#i used to go to a pottery studio and worked with clay a lot but its like. Messy. this isnt!!

[anaisaarts]

BEHOLD!! HE!

i found an old box of oil clay recently (like the kind children play with) and discovered i can just. sculpt little guys? on the bus??? wherever i want?? life changing tbh

[yooniivrse]

pottery date | myg

summary. you never expected to find pottery so difficult, so it's a good thing that your boyfriend is right there, ready to help guide you with his gentle hands.

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pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au, fluff

word count: 1.1k

content: yoongi and oc goes on a pottery date / yoongi helps oc with pottery / yoongi realises how much he loves oc 🤧

warnings: they’re both very much in love, thats all 😭

a/n: this was inspired by a random tiktok. i have no idea how pottery works so i apologise if any of this is inaccurate. this ended up being shorter than my usual drabbles lol. feedback, likes, reblogs, comments and asks are all greatly appreciated!! i hope you enjoyy <33

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main masterlist

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Pottery is a lot harder than people make it out to be.

You were convinced you’d be a natural at this. After all, how hard could it be to mould some clay into a simple bowl or vase? But now, as you sit at the pottery wheel with a lopsided, uncooperative lump of clay before you, the task seems almost Herculean.

The pottery studio was a hidden gem, tucked away on a quiet street. It was a warm, relaxing place filled with the earthy smell of clay and the constant hum of pottery wheels. This place was Yoongi's idea, after revealing that he had been attending classes for the past month and had completely forgotten to tell you. You had been annoyed with him at first, but your mood instantly changed when he invited you to attend a couple’s class with him.

Now you understand why he had such a smug smile on his face when he suggested it.

You glance over at Yoongi, who sits beside your wheel. His eyes are focused, his long fingers carefully shaping the clay into a perfect cylinder. He wears a simple beige top and dark jeans under an apron tied loosely around his waist. His grown-out hair falls across his eyes in small waves, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“How are you so good at this?” you ask. He looks up, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m just lucky,” he says with a small shrug. "I've also attended more classes than you, so."

"Yeah, which is totally unfair."

Yoongi chuckles. “Want some help?”

You sigh, glancing down at your creation. “Please. This thing looks like it belongs in a horror movie.”

He chuckles, wiping his hands on a damp towel before approaching your wheel. “Alright, let’s see what we can do.”

He pulls his stool closer to you and wraps his arms around yours. Your fingers intertwine on the clay, and his breath fans across the side of your face. His touch is warm and reassuring, his presence somehow making the task seem less daunting. He shifts your fingers slightly, guiding your movements with gentle precision.

“Okay, press down a little more here,” he instructs, his voice low and soothing. “And use your other hand to steady it. See? It’s all about balance.”

You follow his guidance, feeling the clay start to yield under your touch, smoothing into a proper shape. The wheel hums softly beneath your feet as you find a rhythm, the clay cool and malleable against your palms.

“There you go,” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. “You’ve got it.”

You relax into his embrace and Yoongi rests his chin on your shoulder. The pleasant, citrusy scent of his perfume overtakes your senses, and for a moment, everything else seems to fade away.

It’s just the two of you, your head resting against his shoulder as you let him control most of your moves. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back and his calloused hands that gently move over yours as you mould the clay together.

“You make it look so easy,” you say, glancing sideways at him. His focus is intent, but there’s a gentle smile on his lips. You ignore the urge to place a peck on the mole that lies just beside his nose.

“It’s all about having the right teacher,” he replies, and you playfully roll your eyes.

Yoongi leans back slightly, letting you take control. You can feel his watchful eyes on you, his presence a comforting weight at your side. He remains close, offering guidance with small nudges or murmured suggestions when you falter.

Occasionally, he whispers words of praise and encouragement in that stupidly attractive voice of his and smirks to himself when he notices the flush on your skin.

As the minutes pass, you find yourself becoming more comfortable, the awkwardness melting away. The clay responds to your touch, smoothing into an even form that vaguely resembles a bowl. It’s far from perfect, of course, but it’s yours.

“Look at that,” Yoongi says, admiration in his voice. “You’re a natural.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Hardly. But it’s better than what I started with, thanks to you.”

“We make a good team,” he says with a grin, that gummy smile lighting up his face.

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Before leaving, you drag Yoongi along to the pale, wooden shelves that line the walls, displaying an array of colourful mugs and vases with unique shapes and intricate designs. You inspect them all in awe, marvelling at the ones you find pretty and keeping them in mind as inspiration for your next piece.

A small mug catches your eye. It’s coloured in a light shade of cream, with baby pink bows painted across the exterior.

“Would it be taking inspo if I just copy this design?”

Yoongi chuckles softly, stepping closer to you to take a closer look at the mug himself. “Mhm, probably.”

You let out a disappointed sigh. “It’s so pretty though.”

He watches you stare at the mug like it holds the answers to the universe, unable to help the smile that draws across his face. The butterflies in his stomach flutter around at the sight of you looking so fondly at something so mundane.

The urge to kiss you is suddenly overwhelming. He’s so close to you that he can see the few moles dotted across your face and neck, and the faint pigment of your favourite lip gloss shining on your parted lips. In fact, he’s so close that it would take little to no effort to press his mouth to yours.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he squeezes your hand for a few seconds—a secret message that you originally came up with after sensing his hesitance to PDA.

I love you.

The action pulls your gaze from the mug to Yoongi’s face, eyes slightly wide with surprise but clouded with affection, lips curling from a smile into a grin as you mimic the action.

It’s stupid how you still manage to make him feel like this after all these years of dating. He’s embarrassed by the faint warmth that envelops his cheeks, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

God, he just fell in love with you all over again.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1975 fixer upper in Shelton, WA used to be an art/pottery studio & home on Harstine Island in the middle of Puget Sound, so it's a great location. Has 2bds, 2ba, and lots of potential. Asking $595K. I like it, see what you think.

So, it's a little weather beaten on the exterior. I wonder if that's some of the pottery they made.

If you're a wood lover, you'll be into this house. The carpet isn't bad, but that wallpaper would have to go. It's too dull for my taste.

Very unusual architecture. The interior really isn't that bad. This wood looks to be in good shape.

Large living room with a modern fireplace. The walls and ceiling look new with lovely skylights. Big windows provide a beautiful view of the sound.

Look at this fabulous feature. Love this.

I like the kitchen, it's different and has a great work triangle setup. I would just give the cabinets a light sanding and a couple of coats of polyurethane. The floor needs some TLC, too.

How cool is this? Look at that stove. The floor is worn so it looks like they spent a lot of time here. I don't blame them, it's cozy AF. All it needs is some new cushions and covers.

The back door- the hall has a lof of space for coats and stuff.

How gorgeous is this 2 story library? All it needs is a new set of cushion covers.

Cute little wood stove by the stairs.

Primary bedroom has built-ins and a big window w/a great view.

Nice closet/dressing area.

Large en-suite has vintage double sinks. This house is not bad inside, you could give it a good cleaning and live here while you do the work.

Sunken tub and shower. Look at the little door above the tub.

Check this out, a water closet with a marble top sink and interesting toilet.

There are decks all around the house, and here's a large one over the carport. Now let's have a look at the studio.

Oh, wow, this is huge.

This is fabulous.

Look, they left the pottery wheel and the area where they do the clay. So cool.

Upstairs in the loft. This has potential. It could be made into an apt. for an artist.

The banks of the Puget Sound.

This is how close it is to the water.

2.13 acre lot. Does this mean that you own part of the water in the sound?

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/970-E-Maples-Rd-Shelton-WA-98584/60923977_zpid/?

[mendeshoney]

this close isn't close enough

a/n: happy thirsty thurday fellow harlots ^_^

this is a small little part 3 ish/sequel to take me back to eden (you can find part one here and part two here) that just popped into my head and i figured i'd jot it down for you all to enjoy. it does discuss wanting and trying for a child, so if that's not something you're comfortable with, this may not be for you, so read with caution. this is for @pyotrkochetkov and @smileysvech because without them this fictional andrei wouldn't exist! title is from "melt" by kehlani

warnings/tags: nine year age gap, older man x younger woman, slice of married life, baby fever, fluff, lots of smut, shower sex, hotel sex (semi-public, against the window), oral sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation

word count: 12,163

“Almaznyy?” Andrei calls out, removing his reading glasses with one hand as he shuts his laptop with the other, then rubs the bridge of his nose.

He counts to ten in his head, waiting for your response, but it doesn’t come. The soft and familiar whrrrrr of a machine echoes back at him instead, and he sighs, a small smile stretching across his face as he gets up from his desk to wander down the hall.

When he makes it down the hall and to the threshold that leads to you, he's not surprised in the slightest to find you at your pottery wheel. Your back is to him as you sit on your stool, headphones on as your body lightly moves along to the music playing, hands firm and shaping the clay in front of you into what he knows is the makings of a teapot.

Beside you, on the work table, Andrei sees two mugs newly finished with their handles attached, two finished matching saucer plates that need to be painted with glaze and fired, and two little spoons, already fired and glazed, probably newly taken out of the kiln. Beyond that, he also spots two jars - one for honey and one for sugar cubes, you had told him - and three brand new jars of glaze.

He takes a second to himself to just silently admire you, his beautiful wife of nearly two years, and lets his heart beat wild and content in his chest.

Andrei had converted one of his guest rooms into your own little art studio not long after you moved in with him, and by converted, he means he took out all the furniture, stripped the carpet, and let you decorate and furnish it how you saw fit.

He tried his best to learn as much as he could about what kinds of art you liked creating, the tools you used, but in truth, a lot of it was lost on him, and you had more mediums of art you were interested in than you cared to admit. Andrei had ended up giving you his card instead, telling you to buy whatever it was you needed or wanted, so that the space became exactly what you had always dreamed of.

You had been meticulous about it, too, and Andrei adored every second of watching you design the space back then. The flooring was first - you insisted on water and stain proof vinyl floors - followed by shelves, storage drawers, a small desk, your massive work table, and other organizing things. Then, once you had a place and space for everything, you bought canvases, a pottery wheel, clay, easels, paints, a sketchbook, pencils, pens, markers, and more.

You’d bought a kiln, too, which had its own place in a little shed he bought and had built for you outside. Since you'd gotten back into pottery and started making pieces, you'd been able to sell some to a few of the wives, girlfriends, and partners of players on the team, as well as some of Andrei's co-workers in the Canes' front office. You had even put a few up of your paintings and drawings you'd done on your larger canvases in their charity auctions over the last couple of years, which had given you a significant amount of your own money.

Andrei encouraged you to go legit and open up a shop, which was an idea you'd been slowly getting used to. You'd set up a website so far, and had sold your first collection a couple of months ago - planters and vases and hanging planters and such - which had done extremely well, but you insisted you wanted to still be able to find fun in doing it again instead of allowing it to feel like an obligation.

To help with that as of late, had been your project of a tea set for his mom's birthday, which was still months away. You'd been using the kiln a lot more because of it, for test pieces as well as the actual pieces themselves, so more often than not lately, your art studio is where he found you.

"If you call for me and I don't respond to you in ten seconds," you'd told him when you first started on the set, "I'm either in here, or at the kiln out back."

Quietly, he observes as you shape the lump of clay in the center of your wheel into a sphere, then, unhappy with the roundness, you carefully squeeze at it until it's back into another lump, before shaping it out once more. The rise of your shoulders before they tense as you start to create a hole in the middle of the clay, and the fall of them again when you start to pinch at the walls until it forms into the exact shape you want.

Only when you stop the wheel and dip your hands into the bowl of water beside you to get rid of the excess clay does Andrei approach, carefully placing his hands on your shoulders to give you a gentle squeeze.

You tilt your head back, bumping it into his abdomen gently as you gaze up at him with his favorite dazzling smile. He carefully removes your headphones, putting it on the work table and smoothing your hair down.

"Hi baby," he murmurs, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead, the tip of your nose, and then to your lips.

You hum softly before sitting up, turning yourself around on the stool to face him. "Hi handsome," you return, grabbing a towel from the work table and wiping your hands before settling them on his waist, fingers playing with the belt loops of his jeans. "Did you call for me a lot?"

"Just once," he says, unable to resist bending down to kiss you again.

He loves looking at you like this, soft in the mid morning light, a blissful smile on your face with dots of clay and glaze over your cheeks and on the little apron you have covering your clothes. He loves how he can smell the vanilla of your body wash among the earthen scents in the art studio, and how it makes him feel like he's completely at peace.

Andrei loves you. His almaznyy. His beautiful diamond. His wife.

"What's going on?" You ask him, those beautiful eyes crinkling at the edges in another one of his favorite smiles when his hands descend into your hair, carding the strands between his fingers.

"I bought the tickets for us to go and visit Evgeny and Sara." He says.

"Oh good," you say with a nod before leaning into his touch. "When do we leave?"

"Next week," he says, tugging playfully on a strand of your hair and chuckling softly when you pout at him for it. "Is that okay?"

You wrap your arms around his waist, rubbing your face into his clothed abdomen, your verbal response muffled in the fabric. Andrei laughs, scratching gently at your scalp. "What was that, almaznyy?"

"Da," you say, leaning back to look at him again but keeping your arms secured around his waist. "That's fine with me."

He smirks when he spots a familiar glint in your eyes, watching the way your pupils dilate then blow out a little wide when he cups your face in his hands, thumbs caressing at your jaw. "My busy little almaznyy, you've been working hard lately, haven't you?"

You nod, humming in agreement. He nods too, letting one of his hands trail down and to the back of your neck, deftly undoing the knots at the top of your apron. "So diligent," he praises, "What did I do to deserve you?"

Your eyes track him as he removes his hands from your body, lowering himself to his knees so he can wrap his arms around your waist to get at the ties behind you. He buries his face into your neck as he does so, adoring the way your head immediately tilts to allow him the room. He ghosts his lips across the skin as he undoes the ties around your waist, ignoring your little whines of protest when he pulls the apron off of you and tosses it to the side.

He sits back on his haunches, looking up at you with a Cheshire grin of his own. "You got clay on your clothes too, almaznyy." He playfully chastises, gesturing towards the little flecks of clay on the black shirt you're wearing - which is most definitely his - and to the miniscule spots on your sweatpants. "Think we should probably get you cleaned up in that case, shouldn't we?"

A small smirk crosses your lips as you nod, and Andrei smiles, surging up to wrap you in his arms. You go easily, both your bodies on muscle memory as you wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, and he lifts you into his hold easily, standing with you and carrying you off down the hall to your bedroom.

~

The warm spray of the shower cascades down his bare back as Andrei fucks you slow and deep against the tiles, his arms settled into the space behind your knees as he holds you up and open for him.

Your cries echo around the bathroom, your arms wrapped around his neck and fingers tangled in his hair, grasping at the strands desperately, his name a repeated plea on your lips.

"More," you beg sweetly, and he smiles, eyes locked on your face. He lowers you a little bit, and on the next push in, your eyes flutter shut as your mouth falls open in a beautiful cry, pussy squeezing around his cock in a way that makes him so fucking dizzy.

"Come on baby," he coaxes, pressing you impossibly closer against the tiles and against himself, burying his face in your neck to suck a bruise into the skin. With every press of his hips forward, your clit grinds against his abs, and he can feel the way your body begins to tense up and shake in his hold, your nails disappearing from his scalp to dig into his shoulders instead.

His name leaves your lips in another desperate plea, and he chuckles, nipping playfully at the skin of your neck, your jaw, before capturing your lips in a filthy kiss. He licks into your mouth, massaging his tongue with yours before he pulls away just slightly, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth as he goes.

"Is my pretty wife going to come on her husband's cock?" He taunts, and he sees the way the words go straight through you, your eyes glazing over, body going almost lax in his grip.

(He'd gotten much filthier and practically insane with his dirty talk over time. It started not long after you'd left Eden and began officially dating nearly seven months after meeting, and had only gotten more intense during the three month time span that you'd been engaged. It didn't help the fact that he noticed you particularly loved when he called you his wife, regardless of the situation.)

"Andrei," you plead. "Please."

"Please what, pretty baby?" He murmurs, dragging his lips against yours lazily, "What is it my pretty wife wants, hm?"

Your pussy squeezes down again and he groans, stealing another filthy kiss from you. "'M so close," you say between kisses, dragging your nails across his shoulders again.

He keeps your legs hooked over his bent arms, reaching his hands down to squeeze at your waist, thumb rubbing gently over where he knows a little diamond tattoo sits at your side, fucking you onto his cock in deep, sharp thrusts that steal your breath from you, and your eyes squeeze shut as your body shakes even more in his hold.

Andrei latches his lips to that sensitive spot on your neck, pressing his body tight against yours. That, and the added friction as your clit rubs against his abs, your sensitive nipples brushing against his chiseled chest, has you coming around him with a loud cry. Your pussy clamps down, pulsing around him and Andrei groans, holding you tight as he fucks past the grip, chasing after his own orgasm.

He groans low and deep, electricity shooting up his spine as he comes, filling you from where he's buried deep. It sends your body into a second orgasm almost immediately, and Andrei curses, muttering a string of Russian in your ear at the unexpected sensation.

You both take a blissful, fucked out moment to calm down, heartbeats slowing and breathing returning to normal.

"Okay?" He murmurs after a few minutes, and you nod, sighing happily in his hold. He taps your hips, and you nod again. An unhappy sounding noise leaves you when he gently pulls out, and his heart aches a little bit, thinking you’re probably sore. He’s immediately pressing apologetic kisses to your forehead while lowering you to the ground. His hands stay on your body, keeping you steady until you manage to stand on your own.

When his eyes finally get back to your face, there's an expression there he hasn't seen before, one he can't quite place. There's a tinge of disappointment there, and longing, and it brings a frown to his face too.

He cups your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look at him. When your eyes lock, the expression fades, and the smile that takes over your face is so brightly it almost knocks him off of his feet.

"What's wrong, almaznyy?" He says, thumb brushing against your cheeks.

You lean into his touch, hands circling around his wrists. "Nothing, Drei." You promise, "I'm perfectly happy."

There's nothing in your voice or in your face now that tells him that you're lying, or that you're hiding anything from him, so he has no reason to not believe you.

Still, he stores the expression he saw away for later, keeping it in mind just in case.

He takes his time washing you both off after that, enjoying the content noises you make as he shampoos your hair and wraps you up in a fluffy towel when you're all done, pressing gentle kisses all over your face before seizing your mouth in a kiss he hopes tells you "I'm so in love with you I think my heart might burst without you."

~

Andrei quickly darts out of the way as a little boy zooms past him, his father chasing after him and tossing a “sorry!” over his shoulder as he goes.

He laughs a little, calling out a “it’s okay!” in their way as he double checks that he still has a hold on your drinks and food before he keeps walking. 

He heads back into the airport lounge and straight for you, handing you a cup of hot chocolate and a warmed up croissant from one of the bistros in the terminal. You accept it with a happy smile and a murmured ‘thank you’ before he snuggles up next to you on the little couch you’ve both managed to commandeer for yourselves.

He glances over at your airport outfit once more, mostly because he can’t help but appreciate how cozy you look.

Admittedly, he’s still got a small habit of dressing up when he flies, so he’s his standard in black pants and a white shirt, and you insisted on matching with him when you got dressed this morning. You’re in black lounge pants, a white shirt, and you have a gray sweater tied and resting around your shoulders.

Andrei figured out that when you fly you prefer to have your own blanket with you, which you have curled around your shoulders right now as you take a sip of your hot chocolate.

You look more ready for a cozy winter than you do for a week-long vacation during the summer in San Jose.

“Is it good baby?” He asks, taking a sip of his own coffee. You nod, holding the cup to your cheek. Another thing he learned - you get cold easily, but especially in airports.

“Very,” you nod, leaning your head to rest on his shoulder. “Spasibo, malysh.”

“You’re welcome, almaznyy.” 

He’s content to relax like that with you, and when he takes his phone out once you’ve finished your drinks, you help him with the crossword puzzle game he became addicted to once he saw you playing it yourself.

The two of you are engrossed in trying to figure out a six letter word for the clue “tough” when there’s a blur of pale yellow accompanied by a flurry of giggles that crashes into your legs, and it makes both of you jump up a little in surprise.

It’s a baby boy, Andrei realizes, one who’s most likely just learned what running is given the delighted and mischievous expression on his face, and when he turns to check if you’re okay, he’s surprised to find you out of your seat, blanket abandoned, and kneeling on the floor in front of the child to see if they’re okay.

The baby looks like he’s seconds from crying, but then you’re smiling, speaking at him quietly and gently, and to Andrei’s amazement, the baby stops, looks at you, and then bursts into a fit of giggles.

You laugh, happy that you could make him feel better, and continue to speak to him while he babbles away at you. He’s seen you do it with Luka, coaxing him away from a tantrum he’d been seconds away from, and calming Mila down when she scraped her knee while learning to ride her bike that first time, and it still amazes him how good you are with kids. Something warm and fuzzy starts to grow in his heart, and it stops short when a woman who Andrei can only assume is the baby’s mother approaches.

“I’m so sorry!” She says, jogging toward where you and the baby are on the ground. “Leo’s just discovered how fast he can move but we’re still working on finding his brakes.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure her through a laugh. “My nephew Luka was the same.”

My nephew - Andrei still loved that you thought that way.

“He probably had places to be and we were just in the way, weren’t we Leo?” You tease, pulling a funny face at Leo. His mom laughs when Leo bursts into giggles, picking Leo up into her arms.

“He’s fast,” Andrei notes when you stand with her, “How old is he?”

“He just turned one,” his mom gushes. 

You make a little cooing sound. “Is he your first?”

Leo’s mother shakes her head with a laugh. “You’d think so, but I have a three year old too. His name’s Sky, he’s with my husband over there, we finally just got him to settle down but then this little guy decided it was time to sprint.”

You and Andrei look over to where Leo’s mom gestured, finding the three year old who almost ran him over earlier eating snacks while his dad watches over him, all the while looking over at his wife and smiling when he sees her.

Andrei knows that smile, he probably sends that same smile your way about a hundred times a day. 

Ulybka vlyublennogo muzhchiny. His mom had said. The smile of a man in love.

“You should think about getting them into sports soon.” Andrei says when he turns back toward the mom, “Sky almost tackled me in the terminal earlier-”

“-And Leo barely flinched when he ran into me!” You tease, making another funny face at the baby. He giggles, suddenly growing shy as he hides in his mom’s shoulders.

She laughs, “Everyone’s been saying that to me. I might just have to consider it.”

Andrei reaches into his pocket, grabbing his business card from his wallet and hands it to the mother with a small smile. “If you ever think they’re interested in hockey, give me a call or send me an email. I’d be happy to get them set up.”

The mother takes Andrei’s card with a curious look, and when she reads his name, her eyes light up in recognition, and she smiles, laughing a little to herself.

“I knew you looked familiar! My husband and I are big fans. We were there for your last cup winning game. It’s so nice to meet you!”

Andrei catches the glance you shoot at him from the corner of his eye, can see the tense line of your shoulders in his peripheral, but he gives the mother an easy smile, and your body relaxes.

Now that he has you, that time in his life isn’t so painful anymore.

“Thank you,” he says genuinely. “I’m glad that you were there, it felt good to have home crowd support.”

“I appreciate your offer, I’ll definitely reach out.” She says, then looks at both of you. “It was nice meeting you both, you’re such a lovely couple!”

You both say your goodbyes, you waving at baby Leo, who waves back shyly, then looks at Andrei. Andrei waves too, and to his surprise, baby Leo waves back to him too, before burying his face in his mother’s shoulder.

You finally return to your seat on the couch next to Andrei, wrapping both of your arms around his, resting your chin on his shoulder as you smile brightly up at him.

“That was hot of you.” You say, which has Andrei laughing in surprise.

“What was, almaznyy?”

“You and your business cards.” You say, scrunching your nose a little. “I liked it, it was very authoritative.”

Andrei shakes his head, booping your nose with his finger. “Calm yourself down, almaznyy. I’m still not interested in being part of the mile high club.”

You roll your eyes with a shrug, but relax fully against his side. “Offer still stands.”

~

You're laying on the floor of Sara and Evgeny's living room, laughing as you bounce eight month old baby Alexei up and down against your belly, watching as his little legs kick back and forth and he babbles his joy. From beside you, three year old Luka lays on his belly as he plays with the train set Andrei had bought him last Christmas, and five year old Mila rests on your other side, coloring diligently in the sketchbook you'd bought her for her birthday.

She'd seen you drawing in one of your journals and had become both enraptured and amazed as she observed you, and then had been overjoyed when you handed her the book and pencil so she could create her own drawings as she pleased.

Her parents had been worried that she might accidentally press the pencil too tight and ruin one of your other drawings, or accidentally draw over something you had done, but either way, you would have cared less. "It's good for her to do it this way," you had told them, "so she knows what she makes is important, too."

On the couch above you, Sara's feeding a bottle to Alexei's twin brother Aleksander, watching you and her children. She smiles, nudging you gently in the side with her socked feet.

"You're a natural at this," she praises. "The kids always seem to behave better when you're here."

You scoff a little, making nonsensical noises at Alexei as he babbles back at you. "Hardly," you say. "I think it's because Andrei wears them out first."

When you and Andrei come around, he tends to round up his niece and nephews, tiring the older ones out by running around while you and Sara or Evgeny or Andrei's parents help with the twins.

Sara shakes her head. "No, he might wear them out, but they still have plenty of room to be crazy. You settle them down. This is the quietest they've been all day."

You look at your nieces and nephews at where they each are, peaceful and happy and content, and you shrug, smiling a little to yourself. "I guess so."

Sara laughs, nudging you again. "So, when are you gonna have some little ones of your own? We're outnumbered by boys here and it's your turn to pop a baby out for once."

You falter slightly, almost dropping baby Alexei straight on your face before you catch him effortlessly, trying to ignore the wave of dizziness when you launch yourself upright into a sitting position. Luka and Mila barely spare either of you a glance, too focused on what they're doing. You gaze at Sara, holding Alexei tight with one hand while shushing her with the other.

"Not so loud!" You half whisper, half yell.

Andrei and Evgeny were just in the kitchen not too far away, and while they were probably distracted by shop talk, you couldn't risk him hearing like this.

Sara narrows her eyes at you, frowning, whisper-yelling right back. "You told me on the phone last week that you were going to talk to him about it! And the week before that, and two weeks before that!"

You groan, shaking your head and beginning to bounce Alexei again when he starts to fuss. Sara shakes her head right back at you, gesturing for you to follow her as she heads toward the twins' nursery, instructing Mila and Luka to "wait right here while mommy talks to your aunt."

As you head to the nursery, you pass Andrei and Evgeny who are, as expected, engrossed in their conversation, but it doesn't stop Andrei from tossing a wink at you as you pass by.

You pointedly ignore the way it makes butterflies swarm and swoop in your stomach, smiling softly in return before ducking out of sight and into the nursery. Sara shuts the door behind you, giving you a pointed look as she does so.

You'd had best friends before, obviously, but never an older sister figure, and none quite like Sara. When Andrei had introduced you two, she'd been nothing but welcoming, friendly, and someone you'd come to rely on quite a lot since then.

When she announced she was pregnant with twins last year, you'd been overjoyed for her, and often traveled back and forth between San Jose and Raleigh to help her with the babies, especially since it had been Evgeny's first year working with the coaching staff of the Sharks, having previously been in the front office.

Maybe it was the excitement you got in helping her decorate the nursery, even though most of it was taken care of since they had things from Luka and Mila, or maybe it was just all the preparation you helped her with, but it had given you severe baby fever.

Like...severe.

Severe enough that you were practically ready to be pregnant that very same day until reality kicked in and knocked some serious sense into you.

You'd asked her how she and Evgeny had approached the topic of having kids, if she had advice on how you should broach the subject with Andrei, and she had only one thing to say.

"They're pretty direct people," she had said. "It's best to rip the bandaid off with something like that."

A couple of months ago, she texted you a picture of the twins in the matching pajama set you'd bought, and something in it made you want to finally talk to Andrei about it. So you told Sara that you would.

But...

The second you'd gone to Andrei in his office about it, you suddenly got cold feet. Realistically, you two hadn't actually talked about having kids before. Things with the two of you had been unconventional and fast from the start, so granted, you both had done things a little messily and quite backwards.

Still, the worst he could say to you was "no" or "not right now baby," but despite your past mess you two had always been on the same page, so the idea of hearing a "not right now" was okay, but hearing "no"?

Yeah, not something you had exactly prepared yourself for.

So instead of allowing there to be room for a "no" or "not right now," you just...didn't say a word.

Which Sara was definitely going to yell at you for.

Or at least, whisper yell, what with the twins going down for their nap and all.

Sara lays a droopy Aleksander into his crib, and he falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow. She takes Alexei from you next, sitting in the rocking chair set up in the corner of the room to start to feed him his bottle while you sit on the floor, gazing at baby Aleksander through the bars of his crib.

"What in the world are you waiting for?" Sara asks you, voice soft but firm in the nursery. 

You groan a little to yourself. "I just haven't gotten around to it, okay?"

"Yes, but why?" She presses. "You know he won't say no to you."

"I actually don't know that. He might not be able to say no when I ask for help, or ask for something, but children are not things to ask for. It's an entire human being you're bringing into the world, you know!"

Sara gives you a deadpan expression. "Of course I know, I've brought four of them into existence."

"Then you know that it's a lot to ask. Even if I want a child, even if I want to be a mom and raise my kids and bring them up, that doesn't guarantee that Andrei wants the same."

"He'll want them with you." Sara insists. "He'll want them because you'll be their mother and he's in love with you and those kids will be half of you and he'll be so proud to say that they're your children."

The idea fills you with hope, but you tamp it down. You have to be realistic about this. You know your husband, and you know that while Sara's right and he will do anything for you, he also probably won't handle this being sprung on him as a surprise, or appreciate being confronted with it out of the blue.

"Just get rid of your birth control and tell him you want a kid." Sara insists, and your eyes bug out of your head.

"Are you insane?" You whisper yell. "That would definitely give him a heart attack."

"Don't be so dramatic," she says, rolling her eyes. "He's too young to have those."

"I'll talk to him," you promise, more to yourself than to Sara. "But I'm not using any of your suggestions."

Sara shrugs. "Fine by me, but there'd better be a new baby next Christmas, and it won't be mine."

~

In the kitchen, Andrei watches with fond eyes as you disappear into the nursery with Sara and the twins. He's listening to what Evgeny's talking about, he really is, but his eyes are locked on the silent screen of the baby monitor, showing you handing Alexei off to Sara after Sara's put Aleksander down.

Watching you with his niece and nephews all day had filled his heart with something warm and fuzzy, something he couldn't quite place.

The way that you cared for his family since he introduced you to them was something that made Andrei incredibly happy, and he could tell that the way that they cared for you in turn made you just as happy.

He often caught you speaking with his mother on the phone, trying your best to only stick to Russian as best as possible to make her comfortable. His father didn't reach out often, but when he did, you did your best to converse with him too. Sometimes, when you thought Andrei wasn't looking, he'd see you reading through a Russian textbook in your art studio, brushing up on the language.

You talked to Sara almost every week, the two of you growing to be as close as sisters, and that made Andrei happy considering the only real sibling relationship you had was still pretty strained. Even after Andrei married you, your brother Joshua still wasn't his favorite person, which was unfortunate, considering his husband Sam was an angel and one of your favorite people.

Evgeny had also grown closer to you a little, considering how much you helped him and Sara prepare for the arrival of the twins. There were times he'd reach out to you if he couldn't reach Andrei for any reason, and Evgeny often teased Andrei about how more often than not, it seemed like a freak accident that he'd managed to find someone like you to be his wife.

"Believe me," Andrei had told his brother. "I know."

He listens intently to his brother as he discusses what's going on with the Sharks, clearly seeking Andrei's advice, but all the while, Andrei keeps his eyes on you, watches you through the baby monitor as you sit with Sara and the twins.

Everything about your body language screams comfort, like there's nowhere in the world you'd rather be, and it brings a smile to his face unconsciously.

Evgeny pauses in his ranting, glancing to the baby monitor and rolling his eyes, shoving at Andrei. "Obrashchat' vnimaniye," he scolds. Pay attention.

"I am!" Andrei insists, turning his full attention back to his brother. "You were saying?"

Evgeny opens his mouth, then closes it, a curious expression crossing his features. "Have you thought about it?"

"About what?" Andrei asks, moving his brother so he can go into the fridge and steal one of those obnoxious glass bottles of water Evgeny insists on buying.

"About what comes after marriage," Evgeny says. "About having kids."

Andrei almost drops the water bottle on the kitchen floor, can hear it shatter in his ears, but he's pretty sure that's his brain doing that. "About what?" He asks, voice practically an echo in his head.

Evgeny shakes his head. "Ty takoy idiot."

Andrei turns to face him, frowning. "I am not an idiot."

"You are, actually. Have you two not talked about having kids?"

Andrei opens his mouth, then shuts it.

You two actually hadn't. Not really. Not at all, now that he thought about it.

Evgeny shakes his head. "Listen, I know you're enjoying your never ending honeymoon phase, but it wouldn't hurt to ask."

Andrei takes a swig from his water, glancing at you on the monitor.

You've got Alexei in your arms now, feeding him the rest of his bottle while Sara rests on the rocking chair, eyes on Aleksander.

His heart does a little flip, imagining you holding a little baby that's got your nose and his eyes, and it brings back the warm and fuzzy feeling he'd felt earlier.

Maybe...maybe it was worth a discussion.

~

Since Evgeny's house had gotten crowded with all the kids, Andrei had booked a suite for the two of you at the Marriott.

It had a lovely view of the city, especially at night, and Andrei enjoyed it even more with your naked body pressed against one of the many floor to ceiling windows, watching the way your face twisted with pleasure in the reflection of the glass.

The lights were off in the hotel room, so there wasn't a single chance of anyone seeing what the two of you were up to, but the thrill was there all the same. He wanted to show you off, show off his beautiful little wife, the only diamond he ever needed.

Your palm prints littered the window as you pushed back against him, and Andrei groaned, tightening the grip on your hips, fingers pressing against where he knew that little diamond tattoo rested beneath the waistband of your thong.

He could barely wait, barely think by the time you both got back to the hotel. The second your jeans were off, he pulled your thong to the side and slid in to the hilt, burying himself inside of you and making you come all over him in seconds.

It wasn't often that Andrei took you from behind. More often than not, he preferred looking at you, preferred watching the beautiful faces you made and watching the way your body reacted to his own. But in times like these, where there was something that could help him watch you, he couldn't exactly complain.

He releases his hold on one of your hips, letting his hands wander up your torso, bringing you upright against him as he bends his knees a little, adjusting for your height difference so he can cage you against him as he fucks into you.

Pleasant and happy noises leave you as he plays with one of your nipples, then the other, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses on your neck. His nails gently scratch at the valley between your breasts, making you shiver, before trailing his hand down your stomach.

He had every intention of putting his fingers to your clit, rubbing gently there the way you liked when he took you like this, but instead, his hands lingered on your stomach, on where he could feel the slight bulge of where his cock fucked in and out of you, and he found his hands resting there instead.

A shiver ran through your body, your pussy pushing back on his cock again as if on impulse, and a deep, pleased noise rumbled through Andrei's chest.

"Almaznyy?" He murmured against your neck, finding the sensitive spot below your ear and sucking against it gently.

You gasped in his hold, shaking a little, and he chuckled, pressing his hand against the little bulge of your stomach, the hand he still had on your waist tightening its grip, pressing his fingers a little more into the diamond tattoo.

"Can you feel me here, moya krasivaya zhena?" He asks you, cock throbbing when you squeeze against him in excitement. You loved it when he called you ‘my pretty wife.’ "Can you feel me fucking you?"

You nod, frantic, hands gripping onto his arms. "Please, malysh, wanna come."

"You wanna come already?" He taunts. "Gonna come for me in front of the whole city?"

A soft whine leaves your lips as he thrusts in particularly hard, emphasizing his question.

"Yes," you answer, nearly breathless.

“And what about me?” He teases, pressing his hand against your stomach a little more. "You want me to come inside, almaznyy? Want me to come right here?"

In the reflection of the window, he catches the way your eyes slam shut before you throw your head back against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent cry and body seizing as your orgasm claims you. Your pussy clenches impossibly tight, and it sends Andrei over the edge in seconds, pushing down on your waist to bury himself inside of you, cock throbbing almost painfully as he comes.

The two of you shake silently for a second, and Andrei holds you both upright as best as he can until he can feel your body as it calms down. He pulls out gently, not wasting a second before he scoops you up, walking you over to the bed to lay you on it gently before he climbs on beside you.

You go to him almost immediately, and his arms open on instinct, welcoming you in his embrace as you bury your nose in his chest.

He wants to say something, anything. He wants to ask you if what just happened was okay, if you're okay, if he didn't cross a line, if you maybe wanted to try that again sometime soon or maybe if you want to try it in a different position.

But then he hears your breathing start to even out, feels the way your body goes lax in his hold, and he resigns himself to discussing it another time.

~

The following day, you and Andrei head back over to Sara and Evgeny’s for lunch. You help Sara put the kids down for their naps after you all eat, and Andrei and Evgeny handle the dishes.

When you and Sara come out of the kids’ rooms, you’re met with a chorus of laughter from Andrei, Evgeny, and then their mother’s voice echoes through the living room.

Peeking around the corner, you can see Andrei and Evegny crowded around Evgeny’s laptop, definitely on FaceTime with their mother.

She signals to you to hang back, and you nod. You’re more than happy to give Andrei and his brother the alone time they need to speak with their mom, so you lean back against the wall, Sara against the one opposite you, and you smile at each other when you hear the brother excitedly converse with their mother in Russian.

Your fluency has gotten better, but it’s not one hundred percent - same with Sara’s - so the two of you can only really pick up on bits and pieces here and there, catching tidbits of their mother’s praises for her boys along with her normal chastising.

You two are looking fit!

Still, you both need to eat more. 

You’re working too hard.

Are you ready for the upcoming season?

Oh my brilliant boys!

How are my daughters?

How are the grandkids?

Evgeny, you’d better bring them by soon so I can babysit.

Andrei, how are you doing?

Are you and my favorite girl happy?

When are you two going to give me more grandchildren?!

That last part sends a shock through your body, and Sara nudges you with her foot at the same time Andrei begins to stutter and stammer in the living room.

Their mom starts to say something else when her voice gets quieter, and you realize Andrei’s turned the volume down. His voice gets a little quieter, and Evgeny’s loud laughter drowns out whatever Andrei says in return to their mother.

Sara gives you another pointed look, as if to say “So you still didn’t talk to him about it.”

You roll your eyes, and she nudges your foot again before dragging you down the hall and into her and Evgeny’s bedroom. 

“For the love of God,” she says. “I know you said you’re not taking my suggestions, but you are going to have to take this one, specifically with the promise that you’ll at least save it until you get back to Raleigh.”

You answer her with a deadpan stare, and she sighs, exasperated, before gesturing to you. 

“You have to seduce him.” She says plainly. “It’s how I did it with Evgeny, and it’s how you’re going to have to do it with Andrei instead of tiptoeing around.”

You’re slightly dumbfounded, so all you can manage is a weak “What?”

“Remember when I told you to rip the bandaid off?” She asks, and you nod. She waves a hand around, “Well, that’s what I meant by that. Seduce him. Rip the bandaid off.”

“Seduce him…” You say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement.

Sara grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you a bit. “You know he loves you, you know he thinks you’re hot. Use it.”

Sara doesn’t know how you and Andrei met, no one does except Lottie, Oli, Mason, Eli, and you and Andrei. She has no idea about your past.

Which means she has no idea that if there is anything you know how to do, it’s seduce Andrei.

~

You try your best to clear your mind, focusing on exfoliating your skin as you shower and the things you’re planning on doing once this shower is done.

It had been a week since you’d returned from visiting with Sara and Evgeny, and this morning, you’d gone to see your OBGYN doctor to discuss…well, a possible game plan.

You agreed that after you finished this round of birth control pills and had your period, you and Andrei would probably start trying.

And well, after you spoke to Andrei about all of this, of course. 

But Sara was right, seduction might have to come first. You were too out of sorts to wait any longer.

He had been gone this morning when you went to your appointment, having to be at the practice rink to watch the team’s morning skate, and when you had returned home after running some errands, he’d been in his office for a string of phone calls, which he said he’d be in and out of till about two this afternoon.

It was about noon, then. So you’d gone on a run, had a little pep talk with yourself to prepare for the impending conversation, and strategized.

The pep talk you had was simple - if during said conversation, Andrei voiced that he didn’t want kids, that was that. You would not be forcing him into anything he didn’t want or trying to convince him, and the two of you would likely talk things out from there.

If he did want kids, perfect, you could talk about that, but, you could also give him a bit of extra motivation.

Which brought you to the seduction strategy you’d developed so carefully on the way back from your run.

It was about one in the afternoon when you got back, so you threw together a quick lunch for you and Andrei to have - once he was done with his phone calls and you - and it was about one thirty when you hopped into the shower.

You’d gone for a wax right after your doctor’s appointment, as part of the errands you ran, along with a mani pedi, but a little extra gentle exfoliation on the legs never hurt anyone.

Once you finished in the shower, you toweled off and applied the vanilla lotion Andrei loved the most on you, before slipping on one of your favorite sundresses. It was also one Andrei liked on you, particularly because it was just the right side of see through. 

Hence, why it was a key part to your strategy.

It might be devious, and it’s definitely playing dirty, but you need a little ammunition on your side, if not for the sake of a small confidence boost to get you through the conversation.

You did this for a living, for a time. You did this specifically for Andrei before, it shouldn’t be too hard to do it for him again. Sure, the way that you seduced him now looked different, the way that you were together now had changed drastically, but Sara was right. At the very least, Andrei loved you, and he never failed to remind you how attractive you were to him.

So hopefully, this worked.

You checked the time on the clock on your nightstand - one fifty five. A quick glance in the mirror assured you this was the best option outfit wise, and your nerves reminded you that you’d both probably need a little bit of liquid courage for this next bit. Heading back out to the kitchen, you make yourself a quick margarita and pour Andrei a shot of his favorite whisky. 

If there was anything you knew about your husband, sometimes he just needed a little something to take the edge off before he could plow forward with whatever it was he needed to do. He was bound to be nervous once you brought up the idea of having a baby, especially if you were going to be playing just a little bit dirty about it. 

You grabbed both glasses and headed back down the hall to Andrei’s office. Just as you crossed the threshold, he was bidding whoever was on the other line goodbye, and you took a deep breath to steel yourself.

Andrei is your husband. You love each other. You reminded yourself. He is your husband. You can get through anything together.

Andrei smiles when you hand him his glass, his reading glasses perched on his nose making him look both hot, authoritative, and innocent all at once. “Now how did you know I needed this, moya zhena?”

You shrug, playing innocent. “A lucky guess.”

You both toast, clinking your glasses before each taking a sip of your respective drinks. You try to hide your smile behind your glass as you do, but you should’ve known better.

Andrei’s almost always looking at you, so nothing ever could get past your loving and doting husband.

“What’s that smile doing there?” He teases, and it’s then that he seems to finally take in what you’re wearing.

And that you’re wearing nothing underneath it.

You try another innocent smile, but Andrei raises a brow in suspicion, quirking his finger and summoning you to his side of the desk.

Placing your glass down on the mahogany, you round the desk to his side, obeying when he taps the desk and jumping up, taking a seat but keeping your legs crossed.

You don’t want him distracted.

“Are you about to ask me for something expensive, almaznyy? Because if you are, you’re off to a good start.”

You never actually needed to do anything if it was expensive, including asking him for anything, since you did have your own income, and you both knew that. But still, every now and again you liked to pretend like you did, liked the way it made Andrei nervous and pliant, like he didn’t meet you the way he actually did, like he wasn’t familiar with the concept. 

But that wasn’t what you were going for here.

“Well,” you start, “it’s sort of expensive. An…investment, if you will.”

He frowns slightly. “Don’t tell me Jarvy’s wife actually talked you into wanting to buy that monstrosity of a beach house.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of you, having almost completely forgotten Tessa’s attempt to expand her real estate portfolio by tempting you with an even bigger sunroom than the one you and Andrei had now.

You shake your head. “No no, I don’t want that house.”

“But you do want a house?” Andrei inquires.

You shake your head, nerves suddenly racing through your veins. It makes your hands shake, so you reach out for him, cupping his jaw with your hand, leaving the other resting in your lap. You thumb over the stubble along his jaw, humming to yourself, trying to gather the right words.

It makes Andrei nervous. “Listen, almaznyy, whatever it is, we-”

“I want this house, Bubby,” you interrupt, wanting to be out with it but also not sure if you were remotely prepared for the rest of his sentence. At the pet name, Andrei’s eyes get brighter, his entire demeanor softening. “I want this house, with you and I in it, and maybe…maybe a little one running around in it, too.”

There. You said it…kind of.

But it was out there now. 

And Andrei…

There’s surprise in his face, definitely, and you’d been expecting that. But there’s also no…opposition. Nothing that says he doesn’t want to have this conversation, nothing that screams disagreement, nothing that says he doesn’t like the idea.

There are nerves there, like yours, but amongst the nerves and surprise is…hope? Something wistful. 

You lean into it, trailing your hand from his face to his arm, then down to the desk where his hand rests beside your legs. You take it, intertwining your fingers, playing with his hand a little.

“Bubby,” you continue. And that time you’re definitely playing dirty, saying one of his favorite pet names like that, like you want something - which you do, no question - and it makes Andrei’s whole body relax. “I want a baby,” you say, this time, plainly, so there’s no question and no doubt. “I want to have a baby with you.” You glance up at him, finding his intense gaze already on you. “What do you think?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and if you didn’t already know your husband, his lack of a response might concern you. But the look on his face tells you that he’s thinking, and so you wait, giving him enough space and time to collect his thoughts.

Finally, he squeezes your hand, a little sigh of relief mixed with a laugh leaving his chest, eyes crinkling at the corners as a brilliant smile takes over his features. He says nothing, just maneuvers you to part your legs so he can haul you off the desk and into his lap. You go to him easily, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his neck, breathing him in. One of his arms bands itself across your waist, the other across your back so he can cradle the back of your head in his hands.

“I didn’t know how to ask you.” He says softly into your ear. “I’ve been thinking about it, too. How to ask…how to tell you…”

“Ya tozhe,” you tell him. Me too. “I didn’t know if it was something you wanted.”

“We never talked about it,” he agrees. “And we should have, and I’m sorry we didn’t.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, malysh. We’re talking about it now, aren’t we?” You say, pressing a small kiss to his jaw.

He tightens his grip on you. “Because you were brave enough to do it. You’ve always been the brave one of the two of us, almaznyy.”

“You were the one who brought us together, Andrei.” You remind him, “I couldn’t have done that. Only you could have, and you did.”

“I would do it again.” He swears, leaning back a little to press a kiss to your forehead. 

You pull back a little, puckering your lips, and he laughs, leaning down to kiss you softly, gently, and like he has all the time in the world. You love when he kisses you like this, like he’s afraid you’ll break or disappear into thin air. It makes you feel precious, like the very diamond he continues to call you.

“Bubby,” you murmur between kisses, “how many babies do you want?”

There’s a choked noise that bubbles in his throat, so you pull back, looking at him in concern. He reaches for his scotch, but you bat his hand away, handing him the bottle of water he always keeps on his desk instead.

He takes a couple of grateful swigs, and much to his disappointment, you climb off of him and climb back to your perch on his desk, giving him some room to breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Didn’t mean to take you by surprise there.”

Andrei shakes his head, putting the closed water bottle down and reaches for his glass, downing the rest of its contents. When it's empty, you take it back from him, putting it on a far enough corner of his desk before reaching for your glass, taking down the rest of your margarita, then set the empty glass next to Andrei’s. Once those are out of the way, you lean back on your hands, your attention solely on Andrei once more.

He’s got a little glint in his eye as he considers you, letting one of his hands come up to rest on your legs, caressing your skin. “You know me, almaznyy. I’m not picky.” He starts. “I’ll be satisfied with as many babies as you’re willing to give me.”

You smile, pleased with his answer. In reward, you nudge the hand he has on your leg a little, and Andrei beams, gently grabbing your calf so he can part your legs, this time, to take in the sight of your bare pussy.

Carefully, you pull up the hem of your dress and push yourself to the edge of his desk, and Andrei takes your ankles, gently placing one on the armrest of his chair, putting the other over his shoulder. He scoots his chair in closer, your leg sliding down his back a little and allowing his hands to rest on your hips.

“We should…” he starts, swallowing. “We should probably talk about this a little more.”

You smirk. “We are talking, though.”

“In depth,” he clarifies. “Get into specifics, and things.”

But even as he says it, you can see in his face you probably wouldn’t get further than the next five minutes. “We can still talk about it after, too, okay? We’ll sit and have a real conversation about it.”

He blinks, nodding, then glances down at where you know he wants to bury his face.

“If you wanted a baby, almaznyy,” he says, warm breath fanning over your lower abdomen, “you didn’t have to play dirty.”

“Dirty?” You ask, innocent as ever. “What do you mean?”

Andrei narrows his eyes at you. “The first time you walked into this office on a mission, you were dressed just like this.”

“You mean when I used to be your assistant?” You tease, and he pinches your thigh playfully.

“Moya zhena,” he warns. He may be playful, but it seems you’ve pushed a few too many buttons in that area today.

Shame, you think. Maybe I can try again after dinner. 

You roll your eyes playfully, pouting a little. “I was nervous and needed some confidence, alright?”

“You look plenty confident to me,” he reassures you with a slight nod, then he’s bunching up the fabric of your dress and pressing against your stomach, his nice way of saying ‘lay back moya zhena, let me take care of you.’

The first swipe of his tongue in your folds takes you by surprise, a pleasant squeal leaving your lips and echoing around his office. His second taste of you is slower, his tongue laying flat against you and dragging from your entrance to your clit, his lips circling around the bud and sucking in a way that elicits a pleasant moan from you.

Andrei’s hands crawl up your body to the neckline of your dress, and you help him a little, slipping the straps off so he can pull the neckline down, cupping your tits in his hands and squeezing.

He’d been particularly fond of the first time you’d had sex in this house together. Had cherished the memory of you in that light pink sundress and on this desk in a similar fashion. It was probably why you’d chosen to approach him this way, he thinks absentmindedly, lips and mouth settling into the familiar pace you love when he’s got his face between your thighs.

Andrei can feel his pants get a little tighter the wetter you get, his chin coated in your slick and nose nudging against your clit as his lips and tongue work you open. He’s so perfectly at peace here, totally content to just lick at you and taste you for hours at a time that he nearly forgets why you’re sprawled out on his desk like this.

You tugging at his hair serves as a gentle reminder that kicks him into gear, and he smiles against your skin, pressing kisses to the junction of your thighs and nipping at you a little.

“Andrei,” you say, breathless. “Potoropites', pozhaluysta.” Hurry up, please.

He shakes his head, gently letting your legs fall to the side as he sits up in his chair, draping his body over yours. “Not this time, almaznyy,” he says, wrapping your arms around his neck before he wraps his own arms around your back, cupping your ass in his hands.

Your brain kicks into gear just in time for you to wrap your legs around his waist, and then he’s lifting you up, pressing filthy open mouth kisses to your neck as he navigates the hallway carefully, taking the measured and familiar steps to your bedroom.

He lays you gently on the mattress, placing you delicately among the pillows before he’s shedding his shirt and pants, kicking his boxer briefs off to the side and then settling back between your legs.

This time, your thighs squeeze at his head when he sucks your pussy into his mouth particularly hard, tongue dipping inside of you, and your fingers fly into his hair, scratching at his scalp in warning.

“Behave, moy muzh.” you hiss through gritted teeth, even if the way you writhe against his face tells him you like it. 

“You started it,” he reminds you, tugging on the dress resting around your middle. You huff, grabbing the bottom and peeling it off, tossing it in the direction of Andrei’s pile of clothes. 

Your eyes sparkle with mischief when you watch the way he takes in the sight of your naked body. No matter how many times the two of you do this, Andrei always looks at you the same way.

Like he’s in love, like it’s the first time, like for all he wants to take you apart, the way he’ll put you back together will be well worth it, and if it isn’t, he’ll work for it until it is.

“Pridi ko mne, lyubov' moya,” you beckon him. Come to me, my love.

His bottom lip drags against your clit as he rises from his position, tongue darting out to lick at your arousal still coating his lips, and the sight alone licks at the flame of arousal sparking low in your belly.

When he crawls up your body to kiss you, he props himself up on his arms, not wanting to rest his full weight on you, his delicate little almaznyy. Normally, you love it, but right now, you need something a little different. 

Your arms wrap around his neck as you seize his mouth in a bruising, desperate kiss, pulling him down to you and taking him by surprise as you manage to flip him onto his back on the way down. You take full advantage of his surprise by making your way down his body to settle between his legs, wrapping your fist around his cock and taking him into your mouth.

Andrei groans, sitting up on his elbows to watch you.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to make a baby if you keep doing that,” he warns, cock throbbing against your tongue as if to emphasize his point. 

You bat your eyelashes at him, sucking at the head of his cock and using your hands to stroke at him at the same time. He hisses, one of his hands flying to rest in your hair, the other resting behind his head and emphasizing the chiseled muscles of his arms, chest, and abdomen.

Sometimes, you couldn’t believe this man was your husband.

“Almaznyy,” he warns when you take him down your throat, swallowing around him. You’re slow to come off his cock, letting him leave your lips with a dramatic ‘pop.’

“I’m still on birth control,” you tell him. “So we can’t make a baby tonight anyway, probably not for another month, at least.”

His brows furrow, both from your statement and the way you twist your wrist, stroking his cock the way you know he likes. “Then what - ah yebat’ - what are we doing?” He asks, trying to focus on the conversation as you take him back in your throat. You hum a little, and he tugs on the strands of your hair again in warning.

You pull off of him, gently stroking your hand up and down, squeezing as you go. “Practicing, of course.”

He lets his arms fall out beside him, collapsing against the pillows and dragging his hands over his eyes. “Almaznyy,” he huffs, hips stuttering when you squeeze him at the base.

“Hmm?” You hum, ready to take him in your mouth again, but Andrei moves quickly, hauling you up his body and cradling you close as he flips you over again. He positions you among the pillows, placing one under your waist so you’re practically propped up for him. He positions himself so his arms rest in the crook of your knees, your ankles near his head as he folds his body over yours.

He takes his cock in his hand, running the head through your folds. “Practice?” 

You nod, “Practice, for now.” You reach out, pushing his hand out of the way so you can line his cock up with your entrance. “Which is why the desk was perfectly good, and-”

The rest of your words are stolen from you when Andrei bats your hand away gently and slides inside of you, slow but precise, bottoming out and nestling his body close to yours. Your eyes flutter shut when you squeeze around him, and his hands come up, cradling the sides of your face as he murmurs encouraging words to you, staying still until you’ve adjusted to his size.

“Almaznyy,” he calls, and your eyes blink open, glazed over and hazy and you’ve barely even started. “Good?”

You nod, tilting your hips a little, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. He laughs a little, shaking his head. “So damn impatient.” 

He raises his body off of yours a little, angling his hips and setting a steady pace, one that has you whining in protest almost immediately, grabbing at the muscles of his ass and trying to drag him closer.

“I won’t break Andrei-” you start, but he cuts you off with a particularly hard thrust that has your eyes rolling back into your head.

“I don’t care if it’s just practice, almaznyy.” He tells you, “and I don’t care how many times we have to practice. I’m going to make it last, and I’m going to make sure that you remember all the ways I fuck you and make love to you until I put a baby in you.”

You gasp a little, and Andrei smiles to himself, thoroughly pleased. He sits up, placing his hands on the backs of your thighs and settling in to fuck you just the way you like. He fucks you in deep, strong strokes, the head of his cock brushing up against that sensitive spot in your pussy every single time.

It steals your breath from you, and all the telltale signs of an orgasm approaching signal to Andrei like a beacon. The way your breathing catches in your throat, the way you can’t keep your eyes open, how your legs start to shake.

He takes his thumb and rests it on your clit, rubbing in lazy circles until your back arches off the bed, a satisfied cry echoing out of your throat and into the pillows beside your head when you come. Your pussy squeezes down in a way that makes Andrei’s head go dizzy, and then he’s coming with a groan, pushing your hips down onto him as he buries himself to the hilt, his orgasm sudden and a shock to his system.

It takes him a second to catch his breath, and moves your legs off of his shoulders to make it easier to pull out of you and give you reprieve, but a noise of protest leaves your throat, and your ankles lock at the base of his spine. 

He pauses, glancing at you curiously when he notices the look on your face.

Andrei thinks back to before you left for San Jose, the day he took you in the shower, and how upset you’d been when he set you down on your feet.

It clicks in his head, then. What you’d been upset about.

He’s still hard - he’s practically always hard when he’s around you - so he moves his hips, slowly pulling back an inch before pushing back inside. You throw your head back, his name leaving your lips in relief, and he smirks. 

Fucking you in shallow thrusts, thumb circling your clit, Andrei watches in fascination as he pushes his come back inside of you with his cock, watches the way your pretty face twists in pleasure, and hums satisfactorily to himself. 

“Is this what you’ve been needing, moya zhena?” He asks, eyes on yours the whole time. “How long have you wanted this?”

You can barely answer him, your head thrown back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, back still arched and pushing those beautiful tits of yours up. Andrei takes them in his hands, massaging them, and you keen, pushing into his hands and pussy trying to retreat from his cock with nowhere to go.

The sensation feels different for him. He’s hypersensitive now, all too away of the slick slide of his cock, of your mixed come leaking out of you before he pushes back in, feels heat begin to prick at his skin when your pussy continues to flutter and squeeze, like it’s trying to keep him inside of you. With every brush of his finger over your nipples, your pussy squeezes and you try to pull off of him, but in the next breath you’re winding your hips, pushing back down until he’s buried to the hilt.

Andrei pushes your legs up again before he rests his weight on you gently, his shoulders under your knees, burying his face in your neck and placing his hands under your ass, cradling you closer to him as he starts to fuck you in deeper strokes, drowning in the pleased little noises leaving your lips.

“Ty chuvstvuyesh' sebya tak khorosho, dorogaya,” he murmurs against your neck. You feel so good, darling. 

“Andrei,” you finally manage to breathe out, and relief floods through his veins. There were times when you two made love that you got so lost in the pleasure that you couldn’t speak to him, and it worried Andrei to no end. But you always came back to him, always called for him, and the same calm washes over his body, a shiver running up his spine.

Your arms come up, wrapping around his neck and arching your back, giving him more access to you. Andrei hums, pleased, sucking a bruise into your skin while his cock starts to throb from where he’s fucking you, can feel a second orgasm creeping up when he bites down gently, raking his teeth over the sensitive skin and you start to squeeze and clench around him.

“Gonna come again, almaznyy?” He asks, nosing along your jaw. “Want me to come again, too?”

You nod, turning your head and Andrei meets you, slotting your lips together and swallowing your moans down when you shake gently beneath him, back arching and pushing your body closer to his. His eyes squeeze shut, electricity zipping up his spine when your orgasm tips him over the edge and he’s spilling into you again, groaning against your jaw.

His arms come out from under you and he gently eases your legs back down against the bed, massaging the muscles as he does. Instead of resting them against the bed though, you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at his lower back, and Andrei laughs. 

Gently, he rolls you both until he’s laying underneath you instead, careful to keep himself nestled inside of you, and he smiles to himself when you do a half cat-like stretch before sprawling across his chest. 

A pleased little exhale greets his ears after a moment, and his hand comes up, rubbing gentle circles in your back. “Made you lunch,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “‘S in the kitchen.”

“Spasibo, almaznyy.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We should go eat it then, it’s probably cold by now.”

“It’s the chicken caesar salad wraps you like.” You say, lips dragging across his chest as you speak. “And I made strawberry lemonade this morning, should be ready by now.”

He nods, tapping your flank gently. “We should get up, malyshka. Get cleaned up.”

You nod, but you’ve got that look in your eye like before, like you’re disappointed as you carefully lift yourself off of him and roll onto the mattress beside him. Andrei rolls onto his side, cradling your face in his hands. “What’s wrong, moya zhena?” 

You shake your head, a small smile gracing your lips. “Nothing’s wrong, just…excited, is all.”

“Excited?”

“To start a family with you,” you clarify. 

“Then why do you look so sad?” He wonders, thumbing at the pout in your bottom lip.

You laugh, nose scrunching a little before cuddling into him. “It’s silly - I just wanted to start now.”

“It’s only a month, right?” He asks. You nod, nose rubbing at his pec, and he smiles to himself. “That’s good - plenty of time for us to practice, then? Wanna make sure we get it right on the first try.”

You snort. “Perfektsionist.” Perfectionist.

“Only the best for you, moya zhena.” Andrei says, teasing. Underneath it though, you both know that he’s serious. Because if anything, even as he rises from the bed and lifts you in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom, you know he never does anything half assed. 

Now that you’re both on the same page, he’s going to do everything he can to ensure you’re well looked after from beginning to end, and when your little baby eventually comes, he’s going to work twice as hard to make sure the both of you are taken care of, and that you’ll want for nothing.

You, his almaznyy, and your future child, his malen'kaya rubin. His little ruby.

[ghostbeam]

empty til she fills | fuyumi todoroki x reader

You’re beautiful, really. It’s truly no wonder why they chose you for the job, every line and curve and fold. They’ll never be able to capture you the way you really are. Nothing compares to the real thing.

Her eyes gaze over your neck, down your chest, over your stomach, your thighs. That familiar hunger sits in Fuyumi’s stomach, aches in her jaw. She wants to bite you everywhere that she can, really make you bleed. But Fuyumi doesn’t feed from anything but animals, and it’s not like you’d satisfy her hunger anyway. She’s given up on that feeling a long time ago.

Notes: Hiiiii everyone!!! This is the first installment of vampire empire and it’s all about fuyumi!!! It’s much shorter than I thought, but when it was done it was done u know? I love her I think she should be allowed to go apeshit and drink blood and not hold back if she wants to!!!!!!! Let her fuck!!!!!! Anyways yeah thanks for reading!! (title from vampire empire by big thief) u can listen to the playlist for the whole anthology here! Also I made a Pinterest board!

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, f! reader, explicit content, dark content, angst for like the briefest moment, violence, vampires, detailed descriptions of blood and gore (on both reader and another person), murder (u kill someone! It’s offscreen tho), blood kink, biting, drinking blood (fuyumi drinks from reader, u both drink from the dead man), biting and drinking from already open wounds, fingering, oral (reader eats fuyumi out!!! Yay!!!) (bloody), bloody sex, reader is sort of a masochist, soooo many commas, a line completely stolen from fascination (1979) cause I had to ajsjsjsjs, perspective changes between u and fuyumi like a lot idk I’m sorry she spoke to me<3

words: 4.3k

Fuyumi has always been a little unsure of what to do with her hands. When she sits, when she walks, when she kisses, while she waits. Where does she put them? Where do they go?

It’s the same, squeezing porcelain clay through her fingers, molding and shaping and running a wire through the middle and cursing when it doesn’t topple over. She’s bad with her hands, but she loves it, lumpy mugs and all. 

And her mugs are lumpy, most of them break in the kiln, but whatever she’s proud of, she sends to her brothers. 

She’s never been much of an artist, and all the years she’s lived (many, many years), none of it ever interested her. But when you’ve done everything, there’s no harm in trying. And so even though her pots and bowls end up twisted and misshapen on the wheel, she tries and tries until they’re at least a little bit useful.

The truth is that there, in the studio, surrounded by people who do all the same things that she does, mess up and try again, break things when they don’t turn out, or smash fragile wet clay held together by careful hands, Fuyumi feels human. She makes mistakes. She screws up. It’s something she’s never been allowed to do before. 

Plus, you’re there. 

The anatomy class pays you to model. Sometimes, she sees you run around in your long robe, buying snacks from the vending machines or remembering something you left in your car. She’s completely enamored with you, with your humanity, how free you seem. She’s envious, in a way, but really she just likes you, wants you—wants to bite you. Which is dangerous for Fuyumi because she stopped feeding from humans ages ago. 

You collide on a Saturday night, left alone in the studio, separated by one wall. Fuyumi works late because she doesn’t sleep, and one of the owners of the building had given her a set of keys to lock up when she leaves. When she opens the door to the pottery studio, you’re out in the hallway, slapping your palm against the door next door and murmuring soft no’s as you peak through the glass. You have half a mind to just bust the thing down, except now you’re not alone in the hallway. 

Fuyumi. The pretty vampire with streaks of scarlet through her ivory hair, cute glasses perched on her nose, and hands you think about way more often than you should steps out of the pottery studio. You’ve caught her staring at you before, and you can’t tell if it’s because she knows of the similar condition you have in common, or if she’s as interested in you as you are in her. 

You both pause, caught staring at one another. The only thing on Fuyumi’s mind is that you’re probably completely naked under your robe. 

“I—um, got locked out.” You say, finally, blowing air you have no need for out of your throat like a breath. It must be nerves. “My clothes are in there. My everything is in there.”

“Oh!” She shakes her head free of the thoughts of your bare body. Then a realization, “I have a key!”

You move out of her way and let her unlock the door, jiggling the key in the lock and pushing it open. You grin, press your hands into her shoulders and let out a squeal of delight. “Thank you!”

“Yeah, no problem.” She speaks, willing herself not to melt at the feeling of your fingers digging into her flesh for a moment. She turns to leave, satisfied with the interaction, enough to hold her over for a lifetime, maybe. Your hands on her shoulders, your robe against your skin, your neck. 

“Fuyumi!” You call, and she feels like maybe she’s dreaming, or maybe she’s hearing things. But when she turns around, you’re looking at her expectantly. “Would you wait for me? I don’t really wanna walk to my car alone at night.”

It’s a good excuse, you think. Fuyumi’s got that bleeding heart (or lack of one). She won’t leave you alone. 

“‘Course! Yeah, I’ve gotta lock the front, anyways, so—yeah, I’ll wait.” She nods, stepping back into the room and letting the door fall shut behind her. She watches you untie you’re robe at the middle, and she spins on her heel, facing the door again. She hears you chuckle, and it makes her feel a little silly. You’re naked for, like, four hours every day. It’s not like you would care if she watched. 

But Fuyumi cares, because she doesn’t want to see you naked for the first time like that. She doesn’t want to see you naked and know she won’t be able to touch you. 

“Okay, you can turn around, now.” You speak now that you’re dressed. She turns and you walk toward her, locking elbows. She leads you outside, locks the door with your hand against her arm like she’s yours, and walks you to your car. 

“Guess I’ll see you next week.” She tells you, pulling away from you to walk to her bike. You call her name and it’s deja vu.

“Do you want to go get coffee?” You ask, stopping Fuyumi in her tracks yet again. She turns.

“It’s eleven o’clock at night.” Fuyumi says like an idiot. 

“I just—I wanna keep…hanging out.” You say, and well, so does Fuyumi. Of course, she does. “Your bike’ll fit in the trunk. I’ll drive you home after.”

So, she says yes, stuffs her bike into your trunk with the back seats folded down, and ducks into your car. 

You drive like a maniac, and you listen to your music way too loud, and Fuyumi hopes she doesn’t look as terrified as she feels despite knowing she can’t die in a car accident. But you can, she thinks, so yea, she’s terrified. And you drive like this all the time?

But you both make it in one piece, skirting into the parking lot of a diner with a yellowing neon sign out front. Everyone knows you inside, greeting you with happy smiles and asking you questions about your life, details Fuyumi hopes to know after tonight. 

You take her to a booth in the corner, sliding in next to her instead of across, thighs pressed up against each other as a waitress brings you both a mug of hot coffee. You order apple pie with ice cream, and Fuyumi envies the fact that you’re even able to eat it. Since becoming a vampire, she’s lost any appetite for anything that isn’t blood. 

“So, when were you turned?” You speak, licking vanilla ice cream off the back of your spoon, head resting on you fist as you stare at her. If Fuyumi had a working heart it would be beating out of her chest right now. “I don’t think you’re all that old. You actually seem pretty young. Tell me, maybe in the mid nineties, early two-thousands?”

Fuyumi opens then closes her mouth, unsure of what to say. How could you have possibly known (besides the fact that you got the decade way off)?

“I was turned in ’87 by an old boyfriend who couldn’t control himself.” You shrug, revealing the information like you hadn’t just told her that you, the little human she’s been so fascinated by lately, are a vampire. 

“You’re a vampire.” She says—a statement—not a question, because of course, you’re a vampire. 

“You didn’t know?” You ask, softer. She shakes her head, stares at the booth in front of her. She feels your fingers underneath her chin, and she’s not sure how she never noticed it before, but you’re hands are freezing. She lets you guide her to look at you. “Hey, are you okay? Did I freak you out?”

And it’s not that you’re a vampire. It’s not even that you’re a vampire that she was convinced was human. It’s that she wanted to bite you, wanted to feel that pop and gush, drink from you what’s not actually even being pumped through your body anymore, blood that’s lying dormant in your veins. And the thing is, she still wants to. 

“I think I’m just shocked.” She speaks, willing herself to calm down, accept the situation, adapt. “I haven’t met another one of us here in town. It’s new, but it’s…good. I’m actually a little excited about it.”

“You don’t sound excited.” You observe, letting your hand fall to her thigh. 

“I am—no really. I am.” She grins, leaning toward you. “How come you can eat real food?”

You think maybe she still hasn’t processed everything yet, the smile on her face a little unnerving. And there’s something in her eyes, raw, dangerous, hungry. It makes you shiver. “I never lost the appetite.”

“It tastes good to you?” 

“So good.” You nod, unknowingly moving a little closer. Two girls pressed up against each other in a booth in a dark corner. Two vampires. Two monsters. 

You’re there later than either of you expected to be, fingers intertwined, hands brushing away stray hairs, and words whispered against ears, tucking your face into her neck when you laugh at something inappropriate. 

When you leave, Fuyumi tugs on your hand, interlocks two fingers as you walk to your car. You drive just as bad, but she doesn’t think she minds it this time. To die by your side, and all that. 

When you drop her off at home, you scribble your number on her wrist with a green glitter gel pen and resist the urge to do something drastic like kiss her or invite yourself in. 

Fuyumi realizes she’s left her bike in your trunk, her only mode of transportation to the studio besides walking. She eyes the green glitter on her skin and opens her phone. 

left my bike in ur car:/ pick me up to go to the studio tmrrw? Read 2:22am

be there at 10 sent 2:24am

u can sit in on my class sent 2:25am

…

She does sit in on your class the next morning. You hold her hand and show her where to sit, a view of both the artist’s sketches of you and the actual you draped over a couch. It’s probably inappropriate to sit there all horny in the middle of this art class, but you won’t stop looking at her. You know exactly what your doing, mimicking the rise and fall of your chest like you’re breathing when she knows you’re not. 

You’re beautiful, really. It’s truly no wonder why they chose you for the job, every line and curve and fold. They’ll never be able to capture you the way you really are. Nothing compares to the real thing.

Her eyes gaze over your neck, down your chest, over your stomach, your thighs. That familiar hunger sits in Fuyumi’s stomach, aches in her jaw. She wants to bite you everywhere that she can, really make you bleed. But Fuyumi doesn’t feed from anything but animals, and it’s not like you’d satisfy her hunger anyway. She’s given up on that feeling a long time ago.

When the class ends, Fuyumi leaves to make more misshapen mugs, taking a few out of the kiln she thinks she’ll give to you. As the sun sets, both of you get ready to leave, and you’re at the door to the pottery studio by the time Fuyumi is done cleaning her space. You’re a little disappointed you missed watching her on the wheel, her pretty hands shaping the clay like you’ve seen her do many times before. You knock on the door frame, and she looks up at you, grins. Her hair is tied up, pieces of hair falling over her face, her cardigan falling down and exposing her right shoulder. You can’t get over how pretty she is, a little messy.

“Hi.” You speak.

“Hey. You ready?” She asks, throwing her bag over her shoulder and walking towards you. You always want to watch her walk towards you—never away.

“I’m ready.” You nod, intertwining your fingers with hers when she makes her way towards you. You drive Fuyumi to your house, your arm over the console and your hand on her thigh. 

Your place is small, really just big enough for you. The walls are a mauve color that Fuyumi decides she likes, tiny star shaped twinkle lights hang over each window instead of curtains, a bundle of violets stuffed inside a beer bottle sit on your coffee table, books and dvd’s and records all stacked against one another with what seems to be no sense of organization in your bookcases. It’s really not much for a vampire.

She sets her tote bag carefully on the counter, red and white checkered, pulling two of her signature misshapen mugs from inside. One painted blue with tiny yellow stars and the other lined with terribly drawn strawberries. 

“These are for you.” She tells you, turning to face you as you’re bent over your stereo, looking for a station you like. Bits from the past stick with you like a refrigerator magnet. Fuyumi wants to remember the look on your face when you turn around and see her gift for the rest of her life. 

“I love them!” You gush, rushing over to pick both of them up. “They’re perfect. One for me, and one for you. We’ll drink blood from them with our pinkies up and cheers to LeFanu.”

Fuyumi laughs, says nothing about the blood. “I’m glad you like them.”

You turn around, opening one of your cabinets open with a finger, setting the mugs down on the counter and moving two snoopy holiday mugs on one shelf towards the back. You set the gift down in their place and wave a hand over it like your presenting them on a gameshow, “I’ve replaced the snoopy mugs with them. That’s a big deal, you know.”

“I’m honored.” Fuyumi grins, moving around the counter to stand near you. 

“You should be.” You lean a little closer to her, let her hand brush against your hip, hook her fingers in your belt loops. You nudge your nose against hers, and she takes that as a sign to kiss you. 

Chapped lips meet yours, hungrier than you expected, much less soft than the girl before you. There’s a burning in your gut, her hands, those hands you’ve payed so much attention to, pressing into your hips, pulling you flush against her front. You let out a moan when she swipes her tongue against your lip, your bodies pressing closer and closer like you’ll become one person. She moves her leg in between your thighs, pressed up against you, and your mouth falls open in a gasp, one she wastes no time taking advantage of, all tongue and teeth, all her, her, her. 

The two of you end up on your couch, unable to make it to the bed. If you had to wait any longer, you think maybe you’d both explode. She eats you out, there in your living room, makes you come three times in a row, familiar hungry eyes never stray from your own. 

…

She doesn’t talk about the vampire thing. Ever. She goes quiet when you bring it up, busying herself with something else like washing the dishes in your sink or trying to find something to watch on tv. You mostly let it go because you know Fuyumi. You know how fascinated she is by humans, how she envies them, how that envy and fascination is the very reason you’re together now. 

And maybe it should hurt you, the fact that believing you were human was the one reason she’d been so interested. But you know her, bleeding unbeating heart and all, she loves you. She loves you and your monster, she just doesn’t love her’s.

It’s difficult to drag the body through your house alone, vampire strength being something you hadn’t been blessed with once you’d turned all those years ago. Fuyumi sent you a message that she’d be at the studio late and would probably just end up going home instead of coming over. You figure you have time to drain this guy of all he’s worth, pack him up into little tupperwares in your fridge and be done with him by morning. 

You’ve done this a million times before, dragged a body out to your back yard, fed from it until your satisfied before saving the rest. It’s enough to last you a couple of weeks. It’s a good system. 

You don’t hear the sliding door open, you just hear Fuyumi say your name. You look up at her, blood on your mouth, your neck, your hands, fangs poking out underneath your top lip. You’re sure you look terrifying, but it’s the look on her face that scares you. 

It’s disgust, and betrayal, and anger. It’s tears welling up in her pretty, gray eyes and her mouth falling open and closed at the sight of you. 

But Fuyumi, well, Fuyumi wants to join you. It’s taking everything in her not to fall to her knees and sink her teeth into the neck of this possibly innocent man. She wants to drink and kiss you, and drink, and touch you, and then drink some more, this time from your neck. But Fuyumi doesn’t kill for blood, and she thought that neither did you. 

“I can’t believe you.” Her words are quiet. If you both hadn’t been outside on a completely silent night, you don’t think you would have even heard her. 

“Fuyumi…” You begin, standing up from where you’d previously crouched down, blood on your hands falling against the concrete in sticky splatters. She takes a step back like she’s scared of you. 

“You killed him.”

“Fuyumi,” another step.

“Stay there.” You stop. It’s not supposed to be like this. She’s supposed to love you. She does love you. You have to tell yourself that. 

“I’m a vampire. What did you expect? This is who we are.” You try to explain. 

“It’s not—it’s not who I am.” She shakes her head, flashes of red appear behind her eyes, the teeth of her brothers, her hands covered in blood the same way yours are now. Laughing, hollering, arms tangled together, the last time they’d all been with each other, the last time they were happy. 

“It is. It is who you are. Fuyumi, you’re starving.” Your words seem to do something to her, her mouth falls closed. A decision is made, and her feet take her closer and closer to you and the body on the floor. 

She wraps her hand around the back of your neck, thumbs through the blood you’re covered in and kisses you. She licks the blood on your lips, moaning from either your tongue or taste, you’re unsure. You pull her close, blood smearing against her white t-shirt. She pulls away from your lips, kissing your jaw and your neck, poking her tongue out to lick up the mess. You place your hands on her cheeks, pulling her back to look at you. 

“Come here.” You whisper, pulling her down as you crouch to the ground. “I want you to drink—I want to share.”

She lets you pull her down, taking your hand in hers, slippery, slick. You move away from his neck, leaving it open for her, urging her. This is what she wants. There’s something about drinking from your bite in the man’s neck. You’ve been here, you’re bite is her bite is her blood. 

And, god, is it delicious. She drinks, lets it fall down her throat in large gulps, dripping down her chin and neck. A sound escapes her throat, guttural, everything she’s deprived herself of having, here in between her teeth. She watches you while she drinks, eyes looking up through white lashes, reaching a hand out to hold you by the wrist, grounded. She pulls away, heaving, even though she has no need for breath. Her lips, saturated in red, begging to be tasted.

“You’re beautiful like that,” You speak, squeezing her hand, “with his blood on your mouth.”

She kisses you, all tongue, her fangs catching on your bottom lip. She pulls away and pushes you down, lets you bite the other side of the dead man’s neck, pets your hair as you drink. It goes on like this for a while, kissing, drinking, touching, whispers of please and oh, god and both of your names over and over until you’re a jumbled mess of words and sounds and blood and guts. 

You stumble, half naked through the door, Fuyumi’s hands and lips all over you. You don’t make it to the bed, a habit the two of you have seemed to form, falling down on the hardwood, limbs all tangled. With her shirt already discarded outside, you thumb the hooks of her bra open, throwing it to the side. Blood has dripped from her throat down between the valley of her breasts, and you lick it up, feeling her back arch as she hovers above you. 

She kisses your neck, almost frantic. Her fangs brush against your skin like she might sink into you, but she doesn’t, just kisses you so sweetly. 

“Can I bite you, please?” She moans. “I need to—I’ve wanted to—”

“Yes.” You interrupt her, throwing your head back against the floor and baring your neck to her. She wastes no time sinking her fangs into your flesh, blood pouring into her mouth. Coppery and sweet, a hint of licorice and cherry—Fuyumi thinks she can’t get enough. You gasp, hands grabbing at her waist, fingers digging into her sides enough to leave a mark. You’ve never felt pain like this, all agony and bliss. 

She smiles at you, bloody, when she pulls away. A part of you is her’s now, nestled between her ribs, living in her stomach. You taste yourself on her lips, hands pulling at her jeans, your leg moving between her thighs to grind against her cunt. 

You flip her onto her back, sucking on her neck, venturing down her body. You pull her jeans from her legs, along with her underwear, spreading her legs. She’s so wet, thighs sticky with arousal as you run a finger through her folds. A whine escapes her lips as you thumb over her clit. With your eyes on her, you press your tongue to her entrance, watching how her face contorts in pleasure. It reminds you of the way she’d stared at you while drinking from the man, hand clutched to your wrist, not once daring to look away, With one hand, you reach up to do the same, bloody fingers circling her wrist as you devour her. 

She writhes, arching her back and grinding against your face, a mess of slick and blood pooling in your mouth as you bring her closer and closer to orgasm. 

“Please!” She cries, “please! Oh my god!”

Her moans only spur you on as you speed up the movement of your tongue, squeezing her wrist as you let her move her hips against your mouth. She comes with a strangled cry of your name, legs shaking around your head, falling limp against the floor as you lick at her swollen clit. You pull away, rising from your place in between her thighs to hover over her.

“Like that?” You ask her, placing soft kisses against her jaw. She manages a soft mhm before moving her face to kiss you.You run your hands up and down the sides of her body, “so pretty…”

“Let me touch you.” She begs, pushing herself up onto her elbows. You nod, letting her maneuver you so you’re on your back again. She kisses you again, swirling her tongue against yours, tasting herself. In a way, part of her is yours now, too.

She slips her hand into your underwear, gasping at the feeling of how wet you are. You take the opportunity to lick into her mouth, moaning against her lips as she slips two fingers inside of you. She pulls away from your mouth and eyes the open wound on your neck. You lock eyes with her, nodding in approval, allowing her to bite you again. 

She bites and curls her fingers inside you at the same time. A choked scream escapes your throat at both sensations. You move your hips as she pumps her fingers in and out of you, her throat bobbing with each drink she takes from you. It’s overwhelming, and so satisfying, being the consumed for a change. 

Her thumb brushes over your clit and you jolt, gripping her waist as she brings you closer to the edge. 

“Kiss me!” You cry, “Fuyumi!” 

She pulls away from your neck, watching how the blood flows from the wound, continuing her movements against your pussy. You pull her down to kiss you as you come from her fingers. You’re both moaning against each other, passing your blood between your tongues. She pulls her hand from between your legs, stares at the pink-tinted slick and how it webs between her fingers before wrapping her lips around her fingers and sucking them clean off. 

She smiles down at you, hair a mess, glasses-less as they’d fallen off much earlier. You press your palms against her cheeks, admiring her. This Fuyumi is hungry, and bloody, and the furthest thing from human. You love her like this. You’ll be her’s forever, if she’ll have you. 

You pull her into the shower with you, washing the blood from her hair and her back, taking turns and watching the blood swirl down the drain. She cleans the wound on your neck, and places a bandage over it, though you know it’ll be healed by morning. You place her glasses back onto her face. The two of you fall into bed, finally, arms and legs tangled together, huddled closely. She rubs over the bandage on your neck. 

“Next time, I wanna bite you, okay?” You ask, nudging your nose against her. She lets out a laugh you’re excited to hear for the rest of your immortal life and nods. 

“I can’t wait.”

[humblebeginningsceramics]

In 2022, I took my first pottery course with a friend. It was a short two-day course over a weekend, which suited us as we were swamped on weekdays with our daytime jobs. I was going through a difficult time and I found that working with clay was therapeutic for me.

After the course I continued with the pottery slowly, fitting it in whenever I could. It wasn’t a regular occurrence as studio time was pricey, and its being far away from home and only open on weekdays meant that I spent only a few hours there each time after work, twice a week if I was lucky. I felt that with these limitations, my progress was also limited, and I often felt frustrated that I could not accomplish more in a short period.

I often feel frustrated with my lack of progress, still. I encounter failure a lot learning on my own, trial and error, gritting my teeth, researching my mistakes, and trying again, sometimes repeatedly. I sometimes feel impatient with myself; I have so many ideas for things I want to make but my skills don’t yet allow me to materialise them.

A few days ago, I sent this photo of a piece from my recent kiln unload to the same friend I took the first pottery course with. She was enthusiastic and said it was sophisticated and that it was incredible to see my improvement. I was surprised, as I had been down about my lack of progress, but now I suspect I have just been too close to the making all this time to see how far I’ve come.

I started late with pottery, you know, art was not greatly encouraged in my culture as something to be pursued. Making time for the things you want to do as an adult is difficult, but do a little bit each time, even 10 minutes a day dedicated to your hobby is time of your own. I have a long list of things I want to make and I may not be able to make them now, but I know that if I just keep going I’ll get there! Cheers to all of you for being so brave!

[thedevils7thstring]

Ok so I haven’t seen anyone else do this so I guess I’ll be the first to make a Mumboville oc. I’m absolutely loving the world Mumbo is building in Season 10 so I thought I’d try my hand making a character for the town.

Storage: Terracotta, clay, and pottery shards

Store: Pottery Studio

Store Name: The Garage Sale

Character Name: Tammy

Story: Tammy is around Jr’s (Willy Jr. but everyone in town just calls him Jr) age and started selling pottery out of her house as a way to pay for college, but even after graduating she still kept going because everyone in town really liked her work, so eventually she renovated her garage into a full on pottery studio where she makes all sorts of pots, mugs, plates, etc. She doesn’t exactly have a store, it’s just her house with a pottery studio in her garage and a small makeshift storefront set up outside of the garage. Bunch of wooden shelves and tables with all sorts of colorful pottery. The name comes from a joke that everyone thinks it looks like she’s constantly having a garage sale.

Business Card: I don’t think she’d really have a business card, I like the idea that she has custom printed price tags and stickers that she uses to tape store bags closed. The logo is a circle with the words “The Garage Sale,” curved over the top. Inside the circle is a smiling person holding up a pot.

Mini Story Thing: Tammy notices that the girl who runs the flower shop down the street comes to The Garage a lot. At first she thought it was because she was just getting pots for flowers but eventually realized that she wasn’t buying anything…

I will be updating later with a drawing of Tammy and the “Business Card”

[firefly-ghoul]

WHAT HOBBIES I THINK THE GHOULS HAVE

This is my first time writing head-canons so be nice to me please! Anyway let’s get on with the hobbies!(if you see grammar errors no you don’t:3)

Aether

I think aether bakes but he takes it SO seriously. He has a journal of carefully curated recipes that he has spent YEARS perfecting. Aether has a special spot in his recipe journal for all the ghouls favorite type of cake and he makes them birthday cakes every year. Aethers favorite thing to bake is cookies. He makes big batches of cookies and gives them to his band mates on designated movie nights. He loves decorating cakes with the sisters of sin who work in the kitchen.

Sodo

Sodo dose glass work as a job and hobby. he helps make and maintain all of the stain glass around the ministry with a small group of sisters. He hand picked each sister both experienced and inexperienced with glass work. He teaches them everything he knows and enjoys helping them with learning curves and the difficult parts. He’s glass making studio is located directly underneath the abbey. But hobby wise sodo loves making glass sun catchers. Sodo also enjoys makes little glass figures and gives them to the siblings and older children. Since sodo is a fire ghoul when he works on glass he heats up his hands and is able to work without a blow torch. I personally headcanon he can breathe fire so he definitely uses that to help him.

Mountain

Mountain is soo obviously a plant dad but this man also does pottery! No one can tell me otherwise! His favorite things to make are cute pots for all his plants! He also makes vases for all the flowers he collects from the garden. He takes a day off every week and goes into to Forrest surrounding the ministry and forages for clay. He comes back completely covered in mud and grinning like a mad man. He makes everyone mugs for special occasions like birthdays and holidays. The thing he is most proud of is a pomegranate tea set that took him months to make. He very proudly drinks tea out of it every morning before heading out to work in the gardens

Phantom

PHANTOM IS A DND NERD! He and a group of siblings play dnd together every week. He plays as a vampire elf bard and is very proud of his character. He was very nervous when he first started playing dnd but the more he started playing the more confident he got with the siblings encouragement. He totally hasn’t almost tpk his party because he tried to fight a family of yetis by himself. (Totally not based on personal experiences) He loves dice! He is a dice goblin and has hundreds of dice. He is vary superstitious about his dice. His favorite set of dice are a set Swiss got him that are purple with bat on the 20.

rain

Rain obviously does water colors. Rains favorite thing to paint is landscapes he especially loves painting beaches. He also loves painting flowers. he sometimes going to the ministry gardens and painting all the flowers he sees. Rain like to take a day and hike to the middle of the woods and paints what he sees. He doesn’t paint people a lot but when he does he likes to have a live reference so he will ask some of the ghouls to pose for him. He likes when mountain model for him because he doesn’t move around like some (cough cough Aurora and Swiss cough) of the the ghouls. Rain gets very shy and blushes bright blue when anyone compliments is art.

Swiss

this kreecher (affectionately) explores abandon places and grave yards. He sometimes tries and finds cryptids (As if he isn’t one.) and ghosts. Swiss will bring ghost hunting equipment with him when he goes to places he’s already explored to spice things up. Swiss’s favorite tool is the spirit box. He finds the response’s form the ghost so funny. One time swiss took aurora with him to an abandoned hospital to hang out. He challenged aurora to stay in a room by herself for five minutes with the spirit box. She absolutely freaked when it started to talk to her (he didn’t tell her what it was meant for) and booked it back to where Swiss was. Aurora never never went ghost hunting again.

aurora

Speaking of aurora I think aurora embroiders. cirrus originality taught her simple things she aurora ran with it. Aurora has a lot of energy so she sometimes have a hard time focusing when something doesn’t grab her attention or when she doesn’t have anything to do with her fidgeting hands. So when she first started embroidering she was like “this something that takes my focus AND i have something to do with my hands…THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER!” She makes the most beautiful beaded plants. She will embroider a plant on every pare of pants she has. Also enjoys making embroidered patches for everyone. Makes all her friends pride flag patches.

Sunshine

My girl sunshine rollerblades! She has a pare of bright orange skates with light up wheels. She has gotten told of by sister imperator many times for rolling around the ministry to fast but she never listen. She sets a day off every week to put wd40 on her wheel bearings. She is very serious about taking care of her skates she treats them like they’re her babies. She knows so many tricks and definitely will teaches anyone who asks her how to skate and do tricks. Her favorite trick is skating backwards because is makes sister imperator nervous that she’s gonna bump into someone or something.

Cumulus

Cumulus loves puzzles so much. She challenges her self to start a new puzzle every month. her favorite types of puzzles are ones that have cute animals on them. Her comfort puzzle is a 900 piece puzzle with all kinds of kittens on them. She hosts a puzzle night in the library that everyone is invited to. She brings a 1000 piece puzzle and some snacks and she and everyone there works on the puzzle together. One time for her birthday all the ghouls got together and each got her a puzzle. She cried happy tears because she felt so loved. When she finished all of those puzzles she mogpoged framed them and hung them on her walls. they make her smile every time she sees them.

Cirrus

I think cirrus does photograph. She enjoys more dark and macabre themes so she often goes to the gave yards to take pictures. Cirrus joins Swiss on his explorations to capture the dark beauty of abandoned places. On the rare occasion she will photograph people but cirrus prefers taking pictures of places rather than people. One of her favorite things to photograph is the stained glass windows all over the ministry. Gets up before sunrise to get the best photos of the morning light shining through the glass.

[jbbartram-illu]

Do you have any advice for someone taking their first ever ceramics class soon? Are there any beginner tools you'd recommend? Your art is super inspiring and incredible!

I think my main advice would be to go in with enthusiasm & put aside any fear of screwing up -- clay can have a mind of its own & sometimes you have to make some shitty pots (or creatures) before you figure out how to listen to the clay and have it listen to you back!

This advice is particularly important if you're starting with wheel throwing, as there's a lot more going on/a lot more obscure hand positions/physics going on in the learning curve. Handbuilding/sculpting is a little less intense from the get-go, but still requires a willingness to futz around & learn the feel of the medium before you can get good.

In terms of tools, the studio should have everything you need, but if you do latch on to pottery like I did & decide to set up a home studio (or start doing your own outside-of-class work at the studio where you're taking classes, as some places do offer open studio time), I made a post a while ago going over my most-used tools.

These are specifically for sculpting, as I hadn't started making my mugs yet, but I use a lot of these for handbuilding the mugs as well...the only things I'd add for vessel-making are a full-size rolling pin (I have the most basic wooden one, purchased from a home hardware) & this scorer that makes scratching the joints of the mugs faster vs. a pin tool:

All my tools are handbuilding-oriented, as I don't work on the wheel right now, but I can tell you that some of the tools you need for wheel throwing are a pin tool, a wood tool to do the base, a sponge, a trimming tool, and maybe one or two other things I've forgotten?? I'm sure the lovely people where you're taking classes can also help out with tool suggestions (I generally find potters to be some of the kindest, most excited-to-share-techniques sorts of people)!

[jimin-jungshook-over-literalbae]

Blinding Lights Chapter Four

Hey guys, sorry about my impromptu break. The whole thing about Moonbin broke me. I had to step away for a bit. I didn’t want to write. Astro has always been my comfort group so I was struggling. I’m excited to get back into writing though. I hope you guys enjoy the new installment and thanks for all of the positive feedback!

Hybrids: Munchkin Cat Reader (Omega), Fox Jin (Omega), Panther Yoongi (Alpha), Golden Retriever Hoseok (Beta), Wolf Namjoon (Alpha), Calico Cat Jimin (Omega), Tiger Taehyung (Beta), Bunny Jungkook (Beta)

Masterlist

Word Count: 3534

Description: Y/N has spent the past seven years trapped in a hole in the floor. Forced in horrible situations she wished nothing more than to escape. When escape presents itself in the form of a group of seven hybrids, surely she must have finally snapped. Now, she has to figure out how a normal life works after being trapped in perpetual hell with her suddenly appearing mates.

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

Waking up sandwiched between Yoongi and Hoseok is warm and comfortable. Hoseok has flipped onto his back, I’m curled into his side and Yoongi is wrapped around my back. My cheek rests on Hoseok’s chest. Hoseok’s hand comes up to rest on my head, his fingers combing through my hair.

“Good Morning,” I whisper softly, glancing up at him.

“Good Morning, Sweet Girl,” His lips whisper across my hair.

We lay together for a while, whispering back and forth so we don’t wake Yoongi. He tells me stories of his time with the boys, some funny, some much less so. It helps me learn a lot about some of the other boys, specifically Namjoon and Jin, who I had spent the least amount of time with. They both seem to be rather busy, most of the time.

“So, Taehyung has a job? Like, how Jin has his own job? Where it isn’t involved in whatever it is you guys do?” I give him a perplexed look. He chuckles at my expression.

“Yeah. He works at an Art Museum. He does tours and sometimes, they let him display and sell his own pieces. That’s why he has an art studio. He goes through spurts of creating and he hasn’t been sleeping much because of it. He’s working hard,” His finger dances across my cheek, his touch soft and light.

“Hmm. That’s cool. It suits him. He is kind of like that hermit artist boyfriend that no one quit sure exists until they perceive him,” Yoongi’s arms tighten around me, his lips whispering against my neck.

“That was a lot of big words for this early in the morning,” Yoongi’s sleepy voice brushes along my neck, sending shivers down my spine as he noses my scent gland. A knock at the door interrupts the moment.

“Time to get up, babies. The cleaning crew is going to be here soon so we need to get breakfast in us. Jin just called out and got some take out so clean up will be easy,” Namjoon’s head sticks in the cracked door,” Is Tae with you guys?”

“No, just us three in here last night,” Hoseok gives him a confused look. Something about the question makes me uneasy.

“I’ll look for him. You guys go eat. I’m not really hungry yet,” I untangle myself from the boys and give Hoseok a quick kiss on the cheek, followed by a quick peck to Yoongi. I try not to get self conscious that all eyes are on me. I hop up and make my way to the door.

“Are you sure?” Namjoon’s words are worried as he opens the door further to let me out.

“Yeah. I don’t know if I can be down there right now. I’d rather look for Tae,” I pat his arm as I slip past. The first place I look is his art studio. When I open the door, I can’t help but gasp.

Smashed canvases litter the floor, some with various paintings on them. The pottery wheels we had used are over turned and crushed. A glance to the right shows a trashed supplies closet, various paints and clay and paint brushes decorate the floor, creating a huge mess. In the middle of the room, Taehyung kneels on the floor, his hands pressed to the floor and silent sobs racking through his body. His lips press together in an attempt to silence them.

“Oh, baby,” I approach him cautiously in case he doesn’t want me near, kneeling in front of him and wiping the tears from his face.

“They’re ruined,” His voice is broken and small, choked by tears,” My whole exhibition is ruined. They were going to let me have my own temporary installment but all of my work is gone.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” My fingers furiously wipe away every tear that falls. Tae’s cool scent is almost nonexistent, a ashy smell instead permeating the air. I run my fingers through his hair and pull him closer, wrapping my arms around him. His face buries in my neck as he unleashes his sobs,” I won’t tell you it’s going to be okay. I don’t know if there will ever be a time you’re okay with it. But I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Use me to hide until you feel like you’ll be okay.”

With some maneuvering, his face never leaving my neck, Taehyung sits cross legged on the floor with me in his lap. I hum quietly, running my fingers through his hair and just holding him. It’s only when his sobs begin to slow that the door bursts open. Jimin comes barreling through the door, a bag in his hand. His eyes widen when he realizes that Taehyung is crying and he drops the bag, his cinnamon apple scent wafting through the air.

“Tae-“ Jimin seems lost for words as he takes in the destruction. He sits behind Taehyung, wrapping his arms around him, his face nestled between Tae’s shoulder blades. Taehyung leans back into him, his sobs finally lessening into small whimpers. We remain silent as his head grows heavier and heavier on my shoulder. When his breathing evens out, that’s when I realize that he has fallen asleep.

“Jimin, you were supposed to be up here making sure they ate,” Hoseok’s tone is a joking scold as he steps into the room,” Aweeee, look at our cute little Omegas taking care of our Beta.”

Hoseok ruffles Jimin and I’s hair, causing me to blush. He reaches between the two of us and lifts Taehyung surprisingly easily. Namjoon hands me the forgotten bag on the floor, the food probably long cold. I eat a little bit but I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t hungry. Flashes of yesterday still flash through my mind. Holding Tae is the only time that I couldn’t feel that moment overwhelming me. It seems that being in my mate’s arms calms my still panicked Omega. She keeps thinking that our mates will begin to hate us, that Tae will begin to hate us because it’s our fault his studio was trashed.

“You should eat a little more, baby girl. The cleaners are gonna be here soon. It’s gonna be a long day,” Namjoon sits on the floor beside me, taking the partially eaten breakfast sandwich from my hand and holding it up to my mouth. Something about our Alpha feeding us has my Omega purring. I eat a few more bites before gently pushing his wrist away.

“I don’t wanna get sick,” I gnaw on my bottom lip, my hands falling in my lap,” Do you think Tae will be mad at me?”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows furrow in confusion. I quickly look down at my hands, my thumbs twisting together.

“It’s my fault his studio was trashed,” My voice is small,” They were looking for me. Maybe if-“

“Hey,” His fingers close around my chin, bringing my eyes up to his,” Get out of that head of yours. No one is mad. This isn’t your fault. None of this is. You didn’t trash his studio. I would much rather have a trashed house and you still here and breathing than a clean house and no you. Tae would feel the same.”

“We all do,” Jungkook pipes up. I jump a little, not realizing he was there,” The cleaners are here. We should vacate the room for now. Did we decide what we were gonna do for the day?”

“I hadn’t gotten that far. We thought you might like to go out with us for the day. Maybe have a little date,” Namjoon’s dimpled smile eases some of my tension at the idea,” Hoseok should have Tae ready to leave soon. He’s going to need a distraction for the day, anyway.”

“So, shopping at the big mall then? And the art supply store so he we can get him anything he needs to restock?” Jungkook pulls out his phone,” Is there anywhere else we need to go? Everyone’s going right? We all took the next few days off, right?”

“Whoa, slow down,” Namjoon stands and gathers the trash,” We could probably make a day of it. Get dinner, see a movie, maybe go to that arcade you and Jungkook wanted to go to. That should do it, I think. Try to keep it simple but give them enough time to get everything cleaned up.”

“Time to get the baby ready then. I volunteer!” Jungkook slips his phone back him his pocket and turns his attention to me. I quirk an eyebrow at him.

“You do know that I’m older than you, right?” I finally stand, stretching up on my toes for a second to loosen the tense muscles.

“No way, you’re way too tiny to be older than me,” Jungkook gives me an incredulous look. I roll my eyes.

“I’m a munchkin cat, of course I’m short. I’m the same age as Jimin, from what Hoseok said. That being said, I don’t think I need help picking out an outfit… unless you think I’m going to embarrass you,” I didn’t mean to include the last comment but the words flowed out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“No, never baby,” Jungkook steps closer, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks,” I just wanted an excuse to spend time with you.”

“Why don’t we all go get ready? It’s gonna be a long day,” Namjoon suggests. We all disperse, heading to our rooms to get clothes and change. If we’re going to be busy, I decide on a cute but comfortable outfit. A simple dress, some leggings, and some boots. I grab my phone from my night stand and shove it in a small purse that the boys had gotten me. It feels weird being in normal clothes. Some days, it’s like I’m back seven years ago and I’m just a normal girl. I feel anxious as I make my way downstairs. I can’t look in the direction of the kitchen. My arms wrap around myself, my body shaking slightly.

“Come here, pretty girl,” Jin smiles brightly at me, opening his arms. I enter them without thinking, my Omega begging for comfort. The comfort from another Omega always hits differently. She purrs as I nuzzle my face into his chest. It doesn’t take long for everyone to gather downstairs. One look at Taehyung’s face has me leaving Jin’s arms and wrapping my arms around him. I scent him gently, hoping to help him feel a little better. He clutches me to him tightly.

We disperse into two different SUVs. I sit cuddled into Taehyung’s lap with Jimin plastered against his side. Yoongi is driving with Hoseok acting as his navigator. Jungkook drives the other car with Namjoon and Jin. The mall we pull up to is massive. My eyes widen at the sight. We get out and Jin immediately kidnaps Taehyung, saying something about spoiling his baby boy. Yoongi stops in front of Jimin and I, holding out a black rectangle to me. I take it hesitantly.

“In case you find something you want. We’ve been meaning to give you one anyway,” In my hand lays a credit card.

“But I-“ I want to tell him that I didn’t contribute any money to it but he stops me.

“Everyone has one. Trust me, we make more than enough money, sweetheart,” He gives me a wink before turning back to the group. Jimin’s hand wraps around mine, a big smile on his face.

“Come on. It’ll be fun,” I trail behind Jimin, already feeling slightly overwhelmed at all the new smells. Jimin and I trail behind everyone else, his cheerful talking keeping me distracted from getting overwhelmed.

“Oooo, come on, this one is my favorite,” Jimin begins to drag me away from the group toward some high end, name brand store.

“Shouldn’t we say something?” I glance back at the rest of the boys as they continue on to a different store.

“Nah, we usually all split off to different stores. We just have to make sure there’s more than one person,” Jimin pulls me through the door and into the store. We browse the clothing and accessories. He picks out multiple things holds them up to me but the price tag is a bit of a deterrent. Plus, they’ve bought me so many things, I don’t want to spend anymore money on me. That’s when my idea blooms.

I move to the accessories section while Jimin looks at more clothes. There are necklaces, rings, and other various jewels in cases. Hoseok, Yoongi, and Jungkook wear a lot of rings. I worry about them not being the right size but something about a few certain rings speaks to me. As I’m picking them out and paying for them, a certain smell catches my attention, sending fear shooting up my spine. I take my bag and quickly thank the cashier before running to look for Jimin.

I find him cornered, a large Alpha, obviously in rut, has him trapped in the corner. His eyes meet mine, his expression nervous. I look around for some kind of weapon but there doesn’t seem to be anything of much use around. The Alpha hasn’t noticed me yet, seeming to have honed in on Jimin. Alpha’s in rut will focus in on the first Omega they encounter if they are not mated. Anything that can bring them the kind of relief they’re looking for. The fact that this one is in a public place concerns me.

“Come on, be a good boy and help an Alpha out,” The Alpha’s plea is probably meant to entice him but Jimin shudders. Maybe he doesn’t know Jimin is already mated? Although, he definitely smells like other Alphas. I step forward and grab Jimin’s hand, pulling him closer to me so his back isn’t against the shelves anymore.

“We should go. I bet Yoongi and Namjoon are looking for us,” I try to keep my tone cheerful but I doubt it’s convincing. My hand shakes in his.

“Awe, two little Omegas for the price of one? You guys should be begging to help an Alpha out,” The Alpha’s voice makes me cringe. I hate that tone. I’ve heard it too many times.

“Our Alphas are looking for us,” My voice is small but firm.

“No self respecting Alpha would let his Omegas wander off alone. You’d be better off with me anyway,” He’s trying to entice us, to convince us, but I can see the annoyance in Jimin’s expression.

“What right do you have to disrespect my Alphas? Just because we’re Omegas doesn’t mean we can’t go off by ourselves. We’re grown ass adults and your opinion doesn’t fucking matter,” Jimin’s voice is close to a growl. I squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“Such disrespectful little bitches need to be taught a lesson,” He raises his hand but stops in his tracks.

“You wanna run that by me one more time?” Yoongi’s voice is dark and stormy. I let out a long breath that I didn’t realize I was holding.

“Do these disrespectful Omegas belong to you?” The scent of the other Alpha’s rut intensifies at the presence of another Alpha. I cover my nose, taking a shuddering breath through my mouth. Since I’m not technically mated, the smell of his rut seems to be affecting me more than it does Jimin.

“It’s not disrespect if the person deserves it, way I see it. Now, I would appreciate it if you would leave my Omegas alone,” Yoongi’s arm casually drapes over my shoulder, pulling me back into him.

“This one,” He levels a finger at me,” Doesn’t have a mating mark. Maybe you’ll let me take her for a spin.”

“Do you wanna die?” Yoongi’s tone is casual but Jimin’s grip on my hand tightens.

“Hey guys, what’s the hold up? We still have a few more stops to hit?” Jungkook’s voice comes from the front of the store. The silence between the four of us allows us to hear his approaching footsteps. Jungkook stops behind us, seemingly confused,” What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Lets just get out of here,” I speak up, turning my back on the Alpha and gently push Yoongi back toward Jungkook. He resists for a moment and then lets me push him back. We leave the store and rejoin the rest of the group. I try to keep my mind off of the strange Alpha and his attempts at Jimin. I was used to people making passes or comments to me, as an unmated Omega, but it made me uncomfortable that he acted like that to Jimin.

I throw myself into my mission. I find a pair of matching necklaces for Jimin and Taehyung. A watch for Namjoon and a different, more discreet necklace for Jin. It’s a good thing I already bought Yoongi’s because he stays glued to my side. That Alpha must have really put him on edge because his Alpha seems to be bubbling up every time someone talks to me.

“Where do we wanna eat?” Jimin’s voice speaks out over the thrum of everyone’s chatter.

“Can we try that new steak house? I’ve been dying for a steak,” Jin grins, wrapping himself around Taehyung as he speaks. Taehyung seems to have cheered up significantly, especially after he got to go to the art supply store and order all new supplies.

We pile into our cars and head to the restaurant. I end up seated between Yoongi and Taehyung, at his request. I lean my head on his shoulder, letting Yoongi pick out what to order for me. I don’t really care, just feeling content to lean on Taehyung. It’s been a long day. The idle chatter dies down some when the food comes out. I keep my head on Tae’s shoulder, not quire ready to eat yet. I’m not used to eating so often.

“Baby, you need to eat,” The look Namjoon gives me a warning. I finally sit up and take a few bites of the steak in front of me. Yoongi puts some of his pasta on my plate. I cut up part of my steak and put it on his in return.

“I can’t eat all of it,” I shrug. The food makes me feel sleepy, my stomach quickly filling. From there, we head to the movie theater. I have no idea what movie we’re seeing but it doesn’t really matter. The seats recline and Taehyung has me sitting in his lap. I curl up, my face nuzzled into his neck. I doze off, the long day catching up to me. I sleep soundly until a hand shakes my shoulder.

“Huh?” I look up groggily to see an amused Hoseok.

“Looks like our babies were tired,” He coos. I look down to see that Taehyung has also fallen asleep. After we rouse him, we finally decide to forgo the arcade for tonight and head home. When we get home, I start handing out the gifts I bought everyone.

Jimin and Taehyung’s necklaces are on silver chains with compass pendants. Jin’s has a small silver lock on it and appears quite simple but suits him. Namjoon’s watch has a brown leather band and a silver watch face. Yoongi’s ring is silver and bulky with a blue stone. Hoseok’s is a complicated, twisted silver and gold band with no stone. Jimin’s is silver and winding, overlapping each other in some spots.

“Did you only buy things for us?” Namjoon looks at me in surprise.

“You guys have bought me so many things. There was nothing I needed to buy. I wanted to get you guys something,” Saying the sentiment out loud makes me feel shy. My fingers twist together as I look at the floor.

“Good thing I bought you something then,” I look up at Yoongi’s words. He holds out a small jewelry box to me. Inside is a silver ring with a white stone I don’t recognize,” White Opal. All of us have one and it was time you got yours too.”

He slips it out of the box and onto my finger. I throw my arms around him. It makes me feel like I belong. Everyone begins to split off, Jimin practically dragging Taehyung up the stairs. I make my way to my room after watching Jin escort (maybe more like drag) Yoongi upstairs to his room. It’s the first time I’ve been alone in my room. Something about being alone in here makes me anxious. After what happened to Jimin and I earlier, I decide to head down to Jungkook’s gym.

I lay out some mats and practice what he taught me. If I’m going to have to stand up for myself, I’m going to have to be stronger. I can’t keep standing by and letting them defend me. If I can’t defend myself, I’m always going to be the victim. I can’t be the victim anymore. It’s almost daylight by the time I decide I’ve practiced enough. I fall back on the mat, breathless and sweating. I close my eyes, exhausted. Without meaning to, I fall asleep.

[claypigeonpottery]

Hey, I'm Martine, the artist behind Clay Pigeon Pottery. my pronouns are she/he/they.

I’m married to the amazing @subpar-lemon-bar ❤️ and we’ve been married for 15 years

I started this tumblr mostly to think out loud and post pictures, it was more for me than anything. I didn’t expect it to get much attention tbh, but it’s really cool that so many people are enjoying and sharing my work.

I love talking pottery, so if you have opinions/questions/pieces to share, send me an ask or tag me in a post!

I've got an instagram and a tiktok (both under @claypigeonpottery) I update on instagram whenever I have instagram appropriate pottery to post, and tiktok... almost never. I'm backing away from Etsy as much as I can.

I've been making pottery for about eight years, painting and drawing for about nineteen years, and alive for thirty-five. My mom's the one who got me into pottery. We started taking classes together to help me overcome my agoraphobia. It (and many other difficult things besides) mostly worked. I'm not going to get into my health much here, though I may mention it sometimes as it relates to my pottery.

I decorate my pieces primarily with sgraffito (scratching away the clay after I've painted a piece with underglaze to reveal the clay underneath) but I also use the mishima technique to make fine lines, and paint with underglaze, and use a half dozen other techniques. Most of my designs incorporate nature and fantasy elements. Skulls are definitely a theme. I really enjoy sculpting bodies and have been doing a lot of that. I also particularly like perytons, jackalopes and wolpertingers.

I love pigeons, I have two, and I intend to make more pigeon-related pottery this year to live up to my username.

I mainly hand build my pottery, I haven't touched the wheel in a couple years. I usually tell people I'm more of a decorator than a potter, because most of my art skills were honed drawing and painting, but I do love the clay side of it too. If you spot wheel thrown pieces amongst my work, it's probably because one of my studio partners threw them for me

My mom and I started going to the studio without a teacher after a couple years when we became members at the local studio. She's been a huge supporter of my art since I was young, and I really appreciate everything she does for me. My parents have retired since then, and now she's only here for a few weeks a year. now I mostly do my pottery work at home, and go to the studio once a week with a friend.

I'm disabled, and making pottery helps with my mental health. I sell my work to help make ends meet and because I make too much pottery to keep it all. I'm incredibly lucky to be supported by my amazing spouse, and by my parents.

For now I'm doing pottery pretty much all the time. Once in awhile I’ll teach a decorating workshop at the local pottery studio, but otherwise I’m just making!

a sgraffito portrait of me and one of my pigeons

[miss-m-winks]

Love is an Art, part 5

master post, part 4, part 6

Previously: Kouto and Talib met up for their first bonus session. Now it’s time for class again! Just a short chapter.

Talib walked down the path to the pottery studio, glancing up at the cloudy patchwork over the blue sky. Ahead of him, a few other students were also headed to the studio. One was slender and dark-haired, wearing a tight sleek bun and a shirt that looked far too fine for the mess of damp clay.

“Kouto?” They paused and turned, smiling. “Oh, hi Talib! Your eye is green today, I like that.” They waited for him to catch up so they could walk together. “I don’t think I’ll have much to do today, since you’re all just doing a critique, but professor Rutfang said she might want me to pose again to help with the critique.” Talib nodded.

“Yeah. I’m a little nervous,” he admitted. “I kinda miss just doing wheel pottery. Or wood carving, that’s fun. Maybe next quarter I’ll try a wood carving class.” Kouto hummed, opening the pottery studio door ahead of Talib.

“We should try to hang out some time,,” they said. “I’d like to see your other work. I could show you my art too.”

“That would be nice.” Talib set his bag on the shelf, and Kouto waved at him before they slipped into the storage closet to change into their bathrobe once more. Professor Rutfang nodded at the students on their way in.

“Alright, get your sculptures and sit down. You made your first messy figure sculptures last class, you had time to step away and give them a rest, and now we’re going to look at them again.” She stood to the side of the platform in the middle of the tables, arms folded as she waited. Talib pulled out his tools and claimed a spot at the tables, then brought his sculpture off the shelf. Gilik came over soon after, sitting beside him again with a friendly smile.

“Nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm, me too.” Gilik giggles. “But I’m also excited. After today, we’ll get the really big project.” Talib nodded. The first sculpture got everyone used to the idea of making a person out of clay. But the rest of the quarter was supposed to be focused on making one good sculpture as a final project, and lots of smaller quick sculptures in between.

When the students were all settled in, professor Rutfang spoke up again.

“So, as I explained at the start of the quarter, once you had experience with general sculpting techniques, you’d get to work with a model. And now that you’ve all made your first live figure sculpture, we’re going to do a critique, discuss some methods for sculpting faster and more accurately, and introduce the big assignment I expect you to finish by the end of the quarter.” She looked around at the class and nodded. “Peer critique first. Go ahead and work with your table partner to look over your sculptures, talk about them for the next fifteen minutes.” She waved her hand and sat down at the edge of the platform.

“Well, here’s mine.” Gilik removed the waxed bark cloth from her sculpture. The clay looked rather smooth, all pressed into place by her naturally damp amphibian fingers. “I did come in during open studio to fix the seams,” she explained. “I’m actually kind of happy with it. The bent leg might be a little off, and the head is wonky. But I like the rest.” Talib nodded, looking over her work. The head was wonky, entirely asymmetrical. It tilted towards one shoulder.

“I like the wonky look. Adds character.” Talib smiled at Gilik. She snorted.

“Fine, but this is a critique. Assuming I want to get better at making more symmetrical heads, what’s your advice?” Talib hummed, leaning over to see the sculpture from a new angle. “It looks rushed. Which, you know, makes sense. I think you got the body shape down pretty well. The head is tilting prety hard to the right. I think if you spent more time correcting it from every angle, you could fix that.” Gilik nodded, turning the sculpture around. “You’re right, I didn’t do a proper turn around for the head. What do you think of this leg though?”

“It looks like the clay might have sagged there. I made that leg by carving it out instead of building it up.” Talib removed the cloth on his sculpture to show it to Gilik. “I thought mine was a little off too, but if I look at yours next to mine, I think I can see where the clay might have sagged on yours where in my case it’s just that I carved it weird.” Gilik leaned closer to his work.

“Ah, I see what you’re saying. And I can see that you also rushed the head.”

“I think we all did,” Talib remarked, glancing around the room. Most of the sculptures seemed to have tilting heads, pinched or nonexistent faces. “Guess Rutfang’s going to focus on that, huh?”

“Absolutely.” Gilik straightened up. “Can I see the back of your sculpture?” She turned hers around to show that side on hers as well. Talib shifted his piece, revealing the back of it. “Oh, that looks really good,” Gilik said. “I can even see the shoulder blades.” She gestured with a finger, careful not to touch it. Talib nodded.

“I guess I spent more time looking at the model’s back than their front. I think they were facing me more towards the end, and that’s when I tried to switch my focus to their head.” Professor Rutfang interrupted before Gilik could say more, calling the class to attention. “Alright, wrap up and come together.” She waited a moment until everyone was quiet and facing her. “From what I’ve seen and heard, I know most of you had some similar difficulties with this project. When you’re sculpting faster and don’t have time to perfect the whole thing, it’s easy to get focused on one part and then rush other parts.” The class murmured in agreement, sheepish smiles and averted glances proving her point.

“You’ve gotten used to having more time to work on a full piece, which is the usual way of doing things. But I think it’s important to learn some skills that will speed up your process.” She gestured Kouto over as she spoke. “Instead of making your sculpture one part at a time, you should try to focus on multiple areas in shorter bursts. It helps with proportion accuracy, and it can prevent your sculptures from looking amazing in one area and sloppy in another.”

Talib looked down at his piece, all detailed in the torso but with a very unfinished head. He looked back up to see Kouto was taking their position again, leaving the bathrobe aside. Professor Rutfang started into her lecture, using her own lump of clay to demonstrate the techniques she was discussing.

She settled the basic proportions of the sculpture quickly, forming the body in stacked chunks and quickly shaving them down or building them up to size. She corrected the pose and then fixed the seams with slip, smoothing them out. Her rapid sculpture was small, but the speed and accuracy were still impressive. She described each step as she worked, so the whole class could understand what she was doing.

“And from there, you can start adding your detail and correcting the pose as you get new angles to work from. But there’s a lot you can infer about the full figure even if you only look from one angle.” She walked around Kouto’s platform, giving it a gentle push so it turned with her. Kouto looked like they were trying to suppress an amused smile. “For the rest of the quarter, I want you to make small quick sculptures of our model in different poses. One a week, two class sessions per pose. They’ll be imperfect. But they’ll teach you some important skills.” Professor Rutfang stopped walking and the platform came to a slow halt. Standing still with her clay-coated hands against her hips, she silently glanced around the room.

“Now, of course, you can’t always rely on being able to sculpt a live model during every step of your process. You might be using a model to get an accurate pose for a historical or fictional figure. Or perhaps your personal work is more stylized, and working with a model simply won’t help. And in general, you probably won’t have access to a model every time you sculpt.” She nodded towards the sculpture wall, where she kept her own finished works as well as those of some past students and a few master works.

“The famous statue of Goug’ele’s Triumph, made by Tahlrin Pelok after the goblin revolution. It took him months to complete. He started it some years after the World Declaration on Personhood was written. He couldn’t have Goug’ele themself come stand in that exact pose for days on end.” She cracked a smile. “He actually asked a few different goblins to pose for him, and the majority of the work was done without a model reference.” The class took interest, examining the statue’s smaller copy on the shelf. Gilik grinned.

“Some of my ancestors fought alongside Goug’ele,” she whispered to Talib. He nodded in reply, but cast his glance towards Kouto, recalling their interest in the art of the goblin revolution. Professor Rutfang continued speaking.

“So, for your big project that I expect you to complete by the end of the quarter,” she said, drawing their attentions back, “I want each of you to make a unique sculpture of your choice. It must be a sculpture of a person, and it must have a realistic style. You can make sketches and small practice pieces to plan it out. You might take interest in one of the poses from a class session and decide to use it. No matter what you choose to do, you will of course need to work on it during open studio hours, when you will not have a model to work with.” “So it doesn’t have to be anyone specific?” one student asked. Professor Rutfang nodded.

“Any species, any gender. I have many reference sculptures you can look at to get inspiration. I’ve had past students do self portraits, even.” She laughed. “Bold choice, that. It’s entirely up to you.” A few other students asked clarifying questions about the size, whether or not they could glaze it, and if they could add extra details like having the figure sit on a stump, or hold an object. When the questions stopped, professor Rutfang cleared her throat and addressed the class one more time.

“So, I think that covers it all. If you find that you don’t have enough time to make your big project, come talk to me and I’ll let you into the extra closed sessions. They happen in the evenings, the day before each class session. Kouto has generously volunteered their time there. All that aside, with the remaining time you have today, I just want you all to take the sculptures you have now and see how much you can do to fix them up.” She stepped aside, and the room became noisy with the sounds of tools being picked up and set down, water dripping as it was used to dampen clay, and students chatting quietly with their table partners.

Kouto’s platform had come to a stop facing Talib’s table. He lifted his gaze, briefly making eye contact with Kouto while he worked on fixing the clay recreation of their face. They broke their neutral expression to smile at him, reassuring and friendly. He smiled back, and he felt the tension in his mind loosen up, making him just a little less worried about all the work he’d have to finish in the next weeks.

--- As the figure sculpting class wrapped up, Kouto stepped back into the storage closet to get dressed. Packing the bathrobe into their bag and stepping out, they looked around for Talib, only to find he must have left already.

“Oh,” Kouto mumbled, “suppose he had something else to get to.” They shouldered their bag and left the studio amongst the lingering students, still unable to spot Talib anywhere. With a short sigh, they put a smile back on their face and turned off the path to get to their next class.

[k00283773]

Ceramics research

For my week of ceramics I didn’t want to go in without a direction ,so I went to the LSAD library to get out some book on some of my favourite potters .

These two potters are Bernard Leach and George Ohr. Both of these artist have strong legacies on ceramics and bringing new ideas into the field in their locations .

George Ohr ‘ the mad potter of Biloxi’ Mississippi -had a very eccentric style in both pottery and fashion. He wasn’t comfortable in the norms of pottery and built a representation for being a very hands on potter as he dug his own clay ,built his our kiln and altered clay in his way. He was so proficient on the potters wheel that in today’s standards it is nearly impossible for anyone to get clay as thin as he did. A lot of his work can be distinguished from its common use of unusual handles ,one of the most difficult aspects of pottery seem to come so natural to him as every piece he made was different from the last. Many people say that he was a huge part of the abstract expressionism in America and has many of his pieces in the metropolitan museum of art.

On October 12th 1894 a fire broke out destroying George’s family home . This was also his work studio and thousands of his pottery pieces were broken. He was heard referring to the fire as “killing his babies”. I found this interesting as many people would of given up on their dream after an incident like this but instead he built a new bigger house on top of the remains of the old and found a new way of creativity come along even through it took half a century after his death to get the recognition he deserved.

I like his works because of how loose and creative they are. Every piece different from the other and to be doing something this unique 100 years ago and not getting the recognition until after your death is something that too many artists are the victim of. I thought this would be a good artist to look at before going into ceramics because of the creativity that can be achieved with hard work and determination.

[foundinfantasy]

Prepping for NaNoWriMo (of sorts) and the project I'm working on got me thinking more and more about how badly I want a TS4 EP highlighting African cultures.

Hmmm... so, how would I do it/pitch it?

A hobbies wishlist/wildlife conservationist pack in a blended world of a city district, a traditional village, and a savanna neighborhoods [with an oasis hidden lot]!

Looking back at the EP idea #4, it really did start with being about fossils and then towards the end became about conservation. Do I believe this was generated by Ai. Oh a 1000% but I'm gonna hold them to the ideas they promoted. I lend fossils more to museum gameplay and that alone could fill its own pack and I like the "Oceania Shores" world and all that possible gameplay. So let that pack be about fossils and this pack be about wildlife [which should've come with 4R but *shrug*].

New "Harvestables"/animals/flowers:

clay from pits, cotton &/or silkworms, geese, desert rose, violets. Gold, other metals, and diamonds spawn in the world.

Possibles for New Skills:

Pottery - that are giftable, sellable to collectors, on plopsy, etc. Same kind of poor to masterpiece qualities. Ability to make urns. Store/catch water [for Seasons/EcoLife cross-pack]. Used as an offering on a shrine. Set as an heirlooms. Paintable/Decorate. Breaking causes auspicious chances [if sim is clumsy or low skill or caused by ghost].

Weaving/Sewing - imo can go one of three or all of three ways with introducing the loom, sewing machine, &/or tufting gun to create quilts, fabrics, clothes, and/or rugs [dk if this should come with a second career for a seamstress or fashion designer, active or rabbithole, or should be it's own GP]

Glassblowing and/or Beadwork - same with pottery but also for beadwork - clay or glass - crosspack with Crystal Creations to introduce new headpiece/mask/glasses designs.

Oneirology - studying dreams, journaling, sharing dreams with others, starting an oral story and sharing/passing down those, astral projection as a reward for the top of the skill, chance of a prophetic dream, meet an ancestor

Update/Expand to Photography skill - nature, street, studio, modern photography

Update/Add on to woodworking table - masks and totems, stools, etc.

Update/Add on to herbalism

Sketching/architecture skill to bring back the drafting table and add regular sketchbooks

Possible new Instruments:

solo drum [no way there's still no bands/drums pack by this hypothetical point that expands on music production], xylophone, shakers, wooden flute, harp, lute, trumpets. Adds options to the music station to record/produce/mix with/from, collab with someone, and add a new design for that station

If the bands pack doesn't already, add ability to write music and lyrics from the beginning, it can be poor to masterpiece, and it can be edited. Also if the bands pack, doesn't add rap & opera, I will riot ... so in the least add rap to this pack! [and kind of makes me want a Theatre/Musical GP]

Wildlife Conservation:

new lot type, 100 x 100 plot in this new world.

Active Career or Ownable Lot - needing the charisma skill, writing skill, and/or maybe handiness skill? vet skill cross-pack?

at least 4 interactive reserves (lions, elephants, giraffes, and flamingos) - could work just like CL with their "barns" or could spawn if you place a marker in river for the flamingos, a certain tree for giraffes and elephants, a rock cave for lions [very much taking from DDLV]. I'd add cheetahs and zebras if they'd give us 6.

Could add a cowplant exhibit and/or introduce a new "endangered" animal that we rescue?

Placeable rabbithole shells with at least 8 swatches for different types of exhibits. AND/OR a marker to set in front of builds to note what it is and give a presentation?

Has guests, staff, offers tours, offer scholarships and ability to apply for grant from our National Leader.

Conversations: talk about eco-tourism, fundraise, film education videos, ask questions, maybe even trait specific interactions for clumsy, high maintenance, erratic, etc.

Give me BB/architecture: strollers, new version of stylist chair that looks like a salon chair, spiral-stairs. More thatched roofs, more round wall windows, clay/mud wall textures, adobe style pieces, high rise buildings, tribal masks and statues, handwoven rugs, carved wooden chairs, stools, clay pots, and woven baskets.

African food (a given) BUT gameplay - if you cook together with an elder [maybe at a certain level] there's a possible "learned family recipe" buff/trait and/or recipe that appears in inventory to set an heirloom/pass down. If sim already has a cookbook or writes one, they can either add recipe and betray family secret or keep it in the family. And if you've unlocked this buff/trait, you can ask other sims about their family recipes or be asked, some might spill and you can choose not to.

CAS: cowrie shells, kente, ankara, kaftans, locs, braids, bantu knots, cornrows, headpieces, makeup, cross pack add headpieces, dresses, and dashikis for MWS,

New dances, music station, and shrine.

Events and Extras: A coming of age event [if they wanted to add something big - preteens], market/harvest [where the community trades and celebrates together], cross-pack add traditions to MSW, a chance to add zodiac signs and the world at night in the savanna could have beautiful skies

Traits: Communal Spirit, Tradition Keeper, Wildlife Enthusiast, Rhythmic, Captivating, Barterer

[steamishot]

pottery week 1/6

i attended my first wheel throwing class this past sunday, and it kicked my butt. i went in there without doing any prior research, video watching, and had 0 experience in wheel throwing. i was more nervous about being in a classroom setting in person again after what felt like forever. there are 5 people in the class and one sensei. there's one white guy (outside of our sensei), and 4 asian girls including me LOL.

i should note that i attended a drop in modern dance class on presidents' day with T & S which was pretty out of my comfort zone, but easier because i went with friends. another side note: both T & S went back to their respective countries last week. T just got her citizenship recently, but had to delay her trip to vietnam due to passport issues. S's grandma passed away in taiwan so the trip was under sad circumstances.

similar to dance class, wheel throwing involves a lot of steps. however, dissimilar to modern class, we were unable to practice each step piece by piece. there were about 12 steps to making a cup and the instructor went through them very quickly. he offered hands on assistance to each individual, but by the time we reached the last step, i had already forgotten steps 2-3 lol. some of the other people had experience in pottery already, and i was the least knowledgable one. i had social anxiety when people asked questions my way and i was like idk...

during our first class, we went over kikuneri, a japanese kneading technique and how to throw off the hump, meaning we can make multiple pieces from a single large hump of clay in one sitting. we used a thread to cut our pieces off from the hump. i remember feeling really embarrassed during the independent work time, because i had forgotten the steps and i was unable to make a cup like the others were. i meekly walked up to the instructor and asked if he could demonstrate the steps to me again. the instructor sensed i was stressed and reminded me to have fun. he kindly sent me the notes after class.

although i was really looking forward to ceramics class, i'm now a bit intimidated and felt defeated after my first try. i realized i had grown so accustomed to learning from a screen that i totally blank/feel anxious when i have a live person teaching me. i realized it's actually really helpful to be able to watch recorded videos because you can pause and rewatch as many times as you'd like. the good thing is that with our class membership, we're free to go to the studio anytime to practice. i plan on going there maybe 1-2 additional times per week outside of scheduled class.

furthermore, i was a little too shy to talk to the people in my class. but hopefully i'll come out of my shell a bit more. from the looks of it, i'm the second oldest as the other people look like they're in their 20s. immediately after i came home, i started binge watching youtube videos (florian gadsby, woah) on wheel throwing and put a few books on hold so i can get up to speed. i also purchased an apron to wear in class. wish me luck on the weeks to come lol.

other life updates:

no success on any job searching yet. matt recently interviewed with recruiters out in bakersfield and oceanside. everything about the job seems to be great in bakersfield, besides the location. the oceanside work conditions were meh. we're both willing to live in bakersfield temporarily if he gets a job offer. additionally, there are per diem openings with harbor which matt can interview for. COH had explicitly told matt he didn't make it to the finalists, but that his info will be kept on file. we got ghosted by UCLA and UCI. and USC/la general seems to be stringing us along. hope that they have an answer soon, even if it's a no.

R&T have been our consistent friends. they hangout very casually/LA style where it's slow paced and elongated (as opposed to the NYer friends who are more fast paced and busy). they really treat our place like theirs lol. however, they may be leaving even sooner than september due to the dallas job. it's up in the air currently.

matt had his bottom two wisdom teeth taken out and spent about a week recovering/eating soft foods. he has had infections happening on and off for years and finally got it addressed :( the good thing about this is that finally it's been addressed and he's closer to a healthier weight with a restricted diet

i did early spring cleaning and threw out a lot of shit. we purchased an additional plastic drawer and omg i can access all my clothes more easily now.

my dad, SIL and niece will be going to cambodia late march

we watched american fiction in theaters with R&T. initially felt the film was a little slow and disappointed issa rae had such little screen time, but thought the movie overall was great

i sent my texan aunt a nice little "made in brooklyn" goodies box - with the chocolate room snacks and a candle set from apotheke.

the new MUJI duvet cover and insert have really grown on me and are getting more comfortable by the day

went in for an eye exam at a local place and enjoyed "being part of the city". i ordered sunglasses from warby parker as my vision insurance partially covers frames this year.

[cozycryptidcorner]

the mugs on the left side of your post are some of the prettiest mugs i've ever seen omg you're literally so talented & they're actually pretty cheap for handmade mugs!!

Thank you.

Apparently some people need to understand the cost breakdown.

Porcelain: can vary in price but usually around $80 for 50 pounds. Each mug is roughly 1.5-2 pounds of clay.

Glaze: really depends on what you’re working with but the ones I used are $15 per pint.

School tuition/access to a studio: roughly 6-8K a semester depending on what I’m doing.

Skill: I’ve been doing this on and off since middle school. What does skilled labor cost? A lot.

Tools: good pottery tools are expensive. Look up the prices at Diamondcore.

And idk but all the people who buy my mugs at the craft fairs I go to think they’re neat so like. Art is very subjective but being rude? Really? How about they go find a hobby they can pour all their energy into and maybe learn to love something instead of acting like a fool on the internet.