#copper glass gift set

[copperproduct]

How to Choose the Right Copper Glass Set for Your Kitchen

In the world of kitchen essentials, the timeless allure of copper has made its mark. Beyond its aesthetic appeal, copper glasses offer numerous health benefits, making them a popular choice for both traditional and modern kitchens. If you’re on the lookout for the perfect copper glass set, here’s a guide to help you make an informed decision.

Material Matters: Opting for Pure Copper

When it comes to choosing a copper glass set, the purity of the material is paramount. Pure copper drinking glasses not only exude a classic charm but also come with health benefits. Copper is known for its antimicrobial properties, which can help keep your beverages fresher for longer.

Craftsmanship and Quality: The Art of Making Copper Glasses

Pay attention to the craftsmanship of the copper glasses. Look for sets that are handcrafted by skilled artisans. Handmade glasses often exhibit unique characteristics and attention to detail, making them stand out in terms of quality.

Size and Shape: Finding the Right Fit for Your Needs

Copper glasses come in various shapes and sizes. Consider the purpose you have in mind. If you’re a fan of cocktails, a set of smaller, stylish glasses might be ideal. For everyday use, a set of larger glasses can accommodate your daily hydration needs.

Lining Material: Addressing Concerns about Taste

Some people express concerns about the taste of water or beverages stored in copper glasses. To address this, many copper glasses have a lining made of materials like stainless steel that prevent direct contact between the liquid and the copper, ensuring a pure and unaltered taste.

Maintenance: Embracing the Patina or Preserving the Shine

Copper develops a patina over time, which can enhance its beauty. If you appreciate the natural aging process, choose a set that doesn’t have a protective coating. However, if you prefer to maintain the original shine, opt for copper glasses with a protective layer that slows down the patina development.

Price and Budget: Balancing Quality and Affordability

Like any kitchenware, the price of copper glass sets can vary. While high-quality, artisanal sets may come with a higher price tag, they often justify the investment with their durability and craftsmanship. Consider your budget and strike a balance between quality and affordability.

Reviews and Recommendations: Learning from Others

Before making a purchase, read reviews and seek recommendations from others who have experience with the copper glass set you’re interested in. This can provide valuable insights into the durability, maintenance, and overall satisfaction of the product.

Final Words

Investing in a Pure copper glass set is not just about acquiring functional kitchenware; it’s about adding a touch of elegance and tradition to your home. By considering factors like material, craftsmanship, size, lining, maintenance, price, and user reviews, you can confidently choose the right copper glass set that complements your kitchen and elevates your drinking experience. Cheers to a blend of style and health in every sip!

FAQs

Q1: Why should I choose a copper glass set for my kitchen?

A1: Copper glasses not only exude a timeless charm but also offer health benefits. The antimicrobial properties of copper can help keep your beverages fresher for longer, making it a popular choice for both aesthetic and functional reasons.

Q2: Are all copper glasses made of pure copper?

A2: No, not all copper glasses are made of pure copper. It’s essential to check the product details and ensure that the set you’re considering is made from pure copper. Pure copper drinking glasses are known for their authenticity and health benefits.

Q3: Does the taste of beverages change when stored in copper glasses?

A3: Some people may be concerned about a metallic taste in beverages stored in copper glasses. To address this, many copper glasses have a lining made of materials like stainless steel, preventing direct contact between the liquid and the copper to maintain a pure and unaltered taste.

Q4: How do I maintain the shine of copper glasses?

A4: Copper develops a natural patina over time, adding character to the glasses. If you prefer to maintain the original shine, choose copper glasses with a protective coating. Regular cleaning with a mild solution of lemon juice and salt can also help preserve the shine.

Q5: Are handmade copper glasses better than machine-made ones?

A5: Handmade copper glasses are often considered superior due to the craftsmanship and attention to detail. Each glass may have unique characteristics, making them stand out in terms of quality. However, the choice between handmade and machine-made glasses ultimately depends on personal preference.

[mayasaurusss]

hello!! how are ya??

may I request a jinx x FEM/GN reader who is shorter than her and has cat-like features almost like lest from arcane s2?? thank you and happy holidays Maya :D

A/N: hello anon! I'm fine, how about you? I hope you're okay with this, it's not a full oneshot but a series of thoughts/headcanons.

Thank you for requesting, and I wish you happy holidays as well!❤ (not gonna lie, when I read that I squealed 'cause of happiness😂)

Not proofread!

Jinx was transfixed with you from the first time she met you.

She met you during one of her raids in the undercity, and you, coincidentally, were one of the people who were near when she attacked. The enforcers, as usual, had entered the city's grounds and wrecked havoc. She, on the other hand, decided to bring her trusted granades and gun. Silco had explicitly ordered her to stay away, but she's Jinx: she does what she want and today, all she wanted was to have a little fun and distract the voices from her head.

You were one of the people running away from the enforcers. Blood caked in the small layer of fur you had, eyes as tight as slits and panic on your features. And when she drove them away, too scared to face Silco after her last little stunt, you looked at her with pure adoration.

And Jinx? She just has to admit that she was smitten with you from the start. Not immediately, let's make that clear, but somehow you tugged at something inside of her and slowly reached out into her heart.

Jinx who was at first, despite her interests, a little freaked out from you. She doesn't want you to know that, but something about how you looked just made a little alarm bubble pop off above her head. Overtime though, she started to get used to you and with it, became more and more infatuated.

Jinx who, every day, runs her hands into your fur. She likes to warm her cold hands in it, consequentially making you freeze. She smiles devilishly when she does so, while you try to pry her away or run from her grasp, but alas, she's too strong. You're gonna warm her up for a while.

Jinx who is utterly amazed by your eyes, far more intense than any she's ever seen. She wouldn't admit it to you right away, but she gets cranky whenever trying to draw you because no matter what shades of colors she uses, she can never replicate your eye's colours quite right.

Jinx who plays with your ears. They're very sensitive so she is careful, but she likes to play with their tips, twirling and pinching them. She likes to run her fingers in the floof at the base. When you're stressed, she'll scratch the back of your ears, making you fall asleep above her.

Jinx who just loves to annoy you for your height. She didn't even thought that there could be people shorter than her; you know, besides Isha and the yordels.

Jinx who, despite all her good will, sometimes will be pretty oblivious to social standards. Cut her some slack! She has only ever had relationships with Silco and... Sevika, in years! So she'll blurt out stuff without really thinking too much about it. "Do you need to do drink some milk, kitty cat?" and she says that every time you're cranky. Oh she's so lucky you love her, or by now she'd be scratched all over.

Jinx who boops you! All. The. Time. Throughout the day, few are the moments she doesn't spend her time with her fingers on the tip of your nose. She has the habit of booping your nose with her thumb and then pressing a kiss on it. The second after doing so, she let's cute aggression get to her and she starts to bite your cheeks and squish them.

Jinx who is all happy and fidgety when you bring her your "preys". Those are, of course, just little things you found around the under city that made you think of her. Usually they are shards of the most beautiful blue glass, copper coloured gears or some new set of crayons you bought. On that note, maybe you were better off as a bird. She always gasps and marvels at each of your gifts, always shocked by how much you know her. "Kitty cat! These are amazing!" she rolls the blue and pink polished shards of glass in her hands, "I'm going to make a beautiful necklace out of this for you!".

Jinx who tries to not be mad when she finds your fur on her clothes. "Please" she begs you, "please, one pair of pants. Leave me one pair of pants!".

Jinx who falls asleep immediately ever since you've entered her life. Her nose is pressed on your torso, limbs tangled in you. The voices are gone, and you are so soft and warm, so nice and loving... And as she drifts to sleep, she knows her place is here with you.

[frostedclock-writes]

Alastor x Reader

----

Making it up (Part 1)

SFW

At first he does small things to try and appease you. You find little gifts in front of your room door. Small trinkets at first. Brooches, a container of cookies that were obviously made by Niffty, lady fingers fresh from Rosie's, songs being played on the radio in the lobby that you had a fondness for.

But you remained upset, not letting the small gestures make up for him leaving you in the dark for so long. No you wouldnt let his smile, his silly puns and his gifts worm his way back into your good graces.

You left the room when it was just you and him, you would blatantly ignore him when he would try to pull you into his conversations at times, you would use any excuse not to be near him without being truly rude -just riding the line.

Then several weeks pass before he is able to corner you like a trapped rabbit. He looms over you and looks down at you with glowing red eyes that are only enhanced by the monocle he sports.

" You will come by the my room tonight." It wasn't a question and Alastor's tone held no room for arguments. And he was gone, leaving you with the knowledge that it would be nearly impossible to skip out or avoid him anymore.

You dress nice for the evening, simple but nice. You wait outside Alastor's room door for a good thirty minutes, mainly arguing with yourself about even giving the man another chance. When you knock the door opened on its own like it had only been waiting for your touch.

A table set in the Bayou tells you what exactly the Radio Demon had up his sleeve. The dishes on the table were mouthwatering, and the whisky bottle sat between two glasses. Alastor had his overcoat off and just his usual dress casuals, but it was different when he had his coat off.

" Mon Cher, " Alastor pulled out your seat for you. " I made your favorites. "

" I know what your doing and it won't work." You tell him and you just get a 'hmm' from the elusive demon as he pushes you closer to the table.

The food was of course delicious, and had you nearly drooling when he brought out the lemon bars for dessert.

He spoke mostly, telling you about small things he had done about the hotel that day. Casual. It was nearly irritating to you.

" Are you ever going to tell me where you were?" The words come from your lips without much thought and it stopped Alastor mid-drink.

It was silent for a moment then you sigh and you were about to rise from your seat when his hand touches yours. You pause. Alastor usually didn't appreciate physical contact, it was rare and far between.

" I would tell you, but I dare not risk your safety for just a bit of knowledge. Just know that I am back now and I have no intention on leaving anytime soon. "

You were still upset, and it would take a long time to forget about the seven years thinking he was dead or might as well have been. But you always were a sucker for that soft smile he would have only in small moments. Perhaps it was a true one. You knew it gave your stomach the flips and your fingers feel like they were vibrating.

" Alastor... "

His fingers would brush your hair out of your face.

" Mon Cher"

His lips always like a mix of copper and coffee. It was bitter taste but you never minded when it came from him.

[tragedy-of-commons]

killjoy

childe x gn!reader | wc: ~1.6k

You catch your boyfriend setting up the cake.

tags/warnings: bday fun, modern & college au, based off of the American College Experience™ sorry, tooth-rotting fluff, teucer is a national treasure, comedy, possibly ooc, reader has hair

notes: for @staarri's 100 followers & bday event <3 trying to write childe was a nightmare but the wheel of doom has spoken. chosen prompt "cruel summer" :)

It has been one hell of a day.

Pop quizzes in two of your classes (that you are now tanking), getting heckled by that same group of protesters, slamming head-first into a glass panel like a pigeon, and then getting splashed by a puddle via a speeding car. 

To give credit where credit is due, you’ve suffered through every incident with class and poise. Despite how you drip with murky street water, the saving grace that is the promise of your warm bed keeps you from inventing new profanities and falling to your knees in the student parking lot.

It’s almost over with, it’s almost over with—

The splintered door of your dorm unit has never looked more welcoming. When your keycard is approved with a click, you heave the barrier between you and uninterrupted sleep wide open. However, what you don’t expect is the little spectacle unfolding in your kitchenette.

Who you belatedly realize is your lovely boyfriend is sticking candles into something - it being quickly shielded from your view as he reacts to your arrival.

“You just had to be early,” he grins, revealing those pearly whites, “Maybe I’ll start calling you ‘Killjoy’.”

“Ajax?” He’s here? Today? But he said— He must notice your sorry state, but he’s wise enough not to mention it. “You really think I’d miss celebrating your birthday in person? Seriously, what kind of partner would I be, just sending you a text? Babe, you gotta start setting some higher standards.”

“Rotten liar,” you mumble, growing smile threatening to split your face in two. 

A small flash of copper peeks around the bedroom-adjoining hallway, hyper. Teucer rushes up in front of his brother, the latter ruffling his hair. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here yet!”

You snort, wondering if anyone else is planning to jump out of the shadows. “My sincerest apologies. I could always leave—”

“No need,” Ajax dismisses the notion with a cavalier wave. “I think we’re all ready, huh Teuce?”

He huffs in agreement, beaming up at you like you hung the moon. “One second!”

Teucer scampers off faster than you can blink, making you bellow a laugh. His energy knows no bounds, necessitating many hours of entertaining his whims. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Happy birthday,” Ajax says softly; wistfully.

You stalk over to him, embracing your boyfriend like he might disappear into thin air without a moment’s notice. “If you broke in, I will be calling campus security.” “You’d never turn me in! Also, we just so happen to still be on the guest card from last week.” You part from his warmth so you can kiss him. He tastes of sugar, the bastard.

“Buttercream?” you place, peering over his shoulder. The sight of a round cake on the counter confirms your suspicions, and your heart swells. He would’ve had to bake and decorate it somewhere else, given that ovens are a luxury you do not possess in college hell. You picture him in his too-nice apartment, piping frosting in the familiar loops of your name. “Yes!” Teucer rushes back in (you note that he’s hiding his hands behind his back), while Ajax pokes your nose. “Big brother spent soooo long on it!”

You snicker deviously. “Really?”

“No reason to lie,” your boyfriend pouts, “Though I’m a bit hurt that you’re both trying to embarrass me, after I went to all this trouble..”

Teucer sticks his tongue out in disgust whenever you console Ajax with another kiss, likely wanting you both to hurry up your gross couple stuff so he can show you his gift. It’s presented to you ceremoniously, and you honor the splendor by pretending not to know that it’s definitely one of his toys. 

Your acting is award-winning, perfectly ignoring the obvious ridges and appendages of a Transformer. After tearing open the paper, you’re told that his name is Mr. Cyclops and you have to take good care of him - your sworn oath.

(Of course, Mr. Cyclops will mysteriously end up back in Teucer’s bedroom if you can count on your partner in crime to help you out. You and Ajax share a Look that hints at conspiracy.)

Speaking of your boyfriend, you don’t think he is governed by even one modicum of shame. During the Happy Birthday song, he performs with his whole chest, much to your chagrin. You think that Ajax lives the most for other people; even if it shines brightest whenever he teases and flusters. His camaraderie is most genuine when he’s this comfortable - when he knows that the present moment is all he needs to focus on. 

When did he start letting his guard down? You find yourself unable to recall among past memories of trudging to the local diner at ungodly hours, cramming for finals at the library, and responsibly talking him down from any antics that would surely get him in trouble.

(Maybe it was when you first held an ice pack over his eye, swollen shut from a punch he shouldn’t have taken just for the thrill of it. Your admonishment must have been jarring, because without any teasing remarks whatsoever, he promised that he’d dial it down. You remember lacing your fingers with his - and promptly threatening to “embalm him with jet fuel” if he ever got hurt again.)

Now your relationship has progressed to the point where spending your first birthday together feels natural. It feels so natural that shitty paper plates stacked high with slices of cake is enough to make you forget that you look like that one damp owl picture. Ajax, as per his boyfriend duties, has to remind you, of course.

“Bad day, huh?” 

You rest your chin on your fist, elbow supported by the armrest of your (comically small) couch. In retrospect, the fleeting illusion of a living room probably wasn’t worth it. Squished into a corner by a dozing Teucer and an awake Ajax, you yawn. “The worst, actually.”

“Well, we can’t be having that,” he tips your chin up to meet azure hues, “Maybe my gift will make you feel better.”

You blink. “Gift? You don’t have to, you know. The little guy’s was plenty enough for me.” 

Ajax spares a fond glance at his little brother, whose head is resting in his lap, legs thrown over the opposite armrest. “Nonsense! If you’re worried about me having bought out a whole store—”

“Don’t tell me you—”

“—Then you have nothing to fret over, Killjoy,” he laughs. “It’s pretty small.”

You don’t suppress the smile that breaks out on your face. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

“Hopefully not too hard.” He’s so annoying. You want to kiss him stupid.

From what you assume is from his back pocket, he removes a black silk pouch before dropping it into your awaiting hand. He was right about it being small, that’s for sure. Toying with the material of it for a moment, you pull open the bag delicately. Ajax tenses. “So.. whaddya think?”

Inside is a brass key that fits into your palm nicely. Of course you’ll love anything he gives you, but you’re unsure of what this could mean. Is it symbolic? Literal? You thumb over the grooves, unsure of what they could possibly unlock. Your head swims with a fuzzy feeling that you don’t entirely hate.

“What’s it to?”

“Our place.”

It’s perfect. You turn the object this way and that way, swallowing. “Giving me my own copy? You realize that you’re gonna be stuck with me crashing at yours way more often, right?”

Your boyfriend wraps a sturdy arm around your shoulder. “It’s not there for you to crash, it’s there for you to stay. I want you to move in with me.”

The following awed silence from you is clearly taken as something else, because Ajax backpedals in that flippant way that belies the panic he’s actually feeling. You need to tell him that it’s okay; that it’s more than okay.

“Of course you can say no, but the rest of your birthday plans kinda hinge on the possibility that you’ll make me the happiest man in the world and say yes,” he amends.

You pay no heed to his theatrics, because all you really need is him. Gross. “Duh, idiot. As much as it kills me to say this, I’d want nothing more.” Ajax glows. “Because you’re head over heels in love with me?”

“No, because I won’t have to drag my ass to the laundromat anymore.”

The offended sound he lets out is muffled with your mouth against his once more, and the tears that roll down your cheeks are obviously not because you’re ecstatic to be so involved in his life. What a preposterous idea.

His hands cradle your face, a little awkward because of the position, but he’s so warm. 

“Killjoy, I have something to confess,” he breathes, pulling back enough so you can see the faint constellation of freckles dotting his features. “You need to start packing immediately, or else the flowers will wilt before you’re able to see them.”

You sigh, happy-sniffling. “Flowers? Is a bouquet perhaps part of these ‘birthday plans’?”

Ajax dries one of his hands stained with your tears off onto his shirt before raking it through Teucer’s curls affectionately. He stirs but does not wake. “Try thirty!”

“Ajax..” The horror in your tone barely disguises the admiration.

“I love you too, Killjoy.”

That night, when you’re both alone in his apartment, tangled in each other’s arms, your overnight bag on the floor - you tell him the same. The few tears he sheds into your hair are also definitely not because you’re finally comfortable enough to say it back. Ridiculous.

taglist: @hanyi-writes, @karagatan02, @bfajax, @aphrodict, @nomazee

[shadowsingers-mate]

Fires of Fate (Elucien fic, Part 1) (ACOTAR Gift Exchange 2024)

A/N: This is the first part of the long series i wrote for the talented and lovely @cauldronblssd I'm your secret santa! Next parts are coming soon, i hope you like it!

Summary: Bound by fate, but driven by desire, Elain and Lucien are drawn together by a force neither can resist. In the quiet pull of their hearts, they will uncover a love and passion that transcends the bond and sets them both aflame.

The Winter Solstice celebration was in full swing, the manor alive with music and laughter, the warmth of the hearths battling the crisp chill that still lingered in the air. Tables groaned under the weight of decadent food and drink, while High Fae from across the courts mingled beneath the golden light of crystal chandeliers. Elain stood by one of the grand arched windows, her back to the frost-laced panes, watching the revelry unfold. The goblet in her hand was cool against her palm, its contents untouched, though her fingers clutched it as if it might steady her.

She wasn’t paying attention to Nesta’s pointed commentary about the Autumn Court delegation, wasn’t even listening to the music that swirled around her. No, her focus was elsewhere. On him.

Lucien stood across the room near the roaring hearth, the flickering firelight gilding him in molten gold. He was speaking with Kallias and Viviane, his red hair catching the light like freshly polished copper. The deep green velvet jacket he wore fit his broad shoulders and tapered down his lean frame as though it had been sculpted for him, the intricate golden embroidery along the cuffs and lapels catching the glow of the chandeliers above. Beneath, a pristine white shirt was undone just enough to reveal a teasing expanse of bronzed skin, the hollow of his throat, and the strong curve of his collarbone.

Elain’s breath hitched as her eyes drank him in. She told herself she was simply observing, simply admiring the way the firelight softened the scar that slashed across one side of his face. But her gaze betrayed her, slipping lower, to the line of his throat and the way the muscles there shifted as he tilted his head slightly to laugh at something Viviane had said.

And then he raised his glass.

Her heart stumbled as he brought the rim to his lips, his long fingers curling around the crystal. He took a slow sip, and her eyes followed the motion, helpless against the pull. The liquid caught the light as it passed his lips, and her breath stilled as she watched his throat work, watched the muscles of his neck flex and move. His Adam’s apple bobbed with each deliberate swallow, the firelight glinting off the faint sheen of sweat along his skin. The teasing glimpse of his chest beneath his undone collar felt almost indecent, though it was she who couldn’t stop staring.

Her pulse thundered, her stomach tightening with a heat that spread lower, deeper, until her thighs clenched of their own accord. A soft gasp escaped her, unbidden, as her abdomen throbbed with a need she didn’t dare name.

It wasn’t just him—it was the bond. That shimmering, unrelenting thread that connected them, that hummed between them like a second heartbeat. She could feel it now, stronger than ever, pulling her toward him, begging her to close the space between them.

And then, as if he had heard the plea she hadn’t spoken, Lucien turned his head. Slowly. Deliberately.

His mismatched eyes locked onto hers from across the room, molten and unyielding. The bond flared, hot and insistent, as his gaze swept over her. Thorough. As though he were cataloging every detail of her, from the flush staining her cheeks to the way her lips parted as their eyes met.

Her fingers tightened around her goblet, her entire body trembling under the weight of his attention. His lips, still glistening from the sip of wine, curved into the faintest, most devastating smirk. It was a look that felt like a caress, like the whisper of his fingers along her skin, a promise unspoken but loud enough to leave her breathless.

Lucien raised his glass again, the movement so slow, so confident, that it sent a shiver down her spine. He tilted it slightly, in acknowledgment. To her.

Her throat went dry, and she turned quickly, pretending to be engrossed in whatever Nesta was saying. But it was a lie. Her thoughts were a riot of heat and longing, of aching want that pulsed in time with the bond thrumming in her chest.

And she wasn’t alone.

Lucien's hand clenched on his glass, his jaw flexing as he forced himself to look away from her. He felt her just as strongly as she felt him, the bond tugging, demanding he close the space between them, demanding he take what was his. But he didn’t move. He wouldn’t.

Still, his heart pounded against his ribs, his blood hot and restless as he fought the pull. It was a losing battle—he knew it, and judging by the way she’d looked at him, she knew it, too.

Flushed and breathless, Elain excused herself, murmuring a half-hearted excuse as she hurried from the crowded hall.

Lucien’s eyes tracked her departure, though he made no move. He remained where he was, his body taut as a bowstring, trying to temper the surge of emotions that roared through the bond. Her unease, her nervousness—it wasn’t his to fix, not unless she wanted it to be.

But then the bond shifted—softened. A quiet hum of something like… hope? Or invitation.

Lucien set down his drink, murmured an excuse to Kalias and strode towards the doors Elain had disappeared through.

Tonight, they were only spectators in the dance the fate had choreographed for them. But the night was young, and Solstice had always been a time for gifts. For giving. And for taking.

[gothic-thoughts]

Date Night

(IM IN DISTRESS)

Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader Fluff

DatingAU, DomesticAU

CW: disrespectful waiter, jealous Nanami, Nanami spoiling you(😫)

Word Count: 1043

The elevator doors open, anticlimactically releasing a few people before revealing my beautiful date. She was slightly taller now, courtesy of the blue heels that matched her knee-length dress. My lips parted slightly, knees weakening as she looked up from her watch, displaying the purple lipstick that compliments her bracelet. She grins brightly and strolls out, readjusting the purse strap on her shoulder.

"(Y/n)...you...."

"Take a picture, Kento." (Y/n) giggles, "It'll last longer."

"I was considering it," I chuckle, "I was just wondering how you manage to look so beautiful on every date we've been on."

"Black girl magic."

"Well, tonight, I have some magic of my own."

I take out a small box and open it, displaying the golden necklace I bought; my way of making our relationship more official despite it only being our 2nd date. She gasps, mouth remaining open as she gently takes the box and pulls out the chain, finding an elliptical pendant with "Darling" engraved in tiny diamonds.

"Kento, oh my god." She all but whispers, "Already? I mean, you don't think--"

"It's too soon?" I finish, gently taking the necklace to put it on her, "No, I don't."

"I mean, I'm not denying but more gifts? I feel bad, you already gave me flowers on our last date and we're at another fancy restaurant."

"Who said pretty women stop getting pretty things?" I wink, holding out my arm for her, "Shall we?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After ordering, the waiter gently sets (Y/n)'s food down with a wink in her direction before setting mine down more roughly. I raise my eyebrow at him as he walks away but ultimately refocus on the beautiful woman before me, copper skin glowing in the warm light of the place when he returns with a bottle of wine. 

"More wine, beautiful?"

(Y/n) chuckles, caught off guard, "Uh, yes, thank you."

He looked her in her eyes as he slowly poured the crimson liquid into the stemmed glass, a flirtatious smirk was very much present on his lips before fading to a grimace when he reluctantly filled my glass. I'm noticing a pattern. Am I inconveniencing him? I shake my head from my thoughts again and sip my wine, watching (Y/n) as she blissfully took another bite.

I smile softly, “Seems like you're enjoying yourself."

"It's so good." She groans, throwing her head back slightly, “I heard the food was delicious here, but I never had it."

"I know, my love. I have pages and pages of texts with you gushing about it." I chuckle, "That's why I scheduled a reservation."

"But I never thought you would, much less for a 2nd date." She looks at me with awe, lowering her fork, "Thank you so much; you didn't have to do this.”

“No need to thank me, love. All you have to do is ask."

"But I didn't even ask, Ken."

"Then I guess you don't have to ask." I wink, "Maybe I would've spoiled you like this anyway."

"On our 2nd date?"

"This could be our 10th date and that wouldn't stop me from treating you like the royalty you are."

The upper portion of her cheeks pools with dark red as she plays with her necklace. She's just so....god I hope I don't get a call. After talking and laughing with her for about half an hour, our bold server returned and placed a platter of slices of various cakes in between our empty plates. Oh great. Maybe I'm just being a bit jealous. How could I already be acting like this when we met only a month ago? Maybe cuz I know I could be called away for a damn curse at any minute.

"Uh..." (Y/n) pointed to the cakes, "We didn't order this."

He winks at her yet again, "It's on the house, ma'am." 

"Oh..." She looks at me worriedly, "Are you s--?"

"No, it's fine, gorgeous. Thank you, my date and I appreciate it. We'll take the check now though."

"Sure."

And another eye-roll. I mean, it's only natural for him to stare; she's the most stunning person in here. But I don't like him flirting with her like I'm not sitting right here. I think his nickname even made her uncomfortable. I look up at her to read her face only to see her take a bite of strawberry-topped cake with a satisfied moan. I smile when noticing the frosting at the corners of her mouth, but it fades when the waiter takes out a napkin.

As he reaches for her face, I stand abruptly and delicately wipe away the frosting at the edge of her mouth and I wink at her just to see those chubby cheeks flush for me. I glare at the waiter as I set the money on the check before firmly taking my date's hand and quickly guiding her out the restaurant. In the parking lot, she tugged on my arm forcing me to stop walking and look at her.

"Ken, I'm alright."

"I'm sorry, he was going to touch you and I just...You noticed, right?"

"Yeah, at first I thought he was being sweet but then he was doing a little too much. Especially with all the winks and stuff."

"He couldn't take his eyes off you for more than a second the whole time."

"Ken--"

"And believe me, I know I've done the same but it's different. Of course, I would spend as much time as possible focusing on my date."

She steps closer, "Nanami...."

"But when I do it, I look with awe at how charming you are. The worst part about it was he was so obvious. It was like he trying to pretend I wasn't there."

(Y/n) grabs my tie, and my eyes widen as her lips softly link with mine. She makes me moan in surprise when she tugs downward, pulling me closer to her shorter stature to deepen the kiss. My hands rest on her waist before I slide up the left one up her back to hold the back of her neck before she pulled away with a smile.

"I...I'm...rambling."

"I know, that's why I shut you up."

"I'm sorry, jealousy's not something that usually consumes me like that."

"You wanna...." She walks her fingers up my chest, "Go somewhere reserved?"

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, "I think some alone time could clear my head."

"You think it's quieter at my place or yours?"

"Mine."

[retrospacejelly]

A Western Vendetta

Pairing: Ex-outlaw!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: A look into Miguel’s past, and why he was given the title, El ángel vengador.

Warnings: Angst, Guns, Mentions of the devil’s tango, typical cowboy things, language, death/murder, gore, alcohol

BEFORE YOU READ: This chapter is very dark! It is a huge contrast from the last two chapters so please read with caution!

Part: 2 ½ /?

Part: 1, 2, 2 ½ , 3

Not proofread

A/N: I had this idea brewing for a while, and character AI helped push the plot!  (Thank you Monstera for letting me expand on the plot!)

Reach out if you want to be on my taglist!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Red. Red was all he could see.

“Mamá…? Papá…?”

A young Miguel, only eighteen, had just finished work for some extended family in another town. He was delighted to be back home. 

“Mamá, Papá?!”

He runs through the house, stopping suddenly at the sight before him.

In front of his eyes, the bodies of his parents lay lifeless on the parlor floor. The stench of iron flooded his nose, and his stomach churned. He looked around. Except for a tossed chair, nothing seemed to be out of place.

-------------------------

Miguel stuck the shovel into the cold dirt, makeshift headstones staring back at him. Reciting a quiet prayer, he turns to make his way back into the house. 

He had walked throughout the house, looking for anything of value that might be missing. 

Nothing.

Money that was kept in his father’s nightstand and safe was untouched. His mother’s jewelry was still organized in her cedar jewelry box; an anniversary gift from his father. 

When he opened her jewelry box, he took her beaded rosary and a copper ring. He smiled sadly at the copper ring. Shoving them into his vest pocket along with some money, he made his way to the parlor.

Whoever had done this was going to pay. Whoever had done this would meet the wrath of Miguel O’Hara. 

Miguel snatched his father’s trusty pistol from its spot on the mantlepiece. As he made his way to the front door, he slipped on his cowboy hat and set off for the town. 

-------------------------

He first made his way to the saloon, its bright and cheery atmosphere a stark contrast from himself. He quietly made his way to the bar, ordering a whiskey. 

He needed to come up with some sort of plan. He couldn’t just go around asking people if they’d seen any suspicious folk. He didn’t even know who he was looking for.

His thoughts were cut short by the sound of loud, boisterous laughter. Moving his head to the side, he noticed two seemingly drunk men four seats down from him. He shook his head, annoyed.

“...Yea, that bitch squealed like a damn pig, I tell ya! Had it comin’ too.”

Miguel’s attention was piqued.

“Don’t ya…don’t ya think killin’ ‘er was a bit much, though, Butch?” his friend asked.

The man named Butch scowled at his friend. “Hell nah! She made a damn fool ‘outta me when she turned me down at the market. I’m fuckin’,” he hiccups, “Fuckin’ Butch Wyatt. And no one makes a fool ‘outta me!”

Butch slams his glass down. “Planned on jus’ killin’ ‘er and leavin’ the body for ‘er husband to see. But that Bottom-Feeder came home early. Had to kill ‘im too.”

His friend tries to calm Butch down, not wanting to cause a bigger scene. But Miguel had heard. Oh, he heard well. He had to set his now empty glass down so as to not shatter it with his hand.

He watched as they made their way out of the saloon, swaying drunkenly out the doors. They wouldn’t make it far. 

After a couple of minutes, he stood from his seat, placing some coins down by his glass. Nobody seemed to notice as he made his exit.

The street was silent save for the drunken laughter of the two men and Miguel’s heavy footfalls following behind them. 

He watches as they turn into an alleyway, and speeds up his pace. His blood starts to pump faster as he closes in on the two. He slips the gun from its holster and calls out to them. 

“Hey, Bastardos.”

They turn around, their eyes slowly trailing up to his own.

“Whatdya jus’ call me…?” Butch blurts out, reaching for his gun. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Senor,” Miguel answers, his dead eyes trained on Butch. Butch’s friend tugs his arm, a look of dread on his face. “C’mon, now Butch, you don’t know who he is?” he asks.

Butch looks over to his friend. “Am I supposed to know who he is, Casey?”. Casey leans in. “That’s Miguel O’Hara, I’ve seen ‘im doin’ work around town…”.

Butch lets out a laugh. “O’Hara?! Yer’ the bitch’s son?! What? Come ‘ere to seek revenge, boy? It’s two against one, ya know.”

Miguel doesn’t respond.

“Yer’ mother was a fuckin’ whore. When I pointed that gun at ‘er, boy was she-”

“Squealin’ like a pig. Yea, I got that.” 

The sound of a gunshot rings throughout the alley, Butch’s body slumping to the ground. And before he knows it, he aims at Casey and shoots.

-------------------------

The sun had risen just above the hills, and roosters crowed from their perches. 

The Mayor’s wife was taking her usual morning walk with her mutt, Captain, humming happily to herself. She always awoke before the town to get a peaceful walk in.

She sees something hanging from the square’s stone statue (the statue being her husband of course). The sun blinds her vision of the statue as she squints to get a better look.

She walks closer, bringing her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun.

And then.

“AAAAAAAH!”

Her shrill scream alerts the homes nearby. She drops Captain’s leash as she covers her mouth, sobs racking her body.

Joshua, the storekeeper’s son is the first to stand by the wife’s side. When he looks at the statue, he retches. 

As more and more townsfolk gather in the square all hell breaks loose. Shouts of fear and surprise fill the air but are soon quieted down as the Mayor makes his way through the crowd.

Looking up, he gasps, horrified.

There, hanging from the Statue’s arm were the mangled corpses of Butch Wyatt and Casey Brown. 

And as Miguel stands at the top of a hill overlooking the town, mounted on a stolen horse, he can’t help but smirk as one of the residents shouts, “El ángel vengador!”

From that day forward, Miguel O'Hara would venture from town to town seeking retribution on other outlaws. Word spread fast of an Avenging Angel making its way throughout the West.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the people of Miguel’s hometown to figure out just who this Avenging Angel was. Word of El ángel vengador’s identity spread even faster and soon wanted posters of Miguel O’Hara were posted on every surface throughout every town.

Some argued that  El ángel vengador was helping towns that were being terrorized by outlaws while others argued that vigilantes had no place to go around killing people. 

As the years passed, Miguel made a realization that killing outlaws wouldn’t bring his parents back and would only make the reward for his head higher. 

-------------------------

As he sat on the small bed in Y/N’s guest room, fiddling with his mother’s rosary, he thought to himself.

It had been a decade since the end of his murders, and five years more since the death of his parents. Even after all these years, he is still considered a wanted man, although the hunt for him has simmered drastically.

He couldn’t help as a tear escaped his eye, bringing the rosary up to his lips. 

Tomorrow would mark the anniversary of his parents' deaths.

______________________________________________________________

This was a dark segment! A huge contrast from the previous chapter, I know. There might be some confusion, so here’s some clarification on age:

Miguel is around 33 when he meets Y/N. His parents were murdered 15 years ago, but he quit his murders 10 years ago.

Y/N is around 26. Her ex-husband cheated on her when they were both 21. 

______________________________________________________________

Reach out if you want to be on my taglist!

@codenameredkrystalmatrix @slushycoookie

[lailoken]

I was given this neat gift a while back, made by a metallurgist experimenting with different alloy recipes. He claimed that it was a unique amalgam of copper, silver, tin, and gold that he experimented with, but which ultimately didn't fit what he was hoping for. There's also an old glass bead set into it, though he didn't specify why.

[alicehattera03]

I want to see Cale being a black-bellied saint...

He always acts kind to the believers that come to the churches he frequents, giving out blessings and warm words freely- but when the sun sets and the stained glass windows emanate light from the moon, Cale's beautiful smile dwindles until it's no more and a dreadful scowl replaces it.

He throws away the white veil upon his head, his shining silver hair, the signature shade of holy power, dyed a bright crimson under a particular window where the hero vanquishes the demon king. He clutches the donation box, rummaging through the countless copper coins and manages to find the paltry gold that was gifted. He shoves them into his pocket.

Raking a hand through his hair, a sneer paints onto his face as he crosses his legs, and raises a glass of whiskey to the marble statue of the goddess he sat in front of. "Goddess, pray tell- until when do I have to do this shit?" and laughs hopelessly in the empty church as no answer comes.

His laughter fades and he nods as if he's heard something. "I have to grow my reputation even more? Okay." Coincidentally, he spots an entourage of cloaked people the next day and he eyes the gold that sparkles here and there. Goddess- he hides a foul grin as he approaches- you've brought my quarry to me.

[copperproduct]

When to Choose a Copper Carafe Over Other Drinkware Options

29NOV

In a world full of modern drinkware options, from glass and stainless steel to plastic and ceramic, the timeless allure of copper drinkware stands out. Among these, copper carafes hold a special place for their functionality, health benefits, and aesthetic appeal. But when exactly should you choose a copper carafe over other options? Let’s delve into the scenarios where a copper carafe is a superior choice and why it might just become your favorite piece of drinkware.

When Health is a Priority

Copper carafes offer unique health benefits, thanks to the oligodynamic properties of copper. Copper has natural antimicrobial qualities that help purify water by eliminating harmful bacteria and impurities. When water is stored in a copper carafe for 6–8 hours, it becomes infused with trace amounts of copper, which:

Supports the immune system

Promotes better digestion

Enhances skin health If you want to incorporate small, consistent doses of this essential mineral into your daily routine, a copper carafe is the ideal choice.

For a Sustainable Lifestyle

Switching to eco-friendly products is a significant step toward sustainable living. Copper carafes are a great alternative to plastic drinkware, which contributes to pollution. Copper is 100% recyclable and long-lasting, making it a sustainable and responsible choice for environmentally conscious individuals.

When You Value Style and Elegance

Copper drinkware is functional and a statement piece for your home. A copper carafe’s warm, reflective surface adds an elegant touch to any dining table or kitchen counter. Whether you are hosting guests or enjoying a quiet meal, a copper carafe elevates the overall aesthetic.

During Hot Summers

Copper carafes help keep water cool naturally, especially during the sweltering summer months. Unlike plastic or glass bottles that may absorb heat, copper remains cooler, offering a refreshing drinking experience without requiring refrigeration.

When Avoiding Toxins

Modern drinkware, such as plastic bottles or containers, may leach harmful chemicals like BPA into your drinks. By choosing a copper carafe, you ensure a toxin-free hydration solution, giving you peace of mind about what you’re consuming.

For Ayurvedic Benefits

According to Ayurveda, drinking water stored in copper vessels helps balance the three doshas—Vata, Pitta, and Kapha. This balance leads to better overall health and well-being. If you follow or are intrigued by Ayurvedic principles, a copper carafe can seamlessly integrate into your wellness routine.

When You Want a Durable Option

Copper carafes are robust and built to last. Unlike glass drinkware, which is prone to breakage, or plastic, which can degrade over time, a well-maintained copper carafe can last for decades. Its durability makes it a cost-effective investment in the long run.

How to Maintain Your Copper Carafe

To enjoy all the benefits of a copper carafe, proper maintenance is essential. Here are a few tips:

Clean it regularly with a mixture of lemon juice and salt or vinegar to retain its shine.

Avoid using abrasive scrubbers to prevent scratches.

Store water in the carafe overnight to allow the copper ions to infuse fully.

Choosing a copper carafe is more than just a drinkware decision; it’s an investment in your health, lifestyle, and the environment. Whether you’re seeking health benefits, timeless elegance, or sustainability, a copper carafe ticks all the boxes.

So, the next time you’re looking to upgrade your drinkware collection, consider a copper carafe from Ecozone Lifestyle. It’s not just a vessel—it’s a lifestyle statement.

[3rdeyeblaque]

Today we venerate Hoodoo Saint Harriet Ross Tubman aka Black Moses on the 110th anniversary of her passing🕊

Whew! A legendary Freedom Fighter, Mama Moses wore many decorated crowns as a mammoth Abolitionist, chief Conductor on the Underground Railroad, an expert Hunte and Lumberjack, a Nurse, an armed scout & spy for the Union Army during the Civil War - becoming the 1st Woman to ever spearhead an armed military assault. Later, she opened her door to the elderly, sick, & disabled, and advocated for them until her death.

Born Araminta "Minty" Ross as the middle child of 9 siblings to enslaved parents on a plantation in Dorchester County, MD, she suffered a massive blow to the head that would spur a lifetime of seizures, headaches, deep slumbers, & visions. She went on to marry a "Free" man by the surname of Tubman & took on her mother's first given name, "Harriet". In 1849, her husband, parents, & siblings were set to be split up & sold off. Under the cover of darkness, she fled the plantation solo on foot and followed the North Star to escape the jaws of slavery by way of Philadelphia, PA. She'd survive13-19 rescue missions back into the Antebellum South, liberating over 300 souls, as the most infamous Conductor on the Underground Railroad who, over the span of a decade, had "never lost a single passenger", which dubbed her the nickname, "Moses". The bounty for her life maxed out at $40K. Freedom wasn't free & Mama Moses never hesitated to remind her passengers of that. She carried herbs to silence a crying baby and pulled a gun on any cowardly man who might give away their position.

"You'll be Free or Die. " - Mama Moses to her passengers on the Underground Railroad.

Venerated as a Hoodoo Saint to many, Mama Moses was a Seer, a Clairvoyant Dreamer, Dream Interpreter, a Revolutionary Conjurer Woman & Rootworker - born to parents of the same cloth. She received Divine messages & Ancestral knowledge/wisedom through prophetic visions & dreams. Mama Moses proudly attributed her unparalleled death defying success to her Divine guidance, Conjure, Rootwork, intuitive gifts & her faithful willingness to trust/follow them.

Folks have a tendency to grossly undermine, if not outright ignore, the significant pillars that Hoodoo Cosmology, Religion, & Tradition played in her life and in her fight for freedom. Recently, archeologists uncovered her "spirit cache" at her family's home in Maryland; these were some of the Blackbelt Hoodoo staples of her time including: glass bottles - for protection against evil spirits, a figurine made it iron nails - possibly a something akin to an Nkisi, a copper button, perfume bottle topper, and other red & blue items.

Mama Moses transitioned peaceful & free at her home/on her land in Auburn, NY where she is rests at the cemetery in Auburn, NY. She is still expected to be immortalized on the $20 bill USD, however that promise has yet to be met.

We pour libations & give Mama Moses her 💐 for her bravery & selfless service. May she bless the elderly, disabled, young, women, & Workers who seek/fight for freedom.

Offering suggestions: Milk, Apples, & Orange flowers

🌟 FINAL copies of The2023 Hoodoo's Calendar are available for purchase (once sold out, that's it)! Subscribe to the official e-newsletter for the latest updates & exclusive content access. https://thehoodoocalendar.square.site 🌟  

[greenhousethree]

Withered 🪴

April Prompt 25 for @hinnymicrofic. (606 words — sort of micro?)

It’s a housewarming gift for them both, perched on the credenza in their first flat once her rookie contract is up. Neville’s wrapped a bow around the pot, rhapsodizes over its soothing properties: It’s heralded as a rare treasure in the mountains of Ecuador. 

Two spindly stalks, reaching from dark soil like outstretched hands. Colorful, waxy leaves that move as though breathing.

Spring warms to summer amid unpacking, Euro Cup qualifiers blaring from the wireless, family stopping in to share a pint and admire their view from the balcony. The branches dance animatedly among raucous cheers and clinking bottles when England secures third rank. The hum of London presses against the windows. 

She buys a copper watering can. Most days, she remembers to check the soil’s dampness. Fills vases with flowers, burns fewer meals on the stove. Cleans to prepare for Teddy’s first stay, realizes her mistake among sticky handprints and biscuits crushed into the rug.

Ron brings in a Muggle telly amid her peals of laughter. They set it up, and the four watch Notting Hill that night. Later, she leaves the room halfway through Fight Club. The branches shudder.

The leaves tremble with excitement when an owl brings her first full-time contract: three years, better pay. She takes an interview with Quidditch Weekly from their living room while he’s at work.

July brings long days and longer nights, giggling returns from the pubs and a lopsided cake she’s made him. Their party guests file out and then he’s kissing her neck, pressing her against the wall.

The leaves along the street change color. The ones inside are unaffected. It’s quiet most days; he departs before the sun’s fully risen, she rushes off for practice with toast and coffee. A week into preseason, she takes another interview, Witch Weekly this time. He’s away six days. Arrives late, holds her close on the sofa until dawn. 

Late nights, candles burning low on the desk. He brings work home, pores over evidence, accepts mugs of tea. She kisses his forehead, hands find his shoulders. Anxiety undulates from the stem through the branches.

He falls asleep on the sofa. When she wakes him, the curse narrowly misses the plant, singes a hole in the wall.

Time together grows sparse. She travels for matches, he leads his first mission abroad. She loses, he fails. The leaves grow paler, stems yellowing in their absence.

In winter, a week on the sofa with a concussion and the clanging radiator. She grows restless, waters it plenty, buys a bigger pot.

Fireside chats with Luna over glasses of pinot noir, secrets spilled. He’s not sleeping. She’s worried this case is hitting too close. Ron’s thinking of buying a ring.

They forget to put up a tree, and Andromeda chastises them. Next morning he brings one home, wet from sleet, needles everywhere. She sips mulled wine and he lifts Teddy to add the star. Ties a bow around a toy broomstick.

It’s mid-January when they notice. She’s up 3-1 on away matches, he’s back from St. Mungo’s with a case file to close out. Crisp leaves scattered around the pot, withered stems and cracked soil. He suggests they consult Neville. She jokes that she’ll make a terrible mother, and he’s quiet.

Spring brings the chance to have a better year. Playoffs, holidays planned for the summer, an engagement party with the pop of champagne. She makes him dance in the living room one night, a song from Percy’s wedding, pulling him back to the moment, leaving the war behind. 

Outside the window, the tips of branches bud with promises of green.

🌱

[birgittesilverbae]

Spiders need hunting strategies. Beatrice can't get the thought out of her head. All the data laid out in front of her is telling her that she's a spider, and spiders need to hunt.

She's been sitting in her lab for hours poring over blood samples she's drawn from herself. The facility was a thirteenth birthday gift from her parents, one of the plentiful moments in which they'd replaced any show of emotion with a flagrant display of wealth. They hadn't seen her at all that day (or any birthday since her seventh, come to think of it). Instead, she'd woken up to the key beside her bed and the location entered into her phone. Apparently it had been time for her to stop almost setting the house on fire.

The test tubes in front of her are filled with blue­-green blood, oxidized copper taking the place of oxidized iron. Even the smell is different, only faintly so but different all the same. She picks up a tube that's gone through a cycle in the centrifuge and sighs, her hand grasping tight around the glass. She supposes she's lucky that she is able to sequester her scientific and personal views, because the fact that she just drew blood that so closely resembles a spider's from a human vein is interesting, but the fact that she just drew it from her own arm should probably terrify her.

Her fingers tighten on the test tube, and she tries to calm her breathing. Human vein, human vein, just a human. The glass shatters in her hand, shards piercing her palm, and that sickly­ sweet scent pervades the air. Blue­-green oozes from the punctures as she pulls pieces from her skin, the wounds knitting back together as she watches in shock.

As the cuts heal, the wall between scientific and personal is torn down. Soon all she's left with is broken glassware and bloody skin, and the knowledge that everything has changed.

[ravendruid]

Giving Gifts

Vex’ahlia has never loved the warmth of the sun more than she does as the heels of her boots clack on the sidewalk and the hem of her dress rustles the ground. It’s not rare to have bright, sunny days with light blue skies in Whitestone, but being so far north in the continent of Tal’Dorei, the cold is almost always a given, even in the summer, and the sun rays aren’t always warm enough to tinge anyone’s cheeks pink. Because Percival has spent the entire week deep in meetings to overlook the safety and development of Whitestone, Vex finds herself bored to death on several occasions since the clerics forbade her from setting foot in the meeting room with her watermelon-sized belly, lest she become too stressed and give birth too early. Instead of wasting away in the library, Vex has taken to spending the days taking short strolls through the castle gardens, admiring the beautiful flowers in bloom this time of the year and the intoxicating smell of roses in the air that, more often than not, bring back the nausea she felt during her first trimester. Some days she descends the long, winding path down to the city proper, where she peruses stores and establishments, stops to share words with her neighbors, and allows her legs to extend, always in the company of her fearless bear, Trinket.

During one of those strolls amongst the streets of Whitestone, Vex’ahlia finds herself at the window of a boutique with many pretty ballgowns on display (not that any of them would fit her current state). Something within her wills her to walk inside the small shop, so Vex asks Trinket to stay while a kind lady greets her. The shop isn’t massive—it is a smaller town, after all—but several mannequins wearing different types and colors of dresses adorn the room. Further back, just slightly past the counter, is a small section of male suits that Vex ponders over for a moment. Percy doesn’t usually shop for clothes at the boutique since the family has their own tailor, so Vex doesn’t spend too much time browsing them, but she has to admit a few of the suits would look fantastic on her husband. 

Just as Vex is turning to leave, something catches her eye at the counter. She feels herself being pulled towards a glass display case with a few pieces of jewelry inside, but what piques her curiosity is a pair of round silver cufflinks with a royal blue circle in the middle and a bear engraved. They remind her of Trinket, and Vex knows they will look perfect on the new jacket she just got Percy last week. Vex’ahlia buys the cufflinks without effort, and the lady places them in a small brown envelope that Vax keeps close to her heart—quite literally, as she somehow stuffs it in her cleavage with a wink. 

Vex’ahlia doesn’t dwell further in the city, so Trinket trots at her side as they make their way back to the castle. Excitement builds up inside her like a balloon, and she can’t wipe the smile on her face imagining Percy’s reaction to her impromptu gift. Vex won’t tell her husband how much she paid for the cufflinks, not because he would scold her for spending the money, but because she knows he will tease her until the end of the world about how she never bargains when it concerns him. As much as Vex has tried telling Percy that it feels wrong to take from people who have had so much taken away from them already, they both know she would not hesitate to bargain for something for herself. 

You are worth every copper, dear. Percy always tells her with that soft voice that drives her insane. So are you, darling. Vex always replies in the same manner. They still have a long path to walk, but she knows in her heart that they will both get there one day, together, as it is their wont.

—

Percival de Rolo is not the same man that once walked these long hallways. At this moment, he is an exhausted man whose mind swirls with thoughts, plans, and formulas for myriad contraptions and necessities to keep the city and its people safe. The back-to-back meetings have drained his resources, but he knows they are necessary since the Chamber has been discussing and planning the expansion of Whitestone. But all Percy—as his friends call him—can think about is his wife and her rounded belly that still grows larger as months go by. Percy wants to advance as much work as possible before the baby arrives because once the little one is screaming their lungs out, Percy has no intention of spending every waking moment surrounded by work. It pains him, though, not to be able to spend time with Vex’ahlia. They both know it’s for the best, but Percy’s guilt is still heavy on his conscience. 

By some miracle of a god Percy doesn’t care for, one of the town developers he was supposed to meet that morning fell ill, which means he now has a free morning with plenty of time to work on the project he has been keeping a secret from Vex. He sneaks into the basement area—not that he needs to since he knows Vex is probably out in the gardens or strolling through town like the free bird she is—and locks himself in his workshop. The project is almost done. If Percy pushes through during lunch hours, he should be able to have it finished by nightfall if no one bothers him. Just in time.

With a victorious smile on his face and anticipation in his heart, Percy sets out to work, grabbing his tools and moving the large, old sheet from where it hides his most secret possession. He pauses for a second to admire his handiwork: it’s not perfect, but he built it himself. Percy is not a carpenter by any means, preferring to work with metals and gears, but Keyleth helped him during a few of her visits to Whitestone, and Pike found him some books he could read about woodworking. 

The polished wooden crib sits in the corner, its locking mechanism laughing at Percy’s face. He never once thought that he would be bested by a mechanical part of all things, especially not after building a wooden crib with his hands, but the pesky contraption refuses to do what it is meant to do.

As he starts working on the mechanism, Percy remembers the day a solution to another crib-related problem fell at his feet, quite literally. It happened at the beginning of the pregnancy, shortly after they found out about it when Percy and Vex were out for a stroll in the center square of Whitestone. The city wasn’t fully healed yet, a few looming signs of the Briarwoods still crept around the darkest alleys, but everyone was working to repair that. The couple had paused underneath the rebirthed golden canopy of the Sun Tree, taking in the sight of its beautiful colors, when a branch fell at their feet. It was unusual—one might say rare—for the tree to lose limbs, considering its significance and the divine energy radiating from it. Vex’ahlia saw it as a sign of Pelor, an offering to the couple, Percy, not so much. 

“Tree branches fall all the time,” Percy had tried to argue.

“But this is the Sun Tree, darling. This tree was planted by Pelor,” Vex had tried to counter-argument. 

They didn’t reach a consensus on the matter. Instead, Percy called for Keyleth to check in with the Sun Tree to be sure Delilah’s influence was completely gone (or that the spinning orb of death underneath the Sun Tree wasn’t the cause of losing limbs). It was only after her confirmation that the branch had indeed been a gift to the couple and the upcoming heir that Percy relaxed. After all, it was helpful having a friend who could talk to plants.

In the present, Percy’s hand brushes the slightly different colored wood of the headboard where the de Rolo crest was carved. His eyes glint with pride at being able to incorporate such an amazing gift into the crib, and while he doesn’t care for the gods, he knows this baby is a blessing of one. But there is no time to lose. Percy has a crib to finish if he wants to eat supper with his wife.  

—

“How was your day, darling?” Vex’ahlia asks, removing the few pieces of jewelry she bothers to put on each morning. 

“Uneventful,” Percy replies with a smile. “And yours, dear?”

“Oh, you know. Boring as usual.”

“Well,” Percy stands behind Vex, looking at her reflection in the mirror. He presses a soft kiss to the top of her head and helps her undo her braid with gentle movements. “Soon enough, that won’t be a problem any longer.”

Vex’ahlia snorts and looks at the little wooden box on her vanity. She had hidden the cufflinks inside it earlier that afternoon, waiting for this exact moment to present them to her husband.

“Percival, darling.”

“Yes, dear?” Percy’s eyes meet Vex’ahlia’s in the mirror. Her face is radiant, and her skin is smooth and clear, with no eye bags, dark circles, or imperfections. Vex’ahlia is a beauty beyond compare to Percy’s eyes, which makes it even harder for the man to see himself reflected right next to her. His face is paler than usual, thanks to not getting much sun, his hair is in a disarray of knots that needs to be cut urgently, and the round, gold spectacles barely do anything to cover the dark circles underneath his eyes from not getting enough sleep. Overall, Percy’s face is just an expression of exhaustion.

“I have a gift for you.”

“A gift? For me?” Percy stands straight behind his wife. He watches her movements as she opens the small wooden box in front of her and picks up something he can’t see just yet. 

“Here,” Vex turns in her chair, sliding her legs to the side. Percy kneels in front of her—Oh, the sight of her husband on his knees in front of her makes her legs tremble—and waits patiently for her to extend her closed fist to his open, expectant hands. 

“Vex’ahlia,” Percy brings a cufflink close to his glasses, smiling at the little carved bear. “These are beautiful, darling. Thank you.” He moves closer, placing a soft hand on one of her knees so he can kiss her.

“I happen to have a gift for you as well,” He chuckles. Vex’ahlia arches an eyebrow in amusement. Giving each other gifts for no apparent reason is common for them, but both having the same idea at the same time is usually rare. 

“Come,” Percy gets on his feet and offers a hand that Vex gladly takes. Suspicion builds in Vex as Percy leads her to the wooden door connecting their bedroom to the nursery. 

At first glance, the room is still the same, covered in darkness in its mostly unfinished state, but then Percy lights a candle nearby—more for his vision’s sake than Vex’s—and she sees it more clearly. In one corner of the room sits a wooden crib, roughly made with curves and notches. 

“Percival, did you make this?” Vex asks, lightly brushing her fingers on the object. Percival standing bashfully behind her is all the answer she needs. “It’s beautiful, darling. It must have taken you so long.”

“Ah, yes. I have indeed poured many hours into it,” Percy replies, wrapping his arms around her and holding her large belly. The relief is instantaneous, and Vex can’t hold in the sigh at the weight difference. 

“Look here,” Percival momentarily removes one hand to point at the part of the crib with the different kinds of wood.

Vex’ahlia leans in and lets out a gasp as the flickering light of the flame reveals the de Rolo crest. But not just that. The wood tone is different and almost looks like its knots and grains shimmer in gold hues by the light. It can’t be.

“Darling is this—”

“Yes. The Sun Tree branch.”

Vex’ahlia spins in her husband’s arms, her hands cradling his stubbled cheeks, and she smiles brighter than the moonlight coming in from the opened curtain.

“It’s beautiful, darling. I love it so much.”

“It’s the least I could do for them,” Percy looks down at the bump between them with fondness in his eyes. 

“They will love it just as much as I do.”

No matter how long it has passed, how many kisses they have traded, whenever Vex kisses Percy, he still feels the same electricity he felt the first time they kissed. Her lips are still the same softness and still taste like honey. 

“We should go to bed, darling,” Vex says, holding Percy’s hand and leaving the nursery behind.

“We should,” Percy replies, blowing out the candle and closing the door. 

The cufflinks aren’t the first gift Vex’ahlia offers Percival—the first gift was given to him years ago in a dark room far beneath the castle—nor are they the last. For as long as they are together—whatever many years Percival has left on him—there will be many gifts waiting for him, either to celebrate special occasions or just because. The same can be said for Vex’ahlia. Even after Percy’s body is one with the earth of Exandria, he will still find a way to give his wife the most beautiful, touching gifts she has ever received, either in the form of fond memories and smiles or of their children running and laughing around the castle, reminding Vex of Percival’s love for her and their family.

[Read it on AO3]

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Day 2 | Prompt: Cold without mercy

Pairing: Tevildo (non-bestial form) x Tinúviel 

Themes: Violence | Dark 

Warnings: Mention of nudity | Blood | Weapons use | Physical violence | Loss of tongue | Torture | Thralldom

Word count: 600+ words

Summary: Tinúviel is brought to Tevildo. She tries to sing and win freedom for her and Beren. 

Also available on AO3

Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume

Her song, sweet and enchanting and potent, wove a spell of silence, of wonder, of indescribable sorrow and beauty. The walls around her shook as if in fear. The earth beneath her feet trembled. Tinúviel sang still, bold and unafraid, her gaze on Beren first, then Tevildo, then Beren, then Tevildo again. 

His attendants yawned and closed their eyes. Others slumbered where they fell. Tevildo did not sleep. He rose to his feet and then rose again, this time changing, his bones cracking and transforming, his form taking the shape of a being as fair as the Blessed Ones, no less. Tinúviel hesitated. Her song faltered. Never before had she seen a lord in such a state of undress walking toward her, utterly entranced. Tevildo swayed, his eyes like glass. It is as if he is under her spell.

"Whatever you desire, mistress," he proposed, "I will gladly offer."

Tinúviel smiled and silently exulted in her victory. Beren would be free, and their nightmare would soon end.

If only she remembered her mother’s warning to never savor triumph until she had it firmly in her hand. Tevildo reached her, his feet bare against the floor. So lost was she in her singing and impending victory that she did not see the hand that rose and struck her without warning. The blow was swift and hard. It was as if Tevildo held nothing back. Tinúviel fell, struck dumb, her song silenced, her spell broken. A trickle of red tainted her fair skin. The others finally opened their eyes.

"Take her arms," Tevildo commanded. "And her tongue. This must seen to, and with great haste. We must not have her singing again."

Desperate and frightened, forced onto her knees, Tinúviel tried to speak and form new words for another melody. A clawed hand gripped her chin, talon-like nails cutting into her flesh. The pain is white-hot and silences her tongue. Something cold and sharp pulled at it. Tevildo still stood before her, smug and satisfied. He reached into his ears and drew out small blobs of wax. 

"Did you truly believe I was ignorant of you and your gifts?" He burst into laughter and threw them to the floor.

Eyes as gray as a starlight sky flew wide. His own flashed, now red, now green, now red again. They were harsh and pitiless, cold without mercy. He accepted a shimmering blade. Tevildo studied it and toyed with it, flipping it and whirling it, prolonging her agony. He then looked over his shoulder. 

Beren was by a column, on his knees, bound and shackled, his eyes bright with fear. "Do not do this, my lord!" He cried in anguish. "Please! I will make her leave. I will make her swear to never search for me again. Please!"

The pleas of the tormented cannot easily sway those who are dark of heart. Tevildo smiled and tightened his hold on the blade. He sets his eyes on the task at hand. 

It did not take long; the blade was finely forged and effortlessly sliced through flesh. Rivulets of crimson splashed onto the stone floor. Tevildo stepped back, pleased with his work, and drunk on both the desperate screams that cut through the air and the bite of copper that filled him with every breath he took. Something small and pink and soft sat snugly in the palm of his free hand. He decided to keep it as a trophy, a grim reminder of his victory this night.

This will certainly stand out against the others, he thought, amused.

"Have the healers clean her and then garb her in something pretty." Dizzy with the abrupt sense of his triumph, he sat back on his haunches and inspected his conquest. "I will escort her to the master and present her to him. I hear he is seeking a new bedmate, and who better than one such as her?"

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

[ferromagnetiic]

She'd been struggling with his birthday -- debating on how to celebrate him. If she wanted to celebrate him, at all. After all, he had (not-so-kindly) put a damper on her birthday celebration, and it would take her a while to forget it. It was likely that Kid would have a good birthday, with or without her input --- it made her wonder why she cared, at all. She did, though. And for that, Kid would receive an expensive bottle of whiskey from one of the best distilleries in his homeland. Along with it, a decanter set in the shape of a skull, with matching glasses. Something about it simply screamed Eustass Kidd, and Nami knew he had to have it when she saw it. Attached, was a little note. She didn't make it a long one; simple, precise, cursive writing centered on the page:

Happy birthday, dickhead. - 🍊🧡

【 KID'S BIRTHDAY 2024. 】 @chatcambrioleur

          When Kid had first discovered the Straw Hats were in the immediate vicinity, he had been keeping a very mindful eye out for their navigator in particular. If she was going to seek revenge for the events occurring during her last birthday, today would be the best day to do it. For this reason, he told himself he would be even more on guard than usual — but she was crafty, and he didn't trust her to not try something just because she was under additional surveillance.

Several hours have passed since he was first informed of their appearance, but he has still yet to spot her. Admittedly, his attention has since been divided; with his own crew members regularly approaching him to offer him warm words coupled with cold drinks, she has had plenty of opportunities to slip by him unnoticed. His attentiveness further dwindles with every mouthful of hard liquor, and his plan to intercept her arrival on his turf ebbs further and further away from him.

By the time he has found her gift, he has all but forgotten that he was originally intending to watch out for her. The copious amount of celebratory booze has stolen the scheme away from him, and the cat burglar has already successfully slipped away. In her wake, the note attached to the present she left him exposes his blunder. It is innocently placed on a wooden crate on the main deck, somehow teasing him, playfully mocking him with its mere presence. He recognizes her handwriting even without a blatant signature; her elegant script was distinct in its meticulousness.

If she ultimately does still intend to later return and make an attempt at humiliating him today, at least the generosity of the birthday present will soften the blow. There's no doubt over him liking the items she's selected — a pair of copper irises linger over the decorative skull-shaped bottle for a long time, and his expression brightens in a way that is immediately telling. Nami was always full of surprises, but he hadn't expected any of them to be the kind that would genuinely please him.

It is rare for him to willingly share with anyone other than those who sailed under his flag, and yet, he finds himself considering that if she has not yet entirely absconded the area, he might be willing to offer her a few sips. He carries the glass skull neatly tucked under his arm, and one of the corresponding glasses in each hand. It is likely the alcohol already in his system is the culprit for this minor display of geniality, but he will not consider that now.

He looks for her, briefly. He checks in with those on his crew who had been performing guard duty, and then he asks anyone who might have noticed when the whiskey first appeared. Stealth was her profession, and in the midst of birthday merriment, there was barely a sober member of his crew now remaining. She must have found it no major feat to appear, only to then quickly bleed back into the cover of nightfall.

A shame, he thinks. He might have liked to have asked if it was bought, or stolen. He suspects he may know the answer already, but he is starting to come to terms with the fact that he may be less adept at predicting her actions than he first assumed. He will drink his own glass, and then he will have hers as well. The smooth amber liquid reflects the quality of the artistic container it is presented in. She's got good taste, but he'd figured that much out a while ago.

Regardless of how good the whiskey is, he will make sure to save some for her to try the next time they meet. The first taste will be complementary, but on the understanding that additional refills will need to be exchanged for more of her tangerines.