#Growing Bitter Melon

[taimio]

Tips for Successfully Growing Bitter Melon in Your Garden

Bitter melon is a popular garden vegetable with a reputation for being difficult to grow. It's an annual, which means it needs sunlight in order to grow. In fact, it doesn't do well in shady conditions, so try growing bitter melon where there is plenty of natural light. The plant has very strong spines and can be rough to the touch if you aren't careful. Since it's so thorny and prickly, you should also make sure that your garden border has enough space around the melon plants so that they don't get crowded down by their neighbors (also known as "carnivorous plants"). Bitter melon does best when it's grown in full sun. It will grow quickly and reach its largest size of about 4 feet in about 6 weeks after planting. You can expect the fruit to be about 1 ½ inch across and red or purple in color if you plant them during the summer months. If you're looking to grow your own bitter melons but aren't quite ready for the challenge yet, check out some tips on how to grow bitter melons from sources experienced with them.

How Do You Grow Bitter Melon?

Growing bitter melon may seem challenging, but with the right knowledge and care, you can enjoy a bountiful harvest of this unique vegetable. As someone who has experimented with growing bitter melon in my own garden, I have some tips to share.

First, choose a sunny spot in your garden with well-draining soil. Bitter melon plants thrive in warm temperatures, so make sure to plant them after the last frost has passed. I recommend starting with seeds, as bitter melon plants can be sensitive to transplanting.

Patience is key when growing bitter melon. The vines can take some time to establish themselves and start producing fruit, but the wait is worth it for the delicious and nutritious harvest.

Water your bitter melon plants regularly, keeping the soil consistently moist but not waterlogged. Mulching around the base of the plants can help retain moisture and suppress weeds. Pruning the vines can also encourage more fruit production and prevent overcrowding.

When it comes to pests and diseases, bitter melon plants can be susceptible to common garden pests like aphids and powdery mildew. Keep an eye out for any signs of infestation and treat them promptly using organic methods, such as neem oil or insecticidal soap.

Harvest your bitter melon when they are still young and tender, as older fruits can become too bitter to enjoy.

Use the harvested bitter melon in a variety of dishes, from stir-fries to curries and salads.

Save some seeds from your harvest to plant next season, ensuring a continuous supply of bitter melon in your garden.

By following these tips and techniques, you can successfully grow bitter melon in your own garden and enjoy the unique flavor and health benefits it has to offer. For more in-depth information on growing bitter melon, check out this comprehensive guide.

Learn more about gardening with Taim.io!

[oh-he-grows]

hello hello! hope you're doing well! :)))

a fun lil question: what's a plant in your garden that you're currently really proud of? mine are my zinnias and my outdoor begonias!! 🌿

my garden is really barebones at the moment heading into late summer, my peppers are still doing well but that's about it-

But this Bitter Melon I planted betwixt the zinnis is doing really well and I should be able to try it soon!

[wildrungarden]

5/5/24 ~ started some White Bitter Melon, Cowpeas & had an extra pot so added some Cosmos to the mix.

[gojonanami]

BEST PART OF MY DAY - KENTO NANAMI

✴︎ summary: on a bad day, you give nanami just what he needs, and remind him why you are truly the best part of his day. ✴︎ contents: pure domestic fluff, reader and nanami are married, taking care of nanami the way he deserves, making breakfast for nanami ✴︎ wc: 795

“What can I do?” you whisper, whisper in his ear, because you know Kento is having a bad day. You know that he’s having a bad day from the way his shoulders tense and his lips are in a tight line, instead of curled in that small smile. 

“Don’t,” he shakes his head simply, running his fingers through his hair, “I’m okay, sweetheart,” 

And you know that certainly means that he’s not. 

“Are you?” You sit beside him on the couch, one leg tucked under the other, curled up beside him, “because I’m pretty sure you’re not,” you place your chin on his shoulder, “come on, there must be something, even if it’s—“ 

And he’s pulling you into his arms, leaning back on the couch, your body beside him, as he buries his face in your chest, “baby,” you run your fingers through his hair, “is this—“ 

“You’re everything, do you know that, love?” His words are soft, but the impact is heavy, warmth flooding your body at his words, “just a few words from you, and I feel my fatigue melt away, how’s that possible?” 

“New jujutsu technique?” And he snorts, “should I tell Gojo?” 

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, leaning up to press a kiss to your lips, and you smile against his touch, tasting the hint of bitter coffee and the faint taste of melon bread on his lips, “how’re so perfect?” And he’s nosing the nape of your neck, pressing sweet kisses. 

“Well you deserve only the best, Nanami Kento, and what is better than me?” You say teasingly, and he chuckles, a quiet rumble that makes you nearly shiver. 

“Nothing I can think of,” and you’re running your fingers through his hair again and again, pressing sweet kisses to his brow, and his eyes are growing heavy, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to put me to sleep,” 

“Maybe I am, think my husband needs some sleep,” you kiss him softly, “dream about Malaysia, only a few months away,” 

“Not soon enough,” he murmurs, “but you’re all I need, my vacation,” 

You chuckle, pressing sweet kisses to his forehead, “Your 5 to 9?” 

“With no overtime,” he sighs, as you snort, before he’s looking up at you, “the best part of my day,” 

And he’s falling asleep, slipping into the sandman’s grasp, and he only wakes underneath a blanket, in the soft sheets of his bed, morning light streaming in. He blinks sleep from his eyes, a small groan in his throat, as he reaches beside him for you, but only finds an empty space. 

His breath catches — where were you? Panic grips him, until he listens — hearing the quiet sounds of pans and spoons clinking, the soft sounds of your humming, as he slowly settles back, easing himself back into bed for a moment, before slipping from bed. 

He comes out to find you only in one of the blue button ups you had “borrowed” from him - one of three you had on rotation, giving them back only when you had washed them. You were humming along to music playing softly on your phone, as you cooked — you had seemingly picked up his favorites from the bakery nearby and even were making some scrambled eggs for the both of you. 

How did he get so lucky? 

He sneaks up on you, his arms curling around your middle, as you jump slightly, before relaxing into his touch, “Kento, I didn’t wake you, did I?” And he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek — you smelt so good, like lavender, apples, freshly baked bread — “baby—“ 

“No, I just woke up when I didn’t feel you beside me,” he sighs into the nape of your neck, “did you stop by the bakery?” 

“Yes and I think the worker has a crush on you,” you chuckle, as he hears the click of the stove turning off, “she asked about you,” and you turn to face him, lips curled in a teasing smile, “you interested?” 

“No, I’m only interested in my wife,” he hums, finding your lips in a kiss, his lips curling, “my very beautiful wife,” 

“Oh, I’m beautiful? What else am I?” You tease, but then he’s tilting your chin up, lips pressing to your forehead first. 

“Lovely,” he murmurs, as his lips move to one cheek, and then the other, “honest,” lips finding your nose, “far too kind,” and then your lips again, “perfect,” 

“Kento…” and he’s kissing you in earnest now, his hand cupping your cheek, while his other arm curls around the small of your back, “shouldn’t we have breakfast?” 

And he only smiles, speaking before finding your lips again, “it can wait, I have to start my day with the best part of it, don’t I?” 

✴︎ a/n: i woke up to all the edits of nanami and i'm depressed to say the least. but it's okay he's in malaysia with us, right? denial, denial is my only option.

✴︎ taglist: @ethereal-softie, @glaceliy, @yumihisusupermacy

[m3l0nfl0at]

the greatest - s. gojo

gojo satoru x gn!reader ; gege give me that mf pen, ANGST ANGST, spoilers for the manga, mention of death, no y/n used, and reader is a little bit rude to shoko at first, 2.6k words

summary ; i wanted to write a more fulfilling ending for gojo because i feel he deserved it and gege i will never forgive you

melon’s recommended melody ; my love mine all mine - mitski

Waking up, hearing the chirps of life outside your window telling you it was a new day. Brushing the spot in bed next to you, only for it to feel empty and cold. Feeling the spot next to you became a habit that was hard to break. Getting up to brush your teeth, seeing the other toothbrush occupying the slot beside yours. Washing your face and feeling the chilly water hit your face. Heading to your living room, ironically it didn’t feel like it was lived in much. Opening the fridge not expecting much because you haven’t been to the groceries in, who knows how long? Sighing, not feeling hungry but knowing it wasn’t smart to leave yourself unsatiated. You go to the pantry seeing all kinds of sweets left untouched, you reach out to touch them but not grabbing one.

Feeling yourself tear up, you never had a sweet tooth and now thinking of something sweet made you sick to your stomach. How can you want something sweet when everything around you feels bitter? You felt nothing, saw no potential, you can’t even recall the last time you left the house. No drop of color, the world that was once made up of red and blue became black and white. You close the pantry wanting nothing more than retreat back to your bed for the rest of the day. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, pouring yourself some water. Drinking it, feeling the burn from the coldness hitting your dry scratchy throat.

Placing it down in the sink filled with glassware, not worrying too much about the piling dishes. Heading to the door, cracking it open just a bit to feel the sun heat up your freezing house. Stepping out to sit down on the porch stairs, hugging your knees. Looking around at your yard, glaring at reminders of what used to be. Your vegetable garden withered, planting those to joke around with Satoru. Reprimanding him, saying just because he was the strongest doesn’t mean he could eat nothing but sweets. You look at your flowers, specifically forget me nots, lining the house now lifeless and devoid of any color.

You march to the flowers angrily picking them up and stomping on the remaining garden. How dare they die, didn’t they know you were going through enough already? It’s not your fault that you couldn’t stop them from growing, it’s not your fault you had to wake up everyday to make sure they lived. It was selfish, it’s not like you wake up and someone makes sure that you’re alive. In fact no one reached out to you anymore, not Shoko, not Iljichi, and certainly not Utahime. You didn’t expect them to but for them to not even acknowledge Satoru’s body or death? To not even let you have a funeral for him.

You wonder if anyone even cared for him beyond his title, you knew Geto did. No one else cared for Gojo the way you and Suguru did. You don’t blame them for not checking up on you, Shoko hated confrontation, Iljichi was always scared of Gojo, and Utahime hated Gojo with her whole being. Part of you wanted to think he was finally at peace with his best friend. Knowing they were together brought you some sort of peace in this meaningless world. Another part of you wanted to scream, were you not enough for him to stay here. Were you not enough for him to win the fight and come back home to you.

Going back inside looking back at the mess you created in your front yard. The mess representing the muck that was going on in your head, ever since that day. That stupid day he went to battle the “King of Curses”, only for him to lose. Satoru was not the humblest person, you always told him that would be his downfall. Of course you thought Gojo was the strongest but your Satoru was still a vulnerable human. Slamming the door, attempting to run to your room. Only to trip on shoes at the front door, looking behind you to see Satoru’s loafers. The ones he would wear to teach, he loved teaching so much.

He wanted to be everything he hadn’t received as a student. Knowing that his teachers never really considered him to be a kid more like a mere prize. A prize saying I taught the strongest sorcerer and nothing more. His students and him were close but at the end of the day he was just their teacher, nothing more. Yuji and Yuta tried reaching out to you, coming to your house to knock only to be met with nothing. Yuji and Yuta admired Gojo, they knew what it meant to be the strongest. How being the strongest came with all kinds of burdens to bear or how being the strongest meant having people admire and hate you.

You feel your breathing getting heavy, you were never the strongest. You were known to always break down, being the crybaby of your family but you couldn’t help it. Yet, you haven’t cried since Satoru’s death was officially announced. You suddenly had no ounce of tears left in you, opting to just shut everyone out instead. Crying was stupid anyway, why would you cry? Crying wouldn’t bring him back, crying and screaming at the top of your lungs wouldn’t stop him.

Part of you wondered if he knew he was going to die, if he knew that he was going to lose against Mahoraga. Or better yet lose to Megumi, you knew Satoru didn’t have it in him to kill one of his students. If he couldn’t separate the two souls then that only left one option. However, the past can’t be dwelled on too much because it can never change, you slam your fists on the ground in agony. Feeling your ankle hurting but also feeling everything you had in you hurting too. Wanting nothing more than someone to pick you up off the ground, that someone being Satoru. Damn you Satoru, even in death he had an eerie way of sneaking back into your life.

It’s not like you wanted to forget about him, he was your entire life. You stayed awake some nights reminiscing on the future you both had planned, looking forward to getting married.

“You think when were married you’ll still have that dingy blindfold on?”, you laugh, messing with his hair. Satoru places a hand on his chest, gasping dramatically. “One, it’s not dingy. Second, obviously not. I’d probably choose something more stylish like sunglasses or maybe a tinted monocle.”, you groan in disgust. “You will absolutely not wear a monocle at our wedding. You’ll look like the monopoly man.”

You lay on the ground, soaking in the feeling of the pain from your ankle. Hearing a knock at your door, choosing to stay quiet not wanting anyone to see you in this state. “I know you’re in there you know, your garden wasn’t this ugly when I stopped by yesterday.”, you wince trying to pick yourself up. Funny how she chooses right now to finally show up, “Leave Shoko. I don’t need anything.”. She sighs knowing grief probably made you bitter, “Then why are you wincing? Open the door so I can fix whatever mess you got yourself in.”

“It’s open, let yourself in Leir.”, you lay against a wall preparing to let someone see you at your worst. “What happened?”, her clothes and breath smells like cigarettes, you wondered what got her back into the habit. “What didn’t happen, is what you should be asking.”, you roll your eyes. Shoko looks at your ankle, checking if it’s anything serious, chalking it up to only being a sprain. “I came because I have something to give you.”, you look over to her shaking your head. You didn’t think you could handle anything more than what you have on your mind right now. She hesitates, not wanting to upset you but also wanting to get everything off her mind. “I cleaned up his body. If you want to do a proper burial for him. Or if you just want to see him one last time, give you some closure you need.”, she hears your breath falter.

Knowing she’s pushing her limits, “Why would I host a burial when no one cared for him like I did.”, you angrily glare at her. You feel your breath quicken, it starts picking up as your thoughts become more rampant. She stays silent, feeling that if you have to spew your anger at anyone, she’ll let it be her. You look at your now swollen ankle, your messy house that no longer felt like a home, and messy kitchen. Wondering when this all happened, why did you let it get this bad?

Shoko hands you a letter, “I know you’re frustrated and even bitter with what Gojo’s decision was but he never stopped thinking about you even in his last moments. I know I've been an absentee friend but I cleaned him up because that was the only thing I could do. Send him to the afterlife being the Gojo you and I both knew.”, you feel all the pressure and pain that festered in you slowly crack. Knowing that even though you were painting everyone as the villain, the only true villain was fate and time.

Your lip quivers, apologizing to everyone in your head knowing they’re all suffering in their own way. You lift up the note, opening it up to see a messily drawn Satoru in the corner. Everything that’s been withheld these past couple of months finally breaks, looking to the top seeing the words “my love” printed. Taking a deep breath before proceeding. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop me from trying to defeat that cocky old bastard.”, you roll your eyes knowing how he hated Sukuna but still decided to fight him. “I sent my best students and Shoko to come check on you, can’t have you losing yourself over me, right?”, you choke on your own tears.

You stop reading halfway, scared to continue. Scared that if you continue, you’ll lose the last thing that has Satoru’s last traces on it. Shoko sits by you letting you rest your head on her shoulder. “He wanted you to read it. He gave one to Megumi and Nobara too, keep going for him.” Nodding, pacing your breaths scared you’ll start hyperventilating, “I know it’ll be lonely without my overbearing personality but I’m not gone. I’ll be watching over you or looking up at you, whichever you prefer.”, you laugh through the tears as you feel your bittersweet smile slowly appears on your face. “I know I left before I could fulfill my promise about our future but the ring I wanted to use is in my drawer hidden under my blindfolds. I knew you wouldn’t look there since they’re so dingy, right?”, your tears fall as you get up slowly.

Shoko gets up, reaching out to help you, as you start limping towards your room. Opening the dresser, scavenging for a box, looking in the corner to see a velvet box. Sobbing violently as you open it, seeing G.S. engraved into the inside of the band. Slipping it on before reading the rest of the note. “Living will feel harder with me gone because I know I would feel empty if I had to live without you. I want you to live, live and never forget me. You’ll surpass me in time and age but I'll be waiting for you no matter what, It’s not your time yet. When we meet again I will just be Satoru, not the strongest but only your Satoru. Make me proud, my love, till we meet again. P.S. Nows a good time to tell you, I finished all your chips, whoopsies!”. “I knew it.”, you laugh while crying. Shoko watches you feel the writing on the paper as if it was him.

Gently caressing the last thing he touched, the last words he engraved just for you to feel at ease. You lay against the bed, feeling everything within you give out, he’s actually gone. Shoko pats your back, letting you know she’s here. Even though she knows you only want Gojo right now, no one else even existed within this moment. People thought Satoru was selfish only caring about himself, when in reality he spent even his last moments scraping up letters to put others at ease with his decision, that was your Satoru.

“Will you show me him, one last time, please.” You look over at Shoko pleading. She nods, “I have to take you there to heal your ankle anyways”. You get up to get in her car to make it back to Jujutsu High. Fiddling with your ring the whole way there. Asking to see him on impulse, not even thinking about your appearance. Not really caring anyways, who do you have to impress? Shoko helps you out of the car, being cautious of your ankle.

She first treats your ankle, you slowly catch your breath. Anticipating seeing Satoru for the last time. Shoko guides you, “I cleaned him to the best of my ability. The stitches are kind of gruesome but it was a last minute call to action.”, you trace his face. Seeing the scar from his forehead, disgusted that the last resort was using Satoru as a weapon. You see your tears fall onto him, wiping them away. Shoko excuses herself, letting you have your last moments with him. “Satoru, you’re not in pain anymore, right?”, naively waiting for his answer. “You look so handsome my love, even in your last moments.”, crouching down to grab his hand. “I’ll never forget you as long as I live, Satoru Gojo.”, you kiss his cheek, feeling his cold skin on your lips.

“I’m so mad at you. I wish you could come back to life for just five minutes so I could reprimand you one final time.”, silence hanging in the air as you take in his appearance. Combing your fingers through his hair, “Damn it Satoru, why couldn’t you be selfish just this one time.” Even though he was in front of you lifeless like your flowers, a part of him still felt so alive. His love for you never died, not even beyond death, that was all you needed to live on. You let go of his hand, walking towards the door. Leaving the room, looking back at him one last time, “I love you Satoru, that’ll never change.”.

Even though living without Satoru was difficult, you felt him all around you. Going outside to water your beautiful garden varying with blue and white flowers. Going shopping and getting something sweet to commemorate his unbeatable sweet tooth. Teaching at Jujutsu High, to continue his legacy. Visiting his gravestone to tell him about your day, buying a meal for you and him. The pain never went away but you found comfort in it. His belongings were still placed in your home, never having the heart to put them away. You leave a spot open in your bed for him, touching his pillows softly before sleeping. Putting his shoes away neatly and even polishing them. Getting his mug to place it right next to yours in the morning, feeling comforted by the traces of himself he left behind. He was gone but he’s still existed within you, within his students, and within his legacy. He was loved and he would never be forgotten.

divider credit to @/vase-of-lilies, @/bunnysrph, and @/thecutestgrotto

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ melon's marginalia : honestly i needed to write this because i have to write fluff and i felt very devastated in leaks today. gege i will never forgive you for taking such a beloved character and dragging his name

@m3l0nfl0at on tumblr. All Rights Reserved. Do not steal, copy, or translate any of my works.

[kaixserzz]

eons adrift ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ wanderer x gn!reader

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🎐 ꒱ "i'll come and find you in every life celestia will give me." "that's not possible, you and i both know that." "watch me!"

 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ cw: character analysis-ish, mildly proofread, drabble but it's kinda messy, its more like an idea than a fic LOLLL im sorry, hurt/comfort

scaramouche took you for a naive fool, just as he was when oh so stupidly believed those words as kunikuzushi.

you are but a human. a mere breath of his everlasting eternity. a few hundreds of years and he would forget everything about you.

insignificant, you humans were.

frail.

vulnerable.

so so easy to break.

as he walked into the path of darkness; consuming him and turning him into someone he doesn't recognize in the mirror no longer—kabukimono, kunikuzushi, the love of your life, was long gone. memories like the leaves that turn yellow and crumble to ashes as winter approaches.

yet the winter will remain in his empty chest for as long as he walks teyvat. churning into a blizzard of ice cold pain, destroying everything around him as it grows. he continues to walk this wretched path he chose.

but then he met someone, rekindling the spark that was once there beneath his porcelain skin. trying to light up a burn out wick, to bring an end to his winter and bring forth the beautiful spring he was once.

scaramouche never thought he'd love again.

even after all through the pain he went from the doctor's experiments, after roaming the great expanse of the abyss, after becoming the balladeer, the 6th of the fatui harbingers, he still felt.

love.

happiness.

pain.

sorrow.

and regret.

he hates it, but he loves them, just as much as he loved you.

though he allowed someone new worm their way into his heart, he kept them in arm's reach. he cannot bear to be vulnerable to someone else. they were human, they were to die; he is a puppet, he is meant to live on forever.

but then he heard them say things only you would say. giving him lavender melons you bought off the market, accidentally calling him names only you would know.

he remember that promise you made him before you died.

"i'll come and find you in every life celestia will give me."

scaramouche did not understand what he felt when he realized that his new lover, was in fact, just a reincarnation of you. and just like that, your name burns back itself into his mind—a name he thought he had erased into obscurity, along with his past.

he was a fool, scaramouche thought. he laughed at himself, a laugh void of humor, nor joy.

it was your name, your first incarnation, just in a different language.

it appears that scaramouche didn't like this feeling. of bitter butterflies in his stomach, the familiarity when you try to get close to him, the same smile you had, the light full of love in your eyes—it was all too much for him.

so he left you in the snow of his ever growing blizzard. buried under the thick layers of freezing ice.

and again, to your next reincarnation. a fatui, a vendor, an adventurer, a knight, a scholar—male, female, neither, or all of them; tall, short, plump, slim, dark or light skinned,

he cannot bear to lose you just as he first did.

slipping by his fingers, to the one thing he is not affected by.

death.

he doesn't accept the fact that your love has led you back to him, again and again.

why do you even keep coming back? don't you know he's part of the fatui? don't you know what he has done? don't you know what he has become?

and yet you'd knock on his door, calling his name with your voice full of warmth, arms wide for him to take and allow himself to be called yours again—all he had to do was open the door.

he has kept a lock on it ever since he met you again.

worn down and rotten; chains all rusted, handle jammed and barely working. he approaches the door once again. this time, as wanderer. a better version of himself,

one that's finally willing to open the door to you.

but you weren't there anymore, waiting for him on the other side.

how could you? you were never there in the first place.

not with this version of himself.

not as the wanderer.

and maybe that was for the best. even though he cries himself to sleep at night for all the things he has done to you. weeping, as he curls onto the sheets, praying to the stars above in hopes you'd hear his heartbroken apologies, yearning for your love, your touch, your smiles—

this was his punishment for hurting you, for being a fool. he was underserving of your love, after all.

"hey, wanderer, was it?"

a new voice, someone unfamiliar. he refrained from sighing, for buer's sake, and instead took a deep, refreshing breath. he turns, and the stranger smiles brightly at him.

immediately, as if the winds of spring has hit him all so suddenly in the face. the fragrance of blooming flowers that was once buried under the snow, the sun shining brightly in the skies, and birds chirping symphonies.

like the mornings brimming with new found hope, the smell of dew sticking onto his clothes as he trace his fingers all over the a tree's trunk. like the the juices of a fruit he sank his teeth into, dribbling down the corners of his lips and down his arms.

warmth tingled on his skin, and his heart leaps.

"nice to meet you!" you say your name, a name he has heard hundreds of versions before, all so different and yet they all felt and tasted like honey dripping down his tongue. "i hope we get along."

"yeah," he says, almost breathless, as the tears begins to well in his eyes. his fingers tremble, and his smile grew wobbly. tipping his hat down to avoid your gaze, his voice cracks. "i hope so too."

his door was wide open, waiting for you come in.

you grin, and take a step inside.

 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

author's note: "i thought this was a dottore only blog? SHUT UP!!!!! SHUT UP!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹 IM MAD AT MYSELF TOO BUT THIS IS FOR @fatuismooches also new format because im too lazy to open my files :/ not back yet, i just wanna write this for the pookie 💗💗 ty for listening to me ramble like a madman ur single handedly gettin me thru it ong LMAOOO /lh

[merakiui]

Mother

yandere!kabukimono x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, pregnancy, implied codependency, brief mentions of murder/death, brief mention of childbirth note - recently i was inspired to write a kabukimono story, so i hope you can enjoy it!

i. the miracle of life.

There is a little human growing within you.

Kabukimono has never heard of such a phenomenon, but according to you it’s a normal facet of life for all creatures. He, who has only ever interacted with men, young and old, and the occasional grandmother, has never known the word pregnancy. It’s a complicated concept he struggles to parse at first—like that first sip of sake or the stickiness of a sweet. It’s something that leaves you pleasantly rounded like a ripe lavender melon, softens the skin on your bones, and allows you to grow into the kimono that was once two sizes too large. It’s something you speak of with overwhelming warmth, a fondness so enticing it’s almost tangible. It’s something the men at the furnace discuss with great pride and merriment, swapping stories of their beautiful, beloved wives and the tiny miracles that dwell within the womb, adoration painted upon weathered countenances. 

Miracles. Kabukimono has heard the word once or twice. Miracles, as he has come to learn, are wonderful things wrapped in silks. Newborns swathed in softness. Frail humans who manage to overcome illnesses that are said to snuff both body and soul with the excruciating passage of time. Sometimes a miracle is simple and not nearly as exciting as tales of heroes and villains or a mortal fight for recovery. Sometimes a miracle is waking up to begin another day. Sometimes it's torrential rain battering thirsty farmlands. Sometimes it’s a delicious meal prepared by a loving hand. 

If Kabukimono’s existence were to be defined as a miracle, it would be both a grandiose, gilded lie and bittersweet flattery all in one pretty package. Miracles are wanted, loved, and accepted. Disasters, curses, failures—however you wish to name the wandering puppet—are unwanted, despised, and abandoned. Kabukimono may not know every truth of this vast world, but this is one he’s understood from the moment he awoke in a lonesome pavilion. 

There is a little miracle growing within you. 

“Although they’re not very little now,” you remark, taking his cold, bloodless hands in your warm, blood-filled ones.

You guide them to your belly, secured snugly with a hara-obi, and he averts his gaze, if only to be respectful of the bare flesh you’ve put on display. The men at the furnace note he often stares at you; they’ve said it’s unbecoming of a young man to fix licentious eyes upon a maiden. Once, they joked of repentance for invasive gazes: A man who strays too far from his honor when a lady is involved shall gouge his eyes out and present them to her in hopes of earning forgiveness. Kabukimono, unable to comprehend the sarcasm or the laughter, procured a shard of shattered glass, raised it to his eye, and was promptly stopped by a very concerned Niwa. 

“Now listen here,” he had said, addressing the group of chuckling men, “it’s not very honorable to trick others.”

Kabukimono knows that there are two types of tricks: the painful kind and the painless kind. Betrayal falls under the painful category. Swapping his bitter tea for sake falls under the painless category (though he was not spared of the dizzying, disorienting effects or the subsequent hangover). Had he sliced his eyes from his skull, he wonders if he would have felt the sting, the agony, the fluid filling empty eye sockets—if such fluid even exists within his unique anatomy. Kabukimono is grateful for Niwa, for he often rescues him from painless tricks that may turn painful should he follow through with blind trust. 

And, had he truly lost his eyes that day, he never would have had the pleasure of looking at you like he does now. 

“Not very little…” he parrots, and he can practically feel the heartbeat from your miracle the moment his hands rest upon your belly. It shimmers in the candlelight, but that’s only because you’ve applied herbal oil meant to soothe weary muscles and prevent stretch marks. “How big will it become?”

You hum, idly trace patterns onto the tops of his hands, and say, “It’s difficult to approximate. Imagine…a very big lavender melon.”

Kabukimono can do that. He peers past you at the purple pile on the table, spoils from his last walk. He always returns with too many, but then pregnancy leaves you with a voracious appetite and sometimes you can eat more than one melon in one sitting. It’s very admirable, so he brings more each week and you never stop him. 

“That’s big,” he mumbles, awestruck, and he slides a hand across the width of your stomach. “How does it fit?”

“It’s a miracle.”

“Oh.” He leans closer, suspecting he feels movement from within, and he’s proven correct when something shifts under his palms. His eyes, blown so very, impossibly wide, flick up to yours. “It… It moved!”

“Of course,” you say, smiling, and your eyes are the prettiest gemstones in the moonlight. He could stare at them forever. “They kick and squirm often. This, too, is the sweetest miracle.”

“How so?”

“A restless baby means they are alive and well within.” You look like a statue of the gentlest goddess when you cradle your stomach. “It’s all I could ever hope for.”

Curiously, Kabukimono withdraws his hands and lifts the hem of his silks to view his own flat, porcelain stomach. He presses a palm against synthetic skin. It’s cold, but there is life crackling beneath his hand, just barely contained within the frame his mother personally sculpted. 

Mother. It’s another word he knows well, but he cannot seem to apply it to anyone other than his creator. But, as he has come to learn, a mother is meant to provide and protect. His mother is currently absent, so she cannot do those things. 

“You must have something you want.” 

Kabukimono lowers the fabric, cinches it tight, and peers at you. “Something I want?”

“Like a miracle of your own.”

“I am unable to conceive a miracle.”

You stare at him for a moment before laughing a quiet, melodious laugh. “It doesn’t have to be a child. It can be anything you want.”

His hands rise to his chest and he intends to admit his true wish—a heart and a place amongst humans—but instead he says, “I would like a mother for myself.”

“Do you not have a mother, Kabukimono?”

“I do… I did.” He shakes his head, finding that the admittance is too troublesome on his tongue. “I’m…unsure.”

You nod, your features softening with understanding. “Perhaps something else then?” Kabukimono reaches out to touch your belly, hesitates, and draws away, conflicted. You offer an encouraging smile. “You can touch. I don’t mind, and I don’t think the baby minds either.”

And so he does.

“I want to see your miracle when it’s brought into the world,” he whispers, speaking more to your baby than to you. “And I would like to know the miracle of life.”

As if in response, your little miracle kicks.

ii. the miracle of death. 

Your little miracle almost fell from the sky that envelops it.  

On the way to the furnace, a man bumped into you and you were sent stumbling on uneven ground. Kabukimono does not want to think of what could have happened if he hadn’t been a few steps behind—if he hadn’t rushed to your aid with a quickness rivaling lightning. He’d caught you in his arms and, noting the raw panic sullying such a friendly face, could only exhale a slow, relieved sigh. 

When you fell, you were holding your belly, shielding it as if it was worth more than your own life. When you fell, the man who had been the catalyst for this short-lived horror did not jump in to catch you. When you fell, you were a sliver away from tragedy. 

Kabukimono tastes red-hot anger in his throat, but he cannot understand where it’s coming from or why it consumes him entirely. But he must get it out of his system. It’s unpleasant and wrong and sordid. He doesn’t like it. Not at all.

And so, later that same day, he repays terror tenfold and leaves the man clinging to the strand he calls life.

“I won’t allow you to take my miracle away.” It’s spoken like a fact, shot through with syllables of deadly certainty. The sharpened tip of his blade prods at the man’s abdomen, a warning, a threat, and a promise all at once. For nearly taking a life, you shall pay for it with your own.

“Your mother?” the man had sputtered, terrified and confused, sticky with sweat and tears. 

Kabukimono does not let the man speak again, for the sword sinks into his stomach, and unease morphs into painful torment. To be certain the man won’t survive, Kabukimono twists the sword, sullies his hands in the process, and yanks it free with startling strength. Blood speckles a pristine canvas. It’s warm and wet.

He did not say mother. He did not. You’re a miracle. You are not his mother. You will be a mother to your miracle, not him because he isn’t a miracle. 

He did not say mother. 

Kabukimono finds himself sitting across from you now. There is a ghastly tear in crimson-spattered silks. You suspect the truth in the liquid staining his attire. Surely you must. But you keep your lips pursed and thread the needle through with expert fingers, humming as you work. Kabukimono sits primly, watching you with bright, indigo hues. You hum a melody he has never heard before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m uninjured.”

“I’m glad.” You snip the excess string away and tuck the needle into your sewing kit. “It’s fixed. I��m sorry if it looks a little awkward. I’m not the best at—”

“It’s perfect,” he insists, admiring the stitching as if it’s the most valuable thing in all of Teyvat. Irreplaceable, for no one could replicate your exact pattern, and that’s what makes it so special. 

“Would you like to talk about it?”

He’s quiet for all of two minutes before the silence shatters his resolve. “Your miracle…” He frowns, suddenly ashamed. “He almost hurt your miracle…”

“But he didn’t, and I have you to thank for that.” You hold your hands out, palms up, and add, “Your hands aren’t meant to break and destroy others. You were given these precious palms to embrace others, to protect others, to respect others.” 

Slowly, he places his hands in yours. His seem to weigh heavy like a grimy sin, yet somehow all it takes is a single touch from you and all of his filth is cleansed. His fingers curl around yours, entwining like vines.

“I will embrace others. I will protect others. I will respect others.”

You squeeze his hands reassuringly. “When you’re upset, rather than acting rashly, take a step back and sit with your feelings. If the unpleasant thing persists, come to me and we can discuss. But please don’t take your frustrations out on others. You weren’t made to hurt others.”

“Then if I was not made for destruction, what else could be the purpose for my creation?”

To that, you’re unable to produce a satisfactory reply. Instead, you pull one of your hands free, lick your thumb, lean towards him, and scrub the blood from his cheeks. He blinks at you, unaccustomed to such consideration. The men at the furnace often tease him for trailing after you like a lost, little duckling, seeking your approval and affection. Tonight, since the men are nowhere in sight, he thinks he can allow himself to be greedy without any admonishments from Niwa or Katsuragi. You sure do like that (Name), huh? the latter often muses, exchanging wary, furtive glances with Niwa, as if both are preparing to weather a calamity. 

Kabukimono always speaks the truth unless he must take care to conceal it. So when he tells them, I like her more than I like the world that surrounds me, he means it. Because without you there is no world.

“Thank you, Mother,” he murmurs, as if it’s a secret, a title not meant to be uttered by him. 

Oh, he said it again. He said mother. 

iii. the miracle of motherhood.

Kabukimono kneels at your bedside like an angel of death dressed in the purity of white. He watches you throughout the hour, listening to your cries, your groans, your hisses, while a grandmother assists below, whispering soothing consolations that somehow reach Kabukimono’s ears despite the shrill noises that fill the room. Kabukimono has learned she’s a granny who delivers life, so he puts his faith in her to take good care of you and your miracle.

The process is much longer than he anticipated. Though you’re covered in sweat and tears, your chest heaving, your hand searching for him in the midst of the commotion, you are the most beautiful miracle he has ever known. He closes his hand around yours and you squeeze so hard you might just tear his wrist from the joint. But it doesn’t hurt him, and he spends the afternoon at your side, watching the toll the miracle takes on your body.

He never blinks, burning the scene into his retinas. 

Some time later, you are holding your miracle in your arms, tears tracking down your cheeks in salty streaks. Kabukimono watches mother and child with wide, adoring eyes. After all this time, your miracle is finally here! You’re holding such a fragile human and there is love trickling from your lash line. Kabukimono wants to cry with you, but the tears won’t come. 

So instead he smiles. You seize his wrist and drag him down to where you rest, and the smile widens.

“Your miracle is leaking,” he observes, and you snort in amusement.

“Crying,” you correct, bumping your forehead with his. “She’s adorable, isn’t she?”

Kabukimono is inclined to agree, but your eyes are not on him. For the first time in the many months he’s been acquainted with you, he is not all you see. Somehow that saddens him, carves a hole into him, but he can’t mourn. He shouldn’t. He’s come to learn that the miracle of childbirth is an occasion worthy of celebration. He should be happy for you—and he is—but there is a pang in his chest. Something is not fitting where it should. Something is amiss.

“I think I’ll name her…Aika.”

“Is it common to give miracles names?”

“Of course. Everyone has a name, even you. We’re all given one the moment we’re born.”

Even me… 

Aika continues to cry and you rock her to and fro in your arms, shushing her with a song. She settles within minutes, lulled to sleep, and you follow shortly after. He refuses to leave your bedside, preferring to watch over you like a dutiful guard.

Kabukimono weighs his two warring wants: a name of his own, generously given by his mother, and you. In this very moment, you are attainable. A name, however, is not. But perhaps he can survive without one if it means you’ll accompany him through nameless wandering.

He’s only ever whole when he’s with you. 

iv. the miracle of rebirth. 

The Balladeer stands at an all-too-familiar doorstep. He has since swapped his pure linens for a shroud of darkness, and he’s taken on a new alias (he refuses to call it a name, for only you can grant him one). You haven’t changed in the many years that have since followed, for you are not fully human like him. Yet you veil yourself in the wonders of humanity, always empathetic in nature, tainted with weak emotions. You will never be human, but then neither will he and there is catharsis in similarity. The both of you stand on equal ground in that regard, or so you might have thought. 

He is better because he feels nothing, or so he believes. Perhaps, in the center of the labyrinth that is his mind, he recognizes his flaws and the fact that he is worse because you can accept the many aspects of humanity. 

Shrugging these irritations away, he composes himself, squares his shoulders, and knocks thrice. He could forego etiquette altogether, kick your door down, and force himself inside for the sake of a cruel surprise, but he refrains from doing so. He suspects your newest miracle might tumble from your sky if he shocks you and then you will never know the sweet cycle of motherhood again.

You know better than to ignore Death when he comes knocking. The door opens wide; there’s no need to crack it and peek through the thin sliver when you’re already aware of the person who awaits you on the other side. 

As he has observed over the course of many months, you do have another miracle, hidden under the softness of a floral-patterned kimono. He smiles at you, sharp and wicked under a blanket of stars, and spreads his arms for a hug.

“Mother,” he says in a sarcastic singsong, knowing it unnerves you terribly when it spills like sin from his lips. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Like an old habit, you welcome him in. Beyond your doorstep, the corpse of your most recent lover lies slumped and bloodied, decapitated and disemboweled, dragged so far there’s a vermilion trail marking the path. Sometimes you think these humans are not killed by The Balladeer but rather by the sheer ferocity of the hatred and anger he harbors. He’s always diligent with each of your lovers, swooping in the moment he catches their scents, like a predatory cat finely tuned for slaughter. 

He palms at your stomach, uncharacteristically gentle. “Aren’t you just full of miracles, Mother?”

There is a little human growing within you, and The Balladeer has made it his duty to bear witness to the birth of each one of your miracles.

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Holding On

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings Ship/Pairing: Haldir x Reader Trope: Best Friends to Lovers Note: Took advantage of the potentially invented elven tradition of gifting someone your most precious possession after your first kiss :D. Warnings: Angst/Miscommunication - damn you Haldir/Slight smut if you squint and zoom at the very end. Word count: 2 836 Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

The gentle breeze brought a soft tune to your ears. Of course, he would be playing in the first hours of the night. What else could he do, before leaving for another long month of patrol? Certainly not seek you out. The bitter lingered.

Haldir was a dear and close friend of yours. He had drawn you in with his cheekiness and teasing words. You were lucky enough to know those sides of him, usually hidden. Unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of those same unruly sides, sometimes. It felt harder and harder with each joust of words to stop the ones you wanted to say from blurting out of your mouth. Today was about fixing that. Upon walking the narrow path, your eyes met his silhouette before he could see you. The length of his hair covered his face. His bow and arrows were left in the grass, carefully propped against a branch. His head rose, and he finally saw you. A flutter of wings came to life in your stomach. He smiled at you.

“What are you doing out this early, melon?”

You had no good answer for that. Knowing he was leaving was one thing. Seeing him do so, even in your dreams, was another. Every departure was a torment for you.

Your lips curled sadly with your next words.

“Why did you not say goodbye, Haldir?”

The underlying harshness of your tone startled him. He paled, his eyes growing wide. He did not expect that. Not from you. You who were gentle and kind. Soft-spoken and careful in all manners of life. He never wanted to disappoint you. Nor hurt you. After your first encounter, he knew very quickly your presence could never be replaced by anyone else. When he identified those feelings as more than friendship, he snuffed them out. The mere thought of losing you because of them was unbearable. Deep down, he knew you would not leave him so. Yet, he feared it all the same and kept himself quiet.

“I thought I did. What is happening to you?”

A heavy sigh. Again, your emotions had got the better of you. The loneliness he left behind was a most cruel sentiment to have. Or to hold on to. His hands had stopped playing, and he laid the instrument next to him.

“I am sorry. I fear my future loneliness at your departure is haunting me in advance.”

Haldir chuckled weakly. You always did have a way with words. Even more so since becoming a script here in the palace. Where he was the one leaving, you were always the one staying. It tore his heart in two to see you afflicted so. The Marchwarden did not know what to do to alleviate the sadness in your eyes. You stepped forward until he had to raise his head to look at you. Soon, you sat down in front of him. An itch went through him from his fingertips to his shoulder blade; how he wanted to touch you right now…

“And you woke up this early because of it? Have I altered your sleeping by my rudeness? — Do not flatter yourself that much, Haldir.”

Finally, a smile had made its way onto your face. You reckoned that being mad at him was not your best skill. Unwavering, he stared at you expectantly, wishing you would answer and share your troubles with him, as you always did. This time proved harder than the other ones.

“I have made a decision.”

His eyebrows rose.

“What kind of decision? — About… us.”

His heart skipped a beat, and his breath shortened. He frowned even more, at a loss for words.

“We have been friends for a long and appreciable time. — Yes, we have. — Please do not interrupt me, it is already so hard to do…”

You bit on your lip, your courage leaving as water out of its bed. His stare became more present, his fingers tapping an invisible rhythm against the earth. Could this be it? Or had he been a fool this whole time?

“As a token of my appreciation, I want you to have this.”

Out of your hand, a piece of paper neatly folded — just as you knew how to. He had had those notes before. When you wanted to see him but could not fetch him yourself. Or when you wanted to say anything to him while he was on patrol. He took the piece of paper, seemingly heavier than the lasts. It seemed to contain something. Before he could pry it open, you stopped him.

“I also want you to wait until you are at your post.”

He looked at you as if you had grown a second head.

“Humour me. — Oh, I will.”

You laughed with him this time, inclining your head on one side. He found it entirely too endearing.

“I will, I promise. — Thank you.”

The letter clutched in his hand, he found himself speechless again.

A loud sound announced his departure. A few of his comrades passed you by. They soon waited by the end of the path for him to follow.

“Goodbye, my friend.”

While saying the words, he grabbed what was his, placing your letter in an inside pocket close to his heart. You noticed. You smiled as brightly as you could.

“Safe travels, my friend.”

He smiled brightly back, always one to try to cheer you up. Before you could register what he had done, he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles. His steps were barely echoing around you anymore when you realised. The flutter in your stomach turned into a full storm.

*

The advanced post took them three whole days to reach. During those three days, Haldir could not help himself from touching and toying with the piece of paper you left him with. He was patient; you knew that. When it came to you, he could have waited another lifetime. Yet, this simple piece of paper and what it contained, almost weightless, made him more impatient and frustrated than the longest watch had ever done.

Finally, he reached his destination, and they relieved the others from their patrol. He waited the middle of the night to be alone and open the gift you had left him with. The paper unfolded easily enough. It almost toppled the thin ring left inside. The details were weaved around it, organised in rows of leaves and polished silver. It could not have belonged to you. The size was too big, and the ornaments were indicative of a skilled touch. He held the jewel in his palm for the longest time, almost losing track of what he was supposed to watch out for. Luckily, his brother had joined him and kept an extra eye out when he saw him entranced by what an object he could not see. Rúmil only hoped it would be a good thing. And made a mental note to ask about it later on.

On the paper, read the following.

“Dear friend,

I have known you for the longest time. I have cared for you for just as long. In truth, I have more than cared for you. My friendship was soon turned into affections and my affections turned into love. True unbearable, unbreakable love. This seems sudden, I know, and if you do not feel the same, I wish you would forget all about this affair and we will go back to the way things were. I promise not to bring it up again. In my heart, I know that no matter what, I will always be by your side. I believe you know in our tradition, a first show of affection is to be rewarded by that which is most precious to us. With the ring, I hope to offer a payment in advance. You see, this belonged to my father. Before him, my grandfather and before him, my great grandfather. It has seen better times. I hope it will see better times. He passed it onto me, as his only child. It is my most precious and meaningful possession. I want you to have it, for if you feel the way I do, there is no other way forward but to spend the rest of my life with you.

You have known me to be meek, but when I am with you, I become brave. I want to be brave with you.

Again, if you do not wish for me in those ways, I will understand. That ring, nevertheless, shall always be yours, for I will never love anyone else.

With love, Your friend.”

Haldir’s breath stopped. The shock must have shown on his face, for the comrade next to him shook his shoulder in the hopes of waking him up from his reverie. A wide smile had spread across his face, his heart beating anew.

“Are you alright? — I am. Now go back to your posts, please.”

Never before had he said please when giving orders. They figured this letter must have broken his skull, for he spent the rest of the month whistling and daydreaming, spending more time alone than with them. The oldest knew. The youngest were still asking questions. When they received no answers, they settled for quiet speculations.

None of them could have figured out what was happening in Haldir’s head the whole time.

*

You waited for an answer.

It never came.

Your days were spent writing and copying the history of your people, under a strict supervision. Celeborn would have no mistake be made, whereas Galadriel encouraged you in more positive ways. They were nervous, for those scrolls were to be sent to other countries for archiving. They were a testimony and inheritance of your people’s knowledge and myths. No room for errors.

Alas, you were distracted. On the first week, you were wondering if anything had happened to Haldir during his trip to his post. Then, news came that his group had safely arrived. The second week, you convinced yourself he did not return your attachment and cried yourself to sleep every night. It was cruel, but you had expected it. After all, he was a Marchwarden and you were a mere scribe. The third one, right before he was supposed to come back, you willed yourself to go back to the way it was. He was probably giving you the space to mourn and grieve for what would never be. You had to let things go, eventually.

On the day he did come back, Haldir made no specific announcement to you, nor did he arrive during daylight. Rúmil had warned him about showing up at this hour, himself having gone directly to bed. Of course, he did not listen to his brother. Especially when he was teasing him about the love-struck face, he had a hard time hiding, all the way back home. The first thing he did was seek you out. Despite his restlessness, the odd hour triumphed over him, and he could not find you anywhere. Straight away, he went to your room, which for this hour should not have been this cold, nor this lifeless. Your bed was undone, it was obvious you had trashed around in it, the sheets left in disarray. Your work clothes were scattered around the floor. The windows were open, a faint trace of flowers in the air. He did not recognise this to be you. His worry only grew when he found inks and quills, papers thrown about on the desk. All of them with his name, some angry, others drowned in tears. The library was empty, your usual meeting point by the pond too. No guard could tell him where you had gone. He almost snapped his bow under the pressure of his hands. A quick detour to his room and he dropped off his bags and weapon. It was his fault. All of it. Not knowing what you wanted him to do, he had tried to write letters, never sending them out. It was all his fault for not telling you, even in unwisely chosen words, how he truly felt. What an actual idiot he had been. Only then did he realise where you must have been and ran.

The scribes had all left their working space. And here you were, hunched over and scrapping paper after paper, in your usual measured manners. He halted his steps. From where he was, he could not see your face, nor your hands, yet he was sure they were covered in ink stains and sore from having been overused. His feet reached you rapidly. You were about to cry out when you turned around.

Haldir had been right. You were wearing a wrinkled nightdress, clinging onto your skin with the sweat, your eyes haggard, hands covered in small ink stains. You probably had touched your face too, for it had several spots of ink there too. One by your left eye, over your eyelid. Another on your cheek, spread in a wild sprawl. The last ones on both your temples, where you must have tried to erase a headache.

As well as tears. So much tears growing in your eyes dying on your lips, nesting in your throat, making your skin damp when he reached for your face. How could he had let this happen?

“Why are you here? — I love you.”

He figured that in the state you were in, brutality was the swiftest way of ripping this sadness away. He did not think far enough to predict the anger that would follow.

“And you’re only telling me now!”

You wanted to hit him. Badly. Even tried to slap him. If it were not for his stupid reflexes, you might have done so. He would have let you, if the need to embrace you had not been so overwhelming. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before securing his arms around you. You relented, too tired to fight with him. Without warning, he picked you up a hand under your knees and the other on your back. Your hands secured against his neck as he carried you out. Haldir did not bother looking out for onlookers. They would have no answer from him anyway, too focused as he was on seeing your face for the first time in a month. It was lucky this mission had been this short, otherwise… He did not want to imagine otherwise. Your room was the closest, and he reached it first, settling you in bed. You were the one to stop him. Those pleading eyes he could not resist, and a need to rest his bones close to the person he wanted to be with. He laid down with you, and you fell asleep safe and sound in his arms.

* The next morning, he woke up with a back pain, in the bed only made for one. You were nowhere in sight. He sighed. Maybe you had gone to wash and would come back soon. He waited a little while before deciding he probably had the time to wash and change too until you arrived. As he had been previously, he was wrong.

When you came back an hour later — the ink had washed away with difficulty and you needed clean clothes — your room was empty. No traces left behind. Frustration took root within you. Where could he be? Showing up in the middle of the night, no notes, no nothing announcing his return. Not directly from him, at least. You had hoped for a letter or a missive. Something, anything.

He did not have another mission yet, as far as you knew. The only logical places he could be were the bathhouse or his chambers. You chose the latter. You stomped into his bedroom with no warning.

“You did not say goodbye, Haldir.”

A chill ran down his spine. His undressed state did not seem to phase you. But then again, he thought he was the only one in love in this relationship and it had proved wrong. Deciding against his first instincts, he put a light shirt on and walked to you. You wanted to slap the smirk off of his face. Just as much as you wanted to take that shirt off of him right this instant.

“No, you did not this time. — I did not?! How… — Please…”

This time, he was the one pleading for mercy. You were looking precious, like this. A nymph or a divine being, freshly out of the water, droplets dragging against your skin. Haldir’s thumb touched your lips lightly, plump and warm against his fingertips. Your breath shortened, anger drowned by him. By his arm around your waist, by his breath fanning over your cheek, his hair caressing your collarbones, your throat, firm hands mapping your back. The fire within you could not be stopped this time.

“If you start this… — I know.”

His lips touched yours, and the world was ablaze. He brought your legs against his hips. You could feel his desire against your core. Never before had you willingly surrendered to your feelings like this.

You felt the edge of a silver ring you knew by heart around his finger. You bit your lips hard and kissed him again, even harder.

There was no letting go now.

Only holding on.

[konjaku]

冬瓜[Tōgan] Benincasa pruriens f. hispida

It is native to India and is said to have been introduced via China around the Asuka period(593-710). The flower is large, more than ten centimeters in diameter, and the long, spherical fruit is also large, some of the larger ones are eighty centimeters long and weigh more than ten kilograms.

冬[Fuyu|Tō] means winter, 瓜[Uri|Ka] means melon or gourd. 瓜 is not read as gan when it is written in a single kanji. Such a reading is a corrupution or a kind of 当て字[Ateji], called 熟字訓[Jukuji-kun]. The same goes for 昨日[Kinō](Yesterday), 今日[Kyō](Today), 明日(Asu or ashita), etc. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kanji#Special_readings

瓜 is mostly read in the normal way, such as 苦瓜[Nigauri](Bitter melon), 烏瓜[Karasuuri](Japanese snake gourd; lit. Crow melon), etc., but some have special readings, 南瓜[Kabocha](Pumpkin; lit. melon of the south), 木瓜[Boke](Japanese quince; lit. melon that grows on a tree), etc.

瓢[Hisago](Gourd or calabash) is also in the gourd family, Cucurbitaceae, and the kanji has 瓜 inside. The origin of the kanji 狐[Kitsune](Fox) is the image of an animal shaped like a gourd(��). 犭(獣偏)[Kemono-hen] means the animal radical at left. Incidentally, 爪[Tsume](nail or claw) is not 瓜.

[rayshippouuchiha]

I can’t stop thinking about the kinda shit the people of Uzushiogakure would eat, though? Their cuisine, their food traditions, etc… Obviously a lot of seafood (likely both raw and cooked alike), and given how connected they are to the sea, and with the idea of them Needing more salt than others, I could see a popular tea for them being konbu-cha (kelp infused in hot water and sometimes salt, a rather savory and apparently salty tea!), but what about specifics?

Obviously they’d probably eat a lot of sushi and sashimi, but what kind? Do you think they’d often eat poisonous and lethal fish and other ocean life, what with the god killing thing? Would it become a common delicacy for them to eat things like fugu (a highly toxic blowfish, if prepared incorrectly) with little prep, even or especially raw? Is that toxicity just like zesty seasoning to them, or a flavor most can’t comprehend?

What’s the more popular cooking method in Uzushio- Steaming, grilled, frying, something else? Why would it be that popular, and what would work best in that environment?

What about alcohol- Do they favor sake? Shōchū? Something else? And other drinks- What kind of teas would they have?

Just! I’m sorry for rambling but I’m a Nerd and Uzushiogakure gets me Every Time.

Don't apologize! Details like this are something I get caught up in too!!

I think I've said it before but when it comes to relating Uzushio to a real place I, personally, tend to very loosely model Uzushio off of Okinawa.

So you have that influence plus the general nature I tend to give the Uzumaki.

There were other Clans too on Uzushio of course, but the Uzumaki ruled from time immemorial so their preferences influenced things a great deal.

For beverages: Konbu-cha served either plain or with Uzushio brown sugar for those who want a hint of sweetness. Water, obviously, though serving it with slices of fresh fruit and/or sprigs of mint mixed in is also common. Various fruit juices from native fruits are also popular, especially with children. The Uzumaki also have been known to drink sea water both casually and medicinally as they require higher alt levels than other Clans do. Flower teas are also popular, specifically fire-lily and hibiscus teas.

Traditional alcohol on Uzushio is awamori, which is distilled (like shochu) instead of brewed. The Uzumaki are known for making and consuming a specific type of awamori called hanazake which tends to be at least 120-proof and flammable.

Like you said seafood is the backbone of the cuisine in Uzushio with Clans like the Uzumaki having the ability to eat even the most poisonous of fair without too much in the way of preparation.

Fugu, stone and lion fish, as well as certain sharks are all common foods for Uzumaki that most other Clans do not consume regularly if ever. Young Uzumaki are often fed higher concentrations of normally poisonous dishes to help them develop a healthy constitution.

Crab is a common meat source as well, since the Uzushio spider crabs are prolific, breed quickly and easily, and grow to unsettling sizes.

Sea turtle used to be a common dish too but Something Happened in the past and Uzushio stopped all consumption of sea turtle meat.

Pig is also a very very common meat in Uzushio as the island is the perfect place for wild boar to flourish. There was an entire Clan, in fact, who was in charge of the cultivation of Uzushio's boar population.

Steaming and hot stone grilling are the most popular cooking styles in Uzushio. There's also an abundance of hot and cold soups. Frying tends to be reserved for desserts and specialty dishes.

Bitter melons, taro, ube, coconuts, papaya, and bamboo shoots are also also common.

[sketchfanda]

Chestnut Stud across the Multiverse Party: Halloween Hijinks

Mabel’s Sour to Sweet Halloween

Mabel Pines was not having a good night to say the very least and to think it had started off so well even. She had been invited to a halloween party and she decided to dress up for the occasion in a Playboy bunny outfit which did wonders showing off her stunning form. Her date loved her costume, especially considering how he he eyed her chest which was something she was plenty used to as she loved turning heads and making jaws drop, man and woman alike after puberty had really been a jackpot for her. Unfortunately, her mood soured quickly as it became obvious her boy of the week, not at a stage where his face and name were worth remembering,had only one thing on his mind because of course it was this sort of bullshit she was used to.

Now Mabel may act like she was ditzy, if not a total airheaded bimbo but past failed romances had made her more observant especially since that fateful summer when she was 12 going on 13. So when she noticed the guy slip something into her drink, she immediately asks the bartender for an angel shot while motioning to her soon to be expecting a night of misery pending being dumped date. the bartender nodded in understanding of course and even swapped the drinks for good measure, before motioning to the back office where Mabel went, sat there and waited. While the bartender made a call to the local department, She was annoyed and frustrated that another date went downhill.

Honestly, she blamed the reputation she had and it was easy to see what she meant. Ever since puberty hit and her breasts grew into blimps, she had had a reputation spread by bitter, jealous girls who were clearly just upset that their boys couldn't keep their eyes on them and of of her. Her first plan was to go home, pop open a beer, and finger one out to her favorite Zigzag short vid or film for the night. Unfortunately, that went downhill as she found a text telling her that her brother/roomate, who was the only ride she had as he had a licence, was going back to their pace with a baddie on his arm.

While a part of her was upset, another was glad her brother was finding someone to have fun with, when it was at this point, the officer who was sent to handle her situation, none other than Krillin, finally arrived and loaded the guy into the back seat of his cruiser, while Mabel rode in front figuring the compact cop wouldn’t mind helping her out. As the raiser drove on down along the nighttime streets, She couldn’t be help but eye Krillin and recognized his face, having thought he seemed kind of familiar. Though she highly doubted this is the same guy who was none other Don Juan Sanchez, the famous a human porn star of many of Double Z’s growing library of human dude on furry female works, but she could see too many similarities. And given her current level of pent up frustration, it was giving her some naughty ideas….

Deciding to play it cool and steady, She asked if he was upset, having noticed the slight deadpan look on the cop’a face with Krillin answering that he originally had plans to go trick or treating with his wife and daughter. But of course because apparently a co worker decided to be a total jackass and get drunk instead of showing up for work, he was now stuck covering the moron’s shift. Feeling sympathetic and rather bold in wanting to play out one of her Juan Sanchez fantasies, Mabel offered up a consolation prize, cupping and bouncing her large leotard clad melons in his face. Krillin looked at her with concern and said given what she nearly went through, he would be taking advantage, which only flattered the Pines girl.

Mabel assured him that she was plenty fine more, just disappointed at her bad luck with love. According to her as she shared her track record, She had only ever gotten this far 3 other times so yes she was fsr from any sort of slutwhore in spite of the body she was packing. The first guy jizzed his pants when he got her top off and ran out crying, like a little bitch while the second couldn't get it up, even with a shot from a defibrillator (family guy joke there, one of their good ones), and the third...well let's just say he was a freak and not in the real fun way, don’t ask. Seriously just don’t…..

Long story short, She just wanted to have some fun and it was Halloween for Pete’s sake. Krillin is quiet a moment before he picked up speaks some lingo into the radio before turning into a quiet, isolate dead end alley. In but a mere few minutes, her anticipation growing along with her arousal, Mabel wasted no time in seizing the opportunity presented before her as she pulls her costume open and got right down to business. Soon she was bouncing on Krillin's lap riding him hard and fast and loving every second of it, hearts glowing in her eyes as inches of glorious pussy pleasing womb hammering meat sank into her snatch.

In the midst of this rutting, she looksee at still drugged up dirtbag, still in the confines of the backseat, who may have been forgotten about, by Krillin at least but not by her, and the playboy bunny pines girl smiled lewdly and spitefully as flips him off. Making it clear to him that whether or not this is a dream, sh had found a better man who was doing it for her in ways he could never even imagine ad ooh did he blow his chance. The inside of the car was cramped but Krillin's small size proved a boon as they got ready to keep at it, much to Mabel’s sexy delight. She wasn’t sure if Krillin was in fact Don Juan Sanchez just yet but she felt he was passing off well enough t make it feel like she was living out a wet dream come to life.

Especially when Krillin would feast on Mabel's massive melons as she rode herself to completion, taking her in any and every which way possible in the confines of the cruiser’s front seat. Feeling every bit the horny, slutty bunny she was dressed like as she could see the bumping bulge in her stomach from how deep Krillin’s cock was reacting her womb, unable to help herself from sensually praising him and calling him Juan or Daddy. Orgasm rocking her, one after the other as she got herself quite a treat for putting out a trick for the compact stud cop. The police cruiser rocking and shaking, back and forth as the windows steamed up, her palms occasionally pressing and smearing the glass (eat your heart out Titanic).

After several rounds of passionate, orgasmic sexual ectasy, they finally stopped, fixing up their uniform or costume to seem presentable, and resumed the drive, heading back to Mabel’s place. Dropping her off and kissing her goodbye, much to her delight as she added a little tongue for good measure before waving him off and away. She entered her apartment and dropped to the bed, her body finally limp as the energy drain from her erotic quickie caught up to her, vaguely hearing the sound of her brother finishing up for the night. A big goofy smile on her face at the swel of victory thst bith Pines twins had gotten themselves some action his Halloween night, a classic tradition for them.

Meanwhile back at SCPD headquarters, his commanding officer and the ladies of his team were all watching in awe as they saw Krillin in action with Mabel. Never had they been more thankful for that secret set of mics and cameras they had installed in his cruiser, they’d been expecting a show when he made that dispatch call but goddamn!! They only wish he could’ve taken the Pines girl up in the alley but still he really made the most of the minutes he had. It definitely helped make up for having him work another shift on Halloween and reminded him why he was their favourite guy…..

18 meanwhile was watching via a secret feed of her own into the patrol car and looking over Mabel, wonders if she would be interested in working for Zigzag. She’d see about looking her up and getting into contact so they could disguise and make some arrangements, that is after she finished a little bean flicking. Ooh she was going to show Krillin a lot of love for this treat soon as he finished that beat but just seeing him in action like that? Really got her in the mood and made her fall in love with him all over again.

For those wondering, yes Krillin got real wild with his voyeuristic wife soon as he got home and the blonde had made her appointment with Mabel once she got in touch with her on social media. And made the busty Pines babe feel like she hit the jackpot when she confirmed for her that yes indeed, Krillin was in fact Don Juan Sanchez and she’d just done it with her favourite porn star. And should she be willing, she could see to it that she could get the chance again and again, as it just so happened Zigzag was looking to slight expand he human star roster. Mabel could only ask how soon could she start, much ti the kinky cyborg’s amusement as she made a new friend once more in the Krillin Lovers’ club…that Halloween night had been a real treat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Howling Good Time

Loona just glowered as she was want to do like the moody, broody Hellhound she as she hung around at a local watering hole in Satan City, having come on over up the living world with the rest of IMP for Halloween, one of the very few times of the year Demons like them could walk about in the open without disguises. So being the pissed, surly possible teenager she was, she opted to spend time by herself just walking around in her au naturale hellhound form going from bar to bar, taking a few drinks to stave off her boredom. Honestly, she would rather be partying in Hell than up here with these boring knuckle heads, christ how she hated Earth, everyone around here was so fucking stupid. And she couldn’t get drunk fast and hard enough, they had some weak shit around here which of course made her plenty moody and surly

Her drinking in public eventually lead some trouble her way, her attention turning to find herself getting grabbed by nine other than Satan City’s own Samaritan cop, Krillin, who was in a foul enough mood himself at being stuck on duty on another Halloween night, just his damn luck. Thinking of him as a bald version of Moxxie, she paid him no mind and even attempted to swing her currently empty bottle at him in anger, only to freeze when he catches her hand like it was nothing. Realizing she's in genuine trouble, the lush Hellhound tried to run only to be tackled down and subdued, much to her growing frustration. Blitz was never going to let her head the end of this if he ever heard about it and she wasn’t too fucking drunk to know she had to think fast or she was screwed.

Loona, desperate enough snd maybe just a teeny bit fuelled by booze, started to put the moves on Krillin, attempting to get him to back off, after all there was no way a runt like him would be so bold right? However, to her surprise yet again, he returns the flirting attempts in kind and even spanks her. She actually enjoys it a bit being dominated and even asks, "Can I have another?" as she shuddered at the delicious sting of pain in her furry booty. Something about such assertive dominance combined with the taint of booze was stirring something within her…..and she liked it, a lot.

Krillin, having gotten the all clear from 18 to have fun tonight, started to pull her into an empty alley, a nice little isolate spot for some cosy privacy from prying eyes and ears which only mad her arousal increase in anticipation. Once they were in deep enough, he handcuffs her to a pipe for extra affect which the hellhound girl found to be really making her wet. Sensually panting as he lifted up her shirt to expose her furry titties and pried her shirt shirts off of her toned, luscious legs. Finding a sticky web like trail of nectar clinging between them and her slit which radiated with sexual heat, the compact cop threw them aside he then proceeded to kiss her, locking lips with her muzzle.

It was ths kiss alone that truly put her into Bitch in heat mode as she pushed her tongue back against his, feeling orgasmic and thenguy hadn’t even taken his dick out yet. But once he had, the sight of that length and girth far bigger than a guy his size and all should be allowed to was nothing compared when he started using it on her. Taking her from behind or flipping her over and pinning her to the wall, making her moan and howl in wanton ecstasy and abandon as inches of that big human cock railed and rammed into her hot wet snatch like a jackhammer. Loona's screams for more and her lust howls of pleasure started getting too loud to a degree that he had to muzzle her with his belt, wrapping the strap around her muzzle which she found really turned her on bad..

After a few rounds, Krillin is called on his radio to react to an apparent murder, Loona’s orgasm hazed brain likely figuring that had to be Blitzo and the M&M duo having done their job. He responds that he’ll be here to check out the scene as soon as possible, a quick apology to Loona for this fuck and run, a least made the time and effort to leave the keys to the cuffs, but in a bit of oversight the keys were out of her reach. Much to her annoyance as she slumped against the wall, limbs numb from pleasure and pussy gushing with hot, creamy manjuice oozing down her furry thighs. Biting her lip as she shuddered in the afterglow of post orgasmic stupor, annoying as she spat realising she forgot to even ask his damn name.

A few thugs who were cutting a shortcut through his way of course happened to find Loona in her current tied state and step up to approach her. The normally in control and aggressive, temperamental especially at most times, finds herself feeling particularly annoyed with the obvious intentions of this pack of assholes who assumed she was a horny slutty furry or just some bitch in a sexy costume to take shameless advantage of. Like she was about to be out through some cliche hentai gangfuck scenario like in those trashy porn comics they’d sell in lust and thanks to the cuffs and muzzle, her options for self defence were limited second to none. Just what she needed, she has maybe the best fuck from a guy who’d just met her and now these pricks were going to up and taint it all for their cheap ass thrills because they couldn’t even afford a woman to look their way.

Thankfully, the thugs were quickly and swiftly dealt by the timely arrival of nine other Moxxie and Millie, who proceeded to cap the motherfuckers in a way they never even saw it coming. Loona in relief and gratitude soon as they uncuffed her and got the belt off of her muzzle, suddenly kisses Moxxie, but she tries to shrug it off like it was no big deal. The sweet possum of course decided turnabout is fair play and kisses Loona himself even grinding on her a bit, letting the hellhound feel his size. realizing he is far bigger than she ever thought or realised. Even mentally him comparing to the stud who rocked her a short time ago but was annoyingly too sore to pursue, he’d just been that good.

Sensually biting and licking her lips at the sudden make out between the Hellhound girl and her husband, Millie helped Loona get dressed soon as they finally broke their kiss apart before they all go back to hell. Giving her furry booty a quick slap as the lair decided not to ask Loona what exactly happened to her that got her in that state to begin with. They’d all had a long night, the job was done and Halloween would be finishing up soon so they had to haul ass back home. Loona reminding her she’d be making damn sure to get back at Moxxie for that kiss, shuddering at the distinct orgasmic tingle it had sent up along her spine and to her brain, wondering what a threesome between him and Krillin would be like….

Krillin in the meantime wasn’t sure what to make of the crime scene before him, on the one hand the victim wasn’t exactly someone anybody would actually miss. But supposedly the death was made or tried to be made to look like a suicide except no suicide by gunshot would see you riddled with more holes than Swiss cheese, to say nothing of the tail of wounded security and body guards who could only mumble about red possums and goats. It didn’t help that the security cameras and everything they ruled do the night got trashed so if this was the work of professionals? They were thorough if somewhat sloppy and reckless but Helluva piece of work for sure…

Krillin since that night hasn’t seen or heard from Loona since that Halloween night though on his OnlyZzFans page saw him get a few dms from someone called HellBitchMoon. Checking to find some messages from the Hellhound herself who’d no doubt found his work a Don Juan Sanchez and wasted no time in wanting to get intimately reacquainted with him. Her texts making it clear she felt she owed him payback for that hat little fuck and run, the sexy nude pictures she included captioned to remind him what to look forward to. The short king wondering just what he got himself into only for Zigzag to pop behind him, reading over his shoulder as she enquired who his new lady friend was.

Back in Hell on Loona’s side of things, she had since hooked up with Moxxie and Millie as a close, intimate friend with benefits and had found that the only fat the thespian imp had on him was the one he had been packing between his legs. Showing he was plenty on par with her rando cop stud and learning first hand one of the many reasons Millie had married the guy. Which certainly motivated and inspired a new standard in her tastes in men, more so once she came across Double Z studios and seen some of the handiwork of one Don Juan Sanchez. It didn’t matter if that wasn’t his real name or not, all she knew she for sure was, she was going to have that dick again, one way or another.

Oh right if you’re wondering what had happened with Blitzo that Halloween night, it hadn’t been too rough for him. Except for the fact some of their target’s protection platoon had shot him right in his asscheeks with a few rounds of hot lead. So he had to spend some time in one of the Sloth ring’s hospitals with his ass bandaged and plastered to heal up and repair much to his annoyance. He didn’t mind it uo the ass once a while but this was just ri-goddamn-diculous!!

(Not connected to A Little Moxxie Love, my 3 main fics are all based within their own respective universes with my particular spin on them. So any versions of chars from those respective series appearing in any crossovers are that particular universe's version)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Filling an Empty Heart

Many have been the stories told in Satan City of strange and weird ti be found in some of its oldest parts, back when it’d been known as Orange Star City but chief among them was the tale of Annabelle the lust demon, who’d been been locked away in a cemetery trapped by a monster hunter for centuries. Most would’ve chalked it up as a cheesy urban legend, the sort of thing teenagers told at campfires or sleepovers and slumber parties snd parents to their kids as a sort of bogeyman but in this Halloween Night a lovely young couple woild prove thst to not be the case. Leave it to a pair of hormone addled horny teens to commit the classic horror movie sim by hiding in that very cemetery to make out and unknowingly break the seal and release the demonic woman from her long, solitary slumber.

Our naive foolish love birds of course, failing to notice the obvious red flags here, instead saw a strange woman who was looking awfully sick and tired, thinking she had been locked in as part of a cruel prank and went to help her. This proved to be a bad idea for you see folks, Annabelle here was a succubus had a rather dark hunting method which they found out via first hand experience as she reached into their chests and pulls out glowing red heart-shaped balls of energy before eating them, relishing a flavour only she could taste as her treats contained her victims’ memories of people and especially, particularly love and happiness. Feeding on those she regained her strength, the sensation of finally feeding once more after who knows how long a thrilling sensation but not yet enough to fill the void deep within her, at least not yet as she spread her tired wings and took flight to go into the city. It was but a mere handful of hours before she started to amass a sizeable body count, too busy binging to care of any attention this might send her way.

As more were falling victim in the city, we come to check on Krillin who was off trick or treating with his wife and daughter, the Chestnut family trio rocking a classic medieval fairy tale theme (him dressed as a paladin, 18 as a queen, and Marron as a pretty little princess), only for them to find Annabelle herself by accident in the midst of enjoying her latest conquest. Right then and there as they were in one another’s line of sight, the compact cop got a called from his commanding officer informing him that some woman was seen assaulting people throughout numerous locations Satan City, given her descriptions which the strange predatory creature before them fit to T. Krillin wasted no time in stepping up into defensive position, warning 18 and telling her to get Marron to safety to which she obliged and wished him the best of luck, of which he had a feeling he going to need plenty. And not the kind on par with the risk of death that had come from facing the likes of Frieza and Majin Buu, oh no…more the sort thst implied he was going to need an ice cold bath.

Annabelle:*Her current target forgotten as she had her eyes on Krillin licking her lips ravenously before declaring.* "A paladin my favorite!" *Driven by her gnawing hunger, she charged at him as he wasted no time in leading her on a chase through the nearby woods, getting somewhere isolated. Once there, they proceeded to clash before she got a lucky shot in, reaching into Krillin's chest pulling out a massive heart energy. She drooled as the sight the memories of all his friends, his wife, daughter, and various other women, beholding such love and happiness in absolute awe.*

Thankfully before she can take a bite, Krillin blasted her away which caused the glowing heart orb to make its way back to him, much to his relief. Before she could recover and lash out in retaliation for her sweet meal being interrupted, she was suddenly finding herself bound by wrappings. Which Krillin recognized as the bandages of Mr. Mummy, who revealed his presence stepping out from the shadows accompanied by none other than the little sister of Master Roshi, Fortuneteller Baba. The elderly seer explained she hadn’t just shown up out of coincidence, stating that she sensed something wrong and happened to have been nearby when Klown and explained how she came upon this situation.

Naturally it seemed only fair to Krillin to share what information he had as he caught Baba up to speed on the current set of circumstances. As this was happening, the bound up Annabelle suddenly began to break down into tears sobbing heavily, almost ugly crying, much to their befuddlement. Baba realised then what the reason was for this as she revealed that the unfortunate creature before them was a succubus, a demonic being of lust and desire who can in fact fall in love. When their heart is broken, however, it creates a void that is difficult to fill, leaving them with a gnawing hunger that drives them to binge and feed aimlessly and needlessly.

This woman no doubt went through such a thing and thus had to feed to cease her pain, futile as it seemed. Krillin, feeling sympathetic, had an idea that she wanted love, well then he’d give her some love. At least he hopes it will work but hey it wasn’t an easier gamble than a lot of the wild stunts Goku and Vegeta had pulled in their whole lifetime. Okay yeah sure she was a violent sex demon but she had circumstances, it wasn’t like she was some genocidal planet killer, right?!

Pulling out some dyno-caps as he found a particular one he was looking for, he clicked the button and threw it as the smoke popped to unveil a small trailer, something for traveling vacations or if 18 got in the mood. Which of course happened more times he could count or be willing to admit as he went and picked Annabelle up, carrying the still crying, confused succubus in there before laying her of the soft bed and kisses her. She reluctantly kisses back, and soon finds herself getting into it, wrapping her arms and around Krillin as her bindings became undone. Baba having had the Mumy undo them as the pair put a good bit of distance between them and the trailer, something told them they’d need to give Krillin some privacy as it was best to trust this unorthodox plan he had in mind.

Annebelle;”Well then, go ahead boy, see if you can heal my heart." *The heartbroken succubus taunted which made a contrast to the hazy love struck look in her eyes from making out with the compact stud as they’d stripped one another naked. What soon follows was a stream of loud swears and screams of pleasure, as the succubus is taken for the wildest ride of her life. The sound of the bed springs squeaking and the trailer's suspensions straining fills the night air as Annabelle howled out for more. Riding him cowgirl style in forward and reverse, and even trying to dominate him with the amazon position, but failing much to her rapturous delight.*

Annabelle:*The predatory lust fiend soon then found herself pinned and taken in a mating press as Krillin even takes It a step further using a ki technique to lock he arms to the wall, and pound her even deeper and harder as he had her face pressing against it.*"Come on baby, show me what you got! I know you got the stamina. Keep those creampies coming!" *It was pretty clear that Krillin’s plan was proving effective and then some, pink hearts glowing in her eyes as she found herself feeling so..utterly loved and in love for the first time since forever. After over a dozen rounds in different positions the bed breaks, and Krillin has her in missionary position on the floor as she is close to her limit.*"Do it baby! One more! Just one more! I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT DADDY! I LOVE YOU!!"*With that sexy declarative cry, she lets out a final orgasmic scream before she collapses into a heap of satisfaction as the warm afterglow took her, feeling truly fed and her void gone.*

The hazy light of dawn starting to shine in the windows as Krillin sat by the succubus catching his breath. With the job done, Baba finally entered the trailer, wincing at the smell, before grabbing the succubus with her telekinesis, saying she would look after her. It was at this point 18 arrived and inconspicuously dropped a card with their contact information onto Annabelle's person. She then pushed Krillin back into the trailer as Baba leaves and looks at him with a clear sensual hunger in her cool blue eyes, looking over him as she relished the scent and obvious sexy demolished state of their little love nest.

18:”Starting to feeling a little left out babe, you finished before i coild get here but hey….still want your halloween treat?”*Krillin certainly can't deny her when she was in the mood like this as the trailer starts shaking again. Hey there is a reason among many she married the guy and right now was among the top 5 to 3 in that list. The short king snd his cyborg lady love rocking the casbah as they made uo for some lost time and 18 relished the juicy details of her man’ latest sexual conquest. When that trailer was a rocking, don’t come knocking…..*

It was sometime since that peculiar Halloween that Word would reach them that someone heard a witch screaming out in the woods that night. While Baba’s home now had a new trial for potential customers between either paying her fee or fighting her monstrous champions. If they could outlast ad make her new employee Annabelle cum, then they could get a reading for free and suffice to say, no one had succeeded. Easy to see why when Annabelle had a new standard to measure by…..and her newly restored heart had dedicated itself to one man alone, the man who made love to her in mind,body and soul….

[corellianhounds]

Hc that the black melon milk the Tuskens drink could taste like two different things:

First option is coffee. Bitter taste, doesn’t smell great, but starts to grow on you the more you have it. I think Boba says in TBoBF that it starts to be addictive.

Second option is something akin to a briny seafood, since Tatooine used to have oceans and the melons resemble sea urchin shells. My money’s on something like those oily canned oysters that have a strong smell and an acquired taste

[oh-he-grows]

Quick little garden tour:

the wildflowers are immaculate despite the heat and drought

peppers of all shapes and sizes- Txorixero, Jigsaw, Chinese 5-color, Tsin Tsin, Poblano, Jalapeno. in the background is my onion bed (overtaken by weeds that were impossible to deal with) and behind that is the pea/spinach/carrot bed which is dried up. I've plucked plenty of peas and pinach pods and i'm drying them elsewhere for seed saving.

herb bed, with blank spots filled in by zinnias and a bitter melon chives, parsley, thyme from left to right

cranberry beans, which have just started producing pods

the watermelon patch between the beans and tomatoes, with another zinnia that i'm too kind to tear up, and the wild tomato jungle strung up with a semi-florida weave

a 4x4 section entirely dedicated to lemongrass because I love thai curry, with a wall of zinnias and gifted tomato plants, then zucchini on the right side

the last-finished garden bed where I tried to plant bare-root strawberries but it's been so hot and dry only a couple survived. I replaced the bare space with some late-started exotic peppers. also in containers are some perennials, succulents, and crispy ass lavender

the sunflower bed is doing great with regular sprinkling

the left half of my garden which is still missing about 12 yards of compost, but we'll get to that before the next growing season. next to the wildflowers are two owari satsumas that i keep meaning to plant but really i'm too lazy so they've stayed in their pots next to the wildflowers. I have a meyer lemon and a calamondin orange in the same situation just off-camera.

[talonabraxas]

Planetary Correspondences of the Moon

The energy of the moon is tidal and watery, bringing to mind our deepest dreams, thoughts and emotions and its cyclical nature honors the cycles of our lives and our bodies. The moon shines its light through the darkness to reveal secrets, even those we keep from ourselves.

The moon’s metal is silver.

Stones that correspond to the energy of the moon tend to be white and/or luminescent. moonstone, pearl, white quartz and white or clear crystal spheres.

Lunar Herbs

Lunar herbs tend to be juicy and lightly sweet and with a sweet (sometimes cloying) fragrance. Either they produce watery fruits, or they have succulent leaves or both.

Many moon herbs help to balance hormones, relieve mild pain and/or gently induce sleep. Many moon plants open at night and close during the day or release their scent at night to attract nocturnal pollinators. Moon plants often grow near water.

White or silvery plants tend to correspond to lunar energy and sometimes these plants bear the mark of the moon even more strongly (see the doctrine of signatures).

Here’s a list:

moonflower,

lotus,

Evening Primrose,

Night Jasmine,

cucumber,

melon,

bitter

melon,

almond,

agave,

moonwort,

milkweed,

passionflower(sedative),

mallow,

Willow(pain),

poppy (sedative, pain relief),

Gooseberry,

Goat’s beard,

Mugwort,

Wild Yam(hormones),

Iris

Lunar Fragrances- Incense, Oils and Fumigation Herbs

Almond, clary sage, Orris root

Temple of the Moon Portals into the Multiverse. Talon Abraxas

[cognitivejustice]

Meet Dr. Enoch G. Achigan-Dako, professor of plant breeding genetics, at the University of Abomey-Calavi, Benin

Researching in the heart of African rural communities, Enoch Achigan-Dako is spreading the knowledge of crops with manifold potential uses in health, food security and biodiversity.

Raised in a single parent household, Enoch Achigan-Dako grew up in Benin watching his mother sell fruit and vegetables at her stall. One of her staple products was egusi melon, which is cultivated in Benin, Ghana, Nigeria, and Togo.

While egusi looks like a typical watermelon on the outside, and even has the same scientific name, Citrullus lanatus, once you cut it and taste it, the difference is evident. The inside is green, and the seeds of the egusi are edible, too, unlike watermelon seeds.

“I was confused when I was little when I saw that egusi, which has a bitter flesh, was called the same name as watermelon, with red and sweet flesh, and that’s where my curiosity started to flow,” says Achigan-Dako, a professor of genetics and plant breeding at the University of d’Abomey-Calavi.

Discovering the links between the two became the basis of his PhD. During his studies, he noticed that there was a very narrow connection between egusi and watermelon, which was thought to come from Asia.

The sisré berry story

It is fruits and vegetables like egusi that crop scientists have pinned their hopes on, as African traditional vegetables are found to be rich in bioactive compounds that have anticancer, antiviral, anti-tumour, antimicrobial and antioxidant properties.

These crops are underutilised, as they are only known in their specific communities, and these are the vegetables that could help in combatting disease in humans, too.

Also found in West Africa is the sisré berry, also called the ‘miracle berry’, which is used as a multi-purpose natural sweetener in the communities in the Dahomey Gap that runs through Benin, Togo, and Ghana and the Upper Guinea Forest. Achigan-Dako and his team believe the berry could be used to help prevent diabetes, a growing issue on the African continent.

"If you don’t share knowledge, if you don’t share what you have as most important in you, then there is no value in living – that’s my philosophy"

As a scientist and vice president of the African Plant Breeders Association, Achigan-Dako sees the ‘opportunity crop’ discoveries he makes with his team as vital when it comes to promoting vegetable biodiversity.

“Travelling across the continent and discovering people, practices and genetic diversity increased my knowledge of the continent and why we should continue safeguarding genetic resources,” he says.

[exhausted-archivist]

ALT

Flora of Thedas Master List

Master list of all the flora in Thedas, mentioned or seen.

Additional notes on certain items will be listed at the bottom, for items marked with asterisks, see the key below for a brief explanation and the Game assets and Additional Notes and Trivia section at the bottom. Sources are listed at the very end and this time linked.

For other lists here are posts for: Real Plants in Thedas

Key: * - Name comes from the asset file name ** - Name not provided but identified based on the textures used on the asset. *** - See Additional Notes and Trivia.

General Flora: Flowers and Foliage

Acacia*: Black Wood*

Andraste's Grace

Ardent Blossom

Ash

Aspen

Banyan Tree*

Barbwood

Beech Tree

Belladonna

Birch: White Birch*

Blackthorn

Bluebell

Borage

Boswellia

Boxwood*

Buttercup

Cactus: Pear Cactus*

Cattail*

Cedar: Red Cedar

Chicory

Clover: Forest Clover*

Coleus**

Cosmos

Cotton

Crape Myrtle

Cypress: Italian Cypress*, Topiary Cypress*

Daffodil

Daisy: Marguerite

Dandelion

Dog-rose

Dogwood*

Elephant Ear*

Elm

Fade Berry*

Felicidus Aria

Fern: Red Fern*, Sword Fern*

Fir

Flax

Foxleaf*

Frangipani

Gorse

Harlot's Blush

Hawthorn

Hay

Hemp

Hensbane

Hero Tree*

Hollyhock

Honeysuckle

Iris

Ironbark

Ironwood***

Itchweed

Ivy

Jasmin

Larch

Lichen: Glowing Lichen

Lilac

Lily: Calla Lily**, Water Lily

Lotus

Maple

Marigold

Moss: Oakmoss, Redmoss, Tree-Moss

Nightshade

Northern Prickleweed

Oak: Serault Oak

Orchid

Palm Tree: Curly Palm*, Fan Palm*

Pansy

Peony

Pine: Chir Pine*, Stone Pine

Ponga Tree*

Poppy

Prickle-burrs

Redwood*

Rose: Climbing Rose

Rowan

Sandalwood

Seaweed

Snapdragon

Spruce

Sugar Cane

Sundew

Sunflower

Sylvanwood

Tahanis

Thistle

Trex*

Trullium

Vasanthum

Violet

Walnut: Black Walnut

Waterweed*

Wilds Flower

Willow

Witchhazel*

Wysteria

Yew

Fruits

Apple: Applewood Apple, Green Apple, Golden Apple, Red Apple

Apricot

Banana

Berries: Blackberry, Blueberry, Bramble Berry, Cranberry, Elderberry, Raspberry, Strawberry

Cherry

Citron

Coco, Chocolate

Coconut

Coffee

Currants: Black Currant

Fig

Grape

Lemon

Lime

Melon

Nuts: Almonds, Chestnut, Hognut, Peanuts

Olives

Orange: Sweet Orange

Palm Fruit: Date

Passion Fruit

Peach

Pear: Bradford Pear*

Plum

Pomegranate

Grains

Barley

Oats

Rice

Ryott

Wheat

Vegetables

Artichoke

Beans: Bush Bean, Green Bean, Pale Bean, White Bean

Beets

Bell Peppers: Red Bell Peppers

Cabbage

Capers

Carrot

Celery

Chive

Corn

Cucumber

Daikon Radish*

Eggplant

Fennel

Onion: Red Onion, Sweet Onion, White Onion

Pea

Peppers: Antivan Pepper, Green Pepper, Hot Pepper, Hot Red Pepper, Sweet Pepper

Potato

Radish

Spinach

Squash: Baby Pumpkin, Marrow Squash, Pumpkin, String Squash

Tomato

Turnip

Fungus of Thedas

Deep Mushrooms

Bleeding Russula

Blightcap

Blighted Morel

Brimstone Mushroom

Deep Mushroom

Destroying Spirit

Ghoul's Mushroom

Unnamed Mushroom Ortan Thaig

Surface Mushrooms

Beetle Spore

Drakevein

Field Mushroom

Gasbloom*

Sponge Root***

Toadstool

Truffle

Morel***

Unnamed Glowing Mushroom***

Unnamed Mushroom***

Spices

Allspice

Antivan Cord-Seed

Cardamom

Cinnamon

Clove

Cumin, Cumin Seed

Dill, Dill Seed

Juniper

Licorice

Mace

Mustard

Nutmeg

Pepper: Black Pepper

Peppercorn: Black Peppercorn

Saffron

Vanilla

ALT

Herbs of Thedas

Herbs count as anything that Dragon Age has classified as an herb (whether technically correct or not), plants that are used as herbs in real life. These do not include mushrooms, fungi, or deep mushrooms simply for ease of organization.

Amrita Vein

Andraste's Mantle

Arbor Blessing

Basil

Bay

Catsbane

Crystal Grace

Deathroot: Arcanist Deathroot, Lunatic's Deathroot

Dragonthorn

Elfroot/Canavaris: Bitter Elfroot, Gossamer Elfroot, Royal Elfroot

Embrium: Dark Embrium, Salubrious Embrium

Felandaris

Foxite

Garlic

Ghoul's Beard

Ginger

Heatherum

Lavender

Lotus: Black Lotus, Blood Lotus, Dawn Lotus

Madcap

Mint: Anderfel's Mint, Foxmint, Peppermint

Mintroot - Not a true mint based on its description and the fact that it grows on trees.

Oregano

Parsley

Prophet's Laurel

Rashvine

Rashvine Nettle

Redleaf

Rosemary

Sage

Spindleweed: Verdant Spindleweed

Stripweed

Thyme

Vandal Aria

Winterberry***

Witherstalk

Star Anise

Wormwood

Wormroot***

Game Assets Notes

These are plants shown in Dragon Age but aren't named in universe, just in their model files or through identification of the textures. Since most filler plant textures are just that of real world plants.

**NOTE:** When I mention they are not the known name of any plant, this comes with the caveat of being popular common names. Common names are highly variable and inconsistent. They depend on regional knowledge and association. Some travel farther than others. Common names are also not reliable identifiers.

Acacia: Black Wood ~ Note: Black Wood is a type of acacia. Both acacia and black wood are named assets.

Artichoke ~ Note: Identification comes from asset name, the artichoke flower is used as ornamentation of a box.

Banyan Tree

Boxwood ~ A type of shrub, identification comes from asset name.

Bradford Pear ~ Their fruits are edible, however their flowers are known to emit a smell akin to rotting meat. Identification comes from asset name.

Calla Lily ~ Note: Not named but identified by the texture used. It is seen in Val Royeaux planters.

Cattail ~ Note: Seen through out DAO and DAI, identification comes from asset name.

Coleus ~ Note: Not named but identified by the texture used. It is seen in Val Royeaux planters and in the Frostback Basin.

Crape Myrtle

Cypress: Italian Cypress, Topiary Cypress ~ Note: In terms of the Italian Cypress, in world it wouldl likely be called the "Antivan Cypress" given that Antiva is pulling from Italian culture, food, environments, and other inspirational elements. Cypress is a plant that is named in canon.

Daikon Radish ~ Note: Found on Dennet's farm, identification comes from asset name.

Dogwood

Elephant Ear ~ Note: Foliage found in the Frostback Basin, identification comes from asset name.

Fade Berry

Fern: Red Fern, Sword Fern ~ Note: The red fern isn't a real plant and therefore can be considered unique to Thedas. In contrast the sword fern is a real plant. Identification comes from the asset name for both of these ferns.

Forest Clover

Foxleaf ~ Note: This is another plant that is not real, no plant has this common name as far as I could find.

Gasbloom ~ Note: Seen in the Arbor Wilds, the Frostback Basin some elven ruins, and the elven ruins of multiplayer levels. Their identification comes from the asset name. There are two versions of the texture the "fixed" version is used in JoH dlc and thus explains the difference in appearance. This is not the name of a known mushroom.

Hero Tree

Palm: Curly Palm, Fan Palm ~ Note: Both palms are seen in the Frostback Basin, both are identified by their named assets.

Pear Cactus ~ Note: Found in the Frostback Basin, identification comes from the asset name.

Pine: Chir Pine

Ponga Tree ~ Note: Also known as the 'Tree Fern'. This is the tree you see in Val Royeaux garden as coming from Par Vollen, and throughout the Arbor Wilds.

Redwood ~ Note: Identified by the name of the file asset. Found in the Winter Palace, Exalted Plains, and on multiplayer maps.

Snapdragon

Trex

Waterweed ~ Note: In real life this is an entire genus not one particular plant. Though the six plants in this genus do share the common name of waterweed.

White Birch

Witchhazel

Additional Notes and Trivia

Ironwood - Unclear if this is an alternative name, the actual name of the plant, or both.

Morel - This mushroom is inferred due to the existence of Blighted Morel. However it is not explicitly specified there is a non-blighted morel.

Sponge Root - Though canonical as it is mentioned and shown in World of Thedas vol. 2 on pg. 138 with a collection of deep mushroom and surface mushroom illustrations. This mushroom was cut twice from Inquisition. It was cut from the base game as a craftable, it had a much different appearance from its final design, and then it was cut again from Trespasser. It does however still make an appearance in Inquisition as the inventory icon for Crystal Grace.

Unnamed Glowing Mushroom Is mentioned in multiplayer when there are two Lukas playing.

Unnamed Mushroom These brown mushrooms are seen in the Fallow Mire and the Frostback Basin. They are shown in two different sizes ranging from shorter than a dwarf to taller than one.

There is one unlisted mushroom, its assets is named "red mushroom" and thus is identified by textures. These is not a canon name but is included for completeness. Amanita Muscaria: More commonly know as fly agaric or fly amanita, the red top with white spots is an iconic in its imagery. You will find large swaths of these mushrooms in the Frostback Basin. Their assets is named "Red Mushroom".

Winterberry is a real plant. However, from what we see in DA2, it does not the same as the plant we have in the real world, just a shared common name.

Wormroot is another real plant name. However, due to the description in The Calling, it does not seem to be the same plant. In The Calling it is used to treat the venom of a giant spider. The real world plant is used to treat parasites in the gut and does not seem to hold any shared uses in folk lore, folk medicine, or western medicine practices.

Sources

Dragon Age Origins + DLCs Dragon Age 2 Dragon Age Last Court Dragon Age Inquisition + DLCs Dragon Age TTRPG Core Rulebook Dragon Age TTRPG Blood of Ferelden Dragon Age TTRPG: Creatures of Thedas: Wyvern

World of Thedas Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 Dragon Age: The Stolen Throne Dragon Age: The Calling Dragon Age: The Masked Empire Dragon Age: Last Flight Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights Short Story: Paying the Ferryman Short Story: Riddle in the Truth Short Story: The Wake

Origins Andraste's Grace Codex: The Bercillian Forest Codex: Falon'Din: Friend of the Dead, the Guide Codex: Feast Day Fish Codex: The History of Soldier's Peak: Chapter 3 Codex: Ironbark Codex: A Note from the Honnleath Village Council Codex: Sylaise: The Hearthkeeper Codex: Sylvan Codex: A Tattered Shopping List Item: Concentrator Agent Item: Deep Mushroom Item: Figurine Item: Madcap Bulb Item: Rare Antivan Brandy Item: Rashvine Nettle Item: Spirit Charm Item: Spirit Cord Item: Sugar Cake Item: Swift Salve Item: West Hill Brandy Item: Wilds Flower

DA 2 Ambrosia Bianca (Crossbow) Ironwood Clearing Codex: Deathroot Codex: Deep Mushroom Codex: Embrium Codex: Felandaris Codex: The Hedge Witch Codex: Spindleweed Item: Carved Ironwood Buttons Item: Harlot's Blush Quest: Hard to Stomach Quest: The Long Road Quest: Tranquility Weapon: The Celebrant Weapon: Ironwood Shield Weapon: Ironwood Warblade

Inquisition Codex: Amrita Vein Codex: Arbor Blessing Codex: Avvar Cuisine Codex: Black Lotus Codex: Blood Lotus Codex: Bottles of Thedas Codex: Crystal Grace Codex: Elfroot Codex: Ghoul's Beard Codex: The Girl in Red Crossing Codex: Hard in Hightown Chapter 7 Codex: Hard in Hightown Chapter 10 Codex: Mediations and Odes to Bees Codex: Notes on Palace Guests Codex: The Orlesian Civil War Codex: Prophet's Laurel Codex: Rashvine Codex: Rashvine Nettle Codex: Vandal Aria Codex: Vivienne's Alchemy Notes Codex: Waterlogged Diary Codex: Witherstalk Note: Betta's Traveling Journal Note: Carta Note on Security Note: Field Notes Note: The Gilded Horn's Drink List Note: Knight-Captain's Orders Note: Love Letter Note: A Note from Skyhold's Kitchens Note: A Note from Skyhold's Kitchens, Again War Table: The Dance with the Dowager: The Allemande Item: Ardent Blossom

Last Court The Abbess' Road The Anchoress Arrival of the Divine The Feast is Ending Fires Flames of Freedom Good Neighbors Heartwood Feast The Hounds The Lord of the Wood Comes a-Calling The Purveyor of Teas Road and River A Swift Stream Thieves! Unofficial Meeting

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