#they are so red blue fire ice winter summer coded

[teamunee]

don’t you nooootice how!!!

#gayun #chongming #what’s the ship name? #chongyun #ga ming #ga-ming #gaming genshin impact #omg this ship is so crazy to me #they are so red blue fire ice winter summer coded #twitter went insane over this too haha #merry christmas eve!! #genshin impact

[svs-oc-babbles]

In the sims I'm trying to make bedding more appropriate for my characters, and also just more interesting in general tbh.

Currently I'm working on bedding for the Quads, or rather, the two sets of twins: Fox & Dean and Raven & Jade. I thought it would be easy, they've each always been specifically season, element, and color coded;

Fox: Lightning/Electricity/Autumn, Yellow and dark blue

Dean: Fire/Summer, Black and Red

Raven: Ice/Snow/Winter, Light Blue and White

Jade: Earth/Trees/Spring, Green and Brown

I'm surprised with how difficult it's been to find fabric patterns that fit Raven and Jades themes!. Especially Jades has been difficult, everything is too floral and not... Earthy enough. Probably doesn't help that Jades theme is so broad and vague. Raven is more than just snowflakes and snowmen, and he's certainly not Christmas themed at all, so it's been rough finding things on brand. I've had some luck looking up fractals and geometric wallpaper though, but the poor boy is going to get mostly solids.

[thatwitchyaunt]

Makeup for Magick/Ritual: Imbolc

So, this is a post that got taken own off of reddit because, apparently, a post about makeup as a tool in witchcraft is not... about... witchcraft? Okay? Anyway, this is the copy/paste of the original first post and the rest of this series will be here, so I hope you enjoy. And to anyone coming here from r/witchcraft, welcome to the absolute hot mess that is The Whatever Book!

“Well, here we go! The first post in (hopefully) a series that some of you were surprisingly interested in! Not gonna lie, I thought it would get a bunch of downvotes and that'd be that, but here we are! Before I start, quick disclaimer: My current phone is a 3S, so the pictures aren't the... best quality. But it's what we're working with. Now let's get into it!

So, quick cheeky recap of what I said in my original post: My other passion besides witchcraft is makeup. It's how I express myself artistically and I often use themed makeup looks as a way to celebrate the sabbats, doubling as offerings on Imbolc and Lammas/Lughnasadh. Sometimes, I even incorporate themed looks into spellwork in the same way I would decorate an intention-specific altar. (I fully blame Ms. Frizzle for my love of themed/inspired-by makeup looks, btw.) Now let's get into the post! First sabbat: Imbolc.

Generally, my rituals focus on the more fiery aspect of Lady Brighid on Imbolc; so reds, oranges and yellows are what I reach for. Depending on what you focus on (cleansing/purification, healing, the returning warmth, prep for Spring, new growth, etc), what you choose may be way different. So lets take a peek at the palettes I have in my collection that I can see fitting this coming up sabbat, starting with Colourpop!

Here we have the "Uh Huh, Honey" palette, the "Orange You Glad?" palette and the "Main Squeeze" palette. I'd use these three together for my more fiery looks, but "Uh Huh, Honey" could be paired with a more icy look if your focus is on the returning warmth.

Speaking of! This is the "Going Coconuts" palette, "Blue Moon" palette, "Mint to Be" palette and "Just My Luck" palette.

"Going Coconuts" is definitely a good, affordable neutral palette for Imbolc. It's neutral, but can lean on the icier side thanks to the shade "Palm Reader". Add a pop of yellow from the "Uh Huh, Honey" palette and you're set for a "returning warmth" look.

Then there's the "Blue Moon" and "Mint to Be" palettes, which are both good for the more healing/cleansing aspects of Imbolc. "Blue Moon" can go icy (and be paired with "Uh Huh, Honey" for the returning warmth), or can be used to represent Brighid's healing/cleansing waters. The shades in "Mint to Be" are somewhere between wintery greens and spring greens, so perfect for Imbolc! These mints give me very "fresh and clean" vibes, and also would not be out of place on a set of nurse scrubs. More gentle healing than "Blue Moon".

"Just My Luck" is your girl if you're going for the green of "new growth". Try pairing with "Mint to Be" for a more interesting green look.

The last CP palette I'd look at is the "Yes, Please" palette. It's a descent dupe for the Give Me Glow "Extra Spicy" palette if it's sold out. This is Colourpop's original eyeshadow palette and has those fiery tones I reach for this time of year.

Then, onto the Give Me Glow palettes, there's the "Extra Spicy" palette. I would reach for this one over the "Yes, Please" palette, because it's a better formula and is multi-functional. "Mild", "Spicy Peach Martini" and "Habanero" make for really great blushes and "Ghost Pepper" is a really cool fiery-yellow highlighter. This is being discontinued, however, so If you want it you need to grab it while you can. 10/10, would absolutely recommend!

Next is "The Grunge" palette and the "Sweet & Sticky" palette. Both are descent neutral/nude palettes for this time of year (if you aren't like me and are down for to look like a "Happy Clown") "The Grunge" palette has some interesting matte pops and has two metallics that could lean either warm or cool depending on what you pair with it. It's currently out of stock, and I'm not sure if it's coming back? This past Black Friday, they had it labeled as "discontinued" but I'm not 100% sure.

"Sweet & Sticky" is a cinnamon bun themed palette, and the colors are spot on! I absolutely consider cinnamon buns to be an appropriate food for Imbolc, what with the white icing (melting snow) paired with the cinnamon filling (warmth) in the roll (earth). An excellent small palette for neutral lovers, and "Icing Drip" and "Sweet Cinnamon Latte" are good highlighters depending on your skin tone.

The last Give Me Glow palette is the "Summer Vibes" palette! Specifically for the shades "Orange Soda Pop", "Mango Margarita" and "Sunny". Again, for the fiery aspect of the Sabbat. All the shades in this palette are available in singles, but I'd say just get the palette if you're interested in it. This will definitely come up again in my post for Litha/Summer Solstice, no doubt about it.

Now onto BH Cosmetics! We'll start with the two bigger palettes I chose this time around: "The Zodiac" palette and the Holiday 2020 "Naughty" palette. "The Zodiac" is a that cool with a pop of warm that fots the Sabbat, and the formula is gorgeous! The middle shade is a baked highlighter as well, and looks great on fair/light skintones (don't ask me about deeper skin tones, since I'm out here looking like Casper the Friendly Ghost and have absolutely no clue).

The "Naughty" palette... I'd say it's the only holiday palette that I've seen in the past few years that a brand actually put any real thought and effort into. And the formula's 10/10, so well done, BH! If you want to do a warm tone or cool toned Imbolc look, it's got you. If you want to do a fiery look, it's got you. If you want to do an icy with a pop of fire look, it's got you. It can be used all year round, too, which is pretty great, and you can use it as a sort of anchor palette for different looks. The day I'm writing this (January 18-19, 2021) it's on sale for 60% off, so only $12, and I honestly think you should snatch it up. Definitely going to be showing up in my Yule/Winter Solstice post.

On to the smaller BH palettes! First batch are "Love in London", "Smitten in Switzerland" and "Chillin' in Chicago". These are the three more neutral/"wearable" (eff, I hate that word) palettes in the BH Travel Series. There are a couple more like this, but they'll pop up in later posts.

"Love in London" can go either warm or cool depending on the shades you use, but either way, the tones are deep enough to fit the winter season we're still in.

"Smitten in Switzerland" is more cool-toned, muted-colorful palette with a bright pop. My favorite sage green eyeshadow look is from this palette. Outside of any Sabbat uses, I genuinely cooked up an entire scenario based solely on the vibes of the palette. Like, this is the palette you'd wear if the world was no longer on fire, and you and your family decided to go to a ski lodge for a weekend. You're no winter sports kind of Witch, no skiing or snowboarding for you (you're not here to break all the bones in your body so, hard pass). Instead, you sit by the lodge's fireplace/hearth wearing a cute and cozy sweater, perhaps some cute boots. Maybe you're reading a book or on a laptop/phone/whatever with a mug filled with a hot beverage of your choice, possibly spiked. And there you stay, looking like a cute snow bunny while you wait for the rest of your family to be done nearly getting themselves killed on the slopes.

*Cough cough* Now back to the post... Eh-heh...

"Chillin' in Chicago" is the palette to grab for a muted fiery look. Still has some color to it, but nothing as intense as, lets say, the "Extra Spicy" palette. Great alternative.

Now for the two bright/colorful palettes from BH's Weekend Vibes series. "Avocado Toast" and "Blueberry Muffin". "Avocado Toast" has your greens/warm browns with a pink and yellow pop that'd work great for any "new growth" symbolism. Meanwhile, for my fellow New Englanders, "Blueberry Muffin" gives us those more icy tones for the foot of snow we usually get on, or around, Imbolc. Any other New England Witches just look at that whole "new growth" bit when they first got started and went "B!tch, how?!" ...No? Just me? Side note, "Decadent" is the exact shade of the stain from blueberry juice and that made me idiotically happy. Don't ask, cause I don't know either.

The Shroud Cosmetics "Creepy Cute" palette! Widely considered one of the best pastel palettes on the market (Use code BEAUTBEAN fo 10% off! Did I just plug one of my favorite beauty YouTubers Why yes, yes I did...), it's insanely pigmented! "Void", "Tombstone", "Creep It Real", and "Cold Shoulder" can help you with colder, more wintery looks. "Cold Shoulder" and "Creep It Real" could be used for healing/purification if that's your ritual focus, and "Third Eye" and "Strawberry Milk" could both be used as crease/blending shades for a more fore-based look.

These three are my mainstream "if color is not your jam" palettes. The Tarte "Tartelette Toasted" palette, and the Anastasia Beverly Hills "Soft Glam" palette and "Sultry" palette.

The "Tartelette Toasted" palette is your neutral fiery palette. It gives a nice orange-red "toasted" look that fits the Sabbat well. Not my first choice, but if you're looking for a "basic b!tch" warm palette, she's your girl.

"Soft Glam" and "Sultry" are more warm tone vs. cool tone. If you want a more "cold, thawing earth" vibe, "Sultry" is the way to go. If you want to get it, I think it's only available in bundles on Ulta and the ABH website (but it's like.. half off in Ulta sooooo....). And "Soft Glam", obviously, for the warmer aspects of the Sabbat.

Now, on to my single shadows!

The top five are from Shroud Cosmetics. The first four (left to right) would be good for a fiery look), while the last one would be good to use for a water look/pop.

"World Eater" (Drool-worthy metallic red), "Ignite" (coppery orange metallic), "Vigil" (yellow-gold metallic), "Oracle" (light gold "inner corner highlight" type of metallic), "Sea of Ghosts" (medium blue metallic with a gold shift).

The bottom one is from Colourpop in the shade "Glass Bull", which is the perfect inner corner highlight for icier blue/purple looks.

Last, but certainly not least, my Give Me Glow Singles!

The amount of times I had to curate these singles so they would fit into one large palette.. I just... That's why this took three years to figure out. Anyways, I have a few different color stories in this palette, so stick with me more a second.

*Row 1 (L-R)*

"Marshmallow" - White matte. Pretty basic.

"Halo" - White metallic with baby blue and gold shifts. Perfect inner corner pop of sun for icy looks.

"Satellite" - Straight up silver metallic. If the Tin Man is your fashion icon, this'll do ya.

"Bubbles" - Icy blue metallic.

"Sky High" - Bright sky blue matte. Not pictured because mine came broken, but it's legit the perfect Imbolc blue.

"Blue Jeans" - Muted grey-blue metallic.

*Row 2 (L-R)*

"Cream Please" - Basic cream shade.

"Spring Break" - Green-blue with gold shift.

"Kiwi" - Kiwi Green. What it says on the tin.

"Joker" - Olive green metallic with lime undertones.

"Patty"- Just a true green matte.

"Space Dust" - Deep Smokey true grey.

*Row 3 (L-R)*

"On Ice" - Pale champagne nude metallic.

"Highlight" - Pale champagne gold metallic.

"Lucky Charm" - Golden yellow metallic.

"Fierce" - Pale orangy peach matte.

"You're Cheesy" - Mac and cheese orange metallic.

"Low Battery" - True red orange matte, more on the red side.

*Row 4 (L-R)*

"Selfie" - Burnt golden orange metallic.

"Hashtag" - Grungy medium toned orange matte.

"Chili" - Deep blue based rusty red matte.

"Icy Frap" - Icy warm champagne metallic with taupe undertones.

"Iced Coffee" - Deep bronze gold metallic.

"Dark as My Soul" - Grungy deep warm brown matte.

Now on to the color stories:

*Color Story 1* Icy Blue with a sunny gold pop on the inner corner (returning warmth)

Marshmallow, Halo, Satellite, Bubbles, Sky High, Blue Jeans, Space Dust.

*Color Story 2* Greens (new growth)

Cream Please, Spring Break, Kiwi, Joker, Patty, Space Dust, On Ice.

*Color Story 3* Brighid's Fire

Highlight, Lucky Charm, Fierce, You're Cheesy, Low Battery

*Color Story 4* Warming earth (warm tone browns)

Selfie, Hashtag, Chili, Cream Please, Highlight.

*Color Story 5* Frozen earth (cool tone browns)

Icy Frap, Iced Coffee, Dark as My Soul, Marshmallow, Halo.

And that's that for Imbolc! Holy crap, that took ages! The pictured do not do these shadows justice. One day I'll have a phone with a properly functioning camera...

Well, Glamour Ghouls (you can boo me, it's fine), it's your turn to shop your stash and get those creative juices flowing! Is there anything in your collection that you'd grab for Imbolc? Sound off in the comments and let's inspire each other!”

#Makeup for Magick/Ritual #imbolc #are all mods power tripping assholes? #or just the one i had to deal with? #travel witchcraft #sabbats #broom closet #witchcraft #magick #rituals

[beyondtheciouds]

30. 3a of 3.

The smell was dreadful; awful if Lucie were being completely honest. The murky and musty contents of the little black cauldron were bubbling; steaming the smoke; liquid congealing and spilling over the side like lava from a volcano.

Lucie felt as if she were standing on a cliff, looking curiously over the edge. Nauseated from the height and smell. Skin clammy; shocked from the cold. The first thing she could see over the billow of greenish blue smoke were birds.

Not just any birds.

A cardinal. A raven. And a crow.

The cardinal was a convenient contrast to control the timing. He was a stark and standard blotch of color in an otherwise pale sky. The bird was a blood stains blooming on a white carpet of overcast clouds.

Three.

The crow and raven were spies ( Lucie presumed ) and they smudged the thick, calming wall of London's gray smog with their presence. Lucie noted the cardinal's color was disintegrating; red vanishing into the intense oranges and brilliant golds of the early stages of sunrise.

Whistles -- return calls of curiosity sounded on the high wind and meant only one thing; someone else was watching from above.

The caws and cries echoed in Lucie's ears and sliced the cryptic air like knives. Each, individual call was like a whispered secret between the here and now. Warnings and premonitions from the dead designed to put Lucie on edge.

Gast. Nate. Belial.

Ghostly fingers tapped her shoulder. Struck, she spun around, her skirts swirling and opening like an umbrella. Her sole intention was to strike, but her body betrayed her Shadowhunter confidence and she shook with absolute fear. Sweat glistened in the eerie yellow light on her cheeks and forehead. Still feeling skeletal digits touching the ends of mousey curls, she had wanted to scream. Her mouth clamped shut as the figures carelessly yanked the curls from their pins, tresses tumbling down her back.

Tiny hands trailed the hems, touching the surface of the stitches. Lucie did not recognize the imprint of ghostly fingers tugging on the frozen fabric and lifting the edges of her skirts.

Lucie thought she was going mad.

Cold. Cold. Cold and dead. Cold and dead. You will be cold and dead. Every one will be cold and dead. You will be cold and dead.

White-washed; let go of me. Decaying skeletons, be gone! Lucie thought, imagining how the light could make the trees more than evergreen. More green than Jesse's eyes.

Her palms began to sweat and her skin was itchy as the black birds watched with unblinking and beady eyes. The lone cardinal was contorting his mohawked head wildly to the side as James lit another fire at the east end of the circle.

Three; Trinity. A triangle.

The trial: Judge. Jury. Executioner.

Three fires burning. Three souls left in mourning.

Lucie watched with unease as James's hand trembled and he returned to his place beside Cordelia. He had flinched as he struck the last match; bright color rendering the tiaga quiet.

Then the long whispererers started; spineless spirits tuned to the deaf in the summer sun, they spoke independently and freely now. Many echoed -- shut-in emotions were blurred past by thoughts; blotted out words ringing in her ears like ink smudges on thin paper. These dreams; these catchers were hatched in the dark crevices of many missing tombstones.

All hidden under the forest floor.

Spirits of all ages sang; restless souls struggling for a voice were more likely to be gossiping in the cold months of winter when time was running slower.

Lucie strained to listen. They were chanting; changing the words without restraint.

Unmarked, unnamed graves were dressed as brides and grooms in moss and snow hidden from their partners. Lucie could hear the echoing of the past; drumming hearts beating beneath the frost and ice.

Lucie's heart skipped a beat and the sentiment of sobs was stirring in her throat; overwhelming her senses like potent incense.

Today it truly felt like a winter morning; dreams and dread filled the space between her heart and the dead oak trees. Lucie knew those trees should have been teaming with life but they were now stark and bare; their branches twisted like spiral staircases reaching towards the sky.

Fingers beckoning the dead.

Welcoming Jesse.

Lucie wondered where the autumn had gone. Why had winter come so fast, she thought as she watched her friends shiver and shake from the cold beneath their gear. Grace had told them all to stand quietly in the massive circle while she floundered aimlessly through the pages of a dark book.

Anticipation ran through Lucie's bones; the thrill sidewinding the winter chill and reminding her of the consequences to her course of action. If the Clave uncovers us, we're doomed, she thought gloomily, changing like a changeling. A frown tilted her mouth as she reluctantly tore her gaze away from James. To her surprise, he had been watching Lucie with something inbetween pity and anger sweeping over his features.

If this worked. IF.

Grace was undeterred by Lucie's previous insecurities, particularly about Charles. Lucie had confided that she was mostly concerned about his knowledge of their ventures.

Grace had placed her hands on Lucie's shoulders; her touch burning like ice through the heavy wool. She casually assured Lucie that Charles knew nothing and all was well. The goosebumps had grew like berries on Lucie's arms under the heavy coat long after Grace had removed her hands.

"Join hands," Grace said now, her voice steady and solid, carrying the weight of authority even as her face was growing hot. Her velvet collar was tight beneath the layers of clothing she wore.

Lucie had half expected Grace to show up in a black cape and was slightly disappointed she hadn't. Grace coughed, her eyes gray and stony like a slab of concrete. Her throat, hot was parched; dry and burnt from the searing colored smoke she tried not to inhale.

Grace tried to think about anything else but disentangling the spell. She knew she was rushing the ceremony; moving far too fast for someone so inexperienced in dark arts.

Time was of the essence to free Jesse. He could not wait a day longer.

Lucie had glanced at her several times with one eyebrow raised in question. It was as if she too, felt that the ceremony was rushed.

Grace was impatient and demanding. She muttered under her breath as she moved to the center of the group. By being in the center, she felt she were claiming some type of control over her peers. She stood beside the ghost of her brother, unbothered by Alastair and Cordelia's occasional harsh glares shot like bullets in her direction.

Grace didn't care that they hated her or that James stood like a statue and ignored her. Lucie trusted her and that was all she cared about at the moment. Even if James did not approve or agree with the sentiment, Grace deemed his opinion made no immediate difference now. Especially not when she was so close to returning Jesse to his body.

Time is of the essence, she reminded herself woefully as the sun peeked out from behind the hills. She licked her bottom teeth carefully, reading an rereading as her fingers slipped uneasily along the page to the start of the spell. She was painfully aware James was watching her like a hawk; a bird of prey with his gold eyes boring into her like fated stars.

He was angry with her and Lucie, she knew. Lucie had told Grace as much on the long walk through the woods.

Every night since he'd arrived Grace had been painfully aware of James Herondale.

Angry and distant he'd become. So she matched his stance, pretending to be in love with Charles. Grace knew all too well the feelings were still raw in James's heart because she felt the anguish too.

The book was an heirloom given unexpectedly to Grace when she was eleven. A sinister purpose for the book was designed; evil crested on the cover and between the two hundred pages of Benedict Lightwood's horrors.

The Lightwood flames were crudely drawn on the cover and the words: Salvatoris Iesu Christi. Pater. Benedicite Lucifer were burned into the binding. Sharp and folded the corners of certain pages. The sleek cover was black as night; a leathery hide that made Grace's skin crawl.

Once, Grace had been terrified of the book. She'd refused to read it. Even touching the binding was out of the question. Frightened was a loose term for the way Grace had felt.

Now, she traced and thumbed the yellowed pages with precision; ancient spells crudely written and inked in Benedict's tainted blood. The results of the pagan spells these pages contained were not easy to achieve on any surface. Even experts like Magnus had trouble deciphering some of the handwriting. Lopsided and loose with letters; possessed was the man who wrote this novelty. Grace surely would have presumed the man who'd written these pages was illerate at best or insane at worst, but she knew much better.

The apple was not far from the tree.

Codes were contained and covered within the spells, Tatiana had taught her. All you had to do was look with keen eye.

Another language hidden in plain sight; reversals spelled out with unusual and ancient runes.

Grace had memorized each rune and spell as a young girl. Tatiana had insisted teaching her.

Most spells were high in the risky and raptuous department. The devious spells usually asked for a bridge between life and death; a living sacrifice to the sacred ground the spirits walked on.

A life for a life.

Some, lesser risk involved, asked for a particular demon to be conjured prior to engaging in the spell. General guidance was issued as a warning at the beginning in plain, capitalized English.

Others, written as if the writer was tired and breathless, were simply hard to read. The Spanish and Latin were mixed and jumbled together. Or, still others that Grace had found among the two hundred pages had merely asked for chemical intervention. Ingredients were required to evade a catastrophic miscommunication between the dead and the living.

More sacrifices.

Grace had known them all by heart; written every word until her fingers bled. The Resurrection spell was one such instance that had been more than painful to learn. Multiple times she'd memorized the words; written them down over and over but she couldn't recite the words right. No matter how hard she tried. Lucie's attempts at the ancient Latin proved to be worse.

Grace knew tonight there was a fifty percent chance she'd mispronounce a word and lose Jesse to the Underworld. Still, the reward was greater than the risk. Having him living was a chance Grace was willing to take.

Once Jesse was alive, they'd make plans..she was sure he'd go anywhere with her. Together, they would leave Idris and the world of Shadowhunters for good. Grace would take Jesse to the States, she decided on impulse. Lucie could come too. She had grown to actually like the other girl during their time bonding over necromancy.

Grace furrowed her moonlit eyebrows; her stone eyes configuring the letters within the ancient Latin. The penmanship was very lopsided and narrow; droplets of inky blood converted to smears. Lines and stains coated the edges defiantly.

Grace groaned, disgusted with herself and the old language. "Where is it?"

Jesse smiled at her calmly; serene as usual. "It's there Grace. Keep reading. " He returned his gaze to Lucie, watching her fidget in the cold.

Grace huffed, frustrated as she thumbed the text, ignoring the longing looks her brother shared with the Herondale girl.

The words seemed to come alive and jump off the pages in Grace's vision. The text was distorted and dizzying to her naked eye and she suddenly felt ill.

Thomas cleared his throat, drawing Grace's attention. His golden brown eyes had been watching her quite quizzically for some time. He had already guessed the book had been Benedict's; an heirloom that should have been Anna's, his or Christopher's by birthright.

Thomas couldn't put his head around why of all people Grace had this book. Did she steal it? He wondered, his mind wandering.

It was the first time Thomas's mind had acknowledged that this resurrection was for his cousin. Jesse Blackthorn was a first cousin. Family.

"I can decipher, Grace. I am fluent in both Spanish and Latin. The words should not be too hard to sort out. Let me help."

Grace was seized by Thomas's hazel eyes when she looked up from the passage she was regarding with doubt. "Oh. Thomas. It is not necessary. I am able to decipher these pages myself."

"I insist," he said using his firm smile to persuade her. The filmy look he gave her unnerved Grace; secretive. He winked and commanded her utmost attention by the way his shoulders seemed to take up space. As if pulled by gravity, she walked to him. Facing him, she quickly handed him the book. "Alright," she said quietly, uncertain as if she was giving away a family secret.

Thomas tried to hire a smile, but he came up short. He grimaced, holding the book like it was a complication of the past. His hands, large and calloused gripped the leathery cover as though he wanted to drop it.

The others were quiet and held hands as Thomas read aloud the words after a minute or two of staring at the text. He was shivering as coyotes and wolves howled in the distance.

The seven sins closed their eyes simultaneously as Thomas lifted the book in his palms like a priest. He raised the devil's work into the dawn, finding the passage with oncoming light.

The hem of Grace's seafoam skirt glittered like scales; colored cool like an imagined seashore, her hand raised tulle wings in the wind as she danced around the soul of Jesse.

Grace was humming a song Thomas didn't know, so he focused in the spell.

Lucie thought that odd.

Word for word, Thomas Lightwood became apart of something terrible. The history of his grandfather had haunted his father and now Thomas was determined. The past was larger than he had ever expected or encountered. He recited the scrambled Latin as Christopher handed Grace the tube. She blew a kiss into her palm as she poured the fizzing liquid over Jesse.

Jesse was glowing.

A butterfly in motion; gracefully detached in detail the tohead girl was. If she had looked over her shoulder, she would have seen him. Nate, hiding in the shadows was impressed by her uncanny ghostly beauty. She resembled his beloved, Jessamine so closely. He watched Grace with a renowned new interest, thinking her quite useful to his plan. Lucie, however didn't miss a beat. She'd seen those hypnotic and haunting blue eyes in the brush. She hushed Nate, snarling at the skeletal face.

Nate laughed, his grin spreading. Teeth, yellowed and broken rising out of his gums of wax.

Jesse stood quiet; unmoving as the spell told hold. He was in this forest of Brocelind he'd called a secret home. His face depicted thoughts of childhood hope as his dark hair slipped into eyes.

Grace's intentions were instantly crushed and she dropped the glass tube. It shattered like her heart.

"Jesse," she offered, "you are sure you want to do this?" How could she ever be so selfish not to think of his plans?

"Yes," he said glancing at Lucie. "Keep going." He sounded desperate; asking for this chance of one in a million.

Grace frowned, thinking she saw a strangled look at Lucie. Jesse made Grace's small frame a silhouette against the sun. "Alright." She took a deep breath, preparing herself for disaster. "Here we go. Thomas,please begin."

#cassandra clare #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles

[wildcard-rumi]

I made another bunch of Persona OCS, so I figured I might as well share them on here. This image was made with: https://picrew.me/image_maker/186583

Name: Nozomi Shiraishi

Code Name: Siren

Arcana: Fool

Age: 16

Gender: Female

School: Shirayuki Academy

Skin Tone: Tanned

Eyes: Deep blue

Hair Style and Colour: Bright red hair pulled back in a loose plait

Star Sign: Aries

Birthday: April 2nd

Height: 6'2"

Weight: 137 Pounds

Summer Attire: Teal camisole with light pink stripes, light grey denim thigh length shorts, pink slip on shoes, white small framed glasses

Winter Attire: Light pink wool sweater, black jeans, teal leather jacket, light grey ankle boots

Thief Attire: black masquerade mask with red sparkles, black ruffled dress shirt, black skin tight trousers, red thigh high boots, red gloves, short red cape hanging off her right shoulder

Personality: Quiet, withdrawn, easily embarrassed, very cheeky when with friends, cautious, prefers to think things through, very passionate about theatre and music, tends to hold grudges, puts other people's needs before hers

Melee Weapon: Battle axe

Ranged Weapon: Assault rifle

Persona (Based on myth, legend, or folklore): Hathor

Persona Weakness: Fire

Persona Strength: Ice

Persona Can Nullify: Ice

Persona Description: Teal skin, bright red eyes and flowing hair, black sparkly ballroom gown, bright red ballet pumps, holding a black flute

Character Biography: Nozomi is an extremely popular idol, known for her acting and music career. She was pushed into show business when she was a child after her mother saw a potential profit from Nozomi's talent in musicals. This resulted in Nozomi becoming a rather jaded teenager as she was surrounded by people who only cared about popularity and profit. Her mother's overzealous approach to Nozomi's talents put a strain on the family and lead to her parents divorcing. At the beginning of the story, Nozomi moves to Kyoto with her father after he finally won custody. The two want a new start so Nozomi went on hiatus as an idol and cut off all contact with her mother as she tries to figure out what she wants to do with her life. She does know, however, that she is sick of being treated like a pretty little doll to be manipulated for other people's profit. She has the power of the wildcard.

#oc - nozomi shiraishi #rui's ocs

[citialiin]

ooc ; thank u for tagging me in fun memes and stuff! ヽ(　･∀･)ﾉ so i dont flood ppls dashes i just wait until i have a few & put them under readmores.

HORROR ARCHETYPE AESTHETICS tagged by: @ betelguide

GOTHIC HORROR.

gaslights.   corsets.   ballrooms.   candlelight.   mist.   starless nights.   full moons.  cobbled streets.   horse-drawn carriages.   mysterious strangers.   bogs.   moors.  forests.   mountains.   castles.   velvet.   silver.   brass.   gold.   jewels.   domino masks.   the opera.  dangerous romances.   tragic romances.   violins.   roses.   lilies.   empty graves.   crosses.   cemeteries.   snow.   ice.   the gallows.   crows.   milk-white skin.  ambiguous illness.  fangs.   pointed nails.   something howling in the night.   capes.   gloves.   top hats.   straight razors.   lightning.   pipe organs.   underground caverns.   bats.   mice.   rats.   ravens.   cats.   pearls.   attics.   talismans.   axes.   wood.  isolation in a room full of people.   vampires.   werewolves.   ghosts.   coffins.   western europe.   eastern europe.   bones.   churches.   catacombs.   mausoleums.   spiders.   books.

CLASSIC HORROR.

black   &   white.   powder puffs.   red lipstick.   winged eyeliner.   white kitten heels.  black lace lingerie.   icy blue eyes.   rain.   abandoned cars.   skeletons.   acid.  poison.   voyeurism.   switchblades.   strangling.   overcoats.   looking over your shoulder.   trans-atlantic accents.   private detectives.   dinner parties.   haunted mansions.   alcohol in glass decanters.   cobwebs.   perfect blonde curls.   kitchen knives.   shock.   cellars.  dust.  dark alleys.   empty streets.   driving at night.   horn-rimmed glasses.   radiation.  zombies.   serial murder.   paranoia.   the city.   witches.  the devil.   cannibalism.  conspiracies.   amulets.   abject terror.   the american south.   the american northeast.    england.   analog cameras.

SLASHERS.

bloodbaths.   massacres.   wanton nudity.   newspapers.   leather jackets.   letterman jackets.   converse sneakers.   obscured faces.   social unrest.   bonfires.   lakes.  babysitters.   suburbia.   high school.   lockers.   dead leaves in the fall.   jack-o’-lanterns.   outdated television sets.   nightmares.   psychiatrists.   hospitals.  unstoppable forces.   gunfire.   police.   landline telephones.   household objects turned into improvised weapons.   halloween.   secrets.   revelations.   character masks.  scrunchies.   queerness.   wild curls.   morbid humor.   jeering children.  parties.   fire.   swearing.  revulsion.   california.   the american midwest.   ambulances.

PARANORMAL HORROR.

malevolent spirits.   seances.   spells.   missing bodies.   hidden graves.   white noise.   static.   flickering lights.   rings of salt.   demons.   poltergeists.   dark histories.   old buildings.  cold air.   mausoleums.   wells.   urban exploration.   a dog barking at something you can’t see.   black ooze.   old photographs.   faces you can swear you’ve seen before  but can’t for the life of you figure out where.   dark bodies of water.   crucifixes.   priests.   possession.   exorcisms.   dolls.   jump scares.

CRYPTID   &   URBAN LEGEND HORROR.

ALIENS.  blinding light.   dark woods.   driving at night.   claw-marks.   bite-marks.   men in black.   memory loss.  dismembered bodies.   sewers.   flashlights.   cell phones.   video cameras.   cars with tinted windows.   abandoned houses.   unlabeled cassette tapes.  bugs.   big cities.   urban crimes.  clowns.   something rustling outside your window. glowing light.   unsolved mysteries.   suburbia.   mirrors.   the american pacific northwest.   the american midwest.   the american east coast.   hiking   /   backpacking.

THRILLERS.

daylight.   fluorescent lighting.   morgues.   asylums.   unwavering eye contact.  tension.   lit rooms with no one inside them.   a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed.  steely gazes.   paperwork.   anagrams.   codes.   convicted killers.  missing persons.  law enforcement.   federal agents.  small towns.   suspicion.   paranoia.   subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots.

CLASSIC NOVELIST AESTHETICS tagged by: @ finestprize

JOHN KEATS. the lavender in sunsets, flowers in the rain, sunlight slipping through clouds,  lazy summer afternoons, the heavy scent of musk, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books,  fireflies on a cool summer night, being wrapped in fresh bed sheets, the ache of wanting what you can never have, dripping sunlight like gold,  loving someone so exquisite,  soft lips and soft whispers, fingers through hair, names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass,  the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.

F. SCOTT FITZGERALD.   crisp winter skies with cold bright stars,  mahogany wood, the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog,  empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room,  bruised arms reaching out into the darkness,  cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol,  a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered, the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment,  your favorite sweater, parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing, the contrast of blood against snow,  a purple split lip oozing blood,  black eyes fading to blue to pale skin,  the butterflies of falling in love for the first time, the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries,  the romanticization of self-destruction.

FRANZ KAFKA.  the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future,  decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there,  the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books, delicate veins in the wrist, ghosts filling lungs,  shattered bones,  raindrops on the tongue,  rusting metal, nostalgia that aches,  the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head.

H.P. LOVECRAFT.   the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave,  pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark,  thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never-ending ocean,  the silence of three a.m.,  ouija boards and urban legends. (WHO WROTE THIS???? HAVE YOU EVER OBSESSIVELY POURED OVER HP LOVECRAFT LIKE I HAVE??? THIS SUCKS!!! THESE ARE NOT HP LOVECRAFT AT ALL WHERE IS THE SECTION ABOUT CLIMBING UP MOUNTAINS TO SUMMON ELDER GODS AND HOWLING AT THE MOON LIKE A MADMAN AND HAVING A WIZARD BEAT YOU TO DEATH IN YOUR OWN HOUSE)

JACK KEROUAC.   the brisk pine air of being on a mountain,  travels without a destination,  those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory,  screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive,  coffee shops late at night, car rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark, naps spent in the sun,  novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins, the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders, ignoring flaws and loving life,  wind through hair,  depression as fog in the brain, impossible ideals, a quiet sunrise,  walks alone, when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe, dazzling people, open lands stretching out into infinity, falling in love with being alive.

EDGAR ALLAN POE.   the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog,  hollow bones,  a preserved heart held in hands,  twinkling stars above an old graveyard,  the way everything turns to dust,  silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom, self-inflicted flames,  perfection depicted as a rotting corpse,  death as bricks in the heart,  lips barely brushing against each other, glassy glazed eyes,  biting into a lemon,  heart-shaped bruises,  rotting flowers on a grave,  dried blood and spilled liquor,  the hush of dusk when it begins raining,  the intimacy of a secret.

LITERARY ARCHETYPE MEME tagged by: @ manenimittliv

HOMERIC EPITHET:  You are THE GREAT TELLER OF TALES

The Greek hero Odysseus had many epithets ascribed to him (others included “much-enduring,” “cunning,” and “man of twists and turns”), and this was one of them, so you’re in good company.

FATAL FLAW: YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH THE IDEA OF A PERSON.

And then I deleted the rest of this because it didn’t really apply to him. Oh well

LITERARY SETTING: GATSBY'S MANSION

You got Gatsby’s mansion! This larger-than-life crib is the perfect place for a party animal like yourself. It’s located on the Long Island Sound (ideal for swimming, lounging, obsessively staring across the water with a LaCroix in your hand and unattainable fantasies on your mind, etc.), but it’s also just a train ride away from New York City (city of dreams and $1 pizza). But let’s not forget the best part: it’s got a library that’ll make you wanna grab a fluffy blanket and a chai latte and literally never see the light of day again.

this is a lot of useless information. steal them if youd like

#ooc #memes #I didnt get shit done today sorry

[4-of-cups]

I was thinking about the floor mosaics at the airport I work at and it turns out there’s a lot more than I thought! So I wanted to post them here because they’re just really nice and I wish there were better pictures (especially of “You Are Here” because that one’s my favorite and the picture is just so bad). All the descriptions and images are from this website!

(Also a note, these descriptions were written before they changed the checkpoints at Terminal 1. So if you’re ever in Minneapolis looking for these, checkpoint 1 is now North Checkpoint, and checkpoint 5 is now South Checkpoint. There is no 2-4 anymore.)

--

A BOREAL TRIAD

Is located in Terminal 1-Lindbergh and consists of three inlaid stone floors entitled MINNESOTA COMPASS ROSE, THE NORTH STAR, and PLANT, ANIMAL, SEASON. All three designs are aligned to magnetic North and were installed in 1999.

MINNESOTA COMPASS ROSE

A romantic icon of travel, the compass rose is a map-derived image emphasizing the idea of The North. Its northerly “N” is set within a northern red oak leaf, a plant native to Minnesota. A snowflake at the center of the design celebrates Minnesota’s extravagant winter. The juxtaposition of the curved and jagged edges within the design’s offset concentric circles is a symbolic rendering of fire and ice. Artists: Andrea Myklebust and Stanton G. Sears Located post-security in the Airport Mall near Checkpoint 5 at Terminal 1-Lindbergh

THE NORTH STAR

This mosaic features a constellation map of the Big and Little Dippers and Ursa Major and Minor. In the same way we are taught to find the North Star in the night sky, the two pointer stars of the Big Dipper act as a guide to Polaris, the ornate star at the center of the composition. The design is a reference to Minnesota, “The North Star State,” and depicts native fauna in the bears, the band of cardinals, and sunfish in the outer edge of the circle. Artists: Andrea Myklebust and Stanton G. Sears Located post-security in the Airport Mall near Checkpoint 4 at Terminal 1-Lindbergh

PLANT, ANIMAL, SEASON

At the center of the design, the snowflake appears again as an echo of the Compass Rose. Quilt-like patterns emerge in the succeeding circles, depicting bands of the leaves of native trees and Minnesota fish species. The outermost pattern is formed of native animal tracks – moose, bear, deer, raccoon, beaver, bobcat, and wolf. Flying over these patterns, as though in aerial view, is a great goose. Artists: Andrea Myklebust and Stanton G. Sears Located post-security in the Airport Mall near Checkpoint 3 at Terminal 1-Lindbergh

BIG WOODS SUMMER

This floor design incorporates images of native Minnesota wildflowers in a seasonal progression from spring to winter. A smaller ring in the design is composed of images of evergreen trees, a lake with boats and docks, and a sunburst design which is centered in the rotunda space. It is composed of granite, marble, stainless steel, brass, and is approximately 25 feet in diameter. It was installed in 2001. Artists: Andrea Myklebust and Stanton G. Sears Located near gate C13 in the Concourse C Rotunda at Terminal 1-Lindbergh

MEMORY PIECE

The terrazzo floor mosaic in the atrium linking MSP Lindbergh Terminal concourses A, B, and C was designed shortly after September 11, 2001, and was influenced by the tragedies of that day. While the native wilderness and spatial themes are consistent with other mosaics at the airport, there are also subtle representations honoring the victims of 9/11: an outline of a plane in a star field, four eagles representing the four commercial planes lost to terrorists, a fiery wheel symbolic of heaven, and black bands around each design as tokens of mourning. The artwork acknowledges the magnitude of September’s tragic events while also celebrating the new facilities and their importance as a conduit for those traveling to and from Minnesota. Artists: Andrea Myklebust and Stanton G. Sears Located in the A-B Rotunda at Terminal 1-Lindbergh

YOU ARE HERE

“You are Here,” installed in 2005 in the North Atrium of MSP Lindbergh Terminal, is twenty feet in diameter and made of granite, marble, and aluminum. Imagery in the artwork is drawn from aeronautical charts of the Minneapolis-St. Paul region. The locations and identification codes of airports administered by the Metropolitan Airports Commission are noted, as are a number of navigational beacons. A border of symbols used in aviation weather maps encircles the work, and a smaller circle comprised of snowflake and sun imagery connects the work thematically with other floor mosaics created by the artists in the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. Artists: Andrea Myklebust and Stanton G. Sears Located post-security in the Airport Mall near Checkpoint 1 at Terminal 1-Lindbergh

DRAGONFLY

The work spans the width of the LRT platform and responds to airfoil-inspired sculptural elements designed by the architects, which are suspended from the ceiling. The primordial wing below contrasts with the modern wings above. The piece is completed by a band of native Minnesota stone tiles extending across the platform on a diagonal with the wing. Dragonfly is approximately 30 by 45 feet in size, and incorporates epoxy terrazzo, Minnesota stone tiles, and water-jet cut and hand-bent aluminum. It was unveiled with the opening of the LRT in December, 2004. Artists: Andrea Myklebust and Stanton G. Sears Located at the Light Rail Transit Station at Terminal 1-Lindbergh (Photo from here, because the one on the first article was. awful.)

NIGHTLIGHTS

NightLights is a 2,100 square foot terrazzo floor inspired by nighttime views from the windows of airplanes. In a field of deep color, clusters of brightly colored epoxy terrazzo and glass are scattered like jewels in a dark cloth. At first glance, the patterns suggest galaxies, star clusters or constellations, but a closer inspection reveals that the patterns are generated by human activity: the big cities, small towns, and thoroughfares of commerce and transportation. At the center of the designs (and the center of the terminal building itself), is a circular medallion depicting the pattern of the runways and taxiways of the MSP International Airport. Intersecting this central motif is a forty-five foot wide ellipse within which are playful illustrations related to faraway places in the directions indicated. Art elements in the pieces were generated using opalescent glass rods, colored epoxy terrazzo, brass, and water-jet cut zinc plate. Overall dimensions of the work are approximately 27’ x 90’ and more than 1,500 individual elements comprise the “lights” in the map-like design. The CAD design for the project was completed by Minneapolis artist Brad Kaspari. It was installed in 2001. Artists: Andrea Myklebust and Stanton G. Sears Located pre-security near Checkpoint 2 at Terminal 2-Humphrey

STARWHEEL

Starwheel reflects the beauty and diversity of the Minnesota landscape and the historical movement of people across these ecotones— beneath the movement of the stars. There are a number of constellations visible in the floor, including the North Star Polaris and the Little Dipper. All the other stars spin around Polaris which serves as a longstanding navigational marker of the night sky.

Minnesota’s tall grass prairie is depicted in thin 16-gauge divider strip on both ends of the design which appear and disappear into the dark sea of blue and yellows as you walk across the floor. The navigational waterways—both rivers and lakes of Minnesota—are evoked through the large abstract depiction of a canoe’s ribs, thwarts and inwales. Numerous silver-coated, mirrored and mother-of-pearl shell pieces in the floor are meant to evoke the reflection of stars on the surface of the water.

To convey a sense of navigation and discovery, the image of an astrolabe which is set to the exact latitude for this section of the airport. The Museum of the History of Science at Oxford describes the astrolabe this way, “With ancient origins and a two thousand year history, the astrolabe illuminates astronomy, time-telling, astrology and religion across cultures, time and place.” There are more than 2,000 functions for the astrolabe, so it becomes the GPS, smartphone and even computer of centuries past. The Roman numerals tell another story of time and time-keeping which is ever present in airport travel itineraries. Other directional and wayfinding markers are layered into the design with reference to the wonder of the petroglyphs inscribed into the Sioux Red Quartzite at Jeffers Petroglyph Park.

As airline passengers and visitors pass through this terminal, I want them to connect their own travels and adventures in Minnesota and beyond to this larger movement of history and discovery. The story of humanity is one of a great journey: in a sense, we are all travelers. We locate ourselves in the stories that evoke our comings and goings, affirmed by the imagery which guides us in our discoveries of what might lie ahead and in our returning home. Artist: Scott Parsons Located pre-security near Checkpoint 1 at Terminal 2-Humphrey

#x #long post #not to triangulate my location but #here you go #someday I'm going to take better pictures of these bc tbh #my phone camera quality is better than this

[officialleehadan]

Masterlist 09/02/2018

Hello Darlings, here is the updated masterlist as of 09/01/18

If you want to blacklist these posts, which will update every other week or so, the tag is Lee Hadan Masterlist

All the stories here are arranged by series, and the stories are arranged chronologically within their series. If there’s only one story in a series, I already have continuations written (or planned) and more will be coming soon!

EDIT: There seems to be some technical stuff going on, on Tumblr’s end, because the links here are not posting up on the Desktop version of Tumblr. I’ve already submitted a report about it, but if you’re having trouble seeing links on this post, that would be why.

+++

Support me on Patreon

My Tip Jar

Books on Amazon:

Goblin Armor

There has never been much in way of peace between the Faerie Realm, and  the Shadow Wold of the Goblins. Generations of hostility and mistrust  will do that. Still, for two generations, the border has been quiet, and the fearsom Goblins hidden away deep in their dark forest. Until now.  With the Goblins on the march, and Princess Snowbell’s king-father  flying to meet them, it is all Snow can do to keep her family, and her  Realm, from falling to treason, and murder. 

Return Again

I thought my father was normal. The kind of dad who deals with work, and homework, and the troubles that come with being a single father to a   seventeen-year-old girl. I didn’t know he went to a different world when he was a teenager. I didn’t know he was the Chosen One of a magic   sword. I didn’t know he saved a whole kingdom, maybe their world, before he was twenty. That was thirty years ago. Now they need him back, and   I’m going with him.

The Idol of Astre: ($2 a month on Patreon)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

The Unsettled:

Handful of Salt

Critter Jar

Appropriate use of Craft Glitter

Unafraid

The Ghosts of Pinewood Estate (Patreon-Only!)

This Old House:

Experienced Home-Buying

Living Negotiation (Patreon-Only!)

White Roses and Deck Railings 

Twins Together:

Brothers Apart

Sanctuary Always

Twins in Crime

Twinning Disagreements

Bond of Brothers

One Mind, Two Heads (Patreon Only!)

Deities and Demigods:

Boredom

Inconvenienced

Luck’s Chosen

Golden Apples

Brewer’s Glass (Patreon-Only!)

Apocalypse:

Come Again Another Day

Invasion from Below

War-Beasts

Four Horses

Four Horsemen

Horsemen Four

Mercy Mercy Mercy

To Save a Bird

Together Time (Patreon-Only!)

Breaking Waves:

After the Storm

Winter Wind

Storm At Sea

Uncollected Faeries:

Faerie Ring

Glitter Poo

Skitter

Wine-Dark

The End of Indian Summer

Purple Handed

At the Sign of the Silver Rose:

Cold Iron Buckshot

Troll Market

Selkie Skin:

Seal Coat

Over the Sea (Patreon-Only!)

Uncollected Dragons:

Exploration by Wing

Iced White Wine

Mine to Hoard

Hoard of Memories

Uncollected Witches:

Best Served Cold

Casual Friday

Exotic Components

One Eye on the Other Side

Spelled Cooking

Thyme can Heal

The Lightning Witch:

Static Charge

First Strike

Black Lightning on the Horizon

Storm Breaking

Copper Pipes

Crash Down

Husband to the Queen

When the Wolf Star Rises

Treebrothers:

Snow Elf

Wild Roses and Birdsong

Bare-Handed

Spider-Eating Elves:

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Introductory Trouble

Lady of Grace

Lady of Stone, and her Girlfriend

Lady Retrieved

Monsters on the Wing

Spiderwebs and Cookies

Royal Match

Lines in the Sand

Worldbuilding Essays:

Blood Magic

Elf Forest

Green Magic

Forge Magic

Thread Magic

Dragons

Light and Dark Magic

13 Moons

Frost Moon

Blue Moon

Jasmine Moon

HGE - Human/Alien Relations

Get That OUT of Your Mouth

Medical Attention

Claws

Ingenuity

War and Peace

Echo-Folk

HGE - Invasions

Invasion Denied

Blood Will Tell (What Waits in the Dark)

No Moon

HGE - The Others

Through Shattered Glass

Sea and Sky

HGE - Mismatched

Death Valley Sand

HGE - Conflagration

Fire District

HGE - Smoke before Fire

The Legend, The Rumor

Deep Water and Scales

Black Scales and Open Spaces

Screams in the Dark

Warning Lights

Into the Wild

Nobility and Flames

Packmates

HGE - The Maw

Back Room Handshakes

New Understandings

Poker Face

Brassy Secrets

HGE - Learn to Fly, Learn to Breathe:

Red Sun

Red Baron

Red Prince

Red Sky

Stone and Intuition:

Pack Hunters

Attack Droids

Dragon Bones

Dream of a Desk Job

BulbasaurBot

Explosive Foolishness

Inferno Grenades

Married Life

The Hand of Bone:

Death’s Kiss

Death’s Glow

Supers Beyond

Card Shark

Heroic Rescue

Housekeeping Before Villainy

Jet Fuel

Lobster Bisque

Opposing Elements:

Cold Front

Elemental

Reality at Will

Altering Reality

Reality Bent

The Pen is Mightier

Will of Fire

Chinese Pepper

Firepower

A Moment’s Peace

Burnout

Doctor Rimeheart (Supervillain Coffee Shop)

Handicapped

Power Rests in the Eye

Nuclear Option

Incidental Villain

Second in Command

Cut a Deal

First Summon

Even Supervillains run from Fangirls

The Blackest Coffee

Deal with the Devil

Opportunity for Advancement

Fear and Coffeegrounds

Personal Space

Broken Countertops

Christmas Cookies

Revealed

Wannabe Wannabes

Home Life

Shadows Unleashed

Old Villains (Patreon-Only!)

Higher Being Housemates

Bright Red Panties

Black and White Feathers

Demonic Comfort

Demonic Intervention

Unwanted Attention

Magpie Wings

Don’t Fall

Sparklers and Demon Smiles

Holy Words

Uncollected Demons:

Accidental Oops

Bloody Mirror

Brimstone Portal

Burn My Body and Bury Me Deep

Holy Protestation

On Repeat

The Gunsmith

The Wrong Victim

Over the Edge

Sinners

Seven Sins

House of Demons

A Deal Once Made:

You Scratch my Back

Contract Lawyer:

Blue Frosting

Fine Print

Uncollected:

Awaken History

Command.Awaken

Isle of Monsters

One Punch Man

Stonebreaker Caldera

Hot Potato, Hot Potato

Vigilante Vampire  

Crawlspace

Blood on the Walls

Between Us Girls:

Surprises Abroad

Uncollected Fantasy:

Below the Fog

Glitter Bold

God-Touched Tide

Into the Darkness

Turn Me

Wolf Moon

Blood Moon

Hallowed Halls Memorial

A Kiss to Heal a Broken Heart

Cursebroken

Nothing but Trouble

Build a House of Paper

Unspoken Words

Imagine Reality (Patreon-Only)

The Mistlands:

Foolhardy Errand

Letters Sent

Desert Glass:

Spellborn Lost

Smoked Glass

Books and Shared Experiences

Burned and Blasted

The Rise to Power:

Behind Closed Doors

Two Minds as One

Political Assassination

Gates Torn Down

Heaven’s Gates

Counter-Code:

Code for Magic

99 Shiny New Bugs

Blood Magic:

Blood Fire

At the Last Moment

Healing Touch                                                                                            

Unbound, Unbroken

Student Discovered

Claimed as Ours

Never Free:

Round and Round Again

Mistaken Step

Spinning Wheel

Stronger Together

Tea and History

Girl Talk

Golden Scales:

Tigerfish

Riverside

Blood and Passion:

White Marble

First Negotiation

Blood Summit

Blood Claim

CovenHold

Wolf Club

Blood-Traitor

Slow Burn:

About-Face

Dancing Lessons

Guiding Stars:

Procyon Moon

Altair Chariot

Vega Dignity

Secondhand Souls:

Partnership of Flames

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#Lee Hadan Masterlist

[mightystargazer]

2018 Readinglist

Drew Hayes Bloody Acquisitions

Drew Hayes The Fangs of Freelance Fred

Drew Hayes Second Hand Curses

Gregg Hurwitz The Rains

Gregg Hurwitz Last Chance

Dean Koontz Oddkins

David Timson Ghost Stories of an Antiquary

Kay Hooper Stealing Shadows

Kay Hooper Hiding In Shadows

Kay Hooper Out of Shadows

Kay Hooper Touching Evil

Kay Hooper Whisper of Evil

Kay Hooper Sense of Evil

Kay Hooper Hunting Fear

Kay Hooper Chill of Fear

Kay Hooper Sleeping with Fear

Kay Hooper Blood Dream

Kay Hooper Blood Sins

Kay Hooper Blood Ties

Kay Hooper Haven

Kay Hooper Hostage

Kay Hooper Haunted

Kay Hooper Fear the Dark

Kay Hooper Wait for Dark

Hunter Shea The Jersey Devil

Matt Haig The Humans

Terry Goodkind Nest

John G. Hartness Cold as Ice

John G. Hartness Into the Mystic

John Conroe God Touched

John Conroe Demon Driven

John Conroe Brutal Asset

John Conroe Black Frost

John Conroe Duel Nature

John Conroe Fallen Stars

John Conroe Executable

John Conroe Forced Ascent

John Conroe College Arcane

John Conroe God Hammer 

John Conroe Rogues

John Conroe Snake Eyes

John Conroe Winterfall

Bentley Little The House

Terry Goodkind Nest

Stephen Blackmoore Dead Things

Stephen Blackmoore Broken Souls

Stephen Blackmoore Hungry Ghosts

Peter Cawdron Alien Space Tentacle Porn

A. American Hope

Dean Koonz Richochet Joe

Sarah Lyons Fleming Until the End of the World

Sarah Lyons Fleming So Long Lollipops

Sarah Lyons Fleming And After

Sarah Lyons Fleming All the Stars in the Sky

Robert Bevan Critical Failures V

Perrin Briar Genesis Flowers

Larry Correia The Adventures of Tom Stranger

Larry Correia A Murder of Manatees

J. R. Ward Covet 

J. R. Ward Crave

J. R. Ward Envy

J. R. Ward Rapture

J. R. Ward Possession

J. R. Ward Immortal

Milo James Fowler Captain Bartholomew Quasar

James Smythe The Echo

Ian Tregillis The Mechanical

Ian Tregillis The Rising

Ian Tregillis The Liberation

Harvard Lampoon Bored of the Rings

Barry J. Hutchison Return of the Dead Guy 

Mark Tufo Demon Fallout

Mark Tufo Defeat's Victory 

Morgan Hobbes The Totally True Adventures of Gustav Gustavson

Barry J. Hutchison Dial D for Deadman

Christopher Moore Practical Demonkeeping

Christopher Moore Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove

Christopher Moore The Stupidest Angel

Richard Johnson Weekend at Vidu's

Brian Keene The Rising

Brian Keene City of the Dead

Daniel Fite The Zombie Chapters

Edward Zajac A Swift Kick in the Asteroids

Donald E. Westlake The Busy Body

Dean Koontz The Whispering Room

Christopher Moore Bloodsucking Fiends

Christopher Moore You Suck

Christopher Moore Bite Me

Sue Perkins Zoopedia

Anthology Zombies, The Recent Dead 

Anthology Zombies, More Recent Dead 

Brett J. Talley That Which Should Not Be

Christopher Moore A Dirty Job

Christopher Moore Secondhand Souls

Christopher Moore Coyote Blue

Al K. Line Hidden Spark 

Al K. Line Dead Spark 

Al K. Line Wild Spark 

Kim Stanley Robinson Icehenge

Bentley Little The Mailman

Zach Bohannon Empty Bodies

James Peters Black Swan Planet

Peter Meredith The Edge of Hell

Peter Meredith The Edge of Temptation

Gerry Griffiths The Beasts of Stoneclad Mountain

Christopher Moore Fluke Or, I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings

C.G. Mosley The Island in the Mist

C.G. Mosley Monsters in the Mist

Russell James Cavern of the Damned

Mike Bockoven FantasticLand

Michael  McBride Snowblind

Michael  McBride The Killing Grounds

Kevin Hearne Scourged

E.F. Benson's Ghost Stories

Donnie Eichar Dead Mountain

Corey Taylor A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Heaven

Viktor Zarkov Megatooth

Steven Bird Erebus

Robert Bevan 5d6 Caverns and Creatures

Richard Kadrey Suspect Zero

Keith C. Blackmore Mountain Man Prequel

Dave Jeffery Frostbite

Christopher Moore Fool

Christopher Moore The Serpent of Venice

Seth Shostak Confessions of an Alien Hunter

P. K. Hawkins Titanoboa

Matt Serafini Island Red

Christopher Moore Island of the Sequined Love Nun

Ambrose Ibsen Asylum

Ambrose Ibsen Forest

Ambrose Ibsen The Occupant

Lucas Pederson Leviathan Ghost Rig

Kara Cooney The Woman Who Would Be King

Jonathan Maberry Mars One

John J. Rust Reptilian

Greig Beck Beneath the Dark Ice

Greig Beck Dark Rising

Greig Beck This Green Hell

Greig Beck Black Mountain

Greig Beck Gorgon

Greig Beck Hammer of God

Greig Beck Kraken Rising

Michelle McNamara Ill Be Gone in the Dark

Stephen R Donaldson The Kings Justice

Jerry Dubs Imhotep

Christopher Moore Lamb The Gospel

Barry J. Hutchison Planet of the Japes´

Bentley Little The ignored

Marty Essen Time Is Irreverent

Thomas Tryon Harvest Home

Dean Koontz The Bone Farm

Dean Koontz The Crooked Staircase

Christopher Moore Sacre Bleu

Benjamin Wallace Junkers

Alex Laybourne Terror from the Deep

Christopher Golden Ararat

Alice Hoffman The Museum of Extraordinary Things

Jim Butcher Storm Front

Jim Butcher Fool Moon

Jim Butcher Grave Peril

Jim Butcher Summer Knight

Jim Butcher Death Masks

Jim Butcher Blood Rites

Jim Butcher Bombshells

Jim Butcher Proven Guilty

Jim Butcher White Night

Jim Butcher Small Favor

Jim Butcher Backup

Jim Butcher Turn Coat

Jim Butcher Changes

Jim Butcher Ghost Story

Jim Butcher Cold Days

Jim Butcher Shadowed Souls

Jim Butcher Skin Game

Jim Butcher White Night

Jim Butcher Working for Bigfoot

Stephen King The Outsider

The World of Lore Wicked Mortals

Hugh Howey I, Zombie

C. Gockel Archangel Down

C. Gockel Noa's Ark

C. Gockel Heretic

Anthology Aliens Bug Hunt

Shea Ernshaw The Wicked Deep

John F.D. Taff The Bell Witch

Adrienne Lecter Incubation

Adrienne Lecter Outbreak

Adrienne Lecter Escalation

Adrienne Lecter Extinction

Adrienne Lecter Resurgence

Adrienne Lecter Unity

Adrienne Lecter Affliction

Adrienne Lecter Catharsis

Barry J. Hutchison The Time Titan of Tomorrow

The Cabin at the End of the World

Chuck Wendig The Blue Blazes

Larry Correia Saints 

Dirk Patton Voodoo Plague

Dirk Patton Crucifixion V Plague

John Connolly Every Dead Thing

John Connolly Dark Hollow

John Connolly The Killing Kind

John Connolly The White Road

John Connolly The Black Angel

John Connolly The Unquiet

John Connolly The Reapers

John Connolly The Lovers

John Connolly The Whisperers

John Connolly The Burning Soul

John Connolly The Wrath of Angels

John Connolly The Wolf In Winter

John Connolly A Song of Shadow

John Connolly A Time Of Torment

John Connolly A Game of Ghosts

Barry J. Hutchison The King of Space Must Die

Dave Itzkoff Robin

Greig Beck The Void

Jim Butcher Furies of Calderon

Jim Butcher Academs Fury

Jim Butcher Cursors Fury

Jim Butcher Captains Fury

Jim Butcher Princeps Fury

Jim Butcher First Lords Fury

Mark Tufo Etna Station

Bentley Little The Resort

Rebecca Roanhorse Trail of Lightning

Michael Rutger The Anomaly

Scott Smith The Ruins

Zach Bohannon Empty Bodies

Zach Bohannon Adaptation 

Zach Bohannon Deliverance

Zach Bohannon Open Roads

Zach Bohannon Damnation

Zach Bohannon Revelation

Stevens, Marc First of my Kind, 2nd Edition

Peter Clines The Eerie Adventures of the Lycanthrope Robinson Crusoe

Nathan Hystad The Event

Michael Crichton Next

Graeme Reynolds High Moor

Graeme Reynolds Moonstruck

Jim C. Hines Janitors Of The Post Apocalypse

Thomas Sweterlitsch The Gone World

Michael McBride Subhuman

Jeremy Robinson The Others

Jeremy Bishop The Sentinel

James D. Prescott Extinction Code

Alan Dean Foster Relic

Bobby Adair Dusty's Diary

Adam Cesare The Con Season

Richard Kadrey Hollywood Dead

Margaret Atwood Angel Catbird

Bethany Blake Death by Chocolate Lab

Bethany Blake Dial Meow for Murder

Bethany Blake Pawprints & Predicaments

Jeff Strand The Haunted Forest Tour

Adam Cesare Tribesmen

Adrienne Lecter Exodus

Ted Dekker The Bride Collector

T.W. Piperbrook The Last Survivors

T.W. Piperbrook The Last Escape

T.W. Piperbrook The Last Humanity

T.W. Piperbrook The Last Command

T.W. Piperbrook The Last Refuge

T.W. Piperbrook The Last Conquest

T.W. Piperbrook The Ruins 1

T.W. Piperbrook The Ruins 2

T.W. Piperbrook The Ruins 3

T.W. Piperbrook The Ruins 4

T.W. Piperbrook Outage 1

T.W. Piperbrook Outage 2

T.W. Piperbrook Outage 3

T.W. Piperbrook The Reckoning

Bobby Adair Zero Day

Bobby Adair Infected

Bobby Adair Destroyer

Bobby Adair Dead Fire

Bobby Adair Torrent

Bobby Adair Bleed

Bobby Adair City of Stin

Bobby Adair Grind

Bobby Adair Sanctum

Tony Peak Signal

Steven Brust Good Guys

Stephen King & Bev Vincent Flight or Fright

Myke Cole Control Point

Myke Cole Fortress Frontier

Myke Cole Breach Zone

Graeme Reynolds Blood Moon

Michael Hodges The Invasive

Jeff Strand Dead Clown Barbecue

Echoes of Evil

Dean Koontz The Forbidden Door

James D. Prescott Extinction Countdown

Sam Sykes Humane Killer

Dan Simmons Summer of Night

Dan Simmons Children of the Night

Dan Simmons A Winter Haunting

Myke Cole Gemini Cell

Myke Cole Javelin Rain

Myke Cole Siege Line

Adam Cesare Video Night 

Deborah Sheldon Devil Dragon

Peter Meredith Generation Z

Peter Meredith The Queen of the Dead

Peter Meredith The Queen of War

Tim Powers Alternate Routes

Richard Roberts I Did NOT Give That Spider Superhuman Intelligence!

Richard Roberts Please Dont Tell My Parents Im a Supervillain

Richard Roberts Please Don't Tell My Parents I Blew Up the Moon

Richard Roberts Please Don't Tell My Parents I've Got Henchmen

Richard Roberts Please Don't Tell My Parents I Have a Nemesis

Richard Roberts Please Don't Tell My Parents You Believe Her

Michael McDowell BlackWater

Hunter Shea Mail Order Massacres

Jeff Strand Dweller 

Adam Cesare Zero Lives Remaining

Ezekiel Boone Zero Day

Ted Kosmatka Prophet of Bones

Steven L. Kent 100 Fathoms Below

Keith C. Blackmore The Missing Boatman

John Connolly Bad Men

Jeremy Robinson Forbidden Island

Chuck Wendig Under the Empyrean Sky

Chuck Wendig Blightborn

Chuck Wendig The Harvest

Shingles Audio Collection

Robert E. Howard The Horror Stories of Robert E. Howard

Paul E. Cooley The Black

Paul E. Cooley Arrival

Paul E. Cooley Outbreak

M.R. Forbes Forgotten

M.R. Forbes Forsaken

M.R. Forbes Unforgiven

Jeremy  Robinson Kronos

Jeff Strand I Have a Bad Feeling about This

Mark Tufo Whistlers

Mark Tufo Atlantis

Mark Tufo Convergence

Mark Tufo Valhalla

Laurie Forest The Black Witch

Simon R. Green

Simon R. Green Man with the Golden Torc

Simon R. Green Daemons are Forever

Simon R. Green The Spy Who Haunted Me

Simon R. Green From Hell With Love

Simon R. Green For Heaven's Eyes Only

Simon R. Green Live and Let Drood

Simon R. Green Casino Infernale

Simon R. Green Property of a Lady Faire

Simon R. Green From a Drood to a Kill

Simon R. Green Dr. DOA

Simon R. Green Moonbreaker

Simon R. Green Night Fall

Rob Dircks You're Going to Mars!

Stephen King Elevation  

Drew Hayes Pears and Perils

Alma Katsu The Hunger 

Hunter Shea One Size Eats All

Joseph Fink Alice Isn't Dead

Jonathan Mayberry Glimpse

Jack Ketchum Off Season

Jack Ketchum Offspring

Jack Ketchum The Woman

Chuck Wendig The Blue Blazes

Bobby Akart Yellowstone Hellfire

Bobby Akart Yellowstone Inferno

Laurie Forest wandfasted

Greig Beck Abyss

Barry J. Hutchison Dial D for Deadman

Barry J. Hutchison Dead Inside

Barry J. Hutchison Dead in the Water

#reading #list #readinglist #audiobooks #authors #books #2018

[vint-agge-xx]

“ Here at Erddig near the market town of Wrexham (pictured above) the serving staff photographed in 1912 included gardeners, housemaids, footmen, butler, cook, laundress, housekeeper and the estate foreman.”

All About House Maids: 

Housemaids had to get up as early as 5:30 a.m in order to clean the living areas and light fires before the family and guests appeared. In the kitchens, other maids would be lighting stoves and boiling gallons of water, which had to be carried upstairs by senior maids and valets to fill the china washbasins or hip baths in every bedroom. Servants had to use the back stairs and side entrances so that they wouldn’t inadvertently come across the people to whom they ministered. Some houses even had separate corridors for the servants’use. Servants’ accommodation was also hidden. At the back of Tatton Hall—the side that visitors would never have seen—is a brick wing off the kitchen for the maids. Attics were also used for maids’ rooms. They were cold in winter and hot in summer. Male staff often slept near their work. At Shugborough visitors can see the remote brick bothies where gardeners slept so they could get up on cold nights to make sure all was well with the heating in the greenhouses. Grooms and stable boys lived over the stables; footmen sometimes bedded down near valuables such as silver closets.

Brass bells on heavy coils mounted in the servants’ hall at Erddig allows servants to see, and hear, when they are summoned to any room in the house. There was no such thing in the servants’ hall as being “off duty.” 

Servants typically ate dinner at around 2 p.m. in the servants’ hall. Everyone waited behind their chairs until the butler and housekeeper arrived and signaled they could sit. The butler generally served the meat, while the housekeeper filled plates with vegetables and handed them out in order of seniority so the youngest received theirs last. For dessert, the senior servants retired to the housekeeper’s or butler’s parlor, where they would be waited on by one of the maids, leaving the younger servants free to chat. This pause in the day’s toil provided some free time, but servants were rarely allowed to leave the house. A bell could ring at any time, calling them to provide a service or to perform routine tasks. In effect, there was no end to their working day, and one day off a month was the most they could hope for. Maids typically made their own uniforms, sometimes from cloth provided by their employers: typically pink or blue cotton dresses for housework, with parlormaids changing to black, with white aprons and caps, in the afternoon. At Tatton Hall even aprons were color coded, with black trim for small girls, green trim for big girls, red for small boys, blue for big boys and so on. In the 18th century many male servants wore elaborate liveries provided by their employers, but by the end of the 19th century typically only coachmen (and later chauffeurs) wore them. The contrast between the free clothes that some male servants were given and the hand-made dresses that maids had to supply themselves is only one way in which women servants generally had a tougher deal than men. While housekeepers and butlers had comparable responsibilities, butlers were paid much more. In the 1870s the butler at Shugborough earned £73 a year, while the housekeeper got only £42. A valet earned £52 while a lady’s maid doing similar work got only £25. In the lower ranks, a laundry maid earned £18, while a nursery maid earned 9 guineas, though her boss, the head nurse, was paid £31. Even by the standards of the 19th century, these wages were low. On the other hand, servants had fewer expenses than other workers because accommodation and food were provided. In less affluent houses, this could mean slim pickings, but in the great aristocratic mansions servants were well fed. They might even sample treats such as game or ice cream left over from entertainments. When employers were away, servants got board wages: money to buy their own food. The lower servants got less than the senior staff, but nonetheless even the poorest paid maids could save a little out of it. But while the hierarchical nature of servants’ work could bear heavily on the lowliest, it gave them a career path. The Marquess of Bath explained, “In the old days when people were brought up to domestic service they moved up from being lamp boys or pantry boys to footmen, groom of chambers or house stewards.” Similarly, a 12-year-old scullery maid on £5 a year in the 1860s could hope to eventually become a cook earning as much as £60.

#late 1800s #victorian era #edwardian era #photos #vintage photography #servants #history #butlers #butler #maids #1800s #1900s

[tipsycad147]

Your Shadow Moon Name and What it Means

By The Alchemist

As the Moon travels through the night skies, it affects the entire land of the living. Moreover, the Moon affect Other Realms preparing in the Astral and Spiritual planes ‘what’s coming into being‘ as the Egyptian Priests used to say. This is when the ‘Shadow Moon Name’ comes.

What’s Your ‘Shadow Moon Name’?

The ‘Shadow Moon Name’ is a made up phrase from the ‘High Priest of the Phoenix’, to describe how the power of the Moon affects the new born humans. Furthermore, the ‘Shadow Moon Name’ is personalized and hints about possible magical powers one can develop in his/her life span. It can also show where do we come from as our spirit is immortal and experienced many lifetimes.

How to Find your Shadow Moon Name:

To find your ‘Shadow Moon Name’, all you have to do is know you Birthday.

For example Let’s say you were born on January 01. Your Shadow Moon Name is (January = Ancient , 01 = Leader) ‘Ancient Leader’.

Or maybe you were born on December 30. Your Shadow Moon Name is Oak Charisma.

REMEMBER that your Shadow Moon Name is a code name, a mystical name.

Your Month of Birth is used for the first part of your Shadow Moon Name:

January: Ancient

The Night of January falls heavy on the dark forests and everything seems to sleep. Is is known as Ancient or Old Moon. Silence conquers the freezing air and the Old woods stand proudly until the howling of the Wolves chills the human blood as it sounds like an invocation to the Moon.

The Wolves have long been associated to the Moon and its deities. Artemis/Diana, Goddess of the Moon have usually been accompanied by Wolves. Magic of the Ancient Moon relies on how wolves interact with each other. Wolves go in pacts, like us, humans. Wolf society have leaders and strong family bonds. People born under the Moon are extra powerful when it comes to leadership and family bonds.

February: Snow

The Winter is still powerful and the snow falls over the land. The food resources grow thin and everybody waits for Spring although there is still much time. Snow is believed to be more common in February rather than December and January according to folk magic.

It is also known as Hunger Moon due to the lack of food in the last month of Winter. Magic of the Snow Moon relies on the pure and absolute qualities of snow itself. People born under the powers of the Snow Moon are believed to invoke the refreshing and purifying powers of the Moon.

March: Sugar

The Air gets warmer and silence is ending. Tiny vibrations from the Earth shake Winter’s throne. As the ice and snow begins to melt and the ground is watered and softened, earthworms appear digging holes preparing the land to be fertile again. Something is changing rapidly although in the beginning there were only worms. Spring is here.

During the Sugar Moon, sap begins to leak from wrinkles in maple tree. Under the surface everything moves. People born under the Worm Moon are blessed with the Magic of Goals and Opportunities. People born under the influence of Worm moon can contact Mother Earth to warm the “seeds” of the Goals and let them flourish and bloom!

April: Pink

The fertile soil has been watered and plants have grown. The Green conquers the land until Flowers begin to bloom. Mother Nature celebrates its resurrection with vivid colors. Another reason that Pink was picked for the April’s Moon is because it is also the color of Venus, the Governor of Taurus. Egg Moon is an alternative name given to April’s Moon due to its close connection with Ostara (Spring Equinox).

Let the Pink Moon affect your romantic life. People born under the power of Pink moon are great on manipulating energies of Romance and Beauty. Work your magic then and enchant your love life. Let your life bloom!

May: Flower

It is happening all over. The Flowers conquer all lands and the animal kingdom begins to celebrate the new fruitful time. Bees gather around flowers and birds play all over them. Everything seems to grow bigger. Everything seems to become greater, fancier and better. Its officially the Era of Flowers hence your shadow moon name!

The Era of Flower Moon is also the Era of productivity and creativity. The Magical energy is so intense and is very handy even for the novice practitioners. People born under the influence of Flower Moon can use their magical energy for Fertility spells and everything they want to create!

June: Strawberry

For many tribes this is the peak of the Strawberry picking season. This is the time when we feel right and full. Fruits and heat are the keywords defining the era of the Strawberry Moon. Our fertility spells have worked miracles and now we taste the results of them. People born under Strawberry Moon have something unfinished from the Past Lives. They set something in motion and in this life they are going to complete it.

Use the powers of your Strawberry Moon for prosperity and abundance spells. Please understand that in all nature, everything is free. Prosperity is your right, your birth-right! You own the World along with all beings. Use this energy to expand your life and conquer more!

July: Buck

Your Shadow Moon Name is clear. The Buck deer walks proudly over the green land enjoying his life in harmony. Eating fresh green worts, playing with birds and running towards rivers. The Buck Moon is the era of obvious success of Nature. Everything happened according to plan. This year is one more success of Nature. And the magnificent Buck knows that.

The energies of the Buck Moon bless the ones born under it’s influence with imminent success in their lives. If you are a ‘buck’ person you can use your life energy to charge charms to help you succeed in everything. Use the Buck Moon to take control of your life.

August: Red

Red comes from the color of the Moon which looks reddish when rising through the summer heat. The Great blue Lakes are filled with life. The Sturgeon is a large fish often spotted in these lakes. The message is clear. The Waters are calm and seem to connect all nature. The Lakes seem to “communicate” will all waters, the seas, the rainfalls, the rivers and the oceans. Everything is connected.

We are the Sturgeons who swim in these Lakes. We are full of energy and know we are ready to make a step further. People born under the Red Moon can use the energy to connect better with each other and look for people who share the same interests as them!

September: Harvest

The Autumn has arrived and your Shadow Moon Name is here to make you remember it. The corps are ready to harvest and the Wine is prepared. Wine is the ultimate harvest. Not only does it embody the essence of harvest but it also transform is to a potent magical potion capable to lift our spirituality. Remember that Wine is sacred to many religions – including Christianity – and is used as a portal to alter our awareness.

Those born under the influence of the harvest Moon are blessed with a strong intuition and the power to foretell the future. Do this: bless a glass of Red Wine in order to help you open the Gates to other realms. Ask for blessings to charge the Wine in order to become a powerful tool for divination and prophecy.

October: Blood

Your Shadow Moon Name tells you a very interesting story about the time of your birth. You see, Nature’s pace is slowing down and the animal kingdom feasted over the fruitful land for months. It’s time for a hunter to aim for what is now needed. Hunting Rites are very common in Ancient Religions as they symbolise our will to fulfill our lives with what’s missing. Hunting was considered sacred as the ancient hunters honoured the hunted animal in many ways. They always tried to end the life of the prey with a quickest and painless way possible. Blood of the hunted prey which was spilled was considered sacred. Again Diana/Artemis, Goddess of the Moon is associated with the Hunt.

Blood is the essence and carrier of Life’s energy. Honour your blood and raise your energy. It’s the perfect time to empower your every cell and strengthen your aura. Be the hunter and the prey, embrace all nature and connect with Her divine forces. It is also the time to connect with your animal instincts and come closer to the animal in you.

November: Dark

The Days are significantly smaller and the temperature decreases dramatically. We are now preparing for Winter as we walk down the last days of Autumn. The Darkness is powerful but that’s not a bad thing. Balance is restored.

The beavers know what’s coming and humbly prepare for the challenges, this is why it is also known as Beaver Moon. Beavers work hard and come back to their nest with supplies for Winter’s cold nights.

The Dark/Beaver Moon is the Signal that it’s time to focus on indoor activities. People born under its influence are prepared for anything that can happen. Beavers don’t try to impress anyone, but always succeed. Moreover, the Shadow Moon is telling you that you came into this life as you’ve got some unfinished business.

December: Oak

Winter is here, powerful and dominating. The Truth is simple now. Everything falls only to rise again. Right now the energies are slow, cold and dark but this is only one part of truth. Cold signifies the lack of energy. But what’s missing is only a breath away.

The Oak or Cold Moon blesses those born under its influence with a great chance to master candle Magic. Melt the cold from your heart and let the sorrow flow away from you. Light symbolises hope and a new beginning. In the Winter Solstice the Sun God dies and is reborn. Tap into this energy. Light a candle and wish for change!

Your Day of Birth is used for the second part of your Shadow Moon Name:

1st of any month: Leader.

You are born with a natural ability to rule and express your power. Independence is a very important virtue for you. You breathe fire of creativity. Thus you can become a great self-employed individual. On the other hand, the ego-centrism might bring problems in your relationships. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

2nd of any month: Diplomat

You are born with empathic abilities. Balance and intuition are the keys for a happy life. You want to see smiles on everybody’s faces and you warm heart might easily get broken by people who just don’t get you. Beauty, art and music can help you bring balance in your life. You work great in co-operations. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

3rd of any month: Enthusiast

The spark of creativity burns in your heart and its light shines in your eyes. This “X-factor” attracts people around you who truly believe that you have something special on your aura. This charisma can help you in all parts of your life, especially if your work has to do with publicity. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

4th of any month: Reliable

People seem to be attracted by your ability to give them hope and power. It seems that many around you depend on you and your trustworthy character. You are a hard working person but at the same time you are sensitive. Be careful of your energy levels though as they easily get depleted. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

5th of any month: Socialiser

Your communication skills seem invaluable. Everyone around you get easily fascinated by your words and this is a talent you can actually cultivate more to a very commercial extent. Moreover, traveling can become very lucky for you (financially, professionally or personally). See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

6th of any month: Lover

Even from a young age you have a tendency to seek your other half. Hence, you are whole only when you find it. You see, you are a relationship-oriented person with the ability to make a very good family. Somehow, empathically you feel the vibes of your beloved one and know exactly what to do. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

7th of any month: Visionary

Your Shadow Moon name is telling you about your highly developed intuition combined with philosophical tendency and a very sharp mind. You are truly a born Visionary. Your ideas can change the world. Unfortunately you tend to get influenced and ‘drained’ by others around you. Therefore, you need to spend more time alone. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

8th of any month: Boss

The power which is in you is remarkable. This is why you should choose to work alone as you don’t easily get along with partners. Probably, it’s because of your control issues which have to do with your power. You also have a great sense of how to acquire more money. Use this along with power and the results will be remarkable. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

9th of any month: Genius

Although not always very obvious you are indeed my friend a born genius. Your wise traits often push you to acquire even more experiences in order to further broaden your horizons. There are many times in your life when things mysteriously screw up. This is because this life you’re are living has an exceptional karmic significance. But you already know that… Use your wisdom! See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

10th of any month: Transmuter

Whether you’ve realised it yet or not you are born to change the rules. Wherever you are, your aura constantly is changing everything around you as if you are part of a greater mechanism. Have you noticed it? You are born to manage difficult situations and you are really capable on leading. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

11th of any month: Equalizer

Balance is the key for your soul’s bliss. You are born to find the golden section in any possible quarrel and/or partnerships. Your intuitive nature helps you find the most suitable solutions for every kind of issue. Born with empathic ability you can sense when things are going wrong thus get easily hurt. Try spend some time on your own meditating. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

12th of any month: Catalyst

You possess unimaginable amounts of energy which – when used in the right way – can really change the lives of people around. Your body seems to work in a different way than others. As a result, this energy can make you really creative and imaginative, however, if you are in a bad mood, you can become really dangerous. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

13th of any month: Winner

Energy and determination are the two keywords for you. You indeed have the capability to achieve almost anything you can as long as you find a way to combine your – sometimes – diverse and conflicting dreams and goals. You work hard and you can work even harden if you manage to focus on your goals. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

14th of any month: Traveller

Your Shadow Moon Name is telling you something very important. The karmic currents seem to be very powerful in this life for you. You have already noticed that things change easily in your life and in just one day you may reach the top or be get trapped. This flow of energy is what defines you indeed. When traveling, things get magical as if you are born to travel. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

15th of any month: Enchanter/Enchantress

It seems that your aura possesses something really unique which hypnotises others around you and be attracted by it. Your personal magnetism is strong and can be used in both your personal and your professional life. You also do great with arts. Love life is an area which always needs your attention. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

16th of any month: Outlander

Your Shadow Moon Name implies that you come from another World. You probably have realised since a very young age that you don’t belong in this world. This is probably because you are meant to create a new one. Or maybe all that you’ve experienced is a signal to look to other worlds. You see, your whole life is a powerful karmic message. You are born for great things – possibly in the material plane too. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

17th of any month: Gift

It seems that you are blessed with such gifts that makes you so unique. Listen to your heart, as your intuition will probably show you the way to succeed in all areas of your life. You are a truly gifted person whose skills have yet to be discovered. Art could set your powers free, so again, listen to your heart and walk on the path you feel more comfortable with. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

18th of any month: Inspiration

Your Shadow Moon Name is blessed with Divine Energy. Although you can lead successfully, you are better in managing and nurturing projects. This probably comes from your unique empathic ability, which – if cultivated – can help you greater awareness hence broaden your horizons in any possible way. Your magical mind meets creativity. Success is certain if you are patient enough.  See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

19th of any month: Achiever

There is only one thing in your mind and that’s winning in all areas of your life. It seems that you can do that – relatively easy. That’s probably something, other people envy you for. You have that magical something that can open the doors of all opportunities. Your aura possesses attractive abilities. Use it to attract good fortune.  See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

20th of any month: Empath

Its’ quite impossible to turn down your natural intuitive abilities. Actually there are so great that can freak out others. Although your abilities can help you in many areas of your life you have to ground and shield yourself from times to times because all these emotions can turn you into a ticking bomb!  See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

21st of any month: Grace

Your ‘Shadow Moon Name’ could also be ‘famous’ or even ‘celebrity’. You tend to make quite large social circles even from a young age. But even if you don’t prefer the company of many people, you must have already realized that others crave your attention, probably because of your many talents and of course the magical way you communicate. This particular ability is what defines your from all others.  See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

22nd of any month: Calibrator

It’s really amazing how easily you can turn a lost cause into a successful project. This comes naturally to you as your intellectual skills work perfectly with your intuition. Your heart and your mind can create miracles if you learn to keep this balance. Patience is the key. See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

23rd of any month: Medium

Your spiritual magnetism creates an aura of attraction around you. If you learn how to use your natural communication skills together with your amazing charisma you can become really famous and successful. This magical ‘something’ on you is a gift you should definitely learn how to use.  See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

24th of any month: Nurturer

Your kindhearted self is born to give love and affection to anyone around you. This natural tendency is makes you unique and invaluable. People seem to depend and unfortunately … attach to your energy. This is something you must learn to deal with, unless you want to wake up with depleted energy levels.  See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

25th of any month: Guide

Yes, you are a born accomplisher and yes you always try to finish what you’ve already started. However, this is not always something beneficial. You don’t always have to analyse and put so much effort in finishing a project – especially when this project no longer serves your needs. Try to meditate, and reevaluate your goals.  See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

26th of any month: Force

You must already know that your power exceeds time and space. Moreover you are decisive and you can easily find a way to persuade others. However, do not try to control people because even if you succeed at first, you will face the consequences later. Your Shadow Moon name shows you your way and reminds you to stay confident – yet listen to others too!  See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

27th of any month: Analyst

You have an amazing ability to analyse things, people and situations around you. Your powerful mind has the ability to cope with even the most complicated issues and this is why others admire you. Try to find some peace though as you mind needs some rest. Love can help you find balance in your life.  See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

28th of any month: Risk-taker

Challenges come and go, yet you always have something to declare to the World. You are not an easy player. If someone wants to challenge you, s/he should think again. One of your talents is to change the outcome of projects. When things get screwed up, you are the first to call. Play safe though.  See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

29th of any month: Counsellor

That’s what defines you. Your ability to judge and consult others. Your phone probably rings all the time from people asking you what to do. Although, this sometimes can be rewarding, if it happens persistently, it may drive you nuts. Therefore, you should find a way to balance the needs of people around you, with what you truly want.  See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

30th of any month: Charisma

Yes, it’s something on you that is so unique. This particular ‘something’ is so strong that you can use it to attract people you want around you. You are a keen communicator, diplomat and entertainer. Hence you do great when working in group. You make a perfect team leader probably because of your invaluable intellectual skills.  See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

31st of any month: Alchemist

Your ‘Shadow Moon Name’ is quite straight about your organising skills which can build a fruitful and abundant life. You have an amazing ability to work hard but also keep your energy levels high. This makes you surprisingly creative and a born winner. Your self-discipline is remarkable yet you sometimes make it difficult for others to work with you. Let them help you!  See Who’s Your Patron Goddess Based on your Birthday.

What Your Shadow Moon Name?

https://www.magicalrecipesonline.com/2018/05/your-shadow-moon-name-and-what-it-means.html

[zip001]

The Sweetest Thing

“Code blue, code blue. Erratic heartbeat. Starting chest compressions and ventilation.”

“This is a twenty something male, found naked underneath a bank of snow. Unresponsive at the scene.”

So cold, it was so cold and dark. He felt numb.

“Should’ve been DOA - no heartbeat at scene. Why’s he restrained?”

“Partner was gonna call it when the dude just went ape-ship, screaming, kicking. My partner and me both had to hold him down.”

“What was he saying?”

“Gibberish, something about salsa or sienna.”

“Charging in three, one… two… three. Clear!”

Suddenly his whole body felt like it was on fire, from the inside out. So much pain radiating from his chest. Felt hands firmly pressing his chest rhythmically. Something was covering his mouth, something cold and smooth.

No, no. The hands were not her tiny hands. No, no, let me go. I need to get back to her.

Something hard was pushed down his throat. He sputtered and gasped. Everything seemed to stop but for a beeping sound. Beep, beep, beep.

His eyes flew open. He could not see, blinded by the light. So bright, so bright. Benjen said the snow could be so white that a man could be blinded, not knowing where the ground even was or where the white sky began.

But he was not outside.

A small light was shone in his face. He tried to turn away but round hands held his head immobile.

“Mister… do you know why you are here, how you got here? What was the last thing you remember?”

“Snow,” he croaked.

It snowed on her eleventh name’s day, actually started the night before, starting with a delicate sprinkle lightly dusting the trees that grew into a thick blizzard. Old Nan said that it was fitting for the only Stark child born during a Northern, albeit mild winter, scoffing that the other Stark siblings were sweet summer children before ranting about 100 foot high snowbanks that buried entire villages and generations.

He remembered the hustle and bustle in Winterfell as a grand feast was planned for her day. Although Lady Catelyn thought it was not necessary as normally only their family and the Stark household celebrated the other name days of their large brood, Father insisted, wanting something special for his little princess. Normally Father deferred to his lady wife, but this time she acquiesced, with softness in her eyes.

There were rumors that she would soon be going South. Jon heard from the stableboys that the King and his royal family were coming in less than a fortnight, that their little princess would be a princess true, then later a queen. Queen Sansa. He called her that many times in the Old Keep, each time it hurt more and more, but he would never let her know.

The cooks made all of her favorite dishes. Rabbits that Jory and he trapped that Cook braised and stuffed with wild herbs, barley, and stewed fruits. And of course, Sansa’s favorite lemoncakes, buttery cakes with swirls of tart sweet frosting. Cook made extras the night before as she suspected that the little princess and her best friend would pilfer a few, leaving crumbs on the little lady’s bed sheets the next morn like they did the last eleven years. Cook even decorated a few with the letter S, for they were the ones always missing the next day.

What Cook did not know was that there were sticky crumbs in his tiny bed that barely fit him now that he sprouted in the last few months, but still slightly shorter than his Queen.

It always amazed him how Sansa would fit herself so snugly against his body so that they both fit in his bed. He could not tell exactly where his legs began or where hers ended. And she smelled so sweet, better than any of the winter roses he picked and wove into crowns for her. She always blushed a pretty pink and giggled when he told her that.

“Why aren’t you with Jeyne tonight?” he asked when he found her tucked in his bed.

Jon did not expect her here. Normally she would sneak in only during the heavy storms as Jeyne would not sleep with her then, complaining that she kicked and turned every time the winds howled. The blizzards also scared him - he imagined that the snow would completely engulf them, suffocating them to death, even though Old Nan scoffed at the storms, saying that they were merely flurries. He begun to look forward to them as Sansa would be there, holding him as they both fell asleep. Sansa always left before he woke up, but her sweet scent remained.

But there would be no large storm tonight. Father stared into the sky that morn and made that pronouncement. Father gravely nodded that there would be a fine storm for the feast the next day and that “Winter is coming.” Those were the House Stark words - he did not know then what they truly meant.

“Oh, you rather I leave?” Sansa quietly asked as she sat up. She looked nervous, unlike her haughty self, that he (and everyone even Arya) knew was just a facade - Sansa had the kindest and softest heart.

Shaking his head no, he sat next to her and held her close.

“No,” he whispered into her soft hair. He never wanted her to leave. Sansa did not pull away but instead buried her face into his chest. She was upset.

“My fair Queen, w-what would your wish be tonight?” he tried to joke.

Jon was never the jokester - that would be Robb, their brother, who always had a smile and quick quip that made others smile. He was as different from Robb as their little sister Arya was from Sansa. Sun and Moon.

“Do you know what Old Nan said about wishes? If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Her voice was muffled as she did not lift up her face from his chest.

“And so I am a beggar now,” he exclaimed with feigned indignation. “Or are you calling me an animal? A horse may be too fine for the likes of me, perhaps a mule then?”

She finally looked up and smirked, “We know the title of Lord Stubborn as a Mule is already taken - it belongs to the Kraken.”

Jon looked away and blushed bright red, remembering the intimate scene they both saw at the Old Keep, their old meeting place until it was taken over by Lord Mule. Some serving girl was riding the Kraken. Luckily neither the girl who since left nor Theon saw them.

“Arya gave him one of her special surprises again,” Sansa blurted, trying to make her Jon smile.

They both stifled their laughter as Theon did deserve sheep dung in his mattress. They reclined back onto the bed with her lying atop him, her ear pressed against his heart while her hand lazily played with his long curly locks.

Jon knew that she would be upset when he and the rest of the boys had to shorn their hair for the upcoming royal visit. They were orders of her lady mother - they needed to look presentable, not like wildlings. If he were honest, he would miss his locks too.

Finally, she whispered that she knew a secret, giggling as she did. It always made him smile to hear that crystalline giggle. As always, one delicate finger pressed against his lips, although he would never say a word.

“Shhhh,” she admonished as she pretended to tippy toed out of his room, but first comically pretended to look both ways. There was never anyone near his room, far away from the Stark family private quarters and the servant’s quarters.

She ran, and he followed, both bundled in furs and trying to contain their giggles. Tim was asleep again on duty, but luckily the Winterfell walls were tall and strong.

In the storeroom, Jon had to lift her up as Cook hid the covered precious lemoncakes up high, away from any rodents but not high enough from them! After Jon found a half empty bottle of sweet ice wine, they each took one apiece with Sansa swirling the icing on his so that there was a lopsided J on it. They could not eat it there - his Queen whispered that they tasted best in bed.

And she was right. They drank the wine and waited until the moon was at the highest point to take their first bites. Jon shared his lemoncake after she devoured hers and pouted when he pretended that he would not share.

He took the tiniest bites, savoring her happy sighs after each of her bites and giggling at the icing that graced her nose. When he finally pointed it to her, she pretended that she meant to do that, that the Queen is never anything less than poised and oh so dignified, before they both bursted into giggles which deepened into gales of laughter when he pretended to lick it off her nose. She daintily wiped it off with her handkerchief.

As the snow delicately fell outside, Jon watched her fall asleep, her red tipped lashes fluttered. The hush of the snowfall magnified her soft breathing and the nuzzling sounds she made whenever he moved to take a better look at his sweet Sansa with her pert nose still sporting a tiny bit of frosting. Jon looked at her lips - did they taste as sweet as her beloved lemoncakes? He hovered over her, wanting so badly to steal a kiss.

One kiss.

Such a small thing it seemed until her eyes flew open in surprise. But instead of looking at him in disgust and backing away, she looked at him in wonder and smiled.

Whenever times were bleak, when he thought all was lost, Jon always came back to this memory, to her bright smile, to the love in her eyes.

I would always come back for you.

#jonsas7summer #day 1 #food & drink #jonsa #jon x sansa #my writing

[warlock-enthusiast]

Winter

this goes out to @marriedkillianjones who listens to my shit even at 3am and never judges. you deserve all the Jon Snow porn in the world bb

(btw first time writing a thing like that, meaning GOT and reader stuff)

Jon Snow x Reader 

NSFW

You didn’t expect his lips to be soft.

Or his hands to be warm, calloused from wielding a sword for most of his life and fighting battles in the name of the house Stark. He always looks like ice. His skin as fair as those of the creature your Na told you about all those years ago.

The air is heavy with the scent of smoke and wood. His chambers are modest for a king’s and everyone knows that he doesn’t like the title much. Expensive carpets and golden furniture aren’t found in Winterfell. The North is all about strength and dignity. He still acts according to his own code of morality and that is one of the things, which drew you to him. Honor. The downfall of his father.

To be fair, you also didn’t expect to end in his chambers. Honor or not.

The King in the North. The white wolf.

Did he watch you? Found you between a throng of serving girls or close to the stables? The invite came as a surprise and you’ve never tasted wine as sweet as the one he’d offered you. 

His words are few and quiet and his intent clear. Your stomach tingles.

Jon promises that he’d never force you. He offers you the chance to leave, a way out of his chambers and bed without having to face the consequences of denying a king. He’s a decent person, good even, just in his judgement and rule. And very handsome. Your decision was made the moment you’ve entered this room.

You don’t understand why he chose you, but your name is a moan in his throat and you trace the strong line of his jaw and shoulders as you undress him. Vulnerable without his armor and weapons and his eyes sad. You see the melancholy on his face and you feel it with every kiss. It must be hard to be in his position, to hold so much power. His fingers shake. He’s nervous, a bit shy. You open the laces and the dress falls to the floor in a heap. The shift follows and your socks and shoes. He watches you, eyes on your face and breasts on the curve of your hips.

Jon kisses your neck then and you start to forget about the worries and burdens and that awkward feeling in your belly. You feel teeth on your collarbone as he presses his lips against them. His curls tickle your skin and you can feel a smile on his face. Jon seldom smiles and when he does it feels like the first scent of summer after a long winter.

He is strong and he’s holding back himself. You see the strain in his muscles and hear your own breath quicken. How long since he bedded another? You don’t want to dwell on that thought, but it stays with you nonetheless. There is gossip about him needing to take a queen and to have heirs in the near future.

Jon leads you to the bed. Thick furs and soft linen embracing your body. Candles tint the room in a warm light and he pushes you down very gently. He’s looming over you, covering your body with his. And he starts to kiss you again.

His mouth closes around your nipples, sucking until they are swollen and aching and he kisses a path down to your navel, leaving goosebumps all over you. Jon’s hand are on your thighs and you squirm a bit when his thumb finds sensitive skin. And he seems to burn beneath your touch. Your fingertips leave marks on his shoulders and back and you trace blue veins, which hide beneath his skin. Jon misses a breath and takes your hand, before you’re able to touch a scar.

“Everything alright?” He looks up and his hair is messy and his lips are red from kissing you. You nod and he licks the inside of your thighs. Jon spreads your legs further apart and his mouth finds your folds and his tongue presses against the delicate nub there. You try your best not to scream. There is the lingering sensation of pain and lust and it’s too much but perfect. He licks and sucks and you push your body against his face like a wanton. His beard scratches your thighs and it's a welcome distraction from his tongue and lips. Your cheeks are bright red,  your heart hammering inside of your chest, and Jon doesn’t care and starts to quicken his pace. His tongue is everywhere and you feel warmth pool in your stomach, spreading through your body.

You come with a scream. Body going numb for a few seconds and helplessly twitching beneath his touch.

He smiles again.

Jon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and you think about how crude it looks, but when he kisses you again you taste your and his pulse on your tongue. The tips of your fingers prickle in the  aftermath. Your body feels sloppy and you catch his gaze. His eyes look almost black now. Dark and needy and hungry.

You don’t mention the scars on his chest. Ugly, red things speaking of nightmares and his past.

Jon moves and he’s above you again. He carries his weight with his hands and you feel his hardness press against your hips. You don’t dare to take a closer look at his cock. Maybe later, because right now all you’re able to feel are his hands lifting your hips, pulling you very close. His eyes seem to ask, if you’re ready and you whisper his name and he begins to move. He’s gentle first. Stretching you with the tip of his cock, probably trying to make yourself comfortable with his girth, and coating himself in your wetness.

Jon never stops kissing you. Your mouth and lashes, your cheeks and chin. He wraps his the ringers of his right hand with yours. He’s thick and it’s uncomfortable for a bit. Until it isn’t. Your bodies are joined and he grunts against your chest, while you wrap your legs around him. His cock fills you and your free hands searches for something to hold on to. You grab the sheet and wrap it around your fingers. He’s moving faster now. The vulgar sound of his hips slapping against yours echoes through the silence. His mouth is on your breasts and you feel it again. The rise of warmth in your belly and cunt, the goosebumps on your thighs. You need more of him and try to push harder against him. Every part of yourself feels swollen. He makes you come again and your body clenches around his cock and Jon moans your name. It reminds you of a prayer.

His thrusts become irregular and his body jerks, once, twice. His breath is hot on your neck as he spends himself. Beads of sweat are on his forehead and his body slackens. It’s sticky, his semen and your wetness on your thighs as he finally pulls out.

You know about moontea and that it’s unlikely that you carry his child, but you’ll seek out a wise woman to ask after the right herbs. 

Jon nuzzles your neck and makes you forget about that.

He even smells like winter. There is a crispness on his skin and kisses and the promise of ale and and roaring fires. He’s holding you close and you feel safe and wrap your arms around his chest. There is something in his face, though. An emotion you can’t fathom. Some old pain, maybe guilt. You touch his hair and pull him down for another kiss.

Because you didn’t expect his lips to be so soft.

#marriedkillianjones #jon snow #jon snow x reader #got #got fic #headcanons

[lykegenia]

The Things We Hide Ch. 2

The Southern Water Tribe stood for a hundred years against the Fire Nation, indomitable until Sozin's Comet tipped the balance in Fire Lord Ozai's favour. Now, as planned, the South is decimated, Chief Hakoda is a puppet on his throne, and Princess Katara is a political prisoner held in the Fire Nation capital to ensure his good behaviour. But Ozai has little time to gloat. A vigilante masquerading as the Blue Spirit is causing unrest among the people, rebel ships still hound his navy, and right under his nose the South's most powerful waterbender waits with the patience of ice to strike at the very heart of his empire and bring it crashing down.

Chapter 1 on AO3

Words: 3,510 Pairing: Zuko x Katara Chapter Summary: A few weeks after her father’s formal surrender, Katara gets an unexpected visit, and it turns into the first true test of her resolve.

The opulence of the mansion given over to the Water Tribe was nothing to be scoffed at. A complex of large, red-roofed buildings linked by gardens and shaded walkways encircled by sheltering walls, it housed the princess and her personal servants, Water Tribe cooks and guards, and the detachment of Fire Nation soldiers and caretakers assigned to their protection. A separate wing was reserved for Bato, who had taken up the official position as ambassador for his people in the days following Chief Hakoda’s formal surrender. When the entourage arrived after seeing the elders leave for the journey south, they found nothing lacking in either comfort or attention to detail. For Katara, it made the perfect gilded cage.

She sat under the shade of a sprawling rhododendron in the innermost garden of her prison. The courtyard burbled with the comforting sound of the spring that fed the garden’s pond, and it was the only place where she could avoid the Fire Nation guards long enough to read Mimi’s letter. Not that many would be able to puzzle out her friend’s untidy scrawl. At first glance, the letter contained only complaints about the monotonous routine, and the boorish fishermen, and the cold, painting a dreary picture of Water Tribe life as it recovered from its losses.

It’s bad to complain too much about Nanak and the rest snoring. With all the silver trout on the move we hardly get a chance to rest! Not that we need bossy princesses thinking they can do a better job than highly trained professionals, so don’t get any ideas. We heard through Maniuq’s brother there were some schools spawning in the straits, so that’s probably where we’ll head next. Hauling them in stops things getting boring, at least, and the more we catch, the more sea prunes and box urchins there will be left for our dinner. I heard Otter-Penguin Guy doesn’t like sea prunes – can you believe it? Crazy. Who doesn’t like sea prunes?

Katara paused, wondering if that last sentence was part of the code or just outrage at a slur against Mimi’s favourite food. Knowing how Mimi got carried away sometimes, it was probably nothing important. More worrying for Katara was the mention of silver trout – their alias for the Fire Nation Navy. The words brushed off the threat as nothing important, but Katara could sense the strain the constant danger must be putting on the warriors of the Tribe’s guerrilla navy.

Nanak is worried about the tiger-seals. He says they were probably scared away by the fighting because they haven’t been seen at the summer breeding grounds. None of the hunters have seen any signs yet, but we know they’re out there. You know as well as I do that if they aren’t found a lot of people are going to go hungry come winter.

The frown deepened in Katara’s face, pulling the corners of her mouth down in a pout. The missing waterbenders.

“Mistress, you have visitors.”

She jumped at the intrusion, but it was only her nanny, dressed in the light blue and grey tunic of a servant. The lines of her teacher’s mouth were set at severe angles of disapproval, the only sign that she had felt Katara pull water from the pond.

“Who is it, Hama?”

“Fire Lady Ursa, Crown Prince Zuko, and Princess Azula, Mistress. They are waiting in the courtyard with the magnolias.”

Katara felt her heart skip in her chest. Her fingers tightened on the paper in her hands. Was it possible they had found out about their ruse, and had come to arrest her? Had they spent weeks playing good little prisoners only for all their plans to be ruined?

No. She forced her fingers to relax. Foreign as the ways of the Fire Nation were to her, she was sure that if they wanted to drag her away, they would have sent the army, not unguarded royalty. Because if they knew who she really was they wouldn’t take any chances leaving her alive.

“Did they say what they wanted?” she asked in what she hoped was a mild voice.

“Fire Lady Ursa sends her apologies that she was unable to give you a proper welcome to the capital before today, Mistress,” Hama replied. “I believe this is a social visit.”

“Oh.” It would be the first test, then. “Alright. Have Nila bring the tea things to the pavilion, will you?”

“Very well, Mistress.”

Hama bowed and ambled away, playing up the age of her bones to allow Katara a few extra moments to compose herself. Servants flitted through the garden, carrying away the scrolls of poetry and history she had been studying that morning so the pavilion’s spindly little table had room for the fussy Fire nation tea set.

Katara spent her minutes arranging the train of her gown on her seat cushion, passing reassuring glances and nods to her people. They nodded back. Occasionally they brushed hands against the weapons concealed in their tunics as they made ready for their royal guests, certain that if this ‘visit’ by the crown prince and his sister was some kind of ambush, they would be ready.

“Mistress – Mimi’s letter!”

“What? Oh, spirits take it.” She had forgotten it when she set it down on the table. “Get it out of here before they see.”

Keep reading

#zutara #zuko x katara #katara x zuko #avatar: the last airbender #atla #zuko #katara #zutara fanfic #story: the things we hide

[therealjammy]

I Said I’d Wait For You (Fic)

Notes: This is the actual fic that I’m posting on here, for the Tumblr crowd. It’s close to 9k so that’s why there’s a read more. (This was a Valentine’s present for Marina!) 

Summary: Shaw thinks on past friendships and current ones.

Content warnings: Sexual content (light bondage, breathplay), angst, Shaw-centric 

Shaw remembered, very clearly, sitting at this very same bar with Carter. Instead of rain it had been clear that night, a glorious, late summer night that she revelled in because of getting off early. They’d talked until 11 about the various goings-on in their lives, the conversation stemming mostly from Carter’s end and Shaw gladly lending an ear.

           If she were still alive Shaw was certain she’d ask Carter out for a drink and tell her the long-awaited conversation about Root. About their unlikely friendship. Maybe mention that they were a little more than co-workers and two people who shared a bed for several hours before falling asleep together and apart.

           “Well,” Carter said, in that certain way that Shaw knew she meant business if Root ever crossed a line, “as long as you’ve got someone who can handle you, I see no problems. Has she changed as much as you’ve said?”

           “Yes, but some things still remain the same.”

           “Tasers and two guns.”

           Shaw smirked. “That won’t change anytime soon.”

           They toasted on their last glass of whiskey and downed them in sync. The bar emptied out, patrons retiring for the night and going home. Shaw wished the moment would continue for just a little longer, because she liked Carter and admired her; she was hard-working and a person who was almost always on the right side of the law.

           Shaw leaned her head on the back of her seat, closing her eyes briefly. “Maybe you would’ve liked Root,” she said softly, “despite how crazy she sometimes is.” She sat up, resting her hands on the steering wheel of the car. The inside was warm from the heaters while outside was bitterly cold. There was slush on the ground, turned black and brown from tires and dirt. The sky was clear and blue, with little wisps of cloud hanging over the tops of buildings, moving in the cold wind from the north. Shaw wanted a coffee. Maybe she could ask Root if she could splash a little whiskey into it if she got the chance.

           Shaw shifted in the leather seat, running her hands over the steering wheel again. This car was hers. As thrilling as breaking into other people’s nice sports cars was, she figured she had the funds for a decent car. Root teased her only mildly, “Turning over a new leaf.” Though perhaps she was right. They’d started over and the last year and a half was nothing if not a sort of searching adventure, finding themselves again in the rubble Samaritan’s destruction had left behind.

           The passenger side door opened, bringing with it a blast of cold air and a rush of sweet perfume. Root slammed it shut with a sigh and handed Shaw her coffee. The tip of her nose was red and her cheeks were pink from the bitter wind. Root rubbed her hands together in front of the vent, then attempted to get some feeling back into her face. She said, “I managed a little bit of whiskey in that. Should perk you right up.” She leaned back in the seat when she was sufficiently warm. “She tells me this bar holds a certain significance to you.” Root’s eyes bored into the side of Shaw’s head but she didn’t bristle. She wrapped her hands around the hot cup, savouring the taste of honey whiskey still on her tongue.

           “I used to come here with a friend, after her hours. We’d sit and talk for a while over drinks and then go our separate ways. Until the next time.” Another sip of coffee. The whiskey was settling in her belly, creating a warm glow. “I think you know who I’m talking about.”

           Root nodded. “Carter.” She reached for Shaw’s cup, stealing a small sip. “She’s told me about her, of course. Sometimes I wish I would’ve met her but I don’t think she would’ve liked me too much.”

           “She would’ve warmed up to you.”

           “Well.” Root brushed slush from her boots. “I did kidnap Harry, after all. And escaped a psych ward.”

           “You’ve changed since then, Root,” Shaw told her softly. “She could see the good in people. She would see it in you and I think she’d be glad you’re my… friend. Despite your prophet tendencies.”

           Root smiled, almost shy at the compliment. “Thank you.”

           Shaw finished off her cup of coffee and put the car into gear. “Anywhere in particular?” She pulled away from the curb, sparing a last glance at the bar before it was nothing but a small building in the rear view mirror.

           “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

           “Diner it is.”

           The weekend brought them time off. Number duties were handed down to newer assets. While Root was in the shower Shaw was packing a bag, stuffing warm clothes into it and weather-appropriate shoes that had somehow arrived by mail just an hour before. Root had explained as she’d gathered clothes that there was a cabin up in Vermont the Machine had purchased a long time ago as a safe house but it hadn’t been used in years, save for the occasional comings and goings of other assets. They weren’t needed up there, necessarily, but Shaw thought it would be good to get out of the city for a few days. Refresh themselves in the wilderness and let Root have some much-needed downtime.

           Before they left the city they stopped at a grocery store to purchase necessary supplies. Root emerged with an armful of favourite foods, including ice cream. Sometimes she would eat it by the pint while working on code, Shaw knew, even in winter when she complained about the cold the most.

           Back in the car, Root wrapped herself in a blanket, put on a soft CD, and went to sleep. Shaw was left with open road, music she’d never heard before, and the soft static coming from someone’s phone that meant the Machine was listening, watching out for them even though there really was no danger. By now Shaw had become used to the Machine’s watchful eyes and ears, though it was still strange—whenever she had an earwig in her ear and the Machine allowed her to be in God Mode—to have scores of information flooding her brain. She wondered how Root could take it, the near-constant chatter. Did she not ever tire of it?

           Shaw’s free hand rested first on the CD compartment between the seats, then it made its way to Root’s knee. It stayed there for a while, moving whenever Root moved.

           “What’s so special about this Root person anyway?” Cole would’ve asked. “I thought you said she was batshit crazy.”

           “Was?”

           “Is.”

           “She’s a friend,” Shaw told him.

           “That you’ve been sleeping with for well over three years.”

           Shaw punched him in the arm.

           She looked at Root’s sleeping figure, curled up and peaceful even if the position wasn’t all that comfortable. Her hand still rested on Root’s knee. What was special about Root? Besides the fact that she was a talented hacker, a woman who was hot and good with guns and even more excellent in bed? Root understood her. Carter and Cole did too but there was a certain, deeper level of understanding when it came to Root. She could read body language and read the sounds that escaped Shaw’s mouth, understand when she wanted intimacy and when she wanted space.

           “Not thinking of me, are you?” Root asked, voice rough with sleep and bringing Shaw back to the present.

           Shaw put her hand back on the steering wheel. Root yawned widely and reached over to turn the CD off. She switched the seat warmer on instead. Shaw said, “I was.”

           “What about me?”

           “Just wondering what my old friends would think of you.” She left off and dead, knowing perfectly well Root would be able to connect the dots. Root’s face was a mix of emotion, bittersweet. Happy that Shaw was thinking of her, sad that those dead friends that meant so much to her wouldn’t get the chance to meet another important person in her life. Maybe something else too, perhaps thinking that they knew of her reputation and of the incident with kidnapping Finch and dragging him across the country. But many leaves have been turned over since then, and Root was not the same. The woman credited it to the Machine, calling it “rewiring” and “reprogramming.” “She reprogrammed me to care, though it only applied to nine people.” Those nine being the Machine, Shaw, Finch, John, Lionel, Daizo, Jason, Daniel, and Cyrus. Plus Bear. Other people she cared less about, but there were traces of the Machine’s influence when Root’s eyes turned soft with sympathy for the father who hugged his children after returning home safely, or the mother who survived in the hospital and got to hold her son—their number’s—hand and tell him she’d be okay. Shaw supposed it took a benevolent AI to create a benevolent woman.

          Snow was beginning to fall from the sky, the flakes fat and soft. The sky was a grey-orange with the sunset, painting the barren, naked wilderness around the cabin an eerie orange with dramatic shadows. It was silent up here, in the middle of nowhere, the only thing breaking it the sound of Shaw’s axe chopping through firewood and the pieces colliding with each other when she tossed them onto a steadily growing pile. Faraway sounds travelled in the soft ambience of the snow-covered world: the gurgling of a frozen stream, the crack of branches when the snow upon them became too great a weight to bear, the sounds of various forest animals retreating into dens for the night.

           One last piece of wood came onto the chopping block before Shaw set the axe aside, piled the wood up, and carried it into the warmth of the cabin. Her cheeks and nose and fingers tingled at the sudden rush of heat and she found herself sighing in relief. The wood was stacked neatly by the fireplace. Shaw took the poker and blew on parts of the dying fire to make the flames come back to life. They sputtered for a moment and then slowly returned, glowing red-orange.

           The back door was shut and sealed, cutting off the connection to the outside world. Shaw took off her coat and beanie and stood against the island, watching Root stick a toothpick into the dessert cake to be sure that it was done. The ribs were already out and cooling on the small kitchen table nestled against a large square window. It was close enough to the parlour that Shaw felt the heat from the fireplace. She settled in one comfortable wooden chair, staring out into the trees at what light was left shining on them. Soon it would be dark, and when she and Root lay beside each other in bed that night they would hear night time sounds.

           “It’s quiet out here,” Root commented around the last dregs of her soup. Shaw was on her second bowl; Root wasn’t so terrible a cook as she made herself out to be.

           “It’s a nice change.” The ambience was different and unlike the sounds of the city it was something different. A different setting on the white noise machine. “You’ll be able to see the stars in a little while.” And when they did it reminded Shaw of those nights in the desert, the endless sand and the endless expanse of sky with billions of stars glowing white and blue and red above their heads. Their breaths steamed in the cold air and the snow underneath their bodies was a soft cushion.

           “I never could see these so clearly,” Root said softly, her tone the one she used when talking to both Shaw and the Machine. “I’d be too buried in big cities to even notice the skies.” She exhaled a long breath, looking like cigarette smoke. “It’s hard to believe there’s so many. Do you ever think that we’re not alone? That we’re not the only source of life?”

           Shaw pondered the question. “What does She say?”

           “She says the universe is vast and expansive and that the probability of us being the only lifeforms is something we can only guess at.”

           “Then it’s possible we’re not alone.” Shaw turned her head to look at Root, snow crunching with the movement. “But if you’re talking about being alone on Earth, you’re not.”

           “That’s not what I was playing at, Sameen,” said Root softly, her hand crawling into Shaw’s gloved one, “but thank you.” Root kissed her on the cheek, lips warm against the chilled skin. They stayed there for a few moments longer, watching the stars, Root wishing on shooting ones, murmuring them quietly to herself. “I wish for a good life” and “I wish for happy times ahead, not just for me but for everyone else.” She said to Shaw, “Aren’t they beautiful?”

           A large one streaked overhead, the tail a white-blue before vanishing in a matter of seconds. Three more followed afterwards, glowing white against the cold sky.

           Shaw replied, “Yeah.”

           It was one kiss, in the bar when it was just two men in leather jackets watching the last of a baseball game playing above the bar on flat-screen TVs. Quick but tender, filling Shaw’s nose with spicy perfume and the lingering scent of someone’s rich chewing tobacco. It was one kiss and then Carter murmured, “Two minutes.” She didn’t need to say more than that for Shaw to know she would be going home with her. One kiss, then many, and only one night. Shaw tugged on her jeans with watchful eyes on her back, then pulled on her boots. For a moment she sat on the edge of the melancholy-coloured bed, staring out the window that offered a view across the Hudson and the sparkling lights of the Manhattan skyline.

           “I should get going,” Shaw said after a while.

           “I don’t expect you to stay for coffee,” Carter told her, a smile in her voice.

           Shaw let a smirk tug the left corner of her mouth up. “Even if you offered I’d decline.” She rose from the bed, shrugging on her jacket in one smooth movement. It was nearly midnight. She’d have to get up in six hours and wasn’t sure if she’d find Root crashed on her couch again.

           “Be careful out there,” Carter warned. She was sitting up now, a plain T-shirt on that screamed of her military days. “Things are changing that we have no control over. Makes my day job a hell of a lot harder.”

           To tell her of the existence of Samaritan would be a wrong move, Shaw thought, adjusting her ponytail even though there was no need to. Carter had enough on her mind, what with trying to take down HR practically singlehandedly. It wouldn’t be good to occupy her mind with the existence of another evil thing and make her wonder about their own lives, who the man—or, in this case, machine—behind the curtain was.

           Shaw said, “I will be. But I can’t promise we’ll come home without a scratch.”

           “See you later, soldier.” Carter’s teeth gleamed in the incandescence of the bedroom lamplight.

           Shaw gave a little salute, and let herself out.

           As expected, Root was curled up on her couch, lanky limbs bent in seemingly awkward positions. One of Shaw’s flannel blankets was thrown over her shoulders and there was a pillow under her head. One of Root’s socked feet stuck out from underneath the blanket.

           Shaw was getting herself a glass of water when Root was roused. She asked sleepily, “You have a good time?”

           Whiskey, spicy kisses, handcuffs, creaking bed, five satisfying orgasms. Contentment walking out the door, though nothing compared to nights with Root.

           “I did,” Shaw replied, and Root smiled at her.

           “Good.” The warmth in that smile, the sick look of adoration in those liquid brown eyes, churned Shaw’s stomach in a way she was not familiar with. She swallowed several gulps of water and the glass slid into the sink a little louder than she’d meant it to.

           “Sleep well, Root.”

           Somehow walking out that night had reminded her of countless nights walking away from strangers’ homes and buddies’ apartments in her military days, of walking back to her own quarters after nights spent with Cole. She thought back on the casualty of it all, how she and him could meet in bed and then return to normalcy the day after, like it hadn’t even happened. Clearing her head in the summer or winter air, gazing out at stars if they so happened to be visible, feeling satisfied, like she’d just eaten a damn good steak and every side that came with it. Root gave her the same feelings, though with her, something else hung in the air. Maybe her lovesick eyes, like Cupid had shot her in the ass with his little cherub bow. Maybe it was Root’s flirting, the double meanings in some of her clever sayings. Maybe it was the way her hands lingered a little too long to be casual. Shaw would shrug her hands off and Root wouldn’t look hurt, just lay back against the pillows and watch Shaw like she wanted to devour her all over again with a little spark of something in her eyes.

           Shaw allowed the lingering hands now. Samaritan had turned both of them into something else but still had their authenticity intact. Root’s hands running over her skin or fingers tracing the many scars on her back was soothing and grounding, something that filled Shaw with a strange but familiar contentment. Root likened her to a cat and said, often, that each time she ran her fingers over Shaw’s skin like this she could swear Shaw would start purring.

           “I’ve run out of lives,” Shaw said.

           “No, you’ve still got plenty more,” Root assured her, kissing her on the head. She pulled Shaw tighter against her. The tip of Shaw’s nose pressed between her breasts. “Nothing kills you.” A whisper of cold air leaked through the window, raising gooseflesh on both their bare skin. Shaw pulled the covers higher. Root’s cheek rested against her head.

           “How many would you say I have?”

           Root hummed, fingers tapping between Shaw’s shoulder blades. “Seven. A lucky number.”

           “Mm.” Shaw pressed her lips to the warm skin in front of her, Root’s chest expanding with a breath. The hand at her back stiffened, staying there to hold her close while the other got buried in her hair, short fingernails digging into scalp. “You gonna put that on a jersey and give it to me as a present?”

           “Well,” Root said, pondering now, “your birthday is in three months. But I don’t have to get you a jersey. I could get you something more practical.”

           Shaw moved up, kissing around a nipple now, “Such as?”

           “New guns, maybe that sports car you were looking at on the lot last month, a new version of that toy you suspiciously lost…” Root trailed off, her breath coming shorter. She grunted and pulled away to flip onto her back, spreading herself out, an offering. Shaw took her hair down, setting the ponytail around her wrist. She leaned over Root, allowing her face to be cupped between warm hands. “Getting any ideas?”

           “Whatever you give me,” Shaw murmured, leaning down to kiss her, “I’ll be perfectly content with.”

           Root kissed back gently, sighing happily into it. They lay there for a long stretch of minutes until Root asked for the window to be open just a crack and for the fire to be started again. Sometimes she liked to set a mood and tonight, Shaw was willing to go along with it. So cold air was let in, crisp and fresh and smelling like snow and pine trees, and the fire was rekindled, crackling warmly in the fireplace.

           Shaw settled herself on the bed, letting Root settle her weight on her waist. Shaw’s hands made their way to Root’s stomach, gracing over muscles that were months in the making. In the firelight the scars on Root’s torso were silvery and orange. Lines of muscle were outlined and cast in dramatic shadows. She looked ethereal, Shaw thought, a surge of want spreading through her limbs, wanting to be pliant to Root’s will.

           Root reached down and moved one hand to a breast, leaning down to kiss Shaw gently on the mouth.

           “I want to take you slowly,” she said. “Is that okay?”

           “As long as you order me around.”

           Root hummed. “Keep your hands up here until say otherwise.”

           This kind of sex produced a slow heat, with soft sounds of want and no obscene colliding of skin on skin that rougher sex brought with it. It wasn’t Shaw shouting at rough thrusts or teeth digging sharply into the sinew of her neck, or Root whining wantonly into pillows or the crook of her elbow when taken from behind. It was, instead, gentle kisses, breathing hotly and deeply into curves of shoulders or hair, hands squeezing waists or digging into supple flesh to draw them closer, the slow, searching, body-consuming orgasm that caused limbs to tremble and stomach muscles to twitch, caused Root to whimper into Shaw’s neck and Shaw to hold her close.

           Cold air washed over them, chilling the sweat on their skin. Shaw looked up, making eye contact for a rare occasion. They kissed softly, the only sounds breaking the silence being the quiet breeze coming through the window, the crackle of flames, the creaking of the cabin as it settled, and the sounds of buckles being undone.

           “Want to go back home soon?” Root asked, still regaining breath. “It feels a little too quiet here.”

           “Give it another day,” Shaw said, stroking strands of hair away from Root’s face. “I could stand one more.”

           “Does that mean what I’m thinking it means?” She reached for the drawer again, but Shaw guided her hand back, fingers wrapped around a delicate wrist.

           “Just you.”

           Root raised Shaw’s hand to her mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to her palm. “Okay Sameen.”  

           The weather was miserable. NBC predicted a snowstorm was going to blow through in the next couple days, dumping more snow onto the city. For now the skies were a clear blue with small wisps of smoke-like clouds hovering above the skyscrapers and the sidewalks were a mix of salt and slush. The wind was bitter and bit mercilessly at Shaw’s face even when she rounded the corner towards Cole’s parents’ house. It still had Christmas lights hanging even though Christmas was a while ago.

           “Still visiting my parents even after all these years, Shaw?”

           “You know why I do it.”

           “You were never obligated to.”

           “I know. But they deserved to hear the news from me too.”

           Shaw stomped the snow from her boots on the soggy welcome mat before ringing the doorbell.

           She’d left Root at her apartment, sitting in front of her MacBook Pro eating a pint of Rocky Road. “You’ll know where to find me if you need something,” she’d said. When Shaw kissed her goodbye she tasted that damn ice cream.

           The door opened slowly, creaking on its hinges, and Miranda Cole ushered Shaw in, wearing a turtleneck sweater and comfortable jeans. The house was warm and smelled like cinnamon. There were still family pictures hanging on the walls that Shaw never tired of seeing: High school pictures of Cole, vacation pictures of a scrawny, tow-headed boy with piercing blue eyes with sunburnt cheeks and shoulders, college graduation pictures taken outside of MIT. Other pictures included family portraits—in which Shaw could see that Cole looked like his father but with his mother’s hair and eyes—more vacation pictures in various seasons, like winter treks in the Canadian wilderness, a spring walk through Washington, DC, underneath hundreds of blooming cherry trees, a summer walk along a beach somewhere in the tropics, a fall adventure in pumpkin patches and apple orchards, and several birthday portraits. All of Cole at various ages, from little to college aged. The pictures stopped at his 26th birthday, in 2006, just before he was recruited.

           “I have a few bags of your usual tea, Sameen,” Miranda said from the kitchen, just a little ways down the hall. “Unless you’d like something a little stronger?”

           It was eleven in the morning, a little early for a glass of scotch or whiskey. “I’ll have the tea.” It was a homemade black tea with leaves imported from England, and there was cinnamon, orange peels, and rose hips added to the tea leaves for flavour. Shaw took this tea with no milk and usually one small spoonful of brown sugar. It was the tea that Miranda offered on Shaw’s very first visit here, when she told Miranda and Mr. Cole the news of her friend’s death. They’d already heard it from two ISA agents a few days before, but to hear it from Cole’s co-worker and friend made it all the more real.

           “Hello.” She’d stuck out her hand, keeping it stable. “I’m Sameen.”

           And every year since Shaw came by to check up on them. She never knew why, just that they were her last living connection to someone she’d grown close with over a period of five years.

           Despite the largeness of the house the kitchen was the only smaller thing. It was cosy, though, reminding Shaw of the kitchen in the house she grew up in, when her father would come whistling downstairs and embrace her mother, and then they would dance to his whistling of a classic Iranian love song before he had to go to work.

           The kettle on the stove whistled until it was turned off. Shaw tapped her fingers on the table top, staring out the window onto the quiet street. The clouds were beginning to build up again, obscuring the brilliant blues of the sky.

           “Here’s your tea, dear.”

           Shaw wrapped her cold hands around the steaming brown mug. The spice of cinnamon filled her nostrils and warmed her insides. “Thank you.”

           Cole had, of course, told his parents a little about Shaw in the time that they knew each other, before his death. He couldn’t say much, only that he’d met someone. In the attic of the Cole household there was a box of tape recordings his parents kept when he would send them messages from different states or overseas, wherever the missions took them. The very first one was from October of 2007, when he and Shaw first met.

           “Hey, Mom. That new job’s going well. I uh… I’ve met this girl. She’s interesting, but damn good at her job. I’m sorry I can’t really tell you much about it, but what I can tell you is that the paperwork is an absolute nightmare.” A pause. “Well, I should go. That co-worker gets a bit impatient if I stay here too long.”

           Shaw never stayed very long on her visits, an hour at most. It was enough time to catch Miranda—and Mr. Cole, if he happened to be home—up on the current comings and goings of her life and give them the chance to tell her how they were getting along. Cole’s death had been five years ago but still the effects were felt. Clouds seemed to loom inside the household. It appeared abandoned in a way, and Shaw wondered if she were to go upstairs to Cole’s bedroom or to the attic if sheets would’ve been placed over his belongings or if the bedroom was emptied of them and remodelled. Miranda always gave her permission to wander in the house but Shaw never ventured upstairs. Somehow it felt wrong to do so. Instead she stayed downstairs and spent most of her time in the picture hallway or in the den where there were large bookshelves filled with both books and movies. Some had boxed board games from Cole’s childhood, collecting dust, the edges taped many times over. There were still Cole’s favourite movies on the shelves too, declared so by his neat handwriting on the spines in Sharpie, or, from younger times, a messy, childish scrawl of Crayola marker or crayon. She remembered him talking about these movies every once in a while, between dull numbers and the moments between night and day when neither of them slept for very long. His favourite books, however, hadn’t been marked the same as the movies. Instead they were marked by little pieces of coloured tape with an F on them, taped to the spines. It’d been so long since Shaw sat down and read an actual book. There was always something to keep her busy and on her feet, hardly any downtime. But now that the war with Samaritan was over and things were finally beginning to calm down again, there would be time to pick up one of those novels, read it cover to cover, and discover another part of Cole that she hadn’t seen before.

           “You can take some of those books with you if you’d like,” said Miranda, stepping carefully behind Shaw but being mindful to keep a respectful distance away. “I know you’ll return them safely.”

           Shaw chose the books carefully, burying herself deep in memories of Cole telling her book recommendations. In the end there were four in her arms: The Millennium Trilogy books and a skinny book called The Member of the Wedding. The paperback covers were bent a little but other than that, the books were in pristine condition. Very unlike the books Shaw had bought in her college days, which were already filled with dozens of highlight and pen marks, books which she herself wrote in but in pencil.

           “Thank you for the tea,” Shaw said. She adjusted the buttons on her coat and pulled her beanie over her head. “And the books.” She gazed at the covers for a moment. “I’ll come back in a couple days.”

           “I’d like that.” Then, when Shaw was walking towards her car around the corner, “Take care of yourself, Sameen.”

           Shaw gave a little salute.

           The books were set carefully in the passenger seat before taking off. There was a cold cup of coffee sitting in the cup holders, left over from this morning. It mixed with the soft scent of artificial pine tree from the air freshener that hung from the rear-view mirror, which Root had gotten her a while back. Shaw flicked it as if it were an insect.

           She drove to the cemetery where Cole was buried. Both Miranda and Mr. Cole’s names were on the headstone, but unlike theirs, Cole’s was the only one that bore a death date. “A tragedy,” Hersh had said, “that the son should die before the parents.” And maybe it was. He’d had a whole life ahead of him and it was ripped away too soon. Would he have gotten out of the ISA eventually? Settled down, had a wife and kids? The world didn’t know, nor did Shaw, who probably knew him best.

           “Relax, Shaw; you look a bit put out.”

           Shaw sighed, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. “Visiting your mother is never easy,” she told him. “But she let me borrow some books.”

           “You’d better read them,” Cole said, turning away now, that smile in his eyes, “else I’ll read them to you in your sleep. You hated when I read aloud.”

           Shaw bent down to pluck the dead, dried flowers from the headstone. She made a mental note to buy fresh ones, and remembered that out of all the favourite things Cole had told her about, he’d never told her his favourite flower.

           “Hope you’re happy with daffodils.”

           When she got home, hours later, nightfall already descended upon the world, Root was in the shower. An empty pint of Rocky Road sat beside her open laptop, the spoon stuck to the inside. Her laptop was open but dark, and when Shaw walked by it, the camera light flashed hello in Morse code. Shaw merely nodded and felt the Machine’s watchful eyes as she collapsed on the bed to remove her boots. Her coat and hat were in the entryway.

           The bathroom was steamy and lavender shampoo filled the air. There was a faint, foggy outline of Root visible through the glass, rinsing shampoo from her hair, eyes closed against the onslaught of hot droplets. She didn’t stir even when Shaw’s clothes hit the tiled floor but came to attention when, in a sudden surge of tenderness, Shaw placed hands on her waist and leaned her forehead between Root’s shoulder blades.

           “Hey sweetie,” Root murmured. She stroked the top of Shaw’s hand. “Everything okay?”

           “Mind if I stay with you for a bit?”

           “Not at all.” Root turned around, cupped Shaw’s face in her hands. “She told me you went to visit someone. Did it go well?”

           “For the most part.” Shaw reached up to rub away a smear of mascara from Root’s cheek, which was flushed from the heat of the shower stall. “She let me borrow some books. They were uh, Cole’s favourites—some of his favourites, anyway.” Shaw stared at their feet, the hot water travelling around them in order to get to the silver drain.

           “I see.” Root’s nose was pressing tenderly against the side of her head, close to her ear. “Do you miss him?”

           “Sometimes,” Shaw replied after a moment. “Not all the time.” It was the same with Carter. Losing friends was never an easy thing, and though most people felt like part of themselves died with that friend, to Shaw it was just a feeling of strange emptiness. Or an area of a picture that had faded but the rest stayed the same.

           She stood on tiptoe to give Root a kiss. There was the lingering scent of mint toothpaste but her lips just tasted like the shower water. Shaw closed her eyes, to better feel the kiss and let her body absorb the tenderness that Root showed her despite the fingernails that dug into the flesh of her waist. It was a rare thing for sex to occur in the shower, since Root had slipped once and ended up with a nasty bruise just above her left eyebrow. They kissed instead, a mix of tongue and teeth, until Root pulled away to let Shaw wash her hair.

           “You can sleep with me after,” she said, smiling a little as she dressed in her silk pyjamas. It was tempting, Shaw thought, to undo the buttons and kiss the triangle of pale chest, or tenderly tease a prominent nipple through the fabric of the shirt until it was wet. Root left the door cracked, her outline visible in front of her laptop.

           Later, Root’s hands clenched and unclenched in their bonds, her chest heaved, and her hips twitched upward. Shaw was practically worshipping her chest with kisses and teasing strokes of tongue and teeth but declined to call it that. She wanted to know if it was possible to reach climax like this, and Root was a willing test subject, if a little impatient. But, minutes later, a deep bite to a nipple had her tilting her head back in a soft, pleasured outcry, and the breath exhaled afterwards was proof of Shaw’s theory being proven correct. She kissed Root deeply while undoing the handcuffs.

           When her hands were free she cupped Shaw’s face in her hands, combing strands of still-wet hair away and tucking them behind Shaw’s ears. Root bit her lip; fingertips were stroking just below her navel.

           Shaw kissed her again but kept it brief, moving her lips lower and lower. Root’s hands buried themselves in her hair, pushing her head—and, essentially, her whole body—down in the bed until it was level with the inside of a thigh marked with both scars and stretch marks.

           She stayed there for almost an hour, Root a writhing mess underneath her each time she was denied. In the end Shaw wrapped a hand around Root’s throat, keeping enough pressure to restrict her breath just slightly. Root’s fingers stayed on her wrist in encouragement, shuddering, her body twitching as she gasped.

           “Sam.”

           Shaw allowed her a languid kiss. A hand slid down her stomach and Shaw bit Root’s lip when fingers slid inside.

           When Root fell asleep and Shaw was in between worlds, she could still taste Root on her mouth.  

           Shaw’s whiskey was cradled between her hands, the glass sweating in the warmth of the bar, ice cubes already melting. The earlier adrenaline had long since worn off, leaving her with a feeling of irritation. Her trigger finger was, admittedly, satisfied because of Root’s doing and the mission the Machine had given them both earlier in the day. But the mood it left her with was one Shaw was familiar with, the same one she’d felt merely days after her escape from Samaritan and its destruction: a feeling that it was possible this was all a dream.

           She scooped an ice cube from her drink and wrapped her hand around it, letting the cold sting soak into sinew and between her fingers. She half-expected the Machine to text her with reassurances. Shaw met the security camera above the bar and the red light blinked once. I’m watching, it said.

           “You burnt out about something, Shaw?”

           Shaw shook her head, downed a sip of watery whiskey. “I just have a feeling,” she replied, sparing Carter a glance. She wasn’t wearing her detective uniform. Instead she was dressed semi-casual: maroon blouse, dark jeans, leather jacket, boots. Her hair smelled like that spicy perfume she always wore mixed with Aussie brand hairspray. “I don’t know,” Shaw said at last, gulping down the rest of her whiskey and summoning the bartender for a second one, no ice. “It’s complicated.”

           “Feelings almost always are.”

           There were only a few hours of daylight left by the time Shaw emerged from the bar. The temperature was a comfortable 42 Fahrenheit and the breeze was as soft as one of Root’s kisses. Shaw adjusted her coat and stepped to the curb to hail a cab. The inside was warm and smelled like seasonal pine trees, the kind Root had hauled into her apartment around Christmas and decorated with brand new glass ornaments, colourful lights, and silver garland. The scent triggered a clear memory of hospital co-workers walking in with bags and purses smelling of pine trees during the Christmas week, tending to trauma patients and patients coming round from anaesthetic.

           Shaw told the driver the address of the cemetery where Cole was buried. The drive took half an hour, since evening traffic was beginning to pile up—people on their way home from work. There were abundances of them crowded on the slushy sidewalks, wrapped up against the oncoming cold that was the threat of a later snowstorm. Six inches of fresh powder was expected to fall sometime during the night.

           There weren’t many people in the cemetery this time of evening. They preferred to visit when the sun was high and not casting yellowing colours. Shaw picked her way around headstones, through well-trod paths other feet had left in the long dead grass, to Cole’s grave. The daffodils from last week were already dead, the petals dried and blown away with the wind, save one, still clinging onto the flower. She didn’t have the heart to pluck it away.

           “Your mother lent me some of your books,” Shaw said. “They were the ones you told me about. I haven’t started them yet.” The headstone stared back at her, the death date boring into her skull. What had she promised, the day she saw the coffin being buried from afar, when Miranda’s composure had finally broken and she wept over the American flag folded and clutched against her chest? “I promised you I would read them when I had the time, but you know my life was busy for all those years afterwards.”

           “I know.”

           Shaw swallowed, throat suddenly dry, tongue glued to her teeth. She stood there for a while longer, the sun casting shadows on the headstones, a very faint warmth. Then, softly, “I was asked if I missed you. For a while I didn’t know what that was like, but… things changed.” She straightened her coat and put her cold hands inside her pockets. “I do miss you.”

           The next week she came back to replace the flowers in both Cole and Carter’s graves. She didn’t spend much time talking to them but knew that, wherever they happened to be, they would understand.

#root x shaw #fan fiction #long post #person of interest #idk how else to tag this

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Strawberries Quotes

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• A field trip. You interested in doing something dangerous, and possibly illegal?” Does it involve underage girls, broken curfews and soorte4d fruit toppings?” I dropped the empty can into the recycling bin and leaned against the kitchen peninsula, grinning like an idiot. “Two of the three. And I could probably scrounge up some strawberry jam, if you’re desperate.” “I’m never desperate,” Tod said, only his voice hadn’t come from my phone. I whirled around to see the reaper standing behind me, still holding his cell. “But for the record, I prefer apricot.” “Yuck. Nobody likes apricot jam. – Rachel Vincent • A girl told me my lips looked like somebody had pressed strawberry yogurt against my face. – Katherine Heigl • A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger after him. Coming to a precipice, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself down over the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Trembling, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. Only the vine sustained him. Two mice, one white and one black, little by little started to gnaw away the vine. The man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted! – Gautama Buddha • A man was found dead covered in sprinkles, strawberry sauce and a flake. Reports said he may have topped himself. – Frank Carson • A red rose peeping through a white? Or else a cherry (double graced) Within a lily? Centre placed? Or ever marked the pretty beam, A strawberry shows, half drowned in cream? Or seen rich rubies blushing through A pure smooth pearl, and orient too? So like to this, nay all the rest, Is each neat niplet of her breast. – Ovid • a salesman is an it that stinks to please but whether to please itself or someone else makes no more difference than if it sells hate condoms education snakeoil vac uumcleaners terror strawberries democ ra(caveat emptor)cy superfluous hair – e. e. cummings • A typical Irish dinner would be: cream flavored with lobster, cream with bits of veal in it, green peas and cream, cream cheese, cream flavored with strawberries. – Nancy Mitford • A white truffle, which elsewhere might sell for hundreds of dollars, seemed easier to come by than something fresh and green. What could be got from the woods was free and amounted to a diurnal dining diary that everyone kept in their heads. May was wild asparagus, arugula, and artichokes. June was wild lettuce and stinging nettles. July was cherries and wild strawberries. August was forest berries. September was porcini. – Bill Buford • About one thing the Englishman has a particularly strict code. If a bird says Cluk bik bik bik bik and caw you may kill it, eat it or ask Fortnums to pickle it in Napoleon brandy with wild strawberries. If it says tweet it is a dear and precious friend and you’d better lay off it if you want to remain a member of Boodles. – Clement Freud • All schools, all colleges, have two great functions: to confer, and to conceal, valuable knowledge. The theological knowledge which they conceal cannot justly be regarded as less valuable than that which they reveal. That is, when a man is buying a basket of strawberries it can profit him to know that the bottom half of it is rotten. – Mark Twain • All this talkin’ about eatin’ is makin’ me awful hungry. I’ll have two chili burgers with an order of fries, onion rings and a chocolate milk shake. And a Strawberry Ice Cream Sundae-with pickles. – George Lindsey • And a refrigerator may hold a basket of strawberries, which would be important if a maniac said to you, “If you don’t give me a basket of strawberries right now, I’m going to poke you with this large stick.” But when the two elder Baudelaires and Quigley Quagmire opened the refrigerator, they found nothing that would help someone who was wounded, dying of thirst, or being threatened by a strawberry-crazed, stick-carrying maniac. – Daniel Handler • And now — now it only remains for me to light a cigarette and go home. Dear God, only now am I remembering that people die. Does that include me? Don’t forget, in the meantime, that this is the season for strawberries. Yes. – Clarice Lispector • And when my body shall cease, my soul will still be yours, Claire? I swear by my hope of heaven, I will not be parted from you.” The wind stirred the leaves of the chestnut trees nearby, and the scents of late summer rose up rich around us; pine and grass and strawberries, sun-warmed stone and cool water, and the sharp, musky smell of his body next to mine. “Nothing is lost, Sassenach; only changed.” “That’s the first law of thermodynamics,” I said, wiping my nose. “No,” he said. “That’s faith. – Diana Gabaldon • Any chance of getting something sweet to go with my coffee?” [Finn] asked in a hopeful voice. I arched an eyebrow at him. “You mean all those pieces of strawberry pie that you ate for lunch weren’t enough?” “I’m a growing boy,” Finn said in a sincere tone. “I need my vitamins.” Bria snorted. “The only thing that’s growing on you, Lane, is your ego.” Finn sidled up to my sister and gave her a dazzling smile. “Well, other things of mine also tend to swell up in your presence, detective. – Jennifer Estep • Anyone who imagines that all fruits ripen at the same time as the strawberries knows nothing about grapes. – Paracelsus • Are you going to give a speech?’ she asked gaily. He gave a choked laugh. ‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘Not for ages.’ ‘My cousin Davey gave one on his very first day!’ … ‘In the Lords, I remember. It was about how he didn’t like strawberry jam.’ ‘Be nice, Charles! It was a speech about fruit importation, which I admit devolved into something of a tirade.’ She couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Still, you could talk about something more important.’ ‘Than jam? Impossible. We mustn’t set the bar too high, Jane. – Charles Finch • As our lives speed up more and more, so do our children’s. We forget and thus they forget that there is nothing more important than the present moment. We forget and thus they forget to relax, to find spiritual solitude, to let go of the past, to quiet ambition, to fully enjoy the eating of a strawberry, the scent of a rose, the touch of a hand on a cheek… – Michael Gurian • Ask of Her, the mighty Mother. Her reply puts this other Question: What is Spring?- Growth in every thing –

Flesh and fleece, fur and feather, Grass and green world all together, Star-eyed strawberry breasted Throstle above Her nested

Cluster of bugle blue eggs thin Forms and warms the life within, And bird and blossom swell In sod or sheath or shell. – Gerard Manley Hopkins • Asking me what I think of Oscar (Hammerstein) is like asking me what I think of the Yankees, Man o’ War and Strawberry Sundaes. – Billy Rose • Assumptions are dangerous things to make, and like all dangerous things to make – bombs, for instance, or strawberry shortcake – if you make even the tiniest mistake you can find yourself in terrible trouble. – Daniel Handler

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Strawberr', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_strawberr').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_strawberr img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Blueberries, strawberries and blackberries are true super foods. Naturally sweet and juicy, berries are low in sugar and high in nutrients – they are among the best foods you can eat. – Joel Fuhrman • Bonnie who had never hurt a – a harmless thing for malice. Bonnie who was like a kitten making airy pounces at no prey at all. Bonnie with her hair that was called something strawberry but that looked simply as if it was on fire. Bonnie of the translucent skin with the delicate violet fjords and estuaries of veins all over her throat and inner arms. Bonnie who had lately taken to looking at him sideways with her large childlike eyes big and brown under lashes like stars… – L. J. Smith • But don’t forget, in the meantime, that this is the season for strawberries. Yes. – Clarice Lispector • But I’d like the pie heated and I don’t want the ice cream on top I want it on the side and I’d like strawberry instead of vanilla if you have it if not then no ice cream just whipped cream but only if it’s real if it’s out of a can then nothing.- Meg Ryan

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• Cold Mountain Buddhas Han Shan Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness be dancing. Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning. The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry, The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony Of death and birth. – T. S. Eliot • Darryl Strawberry has been voted to the Hall of Fame five years in a row. – Ralph Kiner • Dating a new man is like holding a strawberry milkshake; first the taste, then the pleasure. – Marilyn Monroe • Doubtless God Could Have Made A Better Berry, But Doubtless God Never Did – Izaak Walton • Dried oregano has thirty times the brain-healing antioxidant power of raw blueberries, forty-six times more than apples, and fifty-six times as much as strawberries, making it one of the most powerful brain cell protectors on the planet. – Daniel Amen • Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life; it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life. – Pema Chodron • Eat more berries. Blueberries, strawberries, raspberries and other varieties have anthocyanins that can help reverse some loss of balance and memory associated with aging. – David H. Murdock • Eating alone is a disappointment. But not eating matter more, is hollow and green, has thorns like a chain of fish hooks, trailing from the heart, clawing at your insides. Hunger feels like pincers, like the bite of crabs; it burns, burns, and has no fur. Let us sit down soon to eat with all those who haven’t eaten; let us spread great tablecloths, put salt in lakes of the world, set up planetary bakeries, tables with strawberries in snow, and a plate like the moon itself from which we can all eat. For now I ask no more than the justice of eating. – Pablo Neruda • Every child should have mud pies, grasshoppers, water bugs, tadpoles, frogs, mud turtles, elderberries, wild strawberries, acorns, chestnuts, trees to climb. Brooks to wade, water lilies, woodchucks, bats, bees, butterflies, various animals to pet, hayfields, pine-cones, rocks to roll, sand, snakes, huckleberries and hornets; and any child who has been deprived of these has been deprived of the best part of education. – Luther Burbank • Everyone thinks you’ve been kidnapped,” he said. “We’ve been scouring the ship. When Coach Hedge finds out- oh, gods, you’ve been here all night?” “Frank!” Annabeth’s ears were as red as strawberries. “We just came down here to talk. We fell asleep. Accidentally. That’s it.” “Kissed a couple of times,” Percy said. Annabeth glared at him. “Not helping! – Rick Riordan • For those dependent on their gardens for fresh food, it was often a case of feast or famine… (One settler wrote), “Strawberries were now so plentiful that… I made 287 lbs of jam…” – Bee Dawson • Gooseberries should be mainstream berries! Why are chemically fattened strawberries a thing? Why not the delicious gooseberry? – Andrew Dost • Grapes are juicy. Strawberries. Oranges. Good pork chops are succulent,” said Dusty. “But the word isn’t accurately descriptive of a person.” Smiling with delight, Ahriman said, “Oh, really, not accurately descriptive? Be careful housepainter. Your genes are showing. What if I were a cannibal? – Dean Koontz • Happiness, I have grasped, is a destination, like strawberry Fields. Once you find the way in, there you are, and you’ll never feel low again. – Rachel Simon • He (Darryl Strawberry) is not a dog; a dog is loyal and runs after balls. – Tommy Lasorda • He had kissed her good night that night, and she had tasted like strawberry daiquiris, and he had never wanted to kiss anyone else again. – Neil Gaiman • Her hair was strawberry blond, and she had the shape of a popsicle stick: turn her sideways and she practically disappeared. – Becca Fitzpatrick • Hey baby. You’re sexy like a chocolate strawberry. – Ronnie Shields • I actually think the same things do make most people happy. The differences are extremely small, and around the margins. You like peach ice cream; I like strawberry ice cream. Both of us like ice cream much better than a smack on the head with two-by-four. – Daniel Gilbert • I also eat fruit instead of drinking juices. That’s something I’ve read up on. I think that if you drink a lot of fruit juice you take in way too much sugar. You’d be better off eating a bunch of strawberries or apples. – Kris Humphries • I don’t like it when people ask me what my favourite Beatles song is. I always get that. First of all, I don’t like having to pick a favourite thing anyway. You can’t pick a favourite Beatles song! What about “Strawberry Fields”? What about “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds”? What about “Tomorrow Never Knows”? Come on. That question is small minded to think you could even have a favourite Beatles song. – Kemp Muhl • I eat a huge breakfast every morning – it’s what I look forward to. I’ll do steel-cut oatmeal with blueberries and strawberries, an egg white scramble with mushrooms, zucchini, and onion, and a piece of cinnamon Ezekiel bread with almond butter. I could do that every single day. – Heather Mitts • I finally found something that can stop the fox. The fox cannot summit Strawberry Hill.” – Takumi – John Green • I found a strawberry blossom in a rock. I uprooted it rashly and felt as if I had been committing an outrage, so I planted it again. – Dorothy Wordsworth • I found a strawberry blossom in a rock. The little slender flower had more courage than the green leaves, for they were but half expanded and half grown, but the blossom was spread full out. I uprooted it rashly, and I felt as if I had been committing an outrage, so I planted it again. It will have but a stormy life of it, but let it live if it can. – Dorothy Wordsworth • I grow vegetables – I’m a vegetarian; I’ve got strawberries, artichokes, leeks, broad beans. – Anita Pallenberg • I guess I’ve been waiting so long I’m looking for perfection. That makes it tough. Waiting for perfect love? No, even I know better than that. I’m looking for selfishness. Like, say I tell you I want to eat strawberry shortcake. And you stop everything you’re doing and run out and buy it for me. And you come back out of breath and get down on your knees and hold this strawberry shortcake out to me. And I say I don’t want it anymore and throw it out the window. That’s what I’m looking for.” – Haruki Murakami • I have been 130 lbs. as well as 215 lbs. I have had blond, strawberry blond, green, pink and purple hair, and none of that has ever exempted me from having lewd comments flung at me in the street. – Beth Ditto • I have only to break into the tightness of a strawberry, and I see summer – its dust and lowering skies. – Toni Morrison • I like a much more Japanese style of blood, where it’s red and it almost has a paint kind of quality to it. You can put it on metal, and it has this vividness. Because, normally, what they use in Hollywood is this stuff that looks like strawberry pancake syrup or raspberry pancake syrup. – Quentin Tarantino • I like to make pies. Thats kind of my new obsession – peach, blueberry, apple, strawberry. I make a really good pumpkin pie with real pumpkin. – Morgan Saylor • I love berries. Strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, black berries, anything with an ‘errie’ in it! – Jordin Sparks • I love surprises – champagne and strawberries, all that pampering, romantic stuff. Guys ought to know how to pamper their women properly. – Danica McKellar • I may never be happy, but tonight I am content. Nothing more than an empty house, the warm hazy weariness from a day spent setting strawberry runners in the sun, a glass of cool sweet milk, and a shallow dish of blueberries bathed in cream. When one is so tired at the end of a day one must sleep, and at the next dawn there are more strawberry runners to set, and so one goes on living, near the earth. At times like this I’d call myself a fool to ask for more. – Sylvia Plath • I recycle. I have a house in the south of France and I have a small garden. My name is Dujardin – ‘from the garden.’ I grow carrots, peppers, strawberries, green beans, and things for salads, but there are lots of wild boars all around and they steal the food. – Jean Dujardin • I think drugs are like strawberries and peaches. – Edie Sedgwick • I think drugs are like strawberries and peaches..There’s no way to tell anyone who hasn’t been through it, there’s no way to explain it to anyone who hasn’t tasted it . To keep that superlative high, just on the cusp of each day, so that I radiate sunshine – Edie Sedgwick • I think he became a man who brought peace and wisdom to hi world, because he knew about war and folly. I think that he loved greatly, because he had seen what lost love is. And I think he came to know, too, that he was loved greatly.” She looked at the strawberry in her hands. “But I thought you didn’t want me to tell you your future. – Gary D. Schmidt • I think once I made up my mind that I was allergic to alcohol, and that’s what I learned, it made sense to me. And I think it was kind of pointed out that you know if you were allergic to strawberries, you wouldn’t eat strawberries. And that made sense to me. – Betty Ford • I want you to make u and go halfzies on this cake. K? But. . . I want a piece too, so i guess we’ll have to go thirdzies. . . Awwww, we’re not going to be able to split the strawberry on top though. What should we do? Maybe I should just take it after all strawberries are my favorite. . . oh! I forgot to ask Hiku-chan, Kau-chan do you like strawberries? -Hunny – Bisco Hatori • I would be lying if I said I cut out all dessert. When Im training, I try to satisfy those cravings with a slightly healthier dessert, like a piece of dark chocolate or whipped cream and strawberries. Those are two of my favorites! – Josie Loren • If ‘heartache’ sounds exaggerated then surely you have never gone to your garden one rare morning in June to find that the frost, without any perceptible motive, any hope of personal gain, has quietly killed your strawberry blossoms, tomatoes, lima and green beans, corn, squash, cucumbers. A brilliant sun is now smiling at this disaster with an insenstive cheerfulness as out of place as a funny story would be if someone you loved had just died. – Ruth Stout • If I can’t serve on grass, I can maybe help cut the grass, paint the lines and serve some strawberries. – Goran Ivanisevic • If I want to make – I don’t know – strawberry jam, I’m going to have to add something to strawberries to make it gelatinous and thick, right? I’m going to have to add pectin or something like that.But if I want to make cranberry sauce, all I have to do is pop some cranberries in a little saucepan and when it cools off, it’ll be thick and gelatinous. So what’s up with cranberries? – Ari Shapiro • If you get vegetables in season, the difference is remarkable compared to vegetables that might have been imported. You can’t beat fresh ingredients and seasonal fresh ingredients. There’s nothing quite like the taste of a beautiful summer strawberry. – William Katt • If you keep my secret, this strawberry is yours. – Tsugumi Ohba • I’ll be clickin’ by your house about two forty-five, Sidewalk Sundae Strawberry Surprise. – Tom Waits • I’ll give you this strawberry if you keep it a secret. –L (Death Note) – Tsugumi Ohba • In Bakersfield, California, a Mexican strawberry picker with an income of $14,000 and no English was lent every penny he needed to buy a house for $724,000. – Michael Lewis • in her dreams, blood tasted like fizzy strawberry soda. If you drank it too fast, you got brain freeze. When she was older, after she’d licked a cut on her finger, the taste of that became the taste in her dreams: copper and tears. – Holly Black • Instead of past, present and future, I’d prefer chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. – Ashleigh Brilliant • It’s just another of Robin’s sayings. Like, ‘Holy strawberries, Batman, we’re in a jam! Or, Holy Kleenex, Batman, it was right under our nose and we blew it! – Karen Marie Moning • It’s unarguable to say that every one of us has been moved by the beauty of what I have called snapshots, but for photographers they are charms and proverbs, and like lightening or wild strawberries. – Tod Papageorge • I’ve got it all in here ultra violets, flying saucers, strawberry bootlace come on get involved. – Noel Fielding • John [Lennon] as a singer – the way he sings on “Twist and Shout” and the way he sings on “Strawberry Fields Forever” – is a very odd voice, in the sense that it seems to be celebrating but almost mourning at the same time. There’s a quality of mourning to his voice, which is very enigmatic. – Alasdair MacLean • Kid 1: *examining my gorgeous strawberry and blueberry pies*: Wow, Mom, your pies don’t look awful this time. Me (Ilona): … ~A little later~ Kid 2: *wandering into the kitchen* Kid 1: Hey, you’ve got to see these pies. *opening the stove* Kid 2: Wow. They are not ugly this time. Kid 1: I know, right? – Ilona Andrews • Late February, and the air’s so balmy snowdrops and crocuses might be fooled into early blooming. Then, the inevitable blizzard will come, blighting our harbingers of spring, and the numbed yards will go back undercover. In Florida, it’s strawberry season- shortcake, waffles, berries and cream will be penciled on the coffeeshop menus. – Gail Mazur • Maybe we too busy being flowers or fairies or strawberries instead of something honest and worthy of respect . . . you know . . . like being people. – Toni Cade Bambara • Morning. Strawberry sky dusted with white winter powder sugar sun. And nobody to munch on it with – Francesca Lia Block • My family lived off the land and summer evening meals featured baked stuffed tomatoes, potato salad, corn on the cob, fresh shelled peas and homemade ice cream with strawberries from our garden. With no air conditioning in those days, the cool porch was the center of our universe after the scorching days. – David Mixner • My grandma used to make syrup for us because we couldn’t afford it and I just played around with her recipe. I made strawberry syrup and that didn’t really work out but I made strawberry-vanilla and that sold. Then I just went out and took marketing classes, went to seminars, learned about marketing a product and striking deals. It ended up taking orders of $1.5 million. – Farrah Gray • My guiltiest pleasure is… chocolates with strawberry cream and trashy television – ‘Geordie Shore,’ ‘Katie,’ etc. – Ellie Goulding • My mom wouldn’t let me sing ‘Strawberry Wine’ because it had ‘wine’ in it. – Avril Lavigne • My perfect last meal would be: shrimp cocktail, lasagna, steak, creamed spinach, salad with bleu cheese dressing, onion rings, garlic bread, and a dessert of strawberry shortcake. – Joan Rivers • Oh, the strawberries don’t taste as they used to and the thighs of women have lost their clutch! – John Steinbeck • Once upon a time, when men and women hurtled through the air on metal wings, when they wore webbed feet and walked on the bottom of the sea, learning the speech of whales and the songs of the dolphins, when pearly-fleshed and jewelled apparitions of Texan herdsmen and houris shimmered in the dusk on Nicaraguan hillsides, when folk in Norway and Tasmania in dead of winter could dream of fresh strawberries, dates, guavas and passion fruits and find them spread next morning on their tables, there was a woman who was largely irrelevant, and therefore happy. – A. S. Byatt • One must ask children and birds how cherries and strawberries taste. – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe • One of the joys our technological civilization has lost is the excitement with which seasonal flowers and fruits were welcomed; the first daffodil, strawberry or cherry are now things of the past, along with their precious moment of arrival. Even the tangerine — now a satsuma or clementine — appears de-pipped months before Christmas. – Derek Jarman • Only in Texas can mesquite have its own festival, then there’s a crawfish festival, a festival for strawberries, everything has its own festival, with each town having their own yearly thing. – Kevin Fowler • P.S. May, don’t these strawberry tarts just make you want to cry? – Kiera Cass • Personally I am very fond of strawberries and cream, but I have found that for some strange reason, fish prefer worms. So when I went fishing, I didn’t think about what I wanted. I thought about what they wanted. I didn’t bait the hook with strawberries and cream. Rather, I dangled a worm or grasshopper in front of the fish and said: “Wouldn’t you like to have that?” Why not use the same common sense when fishing for people? – Dale Carnegie • Poetry and music are very good friends. Like mommies and daddies and strawberries and cream – they go together. – Nikki Giovanni • Rice and peas fit into that category of dishes where two ordinary foods, combined together, ignite a pleasure far beyond the capacity of either of its parts alone. Like rhubarb and strawberries, apple pie and cheese, roast pork and sage, the two tastes and textures meld together into the sort of subtle transcendental oneness that we once fantasized would be our experience when we finally found the ideal mate. – John Thorne • Right now I just want to chill for a while. Take a hiatus from all the craziness. To clean my house, see my family. Just see some movies and pick some strawberries. – Lauren Ambrose • She has a laugh so hearty it knocks the whipped cream off an order of strawberry shortcake on a table fifty feet away. – Damon Runyon • She makes use of the soft of the bread for a napkin. She falls asleep at times with shoes on, on unmade beds. When a little money comes in, June buys delicacies, strawberries in the winter, caviar and bath salts. – Anais Nin • Some people tell you you should not drink claret after strawberries. They are wrong. – William Maginn • Sometimes you’ve just got to grab an apple – or grapes, or strawberries. Something that’s healthy but maybe a little bit more adventurous, if you can see fruit as adventurous. – LL Cool J • Soon to come in licorice, orange, cinnamon, and banana, but not strawberry, because I hate strawberries. – Terry Pratchett • Spring is super in the supermarkets and the strawberries prance and glow never mind that they’re all kinda tart and tasteless as strawberries go meanwhile wild things are not for sale anymore than they are for show so i’ll be outside, in love with the kind of beauty it takes more than eyes to know – Ani DiFranco • Strawberries that in gardens grow Are plump and juicy fine, But sweeter far as wise men know Spring from the woodland vine. No need for bowl or silver spoon, Sugar or spice or cream, Has the wild berry plucked in June Beside the trickling stream. One such to melt at the tongue’s root, Confounding taste with scent, Beats a full peck of garden fruit: Which points my argument. – Robert Graves • Strawberry fields forever – John Lennon • Strawberry Fields is anywhere you want to go – John Lennon • Strawberry Shortcake called, she wants her outfit back – Ilona Andrews • Talking of Pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other holding to my Mouth a Nectarine – how good how fine. It went down all pulpy, slushy, oozy, all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat like a large, beatified Strawberry. – John Keats • Tell me I didn’t imagine it, Leo. Tell me that even though our bodies were in seperate states, our star selves shared an enchanted place. Tell me that right around noon today (eastern time) you had the strangest sensation: a tiny chill on your shoulder…a flutter in the heart…a shadow of strawberry-banana crossing your tongue…tell me you whispered my name. – Jerry Spinelli • Tell you what I like the best – ‘Long about knee-deep in June, ‘Bout the time strawberries melts On the vine, – some afternoon Like to jes’ git out and rest, And not work at nothin’ else! – James Whitcomb Riley • That pipe, just so happens to lead to the room where I make the most delicious flavored chocolate covered fudge.” Then he will be made into strawberry flavoered chocolate covered fudge, they’ll be selling him by the pound, all over the world!” No, I wouldn’t allow it. The taste would be terrible. Can you imagine Augustus flavored chocolate covered gloop? Ew. No one would buy it. – Johnny Depp • The days were sunny, the nights were star-studded. Indeed married life was strawberries for breakfast and loving all the time. – Marabel Morgan • The mystery of God touches us – or does not – in the smallest details: giving a strawberry, with love; receiving a touch, with love; sharing the snapdragon red of an autumn sunset, with love. – Marion Woodman • The night is a strawberry. – Louise Penny • The only vampires I’ve ever seen are the Goths trying to get a glimpse of Anne Rice’s house, who drink strawberry sodas and tell each other it’s blood. – Sherrilyn Kenyon • The police are asking through the bedroom door, why did I make a batch of strawberry daiquiris before I called them? Because we were out of raspberries. Because, can’t they see, it just does not matter. Time was not of the essence. – Chuck Palahniuk • The public never appears to tire of endless courses of strawberries and cream, and the theory that you run the risk of boring people with endless photo montages of the Chelsea Pensioners in their dress reds, or close-ups of a Pimm’s Cup sprouting all kinda of flora, has yet to be proven. People like Wimbledon in the same way they like blue jeans or even their own spouses: for the pleasure yielded by their reliable sameness. – Peter Bodo • The strawberry grows underneath the nettle And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best Neighbour’d by fruit of baser quality. – William Shakespeare • The thing I learned is that the work is getting done by people who dig in and work on a particular project: the people who spend 20 years sustaining a theater for black teenagers in Chicago; the people who reintroduce sticklebacks into Strawberry Creek in Berkeley and then wait patiently for the first egrets to show up. – Robert Hass • Theirs [the Beatles] is a happy, cocky, belligerently resourceless brand of harmonic primitivism… In the Liverpudlian repertoire, the indulged amateurishness of the musical material, though closely rivaled by the indifference of the performing style, is actually surpassed only by the ineptitude of the studio production method. (Strawberry Fields suggests a chance encounter at a mountain wedding between Claudio Monteverdi and a jug band.) – Glenn Gould • There are certain products that it’s worth buying organic just because the alternatives have so much pesticide. There’s a list of the dirty dozen that you can get off the Web. Strawberries, potatoes. A handful of crops that have very high pesticide residues if you don’t buy organic. If you eat that a lot, that’s a good place to invest. – Michael Pollan • There is a tradition in Southern cooking of recipes handed down for generations. And when I make my grandmother’s strawberry pie I feel her right with me. – Kimberly Schlapman • There is nothing particularly wrong with salmon, of course, but like caramel candy, strawberry yogurt, or liquid carpet cleaner, if you eat too much of it you are not going to enjoy your meal. – Daniel Handler • There was a tale he had read once, long ago, as a small boy: the story of a traveler who had slipped down a cliff, with man-eating tigers above him and a lethal fall below him, who managed to stop his fall halfway down the side of the cliff, holding on for dear life. There was a clump of strawberries beside him, and certain death above him and below. What should he do? went the question. And the reply was, Eat the strawberries. The story had never made sense to him as a boy. It did now. – Neil Gaiman • There’s nothing more satisfying than going to a market and meeting the person who picked the strawberries, or it’s their farm that the strawberries came from, and giving them a fair value in exchange for what they’re giving you. – Billy Corgan • This is really good,” Donovan Caine said, attacking his third strawberry pancake. “You sound surprised,” I said. He shrugged. “I just didn’t think an assassin would be able to cook like this.” “Well, I do get lots of practice with knives. You could say I’m multitasking.” The detective froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “I’m kidding. I enjoy cooking. It relaxes me. – Jennifer Estep • This Mayagüez gold, my third consecutive with the national team, has a strawberry flavor. – Milagros Cabral • This special feeling towards fruit, its glory and abundance, is I would say universal…. We respond to strawberry fields or cherry orchards with a delight that a cabbage patch or even an elegant vegetable garden cannot provoke. – Jane Grigson • Today While the blossoms still cling to the vine I’ll taste your strawberries I’ll drink your sweet wine A million tomorrows shall all pass away Here I forget all the joy that is mine. Today I’ll be a dandy and I’ll be a rover You know who I am by the songs that I sing I’ll feast at your table I’ll sleep in your clover Who cares what tomorrow shall bring I can’t be contented with yesterday’s glory I can’t live on promises winter to spring Today is my moment and now is my story I’ll laugh and I’ll cry and I’ll sing – John Denver • Truth out of season was sourer than strawberries at Christmas time. – Eleanor Hallowell Abbott • Under the pink Harlequin sunglasses strawberry dangling charms, and sugar-frosted eyeshadow she was really almost beautiful. – Francesca Lia Block • Washington state’s 2nd Congressional District is a major producer of small fruit crops such as raspberries and strawberries. This research center is doing important work to help farmers enhance the quality, yield and marketability of their small fruit crops. – Rick Larsen • We did make use, from time to time, of candles, neckties, scarves, shoelaces, a little water-color paintbrush, her hairbrush, butter, whipped cream, strawberry jam, Johnson’s Baby Oil, my Swedish hand vibrator, a fascinating bead necklace she had, miscellaneous common household items, and every molecule of flesh that was exposed to air or could be located with strenuous search. – Spider Robinson • We do not rejoice in victories. We rejoice when a new kind of cotton is grown and when strawberries bloom in Israel. – Golda Meir • We may say of angling, as Dr. Boteler said of strawberries, Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never did; and so, if I might be judge, God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling. – Izaak Walton • What do we look for as reward? Some little sounds, and scents, and scenes A small hand darting strawberry-ward A woman’s aprons full of greens. The sense that we have brought to birth Out of the cold and heavy soil, The blessed fruits and flowers of earth Is large reward for our toil. – Ruth Pitter • When I think back about my immediate reaction to that redheads girl, it seems to spring from an appreciation of natural beauty. I mean the heart pleasure you get from looking at speckled leaves or the palimpsested bark of plane trees in Provence. There was something richly appealing to her color combination, the ginger snaps floating in the milk-white skin, the golden highlights in the strawberry hair. it was like autumn, looking at her. It was like driving up north to see the colors. – Jeffrey Eugenides • When strawberries go begging, and the sleek Blue plums lie open to the blackbird’s beak, We shall live well–we shall live very well. – Elinor Wylie • Who puts strawberries in a salad? Seriously, is this a thing now? Is it a thing I don’t know about? Is it an American thing? It can be. It’s freaking me out. – James Corden • Why did she give up wine for Lent? Polly was more sensible. She had given up strawberry jam. Cecilia had never seen Polly show more than a passing interest in strawberry jam, although now, of course, she was always catching her standing at the open fridge, staring at it longingly. The power of denial. – Liane Moriarty • Why the hell are we conditioned into the smooth strawberry-and-cream Mother-Goose-world, Alice-in-Wonderland fable, only to be broken on the wheel as we grow older and become aware of ourselves as individuals with a dull responsibility in life? – Sylvia Plath • You’ve gotta taste the light, like my friend and fellow shooter Chip Maury says. And when you see light like this, trust me, it’s like a strawberry sundae with sprinkles. – Joe McNally

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