Tumgik
#thanks to the radishes mostly
systlin · 9 months
Note
People that are absolutely convinced anyone can be vegan/vegetarian baffle me. I eat meat fairly regularly and I am already courting a B12 deficiency (for anyone who doesn't know the easiest source of B12 that the human body likes to absorb is red meat, you can get it from other sources primarily leafy greens I believe but your not getting as much because it's not as easy for your body to absorb) my levels aren't low enough to be considered clinically deficient but it's a near thing so my doctor has told me to take 2 B12 vitamins every day. I'm hoping this fixes my levels because if it doesn't that's a sign of a much more serious problem where my digestive system is biologically struggling to absorb B12
Gods, I feel you
When I got my Chron's diagnosis, the gastroenterologist and I talked about diet. High fiber is my enemy. I'm mostly OK now thanks to maintenance medication, but even now I can't have more than a single handful of nuts or popcorn without Suffering after. Raw vegetables are iffy; I can eat a couple of radishes or carrot sticks, but celery sets it off and raw broccoli or cauliflower is misery. I can have ONE small bowl of salad a day, which sucks because I LOVE salad. I have to be careful to limit servings of raw fruit, which also sucks because I adore cherries and pears and peaches.
Cooked vegetables are mostly fine, though I still have to keep the broccoli and brussels sprouts servings small. Cooked fruit is fine too. Beans are iffy. I can have some, but not a lot, which sucks because I love beans. Tofu is OK, but during my flare it gave me worse gas.
During a flare, my safe foods were cheese, meat, eggs, milk, fruit juice, vegetable juice, white bread, and cream of wheat. It was a fucking nightmare to try and get all the nutrients into me that I need. You will note that most of these are in fact animal products. I was under literal medical orders to keep the hell away from non-juiced fruits and vegetables.
Of course, a bunch of people came out of the woodwork to tell me that I could heal myself by cutting out all dairy and wheat and going vegan/raw vegan. People still do this regularly. I've deleted ten out of my inbox since yesterday.
If I tried to go vegan, it would be very, very rough on my traitor-ass large intestine and would probably send me into a flare. If I tried to go RAW vegan, it would probably mean surgery and might kill me.
972 notes · View notes
sixosix · 7 months
Text
a/n this fic is written for art @aanobrain hope u enjoy it art!!!! even tho i swear its ooc T__T </333
warnings 1k words, suggestive, gojo appears, reader is a mess
aka, nanami cooking with sleeves rolled up fic.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
you were almost convinced you were dreaming.
the sweet smell of good cooking has you salivating and springing upright from the bed without a second to waste. but that’s not right, because if you’re wrapped up in a warm blanket and not in the kitchen, who’s…?
you squint, belatedly perceiving that this is not your bed, and you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes.
and this is definitely not your door, or your living room, or your kitchen. you don’t even have a roommate; the man slicing radish with precise speed would also definitely not be yours, even though you now wish that was the case.
the creak of the floorboard has him pausing slightly, glancing at you. your gaze gets caught on his high cheekbones, then his sharp stare.
“good morning. i’m—y/n,” you blurt. maybe you could’ve started with, who are you and why am i not in my home?
“nanami,” he says, still staring as you fidget on your spot. much to your relief, he shifts his focus back to the cutting board when you shift uncomfortably.
“there’s miso soup on the table. it’s gotten cold,” nanami says without looking up from his work. “you wake up late.”
“i’m sorry…?”
as he’s mentioned, there’s a bowl on two sides of two chairs.
cautiously, as if nanami would scold you for the slightest wrong movement, you settle in one seat. the chair is cold and uncomfortable; you’re sure your mother has the same table set back home, yet this one looks like it was never touched when bought. never used.
“thank you for the food,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. your voice is drowned out by the knife hitting the cutting board.
the aroma from the miso soup is fresh and stronger than what you’re used to cooking up, but that was because you sometimes forget to turn off the heat before it boils. at first glance, you wouldn’t have assumed nanami would be talented in cooking. you’d think, with his figure, he’s out there posing for magazines and getting hand-fed by maids. but you suppose you were judging from the cover, because nanami has managed to perfect even the tiny details of scent and spice.
your eyes follow as nanami finishes chopping radish, his sleeves loose around his wrist. the way he moves around the kitchen—sliding to the sink, focused solely on what’s in front of him, giving you a proper view of his broad back—makes it look like he’s barely lifting a finger.
“this is good,” you whisper, wanting to get it off your chest without bothering nanami. but he still hears it, acknowledging it with a glance.
you take a sip, humming appreciatively at the taste, and then inhale on the wrong pipe when nanami rolls his sleeves up with his freshly washed hands. they’ve gone a shade darker from the water, which doesn’t help at all—not when it seeps and sticks against his forearms.
you’re coughing uncontrollably. he looks mildly concerned.
“i’m fine, i’m fine!” your face is burning, and you’re unmistakably not fine.
he gives you a glass of water, all while you pointedly stare at your miso soup. the ripples from your choking and slamming on the table feel like they’re poking fun at you.
not long after, nanami comes to the table with a plate of perfectly sliced rolled omelettes. you’ve already finished your miso soup, and you feel guilty that his has gone cold while cooking, but you don’t feel as bad when you take a bite of the food he’s prepared.
you groan reverently. “this is what you eat every morning?” you’re so, so unbelievably jealous.
“no,” nanami says, settling on the seat across yours. the domesticity nearly has you shaking. “i usually pick up breakfast on the way to work.”
but he stayed in to cook for you. you swoon internally.
“mayo,” he says, sliding his plate over to you. his forearms are still on display, and they’re very legit.
“did you assume i wouldn’t have slipped out?” you muse. “bold assumption. i don’t usually stick around long.”
“you were in no condition to ‘slip out’ even if you wanted to,” nanami says simply, eyes flicking up to yours. “and you must be getting the wrong idea. nothing happened.”
“what.”
“i slept on the couch.” there’s a ghost of a smile on his face—it must be from your befuddled expression. “last night, you went up to me. you told me you weren’t drunk, and then you passed out on me. you had no one else with you, so i figured i'd let you rest.”
“ah… ha. did you now?” you feel profoundly unsexy at the moment, especially on behalf of the night before.
“you were persuasive.”
you straighten, sticking your nose out to regain a bit of pride. “i prefer charming.”
“insistent,” nanami corrects, yet he gives you the last roll of omelette.
“thanks for taking care of me,” you say, bowing repeatedly, hoping that’d convey at least half of what you’re feeling. “and for not being creepy.”
“you don’t have to thank me for that,” nanami says dryly.
“oh ho, nanamin!” a new voice enters the conversation. nanami’s jaw ticks. “nanamin, nanamin, you rascal!” how did he get here without either of you noticing?
“gojo-san.” the man with a blindfold and white hair sticking out in all high angles grins wolfishly. “i wasn’t warned you’d be coming over.” nanami faces you, almost apologetically, “excuse me, gojo-san is just here to get something. run, if you need to.”
“sorry?”
“you’re so funny, nanamin. it’s good to catch you off guard, especially for moments like this,” gojo calls out as nanami walks back inside, not bothering to entertain him with a response. gojo then sizes you up. “who’re you?”
“me?” you briefly forgot that you’re still in the same hallway as them. “oh, i’m no one. no one you should worry about. who are you?”
gojo grins. “definitely not nanamin’s one-night stand.”
“i’m not even!” you exclaim, face hot. the guy narrows his eyes suspiciously, checking your face in various angles. and then your disappointingly empty neck. “i swear, i’m not. no hickeys or anything, see? he took care of me when i was blackout drunk, apparently.”
“and he didn’t kick you out as soon as you woke up?”
“...no? would you do that?”
gojo nods, more so to himself. “i see. so it’s already deeper than a one-night stand.”
“what?”
“he wants a piece of whatever you’re baking.”
“...?”
“gojo-san, stop tormenting my guest,” nanami says flatly, tossing a paper bag onto gojo’s face. it doesn’t quite hit him, instead sliding off. “please leave. i don’t need you here.”
“oh-ho,” gojo says mischievously. “i was going to be nice and make sure you’re not lonely coming to work, but it seems there’s already someone doing that to you, huuhh?” nanami doesn’t reply, pointedly setting his heavy gaze on you instead. gojo pouts. “oh, fine. don’t forget protection!”
nanami glances to the side as gojo skips off. he pulls out his phone and presents it to you, his low voice reverberating in your ears in the silence of the halls. “put your number in my phone.”
“um, why?” you ask suspiciously, yet still do as you’re told. nanami seems like the last guy on earth to have malicious intentions anyway. and you do owe him for this. “are you feeding me again?”
“to make up for what could’ve happened that night.”
Tumblr media
461 notes · View notes
Text
Aranara Mafia AU
-> Pt. 2
In Liyue, because of the recent famine, everything's also been collapsing, slowly but surely.
Ever since the Impostor disappeared, Liyue's trading ports have been closed due to how unstable the waters have been. Many suspect that it's a punishment from The Divine one for failing to capture the Impostor.
A few weeks since all ports in Liyue have shut down, the millelith started reporting more frequent robberies, mostly from small shops.
Oddly enough, the only things that went missing were either seeds for various fruits and vegetables, or fertilizer. Sometimes even mora in large quantities.
Because of the lack of seeds and fertile land, fresh food is now a rare delicacy. The common folk are forced to eat nothing but dried grain and snow.
Today is another ordinary day in Wangsheng Funeral parlor. Due to malnutrition everywhere, Wangsheng Funeral Parlor has been making quite a lot of mora.
Until one day, they receive an odd request from a customer. This customer in particular was from a group of anonymous people. But during these hard times, mora is mora, so they comply.
The request was to go to the Chasm, at midnight, around Cinnabar cliff, with 3 wooden coffins. So HuTao and Zhongli went there and arrived exactly at 12 AM.
Once they reached there, there was no one..? They tried searching the area a few times, but found nothing so HuTao went back to Liyue Harbour first, then after around 45 minutes Zhongli gave up and planned on going back to Liyue
His plan was interrupted as a bush started rustling near him. And from the bush emerged a small.. radish..? It was wearing sunglasses and a suit, smoking a cigar while holding a gun aimed directly at his head.
"Dig. Now."
Zhongli was slightly flabbergasted, about to disarm the small radish when another, and another, and another
Until around 8 popped out, all armed with guns.
"Hmph. Like I said, dig now, or else." The one smoking the cigar said. And so, Zhongli dug 3 holes, wondering if he's dreaming or erosion's finally taking a toll on his eyesight.
The other 7 radishes dragged out 3 dead millelith soldiers, putting each in a coffin one by one. At this point, Zhongli didn't know what to do at this point, he was confused, slightly scared, and more flabbergasted than ever. If he told anyone else about this, they'd send Zhongli to a mental asylum (if they exist in Teyvat) or laugh it off, thinking he was a silly old man with silly stories.
Once the radishes finished pushing the coffins into the recently dug holes, they walked away. The first radish, that's still smoking his cigar, hands Zhongli a leaf with a weird drawing on it and leaves a sack on the ground.
Meanwhile, in Vanarana
You should've kept your phone safely in your room.
If you had done that, then maybe the aranara wouldn't have tried making a gun.
Maybe they wouldn't have succeeded and made more.
Maybe the 3 millelith who were patrolling near Sumeru's entrance would still be alive.
Or maybe, the aranara wouldn't be attempting to make a full-blown nuclear bomb.
The aranara dance around you, giving you flowercrowns and thanking you for the knowledge you(r phone) gave them, now they're able to defend themselves against marana and evil nara around.
-> Pt. 2.5
-> Pt. 3
Should I make the next chapter about the Aranara testing nuclear weapons on Inazuma?
Also the aranara smoking a cigar is Arabalika :]
770 notes · View notes
beanghostprincess · 2 months
Text
The Strawhats go to Syrup Village when their adventure ends because they want to say hi and thank everyone they've met along the way. Luffy misses his old friends! And Usopp, of course, wants to see the Usopp pirates and... And Kaya. Kaya, mostly. They were dating before Usopp joined the crew and when Usopp started having feelings for Sanji, he sent a letter to her asking if she was fine with that being a thing. And of course, she said yes, because Sanji seemed like such a nice gentleman and if he made Usopp happy then she was happy too. But he hadn't taken into consideration how nervous Sanji would be meeting her. Which, you know, understandable. Meeting your boyfriend's girlfriend. Something totally, uh, normal for Sanji's little mind who had to have a whole crisis for two years about his sexuality and relationships. But you know, it's okay, because it's Kaya. So everything will be fine.
And it surprisingly goes great! Well, surprisingly for Sanji. Usopp knew it would be okay! Obviously!
They encounter the kids first, and they're- They're older and it makes Usopp feel old too. Because what the hell. They're taller and they look almost like teenagers and it's making his heart melt. God, he has missed them so much. They go running to him and asking questions and hugging him and Usopp doesn't think he can take this much happiness, really. He keeps bragging about his cool, awesome, powerful crew and bounty and says that he'll tell them all their adventures later. Piiman directly asks "So, which one of them is your boyfriend?!" and Usopp freezes because "How do you know I have a-" and Tamanegi jumps in like, "Kaya told us!" and Usopp obviously can't be surprised at that. Or mad. He wrote the letters for the kids too, after all. So while the crew waits there watching it all happen, Usopp tells Sanji to come with him and meet the three idiots he had for a crew. And Sanji knows them, of course. He takes a drag of his cigarette, stares at them, and instantly goes "Ninjin, Piiman, Tamanegi" pointing at all of them correctly. They're astonished, but before they can say anything, Sanji squints his eyes at them "I remember because you look like vegetables-" / (Usopp): Ooookay, Sanji, babe, enough!" And he changes the subject to ask if Kaya is home right now. The kids say yes. Yadda yadda yadda, and they start walking to her house. (On their way to Kaya's, btw: "If I cook tonight we're not having vegetables, I would feel bad-"/ "Sanji!" / "C'mon, it's funny- They're cute, I swear. Like cute little potatoes-" / "Do you want me to punch you?" / "If we have children, do you think they'd look more like a radish or a cauliflow- / "Dumbass. And those are the only children we're having for a while. Get used to them." / "Wait, I was joking! Do you- You want children? With me? I-" / "Sanji, please, not today.")
So they get to Kaya's and... And Sanji is excited. Nervous. But excited. Nami won't stop teasing Usopp about it, too. And he's not worried. He's okay. He's not anxious. Everything's gonna be okay and she will love the person he has become. Definitely. Nothing to worry about. But he's visibly shaking, and he didn't expect Sanji to be the one holding his hand to calm him down, but it happens. And he couldn't be happier.
So, of course, Luffy can't be fucking quiet and starts knocking on the door and yelling for Kaya to come to greet them. Even if it was supposed to be a surprise. And Nami says "Gosh, Luffy, calm down! She can hear you. Everyone can hear you, actually. Shut up and wait for-" but she can't finish her sentence because Merry is already there with the biggest of smiles, opening the door for them. Usopp just says a soft "Hi!" while Luffy wastes no time in going in.
Nami: Luffy! Wait for a damn second! Merry: Oh, well, not that we can control the King of the Pirates, can we? Nami: You don't need to tell me. Franky: You look like Merry. Merry: ... I am Merry? Franky: No, I mean the ship- Usopp: Franky, we've explained this to you. Franky: Not the part where the butler looks exactly like the ship, though? Usopp: Oh. True. Well. There you have it.
Everything happens a bit quickly. Kaya is walking down the stairs when they're walking in, and the second she sees Usopp she just has to hug him tight. Sanji steps away because, well, he doesn't want to get in between their reunion. And everyone thinks he's jealous or weird about it, but it only takes a moment to realize he's staring at them with the fondest of looks in his eyes. She's the most beautiful girl he's ever seen (apart from Nami and Robin, of course. But it's another type of beauty) and there's just this glimpse in his eyes nobody can actually describe.
Usopp and Kaya kiss and he starts to feel a bit dizzy because- Wow. Remembering her kisses is just as overwhelming as he thought it'd be. She's precious. He says they'll tell her all about their adventures. That he has truly become somebody she can be proud of. She says she has always been proud of him, and Usopp dies a little bit with that. When she's done staring at him, she tilts her head to the side saying hi to everyone else and she spots Sanji, hands on each side of him and bouncing his right leg. She lets go of Usopp to approach Sanji and grab his hands, and with a soft, tender smile, she says "I'm so glad you've been looking out for him. I've heard so many great things about you, Sanji! I truly hope we get to know each other better" and Sanji dies. Sanji instantly dies. Not from a nosebleed but a heart attack, probably. He's speechless for a whole second and nobody says anything. Because this sweet girl just said this in front of everyone and let's be honest, everybody is wondering how the fuck Sanji and Usopp are the ones with enough rizz to pull this wonderful girl. Anyway- I can imagine Jinbe laughing and saying "Usopp! You have a type!" and he's being genuine and sweet but it's so fucking embarrassing the sniper just wants to curl up and die.
Luffy, Nami, and Zoro see Kaya again and it's so, so sweet to see her being a doctor just like she wanted. She's healthy. She's adorable, like always. And she welcomes them into her house gladly. Kaya says hi to the rest and she. Absolutely. Adores. Chopper. That's probably the cutest doctor she's ever seen, and also the smartest! If Usopp and Sanji didn't need to talk with her, she'd probably spend the day talking to Chopper. She also gets along with the older members of the crew! They're all just so nice to her <3 Robin comments about how Usopp and Sanji have been talking a lot about her and Kaya giggles but it makes Usopp want to run away to a private place as quickly as he can. If Robin is the one talking about this, this means they will all keep the embarrassing conversation going and he can't have that.
They decide to stay for dinner, the way they had planned because Sanji is dying to cook for her and they just knew Kaya wouldn't let them go without having dinner with her. Besides, they've been staying for a while in every island so that they can enjoy their time with each person and decide what they want to do next. If they want to, you know, stay with the crew or choose to keep going with their lives outside of being a pirate (everyone chill, they're staying together. At least for a long while until they're old. Because otherwise, I will cry). So, Sanji cooks while the crew waits around the house. Talking to Merry and Kaya and wow!! The kids are staying too!! Awesome!! Usopp is in the kitchen with Sanji because he just needs a second to calm down. It's too much. In a good way! But god, he needs a second.
Usopp helps Sanji with a few things while they talk about everything and nothing. A kiss here and there. And then, Usopp is suddenly a bit uncomfortable about what he's about to say. "What do you think about, um, Kaya?" / "Are you really asking me that?" / "Yeah! Why wouldn't I? Maybe you don't- Fuck. I don't know. Maybe now that you've seen us together you don't want-" / "I want to, Usopp. More than anything." / "Really?" / "Yeah. She- She makes you happy. She even makes me happy and I just met her. And- I don't know. I guess she just looks a lot like my-"
But then the kitchen door opens quickly and it's closed just as fast, because Kaya is there, resting her back against the wall and smiling shyly at them both.
Kaya: Hi! Hi. I- Am I interrupting or-? Sanji/Usopp: No! Kaya: Oh! Oh, okay! I just thought It'd be nice for us to be together for a while? Alone? Usopp: ...... Luffy is being- Kaya: Nami? Usopp: Oh, fuck, yes, makes more sense. Sanji: Nami-san can be a bit assertive sometimes, but it's alright. Kaya: So it's okay if I stay? Usopp: Kaya, it's your kitchen- Sanji: Of course, madame. You're gonna be the first one to taste our dinner, then. I need opinions. Kaya: Oh, I'm not a cook. But I am sure your food is excellent! Sanji: Indulge me, please? Eat whatever you like. Usopp, whispering: Why are you being more romantic than me? She's my girlfriend. Sanji: And I am your boyfriend. She's, like, my girlfriend too, now. Usopp: Does that work like that? Sanji: Uh, not sure? Kind of? Usopp: ... As long as you two are happy. Sanji: You should eat too, by the way, mon amour. I am being serious when I say I want feedback.
They end up spending a long while together making dinner. While Usopp tells her about their adventures, she tells her about her life without him and her studies. How much she has been trying to help the village, too, and how the kids have been doing. Sanji asks them their opinions on the food. Asks them for help, too, if needed. And everything ends up being so domestic and nice that Usopp is surprised Kaya and Sanji just met. They're so in sync and they look so pretty together they even look like a couple already. Usopp thought he'd end up feeling left out (because he always does) but there's just something about them being together that makes his heart melt.
Skipping the dinner part, because it's just all of them having fun as usual and besides a few cute glances and blushes and compliments, there isn't anything remarkable about Sanusokaya here. They end up in Kaya's room after dinner, while the other crew members go do whatever. They have designated rooms and beds (the place is a fucking mansion, and there's room for everyone).
The thing is, they go to Kaya's room to talk about... Them. They don't know where to begin, so Usopp breaks the silence by telling Kaya about how he met Sanji. Things she already knows from letters, but she hasn't actively heard. And it's obviously more entertaining this way. So Sanji and Kaya sit on her bed while Usopp talks. And one thing leads to another and he's also explaining Skypiea. And Water 7. And when he gets to Dressrosa, something they had already talked about during dinner, Sanji decides to explain what happened back in Whole Cake Island. He didn't have this in mind. Opening up so much, he means. But there's just something about Kaya that makes him want to keep talking. So he explains a bit (not everything, of course) about his past. And she's so, so sweet about it. Holds his hand all the time. Rests her cheek on his shoulder. Usopp kisses both of their foreheads. And that's when Sanji stares at Kaya and says:
Sanji: You know? You remind me a lot of her. My mother, I mean. Kaya: Do I? The way you talk to her is so wonderfu- Sanji: You are wonderful. Kaya: Oh- Usopp: Sanji, you can't say that to her! That's my job. You're wonderful, babe. Kaya: Thanks, darling. I just- I was thinking that it could... If you are okay with it. Maybe I'm overstepping. That it could also be his job? God, I am explaining this awfully. I am a doctor, not a writer- Usopp: He would love to be your boyfriend. Sanji: Don't answer for me! Usopp: Weren't you going to say yes? Sanji: In a more romantic way, yes. Of course. Kaya: Really?! Usopp: I think he likes you more than he likes me- Sanji: Idiot. Don't ever say things like that. He's always so- Kaya: No, yes, you have to force the love into his head, huh? Sanji: Exactly! Usopp: Don't get too excited, Kay. He's just like that too. You say something good about him and he starts sobbing.
Long story short, they sleep together in Kaya's room, all tangled up and cuddling because they're the cutest, most adorable couple in the world. They stay for a while in the Village and spend some days together, growing closer and clingier every day. And sadly they have to say goodbye because they want to keep going with their journey (they have stuff to do. They tried to bring Kaya along, but she's the doctor of the village. She can't leave them alone) but she knows they'll come back to her. She trusts them to
70 notes · View notes
hunieday · 5 months
Text
Yuki - Idol Star Prince Stage Rabbit Chat
Tumblr media
Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access them, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!
Yuki: momo
Yuki: please talk to me about anything
Momo: Yuki?! Thank you for your hard work!
Momo: 
Tumblr media
Momo: I know you’re composing a song right now so are you stuck…?
Yuki: mhm
Yuki: I feel like im turning into an exhaustion stew
Momo: A Yuki stew, now that’s a new one?! I’d love stewed radish on my plate! 😋
Yuki: Then I’ll turn into a radish now. I’ll even add chili peppers free of charge
Momo: lololol
Momo: I only see you like this when you’re tired…are you okay? I can talk to you as much as you want, but is there anything else I could do for you?
Yuki: right now
Momo: Right now?
Yuki: dr
Momo: Dr?
Momo: Huh
Momo: Yukiiiii, are you okay?😭
Yuki: dri
Momo: Are you making me piece your quiz together one letter at a time?!
Momo: Driver?
Yuki: 
Tumblr media
Momo: You fell asleep…was I wrong…
Yuki: you were right up until the v
Momo: lololol I was close
Momo: Wait, is your word “a drive”?!
Yuki: yeah, somehow i want to go on a drive with you rather than talk through rabbichat
Yuki: it’s about time your magazine shoot wrapped up
Momo: Ahhh!!! Right!!!!! That was the plan but…
Momo: We’re waiting to shoot the last images with the sunset in the background, but there are clouds obstructing it…
Yuki: the clouds are holding momo back….
Momo: 
Tumblr media
Momo: I’m sorry to keep you waiting, it might be better to call it off for today…
Yuki: i’ll wait for you
Momo: huh
Yuki: i’ll wait for you. I don't think i’ll do anything if i just sit here in front of a computer screen
Momo: Yukiiiiiiii~~~~~~
Yuki: i know
Momo: I haven’t even said it yet!!!!! But the fact that you knew I was about to call you handsome makes you ultra handsome!!!!! >u<😍😆😍💚 
Momo: Haah… and I’m double nervous now because I was staring at a picture I took of you during your idol star costume fitting right before you messaged me 😍💚 
Yuki: hehe, you were staring at me?
Yuki: ah, I haven’t filled the idol star survey yet 
Momo: It must’ve been tough since you have so much on your plate, especially the composing stuff 😭😭
Yuki: What kind of questions did you get?
Momo: Mostly questions about princely stuff 🤔 “have you ever thought about being a prince?” something like that!
Yuki: never
Momo: Obviously! Yuki is already a handsome prince who takes me out on drives 🤴 ✨ 
Momo: There were also questions about whether I read adventure books where the prince fights to save the princess, especially as kids!
Yuki: i didn’t. we didn’t have books like that at home
Momo: I bet a dad like that wouldn’t buy those kinda books! 😆
Yuki: i knew such stories existed though. I thought it was weird to voluntarily go through to such lengths just to save a princess.
Yuki: why not leave it to a strong valiant knight. he has a better shot at succeeding anyways
Momo: That’s right!!!! lolol it would be meaningless to go help then get beat up and defeated 🤣
Momo: But the Yuki I know wouldn’t leave it up to some strong knight, he’d rush to the rescue himself 
Yuki: You think so?
Momo: For the juniors’ sake, you would greet the producers and tell them to “take care of those children”, then you strike a conversation with them during recordings! You’re so cool and dependable!
Momo: That’s the Yuki I know!
Yuki: thank you, Momo
Yuki: If you were the captured one and not the princess, I would definitely come running.
Yuki: So, if you don’t want to put me in danger, don’t keep secrets from me.
Momo: Yuki…
Momo: I’m sorry to interrupt this very heartfelt moment, but the sun is setting!! I’m gonna dash to wrap this up, so let’s talk about this in person!!!!!!!!!!
Momo: I’ll never do anything that would put you in danger, I promise, and I won't let you do anything reckless!!!!
Yuki: you better keep that promise
Yuki: I might not have a horse carriage or tea that’d suit a princess, but I’ll be waiting for you in my own car with momorin for you.
Momo: You are too good ✨ ‼️
Momo: Yuki, you’re the absolute best prince!
Momo: 
Tumblr media
Yuki:
Tumblr media
128 notes · View notes
leggerefiore · 9 months
Note
Can I get some sort of sweet domestic fluff with Larry? Like he’s actually got a day or two off to spend with his spouse? Does he do anything besides catch up on sleep?
cw: fluff
Larry felt stunned when he pulled out his phone to check his planner to figure out his schedule for today. It was unreal to him when he saw two “No work today” written in the To-Do fields. He felt stunned. A true day off…
What should he do? Well, if he gave it some proper thought…
He proceeded to pass back out.
Finally… Sweet, sweet sleep.
Though, he woke up not much later to a gentle hand shaking him awake. You kneeled beside him with a sweet smile. Larry yawned as he brought a hand up to rub his eyes. “I made breakfast,” you told him, “I tried… Uh, the kind you really like, but I'm not too sure how I did.” Larry blinked a few times before nodding and leaving the warmth of the comforter. As he headed out, his Staprator gave a caw at him from his perch. It felt so strange being at his home still.
The businessman followed you into the kitchen and sat down at the table. To his complete amazement, the table was full of dishes. Rice, grilled fish, soup, an omelette, some sort of vegetable dish and a pickled radish. How long had this taken you? He was already drooling. It had been too long since he last had a Johto style breakfast. His preferred taste in foods, not really a secret to those who knew him, despite his usual facade.
“Ah. Thanks,” his usual tired monotone came out against his clear excitement for the food, “You really didn't have to do all this. I would have been fine with a Paldean breakfast…” He may have a preference towards foods from Johto and Kanto, but he was well aware cooking that style was not easy nor were the ingredients that common in Paldea.
“It's nothing,” you told him while taking your seat at the table with him, “I was just amazed that you actually have a day off and wanted to surprise you with something nice.” Larry gave a curt nod before eagerly going in to enjoy the food. He felt delighted to have such a good meal after finally getting caught up on his lost sleep somewhat. You gave another sweet smile at him.
~
Larry shifted as you laid your head on his shoulder. Some food show played on the television, mostly as background noise for his nap. You had managed to weasel yourself onto the couch with him. His arm had come to rest across your shoulders, and you had one thrown across his chest. There was going to be no nap in this position. He sighed and let his free hand come to hold the one you had tossed across his chest.
He would admit that this was a pleasant change from spending his whole day off napping. Cuddling with you after his long, stressful hours had become something that he looked forward to. The show seemed less boring now as he focused more on the feeling of you pressed against him warmly.
~
“Uhh, love, you really don't have to do this,” Larry groaned as you leaned over him from behind. Your hands pressed against his exposed shoulders, having taken to wearing a tank top due to the summer heat. It felt pleasant to have you press your thumbs into the tense muscles of his back, but he did not want you to feel obligated to do such a thing.
You gave a scoff at him and continued your massage on his shoulders. He had taken to complaining about his back recently. The businessman grew lax at your touch and let out a soft moan. A smug feeling bubbled up in your chest. Larry accepted his fate of being forced to relax for now. “Thank you,” he spoke as you dug your thumbs into a particularly tense spot, “I'm already feeling a lot better.” You rolled your eyes.
“It'd be better if I could do your whole back, Larry,” you told him, “Come on, lay down. I want to make you feel born anew when you go back to the office.” The dark-haired man finally relented to you. It seemed you were just going to dote on him, no matter how much he insisted you did not need to.
~
“Hmm, do you think Staraptor would like this toy?” you asked Larry as you both perused the shopping district of Medali. He gave a look at the stuffed Tandemaus toy. Nodding, he placed it in the basket. Somehow, you both ended up walking around a pokemon care shop. He stocked up on extra food for his teams, and you investigated the toys. While he tried to play with them when he could, he knew that you could manage it much better than his capabilities.
You were close to his side as you both gazed at a tunnel toy. Instantly, you turned to him with pleading eyes. “Larry, Dudunsparce would that,” you told him plainly. He nodded and reached out to pick it up. He could already see the little snake burrow into it excitedly. It felt a bit embarrassing to admit you nearly knew his pokemon as well as he did.
“Ah… We should get more nesting materials for Altaria,” he suddenly remembered, snapping out from his thoughts, “She's been a bit broody lately…” You giggled at his words. A few people had gathered around you both, gazing at him with concerned expressions. He could only wonder why.
~
Larry felt nervous as you handed him some tomatoes. Why had he let you talk him into helping you cook dinner? An urge to ask you to instead go with him to the Treasure Eatery had to be suppressed. A challenger might somehow recognise him and attempt to battle him on his day off. He carefully diced them according to your request. He left the actual cooking part to you. The smell of spices hung heavily in the air as you seasoned the meat you were cooking.
“… It was nice spending the day with you,” you told him suddenly as he continued into chopping the lettuce, “I wish we could have more time together.” Larry found himself ready to nod along to your words but stopped himself.
“Me, too,” he decided to give a verbal reply, “I really enjoyed today. It was better than just sleeping my day off away.” You chuckled and moved the meat off the heat before moving a sauce of some sort onto it.
“I know you wanted to, though,” you sighed, “Geeta wants to work you to do death, I think. You should really talk to her about that.” He did nod that time, unsure what to say. His boss was a difficult person to speak to like that. She made her disappointment obvious in him. You finished your cooking and quickly arranged everything on plates. Larry took his own to the table with you following after him.
“I'll try to talk to her about getting more time off,” Larry said suddenly, to your shock, “I know you feel neglected by my work schedule.” You tried to walk back your statement, but the salaryman was not dumb. He slowly reached out to grab your hand. “I doubt she'll do it, but… Well, I want more sleep and time with you,” he let himself break his facade a bit, “I love you, dear.” You felt relieved by his words.
“I love you, too, Larry,” you leaned over to kiss him.
His night was spent cuddled up with you in bed, completely unconscious.
In fact, he slept so well that he slept through his alarm the following morning.
Ah, he thought, Geeta definitely won't listen to him now.
90 notes · View notes
suguwu · 9 months
Text
lover be good to me: part four
Tumblr media
You meet Kita Shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. You know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. He seems like a good man. Like a good soulmate.
But it’s your wedding day.
Tumblr media
masterlist
minors and ageless blogs do not interact
pairings: kita shinsuke x f!reader, oc x f!reader
notes: we are finally at the end. thank you so much for coming along on this ride with me. this fic truly is dear to me and i can't believe it's finally done.
as always, massive thanks to my beta for both the edits and the endless support throughout the process, especially when i thought writing this fic would never end.
title and part title are from hozier’s “be”
tags for this part (contains spoilers for fic): soulmate au (first words), this is a very reader-centric story, slow burn, pining, hurt/comfort, reader and kita are implied to be around their 30s, food consumption, non-graphic partner death (not kita), grief/mourning, healing, love as a choice.
wc: 12k
Tumblr media
You settle into the farmhouse. 
It’s easier than you thought. Maybe it’s the way Yoshida is brusque but kind; she’s not careful with you. It’s a refreshing change of pace. 
You find yourself at her side most nights, chopping vegetables or marinating tofu as she tells you about growing up in the country. She spins stories like thread, weaving them together like the expert seamstress she is. Her son joins in some nights too.
You still get lost sometimes, though.
The early mornings are the worst. 
The birds sing you to wakefulness, their song high and trilling, and you press your face into the pillow with a groan. “Loud. Shut the window, Aoshi,” you mumble, shoving out at him. Your hand hits empty space and your brow scrunches. You push to your elbows and find a room that’s not your own, though you blearily recognize the suitcase tucked into the closet. 
You shift on the bed and realize it’s too small. A twin.
It all comes pouring back in. 
“Fuck,” you say, low and quiet. The tears pool in your eyes, burning hot, and you try to blink them back to no avail. You curl in on yourself like a fiddlehead as you lie back down. 
You do not move for a very long time.
The world has gone blue when there’s a knock on your door, twilight settling in like the ocean tide, easing its way across the sky. You don’t answer. Another knock comes and then there’s Kita’s voice murmuring your name.
You almost ignore him. But there’s something in his voice you can’t resist, a melancholy thread woven in through the syllables of your name. You get to your feet and open the door.
Kita studies you for a moment. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go.”
You blink. “Go where?”
“My place. I’m cookin’.” 
“Shinsuke—”
“I know.”
You bite at your lower lip. Kita meets your gaze steadily, his amber eyes darkened to a deep, sweet brown by the dim lighting. There’s a promise in them too. 
“Okay,” you say at last. “Let me get dressed.”
He waits downstairs as you throw on some clothes. You can hear him talking quietly to Yoshida. He gives you a little smile when you join him at the genkan. 
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
It’s true autumn now and the slight chill in the air proves it. The rice stalks are spun gold, swaying in the wind as the truck trundles down the road to Kita’s farm. You watch a stork wade carefully through the fields. It dips down with its long, elegant neck and disappears from sight. 
The radio is playing quietly. Kita hums along with it sometimes, mostly at the old, crooning ballads. You watch the countryside roll by, the farmhouses little ships in the night, their lit windows a beacon as dusk falls. 
He bundles you into the farmhouse when you arrive, handing you a pair of house slippers that have little radishes on them. You can’t help your smile. 
You follow him into the living room and settle at the kotatsu when he points you there. It’s close enough that you can see into the kitchen through the open archway; he rolls up his sleeves and starts gathering ingredients from the fridge and the pantry.
“Can I help?” you ask after a few minutes, getting to your feet and joining him.
“Sure,” he says, handing you a freshly-washed daikon. “Slice that real thin, please.”
You make a cut. “This thin enough?”
He peers over. “A little thinner,” he says. “Can I?”
You nod and he takes your hands briefly, guiding them to the thinness he wants and pressing down. His hands are warm, his fingers and palm rough with calluses that catch lightly against your skin. He curls his fingers around yours, his tendons going taut, and pushes down. The knife slides through the daikon and stops against the cutting board. 
“There,” he says. “Like that.” 
“Okay.”
He nods and heads back to his cutting board which is laden down with a bright medley of varying vegetables. “What’re you doin’ tomorrow?'' he asks.
“Nothing,” you say. “Why?”
You sound more defensive than you mean to. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a sharp flicker of amber, but says nothing. 
“Was thinking you could come out to the fields with me.”
“I don’t know,” you say.
“It’d be good for you to get outside,” he says mildly. “Rather than being up in yer room all day.” 
Your knife thunks against the cutting board. Kita is unperturbed, only glancing your way briefly to make sure you’re not injured. He goes back to peeling carrots, his lean, strong hands moving quickly and with steady confidence. 
You study him for a moment, taking in the set of his lips and the soft furrow of his brow. You sigh.
“Okay,” you say. “I’ll come.”
He flashes you a tiny quirk of his lips, a smile that’s as fleeting as a summer storm and just as warm. 
“Good.” 
He keeps cooking as he talks, pulling you from your thoughts when you get lost in them, when the fog starts to roll back in like a marine layer. It’s uncanny, how well he can tell when you’ve been set adrift. He’s a mooring you didn’t know you needed. 
Kita hums his thanks as you give him the daikon. He slips them into a pickling mix before handing you a cucumber. 
“Peel and cut thin?” you ask.
“Yup.” 
As you peel, you can’t help but watch as he moves about the kitchen. He moves as efficiently as ever, no wasted movement, but there’s something soft to it too. You can’t quite pin it down. 
“Yer staring.”
“Am I?”
“You know you are.” 
You shrug, starting to cut up the cucumber. “I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“Nothing important,” you say, waving him off. “Tell me how Aran is doing, he and I haven’t talked for a while.” 
The rest of the cooking goes by quickly as you talk and soon you’re both settled at the kotatsu. It’s radiating warmth. You snuggle deeper into it; with the sun fully set, it’s grown even more chilly outside despite the heat of the day. Winter is still a ways off, but you can feel the first touch of it hidden in the autumn breeze that leaks in through the window Kita had left cracked to keep the kitchen from overheating. 
You glance over the food. Kita’s kept it simple but hearty. There’s steam curling through the air in little smoky wisps. You watch as it dissipates and then take the plate that Kita hands you with a small thank you.
It’s a good meal. The two of you talk through it with ease, never missing a beat and rarely with an awkward pause. When you lapse into silence, it’s comfortable. 
“I should go,” you say eventually, glancing at the clock. “I don’t want to wake Yoshida when I come in.”
“Alright.” 
He drives you home, the headlights of his truck cutting through the night. The moon is out now; it bathes the fields with light until they practically shimmer. The crickets are calling, their song audible even over the low purr of the truck’s engine. 
When you pull up to Yoshida’s, there’s a light still on at the engawa, a soft glow to lead you home. It warms something in you.
Kita walks you to the door. 
“How early do I have to get up tomorrow?” you ask. “Do I even want to know?”
He laughs quietly. “Ya don’t need to keep my schedule,” he says. “I’ll come get you after lunch.” 
“Okay.”
He looks at you. His usual stoicness has faded into something warm and open; you take a deep breath. You bid him a quiet goodnight that he returns just as quietly, his amber eyes knowing. 
You go to sleep with your hand wrapped around your wedding rings. 
***
“Sunscreen,” Kita says, holding out the tube to you. 
“I know, I know,” you grouse, taking it from him. “You don’t have to remind me.”
“You forgot last time.”
“Point taken.” 
You apply the sunscreen as he gathers what he needs. He’s still rustling around when you finish. You turn your face up to the sun, letting the rays brush over your skin like a lover, a sweet kiss of heat. 
When you open your eyes again, Kita is watching you with a tiny smile, a crescent moon of a thing. Something in you pangs. 
You glance away from him and look to the rolling fields instead. In the bright sunlight, they’re Midas-touched, scorched gold with a hint of green at the bottom of each stem. It’s a sea of rice, rippling in the breeze like kelp caught in the ocean’s current, and it’s beautiful in a way that makes you feel small. 
Kita comes up beside you and gazes at his farm.
“It’s pretty,” you tell him.
“It’s gotta get cut,” he says.
“I know.”
He glances at you. You blink as he reaches out and smudges his thumb against your cheek. It’s gentle, his touch careful despite the rough calluses on the pad of his thumb. “Ya missed some sunscreen,” he says, rubbing it in with a light sweep. He lingers for a moment before pulling away.
“Oh. Thanks,” you say, biting at your lower lip as he turns away.
“C’mon,” Kita says. 
You follow him deep into the field, to a swath of already cleared land. The two of you settle at the edge of it. You watch as he lays out a woven bag with a label stamped on the front of it. He crouches down by the nearest stems of uncut rice and runs a hand over them, thumbing at the panicles with a deft movement. 
You don’t think he knows he’s smiling. 
“What do you want me to do?” you ask.
He glances back at you. “Can you lay out the bags? One at each pole should do.” 
You nod and set to work. He starts cutting at the rice. He makes it look easy, slicing through the stems as if they’re butter. The rice stalks start to pile up beside him as you make your way down the field with the bags. 
He’s made a significant dent by the time you’re back. He leans back on his heels as you approach again, wiping off his forehead with the back of his hand. His hair is clinging to him, dark with sweat, deepening the color to slate gray, like the winter sea. He smiles at you. 
“Can I try again?”
He’d taught you how to cut last time after you asked, citing the fact that you’ve been coming to the field with him for almost two weeks without trying. 
“Sure,” he says. He hands you a pair of gloves; you slip them on. “D’ya remember how to hold it?”
You kneel next to him, wrapping your fingers around a handful of stems. “Like this, yeah?”
“Thumb pointing up,” he says, reaching out and adjusting your grip. “And tighter.” 
He tightens his grip around your hand to show you, his strong fingers flexing. You copy him and he lets go when he’s satisfied with your grip. He hands you the knife—curved with a wicked edge—and sits back on his heels again.
“15 centimeters, yeah?” you ask, setting the edge of the knife against the stalks there.
“That’ll work.” 
You slice in a downward angle; the stalks part beneath the blade like silk. You hand off the rice to him to add to the pile. You keep working, feeling the sweat start to gather on your back, a few droplets rolling down before getting absorbed by your shirt.
“Good,” he says.
He lets you do a few more handfuls before he takes the knife back. You watch him work. He’s much quicker than you, moving with an easy grace.
“Why don’t ya head back to the truck,” he says, slicing through another handful of stalks. “I’m almost done.” 
You listen to him, heading back to the truck and settling in the bed of it, swinging your feet off the edge. You lay back and turn your gaze up to the sky, watching as a flock of birds goes soaring past, their wings dark against the deep blue of the sky. 
Kita joins you after a bit. You’ve been watching a hawk circle, riding the current high above you, and you don’t bother to sit up when you hear him approaching. 
He climbs up into the truck bed. He settles next to you and then lays down beside you, staring up at the sky with you. 
The two of you are quiet. You watch as the hawk wheels and wheels overhead before it dives down, dropping like a shooting star through the sky. 
You turn towards him; he’s already looking at you. His amber eyes are soft and you suck in a breath, your stomach flipping. 
“Shinsuke,” you say gently. “You know I can’t give you what you want, right?”
“I’m not askin’ you for anything,” he says, just as gently.
“I know. I just—I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, with Aoshi gone.”
He studies you for a moment. Then he smiles, warm and sweet and a little bit sad. 
“It’s always what you’re willing to give,” he says. “Nothing more and nothing less. That’s the only idea I have.”
You suck in a breath, fidgeting with your sleeve.
“Okay,” you say. “Okay.”
You both go quiet again. 
Kita pushes up to his elbows; you peer up at him.
“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get going.”
“‘Kay.” 
He hops down from the truck bed gracefully before holding out a hand to help you down. You hesitate. He waits patiently, looking up at you. You take his hand without a word, his calluses rough against your palm.
You’re both quiet on the drive back to Yoshida’s. You spend the time looking out the window, watching the fields roll by. There are other farmers still hard at work, their blades flashing in the last dregs of the sunlight, like a dance. It’s a sight you never tire of. 
The sun has almost set by the time Kita drops you off. You toe off your shoes in the genkan and find Yoshida in the kitchen, scrubbing down the counter. There’s something savory in the air, rich and thick, and you spot a pot bubbling away on the stovetop, steam curling up from it like smoke. 
She eyes you for a moment. You don’t know what she sees in your face, but she gestures you into a seat.
“The fields are doing ya some good,” she says, her eyes still on the soapy counter.
“Are they?”
She nods decisively. “Yer different. You’re coming back to the world.”
You bite at your lip, worrying the flesh between your teeth. It doesn’t feel like it to you; some days you think you’ll never be in step with the world again, destined to always be just a few paces behind. 
“It’s hard to see it in yerself,” Yoshida says. “But it’s there.” 
“If you say so.”
“I do.” 
You can’t help the smile. A smile blooms on her lips too, small but sure. 
“I need to weed tomorrow. Could use your help, unless Shin-chan is going to steal you away again.”
“I’ll help,” you say, ignoring the last bit.
She studies you with keen eyes, opening her mouth to say something, but the front door opens and her son calls out a greeting. 
The rest of the night is quiet and morning comes before you know it.
You stare up at the ceiling as the sun rises, watery light leaking in through the sheer curtains. For a moment, you consider rolling over and going back to bed, but you can hear Yoshida shuffling around in her room. You resign yourself to getting up for the day.
A light breakfast later, you’re on your knees in the garden. The soil is still wet with morning dew and it sticks to your skin. The scent of wet loam rises around you, like the earth is welcoming you home. You let it fill your lungs.
The garden is a beautiful one, lush with autumn vegetables. You weed around the fat, sunshine yellow squashes, each one brighter than the last. The carrots are just peeking above the soil, little suns creeping up over the horizon. Their greens sway gently in the breeze. 
You’ve forgone gardening gloves despite Yoshida’s offer. It feels good to sink your fingers into the dirt, to pinch the weeds’ roots and pull them up gently. 
You’re still working when Kita’s truck trundles up the driveway. You sit back on your haunches and wipe the sweat from your brow as he gets out and comes your way.
“Hi,” he says with a little smile. “Hard at work, I see.”
“Gotta earn my keep,” you say, earning a snort from Yoshida who is working just a garden bed over.
“You have time for a break?”
“Depends,” you say, glancing at the bag he’s carrying. “Are those snacks?”
“Yup.” 
“Then I do,” you say, pushing to your feet. “Let me go wash my hands.” 
You eat together on the engawa, gazing out into the farmland. The wind chimes rustle above you, clinking lightly, a crystalline symphony just for the two of you. You sit back on your hands as Kita unpacks what he’s brought. 
It’s onigiri. They’re still warm, steam curling up from them when you break one open. A little bit of the filling spills out but you’re quick to catch it on your thumb, popping it into your mouth. 
“Thank you,” you say, giving him a nudge with your elbow. “They’re good.”
“Yer welcome.” 
“You take care of me so well,” you say with a little laugh. 
“I try,” he says, utterly serious. 
You flinch. It’s tiny, but from the way his gaze finds you, a firefly flicker, he notices. But he doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to take another bite of his onigiri. 
“Shin-chan,” Yoshida calls. “Come help an old woman with the watering.” 
You glance up to see that she’s heaving a full bucket of water towards the garden. Kita pushes to his feet immediately, crossing to her in a few easy strides. He takes the bucket without even pausing, lifting it with a single hand. 
“Granny,” he chides. “Ya could’ve gotten hurt.” 
She shrugs. He follows her to the garden beds, glancing back to send you a little smile. You watch him as he carefully waters the garden under Yoshida’s rigid instructions. The sun catches in his hair, bronzes his tanned skin. That same smile he’d flashed you lives on his lips, a quiet contentment tucked up secret into the corner of his mouth.
Kita comes back to you when he’s finished watering, settling at your side on the engawa once more. He eats the rest of his onigiri quickly. 
“I’ve gotta get back to the fields,” he tells you. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” you say. “Go do your job.”
He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling with it.
He leaves soon after. You watch him go, until all you can see of his truck is the cloud of dust being kicked up behind it, until the horizon swallows him. 
Yoshida stands next to you on the engawa, shading her eyes as she watches him go too. 
“He’s a good man,” she says casually.
You glance at her. 
“He is.” 
“You could do much worse in a man.”
“It’s not like that.”
She raises a brow.
“It’s not. It’s just…complicated,” you say, winding your fingers through your necklace’s chain. Your rings clink against each other softly, the sound lost in the myriad of wind chimes surrounding you. For a moment you drift, tears pricking at your eyes before you blink them away.
“‘Course it is,” she says. “Most things are. But ah, pay no mind to an old lady. Let’s go harvest some of the squash.” 
You spend the rest of the day in the garden, harvesting away. The first frost isn’t too far off and you need to make sure you don’t lose any of the vegetables to it. Yoshida tells you exactly what to pick and what to leave. 
Night falls and you cook the first of the squash, painting it with a sweetened miso glaze that gleams stickily as you serve it. Yoshida makes a few side dishes too, putting them in pretty kobachi dishes. They’re delicate things, the soft silver of the moon, and you find yourself thinking of Kita. 
You shake yourself free of the thought before it fully forms. Yoshida’s son pulls you into a conversation and you chatter the night away, until you’re yawning between sentences. You finally trudge up to your room. 
The window lets in the faintest hint of gossamer moonlight. You gaze out into the night, into the endless countryside. You can just barely make out the next farmhouse, a lighthouse in the sea of darkness, its lights glittering on the very edge of the horizon. 
It looks lonely. You think of Kita again, of the little island of his farmhouse, how it’s tucked between the paddies with no other home in sight. You think of him alone at the kotatsu, reading glasses perched on his nose, and feel something in your chest clench.
You pull the curtains shut and go to bed.
***
The rest of the week rolls by and so does the next. It grows colder each day, winter’s first kiss. The leaves are going orange, as if little fires are catching the edges. It sets the trees ablaze with color. You hop from leaf to leaf as you and Kita walk along the road, delighting in each little crunch. 
“Having fun?” he calls out.
You turn around to face him, shading your eyes with one hand. His more sedate pace has left him lagging, but he’s quickly catching up now that you’ve stopped. “Can’t you tell?”
His breath mists in the air, a marine layer, and his lips quirk up into a little smile. “I can,” he says. “Just be careful, yeah? There’s still some frost lingering.”
You hum an acknowledgement and stomp on your next leaf. He chuckles quietly and you fall back to walk with him, shoving your hands into your pockets to ward off the cold. 
“Hey,” you say softly. “You know my sabbatical is almost over, right?”
He nods. “I know.”
“I think I’m gonna go home midweek next week,” you say. “Just to give myself some time to settle before I have to go back to work.” 
“Makes sense,” he says. “Let me know the details and I’ll get you to the station.” 
The two of you keep walking, huddling into each other slightly when the wind picks up. Some of his hair wisps across your face, the touch like silk against your skin. You shiver with it and return your gaze to the countryside, to the rolling hills and the shorn paddies. 
One or two of the trees are already fully bare; they reach towards the sky with long-fingered branches. There’s a murmur of swallows nestled in the nearest one, so numerous it’s as if the tree has leaves again. As you watch, they take to the skies, undulating through the soft gray-blue of it. 
“I’ll miss it,” you say softly.
“Bein’ here?”
“Yeah.” 
“Ya can come back anytime, y’know. There’s always a place for you.” 
You glance at him. His stoic face has softened and you think of the thaw of a spring day. How the quiet warmth of it melts the chill away. 
“Thanks, Shinsuke.”
“Mhm.” 
The two of you walk together quietly before turning around to head back to Kita’s farm when the chilly breeze becomes a whistling wind. It whips through the fields to cut through your clothing and you press into Kita without thinking, seeking the warmth of his solid form. He unwinds his scarf and drapes it around your neck; you don’t bother to protest. He’s immovable about things like this. Instead, you burrow into the warmth of it. 
You all but tumble into the genkan of the farmhouse. Kita follows you at a more sedate pace. You toe off your shoes and slip on your usual pair of house slippers. He does the same and you watch as he puts his shoes away carefully, arranging them perfectly within the cubby. 
You both settle at the kotatsu, huddling under the thick down of the blanket. You trace a finger over one of the origami cranes patterned into it. They’re perfect, so different from the clumsy paper cranes you’d both made with some of the local children the other day. 
Kita turns on the kotatsu. It starts to warm almost immediately and you sink into the heat of it with a quiet sigh.
“What’re you smiling about?” you ask him.
“You,” he says simply. 
You roll your eyes. “Okay,” you say. 
“D’ya want tea?” 
“Sure.”
He slips out from under the kotatsu and heads into the kitchen. You turn enough that you can still see him; you like watching him make tea. He’s careful and respectful of the process from beginning to end, but you like how it loosens his shoulders, how he unfurls, a night-blooming flower.
He rejoins you at the kotatsu once the tea is made, handing you a steaming cup. The scent of it billows through the air. When you sip at the tea, it settles warm in your chest, pushing out the autumn chill. 
“You’ll have to teach me how to make tea like this,” you tell Kita. 
He smiles into his cup. “It’s not hard.”
“Says you.”
“Might not have time to teach you before you go,” he says with a frown. “The farm—”
“You can teach me when you visit.” You pause. “You will visit, right?” 
“Of course.”
“Good,” you say, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “You can teach me then.”
He agrees and the conversation flows until it’s late. You peer out into the darkness and see the moon—full-bellied with light—is beginning to set, sinking through the dark ocean of the sky like an anchor. 
“Shit,” you say. “I didn’t mean to keep you up.”
“S’fine,” Kita says. “I don’t mind.”
“I know, I know. Ugh, I’m gonna wake up Yoshida when I get in.”
“You can stay, y’know.” 
You glance at him. He meets your gaze steadily.
“I have a guest room,” he reminds you. 
“Okay,” you say after a moment. “Okay.”
“You’ll have to get up early, though.”
“That’s fine.” 
He smiles softly. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s finish cleaning up.”
You clean up the kotatsu quickly; despite the late hour, Kita still takes the time to wash the dishes. He washes them with careful concentration and something in your chest pangs. 
“Go ahead to the guest room,” he says. “‘M almost done here. I’ll see if I can find you somethin’ to sleep in.” 
“It’s fine,” you tell him. “Don’t worry about it.”
“You sure?”
“Mhm.”
“Alright.”
The guest room is homey, with a handmade quilt patterned with rice plants that almost look like they’re rippling in the wind. You trace a finger over one of them as you glance around the rest of the room, taking in the way the stark cleanliness is offset by the items scattered about: the fan patterned with cherry blossoms hanging on the wall; the plant at the window, lush despite the season; a paperweight on the desk, glass swirled through with blue and white, the ocean roiling within it. It’s not quite Kita, but you can sense him in it all the same. 
Kita knocks on the door frame. You turn to look at him. “Here,” he says, holding out a toothbrush and toothpaste. “Thought you might need these.”
“Thanks,” you say, sending him a little smile. “Appreciate it.”
“‘Course.” 
“Night, Shinsuke.”
“G’night,” he says. “I’ll wake you in the morning.”
“Sounds good.”
He disappears into his room.
You get ready for bed and slide under the covers. The quilt is heavy and warmth builds quickly under it, like a banked fire. You turn your face into the pillow to hide from the moonlight slanting in through the window. The pillowcase smells vaguely like Kita and the simple detergent he uses. 
Sleep comes easily.
So easily that it feels like you’ve only been asleep for a second when Kita’s knocking on the guest room door to rouse you for the day. Blearily, you slip on your clothing before trudging into the kitchen. 
Kita glances up as you enter. His hair is still damp from the shower; it glistens like the gray winter sea beneath a bleak sun. 
“Mornin’,” he says.
“Hi,” you grumble.
He breathes out a quiet laugh. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get you home.” 
You drowse on the ride back to Yoshida’s, just aware enough to hear the quiet hum of the radio as it fills the truck’s cab. The sun is starting to rise, the first fingers of light painting the horizon orange, like embers just beginning to catch. You turn away from it, curling into yourself in the front seat. 
The truck rumbling to a halt wakes you. You grouse and Kita laughs again. He doesn’t bother to dodge when you swat at him.
“Thanks for letting me stay,” you say with a yawn, one hand on the car door’s handle, already looking forward to crawling back into bed. 
“‘Course,” he says. “You always have a place with me.”
You pause. 
“Yeah,” you say softly. “I know.”
His eyes crinkle with his smile. 
“Go to work,” you tell him.
“Yes ma’am.”
You hop out and head to the genkan. You hear the truck rumble to life behind you, the engine practically purring. By the time you make it to the genkan and look back, Kita is already down the road.
You watch until he’s gone from view.
***
This early, the train station is quiet.
The sun is still rising, casting pale golden rays across the parking lot. It haloes Kita in light as he pulls your suitcase from the truck bed, his muscles flexing with the movement. You take it from him and the two of you head towards the platform together.
“Travel safe, alright?” he says when you come to a halt just before the doors. 
“Shinsuke,” you say, “thank you for everything.” 
“Anytime.” 
“You’ll visit?”
“I’ll visit,” he confirms. “You?”
“I’ll come back,” you say. 
“Good.”
He smiles at you, a slow, sweet thing that makes you think of the sun’s rise. It’s steady and sure, unshakeable. 
You throw your arms around him in a hug. He stumbles for a second, caught off guard, but he catches himself quickly and wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly. You bury your face in his shoulder. He smells like plain soap, fresh and clean, with the faintest kiss of lemon, a touch of sour citronella that you know he uses for the fields. 
When you pull away, the tips of his ears are pink. 
“Bye, Shinsuke,” you say.
“Bye,” he says softly. 
You head inside the station. When you glance back, you can just make out the silhouette of him, lean and strong. He must be able to see you, because he gives a little wave before he turns away. 
The train is almost empty when you board it and you settle in a window seat. You close your eyes and turn your face towards the sun, the gentle rays just barely starting to warm as they brush against your skin. 
You open your eyes when the train starts to move, peering out of the window as the countryside speeds by. The rice fields are shorn short now but the gold of them hasn’t faded. The remains of the stalks reach towards the great blue sky, two expanses meeting. Beyond the fields, even the hills are going golden, though they’re slower, with green patches scattered across them like lily pads in a pond. 
You think you might be leaving a part of yourself in the expanse of the country. That the fields have swallowed up some part of you, like the earth swallows a seed. It makes something in you pang.
Soon enough, the countryside melts away into the suburbs. Then come the neon lights of the city, streaking by like fireflies, little blips of color that blink to life here and there. 
You hadn’t realized how much you missed it. 
The house is quiet when you step into the genkan; only the musical clink of your keys fills the space. The greeting is on the tip of your tongue, but you catch it behind your teeth and swallow it back down. You take in a deep breath and set your suitcase down before brushing by the photos in the entryway, most of them facedown. 
It takes time to unpack. Most of your clothes are clean, but you run a load of laundry anyway, listening to the way the water swishes and spins, the low rumble of it filling the house. You text Kita to let him know you’ve arrived safely and then collapse onto your couch, staring up at the ceiling. 
You don’t know how long you lie there before you hear the door to the house open. Muffled bickering floats to you from the genkan and you push yourself up just as Abe comes barreling around the corner. 
She skids to a stop just before the couch and grins down at you. 
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi,” you reply. “Did you break in?”
“No,” Yoshikawa says, appearing from around the corner. She twirls something around her finger; it glints in the light. “Used the spare.”
“It’s funny,” you say. “I don’t remember inviting either of you over.”
She shrugs elegantly, her long hair swaying like kelp in a current. “Did you really think we were going to miss you coming home?”
“No,” you say with a little laugh. “I didn’t.”
“Good.” 
You exchange hugs with both of them, holding them tightly and yelping when Abe spins you in a circle. Yoshikawa is more sedate but her hug is strong and warm. You blink away the tears before they can fall.
The three of you settle into the living room. You catch up with each other easily, swapping stories and laughing together, the sound billowing through the room to fill even the darkest corners with joy. Your heart aches as Abe throws back her head and laughs, her dark hair shimmering in the light, her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.
“You’re too easily entertained,” Yoshikawa informs her, but there’s a smile playing at her lips too, downy-soft and deeply pleased.
“Shut up,” Abe says, still giggling. 
For a moment, you just watch them, taking in their features, their smiles, the sound of them. You want to commit them to memory, parts of them that you’ve taken into yourself to treasure, to keep. Pieces never to be lost.
“Hey,” Yoshikawa says. “What’s wrong?”
You realize that your cheeks are hot and wet. You scrub a hand over your face as more tears fall. 
“Nothing,” you say. “I just really missed you.”
She hums, but doesn’t push you on it, sending Abe a look when she opens her mouth. “We missed you too,” she says. “Do you want us to spend the night?”
“Yeah,” you say softly, thinking of how empty the house was before they filled it. “That would be great.”
“Okay.” 
The conversation picks up again, only pausing when you order takeout as night falls. Though you’ve spoken consistently with them while you were in the country, there are still stories to tell. The three of you talk and talk, full of laughter and love, and it only feels a little bittersweet.
As the night deepens, Yoshikawa and Abe go to the genkan and grab the bags they’ve brought, much to your embarrassment. Abe pats you on the shoulder as you bury your face in your hands. Neither of them comment.
You tumble into bed with them in a mess of limbs. When the dust settles, you’re curled up on your side of the bed, almost pushed off the edge by Abe’s starfished limbs. You poke her in the stomach and she curls up with a groan. You reclaim the space quickly.
“Rude,” she tells you. 
“You were taking up the whole bed!”
She grumbles but doesn’t bother to argue. 
Quiet falls, only the gentle sound of breathing filling the room. You snuggle down into your comforter, pushing closer to Abe and relishing her warmth.
“I invited Shinsuke to visit,” you breathe.
Yoshikawa pushes up to her elbows behind Abe, peering down at you with her dark, knowing eyes. 
“Here?” she asks.
You nod, the pillowcase crinkling against your cheek.
She hums, low and sweet, a honeyed thunder. “You’ll let him stay at the house?”
“I don’t know,” you say, thinking of Takao, the way he’d been flayed open when he asked you to not bring Kita to the house. “Aoshi—”
“Isn’t here,” Yoshikawa says gently. “You don’t have to hold on to that promise if you don’t want to.”
You blink against the tears as they swell up, beading on your eyelashes like little diamonds. Abe reaches out and cups your cheek. 
“You’ll figure it out,” she says softly. “You don’t need to know now.” 
You close your eyes, a few more tears trickling down. The pillowcase is damp beneath your cheek. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re right.” 
“I always am,” she says, and then yelps when Yoshikawa pinches her. “Ow, Yocchan!”
Yoshikawa ignores her, settling back down onto the bed with a yawn.
It’s contagious; you find yourself yawning as well and snuggle down deeper into the comforter once more. Abe shifts closer, seeking heat.
You fall asleep with her pressed tight against your side.
It feels like coming home.
***
Fall fades away.
The trees lose their leaves entirely, leaving branches that reach into the sky with scraggly fingers. Frost creeps over the windows in icy whorls, a cobweb of winter, fanning out in intricate patterns that melt when you breathe on them. The winter sun glows in the softened blue of the sky, only to be replaced with gray clouds.
The first snow is falling when you go to pick up Kita.
The flakes are fat and fluffy, perfectly crystalline. They flutter through the air like butterflies, spinning in great, lazy arcs as they drift to the ground. They melt as soon as they hit the pavement. 
They catch in Kita’s hair as the two of you head into the house, little dew drops that make his gray hair shine. He’s cherry-cheeked with the cold, his face half-buried in his scarf. It’s cute. Something in you pangs when he sends you a little smile, only discernible by the way his eyes crinkle at the edges. 
The two of you peel off your outer layers in the genkan. Kita puts his away carefully, at odds with your slightly haphazard method of kicking your boots away to find later. 
“It’s future me’s problem,” you tell him and he just shakes his head, a small smile caught in the corner of his lips. 
You show him to the guest room, freshly made up for his visit, and linger in the hallway as he stores his suitcase. 
“Dinner?” you ask as he steps out into the hall again.
“That’d be great.”
“C’mon, I’ve got some things ready in the kitchen.” 
“Sounds good.”
He follows you into the kitchen and insists on helping. You direct him to the plates as you check on what you’ve made. There’s colorful tsukemono, each pickled vegetable bright in its own way, stained to watercolors by the pickling liquid. The curry is thick and bubbling, with chunks of heavily marbled meat and vegetables coated in the sauce. The rice is steaming lightly and so are the nikuman, each bun pinched shut perfectly. 
“Ya didn’t need to go to all this trouble,” Kita says, eyeing the food as he sets the table. 
“Too late,” you say cheerfully. “Eat.” 
He smiles softly, shaking his head, but sits down when you gesture. You join him and the two of you start to fill your plates. 
You talk quietly as you eat, all easy chatter. Part of you can’t help but think of the beginning, when everything with him was stilted and careful. That’s changed through the years but it’s even easier now, the conversation flowing like a river, calm and unchanging. 
When you’re done eating, Kita collects the plates and brings them to the sink. He rolls up his sleeves and turns the water on. You sigh but don’t bother to say anything. Instead, you settle in next to him with a dish towel in your hand. 
He’s radiating a soft, gentle heat. It takes conscious effort to not lean into him. 
He washes and you dry, falling into an effortless rhythm. 
“Are you seeing Aran while you’re here?” you ask.
“He’s away trainin’,” Kita says, handing you another dish. “So’s Atsumu. I’ll see Osamu, but you know I’m here to see you, right?”
Your cheeks heat. “I know,” you say. “But two birds, one stone, y’know?”
He hums, rinsing off the final dish and drying his hands. He leaves his sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. For a moment, you watch the play of his muscles, the way they coil beneath his tanned skin as he picks up the dry dishes and brings them back to the cabinet. You look away when you realize what you’re doing.
You both go to bed early that night; Kita’s tired from his usual early wake-up and the travel. You try not to laugh as he bids you goodnight. It’s cute, the way he blinks sleepily, his amber eyes softened to a honeyed brown. 
You can hear him as you get ready for bed, the quiet little noises of another person’s presence. It soothes something in you. 
You glance at your wedding rings, ensconced in a little jewelry dish on your nightstand. They gleam in the light. You run your fingers over them, tracing the cool metal gently. 
You put them away in a drawer before you go to sleep.
***
The snowstorm hits on the last day of Kita’s visit. 
The wind whips between buildings, catching the snowflakes and tossing them about like ships on a stormy sea. The snow piles up into thick drifts, the silken white of it gone yellow beneath the glow of the street lights, like a melting pat of butter. 
You and Kita watch the storm from where you’re tucked under the kotatsu. You’d pulled it out when you’d heard the forecast, the two of you working together to get it set up. It still works, luckily, and the two of you sit next to each other and bask in the soothing warmth. 
The wind slows; you gaze at the snowflakes as they slow, drifting like dancers across the stage, each puffy flake a part of its own ballet. Everything has gone quiet, muffled at the edges. It’s like the world is waiting to take its next breath. 
“What are you thinking?” Kita asks softly.
When you glance at him, he’s already looking at you.
“I don’t know,” you say, your voice just as soft as his. “All sorts of things.”
He hums quietly.
The wind picks up again; the windows rattle with it. You shiver, snuggling further under the kotatsu. Kita shifts. His leg presses against yours, a line of warmth even under the heat of the kotatsu. 
You glance at him. He’s watching the storm. It reflects in his eyes, lightening them, taking them from amber to gold. You think of the rice fields at their peak, when they’re treasured gold, and can’t help the small smile that curls around your lips.
Perhaps he feels your gaze, because Kita turns to face you. In the low light, he’s softened at the edges, a watercolor being. His eyes are aglow, like sunlight pooling. He gives you a small smile. 
“What is it?”
“I’m so lucky to have you,” you say quietly, the words pouring from you like a waterfall, something unstoppable. 
He goes still for a breath, a statue of old. Then he softens again.
“You’ll always have me,” he says, and you used to hate how true it is. Now, though—now it feels different. Just a bit. 
“Thank you, Shinsuke,” you say. 
Something flickers over his face like heat lightning, too quick for you to comprehend. You think you might have disappointed him. 
You turn your gaze away. It lands on a picture frame placed face-down. You suck in a deep breath. Before you can stop them, the tears are burning behind your eyes, starting to trickle down your cheeks. You scrub at them with one hand.
“Sorry,” you say to Kita.
“S’alright,” he says. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you say, even as another tear trickles down to pool salty on your tongue.
He reaches out, his hand hovering in the space between the two of you. He waits.
You nod.
He cups your cheek and sweeps his thumb under your eye. His touch has the same aching tenderness of a fresh, swollen bruise. You lean into his palm, keeping your eyes on his, your cheeks hot as he smiles at you sadly. 
He wipes away the tears before pulling back. You can see the gleam of them on his thumb. 
“Thanks,” you say softly.
“Course.”
You scrub away the remains of the tears and then blow out a big breath. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”
Kita studies you for a moment. You don’t know what he sees in your face, but he nods, giving you a soft smile. “Sure.”
“Great,” you say, pushing to your feet. “You choose.”
“If you want,” he says, standing as well and heading towards the living room. “No complaining, though.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll be there in a minute,” you call after him, leaning down to turn off the kotatsu. You tuck the comforter in, tidying it up lightly. You nod to yourself. When you turn around, you pause for a moment, your gaze settling on the face-down picture frame.
It’s a photo you know well, one of you and Takao on the beach, the ocean a vast expanse behind you, glittering with the searing blue of the tropics. You’re caught mid-laugh as Takao plants a kiss on your cheek. It’s always been a favorite.
Before you leave the room, you stand the picture frame back up. 
***
You drop Kita off at the train station early the next day. You breathe him in as you hug him goodbye, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He tightens his grip around you with a little laugh. 
“I’ll come to the farm in spring,” you tell him. “I promise.” 
“Good.”
You wave goodbye as he enters the train station; he glances back right before he disappears through the doors. Something warm blooms in you. It settles in your stomach and flutters there.
When you’ve made it home, you pull out your phone. You settle onto the edge of the couch as it rings, your shoulders stiff. 
It rings until the voicemail clicks on and Takao’s voice floods your ears. You close your eyes as his voicemail message plays, letting his voice wash over you like a summer storm, a warm, sweet rain. You listen to Takao talk, relearning the cadence of his voice, the way it rises and falls, the way his tongue curls around words. You hadn’t realized how much of it you’d forgotten. 
“Hi,” you say when the tone beeps. “I miss you.”
You’re quiet for a moment; the line carries on, reflecting you breathing back to yourself.
“Shinsuke just left,” you say. “Aoshi—I think I like him. More than I ever thought I could. Is that alright?”
The line is silent.
“I didn’t mean to like him,” you say. “I really didn’t. But he’s good, Aoshi. He’s so good.” 
You sniffle.
“I don’t know what to do,” you murmur. “I don’t know how to leave you behind. But I think—I think he’s okay with that. I just—it feels like giving in. Like our choice, the one we made over and over again, was for nothing.” 
You take in a deep, steadying breath. 
“I know that’s not true. I know that our choice was for everything. That it never really was a choice in the first place, not for me.”
“I just—I really think I like him, Aoshi. Is that alright? Please tell me it’s alright.” 
The voicemail beeps; you’ve hit the end of the time you can record. You hang up and bury your face in your hands. 
“Fuck. Fuck!”
You lay back on the couch, rubbing at your eyes with the heels of your hands. You curl in on yourself. 
You grab your phone and dial again.
“Hi.”
“Natsumi.”
“Oh, shit, no nickname, that’s not a good sign.” 
“I think I like Shinsuke.” 
She pauses. “Is that a bad thing?” she asks gently. 
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
“It just—”
“Feels like giving in?”
“...Yeah. Was this always going to happen?” 
“Maybe,” she says. “But maybe not. You don’t have to be with him, you know. If you don’t want to, that is.” 
“I don’t know what I want.”
“I think you do,” she says gently.
“I don’t, Nat-chan.” 
“Okay. Okay. Let me put it this way: is your only issue with Kita the fact that he’s your soulmate?”
“He’s not Aoshi.”
“No one is going to be Aoshi. You know that.”
“I do.”
“Liking Kita isn’t giving up on Aoshi. It’s not leaving him behind. It’s just moving forward. You’ll bring him with you no matter what, no matter how far forward you move,” she says, and you bite at your bottom lip until you can taste blood.
“I don’t want to be with my soulmate just because they’re my soulmate.”
“Do you really think you might like Kita just because he’s your soulmate?”
“...No.” 
“It’s not bad to like him,” she says, not unkindly. “You’re not bad for liking him because of who he is.” 
“I don’t even know if I really like him.”
“Sweetheart,” Abe says, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you didn’t.” 
You go quiet. As her words settle in, you glance out the window. The snow on the ground is still pristine; it glimmers under the bleak winter sunlight. The neighborhood children are starting to stomp through it. They’re bundled up tight, practically waddling as they play. You take a deep breath.
“Maybe you’re right,” you say. 
“I don’t know how many times I have to say that I always am before you believe me.”
“You’re wrong way too much for me to believe that.” 
“Don’t be mean!”
You smile. “Thanks, Nat-chan,” you say softly.
“Any time,” she says. “You’ll figure it out.”
As you hang up, you know that you will. 
***
Winter melts into spring.
The snow gives way to crocuses, which bloom like bruises, deep purple with stamen peeking shyly out of the center. The trees come to life, budding quickly, little specks of green dotted along the branches like stars. 
And on the farm, there are ducklings, tiny and fluffy, their down pollen-yellow. 
“Oh, Shin,” you say as he hands you one, dropping it carefully into your hands. It peeps its protest before snuggling up in your palm like a tiny sun. “I love them.”
He chuckles softly, the sound low and rich. “I thought you might. Do you wanna name ‘em?”
“Really? You’ll let me?”
“Course.” 
“I’ll have to think of good ones,” you say. “Can I have a few days?”
“Take as much time as you need,” he says. “They’re not going anywhere.”
You nuzzle up against the one in your hand; it peeps again, as if grumbling at you. When you glance at Kita, he has a fond smile playing on his lips.
He takes you around on some of his other chores. There are seedlings in the garden, tiny little things just barely poking out of the ground, a promise of green growth. You water them carefully, wary of their thin, delicate stems.
Finally, you find yourself back in Kita’s genkan. Your boots—a pair of his, really, laced tightly to keep them on—are muddy, so you stop just inside the door. You’re leaning down to untie the boots when Kita kneels before you. 
“Shin…” you say and he glances back up at you with mischief in his smile. You decide it’s not worth it to try and stop him. 
He makes quick work of the laces with his deft fingers. You watch his bent head quietly, taking in the thunderstorm gray of it, edged with blackened clouds. You catch yourself before you run your fingers through it. 
“Up,” he says. You steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you step out of first boot; he wraps his hand around your wrist. 
It’s not long before both boots are off. Before you can even start to move, Kita has your house slippers in hand. He takes your ankle in his big hand, waiting for you to lift your foot so he can slip on the first slipper.
You almost balk. But he looks up at you with his keen amber eyes and you can’t help yourself. You lift your foot and he slides the slipper into place. He does the same thing with the second slipper. 
“Thanks,” you say, cheeks hot.
He nods. He pushes to his feet, a graceful ripple of motion, and tilts his head at you. “Lunch?” he asks. 
“Yeah,” you say. “That sounds good.” 
You cook together with ease. You know his kitchen by heart now, able to pull pans from their place without looking, knowing which of his fresh herbs to clip without double-checking with him. 
It makes something in you ache. 
Kita returns to the fields after lunch. You choose to not go with him, deciding instead to curl up on the engawa with a book. You settle into place with your book on your lap and stare out into the countryside. 
It’s just beginning to go green with the flooded paddies glinting in the sun, a false ocean. The water glimmers with movement as the breeze rolls over you. A stork prowls through the paddies, long and elegant, moving with slow precision. Its beak flashes as it darts down to snap up some little creature. It takes off after that, spreading its wings wide and soaring into the blue expanse of the sky. You watch until it’s no more than a dot in the vastness. 
You curl up and start reading and don’t notice when evening starts to fall. That’s where Kita finds you when he comes home from the fields. You hadn’t even noticed his truck trundling up the driveway. 
“Hi,” you say as he comes up on the engawa, marking your place and getting to your feet.
“Hi,” he replies. “Have you been here all afternoon?”
“How’d you know?”
“Just a guess.” 
You eye him, trying to figure out what’s given you away. Kita stays stoic, as if carved from stone, and you huff. 
You follow him inside, kicking off your outside shoes before he can even try to kneel, and hop up from the genkan. As usual he goes to shower, ready to rinse off the fields. You keep reading.
He comes padding back into the kitchen a while later with a towel wound around his neck. His hair is still damp and you can see a cowlick curling at the back of his head. His tan skin glistens. 
“Dinner?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you say. “What do you want to make?”
You discuss your options in front of the fridge, crowded in next to each other to see what he has. He’s still warm from the shower. You press closer to him and see him glance at you from the corner of his eye. He smiles, soft and sweet, and turns his attention back to the fridge. 
Eventually, you finally decide. Kita hands you a handful of carrots and you start to julienne them thinly, your knife—perfectly sharp, the most well-maintained kitchen knife you’ve ever seen—flashing in the light. 
He starts halving baby bok choy, little gems of green and white. The pan hisses when he drops them in, giving it a good toss before he moves on to his next task. 
“Is it really okay for me to be here during such a busy season?” you ask.
He glances at you. “I wouldn’t invite ya if it wasn’t a good time.” 
“True.”
“Besides, I told you there was always a place here for you, and I meant it.” 
Your cheeks heat. “I know.” 
“Good.”
Quiet falls, broken only by the sound of your knife against the board and the hiss of the pan as Kita stirs it again. It’s comfortable, though, and you feel no need to fill the air. The two of you cook away, moving around each other easily in his small kitchen, as if it’s a dance you’ve always known. 
It’s comforting in a way you’d almost forgotten.
You take a deep breath, your stomach churning a bit, and Kita glances over at you.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” you say. “Just tired.”
He smiles softly. “If you wanna go to bed early, I don’t mind.” 
“We’ll see,” you tell him. “Now finish up, I’m hungry.” 
He laughs, but the two of you are done cooking not long after. You settle down to eat. You tell him some ideas you’ve had to name the ducks (“Duck is a perfectly good name, Shin!” “If ya say so.”) and he tells you about his day. It’s peaceful. Easy. 
You’ve just finished eating when you reach out and cover Kita’s hand with your own. “Shin,” you say. “Thank you.”
“Fer what?”
You shrug, unable to put the jumble inside you into words.
He turns his hand over under yours and laces your fingers together. You don’t pull away.
“Yer always thankin’ me,” he says softly. “You don’t need to.” 
“I do, though.”
“You don’t.” 
You look at him. He meets your gaze easily, amber eyes gone whiskey-dark. He gives your hand a little squeeze. 
“You don’t need to thank me for anything,” he says.
You squeeze back. “I will, though.” 
He sighs but doesn’t argue. 
For another moment, you both sit there, hands intertwined. You watch each other. You can feel the strength in his fingers and the hint of sweat on his palm. It’s warm and solid and real. Something in your chest stirs. 
You’re the one that pulls back first, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Kita lets you go without a word. 
The rest of dinner is quiet; you both go to your rooms early, influenced by Kita’s schedule. You murmur a soft goodnight in the hallway. You can still hear him when you’re in the guest room, listening to him rustling around before it all goes silent.
You gaze out the guest room window, taking in the rising moon. It’s waxing, almost full-bellied with light, pouring over the fields. It reflects off the water of the flooded paddies, a distorted mirror of itself. Under the moonlight, the fields go silvery, delicate and gossamer as they start to come to life. It’s beautiful in a foreign way. 
You curl up on the bed with your book, texting Yoshikawa and Abe here and there as your phone lights up. When the moon is high in the sky, you finally get ready for bed. 
You fall asleep thinking about the weight of Kita’s hand in your own. 
***
Something shifts between you.
It’s slow like a dune in the wind, the sand taking on a new shape, but neither of you have mentioned it. Maybe you don’t need to. Maybe it’s all said in each fleeting glance, a language written in the amber of Kita’s gaze. 
The days pass in a flicker of quiet moments. You spend a morning naming the ducklings, tucked in close to Kita’s side so he can see which one you’re pointing to. You repeat yourself as he takes them in, his brow furrowed as he notes the name for each nearly-identical duckling. 
Some days you join him in the fields, kneeling down into the muck to sow a shoot into place. He guides you with careful hands, his warm fingers wrapped firmly around yours. You eat lunch in the bed of his truck, mud flaking off of your boots, and bask in the spring sun. 
It’s easy. It’s terrifying. 
You think of the taste of ozone, how it crackles on your tongue. The slow, sharp bite of it. 
You know something will give. That the storm will break over you and change everything in its path. 
You think you might finally be ready for it. 
***
You come awake with a jolt. 
The sheets stick to you, caught in the layer of sweat accumulating on you. You sit up and press a hand to your heart, thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings. 
Once you’ve regained your breath, you stumble over to the window and pull it open. The countryside breeze billows inside. It still carries the sharp bite of winter, but it’s mellowed under spring’s tender bloom. You close your eyes and let it flow over you. 
The breeze cools you, your sweat going tacky before it dries down completely. The dream rolls over you again and you shudder.
You find yourself padding down the hallway without realizing it. You stop just in front of the door. You tug at your lower lip with your teeth before taking a deep breath.
You knock gently on the door and then open it. 
“Shin?” you whisper.
The lump on the bed stirs. Kita pushes up onto his elbows. He’s bathed in moonlight, his hair haloed silver, the dark tips a moon’s eclipse. He’s bleary-eyed but he focuses on you instantly.
“You alright?” he asks.
“Bad dream.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
You hesitate. 
“That bad?”
You shake your head. “I just…can I lay with you for a bit? Is that okay?” you ask, heart in your throat. You need to know he’s still here. That he’s real. 
His eyes widen before they go soft. He pulls back the covers and scoots over to give you more room. You’re across the room in an instant, slipping onto the futon. It’s still warm with his body heat and you shiver, goosebumps dancing across your skin. 
You keep a small distance between you when you lay down, but you let your head turn towards him. He’s still up on one elbow, the muscles in his bicep bunched with it, and he’s studying you carefully. 
He’s handsome, you realize, not for the first time. He’s sleep-rumpled, his hair messy and ruffled and his shirt wrinkled and bunched up just enough to show off a silver of his paler belly. The moonlight plays over him like a lover, lingering on the arch of his cheekbones and the dusting of freckles sprayed over his nose. His thick lashes flutter as he blinks, showcasing eyes gone golden, and you almost sigh.
He lies back down when you don’t move. The space between the two of you is small but it feels massive, a gulf between your two bodies, separating the shores of you. 
“You okay?” he asks again.
You shake your head. 
He reaches out and hesitates halfway, his big hand hovering in the air. In the moonlight, the constellation of his scars is more visible, little nicks and cuts that gleam bone-white in the light. 
“Can I?” he asks.
Your nod is tiny; the sheets crinkle with it.
He cups your cheek. His palm is rough against your skin but he’s careful with it, touches you as if you’re made of glass. It’s almost reverent. He sweeps his thumb across the apple of your cheek.
“What did you dream of?” he breathes.
“You.”
“Me?”
“I couldn’t find you,” you murmur, leaning into his touch. “I looked and looked, but you weren’t there.”
“I’m here now.”
You hum.
“I’m here now,” he says again and it sounds like a promise.
“Yeah,” you say softly. “You are.” 
You shift on the futon. The sheets smell of him, of the faintest hint of the salt of his skin and his soap, and you close your eyes to let it envelop you. You nestle down into the pillow with a little yawn. 
“Go back to bed,” Kita murmurs, caressing your cheek with careful fingers. “You’ll be tired in the morning.”
You stir under his touch, opening one eye. He’s watching you, his amber eyes unbearably fond, and something in you pangs. You press closer to him; he radiates a gentle warmth and you relax into it.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask quietly. “Please?” 
You pretend to not hear the way his breath catches. 
“You sure?” he asks.
You press closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck.
“Yes.”
“You’re gonna regret it when my alarm goes off at dawn,” Kita says, a smile written in his sleep-rough voice. 
“I won’t,” you say. “Promise.”
He hums skeptically.
“Maybe you’ll regret it,” you whisper into the salt of his skin. “You might.”
He stills, and then he’s coaxing you up to look at him. His eyes gleam in the dim, a flash of amber, of the richness of the earth. He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. 
“No,” he says. “I could never regret you.”
He always hears what you can’t quite bring yourself to say. 
“Never?” 
He nudges his nose against yours.
“Never.”
His breath stirs against your lips, and you take it in, make it your own. You sway closer, undulating like kelp, half-dizzy with it, and then you sway closer still.
He waits for you.
(He always has.)
When you kiss him, it’s simple. It feels right. 
Kita sighs into it, one big hand coming up to cup your face, his rough palm reverent against your skin. There’s no urgency to him; he’s honey-slow with it, melting into you under the cover of night. 
You kiss him again, and again, like the tide against the shore, lapping at the edges of him until you’re etched into his skin. He meets you each time, sweet and steady. 
You kiss him until he is all you know, and then you kiss him once more. 
You don’t even realize that you’re crying until he sweeps his thumb over your cheekbone.
You part your lips, and he presses a little kiss against them before he pulls back. In the dim, his amber eyes have gone whiskey-dark, deep and heady. 
“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to explain.” 
You press your face into the warm crook of his neck again. He smells of plain soap and a lingering hint of citronella from the fields, sweet and stinging. You breathe him in, let the scent of him settle into you, a part of him to carry always. 
Kita curls a gentle arm around you. 
“Go to sleep,” he breathes, and you pull back to look at him. He watches you, his vulpine eyes unbearably fond, and he smiles against your lips when you kiss him again.
He cups your cheek and pulls you into a deeper kiss before he backs away. He sweeps his lips against yours in a chaste peck and says again, “Go to sleep.”
“Fine,” you murmur. You curl up into him as his breath starts to even out. You listen to the tide of it, the ebb and flow, a balm against a bruise you’ll always have, and close your eyes knowing that he’s right there.
You wake to the quiet beep of his alarm clock. He rises from bed with quicksilver ease, the thick muscles of his back rippling under his sleep shirt. It’s barely dawn; wan light filters in through the curtains like an azure sea, outlining him faintly as he moves around the room. He looks like something out of a painting, sketched out in broad strokes of soft shadows.
He looks too good to be true. 
“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs as you shift on the futon. His sheets are well-worn, the type of broken in that comes with years of use and careful care. “It’s early.”
Instead, you get up with him, slipping out from beneath the warmth of the comforter with a soft sigh. Kita gives you a little smile, a crescent moon tilt of his lips, and your cheeks heat. You glance away and hear him huff out a laugh.
He disappears into the bathroom, and you make up the futon, smoothing your hands over the wrinkles until they disappear. 
By the time he pads into the kitchen, the old coffeemaker is hissing and gurgling, spitting out a steady drip of liquid. He brushes by you to get a mug, his hand warm on your lower back as he sidles past. The heat of him lingers. 
The two of you eat breakfast in a comfortable silence. He slides his portion of your favorite onto your plate without a word; you push your share of pickled daikon into one of his small kobachi dishes. He says nothing,, but his lips quirk at the edges, the faintest hint of a sweet smile. 
He gets up when you’re both finished, pushing to his feet in one fluid movement. His muscles coil with it, going taut beneath his tanned skin. It’s more distracting than you thought it would be.
You peer at him from the corner of your eyes as he starts to clear the table. He moves with careful intent, his big hands steady against the delicate porcelain. 
You want to kiss him again.
Instead, you get to your feet and finish clearing the table, handing him dishes when he gestures for them. You wash the dishes together. Over the whisper of the running water, you talk about your upcoming day, trying to decide if you’ll be able to eat lunch together as well. You can’t quite keep the smile from your lips. 
When the dishes are put away, you walk with him onto the engawa. He cups your cheek, sweeping his thumb over the arch of your cheekbone, and smiles. 
“I’ll see you soon,” he says. 
“I’ll be here,” you say, soft and full of promise, and his eyes crinkle with his smile.
You watch from the engawa as he disappears into the distance, into the paddies, swallowed up by the verdant world he’s created with his own hands. He glances back at you once, just before he disappears from sight. 
You raise your face to the gentle warmth of the rising sun.
It’s a new day.
112 notes · View notes
pigeonpeach · 2 days
Text
My Heart Calls Your Name
Nilou x gn eremite reader part 3
Summary: The week had gone by faster than expected. Now you must depart back to the desert. Although you had spent years in the desert, it doesn’t feel the same
Little warning for alcohol
“Well I was wrong.” Clear Water proudly proclaimed seeing you walking towards her and the rest of the tribe. They turned mildly surprised but hid it quickly. “So. How was your vacation? Just what you needed?” Clear water asked. You nodded.
“It was nice. I’ve learned alot culinary wise.” You said with a smile.
“So you didn’t spend time with that dancer lady?” Your matriarch teased. “Say wheres your mask at?” You searched your bags finding it missing. You must’ve left it with Nilou..
“Oh crap.” You sighed. ClearWater sighed.
“We have extra, here.” Pulling it from one of the bags. You dawned it on, obscuring your vision slightly but still able to see. There was something in your heart. Like a flower stuck in a tiny pot, eager to grow beyond the clay walls. But you knew it was for the best. You would get over it someday.
“You didn’t answer my question little chef, what did you do while you were gone?” The Matriach asked once more.
“Ah, well I helped her theatre group and tried some foods. I have new recipes to try now so I say it was nice.” You answered. She noticed your hesitation.
“You’re okay right?” She asked shooing the rest. They left to probably recount supplies and feed the sumpter beast. But Clear Water still glanced at you occasionally.
“W-why wouldn’t I be?” You asked confused.
“Well You seem disappointed. Like you wanted to stay there.” She answered. You gulped.
“I mostly miss getting to sleep on a mattress mostly.” You dismissed. She seemed unconvinced.
“Hopefully you didn’t soften too much. Its good to see you again.” She patted you on the shoulder, sending you off to held load the sumpter beast’s cargo. Now alone with your thoughts you couldn’t help but feel like every step and movement was harder. The Ribat is familiar, you’ve come here more times than you could count on both hands and toes. This job is what you’ve held for years now with no other change until now. But something felt disheartening to know you may never see Nilou again, her theatre team, the various dads you befriended who were equally enthusiastic with cooking as you. You felt the unrealistic desire to run right back to the city and look for Nilou, profess your love and let that determine your destiny. But its too late now.
“Hey!” Clearwater said catching your attention.
“Oh sorry.” You said facing her.
“Its fine, I was just asking you what the deal with that dancer lady is.” She sighed carrying a bundle of peppers and radishes. You felt confused, your tribe hardly ever brought vegetables. “Oh and I wanted to show you some veggies we got. I figured you must’ve been tired of the meats so I wanted to give you some variety.” You nodded.
“Thanks. And her name is Nilou.”
“Nilou. Oh yeah you told me about her, you spent alot of time with her didn’t you?” She asked casually, adjusting the straps on the Beast. You focused your attentions on scratching behind its head to help it relax, it grumbled in thanks as it leaned closer, giving Clear Water a better chance to reach the one open flap that bothered her.
“Yeah. She was great. She was friends with so many people. Everywhere we went she’d get like discounts and freebies because she knew the owners. Even got me a nice inn room for a reduced price.” You smiled. “I got to try lots of other foods too. Padisarah Pudding was my favorite. Unfortunately those ingredients are harder for us to get and maintain so I won’t be able to cook it.”
“Sounds tasty. What was she like?”
“Lovely.. i-i mean her dancing was lovely. I helped her theatre group and had dinner with them lots, they were all so welcoming and nice. Nilou made sure I never overworked myself though. She even taught me to dance.” You smiled reminiscing.
“Really? So I’m guessing it didn’t work out?” She asked. You paused looking at her directly. You thought about denying it, but at this rate you knew it was true. It seemed like everyone knew anyways, there was no use in denying it.
“I- uh… never told her. I just… didn’t have the courage.” You said quietly. The sumpter beast grumbled wanting more scratches to which you obliged.
“You should’ve. You need too actually.” She said quieter as well. She picked up more bags to slide on-top of the beasts.
“Well I can’t anymore. She couldn’t come to see me off so unless I want to delay our leave I can’t tell her now.” You said.
“Send a letter. If you never tell her then you’ll always be wishing for her. At least if she rejects you then you’ll feel better about your decision here.” She said. She had a point. That idea seemed interesting actually.
“You know.. I’ll do that. Do you have a paper?” You asked. She smiled pulling out some.
“How do you do it?” You asked curiously. Nilou looked up. At you. She was adjusting the straps on her legs when she seemed to get a idea. You met up with her early, maybe too early. There’s no one else in the Theatre here yet, and few people in the area altogether.
“Ooh do you want to learn to dance?” She asked.
“Well maybe not completely.. I’m just a little curious” your posture stiffened.
“Well I could show you.” She smiled, by now you knew she was eager to do so. “I sometimes give lessons to kids, so I assure you I’ll be a good teacher.” You sighed.
“Alright.” You said. Steeping out onto the empty stage. All props were in storage currently. There was minimal people out now, they were more focused on setting their stalls up. You took a deep breath getting closer.
“Alright, lets start with some stretching exercises.” She said. “First lets touch our toes, you don’t have to reach it, just bend down and do your best.” Her voice was encouraging, you felt a little embarrassed in this position, but she was doing it with you, so you felt less silly. It felt strenuous but nice to stretch our your hamstrings. “Then you’re going to cross your arms like this.” She demonstrated by crossed her left arm across her body, pointed straight in the other way, her other harm pressed it closer to her chest. You followed, feeling the stretch, swapping hands as she did. “Alright lets start with something easy.”
Dancing with Nilou felt so natural. You watched her carefully and tried to mimic every step and even bend in her limbs, every turn and even her relaxed but neutral expression.
“You know, your friend isn’t too bad actually.” A sudden voice interrupted, causing you to seize up and almost fall if Nilou hadn’t caught your arm in time. It was just a friend of hers, the costumer for the theatre group.
“I know right. I feel like if we just changed their wardrobe they’d be perfect.” She smiled. You immediately stiffened.
“Eh its not worth it. I’m not that good too perform.” You immediately dismissed. They chuckled.
“Practice makes perfect. Enough time and you might become more admired than miss Nilou.” She teased. You felt a bit saddened.
“Oh well.. I don’t really have that time. I’m only on vacation after all.” You corrected. She seemed a bit embarrassed at that correction.
“Oh right, sorry I forgot. You just fit in so well I forgot you would be leaving soon.” She said. “Oh could you two help carry the costume rack up here? I can’t do it alone.”
“I’ll do it, you can keep practicing Nilou.” You said. Heading down the stairs to the costume rack. Nilou watched from afar. Her smile faded once your gaze was elsewhere.
“You’ve really gotten attached haven’t you?” The woman whispered to her. She nodded.
“I can’t help it. Keep it secret though, I don’t want to make them uncomfortable.” Nilou whispered. While you focused on steadying the rack with another member who came over.
“Tonight was our most successful performance yet!” The manager declared. The troupe applauded and cheered as they had stopped mid wrap up to enjoy the news. You meanwhile observed them, smiling as you were holding the ladder for someone currently. “This calls for celebration! Once we’re done here I’ll cover anyone’s tab at the tavern, just don’t go too crazy.” You felt intrigued. You hadn’t had any liquor or anything since your vacation started. Now might be a nice time to enjoy it. You also were curious to see what Nilou was like drunk.
“Sounds great!”
“Well lets get to work then!” Chatter began as people congratulated each other, Nilou mingling somewhere in the crowd while you helped the lady down.
“You’ve been a good help here. You should visit whenever you get the chance.” She smiled. “Of course if you ever want to retire from your current job then we’d be happy to welcome you aboard!” You were surprised at that. Slightly tempted to.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” You said. After helping her package things up you walked over to Nilou who seemed ecstatic. She had a bunch of flowers in her hands. Bouquets from fans and friends likely.
“Thank you so much for your help. I really can’t thank you enough. You’re heading to the tavern right? Maybe we could go together I hear the foods great I’ll even pay for dinner as thabks-“ she cut herself off as she blushed embarrassed. “Ah sorry! I didn’t mean to say that all so fast. I’d just been rehearsing it in my head for so long.” She sheepishly admitted as she slowed her breath. You felt confused but intrigued.
“I wouldn’t mind that no. How soon will you be heading there?” You asked.
“Soon, i just gotta give these flowers to everyone. Oh heres yours! A gift of gratitude!” She smiled as you took the bouquet. This was the first bouquet you had gotten ever. Genuinely you had never received flowers beforehand. You paused admiring the flowers as she anxiously analyzed your expression. You were lost in thought as you felt your heart swell even more than possible. You never felt this appreciated, this welcomed and this loved. You couldn’t stop the big smile on your face.
“Thank you.. so much Nilou. I-i really an glad I came here.” You stammered. Your reaction calmed her slightly.
“Your welcome. Oh I really should give the others their flowers, then we can head out!” She excitedly said, dashing off. You heard a chuckle from behind. You turned to see the costumer.
“You know, she doesn’t do this normally right?” She asked.
“She doesn’t?” You asked confused. She nodded in confirmation. “Then why would she?”
“Well she probably wanted a excuse to give you a bouquet. But you didn’t hear that from me.” She smiled cheekily as she walked away. You watched Nilou handing out the bouquets, the reactions were indeed a mix of surprise but confusion. This was indeed out of the normal. The idea that she went this far to give you this made you blush. You wished you had your mask on now to hide it.
That night at the tavern had been eventful. You had struggled to hear Nilou properly as she had a softer voice.
“This place is really noisy huh?” She said nervously.
“Do you not come here often?” You asked. “Taverns are always noisy at nights like this.”
“I figured. I guess you’re used to this kind of environment.” She played with her hair, you wondered if she was blushing or if it was just the early signs of drunkenness coming in.
“Definitely. Hopefully a fight doesn’t break out. That’s when things really get loud.” You commented. Another round of wine was passed to your table, the other adults chatting amongst themselves. You noticed none of them tried to chat with Nilou, you wondered if for a second they’d plan that so she could spend time with you. You also noticed nilou tried to mimic your pace at drinking. You really enjoyed the cocktail you had ordered. The sweetness of sunsettias and bitterness of wine was addictive. You felt more at ease. “You know this one time, this couple of eremite dudes got in a huge fight. Well we thought they were fighting, turns out it was a really weird make out session. I guess they were so drunk they forgot about basic decency. Anyways found out later that the other proposed that night. Think they’re still together.” Nilou seemed interested in that story, or she was just staring at your face.
“That’s wild. Do eremites fight alot when drunk?” She asked, her voice a little slurred. You smiled, the tensuon in your body had faded at this point.
“Certainly. We fight for fun sometimes when sober, but that’s like coordinated and not as extreme. You know it has rules like no making the other bleed and no weapons and such. Its just to help the two get stronger. But when they’re drunk its a problem. Friendly spars turn into vicious fights. Its not uncommon for eremites to get banned actually. We have to limit ourselves usually or the bartender may have us kicked out at the first sign of rowdy behavior.” You giggled.
“Wow. I rarely see fights here. Sometimes you see students getting into quarrels but that’s hardly entertaining.”
“Figured, its just a bunch of nerds arguing over formulas I bet.” You chuckled, she laughed along.
“Probably. Have you ever been hit on at a tavern before?” She asked. Even in your relaxed, not too drunk but still inebriated state did you feel surprised.
“Eh not much.” You shrugged. She seemed surprised.
“Really?! But you’re so pretty!” She said, her hands suddenly reaching out to hold your face. You felt your heart jump as she looked right into your eyes. You had never been called pretty before. “Or handsome..or beautiful.. you’re just attractive is what i mean! Like your eyes are so striking, it feels like a crime that you wear a mask to hide them!” She was definitely drunk now. But you knew drunk people were reflections of people’s true feelings and thoughts. That fact only made you even more flushed.
“Y-you think so? No one has ever called me that.” You responded, still not pushing her off of you. You wouldn’t let her go further than that. You weren’t a one night stand kind of person.
“Really? What is wrong with the people you’ve met!” She giggled, moving her hands she scooted closer to you and laid her head on your shoulder. “You’re perfect to me.”
“You think so?” You asked. If you were a dog your tail would be wagging, like a feral wolf that just learned how wonderful it felt to be petted and praised. Its like she was domesticating you, if you were sober you would fear getting too used to her sweet and affectionate personality, but you hardly could even remember what number your refill was at.
“I know so. You have such big muscles! Such a gentle temperament and not to mention how patient and hardworking you are.” She giggled. “Its not just the wine talking too, though I’m sure if it could talk it would agree with me.” You laughed at that joke.
The night had continued with laughter and random face touches and muscles squeezing from Nilou, your hands kept to yourself until you had to walk her home.
“You know the way back to your house right?” You asked, your hand supporting her by her waist as her hand was slung over your shoulders. You noticed a sudden boost of confidence in her eyes.
“Can I sleep at your place? I don’t want you to have to walk home alone afterwards.” She said. “Since you’re drunk too.. i don’t want anyone takin ‘vantage of you.”
“I only have one bed though.” You didn’t really mind, you were just nervous about things progressing from there. You weren’t ready for that and nor did you want it to be while drunk.
“Its okay I’ll sleep on the floor or something.” She smiled. You obliged eventually.
The door swung open as you now carried her, she had been too drunk to make it up the stairs. Holding her bridal style, you carried her to the bed. She giggle while playing with your hair.
“Its sooo soft.. i can’t believe it! How do you keep it so silky and smooth!” She said.
“Just some good ol oils and brushing.” You laid her down, tucking her in as you collected a few pillows and started to make a makeshift bed on the floor, dragging out your sleeping bag from your job and laying it out. “Alright now get to sleep. I’m sure you’ll be plenty of busy tomorrow-WOAH!” You were yanked into bed by a surprising strength coming from the drunken Nilou. The bed was small so she practically climbed ontop of you, laying her head on your chest as she smiled.
“Night night.” And like that she was out. Your face was all red for sure. But you couldn’t help but enjoy it slightly. You weren’t sure why Nilou was so touchy and affectionate. Love seemed like the obvious but least likely in your mind. Deep down, drunk or not, you found it hard to believe someone could love you. But her hands around you, gradually shifting to spooning, her holding you… you let yourself enjoy it knowing it’d likely be the last time you would feel this way.
That night you slept better than any drunken sleeps before.
The night in the desert felt different now. You were on guard as you watched the horizon and distance carefully. Nothing but foxes looking for lizards too hunt. You remembered suddenly how it felt to be held, to be the little spoon. How it felt to be loved and to love. You doubted she’d ever write back. You doubted you could ever show your face now that the letter was sent. You felt your chest tighten. A undoubtable longing inside for her. Your heart called her name, your exposed and scarred skin longed to be held and touched by her, your ears craved to hear her voice, and your eyes wished to see her smile once more. You were in love, how horrible. The sand felt like shards of metal now, the once familiar terrain seemed so bland and empty. But there was comfort in it, the familiarity of it. You wondered how soon you could return to the Ribat, and if you could catch sight of her once more…
But that letter.. you knew in your heart if you she reciprocated then… then what? Would you give up your life you had lived all these years, that you had been so accustomed to and raised for, all for her? Would it be worth it in the end? Would it be a mistake or the best decision in your life?
21 notes · View notes
justaghostingon · 1 year
Text
The Yiling Laozu’s Lost Spells part 2 AKA Chaos in Canon
 part 1 
Wei ying and mo xuanyu were originally planning to just run away, but alas, the Mo family plus the lans plus a freaky hand get in the way
Seriously, what was with that freaky hand? Mo Xuanyu’s used to working with weird stuff but nothing like that. Was that what normal cultivators deal with?
He tries to ask Wei Ying, but Wei ying is to busy freaking out over Hanguang-jun showing up, and what if he saw me???!
Mo xuanyu (excited to see his OTP happening): If you’re worried about looking your best, I can help with that.
Wei ying: I don’t want to look my best! I’m the fourth most handsome master! He’ll recognize me! I want you to make me look so different he’ll never guess it was me! Can you do that?
Mo Xuanyu, who both the soul of a theatre kid and literal years of petty frustrations to work out, was more than willing to take up the task. (But not too bad, he does want his OTP to reunite after all) Thus Wei Ying becomes his “Poor old senile grandpa.” Complete with artfully drawn wrinkles and a shawl for warmth.
Wei ying is having way to much fun pretending to be senile though, so Mo Xuanyu guesses he lost there. 
As they travel Mo Xuanyu asks him about the talismans. The Radishes, the release statements, the grass butterflies, he’s had literal years to study these talismans and he doesn't know how they work fully, he has questions. 
Wei ying is thrilled to see someone respects him for something other than his demonic cultivation or the sword path he can no longer follow. He is happy to tell him what he remembers, but its not much, he wrote most of them in a sleepy haze at 2 in the morning, and he kind of suspects Mo Xuanyu knows more than he does at this point.
Is Mo Xuanyu mad that his whole job is the result of a guy’s sleepy 2am ideas? A little. But at least the Yiling Patriach seems mostly interested in sticking around and helping him instead of going off to form his own cultivation path with all his fake-ass fans. Take that Xue Yang. They’re gonna do their own thing, and it’s gonna be awesome
Then they run into Jin Ling
Jin Ling does not take well to seeing his Uncle who one day was there, serving him tea with a peacock tail, and the next day was gone and everyone started calling an incestuous cut-sleeve. He didn’t even say goodbye!
 Wei ying does not take well to Jin ling not taking well, and proceeds to insult him. 
Mo xuanyu slaps a hand over his mouth and says to ignore his “poor senile grandpa”
Wei Ying: Yeah! Respect your elders kid!
Mo Xuanyu: shut up I am begging you
Wei Ying then tries to use a talisman to release little apple but grabs the wrong one
It was the peacock tail one
Mo Xuanyu tackles Wei ying
Jiang cheng comes into the scene to see his nephew and his nephew’s weird uncle have peacock tails, the latter of which is wrestling an old man under a donkey still caught up in the nets.
Jiang Cheng: ....Weird shit?
Jin Ling (nodding): weird shit
As if it couldn’t get any worse, Hanguang-jun appears to free Little Apple, and see Mo Xuanyu and “the old man” rolling around in the dirt.
There’s no way Mo Xuanyu can reveal to him who the old man is now, Not when he saw him rolling in the ground with the love of Hanguang-jun’s life. The assumptions he’ll make!
Mo Xuanyu: I”m taking my very old and totally senile grandpa back on the night hunt now! Bye!
Lan Sizuhi: A night hunt? With a senile elder? Are you sure you don’t want us to look after him until its over? We have Tea!
Mo Xuanyu (shoving Wei ying forward faster): NO thanks! We’re good!
They should have left right then, but they didn’t want to draw any suspicion. That was a mistake
“Did you make this?” Mo Xuanyu yells to Wei ying as they are running from the giant fairy statue.
“No! Why would you think I made it?” Wei ying yells back. “I don’t make every weird thing that happens to us!”
“Yes! Yes you are!”
The statue grabs Jin Ling, and to save him, MO Xuanyu pulls out his most dangerous talisman: the cooking one. 
Now the statue is trying to cook and use jin ling as an ingredient.
Wei ying summons Wen ning just as MO Xuanyu tries again.
Now Wen ning is hit with the cooking talisman. 
There’s a cook off, Wen Ning is winning. Wen Ning makes rock soup out of the statue. Wen Ning is now trying to force the juniors to eat it. The juniors are crying. So is Wen Ning.
Mo Xuanyu realizes one of the is going to have to hug the ghost general to make this stop. He is not doing it. Even if the ghost general is kinda hot for a corpse. He’s not risking getting fed rock soup.
Wei ying does it.
And jiang sheng comes in. Again.
Jiang Cheng: Wei WuXian! 
Mo Xuanyu: NO it was to release the spell I swear!
Jiang cheng whips Wei ying. Mo Xuanyu watches with baited breath, terrified he’ll have lost his friend before he even really got to know him. Hanguang-jun jumps in to Wei ying’s side but its to late, he’s hit. He goes down, But to the shock of all of them, Wei ying gets back up.
“You whipped me!” He says in his absolute worst old man voice. “Unfillital! No respect for your elders! Hitting old men who can’t defend themselves, what has this generation come too? Humph!”
Hanguang-Jun gently helps him to his feet, placing himself between Jiang cheng and wei ying. Wei ying blushes
“Oh now here’s a polite young man,” Wei ying leans into Lan zhan’s space. “And so handsome too! I could eat you up!”
Wei ying thinks he’s being that annoying type of elder who pinches your cheeks and makes lan zhan want to leave quicker. Mo xuanyu wishes Wei ying would stop flirting with his boyfriend before he gets them caught.
“Mark your words,” Goes Lan Zhan, sweeping up Wei ying in his arms.
Mo xuanyu wants to faint.
“why is Hanguang-jun taking that old man?” one of the juniors mutters
“It’s a cutsleeve thing!” MO xuanyu blurts out. “We like older men!” then winces at the very stupid excuse. 
“You would know.” goes the junior nastily. Mo Xuanyu wilts, remembering for the first time in a while what all these people think of him.
Jin ling proceeds to hit said junior in the back with his bow. No one insults his uncle but him. 
 “You’d better come with us,” Lan Sizuhi offers, slipping beside Mo Xuanyu. “You'll be a welcome guest at Cloud recesses, and you’ll want to be with your grandpa of course.”
“I’m allowed?” Mo Xuanyu asked, remembering that Lan Xichen was close to Jin Guangyao. He’d been certain they’d heard the rumors and didn’t want him anywhere near their precious pure cloud recesses. 
“Of course,” Lan Sizuhi smiles. “As if we’d ever ban the brave hero who saved Hanguang-jun and all those rabbits.”
“And the flowers,” Mo xuanyu reminds him, and follows. 
359 notes · View notes
definesanity · 1 year
Text
Live and Learn.
Being perfectly honest, you can actually just straight up forgive Nahida, and that's mostly from her, ironically, not knowing that you were The Creator.
The last time you met, she couldn't look at you without teats welling up. Venti was no better but, alas, you couldn't help but feel sorry for Nahida more.
Sorry, bard boy.
Whe you teleported, you expected a few things. Bob following you wasn't one of them.
"Still with me, little buddy?" you asked them, and they 'replied' via flapping their wings twice in quick succession.
"...I'm beginning to think that you can actually understand me." you flatly stated. You swore that Bob shrugged.
"...Eh, anyways, let's go see a radish."
Your journey upwards wasn't halted, but you're not sure if that was good thing. After all, the Akademiya scholars, much less the entirety of Teyvat, was still expecting Divine Punishment.
Finally, you entered the Sanctuary of Surasthana, and gazed on the meditating form of Buer, Lesser Lord Kusanali, Nahida, The Dendro Archon.
And, next to your eyes, Bob the Crystalfly.
"Excuse me, Lesser Lord Kusanali? Might I speak with you?"
Nahida's eyes shot open, and near enough tumbled out of her medication pod(?), scrambling up to look at you and your... buddy? Yeah, buddy, and quickly composed herself.
"H-Hello, Your Grace." she greeted, eyes still wide and, much to your dismay, still awaiting some form of torture. "What brings you h-here?"
"Firstly, this is an informal meeting, so relax. Secondly, I wanted to say one thing, and one thing only:"
Breathing in, and breathing out, you pointed at her. "You're fully forgiven."
"...H-Huh?" God of Wisdom she may be, this was not what she was expecting. "What do you mean, Your Grace?"
"Exactly that. My friend here," you gestured to Bob, "told me that I should visit the Nations to give out what I deem as a suitable punishment, or there lack-of. With you, who was kept in the dark whilst I ran from the rainforest into the desert, all I can say is, don't worry about it."
"But even still, I should have known--"
"Ab-ba-ba-ba-ba!" you quickly interrupted her. "None of that! You didn't. And that's that. Please, just this once; put away your thoughts on 'ifs' or 'buts'."
The God of Wisdom was hesitant. But, in the end, nodded. "Very well. I... will try. Thank you, for telling me this." she then nodded to Bob. "And thank you, too, little Dendro Crystalfly."
Bob seemed to nod back. Smiling, faced the exit. "I hope you can forgive me, but I have another Nation to visit. See you again soon!"
And with that, you and Bob left, leaving behind a surprised Nahida.
"A Crystalfly that knows human interaction? ...How strange..."
She then shrugged. "Ah, I'm probably overthinking it again."
With that, she returned to meditating.
107 notes · View notes
pocato · 1 year
Text
@raisans-art hello! I love your wing AU! Also I don't trust tumblr to send this via ask so I'm just gonna tag you!
So, after reading a bit about your ideas, I started thinking. How would Ingo fall to Hisui?
The answer decided to come as a fanfic!
Warning for mentions of wounds and well... hunting and all the things that come with that.
Cold. So cold. All around him.
Has the ground always been this white?
Where was he before?
The weight on his back shifts, but he quickly comands it to stop. Moving those hurts too much.
Everything hurts, So Much.
Who is he?
Before this all encompasing whiteness, was there something? A name? A memory? Someone else?
The cold seeps into his bones and chills his feathers to the core. He should move, keep warm in motion. He's too tired to do so.
Contemplating his last moments and seeing if he can reach the other life with at least a way to call himself, the figure falls unconsious.
A curious purple creature approachs it. It's not familiar with this one's scent. Must be an outsider. What is it doing wandering so far?
No matter, this being needs help, and giglar is too small to carry it. Luckily, a machoke is nearby with it's young, so with a promise of a challenge, the mother aids the fallen one to reach a safer place.
When he comes to, he finds himself nestled somewhere warm. He hurts less too. A memory flutters to the forefront of his mind. He grasp it with a desesperation he didn't believe himself capable of.
A man in white smiling, calling someone. Was it him?
Ingo!
He's not quite sure, but at least now he has a name for himself.
He decides to open his eyes, and finds himself far too close to a smiling blissey. How uncourt of him! He's sleeping on her pouch!
The sound of other pokemon rouse him fully. He's safe here, these kind creatures came to his aid. He would thank them all if his throat wasn't killing him. Best he can do is offer a tired coo and chirp.
This seems to be enough. He's glad.
After a bit of moving, he manages to stand, but it's quite obvious he shouldn't move too much. Blissey eggs can work wonders, but they don't heal humans that well...
How does he know that?
Not important right now. He needs fire, water and if possible, food. There's a bit of wood in this cave, so he just needs to ignite it and then search something that can hold snow to boil it.
Machoke decides to help, seeing that what he tries is also helpful for everyone inside. Gligar goes out, possibly to search for food. Hopefully it brings extra.
The little machop finds a bowl shapped thing seemingly made of metal between the other stuff that was near him. A pat on her head as a thank you is very well recieved.
Cave becoming cozier by the minute and snow slowly melting, is when he strips of his outer layers to help them dry, and curls his wings around himself. Moving them stills hurts, and the hiss he can't quite contain arouses the worry of his companions.
Timing is on his side and this is when gligar returns, bearing the spoils of her hunt. He's not quite sure how to prepare the meat for consumption, so he leaves that for later while he stabs berries to roast over the fire.
Once he (mostly) manages to skin the carcass, he prepares it to smoke it until cooked. A bit of weirdly crunchy salt will help it have extra flavor and also make it last longer.
Like that, surrounded by good company, is how he spends his first day in an unknown land.
Next time he wakes, the fire was out, his clothes dry and he had enough energy to try to find food by himself. He tries to take flight, but his body demans he stays on the ground.
His companion seem to have an idea of what he wants to do, so they follow him while he searchs for more wood, water and food.
He finds a few mostly dry and small logs, some weird radishes, more berries, a few chunks of salt, one or two mushrooms that seem safe for human consumption and other things that will hopefully help him. Coming back to the cave to leave his treasure, he's derailed by blissey who insist on going in a certain way.
They find themselves in a termal water lake. Oh! Blissey can boil he egg here and make it's healing more potent!
Apparently they're not the only ones interested, a few pokemon of all kind come near and blissey is more than happy to share.
Ingo feels good enought to strech out his wings, but it seems he needs another sesion before he can soar again. Grabbing his treasure, they make way back to camp. But they stop when gligar anouces the precense of another pokemon in front of the entrance.
An abra is floatting dangerously close to the ground, seems he was attacked, managed to flee but it was drained. Blissey wouldn't have more eggs until later. So he decides to approach. The small abra tries to use it psychic powers, but they're so weak right now, they only blur his vision a little.
When he manages to get close enough, the poor thing collapses on the snow. He cradles it within his arms and makes a cocoon with his wings then goes inside the cave to see if any of the food he found can be used as medicine.
Machop points towards a leek, and once he hands it over, they crush it and squezze it's juice over the wounds of the abra. He makes a pulp with oran and sitrus berries and slowly feeds his newest passenger.
Once they're treated, he lays them to rest against him and covers them with his wings. Blissey and machoke cuddle together to keep warm after starting the new fire. Machop and gligar both decide to joing him and lean against him while he takes part of the guest nest that blissey leaves for her patients.
He drift into dreamland looking at the fire, and for a moment, he swears he saw a flicker of purple.
The next day arrives and abra seems to be doing better! And as a matter of fact, so is he!
He manages to do small take offs, but he's still too tired for proper flight. In a pinch he can glide, but better leave it for emergencies. Safety first!
He decides to bring a bit more food to stock up and repay the pokemon's kindness. As much as he doesn't mind their company, he will, sonner or later, need to find people like him.
The leek trick machop showed him the other day came in handy, he uses the juices to preen his feathers and heal the bumps that hurt the most.
The direction they have choosen today guides them towards a temple, but it seems quite empty of human life. A huge... Braviary? (They're not suppoused to look like that, but how are they suppoused to look like in the first place? And how does he know what it is? His head hurts.) Looks down on them, but otherwise leaves them alone.
On the way back the earth starts shaking. Looking up almost gives him a heart attack. That's the biggest pokemon he has ever seen, wherever it's going, he's going to wait far away until he can fly, or make sure no one get's crushed.
Another day, another session of boiled egg, another night cuddling for warm. Time passes as he slowly heals and learns more and more about the place he ended up in. Sometimes he can't sleep, and goes to the entrance and hears the calls of the ghost that trive at night. He avoids exploring on his own, always some of his new agents go with him to keep in out of trouble, much too curious for his own good, their gazes seem to say, even if there's fondness hidden away in a exasperated frown.
Gligar and him take to the skies once blissey gives the ok, and he makes a few rounds of everywhere they been. On the distance, there's a mountain that reaches the heavens. The sky has not been unclouded since he arrived, and he's reluctant to break through and lose sight of everything for now.
His wariness pays off, there's smoke in the distance, far too clear to be a fire type. He get's very excited, and dives down to get a closer look. The night gives him cover with his darker plumage and black clothes, and he manages to make out a few humans making rounds near a settlement. Why aren't they flying? No matter, he leaves in search of his friends, he must thank them and bid them goodbye.
Only, the littlest ones in the group refuse to separate from him. Hm, he's not sure he can carry machop, (there's a device that allows him to carry pokemon easily, he's quite certain, but he has none with him, a shame) so he'll just fly slowler. He's about to depart when machoke holds him back. Right, is late. Better go in the morning and try to bring with him some of the stuff blissey won't need.
Morning paints the clouds a light grey and after they say goodbye, he makes way towards the settlement with new cars attached to his train.
(What's a train?)
Little machop runs ahead, but the guards of the place among the snow shout and draw spears towards his charge. That's not right.
A shout comes from the ground, in a language he's vaguely familiar with. For the first time, he realized he has almost completly comunicated with animalistic sounds. He really needs to talk to people again. But he's going down the wrong track. Focus!
The guards try to make machop go away, but they nick her little fist instead. She cries out in pain, and he growls.
He dives down in front of her, shielding her with his whole wingspan. Abra teleports right behind him, and gligar perches on his shoulder.
The people are afraid. And well, this is not the best first impresion, but they shouldn't harm a peaceful pokemon! He tries to communicate as such but, the language escapes him, only the most basic of words come to the forefront.
"No hurt friend."
That came louder than he expected, but he's not suprised. He's angry but he should control his volume. He learned some time ago how easily sound creates avalanches.
A muscular man, followed by an elder woman and a teen, break out of the group of terrified people. (Did he do something wrong? Their guards hurt an innocent creature!) They seem to be muttering a word that reminds him of zoroark and zorua, but also brings pain to his head, so he ignores it and tries to appear less hostile. Retracts his wings, but uses them to shield his friends. Passes a berry to machop to eat and heal, which he knows she appreciates.
"Stranger."
It seems that the others finally decided to adress him, so he gives them his full attention and his gaze zeroes on the teen, the one who spoke.
"What are you? What are you doing here?"
Either he misunderstood something, or they're quite rude. Still, after translating the best he can, he answers.
"Me, Ingo. And lost. Help?"
By the looks of the three who came foward, this is going to be a very tedious hassle.
Welp, that's it! Hope you like it! Drew inspiration from this twitter thread too:
Tumblr media
60 notes · View notes
gatheringbones · 1 year
Note
i thiiiiink my mom's oxtail soup (she doesn't use exact measurements) is 3-5 oxtail pieces, some ginger, carrots and daikon radishes, enough water to cover + simmering for 1-2 hours :) i think googling for variations on a chinese oxtail soup would yield good results if you like stronger soups, my mom's is very mild and the soup is mostly daikon flavored. we eat the oxtail meat by dipping it in a sauce of dark vinegar + soy sauce + a bit of sesame oil + a lil crushed garlic + a lil cilantro. sorry i don't have more details but i hope this helps! congrats on the new job btw and thanks for all your blogging, it's given me lots of writing and ways of thinking to explore and challenge myself with :)
!!! I can procure these things
39 notes · View notes
goldencorecrunches · 2 years
Text
"Oh, dear, you've got a little something…." 
Granny Wen's papery thumb swiped across Wen Ning's cheek, shaking gently from the hand tremors that always plagued her worse, at the end of the day like this. He knew these things from watching: dry skin, trembling fingers. He couldn't feel them. 
Since that night, with the thank-you dinner for Wei-gongzi, the others had let Wen Ning take over most of the cooking. It was a kindness he didn't deserve; one that didn't make sense, considering he didn't need to eat, and couldn't taste anything he cooked even if he did. But he liked it: sitting on the rim of the great fire pit, burying their two precious pots in the coals and turning thin slices of radish over in the cracked pan, carefully so they wouldn't burn. It was meditative, but it kept his mind from going away, like it did sometimes, when he would wake to find his sister tugging at him, face pale with worry, and find he'd been staring into the distance for the past three days as still and silent as—
Well.
And it made people happy. Killing the dangers that stalked them around the edges, the ones like him, didn't make them happy the way that food did, though it kept them safe and it meant he was useful so Wen Ning was glad to do it. Offering up a hot bowl of food, however, as ordinary and repetitive as the ingredients might be, never failed to earn him at least one clap on the shoulder, or a few weary smiles, from exhausted people hungry beyond natural endurance. 
It was a quiet type of pride, not like Wen Ning had wanted to win, before, when he'd been alive and too terrified to shoot in tournaments: but he'd always known he wasn't good enough for that, anyway. This he could do. He could give people full bowls, and keep them coming, until they ran out. And then he would feel terrible, but at least they understood that it wasn't his fault, and he tried even harder the next day to move more boulders and bones to make more ground to grow more food so he could help.
And the other thing was this: like Granny now. Before only A-Jie and Wei-gongzi had touched him (and little A-Yuan sometimes, when they'd let him). That wasn't so different from his life, except that– he never knew when something about how a hand met his dead flesh would make A-Jie bite her lip and turn away to cry, or when Wei-gongzi would go too bright-eyed and talk about all the pretty girls he would introduce Wen Ning to, when they came back to society, as if anyone would ever want Wen Ning like that, now. The other Wens had feared him: that at least he had understood.
Then he had started cooking. The fire pit was deep and wide, and full of ashes; Wen Ning was immune to the heat. He got dirty. A campful of elders, who had lost their grandsons and nephews, descended upon him with clicking tongues.
Granny Wen scrubbed his face. Uncle Two wove him a new pair of sandals, so he could save his big boots for the trek to town and wear something nicer at home, he called it. Uncle Four sat him down and with a razor that mostly wasn't rusted shaved away the few sideways whiskers Wen Ning had managed to grow before his death, there now you look like a proper young master. Auntie Seven stitched him a ribbon for his hair. When he came to her ashamed because his hands were too clumsy, she laughed so kindly and worked out all his tangles, one by one, with her fingers and then (which made Wen Ning want to cry, though he couldn't) the precious heatherwood comb her husband had given her, and tied his hair back for him like he was a child.
.
When he went back, he went to the fire pit, all cold now, but not lacking of ash. He stuck his hands in up to the wrist, and when they were filled with soot enough he smeared them over his face, and he pressed them in as hard as they would go. He still couldn't feel the touch.
115 notes · View notes
kookaburra1701 · 2 months
Note
🐈💛🍛 For our favourite orc <3
Thank you for the ask! From the emoji ask game here.
🐈CAT — does your oc prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close friends?
Khemor would say that he prefers a few close friends. There are many people who would look at the circle of people he is is friendly with and be surprised, or think that he is fooling himself. Because of his diplomatic skillset, Khemor does enjoy meeting new people and is very good at maintaining several circles of "friends," and you won't realize you weren't in his closest circle until you're let into the next tier. He'll send congratulations on your cousin's daughter's promotion to third flautist in the Solitude Children's Chamber Orchestra and remember your birthday and all your food sensitivities; make you feel like the most important and interesting person on Nirn when you're speaking to him...and most people never realize he hasn't told them anything about himself or his own thoughts, emotions, or vulnerabilities beyond surface pleasantries.
💛YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your oc speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any?
Khemor is quite the polyglot! His first language was likely some dialect of Osh Ornim, but as he was abandoned and taken in by a mage from a Crown family before he was five years old, he lost it quickly and grew up speaking Yoku at home, and Yoku and Cyrodiilic around Skaven. Like any well-educated mage, he can read, write, and speak Aldmeris, High Elvish, and Bretic fluently. He has knowledge of dead languages such as Ayleidoon and Dwemeris, though since he has risen high enough in the ranks of the College of Whispers to make free use of the scribes and scriptorium, he has become a little rusty. During his time in the Cynosure of the College of Whispers, he became familiar enough with "street" Ta'agra that he could mostly avoid being cheated by Khajiiti merchants that came over the border, but he will be first to admit that his accent is atrocious. In Skyrim, after being revealed to be the Dragonborn, he spent an entire winter with the Greybeards, learning Dovahzul. Now that it is becoming evident that he will not be able to return to his home in Cyrodiil, Khemor is also focusing on becoming fluent in Nordic to better be able to assimilate to Skyrim's culture. After Alduin's defeat, and Ulfric Stormcloak's victory, Khemor has devoted himself to shoring up the place of the newly liberated Skyrim in Tamriel's geopolitical landscape. This means quite a bit of diplomatic work with other independent nations like Hammerfell and Morrowind. Khemor keeps meaning to pick up Dunmeris, at least to be able to converse with House Redoran envoys and ambassadors in their own language, but because of his close association with Ulfric Stormcloak, there aren't many Dunmer in Windhelm who would go out of their way to help him practice.
🍛 CURRY AND RICE — what does your oc's typical dinner look like? do they usually eat dinner?
If left to his own devices, Khemor would definitely not usually eat dinner. He tends to get distracted and absorbed in his research and forgets to eat. Fortunately he has two housecarls who do a good job reminding him when it's dinnertime. Dinner at Hjerim is usually a simple affair, but with high quality food and cuts of meat as would befit a Thane. Barley bread is a staple, as it is easy to grow even in the harsh climate of Eastmarch, though fine white wheat flour is well within his means to acquire when it is available. Fish, either herring or salmon fresh from the docks, or whatever special Aval Atheron has at his butcher's stall in the market provide the bulk of the protein. Root vegetables such as beets, radishes, carrots, and turnips also regularly make an appearance, especially in skause or pottage. When he can get the beans imported from Hammerfell, he always has a small cup of coffee after dinner.
6 notes · View notes
okayto · 11 months
Text
On the topic of my garden, I realized I completely forgot that garlic scapes are a thing! (Only remembered when I was re-reading my garlic growing guide, and came across the part about hardnecks. haha) Since 3/4 of the garlic varieties I planted are hardnecks, they should send up scapes, so I went back to look again.
Tumblr media
My biggest garlic, the stuff on the gets-more-water side, have scapes forming! They’re not very big, so I’ll give them another week or so before harvesting—most of the hardnecks didn’t have scapes yet, or you could barely see them forming in the center of the stalk.
And here are my biggest plants, so you can see the size. Not all the garlic will get this big before I have to harvest, but these ones should bring me some nice big bulbs!
Tumblr media
Other stuff I’m growing: strawberries, lettuce, and potatoes (or strawbbies, lets, and potaten in my weird sibling dialect)!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I don’t usually have a lot of success with cool-weather crops (which lettuce is), thanks to a southern US climate that often has a very short spring (and y’know, ADHD time management issues) but it’s doing OK—I might harvest some soon to test! And I’m hoping the rabbit will enjoy it 🥰
Strawberries survived from last year (mostly, I lost a few plants during the great winter freeze) so I’m hoping some of the plants will put out runners so I can repopulate and hopefully get some berries before the heckin squirrels. (I started with like, two plants and the rest came from runners last year, so there might be hope, but I don’t know if plants put out runners every year).
Tumblr media
Potatoes! Potatoes! Excited for potatoes!!! I will need to add extra dirt soon so they can keep growing up. This is another plant that I’m hoping will survive the first part of summer, since I got them planted a bit late.
There are also radishes, but every picture I took just looked like a jumbled mass of big green leaves, so: imagine a jumbled mass of big green leaves. No, bigger than that. These leaves are as long as my rabbit. (Who, incidentally, will get to eat some.)
12 notes · View notes
subiysu-chan · 2 months
Text
Dark Fantasy portfolio project
So, the main country for the setting, I don't have a name for it yet.
It has four regions: North-West, South-West, North East and South East.
The North-West region has the province of the capital, or the Penbre province. It contails the capital city, an outpost and 11 farming villages supplying the capital with most of it's food. It is limited in the South by the great Cliff, to the West by the sea, in the North by the mount Fay and by the swamps in the East. It's primary crops are oats and rutapaga, while peas, shallots, radishes and cresses are grown as the main vegetables. Thyme is a popular condiment. It's most abundont fruits are rowan, virburnum, cranberries, hazel, cedar and bird cherry. It's only open boarder is the North, being closed at the south by shield plate and steep banks, by a swamp in the East and the sea in the West. Plenty of birch, pine, rowan and cedar cover the land, both wild and domesticated. Rowan is a favored gardened tree for it's small size and longivity.
Drinks are very seasonal: rowan tea or virburnum flavored eau-de-vie in the winter, fresh birch sap, young birch wine and early pine beer in early spring, beer in summer (be it oat or pine-based), mead or infusions, sometimes berry-wine. Cranberries might be added to other alcoholic bevrages to inhense flavors. Hazel and bird-cherry tea in fall. In swampier areas water cress and cattails are a favored plant in times of plenty and hardship alike.
Pork and mutton are the prefered meats, but crabs, crayfish, freshwater shellfish and pigeons are secondly the most consummed during the hot season. Duck and goose are also quite popular. Beef is rather rare, as cattle are too precious to break up the hard soil to be killed for meat. Horse, dog or cat are precious animals and if they are eaten, it is out of desperation. Birch leaves, inner bark and catkins are usually not eaten by the mainstream unless there is a famine, but is commonly cosmmed by the parias, especially the torturer and executioner guild, as it's considered a by-product of making torture instruments.
The main sources of fat are butter, cheese, hazelnuts, pig fat and duck fat.
Besides it's food, the region is well-known for it's textiles, mostly wool, occasionally hemp that is finely woven. Most fabrics are either brown, peach, yellow or pink thanks to the abundonce of birch trees, hazelnut husks and shallot barks. However, the capital also has access to other imported dyes such as cochenille, acorns, lichens, woad, indigo and more. Other luxury imports to the capital are barley, buckwheat, honey and coffee.
Besides textiles, the region's next greatest source of crafts are faïence and other ceramics of various qualities, producing particularly beautiful coffee cups and herbal tea jars.
Local monasteries also produce flavored cheeses from various animals, providing a nice diversity of diets. It's mount fay has an underground city of Pyroxene Drow as well as a fairy colony, probably of cranberry fairies. The Eastern Swamps are house to Fées des Houles living with nixes and low elves, fiercely protecting the central parts of these swamps. The region is also particularly haunted by various creatures and undead beings.
In Penbre, wheat, lentils and apples are considered luxury products, although in the cities, they are vastly more available.
2 notes · View notes