what is it take a fae to work day

Secular Witch Wheel of the Year ideas

So you want to celebrate your own wheel of the year, but you are not Wiccan (or maybe not a Celtic Polytheist or Heathen Polytheist when it comes to the specific Celtic or Heathen holidays)?  Why not try making your own wheel of the year to celebrate nature or your own holidays?

Note:  It’s important that if you do this, you do not try to make your own holiday yet still call it by another name.  For instance: if you make a holiday around February 1st and give your own attributes to it, it’s important to not call it “Imbolc”.  Imbolc is a specific holiday with its own customs used to celebrate Brigid.  If you want to celebrate Imbolc, then celebrate Imbolc.  If you’re not celebrating Imbolc, don’t call it Imbolc.  Make sense?

Second Note: The solstice and equinox holidays will be named as such, and the cross quarter holidays will be referred to as “mid-x”. Note, this is a bit different than what you may be used to since the solstice holidays are sometimes referred to as such. Ex: summer solstice as “mid-summer”. For the purposes of this post, only the cross quarter days will be referred to in that way. Just fyi to avoid confusion. I’m referring to them as “mid” because they are in the middle of the season.

Now, onto the ideas:

⛤ Winter Solstice (Usually somewhere between Dec 20th-22nd): Celebrate family, holiday cheer, resolve any old issues you’ve had this year, look back on the year and what you have done. What have you learned?? You can also celebrate this as a time of new beginnings.  Since the sun is returning and the days will be growing longer: you can view this as your new year.  Make witchy resolutions, or any new year resolutions!! Celebrate winter festivities and the return of the sun

⛤ Mid-winter (Feb. 1st-2nd): I view this holiday as a time for purification.  Get rid of any bad habits.  Cleanse yourself and your house.  Do some spring cleaning. Celebrate the growing strength of the sun, and celebrate the coming spring as well!!

⛤ Spring Equinox (Typically between March 19th-21st): I view this time of year as a time for growth.  This corresponds with the growing signs of spring in the environment.  The days getting warmer, etc.  Take the time to do spells that correspond with your growth as witch or just as a human being.  This time is heavily associated with fertility. But this could be fertility of many things - talents, the mind, imagination, projects, etc! Try out new things, practice the things you love to do, etc. Maybe even grow a garden as well.  Remember the new years resolution you made at the Winter Solstice? Now would be the time to make sure you’re bringing the list to fruition! Also, celebrate spring festivities!

⛤ Mid-Spring (May 1st-2nd):  For me, this time of year is about life and love. Celebrate life by helping others around you: donate food, money, or your time. This holiday can be a time for charity and giving to others. I specifically view this time as a celebration of life and the living because the opposite cross quarter day would be Mid-Autumn (Halloween), which is a day to celebrate the dead. You can also spend this holiday appreciating the life of nature by spending time outside, building a bonfire, going for a walk, or tending/creating a garden. You can also celebrate this holiday as a holiday for love - spend time with your loved ones! Do something special for them. For other’s, this time of year may also correspond with sex as well. Oh, and celebrate the coming of summer time!!

⛤ Summer Solstice (Typically between June 20th-22nd):  For me, this is a time for power.  Celebrate your power and magic as a witch.  I personally believe this is the day of the year when the power of the earth is strongest.  Some view this time as a day when the veil between worlds thins. Especially in regards to the Fae. So you could take advantage of that. Also, celebrate summer!  Woohoo Summer!!! Spend your days at the pool, hanging out outside….or inside where there’s air conditioning. Whatever works for you.

⛤ Mid-Summer (August 1st-2nd): First harvest.  Time for feasting.  Reap what you have sown so far throughout the year.  I correspond this holiday with food - specifically grain. Celebrate the earth and the food that it provides you. Also, celebrate the coming of Fall!! (My favorite season of the year)

⛤ Autumn Equinox (Typically between Sept 21st-24th): Second Harvest. Witchy Thanksgiving.  List all the things you are thankful for, and celebrate them! Do some Autumn festivities, and celebrate Autumn (arguably the best time of the year ;)

⛤ Mid-Autumn/Halloween (October 31st-November 2nd): The final harvest. The opposite of Mid-Spring which celebrates life, Mid-Autumn celebrates the dead/our ancestors. Do something nice to remember those who have past. Also, celebrate the coming of winter!

Feel free to use my ideas for your celebrations :)

anonymous asked:

are you still doing prompts? i found your angsty list and i looooooooove it. “You’re looking at me like.. you’re disgusted. What did I do? Just tell me what I did, please!” give me all the ANGST

I kind of hate myself rn .-. and that’s on you, nonny.

That’s entirely on you.

Warning: Angst. 

“You’re looking at me like… you’re disgusted. What did I do? Just tell me what I did, please!”

When Alec came back home, after an endless day working at the Institute, all he wanted was a quiet time with Magnus. Maybe watch a movie and order in, nothing too fancy. He wanted to snuggle with his boyfriend on the couch and forget his problems for a couple of hours.

Alec knew Magnus was home, since he had just held a meeting with some Seelie emissaries. Those didn’t tend to take long, as Magnus had little taste for word tricks and cruel games. Alec was very thankful the one who attended his Cabinet Meeting was Meliorn. From the faes, he was the most agreeable by far.

So Alec was expecting to find Magnus not in the best of moods. He didn’t make much of the fact his boyfriend didn’t meet him in the eyes when he walked in, or that they didn’t greet with their usual kiss. Dealing with politics could be taxing, and Alec wasn’t feeling too cheerful himself either.

But then weird things happen. Magnus announced he was going to take a shower and didn’t even give the time for Alec to say anything before disappearing into his bathroom. There was no talk of dinner, no suggestion of take-outs or even summoning food like Magnus did whenever neither of them felt like cooking. He also didn’t come back to the living room, and Alec sat there alone for hours until he felt like he had to do something.

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Otherworldly - Part One

Hey! As I mentioned one post ago, I had a really strange, long, vivid, and really nostalgic feeling dream last night. I thought I’d write a fic about it, so here’s part one.

Five hundred years after the war with Hybern, and none was well.

Three years after the war, Feyre had been overwhelmed. The blood, the screams, the loss… everything had been too much for her. She had broken down in the middle of the House of Wind, sobbing the names of everyone who had died, in a delirious stupor. Andras. Clare. Father. Suriel. Weaver. Bone Carver. Bryaxis. Andras. Clare. Father. Suriel. Weaver. Bone Carver. Bryaxis. Andras. Clare. Fathe–

And there were so many more. There were the children from the Winter Court who Amarantha had killed. All the Fae that Amarantha and the Attor had slaughtered. The soldiers that Tamlin had had to send out to die for him. The soldier whose whipping she and Ianthe had caused. The citizens of Adriata who had perished in the raid. The Illyrians – her Illyrians, her people – who had lain down their lives for her court without pause, and she and her High Lord had been too involved with each other to even notice. Feyre, who had been too weak to muster the courage to fight on the battlefield with her soldiers.

So men had died. Women had died. Children had died.

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Faery Star Tarot Spread: Part 1

I’m reviewing my spiritual practises and faery work at the moment so I’m about to use this spread to see where I’m up to.  The spread is based on the Elven Star.  I designed it ages ago and thought it might be of interest.  If you’d like to see it in action I’ll be posting my own reading in a day or so.

1) What are you taking to the faery world?

What qualities, characteristics, and/or energies are you taking to the faery world?

2) Who am I meeting in the faery world?

What type of fae will you meet? What qualities, characteristics, and/or energies will these fae bring to you?

3) What would be the most constructive way for you to work with the fae you meet?

Literally… what would be the best way for you to work with the fae you meet?

4) What do the fae bring to you?

What lessons, gifts, tests, or knowledge will the fae bring to you?

5) What do you bring to the fae?

What lessons, gifts, tests, or knowledge will you bring to the fae?

6) What do the fae want you to do?

What tasks will you be given? What sort of relationship are the fae looking for?

7) What do you bring back to your world?

What energies, lessons, and experiences will you return with?

8) Cross Sum of Cards Drawn?

Add the numerical value of all the cards drawn together until you come up with a number that equals 22 or less.

This gives you number that corresponds to a Major Arcana card. This card refers to either a deep reason for the connection or a hidden energetic aspect that may not be obvious in the main body of the reading.

Note: Although I use the term fae (plural), the spread can also be used to explore a relationship with one faery.

anonymous asked:

Rowaelin 34 and 35? Pretty please?

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.” + “You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

      When working as Queen of Terrasen all day, every day, Aelin was forced to quell certain urges.
      But not always.
      Today was her birthday, and Rowan was naturally required to do what she liked as her mate, husband, blahblahblah.
       She intended to use him for her more primal, fae urges today.
       Of course, that put her in a bad position. Because he was sort of in the middle of conducting a meeting that she was sort of supposed to be listening too.
       But it was her birthday.
      She met his eyes from across the table, winking at him suggestively. Nobody saw the exchange except for Lysandra, who rolled her eyes. But the effect on Rowan was immediate. His pine green eyes darkened admirably.
      “You know,” Lysandra announced to the board of people supposed to be giving money to Terrasen or something that Aelin couldn’t bring herself to care about. “I think we need to think about the kids. You know, speaking about kids, how are fae babies made again? I forget.”
      “Lys,” Lorcan warned, and she glared at him. He kept his mouth shut because Lysandra had that effect on every man (and let’s face it, women too).
      “Can we all just agree that they should be called Faebies?” Aedion said. “It just sounds so much better than ‘babies.’”
      “But he’s not silenced,” Lysandra moped, and a fae grinned at her.
      Of course, this was only sort of a thought in Aelin’s head because she was currently communicating with her mate and avoiding everyone else.
      If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to the bedroom, his eyes seemed to say. She only smirked.
      Even better that way.
      Oh, you know I’m not an exhibitionist. I’m too old for that.
       But it’s my birthday.

      He rolled his eyes before clearing his throat and effectively silencing where Lysandra was giving an impassioned speech about “faemenism” and the necessity of puns in civilized society.
      “As Prince Rowan Whitethorn, I deem this meeting to be dealt with by my mate’s blood sworn, Aedion Ashryver.”
       Aedion quickly announced his agreement about puns to Lady Lysandra, and she eyed him approvingly.
       But Aelin wasn’t focused on that. After Rowan left to go to their bed chambers, she slipped out of the room and, as she wasn’t in sight for anyone else, her clothes as well.
      When she entered their room, he eyed her approvingly before trailing his eyes to her face and grinning.
      “Take them off,” she indicated his pants after pulling his top off.
      “I’m sorry?” he asked as she groped his behind.
      “You heard me. Take. It. Off.”
      He rolled his eyes but said “anything for you” and obliged.
      As their mouths slipped together, they heard the sound of Lysandra yelling, “It’s our faet as a species!”

      The only urge she quelled today was the one to laugh.

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anonymous asked:

Steter? Stiles is on the run, some creature targeted him and the pack and he thinks he's protecting the them this way. Peter takes it upon himself to hunt down Stiles and haul his ass back to the pack where he belongs. Bonus if Peter has to us some unorthodox methods to keep Stiles in place to prevent him from running once he catches him.

Stiles disappears with frustrating ease.  

There is no scent to follow, no money trail to track, nothing.  Stiles covers his steps so well it’s like they aren’t even there.  Peter likes to think he might’ve had some kind of influence on the ingenious way in which Stiles disappears off of the face of the planet.  

He knows that it isn’t quite true, though.  Stiles is smart.  He only took what he needed.  Uses only cash.  His Jeep is found in Santa Clara in the hands of some punk ass little wannabe thug who is as white as the belly of a fish and calls himself Jerome— the little shit has a pink slip for Roscoe, but Peter ignores his protests and takes the vehicle off his hands with a simple little flash of his fangs.  

The thing is, though, even while Stiles seems to leave not even a trace of himself behind, the Fae are somehow tracking him— after that ever elusive Spark nestled in the boy’s chest.  Peter knows that they’re following him, and so he is following them.  It’s the only way to track him down, even if it does mean nearly running into a great deal of Hunters on the way. 

Scott calls him everyday, asks him if he’s found anything, and Peter always manages to belittle Scott’s worries enough to make his Alpha calm down enough to not come hunting the boy down himself.  The rest of the Pack is back in Beacon Hills, holding down the fort just in case the Unseelie decide that they want to take vengeance upon the place that kept such a valuable power source from them.  When the Sheriff calls to ask, however, Peter is a bit more tactful, even gentle, in his assurances.  The older man takes each word with a grain of salt and always ends the conversation with a terse order to bring his son home. 

The only problem is that two weeks have gone by and Peter has seen neither hide nor hair of Stiles’ pretty little head.  He starts to get worried when he loses track of the Fae too— a spot somewhere in the thick forest along the eastern border between Canada and Maine.  For a day and half, he goes a bit crazy because there is nothing but the smell of ozone where their tracks stop.  

For a day after that he ignores all calls from the Pack and the Sheriff because what if he lost track of the Fae and what if he lost track of Stiles.  The idea doesn’t sit well with him. 

But then he goes back to the spot again, inhales deep, and there it is.  Under the leafs and the dirt, there’s a small stone with a rune carved over it.  It smells like Stiles and leaves a tangy magick taste on his tongue.  He’s not quite sure what it is specifically, but he can read the mark and knows that Stiles managed to trick the Fae there— and then managed to banish them from the realm in this very spot.  

Peter couldn’t be more grateful for the stone, and he rubs it like a talisman because he knows by the feel of it— still thrumming with energy— that Stiles is very much alive.  It doesn’t take long for him to work out that the energy it gives off like a song grows stronger the closer he gets to the boy.  

A day later, Peter finds himself in a coastal town called Blue Hill.  It’s a quaint little place, but it has a smell of “other.”  Peter doesn’t really mind, especially not when he spots a familiarly buzzed head meandering around Main Street and smiling at an older woman as he admires one of the hand-loomed blankets out on display.  

“Might need it when winter comes,” the woman says with a smile.  "Skinny thing like you will need to bundle up.“ 

Stiles laughs softly, shaking his head as his fingers run over soft fibers.  ”I couldn’t afford it.” 

The rock in Peter’s pocket is practically buzzing, and he ends up right behind Stiles— the boy tenses up before Peter settles a hand on his shoulder— and he gives a toothy grin to the woman.  ”No, but I can.  Would you like it, Wieslav?” 

Stiles looks up at him sharply.  ”Peter—” 

"It’s nothing, really.”  Peter assures, placing a hundred dollar bill on the table, his other hand tightening carefully.  Stiles doesn’t wince, but his hands curl into the material of the blanket.  "Come on, love.  We need to get you home.  You’re dad’s been asking about you.“ 

Stiles lets himself get pulled away.  He walks stiffly, but not enough to draw attention to them.  The last thing Peter needs is for someone to think he’s kidnapping the boy.  

They stop in a nearby parking lot, where Peter easily unlocks a sleek looking Mercedes with efficiency before dragging the teen over and pushing him against the side of the car.  Stiles looks younger with his hair buzzed like this, clutching the blanket close and glaring at Peter.  He’s briefly reminded of being half mad, holding this boy’s wrist close and offering the Bite.  His mouth waters for a moment. 

"I’m not going back, Peter—" 

"Get.  In the car.”  Peter says stiffly, moving in close and crowding Stiles back.  "Or I will make you get in the car.“ 

"I can’t go back.  They’ll come for me— you’re all in danger—” 

"Don’t be obtuse, Stiles.”  Peter rolls his eyes, giving him a look that spoke volumes of Peter’s frustration with the entirety of the situation.  "We’ll be in danger whether you’re there or not.  Get in the car.“ 

"Just because I’ve managed to get rid of them for now doesn’t mean that they won’t come back.”  Stiles hisses, standing up a bit straighter— he really would have made a beautiful wolf.  "And they’ll be angry when they do.“ 

"All the better for you to come home and help us prepare for it then.” Peter replies with a pleasantness that is only betrayed by the cold look in his eyes.  "Last warning, Stiles.  If you don’t get in the car right now I will tie you up and put you in myself.” 

Stiles’ brows furrow.  ”With what—?” 

Peter turns him about in an instant, shoving Stiles’ chest against the driver’s side door.  He wrenches Stiles’ hands behind his back, unapologetic as the boy cringes and the blanket he was holding falls in a heap on the ground.  There is an audible click as the handcuffs secure in place, and Stiles freezes. 

“Are you serious?” 

"Your father was convinced I would need them.  Turns out he was right." 

Peter grabs him by the scruff of his neck, biting back a grin as Stiles stumbles back against him, and jerks the door open.  He feels Stiles’ hands flex against his hip and drums his own fingers against the metal edge of the door.  

"Get in.  Don’t make me gag you as well." 

Stiles is quick to comply.  

Peter ducks down and tugs the seatbelt out and across Stiles’ chest, letting his hand linger over the teen’s thigh for a moment longer than needed.  Eyes narrow at him, and Peter doesn’t hold back a grin that is all teeth.  Huffing out a put upon sigh, Peter crouches to pluck up the blanket and shakes it out before setting it over Stiles’ lap gently.  

"I can get out of these, y’know.” Stiles mutters, eyes not leaving Peter’s face. 

“Yes,” Peter nods.  "But you won’t.  You want to go home, and we all want you there.  I want you there.“ 

Stiles’ jaw flexes, huffing out a sharp breath, and Peter doesn’t miss the way his cheeks color a bit.  Reaching up, Peter runs his hand over his head and frowns faintly.  He’ll have to threaten all the barbers in town not to touch his head and confiscate any and all electronic razors found on any persons Stiles might come into contact with.  

"Besides,” Peter adds, gaze flashing a dangerous blue that earns a little leap in Stiles’ pulse. “You know I’ll knock you out if you try." 

Stiles rolls his eyes. 

"Let’s get you home.”  Peter says and moves to stand, but stops when Stiles utters a quiet ‘wait.’ 

“It worked, right?  They’re gone?  No one— No one got hurt?" 

Peter gives him a small smile.  ”No one got hurt.  Though I have a feeling you’re in for a world of it when we get back to Beacon Hills.  Your father mentioned something about being grounded.  Until you were twenty.” 

Stiles’ nose wrinkles.  ”Can we take the long way home?” 

Peter laughs.  ”Of course.” 

He shuts the door, comfortable with the knowledge that Stiles isn’t going anywhere.  He doesn’t let the boy leave his sight for more than five minutes the whole trip.  Stiles doesn’t really seem to mind.  

- - -

(More preslash than anything?  Hopefully you like it!)