#annual Art & Wine Festival

[santaclaralocalnews]

Tens of thousands of people flocked to Santa Clara’s Central Park on Sept. 16 & 17 for the annual Art & Wine Festival. The community event featured dozens of local artists and performers. The City hosted two stages. On the main stage in the pavilion, artists like Stealin’ Chicago, a Steely Dan & Chicago tribute band, performed for crowds who danced on a makeshift dance floor in front of the stage.

[ozarkthedog]

𝐲𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞

summary: being an assistant to a Hollywood star has its perks like attending a lavish holiday event that’s brimming with celebrities.

warnings: fluff! dieter bravo x afab!reader. meet cute? kissing. Christmas vibes. mistletoe. dieter being his usual silly self. w.c: 1.7k

author’s note: this is a gift for @jennaispunk via the @dieterbravobrainrotclub Holiday Gift Exchange! I hope you enjoy this lil’ fic, Jenn! Happy Holidays, lovely! 💙 thank you @sp00kymulderr for hosting!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⋅ 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

It was the kind of holiday party where everything felt just a little bit brighter—lights twinkling from every corner, the smell of cinnamon and pine hanging in the air, laughter rising over soft jazz in the background. A sleek modern mansion nestled in the Hollywood Hills hosting the annual gathering.

You adjusted the straps of your dress while you sat at the bar. It was a sleek dark red velvet number you'd picked up on sale, hoping it'd help you fit into the glamorous party and not stick out like a sore thumb.

You glanced at your phone, scrolling through a few emails you needed to catch up on. As an assistant to one of the hottest new actors in Hollywood, your life was a constant balancing act, but tonight, for once, it was about a bit of relaxation. 

"Feel free to unwind," Your boss says, adjusting their outfit in the back seat of the SUV on the way to the festive soiree. "No need to keep an eye on me. Darren Eigan will be there, so I'll be stuck to him like glue."

You turn in your seat and lean against the bar, surveying the party. From across the room, you spy your boss eagerly chatting up the infamous director. They'd gushed about wanting to work with him for years. You couldn't blame them for trying.

Your eyes scanned the room again as you slowly sipped the tart purple wine. You'd never been a drinker, so the glass felt more like a prop than something to enjoy.

A raucous laugh catches your ear.

He was standing, drinking glass in hand, with a group of people near the opening of a dazzling archway decorated with little sprigs of green mistletoe tied with a bright red bow.

You knew a fake laugh from a mile away. You learned the craft when you moved to LA, having to grace a phony smile and compliment almost every second of the day. 

Dieter Bravo. Hollywood's reluctant star— known for his roles in blockbusters and indie films and winning an oh-so-coveted Oscar. You were surprised to see him at a party like this. He seemed to be the loner kind, much preferring to work on his art than bullshit his night away.

His salt and pepper curls helped prop the shades he wore like a shield, ready to slip the glasses down his hooked nose and sneak out the back door at a moment's notice. The first three buttons on his black silk shirt were left open; his golden skin glowed in the dim room. His black on black attire looked crisp and expensive, like the gray scruff filling his jaw and lining his lips. 

Something was magnetic about him—his presence drew others in without trying or caring.

Someone in the group spoke, and Dieter laughed again. Another half-hearted smile tugged at his lips before falling into a thin, flat line.

You found yourself slipping from your seat and leaving your drink behind as you moved closer. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe because Dieter resonated with your pain. Even in a crowd full of joy and glittering faces, you felt alone.

As you neared the group, your heel caught on an ugly red and green throw rug, making you tumble into the actor and ceasing the chatter.

"Whoa, hey now," Dieter blurts, catching you with one arm.

He weaved it securely around your waist as you both stumbled away from the group. You clutched his broad shoulders, a safe haven if you ever knew one, and steadied your heels back on the ground. Thankfully, his drink didn’t spill all over his suit and your dress.

"You okay?" Dieter's voice was warm and familiar despite the fact you'd had never met him before. His hands lingered on your waist, a wry thumb rubbing the dark butter like velvet, zeroing all his attention on you.

You cleared your throat and bid the flames that fanned your cheeks away. "I'm so sorry. I normally don't wear heels." You apologize. "Pobody's Nerfect!"

Dieter's dark eyes caught like a bright starscape in the sparkling overhead lights as he laughed wholeheartedly at the silly phrase. It was genuine and natural, forcing himself to hold his belly and bowl over with honest laughter.

As he catches his breath, he wipes a tear from his eye. "Did you come up with that?" 

You shrugged and waved a hand, "I wish. I'm not that clever."

"I highly doubt that." the actor comments, before taking a sip of his drink. “You must be someone special to be invited to a party like this." He raises the glass toward the throngs of people filling the massive living room.

You cock your head. "My boss is someone special. Thankfully, they need me like a goose needs a gaggle."

His eyes go wide once more. "There you go again!" 

You wave him off, but inside, you're melting. 

A waiter places a tray of food on a table to your right, distracting the both of you.

"Do you think anyone actually eats these tiny hors d'oeuvres, or are they for like little Christmas elves?" Dieter asked, glancing at a tray of tiny canapés.

You chuckled. "I'm pretty sure they're just to make the people who aren't drinking feel productive. Like, here, eat this, pretend you're having a full meal."

He laughed again. It gets better every time you hear it— it lights up the room. 

"Wanna be productive with me?" he flirts, picking up one of the tiny snacks and holding it out to you with doe eyes.

You quirked a brow, hesitant for a split second before biting into the canapés. It was absurdly delicious for something so small, and you giggled, caught off guard by how natural it felt to talk to him.

"How do you look so... untouchable on screen and so normal off it?" you question without thinking.

Dieter tilted his head, his smile softening. "I'm really good at pretending." He drifts off, eyes wandering to the floor, thoughts drifting to the front of his mind before he takes a healthy swig from his glass. "Sometimes it's nice to escape yourself for a while."

You nod, understanding the need to run away.  

"Are you working on any new art?" You try to lighten the mood, glancing at the red paint under his trimmed nails. "I can't wait for the next mind-bending piece from the one and only Mr. Bravo."

He smiled again, that knowing, almost mischievous look in his eyes. "Wouldn't little Ms. Canapés like to know." he teases, the warmth in his voice holding something more than just casual conversation.

Just then, someone at the bar called his name. Dieter turned his head, briefly distracted by the person waving him over. You take a timid step back, wishing you had more time with the artist, but before you can move, a reveler nudges you toward the archway where the mistletoe hangs.

You glanced at Dieter, who was still distracted by the call but now seemed to have noticed where you were standing. He looked at you with a wry smirk.

"Do you believe in fate?" he queries, his voice suddenly quieter.

You whisper, heart in your throat. "I suppose so."

He takes a step toward you, his leather wing tips shuffle against the floor, and for a moment, the noise of the party fades as the space between you closes. The dim lights cast shadows that make his features even more inviting. There was something in his gaze—something natural and soft that wasn't at all like the characters he portrayed on screen.

Without a word, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that felt like it had been waiting to happen. It wasn't dramatic or rushed, just slow and honest, as though the mistletoe wasn't just some holiday tradition but the beginning of something unexpected.

When you pull away, Dieter smiles again, this time with a hint of surprise. "That was... festive."

You chuckle, a little breathless. "I hope I'm still on Santa's Nice List now."

"The Nice List?" Dieter raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, don't you want to get what you wished for?" You jibe, grin widening as you step back, giving him space to leave.

Dieter snorts, glancing toward the bar as more people wave him over. "Oh, but I already did," he winks.

Your face flames. You bite your cheek, trying your best to not squeal.

The two of you share one last look before the crowd pulls him away. Neither of you could quite shake the moment. 

As the night continued, shared glances from across the room kept you busy. Every conversation with someone new resulted in sincere apologies when you had them repeat what they said because a particular actor kept stealing your attention.

It seemed you distracted him just as much at times. You caught him dragging his eyes down your frame and back up again. He'd either cower like a thief caught red-handed or gaze at you like he wanted to watch the sun come up with you in his bed. 

The crowd of people slowly dwindled down as the clock struck midnight. Much to your dismay, you'd lost sight of Dieter an hour ago when he stepped out onto the back patio for a smoke with a fellow actor. You begrudgingly slipped on your heavy coat, headed down the front steps to the SUV, idling at the curb, and waited for your boss. 

Leaning against the passenger door, you slowly breathe in the crisp night. The heated feelings that swarmed your belly all evening finally simmered to a rolling boil.

"Canapés?" 

You jerk against the metal door as a voice chimes to your right. You clutch your chest with a gasp.

Dieter appears from the shadows, hands raised, like he's dealing with a stray animal. "Shit, sorry, it's only me." He cringes at the slight fear in your eyes.

"You bastard." You curse with a playful huff. "Wait, did you just call me Canapés?"

He flashes an awkward grin and anxiously rubs the back of his neck. "Well, I forgot to ask your name, and I didn't realize until after we kissed, and then I thought it was too late. I don't want to be "that guy."  Dieter mimes quotations in the air and swallows hard. "So, yeah."

You step closer, your heels clink against the cement, as you whisper your name and slink your arms around his shoulders. Dieter once again weaves his hold around your velvet waist, molding your body to his.

His plush lips brush across yours. "We don't have any mistletoe." He states cheekily.

"I would've kissed you without it in the first place." You confess, pressing your lips to his for another precious moment before he breaks the kiss. 

"Wanna go make it on Santa’s Naughty list with me?" 

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[talonabraxas]

“Dionysus is the life-spirit of all green vegetation – ivy, pine tree and especially the vine; he is, in Dylan Thomas’ phrase, “the force that through the green fuse drives the flower.” — Sophocles Dionysus Talon Abraxas Dionysus, the son of Zeus and Semele, was a Greek god who represented the more spontaneous and unrestrained aspects of human experience. He was the god of wine, winemaking, fertility, music, dance, and inspiration, and was sometimes counted among the Twelve Olympians—the most important gods of the Greek pantheon.

The mythology and cult of Dionysus were often characterized by madness. Some sources claimed that Dionysus used his invention of wine to drive his enemies mad, while others said that Dionysus himself went mad. Said to have traveled far and wide, Dionysus was regarded as a bringer of civilization in the form of wine cultivation—with both positive and negative consequences. Dionysus was usually imagined as a youthful god. His most common attributes pertained to his function as the god of wine and intoxication; these included grapevines or grapes and a special kind of ivy-covered wand called a thyrsus.

In art, Dionysus was often shown holding a large wine cup. He was also associated with wild cats, especially leopards and panthers; ancient artists liked to depict him riding these exotic creatures. His entourage included mythical beings such as satyrs and silens and frenzied female worshippers called maenads.

Dionysus was worshipped throughout the Greek world, though the Greeks themselves thought of him as a foreign god imported from the East. The cult of Dionysus tended to revolve around ecstasy and intoxication; because of this, Dionysus was often viewed as a god who lived on the edge of civilization.

At the same time, Dionysus was worshipped as a god of culture and the arts. Indeed, it was at the annual festival of Dionysus in Athens that Greek tragedies and comedies—some of the most important literary creations of the ancient world—were performed in honor of Dionysus.

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

Really, we shouldn’t be surprised by now but I have more amazing jily AU fics to share because the writers of this fandom are incredibly talented and I have my screen report to prove it.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.

serendipity by desperateforsanity (on ao3)

Modern college/uni AU. Dearest Students and Staff, I am pleased to announce Hogwarts University’s fourth annual Pen Pal Program. Upperclassmen and sophomores likely remember and cherish the memories of their previous penpals and are excited to make another friend this year.

TW: for the later chapters for discussions of grief and its effects on one's mental well-being. For the most part, though this is a fun fic full of great banter!

The Frenzied Misadventures of Balcony Man and Window Woman by @clare-with-no-i

prompt: "It's 3am why are you outside my window- are you trying to rob me?"

It feels necessary to preface this entire thing with the fact that, yes, James had good reason to be dangling precariously from a third-floor balcony, and anyone who says differently is simply attempting to smear his good name.

At least, that’s the story he’s sticking to.

Hijinks & Shenanigans

mellow is the man (who knows what he's been missing) also by @/ clare-with-no-i

Earl's Court. 24th May, 1975. Led Zeppelin live in concert like you've never seen them before.

FEATURING: prolonged eye contact, deeply metaphoric descriptions of cigarette smoke, painful levels of detail about makeup, and a special one-time performance by Two Teens In Love! OR: the "we made eye contact at a Led Zeppelin concert but my friends pulled me away to mosh before I could come say hello" AU

So when I say that I saw this unfold frame by frame in my head, I mean the writing is on another level. The way that I could almost smell Earl Court ... I regret waiting so long to read it. Also, found out this is written by the same author as one of my favourite jily fics foreigner’s god so that explains it “I'm not a religious person but I do sometimes think God made you for me.” ― Sally Rooney, Normal People

but he’s a little bit too far away by @firefeufuego

Historical AU. A decade after they met as cadets for The Times, the toll of James chasing stories in war zones is starting to hit home for Lily.

Taking A Shot At You by @annabtg

Modern AU. Lily Evans, pharmacist, has to work all day and night on New Year's Eve - and ends up ringing in the new year with a bloke who just got himself a dog bite.

The Right Track by BeeDaily (on ao3)

Co-workers modern AU. When James is first handed the train ticket, his immediate reaction is to laugh openly in his father's face.

the horoscope by lirians

Modern AU. James stops momentarily to give way to a bunch of rambunctious teenagers on the pavement before he regains his step. Lily has come to a halt a bit further, waiting on him.

“Horoscopes?” he asks as they move onwards. He’s relieved that any awkwardness between them is apparently gone. “How so?”

“Marly sent me mine this week because it said I would meet someone from the past again,” she explains. “I’m still not sold on the idea of it, but isn’t this weird?”

I was inspired to read this by this art

The Falcon and The Squid by @jfleamont

There's a Lego Millennium Falcon that needs to be built. There's also a bet, a ring and a bike.

Put it all together and what do you get?

Leda's jily will always be a favourite of mine. They're idiots in love your honour

Glastonbury by elanev91 (on ao3)

Prompt: we're at a music festival and you crawled into my tent when drunk and fell asleep, now you've woken up bewildered and to be honest I should be more annoyed but you're just so good looking

One Day at Time by @sweeethinny

Single-mum-lily AU. One day at a time is the mantra Lily uses to keep peace inside her mind, but there are days when it's simply impossible and in the end all she needs is a glass of wine, a cozy hug with her boyfriend, and a serious talk with her son.

Note that you can read this as a stand-alone one shot but it's part of a series that takes place in this AU

For All My Life by aheartcalledhome & SecondJadeofLan (on ao3)

When saving the bees ends in a happy family.

pumpkins and blueberries by evotter (on ao3)

Modern soulmate AU. In which Lily Evans hates puzzles, Marlene McKinnon is a coffee-making goddess, and the stuffy manager with the unkempt hair just so happens to be Lily's soulmate. In the wise words of Mary Macdonald, nothing is scarier than a relationship. Especially if it's with your soulmate.

After Moon by lovesickjily (on ao3)

When the universe sent Lily back in time for some inexplicable reason, she didn’t realise that she’d fall for the charming, messy-haired Prince along the way, nor did she realise that she’d see him once again.

here's to never growing up by elixirsoflife (on ao3)

Chat fic where a group chat documents the lives of four highly dramatic teenage boys as they navigate their A Levels.

Or, like, die trying.

Okay, I rarely ever read chat fics, they're just not my thing. BUT this one had me wheezing on my way to school. It's crack. Just treat it like crack

Ice Baby also by elixirsoflife

Modern college/uni AU. In his defence, James never expected to meet his soulmate at thirteen minutes past eleven on a Sunday morning when he’s aiming a puck at Sirius’ balls.

Or: call me sweetheart again and I'll punch you in the throat.

Not a Clue by PotterandEvans (on ao3)

Modern college/uni Quarantine AU. Lily stood in the doorway of the flat, looking at the boy in front of her. She had spent most of the last two years keeping her distance from the annoying piece of work, staying away from his ego mostly. “Come in.” She said, stepping away from the doorway to let him into the flat that she usually shared with Remus.

"Ah, so kind." James muttered as he walked inside, his heavy bag weighing him down. This really was not the ideal situation, for either of them. But he had nowhere else to go, so staying with Lily Evans it was going to have to be.

they were zoommates (requires an ao3 account) by elanev91 (on ao3)

Modern college/uni Quarantine AU. Lily's on lockdown and, because she can't help herself, signs herself up for a whole bunch of extra (and free) work with her ad agency. Minerva, her boss, assigns a cheeky social media manager to her team to help her. Also, Marlene discovers TikTok (this is nowhere near as important to the narrative as its inclusion here suggests).

And You Heard About Me (Ooh, We’ve Got Some Big Enemies!) by @wearingaberetinparis

Fame AU. Lily Evans is a Grammy-winning singer-songwriter and global superstar, who recently broke up from her latest and long-term actor boyfriend Amos Diggory. James Potter is a professional football player who plays as a forward for Manchester United and has never been quiet about his celebrity crush: Lily Evans. When Lily Evans thus plays at Wembley Stadium - a place he is more than familiar with due to his being part of the England team - he just has to go and see her perform, embracing his inner, besotted fan boy, while the woman on stage is completely oblivious to his presence. Or is she?

The most unrealistic part was man u winning (but it's James so that explains it). Regardless, I started this fic while waiting for my final grades from last year to come through, and while they were disappointing, this sure wasn't. I was crying so hard that I fell asleep. Then I woke up and continued the fic and suddenly I was giggling along with Lilly. Anything and everything Mary writes is a masterpiece. Thank you for sharing this wonderful story.

it continues (the beginning doesn't matter) by whitesunlars (on ao3)

She is the last person he expected at his door at that exact moment, despite feeling unsure about the fact that she managed to track down his address, he agrees to go out to coffee with her. A lot could be said about James Potter, but nobody could claim that he had good self-preservation skills.

They meet in a bar. Mistakes happen. They learn to keep going.

[scotianostra]

28th November 1489 saw the birth of Margaret Tudor, the sister of Henry VIII of England who would go on to become the wife of James IV of Scotland.

Little is known of Margarets younger years, I say younger but she was 13 years old when she was married off to James IV, as part of a treaty of ‘perpetual peace’ between the two kingdoms and to provide the dynamic, ambitious king with the partner who would help him enhance Scotland’s prestige.

James was 30 and already had at least 5 children illegitimately by then to 4 different women! Having sad that, you might be shocked at her young age but she had been thoroughly trained for her new role and was determined to prove that she was equal to its demands.

Arriving in Scotland in August 1503 the couple were introduced a few days later at Dalkeith, she rode pillion behind him into Edinburgh, to the great approbation of the populace, and James guided her through official functions with his arm around her waist.

The couple wore matching outfits of white damask for their glittering marriage at Holyrood Abbey. James spent extravagantly on preparing accommodation for his queen and on the wedding festivities: a quarter of his annual income went on wine alone. And he shaved his beard after the wedding, at his wife’s behest.

At first Margaret hated Scotland, she was a prolific letter writer to her father and most of them survive to this day, it made matters worse that 6 months before being sent north she had lost her beloved mother who died a day after the death of her 8th child, who she had given birth to just over a week before, she was aged just 37.

The young Queen’s initial fears were unfounded, she swiftly settled into her position as Scotland’s queen, helped by the attention lavished on her by James IV. Clothed in rich furs and gowns and showered with jewels, she did, indeed, lack nothing. Their reign saw a golden age for Scotland, the arts and literature flourished, however the Kings policies were to bring him into conflict with his young brother-in-law in England and deepen a rift between Margaret and Henry. When the French called on James to attack England as part of The Auld Alliance it made matters worse.

We lost or King an “The Flower of Scotland” at Flodden and Margaret was left a widow with little to return south to.

Margret was named regent for the infant James V but there was a proviso she was not to remarry, she misjudged the will of the people and ignored this, marrying the Earl of Angus, a man whose family had a history of splitting Scotland.

There is loads more history of Margaret Tudor, it’s a big read over 20 pages http://tudortimes.co.uk/people/margaret-tudor-life-story

[thebigsl33p]

A Safe Pair of Hands

Aleksander Morozova X Reader (can be read as platonic or romantic. Neutral grisha Fem!reader)

Winter in Ravka comes fast. And it stays. It blankets the ground in thick white snow, freezes the soil and puts frost on window panes. The only time it seems to stop snowing in the city is the early morning, just before the sun properly rises, there is always a slight reprieve in the falling snow.

That's when he wakes. Like clockwork, every winter morning. He finds the fire from the night before has long died in the hearth, and the Palace floors are cold beneath his feet, even as he cleans himself and pulls on his dark Kefta and heavy boots in preparation for the day ahead.

By the time the rest of the city wakes, he's already working, his hands meticulously writing letters and commands with a face like stone.

As the early morning sun rises the city swells with sound and smells, of mulled wines and drinking chocolate, sweet nuts and cinnamon. On one street you can hear both the sounds of celebratory folk songs and the wails of an ill child. In the streets and the homes people bundle up as well as they can, food turns from being light and easy to being warm and hearty.

And still, he works.

That is until, his study door is pushed open in a familiar creak and a H/C haired woman walks in with a lazy grin. She's soft and smiling, her E/C eyes are so very alive with a blatant love for life.

"Y/N," The Darkling says her name softly, setting down his quill as she enters the room. She's holding two cups of hot chocolate, one for herself and one inevitably for him. She sets it down on his desk and comes to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder at his work, "Thank you," he uttered.

"No problem." She says nonchalantly, and she leans forward, her fingers gently pulling a map out from underneath the letter he's writing, "Working already? it's barely 8:30, Aleks." she says with a fond, exasperated, sigh.

He responds with his own amused huff, "You know how it is, Y/N." He says simply, running a hand through his dark hair - pushing it off his face in doing so. He feels the chair he's sitting in shift slightly as she rests her arms on the back of it - the only person who could get away with such a thing.

"You working all day?" She inquires, eyebrows raising slightly as she sips her drink.

"Perhaps." His hands reach for his own cup, barely feeling the warmth of the mug for his thick leather gloves, "Depends, really." He says.

"On what?" She tilted her head around to get a better look at him, her eyebrows narrowing in playful inquisition.

He knew her well. Knew, she only ever asked if he was working all day, when she wanted to do something. Something with him, inevitably.

"Depends what it is you want to drag me into now," He said, in mock annoyance, but mostly amusement.

"Oh, cmon it's a lovely day Aleksand-"

"It's snowing."

"A lovely winter's day, then." She folds her arms, leaning down to his ear to teasingly whisper, in a persuasive sing-song lilt, "Os Alta will be a wonder to see in the cold. And you don't get out enough."

"We'll both be stared at like art exhibitions," he answered, gruff and dryly, "Everything we do-"

"Not in the market we won't." she challenged, "Oh, come on Aleksander. One winter market. It'll be good fun, promise."

And that's how he ended up here, his arm linked with hers as they walked through the annual Winter Market. His boots crunched the snow beneath them, his large dark cloak creating a striking figure of darkness in a crowd of bright festive colours. And her beside him, in her (Grisha Colour) Kefta, and her cloak. Without thinking much about it he tucks the hand around his arm into the crook of it and murmurs, half-scoldingly, "I told you to bring your gloves."

She simply hums a soft, half-listening, "Yeah." She's so distracted by the market, the foods, the people, the jewellery, the clothes, the music. It's something she's seen all her life, every winter, but it takes her breath away nonetheless.

"Y/N," he huffs, shaking his head in mock sternness and disappointment.

"What?!" She laughs, turning to face him with a smile, "I'm sorry. I forgot, okay? Besides, I'll be fine. I'll survive." She says with a grin.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, but absentmindedly caresses her hands in a slight attempt to keep her warm... or warmer than she is.

As the day progresses, he finds himself being dragged to various stalls and stands, Y/N already with coin in her hand to pay for whatever sweet treat she's decided they'll share. ...And for once, he lets her.

And so, they walk back to the Little Palace, arm in arm, with a paper bag of sugared nuts between them, having spent the day snacking on various hot chocolates and mulled wines, reviewing different wrapping papers and potential gifts, trying different meats, vegetables and cheeses with soft laughter as the snow fell upon them.

And now as the sun sets early, they walk back. Her hand is still tucked into the warm crook of his arm, and they're laughing together about something or other. In that moment, he's glad the street is empty. No guards, no nobles, no royals or other Grisha. It's just her and him, and for once, in the snow and in the soft winter dusk, he can simply exist as her Aleksander. Her Sasha.

He knows, that when they get back to the Little Palace, she'll kick off her snow covered boots by his study door - despite his insistence she doesn't need to - and she'll enter his study. She'll throw a few extra logs into the hearth as he takes off his Kefta and hangs it up, before they both take their places on the loveseat by the fireplace.

She laughs at something he says, the snowflakes catching on her eyelashes, in her hair, on her nose. For a moment, he allows himself to feel sentimental - a sudden rush of relief and appreciation for human connection. He leans down, and as her eyes and nose wrinkle in her laughter, he presses a soft kiss to her cheek.

it catches her slightly, and she finishes her laughter with a soft content sigh, gives his arm a slight squeeze, and they continue their winter walk home.

A/N: HI I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN SO LONG!! finally got a new laptop so I am working today, working. Working hard so I can please you. (I'm really sorry if you don't know what this is)

[zeldaspellmaniswife]

As requested from ✨ayenaenelya✨

AN:To those who haven't or don't watch CAOS this isn't the right fanfic for you, but you're always welcome to read it. Some I do before we start, this fanfic takes place when the the Lubricalia Festival happens: Lupercalia was an ancient Roman annual festival held in mid February against evil spirits and to bring fertility. Also, no gender for reader was preferred so when you read this, you can decide if you want to read it with male or female reader.

Drunken Lubricalia Festivities

It was the first night of the Lubricalia Festival at the Academy of the Unseen Arts you, and your wife, Zelda Spellman, are participating in this festival along with your niece Sabrina Spellman. "Zeldaa!" you say, "Do we have to celebrate Lubricalia, of all the festivities, why must we celebrate this odious festival?" "Because darling, to celebrate and honor all the witches and warlocks that came before us." Zelda says you roll your eyes clearly unhappy having to go "Watch that attitude, darling" you groan annoyed, Zelda looks at you with a stern look as always but she puts her hand on your cheek "Look, I know you don't want to celebrate Lubricalia, but just do it, for me?" Zelda lowers her tone to a seductive, almost pouty tone "Ugh! Fine, only for you." You say annoyed. Many hours later after preparation for the festival is completed all the students and staff at the academy and you and Zelda are in the wood ready to commence the first night of Lubricalia. "I have to what!?" You say in a shocked and possibly mad voice "Yes darling, you have to be only in your undergarments and let me run oil all over your body" Zelda says in the most casual tone "But-" you try to protest "But nothing, just sit back and relax while I do this." " Okay.... Fine" you pout " You brought the wine right??" "Of course indid, darling" Zelda says. Not even two seconds later you're already on your fifth glass of wine and drunk and flirt with Zelda "Hey, there beautiful, did anyone ever tell you you're easy on the eyes?" Zelda looks at you with an arches brow "Darling, are you drunk?" You flirt some more "Are you single?" Zelda says "No, I'm married" you cry "Damn it! Why is it always sthe super hot women that are married!?" Zelda says again "Darling, are you drunk?" "What, me? Pfft! No" Zelda then looks at you "Then say the alphabet backwards" you freeze for a second then respond "Z Y X W U R" " You're drunk." Zelda pinches the bridge of her nose "That's it were going home, and you're sleeping on the couch tonight" Zelda says coldly " Fine! We're not even married so I don't have to worry" You arrive back to the Spellman Mortuary and Zelda bathes you then puts you in your PJs and puts you on the couch for the night. The next day you wake up with a massive hangover and Zelda says upset "That's what you get for being drunk, darling!"

[aurorabayrpg]

EVENT 016 {OCTOBER 1ST - NOVEMBER 1ST} AURORA BAY’S HALLOWEEN FESTIVITIES - PART 1 & 2

Summer has come and gone, the temperatures are cooling, and pumpkin spice is in everything! It’s finally time for one of Aurora Bay’s biggest events thrown by Town Hall, Aurora Bay’s Halloween Festival!

For the last couple weeks in town, residents will have noticed that the town has slowly been putting up their fall decorations, with pumpkins taking their places at front door steps, paper ghosts in the windows, and even a few scarecrows around the square!

There will be plenty of family-friendly fun, but perhaps the most anticipated part of the festival will be the Halloween costume party held at Sharky's, our Monster Mash! Once again there will be a costume contest with plenty of prizes! More info will come later in the month.

OOC INFO BELOW:

Here's our next event, and just like last year, it'll be running all month long to give everyone plenty of time to plot and play with some Halloween scares!

Here's a list of some of just some of the things you'll find in town this year: (*If you'd like your shop to have anything special going on this month, please let us know so we can add it to the list!)

Botanical Gardens:

Corn Maze running daily (after 8pm it becomes haunted!)

Halloween lights and inflatables all around for a nightly lit-up walking trail

Food stands with kettle corn, caramel apples, etc.

Aurora Bay's Art Museum:

Running all month long, a special spooky art exhibit featuring unsettling works, haunted artifacts, and macabre paintings all while reading up on stories of famous artists throughout time that met gruesome (and oftentimes untimely) deaths.

Charles Levin Theater:

Join us all month long for the Theatre's production of The Phantom of the Opera. Keep your eyes up on the chandelier!

Sunrise Winery:

hard cider and mulled wine tastings

a pick-your-own pumpkin patch

pumpkin carving and painting stations

Sunset Drive-In:

Every weekend Sunset Drive-in will be showing Halloween movies, ranging from movies for children all the way to those super scary movies for the adults! Movie schedule will be posted around town for everyone to plan their movie nights!

Around town:

Hayrides (nighttime haunted rides running Friday thru Sunday evenings)

Specialty menus at shops like Sweet Nothings and Driftwood Coffee

Fall styles and Halloween costume items at Sea Glass Boutique and Hidden Gems Thrift Store

A haunted house open nightly- enter if you dare!

Pop-up candy spots all around town for an early trick-or-treat all month long!

and new this year, an Aurora Bay Haunted Tour!

Every evening, join a walking tour through places said to be haunted in town including the All-Nighter Diner, Aurora Bay's Lighthouse, and then to the docks to hear scary tales of merfolk that are said to reside just below Aurora Bay's waters.

Read about what you’ll learn on the haunted tour HERE

Neighborhoods:

Trick-or-treating will obviously take place on Halloween night, so make sure you have plenty of candy for all the little gremlins of our little beach town!

Halloween decorations on the lawns and houses of anyone wanting to participate (feel free to make posts of what those decorations look like and tag our aesthetics blog!)

Part Two:

Sharky's Monster Mash:

Sharky's will once again be holding their annual Halloween party, The Monster Mash! This will be part 2 of the event, so we'll let you know when it's time to post costumes and threads for this one!

Please feel free to make posts of your character's Halloween costumes and tag our aesthetic blog as well as tag it as #ab.halloween , as well as put your character's name and the name of who they're dressed as in the description! And if you're doing a couple's costume, make sure you tag your partner in there as well! This helps us admins keep up with everything!

Like last year, we'll reblog all the costumes to our aesthetics page and we'll make a masterlist of them all where muns can vote for their fave costumes!

Categories will be: best costume, best couples costume, funniest costume, sexiest costume, most creative costume!

A second post will be made for this part of the event, giving all the dates and more info on the party!

RULES: (this will be expanded on during part 2!)

Players do not have to participate in Sharky's Halloween party, decorating houses, or dressing up if they do not wish to!

Per usual, the first 5 open starters may be posted without muns replying to others first, but if open starters have plenty of notes or you've already replied to them, feel free to go ahead and post another!

[floriansfurryfantasies]

Between Bramble & Briar. Home for Yule ~ Part One. (SFW)

AUTHOR NOTE: This episode is a cute, cosy, and SFW (a smidge suggestive, in parts) glimpse into the Blackthorn's traditional Yuletide family festivities.

WORD COUNT: 2442

TAGLIST: @caxycreations

Let me know if you'd like to be added to BBB's tag list.

Over the crackled, charcoal surface of the Yule log, amber flames flickered. Beneath, the ember glowed. The fire would burn all night, slowly consuming the feast of its fat log. Downey Cottage would be kept warm and cosy throughout this, the longest night.

This time of year was truly one for feasting. Ada Blackthorn had spent four months stowing away Yuletide provisions in her pantry, as she did every year until the time was right to spend three days preparing her traditional feast. The shortest day of the year was one in which the Blackthorn's spent the most time eating. From pies and nut roasts to cakes, biscuits and buns, platters of crackers, conserves, and cheese, the sideboard in the kitchen was laden with many delicious treats. Ermine's part to play began in the cellar in late August when he'd harvested all the fruit and barley he required to make his meads and wines. This annual tradition usually ended with the old mouse, drunk and singing himself to sleep in his armchair, come dawn after he'd shared all the fables and tales he could muster.

Taking after his found father, with a full belly and what remained of his mulled wine in hand, Arthur retired to the Blackthorn's couch.

It was a given that he'd been invited to share in their festivities, yet he could never escape being the odd one out. Now, the nest of some two dozen merry mice had left their abode to watch the Battle of the Holly and Oak Kings—as was tradition. It was being reenacted in a little coppice of trees on the way out of the hamlet toward his own village: Briarbury. Furfolk from four villages around gathered to watch as the moon hung high in the mid-winter sky. All bundled up and full of food and cheer, glad that the rebirth of the sun was upon them. But tonight, Arthur didn't plan to join in.

Downing the last mouthful of his mulled wine, he found it cool and less pleasant, but it couldn't put a dampener on an otherwise pleasant day.

At ten o'clock, he'd pulled in at Briarbury train station from Dornbury. He always closed The Sanctuary during Yuletide.

From there, it was a short walk home to change his clothes and shed his Florian facade. Then, another walk, only a few minutes more, into Hedgley Woodhouse to Downey Cottage.

Beneath his feet, a dusting of snow chilled his paws, but the scarf about his neck kept the wind from biting. He anticipated that the Blackthorn's home would be as scorching as July. The range would have been on all the day prior and perhaps even through the night. Ermine would have already stoked the fire in the living room, ready to receive the Yule log, not to mention the number of bodies bustling about the home.

And he was right—the place was heaving! All the Blackthorn children and their spouses had arrived. He could have sworn there were more pups every year.

Letting himself in through the front door, he ducked inside and was immediately hit by an overload of stimuli: the chatter and laughter, the smell of home cooking, and the heat! It was the same every year, and every year, it filled his heart with gladness to be a part of it all. This was true family life. This was his secret dream, and each Yule, he got to immerse himself in the illusion that it was his own.

"Aup, Art! S'good to see you. Keeping well?" A familiar face greeted, thrusting a warm furless paw into his and giving it as hearty a shake as a five-foot mouse could muster. It was one of the Blackthorn brothers.

Weaving his way down the hall, he was met with a warm welcome from every mouse he came across and stripped of his coat and scarf by the mice that felt like kin.

"Make yourself at home."

"Mam! Artie is here!" Someone called toward the kitchen.

"How goes business then?" A mouse asked, pulling his pipe from his lips and allowing a plume of smoke to be free of his snout.

"Dad has outdone himself with the mead this year, mate. Here, get some down ya." A pint of brown was put into his hand.

"I heard there was some nasty business in Dornbury–"

"–Oh, damned rats causing trouble again, is it?"

"Wouldn't surprise me."

"Did you hear about it, Artie?"

"Go on, get on wi'ya! Leave the poor lad be!" Ada's usually gentle voice barked through the cacophony when she appeared in the hallway. Although she stood barely four feet tall, the portly and bonny-looking mouse was the Queen of her castle. She had raised a nest of mouse pups—five boys as wild and roving as brambles. She wasn't to be messed with—a maternal veteran with a heart of gold and nerves of steel.

Once she'd wiped her dainty paws on her floral pinny, she reached up for Arthur's arm and pulled him to her. She didn't have to ask; he knew the drill and leaned down so she could brush her fingers through the trim of his cheek fur and give him a kiss.

"Lovely to have you home, sweetheart." Her smile plumped her rosy cheeks as she spoke.

"Sorry, chaps, I'll catch you later." Arthur looked back apologetically, though internally glad of the rescue. He was led through a passage under the stairs, past the cellar door, and down a step into the kitchen.

"Offf, what a rabble." Ada tittered, rolling her blackberry eyes. "I've got a bramley pie in here with your name on it, love. I've been batting them off like flies all morning."

Arthur laughed. Mrs Blackthorn always let him have the first slice, seeing as it was his favourite flavour pie. That warm feeling he adored, dare he call it motherly love, filled his chest.

"Ad–"

"Ah ah! Less of that young man." She wouldn't abide him calling her by her given name.

"Mam–" he corrected, his ears folded bashfully. "–but it's not even lunchtime yet."

"Suit yourself. But I can't keep them off it much longer. It'll be gone by lunch and cold, too, if you don't tuck in now."

The heat gathered the closer they got to the range. Now, standing on the kitchen's terracotta tiles, the chill in his paws had thawed completely. He scrunched his toes into his pads, enjoying how the numbness melted into toasty warmth.

Most of the family's women were gathered around the kitchen table. Their chatter was lilting and choral.

Upon the lap of one such sister sat a pretty little pup. Her single curl tied in a crimson bow between the dishlike ears she had years to grow into, and the pretty broadie anglaise frills of her frock matched in colour. She was indeed a beauty. Her beady eyes peered at him through the crowd of her kin like ripe damsons. Perhaps he was the first ferret she had ever seen, but the sweet little thing wasn't frightened of how he towered over her aunts; instead, she beamed, grinning with only her two front teeth to show for it.

Her fixation on him turned a few heads, and then a new wave of welcomes began.

"Aw Arthur, it's good to see you love."

He was beckoned to sit at the table and nudged along by Mrs Blackthorn, who presented him with a fat slice of bramley pie accompanied by a mountain of whipped cream.

"Ya' keeping well?" Someone asked, rubbing his back to warm him to the seat he'd found.

"That big city is being kind, I hope." His mead was pushed aside the moment he set it down. A cup and saucer took its place, and from over the table, one of the sisters poured him a cup of tea from the pot that had been steeping. Another sister added a spoonful of sugar, and then another furnished his saucer with an oat and raisin biscuit that neared the size of the saucer itself.

"Oh, yes, especially with all that ratty business that's been in the paper."

"We don't have to talk about that, do we?" The mother of the pup scowled as she handed her baby over.

Without question, Arthur took hold of the infant and smiled down at her as she began to coo.

"Isn't she a beauty?" A familiar voice chirped from behind. Searching for a face, he found her to his right—Lillie Blackthorn, the youngest of the Blackthorn siblings, though she was by no means the baby of the family anymore. She was a woman now—he wished he hadn't noticed.

Usually, Lillie would have stood a foot below his shoulder, but as he was sitting, they were about the same height. Her treacle-coloured eyes glistened as they caught the cool winter sunlight pouring in through the window, and they warmed it. Her smile was warmer still.

"Uh, yes, a beauty. I think I'm in love."

"With a mouse?" A few of the women giggled in unison.

"What're you like, Arthur? You're so funny." They shook their heads at the comedy.

"He'd be potty to not fall for our little Lottie." The mother cooed as she tapped the twitchy pink nose of her pup. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"She is absolutely adorable." Lillie joined in the giggling but couldn't deflect Arthur from noticing how her ears twitched backwards before she centred herself. For a while, he'd been wondering what all the little mannerisms, one-second displays of disappointment, crest falleness, sorrow, and yearning summed up to mean. He hoped he was reading her wrong. His assumption, if proven, would be devastating.

Pulling up a stool, Lillie wedged herself between one of her sisters and Arthur and stole the biscuit from his saucer without a care. It looked like she was fine, after all. There's no need for him to worry... Or so he thought...

"You know, not everyone Mates their own kind these days," Lillie announced.

"Being at that University is going to your head, girl." Her sister yoinked at her ear. Their disapproval was real but gently spoken, with concern, love, and a little bit of comedy to help it go down.

"You'll think differently when you meet the right mouse." Another said.

Arthur kept quiet, now four spoonfuls into the bramley pie. He licked the tart-tasting, jammy juices from his lips and sipped his tea. It washed it all down quite pleasantly.

"And before you know it, you're married and have a pup on the way."

"What if I have kits instead?" Lillie asked nonchalantly, rhetorically, as she tickled her niece's chin.

Amidst the chorus of cackles—as if she had cracked the century's funniest joke—Arthur felt a tail slip over the top of his thigh beneath the table. It came from his right-hand side, which meant it was Lillie's. As if her comment hadn't been enough, a tightness took over his hips, and his tail bolted straight as the bushy tip of hers flicked further into his inner thigh. It was all too much! It caused the last mouthful of his tea to burble back up his throat and ensnared him—sending him into a fit of coughing and spluttering into a closed fist, unable to keep any composure. Wide and bewildered, his eyes found Lillie, who grinned deviously. Those treacle eyes had darkened salaciously as she peered up at him through her lashes. It was only for a second, but he couldn't mistake the desire in them. What did that mean?

Then, her nose twitched, and like a switch had been flipped, a musical thrill of innocent girlish giggles came from her.

"It's just a thought. Things are different in the city. You see all sorts there."

"Well, never you mind what happens in the city. The city isn't for girls like you, my Lil' Liza." Ada's hand found her daughter's shoulder as she placed a slice of pie before her and kissed the back of her ear lovingly. "You get your education and come right on home to where you belong. Tommy isn't going to wait forever."

Thomas Barlstep—Lillie's ex-boyfriend. A barley field mouse and son of Ermine's Skittles club and school pal, Frances Barlstep. Tommy was held in high regard by the Blackthorn's. He was an ol' country boy, a hard-working barley farmer like his father. He lived up to his family name and was a sunny sort of fellow, if not a bit simple. But he was kind and seemed a fit husband for their precious youngest daughter, who they thought needed her wild taming—a bumpkin would do just right.

The conversation erupted into how sweet Tommy was, how good a match he was, and how impressive his show of strength at that year's summer fate was. While her mother and sisters were distracted, Arthur noticed how Lillie sighed. How she toyed with her food rather than attempt to eat even a spoonful and the biscuit she'd pinched lay on the table missing only two bites.

"I've brought you a present." Arthur leant down to whisper near her ear as he laid his paw over the brush of her tail, which was still on his thigh.

Her closest ear flicked back to home in on his voice, and a moment later, her eyes found his. "Me too. It's in Dad's study." Lillie grinned, the inners of her ears flushing pinker. Meanwhile, her tail coiled over his fingers in an embrace. "Let's sneak out."

Arthur clutched onto her tail a bit tighter to dissuade her from leaving her seat just yet. "I've not finished my pie, and neither have you."

Although he could tell she really wanted to roll her eyes, instead, she resigned and enthusiastically dug a fork into the crust and finished Arthur's tea while she was at it. Lapping the fruity filling from her lips and dusting the crumbs from her snout, she blinked up at Arthur to see if he was finally satisfied enough to leave.

"Come on, before Vince gets here and whisks you away." Lillie's whispy tail eagerly coiled Arthur's wrist as she rose from the table to lead him away.

There was no way his leaving could be discreet. As he stood, he towered above the table and its occupants, the tips of his ears only an inch shy of the overhead beams.

"Where are you two off to?" Ada asked, though not accusatory or suspicious, just curious.

"We've got some books to share," Arthur explained with a simple smile.

"It's for school, Mammy."

"Alright, sweetheart. If you see your father, tell him there's a slice of pie for him in here."

[starlightoaks]

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO… STARLIGHT OAKS ANNUAL WINTER FESTIVAL!

Mayor Perry has personally invited you, as a citizen of Starlight Oaks, to attend the town’s annual Winter Festival! From Friday through to Sunday (26th January – 28th January), after 5pm, come join your neighbors in celebrating the season! This year is going to be the biggest festival yet, and we promise that you don’t want to miss out on the fun. This year’s festivities will include activities such as ice skating and mini golf. Come hungry, as the classic fair foods will all be available for purchase: cotton candy, elephant ears, pizza, kettle corn... but that's not all! A number of stalls operated by your local favorites will be popping up throughout the square that won't only satisfy the kids, but warm our adults from head to toe. Grab yourself a glass Cosmo's famous mulled wine while you're there! Or shimmer and shine with Gravi-tea's Winter Festival exclusive flavors! It won’t be the weekend to forget your wallet! And, don’t you fret! The holidays may be over, but colorful lights and brilliant art installations will decorate in formations that celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanzaa. Multiple streets along and around the town square will be blocked off, where there will be a small train that circles and brings you past the biggest light displays. If you’re looking for the rides, the ferris wheel will have just what you need! Take a few spins so you can take in the wonderful view that is the evergreen trees surrounding the area, and if you squint hard enough, you might just catch a glimpse of the glowing Starlight Pier in the distance. The ferris wheel will be the only ride available during this event. For our thrill seekers, keep an eye out for the spring fair! #StarOaksWinterFest

ACTIVITY IDEAS

ice skating, mini golf, giant board games (chess, checkers, connect four, etc), axe throwing, friendship bracelet making, silent disco, craft workshops + many more!

EVENT DETAILS

This event will begin on Friday, January 26th (from midnight PST) and end on Friday, February 2nd (at midnight PST).

All threads pertaining to the Winter Festival must begin during this period. No new starters should be posted after this time, however you may continue in the days following to wrap up these threads.

This event is entirely optional, however as this is the first event of the group to commemorate its opening, we recommend getting involved.

Please tag all event related posts with the Winter Festival with #StarOaksWinterFest and #starlight.event, and make sure you're following @starteroaks as we will be reblogging any open event starters over there.

[keelyharper]

Where: Downtown, Arts and Crafts Festival/Music Concert

When: Friday, May 3rd

Who: @diegoocastro

Keely was having a blast at the 65th Annual Kismet Harbor Wine Month. It was the only time of year where she didn't mind not going to work every day, and the only time where she drank more than she should, but hey, it only came around once a year and she was an adult. She had already been to all the vendors available that day and after going home to drop off the things she'd purchased, she headed back downtown to watch the local bands play and enjoy the crisp breeze and relax with her wine and food. She was already three glasses in when she wobbled to a local truck, ordered whatever sounded good, and went back to her spot on the grass. After she'd finished her meal, she got up and made her way to the dance area in front of the stage. Was she drunk? That was neither here nor there, she had enough wits about her to realize that for the past 20 minutes, she was being oogled and followed by a random dude in the crowd. He'd been following her since she left the crafts festival and while she figured it was coincidence at first, now she felt a sense of unease in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know what to do, she knew enough self defense to fight him off but she was also slightly inebriated which meant she wasn't at her best. She made like she didn't notice and walked up to the first person she saw. "Don't say anything and kiss me right now, I'm being followed and I need you to be my boyfriend."

[themissingmango]

Tag Games: People I’d like to get to know better

Thanks for the tag @sweetlittleladybug 💖💖

Last song: last night’s mascara - live from Short n’ Sweet Tour by griff

Favorite color: blueeee

Last book: I’m currently reading like 20+ books 😅 uhh I just did a re-read of All Systems Red by Martha Wells! Comfort series, that one.

Last movie: Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves

Last TV show: Leverage, also for comfort lol

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: all? I desire all of these at different times, so yeah, all of ‘em!

Relationship status: very happily partnered up, literally so lucky/grateful to have my gf in my life 🥰

Last thing I looked up: Pomegranate wine; I wanted to know if it existed and it turns out it does!

Current obsession: my obsessions don’t shift much really, list just expands sometimes (f1/racing, tg, marvel, batman, hp, aaron sorkin things, etc.)

Looking forward to: Christmas!! Making cookies, handmade presents for my loved ones, decorating, holiday music, festive themed art pieces, peppermint hot chocolate, annual yuuri on ice rewatch, and if I’m lucky—SNOW!!! ❄️

For those interested, a no pressure tag: @redfurrycat @wordsonamission @ltfirecracker @plincess-cho

[sulkysnape]

i wanted to share some of my writing that i worked on today. it’s not sev related, but it’s about my dnd character “Lyria”. idk if anyone will read this, but i’m a little proud of it :)

The celebration of House Thalor was a very grand event, thrown annually to commemorate the unwavering strength of House Thalor and all that they do for the people of Calidan. In the beginning, the celebrations were for the people of Calidan, but as the years passed and the wealth and success of the Thalor family grew, the event became something more—a spectacle of power. Lord and Lady Thalor failed to see the shifts in attitude amongst their people as the years passed on. To them, the celebrations were simply a tradition.

The streets of Calidan began to fill with people in the early hours of the morning. The smell of roasting meats and spiced wine fill the air as families walk through the streets and towards the park. Banners bearing the sigil of House Thalor—three gold pieces carried by an owl—hang from every corner of town, a reminder that Calidan’s prosperity was owed to the help and oversight of House Thalor. But beneath the guise of celebration, there was a quiet discontent. The common folk, though present in body, were distant in spirit. Most walk with forced smiles on their faces, but nonetheless they were happy to just have a day off. To not attend the celebration would be seen as an insult, but their hearts were heavy with the knowledge that while they struggled to feed their families, the nobles feasted. Despite the aggravation, the streets eventually came alive with music and laughter as the morning grew later. The park had been transformed into a spectacle, with maroon and gold tents lining the pathways in neat rows, offering a variety of foods and trinkets. A large band set up on a wooden stage near the middle of the celebration, began playing lively music for the people walking through.

For Lyria, the annual celebration had always been a strange blend of comfort and confusion. It was drilled into her from a young age that the celebration was not just a festivity, but a way to honor the role her family plays in ensuring the prosperity of Calidan. Her father often reminded her that it was their duty, their burden, and their honor to maintain that legacy. Lyria took pride in her family’s success. She knew that one day, all of this would be her responsibility—that she would be expected to continue the legacy.

There was no doubt that her father was a stern man. He showed his love not with words or affection, but through his expectations and standards. As his only heir, he held a firm belief that Lyria must be strong before she could be anything else. His daughter must grow to be resilient, capable, and focused, just as he was raised to be. His love was the kind that shaped and prepared, and Lyria had accepted long ago that his strictness was born out of care. He was not raising a daughter; he was raising an heir. Her mother, Lady Thalor, often matched her husband’s sternness, but from a different approach. Where her father emphasized strength, her mother taught her the art of perception and reading a room. Lyria had always admired her mother’s ability to silence a room with a single glance, but also command it with the softest of smiles.

As the band began to play another lively song, Lyria continued to follow behind her parents through the park, her eyes scanning the crowds of people. Lord Thalor moved through the crowd in a dignified manner, greeting the common folk with a practiced smile and nod. Lady Thalor floated beside her husband with watchful eyes and a warm smile as she greeted and welcomed everyone. For Lyria, these interactions were lessons in real time. She observed her parent’s tones and their strategic choice of words. She herself would give soft nods in response to greetings from the townspeople, trying her best to be as calm and dignified as her parents.

Amidst all of the activities, an older man began to approach the Thalor family. He moved slowly, with a stiff leg that dragged slightly with each step. He looked like he was a taller man, but time had slowly given him a hunched posture. At first glance, it was easy to see his frailness. But as he approached, Lyria’s eyes were drawn to the genuine smile that brightened his features. The moment that he smiled, it was as if all of the years had melted away. Lyria found herself instinctively returning the expression as he continued to approach. Her gaze turned to Rhysarin's movement as he stepped forward, always vigilant in his role as the family’s protector. Though he was never overtly imposing, Rhysarin’s presence always carried a quiet, lethal authority. The old man, noticing Rhysarin’s movement, gave him a friendly smile and a nod. Rhysarin smiled kindly in return, stepping backwards once more with a slight nod.

The old man approached Lord and Lady Thalor and offered a respectful bow before speaking with a cheerful tone.

“My Lord, My Lady,” he began, his voice rough but clear, “It is an honor.”

Lord Thalor gave a small nod in acknowledgement as he shook the old man’s hand. The man glanced briefly at Lyria, his gaze softening with recognition.

“And young Lady Lyria,” he continued to smile, “are you enjoying yourself?”

Lyria returned his smile as she nodded in response. She concentrated on the conversation between the three adults as she stood in silence. As the discussion continued, the man’s attention reverted back to Lyria before glancing between Lord and Lady Thalor.

“Might I introduce the young Lady to my grandson, Nyrion? Perhaps he could accompany young Lady Lyria for the afternoon?”

Lyria hesitantly looked at her mother and father, but before she could protest, the older man had hobbled himself to face the food booths.

“Boy!” he called out, his voice carrying across the crowd with surprising strength for such a frail man.

Lyria turned her gaze in the direction that the old man was calling. She watched as a boy, likely no older than she was, began to approach nervously. He was slightly taller than she was, with dark hair that looked like it had not been trimmed in months. The boy moved through the crowd with a hesitant look on his face. As he reached his grandfather, Nyrion’s eyes moved briefly to Lyria’s before quickly lowering. The old man placed a hand on his grandson’s shoulder as a proud smile spread across his face.

“This is my grandson, Nyrion,” the old man said affectionately, motioning for Nyrion to step forward with a light wave of his hand. “Don’t be afraid, boy. The Lady won’t bite.”

Nyrion hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking nervously between his grandfather and the Thalor family, but he stepped forward as instructed. His hands fidgeted at his sides as he approached Lyria. He offered her a quick, awkward bow, his dark hair falling over his face as he ducked his head. Lyria politely smiled before turning her gaze to her mother. Lady Thalor moved her eyes to her daughter as she gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Why don’t you introduce Lyria to the other children, Nyrion?” Lady Thalor smiled softly at the young boy.

Lyria nervously looked at her mother before stepping towards the strange boy. She fidgeted with her hands as the boy turned to make his way towards the grassy field in the distance.

Nyrion walked a few paces ahead of her, his posture tense and his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. As they neared the grassy field in the distance, Lyria watched as children of all ages chased each other in the nearby grass. Her heart raced as they approached, feeling a wave of discomfort wash over her. She has never succeeded in making friends with the other noble children, so why would it be any different with these common children?

The laughter continued as they walked across the field together towards the group of children. As they approached, a girl, who appeared a few years older than Lyria, stepped forward. She eyed Lyria curiously, her expression unreadable at first.

“Who’s this?” the girl asked, tilting her head slightly, her eyes flickering between Lyria and Nyrion.

Nyrion cleared his throat before stepping forward and speaking up.

“This is Lady Lyria,” he spoke, his voice a little louder than before. “She’s, um, here to play with us.”

The girl raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the introduction as she glanced at Lyria once more.

“Can the Lady keep up?” she smirked slightly as she looked down at the young noble girl. “I mean, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt or anything.”

Lyria held her tongue as she listened to the girl’s mocking tone. She inhaled deeply before speaking.

“I can keep up,” Lyria replied, her voice steady but soft.

The girl crossed her arms as she studied her for a moment. Lyria could feel the stares of the other children as they stood around the field. Finally, the girl’s smirk softened into a smile.

“Alright then,” she said, stepping back and gesturing to the others. “Let’s restart then.”

Lyria followed Nyrion further into the field. A few of the other children greeted her as she joined the others and some of them whispered amongst themselves. She listened as one of the older boys began to explain the rules of the game.

The game was like hide and seek, a game she often played with Rhysarin during her lessons to test her stealth and awareness. But here, the rules were slightly different. The boy explained that if you were found, you had the chance to run and hide once more. As the older boy explained the rules, Lyria felt a surge of confidence. She was good at these kinds of games. Maybe this was her chance to show them that she was not just a noble girl who couldn’t keep up.

As the children began to spread out across the field, Lyria glanced around at the landscape. Her eyes moved to a few trees in the distance as she began to think. She darted towards the trees, her movements light and quick. Once she reached the tree, Lyria began to quickly climb up into the tree’s lower branches, positioning herself in a way that allowed her to see the field while still remaining hidden.

From her hiding spot, Lyria watched the seeker wander throughout the field. The other children darted from one hiding spot to another, giggling quietly as they barely avoided being caught. Lyria stayed still as the seeker passed beneath her without noticing. She felt a sense of accomplishment wash over her for doing something that had nothing to do with her family’s status, even if it was just a game. For the first time in a long while, Lyria wasn’t trying to impress anyone. She was simply part of the group—a child playing a game, just like everyone else.

She watched the game unfold as more and more children were found by the seeker. Minutes passed by and finally the game was declared over. Lyria climbed down from the tree, her movements steady and precise. As she walked back towards the group, the girl who had teased her earlier spoke up from behind her.

“Nice spot,” her smirk had softened slightly.

Lyria smiled back, feeling a sense of pride. The rest of the children gathered back into a group as they began to chatter about starting the game again. Lyria took her place next to Nyrion again as she watched him stand with his hands in his pockets. She did not know why she chose to stand next to the boy who had spoken all but a few words to her, but at least it was someone she was slightly familiar with.

Her gaze wandered across the group of children towards the older kids. They stood in a group together, whispering quietly. Her eyes lingered on them for a few moments, their hushed conversation making her feel slightly anxious. She watched as one of the older boys stepped forward to volunteer to be the next seeker. Lyria glanced around the field to look for her next hiding spot. She was determined to find a spot just as clever as the last one. The seeker closed his eyes and began to count down loudly, giving everyone the signal to scatter.

Without a word, Lyria took off, darting across the field with swift movement. She immediately spotted a thick cluster of bushes a few feet away. It wasn’t high up like the tree hid in previously, but the foliage was thick enough for her to hide in. Lyria quickly crouched behind the bushes, tucking herself behind the leaves. She watched as few children hid behind a large boulder nearby, including the older girl who teased Lyria earlier.

The seeker’s voice echoed through the field, signaling that he was beginning his search. Lyria remained perfectly still, barely breathing as she focused on keeping herself hidden. She heard the quiet giggles from the nearby children as they hid. Lyria peered through the leaves, watching as the older girl hiding nearby peered around the boulder. The seeker stood a few yards away as he looked behind trees and bushes. Her heart raced, but she remained as still as she could. Her gaze returned to the older girl once more. She watched intently as the girl peered her face around the boulder, giving glances to the other older children hiding nearby. The girl seemed to be communicating silently with the other children, her eyes darting from one to the next. Lyria could tell from the start that the children were all comfortable with each and were most likely friends. It made her wonder if they were planning something.

The seeker moved closer, his footsteps now slow and careful. She could hear the rustling of leaves as the boy searched behind a nearby tee. Lyria kept her gaze on the girl nearby who was now closely watching the seeker. With a quick glance to her friends, the girl pursed her lips slightly. Her chest rose slowly before she began to softly whistle in the direction of the seeker. Lyria furrowed her eyebrows as the girl and the seeker locked eyes. She couldn’t understand why the girl would draw attention to herself. But then, she noticed the girl faintly nod her head in the direction of Lyria’s hiding spot.

Lyria’s heart sank as she remained perfectly still. The seeker’s eyes followed the girl’s subtle nod, his gaze now drifting toward the bushes where Lyria was hiding. The boy took a few steps towards the bushes, his attention seemingly fixed on her hiding spot. Lyria’s muscles tensed as her mind raced with confusion and panic. As the seeker approached, Lyria began to shuffle her feet, preparing to take off, but that was quickly interrupted when she felt the grasp of the older boy. She whipped her head around as the older boy began to drag her out from the bushes, still holding her in the air. Lyria kicked her feet as the boy began to carry her towards the middle of the field.

“This isn’t a part of the game!” She yelled as she struggled to break free.

The older boy, with a mischievous grin on his face, ignored her protests. His friends were now laughing, and a few of the younger children watched nervously, unsure of what to do. Lyria’s heart pounded, a mixture of anger and embarrassment rising in her chest. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go—she was supposed to be playing, just like everyone else.

“A little change in rules, M’Lady,” the boy teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he carried Lyria toward the center of the field.

Lyria’s protests were drowned out by the growing laughter of the older children, who seemed to take great pleasure in this moment. She had never been treated this way before, and her mind spun with thoughts of how to make it stop. As they moved further away from the other children, Lyria glanced around desperately. Some of the younger children seemed worried, but were unsure on what they should do. The older children laughed, but their intentions did not seem harmful. Her panic only grew as her gaze darted toward a pond that was just beyond the edge of the field.

Meanwhile, Nyrion had made his way back to the main area of the celebration. After the last game, he noticed the older children whispering and smirking amongst themselves. He had spent enough time with them to understand that usually means they are up to something. He walked away when he heard the older boys whispering about going to the pond. Nyrion did not like swimming, and just the thought of that cold water made him shiver. He figured Lyria would be fine, so he had quietly excused himself and returned to the celebration.

As he approached his grandfather, who was still talking to Lord and Lady Thalor, he fidgeted with his sleeves as he sipped from a cup of water.

“Where is the young Lady?” His grandfather asked cheerfully, glancing around for Lyria.

“She’s swimming,” Nyrion replied casually. “I didn’t want to, so I came back.”

At that moment, Lady Thalor’s smile froze. Her eyes immediately darted to Lord Thalor, who tensed beside her. Her calm composure is shattered in an instant, her already pale face turning even paler. Lord Thalor remained calm on the outside, though his body tensed visibly. He forced himself to breathe slowly, calculating, as he always did. But inside him, fear gripped around his heart—his only heir, his daughter, was in danger.

“Swimming?” Lord Thalor’s voice was dangerously quiet.

His piercing gaze locked onto Nyrion as his mind raced. Swimming? Lord Thalor spent the last eight years of his daughter’s life putting her through rigorous training—teaching her the ways of nobility and even combat. But swimming? That was never part of her lessons—it never even crossed his mind. Now, that oversight weighed on him heavily. The future of House Thalor was now threatened, and he knew it. He could feel Lady Thalor’s fingers digging into his arm as her breathing quickened.

“She can’t swim,” Lady Thalor whispered, her voice shaking. The words escaped her lips almost like a breathless prayer, as though speaking them might somehow make the Twin Angels undo the reality. “Our daughter–”

Lord Thalor’s jaw tightened as he processed the gravity of the situation. He could not afford to lose control, not in front of so many people. The celebration was still in full swing around them, the music and laughter creating an eerie backdrop to his climbing dread. He turned his gaze toward Rhysarin without saying a word. The look was enough.

Rhysarin was already moving, his gaze sharpened as he locked onto the direction of the field nearby. Without hesitation, he sprinted, his long strides cutting through the crowd with alarming speed. He was not just the family’s protector, but Lyria’s mentor, the man who had watched and trained her since birth. He knew of all of her skills and the things that she lacked at, and he understood—perhaps better than anyone—that Lyria had never learned to swim. The moment the word “pond” had been spoken, Rhysarin knew that the day would be shifted drastically.

Back at the pond, Lyria’s panic grew with each second. The older boy holding her seemed to have no malicious intent, in fact, this seemed like a game to him. But the way that he casually carried her toward the water made her feel small and powerless. She kicked harder, trying to free herself from the boy’s grip.

“Please, let me down!” Her voice cracked, but the children just laughed.

“It’s just a little swim, M’Lady,” He teased, clearly not understanding the seriousness of the situation.

The boy tightened his grip as his friends egged him on, laughing louder as they approached the edge of the pond. Lyria’s eyes darted to the pond, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. She was not afraid of much—her father, well… Rhysarin taught her to be brave. But this… this was different. The other children stood back, some giggling nervously, others looking uncomfortable. The older boy glanced at his friends, seeking approval as they all nodded. Lyria’s eyes widened as the boy began to swing his arms.

“Please! I can’t–”

Before she could finish her plea, the boy swung her body and let go. The cold enveloped her immediately as her entire body dipped under the water. The pond’s surface rippled and then stilled, and for a brief moment, there was nothing but silence.

Underwater, Lyria’s world was chaos. The cold shocked her system first, paralyzing her for a second as her lungs screamed for air. She instinctively began to kick under the water, flailing her arms and legs, but it only sent her deeper into the murky water. Her robes weighed her down, the heaviness of the fabric making her sink quicker. The darkness swallowed her and she thrashed under the water. Panic began to take hold. She tried to scream, but the water filled her throat instead, choking her as she now struggled harder. Her lungs began to burn and her chest tightened as she felt her limbs grow heavier and heavier. The could feel herself losing the fight as her eyes slowly fluttered shut.

Rhysarin’s gaze locked onto the group of children standing in the nearby field. The children stood together, their laughter now nonexistent as they stared into the murky water. Rhysarin’s feet moved on their own as he pushed through the children, who quickly scattered in terror. He didn’t hesitate for a moment. Without a word, he shed his cloak and leapt into the pond.

The water was dark and thick with grainy sand, making it nearly impossible to see. His mind raced as he pushed deeper through the murky water, looking for any sign of the young girl. His lungs screamed for air, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop until he found her.

His hand brushed against something soft as he opened his eyes and squinted firmly. He could barely make out what was in front of him, but the floating strands of white hair confirmed it. His hand closed around her arm as he began to swim with all of the strength that he could muster. He pulled her lifeless form through the murky water as his lungs burned with every second. His eyes stung from the pond’s grime, but he continued to hold onto her as he dragged toward the shore. As soon as his feet touched the edge of the pond, he wasted no time pulling Lyria onto the bank. Her body slumped onto the grass, her skin pale and her lips blue.

Lord and Lady Thalor stood a few feet away. Lord Thalor remained composed as he held his now weeping wife in his arms. Lady Thalor’s hands clutched her husband’s arm, trembling as she stared at her daughter’s still form. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

Rhysarin knelt beside Lyria, his hands already moving with steady urgency as he sprung into action. As much as he tried to remain calm, his hands still trembled slightly as he moved. He had saved lives in the past, but never had the stakes been so personal. Without hesitation, he tilted her head back as he moved his hand to the side of her neck. He felt a pulse, but it was faint. He positioned his palms against her chest and began the chest compressions. His entire body moved with the effort, his arms locked as he counted each push.

“Come on, Lyria,” he muttered under his breath.

Her body rose and fell under his hands with each push as he remained determined to fix this, his muscles aching from the effort. Time seemed to stand still as the crowd around them watched in silence. The only sound to be heard was the quiet sobs from Lady Thalor in the background, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she clung to her husband. Lord Thalor’s face remained stoic, but Rhysarin could see the way that his hands trembled.

After what felt like an eternity, a faint gurgling sound escaped Lyria’s throat as she lurched forward. She coughed violently, her body convulsing as the pond water spewed from her mouth. Her chest heaved as she cried and gasped for air. Rhysarin exhaled shakily as he held Lyria’s shaking frame.

Lady Thalor finally let go of her husband’s arms as she rushed to kneel beside her daughter. Her hands shook as she cupped Lyria’s face in her hands, her eyes filled with tears. Her hands trembled as she ran her fingers through Lyria’s hair, as if to reassure herself hat her daughter was truly alive.

“My girl…My sweet girl,” She whimpered as she held her daughters trembling body to her chest.

The crowd around them began to murmur softly, the noise of the celebration now dying down. Lord Thalor remained composed, though the tightness in his jaw and the way he clenched his fist would say otherwise. He stood over his wife and daughter with his eyes fixed on Lyria’s trembling form. Rhysarin remained kneeling beside them, silent and tense with the aftershock of what just happened. His eyes stayed on Lyria—he had saved her, but only just.

“We are leaving,” Lord Thalor finally spoke, his voice low but firm. He glanced at Rhysarin, a silent command passing between the two of them.

Rhysarin nodded without a word, rising to his feet. He watched as Lady Thalor cradled her daughter in her arms and began to make her way back towards the carriages.

Back at the Thalor Hold, the air was filled with tenseness as servants moved quietly, setting things in order for the young Lady. Lyria had been immediately taken to her chambers, where a warm bath was drawn for her. She sat in the bath, her body slowly warning as the heat spread through her bones. Her mother sat nearby, her eyes never leaving Lyria’s face as she clung to a damp cloth nervously.

When the bath was done, Lady Thalor helped Lyria into bed, tucking the blankets around her with a tenderness that contrasted strongly with her usual stern demeanor. It was not often that Lyria’s mother put her to bed. Most of the time it was one of her retainers, but tonight was different. Tonight, her mother hovered beside her, smoothing Lyria’s hair back from her damp forehead until she drifted off into sleep.

Meanwhile, Rhysarin stood alone in the hallway outside of Lord Thalor’s study, his mind racing. He replayed the events of the day over and over, and each time, he questioned why he did not have anyone go with Lady Lyria. He was Lyria’s protector, sworn to keep her safe, and yet she nearly died. It did not matter that he had saved her in the end—he should have never let it get that far.

He drew in a deep breath and knocked on the wooden door.

“Enter,” came Lord Thalor’s voice on the other side.

Rhysarin stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Lord Thalor sat at his desk, surrounded by papers, though his attention was entirely on Rhysarin. Rhysarin hesitated for a moment, his heart heavy with the decision he had already made. He stepped forward, bowing deeply before speaking.

“My Lord, I have come to give my resignation.”

His words hung in the hair as Lord Thalor’s expression hardened instantly, but Rhysarin pressed on, determined to say what he needed to.

“I failed today,” he continued, his fists clenched tightly. “Lady Lyria is my responsibility to protect. I should have known. I should sent someone—”

“Enough,” Lord Thalor’s voice cut through the room.

He rose from his chair slowly, his eyes never leaving Rhysarin. Rhysarin stood tall, his gaze fixed on the floor as Lord Thalor walked around the desk.

“Do you truly believe that resigning pardons you from this burden?”

Rhysarin’s breath caught in his throat, but he forced himself to stand taller.

“I am not looking to be pardoned, my Lord. I swore an oath to protect your family, and I failed.”

Lord Thalor raised a hand, silencing him again.

“Danger is inevitable, especially for someone like my daughter,” he continued to pace back and forth. “Do you know what it means to fail, Rhysarin? Truly fail? Failure would have been burying my daughter today. Failure would have been her breath never returning. But she is alive, thanks to you." He paused, his voice lowering, more measured but still resolute. "You saved her life."

There was a long pause, the room filled only with the sound of Rhysarin’s breathing.

“Come with me,” Lord Thalor commanded, already turning toward the door.

Rhysarin hesitated for a moment, but then followed without question. They moved through the halls, the only sound was their boots hitting the stone floor. Eventually, they reached Lyria’a chambers. Lord Thalor opened the door softly, gesturing for Rhysarin to enter.

The room was dark, the only light coming from a few candles around the room. Lyria was asleep, her chest rising and falling gently under the warmth of the heavy blankets. Lady Thalor sat by her side, watching her sleep peacefully.

Rhysarin followed Lord Thalor as they approached the side of Lyria’s bed, his eyes on Lyria’s peaceful face. His eyebrows furrowed as Lord Thalor gently placed Rhysarin’s hand on Lyria’s forehead. Her skin was warm, a stark contrast to the icy coldness from the pond earlier that day.

“Rhysarin,” Lord Thalor spoke quietly. “She is warm. She is safe. That is your doing.”

Rhysarin kept his gaze on the young child. He had expected to feel the same crushing guilt that weighed on him all evening, but instead, there was relief.

“You fulfilled your duty,” Lord Thalor continued to whisper quietly. “You protected my daughter, and I will not hear any more of this resignation. I forbid it.”

Rhysarin bowed his head, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. He had been prepared to walk away, but here, in the quiet of Lyria’s chambers, with her warm and safe, he understood the weight of Lord Thalor’s words. Lord Thalor placed a firm hand on his shoulder, a silent acknowledgement of his loyalty. He stood, nodding once to Rhysarin before placing a kiss on the top of his wife’s head.

Rhysarin stood slowly, bowing towards Lord and Lady Thalor before quietly leaving the room. As he walked back through the dimly lit halls, the weight on his chest felt lighter.

Tonight, the Thalor family was whole and that was enough.

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 1.31

Holidays

Africa Day of Peace & Reconciliation

Apollo 14 Day

Appreciate Your Social Security Check Day

Backwards Day

Bob Ferguson Day

Brexit Day (UK)

Child Labor Day

Dicing for Maid's Money Day (Surrey, UK)

Eve of Brigantia (Ireland)

Explorer I Day

Final Fantasy VIII Day (Japan)

Feast of Great Typos

Green Hornet Day

Hell Is Freezing Over Day

Hug an Economist Day

Inspire Your Heart With Art Day

International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Men & Boys

International Day of the Magicians

International Omphalocele Awareness Day

International Street Children’s Day

Jackie Robinson Day

Me-Dam-Me-Phi (Assam, India)

National Appreciation Day for Catholic Schools

National Bug Busting Day (UK)

National Gorilla Suit Day (Don Martin, in Mad Magazine)

National Music Therapy Day (Mexico)

National Pick on Lindsay Day

National Punk Day

Pal-O-Ween (from “Kevin Can F**k Himself”) [Every 31st]

Phlegm - Green, Moldy - Gray, and Gazzard* Day (Goblins; Shamanism) [*Gazzard. A color unknown in the human world and one which, quite honestly, you wouldn't want to know]

Play An Old Game You Haven't Played In Years Night

Saint Brigid’s Eve (Ireland)

Scotch Tape Day

Street Children's Day (Austria)

St. Veronus' Day (patron saint of Lembeek & Belgian brewers)

Thermos Bottle Day

Train Hijacking Day

Twist Off Cap Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Brandy Alexander Day

Day of Russian Vodka

Eat Brussels Sprouts Day

National Hot Chocolate Day

World Vegan Chocolate Day

Nature Celebrations

Broccoli Day (French Republic)

International Zebra Day

Rabbit Rabbit Day [Last Day of Every Month]

Spring Crocus (Joy of Youth; Korean Birth Flowers)

Independence, Flag & Related Days

Ladoland (Declared; 2016) [unrecognized]

Nauru (from Australia, 1968)

Varladia (Declared; 2022) [unrecognized]

New Year’s Days

Año Nuevo en Tupiza (Tupiza New Year; Indigenous Bolivia)

Chinese New Year; Day 3 (Sin Jyu Yat; China, Malaysia)

Tet Holiday (Vietnam)

Third Day of the Lunar New Year (Hong Kong, Macau)

5th & Last Friday in January

Big Garden Birdwatch begins (UK) [Last Friday thru Sunday]

Comfort Food Friday [Every Friday]

Earned Income Tax Credit Awareness Day [Last Friday]

EITC Awareness Day [Last Friday]

Finally Friday [Last Friday of Each Month]

Five For Friday [Every Friday]

Flashback Friday [Every Friday]

Flatbread Friday [Last Friday of Each Month]

Friday Finds [Every Friday]

Fry Day (Pastafarian; Fritism) [Every Friday]

Great Mental Health Day (London) [Last Friday]

International Fun at Work [Last Friday]

National Big Wig Day [Last Friday]

National Have Fun at Work Day (a.k.a. Fun At Work Day) [Last Friday]

National Preschool Fitness Day [Last Friday]

RNLI SOS Day (UK) [Last Friday]

Stout & Chowder Festival (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania) [Last Friday]

TGIF (Thank God It's Friday) [Every Friday]

Weekly Holidays beginning January 31 (Last Week of January)

None Known

Festivals Beginning January 31, 2025

Carnival of Santa Cruz de Tenerife (Tenerife, Spain) [thru 3.9]

Englewood Seafood & Music Festival (Englewood, Florida) [thru 2.2]

Fajr International Film Festival (Tehran, Iran) [thru 2.4]

Gourd Festival (Casa Grande, Arizona) [thru 2.2]

Gulf Coast Watermelon Association Annual Convention (Biloxi, Mississippi) [thru 2.1]

Mar-Del Watermelon Convention (Cambridge, Maryland) [thru 2.2]

Meltdown Winter Ice Festival (Richmond, Indiana) [thru 2.1]

Nebraska Sustainable Agriculture Society Conference (Nebraska City, Nebraska) [thru 2.1]

SIKKA Art Fair (Dubai, UAE) [thru 2.9]

Six Nations Rugby Championship (thru 3.15)

Triangle Wine & Food Experience (Raleigh, North Carolina) [thru 2.1]

Waterfront Fine Art & Wine Festival (Scottsdale, Arizona) [thru 2.2]

Winterlude [Bal de Neige] (Gatineau, Canada) [thru 2.17]

Feast Days

Adamnan of Coldingham (Christian; Saint)

Amartithi (Meher Baba Remembrance Day; India)

Anacreon (Positivist; Saint)

Banyu Pinaruh (Water Purification Ceremony; Bali)

Celebration of the Triple Goddess (Goddess of the Moon and the Seasons; Old European Lunar New Year) [Thru 2.3]

Cyrus and John (Christian; Martyrs)

Day of Hecate (Goddess of Crossroads; Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Dicing for Maid’s Money (Guildford, UK)

Disablot (Norse celebration of new beginnings)

Disfest (Sacrifice Honoring the Disir, all female relatives from forever)

Domitius (Domice) of Amiens (Christian; Saint)

Eusebius (Christian; Martyr)

Feast of Isis (Ancient Egypt)

Feast of Sarasvati (Ancient Indian Goddess of Education; Nepal; Everyday Wicca)

Festival of Transmission Errors

Festival to Kuan Yin (Goddess of Compassion (Buddhism; China)

Francis Xavier Bianchi (Christian; Saint)

Geminianus (Christian; Saint)

Honey Badger Avoidance Day (Pastafarian)

Imbolc Eve (Celtic Book of Days)

Imbolc Eve: Day of the Bean Sidhe (Pagan)

John Bosco (Christian; Saint)

Julius of Novara (Christian; Saint)

Ludovica (Christian; Blessed)

Máedóc of Ferns (a.k.a. Maidoc, Mogue, Aidan, Aiden; Christian; Saint)

Marcella (Christian; Saint)

Mary the Gorilla (Muppetism)

Max Pechstein (Artology)

Me-Dam-Me-Phi (Ahom Veneration of the Dead; Assam, India)

Narcissus Flower Festival (Ancient Hawai’i)

Navajo Sing (Preparation Festival for Coming Agricultural Season) [Through 2.8]

Nicetas of Novgorod (Christian; Saint)

Norman Mailer (Writerism)

Peter or Pedro Nolasco (Christian; Saint)

Rodolphe Töpffer (Artology)

Samuel Shoemaker (Episcopal Church (USA))

Seapion (Christian; Saint)

Theodore Kaczinski Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Tysul (Christian; Saint)

Ulphia (Christian; Virgin)

Valkyries’ Day (Norse)

Veronus  (Christian; Saint) [Lembeek & Belgian brewers]

Wilgils (Christian; Saint)

Lunar Calendar Holidays

Chinese: Month 1 (Wu-Yin), Day 3 (Geng-Zi)

Day Pillar: Metal Rat

12-Day Officers/12 Gods: Close Day (閉 Bi) [Inauspicious]

Holidays: Spring Festival Golden Week

Secular Saints Days

Ernie Banks (Sports)

Carol Channing (Entertainment)

Minnie Driver (Entertainment)

Philip Glass (Music)

Zane Grey (Literature)

Don Hutson (Sports)

Ben Jonson (Literature)

Terry Kath (Music)

Richard Henry Lee (Politics)

Laura Lippman (Literature)

Alan Lomax (Music)

Norman Mailer (Literature)

Gerald McDermott (Art)

Grant Morrison (Literature)

Charlie Musselwhite (Music)

Kenzaburō Ōe (Literature)

John O’Hara (Literature)

Betty Parsons (Art)

Suzanne Pleshette (Entertainment)

Jackie Robinson (Music)

Nolan Ryan (Music)

Franz Schubert (Music)

Rodolphe Töpffer (Art)

Jessica Walter (Entertainment)

Ken Wilber (Philosophy)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Prime Number Day: 31 [11 of 72]

Sakimake (先負 Japan) [Bad luck in the morning, good luck in the afternoon.]

Premieres

Ali Baba (ComicColor Cartoon; 1936)

All My Children (TV Soap Opera; 1949)

Aloha Hooey (WB MM Cartoon; 1942)

Along Came Fido (Hot Dog Bray Cartoon; 1927)

The Animal Fair (Aesop’s Sound Fable Cartoon; 1931)

The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman (TV Film; 1974)

Barney’s Hungry Cousin, featuring Barney Bear (MGM Cartoon; 1953)

The Bear and the Bean, featuring Barney Bear (MGM Cartoon; 1948)

Being and Time, by Martin Heidegger (Philosophy Book; 1927)

Bellerophon, by Jean-Baptiste Lully (Opera; 1679)

Betty Boop and the Little King (Betty Boop Cartoon; 1936)

Black Sunday, by Thomas Harris (Novel; 1975)

Cheerful Little Pierful or Bomb Voyage (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S1, Ep. 19; 1960)

Down and Out in Beverly Hills (Film; 1986)

Family Guy (Animated TV Series; 1999)

Gia (Film; 1998)

The Green Hornet (Radio Series; 1936)

Judge’s Crossword Puzzles #1 (Pioneer Films Cartoon; 1925)

The June Bride (Aesop’s Film Fable Cartoon; 1926)

Key & Peele (TV Series; 2012)

The Lone Ranger (Radio Series; 1933)

McDougal’s Rest Farm (Terrytoons Heckle & Heckle Cartoon; 1947)

A Mouse Divided (WB MM Cartoon; 19353

Mr. & Mrs. Smith (Film; 1941)

Mr. Nobody Holme, He Buys a Jitney (Heart-Vitagraph News Pictorial Cartoon; 1916)

Murphy’s Romance (Film; 1986)

Mystery Girl, by Roy Orbison (Album; 1989)

Never Again (Gaumont Cartoon Comics Cartoon; 1917)

The Owl and the Pussycat (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1939)

Pagan Moon (WB MM Cartoon; 1932)

A Perfect Day for Bananafish, by J.D. Salinger (Short Story; 1948)

Ragnarok (TV Series; 2020)

Rough and Tumbleweed (Inspector Willoughby Cartoon; 1961)

The Saint on the Spanish Main, by Leslie Charteris (Short Stories 1955) [Saint #31]

Sara Smile, by Hall & Oates (Song; 1976)

Sharps and Flats (Krazy Kat Cartoon; 1927)

The Soup Song, featuring Flip the Frog (Ub Iwerks MGM Cartoon; 1931)

The Spiderwick Chronicles (Film; 2008)

Station to Station, by David Bowie (Album; 1976)

Summer Squash or He’s Too Flat for Me (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S1, Ep. 20; 1960)

Sydney Bulletin (Weekly Magazine; Australia; 1880)

Teddy, by J.D. Salinger (Short Story; 1953)

These Are My Children (TV Soap Opera; 1949) [1st TV Soap Opera]

Thoughts In Solitude, by Thomas Merton (Spiritual Book; 1956)

The Village Smitty, featuring Flip the Frog (Ub Iwerks MGM Cartoon; 1931)

Who’s Who in the Zoo (WB LT Cartoon; 1942)

The Witness for the Prosecution, by Agatha Christie (Short Story; 1948)

The Wonder Years (TV Series; 1988)

Today’s Name Days

Johannes, Marcella (Austria)

Ivan, Julije, Vanja (Croatia)

Marika (Czech Republic)

Vigilius (Denmark)

Meeland, Meelik, Meelis, Meelit, Meelitu, Meelo, Meelu (Estonia)

Alli (Finland)

Marcelle (France)

Johannes, Marcella, Rudbert (Germany)

Evdoxia, Kyros (Greece)

Gerda, Marcella (Hungary)

Geminiano, Giovanni (Italy)

Dekla, Jalna, Tekla, Tikla, Violeta (Latvia)

Astra, Budvilė, Marcelė, Skirmantas (Lithuania)

Idun, Ivar (Norway)

Cyrus, Euzebiusz, Jan, Ksawery, Ludwik, Marceli, Marcelin, Marcelina, Piotr, Spycigniew, Wirgiliusz (Poland)

Chir, Ioan (Romania)

Ksenia (Russia)

Emil (Slovakia)

Juan, Marcela (Spain)

Ivar, Joar (Sweden)

Cyrus, Kira, Kyra, Lona, Loni, Lonnie, Scarlett, Zane (USA)

Today’s National Name Days

National Seth Day

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 31 of 2025; 334 days remaining in the year

ISO Week: Day 5 of Week 5 of 2025

Celtic Tree Calendar: Luis (Rowan) [Day 11 of 28]

Chinese: Month 1 (Wu-Yin), Day 3 (Geng-Zi)

Chinese Year of the: Snake 4723 (until February 17, 2026) [Ding-Chou]

Coptic: 23 Tubah 1741

Druid Tree Calendar: Cypress (Jan 25-Feb 3) [Day 7 of 10]

Hebrew: 2 Shevat 5785

Islamic: 1 Sha’ban 1446

Julian: 18 January 2025

Moon: 6%: Waxing Crescent

Positivist: 3 Homer (2nd Month) [Anacreon)

Runic Half Month: Elhaz (Elk) [Day 10 of 15]

Season: Winter (Day 42 of 90)

Sun Calendar: 1 Gray; Oneday [1 of 30]

Week: 4th & Last Week of January

Zodiac:

Tropical (Typical) Zodiac: Aquarius (Day 12 of 30)

Sidereal Zodiac: Capricorn (Day 17 of 29)

Schmidt Zodiac: Capricorn (Day 6 of 27)

IAU Boundaries (Current) Zodiac: Capricorn (Day 12 of 28)

IAU Boundaries (1977) Zodiac: Capricornus (Day 13 of 28)

Calendar Changes

Gray (Month 2 of 12; Sun Calendar)

Shaʿbān [شَعْبَان] (Islamic Calendar) [Month 8 of 12] (Scattered)

[renaldiroyals]

THE DUKE AND DUCHESS OF ABINGDON OFFICIALLY OPEN MONTREUX FOOD AND WINE FESTIVAL

Montreux Food & Wine Festival is an annual event which celebrates the diverse culinary culture of Montreux as well as the whole of Sandor and it's surrounding islands. Princess Léa is the current patron of Montreux Food & Wine Festival taking over from Princess Clarisse five years ago.

The royal couple began their engagement downtown with a private visit to the Culinary Arts Academy; enjoying a private tasting from this year's graduating class.

The couple is believed to have sponsored up to 10 scholarships for young aspiring chefs from disadvantaged backgrounds as well as a large donation towards the renovation of the pastry kitchen and an extension of the building .

In addition to being the patron of the Montreux Food & Wine Festival, Princess Léa is also the co-Patron alongside the Duke of Abingdon of the ‘Hunger Project– World Food Summit’ which will take place later on this year in Leesburg.

In the meantime, the couple is expected to spend the rest of the summer in Sandor before returning back to their home in the fall.

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[mobscene-london]

CAMDEN'S ANNUAL ITALIAN STREET FESTIVAL:

Location: The Borough of Camden. Hosts: The British-Italian community of London. Date: 19th of July - 21st of July. Dress Code: None.

EVENT SUMMARY:

It's once again time for Camden's annual celebration of Italian pride! Whether you hail from the homeland or not, all are welcome to come and enjoy a weekend celebrating one of Europe's richest and most beautiful cultures. There will be distinct representation from Sicilia, Lazio, Calabria, Abruzzo, Veneto, and of course, thanks to London's thriving Neapolitan community, Campania, all showing off the best their region has to offer. The well loved and long established festival brings together people from all over the city to enjoy good food, even better company, and endless entertainment. The canals will be lined with tables for people to dine at; catered to by the authentic street vendors and fresh food stalls boasting the best Italian cuisine outside of the country itself. The market will be transformed to offer art, clothing, wine, and much more, created either by the community itself, or imported directly from Italy. When evening starts to fall, though? Grab your sambuca shots, wait for the music to fill the air, and watch as the real party begins. Primrose Hill will play host to a mini music festival all of its own on all three days, with a spotlight on both upcoming and established British-Italian musicians throughout the day and well into the night. Rumours say there might even be some guest appearances from Italian artists, too. And yes, there will be pop up bars and grab-and-go Neapolitan pizza ready for you. We're not forgetting this is still London and you're all messy af...

MAIN POINTS OF INTEREST:

Cheese & Wine Tasting (Friday afternoon) - What better way to get things started than sampling Italy's two most beloved exports? Offering a spectacular selection of Sicilian wines (thanks @ Mount Etna for your service), a laid-back wine tasting event will take place for anyone (old enough, you little shits) to enjoy. You'll also get to vote which region has the best cheese. Fight to the death, tbh.

Dinner & Dance (Friday night) - Once you're all sufficiently drunk on Sicily's offerings, the traditional live bands will start to play canal-side. Laze beside the water with your dinner, enjoy the warm weather, and be transported to the streets of Italy as you eat your bodyweight in pasta.

Pizza Making (Saturday afternoon) - If you're not too hungover from necking sambuca shots at the festival in the park, or from finishing that bottle of wine you probably shouldn't have, try your hand at making authentic Neapolitan pizza with some of the best chef's Camden's Italian scene has to offer. What do you win? Pride, bitch. That's all you need. You're Italian.

A Taste of the Opera (Saturday evening) - Fancy a spectacular rendition of Rigoletto? Probably not, you cultureless heathens, but the offer is there... Enjoy Verdi's masterpiece in the local community theatre, courtesy of the local youth operatic society. Support the local arts, bro.

Mini Venetian-Style Carnival (Sunday afternoon) - Yes, of course it's after Mass, don't worry... Head back down to the canal once more to watch London's best attempt at capturing the beauty and artistry of the Venetian Carnival. You'll also have a chance to make your own Venetian-style masks with the help of local artists. The creepier looking the better, apparently.

Drunk Shenanigans (All nights) - Because there's alcohol available from the vendors, and you've got an excuse to party in the streets? Go wild, bro.