new flora & fauna), etc.

While heavy in gameplay expansion, with werewolf-specific abilities, interactions & animations, what other stuff could you stuff into a werewolf stuff pack? Y'all saw how in TS3 the Supernatural EP didn’t give wolves a single bloody thing other than their CAS stuff -- for build/buy mode wolves got ZILCH. We didn’t get busted furniture or shattered windows or blood splatters or more fur patterns -- NOTHING. Everything in build/buy mode was for witches & faeries--all wolves could do was tear the crap up with their claws.

And even their CAS stuff was lackluster - no hairy skins, makeup or tails, but we got body hair & face sliders, claws, fangs, etc.

I like TS1's werewolf design from Makin Magic the most, since their heads/skins looked like wolves.

TS2′s was the biggest downgrade in terms of the LOOK of werewolves, in that it was just a skin.

If EA does do wolves for TS4, I’d hope they make it so the werewolves look like effing WOLVES. At least let them turn into animals, like the ones in TS2 PETS. (WHY TF was TS2 the only time Sims had ACTUAL magical pets!? >_< TS3 has dogs! TS4 has dogs! DO IT ALREADY.)

Considering the cartoony PG13 angle EA insists on keeping TS4, I don’t imagine they’d EVER make wolves look like @camkitty2​’s amazing werewolf mod at MTS:

And certainly not the scary Skyrim werewolves that I converted.

Or even the ones from EA’s other property, Dragon Age (which are effing ugly, IMO).

(The ugly anthropomorphic bipedal version, btw, not the more wolf-like version.)

TBH, If TS4 did werewolves at all I BET YOU MONOPOLY MONEY the template EA’d use would be a lot like Bigby Wolf’s design from the Wolf Among Us video game:

Bigby goes through 4 phases, from man to gradually being an actual wolf in his 4th phase/Final Form. His 3rd phase has a face that not really wolf-like so much as Jekyll/Hyde; beastly enough that you pretty much know Oh that’s a werewolf they’re doing, without it actually looking like any animal.

It’s big and scary with muscles & claws & hair, but cartoony enough that it’s not drastically different from a regular sim. EA’s wack enough to pull something like that, rather than going the extra mile to give us the kind of Skyrim-esque werewolves many simmers want.

Or the full-shift magical WOLF that I personally want.

Don’t get me wrong; Bigby has a great design for Wolf Among Us, made by AA developers Telltale (who do The Walking Dead video games). But Electronic fArts is a AAA developer, with billion dollar budgets, massive teams & bookoo resources. But by god EA’s the laziest AAA company around; just the kind of twats to do AA level work with AAA finances, as we’ve seen in TS4 and TS3.

Bigby’s 2nd phase is basically what TS3 did for werewolves, with the scrunched up brow/nose, pointed ears, hairier face, etc.

This kind of werewolf design is fine, but it leaves A LOT to be desired, especially if it’s the only form you see in certain werewolf franchises. It reminds me too much of how Teen Wolf makes werewolves -- basically as hairier vampires from Buffy (which makes sense). But come on EA, go the distance; go FULL WOLF SHIFT or go home.

In Eastern Europe werewolves ARE vampires/witches -- they’re connected to nature magic, druids & wicca, neopaganism, etc: magic runes & symbols, stones & metals, scyring, bonfire festivals (having Celtic holidays would be so cool!), enchanted woods & nemetons & ley lines, the effect of moonlight on water #TuckEverlasting style, shamanistic sacred animal totemic power and such. Tap into that tribalistic Slavic, Norse & Celtic lore on werewolves, EA, you effing COWards!

In TS1′s Makin Magic and TS3′s Supernatural, witches and werewolves came in the same pack, and had gameplay elements tied to each other -- in TS1 it’s the Beauty & the Beast charm that magical sims can use, and in TS3 werewolves can be used as witches’ assistants to Gather harvestables/collectables used in alchemy potions. So for TS4, having werewolves in RoM would’ve made SO MUCH sense. Hell, they could’ve fit into the Vampire GP, too -- why was wolfsbane even IN that pack? o_O

So if TS4 adds werewolves, I hope they add something NEW to the lifestate, and do more research into other portrayals & iterations of werewolves.

Everyone knows about Norse Berserkers (were-bears), but less attention is given to the Wolves of Odin, the Ulfhednar/Ulfhedinn (werewolves). A lot of Nordic neopagans are into them nowadays.

A werewolf GP would make it so EA would have to flesh out werewolves -- if they live in the woods, give them woodland build/buy mode CC. Let them live OFF THE GRID as technophobic naturists, cuz electronics like tvs, PCs & radios hurt their sensitive eyes & ears. They could be more modern, sure, but it would be so much cooler to have sims who only use well water and hot springs and compost toilets and woodfire ovens.

Bring back hobbies/skills like bone/woodcarving, gem cutting, basket weaving & looms, soap/candle-making, pottery, horticulture, tree-cutting/tree-hugging, animal husbandry (could you imagine werewolf shepherds? XD), sparring, (arm) wrestling, boxing, hunting, bird watching and more. Basically: fullblown medieval-rustic hunting lodge aesthetics: animal pelts, antlers, mounted taxidermy, COME ON, EA, stop being boring!

[rcguna-archived]

Felicity intertwined her hands with his. “There's no one like you, Raguna. I adore you."

With the fall season well underway the nights came sooner than ever. Gone were the warm eves of summer and in their place came different comforts. Brisk afternoons with hot cocoa on the porch as he admired the changing colors of leaves in the distant trees. Pumpkins in the fields just about ready to be harvested for delicious pies and carved for festive decorations. And the sky? Gods it was as beautiful as ever. Constellations of stars peek through the clouds, and a crescent moon stands ready to illuminate yet another night for the farmer. And yet- perhaps the greatest comfort to Raguna, one that held true regardless of the season, was the company he currently shared with the woman standing before him.

They’d spent the evening together talking about the coming festival over hot cocoa, and their ideas for carving some of the pumpkins among other things. Raguna didn’t have the creativity to match Felicity, but he had the ability to bring her ideas to life even if she didn’t seem confident. There was a silent promise to recreate some of her ideas in a few of the pumpkins, to surprise her. And yet that wasn’t what brought about the emotion now. That perhaps came from his plans to put in extra work to make sure the fall festival was the best one yet. The pies he would bake, gathering the hay bales and other decorations to liven things up all that much more for the children. He wanted to do it for Felicity, because he knew how important Kardia was to her.

Without his gloves on he feels every touch and caress of her soft fingers as they slip through his. Like the rain finds its way to the river and then the sea, her hands seemed to know exactly how to hold onto his and let her feelings flow from there to his heart. He’s already feeling that flush in his cheeks before any words are uttered. There’s a warmth that goes beyond the cocoa that they had just shared and when she does speak it’s as if that warmth swells into a bonfire.

I adore you.

“Felicity...” He can’t help but smile, if he tried to stop the expression his face may just collapse and he’d look ridiculous. His hands close around hers, an eager acceptance of her gesture as the words repeat themselves in his head. Her voice more pleasant than the windchimes in the summer.

“I feel the same way about you.” It’s the easiest way to start the response, a direct acceptance and reciprocation of those indirect feelings. And yet the coals beneath that created the fire between them were ever obvious. It was hard to deny and really, he didn’t want to anymore. Not that he ever wanted to, no, ah, to think he’d actually been worried before that he was being presumptuous. To hear this from Felicity now, after all this time-

“When I first came to Kardia those years ago I was lost and alone. I didn’t know who I was or where I came from. But I was always so grateful that everyone was as kind and welcoming as they were. I felt like I had a place to stay, and that I was welcome here despite being such a unique stranger. But the person who really made Kardia feel like home to me, was you. Even with your illness you had so much heart and determination to be the best person you could be. You were the kindest, the warmest, and one of the smartest people I had the fortune to meet. It was after I got to know you, and... came to fall for you, that I realized I didn’t need to learn about my past. That I could let go of those worries. Because... I cared more about wanting to have a future with you. You see, I guess what I mean to say is that I more than adore you, Felicity-”

“I love you.”

[fayegracexo]

How to Celebrate Lughnasadh

Somehow we are already to our first of three harvest festivals in the wheel of 2019! This year is flying by crazy quick! I can’t believe July is already over and it’s time for Lughnasadh on August 1st! (Fun Fact: The Gaelic word for August is ‘Lunasa’ - Lughnasadh is pronounced Loo-Na-Sah!)

If you happened to catch my last post (if you didn’t, click here! ‘Lughnasadh vs. Lammas’) then you already know the difference between ‘Lughnasadh’ and ‘Lammas’, and some of the history, which means it’s time to get into the fun part...how to celebrate it!

To keep this post simple I’ll put it in list form, and I apologize in advance for mentioning some things more than once, there’s some things that end up being good crossover ideas, so sorry if it sounds repetitive at all! (Just your typical chronically apologizing Libra over here!) 

I’ll start with some traditional ways to celebrate, then list the correspondences, THEN go into a longer list of celebration ideas! I’ll try to keep this short but there’s lots of info and I wanted to give plenty of options, so if you don’t see what you're looking for, just keep scrolling it’s probably there! ;) (It’s long, i’m sorry oh geez)

If not, I’m always available for messages and questions, and i’ll be posting craft ideas, recipes, and more ways to celebrate on my Instagram account that’s connected to this blog. Check the ‘Lughnasadh’ highlight and my story on August 1st for more! @selfcarewitchxo​ 

Now let’s jump in!

How To Celebrate Traditionally

To start, I wanted to suggest some basic ways to celebrate in a more traditional way, and then go into a list with lots more options and details! Some of these might repeat in the list below so sorry in advance! (Libra problems again, I tried to organize the best I could...I’m so OCD)

Lughnasadh is about giving thanks for what has grown in summer, and for the abundance in our lives. We gather what has grown and begin to prep for winter and the darker, colder months, but not before celebrating a successful harvest season!

In the old days, it was tradition to climb a hill and bury or leave an offering of the first and best of your harvest to Lugh, usually the first loaf of bread you've baked. Offerings are left in exchange for blessings, gratitude, abundance, strength, protection, and growth. You can do the same hill idea, or leave your first loaf or other offering on your altar, or another special place.

Lughs’ original festival, was also focused on feasting, games, and athletic competition. Try recreating the same and have some friends over for a BBQ and some friendly competition! 

Gods, Goddesses, Animals and Other Deities

The Celtic God Lugh is the patron deity for this festival, but if you’re not from a Celtic background, don’t use Lugh in your practice, or are from a Dianic tradition, there are many other Gods, Goddesses, animals and deities to choose from to incorporate into your Lughnasadh holiday. 

Tailtiu (Lughs’ adoptive Mother who passed away, the festival is held in her honor) is a traditional female option, but any grain/agricultural/Mother Goddess/Father God figures make great picks. 

For Goddesses, Rhiannon, Annona, Persephone, Cerridwen, Ceres, Demeter, and Isis are all options, and Odin, John Barley Corn, Dagon, Taranis, Vulcan, Mercury, Loki, Tammuz and Adonis are suggestions for the males! This is just to name a few of course! 

As for animals, agricultural animals such as roosters, lambs, sheep, calves, and pigs are associated with the holiday, you can also use the majestic stag! For more mythological options, the centaur, phoenix and griffin are also associated.

Try adding statues, figurines, feathers, bones or other things associated with these Gods/Goddesses/deities/animals as altar decorations!

Decorations

How can you have a holiday without some festive decorations? Take some time to redo your altar space, room, or even your whole house if you want, to get into the holiday spirit! Being a harvest, nature based holiday, there are many cheap, easy, decorating ideas, that include many things we already have at home! 

To start, use some seasonally scented candles, wax burners, or essential oils to make your sacred space smell like Lughnasadh vibes! 

Candles in holiday colors, or tied with holiday colored ribbon, make a good altar addition! (See below for list of color correspondences) 

Dried corn, rice, wheat, corn dollies, fallen twigs, dried straw, herbs, crystals, corn stalks, pumpkins, squash, dried oats, dried beans, a cornucopia, sunflower seeds, flowers, a scythe, a sickle, or a cauldron are quite seasonal options! (Keep reading for suggestions for crystals, scents and herbs!)

Crystals 

These crystals are associated with Lughnasadh. Try using them as altar decorations, in your spellwork, or to meditate with during the holiday!

Amber, aventurine, carnelian, citrine, moss agate, topaz, golden topaz, obsidian, tigers eye, brown agate, clear quartz, cats eye, lodestones, peridot.

Plants/Herbs/Flowers/Scent Associations 

Lumping this one a little since these have dual uses! 

Wheat, Basil, Mint, Queen Anne’s Lace, Calendula, Yarrow, Sunflowers, Marigolds, Frankincense, Sandalwood, Rose, Rosemary, Rose hips, Blackthorn, Vervain, Peonies, Poppies, Ginseng, All Spice and Chamomile all have associations with Lughnasadh. Use these to decorate, make tea, cook or bake with, scent your home or altar space, or to leave as an offering! (Keep reading for suggestions on how to use these) 

Colors

Try candles and ribbons in shades of green, brown, bronze, orange, yellow and gold. Personally, I always choose a yellow, brown, gold, and green candle for my Lughnasadh altar space.

Yellow represents solar energies, happiness, and transformation.

Brown represents earth energies, strength, protection, and animals.

Gold is to illuminate, for success, divine power, and the harvest.

Green represents abundance, prosperity, fertility, growth, wealth, life, and vegetation.

Food & Drink Ideas 

As Lughnasadh is a feasting holiday to give thanks, consider having some friends and loved ones over for a BBQ or potluck! both are great traditional ideas. Try these food and drink suggestions to indulge in holiday flavors!

Foods: BBQ, breads, roasted lamb, pot luck, berries - like blueberries and blackberries, potatoes, pies, nuts, pumpkin, mushrooms, garlic, honey, acorn squash, summer squash, apples, oats, rice, beans, fried chicken, berry pancakes

Drinks: Since wheat is a big thing, beer is a staple drink, but if you’re more of a wine person try elderberry, blackberry or blueberry wine. For alcohol free options, cherry or apple ciders are great, or plain apple juice. 

Mint and chamomile are associated herbs, they make a great tea suggestion! Sweet mint, peppermint or spearmint make lovely iced teas. Blueberry or blackberry teas are also delicious! 

I’m also personally adding mojitos to this list as a modern update. Since mint is associated, adding some from your garden in a refreshing mojito sounds like a good way to incorporate it to me!

Try some oats or blueberry pancakes in the morning with a seasonal juice or herbal tea, then do a bigger feast for dinner of lamb or chicken, with a beer, then pie for dessert!

More Ways to Celebrate 

Bake Bread

There’s lots of recipes online for you to bake your very own loaf. Try adding herbs, or twisting the dough into Celtic knots for extra flair. You can also ‘paint’ the bread! Try Pinterest for some great recipe ideas. Bake extra to give away to a loved one or leave as an offering!

Have a Popcorn Party

Since Lughnasadh is associated with corn, try having a movie night wit friends and making different varieties of popcorn! Do you like spicy, or sweet kinds? This is a great idea to try with kids! 

Have a Beer

As a grain holiday, relaxing with a cold brew is a good way to relax this Lughnasadh. Safely and responsibly of course.

Create a Besom

A besom is a witches broom. This is a good time of year to use dried straw, fallen twigs, ribbons and charms to create your own. Personally I love to see lavender in them, gorgeous!

Make Candles

If you have the supplies (even cooler if you have you own bees and wax!) try making candles. Bonus points for seasonal colors and scents, triple points for recycling old wax and bringing life back to old candles! 

Harvest/Canning

Harvest your fruits, veggies, and herbs you’ve grown to use them in thanks in teas, tinctures, salves, your cooking, spellwork, and to hang up to dry. Make salsas, or preserves or jams to try on your Lughnasadh bread, or try canning to have a treat in the cold months!

Spend Time Outdoors

Take a walk, hike up a hill, have a picnic, visit a Farmer’s Market or produce stand for local goodies, or go pick fruits, like apples, berries or peaches at a local orchard! Find a way to soak up the last of the season’s warmth.

Have a Fire/Light a Candle

Have a bonfire solo or with friends, and consider burning away some things that need to be released. Throw things that don’t serve you (that are fire safe of course!) into the flames and let them be released. Let the fire ‘reap’ the bad from your life, and ‘sow’ positivity back into it.

If you can’t have a fire, choose a seasonally colored candle, or a few, and give thanks by it’s light! You can carve runes into them if you’d like also!

Spellwork

Lughnasadh works with themes of success and abundance, so it’s a great time of year to do spellwork involving your career, health or love life. If you or someone you know is trying for a new job, or hoping for a new relationship, or maybe buying a house, or moving to a new location, try a little spell to help you manifest your (or theirs!) goals.

Scrying/Divination

Break out your tarot, oracle cards and scrying/divination tools! This is a good time to try new methods you haven’t worked with before, such as bones or runes. If you’ve never tried fire scrying, use your Lughnasadh bonfire or candle as a first attempt!

Cooking/Baking/Drink Making

Feasting with friends or loved ones is a good way to celebrate! (Try the menu ideas above!) Try using herbs you’ve grown or purchased from a local stand in the recipes!

Make a Corn Dolly

Traditionally the least sheaf that was ceremonially cut was used to make a ‘corn dolly’, and carried to the village. The corn dolly would be made into a corn maiden (or corn mother) if the harvest was good, or a ‘cailleach’ (Celtic word for witch, hag) after a bad harvest. These dollies could be clothed, or dressed with ribbon. If you make a doll at Lughnasadh, she can be used again in six months for Imbolc, and can be dressed in spring colors. The harvest Mother, becomes the Spring bride! (Some traditions don’t believe in reusing the doll, but that depends on your practice!)

Smudge/Cleanse/Bless Your Space

Smudge away that negativity that’s been lingering, clear the air, and your life, so that you may grow bountiful! Buy a smudge stick or make your own with sage and added herbs if you’d like. Mugwort, rosemary, lavender and juniper are good additives. Open the windows, let the light and breeze in! Start fresh and clean this holiday, and reap those bad energy places!

Make a Gift

Acts of service and selflessness are important on Lughnasadh. We’re in a place of abundance, and it’s time to share the bounty and love with others. Make a gift for a friend, loved one or neighbor to share the holiday spirit. Try flowers you’ve picked, breads or foods you’ve made, jams or jellies you preserved, or another homemade craft item. Make it with love! They’ll be sure to feel the positive vibes. They’ll see this act of kindness, and pass it on...the world needs more love!

Acts of Service

Lughnasadh is centered around themes of prosperity, generosity, continued success, and giving thanks; which makes it a great time to help those around us, and share the blessings of our abundance with others. 

Consider volunteering your time, organizing a community cleanup, picking up trash at the beach, having a friend, neighbor, or loved one over for a hot meal, or offering to help a neighbor with something they need. Devote your time, and watch the blessings come back to you.

Make a Gratitude List

What has ‘grown’ in you life this year that you’re thankful for? Have some seasonal tea, sit by a candle, and make a gratitude list of everything you’re blessed with in life. 

Make a reap/ sow list

On that note, you can also try a reap/sow list. Write down what you’re proud to have “planted” in your life, and watched grow, and also what your’re not proud of. What needs to be ‘reaped’ from you life? What weeds are strangling you, that need to be pulled for a bountiful harvest next year? Use this time as personal reflection, and choose what to reap and sow to live your best life in alignment with your true self. Think in ‘Regrets’, ‘Farewells’, ‘Harvest’ and ‘Preserves’

Regrets: Think about things you meant to do this summer that did not come to fruition. Project your regrets onto fire safe objects, like pine cones, and throw them into your fire. You can also write on dried corn husks or paper. 

Farewells: What’s passing from your life? What is over? Say goodbye. You can use visuals or writing for this, and also throw into the fire to release, or a lake or ocean. You could also use a flower bulb and plant it, to watch it grow back next year.

Harvest: What have you already harvested this year? What is sprouting? Find a way to represent those things and create a visual reminder to hang in your home. 

Preserves: Think about the fruits you have gathered this year and how you can hold onto the sweet memories. Make a remembrance box, or box altar, to help remember special things, times and people. 

Make a Craft

Lugh is the God of craftsmanship, so try making something festive to decorate your home or altar! Wheat can be used for wreaths and door decorations, apples can be turned into seasonal candle holders, or try making your own corn dolly or besom. Search Pinterest for these great ideas or check my Instagram account for the how-to’s! (@selfcarewitchxo)

Go to a Craft Fair

And again, on that note! Since Lugh is the God of this, see if there’s any local craft fairs in your area and buy some local goodies!

PHEW!

That’s it folks! Your complete guide to celebrate Lughnasadh! Thank you for being patient with me as I got this posted. If you hear from me on other sites you know I already typed this whole thing once and it got deleted! Ahh! I’m glad to have this up finally!

Connect with me on Instagram to see what i’ll be doing for the day, and send me the ideas you’ve decided to try out! I’d love to see your crafts or anything you’ve baked! Also if you have any ideas to add, let me know and I’ll post them!

HAPPY CELEBRATING!

Blessed Lughnasadh Witches!

~ Faye ~

@selfcarewitchxo​ 

[sidhewrites]

Short Story #5: The Woman in Green

Everyone knows not to go in the woods. It’s silent. It’s alive. The trees loom and whisper as you pass, trying to figure out how to best get you lost. The leaves are too green, the flowers too tall. The fruit, if eaten, will kill you within a day. There is someone in the woods. A woman, all in green. She used to love visitors, until the woodsmen grew too greedy and she chased us away.  It’s easy enough. There’s only one road in and out -- nothing more than a deerpath lined on either side by toadstools and truffles.

We’re allowed to eat them. The Woman in Green provides. Our crops are healthy, and feed us well. The milk is sweet and the water is clear. When she’s feeling generous, a deer will be sent out from the wood. One of the men will nock an arrow and take it down -- always the men. Bloodshed is too base and cruel to be women’s work. The arrow always flies true. She never was one to let her wards suffer.

She cares for us, so long as we follow her rules. Every household must offer tithe, every person must promise her love. We leave our offerings on the very edge of the truffle-lined road,  and we sing to the trees. The children wonder if she’s even in there, but they’re too young to understand. They haven’t learned what to look for, not yet.

An apple too red.

A leaf too large.

A flower blooming where it doesn’t belong.

I saw her once, when I was just old enough to no longer be young. Collecting the berries and thyme she let us have, just on the edge of what once was a road. I sang as I went, mimicking birdcalls that I hear in the wood. Talking back to it when it talked to me. It seemed only polite to make conversation while I worked. The shadows of a tree fell over my hand -- and I snatched it back quick enough to avoid notice -- or so I hoped.

But the bushes rustled and the trees pulled aside to reveal a shadow, deep into the trees. Two eyes gleaming through the dim. 

The Woman in Green provides. But we mustn’t go further than what she allows.

I never told my mother. My grandfather figured it out. My breath too sweet, my fingers too long. I could lift three bushels where my brothers could lift barely one. 

“I won’t have a forest-tainted child under my roof,” he said, and sent me away.

I asked the carpenter to build me a house where I could tend to my herbs and raise my hens. I promised him first pick of my harvest as soon as it came in, and he left me alone after that.

My grandfather, though he refused me, did his best to keep my reputation. “She’s a hermit at heart,” he’d laugh over drinks. “Used to go days without saying a single word.” It wasn’t true then. It is now.

I grew to hate company or noise. I avoid festivals when I can, or stay on the sidelines if I must. Men ask me to dance, and I dance. They offer a drink, and I drink. And then I go home, while the bonfires are still lit, and the music still plays, and even the children are still running around underfoot.

Iron burns my hands and skin. I work with wood or copper, if I work with tools at all. My herbs grow lush and fat, and toadstools crop up at the edge of my field.

The forest calls to me at night. I hear birdsong, but it doesn’t come from a bird. It comes from her, dancing between the trees and eating the poison fruits, dressed all in green. I like to imagine her hair to be brown, like bark or loam, and her eyes the same green as her too-bright leaves. That her fingers are long and slender like mine, and her lips are soft and sweet.

I try to ignore her, best I can. She isn’t calling to me. Can’t be calling to me. I don’t know how to sing and my hands are clumsy at best. They’re suited for pulling weeds and sowing seeds and carrying baskets of eggs. And she sings only to beautiful people, artisans who know well their trade.

I resist her call for years. My chest aches with longing every time I hear it, but I can’t quite make myself leave. I pretend I still belong in the village. I sell my eggs, and I sing to myself. It takes a while before I realize my song matches hers.

A desperate winter strikes this year, killing the crops early. Some of the Grandfathers discuss cutting down extra trees for firewood. “Just a few for warmth,” they say. “We’ll double our tithe come spring.”

I’m not supposed to be listening. I’m not supposed to be here at all. “The wood will rot before it reaches your hearth,” I say, and they want to ignore me. I’m too young to be one of them, spouseless, childless. But it’s the first time I’ve spoken in over a month, save for my whistling, and some of them want to listen.

More of them don’t. The Grandfathers argue and debate, until one of them remembers my herbs. “Her crops grow year round, even now,” he says. “The Woman in Green favors her.”

It’s not untrue. My basil plant is tall as my knee, and has always stood on its own. Even the truffles on the edge of my field are fatter than those on the deerpath.

“Go to the wood, then,” they tell me, and thrust a basket in my hand full of tithe and coin. “Give this to her and ask her what she wants. We only need a few.”

“How many is a few?” I ask, but they send me away.

The full moon hangs fat over the wood, lighting up the truffle road with a silvery glow. Frost clings to them, but they don’t wither in the cold. I barely feel it myself as I walk, silent as I can, and stop at the edge of the wood.

I hear her birdsong beyond the treeline. I want to listen. I want to throw off my shoes and run to her and never come back.

But I have a basket in my hands. And I am still, somewhere in me, a little afraid of the wood. So I answer back, whistling the same tune she sings. And it draws her out, just enough to see her again. Her glowing eyes, peeking out of the dim, blink at me slowly. I don’t stop the song, and neither does she. 

Slowly, slowly, The Woman in Green reveals herself. She is tall as a young tree, hair the color of bark and loam, eyes as bright as her leaves. Her footsteps are near-silent as she approaches, and she stands just on the other side of the treeline. I could reach out and touch her. Something in me wants nothing more.

We only whistle to each other for a long time, like birds calling in the dawn. I think she hears something in my song, something I didn’t mean to share.

 “Why are you here?” she asks. Her voice is soft and deep, like the wind through the trees.

“The winter is cold,” I say. “The Grandfathers want to trade.”

She looks over my basket, peering at the tithes. Measuring them up, and finding them short.

“They said they’d double their tithes in spring. They just need a few extra trees.”

She hisses at me and disappears into the shadows. She has every right, I think, after what we had once taken from her.

But I know better than to leave just yet. She’s angry, but not gone. I see her eyes, glimmering in the dark. I know where to look.

“What can I give you so they can stay warm?” I ask. The truffles in my field have kept me fed for years. The herbs grow tall and my chickens fat. I don’t want to give it up, not for them. I don’t want to stop hearing her song.

Her eyes shift, and she prowls closer, just enough to meet my gaze. “They sent you as a sacrifice, I think. They don’t expect you to come back.”

She whistles to me a simple song. My chest aches with the longing it brings.

I answer back with the same tune. When I step into the shadows this time, I don’t flinch away. Her lips are as soft as I had hoped they’d be, and I kiss her until winter’s end.

The trees loom and whisper as you pass, trying to figure out how to best get you lost. The leaves are too green, the flowers too tall. The fruit, if eaten will kill you within a day, if you don’t know how it’s meant to be cooked.

There is a woman in the woods, all in green. She feeds me sweet apples under scattered dapples of sunlight, and I sing sweet birdsong while I brush her hair.

We used to love visitors, until we didn’t. We only want each other now. 

[mercurygray]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY FRIEND!! 🎂 I hope it’s lovely!! For the prompt request, I’d love to see the “fire or flames” prompt, for whatever characters or fandoms you feel like!

I had to sit on this one for a while, because I wasn’t quite feeling fall yet, but today it was nice and chilly outside, and it’s the Equinox, and Downton was calling my name.

Sybbie shivered and pulled her sweater a little bit closer at the elbows. The sun was just setting over the hills around Downton, casting a golden hue over trees and fields. Her father was still inside, chatting with her aunt about some estate vagary or another in the library while her stepmother and siblings played in the salon, and it didn't look like they'd be leaving for a while, yet.

From where she was standing, everything looked to be at peace.

But we're not at peace, are we? We're at war.

"Aren't you cold out here?" her cousin Viola asked, joining her elder cousin on the lawn just outside the drawing room doors. "Mrs. Bates will have a fit if she sees you out without a coat."

"I wanted someplace to think."  

The younger girl tugged at her own cardigan. "And you can't do that inside?"

Sybbie shook her head. Donk wanted me to help him set the pins in his map, and kept prattling on to Barrow about getting the guns ready, and Grandmama asked if I was thinking about a nursing course, and Lucy only wanted me to play with the twins as though nothing was going on, as though we weren't -

She sighed. If George were here, he'd understand. But George was at school, probably surrounded by friends thinking of enlisting, and going on about the glories of battle.

"It's the Equinox - when night and day are perfectly balanced." She tilted her chin out towards the horizon and the setting sun. "From here the days only ...get darker."

Viola thought for a moment, considering the darkening sky, and realized what her cousin was really saying. "Oh." For a moment the two young women stood in silence, the evening twilight slowly rolling in. "You...you don't think war will come to Downton, do you? I mean, I know there was a hospital here, the last time,  but...it's not as though the Germans are going to come up the drive!"

"No," Sybbie admitted, thinking of the fading photograph in her father's bedroom, the woman in a nurse's dress who bore a passing resemblance to her, of the graves in the cemetery she visited with her aunt Mary bearing the names of people she had never known. "But there'll be...changes. I just...I want to remember it now. As it is." As it should be.

Her cousin didn't seem to know what to say to that, and turned back to watching the valley, now firmly in the hands of Night and all her stars. "Is that a bonfire?" Viola pointed across to a thin column of smoke just visible above a steadily growing flame.

"It's a tradition." In the library behind them there was a book with peeling gilt letters and her mother's name penciled into the cover, the well-worn pages filled with incredibly dry prose about Yorkshire customs and folklore. How had her mother managed to read it repeatedly? "A way to face the darkness at the turning of the year."

"What on earth are you young ladies doing out here?" The housekeeper had finally appeared, a small but imposing figure in the light from the drawing room. Sybbie felt embarrassed, but Viola had no such misgivings; it was, after all, her house, and Sybbie was sure she'd been caught in much worse transgressions than this.

"Can we have a bonfire, Mrs. B? Sybbie says it's a tradition, at the equinox."

"A bonfire?" The housekeeper looked astonished at the suggestion. "Certainly not. You'll catch your death of cold."

"We'll be plenty warm, if it's big enough, Mrs. B! Sybbie says it's to banish the darkness!"

Mrs. Bates looked from Viola to Sybbie, her gaze softening a little as she, too, worked through the various meanings of darkness, and the changing of the seasons, a time of war coming in after a time of peace and the need for the stability of tradition, no matter how old or outdated it seemed. "It's a little late for it now," she allowed, her voice a touch softer. "I daresay they've plenty of rubbish to burn at the cottages, but we've little enough about. Why don't we light some candles, instead? It'll be in the same spirit."

Viola beamed at the suggestion, and Sybbie allowed herself to agree, following Mrs. Bates back inside as the housekeeper went for candles and candlesticks and  matches, setting them out on the low table under the windows where Grandmama kept the family pictures. "It's a harvest festival, the Equinox," Mrs. Bates added, as she gave Viola the matches and let her light the tapers one by one. "When I first started in service here we would go to help with the mowing. Even the Earl would go out  - though he was a much younger man then, your grandfather. A time to gather the tribe - to give thanks for what we have."

Sybbie watched the flames flicker on the glass that covered the Crawleys, Aunt Mary and Uncle Henry, Aunt Edith and Uncle Bertie and Mari and the boys, George in his school uniform, the twins in their sailor suits, her mother's cousin from New York whose name she couldn't remember, her father and her grandfather at the village cricket match, a lovely old photo of her mother and both her sisters and uncle Matthew, whom she'd never met. A whole crowd of people - her people. Her tribe. We're all with you, their faces seemed to say in the candlelight. We've weathered storms like this before, and we'll do it again, too. You don't have to go alone. That won't ever change.

And in the uncertain darkness, Sybbie Branson felt a tiny glimmer of hope.

[cassierella]

autumnal asks

I tagged @santonicababy and she tagged me back, but if want to answer these too, go for it!

lantern - how did you meet your best friend? What were your first impressions of each other?

So David is my best friend and I met him at church, first impression he’s a nerd

frost - if you could give some advice to your younger self, what would you say?

I guess, be careful who you call a friend

maple - is there a hobby / skill that you’ve always wanted to try but never did?

I always wanted to learn to play an instrument, learn karate and ballet

harvest - what fictional character do you most identify with? Why?

Honestly sailor moon lol, she’s a big ol baby, but she’s also strong which i admire

fireside - if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like?

A lil bit of everything, I can’t be tied down to any one specific style

cider - a food that you disliked as a child but now enjoy?

uuuhhh tomatoes is all I can think of lol

amber - share an unpopular opinion that you may have.

I think Timothee Chalamet is ugly

fog - how well do you think you’d do in a zombie apocalypse scenario?

I’d probably die rather quickly

jack-o-lantern - if you could look like any celebrity, who would you choose?

Krysten Ritter, Hayley Atwell, Dove Cameron, or Sofia Carson

spice - have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted?

there’s this one house in my city that everybody thinks to be haunted

orchard - share one thing that you’d like to happen this autumn.

That i go to a pumpkin farm and a fall festival or two

crow - which school subject do you wish you had an aptitude for?

Math, more specifically Calculus and Geometry

bonfire - describe your dream house.

Something modern, concrete floors, brick walls, many windows for natural lighting, plants to liven up the place, and mirrors to create the feeling of more space.

cinnamon - if you had to live in a time period different than the present, which would you choose and where?

uuuh not sure

cobweb - (if you’ve graduated) do you miss high school?

I miss the structure of it, my life is currently lacking structure and idk how to fix it

cranberry - what’s one physical feature that you get complimented on?

mmm probably my hair

maize - share the weirdest encounter you’ve had with a stranger on the street.

Havne’t had any, but i have plenty at work. this kid came up to my register made eye contact and proceeded to do the floss without breaking eye contact.

quilt - how do you take your tea (or coffee)?

i take my coffee w a lil bit of creamer and two small spoons of sugar.

pumpkin - do you think that humans are inherently good or bad?

Neither really, that’s why we have free will

moonlit - are you a neat or messy person? Is your room / house orderly?

ummm I think when it comes to my personal living spaces, or areas that pertain to mostly me, I’m messy, BUT when I’m in public or a place that doesn’t pertain to me I keep as tidy as possible.

flannel - have you ever gone on a bad date?

Nope

cocoa - if you could have any type of hair, what colour and cut would you have?

I’ve wanted blonde hair for the longest, but also either having all around purple or all around green.

ghost - is there someone that you miss having in your life?

mmm not really... people come and go.

[homehaps1]

What Is The Meaning of Halloween

Now that October is just around the corner and Halloween is almost here, it’s time to start planning out all of those Halloween treats, crafts and activities!

Whether you’re young or old, Halloween is a holiday that can be fun for all ages. When it comes to dressing up and trick or treating for bags full of candy for the kids and throwing super fun halloween parties for the adults, everyone just can’t wait for the big day to commence! And to start off the season… why not learn a little back story on one of the most celebrated holidays around the world. I mean we celebrate this awesome holiday but where did Halloween and it’s traditions come from?

Whether you’ve always had a curiosity about the origin of Halloween or you’re just a major history buff looking to study something seasonal, at some point many of us ask ourselves that very question.

So to kick off the season and to gather some inspiration for your costume or upcoming party, let’s dive into the history of this fun filled holiday and how it became popular around the world!

So, what is the meaning of Halloween? The meaning of Halloween came from the popular, original term, “All Hallows Eve.” But where did that come from? To answer that question we have to go back to the very first celebration.

Halloween was first celebrated back in the early eighth century as the night before All Saints Day. To break it down, the word Hallows means Saints, hence the All Hallows Eve or as it used to be called All Hallows Even.

The name literally means the night before All Saints Day. In later years the term was shortened from All Hallows Even to Hallowe’en, then as we all know it today, Halloween.

Why is Halloween celebrated on October 31st?

Well back in the eighth century, Pope Gregory IV created a holiday on November 1st called “All Saints Day” to celebrate the new year and, well, the saints! Back then they believed October 31st marked the beginning of the cold winter and the end of the harvest season, making November 1st the beginning of their new year.

They also believed that the day before their new year was the day the boundary between the living and the dead became blurred, which they believed made it easier for the spirits to return. Another belief was that on this day the priests were able to predict the future by speaking to the spirits.

This is where the tradition for fortune telling on Halloween came from. So every year on October 31st they would dress up in costumes and light bonfires at the Celtic Samhain festival to ward off ghosts, tell fortunes of the upcoming winter and to mark the end of the year. Making October 31st the day we celebrate Halloween.

Why do we carve pumpkins?

During these Samhain festivals, not only would they dress up and dance around the bonfire to ward off ghosts, but they would also hollow out gourds, turnips and even potatoes! They would carve spooky faces into them and light a candle inside. Which in turn became Jack-O’-Lanterns.

Jack-O’-Lanterns were invented by the Irish and were so named after an old Irish folk tale called Stingy Jack. A folk tale about a very mischievous guy who was up to no good and played one too many tricks. Until one day it landed him inside of a gourd, which deemed him his name “Jack of the Lantern.” Or otherwise known as, Jack-O’-Lantern.

Carving pumpkins came to be a tradition when the Irish brought the tradition of carving gourds and potatoes to America. The home of the pumpkin! After a while, they discovered that pumpkins made really great Jack-O’-Lanterns and from then on carving pumpkins has become a Halloween tradition that we just couldn’t live without!

Where did trick or treating come from?

The tradition of trick or treating began in the ninth century on November 2nd, which was called All Souls Day, a day for honoring the dead.

On this day children would go door to door in “disguises” asking for Soul Cakes, a type of pastry, in exchange for a prayer for the homeowners’ dead relatives.

However in later years (the early 1930’s to be exact) it is said that before and during this time, Halloween became dangerous as children would vandalize people’s homes and pull pranks on them as well.

So, as a way to hopefully stop the little pranksters from vandalizing their property, homeowners would bribe them with treats and gifts as an ultimatum. Basically, “I’ll give you a treat if you leave my house alone.”

This eventually took and quickly became known as Trick-or-Treat!

Costumes Throughout History

Costumes have been around since the beginning of the holiday. It started with the Samhain festival when people would dress up and dance around the bonfire. As Halloween became a bigger tradition, so did the costumes!

Starting from the 1800’s people would wear homemade witch and ghost costumes. Fast forward a hundred years and paper masks were being mass produced for children to wear on the holiday.

The paper mask costumes were such a big hit that in the 1930s and 40s companies started to make box costumes that went over the body and came with a plastic mask. These costumes are some of the first recorded costumes to have been created off of popular characters from TV shows, radio shows and books.

In the 1950s, much like we know it today, the costumes made were primarily created to match the most popular TV and movie characters of the year. From then on, movies, TV and media paved the way for the costumes that are created today.

And not to mention that the 1978 horror film “Halloween” was the start to the creation of the scary gory costumes we see today!

The way we celebrate Halloween today

Halloween may have started out as a serious holiday to ward off ghosts and commemorate the end of the harvest season, but now Halloween has become a fun filled holiday we all love!

Our transformation into building traditions, dressing up as our favorite characters, planning epic parties, making delicious treats, trick or treating and snuggling up to our favorite Halloween movies is truly a great way to celebrate this special Holiday.

Going through the history of Halloween really shows that most of the traditions we’ve built are pretty much the same as our ancestors but modernized and turned into fun!

As you see, most of the things we have come to know and love about Halloween, such as the dressing up, trick or treating, carving pumpkins and telling scary stories have all come from the original “All Hallows Eve” Samhain festival from way back in the eighth century.

Even looking through the history of costumes and trick or treating, we see that Halloween has just in the past 80 years evolved. I mean some of our ancestors are still alive from that time!

And now that we have shed some light on the history of Halloween, it’s time to take that knowledge and turn it into inspiration for your Halloween crafts and treats!

For more personalized halloween banners and party signs visit us here

[little-inkstone]

Roll in the Hay

Summery:  A young and cheerful spinner Rumplestiltskin is very happy with his life, so happy he drinks a little too much at the local Harvest Festival.

AN:  Thanks to @annythecat for listening to me as I rambled about this fic while writing it.  I hope you all enjoy!

The smell of fresh straw filled the air as Rumplestiltskin began to wake up.  His mouth felt dry as sand from the drink he’d indulged in from the Harvest Festival the night before, and his mind was clouded.  He blinked at a ray of light shone through the roof and he frowned and groaned, when had there been a hole in his thatch?  Rumple squeezed his eyes shut, his head didn’t really hurt, there was only a very slight ache behind his eyes, but the light hadn’t helped.

He shifted and realized belatedly that he was lying on a burlap cloth spread over a large bed of straw naked as the day he was born.  As he moved someone soft and warm shifted beside him, letting out a gentle sigh, their unclothed body pressing closer to him. That explained the weight on his chest, but not why he wasn’t in his own bed.  Resting his head back down he tried to open his eyes again, this time with more success.  As his vision cleared he realized he recognized the barn he was laying in.  It was small and not often used in the winter since it was too far from the town.  He looked down at his chest, noticing the nest of brunette curls tucked against him and he smiled.

Closing his eyes he leaned back and tried to remember what had happened the night before. What had led to him lying in a mound of straw with his wife?

It had been the yearly bonfire to celebrate the town’s rich harvest.  Everyone had been in good spirits and the wine and ale had been flowing freely.  Rumplestiltskin had imbibed in more than a few cups of the sweet drinks.  Soon his head had begun to swim but that had just added to the joy he was feeling.  It had been a good year, five lambs had been born and all of them had survived and were healthy enough to bear the winter.  He’d been married during the height of summer and so far he and Milah had been happy enough; they were even talking of children.  It had been a time for celebrating and he had.  That still didn’t answer the questions making their way through his sluggish mind.  What happened?  Why was he here and not home?

The last thing he really remembered was dancing with Belle.

She and her father had come to town a month before he was set to marry Milah and they had become fast friends.  Belle spent more time at his small stall then she did at her father’s during market day and he had sat enraptured as she told him of the latest book she was reading. Her smile was brighter than the sun and her eyes put the sky to shame.  He couldn’t understand why no one had been able to court her yet.  Belle was still young, a decade or so younger than his thirty summers, but still a few years past the point that was considered expected for her to marry.  Rumple cherished his friendship with Belle and wanted nothing but her happiness.  He knew she would be able to take care of herself without a husband, but he also knew that someone so loving should have a companion to brighten her days and warm her nights.  Just as he had with Milah.

Something had changed after his wedding a month after they met.  Belle had distanced herself from him and it had been the only thing to mar his happiness.  Without Belle’s smile the world felt gray and cold, without her presence during market day the hours dragged by blandly.  When she’d taken his hands to dance around the fire the night before he had thought his face would split from his smile and his heart would beat out of his chest. He’d missed her.  She was as drunk and giddy as he had been; both of them were deep in their cups as they’d spun around each other.

A memory tickled the back of his mind as he lay in the straw.  She’d led him away from the fire into the fields and he had willing followed her.  The rest of the night was a confused blur.  He remembered telling someone with blue eyes and brown curls he loved them, followed by soft kisses and roaming hands.  They’d stumbled along in the dark until they’d found that barn, but why not go home?  Why drag Milah out into the fields?  Rumple raised his free hand and massaged the bridge of his nose in confusion.  When had he and Belle parted ways?  The last time he remembered seeing his wife playing festival games.

He felt as if he were on the cusp of realizing something very important when the body shifted beside him and let out a yawn.  He opened his eyes and looked down just as she looked up.  They wore twin expressions of surprise as they gazed at each other.

“It wasn’t a dream.” Belle whispered a smile pulling at her lips as she looked at him, hungry to take in every detail.  Her hand reached up to cup his cheek and he was speechless.

As Rumple stared into Belle’s beautiful blue eyes the events of the night before came rushing back in startling clarity.  She’d pulled him into the fields and they’d giggled like fiends as they’d almost tripped and fell more than once.  Belle had ended up in his arms, much like now, and as he’d looked down at her he had let fly a truth he had kept trapped in his chest like caged bird for too long. I love you.  She had smiled and suddenly it was like the sun had come out.  Belle had kissed him then and they had found their way to the barn. They’d begun to undress each other and when he’d stopped to ask if she was sure Belle had told him she wanted him to be her first.  He’d tried to step back at that but she had coaxed him back with sweet touches and even sweeter words.

Shame filled Rumple as he realized he had deflowered his dearest friend.  Even if she hadn’t been a maiden he would still be a cad for sleeping with her when he was bound to someone else.  Belle was finer then a high born lady.  She deserved her first time to be romantic and perfect in a bed made of soft furs with her true love, not a quick roll in a dusty barn on itchy pointy straw.

“I’m sorry, Belle.” He finally said, his voice hoarse.

She shook her head and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.  “Don’t be, I’m not.”

He looked away and then back at her timidly, his cheeks heating from her kiss, so freely given along with the feel of her still naked body pressed to his.  It would be lie to say he hadn’t sometimes dreamed of Belle in his arms, or even let his mind wander to the idea when he was alone in the fields.  Rumple believed he would never act on those thoughts.  He wanted to be loyal to Milah and worthy of Belle’s friendship, but now here he was.

Bile rose to the back of his throat and his eyes began to fill with tears.  He wasn’t better than his father had been, he was worse. His face crumpled and he began to sob. Belle pulled him to her chest and wrapped her arms around him as he clung to her.  Rumple knew he was weak, even now he didn’t fully regret being allowed to hold Belle.  Her touches were branded into his skin and the sounds of her moans burned into his mind. She had given him a gift, a gift he would prize for the rest of his life.  Soothingly she ran her hands though his hair until he was done.  The kisses she peppered along his cheeks were a benediction and a curse as he tried to take deep breathes to calm himself. Finally he calmed down and he took a shuddering breath.  Carefully he rolled away from her so they were no longer touching.

“We need to get back home.”  He told her, breaking the silence that had filled the barn.

The sun coming through the roof showed that it was mid-morning.  No doubt everyone would still be sleeping off all the drinking they’d done but it would still be bad if it was noticed that both he and Belle were missing.  Her smile faltered but she nodded, her hand reaching out and then pulling back at the last moment before she touched him.

“I know.”

Rumple looked away as she slid out of their makeshift bed and pulled her simple blue dress on.  In the meantime he pulled on his shirt and pants.  He looked around for his warm cloak, blushing when he realized it had served as their blanket.  Picking it up he stiffened when he realized it carried the perfume of Belle’s hair and something else he knew was pure sex.  He’d need to wash it before he returned to his cabin if he didn’t want anyone to know what he and Belle had done.  And no one could ever know.  Belle’s reputation would be ruined; his didn’t matter, it was already tarnished, but his heart couldn’t bare it if she had to suffer the scorn he had grown up with. Of course his infidelity would also hurt Milah, he didn’t want that either.

Once they were closer to decent then they had been when they’d woken up, Rumple had trouble looking at her.  He ruined everything he touched and he ruined his friendship with Belle too.  There was no possible way she would ever want to see him again.  The best thing in his life would walk out of that barn door and never look at him again. He felt tears come to his eyes again and he covered his face so he wouldn’t shame himself further in front of Belle.  Instead a warm pair of arms wrapped themselves around him, gently Belle turned him to face her and he fought to keep his chin from wobbling.

“Belle, this shouldn’t have happened, I’m so sorry.”  He murmured as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“I know, I know,” She repeated.  “I just want to hold on for a little longer.”

Belle’s embrace was like the song of a siren that sailors warned about at sea.  Rumple knew this would only lead to more self-hatred, and it took everything he had in him to pull away, but it was the right thing to do.

“I can’t, Belle, I’m married.”  He reminded her, gently pushing her away.

She sighed and nodded.  “I know, I’m sorry, you must hate me now.”

Rumple gently cupped her cheek as she looked at him with shining eyes filled with sorrow. “No, Belle, I could never hate you. You’re my most precious friend. Please,”  He begged.  “Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen, we never have to speak of it again.”

“Never speak of it again?”  She repeated and he nodded, certainly that would be for the best, Belle couldn’t possibly have wanted to sleep with him if they had been sober.  “Yes, I guess that would be for the best.”

He let out a relieved sigh as she agreed.  Maybe he could salvage their friendship after all.  Certainly Belle would be happy not to speak of this day, and if she knew he was willing to pretend this was all a bad dream then maybe she’d stay his friend. They’d already been strained by his wedding; if he didn’t fix this it could break them totally.  Hopefully he could salvage what little connection he still had with her.  Rumple knew he couldn’t lose her; if he did he’d be nothing but dust.

[hearthfeuillemort]

The Twelve Days of Yule! - Moon Night

Season’s greetings! Today I continue with the third post in my series on how I'll be observing each of the twelve days of Yule for the first time this year!  My hope is that my research and suggestions will assist and inspire to you try to observe all twelve days: either by yourselves, with your groups/covens, or with your families.  It would make me so happy if you’d send me an Ask and share some of your personal traditions and customs for celebrating Yule, so please feel free!

Yule, in the ancient heathen tradition, is a twelve-day winter festival beginning at sundown on the night of the winter solstice and ending on the day that we’ve come to think of as New Year’s Day.  Remember: lots of us have obligations or something else going on in our lives that might prevent us from observing all twelve days, and that’s totally okay!

Most of our modern Yule (and Christmas!) customs actually come to us from the ancient Germanic and Scandinavian heathen beliefs and practices, and Moon Night is certainly no exception. Though this is the third post in my series, I feel now is a really appropriate time to mention that very little information about these ancient heathens’ actual spiritual rituals and practices has survived to the modern age.  

After Viking Age peoples first encountered and clashed with early European Christian cultures, Christianity became the dominant (emphasis on “dominant”) belief system in early Germanic and Scandinavian culture and any and all practice or mention of the previous heathen faith was brutally suppressed. All of the information that we currently have about their mythology, cosmology, and religious beliefs has been through Christian historians and poets. They weren’t about to tell us how the heathens actually did their thing - if in fact they even knew - and as a result, today’s heathens are basically trying to piece together their beliefs and practices from what little information remains.

It goes without saying that I couldn’t find much information about how this night was traditionally observed, but I'm undaunted. This can actually give me a lot of creative freedom in how I want to make observances of the night. I already make observances of the moon and its phases during each month of the year, now I have an excuse to give the moon its own festival day!

So, here’s what I did learn: Máni’s realm of influence was represented both by the darkness of the night and by the light that the moon shines for hunters in the darkness. During this particular time of the year when the night was at its longest and crops could not be grown, the ability to hunt animals was vital to Viking Age heathens as a way to keep their families fed during the winter.  Both the moon and sun were regarded as gifts from the deities to assist humans in keeping track of the passage of time. It’s no surprise, then, that Máni would be a particular subject of veneration during a winter celebration.

Unlike the first and second nights, it seems the third night of Yule doesn’t have its own traditional name, or at least not one that survived.  I'm choosing to refer to it as "Moon Night", though if one were to refer to it as Máni’s Night that would be just as appropriate. If you’ve been following along with my posts, you may have started to notice a pattern: each of the twelve nights of Yule honors a different deity. Mother Night is set aside for veneration of the disir (Norse pantheon female deities). The second night, or Wild Hunt, is for honoring Odin as well as spirits and other supernatural entities.

The third night of Yule was traditionally set aside for honoring and making sacrifices to the old Norse god Máni, the god who was the personification of the moon or was said to reside inside it (the possible origins of the “man in the moon” belief!). The name of the god and the word for the celestial body in Old Norse were one and the same. 

Another interesting thing is that a couple of sources that I've found have suggested that this is the appropriate night to practice the famous Yule Log customs (which I’ll get into here in a bit), but this contradicted pretty much everything else I've ever read about the Yule Log. I'd previously read that the Yule Log should be lit on the first night of Yule (Mother Night) and allowed to burn for all twelve nights of the festival.  But there's a good reason that I didn’t go into much detail about the Yule Log in the first post of this series, and it has to do with some of the lore that surrounds it that isn't practical for me (and isn't practical for most people).

Traditionally, the Yule Log was enormous: it was more like a very large section of a tree!  After all, it would have to be big enough to last for all twelve nights! Usually, it was dragged from outdoors into the hearth - which back then was typically a huge dirt pit in the center of the home, surrounded by large stones - and was to be lit only by a piece of the previous year’s Yule Log which was saved specifically for this purpose.  Custom dictated that this log could only be either harvested from one’s own property or received as a gift from someone else, never purchased.  The log was then dressed with holly, mistletoe, and other seasonal greenery then doused with ale or cider before being lit by the aforementioned piece of last year’s Yule Log. The very best and most holy wood for the Yule Log was ash, as this tree was extremely sacred to Viking Age heathens. 

Once lit, it was common practice to leap over the burning Yule Log for purification and to invite luck for the coming year, to raise toasts over the log, and to swear oaths upon the log. In Viking Age culture, one’s oaths were considered unbreakable - tantamount to being legally binding in those days - and once an oath exited one’s mouth it was considered one of the greatest dishonors not to keep it. To do so would bring great shame to that person. Fun fact: this oath-swearing tradition is thought to be the origin of today’s New Years’ Resolutions!

Knowing what I know of this custom, there's no way I can work this quintessential part of Yule into my lifestyle. I live in an apartment building in the middle of a major city. I don't even have a fireplace, and most of us can’t get our log on in the way the old heathens did: few if any of us have huge, central hearths in our homes, nor large properties where we can just go around cutting down ash trees!  I couldn’t imagine having a raging fire burning in my home for 12 straight days, either.

It is for this reason that I suggest making Moon Night your night for observing the Yule Log tradition, though perhaps on a smaller scale.  If you don’t have a fireplace, consider making a “yule cone” - this is a neat little project that I stumbled across some time ago.  Take a found pine cone; inside each space place a small roll of paper upon which is written a wish or oath for the coming year.  You can turn this “yule cone” into a tree ornament if you like. Then when Moon Night arrives, find a safe place outside where you can burn the cone.  The smoke will carry your oaths to the sky, and hopefully, your deities will hear you!

If you have a fireplace in your home, then you get to go out to the woods and find yourself a sensible-sized log to serve as your Yule Log.  Be sure to collect winter greenery to dress it with, and to dress the log with ale, mead, or the consecrated beverage of your choice before you light it.  If you choose to then make oaths for the coming year over your Yule Log, keep in mind the seriousness with which our heathen forebears took oaths! Do not make an oath that you cannot or will not keep, or it will bring great shame upon you in the eyes of the deities!

Speaking of deities: I understand that not all of us make veneration of deities a part of our spiritual practice. If you choose not to worship deities or other supernatural entities but instead prefer only to honor the spirit of the season, that is still perfectly okay! In my opinion, there is absolutely no wrong way to observe Yule.  However, if you do choose to honor deity in your practice, Moon Night is an excellent time to make offerings to whichever lunar deity you have the closest relationship with.  

If not, why not have a Moon Night celebration under the night sky?  Instead of a Yule Log, perhaps an outdoor bonfire would suit your needs?  Many of us are already familiar with Moon Cakes as a treat, and tonight would be a perfect time to serve them.  Try to go for a general lunar theme with your livery and decorations. Get creative with your Moon Night celebrations, and please feel free to send me an Ask to share with me any ideas that you come up with for observing the third night of Yule.

Glad yuletide, and hail!