#hand painted wood tea box

[stararch4ngelqueen]

High-Rise Melancholy

—

Time Written-11:23 a.m. (Pt.1 )

Jason Todd/fem!reader angst

—

A sharp clash of painted porcelain smashes against the doorway you almost crossed, shattering the thick plastic light switch frame.

An involuntary yelp left your lips from the sharp sound of impact, watching the fragments of what was once your indigo blue, gold star and moon coffee mug, once full of sleepy time tea, scatter the ground in seconds.

Wide eyes meet yours, the culprit of throwing the mug peering back at you with eyes much wider than yours behind his mask.

The bedroom was laced in silence, the tension elevated into high alarm. Static laced his tongue once he realized what he’d done, the idea of harming you bringing his knees to nearly buckle.

He swore you weren’t standing there a second ago, what was he thinking? He nearly hit you, he almost—

“GET OUT!!” He shouts, screaming into the flames of the chaos he caused. Your eyes grew wider, your feet nearly stumbling back as you retreated. Enraged, milky eyes grew close as he stomped forward, trembling hands grasping hold onto the edges of the door.

“GO! GET THE— GET THE FUCK OUT!!” His raised voice cuts short once he slams the door in your face, preventing you from seeing him crumble any further.

Out of the eighty six to ninety percent change you had to seeing him in this manner, it never got any easier. He’d shut down, he’d throw things, he’d shout so loud it would concern the neighbors.

However, as Batman abides by his unique, golden rules of logic, Jason’s was much more simple:

He’d never, ever raise a hand to you. Ever.

You wait in the kitchen for nearly ten minutes, lit up by the warm glow of the stove light. A fresh cup of tea waited for you, alongside a mug of strong coffee. Your boyfriend locked himself into your shared bedroom, your inaccessible phone laying abandoned on its charger on your bedside table.

You couldn’t check up on him like this, no matter how much you wanted to. He needed space, needing a minute to calm down, however long that minute would end up taking.

You were in the kitchen when he came home, dressed in plaid sweatpants and his red hoodie with a box of pancake mix in your hand, moments away from preparing an early breakfast before he’d sleep in until late in the afternoon.

Maybe it was your mistake. You heard the difference in his heavy footsteps when he returned this morning. Heavy, dirty soles scraping against hard wood floor in frustrating stomps, rather than exhausted drags.

You probably shouldn’t have treaded behind him with strong concern, wanting to make sure he was alright, preparing to dote on him if needed. You would say you’ve gotten better at it, but after this, you felt thrown back towards square one.

He’s tired, he’s angry. He just needs a minute.

You force yourself to think this, trying to keep your composure as your eyes peer down at Jason’s coffee, your fingertips settled on the warmth of the mug contrasting against the cold countertop.

Eventually, the faint click of your bedroom door was heard down the short hallway before comes to you. The softest creaks of the wood gave way once his socked feet transfer towards cold tile before warm arms encasing you in a deep embrace.

The faint smell of wet dirt, rain water and petrichor flood your senses, his sweat damp hair tickling behind your ear as he tucks his head against the valley of your neck in silent shame.

“M’sorry,” His tired, weak voice ripples against your skin, the voice of a weak, little boy coming forth inside the body of a grown man. “Didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean to hurt you—“

“You didn’t,” your wavering voice cuts him off, to his dismay at what he assumed was your denial. “Jason, don’t say that, you didn’t hurt me-“

“I almost did!” He insists, hot trembling breath fanning along your neck whilst his broad, jacket shrouded arms squeezed you tighter. “I swear! I-I wasn’t thinking, I.. I wasn’t—“

He cuts himself off, his chest heaving with his increased breathing. You try to take the opportunity to turn yourself, feeling his arms hesitate in their tight grasp once he realized what you were trying to do.

His shoulders tremble as he contemplates you seeming him like this. No, he didn’t want you to even look at him, but you were just as stubborn as he was with persistence.

Jason’s head rose off your shoulder, keeping himself turned towards the side as you finally face him. You didn’t need to look into his eyes to see how frustrated with himself he was, the angry, shameful tears leaving thick tracks down his chiseled cheeks.

Dark bags outlined his sockets, tired wrinkles crowning the corners of his pink, flushed eyes.

“Jason,” his name softly rolled off your tongue, making the man sniffle after he lowers his avoided gaze.

Your arms snugly wrap around his neck, your hand cradling his head towards your shoulder. His muscles remained stiff three seconds longer before melting, fat tears seeping into the shoulder of your hoodie.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, baby.” His weak voice trembles, scattered breath steaming against the damp fabric. Please, don’t be angry with me.

You’d never be angry with him. You trust him to never hurt you.

“I forgive you,” came your gentle reply, but it would take a while for the shame to slip off his nerves. For now, you held the tall, large man against your frame, quietly comparing him to a ridiculously large teddy bear you’d win at a boardwalk carnival.

“I’ll get you another mug,” he murmurs against your neck, making you huff out an amused breath.

“We have a hundred more in the cabinets,” you mused, referring to your thrift store of a stock that took up two shelf spaces.

“I-“ he tried to speak again, thinking of some other way he could possibly apologize for his outburst, but you weren’t gonna have it.

“Jason, enough,” You cradle his face, wanting to kiss all his tears away straight from the source. “It’s okay. I’m okay, you’re okay. Okay?”

A small part of you wants to smile at how many times that word has been repeated, but it was a chisel on a block of ice when it came to Jason. A warmed chisel, hoping to strike an impact on his troubled mind faster than anything else.

He’d let you break him harder than he broke your possessions, even when it was never intentional. He’d let you harm him worse than he ever did towards the criminals, the ‘so-called victims’ from his Lazarus youth.

He’d watch your hand raise, yet it never struck, it soothed. When he believed everything in his new life grew more hateful and cruel, the graze of your fingertips remained subtly sweet. Pure autumn honey and warm milk for his battered soul.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you settle, running your fingers through his sweat curled locks nearly flattened down along the top of his head. The consequences of wearing a helmet for many hours at a time.

“Go take a shower. I’ll make you those cinnamon roll pancakes you like, then you can get some sleep. Okay?”

A tinge of a smile formed on the corner of his lip, albeit temporary, it was still visible.

“Okay.”

[squiddy-god]

"Antique hearts"

Zhongli x reader

Sweet, cute, and domestic fluff with the former geo archon turned charming man. More re-uploads. As usual no beta no prof

♥︎REQUEST ARE OPEN♥︎ don't be shy, send request for any of the fandoms on my fandom list, you can even recommend shows/games if they aren't there. Or even if you just want to chat! Anon is also always open!

────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹───────────────

Hesitance was etched along his defined features when you suggested a trip to mondstat, nothing too long, simply a day away from the familiar mountains of liyue. "Are you sure my dear? " He inquired, you nodded smile painted on your face, "it'll just be for a day I promise, there's a place I'd love to take you" 

How could he say no when you gave him such a hopeful expression. He let out a deep sigh, amber eyes closing gently. It was no secret that zhongli was not a fan of mondstat taverns, the oddities that they often served- it simply wasn't his cup of tea. Thankfully you had no intention of taking him somewhere like the cat tail or angel's share, no no, you were planning to take him somewhere you were certain he'd love. "Alright, I suppose a day's visit to the city of wind wouldn't hurt" He agreed, still slightly sceptical. 

Holding his gloved hand in yours you lead the tall man through the stone streets of mondstat. Although the geo Lord stuck out quite a bit in his liyue attire, people still smiled nonetheless. "Dear, where exactly are you taking me? " His inquisitive gaze was locked upon you, the rich hues of his eyes holding a silent plea that it wasn't a tavern. "Well we're almost there! You'll see soon" 

You were indeed right, you soon came to a quaint cafe, a hole in the wall that was almost never packed. 

He took in the sight, a charming sign hung up above and the small chalkboard with a drawn cake and teacup, it gave a calm atmosphere he rather appreciated in a city such as the bustling mondstat. "Wait until you see the inside" You chirped, interlocking your fingers and leading the way. 

The interior was plastered with a warm yellow wallpaper, murals of cities and gardens painted on the walls. It was as if  each wall was a new place, straight from a story book's pages. But truly what caught. His eyes were the antiques. The front room was adorned in cute white shelves stacked with anything from porcelain birds to beautiful oak jewelry boxes. Elegant carvings in the dark wood drew his eyes to inspect them, a shimmer of curiosity lighting his dazzling face. 

You smiled seeing him so happy, the gentle smile he now dawned warmed your heart and you chuckled. The lady at the front desk created you with a warm smile before leading you to a table in the further back of the cafey. Zhongli admired the walls, beautiful flower bushes and charming window shutters tying together in a landscape unfamiliar yet beautiful. 

"This place is quite charming, hmm, even the cloth on the table holds much character, perhaps this place holds interesting stories" He mused holding his chin. He was delighted to learn they had a vast selection of tea, some blends even from liyue harbor, how curious that such a small cafe had such selection. 

His gloved thumb traced the smooth porcelain cup, swirls of gold lining the rim with pale yellow flowers painted on the smooth surface. 

"This is a common shape for tea cups, the design is wider and lends itself to the maximization of surface area" He began, eyes shifting subtlety from the hot liquid to your eyes. You happily listened as he went on, gently placing the cup down on the matching saucer as you intertwined your fingers atop the table. His voice was soothing and calm, the slight rasp lending itself well to his deep vocals. "The reason for this is to focus on the texture and feel of the tea, specifically teas with rich and velvet textures. Hence it is often used to serve black teas such as Sichuan Imperial Gongfu" He finished, a warm smile on his face as he sipped his tea. 

He always loved when you listened to him, he adored how appreciated you made him feel. That twinkle of attentiveness in your eyes as he spoke, yes, he'd make sure to return that love ten fold.

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[marveltrumpshate]

Want to participate in Marvel Trumps Hate, but don't know what to offer? Think outside the box!

Stumped on what to offer because you don't write fic or draw? Marvel Trumps Hate welcomes a huge variety of fanworks and fan labor (see our sign-up post), so there are different ways you can contribute. You'll be amazed by the breadth of skills, talents, knowledge, and types of creative expression found in fandom!

Here's a smorgasbord of offers that we've either had before or seen people discuss as possibilities for MTH 2024 or future years to help inspire you. What you can offer is not restricted to the list below; these are just examples to get you brainstorming about what you can auction off because trust us, even if you think you might not have something to offer, you probably do!

ART (VISUAL/ILLUSTRATIVE)

Drawings/illustrations

Single-page and multi-page comics

Pixel art

Paintings (oil, acrylic, gouache, watercolor)

Mixed-media artwork on canvas

Ink-on-bristol art

Embroidery on canvas

Pour paint/spin art

Rotoscopes

Digital coloring books

AUDIOVISUAL WORKS

Fan music or filk inspired by characters, ships, or fics

Podfics

Videos (fic trailers, themed edits, vids set to songs)

Animations (making original art/animation or turning existing art into animation)

BETA SERVICES

Editing

Cheer reading

Soundboarding/planning/development work

Fact-checking

Culture-picking

Sensitivity reading

Knowledge about specific topics or experiences (e.g., identities, lifestyles, professions, interests, fields of study)

Research

CRAFTS & MERCH

Candles

Lip balms

Soaps

Stained glass/suncatcher

Scented beanbag-style sachets

Candy/chocolate/baked goods/jellies/sweets

Fic/character/ship/theme boxes (like book boxes)

Pins, magnets, patches, charms, standees, key chains, ring holders, calendars, stickers, bookmarks, temporary tattoos

Sculptures and clay figures

Ceramic mugs and other ceramic items

Apparel/wearable accessories (shirts, jackets, scarves, gloves/mittens, hats, face masks, regular masks, cowls, pajamas/onesies)

Backpacks, tote bags, itabags with custom window shapes, leather dice bags, wallets, pouches/pencil cases

Plushie animal or Tsum Tsum versions of Marvel characters

Dolls (crochet, needle felt, matte board, hand-sewn)

Embroidery hoops/wall art and cross stitch pieces

Jewelry (diamond painting, macrame, metal, crochet, wire, beads)

Woodwork/wood burning (cheese board, box/chest, USB stick, coasters, photo frame, alphabet blocks)

Glasswork

Custom Funko Pops

Paper cut light boxes

Pillow cases, quilted pillows, baby blankets, dishcloth/washcloths, potholders

Handmade leather journals

Linoleum stamps

Dog/cat/pet toys

Artbooks, paper doll books, and coloring books

Hand-dyed yarn skeins

Custom tea blends

DIGITAL (GRAPHIC DESIGN)

Gifsets

Graphics/edits

Mood boards

Photo manips

Fic covers/posters/banners

Icons and headers

Webweaving

Tumblr or website layouts

Digital calendars

Wallpapers

Custom Discord emojis

FAN LABOR & TRANSLATION

Typesetting

Bookbinding

Recipes based on characters, ships, or themes

Names, tags, and summaries for fics

Audio/sound editing and/or soundscaping for podfics

Book cover design and printing

Art/comic/fic translation

Website/game/AO3 skin coding

Fic rec lists

Fic playlists/fanmixes

Knitting/crochet patterns

Art coaching

Help with launching and organizing fan events

WRITING

Fic

Poetry

Meta posts

Social media AUs

Physical letters written by characters to the reader or between two characters

Remixes of your fic or an existing fic with the author's permission

Whether you can do something on this list or something else altogether (we're sure there are a lot of other things that you can do that we haven't thought about or seen before), we hope you'll consider signing up before the deadline: September 28, 11:59 PM ET.

[laurbiek]

I can't stop reading your Hozier imagines! sooooo good😃❤❤ can I please request one where he's always saying that yn is his soulmate (she is, but she doesnt admit it) idk I've been thinking about this concept , and who more deserving than our tall boy? 😍😍

noun: soulmate

a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.

Andrew had a list of reasons why he believed he had met his true soulmate. He felt so comfortable around Y/N, like it was easier to breathe around her. She was furniture in the house in the best way, a beautiful addition that is right where it belongs, always where he needs it. She fit in every part of his life, like she was part of the puzzle his life will be displayed as. He felt like she was helping him put the puzzle together, she had the image on the front of the box and put the small bits together with a relaxed ere that Andrew could never achieve.

He often tried to tell her this, and she rolled her eyes at his artistic sappiness.

It happened once when he was sick, he had pushed himself too far in the studio and ended up with laryngitis, again. Y/N's heart melted at his sad scratchy voice and his sweater arms pulled over his hands. She plodded up the stairs with a mug of tea with plenty of honey, and pushed open the old, painted door that would often get stuck in the frame. Andrew's head picked up from his pillow slightly, and fell back down after recognizing the figure. Her socked feet continued over the antique hardwood floors that have held up for centuries, and placed the mug on the slightly more modern bedside table next to her resting husband. She pushed his messy hair out off his face and placed a kiss on his heated forehead. Andrew started to lean up, and reached his lithe arm out to grab his mug of extra-sweet tea.

"You're really my soulmate, Y/N", he said, as a thank you.

"Ok, whatever you say" Y/N replied, laughing slightly, thinking him a little dramatic.

______

Another time, Y/N was yelling for him from the hallway. He poked his head out of his music room and saw Y/N drop the tool box on the ground next to their bedroom.

"I need help taking this door off, I'm tired of it sticking so I'm taking the paint off "

"You can do that?"

"Yeah, there's a paste that like, dissolves the paint or something"

"Why don't we just, buy a new door?"

"It's been in the house for so long, I would feel bad! And its so beautiful, I just hate that all wood these days is covered in white paint"

Andrew stared at her, he knew she loved old things, but watching her take the time to restore something old and meaningful was so sweet, he appreciated that she shared his love of antiques and vintage items.

"You're my soulmate, you know that?", he added after his pause.

"Yeah yeah. Just be ready to catch the door"

______

He helped her set up the door in the garage to be worked on, and often checked on her whenever he took breaks from his music. He liked to bring her drinks, and iced tea (which he found offensive, as an irishman), topped with ice and often, a lemon wedge.

He placed the cold glass on the work bench in the back of the garage, the doors open with a view of the rain pouring outside. Y/N stood in her "messy" clothes, which consisted of a ratty t-shirt that she's kept for years, and paint stained leggings. He watched her slather whatever mysterious liquid she claimed could strip paint on the old door. Andrew walks over to her, and places a small kiss on her shoulder blade while she works.

"Thank you babe", she exclaims, without l looking up from her work.

"Anything for my soulmate"

"Ok, let me know when you find her"

______

Andrew closed the door to their bedroom, now nice and lacquered, the beautiful brown wood now free from the paint that trapped it for many years. The antique knob, polished and brassy, felt cold under his hand, and he could feel the latch click through the metal. The room was dark, Y/N having gone to bed an hour or two ago. He turns the TV in front of their bed off, and climbs into bed, tucking the lush covers around him and Y/N.

His arm stretched out to pull Y/N a little closer, his had cradling the back of her head.

"I love you Y/N, you're my soulmate", he says, even though he knows she's asleep.

It's the only time he can say it and have it be treated with the reverence it deserves.

[zoesblogsposts]

o 625 words to know in your target language o

There is a really interesting blog called "Fluent Forever" that aids foreign language learners in tricks, tips and techniques to guide them to achieving fluency "quickly" and efficiently. One of the tricks is to learn these 625 vocab words in your target language, that way you have a basis to start delving into grammar with ease as you can understand a lot of vocab right off the bat. Plus this list of words are common across the world and will aid you in whatever language you are learning. Here is the list in thematic order

• Animal: dog, cat, fish, bird, cow, pig, mouse, horse, wing, animal

• Transportation: train, plane, car, truck, bicycle, bus, boat, ship, tire, gasoline, engine, (train) ticket, transportation

• Location: city, house, apartment, street/road, airport, train station, bridge hotel, restaurant, farm, court, school, office, room, town, university, club, bar, park, camp, store/shop, theater, library, hospital, church, market, country (USA,

France, etc.), building, ground, space (outer space), bank, location

• Clothing: hat, dress, suit, skirt, shirt, T-shirt, pants, shoes, pocket, coat, stain, clothing

• Color: red, green, blue (light/dark), yellow, brown, pink, orange, black, white, gray, color

• People: son, daughter, mother, father, parent (= mother/father), baby, man, woman, brother, sister, family, grandfather, grandmother, husband, wife, king, queen, president, neighbor, boy, girl, child (= boy/girl), adult (= man/woman), human (# animal), friend (Add a friend's name), victim, player, fan, crowd, person

• Job: Teacher, student, lawyer, doctor, patient, waiter, secretary, priest, police, army, soldier, artist, author, manager, reporter, actor, job

• Society: religion, heaven, hell, death, medicine, money, dollar, bill, marriage, wedding, team, race (ethnicity), sex (the act), sex (gender), murder, prison, technology, energy, war, peace, attack, election, magazine, newspaper, poison, gun, sport, race (sport), exercise, ball, game, price, contract, drug, sign, science, God

• Art. band, song, instrument (musical), music, movie, art

• Beverages: coffee, tea, wine, beer, juice, water, milk, beverage

• Food: egg, cheese, bread, soup, cake, chicken, pork, beef, apple, banana orange, lemon, corn, rice, oil, seed, knife, spoon, fork, plate, cup, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sugar, salt, bottle, food

• Home: table, chair, bed, dream, window, door, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, pencil, pen, photograph, soap, book, page, key, paint, letter, note, wall, paper, floor, ceiling, roof, pool, lock, telephone, garden, yard, needle, bag, box, gift, card, ring, tool

• Electronics: clock, lamp, fan, cell phone, network, computer, program (computer), laptop, screen, camera, television, radio

• Body: head, neck, face, beard, hair, eye, mouth, lip, nose, tooth, ear, tear (drop), tongue, back, toe, finger, foot, hand, leg, arm, shoulder, heart, blood, brain, knee, sweat, disease, bone, voice, skin, body

• Nature: sea, ocean, river, mountain, rain, snow, tree, sun, moon, world, Earth, forest, sky, plant, wind, soil/earth, flower, valley, root, lake, star, grass, leaf, air, sand, beach, wave, fire, ice, island, hill, heat, nature

• Materials: glass, metal, plastic, wood, stone, diamond, clay, dust, gold, copper, silver, material

• Math/Measurements: meter, centimeter, kilogram, inch, foot, pound, half, circle, square, temperature, date, weight, edge, corner

• Misc Nouns: map, dot, consonant, vowel, light, sound, yes, no, piece, pain, injury, hole, image, pattern, noun, verb, adjective

• Directions: top, bottom, side, front, back, outside, inside, up, down, left, right, straight, north, south, east, west, direction

• Seasons: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, season

• Numbers: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41, 42, 50, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91, 92, 100, 101, 102, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 10000, 100000, million, billion, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, number

• Months: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

• Days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

• Time: year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, morning, afternoon, evening, night, time

• Verbs: work, play, walk, run, drive, fly, swim, go, stop, follow, think, speak/say, eat, drink, kill, die, smile, laugh, cry, buy, pay, sell, shoot(a gun), learn, jump, smell, hear (a sound), listen (music), taste, touch, see (a bird), watch (TV), kiss, burn, melt, dig, explode, sit, stand, love, pass by, cut, fight, lie down, dance, sleep, wake up, sing, count, marry, pray, win, lose, mix/stir, bend, wash, cook, open, close, write, call, turn, build, teach, grow, draw, feed, catch, throw, clean, find, fall, push, pull, carry, break, wear, hang, shake, sign, beat, lift

• Adjectives: long, short (long), tall, short (vs tall), wide, narrow, big/large, small/little, slow, fast, hot, cold, warm, cool, new, old (new), young, old (young), weak, dead, alive, heavy, light (heavy), dark, light (dark), nuclear, famous

[chokopoppo]

MONSTROUS REGIMENT. // And the new day was a great big fish. [[ Listen on Spotify ]]

Program notes--and spoilers for Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett--below the cut.

1.Children's Work // Dessa

When the wagon tipped, I prayed over your body I asked God to take the damage out on me Ten years later, he finally gets the memo Sent it to accounting and knocked out my front teeth

'She hadn't set out to be an ornithologist. But birds brought Paul alive. All the...slowness in the rest of his thinking became a flash of lightning in the presence of birds. Suddenly he knew their names, habits, and habitats, could whistle their songs, and, after Polly had saved up for a box of paints off a traveler at the inn, had painted a picture of a wren so real you could hear it.'

OR

'...well, yes. She'd heard the song, too. So what? Paul was her brother. She'd always kept an eye on him, even when she was small. Mother was always busy, everyone was always busy at The Duchess, so Polly had become a big sister to a brother fifteen months older than she. She'd taught him to blow his nose, taught him how to form letters, went and found him when crueler boys had got him lost in the woods. Running after Paul was a duty that had become a habit.'

2. Barnacled Warship // Johnny Flynn

Well, I left home three days ago I feel like going to bed Open the courts and a new religion Burning through my head

' "All the good bits in this country are in this tent," said the voice of Wazzer.

'Embarrassed silence descended.'

OR

'Jackrum softened his voice a little when he saw their expressions. "Lads, this is war, understand? He was a soldier, they were soldiers, you are soldiers... more or less. [...] Bury 'em decent and say what prayers you can remember, and hope they've gone back where there's no fighting." '

3. The Railroad // Goodnight, Texas

Run, run, run with the railroad Get out of their sight When the engine turns and you've got to move on Then you've got to move on at night

' "I expect you were glad to leave," was all Polly could say.

' "The basement window was unlocked," said Tonker. '

OR

' "D'you know why we joined up?" said Tonker, red in the face. "To get away! Anything was better than what we had! I've got Lofty and Lofty's got me, and we're sticking with you because there's nothing else for us! [...]"

"Then go!" shouted Polly. "Desert! We won't stop you, because I'm sick of your... your bullshit! But you make up your mind right now, right now, understand?" '

4. Dig Gravedigger Dig // Corb Lund

I asked about ghosts and spirits I asked him if he ever got spooked I asked him if he ever got haunted by souls, But he reckons that he buries them, too.

'The charcoal-burner and his wife were buried to the accompaniment of, to Polly's lack of surprise, a small prayer from Wazzer. [...]

'Wazzer prayed for everyone. Wazzer prayed like a child, eyes screwed up and hands clenched until they were white. The reedy little voice trembled with such belief that Polly felt embarrassed, and then ashamed, and, finally, after the ringing "amen", amazed that the world appeared no different than before. For a minute or two, it had been a better place...'

5. You're Dead // Norma Tanega

Don't ever talk with your eyes Be sure that you compromise You're dead, you're dead, you're dead You're dead and out of this world

' "Why do you smoke? It's not very... vampire, really."

' "Well, I'm not supposed to be very vampire," said Maladict, lighting up with a shaking hand. "It's the sucking. I need it. I'm on edge. I'm getting the no-coffee jitters. [...]"

' "We've got plenty of tea--" Polly began.

' "You don't understand! This is about... craving. You never stop craving, you just switch it to something that doesn't cause people to turn you into a short kebab!" '

6. We Stand Alone // PigPen Theatre Co.

We stand alone with the bones of our father's breath Retching our souls with the stories of life and death Come pass away on the sinews of our strings But watch your weary eyes and protect thy dreams

'No one spoke at all. The thing was... the thing was, Polly realized, that they were no longer marching alone. They shared the Secret.'

OR

'... Er, your sleeping friend... will you leave her here?"

' "No," said the squad, as one woman. [...]

' "We stick together," said Polly. "We don't leave a man behind." '

7. Bigmouth Strikes Again // The Smiths

And now I know how Joan of Arc felt Now I know how Joan of Arc felt As the flames rose to her Roman nose And her hearing aids started to melt

'She didn't know much about what went on in [the School], but imagination rushed to fill the gap. And she wondered what happened to you in that hellish pressure cooker. [...] If you were Wazzer, dealt a poor hand to start with, and locked up, and starved, and beaten, and mistreated Nuggan-knew-how (and yes, Polly thought, Nuggan probably did know how), and pushed deeper and deeper into yourself, what would you find down there? And then you'd look up from those depths into the only smile you ever saw.'

8. Buzzard Song // Ella Fitzgerald

There's two folks livin' in this shelter Eatin', sleepin', singin', prayin', Ain't no such thing as loneliness And we are young again.

'Polly stared out at the bright, unchanging landscape, empty except for a buzzard making wide circles in the forbidden blue.

' "I'm not sure about that," she said. "But someone up there likes us." '

Additional Context: Buzzard Song is a piece of incidental recitative from the American folk opera Porgy and Bess. The native buzzards of Charleston are seen as an omen of misfortune and death by the residents of the fictional Catfish Row; when one circles at the midpoint of the opera, it is chased off by the triumphant Porgy, who believes he has finally found happiness.

Like many other pieces of music from Porgy and Bess, Buzzard Song came to separate acclaim following its orchestration by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. However, unlike other pieces from the opera, such as Summertime or I Got Plenty O' Nuttin', Buzzard Song never entered the jazz standard repertoire, due to this additional dependence on the text.

9. One Foot in Front of the Other // Emilie Autumn

I've been in chains since I was nothing but a kid We don't know freedom, not quite sure that we ever did Now that we have it, how will we make use of it? We've been committed, now to what do we all commit?

' "I don't want to end up in the School, though," said Betty aka Shufti. "They took away a girl from our village and she was kicking and screaming--"

' "Then fight them!" said Polly. "You've got a sword now, haven't you? Fight back!" '

OR

'Polly remembered what she'd said, hours ago, about fighting. You had to start somewhere.

' "I want to try the Keep again," she said. [...] I'm going to try it, Sarge!"

' "You are not!"

' "Try and stop me!" The words came out before she could stop them. And that's it, she thought, the shout heard round the world. No going back after this. I've run off the cliff and it's all downhill from here.'

10. The Trapper and the Furrier // Regina Spektor

What a strange, strange world we live in Where the good are damned, and the wicked forgiven What a strange, strange world we live in Those who don't have lose, those who got get given- More, more, more, more

'It was a terrible thing. Her mother had been a kind woman, or as kind as a devout woman could be while trying to keep up with the whims of Nuggan, and she'd died slowly and painfully, amid pictures of the Duchess and among the echoes of unanswered prayers...'

OR

' "Ever run across someone called Father Jupe?"

' "Oh, yes," said Polly, and, feeling that something more was expected of her, added, "He used to come to dinner when my mother--he used to come to dinner. A bit pompous, but he seemed okay."

' "Yes," said Tonker. "He was good at seeming."

'Once again there was a dark chasm in the conversation that not even a troll could bridge, and all you could do was draw back from the edge.'

OR

' "I feel sorry for the Borogravians," he said.

' "Me too, sir," said Angua. [...] "Their religion's gone bad on them. Three years ago it was abominable to grow root crops on ground which had grown grain or peas! [...] It means no real crop rotation, sir. The ground sours. Diseases build up. You were right when you said they were going mad. [...] I've had a look around. They're very religious here, but their god's let them down. No wonder they mostly pray to their royal family." '

11. Genesis 30:3 // The Mountain Goats

For several hours we lay there, last ones of our kind Harder days coming, maybe; I don't mind. ... I will do what you ask me to do Because of how I feel about you.

' "... Shall I tell you that Tilda was pregnant when they brought her back to the Gray House after the fire? She had it, and they took it away, and we don't know what happened to it. And then she got beaten again because she was an Abomination Unto Nuggan. Does that make you feel better?" said Tonker, tying the rope to a table leg. "There's just us, Polly. Just her and me. No inheritance, no nice home to go back to, no relatives that we know of. The Gray House breaks us all, somehow."

Additional Context: The Life of the World to Come is the 12th studio album of The Mountain Goats, and consists of twelve poems, each meditating on a single verse of the Jewish Tanakh or the Christian New Testament.

The text of Genesis 30:3 is as follows: 'And she said, Behold my maid Bilhah, go in unto her; and she shall bear upon my knees, that I may also have children by her.'

About the text, John Darnielle has said "...that story is the most beautiful love story I've ever heard in my life. [...] All the relationships in the Bible prior to that are working relationships, but there's people and love in this story." [Source]

12. The Goddess and the Weaver // Spiral Dance

Arachnia weaves, and she weaves so well She weaves a passage where the Gods will fly Athena laughs as she casts her spell While she watches from her loom on high

' "You must invade Borogravia! In the name of sanity, you must go home! [...] Fight Nuggan, because he is nothing now, nothing but the poisonous echo of all your ignorance and pettiness and malicious stupidity! Find yourself a worthier god. And let...me...go! [...]"

'As one woman, as one man, the crowd in the room reached up hesitantly to their left cheek. And Wazzer folded up, very gently, collapsing like a sigh.'

13. Jackaroe // Joan Baez

"I know my waist is slender, my fingers are neat and small But it would not make me tremble to see ten thousand fall" ... The war soon being over, they hunted all around And among the dead and dying, her darling boy she found.

' "Oh, we had great times, great times," said Jackrum, stopping for a moment to stare at nothing. "He never got promoted on account of his stutter, but I had a good shouty voice, and officers like that. But Willie never minded, not even when I made it to sergeant. And then he got killed at Sepple, right next to me."

' "I'm sorry."

' "You don't have to be, you didn't kill him," said Jackrum evenly. "But I stepped over his body and skewered the bugger that did. Wasn't his fault. Wasn't my fault. We were soldiers." '

14. The World Turned Upside Down // Chumbawamba

I dreamt all men were equal And there were no starving poor And nations never did quarrel Nor never went to war

'Kissing don't last. Oh, the Duchess had come alive before them and turned the world upside down for a spell and maybe they had all decided to be better people, and out of certain oblivion had come a space to breathe.

'And then...had it really happened? Even Polly sometimes wondered, and she had been there. Was it just a voice in their heads, some kind of hallucination? Weren't soldiers in desperate straits famous for seeing visions of gods and angels? [...]

'All we were given was a chance, thought Polly. No miracle, no rescue, no magic. Just a chance.'

15. The Times They Are A-Changin' // Bob Dylan

The line it is drawn, the curse it is cast The slowest now will later be fast As the present now will later be past The order is rapidly fadin' And the first one now will later be last 'Cause the times, they are a-changin'

'At which point, Polly decided that she knew enough of the truth to be going on with. The enemy wasn't men, or women, or the old, or even the dead. It was just bleedin' stupid people, who came in all varieties. And no one had the right to be stupid. [...]

'And the new day was a great big fish.'

[aithorin]

oh, baby, I am a wreck when I'm without you - Lady Dimitrescu x Reader - Part 2 (Eventual 18+)

Synopsis: As Lady Dimitrescu’s loyal personal maid, you have watched for years as others have come and gone from your Mistress’ bed, desperately wishing you could take their place. Yet despite your deep love for Lady Dimitrescu, she has never once looked at you that way. Years of repressed pain reach their breaking point when you accidentally walk in on one of your mistress’ trysts, for it is then that you finally accept that she will never truly see you. You confront her in hopes of stepping down as her personal maid but soon discover that Lady Dimitrescu won’t so easily let you go.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49435549/chapters/124759192

A/N: Part 2 of 3. Part 1 and Part 3 are here.

_______

One week later

Darkness clings to the air, threatening to swallow the flickering candlelight that guides you through the silent halls of Castle Dimitrescu. The night is still. Nevertheless, you shield the flame as you turn a corner, only to find you no longer need it. Light spills through a cracked door, extending into the hall like an outstretched hand. It beckons you forth, and like a moth drawn to a flame, you drift closer to peer through the crack.

At first glance, the room appears to be empty. A fire roars away in the hearth, illuminating walls lined with books. Adjacent, twin settees decorate the inner part of the room, separated by a low tea table. Everything is in its proper place, untouched. And yet, something feels off. It’s almost as though it’s too quiet.

Your eyes roam the scene granted by your limited vision, keen to silence the nagging voice in the back of your mind, but nothing stands out. A sigh of defeat escapes you. You’re about to give up, certain that a servant had simply forgotten this room on their nightly rounds, when, suddenly, from the very corner of your eye, you catch something that appears to be a… shoe? 

Curiosity rouses to life, and before you can stop yourself, your hand is reaching out, gently easing the door open. It swings back, the aged wood groaning in protest, unveiling exactly what you’d thought: a shoe. Your brows furrow in confusion. What was a lone shoe doing in the middle of the room? 

You lean forward, trying to get a closer look, only to discover it isn’t alone. It is the first of many items. A few feet behind it, you catch sight of the shoe’s matching pair, haphazardly tossed to the side. A stray set of stockings follow it, succeeded by a maid’s uniform. And are those- are those your mistress’ gloves? 

You swallow thickly, suddenly wishing you’d never opened the door. It’s obvious where the clothes come from, where they lead to , yet you can’t look away. Pandora’s box has been opened, and there is no going back. 

A choked, pleasure filled moan breaks the silence of the room, a final warning, but by then it’s too late. Your eyes fall upon them, breath hitching as your heart shatters. The maid from last week, Imogen, lays pressed against a wall of books completely naked, head thrown back in ecstasy with Lady Dimitrescu buried between legs. Imogen shudders, finding her release, and Lady Dimitrescu diverts her attention to the thin rivulets of blood oozing from a wound in Imogen’s neck. She licks along the length of Imogen’s body, following the trail before latching on at the source and drinking hungrily. 

“Imogen, dear, you taste utterly divine .” Your mistress groans in satisfaction, pulling back to reveal a mouth painted in red.

You stumble back in utter shock, the wind completely knocked out of you. This couldn’t- couldn’t be real, right? This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. The mistress was supposed to be yours . And yet, she wasn’t. You knew that, but still, you’d always hoped. For years, you’d sustained yourself on deluded daydreams, yearning for the day that your mistress would look at you and finally see you. 

But looking at them now, you realize hope is nothing but a fool’s dream. 

Tears burn at your eyes as you sink to the floor in utter agony. Why was it always someone else? There must be something painfully deficient with you. It was the only explanation. Why else would your lady continue to overlook you for others who were so pitifully average? 

And yet, it’s not like they were any better. Tendrils of anger begin to creep in, momentarily souring your insecurity, for if anyone was deserving of her, it was you . Imogen’s face leaps to the forefront of your mind, causing your mouth to twist in a sneer. What did a simple kitchen maid have that you didn’t? You were the one who came to Lady Dimitrescu’s beck and call. You were the one who dutifully carried out her every need. You were the one who fulfilled her every wish. Why wasn’t it enough?

You pause as a tiny voice whispers that no one, including yourself, could ever hope to be worthy of her, and your anger shatters beneath the crushing weight of your revived despair. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter how much better you were than them. You’d never truly be deserving of your mistress, regardless of how desperately you wished for it, for your lady was a goddess amongst men while you were nothing but a lowly mortal. 

But still, couldn’t she see how hard you tried? Hot tears spring anew as your heart clenches painfully in your chest. You choke on a sob, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. God, if only you were given a chance. So many others had squandered the gift of her love, but, oh, how you’d treasure it, knowing she’d bestowed it on such an unworthy individual. 

That chance was never going to come though. It was a truth you’d spent three years running from, but not anymore. You’d given all you had. There was nothing left. And as you gather yourself to your feet, piercing heartbreak dulls to throbbing numbness. 

You continue on into the night, leaving the couple as well as the fractured, mangled pieces of your dreams behind.

[firefly-ghoul]

WHAT HOBBIES I THINK THE GHOULS HAVE

This is my first time writing head-canons so be nice to me please! Anyway let’s get on with the hobbies!(if you see grammar errors no you don’t:3)

Aether

I think aether bakes but he takes it SO seriously. He has a journal of carefully curated recipes that he has spent YEARS perfecting. Aether has a special spot in his recipe journal for all the ghouls favorite type of cake and he makes them birthday cakes every year. Aethers favorite thing to bake is cookies. He makes big batches of cookies and gives them to his band mates on designated movie nights. He loves decorating cakes with the sisters of sin who work in the kitchen.

Sodo

Sodo dose glass work as a job and hobby. he helps make and maintain all of the stain glass around the ministry with a small group of sisters. He hand picked each sister both experienced and inexperienced with glass work. He teaches them everything he knows and enjoys helping them with learning curves and the difficult parts. He’s glass making studio is located directly underneath the abbey. But hobby wise sodo loves making glass sun catchers. Sodo also enjoys makes little glass figures and gives them to the siblings and older children. Since sodo is a fire ghoul when he works on glass he heats up his hands and is able to work without a blow torch. I personally headcanon he can breathe fire so he definitely uses that to help him.

Mountain

Mountain is soo obviously a plant dad but this man also does pottery! No one can tell me otherwise! His favorite things to make are cute pots for all his plants! He also makes vases for all the flowers he collects from the garden. He takes a day off every week and goes into to Forrest surrounding the ministry and forages for clay. He comes back completely covered in mud and grinning like a mad man. He makes everyone mugs for special occasions like birthdays and holidays. The thing he is most proud of is a pomegranate tea set that took him months to make. He very proudly drinks tea out of it every morning before heading out to work in the gardens

Phantom

PHANTOM IS A DND NERD! He and a group of siblings play dnd together every week. He plays as a vampire elf bard and is very proud of his character. He was very nervous when he first started playing dnd but the more he started playing the more confident he got with the siblings encouragement. He totally hasn’t almost tpk his party because he tried to fight a family of yetis by himself. (Totally not based on personal experiences) He loves dice! He is a dice goblin and has hundreds of dice. He is vary superstitious about his dice. His favorite set of dice are a set Swiss got him that are purple with bat on the 20.

rain

Rain obviously does water colors. Rains favorite thing to paint is landscapes he especially loves painting beaches. He also loves painting flowers. he sometimes going to the ministry gardens and painting all the flowers he sees. Rain like to take a day and hike to the middle of the woods and paints what he sees. He doesn’t paint people a lot but when he does he likes to have a live reference so he will ask some of the ghouls to pose for him. He likes when mountain model for him because he doesn’t move around like some (cough cough Aurora and Swiss cough) of the the ghouls. Rain gets very shy and blushes bright blue when anyone compliments is art.

Swiss

this kreecher (affectionately) explores abandon places and grave yards. He sometimes tries and finds cryptids (As if he isn’t one.) and ghosts. Swiss will bring ghost hunting equipment with him when he goes to places he’s already explored to spice things up. Swiss’s favorite tool is the spirit box. He finds the response’s form the ghost so funny. One time swiss took aurora with him to an abandoned hospital to hang out. He challenged aurora to stay in a room by herself for five minutes with the spirit box. She absolutely freaked when it started to talk to her (he didn’t tell her what it was meant for) and booked it back to where Swiss was. Aurora never never went ghost hunting again.

aurora

Speaking of aurora I think aurora embroiders. cirrus originality taught her simple things she aurora ran with it. Aurora has a lot of energy so she sometimes have a hard time focusing when something doesn’t grab her attention or when she doesn’t have anything to do with her fidgeting hands. So when she first started embroidering she was like “this something that takes my focus AND i have something to do with my hands…THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER!” She makes the most beautiful beaded plants. She will embroider a plant on every pare of pants she has. Also enjoys making embroidered patches for everyone. Makes all her friends pride flag patches.

Sunshine

My girl sunshine rollerblades! She has a pare of bright orange skates with light up wheels. She has gotten told of by sister imperator many times for rolling around the ministry to fast but she never listen. She sets a day off every week to put wd40 on her wheel bearings. She is very serious about taking care of her skates she treats them like they’re her babies. She knows so many tricks and definitely will teaches anyone who asks her how to skate and do tricks. Her favorite trick is skating backwards because is makes sister imperator nervous that she’s gonna bump into someone or something.

Cumulus

Cumulus loves puzzles so much. She challenges her self to start a new puzzle every month. her favorite types of puzzles are ones that have cute animals on them. Her comfort puzzle is a 900 piece puzzle with all kinds of kittens on them. She hosts a puzzle night in the library that everyone is invited to. She brings a 1000 piece puzzle and some snacks and she and everyone there works on the puzzle together. One time for her birthday all the ghouls got together and each got her a puzzle. She cried happy tears because she felt so loved. When she finished all of those puzzles she mogpoged framed them and hung them on her walls. they make her smile every time she sees them.

Cirrus

I think cirrus does photograph. She enjoys more dark and macabre themes so she often goes to the gave yards to take pictures. Cirrus joins Swiss on his explorations to capture the dark beauty of abandoned places. On the rare occasion she will photograph people but cirrus prefers taking pictures of places rather than people. One of her favorite things to photograph is the stained glass windows all over the ministry. Gets up before sunrise to get the best photos of the morning light shining through the glass.

[likeastars]

Uuuuuggghhhh fuck it. Idk if I'll ever have the strength to work on this beast again, so you get a wip!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a small cottage, sitting comfortably in a clearing of the forest, not drawn nor doodled in any corner of any map, a cutout from a postcard hastily scrapped in the middle of the grass. A quick glance at the roof reveals it has been repaired its fair number of times, while a touch on the door handle tells that the rust on the lock is newer than the one scratching the pommel. The walls are obviously old, their wood is inconsistent in both size and type, and they breathe out heavy, weighed down by the many coats of colour. The last one changes halfway through, as if it was suddenly done by somebody else.

It’s not a convenient house, and it has no way of being comfortable for humans. But someone cared.

And that’s Kaisa’s main reason for knocking.

It’s a quiet rasp more than a knock. She waits, and a bit of fear bubbles up that she wasn’t heard; she doesn’t feel like she has the strength to raise her hand anymore. She hopes the soft tap of her head against the wood of the door will be louder.

It is.

They start. Faint, gentle, light steps, they arrive at the entryway and then stop, hesitant and weirdly silent. She can only hear one pair of feet, one puff of breath, and there’s no hushed conversation on the way to the door, only this looming quiet. They are alone.

It would be stupid to open the door then, the witch thinks. Then she adds: please.

And the lock clicks.

There's a person on the door now, arms tightly wound around her body and diffident eyes. Tense.

Also... interrupted, apparently.

Her hair falls short on her shoulder, held back from reaching her eyes by a colorful head band, while some rebel tufts stage their coup against the oppressor. A well-loved apron loosely covers some battered jeans and a ratty plaid shirt, full of dry smears of paint and mud, cracking and peeling at every movement. Heavily wrinkled too, as if they've been under it for a while, but the woman stays surprisingly clean. Her hands hands give no hints of any work getting done. Hands that look like they’re on their way to become rough and worn out like the rest of the house, but now they’re just empty, picked on. Maybe they come from a painting session that didn’t go well. Maybe they haven’t been going well for a while.

Their eyes meet in a curious study and a cautious glance, when the other woman's gaze suddenly drops to the glint in her pocket. Where her wand is safely tucked in.

When she freezes up this time, the only thing Kaisa can see is the uneasiness seeping under her skin.

“can I help you?”

Crap.

Can they help her? Probably not.

She really just saw the house and knocked. That’s it. That’s literally all it was.

She didn’t need any help. This person clearly prefers it this way. She should turn around and walk back into the woods and- and...

A brush of wind runs cold against her fingertips. It has been cold for a while.

“may I come in?” the witch asks, torturing a stray thread from her coat. “it- it really wouldn’t be for long. I’ve been out in the forest for… for a bit, i guess. A long bit. And I-“

A long sigh interrupts her. “fine.”

They stare at each other a bit longer than normal. They both look surprised.

That would be even stupider than opening the door.

“are you sure?” the stranger only replies with a raised brow.

"Come on." she puffs out, it's a tired little thing. They turn around, and Kaisa follows.

---

Leading her guest in, Johanna doesn't let herself think. Her body drags her off to the kitchen to put on some tea, the motions of rummaging through the cabinets for the last box of chamomile automatic, but slow, and familiar. She prepares the leaves and lingers, just a bit, on the bright new kettle they'd bought while renovating the house, before searching for the crooked flowery one she'd brought from Tofoten. It brings up stuff that's easier to ignore, and it takes ages to scald the tea.

Johanna then leans on the counter, waiting, trying to listen to any weird noise that might come from the other room.

A witch.

She remembers when they came to the old house the day of the incident. With the full moon on their shoulders the lines of their capes were painted with silver light, and they looked transparent, untouchable. Like ghosts. They perched on her doorstep speaking in hushed tones to her aunt, and they haunted the village until every neighbour who wondered about the blinding light in the forest forgot about it the day after.

The kettle whistles, startling her.

This one isn't a ghost. Johanna carefully sits the tea on a trail and breaths in, slowly.

She looked really cold.

Getting back to the living room still takes her longer than she'd like to admit, but her guest doesn't seem to notice. She's attentive, and focused, trying to gobble up everything she can put her eyes on. She moves slowly around the room, as if she's afraid of making any kind of noise, a skittish cat sniffing an unfamiliar environment. Then the witch's gaze shifts to one of aunt Astrid little trinkets, and Johanna comes back to herself.

She knocks on the wood of her library maybe harder than she means to, getting the other woman's attention.

Their eyes meet. They should sit down.

The normalcy and the easiness of the tea in her hand is what finally gets Johanna to unclench her jaw.

The cup sits between her fingers as a comfort more than anything, and as she drops her usual little sugar in her drink, she actually lets herself glance at her guest. She looks lost in thought. She keeps abusing a strand of her coat (which a good host would have already taken off of her) that escaped the knot of a button, with her eyes far away from the cup she's been staring at. They curve downwards, those eyes, curling up every time her round nose gets scrunched at the bitterness of the tea. She goes for her third spoonful of sugar in such a careful way that it looks practiced, and Johanna's fingers itch for her sketchbook like they haven't for months.

"thank you." the witch mutters, nuzzling in the warmth of her cup, ripping one last sigh out of Johanna.

[ikeromantic]

Jealousy Becomes Him

A Keiji Maeda story featuring OC Tomoyo, written as a (belated) Valentine's gift for @scruffymctee - in this spicy story Keiji has a bout of severe jelly-boy syndrome which resolves in the best (and spiciest) way possible. Approx. 2700 words.

Keiji wasn’tgoing to be caught by surprise this year. No sir. Last year Tomoyo had popped up with a box of handmade candies and a little painted card with a poem on it. And he’d been empty handed. Caught flat-footed by this ‘Valentine’ holiday. Not this time! This time, he had it all planned out. 

Flowers, dinner, a special box of sweets and a new kind of tea . . . it would be perfect. As he left the tea shop, he caught sight of his princess a few stalls down. Tomoyo looked beautiful today. Her dark hair was caught up in a bun held with a jade comb that complimented her eyes and the brightly colored kimono she wore. 

She hadn’t noticed him yet. She was leaning over a display, her focus intense. Keiji had it in mind to sneak up on her but just as he began to approach, someone stepped beside her and took her arm. Not just any someone. Tokugawa. 

Tomoyo smiled up at Ieyasu and gestured for him to look as well. The two of them stood at the display for a few breaths and then Ieyasu said something that Kaiji could not hear. Tomoyo laughed and patted his arm. Then they walked on together.

Keiji felt a sick burning in his gut. A thick, bitter bile of jealousy. He could not imagine why his princess was out with that fluffy-headed sourpuss. Leaning on his arm. Laughing with him. Part of Keiji yearned to march over there and grab Ieyasu. Challenge him. But he knew his beloved Tomoyo would not appreciate that kind of machismo.

She was a woman with her own mind and she did not appreciate anyone making choices for her. 

The smart thing to do would be to leave. And then talk with Tomoyo later. But Keiji wasn’t feeling smart right now. So he grabbed a straw hat and a plain haori from a clothing stall and slouched along behind them, following close enough to catch some of their conversation but far enough to be hard to notice.

“What about these?” Tomoyo gestured at something spread on the vendor’s table in front of her. Some sort of cloth? Keiji strained to make it out, but he was at a bad angle.

“It would look good on you.” Ieyasu reached forward, touching whatever it was. 

“You think so?” She laughed. “I don’t think it’s my color.”

Ieyasu’s cheeks flushed. “Every color is your color.”

Tomoyo smiled widely. “That’s nice of you to say.” She glanced again at whatever it was and then tugged Ieyasu on.

Keiji stopped at the vendor table as they moved on. He squinted at the vendor. “What was that lady pointing at?”

“This, my lord.” He gestured at an inrō on his table. The wallet was worked silver and wood, shaped like some fantastic bird. The ojimi that fastened it was coral and carved to look like a flower. The bright salmon color of the flower-carved bead drew the eye and the workmanship on it was perfect. 

“How much?” 

After a brief few moments of haggling, Keiji purchased the wallet she liked and then scanned the market to locate them again. He noticed they were at a shop with a bunch of little accessories. Odds and ends, really. Clasps and ties, decorative beads, combs and pins for hair. 

Ieyasu was bent down over the blanket, pointing out a few items. Tomoyo’s brow was creased in thought as she looked them over. 

Keiji thought they were looking at some clothing pins with red agate beading and a carved and inlaid tsuba for a small sword. Was Ieyasu trying to buy her gifts today? He scowled. Of course Tomoyo deserved every good thing but . . . he wanted to be the one to give it to her. The one to see her smile of surprise and pleasure. 

After a little discussion, the two of them moved away from the accessories stall and headed toward a nearby tea house. Keiji quickly sped over and purchased the red agate pins. They were very nice, he thought. The sort of thing he might wear with his brightly colored haori. 

It was a little harder to stalk them at the teahouse. If he sat close enough to hear their conversation, Tomoyo might notice him. He settled for a spot where he could see them clearly, but he was too far away to make out their conversation. This made his afternoon so much worse. 

Tomoyo and Ieyasu sat there drinking tea and ordering sweets for hours. Talking, laughing . . . Ieyasu even smiled once. And Keiji could not hear a word that was said. For all he knew, his lady love was pledging her heart to that - that dandelion headed, sour faced infant. It was only his years of acting and work as a spy that allowed him to stay seated and simply watch. 

Under his annoyance and jealousy lurked fear and hurt. He loved Tomoyo more than life. She was smart and pretty, stubborn and idealistic. A woman he thought of as a partner and friend, one that held his heart. And he’d thought he held hers. Dark thoughts trickled through his mind as he sat there, stewing. 

Ieyasu had money and titles. Keiji had nothing. Could he really blame Tomoyo for choosing more wisely? His emotions ran a wild track through his heart. He was so caught up in them that he almost didn’t notice when Tomoyo took a box from the tea shop owner and left with Ieyasu in tow.

Keiji pulled himself together enough to ask after what she bought. A box of bean paste dumplings, apparently. The dango she asked for were not one of her favorite foods, Keiji knew. He wondered darkly if they were Ieyasu’s favorites. He left the teashop in a funk, still trailing after his lady love.

It seemed her day out with Ieyasu was drawing to a close. They went to Ieyasu’s manor. Still chatting and talking as they went in and the door closed behind them. Across from the manor, in a narrow alley, Keiji stared at the closed door. His heart was pounding with jealous passion but he wasn’t sure what he ought to do.

He couldn’t just charge in. Such disrespect to an Oda alliance member, one with higher standing than him, would be disastrous. Keiji took a deep breath, steadying himself. It wouldn’t be that hard to sneak into the manor. He could figure out what room they were in and then listen from a window or even slip into the ceiling to spy from above. 

The job turned out even easier than he expected. Ieyasu’s office was on the first floor, with a wide garden window. And that was where the two of them were. He was somewhat relieved to note it was not where Ieyasu slept. And there was no futon or cushioned couch for them to - to - he cut that thought off before it finished. From where he crouched, he couldn’t see them very well, but he could hear everything.

Tomoyo was giggling, while Ieyasu’s low voice scolded her. 

“You really don’t take care of yourself,” the blonde griped.

“I do too!”

“Then why ask me about this? Didn’t you promise me -”

“I know, I know.” Tomoyo wasn’t giggling now. She sighed. “Look, I meant to but I got busy.”

“Busy like we were today?” Ieyasu’s voice was sharp and bitter. 

Keiji wasn’t sure what they were talking about. What was this and why was Ieyasu so sour right now?

“Maybe? Don’t be so grouchy about it. There’s nothing wrong with spending the day shopping. Surely you had just a little fun?”

 “Fine. Yes. Now don’t look at me like that. Just . . . undo your obi. Let’s get this over with.” Ieyasu sighed heavily.

There was a rustling of cloth and Tomoyo’s voice, breathless. “Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me yet. Just hold still. I’ll be quick so pay attention.”

Tomoyo gasped and Keiji’s heart sank even lower. “That’s so cold! Why is it always cold?”

“I could hold it in my hands to warm it up first,” Ieyasu grumbled. 

Keiji strained to peek over the window sill. He had to see what was happening, but if he could see them, they would be able to see him. He just couldn’t manage. All he could do was listen.

“That would be nice of you.”

“Here. You warm it up then.”

More sounds of cloth rustling, wood creaking. Then another breathy gasp. “Ah! Much better when it’s warmer.”

“Whatever. Just stop wriggling.” 

Tomoyo tsked. “I wasn’t wriggling! Anyway, thank you for this. It helps a lot.”

“Good.” Ieyasu paused. “You know . . . I really did enjoy today. With you.”

“I had fun too.” 

Another sigh, this one just as heavy as the last. “We could have more days. Like this. The two of us.”

Tomoyo laughed softly. “Of course we can. We’re friends, right? We can hang out whenever you like.” 

“Friends.” The way Ieyasu said it made it a barb. 

“Yes. Friends. I care about you, Ieyasu. Very much. You are dear to me and I like spending time with you.” Tomoyo’s words next were faint, barely audible from where Keiji was eavesdropping. “You’re very sweet and for the right girl . . . Oh Ieyasu . . . you are going to make her so happy.” 

Ieyasu took a short, pained breath. “I - I need to check on something.”

Keiji wanted to climb through the window and lift Tomoyo up and kiss her breathless. But he thought she might be a tad angry that he’d been spying on her. He slipped away, almost humming with happiness. 

He felt giddy, almost as if he was drunk from hearing her confession. Silly for ever having doubted her. Foolish for being jealous of poor Ieyasu. And lucky. Damn lucky. A man like him did not deserve a woman like her, but she’d picked him anyway.

Tomoyo came home a little while later, looking pleased if tired. The moment she came through the castle gate, Keiji was on her. His big hands wrapped around her waist and he spun her in the air, before pulling her close for a hug. 

She gave a squeal of surprise and then her arms were around his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair. She loved to tug it loose from his bun. 

He kissed her, unrestrained and passionate. Her lips were soft as satin, playfully yielding to his hunger. Her teasing tongue pushed into his mouth. Keiji growled low in his throat, suddenly feeling more than just glad to see her. His hands slid slower, caressing her firm rear and the backs of her thighs. 

Tomoyo broke the kiss with a gasp. “Keiji! What if someone sees us?”

“Then someone sees.” He kissed her again, delighted with the way her body responded to his touch. Eager, despite her protest. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her hands clutched at his shoulders. “Let’s take this to our room,” he said hoarsely, not entirely sure he could make it but certain he would die from wanting her if he didn’t.

She laughed, high and sweet and breathless. “What did I do to deserve such a welcome home?”

“You don’t need to do anything. I just love you.” 

Tomoyo’s cheeks heated and she looked away, as if she could pretend to be demure when her thighs were gripping his hips as they were now. 

“No need to be bashful, princess.” He nuzzled the sensitive spot on her neck, just below her left ear. 

Keiji shut the door behind them with his foot, his hands were entirely too full of Tomoyo and there was no way he was letting her down. Not yet. He used his mouth to start untying her kimono, which made her laugh again. 

“Are you so eager? You know this would be faster if you put me down?”

“Who says I want it to be faster?” He grinned. Then with sensual slowness, he tugged the tie loose and began placing kisses along her now-exposed collarbone. There was a smell there, something new. It was sharper than her usual perfume, and something about it reminded him of summer. He pressed his face closer, and used his tongue to taste her skin. 

Tomoyo giggled. “What - what are you doing?”

“Mmmm trying out this new . . . flavor . . .” It was an oil, he decided. Something herbal. He traced the light application of it across her collarbone and flipped her around to kiss down the expanse of her back. 

“K-Keiji! Th-that’s my lotion!” She wriggled deliciously in his arms. 

He pressed close against her and nipped the lobe of her ear. “Tastes pretty good.”

She made a little pleased gasp of pleasure as he began to massage her shoulders and back with his large, calloused hands. Her kimono fell to her waist. “O-oh, that’s . . . mmmm . . . yes . . .” 

He could see now where Ieyasu had applied this new ointment. “What is it for, princess?”

“Hm? What?” She blinked at him over her shoulder, lost in the feel of his hands on her. 

“The lotion.”

Tomoyo smiled. “Supposed to help. With. The stiffness. From . . . spear . . . training.” 

“You know, I could probably help you apply it. If you need some help to put it on your back.” He used his thumbs to gently work out the tension along her spine.

“Y-yeah. Ok.” She took a shivering breath as his hands moved to her lower back. Her hips were pushed back against his and all Keiji could think about was how much better this would be if both of them lost the rest of their clothes. She must have been thinking the same, because she undid her obi and the ties on her hakama, letting everything puddle to the floor at her feet. 

It wasn’t the first time Keiji saw her naked. Nor the fifth or even the fifteenth. But every time he found himself in awe. She was gorgeous. The round swell of her hip, the little dimple on her right ass cheek, the turn of her thigh and calf . . . he wanted to kiss every bit. Caress and hold her. He ran a finger lightly down her side. “You’re beautiful.”

He could not keep his voice from cracking on the compliment. The raw passion he felt for her was more than a simple word could encompass. Keiji wanted to love her and to make love to her, to drown himself in everything that was her until Tomoyo was all he could taste and touch and see. 

“When you look at me like that, I feel like I must be,” she said softly. 

“I’ll have to do a better job of letting you know.” He placed a kiss on her low back and let his lips trail down lower. “If you only feel like that now . . . I must not show you enough.” Keiji gently turned her back over. His lips brushed the line of her pelvic bone. 

She arched into his touch, her breathing thready and rapid. “Sh-show? Me?”

He wasn’t sure if it was a question or a request. To be fair though, he didn’t care. He wanted her so badly now that he almost shook with the need. Like an addict in sight of his fix, the answer in his grasp. At the tip of his tongue, both literally and figuratively. 

Keiji forced himself to go slow. To savor the feel of her heat against his mouth, the satin of her thighs trapping his head between them. Holding him in place, her heels pushing him in and urging him on as if her throaty cries were not enough encouragement. His world shrunk to the music of her pleasure, his own heartbeat, the slick sweet taste of her. 

Like music or poetry, there was a rhythm to this. An art. To read the instrument and audience of one, to know when and how to quicken the pace or slow it down. And when he’d teased enough. 

Her legs tensed and her heels dug hard into his back. Tomoyo’s hips rocked forward, until he could not breathe for being bound in her. Not that he minded - this was how a man could die happy - besides which, the tension lasted only a moment before she found release. His name on her lips, her body quaking with pleasure. 

Keiji could not suppress smug satisfaction at her undoing. “I hope that wasn’t too much, princess. Because I have a whole night planned.” 

“Not . . . even . . . close,” she breathed. “It’s my turn next.”

[babychoko]

𝔸 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥

Part 16

Hi everyone, I can hardly believe that after almost a year I'm actually posting something again😳. So as not to throw you all in at the deep end, this chapter will be about togetherness. I'm not going to drop a bomb after a hiatus. So, no worries^^ and I am very sorry.

“And when are you actually moving out?" My neighbor, who lives right below me, asked me with a worried look. I only saw her in the stairwell from time to time. Nevertheless, we somehow had a good bond.

"Still this year. I actually wanted to move out straight after graduation. But we're bringing that forward a bit." I replied to her question.

"With the nice little young man?" She asked delightedly and laughed. "Oh, two people can't bear to live so far away from each other!" Embarrassed, I just smiled. Because what she said was true.

"I'll be very sad when you're no longer my neighbor. Not everyone your age is so calm. That makes you very worried about new neighbors." She sighed and held her granddaughter's hand tightly. The little girl looked very bored. She must have found a conversation between two adults very boring. That's how I felt back then too. I waited for ages until my mother had finished chatting to neighbors or friends in the store. I would have loved to lie down on the floor.

"I hope you get very nice new neighbors." I wished her.

"Oh dear, what am I going to do without you? Well, have a nice day. Say hello to him for me, will you? I'll miss him."

"I will."

He hadn't realized until today that he had quickly become the darling of my neighbourhood.

I carried the small box that I had fetched from my apartment outside with me. There were tubes of acrylic paint. I was planning to use them today. But not to paint any paintings. I wanted to embellish some furniture and white candles with motifs.

Flowers, birds..

But no cats. Venti swore to me that even the sight of cats would give him a sneezing fit. Besides, there were a hundred other things that could be painted. He even offered to recite the hundred things to me. Luckily for him, I had no intention of painting cats on dressers. I was thinking more of plants.

My bus arrived at the minute and I got on. I used the bus ride to get some rest after my work. There hasn't been much going on recently, but just being at work makes you feel tired. Yesterday I also arrived home late because my work colleagues invited me for dinner. It was still draining on some level to be somewhere that wasn't my home. I checked my cell phone after a few minutes. It still took me a long time to get to Venti, of course.

The thought of him made me think of my last encounter in a dream, but I didn't mention it to him until today and kept it to myself.

Maybe I should talk to him about it today and be honest with him. Because I can't lie to myself anymore, I've been clueless since last year.

That's true... I had been aware for a long time that there was much more to his past. But there was a problem.

When I think about it, I get headaches and dizziness. It hasn't gone away yet. I'd better find a tactic to communicate with him about it.

After the long bus ride, I walked along the small wooded area to his house. The trees were no longer bare, but very green - full of leaves. It looked very peaceful when a few rays of sunlight peeked through the gaps. The small daisies also embellished the pebbled path.

I rang the bell once before opening the door. And before I opened the door all the way, Venti fell in my arms. I almost dropped the little box of acrylic paints on the floor.

"Why didn't you call me! I could have picked you up!"

"I can stand it on a bus. Besides, you're not my chauffeur." I countered as I took off my boots and put the box in the living room.

"Buhh...! I'm so bored!"

After resting for a while with a cup of tea, we started putting the pea-sized acrylic paints on a pallet and placing old newspapers under the chest of drawers. This allows the floor to be unharmed by the paint. If we're going to use paint, then let's do it properly. Even our shirts were ones that we no longer wore and were allowed to get dirty.

I tied my hair up and only now realized how much longer it had become compared to then. Venti smiled at me. "It suits you!"

"Do you think so?"

"Mhm!" Maybe I should let them grow a little longer?

As soon as I grabbed a small brush and dipped them in the green paint a little, I started on the motifs. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary that I painted on the brown wood. It was just herbs or garlands. When I looked over at him, I saw him painting a little white bird. It was holding a clover leaf in its beak. I thought the bird looked cute.

We spent the rest of the evening decorating more furniture with little patterns and then some candles with flower patterns. When we got bored - I mean, when HE got bored, Venti attacked me with paint. It started small and innocent with a few little strokes on my cheeks, hands or shirt. Then with much larger spots and at some point the fun stopped before we should have washed ourselves off completely.

As a peace offering, Venti drew a little heart on my cheek. Judging by the look on my face, this was apparently not enough. So he lifted my chin and pressed a kiss to the heart he had drawn. Now he had a red mark on his lips. With a slight grin, I wiped his lips with my thumb. Of course, the stain didn't go away.

"What stupid ideas you come up with sometimes..." I sighed and looked at us in the mirror. "We should go to the bathroom."

Fortunately, the acrylic paint came off very easily and we walked out of the bathroom clean. I'm sure there's no more paint on us. I hope so.

As it got darker, the clouds gathered a little. I looked at the ceiling as I lay on the sofa. All the lighting in the living room was a certain shade of blue. It fell more on the darker, more grayish area. Then I looked at the window. What did they call it again?

When the sun went down, there was the golden hour... so is it the blue hour now?

Anyway, it looked very... calming. A touch of mystery. Especially because the branches of the trees were no longer green and brown, but looked more like a silhouette.

I turned onto my side and my gaze fell on Venti's naked back. He hadn't moved for a few minutes and was lying quietly on the sofa. Fortunately, this sofa could be converted into a bed, which I had only recently learned. He wasn't aware of this either.

I watched quietly as he breathed in and out softly. Then I stroked his back with my index finger. This caused him to contract his body. He murmured slightly.

"Mhm..."

"Venti, are you asleep already...?" I whispered in wonder. He answered me by shaking his head slowly.

As the window was open and the cool evening air was fresh, I moved over to him and put my arms around him. He seemed to have noticed.

"(Name), are you cold?"

"Yes... but only a little." I replied meekly. Venti turned around and pulled the woolen blanket up to my waist. Then, with a tired smile, he put his arms around my upper body.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... of course you're cold when you're lying there without a blanket - better?"

I nodded. "True enough. You're sweet."

I played a little with the strands of his hair, some of which came undone as a result. Venti said nothing and closed his eyes, reassured.

"You are tired, aren't you?" I realized and stroked a strand of his hair behind his ear.

"I've used up my stamina, that's why." He replied with amusement, which then silenced me. Instead, I then placed my hand on this large turquoise mark that was between his chest. He opened his eyes and turned onto his back. I then lay over him with my upper body. The ends of my hair fell on his face.

I continued to inspect that turquoise mark he was born with. "I think it's beautiful." I whispered honestly. Venti smiled and closed his eyes as I placed a kiss right on the center. As I looked at him again, I wondered how long I would get to experience this sight of him. It was the way he always beamed at me or looked at me calmly, the way his hair fell in his face and his eyes lit up. A tinge of sadness flooded over me briefly. Venti noticed it.

"(Name)..." I took the coming words out of his mouth by pressing my lips to his. He placed his hands on my upper arms and we slowly changed positions. Now he looked down at me from above.

"What were you thinking about just now? You just looked unhappy." He asked me. I shook my head.

"Don't you want to talk about it?"

I wanted to, but I couldn't. How could I tell him that sometimes I felt like I wasn't going to see this sight forever?

"You can just tell me." He encouraged me. "Yes?"

I exhaled slightly. All right then.

"Are you planning... to stay with me forever?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know... but I want you to stay with me." I said, looking at him in a slight blur. Venti wiped his thumbs across my eyes.

"I want it too." He whispered, resting his forehead on mine.

Sometimes I wished moments like this would never end and I wanted to make the best of it. It hadn't been long since I'd even gotten intimate with him. Somehow it worries me what it will be like when we live together. This boy has the energy of a kindergarten child.

But at least I don't live alone anymore.

For this reason, I was grateful for every nice experience and wrote them down in a notebook. I hoped so much that I hadn't forgotten my notebook at home.

So where did I put the notebook?

"Mhmpf...!"

Venti rolled back on his back away from me, giggling.

"What was that about..." I grumbled and looked at him in confusion. Just then, he squeezed my cheeks tightly and pressed a kiss to my lips, leaving me breathless for a few seconds.

"You looked too peaceful. I had to help you out."

"Weren't you the one who didn't have any strength?" I asked.

"Yup, had!" He sat up once and stretched. Then he got up from the sofa and walked out of the living room.

"Don't you want to wear anything? You'll catch a cold." I remarked.

Venti just looked into the living room with his head. His big eyes glittered at me.

"Want a shower... you can come with me." He smiled innocently.

..

When I flung a pillow at him, he dodged it, giggling, and left.

"You can take a shower yourself. I know damn well how this is going to end. I'll go in after you."

"You meanie...~" I heard his voice from the hallway. I turned back on my heels and scrolled a bit on my phone. Seeing how much I missed on the internet, it actually meant I spent a lot less on my smartphone.

Internet dramas, discussions that went on for hours in comments.

No. I will never want to waste my free time like that. I actually only used the internet for inspiration, for university or to watch some stupid videos. Lately, more for university.

I then put my phone aside and sat up.

Maybe Venti really did feel lonely in the shower? But if I get into the shower with him now...

After a few scenarios from him, I had to sigh slightly. What a clingy boy. Oh well. You should enjoy any time you have, right?

I grabbed a shirt and pulled it over me and immediately took the other clothes with me before making the short walk to the bathroom. A little steam was already billowing out of the bathroom and I could hear Venti humming softly to herself. I leaned against the door with a smile and listened to him for a little while. He had the voice of an angel and harmonized every note of a song.

After a few seconds, he sang so quietly until there was nothing left to hear.

"Eheheh, do you want to keep peeping or come in?" Ahah, gotcha. I peeked my head in.

"I'm not peeping... I figured you might be feeling lonely or something. But it looks like you're fine."

Venti shook his head. "I don't feel lonely. But I'd feel better if you could be with me. We haven't bathed together for a long time, (Name)."

"Well, I'll come in then." Actually, I didn't mind at all. I left the door open a crack, threw our laundry into the laundry basket and took a hair crab from a small basket by the sink to put my hair up. I kept telling myself I would have to cut my hair again. But somehow it never happened... I was already enjoying wearing new hairstyles. Even if it was more work.

When I was about to take off my shirt, which I had on effortlessly, I could still feel Venti's eyes on me, even though I had my back to him. I undressed very slowly and still had the shirt practically in front of my front body, almost acting as a curtain.

"You're staring..." I mumbled, a little embarrassed.

Venti, who was now leaning against the edge of the bathtub with his upper body, giggled amusedly. "I think you have a very nice body." This comment made me wonder what he found so beautiful about my body anyway. I was never really satisfied myself. Was it my legs? Maybe my shoulders? I knew so many ideals of beauty that made me wonder.

"What do you find so beautiful about me?" I asked curiously, yet with uncertainty. I then put the shirt in the laundry basket and fixed my hair in front of the oval mirror that hung on the wall above the sink. Next to each mirror was a lamp on the side that glowed a warm orange. The whole bathroom was dimly lit, but you could still see everything clearly. I looked at myself in the mirror and had a self-image up to my décolleté. I could still see Venti in the background, looking up at the ceiling and thinking.

Ah, so he must be thinking?

"Hm, since you ask... what I like is that I feel secure when I'm near you."

I looked over my shoulder at him in amazement. Oh... so that's one way Venti perceives bodies? Like how it makes him feel? Normally you hear that your partner likes your thighs or prefers your hips... but something like that? That's the first time I've heard that.

"I'm not lying when I say I'm attracted to you. The way you look at yourself now, unclothed in front of the mirror, with this lighting - it reminds me of a portrait. If I were a painter, I would have fetched my materials quickly!"

Oh... I could clearly feel my cheeks warming up. I think that's one of the nicest compliments I've ever received.

"So don't get shy and turn around." He said normally.

"Now that you mention it, it's even harder... best look away when I get in the bath, okay?" I hid slightly with my arms around my bust. Venti giggled and leaned back.

"Well good! But it's not like I've never seen you without clothes..like now."

"T-That's different!"

"And you me! You've seen it a lot, haven't you?" He looked at me with a sideeye, amused.

"You mean... uh, yes. A lot, actually." I sighed and got into the tub. The water was still nice and warm, very pleasant. It was like being enveloped in a warm hug and never wanting to take it off. It may still be spring, but it's certainly not going to be very pleasant in summer.

"How's your driving lessons going?"

"It's all going well so far. I'm still worried about the practical part of the test." I confessed and leaned against his shoulder. He smelled good.

"Mhm, I've also heard that it's supposed to be more difficult than back then." The way he spoke, he sounded like an older man. But if my assumption was correct... then I wasn't surprised.

"Back then... when did you actually get your driver's license, Venti?"

"Let me think for a second... five years ago? Huh- why are you looking at me like that?"

Over the next few days, we continued to take care of my move to his place. We replaced furniture or improved it. Fortunately, I hadn't had very much in my old apartment. I can still live there because my tenancy agreement is still valid. It's not easy to move out of an apartment, but if the move to the new surroundings is nice, then it's certainly much easier to settle in. I have to admit that I'm already excited about living with him. But first we had to get through the stress of moving.

Heavy furniture such as my bed, closet and anything else that doesn't fit in his car will be brought here by a transport company in the near future. As soon as I get my driver's license, the journey into town won't be any more complicated. Everything seems to be well planned so far. A little too perfect to be true. It almost worries me when I tell him about my 'dream'. I didn't want to ruin anything. But many questions were running through my mind.

Would I really ruin everything if I confronted him? But knowing Venti, he would never get angry. I never saw him angry either. He was a person who could filter out a lot.

But a person as resilient as Venti must have experienced a lot of grief.

He never voluntarily talked about his family or mentioned his childhood. All I knew was how he got back on his feet a few years ago.

What actually pushed him into alcohol abuse? From someone who liked to live like a nomad and let his future fall on him unplanned, who could now pull it together?

I copied this train of thought from my mother. Sure, we had our arguments back then, but .

...when she asked me if Venti had a difficult past without really knowing anything about him, I didn't doubt her knowledge of human nature.

My mother liked to write novels all her life, which she never published. She preferred to stick to correcting other works to keep us afloat. In her spare time, she translated children's books into Braille, providing opportunities for children with disabilities. Out of my father's love, she learned the language. I still respect her for that.

And for these reasons, I'm sure I wouldn't be wrong if I asked Venti about it. A feeling tells me that I should do it as soon as possible.

One afternoon, I approached him as he was watering some herb plants on the windowsill in the kitchen. He didn't take his eyes off them.

"Are you taking a break from your thesis? How is it going? I might be able to help you."

"All good, thanks. I thought I'd give my eyes a rest for a few minutes." I went to the fridge and took out a carafe of homemade iced tea. I immediately took two glasses. It was only natural for me to pour a glass for him too.

"How sweet of you!"

"Mmm..."

I then put the carafe back in the fridge.

"Venti... have you ever had a twin?"

He jerked in surprise and let out a confused sound. Then he looked at me, frozen. Oops.

"Twin, you say? May I ask how you came up with that?"

I picked up the glass, but I didn't take a sip. I was a little too nervous for that. This question must have really surprised him.

"I had a dream not long ago about someone who looked exactly like you. He was just there."

"That's funny...I'm an only child." He scratched the back of his head, perplexed. "Nothing else was there?"

Before I could tell him anything, my mind seemed completely blank.

"(Name)?"

"No. Nothing at all." I whispered, holding my forehead. "I think I just saw you in my dream..." That headache again.

"Oh... I see." Venti then walked up to me and held a hand on my shoulder comfortingly. "Maybe you'll remember it later and you could tell me more about it."

"Yeah... maybe." If only I didn't have this block. If only I could figure out a way to-

..

Weird. Wasn't there something I wanted to ask him? I grabbed the iced tea and sat back down to work on my thesis. And even though I tried my best, I couldn't shake this restless thought. He seemed to have noticed it himself, because I couldn't find peace to sleep at night. No matter how often I changed my sleeping position. It wasn't too dark in the room. The curtains were closed and a night light gave us a little illumination, but not so much that it was disturbing. I then sat up to turn my pillow over to the cool side.

"Are you in pain?" He whispered.

"You're still awake- ah, no. I just can't fall asleep." I then turned to his side. Venti had a few notes in his hand that he had been reading over and over again. Apparently he hardly slept either. He then put them back in a drawer of the bedside table and turned to me as well.

"Hehe, me neither."

We're in the same boat.

We both turned back onto our backs at the same time and looked up at the ceiling, sighing.

"Why can't you sleep, Venti?"

"Because I slept a lot during the day. And how about you?" Okay, that makes sense.

"Don't hold it against me, but somehow I've been worried for a while. Although I'm actually happy with the current situation." I confessed, fixing my hair so that it didn't fall in my face.

Venti looked at me in surprise. Of course it's not nice to hear your partner say something like that.

"Are you scared?" He asked.

"What should I be scared of?"

"Maybe of me?"

"Nonsense. Why would I be afraid of you?"

I smiled at him. He may be a person with unique abilities. It still doesn't change my view of him.

"I think it's more about the future. Things have been going a little too perfectly lately, you know. The thought that this can't be forever.... Is just awful."

I paused and looked at Venti's gentle face. He put his hand on the mattress. I then placed my hand on his.

"(Name), I don't want this to get lost either. What we can do is continue to be there for each other and make the best of life."

"Yes, that's true."

"But maybe something is actually missing in our lives... ah! More plants? Maybe a pet...?"

"What makes you think that?" I said with a laugh.

It's not uncommon for us to have late-night conversations like this.

"You're right. But what if we suddenly had a pet? Completely by accident, of course."

I raised an eyebrow at this comment. He was definitely up to something.

"It definitely won't be a cat." I reassured him.

"Nope... it's out of the question! Not even a cat would dare stray here. What's more likely is a child." He said, shrugging his shoulders. "With the amount of time we've spent being so productive, it wouldn't be surprising- eh? Are you asleep yet?"

I was already turned around with my back to him. The best way to reduce this chance is to just sleep now and do nothing.

He nudged me a few times.

"No goodnight kiss?"

Reduce chance..reduce chance...

"(Naame)." I turned only slightly and halfway to face him. Venti looked at me teasingly. "I know you can't fall asleep that fast."

I lifted a finger. "Okay... but just one."

"Mhm... Okay!"

Our lips touched gently once. I closed my eyes and tried to take in the moment. When we parted, I opened my eyes halfway.

Venti looked at me doe-eyed.

"Again..." I whispered, already admitting defeat.

Again and again, our lips found each other. Sometimes longer, sometimes shorter... after each kiss, I could clearly feel how weak I actually was after him. And I was the one who set the limit. After all, I'm a joke.

At one point, I turned completely onto my back because otherwise my back would ache. Venti clasped his hands in mine and I did the same.

I have no idea how this happened again. Once it got to the point where we were sharing kisses, it took time to stop. They were often gentle, innocent and soothing.

And yet sometimes.

We breathed a sigh of relief when we broke away from each other. Slightly out of breath, we looked at each other. He brushed away the thin thread of saliva from the corner of my mouth with his thumbs. Perhaps we were already feeling guilty because we hadn't just had one kiss, but several. As always, we took this with humor.

"Well then - good night!"

"Mh?"

Venti threw himself back on his back and closed his eyes. He then snored softly.

Confused, I sat up and looked at him. He's really asleep..?

I burst out laughing and covered him up properly. An he said, he had slept a lot during the day? I lay down next to him and hugged him tightly. I made sure not to let him go.

Fate can be a mean traitor.

It wasn't long before that day actually came.

The day the universe betrayed me once again. And I stared motionlessly at the dark sky with dull eyes.

You'll live only once..? What a lie.

Is my contract already over?

Part 17 (coming soon)

Masterlist

[koggthryn]

xii. asters & goldenrod

once, we lay with our skin stripped off us in a field, the grass growing up around us two, your jacket bleeding out beneath our bodies. we watched the wind mills turn over, the cattle slide down into valley villages with butchers and cleavers, the aster and the goldenrod root in the heavens above, rotting there. we exhaled exhaust and moaned against our mouths until the sorrow left us. OH OH, OHHHH GOD. we curled together, strong knees and proud chins and jaws, set. AM I HOPELESS? HAVE I DONE THIS TO MYSELF?

xiii. lamprey

she has learned of cain, condemned, and sinned against her own brother with the jawbone of an ass, blood under nails and adolescence brought to an end. she has been taught to unhinge her jaw and grown to shed skin in sunday school, has tasted the real paleo diet—plucked a lash from her eye, pierced a nail in the rind, peeled the flesh from her thigh—her moon-hungry pack of teeth have sunken into the pungent and the spiced, the wet meat smell of memory in a fine china skull.

xiv. final rites

YOU HAVE RETURNED. YOU HAVE RETURNED. they found your skin smoldering out back, where the dog pisses against the fence and motor oil leaks into the yard. they called in every prayer tree over the phone lines, bowed their necks and heads and lives over you, and the preacher didn't shut his eyes—how lustful—didn't even blink. he pleaded for your soul and made sure you knew it. SHE IS RISEN, PRAISE THE LORD.

xv. trespassing

you're out when you're not supposed to be, tipping your head back, back, back on the church's stoop and looking up. looking, seeking, searching, you find hollow-eyed grief gazing back down, the crucifixion looming over you. the garden angel out back is cracking, paint peeling from its cheeks, from her cheeks, but the wood carving of christ himself, christ almighty himself, doesn't bleed. doesn't cry. and you, you cry: LOOK AWAY LOOK AWAY.

xvi. below

and below us, below us garnets churn, minutes unfurling like leaves. we are still waiting. we are still watching out truck windows, watching our faces grow dark in the side mirrors, watching the statelines and welcome centers and exit signs all blur together.

xvii. not a lover

the story goes like this: she looked away for more, and he went missing instead. right there, quick and quiet. light bends and withers around the hole left in this town, avoiding his empty seat, the road sign at his bus stop, the boots left molding on his front stoop. they'll say her name was carved into his gut or wrist or web page. they'll say you can see her calling for him in the tree line, with the strange eyes of a goat. and when he turns back up, if he turns back up, he's lighting up sheet music and staring through cops, face wretched. calling himself PRAGMA LIBER. updating his status just the one time: ONLY HERE TO PROMOTE A SONG. THIS COMMIE PLATFORM CAN SUCK A MOTHERFUCKING DICK.

xviii. study group

WHAT'S YOUR NAME, AGAIN? she wants to apologize, wants to say KATHRYN LAUREN, but KATHRYN LAUREN sounds like windchimes and rose water, like a mother's hopes and dreams, and she is more of a million spider march down the back of a gas pump. she is houses that look like faces and bitter pine needle tea she steeped as a child, was baptized in as a child. she is wild blackberries and clotted blood, ripped-up psalms and an incisor for the tooth-fairy, a headless doll trailing the undergrowth, hand in hand with her. IT DOESN'T MATTER, she says. IT DOESN'T MATTER. WHAT UNIT SHOULD WE START WITH?

xix. vantage

and besides, you breathe differently down here.

xx. rosary

in a box by the bed, there's some tinny sound. our father, and his father before him, left us their dog tags. DALE LYNN. PROTESTANT. we remember his singing in church. we remember his weeping. PORTER, LEONARD. some rust and rot. a dent in the name. we can wait with them, can count every pearl in the chain, keep the seconds in hand, feel them move through us. the days, the months. this is religious, this careful observation of time. and in a darker place, with dust storms and corpses curling into one another, our father counts the pearls. our father before him counts the pearls.

xxi. questions to ask your mother

mom—the word MOM hides a prayer: PLEASE, LOOK AT ME, AFTER ME, PLEASE LISTEN, LISTEN TO ME, PLEASE, PLEASE STROKE MY HEAD, WASH MY BACK, LET ME STAY IN YOUR HOME TONIGHT, PLEASE FEED ME, FEED ME, FEED ME—and you never stop calling her MOM. when you are her height, when the garden angel fractures its wing and cheekbone in a move and dad shoves his hand in your mouth, index and middle finger in the shape of a gun, when the ambulance comes for you and you change your name for the twelfth time, she'll scream THIS IS HOW YOU TREAT ME in your face. you'll want to break the entire length of your life over her head, want to ask DID YOU BRING PRECIOUS THINGS INTO A HOSTILE PLACE OR HOSTILE THINGS INTO A PRECIOUS ONE, but you'll only scream back WHY WON'T YOU JUST HOLD ME?

xxii. observer

look away, please. look away.

'23 september prompts days 12-22 | @nosebleedclub

[thebemoon]

Hi!! I love your writing! And I was wondering how you set a scene like the actual setting. I feel like my setting is always lacking and that the readers won’t understand the atmosphere i’m setting or wont know where the setting is taking place. Sorry if this makes no sense.

Hey, this is a great question, and I see a lot of talented writers struggle with setting. It's all about the details, everyone says, but how do you know what details to add?

For me, I usually add details I find interesting and serve one or all of three goals: plot, character or mood. Although sometimes I throw things in because they're just neat, and those details sometimes turn out to be the most important of all.

I usually begin with mood. Do you want a bright and cheerful setting, or a dark and sinister setting, or a plain and sparse and disturbingly perfect setting? Even an ordinary room can look dark and sinister if that's the mood of the scene.

In "The Gloriana Set," I set one of the most dangerous and scary scenes in a very simple setting: an ordinary hunting shack in the woods:

"Theo twirled, Apparating them inside a small, one-room cottage. There was nothing inside the pine structure except a fireplace and two three-level bunks. The warped wood floor was covered in suspiciously dark stains."

Theo and Hermione are attacked in this setting, and so I sprinkle details like the feeling of the rough wood, and the sun shining through dirty windows, and frequently mention the bunk beds. Its very ordinariness is creepy because this shack is used to hunt Muggles, not deer. In "The Darkwood Wand," Draco's bedroom is also sinister, but instead of simple, I piled on the objects and furnishings. The whole room screamed opulence and magic and danger. Here is Hermione seeing it for the first time:

"She was kneeling between the bed and a green velvet armchair, which faced a black leather sofa. A grandfather clock loomed in a corner, its mother-of-pearl face another weak source of light. The furniture was heavily carved—black walnut, if Hermione had to guess, she’d developed a bit of expertise from all those woodworking magazines. A small harp, of all things, glittered in the moonlight from atop a bookshelf.

"Slowly she stood, and turned to face an obsidian fireplace lined with bricks of black glass. Its mantle was crammed with silver objects: picture frames, bottles, boxes. It was outrageous, really, this lap of luxury for Slytherin’s worst. Even the fire tools were topped with silver. Hermione stepped forward and pulled out the poker: It was surprisingly heavy for its size, yet as delicately balanced as a rapier."

Every object mentioned plays a role in the story later on, and it's all seen through Hermione's point of view.

Finally, settings can be fun. Here is Trelawney's Divination classroom in the "Darkwood Wand." I leaned heavily on the Rowling's description and added bits of my own to serve the story:

"Draco stalked across the room and sat uncomfortably close to Granger. The lamp above them, draped with a silk scarf, cast a dim, crimson light. Draco was sweating slightly and it wasn't from the stuffy air."

and here's a setting primed to annoy a grouchy Draco:

"It was Xylomancy Day, with twigs and strips of wood scattered on all the tea tables. Frankincense billowed from a heated plate, and Draco coughed as he took a seat on his pouf. He could feel another headache coming on."

and this is yet another confined setting in this claustrophobic story:

"“FOOL!” Trelawney cried, her hands in the air. Her robe’s sleeves fell back to reveal skinny arms. “Magician, devil, hanged man!”

Startled, Draco fell backward, banging his head against the wall. His knee hit the bottom of the table and scattered the cards. Hermione, thankfully, kept her composure; she slid one hand under Draco’s elbow and steadied the table with the other."

The key is to have your characters constantly interacting with the setting. Setting in a story isn't like a painted backdrop on a stage, especially in a Harry Potter story where anything can be magical.

Hope that helps!

Thebe

[waltwhitmansbeard]

sneakily drops a box of muffins and maple ginger cookie in your ask box

Good morning :D

Whenever you have the chance, may I ask Spring Prompts - 31. helping each other out, and to make it different, anyone from C2?

Thank you <3

31. helping each other out NOM NOM. idk if you'd exactly call this "helping each other out" but eh whatever.

Honestly, Caduceus is so lucky to have a friend like Jester. After the Nein Heroez limped into Nicodranas for some repairs (a hurricane followed by an encounter with a pod of merrows made for quite the one-two punch for the poor ship), Jester had decided she didn't want to wait around for the job to be done and instead spent several days pestering Caleb via Sending to teleport her and Fjord to the Blooming Grove for a visit with their favorite firbolg family. Three nights of near-constant telepathic songs about cupcakes later, and here they are, Jester and Fjord, ready to bring joy and baked goods to the Clay family.

The first thing Jester notices, of course, is how plain their little house is. Most of the damage that had been done during the confrontation with Trent Ikithon has been fixed, but no artistry was put into it. It's just plain stone and wood—and that can't do.

"Caduceus?" Jester asks in her most sweetest voice as she forces pastries from Nicodranas into Clarabelle's hands. "Do you know what I was thinking?"

"Rarely if ever," comes the dry reply. Caduceus is bent low over the stovetop, boiling water for tea.

"I was thinking that maybe it would be nice to have some color."

"But you're already so colorful, Jester," Clarabelle remarks. She pops the croissant into her mouth, and Jester grins as her eyes narrow in happiness.

"Not for me! For you! For the Blooming Grove!" She bounces over to Caduceus. "Listen. I brought all my paints with me. Fjord said I didn't have to but what does he know?" She glances out the window to see Fjord chatting with Colton about something boring, probably. "I'm thinking...a big mural, with lots of flowers and butterflies and oh! Maybe some bees? Something really pretty for all your dead people to look at!"

Caduceus sighs, and she's not sure if it's the usual sigh ("I don't know, Jester...") or her favorite sigh (the sigh of giving in, perfected by Fjord). "Well, y'know, Jester, the Blooming Grove, it's kind of...a sacred place..."

"And what is more sacred than art?" She flaps a hand in Clarabelle's direction. "Clara, tell him I'm right."

Her eyes go wide. "I...uh...I mean..."

"Okay okay okay, not a mural then. Maybe...I paint the front door? Something really pretty and welcoming."

He sighs again, and there it is! Her favorite sigh. "Just...make sure it's okay with my mom first?"

"Of course, of course!" She throws her arms around him, happy to note he's not a rail-thin as he once was, but still nearly knocks him off of his feet. "You won't regret it, I promise!"

It takes little time to convince Constance to let her paint the door. She mostly just gives Jester that indulgent smile she's come to rely upon and sends her on her way. So Jester stands before the door, her paints spread around on the little front porch, her tongue between her teeth as she surveys her canvas. The door needs to be bright, it needs to be inviting, and it needs to tell all of the spirits here in the Blooming Grove that they picked the right place to spend the rest of eternity. It also needs to pay homage to the Traveler, because even though Caduceus serves the Wildmother, it cannot hurt to have an extra set of eyes watching over this place.

And so she gets to work. It takes her all afternoon, stretching and stooping and swirling her paints around, transforming what was once a plain wooden door into an explosion of color and life. Clarabelle comes out to watch, still munching on some pastries, and at one point Fjord moseys over to remind Jester that this isn't their house, which, duh, that's why it was so dull before! The sun is making its way down into the tops of the surrounding Savalirwood by the time she's finished. She steps back to admire her handiwork, paint-stained hands proudly on her hips, before covering the doorway with the tarp she'd been using as a dropcloth. "Oh Clays! C'mere!"

One by one, the Clays and Fjord gather, the latter clearly nervous about whatever she was going to reveal. Jester claps her hands together. "My beloved Clay family, I would like to present to you a Jester Lavorre original: your front door!"

She whips the dropcloth away to reveal her grand creation. The door is no longer a door, but rather a slice of the Blooming Grove itself. From the bottom, all manner of wildflowers of yellow and blue and red and pink lick up from whispers of green grass, overgrown and buzzing with the tiniest crawling things. A few crooked headstones just peek over the tops of the petals, and between them, framed by the towering trunks of the Savalirwood, is a family in silhouette, five figures with floppy ears holding hands, draping arms around each other's shoulders. Jester employed some of her magical paints to create small butterflies that really flit around their heads, and a few birds dancing between the branches of the trees over head. The sun is setting between them, just as it is now, in real life, and it casts a warm glow over the entire scene.

Jester watches the Clays intently, anxious for their reaction. For a long minute, they just stare in silence. Then Caduceus slowly walks up and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "It's wonderful, Jester. A real masterpiece."

She beams. "Thank you, Caduceus!" She tackles him into another hug, and he laughs, patting her back. "And look!" She releases him and rushes to the door, pointing down to the flowers in one corner. "See?"

Caduceus peers down, and a bemused smile appears on his face when he spots it: the petals of one flower perfectly overlay with those of another to form the shape of a dick.

"The Traveler is with you!" Jester whispers.

"You're with me, Jester," he drawls. "That's what really matters."

The rest of the Clays come to congratulate and thank her for her artistic contribution to their home, and yeah, Jester thinks as Constance hugs her tight, Caduceus is so lucky to have such an amazing friend like her.

[lonita]

Hobbies

Wikipedia used to have this monstrous list of hobbies - that they have sadly replaced with something deeply subpar. Luckily, I captured it before they got rid of it. This is a much edited version with a few of my own thrown in. So, if you're bored, need an adventure, or are looking for some personal improvement or something ...

acroyoga, airplane spotting, antiquing, art, baking, beachcombing, beekeeping, billiards, birdwatching / bird-listening, boiled books, book reclamation or repurposing, bookbinding, brewing, building board games, button gathering, calligraphy, camping, candle making, candy making, canning, carpentry, caving, ceramics, cheese making, cleaning for the disabled and elderly, cleaning up the local park, climbing, clothes making, collecting postcards, conlang, creating comics, crochet, cross-stitch, crossfit, cycling, drawing, embroidery, ephemera gathering, etching, exploring, felting, fencing, film-making, flower pressing, fly tying, fossil hunting, found object art, fragrance-making, frisbee, furniture restoration, gardening, geocaching, glass-blowing, graffiti or street art spotting, guerrilla cultivating, hand lettering, hiking, information/word games, Jewellery making, journalling, junk journals, kayaking, kintsugi, knot tying, LARPing, learning a new language, leather-working, Lego, macrame, making bird feeders and bat boxes, making infused teas, making models, map-making, martial arts, math, Meals on Wheels delivery, memorabilia gathering, metalwork or blacksmithing, mineral gathering, miniature painting, model-making, mosaics, mudlarking, nature journalling, needlepoint, ocean glass gathering, orienteering, origami, painting, paper-crafting, paper marbling, photography, pickleball, playing instruments, pottery, printmaking, puzzles, quilling, quilting, racquet ball, rafting, rail fanning, ren fairs, research, road trips, robotics, rock-hounding, rock climbing, rock painting, rock tumbling, rug hooking, running, scrapbooking, scrounging, scuba, sculling or paddling, sculpting, sewing, short wave radio, signal games, singing, skating, snorkelling, soap making, songwriting, spelunking, spinning, stargazing, stone carving, string arts, sudoku, swimming, tennis, thrifting, toy making, upcycling, urban exploration, verse, volunteering at the food bank, walking in the woods, weaving, welding, woodworking, world building, writing, yarn bombing, yoga

[fourseasonsfigs]

Mid-Autumn, Snow Mountain Edition

Now for something a little different!

This fig set / diorama is actually an individually made to order piece. There's a fan artist on Xianyu that designs and creates Word of Honor / Junzhe figures for purchase. The artist will also take commissions, but I haven't done that yet (although I definitely have some figures in mind!).

The small diorama is made out of painted wood, and the figures out of sculpting clay. The moon is a little working light that adds a bit of extra delight to the scene!

The little scene is actually quite small. The outer dimensions of the frame are 12cm x 12cm (4.7 inches to me and my fellow Americans). I put the box next to the original official Tofu figs for size comparisons. Tiny and cute!

Here we have A-Xu, as light as air (or willow catkins), floating along in a tranquil snowy mountain evening. You can tell this is a CP (couples fan) artist because in his hand he has an egg, a representation of a CP fan, dressed in mid-summer bunny ears. We also have white-haired Lao Wen, holding a tangerine, also a symbol for a CP fan. Another tangerine sits on the snow, happily looking on. It's just about as cute as cute can be. You can see how it caught my attention on the Xianyu feed!

I'm going to do a few larger angles of the whole piece first, and then zoom in for some individual closeups.

The whole piece is quite sturdy. I was really worried that pieces would break in shipping (that ribbon seemed especially vulnerable), but it was well packed by the seller.

That plastic thing up there on the right is the battery light pack - we'll get around to a better view of it.

It's a little off-balance here because of the battery pack.

Speaking of, here it is. I had to have the battery taken out for international transport, so I need to find a replacement. As you can see, the back of the frame is very solidly nailed in, so I can't, say, shine a tea light in the back and expect it to come through to the moon.

When I locate a little battery, I'll come back and update this post!

In the meantime, we'll move on to the extreme closeups of these cute little figs.

We'll start with A-Xu first, since he's the shixiong here. A-Xu's floating ribbon scarf, much like A-Xu himself, is a thing of beauty - delicate and graceful. It's one of my favorite things about this piece.

I'm going to try to get all angles I can here - bear with me!

The detail is just wonderful. Keep in mind how tiny this is! It's really extraordinary. Also, the little egg in the bunny costume is super cute. I love animal costumes of any kind!

Aww, look at his little feet! I love the layers of his robes and of course the pants and boots. This is also a great view to see the scarf / ribbon.

Alright, on to the Lao Wen closeups! It's all you, shidi.

Look at the expression on his face. I love him! The snow mountain costume looks fantastic, and the little juzipi looks about as happy as can be.

A full on view of those super adorable faces! The artist did such a wonderful job with this.

It only takes the artist less than a week to make one of these. Amazing. I would still be working on the (first) juzi, if it was me.

A photo kind of wedged in between A-Xu's ribbon scarf and the mid-autumn moon. The figures feel solidly set in the frame - I don't worry they are going to budge or fall out at all.

This is such a funny, immensely foreshortened view! All we see is chipmunk cheeks!

There was no way I was going to forget the mid-summer tangerine CP fan! Us JZP have to stick together. I gave this little jiemei a wink myself when I saw her 😉

No box or box cards here, since this was individually hand crafted.

After this little item arrived in my warehouse and I saw how wonderful it was, I bought a number of the artist's other items. I'm really looking forward to making posts of those when they arrive at my door!

Material: Sculpting clay (figures) and wood (frame)

Fig Count: 234

Scene Count: 24

Rating: 😉🍊

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]