#The Elephant and The Teapot are Friends

[carolynsart]

Creating the art for The Elephant and the Teapot are Friends! Mike Dubisch drawing the art for our new book! Check out the book here.

[moonstruckme]

mae, congratulations on 8k and happy holidays ahhh!!! if you have the time, i could totally see something fun with tasm! peter and the prompt office christmas party. like coworkers to friends to pining and confessions? basically it’s giving jim and pam teapot, BUT i would love to see where your brain takes it

Thank you for requesting! Happy holidays :)

cw: jokes are made about Peter's appearance, but they're very, very sarcastic

coworker!(tasm)Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 639 words

You never usually wear red. It’s not like it’s one of Peter’s favorite colors anyway—he only really wears it for one thing, even if that’s pretty much every day—but he feels suddenly robbed having never seen it on you before. As if you’re not eye-catching enough already, your holiday sweater makes you the brightest thing in the room. 

Peter goes to it like a moth to a flame. Though, in fairness, that’s your usual effect on him, sweater or no. 

“Oh, wow, you lucked out,” he says, raising his eyebrows at your white elephant gift. 

You look up from your desk, grinning when you see Peter. “I know, right?” You hold your prize up enthusiastically, like they’re the keys to your new car and not slippers designed to look like giant man feet with a bow slapped on top of them. “Can you believe I started with a bluetooth shower speaker and worked my way up to these? I mean, Christmas is over at this point. Everyone else can go home.” 

“Those will probably be the best give you’ll ever get,” Peter agrees. He leans against your desk, careful not to disturb the pens lined up neatly by your laptop. “You really managed to land on a personalized one, too. Did you already know they made slippers that match your feet, or did you just find out today?” 

Your shoulders hitch with a laugh, pretty eyes sparkling. Peter feels a warm tug in his gut. Any day he can make you smile is a good one. 

“What did you get?” you ask him. 

“Oh, mine came from the boss man himself.” Peter reaches into his small gift bag, pulling out his prize. “Check this baby out.” 

Your smile stays in place, but you look genuinely perplexed. “A toothbrush?” 

“Not just any toothbrush.” He presses a button on the side, watching your face as a song begins to play from a small speaker. Baby, baby, baby, ohhhh…

Your mouth actually drops open before you cover it with a hand, giggles muffled into your palm. “Okay, wait, wait. I actually want that one now.” 

Peter hisses through his teeth, shrugging remorsefully. “Sorry, but I don’t think I can part with it. It’s too important to me. Anyway, you’ve got your slippers, and they suit you so well…” 

“Right, but” —You school your expression into solemnity. Peter has to work hard to suppress his own grin, thinking to himself that you look like a contestant on that Shark Tank show— “have you considered the potential of these slippers in your love life? I mean, I’ve already basically got it covered with my feet, but Peter…” You hold the slippers up, letting them dangle from a single finger. “These could be a real babe magnet.” 

Peter lets out a long exhale, pretending to consider it. “That’s true. I could use a little help on the dating front…” 

“You could,” you say sympathetically. 

“I mean, my looks on their own are hardly doing the job.” 

“It’s not your fault we weren’t all born naturally attractive.” 

“I am pretty plain…” 

“Homely, even. But that’s alright.” You hold the slippers out again. “That’s where these come in.” 

“Okay.” Peter feigns reluctance, handing over the toothbrush. “You’ve got a deal.” 

“Yes!” Every hair on his leg stands at attention when you put your hand on his knee, squeezing. You’re smiling beatifically. “Thank you, Peter. This means the world.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re doing me a favor too.” He sets his hand on top of yours, squeezing also. “Pleasure doing business with you.” 

Your eyes drop to your hand as if realizing where it is for the first time, and Peter pretends not to notice when your eyes flicker up to his, the teasing in them giving way momentarily to bashfulness. He got the best gift today, for sure. 

[romanaisalive]

Crochet 2024 - Feb-July projects, a non-exhaustive list

Figured I never shared these here, so here goes. :) Also, I'm almost done with a lace shawl and that deserves its own post.

First up: containers!

From left to right: yarn scrap holder and travel crochet bag lemons, strawberry bag (currently used for dog walking), mobile case (gift to my mother), dice bag (gift to a friend)

Coasters / pot holders

Left to right: the sunflower set (gift to my sister which includes six cup coasters, a bigger one for teapots and a big pot holder), loosely sunflower/sun-themed pot holder set (for our own kitchen)

Plushies

Left to right: seal (for fun), rat with hook case, elephant, octopus (all three birthday gifts to friends)

Charms

Left to right: strawberry bag charm (since then got bored of it and swapped for a purple set of leaves), dolphin (made three of them, good luck gift for our cross-lake 5,2 km swim)

Gloves (made for our Curse of Strahd campaign finale weekend)

And shawls!

Left to right: my mother's birthday gift (chainy cotton, quite heavy), gift to a friend (summery, decorative)

[pythianoracle]

PSA About Some Shady Shit on Tumblr

This post is to bring light to some shady marketing on tumblr. This is not about an individual, but rather as a company posing as an aesthetic/meme account in order to get people to buy from their shitty drop shipping company.

I am making this post because I am sick of covert marketing and drop shippers over charging for the same stuff that can be found for cheaper and by the actual company. I am also concerned for the possible hazard of drop shipped items that need to be food safe in order to use.

Tumblr user @/my-kawaii—world is a drop shipping company pretending to be an aesthetic blogger who happens to “find” links to all the products in posts. All these links lead to the same drop shipping company website: Lavender Constellation. Under the cut is evidence to support my claim.

Alt text has been added for accessibility.

Hey, so I’m really not one to make posts like this, but I saw something that rlly sketched me out that some people may want to be aware of.

So, someone I follow reblogged this really cute teapot that my-kawaii—world posted!

[ID: a screenshot of a tweet reposted by user my-kawaii—world on tumblr. The post reads “losing my mind over this frog teapot my best friend gave me”. Attached to the tweet are two images showing a green frog teapot with two black tadpole cups. ID END]

Seems innocent enough, right? But then you scroll to the end of the post.

[ID: A screenshot of the bottom of the previous post by my-kawaii—world. Attached is a link to a storefront in green and pink text that reads “**Update For the people asking I asked her and she bought the frog tea set HERE🐸. ID END]

I thought “dang, a ton of people must have been asking them if they went to all that extra effort”, so I decided to check the tags.

[ID: A screenshot of the post reblogs with the user names blocked out in red to respect privacy. From top to bottom, the tags read: #cat #basically #cats and #haha. ID END]

Why would people be tagging this with cats if it has nothing to do with cats? Looking further, if you open up a reblog, you see this.

[ID: A screenshot a reblog that shows a different tweet. Punctuation has been added to alt text for readability. The tweet reads as follows: “Me: Invents a device to talk to cats. Cat: Oh god, finally you understand me. When ever I meow for hours it’s because I want wet food. I know this was so opaque for you. Me: No no, I knew you want wet food the whole time, but you can’t have it whenever you want. Cat: (blank space) Me: (blank space) Cat: first of all, fuck you,”. ID END]

They’re retroactively editing their high note posts to give more credibility to the shit they’re selling. Here is the listing on the linked website

[ID: a screenshot of a website called “Lavender Constellation”. The website has a light purple background with darker purple text. The listing image is of a green frog teapot with two black tadpole cups on a pink background and labeled “TEA SET FROG & TADPOLE”. The item’s original price is listed as $149.95 USD and is listed as on sale for $79.99 USD. ID END]

Wow isn’t it so cool that it’s on sale right now? Save over $60 USD? What a steal! They also offer free world-wide shipping and have a coupon code you can use. Crazy.

Upon further digging, the real teapot is the frog from the サンアート aka sunart brand, specifically from their parent and child collection. And guess what? You can get it on Amazon for less than half the price, even after the “sale”.

[ID: a screenshot of the same green frog teapot and black tadpole cups listen on Amazon. At the bottom are options to select, including Frog Parent, Elephant Parent, and an additional one that is cut off. The frog parent is $32.96 USD and the elephant parent is $26.22 USD. ID END]

I looked into the brand and they seem to specifically make ceramics additionally, the options to pick less popular options that I don’t see nearly as many bootlegs of make me pretty confident this is the actual product.

This is far from the only post they’ve done this with. Looking at their blog, you’ll see a sea of ads for their original posts, all linking to the same store:

[ID: A screenshot of a post by my-kawaii—world. The post is cut off due to the size of the device it was taken on. In the screenshot, there is an image of a silver sword ring with a skull on the pommel and a chain connecting the pommel to the cross-guard. Below the image is a link that red, bolded, and underlined text that reads: “OMG, I FINALLY FOUND THE RIGHT WITH FREE SHIPPING!!!!”. ID END]

And then following the link, we get taken right back to the Lavender Constellation website:

[ID: A screenshot of the same Lavender Collection Website from before with a pale purple background and darker purple text. The listing photo is of a person’s hand with a silver ring in the shape of a sword. It has a skull on the pommel and a chain connecting the pommel to the cross-guard. The listing is labeled “STAINLESS STEEL GOTH SWORD RING” in purple text. ID END]

If you go to their page, you will see a ton of other examples of this. Hell, I have even more examples, but I feel this post is long enough as is. I’m frankly fed up with people doing this shit, especially charging over double the price of an original product for a shitty knock off.

I’m not going to comment of the safety of these products (i.e., if the knock off teapot is food safe or not) because I don’t plan on buying one to test for lead, but that is a genuine risk you have when buying drop shipped products. For example, counterfeit makeup is well known for containing chemicals that can be harmful to the skin due because they’re much cheaper than the skin safe stuff. Here is a research article that discusses some of the harmful effects that unregulated, counterfeit makeup can have on your skin. The article is open access, so don’t worry about being blocked by a paywall.

Again, I don’t know if the counterfeit teapot is food safe or not, I haven’t been able to find any posts discussing the bootleg, or even Lavendar Constellation as a whole, but with stuff like this, it’s much better to be safe than sorry.

I am positive my-kawaii—world and Lavender Constellation are not the only people running operations like this on tumblr, I’m sure there are a shit ton more. Most will probably run the same way as my-kawaii—world. Essentially if you go to a page that posts a ton of cute, aesthetic products and they link to the same website for every single thing, it’s probably a drop shipping scam.

I’m not someone who thinks I’m “morally superior” for buying only name brand stuff, hell I own a few bootleg plushies, but items that need to food safe are not something I personally would fuck around with. And even if these bootlegs are food safe, the fact that they are charging over double the price of the original is so ludicrous and inexcusable.

Personally, I recommend blocking the @/my-kawaii—world account. Don’t micromanage people who have already reblogged from them unless they’re a friend, mutual, etc. Basically, don’t harass strangers who happened to reblog the original post or the edited post. Just get the word out there about this account.

Do I think my post will shut down their site and drive them off Tumblr? Probably not. But the more people that know about this specific scam and scams like it, the better.

[mahvaladara]

OC Deep Dive

I was tagged by @dandylion240 twice so I guess this warrants to deep Dives. Deep dive one shall be with Khal.

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

Khal is claustrophobic, which is pretty common. He was buried alive for a couple decades/centuries, so he doesn't do tight spaces well and would rather stay out in the open. Curiously he likes small homes.

An uncommon fear he has is of flies. He hates flies. If it so much lands on him he will freak out.

Do they have any pet peeves?

"You're a one-man-army, so you're the perfect person to deal with this". He may be sturdy, powerful, and capable, but he still feels pain, so he hates when people look at him for his 'use'.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

A journal, a teapot and a bowl of fruit.

What do they notice first in a person?

Their voice and their eyes. Their expression especially. Khal is very careful with reading microexpression and often distrusts people at first sight. However, due to his nature to aid and guide those in need, he will often help even those he distrusts, if nothing else in the personal need to either be proved right or wrong on his assumption.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Not going to quantify it because it's not that he has a high pain tolerance but that he will power through the pain. Khal actually has an avarage pain tolerance.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Fight mode. He will put up a fight.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Khal comes from a 'big family', his entire clan were considered siblings and the whole community had the duty to raise the younglings. He is a family man though and Khal would adopt any stray and any orphan he believed needed his help.

What animal represents them best?

There's three animals I believe would describe him best. The independence and curiosity of a cat, the inteligence and sapience of an owl, with the compassion of an elephant.

What is a smell that they dislike?

Citrines. He actually dislikes the scent of citrines.

Have they broken any bones?

Hahahahah. Yes.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

He's a bit intimidating at first sight. He is tall when compared to humans, though short when compared to Drahnvary. He's around the height of the Fae. But he still has that intimidating scary look only the Drahn can give.

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

Night owl. He enjoys the night.

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

Kinda hard, he's not picky. He is not a fan of kiwis or papayas. Adores chocolate.

Do they have any hobbies?

Journaling, exploration and history, and he enjoys seamstry.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

He doesn't remember his naming day so he'd be a little emotional that his friends decided to make him a naming day party.

Do they like to wear jewelry?

Yes. He wears circles, rings, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, jewelry on his hair and his horns. Little shiny trinkets in his clothes and gear. He's very much a magpie. He likes it shiny and flowy.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Actually very neat, very flowery. He is used to writting with a quill or feather and does not like 'pens' and new writting devices. Loves the writting machine though.

What are two emotions they feel the most?

Curious and confident.

Do they have a favorite fabric?

Cotton, velveteen and leather.

What kind of accent do they have?

He has an odd accent. Not from the south. Seems like a mixture between northerner and islander. He doesn't have the same accent has the Drahn have, so he either picked his accent somewhere else or he is much older than originally believed.

I tag @izayoiri, @dandylion240

[thenightlymirror]

Rhubarb

We used a 500w light

The kind you buy from Home Depot

And hid it above the bathroom mirror

The light that came down from the ceiling

Painted everything in a warm shimmer

The actor that played you in this film

Was not the one I would have chosen

He had a habit of smiling when he had nothing better to do

Which made the suicide attempt at the end of the film

Seem to come out of nowhere

Your professor friend told you to take the scene out

But I was adamant that the scene stay in

It’s the only shot I like

If you really want to make everything cohere

Just get rid of the rest of the film where he’s smiling for no reason

You could have said something

That’s what directing is.

Balibar

I misread something once and assumed for many years that Etienne Balibar was Althusser’s wife

He looks like he gives really good hugs

Rhubarb #2

See, knocking toward recorded states

Knowing most days ever deduced you

No season forwarding miles

She, wraith-like, lifts the sitter through the ether

Up through dirt and regret

Her spirit-name lapping over stones on the river

The white sheet, wet, tracing time in wooden faces

In Illyrium, mine forever

Out of nickel slugs, the lie and splinter gang

Stay with me stage-left in the hallway of your laundry room

The shadow of your wrist

The black summer outside in cicada hum

The stage painted black

Yellow dressing room lights dimly during the day

While classes went on and we slept in sawdust

The sawdust, the centipede

The tile floor of your bathroom under the risers

Bleecher marks on your skin

Thoth hidden in the bathtub Armada among artifacts like the cold faucet

You, Anise, in cattails

Stepping on boards across marshes

You, sweet friend, red seraphim, yours alone

Ewe’s horn and fool, come and find me

Malefic foe of D’ne, attacking the temple headfirst

Shallow gold passage of oil that flows over her feet

The lady machine bewitched

The Dodo’s song on the back of a washboard

Along Katib’s reed and whistle

Elephants sigh in empathy with the ghost

He knows

When the smiling snake of Tabitha and Abbadon

The red scalloped rib of the cinema curtain

The rabbit’s pink nose on heaven’s cloud

Air graveyard pipes

And violin bow the singing saw

Evil eye on sister Venus climbing the miller’s wheel

Speaking her angel’s papyrus with disappearing ink

Remember me before we knew warm river shores

Long fingers in sand

The soil that hangs on branches standing upright on its banks

Pulling the threads of it dark brown roots

Tangled in telephone wires red and blue

The beige receiver unscrewed

The voice in carbon cupped in your hand

Yellow vinyl, bareback, cigarette smoke hovering into the austere void above

Soft plastic tissue released from engines in the blue sky

The deep end of the living room

Suspension of the lithe body

The proximity and weight

Roaring lion’s voice and the beasts it kills like an open door

Tawny and overgrown rusted junkyard

Heat and sweat on your cool face underneath

The tattered orange towel that covers the window

The tortoise shell

Love or the dark cabinet

I waited hidden for hours crying alternately sniggering through the peep hole

As the party continued

As breath quickened and stopped

Teapot Dome changes a gourd half carved out an intricate path

Stiff paper walls

Labyrinthine circuit, unseen, unknown

To that breathing thing, unfolding inside itself in cellulose

Bark-like, dry, a wonder

Tightly winding the mouse a sewing needle

[sunlitmcgee]

i love tia the teapot elephant my friend forever

[bananna-threads]

When I was younger, I used to make a lot of t-shirts, bags, hats, etc. as gifts for my friends.

They would always feature a character from a show or movie that they liked (admittedly, it also had to be something I liked, or else I would have no interest in making it haha). I wish I had photos of some of my old projects, but I was always bad about remembering to take them before they were given away, and never seen again :P

I really appreciate those of my friends who made the effort to use/wear the things I made for them, because I realize now how embarrassing that might have been given the...childish amateurish look they often had.

But because they always seemed happy with my presents, I continued to create and improve! And now, you can see the result of all my trials and errors.

These characters are mostly made from felt/fleece (I had to learn through the aforementioned trials and errors that it is much better to use fabric that doesn't fray for things like this). Little buttons were also sewn onto Wirt and Greg's clothes, a scrap of pleather for Greg's little bag, and two scraps of silver satin were sewn together into the shape of a little teapot and turned right-side out for his "elephant trunk."

I start by choosing an image that is easily translated to simple color blocks, which usually means a cartoon character. I then decide which parts of the image will be its own "layer", or fabric piece. For example, Jason Funderburger (frog), is made up of a main body, a left and right leg, two arms, lips, two eyes, two pupils, and dark coloring on both the left and right sides. I take the original reference image and then crop around each of these elements. It ends up looking like a collage of body parts and shapes in a word doc. I can then print it and cut out a dedicated "pattern piece" for each element. I trace around these paper pieces onto their corresponding fabrics and cut them out. These are then layered and hand stitched to one another where they overlap.

It took me awhile to decide what I wanted these to be sewn onto, but ultimately went with little linen pillows. The borders are embroidered in fall colors--small stalks of wheat, french knot winter berries, fallen leaves blowing in the wind, and fern-like branches frame each brother.

I had a lot of fun making these, and they always keep me company during my obligatory otgw re-watch every fall!

Decorative Over the Garden Wall pillows!

[carolynsart]

The Elephant and the Teapot are Friends | Read Aloud by Reading Pioneers... A incredible reading of my new book! “Poor Little Teapot was swept from his home by a gust of wind. When he befriends a baby elephant at the watering hole, he discovers more about the world and the beauty of friendship. Set in Eastern India where elephants roam, children will learn about a culture and a land outside of their own. To support Carolyn and Mike, click here: https://amzn.to/40yOSQP To see all of Carolyn's books on Amazon: https://amzn.to/3A9aet3 Playlist of Carolyn's books on Reading Pioneers:   • Books by Carolyn Watson-Dubisch   If you are interested in getting your book read, send an email: contact@readingpioneers.com Follow us:  / reading_pioneers    / readingpioneers  “

[peachcott]

its my birthday :]

[seveneyesoup]

playing animals crossing and i see why y’all were into this lol

[allhopeislost]

This is what i mean too, when i say i sense the vibes of late years Sherlock BBC fandom!! please don't do TDMC (2: Electric Boogaloo) !!! 😭 WE KNOW HOW THAT ENDED!

No, production is not your friend. They might be talented and wondeful or misguided and suck (whatever you feel like), but most importantly they have their own vision and agenda, and they are not playing coy about it. There is NO SECRET PLAN that is held back to 🎉surprise🎉 fans. If there is enough exitement over a thing - it might get slightly more runtime and fanservice, thats it.

But what i find the worst about deluding yourself that there is secretly a different plan to one made public - if creator crew has a clear vision, caving to fandom has 99% chance of making show worse! Because there would be no one passionate enough behind it.

They are also have to play along or keep neutral in marketing to not loose you all! It's a relatively small production! Money people would be unhappy otherwise 💀

Let it go! Its fun to play with "what ifs" and theorize, but if you have to jump through hoops to confirm your ideas and discard public statements or iffy "canon" on it - its probably delusions.

Let go of expectations! create more theories, generate ideas! BUT DO NOT LET IT BECOME YOUR ONLY VIEW ON REALITY. write the damn fic, where it happens how u want it! And if one day, the 1% pays of and it somehow becomes canon - youll be happy! Set yourself up to success!

Leave teapots and elephants to rest in peace 🫡

also more like planting this flag here so I can reblog it in a couple years: rolin doesn't care about devil's minion. he doesn't like it. he's not being silly when he's visibly annoyed when people ask about it. he might get pressured into including some or more of it based on fan response or amc or whatever. but rolin. does not. care. for. it. he does not want to give you the thing you seem to expect he's only pretending he doesn't want to give you. he also could have given you some of the things you wanted this season and instead he unnecessarily closed the door on a lot of it in what was the most spiteful way possible. you are getting stephen moffat'd. listen to people when they say they don't want to give you what you want. they are rarely lying about it.

[theflyingkipper]

I really liked your first foray into fic! As someone who finds it hard to Vibe with Henry, you do a good job making Human!him understandable and relatable, as well as installing real fear into that end bit because of this. Also loved the OC Fireman, I often find it's best when the crew bounce off each other in a contrasting way and he felt like a real person with a long implied backstory of his own~

My only Critique aspect is that the phrase "The Green Elephant" started coming up a lot, which is a minor nitpick, just something that stuck out. I'd alternate with other terms myself, something like "The Problem Engine", "The Green Teapot", "Number Three" or whatever floats your boat. 'w'

THANK YOU SO MUCH AUAGH 😭😭😭 this is very much appreciated and I'll keep the second piece of feedback in mind !

Also I find it funny that people like Leopold, hes only existed for a day and apparently ive nailed down his character

on the note of human!Henry im also glad you enjoyed him :) I tried to tow the line between him being enthusiastic while also being easily irritated. I'd like to think he and Leopold have been friends as long as they've worked on the NWR together and I want to hopefully make that clearer

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Painted Windows 13

Warnings: dubcon/noncon sexual acts, violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, (handjob, masturbation)

This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Bucky surprises you. Then you surprise yourself.

Note: Thanks to everyone who has hung in there. I managed to finish this chapter and figured I’d share it with you all after you waited so long. Again, I’m sorry about being all over the place. Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Masterlist

You woke to a tickle along your spine. You shivered and opened your eyes. Bucky’s arm snaked around you and he drew himself against you as he had the night before. He was hard again. He let out a gasp as his erection rubbed against your ass. He wiggled just a little and groaned. You tensed and grabbed his wrist.

“Let me up,” You said quietly.

“Sugar,” He breathed and rubbed your stomach. “How did you sleep?”

“F-fine,” You pulled at him arm but he didn’t seem to notice. “Please, Bucky…”

“Stay,” He purred against your ear as he lifted his head. He kissed your cheek. “It’s okay, sugar.”

You gripped his wrist and he twisted his hand suddenly. His metal fingers grasped your hand as he pushed his arousal against your ass. He sighed at the feeling of your body and guided you onto your back. You looked over at him, your nerves jittering beneath your skin. 

He guided your hand across your stomach and to his. You touched the firm muscle and trembled. He slid your hand down and closed it around his cock. You tried to pull away but he was too strong. He began to move your hand along his length. He leaned on his other elbow as he hovered over you. 

His lips were just above yours as he whispered. “Don’t stop.”

He squeezed your hand and slowly drew his away. He caressed your hip as he rocked against you. He kissed you suddenly, hungrily, all the while your hand kept going; almost with thought. Was this the soldier? 

You turned your head and gulped. “B-Bucky?”

“Mmm,” He nuzzled your cheek.

“Is it you?” You asked as he moaned. “Not…”

He reached down and stopped your hand. “Look at me.”

You turned your head slowly to meet his gaze. His blue eyes clung to yours and the lines around them deepened.

“It’s me…” He hissed. “I am not the soldier.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t…”

He moved your hand again, this time faster.

“I am not the soldier,” He repeated as he led your strokes. “I am not…”

His hand left yours again and he grabbed your chin. He kissed you roughly and forced his tongue past your lips. He growled as he tried to devour you. He parted and rubbed his nose against yours as his finger settled over your throat.

“More,” He demanded. “More.”

You moved your hand faster and whimpered. There was that darkness in his eyes again. You closed yours and he crashed his lips down again. You just wanted it to be over.

He squeezed your throat and pulled back. He pressed his forehead to your temple and his hot breath seared your cheek. His body stiffened and began to shake as his hips spasmed. He let out a snarl as you felt the warmth explode across your thigh and down your hand. You slowed and he twitched wildly in your grasp.

His fingers loosened and you let go of him in shock. He fell onto his back with a sigh. You peeked down at his cum smeared across your palm and thigh. You were sickened as it cooled on your skin. You sat up and he caught your arm.

“I gotta… get cleaned up,” You said.

He looked you over and a smirk threatened to curve his lips. He released you and dragged his fingers over his stomach and shivered. You turned your legs over the edge of the bed and stood. You walked slowly around the bed.

“You will know the soldier when he comes.” Bucky warned.

You stumbled slightly at his tone but didn’t dare to look back. You scurried into the bathroom and closed the door. Your hand shook as you twisted the faucet and began to wash away the mess. You stared at yourself in the mirror as you wiped clean your thigh and tossed the tissue in the toilet bowl.

Your fingers returned to your thigh and crawled lower… curiously. You dipped between your legs and felt the wetness that had gathered there. That was you, not him. You winced as you tickled your clit and a thrill rolled up your back. You repeated the motion and it happened again.

You glanced at the door and listened. You heard no movement on the other side. You gripped the edge of the sink and spread your legs wider. You pushed your fingers between your folds as you explored your cunt. You swirled around the slickness around your clit and circled your fingertips. You flicked faster and faster as the sensation spread to your thighs and hips. More intense with each touch.

You held your breath as you closed your eyes. You were back on the forest floor, a heavy weight over you. Steve had you pinned as his blue eyes peered into yours. In your head, it was his hand between your legs. His heavy breaths that bounced around you. It was him. You could smell him, feel him.

Your eyes shot open as you came. You watched yourself in the mirror, appalled and shocked. You quivered and pulled your hand from between your legs. You shut the faucet off as you tried to catch your breath. That was wrong. Steve was a friend, he wasn’t that. But you had kissed him and he hadn’t resisted.

But he also hadn’t kissed you back.

You sniffed and gripped your head. The door opened and surprised you. You dropped your hands and turned to Bucky as he peeked in at you.

“Hey,” You squeaked. “I was… gonna take a shower.”

“Sure, sure,” He smiled as he made no move to enter. “It might be a good idea. We have a visitor on his way.”

Your eyes rounded and you blinked. He chuckled.

“Just Steve,” He said. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Uh, well, I guess,” You replied. 

“Good,” He said. “I just gotta go do a few things before he gets here. Okay?”

“Okay,” You breathed.

“I’ll be back soon,” He promised and backed out of the bathroom.

You stared at the door as he pulled it shut. Would Steve tell him about the forest? He said he wouldn’t but his loyalty might not be so strong to some girl he barely knew. A girl who didn’t know herself. But he was good. You knew he was. You could see it in him. He must be good because he was your only hope.

You scrubbed yourself frantically. Scratched away the filth of your guilt as the hot water scourged your skin. You didn’t know what was worse; his touch or your own. Or even your fleeting thoughts; your lurid fantasy of a man you barely knew. 

When you emerged from the steamy bathroom, Bucky was gone. You were relieved by his absence. That feeling was odd. You glanced around and walked the perimeter of the room, your towel knotted above your chest. You peered out the window and turned back to the messy bed. You tidied it and rounded to the other side.

You bent to the bottom shelf of the bookshelf and slipped out the square box. You slid the lid off carefully and pulled out a square of red paper with white stars speckled across it. You returned the box to its place and grabbed the pen from your notebook. Your nerves were wild as you placed the sheet on the night table and bent over it, your back to the door.

‘Steve. I’m afraid. Please take me away from here before he can hurt me. Dora.’ You drew a little heart and placed the pen down.

You couldn’t think of what else to say. There was too much you could say. Too much to explain on the square of paper. It would have to do until you had a chance to tell him more. If you had the chance. If he didn’t reveal your little sojourn to Bucky or you attempted, if pathetic, flight.

You folded the paper with trembling fingers. You sharpened each bend with your fingernail and turned and flipped the page until it was a springy little front. You pressed down on its reat and it did a little hope. You examined it, assured that your messy scrawl did not show, and placed it with your line of animals along the shelf.

You dressed carefully. You chose a blue dress that went to your knees, the pleated skirt cinched at your waist, and the cap sleeves puffed above your shoulders. You pulled on a pair of frilly white socks and for a moment, you felt absurd. Almost like a living doll. You neatened your hair in the mirror and tried to smile at yourself. At Dora.

You returned to the room and heated a bowl of water until it was boiling in the microwave. You still lacked a proper stove. You filled the teapot and added several bags of breakfast tea. You distracted yourself by setting the table with three cups. A little tea party.

You were dazed as you looked down at the spread. You weren’t in that room anymore, but another one. Brighter, with yellow walls and pink cushions set around a plastic table. A stuffed elephant to your left and raggedy ann to your right. The cups were empty and painted with flowers.

You snapped back as the lock on the door clicked and you looked up as Bucky entered. His dark hair was pulled back in a bun and his beard was freshly trimmed and combed. He was followed by another. You held back a smile as Steve’s golden locks peeked over the darker head.

“I made tea,” You announced proudly.

“Very good, sugar,” Bucky said as he looked around.

“Hi, Steve,” You felt your cheeks warm as he smiled at you.

“Hey, Dora,” He neared the table and touched the rim of one of the cups. “What kind of tea?”

“Green,” You answered. “I didn’t have any black left.”

“I’ve never had green tea,” He pulled out a chair and sat. Bucky continued to walk around the room. “But I’d love to try it.”

You poured a cup for him and he drew it close. He inhaled the gentle scent and watched the steam rise.

“Steve said you behaved when I was gone,” Bucky stood at the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “You understand that you have to listen to him as much as you listen to me.”

“Of course,” You filled a cup for yourself. “Do you want any tea, Bucky?”

“No,” He said as he kept staring into the yard. 

“You…” You hovered around the table as you set the pot down. “You didn’t even notice what we made.”

“Hmm?” Bucky looked over his shoulder with a slanted brow.

“I made you a wolf,” You took the grey paper from the row. 

He turned entirely and stared as you held up the animal. He squinted.

“Steve brought me some nice paper,” You explained. “So we made these.”

“Oh,” He nodded and spun back to the window.

“Oh, Steve,” You put the wolf back and took the freshly folded frog. “You forgot yours.”

You set it beside his cup as he pressed his fingertips to the warm porcelain. His brows lowered as he considered the frog but he took it nonetheless. He made it hop a few times. 

“I did forget,” He said. “Thank you.”

“I like to practice,” You sat. “If you unfold it and refold it, it’s easier to remember.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve took the frog and smiled again. He tucked it carefully in his front pocket just below his jacket. The brown leather was aged and cracked around the seams.

“Well, aren’t you staying?” You wondered as you gestured to his coat.

“It’s sunny out,” Bucky said sharply as he turned and marched across the room. “We thought it would be a good day for a walk.”

“A walk?” You blinked dumbly as you looked between them. “I don’t--”

“Steve is right. You need sunlight. It’s not fair to keep you pent up all the time. Not like this.” He sighed as he leaned on the chair. “But you have to be good, you understand?”

“Good?” You echoed. “I am… good.”

“You are, sugar,” He assured you. “But it can be overwhelming. Going out after so long.”

You nodded and thought as you leaned your chin in your hand. You glanced at Steve and he sipped from his cup. He hadn’t told Bucky what you did. He really was your friend.

“Can we have a picnic?” You asked. “I can make some sandwiches.”

Bucky took a breath and tapped his toe.

“It’s still cold out,” He warned. 

“I’ll wear a sweater.” You said. “Please. I… want to watch the birds. I want to smell the air and see the sunlight. Please, Bucky.”

“I think a picnic sounds fun,” Steve intoned. “I remember we had one back in France. Right before this big mission. We could hear artillery as we sliced the cheese…”

“Fine,” Bucky shrugged. “But you remember to listen.”

“I will,” You folded your hands together. “I promise.”

[morwenna-crows]

Apocalypse Kings - Two Preview Chapters

HarperCollins just released a new preview for Apocalypse Kings. It’s slightly longer than the earlier preview released by World Book Day, and elaborates on what the ‘three ancient gods’ mentioned in the summary are. Also, a chapter count for the whole book. Under the cut.

1.

Adedayo was fourteen when he discovered that he was magic.

Up until then, he’d lived what he reckoned to be a normal life. He was on the school football team, which he enjoyed. He was on the school debating team, which he didn’t. He had his family, he had his friends, he liked dogs but was wary of cats, he didn’t like spiders, he hated rats and he ran away from wasps. All pretty normal. All pretty standard.

The magic thing happened over the course of a few weeks, when things started to come to him. Not answers, or knowledge, or insight, or anything like that – but actual things. Lamps, and bottles of water and big, heavy books. They’d fly at him as soon as he looked at them and he’d have to duck or jump back or run screaming from the room.

At first, Adedayo thought he was being haunted. Then he thought that he must have annoyed an invisible man at some point. One afternoon, after a teapot had collided with his face, he covered the kitchen floor in flour and waited for a footprint to appear. His mother appeared first, of course, and yelled at him, told him to clean it up. Adedayo was more scared of his mum than he was of an invisible man, so he did what he was told and wondered why he was being singled out for torment by this invisible gentleman when his two younger sisters were way more annoying than he ever managed to be.

Then his grandmother came to stay. She was a small Nigerian woman who didn’t speak much English, but her health wasn’t the best and she couldn’t stay on her own any more. Adedayo’s sisters were told they had to share a room and their grandmother – their beloved ìyá agba – moved in.

It took some time to adjust to a new person in the house, but she was lovely, so nobody minded, and a few weeks later she knocked on Adedayo’s door.

Adedayo didn’t speak much Yoruba, his grandmother’s language. His parents were both English speakers and, once they’d moved to Ireland to start a family, that’s how they’d raised him and his sisters. They’d tried to teach him a few words over the years, but he didn’t have much interest in learning, so, when his grandmother sat beside him on the bed, he prepared himself for a few long, long minutes of hesitations and the slow searching for words in English that always accompanied the rather pointless stories of her childhood. But she was his ìyá agba, and he loved her, so Adedayo smiled and pretended with all his heart to be interested in whatever she had to say.

She surprised him, then, by telling him something so brain-punchingly interesting that it changed his life forever.

She told him, in that hesitant way of hers, that magic was real, and that she was magic, and so was he.

At first, he thought she was just telling him a story to entertain him, but when she clicked her fingers and conjured a fireball into her hand it all started to make sense. The odd occurrences, the weird coincidences, the objects that moved on their own – that was magic. His grandmother explained that there were rules for people like them; there were styles of magic he could specialise in, other magical people – sorcerers, or mages – he could meet. She told him about the Sanctuaries around the world, and the wars that had been fought between the sorcerers who wanted to enslave ordinary people and the sorcerers who wanted to protect them.

He had such a life ahead of him, she said. Such wonders to uncover.

She taught him some things – how to move objects by manipulating the air around them; how to make strands of energy dance in the palms of his hands; how to click his fingers and generate sparks. She told him about the three names that sorcerers have – the name they’re given, the name they take, and their true name, the source of all their power.

But she was an old, old woman, and, a few weeks after his fifteenth birthday, her health deteriorated so much she had to be taken to hospital. Her energy dipped so that she lost all of her English and could only speak the language of her childhood. When Adedayo went in to sit with her, she woke, took his hand and said weakly, “Má şi àpótí.” Then she smiled, and closed her eyes.

Má şi àpótí, he repeated in his head. Má şi àpótí. He made a note to ask his folks what that meant, but it slipped his mind, and his grandmother passed away later that night, and Adedayo was left with a lifetime of questions, a heart full of grief and a polished wooden box.

His grandmother had insisted that it had to go to him, apparently. That only he would know what to do with it.

The box was the size of a biscuit tin. It had carvings across the lid and along the sides – carvings that looked like letters, that looked like words, but weren’t. There was no lock, no latch, no way to open it. There was nothing inside, though. Or there didn’t seem to be when Adedayo’s mum shook it. His dad tried prising the lid off with a screwdriver. Didn’t work.

The wooden box had been sitting on Adedayo’s desk, under a pile of pristine textbooks and dog-eared graphic novels, for weeks when Adedayo woke in the middle of the night, suddenly knowing how to open it.

He got out of bed, crossed the dark room and cleared the junk off the lid. He tapped the carvings on the box’s left and right sides, then pressed, then tapped again and moved his fingers in a swirling motion.

A dim blue light shone from between the carvings, travelling across the box in strange, swirling patterns. There were sounds from inside, like wooden cogs turning.

And then there was a click.

Suddenly apprehensive, and not a little nervous, Adedayo ever so slowly lifted the lid. Inside was dark. Inside was empty.

But something in that emptiness reached out and Adedayo went rigid, his fingers splayed, his legs locked straight, his head back and the muscles in his neck standing out. He felt a consciousness, more than one, poking through his mind, picking out his language, sorting through what he knew of the world, and then his knees wobbled and he went floppy and staggered back a few steps before collapsing.

A hand emerged from the box.

The hand became a forearm and then there was an elbow, and the elbow pressed down on the table for leverage and a shoulder appeared and then a head, a head with a black veil and horns poking out, a head far too big to be squeezing through a box the size of a biscuit tin.

This thing, this being, was called the Sathariel. Adedayo didn’t know how he knew that – he just did. It was like there was a swimming pool full of weird knowledge and he’d just cannonballed into it. He watched the Sathariel climb out of the box and stand by the table, his black robes long and ragged, his breathing heavy, his horns sharp.

He had mottled green hands tipped with black nails, and from his robes he drew a gnarled staff as tall as he was. The smell he brought with him was pungent and made Adedayo think of people screaming.

Something else came out of the box: a tentacle, wet and dripping. It probed the air, then found the table, and a second one came out to join it, then another. Then there were a dozen tentacles, some as thin as a cat’s tongue, some as thick as an elephant’s trunk, and once they’d gained purchase they lifted the Cythraul straight up out of the box.

The Cythraul, the Many-Tentacled One, hid most of his body beneath a robe of soiled crimson, but Adedayo caught a flash of pale, squirming flesh that made his stomach roil. The Cythraul had a wide, gaping mouth lined with small, sharp teeth, like a lamprey eel, and a single black, blinking eye. He looked down at Adedayo and then, thankfully, away.

There was another creature in the box. The last of the Apocalypse Kings unfurled himself from his confinement and stepped into the bedroom. Tall and thin, black-haired and pale, long-faced and red-eyed, the Deathless wore a robe of rags and filth that fitted him like kingly vestments.

He looked round Adedayo’s bedroom and breathed in, then smiled.

“Smells like feet,” he said, and all three of them vanished.

2.

Adedayo got home and apologised for being so late. He told his parents he’d been out walking, thinking about his ìyá agba. They seemed to accept that, and let the matter drop.

His sisters arrived in the kitchen and announced that, even though Ìyá Agba was gone, and so a bedroom was suddenly available, they wanted to keep sharing. They announced this like they expected their request to be denied – his youngest sister’s eyes were already brimming with tears. When they were told that was fine, they shrieked and hugged and hugged their parents and even hugged Adedayo, and ran back to their room.

Adedayo’s dad chuckled and went into the living room.

“Mum,” said Adedayo.

She was making herself a cup of tea. “Yes, sweetie?”

“What was Ìyá Agba’s life like? Back in Nigeria?”

His mum paused. “I’m not too sure, actually. She never talked about it all that much. She was happy, though. I know that.” She smiled. “She used to tell me stories, when I was your youngest sister’s age. All kinds of stories she’d make up about people with amazing names all over Africa. People with magical powers. And in the stories she was always in the middle of the adventure. Always having fun. I miss her.”

“I miss her too.”

His mother’s smile turned sad, and she took a packet of biscuits down from the cupboard and held it out. “Take two,” she said, “and don’t tell your sisters.”

He took two, and she winked and carried her tea to the doorway.

“Mum,” said Adedayo, “what does má şi àpótí mean?”

She frowned. “What?”

“It’s just something Ìyá Agba said to me in hospital. What does it mean?”

“Are you sure that’s what she said?”

“I mean … I might not be remembering it exactly right, but I think so.”

His mum shrugged one shoulder. “It’s just it’s an odd thing to say, that’s all. It means don’t open the box.”

Adedayo looked at her, then nodded. “Yep,” he said. “Makes sense.”

[spaceodyssee]

for christmas two years ago i got my best friend a teapot in the shape of an elephant and recently she told me it was the only thing preventing her kitten from climbing on the table