#marble mortar and pestle

[susoriginals]

Vintage gray Marble Granite Mortar and Pestle 6" Wide Only $12

[handicraft-product]

Crafting Culinary Excellence: The Timeless Artistry of Marble Mortar & Pestle

In the realm of culinary mastery, where flavor and finesse intertwine, the marble mortar and pestle emerge as indispensable tools of the trade. Beyond their utilitarian function, these iconic kitchen essentials embody a tradition of craftsmanship and elegance that elevates the art of cooking to new heights. Let's explore the enduring allure of marble mortar and pestles and how they enrich the culinary experience with their timeless beauty and unmatched performance.

Marble's Timeless Allure: Marble, with its natural elegance and durability, has been revered for centuries as a symbol of luxury and sophistication. Characterized by intricate veining and polished surfaces, each piece of marble is a work of art in its own right. From ancient sculptures to modern architectural marvels, marble has stood the test of time, exuding a sense of timeless beauty and refinement that transcends trends and fads.

Crafting Culinary Excellence: The marble mortar and pestle serve as essential tools in the culinary world, offering a traditional and effective method for grinding and pulverizing spices, herbs, and other ingredients. Unlike their modern counterparts, which may lack the tactile experience and precision of hand grinding, marble mortar and pestles provide a level of control and finesse that enhances the flavor and texture of dishes.

Enduring Quality and Performance: One of the most appealing aspects of marble mortar and pestles is their exceptional durability and performance. Crafted from solid marble, these kitchen essentials are built to withstand the rigors of daily use, retaining their beauty and functionality for years to come. The smooth, non-porous surface of marble ensures that flavors are not absorbed or transferred between ingredients, preserving the integrity of each dish.

A Touch of Elegance in the Kitchen: Beyond their practical utility, marble mortar and pestles add a touch of elegance and sophistication to any kitchen. Whether displayed prominently on a countertop or tucked away in a cabinet, their timeless beauty and classic design make them a stylish addition to any culinary space. The natural variations in veining and coloration of marble lend each mortar and pestle a unique and distinctive character, further enhancing their appeal as cherished kitchen heirlooms.

Versatility in Culinary Creativity: From grinding spices for curry pastes to crushing fresh herbs for marinades, marble mortar and pestles offer unparalleled versatility in culinary creativity. Their sturdy construction and ergonomic design make them ideal for a wide range of kitchen tasks, from crushing garlic and ginger to grinding nuts and seeds. Whether you're a seasoned chef or an aspiring home cook, a marble mortar and pestle is an indispensable tool for elevating your culinary creations.

In conclusion, marble mortar and pestles represent more than just kitchen utensils – they are timeless symbols of culinary craftsmanship and elegance. With their enduring quality, unmatched performance, and timeless beauty, they stand as testaments to the artistry and tradition of cooking. Invest in a marble mortar and pestle today and embark on a journey of culinary excellence that will delight your senses and enrich your culinary experience for years to come.

[traditionalproduct]

Embracing Tradition: The Classic Charm of Cast Iron and Copper Cookware 

The right tools can make all the difference for food lovers, beginner chefs, and expert cooks. In this case, the timeless beauty and obvious usefulness of old cookware come into play. With the attractiveness of cast iron cookware, the tactile magic of marble mortar and pestle, and the beauty of copper pots and pans, these tools are important for more than just cooking. They are a reminder of time-honored culinary practices. Cast iron cookware looks nice because it can spread heat evenly, making sure that every meal is cooked perfectly. This old range has things like the Dutch oven, grills, and skillets that are known for being long-lasting and effective. They were once thought to be the king of the kitchen. The patina they get from being used for a long time can also give food a unique taste, which is another reason why they are so popular. However, these tools need to be carefully maintained in order to be used. Cast iron pieces need to be seasoned with oil every so often to keep their surface in good shape and make them last longer. This keeps them from sticking and rusting. Cast iron cookware has been used for generations because it is both useful and rustic, which is why it is so popular on websites that sell antique cookware. Copper pots and pans shine, which goes well with the durability of cast iron. They are praised for distributing heat quickly and evenly, and they also cool down quickly, making them perfect for controlling temperatures. Because of this, copper is the best metal for precise cooking, especially when making toffee or sauces that are very thin. In addition to being useful, these things look good too. They have a bright sheen that makes a kitchen look better. Pots and pans made of shiny copper that hang from the ceiling not only look classy, but they also make a statement in terms of interior design. Still, because copper is reactive, these tools usually have tin or stainless steel on the inside to make them safe for cooking. The marble mortar and pestle is one of the most popular hand-held cooking tools. Not only is it a reminder from the past, but it also works as a tribute to the basic steps of cooking. Electric grinders can make ingredients hot, which can destroy their flavors. The marble mortar and pestle, on the other hand, doesn't do that, so the results are always original and fragrant. Herbs and spices are ground in them, but they are also very important for making salads, sauces, marinades, and pastes. This classic tool has made it possible for cooks to do amazing things in the kitchen, like making pesto with hard, ground basil or sambal with garlic and chilly that go well together.  To put it simply, the real appeal of old cookware lies in its classic style, practicality, and emotional link to the old ways of cooking. Copper pots and pans, cast iron cookware, and the marble mortar and pestle are all important parts of culinary history. They represent a mindset of simplicity and functionality that seems more important than ever today. As with old recipes, these cooking tools have stories to tell about custom and skill, which makes us appreciate the cooks who came before us. It makes sense that old cookware will always be appealing: it combines beauty, custom, and unmatched usefulness in a way that never goes out of style.

[heritagecollectibles]

Marble (It's Heavy!) Mortar And Pestle

Marble (It’s Heavy!) Mortar And Pestle

[charles-leclerizz]

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑blue views

🏁 Pairings : Carlos Sainz X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : smut [nothing major, listed at the end of the writing], fluff, stress [which is aliviated by the smut]

🏁 Word Count : 3.6k words (3612 words)

🏁 Summary : It’s time to celebrate! For everyone else that is. You, on the other hand, will be planning your’s and your fiance’s “engagement week” festivities, until you die. That is, until an impromptu intervention is planned.

🏁 translations via radio comm below

🏁 credits : word dividers by @heavenlayt

🏁 Music player : Good to be by Mark Ambor

“Carlos!” You shouted out, leaning back against the heel of your soft wedges as you reached behind you for more cocktail glasses. The sound of your fiancé’s loafers against the terracotta staircase echoed throughout the ground level as he made his way to the kitchen, where you were working alongside half a dozen cooks.

“Si, Mariposa?” He came up behind you, plucking the crystal margarita glass from your fingers and taking a sip of the peachy, carbonated concoction that you had masterfully created. You giggled when he hummed happily and kissed your neck, “It’s delicious.”

“Ay, Ay, Señor. Tienes que esperar a la luna de miel” An elderly voice scolded from your left followed with a hollow bonk. Carlos hissed, rubbing the back of his head where a thick wooden rolling pin had struck him playfully, “You wound me, Maria.”

He followed with a pained “Literally.” When Maria had merely shot him a fond look over her shoulder as she went back to washing the tomatoes in the deep-set ceramic sink.

“You’re absolutely sure that everyone got the invites?” You leaned down to inspect the dozen drinks that you had made, “Because we invited at least 60 people, and if I make 60 drinks and there are not exactly 60 throats present to ingest them. You are going to remain abstinent until we’re married.”

Carlos stared at you open mouthed, a betrayed expression overtook his face, “So you would choose Maria’s wishes over mine? muy cruel.” He then bought his hands up from your waist to brush your hair from your shoulder, dragging his fingers up your arm-he slipped off the thin spaghetti strap of your white, cotton summer dress to press short, sweet kisses on your skin, “I mean can you really resist this?” He reasoned.

“It would be very easy Mi Amour.” You harrumphed, ignoring the tingling shocks that fluttered beneath your skin at the drag of his lips against your shoulder. You jolted forward when you felt his other hand travel from your waist, down to the front of your dress, “Carlos- I have so much to do. I mean I promised Alex and Lily I would make trifle for dessert, but then your parents have this one friend who hates custard! I mean did you hear the story, he literally puked, and I will not have him puke in my engagement party, nope. Not on my watch.”

You wagged your finger in the air before grabbing another five glasses from their upside-down position on the kitchen island where you were working. Taking the washcloth that sat comofortably in the front pocket of your plaid apron, you began wiping away the droplets of water from the crystal before continuing to babble about your long list of duties for the upcoming week of festivities.

“So, I need to also make these cute fruit tarts that I made that one time. But then I realised that Charles and Max hate kiwi, and the whole dessert is basically that, so for them I’m making this great chocolate gateau, the one at the restaurant? Since they really fucking liked that one.”

You grumbled out the last part, crushing up your freshly picked strawberries that had previously been resting in a metal strainer along with a cream, cotton cover up to keep them moist. The marble mortar grinded against the matching pestle as the sweet fruits reduced to a thick paste.

“On top of that the other like, 40 guests have very specific wants, so I have 20 different things to make along with this signature drink that Jenni designed for us! You know her, right? the bar tender at the other restaurant in Monaco, I learnt how to make it, and you said its good. It’s good right?”

You add a few cups of carbonated water to the pinkish paste in front of you, before turning back to Carlos, who had been patiently listening to you rant- mainly due to the fear that if he were to stop, you would give his ear the same treatment as the berries that remain crushed beneath you, “Si, mi mariposa. Very good.”

You sighed before fully spinning around to face him, resting your back on the dark wood counter, looping your hands around his neck, “I’m sorry Carlito.” You brush a singular strand of hair that fell from its carefully crafted style onto his forehead, “This isn’t very fun for you, is it?” You move onto your tiptoes to reach his cheek.

“Nonsense, I have Papa and Guillermo coming to help with the decorations outside, I think Blanca and Mama are also coming- to help.” He chuckles when you groan happily and bring his head down to kiss his lips graciously.

“Thank you, Mi Amour.” You murmur against his mouth, running your fingers through his hair as his arms came to circle your waist, pulling you against his chest. You sigh against him, melting in his embrace as you barely manage to hold yourself up and anchor yourself on his broad shoulders that strain against the baby blue polo top, he chose to wear.

“AY, SEÑOR,” Maria bumped Carlos slightly as she came rushing through the walkway, trotting determinedly through the low, exposed brick archway and outside to the patio area that was protected from the morning sunrays by the lattice structure that stood tall whilst being overtaken by winding ivy.

Beneath this, Maria sat down at least 3 trays full of freshly sliced vegetables, sun drying them as preparation for the multiple dishes that would be served that evening, “Si no estás aquí para aportar nada útil, sal de la cocina.” She screeched whilst heading to the other side of your estate, towards the large garden that housed many seasoned plants, ready with multiple fruits and vegetables for plucking.

“I think she will cook me next.” He shuddered before laying his forehead on yours, “Do not worry, Mariposa. Everything will turn out fine.”

“Why did I suggest an engagement week.” You pouted, nuzzling your head into his chest, to hide away from all the responsibilities you had brought onto yourself. You shake your head wildly, causing flurries of hair to escape from the bun you had messily done up, “All I know is that it must go well. Maria will for sure have a heart attack if it doesn’t,”

“I still think it’s a good idea” He comforts you, until the melodic sound of the doorbell resounds throughout the house, and he detaches from you, “That must be the back-up.” He winks at you as he jogs off to open the large, rustic door. You watch from the kitchen as Carlos laughs boisterously whilst embracing his family.

His mother and sister quickly wave him off, ushering the men out to the acres of back garden they have yet to decorate to approach you.

Blanca dances up to you, wiggling her arms and hands excitedly as she beams at your exhausted face, “There she is! Beautiful bride-to-be, our mariposa.” The knee length dress she chose skims her legs as the burgundy silk falls from her shoulders delicately, she hugs your neck tightly, swinging you both side to side whilst you flail around.

“Hola, diabla.” You chuckle, catching your mother-in-law’s eyes, you wait until Blanca removes herself from you for Reyes to do the same, but instead of violently rotating you like a ragdoll, she rubs your back and coos sympathetically.

“Ay mi muñeca, you look too tired to be a blushing bride.” She moves her arms from being drawn around your neck to rub your shoulders.

“What can I say? There’s too much to be done for me to be blushing.” You shrug, already going back to pouring out 10 more drinks, adding to the sea of glasses in front of you.

Blanca tuts disapprovingly, “This is not what being engaged is meant to be, it’s meant to be fun! And new! And sexy!” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, ignoring her mother who had picked up your to-do list and hid her face in the paper.

“Blanca, please.” Reyes rolled her eyes, “But she’s not wrong.” She reaches for a spare apron that hung rejected on the back of the pantry door.

“No, mamá please,” You attempt to snatch the apron away from Reyes, who tuts disapprovingly and had already begun to collect multiple utensils from your spacious kitchen whilst talking quickly with the cooks who had been diligently making progress on the rest of the menu, “I can’t possibly allow you to do my work.”

Blanca plucked the neatly tied bow around your waist, undoing the stained, pale blue cotton that protected your dress, “No, your job is to relax, and let my culo brother treat you nicely. Champagne, strawberries, chocolate.” She listed off the aphrodisiacs one by one, pushing you through the living room and up the stairs. You braced yourself on the railing as you let her guide you through the landing.

“I have all of that in the food that I should be making,” You whined, stomping your foot, and swivelling to level her with your eyes, “There is just too much to do before tonight. And the boys don’t even know what to do for decorations.”

Blanca swatted her hand through the air, as if physically plummeting away your doubts, “You’ve had the entire family added on your Pinterest board.” You snorted at that, but pressed your lips together when she shot you a look, “If I can’t whip them into shape, consider me a bad sister from day 1.” She planted her hands on her waist before pointing at your bedroom door, “Now either you can start yourself a bath, or I will.”

You harrumph and dig your feet into their spot on the newly waxed, wooden floors beneath you, “I see how it is.” Blanca squints her eyes at you, “Fine, I see how it is.”

You half expect her to push you into the room, but instead she leans over the banister and shouts, “CARLOS !!”

“Blanca!” You gasp, grabbing her dress and tugging her back from the beam, “W-Why would you?” You splutter.

“AY CARLOS !!” She continues to screech until you slap a palm over her mouth, careful of the nude brown lipstick she had worn.

“Si diabla?” Your fiancé shouts back up, already at the base of the staircase. Blanca licks your hand, causing you to yelp and jump back, giving her the perfect opportunity to answer, “Your fiancé is anxious as fuck.”

“What else is new?” He chuckles, hand braced on the railing as he emerges from the winding staircase. Carlos takes in the new scene, you are tackling Blanca onto the floor, she’s squealing whilst attempting to wrangle free from you, tummy first on the floor, “Mi amour, if you are going to leave me for my sister...” He starts, crossing his arms and tilting his head at you.

“You both are insufferable.” You grit out, twisting the knob to your bedroom, wating for Carlos to step inside. He stops momentarily when Blanca darts an arm out and begins to ramble to him in Spanish, Carlos answers just as quickly before his sister reaches up to smack the underside of his head.

“Blanca!” He shouts out after her, but she ignores him and sprints downstairs to assist with the preparations. Carlos turns back to you, slumping forward to rest his head against the door frame that you were currently leaning on, arms folded amusedly as you looked at him from under your eyelashes. He pivots his neck, gazing fondly into your eyes, “You’re pretty.” He mumbles, bringing a limp hand up to rest on your cheek, thumb moving soothingly against your face. You lean into his touch, “So are you” You breathe out, leaning upwards to ghost your lips over his.

This moment was merely poetic, the two of you, finding respite in the chaos within each other. His soft touch as he leaned forward for more, you grant it, because you craved him as deeply as he did for you. The astringent sweetness of his lips against yours and the heavenly feeling of his fingers cradling your hips made you moan out as he caught you weight when your knees gave out from beneath you.

The door creaked shut behind the two of you, your palms digging into the waistline of his shorts to tug his shirt out, his fingers dance down from your neck to the large cut-out of your dress that showed off the curve of your spine. Carlos broke away from you momentarily, his eyes still shut as he chuckled when you whined, chasing his lips desperately, “Jump,” He murmured, bracing himself by tugging you close and digging his fingers into the back of your thighs.

You complied, hopping into his secure hold before attaching your mouth to his once again, nipping at his full bottom lip. Carlos passed through the bedroom with ease, his muscle memory allowing him to walk underneath the long archway that led to your shared bathroom. He released you gently, his fingers pinching the hem of your dress on your way down, he bunched up the flowy linen, dragging it up to your waist and tugging it over your head- leaving you in just a pair of white, lacy underwear.

You laughed slightly, your hair mussed at taking over half of your face, “Carlos” you huff out. He laughs at your annoyance, gently moving the strands out of your eyes before tracing the dips and curves of your chest and stomach with feather-light touches.

Sighing, you tilt your head back, allowing him to press his lips against the column of your neck. You loop your hands around his neck, stumbling backwards towards the sink whilst bringing him with you. Carlos hoists you up and onto the counter, finally stepping back to gaze at your naked body, his eyes ravish you, the stiff peaks of your breasts and curve of your stomach, you watch him intently when he finally makes his way down to your panties, a damp patch already forming.

Carlos approaches you once again, his breath fresh and minty against your skin, “Tan bonita.” He compliments, trailing warm, open mouth kisses on your collar bone, starting from your shoulder until he reaches your sternum, “Tan deliciosa.” He moves to your breast, decorating it with his own purple-ish love marks, he littered them across until he enveloped your nipple into his mouth, his tongue licking against the pebble until it hardened beneath his attention.

Carlos turned his attention to the other whilst his other hand slipped beneath the elastic of your underwear, his middle finger teasing your wet slit, “all for me?” he moaned against your breast.

“of course.” You bury your hand in his hair, arching into his touch before he lowered to his knees in front of you.

“F-fuck” you whine, biting your lip harshly as he settles between your legs, he shucks you closer, harshly tugging you to the edge of the counter as he inches his mouth closer, hot breathe settling on the front of your underwear. You arch your back at the feeling, fingers teasing your peaked nipple, “please,” you whisper, eyes darting down to where Carlos had begun to lave lazily at your newly soaked panties.

“Please what? Huh?” He whispers, tongue darting out to push further into your throbbing hole. You whine, thighs threatening to clamp shut around his head, your hand inches down to shyly tug at his hair and guide him closer to your leaking cunt, “can’t even talk now? ‘s okay mariposa. I’ll take care of you.” He promises, laying one of your legs over his shoulder.

You breathe hitches slightly when you feel him drag his lips up your hip, only for his teeth to sink into your underwear band, trailing it off you.

You scrunch your eyes with a gasp when his kisses trail up from your ankle, to your calf and towards the inside of your thigh- you growl playfully when you hear him chuckle and coo up at you, “you were just stressed...” he pressed an open mouthed kiss to your skin, “being so diligent..” he continued, tongue ghosting over your leaking folds, “so perfect.”

“Carlos,” You moan, scratching your nails against his scalp, “you’re being mean. Hah. It’s not good to be mean to your future wi-“you cut yourself off with a scream, well, a muffled one, you managed to cover your agape mouth with your hand. He dove into your sex, tongue searing through you as he fucked the muscle steadily into you, curling it to poke gently at the sensitive, spongy part within you.

Carlos let his eyes flutter shut, the sweet taste of you staining itself onto his tongue, how he could stay like this forever, fuck the dinner, he only ever wanted to taste you. Only you.

“taste so good,” he panted against you, his tongue nudging your clit, in an oh-so delicious way that made you bite down on your fingers to stop your needy moans leaking down from the open, semi-circle window towards your in-laws, who were dedicatedly preparing your back garden to host a multitude of people.

“uh uh mariposa, quiero oír tu voz.” He reached up with one hand, tugging your palm away from your still open mouth.

“I-“you gulp heavily, trying to unscramble your mind from its mush state, “I- wan’ want more, need you to- do something please.” You bring your other leg to his shoulder, locking him between your limbs.

Carlos huffs out a laugh, biting playfully at your tender skin, he brings up one hand laying his fingers gently against your pussy lips, creating a ‘V’ to spread them wide, exposing the sensitive area to the midday warmth. And then, he spat, a fat string slowly drips from his mouth to land directly on your hole, he gawks at it with interest, his large puppy-dog eyes shining with lust.

You blush and cover your face, “come on- please? I’ve been soo good, did ever’thin you wanted.” You babbled, gyrating your hips against his face, baiting him into pleasuring you again until the delicious wave reached the crown of your skull until the tips of your toes.

“have you? You been my good girl? Hm?” He arches a brow at you, but stops you from answering when he lays his tongue flat against your clit, gently shaking his head side to side until you begin to shake and whine, “yeah, I know mi amor, se siente bien, ¿sí?” he whispers, prodding you cunt with his index finger, “you want it, don’t you?”

You hummed, eyes widening as though he had proposed all over again, “yeah, come on, please, pretty please with a- ahh,” once again, he wouldn’t let you finish your pleading, instead, he answered you with your prize, him pushing his fingers into you, your wetness dripping down into his palm and along his wrist.

Obscene squelches echoed through the bathroom, along with explicit sounds of his knuckles slapping against your skin and your high-pitched moans.

“yes- oh, don’t stop.” You sobbed, tears pricking at your eyes when he thrusted in a second finger, stretching you out whilst he crooked his digits to continue stimulating your g-spot mercilessly.

“don’t plan on it,” he promised, delving back in for another sacred taste, he tongue worked wonders against you, drinking in your nectar as though from the gods- letting in slip down his throat graciously. You groaned and bit your lip harshly, arching your back at angles that chiropractors would wince at until you could feel that euphoric feeling begin to bloom within your stomach.

Your walls fluttered around Carlos’ fingers, making him smirk against you and continue his movements, hungrily licking and slurping at you until your toes curled and eyes crossed over, “fuck,” you grit out, gasping laboriously as the tight knot finally snapped and torrential pleasure rained over you.

“te entendí my love,” He crawled over you, bracing himself above with his hands planted on the thick, white marble countertop you were currently blissed out on.

You brought your shaky hands up to his face, kissing him gently, “what about-hah, what about you,” you panted, wrapping your arms around him, continuing to softly brush your lips against his face. His temple, stubbled cheek, and muscled neck.

“We still have-“ He looked down at the heavy, silver Rolex on his wrist, “40 minutes, until Blanca comes hunting for us.” Carlos looked over to the floating bath that sat in front of the Juliet balcony, “and we have a bath.”

“That is just by a huge ass window,” You reminded him, glancing over to the open doors, revealing the intricate black grill of the balcony along with the pristine view of your tall trees that lined the well-kept entertaining space of your garden.

“Well, I doubt they don’t know what’s going on, I mean, my sister probably told them to leave a box of condoms outside.” He shrugged.

“In that case,” You started, your low whisper a mere breath of warm air between the two of you. Marinating hard and heady eye contact with him, you reached down to take his hand in yours, then slipped the two fingers that still dripped with your wetness, into your mouth.

Carlos stared at the sight, a short, strangled noise leaving him when you popped out his digits with an all too innocent noise, “Better make the most of it,” You leaned back against the mirror, hand open for him to carry you.

He groaned, shaking his head slightly before hoisting you in his arms, “best 40 minutes of my life.”

[Smut warnings : alot of kissing, fingering, sucking, love-bites, fem! oral recieving, fem! fingering recieving.]

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Spnish..to engli..sh....over

Ay, Ay, Señor. Tienes que esperar a la luna de miel - Oh, Oh, Lord. You have to wait for the honeymoon

muy cruel - very cruel

AY, SEÑOR - OH, SIR

Si no estás aquí para aportar nada útil, sal de la cocina - If you're not here to contribute anything useful, get out of the kitchen.

mariposa - butterfly

Hola, diabla - Hello, devil

Ay mi muñeca - Oh, my doll

Si, diabla? - Yes, devil?

Mi amour - My love

Tan deliciosa - So delicious

Tan bonita - So beautifull

quiero oír tu voz - I want to hear your voice

te entendí, mi amor, se siente bien, ¿sí? - I understood you, my love, it feels good, yeah

📻 Kchhhhh.loosing sign....al.....kcchh....over and out...

[theworldbrewery]

50 Items of Druid Grove Dungeon Dressing

Seeking items of dungeon dressing for a druid's grove? Seek no more! These 50 items are suitable for any lonesome woodland settlement, esoteric natural sanctuary, or tranquil shaman's hut.

Mortar and pestle

Box of salt

Woven net

Stone painted to resemble a turtle

Satchel of unidentified berries

Basket

Flint knife

Tanned animal hide

Leather work gloves

Beehive

No Trespassers sign

Field medicine kit

Tray of drying herbs

Rain barrel

Wind chimes

Mushrooms growing on a fallen log

Block of incense

Campfire ring

Preserved animal parts

Jars of moonshine

Fireflies

Shed snakeskin

Smoking pipe

Trowel

Gold nuggets

Salves and ointments

Hammock

Polished, forked branch

Bag of tubers

Stone shrine or monument

Plant shears

Bearskin rug

Thistle, ivy, or daisy crown

Stack of firewood

Water wheel

Hawk perch

Bundle of dried nettles

Bat house

Worn leather boots

Compost pile

Wheelbarrow

Pan flute

Sundial

Distillation gear

Ceremonial robes

Box of pigments

Oil flask

Mistletoe branch

Bedroll

A bag of stone marbles

[rockethorse]

Day eight: A random object recolour/mesh edit dump!

First up is a mesh edit of this wheelchair ramp by beosboxboy. I really liked the concept of this, but originally it had a huge “wheelchair access” sign standing off to the side, which made it difficult to place and, ironically, less accessible. So I got rid of it in Milkshape.

Then, as it had always bugged me that it didn’t align properly with foundations even though it so easily could... I learned how to tweak that, too.

If you have the original by beosboxboy you’ll have to delete it to use this one. You can find it in Deco > Sculptures for §2,500.

Next up - I always loved this tarpaulin/canvas “rug” converted from TS3 by Misty-fluff, especially for placing under yard sale items. Unfortunately, it was a bit too high off the ground, and it clipped really noticeably with any objects on top of it. So again, I lowered it a tiny bit, and figured I’d share.

The recolours are NOT included - you can get them over at misty-fluff’s original download post. Let my file override hers.

Now onto the Maxis object recolours!

Here are some first-aid kit recolours for the non-reflective medicine cabinet that came with Apartment Life (original in the bottom right for comparison) and one “hazardous materials” recolour I thought would work well for medical labs or hospitals.

You’ve got the typical red cross, and then - if you would like your game to comply with the Geneva convention - a green cross, then a white cross on a blue background taken from the hospital in The Sims 3. Finally you have a few made using the TS2 icon for the Medicine career, the white-on-red version of which turned out to be my favourite overall, surprisingly.

These are extremely simple recolours of the H&M wall banner (original on the left) to use as a green (or blue) screen for your aspiring influencer/gamer/streamer Sims.

And finally - some practical, everyday recolours of the “Mystic Dust” craftable reagent from Apartment Life (last swatch), because normal people own mortars and pestles too. You get black stone, a coppery sort of thing, grey and brown granite, cherry wood, marble, green stone, white porcelain, and then five cute retro colours.

They’re all grinding the same thing - probably sesame seeds.

You don’t need any mesh, but remember that you’ll need a buyable reagents mod to get it from the catalogue if you don’t want to have a witch craft one.

Download all mesh edits & recolours @ SFS

[pwlanier]

A Rare German or Netherlandish Apothecary’s Jar and Cover for a Bezoar the Name Carved in the Stained and Painted Pinewood Vessel the Interior Lined with a Marbled Paper containing a Bezoar Stone the lid and base with stamped red wax tags displaying the sign of a mortar and pestle and the legend ‘…. Gemeeni Apothek Den Haag’

Small old crack to the Bezoar Stone

Late 18th Century – Early 19th Century

Finch and Company

[foreverdolly]

𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐊 | 𝐮𝐩𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜

𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭! 𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

At first sight, he had tried to rationalize your presence. Austin had his leather apron tied tightly around his slim waist, his  glasses pushed on top of his head as he tinkered away with his mortar and pestle. “Are you here to pick up a prescription. . . ?” After he had readjusted his glasses so that he might see the patron properly, he began to trail off. One might think that because Austin was attractive, that he must have courted his fair share of ladies in the past. This, however, was blatantly untrue. He wasn’t the most sociable creature. He was awkward around others, and found it difficult to carry normal conversations with non-academics. He never read the gossip column of the gazette, rarely attended any sort of parties that didn’t have to do with fundraisers for the science and medical department of the local college, and found himself overwhelmed with normal social cues. Pretty women were just that to him. Pretty women. They often regretted approaching him the second that they tried to make conversation. He found himself nervous by the newcomer, his blue eyes widening ever so softly, and his hand tightening around the marble pestle. His movements stilled all together, and for a second all he could do was stare. “Not exactly,” Your heels clicked softly against the wooden floors of his shop as you approached, your cheeks warming as you allowed your eyes to excitedly look around the large shop. There were herbs, spices, and oils that you had only ever dreamed of working with. Rare imports from all over the world that should have been impossible for a normal apothecarist to get their hands on. “I have a small health and wellness article in the local gazette, and I was dropping off the piece for tomorrow's paper just as you were leaving.” That did little to answer his question, and though he would have been short and to the point with anyone else, he found himself nodding along, imploring you to continue. He wasn’t sure why, but there was just something about you that intrigued him. You were one of the most beautiful women that he had ever seen, but that wasn’t the reason for his tight chest and sweaty palms. He could tell that you were leagues above even the noblewomen that he had spoken to in the past. Your confidence, curious eyes, and obvious knowledge about the contents of his shop wasn’t the product of private tutoring or a public education.

You were just like him. 

Perhaps you two were friends, close confidants, or even lovers in a past life. There’s very little logic when it comes to love. It’s a chemical reaction. It’s a state of being so powerful that it can have physical reactions on the human body. There’s a sick sense of freedom in the possession of love. All Austin knew for certain was that you were the accomplice that he had been searching for, and that he was unwilling to let you and your non-judgemental eyes go any time soon. So against his better judgment, he stalked his way across his shop and locked the door. “You might want to sit down, because what I’m about to tell you will reshape the way you perceive both life and death.” 

And much to his relief, you leaned back against the wooden shelf, motioning for him to continue. 

Austin had never felt so overcome with admiration.

He often stayed cooped up in the library, hunched over his large oak desk, his rounded glasses perched on the edge of his nose. 

You found him most beautiful like that; soft lips parted and gently mouthing the words as he read, blue eyes narrowed on the page, the long fingers of his free hand pressed against his pale cheek. You had long-since decided that you could stare at him for hours. He had employed you to help him cheat death, and yet the only thing you truly found yourself experimenting with were the boundaries of your own emotions. There was bound to eventually be some sort of tension between the two of you, what with the sheer amount of time that you spent at each other’s sides. From the moment the both of you opened your eyes each morning, you were connected at the hip.

Ever so slowly he reached out, taking the sleeve of your dress in his hands before giving it a gentle pull so that you would be forced to shuffle towards him. You moved closer, your heart nearly pounding right out of your chest. “Right again, my dear. Honestly. . . I often think that I should be the one working for you.” You could have died and gone to heaven. Doctor Butler was a genius, and had been cited in many of the very same textbooks that you studied during your own years in college. You had always admired him for his forward way of thinking, and the progressive strides that he was taking in the world of academics. He thought that you were clever. He never once had talked down to you, and never elaborated during his ramblings unless asked. Austin Butler didn’t care that you were a woman, quite the contrary. He respected you even more because of it. He knew that you were wildly intelligent, and here he was. . . praising you. You could have melted into a pool a goo just beneath his feet.

Austin had never believed in a God, but there was something about you that made him want to change his mind. It was the way that you carried yourself that made his legs feel unsteady and his hands shaky. Your quick wit and sharp tongue made him want nothing more than to be given the opportunity to kneel at your feet in worship. Never in his life had he ever met his match in another person, but he had found that in you. It felt as though he had spent his entire life searching for a companion that could understand him and his endeavors, and here you were. Fate must have had a hand in the way that you had turned up on his doorstep. He had wished for a miracle every night before bed, and you had landed right in his lap. He wanted to shape his entire future around you. Your glorious laugh would be the soundtrack of his life, and your split-cheek smile the sun. Austin orbited around you. He woke up each morning when you did, eagerly getting himself dressed when he heard the creaking door to your own wardrobe just so that he could meet you out in the hall. Your doe-like eyes were still heavy with sleep, your cheeks an adorable warm shade of flushed that he wanted nothing more than to feel beneath his lips. 

Doctor Butler loved you to the point of constant pain. 

His chest was heavy with it.

[susoriginals]

Vintage gray Marble Mortar and Pestle 6" Wide Only $15

[littlecarnet]

Some gifts I got for myself were for my apothecary/tea trunk shown here. The new items are a white marble mortar and pestle, a wooden tray to transfer herbs to the little teakwood bowl, and wood spoons. A portable glass borosilicate tea kettle and flowering tea in rose and chamomile in cute glass vials. The teas and raw materials in the glass jars are from years of collecting from my own garden or wild foraged. The little booklet holds all my recipes and favorite mixes, and the white folded things are cotton teabags for infusions and such. Tea mixing is part of my self care rituals. The process of mixing, the smells, tastes, or using them in beauty products or medicine is satisfying.

Fun fact: Traditionally in my mother's culture, a young woman was taught basic herbal medicine as part of her skill set as an adult, which can also include embroidery, musical talent, poetry, leather working, wild foraging, budgeting the home and business, and in much older times, divination, astronomy, proficiency in using a weapon and falconry. It's said the more skills a woman knew, signified her family's high status and a higher dowry.

I have powdered incense like this already, but not the tools. These are a lovely brass. They'll get a lot of use this winter, when I typically use incense. Making incense is part of my self care rituals just like tea mixing. The process of milling herbs into powder to roll or turn into cones with makko powder, then to dry and burn later is very therapeutic.

My mom got me a Five Year Memory journal, something I spotted at a bookstore while we were shopping. The other gifts are things she collected for me leading up to my birthday. The bracelet is really pretty, made in Nepal and ceramic scarab charm. A brass African sun coin (a sun sign since I'm a Leo), a trilobite replica, and jewelers loupes.

Art supplies I got: A soft cover floral journal with a pen pouch, a mini sketchbook, a basic set of Daniel Smith split primary watercolor set, and a watercolor journal with watercolor pigment incorporated into the pages themselves!

I've eyed these for so long! These paints have been used in nearly every Ghibli film and a lot of other high profile studios in Japan. I've always wanted to try my hand at these. I heard they have properties of both watercolor and gouache.

[mothers-and-fuckers-of-the-jury]

As always, curses cannot be guaranteed to be lifted. Reblogs keep the wagon traveling through towns.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Eighteen

Back in Clontarf, I perch at the gleaming, marble island while Jude prepares dinner. I watch him doing it with undisguised interest, because he cooks the way that I imagine he makes art, fully absorbed, with precision and confidence, and completely and utterly in the flow of his own enjoyment. He connects his iPhone to a Bluetooth speaker and plays music for a while, until Ivy bursts in and complains that she can’t focus on her homework with all of the noise.

He switches it off for her, but even in the silence he moves around to the beat of the music in his head, with a smile on his face that only endures the more stupid questions I ask him about what he’s doing. He’s making a spice mix in a pestle and mortar, he’s coating the fillets in flour, that’s actually rose water, not vanilla, yes, he taught himself how to do this, those flowers are actually totally edible, they’re not just there to look good, so a shallot is actually stronger than an onion, that’s why he’s using it. He prepared a lot of it earlier, marinating fresh fish in harissa for hours, and par boiling the potatoes so that they’d be oven ready by the time we got home from visiting Jen, and when I ask him where he found the time to do all of this he explains that he was simply procrastinating, because he doesn’t want to write his thesis. 

We eat at the dining table with Ivy, who shovels the food into her mouth in the span of about five minutes despite her complaints about it tasting bad, and gives a series of very bored, one word answers to his questions about school in between mouthfuls. He reminds her that she should practise for her piano lesson tomorrow and tells her that he can’t collect her from afterschool hockey so she’ll have to get the bus. It occurs to me that this is perhaps the most un-sibling like relationship I’ve ever witnessed. Perhaps it’s a symptom of their age gap. 

“Where’re your parents tonight?” I query once Ivy rushes off to her bedroom to reconvene whatever teen girl things were interrupted by dinner, and he looks down at his plate. “Working late again.”

“Seems like they really like to work.”

“They sure do. Or they really like not having to be in this house.”

He’s said things like this to me before, these kind of vaguely troubling statements about his parents in very casual, matter of fact ways, as though they’re entirely absent and have no love for each other whatsoever, and this is something he finds normal. I’ve never asked him about it before, and something I’ve never quite been able to handle the idea of broaching, but now, since we’re… kind of, sort of going out with each other it suddenly feels important to know whether his expectations for his own relationships are different to his parents’ strange marriage.  

“What is it about them?”

“We don’t have to discuss these grim things about my family, it’s alright.”

“We don’t have to, but I think I’d like to know about it.”

He pushes his food thoughtfully around his plate. “They just shouldn’t have gotten married, I suppose. I think they meant well initially but it’s ultimately done more damage than good.” He glances towards the closed door and up towards the ceiling, where his sister is, and lowers his voice a little bit. “I think they’ll probably get a divorce as soon as Ivy finishes school.”

“Oh.”

“I’m the reason they’re married, and she’s the reason they’re still together. They had this amazing idea at one point that having another child would solve all of their issues, but now they’ve just trapped themselves in a bind for an extra nine years. They could be blissfully divorced by now, but they won’t do it until she’s moved out, because they don’t want to disrupt her schooling.” 

“How old were they when you were born?”

“Nineteen and twenty one.” 

“Oh, God.”

“Yep, big mistake. Whoops.” he tosses a chunk of potato into his mouth and leans back in his chair. “Mom finished school and went to stay with her aunt in America, took up a job at a department store in Albuquerque, hooked up with a med student at a bar on her first month there, and well…” He throws up his hands in mock celebration. “Here I am!”

“I suppose that being unmarried with a child wasn’t really an option for your mother at the time.” 

“No, not at all, I mean, she had come from catholic Ireland. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to live at home again unless she married the man from that bar.” The way he speaks about his father is strange, as though despite his presence in their lives, he’s still some random, nameless med student from San Bernardino. 

“And then what?” 

“Well, then my dad continued school, and my mom began her studies and my great aunt took care of me on and off until my dad got his doctorate degree. Then they had Ivy, on purpose, by the way, and when she was a baby we moved back here.” He shrugs. “That’s all.”

I breathe out a laugh. “You’re so cagey.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah it’s like you don’t want to talk about them, or your home life, like, ever.”

He doesn’t look like he’s all that bothered by my interrogation, he just gives me this self-effacing little smile. “Come on, Evie. It’s because this stuff is boring.” 

“I don’t think it’s boring at all.” 

“Well, okay. They didn’t want to be together, they shouldn’t have had kids, and they act like they never did because they barely parented either one of us. Has anyone ever told you that you’re bad at letting things drop?”

“Yeah, loads. Has anyone ever told you that you’re bad at talking about serious things?”

“Of course.” The corner of his mouth quirks up and he lifts my arm from the table to kiss the inner part of my wrist. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?”

“Yes, you. Tell me what it was like for you when you were growing up.” 

“I’ve told you loads about my childhood already though.” 

“Yeah, you have, and I loved hearing about how badly behaved you were and what it felt like to live in America, but I wish you’d get into the guts of it, the real stuff.”

“The real stuff?”

“The stuff that makes you so clearly sad. You get that look on your face whenever it comes up.”

He hasn’t let go of my wrist, and now his thumb is gently stroking the skin that he kissed a moment before while he stares out into the garden through streak-free glass patio doors, and he chews on his lip before deciding to speak. “Well, when Ivy was born I stopped being a kid, I suppose. My parents didn’t have a lot of interest in caring for either of us, and I was lucky, because my great aunt in Albuquerque did all of that for them when I was little, but when we moved here the support system really fell away. Nobody had considered that. We have my mom’s parents, but they’re about as warm as she is, and even though we’d be dumped over to theirs at the weekends, it wasn’t like we had especially fun or memorable times. Usually we’d get some bucket of crap toys from the seventies and whatever was on the three TV channels that they had. They were okay, but Ivy was a really nervous toddler. She didn’t like being around unfamiliar people, to the point that our grandmother would have to roll her bottles down the hallway to where she was hiding at the bottom of the stairs so that she’d drink anything at all. She just screamed whenever either of our grandparents came near her. It just wasn’t working out, so we eventually stopped having to go, and by then, when I was like eleven, it just made sense that I’d look after her instead.”

“What did that involve?”

“Everything. Feeding her, dressing her, putting her to bed, shopping for food, toys, eventually bringing her to the creche. She used to go to the childminders while I was at school, but only until I finished at three or four o’clock, and then I’d swing by and get her. A child collecting another child, like, I don’t know if they’d let that kind of thing happen anymore, but it was a small family run childminders, the kind of lawless place where they have this one old granny looking after about twelve children in her house and everything and anything goes. My mom used to come home and cook dinner for a while, but she was delighted when I got old enough to do that for her too. It meant she could stay out of the house for longer and do whatever she used to do. Have affairs or whatever.” He huffs out a laugh. “I mean, I really don’t know if that was ever the case but I wouldn’t be that surprised. Everything got really confined because of Ivy, you know? I always had to be home, and helping, and collecting and living my life on this schedule while all the other teenagers were just being blissfully selfish and… just teenagers.”

“But you had time to yourself, surely?”

“Yeah, at night when my parents were finally home from work, but I mean, yeah, it wasn’t about not having time to do hobbies or hang out with my friends, it was about having to do it at all. It was about having to consider those things. Nobody should have to parent their siblings, it was really stifling and really unfair. If my parents wanted another child then they should have been prepared to take care of her. You can’t just offload that responsibility onto the older child. I resented it, and I still do.”

I spear my fingers into the side of his hair and run my hand down the back of his head. “That’s why you went to Berlin.” 

“I just didn’t want to do it anymore.”

“You shouldn’t have ever had to.”

“Right.” He hesitates and his teeth rake over his lower lip, pulling the skin until it’s taut and white. “I just feel like going to Berlin was the most selfish thing I could have possibly done though.”

“No way.” I say. “It forced your parents to do what they should have been doing all along, and look after your sister.” 

“Yeah but it didn’t really do that. I look at Ivy now, and she’s doing a lot of those things I used to do for her all on her own. My parents never stepped up like I hoped they would, so she’s just becoming another teenager with too many responsibilities, and parents that will divorce as soon as they can and leave her without a solid base to come home to when she’s in college. And then, you know, on the other hand I think about Jen, and how bad everything has become for her and I know that if I’d stayed, and if I’d been here for her then maybe I could have-”

“It’s no use thinking that, Jude. You had to be on your own for once. You can’t hold up the whole world on your shoulders.”

“I’m selfish.” His voice is acidic, and the moment I feel his fingers loosen on me I grab a hold of his sleeve, because all of a sudden it feels vitally important to keep a connection between us.

“You didn’t get a proper childhood. I’d be even more selfish if I were you. You need to be doing the things that you want to do, seeing the world, partying with your friends, all of that stuff that you’ve been doing for the last four years. It’s all food for your soul.” 

“You’re too forgiving of me. It’s okay to say that I’ve been generally inconsiderate.”

“You’re way too hard on yourself.” I say quietly. “And you know that’s not true. You’re a good person, and you were always so nice to me, even when I was quiet and shy. You made an effort to talk to me at that time that Jen invited me to that modern art exhibition in Dublin, and you made me feel so included and asked so many questions about me even though I felt so nervous around you both.”

“I feel like that’s the least anyone could have done.” He says sulkily, as though he doesn’t really feel like being talked out of his mood. “The more I dwell on it the more I think there is something seriously wrong with me. Something that should have been figured out a lot earlier, but like, here I am, a twenty two year old, in the final months of my final year at college and I feel a bit… I dunno, lost, or something. I’m floundering, and I don’t really know who I am anymore. I swore I had it figured out at eighteen but now that seems laughable to me.”

“Nobody tells you how weird it is to be in your twenties.” I declare. “They insist that it’s amazing and fun and you’ll have all of this independence, but actually it feels strange and vulnerable, and there’s no rule book about how to navigate your way through it. One day you’re a stupid teenager and the next you live on your own and you have to know how to use the city bus and remember the pin of a debit card.”

“Yeah.” 

“It’s alright that you find it hard, is all I’m saying, and I for one, feel like I truly knew nothing about being an adult. To be honest sometimes I get a bit freaked out by how lost I feel. But then I try not to think about it, and I just go on with my day.”

“That’s your advice?” He says, with the hint of a smile threatening to crack through the gloom. “Just don’t think about it?”

“Probably shouldn’t be, should it?”

“I think that’s terrible advice, Evie.”

“Well that’s all I have for you.”

He leans into me and lightly kisses my jaw before going back to his food, and the featherlight touch of his lips sends shivers right down to my toes. “Well I think we should think about hard things.” He says. “I think that ignoring them only gives them more power, actually.”

“Maybe some things aren’t meant to be processed now. They’re meant for later.”

“How much later?”

“I don’t know. Just later.” I push the last of my dinner onto my fork and into my mouth and try not to feel self-conscious about the fact that he’s watching me like I’m under a spotlight. 

“I just want you to know that if you ever wanted to talk to me about any of the things that happened you in first year then-”

My chair makes a hideous scraping noise against the parquet floor. “Do you have any pictures of you when you were small?” I say, wiping my hands on the thighs of my jeans, and he blinks. “Um. Why?”

“Just when we were talking about your childhood, like,” I stack his empty plate on top of mine. “I was wondering to myself what you might have looked like as a little boy. That’s all.”

“There are some, somewhere yeah. I can root them out if you want.”

“I’d love that, would you mind?” I hastily pack things away in the dishwasher, and I put the plates in crookedly, and I can’t find where the cutlery goes, and Jude is there, and he takes the forks out of my hands and gingerly places them into the sink. 

“It’s fine. Leave it.” He says. “Come into the living room, I’ll get the baby photos out.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[aliguriantrip]

TO CARRARA, ITS MOUNTAINS AND ITS WOMEN

Ever since I watched Charlton Heston looking for inspiration in The Agony & The Ecstasy, I’ve been fascinated by the mountains and the marble of Carrara. There’s always been something mystical about it, but as I found out yesterday, there is so much more to this town near the coast of NW Italy.

We took a train from Sestri Levante to Carrara, to spend the day with some good friends who happen to live there. (Katherine gave me & continues to give so much help with my writing. If you haven’t read her latest book, The Maiden of Florence, you really must. A true #metoo story of the 16th C.) But I digress…

They entertained us in a delightful restaurant on the Massa coast, then took us on a drive through those magnificent mountains. The blue/grey marble has been mined here for centuries. The Romans called it Luna marble. Sadly, as with any natural resource, it is dwindling, and there is estimated to be only around 100 years of marble remaining.

Of course, I had to come home with a souvenir, so we stopped at a workshop way off the tourist trail. I chose a mini pestle and mortar. There is only so much marble you can take on an EasyJet flight!

Back in the town, Katherine and her husband Carmine took us around the side streets and main sights. They are so knowledgeable about the history of the area. I only picked up a fraction of the information they shared, but what a place!

Their cathedral (Duomo) is like no other that I’ve seen in Italy. No decoration - just plain stone - but so striking!

It also boasts a lovely fresco, which is hidden behind a hinged painting.

Dating back to the quarry workers of centuries past, there developed an anarchic mindset, which has carried through to today. The International Federation of Anarchists was founded here in 1968, and there are signs of this in the graffiti around the town.

The story that fascinated me was that of Francesca Rolla and the women of Carrara, who stood up to the occupying German troops in July 1944. Under threat of execution, they gathered in the square and refused to leave their town. Against these women, the Germans relented. Francesca is immortalised in a large fresco in the piazza.

Oh, that we would all be as brave as these Carrarese women!

A fascinating place that I need to learn more about, and a lovely day with lovely people.

Today…back to the pool!

[star-spacer]

Let's Go Fishing!

Adashino x reader x Ginko (can be read as platonic or romantic)

You and the boys take a dip in the river. When you're half yokai and have inhuman reflexes, a few fishes aren't a problem for you.

Summer heat was the worst heat.

Second only to the heat of drought-dried reeds going up in flames and the burning tinder of beloved houses, the summer heat pressed down upon everything, rendering the far-off mountain tops into hazy, quivering mirages. Your yukata stuck to your skin uncomfortably as you shifted from your spot on the wooden floor. The rhythmic pounding of Ginko’s mortar and pestle sounded through the air and you groaned, turning your head to look at him.

“How can you stand to work in this heat?”

“‘M used to it,” he grunted. “One time I went with a guy to chase down a rainbow. This was during that heatwave we had a while ago so we had to travel during the hottest time of the day to catch up to the rainclouds.”

“Yikes,” you muttered. “Can’t imagine doing that at all.”

Ginko tilted his head, one single emerald eye looking at you through the haze of his cigarette smoke. “Then what’d you do during the heatwave then?”

You grinned lazily at him, swiping the sweaty baby hairs off your forehead. “Why I slept, of course! I’d find some river bank, a nice shady tree, and I’d sleep in its branches.”

“Wish all of us would have that luxury,” he grunted, lifting the pestle and tapping it against the side of the marble pestle. Fine golden grains shifted around as he tilted it into a vial, carefully scraping the powder into it with a stiff reed. Once done, he plugged it up with a cork and searched for something around him. Spotting your lazy form sprawled out where you were, he pointed to a stack of labels next to you.

Ginko pointed at them. “Hey, can you hand me those?”

A flick of your fingers summoned a gust of wind, sending the paper fluttering past you and toward the Mushishi. They danced around his form and he deftly plucked them from the air, swiping a brush and ink from his cabinet and popping the ink bottle open. With a deft hand, the mystery vial soon received a label as he wrote it on the paper you sent.

“What’s that?” You hummed.

“Pollen from flowers that the Usobuki frequent,” Ginko hummed. The familiar name was that of the butterfly mushi he told you about, one that would make those afflicted by it fall asleep with it until a false spring started. 

It was the same one responsible for the summer and spring that he went missing in when you search until your feet bled and your voice gave out from yelling his name. So hearing that he was dealing with it again made your hackles raise, a dangerous look on your face.

Ginko didn’t notice, too busy tucking the bottom away into his little medicine cabinet. “The mushi itself puts people to sleep but I discovered that if a small dose of the flower pollen is taken with water, it could be an effective sleep remedy, especially for mushi-related problems.”

“I see.” The thought of a sleeping draught sounded appealing because, despite all the jokes you make about naps, any semblance of sleep for you was haunted by memories you’d rather forget. You opened your mouth, almost tempted to ask him for a bit but hesitated.

Ginko glanced at you, a verdant eye picking up the expression on your face. “Hm?”

“I–”

The shoji door slammed open, Adashino behind it using his foot to move the screen. “Drinks here.”

You did a complete shift, hiding your turmoil as you cheered and flipped over to your front, thin yukata riding up to what would’ve been an indecent length if you were an upstanding citizen in society. Adashino didn’t say anything but groaned as he set down the tray and sat next to you. Ginko snuffed out the cigarette, allowing the smoke to waft away so it wouldn’t bother you before shuffling closer. Though it still lingered on his person as he sat down with you and Adashino, it thankfully didn’t bother you like usual.

The dark-haired man took off his lens and began polishing the circle of glass.“I knew it would get hot so I put some amazake in to chill in the icebox. There’s also ice in there too.”

“Thanks, Adashino! Maybe we can have some cold soba later then.” Propping your head up in one arm, you reached for the cups filled with the fermented rice liquid as the other did too. The creamy, sweet taste of the drink filled your mouth as you took a sip and you sighed happily. “Ahh, Ginko, what’s the use of going at each other’s throats about who’s doing what in the heat when it’s Adashino who’s the privileged one? He’s got a nice big house and an icebox of all things.”

“Being a doctor, and living by the waterfronts has its perks,” Adashino replied dryly. “I do say that you two are always welcomed to stay here.”

Ginko simply took a pointed, obnoxious sip of his rice drink, letting the noise draw out in the hazy air. You snorted and Adashino shot a dirty look at you both. Quiet filled the hot air as everyone settled down to enjoy their drinks, accompanied by the sounds of nature around you all. Every breath you took filled your lungs with uncomfortable warmth and you cursed the neverending sun.

The calmness of the summer day brought back long-faded memories of your mother teaching you how to fish in the stream, helping fight off the heat and simultaneously bringing food home for the day. The thought of cooling down made you give a wistful sigh as you finally sat up. “I could go for a dip right now…”

Then the thought hit you and you gasped, sitting up straigh and making the other two look at you with startled–if not slightly irritated–expressions.

You pushed your sweaty hair back from your face, eyes alight in excitement. “The fishermen should be done for the day, right? Then we won’t be bothering anybody if we go to the river to cool off then. You also said you wanted to get some fish for later so I can catch some too.”

Ginko raised his eyebrow. “We don’t have a boat though.”

“I can swim,” you volunteered excitedly. “I would love to be in the water right now.”

Adashino leaned back on his arms, a thoughtful look on his face. “Hmmm… I think that’ll be alright. Besides, I won’t mind spending a little time in the water.”

You popped to your feet excitedly, eagerness overtaking the sluggish haze of the heat.

“Come on! My mom–I was taught how to fish when I was younger. With the fish that the Suiko’s body brought in, I can promise we’ll have fish in no time.”

“The river is calm this time of year…” Adashino agreed. “I wouldn’t mind soaking my feet for a while.”

Both of you turned your expectant gaze onto Ginko, who gave a long-suffering sigh and knocked back the last dredges of his drink before slamming the wooden cup back down onto the tray. “Never say I don’t do anything for you two.”

Cheering, you swooped down to gather up the cups into the tray to whisk them away, prancing ahead of the males as they slowly got up from their spots. The sun beat down upon you again as you moved to the front of the house to wait for them. Thankfully, you stood under the engawa so most of the heat was kept off as you fixed your yukata.

“Hurry up, you two!!!”

“Coming.”

In a few short moments, both Ginko and Adashino joined you, the latter with a woven straw hat on his head as he handed a shallow basket to the white-haired man. The three of you made your way down the path to Adashino’s residence, greeting the occasional villagers who passed by. It wasn’t a long walk to the beach, but the three of you opted for a detour to a more secluded area by the river deeper into the forest. But that meant that by the time you reached your destination, sweat had begun to stain your dark yukata. Maroon was not a good color in the heat, no matter how much you liked the color.

“At last,” you sighed, flopping down on the grass beneath a dappled shade of a tree.

“Tell me why we like to go here when we have a perfectly good beach at a much shorter distance?” Ginko sighed as he set down the basket.

“We’d roast alive if we went out there in this sun,” Adashino replied.

You sat up, sharp eyes scanning the water and spotting the almost imperceptible flickers of scales underneath the surface. A sharp grin spread over your face as you stood up, pulling up your sleeves and rolling them back. “Water’s shallower here and the fishes like to stay in the coverage. I can catch them easier.”

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, sighing out deeply as your fingers came up to press over the lids of your eyes. The telltale smell of ozone filled the air as your magic activated. For a moment, your full visage was revealed and you heard Ginko and Adashino shifting behind you. Black fox ears flashed into existence, hung low on either side of your head, a flicker of unearthliness surrounding you. Then they disappeared. With any other person you would not have allowed the thought of letting your true appearance show, but your trust in the two males was unshakable. You knew there was nothing that would make them betray your trust out of their own free will.

A moment passed and then you took your fingers away from your eyes, turning around to blink at the two as the golden glow faded away from your eyes. 

“Everyone okay?”

“What did you use your magic for?” Ginko asked.

You kicked your sandals off. “To keep the debris out of my eyes.”

Keeping an eye on the river in front of you, you began stepping into the cool flowing waters. Before you can get far, your shoulder was grabbed and you jolted.

“Wait.”

Ginko had walked in after you, his face serious. A single, piercing green eye looked into yours.

You tilted your head. “Yes?”

“How are you sure it’s safe?”

Realizing his concern for what it was, you relaxed and gave him an easy smile, hand raising up to pat the one on your shoulder. “I’ve gone into this part of the river before during worse conditions. In fact, this part is one of the safest areas of the river, I made sure of it before showing it to you guys.”

You had met a local river yokai around here to help it save some of the members of its family. A grateful family, a game of stone skipping, and a favor later ensured that this area would be in their blessing and be safe for you and those you brought with you.

Despite your reassurances, his eyes roved over the still surface behind you. “Hm.”

“I’ll be fine, Ginko. I’m a very good swimmer,” you said, patient with him as you shared a look with Adashino. Though you weren’t there for the event itself, you had arrived just days after the event with the Suiko had gone down and had heard Io’s story in its entirety. The race to catch a girl who swam with the swamp and bountiful fish that lasted till this day. You were also there in the aftermath with Adashino, seeing Ginko’s haunted looks as he regarded the waters around him.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not hide his demons from one who was considered a half-demon too.

“If anything happens, I’ll shout for you alright? I won’t go far.”

“We can stick in the shallows, Ginko. Just in case,” Adashino said from his spot leaning up against the tree. “There isn’t anything large in these waters so we’ll be the most dangerous fish around.”

Ginko finally let go of you, sighing. “Be careful.”

You short him a reassuring grin, turning to wade deeper into the water. Your dark yukata spread out around you, wine red against the sparkling water. Behind you, you heard the two splashing around against the shore, but they did not follow you. Slowly, the water rose to waist level, and then a bit more. You went out until you reached the middle of the river, treading water as you turned around.

“I’m going down now. Get the basket ready!”

There was an affirmative call and you waited until you saw Adashino fetch the item, giving you a nod from across the bank. Giving the two males a wave, you took a deep breath and dove under the water.

The world silenced, cutting away into the dull, muffled noise of water rushing overhead. You drifted in the peace for a moment before opening your eyes.

Another world greeted you, blue-tinted and sparkling with sunbeams filtering down from above. It fluttered with the creatures down here, a dance of life.

You wondered if this was what Ginko saw when he talked of the Koumyaku, the glittering, living river of light.

A silver streak flashed by the corner of your vision and you snapped your head to it. A school of fish, unaware of the danger now within their mist. A slow grin stretched across your face, teeth losing their human flatness as your heart picked up in anticipation of the hunt. 

Thank you for this offering.

Like the silt of the river, your illusion slipped away in the flowing streams of the water. Your dark form sliced through the water, chasing after the fish. Nails, too sharp to belong to a normal human, swiped at glittering, silver-scaled bodies and snatched them up faster than they could react. Once you hand a handful of squirming fish by the tails, you shot off towards the bank. Surfacing with a gasp and a splash, you waved at them with the fish dangling from your grip.

“Hey! I got them!”

“Bring them in!”

You began kicking off towards the pair, slower now that you had to rely mostly on your legs. Adashino and Ginko began wading out to meet you too and a brilliant idea hit you. As your toes touched the bottom of the river, you reared back a fish in hand as the remainings were moved to your other one.

“Catch!”

Adashino’s eyes widened as the fish went sailing through the air. He yelped, lunging forward with his basket to let the fish flop down into it. Thankfully, Ginko’s hand snapped out to grab him by the back of Adashino’s yukata and his quick action prevented the dark-haired man and the fish from toppling down into the water. But unfortunately, that still soaked the entire front of his clothes

Adashino glared at you, front of his blue yukata now dripping. “Hey!”

“Oops–Sorry!” You laughed, totally unrepentant as you waded closer. The rest of the fish–thankfully–was gently placed into the basket. You faced both of them, hands on your hips as you regarded the pair. “It’s only a bit of water, y’know. It’ll help you cool off more if anything.” 

A drop of water trailed down your face from your dripping wet hair right after that statement.

“Yeah, yeah,” Adashino grumbled as he moved to hang the basket from the branches so it could trail in the water. That freed up his hands to fix his water-laden yukata, futilely wringing the fabric.

“Heh, heh. You can’t deny it does feel nicer though…” You turned to Ginko, who immediately picked up the shift in your person.

His lidded eye widened, taking a step back.

You launched at him, hands outstretched and water spraying out behind you as you splashed toward the male.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey leave me alone—”

“Adashino catch him! He’s the driest out of all of us!!”

“Adashino don’t you dare.”

Your bright laughter and splashing filled the air as the three off you ran around the quiet alcove meant just for you three and you were grateful to have another day like this with them.

[stabbynunchuckss]

please reblog for more answers!! <3