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kairoot · 1 year ago

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𝑴𝑶𝑶𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 — 西村力.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: during the village’s annual moon festival, the moon shines big and bright. legend says that it reveals a person’s true emotions under its light and can rekindle lost feelings. when you move to the little romance village, it’s bustling with talk of the festival and a famous local painter. deciding to see what the gossip was about, you attend said moon festival. but what happens when you run into this unknown artist under the moon’s light?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: niki x 𝑓．𝗋𝖾��𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : fluff , s2l, soulmates (???), folklore kinda thing.. 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 : no 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : riki is kind of a loner .. ( 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ) : special thank you to nini ^^ @flwrstqr for proofreading for me, I love u ♡︎. pls leave reblogs, they are much appreciated !! ♡︎ WC: 3.3K

THE VILLAGE SQUARE WAS a kaleidoscope of lights, colors, and laughter. Lanterns hung from just about every surface, casting a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone streets. The air was full of sweet scents, coming from every corner of the small town.

You weaved through the large crowd, taking in all of the sights and sounds. It was beyond anything you’d ever experienced. Being a new resident to the town, you couldn’t understand what all of the excitement was about over one festival but now you felt the same way everyone else did.

Melodic strains of the village’s music played, causing people all around to dance together, not caring if they were strangers to one another. You smiled, the sight somehow bringing you joy.

After walking a few miles, an older shop catches your eye. The traditional decorations hanging outside the tiny building, with a crescent moon sketched on the wooden door. You opened it to walk in, the small bell ringing as the door moved.

You were greeted with the sharp tang of an earthy aroma of dried clay and the rich smell of more wood from the easels, frames, and shelves. The subtle hint of fresh pencil shavings, and the crisp scent of new canvases waiting to be transformed.

A few employees smiled and waved at you, their kindness making you feel welcome as you got ready to explore this new environment. The store was quiet; the only noise being a few painters conversing with one another, the low traditional music that played in the background, and pencils or paintbrushes moving against the canvases.

You walked further into the shop, wandering around the shelves to look at different tools and paintings that had been hung up on display.

You ran your hand over the wooden shelf, another crescent moon etched into the dark surface.

This town is serious about the moon, you thought.

You continued your mini journey through the aisles, amazed by some of the artistry inside of them.

But a certain painting seems to pique your interest. You let your feet guide you to the image, captivated by the delicate brushstrokes that brought the scene to life. Just as you let your fingertips graze the painting, another hand brushed against yours. Startled, you pulled your hand away at the same time as the other person’s, causing the art to fall to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologize to the stranger, before you both chuckle at the small incident. The stranger crouches to pick the canvas up from the ground, holding it with a firm grasp.

You look up, only to see a much taller male in front of you, dressed in all black with a paint splattered apron tied around his waist. His eyes sharp but filled with surprise as he stared back at you.

His beauty captivated you in a way. In a way where you couldn’t even find your words or perhaps even start a conversation.

You both stood silently until he sucked in a breath, hesitant on whether he wanted to say something.

“So, uh—, arts’ your thing, too?” He glanced at the painting in his hands and then back at you, a gentle smile making its way to his face.

“I guess I’ve found it kind of interesting lately,” you beamed, feeling a bit more at ease. “What about you?”

“Yeah, uh, this is mine actually..” He trailed off. Your eyes widened in surprise, suddenly feeling guilty for the incident that had occurred a few minutes earlier.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to knock it down, I was just curious, and—“

He looked down, chuckling, “It’s no problem. I was thinking of chunking it anyway.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “But it’s way too good for you to just throw away like that.”

He shrugged, still smiling a bit. “I don’t know.. I’m just not too fond of it.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Why’s that? It seems really beautiful to me.”

He looked at you with a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes. “Well, if you’re interested, you can make your own. I give mini-lessons from time to time. If you’re free, I’d be happy to show you some techniques.”

A smile crept onto your face. “I’d love that.”

“I’m Riki, by the way.” He extended his larger hand.

You shook his hand, the warm and firm grip making you feel as if you had butterflies in your stomach.

“Y/n.”

The sunlight filtered gently through the shop's windows, casting a warm, inviting glow over the art supplies and canvases. You arrived at the store a bit early, your excitement barely contained. Riki was setting up a small workspace in the back corner, his movements precise and deliberate. The room was filled with the rich scents of paint and wood, a comforting backdrop for the lesson ahead.

“Hey,” Riki greeted as you walked in, his smile making your heart flutter. “Ready for your mini-lesson?”

You nodded, trying to maintain a calm exterior but feeling a tingle of nerves. “Definitely!”

Riki’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he motioned for you to join him at the small table. “Alright, grab an apron and we’ll start with some basics. I’ll show you how to create depth and texture in your painting.”

You took one of the dark aprons off of the hook by the door and took a seat. Riki’s proximity made you acutely aware of his presence. He stood close enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the earthy aroma of the paint. As he demonstrated the brushstrokes, his hand occasionally brushed against yours, sending a shy smile to your lips.

“Alright, so you want to use a light touch for the highlights,” Riki said, his voice warm and encouraging. He leaned in slightly to show you the technique up close, his face just inches from yours. The closeness made your cheeks warm, and you found it hard to focus on the painting as you became acutely aware of the soft sound of his breath and the gentle way he spoke.

“Like this,” he continued, guiding your hand with his own. His fingers were careful and steady, and you felt a gentle pressure as he helped you maneuver the brush. “The key is to layer the colors gradually, so it builds up the texture without looking too harsh.”

His hand lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him. Riki’s eyes were soft, and his smile was reassuring. “You’re doing great. Just remember to relax and let the brush do the work.”

You nodded, trying to steady your breath as you followed his instructions. The way he spoke to you, with such patience and attentiveness, made your heart race. Each time he leaned in to offer guidance, you felt a flutter of shyness but also an endearing sense of comfort.

Riki moved to the other side of the table, giving you space but still offering occasional tips and encouragement. “You’re really picking this up fast,” he said with genuine admiration, his voice carrying a note of pride. “You have a natural eye for detail..”

You blushed at his compliment, focusing on your painting with renewed determination. “Thanks. I’ve really enjoyed learning from you.”

He smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting a hint of something more than just professional interest. “I’ve enjoyed having you as my ‘student’.”

As the lesson continued, you found yourself growing more confident. Riki’s careful instruction and the way he interacted with you made the experience both educational and heartwarming. Every time he offered a correction or praised your work, it felt like a gentle nudge toward something greater.

By the end of the session, you were both smiling, the painting before you a testament to the techniques Riki had shared. “I think you’re ready for more advanced techniques next time,” he said, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “But for now, you’ve done really great.”

You beamed, feeling a mix of accomplishment and affection for the kind-hearted teacher who had made your art journey so special. “Thank you. I can’t wait for our next lesson.”

As you packed up your things, Riki’s gaze lingered on you with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m looking forward to it too,” he said softly. “See you soon.”

You left the shop with a smile, carrying not just the knowledge of painting but also the warmth of a shared connection.

A few days later, the festival was in full swing again, but this time it was a different night. You decided to take a quiet walk to a nearby beach, not too far from the festival setup. The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silver light over the ocean waves.

You carried with you a small set of painting materials, inspired by the techniques Riki had taught you. Setting up on the sand, you began to paint the scene before you: the moonlit waves and the gentle shimmer of the water. With each brushstroke, you used the tips he had given you, trying to capture the serene beauty of the moment.

The night was quiet, save for the soft sound of the waves and the occasional distant laughter from the festival. As you worked, you felt a sense of peace and contentment, lost in the beauty of the moment.

After a while, you sensed someone approaching. Turning slightly, you saw Riki walking towards you, his eyes bright with curiosity and admiration. He stopped a few feet away, watching you paint with a soft smile on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice gentle. "I didn't expect to find you here."

You smiled back, feeling a flutter of happiness at his presence. "I needed some quiet time to practice. I’ve been kind of inspired."

Riki moved closer, sitting down next to you on the sand. His proximity was comforting, and you felt a warm sense of connection as he admired your work. "You've really captured the essence of the scene," he said, his eyes scanning your painting. "It's like seeing the world through your eyes."

His compliment made your heart swell with pride. "Thanks.. I’ve been trying to use the techniques you taught me.”

“Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his face. “My techniques?”

You chuckled lightly, nodding, “Yes, your technique.”

You continued to paint, occasionally glancing at Riki, who watched with genuine interest.

The moonlight cast a soft glow on his features, making the moment feel even more magical. After a while, Riki spoke, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

"You know, the legend of the moon... it's said to reveal the truth about one's emotions," he began, his eyes fixed on the waves. "I've always been afraid to let the moon see mine, not after what happened before."

You looked at him with curiosity. “What happened?”

He sighed softly, looking out at the ocean. “I once let the moonlight reveal my true feelings and it led to heartbreak. It was... painful.. But that’s a story for another day..”

He turned to you, his eyes sincere and vulnerable. “Somehow, being with you, I don’t feel that fear. There’s something about tonight, and about you, that makes me believe in the magic of the moon again.”

You felt a pang of sympathy and reached out, gently placing your hand on his. “Riki, you don’t have to talk about it if you’re not comfortable.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. “Thank you. It’s just... hard to think about sometimes. The pain was so real, and it made me afraid to show my true emotions again.”

You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Take your time. I’m here. Though we met nights ago, I’m here.”

Riki‘s eyes softened, and he gave you a small, appreciative smile. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

The moon’s light bathed the beach in a gentle glow, illuminating the quiet understanding between you. Riki’s honesty and openness resonated deeply, and you felt a sense of connection that was both comforting and profound.

He shifted slightly, moving closer to you until your shoulders almost touched. The warmth of his body next to yours was a silent reassurance, a wordless promise of support. “You’re really something, you know that?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you turned to look at him, finding his gaze already on you. “I could say the same about you,” you replied, feeling the intimacy of the moment deepen.

Riki’s eyes held a mixture of vulnerability and strength, a silent testament to the pain he carried and the bravery it took to admit it. He took a deep breath, his fingers brushing against yours as he spoke. “It’s just... sometimes the memories are too painful. But being here with you, it makes it a little easier to bare.”

You felt a surge of tenderness for him, your heart aching at the thought of the hurt he’d endured. “I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”

He nodded, his eyes glistening with unspoken emotion. “Thank you. It’s... it’s a lot, but knowing I have someone who understands means everything.”

The waves whispered their secrets to the shore, and the moon shone down, wrapping you both in its gentle embrace. The moment was filled with quiet revelations and tender support, a reminder that sometimes, the simple act of being present could be the greatest comfort of all.

As the night continued, you returned to your painting, the brush gliding smoothly across the canvas. Riki watched you with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with admiration and something more—a tenderness that was growing stronger with each passing moment.

Unbeknownst to both of you, the moonlight was beginning to take effect, subtly enhancing the emotions between you. Every glance exchanged, every soft touch, carried a deeper meaning, an unspoken promise of what could be.

You finished your painting, setting the brush down and turning to Riki. He reached out, taking your hand in his. “Come on,” he said softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let’s take a break.”

He led you to the water’s edge, where the waves gently lapped at the shore. The cool water splashed over your feet, sending a delightful shiver up your spine. Riki laughter filled the air, infectious and free, and you couldn’t help but join in.

You ran along the shoreline, the waves chasing after you, and for a moment, all your worries melted away. Riki caught up to you, grabbing your hand and spinning you around, both of you laughing as you stumbled into the shallow waves.

The moonlight danced on the water, casting a magical glow over everything. You splashed each other, the cool water mingling with the warmth of your laughter. Riki’s hand never left yours, his grip firm yet gentle, grounding you in the moment.

At one point, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as the waves rolled in. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you under the moon’s tender gaze. You looked up at him, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name but felt deeply in your soul.

“Riki,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the ocean.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “I know,” he replied softly, his breath mingling with yours. “I feel it too.”

The moonlight seemed to intensify, casting a silver halo around you both. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken words and shared feelings. Then, with a gentle tug, Riki led you back to the shore, where you sat together, the waves gently lapping at your feet.

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you. The night was filled with love-filled glances and quiet intimacy, a perfect blend of comfort and connection. The magic of the moon had done its work, weaving a spell of closeness that would linger long after the night had ended.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythmic sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop. Riki’s fingers traced gentle patterns on your hand, his touch sending a pleasant shiver through you. He seemed lost in thought, and you didn’t want to disturb the quiet peace that had settled over you both.

But then, as if needing to break the silence, he spoke again, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever fully heal from what happened. It’s like a part of me is still stuck in that moment.”

You turned to him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. “Healing takes time, Riki. And it’s okay to feel that way. Just remember, you don’t have to face it alone.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I do. Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay too.”

Riki’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours.

The intimacy of the moment deepened, the air around you thick with unspoken emotions. Riki’s fingers continued to trace gentle patterns on your hand, each touch sending a warm, tingling sensation through you. You could feel the connection between you growing stronger, the bond solidifying in a way that felt both natural and profound.

As the night wore on, the two of you shared stories, laughter, and moments of comfortable silence. You found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing parts of yourself you usually kept hidden. Riki listened with genuine interest, his responses thoughtful and kind.

Eventually, the lure of the waves became irresistible again, and you found yourselves splashing through the shallows, once again, laughing and playing like children. Riki’s laughter was infectious, his joy a balm to your soul. You chased each other through the surf, the cool water a delightful contrast to the warmth of your growing affection.

At one point, Riki caught you around the waist, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You laughed, the sound pure and free, your heart swelling with happiness. He set you down gently, his arms still wrapped around you as the waves hit your ankles.

The moonlight bathed you both in its gentle glow, casting a magical light over the scene. Riki’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “For everything.”

You smiled, your heart full. “I should be the one thanking you. This has been... amazing.”

Riki’s eyes held a promise, a silent vow of what could be. “Let’s make a pact,” he said softly. “No more hiding. From the moon, from each other, from ourselves.”

You nodded, feeling a surge of hope and determination. “Deal.”

The night continued, filled with love-filled glances, quiet intimacy, and the gentle lapping of the waves. The magic of the moon had woven a spell of connection and understanding, one that would linger long after the festival lights had faded. As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you knew that this night would be a cherished memory, a moment of pure, unadulterated connection.

And as Riki‘s hand found yours once more, you knew that even if you had met only nights before, for some reason you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

✩

TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @flwrstqr @elysianiki — send an ask to join.

#kairoot #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #niki enhypen #enhypen niki #nishimura riki #niki x reader #niki fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #enhypen fanfiction #𝒮𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑑，ℳ𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑛 ⊹ ₊˚

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ocelot-t · 3 months ago

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some information about Alastor (Al or Alan in my story) and his family

Before I delve into my story further, I should mention that the characters in my story have deviated significantly from their original version in many ways. While they retain some similarities to Hazbin Hotel's original characters, they are essentially my own OCs, inspired by them. Some of the changes I've made to their design and background may seem inconsistent with the canon, but I have done this intentionally for the sake of my narrative. I'm saying this to avoid any conflicts.

Al’s father, Henry Ross, is a shipbuilder. One of Al’s hobbies as an adult is to make model ships.

Ethel Ross, Al's mom, is mixed, worked as a singer at one of the local bars. Al began working part-time at the bar at a young age.

His family managed to avoid total poverty thanks to the fact that Al’s father sent them money from time to time. Al was able to escape the depths of despair by spending time with his father, who occasionally visited and took him on hunting trips.

Before the birth of Al, there was a young painter named Paul who fell in love with Ethel. He used to visit the bar she worked at, often sketching visitors and musicians, but he focused his attention mainly on her. However, Paul never took their relationship seriously, much to Ethel's disappointment. When she finally realized that she was just a fleeting amusement to him, she decided to cut off all communication with him and concealed all the portraits he had done of her. Later on, Al would discover these hidden paintings and it will sparking his interest in art.

Also working at the same bar where Ethel performed was Mia. She was searching for financial opportunities while she goes to the casting for cinema. It was during Mia's performances at the bar that she first encountered Al, who was still in his early years of studying in the Academy. Through their shared work environment, Al and Mia developed a close friendship. Mia not only offered Al emotional support after the loss of his mother but also saved him from several difficult situations. Al periodically defended her in return, as well as suggested ideas for performances, decorations and costumes, because he knew a lot about art history.

Driven by a sense of guilt, Paul agreed to mentor Al and support him throughout his studies. After the passing of his mother, Al took on a second job to make ends meet, which frequently caused him to skip classes. Al would often draw late into the night either at home or at the Academy, sometimes even requesting the key to the auditorium from Paul after regular classes were finished.

Meeting Rosie and becoming (*cough* really close) friends with her made things easier for Al. She offered him financial help, enough for him to quit one of his jobs. Rosie tried to keep her father from noticing how much she was spending on Al.

Paul sometimes gave Al his art materials.

At the age of 27, Al died shortly after completing his studies at the Academy. Though Al put on a brave face and claimed to be fine, only a select few knew the truth about his struggle to cope with Rosie's death.

Yes, there is quite a lot of information, but that's not all. quite a lot more needs to be written down. I've already posted the same text about Rose and her family, as well as much more about this story. so if you are interested in my work, I recommend telegram.

#decayAU #radiorose #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel human au #hazbin hotel AU

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blueiscoool · 21 days ago

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Huge Roman 'Jigsaw' Reveals 2,000-Year-Old Wall Paintings

Archaeologists have pieced together thousands of fragments of 2,000-year-old wall plaster to reveal remarkable frescoes that decorated a luxurious Roman villa.

The shattered plaster was discovered in 2021 at a site in central London that's being redeveloped, but it's taken until now to reconstruct this colossal jigsaw puzzle.

The frescoes are from at least 20 walls of the building, with beautifully painted details of musical instruments, birds, flowers and fruit.

The art is revealing more about the affluence of the area where they were found - described by the team as the "Beverly Hills of Roman London".

There are also clues about who the artists were: one fragment is scored with the Latin word Fecit, which means "has made this" - but the piece where the name should be is missing.

The Museum of London Archaeology (Mola) team still hope the vital piece will be found as they sift through the fragments.

"It's one of the biggest - if not the biggest - assemblages of Roman wall plaster and paintings we've ever found in Roman London," said Han Li from Mola.

The largest of the frescoes, measuring about 5m by 3m, has a lower section of pale pink, dotted with specks of paint to imitate marble. Above are rich yellow panels with soft green borders.

The wall paintings are adorned with candelabras, stringed instruments called lyres, white cranes and a delicate daisy.

There's also what appears to be a bunch of grapes, but archaeobotanists believe that this is a plant that grows locally - mistletoe.

"That is actually quite interesting for me, because you're seeing that the Roman painters are taking a classical idea and they're very much putting their own North West European, or local, twist on it. I think that's magnificent," says Han Li.

He spent many months with the jumble of plaster, meticulously examining each piece to put together what he describes as "the world's most difficult jigsaw puzzle".

The fragility of the ancient fragments made this even more of a challenge.

"You have to be very careful because you can only assemble the pieces a small number of times before the plaster starts to be damaged and it flakes off," he said.

"So you have to be quite sure before you join the pieces that this is the piece that may fit."

The Romans founded London in AD43, and the villa was built soon after, dating to the first or second century when the new city was growing rapidly.

The archaeologists think this grand building may have been home to a wealthy family or a hotel for rich travellers passing through Londinium.

They've been comparing the frescoes to others found across Britain and Europe, and they believe they were created by a group of highly skilled painters who travelled the Roman empire.

"They've come to Roman London where there was a building boom, with many houses and many buildings going up that required painting. And they went around essentially taking on huge commissions of work," said Han Li.

"It's amazing to imagine that their work is now again visible to us 2,000 years later."

The artists' exact identity however will remain elusive until the missing fragment bearing their names is found.

The plaster was found in Southwark, just south of the Thames. A stunning mosaic and Roman cemetery were also unearthed at the site, which was being excavated in preparation for a new development.

This location, outside of the central hub of Roman London, is also revealing more about how the city was spreading out.

"There was this thriving, bustling settlement quite early on in the Roman period, and it's almost the kind of wealthy suburb - the Beverly Hills of Roman London," said Andrew Henderson-Schwartz from Mola.

"And what this shows is that the Romans are committing to London. They're investing in London, and they're seeing it as a place to settle in, a place to stay. It's not just a kind of provincial outpost."

There's still much to discover from the fresco fragments, helping archaeologists reconstruct the story of the UK's rich Roman history.

By Rebecca Morelle and Alison Francis.

#Huge Roman 'Jigsaw' Reveals 2000-Year-Old Wall Paintings #london #“Beverly Hills of Roman London”#roman villa #ancient artifacts #archeology #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #roman empire #roman art #ancient art

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sunshine-zenith · 5 months ago

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Modern AU where Ekko is a live wedding painter

He’s still an engineer and budding scientist, still involved in his local community and local politics, but he’s also able to pursue art, and he specifically gets to capture moments of happiness in a unique way, creating memories on the spot for couples to revisit over and over

He obviously gives a hefty family discount when Vander and Silco have their second wedding (and nearly drops his entire paint pallet every time he overhears Benzo joke about not wanting to be dragged into their knife fight again if they get a second divorce). (He realizes as he paints them that even though he sees them nearly everyday, even though they’re practically his uncles, they have more gray hairs and lines around their eyes than he thought. He’s a guest as well so he doesn’t spend the entire time working in the piece, but when he does, he makes sure he captures the joy in the lines around their eyes and mouths when they look at each other)

He nearly overcharges Jayce when hired because Jayce had a flare up of his chronic Foot In Mouth Disease during their consultation, but is able to reel himself in after meeting the person Jayce is marrying (if it’s Mel, they’re able to bond over art and actually eventually have a surprisingly vulnerable and honest debate about politics; if it’s Viktor they end up talking about growing up in the Undercity, what being Zaunites mean to them, and how it ultimately ended up shaping their passions for the sciences, plus they share gardening tips during wedding planning; if it’s both then he and Mylo quietly place bets on Mel and Viktor both leaving Jayce at the alter and just marry each other instead at the reception. They don’t, obviously, and Ekko has to admit it’s a beautiful and surprisingly intimate reception — just close, trusted friends and family, Viktor and Mel dressed in golds that Ekko spent days trying to color match leading up to the wedding, and Jayce and Viktor decorating their mobility aids to match. They’re an odd group, but as he paints he finds they fit together surprisingly well. He makes sure to paint Jayce crying no matter the scenario and gets away with it because the man was sobbing like a baby basically the entire time)

When Vi and Cait get married, Ekko point blank refuses to charge them. He makes it clear that if Mylo or Claggor also get married he won’t charge them either. Sure, the Kirammans can more than afford it, but he will not make Vi pay a damn penny and would be offended if she tried. (They ultimately don’t have him paint during the ceremony or reception, too involved in the wedding party/as a guest, going with a photographer hired by the Kirammans instead, but when Vi and Caitlyn come back from their honeymoon, they find a nearly life sized portrait of them during the ceremony, Vi dressed in her suit, her hair slicked back by Silco, staring up at Caitlyn in her uniform and heels, both of them smiling crooked and quirked smiles. Caitlyn is holding a bouquet of violets, her favorite flower, and Ekko made sure to paint every petal)

At Powder’s wedding, he isn’t hired as a live painter, obviously. He’s a little too busy for that the entire night, given it’s his wedding as well, but both of them do still bust out the paints. Both of them wear white, not because of any tradition or symbolism, but because white makes for such a nice canvas. They get ready in the same room and walk down the aisle covered in spray paint, glitter, and even a few scorch marks, and when they dance together at the reception, Ekko already knows he’ll be painting a thousand pictures of the night from memory

(Their guests also walk away covered in paint and with singed outfits. Powder rigged a few paint bombs because it’s her wedding and she can do whatever she and Ekko want. Scar comes very close to sending them a glitter bomb in retaliation for having to pick glitter out of his daughter’s fur for the next three weeks)

#ekko arcane #arcane #arcane AU #timebomb #caitvi #jayvik #meljavik #zaundads #meljay

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scaredstupid · 2 months ago

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Just a Toy

Summary: Local asshole who hates everything discovers he has a soft spot for the town seamstress. (my first (public) selfship fic!!! i worked so hard on this i hope y'all like it 😭)

At the far end of town, there sat a stately mansion atop a hill. And in that mansion, there lived a man by the name of Barnaby.

He lived completely alone, and never had much company save for the two goons he had hired to assist him in his very illegal schemes - but he liked it that way.

You see, old Barnaby was as sweet as a snapping turtle and as romantic as a rash. He despised most everything—bright colors, sweet treats, smiling children, happy songs— anything that would bring any normal person joy. For this reason, people tended to avoid talking to him too much.

...that is, most people.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door. "Mr. Barnaby, are you home?" a familiar, sweet-sounding voice called. "I've brought you a little something."

He looked down from his attic window. It was none other than Miss Penny Palette, the local seamstress/painter who had taken a strange liking to him. Perhaps I'll hide and wait until she goes away, he thought.

No, that would never work. She's terribly stubborn. Knowing her, she'll stand there for hours until I come out.

Barnaby sighed and started heading downstairs. "Just a moment," he called.

He opened the front door and sure enough, there was Penny, standing there with a great big grin on her face and her hands behind her back. "Hi, Mr. Barnaby!" she said happily. "How're you doing on this lovely day?"

"Lovely day indeed," he retorted. "Makes me sick. You can come in for a bit, I suppose."

Penny practically skipped inside, still being careful to not reveal whatever it was she was hiding behind her back.

"What do you have there?"

"Oh, you got me!" Penny's grin somehow got even bigger, and she showed him her hands. "I've been working on this all week!"

Resting in her palms was a tiny toy crow, complete with a little top hat. "I made this 'specially for you," she said. "I call him Junior. I hope you like him."

Barnaby was suddenly, uncharacteristically, overcome with emotion. He carefully took the little stuffed bird from her hands and studied it.

"Well?" she asked. "Do you like it?"

He looked at her, then back at the toy. "It's...alright," he said, trying not to let his voice crack. "It should make for a fine decoration up in my attic."

Penny smiled. Coming from him, this was high praise. "Oh, I'm so glad," she laughed a little, "I was scared you weren't gonna like it at all."

The room was comfortably silent for a moment. "Well, uh, I gotta get back to work," said Penny. "I'm sure there's lotsa orders coming in, and you know I can't keep the people waiting!"

As she stepped outside, she turned and waved. "See you later," she said. "I hope I made your day a little brighter."

With this, she shut the door and quickly walked back to her little shop, humming all the while.

Barnaby leaned his back up against the door. He thought about Penny and her sparkly brown eyes. Penny and her sweet smile. Penny and this inexplicable, unprompted act of kindness...

His eyes widened.

To his own shock and horror,

Barnaby had fallen in love.

#im so scared posting this but it's fine . It's fine #runs away into the fog #kiera's writing #selfship #selfshipping #self ship fic #self ship fanfiction #Cough .#r: castle in spain #s/i: 🧵🪡

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pathsofart · 2 months ago

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The painting "Winter Landscape" is a work of art by Pekka Halonen, a Finnish painter known for his realistic depictions of nature and Finnish people. Halonen was born on September 23, 1865, and died on December 1, 1933.

The artist was a master of Finnish landscapes, absorbing international trends and applying them to local nature. He had a special interest in symbolism, but Gauguin's decorative synthetism and Japanese woodcuts had a greater impact on his work.

Halonen built his studio house, Halosenniemi, on the shore of Lake Tuusula between 1899 and 1902. He was also a conservationist, a radical idea for his time.

The painting "Winter Landscape" is one of Halonen's beautiful winter landscapes, capturing the beauty of Nordic nature.

#art #art history #classical art #painting #oil painting #history of art #european art #art blog

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daycare-care · 2 months ago

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Memorial Day Activity batch!

Coloring pages

Activity sheets

Quests:

Flag Painter’s Mission

Story: The town’s parade is missing its flags! You’ve been chosen to help. Quest:

Draw or paint the American flag (or make your own flag for your plushie town).

Use red, white, and blue crayons, markers, or stickers.

Optional: Tape it to a straw or stick and wave it proudly!

Little Bonus: March around your room in a pretend flag parade!

Thank-You Letter Delivery

Story: The local plushie post office needs help delivering thank-you notes to heroes. Quest:

Write or draw a card saying “Thank you” to a soldier, helper, or community hero (even a plushie hero!).

Decorate it with stars, hearts, or stickers.

"Deliver" it to a plushie or leave it in a pretend mailbox.

Picnic Planner Patrol

Story: The plushies are having a special Memorial Day picnic and need your help! Quest:

Set up a small picnic (real or pretend).

Use a blanket, cups, snacks, and napkins.

Invite plushies or toys to attend.

Bonus Task: Make a paper plate craft with a red, white, and blue theme!

Poppy Garden Keeper

Story: The memorial garden needs new flowers for today’s ceremony. Quest:

Make red paper or felt poppies (or draw them).

“Plant” them around your space or in a pretend garden.

Have a quiet moment to thank the plushie helpers who protect the garden.

Plushie Parade Leader

Story: You’re in charge of the Memorial Day plushie parade! Quest:

Line up plushies in a row.

March around with music or drum a beat.

Wave a little flag or wear red/white/blue clothes.

Fun Add-On: Create floats with blocks, LEGOs, or boxes!

Hero Medal Maker

Story: You need to give bravery medals to the local heroes! Quest:

Cut out paper circles or stars.

Color and decorate them as “hero medals.”

Pin them to your plushies or display them on a wall.

Optional Phrase to Say: “Thank you for your courage and kindness!”

Red, White, & Blue Snack Helper

Story: You're the snack chef for the Memorial Day celebration! Quest:

Make a snack like strawberries + blueberries + whipped cream or yogurt.

Serve it on a special plate.

Enjoy it outside or near a window like a cozy picnic.

SNACKS AND DRINKS!

🍓 1. Red, White & Blue Yogurt Parfaits

You’ll Need:

Vanilla yogurt (or dairy-free version)

Strawberries (sliced)

Blueberries

Granola or crushed graham crackers (optional)

How to Make:

In a cup, layer yogurt, strawberries, and blueberries.

Repeat the layers to make it look pretty!

Top with granola or a dollop of whipped cream.

Extra Cozy Tip: Use a clear cup so you can see the layers!

⭐ 2. Star-Spangled Fruit Wands

You’ll Need:

Watermelon or strawberries

Banana slices

Blueberries

Skewers or safe popsicle sticks

Star-shaped cookie cutter

How to Make:

Cut watermelon into stars using a cookie cutter.

Slide fruit onto skewers in red-white-blue pattern.

Put a watermelon star at the top like a magic wand!

Little Tip: Make one for you and one for your favorite plushie!

🍪 3. Patriotic Pudding Cups

You’ll Need:

Instant vanilla pudding

Red and blue food coloring

Whipped topping

Clear cups

How to Make:

Make pudding and divide into 3 parts.

Leave one white, dye one red, one blue.

Layer red, white, and blue pudding in the cup.

Add whipped topping and star sprinkles!

Play Idea: Pretend it’s a “Hero Potion” from a plushie café.

🍰 4. Mini Berry Shortcakes

You’ll Need:

Mini sponge cakes or biscuits

Strawberries and blueberries

Whipped cream or yogurt

How to Make:

Place fruit on top of the sponge cake.

Add a big dollop of whipped cream or spoon of yogurt.

Sprinkle extra berries on top for cuteness!

Pretend Tip: Serve on a doily or napkin like it’s a fancy picnic party.

🍧 5. Firework Ice Cubes & Drink

You’ll Need:

Red juice (fruit punch or cranberry)

Blue juice (blueberry or sports drink)

Lemon-lime soda or sparkling water

Ice cube tray

How to Make:

Freeze red and blue juices into ice cubes.

Drop into clear soda or sparkling water.

Watch the color swirl like fireworks!

Little Tip: Give the drink a silly name like “Sparkle Sips” or “Plush Pop.”

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simmerdownmya · 1 month ago

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Self-Made Empire Legacy Challenge

Sims 4

(Still playtesting so there may be some changes)

Here's the Spicy Self-Made Empire Legacy Challenge

🎮 Required Packs for the Spicy Legacy Challenge

🛠️ Packs:

The Sims 4 Base Game

Get to Work (retail & career businesses)

City Living (food stalls, festivals)

Get Famous (celebrity & music studios)

Cottage Living (ranch, nectar making, Finchwick Fair)

Horse Ranch (horse ranch businesses & competitions)

Dream Home Decorator (art studios & galleries)

& more coming with the rest of the generations

⚙️ Optional Mods: • Basemental Drugs (illicit businesses) • Wicked Whims (romantic drama) • Life’s Drama (feuds & scandals) • Slice of Life (depth & emotional arcs)

Each generation includes: ✅ Standard Goals ✅ Optional Modded Goals ✅ Heir Goals ✅ Unique colors

🔥 Gen 1: The Ink-Stained Visionary

Color: 🧡 Burnt Sienna (#B46B3F) Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire AND Fabulously Wealthy Traits: Creative, Ambitious, Romantic Business: Painting Studio (required) + optional second business (tattoo shop recommended)

This founder sets the tone for the generations to come. They’re a bold creative carving out their own empire. With nothing but talent, drive, and romantic chaos, they start from the bottom to build a business where their art defines them. Whether it's on canvas or inked on skin, their work leaves a legacy. The founder hates cooking and baking and must avoid these skills and activities throughout Gen 1. Food and kitchen drama are left for the next generation.

🎯 Goals:

Start with §0 and only a sketchpad or easel

Dislike Cooking

Open and run a Painting-focused business using the Business & Hobbies Expansion

(Optional) Open a second business — tattoo parlor recommended

Reach Local Legend status with your painting business

Earn at least §25k from your business

Complete both aspirations: Painter Extraordinaire 🎨 and Fabulously Wealthy 💰

Max the Painting skill

Max one additional creative or relevant skill of your choice (e.g. Handiness, Photography, Wellness, etc.)

Build a creative urban lot (gallery, tattoo loft, or rooftop studio)

👶 Heir Goals:

Heir must complete at least one aspiration related to creativity or business either as a teen or child

Must cook every meal for family when old enough

🍳 Gen 2: The Food Hustler

Color: �� Spicy Red (#E74C3C) Aspiration: Master Chef / Curator Traits: Foodie, Perfectionist, Cheerful Business: Bakery (Get to Work) or Food Stall (City Living)

From stolen art to baked goods, this gen turns passion into profit by whipping up mouthwatering delights. They’re the heart and soul of the community’s favorite bakery — but with a spicy flair for drama and romance in the kitchen.

🎯 Goals:

Max Cooking 🍳 and Baking 🍰 skills

Use only homegrown or purchased ingredients

Win 3 Finchwick Fair ribbons (requires Cottage Living)

Earn at least §30k selling food

💻 Optional Mod Goals:

Sell infused or “special” edibles (Basemental)

Seduce food critics and customers (Wicked Whims)

Face sabotage from a jealous rival chef (Life’s Drama)

Suffer kitchen stress or anxiety breakdowns (Slice of Life)

👶 Heir Goals:

Have twins; heir bakes autonomously

One child must be from a secret or casual affair

Heir must master at least one cultural dish per expansion pack

🎭 Gen 3: The Fame-Hungry Twins

Color: 💜 Deep Plum (#9B59B6) Aspiration: World-Famous Celebrity / Musical Genius Traits: Self-Absorbed, Creative, Gloomy Business: Streaming Studio or Music Studio (Get Famous)

This generation’s drama is larger-than-life — two twins chasing fame in opposite ways. One becomes a glittering superstar, the other a dark, underground artist. Scandals and rivalries threaten to tear the family apart, but only one heir will carry the torch.

🎯 Goals:

Max Acting 🎬 and Media Production 🎧 skills

One twin becomes a 5-star celebrity

The other twin pursues underground or niche fame

A public scandal splits the siblings, ending the non-heir’s public presence

💻 Optional Mod Goals:

Sell secrets or influencer clout (Basemental)

Romance fans, agents, or rivals (Wicked Whims)

Engage in public feuds and media meltdowns (Life’s Drama)

Experience addiction, burnout, or mental health arcs (Slice of Life)

👶 Heir Goals:

Raise both twins with contrasting fame paths

Heir is chosen based on public reputation after scandal

Non-heir must be exiled, disowned, or go into hiding

🐴 Gen 4: The Wrangler

Color: 🐎 Earth Brown (#8E735B) Aspiration: Horse Rancher Traits: Family-Oriented, Loves Animals, Loyal Business: Horse Ranch & Wedding Venue (Horse Ranch)

From city lights to wide-open fields, this generation’s heart beats with hooves and harmony. Managing horses, training riders, and hosting barn weddings, they create a rustic empire — but hidden rivalries and forbidden romances add sparks to the stable.

🎯 Goals:

Max Riding 🐎 and Nectar Making 🍯 skills

Own and care for at least 3 horses

Host at least 1 wedding event on the ranch

Win 3 equestrian competitions

💻 Optional Mod Goals:

Sell illegal crops or substances on the side (Basemental)

Secret romance with ranch staff or rivals (Wicked Whims)

Rival ranch feud or sabotage (Life’s Drama)

Experience health issues like sunstroke or exhaustion (Slice of Life)

👶 Heir Goals:

Raise 1 biological and 1 adopted child

Heir is the child who wins the first horse event

Keep forbidden love children secret and hidden

Thanks for checking out the challenge! If you try it or have questions, feel free to message me. Reblogs are appreciated.

Part 2 (Gens 6–10) will be up soon.

-Mya

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handeaux · 2 months ago

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That Night The Cincinnati Zoo Became Venice And A Famed Artist Became A Lifeguard

It is largely forgotten now that the Cincinnati Zoo was originally organized as a for-profit enterprise. The stockholders soon realized that they needed to bring in more paying customers than exotic fauna could entice, and therefore musical concerts, summer dances, beer gardens and other non-zoological affairs soon peppered the Zoo schedule.

As the summer of 1880 wore on, Zoo visitors marveled at the construction underway around the central lagoon. Word got out that the Zoo had planned an extravaganza to exceed any of its previous entertainments and that the city’s finest artists had been recruited to bring this spectacular performance to life. Those artists were Henry Farny and Matt Morgan.

Farny, born in France, sketched for the local newspapers and executed a few theatrical posters before his excursions into the still very Wild West cemented his legacy as a premier painter of Native American life and culture.

Morgan, a Britisher, was lured to the United States by Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Weekly who needed a pen as talented and acerbic as that of Thomas Nast at the competing Harper’s Weekly. For much of the 1880s, Morgan was a leading artist at Cincinnati’s Strobridge Lithographing Company. He also staged “tableaux vivants” or “living pictures” at the Vine Street theaters, featuring nearly nude women posing in scenery reminiscent of classical paintings.

The Zoo seems to have entrusted Morgan and Farny with a substantial budget for their major production, to be titled “Visions of Venice.” The sets featured 40-foot replicas of the columns of San Marco and San Todaro, realistic façades of the Doge’s Palace, the Library of St. Mark, the Arsenal and other Venetian landmarks. The highlight of the presentation was to be a recreation of the traditional Sposalizio del Mare, the “Marriage of the Sea” ceremony, in which the Doge tosses a golden ring onto the waves to symbolize the entwined fates of the “Floating City” and the Adriatic Sea. The two artists succeeded in impressing the Cincinnati newspapers who attended the premiere. The Enquirer [24 August 1880] waxed rhapsodic:

“So much has been written in advance regarding this pageant, that but little other than the fact that the intentions of its design have been nearly realized remains to be told. The spectator is supposed to be seated on the place of St. Mark and all around him are the islands and canals of the Gem of the Adriatic. The effect is wonderfully realistic, and, to quote the words of one who lived long in the city of the Doges, ‘more beautiful by far than the original.’”

On opening night, the audience included many of Cincinnati’s leading citizens and their families. The Cincinnati Gazette [25 August 1880] identified Zoo founder Andrew Erkenbrecher, fur merchant A.E. Burkhardt, the McAlpin dry goods family, Times-Star publisher Charles Taft and others.

The evening began around 9:00 p.m. with a number of gayly decorated gondolas gliding into the Zoo’s lagoon, sporting colored lanterns at prow and stern, and carrying faux Venetians clad in elaborate Renaissance costumes. A serenade thrilled the crowd, though the Gazette confessed it was not exactly authentic in nature:

“In the middle, too, stood a minstrel, who sang to the accompaniment of a guitar. The moon was just rising over the roof of the Doge’s palace on the left and, as though apostrophizing it on the scene, he sang his song, ‘Wie Schoen Bist Du!’ – How beautiful art thou! The singer was Conrad Mueller, a German actor, and his Italian was very German; but his voice rang out high and clear and the effect was very beautiful.”

It was about this moment that the tableau was disrupted by a most amusing, if unscheduled, performance by the Venetian band. The Cincinnati Gazette recorded the ensuing debacle with undisguised relish:

“A fine orchestra had been engaged for the occasion and perched upon a platform built at the edge of the treacherous sea. While the musicians were waiting for the approach of a stately gondola the platform listed toward the water. A fat tuba player slipped over the side and fell into the Adriatic with a frightful splash. The ’cello player, who was related to him by marriage, plunged in to rescue him. This created a rush to the other side of the platform and, the whole thing giving way, the entire band was precipitated into the sea, instruments and all. The big fiddler jumped upon his fiddle and rode away to shore as majestically as though sealed in a pinnace. Not so easily did the others escape.”

The Cincinnati Commercial [24 August 1880] concurred that the impromptu orchestral bath was as entertaining as any of the intentional scenes arranged for the audience’s enjoyment:

“Fiddles and bows, horns and violincellos went flying through the air, and then gently floating on the receiving waves they danced there, but they made no music. That was furnished by the musicians sans instruments. They cried aloud and with a strong voice, ‘Save me, save me, I can not swim.’ It was Mr. Farny, who must be a most comfortable object for a drowning man to contemplate, who rescued these trusty musicians from their untimely fate.”

While Farny, the celebrated artist, was performing in his new and improvisatory role as a lifeguard, someone – this being Cincinnati, the City That Sings – managed to round up a completely new and completely dry orchestra and the ceremonial pageant resumed with only a slight delay.

The next event of the evening was billed as a jousting contest. The jousters were mounted on little platforms secured to the front of the gondolas. The young men of Cincinnati, although intimately familiar with horses, had little acquaintance with jousting outside Scott’s Waverly novels and put on a decidedly lackluster demonstration. According to the Enquirer:

“The first pair were very tame and afforded little sport. After they had ‘monkeyed’ around awhile and punched at each other much after the style of a washerwoman punching clothes in a boiler with a clothes-stick, they were allowed to retire, and a fresh pair took their places.”

Eventually, a proper joust was conducted, the Doge tossed a matrimonial ring into the Zoo lagoon, the Queen of Love and Beauty (a Main Street debutante) bestowed crowns upon a couple of ersatz knights, and the evening closed with a choral ensemble. Perhaps to encourage positive reviews, the Zoo restaurant picked up the tab for all the journalists in attendance that evening. “Visions of Venice” enjoyed a popular run over several weeks until the weather chilled.

#cincinnati zoo #visions of venice #henry farny #matt morgan

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vaya-writes · 1 year ago

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The Wyvern's Bride - Epilogue

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

2300 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider.

Masterlist - Previous

Thank you for your patience. It's only been (checks notes) almost nine months. If it's not fresh in mind, I wouldn't force yourself to reread. The style of this chapter is slightly different, doesn't require much coherency with the rest. Anyway, thank you so much for sticking with me this long, and I hope you enjoy the final installment of The Wyvern's Bride. No content warnings for this chapter. Unless PDA makes you uncomfortable xo

There are memories tucked away in each corner of The Wyvern’s Flock. The façade may have changed, but Adalyn can still see herself in the foundations of the building. She still knows the number of steps from the entrance hall to the doorways. The bakery where she’d received customers has been rearranged, a taproom in its place, but the kitchen remains, equipped with the oven her father had modified. She can see it, past the counter where Grace greets them and takes their orders.

Slate holds Adalyn’s hand when they enter what had once been her dining room. It’s still a dining room, part of her is glad to see. The fireplace still burns, and there’s a new clock over the mantle. But smaller tables and benches fill the area. Where once walls had hung bare, they’re now decorated with paintings and tapestries. Adalyn is taken aback by how much colour they bring to the establishment.

There’s a pause in conversation when they enter the room. It doesn’t quite fall silent, but people still stare as they sit by the window. Adalyn goes as far as to put her back to the room, to better blot out the distracting eyes. She’s not here to mind the gossip. Only to have lunch and spend time with her husband.

Word that a wyvern had settled in the valley had spread like wildfire, and people had come from far and wide, just for a chance to see him. It had started with the locals. People trying to sell their livestock. Craftsmen offering skills. The young and unmarried asking after serving positions.

Then word had spread further. Merchants had visited, scrabbling at the chance to trade from Slate’s hoard. Niche craftsfolk had come next. There had been sculptors (mostly turned away), glass makers (temporarily contracted), painters (generously commissioned). Then the jewel smiths, the weavers, alchemists, scribes and tinkerers, until Slate was referring them elsewhere, interested in single purchases and commissions, but not yet ready to hire every person with a trade who came to his door.

With all the skill and money coming to and from the valley, it’s no surprise when the area goes through an economic boom. The area flourishes. The trade festival becomes renowned. Northpoint and Tuscany both double in size as new folk migrate to the region.

The Wyvern’s Flock reflects this easily. The seats are full and the atmosphere is lively. Grace and Gwen have nearly finished paying off Adalyn, years ahead of schedule. As far as Adalyn is aware, the ladies have no regrets. Moving away from their families had been a boon to them both. Grace gets to run her own business, and Gwen gets to run her own kitchen. There’d been obstacles (refurnishing, family drama, local pushback), but things have settled enough that the women now run their business together without raising too many brows.

People stare at Adalyn though. Or perhaps Slate. He’s in his demi form, boldly grasping Adalyn’s hand over the table, sharpened teeth glinting as he talks. She used to shy from the attention. Feel judged by the stares; grow defensive at the scrutiny.

Adalyn squeezes his hand.

Slate pulls back to retrieve some papers from his bag. He moves his chair around the table, so they can pour over the blueprints side by side. She doesn’t flinch when his hand comes to rest on her thigh, though her cheeks do colour with blush. The gesture is under the table, hidden from public eye, and they are married. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the touch.

It still thrills her. A smile plays at her lips.

They chatter about their latest project. Adalyn’s first draft of the stable, drawn almost a year ago, had been cleaned up and heavily referenced in the newer blueprint. It always fills her with warmth, when Slate takes her ideas on board.

The project can’t be put off any longer. With the workers streaming in, they’ll need a permanent stable. A safe way to deal with the offers for work and commerce. Currently mail is left at Fleecehold for Adalyn.

The path through the Spires is steep and crumbling; twisting and incredibly narrow in places. Adalyn can’t help but admire those persistent and skilled enough to make it to the castle entrance.

Most don’t. The path is dangerous. People are attempting to navigate it with alarming regularity. It’s gotten to the point where The Wyvern’s Flock receives a stream of complaints about lost packages, twisted ankles, and near falls. She knows it’s beginning to frustrate Grace and Gwen, despite their assurances otherwise.

It only reinforces the need for a stable. One at the bottom for travellers to stow their horses and swap them out with mules. And one at the top for the animals that complete the journey. They’re considering hiring a guide too.

Because the couriers don’t stop coming. The work applications and correspondences don’t slow. Slate had built himself a castle. It needs staff to maintain it. And there is no shortage of offers.

Adalyn strokes the back of Slate’s hand with her thumb.

He squeezes her leg back, automatic, before stopping suddenly. He gives a rueful wince. “Was I getting off topic?”

She smiles. “No.”

“But I was rambling.”

Adalyn rolls her eyes. “I don’t mind. You know this.”

His cheeks tinge grey with blush, before he presses a kiss to the back of her free hand. “I’m sorry, I’ve spoken about nothing but work.”

She glances pointedly at the blueprints. “That was the plan.”

Slate shares a soft look with Adalyn, his eyes sparkling. “I love you.”

“Yes. I know.”

Slate straightens. Places his hand over his chest in mock indignance.

Adalyn relents, grinning again. “And I love you too.”

Slate puts away the blueprints. “We can revisit this again when the materials are ready. Will you tell me about your morning?”

Adalyn had worried that she’d be left with little to do when she sold her bakery. That the kitchen in the Spires would only keep her occupied for so long. That she’d finish reading Slate’s collection of books, and grow bored. She’d been wrong.

In the days passed she’s practically become Slate’s manager. And that’s just regarding how he handles construction. Half of her job is keeping Slate on task. Reminding him to finish buildings before starting new ones. Helping him prioritise. Making a hard copy of his mental to do list.

It takes patience and understanding. Slate tends to hop between projects on whim. At first she can’t fathom why he’ll be lengthening the servant’s quarters one morning, and then building a hunter’s lodge in the East Forest by the afternoon.

Sometimes he needs it. Needs that project rotation, to prevent him from falling to tedium. Other times he jumps tasks so he won’t forget his new ideas. It’s her job to learn the difference. To gently coach Slate back on track, to take note of his ideas so he can come back to them later. He seems grateful for the assistance. And she appreciates being deferred to. Doesn’t mind the extra work.

Adalyn’s tower had been left unfinished. A side project Slate returns to from time to time, in between other buildings. A servant’s wing had been higher priority. Their staff require a dormitory, a kitchen, a dining area, easy access to running water and a path to the mainway. Slate adds to the quarter every month or so, as more staff are recruited.

When she’s not helping Slate, Adalyn deals with administrative errands. Sorts the mail. Handles the budget. Manages staff. Somebody has to draft contracts and organise pay and give the hapless craftfolk wandering their halls some semblance of an orientation. Scatterbrained as he is, Slate tends to hire people first and ask questions later.

They’d first hired a goatherder, one who was willing to double as a poulterer. Adalyn didn’t want to head to Fleecehold every time she needed supplies, and having her own source of eggs, milk, and cheese (and somebody to mind the animals) is one of the first luxuries she put Slate onto.

While construction was still underway, Slate had started hiring crafters directly. Many he would source from the valley – several professionals, and the occasional apprentice. Others he sent away for. Until there’re a modest collection of people living part time in the Spires, commissioned to create and build at Slate’s whim before the next year passes. A smith busy with hinges, nails, and other iron fittings. Woodworkers and carvers to furnish the place. Niche workers from afar for the more lavish fixtures.

Then Slate hires artists.

Decorations are a must. If not for his rich tastes, then to help tell the many corridors and caverns apart. People to spin tapestries, depicting Slate’s family history. Tanners, to produce leather and fine furs from Slate’s hunting, working in tandem with an upholsterer to ensure that seats and lounges are adequately cushioned. Weavers, to create an ample source of bedding for the servant’s quarter, and spinners, to make and provide thread and yarn for aforementioned weavers and fibre artists. Until Adalyn is dizzy with the sheer number of craftsfolks wandering their halls.

Some of the art comes from further abroad. A handful of paintings and tapestries are commissioned. Slate hardly has the need for stonemasons and sculptors, but he still hires a few. He decorates the halls in limestone reliefs. The scales and wings of his family are repeated motifs. There are also hints at domesticity here and there. Designs featuring the valley; carved sheep in odd places, and crops and foods in others. Patterns peaking from a wall in the kitchen, or near the garden doors.

Mostly they’d hired serving staff. As Slate’s castle grows, so does the housework. There is too much floor space, too many oil lamps and braziers that require maintenance. Adalyn has enough on her plate without handling the laundry or the sweeping and polishing.

She’s still the only person allowed to wander the Tower. Slate had deemed his horde too valuable; hadn’t wanted anyone else handling their possessions. Adalyn figures he just doesn't want anyone fussing.

Next they’ll have to hire a stable hand. And look for a guide, to take people up and down the Spires. But those tasks can wait.

Grace arrives with their food. Cheese toast sprinkled with salt and rosemary for Adalyn – who makes a note to try cooking it at home. And a haunch of meat, dripping and rare, just the way Slate likes it. There’s wine too; the ladies had a trade deal with Ivar’s brewery, and Adalyn’s visits to The Wyvern’s Flock are a rare chance for her to indulge in his reputed winterberry wine.

Adalyn digs into her meal while her friend lingers, catching her up on the latest happenings. Adalyn doesn’t get to be social very often, and she’s grown to appreciate the comradery and tentative friendship that the Grace and Gwen have offered her.

They chat about Lindel. The woman had kept in touch with Adalyn, writing regularly. She still lives with her family, farming and spinning with the rest of the women in her village. Her life hadn’t changed much in the last year, but being the semi-final contender to marry Slate had bought her some respect amongst the others in her village. Even if she keeps the details of the trials to herself.

Errah comes up too. She’s still a bit of a recluse, shepherding in one of the smaller settlements. Neither does she write, though Adalyn suspects that has more to do with her ability, rather than her desire.

One of Slate’s cousins had been checking in on her, and the occasional sight of the silvery wyvern has been a fierce topic of gossip. Adalyn listens avidly. Lune hadn’t bothered visiting the Spires. It’s apparently poor etiquette for one wyvern to visit another’s territory and not declare themselves, but Slate doesn’t mind.

Adalyn decides to visit Errah. If Lune is attempting to court her, then she’d probably appreciate the hard earned information Adalyn could share about that particular experience.

Gwen wanders over, and conversation turns towards business. Repayments on the building. Mail collection. Food orders.

The sun sets and the stars wheel gently overhead by the time Slate and Adalyn leave. They walk the settlement for a while, and Adalyn is struck with the fond memory of when she’d given Slate his first tour of the area.

The night grows cold and Adalyn shivers.

Slate wraps his arm around her shoulders and steers her towards the courtyard. He transforms, without a care for who sees him. Adalyn can’t help but smile again, reminded vividly of the first time Slate had landed here in this form. The power he’d given her at his entrance.

What’s with that look?

Adalyn shakes her head. “I’m just feeling nostalgic.”

She brushes her fingers against his scaled snout. Smiles up at him, before leaning in and kissing him on the cheek.

He rumbles; a sound of contentment.

“I had a nice time tonight. Thank you.”

He doesn’t reply, nuzzling his face against her shoulder instead. His tongue flicks out across her neck, playful and affectionate. Adalyn yelps, before dissolving into laughter at the ticklish sensation.

Slate lowers his head further. Nudges her side, more forcefully.

Climb on already. I want to take you home.

She nearly flushes at his directness. Feigns shock with a hand over her mouth. “So forward, Slate?”

His huff sends a breath of hot air at her face, but he doesn’t otherwise reply. He’s familiar with the joke. It’s not the first time she’s made it.

Adalyn kisses him again before climbing up. Jests aside, she looks forward to getting back to the Tower. To whatever Slate might have in mind for the evening.

Once more, the shadow of a wyvern passes over Clearwater Valley.

#holy shit #im actually kind of emotional posting this #its finally done #woah #anyway #vaya writes #wyverns #dragons #monster romance #also i got so sick of the word smile while editing this

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