#ceramic plates & platters

[littlealienproducts]

Ceramic Floral Platter by LauraLauraBird

[kinsentokyo]

Koishiwara Pottery

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[earthan11]

Shop our top eco-friendly home decor items

This image give inforation about Our ceramic Item

1 ceramic oil bottles 2 ceramic coffee mugs 3 ceramic teapot & jug

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[woodenstreetfurniture]

Plates vs. Platters: What's Right for You?

[ackerifle]

Hello! Can you please do a scenario where reader comes to help Levi do paperwork in his office and he offers her some tea. She doesn't think much of it and drinks the tea, but soon starts to feel dizzy before going unconscious. The next day, she wakes up in his bed, naked, and wrapped in his arms.

paperwork date!

yan. captain levi ackerman x fem vice captain. reader

+ CW. — abuse of power & authority, drugging, slight gaslighting, implied: rape/non-con & somnophilia.

you are starting to believe that captain levi’s office is becoming yours with how often you spend your time there. even your fellow special operations squadmates tease you for your absence now that you’ve taken on the new — and quite precarious — position as vice captain. although you have yet to find a plausible reason as to why the captain promoted you in the first place, let alone allowed your entry into his meticulously handpicked squad. and coincidentally, you simply cannot recall the last time you had a break from captain levi’s overbearing presence, and his room, since becoming his vice captain.

oftentimes, at this late hour in the evening, it is you who brews and brings tea for captain levi— per his request, that is, and for whatever godforsaken reason that he has yet to divulge, but who are you to defy orders? the first day you had been requested to his office to assist with the arduous hours of labor that was completing paperwork, you had thought to prepare some tea. it was meant to be a kind, one-time, gesture of reassurance and camaraderie from your end. but now you fear that your captain’s become rather spoiled, as the second time around when you had showed up empty handed, he looked far from pleased.

so alas, you come to a standstill in front of his office’s door. pitch perfect posture, not a thread misplaced on your uniform, and hands settled onto the handles of a small silver platter tray. your eyes absentmindedly drift to the contents atop the salver: a ceramic teapot that is far too nice to have been found in the survey corps, two matching cups and saucers of the same lavish set, a dainty teaspoon, a creamer, and a bowl for sugar cubes accompanied by sugar tongs; and even though you know quite well that he doesn’t utilize the latter two dishware, you are adamant about keeping them for formality's sake. but you can’t help but feel that you’ve neglected to include something in the assortment.

due to your hands being held hostage by the tea that captain levi was so persistent on you delivering, you clear your throat to announce your arrival, “sir, it’s vice captain name.” he doesn’t entertain your salutation with a response of his own, but rather, gauchely slams open the door with concerning haste. you dwell on the fact that it was just too fast, even for someone of his caliber, almost inhumanely so, and it makes you speculate if levi was stationed right at the entrance, waiting for you.

levi’s expression is unreadable, but his frown is apparent as ever. he’s blocking the doorway with his body, one hand holding the door at arms length, and the other pointing inside the room towards the desk at the center of his office, “you, inside. now.” his voice is stern, addressing you as if he were reprimanding you for insubordination. it causes you to grimace, but you know better than to test levi’s last nerve.

you step inside, cautious as to not tip over any of the cups, or cause the tea you had spent such a fastidious amount of time brewing to overflow out past the flange of the teapot. hurriedly and heedfully all in the same, you navigate your way to the guest-side front of levi’s desk, avoiding the chair and stacks of paperwork in your way; and you are beyond attentive whilst lowering the silver plate down until it is completely flat on the table. you don’t release your white knuckled grip on the handles until you see the contents on the platter tray have stopped trembling. had you not been so immersed in your soundless struggle to appease levi’s strict cleanliness standards, you would have picked up on the sound of the door being locked.

sighing softly, relieved, you slump your shoulders and pull the chair beside you by its crest rail, wincing when it scrapes against the floor and creating an obnoxious screech in retaliation, before taking a seat. levi enters your line of vision from the left, and you flinch when he cuts unnecessarily close to you, enough for you to feel his uniform’s coat brush past yours, but not enough to feel his body beneath it. a scowl instinctively makes its way on your face, one that you cannot hide, and you’re thankful he didn’t catch it, faced away from you entirely. levi swivels his heel with sharp precision once he’s stood on his side of the desk, standing in front of his chair, but he doesn’t sit.

there is a pair of inkwells on the desk, wedged between the piles of untouched documents, and you take hold of the one that still has its lid sealed on. near to the opened inkwell are a couple of feather pens, one is in rough condition, and two seem untainted by the ink and whatever iron grip they were unfortunately subjected to for the past few hours. you retrieve the one furthest from the middle of the table, and when it finally dawns on you that levi has still yet to make a move to sit down after a lengthy silence, you hesitantly tilt your head to take a glance in his direction.

he appears in deep thought, concentrated on something beyond your immediate comprehension, until you follow his gaze down to the silver tray. and now that you bring your attention to it, the tea has a delightful aroma to it, and smells as though it’s finally been steeped long enough— “you forgot the strainer.” levi isn’t pointing it out, he’s chastising you.

pesky tea leaves, curse you. perhaps an oversight on your part, the one that you had intuitively sensed earlier but could not place a finger to, but minuscule as a stand-alone mishap. how mean of him, really, it was as if levi was trying to find something he could fault you in. and considering the scrupulous amount of time he took to detect such a minor mistake, he would not be satisfied until he did. you can’t ascertain whether it’s because levi loathes the thought of you doing anything right without his personal interference, or he simply gets a power trip by nitpicking at you. you’re starting to believe it’s both.

“i’m sorry, i can go get one right now—” levi interrupts you, or more fittingly, silences you, without even so much as uttering a word. he takes the handle of the teapot with the two fingers of his right hand, mindful of its fragility, and gathering the teacups together in his left hand. “nonsense, i already have one.”

levi turns his back to you, setting the ceramics atop the dressers lined up on the wall behind his desk. without missing a beat, he locates the drawer containing this supposed strainer with ease, and sure enough, a tiny mesh tea strainer can be seen pinched between his pointer finger and thumb. of course captain levi has this in his office, he may as well have the whole tea set hidden in that drawer, and of course, captain levi can compensate for every single flaw and shortcoming his vice captain has.

his fondness for the craft is evident as he takes it into his own hands to strain the tea for both cups, “sir, i could have done that.” forcing yourself to avert your eyes, as if dismissing the whole (ridiculous) ordeal altogether, aggravatedly setting the closest report down in front of you and skimming the words, “i know.”

levi returns to his seat, this time, he does sit, but not after returning the teapot and teacups to their rightful places on the expertly organized platter, “here.” he lifts one of the cups in that peculiar way that he always does, by the edge of its rim, and extends a hand towards you, “you brewed it, it’d be a shame for me to enjoy all this good quality tea alone.”

reluctantly, you entangle your hands around the handle, impatiently pulling it from his grasp before he can properly let go, and you drink until the teacup is half empty. sparing a passing glance at levi as you carefully set the cup back on its respective saucer, he seems satiated.

falling into routine, the rest of your exchange is done quietly. only the sound of feather pens making detailed incisions on the papers ricocheted throughout the idle office. and perhaps it’s the finely written cursive on the papers, or that it is well past curfew, but your eyelids feel unbearably heavy. it had become increasingly difficult for you to remain upright, slightly swaying in your seat, desperately attempting to regain your composure every time you nearly fall out of your chair. one particularly long blink has you absolutely reeling once you open your eyes, but the feeling of something brushing against your knee has you retaining consciousness instantaneously.

parting your lips with a surprised exhale, your eyes peer down to your legs, but there is nothing out of the ordinary. it must have been the inner side of the desk, the opening that created leg room so two people could sit comfortably across from one another. that sounded far better than accusing your captain of purposefully invading your personal space— seeing as such a thing has never happened before, him intentionally rubbing against your knee with his own, that is. you dismiss the notion altogether, but then it happens again, and this time, it feels like a hand.

“did… did you just touch me?” levi calmly takes his focus off his paperwork, momentarily stilling the movement of his feather pen, “no.” but for some reason, you still doubt him. and levi surmises as much as his eyes narrow, though not with suspicion, but something else that you can’t quite figure out in your delirious state, “are you sure?”

“do you want me to touch you?” he inquires with such sudden seriousness, it catches you off guard. your reaction time has been awful, but you almost immediately blurt out a; “no.” and your response is a little too quick for his liking.

“no?” levi echoes coldly.

no, that is what you recall from your last moments of blurred consciousness, but you can’t remember if you had said it, or levi had. quite honestly, that had become the least of your concerns as soon as you opened your eyes. met with the unforgiving glare of the sun shining through a suspiciously large window that most certainly didn’t belong to your room, you break into a sweat when you inhale the familiar scent of someone else, and you’ve become increasingly aware of how unbearably warm you are. you’ve been stripped bare, and despite being engulfed in a tangle of blankets and sheets, you feel disturbingly exposed. and you know this feeling, one of another naked body pressed against your backside and a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. any move you had initially tried to make was futile, thrashing about to free your own arms from the lock of the other pair, tugging at his wrists and pushing them down with all your might.

it’s startling when the hold around your waist suddenly tightens, as if constricting you out of breath, “you can deny it all you want, but your body loves it when i touch you.” you don’t need to turn and face the man keeping you hostage in his arms because levi’s voice is unmistakable, “it’s about time that i fuck you while you’re conscious anyway.”

[formulaforza]

hello, hello! can i request a blurb where carlos and reader have moved in together and are having a housewarming party. they’ve invited a couple drivers over and lando tries to use the fancy hermes blanket on the couch and reader gasps! "what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?" "it's for show!" "oh for the love of god-" you’d do it amazingly 🫶🏼 thank you!

—coming home carlos sainz x reader love, mackie... hi nonnie!! this turned into exactly how I needed to spend my evening (my day was quite literally from hell.) and this ran a little longer than a blurb at 1.3k words! regardless, I hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing it (and listening to lots of Spanish music)

There wasn’t much that was easy about blending the home decor styles of you and your boyfriend. For every item that Carlos fell in love with, you had an equal and opposite styled piece that you were in love with. From the herringbone floors to the tall white walls, it seemed that everything in the place was a direct contrast of the other. Quiet luxury and old money and neon signs and maximalist paint swatches, it was almost an entire year before the two of you finally allowed guests to come over (which–by the way–was a direct conflict to one of the major reasons the two of you decided to move in together in the first place: hosting friends and family without arguing over who would be doing the hosting).

The week following the Spanish Grand Prix felt like the perfect time to finally show your home off to the people you loved most; everyone was already in Barcelona for Carlos, an hour and change flight or a two and a half hour train ride wouldn’t kill any of them, not when half of them had to make their way back to the capital. 

That’s how it all cumulated into the night of all nights. The coffee table books are surrounded by half full, mis-matched wine glasses on old Spanish tile coasters (a compromise the two of you had made over the intricate hand painted ceramic that previously adorned the kitchen walls). The record player in the corner of the room stutters its way through Carlos’ dusty Boleros In Trío vinyl while the bluetooth speaker in the kitchen serenades listeners with the sounds of Sebastian Yatra. 

Everytime Carlos enters a room, he flips the lightswitch on. You follow behind him turning the overheads back off, opting for the warm yellow lamp light and the colors of the city beyond the bistro-themed balcony.  He burns a candle on the stack of decorative books, something with tobacco and cocoa and brandy and–jasmine, maybe? He always picks candles with jasmine, so you might just be imagining the smell out of habit. 

And you, and him. The two of you so terribly settled into the domesticity of your shared lives, the air of love in every corner of the home. He appears in the kitchen in a warm breeze, reaching over your arm to grab a slice of chorizo from the tapas platter on the counter in front of you. He kisses your cheek when he does it, undoubtedly in hopes of distracting your hand from smacking his. “¿Tienes frío, mi amor?” Are you cold, my love? He peruses around the bite of food. 

“¿No porque?” No, why? You ask, pressing the back of your hand against your cheek to feel the temperature of your own skin. 

“Lando sigue y sigue sobre tener frío,” Lando is going on and on about being cold, he explains. “Estaba empezando a pensar que me estaba volviendo loco.” I was starting to think I was going crazy.

You laugh. If anything but temperate, you’re warm, working around the kitchen perfectly plating a platter for your friends and family to snack on. “Bueno, creo que Lando ha perdido la cabeza,” Well, I think Lando has lost his mind. Carlos chuckles, gives you another passing kiss as he moves behind you around the island. “¿Encontrarle una manta, sin embargo?” Find him a blanket, though? You ask. He nods through a chew, holds his thumb up as he backs out of the room—you wonder how he managed to sneak another bite of food past you. 

You appear with the tray of snacks, chorizo with ham and cheese and bread, croquetas and patatas bravas and tigres. If it’s all as good as it was when you’d tested the menu last weekend, your company won’t even realize that you and Carlos aren’t serving them an actual meal this evening. Everyone hastily moves their coasters and glasses and Carlos moves the stack of books from the coffee table to the entertainment center, hovers behind you as you set the heavy platter down just in case you need him. 

You find your seat next to Carlos on one of the sofas, know that he hates that people are eating on his new couches. He’d researched them for months–months–before finally deciding on the ones that had been delivered last month as a replacement to the ones from your old apartment. 

You notice Lando is still blanketless, still dramatically letting a shiver run up his entire body every ten minutes. “Güey,” you say, and half the room looks up from their conversation, Lando’s eyes meeting yours. “If you are cold still, get a blanket.”

“Ay yai yai, pollita, relax,” he quips back in a thick, feigned Spanish accent. Carlos snorts and you meet Lando with your middle finger, an old friend of his. When you look to your boyfriend to meet his dumb chuckle with the same fate, he’s not even paying attention to the conversation. Instead, he picks at the bottom of a shelf hung on the wall above the two of you. It holds his trophy from Silverstone, a picture of him and Caco, a small jar full of incense sticks (maybe the jasmine you smell), which he has stuck a tiny Spanish flag into, and a picture of you and he following his win. The smiles on both your faces are so horribly cheek-aching that you can almost feel the phantom soreness when you look at it. 

You watch as Lando reaches over another friend with a quiet excuse me. You can see the thought process happening behind his eyes, in his path for the blanket draped over the back of Carlos’ brand new couch. It’s like watching the world’s lowest stakes car crash. 

“Carlos,” you whisper. “Carlos, él va por la cobija,” he’s going for the blanket, you say through gritted teeth, nudging your boyfriend to deal with his friend.  He ignores you, still focused on the bottom of the shelf and the single splinter that shoots off it. “Carlos,” you say, this time with more force. 

“¿Qué?” You finally get his eyes, nodding over to Lando, who is currently unfolding the Hermés throw blanket Carlos’ mother had gifted the two of you upon signing your lease. “Ay! Cabrón! No,” he finally says, standing up from his seat and moving to take the blanket from Lando, who looks on in utter confusion as Carlos refolds the throw and moves down the hallway. 

“What the fuck?” He asks you through a meek chuckle. 

“We don’t use that blanket,” you explain, and he looks even more confused than before. 

“You… hu–what?” He laughs, with more confidence in his confusion than before. “Why is there a blanket on the couch if it can’t be used?”

You sigh, your eyes rolling behind closed lids. “It’s for decoration.”

“It’s for decoration?” You nod, just as Carlos appears from the hall again, usable blanket in tow, expensive throw likely put away in your shared bedroom. He hands it to Lando. “It’s for decoration,” the Brit teases. 

Carlos shrugs, holds his hands up in defense in the return to his seat beside you. “Rule maker,” he says, pointing to you with a thumb before shifting it to himself, “rule follower.”

You laugh, adjusting to the sink of the cushion brought on by Carlos’ weight on the couch, your fingers finding the hair at the nape of his neck without even the beginnings of a thought. Lando groans, pointing to you, “whipped,” and then to Carlos, “whipped… but more.”

“Stellar delivery there, cabrón,” you smile. “No stutter or anything.”

Carlos exhales a sharp laugh, his shoulders bouncing silently. Across the coffee table, Lando, curled up in a fluffy blanket like a toddler staying up past their bed-time to hang out with Mom and Dad’s friends, flips you off and is sure to properly enunciate his silently mouthed fuck you.

[ashbub]

wanted me

genshin impact: xiao x gn! traveler!reader

contents: mild cursing! [4.2k]

IN WHICH: feelings are discovered a little too late.

❝ i'd be with you, is it too late to pursue? ❞

Xiao often preferred to be on his own. It was far more convenient that way. No wandering attachments. No strings attached. No potential feelings hurt. Far better suited for his long-awaited life as a Yaksha.

His gloved fingers strayed over the pearls that adorned his neck, his touch wavering over the light tattoos that decorated his pale skin with a small sigh.

Or perhaps he had convinced himself over the passing years that he desired it to be that way. The lines of that lingering want have long been blurred amongst the blood that tainted his fingertips.

He quietly stood by the firm balcony railing of Wangshu Inn, the cool winds smoothly tickling his cheeks as his golden eyes remained focused on the twinkling lights of the Lantern Rite Festival. Whether he liked to admit it or not, the yearly festival was a slight comfort that warmly glimmered through the dark Liyue sky.

"Xiao?"

Of course, you had proven to be the exception when it came to desiring a company. 

The soft blue fabric of your ruffled kimono hugged your frame as you tentatively lingered by the rounded entrance, the delicate embroidery swirling into fluffy clouds that stitched around your waist. Lowering your softening eyes, they faintly reflected the wandering lanterns that playfully danced in the crisp air. 

You looked lovely. Xiao could never deny it.

"You always seem to know where to find me, Traveler." Xiao tapped his slim fingertips on the smoothness of the railing, his quiet breath mingling as the soft winds playfully brushed past the ends of his choppy locks. "Whether I like it or not."

You softly smiled, walking behind him with your warm fingers intertwined shyly behind your back with a teasing laugh of your own, "Hardly a challenge-" 

Your eyes lingered on the small platter that rested in front of Xiao on the edge of the railing- A pretty white plate with a generous portion of sliced tofu placed in the middle of the surface, small flowers elegantly decorating the edge of the food. It was homemade, slightly dropping at the sides.

"Almond tofu, huh." You murmured with a content sigh as he quietly handed you a wooden spoon, his firm gaze remaining focused ahead. "Is that for me?"

Xiao's delicate hands wandered toward the back of his heated neck at the sudden question, "I accidentally purchased an extra at one of the local stands." He clarified at your suggestion, scooping up some of the tofu to the edge of his pursed lips. "It would have gone to waste if I hadn't given it to you."

You let out a muffled chuckle, quickly gathering the almond tofu on the edge of your spoon before promptly shoving it into your mouth. You had tried plenty of Liyue cuisine from Xiangling during your visits to her kitchen, her excitement to have you try her visionary platters infectious- However, the tofu was soft and slightly sweet on the tip of your tongue, different from the previous spicier meals you had sampled.

"It's delicious!" You gasped out with the wooden spoon now remaining settled in the side of your puffed-out cheek. You turned to the young Adeptus, his golden eyes flickering with a soft brightness at your widening expression. "Are you sure you didn't make it?"

The tips of his ears grew slightly flushed at your question. Turning away from your nudging shoulder.

"Why do you say that?"

"It's a little sloppy looking, no?" 

Your teasing tone caused Xiao to snatch the ceramic plate back from your grasp with a hushed grunt, a small smile of his own that rarely tugged on the edge of his smooth lips. 

"Forgive me, next time the trash will be a proper place for an extra almond tofu." The Adeptus drawled out in the softness of the Liyue wind, the tips of his deep teal locks curling around the edge of his chin- Despite his choice of words, a warmth wrapped around his raspy voice that was damn near a laugh to your ears.

The festival night was filled with the melodious sound of traditional music played on ancient wooden instruments below. Musicians and performers walking along the cobble path brought tales to life through dance and song, while the aroma of street food vendors of matsutake meat rolls and rich rice buns wafted through the air.

Your own laugh was quiet, both of your shoulders softly brushing near one another as you stood by Xiao near the Wangshu Inn railing, admiring the scenic view that carried in front of you. Your smile slowly slipped away from your expression.

Next time.

You took a step away from him.

"Xiao-" You began with a wavering sentence, your normally firm voice slightly straining as his own softened expression finally reached your lowering eyes- "About that, I-"

"Is everything okay?"

"I plan on leaving soon in a few days, for Inazuma." 

The words hung in the air with a sudden weight, Xiao had finally turned to look at you as if your sputtered-out words hadn't fully sunk in for him. His gold eyes mingled with a warm shade of bright orange that felt like the embers of a flickering yet all-consuming fire.

The light blue garment felt heavy across your arms, the dark blue ribbon that wrapped neatly across your waist nearly tightening. "The next part of my journey calls for me to travel there, and considering the restrictions for traveling past their borders, I might not return to Liyue for a long time." You whispered out, almost to yourself as your cool fingertips began tightening on the thin railing.

"I see." 

"I thought it would be better for you to hear it from me." You quickly fidgeted for the pocket of your baby blue kimono amidst your sentence, the edge of a pearly white envelope warmly poking out from your side that you had been saving. "And I also thought we could exchange letters during my travels?"

The Yaksha glanced at the crinkled-up envelope you had directed towards his chest for him to accept, decorated with an assortment of stickers plastered across the white surface. His name was neatly written across the middle in dark ink. 

When he finally spoke, for a moment you could see his eyes softening before turning away as a gentle hand pushed the envelope from his direction back towards you silently. "You shouldn't have concerned yourself with that, [y/n]." Xiao murmured, "Focus your energy on your current obligations as I will with mine." 

"Oh."

Adjusting his lowered posture, he turned his gaze towards you and your dropped shoulders, his words reeking out with a sudden formality that you had often hoped he would never have needed to use on you. His gloved hands lingered across his stiffened arms.

 "After all, we were merely traveling companions in Liyue keeping the order and safety of this land. We have our priorities to remain vigilant on, I of all people would empathize with that."

Gripping the letter tightly in your fingertips, the words stung. Perhaps he had meant it as reassurance that it shouldn't be a hard goodbye- But merely? That was all he had accumulated in your relationship? The Yaksha already began to turn away from you, but he looked back for a moment at the sound of your cracking voice.

"That's not true, Xiao-" You cut yourself off in mid-thought, your right hand coming up to desperately to pinch at the bridge of your wrinkled nose and your eyes squeezing shut tight. "Of course, I have other things currently going on in my life, but the reason I suggested the letters was because I just thought that maybe you saw me as a-"

"Saw you as what, [y/n]?" Xiao heard himself ask in a soft sigh, voice flinty with barely concealed resentment, golden eyes flickering.

You snapped in frustration, then continued quickly before there could be a reply.

"A friend, Xiao, I thought of you as a friend." 

You raised the thick sleeve of your kimono to the end of your watering eyes at your faltering voice, the fabric warm against your skin. You tried looking everywhere but him. It felt embarrassing to cry all of a sudden. The Lantern Festival Rite lights didn't seem as bright.

"And it's pretty upsetting-" You managed out quietly with a rasp, the lingering taste of almond tofu stale on your tongue. "That you didn't even think the same towards me."

Tears blindly stung your eyes when you finally met up to reach his gaze, the words you needed to speak lodged painfully in your burning throat as you waited patiently for him to respond. It was too big, too scary, your heart was beating so fast in your chest that you thought it might break.

His expression had been searching for something incommunicable before noticing your tears in sudden realization. His feathery eyebrows carefully raised as his smooth hand reached for the edge of your shoulder in worry.

"[y/n], please wait-" Xiao began pleadingly, his pale cheeks softly flushing before trying to gather your attention, "My intention wasn't to-"

But you had already slipped away from him- Brushing his hand away quickly at his sudden touch with a curled-up bottom lip.

"Save it, Adeptus Xiao."

"A friend, Xiao. I thought of you as a friend."

It was a simple sentence- Yet it burned through him with the way you had said it. Your eyes faintly brimmed with tears along your lowered lashes, the small smile that had lingered across your lips from your conversation before falling when you had finally looked at him.

You looked pained.

He didn't mean to hurt you. That truly hadn't been his intention, watching as the soft light of lanterns trails faintly illuminating the tear stains that lingered down your cheeks. He had wondered if the thousands of years had chipped away at his communication in general. For the moment he had suggested that you were just traveling companions when he knew that he clearly must feel more than just that- 

The soft, silver moonlight bathed the landscape of Bishui Plain, casting a gentle glow over the tall, swaying grass that accompanied his every step. The grass, kissed by a slight breeze, rustled like a bard's lullaby, creating a soothing melody that harmonizes with the occasional chirping of a wandering golden finch.

His gaze had wandered by a nearby stream that trickled softly by his feet, the gentle ripples of local fish humming by the shimmering pebbles amongst the fresh water. The yaksha had caught his appearance in the reflection momentarily. The mask he wore was intricately adorned with a harsh expression and aggressive long fangs.

Adeptus Xiao. You had called him.

You had never referred to him that way.

However, that's what happens, isn't it? His whole thing about avoiding attachments? To remain at a distance to protect others- It just hurts everyone involved if he got close to people after all he had committed, eventually. He had acted foolishly in allowing his feelings to fester.

His feelings for you. When did they get so complicated?-

Dark shadows had begun to take form near the edge of his feet among the reflection of the waters, and from the depths of the field, their distorted shadows illuminated by the pale moonlight. An eerie laughter filled the Liyue air as Xiao's stance harshly shifted to gather their location hidden amongst the swaying tall grass, echoing through the otherwise tranquil landscape. The shrill laughter was unique in the crisp air, echoing through his perked ears.

An abyss mage. He concluded to himself. A few of them.

The handle of his jade spear felt cool against his touch as it materialized with the palm of his gloved hand, grasping at the smoothness of the dark stone that began illuminating quietly. The jingle of his ameno gnosis that remained tethered to the side of his waist obediently churned at the sudden gust of wind that invoked around his gleaming weapon.

He needed to clear his mind.

"You are finally awake, hm?"

Xiao felt the damp fabric of a rag rest across the warmth of his forehead, the soft crackle of the fireplace illuminating the empty kitchen. His eyes fluttered open slowly at the question, his dark lashes framing his pale golden eyes as he quietly placed his fingertips on the sudden dryness of his cracked lips.

He had been resting his back on a thin mattress on the polished wooden floor, a thick lavender wool blanket brought to his rising chest carefully. A stone pot quietly emits a faint swirling smoke from the rustle of the fire. The kitchen that was usually rumbling with the staff of Wangshu Inn to feed the patrons of the hotel in the mornings was quiet, the small shelves stocked with woven baskets filled with a fresh array of picked sweet carrots and radishes.

His light eyes finally flickered to your figure crouched by the fireplace, the side of your focused face softly lit by the crackling fire as your fingertips were wrapped around the slow-stirring wooden spoon within the warmth of the kitchen. Your lips carefully pursed while blowing away the thick steam that lingered by the edge of the spoon, your metal sword shimmering contently by the side of your waist that glistened with splatters of dark blood.

"You are a real pain in the ass, did you know that?” You continued with a small hum, remaining focused on the dance of the flickering flames and taming the bubbling cauldron. The Adeptus had attempted to rise with both of his arms to support his weight with a quiet wince, his ribs wrapped firmly with pale bandages that engulfed the soft tattoos that adorned his pale skin. “The very least you could do is try not to bleed out on my blanket Qi Qi gifted me."

He brought his gloved fingers to brush past the locks of his dark hair from his damp forehead, his faintly cut lips slightly curled at the sudden burning that flowed at the side of his chest.

 Those mages should have been easy- What was he doing? His mind had clearly been elsewhere to be so distracted-

"Here, drink this." Your voice was softer compared to the sternness of previous interactions, examining the dark patterns of your slippers with a small whisper. You had extended a small wooden cup to his grasp, a bitter scent swirling from the lingering steam. "All of it, even if it's gross, will help with the pain."

Your eyes were warm from the light flicker of the fireplace, glimmering contently. The soft blue fabric of your garments now trickled with fading stains of blood that appeared to have been scrubbed out in exasperation. A few locks of your hair were messily scattered across your forehead as Xiao brought his lips to the rim of the cup, his feathery eyebrows slightly scrunched together at the sour taste.

The fire had begun to seep into a soft flicker, the earthy stones that adorned with cast-iron pots and pans, bearing evidence of countless meals prepared with care. The fire within the hearth casts a comforting, orange-hued glow across the room, illuminating the worn copper cookware that dangles from the overhead beams as you quietly remove the wet rag from Xiao’s skin. Your fingertips warmly brushed against his pale skin with a small sigh flowing past his lips. You were tempted to touch the dark diamond that remained etched on his forehead.

“How did you find me?” He finally asked after taking another sip of the bitter drink that remained warmly in his grasp, his voice slightly raspy as a quaint smile tugged the ends of your smooth lips.

“You weren’t too far away from the Inn, it wasn’t hard to notice the Conqueror of Demons getting tossed around like a ragdoll.”

The night outside was quiet and contemplative, the moonlight pouring through the windows, creating pools of ethereal radiance that seemed to beckon you closer to the warmth of the fire. The golden eyes that rivaled the glimmer of the ancient coins that cluttered in the pocket of your kimono, often framed by long, dark lashes fluttered shut.

"I'm sorry." His voice was soft towards you, lowering his face into the palm of his hand quietly. "I really am, [y/n]."

You examined the cup that remained in his grasp, the dark green drink remaining halfway full. The quiet flickers of moonlight mingled with the edge of dark blue strands of his hair that curled beneath his chin.

"Just finish this up, silly." 

After an hour, the lingering smoke of the fire had smothered against the burnt pieces of coal that remained at the bottom of the fireplace. Xiao had remained quietly tucked into the warmth of the blanket asleep, his bandaged chest rising and falling with a light rhythm. You rarely saw the Adeptus look so exhausted.

Gathering up your things into the pockets of your leather satchel, you turned to examine him once more. The wispy fluttering of his lashes, the soft flush of freckles that decorated the tip of his slim nose. Your voice barely came out from the depths of your throat. "I'm sorry, Xiao, I should have listened to you when you were trying to apologize." You managed out, your smooth hands tightly clutching the side of your satchel with a sigh. "I was just hurt." 

You hesitantly placed a hand warmly on the side of his pale cheek, cupping his sleepy expression into the palm of your hand. "Please get better, okay?" You mumbled almost to yourself, the back of your thumb contently running circles over his cool cheek for a moment. "Out of everyone, I would be sad to not see your face when I leave."

You pulled your hand away, a soft smile mingling in your breath to raise back to your feet before feeling the gentle grasp of fingertips reach for your lingering touch.

 Xiao's voice was soft, a whisper that was loud enough to yell in such a silent room. It doesn't grate on your ears, you don't think it grates on his, either. The confirmation does little to make you move suddenly, though. His small hand pulls you back to the flushed warmth of his cheek. His touch nearly aching to press his skin to the place where your hand was. 

"Please," 

Your eyes slightly widened at his grasp for your fingertips, a sudden warmth spreading across your cheeks, "Xiao?"

"Please" He repeated, golden eyes remaining on yours before quietly sinking further into the palm of your hand with a small breath, "Stay with me for a little longer." 

Your breath remained lodged in the back of your throat at the warmth of his hand wandering on your fingertips. The growing warmth across his skin causes you to softly melt into his light touch.

"Okay." You whispered, "For a little longer."

"He's gonna show up, [y/n]." Hu Tao smiles cheekily, placing a hand on your shoulder, her bright eyes shining with the soft flowers that encircled them. She had wore her classic black garments with buttons and her little hat, giving you a small poke on the side of your cheek. "I promise you he will."

It had been a few days now since you had last spoken to Xiao at Wangshu Inn. He had slipped from the window in the early morning before you could talk, leaving the thick curtains fluttering in the crisp Liyue wind. 

Now, it was the day of your departure, and Xiao was yet to be seen.

The bustling pier was a symphony of activity as the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the scene. Seagulls wheeled and cried overhead, their sharp calls mingling with the excited chatter of passengers and the clinking of cargo being loaded onto the waiting ship.

Hu Tao seemed to notice the small scrunch of your eyebrows, your shoulders slightly dropping while examining the ocean that rustled underneath the floorboards of the pier. "He's gonna be gloomy for weeks if he doesn't get the opportunity to say goodbye."

On the edge of the chaotic canvas, the ship stood like a steadfast giant, its crew working in a synchronized frenzy to prepare for the impending voyage. Ropes were tightened, crates hoisted, and sails unfurled. The captain, Beidou, a strong figure in well-worn crimson garments, barked orders with a sharp smile, and her crew scurried to execute them. The ship creaked and groaned, eager for the open sea.

Hu Tao had quickly excused herself to purchase you both some food at the local stand at the pier, her rose-tinted eyes shining brightly with a warm grin glossed across her lips.

As the salty breeze swept through the bustling dockyard, the sun hung low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over everything it touched. Amidst the clatter of cargo being loaded and sailors shouting orders, you stood on the edge, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

You wore a thick leather jacket, adorned with various trinkets collected from your past adventures, and your sturdy boots had seen their share of long journeys.

Your fingertips clutched the worn-out strap of a weathered leather satchel containing your meager belongings, a pouch full of mora, a notebook filled with sketches and notes from your travels, and a letter for the yaksha that you hadn't dared to hand to him again since the Lantern Rite Festival.

But just as you took your first step towards the gangplank, a voice called your name, rich and warm like a familiar melody, your eyes widening. You spotted the figure of a short, narrow-shouldered man approaching you toward the bustle of the crowd.

He was holding an envelope within his grasp. 

With unspoken sigh escaping your lip, you let your satchel slip from your shoulder and thud harshly against the weathered planks. Your feet carried you toward him, your breath came in short gasps. The world around you blurred as you saw only him, his small face slightly flushed and uncharacteristically out of breath.

"Xiao!" 

His eyes were bright as his dark hair glistened in the sunlight, and the warmth in his golden eyes filled you with a sense of longing and comfort. "[y/n], the letters-"

"What?"

"Please write me the letters you promised to send before." His fingertips lingered on the edge of your shoulders with a jagged breath, "Write to me every single day, I never want to miss your adventures."

As the last light of day danced on the water's surface, the ship's horn sounded again, a deep, melancholic note that signaled its imminent departure. Families hugged their loved ones, tears and laughter intermingling in their farewells. Vendors hawking their wares from colorful stalls, the scent of fresh seafood and roasted nuts wafting through the air. The constant hum of voices, footsteps, and the occasional blast of a ship's horn filled the atmosphere. Passengers and crew alike rushed on board, the anticipation of adventure and the promise of distant shores lighting up their eyes. 

"I wrote you one, to get us started." His envelope was simple, your name written in delicate cursive in the very middle as he softly scratched the back of his neck. "But please don't read it till after you depart from Liyue."

"I have one for you too." You quietly said, digging for the envelope that was engulfed with stickers, "For you to read when I have left."

Amidst the chaos, the ship stood proudly, a magnificent vessel adorned with billowing sails and polished brass. The crew hustled to load supplies, secure ropes, and perform last-minute checks. Passengers bustled about, clutching tickets and baggage, eager for their adventure on the high seas.

The embrace was a gentle, lingering one. His arms wrapped warmly around your frame, holding you close clung to him as your fingers sunk into his shoulder. Your bodies pressed together, a silent reassurance as your lashes fluttered shut, Xiao's familiar scent of almonds and sea salt mixed with the hint of Qixing flowers. You buried your face into the crook of his neck with a soft sigh.

"I will miss you." 

The Adeptus stood alone on the balcony of Wangshu Inn, bathed in the soft, moonlit glow that cast a silvery sheen over Liyue. A cool, gentle breeze rustled the pages of the handwritten letter clutched tightly in their trembling hand. He hadn't opened your letter yet- Not fully, anyway, only taking a few peeks at the slight writing the poked out.

Xiao was enveloped by the gentle rustle of leaves and the fading hues of a setting sun. The air was cool, and the faint scent of jasmine lingered in the breeze. In his gloved fingertips, he tugged out the folded letter, its paper slightly crumpled from the uncertainty that had gripped them since its delivery at the pier.

As he unfolded the paper, the first few lines seemed ordinary, a recounting of shared memories and cherished moments.

A couple of sentences were scribbled out in ink. The words on the page were filled describing the stolen glances, shared laughter, and moments of silent connection that had been tinged with unspoken affection. He nearly chuckled at your comical scribbling to cut the letter short- But it was the very end of the letter that caught his attention.

"Babartos- What I'm actually trying to say is- I'm in love with you, Xiao. I want you."

He leaned against the balcony railing with a jagged breath lingering on his smooth lips, the golden tinge of his eyes crinkling at the motion of the words scribbled across the page.

The night was quiet, save for the distant hum of Liyue citizens rustling for the night, as the truth of the confession settled upon him with a warmth that flushed the ends of his ears. He gazed out into the dark expanse, realizing that the chance for love had passed, leaving them with only the echo of what might have been with a sudden tear drop staining the very edge of the paper. The letter became a cherished, painful reminder of a love that had silently, and tragically, slipped through his fingertips.

You had wanted him too?

an: i was listening to steve lacey and it just reminded me of xiao for some reason :)

[awkwardtickleetoo]

Sweet Like Maple Syrup

hi everyone!! so this fic is entirely dedicated to @mushiewrites for their birthday next week!!! everyone say happy birthday mushiiiiieeee <333

originally i was just gonna post it on his actual birthday but i got impatient and really wanted to post it early so here it is :D i hope everyone enjoys!! especially mushie bc he deserves the best birthday present ever which is obviously a cal fic, duh 🙄

again everyone with them a happy birthday and enjoy the fic!! :)

lee!dream, ler!sapnap, 5k words

--

Dream wasn’t sure how long Sapnap had been planning this, but he did know that he hadn’t been flustered that much in a long time.

It started that morning.

Dream had woken up just like any other morning– at a whopping one o’clock in the afternoon, which was the closest to morning he’d gotten all week, after being sick for the previous one and working himself to the bone to catch up on his projects after that fact– with the only difference being a text from Sapnap sitting on his phone when he nearly blinded himself with it to check the time. It wasn’t unusual for him to wake up to a text from Sapnap or George, but today’s text was out of the ordinary specifically because of the message itself.

meet me in the kitchen when you wake up ;)

Dream blinked a few times, squinting at the brightness of his phone screen, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger before reading the message over again. What could Sapnap have needed? The text was only from half an hour prior to him waking up, but if Sapnap had urgently needed something, surely he would’ve come to get him? What did he need in the kitchen, and why was there a winky face, and what was going on, and why was he so nervous to find out, and–

The sudden smell of breakfast foods wafting into his room pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked over to his cracked open door– wait, did he leave his door open? He could’ve sworn he closed it before going to bed, did Sapnap check if he was awake before texting him?– as the smell grew stronger. Dream took in a long inhale, humming softly at the incredible smell, before groaning as he pushed himself off the bed to stand up. He pushed his arms above his head, arching his back and groaning again as he stretched his sleepy, sluggish body out, before ruffling his own hair and stomping his way down to the kitchen to see what the fuss was about.

The sight he was met with when he made it there was… way, way more than what he was expecting, if he was being honest.

On the kitchen island, there were placesets made for two people, set in front of the barstools, behind various plates and platters with more food than Dream could conjure up in his mind on a good day.

There were two separate plates of pancakes, what looked like multiple different flavors, two stacks to a plate with each stack being five pancakes high. Next to that, a platter– Dream recognized it by the snowflake details on the edges as the Christmas themed one his mom had given him when they moved into their permanent home– with eggs on it, some scrambled and some sunny side up. A third plate, a completely different color and size to the rest, this one being smaller and blue, more flat than the other white ceramic ones, was piled high with crispy, wonderful smelling bacon. Finally, there were two small bowls, one being clear glass and the other being a slightly bigger white ceramic one with blue stripes on it, both filled with an assortment of fruit, tossed together to make a beautiful display of shapes and colors. Between the dishes were various condiments and additional toppings; ketchup, maple syrup in a glass bottle that Dream had never seen before, extra chocolate chips, whipped cream, and even a jar of bright red cherries.

And, behind all of the mountains of breakfast foods, standing in front of the stove as another batch of bacon sizzled in a pan and the fan above it whirred loudly, was none other than Sapnap himself. Dream watched silently as Sapnap turned off the burner, pushing the pan of bacon over to the side while he wiped his hands on the kitchen towel.

To say Dream was in awe would be the understatement of the year.

“Woah…” Dream spoke, mostly to himself, voice scratchy and still thick with sleep. Sapnap whipped his head around at the sound, smiling widely as soon as he saw the older man in front of him in the doorway of the kitchen, all ruffled bed hair and loose t-shirt and pajama pants and bare feet.

“Hey!” He said happily, wiping his hand one final time before making his way over to where Dream was standing.

“What…” Dream said again, glancing between his friend and the food, making eye contact once Sapnap got closer, smelling of smoke and bacon and sweet pancake batter. “Wh… Holy shit, Sap…”

“G’morning, cutie,” Sapnap replied through his giddy smile, resting his hands on Dream’s shoulders, standing up on his toes in his socks to place a gentle kiss on Dream's cheek. Dream felt the heat rise to his face, subtly overwhelmed by the sudden affection and bewilderment just minutes after getting out of bed, and he stared with wide eyes at Sapnap as he pulled back. He blinked rapidly, his mouth open just slightly in his shocked state, but Sapnap paid his confusion no mind, continuing to speak as if everything was normal. “Hope you’re hungry! There’s plenty of stuff to go around, so take anything and everything you want. Didn’t wanna have too little,” He finished with a pat to Dream’s shoulder, his hands sliding down his arms until he was able to hold onto one of Dream’s hands. “C’mon, cute thing. Let’s get goin’ before anything gets cold.”

“Sapnap…” Dream muttered, tilting his head to the side and looking down at his best friend adoringly.

“Yes, my baby boy?” Sapnap replied, mirroring Dream’s head tilt and smiling up at him in a way that made Dream’s tummy flutter.

“What the fuck…” He asked, exasperated already, shaking his head while a fond smile pulled at his lips.

“What do you mean? I can't make a gourmet breakfast for my favorite puppy just ‘cause I want to?” Sapnap explained, voice innocent and excited, but his choice of words and the smug look on his face when Dream let out the smallest gasp at them told Dream he wasn’t as innocent as he seemed.

“Oh, Sap, don’t do that,” Dream complained, shaking his head again, looking down at his bare feet against the cold tile as he felt himself flush further.

Sapnap smiled, reaching one hand over to suddenly scratch at his tummy, making Dream squeal and jump back, only to be stopped by Sapnap’s hold on his arm that he used to pull him back.

“Sapnap!” Dream yelped, pressing his palm to his tummy to keep the area safe. “Don’t– don’t do that, that’s not– that’s not–“ Dream stammered, the blush on his face and the butterflies in his tummy so strong he couldn’t even attempt to finish his sentence. Sapnap only giggled, placing another kiss on his cheek before tugging him by the arm towards the barstools.

“C’mon. Sit,” He commanded gently, patting the seat of the stool for Dream to take– which, unsurprisingly, he did– while he grabbed the spatula to serve Dream his food. Dream went to reach for his own plate at first, but Sapnap snatched it up quickly before he could grab it.

“Sapnap,” Dream rolled his eyes playfully, though he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

“What looks good, Dreamie?”

“I can do it myself.”

“No, you can’t,” Sapnap replied, using the spatula to point to the stacks of pancakes. “Blueberry, chocolate chip, or plain?”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Dream said, though his chest was still blooming with warmth, his heart skipping a beat every time he glanced around and saw everything that Sapnap had done, just for him. When he looked back up at Sapnap, the younger man simply gestured at the food again, waiting for Dream to just give in and accept his fate. Dream’s eyes softened, and he curled in on himself slightly, clasping his hands together in his lap and twisting the ring on his pointer finger nervously. “Blueberry.”

“Of course,” Sapnap obliged, sliding three blueberry pancakes onto Dream’s plate, carefully keeping them to one side. He gestured to the eggs next. “Scrambled?” He asked, and Dream nodded shyly. “Perfect. Bacon too?” Sapnap asked as he shoveled a small pile of scrambled eggs onto the plate, before gesturing to the bacon with the tip of the spatula as well. Dream nodded again, his smile widening.

“Yes, please,” He replied quietly, watching Sapnap finish off his plate with a few strips of bacon and carefully place it back in front of him. “Holy shit, man,” Dream muttered, still very much in awe of everything happening.

“There you go, pretty boy. You can help yourself to any toppings or fruit if you’d like some, that part’s all you, so… enjoy!” Sapnap said with a frankly adorable smile, grabbing his own empty plate and piling it high with food as well.

“Sap, I…” Dream began. “I just– I don’t… I don’t know what any of this is about, but… tha– thank you for… literally all of this,” He finished, looking over at Sapnap as he closed the refrigerator after grabbing the carton of orange juice. He looked over at Dream, smiling kindly as he poured two glasses and placed one in front of both of their finished plates, before moving over to stand next to Dream, catching his eyes as the elder stared up at him.

“Aw, baby doll,” Sapnap cooed, his subtle Texan accent lending itself to the phrase, enough to make Dream’s eyebrows furrow and his lips form into the tiniest pout. He cupped Dream’s face gently, rubbing his thumbs under his still sleepy eyes. He moved one hand under his chin, gently tilting his head up further. “You’re so welcome. I just wanted to do something nice for you, sweetheart. Only the nicest stuff for my best puppy, right?”

“Ugh, Sapnap,” Dream whined, and suddenly he surged forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Sapnap’s waist, hugging him so close and so tight it would have knocked him over if he didn’t grab onto Dream’s shoulders to brace himself.

“Oh– Dream! Holy shit,” Sapnap said through a shocked laugh, steadying himself and hugging Dream back. “Okay, okay, easy, puppy. Relax.”

“Sorry,” Dream replied bashfully, loosening his grip slightly but still leaving his arms around Sapnap’s waist, looking up at him adoringly.

“No! No, don’t be sorry at all, I love it when you get all touchy like that. It’s really cute,” Sapnap replied, running his fingers through Dream’s untamed curls, in an attempt to fix them from where they were still messy from sleep. Dream giggled, pressing his temple against Sapnap’s ribs, as Sapnap rubbed a hand up and down his back.

“Shut up, you’re such an idiot,” Dream replied, making Sapnap giggle.

“Yeah, but you love it. Okay, we actually have to eat now or the food is gonna be cold and taste like ass, so…” Sapnap pointed out, letting his hands slip down to Dream's sides, squeezing twice before quickly pulling back, leaving Dream reeling.

“HEY–“ He yelped with a flinch, tensing his arms to his sides and watching Sapnap with a slack jaw as he sat down and began pouring syrup on his pancakes like nothing happened. Dream scoffed, reaching for his glass of orange juice to take a sip. “You’re insane.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Eat your breakfast,” Sapnap replied nonchalantly, but the smug smirk stayed strong on his face as he did so.

They finished eating a while later, finishing just barely over half the food between the two of them and at least a glass and a half of juice each.

If Dream were to claim the rest of the meal was uneventful, that would be the second understatement of the year.

There were several times throughout the meal, more than Dream could think about counting without getting flustered beyond belief, where Sapnap’s devious fingers found themselves gravitating towards Dream’s body. Countless times, he would squeeze above Dream’s knee and over the tops of his thigh, moving down to his inner thigh with tiny pinches every so often, the poor boy barely protected by the thin pajama pants he wore. Sapnap would spider his fingers over his kneecap, squeeze above his hip bone, poke at his side and claw at his ribs, and he even went as far as to shoot his hand towards Dream’s tummy, though he didn’t actually tickle there just yet.

Dream jumped every time, flinching wildly, kicking his leg out and hiking his knee up. He curled his toes, dropping his fork each time with a clatter against the plate in favor of grabbing and pushing at Sapnap’s wrists, twisting his torso away, whining at him to ‘stooooop, Sapnap, stop it, that’s not fair!’ each time he attacked– a request Sapnap obviously never obliged.

Dream felt like he’d been sent to purgatory, doomed to sit on edge next to Sapnap for the rest of eternity, waiting and waiting for the next tickle attack, never sure when it would happen or where Sapnap would target.

Or maybe he’d been sent to heaven. That was more accurate. But he’d never tell Sapnap that, not in a million years.

By the time all the empty dishes were in the sink and Sapnap had begun placing the leftover food in containers to be finished at a later time, Dream was, understandably, extremely nervous. His cheeks still felt burning hot, his fingers returned to twisting his rings around them, his knee bounced up and down from where he stayed seated at the barstool after Sapnap had scolded him and smacked the back of his knuckles with a plastic tupperware lid when he tried to help him clean up, telling him ‘down, puppy, I’ll get everything put away, don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours’ firmly enough that it made him giggle from the fluttering of butterflies in his tummy. He watched Sapnap work, trying his hardest to cool down his flushed face, but he learned the hard way that it was nearly pointless to try.

“Sapnap?” Dream began softly, as Sapnap opened the fridge and stacked all the leftovers inside.

“Yes, handsome?” Sapnap responded, smiling as Dream’s smile turned bashful once again and he squirmed in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and biting his lip. “What’s up?” He prompted, placing the condiments in the door of the refrigerator before closing it, finishing the clean up of the kitchen.

“Can you… Can I like… Can I ask what– what all of this is for?” Dream stuttered out, confusion still evident on his face. Sapnap chuckled at his hesitation, walking over and standing in front of him again, carding his fingers through his hair once more.

“Sure, you can ask that,” Sapnap replied with a nod, but silence is all that followed, Dream waiting for Sapnap to elaborate and Sapnap doing nothing of the sort. Dream’s eyebrows furrowed again, more confused than ever, before he broke the silence himself instead.

“So… wh-what is… what is it for, then?” He asked slowly, and the hand in his hair then became two, cupping the back of his neck and scratching the back of his hair there. His shoulders dropped instantly, his body melting into the soft touch as he hummed softly at the feeling. Sapnap laughed once again at his stuttered question, pausing before he responded, in a way that still did not answer Dream’s question.

“You’ll find out soon enough…”

“Sap, what–”

“C’mon…” Sapnap cut him off, taking a step back and reaching down to uncross the taller boy’s arms. Dream let his arms slip apart, smiling as Sapnap grabbed his hands and pulled him to stand up. “You need anything before we go? Water, bathroom break, anything like that?”

“No, I don’t think so, but I don’t even know what we’re–”

“Good answer,” Sapnap cut him off once more, before turning towards the stairs and leading Dream up to his own bedroom. Dream chuckled as he was pulled along, and then once again when they made it to Sapnap’s room and the younger boy dropped Dream’s hand to hold the door open for him.

“After you, pretty boy,” Sapnap said as he gestured for Dream to follow him in, making Dream shake his head fondly as he did so.

“You’re such an idiot,” Dream spoke through a wide smile, and he heard the door close behind him before Sapnap’s hand was in his again.

“Right you are, baby,” Sapnap replied with a poke to Dream’s cheek, and Dream’s lips pressed together through his smile as the bright blush quickly returned to his face, even worse than before. “Alright, c’mere,” Sapnap continued, guiding Dream over to his freshly made bed and turning him to face away from it.

“Sapnap,” Dream replied, his nerves setting in again. He still felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach, his chest tight and tingling, something in it making him feel giddy, like sparks of electricity were stinging underneath his skin wherever Sapnap’s hands trails over while guiding him back.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just relax,” Sapnap said softly, stopping barely a foot away from the bed and looking up at Dream with a devious glint in his eyes.

Then, suddenly, there was a shove against his chest and a foot behind his knees, knocking him down and pushing him backwards onto the mattress, and Sapnap was kneeling above him just as suddenly, knees on either side of Dream’s hips but not sinking down to straddle him just yet.

“WH–“ Dream yelped, bracing his palms on the bed, trying to push himself away, but Sapnap landed a hand on his chest. He didn’t push him down, didn’t grab his shirt, still didn’t sit on his hips, he just pressed his palm to Dream’s chest and smiled when Dream looked up at him with a shocked expression. “Sap– Sapnap, what is–”

“Listen, puppy,” He began, and Dream couldn’t stop the whimper he let out, always sensitive to that name, especially when Sapnap would say it in moments like this. “Just relax, okay? This isn’t for anything or because of anything, You didn’t do anything wrong or anything to warrant this. I’m just really in the mood to tickle you today.”

“Wh-what? Sapnap, you– that’s not–” Dream tried to argue, shuffling slightly to lay more comfortably against the bed, dropping down from his palms to his elbows, Sapnap’s hand staying on his chest as he moved.

“Shhh,” Sapnap soothed, pressing his finger to his lips as he did so. “I just want to, alright? Thank you so much for letting me pamper you and take care of you and make you all sweet and pliant for me.”

“I’m not plia–!” Dream tried to argue, but then Sapnap’s finger was pressed to his lips just the same, cutting off his words as he shushed him once again.

“It’s okay, Dreamie,” Sapnap spoke, reaching behind him and pushing Dream’s legs to make sure they were flat, before dropping down to sit on his thighs. He then reached forward to tap Dream’s elbows, hinting at him to lower them to lay down flat. When Dream whined and shook his head, pulling them closer to his body and pushing himself up higher, Sapnap retaliated by harshly digging his fingers into his ribcage.

“NO!” Dream yelped, arching his back and immediately falling down against the bed and shoving at Sapnap’s arms, exactly as Sapnap expected him to. Sapnap pulled his hands away, pressing both palms to Dream’s chest to keep him laying down as Dream wrapped his arms around his torso to protect himself from another attack.

“Okay?” Sapnap asked, raising his eyebrows at Dream. Dream knew the okay meant multiple things– an okay as in ‘you’re gonna listen to me now, right?’ An okay as in ‘is this okay with you?’ An okay as in ‘this is the plan, got it?’– and Dream knew his answer to all of those was okay, yes, confident enough to nod his head in response.

“Okay,” Dream muttered, unable to stop either the blush and the smile on his face from growing, and he settled himself back against Sapnap’s bed, the cool pillow under his head soothing him even as he brought his hands up to cover his blushing face, letting out a muffled whine as he relaxed into the blankets below him.

“You comfy, darlin’?” Sapnap asked, letting Dream adjust himself however he needed in case he wasn’t. Dream whimpered at the question, shifting his shoulders a few times before nodding in acknowledgment. “Good. I’m glad,” Sapnap said with a smile, before lightly taking the hem of Dream’s t-shirt between his fingers and pushing it up to reveal his tummy. Dream gasped, shooting his hands down to cover the newly exposed skin, pulling his shirt back down.

“Oh, nohoho!” He replied, giggling nervously, pressing one palm to his stomach and covering his mouth with the other to hide his giggles, shaking his head quickly.

“No, c’mon, Dreamie. Let me do it.”

“I cahan’t!” Dream said through a whine, pressing his hand in harder when Sapnap tried to push his shirt up again anyway. “Noho! Sap, plehehease!”

“C’mon, puppy. I wanna get your tummy, don’t you want me to?” Sapnap asked, letting his voice drop off to a soft tone, making it nearly impossible for Dream to deny the accusation. Instead, he threw his arms over his face to hide in them again, kicking his legs uselessly behind Sapnap, but otherwise doing nothing to stop the smaller boy from tugging his shirt again, bunching it up around his ribs so his whole torso was on display. “There we go, there’s my good boy, thank you, Dreamie.” Dream whined again, dropping one arm to wrap around himself again, sliding from his ribs to press his fingertips into the soft skin of his lower tummy, curling them lightly around the waistband of his pajama pants, before swinging back up over his face once again. “Aww, poor thing. You must be so nervous, huh?” Sapnap cooed, resting his hands on Dream’s sides and gently rubbing his warm skin with his thumbs. Dream whimpered and nodded, his tummy jumping at the movement of hands against it.

“Just–” Dream mumbled, moving his arms away from his face so his voice could be heard. “Be nice, please?”

“Aw, puppy,” Sapnap cooed, sticking out his bottom lip, making Dream cover his face again. Sapnap pressed his palm against Dream’s stomach, rubbing his thumb there as well and making him let out a small squeak as he tried to suck his tummy in on instinct. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be so gentle with you. So, so gently, my sweet boy,” Sapnap promised, and before Dream could respond to him, he used both hands to gently drag his pointer fingers up and down Dream’s sides. Dream gasped, his hands jumping down to bat at Sapnap’s, trying to push the offending fingers away, but Sapnap only swatted him back and kept up his tracing. “See? Gentle. Nothing to worry about, right?”

“Mmmm…” Dream hummed, not exactly reassured by Sapnap’s comfort, but curling his hands into fists and restraining himself from fighting back regardless. Sapnap decided to push slightly further, gently tugging the waistband of Dream’s pajama pants down a couple of inches to reveal the jutting bones of his hips and the line of sensitive skin between them. “Oh god, Sahahapnahap!” Dream whined, moving his hands over and uncurling them to cover the exposed area. Sapnap gently pushed them away again, pressing them down against the bed with his fingertips and watching as Dream gripped the comforter tightly in his fists to stop himself from interfering with the tickles.

“Oh, perfect, Dream, stay just like that,” Sapnap praised, and then brought back his two pointer fingers, tracing gently around Dream’s upper tummy, over his sternum between his ribs and over the fronts of them as well. Dream squealed, sucking his stomach in and half-arching at the feeling, immediately lost in helpless giggles at the feeling. “There we go, puppy, that’s good, right?”

“Ihihi hahahate thihihis…” Dream whined out, his fingers flexing and stretching out as Sapnap moved to the sides of his tummy, jerking towards him to attempt to stop him before he controlled them again and brought them back down by his sides. He squirmed as much as he could, shaking his head, squeezing his fists against the blanket, shifting his shoulders constantly, kicking his legs out, anything to help him deal with the unbearable tingly feeling, but nothing seemed to work. He was still lost in the sensation, unable to focus on anything but how much it tickled. “This suhucks sohoho bahad…”

“Nooooo, it’s okay, you love this! You love your tummy tickles!” Sapnap stated, a fact they both knew, but one that made Dream whine and squeeze his eyes shut even harder anyway. “You’re so cute, Dreamie, I just can’t get over how adorable you are.”

“Wh– shuhuhut uhup!” Dream protested, throwing his head to the side and trying to lean as far into the gap between Sapnap’s pillow as he could get. “Dohon’t say thahahat!”

“I can’t help it!” Sapnap said in his own defense, smiling when his tracing fingers swirled around to Dream’s lower tummy and made him gasp and bite his lip before he returned back to the sides of it, adding a second finger with each hand now. After a few seconds, he switched to his whole hand, forming it into a claw shape but not using it for that motion just yet, instead just dragging his nails over Dream’s incredibly sensitive skin. Dream let out a squeak, embarrassing enough that he attempted to clamp his lips shut and let out soft whimpers instead of his bright giggles. “Hey! Don’t do that, let me hear you laugh!” He protested, using his claw shaped hands for their intended purpose twice over Dream’s sides just to make him open his mouth again.

“AH– Sahahap!” Dream yelled out with his sudden burst of laughter, pushing further into the pillow, falling back into his high pitched, breathy giggles when Sapnap returned to his tracing.

“Thank you, beautiful…” Sapnap began, earning a groan from Dream. “You really are like a puppy, aren’t you, darlin’?”

“Nohohoho!” Dream whined out, but Sapnap knew damn well that Dream was aware it was true. Sapnap giggled at Dream’s protest, pushing further, backing Dream into a corner.

“No? Gentle tummy tickles always get you all melty like one, though, don’t they?” Sapnap asked softly, his voice fond, and Dream whimpered and shook his head.

“Thahahat– that’s nohot truhuhue! I’m nohohot!”

“Okay, so I should stop calling you puppy, then? If you’re so adamant that it’s not true…” Sapnap smiled at Dreams silence, followed by his fluttery giggles, as he leaned his head back against the pillow as it lolled to the side, a dopey smile on his face. He swallowed against his laughter, attempting to start speaking, before falling back into his giggles and squeezing his eyes shut. “Huh, baby? What’s that?”

“Mm–” Dream whimpered again, flexing his fingers against the comforter and tightening his fists, loosely hitting them against the bed below him to expel the flusteredness that prevented him from answering. “Sahap…”

“It’s okay, you little goober,” Sapnap said, quickly bringing one hand up to ruffle Dream’s still messy hair before continuing his gentle tracing with it, making Dream’s giggles brighten happily as he squirmed under the affection. “I know you love being my sweet puppy, don’t you?”

“Shuhuhut uhuhup!” Dream whined into the soft material of the pillow as he returned to his hiding place, jumping and squealing suddenly when Sapnap hit a particularly sensitive spot on his tummy, barely a few inches to the right of the little dip in the middle of it. Sapnap giggled at him, using his other hand to cup Dream’s side gently and using two fingers to scratch at that spot mercilessly. Dream squealed again, much louder now, curling the other way against Sapnap’s hand on his side and trying desperately to get away from the offending two fingers. In response, Sapnap squeezed his side once, making him jump back the other way, repeating the agonizing cycle. “Nahahaha– plehehehease! Sahahapnahahap! I cahahahan’t–!”

“Awww, my poor puppy,” Sapnap cooed through a pout, giggling when Dream whimpered and pouted up at him too, before getting lost in laughter again. “Does it tickle, baby?”

“Mhm!” Dream agreed through his laughter, nodding his head quickly, squirming as much as he could in his pinned position.

“Yeah, I’m sure it does, sweetheart,” Sapnap said with fake sympathy, but he still decided to stop both techniques for the sake of keeping the tickles bearable.

Well, kind of. Until he thought of a new idea.

He shifted his hands down, returning to just his pointer fingers, and he began dragging his nails above the line of his displaced waistband between his hip bones. Dream squeaked at the change in technique, arching his back and trying to push his hips down into the bed, away from the tickles.

“Nahahaha! Sahaha– noho, plehehehease!” Dream’s voice was pleading, high pitched and whiny through his struggles. His hands smacked against the blankets, still able to hold back from pushing Sapnap away for a few more seconds. But, eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore, and his hands shot down to grab Sapnap’s wrists, struggling to pull him away with how weakened the tickles had made him. “Sahahap, plehehease, c’mohon, plehease stohohop!” He pleaded, before he was able to yank Sapnap’s hands away from him, giving him a much needed break in the tickles. “Oh my gohohohod…”

“You okay there, giggles?” Sapnap asked softly, lacing his fingers with Dream’s and rubbing the backs of his knuckles with his thumbs. Dream hummed and smiled, nodding his head up at Sapnap as he blinked his eyes open to look at him. Sapnap nearly teared up at the relaxed expression on Dream’s face– the calm smile that overtook his lips, the fond look in his eyes when they made eye contact, the way his head tilted back and sideways into the pillow as he laid there, content and smiley and letting Sapnap play with his fingers and rub his knuckles. “Aww, my puppy, you’re so sweet.” Dream giggled at the compliment, his nose scrunching up with his laugh and only making Sapnap feel more warmth in his chest. He looked so cute, Sapnap almost wanted to squeeze his face, pinch his cheeks, bite his nose, anything to get the cute aggression out of his system.

Conveniently, he remembered Dream was still pinned underneath him.

So, he pulled his hands away and suddenly latched them onto Dream’s hips, squeezing the spot just above the bones and digging his thumbs into the spot just inside them. Dream broke out into loud laughter, kicking and squirming and thrashing underneath him, grabbing onto his wrists to try to pull his hands off and rid himself of the excruciating feeling.

“SAHAHAP?!” Dream yelled out, his fingers continuously slipping off Sapnap’s wrists and having to readjust their grip, even as Sapnap’s hands remained unwavering in their movements. To be even meaner, Sapnap took in a deep breath, then leaned down and blew a long raspberry over the same ticklish spot to the right of his belly button, making Dream’s laughter grow even louder, much more shrill and raspy now. “WHAHAHA– NOHOHO, PLEHEHEASE!” Dream’s pleading fell on deaf ears, even when he moved his hands to push desperately at Sapnap’s head and shoulders and arms and knees to try and push any part of him away. He was unsuccessful at every attempt, and he had no choice but to sit through what Sapnap did until he decided he was finished, completely helpless to the devastatingly ticklish experience for as long as Sapnap deemed fit.

And if Dream tried to claim that he didn’t love every second of that day? Well…

That would be the third understatement of the year.

[pennylanewrites]

sur le fil [levi ackerman x f!reader]

chapter 2: el valse

your neighbours learn about your secret skills; cooking and painting. the latter causes some disturbance. petra makes a scene and you see what levi is actually like when he’s furious.

a/n: this one’s short but hey, flustered levi makes his appearance. the next chapter’s bigger 😏

masterpost | previous | next

you almost jumped out of bed when a loud thud echoed through the second floor. someone giggled and someone else shushed them. groaning, you slowly opened one eye to check your phone. 6:22 am.

“there goes my saturday…” you stretched and got up, pulling your flip flops from under the bed. with heavy-lidded eyes, you dragged your feet down the stairs, through the living room and into the kitchen.

“what the fuck? why are you all up?” levi was sitting down on the kitchen table, newspaper in one hand, a cigarette in the other. zoe and moblit slowly lifted their heads from the counter, looking up at you with guilt.

“i told you you’d wake her up, zoe.”

“that thud was you? i thought the ceiling fell.” you pushed the pair out of your way and looked at your coffee machine. “what did you do?”

“nothing! not yet, at least. we wanted to make coffee and levi wouldn’t help.” zoe scratched the back of her head as moblit sat her down on a chair. levi scrunched his nose and moved away from zoe.

“here.” you poured two espresso shots in shot glasses and placed them on the table. “drink these.”

“and take a shower,” levi added as zoe inspected the espresso shot, “you guys stink of gin.”

as your coffee poured, you took out an array of ingredients; flour, cheese, chocolate, eggs and more.

“breakfast is served in two hours.”

“thanks, y/n. come on, chérie.”

you were glad you took the time to fill up your share of the pantry in the week. you had loved cooking, ever since you were a kid. you always thought cooking for someone, sitting down to share the meal was one of the most intimate experiences.

you could cut the tension in the kitchen with a knife. every so often, you would peek at levi as you dusted flour off your hands, and he would shove his newspaper closer to his face. you still took it as a win; it meant he was already looking.

you were taking reference photos of the mess on the counter, the half-set breakfast table, levi’s newspaper and cigarettes, when you felt a cold hand on your waist. startled, you looked back at levi, who simply wanted you to get out of his way.

“sorry!” you squeaked out and went back to pour the pancake dough into the pan. what the fuck was that?

he chuckled. he actually chuckled as he poured a second cup of tea for himself. the shit was making fun of you.

after two long hours, you finally set the table; a platter of sliced mango and papaya, a bowl of warm pão francês with a side of butter and jam spreads, a plate of tapioca pancakes, filled with nutella. you finished the table with another plate of pão de queijo, cheese-filled heavenly balls of dough, and a ceramic jug of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

zoe and moblit entered the kitchen right on time, eyes lighting up at the assortment of food. levi excused himself, but zoe easily lifted him up and shoved him back in his chair. you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, trying -and failing- to disguise with a cough.

after explaining the brazilian-inspired recipes, everyone digged in.

“ha-ha. levi’s eating balls.” zoe giggled, shoving half a pancake in her mouth. levi shot a glare her way.

“zoe.” moblit pleaded, knowing a simple word from her could result in one of levi’s outbreaks. zoe took one of the cheese-stuffed balls, and when levi opened his mouth to speak, shoved it between his teeth.

everyone stared at him. he was trying to be serious, but it was impossible with a ball keeping his mouth half-open. you muffled a gasp with your palm and looked at your lap, the table shaking from you keeping your laughter in. now it was your turn to be stared at from the rest of the table.

when you finally composed yourself, you looked up at levi. he had already chewed the dough ball and was now, while keeping eye contact, licking his thumb and then his pointer finger tantalisingly slow. a foot found it’s way against your calf, stroking it and gradually heading north. you shoved your legs shut and looked away flustered. he had won this one.

“turn off the porn.” zoe whispered to moblit, but both you and levi caught the comment.

you and zoe were left alone in the kitchen to clean up. she was washing the dishes, you were putting away the leftovers.

“levi and petra are still together, you know,” she started and you gave her a warning look, “but i’m pretty sure it’s over.”

“okay.” you shrugged.

“he wants to have sex with you.”

“zoe!”

“what?” she continued humming a song from an infomercial. you pulled saran wrap over a half-cut mango and sighed.

“levi does not want to have sex with me. we just started getting along.”

“he was about to have sex with your leg.”

“how did you know about that?” you looked at her with horror. zoe had this weird aura around her, and she always knew what you were thinking. at times you thought maybe she was a psychic. a low, evil laugh came out of her lips as she patted her wet hands on her skirt.

“because he thought my leg was yours at first.”

you had a moment where you both stared at the floor before looking at each other and bursting out laughing.

you were struggling to carry an unfinished painting, your easel and supplies to the terrace, when levi stepped out of his bedroom, a female voice yelling behind him in french. he shut the door and leaned back on it with a sigh. he looked so tortured, with his eyes shut close and his chest moving up and down with every sharp breath, as the female screamed behind the door. you pretended not to notice him and headed up the stairs.

“you’re going to fall.” he called out and walked up to you. he was right, but you were stubborn. looking down at your painting, you grinned.

“help me then.” you gave him the canvas. the back of it wrote self portrait and levi was instantly intrigued. you climbed the stairs with levi right behind you. any moment now…

levi stumbled on the very last step, almost falling on the floor. you looked back, and he quickly turned the canvas back around, cheeks rosy and eyes shifting around the ceiling.

“thanks, ackerman.” you placed your easel down and placed the canvas on it, admiring your work. a detailed silhouette on a mattress. the rest of the background was undefined, but the portrait of your naked body was finished, and it was engraved in levi’s brain for the rest of the day.

the afternoon rush hour had gone smoothly, even with levi’s mysterious absence. your mind wandered to petra; they were obviously fighting earlier that day, and she sounded furious. you wondered if she knew about the little…whatever it was, between you and levi. you really doubted it, however; nothing was happening, just a stupid act in the moment. as if on cue, levi stepped in. you suddenly were very interested in the dainty porcelain tea cups you had on display. levi worked around you as he got ready for his shift. you both jumped away when your pinkies touched under the bar.

“you can go now.”

“i’m working for another five hours.” you were not about to lose a day’s pay just because levi didn’t want you around.

“i have this covered.”

“it’s fine, ackerman,” he glared at you at the use of his last name, “i won’t pull any self portraits from behind the fridge.” you took a step back and grinned when levi looked away.

you worked in sync for a while longer, trying not to touch one another. what was this weird tension and when did it start? if levi didn’t basically try to fuck your leg that morning, none of this would be happening; you would still be bickering and muttering curses. you would definitely not be looking at his jean-clad ass and thick thighs. what kind of sorcery was this that they looked so muscly, even under jeans?

“i’m taking my break!” you yelled behind you before leaving through the back door. levi shook his head and even contemplated slapping himself as he watched your hips swing with your step.

you were mindlessly scrolling on your phone, eating a sandwich from the deli around the corner, when you heard commotion from inside the café. you grabbed your stuff from the bench and walked back inside.

petra, despite her petite appearance, was making a scene in the middle of the café. levi had his arms crossed against his chest and was staring at her, an empty look in his eyes. you were pretty sure that made petra even angrier.

despite your broken french knowledge, you caught a few phrases; ‘emotionless’ ‘cheap bastard’.

the only words levi spoke at the girl, you understood loud and clear.

“get the fuck out.” a few tears escaped petra’s eyes and your heart broke for her. she could tell she wasn’t welcome anymore, so she gathered her bag and jacket and ran out.

zoe and moblit had a fair share of stories with levi getting mad, frustrated, furious. they all ended in someone getting punched. but no, this. this is what levi actually was like when furious. he appeared emotionless to the naked eye, but if you put him under a microscope, you could see his chest puff in and out frantically, his nostrils flare, a bead of sweat fall down the vein popping on his forehead.

levi apologised to the customers with a polite smile, looking around before his eyes fell on you. you gave him a sympathetic smile before returning to your spot inside the bar.

“take a break.” you told him, but he just shook his head no. “you can’t even make tea, your hands are trembling.”

“i’m fine.” he muttered, hissing when the mug slipped from his hand, splashing the burning liquid all over his front. he slammed the mug down, lifting his hands to his temples and massaging them as hard as he could.

“are you trying to give yourself a lobotomy?” you took his wrists in your hands and turned him around, so his back was to the customers. “let me clean this up.”

you took a damp towel and lifted it to his chest, patting down the stain on his white shirt. you trailed down to his stomach, the pads of your fingers grazing his belt. he swiftly grabbed your wrist, looking at you from behind his black hair.

“stop.” he choked out. you nodded and took a step back, eyeing him from the top to the bottom. “i-i’m going to take my break now.” levi muttered and you noticed he held his bag over his crotch as he walked to the back room.

you danced around with a giggle as you prepared the next order. this one felt a little bittersweet after petra’s outburst, but it was still a victory for you.

levi 1 - y/n 2

taglist: @belovedackerman @bibemiiu @thisisketchy @ch-4-s-3 @kingfleury (bold can’t be tagged. lmk if you changed your user!)

[designersof]

Porcelain plates inspired by the world's unique buildings and cities, now on Kickstarter.

Studio Lorier announces a new addition in their collection; the City Plate. It is a porcelain platter, shaped in the texture of a well know city and contains the main architectural landmarks. These trays can be uses for presenting food, storing items or a great addition to any interior. By running a crowd-funding campaign, Studio Lorier tries to raise enough funds via Kickstarter for a diverse collection of the most popular cities around the world. 

Each plate and landmark is handcrafted in their Rotterdam based studio. All miniature buildings are slib-cast into self made molds. The landmarks are joined as a solid connection and all is finished with a non-toxic, food safe glaze that is even dishwasher proof. 

During the crowd-funding campaign, people can support the project by funding it. Rewards vary from a set of mini landmarks, to an embossed city plate including it's architecture. You can even get a fully customized plate, made to order. Supporters can choose from a list of the most popular cities, that will expand when extra funds will be raised. During the campaign, backers have the possibility to get the city plates for the lowest price ever until December 4th 2018. 

Studio Lorier is a design firm that is based in the Netherlands. It specializes in the design and manufacturing of transformable furniture and handcrafted ceramics. Designer Sander Lorier tells: ''As our client base has grown exponentially all over the world, we wanted to create a project that celebrates all these cities, with its unique look and characteristics.'' 

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/studiolorier/city-plates-3d-porcelain-plate-of-your-favorite-ci?ref=project_link

[siempre-bucky]

canceled flights and beignets

Javy 'Coyote' Machado x Reader

Summary: His flight to spend Christmas in New Orleans gets canceled and you pick up the pieces with his favorite pastry.

wc: 761

a/n: a lil Christmas blurb I was supposed to have before Christmas :')

“All flights have been canceled due to the unexpected snowstorm.” 

Javy’s jaw clenched tightly, his brows furrowing angrily at the stout German man in the forest green suit who spoke from behind the anchor's desk. He’d already been on the phone with his mother to give her the bad news, his right ear still ringing from the frantic French yelling from the other end of the phone. 

He tied the arms of his flight suit around his waist and picked up his duffle from the cement ground. Three days till Christmas and here he was, stuck in a small town in Germany for his latest detachment. Hangman got lucky and managed to escape the storm getting out a day early—if only he were that lucky. 

The frown on his plump lips slid further and further down his face. Everything started to irritate him, from the cramped little car that didn’t fit his long legs to the snow that covered the ground. All he wanted to do was be in New Orleans, surrounded by his mother's peppermint beignets and his father's endless playlist of carols and him trying to translate in Portuguese on the spot to the kids. Ever since the announcement, he felt lonely. Christmas wasn’t going to feel the same this year. 

Snow fell off his boots as he climbed up the stairs of the apartment the government managed to house him in. The bags were packed, sitting in the doorway when he left that morning but when he opened the door they were nowhere in sight. 

His brown eyes scanned the dark apartment, the space dimly lit by the colorful lights you insisted on hanging up. He sniffed, the aromatic smell instantly warming his heart. “Cheri,” he spoke, lazily letting his duffle bag slip off his shoulder. 

There was no response, just soft Christmas music coming from the kitchen. Javy hummed to himself and quietly crossed the room, a warm smile spreading across his lips as your humming mixed with the vocals. 

Your back was turned to your husband, figurative elbows in a crimson red mixing bowl, swaying along to the old Christmas music playing from the speaker. Javy stepped further into the doorway, able to lean on the wooden beam and take in your figure dotted with colorful light coming from the Christmas lights above. 

He sniffed and his heart instantly clenched. Javy knew that smell coming from your workspace, instantly being transported to a small kitchen full of people running around, a mix of languages reverberating off the walls. "Mon cheri," he whispered, suddenly not trusting his voice. 

With a small gasp, you turned and smiled lovingly. "Welcome home," you sighed dreamily, meeting him in the middle for a tight hug. 

Javy's deep brown eyes were trained on the bowl before shifting to the powdery, golden brown beignets on a ceramic Christmas platter. His arms tightened around you, fingertips pressing into the small of your back. "When did you make these?" 

You smiled against the fabric of his black t-shirt, inhaling the scent of his cologne. "As soon as I saw the news. Got the recipe from your mom," you answered kindly, lovingly scratching his shoulder blades. He pulled away to press his lips to the side of your head and reached behind to grab one of the warm pastries. 

Still warm to the touch, he brought it to his lips cautiously with his eyes lingering low. But as soon as the beignet touched his taste buds, watery brown eyes flashed upward. He spoke your name with beautiful softness, ready to break at any moment. You reached forward and cupped his face, thumb swiping away the powdered sugar. “They taste like hers—like home.” 

You exhaled deeply in relief, “Good,” was the only thing able to escape your lips before Javy covered them with his own. “Was hoping they’d soothe the soul a little.” 

He chuckled and picked up the plate before wrapping his arm around your waist to guide you towards the living room. “Consider me soothed, meu amor.” 

You knew in an hour he’d put his head in your lap, wondering what his family was doing at that moment to prepare for the Christmas celebration. He’d turn into you and nuzzle his face into your stomach, arms wrapped around you to keep you there to comfort him as his heart ached for a New Orleans Christmas. But you’d be there to soothe him again with spoken memories from his home, food as close to his mother's as you could get, and all the affection he desired.

[ackerfics]

FAMILY LINE — a house of the dragon fanfiction | aegon ii targaryen x oc

act one, chapter four: first, a dead wife; second, a dead mother (wc: 6.1k) | masterlist

i forgot to mention ... this is going to be slow burn as fuck

116 AC

“Your Grace, the strawberry scones and the lemon tarts are here. Where should I place them?”

A well-groomed finger points to the space right beside the tiered display of glistening honey cakes and small blueberry pies. “If you can place them right there, it would be delightful.” The handmaiden arranges the platters of desserts just the way the person in charge likes them. “Thank you. Oh, that’s lovely.”

The soft hands behind the emerald green gown sleeves adjust the plates until the flowers on the ceramics shine through without being overshadowed by the splatters of colours on the table. Teapots are checked if the right tea flavour is procured and once that is done, the lemon candies are also poured into a bowl. The owner of the non-calloused hand sighs in accomplishment, her brown eyes taking in the assembly of what could have been an array of sweets in a luxurious bakery in the more noble circles of King’s Landing. 

Alicent doesn’t know why she is fussing so much.

Afternoon tea is usually spent with all of the children the handmaidens can round up. Aether and Aegon would be the contributors of the most noise inside her solar, with the two boys circling the only girl in their little trio like a gaggle of geese; Helaena would be murmuring things to her little friends (Alicent makes sure that the bugs she brings to the tea sessions are happily crawling inside a jar); Aemond would be reading about the basics of swordsmanship or listening to his female cousin narrate the events in the book she was reading; Daeron and Daemian would be having a contest of their own, which ends up in too many crumbs on the carpets; and Aesira would be the prim little lady that she is, reading books that she managed to take from one of the libraries or simply writing in her journal while the chaos reigns in. Each child has their own little world and the placid chambers fit for the Queen become the royal nursery where they all resided years ago. Alicent never worries about presentations with that many children. Spreads of an assortment of sweets are laid out on her table because little hands always pick what they prefer.

Maybe that is why she is pacing with her head rolling on the ground; Alicent will be alone with one of them and for some reason, everything has to be perfect.

Aesira is a ghost set to ignite Alicent’s heart and mind in bouts of internal battles — a shot in the heart for the young Queen, for the little girl bears the most uncanny resemblance to the late Aemma Targaryen. The only known daughter of the Rogue Prince is a reminder that Alicent remains to be the least of priorities for the King. There is no chance for her and her children if this familiar face roams the halls, being the perfect Valyrian beauty that she is at such a young age — white blonde hair flowing in cascading waves, lilac eyes that glisten like the most expensive jewels, and magic in her veins that puts her in the apex of the chain of beings. Alicent wants to loathe her, she really does, as selfish as it sounds and as ugly as it can get. It is not becoming of her as the most powerful woman in the realm to wear her most private insecurities on her sleeve for everyone to see just because she feels so low compared to this child. It doesn’t help that she receives sympathies from the court Ladies, all with faux smiles and the ambitious intention to climb into her social circle, every time Aesira wears her blue gowns — a statement that she will always be her mother’s daughter and nothing else; as high as honour.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, to set up this tea session with only Aesira and not with the entire brood of Tragaryens in the Keep (minus the newest addition to the family courtesy of Rhaenyra). It comes with an intention in mind. Any move she places on the board is laden with purpose, including this one.

Alicent knows about her duties as the Queen; to stand with her husband through the thickest of thickets and to bear children that will further spread the magic of Old Valyria for generations to come. Yet one stands out the most. It comes from her father’s lips. Place Aegon as Heir. And it haunts her still. At some point, she doesn’t want to place a heavy burden on her son — her closest companion for five years when she felt the most alone in the castle, the babe's scent clinging to his skin giving her comfort above all else while she shed tears away from prying eyes. While Helaena never saw her with her dreamy disposition as a babe, Aegon always placed a tiny palm on her cheek to pat away the sadness staining her face. But this duty of putting him as Heir means survival. Such a pity how desperation shapes humans. So starts putting Aegon to the most subtle lessons in hopes of preparing him for his role in the future. Who was once her closest companion becomes the child who flinches when she merely places a finger on his shoulder.

It stabs her — whatever she touches is doomed to hurt, starting with her eldest son. 

She hopes that this impending decision on his future would soothe the wounds she inflicted on his skin, a gift disguised as a political move.

The presence of Aesira as the royal family’s ward is one way of securing Aegon’s claim. The Queen grasps an opportunity when she sees one. What better way to utilise Alicent’s ghost than to thread her fate with her son, probably giving the young boy the good graces of her husband in the process? She is pretty sure the seed planted by Aegon’s affection for Aesira is starting to sprout in her husband’s head, only waiting for the right time to announce it to both children and watch it blossom into a flowering plant that will be a rarity — a marriage primarily borne from the purest and most innocent of loves (from one person, still love nonetheless). Both children are at an age where arrangements are made but Alicent doesn’t want to subject them to the binds of a betrothal yet. Having Aesira as Aegon’s potential bride will be a weapon that brings down Lords to their knees, only solidifying their proximity to the throne when they birth trueborn children, something that Rhaenyra only speaks as one of her many lies. With the current Heir’s erratic behaviour, Alicent promises to herself that she will make this union happen and it will start by enticing the young girl to be closer to her.

“Lady Aesira Targaryen, Your Grace.”

Criston’s voice makes her jump. Alicent turns toward the open doors of her solar but not before hastily tucking stray auburn curls away from her face, an unsteady smile pulling on her lips. She unconsciously runs her hands over the skirts of her emerald gown, erasing the invisible creases from view.

“Thank you, Ser Criston,” Alicent’s voice is clear among the bricks holding her chambers. She looks over her shoulder, to the handmaidens who stand still beside the table with hands intertwined in front of their navels. “You are dismissed.” They bow at her and exit with Criston, leaving her with the little girl by the door. Alicent smiles, tilting her head a little to take in Aesira’s appearance. “Aesira.”

“Your Grace,” Aesira enunciates, lowering herself in a curtsy that seems to be a product of her lessons with the Septa. Clad in a soft lilac gown that is one of the many commissioned to her under the Queen’s orders (none of that eye-catching blue that the court Ladies keep whispering about), Aesira is a vision of the perfect little comely Lady bound to have hearts served for her on a gold platter. As always, her hair is styled with matching ribbons from her dress and is free to bounce with every step she makes. Alicent notices that the girl is starting to carry herself with dignity, her eyes only letting the sliver of emotions shine through — nervousness and anticipation as to why the Queen invited her and only her to her solar. Aesira straightens her posture, hands carefully holding one another in front of her as she adds, “Thank you for honouring me with an invitation. I hope I will be a good enough company for your afternoon.”

Alicent waves her hand, a practised thing that she acquired since she became Queen. “None of that,” she jests. “Your presence in my solar is already the best company I can ask for so far into my day. Come,” she beckons the girl to the table, backing to one of the cushioned chairs, “our refreshments and sweets await.”

A wave of gratitude washes over the young girl’s body. There is a little pep in her step when she makes her way to the table of various colours and waits for Alicent to sit before doing so herself on the adjacent chair. Alicent sometimes forgets that she is the same age as her eldest son with how she’s carrying herself.

The childish glow in Aesira’s eyes never dims while she trails them over the outlines of every whipped cream, filling, and dough shapes all prepared for her. It makes the shackles in the Queen’s heart loosen. Alicent doesn’t recall why she was worrying so much about Aesira’s favourites before she entered her chambers. The girl doesn’t dive straight into the honey cakes she likes so much in their usual tea sessions with the other children, rather, she carefully takes a piece of strawberry scone, the pieces of the fruit peeking through the golden bread permeating in the air. Alicent saw the exact piece of pastry in Daemian’s little hands every time. What she didn’t notice was Aesira eyeing it the same as a curious pup yet she chose to indulge in her regular honey cakes instead of taking her little brother’s share of sweets. Because it was always like that — Aether with his lemon-flavoured choices, Daemian with the hues of strawberries, and honey following Aesira like a perfume’s sillage on a summer day. Now, Alicent understands that the girl doesn’t have only one thing going about with her. It’s refreshing to see in a child of nine name days.

Alicent sips on her blend of flower and citrus tea, a specific kind of blossom the Maesters told was shipped from Yi Ti, content with the still moment for once in her hectic schedule. She lets out a chuckle when she hears a satisfied hum from Aesira, the little lady’s eyes closed to savour a second pastry, this time, a small bite of the blueberry tart.

“This is delicious, Your Grace,” Aesira hums after gulping down another bite of her blueberry tart.

Alicent smiles. “The handmaidens told me they were freshly picked and made into a new batch of sweets. Do you find it to your liking?” Her smile widens at Aesira’s animated nodding. Alicent spends a couple of moments just watching the girl stuff her face as elegantly as she can while being able to relish in the fusion of flavours brought by the treats. The initial intention of bringing Aesira here was to place the idea that she will most likely marry Aegon in the near future, it simply doesn’t exist at this juncture of the afternoon. Aesira finishes her second tart, eyes lingering on her next piece of sweet but never realising that there are residues clinging on the corners of her lips — blue from the tarts and a reminder that she is every bit of the child that she is. Alicent unconsciously picks up the napkin folded into a swan (hoping that it will add to Aesira’s fascination) and leans forward in her seat. She carefully wipes the girl’s mouth, mindful to never hurt her with her cursed fingers. “You really like it that much, little one?”

Wide lilac eyes take her in, reflecting the image of her jutting her lip in a smile while wiping invisible crumbs from Aesira’s cherubic cheeks. It is at that moment that Alicent realises she never touched her children this tenderly for so long. Her beautiful daughter—her beloved little girl—started to flinch every time a single sensation crawled on her skin. Alicent doesn’t even get to embrace Helaena after her dreams because it would make her scream more and the woman can do nothing but watch while her daughter continues pulling hair out from her scalp. It’s reminiscent of when Aether was found terrified and out of his wits that when she moved to take him away from the Kingsguard, the poor boy looked near mortified with how overwhelming everything was. Alicent forgets what it feels like to hold her children, to become the mother they deserve. As the Queen, she is expected to be standoffish but that doesn’t mean she longs to be within the circles of laughter lighting the Keep’s royal wing. With each pattern her thumb creates on Aesira’s cheek, she gains that familiar warmth again. It’s the same warmth she had when she first held Aegon, when Helaena clung to her as a babe, when Aemond smiles every time she appears, or when Daeron giggles at everything he finds funny.

She’s touching Aesira and Aesira is not hurting.

A slow nod answers her question and all thoughts vanish from her head.

Alicent tucks a lock of striking blonde hair from Aesira’s face. Time is suspended as they stare at each other, every drop of care radiating from one’s fingertips, travelling from where they touch down to the apex of a beating heart. The little one’s eyelashes shake with a flutter, the surface of her eyes becoming even more glassy by the second. Alicent purses her slips when she sees a betraying tear appear from one of Aesira’s bottom eyelids, the girl still seeing a glimpse of someone through her. She’s been on the other end of those looks since she married her husband. First, it was a dead wife and now, it’s a dead mother. Yet she keeps tidying Aesira’s hair. For once, it doesn’t squeeze her chest the way it should. She doesn’t feel like ripping her heart from the inside out nor has the urge to shout obscenities to the eye of the beholder. Instead of turning away, Alicent cups both of Aesira’s cheeks, slightly squeezing them in a manner that she herself experienced from her father before he went away to Oldtown.

Without saying a word, Alicent pulls the little girl into an embrace and the moment she does, Aesira starts sobbing.

Upon hearing the gasps for air the little one makes, Alicent looks up at the ceiling with her vision clouding with unshed tears. Her larger hand rubs soothing circles on the girl’s shaking back. When she feels a tear or two slipping from her eye, Alicent closes her eyes and presses a grounding kiss on the crown of Aesira’s head, swaying the two of them in a lullaby she starts humming unconsciously.

“I’ve got you, little one,” Alicent whispers on her forehead. “You have me now.”

The cries increase in volume and she tightens her hold around the small body slumping over her. Alicent hears the door open behind her, probably someone who heard the muffled sobs coming from inside her solar and thought it would be best to check for any altercations. True enough, when she slightly turns her head, she sees Criston frantically looking around for any threats, his hand firmly gripping his sword. The two of them make eye contact and instantly, a wave of understanding and sympathy paints Criston’s face. Alicent tries flashing a convincing smile. The Kingsguard glances at Aesira with downturned eyebrows and a rueful smile before bowing his head and disappearing through the door as if he didn’t grace the chambers with his presence.

The music of the fauna residing in the gardens goes on as Aesira tires herself out from crying.

Alicent doesn’t make a move to remove the girl from her side. She gives the little one the only thing she didn’t receive when her own mother died from a sickness that inevitably took her life way too early. Not one person thought that the little girl hugging her brothers while they let out cries of their own would ever need any semblance of comfort all these years. Alicent herself carries this guilt. She may be late but it is better than turning a blind eye and letting the girl cry within the confines of her chambers.

She isn’t a Queen who found the perfect match for her son. For now, she is a mother caring for her child. How wrong she was for thinking that this girl is nothing but a pawn in her Game of Thrones.

“Do you want to see a magic trick?” She asks with a gentle voice.

Aesira peeks from the bodice of her dress, eyes rimmed with red and cheeks too puffy to hide that she just bared her soul in front of the Queen of the realm. “Yes please,” she answers meekly, almost as tiny as the day they first met in the royal nursery.

Never losing the smile, Alicent pours Aesira a cup of the butterfly pea tea she was indulging in not too long ago. “Keep a close eye, alright? Don’t look away from the cup.” Aesira answers with another slow nod. It is all it takes for Alicent to take the secret ingredient from a small container at the side of the table and pour it into the cup. The deep blue colour of the drink gradually becomes a purple shade that is mostly associated with Targaryens. Oh, how Alicent never regrets glancing at Aesira. The girl has come out of her shell to peer at the cup in awe, the stars lighting up her eyes once again. She brushes a hand over the waves of her hair. “Isn’t it lovely? It’s a trick I’ve learned from the Maesters when they introduced this specific plant to make soothing teas with. Why don’t you give it a try, little one?”

Aesira exchanges a smile with her before sipping from the cup in the proper way that a Lady should. Once again, Alicent marvels at how Aesira fully executed what has been taught in her etiquette lessons. Surely the Septa in charge of teaching her girls is basking in pride for producing one of the most comely little ladies in court.

The teacup clinks against the saucer and Aesira faces her with wonder on her face. “What did you add to turn it into purple, Your Grace?”

The title doesn’t sit well with Alicent. Tiny baby steps first and they will get there eventually, nothing of the Your Grace greetings; she wants to hear titles befitting that of family ties attached to her name. Whatever the case, she will start showering unconditional affection to this child. Alicent winks a little, whispering, “A learned person never reveals their secret.” The answer doesn’t satisfy Aesira for she pouts while staring at the ripples on the surface of her tea, the small dried flowers floating and bumping on each other inside the rim. “You must simply visit my solar every other afternoon now to witness the sorcery flowing from my hands. Don’t tell the others about our meetings though. It remains our little solace from the rambunctiousness they always bring.”

Aesira giggles, agreeing with her. “They are quite loud, especially the boys. You have my promise, Your Grace. Though, Hel shouldn’t be left out.”

How adorable. “Then, we shall invite her as well. A tea party is better enjoyed with the people you wish to share priceless memories with after all.”

Now, Alicent comprehends why Aegon is so taken with her. The way she laughs is laced with the purest delicacy that fully captures your attention. One can tell that benevolence and humility oozes from every fibre of her being. It is the kind of beauty that lasts for lifetimes — timeless. While some Ladies fabricate stories to put the child against her, more sensible Ladies step forward to say nothing but amazing things about the little Lady. She is absolutely wonderful; she complimented even the tiniest details of my new gown, even I, myself, didn't know I have embroideries showing a rare species of butterflies. Oh, a divine little thing; no shed of her horrible father in her for the Sevens’ sakes, she is her mother through and through. The second coming of Rhaenys Targaryen, Aegon the Conqueror’s wife, herself. Maybe Alicent should have listened to the better part of the court instead of feeding into the words dipped in flowery lies.

The smiles die down and Aesira utters, “I understand the reason you invited my company this afternoon, Your Grace.” Gone is the easygoing air surrounding the table, replaced by a weighty gust of wind that worries Alicent. Aesira gives her a rueful smile that has her heart clenching. “The Lords and Ladies have been talking, Your Grace. They speak of theories that concern me and Aegon.” The girl doesn’t waver from Alicent’s widening eyes and parted lips. “I’ve always known that my placement in the Keep has meaning. Father told me so. He was already planning on betrothals when I was but a child of two name days, as far as I can remember. Mother was furious,” she gazes at a memory only she can see, “and it was the first time I ever saw it on her face. But the fact never changes that I should face it when the time comes. The court acknowledges me as Aegon’s match, he even does it himself whenever he finds the most opportune moments to say so, and with the timing of your invitation, I placed the pieces of the puzzle together.

“I only ask of this for my peace of mind, Your Grace; am I his betrothed?”

Alicent cradles Aesira’s cheeks in the ridges of her palms. She shakes her head without saying anything at first but with the distress soiling the little one’s features, she quickly brushes her hair away from her forehead. “Fret not for the matters circulating court, especially ones that are clearly passed from mouths whose main aim is to fuel a fire. They don’t know anything, little one, and they never will. The moment the King says any word of your impending marriage, you will be the first to hear about it from me. Understood?” 

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Besides, if you ask me, it’s too early for you to wear any extravagant gown made from white fabrics. Enjoy all the colours before putting on a wedding dress, alright?” Aesira shares a little laugh with her. Sombre blue rains down Alicent. “I would never wish to burden you with something so shackling like a betrothal.” Guilt gnaws the lining of her stomach. It’s a good thing she never ate anything and only watched Aesira enjoy the spread that is baked solely for her. She takes back everything she planned. Her father might have scolded her for her decision but he isn’t here to throw verbal daggers at her. “You are still nine; thinking of betrothals can wait.”

Aesira’s shoulders drop the tension. A radiant smile beams from her face; the sun is put to shame. “Oh, thank you, Your Grace! Now, Aether can rest his pacing.”

“He doesn’t like the spreading rumours of your match with Aegon, I gather then.”

“He keeps threatening to make Aegon pay during their lessons with Ser Criston,” Aesira whispers with a secretive twinkle of mischief in her eyes, seeing the improvement in her brother’s handling of the sword. Aether has the same as well and it makes Alicent laugh. “It’s quite sad to watch from the viewing balcony, to be honest.”

Poor Aegon, the embarrassment he must feel. “Ah, so that’s where Aegon gets his scratches from.”

Nonetheless, Alicent never saw any sign of resignation coming from her eldest son. It is subtle — the influence of the twins in his life. When he started learning the ways of the sword years ago with Aether, he never showed a shred of determination unlike his companion, who hardened through the years and only became ruthless with the sparring partners he had. It is only when Aesira graces the balconies does he fully commit to swinging the practice sword he’s given as if it would make Aesira come down from many flights of stairs to watch the bout in the courtyard. During the times the subject of Aesira’s prospective betrothal is brought up, with Aegon usually within hearing range, Alicent notices the little changes in his behaviour. He starts taking things seriously according to the Maesters and Ser Criston as if he is trying to prove something to everyone and himself. At dinners these days, he’s often seen glaring at Aether rather than settling little desserts on Aesira’s plate while the other boy sneers at the sight of him making unnecessary snarky looks. How fascinating it is to see the hold a girl has over her son. 

The little one places a hand over her mouth in realisation. “Please don’t admonish Aether, Your Grace.”

Alicent affectionately pinches her cheek until she whines. “I would never. Boys are bound to gain small scars from their training now and then. It is a given when they learn how to be better fighters. Aegon should know that picking up the sword means having permanent marks etched on his skin.”

Aesira nods, looking down at her whimsical tea while smiling. “Aemond is doing well, I notice. He told me all of the things he learned from his first lesson.”

“Really? Do tell me more, little one.”

As the stories revolving around her younger children (ones she never even heard of) encircled Alicent and Aesira, the high afternoon sun dipped down the crests of the mountain ranges in the distance, sunburst igniting the heavens to flare a magnificent view — and it washed everything golden. 

Hearts are opened that day and there is no sign of them closing.

Days have passed and Alicent is walking through the hallways of the Keep with a destination in mind, her skirts swishing along with the resolution coating her actions. Lord and Ladies turn their heads as she passes by, never forgetting to pay their respects by greeting and bowing even though she only wishes to see one thing in front of her as she navigates the intricate architecture of the castle — those double doors barring the inhabitants away from the harsh whispers of the halls. The clanging from behind indicates that Criston is doing his best in keeping with her pace yet she pays him no mind, slippered feet padding on the stairs leading to the castle wing dedicated to her newest children. She finally reached the level where her destination resides and immediately, the guard placed by the doors bows at her presence, his face pursing in concern. Criston doesn’t have time to announce her arrival as she opens the doors.

Three pairs of varying shades of purple from the chaise lounge look up. Just like she predicted, the three children are all gathered inside Aesira’s solar after hearing about the message Viserys received from Daemon across The Narrow Seas. Without saying a word, Alicent gathers them in her arms and offers them the unconditional warmth of someone holding their comfort dear to heart. She kneels in front of the children as their arms clutch her torso and neck. Alicent’s heart breaks when one of them starts crying, the sound alerting Criston to shut the doors and give the four the privacy they all need.

“Does Father not love us anymore?” Daemian wails on Alicent’s chest, still a toddler in his four name days to fully understand that their father left them for good.

“He is nothing but a fool,” Alicent says to the three of them. “Some men simply don't deserve to become a parent for the abomination that they are.”

The older siblings don’t speak a word but it is clear on their faces how they feel about the situation. Aether wears rage like a second skin, eyebrows furrowed and mouth set in a deep scowl. His chin is lowered a little, giving the illusion of shadows brushing against the top of his eye and his fists are clenching on the sides of his pants, creasing the fabric between his fingers. While Aether is a master of having his heart on his sleeve, Aesira’s silence sends Alicent a spine-chilling sensation from the crown of her head down to the tips of her limbs. The little one is glaring at nothing and something at the same time; one would think her mind is vacant with how still she is. Her brothers are shaking from anger and misery yet she remains unmoving at their side, her head not even touching the shoulder of the woman rubbing their backs. Alicent hopes that in her lifetime, she will never be placed on the other end of Aesira’s stare.

“I despise him,” Aether spits the word with so much emotion that a single tear runs down his cheek. “If I see him again, I might actually kill him.”

Alicent pulls the boy closer to her. “Do not speak of such terms,” she murmurs on his hair. “We do not dabble in kinslaying. We are above that.”

Aether makes a sharp gasp, a result of holding back his incoming sob. “I am just so angry, Your Grace. How could he do this and not feel any shred of remorse?”

It’s Aesira who says the words. “Because he thinks of no one but himself.” Her eyelids are rapidly blinking to prevent the tears from flowing. There is a tremble in her bottom lip, but no sign of a frown pulling down her mouth. Alicent instantly gets an image of Helaena’s dolls.

“But Father is—”

“He is not our father, Daemian!” She glares at the whimpering boy. Alicent doesn’t even have the room to interject when Aesira adds with as much distaste in her voice as she can muster, “And he will never be. He chose to leave us in a place we do not know. He nearly took Aether from us and left him somewhere in the Keep for three days until he was found terrified to the bone.” She gulps down, breath hitching, and shoulders taut with tension. “He doesn’t care about us. If he did, he would have landed his blasted dragon in the Dragonpit and raised us himself instead of siring children with his new wife. He doesn’t love us, not even when Mother is swollen with carrying us. How can he when we’re not born from love—”

“Sira!” Aether shouts, hugging a distraught Daemian closer to him. “You’re scaring Damy!”

At that moment, Alicent sees Aesira cry for the third time.

“Oh, little one,” Alicent says the words like a caress. She hears broken sentences on her shoulder, all with a combination of sorry and I didn’t mean it. “I know, I know,” she answers every single phrase she can pick up. Alicent manages to catch Aether’s teary eyes, beckoning the young boy to bring himself and his brother back to her embrace. They go back to huddling close to Alicent as if they are meant to be there and not anywhere else. “That man is an imbecile for leaving behind three beautiful children. I may not know if he truly felt that deeply for the family he created with your mother but I know you three can make one of your own here. We might not be of blood but I can care for you like I am made by the Seven to do so. Now, little one,” she strokes Aesira’s hair from her face, “apologise to your younger brother.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Damy,” Aesira’s voice wobbles. “Your big sister is just angry at him.”

Daemian lets go of Alicent and buries himself into Aesira. “Don’t do that again,” he pouts.

She kisses his temple. “I won’t.” Aesira picks him up, letting out a small huff at the added weight, remarking, “You’re getting bigger, Damy. Please don’t get any bigger on me now. I won’t be able to carry you like this if you keep on getting taller than me.” All she gets in reply is a lovely giggle. She wordlessly asks Alicent for permission and the woman nods her head. “Damy, what have you been eating?” She grumbles away to the table where the jar of blueberry and lemon sweets Alicent gave lay resting, her brother clinging onto her like one of those creatures Aether drew during one boring tutoring lesson with Aegon’s name attached to it.

“What will happen, Your Grace?” Aether asks Alicent, who turns back to him. “Will the King send out dragon eggs just like Daemon asked for?”

“The King will make a decision that he thinks is right,” the woman is now fully sitting on the carpeted floor to accommodate the boy of name days in a more comfortable position against her, “ and whatever will happen, we have no part in it. Nothing will change if my husband decides to send out dragon eggs to Essos just because The Rogue Prince demands them. Life will not stop its course — you will keep on growing and you will have futures to play into. My husband’s younger brother is not the end of your world, Aether.” She gazes at the pair of children picking up variations of sweets from the jar, recognizing the piece of expensive ceramic as part of her personal collection. Alicent sent her little one stocks of the candies her brothers and she loves chewing on on a regular basis, the contents of the jar coming from one conversation they shared about what her brothers preferred. Aesira is fussing over her baby brother while the boy continues smearing the cream of the blueberry sweets on his mouth. “Daemian stops his crying easily now.”

Aether follows her eyes to where his siblings are. He snorts at the moustache above Daemian’s lip. “It’s mostly because of Aesira,” slowly, he adds with a growing smile, “which is funny because she made him cry in the first place.” He catches Alicent’s frown and mutters, “Sorry.”

What is with oldest brothers and jesting about younger siblings? Gwayne did it to her growing up. Aegon does it with Helaena and Aemond each time they breathe the same air as him (never Daeron because the boy follows him around like a little duckling). Aether constantly teases the Seven Hells out of his little sister and brother. She supposes it is simply in their nature to be their kin’s greatest bully. Though that doesn’t mean Aegon gets away with pushing his brother into a bush to catch Aesira’s attention or comment on Helaena’s weird insects out of the blue. (Aemond cried to Alicent that Aegon pushed him simply because he was mean about everything but when Aether smacked Aegon at the back of his head for snatching Aesira away after pushing the younger boy, Alicent instantly understood.)

“But really, I’m glad Sira is here. I don’t need other siblings when I already have her and Daemian. They are enough for me as is. Besides, the kids Lady Laena gave birth to are nothing to me; they just happen to share the same father as me, Aesira, and Daemian.” Then, he stops leaning on Alicent. “Is that one of my lemon candies?” He scrambles to stand up from his comfortable position, scurrying to where Daemian is on the verge of gobbling one of his prized lemon candies, the sugar coating glinting against the sun’s rays. “You already have your blueberry candies, Damy! Don’t eat it! Sira,” he whines, pouting away as fixes his sister with a purposeful rendition of a puppy asking for treats, “he’s eating my sweets!”

Alicent picks herself up from the floor and stares at the children for a few moments, what Aether said ringing in her mind. Does Rhaenyra share the same feeling? Does her anger spread to Alicent’s own blood that she doesn’t have the heart to acknowledge that they are her siblings despite not sharing a mother? Again, her father’s words add to the headache. Rhaenyra will not stop until there are no threats to her throne. Alicent will have to cleave for her mercy to not have a single strand of hair on her family be harmed. She doesn’t realise she has been pulling apart pieces of thin skin from her fingers, the sharp sting of newly-healed wounds opening again.

She will indulge in this domestic bliss for now; but when the moment comes for her to wear the crown fitted on her head, her first move will be putting forth the greatest union known among the realms — a marriage.

this is already on my ao3 so if you want more chapters, click on this link

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[vannahfanfics]

Fright Night

Word Count: 2,400

Established Relationship, Humor, Pranks

Summary: Robin and Law share a morbid sense of humor, and they use it to terrorize their crewmates. Just a little bit.

“You know, Nico-ya—when you said that you wanted to spice up date night, this isn’t quite what I had in mind,” Law frowned as he scratched at the side of his head. He was looking down at Robin with a mixture of concern and intrigue. 

“I can’t blame you for that, I suppose,” came Robin’s nonchalant reply. “Most people’s ideas of dates don’t involve a disembodied head on a platter.” 

“Yet, here we are, with your disembodied head on a platter.” 

Robin’s body was sitting in the chair at the small side table on which her detached head rested comfortably; it gave Law an airy shrug, then resumed arranging romaine lettuce leaves on a large ceramic serving plate. It was quite a strange feeling, Robin mused, knowing that you were completely disconnected from your body yet able to direct its motions unimpeded. Robin merely felt like the rest of her body was suspended in water, a little weighty and cool but otherwise sensorily intact. 

“Come, now,” Robin hummed mirthfully at her boyfriend, her lipsticked mouth curling up into an impish smirk. “You can’t act all unsure before you ask me what I intend to do with my severed head on a platter.” 

“Pray tell, what do you intend to do with your severed head on a platter?” Law chuckled. 

Knowing Law, Robin surmised that he had thought that she was joking when she’d asked him to sever her head using his Devil Fruit powers. Feeling a little light-hearted himself, he’d probably done it as a joke with all intention of putting it back within a minute or so. He’d probably expected Robin to be wholly unfazed by it, given that they shared the same morbid sense of humor, but he apparently hadn’t expected her to plop her own head on a table and start arranging things like she was going to present it to a meal to somebody. 

Which is exactly what she intended to do. 

“I overheard Sanji say that Usopp missed dinner again because he’s too busy tinkering with something in his workshop,” Robin explained, pausing to let her hand pop an extra piece of lettuce into her mouth. She crunched it between her teeth and swallowed, madly curious to see if it would merely fall out of her throat or would somehow be teleported to the rest of her body. She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved to find it was the latter. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” she grinned when Law raised an eyebrow at her. “Anyway, Sanji went to prepare something for him, and it will take time, naturally. So I thought that was the perfect recipe for a prank. Don’t you think so, too, Law?” she asked with an alluring flap of her lashes. The coy gesture did little to disguise the downright devilish gleam in her eyes. 

“I think you should leave the cooking to Black Leg-ya,” Law huffed, but his face directly contradicted his words. A Cheshire cat grin stretched wide across his mouth, and his dark eyes had taken on the same devious gleam as Robin’s. “That being said… You’ve already put in so much effort, and the man does hate to waste food. We wouldn’t want to upset your hard-working cook, now, would we?” 

“Indeed not,” Robin purred. She knew that winning over Law would be easy, but she was still incredibly pleased with his compliance. She really had intended for this to be a way to shake up the humdrum of date night, after all. One could only do so many private dinners and cuddle sessions before boredom began to set in. Variety was the spice of life, as the saying went, and Robin was in the mood for something tasty. 

And what could be tastier than scaring the living daylights out of the ship’s resident fraidy-cat? 

“All right, I think that’s enough. It’s time to bring Usopp a special delivery,” Robin smirked wickedly when her body had finished placing the last leaf of lettuce on the plate. 

“It’s a good thing that I’m a doctor,” Law laughed while picking up Robin’s head to gently set it on the plate. “I think I might have to do CPR on him after this prank. I’ve seen you all pull some shit on him, but I think this one takes the cake.” 

As he pulled his hands away, Robin blinked thoughtfully up at him; in the chair, her body mimed as if she was cupping her chin with a hand. Since her chin was a foot away resting against some romaine, of course, it merely cupped empty air. 

“What?” Law asked her. 

“Do you think I should have my body jump out of a cake?” 

“Nico-ya, I’m starting to think that you might actually want to kill Nose-ya,” Law laughed and shook his head at her. 

“Well, even if he does die, you can just resuscitate him,” Robin pointed out, her headless body shrugging casually once again. “Although, I suppose a heart attack isn’t exactly pleasant, and I’ve no real grudge against Usopp. I’ll save that idea for another time, I guess.” Robin willed her body to stand, then to motion at the silver dish cover sitting on the table beside her plattered head. “All right. Let’s hurry, before Sanji gets to him and ruins the joke!” 

“I pity those you do have grudges against,” Law just chuckled and grabbed the dish cover. 

When Law placed it over her head, Robin couldn’t help but quip, “Hey, who turned out the lights?” 

It took several minutes to get down to Usopp’s workshop in the depths of the Thousand Sunny’s hull, for Law had to proceed carefully with Robin’s headless body in tow. Most of the crew were still above decks, most likely, but they didn’t want to risk running into one of them and having to waste time on explanations. They couldn’t use Law’s Room to fast-travel down there, either; in order to do so, he’d have to create one of considerable size, and it might attract the attention of Robin’s crewmates. Both circumstances could result in Sanji completing his cooking and delivering the meal to Usopp, which would not bode well for Robin’s practical joke. Thankfully, they arrived at the door to the workshop having encountered nary a soul. 

“Oi, Nose-ya,” Robin heard her significant other call while rapping his knuckles against the door. “I’m coming in.” While her body hid in the shadows of the hall, Law slipped into the workshop, making sure to shut the door behind him. “You missed dinner, so Black Leg-ya had me bring it to you since I was headed toward the underwater viewing deck.” 

“Aw, man, I totally lost track of time!” Robin heard Usopp whine, presumably from his workbench based on the muffled sound of him hastily pushing things aside. Robin felt the platter shift as Law brought it across the room. 

“Thanks, Law!” Usopp chirped when Law set the platter down. “Funny how as soon as you stop doing something, you realize how hungry you are!” he then laughed, followed by a loud, gurgling growl of his belly. He sounded positively famished, and Robin almost felt bad for playing this little joke on him.

Almost. 

“Now, let’s see what ol’ Sanji’s whipped up this time!” she heard Usopp cackle in anticipation, combined with the sound of him rubbing his hands together. “Come to Papa~”

Robin plastered a big, cheesy grin on her face, and when Usopp removed the lid from the platter, she trilled, “Bon appetit!” 

“AAAIIIYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Usopp immediately howled and sprang off his stool like it was suddenly a blazing-hot fire under his rump. He frantically back-pedaled away from Robin’s detached head, and she watched with glee as all the blood drained from his face and his irises shrank into the whites of his eyes. In so doing, he tripped over a loose board and went sprawling out on his back. 

Law hastily scrambled out of the way of his flailing arms, then immediately succumbed to laughter; one hand clutched the workbench, while the other held his stomach as he gasped through his cackling fit. 

Meanwhile, Robin laughed merrily and bid her body to stroll into the room, while ripping another high-pitched scream from the terrified young man. He just watched in a mixture of horror and fascination as her body strolled up to the silver platter and plucked her head from the bed of leaves. His eyes then rolled into the back of his head, and he flopped lifelessly back to the floor. 

“Shah—Shah—Shambles!” Law wheezed while holding out a quivering hand to activate his Devil Fruit. 

Just like that, Robin’s form was now all put together. She experimentally rolled her neck around her shoulders and turned it side-to-side; once satisfied that the reattachment had not gone awry, she smiled and strolled over to the splayed-out Usopp. She crouched down beside him and clicked her tongue; sure enough, he was out cold, his eyes rolled back so she could only see the whites. When she checked his pulse, however, she felt it thrumming strong against her fingertips. No harm, no faul, she decided. 

Just then, Robin and Law heard thundering footsteps approaching. They looked up just in time to see the door burst open. 

“Usopp! Usopp, are you—?!” Sanji shouted, eyes wide with panic and his cigarette clenched tight between his teeth. It took him a second to process the scene, and as he did, his fright slowly morphed into confusion. His gaze flicked from Robin to the silver platter to Law several times in succession before the revelation dawned on his face. 

“Law! What did you do to Usopp?” he demanded, pointing a stern finger at him while using his other hand to hold a bowl of steaming-hot soup high over his head. 

��It was Nico-ya’s idea!” Law shrugged, though his devilish smirk didn’t do much to inspire any notions of his innocence. 

“Oh, we just played a little prank on him,” Robin tutted while fanning Usopp’s face. She smiled as his eyelids began to flutter and color return to his ghastly white face. “I didn’t expect him to faint.” 

Sanji scrunched up his face in a terse frown, caught between wanting to scold her and being totally unable to. So, he just stood there in stiff silence as Usopp slowly came to, moaning and groaning. 

“Ah… Robin… Your head…” he whined as he looked up at her through hazy, unfocused eyes. “Hey… It’s… It’s attached!” The sight of her totally not-headless body had him rapidly ascending into consciousness; he sat bolt upright with a gasp, looking between her, Law, and the platter with a series of confused noises. “But—But I—you—your head—the platter—Wuh?” He suddenly stopped to fix his bewildered stare on Law, and it, too, dawned on him. 

“You guys! That was totally not cool!” he cried while throwing his hands into his curly black hair. “Taking advantage of my hunger—way to hit below the belt, Robin!” 

“Sorry,” Robin apologized, though she only half-meant it. “If it makes it any better, Sanji’s here with a real plate of food for you.” 

Usopp crossed his legs underneath him and looked up at the cook as he walked over. Sanji bent down to hand Usopp the plate, and the inventor took it with a grateful sigh. He then grimaced and swirled the spoon around the broth several times, scrutinizing it. 

“You’re not in on this, are you, Sanji? No eyeballs, fingers, or creepy-crawlies?” Usopp asked with a suspicious frown up at the blond. 

“Nope. Soup is totally safe, Usopp,” Sanji reassured him with a weary smile. “Jeez… I’m glad you didn’t kill him, you two. I’d’ve been pissed if that soup had gone to waste.” 

“Oh, thanks,” Usopp huffed around a mouthful of soup and rolled his eyes. “Be pissed about the soup, not about the fact that I died. Really feeling the love here, guys.” 

“Oh, come now. I only pranked you because I knew you’d have such a delightful reaction,” Robin giggled. When Usopp frowned dourly at her, she reached up to pat him on the head. “I’m joking. You’re a good sport, Usopp; you know how to laugh at yourself. Come on—it was pretty funny, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Usopp agreed with a little snicker. “I gotta admit, that was pretty good. I can’t believe I haven’t thought of using Law’s Devil Fruit powers to pull a prank like that.” He stopped in the middle of spooning more soup into his mouth, and Robin purred excitedly at the devious gleam that alit his eyes. “Wait… What if we took off my arm and used it to prank Chopper?! Or my leg? Heck, my head, even!” 

“Nope. Not gonna be a part of this. Not listening,” Sanji quipped and strode right out of the door, hands over his ears. 

“Hold on, hold on—let me just finish this and we’ll think of something real good!” Usopp cackled maniacally and started shoveling soup into his mouth with gusto. 

Robin left him to it, rising to her feet and strolling languidly over to Law. As she leaned against the workbench beside him, he frowned at her. 

“Okay, Nose-ya coming in to third-wheel is definitely not what I had in mind.” 

“Oh, don’t even,” Robin chortled and gave him a knowing smirk. “I know that you’re dying to scare the pants off of Chopper.” 

Law could only hold his stern glare for a second before it morphed into a wolfish grin. 

“... I’d wonder if that makes me a bad person, except, I really don’t care,” he snickered devilishly and rubbed his tattooed hands together. “Oi, Nose-ya! What about sticking your arms in Nami’s tangerine trees and getting her, too?” 

“Yes!” Usopp agreed animatedly. “Although, we should save her for last. Nami might actually kill us. I want to prank everybody else before I’m brutally slaughtered like a helpless prey animal.” 

“Don’t worry, Usopp, I’ll protect you,” Robin chuckled. 

Yes, this was shaping up to be a rather interesting date night indeed. Oh, Robin was so glad that she found someone who shared her morbid sense of humor. The Thousand Sunny could do with a little excitement here and there, after all. They were just good little shipmates doing their part to keep things lively! 

“Fufufu…”

Did you enjoy this oneshot? Consider requesting from me by visiting my rules, then either commenting on this story, submitting an ask, or contacting me via DM! 

[padmerrie]

Happy Birthday, Kakashi! No matter what universe you're in, you'll always be the best dad. <3

ᓚᘏᗢ    ᓚᘏᗢ    ᓚᘏᗢ    

“Ah,” Kakashi said over his shoulder as he stood over the stove.  “I was wondering when my little intruder would emerge.”

Sakura eyed the bacon crackling in the frying pan.  “You thought someone broke into your house and your weapon of defense was to serve them a home cooked breakfast?”

“Are you questioning my methods?”

“Not if it means I won’t get to eat any of this.”

“Then help yourself to some coffee, friend.”

Sakura shuffled over to the coffee pot, twisting her wet hair into a loose knot.  She opened the cupboard above the sink and considered the collection of mugs.  Eventually, she fished out one tucked away in the back.  She set it down on the counter and made a beeline to the coffeepot.

Kakashi gave the cartoon dog flipping him off and saying “Fetch this” a sidelong glance.  “Bacon will be done in a minute.”

“Great.”  Sakura topped off Kakashi’s mug - a simple yellow one with the words “Go Sports Ball!” written in bold red letters - before heading to the refrigerator.  

As she pulled out the cream, Tabi trotted past her and leapt onto the counter next to Kakashi, paying no mind to the steaming opportunity sitting tantalizingly close to the counter’s edge.  Instead, he planted himself by the stove and stared at the bacon sizzling in the frying pan.  Hypnotized.  

Kakashi glanced at him.  With his free hand he took a crispy strip of bacon from the plate on the opposite side of the stove, took a bite, then offered Tabi what was left.  Just like that, the cat snapped out of his trance and chomped at it, narrowly missing Kakashi’s fingers.  

“Wow,” Sakura said, standing by the open refrigerator door, stunned.  “That was so… civil.”

Kakashi prodded the bacon in the frying pan with his spatula and said sagely,  “All great relationships need a strong foundation.”

“Relationship?” Sakura said, popping open the carton and pouring cream into her mug until its contents turned from an inky black to warm, golden brown.  “When did that happen?”  

“About three weeks after Sasuke left for college.  Lives were at stake.”  

“Bacon, huh?”  Sakura thought about Ino and imagined her presenting her library crush with a platter teeming with bacon.  “Usually they say trust and communication are the pillars upon which healthy, lasting relationships are built.”

“You can’t buy trust and communication at the grocery store.”  Kakashi turned the burner off with a flick of his wrist and set down the spatula.  “Can you grab the butter?” 

Sakura reached back inside the fridge, returning the carton to the top shelf and pulling out the ceramic butter dish.  When she turned around, she nearly dropped it.

“How-?” she stammered, staring open mouthed at Tabi now perched on Kakashi’s shoulder. 

Kakashi strolled past her, coffee in one hand and the platter of bacon balanced on the other.  “Don’t tell Sasuke,” he simply said, and turned the corner into the living room.

Sakura let out a laugh of disbelief and shook her head.  She bumped the refrigerator door close with her hip, picked her mug off the counter, and followed Kakashi to the dining table. 

Laid out across the table was a whole lot more than bacon.  

“Was I really in the shower that long?” Sakura asked a little sheepishly as she took a seat.

Across from her, Kakashi shook his head, bringing his mug up to his lips.  “It’s ok.”

Sakura tried to smile, but even the heavenly smell of buttered toast and bacon couldn’t make her forget why she was there.  

She had thought she’d surrendered her dignity when she showed up at Sasuke and Naruto’s dorm with little more than a suitcase and a short list of options.  This belief had been mortifyingly disproven when Sasuke informed her that his suitemates - people Sakura had grown to like over the past month and thought liked her in return - wanted her out.  Even now, the truth still stung… but could she blame them?  She didn’t go to Yale, a fact she had to point out to Sasuke when he insisted on trying to change their minds.  Kind as the offer was, she didn’t think she could take any more humiliation.  That is, until Sasuke insisted she go home.  And by home, he meant his home.  His and Kakashi’s.  

Looking at the food laid out before her, she felt an all-too familiar pressure building up behind her eyes.  Distantly, she heard Kakashi set his mug down.

“Sakura,” he said, firm but gentle.

Sakura slowly looked up, meeting Kakashi’s intent gaze from across the table.  

“It’s ok.” 

Kakashi and Sasuke weren’t blood-related, Sakura knew this, but over time there were moments where she noticed that they shared the same eyes, where the force of their conviction threw open the windows to the soul and she’d catch a brief glimpse of a beautiful, unspoken truth: Sasuke may have been an Uchiha, but he inherited his heart from Kakashi. 

After a moment, Sakura nodded.  “Ok.”

A wisp of a smile sneaked up in the corners of Kakashi’s eyes.  “Ok.”  

bookends au

[spellbookscolopendra]

Time to Shine

Negotiations were always fun. They gave you the chance to put on your full war regalia- heavy armor plates grafted to your ceramic exterior, infohazards hidden beneath aposematic plumage, talons sharpened once more to a nanometer-thick edge. And of course, the Very Big Gun across your shoulders. Everyone's eyes would be on you- from the fearful eyes of witches only recently ascended, to the most hardened of the combat dolls present. Which is, of course, precisely where they shouldn't have been. No, while playing dress up *was* always fun, your true enjoyment was vicarious. It was always her time to shine. Who would ever suspect a frail thing such as it? Its frame was barely sturdy enough to support the platter it carried, let alone the tea on top of it. When the threat of two tons of ballistics ceramic is right in front of you, no one ever thinks to check their drink for subjectivity-adjusting parasites. Its going to be ecstatic when people start agreeing with its witch. And you're going to be happy to watch.

[ceramiccity]

Unique Ceramic Platter with Fruit

Hand holding ceramic plate with fresh apple slices, blue glaze, food presentation, healthy snack, pottery. Follow Ceramic City on Tumblr Source: https://research-lighting.tumblr.com/post/747203730386173952/unique-ceramic-platter-with-fruit-follow