Chilicia Blogs?

I'm just a sack of potatoes making a living

But one thing I love more than anything

Is the passion for writing

But there's something been bugging my mind

I can't write well

If given a flower, I can't make a bouquet

If given vines, I can't make beautiful wreath

If given bamboo, I can't make woven basket

If you give me an orb, I can only color it blue

I can't give the sky or the sea

Or the morning glory and the hydrangea

Nor the Aurora and the shooting star

I can't make things beautiful like poets do

My mind is straight

Parallel with logic

Yet it tries to bend and twists

Staking every little bit of creativity it can

I can't write well

But I want to try regardless

Because I love writing

Until time comes for me

(couldn't think of anything other than 'unspoken truths' or 'unspoken feeling' so vent art it is lol

i've been troubled by this line of thoughts for as long as I live bcos i've seen a lot of ppl more creative than I do and it's eating me inside. it's kinda an evident that i'll never be any good at writing. but i keep going anyway bcos it's the only thing i know and partly good at. so hopefully all of us who feels this way will find comfort and solace in our passion.

Cotton, wool, satin, each of these fabrics give specific comfort for the wearer. Cotton is environmental friendly, wool can be itchy but warm, satin is glassy and smooth. These cloths then can be woven to be worn. As suits or shirts, any of the picking.

The head of the Kamisato Clan, the Yashiro Commissioner of today, Ayato, has purchased an order of kimono made of silk. One piece, sewn in floral decoration of purple and blue. Made of silk, with fine texture and delicate touch to the skin. Its size is smaller than that of the commissioner, since it was specifically made in the image of his lover.

Just as he thought of him, he appears right by the window of his office. Fluttering wind almost scattered the papers if it was not for the weight. The cold air of the night brush against his face awakening him of drowsy eyes. His heart begins pumping elation through his blood. Although all the excitement would be uncontainable, his face kept flashing a soft smile. A professional stride from an outsider's view, but his partner would've known better, evidently by his giggly snickers.

"Calm down, Mr Commissioner." Wanderer laughed heartily, "I won't go anywhere for 3 days. I'm all yours."

"It's your fault for being away for so long." Ayato cleaned up his desk, "You said in your letters you would be arriving weeks prior."

"I'm a busy man. A lot of people want me." Wanderer smirked, and it went wider once he saw the jealousy seeping out of Ayato's intense glare. "What's wrong, Mr. Commissioner? Jealous?"

"Hardly." Ayato tried to keep his emotions in check, "I was wondering if this kimono is the right size for you."

"A present for me? You shouldn't have." There's a tone of mockery in the utterance, but his curved eyes can't hide the excitement of receiving a gift. "Made of silk? Fancy."

Without wasting a minute, Wanderer began stripping his outer layer, revealing the sleeveless bodysuit underneath. Seeing the black cloth wrapped his body in full intricately shaped his silhouette in details, it thirsts Ayato to a draught. It's as if observing the other being naked before him. The commissioner averted his gaze. He would pounce if he lost his composure now.

Wanderer slings his arms into the silk kimono. The size is just right, not too long not too short. Its comfort is irresistible, it defeats the current one he always wears. The pattern however is not in his favor. Flowers out of everything? He's anything but such a delicate existence. The contrast seems like an insult, but he knows better this flower is of the Kamisato's house emblem. And paired with the purple waves seemingly blowing the flower in gentle grasp, it's a symbolism Wanderer finds endearing.

"You could have picked a different pattern." Wanderer turned his head towards Ayato, "But this will do. I'll use it as pajamas." He walked towards the door and stopped for a while, leaning against the door frame suggestively. He eyes the commissioner in a seductive stare. Slowly, he pulls down one side of his collar to reveal an exposed shoulder. "If you like, I wouldn't mind you joining me. It'd be nice to give you a...'personal lecture'."

With the sentence ending, Wanderer excuses himself into the hallway advancing to the guest room assigned to him on repeat. Hearing such a bold statement surprised Ayato a bit. It looks like he isn't the only one being impatient. The commissioner rises from his seat and exits his office. That would be the end for tonight's paperwork shift. Time to enjoy the night.

(i just saw the cwmcc reblog about their prompt and i must say... i feel attacked lol no offense just found it funny af asdfghjsk

There was a crooked man

And he walked a crooked mile

He found a crooked sixpence

Upon a crooked stile

He bought a crooked cat

Which caught a crooked mouse

And they all live together

In a crooked little house.

One crooked day

There was a crooked man

Walking down a crooked path

And kicked a crooked can

A child of crooked smile

Laughed at his crooked tie

Anger by the crooked child

Their crooked lips were sewn tight

There was a crooked child

And he walked a crooked mile

He got back to his crooked house

And is never seen again.

"I think that's enough storytelling, dear captain."

A knock on Lohen's head prompted him to halt the stories, coming to an abrupt closure. With the children shaken in fright from the tales, they scattered back home when Sister Hannelore had intervened in their storytelling session.

Lohen clicked his tongue, "You said those children were being naughty. So I told them 'moral' stories as a lesson."

"What lesson is there other than scaring them?!" Hannelore berated, "They're just going to wet their beds!"

"Ah. Another reason I should continue my stories." Lohen replied nonchalantly.

"That's enough from you!" Hannelore tried to contain her anger, "I'll handle this."

Lohen shrugged. He's done his best to 'advise' those kids. Scary stories aren't only there to bring fright, they're a reminder that human has a survival instinct called fear. And fear will make them alert and aware of their surrounding as to not fall into a scumbag's trap. It doesn't seems like Sister Hannelore understand this so he let it be.

And with the present ticking its hand before his eyes, the Wild Hunts emerge from the rift marching a grim expression. Some contorted in limbs, a position impossible to operate under normal circumstances. Half of them have their bodies bend in unnatural ways, inhuman to mimic. One of them caught his eyes. A crooked Wild Hunts walking a crooked strud. He becomes excited by its appearance.

He whistled, "There's our crooked man. Time for a hunt!"

(I was reminded of this horror game the moment i saw crooked and yeah... lol

Hissing. Sonic grouches a soft whine as he emerges among the rubble. He had just fallen into an old ruin and is now suffering from the pain of the aftermath.

Prior, he was playing a game of catch with Metal Sonic. In an attempt to steal the victory crown, his metallic copy has decided to plunge the other into the ground, making the ancient flooring give away by the force. Of course Sonic is equally stubborn to give up and amidst the fall, he lands a hit on the vicious robots any chance he got. Some lands, some don't, though he remembers seeing that cheap copy collided with the falling debris causing him to be broken in pieces. At least he can be reassured that he's not in one piece and the fight is over with a determined winner.

Covered in bruises and scratches, some bleeds a river while some a formed bump that decolorized his skin, the hedgehog limps from wall to wall. Breath reached a height of desperation in capturing air into the lung. Making the blood rush to provide oxygen to every part of his muscles, it faintly keep him up on his feet. In addition to enduring the ache poking his nerves, he has to adjust his strength from the exhaustion of his previous brawl.

He can't fall here. Sonic has much more in life than dying in some lost, old heritage. For that, he needs to get out of this place lest he wants to deal with any more of Metal's beating. That guy needs to find a new hobby, especially something that's less painful.

His advance is stopped when he hears a familiar whir. Buzzes of electrical wiring are resounding in the wreckage. There, lay the head of Metal among the rocks. Sonic approached him. No lights blaring from the screen. His face is absent of an intimidating red shine. Metal is out of power. Thank Goodness, Sonic wouldn't want to continue fighting. Not when he's this close in becoming a disabled Mobian.

Surely he has sent a signal to Egghead for a rescue. Surely he will be picked up by one of Egghead's goons sooner or later. Surely Metal will get out of here. And surely, he can hitch a ride to escape too. Therefore Sonic waits. He lands himself next to Metal with a hiss. The pain really stings. He complains and whines as he sits right beside Metal's severed head, both facing the ceiling in parallel.

Silence. With only his voice echoes within the ruin and never a reply of a raging machine codes to retaliate, Sonic goes quiet. The stillness he entered felt somewhat tranquil. There's the faintness of an electrical hum. A seldom drop of water that plops with a rhythmically pop. The rays slipping in-between the cracks exudes warmth despite the cold air stalling in the atmosphere.

He can feel himself slipping away into sleep. His eyelids can barely be open. He gives in instantly once he hears the doctor's voice approaching from a distance. So his hunch was right. They did come for Metal. Sonic smirks. He will be in good hands now.

A well wrapped letter patched onto the Grandmaster's door. Neat, wellkept, tidy. Rolled up without a crease in sight as if ironed before it's sent, even decorated with a blue ribbon to sprinkle a bit of beauty onto the plain whites. He's impressed by the meticuous detail being flattened into a pristine presentation. Why was he impressed? Because seeing the name 'Lohen' attached to it what's make him disbelief.

Even to go so far as to write in loopy, wavy calligraphy rather than the rough, edged handwriting, something is defintiely not right. First thing he thought of is an impostor trying to lure him somewhere. With a red thread trailing along the hallways and all over the places, it's luring Varka to follow the mystery and uncover them. But once he's reached the end and caught off guard perhaps that'll be where they strike. Could be just another trick from the rascal, bribing Kaeya with some high class wine to forge some fancy lines with a trap waiting for him to fall in. However way it'll go, he can go through them with ease.

Each steps he take lead him to the things tied within the red lines. He walks and walks with a heart anticipating a surprise ambush, sneaking an attack from his blindspot. But nothing as threatening came. Only a heartwarming gesture is arranged along the way.

First it was Jean. He tried to run at first, thinking another mountainous papers are going to lock him behind the doors overnight again. Though she simply greets him as she offers to handle the work this time. Then she meets Lisa who offers him a nice cup of tea, saying how it's been requested by a certain 'kindhearted' gentleman to give. Varka almost spit out the good beverage out of hilarity, but he's courteous enough to not waste it and gulps it down. Although, it did give him a round bout of coughs that echoes in the headquarters.

Klee is also along the thread, saying something about a surprise waiting at the end for him. Giggly laughs was attempted to be held back inside her cheeks, but the sound eventually make their escape among the tiniest gaps. Varka tries to pry it from her what it was. He failed, and now he's haunted by the possibility of Klee's bomb being involved in this. His unsettlted nerves calm down once he met with Noelle, who has fixed him a nice blanket for the next time he goes on an expedition. Even Razor is here to give him something, and it's a homemade hashbrown that he puts a lot of effort in to learn. With shaped paws and savory sauce to complete the meal, he enjoys them together with the young one.

So far nothing has been troubling. It's actually pretty nice. Just hanging around familiar company, indulging in the warmth of a peaceful hour. It's somehow make him even more suspicious. Because under this tranquil silence, an unpredictable chaos is sure to brew underneath. Especially if it involves their 5th Company Vice Captain.

He finally reaches the end of the thread and its tied to the rooftop door. The Grandmaster takes a few breath to relief himself of any anxiety. Once a few sighs have let loose into the air does he twists the doorknob open. What he sees make his jaw almost dropped. His eyes expand, surprise as it perceiving the scene in full.

There awaited Lohen with his back presented at first. The moment he noticed Varka's presence, he turned around with a bouquet in hand. He looks exceptionally…beautiful. The wind blows his hair just at the right speed, allowing it to flow so softly and gentle in its drift. The sun hits his eyes at the right angle, giving it a shine that was never there. His smile seems so mellow, almost like the dandelion has soften it. He was mesmerized by the sight that he froze the moment his eyes met his. Varka felt his heart is pumped full. He felt like it could burst. He was undefyingly capivating.

Varka lets out a smile, huffing an embarrassed sigh as his cheeks slightly turned pink. He approached Lohen slowly, "You know, I didn't expect you to be a roman-TIC?!"

His leg was snatched by a rope, tighten around his ankle and pulled upward hanging him upside down. It was so quick his head is swirling from the swift motion. Frustration soon engulfs him. So it was a prank after all. Seeing Lohen bursts into laughter, he can feel his heart sombers an unexplainable sadness. Does he actually want Lohen to be romantic? He knows it's not in the guy's code to be so tender. This mischief is much more expected out of him. Still, it won't be that bad to get some gentleness once in a blue moon.

Though it seems Lohen isn't in any short of surprise. Despite Varka's demand to be put down, it was ignored. Any instruction or orders from him is disregard like it didn't just come from their most influential figure in the Knights. Lohen closing their distance with leisure strut. His face looks blank. Varka can't read him at all. The tension is crushing him. What is he going to do now?

In under a minute, he feels his lips soften by another's. He feels a shared warmth in the contact. It's like time has stopped for how long it felt. A tremor shaken his heart awake of the same fullness he felt before, but this time it has exploded. Varka's entire body fuzz into a melting warm. He was surprised for sure, but he's too delighted by this turn of event to care about other emotions.

Lohen doesn't say anything. Just a smile once it's over and he walks away. But Varka can't forget what he saw. How red his ears were. How much he tried to hold the blushes in. How his eyes pulling him like the black hole of the Abyss. Recognizing what it was, he quickly free himself from the contraption at the cost of his head having a bump. He needs to catch up to Lohen before he escape. He will get that answer no matter what!

The wind is ghastly yet again today. Durin's flight lesson ends up becoming a testament instead of a learning progress. He struggles to balance in the air using his glider. Letting the wind takes him, the poor dragon ends up landing away from the land he called home. He's now in someone's garden in Liyue, and that someone is staring at him with curious look. His heart trembles a great scare. He's definitely going to get scolded.

"Are you alright?" The man in brown admonished. It jolted Durin to hear such low tonality in voice. It's frightening, but soothing at the same time. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I'm fine! Don't worry!" Durin fidgets as he tries to find the next words to utter. An apology is surely to say after this blunder right? It's common manner after accidentally barging into someone's garden. Yes, that's what he remembers in Albedo's lesson. And so he bowed with a sincere remorse, "I'm sorry!"

"It's quite alright." The man waves his hands to get the boy's attention, "Would you like to join me for tea? It's very savory, if I must say."

Now, Durin knows it's not adequate to accept such offer after making a mistake in human's mannerism. They're supposed to decline as a polite conduct in behavior. But seeing the tasty snacks laid out so neatly and appetizing on the table, added that his exhaustion from the training trapping his mind in hunger, he lost to the temptation of that offer. Durin accepts it with a nod and join the man in his seat.

As he munches and swallows, sipping and gulping down, his ears are bathed by stories from the other. From adventurous fairy tales to extraordinary legends, moving onward to real time events then histories that long came to pass, his voice never stop illustrating the pictures of anticipating narration for Durin to hear. He's lost in the plot, captivated by the numbers of anecdotes the older man tells him.

Being such a knowledgeable man means he's very smart, and someone smart is kind and reliable like Albedo and Hat Guy. That means this person is the same, right?

The next day, there's no training. No gliding lesson, no adventuring session, no fighting class. A free day to do whatever he wants. Durin already has a plan though. And at the present, he's sneaking around in the same garden he comes to last time. That same figure is there as usual. Sipping from the tea cups in an elegant manner. Remain calm amidst the wind. He can't help but astonished by such refined etiquette.

"Now," the sudden voice breaking the silence shocked Durin that his wings almost popped out. His tails has already rised, alarmed. "I don't appreciate naughty children who snoops around."

Being caught on his action, Durin comes out of the bushes he's hiding from. He puts on a guilty face, apologetically bow of his misconduct. "I-I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to-"

"However," he interrupted Durin's nervous apology. A smile etched, seemingly trying to calm the nerves in Durin. He pours the tea in another glass before offering to the boy, "If you come in the front door, I wouldn't mind pouring you a cup of tea."

And with that, Durin's heart is relieved of anxiety. It's free to hug the tranquility that comes from this resolution. He takes a seat and once again, indulged in the stories the man has to offer.

(crimson=Durin, golden=Zhongli. Real clever of me huh? asdfghjsk

Being in a foreign land changes Illuga's perspective in some angle. From the constant awareness to danger that lurk every corner to the calmness relief of never a threat in sight, it's a huge gap to get used to. His nerves that has been trained to be vigilant every second is now forced to relax with every breath he takes. The scenery that was dimly lit by a sliver of light now shines so bright with no obstruction to negate the sun's illumination in whole.

He sees the gentle swaying of the trees from the window. The tranquility in the waves offer him a day of peace without any struggle to survive. Its surface lack any tension he seldom sees back in Nod Krai, almost entirely free of signs from monster that could emerge from the depth. He's coerced to live, to feel, to dive in this moment of calm. It's somewhat overwhelming, yet it's a luxury he takes upon himself regardless. It's what humans like him bask in. Freedom.

A pair of arms hugged him from behind. Lohen takes a whiff of his hair, taking in the minty smell of the soap they shared. He rested his chin on his shoulder, "What's the matter, birdie? Misses home already?"

It would be a lie to say he doesn't. He does miss home. The Piramida is all he ever known and he wouldn't have it any other way. His father, comrades, friends, everyone is there. But Lohen isn't. And here he can have him all to himself. Not like he can escape Lohen's grasp anyway. He's been clinging onto him ever since he docked in Dornman Port.

The scary Vice Captain is more adorable than he thought, "I just like the view. It's somehow a waste to not enjoy them."

"Then let's go!" Lohen pulled on Illuga's arm, making him shifted from position. "We're wasting time here! I'll show you what Mondstadt is made of!"

Strong pull, but it wasn't rejected. A forceful offering, but it wasn't turned down. He accepted them all the same, just like how he allowed himself to be here. A smile carved across Illuga's face as he sees his lover's face lighten up almost as bright as the sun. Like the grass always being shine down upon by such warmth, he's sharing that tenderness without hesitation. Laughter erupt from his lips. Perhaps coming here isn't that bad of a decision after all.