#blue colour pottery

[eyenaku]

bISQUE FIRED OH MY GIDSYWHH HOTTJEBWE UHH WNJW

[sisaloofafump]

Reimagined Trinity

a WIP that I’ve technically been working on for over a year but never finished and so I’m just posting now bc why not. Design thoughts below:

BATMAN

lighter on the bottom darker on the top like how fish blend in with the sea floor/sky differently depending on whether you’re above or below them

shorts mimic urban landscape

simple bat symbol. Kinda constellation like

big stomping boots bc he deserves it and also needs good grip

SUPERMAN

yellow/orange inside of cape mimic sun :) (this is a design feature that I think should be used wayyy more often)

break up the full blue with soft alien designs. Not armoured plating

ridges on his sleeves so people can hold on easier

sleek boots bc his only job is to fly and look pretty

princely looking collar

El crest is his golden age design but with different colours

WONDER WOMAN

this is just a design I’ve drawn a lot

clay pottery bodice that can glow

protective underlayer

bandages for aesthetic & purpose. Supposed to evoke Greek sandals

barefoot bc obviously

clay-textured skin because the way that Alex Ross draws her breaking apart in Justice is imprinted on my mind

sword hilt is the Wonder Woman symbol!

hair is free enough to have motion and stuff but constrained enough (especially on sword side) that it won’t get as caught in things or get in the way

[mediumgayitalian]

“I made this for you.”

Nico stares, blankly, and the freckly hand extended out to him. Twisted around the long, calloused fingers, snagging on a black-lacquered chipped nail, is a bracelet.

Hesitantly, Nico takes it.

It’s woven in some way. He doesn’t recognize the exact pattern; Annabeth probably would. Not a braid, certainly, not any particular shape he can recognise. It’s bi-coloured, a twist of black and yellow, strings wrapped around them in an aborted spiral, almost. There’s a snag a third way into the bracelet, a tiny little error betraying its homemade status.

Under the guise of still inspecting the bracelet, Nico peers through his eyelashes. Will’s attention has long since shifted to somewhere to the left of him, rocking back on his heels, teeth gnawing into his lips as he hums. No longer extended out between them, waiting for Nico’s next move, his hands pick at the colour on his nails, picking off the polish chip by chip.

Dozens of similar bracelets stack his wrists, his ankles; rainbow of colours clashing horribly with the mint green of the cheap plastic shoes.

“What…” He pauses, clearing his throat. He feels Will’s attention on him, the warming rays of his soft smile. Surely this can’t be…

“It’s a friendship bracelet! We were makin’ pottery in Arts ‘n Crafts; I got distracted and the whole thing went squelch.” He blows a raspberry, smacking his fist into his hand. Nico jumps. “Totally collapsed! Anyways. Made a friendship bracelet for all my friends, yellow for me, black for you. I got a matching one!” He holds up his his wrist. It takes Nico a second of squinting to find the matching one — yellow and black, twisted, just like the one he’s wearing, nestled against the others like he’s been wearing it for years.

I made one for all my friends.

“You, uh.” His palms sweat. He tucks them behind his back before Will notices, although the twinkle in his eye tells him he might have an idea. “You’ve done this before.”

It’s not much of a question. Will takes it as one anyway.

“Mhm. You don’t have to wear it, if you don’t want to, I can take it —”

Nico wrenches himself away. Will blinks.

“Absolutely not,” he says, before he realizes what’s coming out of his mouth. “You made it for me. It’s mine.” In a flurry of movement, he tugs the bracelet over his hand, twisting the loosely hanging part around his thumb.

Slowly, giving him time to pull away, a freckly hand comes back into his space. When Nico — frozen — doesn’t flinch away, they rest on the jut of his wrist, the scar on the palm of his hand.

“I got it,” he murmurs. Nico glances up to find Will already looking at him, blue eyes wide and imploring and soft.

Nico has never associated blue eyes with softness. Intensity, maybe. Clarity. Softness, to him, has long been the understanding brown of Reyna’s, the softly glowing embers of Lady Hestia’s. The golden glow of Hazel’s, especially, ever-smiling. (The gentle, endless, sun-warmed clay brown of Bianca’s. Too big for her face, hidden behind her bangs; except, of course, when Nico was overwhelmed and miserable and needed her, needed her, needed her. Or when the lawyer came to their room door, steel-faced, giving the same news, and Nico would slide a small hand in hers, squeezing.)

Will’s eyes are soft, though, he realizes. Like cotton candy at DC fairs, like grape hyacinth, like the blanket he toted around as a baby. Like a sunny smile and golden hair and teasing winks when everything is too too much.

“There.”

With a gentle tug, the loose strings of the friendship bracelet tightly pull the bracelet snug against his wrist. Looser, barely even touching, Will’s fingers follow the contours of the bracelet. He lingers. Nico wonders if he can feel his pulse, pounding, endless.

“Thank you,” he manages, finally. His throat is dry. “For.”

The rest of his sentence won’t come out. Before he can panic, Will smiles; beams, really, eyes crinkling shut, and the short breaths clattering his lungs fizzle out entirely.

“Oh,” he says, several things slotting together at once. “Oh.”

“Anytime,” Will responds grinning, squeezing Nico’s wrist once more before bouncing off. “See you around!”

He’s far gone before Nico finds his voice again. But he smiles, still, eyeing the pretty bracelet, and whispers, “You, too.”

[claypigeonpottery]

guess what I did today?

the celestial peryton vase! that blue will be very dark and the aurora should show up brightly 🤞🏼

after carving the perytons, I covered the piece in wax, then carved the aurora through the wax. I painted underglaze over the aurora to give it some bright green, and when I wiped the excess colour away. the wax protected everything underneath. that pottery technique is called mishima

kinda wish I’d recorded it as an actual video and not just a timelapse, it goes just a little too fast imo

[jbbartram-illu]

Hello! That blue woodsman from you last shop update is gorgeous! How did you get such a rich blue?

So this is a mildly fraught question because that Woodsman is made from a black clay (aka a clay body heavily pigmented with iron oxide), which can react SUPER weirdly to glazes. What I'm saying is that it's been an Adventure figuring out what glazes to use on this clay & I've definitely had some disappointing results...

...but THIS GUY?? Not one of them!

The glaze I used is called Blue Cornflower by Coyote from their Enduro-Colour line & it totally sings on the black clay. Here's another sculpture I used it on (a very fun commission for a Manta Ray rolling tray, a.k.a. the Manta Tray):

Dreamy, eh?!

I'm also super jazzed because a bunch of my new Spectrum glazes look rad on the black clay -- here are a few of my favs:

And finally (how do these get so long? It's certainly not my fault!), one of my fav unexpected successes is putting Amaco's Potter's Choice Seaweed on black clay. What's usually a lovely deep, sargasso-sea green becomes...agèd-looking, slightly shiny bronze?! Because pottery is magic & also alchemy?!*

*I know it's actually chemistry, but I don't understand chemistry beyond a very basic level so to me? ALCHEMY!

[league-of-sam]

Don't Be Shy | Konig x Reader

Kӧnig x TF141 x AFAB!Reader

PART TWO

Summary: Transferred against your will to a new task force to calm a troubled soldier, you felt way in over your head - especially when you came face to face with a 6'10" mountain of Austria. 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, human trafficking, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

1 / 3 / 4 / 5

As predicted, and as the newest addition to the task force, Fender wanted to see your abilities in action.

For days, he pushed you.

He had you run through all of their training exercises, of which you completed with full marks. By the time you were done, you were completely exhausted, and starving.

“Hey! Newbie!” A voice called as you laced up your boots.

Looking up, you saw a group of soldiers approaching you, two males, one female.

“Uh, hi.” You said, wiping your hands on your trousers as you stood.

“Horangi.” The first introduced himself, “This is Hutch and Calisto.”

“Calisto.” You hummed, “Cool name.”

“Not as cool as yours, Karma.” She replied, nudging you playfully.

You laughed, “Yeah, I got Soap to thank for that.”

“So, you’re 141?” Horangi asked.

“Yeah, been with them about a year, transferred here temporarily to-”

“Deal with Kӧnig,” Hutch cut you off, “Yeah, everyone knows why you’re here.”

You frowned.

No wonder Kӧnig kept to himself outside of missions, these people treated him like utter shit.

You looked around for the giant but came up empty.

“He seems nice.” You spoke.

Calisto snorted, hand moving to cover her mouth, “The guy is silent, doesn’t speak to anyone.”

Her laughing rubbed you the wrong way, and despite the two of you having a rather...hostile start, you felt the need to defend Kӧnig.

“Have you tried talking to him instead of waiting for him to speak to you?” you challenged.

She shrugged, shaking her head somewhat ashamedly. Hutch bared the same reaction, which told you all you needed to know; no one had even given him a chance.

“Say, uh, wanna join us for dinner?” Horangi said.

At the mention of food, your stomach grumbled loudly, making the group laugh, “Now you mention it, I’m starving.”

With that, the four of you made your way to the canteen, the darkness of the night drawing your attention to how late it actually was. The canteen was bustling, murmurs of numerous conversations flowing around you, creating a sea of sound.

It was strange, coming from a small, elite, taskforce to one that had at least 40 soldiers. You were used to home-cooked family meals with the 141, mostly cooked by you. Here, it was a full on cafeteria, trays and all.

You thanked the servers profusely as they placed the meal onto your tray, and then turned, scanning the room for a place to sit.

Calisto called your name, beckoning you over to the table she was at, sat alongside Fender and Roze.

Something else caught your eye, though.

In the corner, pushing the food around his plate, was Kӧnig. He was sat alone, and even the few tables in his immediate vicinity were empty. People avoided him like the plague.

With a soft smile to Calisto, you shrugged, and made your way to him.

Might as well get started now.

He didn’t look at you as you sat down in the seat opposite, but the room practically fell silent. It was enough of a change for him to finally look up, and that’s when you noticed the colour of his eyes.

Blue.

A gorgeous, crystalline, blue.

They widened as he saw you before him, his fork scraping against the pottery with an agonising squeal. You offered a small smile, fidgeting a little under his gaze.

“How is the food here?” you spoke. He didn’t reply, continuing to gawk at you, “It any good or am I about to get poisoned?”

You cringed internally at your attempt to make a joke, and his lack of an answer made things so much worse.

He looked the furthest from pleased, his eyes narrowing and the grip on his own fork seeming uncomfortably tight. You ate in an uncomfortable silence, until the density of the air became a little too heavy.

“What did you have?” you spoke again, nodding to his torn-up-but-barely-eaten food.

He just continued to stare at you with a shark-like gaze, as if you were some silly warbling seal swimming up to him in his lair. You tilted your head, confused by his reactions to your words. You wondered if, maybe, he’d get angry, but instead his eyes began darting around the room, as if he was waiting for someone to strike.

“I-is something wrong, Kӧnig?” you asked, trying to follow him in whatever it was he was searching the room for.

“Why are you asking me all these questions?” he finally spoke.

Your gaze faltered from him, an embarrassed blush creeping onto your cheeks, “Oh, uh, just trying to make conversation. We are partners after all-”

“I don’t need a partner, don’t need you.” He spat.

“I know it’s not exactly ideal for either of us.” You frowned, “But I’d like for us to get to know-”

“Who put you up to this?” he said, cutting you off with a raised voice, “Was it Horangi? No, Roze? Calisto? I saw you laughing with them.”

His voice got louder and louder with every word he threw at you, leaning in your direction angrily. Your hands began to shake, you were never good with hostility and confrontation, that’s why you were a sniper in the first place – you were out of the action.

That’s why Ghost was so protective of you.

He saw one of the rookies giving you a mouthful in the briefing room, once. Your small hands were shaking at your sides as you tried to swallow down tears. He’d wasted no time in saving you from that situation and giving that rookie a piece of his mind.

That’s when he and the rest of the 141 realised what a soft, kind, human you were, and how protective they all felt of you.

So, in this moment, when you could feel that lump in your throat rise and your eyes sting, you weren’t at all surprised. Annoyed with yourself, yes, but confrontation was not your strong suit.

“N-no, not at all!” you struggled to speak, “I wanted to speak to you, no one has made me do anything I swear.”

“Just leave me alone.”

He stood from the table with such force, that it sent the chair he’d been sitting on screeching and clattering backwards, toppling over with a deafening blow. It made you jump, but you did nothing as he stormed past you, whispering under his breath in a mixture of German and English.

The entire cafeteria was looking at you now, some looked terrified, some looking not-so-surprised.

Guess you knew now why no one spoke to Kӧnig.

You’d rushed from the canteen not long after him, the tears threatening to spill forcing you to the safety of your dorm.

Before you even had a chance to breathe, your tablet rang, signalling a video call.

When you answered, the faces of Soap and Ghost popped up, smiles on their lips as soon as they saw you.

“With all due respect, Lieutenant, this really isn’t a good time.” You sniffed, rubbing your eyes.

His and Soap’s excited demeanour immediately changed, the two of them sharing a look of concern before bombarding you with questions along the lines of who hurt you? Do we need to come? Say the word and we’ll kill whoever it is-

“Fucking hell, shut up!” you stopped them, but a giggle escaped your lips at their protective nature, “It’s fine, just…this guy is tougher than I thought.”

“I’ll say!” Soap spoke, “We read his file, lass. The man is an absolute nutjob.”

“That isn’t nice, Soap.”

“It’s true, kid. Did you read his file?” Ghost said, propping the camera up more.

“Only what Fender gave me.” You sighed.

“What about the classified stuff?”

“Funnily enough, Soap, I didn’t see that. In case you forgot, classified means not accessible.”

Soap grumbled under his breath at your retort, Ghost whispering for him to shut the fuck up. The sight made you laugh, honestly. The two were already like an old married couple.

It was adorable.

“What’s in the classified then? Anything I should know?” you pressed.

“He took out an entire human trafficking base in Berlin alone. Breached the doors and killed all twelve men in there on his own, without weapons. The guy is a psychopath.”

Your eyes widened in shock, “Christ…what the fuck has Price got me into? I just tried talking to him for the first time in days and he yelled at me in front of everyone and pushed a chair practically across the room.”

“Ya need to be careful, bonnie.” Soap said, worry striking his features.

“They treat him like shit here. I need to help him. He has issues with anxiety and not one person ever speaks to him outside of missions.”

“Just make sure you keep yourself safe, can’t have this guy hurtin’ ya.”

“Careful, Ghost – you’re really teetering on the edge of sounding like you care!” you teased, earning you an eye roll, “Besides, I don’t think there’s a whole lot I can do. Kӧnig is 6’10 and built like a brick shithouse.”

You couldn’t help but lose yourself in thought as your mind took you back to the office, seeing his giant body tower over you.

Unfortunately, Soap was being very observant, and he did not miss the way your tongue slowly licked over your lips.

“Karma…do not tell me you have a crush on this guy?!”

“W-what? Soap- no! I’ve just met him!” you screeched, but once again your face was heating, and you didn’t dare look at the two men before you.

“Fuckin’ steaming hell, you do!”

“No, I do not-!”

A knock at your door cut you off, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

Spilling out a rushed goodbye to the boys, who were speaking over one another to get you to stay, you cut them off, tossing the tablet behind you and approaching your door.

With a heavy hand, you pulled it open, only for your eyes to be level with a very hard chest.

Slowly, you tipped your head up, finally making eye contact with the last person you’d expected to see. You were cast in darkness, his frame completely blocking any light from the hallway seeping through.

“Oh, u-uh, Kӧnig…hi.” You said softly.

He looked down at you, shifting on his feet, “Commander said I had to come and…apologise?” he said, almost a question, as if wondering if that was the right word to use.

“Right, uh, no problem.” You nodded. “People aren’t nice to you, it’s natural to be wary, I understand.”

He nodded, opting not to speak.

A part of him did feel bad. You’d only tried to be nice, something he’d prayed for every single day, but the second he got what he wanted, those voices nagged in his head. He found it hard to believe your intentions were pure.

After all, you were everything he wanted to be, and he was coincidentally paired with you for this mission.

It was bullshit.

You stood there, twiddling your thumbs anxiously under his gaze, until he moved swiftly, stalking back the way he came. It left you dumbfounded for a moment, until the sound of Soap and Ghost calling you back on the tablet caused your eyes to roll, and you shut the door.

[junefiress]

the thing that really gets me in ep 3 is just how well the tlou team used the set design. Because when we first see Bill making this town his own, we see him going through shops and stocking up on gas. We see him setting up booby traps and security cameras. But his house, when frank first comes in to eat, is almost entirely,,,white. It's very plain and just a house, not a home. Bill is a survivalist, so clearly he's not very concerned with how the house looks and feels, just if he can survive in it. And then frank stays.

And the very first scene we see of them three years later is an argument over paint. It's frank telling him that home is how you treat your surroundings, too. That this is his street, too. And bill relents. and from then, we can see that the house becomes more colourful. the walls are blue and wine red. the curtains are golden and patterned. paintings and pottery line the walls. frank makes his house a home, and I think it really also illustrates his effect on bills life in general

[giverobinagfbrigade]

What if Steve took up pottery after everything.

He’s spent 4 years destroying things, tearing things apart with his hands and once it’s all over he wants to turn those same hands to something positive. To turn them to making something instead of pulling it apart. He cycles through hobbies, sketching making his hand cramp and the constant re-drawing tearing holes in the paper, the permanence of paint on canvas to terrifying and embroidery causing an ache in his eyes with it’s miniature stitches. All until he reaches pottery, it never make his hands cramp or his eyes ache and he could work the clay and re make the pots over and over, shaping and reshaping until it was just right.

So it sticks. At first he used the wheel in the studio at the school but with gentle encouragement from the party and Joyce he buys a second hand potters wheel and a small kiln from a house clearance. He sets them up in a corner of the garage furtherest from the house and late at night or rather, early in the morning he sits and works the cool clay over with his hands, the hands responsible for so much destruction, until it’s pliable. He takes it and forms it into whatever shape he can feel it trying to be. Over the weeks he creates many items, pots, jugs, mugs, cups, plates, bowls, dishes, stands and occasionally, when the spin of the wheel isn’t what he needs he sculpts tiny creatures and people with his fingers.

The first of these creations are plain and rough to the touch, unable to be washed as they were left unglazed. When Steve realised that you can’t use an unglazed mug for actual mug things, he purchased glazed, at first just clear and 5 colours, black, white, red, yellow and blue, but slowly he expands his collection, amassing all manner of different colours and finishes.

After the first couple of months practice, when the cups are even and the lids fit their pots, Steve begins to make things to give to the people he holds dear.

The first gift he makes is for Robin. It’s a little bird on a ships wheel, painted onto a mug, it’s slightly wonky and the paint is a little wobbly but it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. She cries when it’s first handed to her and she treats it like the smallest breeze will break it. But she still drinks her coffee from it every morning and cleans it the moment she’s done, lest the drink stain the glaze.

The second is for Dustin. This is a little jar, with a tiny cats head sculpted onto the lid. Painted with little scribbles of equations and formula, planks constant painted slightly thicker than the rest. Dustin hugs Steve so hard it makes his bones creak when it’s handed to him and he holds it in his palms like it might disappear in smoke if he lets it go.

Third is for El, he throws her a plate and spends hours painstakingly glazing the sunset from hopper’s cabin onto it. It’s a little thicker than it probably should be but it might not shatter so sharply if it ever breaks that way. She hugs it to her chest like a teddy and kisses Steve’s cheek. She tells him she loves it, and he knows she isn’t lying.

Number four is given to Erica. Unlike the others this one wasn’t thrown it was sculpted by hand, smoothed and stretched until the clay formed a tiny horse. He paints it the colours of the rainbow and places the fires piece into a tiny box. Erica sniffles when she opens it but she still calls him dickweed when she thanks him. He knows she adores it when he sees her wearing it on a chain like a necklace three days later.

Five is for max. This one the result of hours of research. Steve first throws a mug, then with the help of Robin and 2 books on braille he adds tiny lumps of clay to write two phases on the mug accompanied by their English written counterparts. First is “Max’s mug touch at your own risk “ the second is “ handle “ followed by an arrow in the opposite direction of the handle. Even through her heavy glasses he can see her tear up, but before he can reach out to hug her she reads the handle sign and cracks up, laughing so hard the tears track down her face anyway when she realises the arrow is misleading. The thick black lines of the writing a stark enough contrast against the white mug that she can see there’s writing rather than just feel it.

It’s a little while between the faith and sixth pieces but it makes it even better when it’s finally handed over after the end of season game. The sixth piece is for Lucas. It’s a little person holding a ball aloft like the Statue of Liberty, standing atop a goblet style cup that Steve took an age to throw quite right. Lucas tackles him to the floor and says it’s the best trophy he’s ever won. He sheds a couple tears when he reads the inscription on the bottom plaque.

Number seven is gifted to will, technically it’s two pieces. Created after hearing him talk of the perils of painting and drinking after hellfire one night. Two cups, different in size and shape as well as design, both painted a beautiful gradient, one of purple to green and the other blue to gold, with the purple and green with “paint water”written in curling letters across it and the blue and gold with “drinking water” in the same letters. Will thanks him sincerely and hugs him for far longer than normal. A week later he hands Steve an envelope containing a painting of a knight that looks suspiciously like him wielding a familiar bat like club. Steve is the one crying this time.

The eighth piece is given to Johnathan. It’s another piece shaped without the help of the wheel. This time a pipe, glazed in shining oxides and bright colours, painted over in tiny white stars. Few words are exchanged when it’s handed to him but even when struck speechless Johnathan finds a way to communicate his gratitude, holding open his arms to Steve. When he gets his words back, Jon invites him to christen the pipe, Steve politely declines. He’s sure the pipe receives much use.

Nine is handed gingerly to Hopper, a near perfect plate with “best dad I’ve ever had” painted i swirling letters across it, coloured a beautiful red. Hop clears his throat, tells him it’s beautiful then hugs him with almost too much force, cracking a joint in Steve’s back which sends them both chuckling. It’s on display in the cabin the next morning.

The tenth is presented to Mike. A small box which seems to confuse the boy until he opens it to find a version of his character laying inside. He stares down at it for a few moments, mouth open like he’s not sure what to say. Then very tentatively he wraps his arms around Steve in the first hug he’s ever given him. He speaks, a little muffled my Steve’s shirt “ You really are amazing Steve. “ . Steve pats the kids hair and beams.

Piece eleven is given to Joyce. It’s the biggest piece he’s made yet. A large round thrown plant pot, made in lovely terracotta clay he found specifically for this. Made after Joyce confessed she’d been trying out gardening. She kisses him on both temples and both cheeks and tells him she wouldn’t mind a third son. Steve cries again this time.

The twelfth is given to Nancy. It’s another hand sculpted piece, this time a beautiful pen holder, painted a soft pink and decorated with gold filigree work. He wrapped it in pink tissue and places it gently in her hand, Nancy is so quiet Steve starts to panic but as he opens his mouth she drags him into a rib creaking hug. “Oh Steve it’s beautiful.” He just smiles and tells her this way she’ll always know where she put it when inspiration strikes. She squeezes him a little tighter.

The penultimate piece is given to Wayne Munson. With everything that’s happened, and the slowly growing relationship between Steve and his nephew, Wayne is almost his second adoptive father. Steve takes a little while deliberating on what to give Wayne, a mug for certain but he wasn’t sure what to decorate it with. But after being startled awake for the third night in a row the idea finally seemed to materialise. When Steve handed him the finished mug a week later he clapped him on the shoulder, placed the mug on the table and wrapped him in a hug. He called Steve son and this time they both shed some tears. The next time Steve entered the house the “ best uncle in law “ mug was proudly displayed with the rest

The final piece, well pieces, were given to Eddie. It was a slowly growing collection, crafted over the course of several months. The first of these was a simple cup, painted a marbled red and metallic black courtesy of Steve experimenting with oxides. The second a mug proudly displaying the words “fuck Mordor” in beautiful curling script across one side and a painted mountain the other, created just after he and Eddie began reading the series together, taking it in turns to read a character aloud. The third and final piece was far more sentimental a small replica of a human heart, created after much study of library references, painted to look like a sunrise. This he placed into a little box with a note reading “ to my sunshine, you’ll always carry my heart with you .“. Steve placed these three together in a bag, each wrapped in tissue. He took them with him on a quiet Tuesday night on a visit to Eddie. And with shaking hands he held the bag out towards him. Eddie took it, looking perplexed until he opened the first wrapper, revealing the mug. Eddie had watched all the others slowly be gifted pieces of Steve’s pottery, even his uncle, and wondered if and what he would receive. He held the mug reverently in cupped hands, “ Oh Stevie, it’s beautiful-“. Steve only smiled, biting his lip and gesturing back to the bag. Carefully Eddie removed the second gift, the cup. Holding it just as carefully as the first, stroking over the surface with his thumbs, before placing them both and the bag down onto the table and holding Steve’s face in his hands. “ There’s one more. “ Steve smiled at him “ I need to kiss you till you can’t see straight first.” Steve only laughed and leaned in, meeting Eddie halfway. It was a soft kiss, full of unspoken affection, and when the two separated he gestured back at the bag. Eddie smiled and shook his head before taking the last piece out of the bag. Slowly he began to unwrap the tissue, then he opened the box. He went dead still, exhaling a shaking breath “ Oh sunshine -“ he reached out to cup Steve’s cheek with one hand, cradling the tiny ceramic heart with the other, “ that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” Steve beamed “ It’s a human heart baby, it’s not exactly cute.” Eddie shook his head “Oh it’s plenty cute, you made it it’s gotta be.” He paused “ I love it. Nearly, nearly as much as I love you. “. “Yeah?” Steve bit his lower lip, smiling. “ Oh definitely honey, I love you so much.” And if that same heart had a permanent home in a picture frame above eddies bed next to the note it came with, then no one mentioned it.

//AN : Okay if you made it this far holy shit thank you, I apologise for the gifts being cheesey as fuck or kinda shitty but I tried. This was born after watching the great pottery throw down with my parents.

[slothgiirl]

a moment of softness (xiao x reader)

1.1k. fluff. established relationship.

Xiao peeled the skin off the mandarin, going around and around, leaving the peel in one piece. It was a rare day when your lover took time to lounge around with you. He needed this: time to recuperate; time to take his mind off his duties to Liyue; time when he had you all to himself. 

You bend the stalk of the sweetflower into a circle, using blades of grass to tie it together making a circlet. 

“Do you want a slice?” He looks over at you through dark lashes. Xiao’s movements are hesitant. The anxiety that he would lose this, lose you, was at the forefront of his mind.

He’s been a warrior for so long, he doesn’t know how to be anything else. He doesn’t know how to trust this won’t end badly, another tally mark added to his karmic debt. 

“Mhm,” you nod, putting the circlet down. After the spring rains, all the countryside was a riot of colour. Blue glaze lilies, clusters of rhododendron, and silk flowers were bountiful for a few short weeks. 

You lean towards him, putting the circlet down and parting your mouth.

Xiao feeds you a slice. 

His thumb brushes over your lips as you take the slice. 

The juice explodes in your mouth, entirely sweet. Spring was your favorite season. Fruit was in season. 

The flowers reminded you of making daisy chains at school during break. 

Xiao caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. “How is it?”

“Sweet,” you smile adoringly at him, patting his thigh. “almost as sweet as you.”

Always easy to tease, Xiao flushes red.

You giggle, shifting even closer to him so you can kiss his cheek. “I love you.” It felt good to say. You love reminding him, you love saying the words out loud. You loved him. 

Xiao nods shakily. He cards his fingers through your hair. 

It was rare for him to say it back, such important words reserved for nights spent in his arms, words reserved for your ears only. 

“I love you Xiao,” you say again, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

He’s pliant, just for you. His breath hitches at every touch of your lips against his skin, at your hand on his shoulder. Your thumb rubs his thigh. 

You’re practically in his lap. It’s good that he’d chosen a spot away from the roads. 

“Here,” he feeds you another slice, watching you through heavy lidded eyes. 

You chew the slice. 

The juice fills your mouth. You make quick work of the pulp, swallowing it. 

Then you press your lips against Xiao’s, running your tongue against the seam of his lips. 

He’s eagerly receptive, parting his mouth. He grabs hold of your side, bunching up the fabric of your tunic in his fingers. 

You stroke your tongue against his, letting the mandarin juice flow into his mouth. 

Xiao keens under you, willing to take anything you offer. 

It was heady. Knowing how needy Xiao was for you, having a mighty adeptus completely besotted. Your heart swelled with love as you stroke his tongue against his. 

All too soon, you’re left breathless. 

Your shoulders heave as you catch your breath. You shift back, pulling away from him. 

Playfully, you ask, “was the fruit sweet?

Xiao rolls his eyes. His usual brusque demeanor doesn’t have the same effect when his lips are swollen, cheeks burning red. 

You pick up the circlet again, interweaving flowers into the sweetflower stalk. Sap leaves your fingers sticky. “Will I see you tonight?” 

“No.” 

“Why,” you prompt. 

“The rain has dislodged stones in the mountains. There are demons I must hunt down.”

You smile, “and yet you’re here.”

“I-” he pauses, looking into the distance, “I enjoy making time for you.” Xiao sighs, “and I know you worry when we do not see each other for weeks.” 

“Of course I worry,” you tell him, “and I miss you. Who else will listen to me complain about the unrealistic pottery orders. You can’t rush glazing, not even for the Tianquan. Or when someone asks for a glaze you tell them will set clear, it only looks blue, and then complains and claims you broke the contract when it’s done.” You tie another glaze lily around the circlet. It was more of a crown now. “I’ll show them the wrath of the rock.” You hired Yanfei often to deal with delusional customers. 

“Heh.” Xiao huffs, amused. 

“When you’re done dealing with demons,” you tell Xiao, “we should go swimming at Yaoguang Shore.” You knew he was loath to spend time in the populated Liyue Harbor beaches.  

As an adeptus, he drew lots of curious glances from people. 

It didn’t help that Xiao was a reserved man to begin with.

Yaoguang Shore would be better. 

“I would like that.” 

You smile, happily. You’d have to make almond tofu for dessert. That much was obvious. Zaytun peaches would make a good snack. Mint spring rolls would keep well thought given you’d be with Xiao, travel was quick. 

“There.” You finish the flower crown, placing it on your head. “What do you think?”

“You look like a dendro slime.” Xiao shakes his head at your antics. 

“Would you still love me if I was a dendro slime?”

“Unfortunately.”

You laugh, covering your hand with your mouth. Your lovers mouth tilts up, enjoying your reaction. “Xiao! It’s for one of Yun Jin’s performances. They’re doing Return of the Qilin.” Again. It was a popular opera during this time of year. “Do you want to come with me,” you ask, already knowing the answer. It didn’t matter. You just wanted to offer so Xiao would know he could come if he wanted. 

His face sours. “To Liyue Harbor?”

“Yeah,” you pat his leg. “I understand if you’d rather not.”

“I wouldn’t be entirely opposed,” Xiao cups his hand over yours, “to see an Opera with you.”

You sit with that thought, knowing him well enough. Xiao was pensive, mulling over the idea as he leans his head back, drinking in the sunlight. “Perhaps another time.”

“Alright,” you utter softly, admiring the view. He was stunning to look at. You were lucky to be with such a handsome man. You loved the way his soft hair framed his face, the planes of his jawbone, his broad shoulders you knew from experience could easily carry you. 

You sit up on your knees, leaning in to place the flower crown on his head. “There. Beautiful.”

Despite blushing, Xiao glows with your praising words. 

“Can I kiss you again?”

Xiao cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your skin softly, “you can kiss me as much as you’d like.”

Your head goes fuzzy in anticipation of spending the afternoon making out with Xiao. 

[beekeeperspicnic]

For those of you who have played the demo and wondered what the "creepy dog statue" Holmes has is, my intention is that it's a pottery Staffordshire dog. They look like this.

I've always found them really unnerving.

In Three Men in a Boat, Jerome K Jerome imagines what people 200 years in the future will think of them...

That china dog that ornaments the bedroom of my furnished lodgings.  It is a white dog.  Its eyes blue.  Its nose is a delicate red, with spots.  Its head is painfully erect, its expression is amiability carried to verge of imbecility.  I do not admire it myself.  Considered as a work of art, I may say it irritates me.  Thoughtless friends jeer at it, and even my landlady herself has no admiration for it, and excuses its presence by the circumstance that her aunt gave it to her. But in 200 years’ time it is more than probable that that dog will be dug up from somewhere or other, minus its legs, and with its tail broken, and will be sold for old china, and put in a glass cabinet.  And people will pass it round, and admire it.  They will be struck by the wonderful depth of the colour on the nose, and speculate as to how beautiful the bit of the tail that is lost no doubt was. We, in this age, do not see the beauty of that dog.  We are too familiar with it.  It is like the sunset and the stars: we are not awed by their loveliness because they are common to our eyes.  So it is with that china dog.  In 2288 people will gush over it.  The making of such dogs will have become a lost art.  Our descendants will wonder how we did it, and say how clever we were.  We shall be referred to lovingly as “those grand old artists that flourished in the nineteenth century, and produced those china dogs.”

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Help me choose a colour for a new front door!

Photos below (ignore the dusty tiles).

To be honest, I think all could work and so it might come down to a difference in cost, but I keep changing my mind on my favourite.

[astrum99]

You drew your palm away from it. Sticky with Red. The imprint of your being painted upon it. Red against blue.

A palm print, akin to the hundreds, thousands, millions of its copies in a not-so-distant past. The universe blinked, and mankind screamed. Alive, gone, instantaneous. Fraction of a tick in the grandfather clock – the grand scheme made everything so small.

What’s left of humanity was it. A being pure of heart, for it had no heart to begin with. A being eternal, until all life drains away. Until no one can recall its name.

And an imprint on its chassis. The exact shape and size of your left hand. You left your mark. Greedy. Your mind drew up images of similar copies made by human beings. Littered against cave walls, pottery, paper. Young and old, raised their hands and pressed to leave a mark.

I am was here. This is was my place. I took a part of the universe and, in spite of death, wished for more.

You glanced at your hands, stained thoroughly in your own blood. An angel bent to this degree of animality. Crimson red burned onto the deep blue frame. Iron oxide etched into the ancient walls.

My palm prints are here. Representing me. Lasting millennia. When someone sees it, they will think of me, and I will live on.

All fades away at the end of it all. A slow sleep into non-being. The past, present, and future sweep quietly away into total absolution and oblivion.

You brushed your palm against the red on blue. No one will be left to see this palm print. Painted in the first colours of our blood. The events here will be lost, just as all stories that came before. Just as all life that came before.

A hand close around yours. It is still here, right now.

And that must be enough to stay.

---

Quick note:

Iron oxide = first red paint made. Though I still feel like blood is likely the "first paint" <- did no research. The 'first colours of blood' is also a reference to the creation of angels being prior to humans'.

[winterchimez]

things/aesthetic you associate with your moots please!

hi anonie!! it’s been a while since i’ve done tag games like this so LETS GAUR 🤩

im doing for the ones that i talk to most often ✨

@from-izzy my soulmate 🤞🏻(who clearly SHOULD be living in my city instead), sunricyeon!!, ✌🏻level-headed and ☝🏻dum-dum, purple 💜, bunnies 🐰, raccoons 🦝, in constant denial of her love life 😒, long calls & video calls, SAUR, music 🎶, “ALLY HELP ME 🥺”, fellow believer in God, concerts, has 19374848 plans to meet up but our studies/job preventing us to do so 😞 (but we will beat them and meet irl someday SOON BCS I MANIFEST)

@sungbeam my precious lil 妹妹 🫶🏻, blue 🩵, “hear me out….but another changmin potential wip/plot 🤡”, photocards, that wet tree rat pc, if talent was a person its her, care packages 📦, fellow introverts ✌🏻, the one who convinced me to purchase my sony headphones while we were videocalling in the store 🥹, my sleep paralysis demon, “ALLY JIEJIE”, my cutie wookie little sis 😔💗, but also goes 😐 whenever i talk abt sangyeon 🙄

@aimeecarreros the unhinged and wild one in the b*****, 1/4 of sangyeon’s whores, twerking ✨, the best gif maker ever 😤, “so elena…pretty pwease can you gif this for moi 🥺”, BBANGJU 👅, “CORREQUE ✌🏻”, insanely hilarious and unhinged memes and text messages 24/7, the moodmaker of the group, “haysss *inserts stripping meme*”, teasing me 24/7 🙄, pinterest, fashion 😍, bridal dresses 🤍

@snowflakewhispers the SAVAGE, maknae and the demon (lovingly) in the b*****, teasing me is her everyday job atp 🙄🙄🙄, mrs jacob bae, 1/4 of sangyeon’s whores, spitting fire 24/7 🔥, matching sony headphones 🤍, matching macbook colours 🩶, psych & kids 💗, the sunwoo to my eric, apparently is in a messed up relationship/situationship with someone who shall not be named 🦝, the moot who lives the closest to where i am 🥹 (so faster get your ass back here after uni ends)

@daisyvisions the unnie of the b*****, NAUR, that iconic zoom selfie 😌✨, constantly being distracted at work bcs of ✨unholy thoughts✨, podcast 🎧, 1/4 of sangyeon’s whores, also joined in on the fun with elena & ophelia on teasing moi 😔, jerry lee 🤤, doggo 🐶, newnudeshot 😏📸, photoism 🎞️, spongebob memes, BIG SEXC BRAIN 🧠, late night talks while working, always judging me for some reason 🙃

@justalildumpling my dongsaeng 👧🏻, sunricyeon!!, black 🖤, ptsd from windows turning from black to bright blue, “pull a j” aka doing and leaving assignments till the very last minute 😁, “guys…..”, “yall…..”, a simp 🤓, attracted to red flags men (but not anymore 😚), FOODIE CHINGUS, malatang, “guys….can we just call for like 20 mins max…i promise it won’t take long” = a 6-7hours call, late night (or early mornings) video calls, SHE IS A BEAUTY AN ICON AND SHE IS THE MOMENT 😍

@ethereal-engene my long-lost best friend 🥹, JU HAKNYEON 🍊, anime!!, men in glasses 🔛🔝, fellow chinese friend ❤️, cny 🧧, lion dances 🦁, WOOZI (ESP IN LONG HAIR 😩😩😩), matching hakkie pottery pcs 🤍, wips brainstorming ✍️, another cutie lil 妹妹 🥺, arms….and pecs 🤓, editing 👩‍💻, convos abt our studies/work life 💗

@kimsohn kim sunwoo, pinterest, “maya….i had a dream abt sangyeon….”, “oh!”, anime!!, that smiling and then speechless meme, sangyeon drenching himself in water 😀, “so when are you gonna write this”, sunric sluts, tbosas, coriolanus snow, always talking abt being on writers block with one another but eventually gets things done (and sometimes its long af), being caring 🥺, food!!

@quaissants 1/2 of my gremlins 👹, sends me lip gloss sangyeon 24/7, my twinnie 🤞🏻, same birthday & mbti 💗, speaks in such a soft manner like hello 🥺, genshin impact!!, ragnvindr bros ❤️💙, childe 🤓, angsty angst ❤️‍🩹, constantly looking out for me 🥹, men 😃, “i have selective reading”

@sanaxo-o another 1/2 of my gremlins 👹, unhinged as a person, sabrina carpenter 💗, flirty af but then i dont return the favour 😄, sends me sangyeon content 24/7, a great listener and gives me comfort, always checking up on others, ✌🏻level-headed and ☝🏻dum-dum, “LET ME BETA YOUR FICS”, pinterest, “Als”

@stealanity my unnie 🥺💗, always looking out for everyone, the big sister of the net, amazing as a person (i admire you loads), moodboards 😍, aesthetics ✨, a field of flowers 🌹🪻🌸🌺, brave (never afraid to speak up!!), i miss you sm unnie always 🫶🏻, calls me a cutie 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

@cloverdaisies CLO MY LOVE 💚, great britian 🇬🇧, fish & chips, “you have no rights ally ive revoked them”, “you dont love me anymore 🥺” aka clo’s way of making me feel guilty that i couldn’t visit her when i was back in EU (IT WILL HAPPEN ONE DAY I SWEAR I WILL BE BACK 😤😤😤), writing fics for one another 💗, STRONG ASS WOMAN 💪 (who juggles between work and uni all on her own 🥹🫂), “there’s a rat in my apartment”, phone & video calls (which we havent done in a while and we should again!!)

@juyeonszn my fawnie my bubba 🥹, coffee ☕️, zeneration livestream 🙌🏻, crying tgt, unboxing albums ✨, pcs collection, puppies 🐶, anime!!, big sexc brain 🧠, sunric sluts, INSANE MAKEUP LOOKS 😩, delulu is the solulu ✨, education 📚, never-ending talks on dc (which we haven’t done in a while i miss you loads 🥺), my fellow dancer 💃, if cutie was a person its fawnie 💗

@itsbeeble my pookie 🫶🏻, kim sunwoo, another big sexc brain 🧠, taylor swift 💛, eras tour ✨, “ALLY GO TO SLEEP”, eric sohn, ateez & svt!!, memes 24/7, exposing each other’s asses 😄, biker sunwoo 😩, delulu is the solulu ✨, another coffee buddy ☕️, talks abt uni/work life, always bouncing off ideas with one another

[abczine]

Sometimes you never forget the gifts from a demon. Read more of Jemimah's story in @seedsofwinter 's "But Can I Be."

Jemimah knew the truth and remembered even now. She had loved being an itty-bitty creature in a great big world! She had been a blue gecko, the very colour of her mother’s beautiful dress that she had loved for so long. While a storm blew overhead into that night, she had played in and around one of her earliest triumphs in pottery, then the perfect size for a girl-turned-gecko.

Download the Above, Below, and the Common Ground Zine for free or with a donation! We're fundraising for the National Network to End Domestic Violence

🌍 https://abczine.gumroad.com/l/zine 🌏

[justjams2003]

Indiana Jones Blurb

Okay so this is just s quick little blurb bc I've recently become obsessed with him. Not spell checked or anything. Tell me if y'all would read more Indiana Jones 😜

Time travel! He's the first person to have recorded time travel! And just look! Ancient hundred year old war machines, tactics, languages, things he'd been studying his whole life! Things that he'd spend his much younger days searching for in dusty dry lands, in dark caves or even wet rat filled locations. But now, here it all is, in it's prime out in the open on green grass under blue skies. And the cherry on top, he reached Nasser before those damn Nazi's could.

"Kind Sir, you have saved my people and brought knowledge with that has sped up my research for years. How can I repay you?" Nasser confronts Indiana in his ancient and he answers without a single thought. "Can you give me one more visit through time before I go back?" His old hands shake as he begs. The mathematician examines the clock in his hands. And then nods. "I repay the man who has given me more time, with time. Where to?"

It's a swift, smooth blur, much different than the incredibly bumpy plane ride the first time. And much, much more quiet. The first thing he hears is your voice, begging his own father to stay awake. He remembers this like it was yesterday. He'd just confessed his love to you the first time, believing he would die in the three quests to the holy grail. But as selfish as he was back then, he didn't wait for a reply.

Then, he sees you hunched over his dying father. Covered in dust and your skin the same golden colour he used to be. Now in his old age one of his many regrets was not having you both wear more sunscreen. "Psst! Doll face!" He whispers his nickname for you, and by some force of the universe, you're the only one who raises their head. "I need some fresh air..." You mumble and once again the damn Nazi's let you, knowing you wouldn't run off.

He's hiding by some rocks, but your souls are attracted to the other and you find him almost instantly. You're just like he remembers you. How he wished he spent more time focused on you instead of old gold and pottery. Because that there is always more of, but of you there never will be. "Indy?" Your voice is like sweet melodies to his ears. His past and present collides in one cruel bang as he pulls you as close as he can.

He holds you tight as he can, you're utterly confused. Not only by his presence but also by the sheer force he holds you. As if he's lost you a million times over. "Indy? No...not my Indiana." He laughs at your confusion, trying to drink up every single bit of you. Your smell, your voice, the crinkle between your brows and your warm smile. "Always so clever, doll face." Your nose scrunches up and the crinkle between your brows grows, but before you can say anymore, he interrupts you.

"I don't have much time to explain, but-" You can see tears form in his eyes. His hands are shaking and he still refuses to let you go. "But I need you to break my heart. I need you to leave me and never come back. Please-" his voice cracks, and he shudders, trying to keep himself composed to finish his request. "Please I can't handle the hurt anymore." You can see just how much he is struggling. How much he wants to break down in your arms. And you reply by pulling him tighter. He smells much different. There is no longer that lingering scent of leather and gunpowder. But his warmth is still the same, your body still fits in his the same.

"I'm not there anymore, am I?" All he does is shake his head, you know he wants to cry. "How long has it been? Without me, I mean." He shudders again, grabbing your shirt and clenching it. "Six years. It was-" you stop him, "And you still love me?" Again, he just nods. "Then why do you want to get rid of me?" Now the flood gates open, while you just stand there as his support. "Because if I don't love you, then I won't hurt anymore. Please, please I can't do this anymore. I can't live without you."

You push him off you. "No. No I won't do it, you senile old man. Over my dead body." His eyes hold so much pain, so much fear, you know what he really wants, is to get rid of the pain and have you back. "I won't mess with time. And I won't break the heart of the man I love. Not because he's become a wuss in his old age." This causes him to laugh, he misses that spark so much. "I love you, Indy. Please don't grow cold because of it." Your words strike him, deeper than any bullet, whip or knife. Is this really how he wants to spend his last moments with you?

He laughs again, and pulls you close, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Don't ever change. And keep that reckless boy in check." You laugh, and wrap your arms around him. You still can't make your arms all the way around him. "I will, you know that. And I love you, I hope you know that too."