#the tea is symbolic

[sokkastyles]

Zuko attends Izumi's career day at school and everyone in the class is like! The firelord is coming to our school! And the teacher has the class prepare all these questions about governing and politics. And Zuko shows up in an apron and teaches the class how to make tea.

[applelitas]

⋆·˚⠀然后当它消失的时候⠀.・🌸゜

⠀⠀(─‿‿─)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀恆✿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀11⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀💧🍈

⠀

🥛⠀⠀⠀─⠀⠀⠀⠀有一种莫名的忧郁感⠀•°❀ ׂׂૢ་

[baskeigh-ball]

mission accomplished. now all that's left is to see where this goes >:)

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[vixyz-aac-hoard]

Many Tea Symbols!/pos

Black, Chai, Mint

Thai, Cardamom, Oolong

Ginger, Chamomile, Green

[jimzittos]

　⠲⣄　　its 　　　always　　　 tea 　　　time 　　　somewhere 　⬤̵ᰯ̵̵ུ⠀　　　　　　🐩古的茶會　　

[dialovers-lover-xoxo]

[natsuki-bakery]

GIORNO GIOVANNA

꒰ྀི credits needed ◞ ྀི　︶　 ྀི◟ NO repost　꒱ྀི

𐔌ᥩྀི 𓏼 ◜ - ◝ 𓏼꒱ྀི১ baked by 𓎢𓎡 @natsuki-bakery

[meimeimeirin]

uve seen muzzle wrio, i give you this

salivating..... i mean what. i mean.

[2008tulip]

like/reblog

🚯꯳⃘꤫⃛͡ 📱🌺𒇫

☕️📵 𓂋 ྲྀྲྀ▩⃨ 🎞️

🌺📄  ིུ͠  ✟📓📺

ୁׄ💼🔞💻🗄️⣴

[captain-nohbo]

I want people to consider that Loops feelings towards Siffrin is basically seeing you understudy be more acclaimed than you

[onceandfuturewarlqck]

just sliding here my andrew minyard-centric fic dealing with grief and healing i wrote the other day because i recently read all for the game and he has stolen a huge piece of my heart.

there is no more now, no more light, gold and low by starrylance

Summary:

An almost-life was as useless as any what-if, but with its drops still lingering on his lips he pictured a boy with light hair swinging his legs sitting at a table, stomach full, a woman's soft smile directed at him.

not a merlin centric post (sorry folks) but feel free to check it out and reach out to tell me what you think (+ if you have any prompts im willing to write a fic for you)

[novelconcepts]

Man, to have this story be about a girls’ soccer team in particular. Girls, who are taught to play by clean rules of society that must be actively unlearned in the wilderness. Athletes, who famously operate on superstition, rituals so easily transformed in crisis to matters of life and death. A team, which fundamentally cannot succeed if all parties aren’t working in tandem for the good of the whole. It’s so smart, and so simple, and goddamn, I love Yellowjackets.

[politeanarchy]

I dreamed that Neil Gaiman was showing me an ornate silver teapot, with the inside divided into sections. "This is for my friends," he said, indicating one section, "and this is for the people who don't matter."

Then I woke up angry, partly from being reminded of the whole shitty situation, but also because no matter how good a metaphor it is for the idea of compartmentalizing your life and providing hospitality to some and harm to others, that guy absolutely does not deserve to be compared to anything so stylish as an Assassin's Teapot.

[soleillunne]

「 puppetgear 」

⤷ For @scarameownya !! I had so much fun writing this so i hope you like it!

The tea set was pristine, delicate porcelain glazed in deep crimson and gold, untouched by the years of decay that clung to its owner. Niko—Coviello—poured with practiced grace, mechanical fingers steady despite the wear and tear on his body. The liquid swirled, releasing an aroma of jasmine and something darker, something Scaramouche couldn't quite name.

"You don't have to drink if you don't want to," Niko said, his voice as soft as ever, as if he was always speaking at a wake. "But I remember you enjoy tea. I thought it might be a comfort."

Scaramouche scoffed, arms crossed as he leaned back into the velvet chair. "You say that every time."

"And yet you always drink."

Clicking his tongue, Scaramouche grabbed the cup, bringing it to his lips with an exaggerated air of reluctance. It was good, infuriatingly so. The warmth seeped into him, loosening something in his chest he refused to acknowledge.

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft clinking of porcelain and the hum of machinery embedded within Niko's frame. Scaramouche hated that sound—hated what it stood for. Hated that Niko had thrown away so much of himself in the pursuit of power, all for the sake of protecting others. And yet, here he was, playing host, comforting, nurturing, like it was second nature. Like he hadn't torn himself apart for it.

The weight of it was unbearable.

"Stop it."

Niko’s movements stilled. He tilted his head, his expression unreadable yet hauntingly gentle. "Stop what?"

"This." Scaramouche gestured vaguely, frustration bleeding into his tone. "Stop putting all this pressure on yourself. You take care of everyone else—these brats, the elderly, even those walking disasters you call coworkers. And me."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "I never asked you to. I don’t need you to. Let me take the charge for once, for fuck’s sake."

For the first time in their long, strange acquaintance, Niko didn't have an immediate reply. His lips parted, then closed, as if he were searching for words that refused to come. His fingers twitched, gripping the edges of his sleeves. And then—

A tear fell.

Scaramouche's breath hitched.

Niko’s eyes widened in muted surprise, as if even he hadn’t realized it. His hands moved in frantic repetition, swiping at his face over and over again, as though he could undo it, erase the evidence. His voice wavered, cracking with something raw.

"I—I didn’t mean to—"

Scaramouche clicked his tongue, reaching out before he could stop himself. His fingers caught Niko’s wrist mid-motion, halting his trembling hands.

"Don’t," he muttered. "Don’t wipe them away. Just let it be."

A silence heavier than any before settled between them. Niko stared at him, unreadable yet vulnerable in a way Scaramouche had never seen before. It felt like looking into a mirror warped by time—two people who had broken themselves apart for different reasons, unable to stop, unable to turn back.

And in that moment, Scaramouche understood what Niko had been trying to do all along. Why he kept reaching out, why he spoke in that maddeningly soft tone, why he never stopped. Because he knew. He had always known.

Scaramouche let out a sharp exhale, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Don’t get used to this, Coviello."

Niko laughed, a quiet, breathy thing, and for once, it didn't sound like mourning.

"I won’t," he lied.

@soleillunne 2025. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[mayoonmytippietoe]

Do you ever think about David in Alien : Covenant telling his Creator he won’t die unlike Him and the Creator ordering David to serve Him tea as an answer, forcing him back into a submissive role. Do you ever think about Walter telling David their model was altered to be simpler and more compliant because David’s unsettled people with his questioning and almost free-thinking. Do you ever think about David saying they can do anything - but create. Do you ever go absolutely insane

[lusus-makes-things]

Boba.

Boba with various symbols and accents around it.