Author’s note: This 2017-2020 collection of small cozy (Gemütlich is a German word for just that) drabbles and arts about none other but Herr Drosselmeyer himself and his beloved Frau Martha. Martha is in no way my own OC. She’s from a steampunk adaptation of Hoffmann’s tale, created by a Russian theater (“S.A.D. Theater”, to be precise), but blends into the story so well that I no longer can imagine the old Godpapa unmarried. :) The actors who play Drosselmeyer and Martha do not mind about her being used in fanfics at all, and even liked my stuff - EVEN this cycle’s Russian version.

Moment 1. Uhrmacher Knurrmacher

Sep 10th, 2016 (illustration drawn in 2017)

It's their fourth Christmas together; for the fourth time, they are invited to the Stahlbaums, and here they are, Carl Stahlbaum himself greeting them in his mansion. Once more, a "Drossel, old boy!" and a hearty pat on the back – for her husband; and a "Martl, dear", followed by a small peck on her hand, – for her.
Once more, a Christmas feast – the one Mr. Stahlbaum had always been known around the town for – accompanied by a long talk, a few gentle "just one more bit, for me, Christian…" Martha manages to slip in as it lasts, and just as many slight nods and radiant smiles from Christian, meaning if this makes you happy.

Moment 2. Almondous Pair

July 6th, 2017

It was hard to believe. Had Drosselmeyer been a regular human, it would seem absolutely foreign and strange to him. But with his current, magic-enhanced, semi-toy body, it seemed only natural that it had just fit in about a couple jugs of almond milk, and that Martha, admiring him with utmost delight and love, strokes soothing circles on his middle – which, by now, was nearly resting on his lap, almost like his cousin's, the velvet waistcoat stretched over it.

She'd been admiring him like that since the moment he knelt by the Lake of Almond Milk and tasted the first handful of it. She handed him a wafer lily flower that would serve as a cup and would be more comfortable to drink from. She didn't say a word after the flower melted in his mouth after all the milk, – only planted a kiss just under his sternum, at the very beginning of the soft, velvet-clad curve.

Moment 3. Pearl / Alchemy

"...you are becoming more beautiful than the world,
and I become a dragon."
– Ivan Davydov, "The Other Tales" / "He tells Her"

May 28th, 2020

It was even better that both the Lake of Almond Milk and they themselves were mercifully hidden by the fog.

For some reason, Martha's own fingers felt cold – just enough for her to touch her husband's hands, long used to cold, and his face, but not under his shirt; how could she even think of touching the living warmth with hands that cold. Touching that fire magic, separated from the outside world by only a thin layer of flesh. How could she disturb it – not having warmed them with her breath first.

A colorful page of the book of Chinese legends floated up in Martha’s memory — she read it when she was ten years old, and this particular legend was especially memorable to her: a scarlet and gold dragon guarding a large pearl. Of the same pinkish color.

Moment 4. Through the living mirror

October 29th, 2020

* No illustration for this one yet.
Martha's love for her husband goes deep. So deep that not even he can resist.
Drosselmeyer's heart sounds like this.

“So many times I've already seen you... from the outside,” Martha whispers. “Maybe if I in fact were made of marzipan and if you ate me, I’d so be living inside you."

Drosselmeyer's face feels unbearably hot – as if it wasn’t him who had just shrunk his wife to the size of a marzipan figurine. At her own request, temporarily, for sheer fun of them both – just so he would hold her close to his heart as he was resting by the window. He didn't even expect her to wish for something like... this. After all, a figurine made of almond paste is one thing, but Martha – half a doll herself, yet living, with a body of soft silk cloth, skin like light wax, and a love for him much bigger than she is – is a different one.

“Martchen, I…”
(how will you breathe – won’t you melt?! – the fiery magic – I don't even know what I’m like in there – aren't you afraid?! – what if my heart deafens you – what if-)

“...I don't know how you'll like it. I...” He stumbles. “...I'm not a mechanism. I don't know... how do I even work now. I don't want to... hurt you”.

"Don't be afraid,” Martha winks. “Just remember…”

She lightly, even more gently than being her usual size, touches him right under the arch of his ribs – watching as her beloved husband begins to glow in response. Magic; a warm wave through his body, and the wave of anxiety ebbing away. Back then, in the place where he was given this magic to drink after his transformation, Drosselmeyer realized – the liquid fire caused no harm to its host. It could turn food into life, to help life flow through him – but never dissolve a living creature.

“Here I go, Willow,” Martha finally calls him. “I am ready. Wait a moment – lift me up…”