#Even the art museum seems rather small.

[kodigobacktosleep]

It sucks not being into hiking because so much of "What to do in Utah" is so hiking focused.

[aklaustaleteller]

An Unofficial Date

Klaus has had a certain starry-eyed girl on his mind, so when he walks into a museum, not at all with the hope of finding her inside, he can't help but strike up a conversation, which might've just led to Y/n agreeing to see him again.

Warnings - none that I can think of!

Word Count - 1.6k

Masterlist | Please reblog the work to share!

Been writing something that has had me researching left, right, and center! So I thought that while I worked on that one, I'd write a quick little something to freshen up a tad. Hope you enjoy a giddy Klaus hahah!

On a random, foggy Tuesday morning, Klaus found himself taking a quick stroll to the new Art Museum that had appeared out of nowhere in Mystic Falls. Well, for him anyways, for he hadn't come across the building in the months that he had been existing in the small town.

But one couldn't fault him for that, seeing that he had been so busy messing with a group of teenagers, or rather – with a couple of centuries old vampires, a newborn werewolf, and even a newfound witch, should he say.

But what took up most of his time was this starry-eyed girl with whom his eyes always seemed to meet whenever they were in the same room. That was all he got, though. The chance to look into her eyes for a fleeting second before she was shifting her gaze onto something else, leaving him breathless and wanting for more.

He never caught her name, or even a smile. Each time he saw her, he had been in search for a muse. And each time, she succeeded in sending a surge of creativity flowing through his entire being that consumed him so fully that he would race home and embrace that rush of adrenaline until he needed more.

Then, he would go out to steal another glance at her. The problem was, he hadn't been seeing her around for a week now. And he was anxious that she might've left the town, for she was the type of person whose absence went unnoticed for all but those who'd even once shared her company.

So, he felt a bit hopeful since he hadn't heard of Damon or Bonnie complaining about their loss of time with her. But he was also dreadful, wanting nothing more than to meet with her again knowing that this time he wouldn’t miss the chance to speak to her.

If Klaus had to be honest, he'd confess that the sole reason he was even heading to the museum was because he had a feeling that this could be one of the places he'd find her.

On his walk, he came across wildflowers and rose bushes, a couple of pinecones and a odd looking lemon tree, that stood lonely in midst of all the fog that had settled around it. And Klaus wondered if she paid attention to such details, if he should pick out a rose in case he did come across her? But he settled on not doing that, since that would surely give him away instantly.

He strolled through the corridors, sparing each art piece a single glance because he couldn't feel the emotions of looking at them for the first time and the curiousity of trying to unwind the stories in them due to his ages old knowledge that proved the collection in this museum to be quite poor.

There were a few people inside, a few dreamers scattered throughout the place, either sitting on the floor, sketching out what they could see in the painting or standing as if trying to count the stars, their eyes set on complicated pieces that pretentiously twisted the wires of their brains.

His eyes were wandering, and he was people watching now, rather than looking at the art that hung in frames. Which is how, there was a stutter in the search of his eyes when he caught sight of someone sitting against a wall opposite a painting, dressed in something quite vintage with a bowl of blackberries in their lap. A smile threatened to slip on his mouth.

He suppressed it though, looking at the ground to wait-out the disappearance of his blush before he squared his shoulders.

"Hello there," Klaus smiled, looking down at her and nodding when he had her attention. "Think I've seen you around?"

She broke a smile then, a small frown settling between her brows. "Hi, and …think I’ve witnessed a couple instances myself!" She laughed, her palm twitching awkwardly as she battled whether she should continue to eat, offer him some or wipe her stained hands on her thrifted dress.

She offered him to sit beside her instead, and then offered him her snack.

"Why thank you," Klaus murmured, his heart racing inside his chest the moment he caught a whiff of her perfume.

"I'm Niklaus, by the way."

She looked at him intriguingly, swallowing as she nodded to herself. "That's a nice name," she admitted. "Any meaning behind it?"

Klaus looked away, pretending to look at the painting in front of them in order to hide the sudden blood-rush to his face.

"Yes, yes it does," he said. "It comes from a Greek word, um, Nikolaos, I think? Means victory of the people."

"Well, I'm Y/n," she extended her clean hand out and Klaus shook it, electricity coursing through his being.

He sighed and locked his arms around his knees.

"So, Y/n," he tasted her name on his tongue and right away, wanted more of it. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing special, been writing a thesis lately. Came here for a break and some change of scenery," she shrugged.

"A thesis?" Klaus asked, feeling intrigued and when she nodded nonchalantly, he felt baffled. "On what, if you don't mind me asking?"

She was smiling bashfully now, looking down at the remaining blackberries. "You'll laugh," she said.

"And why would that be?"

She clenched her eyes shut. "Because it's on hotels," she raced to say, peeking at him with one eye to see his reaction. He wasn't laughing so she looked at him properly, dumbfounded, noting that his expression was the same as before, if not more interested.

"Tell me more about it," Klaus asked, leaning his head on his knee to look at her.

She was blushing, and Klaus made a mental note to try and get the shade right on his canvas when he went back home.

"Well, it's going to be a tangent, so don't complain, okay?" She looked at him warily. He blinked softly, urging her on and she felt something shift between them.

"You asked for this," she sighed, and he chuckled, picking up another berry as she turned so that she was facing him, sitting cross-legged with a straight back.

She went on then, and Klaus was absorbing every single word that she was saying along with her wild hand-gestures that he felt like were going to hit him at some point. He noticed the sparkle in her eyes doubling-up as she talked about something she clearly felt passionate about.

Her cheeks had grown slightly red, and her mouth was stained by the blackberries. She mentioned how she had an even softer spot for haunted houses and hotels, making him grin with her.

It felt vulnerable for some reason, and Klaus' heart felt like it was growing inside of his chest.

She was spilling for him all of the research she had done so far, and it was admirable how well she was doing at explaining to him all of it. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to look at the hotels the same way again, knowing now the way she looked at them.

And he knew that he was going to pester her again sometime and ask her about the gold chain that she wore, in the middle of which hung a glass globe that held something in the shape of a star preserved inside it. He had a feeling that everything that adorned her body held some meaning to it for her. 

"And I think that's all I've got on it, so far anyways," she finished with a deep breath, looking at him with a big grin on her face. She had lipstick on her bottom teeth, or maybe it was just the berrie’s stain; Klaus looked away.

"I think I have a newfound soft-spot for hotels now," Klaus sighed, straightening his back and leaning against the wall, craning his neck to look at her.

"I'm so very glad to hear that," she chuckled. "My apologies for talking your ear off, but hey, you asked for it!"

"I've got a feeling that I might ask for it again," he winked, and she looked away immediately, the corners of her mouth lifted up.

"Can't be now because I need to get going," she shrugged, checking her wristwatch whose leather band was beginning to wither off.

"Sure, think I wasted some of your time there," grinning sheepishly, Klaus rubbed the back of his neck.

But she laughed as she packed away her book and the empty container back into her bag. "No, Klaus, thank you for listening," she said, genuinely.

"Anytime," Klaus muttered shyly, watching as she got up and waved him goodbye.

Klaus waved back with a wistful smile, watching her walk away when he suddenly realised.

"When will I see you again?" He shouted, ignoring the incredulous looks he got from the strangers. He slipped his hands in his pockets and shrugged when she turned around to look at him with wide eyes.

"I love taking evening walks around the neighbourhood," she said at a normal volume, and Klaus heard her just right.

He was going to be delusional and tell him himself that today had been an unofficial date, maybe he'd ask her out for an official one when he saw her the next time.

He nodded at her, giving her a salute as he rolled on the toe and then the heels of his feet, grinning shamelessly as she laughed and walked away, sparing him one last glance before turning around the corner, out of his sight but not once out of his mind.

[literatureloverx]

Hello! This is my first time asking anything so, sorry if this doesn’t make any sense. I love the way you write & your ideal type for Fyodor. I was curious, how would he have met his ideal type? I understand if you’re busy! Thank you

Hello dear!♥️ You’re not bothering at all, and I’m so happy that I’m the person you chose for your first request.♥️

I’m sorry it took me so long, and I hope you enjoy reading it!♥️

Fyodor likely saw you in a serene and sophisticated setting, such as a café, a theatre, a library, or a museum. I chose the Musée Fabre for this scenario.♥️

Religious themes, art interpretations, intrigued and manipulative Fyodor.

“A Beauty to Behold”

You move a loose strand away from your face, which reveals your small, innocent face.

Fyodor’s gaze lingers on you for a few moments longer, an odd thought crossing his mind: no one else seems to notice you. You were beautiful, undeniably so, and that alone was captivating. Yet the fact that others failed to acknowledge you, as if blind to the art before them, only heightened your allure, drawing his attention to you even more.

You, a beautiful young woman, dressed in fine stilettos and a figure-hugging, midi-length crème dress, holding a coat and a small bag of the same color in your arms, appeared to be the only one genuinely interested in the art before you—reading the text beside it and admiring the piece for more than five minutes now. ‘The Fallen Angel’ by Alexandre Cabanel.

He takes a calm stride toward you, coming to a halt just beside you—like a predator, one might think. His cool aura contrasts sharply with your warmth.

Fyodor moves a little closer to observe you more clearly, studying the way you react to the painting and the little facial expressions that appear on your beautiful features while you’re deep in thought.

After a moment, he hums, his voice light and charming.

“What do you make of this one, miss?” His eyes rest on the painting itself.

You look at him with your doe eyes, widened slightly as his approach seems to have come unexpectedly. You seem like an introverted person, and rather shy.

He finds himself intrigued by the sight of such innocence and naivety, and he can’t help the slight, cold smirk that spreads on his lips.

An unrealistically handsome man, tall and dressed in a dark suit that mirrors the intensity of his gaze, stands before you. It takes you a few moments to find your voice, but when you do, your words come softly.

“When I look at it, I feel the weight of what it means to turn away from God’s light. The angel, once so radiant and close to God, now sits alone, his face full of sorrow and defiance….”

You pause for a brief moment. “….it does not make me feel less empathetic towards the angel that is depicted in the painting. Because he does not embody the true evil that is the devil.”

Fyodor listens attentively, his smirk softening into a small, more genuine smile. Your words are not only intriguing but also reveal a certain depth and maturity. His gaze glides over you again, taking in the details of your face and figure in a subtle, nonchalant way.

“It's truly interesting, and also curious to hear someone not just throw around shallow, superficial phrases but instead look at the painting at a deeper, more analytical level, isn't it?”

“Are you in agreement with my opinion, sir?”

You say softly, with a shy undertone, subtly analysing his fine features. Clearly intrigued in your own, feminine, adorable way.

A quiet, gentle chuckle leaves Fyodor's mouth. Your shy, innocent manner of speaking and acting amuses and delights him, and he likes the way you’re looking at him, even if your gaze is shy, almost a tad timid. When he speaks, there's a slight hint of playfulness in his voice, though his sharp eyes never leave your pretty features for a second.

“That depends. Are you expecting praise, my dear?”

This was something that you did not expect, which makes you blush softly.

“Oh, I wasn't...”

You stutter.

“I…was...just asking if you agree with me.”

You recover quickly. “Do you have an opposite statement you would make?”

A smirk appears on Fyodor's lips again at the sight of your blushing and stuttering, and suddenly, he's very much enjoying this conversation. He can't put his finger on it, but there's something about this. About you. Something that is new. A lovely young woman that draws him in, makes him want to keep talking to her.

He lets out a small hum before he answers your question, his deep, melodic voice barely above a murmur.

“No, miss. I think you're absolutely correct.”

Your eyes widen, as if saying, 'you do?’. You look at the painting again, and then at Fyodor. He seems rather cold, calculating, analysing, looking into your soul, piercing through your comfort zone by playing a game of cat and mouse, in an almost nonchalant way.

He must be either bored or lonely.

“And you have nothing to add, sir?”

He shakes his head, his smirk fading into a small smile as he continues to study you, both amused and intrigued by how genuinely interested you seem in his opinion.

Your voice is so soft and sweet, he feels himself drawn to you without even realising it, the desire to prolong your conversation suddenly appearing in his head.

He can tell that you’re alone—a sweet, beautiful person like you, all by yourself in this grand museum, pursuing your passion. He figured out most of this —and more— within the first few minutes of meeting you.

The corner of Fyodor's lips curls up into a very subtle, almost mischievous-looking smile. He likes how you want to extend the conversation, and he decides to play along, simply because the thought of leaving you, this charming, beautiful young woman, alone does not please him.

He takes a step closer, now standing right next to you as he looks at the painting as well, his eyes roaming over the colors and shapes that create a fascinating composition.

“Well, I suppose I could say a few more things. Would you be interested in hearing them?”

You nod softly. “Yes, please do.”

Fyodor is satisfied to see that you seem to desire more, and he can’t help but let his gaze flit from the painting back to you, lingering on the soft features of your lovely face for a moment before he speaks again.

His deep voice is as melodic as before, but it’s clear that he’s more interested in you than in the art at the moment—a fact only he is aware of, something you could never tell.

“You're already correct when you say the angel does not embody true malice, but I think, in order to understand the pain and defiance on his face, it's important to look at what has led to his downfall.”

“You mean to say... the rebellion?”

He nods, a sly, almost mischievous smirk appearing on his lips once more with how he watches your reactions to his words, enjoying seeing you paying so much attention to his point of view.

Everything about you is sweet, and Fyodor is slowly becoming more and more intrigued, wanting to see more of it the longer you talk.

It is truly strange. He feels a certain way, and his frozen heart does not seem to keep up with this feeling.

“Precisely, my dear. The fallen angel chose to go against the Creator. That's what caused his downfall. His choice, no one else's.”

You nod thoughtfully, whispering softly.

“One is responsible for whatever one does. Only strong minds can withstand the corruption of the seven deadly sins… but no one can truly escape them, because being human means having weaknesses. One could say that human beings are sinful and foolish, for they cannot help but be corrupted. But then again… that is what makes them human. Being human is not a sin.”

The quiet, barely audible sound of your voice is like music to his ears, and his smile widens slightly at your words. You clearly possess a wisdom and intelligence that goes beyond your age, and this makes the interest and amusement he feels for you only grow. You’re so… proper.

You make for a far more interesting conversation than any intellectual or even philosophical topic he could go on about with other individuals. You lack his level of intellect, sure, but he can’t deny that you’re not someone who bores him.

Rather than challenging him, you present an understanding of his own perspective, which is more comforting than threatening. Something he is not used to. Not naive, but simply pure.

A power so few people have. An objective view on the matter of humanity.

His smirk turns sharp, and the subtle mischief in his eyes is more obvious as he continues looking at you while speaking.

“So very true, my dear. To fall... is your own choice indeed.”

You smile sweetly at him, your gaze demure and soft with intrigue.

“It is not common for me to find someone who shares my views.” You say gently.

“I heard interpretations about his tragic beauty, contrasting with the sorrow and defiance in his expression, symbolising the consequences of pride and ambition. It's often seen as a romanticised portrayal of Lucifer's fall, emphasizing themes of rebellion, loss, and the fragility of even the most exalted beings.”

You look at the painting. “But it never seemed enough to me.”

He hums in thought, allowing his gaze to flicker from your delicate features to the painting and back again as he listens to what you have to say.

Your words are eloquent, and they show an intelligence and depth of understanding that even people a lot older than you are lacking.

And yet, there is still something so innocent and sweet about you, something that makes him want to see those beautiful doe eyes of yours looking up at him in awe... He has to suppress a small chuckle, keeping his voice in a tone just as soft as yours is.

“So it seemed insufficient to you?”

“No one ever truly depicts the true evil in its pure form, don't you think? It was not easy to understand. The idea of there being a true, pure evil. I believe that is why so many people are romanticising it…”

You gaze at Fyodor. “…Because they can’t understand that he is simply, purely, evil. He chose to defy God and rebel—not out of altruistic ambitions, but because of his pride. He’s no human. He should’ve known better.”

You smile sweetly. “But it is nice to know that at least someone agrees with me.”

His smirk returns, and his expression turns sharp as he leans towards you ever so subtly, his deep voice still as soft and melodic as ever, though the slight mocking tone in his words is clear.

Ah, so you crave attention and approval from someone more capable of seeing what others cannot? How very cute. Not that he didn’t already figure that out.

“I couldn't agree more, miss...?”

You say your name softly. “…a pleasure to meet you, mister...?”

You extend your hand towards him in a warm, friendly manner. Fyodor takes it, your hand slender and delicate in his larger, paler one.

His grip is firm but gentle, as though afraid of breaking you. That is unlike him—he is used to breaking and destroying things.

And yet, there is something about you that makes him feel at ease. Your touch is almost like a relief. A sense of serenity in this twisted world.

The smirk on his lips never leaves, and for a moment he holds your hand a second too long, enjoying the feel of your soft skin underneath his fingers.

“Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

The chemistry between you two could almost be felt from a hundred miles away.

“…Mister Dostoevsky,” you say softly.

He hums, the way you say his name causing his smirk to fade into a small smile—the first one that is truly and fully genuine.

Your voice is even more lovely when his name falls from your lips, and he can tell you’re not just another pretty young woman who pretends to have some knowledge about the topics discussed—not when just the way you pronounce his name makes a pleasant shiver run down his spine.

He gently lets go of your hand, although reluctantly, and his eyes never leave your pretty face as he continues speaking.

“You’re not a local if I’m hearing the right accent, are you, miss?”

“Yes, I’m not. I’m (any heritage). And you are… Russian?” you ask softly.

He nods, his eyes never leaving hers as he gazes at your innocently curious expression. You’re so open, so pure and genuine in the way you speak and present yourself, and it amuses and fascinates him in a way he can’t quite describe as he listens to your soft, melodic voice.

“Russian, indeed. I take it it’s rather obvious?”

You giggle softly. “The accent, yes, but the name says it all.”

He lets out a quiet, deep chuckle at the sound of your soft laughter, the corners of his lips curled up into a small smile. He likes your laugh and your voice, how gentle and sweet you are. It is like a fresh breeze.

“Ah, I was correct, then. You truly know more than the average young person.”

“I learned a little bit of Russian at home—that is why—because I enjoyed reading Russian literature, but I’m afraid it’s not good enough for me to present it to the ears of a native speaker…”

You sound shy. He can’t help the way he smiles at the thought of you trying to learn his language, and the fact that you’re doing it out of interest in his nation’s literature makes it only sweeter.

You truly are an interesting young lady, and the more he learns about you, the more your innocently demure appearance and your shy behavior intrigue him. He’s well-schooled enough to keep it hidden behind his polite smile.

“I would be delighted to hear you try, darling.”

You look shyly at him, seemingly regretting having admitted that you know a little Russian, stuttering:

“I—I’d r-rather not…”

Fyodor’s smile only grows at seeing your shy, embarrassed reaction. You truly are adorable, blushing and stuttering as you try to get out of speaking. He decides to have mercy on you.

“Very well, if you’re not comfortable doing so, I won’t pressure you.”

His eyes continue to study you, and he still has a hard time figuring out what it is about you that makes him want to continue this conversation.

You sigh softly, preparing yourself to bid this interesting stranger goodbye with your innocent gaze.

Oh dear, he can read you all too well.

“Mister Dostoevsky—”

“A moment, my dear.”

You are flustered because he seems to have such a sharp mind, which is both thrilling and unnerving in a positive way. The way he could tell that you were trying to leave without giving a real sign is truly admirable—and somewhat creepy, but you were too dazzled by him to know any better.

“I’m listening, Mister Dostoevsky.”

“There will be a party of artists and intellectuals in a few days, here at the opera. One of the more important ones, it is. I would enjoy having someone as intelligent and lovely as you there.”

(That’s a lie; there is no party and no intellectuals—only his rats, which he will use to create the ambiance.)

His amethyst eyes never leave your face as he speaks, observing every little expression you might make while listening to his words.

He can’t deny that he’s interested in you, a form of interest he’s not used to. A very dark, and deeply rooted desire that seems to shine through his icy walls.

Your eyes sparkle as you listen to his words, recognising the slightly flirty but cool undertone of his words.

His gaze is intimidatingly direct and deep, which makes your cheeks flush softly. You can’t help but be flattered by the invitation. And you certainly cannot say no to him.

There is just something about him that makes your heart flutter with joy and excitement. And you do have time during that particular timeframe before heading back to your own country. So… why not?

“I would be delighted, Mister Dostoevsky.”

His smile turns into a soft smirk, and he hums in slight satisfaction as you agree. The feeling is quite intriguing, to say the least. He gives a slight bow, not once taking his eyes off your face.

“So am I, considering I’ll get to see you there, my dear.”

You try to hide your flustered face by tilting your head innocently.

“Is there any dress code I should look out for?”

Fyodor hums for a moment. He has already calculated that you would ask this, as you seem to be a very proper young lady who does not wish to overstep. And you will, of course, wear what he wants you to.

“No, not really. The evening’s theme is white, so it would be best if you wear a white, elegant dress. Other than that, there’s not much to know. However, I am certain you shall look enchanting no matter what you wear.”

You blush. “Thank you very much. Then… s-shall I give you my phone number?” You ask nervously.

He smiles at your flustered reaction. You really are adorable, blushing like a little schoolgirl being asked for her number for the first time.

He cannot recall having had a woman so nervous about giving him, a man, her contact information, and he enjoys watching just how shy you get while doing so.

He takes your number with the same polite smile, but he does not use his phone or write it down anywhere.

“Thank you, and I will ensure to text you the details of the event later on, my dear.”

You are confused because he did not write your number down anywhere. No way he’d be able to memorise it this quickly, right?

“And… you can memorise it this instant?”

He doesn’t try to hold back his amused chuckle this time at your confused expression, and the smirk that’s back on his lips is one of mild mockery.

“Of course, my dear. I happen to have a good memory. It would truly be foolish of me not to make use of it.”

Woah!!! I had so much fun writing this. I’m down bad. ♥️

[skylarkspinner]

fiber art adventures in egypt

I recently got back from a trip to Egypt & finally got around to organizing some pictures to share. One of the things I was most excited about was seeing what I could find on fiber arts and textiles.

Dropping everything under a read more, 'cause this will be a long post haha

first visit: the National Museum of Egyptian Civilization (NMEC)

At the time of visiting, they had a special textiles exhibit. It covered Pharonic Egypt all the way up to modern times, although I only had time to check out the dynastic & a bit of the Coptic portion of the exhibit (which was what I was really hoping to see anyways)

Was super excited to see this diorama in person. I knew about it but had never seen good pictures of it. From the little I've seen of ancient Egyptian spinning, spinning with two spindles seems to be the norm rather than a master technique? It also shows up in tomb art, which the exhibit also shared:

They also used a different fiber preparation (splicing to create a rove of fiber, no traditional drafting to my understanding) so that probably made a difference? Regardless I really want to see if I can replicate the technique, especially because their spindles look so similar to modern spindles??

I took so many pictures of spindles, guys, and I fully intend to either have a few replicas made or to learn to make some myself. Also, although they were unlabeled... I'm pretty sure those are beaters for weaving? That was a bit of a trend with this trip, so much stuff was unlabeled :( I would've killed to at least get some date estimates for some of the stuff they had on display. I was nerding out in here though, and my family took a few pictures of how excited I was getting. A bit embarrassing, but eh haha

The exhibit also had a section on natural dyes used with a fun visual;

There was several diagrams specifically describing each dye source, but in the interest of not overloading on pictures I'll just list them out. For blues; woad, Yellows; turmeric, safflower, saffron, or yellow ochre; reds; madder, henna, pomegranate, and kermes. I originally thought kermes was another way to say cochineal, but it only seems to be distantly related.

next visit: Ramses Wissa Wassef Art Center

A small art center dedicated to hand-weaving wool and cotton tapestries. All of their work was museum quality & awe inspiring!!

Was even invited to their back rooms to watch a few of their weavers working; no I don't have room to put a room-sized loom anywhere but heck do I want one now

Our guide that took us through talked a bit about the natural dyes they use (all of their dyes are dyed in house with what they grow in their dye garden!!!) and got excited to hear I was also interested in natural dyes! He seemed a bit disappointed I'd never worked with indigo and. while indigo scares me, I'll take it as a sign that maybe I should try some time this year haha.

final visit; the Egyptian Museum

we really had to rush through this one which was a huge shame because it's packed full of artifacts. Also, the lighting in there is atrocious, so apologies for the not great pictures ahead.

They had a fascinating display of textile tools, more than what the NMEC had;

(Hand for size reference) I want all of these spindles! So badly! But a few of them look so much like a few of the spindles I own already?? A few of them had a spiraling notch, that's so cool? But also, what's going on with the one with two whorls? I have no idea. I'm fascinated.

Look at these whorls!! Although again, I'm a bit confused; the lack of labeling strikes again. Unsure why some of these "whorls" have two holes, or what the metal object with the wooden handle is. The display implies sewing needles, and some of them do look like it, but others.... really don't look like sewing needles. I'm absolutely enchanted by this little whorl though. I think it has birds on it?

More objects that I'm baffled by- the signage doesn't really indicate what some of this stuff is, if it's even known. Also confused by the object wrapped in white string in the right pic; it looks like a distaff but to the best of my knowledge the (ancient at least) Egyptians didn't use distaffs. It probably popped up in later times and was put in this display since it was still relevant, but I'm still not sure.

I have so many more pictures & thoughts but I'll save those for more specific future projects. I've been doing research outside this trip on ancient Egyptian spinning techniques and desperately want to go deeper into that, this trip just solidified how excited it makes me. If you made it all the way through this, many thanks for reading!

Bonus; look at this ancient linen 🥺

[katealpha]

Art by Momo

Story written by Owl

“Hold on, I can get that!”

Camila paused, glancing back to see Vee hurrying up behind her, arms full of grocery bags. In fact, it looked as if she had a bit too much in hand, nearly toppling over with what all she had. Camila, meanwhile, only had a bag in each hand, both being fairly light at that. She smiled a tad, waiting until Vee had gotten up to the porch before stopping her. “Vee, it’s okay. I can still manage a door.”

Vee blinked, righting herself due to some bags nearly slipping from her grasp. “W-Well…yeah! But I-I just wanna be a help, is all. I mean…” Her eyes glanced over Camila, clearly indicating her rather large baby bump. Perhaps it was just Vee’s point of view, but she could swear it had grown since this morning.

“I appreciate your concern, mija, but trust me, I have the experience to handle this,” she remarked, though winced a tad. “Even if it is heavier than last time, heh.” She reached over, and opened the door. “That means I can handle a few more of those bags, alright? I don’t want to see you tumbling over before you reach the kitchen.”

“O-Okay…” she nodded, though seemed almost reluctant to pass off some of the bags. By the time they stepped in, their spread was much more even, though even then, it wasn’t that they got a lot of things, least compared to an average grocery trip. It was mainly snacks, spices, a few packaged vegetables, and a couple other odds and ends. Something to tie them over considering the rather shocking development that had just taken place.

“Phew…” Camila huffed, as she sat the last of her bags down on the counter. She glanced over at Vee, who was already hard at work taking things out and putting them away. She looked over at the remaining bags, and then down at her bump. Even with how big she was, she found herself feeling restless, almost on edge, rather than any level of exhaustion. Perhaps it was the magical nature of her pregnancy? Some adrenaline of all this happening so fast? Anxiety over this so-called ‘Destroyer’ she was warned about? It was hard to say; perhaps a mixture of them all. At the very least, she definitely felt the latter two most.

“Vee, dear?”

The basilisk poked her head from the cupboard. “Yeah?”

“Do you think you can handle the rest of the groceries? I…need to take a walk.”

“Yeah, sure…b-but are you sure you should do that?” Vee hoped down, and hurried to her side. “You’re basically full term, right? What if something happens to you out there? What if that weirdo from the museum starts harassing you?” She whispered that last part.

A small smile came across the older woman’s face. “Trust me, I’ll be able to handle that guy should I see him. Besides, I just want to take a quick walk down to the cabin and back. I won’t be gone for more than twenty minutes, I promise. Though, if you’re hungry now, I can make something for you real quick?”

Vee seemed to think it over for a moment, glancing out the window. It was getting a touch dark, nearly twilight. “N-No, I’ll be fine until you get back. Just…be careful, okay?”

Camila nodded, leaning down to kiss Vee on the forehead. “Of course, mija. Now you take a moment to relax. You’re much too young to be worrying this much.”

With a hint of her own smile, Vee nodded, and headed out for the couch. Once she was gone, Camila let out a long exhale, and started for the backdoor. On her way out, she grabbed her plaid sweatshirt, pulling it on but not even bothering with the buttons. If anything, it was to fight off the slight chill in the air that came with the late March evening.

She knew she told Vee she would be heading for the cabin, and she definitely was, but she wasn’t taking the usual path down there. In fact, she was actually going to that area for something else that was there; a memento of sorts, of someone important to her. Someone who may be able to share some guidance with her in this time of need.

However, it was still a bit of a walk there, so as she made her way through the pine ladened path, she let her mind drift along the cooling breezes of the night. Naturally, it drifted back down the path of her day, to the morning when she awoke, shocked by her sudden near term pregnancy, trying to reason why this had happened. Much like then, her mind went back to that night…what a strange night it was. It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours, but it felt like it was ages ago regardless. Every detail from that night was still etched into her mind, even things as small as Dumbo playing on the TV, or the pattern of the lash dish she was putting away.

It was three knocks at the door, at three minutes til midnight. This odd, rotund creature…a sesh, she called herself. A being of magic, like Luz’s friends. One that had been hunted by that horrible Belos. And now, it was still being hunted, by this new threat, the one she called the Destroyer. The language she used still stuck to her, always ringing in her head whenever she thought of her. His latest trophy. Whoever or whatever this Destroyer being is, it had such an intense hatred for this poor creature and wanted her dead…even if she was with child.

Camila’s eyes drifted down, gazing at the orb of a stomach before her. She was huge, even for a pregnancy of this measure. Much larger than she had been when she had Luz. Part of her was still surprised she had agreed to take the child, especially from such an odd being she had just met, whose name she only learnt mere moments before she…before she disappeared. Perhaps it was a shared sympathy between the two, seeing as both were mothers, even if one was yet to be…and now never will be, for that matter. If she had been in that same position, she would have wanted Luz to live. To be free. To experience life however best she could, even without her. Not to mention having the weight of her species' survival on her shoulders as well. Camila could barely imagine being the last human as is, and even less knowing she would have to give her life to save the last of her kind.

Still, the act of a pregnancy transferral was weird to her. Ignorant as she was to magic, what parts of the process she did glimpse seemed odd. Vee did say they were an older type of magic, but even then, it almost felt unnatural. Something no bigger than a golf ball shoved down her gullet, and all of a sudden she was pregnant? Yes, a woman’s stomach did grow during pregnancy, but it’s not like the baby actually grew in there. It must have…shifted around in her, or something of that sort. She was at least able to grasp that the egg grew overnight in her sleep, but how did it get into the womb from her mouth?

Perhaps some things are best left unanswered, she grimaced to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose, before continuing along the path. Twilight was now among the land, the final dim glow of the day before night would give way. The renovated cabin, the home-away-from-home that had housed Luz’s friends for a good few months, stood now within sight. Its doorway, having been enchanted by the child-like Collector to act as a link between the human realm of Earth and the demon realm of the Boiling Isles, shined on like a pink lighthouse in the night. Just a step beyond there was a world of magic, a world of monsters…the world Camila’s daughter was currently inhabiting, all but unaware of the challengers undergoing her homefront.

However, Camila instead passed it by, not even staying for a moment of reflection. To address that situation here and now, it was not something she was ready for. Later, for certain, but she had a different destination in mind. It was something simple, something rather plane, in fact. She had been out here a few times in the past, but the first time she had come here, it was long, long ago. More than a decade, and long before Luz was even a thought on her mind, or even his. She was a much younger woman, and he still had so much life left in him. Even as she approached it, she felt her eyes get teary; a regular occurrence, hormones or not.

She placed a hand gently against the trunk of the tree, where the etching was at. It had faded a bit, some of the bark growing back, but she knew what was there, and it was always clear to her. A thin heart, drawn fairly crude, with four letters joined by one symbol: MN + CN.

A soft smile came across her face. “Hola, Manny…” she whispered to herself, thumb brushing against the tree. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? So much has changed…Luz is back. Well, not back back. She went back to where she was, but now I know she’s there, and…heh, I’m sure you get it.” She looked down at her bump, and chuckled. “Oh, no. I didn’t end up with someone else. It would take someone just as special as you to make me settle down again, mi amor. It’s just…complicated.”

Leaning against the tree, she started going on about her life. The Boiling Isles, the Collector, Belos, everything Luz had done—“You would be so proud of her, really. She has grown to be a wonderful young woman.”—from saving the day, to making new friends, and of course her relationship with Amity. Then there was everything about that night, and how she ended up like she did. It was one thing to go over it in her head, but saying it aloud almost made it feel more…real, after all this time. As if she had some greater level of acceptance for this whole encounter. Regardless of the reason, it certainly felt a weight had been lifted off her chest.

“And now…here I am,” she finished off, turning to look at the carving once more. “It still is all very shocking, but being able to talk to you…I feel better about it.” She leaned forward, pressing her head against the tree and gently closing her eyes. “Manny…wherever you are, please…give me strength to make it through this. Having you around when I was carrying Luz…it made it all worth the while when we finally had her. Even if this child isn’t yours, it is mine now, so please…I hope you will be here for me. I love you…”

Opening her eyes, she straightens herself up, and looks down once more at her bump. Slowly, she pulled her top up, such that her belly was fully exposed now. A large brown orb of a midsection, heavy with a sesh baby. In an equally slow motion, she ran a hand down her curve, feeling how tight yet soft her skin now was. To feel something like this again instead of her typical soft center took her back. Between blinks, she could see herself with a different belly, still round but not as large. The eagerness she felt as she ran her hands down its sides…and the joy Manny felt as he felt it alongside her.

Camila took a breath, wiping a stray tear from her eye. “I suppose such is the case…after all, I am the one carrying you now,” she chuckled dryly, her hands gliding along the surface of her bump. “Hm…even if this isn’t the way I was imagining things, I was considering another child. I was picturing adoption as the most likely path, but…well, I suppose this does count, in some way.”

With a sigh, she pulled her shirt back down around her stomach, and turned around. She had already been out for a while, and that last thing she wanted was for Vee to start up again. “I swear, the last thing that child needs to worry about is me, of all people. I can perfectly…handle…myself…”

As she spoke, her eyes turned upwards, into the sky. The hour of twilight has now since passed, and the world was engulfed in darkness. However, above her were not any stars in the sky, or even the light of the moon, but thick layers of cloud. The air was still calm, however, and the breeze was still gentle. Should a storm be coming, now was the calm before it.

Yet the sight of them made Camila pause for a moment. There were differences, of course, but the similarities to that night were still there. The rumbles of thunder that built up to that moment, joined by the flashes of lighting, appearing in an alien shade of purple. The golden orb Lucci had encased herself in before ascending still glittered in her eye, even after it nearly instantly vanished alongside that streak of purple lightning. The speed it moved at, that horrible noise it made that still rang in her ears…and in an instant it was over. A downpour of rain, as if she had skipped the moment in time when a drizzle had started. Then she simply went to bed and slept, not even knowing if it was real until the next morning, where she discovered the truth of the matter.

As unlikely as it was, part of her still didn’t want to think Lucci was dead. It was like a clash between lawyers going on within her head, not knowing what was being defended and what was being said as the truth. The finality in her voice, the magic orb she generated, the wounds she bore, the Destroyer's desires; did any of it mean anything for her survival? The Destroyer had her for certain, so what would be the alternative if she wasn’t dead? Imprisonment? Torture? Perhaps death was a mercy after everything she had been through, but everything happened so fast, there was no way she could know. Perhaps she will never know, and perhaps that is for the better. For her sake, and for her new child’s.

A chill runs down Camila’s spine, despite the air remaining even. She tenses up, eyes going wide. A mere moment ago, she knew for certain she was alone, but now…it was as if a pair of eyes had locked onto her. She had no idea where, or whose they were, but she couldn’t shake the feeling: someone was watching her.

She doesn’t even bother to glance back, instead quickly taking the path back. With how big she was, it was fairly hard to get moving, but she made sure to keep her pace even and steady. The last thing she wanted was to make her fear clear. As she went along, she started to feel some movement within her belly. Kicks, soft ones, but persistent in the same spot, all at the top most part of her bump. Placing a hand over it, she felt a tinge of a connection, as if the baby knew just as much as she did. As if she was just as worried as she was.

In response, and to her surprise, Camila felt herself grow angry. Worried as she was, the last thing she wanted was any of her children having to be afraid in her steed. This threat, whatever it was, was her problem to deal with, and she would be damned if she would allow a single thing to happen to any of them. She didn’t care if they had some kind of ancient magic or whatever; for Luz, for Vee, and for her child yet unborn, she was going to stop them.

On her path home, she passed by the cabin once again, the door now more clearly illuminating the darkness abound. While she did not come to a complete stop, she did slow down ever so slightly, her eyes lingering on the door. With a small nod, her gaze narrowed, and she continued on back home.

Stepping up to the back door, Camila paused. Taking a breath, she collected herself, and then slowly pushed the door open. “Vee? Everything okay?” She called, walking in.

“Oh! Mom!” Vee perked up, her head popping up from the couch. The young basilisk quickly hopped to hear feet, and hurried over to her side. “Is everything alright? Did the walk help?”

“Yes…in a way,” Camila responded truthfully, a soft smile on her face. She still loved that Vee called her ‘mom’, something that always cheered her up a good bit. “Cleared my head a good bit. Though it also worked up my appetite. Up for some leftovers?”

“Oh, sure,” Vee nodded. “Some of that spaghetti would be great. I could…help? If you need it?”

“I think I can handle that myself, but thanks for the offer,” she assured her, heading for the fridge. However, once she got there, she paused, and turned back to her daughter. “Say, Vee…I was thinking, tomorrow. We could get up bright and early, and head over to the Boiling Isles? Luz should definitely be in the loop on all of this magic stuff happening here.”

Vee’s ears flapped a bit. “Oh jeez, yeah!! I didn’t even think of that yet!! That’s uh…that’s actually a bit embarrassing…” Her face turned a light shade of red.

“It’s okay, mija. This whole day has been rather crazy already for the both of us, so I get if it did slip your mind.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Vee admitted, scratching the back of her head. “But it will be good to tell her! She may even be able to explain what’s going on! Or Eda could! Or Lilith! I mean, someone should know there…right?”

Camila nodded, and opened the fridge door. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find some kind of answer, but let’s just wait to cross that bridge tomorrow. For now…” She popped back up, holding a glass dish of leftover pasta. “How much spaghetti do you feel hungry for?”

[selinasbruce2000s]

In the Back of My Mind - excerpt

Centuries into their shared immortality, Harry Potter stumbles upon a lead on how to finally weaken Voldemort's grip on eternal life. His search takes him to a museum filled with forgotten relics. Among ancient love letters, haunting paintings, and cryptic artifacts, Harry finds himself drawn into an unexpected obsession.

Circa 2050.

The date scrawled at the bottom of the sketch made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. This couldn’t be a coincidence. It was impossible. He hadn’t even been alive at that time, or rather—he hadn’t been human anymore. 

But he knew instantly who had drawn this. The style, the meticulous attention to detail, the subtle understanding of who he was—there was only one person who could have rendered him so faithfully.

Harry Potter.

A slow, dangerous smile crept across his lips. Of course it was Harry. The one boy who had always seen through him, the one person who had dared to understand him more deeply than anyone else had. The notion that Harry was still obsessing over him, even decades into the future, filled him with a strange mixture of satisfaction and anger.

He leaned in, studying the lines of the sketch. It wasn’t just a reflection of his face—it was more than that. The drawing had depth, as though Harry had captured a moment in time, a fragment of his essence that lingered beyond his years of power. It was as though Harry had frozen him in a moment of thought, somewhere between fury and contemplation. The eyes were the most unsettling part—they were no longer those of the boy who had once believed in his own superiority. There was something deeper there, something that suggested loss, perhaps even regret.

Voldemort’s fingers hovered over the glass, wanting to tear it from the wall. The irony was delicious—Harry Potter, the so-called savior of the wizarding world, had immortalized him. But it wasn’t the version of himself he would have chosen to be remembered by. This was a shadow of his former glory, a mockery of who he had been. 

"How poetic," he muttered under his breath. 

The sketch seemed to mock him, as if Harry had seen through all of his grand illusions and captured the truth that lay beneath. The boy who had defied him in life had now preserved him in art, as if to ensure Tom would never be forgotten. Even if he wanted to be.

His eyes flicked down to the small plaque beneath the drawing. There was no name for the artist, only a note: "Gentleman at Regent’s Park. Circa 2050. Artist Unknown."

"Unknown," Voldemort whispered, his voice barely audible. But he knew. He had always known.

Harry Potter had never stopped watching him, never stopped thinking about him. Even after all these years, Harry had found a way to keep him alive. To what end, Voldemort wasn’t certain yet, but he knew one thing for sure—this was no random piece of art. This was a message.

[empressxmachina]

"Mock Trial" by me | (on DA) | (on BSKY)

More like "(No) Mocking Trial," am I (W)right? Who let me do this again!? I need a cool folder name for the Investigations duology, but what?

Back in Japanifornia but later in time (and in a dark haze for the drama). Here, we have an intended double date practice session with the original courtroom rivals, now upgraded/promoted, and their just-as-dramatic understudies as co-counsels (or vice versa?) in a period after the grand societal tension/incident lingering in the previous image is resolved, all in some sort of rush/motion with no one in proper, static form. Well, the prosecution is definitely represented (as much as I was willing to try without [REDACTED]); the defense is a bit obscured: one being just a hand, and his headless boss/mentor dangling from said hand.

I envision Apollo as a size-shifter, somewhat recognizant of his variously split life (IYKYK), able to be small, too, when he feels safe to do so. But as I wanted Phoenix to stay small and just didn't want him directly with Miles again this time, using Apollo seemed like the next best choice since I intended to include Klavier somewhere from the start.

Again, you don't have to tell me I should just write a story; I know! But a girl is still busy... unless inspired. 👀

~more commentary and the references under the cut~

I know the junior attorneys are a bit mediocre in their detailing, but you can't tell me that I didn't eat with the OTP leaders. I still can't be bothered with Miles' hair, but the totality of it all, especially the face and vest, despite the scuffed glasses, is an achievement.

I almost put him in his father's coat for the feels, but the texture pointed me toward using his own, more blue like in the art in-game rather than full black like in the anime.

He's also not built like a beautiful fridge, despite my attempts in manipulating the stock, so let's just imagine that he has a sleeper build, okay?

The same pride for aesthetics goes for Phoenix with his accessories, but the intensity goes even more so for the annoyances, like trying to make his face and hair, only for me to take the L and just hide them altogether, lol.

That feeling when Herr Wright can fit within Herr Forehead's forehead.

Sketchbook Pro

"man, ..., moody, ..., emo" - Photo on PxHere

"Round Golden Badge" - Photo by tasper on Openclipart //yes, Phoenix has his badge; why else am I showing this picture at full-size?

"Dreams about big possibilities. Man in office clothes traines in football or soccer like goalkeeper on grey wall. Unusual look for businessman in motion, action. Sport, healthy lifestyle." - Photo by master1305 on Freepik

"hand hanging something blank" - Photo by cunaplus on Adobe Stock

"Gray Vest Hanging on a Hanger" - Photo by Maria Fernanda Perez on Pexels

"Empty courtroom, with old wooden paneling" - Photo by fivepointsix on Adobe Stock

"Hinged Cuff Bracelet" - Photo by Metropolitan Museum of Art, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

"Barrier rope isolated" - Photo by macrovector on Freepik

"Empty wall background" - Photo by topnto26 on Freepik

"Elegant Man Putting on Coat" - Photo by Евгений Горман on Pexels

"Closeup shot of a pair of glasses on a gray surface" - Photo by wirestock on Freepik

"Man Wearing Lace Cravat Sitting on Window Sill" - Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels

"Portrait of handsome fashion stylish hipster businessman model dressed in elegant blue suit posing on gray" - Photo by halayalex on Freepik

"Blonde, Portrait, Selfie" - Photo by TheHilaryClark on Pixabay

"Business people" - Photo by Racool_studio on Freepik

Circa October 2024. It's almost Christmas, which means it wasn't Christmas!

Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth, Apollo Justice, Klavier Gavin, Ace Attorney, and related characters/themes © CAPCOM.

This is the one that should've had a good "Turnabout" title, yet... nothing again. SMH.

[of-tatooine]

DULCE PERICULUM | CHAPTER IV - RED

justice the founder of my fabric moved.

(John Wick x Reader, Santino d'Antonio x Reader)

full work

Santino d’Antonio was a man of sheer principle.

Very few things could ever dare come in the way of stopping him, if he decided exactly what he wanted. The world was a simple place, after all, to men like him. There are rules to be followed - and there were men who set the rules for all to obey.

Santino preferred to be the latter.

He knew, from a very young age, that his actions would matter more than most people who had walked this soil before him. Indoctrinated, that some day, one very mighty day that he would come of age and rule the empire his family left him. That the ring adorning his father’s finger would soon be shining on his, the mere sight of it making men take a bow. Taking in Camorra’s teachings, day by day, age by age - the elder’s words gradually surrounding every aspect and second of his life.

A man devoid of routine and disciple could not be trusted to be the maker of the rules.

He liked his suits pressed, every inch of them carefully sewn and constructed - all custom made. He liked his men to report to him with a job well done, as soon as it was complete as he did not particularly enjoy to be the deliverer of punishment, unless the circumstances called for it.

He liked sipping his morning cappuccino early at dawn, watching the sun rise over the Mediterranean.

On the dot, the same exact time, each and every morning.

And one of the dearest ones to him, the one that perhaps brought him the most peace - he adored dinners shared in candlelight with you, his beloved, every single night that he could.

He enjoyed the flavor of the world’s most exquisite red wine trickling down his throat even more when he shared a glass with you. He liked sitting across from you, each night, on either an expansive dinner table or an intimate booth - whatever the night called for. He liked drowning in your eyes as the dessert course was served, savoring the sweetness.

He liked seeing how the wary candle flames illuminated your ever-so-gorgeous face.

“Santino,” came your calming voice, as if calling for him through the void, finally reaching light.

“Sì, amore?”

“Will Tarasov honor his promise?”

Strands of hair fell on your face as you posed the question in genuine conversation, a gentle movement of your fingers pushing them back, then leaning towards the wine.

“He better.”

A small grin adorned your lips, taking another sip as your gaze shifted towards the starry night across Rome, shining over your city.

“One thing I know for sure - men like him will never leave the work, amore,” he would slowly say, the gleaming crystal glass in his hands, crimson liquid shaking ever so slightly after his sip.

His eyes, though, seemed to be the slightest bit of troubled, a little aloof, yet calm and calculated as his gaze wandered over the ornate Caravaggio adorning the vast penthouse wall.

The Taking of the Christ.

It was one of his favorites. One of yours, rather, brought in by his request from the Metropolitan Museum of Art all the way across from the New World, back to where it belonged for eternity. He had noticed your eyes linger on the gleaming armor, masterful brushstrokes to create illusion of light, of hope, of dishonor as Christ was taken upon betrayal of Judas. It had been a marvel to you to see Christ’s halo, ever so gently painted with specks of gold, still be visible even against his upcoming miserable fate - it was an incessant topic of excitement over the dinner that followed the museum visit, your eyes shining move than gold ever could within the glimmers of the intimate flames of the restaurant.

The next day, he had the artwork installed at the Continentale.

He had made a silent pact with himself to keep that spark in your eyes.

After all, it was sometimes the small pleasures that mattered for Santino.

The penthouse echoed with his voice, the waitstaff replenishing bread and empty glasses like ghosts in the shadows - delicate, efficient, barely there.

“You think he can do it?”

“Sì,” your lips let go, not doubting for one split second. Maybe it was the past speaking, etched along the words in their everlasting effect. Deep within you, the voice knew that John would come out of this ordeal at the end of the day. He would find his way, claw through the concrete and raw earth if he had to.

Limping, bruised, bloodied, yet walking still.

Scarred, scathed, yet alive nonetheless.

Alive, and most importantly - a free man.

“Senza problemi,” you added for some good measure unbeknownst to you, nimble fingers cutting yet another piece of your food to savor. The most decadent of dishes as always, the intricate porcelain with gold specks, the polished silverware easily gliding through the veal as you took a bite.

Yet nothing could be done without his help. Without your carefully constructed plan, meticulously arranged meetings, no detail overlooked.

All of it done to aid none other than John Wick.

What would he do without you by his side?

It was a thought that rarely crossed his already convoluted mind, but when it did, it came down on him with a wave of emotions. Feelings that made his heart flutter for the briefest second, his jaw clenched taut for a fleeting moment.

The very life he led molded him into an expert of separating his emotions, dissociating the past from the present. It would not be the first, definitely not the last time that he buried memories to keep from resurfacing.

Santino knew of the past, your past, fragments of memories shared with him over the years. He knew that there was once a time your eyes gazed intimately at another pair but his.

He would be lying to himself thinking that the mere idea did not haunt him when times rolled around, when the name was mentioned.

A capo would be a fool to show his true colors for anyone to pry.

Yet, as he slowly made his way over to your end of the marble dining table - his body language, the mimics and the small movements he was habituated to hide, seemed to tell another story.

Was it jealousy? Need? Greed to keep you right there where he wanted, where you could be safe and protected?

Pulling out the closest plush dining chair to take a seat facing you. His striped three piece, casually chosen for the leisure of an evening meal with a lover at home, parting gently to reveal his crisp white shirt as he leaned over. Head tilted ever so slightly.

The glints in his green hues as his gaze lingered around your features accentuated by the fazing moonlight seemed to indicate a mixture of all.

His thumb slowly reached to lift your chin, now properly facing him. Gentle touches from hands that have bathed in blood. Knuckles that have broken bones caressing your cheek in the softest of touches.

His invaluable artwork, sitting right in front of him, looking up at him with expecting eyes laced with curiosity.

He could not help but wonder just how much longer could he protect you in this world you both were thrown into mercilessly, by blood or by oath.

Your body softened under his touch, habitually, gazing into his eyes and leaning with ease, finding yourself positioning closer to him, your black boatneck dress doing all the favors to your frame.

“I need you to be very careful when you’re in New York again,” Santino spoke with a clear, stern yet whispered soft voice. The ever-so-stray strand of curly black hair adorning his forehead, his clean-shaven skin smooth under the moonlight. The fireplace towards the center of the room cackling as the wood burnt, casting a gentle orange shadow to contrast the silver light of the night.

“Tarasov is one beast, his enemies are another.”

Getting the so-called “impossible task” ready would not have been an easy feat. Santino had no doubt in his head that you would the plans to imminent success, one by one, assembling all the targets right where you wanted them to be. However, like any lower would - he worried.

A nod came from your side as a response, smiling tenderly yet softly at him, leaning your head into his palm as his warm fingers embraced your cheek. Your hand found its’ way to rest softly on his thigh, freshly red manicure in stark contrast against the navy wool.

“Non ti fare problemi per me,” you would say. “I will be just fine.”

“Bene,” he would respond after a short pause of looking for truth in your eyes.

You spoke the truth to Santino - yes, you would be fine. You always turned out to be quite alright after even more dangerous situations that this life had put you through, if your lucky streak did not fail you this time.

To you, deep down, this all seemed to be a twisted return of fate. A little laugh of the heavens above, having a little fun with the both of you. Helping the man who led you astray all those years ago.

It may have been an unthinkable back then, yet it indeed was happening the moment you would step onto that private jet in the hangar the following day, with Santino, as charming as ever, waving you off with the smile on his face.

And only then, would you realize.

John was going through all of this trouble, this mayhem - all for her.

Something he never would have done for you.

“Come here,” Santino would whisper, attempting to silence the rampant thoughts running through with a loving kiss - the familiar exquisite scent of the sea salt, pine and bergamot enhancing your senses.

It felt right.

It had always felt right with him. His warm touch, gentle embrace - his touch so delicate that he seemed almost afraid to break you.

As you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer, you could hear the light as a feather taps of dress shoes against hardwood as the waitstaff promptly took the cue to excuse themselves, the doors clicking shut.

Santino’s rugged hands found your thighs, deepening the kiss as he roamed up to your waist, peppered touches becoming demanding.

The wine fresh on his lips, enticing and inviting to taste more.

And so you did.

You yearned to taste more of him as he effortlessly lifted you up to carry you towards your bedroom, your patent leather heels slipping onto the floor, your hands buried in his hair, nails that would dig onto his back in the following moments of the night.

Santino never ceased to remind you of his attraction towards you, and yours towards him. Times like this, he liked to use it to his advantage, to serve a noble cause.

And as your eyes rolled back out of sheer pleasure - the world besides Santino ceased to exist for a split moment.

He was the only truth. He had been the only truth, the one that mattered. The sole constant in your life, the only one that could make you feel in bliss.

And he vowed to never let you forget it.

[strawberryya]

loving you is so easy

Minghao x reader

request: 13, 14, 28 with Minghao ? I think it would be so cute and funny I can’t

13: “my head hurts.” “that’s just your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity.” 14: “Well, my middle finger salutes you.” 28: “Oh god, that was cheesy.”

synopsis: a simple art museum date with your boyfriend along with a very serious arts-and-crafts competition can be exactly what one needs every once in a while.

currently playing: loving you is so easy - HONNE

word count: 2.9k

genre/contains: fluff, mentions of food and headaches, banter and art-talk

rating: sfw, all ages

a/n: helloooo, so I wrote this forever ago and just never posted it TT sorry anon for this slow response!

.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・.

It was amazing, you thought, how a person could have something like this existing solely in their head and then make it appear in our reality, visible to not only oneself but many others for many years to come. In front of you, was a field of tiny flowers on a huge canvas. Stuck in time, forever blooming. 

“I like this one,” you said longingly. 

“I think it captures the sadness of spring very well, it’s good,” Minghao agreed, adding his own interpretation of the painting as well. 

You nodded, not wanting to admit that you hadn’t understood the actual concept until he said it and that you had pretty much just liked the pretty colors used in it along with the feeling it gave you. Of course, the sheep did add to it, placed sporadically throughout the landscape filling the inside of the frame. 

Beside you, Minghao was standing, now turned to you and grinning behind his mask. His giggly voice startled you in your wandering train of thought, “It’s because of the sheep isn’t it?” he asked. You looked at him with wide eyes, your mouth slightly agape behind the mask covering your face. 

“How did you know?!” 

“You had a goofy smile, you always have that goofy smile when you see something cute that interests you,” he said, still giggling as he explained. 

“You can’t even see my face Hao!” you exclaimed, wondering how the hell he had been able to read your mind like that. 

“It’s the same expression you have when you look at me most days…” he teased and turned his gaze back to the framed canvas. 

Giving him a small bump to the side you too turned back to the flower field. “So annoying,” you mumbled, “but yes… I like the sheep…” 

This time it was you who got a small bump to the side, and as you stabilized yourself Minghao bent his head just enough to be able to bump his head with yours. There was no way you could hold onto your forced pout any longer after that. In response, you unraveled the arms you had crossed and let them drop to your sides, the one closest to Minghao’s open and welcoming hand reaching over discretely and embracing it, intertwining your fingers with his and feeling him squeeze your hand. 

You knew what he meant by it, and the butterflies in your tummy fluttered up and warmed you up from the inside. 

The next painting was one that Minghao knew more about. Apparently, it was rather famous, and he spoke about what he knew about the artist and how they were one of the people reimagining how to use the mediums popular during that time. When he was done with that one you continued over to a much bigger canvas, portraying some kind of mermaid. She was rather beautiful you thought, and when you said so Minghao agreed wholeheartedly. 

“She is beautiful, but she also seems so unfulfilled, something in her eyes seems to be longing for something,” he said, articulating things you had only felt but not seen clearly until then. 

You nodded thoughtfully, “At first it looks like she’s staring at the audience, but the more you look the more her gaze seems so distant like she sees right through us and past us into something we can’t even fathom,” you continued, and Minghao seemed entranced by your words, listening to you figuring out what the painting meant to you. 

The two of you continued like this for hours, wandering through the giant rooms decorated and embellished to match the frames and art they housed. Some of the paintings made you reflect and speak about what it could mean. Minghao had more knowledge than you ever thought possible about some of them and you listened to everything he had to tell you about what you were looking at. 

Other paintings you both just looked at, and some you found hilarious. The ones with owls were especially funny to you for some reason, so every time you saw one either in the background of the painting or smack dab in the middle, the person who noticed it first exclaimed a hushed kind of “Owl!” and the other then has to respond with a “Hoo,” and of course, the other is required to say “No, it’s just an owl I don’t know it by name,” making you both giggle and move quickly away from the turning heads wondering what was so funny about the picture that it had you two laughing your lungs out. 

The day had been passing like this and you were starting to feel tired from it all, a headache making its way to your head, causing you to lose more and more interest in the beautiful art all around you. 

“My head hurts,” you said, rather emotionlessly, as you stared at an abstract painting mainly in primary colors that looked a lot like a pile of messy blobs to your tired eyes. 

Minghao assumed you were joking and commenting on the painting and decided to take another playful shot at your statement. 

“That’s just your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity, don’t worry too much about it,” he said, bumping your arm to rile you up and make you fire back your usual retaliations. 

However, you just shook your head, “Hao, I’m serious. It’s pretty bad,” you said as you looked at him, your ailments showing in your eyes; at least to his eye, trained to spot any and all things going through your mind through your face. 

“How long has it been this bad?” he said, his tone shifting into very worried and cupping your face in his hands. 

“It’s been creeping up on me but I didn’t think it would become this bad,” you admitted, making Minghaos eyebrows knit together in worry. 

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand in his again, leading you away from the art in the big rooms, “let’s see if water and food will help, and if it doesn’t we just go home.” 

The theory of you being mainly dehydrated and crashing with your blood sugar was proven correct when you began feeling better immediately after you got something in you along with an entire bottle of water and a second one that Minghao told you that he would be carrying around for the rest of the day just so that this wouldn’t end up happening again. 

When you were done and just sitting and chatting about this and that, the headache was pretty much gone altogether, which was a huge relief since you had wanted to try out a thing they had at this particular museum that you two hadn’t gotten to yet. 

“Should we just wander a bit more and see if we can find something interesting in the ancient sections, or would you rather we start heading home? We could always order in and have a movie night,” Minghao proposed, trying to figure out how you saw the rest of the day going. 

“I actually had a thing in mind that I’ve wanted to do this entire time,” you said, shocking Minghao who had no idea you had something up your sleeve that he didn’t know anything about. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s a surprise!” you said with a sly smile. 

.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・.

You had figured out exactly where the location was when you got to the museum that morning, waiting for the right time to bring him there and surprise him, but walking around had been too much fun that you had kept waiting for the right moment, and here it was. 

In the room you had just entered stood multiple tables set out, some smaller and some bigger, perfect for groups and couples with any number of people. There were children and their parents, couples of all ages, and a couple of friend groups set up at the tables all around the studio. On the empty tables were just simple placemats laid out, waiting for someone to come around and create their art above them. 

Art, yes, art was what you came here for. However, there wasn’t only art made by professional artists in this particular museum. There was also this art that was being made here every day, a new stream of creativity coming alive within this place of ancient relics thorugh ordinary people. 

When you had seen the info about it on their website you had immediately decided that it was something the both of you had to go try out. 

“What do you think?” you asked excitedly, almost jumping in your spot waiting for his reaction. 

“Are we going to make something?” he asked, still not sure where you had led him. 

You nodded, “They have this workshop a couple of days every week and you can choose what you want to do, you can paint with a bunch of different mediums and you can even paint pottery if you want!” 

“Okay, alright, that sounds fun,” he said, looking around the room and the many shelves showing previous visiting artists’ work along with all the materials and tools available for the people coming there to use. 

You were smiling and almost skipping into the room with Minghao after you, “I wanna paint on pottery!” you told your boyfriend. 

“Oh, you’ve already decided? Hmm, what should I do then?” 

With renewed energy, you saw your chance to get back at him for his comment earlier about you being an idiot, and you knew you had to take your shot. 

“Give up. Because you will never make something prettier than the cup I’m going to make.”

It wasn’t a perfect comeback, nowhere close to perfect, but you still felt smug knowing he hadn’t expected you to return to the regularly scheduled teasing so soon after having miraculously recovered through inhaling some water. However, he was glad, which was evident in the way his face crinkled up showing you once again his cheeks rising and crinkling his eyes and telling on his mood while he slowly put up his hands in fists. 

You knew immediately what he was doing when he began slowly backing away while spinning one of his hands, keeping the other still with the back facing towards you as his middle finger slowly rose to flip you off

“Well, my middle finger salutes you,” he said in a teasing tone you both used way too often. 

He was about to back into a table when he turned around while you were both still laughing over your combined childishness. 

“It’s on!” he exclaimed as he went to gather the tools he was planning on using and you headed off to do the same before you both convened at a table for two. 

You with everything you needed for painting your premade mug ready to color however you pleased, and he, with a tiny canvas and a bunch of different paints and brushes that were placed next to the brushes you had brought. 

“Let’s begin,” you said, receiving a wink back from Minghao making you frown in a ‘don’t use those cheap tricks on me mister’ kind of way. 

The next hour or so was spent by the two of you deeply concentrated on your separate projects, occasionally looking up from whatever you were doing to try and catch a sneak peek of what he was working on. Of course, he caught you every time, snickering about how you were so incredibly mischievous. 

When you felt somewhat satisfied you looked up only to meet Minghaos eyes curiously watching you. The side of his face was being hit so exquisitely beautifully by the warm sunlight shining in through the window beside your table. You were stunned for a moment before you could form a proper question. 

“How long have you been watching me?” 

“Not too long,” he said and smiled brightly. 

You squinted at him suspiciously, “And you’re done already?”

“I am,” he said and nodded, not removing that grin from his face for a single second. It made you wonder what exactly he was planning on doing.

“Who should start? Also, how do we decide on the winner?” you asked, now increasingly curious to see what he has been working on this entire time, but still intent on winning over him in his own sport. 

“You can start if you want.”

“Fine, I’ll start. But only because I’m super nice,” you said with a very sarcastically morally righteous tone lacing your voice. 

“And because you love me,” Minghao added.

“...and because I love you,” you admitted, rolling your eyes while his eyes revealed how his smile became even bigger than before. 

“Anyways, I made this mug. It has pink clouds up here, and then we have green moss down here along with these tiny pink and yellow flowers,” you began and Minghao listened and watched your show and tell with much interest, “and then… sheep.” 

You reached the mug over to Minghao so he could take a closer look at the dozen or so sheep grazing the wide moss fields on the surface of your mug.

“The sheep are the best part, I won’t lie to you,” he said after inspecting them for a while, “however, the pink clouds and the green moss are very visually appealing too, very interesting choice… may I ask why you chose those two in particular?”

You chuckled, he sounded like one of the food critics on master-chef, without the iconic Gordon Ramsey vocabulary and accent that is, and now he was dissecting your mug art. 

“I don’t wanna say…” you said while trying to avoid eye contact with the man currently in possession of your prized art. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s too cheesy okay!” you admitted, making Minghao smile a wide smile underneath his mask. 

“Please tell me anyways.”

You hesitated but decided to just tell him instead of having him bother you about whatever they could’ve meant in the future. 

“It’s because… you make everything feel like pink skies and green moss okay!”

There was a moment of silence, and then he chuckled, you opened the eyes you had closed as you said the words, cringing at your own sappiness. 

“Oh god, that was cheesy.”

“See! I told you!” 

He laughed again, seemingly loving how embarrassed you were over having made it thinking of how he made you feel every day. 

“I like it though, it’s really cute if I’m being honest.”

You didn’t acknowledge what he had said, just desperate to move on and forget about it as quickly as possible. 

“Okay, your turn!” you hurried to say, bringing the focus over to what he had been making. 

“You ready?” he said. You nodded and he turned around the canvas, showing you some kind of an abstract mess of colors. It was reminiscent of a galaxy, you thought as you studies his work. 

“I like it… but I can’t really tell what it is…” 

Minghao’s face crinkled up with a wide grin at your confession, “It’s a feeling,” he said and chuckled. 

You tipped your head to the side, deciding that maybe a new angle would make you understand the feeling he had portrayed better. It did not. You liked it a lot, you really did, but you could not for the life of you put your finger on what emotion he had made. 

“I’m sorry baby, I just cannot figure out what feeling. You’re gonna have to tell me before I lose my mind.” 

“It’s the feeling I get when I look into your eyes,” he explained, staring right into your eyes and seeing you become all flustered at his words. 

“How dare you! How dare you call mine cheesy when you had this planned all along!!” you exclaimed angrily. 

Minghao couldn’t help but laugh at your aggression toward his loving revelation. You began pouting, crossing your arms, and turning your head away from him while muttering under your breath. “I despise you,” knowing he would see through your charades as soon as you said it. 

“Oh, you know you love me,” he said in a smug voice as he continued finding your actions highly amusing. 

“So what if I do?” you retorted. 

“If you do… we can agree that your beautiful mug won our little competition,” he said, his demeanor telling you he was smirking under his mask, knowing you would admit and take the win. 

“I just have to admit that I love you?”

“Yup.”

“...I love you,” you said, feeling hot as you said it, his gaze so loving and warm and stuck on you the entire time. 

“And we have a winner, your gorgeous sentimental sheep mug has taken the first prize making the boyfriend end up in a lonely second place,” he proclaimed, making a cheering ‘woo’ sound as well. 

You decided it was only fair that you joined in, bowing in your seat and repeating “Thank you, thank you, everyone,” as you held your first-place winning mug in your hand. 

When you were both done with your ceremony you put up your art on the shelves, deciding that you wanted to leave your artwork there along with the many people who had left theirs there before you. You placed them together so they would always stay by each others’ side and left the studio. 

.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・.

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

[navigation post!]

[darlingkirstein]

im just curious about your headcanon for their job (for eremika and jeanpiku if that's alright)

this question has truly thrown me for such a giant loop because im super indecisive! so i thought instead of choosing one option, i could list a few plausible options for the characters! these are just the jobs that came to mind for some reason. im sure i could come up with others but this are the first that i decided on, and i tried to choose jobs that are a little more unorthodox to be unique 🩷

also sorry for how long this has taken ! i know you've been waiting for this for a while 🫶

Eremika

— Eren Jaeger!

Physical/recreational therapist: I can imagine him wanting to help people but not wanting to be a hospital doctor or anything like that. He seems like he'd be a pretty active guy so I think a job where he gets to help people and also move around and help clients move around and recover from injury would be both fulfilling and fun for him at the same time! Or even recreational therapy, getting to help people through different activities!

Small business owner: I can see him taking the charge and owning his own business, maybe with the help of his parents with a small investment to get it started. Mikasa might also help with this when she has spare time because she wants to support him! I'm thinking something that incorporates his love of cooking, like a bakery or food shop?

Stuntman/stunt coordinator: This one is more for fun but I love picturing him as a stunt man for movies. He would get a kick out of the thrill it gives him if he's actively participating or he'd find it satisfying to coordinate really interesting stunt work. Mikasa would always be fearful that he's gonna injure himself.

— Mikasa Ackerman!

Bookstore employee: I don't know why, but I think Mikasa would love working around a quiet environment with books. Getting to provide recommendations and organize the shelves makes her feel accomplished without over-stressing her. She loves reading so the employee discount is definitely a big benefit.

Speech-language pathologist: I'm biased here because this is what I'm studying! But I think Mikasa could thrive in this job! Getting to help people struggling with communication is really fulfilling and she gets to challenge herself to find creative solutions. I think she would love working with children, helping them fix their speech sounds, or even with adults, helping with different disorders.

Daycare owner/lead employee: I think a lot of us agree that even in our modern AUs, Mikasa didn't have the happiest childhood. So, I think she tries to make sure that other children have the best possible childhood around. She would be very attentive to all their needs because she's naturally great with kids. Eren would find this so endearing and it would really give me lots of baby fever when she comes home and talks about the kiddos.

Jeanpiku

— Jean Kirstein!

Gonna start off by saying that I feel like Jean initially settles for an office job because he feels like he has to be a big breadwinner and have a stable, high-paying job but it ends up making him rather miserable so he quits to pursue other jobs.

Art restoration: I know the idea of Jean being an artist is kinda overplayed since he only draws once but I am so attached to it. But here I'm specifically thinking of him restoring old/damaged paintings for museums or for people's personal collections. He probably finds comfort in seeing the pretty paintings come back to life after being so dull. He takes it super seriously since it's so technical so he's very proud of his work and the results!

Something in the restaurant/food industry: Jean loves cooking so much! He would want to share his cooking with others. He might work at a restaurant making good or maybe even as a cooking instructor? I think that even if his job isn't in the food industry that he still volunteers his time to cook for people in need because it's something he's passionate about.

Art therapist: In a similar vein to art restoration, I am imagining him as an art therapist, trying to help people with their struggles through various forms of art. It's probably therapeutic to him, so sharing that therapy with others is so sweet to me. I think would love to work with children especially, just getting to see them smile after they've gone through some rough things :)

— Pieck Finger!

Something in journalism: Pieck would get a kick out of writing small articles for different papers or magazines, or even in the newspaper (even if it's a dying medium). She gets to show a more creative side while making a living and she also gets to work from home which is great because she's kind of a homebody! She gets to be comfortable while writing her fun articles :)

Accent/dialect coach: This is also kind of a half-serious one like the stunt coordinator one for Eren. I feel like Pieck would be weirdly good at accents, like stupidly good. So she might have fun working with actors either in bigger shows/movies or in local theatre productions to change accents.

Editor: Another job that could be done from home, I think she would like editing people's books or articles or anything to make them better. She finds it fun and satisfying to correct mistakes and make suggestions, and it's so fun because she can work on stuff from her bedroom if she so desired. Maybe she both writes and edits and just switches off depending on the day/helping out her writer friends by editing their work for them.

[semifilms]

Hello, hello. I’m new here so I don’t know how many character I can request but may I request headcanons of vacations with Suna, oikawa and semi

☆VACATIONS W/ THEM | suna rintaro, toru oikawa, semi eita, atsumu miya

a/n - i actually love this prompt anon and i apologize for being very late to respond and do it 😭i hope you don’t mind that i added atsumu to this🫡 also i got a little carried away & i didn’t proofread 🙈

cw - light swearing

suna doesn’t remember almost anything when you guys are packing. it’s like all basic necessities he needs, he forgets. on the plane ride he is sleeping almost the whole time, he’s dreading the jetlag but he wants to be prepared for the long day you guys have planned. wherever you decide to vacation he’s excited to be there as long as you are. you’re happy, he’s happy. the only thing he’s really looking forward to might be sleeping in the hotel. the plane seats were not comfortable. you think he paid for first class? no. once he gets real good sleep in he’s actually so much more energetic and is ready to go do little tourist things. he takes servers pictures of you guys at landmarks and restaurants just to save to a little album on his phone <3

oikawa is basically vlogging the whole process of picking and the trip. he honestly isn’t that forgetful but he’ll forget like one thing and it’s probably really important. seems like the type to overpack and forget his passport. also definitely wants to be their 2 hours early. you guys would grub on airport food until the flight. and yes, you’re definitely flying first class i don’t think i could picture him settling in economy. he’s seen the movies and he’s experienced those crying toddlers and those unlucky seats in between sweaty strangers. he’s not up for that at all. he would definitely post pictures of you guys posing in front of landmarks to his socials. or the food you guys eat at restaurants. i feel like i’m his instagram close friends he’s rating the food like he’s keith lee. overall it’s a very enjoyable vacation.

SEMIIIIIII my love<<333. (my bad) anyway, he makes sure you don’t forget anything. he made a list and he checked it not once, not twice, but three times he had to make sure. you guys leave prepared and you get to the airport 20 minutes before departure. i’m sorry but he’s not trying to wait in the airport for 5 hours, like some people…. if there are any types of street performers music wise or whatever he will stop so you two can watch. (definitely leaving tips.) going to an art museum is on the itinerary. he just likes making little jokes about the art and interpreting it in a funny way and not making it deep. but he also really appreciates the art and especially street art (if any where you vacationed) he will make small talk with older natives to wherever you visit and listen to their stories. even if he’s not interested he acts like he is. he’s making the most out of the vacation that’s for sure.

now i’ve thought about atsumu on vacation several times this is why i had to include him. he’s forgetful when you’re packing, no doubt but in the end he remembers everything and you guys BARELY make it in time to the airport. you’d think with how often he’s flown he’d be better but no. this man is looking forward to fucking up some foreign food. he is using this vacation as an excuse for whatever diet he is on. fans spot him in the airport when you guys arrive and the amount of paparazzi is insane. nonetheless he is really just has his arm wrapped around you as you guys head out to the ride waiting for you. NICE ASS HOTEL! NICE ASS HOTEL! 100% got one of those rooms that looks like an apartment. did you guys watch singles inferno? like those. back to the food he is cleaning plates and trying every single dish recommend at the restraints. hell take some photos of landmarks but he’s rather just enjoy it with you in the moment.

©semifilms do not copy, repost or translate my works

reblogs appreciated!

[chishiyashoodie]

can you write some hc of chishiya and reader’s first date ? 🥺

Sure! Haven’t written anything like this in weeks so bear with me. Also, I’m not taking requests, but thought this was a cute concept! so thank you for requesting it <3

Headcanons of Chishiya’s and readers first date

+ pairing: ooc!Chishiya x reader +

+ warnings: none!

+ word count: 3400ish +

+ author’s note: I got a bit carried away and I wrote two first dates hehe. I think it’s kinda sweet but idk if I’m happy with it. Very quick proofread so sorry for any mistakes <3 This can take place before or after the borderland +

-So you guys meet after work one day to go through some work related stuff

-You go to a Japanese barbecue restaurant

-After you are done eating, he asks if you’d like to meet tomorrow again just to hang out

-“So a date?” you ask him

-“No, not a date”

-“Hmm” you say giving him a suspicious look “Pick me up at 12pm”

-Date-no date day is here and you are super nervous but you don’t get why because first: it’s definitely not a date and second you’ve known him for a long time

-He decides to take you to an exhibition at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum

-You wonder how he knows you like that kind of stuff

-After you guys are done with the exhibition, he takes you to a small food stand inside the museum

-“Are you hungry?” He asks

-“No, I’m good” you say with a smile

-You sit down to wait for him to get his food and he brings you a matcha lather, which you love, and you ask him how does he know you like it

-“I’ve noticed you have this every morning at work when you start your shift”

-So he’s been observing you, which you find kinda sweet, because everything is in the little details

-After the museum date hang out, you walk to a nearby park and lay down under a tree

-You feel so comfortable and peaceful that time goes by so quickly

-“I like this” you say “but I’d rather it was nighttime so we could be looking at the stars. Don’t get me wrong, I love blue skies but stars make me curious because they are there, so close yet so far”

-He’s just looking at you with heart eyes and a soft smile

-“Maybe we could do this again tomorrow?” he suggests. “But when it’s dark so you can see them?”

-“Sure”

-Looking at the stars with him is definitely not something you’d think ever happen.

-The next day you guys meet up at the park.

-This time he brings a blanket for you guys to lay on.

-Before you realise it your head is on his chest

-You start talking about constellations and even though he has no idea what you are talking about, he’s following every word you say.

-When it’s time to go, he walks you home and you invite him in.

-You prepare some tea for the both of you and start talking about life

-“It’s so weird, I can talk to you about anything and I know you’ll just listen” you say

-“Likewise” he says before asking you. “So do you have a boyfriend?”

-“Hmm no?”

-He hums

-“I do not have a bf, sorry your question caught me by surprise” you say staring at his face without realising

-“I don’t have a girlfriend”

-“I’d be worried if you did and you were here with me, tbh”

-He raises his eyebrows at you, after all, this isn’t a date either so why would it matter, right?

-“So how come you are single? You are pretty cute” you admit, before slightly chocking on your tea at the realisation of what you just said

-“I’m cute?”

-He’s staring at you so much at this point he could literally get you to tell him your biggest secrets

-“Super cute if I may admit”

-For the next few minutes it’s just silence and awkwardness. You just told Chishiya he’s cute and by the looks of it, it seems like he thinks you are cute too

-“It’s time for me to go. I have an early shift tomorrow” he finally says

-By now you are inches away from each other like a magnet pulled you

-“Do you really have to go? I mean, I have a spare room, you can sleep here”

-He raises his eyebrows at your forwardness, not that you mean it for him to stay and sleep with you

-You can feel each other’s breaths and your lips are touching

-“Sure, I’ll stay”

[hearts4jean]

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡

- jean - confess - modern au -

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We all know this mf would be such a nervous wreck when it comes to anything to do with you (pre-dating and sometimes during-dating) regardless of what it is. Internally, he gets so giddy at any mention of you and attempts to play it off, cannot do the same for the life of him when you’re around. He is described to be well-spoken by others but that reputation goes down the drain when in your presence. Day-to-day interactions are one thing, but actually confessing feelings and pouring his heart out of how he really feels? Yeah, no. He’d be the type to have a crush and absolutely do nothing about it because he’s afraid to come off as weird and being thought of like: “Wow, I didn’t expect him to feel this way,” and has a huge fear of rejection. He just prefers to keep it to himself and remained unjudged by you and everyone else and continue what he has with you. He does this until he is no longer be able to keep up the act because quite frankly, everyone knows.

Everyone knows that he likes you. He’s too obvious and so easy to read, everyone would think. You would have your suspicions but choose to remain oblivious and you feel like it’s just your desires talking. What a dream it would be for THEE Jean Kirstein to fancy you. It gets so obvious that even he is self-aware about it and asks Marco and Connie of all people for advice. Neither would’ve ever been in any romantic predicament. Reiner would’ve but Jean would probably rather get love advice from a romance novel fanatic who romanticises toxic relationships over Reiner if you want to put it like that.

Connie would purposely give dumb suggestions but some ideas do spark other ideas in Jean’s mind which is the reason why Jean still hasn’t screamed at him to stop suggesting dumb romance tropes like serenading you with singing and playing a guitar. Marco as expected gives amazing advice. Alongside this, he assists Jean in gaining confidence to face you and tell you how he feels.

After that, he is able to build up the courage to ask if you’d like to spend the day with him, this would be on a weekend and you two haven’t really seen each other outside of school other than on the bus home and different occasions where you see each other at supermarkets with your parents (closest thing you have gotten to interacting are subtle waves and mouthing greetings as you didn’t want your parents suspecting you of anything. Jean’s mum would already know about you before meeting you, and thinks you seem lovely based off what Jean has said about you to her and how much he talks about you without trying to sound insane.)

The layout of the day was Marco’s suggestion. Jean takes you to various places that do not deem to be romantic, but allow him to have fun with you and eases his thoughts on the fact that he has decided to finally pour his heart out to you. The activities consist of going to an arcade and spending every cent to win at every claw machine, visit an art museum assuming you both have some sort of intriguement in art, and ending the day with a stroll at the park and small picnic, after that, he intends to confess his love then.

On the Saturday morning, you have been waiting for him to show up to pick you up to take you out on this day “filled with fun and surprises” as Connie described the day before, emphasising on ‘surprises’, you get ready for the day extremely early in fear of him finding you still in your bed-wear attire and waiting for you to get ready. Thankfully, he does eventually show up in somewhat formal attire? Not like a whole suit but like maybe a white button up paired with a long coat and scarf which he will probably eventually take off cuz yk how the weather is. Bouquet of your fave flowers in hand, which counts as the first flowers you would have received from him (first of many).

He also would’ve done his hair similar to how it is in high school caste since Connie talked him into it because he would look cool like those “fancy vogue models”. He doesn’t realise that it looks a little silly until he is facing you and attempts to fix it into his normal hairstyle, but you stop him from doing that by grabbing his wrist and insist he still looks great. He is still unsure about it and seems very fiddly with his appearance during the day as he wanted to look his best for you.

But yeah, you go to the arcade first where Jean just wins you a bunch of sanrio plushies from claw machines like he was not stopping until you had every character alongside some “accidental” duplicates. He would be sooo good at claw machines as he has dedicated his pocket mooney to them as a child like you know how ppl display trophies and medals in their rooms, he would do that but with plushies which explains why he doesn’t let anyone into his room other than Marco (and you eventually).

Next is the art museum. He is such an art nerd, he would’ve been to this gallery before so he’d know all about the pieces on display. Who needs a tour guide when you have a Jean? He’d just ramble on about them to you from how they were displayed, what techniques were used with the mediums and how they’re taken care of until he realises that he’s talking too much and constantly apologises. Of course you don’t mind hearing him ramble, you also find it cute when he tries apologising for something so simple. I feel that he would be too used to interacting with Connie and Sasha and he cant talk for too long as they both have short-attention spans. He also explains to you how he has longed for one of his pieces to be displayed in this very gallery or at least some part of an exhibition/collection.

Next is the stroll at the park. The two of you walk around the lake, talking about school, random goals, Connie and Sasha, just a whole bunch of things with no pauses. Both of you do eventually get tired and decide to set up the picnic under a tree (aot reference i just realised that after typing lolzies) where you guys end up making flower crowns out of the bouquet he has give you alongside some smaller ones surrounding the two of you. You tell him that this whole picnic setup reminds you of a children’s tea party in which you both laugh at and results in you both talking in posh accents for a little.

As the days climax edges closer, you two are now just silently sitting next to each other with you both trying to catch glimpses of each other really quickly. Jean knew it was time. But when he goes too peak, that pre-written love confession memorised in his mind all disappears and is just stammering all of a sudden. You kind of know what he wants to say and you suggest to him that he shouldn’t look directly at you as that would make him more nervous and just to pay his attention to the lake in front of you two as the gentle waters would calm him down; and you would try to not look at him and not make any expression. This helps him gets his words and obv you accept his feelings and uh yeah hoorah u and jean are together now

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[writerfae]

Masterpiece – Part One

Welcome to another episode of “this could’ve easily been its own short story, but I am too attached to my Alder OCs to not make everything about them”.

I had this idea a while ago and thought it would be perfect for who? You guessed it! Aiden and Talon. So I wrote this. I decided to break it up in two parts, with part one being posted on Aiden's birthday - so today (Yay!)

I hope you'll enjoy it! ^^ (also Happy Birthday to my boy Aiden <3)

The young knight’s hair shines golden in the light of the sun that falls through the window behind him, illuminating the scene.

His armor is black, a stark contrast to the lightness of his hair and skin. He kneels before a tall figure dressed in finest robes of gold and black.

The man before the knight is young as well, probably not much older than the knight himself, but the crown adorning his dark locks leaves no doubt about his position.

The knight’s lips are pressed to the signet ring on the other man’s outstretched hand, a pledge of loyalty. His eyes never leave those of the young king, who looks back at him, seeming pleased.

There are other people in the background, too, but with the light that falls on the king and his knight and the look the two share, it feels almost intimate, as if they are the only ones in the ballroom.

Out of all the paintings at the Willow Museum of Art, this one is Aiden’s favorite. It is one of the lesser-known pieces, tugged away in a corner of the museum that isn’t as well visited as the rest.

A little treasure he had discovered on his very first visit as a freshman in college.

Aiden has been interested in art ever since he was a little boy, guided through an art gallery by his mother’s hand. But never before had he been so drawn to a painting.

He stumbled over it by accident, sitting down the nearest bench to tie his shoelaces. As he looked up, the painting caught his eye and Aiden found himself unable to look away.

There were many things to admire about the painting. The composition, the play between light and dark contrasts, the carefully painted details. But what really caught his attention were the two men portrayed.

One, a knight kneeling before his king, looked almost ethereal with the light that illuminated his handsome features and golden hair.

The sight of his beauty stirred something deep inside of Aiden, a feeling he couldn’t quite explain.

The knight’s lips were pressed against the knuckles of the other person at the center of the painting, his eyes fixed on the man in front of him.

Following his gaze, Aiden took a closer look at the figure – and couldn’t believe his eyes. Startled, he took a step back.

The other man – undoubtedly a king, judging by the crown on his head – looked exactly like him. He gasped.

It was as if Aiden himself was looking back at him from the painting. Or at least a version of himself. It was scary, really.

The king in the painting could’ve been his twin.

They had the same unruly dark locks, the same deep brown eyes and olive skin, even their noses were the same. If Aiden had to guess, their ages seemed to match, too.

For a moment, Aiden wondered if this king ever really lived, or if he only existed in the artist’s imagination.

He studied the small info sign by the painting, but it couldn’t answer his question. The piece was painted by an unknown Croatian artist.

It was a scene like he had seen on other paintings before, a knight showing his loyalty to his king.

Yet this was different, somehow. There was something about the fondness in both their eyes and the careful, almost gentle way the knight held the hand that he kissed, as if it was that of a lady he courted, rather than that of the king that he served.

It looked so much more private than one would expect from such a gesture. Intimate, even. Aiden almost felt like he wasn’t supposed to look at them, wasn’t supposed to witness this moment they shared.

Ever since that first encounter, Aiden had been enchanted by this painting. He came by almost every weekend just to look at it, to study it, to wonder what story the artist intended to tell with it.

He even made some sketches, using his new favorite painting as inspiration for his own art.

He did research, too, about the masterpiece and its creator, but without much success.

No art historian, no critic knew who the mysterious artist was. Just that he presumably was Croatian, because that was where the painting was from and that whoever it was must’ve been extremely talented to create such a fine piece of art.

There weren’t many interpretations for the painting itself, either. Aiden only found a handful of them, since it was by far no famous painting, even though he thought it should be.

One of these interpretations caught Aiden’s eyes in particular.

“What we see is a moment between a king and his loyal knight. But with the way the normally so formal gesture is portrayed, it could just as well be a private moment between lovers, hidden away behind the pretense of a normal courtesy.”

Lovers.

That seemed right. Aiden found it quite fitting. It matched the feeling he had whenever he looked at the two men on the painting, at the look they share, at the way the beautiful knight held the hand of his king.

It felt warm. Familiar.

These two obviously had a deep connection and Aiden somehow felt a connection to them as well. He didn’t know why.

Maybe it was because one of them looked so much like him.

He studied the face of the young king again. In his eyes lay such fondness that Aiden was certain that the man must be in love with the knight kneeling in front of him.

His affection seemed to practically radiate from the painted canvas.

It was the same for the knight in question, golden eyes filled with affection just as much as those of his king, if not more.

Everything in his posture spoke of pure devotion and fondness, of a loyalty deeper than that of a guard.

No, there was truly no doubt, at least not for Aiden. The more time he spent studying the painting, the more obvious it became.

These two were more than just a king and his knight. They loved one another.

That thought made Aiden smile.

He was so absorbed in the painting and his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the person that came to stand beside him, looking up to the painting with the same wonder Aiden did the first time he saw it.

Only when said person let out an awed gasp did he notice the young man. But he didn’t get a proper look at his new company because he already moved forward.

All Aiden saw was a flash of gold that caught his eye as the stranger passed him with fast steps, getting closer to the painting, presumably to get a better look at it.

Looking back at it, Aiden couldn’t tell what moved him to put aside his sketch book and approach the stranger.

Maybe it was just a feeling. Maybe it was because he never saw someone beside himself so fascinated by this painting before.

Or maybe it was destiny.

Either way he stood from the bench and came to stand beside the stranger, who looked up to the art piece, lips parted slightly in astonishment.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Aiden looked up to the painting, then he turned his gaze to the stranger.

The young man startled at his words. Quickly he turned to the side, facing Aiden with golden eyes wide with surprise and shock and Aiden felt like the world stopped turning.

He blinked. Once, twice.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Looking right at him was the knight from the painting.

Well, he wasn’t really the knight, of course. But he looked like him. Same fair skin and sharp features.

Same blonde hair and eyes of molten gold. He was handsome in a way that was almost otherworldly.

It was like he had just walked out of that painting, exchanging his armor for black jeans and a black sweater with a white collar.

Aiden saw his own surprise mirrored in the face in front of him. Apparently, the stranger had recognized the similarity between Aiden and the king on the painting as well.

Taking a step back from him almost as if he had just encountered a ghost, he put some distance between them, looking back and forth between the painting and Aiden’s face.

“How…” That was all that he managed to say.

Aiden couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself the same question ever since I first saw it.”

He looked up to the painting again. “It is kind of creepy, seeing your own face in a painting that is hundreds of years old. But at the same time, it’s pretty cool!”

He looked back at the other, smiling. “I’m Aiden, by the way.”

Aiden held out his hand to the stranger, who still seemed stunned, but took the offered hand anyway.

“Talon,” he said. And now he was smiling, too.

“Nice to meet you, Talon.” Aiden grinned.

“I never thought I’d get to meet the knight to my king.” he added, nodding to the painting.

Though he rolled his eyes, the other’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink at his words, much to Aiden’s delight.

“Do you want to know more about the painting? I could tell you about it. I’m sort of an expert by now.”

Talon smiled at him again, a soft smile that reminded Aiden of the knight on the painting and made his heart skip a beat.

“That would be nice.”

.

tag list: @andifthestarsweretodie @bloodlessheirbyjacques @bluehourskyeli @deadlycupid @dustylovelyrun @justafrogandherumbrella @ladywithalamp @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @my-cursed-prince @phantasticdomains @rhikasa @saltysupercomputer @sleepy-night-child @soupopoireau @theguywithnonickname @thewalkingnerd @vampywriter @vsnotresponding @writing-is-a-martial-art (if you want to be added or removed from the tag list let me know!)

[berrychanx]

Purin Fong - Character Development

I love Purin so much, either in the original, manga or the remake. I feel like the remake truly captured her chaotic energy, she’s always moving, she never stops.

She embraces the Monkey Spirit inside her, seeing her being an hyperactive child inside the museum and acting like a monkey was pure bliss to me...funny how no one had the guts to stop her. I  guess she’s just a force of nature, nothing can stop her intense energy.

Reject Humanity ... Return to Monke

I’ve already told my opinion on Purin new transformation sequence which can be found here Despite its introduction being rather short and fast compared to the other girls transformation, I love how it incorporates her animal traits and folclore, seen by using the tail as spring to jump. Seems like something she would do (how that works let’s not question it) To me she stills remains the same as her original counterpart but with a few extras making her more fun and relatable a bit to my family members.

Let me explain, I have 8 nephews (I have 2 older brothers, 1 has 6 kids, the other has 2)

,i have  a niece 1 year older than me, a niece 1 year younger than me and the rest is 2 to 3 years apart and we’ve all grew up together. My brother is the man of the house, the only one working and umm my sister-in-law...let’s not talk about her, she’s a mess, let’s say she’s like Purin dad in that aspect.. absent.

Despite her ruling her house with an iron fist, she never did any house chores....she would leave the work to me and my 2 nieces and later when the rest was already in Purin siblings age they would too help around the house.

This was something the manga always had implied, that despite Purin living alone wit her siblings they would help her anyway they could.

In small things like cleaning the dishes Like @godtierwallflower mentions is nice to see Purin paying the same attention to all of her siblings in New, unluike in the original where she seemed to favorite the girl. Her working as a street performance to raise money for her siblings is STILL ADDRESSED in her Petit Mew Mew Introduction. And like I’ve mentioned in the episode review.

I’m glad New changed her father background story, to quote GodTierWallFlower they’ve changed  to a vaguer “working overseas” instead of a “traveling across the world to improve his martial arts” because the latter was very rooted in the tropes of 90s anime like Ranma) And he’s behavior of a father makes it more reckless, when he has a dojo back at home ... But still speaking of her father

In New, even if he’s working over-seas, he’s an absent figure in Purin development a growth as a person, his face is obscured, and he’s turned away and distant, looking elsewhere, because that’s all Bu-ling’s image of him is.Meanwhile, her mother is facing them with a bright smile, the same sort of smile and exuberance that Bu-ling wants to have..

It isn’t even clear on whether he supports them financially or not. Bu-ling still does her best to earn her own money, and lives frugally, even making candy instead of buying it.

His role in her life is defined by absence, in a way that her late mother’s is not She feels her mother’s presence in everything, talks to her while she’s going to sleep, searching for the ghost of her in little things. She’s dead, and she still is the one pushing Bu-ling’s dreams and motivating her.

Even now, towards the end of the series, her brothers are always in her thoughts, thinking about their safety and their future.

She even invites TaruTaru to live with them, once the battle is over, her siblings would like him without a doubt.

She’s a great kid, I would love to continue to follow her growth as a character . It would be so interesting to see what Purin becomes in the future. What career she chooses, how her relationship will TaruTaru develop, etc. I wish i had more to say, but there’s still episodes left and I wonder what wait us, specially by the finale.

[danielfeketewrites]

Not Normal About Doctor Who

Back in June, I went to a fae-themed picnic with my girlfriend and my girlfriend's girlfriend (not an official title, they're not dating (or are they?)) and my girlfriend's girlfriend confessed that next month she's not going to be normal about Good Omens. She just knew it. I guess a large portion of tumblr can relate.

I replied that I am definitely going to be less and less normal about Doctor Who when we get closer to November.

Well, I was right. It's like a full moon is for a werewolf. For the past month, there hasn't been a single hour when I haven't thought about Doctor Who for at least a little bit. Maybe when I'm asleep. Maybe. Sometimes, I'm just lying in my bed, thinking about Doctor Who for hours and hours.

I've started reading two Doctor Who books. The first is an eighth Doctor book called Alien Bodies by Lawrence Miles. The second is an anthology - The Target Storybook.

I've also been writing my own short story for a small Czech fanfic competition. I picked a more recent Doctor rather than a classic one, which is quite unusual for me. (It's a Thasmin story set in the Land of Fiction. Yeah.)

I've been scrollig through the eyespider website (check it out if you haven't already), spotting stories that I would place elsewhere. Thinking about making my own version. Again. I once tried to make my own version as a Czech translation of the original website, but now I actually want to do it as a way to track which Doctor Who stories from the EU I've experienced. Also, fixing the placements that I disagree with. That's a big reason as well.

Also scrolling through Altered Vistas again. And TARDIS Wiki, but that one's obvious. Although I do recommend checking out the old classics like Fire, Grass, and, of course, the best one.

I've obviously rewatched some stuff. Outside of The Mind Robber and Shada, I'm watching series four with my mum and my girlfriend in preparation for the 60th anniversary trilogy, because they haven't seen the episodes with Donna before.

I've also been listening to some Big Finish. Mainly Once and Future, but I'm also thinking about listening to 10th Doctor and Donna boxsets, as well as the Companion Chronicles stuff featuring Sara Kingdom.

Probably gonna read more comics very soon, it seems inevitable. Maybe that digital scan of Abslom Daak - The Dalek Killer that somehow appeared on my external harddrive? Some 13th Doctor comics too. I desperately need to find more stories with her that I actually like.

I can name every Doctor Who TV story in order. But the other day, I caught myself trying to also remember every writer to all of the stories in the 60s Who. I'm gonna have to memorise that one properly, I still have some gaps. The Space Museum was written by Glyn Jones.

I've been thinking about sharing my top 10 favourite stories for each Doctor here, on tumblr. And yes, those top 10s are gonna include EU stories. Some of them will have more EU stories than TV stories. I will obviously have to update them next year. Could be my new November tradition!

Oh, and I'm also writing a Doctor Who fanzine for a Czech Doctor Who by-fans-for-fans convention. I am also one of the organisers of said convention.

So yeah. I'm not normal about Doctor Who right now. And The Star Beast hasn't even aired yet! Meep meep!

art by Dave Gibbons