#future forest festival

[bey0utifulsoul]

[environmentindia]

BioFest- Indian festivals and Biodiversity Part I

Biodiversity and Indian culture both of them share a common thing i.e., their vulnerability to changing world, both of them need to be conserve in their field, while the biodiversity of the planet has a great international importance, the latter has a great importance for Indians and people indulge in cultural studies.

Both Indian culture and biodiversity need conservation to an extent as both are being affected by modernization and greed-based development. Biodiversity conservation is one of the hottest topics running around the globe, and to protect biodiversity many conventions and laws are enacted on several occasions, but the real protection of the biodiversity is in the hands of society and if the society is aware or has some emotions to protect it then the conservation can become successful. Similarly, the fast-progressing time has somehow made the current and the elder generation oblivion of their regional cultures and therefore a need has arrived to develop Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH) site to educate the generations their own history and culture. Currently India has 14 ICH (UNESCO).

Indian festivals are mirrors of Indian philosophy and culture, they show how our ancestral values are deep rooted with nature. Worshipping nature is an unseparated part of Indian Culture. Beside their relation to society and rituals, there are many festivals in Indian culture which have good scientific explanation and logic to follow them, also if we remove the pseudo-science from them there are many rituals and festivals left to be followed logically for the betterment of society and nature. Taking help of festivals and cultures to protect biodiversity can be beneficial as they are deep rooted in society, and people also has some emotional attachment to them. Some festivals and rituals directly or indirectly promote biodiversity and nature conservation, so by promoting and putting some green changes in them, can make our most of the conservation programmes successful. To denote such festivals some people call them BioFest i.e., those festivals which celebrate nature and its elements, like particular plants and animals. The following chapter is focused on those BioFests which celebrates non-agricultural plants and animals.

BioFests of India

The relation of Indian festivals and biodiversity conservation can be viewed by two ways or we can categorise our Indian festivals/rituals in two types of BioFests. The first category includes direct biodiversity conservation as an integral part of the festival or rituals which can also be called as Major BioFest, and the second category include indirect biodiversity conservation due to the ritual or festivals' process which can also be called as Minor BioFest.

Major BioFest or Festival/Ritual for Biodiversity

India has a large number of festivals for different occasions sometimes they are to appease some deity, sometimes to celebrate a historical moment or sometimes to celebrate the patterns of nature. In the long list of these Indian festivals there are some festivals which are completely devoted to nature and its elements. The first category of Indian BioFests includes those completely nature devoted festivals and rituals. In the first category we can include those festival which are directly linked to nature and its elements. It includes worshipping those plants and animals which are sacred and the whole festival or ritual won't be completed without their presence which in itself made it compulsory for the society or at least to people of the faith to conserve them for future. It can also be possible that the ancient Indian philosophers had knowingly inserted these festivals to protect those particular species by seeing their vulnerability to extinction, and it can be confirmed by seeing the various Maharishis' work related to those species which were not directly related to human economy and society specially plants for example Maharishi Parashara's Vrksha Ayurveda. Also, the Brhat Parashar Smrti (10.379) admonishes in this context: He who plants and nurtures the following trees will never see hell: one each of the holy fig (pipal), margosa (neem) and banyan (bargad), ten tamarind trees and three each of wood apple, the holy bel, myrobalan and five mango trees. The list of first category of Indian BioFest includes many festivals and rituals, following is the list of some most known of them: -

Phool Dei in Uttarakhand: - Festival of flowers where, children give flowers to people.

Aavla Ekadashi Vratam: - Celebration Day for Aavala tree (Indian gooseberry)

Ashoka Pratipada: - Celebration Day for Ashoka tree (Saraca asoca)

Maa Shitalaa Puja in North India: - Celebration Day for Goddess Shitalaa and Neem tree (Azadirachta indica)

Sarhul in Jharkhand: - Sarhul festival is celebrated when Saal trees get new leaves and flowers. They do not start eating any fruit, flower or paddy in this season

Puli Kali in Kerala: - Pulikkali is a recreational folk art performed during Onam

Naag Panchami: - Celebration Day for snakes either through idol or live snakes

Waghbaras in Maharashtra: - Carnivalesque gathering that goes on through the night to pray and appease the benevolent spirit of Waghdev (leopards and tigers).

Tihar during Deepawali festive: - Festival celebrated in Himalayan states for five days with worshipping crows, dogs, cows, and bulls

Chelina Jatre in Karnataka: - Festival of worshipping scorpions

Vat Purnima: - Celebration Day for Vat tree (Ficus benghalensis)

Mithun Sankranti: - Celebration Day for mother earth

Shat-tila Ekadashi: - Celebration Day for Sesame

Vasant Panchami: - Celebration Day for Spring arrival

Bail Pola in Central India: - Celebration Day for Ox

Bishnoi Sthapana Divash: - Celebrated as establishment day of Bishnoi Community of Rajasthan with spreading awareness regarding the 29 principles of love and compassion of the sect.

Bathukamma in Telangana: - Festival of flowers, where flowers are offered to ponds.

The festival of Phool Dei is celebrated in the Garhwal and Kumaun regions of Uttarakhand every year in the flowering season (March-April) for about a month. Children go into farms, forests and gardens and collect fresh flowers to offer to the local deities and then to the doorsteps of each home as a welcome gesture for the onset of spring season. The local belief is that placing flowers at the doorsteps of houses for the gods will bring prosperity and blessings. The groups of children, known as Phoolyari, bring flowers daily to the households and receive money and sweets in return from each family on the last day of spring. The celebration of Phool Dei indirectly rooted a sense of affection and protection towards nature, especially local flowers and trees, in people, especially children minds.

The Waghbaras festival has special importance for Indian biodiversity conservation programme regarding its relation to one of the keystone species of India, the Leopards. Waghbaras or Vaagh Baras is celebrated in Gujarat and Maharashtra a day before Dhanteras. It is an important day when cattle and calves are worshipped and fed with wheat products. The Waghbaras is the special day for the Warli tribe of Maharashtra. Rituals and offerings are a crucial part of Waghoba (Leopard and tigers) worship, which materialises during the annual Waghbaras festival. The Warlis and people of other tribes worship the Waghoba for protection from diseases, calamities and big cats (they believe that the wagh or leopard is the “king of the jungle”, and it would protect them when they roam forests).

Similarly, Naaga Panchami, the popular Hindu festival, falls on the fifth day of the bright half of Shravan month of Indian calendar (on August 4 this year). People worship the snake or Naag on this day. But the people of Kandakoor village, about 20 kms from Yadgir, Karnataka worship the idol of a scorpion and play with scorpions too by the name of Chelina Jatre. Worshipping scorpions or an idol of a scorpion is very uncommon in the state. On the festive day people trek up the hill, singing folk songs. They then gather and worship Kondammai and a statue of a snake. After this begins the bizarre ritual of hunting for scorpions. the villagers and devotes, including children, sing songs, pray to the deity and then begin searching for scorpions beneath boulders and rocks on the hill. After playing with the scorpions, the villagers bring them to the temple and place them before the deity. They then offer saree, oil and coconut to the deity, pray to it and then start their descent. Scorpions generally are shy creatures and they scurry away to the safety of a nook or corner. They rarely sting unless they are touched. But in this case, they neither flee from human touch nor do they sting. So far, there has not been a single case of scorpion bite on this day. Chelina Jatre is not only a unique and fascinating festival, it also makes an incredible relation between humans and some of the venomous creatures of the earth. Surely it decreases the inbred fear of scorpions – snakes, makes people to see the life in another way and make them realise that how there are many creatures living on our planet sharing it with us.

The list of Indian Major BioFest is very long considering that there are many plants and animals sacred in India and there is always a specific day and festival devoted to worship them. The list of Indian sacred plants and animals is uncountable due to its bio-ethnic-diversity and so the list of these festivals and rituals.

... To be continued

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Greenwashing set Canada on fire

On September 22, I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

As a teenager growing up in Ontario, I always envied the kids who spent their summers tree planting; they'd come back from the bush in September, insect-chewed and leathery, with new muscle, incredible stories, thousands of dollars, and a glow imparted by the knowledge that they'd made a new forest with their own blistered hands.

I was too unathletic to follow them into the bush, but I spent my summers doing my bit, ringing doorbells for Greenpeace to get my neighbours fired up about the Canadian pulp-and-paper industry, which wasn't merely clear-cutting our old-growth forests – it was also poisoning the Great Lakes system with PCBs, threatening us all.

At the time, I thought of tree-planting as a small victory – sure, our homegrown, rapacious, extractive industry was able to pollute with impunity, but at least the government had reined them in on forests, forcing them to pay my pals to spend their summers replacing the forests they'd fed into their mills.

I was wrong. Last summer's Canadian wildfires blanketed the whole east coast and midwest in choking smoke as millions of trees burned and millions of tons of CO2 were sent into the atmosphere. Those wildfires weren't just an effect of the climate emergency: they were made far worse by all those trees planted by my pals in the eighties and nineties.

Writing in the New York Times, novelist Claire Cameron describes her own teen years working in the bush, planting row after row of black spruces, precisely spaced at six-foot intervals:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/15/opinion/wildfires-treeplanting-timebomb.html

Cameron's summer job was funded by the logging industry, whose self-pegulated, self-assigned "penalty" for clearcutting diverse forests of spruce, pine and aspen was to pay teenagers to create a tree farm, at nine cents per sapling (minus camp costs).

Black spruces are made to burn, filled with flammable sap and equipped with resin-filled cones that rely on fire, only opening and dropping seeds when they're heated. They're so flammable that firefighters call them "gas on a stick."

Cameron and her friends planted under brutal conditions: working long hours in blowlamp heat and dripping wet bulb humidity, amidst clouds of stinging insects, fingers blistered and muscles aching. But when they hit rock bottom and were ready to quit, they'd encourage one another with a rallying cry: "Let's go make a forest!"

Planting neat rows of black spruces was great for the logging industry: the even spacing guaranteed that when the trees matured, they could be easily reaped, with ample space between each near-identical tree for massive shears to operate. But that same monocropped, evenly spaced "forest" was also optimized to burn.

It burned.

The climate emergency's frequent droughts turn black spruces into "something closer to a blowtorch." The "pines in lines" approach to reforesting was an act of sabotage, not remediation. Black spruces are thirsty, and they absorb the water that moss needs to thrive, producing "kindling in the place of fire retardant."

Cameron's column concludes with this heartbreaking line: "Now when I think of that summer, I don’t think that I was planting trees at all. I was planting thousands of blowtorches a day."

The logging industry committed a triple crime. First, they stole our old-growth forests. Next, they (literally) planted a time-bomb across Ontario's north. Finally, they stole the idealism of people who genuinely cared about the environment. They taught a generation that resistance is futile, that anything you do to make a better future is a scam, and you're a sucker for falling for it. They planted nihilism with every tree.

That scam never ended. Today, we're sold carbon offsets, a modern Papal indulgence. We are told that if we pay the finance sector, they can absolve us for our climate sins. Carbon offsets are a scam, a market for lemons. The "offset" you buy might be a generated by a fake charity like the Nature Conservancy, who use well-intentioned donations to buy up wildlife reserves that can't be logged, which are then converted into carbon credits by promising not to log them:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/12/fairy-use-tale/#greenwashing

The credit-card company that promises to plant trees every time you use your card? They combine false promises, deceptive advertising, and legal threats against critics to convince you that you're saving the planet by shopping:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/17/do-well-do-good-do-nothing/#greenwashing

The carbon offset world is full of scams. The carbon offset that made the thing you bought into a "net zero" product? It might be a forest that already burned:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/11/a-market-for-flaming-lemons/#money-for-nothing

The only reason we have carbon offsets is that market cultists have spent forty years convincing us that actual regulation is impossible. In the neoliberal learned helplessness mind-palace, there's no way to simply say, "You may not log old-growth forests." Rather, we have to say, "We will 'align your incentives' by making you replace those forests."

The Climate Ad Project's "Murder Offsets" video deftly punctures this bubble. In it, a detective points his finger at the man who committed the locked-room murder in the isolated mansion. The murderer cheerfully admits that he did it, but produces a "murder offset," which allowed him to pay someone else not to commit a murder, using market-based price-discovery mechanisms to put a dollar-figure on the true worth of a murder, which he duly paid, making his kill absolutely fine:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/14/for-sale-green-indulgences/#killer-analogy

What's the alternative to murder offsets/carbon credits? We could ask our expert regulators to decide which carbon intensive activities are necessary and which ones aren't, and ban the unnecessary ones. We could ask those regulators to devise remediation programs that actually work. After all, there are plenty of forests that have already been clearcut, plenty that have burned. It would be nice to know how we can plant new forests there that aren't "thousands of blowtorches."

If that sounds implausible to you, then you've gotten trapped in the neoliberal mind-palace.

The term "regulatory capture" was popularized by far-right Chicago School economists who were promoting "public choice theory." In their telling, regulatory capture is inevitable, because companies will spend whatever it takes to get the government to pass laws making what they do legal, and making competing with them into a crime:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/13/public-choice/#ajit-pai-still-terrible

This is true, as far as it goes. Capitalists hate capitalism, and if an "entrepreneur" can make it illegal to compete with him, he will. But while this is a reasonable starting-point, the place that Public Choice Theory weirdos get to next is bonkers. They say that since corporations will always seek to capture their regulators, we should abolish regulators.

They say that it's impossible for good regulations to exist, and therefore the only regulation that is even possible is to let businesses do whatever they want and wait for the invisible hand to sweep away the bad companies. Rather than creating hand-washing rules for restaurant kitchens, we should let restaurateurs decide whether it's economically rational to make us shit ourselves to death. The ones that choose poorly will get bad online reviews and people will "vote with their dollars" for the good restaurants.

And if the online review site decides to sell "reputation management" to restaurants that get bad reviews? Well, soon the public will learn that the review site can't be trusted and they'll take their business elsewhere. No regulation needed! Unleash the innovators! Set the job-creators free!

This is the Ur-nihilism from which all the other nihilism springs. It contends that the regulations we have – the ones that keep our buildings from falling down on our heads, that keep our groceries from poisoning us, that keep our cars from exploding on impact – are either illusory, or perhaps the forgotten art of a lost civilization. Making good regulations is like embalming Pharaohs, something the ancients practiced in mist-shrouded, unrecoverable antiquity – and that may not have happened at all.

Regulation is corruptible, but it need not be corrupt. Regulation, like science, is a process of neutrally adjudicated, adversarial peer-review. In a robust regulatory process, multiple parties respond to a fact-intensive question – "what alloys and other properties make a reinforced steel joist structurally sound?" – with a mix of robust evidence and self-serving bullshit and then proceed to sort the two by pantsing each other, pointing out one another's lies.

The regulator, an independent expert with no conflicts of interest, sorts through the claims and counterclaims and makes a rule, showing their workings and leaving the door open to revisiting the rule based on new evidence or challenges to the evidence presented.

But when an industry becomes concentrated, it becomes unregulatable. 100 small and medium-sized companies will squabble. They'll struggle to come up with a common lie. There will always be defectors in their midst. Their conduct will be legible to external experts, who will be able to spot the self-serving BS.

But let that industry dwindle to a handful of giant companies, let them shrink to a number that will fit around a boardroom table, and they will sit down at a table and agree on a cozy arrangement that fucks us all over to their benefit. They will become so inbred that the only people who understand how they work will be their own insiders, and so top regulators will be drawn from their own number and be hopelessly conflicted.

When the corporate sector takes over, regulatory capture is inevitable. But corporate takeover isn't inevitable. We can – and have, and will again – fight corporate power, with antitrust law, with unions, and with consumer rights groups. Knowing things is possible. It simply requires that we keep the entities that profit by our confusion poor and thus weak.

The thing is, corporations don't always lie about regulations. Take the fight over working encryption, which – once again – the UK government is trying to ban:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2023/feb/24/signal-app-warns-it-will-quit-uk-if-law-weakens-end-to-end-encryption

Advocates for criminalising working encryption insist that the claims that this is impossible are the same kind of self-serving nonsense as claims that banning clearcutting of old-growth forests is impossible:

https://twitter.com/JimBethell/status/1699339739042599276

They say that when technologists say, "We can't make an encryption system that keeps bad guys out but lets good guys in," that they are being lazy and unimaginative. "I have faith in you geeks," they said. "Go nerd harder! You'll figure it out."

Google and Apple and Meta say that selectively breakable encryption is impossible. But they also claim that a bunch of eminently possible things are impossible. Apple claims that it's impossible to have a secure device where you get to decide which software you want to use and where publishers aren't deprive of 30 cents on every dollar you spend. Google says it's impossible to search the web without being comprehensively, nonconsensually spied upon from asshole to appetite. Meta insists that it's impossible to have digital social relationship without having your friendships surveilled and commodified.

While they're not lying about encryption, they are lying about these other things, and sorting out the lies from the truth is the job of regulators, but that job is nearly impossible thanks to the fact that everyone who runs a large online service tells the same lies – and the regulators themselves are alumni of the industry's upper eschelons.

Logging companies know a lot about forests. When we ask, "What is the best way to remediate our forests," the companies may well have useful things to say. But those useful things will be mixed with actively harmful lies. The carefully cultivated incompetence of our regulators means that they can't tell the difference.

Conspiratorialism is characterized as a problem of what people believe, but the true roots of conspiracy belief isn't what we believe, it's how we decide what to believe. It's not beliefs, it's epistemology.

Because most of us aren't qualified to sort good reforesting programs from bad ones. And even if we are, we're probably not also well-versed enough in cryptography to sort credible claims about encryption from wishful thinking. And even if we're capable of making that determination, we're not experts in food hygiene or structural engineering.

Daily life in the 21st century means resolving a thousand life-or-death technical questions every day. Our regulators – corrupted by literally out-of-control corporations – are no longer reliable sources of ground truth on these questions. The resulting epistemological chaos is a cancer that gnaws away at our resolve to do anything about it. It is a festering pool where nihilism outbreaks are incubated.

The liberal response to conspiratorialism is mockery. In her new book Doppelganger, Naomi Klein tells of how right-wing surveillance fearmongering about QR-code "vaccine passports" was dismissed with a glib, "Wait until they hear about cellphones!"

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

But as Klein points out, it's not good that our cellphones invade our privacy in the way that right-wing conspiracists thought that vaccine passports might. The nihilism of liberalism – which insists that things can't be changed except through market "solutions" – leads us to despair.

By contrast, leftism – a muscular belief in democratic, publicly run planning and action – offers a tonic to nihilism. We don't have to let logging companies decide whether a forest can be cut, or what should be planted when it is. We can have nice things. The art of finding out what's true or prudent didn't die with the Reagan Revolution (or the discount Canadian version, the Mulroney Malaise). The truth is knowable. Doing stuff is possible. Things don't have to be on fire.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/16/murder-offsets/#pulped-and-papered

[buckets-and-trees]

Now That I Saw You

Characters/Pairings: lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant reader Word Count: 4k Summary: Finally home from the work trip to Norway where things changed with your boss, you are uncertain about what the future means exactly, but eager to see him again. Sequel to What You Want.

Content Warnings: modern AU, slight power dynamic, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, body reverence/worship, use of "plum" as a term of endearment, sex in a semi-public place

Logistical Notes: My August entry for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo using the BODY WORSHIP prompt and week 3 of Hot Bucky Summer hitting up that SOMEONE ELSE'S HOUSE prompt.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Normal breathing, you thought to yourself as the driver pulled up the drive of the massive estate of Alexander Pierce, one of the senior partners of the law firm where you worked. This was your first time attending the firm’s New Year’s Eve party since you’d only begun working for Bucky in the early spring, and although you were only Bucky’s assistant, you had heard enough directly and indirectly to know that making an appearance here mattered. Bucky had insisted that you didn’t need to feel obligated to come – especially since he’d kept you away from your family over Christmas when the weather had made it impossible to fly home from the business trip to Norway. He had even insisted on paying for flights for you to go straight home instead of making the long drive to your hometown.

What he didn’t know was that you had called and changed your return flight from January 2 to December 31.

Bucky was close to making partner, and you wanted to show that you were one of the small but dedicated team he had in his office that took their work supporting Bucky seriously.

And while being home for some delayed holiday time with your family had been nice, the longer you were there, the more you were itching to get back to New York and figure out what life was going to look like with your boss post-Norway.

Five days of normal business followed by the three “stranded” days of Nordic adventures, shopping, sightseeing, dining, spoiling, and so much sex. So much sex.

With Bucky.

Your boss.

A valet stepped up to open your door as the Uber driver stopped in the circular receiving area of the driveway at the front of the mansion. As you stepped out and began walking up the steps, you were glad you went with the modest heels rather than the strappy high heels your best friend had tried to coax you to pick when you FaceTimed her while getting ready. Since you were nervous about enough other things, you didn’t need to worry about your shoes tonight.

Things like the bolder shade of lipstick you’d put on, or the sexiest dress you’d ever worn, or simply the fact that you didn’t know where everything that happened in Norway left you with Bucky Barnes.

Minor things to trifle over, really.

You gave your name to an attendant at the front. They scanned the list, smiled, welcomed you to the festivities, and gestured toward the staff taking care of a coat check just inside, off to the right of the grand foyer.

You gave your name to an attendant at the front. They scanned the list, smiled, welcomed you to the festivities, and gestured toward the staff taking care of a coat check just inside, off to the right of the grand foyer.

As you approached the coat check, you couldn't help but marvel at the opulence surrounding you. The foyer was a masterpiece of marble and gold, with a grand staircase sweeping upwards and crystal chandeliers twinkling overhead. You were enveloped by a pleasantly thick scent of gardenias and champagne, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and tinkling laughter from the rooms beyond.

You slipped off your coat, revealing the dress you'd agonized over for hours. It was a deep emerald green, hugging your curves before falling in a silky waterfall to your ankles. The neckline dipped low, and the back was even lower, leaving you feeling both sophisticated and slightly exposed.

The attendant handed you a small golden ticket in exchange for your coat, and you tucked it carefully into your clutch. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the evening ahead. The butterflies in your stomach were performing an intricate ballet, a mix of excitement and nerves that left you feeling slightly lightheaded.

As you turned to face the grand ballroom, you were immediately enveloped by the soft glow of candlelight and the gentle tinkling of champagne glasses. The room was a vision of elegance, with towering floral arrangements adorning every table and shimmering gold accents catching the light. The air was filled with the gentle hum of conversation and laughter, the tinkling of champagne flutes, and the soft strains of a live orchestra.

You took a tentative step forward, your eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar face. The sea of designer gowns and tailored suits was intimidating, and you found yourself second-guessing your decision to attend. Just as you were considering a hasty retreat, a warm, familiar voice called your name.

"Hey there, stranger! I was hoping you'd make it tonight."

You turned to see Steve Rogers, Bucky's best friend and fellow lawyer at the firm. He approached, moving with a swift grace as he always did, his broad shoulders filling out an impeccably tailored navy suit, a glass of champagne in each hand. He’d be intimidating if you hadn’t forged a wonderfully warm friendship over the past months working in the office. You admired how much he wanted to take care of those around him, unafraid to speak up whenever needed, and equally ready to make someone smile.

Even now, the tension in your shoulders eased at the sight of him and his bright smile.

“Bucky will be happy to see you!”

You ducked your head a moment, taking a sip of the champagne he offered. “He will?”

“I don’t think he could tie his shoes anymore without you,” Steve exaggerated, but the compliment warmed your insides anyway.

Steve offered you his arm and then led you further into the party.

Your senses were overwhelmed by the sheer grandeur of the event. Everywhere you looked, your eyes drank in more exquisite details infusing the atmosphere. You passed by a magnificent ice sculpture of the firm's logo, its edges glinting in the candlelight. You passed by tables laden with delicacies from around the world - tiny caviar-topped blinis, glistening oysters nestled in beds of ice, and delicate pastries that looked almost too beautiful to eat. Waiters in crisp white jackets glided effortlessly through the crowd, their trays balanced with flutes of golden champagne and jewel-toned cocktails.

You couldn't help but feel a bit like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole. Each new sight was more wondrous than the last. To your left, a living statue covered in shimmering gold paint posed gracefully atop a pedestal, her movements so subtle you had to blink to be sure she was real. To your right, an aerialist in a glittering silver bodysuit performed breathtaking feats on silks suspended from the vaulted ceiling, twirling and spinning in mesmerizing patterns.

Near them, a group of women in shimmering gowns laughed melodiously, their jewelry catching the light with every gesture. You nodded politely at a few familiar faces from the office, but your attention was divided, always seeking. You noticed Alexander Pierce himself holding court near a grand fireplace, his silver hair gleaming as he regaled a captive audience with what was surely a riveting anecdote.

As you and Steve wove through the crowd, your eyes continued to roam, searching for one face in particular. The anticipation built with each passing moment, your heart quickening its pace. You nodded politely at a few familiar faces from the office, but your attention was divided, always seeking.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, your gaze was pulled across the room to finally land on Bucky Barnes, looking devastatingly handsome in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. His dark hair was newly trimmed since you last saw him, sleek in a way that made your fingers itch to rake through it and over his scalp. He was engaged in conversation with a small group, his head thrown back in laughter at something someone had said.

Suddenly, Bucky's attention shifted to you, his eyes locking onto yours across the bustling room. The laughter died on his lips, replaced with a bit of wonder and an impossibly charming grin. Immediately heat was pooling in your stomach, nerves somewhat calmed, but a different itch pitching inside you.

The world seemed to slow down as Bucky excused himself from his group and began making his way towards you. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him approach, his eyes never leaving yours. The crowded room seemed to part for him, or perhaps it was just your imagination playing tricks on you.

As he drew closer, you could see the slight widening of his eyes as he took in your appearance. His gaze traveled slowly from your face down to your toes and back up again, lingering on the curves accentuated by your dress. When his eyes met yours again, they were dark with an intensity that made your skin tingle and memories of your time in Norway together flash vividly through your mind.

"You're here," Bucky said softly as he reached you, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "I thought you were still with your family."

You smiled, trying to keep your voice steady. "I wanted to surprise you. I hope that's okay?"

"More than okay," he murmured, his eyes still roaming over you appreciatively. "You look absolutely stunning."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his compliment. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself," you replied, taking in his impeccably tailored tuxedo.

Steve cleared his throat beside you, reminding you both of his presence. "I'll leave you two to catch up," he said with a knowing smile, giving Bucky a pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

Suddenly alone with Bucky, you felt the air between you crackle with tension. The noise of the party faded into the background as you stood there, lost in each other's gaze.

"Can I get you a drink?" Bucky asked, gesturing towards the bar.

You lifted your half-empty champagne flute. "I could use a refill," you said with a smile.

Bucky's hand found the small of your back as he guided you towards the bar, the possessive heat of his touch sending flames radiating across your skin. You were acutely aware of every point of contact between you, rejoicing and regretting over choosing the dangerously low and exposed back that allowed him skin to skin access in this moment.

As you waited for your drinks, Bucky leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "I can't believe you're here," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Since Norway, you’ve been on my mind constantly.

Your heart raced at his words, memories of passionate nights, morning, afternoons, and so many stolen kisses streaming through your mind. "I couldn't stay away," you admitted softly. "I needed to see you."

Bucky's eyes darkened with desire, his gaze dropping to your lips. For a moment, you thought Bucky might kiss you right there, in full view of everyone. But he seemed to catch himself, remembering where you were. Instead, he reached past you to collect your drinks from the bartender - a flute of golden champagne for you and a tumbler of amber whiskey for himself.

"Come with me," he murmured, his voice husky and filled with promise. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining as he led you away from the crowded ballroom.

Your heart raced as you followed him down a dimly lit corridor, the sounds of the party fading behind you. Moonlight streamed through tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished marble floor. His fingers tightened around yours as he glanced back, a roguish glint in his eyes.

At the end of the hall, he paused before an ornate wooden door. With a quick look around, he turned the handle and drew you inside. You found yourself in a luxurious study, shelves of leather-bound books lining the walls and a grand desk dominating the center of the room.

Bucky took your glass and his and set them on the desk. Then his strong arms encircled your waist and drew you to him. "We shouldn't be in here," you whispered, even as excitement coursed through your veins.

"Shh," he replied, pulling you closer. His lips found yours in a searing kiss that made your knees weak. You melted against him, hands roaming over the broad planes of his shoulders.

As Bucky's lips moved against yours, all thoughts of propriety and caution melted away. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers curling into the lapels of his tuxedo jacket as you pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, pent-up longing and desire pouring out between you.

Bucky's hands roamed your back, tracing the exposed skin left bare by your daring dress. And the way he touched you? Reverently worshipping the curves and plump flesh you were usually so insecure about? This was why you dared to show more than you typically did. He made you believe you were gorgeous. His touch ignited sparks along your spine, each caress stoking the fire building within you. You gasped as he nipped at your lower lip, using the opportunity to sweep his tongue into your mouth.

The taste of whiskey on his lips mingled with the lingering champagne on yours, creating an intoxicating blend that left you dizzy with want. You pressed yourself closer, desperate to eliminate any space between your bodies. He slipped a finger beneath the strap on your shoulder and pushed it down, tugging until he freed one of your breasts. He hummed as he began to palm it with his large hand, and you arched into his touch.

Suddenly, Bucky broke the kiss, and spun you around. You gasped and brought both hands out to steady yourself on the edge of the desk.

Bucky's lips traced a burning path down the curve of your neck, pausing to nip gently at the sensitive spot where it met your shoulder. You shivered as his warm breath ghosted across your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake. His kisses continued their southward journey, open-mouthed heat following the elegant line of your spine.

Each press of his lips felt like a spark igniting your nerve endings. The cool air of the study contrasted sharply with the heat of his mouth, creating a delicious tension that had you trembling. As he moved lower, his hands skimmed down your sides, fingers tracing the curves of your waist and hips with reverent appreciation.

As Bucky sank to his knees behind you, his hands slid down to your hips, his breath now teasing the small of your back. The anticipation built, your heart racing as you felt him gather the silky fabric of your dress in his hands, lifting it inch by tantalizing inch. The whisper of the material against your skin was electric, heightening every sensation. When he reached your hips, he paused, his fingers tracing the lace edge of your panties.

"You're exquisite," he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

Slowly, reverently, he began to peel your panties down. The delicate lace clung to your curves before giving way, sliding down your thighs.

You shivered as the cool air hit your exposed skin, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through you. Bucky's hands caressed your thighs, urging them apart, his touch both soothing and electrifying. You could feel his hot breath against your most intimate areas, causing a fresh wave of arousal to wash over you.

"God, I've missed you," Bucky groaned, his voice husky with desire. "Missed tasting you."

Without further preamble, he leaned in and ran his tongue along your slit, eliciting a gasp from you. Your fingers gripped the edge of the desk tighter as he began to explore you with his mouth, his skilled tongue alternating between long, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks.

You bit your lip to stifle a moan, acutely aware of the party continuing just down the hall. One of his hands snaked around to caress your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. The dual sensations had you panting, struggling to keep quiet as waves of pleasure washed over you. The thought of being caught only added to the intensity of sensations swirling through your body.

Bucky's tongue worked magic between your thighs, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your most sensitive spots. Your legs trembled as the pleasure built, threatening to overwhelm you. You bit down on your lip, desperately trying to muffle the moans that threatened to escape.

"Let me hear you, plum," Bucky murmured against your heated flesh. "I want to know how good I'm making you feel."

His words sent a shiver through you, and you allowed a soft whimper to escape.

Encouraged, Bucky redoubled his efforts, his tongue circling your clit with increasing pressure. One of his hands slid up your inner thigh, and you gasped as he slowly pushed two fingers inside you.

The dual sensations of his tongue on your clit and his fingers curling inside you had you seeing stars. Your hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against his face as you chased your release. The coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

Just as you were about to tumble over the precipice, the sound of approaching voices in the hallway made you freeze. Panic mingled with arousal as you realized how exposed you were, bent over the desk of what had to be Alexander Pierce’s private study.

But Bucky was undeterred, and you bit your lip to stifle your moans, acutely aware that you were in a semi-public space. The thought of getting caught only added to the thrill, your arousal only surging more, lapped up by his wicked tongue. He worshipped at the altar of your sex with so much devotion, you weren’t quite ready to think about the implications of yet.

Bucky's fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your toes curl. His tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. The voices in the hallway grew closer, and your heart pounded with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.

"Bucky," you whispered urgently, your voice trembling. "Someone's coming."

He hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. "Then you better come first," he murmured, his voice muffled but determined.

The voices in the hallway grew louder, and you could make out snippets of conversation about quarterly reports and market projections. Your heart raced, torn between the need for release and the fear of discovery.

Bucky, however, seemed to relish the added excitement. His ministrations became more intense, his tongue flicking rapidly against your sensitive bud while his fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with each thrust. The combination of pleasure and danger pushed you closer to the edge.

"Come for me," Bucky whispered against your heated flesh, his breath sending shivers through your body. "Let go, plum. I've got you."

His words were your undoing. The tension that had been building inside you finally snapped, and you came with a silent scream, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure washed over you. Bucky's mouth and fingers worked you through your orgasm. Your legs trembled as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you. Bucky's touch gentled, his fingers slipping out of you as he pressed soft kisses to your inner thighs. The voices in the hallway faded, moving past the study door without pause.

With shaky hands, you pushed yourself up from the desk, your breath still coming in quick passes. Bucky helped drop the fabric of your dress back down to the floor and rose to his feet behind you. He turned you back around to face him and brought you back into his arms. You could feel the hard line of his arousal pressing against you, but he seemed unconcerned over seeking his own relief.

"You're incredible," he murmured, his lips brushing your forehead. "So beautiful when you come undone for me."

He dipped down and pressed a kiss to the swell of your still exposed breast before then bringing your dress back up and over your shoulder, setting it completely right again.

Your hands slid up to loop around his neck. His eyes were dark with desire, his lips slightly swollen from his ministrations.

"That was…" you trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"Amazing," Bucky finished for you. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it sent a fresh wave of arousal through you.

But before either of you could be tempted into anything else, the voices in the hall returned.

"I'm telling you, Alexander, the Ultron account is a goldmine waiting to happen," a booming voice declared footsteps drew closer.

Bucky quickly reached for the drinks on the desk, pressing your champagne flute into your fingers. The he dipped to the floor, snatched up your panties, and pocketed them. You bit your lip, and he smirked at you.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Wilson, but I'm not convinced the risk is worth the potential reward," came Alexander Pierce's measured reply as the door opened.

"Barnes! There you are," Alexander Pierce's voice boomed as he entered the study, followed by two other senior partners. "We've been looking for you."

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure everyone could hear it.

Bucky turned, his body language relaxed and confident despite almost being caught in a compromising position.

"Mr. Pierce," Bucky greeted smoothly, his voice betraying none of the tension you felt. "I was just showing my assistant the impressive library you have here. We both share a passion for rare first editions."

You nodded. "It's truly remarkable," you managed, proud of how steady your voice sounded.

Pierce's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked between you and Bucky, but his expression remained neutral. "Indeed it is," he said, moving towards one of the bookshelves. His hand swept over one of the shelves. "I'm particularly fond of this Hemingway collection. However, I’m afraid I can’t entertain you with its history and how I had to hunt them down presently. I’m actually glad we found you, Barnes. We have some urgent matters to discuss regarding the Stark Industries merger. I’d like to bring you in on it, if you’re game."

"Of course, sir,” Bucky nodded, his professional mask slipping for only the briefest of moments, but you saw the excitement there for the opportunity presented.

"Excellent," Pierce said, clapping his hands together. "Gentlemen, have a seat." He turned to you, his smile polite but dismissive. "Thank you for your interest in the collection, and, please, enjoy the rest of the party."

You nodded, understanding the clear directive. "Of course, Mr. Pierce. Thank you for your hospitality."

As you moved to leave, Bucky caught your eye. His gaze was intense, filled with unspoken promises. "I'll find you," he mouthed silently, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you slipped out of the study, leaving Bucky to his impromptu meeting. Your mind was reeling from the events of the last few minutes - the passionate encounter with Bucky, the near-miss of being caught. Mostly, though, you were happy you had come after all and were eager to spend the rest of the evening with Bucky. At a party like this where business and pleasure stood side by side, you knew the host couldn’t be gone in his study for long, and then Bucky would return to your side, and you’d be able to ring in the New Year just right.

Read more stories from the Deliciously Debauched Labor Day Weekend!

It's been SO LONG since we've seen these two! I hope it was a nice return to them.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

I love it when Destiny takes time to show the smaller moments of the universe.

Eido nerding out over preserving culture, people celebrating the Festival of the Lost, baking cookies when the temperature drops, Zavala knitting, Osiris and Saint being tender, random guardians and their friends that we might never get another lore entry on, guardians who we get a handful of lore entries for their shenanigans, conversations about beliefs between characters we know and love, and so, so much more.

In the face of tremendous loss and pain, there are always moments of unconquerable joy and love, even if they are brief. Love can be found in every tale, every crevice, and every event in Destiny despite despairing circumstances and it wins. Maybe not immediately, maybe long after the lovers have perished to their situations, but it always triumphs. It’s seeds always burst through an inhospitable soil to grow into the shade others will lay under, resting their heads upon a person they would propagate a whole forest for.

It is the small moments like finding unlikely companions, enjoying a deeply brewed tea, or collecting candy on holidays that keeps people fighting for the ability to experience such delights.

Destiny is about a universe of people who will choose to survive and endure no matter the cost. It is the assuring sight of different species of children playing in the streets of the Last City that people will suffer time and time again to protect. It is the thought that there will always be a precious experience in life awaiting in the future that makes people want to even keep the very POSSIBILITY of suffering.

Eris has saved the universe to bring justice to her fireteam, protect humanity, and save the ones she loves like Ikora, Mara, and Drifter. That is enough.

Misraaks has helped us in our endeavors to protect Sol for his people and Eido, to see them prosper and grow. That is enough.

Some guardians may fight just to bring in enough glimmer to enjoy a drink at a tavern. That is enough.

Some people right after the Collapse may have continued on because they didn’t know what else to do, they didn’t know why they had it in their spirit to continue on upon a charred Earth. That is enough.

These are all enough to warrant the continuation of a universe that allows for these possibilities. These are enough and more to fight for with bleeding callouses and busted knuckles.

It is moments so fleeting and small that leave such an impression on us that we will fight against odds so enduring and large. We fight for justice, for hope, for good food, for the smell of blossoms in Spring.

We will do it over and over again for it is our right to determine our fates, no matter the indifference we receive from the universe itself and no matter the wants of those who equate the small to be inconsequential.

[dduane]

Okay, this is unusual

“The Great Chestnut Experiment is on a quest to bring the chestnut back into the heart of American culture. We create cozy treats for a forest-first future, with every bite inviting you to step into a world where trees tower, farmers flourish, and the humble chestnut reigns once again.

“As we embark on our second season, The Great Chestnut Experiment is weaving together a treasure trove of delights featuring our hero ingredient: gift sets fit for a festive gathering, sweet and savory wonders, and golden, roasted chestnuts by the cone—perfect for keeping hands warm as the days get shorter. You’ll find these treasures at the Bryant Park Holiday Market in New York City as well as our online store.”

[golden-afternoon]

Yeah I was working on another actual fic but uhhh the 'Nari brainrot took over so uhhh here take me going insane over him and rambling about what comes to my mind. Kay? Kay.

Warnings - nsfw, mating cycle talk from a person who only has google by her side, absolutely not proofread having gone straight from brain to paper, and just know there is a solid chance I'll have more to say about this in the future.

Tighnari, by his very nature, is a very compartmentalized person. His own problems stay within himself to be dealt with later when he is done and everyone else's needs are already attended to. Always concerned with helping others and keeping things in order, even to the point of staying up into the early hours of the morning, less concerned with himself than those around him. If he’s ever struggling with anything at all, he will do absolutely everything in his power to keep anyone from knowing about it, much less something as personal as this.

In the early months of the year, especially as Lantern Rite nears, Tighnari becomes withdrawn. Quieter, more distant. The Forest Watchers have been talking for forever back and forth swapping theories and rumors in not so hushed tones.

“I heard Master Tighnari lost a family member around this time of year.”

“Really? I heard he just reeeeally hates any kind of festivities especially Lantern Rite because it's so noisy, even when not in Liyue.”

“I dunno, maybe he's just sensitive to the cold?”

Unlike the usual case where he was quick to nip such chatter in the bud and tell off the Rangers for gossiping, he remains entirely silent on the issue, otherwise carrying on as usual. Setting up excursions, documenting his findings, helping and guiding wherever he was needed…

Until he just can't stand it anymore. With hardly a word, save perhaps to Collei to ask her to care for things in his absence, he retreats, hiding himself away in his hut, barricading himself in completely so no nosy Rangers have any reason to loiter around.

He hates it.

He understands it's natural and it's going to happen and blah blah blah, but it was such a nuisance to his life he would give anything to not have to put up with it. The worst of it usually lasts a week or two before he can at least carry some semblance of normalcy and feel willing and able to return to work, but while he's in it, it drives him insane.

Some years it's so bad that he can't even focus on anything other than the absolutely filthy thoughts that plague his mind, his hands shaking so hard he can't even hold a pen long enough to attempt any sort of work. Even like this he just doesn't feel right not being productive especially when he's always running around here and there the rest of the year, why should this be any different?

Head slamming into his desk with a groan, a flush curling up his cheeks and neck. Eventually he has to crack, begrudgingly caring for the needs that grow and grow and grow and become nigh insatiable during his rut.

It starts out almost clinical, looking to just take care of a symptom of an illness almost. Face flushed, lips curled into a deep frown, he sits at his desk, fisting his cock with precision, hoping to get it over with as fast as possible by hitting everything just right.

But no. After dealing with this for years you think he would have known by now that just once isn't enough, yet he still hopes year after year. It only gets worse. Over and over and over again until he's just sore and it hurts. Until he can't keep jerking it lest he make his own skin turn raw. By this point he usually finds himself in his bed, ears flat and face buried into some blankets to muffle the pathetic whimpers that left his lips as he kept grinding his hips into the pillows over and over and over and over, chasing even the slightest modicum of relief.

And most of the time, as annoying as it is, it was completely fine for him to just be stuck imagining some faceless, nameless mate beneath him as he struggled to sate these urges. However, if Tighnari has a bit of a crush… Well, he'd be in for a rude awakening if he hadn't already acknowledged his feelings for you.

I could see poor Tighnari getting almost ill as he realized the cute moans he was imagining sounded a little too much like your voice. Everything freezes for a moment, his stomach lurching both from the realization and the sudden loss of friction when he faltered. He tries so hard to brush it aside, chastising himself for pulling you into his filthy mind right then. But it doesn't stop. Your face, your voice, your skin. Everything. Everything stays in his mind and he cannot stop it. He feels such overwhelming shame about it, but… he does eventually give in and just let whatever fantasies take root, especially since it seems to ease the feelings when he does.

But when he sees you after the worst of it is over and he leaves his hut, guilt grips around his heart and memories of those fantasies rush into his head, leaving him turning on his heel to avoid you at all costs, honestly risking you thinking he hates you with how intensely he's ignoring you.

It's even worse because Tighnari considers hiding in his hut again for even longer as usually he was fine when the worst of it passed, he could resume his duties, but with you around, he could feel his hands shaking, the intense urge to find you wherever you were and pin you down immediately was so strong it scared him a little. Sometimes it caught him off guard too, like he would catch your scent on the breeze and while in his rut, he would genuinely get so horny so fast he's gotten lightheaded, having to catch himself on whatever was nearby so he didn't go crashing down.

If he hated his rut before, the shame of all this made him absolutely loathe it.

Maybe one day you can find a way to make it a liiiiittle more bearable for him ♡

[babiebom]

Hey brother, I am humbly requesting a SDV Sam (or Alex) fic about the harvest festival & the fortune teller. I just think it’s a cute idea to see what the fortune teller says to Sam before/after meeting the farmer

A/N: this is such a cute idea!! Since this is more of a one shot request I can do both on this post? Hopefully by the time you see this it isn’t too far into the future!! Hopefully you enjoy how I wrote this!! Sorry it took a little while!

Genre:oneshot, fluff, some angst.

Tw:mention of death, mention of depression/insecurities, cursing, 2 mentions of the war that goes on in the game.

Wc: 0.5k for Alex / 0.5k for Sam

Sdv Masterlist

Alex

Alex was never one to go visit the fortune teller. He simply doesn’t really believe in magic, or the ability to see the future. Sure, there was the weird wizard that lived near the forest, and the monsters that live in the caves, but those were just outliers and didn’t have anything to do with the general population. The first and only time he went to it as an adult, was with Haley. He hated his fortune then, it tore down all his dreams and put him into an even more insecure place than he was in before.

No mom, no dad, and aging grandparents and now the woman in the tent is telling him that his current girlfriend isn’t his soulmate or the one he will end up with, and they’re saying his gridball career won’t take off and he’s going to end up in Pelican Town for the rest of his life? Actual dogshit.

It’s his own fault that he asked in the first place, he thinks. Haley wasn’t too mad with her fortune, and she didn’t seemed all that torn up about the fortune teller saying they weren’t meant for each other. It just pissed him off even more. Did this mean they were going to break up? Should they? Did he even have to listen or believe the fortune teller? It was probably just bullshit anyways, a scam to get idiots to spend more money to find out their future because she scared them. He’s never doing the stupid fortune thing again!

“Let’s do the fortune teller!” Your eyes are shining so brightly with excitement that he can’t say no. Obviously he hates the damned scam, and he didn’t have to agree but he liked you too much to disagree with visiting the woman one last time.

You shove him inside first, already looking through your backpack for your coin bag. “You go first.”

He swallows and steps up to the woman, glaring at her openly. She makes no move to react to his obvious discontent, instead waiting for him to dish out money so she could say something else to crush his hopes and dreams. At least you’re in here with him to hear what actual bullshit this is…you’re kicked out of the tent while he’s getting his fortune read.

“Hmm…I see you in the town’s square…it looks like you’re receiving a mermaid pendant. Looks like someone wants to marry you!”

“Marriage? To who?” He hopes that it’s you. You weren’t really in a relationship right now, but he does hope that it’s you giving him that pendant.

“Hmm…you’re watching a gridball match with the other guys in town…looks fun! It seems like you’ve brought everyone together.”

“The crystal ball has moved on…I see you and the farmer. You’re laughing together on the beach, looks like you’re holding a ball. The way you’re going it looks like you two are quite close! Ah���the crystal ball has gone dim. That’s all I can do for you, young one.”

Stepping out of the tent, Alex somehow feels better. He’s going to get married at some point, and you and him are going to be on good terms for a while. Maybe the fortune teller isn’t totally uncool.

Sam

The fortune teller was one of the creepiest attractions of the fair to Sam by far. Magic was something that he thought was cool, inspiring even, but that doesn’t mean he wants anything to do with it. Him, Abigail, and Sebastian get their fortunes read every single year, paying attention to whatever has changed, what has and hasn’t come true. It’s fun and sometimes a little scary when things turn out how the fortune teller said it would.

Abigail liked it the most out of the three. The year before he meets you is the first time in a while that his fortune had changed. The woman had said specifically that “someone was coming to the valley that would bring the budding success of his music.” All he really heard then was that his music career was going to take off at some point, and that’s all he really needed to keep working towards his goal.

You hold his arm tightly as you walk around the fair along with Abigail and Sebastian. It’s your first fair since you’ve come to Pelican Town, and Sam is all too willing to show you around. Besides, Pierre was probably going to win the stupid competition, again, and he wanted to be able to support you closely. Not because he has a crush or anything (he does), he’s just a good friend! “We should show the Farmer the fortune teller! See if they get a good one or not!”

This starts your groups trip to the tent. You seem a bit anxious about getting your fortune read, so like the good friend Sam is, he offers to go first and tell everyone his fortune to show you it isn’t so bad.

The woman smiles at him as he enters, and he immediately returns her positive energy. She always said good thing(except when she predicted his father was going to be deployed because of the war) so he liked her. He paid her quickly and watched as the crystal ball begins to glow.

“I see you performing on a small stage, the person who is going to support your music career is front and center. They are going to be the reason that you are performing so passionately. They buy some of your cd’s to help support you.”

He wonders for a second if that’s you. He had been feeling a little more inspired since you came around, and you never hesitated to praise him and his music when you get a chance to listen to him play in his room. “Hmm…I see you in a big house, something is playing on the television. The children seem excited about whatever is playing, so do you and the farmer. They’re smiling so brightly at you, don’t let them lose that light.”

It absolutely has to be you. He wonders what you’re so happy about, and who the kids are. Are they your kids? Maybe his mind is going too far, especially since a relationship wasn’t mentioned.

“The crystal ball is shifting…your father returns from war. He is safe, and unharmed…but he is not the same as he was. It seems that he is unhappy…oh…”

The crystal ball grows dim, maybe the last bit wasn’t totally good, but the rest of it was. He gets to perform, and you’re there cheering him on. His heart thumps as he exits the tent and meets your eyes. The way you’re looking at him is so bright. He feels excitement full his body, he has so much to look forward to.

[otomehoneyybearr]

Kagari Amagase

What Lies Ahead of Connecting the Past and Present

Taglist: @candied-boys

In the country of Kogyoku, it’s said that good things will come to you if the tea leaves stand upright in your brewed tea."

However, when I entered the forest, I encountered Prince Kagari holding a sword in one hand while grabbing a child by the collar with the other.

Emma: "W-What are you doing!?"

???: "......!"

Kagari: "Princess, what a coincidence. What brings you to the forest?"

Emma: "The weather was nice, so I thought I'd take a walk in the... No, what are you planning to do with this child?"

Kagari: "Exactly as you imagined, I was about to give him a quick stab."

Kagari: "He’s the potential cause of future misfortune. He needs to be dealt with before it's too late."

Emma: "A source of misfortune... He looks like a normal child to me. Surely, you must be mistaken."

Kagari: "I wouldn't mistake myself."

Emma: "Yourself?"

(This child has... red hair in braids, green eyes... he’s the spitting image of Prince Kagari.)

???: "...Who are you?"

Emma: "I'm Emma. Can you tell me your name?"

Little Kagari: "...Kagari."

(If he has the same name, then...)

Emma: "Is this a dream?"

Kagari: "If this is a dream, then there shouldn’t be problem with me laying my hands on him, right? No problem at all."

Emma: "No, no, you can’t! If you point your sword at this child again, I won't talk to you anymore."

Kagari: "......"

(Thank goodness... he put his sword away.)

Emma: "Why are you in the forest, Little Kagari? Or was it Big Kagari that brought you here?"

Little Kagari: "I was playing in my brother's room, but before I knew it, I was in the forest."

Little Kagari: "Then as I walked around, I met the adult me."

Little Kagari: "I was impressed because it's the first time I've met someone stronger than me."

(His expression hasn't changed, but his eyes are sparkling a bit... how cute.)

(It’s the first time he’s met someone stronger than himself, huh... Then he was skilled in swordsmanship at such a young age.)

Emma: “I see.... In that case, you might return to your brother’s room after some time passes."

Emma: "How about we stay together until then?"

Little Kagari: "...Is that okay?"

Emma: "Of course."

Kagari: "You’re so optimistic, Princess."

Kagari: "But it's better than wasting time overthinking this impossible situation."

Emma: "You’re staying with us too, Prince Kagari?"

Kagari: "Just to keep an eye on you in case you do something strange."

Kagari: "And because it's convenient."

(Convenient?)

Emma: "I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, but it’s reassuring to have you with us."

Kagari: "Good answer. Let's go."

Emma: "Huh? Where to...? Ah, Prince Kagari, you don't need to pull my hand, I'll follow you."

Emma: "Little Kagari, can I hold your hand?"

Little Kagari: "......?"

Emma: "It would be terrible if you got lost."

Little Kagari: "...Like this?"

Emma: "Yes, thank you."

Little Kagari: "......"

Little Kagari: "...Warm."

.....

Emma: "Wow...! I didn't know there was a festival going on in the nearby town."

Kagari: "You're still new to Kogyoku, so it's only natural."

Kagari: "It's on the smaller side, but do you like it?"

Emma: "Yes!"

(There are so many stalls I've never seen in Rhodolite.)

(Goldfish scooping, ring toss, cherry-flavored tea leaves, bread, dumplings, grilled meat!? I wonder if it's tasty... Ah.)

Emma: "Was that 'convenient' comment from earlier because you planned to invite me to this festival?"

Kagari: "Yes. Although an unexpected stray cat tagged along."

Little Kagari: "...Is that me?"

Kagari: "Yes, you."

Emma: "Oh, please don't put it like that."

Emma: "But thank you. I'm really happy!"

Kagari: "I know."

Little Kagari: "......"

(Little Kagari is looking around a lot.)

Emma: "It would be nice if there's a dorayaki stall around."

Little Kagari: "...Why?"

Emma: "Hm? Don’t you like dorayaki?"

Little Kagari: "...I’ve only ever eaten candy."

Kagari: "I see... he’s from before he met Keith. No wonder."

(So he wasn't a dorayaki fanatic yet at this age.)

(Even so, having only candy for sweets...)

(He doesn't look weak, nor does he seem to dislike sweets, so he might have been raised strictly.)

Emma: "Little Kagari, is this your first festival?"

Little Kagari: "......Yeah. I've seen them from the castle before."

(He's still small, and given his royal status, he probably can't just go out freely.)

(That makes this even more special...)

Emma: "Then let's enjoy it to the fullest today!"

Emma: "Is there any stall that catches your eye?"

Little Kagari: "......No. Anything is fine with me."

Kagari: "There must be something. Speak up."

Little Kagari: "........"

(He seems a bit hesitant.)

(I guess Prince Kagari was the type who had trouble expressing his opinions when he was a child.)

(He's looking around, so there must be something that interests him, just as Prince Kagari said.)

(Maybe I can figure it out by following his gaze.)

Emma: "Ah, you're interested in the candy apples, aren't you?"

Little Kagari: "!"

(Great, that reaction means I got it right.)

.....

Emma: "How's the candied apple?"

Little Kagari: "......It’s tasty. And they're shiny and pretty."

(Haha, he's stuffing his mouth full.)

Little Kagari: "......Want some?"

Emma: "Can I? Just one bite then... mmm, it's sweet and delicious."

Kagari: "If you're going to spoil someone, spoil me, Princess."

Emma: "If I'm going to spoil anyone, I'd like to spoil both of you."

Kagari: "Greedy Princess."

Emma: "Don't sulk. After the candy apple, let's have some dorayaki! Come on, both of you, let's go."

Little Kagari: "......Shall we hold hands?"

Emma: "Can we?"

Little Kagari: "......I want to."

(Gah, the way he looks away as he says it is just too adorable...)

Kagari: "The adult me is cute too."

Emma: "D-Don't read my mind and try to compete with him."

Kagari: "Don't worry, it was just written all over your face."

(Does that mean I had a silly expression? That’s more embarrassing than having my mind read...)

(What, Rain!? Even though it was just sunny...)

Emma: "Let's find somewhere to take shelter from the rain—whoa!"

Little Kagari: ".........!"

Kagari: "Hold still if you don't want to be dropped."

(Prince Kagari is strong enough to carry both me and Little Kagari under his arms while running!?)

Kagari: "The rain should stop soon enough."

Emma: "That's good. I still want to enjoy the festival some more."

Emma: "Little Kagari, you ‘re a bit wet, so let me dry you off with a handkerchief."

Little Kagari: "......It's fine. It'll dry soon."

Emma: "Pretty please? I just really, really want to dry you off!"

Little Kagari: "......Alright."

Little Kagari: "......"

(Oh. Is he happy? Haha, I'm glad to see him showing different expressions little by little.)

Kagari: "........"

Emma: "That should do it. Next is—Prince Kagari!? "

Kagari: "What's the matter, Princess?"

Emma: "I should be asking you that! Why are you standing in the rain!?"

Kagari: "I wanted to be dried off too."

Emma: "I was already going to do that! Anyway, come back under here quickly, or you'll catch a cold."

Kagari: "Oh, you're so being forceful, Princess."

Emma: "I have to be... geez."

(His hair is dripping wet! I need to dry him off quickly.)

Little Kagari: "........"

Kagari: "Being dried off by you feels nice. Makes me want to purr."

Emma: "I'm angry, you know?"

Kagari: "You’re cute even when you’re angry."

Emma: "Um, well, thank you... but don't deliberately get wet in the rain again, okay?"

(Alright, this should be good enough.)

Little Kagari: "... Miss Emma."

(What— just now...)

Emma: "Little Kagari, did you just call my name—wait, how are you even more wet than before!?"

(What happened!?)

(Could it be that he imitated adult Kagari...?)

Little Kagari: "......I want you to dry me again, Miss Emma."

Little Kagari: "It felt warm and cozy."

(I knew it...!)

Emma: "Oh, you'll catch a cold from this kind of coziness!"

Little Kagari: "Wha... you're a bit rougher than before."

Emma: "It’s punishment for being bad.”

Kagari: "Being punished by the Princess... sounds nice."

Emma: "Prince Kagari, don't you dare try getting wet in the rain again—achoo!"

Kagari & Little Kagari:

"........"

Kagari & Little Kagari:

"......Sorry."

"......I’m sorry."

Emma: "......I'm sorry too."

(Hm, getting hugged from both sides to warm me up is so unfair...)

(When you do something this cute, I can't stay mad!)

In the end, I spent a blissful time being warmed up by these spoiled cats until the rain stopped.

▼・ᴥ・▼

[iris-qt]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐

☾ ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☾ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

☾ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ | 2ᴋ

☾ ᴀ/ɴ: ʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏʟʟ (ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ, ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴘᴏʟʟꜱ).

☾ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴɢᴀɢᴇ ɪɴ ɪᴛ. ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ, ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴇᴀʀɴꜱ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

Silly, foolish love.

Regulus seemed to be surrounded by the atrocious thing as love was in bloom at Hogwarts. Valentine’s Day was slowly approaching as February rolled in, blanketing the castle in fresh snow and an air of romantic anticipation.

And Regulus hated it.

He stalked up the endless stairs with his lanky legs to reach the rotted wooden trapdoor that led to the stuffy Divination room. If only the crystal ball would tell him how to drop out of this useless class mid-year. Walking in for the 2nd semester of the year, he saw the little magical name tags Professor Trelawney had enchanted were scrambled.

New seats.

Just fucking wonderful.

He’d gotten used to sitting next to some short, sniveling boy with bad acne and thick glasses. Such a simple, mutual understanding of silence between them. 

Regulus made his way to his new table at the back of the class. At least he could think clearly as he wasn’t seated right next to Trewlany’s five sticks of incense. Leaning over, messy black curls falling over his tired eyes, he peeks at the name on the tag next to him…Y/N. 

The new girl.

He’d never spoken to her but she didn’t seem particularly irritating, so perhaps this would be fine. 

You walk in, one of the last students, and as you take a seat, Regulus notes you smell like the fresh pines of the Forbidden Forest. Not to mention you had a pine leaf stuck in your sweater. His keen detective work led him to the conclusion that there was more to you than he had originally thought. Rather than a wallflower, you were hiding something in those focused eyes.

Those focused eyes that were now trained on him, lighting up as you gave him a little wave.

Regulus nodded in acknowledgment and turned away, letting you know he wasn’t one for small talk in case you hoped to engage in it.

The planets must’ve not been aligned in Regulus’s favor as the topic of today’s class was palm reading; particularly the line that represented love and future relationships. All in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, as Trelawny put it.

She chose the wrong holiday to become festive about.

The thing is, Regulus didn’t believe in love. He believed love was a choice. A choice he tended to avoid. He had made the decision to not get involved at all. Relationships only bring drama and heartbreak and he wanted none of it. None. Of. It. 

Also, his awkwardness welcomed zero aspects of any love, so perhaps he was slightly salty about that.

When the palm reading commenced, you turned to him, flipping your textbook to the correct page.

“It looks like the heart line is right above the head line.”

He raises an eyebrow. “But where’s the head line?”

You smile as you gently take his hand in yours and trace your finger over his heart line on his pale palm. Maybe it was a sensory issue, because his heart stopped and then started racing one thousand beats a second. It was probably just because of nerve endings leading to his heart, right? Basic human anatomy.

“Hm…I’m picking up a vibe…seems like your life shall be…” you look at Regulus, eyes wide for dramatic flare “...full of smiles and hugs! Merlin! Whatever shall you do?”

Regulus can’t help but crack a smile as he attempts to hide it with a disappointed head shake. 

“And here I thought you’d take this seriously.”

“I am dead serious, Black,” you drain your face of emotions as you stare blankly at him.

He can’t help but let out a stifled laugh as his heart picks up again. This cannot be good. He must be sick. Flu season, right?

Regulus recovered from his supposed illness by the next morning as he woke up early; washing himself with ice cold water to maintain his control and balance throughout the day. The air outside was crisp and the unrelenting chill of winter was chasing the occasional snowflakes that decided to fall. 

Perfect weather for a rejuvenating morning walk.

Truthfully, he hoped the cold would numb his spontaneous thoughts of Y/N. One little interaction and he was already spiraling.

No matter.

Everything was under control.

Until he saw you, bundled up in an endless number of layers, sitting by the lake with a little tray of watercolors, your hair gently blowing in the breeze. He just knew your nose would be a rosy shade and it’s as if his heart began an override autopilot of his body, moving his legs toward you. Of course, he was just curious as to why you were painting out in this bleak weather. Of course, it was plain curiosity. Nothing more. 

His quiet steps were given away by the frosty ground, and you looked up as he approached, his ink black hair decorated with various snowflakes, blowing around his face..

“Morning Regulus, here for another palm reading?” you grin seeing him roll his eyes. He hesitates as he doesn’t know whether he should ask before he sits down next to you. You gently pat the frosted grass next to you and he quietly takes a seat; knees to his chest.

“I don’t know if a thin black robe is the best attire for this weather, Black.”

“Hm..I suppose next time I’ll bring 20 sweaters like you,” he hums, giving you a small, lopsided smile. You scoff teasingly as you unwrap your large wool scarf from your neck, putting it around his shivering form. He looks at you with a shimmering yet unreadable emotion, before he pulls his gaze from your rosy, frigid nose to the small, pocket sized canvas you’re holding.

Your art was simplistic, yet heavenly. The soft pastel shades of the water colors blended together in perfect harmony, capturing the ethereal atmosphere of this cold, February morning. The lake shimmered with an azure shade which escaped into the baby blue tint of the cloudy sky.

You caught him staring and dug into your messenger bag, pulling out another tiny canvas and a spare brush.

“Paint with me”

He blinked at you, your gentle and inviting manner a foreign language to him. He always welcomed loneliness, but in your presence, he didn’t think being alone would ever feel the same. He’d always be yearning for someone. A specific someone. 

Merlin, he was in deep.

They sat there in a comfortable silence; the only sounds consisted of the lake lapping onto the shore and whispers of the winter winds. Regulus could get used to this. He began painting the scene, hoping to impress you with his professional art; a product of his years of art lessons with the best of the best. But he would never capture the moment like you did. Perhaps it was the lack of artistic “rules” with which you painted that made it so perfect. Perhaps it was the fact that it was you who painted it that made it so perfect. 

For perfection makes perfection.

So imagine his happiness when you gifted him your little canvas after the morning paint session. Regulus was truly at a loss for words but managed to pipe out a weak “thank you” as he gently held the little canvas as if it were a fragile artifact. He gave himself a mental reminder to learn various protective charms to perform on the small painting. Perhaps buy an impenetrable golden chamber for it? No. Platinum.

Valentine’s Day commenced with a flurry of sappy couples and atrocious public displays of affection. Regulus would’ve stayed holed up in his dorm, but how could he miss a trip to Hogsmeade? He needed to stock up on swan feather quills and dark chocolate frogs.

Yes, of course, Regulus had thought about you and perhaps conveying his feelings on this day reserved for love, but he’d rather not ruin the one beautiful thing in his life. Ever since that one early morning, you and him had been painting basically everyday. Those painting sessions are what made Regulus excited to wake up in the morning. But he wasn’t sure if you harbored the same feelings. 

Truthfully, if love was a choice, Regulus wouldn’t choose to love you. It was beautiful, yes. But it was heart wrenching; his stomach constantly felt like a twisting storm while your eyes sang a siren song that would soon bring him to his demise against the sharp rocks of love. 

That is why he pondered just releasing his emotions and letting you know his affections towards you. But Regulus was nothing if not afraid. 

Afraid of losing you.

Stupid love.

As he made his way into Hogsmeade, he noticed you strolling around with your best friend, laughing. You made eye contact with him as you gave him a little wave and a small smile. He briskly looked away as if you could read his conflicting thoughts about you behind his eyes and walked off.

Strange.. You thought.

After running his errands, Regulus decided to head back. Per usual, Valentine’s Day was a flop. They didn’t even have dark chocolate frogs in stock. Regulus sighed as he began walking back. He immediately paused in his steps as he noticed you at a pop-up flower stand, making a bouquet of white flowers. Ranunculus? Yes, it was a bouquet of Ranunculus. He had studied flower language as part of his private tutoring growing up. They represented charm and attraction. 

Charm and attraction?

Who were you charmed and attracted by? Because it certainly wasn’t him. 

Regulus scoffs to himself as he walks off, attempting to push away the gnawing feeling in his stomach. 

Until he hears your sparkling voice calling his name.

You run up to him across the frozen ground, a bouquet of Ranunculus in your hand. Quite unfortunately, the icy ground causes you to slip, and as you fall, Regulus catches you, your face pressed against his chest which is adorned with your scarf. His heart was racing so fast you were concerned he could be having a heart attack. You steady yourself, straightening your beanie, an embarrassed look on your face which immediately turns to a crestfallen expression as you notice the now crushed flowers. 

“Fuck…”

You felt like crying.

Your sadness was contagious as Regulus couldn’t bear to see his beautiful girl upset over anything. He quickly muttered a spell which brought the flowers back to life. Yes, he just  encouraged Y/N’s romantic pursuits towards another person by doing so, but if that’s what made you happy, he’d give it to you. 

Your face broke into a smile as you glanced to the side, a bit shaken at this bump in the road. 

“Thanks for saving my face from destruction, Reggie.”

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” He smiled, always enjoying their exchanges. 

With all the insecure thoughts buzzing in your head, you decided to kill them off once and for all, and pushed the bouquet of flowers towards Regulus, unable to make eye contact with his calculating eyes. You didn’t want to see them calculate just how much of an idiot your infatuation with him made you.

“For you.”

Regulus blinked, unable to comprehend what was going on. Maybe she hit her head against his bony chest a bit too hard. He stood there gaping, as still as a rock.

You took that as a sign he wasn’t interested, and, with an internal sigh, turned the other way, looking skyward to chase the tears away. Flowers hanging limp in your hand, you were about to walk away, when you felt Regulus’s soft grip on your wrist as he coaxed you back to him.

Regulus was beaming in a way that was slightly unsettling and heart warming at the same time. There was something about seeing one’s true grin for the first time. And it was purely contagious as you grinned back at him like a lovesick fool.

Silly, foolish love.

[norrisleclercf1]

Day 12 of 25 Days of Christmas: Winter Wonderland Get Away

Pairing: Jenson Button x Reader

Words: 605

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Slightly Suggestive

Drobak, Norway.

That's where you currently were, in this gorgeous cabin nestled in the snow-covered hills of Drobak, Norway. The snow fell gently outside, the air filled with the crisp scent of pine from the nearby forest. The giant fireplace roared, its warmth and crackling sound comforting as you watched out the large window to see people below shopping and enjoying the Christmas theme of the town. The delicate and intricate snowflakes danced in the air, adding to the festive atmosphere. This is what they called Christmas time year-round, as Dorbak looked just like Christmas, and they couldn't have been happier to be surprised with this gift.

"You should be sleeping," A soft voice whispers in your ear. You lean back into the familiar chest of your husband, Jenson, a tall man with a kind smile and warm eyes, and reach up, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders and placing it with his short, dirty blonde hair. "I know, but it's too gorgeous to look away from," You hum gently, making Jenson smile against your temple as he sits behind you, tugging you close.

"You always dreamed of a Christmas like this, so I reached out to some friends for recommendations. They suggested this place, and I'm glad I listened for once," Jenson quips, making you smile and lean into him, almost in his lap, as you watch the gentle snowfall. The memories of your shared dreams about a cozy Christmas setting flood your mind, creating a deep sense of connection and a renewed hope for the future.

"Thank you," you whisper, making him hum as his fingers dig into your hair and kiss you gently. The kiss moves from slow to hurry as he lies you down on the bed, making you smile into it. He and you quickly remove your clothes.

You and Jenson lie in the bed, cocooned in numerous blankets and furs, the lights out but the town below still twinkling into the night. You hold his hand, savoring the comforting feel of it in yours. It always felt right to have it there, never awkward or sweaty, but it grounded you in a way you loved and cherished significantly. Jenson was softly sleeping behind you, his little snores gently moving your hair, making you giggle at how ticklish it was. The physical comfort of the warm blankets and the sound of Jenson's snores make you feel incredibly cozy and content.

Turning over, you remove his hand and touch his face with yours. He wasn't as young as he used to be when you first met, but he aged rather nicely, which didn't matter to you. His heart and passions stayed the same, and you always loved how he stood true to his beliefs and the world's truths. The depth of your emotional connection with Jenson fills you with a profound sense of love and appreciation.

He always tried his best to spoil you and show you how he truly loved you, and sometimes words weren't enough; for him, whisking you off to somewhere romantic to spend Christmas is when he shows he truly loves you. You still remember all those years ago in a cramped hotel room in some random country when you told him about this dream; it was once a fleeting memory you didn't even remember until he brought it up.

Jenson steers slightly but then settles, tugging you closer, "I can hear your thoughts," He whispers, making you smile and tuck yourself into him, "Good, that means you know what I want for next year," You smile, and Jenson hums, "Don't worry, got it covered,"

[byeeizzy]

Random facts about all the 11 shittens!

Adaliah: wants to leave the cult to explore the world, Nari didn't like and they ended up having a discussion (she went anyway)

Amaya: She loves to dance,big parties, being the center of attention She helps her Baba (Lamb) with the cult festivities

Alkaios: he is very shy, He has been courted by many of the cultists, but he always ends up running away blushing without giving an answer

Amiri: the devil herself, they will be hiding in the shadows just waiting to cause some chaos, be careful he bites

Ayden: They sees Adaliah as an inspiration, he thinks she is the best sister in the world! he loves reading about the ancient bishops and rituals, He likes to try rituals when he's alone and always ends up invoking something unintentionally

Aurora: She has been blind since she was born, but dreams about future situations, she is the middle triplet (The triplets being Ayden,Aurora and Aziel)

Aziel: He had both of his eyes cut out by a heretic in the forest, he went out without permission to gather fruits and flowers and was found by one of the followers, Nari had flashbacks of his past with Leshy and felt that this was punishment for his past actions, Fortunately his third eye still works kinda well

Amy: She loves spending her time drawing and playing with the children at the cult,One of the sisters who spends the most time with Allani

Alora: She is mute and communicates with her family with a sign language they invented, with others she simply draws

Aylin: she is very bossy, likes to collect shiny things She acts like that but she's just an insecure kitten

Allani: The little princess of the family, she bites everything in sight (which ends up being her siblings tails) she is just a baby

[crimethinc]

Drone footage shows that Brent Scarborough Company has begun clearcutting the Weelaunee forest in Atlanta, Georgia. The city government has overseen the murder of Tortuguita, the charging of dozens of activists with terrorism for as little as occupying a tree or attending a music festival, and now they are hurrying to destroy the forest before a public reckoning can take place.

As species go extinct by the thousand, as hurricanes and forest fires and other disasters exacerbated by climate change tear through your community, when you find yourself living in a concrete wasteland, remember—none of this was inevitable. These tragedies are the direct consequence of the decisions of self-seeking politicians, corporate profiteers, and armed mercenaries—specific individuals who have names and addresses. They are making the earth uninhabitable in pursuit of what they imagine to be their personal gain, imposing the consequences on the rest of us.

We owe it to the future of all living things to stop them.

https://crimethinc.com/ForestintheCity

[florencemtrash]

Flame, Shadow, Beast : Flame

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Fluffy Eris x Reader and our favorite monster, Bryaxis, makes an appearance.

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was a cruel irony that winning a war was the easiest part of ruling. Eris thought about it often, doubts invading his rare moments of quiet; Maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe the lives of thousands of Autumn Court members - both those loyal to him and to his father - hadn’t been worth the weight of the crown now sitting on his head.

The wood and gold had been harvested from the body of one of the Old Gods to whom some of the rural folk still owed their ultimate allegiance; the rubies had come from a land beyond the western seas as a declaration of war back when they’d been ruled by a more ancient race of beings - the predecessors to the Blood Rubies the Summer Court was so fond of doling out. Eris wondered if he’d ever get used to carrying so much history on his body. 

The sun had barely crested over the treetops, blanketing the forest floor with streams of liquid gold, when he came across your village. The first fae he saw - a female with short elk horns extending gracefully from her temples - nearly dropped her basket at the sight of him. Eris gently bowed his head in greeting and her face flushed as crimson as the red garment dye that stained her hands. 

“My High Lord,” She breathed out, dropping to her knees despite the prickling straw that perpetually littered the roads.

Heads of varying shades of chestnut and scarlet appeared behind closed windows like candlights. During the harvest months everyone woke and slept with the sun. 

One by one fae streamed out of their homes, each of them carrying tribute in the form of freshly baked bread, baskets of apples and peaches, sheepskin cloaks, and barrels of mead. 

“Stand.” Eris gently commanded them as they fell to their knees, “We’re just passing through.” He could see the hesitation in their eyes. They feared disrespecting him. 

Eight years of being High Lord and he had yet to perfect the delicate balance between distance and familiarity with his people. 

Halvor coughed from beside him, eyes raised from beneath the shadow of his bronze helm.

Get off your horse and talk to them. His eyes said, repeating the mantra that you liked to say around the royal pair.

Eris understood and dismounted with grace and power. With his scarlet and gold riding cloak, flaming hair, and ruby crown he looked like the spirit of Autumn come to life - all sharp edges and burning stoicism. He was a living fire.

But fire could give warmth as much as pain - nurture and grow as much as it could raze the world to the ground. So Eris took his time to speak with the people. He sampled their mead and ale, complimented the pixies who wove threads of warm oranges, yellows, and reds with their nimble fingers, and visited the rolling fields of corn, barley, and wheat that waved in the brisk breeze. The gray-tinged sky above tasted of power and freedom. 

Under Beron’s reign, the fruits of the fields would have fallen entirely under the purview of the High Lord with little remaining for the people who tended the long grasses. Now that they were allowed to own their own land and keep what was due to them, the air was lighter here, happier. It was the first harvest in a long time where they’d feel comfortable enough to celebrate properly.

The mask ebbed away, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in ages as he walked through a town.

A familiar face stared out from behind the small crowd that had gathered by the wheat fields. Talk of this year’s harvest festival rose in the air until everyone could taste the spiced rum, roasted pistachios, caramelized apples, and pumpkin with fresh cream on their tongues. It was still months away, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get excited now. 

Eris broke away - an easy task when they parted ways for him like a hot knife through butter - and approached your smiling figure.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long.” You said, clasping your hands behind your back and smiling at Eris.

“So you came all this way just to investigate?” Eris arched his brow. You were no stranger to these people (and much beloved), but you preferred to keep to your little cottage beyond the town.

“Surprisingly, yes. For you, I would come all this way. And,” You shook the small parcel in your arm, “For Aliona’s candles.”

He grinned and offered you his arm, which you accepted, and quietly began to walk back to where Halvor had been dutifully waiting with the horses… and taking more than a few samples of drinks from beside his stead. 

“I also wanted to make sure he hadn’t killed you in your sleep yet.” You said, tilting your head towards his brother. 

“Careful, Y/n.”

Halvor was the youngest of Autumn’s trueborn sons, and had grown to become Eris’s second over the course of the war and the years that followed. Cruelty was still hammered into his bones - a disfiguring mark left by their father - but disloyalty was not one of his many negative traits. He’d been the only one to come to Eris’s aid in the war, and subsequently the last of Eris’s brothers to survive. That counted for something in your book.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it seriously, but I could’ve poked fun in a better way.” You said softly, gently leaning into his side. He forgave you quickly. He could never stay angry at you - he wasn’t even sure it was possible.

Halvor tipped his head towards you, eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee staring at you with mischief.

“My Lady.” He said half-mockingly, sweeping out his arm into a shallow bow. 

You rolled your eyes. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“Why not? Is my brother not a good enough romp for you? If you want better company I could-” 

Eris cut off his words with a growl of warning. Halvor only tipped his head back and laughed - a grating sound that eight years of peace under Eris’s rule still hadn’t managed to file away.

“We’ll be walking to her home from here.” Eris said, slipping into his High Lord voice, “Try and keep your distance and be on the lookout.” Halvor nodded, turning serious at the shift in his brother’s voice. There were countless enemies who would be happy to snatch the crown away from a new, as of yet untested, High Lord.

He followed obediently, keeping his distance as you and Eris both bade farewell to the townspeople. 

You lived on a patch of land too far to even be considered the outskirts of town, but you were a familiar face to everyone. A healer by trade and Eris’s most trusted advisor and friend, you were the one they called upon in the dead of night when evil whispered nearby or sickness fell upon them. 

Evaldre, they called you in one of the Old Tongues. The exact meaning had been lost to time, but it spoke of someone cherished and highly regarded. Some of the bold ones even went so far as to call you “Our High Lady.” 

Ten years ago uttering those words would have meant the swift swing of a sword on one’s neck. If High Lord Eris knew of it, he never seemed to mind.

Bryaxis waited for you on your doorstep, pleasantly lounging in a patch of light and watching the gentle fall of crisp leaves from the trees above. Both Eris and Halvor’s horses groaned low in their throats, hooves pressing into the soil to stop before the clearing. Halvor whistled at them to move forward, but they refused.

“It’s that devil dog of yours,” Halvor said, dismounting and tying off the pair on a low hanging elm branch, “Makes them anxious.”

He whispered words of comfort to them, sliding his hands along their thick necks until they stopped bucking against the reins. Eris had his dogs and Halvor had his horses.

“He’ll stay inside then. Wouldn’t want you to have to walk back to the Forest House with your tail between your legs because you lost the horses.”

Eris smirked when Halvor threw an obscene gesture your way. 

The dog in question, black as night with shining silver-blue eyes, stretched and nuzzled into your outstretched hand as you reached your front door, Eris following closely behind. 

“Will you be long?” Halvor called out to Eris, raising his eyebrows suggestively with his hyena grin. 

“Go home if you’re so impatient. I can make it back on my own.”

“I’ll wait til noon.” If Eris was finished by then, it would mean they took care of business… if Eris wasn’t finished by then, it would mean they were taking care of other business, business Halvor would do no good sticking around for. He snorted at the thought, then lost himself in imagining the other females he might be able to seduce back at the Forest House.

You both passed through the enchantments woven into the wood of your home, feeling a rush of power pour over you like water over stone. 

Eris snapped his fingers and the candles you’d placed on your dining table and mantle burst to life, fluttering about like dancers. The fireplace followed suit, sending a wave of warmth throughout the house. Firelight bounced off the rich velvet and creams that adorned your home - a cleaner mimic of the Autumn lands that existed behind the walls and flooded in through the open windows.

The Forest House was a place of luxury, massive enough that it would take you an entire morning just to walk from one end to another, and filled to the brim with treasures of gold, bronze, and enough precious jewels to sink a ship. It was a palace fit for a High Lord. But this was a home, so he took off his crown and hung up his cloak.

“What happened to him?” Eris said, kneeling on the ground and giving Bryaxis a well-deserved scratch behind the ears. The millennia-old creature closed his eyes in satisfaction. “The last time I saw him he was a cat.”

You chuckled, bustling about in the kitchen for a tea set that would match and piling pastries on a plate. The smell of browned butter and strawberry rhubarb jam waltzed in the air.

“He’s been experimenting with new forms.” You said, smugness and pride warming your chest. Not so long after Eris had freed you from the mountain and given you a new home, Bryaxis had found you, drawn to your power. Twin bargain tattoos snaked up from the bridges of your feet to your ankles like vines up a trellis - the first promised that you would do no harm to one another in exchange for dual protection, the second allowed you to take a portion of his power, giving him to opportunity to mold his being into a form that could experience the world in a more physical sense. 

Gone was the shapeless creature of shadow and nightmares. Enter Bryaxis the wolf-dog (and occasional housecat) who still radiated enough power to scare away any creature (wicked or otherwise) that dared to disturb the peace of their home. But he could curl up by the windows and watch the night sky uninhibited, and in his heart he was a creature of violence and simplicity in equal measure.

“I like this one better than the cat.” Eris said with a grin, for the monster had copied the shape of one of his prized hunting dogs. Bryaxis seemed to growl in appreciation when Eris straightened up.

He sighed in contentment, feeling the stress of his crown melt away when you wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of cedar, smoke, and cinnamon.

“Hello.” He murmured softly, turning in your arms and pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Hello.” You whispered, brushing your lips against his with a sigh, “I missed you. Where have you been all this time?” The finished reports on your desk, much like your empty bed, had been waiting patiently for Eris’s next visit.

He hesitated, pulling away to look at you. He brushed aside a few stray strands of hair that had fallen out of your braid. “The Night Court.”

You stiffened, “Keir?” 

He shook his head, frowning, “Rhysand.” 

You blinked, and he saw darkness pass through your eyes. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.” 

Twelve years. 

You’d been Beron’s prisoner for decades before. Then you’d escaped and managed a couple of years of peace. You’d found a home and a family… or so you thought. And then twelve years ago you’d been betrayed - handed back to the now deceased High Lord on a silver platter and trapped beneath the mountain for four years. It made your blood boil to think about the people who helped put you there. 

“You’ve been dealing with them for years now,” You forced out in a diplomatic tone, “It’s good for you to have allies, especially strong ones like them.”

“Y/n-”

“You should've told me. I don’t want you to worry about my feelings when it comes to these things. Autumn comes first and-”

“I’ll always worry about you.” Eris said, tilting your chin up and catching the moisture gathering in your eyes that you’d furiously tried to blink away, “And there’s no choice between you and my Court. You belong here. To protect Autumn - to protect you - are the same thing, my love.” 

Your cheeks burned at the careful way he spoke, the sincerity in his voice he reserved solely for you in moments like this.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Y/n. I promise it won't happen again."

Fury burned in his stomach, a continuation of the anger that had steadily been eating away at his patience during his visit to the Night Court. To see the Inner Circle look so safe and happy in the bubble they’d carved for themselves in Velaris, naive to the pain and suffering they’d caused you, had made him want to burn The House of Wind to the ground. Alliance be damned. 

He hated them nearly as much as he had hated his own father. 

“I don’t want to think about them.” You declared, setting your jaw and smoothing away the lines of anger that had formed on Eris’s forehead, “To hell with them.” 

Eris smirked, loving the determination that settled in your eyes as you dragged him over to the living room and finished setting up the tea that had started to whistle on the stovetop. You would carve out a space for yourself in this world and be happy, even if it killed you.

“To hell with them.” He repeated.

Business and pleasure. The two were impossible for him to separate, which is why he cherished time spent with you. The pair of you spoke easily together, seamlessly transitioning from discussions of grain reports, treaties, and trade deals to banter about the Harvest Festival and the latest court gossip. Halvor was long gone, and Bryaxis off hunting, when the talking ceased and Eris found himself comfortably spread out on your velvet couch, shirt unbuttoned, and head resting in your lap as you wove your fingers through his hair.

He opened his eyes, lazy and slow, and quietly took in your features - the slope of your nose, the gentle curves of your cheeks and lips as you smiled at him, the contentment in your eyes that shifted into deep thought. 

He waited for you to share them with him.

“I’ve been thinking about your proposal.” You said carefully and he froze beneath your hands.

“You-you have?” Eris swallowed and sat up, keeping his distance even as he dared to hope. You’d both been keeping your relationship secret, visiting each other under the guise of court business and court business only. It had certainly started out that way, but things had quickly shifted into something far more intimate and worthy of secrecy… Then Eris had asked if it could stop being so secret.

You nodded, searching his face for something more than the neutral mask every High Lord learned to master. 

You moved onto his lap, laying your hands on the sides of his face as his eyes widened ever so slightly, “My answer is yes.” 

“Yes?” He asked in disbelief. 

Yes to living with him. Yes to going to court with him. Yes to showing the world that he was not alone in his duty. Yes to being by his side wherever either of you went.

No more hiding in this house on the outskirts. No more being afraid of what had happened in the past. No more loneliness.

“Yes.” 

He shuddered under your touch and suddenly he was everywhere. His hands roamed the expanse of your back, pulling at the fabric of your bodice. Red locks as vivid as flame got knotted beneath your fingers, and his body pressed flush against yours, desperate for any contact as his chest continued to shake with laughter. 

You stayed with him on that couch, neither of you wanting to bother with the effort of walking the extra twenty steps to your bedroom, as articles of clothing were hastily torn off and allowed to float onto the floor in crumples of fabric.

A growl from just outside your front door, low and gravelly enough to shake the ground, woke the two of you up. The sun was kissing the horizon on its way down, lateral rays of light streaming through the window and splashing onto the bookshelves and walls like gold paint. Eris groaned with displeasure, pulling you flush against his chest when you dared to draw yourself up on your arms to look at the door. 

You giggled against him, pulling a rare smile from his lips when he felt your laughter. 

He was all warmth and color beneath you as you shouted at Bryaxis to give you more time alone. He could practically hear the rolling of eyes with the huff that Bryaxis gave out. But he eventually trotted away to find a patch of soft grass from which to watch the sun set.

“It’s good to know a murderous beast like him still has a sense of humor.” Eris quipped, practically humming with pleasure when you melted into him. “You would know. You can be funny sometimes.” 

“Sometimes?!”

“Sometimes!” 

“You must give me more credit than that.”

“I will not.”

“You must. Your High Lord demands it.” Eris said, puffing out his chest and deepening his voice.

“Your High Lord demands it.” You parroted in a silly voice that made Eris chuckle and kiss you again.

You laid in the silence for as long as you could, until the sun was once again buried in the ground and the calls of the Forest House could not be ignored. With every piece of clothing Eris pulled back on his body, the vulnerable joy that came from being with you seemed to dim. 

Was he a lovesick fool for asking you to come to court and be with him? Was the protection of a High Lord worth the dangers that came with it? Lucien had been the first of their brothers to fall in love and he had paid for it dearly. Sometimes Eris had nightmares that you would suffer the same fate.

Eris watched you as you laced up your bodice with quick fingers, fixed your hair, and smoothed your skirts. You looked heavenly in the light of the fire. You were everything he could have dreamed of and more… because you were real… and you loved him as fiercely as he loved you. Which meant he could lose you.

“Y/n.” He whispered your name like a prayer, drawing your attention. You drew close to him, pressing your forehead against his as he took a deep breath, “What you’re agreeing to… you know what it will mean, don’t you?”

You closed your eyes and nodded. This was no light decision and it was why you’d taken three months to come up with an answer for him. 

“It will mean people will come for me, and never stop coming for me, just to hurt you and to hurt this Court.” Eris flinched, but you wouldn’t let him open his mouth to dissuade you. You’d given this much thought, and your decision was made.

“It will mean constant scrutiny from the other Lords and Ladies. A life spent in a house known for its history of cruelty and disloyalty. A life that will never fully be my own.”

Eris was beginning to think he’d truly made a terrible mistake in asking you to be with him. But before that cold mask of his could fall over his features, you grasped his face in yours hands and forced him to look at you.

“But it will also mean a chance to be with you. A chance to lead alongside the first person to give me a real home - a real family. A chance to continue to build and protect what I love. I love you, Eris, and I love Autumn, and I’ll be damned if I don’t protect what I love.”

Eris clenched his teeth, holding back the emotion that threatened to spill out like a ruptured damn.

“I won’t be like this at the Forest House.” He said, hating the truth of the words that fell off his tongue, “I won’t be able to show who I truly am when I’m around others, at least not for now. They’ll call you foolish, or cruel, or wicked for being with me. I can’t promise you an established and worthy court. I-”

“Then we’ll build it ourselves.” You said fiercely, pouring your power into the words, “We’ll build a new court, a new life for ourselves and everyone here. I know you’ll do everything you can to fix things, even if it breaks you.” You whispered the next words reverently against his lips, “Let me help you. Let me do it with you.” 

Eris let the tears run rivers down his cheeks, even as he set his jaw, and stared resolutely into your eyes.

“Let’s do it then. Together.”

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______

Author's note:

*shouts from the mountaintops* I just want Eris to be happy! And I want him to have someone he trusts that can rule alongside him!

That's it. That's the note. Oh and let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters.

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy

[elizabeth-holland24]

The Beast Within - Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a boy born for great things, cradled by golden light and praised by the lips of many. From the moment he took his first breath, the world seemed to expect greatness from him—a prince with the weight of his family’s legacy resting heavy on his young shoulders. He was destined to be perfect, to lead with grace and power. Yet, though he was admired by all, the one thing he was never shown was love.

His parents, noble and proud, were distant figures, preoccupied with the kingdom and their own ambitions. The boy grew up in a palace filled with treasures but devoid of warmth. When his parents died in a mysterious accident, that sense of duty became a suffocating burden. Left to rule in their absence, the boy had no choice but to wear the mask of strength. And so, with each passing year, he became more of a prince in name than in heart, handsome and charming on the outside, but hollow within.

As he grew into a young man, wealth, power, and admiration swirled around him like an unrelenting storm. He had it all, and yet, it was never enough. His desires were insatiable—more fame, more women, more distractions to fill the void in his soul. His heart, untouched by true kindness, grew colder with each passing year. If only he had been wiser, more compassionate, perhaps his fate would have been different.

It was on the night of one of his grand masquerade balls that everything changed. His palace was alive with music and laughter, nobles dancing in the opulence of his court, celebrating the future king. But Jake Seresin, the dashing prince known to all as Hangman, was nowhere to be found amidst the revelry.

High above the celebrations, on the balcony of his tower, Jake stood alone, staring at the horizon as if seeking an answer in the distant stars.

"It's strange, isn't it, Bradley?" Jake murmured, his voice low and tired. "I have everything a man could want, yet when I look out there, I feel like I have nothing. People have always swirled around me like snowflakes—each one free, each one melting away before I can grasp them. Always wanting something from me, but never really seeing me."

Bradley, his ever-loyal friend, sighed beside him. "You can dwell on it later, Jake. Right now, you're their Hangman. You have to be what everyone expects—the prince your parents raised you to be. That's your destiny."

Jake hummed in response, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. His gaze wavered for a moment, uncertainty creeping into his expression—a rare vulnerability. In truth, something about the night felt different, unsettling. For the first time, he felt juberous, caught between the life he had always known and a nagging sense that something darker, something irreversible, was looming just beyond the horizon.

With a resigned swig of his drink, he pulled his mask over his face. "Then let’s show them just how good a prince I can be."

As the party below raged on, Jake descended into the crowd, his presence electrifying the room. True to form, he became the Hangman everyone admired—arrogant, reckless, and magnetic. He danced and drank, flirting with ladies, exchanging shallow pleasantries with nobles, all feeding his growing ego. Yet beneath the mask, the emptiness gnawed at him, the void deepening with every hollow laugh.

But as the clock struck midnight, a heavy knock echoed through the hall, silencing the festivities. The grand doors creaked open, revealing an old man, weathered and frail, his eyes tired but wise.

"Your Highness," the man said, his voice barely a whisper. "I seek your help. My horse has left me stranded in the forest, and I am too weak to continue my journey. I ask only for shelter and a small kindness. In return, I offer you my eternal gratitude—and this rose."

For a moment, silence blanketed the room, until it was shattered by laughter, sharp and mocking, echoing from every corner of the hall. Jake stepped forward, his lips curling in disdain.

"Do you think a rose and your gratitude will repay me for this interruption? You’ve ruined my party, old man. Get out before you make things worse."

With a flick of his hand, Jake motioned to the guards, who moved to drag the old man away. But before they could reach him, the air in the room shifted—a cold, biting wind swirling through the hall as a blinding light filled the space. When it dimmed, the old man was gone, and in his place stood a towering figure, his eyes glowing like shards of ice.

"You are deceived by your own heart of stone," the figure intoned, his voice a deep, reverberating echo. "For your cruelty, you and all within this palace are cursed. Until the day you learn to love and be loved in return, you shall remain a beast, hidden from the world you once ruled."

The curse fell like a heavy shroud, consuming the castle and its inhabitants. The prince—now twisted into a form that matched his cold, selfish soul—was forgotten by the world. The kingdom moved on, unaware of the boy who had once been its pride.

And so, Jake was left to wander the desolate halls, his reflection unrecognizable, his heart burdened with doubt. Time passed, and though the world forgot, the curse remained. The prince and his court were trapped, waiting for the one thing he had always pushed away—true, selfless love.

A/N: So here is the prologue, I hope you like it and are excited as I am. Thank you all for the love and support. Please comment, like or reblog to show me that you're liking it also, feel free to comment or text me your theories as to which character is going to be playing who in the original tale. See you next time <3

[crimsonstonetranslations]

Shinrei Tantei Yakumo Short Stories - summer festival

Shinrei Tantei Yakumo novel translation

Short Stories - summer festival

(JP-EN Translation by @cleverwolfpoetry - Editing & Scans by Zel)

( other short stories )

[Originally published as a prize booklet for Kaminaga Manabu's 15th anniversary celebration as a writer]

Greetings from Kaminaga Manabu

Thanks to your support, I have reached the milestone of 15 years. I will continue to write more in the future. Wait for it, there's more to come! — Kaminaga Manabu

Commemorative short story - Shinrei Tantei Yakumo

summer festival

-

Haruka was climbing up a steep slope — .

The sun was beginning to set, and the sky was tinted with vermilion. She thought it would be colder in the evening, but she was naive. A stifling heat rose from the asphalt.

Wiping away her sweat, Haruka climbed the hill and caught her breath at the tower gate of the temple.

It was only yesterday that Isshin had called her.

“Actually, I have a favour to ask you, Haruka-chan — ” Isshin began.

Apparently, he was supposed to take Nao to a festival, but something urgent came up, so he had asked her to take Nao with her instead.

Isshin had been looking out for her every now and then. Besides, she hadn't seen Nao for a while, so she readily agreed and travelled all the way here.

She walked through the gravel garden to the front of the priest quarters and was about to press the intercom by the entrance when the front door was opened vigorously.

The face that emerged from the door was Nao's.

Recognising Haruka’s figure, Nao smiled brightly and ran up to her.

“Nao-chan. Good evening — ”

Haruka hugged Nao tightly as she greeted her.

“Why are you here?”

Yakumo's grumpy voice interrupted Haruka, who was holding Nao for the first time in a long time.

When she looked, she saw Yakumo standing there, with an indolent air.

“Why? ... Because Isshin-san asked me to do him a favour. He wants me to take Nao-chan to the festival ...”

Upon hearing Haruka's explanation, Yakumo let out a big sigh.

“It’s not necessary …”

“Not necessary?”

“I was also asked by my uncle. He said he wanted me to take Nao to the festival.”

Yakumo scratched his bedhead in annoyance.

“Why did Isshin-san ask me to do the same?”

If Yakumo were to bring Nao to the festival, there would have been no need for Isshin to go out of his way to contact Haruka.

What should I do? — While a worried Haruka pondered, Nao ran out, jumping up and down happily.

“Nao-chan, wait.”

Haruka began to walk, dragged along by Nao.

Meanwhile, Yakumo seemed to be troubled by the situation for a while, but in the end, he reluctantly followed suit.

The festival was held at a shrine surrounded by forests — .  

The path leading to the shrine was lined with the sound of festival music and stalls like takoyaki, yakisoba, goldfish scooping, and target shooting, crowded with people. 

It gave the feeling of summer.

Nao was all smiles and seemed to be having a great time.

The girl looked particularly interested in the goldfish scooping. Haruka bent down next to Nao and together they tried to catch goldfish.

She couldn't catch a single fish, but Nao managed to catch four, much to her delight.

Looking casually next to her, Haruka saw Yakumo standing there with a sulky look on his face, as if the world was ending.

I don't know what's bothering him, but he's been like this the entire time. He hasn’t said a word even before coming here.

“Hey, why don't you have some fun?”

I went all the way here to come to a festival with Nao, but this only halves the enjoyment.

“I'm just here as a chaperone. There's no need to have fun.”

“What's with that?”

“Why did you come in the first place?”

“Because Isshin-san asked me to ...”

“I didn't ask for this. She only needs one guardian.”

She'd thought she'd better not say too much in front of Nao, but being told that, she couldn't take it anymore.

“I understand. I should go back, right?”

She thought it was childish, but she couldn't help but raise her voice.

— Why did it get like this?

It was too late to regret it now. Haruka meant to leave after saying a few words to Nao, but more importantly, she couldn't find her.

“Huh? Where's Nao-chan?”

Haruka asked, and Yakumo seemed to have noticed Nao's absence as well. He looked around several times, but could not find her, probably because she was mixed up with other people. 

“Um, excuse me. Do you know where the girl who was here just now went?”

Haruka asked the man at the goldfish scooping stall.

“I don't know. Before I knew it, she was no longer here.”

The old man shrugged his shoulders.

— This is bad!

She made a rustling sound and turned white.

Nao, who was only seven years old, was lost all by herself. Moreover, she suffered from hearing impairment.

“I'll look this way. You look over there.” Yakumo looked ghastly pale but pointed towards the shrine.

“All right.” Haruka rushed out as soon as she gave a reply.

— Nao-chan. Where are you?

Haruka searched for Nao, her eyes moving carefully but quickly. It wasn't far to the shrine, but there were so many people that she couldn't advance as far as she would have liked.

She bumped into people repeatedly, apologising, and tried to ask if they had seen Nao, but everyone merely tilted their heads.

— What should I do?

She was on the verge of tears, but she felt like she couldn't let that happen.

Still.

She arrived at the front of the shrine without being able to find Nao.

I shouldn't have quarrelled with Yakumo over something trivial and let her out of my sight. Even though I’ve regretted it, it wasn’t enough.

“Nao-chan ...”

As she murmured, she saw an incoming call on her mobile phone. It was from Yakumo.

“Did you find her?”

She picked up the phone in anticipation, but all she got back from Yakumo was the short answer <No, not yet.>

Yakumo also seemed to realise from Haruka's reaction that Nao hadn't been found yet and hung up the phone with, <All we can do is keep searching.>.

Right. Whatever it takes, we must find her.

Just as she was renewing her resolve, she heard a child's laughter mingled with the din of the festival.

It came from behind the shrine.

— Could it be?

Haruka hurried to the back of the shrine.

— Found her!

Nao was there, holding a plastic bag with goldfish in it.

Haruka almost fell to her knees in relief, but she soon became more cautious as a very suspicious-looking man wearing a mask of a cat figure was standing in front of Nao.

Perhaps he was trying to kidnap Nao.

“Nao-chan!”

To be honest, she was scared, but Haruka ran to Nao, hugged her tightly and stared at the man in the cat mask.

“Don't stare so much. You'll ruin your pretty face.”

The man with the cat mask said in a playful manner and quietly stretched out his right hand in front of Nao.

Did he really want to kidnap Nao? Haruka put more strength into the arms holding Nao.

The man in the cat mask snapped his fingers, and before Haruka knew it, there was a red hairpin in Nao's hair, although she didn’t know what was going on.

“It's a present.”

The man in the cat mask stroked Nao's hair lightly and turned around.

“Ooh ... myyy ...... looost ... lost ... kitten ...”

Singing a strange, off-key song, the man slowly walked away.

— What was that about?

Half stunned, Haruka saw Yakumo running towards her, passing the man in the cat mask.

“Nao!”

Yakumo sighed in relief, sweat beading on his forehead as he spotted Nao.

There were a lot of things that didn’t make sense, but for now it was over.

“Anyway, let's go.”

Yakumo said briefly and was about to walk away, but Nao shouted, ‘Mm!’ and grabbed Haruka's left hand with her right hand. Then she held out her left hand, which was holding the plastic bag with goldfish, to Yakumo.

Yakumo accepted the bag of goldfish with a look that said ‘good grief’ on his face.

“Mm.”

As Yakumo was about to walk away again, Nao stopped him once more.

Nao's left hand was still extended to Yakumo.

Yakumo thought for a while, but eventually, lightly clicking his tongue, he took Nao's left hand.

With the three of them holding hands, Nao smiled with satisfaction.

In that state, the three of them started walking together.

How would we look to strangers? The mere thought made Haruka's face flush.

But this might be fine once in a while —As she walked, she inadvertently strained her ears and thought she was hearing an off-key song mixed in with the music of the festival — .