#fate birch

[lilithsaga]

It must be fate that my first collab video is full of mysterious creatures, philosophical ideas, and lots of laughter. 🎭

Here's part one of our adventure! w/@solarisdreamweavervt

[moomoorare]

click for better quality? tumblr loves to compress images worse than dudes repressing gay urges

Art I made for my second work in the Scales of Fate au (Blood In The Wine) featuring The Ocean Queen and her new knights Dame Gem, Lady Pearl and Earl Cleo 🌊💗

[catastrophic-crisis]

Fatum Batula + Letters to a Friend - Farewell

A world without a past, a birch that dictates the future that's your job to feed. A haunting letter report, an occurrence that led to the departure of a notary assistant.

Fatum Batula is a PS1-style atmospheric exploration game, a world without change filled with strange personalities and locations that we must wander in search of something appropriate to feed the birch. Once the birch has drank its fill, we explore a short story named Letters To A Friend -  Farewell, an experience styled like an expressionist silent film.

Warning: both games contain flickering lights that may affect photosensitive viewers.

Today 4:00 PM EST / 9:00 PM UTC/GMT / 1:00 PM PST; https://twitch.tv/catastrophe_jupiter

[dionysianivy]

𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

What is Samhain?

Samhain, celebrated from October 31st to November 1st in the Northern Hemisphere and from April 30th to May 1st in the Southern Hemisphere, is a sacred time when the veil between worlds is at its thinnest. During this festival, the boundaries between realms dissolve, allowing the unseen to come forward. It’s a time to honor our ancestors and offer them hospitality as we transition into the darker half of the year. While it marks the end of the old year, Samhain also heralds the beginning of a new one, reminding us that death is always followed by rebirth, making this festival a powerful moment of transformation.

It is pronounced "Sow-en," which means "summer's end" and aligns with Halloween in the Northern Hemisphere. Samhain marks the time when the Earth enters a period of rest, the days shorten, and winter begins its slow arrival. During this time, the air becomes crisper, the nights grow longer, and the warmth of summer fades, symbolizing the end of one cycle and the start of another.

Samhain holds deep significance as it is a time to remember and honor those we have lost. The thinning of the veil allows for a stronger connection with ancestors, spirits, and otherworldly beings. While it’s a time to venerate these spirits and fair folk, who are particularly active during this liminal period, it’s also essential to protect oneself from any harmful entities that may cross through.

A key aspect of Samhain is honoring and respecting the dead. One simple yet meaningful tradition is to set an extra place at the table for any spirit or ancestor, offering them a meal. Many witches also visit cemeteries to pay respects, not only to their own ancestors but also to those forgotten by time, ensuring no spirit is left without recognition.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

Morrigan x Dagda and Samhain

According to legend, the Irish deities the Dagda and the Morrigan consummate their relationship today to ensure the fertility of land, people, and animals for the year to come. The Dagda, “the good god,” is the tribal father god; the Morrigan, “the phantom queen,” is often described as a “battle goddess,” although that only hints at her powers. She begins the Great Rite in the form of an old hag but is rejuvenated by the union, regaining her youth and beauty. On the eve of Samhain, the Dagda, god of strength and fertility, meets the Morrigan, goddess of war and fate, at the River Unius. As he prepares for battle against the Fomorians, ancient enemies of the Tuatha Dé Danann, he encounters the Morrigan bathing in the river. They make love, a symbolic act representing the union of the land (the Morrigan) with its protector (the Dagda). In return, the Morrigan promises to aid the Tuatha Dé Danann, using her powers of prophecy and battle to help them secure victory. Her role as a goddess of fate is essential, shaping the outcome of the war and the future of the land.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

Magic Correspondences:

Planets: Pluto, Saturn

Season: Autumn

Element: Water

Time of Day: Midnight

Tarot: The Death, The Devil, The Magician

Colors: Black, Orange, Gold, Silver, Red, Yellow, Purple

Herbs: Rosemary, Mugwort, Sage, Patchouli, Frankincense, Calendula, Garlic, Bay, Apple Leaf

Fruits: Pomegranate, Apple, Pear, Grapes, Hazelnuts

Vegetables: Pumpkin, Squash, Carrot, Potato, Turnip

Runes: Eihwaz, Jera, Othala

Crystals: Obsidian, Onyx, Carnelian, Cat’s Eye, Labradorite, Smokey Quartz, Black Tourmaline, Granite, Amber

Trees: Birch, Rowan, Hawthorn

Goddesses: Hecate, Banba, Cerridwen, Macha, Badb, Persephone, Cailleach Bheur, Kali, Bastet, Nephthys, Durga, Arianrhod, Baba Yaga

Gods: Hades, Loki, The Dagda, Cernunnos, Osiris, Anubis, Belenus, Arawn

Dragon: Grael

Flowers: Yarrow, Hawthorn, Marigold, Chrysanthemum, Blackthorn

Animals: Spider, Owl, Bat, Cat, Wolf, Dog, Rat, Snake, Raven, Cow

Magical powers: Transformation, Death, Life Cycles, Honoring the Dead, New Beginnings, Spirit Communication, Witchcraft, Faery Magick, Mirror Spells, Reincarnation, Astral Projection, Balance, Wisdom

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

Activities to do:

👻 Honor your ancestors

👻 Connect with your loved ones that have passed away. Give them offerings, talk to them, and remember the happy moments

👻 Watch your favorite spooky movies

👻 Clean your altar (if you have one)

👻 Carve a pumpkin with symbols of what you want to attract (heart = love, water drops = healing)

👻 Talk with spirits through tarot cards, runes, or a pendulum

👻 Connect with your magick and your craft

👻 Honor and connect with your deities, leave them some offerings as it's an important celebration for everyone

👻 Light candles around your house

👻 Write wishes and place them on your jack-o'-lanterns

👻 Eat Samhain food or any food that makes you feel close to this sabbat

👻 Do guided meditations

👻 Make a special recipe and add some intentions

👻 Do some spells! October, especially Samhain, is the most magickal time!

👻 Leave some milk outside for Cat Síth!

👻 Honor the dead and respect life :D

👻 Write your wishes on bay leaves and burn them

👻 Honor the forgotten dead, those who don't have anyone to remember them, and light a candle for them

👻 Cleanse yourself and your house

👻 If you feel comfortable, visit a cemetery

👻 Eat lots of candy

👻 Light a Bonfire

👻 Eat apples (you can also use them as offerings)

👻 Take a walk in nature and appreciate the beauty of autumn

👻 Wear colors associated with Samhain, especially black

👻 Do candle magick

👻 Collect autumn leaves and place them in your house

👻 Use pumpkin seeds for spells—they're great for prosperity, abundance, or even love

👻 Put up photos of your loved ones who have passed, leave them food, and light candles

👻 Place figurines around your home with cats, crows, pumpkins or other Samhain symbols

👻 Throw a Samhain/Halloween feast with the people you love

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

Food and drinks:

Meat – pork, especially (it’s completely okay if you don’t want to consume it), pumpkin – anything with pumpkin like pumpkin pie, seeds, bread, soup, corn – sweetcorn, popcorn, cornbread, apples – apple cake, apple pie, apple juice, apple cider, spiced wine, cider, mulled wine, honey, potatoes, roasted vegetables, stew, biscuits, salads made with veggies from your garden, recipes loved by your ancestors, pomegranates, squash

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

useful sources: Wicca: A Modern Guide To Witchcraft & Magick; Encyclopedia of Witchcraft: The Complete A-Z for the Entire Magical World by Judika Illes

gifs credit: Pinterest

Tip Jar🕸🎃

[avinoctic]

Art from Act 3 of Sickly Sweet Treats from Birch Barker: Practiced Paranormal Investigator.

[casual-avinoctic]

Some background art practice from a while back. Enjoy :)

[timberwind]

Diamantane Hills, Snohualmy (Rainier II)

Snohualmy is a terrestrial moon roughly the size of Mars, a Lowell-Birch type terraform, a world dominated by glassy soletta-carved handramit valleys and cold, dry haranda highlands(1). It was once a planet in its own right, billions of years before the first transhuman explorers walked its deserts. In its brief heyday, the megayears before the final migration of the system's gas giants to their wide present-day orbits threw the Tiandonias system's closely packed orrery of inner planets into disarray, it may even have hosted a deep global ocean(2). Snohualmy was spared the fate of many of its sister worlds - ejection from the system and a subsequent trillion-year circuit race across the disk of the Milky Way - by a chance encounter with the waterworld Rainier. That fateful close flyby bent the little world's trajectory just enough to capture it into an wide retrograde(3) orbit of the significantly more massive waterworld, in a manner not entirely dissimilar to the slingshot maneuvers that Dawn Age spacecraft used to gain and shed orbital velocity in their journeys across Old Earth's solar system. Many larger worlds have captured moons like this: famous examples from the Early Interstellar period are Triton, icy moon of Neptune (Solar System), and Arash, terrestrial moon of Eff (Tau Ceti).

Pictured is the city of Diamantane Hills, a huddle of hab complexes and marshaling yards sitting on the dry valley floor at the head of the Samarkand Vallis - a great outflow channel system carved in the distant past by one of the catastrophic floods that marked Snohualmy's equivalent of old Mars' Hesperian era. Although a little stunted compared to the bustling cities of the coasts and handramits, it forms an important hub for the maintenance of mining and terraforming automation atop the Tanaka Plateau, as well as the last stop on the western limb of the Trans-Snohualmy Trunkline road-rail-pipeline link before final ascent to the loading docks of the Tanaka Launch Loop.

(1) It's not entirely desert, mind: there's also one major sea roughly at the sub-Rainier point - the somewhat unimaginatively named Nearside Sea - which covers approximately 12% of the surface area of the moon. The anti-Rainier hemisphere's five major lakes account for a further 1%.

(2) Now mostly lost to processes driven by the brief post-capture period of extremely violent tidal heating as Snohualmy's newly planet-centric looping eccentric orbit rung down to a near-perfect circle, as well as subsequent attrition from escape and sequestration processes over the last 3 Gyr.

(3) Snohualmy orbits Rainier counterclockwise relative to the direction of spin of its parent planet. This is a fairly surefire indicator for a moon being captured in and of itself - moons that form in-situ tend to have formed from a common disk of material that spins in the same direction as the final planet does.

[lady-of-tearshed]

What defines you

Cassian x Reader

Cassian Week 2024

Day 1: Flying

@cassianappreciationweek

Sumarry: Cassian and Azriel have been sent on a mission while Rhys is away. Cassian gets back from this mission injured, and the prognosis of his wings recovery is uncertain.

Warnings: Mention of injuries, angst, Cassian self-loathing

Word count: 1,139k words

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

You jolted as Azriel walked out of the healer's room bloodied, face paler than usual, eyes wider too. His shadows were swirling all around him frantically, a poor attempt at covering their master’s raw terror. 

You tried to pass by him, to enter the room, but his large hand stopped you before you could open the heavy birch double door. “He doesn't wish to see anyone right now.” His voice was cold, firmly keeping you from entering the room. 

You had rarely seen Azriel refuse you anything. Your eyes watered as Cassian's cries echoed from the other room. “He's my mate.” You hiss. “I need to be there for him in these kind of moments-” 

“And I'm his brother. Yet here I am, respecting his wish.” He spat, completely losing his temper. You froze, you've never seen that side of Azriel. The male standing in front of you wasn't the Azriel you usually gossip with at family dinners, no. This Azriel was gone in this instant, the Azriel standing before you was the exact picture of the Night Court cold Shadow Singer. 

He ran his hands through his hair, not even realizing he'd spread your mate’s blood over it in his movement. “Look. He's in good hands. Madja’s doing what she can. He doesn't want to see anyone, that's it.” He mumbled, softening his voice this time. 

You couldn't be mad at him. This whole situation probably stressed him out as much as you were. You nod, stepping back from the door to rest your back against the opposite wall for support. You didn't feel like you could currently rely on your legs, as every wail of pain coming from Madja’s room made your limbs tremble. 

Azriel stood beside you, avoiding your gaze as he looked up at the ceiling. “I should've known there would've been an ambush.” 

“Where was Rhys? Where is he now?” You asked, venom was lacing your voice. All that burned inside of you was pure hatred towards the High Lord for his absence. 

And agonizing worry for Cassian’s fate. 

“He and Feyre are away to fix important matters in Day Court.” 

You looked incredulously at Azriel, your face reddening, burning, ready to burst. “So he's not here?! And he relied on you two to handle protecting the Night Court, alone?! All while asking you two to fly all the way to Illyria to fix other issues for him?!” 

Azriel didn't answer, didn't meet your eyes, only looked further away. 

Before you could burst out in anger again, Madja opened the door. She closed the door behind her and pulled out a white towel to clean her hands off the blood. Her eyes traveled between you and Azriel, letting out a long exhale.

She looked drained, exhausted…

“His vitals are stable,” She announced, looking at you as she tried to sound reassuring. 

“His wings?” Azriel asked and you shot him a glance. 

“He's going to live. That's all that matters. Thank you, Madja.” You tried to walk past her, but once again someone stops you from being your mate’s state for yourself. 

You almost growled at her, your instincts screaming to rip the head off anyone stopping you to reach your mate’s side. But the sad smile she wears is convincing enough for you to let her head stay intact. “He's not… Happy with the news…”

“What news, Madja?” You snarl, all muscles in your body tensing. Your hands curled into fists at your sides. 

“Don't look at me like that. I know, I'm ruined.” Cassian whispered weakly, turning his face away from you as you sat carefully on the edge of the bed. 

He still wore a visible frown on his face, his facial features twitching with pain with every move he did. His fractured ribs poked into his lungs with every breath he took.

But none of these aches could compare to the one of his soul. Every time the possibility of never being able to fly came up to the surface of Cassian’s mind, it crashed against him like a wave and drowned him in an ocean of anguish. 

“You're not ruined,” You reached your fingers to his face, gently, yet carefully, stroked his jaw. “Madja said that with time, maybe-”

“I don't HAVE time to waste on “maybe's”!” Cassian roughly shoved your hand away from his face, his still healing lower lip splitting open as he yelled at you. “What do you expect me to do, stay here, in bed, and be useless?!” He was panting with anger at this point. 

Cassian needed to calm down, or else he'd hurt himself even more. You tried to calm him down. “Cassian-” 

“I am nothing, no one, if I waste time rotting in this bed. I'll be useless, and forgotten in no time.” Cassian spat, his words burning you like venom. “What am I, if not a general, mh?” He didn't even give you a chance to answer before hissing through clenched teeth. “An Illyrian bastard.”

Silence fell upon the room, you gulped down your anger, fighting the urge to yell back at your mate. “That is bullshit,” Your voice was trembling, and your eyes burning from the tears you held back there. “You are so much more than just a general.” Cassian snickered coldly at your answer, and rolled his eyes at you. 

Your eyes darkened, this wasn't your Cassian. You refused to believe that this male, this stupid Illyrian about to give up everything, was your mate. Your fists clenched at your sides. “You are my mate, Cassian.” You take a shaky breath, tears rolling down your cheeks this time as you frantically continue your monologue. “You are my mate, Feyre's best friend, Rhysand and Azriel's brother, Nyx's fantastic uncle, and so much more.”

Cassian stays deadly silent, but the silver lining in his eyes mirrors how your words have affected him. You scooch closer to his side, and you intertwine your fingers with his. “We'll get through this. I promise,” 

“And if I lose my wings?” His voice cracks.

“Then we'll get through this too,” Your hand hovers above his heart, careful not to apply too much pressure on his bruised chest. “Your wings aren't what defines who you are. This does,” A breath caught in your throat as you feel the steady and strong heartbeat of your mate. “And I'm so glad it's still beating.” 

Cassian nods, the movement stiffed by his tensed muscles. “I am too…” 

You stayed by his side all night after that, and while Cassian didn't get much sleep because of the pain, your words kept him from drowning in his sorrows. Like an anchor in the middle of a storm, your words kept him together. 

“We'll get through this. I promise.”

We… 

He wouldn't have to do this alone, to fight alone. Not anymore. 

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @mybestfriendmademe

[shisasan]

Picking a single favourite quote might be an impossible task so which quote (or quotes) do you seem to come back to more often than others?

Picking a single favorite quote might truly be an impossible task because there are so many brilliant writers out there whose words have deeply influenced my life. These extraordinary souls have breathed new life into me when I was ready to give up on everything. Without any particular order, these quotes are not intended to enlighten or educate anyone but offer a brief insight into the words I turn to for comfort, inspiration, or understanding when I'm not at my highest self.

I'll begin with my most dearest Hermann Hesse, whom I like to call my Alpha and Omega. He transformed my life from a young age, opening mysterious portals to other worlds and making me feel deeply understood, embraced, with a true sense of belonging. His writing not only awakened my mind to new realms of thought and emotion but also offered immense solace and companionship through his exploration of the human spirit:

"A wild longing for strong emotions and sensations seethes in me, a rage against this toneless, flat, normal, and sterile life."

"I have always thirsted for knowledge, I have always been full of questions."

"We have to stumble through so much dirt and humbug before we reach home. And we have no one to guide us. Our only guide is our homesickness."

Rainer Maria Rilke, a beautiful and tender infinite soul, whose writings deeply resonate with the complexities of the human condition and the relentless quest for understanding:

"I am dark, I am forest."

"I grow strong in the beauty you behold. And with the silence of stars, I enfold your cities made by time."

"Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."

Novalis, who occupies a cherished place in my heart for his poetic and deeply insightful exploration of life and love.

"We are eternal because we love each other."

"I often feel, and ever more deeply I realize, that fate and character are the same conception."

"Sometimes with the most intense pain a paralysis of sensibility occurs. The soul disintegrates—hence the deadly frost—the free power of the mind—the shattering, ceaseless wit of this kind of despair. There is no inclination for anything anymore—the person is alone, like a baleful power—as he has no connection with the rest of the world he consumes himself gradually—and in accordance with his own principle he is—misanthropic and misotheos."

Egon Schiele, whose intense and raw portrayal of human emotion and beauty has deeply moved me, revealing the unfiltered essence of the human experience.

"I must see new things and investigate them. I want to taste dark water and see crackling trees and wild winds. I want to gaze with astonishment at moldy garden fences, I want to experience them all, to hear young birch plantations and trembling leaves, to see light and sun, enjoy wet, green-blue valleys in the evening, sense goldfish glinting, see white clouds building up in the sky, to speak to flowers. I want to look intently at grasses and pink people, old venerable churches, to know what little cathedrals say, to run without stopping along curving meadowy slopes across vast plains, kiss the earth and smell soft warm marshland flowers. And then I shall shape things so beautifully: fields of colour…"

Anaïs Nin, a force of nature and embodiment of feminine strength, whose deep exploration of inner life and boundless creativity has left an indelible impression on me. Her work continues to inspire and challenge me to embrace the fullness of my inner world:

"She was colour, brilliance, strangeness."

"I have the power to multiply myself. I am not one woman."

"Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous."

"I can only connect deeply, or not at all."

Carl Gustav Jung, one of the most brilliant psychiatrists, psychologists, psychotherapists, and empiricists in history. Jung's exploration of the collective unconscious and shadow self has offered me invaluable tools for self-awareness and personal development. His legacy continues to inspire and guide those seeking to understand the depths of the mind and the path to self-discovery.

"A man who has not passed through the inferno of his passions has never overcome them. As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being. Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves."

"People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious."

"The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are."

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the maddening genius with profound understanding of human nature and morality:

"If you want to overcome the whole world, overcome yourself."

"People speak sometimes about the 'bestial' cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel."

"People. People. Endless noise. And I am so tired. And I would like to sleep under trees; red ones, blue ones, swirling passionate ones."

"I exist. In thousands of agonies—I exist."

"If there is no God, everything is permitted."

Virginia Woolf, a literary giant whose deep introspection and exploration of the human condition have left an indelible mark:

"No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself."

"What is the meaning of life? That was all—a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one."

"I want to raise up the magic world all around me and live strongly and quietly there."

"Reality? Reality has never been enough for me."

Mikhail Bulgakov, a masterful writer and playwright, another troubled soul who faced censorship and persecution in his lifetime, with immense talent and a deep soul, fascinated me with his imaginary worlds that blend reality with fantastical elements, feeling both familiar and boundlessly expansive:

"But would you kindly ponder this question: What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared? After all, shadows are cast by things and people. Here is the shadow of my sword. But shadows also come from trees and living beings. Do you want to strip the earth of all trees and living things just because of your fantasy of enjoying naked light?"

"Kindness. The only possible method when dealing with a living creature. You'll get nowhere with an animal if you use terror, no matter what its level of development may be. That I have maintained, do maintain and always will maintain. People who think you can use terror are quite wrong. No, no, terror is useless, whatever its colour – white, red or even brown! Terror completely paralyses the nervous system."

"Everything passes away - suffering, pain, blood, hunger, pestilence. The sword will pass away too, but the stars will remain when the shadows of our presence and our deeds have vanished from the Earth. There is no man who does not know that. Why, then, will we not turn our eyes toward the stars? Why?"

"There are no evil people in the world, only unhappiness disguised as evil."

And then there is indispensable Franz Kafka. Although I have shifted away from his writing in recent years and no longer resonate with it as much, he was a dear friend and frequent company during my darkest, loneliest, and most challenging times. His work, full of raw honesty and insight, offered a kind of companionship that felt both intimate and enduring:

"The way he can risk everything and risks nothing, because there is nothing but truth in him already, a truth that even in the face of the contradictory impressions of the moment will justify itself as such when the crucial time arrives. The calm self-possession. The slow pace that neglects nothing. The immediate readiness, when it is needed, not sooner, for long in advance he sees everything that is coming."

"I, for the most part silent, had nothing to say; among such people the war doesn’t call forth in me the slightest opinion worth expressing."

"You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet." Of course, there are many more authors who deserve to be on this list, but I chose these because they have touched my life in ways that are both unique and deeply personal. I hope that at least some of you will read to the end and find a bit of inspiration and insight in these quotes, just as they have given me. If you’ve made it this far, thank you. 🌹

[lilithsaga]

Is your future determined by fate? Or do you have free will over the choices you make? I wonder what secrets we have left to uncover... 🤔

Check out part 2 of 2 of our adventure! w/@solarisdreamweavervt

[greenwitchcrafts]

December 2023 witch guide

Full moon: December 26th

New moon: December 12th

Sabbats: Yule December 21st-January 1st

December Cold Moon

Known as: Drift Clearing Moon, Frost Exploding Tree Moon, Moon of the Popping Trees, Hoar Frost Moon, Snow Moon, Winter, Aerra Geola, Maker Moon, Heilagmanoth, Long Night's Moon, Oak Moon, Wintermonat, Moon of the Long Night, Little Spirit Moon, Wolf Moon & When the Deer Shed Their Antlers Moon

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Sagittarius & Capricorn

Nature spirits: Snow, Storm, & Winter Tree faeries

Deities: Athena, Fates, Hades, Hathor, Hecate, Ixchel, Minerva, Neith, Norns, Osiris & Persephone

Animals: Bear, deer, horse & mouse

Birds: Robin, rook & snowy owl

Trees: Fir, Holly & Pine

Herbs: Bay, cedar, chamomile, cinnamon, English ivy, evergreen, fir, frankincense, holly, mistletoe, myrrh, pine & sage

Flowers: Christmas catus, holly & poinsettia

Scents: Cedar, cinnamon, frankincense, ginger, lilac, myrrh, nutmeg, patchouli, pine, rose geranium, rosemary, saffron, violet & wintergreen

Stones: Bloodstone, blue topaz, cat's eye, garnet, jacinth, obsidian, peridot, turquoise, zircon, ruby & serpentine

Colors: Black, blood red, gold, green, red, silver, black & white

Energy: Alchemy, darkness, endurance, death & re-birth, higher education, publications, reaching out to others, religion, spiritual paths, travel & truth

Today, December’s full Moon is most commonly known as the Cold Moon—a Mohawk name that conveys the frigid conditions of this time of year, when cold weather truly begins to grip us.

This full Moon has also been called the Long Night Moon (Mohican), as it rises during the “longest” nights of the year, near the December winter solstice. This name is doubly fitting because December’s full Moon shines above the horizon for a more extended period than most full Moons.

In Europe, ancient pagans called the December full Moon the “Moon Before Yule,” in honor of the Yuletide festival celebrating the return of the sun heralded by winter solstice.

Yule

Also known as: Alban, Arthan & Winter Solstice

Season: Winter

Symbols: Baskets of clove studded fruit, Christmas catus,  decorated evergreen trees, evergreen boughs, gifts, gold pillar candles, hung mistletoe, poinsettias, wreaths & Yule logs/small Yule log with three candles

Colors: Gold, green, orange, red, silver, white &yellow

Oils/incense: Bayberry, cedar, cinnamon, frankincense. Myrrh & pine

Animals: Bear, boar, deer (stag), pig, squirrel & tiger

Birds: Eagle, goose, kingfisher, lapwing, owl robin & wren

Stones: Bloodstone, garnet, ruby, alexandrite, blue topaz,  cat's eye, citrine, clear quartz, diamond, emerald, green tourmaline, jet, kunzite & pearl

Foods: Caraway cakes, cookies, eggnog, fruits, ginger tea, nuts, pork, spiced cider, turkey, wassail & lamb's wool (ale,  sugar, nutmeg & roasted apples)

Herbs/plants: Bay, bayberry, birch, blessed thistle, cedar, chestnut, cinnamon, evergreens, fir, frankincense, ginger, holly, ivy, juniper, mistletoe, moss, myrrh, oak, pine, rosemary, sage, valerian & yellow cedar

Flowers: Chamomile, poinsettia & yarrow

Goddesses: Alcyone, Aphrodite, Ameratasu, Bona Dea, Brighid, Cailleach Bheur, Demeter, Diana, Fortuna, Frau Holle, Frau Perchta, Frigga, Gaia, Hel, Great Mother, Idunn, Isis, Ishtar, Kolyada, La Befana, Maat & Tiamat

Gods: Apollo, Attis, Balder, Bragi, Dionysus, Divine Child, Green Man, Helios, Holly King, Horned one, Horus, Janus, Lord of Misrule, Lugh, Mabon, Marduk, Mithras, Odin, Ra, Saturn & Surya

Issues Intentions & Powers: Darkness, divination, light, messages/omens, purification, rebirth/renewal & transformation

Spellwork: Earth magick, happiness, harmony, love & peace

Activities:

• Set up & decorate a Yule altar

• Clean, organize & cleanse before decorating your home

• Make witch's balls to hang on your tree (protective & pretty!)

• Decorate & bless & Yule tree

• Stay awake until dawn to observe the cycles of nature

• Give gifts tomyour family & friends

• Donate your time or helpful items to charity

• Go caroling

• Hang mistletoe in your doorways

• Make Wassail

• Prepare a Yule Log

• Host a Yule feast

• Craft your own decorative wreath

• Decorate your house with Yule colored candles

• Welcome the Sun

• Go on nature walks & leave offerings to nature

• Meditate & reflect on the passing year

“Yule” comes from Old English geol, which shares a history with the equivalent word from Old Norse, jól. Both these words referred to a midwinter festival centered around the winter solstice, which traditionally marked the halfway point of the winter season. After the solstice—the shortest day of the year—the days again begin to grow longer, so it’s thought that Yule was a celebration of the re-appearance of the Sun &the fertile land’s rebirth. 

The celebration of Yule is one of the oldest winter celebrations in the world. Ancient people were hunters & spent most of their time outdoors. The seasons & weather played a significant part in their lives. The customs and traditions associated with it vary widely.

Scholars have connected the original celebrations of Yule to the Wild Hunt, the god Odin, and the heathen Anglo-Saxon Mōdraniht ("Mothers' Night")

Some believe it marks the rebirth of the Sun (the God) from the Earth (the Goddess) & the cold days of winter will soon begin to wane. The Goddess is seen in her virgin Maiden aspect

In towns and cities throughout Sweden during the Christmas season, large goats are constructed out of straw. It is thought that the tradition originated in ancient times, perhaps as a tribute to the god Thor, who was said to ride in a chariot pulled by goats. In Sweden the goat came to be associated with the Christmas celebration, and the Yule goat is now considered by many to be a companion or counterpart to Santa Claus.

Related festivals:

Christmas- An annual festival commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ as the son of God, primarily observed on December 25th

Hanukkah- A Jewish festival commemorating the recovery of Jerusalem & subsequent rededication of the Second Temple at the beginning of the Maccabean Revolt against the Seleucid Empire in the 2nd century BCE.

Hanukkah is observed for eight nights & days, starting on the 25th day of Kislev according to the Hebrew calendar, which may occur at any time from late November to late December in the Gregorian calendar. The festival is observed by lighting the candles of a candelabrum with nine branches, commonly called a menorah or hanukkiah. 

Kwanzaa- An annual celebration of African-American culture from December 26 to January 1st, culminating in a communal feast called Karamu, usually on the sixth day. It was created by activist Maulana Karenga, based on African harvest festival traditions from various parts of West & Southeast Africa. Kwanzaa was first celebrated in 1966. 

A Kwanzaa ceremony may include drumming and musical selections, libations, a reading of the African Pledge & the Principles of Blackness, reflection on the Pan-African colors, a discussion of the African principle of the day or a chapter in African history, a candle-lighting ritual, artistic performance & finally, a feast of faith (Karamu Ya Imani).

Saturnalia-

is an ancient Roman festival and holiday in honour of the god Saturn, held on 17 December of the Julian calendar & later expanded with festivities through to 23 December. The holiday was celebrated with a sacrifice at the Temple of Saturn, in the Roman Forum & a public banquet, followed by private gift-giving, continual partying & a carnival atmosphere that overturned Roman social norms: gambling was permitted & masters provided table service for their slaves as it was seen as a time of liberty for both slaves and freedmen alike.

 A common custom was the election of a "King of the Saturnalia", who gave orders to people, which were followed & presided over the merrymaking. The gifts exchanged were usually gag gifts or small figurines made of wax or pottery known as sigillaria. The poet Catullus called it "the best of days".

Other celebrations:

Feast of Epona-

Eponalia is the feast day of Gaulish Goddess Epona, the Divine Mare & in the time of the Roman Empire it was celebrated on December 18th.

Epona is known to be one of a very few Gaulish deities whose names were spread to the rest of the Roman Empire. This seems to have happened because Roman cavalry units stationed in Gaul followed Her & adopted her as their Patroness. This may have started because many of the cavalry troops were conscripted from Gaul as they were superb horsemen. From Gaul the Romans took Epona with them including to Rome where She was given her own feast day on the 18 December. They worshipped her as Epona Augusta or Epona Regina & invoked her on behalf of the Emperor. She even had a shrine in the barracks of the Imperial Bodyguard.

Hunting of the Wren-

A traditional custom carried out on the Isle of Man on the 26 December, St. Stephen's Day. It consists of groups of people going around villages and towns singing and dancing a traditional song and dance around a decorated wren pole.

The earliest and most common folklore story accounting for the origin of hunt the wren tells of a fairy/enchantress/witch whose beauty lures the men of the Isle of Man to harm, for which she is chased and is changed into the form of a wren. It is therefore in punishment for her actions that the wren is hunted on St. Stephen's Day

Sources:

Farmersalmanac.com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Llewellyn's 2023 magical almanac: practical magic for everyday living

Wikipedia

Encyclopedia Britannica

[myreitha]

So my friend @charminglyantiquated shared a story-game with me that she's working on for @elsewhereuniversity and I became kiiinnnddadaa obsessed so for Christmas I had to make a little surprise for her about for the next letter I sent her.

Without giving spoilers, the narrative features an origami swan with writing on the back, and a special ring and I was like "I CAN DO SOMETHING WITH THAT".

So I did. Pls enjoy my beautiful origami that's hiding SECRETS.

[Image Description 1: A photo of an origami swan. The swan is made of fancy paper with gold detailing, but hiding in the underside of the wing can be seen some handwriting Image Description 2: On the backside of the unfolded swan is a number of quickly scratched notes in different handwritings and annotations in black ink as well as a drawing of a simple ring. There's also faded writing in blue ink that can't be read. One note points to the faded ink and reads "Looks like there might be something up here?" Pointing at the ring is a back and forth between different handwritings "Why a ring?", "Who's is it?", "no idea", "do we need to know?". The last writting at the bottom of the paper is in all caps and reads "These secrets are by season sealed, Only by winter's bite revealed." and had written comments point it it reading "riddle from Canyon, no idea where they got it" and "this is important??" End Description.]

Riddle solution and revealed text and under the cut

The blue writing was written with a temperature-sensitive ink, which was revealed by making it cold - in this case, she stuck it in the freezer, which is exactly what I did when I tested the ink on the paper. The poem is about the central problem of the narrative :)

[Image ID 3: Another look at the back of the paper, now with small, neat cursive writing revealed in blue ink. A poem has been revealed written above and around the ring, and mysterious symbols written on the inside of the ring. The poem reads: "In time of love and trust betrayed, The Queen in birch and sleep had laid. For ruling Knight had little known, that grudges left unchecked had grown. A worthy soul the crows had found, To bring Spring Queen back to her crown. Now revels sing of Queen’s old songs, the friend of crows you find is gone. Replaced by neighbor, form eschewed, Their fate, you find, is up to you. Choose well, dear friend, which path you take, Soon all will know the story you make." End Description.]

[suugarbabe]

Forget me not

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, broken bones

Summary: based off this ask; this will be a short series fic

Your lungs were on fire, but you kept running. Pointing your wand behind you, throwing every defensive spell you could think of toward the figure behind you. You turned down a different corridor, noticing the stone arches above you. You pointed your want toward the ceiling, still sprinting, “Bombarda Maxima!” The stone behind you came crumbling down on top of your attacker. You slowed down to a light jog, seeing an opening in a wall just big enough for you to rest and catch your breath quickly. You heard footsteps nearing and gripped your wand tightly, at this point in your life the birch wood and Phoenix feather core were an extra limb for you. The steps came closer and you did your best to press yourself into the crack in the wall. As soon as you saw a foot in your peripheral vision you muttered a quiet impedimenta, the person immediately tripping and a flash of red hair coming into your vision. 

“Ginny! Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry a death eaters been chasing me for Godric knows how long and I just-” Ginny embraced you in a hug so tight you thought she was going to crack one of your ribs. “Bloody hell, Y/n, I’m so glad to see you,” Ginny pulled away, quickly scanning over you head to toe as you did the same to her. She had some minor cuts on her face, her shirt and jeans covered in small tears and stone dust. You were sure you looked similar. “Have you seen the twins recently? Have you seen Freddie?” You tried to keep your voice from breaking as you asked. Ginny shook her head, “Not since they went with dad toward the towers.” You nodded, pushing any fear or doubt deep down inside along with any tears you feared were to spill. You heard cackling down the next corridor. Ginny grabbed your hand tightly, “We have to go.” 

You and Ginny ran, dodging falling pieces of the castle and throwing spells toward any dark smokey figure you saw in the distance. You forced down the bile that would rise in your throat any time you had to step over a dead classmate, feeling guilty every time you were relieved it wasn’t Fred. You had been blindly following Ginny, not paying attention to where she was running when you came to the steps at the bottom of the astronomy tower. You followed her halfway up the stairs before glancing out one of the stone openings. You saw a giant swinging his curved weapon, flattening a row of stone soldiers in one fell swoop. You watched briefly as an acromantula  picked up three students at once with their pincers, cutting them in half. You couldn’t hold it back this time as you stuck your head through the opening, emptying what little contents were in your stomach. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” Ginny walked back down the steps to check on you. You opened your mouth to speak when it suddenly felt like your head was going to explode. Your eyes met Ginny’s as you started to hear the gravely, burning voice of the one man everyone was fighting to defeat. You have fought valiantly…but in vain, I do not wish this, you looked back over the scene below, noticing everyone looking up at the sky,  every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat, your eyes widened and met Ginny’s again, both beginning to descend the steps quickly. Voldemort's venomous tone continued, in their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. You both headed back the way you came, keeping an eye out for loved ones, alive or fallen. Harry Potter I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you, rather than face me yourself there is no greater dishonor. Your mind immediately jumped to Fred, tears brimming at the thought,  join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man woman and child who tries to conceal you from me. 

The Dark Lord’s voice was gone just as quickly as it had arrived. “The Great Hall,” Ginny stated breathlessly as you continued to run behind her. “What about it?” You questioned. “That’s where they’ll bring them,” she stopped running, turning to face you as you came to a halt, “the dead. They’re going to bring them to the Great Hal-”. You were sprinting past her before she could finish, you’re mind on one thing: not seeing Fred’s lifeless body on a stretcher. You ran past damaged walls, fallen painting and Filch sweeping pieces of stone with a push broom. You entered the Great Hall, slowing to a walk to better scan the faces around you. Your breath caught in your throat when they landed on Remus and Tonks. Tears ran down your face when you noticed their arms still outstretched toward each other. 

“Y/N!” Ginny had finally caught up to you, “have you seen any of them? My family?” You shook your head, looking back toward your fallen friends in front of you. Ginny choked back sobs before both of your names began being called out. “Ginny! Y/n!” You both turned, seeing the Weasley parents running toward you. “Mum! Dad, oh thank Merlin,” Ginny spoke and the Weasleys enveloped you both in their arms. George was right behind them and you captured him in a hug quickly, nearly knocking him over, “I’m glad to see you too, duck.” You pulled back slightly, “And Freddie?” George’s face fell slightly, looking over your shoulder at his parents. You turned to them, neither able to meet your eye. You looked back towards George, seeing Charlie and Bill carrying someone on a stretcher. “No,” your voice was barely a whisper, growing louder and louder as your brain started to realize the situation, “No it can’t be, no, Freddie NO!”  

You moved to run to the stretcher but George held on to you, long arms wrapping around your waist and holding you to his chest, “Let..go of me,” you fought against him, “George let me go, let me go to him…please…I-I need to see him.” George held onto you tighter, slowly sitting down on the ground as your body seemed to go limp in his arms. You turned towards him now, burying your face in the chest of his jumper as sobs escaped you. You felt like someone was squeezing your heart tighter and tighter with each breath, “I-I can’t b-breathe…G-Georgie I c-can’t b-breathe.” George turned you to face him, placing a hand on either side of your face, he forced you to look at him. At the face that looked just like your Freddie’s. Only it wasn’t Fred, you could tell. You were always able to tell. 

By the end of week one you could tell, or at least you could tell which one of them was Fred. Both twins had a singular dimple when they smiled, on their left side; but Fred’s was just a little deeper than George. By the end of year two there were several differences, at least to you. George’s voice was slightly deeper, Fred’s part was just slightly more subtly to the left, and he had a faint beauty mark under his left eye. They both began accumulating little nics and scars on their skin as their pranks grew more extravagant as well. Fred had the smallest of scars on the bridge of his nose after running face first into the stone wall a week before Christmas holiday one year. He and Peeves had just pranked Filch, Fred forgetting that being a poltergeist allowed Peeves to escape through walls, while he just slammed into one. By the end of your sixth year they both had several more scars that helped you distinguish Fred from his twin, including a half inch scar below Fred’s right eye. It was your favorite one because it was the first time he had let you heal him at the end of year two. You had so many opportunities to heal the twins over the years Fred would joke that you should choose that as your profession. 

George tapped your cheek lightly, bringing your attention back to the present. “Y/n, did you hear me, love? Are you listening? Ginny, is there something wrong with her hearing I thought you said you checked each other?” You grabbed his face, you now holding each other, “I’m here Georgie, I can hear you, what did you say?” He swiped his thumb over your cheek, catching another tear before it fell fully, “He’s still alive, duckie. Freddie’s not dead, he’s alive. We just can’t get him to wake.” You never moved faster in your life than you did from your spot towards Fred’s body. Ginny got up, allowing you to kneel right next to him. You scanned his body, gasping as you reviewed his injuries. His left leg was clearly broken, Molly muttering mending and bandaging charms above it. He had numerous cuts and bruises along his chest and stomach, some deeper than others, edges burned black from the types of spells that created them. His right hand and several fingers broken as well, as if someone stepped on it, ceasing his ability to use his wand. His neck was beginning to bruise, you noticed his shallow breaths and checked his pulse as you ran your fingers along his jawline. His upper and low lips were split on opposite sides. What worried you the most was the gash on his forehead, just below his hairline. 

“Is he..?” You looked up to see Ron standing over you, doing his best to hold himself together. You stood up, “He’s alive, but he needs a lot of mending.” Ron did his best to smile at you, “Well then he’s in the perfect hands with you, I reckon he’s given you lots of practice.” You sniffled, nodding. You grabbed on to Ron quickly, not able to control the tears that were falling. He held onto you just as tightly. “I can’t lose him, Ron. I just can’t. I don’t think I can survive without him,” your tears soaking the shoulder of his shirt. “You’re not going to lose him, just stay with him. Do what you do best for him.” You pulled back, wiping your face with the palms of your hands as Hermione sprinted up to your group, “Harry went into the Forest, I-I couldn’t stop him. Luna said she saw Voldemort and the rest of the death eaters walking back toward the castle. They’re leading Hagrid with ropes like an animal. And he’s…” she trailed off, looking over at Ginny. “He’s what, Hermione,” you asked her, snapping her back to the present. “He was carrying someone.”

Ginny started running out of the hall. “Arthur!” Molly pointed towards Ginny; Athur and the older boys followed after her. Hermione and Ron followed quickly after that. You stayed with Fred, Molly staying as well not able to leave her injured son. You took your wand from your pocket, hands hovering over Fred’s stomach, “Vulnera Sanentur.” His cuts started to slowly close. You waved your want over his right hand, “Episkey.” The bones in his hands and fingers snapped back to their rightful place and a mild groan left Fred’s throat, yet he remained unconscious. You leaned down, placing a soft kiss to his cheek before whispering to him, “I’m sorry, Freddie. I know you’re hurting. You are so strong, love. So very strong. I love you so much.” You sat up straight at the sound of cheering just outside the castle. You and Molly made eye contact, silently wondering to each other which side was celebrating. You continued waving your wand over Fred slowly, repeating incantations as you started to feel the energy of both powerful and dark magic around you. 

Several death eaters burst into the great hall, the remaining witches and wizards now defending the injured and helpless around them. “You stay with Fred,” Molly kissed the top of your head and she ran to join the others. You continued working over your boyfriend, glancing up periodically to cast a protection bubble around the two of you every few minutes. You glanced up again, noticing Molly going toe to toe with Bellatrix. The dark witch glanced in your and Fred’s direction, tongue running along her dirty, blackened teeth. Molly then threw a curse at her, Bella deflecting it. But Molly didn’t stop, she went again and again, hitting Bellatrix with a stunning spell, then a tightening spell that caused her corset to squeeze her nearly in half. Molly finished her off with one last curse, hitting Bellatrix directly in the chest causing her to disintegrate into bits. A blood curdling scream erupted from outside the castle, followed by an eruption of cheers. 

You looked down, running your finger tips over your favorite scar across his cheek, “You hear that Freddie, I think he did it. He beat him. We won, Freddie.” Molly joined you again, followed by Arthur and Charlie. “There’s one more thing to try and wake him, but it’s going to take the four of us to make it powerful enough. Do you think you can do it, darling, do you still have the energy?” Molly was looking at you. You nodded, “Anything.” She hovered her wand over her son, you, Arthur and Charlie doing the same. “The reviving spell, on three.” Arthur counted down, “One…two…three.” You waved your wand as the four of you said it simultaneously Rennervate. You could feel the magic burst from your wand, like it was coming straight from your veins and into Fred. You all sat back, waiting to see any signs of further life. You felt a hand on your waist, trying to grasp on to the bottom of your shirt. You looked down, seeing the hand you had healed just an hour before. “Oh thank Godric,” you held his hand in yours and he squeezed back tightly. 

His eyes suddenly opened, a deep gasp escaping his throat as he went to sit up quickly. Arthur and Charlie pushed him back down, holding either shoulder, “It’s alright son, you’re alright. Just breathe. You’re still going to be in quite a bit of pain but Y/n and your mother have healed you well.” You smiled as the tears fell, you were so happy you thought you could burst. The men let Fred sit up on his elbows to glance at the scene around him. He looked at each face of his family members before stopping at yours. You grabbed his hand once more, “How do you feel, Freddie? What still hurts?” He sighed, “I mean everything kind of, but it’s a dull pain. But…I do have a question.” George kneeled down next to his twin, “Anythin’, mate, what is it? You want something to eat? Some fire whiskey to take the edge off?” Fred shook his head, you imagined a million different things he could have asked you all, but nothing could have prepared you for the gut wrenching feeling you got when he made eye-contact with you again before asking,

“W-who are you guys?”

[apoemaday]

Birches

by Robert Frost

When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy’s been swinging them. But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust — Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away You’d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen. They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load, And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed So low for long, they never right themselves: You may see their trunks arching in the woods Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair Before them over their heads to dry in the sun. But I was going to say when Truth broke in With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm I should prefer to have some boy bend them As he went out and in to fetch the cows — Some boy too far from town to learn baseball, Whose only play was what he found himself, Summer or winter, and could play alone. One by one he subdued his father’s trees By riding them down over and over again Until he took the stiffness out of them, And not one but hung limp, not one was left For him to conquer. He learned all there was To learn about not launching out too soon And so not carrying the tree away Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise To the top branches, climbing carefully With the same pains you use to fill a cup Up to the brim, and even above the brim. Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish, Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be. It’s when I’m weary of considerations, And life is too much like a pathless wood Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs Broken across it, and one eye is weeping From a twig’s having lashed across it open. I’d like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate willfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love: I don’t know where it’s likely to go better. I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree, And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again. That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

[wall-legion]

Fan Tree Concept: Shiverpeaks Tree

So a few days ago I was consumed by the idea of "to be loved is to be changed" and started developing the idea of a seed being carried to the Shiverpeaks and taking root there, resulting in a coniferous Tree (and by proxy, sylvari). More information under the snip!

So the basic facts about this tree are as follows:

Like the Pale Tree in the Tarnished Coast, this tree has an avatar: it is male presenting and has been named Pinefather. (I think he sounds like Patrick Page but that may change!)

The seed was planted by a Shining Blade human monk named Laird, after he was separated from the rest of the Shining Blade and nearly died from frostbite/exposure. He was saved from this fate by a norn warrior named Sif, and in the process of her helping him to recover the two fell in love. Laird planted the seed he had taken from the same cave Ronan had found the Pale Tree's seed outside the abandoned haven where Sif cared for him, and the Shiverpeaks tree has grown through the remains of that same haven.

The sylvari from this tree have body patterns and "hairstyles" more akin to the trees you would find in the Shiverpeaks: think pine cones or tassels, maple leaves, birch bark, etc. Less tropical and more "humid continental".

Unlike the Pale Tree, the sylvari from this tree only drop four times a year and thus are sorted by the time of year that they are "born": Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter.

Because of Sif's influence on the seed and their proximity to the norn, these sylvari have their own version of the Spirits of the Wild. They are the Spirit of Rain, the Spirit of Wind, the Spirit of Sun, and the Spirit of Earth. Instead of the Dream, the sylvari commune with these spirits before they awake into the season they're "born" into, and the spirits inform the sylvari of what to expect of the world they're about to join: for example, a Winterborn sylvari might hear "I am Earth. I am frozen and the seeds sleep within me."; "I am Sun. I stay out as long as I can, but I must be fair to the season."; "I am Rain. I fall as snow this time of year and blanket those sleeping within Earth."; "I am Wind. I shake the snow from Pinefather so you do not catch a chill before you awake." Finally, the season the sylvari awakes into is equivalent to the Pale Tree's time of day. And while these are not true for every sylvari born in these seasons, these descriptions are fitting for most sylvari from the Shiverpeak tree.

Springborn sylvari are said to be naive but charming, the kind who will ask a thousand questions about something and then have a thousand more by the time you've answered the first set.

Summerborn sylvari are thought to be naturally gifted at the arts and entertaining other, and there are stories that the first Summer child climbed down from Pinefather's branches by dancing.

Autumnborn sylvari tend to be caretakers: they care for the crops, they care for the sick, or they care for the animals who help them survive. Because of this, Autumnborn are thought to be more serious than their siblings.

Winterborn sylvari seem to be the most shy of the Shiverpeaks sylvari, as they tend to be quieter or more secretive. So there's what I have so far! If I figure out anything more, I'll post it by reblogging this post!

[batmanlovesnirvana]

𝟎𝟎 | 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧.

masterlist

pairing : Bruce Wayne x fem!oc

words : 704

A/N : I just realized I never posted the prologue of this fic here, so here it is! It's short, but I hope you enjoy it.

THE WIND whispered through the ancient birch trees, their silver leaves trembling under the moon's cold light.

Somewhere in the distance, the low hum of the river echoed through the quiet night, its waters winding through time, carrying with them the weight of forgotten secrets. 

The past lingered here, as if the very air held the memories of things long buried, waiting for the right moment to surface.

In the heart of the wilderness stood a grand estate, its towering walls once the symbol of an empire that stretched far and wide. Now, it was a ghost of its former self, cloaked in ivy and shadow, its halls echoing with the footsteps of those who were no longer there. 

In one room, untouched by time, stood a portrait—an image of a family whose eyes seemed to follow you, their painted smiles belying the tragedy that had struck them down. It was said that their bloodline was cursed, marked by betrayal and loss, a curse that had seeped into the bones of the world itself.

But far beyond this place, through distant lands and war-torn fields, another story of sorrow lingered in the wind. A whisper of old wounds, of faces long forgotten, whose cries for justice were swallowed by time. The ghosts of the fallen—of families ripped apart, of innocent lives extinguished too soon—clung to the air, their presence felt but never seen. Their grief resonated with that of the cursed bloodline, intertwining across the centuries, as if the weight of such loss could never truly fade, no matter how deep it was buried.

Whispers of these tragedies drifted from one generation to the next, growing darker with each retelling. It was not simply the weight of power that had crushed them, but something far older, something deeper. Some said it began with a promise made in the dead of winter, others claimed it was vengeance for a forgotten sin. What was certain, however, was that those who bore the name were destined to suffer, doomed to live in the shadow of their ancestors' fate.

Maryam had always felt it—an invisible tether pulling her toward the unknown, a weight she couldn't name. She never believed in the stories whispered in her childhood, tales of a doomed family and their cursed legacy. But the dreams told her otherwise.

They came in relentless waves, visions of a life not her own: a young girl with haunted eyes, a family caught in peril, the sharp crack of gunfire splitting the air. Then, the flash of knives—a brutal end, their souls wrenched from the world in violence. Faces blurred, voices turned to echoes, but the feeling of impending doom was always the same, lingering in the silence after she awoke. 

And within those nightmares, there were others—shadowy figures, silent witnesses to another tragedy, a pain that felt strangely familiar, as though their suffering mirrored her own.

In every dream, the shadows reached for her, pulling her into their depths, as if the past itself was clawing its way through the veil of time, demanding to be remembered.

She didn't know why the dreams haunted her, or why the image of that forgotten family seemed so familiar, as if she had known them once—long before her own life had begun. But as the days passed, the weight of it pressed heavier on her, drawing her closer to a truth she could no longer ignore. There was a secret buried in the past, tangled in the history of a once-great lineage, and somehow, she was tied to it.

The answers lay in the ruins of a forgotten dynasty, in the echoes of a curse that refused to be silenced. 

Maryam didn't yet understand her place in the unraveling, but she would soon learn that the past had a way of catching up to those who tried to escape it.

And in the stillness of the night, as the wind carried the murmurs of the forgotten, she felt it—the weight of something timeless stirring, drawing nearer, as if the very air hummed with fate's unyielding thread. 

Some destinies, she would learn, are woven too deep to be unraveled, etched in shadow and blood.

Chapter one | echoes of the past