#garden & landscape topics

[sergioguymanproust]

The life of a blogger.Quietly doing what makes me happy.Living and traveling in Japan ,photographing the urban landscape and countryside.I have crisscrossed this country,met incredible people ,tasted regional cuisine and there’s always something new to experience.Thanks to all of you who follow my blog Blessings and much shalom.

[cevansbrat0007]

Request: Andy Barber & Baby Girl having sex during a thunderstorm.

Through the Storm

Summary: Andy helps you overcome your fear of thunderstorms.

Warnings: Astraphobia, Smut, Anxious Reader, Dominant Andy, Manhandling, Fingering, Spanking, CMNF (Clothed Male, Nude Female), Safe Sex, Cuddles, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Finally finished this WIP! This request takes place early in Andy and Reader's relationship. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series, but can also be read as a standalone. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

You stare out into the backyard, watching sheets of slanted rain pelt against your boyfriend’s newly installed patio. While it wasn’t much, it was enough to give the compact enclosed space the cozy feel it had long been missing. You’d even helped him with the landscaping, much to your chagrin. 

Andy had been quick to learn that while you enjoyed gardening you were also terrified of virtually all things creepy crawly, like bees. Especially bees. Your man hadn’t known what to make of that one, which had certainly made for an entertaining afternoon. 

A loud crash of thunder suddenly booms overhead, startling you so bad that you nearly drop the bottle of water in your hands. You fucking hated thunderstorms, a fun little nugget that you had yet to share with the man who was currently waiting for you to join him upstairs. 

Truth be told, you hadn’t even planned on staying over tonight. You were supposed to be home by the time the storm rolled in, tucked away safe and sound on your couch. All the while clutching your stuffed bear, Mr. Sprinkles, for dear life and watching your favorite comfort films until Mother Nature decided she was done with her tantrum.

But dinner with friends had gone long and then the show had started late. Well, the dinner itself hadn’t actually been with friends – more like one of his work colleagues. But the guy’s wife had been nice enough. And after enjoying one last round of drinks, you four had wandered across the street to take-in a production of Aladdin on Broadway. 

Of course musicals weren’t really your thing, but since it was a childhood favorite of yours you’d been all for it. Your boyfriend didn’t know how much of a Disney fan you really were. Which was okay. Because he was older, more mature. And as such, you always tried to come off more sophisticated than what you actually were.

He’d already been married once before and had a child. One he’d lost a few years back. You two had yet to actually have a true conversation about that one but you were almost certain it was coming.

It had to be, right? Because it wasn’t like you both could skirt around the topic forever. But, at the same time, it’s also not like you could be the one to bring up. Like, how would a conversation like that even go? 

Exactly. It wouldn’t. Because you couldn’t. It wasn’t your place. 

So, you would allow that door to remain shut for as long as it took to allow him to open it and guide you through. You could be patient. 

Alright fine. You would make yourself be patient. And until then you would keep trying to demonstrate the right amount of emotional maturity needed to prove that you could be a good partner and support system. Or at least a little worldlier than you probably came off.  

But all of that would be pretty hard to do if Andrew Barber knew that you were secretly afraid of thunderstorms. He wouldn’t get it and you would only end up tripping all over yourself if you tried to explain. Which meant that you had to make a decision.

Either you could be brave and climb the stairs so you could crawl into bed – his bed – wearing nothing but a pair of panties and one of his oversized t-shirts. Or you could sneak upstairs, grab your clothes, and dash out your man’s front door into the night like a madwoman and hope that he would be too stunned to chase you down. 

“Whatcha doin’ down there, Baby Girl?” Andy bellows from up above, making you jump.

“Noth–coming!” You shout back as you pad towards the stairs, still trying your best to devise a plan. Andrew Barber was deceptively fast, which meant running was out. So you were most likely gonna have to suck it up until he fell asleep and then you would be free to tremble in peace. 

The city’s hottest attorney could not know that he was dating the world’s biggest scaredy cat. If he ever found out, you might never recover from the embarrassment.  

You find yourself holding your breath as you round the corner before stepping inside Andy’s bedroom. Your man looks up from his phone when he notices that you’ve finally joined him. A warm smile spreads across his handsome features as he leans back, allowing his big body to relax against the frame. 

“Thought I was gonna have to come looking for you.” His husky purr sends a tiny shiver coursing through you, all the way down to your toes.  

“Uh, nope. Here I am.” Your eyes stray towards your overnight bag nestled innocently in the corner. Because if you weren’t mistaken you were also beginning to sweat. “But I was thinking that maybe I ought to – nooope!” 

An loud, unexpected clap of thunder has you diving towards the bed with a shriek. You seek refuge under the blankets, ignoring the sounds of a bewildered Andy calling your name. He tries to lift up the edge of the comforter, but you refuse to let go. 

At this point, you have no desire to acknowledge just how ridiculous you were being at that very moment. Because you were scared.

And also a smidge mortified.

“Um, honey..?” Andy works to keep his tone light. “What’s going on?” He pauses briefly as one big hand comes to rest on what he assumes must be your head. “Are you okay?”

“Yep!” You squeak out, clutching the blanket even tighter around you. “But I’m also really, really sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Again he tugs at the edge of your makeshift shield, prompting you to try and roll away. “You haven’t done anything – can you at least look at me? Please.”

“Um, I…I don’t think so. No.” Your words come out slightly muffled.

You’re rewarded with a heavy sigh followed by a brief moment of silence. Although you’re not sure what you expected him to say, you’re still surprised by what comes next.

“Well, if you won’t come out, then I guess that means I’ll just have to come under there then, won’t I?”

Fine by you. Because you were pretty sure that you were only seconds away from dying of embarrassment anyhow.

“Kay.”    

“Let me in, princess.” 

Relief fills him when he sees you finally relax your grip. Seconds later he joins you under the blankets, cocooning you both within the plush softness.   

“Hey.” Andy breathes as his eyes strain to adjust to the light.

“Hey.”

As if of its own accord, one of his hands reaches over to gently brush your curls away from your face. A quiet sigh makes its way past your lips as you feel yourself melting into his touch. In a way it acted as an unspoken reminder. 

You were safe with this man. Which meant it was time to fess up. 

“Umm…” He makes an exaggerated show of looking around. “Why are we hiding?”

“Because.” You whisper, only to flinch when another crack of thunder echoes above. 

“Because?” Your man drags out the word. “Because what? Are you–?” He cuts himself off before trying again. “I’m gonna guess that all this has something to do with the storm. Am I somewhere in the ballpark?”

His question has hot tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

“I don’t like it.” You croak before giving into temptation and burying yourself in his tattoo-covered chest. “In fact, I hate it.” 

Good Lord, you sounded so pitiful right now. 

“The…storm?” 

“All of it.” You confirm as you begin to tremble ever so slightly. “The lightning, the thunder, the heavy winds, the sound of the rain. S’too much.”

“I see.” Is all he says, even as his hand goes to rest on the small of your back, rubbing in easy, soothing circles. 

“I’m sorry.” You feel even worse when the tears spill over onto Andy’s bare skin. 

“Hush.” Comes the soft-spoken command, drawing you flush against his much larger body. “There’s no need to be sorry. I just wish you would’ve said something earlier. Is that why you were so adamant about going home tonight?”

“Mmhm.”

But then your handsome ogre just had to go and be difficult.     

“And I convinced you to stay.” Andy huffs out a disappointed breath at the same time as he drags his knuckles along your spine. “I should’ve noticed something was wrong. All I could think about was how much better I sleep whenever you’re next to me.” You can tell he’s annoyed now – not with you – but with himself. “Should’ve thought to ask why you seemed so skittish.” He drops a brief kiss on the top of your head.   

“Andy…”

“I’m sorry, Baby Girl.” He grunts, pulling away so that he can get a good look at your face. “No–” He continues when you open your mouth to interrupt. “I should’ve been paying better attention. That’s on me.” He takes a moment to whisper his sensual, full lips over your own. 

“It’s okay.” You assure him before pressing a tender kiss on his left pec, just above his heart. “I probably should’ve said something earlier. It was just…I guess I was embarrassed.” You finish with a shrug. 

“Why?” He cocks his head to the side as he patiently waits for you to answer. Although it was hard to read his expression in the dark, you knew he was genuinely curious. 

“Because it’s a stupid.” You mumble a few seconds later. “It’s stupid and I’m stupid for–”

“No it’s not.” Andy swiftly interjects. “And no you’re not. So please let that be the last time I hear you refer to yourself that way.” His gruff tone leaves little room for argument, not that you were in the mood anyway. Seconds later, another clap of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning, has you diving back into the safety of his arms.

“Fuck.” Pissed at himself, he quickly wraps his arms around you before gently rocking you back and forth in an effort to calm you down. “When did it start?” More thunder booms overhead the whole house, loud enough to shake the whole house. 

Andy frowns when he hears the tiny whimper that escapes your throat. .   

“It’s silly.” You warn, even as you close your eyes and force yourself to take a deep breath. 

“Try me.”

He’d stay up all night if that’s what it took to get you to talk. The last thing he wanted was for you to shut down on him. Again.  

“Please.”

Guess that was your cue to start spilling your guts. 

“Wh–when I was a little girl, I couldn’t have been more than six or seven, there was this really bad storm. I mean later we would find out that tornadoes had touched down all over the region. But that night – I swear the rain was coming down so hard it sounded like hundreds of baseballs were being pelted against the roof. And the wind was blowing so hard that it kept rattling windows.”

“Mmhm.” The small, noncommittal sound rumbles from somewhere deep within his chest, spurring you forward. 

“So my dad woke us all up, me and my siblings, and herded us down to the basement. I guess he’d been watching the news and figured we’d be safer there. My mom had laid out blankets and sleeping bags for us. At first it seemed kinda fun – almost like we were camping out.”

Another bright flash of light briefly illuminates the bedroom, but you’re too engrossed in your story to really care. Plus, you had Andy to keep you safe. Nothing bad ever seemed to happen when you were with Andy.

At least not so far. 

“I could see that.” Your boyfriend affirms, before giving your hip a light squeeze. “Bet you probably had a cool sleeping bag.” 

“I totally did. I actually had one of those Disney character sleeping bags.” The memory makes you smile as your initial anxiety begins to lessen. “Come to think of it, we all did. But mine had Genie from Aladdin on the front of it. I remember because I got to pick it out myself.” 

“I knew I had the right idea when I invited you out tonight.” Andy muses, brushing his mouth against your curls once more. 

“Yeah, Big Man. I’m a Disney girl. And I sure did love that sleeping bag.” You take a moment to lace your fingers through his, needing the connection. “Which was why I climbed right on in and let my mother zip me up. At that point, I think my little sister started crying or something, so I let her crawl inside with me. After that she went right to sleep.”

“But I’m guessing you didn’t.”

“Nope.” Your grip on his hand tightens, but your man doesn’t pull away. Even so, you allow your thumb to sweetly caress along the ridges of his knuckles. “I stayed wide awake for what felt like hours just…listening. Listening as the wind picked up, as the thunder got louder and louder. Until it became so loud that it sounded like the storm was happening right above our house. And then suddenly there was this crash that shook the entire house – almost like a bomb went off.”    

“Listen, I know sometimes storms can seem–”

“It was a tree.” You quietly forge on. “The storm had knocked down a tree. It fell through the roof, into the room I shared with my sister. Of course nobody was hurt, but ever since then I’ve been terrified of thunderstorms.” You finish, somehow feeling even more foolish than when you’d first started. 

“Holy shit.” Andy exhales before briefly nuzzling your nose with his own. It was a simple stress touch, nothing more. But at this particular moment, it means everything. “I mean, I’m sure this probably goes without saying, but I’m so glad you weren’t in there when it happened. You or your sister.”

Wordlessly you nod, still wishing that you’d found a way to make it home tonight after all. Come tomorrow you’d finally bite the bullet and start looking for a therapist. Perhaps it was finally time you found a way to move past some of your childhood trauma. And maybe then–

Your thoughts are interrupted by the deep, rich timbre of Andrew Barber’s voice. 

“I’m afraid of clowns.” Your boyfriend grunts in a very matter of fact tone. “And spiders.” He tacks on with a slight grimace. “Can’t get near either one of them without breaking into hives.” 

“Oh.” Is all you can manage, clearly surprised by his sudden openness. You hadn’t been expecting that at all. “So I‘m guessing anything to do with Pennywise is probably – ahh shit!” You cry out when the familiar sound of thunder makes you lose your train of thought, leaving you unable to finish your small attempt at humor.

Almost immediately, you feel two strong arms band themselves around your waist, drawing you closer even as you try your damnedest to scramble away. You throw off the covers before attempting to swing your legs over the side of the bed so that you can make a mad dash in the direction of the basement.     

“Hold on, baby.” Andy growls, wincing when your elbow accidentally connects with his ribs. “Just settle down for a second, okay? We’re gonna get through this, I promise.”

“Nope – I’m good! Just let me go, please.” Instead of doing as you ask, he flips your bodies, using his considerable weight to keep you still. “I’m serious, Andrew!” You tell him, thumping his back with your fist for good measure.

“Hush.” He takes advantage of your positions long enough to glide his lips along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “Just focus on me – on us – and let everything else fade away.”

Hmph. Easier said than done, handsome.

Andy gifts you with a glimpse of his pearly white teeth before slanting his hungry mouth over your own. He moans into the kiss, gently sucking on your bottom lip and releasing it with a slight pop. When you don’t respond he does it again, this time tracing the curve of your lips with his sinful tongue. 

“But what if –.”

“Shh.” Your boyfriend pauses his sensual assault long enough to stare down at you while he braces himself on his forearms. “You have my word that nothing bad is gonna happen while I’ve got you here, with me, in this bed. We’re safe, Baby Girl.” He then angles his head to nip along your jaw. “Let me show you.”  

“Do you trust me?” Where had you heard that before?

“I…” You trail off as he continues to nip at your heated flesh, paying special attention to the sensitive shell of your ear. “Y–yes.”

“Good.”

Apparently that’s all the permission Andrew Barber needs, because the next thing you know he’s sliding one large hand up your thigh, his lightly calloused palm sending pinpricks of pleasure straight to your core. Seconds later, you both are treated to the sounds of tearing fabric. 

Well, there went your panties. They’d been shredded to hell just like every other pair that went before it. 

Next up is your shirt. He manages to whip it over your head with relative ease before resting his delicious weight on top of you once more. Clad in only his boxers, he makes a show of grinding rapidly hardening cock against your damp pussy.

“Andy.” You whine, wantonly arching your hips in time with his thrusts. “Don’t tease me right now.”

“Why not?” He purrs as a hand moves to fist itself in your hair, wrenching your head back with just enough force to make you feel dizzy with lust. 

Reaching up, you capture his face between your hands to pull him down for another kiss. The scruff of his neatly trimmed beard feels so good against your skin.

“Fuck me, please.” You hiss, seeking a much needed distraction as a flash of lightning threatens to send you running for the hills. Since this man wouldn’t let you leave, your next best option was to let him bury his thick cock inside you so hard and so deep until you no longer had the capacity to think. 

Or walk properly, for that matter.

“Your wish is my command, baby.” Your boyfriend groans as he continues to circle his hips. With that said, he then makes quick work of removing his boxers before tossing him aside in the direction of his hamper. He misses, of course. Which is why you silently vow to pick it up later.

Now freed from its confines, you watch Andy’s impressive manhood immediately spring to attention, lightly smacking his abdomen as it bobs up and down.

Good God, you’d be lying if you said the sight didn’t make your mouth water.  

His mouth curves into a roguish grin as he purposely slides himself between your slippery folds. He revels in your wetness, loving the way your slick coats his aching cock. Shit – if he wasn’t careful he risked blowing his load before it was time. 

Which absolutely would not work. You always came first. That was the rule. There were no exceptions, unless you were playing a game or something.

Reaching over you, Andy grabs a foil packet from his nightstand. Tearing it open with his teeth, you lean back on your elbows while he handles his business with the condom. Maybe next time he’d allow you to put it on for him. You’d always wanted to try…

You also weren’t quite sure of exactly when he’d gone and removed his boxers, but you also weren’t complaining either.         

“Now, sweetheart.”  Your man begins as he takes a hold of your calf, tenderly draping it over his muscled shoulder as the wheel continues to howl outside. “All you’ve gotta do is lay back and focus on how good you feel.” He leans forward so that he can trace his tongue around your nipple before sucking the delicate flesh into his waiting mouth.  

Your back bows as you thrust your chest forward in silent offering. Andy groans as continues to toy with your pouting nipple before switching to the other. You let out a sharp cry as he brings the pebbled tip in his mouth, lightly pinching it between his teeth just hard enough to make you writhe beneath him. 

That’s part of what always made this feel so good. The way he always seemed to mix pleasure with a little bit of pain. 

His mouth eventually finds yours again as your hands smooth their way over the blades of his shoulders, allowing you to run your fingers along the contour of his muscles. And when you finally reach the firm globes of his ass, you can’t help but giggle as you finally give into the temptation to smack it. Hard.    

Just the way he liked it.

“Remember, sweet brat. If I’m gonna wear your handprint then I think it’s only fair you wear mine too. Understand?” Of course he doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead he maneuvers himself up so that he can expertly flip you over onto your stomach before pulling you up so that you’re now resting on your hands and knees before him. 

Instinctively you arch your ass in the air, inviting him to make good on his promise. This man loved spanking your ass every chance he got. And what’s more, you seemed to enjoy it almost as much as he did.

“Now be a good girl and put your hands where they’re supposed to go.” 

A small shiver of anticipation courses through as you move to obey. He chuckles softly as he watches your eager fingers grip the headboard. Later he would tell you how proud of you he was in that moment, that he was honored by your faith in his ability to distract you from the violent storm taking place right outside his window.

It meant the world that you trusted him enough to take care of you at a time like this. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Andy purrs as the heavy weight of his palm comes down on your upturned rear with just enough force to make your naughty pussy gush. Unable to stop it, you can’t help the groan you emit when he does it again, loving the way he kneads and caresses your most intimate curves.  

“So are you.” 

Your body jerks when he decides to focus his attention on your greedy little cunt. Nimble fingers spear you open as they between your glistening folds to tease your throbbing clit. It’s not long before your hips begin moving in time with his ministrations. 

Soon your eyes flutter closed as you bear down, shamelessly grinding yourself against his calloused palm. At first, Andy is content to simply watch as you slowly work yourself into a frenzy.

Because this time, when the sound of thunder crackles throughout the room, you barely react. In fact, you hardly hear it. You’re too engrossed in the pleasure, too caught up in just how good your man is making you feel, to remember to be afraid. 

“Easy, greedy girl.” Andy hums after another beat goes by before finally removing his hand. The fucking bastard.

“Nooo!” You whine, hating the way your impending orgasm lingers just out of reach.

"Yeees.” There’s a slight mocking edge to his tone that has you glancing over your shoulder to shoot him a glare. 

“Swear to God you’re so fucking beautiful. Even when you’re trying to turn me into dust.” He winks at you then before allowing his hands to settle on your hips. Goosebumps pebble across your sweat-dampened flesh when you feel the head of his impressive cock nudge at your entrance.

“Please.Please.Please.” That one word is whispered over and over, like a fervent prayer. 

Just then, a stroke of lightning brightens the room, treating you to a fleeting glimpse of your man right as he thrusts himself inside of you, all the way to the hilt. Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head as he forces you to take every deliciously thick inch of his cock, stretching your tight pussy until you can’t help clench around him.     

Andy starts off slow, gradually building up the pace as your velvety walls continue to milk him for all he’s worth. His fingers dig into your curves as you rear back to match his movements. Soon, he adjusts the angle of his thrusts, allowing him to go even deeper. 

“S’good, Andy!Fuuuck!” You moan as Andy continues fucking you into oblivion. “Yes!Harder, pleeease!”

“My baby wants it harder?” He growls, adjusting his position to give you exactly what you asked for. A desperate sob bubbles up from your throat, prompting you to bury your face in a nearby pillow.

Too bad your man is having none of it.        

“Oh no.” One large hand moves to wrap itself around the delicate column of your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your pulse spike. “You don’t get to hide that pretty face from me. Not tonight.” He grunts before allowing his free arm to encircle your waist to haul you against the hard wall of his chest. 

A hand soon finds its way to your breast. He lifts the tempting weight, before plucking at your nipple with his thumb and forefinger, evoking the most exquisite sensations. 

“You’re doing so good, Baby Girl.” Andy rasps, tweaking his angle so that he can find your spot. “So good. Told you I’d keep you safe.” The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echo throughout the room, creating an erotic tempo. “Would never let anything bad happen to you.” 

Your boyfriend’s Boston accent grows thicker and more pronounced with each passing second – letting you know that he’s close to losing control. That’s when you decide to push him closer to the brink by reaching behind you to pull his head down for a kiss. It’s hot, wet, and deep. And by the time you both come up for air your heart is hammering in your chest. 

“I…I know.” And you did know.

Tipping your chin back, you allow your walls to flutter around his fat cock, making him twitch. Your core begins to spasm as you feel the coil in your belly tighten even more. Andy makes sure to keep a tight hold on your sweat-slicked body as his lips continue to whisper kisses along the curve of your jaw.  

White hot pleasure dances along your skin, meanwhile Andy’s thrusts continue to grow more and more erratic with each passing minute. One of your hands slips from the headboard to help keep you upright. 

“Cum, princess. Give it to me.” He snarls through clenched teeth before reaching down to deliver a slap to your pussy. It feels so good that you beg him to do it again and again. “Be a good girl and fucking cum!”

That’s all you need to hear before you go tumbling over the edge and into bliss. “Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!” Ecstasy slices through you, making you cry out loud enough to wake the neighbors. Thank goodness there was a storm going on outside, otherwise someone might’ve taken it upon themselves to call the police.  

Chest heaving, you continue bouncing on your man’s cock. He felt so amazing it bordered on obsession. And you knew he’d feel even better once you had him in your mouth. Andy shudders behind you, his big body trembling with the force of his orgasm.  

Completely spent, you both flop down on the bed. You’re both naked and sweaty, but neither of you really cares all that much. You curl up in his arms, resting on his chest so that you can listen to the soothing sound of his heartbeat. 

“You okay?” Andy murmurs a little while later when he notices that your eyes have begun to droop. “Do you need me to–”

“Mm…” You purr, stretching your arms above your head as you stifle a lawn. “I’m thinking I need some more of that. Like tonight.” 

You grow quiet once you realize that you no longer hear the sound of the rain. Or the wind. Or the thunder. All is as it should be. Thank goodness.

“Give me ten minutes to refuel and I’m all yours.” He grunts before disposing of his used condom in a nearby garbage can.. 

“Thank you.” You mumble, feeling your cheeks heat. “For tonight, for what you did.”

“Not sure if I did much of anything.” Andy smiles down at you, his brilliant blue eyes filled with sincerity. “You’re always safe with me, princess. So just relax."

“I believe you, Andy. But the storm –"

“Is about over. We fucked right through it, baby.” You don’t have to look up at him to know that he’s got some kind of shit-eating grin plastered across his handsome features. "But most of all, thank you for trusting me with your secret.”

“Thank you for not laughing.“ Your hand reaches up to stroke your knuckles along his bearded jaw. 

“Hm.” Andy mutters. “Maybe next time we’ll have to try making love in the rain. What do you think, princess?”

“Um, baby steps, Andrew.” You counter, expertly dodging his first question. “Let’s go smaller. I’m talking waaay smaller.”

“Fine. I’ll settle for a kiss during a light drizzle.” Your boyfriend concedes, laughter and warmth suffusing his tone. 

“Consider it done, handsome.” You mumble as sleep threatens to overtake you.

Later, Andy would tell you that he let you fall asleep that night on purpose. Your earlier anxiety had really done a number on you, which is why he was content to let you rest. Instead of complaining, he holds you close, silently willing his heart to beat in time with your own. 

And when you wake in the middle of the night, cocooned in the safety of your man’s arms, you know without question that you are cherished beyond measure.

END

[amnhnyc]

Last night was the first SciCafe of the season! Attendees gathered after-hours in the Museum’s Hall of the Universe for a discussion about “rewilding” strategies—from green infrastructure to habitat gardens. Nina-Marie Lister, an expert in landscape architecture, explored applications of ecological design that draw on biodiversity science to reconnect people in cities to nature. 

SciCafe is 21+ and free with RSVP. It takes place on the first Wednesday of every month at 7 pm EST, bringing together inquisitive minds for an informal evening of drinks and conversation about cutting-edge science topics with experts from the field. Join us for the next one on Wednesday, November 6, to learn about the extinction of the Indigenous woolly dog.

Photos: D. Kim / © AMNH 

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 29

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3.6K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

In the days that passed, you often wondered how you were going to get through this—how you were going to heal from everything that had happened. More challenging still, was the question of how to find the will to want to heal. Azriel wanted you to live, not just survive. And you weren’t quite sure what he meant by that. To live means to continue with breath, although he didn’t mean it like that. He wanted you to thrive, to be alive, to feel the weight of the world as a companion instead of a burden. Yet every day you felt like you were failing. The progress you made—bathing more regularly, engaging in small pleasures like gardening and reading—was often undone by a moment of panic or a flash of anger. Every time you retreated into the safety of your shell, Azriel would be there at the entrance, extending a hand and gently coaxing you forward.

After seeking your permission, as well as Nesta’s and Cassian’s, Azriel moved back into the House of Wind. Initially, he claimed it was due to some upcoming meetings, but when no such meetings materialized, you realized he had moved back to be closer to you. He took up residence in the room across from yours, the same room where he had lived before he was gifted the townhouse. His room, like yours, was adorned in dark woods and muted tones, but Azriel’s choices leaned toward blacks and grays.

Six months passed, and under some gift of the Mother, you started to feel more like yourself again—the self that existed before Kai had died. You still lacked the courage to return to the barn where he was murdered, but at least you were becoming more comfortable walking in the streets near the site with Azriel. You ventured out more often, now two to three times a week, and began attending nightly dinners. On the nights you couldn’t bring yourself to join, no one made a fuss; they simply left food outside your door. You were healing, though the process was slow.

On one of your better days, you found yourself standing in Azriel’s doorway as he stood in front of the mirror, unbuckling one of his siphons and slipping it onto the table. You leaned casually against the doorframe, one shoulder supporting your weight as Azriel worked to unclasp the other.

“Where have you been?” you asked, crossing one bare foot over your ankle.

Azriel peered up from under his lashes and curls, resting his forearm on his thigh to get a better grip on the straps. “Windhaven,” he responded.

You nodded slightly, unsure what to say about that. Azriel had been spending more time in and around the war camps, though you hadn’t the heart to ask why. The mere thought of those camps made bile rise in your throat; you could almost smell the mud and filth clinging to him.

“How was your day?” you asked instead.

Azriel gripped one of the leather straps between his teeth, muttering something almost incoherent. “Fine.”

You rolled your eyes slightly as the strap slipped from his teeth, and he hissed in frustration. “Can we stop doing this every night and just let me help from the start?” you asked from the doorway. Azriel always struggled to remove the arm bands, and every night you stood there, chatting with him until he finally asked for help.

Azriel paused, looking up at you through his curls and lashes. “I got it,” he insisted.

“See, but you don’t got it,” you replied. “Since I’ve known you, you’ve never got it.”

Azriel, gripping the strap in his teeth again, garbled out, “If you had any faith in me at all…” Before he could finish, the strap slipped from his mouth. He looked up at you as you caught your giggle in the back of your throat. He merely sighed and extended his arm. “Fine.”

You took a few steps into the room, crossing the threshold as you had done every night these past months. Instinctively, you took his arm in your palm, using the other hand to pull the strap as Azriel looked down at you. “You got a sunburn on your nose,” he noted.

You looked up at him under your brow, quizzically. “No, I didn’t.”

“I’m looking at your nose. It’s red,” he replied.

You felt the siphon come loose in your hand and placed it on the dresser. Turning to gaze into the mirror, your fingers flew to your nose to investigate.

Azriel leaned in, his hands on the dresser as he scrutinized your reflection. “Definitely wasn’t that color this morning,” he said, shrugging.

“You’re seeing things,” you replied, turning away from the mirror.

Azriel did the same, towering above you as he looked down. “Why would it be so bad if you did?”

“It’s not that it’s bad, it’s just that I’m not sunburnt,” you replied shortly.

“Agree to disagree,” Azriel said, his voice teasing as he shrugged again.

“Oh, so now you’re the expert on my skin tone?” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye.

He grinned, leaning closer. “Well, I do spend a lot of time looking at it.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “That’s comforting. Why are you home so late?”

Azriel just responded, “I had a meeting that ran long.” And then quickly followed it with, “Why are you up?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Although Azriel knew this. Every night, you had been waking up in fits of screams as your mate meticulously etched away your wall piece by piece, slithering into your subconscious. For the first three months, Azriel would come running into your room to wake you up in a panic. Eventually, he just started checking in on you throughout the night, gently waking you before your dreams could drag you under. On the nights he didn’t get there fast enough, you’d ask him to crawl into bed with you, his presence and body heat calming your shaking. Eventually, he started sleeping in your room with you just to make everything easier. He started out in the armchair across the room, but when you noticed how stiffly he moved the next day, you invited him to sleep in the bed.

Whenever he was gone overnight, your nightmares were worse, but you never told him that. Tonight, when Azriel came home late, you hadn’t allowed yourself to sleep at all, scared of what your mate might do to you, so you stayed up reading until you heard Azriel walking down the hall and scurried out of bed to get to his room.

He slipped off his shin leathers and chest plate, looking over at you as you leaned against the bedpost, one finger tracing the intricate swirls. “Do you want me to sleep in your room tonight?” he asked, pulling the hem of his shirt up and tossing it onto the bed. Your eyes traced his abdomen, the many black intricate designs snaking along his sides.

“Could you?” you asked as he wandered into the bathroom, his wings tucked neatly behind him.

You heard him holler from the bathroom as he turned on the shower, the water hitting the floor with a hissing splash. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, no,” you responded as he threw his pants out of the bathroom door. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

You crawled up onto his bed, sliding your feet under the throw blanket at the foot. Your nightgown curled up over your thighs as you rested your head on your knees, your fingers absentmindedly picking at the fur.

You listened to the splashing from the bathroom as Azriel washed, the warm, soothing scent of cedarwood wafting out. You remained there until he turned off the showerhead with a squeak. He emerged, a towel draped loosely around his waist. You were so comfortable with him now that you didn’t even question it. His hair fell in wet curls on his brow. “Are you worried about tomorrow?”

You were meeting Titania for the first time since Kai had passed away. You had learned that when she had seen you and Caelum in the square, over half a year ago now, she had gone to the guard’s station and alerted them of your name and what was happening. After reporting it up, Azriel immediately sprang into action, searching for you in the city and then using his shadows to follow your path into the forest. You hadn’t spoken with her since that day, out of fear of what it might do to you. But you had finally been brave enough to reach out. She quickly responded, asking to see you, and tomorrow was the meeting day.

“Oh yeah,” you admitted.

Azriel opened the closet door, stepping in as he called back, “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, continuing to pick at the fur. “I think I’m just worried about how she’s going to be.”

Azriel stepped back out, now wearing a pair of loose-fitting black shorts, his hands ruffling the towel through his hair as he walked back to the bathroom. “How so?” he asked.

You shrugged. “A lot's changed. Some pretty intense stuff happened.”

Azriel called from the bathroom, “Stuff that is—”

You cut him off. “Not my fault.” You finished, rolling your eyes.

Azriel reappeared, crossing the room to stand at the foot of the bed. “We’re going to keep saying that until you believe it.”

You rolled your eyes again at him as he chuckled softly. “Do you think you’re worried about what you might find out?”

You looked up at him, as he braced himself between the two bedposts. “I don’t know what more there is to learn.”

“So then what are you worried about?”

You shook your head slightly, “I don’t know. I just feel nervous.”

Azriel gave you a soft smile, “You worry for no reason.”

“I know,” you said, feigning a frown.

“Can we please go to bed? I’m exhausted,” Azriel begged, slumping slightly between the bedposts.

“Yes,” you conceded, sliding off the bed and walking in front of him across the hall. You climbed into your own bed, Azriel following behind you as you lay down, turning away to face the French doors as his body curled around yours, his arm resting on your shoulder. You felt his whole body press against you as your own relaxed, breathing in and out deeply as the faelight in the room dimmed.

After a few moments, you said into the darkness, “I think I’m worried she’s going to judge me.”

Azriel’s eyes remained closed as he slurred out the words, “Judge you for what?”

You shrugged, knowing he could feel it. “How I’ve reacted to all of this. If she thinks I should have done something else.”

Azriel muttered, “Why would she think that?”

“Because she might think I’m doing the wrong thing.”

“In terms of what?”

“Getting better.”

Azriel arched his neck slightly. “You think she’s going to judge you for getting better?”

You turned your head to look back at him, the moonlight just illuminating the soft curves of his face. “Like she thinks that I’m moving on too quickly. That I should be more sad still.”

“Y/N,” Azriel said, resting a hand on your side, “No one is going to think that. They’re just going to be happy to know you’re okay,” he replied.

You nodded, turning back towards the doors as Azriel lay his head back down on the pillow behind yours.

You nuzzled your face into the soft relief of the pillows, taking a few slow breaths as Azriel’s chest rose and fell behind you, pressing gently against your back. In sleep, he reached his arm around, pulling you closer, and you obliged. You had felt conflicted when Azriel had started sleeping in here with you, worried about what Kai or others might think. But Azriel had merely shrugged and noted, “It’s no one else’s business. If it helps you sleep, then it’s all that matters.” He had made it clear that his only intention was to help you find peace and rest.

—

The next morning, you dragged your feet, reluctant to get out of bed. Azriel had already left before dawn, as he always did, heading out early for training but always returning in time to join you for breakfast. When you didn’t appear at your usual time, he came looking for you, finding you still curled up in bed, awake but unwilling to face the day. With a gentle persistence, he helped you up, hauling you from the bed. You finally joined him at the breakfast table half an hour later, barely eating, just pushing a piece of fruit around your plate. Even the flight down to the city was quieter than usual.

Azriel landed a few blocks away from Titania’s, immediately scanning the streets with a watchful eye. “Can you not go full warrior mode?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

Azriel’s gaze met yours, softening as he explained, “Sorry. This just isn’t the safest part of the city.”

“You forget I was born here,” you reminded him, turning away and taking a few steps into the street. 

Azriel fell in step behind you. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

In no time, you found yourself standing in front of Titania’s place. The daylight revealed how worn down the building was—faded yellow walls with peeling paint, a sign hanging from rusted chains, and stairs that crumbled under your feet as you approached. You used the doorknocker that haunted your memories, the sound reverberating through you. Azriel stood at the base of the stairs as Titania opened the door, her eyes lighting up when she saw you.

“My love!” she exclaimed, throwing the door wide open and wrapping you in a warm embrace, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You knew a red stain would be left behind. She looked down the stairs at Azriel, then back at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh,” you said, “Titania, this is Azriel, a friend who’s been helping me.”

Azriel bounded up the steps, extending his hand to Titania. Her red, pointed fingernails grasped his as she gave him a sly smile. “A pleasure,” she remarked. “Please, come in!”

Inside, the summer heat turned the pleasure house into a stifling oven. With no air circulating, everything felt stagnant and sticky, the scent of bodies and arousal heavy in the air. You followed Titania into her sitting room, where she took an oversized red wingback chair, motioning for you to sit on the sofa. Azriel settled beside you, his eyes flickering between you and Titania, his expression gentle but guarded.

Titania leaned forward, fingers resting lightly on her cheek, gazing at you with a warm smile. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to reach out,” she said.

“I know,” you replied, looking down at your hands clasped in your lap. “I should have gotten in touch sooner.”

“It’s completely fine, my love,” Titania interrupted. “No worries about that. I knew you were safe, and that’s all that matters.”

You glanced up to see Azriel giving you a supportive smile, his eyes twinkling with an unspoken “I told you so.”

“Still,” you continued, “I put you in a very dangerous position.”

Titania shook her head, her expression softening. “You didn’t have a choice. I’m just glad I ran into you.”

You met her gaze, your eyes filling with gratitude. “Thank you. You saved me. Thank you so much.”

Titania’s smile grew, and she leaned forward, her eyes shimmering. “I’m just so glad you’re safe.” She paused, her voice trembling slightly. “How are you doing?”

You bit your lip. “Some days are better than others,” you admitted. “I’m still struggling a lot just day to day, but I seem to be balancing out the good and bad days.”

Titania nodded, murmuring her approval.

“What about you?” you asked.

She gestured around, a hint of weariness in her smile. “Same thing. Different day.”

You chuckled lightly. As you did, the creak of a door and the thumping of little feet caught your attention. Titania perked up, standing and moving quickly to the door, poking her head out. “Oi!” she hollered. Giggling erupted from the hallway—children. “Get over here,” Titania ordered.

Two small girls appeared, one a toddler and the other around third-grade age. The older one had red curly hair and freckles, while the toddler had a single blonde tuft of hair tied with a ribbon. “Where do you think you’re going?” Titania questioned.

The older girl swayed back and forth, glancing up at Titania. “We were going to see Mama.”

“Mama’s working right now,” Titania responded gently. “I thought I told you to stay outside until Mama came to get you. Did you not hear me?”

The toddler reached up, calling softly, “Mama, mama,” over and over. Titania sighed, picking up the child and bouncing her lightly. “Mama is working, my love.” The little one clung to Titania’s bony shoulder, her tiny fingers tangling in Titania’s hair. The older girl peeked out around Titania’s dress, her gaze fixed on Azriel’s wings with wide-eyed wonder as she pushed past and into the room.

“Jesmerle, get back over here!” Titania hissed.

Jesmerle ignored her, her eyes still on Azriel. “Why do you have wings?” she asked, her tiny voice filled with awe.

Azriel smiled, crouching to her level. “Because I was born with them.”

Jesmerle nodded, accepting the answer. “Ohh,” she said, before noticing Azriel’s hands. “Why do your hands look like that?”

Titania hissed her name and reached for her arm, but Azriel held up a hand, still smiling. “It’s alright,” he said. Titania hesitated, dropping it as Azriel continued. “When I was little, I got burned on my hands, and they couldn’t heal fast enough.”

“Do they hurt?” she asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Azriel twisted his hands back and forth, inspecting them with a thoughtful look. “Sometimes,” he replied softly, “but mostly no.”

“What’s your name?” Jesmerle asked quickly.

“Azriel,” he replied, extending his hand. “And yours?”

“Jesmerle,” she said, shaking his hand with a shy smile.

Titania, still holding the toddler, watched with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Titania, can Azriel come play with me?” Jesmerle asked, looking up at her.

Titania started to reply, but Azriel beat her to it. “I would love to! If Titania is alright with it, of course.”

Titania rolled her eyes, a resigned smile on her face. “Fine. But only for a few minutes, and then he has to come back.” She tried to put the toddler down, but the child fussed, reaching out for Azriel.

Without hesitation, Azriel took the toddler from Titania, introducing himself to the little one who babbled and smiled at him, repeating, “Mama, mama,” which made Azriel grin.

Titania sighed, “Only a few minutes. And then bring him back here, or I’ll come get him.”

Jesmerle gave a half-hearted agreement, taking Azriel’s hand and leading him up the stairs. You watched them go, Azriel asking Titania questions you couldn’t hear before they walked out the front door, the toddler still clinging to him.

“He’s quite charming,” Titania said, turning to you with a raised eyebrow. “Where’d you find that one?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly. “I didn’t find him. He’s just been helping me get back on my feet.”

Titania chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’d certainly get swept off my feet if I was shacking up with him.”

“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head. “It’s not like that.”

Titania’s eyes widened playfully. “So you’re saying he’s available?”

“You’re funny,” you said, giving her a mock stern look. “It’s not like that.”

Titania leaned back in her chair, a knowing smile on her lips. “So there’s nothing going on between you two?”

“No,” you replied, shaking your head.

“Are you sure?” she prodded.

You looked at her, a bit confused. “Yes?”

Titania gestured toward the door where Azriel had disappeared. “I’ve seen a lot of males with a lot of females, and I know that look he’s giving you.”

You tilted your head, genuinely curious. “What look?”

“Are you blind, my love?” she asked, leaning forward. “He watches your every move. He’s constantly adjusting to you and where you are to make sure you’re comfortable. Not to mention, he smiles every time you speak.”

You rolled your eyes, though a blush crept up your cheeks. “He’s just being kind.”

“I’m sure he is,” Titania nodded, her smile softening. “But I think he also really wants to know you better.” She winked.

“It’s not like that,” you insisted, though your voice wavered slightly.

Titania raised her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. But I’m just saying, he looks at you like someone who’s pining.”

You looked down at your hands, feeling a swirl of emotions. “No. It’s nothing like that.”

The room grew quiet, the tone shifting to something more serious. Titania’s gaze softened as she studied your face. “You know it’s okay to open up to that?”

“To what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Love,” Titania responded quietly.

“What? No,” you replied, shaking your head.

“Maybe not now,” she conceded gently. “But it seems like this Azriel is making you happy right now, or at least helping you to feel better.”

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat.

“And if that’s something you want to pursue further, I don’t want you to hold yourself back.”

“Doesn’t that seem a little early?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“My love, it only matters how your heart is healing,” Titania said softly.

You shook your head, trying to reconcile your feelings. “It feels wrong.”

“If it feels wrong, it is for you,” Titania agreed, her tone understanding. “But that doesn’t mean it will feel wrong forever. And when it doesn’t feel wrong, know that it means you aren’t forgetting him. You’re just living on.”

“To live on,” you repeated, the words feeling foreign yet comforting. “What a funny concept.”

“Funny, maybe,” Titania said, reaching out to gently touch your hand. “But also a beautiful one.”

Lovely readers: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @rhysandorian @loglady00

[dontforgetukraine]

TIFF: And so it continues...5 to ZFF

Aaand "Russians at War" is going to be at the Zurich Flim Festival. Because of course.

The Russian Canadian director Anastasia Trofimova met a soldier on home leave in Moscow's subway, accompanying him to the front lines, where she spent over a year filming unauthorized footage in a battalion near the Ukrainian border. In her film, she gives voice to soldiers who have no understanding of the war's causes and soon find themselves mourning comrades who have become Putin's cannon fodder. This harrowing and unique war documentary captures images you would never see in the news media. 'Who are the Russian soldiers who are fighting against Ukraine? What do they think of Putin? The documentary has them speak their minds. A film that revealed more to me about this conflict than 100 newspaper articles.' – Christian Jungen Anastasia Trofimova Anastasia Trofimova was born in Moscow and is a Russian-Canadian filmmaker. She first studied communications and political science and then international relations. Trofimova is a renowned filmmaker who has made a name for herself through her work in conflict zones such as Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Russia and the Democratic Republic of Congo. In her films, she addresses social inequality and injustice. She has been honoured with the Canada Screen Award and has participated as a jury member at the News and Documentary Emmy Awards five times. RUSSIANS AT WAR (2024) / CONGO, MY PRECIOUS (2017) / VICTIMS OF ISIS (2015) / HER WAR: WOMEN VS. ISIS (2015)

No mention of RT in the director's bio of course. Same shit, different film festival.

Also, if this propaganda film reveals more to you about the war than 100 news articles, that's not shining praise for the film, but rather an indictment of the sorry state of our collective media landscape in Ukraine and the West.

The West obviously has a problem of not reporting on Ukraine as often anymore. It's not "fashionable". A lot of the reporting I've come across is superficial and there is rarely a deep dive into the Ukrainian civilian aspect of the war. It seems there always has to be either a grotesque catastrophic event due to Russian aggression (like the Okhmatdyt children's cancer hospital), or an interesting enough topic in order for something to be considered (like the Mykola Hryshko national botanical garden being in danger of losing its tropical plants due to the war causing electricity cuts.) There is a dearth of human interest stories, which is the core of understanding this war and the effects it has on Ukrainians.

When there is such a story, it falls into the situation of the "box-ticking approach", as described by Dr. Olesya Khromeychuk:

It is not enough to simply ‘do Ukraine’ by reviewing one book on the war, especially if it’s by a Western journalist rather than a Ukraine-based author. It’s not enough to host one exhibition, particularly if it is by an artist or photographer who only spent a few weeks in the country. Quickly putting together a panel on Russia’s war in response to a major development at the front and adding a sole Ukrainian voice at the last minute doesn’t cut it either. This box-ticking approach is unhelpful and insulting.

Most if not all of the quotes I pull from human-interest stories are from Ukrainian journalism. If you've been following me for the short time I've had this blog up, you'll notice I read a lot. At this point I've given up on looking up Western based English media, because the core stories that define the war are just not there. If there is an interesting article from the West, I'll usually see it pop up on my Twitter feed (like the botanical garden story) and I'll take a look then because its been recommended and has what I'm looking for.

And finally, Western media can't let go of having some Russian expert talk about Ukraine, instead of actually talking to Ukrainians.

Kate from Kharkiv: Ukrainian media, both in Ukrainian and English, must improve their regional reporting. They are increasingly resembling local Kyiv media, which limits global awareness of events across Ukraine. Consequently, international media rarely cover these regions unless we die en mass. But not too often, because if often it is not news anymore.

Like Kate from Kharkiv points out, mass-casualty events are no longer "fashionable". She further indicates the lack of essential reporting in specific regions where conditions are different from Kyiv. One such example is the Russians turning Kherson into a "human safari". Initially, only Zarina Zabrisky was reporting on how Russian drones pilots were deliberately targeting civilians, and she shouldn't have to be the only one reporting on this. While there are some Western news outlets that have reported on this situation now, it's still not enough. Zarina Zabrisky is still diligently doing the bulk of the work in reporting on this. I can only imagine what other stories in other regions are going untold because there is little to no coverage.

The other obstacle I've noticed is accessibility to news in Ukraine from a language perspective. There isn't enough English language coverage from Ukrainian media outlets. While I would love to be able to read Ukrainian confidently, I'm nowhere near there yet, and the West is collectively even further away. Google translate isn't a great substitute either for obvious reasons. The number of times I wanted to read/watch a news report, and there was no English supplement is a lot. It happens frequently with the English language Ukrainian news accounts I follow. They'll post a clip from a news report with no translated subtitles and say, "look at this!", but I can't extract the information they want to show because of this problem.

This is why I hold volunteer translators as some of the most valuable contributors in the information space, and I will always credit them.

It's a vicious cycle. If a large proportion of Ukrainian news media is inaccessible to Western media due to the language barrier, information has even less of a chance of being noticed and spreading. This is, in my opinion, the other side of the coin on issues in the information war.

[codingquill]

What happens when you start your computer ? ( Booting a computer )

We studied this in the lecture today, and it was quite interesting. What makes something a hundred times simpler than it is? Creating a story about it. That's why I made this super fun dialog that will help you understand it all.

I've set up a drive to compile everything I create related to the Linux operating system. Feel free to explore it for more details on the topics discussed in the conversation below. Check it out here.

Have a fun read, my dear coders!

In the digital expanse of the computer, Pixel, the inquisitive parasite, is on a microventure with Binary, a wise digital guide. Together, they delve into the electronic wonders, uncovering the secrets hidden in the machine's core.

Pixel: (zooming around) Hey there! Pixel here, on a mission to demystify the tech wonders . There's a creature named Binary who knows all the ins and outs. Let's find them!

Binary: (appearing with a flicker of pixels) Pixel, greetings! Ready to explore what happens inside here?

Pixel: Absolutely! I want the full scoop. How does this thing come alive when the human outside clicks on "start"?

Binary: (with a digital chuckle) Ah, the magic of user interaction. Follow me, and I'll reveal the secrets.

(They traverse through the circuits, arriving at a glowing portal.)

Pixel: (inquiring) What's the deal with this glowing door?

Binary: (hovering) Pixel, behold the BIOS - our machine's awakening. When the human clicks "start," the BIOS kicks in, checking if our components are ready for action.

(They proceed to observe a tiny program in action.)

Pixel: (curious) Look at that little messenger running around. What's it up to?

Binary: (explaining) That, Pixel, is the bootloader. It plays courier between the BIOS and the operating system, bringing it to life.

Pixel: (excitedly buzzing) Okay! How does the computer know where to find the operating system?

Binary: Ah, Pixel, that's a tale that takes us deep into the heart of the hard disk. Follow me.

(They weave through the digital pathways, arriving at the hard disk.)

Pixel: (curious) Huh? Tell me everything!

Binary: Within this hard disk lies the treasure chest of the operating system. Let's start with the Master Boot Record (MBR).

(They approach the MBR, Binary pointing to its intricate code.)

Binary: The MBR is like the keeper of the keys. It holds crucial information about our partitions and how to find the operating system.

Pixel: (wide-eyed) What's inside?

Binary: (pointing) Take a look. This is the primary boot loader, the first spark that ignites the OS journey.

(They travel into the MBR, where lines of code reveal the primary boot loader.)

Pixel: (in awe) This tiny thing sets the whole show in motion?

Binary: (explaining) Indeed. It knows how to find the kernel of the operating system, which is the core of its existence.

(They proceed to the first partition, where the Linux kernel resides.)

Pixel: (peering into the files) This is where the OS lives, right?

Binary: (nodding) Correct, Pixel. Here lies the Linux kernel. Notice those configuration files? They're like the OS's guidebook, all written in text.

(They venture to another partition, finding it empty.)

Pixel: (confused) What's the story with this empty space?

Binary: (smirking) Sometimes, Pixel, there are barren lands on the hard disk, waiting for a purpose. It's a canvas yet to be painted.

Pixel: (reflecting) Wow! It's like a whole universe in here. I had no idea the operating system had its roots in the hard disk.

(They continue their microventure, navigating the binary landscapes of the computer's inner world.Pixel gazes at the screen where choices appear.)

Pixel: What's happening here?

Binary: (revealing) This is where the user picks the operating system. The computer patiently waits for a decision. If none comes, it follows the default path.

(They delve deeper into the digital code, where applications start blooming.)

Pixel: (amazed) It's like a digital garden of applications! What's the enchantment behind this?

Binary: (sharing) Here, Pixel, is where the applications sprout to life. The operating system nurtures them, and they blossom into the programs you see on the screen.

Pixel: (excited) But how does the machine know when the human clicks "start"?

Binary: It's the BIOS that senses this initiation. When the human triggers "start," the BIOS awakens, and we embark on this mesmerizing journey.

[broomsick]

Holy spaces & shrines in the modern norse path

Before we dive into the oh-so-diverse topic of holy spaces, let me first specify a few practical tips!

I’m very much aware that the definition of the term “holy” is deeply subjective and varies depending on one’s opinions. I’ll elaborate on a few of my thoughts on the topic further!

In no way are you bound by any rule regarding this aspect of paganism.

I will base my post off of my research, granted, but also on my personal experiences and practices!

Now, what makes a holy space sacred? Not necessarily "holy" per say, but simply sacred.

The very first factor to consider is, what is sacredness? Lots and lots of pagans engage mostly in solitary practice, so much is true. Which is why lots of us find ourselves gravitating towards spaces others may not necessarily find any sense of "sacredness" in. The corner of your room where you tend to pray the most? Sacred. Or the spot in your garden where you perform your harvest ritual every year! It’s the connection we feel to the space that makes it sacred in the first place. But a space being holy depends on whether or not we choose to anoint it in such a way.

When something is sacred to me, I tend to feel a sort of spiritual pull. A swelling of the heart, if you will, like the feeling I get when faced with a breathtaking landscape. The feeling of spiritual connection to a particular spot is the first intuition one needs to tune into when choosing a holy space. After all, staying in tune with one's intuition might be one of the most important aspect of any spiritual practice.

Within nordic practice, a holy space is often called vé, a sacred enclosure. Vé's are attested in numerous toponyms as well as ancient texts, such as Beowulf, or the Skáldskaparmál. Their omnipresence in Scandinavian toponyms might, when considered through a pagan lense, signify something quite interesting: the holiness of a space depends on the space itself, its location, rather than what's inside it— or rather, how grand and ornate it is. When building a holy space for oneself, one does not need lavish decoration, or an elaborate shrine with the gold foil and the statues.

However, there are a few steps one can follow in order to anoint a space as holy, if one wants to reconstruct a few practices from pre-Christian Scandinavia. Although I'll specify that as always, no rule is set in stone when it comes to neopaganism. The choice to abide by them or not is entirely up to the practitioner. And in any case, even as I was gathering these few ideas, it was clear that, as always, pre-Christian practices centered around holy spaces vastly differed depending on the place and the time. Regardless, I think it's fun to do some research on the topic in order to reconstruct on our own terms a holy space in the nordic tradition.

The first step? Having a good knowledge of your area. Both before and during the Viking Age, holy places were more often than not located outside. It can be a great help to know where to find the greenery in one's area. Is there a beach near home that the public has access to? How about a large park where you can spend some time alone without being bothered? Even your backyard does the trick! Anywhere you can see the sky and breathe the open air is already perfect. Now, the Germanic tribes would generally worship near an object of particular importance, such as a grove, a body of water, a clearing in the forest, a hill... Although this doesn't seem to be very present in historical attestations, and considering I'm devoted to Yngvi-Freyr, I'm an especially big fan of worshipping in plains, or fields!

I think it's important for me to note that if you are lucky enough to live near a body of water, you can choose to engage in one of the most popular forms of offering in nordic historical practice: throwing offerings out to sink into the water! This practice was especially widespread, evidence of it having been found as far as Britain and Iceland. Evidently, if one chooses to engage in such a practice, it's important to respect the ecosystems and stick with offerings that won't damage them (acorns, stones, flowers and the like). As for an outdoors shrine located in a forest, or near woodland, it would have been customary during pre-Christian times to center a holy space around a tall tree, perhaps representing the World Tree Yggdrasil.

Considering lots of neo-pagans prefer to keep their practice discreet, it goes without saying that the holy space of your choosing does not need to be especially big, nor especially decorated. It can be as small as it is humble! One of the spaces where I most like to worship is the little corner of the yard, tucked under a cedar tree, where I rebuild my hörgr every year, as soon as the snow melts for good. Nothing too flamboyant!

Now, the second step to building a little outdoors shrine for yourself is to choose a representation of the deity to adore. It's said that the human-like appearance of this representation mattered little to the Germanic tribes, whose representations of the Gods could be rather simple, and not especially ornate. For this reason, it would be perfectly logical to even choose an object associated with the deity in question to serve as the main representation placed in the sanctuary. If we're talking about Freyja, a falcon statuette, or feather could do the trick! As for Fenrir, any wolf imagery could work as well! In the case of Thórr, one could replicate the case of Donar's Oak and choose to center their shrine around a particular tree (the rowan are the oak would make the best choices, if one is to pick a tree sacred to Thórr). These are just examples, and the possibilities in this regard are limitless. This "main" representation can be used as the center of your sacred space, and given offerings during rituals or celebrations. In my case, I like greet this representation both when "entering" the sacred space and when leaving it, as a sign of respect!

If one so desires, it's possible to set up some kind of "delimitation" in order to mark the entrance of the sacred space, or its outline. I like to place either ribbons on nearby branches, or litter stones here and there to lie in a loose circle (we wouldn't want to block the rays of the sun from reaching the earth and keep the greenery from growing). In order to signal the entrance of shrines, the Germanic tribes would generally use heaps of dirt or pillars of stone, among other things.

Another intresting element one might include in their sacred space is the presence of fire! Whether this be a bonfire, incense, a simple candle or even just a handful of ash, there's lots of ways to include the "element" of fire into a modern day shrine. It's a means of warming up the space, so to speak: tending a fire in the shrine is akin to having a hearth in the home!

Ideas for common, historically attested offerings: Ethically-sourced animal bones, gold or golden jewelry, tools, representation of the Gods, beads and beaded jewelry, alcohol, food and meat…

Now, let's pull away from the history lesson and let's dive into modern, neo-pagan practice! I'd wager some of you are wondering, how exactly can one keep a whole shrine, but make their practice as low-key as possible?! After all, I know firsthand that solo practice is especially common among neo-pagans. So my answer to this question is, who said anything about keeping? One piece of advice I've already given to a few fellow pagans in the past is to create a little portable shrine all to yourself! Let me explain myself: you arrive at your chosen location, you put down a basket full of decoration and you put up a temporary space in which to worship for an hour or two. You take out a deity representation, a few candles (if they're allowed on site!), a handful of offerings and a cloth on which to place them. And when you're done with the ritual, you pack up your things and make sure you leave the site as clean as when you first found it. In other words, what I’m suggesting is the possibility of gathering a few designated worship items in order to make oneself a portable, personal little shrine! It might seem like a silly idea at first, but I’ve discovered it’s not only a fun habit, but it’s also greatly helpful on a tight schedule to have a quick and easy way to engage in outdoors practice.

As always, I wrote this post aiming to help fellow pagans find ways to balance historical practice and modern, solo practice! I hope these few ideas did the trick, and wish you all a good and plentiful spring season!

First picture

[astrologged]

Flora

Flora (8) is associated with the concepts of beauty, growth, abundance, and nature. It represents the energies of growth and flourishing, and the ability to manifest beauty and abundance in your life. Flora is associated with the beauty and growth of nature, and indicates a strong connection to the natural world. It’s also associated with creativity, especially in fields related to art, music, and design. Flora can also represent fertility and the ability to nurture and care for others. Its placement in a birth chart indicates how someone expresses their creativity and how they approach matters related to beauty, abundance, and growth.

Flora in Aries/1st house: A love of new beginnings and a desire for independence. Creative expression can be related to sports or physical activities. They possess a natural beauty, are physically attractive, and have a green thumb, they’ll enjoy gardening.

Flora in Taurus/2nd house: A strong connection to nature and a love of beautiful things. Has artistic abilities related to floral design or gardening. May find abundance and growth through money, possessions, and material resources.

Flora in Gemini/3rd house: A need for mental stimulation and variety, with a love of learning and communication. Have a talent for writing or speaking about topics related to nature or beauty. Gifted in communication and have a natural talent for writing, speaking, or teaching about nature and the environment.

Flora in Cancer/4th house: A nurturing and compassionate nature, with a love of family and home. They’ll have artistic abilities related to cooking or creating a cozy and beautiful living space. Finds comfort and growth in their home environment and have a natural connection to the land they live on.

Flora in Leo/5th house: A love of attention and the spotlight, with a creative flair and a desire to express oneself artistically. They have a talent for performance or visual arts. Creative and artistic, with a love for creating and appreciating beauty in all forms.

Flora in Virgo/6th house: A desire for perfection and a love of organization, with a talent for detail-oriented tasks. Have a talent for floral arrangements or other forms of precise artistic expression. Finds growth and abundance through health and wellness practices, and have a natural talent for herbalism or alternative medicine.

Flora in Libra/7th house: A love of beauty and harmony, with a desire to create balance and peace in one's surroundings. They have a talent for interior design or other forms of visual arts. Has a natural ability to attract and foster positive relationships, and may find growth and abundance through partnerships.

Flora in Scorpio/8th house: A deep and intense connection to nature and the mysteries of life, with a desire to explore the darker side of beauty. They have a talent for creating art that expresses hidden emotions or taboo topics. They have a natural talent for cultivating abundance through shared resources, such as investments or joint ventures.

Flora in Sagittarius/9th house: A love of adventure and exploration, with a desire to seek out new and beautiful places. They might have a talent for photography or other forms of artistic expression that capture the essence of nature. Finds growth and abundance through travel, exploration, and education, particularly in environmental or natural sciences.

Flora in Capricorn/10th house: A practical and disciplined approach to artistic expression, with a desire to create lasting beauty. They have a talent for architecture or other forms of structural design. They might find success and growth in careers related to nature, such as farming, landscaping, or environmental activism.

Flora in Aquarius/11th house: A desire to express oneself in unique and unconventional ways, with a love of experimentation and originality. They have a talent for creating art that challenges traditional concepts of beauty. Has a natural ability to connect with others who share a passion for nature and they find growth and abundance through like-minded communities.

Flora in Pisces/12th house: A deep and intuitive connection to nature and the spiritual aspects of beauty. They have a talent for creating art that evokes emotions and transcends the physical realm. They have a deep spiritual connection to nature and they find growth and abundance through practices such as meditation, dream work, or shamanic journeying.

[glimmervoi]

A SEALED FATE: EMERALDS AND BLOOD - IX You Are Mine

masterlist

e&b masterlist

Notes: Hope this chapter is alright, idk what was wrong with me but every time i tried to revise it i just didnt have the patience.

Two weeks passed since the tragic demise of Lady Rosalyn Pyke. Her identity was revealed to you after her brother, Lord Pyke, openly confronted the King, holding him accountable for his sister's untimely death within the castle walls.

Refusing to tolerate Lord Pyke's grief-fueled behavior, the King swiftly condemned him to hang the following day. The execution unfolded in front of a crowd, conducted in the dead gardens adjacent to the south wing. Attendance was mandatory, even for the servants.

Fortunately, you found yourself positioned at the rear of the crowd alongside the other maids, shielding you from a full view of the grim spectacle. Despite this, the haunting sound of Lord Pyke's neck snapping upon the kick of the stool resonated in your memory, lingering for the past two weeks.

Life within the castle now carried an air of unease. The elusive murderer remained at large, casting a shadow of fear over everyone. Guards loomed at every turn, their presence unbearable, while the departure of most of the castle's guests left behind an eerie quiet. Even the yule celebration had been canceled.

Although Namjoon had cleared you and Rae of any suspicion, the lingering gaze of the castle's guards continued to prick at your nerves. The constant scrutiny left you on edge, acutely aware that any misstep would not go unnoticed.

Sanria had yet to resume her duties as head maid, leaving Isabella to assume the position in her absence. Despite the recent problems in the castle, her gentle demeanor remained unchanged, her cheerful spirit a constant and welcoming presence. She evaded questions regarding Sanria and after the first week, the topic was forgotten.

Rae, noticeably withdrawn, seemed haunted by the events she had witnessed. You couldn't help but speculate if her quiet attitude also stemmed from the uncertainty surrounding her superior's fate and the lack of communication regarding it, given her direct role as Sanria's subordinate. 

Observing Alice's persistent efforts to uplift Rae's spirits, it became increasingly evident to you that their bond was more than a mere friendship. It was evident in the tender gestures they shared, from intertwined hands to soft kisses planted on each other's cheeks. It made you glad that the solemn redhead had a person who she was close with during such a stressful time.

Winter raged beyond the castle's sturdy walls, only growing colder in the  aftermath of Lady Pyke's tragic demise. A mere week following the murder, the first heavy snow fell, blanketing the landscape in pristine white. It was during one of your routine walks down the hall, burdened with a weighty bucket of water, that you stole a fleeting glance out the window. You had caught sight of Jimin and Taehyung frolicking in the snow-covered fields.

Their carefree actions amidst the grim investigation of Pyke’s murder left you wondering. How could they remain so seemingly unaffected by the brutality that had unfolded? Yet, they were not the sole members of royalty to exhibit such nonchalance. One chilly morning, you stumbled upon Prince Seokjin engaging in precisely the behavior Isabella had cautioned you about.

The strikingly handsome prince leaned casually against the wall, his trousers undone and hanging loosely. His hands were entwined in the brown locks of a woman kneeling before him, mercifully obscuring the most inappropriate aspects of his exposed lower half.

It wasn't Lady Woong. You found yourself frozen in shock, cheeks flushed and mouth agape as Seokjin's gaze locked with yours, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Summoning what composure you could muster, you offered a hasty and apologetic bow, scrambling to excuse yourself from the unexpected and scandalous scene.

He had the audacity to request a towel while his fingers remained entangled in the woman's hair. Despite the shock and discomfort, you complied, unwilling to burden Rae with such a task as she grappled with the aftermath of the murder.

As you handed him the towel, your fingers brushed against his, sparking an unfamiliar sensation within you. It was like an unquenchable thirst. After being excused by Seokjin, you hurried away and hid in the servants' kitchen. There, you hastily downed four tall cups of water. Yet the dryness in your mouth persisted for hours afterwards. You were certain that on that day you had drank enough water to create a new river, as thick and deep as the one that surrounded the castle.

You had pondered whether the feeling stemmed from the effects of the stress that you had felt since Lady Pyke's death, along with the uncertainty of where you stood with Hoseok. You had pushed the thought aside, preoccupied with the myriad of tasks that consumed your days, as you were now confined to the southern wing.

Shortly thereafter, a clumsy mishap with cleaning supplies in front of Namjoon resulted in your prompt dismissal to your chambers with directions to "practice holding things properly." As he strode away, a melody unfamiliar to your ears escaped his lips, echoing down the hallway.

Encountering Namjoon had evoked a strange sense of reassurance, despite the unyielding firmness of his features when he looked down at you. It was then that you finally attributed the odd sensations to the tumultuous events since your arrival at the castle, recognizing that your mind was not quite settled amidst the chaos.

Fortunately, encounters with other princes had been limited to Namjoon and Seokjin. The mere thought of crossing paths with Hoseok again ignited a deep uneasiness that caused a cold sweat to form on your skin. The persistent uncertainty surrounding his intentions was tiring, sapping your energy with each passing moment.

While Isabella had hinted at Hoseok's kindness among the princes, you remained cautious. His perceived kindness did not render him safe; the potential to provoke his anger lingered ominously, something you were determined to avoid at all costs.

What did he seek from you, anyway? A night in his bed? A plaything for his amusement? His interest in you left you confused and uncomfortable. What quality or trait could possibly compel him to bother you? There were plenty of other Ladies of the court who constantly sought his attention.

At the ball, Hoseok's order to accompany him elsewhere was interrupted by Jimin, a moment that reminded you of Kassie's tragic fate—deceived, impregnated, and ultimately abandoned in the dungeons. Would you too be ensnared in a similar web of deceit, or would your fate unfold in a more unpleasant manner, given Hoseok's princely status?

Exhaling a frustrated sigh, you shook off the disturbing thoughts, pulling yourself from the comfort of your warm blanket. The subtle movements of the other maids signaled the beginning of another day. It was time to get up and get to work. There was no point in attempting to stay in bed for any longer.

As you stretched, the satisfying release of a few joints echoed in the quiet room, accompanied by a soft groan of relief. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, a shiver coursed through you as the chilly floor met your bare feet. Glancing toward Rae's bed, you spotted a tuft of her red hair peeking out from underneath her blanket.

Rae typically took the lead in rousing the other maids, ensuring punctuality to avoid any repercussions for tardiness. However, thanks to her change in behavior, you had begun to take on the responsibility of waking her first, a gesture you knew she would appreciate.

"Time to rise and shine," you murmured softly, nudging her gently beneath the covers. As she reluctantly emerged from her slumber, wrinkling her nose in annoyance, you couldn't help but chuckle at her sleepy protest. With a swift motion, you pulled the blanket away, revealing her disheveled appearance as she groaned and sought refuge under the covers once more.

Rolling your eyes at her antics, you decided to tease her a bit. "You know," you began, feigning nonchalance as you stepped back, "I heard a rumor that Sanria will be making her grand return today. Could that be her?" A mischievous grin tugged at your lips as you watched Rae's reaction unfold.

Suddenly alert, Rae looked around the room with bleary, confused eyes. "What?" she exclaimed, her voice still rough with sleep. "Where? When? What's happening?" Her rapid-fire questions echoed through the room as she searched frantically for any signs of Sanria's impending arrival.

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you retrieved your uniform from its place on the wall. "Seems like you're finally joining the land of the living," you teased gently, sliding out of your nightgown. "Time to shake off the sleepiness and get ready for the day."

Rae shot you a playful glare once she realized your ruse, pushing the thin blanket away before unsteadily rising to her feet. "That was uncalled for," she grumbled half-heartedly, her irritation tempered by a hint of amusement.

"Better to be safe than sorry, right?" you countered with a grin, slipping into your uniform as Rae began to dress herself. With practiced efficiency, you both set about the task of rousing the remaining maids who had yet to stir from their slumber.

This routine was becoming a familiar one, save for the playful jokes about Sanria's return. You would awaken early to think about life, then ensure Rae was up before attending to your own morning routine. Occasionally, there would be time for a quick breakfast before commencing your daily duties.

The next phase of your routine involved meeting Isabella in the supply room. There, you'd receive your daily tasks, complete about half of them before breaking for a modest lunch, then finish the remainder before returning to your chambers to change into your leisure uniform so that you could enjoy dinner.

It was a straightforward regimen, admittedly dull. But in the castle, dullness was preferable to danger, and you found solace in its simplicity.

Today would be like any other day, no doubt. Skipping breakfast, you headed straight to Isabella, greeted by her customary friendly smile. She handed you a large list of tasks. Cleaning half of the south wing would make up the first portion of your day.

Loading up your cart, you set off silently toward the south wing. Conversation with Rae seemed futile; any attempt would likely draw unwanted attention from the arrogant guards, a hassle you preferred to avoid.

The sun seemed to ascend with unusual haste as you trudged down the hushed hallway. Its gentle warmth permeated the cold hall. Bathed in its golden glow, you found a fleeting sense of calm. It was as though the sun was chasing away any lingering nightmares that wandered the halls.

Silent maids darted about, engrossed in their own tasks yet casting furtive glances over their shoulders, their demeanor reminiscent of the day you first arrived at the castle. Such fearful silence had become a familiar backdrop, one you had grown accustomed to over time.

Upon entering the south wing, Rae consulted the list. “We should begin in the library.” She said quietly, her near-whisper almost sounding too loud. Nodding in agreement, you gestured toward a pair of large double doors at the end of the first-floor corridor.

"I'll handle the doors," you murmured quietly, approaching them. You pushed against them, wanting to groan at the weight that protested against you. They had to be the heaviest of all the doors in the entire castle.

With a determined effort, the heavy doors yielded, revealing a breathtaking sight within. The spacious room was bathed in hues of blue and gold, the high bookshelves adorning the walls and forming intricate rows on the floor, inviting exploration. 

A sweet aroma of aged parchment lingered in the air, enticing you to breathe deeply, momentarily lost in the comforting scent. Your gaze was drawn upward to the grandeur of the glass dome ceiling, through which the soft light of day streamed in, casting enchanting patterns of birds and clouds drifting lazily overhead.

Despite the room's magnificence, a pang of sorrow gripped you as you realized that your time here would be limited to cleaning duties. Shaking off the wistful thoughts, you stepped aside, allowing Rae to maneuver the cart into the room.

Silently, you both set to work, the only sounds punctuating the tranquil atmosphere being the gentle swish of your feather duster against the wooden bookshelves, the soft sighs of Rae as she tended to the shiny hardwood floor, and the rhythmic clicking of your footsteps as you moved about.

The tranquility of the room enveloped you, offering moments of respite amidst the tasks at hand. Whenever you dared, you allowed yourself to pause and simply drink in your surroundings, feeling a sense of awe wash over you. 

Midway through your cleaning duties, the peaceful ambiance shattered as the doors opened loudly once more. You watched as Rae scurried out from behind the towering shelves and into the center of the room, where she bowed deeply. It was no doubt someone of high importance. Not wanting to create more trouble for yourself, you quickly joined Rae in the center of the room. You mirrored her bow, your eyes fixed to the ground.

An odd feeling filled your stomach, as if you had consumed a vial of poison. Nervously, you waited for permission to return to your duties. 

"It appears we've interrupted your morning cleaning," a soft voice remarked, its tone gentle and inviting. It carried a warmth that instilled an immediate sense of trust, despite that leaden feeling at the bottom of your stomach. "I hope you won't mind if we sit and chat while you finish up?"

"No, not at all, ma'am," you murmured, your fingers nervously toying with the hem of your apron. "We will leave you if you wish for us to do so." Please, let us leave. Please.

"Ma'am?" a deeper voice interjected, laced with disdain. "Don't you mean, 'Your Highness'? You should know better." The heat of embarrassment flushed your cheeks as you bowed again, preparing to apologize, but the soft voice intervened once more.

"It's quite alright, Jinnie," the gentle voice reassured. There was a rustling of fabric, the sound of someone drawing nearer. Then, the bottom of a deep red gown came into view, halting before you. "You may look at me."

Hesitantly, you complied. Your gaze slowly ascended, tracing the elegant lines of the crimson gown and the glittering jewels adorning its bodice. Your eyes paused at the pale, slender neck, and the sizable emerald necklace that hung from it, too afraid to venture further. Even without seeing her face, you knew precisely who you were speaking with.

With a delicate touch, she extended her slender hand and gently guided your chin upward, prompting you to meet her gaze. The Queen herself wished for direct eye contact. The notion was both daunting and terrifying.

"What is your name, dear?" she inquired, her voice soft yet commanding, as your eyes finally met hers.

You responded with a trembling voice, your gaze wide with astonishment. The Queen, touching you and speaking to you directly— it was surreal. Her eyes, deep and dark, seemed to harbor something ominous, sending a shiver down your spine.

She hummed softly, releasing your chin as a small smile found its way to her lips. "Well, my dear," she continued, her tone measured. "Would it be too much trouble if my sons and I had some morning tea here while you attended to your cleaning duties?" Her question left you dumbfounded, your mouth agape in disbelief.

She was the Queen. She didn't require permission to occupy her own library. This was her domain, and you were merely a servant. Why, then, did she seek your consent? With a raised brow, she awaited your response, her expectant gaze fixed upon you.

"Of course not, Your Highness!" you exclaimed, your voice quivering as you bowed once more. "Please, tell us if there is anything we can do for you."

Your gaze finally shifted past the Queen to identify her companion. Clad in a relaxed cream-colored suit stood Seokjin, his sneer aimed down at you with unmistakable disdain. It was evident that he had been the one to correct you  just moments ago.

However, as a flicker of recognition crossed his features, his smirk widened, and your cheeks flushed deeper with embarrassment. You couldn't shake the memory of your last encounter with the eldest Prince, and you wondered if his mother was aware of the scandalous behavior he had engaged in within the castle walls.

"What a delightful surprise," drawled another voice from the opposite side of the Queen. Instantly recognizable, it sent a jolt of alarm through you, betraying your unease despite your attempts to maintain composure.

You slowly turned your gaze towards Hoseok, who greeted you with a broad smile. Unlike his mother and brother, he opted for more casual attire. Although undoubtedly expensive, his clothes lacked the grandeur of his breakfast companions.

He wore a loose, billowing white blouse, haphazardly tucked into faded brown trousers. The untied string at the neckline exposed a glimpse of his collarbone and chest. His well-worn boots, though of high quality, bore the marks of use, reminiscent of the stableboy uniform he had worn on the day of your first encounter. Yet, today’s attire was of a higher quality, as if he sought comfort without the need to masquerade as something he wasn't.

The Queen's gentle clearing of her throat interrupted your brief staring contest with the tall prince. Returning your attention to her, you were met with another small smile. "We'll be taking a seat, then," she announced gracefully, before proceeding further into the room.

Seokjin followed his mother, casting you a peculiar glance as he passed by. Meanwhile, Hoseok remained rooted in place, his presence sending a wave of unease coursing through your gut. Your past interactions with him hadn't yielded anything positive, and you desperately did not want to be alone with him again.

"Would you mind fetching a pot of tea for us?" Hoseok's request pierced the air, his gaze fixed on you. "The morning tea should be laid out and ready to pour in the kitchen, as usual."

An uncertain glance over your shoulder revealed that Seokjin and his mother were engaged in conversation, while Rae watched you with apprehensive eyes. She seemed to consider something mentally, before she approached.

"Sir, would you like me to retrieve your tea?" Rae interjected, her shoulders tense. "I have more experience, so I will be able to select the correct item.”

Hoseok's gaze sharpened, his smile taking on a predatory edge. "No, I specifically asked for her to retrieve the tea," he replied curtly, dismissing Rae with a wave of his hand. "You may return to your duties."

Your heart sank, however you exchanged a thankful glance with Rae. At least she had attempted to intervene. With a respectful nod, you bowed to Hoseok. "Of course, Sir," you replied, before briskly making your exit without looking back.

As you swiftly made your way down the now-deserted hallway, the sound of the door opening and closing behind you caught your attention. Moments later, a familiar warmth enveloped your shoulder as a hand gently guided you to a stop.

"I wanted to speak with you," Hoseok began softly, his touch urging you to face him. "But I preferred to do so away from my mother and the other maid."

Your stomach churned as you stared up at him. You couldn't decide whether it would be better if he intended to flirt with you again or to reprimand you. Frankly, you simply wished to avoid any further interaction with him altogether.

"How are you feeling?" Hoseok inquired after a brief, awkward silence. His large hand cupped your cheek, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. Startled by his sudden gesture, you instinctively recoiled, backing away from him in alarm.

"I'm quite alright, Sir. Why do you ask?" you murmured, deliberately averting your gaze to his chest. Despite your initial reluctance, the notion of a night spent in his bed was beginning to seem appealing, as long as it meant he would leave you alone afterwards.

Hoseok's frown deepened, and he withdrew his hand, allowing it to fall to his side. "At the ball not long ago, you were punished by the head maid for conversing with me," he clarified, stepping closer. Instinctively, you backed away, maintaining a respectable distance between your bodies.

"I took it upon myself to... remove her from her position. Both of them," he continued, a smile playing at his lips. Although his expression appeared benign, the underlying darkness in his words was unmistakable. Your mouth fell agape in astonishment. Alice had made no mention of Iseul's disappearance, as she had been the one to administer your punishment. However, Sanria, who had silently observed the ordeal, had now vanished, thanks to Hoseok's intervention.

"You didn't have to do that!" you protested, your eyes widening in disbelief. "Of course I didn't enjoy the punishment, but that's just the way things are done here! It wouldn't be fair to expect special treatment when others don't receive the same kindness."

Hoseok's brown eyes clouded with an unfamiliar emotion, prompting you to hastily clamp your mouth shut, fearing his potential wrath. His jaw tensed and relaxed several times before he spoke again.

"Either way," he said, his tone clipped. "No one will lay their hands on you. You're not theirs to hurt." With a rough grip, he seized your chin, his demeanor shifting from jovial to menacing in an instant. "And that little blonde whore? She had no right to treat you the way she did, either."

His words struck you like a physical blow, and it took only a moment for their full weight to sink in. As terrified tears welled in your eyes, Hoseok made sure to drive his point home, leaving you no room for doubt.

As Hoseok recounted the disturbing events in vivid detail, a nauseating sense of satisfaction twisted his features. "I'll do it again, too," he declared, his voice tinged with darkness as he offered you a sinister smile. "I'll do it as many times as it takes to make my point clear. No one should ever treat you as anything less than a Queen."

His gaze bore into yours, waiting for any response, but you were unable to find the words, overwhelmed by shock and fear. Your mind raced, your heart pounding relentlessly in your chest. Sensing your silence as surrender, he advanced towards you, his grip on your chin tightening as he closed the distance between your bodies.

You didn’t move as he gently worked his lips against yours. Your stiffness didn’t seem to bother him as he groaned softly, his hand caressing your cheek. It was overwhelming for you. The close contact, the terror that coursed through your veins from his confession.

You were letting a murderous prince kiss you, the same one who had just informed you that he would willingly kill again. You had only spoken with him a few times, and he was already this obsessed with you?

The kiss seemed to last an eternity, before he finally pulled away. A satisfied expression graced his features as he swiped his thumb across your lips. Then, he backed away slightly, allowing more space between you both. His hands still held you, your skin tingling once more as it had at the winter ball.

His brown eyes now held a warm fondness, which was a stark contrast to his dark behavior from only a moment before. It was terrifying, and you suppressed a shiver.

You allowed him to hold you close as you struggled to find your voice amidst the turmoil of emotions. The last thing you wanted was to provoke his wrath. After all, he was the one responsible for Lady Pyke's murder—a brutal and chilling act that still haunted your thoughts. The mere contemplation of what he might do caused a surge of anxiety to envelope you.

Finally, summoning a flicker of courage, you drew in a deep breath and posed the question, "What do you want from me?" His response was delivered with a smile that mirrored the patronizing gaze of a parent faced with an obvious question from their child—a look that practically dripped with condescension.

"I love you," he stated firmly. "I want you to be mine. You are mine." His words left no room for debate, his tone resolute. Yet, his declaration did not soothe you, especially considering the heinous act he had committed.

"You've only spoken to me three times!" you pointed out, a frown creasing your brow. "How can you claim to love someone so profoundly after only knowing them for such a brief period?" As you placed your hands on his chest, intending to create distance, he misinterpreted your gesture and drew you closer instead.

"It was love at first sight," he murmured softly, his hand gently caressing your cheek once again. You tensed, hoping that he didn’t kiss you again. "I don't understand it either. One day, I was daydreaming about breakfast, and the next, I was dreaming of you. It was as if a fire had ignited within my soul, and it hasn't dimmed since."

You shook your head, struggling to comprehend his words. Was he hinting at something more? Was it sex he spoke of? No, surely he wouldn't go to such lengths just for physical desire. Yet, attempting to delve further into his explanation seemed futile.

"I'm just a maid. We can't be together. It goes against the laws of the kingdom," you asserted, averting your gaze from his. "We could both face severe punishment. The King and Queen would not approve."

Growing increasingly frustrated and feeling suffocated, you summoned the strength to push yourself away from his embrace. Every fiber of your being screamed for this nightmare to end. Part of you wished desperately that it was all an elaborate hoax, that he was merely toying with you. Yet, deep down, you knew the grim reality.

Hoseok was genuinely unhinged, convinced that you were the love of his life. He was willing to commit unspeakable acts for you, perhaps even harm you if provoked. He was a dangerous man, and it would be nothing short of reckless to deny him. But did you still do it? Yes.

"I can't marry you," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze. Though his expression remained gentle, his words carried a sharpness that sent a chill down your spine.

"Of course you can," he murmured, a subtle arch of his brow accompanying his words. "I won't allow the court or my parents to stand in our way. You belong with me, and I'll do whatever it takes to ensure it becomes a reality."

You shook your head in disbelief. "No, Prince—" you started, only to be swiftly interrupted as he waved his hand dismissively.

"Please, my love," he interjected, his tone softening. "Drop the formalities. Just call me Hobi."

You rubbed your face harshly, the weight of desperation pressing down upon you. All you craved was to escape from him. "Prince Hoseok, I do not want to marry you!" you declared, your voice laced with anger, punctuated by the sharp stomp of your foot. But in the next moment, you realized your mistake.

His soft expression dissolved into one of fury in the blink of an eye. Before you could react, he seized you and forcefully pushed you against the wall. Towering over you, his face contorted into a menacing snarl.

“Do not decline me, my love.” He said, his voice low and dark. His face was inches from yours. “You will come to regret it.” He ran a thumb over your lip gently.

You stared up at him in horror as he breathed, “You will be mine.”

You couldn't help but berate yourself for your foolishness. Wedged between a rigid wall and a raging, erratic Prince, every instinct urged you to surrender. After all, he was a Prince. He was wealthy, had status and influence, and appeared to harbor genuine affection for you. Perhaps accepting his advances could lead to a life of relative comfort and ease? And of course, it could be safer than making him angry…

Once more, you felt a surge of defiance flow through you. You found the strength to reject him yet again. "No, I can't." In response, he pressed you even harder against the unyielding wall, his grip on your arms tightening painfully.

"Then I will make you regret it. You will come back to me, begging," he sneered, his words like icy daggers piercing through your resolve. As his grip finally loosened, you felt a rush of relief, though it was quickly overshadowed again by fear. You screwed your eyes shut, tears welling up, bracing for what would come next. Then, unexpectedly, he planted a gentle kiss on your cheek. "And, of course, I will take you back with open arms."

As he pulled away, you slid to the ground, feeling utterly defeated. "My room is the one on the second floor, at the very end," he said, stepping away. "When you come to your senses, do not be afraid to come find me. If I were you, I would do it sooner than later." His words echoed in your mind as you watched him leave, leaving you alone with your turmoil.

He took one last look at you before disappearing through the double doors to the library. As the door clicked shut, the hallway once once again filled with silence. Once you were sure that he wouldn’t return, you scrambled to your feet and rushed to the storage closet closest to you. There, you fell to the ground and curled your body, tears falling from your eyes as his words echoed in your mind like a haunting song.

"You are mine. You are mine. You are mine." Each repetition felt like a heavy weight pressing down on your chest, suffocating you with a sense of helplessness and dread.

[visit-new-york]

Are there guided tours or educational programs offered at Brooklyn Bridge Park?

Brooklyn Bridge Park stands as an iconic and expansive waterfront destination that offers breathtaking views of the Manhattan skyline, the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Statue of Liberty. Beyond its natural beauty, the park has become a hub for recreational activities, cultural events, and educational programs. In this article, we delve into the various educational initiatives and guided tours available at Brooklyn Bridge Park.

Educational Programs:

Brooklyn Bridge Park is not only a place for leisure but also an educational resource for visitors of all ages. The park hosts a range of educational programs designed to connect people with the environment and promote an understanding of the park's ecosystems. These programs cover topics such as ecology, sustainability, and urban wildlife.

Environmental Education Programs:

Led by knowledgeable educators, these programs focus on the park's diverse ecosystems, including its marshes, meadows, and gardens.

Participants may engage in hands-on activities, wildlife observation, and interactive workshops to deepen their understanding of urban ecology.

Sustainability Initiatives:

Brooklyn Bridge Park is committed to sustainability, and educational programs often highlight the park's green practices.

Topics may include recycling efforts, composting, and the use of renewable energy sources within the park.

Guided Tours:

Exploring Brooklyn Bridge Park on your own can be rewarding, but guided tours offer a more immersive and informative experience. Whether you're a local or a visitor, these tours provide insights into the park's history, design, and natural features.

Architectural Tours:

Led by knowledgeable guides, these tours delve into the park's architectural features, providing a historical perspective on the transformation of the waterfront.

Participants learn about the park's design elements, the role of landscape architecture, and the integration of public art.

Ecological Tours:

Guided ecological tours focus on the park's unique ecosystems, offering participants the chance to explore the diverse flora and fauna.

Knowledgeable naturalists lead these tours, providing insights into the park's biodiversity and the importance of urban green spaces.

Historical and Cultural Tours:

These tours take participants on a journey through the history of Brooklyn Bridge Park, exploring its evolution from industrial waterfront to a vibrant public space.

Cultural aspects, such as public art installations and events, are also highlighted during these tours.

Conclusion:

Brooklyn Bridge Park is not only a picturesque destination but also a rich source of educational opportunities and guided tours. Whether you're interested in the park's ecological diversity, architectural design, or historical significance, there are programs and tours tailored to cater to a variety of interests. So, the next time you visit Brooklyn Bridge Park, consider immersing yourself in one of these educational experiences to gain a deeper appreciation for this urban oasis.

[tytarax]

Hello!

I'm in love with Daishinkan, may I ask you for a headcanon Daishinkan/reader? The reader is a person and friend to Zeno(replaces Goku who trains against Black Goku) and if they knew each other for a couple years, the reader and Daishinkan could have fake dates and "relationships" in front of Goku's team(reader and priest troll the team)? I'm sure Bulma, Chichi and any of the other girls want to see the reader's relationship, but the only thing they see is a sly alien angel who is constantly giving his "mate" little things like cool rocks or something like that

Hi! OMG this is so cute!

(female pronouns)

(Image credits to its creator ZahyZamas on DeviantArt)

In the grand halls of the Omni-King's palace, tranquility reigned supreme. Daishinkan, also known as the Grand Priest, attended to his duties, his serene expression never betraying the chaos that often ensued in the universes under his watch. Yet, even in this order, mischief had a way of sneaking in, especially when a certain human friend of Zeno-sama was involved.

Y/N had found herself in the company of gods and angels, forming a kinda bond with the Omni-King himself. Over the years, she had become a familiar face in the palace, her mortal quirks and humor a refreshing change for the otherwise stoic inhabitants. And it was this very humor that had led her to an unconventional partnership with Daishinkan.

It all started as a joke, a way to pass the time and perhaps add a bit of excitement to the daily routine. The idea was simple: pretend to be in a "relationship" with the Grand Priest and see how long it would take for everyone to catch on. The sheer absurdity of it was too tempting to resist.

Today, Y/N was lounging in Capsule Corp's garden, admiring the landscape that surrounded her. The sudden appearance of a portal and a known energy announced the arrival of her "partner in crime."

"Ah, there you are," Daishinkan greeted, his voice calm as ever. He held out his hand, revealing a collection of sparkling rocks. "I found these during my duties. I thought you might like them."

Y/N couldn't help but smile. "Oh, Daishinkan-sama, you always know how to find the best gifts," she replied, playing along with the act.

Unbeknownst to them both, Bulma, Chichi, and 18 were observing from a distance, their curiosity piqued by the unusual sight. Bulma, ever the skeptic, squinted suspiciously. "Since when did the Grand Priest start giving gifts?"

Chichi, on the other hand, was more intrigued than suspicious. "Do you think they're together?"

"I wouldn't blame Y/N if they were together." 18 said. Which was to be expected if you see her husband.

Before anyone could say anything, Daishinkan turned to Y/N with an almost imperceptible glint of amusement in his eyes. "Shall we take a stroll through Grand Zeno's gardens, my dear?"

"Of course, darling," she replied, standing up from the ground and passing through the portal with Daishinkan's help. The two of them made sure to maintain a respectable distance, the perfect picture of a couple enjoying a leisurely walk.

Back in their hiding spot, Goku, who was also there but didn't notice at first, and his friends were practically buzzing with excitement. "I can't believe it," Goku muttered. "They really do look like a couple."

Bulma smirked. "I have to admit, it would be kinda cute. But we need more proof."

---

Over the next few days, Y/N and Daishinkan continued their charade, each interaction more elaborate than the last. Y/N exchanged playful banter shared meals, and even staged romantic moments under the stars. All the while, her friends watched with growing fascination.

One evening, as the group gathered at Capsule Corp., Bulma couldn't resist bringing up the topic. "So, (Y/N), how's your 'relationship' with the Grand Priest going?"

Y/N fought the urge to laugh, keeping her expression neutral. "Oh, it's wonderful. He even gave me this amazing flower bouquet with flowers from all universes. He's so thoughtful."

Chichi leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "You have to tell us more! What's he like as a partner?"

"I strive to be attentive to (Y/N)'s needs. It is important to cherish those we care about." A sudden voice startled everyone, Y/N blushed like crazy. What the hell!?

Thing is, he was not present, yet his voice echoed through the place like that of a god.

The room fell silent, everyone processing the Grand Priest's words. For a moment, it seemed as though they might actually believe the ruse.

Then, Goku, ever the oblivious one, spoke up. "I still can't believe it. I mean, you and the Grand Priest? It's just so… unexpected."

Y/N stared at him while thinking what to say, struggling to keep a straight face. "Love works in mysterious ways," she said with a shrug.

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "Come on, you two. There's got to be more to the story. How did this all start?"

Y/N leaned back, feigning a dreamy expression. "Well, it was a few years ago. I was just wandering around the palace, and Daishinkan noticed I seemed a bit out of place. He offered to show me around, and one thing led to another. We just clicked."

"Indeed. I found (Y/N)'s perspective on life quite refreshing. It is not often that we encounter someone with such a unique view of the universe."

Chi-Chi sighed, clearly enchanted by the story. "That's so sweet. It's like something out of a fairy tale."

Krillin, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. "So, do you two have any plans for the future? Any big romantic gestures we should know about?"

Y/N grinned, somehow feeling the smirk on Daishinkan's face "Well, we were thinking of organizing a little event. Something fun for everyone."

Goku's eyes lit up. "An event? Like a tournament?"

Daishinkan chuckled softly. "Not quite, Goku. More like a celebration. A chance for all of us to come together and enjoy each other's company."

As the evening wore on, the topic shifted to other matters, but the seed of curiosity had been planted. Y/N and Daishinkan continued their act, each day bringing new opportunities to playfully "troll" everyone.

---

One afternoon, she found herself in the training grounds of the holy world, or whatever the name is, watching Goku and Vegeta spar. Daishinkan leaned over and whispered, "Shall we give them something to talk about?"

She nodded eagerly. "Absolutely."

As Goku and Vegeta finished their match, Y/N approached them, holding Daishinkan's hand. "You guys were amazing out there! But you know, Daishinkan and I have been practicing some moves of our own."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Care to show us?"

Daishinkan smiled serenely. "Perhaps another time. For now, we simply wish to enjoy the spectacle."

Goku, ever the enthusiastic one, clapped his hands. "I can't wait to see that! You two must have some incredible techniques."

As they were leaving, Daishinkan turned to you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I believe our little ruse is working quite well."

Y/N laughed, squeezing his hand. "I think so too. And who knows? Maybe we're actually teaching them something about having a bit of fun."

In the end, it wasn't about fooling anyone. It was about the fun of the shared laughter and the unique bond that had formed between them. And who knew? Maybe, just maybe, there was a bit of truth hidden in the jest, a genuine connection that went beyond the playful facade.

As Y/N and Daishinkan shared a knowing smile, she couldn't help but think that, in the grand scheme of things, this was the kind of chaos the universe needed—a reminder that even in the presence of gods, there was always room for a little bit of mischief and a whole lot of fun.

Masterpost

DBS Masterlist

[chase-prairie]

I'm guessing that as a graduate student you have read a zillion and one documents and books and papers and things in your field. Would it be outrageous to ask for recommendations/your favorites? I'm really interested in learning more about the history of Native land use and food systems in the midwest (which I suppose is a very long history, I'd be happy learning about any time period), prairie ecology, and the current outlook for native plants and pollinators (and conservation recommendations). Even one recc for each would be amazing. Feel free to postpone this ask if you're too busy! P.S. can't wait to read your dissertation.

This is a big ask, and I get a lot of these types of asks! In the future it'd be nice if people were more specific about their interests and not asking about general, huge topics. There's a level that you can and should be googling yourself! Many academic papers are online for free through sites like academia.edu and I'm not a search engine!

General answer if you're interested in this range of topics is Robin Wall Kimmerer's Braiding Sweetgrass. She comes from the midwest and writes some on prairie and the book is all about Indigenous science stewardship.

Otherwise, the topics you're asking for don't have one single source that will tell you everything you're looking for. People make small studies of one community, one ecosystem, one plant. Whether it's ecology or ethnobotany, there's no one making compendiums of info, especially not in the midwest. That's why I do the work I do, but even what I do is imperfect. Be suspicious of anyone who/any text that claims to be comprehensive on a huge, complex subjects; they probably are bsing you.

Indigenous Land Mgmt:

Two good recent papers:

The subject of indigenous wild management is more intensely covered in California (M. Kat Anderson) and Vancouver (Nancy J. Turner). Those two authors are great for both nuts and bolts chat and philosophical perspectives about how people have lived in and altered and restored their ecosystems.

A compelling academic book on the subject is Roots of Our Renewal: Ethnobotany and Cherokee Environmental Governance by Clint Carroll, which is just as much about philosophy, knowledge production and protection and community building, as plants.

Prairie Conservation Practices:

Like I said above, currently published stuff is about very specific interactions and focuses, like a particular pollinator group in a particular plant. What you're looking for, a generalist summary of the field, doesn't really exist.

If you're looking for plant lists and how-tos Tallgrass Restoration Handbook or the Tallgrass Prairie Center Guide. Do not go for Ben Voigt. If you're looking for a general conceptual entry to Midwest conservation/restoration, there's Ecological Restoration in the Midwest

If you're looking for general recommendations for free, Xerces.org is the resource for bee-friendly landscaping and planting.

If you live near a University or Arboretum or Botanic Garden, this is the kind of thing where you should just browse the shelves near the books I've recommended! Chances are you have free access to the libraries, if not the ability to check the books out yourself!

[fatehbaz]

hello! While we're on the topic of Chicago, do you know about Leonard Dubkin? His writing can be hard to find because it is out of print, but he wrote nature columns about approaching the bugs and weeds accessible in city life the same way you would traditional naturalist landscapes and! It is sometimes neat! Especially for the time period before the turn toward huge public parks projects

Yes, actually, I've heard of Dubkin in two different settings: University course discussions of the history of environmental studies and geographic thought. And also in discussion of Great Lakes "bioregionalism".

Kinda some entangled stuff here that you've brought to mind for me, having to do with how Chicago relates to environmental thinking. Chicago as site of contemporary urban naturalism and community gardening. Chicago as site of "Midwestern gothic". Great Lakes and Great Plains as sites of Indigenous pedagogies. Chicago as site of Progressive era reformism. Chicago as site of influential (imperialist) geographic thinking.

---

(1) You've reminded me of "Muskrat theories, tobacco in the streets, and living Chicago as Indigenous Land" (Bang, Curley, Kessel, Marin, Suzukovich, and Strack, Environmental Education Research, 2014). They discuss: "Chicago is a wetland that becomes part prairie and part oak savannah. It's hard to see with the layers of colonial fill, but actually it's hiding in plain sight [...]. [There is] recognition of how the filling of wetlands factored greatly into the [...] establishing of Chicago as a national transportation hub and why some forest reserves or parks [...] were [situated as they are now] [...]. As teachers [the authors are educators], we began to track and weave into our thinking [...] the waves of ecological restructuring that has occurred in Chicago; from the filling of wetlands, to the rengineering of the direction of the Chicago river, the mass destruction of prairie lands [...]."

---

(2) It's been my impression that, in the past 15-ish or so years, a lot of writing about "urban/community gardening" and the reclamation of space has been coming out of Detroit, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Chicago, etc. Reclaiming of apparently-decrepit urban space after abandonment by institutions, "making a home" even in the face of ruination, etc. Post-industrial decay and the (condescending?) stereotyping of the Rust Belt, and Detroit especially. Much of these efforts led with deliberate intent and passion foremost by Black gardeners. (Milwaukee has some of the most extreme Black-white residential segregation of any major US city. Treatment of Black communities and use of redlining is notorious in Minneapolis, Detroit/Flint, St. Louis, etc.)

---

(3) I think this decay/abandonment theme might dovetail with what seems (anecdotally to me, at least) to be a sort of popular ascendancy of a regional gothic or Midwest gothic kinda thing among wider audiences even outside of the region. Corn fields at edge of town, chainlink fences and crooked oak branches, shuttered Rust Belt factory, Night in the Woods aesthetic-y stuff, Over the Garden Wall-adjacent stuff, etc. Like the celebration of a perpetual Halloween. Really plays on the landscapes, haunted history, attempted concealment of violence, and institutional abandonment of the Great Lakes region. And then there is the advent of more Great Lakes/Rust Belt bioregional identity stuff, which Belt Magazine has been writing about for years now. I'm thinking also of some recently published stuff like "Deep Map Country: Proposing a Dinnseanchas Cycle of the Northern Plains" and Grasslands Grown: Creating Place on the U.S. Northern Plains and Canadian Prairies. As wells as some non-academic general-audience titles (like Rust Belt Arcana: Tarot and Natural History in the Exurban Wilds, etc.).

---

(4) I do also wonder if the apparent rise in popularity recently of Robin Wall Kimmerer's work has contributed to a rise in "ecological citizenship" dialogue and Great Lakes/Great Plains bioregional thinking. But I think it would behoove us to note that Kimmerer is not the only Indigenous thinker discussing ecological citizenship in this region.

I'm thinking of Grace Dillon's writing on Indigenous sciences, Indigenous futurisms, storytelling/narrative, dealing with ecological cataclysm, more-than-human agency, etc (big institutions are "still thinking about knowledge as mere accumulation"). Just as Kimmerer talks about "plant beings", Dillon also talks about "multispecies entanglements" and agency.

Also thinking of Kyle Whyte (Potawatomi, from this region), who's written for years about Indigenous science fiction and Indigenous pedagogies of knowledge, especially situated in the Great Lakes.

Also Leanne Betasamosake Simpson's writing (Mississauga Nishnaabeg, from this region) on Indigenous resurgence and creating constellations of co-resistance. Both Whyte and Simspon write about persistence in the aftermath of apocalypse, which I think works well when considered in relation to Black community gardens and the wider Great Lakes/Rust Belt discourses of building lives in the aftermath of post-industrial decay/abandonment.

Also scholar Zoe Todd as well (Red River Metis, from the northern Plains). Aside from famously criticizing academia's superficial and fashionable appropriation of these Indigenous pedagogies and concepts, Todd also has written a lot about more-than-human agency (especially fish!), ecological citizenship, and a sort of place-based identity (especially in the northern Great Plains).

Considering the appropriation of Indigenous knowledge also brings to mind Katherine McKittrick's writing on "Black methodologies" and pedagogies/knowledge production (universities undermine and appropriate Black knowledge; Black knowledge is "interdisciplinary"; prioritizing multiple ways of knowing; "wonder is study" and "curiosity is attentive") and Fred Moten's writing on the fugitive relationship to academia. Also brings to mind Glissant's writing on opacity.

---

(5) Regarding Chicago as a center of (white) conceptions of environmental space and geographic thought: You mention Dubkin's writing on a sort of urban naturalism in Chicago. And I know that Madison (Wisconsin) and its university have a similar reputation as being an early center of environmental studies among white/national institutions. Meanwhile, seems Chicago might've acted at times as a focal point of this "progressive" modernity kinda thing that celebrates reforms and "innovations" in industrial livability or whatever (much of which still depended on and/or endorsed colonization, extraction, labor abuse, imposed standards of "productivity", etc.). Thinking of Progressive era through New Deal (1890s-1940s, as Chicago had achieved a pinnacle of wealth after establishment of railroads and then industrialization, electricity, monoculture crops, Rust Belt processing/manufacturing, etc.). For example, I recently posted about the work of Oenone Kubie, who studied "urban discipline" and the white anxiety and racial segregation driving children's reformatories in Chicago during the Progressive era. (Kubie argues that eformers were concerned with poverty, truancy, and "delinquency" in tandem with Black migration, which led to "interventions". Chicago hosted the "first municipal playground system" and by 1915 "the city of Chicago ran sixty-six recreation centres. [...] From Chicago, the idea spread around the country. By 1921, almost 200 cities employed a total of over eleven thousand men and women as year-round playground workers.") The case that Martinez was making in the essay we've been discussing (about Chicago's influential role 1880-1910 as a center of policing, surveillance, and the conceptualizing of US imperial frontiers in the Philippines, influenced by Chicago's fear of Black migration) relates to how Chicago has been considered a center of the refining of geographic thought in late nineteenth century, as white Americans crafted ideas of national space (westward expansion into the frontier radiating out from Chicago along railroads; Chicago being hub of industrial agriculture of the prairies/plains as an economic frontier). Kinda brings to mind how scholar Mashid Mayar has recently written about "the cartographic pedagogies of empire" and the teaching of geography to children in the United States in the 1890s ("home geography" school classes, "dissected map" puzzle games, children's magazines that attach "adventure" to ideas of botanical/ethnographic expeditions), giving white children an idea of the planet as an extension of their nation/home at the same time that the US was understanding itself as an empire with dominion in Cuba, Central America, Hawai'i/South Pacific, Philippines, etc.

---

For anyone interested in environmental crisis and multispecies ecologies in prairies, Great Plains, "Midwest", Great Lakes, you might like Grace Dillon, Zoe Todd, Kyle Whyte, and Leanne Betasamosake Simpson.

Lots to consider. Sorry for excessive length here. Thank you for saying hi.

[emilybeemartin]

Inktober Days 25-27

Day 25: Dangerous

I don’t like this prompt. Every national park can be dangerous, and the deadliest places in parks, hands-down, are the roads, where drivers are distracted by wildlife and scenery. But if we’re going with pure statistics, excluding automobile accidents, then the most dangerous park, according to Backpacker Magazine, is Denali. The main cause of death is exposure, followed by falls. Despite what many folks might assume, there has only been one fatality caused by a bear in the park’s entire hundred-year-plus history.

National parks, overall, are pretty safe places. Park rangers work hard to keep them that way, trying to balance the wilderness experience with the health and safety of the visiting public. We implore folks to follow common safety measures in the backcountry and along the roadways, and there’s a whole facet of rangering called “PSAR”—preventative search and rescue. These folks are usually stationed at popular trailheads, checking that people have the proper gear, water, and footwear to successfully complete the hike. PSARs are your friends! Listen to the PSARs!

Day 26: Remove

When seasonals sit down for ranger training at the beginning of the summer, there’s one topic that we know we’re going to hear about, no matter which unit in the system we’re in. Invasive species. From lionfish to kudzu to emerald ash borers to toadflax, every park has its problem species that are taking over native ecosystems. Removal is a tricky, labor-intensive process—if they can be removed at all.

The Everglades are a prime spot for invasive species—they’re considered one of the most severely-infested parks in the system in terms of nonnative plants. The subtropical environment, combined with the famous issues of humans releasing exotic pets into the wild and planting exotic gardens, mean that some of these species can multiply rapidly with no natural checks and balances. Rangers work hard to keep invasives from destroying habitat needed by native plants and animals, but the truth is, in many cases the damage is done, and exotics are simply here to stay.

Day 27: Beast

How fortunate are we to share a continent with bison? Is there any animal more iconic of rolling American wilderness, or more representative of the sins and triumphs of our history? The bison is our national mammal, and the symbol on our ranger patch to represent the wildlife protected by the National Park Service.

Working in parks with bison, like Theodore Roosevelt, always creates an extra layer of excitement to the job. I’ve been late to work because of bison jams along roadways and had to physically move programs because bison were hanging out in the amphitheater. I once couldn’t take my trash out because a bison had bedded down just steps from my door. As a ranger, it’s easy to start thinking of bison as giant, bullheaded nuisances, but then you lock eyes with one outside your car window, and you remember—oh, this beast is the heartbeat of this landscape, my elder and my companion, and I’m dead privileged to wear her image on my chest.

------------

There's still a few more days left to preorder Thirty-One Days of National Parks: The Artbook!

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 17

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3.2K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Time marched slowly forward as the leaves transitioned from their lush greens to the vibrant oranges and reds of September, eventually cascading to the ground in early October. During this period, you and Kai navigated the intricacies of your blossoming relationship. Your visits to the village became more frequent, turning day trips into extended stays where you would help his mother tend to her garden or bake, and assist with various repairs around the village. Nights were often spent at Kai’s cottage, where you would indulge in simple meals, trade stories, and share laughter over spirits and wines obtained from his trades with the lumber crew. The joy and laughter you experienced with Kai were unlike anything you had felt in a long time. 

Kai had a unique way of seeing the world, viewing it through a lens of wonder rather than fear. Every creek was an invitation to explore, every field beckoned to lie beneath the sun, and every moment demanded to be cherished. You often caught him sneaking glances at you across the gardens, flashing a coy smile, to which you would respond by sticking your tongue out. Even his father, usually stoic, couldn't help but smile beneath his beard at his son's antics, especially when Kai followed you on woodland hikes or dove into waterfalls with you.

Despite the ever-present murmur of your mate in the back of your mind, you found it easier and easier to calm it, to let it rest untouched. Kai insisted on keeping physical intimacy to a minimum, stopping wandering hands and lustful moans with a gentle touch or a soft pull away. You would growl in frustration, hungry for more, but he always shook his head, his eyes tracing your lips and the lines of your face before kissing you again. He claimed he wanted to let you heal, to learn how you wanted to be held and touched before progressing further. Though you would roll your eyes and huff, you never fought him on it. Each day, it felt as if the wound that once lay open and bleeding was slowly scabbing over.

You decided to keep your relationship with Kai within the village, reserving the cabin in the woods as a sanctuary for yourself. While you trusted Kai, you couldn't help but prepare for the possibility that the Mother might have other plans, and you didn’t know if you could survive having that place tainted with hurt. Kai never questioned your decision, always kissing you softly on the forehead before you ventured back into the wilderness, promising to return soon.

The shadows that once flitted and flickered in odd ways seemed less frequent, appearing only when you were back at the cabin. You attributed this to the changing leaves and the wind, finding comfort in the thought that the world was simply shifting with the seasons, just as you were.

________________________________________________________

“My father and I are making a trip to the city next week,” Kai said, breaking the peaceful silence the two of you had fallen into. You paused, looking up from where you steeped the tea in the kettle on the stove, gazing out into the deep December dredges of blues and purples.

“Fun,” you replied, continuing to bounce the bag within the liquid, which slowly curled with brown swirls.

“I wanted to know if you wanted to join us.”

You sucked your teeth slightly. “Um,” you started, “I don’t know.”

Kai stood from the floor, where he had been idly sharpening one of his saws. “I just thought it might be fun.” He came up behind you, wrapping his long arms around your waist, his face nuzzling into your neck and brushing away your hair with his nose. “Get out for a bit, see something new.”

You smiled, your eyes closing slightly as you leaned your head back. “I don’t know,” you whispered.

“What are you worried about?” he asked, pressing a kiss into your neck.

You shook your head lightly, breathing a sigh. “Nothing, I guess.”

“Then come with us,” he pleaded. “A few days' travel up and back and two days in the city.”

You turned your head to look at him as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “I don’t know if I can manage a week of uninterrupted time with you. I might kill you,” you joked.

“Then I would die happy,” he smiled.

You packed enough clothes to get you through the week, closing down the cabin in the woods for possible snow. While the mountains around you had done a fantastic job breaking up the clouds, a few flurries still managed to make their way down and blanket the floor of the forest in a light frosting. Kai had remarked that it had been a surprisingly light winter so far, and you only prayed it would remain that way.

You brought Clover to the village, securing him in a pen with other mules. He groaned at you as you unbridled him.

“What?” you asked him.

He threw his long snout over his shoulder to look at you, seemingly annoyed with the entire situation. “It’s a week. And you’ll be with friends,” you said, patting his rear lightly.

Clover grumbled in response and sent a huff out through his nose, the condensation swirling in the chill of the morning.

“Did you want your own private suite?” you mockingly asked as you tried to scoot behind him. Clover stood in the covered barn, staring out as other donkeys and horses munched on hay in the middle of the field. “Go,” you bayed him, “be social.”

As you made your way to the gate, he looked at you from the side of his eyes with an incredulous gaze. Apparently, his private life among the forest had spoiled him. You called out, “I’ll see you in a week, you grumpy ass.”

You walked down the slick street of the cottages towards Kai’s place, where you found him just closing the door of the cottage. A warm wool scarf was tied around his neck, covering his mouth slightly. His jacket, worn from years in the snow, had various patches on it and one pocket with a sizeable hole, but the red that shone on his cheeks in the cold sent a smile running through your body.

He turned to look at you and slung his bag up over his back. “Ready?” he asked.

You nodded, and he bounded down the stairs, his legs nearly flying out from under him as he slipped on some ice, but he caught himself with a jolt against the railing. After regaining his composure, he stood and you stifled a giggle that rose from your stomach.

The two of you met his father down by their barn as he was throwing another saddle over the back of one of the lumber horses. These were giant beasts with long flowing manes, their fur longer than the average horse and built as though there was nothing in their body but muscle. The horses let out light chuffs as they idly shifted from hoof to hoof, eager to move their legs that had grown cold in the breeze of early winter.

Kai helped his father attach the pull cart to the back of the largest horse, whose chestnut brown fur was caked with dirt. His father threw a tarp over the load and then promptly went back to the house, claiming he had left something behind.

Kai ran his hands through the mane of his own mare, whom he had named Ingrid, as you slowly brushed your gloved hands down the snout of Lila, the horse you were to trek with.

“She’s a good girl,” Kai called over to you. “Strong and reliable.”

“Maybe I should have told you that I’ve never ridden a horse before we got this far,” you said nervously.

Kai’s eyes widened. “Never?” You shook your head in response. “Well, I guess I’m glad you’re telling me now.” He walked over to you, his boots crunching down the frost of the barn floor. He explained how to get onto the horse, and more importantly, how to get off without falling, and went over basic commands which Lila followed without much hesitation. “She knows the way,” Kai told you. “She’ll keep you safe.”

Kai grabbed the small stool from the side of the barn and placed it next to Lila. You hoisted one leg over the top of her, your thigh barely able to lift over her height, but with a slightly ungraceful boost from Kai, you were able to settle in. Lila shifted onto her back hooves as you gripped the reins.

Kai tightened the saddle slightly and peered up at you. “You look nice from this angle,” he joked.

You threw him a vulgar gesture as he went to mount his own horse, easily throwing his weight up and over as his father returned, a pack of steaming rolls wrapped in a linen towel, flushing savory smells of warm meats and cheese into your nose. His father gave one to each of you, which you scarfed down greedily while trying to keep one hand steady on Lila. Within five minutes, the three of you were off, just as the sun peeked over the mountain.

You rode for hours through the woods, joking and laughing with Kai, while his father rode ahead, seemingly content in his silence.

Lila trudged forward, very aware of the path and needing little guidance from you, which you were grateful for. Instead of having to focus on her, you cast long glances into the deeper woods where the quiet of winter was settling in. Birds that overwinter chirped above and squirrels sent cascades of snow down from the branches, sometimes landing on your head or down the back of Kai’s shirt, which sent him shivering and gripping for his collar. You stopped only for a quick lunch, becoming increasingly aware that you would have to relieve yourself at some point. However, the idea of going to the bathroom in the woods with two males nearby overwhelmed your need to pee. You also found your thighs sore and your gait slightly wider as you adjusted to the width of Lila.

You made the trip in just under three days, a much shorter ride than the walk that originally brought you to the cabin. As you passed the clearing that you remembered from your initial journey out, you felt your heart catch in your throat as you peered down at the city. The evening light was just settling in off the Sidra as the rooftops, lined with light snow, began to glisten in the pinks of the setting sun.

You made it to the gates just before dark, with Kai’s father showing the documented paperwork that allowed him to sell in the Starfall Festival Market. The guard allowed you all in, and you left the horses near the outer stables, their weary bodies aching from the cold as much as your own. Kai’s father unhooked the cart, storing it in the adjoining pen before the three of you turned to walk into the city, which was still bustling with life. As darkness descended, the fae lights rose in the night.

You took in the sights and sounds of a Velaris winter. The sour aromas of cranberry cider wafted through the air, followed by the savory scents of meat pies and spices. Kai’s father opted to turn in early for the night after checking into the inn where you would be staying. Kai insisted that the two of you head into the city to enjoy the night, and you begrudgingly agreed.

Kai took your hand in his, his fingertips chilled and icy as he led you through the streets. The cobblestones had been cleared of all snow, and you wondered if it had anything to do with magic or if the city cleaners had just swept day in and day out during winter. Kai’s eyes shone bright in the fae light as he marveled at all the sights. Garland was strung between lampposts and houses, red berries nestled within the needles, and wreaths hung on nearly every door. You tried to push down a growing sadness as you held back the memories of your starfalls with your mother.

Kai barely seemed to notice your quiet demeanor as he continued through the streets, dragging you along. Music played from every corner, and Kai stopped at each band for a moment to listen before smiling widely at you. As the two of you passed a pastry shop, he pressed his nose to the glass, admiring the various pastries with fillings spilling over their edges, their buttery toppings glistening under the lights. The whole city seemed unreal, its beauty outshining even the brightest stars, and everyone was out in the streets, shopping for last-minute gifts.

As the crowds grew denser the further into the city you walked, Kai’s grip became tighter as you weaved through the bodies toward the city center, where the market would be

As the crowds grew denser the further into the city you walked, Kai’s grip tightened as you weaved your way through the bustling throngs toward the city center, where the market would be taking place the following night. Vendors were already surveying their booths, setting up colorful displays of goods and wares. Kai wandered between the stalls, stopping to chat with familiar faces while you stood next to him, smiling politely and taking in the lively atmosphere.

When he finally found his father’s booth, where they would be selling woodcarvings from the village lumbermen, Kai was reluctantly convinced to return to the warmth of the inn. 

As the two of you wound your way through the streets, opting this time to take the quieter sidestreets, you watched as Kai continued to marvel at the sights, his eyes lighting up at every possible occasion. The narrow alleys were adorned with twinkling fairy lights and garlands, creating a magical glow that reflected off the cobblestones. The sounds of distant laughter and music filled the air, mingling with the scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced wine.

You both walked in comfortable silence, the cold air nipping at your cheeks and the festive decorations casting a warm glow over the city. Kai’s childlike wonder was infectious, and you found yourself smiling more genuinely as you shared in his excitement. Every so often, he would point out something of interest—a particularly ornate wreath, a musician playing a beautiful melody, or a baker’s stall with intricately decorated pastries.

Kai purchased warm wine for both of you, and you stood against the wall of the Sidra, holding the cup to your nose and savoring the rich aroma. The warm liquid lined your throat, sending a comfortable burn through your body. Its full body and intense flavor made you curl your lips, sucking every last drop as you took in the people wandering before you.

“I’m really happy you came with me,” Kai noted. You turned to look at him through your lashes, now flecked with snowflakes.

You smiled at him. “I’m happy I came too.”

“I know this is probably hard, or it was. But I think that you coming back here is a good thing.”

You nodded, taking another sip of your wine and silently wishing the conversation would be over. You didn’t want your own sad memories and yearning to ruin a good night for the two of you. Just as Kai was about to say something else, you heard a voice yelling his name over the crowd. Kai perked up slightly, trying to peer over the sea of people. When his name was shouted again, Kai began waving, his lanky arm sailing through the flurry of snow as he shouted back, “Sylvan!”

You watched as a male, near the same age as you and Kai, bounded through the crowd, nearly toppling a female carrying three boxes stacked high. He apologized profusely as he continued toward you. The male had pale peach skin, a mess of ginger curls, and a face splattered with freckles. His clothes were much more suited for city life than either yours or Kai’s.

As he approached, Kai reached out in an open-armed hug to embrace the stranger.

“I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow!” the ginger-haired fae, giddy with enthusiasm, nearly shook Kai in his arms.

“We beat the storm out. Got in this evening!” Kai replied, pulling back and slapping the other male on the back.

“Where’s your dad?”

“Old bastard couldn’t be bothered to come out for a good time.” Kai flashed a smile over his shoulder before turning to you. “Sylvan, this is Y/N. Y/N, Sylvan.”

You reached your hand out to shake Sylvan’s, and he gave you an exaggerated bow, pressing a kiss to your hand as he crooned in feigned regality, “M’lady.”

Kai rolled his eyes and smacked Sylvan on the back of his head, causing him to yelp in pain and rub the spot. “What was that for?” he asked, checking his hand for any damage.

“For being an idiot and embarrassing yourself,” Kai scolded.

Sylvan looked up at you with a rather mocking tone. “I’m sorry for being a fool.”

You giggled slightly. “It’s alright,” you responded.

Kai shot Sylvan a stern look. “Don’t encourage him.”

Sylvan allowed a coy smile to spread across his face as he looked at you and then turned back to Kai. “So what have you been up to? Since apparently it isn’t coming to find me.”

“We’ve been wandering, looking at stalls, buying wine.”

Sylvan turned to look at you and then back to Kai. “She’s with you?”

Taking the opportunity to insert yourself into the conversation, you confidently replied, “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Did he catch you against your will and force you to spend time with him?” Sylvan asked, turning to you.

“His father pays me by the hour,” you smirked, and Kai simply shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.

Sylvan nudged his elbow into your side. “Well, if we go by the hour, just let me know the address to send money to.”

Kai’s face dropped. “Alright, that’s enough.”

You smirked at both of them, your eyes meeting Kai’s, who sent you a silent apology. You merely shook your head.

“So?” Sylvan started, “Drinks? Food?”

“I think we’re—” Kai began, but you interrupted.

“You know what, Kai? I think I’m getting pretty tired, so I might turn in for the night.” You smiled at him.

“I can walk you back,” he offered, taking a step towards you, but you raised your hand, shaking your head.

“No, no, that’s okay! You go spend some time with your friend. I’ll see you later.”

Kai looked between you and Sylvan, who seemed to be nodding along with your plan, mischievously grinning.

With a sigh, Kai said, “Alright,” and Sylvan nearly jumped up and down with excitement.

You gripped Kai’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before releasing it and turning to walk back towards the inn. You called over your shoulder, “Take care of him, Sylvan. Don’t let him get into trouble.” Sylvan may have responded, though you didn’t hear him as you made your way through the bustling streets.

Here we go... @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006

[between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place]

A small November fill for Build a Bucky Bingo 2023 @buckybarnesevents and the prompt AU: Regency.

Ficlet under the cut!

Rating: G Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanoff no warnings (apart from wild liberties taken in regards to historical accuracy)

“I regret not having paid witness to such a memorable occasion. It shall surely be the talk of the town for at least a full day.” Rogers dipped his brush into the pan and added swift strokes of brown to the untamed landscape emerging on his canvas; he was in his shirtsleeves, his easel set up next to the always blazing fireplace. He paused, scrutinizing his marks. “And are you certain there is none among the ladies who has caught your eye?”

James bristled. “As I have told both you and my mother repeatedly, I am not looking to marry this season.”

He rose from the ottoman he’d flung himself down onto in a fit of boredom, to wander around the stuffy drawing room. Rain poured down outside, grey curtains obscuring the gardens; James was itching to get his hands on the reins or his boots on the ground. He turned his back to the windows.

His friend had not been taken aback by his sudden temper. He rested the end of the paintbrush on the pointy tip of his chin, considering James with the attentiveness he usually devoted to his paintings. There was a smudge of blue on the angled point of his jaw; he would forget to clean it off and be scolded for it at dinner.

“What about Miss Romanova?”

“Natalia?” James balked. “Have you lost your senses?”

Rogers regarded him with a crooked smile. “I was referring to the younger Miss Romanova.”

James opened his mouth and closed it again. He could hear his mother’s voice echoing the same question. Yelena Romanova was a pretty girl, from a respected family—and to his knowledge did not hold the same stance on marriage as her older sister. She was also known to be an accomplished painter. Her eyes did have nearly the same blue colour as—

He banished the thought from his head.

“No,” he said, declaring the topic of conversation over.

His friend did not heed the cue. “Then what about Miss Maximoff? I recall seeing you dance with her on more than one occasion, if I am not mistaken.”

James only grunted in response. He did not care to divulge that the main reason for his dancing with Miss Maximoff so often was that it provided his sister ample opportunity to converse with the brother, Mr Pietro Maximoff. Rogers did not need to know the extent to which his little sister had him wrapped around her finger.

He came to stand next to the easel to observe the half-finished painting, which did not seem half-anything in his eyes; the desolate northern hills were captured in such detail that James would have sworn he could feel the howling wind pulling the breath from his lungs.

“And you?” he asked, rather abruptly.

“What of me?” Steven looked up at him.

James waved his hand in the air. “Is there no lady who has charmed you with her intelligence, lively wit and …. extensive knowledge of art and poetry?”

His friend laughed. “I do not suppose any lady possessing all of those qualities would bestow her charms on one such as myself.”

James made a face his mother would have scolded him for had she been there to witness it. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about yourself that way.”

Steven offered him a rather pitying smile. “I am only stating the truth, as you well know. A man’s fortune can make up for much of his shortcomings in matters of looks or manners. As I am neither in possession of good looks nor a fortune—”

“Stop, please.” James grasped ahold of his arm and spoke with a rush of some strange emotion, “Not every match is made for money.”

He came to his senses a moment later, to discover they were all but standing chest to chest; the brush still held in Steven’s hand was threatening to stain his waistcoat. James let go of his wrist and backed away, face hot from the proximity of the fire.

“No,” his friend said slowly, eyeing him with a curious expression, “I suppose some are foolish enough to make them for love.”

&

“You are making my head spin,” Natalia drawled from where she was lounging on the chaise in that particular manner of hers, much like a cat ready to pounce. “Will you quit that and tell me what is the matter, or do you prefer to thread holes in our carpets?”

James stopped his pacing and spun around.

“I—” He paused and stared up at the ceiling. “How do you tell someone that you cannot fathom spending the rest of your life in anyone’s company but theirs?” he asked, rather more desperately than he’d wished.

Natalia dropped her book and pretense. “Bad poetry is a favoured choice.” Her eyes gleamed with a bright hunger. “Who is she?”

James shook his head and turned his back on her; he clenched his fists by his side. “You must forget I said anything.”

He walked over to the French windows. It was raining again, as it had been all those weeks ago. A servant scurried along the path from the stables with a basket in her arms. James stared out over the rain-damp grounds; they felt less real to him than a painting.

A slim hand grasped his elbow. “How can I help?” Natalia had never cared much for propriety when it did not benefit her—and anyone who dared to suggest anything about her character was sure to find their own reputation more affected.

“You cannot. Please,” James begged, “leave it be.”

“You do not have to tell me,” she said in a soft voice. “But I do not like to see my friend this way and I believe I know what is ailing him.”

It should not have come as a surprise that his thoughts and desires were so transparent to her. James banished the stab of fear and laid his hand on top of hers. “Then you know there is no cure,” he confessed.

“But friendship may be a balm. And if one’s friend would happen to find themselves in a similar position …”

James tried not to betray his astonishment; he had heard whispers but always disregarded them as evil, envious rumors. A small, wild thing fluttered in his chest as he turned to face her. “What are you proposing?”

She looked up at him with a matching fervour in her gaze. “Would you not say most offers of marriage are made on the grounds of a mutual advantage?”

James could scarcely breath and was not certain he’d understood her. “What would be the advantage of such a marriage?”

Natalia smiled at him and there was a deep sadness to it.

“Freedom, Mr Barnes.”