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greenwitchcrafts · 4 days ago

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January 2025 Witch Guide

New Moon: January 29th

First Quarter: January 6th

Full moon: January 13th

Last Quarter: January 21nd

Sabbats: None

January Wolf Moon

Also known as: Bear Moon, Center Moon, Chaste Moon, Cold Moon, Disting Moon, Freeze Up Moon, Frost Exploding Moon, Goose Moon, Great Moon, Greetings Moon, Hard Moon Ice Moon, Moon of the Little Winter, Quiet Moon, Severe Moon, Spirt Moon & Snow Moon

Element: Air

Zodiac: Capricorn & Aquarius

Nature spirts: Brownies & Gnomes

Deities: Chang'e, Freya, Hera, Inanna & Saraswati

Animals: Coyote & fox

Birds: Blue Jay & pheasant

Trees: Birch & Hazel

Herbs: Cones, holy thistle& marjoram

Flowers: Crocus & snowdrop

Scents: Mimosa & musk

Stones: Chrysoprase, garnet, hematite, moonstone, onyx, jet, red tourmaline rose quartz & ruby

Issues, intentions & powers: Beginnings, healing, money, protection & strength

Energy: Breaking bad habits, creative expressiveness, energy working to the surface, forgiveness, freedom, friendships, future plans, hrowth, healing, problem solving, purification, responsibility & science

January’s full Moon came to be known as the Wolf Moon because wolves were more likely to be heard howling at this time. Though it was traditionally believed that wolves howled due to hunger during winter, we know today that isn’t accurate.

Howling & other wolf vocalizations are heard in the wintertime to locate pack members, reinforce social bonds, define territory & coordinate hunting. One study recorded spontaneous howls and responses happen most often between 11 p.m. and 6 a.m. .

• According to the Wolf Conversation Center, gray wolves “inhabited most of the available land in the Northern Hemisphere.” Habitat destruction & persecution by humans have reduced their range by about a third worldwide & 90% in the lower 48 states.

Other celebrations:

• Hogmanay: December 31st- January 1st-

Christmas was not celebrated as a festival and virtually banned in Scotland for around 400 years. So it was, right up until the 1950s that many Scots worked over Christmas & celebrated their winter solstice holiday at New Year, when family & friends would gather for a party and to exchange presents which came to be known as hogmanays.

Customs vary throughout Scotland & usually include gift-giving & visiting the homes of friends & neighbors. Another common Hogmanay tradition is to clean the house. Some believe that beginning the New Year with an unclean house may bring bad luck. Traditionally, this would include taking out the ashes from the coal fire.

• Particular attention is given to the first-foot(is the first person to enter the home of a household on New Year's Day and is seen as a bringer of good fortune for the coming year bearing coal to ensure the house remains warm in the coming months & should traditionally be a tall, dark-haired man.)

• Compitalia/ Feast of Lades: January 3-5-

Was an annual festival in honor of the Lares Compitales, household deities of the crossroads, to whom sacrifices were offered at the places where two or more ways met. Dionysius said that Servius Tullius founded the festival, which he describes as it was celebrated in his time. Dionysius relates that the sacrifices consisted of honey-cakes (Ancient Greek: πέλανοι) presented by the inhabitants of each house; & that the people who assisted as ministering servants at the festival were not free men, but slaves because the Lares took pleasure in the service of slaves. He further adds that the Compitalia were celebrated a few days after the Saturnalia with great splendor & that the slaves on this occasion had full liberty to do as they pleased.

During the celebration of the festival, each family placed the statue of the underworld goddess Mania at the door of their house. They also hung up at their doors figures of wool representing men & women, accompanying them with humble requests that the Lares & Mania would be contented with those figures, and spare the people of the house.

• Lunar New Year: January 29th-

The Lunar new year (Commonly referred as Chinese New Year) is one of the most important holidays in Chinese culture marking the end of winter & the beginning of the spring season, observances traditionally take place from New Year's Eve, the evening preceding the first day of the year to the Lantern Festival, held on the 15th day of the year. The new year starts on the new moon nearest the midpoint between the winter solstice & the spring equinox, sometime between January 21 and February 20.

• This holiday has ancient roots in China as an agricultural society. It was the occasion to celebrate the harvest & worship the gods & ask for good harvests in times to come

Each culture celebrates the Lunar New Year differently with various foods and traditions that symbolize prosperity, abundance & togetherness. In preparation for the Lunar New Year, houses are thoroughly cleaned to rid them of inauspicious spirits, which might have collected during the old year. Cleaning is also meant to open space for good will and good luck.

Some households hold rituals to offer food & paper icons to ancestors. Others post red paper and banners inscribed with calligraphy messages of good health and fortune in front of & inside, homes. Elders give out red envelopes containing money to children. Foods made from glutinous rice are commonly eaten, as these foods represent togetherness. Other foods symbolize prosperity, abundance & good luck.

The origins of the Lunar New Year festival are thousands of years old & are steeped in legends. One legend is that of Nian, a hideous beast believed to feast on human flesh on New Year's day. Because Nian feared the color red, loud noises & fire, red paper decorations were pasted to doors, lanterns were burned all night, and firecrackers were lit to frighten the beast away.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2025 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

https://www.edinburghfestivalcity.com/festivals/edinburghs-hogmanay

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 3 months ago

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Hi! Could I request Master/Slave & Dubious Consent for Prince Nuada?

Here you go anon!

“The price for another’s mistake”

Pairing: Prince Nuada/AFAB Reader

Rating: E

Themes: NSFT | Smut

Warnings: Master/Slave aspects | Imbalance of power | Dubious consent | Kissing | Oral sex

Wordcount: 2k words

Summary: After a mortal chieftain insults King Balor, his daughter is sent to Bethmoora to serve its Crown Prince as his slave.

Minors DNI | 18+

“Is this her?” Nuada asked, standing in the entryway to his chambers. “Is this the mortal father sent for my own particular use?”

The elven handmaidens all turned to face him. “She is indeed, my lord,” Nóinín, the chief handmaiden, said. “We have had her bathed and dressed, just as you commanded. She is now prepared for you.”

“Will she obey without question?” Nuada said, his curiosity piqued.

“Indeed, my prince,” the handmaiden said. “You will be well pleased with her, I think.”

“Good,” Nuada replied, stepping into the receiving hall. “You may all leave us now.”

Nóinín leaned in to whisper to you. “Do all that the prince says,” she urged, though not unkindly, “and prove yourself obedient, just like you were obedient with us. Life with him will go all the easier for you if you do.”

The advice was welcomed, and it would be well heeded. “Of course, my lady,” you told her. “I will do all that the prince asks of me.”

The chief handmaiden nodded in approval. She curtsied to the prince. Her ladies curtsied to him also. They rose in unison and departed the chamber in a rustling stream of silk and fur and glittering jewels. Nuada looked at you when the great oak doors leading into his rooms closed behind him, his golden-yellow eyes ablaze.

“I trust I do not need to tell you your position here?” He said, coming even closer.

“You do not, my prince,” you said, daring to lift your gaze for a moment. Nuada was garbed in black velvet robes bound by a heavy crimson velvet sash. A golden pin held it together. His onyx chestplate was adorned with golden inlay that took the shape of the Tree of Life, the sigil of King Balor, and all those he claimed as kin. And he was uncommonly fair to look upon, like one of the divine made flesh. “I have been sent to Bethmoora to serve your family until death or mercy free me.” The prince narrowed his eyes; it reminded you of your proper place and compelled you to lower yours once again. “It is part of my father’s punishment, for he dared to insult your father, the king.”

“Your father forgot himself when in the presence of his betters,” Nuada said, circling you like a wolf circling his prey. He approved of what he saw. Your hair had been bound into delicate plaits adorned with gold, and your robes were of the softest silk to be found. Nóinín and her attendants had done their work well. “And now it is you, his shining heir, who must pay the price for his mistake. Tell me, what is your name?”

“Y/n, my lord,” you said, trembling. The prince was right beside you; you could feel his breath fanning against your cheek, his fingers toying with your hair. The sweet smell of wild clary clung to his garments and armor like perfume. It made your head swim. “Pray what must I do now?”

Nuada regarded you silently before turning sharply on his heel. He strode toward his sleeping chamber, the steel of his boots clicking against the polished basalt floor. “Come with me,” he ordered at length. “It is time I put your willingness to serve to the test.”

You followed him down a wide passageway, silently taking in the splendor all around you. Gilded basalt columns hewn to mimic the twisting boughs of ancient trees rose toward a vaulted ceiling dotted with lamps glittering as brilliantly as the stars in the night sky. They were studded with rubies and emeralds and sapphires that burned like red and blue and green flames against the light. Tapestries depicting the history of the elves adorned the walls. Some held the images of great battles. Others were of peace and feasting, and friendships struck with the old gods. They were all very beautiful, and none of them were beheld by the eyes of a mortal until now.

The prince’s sleeping chamber was at the far end of the passageway. He threw open the door and went in first. “There is white rose cordial in that pitcher over there,” he said, gesturing to an ornate chest in front of a large, canopied bed. A glass pitcher full of a milky-white liquid rested on top of it. Golden goblets and little bowls full of wild strawberries, elderberries, and blackcurrants sat all around it. “Pour some for me.”

“No wine, my prince?”

“Wine dulls the senses. I would much rather keep my wits about me this night.”

You swallowed, but did as you were bid. Nuada did not speak to you. He crossed over to his velvet-canopied bed and sat on the edge. Nevertheless, you perceived his eyes fixed on you intently, following your every move. Here was a warrior who saw much and missed very little, you told yourself.

“Your libation, my prince,” you said, going to Nuada’s side. He accepted the goblet you pressed into his hand. “What would you desire me to do now?”

“Put this away,” the prince said. He drained the goblet in three deep swallows and gave it to you to take. “And bolt that door. I will tell you what I desire from you after you return to me.”

Again, you did as you were told. When you returned to the prince, he held up his hand, a gesture for you to stand where you are. You halted before his outspread legs without hesitation, lowered your head, and clasped your hands before you.

“Nóinín was right,” Nuada murmured, pleased. “You are very obedient. Now y/n, prove yourself to be of further use. Unburden me of my boots and my armor.”

What he expected of you was becoming plainer by the moment. Still, you had little choice but to comply. To do anything else meant punishment befitting one who would dare to disobey an elf of Bethmoora. And Nuada could mete out any punishment he could think of. Thanks to your father and his insult against Balor’s person, the crown prince could treat you however he wished.

The first item to be removed was his chest plate. “Stay still, my prince,” you said softly, your hands shaking as if they were nothing but disjointed thumbs. They fumbled while dealing with satin and steel. Even so, you managed to loosen and undo them all, and the prince sighed in relief when you lifted it over his raised arms and set it down on the ground beside you with a soft thud. “May I remove your boots now?” you inquired, trying not to linger on the dull throb you felt in your wrists. The chest plate was heavy. You were beginning to understand why Nuada was grateful to be free of it.

“You may.”

You sank to your knees as gracefully as you could. Nuada leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs. He watched you while you set yourself to the task of lifting his feet one by one and divesting them of the boots that shielded them from dirt and mud and worse. They slipped off his legs with ease. You regarded them discretely. The leather possessed a softness you had never felt before; it felt like butter against your palm. It was another aspect, simple as it was, that set elves apart from mortals. No mortal hand had the skill to produce such fineness in anything.

“It is done, my prince,” you said, placing the boots beside the armor. You looked up at him, your tasks completed, your hands folded neatly on your lap, and you added, “What duty must I perform now?”

Nuada’s lips curled up at the corners. “Take off my sash,” he husked and sat up straight. His hands moved to the sides of his knees. They gripped at the edge of the featherbed, a visible sign of his anticipation over what was about to take place. “And come even closer. It is time we found another use for that pretty mouth of yours.”

A flash of heat crept up your throat. “Of course, my prince,” you said, reaching out to remove the golden pin resting against his sash. It was large and unwieldy, but you managed to unfasten it all the same, and the sash besides. They joined the pile of raiment beside you. Then you paused, hesitated. There would be no going back after this, no undoing of what took place between you and the prince. The notion frightened you and made you forget your vow to obey.

The prince, sensing your uncertainty, bent down and gripped your chin. “You think this is too much,” he began sweetly, brushing his thumb over your lips. It forced its way between them, making you gasp. The prince smiled. It was as if he enjoyed it. “Perhaps you hope to sway me into letting you be. That will never be, y/n. You are my slave now. You belong to me. I can take you right there on the floor, and there is nothing you can do to hinder me. Spare yourself this fate. Pleasure me as I ask and when I ask, and you will not be subjected to my wrath. Is that understood?”

He did not have to resort to further threats; what he said was more than enough already. “I will make myself more amenable to your pleasure,” you promised meekly. Anything was preferable to being taken wholly against your will. “And I will pleasure you just as you have asked me, my prince.”

Nuada, satisfied, signaled for you to continue. You drew back the folds of his robes, exposing well honed flesh marred by much violence, and undid the clasps going down his breeches. The prince muttered a soft curse when his erection was freed from the confines of his clothes. He looked at you almost in affection when you girded yourself and took his length to hand.

Knowledge of the act was not unknown to you. You had heard much and even seen more than you should, when a feast full of revelers deep in their cups went too far. And you put what you knew to good use, tightening and releasing, tightening and releasing. The prince moaned softly. He threw his head back, baring his throat. His hair fell down past his waist and onto the furs beneath him. It gleamed like a waterfall of molten silver against the light.

“You are familiar with the arts of love,” Nuada whispered, his voice already thick and coarse with need. “But your touch alone is not enough. Do more, y/n. Do what I asked you to do. Use your mouth, and your tongue. Go on.”

The sound of his pleasure spilled rich and golden into the air when you clutched onto what courage you had left and sank your mouth down his cock. And all that you felt took some getting used to: the heaviness pressing against your tongue, the little ridges that brushed against your lips, the hollowing of your cheeks, your hands moving in rhythm with your mouth. Milky white beads formed at his tip. They tasted bitter when you kissed them away.

“Does this please you, my prince?” You stopped long enough to speak. “Am I doing well?”

“Very well,” Nuada said. He said no more after that. Then again, no more words were needed. He brushed his hand over your hair, letting your braids slip around his fingers. Then he pushed your head back down, forcing you to swallow him to the hilt. A strangled sound rose at the back of your throat. It so unraveled the prince that he shuddered and climaxed without warning, and spurt after spurt of his seed filled your mouth.

“Swallow it all,” Nuada growled. He struggled to regain his bearings and open his eyes. “Swallow my seed. Then you may stand.”

It was an unpleasant thing, swallowing his spend. It was bitterer than what you tasted before, and it felt unpleasant as it flowed down your throat. Still, you did as he asked of you, and rose to your feet. “What would you have me do now, my prince?”

Nuada rose also. He gathered you into his arms and kissed you deeply. It was far from tender, more for his pleasure than yours, but the heat from his mouth and the sweetness clinging to his tongue left you more than a little breathless all the same.

“Undress me fully,” he said. “Then you will undress yourself and join me in bed. As my slave, you must be by my side at all times.”

#kinktober #dead dove do not eat #nsft #prince nuada #prince nuada x reader #prince nuada smut #x reader #reader insert #reader insert request

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