#The Kintsugi Jar

[marcogiovenale]

oggi, 4 maggio, a roma, all'ex mattatoio: "sintropie. mondo e mondo nuovo"

_

[fallingtowers]

i live in the most haunted house in the northern hemisphere because i keep buying cursed dolls and cracking them open like pistachios to release the ghosts inside em. see i've got this business idea and it's to unethically harvest their ectoplasm and sell it in little jars like honey. unfortunately i've hit a snag, namely that ectoplasm tastes like shit and also if you ingest it you permanently lose the capacity to feel joy. so now i've got a bunch of unsatisfied customers who are literally impossible to please banging on my door at all hours. it doesn't really matter though because the ghosts are already constantly slamming all my doors and cabinets so it's just a wall of sound in here at all times anyway. i'm pretty sure i've got tinnitus now but on the upside i've got this new business idea where i repair old dolls with kintsugi and sell them at a ridiculous markup to etsy women in cuffed corduroy pants.

[chaotic-archaeologist]

https://nypost.com/2024/08/28/world-news/boy-4-accidentally-smashes-bronze-age-jar-that-was-at-least-3500-years-old/

Your thoughts?

Personally, I'm kinda sick of museums being required to cater to kids so much. If you're going to do this open air exhibit, kids who don't know how to keep their hands to themselves just shouldn't be allowed in. The glass is there for this very reason.

Actually, I'm with the museum on this one. Is it unfortunate that the vase was broken? Yes. Was the vase a valuable piece of the past? Also yes. But I think the museum did something very cool by not having the artifacts behind glass and are handling this with good grace and the sense to make this a learning opportunity.

Sometimes we overlook the fact that museums often attempt to arrest or freeze artifacts in time. They are kept in controlled conditions to prevent them from deteriorating and even treated to reverse damage. Many things on display on museums are elevated beyond their original value, alienated from their original purpose, and closed off from interaction.

It's incredible that this jar survived as long as it did—and its age is what makes it special—but at the end of the day, it is still a jar. It has now experienced the thing that happens to pretty much every jar that has been or will be. After all, decay is an extant form of life. (If you want to read a very well written and interesting take on decay and archaeology, check out this article by Caitlin DeSilvey.)

The article I linked above provides some important context and the update that the museum is planning on using this as an opportunity to teach about the conservation process. The jar's story is not over; it is being pieced back together and in this next chapter in its life it will be able to tell two stories: one of its life and the other of its rebirth. The museum's approach embraces that, exactly like the Japanese art of Kintsugi.

I also agree with the museum's decision not to punish the child or his family. Things go wrong in museums all the time despite their highly controlled environments, and this is why they have artifacts insured. Sometimes the thing that happens is a child, and by and large museums do not seek damages.

I would encourage you to rethink your stance on museums and children. Museums are for everyone. Children have a right to experience museums and what they have to offer just like anyone else. There are also many studies that discuss how going to museums benefits children.

In this case, perhaps the exhibit design was slightly flawed, but the four year old boy accidentally knocked the jar over because he was curious about what was inside and wanted to investigate. Curiosity is exactly what museums should be encouraging. In an ideal world that curiosity would have been channeled into some other kind of engagement, but the folks who work in museums have a lot on their plates and cannot plan everything perfectly all the time. Even if they could, they often do not have the resources to do so.

Finally, the AP article mentions that the boy and his family were visiting the museum to get away from Hezbollah rocket fire. Regardless of your opinions on the current conflict, everyone deserves to have a safe place to exist. That museums can serve as those spaces is an honor.

I commend the Hecht Museum and the people working there. They 1) successfully provided a place of learning and refuge, 2) opted not for a punitive approach—which is often the default Western model for justice—but a compassionate one, and 3) are using this twist of fate to create programming that will further engage the public.

@museeeuuuum and @museum-spaces would you care to comment?

-Reid

[claypigeonpottery]

Ceramics for Sale

All prices are in CAD, not including shipping. Send me a DM if you're interested.

I will delete pieces from this post as they're sold, so if you're interested in a piece, please click through to the original post to be sure it's still available. Thanks so much!

Some of these pieces are from my wheel-throwing days, so they're a bit heavy.

Magnets:

Pigeon magnets $20

Delft-patterned pigeon magnets $25

cat and fox magnets $15

jar and animals magnets $20

Plates:

Pigeon Spikes - $80 - price reduced. this piece has not been glazed, it is bisqueware. it was glued back together and the glue line was painted gold to mimic kintsugi. there are two small rough patches where I couldn't scrape back the glue (visible in the pictures). it is not food or dishwasher safe.

Bowls:

Tiny black bowl - $20

Spoon rests and ring dishes:

Avocado spoon rest - $35

Flowery spoon rest - $50

3 ring dishes - $20 each

Mugs and such:

Grassy mug - $40 - this piece is heavy

Small black cup - $20

Vases:

Angular Stone Vase $20 - price reduced, the inside isn't glazed, this is best used for fake flowers

Round Stone Vase $20 - price reduced, the inside isn't glazed, this is best used for fake flowers

Pottery made by my Studio Partners:

Marbled Clay Bowl - $75 - made by a studio friend, Danielle. (unfortunately she doesn't have an insta or anything for her pottery)

Marbled Clay Bowl with iridescent glaze on outside - $70 - also made by Danielle.

Brown Clay, White Glaze bowl - $70 - made by my mom studio partner. not food safe

Shino Cup - $40 - made by my mom studio partner

[incorrectphineasandferbquotes]

Doofensmirtz: I live in the most haunted house in the northern hemisphere because I keep buying cursed dolls and cracking them open like pistachios to release the ghosts inside them. You see I have got this business idea and it's to unethically harvest their ectoplasm and sell it in little jars like honey.

Doofensmirtz: Unfortunately I've hit a snag, namely that ectoplasm tastes terrible and also if you ingest it you permanently lose the capacity to feel joy. So now I've got a bunch of unsatisfied customers who are literally impossible to please banging on my door at all hours. It doesn't really matter though because the ghosts are already constantly slamming all my doors and cabinets so it's just a wall of sound in here at all times anyway. I'm pretty sure i've got tinnitus now but on the upside I've got this new business idea where I repair old dolls with kintsugi and sell them at a ridiculous markup to etsy women in cuffed corduroy pants.

[veinsfullofstars]

🎨 Kirbtober 2024 Day 4: Headcanon 🎨

(ID: Kirby series fanart of Drawcia - pre-corruption, with scratch-like scars on her torso in place of an eye - smiling proudly and using the patterned trim of her cloak to pat the head of a young Adeleine - shorter and more Ado-inspired in design - as she paints at her little easel, the ground around them smattered with daubs of paint, extra brushes, and curled tubes and clay jars of paint. All is cast in the sepia tone of an old memory. END ID.)

Based on my personal headcanons that Addie and Ado are the same person, and that Drawcia might’ve adopted and raised Addie before… well, you know.

Previous Day | Next Day | Prompt List (made by @/paintpanic)

Started on 09/01/24, finished on 09/02/24. | Kintsugi AU Masterpost | Kirbtober 2023 Comp

[thekimonogallery]

Water jar by Studio of Ninsei, 17th century. Repaired by Rokkaku Shisui with golden joinery (kintsugi), Japan

[kusakabesimp]

KusaHigu Headcanons A-Z : Flowers

Nine moments in Kusakabe and Higuruma's life that capture the quiet growth of their relationship, each one blooming like a flower in its own time.

Lilies - Love in Bloom When they finally moved in together, the house already felt cozy, its rooms filled with boxes, the air humming with the promise of their new life. The next few weeks were an intricate dance, two lives intertwining, adjusting to each other's rhythms.

Kusakabe tackled the kitchen first, setting up the cupboards with his usual attention to detail. Tea jars lined the top shelf to catch the light, spices were arranged alphabetically, and cookware was placed just where his hands would instinctively reach. Every movement was deliberate, a quiet choreography that reflected his love for order. Yet, among the neatly stacked items was a charming mix of mismatched dishes, a small collection of bowls and plates they’d each brought along, perfectly imperfect together.

Setting up Higuruma’s study was a process, long nights spent sorting through stacks of files he'd accumulated over the years. Balancing his work as a sorcerer with overhauling the jujutsu legal system was no small task, leading to even more chaos among the scattered paperwork. One evening, as he sifted through legal texts and notes, Kusakabe stepped in, cradling a small arrangement of lilies. The vase’s cracks were lovingly mended with kintsugi, the gold seams glinting softly in the dim study light. He set it on the corner of the desk, the vibrant flowers striking against the dark wood. 'A little bit of me to keep you company,' he said, offering a warm smile.

There were some minor adjustments that came with learning each other’s routines. Kusakabe had always been an early riser, starting his day with practice in the dojo and a moment of meditation before anything else. Higuruma, used to slower mornings, was surprised to find that by the time he finally made it out of bed, Kusakabe had already set the table, made breakfast, and started a fresh pot of coffee. He would sit casually on the couch, reading the newspaper and waiting patiently so they could eat together before heading to work.

As February slipped by, the house started to feel more like theirs. Each room, once just a place to put their things, slowly became a canvas for the life they were building together. New rituals unfolded like petals, each one a step in the early bloom of their life together.

Pine - New Beginnings Higuruma stirred awake to the comforting weight of Kusakabe’s arm wrapped around him, a presence that still felt a little new. He leaned over for a kiss, feeling the light stubble on the samurai's chin brush against his lips. "Good morning."

"Morning," Kusakabe murmured, eyes still closed but a smile on his face.

They huddled together under the blanket, sheltering against the cool morning air, their legs tangled beneath the soft fabric. Kusakabe snugged the lawyer close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. Higuruma was still growing accustomed to these quiet gestures of affection, yet it was something he found himself craving without even realizing it.

“Let’s visit the shrine,” Kusakabe said softly as he spoke into Hiromi's curls, pulling him closer. “It’s a nice way to start our year — make a wish, look forward to what’s ahead.”

Higuruma nodded, keeping his expression calm, though a flicker of excitement stirred inside him. Being invited to share this experience felt special, knowing how much the samurai valued his solitude.

Bundled up against the January chill, they set off toward the mountain shrine, fingers laced together as they walked beneath the towering pines. The soft crunch of needles underfoot and the fresh scent of the forest made for a peaceful backdrop, their breaths forming little puffs in the cold air. The trail wasn’t steep, but each step felt purposeful, as if they were moving toward something meaningful together. Higuruma found himself glancing over at Kusakabe more than once, taking in the gentle smile that seemed permanently etched on his face this afternoon.

The world felt suspended when they reached the summit, hushed under the vast, open sky. Kusakabe released Higuruma's hand as they approached the offering box to draw an omikuji fortune, respecting the personal space needed for this quiet ritual.

With his eyes closed, Higuruma made a wish: that this feeling, this quiet, steady love, would remain and grow stronger with time.

Kusakabe smiled when Higuruma's omikuji revealed 'great fortune.' The samurai held up his own slip, reading 'average.' "Well, I’ll need to stick closer to you this year," he grinned. "My luck is always better when you’re around."

As they made their way back, Kusakabe paused beneath one of the larger pines, a soft smile forming on his face. He broke off a tiny sprig, inspecting it with reverence before handing it to Higuruma, who took it with a smile of his own. This pine would soon nestle in the ikebana arrangement that Kusakabe had placed at the bedside — a reminder of new love taking root between them, evergreen and enduring.

Plum Blossoms - A Happy Home The rain started early, pattering softly against the windows and wrapping the house in a calming gray. It was the kind of day that asked for nothing more than simply being home. Kusakabe was the first to rise, naturally drawn into the kitchen. Before diving into the usual Saturday breakfast prep, he paused, picking up a small vase filled with the plum blossoms he'd gathered the day before.

With a mindful touch, he arranged the branches, letting their curves guide his hands. Each blossom found its place, creating a gentle balance that mirrored the harmony of their shared lives. Setting the vase on the table, he took a moment to admire his work. The soft sounds of the house stirring, faint rustles and sleepy murmurs, brought a smile to his face, quiet reminders of the warmth and love that filled their home.

Higuruma wandered in, sleep still softening his features, wrapped in a blanket as he plopped on the couch. Miwa sat at the kitchen table, absorbed in a book (courtesy of Kusakabe), and Yuji soon joined, rubbing his eyes but already grinning at the smell of food. The four of them shared a lazy breakfast, their conversations punctuated by gentle tones and laughter.

Afterward, they remained close, each caught up in their own activities while sharing the same space. Kusakabe, typically busy with weekend chores, allowed himself a rare moment of stillness, sinking into his chair with a book of poetry. Sensing her dad’s calmness, Miwa settled on the floor at his feet, lying on her back with her book held above her, a dreamy smile on her face. Yuji bounced around the house with his usual boundless energy, eventually flopping down beside Miwa to flip through a manga. Higuruma lazed on the couch, content to listen to the soft sound of the rain.

Before long, Kusakabe shifted to the couch and, with a tender touch, wrapped his arm around Higuruma, drawing him in. Leaning into the embrace, Higuruma let himself rest against Kusakabe's shoulder, the gentle rise and fall of his lover's breath creating a familiar rhythm that calmed his mind.

Kusakabe glanced around the room, smiling to himself, realizing they weren’t just individuals coexisting anymore; they were becoming a family.

Sakura: A Moment in Time The morning of Miwa’s birthday dawned clear and bright, as if even the sky had decided to celebrate. They arrived at the festival just as the sakura petals began to fall, drifting down in a gentle pink haze over the pathways. Kusakabe led them carefully through the busy crowd, winding his way to a quiet spot beneath a large tree whose branches were heavy with blossoms.

They spread out on a blanket, their small group nestled amidst the gentle hum of other families and festival-goers enjoying the day. The light filtered through the branches and danced across their spread, casting a delicate pattern of shadows that made everything feel dreamlike and suspended in time.

Kusakabe had packed everyone a bento, filling each section with Miwa’s favorite foods. The two teenagers, both swept up in the festive spirit, darted from one food stand to another, coming back with candy and treats, which they insisted on sharing with everyone.

Between bites and sips of tea, conversation flowed easily. Yuji, ever the storyteller, recounted a recent training mishap "with his grumpy sensei," drawing laughter from Miwa and a soft chuckle from the sensei himself.

After they’d finished eating, Miwa’s eyes sparkled with a playful brightness. “Dad, Higuruma-san! Take a picture together!" she said, grabbing Kusakabe's phone and holding it up, flashing her best pouty smile. "For me, pleeeeease!"

Yuji immediately chimed in with an enthusiastic nod, and soon, both Kusakabe and Higuruma found themselves ushered under the branches for an impromptu photo session. They posed reluctantly at first, but Miwa’s delighted encouragement and Yuji’s good-natured teasing soon eased their hesitation. One picture became ten, then twenty, and soon they’d lost track as the two teenagers fussed over their poses, insisting on just one more.

“Perfect,” Miwa finally declared, giving Kusakabe his phone back with a satisfied smile.

Later, as they strolled back to the car, Kusakabe scrolled through the photos. He stopped on one, a candid shot capturing the two of them leaning into each other and laughing as petals floated softly around them.

Without a word, he set it as his lock screen, and just a few moments later, Higuruma glanced over, his lips curling into a soft, knowing smile.

Wisteria - Love Poem Kusakabe sat at the kitchen table in the early morning light, his pen hovering over a blank page. He’d written countless verses over the years, but somehow, the words he needed now seemed heavy and elusive. Expressing the depth of his feelings for Higuruma had always been a challenge. It was like trying to catch a butterfly with bare hands, beautiful but just out of reach.

He picked up the pen, put it down, and reached for it again, hoping the lines might appear if he just waited long enough. Leaning back, he ran a hand through his hair and let his gaze wander around the home they now shared.

Closing his eyes, he let memories of the previous night drift back to him: the quiet walk they'd shared through the wisteria arches, their steps naturally in sync. There had been no need for words then; in the soft silence, everything he felt was somehow understood. But here, alone, he found himself wrestling with the words he hoped could show Higuruma even a fraction of his love.

It had been five months since they’d begun sharing their lives, weaving their routines together like delicate vines of wisteria wrapping around one another. How could he capture the way they’d grown, the quiet comfort of waking up to each other, or the warmth that filled even the most ordinary days?

Finally, he lifted the pen and began to write. This time, he poured his heart onto the page, each line a piece of his heart laid bare.

In wisteria's shade moonlight stitched between our steps I felt time slow every step a heartbeat's pause each breath wrapped in you, us

He set the pen down and looked over the tanka. It wasn’t perfect, but it was his. It was simple and honest, just like the life they were building together. Rising from the table, he gathered a few wisteria blossoms, their delicate lavender petals still fresh and soft with dew.

He arranged them in a small jar and entered the bedroom. Higuruma was still asleep, his breathing soft and measured. After setting the arrangement by the bathroom mirror, Kusakabe held the poem for a moment, a smile crossing his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to its corner before tucking it into the heart of the blooms.

Before leaving the room, he stepped softly to the bedside, his heart swelling with affection. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on Higuruma's cheek. “I love you,” he whispered, knowing Hiromi would hear it in his dreams.

Iris - To Love and to Cherish Kusakabe paused in the doorway of Higuruma's study, a steaming mug of tea in hand, watching the lawyer's expression as he focused intently on the papers scattered across the desk. Kusakabe cherished this look: the subtle crease in Hiromi's brow, the way his lips pressed together when he was deep in thought. He lingered for a moment before stepping into the room, tiptoeing across the floorboards to avoid breaking Higuruma’s concentration too soon.

Crossing the room quietly, he came to Higuruma’s side, feeling the warmth of the teacup in his hands as he held it just above the desk. But before he could set it down, Higuruma’s voice broke the silence.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” the lawyer said, his tone calm and steady as if he’d only just noticed Kusakabe standing there. He continued, scribbling a few notes on the page in front of him. “About us getting married.”

Kusakabe froze, the mug hovering in midair as his mind tried to catch up with the words.

Without looking up, Higuruma continued. “It would be good for the kids, give them a stable family structure. It would help with a lot of things, logistically speaking." He spoke carefully, though a faint blush began to color his cheeks, barely noticeable in the low light of the study. “But there are…other reasons too, of course.”

“You’re," Higuruma’s voice wavered, and he cleared his throat. “You’re good for me, Atsuya." He tapped the pen lightly against the edge of the desk, trailing off as if he wasn't sure what else to say.

Finally, he looked up and met Kusakabe’s eyes, only to find him standing perfectly still, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in surprise. A flicker of uncertainty crossed Higuruma’s face as he took in the samurai's unreadable expression.

“Atsuya?” he asked, voice soft, almost hesitant. “Is… that a yes?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, as if snapping out of a dream, Kusakabe blinked, and a smile began to spread slowly across his face, filling his eyes with unmistakable warmth. Slowly, he set the tea down and reached for the small vase of fresh irises on Higuruma's desk. He plucked a single stem, then lowered himself to one knee, holding the flower between them.

Kusakabe held his gaze, his voice soft but sure. “Yes,” he whispered, the word carrying a depth that left no room for doubt. “A thousand times, yes.”

Rose: A Bouquet for Tomorrow Kusakabe stood at Shoko's door, lingering awkwardly as he glanced at Yuji and Miwa, who were standing together in the hallway. “No dates while we're gone, please,” Kusakabe said softly to his girl, gently brushing her bangs to the side as he gave her a warm smile. His gaze flicked to his phone, running through a list of reminders. “And both of you, remember to practice your kata twice a day.”

Shoko rolled her eyes, setting down their bags and lighting a cigarette. “I’m sure they’ll survive,” she said dryly. “Go relax for once. We’ll make sure they don’t burn the place down.”

Before Kusakabe could say anything else, Utahime walked over, shoving a bouquet of roses into his hands as she gave him a firm but affectionate shove out the door. “Seriously, you worry too much. Now, go. Enjoy your honeymoon.”

It wasn't a grand trip. A honeymoon didn’t need extravagance or planning, not when every day of their lives was rushed and chaotic. The past several months had been a blur of work, exhaustion, and fleeting moments together. But now, with the world on pause, they had three days, and that was enough.

He glanced over at Higuruma, who had buried himself under six layers of sunscreen and a wide-brimmed bucket hat. The sight made Kusakabe chuckle, but it was also endearing. The lawyer had only been fishing with him once before, a disaster of a day with a sunburn so severe he ended up in Shoko's clinic.

“You look like you’re preparing for battle,” Kusakabe teased lightly, casting his line into the water. “But this time, it's the sun instead of a curse.”

Higuruma huffed softly, adjusting his hat with a faint smile. “After last time, I think it’s warranted."

A quiet warmth spread through Kusakabe, the kind that came from knowing Higuruma trusted him enough to drop his usual reservations, even if only for a moment. They fished in companionable silence, the only sounds the occasional plunk of Kusakabe’s line and the soothing wash of the waves.

As the sun began to set, they left their spot by the water and wandered along the shoreline, shoes in hand, feeling the cool sand shift beneath their feet. The lights from town glimmered faintly in the distance, but right now, it felt as if the world was theirs alone, softened in the glow of the fading sunset.

They had never had time like this before — time to simply be, without the noise of their usual lives. Here, they weren’t sorcerers or teachers or anything but themselves. Just two people, choosing each other with every step.

Sunflowers - Until I Come Home The house felt emptier these days, the spaces between the walls stretching further each time Kusakabe left for a mission. The days they shared, mornings with coffee and evenings on the couch, were all interrupted by the weight of Atsuya's new responsibilities.

Higuruma found himself reaching for the jar on the kitchen counter more times than he could count. A simple glass jar with a hand-painted sunflower on the lid that carried something special. Each slip of paper inside held a piece of Kusakabe’s heart.

Kusakabe would often tuck a note into the jar while Higuruma was absorbed in something else, the faint scratch of pen on paper that the lawyer heard a sound that had come to symbolize his husband's love. It always seemed to happen at just the right moment: when Higuruma was nestled in a blanket with a book and a cup of tea or deep in study at his desk.

On quiet nights, after their long phone calls, when Kusakabe’s voice was still fresh in his ears but the house felt too large without him, Higuruma would wander into the kitchen.

He'd take the lid off the jar, reach in for a note, and almost hear Kusakabe’s voice in his mind as he unfolded the paper. "Remember the first time we saw fireflies in the garden?" one note said. Another read, "I’m counting down the days until I can hold you again."

Kusakabe’s love never felt distant, even when he was far away. It lived in the words he left behind. Higuruma smiled as he read them over and over, certain that Kusakabe, wherever he was, could feel the warmth of his smile.

Chrysanthemums - A Year of Memories It had been a year since the world had changed forever. A year since their lives had been irrevocably altered by the battle that claimed so many. But this month was also their anniversary, their own quiet celebration of survival, love, and the family they had become.

Kusakabe stood by the window, looking out over the city, the quiet peace a stark contrast to the chaos of that December. A vase of chrysanthemums sat on the windowsill, their delicate petals a soft reminder of the lives they’d lost but also a symbol of resilience and renewal. Higuruma joined him, and the two of them silently acknowledged the weight of the day but didn't let it overshadow the warmth between them.

“We didn’t know where we’d be a year ago,” Higuruma murmured, his voice soft, thoughtful.

Kusakabe leaned into his side, his presence grounding. “No. But we’re here. And we’re together.”

They thought of the children, the ones they cared for, those they had promised to protect. Yuji, Miwa, and the others — each of them still carrying the scars of the past but growing, living, and learning under their guidance. It wasn’t easy, but they carried forward the memory of the fallen with every act of kindness and every lesson they passed on.

Today was the time for a quiet dinner, a simple moment spent in their shared space, no words necessary. It was about the love that had grown between them, deepened by the trials they’d faced, and the comfort they found in knowing that they didn’t have to navigate this world alone.

"To honor them," Kusakabe said softly, raising a glass, "we live. We carry forward, for them and for us."

Higuruma lifted his glass in return. "For our family, and the love that keeps us whole."

This is a gift for @jadedjane, thank you for being one of my first supporters, and a very dear friend. Thank you for always cheering me on!

[strangepersonthefirst]

I don't know why I keep throwing hope to this venture. I'm looking at it! I've seen it! 7 months. I paid an artist. 7 fucking months they've sent me nothing. I should throw in the towel when It comes to depictions. I want to run the sparks over my hands and force it, perhaps. it slides into a sigh, then a wheeze. I don't know if I should care. I don't know why it bugs me so much. I know who I am. I see it in my mind's eye, My long hair, the stars, the feathers, My tool, And Brooks. We're one figure on a cliff, one simple picture, and when you see the image we stare out at, the swirling color of the edge, the "kingdom", the santucary I wanted to guard, the world I've consumed, the harbour my 'stomach', or perhaps the people who will use my form one day. Judgement, False Idols, Signings, the death of ideas, Fangs, Kintsugi, Burning of the Soul to Reform, the Stilling of the Wind, Name's Mockery, many thousands of titles, loop them around eachother until you find the true name, Thieves of my Light. People don't want Magic in the way I see it. Not truly. they want their answer. You put a coat on it, dress me up how you like, but I will not change in a jar or in sigil. I am just the way to do things you cannot do normally. You still have to do it. You still have to Own up to the action when it hurts. You still have to make that decision to defend yourself. You must bring your voice to my table and scream at me what it is you want. I will die without a depiction that fits my most recent form, I think. No hands cradling my loves, no sparks in the sky, no thread, no mouths singing any of my songs that embody me. Maybe that would be fine if my physical body felt like all of me. But it's just a piece. The core to a dance of arms, light, magic. of Being. I don't want worship, just to be witnessed. And I will have neither. for to see me is to burn. To use magic is to learn you do not need it to survive. To be me is to know you will stand alone even as you build a crowd. Nobody will die on my dime.

[bun-lapin]

TWST Mementos HC: Octavinelle

A/N: Headcanons I have for what kind of memento/object of sentimental value the characters from Twisted Wonderland would give you to symbolize your special relationship. This time it's about Octavinelle!

Azul: An expensive, one of a kind teapot and cup that he bought from a master pottery studio. It's a deep blue color decorated with lines of gold in a kintsugi style. He has a matching tea cup and will often bring new tea blends for you to try together.

Jade: A large terrarium he made for you containing soft moss, some ferns, and a few tiny mushrooms. The inside is decorated with beautiful shells and crystals placed carefully in the moss. At night, the mushrooms give off a gentle glow and make the shells and crystals sparkle with light. Whenever Jade visits you, he'll check on the terrarium and offer advice for its care.

Floyd: A candy jar he decorated with googly eyes and a smile made from glued on seashells. The jar itself is made of a beautiful glass with a rainbow sheen. Floyd likes to call the jar "Mr. Candy". When he notices the candy in the jar is getting low, he'll yell "Time to feed Mr. Candy~!" and then dump all the candy he's currently carrying into the jar.

[marcogiovenale]

"sintropie": il 4 maggio a roma

_

[incorrectgallifreyquotes]

Arkadian: I live in the most haunted house in the galaxy because I keep buying cursed dolls and cracking them open like pistachios to release the ghosts inside them. You see I have got this business idea and it's to unethically harvest their ectoplasm and sell it in little jars like honey. Arkadian: Unfortunately I've hit a snag, namely that ectoplasm tastes terrible and also if you ingest it you permanently lose the capacity to feel joy. So now I've got a bunch of unsatisfied customers who are literally impossible to please banging on my door at all hours. It doesn't really matter though because the ghosts are already constantly slamming all my doors and cabinets so it's just a wall of sound in here at all times anyway. I'm pretty sure i've got tinnitus now but on the upside I've got this new business idea where I repair old dolls with kintsugi and sell them at a ridiculous markup to etsy women in cuffed corduroy pants.

[the-badger-mole]

How Things Fall Apart

Zuko liked to believe that Mai had loved him once. At least, she had once loved a version of him. When he failed to live up to that image she'd built up in his head, all pretext of affection faded in short order.

It wasn't all Mai's fault, Zuko conceded. He had learned to ask her what exactly she wanted as gifts, but he still managed to disappoint. One year, he hadn't been able to afford to replace the diamond bracelet she'd lost during a vacation to Ember Island, so he'd gotten her what he thought was a lovely bracelet with a cheaper alternative stone (the Fire Nation was weathering an inflation crisis, and Zuko thought it would be gauche to spend so much money on the high quality gems imported from the Earth Kingdom instead of increasing the palace staff's salary). Another year, when the country was in a better place financially, Zuko splurged on a new set of throwing knives crafted by the finest blacksmiths under Master Piando's direction. Mai hadn't wanted more steel blades. She wanted the black blades crafted from the meteorite the Southern Tribe's prince had gifted Piando (Zuko's correction about Sokka not being a prince went unheard). It didn't matter that Piando had already made plans on how to use that stone, Zuko was the Fire Lord, and that should mean something. Zuko could do nothing right by Mai. She had still not forgiven him for getting rid of the stately palanquins.

After the birth of their first, and as it would turn out, only child, Mai became more distant. It was an improvement, Zuko told himself philosophically, over shouting matches and heavy objects being thrown at him (Mai never threw a blade at him, and she always made sure whatever she threw hit the wall and not Zuko. He was, after all, the Fire Lord). As long as Mai had access to the royal coffers, relative peace was kept. Zuko was certain that she had at least one lover, but he was content to ignore it, as long as Mai kept up a reasonable amount of discretion. Instability in the Fire Nation's royal family could have far reaching consequences, after all.

Iroh, ever the optimistic presence in Zuko's life, told his nephew about an art practiced in certain parts of the Fire Nation called kintsugi. Instead of throwing away broken things, the artists would carefully gather the broken parts and using a mixture of gold dust and lacquer, piece the broken things back together. The finished products often looked more beautiful than the original. Zuko thought he understood. Finally, fifteen years after he ascended the throne, eleven years after becoming a husband, and seven years after becoming a father, Zuko and the Fire Nation found a sense of equilibrium. The Fire Nation's economy had begun to right itself; a new curriculum designed to fight the decades of propaganda had been approved and implemented; feasible reparation agreements had been reached with the countries most damaged by the war and colonialism. Zuko and Mai only spoke when necessary for public appearances and state functions, and Izumi was growing into a precocious, inquisitive and imaginative child, to say nothing of her firebending prowess. If Zuko's daughter felt the absence of her mother, she hid it very well. Then one day, the peaceful existence Zuko had carved for himself and his child was shattered.

Mai's death was sudden and jarring. Zuko hadn't known anything was wrong until late that night, when a servant, disheveled and out of breath from sprinting to Zuko's chambers from hers, told him that a physician had been called for the Fire Lady, but the outlook was grim.

Officially, Mai had died after suffering from a hemorrhage caused by the miscarriage of her second child. While a few errant rumors floated around for a few months afterwards, the truth (that the child Mai was carrying wasn't Zuko's, and the miscarriage was intentional) was known to only a handful of Zuko's most trusted friends and family. Zuko grieved, though perhaps not as might be expected of a widower suddenly left alone to raise a child. He mourned what might have been if they hadn't married; mourned the family life he would never be able to give his daughter; mourned the lack of a partner who would stand at his side and help him move the country towards a more progressive, inclusive future. Most of all, he mourned the death of his hope of having anything better for himself.

Zuko didn't wallow, though. As little hope as he had left for his own prospects, he wanted Izumi to retain her own bright outlook for the future. He would have some help there with the expected arrival of Katara and her two children. It would be good, Zuko thought, for his daughter to have friends her age. As it would turn out, it was good for Zuko to have a friend around, too. When she stepped off the boat, clothed in a gauzy gold fabric gifted to her by the queen of Omashu, Zuko felt the weight in his heart lighten for the first time in years.

Follow up to Severing the Tie

Next, How Do You Mend?

[rigormortissettingin]

about me

my name is not Hannah

I am a minor do not come for me old man

I live in England but I kind of like it

eye colour: greeny greyish

hair colour: brunette

fav subjects at school: english, latin and biology

hobbies: reading, playing piano, playing cello, writing, baking

taste in books: to kill a mockingbird, the secret history, the outsider, the virgin suicides, girl interrupted, the queen’s gambit, frankenstein, dracula, lolita, anything by Oscar Wilde and Franz Kafka and Edgar Allen Poe, the bell jar

taste in films: the aristocats, the virgin suicides, bambi, buffalo ‘66, girl, interrupted, dead poets society, heathers, pearl, romeo and juliet, the year of living dangerously, beetle juice, the breakfast club,

taste in music: lana del rey, fiona apple, princess chelsea, hole, mitzki, tv girl, nirvana, the velvet underground and lou reed and nico, deftones, ethel cain, nancy and frank sinatra, mazzystar, cigarettes after sex, arctic monkeys, air, marina, taylor swift, the psychedelic furs, the smiths, the neighbourhood, melanie martinez, cults, abba, beach house, bon iver, queen, roar

favourite people: my mother, my father, my grandparents, the very short mental list of friends, anya taylor joy, lana del rey, fiona apple, winona ryder, angelina jolie, timothee chalamalabingbong, lana del rey, christina ricci, grace kelley, frank and nancy sinatra, marilyn monroe, lana del rey, dakota warren, lana del rey

favourite colours: pink, red and blue

fun fact: i can fit my whole fist into my mouth

likes:

my mother

my father

my grandparents

candles

lana del rey

book

music

reading

dying

writing

school (not the people in it)

fluffy socks

warm showers

long skirts

being a girl (sometimes)

patrick bateman

kafka

the bell jar

smiling at strangers

dancing in my room

singing in showers

flowers

strawbeerries

grass

lying in the sun

bunnies

dogs

cats

gilmore girls

gothic horror literature

cecilia and bonnie lisbon

vintage films

hitchcock films

polly torch clark

fiona apple

princess chelsea

kintsugi (song)

crying

the smell of smoke

rain

God

mia goth

anything cinnamon related

second hand books + bookshops

80s and 90s films

gruesomely and disgusting horror films

lady dakota warren

thank you very much for spending your time reading this

[eggyslang]

haven’t been posting much lately bc ive been on a huge JAR media kick for the past couple weeks. heres a little drawing dump of stuff ive posted to the reddit :] [im eggyslang on there too]

the first one is inspired by james’ 4 years later video where he brings up kintsugi.

the trio is the jar guys as classic halloween monsters [wolfman, headless horseman, frank’s monster]

the last drawing is the guys wearing outfits inspired by their pets

[patternwelded-quill]

Finally starting something I've been meaning to since covid. Okay, a lot longer bit this time I'm cheating and using a diy kit.

Kintsugi, for those unfamiliar with the word, refers to the Japanese art of pottery repair with lacquer and gold/silver dust. The idea is the break and repair is part of the item's history and highlighted.

My lacquer is doneskies and needs replaced, and while I have silversmith experience for blade ornaments... well I'm poor.

So this is more epoxsugi? Practicing on a broken kitchen jar lid. Come follow me on this journey as I huff glue fumes and mica (myka?) powder... I mean fix this lid.