#Market Storage Bags

[urbancreative]

With a traditional minimalistic Japanese design, the bento bag is a highly versatile and multi functional bag. Use it to store veggies and fruit, to store roti or bread is a bread basket or  to carry your lunch box or even as a travel organizer. Carry them in your handbag when you go to the market to shop plastic free.

[farmerstrend]

Record 70Million Bags of Maize Harvest: How Government Policies on Fertiliser Subsidies Are Paying Off

“Discover how Kenya’s record maize harvest of 70 million bags is reshaping the nation’s food security, driven by government subsidies and favorable weather conditions.” “Kenya’s maize harvest hits an all-time high! Learn about the factors behind the bumper crop and its impact on the country’s agricultural future.” “Explore the success story of Kenya’s maize harvest reaching 70 million bags,…

[renthony]

Buy some beeswax candles from a household of disabled queer crafters!

Hey everyone, there are some changes happening with the Etsy shop I run with my husband @kryptidkhaos!

For one, we've rebranded! When I first opened the shop, I was handling everything on my own, but Aiden's taken over a significant amount of the labor while I work on all the other projects I have going at any given time. The shop's original name, "Ren's Curio Shop," didn't quite fit now that it's not just mine anymore, hence...Candles and Cantrips!

The candle part should be obvious from the photos at the top of this post, but why "cantrips"? Because I'm starting to make dice and other tabletop gaming related crafts again! Over the next few weeks I'll be working to add new listings for dice, dice accessories such as bags, trays, and storage boxes, and a few more fun things you'll hear about once I make more progress.

Until that's all ready to list, we still have a wonderful selection of unscented, all-natural beeswax candles--including three brand-new listings for votives and mini tapers.

The prices on a couple of our listings have gone up slightly, adjusted to accommodate higher beeswax prices and cost of living in the second half of 2024. We haven't raised them too terribly much, though, so if you're in the market for beeswax candles, I hope you'll check out our shop! Each candle is made by a couple of disabled queers in our crappy little apartment kitchen, and each purchase supports our little queer family as we try to survive the capitalist hellscape we must exist in.

Candles & Cantrips on Etsy

Thanks for reading, and have a great day!

[mikiruie]

cologne.

── REO MIKAGE ﹕ 御影 玲王 ┊͙ BLUE LOCK ✩

  ❤︎   fem!reader. suggestive — sfw. pro-player! + ceo!reo. established relationship. making out. implied sex. petnames ( baby, sweetheart, handsome ). word count 1470 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ masterlist

Reo Mikage has tried damn near every single high end cologne on the market, yet he can’t for the life of him figure out which ones don’t make your head spin like crazy. In a bad way.

It’s an almost infuriating song and dance. He thinks he’s finally found the one on his way home from the store, raved about and recommended by his most trusted friends. “It’s foolproof,” they tell him, enabling him to drop the average Japanese citizen’s monthly salary on a full bottle of this stuff. “She’ll be all over you for sure.”

Their assurances ring loud and clear in Reo’s ears as he spritzes a few pumps of the perfume onto himself before he knocks on the door, his confidence soaring through the roof. There’s no way you won’t be able to resist him like this, coming home from work after hours apart and smelling like a million bucks.

You open the door for him as always, all smiles as he leans in for an open mouthed kiss, only to be left high and dry when you furiously shake your head and wriggle out of his hold as soon as you catch a whiff of his new perfume.

“Yuck,” you gag, pulling away from his bear hug with a grimace, nose wrinkling up at the stench of artificial fragrance lingering on his skin. “You smell weird.”

Reo frowns, tugging at the collar of his shirt and giving it a sniff. It smells normal, and the notes in the cologne are quite pleasant— he’s confused as to what you find so extremely repulsive. “It’s Christian Dior, baby.”

The palm of your hand comes up to cover your nose as you step away from your fiancé, even dodging his attempts to press a kiss to your cheek when he inches closer to you while stating simply “Well it smells nauseating.”

There are boxes upon boxes of full, practically unused perfumes and colognes that Reo has bought over the months due to this debacle, all shoved haphazardly and stored away in some closet in the house that he can’t remember. He’s been meaning to just fork them over to Nagi and maybe even Chigiri to save storage, though he’s not too sure that his friends will ever be able to use all of them up anyway. It’s well almost a lifetime supply at this point.

Reo’s search for the perfect scent that will make your heart sing is long and gruelling. He’s done countless forum quizzes on which scent he thinks you’ll like best, scrolled through all the recommendation reels he can, and has even asked for help from staff at his work. It’s a bit humiliating to say the least— watching the CEO of the Mikage Corporation stumbling from floor to floor, going around and asking every person who will give him the time of day (which to be fair, is most people) on what perfumes their spouse prefers they wear.

“What are you wearing?” You ask when he offers his wrist to you after another perfume haul, giving it a quick inhale before choking. “It’s so strong, I can’t think.”

Reo caps the bottle with a sigh, embarrassed and shrinking away as he tucks it back into its box. Another failed attempt, it seems. “Versace?”

“It’s awful.”

Hastily he pulls out another tester from the inside of his shopping bag, one of the freebies that the employee at the store gave him. She said it was a bestseller of theirs. “What about this one, baby?” He spritzes it a few times onto the skin of your wrist, rubbing it in with circular motions with the pad of his thumb before looking up at you with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Chanel?”

You inspect the skin momentarily, Reo’s heart is thrumming loudly in his chest. He’s been nervous before, but this feels like sitting on the edge of a cliff. You give the tester a preliminary smell, and Reo’s jaw dropped, in pure disbelief when you pull your wrist away almost immediately, disgust written all over your face. “No, no no.” You queaze, “This smells even worse than the others.”

Reo is absolutely dumbfounded. The receipts he carries for all his perfume purchases are starting to litter the space of his desks both at work and at home, strewn about in messy piles and seemingly mocking his pointless journey of trying to figure out what your tastes are.

It can’t be that you don’t like fruity scents, he’s tried all the mild and subtle combinations there are out there. Is it the stench of alcohol in the mixes that you hate?

Frustrated, Reo takes a shower to try and calm his mind, attempting to wash away the abhorrent smells of all the types of cologne you hate from the surface of his skin before your date tonight. He scrubs extra hard on his wrists and the expanse of his neck, the most common pulse points to put fragrance on. Part of it is anger management, ensuring that he doesn’t immediately flip every bottle of perfume over in your house until there’s glass covering each inch of your floors.

With all of the scents he piled onto his skin having been stripped away with reliable soap and running water, Reo sits on the edge of your shared bed in nothing but a towel, using another to dry his hair when you come slinking not too long after, closing the door behind you and making your way over to him eagerly. Your gaze is low, eyes half lidded as you lean on his shoulder, snuggling into it warmly. The affection is much welcomed by him, seeing as you practically try to avoid him every time he comes home with a new scent sprayed.

“Hi, sweetheart,” He greets you like normal, still a bit peeved and disappointed in himself all because he can’t nail your perfect scent down to a tee. His brows are knitted in deep concentration, towel still rifling through lavender tresses when he’s snapped out of his stupor by the realization of your hands creeping up his biceps, curling around his toned arm and pulling his almost naked form closer to you.

“You smell so good, baby.”

He’s frozen for a moment's notice, too nervous to move just in case he’s dreaming. “I— I do?”

You nod, pulling him in by the nape of his neck for a kiss. His eyes are blown wide at the sudden surge of brazenness and want from you before he melts into your touch like honey, letting you take the reins as you push him down onto your bed, straddling him and hovering dangerously close to the knot of his towel when you lean down to pull him into another hot and heavy make out.

Reo doesn’t understand it at all, still revelling in all of the attention and love he’s receiving when he pulls away from your lips breathlessly, a whine threatening to rip from both your throats. His face is flushed, wet bangs still sticking to his forehead, and your skin is hot and feverish to the touch in his palms.

“I’m so lost,” he whispers, flustered by how close your lips are to touching. Yours are soft and plump, kiss-bitten and barely grazing his with a coy smile.

“I like when you smell like this.” You confess, giving him another peck and pulling away before he can yank you down himself to finish the job. You’re too much of a tease. “Smells much better than those colognes.”

“I only took a shower, though . . . ?”

You scoff, like it was obvious all along. Because it was— except to your poor fiancé. “That’s the point, idiot.”

Reo doesn’t get it. His whole life, his family has placed great emphasis on maintaining appearance. His parents only used the most luxurious of scented products when going out, and encouraged him to do the same. “First impressions matter, Reo,” they told him, “especially when it comes to having a signature scent.”

But if this is what you, his future wife likes; all clean and natural, nothing synthetic or overdone, then he’s happy to appease you by however means necessary.

His towel feels tight around his waist, and his eyes are glazed over with checked hunger as he struggles to keep his hands from drifting down past your hips. Your own eyes swirl with ardent desire too, panting in sync with the beats of his chest as you lay atop him. He’s eager to continue from where you left off, wanting more of your searing and unbridled touch, and you don’t look like you’re about to let him go unscathed for the next few hours while he smells like this.

“But— but our date tonight, baby . . .”

“You own the restaurant. Figure it out, handsome.”

reblogs ++ comments are greatly appreciated !! ꒰ ˆ ᗜ ˆ ˶ ꒱

© property of mikiruie 2025. all rights reserved.

taglist form

[mythmash]

LA Wildfire Resources

this is a collection of all of the information and resources i've found to help those affected by the los angeles count wildfires. this is not a completed list, and you are welcome to send me an ask with any additional links, fundraisers, information, or other resources that you know of and i will update this post accordingly. if there are any missing or incorrect links, please let me know. stay safe out there 💜

──────────────────────────────────────────

Live Updates on the Southern California wildfires & Evacuation Orders

LA Scanner - Coverage of Pursuits, Crimes, Wildfires and More.

2025 Los Angeles Fires - Resources for Californians impacted by Los Angeles Fires.

LA Wildfire Resource Center - Resource navigator for finding emergency resources and support services.

──────────────────────────────────────────

Mutual Aid Los Angeles & their Fire & Wind Storm Spreadsheet - An ongoing spreadsheet of resources such as shelter info, animal boarding info, addresses for distribution centers, volunteer opportunities, etc.

LAFD Emergency Funding Alert & Fire Zone Map - Donations to help support the Los Angeles Fire Department.

The Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies - Lists of evacuation shelters and hotlines for those who are disabled and in impacted by the fires.

Los Angeles Regional Food Bank

Thread of mutual aid groups assisting through Los Angeles

CleanAirLA & MaskBloc LA - Mutual aid project to distribute free masks and respirators in the so-called Los Angeles area. They are currently taking donations for masks.

MaskBloc LA & their Mask Requests and Volunteer Interest - A form to fill out if you need masks or want to volunteer.

List of shelters, animal boarding, distribution hubs, and free items

Pacsun providng clothes and listing organizations to donate to

World Central Kitchen - Donate to support their efforts in Southern California to support first responders and families impacted by wildfires in the Los Angeles area.

Thread of organizations to donate to - Thread including links to disaster relief, firefighter aid, food banks, first responders, etc.

SoCal Wildfires: How You Can Help - Article including links and info for Californians. Links are also included in the Thread of organizations to donate to above.

Pete and Thomas Foundation supporting Pasadena Humane & LA Animal Care - How to support, injured wildlife hotline, and listed shelters for large and small animals.

Thread of GoFundMes to support people affected by the wildfires

What to keep in a grab & go bag - List of things to keep in a easily accessible bag in case of emergency evacuation.

Displaced Black Families GoFund Me Directory - Spreadsheet dedicated to black families devastated by the Altadena fires.

Advice from a survivor of the 2017 Thomas Fire on insurance, rebuilding, etc.

California Volunteers - Donate, organize, and volunteer for wildfire recovery here.

Baby2Baby Disaster Relief and Emergency Response Program - Donate to help distribute supplies to children impacted by the wildfires.

Guitar Center is replacing instruments lost as a result of the LA wildfires

Sunny Optometry is offering support to those in need of glasses, contact lenses, eye drops, face masks, and wi-fi

Stratia is offering a free place to work if you need a work space with wifi right now, and donation drop off/sorting + storage site for people who organize.

Seconds Market & their Match Donation Program - A program designed to directly connect donors with individuals affected by the LA fires.

Anti-Recidivism Coalition & their donation page - Donate to help support the incarcerated fire crews, including the 30 young men from Pine Grove currently out fighting the LA fires.

Spreadsheet of Free Mental Health Services for the LA Wildfire Crisis

Tips from an attorney on dealing with insurance companies

County of LA Vital and Property Records Access - LA County residents directly impacted by the fires can request property and vital records free of charge to help with recovery efforts.

Azay in Little Tokyo, LA - Donate to help provide free meals to evacuees, first responders, volunteers, folks who can’t leave their homes, and their houseless neighbors.

[serxa]

THE PRINCE HAS TO LEARN THE HARD WAY—PART 3—THIRTEEN

PART 1 PART 2

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: It's Telemachus' last day with Y/n. Yet he absolutely failed making his time with her worth.

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Telemachus

Sorry if this took SOOO long to post, Wattpad has been bugging recently, and yes, I write in wattpad but post it here. Thank you for all the support:)

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 Telemachus had been working for Y/n's family business. When Y/n's father started to notice that he was finally getting good at pottery, even learning the clay animals thanks to Y/n, he decided he'll let him work for one more day until he sends him off.

But Telemachus doesn't know that today was his last day of work. He happily walked towards the market, with his bag of scrolls and parchment that had all of the sales he had made the past few weeks he has been working for Y/n's family business.

When he met up with Y/n, oh God's how he thought she was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. But Y/n doesn't know anything about Telemachus' feelings. Hell, not even Telemachus knows for himself. He denies it, saying she's just a work colleague... She's a lot oblivious than she really is. "Morning, Tel." Y/n waved at him while he walked over.

He felt a weight on his shoulder suddenly disappear and waved back. "Morning Y/n." He smiled softly and they started walking to the shop to open up. Telemachus choice to work early and to get off the same time Y/n does too, which did make Penelope and Y/n's parents cock an eyebrow at him, but they just agreed.

"Could you open the shutters for me?" Y/n sighed, stretching a bit. She's different from the normal girls here in Ithica. Almost every woman is wearing chitons and doesn't help in shops, yet, Y/n is an amazing person with pottery and sculpting, working at her parents shop, and wearing a tunic and their long sleeve uniforms.

"Yeah, of course." Telemachus murmured before opening the draped and shutters. They started unpacking the stuff, putting them back onto the shelves, tracking what's the hottest deals, counting how many left are in stock and if they need to sculpt. "I'm so.. Tired." Y/n murmured, yawning as she stretched back once again.

"What time did you sleep?" Telemachus asked as he carefully unpacked the glass swan he was holding. "A bit late than usual.." She answered as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her palm. Telemachus smiled softly at the look of her sleepy state. "Need, I don't know, coffee? After unpacking we could get a cup and go back here.." Telemachus offered as he put the storage box away. Y/n thought about the offer and smiled, nodding. "Yeah, sure.." She agreed, as she started to help unpack.

As the two did their own business, Y/n's father appeared and started to have a bit of small talk with them, before he looked over at Telemachus. "Boy, it's your last day, me and your mother agreed on it. We saw that you have been a good help here in the shop, and I think you've paid much more than enough for your debt here." He smiled at Telemachus.

When Telemachus heard her father's statement, he suddenly felt a weight of his shoulders add, his shoulder sagging a bit. When he was finally getting attached to the shop, loving pottery, enjoying waking up early, and being her, oh especially being with her. He glanced over at Y/n who was also staring at him. "O-Oh, uh.." He turned his eyes back to Y/n's father. "Yeah, thank you for letting me know." Telemachus forced a smile.

Once Y/n's father left, ne continued to unpack. "Is there anymore boxes?" He asked Y/n, who was starting to open the drums of clay. "Uhh.." She turned her head to see nothing but empty storage boxes. "None, so.. About that coffee." She smiled at Telemachus, that practically made him weak to the knees and toes.

"Oh, still want to grab a cup?" He smiled, and she immediately nodded, taking her small pouch of money. As they walked through the market, since the coffee grounds and coffee shops were at the very end, Telemachus noticed how weary Y/n was today.

She was limply walking as she counted her money. "Everything alright?" Telemachus asked, putting his hands in his pocket as they walked with a small distance between them. "Yeah, just tired.." She murmured, which Telemachus still didn't believe, but didn't want to push her too much.

He started to lean closer as they continued walking, and Y/n catched on. She hooked her arm around his and rested her head on his shoulder, which made Telemachus feel a sort of giddy inside him, but he quickly shoved it away. 'This is just to help her..' He reminded himself as they reach the small coffee and tea shop.

Y/n took her arm away from Telemachus' and ordered two cups of coffee for them. As they waited Telemachus was whistling, a new skill he actually learned a day ago. "Didn't know you could whistle." Y/n suddenly commented, which made him stop and smile sheepishly. "Yeaaah just.. Learned a new trick."

"New trick? Are you a dog? It's skill." Y/n corrected him. Telemachus was used to Y/n correcting him like this, but there are times where they both act dumb which they ask her parents for help then. "Right, skill." Telemachus nodded and they got their cup of coffee.

They sat on the small tables outside of the standee and started to drink their coffee. "I love their coffee, it a different flavor." Y/n admired the cup of coffee while she kicked her legs from under the table. "It has a zest to it." Telemachus stated as he blew the coffee to cool it down. "I know! That's why I love it." Y/n said happily, her charismatic and energetic side showing again.

"There's that energy." Telemachus raised his eyebrows, smiling at Y/n as he watched Y/n get her energy back. "Well, a good cup of coffee is what a simple person like me needs to get the day started." She said proudly. "Woah woah, too many syllables." Telemachus teased as he raised his hands playfully, making Y/n scoff and chuckle. "I'm sorry that your teeny tiny brain can't comprehend more than 16 syllables in one statement." She retorted with a teasing smirk.

Telemachus sipped his coffee and rolled his eyes playfully. "Hey, I can comprehend! I can comprehend good." He laughed and Y/n couldn't help but laugh also. Once they finishes their cup of coffee, and started walking back to the shop, they saw the other standee's and shops start to open also, restocking, opening shutters, all of that.

When they were back in the shop, up and running, Telemachus was practicing how to mold clay animals as Y/n read a book, both of them waiting for rush hour, where all of the sales pile in. Y/n looked up at Telemachus, watching as his eyebrows knit together as he carefully sculpted the play, wearing their uniforms and his hair tousled. He kept a serious expression, really all his attention on the sculpting clay in his hands, carefully holding it, not squeezing it or anything, just carefully holding it so it would turn out good.

Y/n turned her attention back to her book, shaking her head a bit as to remind herself about what she was reading. After a while, the customers started to pile in, and the two worked diligently with their tasks. Meanwhile, in Telemachus' head, was just one thing. Today was his last day of work. He won't be able to see Y/n unless he goes to the market, but he doesn't want to be obvious also!

He served one customer and once they left, he started to turn a plan in his head, the years turning with a crinking sound with each turn, trying to form a plan on how to spend time with her. It's already twelve in the afternoon, Y/n's parents giving the two food and as they ate, Telemachus was trying to find a reason to continue working here. It's hardest to explain to his mother, Penelope, especially that he doesn't want his mother to know or at least expect he likes someone now.

Does he even like her? He was in a spiral, not even getting his own feelings, how is Y/n able going to comprehend them? He sighed before taking a big bite of food before looking up at Y/n, who was starting to talk about her book. Telemachus smiled softly, humming after every statement, indicating that she was listening to her yapping. "But the author only made this book! It's annoying, only this? Their writing is ethereal!" She rambled, making Telemachus chuckle softly as he watched her grumble over the book.

"Maybe I could read it also once your done.." He murmured. "I mean, sure, you can. Only if I'm done." She smiled and Telemachus nodded in agreement. "Deal?" He raised his hand for a hand shake, which she gladly took. Telemachus couldn't help but think about how soft her hands were, like you just put ten pounds of lotion on their hands, and how warm her hands were.

Y/n on the other hand, couldn't help but think how soft his hand were also. And how bigger they were compared to hers. His hand was skinny and lean also, just like him, but his fingers were long and could easily clasp around her entire hand. Once they pulled away and continued eating, Telemachus could feel his cheeks burn a bit, indicating he was blushing. He quickly got rid of it before Y/n could notice his blush.

"The delas set, you're reading the book after I do and you're going to talk to me all about it!" She giggled, making Telemachus smile, knowing that Y/n also wants to continue talking to him even though he wouldn't be working there anymore. "Mhm." He took another spoonful of food, bringing it up to his mouth and ate it, watching as Y/n did that same. The two were finally starting to warm up to eachother..

Once the clock ticked three in the afternoon, Telemachus knew it was time for his out from work. He hadn't formulated a decent plan that wouldn't get him into too much trouble, so he just decided to let go and stop working, his contract was off and he wasn't sure if they we're even finding a new employee. And gosh, how shy he was to go back here everyday just to spend time with Y/n, its a stupid thing, really. He's just making it look like he likes her...

As he took the boxes from the storage room to unpack all of the vases and animals, he looked over at Y/n. "So how's your last day? Feeling happy that you're finally out of this hell hole?" She smirked as she leaned on the table, watching as he unpacked, placing the work of arts in the boxes for future sellings.

"Actually, I might miss it." He shrugged. "I know I don't get paid, nor I haven't even stayed here for more than 2 months, but I gotten used to how we do stuff around here. And our morning coffees. Lunches with you.. Free time with you. Y'know?" He chuckled awkwardly after realizing that he was rambling about you, wishing you don't catch on and think that he likes you, cause even he wasn't sure if he did. "Huh, really?" She said, propping herself on her palms, her tone dripping with tease.

"Hey, don't tease me now." He chuckled, making her grin. "I apologize, Prince of Ithica." She said softly, knowing she would have to start using that title once again. "Pssh, hearing that from you is a new thing." He chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "What? It's true though." She giggled as Telemachus put the boxes back in the storage room.

"But hearing it form you is new.." He hummed, taking his bag, knowing that this might be their last conversation before he hides himself in his room, too scared to even look at her, knowing his feelings would just drive him into the biggest spiral mess he has ever been in before. Simply just by looking at her, makes him think that he likes you. But he also knows that he doesn't. But knowing that he likes you, also makes him remember he doesn't like you. It's really confusing, for him also.

He just wanted to nestle inside of his room and never look at her ever again. How is he going to ever explain this to her is he decided to confess? Does he need to get his shit and thoughts straight? He doesn't want to hurt her with false hope.. Suddenly, a snap made him shake his head, coming back to reality. "Huh?" He blinked, as he saw a confused Y/n in front of him, still leaning on the table she was leaning to earlier.

"You going home now?" She asked, tapping the table as she had a soft frown on her face. "Oh.. Uh-.. Yeah, I do. I-I am, sorry." He turned pink as he stumbled on his words. Y/n smiled softly and nodded. "Alright, so.. Let's go and close." She said softly taking the keys and her bag. As they closed the shutters and put back the drapes, Y/n suddenly felt a sense of longing. She didn't want to see Telemachus leave yet. Everything was so confusing.

"Uh.. I'll see you... Whenever I see you?" Telemachus said awkwardly, making Y/n's shoulders sag a bit as she realized that Telemachus wasn't planning on seeing her tomorrow. "Ah.. Uh, yeah.. Yeah, see you whenever I see you." She repeated, forcing a soft smile he normally gives him. Telemachus nodded and looked around before his eyes travelled back to you. "Bye.." He murmured.

"Bye."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

After a few days after Telemachus' last day, it was all so boring, no one to hang out with any more, and no more reason to wake up early again.

"It's been a while since you and Y/n have talked. You aren't going out of the house much again." Penelope said as Telemachus was hanging out in his parents room, as Penelope weaved a shroud. Telemachus suddenly froze at the mention of her name.

Y/n, the girl who was messing with his head. He never knew what love felt like. Is it supposed to make your her at ache or make you confused? Is it supposed to be annoyingly stubborn and never leave your head? How he feels about Y/n, gosh he just admits it, he likes her. He likes Y/n. How he misses his mornings, noons and nights with her, how the two talk about their interests and later on find out that you two both like that one topic. He loves how her eyes lights up when she see's him walking towards the market, how she leans on a nearby wall, table or chair as she watches Telemachus work...

How... Pretty she is.

Telemachus cleared his throat and started. "... I just... I just w. Have something in my head about Y/n." He started off, making Penelope curious. "That is..?" She waited as she continued weaving. "... I may or may not be developing big feelings for her, like big big, like big that I want to he with her. As a.. Partner.." He rambled. Making Penelope raise her eyebrows. Seeing Telemachus in love is not normal, he had always been busy protecting his mother from the suitors, being by her side as they longed for Odysseus to get home, so seeing him Inlove, is a crazy scenario.

"It's just.. She's so diligent. So hard working, she could serve up to 10 customers at once and could do pottery and sculpting. Gosh, in a span of short weeks, she managed to teach me how to do pottery... And how pretty she is, her eyes soften when she looks at me, her smile is so perfect with every crease and dimple forming on her cheeks and chin, even the side of her eyes creases when she smiled, her nose scrunching up when she's focused,she's like a rabbit, I swear, she's adorable." He rambled to his mother, covering his face as he groaned in his hands.

Penelope chuckled softly and hummed, looking at his now, lovesick son. "... You know... You could take the risk to be with her.. See if she likes you back." Penelope reassured her son as she counted the strings and skeins of yarn for her shroud. "I just.. I need time. I can turn my face towards her just yet, I need to let my feelings straight. Thanks mother." He sighed, standing up. "It's a good idea for making sure first." She hummed. When she saw Telemachus stand up, she cleared her throat. "Bye now, Telemachus." She smiled softly and he just waved goodbye. "Bye mother."

Fun fact, I wrote the last paragraph half asleep, so I apologize if it sounds nonsense

[velvetures]

Vulnerable pt.1?

A/N: A not-so-little thing I've had for a few weeks, and wanted to see if a part two was something anyone would be interested in reading. If so, please let me know. Summary: You try and get Ghost to relax after a harsh mission and find a bit of a quiet moment. T/W: not proofread :)

Bad intel led to you and your Lieutenant being nearly hunted down and killed by a not-so-small group of arms dealers who caught on quickly to the pair of foreigners lingering just a little bit too close to their sheltered storage garage right in the middle of a market district in the South East. The task force assumed sending in an entire squad would be overkill just for some simple recon information and decided that you and Ghost would be the perfect pair for the job. ‘In and Out…’ Price had said quite offhandedly, sliding the prepared information in two files across the table to you. Only Price’s sources hadn’t double-checked if the area was secure enough for them to enter without full backup on standby. Not necessarily a lethal kind of mistake when bringing you and the Lieutenant into the equation, but there were too many close calls and stray bullets that were clearly heard for either of you to feel super confident in getting away unscathed.

Your only savior was a small farmhouse that had been recently abandoned due to the illegal and dangerous activity that had been surrounding the small city. Modest in size with two bedrooms and running water. Perfect for a makeshift safe house to keep the trackers off your asses until an extraction could be arranged and put into motion. Contrary to belief, the 141 didn’t have the bottomless pit of resources everyone believed they had at their disposal. Which included access to evac and trained air-support teams. This wasn’t a big mission that had a lot of working parts and multiple organizations involved that had enough liquidated funds to through out for a helo and heavy gunners to rescue two operators from the middle of who-the-fuck-knows-where.

That means with busted equipment, inoperable comms, hardly enough ammunition to fight out of a wet paper bag, and zero way of knowing when and if you’d be rescued, there was nothing left to do but try and relax in one of the most difficult predicaments. It left you searching through cabinets for maybe some kind of food to keep the both of you while Ghost did one of his favorite things. Pacing the house from window to window looking for the slightest bit of movement. The trouble being, there wasn’t anything for at least two miles in any direction. The people who owned this place were farmers of some sort, and had placed their home right in the middle of crop fields that gave a very advantageous sightline. While that information gave you quite a bit of comfort, it was not effecting Ghost positively in the slightest.

Your relationship with the Lieutenant was complex, to say the least. When you were first introduced it was for a succession of short co-op missions that were nothing if not brief and very impersonal leaving you with more questions than answers about the man who stayed hidden under the mask. Through some talks that you hadn’t been privy to being in the room for, John Price decided that your skills would be more useful to Task Force 141 than for the U.S. Division of Clandestine Service and offered you a position that you couldn’t possibly decline.

By day-in and day-out contact with Ghost, you got a lot more comfortable with him and learned much of his little idiosyncratic behaviors. Maybe a little too well…. He didn’t particularly act much differently towards you in the grand scheme of things, but something in you felt like trust had been developed to where he could depend on you when the situation called for it.

“Go hit the rack, I’ll take first watch.” He called gruffly from the living room where he had moved a chair from the kitchen to sit facing the front door head on with his MP5 resting lazily on his chest.

You couldn’t help but notice just how damn tired he looked under all that gear and through the black smeared around his eyes. He couldn’t be carrying less than one hundred pounds on him right now; even sitting in that chair with it wasn’t a good enough solution. Let you take a moment or two for yourself, stripping out of your tac vest and heavily weighted gear to drop it on top of the kitchen counter with a little grunt. Two days ago you both got the luxury of sleeping, and since then it’s been nothing but being on the run.

This would be the safest place for you that wasn’t in the belly of an evac bird, and the thought of Ghost not taking the time to sleep sat in your mind like a lead sinker. Leaning against the doorway and watching him for a long moment, you start having thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Ones that normally wouldn’t surface if you’d been able to separate working with Ghost from the more personal aspect of literally sharing almost every part of your life with him. Thoughts about how you could make him feel better… even if just for the night. That no one was around for miles and whatever happened could safely stay between the pair of you.

By utter carelessness of your position with the team or lack of fear about how the Lieutenant might respond, you walk into the living room and kneel down right in front of him with your fingers reaching out to unlace his dusty boots. Off instinct alone, you expected and watched as his foot flinched away from you. His whole body jumps and stiffens at the contact and sight of you kneeling on the floor. He quickly pauses and collects himself, taking several moments before his gravelly voice breaks the silence.

“What’re you doin’ Sergeant?” His eyes grew heavy and showed more expression than the rest of his massive body as they flashed with confusion and a little swell of anger. That aloofness didn’t hide that slight guardedness of something that made him uncomfortable in one way or another.

“I’m perfectly capable of takin’ care of my fuckin’ self.” He adds with zero discernible sign of either offense or gratitude. You can’t help but smile tiredly, feeling like you’re attempting to soothe a feral wolf into letting you pull it’s paw out of trap.

“I never said you couldn’t L.T.,” You reply gently, reaching back to start unhooking the laces from their claws on his left foot. “Just thought you couldn’t use some affection.” Smirking to yourself, you can’t help but think something this small being considered ‘affection’ didn’t fit anyone save for Ghost. He was just too hard to approach. Walls so thick and tall that it would take someone with patience beyond that of a human to break through and see what rested behind all of that brash posturing and icy disposition.

“You know affection is something I’m averse to,” he utters, watching yet making no effort to stop you. “What you’re doin’ is unnecessary.” A small sound close to a growl escapes from behind the mask when my hand reaches to the back of his leg to help aid my effort of pulling his boot off.

Chuckling softly and sitting the boot down at your side you respond, “I know you don’t like affection,” You’re already working on the other one, purposefully moving slowly as not to overwhelm or spook him. “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it, L.T..” You can’t help but look up at him almost exhaustedly yet still trying to be reassuring.

“M’fine without it.” He spits out quickly, looking away from your face back down to your progress on the laces, his masked face otherwise unreadable. “Didn’t ask you for this shit, Sergeant.” Tinged with an undercurrent of irritation his deep voice sounds near the bridge of turning to anger.

“Mothering me isn’t in your best interest.” He growls low and threateningly in your face as he bends down to grab the boot sitting next to you and giving it a quick look of observation before sitting it back down closer to him. You just finish taking off his other boot and sit it down next to the other without much more of a verbal fight and put a hand on his thigh to steady your sore legs as you get back up to your feet.

“I’m younger than you Ghost, I can’t mother you.” You reply, holding out your hand for him.

He doesn’t make note or stop you from using him to help yourself up, however, Ghost follows your movements carefully… closely. He’s doing everything in his power to hide his emotions, but there’s still a faint twitch of his lips when he looks down at his boots sitting at his side. You’d done something very unusual, and he knew berating you was what he should’ve done. Yet a flinch of a smile was what really moved Ghost’s mouth. It’s gone before it even surfaces, pushed down by the sight. of you holding out your little hand in front of him. The sounds of his deep breathing fill the quiet house as you both sit there unflinching of each other. The Lieutenant shifts in his chair, readjusting his rifle on his chest.

“Go to bed. It’s late.” His repeated command felt softer now. Wavering a bit with you hand still held out and your fingers wiggling a little.

“Come on,” You hold steady and patient.

Reward comes in the form of feeling Ghost’s heavy and large hand falling into yours and gripping just hard enough to allow you the phantom sensation that you’re actually helping him up from the chair, hearing a short grunt as his back straightens up. Without explanation, you lead the Lieutenant through the small house back towards the only bedroom in the house with an actual bed left behind by the owners, pulling him to the center of the room and turning around to face him.

“Put your arms up for me.”

“Excuse me?” Ghost’s frown can be heard from behind the mask. Despite his apparent bewilderment, he hesitantly obeys, extending his arms above his head with an exhale of a tense breath, looking down at you with dark and questioning eyes. “What are you doing now?”

You just smile and hum to yourself softly, reaching out to begin unclipping and unzipping the sections of his tac vest holding it on his upper body and the multiple ammo belts. Carefully draping them over you shoulder as you release his body from them one by one. Seeing the way Ghost’s body sinks into itself with the weight being pulled off after days without rest. You feel his eyes scan over you, over your hands finding ways to take off his gear for the first time in your life, feeling your way through sunch an unusual yet careful act.

“Bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous…” He growls, covering up the feelings of not being so concealed by barking at you a little.

“Shhh.” Your hush does enough to stop his quiet and brooding complaints.

Long enough for you to kneel back down at his feet and work at the thigh straps over his pants and even remove the ankle holster you’d left alone while taking off his boots. He doesn’t resist this part, just watching you undress him bit by bit with half a mind questioning just what had happened for you to start acting so strangely. You’d always been sweet. Much nicer than your job allowed for. Yet even this was quite off the edge of the character Ghost had built for you over the years. This felt downright intimate for just two operators to be doing.

Then again your shared situation wasn’t exactly one of professionalism at this point. You’d been improvising for nearly a full day just trying to stay alive. Once back on your feet, you take hold of his hand again, this time with a little less caution since you’d already touched him there, and begin pulling at the fingertips to slide his sand and dirt-cakes gloves off. Even seeing his bare skin under his gloves be seen in the dim lamplight of the house, Ghost doesn’t do more than flex his fingers once you’ve rid him of the stiff material.

Purposefully avoiding his mask, you get Ghost down to nothing more than boxers and a t-shirt, even with his help at certain parts without him growling more or acting like you were irritating him. While he still gave off a feeling of all-around grumpiness and more than a little confused as hell, you paid it no mind as you led him towards the edge of the bed and pointed to it with a short yet polite command for him to ’sit’. Right away you noticed his hesitation and the way that his shoulders and arms tensed, his attention solely on you, flashing between your eyes and mouth like he was trying to reassure himself that he’d heard you correctly. But with one small tug on his hand, he turns around and sits on the bed with his feet resting on the floor and his arms braced on both sides of him a little stiffly.

“Now what?” His voice held a bit of rasp to it as he tracked your movement from his side, seeing you climb up into the bed and position yourself on your knees behind him. The close proximity didn’t go unnoticed by the Lieutenant as he cleared his throat, once again interrupting the calm silence in the house. His tension filled the small space between you, heating the gap of air, almost electrifying it.

“Just relax Ghost.” Easily touching his shoulders, you begin working your palms flat against the slopes of his muscled neck.

Purposefully but gently rubbing at the stiff cords of muscle and introducing the sensation to him as easily as possible in the case that it was a bit too overwhelming for him all at once. You knew you’d pushed the boundaries with him much further past anything you’d expected to achieve in one night. But now that he was sitting here in front of you, it was hard not to smile brightly that he was trusting you so much. Allowing your hands to be on him. Accepting that you had positioned the both of you in a very vulnerable position that could lead to a lot more violent options than affectionate ones. Torture and nightmares had given more than a fair share to Ghost, yet he was patiently staving off his own clear hesitation so that you could play out whatever this was turning out to be.

Your command went unacknowledged just like all of Ghost’s from earlier had; His breathing steadily slowing down into a deep and rich, relaxed sort of rhythm. Power of your hands and calming attitude worked faster than you anticipated, leaving the massive man sitting between your thighs begin to release. Tension falling out of his body not only under your hands but by sight of his jaw loosening. You’re even lucky enough to spot him trying to take glances at you from the corner of his eye, only to look back ahead since you were in quite the blindspot. Taking your thumbs in a sweeping motion from the edges of his shoulders inward, you apply pressure on the back of his neck and experimentally reach higher up under the hem of his mask. A dangerous game to play. Rumbling sounds of appreciation filling your ears are better than any sort of medal you could earn or bet you’d ever cash in. His head rolls back slightly with each small circle of your thumbs and fingers, pushing against you. Silently asking for more pressure.

“Feel good?” You ask at just a whisper, not wanting to disturb the warm sort of feeling the room has right now by speaking too loud.

Under the safety of his mask, Ghost’s mouth curves into a smile hearing you. He rolls his head back again, arching slightly to accommodate your small hands struggling to find good purchase to keep working at the intensity he’d been hinting at. A much less controllable sound escapes his mouth when you begin working at a very sore spot he didn’t even know was present right at the base of his skull.

“Keep going,” His sleepy-sounding mutter makes your chest ache.

Grinning at the feeling of his harsh accent and sudden domestication you work away diligently down his back carefully and methodically so as to not miss a single thing. And while it’s not necessarily going to help him much, you go ahead and use your fingernails to gently scratch up and down. It’s then a groan interrupts your focus and you see Ghost shift on the edge of the bed. Believing you’d found the end of your time, you leaned back on your heels and expected him to get up and leave you in the bedroom alone. Watching him tug at his t-shirt and pull it over his head to toss it somewhere across the room was how you were told that Ghost did indeed want more. Only his shirt was getting in the way of something he wasn’t getting.

Hearing him give a deep sigh when your fingertips returned to his now bared skin gave you a rush of adrenaline and nearly caused you to wiggle happily that you’d been able to share this with Ghost. He leans back into you a little more, letting your hands and arms take more of the weight as he groans out;

“You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, but not for a long time.” You answer, eyes smoothing over the muscles rippling as your hands work at them.

“You’re good,” He grunts, closing his eyes and zeroing in on how to focus his attention between your small hands working so efficiently and the conversation he’d begun. “How’d you get so good at it?” His head turns a little, trying to get at least one good look at you. He keeps shifting now, allowing him to keep you just in the edge of his periphery.

“Had a good teacher for a few years,” You answer, working in tight circles over a large ball of muscle fibers all collected just at the edge of his shoulder blade, earning another growling sound from the Lieutenant.

“Teacher? When?” He asks, giving a slow release of a deep breath giving a short indication that the muscle you’d been working to release was getting a bit uncomfortable. Pulling back for a moment just to give him and your hands a break, you hear him make a noise then lean back a little further, pressing his back against you almost like a dog wanting to be pet more.

“Don’t stop.” He requests in a husky tone. You chuckle aloud, returning your hands and taking a less aggressive approach by smoothing your palms over him in less-than-planned patterns, just enjoying feeling his tattooed and scarred skin under your hands as you think about how to answer him.

“A woman in London taught me,” you start, using your nails again on his skin softly. “In the year or so between my U.S. military discharge and acceptance into the task force with you.” You see the effect of your touch on Ghost as it takes him longer to respond and the way he keeps leaning more and more weight back into you, unable to keep himself from subconsciously trying to get closer. Wanting more whether he’d ever admit it or not. There’s no mistaking it between either of you, he’s enjoying this.

“I assume she was special to you.”

It was your neighbor just across the hallway from you. An older woman named Sarah. Eccentric in modern times, you’d always believed she must’ve been a force to be reckoned with when she wasn’t hindered by an aging body and an even more ailing mind. A massage therapist by trade, and a pianist by heart there wasn’t much that Sarah could accomplish without someone helping her once she became limited in movement living on the eighth floor of the apartment building you shared. Back then you didn’t have much in the way of contacts after leaving the country, and it led to a friendship with the old woman living across from you. Sharing stories, eating dinner together, grocery shopping together when she felt like going out, and trading some skills between each other. After telling Ghost this much with your fingers tracing out letters and shapes over his back, you can sense he’s listening carefully. And Ghost is feeling a slight fuzzy sensation building in the back of his brain, spreading out in a warm wave down to his fingertips and toes.

“She taught me massage since at the time I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my life.” Your head falls to the side, examining how the lamplight shines on ghost and deepens the already significant definition in his physique.

Ghost falls against you even more, and this time he lets his head fall back against you. Trying to counterbalance his weight and keep both of you from falling backwards with just him limp he’s becoming, you wrap on arm around his neck and hold his head in the bend of your arm. He gives another sigh, and settles against you heavily. He. looks at you in silence out of the corner of his eye listening to your explanation.

“Why was she your only friend?” You can’t help but chuckle at his question, resting your chin on his opposite shoulder and bringing your other arm under his to begin scratching and rubbing at his chest, feeling deep and puckered scars littering nearly every inch of him.

“I didn’t know anyone else. And you know me well enough to know that I’m not exactly extroverted.” You smile, tracing lightly up and down his well-defined arm. Ghost couldn’t be more comfortable laid against you.

“Sorry to hear that.” His voice low and husky with his mouth so close to your ear. “She must call or ask about you…”

You shake your head. “No. She died just before I joined you all. Her mind was… failing her. And there was some kind of accident in the middle of the night The police told me she was likely trying to get to the bathroom and fell. She apparently died on impact… they didn’t say what, but I think her head hit something.” You explain quietly. “And you and I both know that means lights out. So she didn’t suffer.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he answers as softly as he can manage after hearing the darker part of your happy memories. “How did it become… intimate, like this?” He asks, nodding to the way you were leaned up against his back with your hand tracing over every inch of him that you could reach. The longer you’ve both let this go, the more boundaries get pushed further out of reach, making it hard for either of you to really know where it could end.

You smile with a blush creeping up your neck onto your cheeks, thankful you’re somewhat hidden out of sight. “This isn’t really what she taught me,” You mutter a bit quiet. “When i was massaging you… yes. That I got taught. But this, it’s… just me.”

Out of your sight Ghost’s face flushes slightly as well, his cheeks a warm rose-color. You’re touching him in a way that he’d never expected. But hearing that you’re not just doing it for… relaxation, it’s a heavy but welcome thought. And Ghost can’t help that his body reacts to it with chills raising all over his skin despite the house being perfectly warm. He lets out a deep breath focusing on your words, repeating him over just to ensure that you’re not saying it one way and him interpreting it differently due to your hands being all over him, making him feel so good. Mind racing, heart pounding, he truly realizes just how vulnerable he is under you at this moment.

“I can stop if you’d like?” You offer, preparing to move away from him.

“No,” His hoarse voice gives away his sudden dry mouth. No matter how much your touch is affecting his body, he’s not willing to stop you right now. You’ve crossed into a level of trust that he can’t think to make you abide by anymore. It’s a foreign feeling for him, but he wants to push through it. Hoping he can feel more of you if he just holds on a little longer to this.

“Don’t stop."

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated <3

[pukefactory]

rebel cookie x reader PLEASE 🙏🙏

︵‿୨ THIEF OF LOVE ୧‿︵

೯ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring Rebel Cookie X Reader

೯ Character(s): Rebel Cookie (Cookie Run)

೯ Genre: Headcannons, SFW

೯ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

೯ Image Credits: @candy—hrts (Tumblr refuses to let me tag)

ᰋ The first time Rebel Cookie met you, he mistook you for a corrupt official’s lackey and almost stole from you. It wasn’t until he saw you handing out Jellies to hungry villagers that he realized you were just like him. From that day forward, he kept an eye on you, always swooping in with an extra bag of Jellies just for you.

ᰋ You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had to cover for him when the guards came too close. Whether it’s pretending to be a lost Cookie in need of directions or “accidentally” knocking over a market stall to cause a distraction, Rebel Cookie always grins at you afterward, winking as he vanishes into thin air.

ᰋ Whenever you’re exhausted, Rebel Cookie insists on carrying you on his enchanted cloud. “You’ve worked hard too,” he says, effortlessly lifting you up before you can protest. He enjoys showing you the view from above, pointing out the villages he’s helped and the ones that still need him.

ᰋ Some days, you’ll wake up and find a tiny straw doll on your windowsill—Rebel Cookie’s way of saying he was there while you were asleep. Sometimes it’s just a hello, but other times, it’s a warning: trouble is brewing, and he doesn’t want you caught in the middle.

ᰋ Seeing Rebel Cookie’s dedication to justice, you ask him to teach you how to defend yourself. At first, he chuckles, saying you shouldn’t have to fight, but when he sees the determination in your eyes, he relents. Training sessions become daily bonding time, filled with laughter, teasing, and the occasional moment where your hands brush against his Bō, sending a spark up both your arms.

ᰋ Rebel Cookie isn’t afraid of much, but he doesn’t like thunderstorms. Something about the loud crashes unsettles him, reminding him of a past he refuses to talk about. On stormy nights, he sneaks into your house and sits by your side, watching the rain with quiet eyes. He never asks for comfort, but you always offer it anyway.

ᰋ The villagers adore you almost as much as they adore Rebel Cookie. Whenever you visit a new town, elders pull you aside and whisper about how much brighter he’s become since meeting you. “He’s got more to fight for now,” they say knowingly, and though you brush it off, your heart pounds every time.

ᰋ Once, you got caught in a corrupt official’s trap while trying to warn Rebel Cookie of danger. You were locked in a storage house, and for the first time, he didn’t have a plan. When he finally burst in, panting and scraped up from fighting his way through, he pulled you into his arms and murmured, “I won’t let them take you from me.” It was the first time he ever let his fear show.

ᰋ Rebel Cookie loves sneaking you out of town for late-night adventures. Whether it’s running through the woods, stealing a moment of peace on a quiet hill, or teaching you how to ride his cloud, he treasures these moments more than he lets on. When you laugh freely, unburdened by the weight of the world, he feels like he’s done something right.

ᰋ “I fight for justice,” he always says. But one night, after a particularly close call, he grips your hands and whispers, “I fight for you too.” The world may still be unjust, but as long as he has you, he has something worth protecting.

[urbancreative]

Our 100 % pure hemp drawstring bags are versatile bags and can be used in the home ot outside for a low waste and plastic free lifestyle. These bags are  available in a range of sizes to suit a variety of needs. Use these bags for plastic free vegetable and grocery shopping and storage, as a bread bag, as a travel accessory, a laundry bag, a gift bag or to even store toys.

These durable bags are made in 100% pure medium weight ( 230 GMS ) hemp fabric in a variety of  sizes and solid earthy colours. The draw strings are made of 100% durable cotton tape.

[funnyjb]

Can I get a Joe Burrow imagine where his wife works in a hospital as a doctor and she had a tough day. Joe sees it when she comes home and he’s by her side when she tells him that she lost a patient at work.

You are an amazing writer!!!!

Hi yes of course!! Thank you🩷

……………………………………………………………………….

16 hours. 16 hours in the hospital. 16 hours running around and checking on patients. During those 16 hours you lost a patient. One that you have know for a pretty good time. It was hard. You had a moment in the storage closet, but you decided to finish out the work day and come home to Joe. All you wanted was to cuddle up in bed.

You locked your car and closed the garage door. Your feet ached. You were carrying your big bag, your lunch box, water bottle, and some files to look over. Your arm felt like it was about to come off.

As you stepped inside you took off your shoes disregarding them next to the cabinet near the door. Set your bags down and took your lunch box and water bottle to the kitchen. Then you saw Joe. He was sitting on the couch in his cream hoodie and Nike sweats.

Joe turned to look at you.

“Hey! How was your day?”- joe said as you sat your bags down.

You didn’t answer. As he asked that question you felt tear prickle in your eyes.

“Babe?”- Joe

He stands up and comes over.

“Hey, you ok?”- Joe opens his arms

You start to sob into his open warm arms.

“Shh…it’s ok. I’m right here.”- Joe

He runs his fingers through your hair.

“I..I lost a patient today.”- you

“Oh…I’m so sorry y/n. No one should experience that. What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”- Joe

“Um..she uh..she seized and it was too late.”- you cry

“I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault, you know that right? You did everything you could.”- Joe

You nod

“Let’s get you out of scrubs. Maybe take a hot shower? Then we can cuddle.”- joe

“Yeah. ok.”- you

You head upstairs.

Joe decided you need some space but also needed to do something to cheer you up.

Right when he heard the shower run he ran out the door and into his Porsche. He drove to the market not too far from you guys. He picked up some beautiful flowers that he thought reminded him of you. Some baby’s breath, pink roses, peonies, and some carnations. Along with a “it will be ok card” and obviously some chocolate.

He checked out and headed home.

When he stepped inside he could hear you upstairs. Probably finding some comfy clothes.

You came downstairs not shortly after to see a beautiful arrangement on the kitchen counter.

“Joe, did..did you do this?”- you ask

“Yeah. I wanted to cheer you up after such a hard day. I know this might not fix all the feelings about today but hopefully it will help out.”- joe smiles

“Joe. This is beautiful. Thank you, truly, thank you.”- you come up and give him a big hug

“Anything for my girl.”- joe kisses your head

………………………………………………………………………..

Hope you enjoyed!🩷

[galaxysupreme17]

An Unexpected Visitor (part 1 of 2)

Y/n = Your Name

AgathaRio x daughter!reader!

The Westview farmers' market was alive with vibrant energy, the sound of cheerful chatter mingling with the scent of fresh produce, baked goods, and blooming flowers. Agatha strolled leisurely with Rio and Y/n, savoring the rare moments of peace and quiet their lives allowed.

Y/n's dark brown curls caught the sunlight as they bounced with her every step. She looked effortlessly ethereal in a flowing, earth-toned dress that swirled around her ankles. A shawl embroidered with delicate floral patterns draped loosely over her shoulders, lending her an air of timeless elegance. She had returned home for spring break from college, missing home more than she thought she would. 

"Mama, I think we've bought enough honey to last us until the next millennium," Y/n teased, her arms laden with a basket overflowing with jars and small bags of herbs.

"Don't be ridiculous," Agatha replied, inspecting a bundle of lavender at a nearby stall. "It's not just for tea. Honey is a key ingredient for many spells, you know. Versatile, magical, delicious—what's not to love?"

Rio raised an eyebrow, smirking as she adjusted her sunglasses. "You said the same thing about the rosemary you insisted on buying last week. Have we even touched it since?"

Agatha gasped, clutching the lavender dramatically. "How dare you? Rosemary is sacred—an essential component of—"

"—of spells, you haven't cast yet," Rio finished, laughing softly.

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled, clearly used to their playful banter. "You two are why we always need extra storage in the kitchen." She adjusted the strap of her basket and stopped at a stall selling handmade jewelry.

"Don't get distracted, cariño," Rio said, her tone teasing but warm. "We still need to find those herbs for your potion practice."

Y/n waved her off with a grin. "I can multitask, Mom. Besides, if I don't get this shopping gene from one of you, I'll break the family tradition."

Agatha chuckled, reaching out to pluck a piece of fabric off a vendor's table. "Oh, darling, it's not a gene. It's an art form. You'll learn."

The three meandered through the market, often chatting with vendors or admiring handmade goods. It was a perfect afternoon, the kind of day that made Westview feel like a sanctuary.

But peace, as always, was fleeting.

As they rounded a corner near a stand selling potted herbs, Agatha froze. The jovial conversation around them dulled in her ears, replaced by a sudden, sharp awareness.

Rio noticed immediately. She placed a steadying hand on Agatha's arm. "Sweetheart, what is it?"

Agatha's lips parted, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the crowd. "A presence," she said quietly. "One I haven't felt in... centuries."

Before Rio could press further, a voice drifted through the air, silken and cold.

"Agatha."

The three of them turned toward the sound, and there he was—Magnus. He stood a short distance away, his piercing gaze fixed on Agatha. Time seemed to have barely touched him. His dark hair was slicked back, his angular features sharp, and his long black coat tailored perfectly to his lean frame.

"Agatha," he said again, stepping closer. His voice was smooth, almost disarmingly so. "It's been too long."

Agatha straightened, her body rigid with tension. "Not long enough."

Magnus's smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Is that any way to greet an old... acquaintance?" His gaze shifted, falling on Rio, then Y/n. His expression faltered briefly when his eyes landed on Y/n.

"And who is this?" he asked, his voice taking on a curious lilt. "Your... daughter?"

Y/n stepped closer to Rio, her shawl slipping slightly off her shoulder. She tilted her head, studying the stranger with cautious curiosity. "Who's asking?"

Magnus chuckled, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Fiery. Just like your mother." He turned his attention back to Agatha, his smile sharpening. "She's quite the image of you, Agatha. Except for those eyes... and that smile. Those aren't yours."

Rio stepped forward, her posture protective and her voice low. "Keep her name out of your mouth."

Magnus raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to Rio. "And you must be the infamous Rio Vidal. The one who stole Agatha away from her coven, her destiny."

Rio smirked, though her eyes were cold as steel. "And you must be the ex who didn't know how to take a hint."

Magnus's jaw tightened briefly before he forced his smile back into place. "Funny. I seem to recall Agatha and I having a bright future ahead of us before you meddled."

Agatha's voice was sharp as a blade. "Don't rewrite history, Magnus. You were a pawn, just like the rest of them."

Magnus's expression darkened. "And now? You've traded power and prestige for... this?" He gestured around at the bustling market, his disdain evident.

Agatha took a step forward, her chin held high. "I traded manipulation and control for freedom and family. Something you'll never understand."

Magnus's gaze flicked back to Y/n, lingering too long. "Freedom and family," he murmured. "How quaint. Tell me, Agatha, does she know who she is? What she's capable of?"

Y/n narrowed her eyes, stepping in front of her mothers. "I know enough. And I know I don't need to listen to you."

Magnus chuckled darkly. "Such spirit. We'll see how long that lasts." He looked at Agatha one final time. "This isn't over."

With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd as suddenly as he had appeared.

The car ride home was heavy with silence. Y/n sat in the back seat, her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Finally, she spoke, her voice breaking the tension.

"Who was that guy?"

Agatha sighed, glancing at Rio before answering. "His name is Magnus. He's... someone from my past. Someone I hoped I'd never see again."

Rio added her voice firm, "And someone who doesn't matter now. He's a relic of a life we left behind."

Y/n frowned. "He seemed pretty interested in me. Why?"

Agatha hesitated, her voice softening. "Because you're my daughter. And that makes you a target for people who think they can use you to get to me."

Y/n sat up straighter, her expression resolute. "I'm not scared of him. He doesn't know me."

Rio reached back, squeezing Y/n's hand. "Good. Because we're not letting him get near you. Ever."

Agatha glanced at Y/n through the rearview mirror, her voice trembling slightly. "I won't let him take anything from me. Not this time."

Rio's free hand found Agatha's, squeezing it tightly. "He won't. We won't let him."

And in the quiet strength of Rio's voice, Agatha found the courage to believe it.

That night, after Y/n had gone to bed, Rio found Agatha sitting in front of the fire, staring into the flames. She approached quietly, handing her a glass of wine before sitting beside her.

"You're blaming yourself," Rio said softly.

Agatha didn't look at her. "He's here because of me. Because of what I was. What I did."

Rio reached out, taking Agatha's hand in hers. "He's here because he's a bitter, entitled coward who doesn't know how to let go. That's not on you."

Agatha's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "He looked at Y/n like she was a prize. A way to... to claim the Harkness line."

Rio's grip tightened. "And we won't let him. You're not fighting him alone, Ags. I'm here. Always."

Agatha finally met her gaze, her voice trembling. "I don't deserve you."

Rio leaned in, pressing her forehead against Agatha's. "You deserve every bit of this family. And Magnus will learn the hard way that no one messes with what's ours."

The firelight danced in Agatha's eyes, and she felt hope for the first time that day. Together, they would protect Y/n. No matter what it took.

[tobylix-blog]

Gratitude - Aragorn x f!Reader

Content & Warnings: platonic, fluff(ish) Word count: 3.6k Summary: Aragorn returns to become a king and pay back for the kindness of a merchant's daughter, whom he has met during his past visit to Minas Tirith.

You open the store once again. The city is wrecked. The siege was barely three days ago. But the market is the first place to come back to life. As long as it's loud and busy the city lives. Your storage is filled. By some miracle no fire or stone has touched your street. You fix the door open and hang out a long piece of cloth - a sign that the store is working. You turn back to tidy up the shelves behind the counter when someone steps in. Judging by the sound of voices several people come in at once.

"A minute, gentlemen, I'm almost with you," you say over the shoulder, not quite looking at them yet.

The voices are quiet, and for a moment all is silent in the store. Then a loud thud comes. You turn to see a whole bag of coins on the counter as a rich, melodious voice sounds from among the men.

"My friends will need the finest clothes for the coronation and so will you, miss".

Your eyes slowly rise from the counter to the man speaking. His familiarity strikes as a low blow. His appearance changed drastically and yet hardly noticeably. He stands proud and is wearing fine clothing with the White tree of Gondor on it, but the gaze of his gray eyes is as piercing as before.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The street is busy with people. Morning rush in the market doesn't fade until noon when the sun gets just too high. Through dozens of conversations unfolding between merchants and customers bargaining over the goods, old friends who suddenly met in the middle of chaos and servants figuring out how to get it over with sooner, you hear a distinct male voice saying. "Get lost, outlander! Northerners are out of their mind if they think I will sell them even a piece of shit! Damn rangers."

You recognize the voice. The trader from the armory a few doors down the street. As threatening as he appears, he isn't usually that hostile to customers. From your point of view, two steps above the ground you can only see the dark hair of the man he scolds. Man is saying something back but his voice you can't quite hear. Instead a loud response comes from the inside of the armory.

"Put your silver up your thin arse! Get away from my store before I put a hammer through your head," this time it's the smith himself. You shiver a bit hearing his rough voice.

Stranger only stays in front of the armorer's shop for a moment before moving on. You finally see him fully when he appears from the crowd. Tall and dark-haired he doesn't seem all that different from men of Gondor. His clothes give away the fact that he is indeed a Ranger. You hear more sneers following him from the other side of the street where old men sell leather. Their tannery is actually a few streets down from here, but they still keep a display in the busiest part of the market. Unpleasant fellows. They even got in a quarrel with your father a few times trying to steal his customers. Probably that's why you take a step down from the door and call out to the stranger. There's no other explanation at all.

"Ranger! Come look at our fabrics. Best broadcloth in all Minas Tirith! Vast selection and best prices for you."

The Ranger stops, looks around for a moment, and seeing the wares through the open door makes his way down to look over them. He looks at the materials laid out on the counter over, fingers them, and seems intrigued by the selection. He reaches out to examine a particularly colorful one.

"You have a very good selection here. Are these local, or imported? They look very fine."

You may be only 13 years old, but you know the goods well. "These wools are gondorian. Look at the quality here. There are none like this anywhere in Arnor. I also suggest these linen fabrics delivered from Linhir," you say imitating your father's manner of speech.

The Ranger smiles faintly at seeing you so assured in your speech and so young. He looks over the wools and linens.

"Linhir, eh? Impressive that you get such high quality goods from so far away." He looks back at you with visible curiosity. "Are you the shop owner's daughter?"

"I am," you confirm and after a little pause pull a length of dyed linen from underneath the counter. "This one is rarely to anyone's liking but you seem to be fitting the description of 'not anyone', if I'm not mistaken. Take it. There's enough for a good shirt."

The Ranger smiles more broadly this time, and picks up the length of linen. He examines it thoroughly, and nods slowly.

"You've got a sharp eye, to guess that I'm someone who doesn't blend in, lass," he says with a touch of humor in his voice. "And this is definitely worth the coin. How much are you asking for it?"

You name the price. He rummages his pockets for a moment before cold coins drop heavy in your palm. "There's more than needed. I'll be right back…" you say and rush into the house. For a minute only some shuffling is heard. Then you return to the counter.

"Here," you tell the Ranger. "Change and well… everything."

You pass him a coin of change and a small bundle. The Ranger pockets the change, and then takes a look inside the wrap. After a moment, he smiles faintly again.

"Is it common practice for you to throw in a meal with your sales?" he asks, amused.

You feel blush creeping up your face. "If the tavern owners are half as hospitable as the blacksmiths are, you will need it."

The Ranger laughs at that, and his smile remains afterwards. "You've an excellent point, lass. The hospitality of tavern owners seems to be in constant decline. And I'm not sure about the blacksmiths either."

It's clear in his voice that he's jesting, though he is obviously remembering his earlier confrontation with the blacksmith. You watch him put on the hood of his cloak as he walks away blending in with the crowd. You don't remember much from the rest of that day, except for occasional sidelong glance from the leather men. No wonder you don't. It's been over eight years since then.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many thoughts arise at once, clouding your mind like a swarm. Yet they all are silenced by one phrase, that a dwarf says. "What is the meaning of this, Aragorn?" He says something else about how it's not the king's duty to walk from stall to stall, choosing fabrics, but it doesn't matter.

You slowly slide off the stool you were standing on, by some wonder landing on your feet and not gashing your knees against the wooden floor. The words are pounding in your head. Yes, that's right. People surrounding him are.. not exactly people. An elf, a dwarf and two hobbits. Just as the rumor has it. The king has friends of other races and folks.

Your body is stiff when you muster a bow to him. This tall man, Ranger you once met, turned out to be the last living heir to the throne. Some absolutely mad joke of fate that might be.

"It's an honor to see you here, my king. Though I must apologize for the disorder and lack of manner," you manage to utter finally.

He smiles faintly at your bow. "It's good to see you again, lass," he says, raising a hand to forestall any further apologies. "And there's no need to apologize. Your manner is fine, especially given the circumstances."

He leans forward a bit, eyes still sparkling with the faintest hint of mischief. "You seemed surprised just now when you saw me. As if you've seen a ghost walk into your shop."

"It isn't everyday that a faintly familiar ranger pays a visit… and happens to become a king, your majesty," you say. Your eyes dart from one of his companions to another until you settle with the image. From there on your steps are fast and words are even faster as you fall into the usual pattern of work. It helps to set all worries aside.

"Midnight blue and ink black broadcloth for Gimli, son of Gloin," you arrange the fabrics on top of the counter before the dwarf. "Goes well along with both gold and silver."

"Bright wools and soft satins for brave hobbits," you speak pulling out lengths of colored textile and showcasing them to Merry and Pippin.

"Silver silk brought all the way from Lorien for honorable Legolas of Mirkwood," you suggest, unsure yet if smuggled wares could meet the request of an elf.

"Linen from Linhir and hemp from Dale for your majesty," you offer a multitude of colors to the future king.

Aragorn's eyebrows rise in mild surprise at the speed with which you handle the various requests. You clearly know your craft, and well. You pick out the colors and patterns with ease. He runs his hands over the soft fabric of the broadcloth you picked out for Gimli. After a moment, he nods slowly.

"Excellent choice for my friend," he says, glancing at the dwarf. Gimli grins back and nods in agreement.

"It's an honor to meet your expectations, my king," you bow slightly under Aragorn's somewhat disapproving gaze.

You watch as the others look through the selected fabrics and nod in agreement, choosing the best fitting ones. Aragorn himself looks rather delighted by the wares. He picks out a length of hemp cloth, turns it over in his hands a few times, examining the weave and texture, and finally gives a satisfied sigh.

"I'm still a Ranger at heart," he says, glancing up at you. "My taste in clothes runs toward the simple and practical. This hemp is just the thing."

He sets the hemp down on the counter and smiles back at you. "I do wonder, though… which one will you choose for yourself?"

Your heart skips a bit at the question. "For myself?" The words leave your mouth before you get a chance to think them through.

Aragorn smiles at your surprised expression. "Of course," he says. "I doubt I need to tell you that the coronation will be a grand event. There will be people, nobles especially, with all the fashion sense and more coin than sense. You will be the only one in something plain and unadorned if you stay away from the occasion."

He looks down at your clothes. You're well-dressed for a trader, a clear sign that the store's profits stay high despite any turmoil, but it's clear that your dress is ordinary, suitable for an ordinary day. "You deserve something better than that."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, your majesty…" you mutter. "I might be able to watch the coronation from among the crowd, or standing on the parapet if the luck is good. But my dress makes no difference in that luck."

Aragorn lets out a small huff and shakes his head. "No, lass. You have seen me before, and you weren't among those sneering and showering me with cheap mockery. As far as I'm concerned, you're entitled to a seat of honor at the ceremony. And I'm not letting you take that seat while you've still got your old clothes on."

You look at him in disbelief. This idea seems absolutely mad. You have probably lost your mind during the siege, and now you're imagining the whole thing. That the King, Aragorn, would be in your store personally inviting you as a guest to his coronation and willing to pay for your dress because of some decade old encounter. You shake your head and blink a few times trying to get back to reality. And yet he is still here. The same smirk on his lips as he leans on the counter.

Aragorn's smirk grows a bit wider when he sees your reaction. "Don't doubt your eyes, lass," a hint of humor is present in his voice. "I am standing here. And I am inviting you."

He looks you up and down, taking in your current clothes and appearance. "And if you don't pick something suitable, I'll do it myself, and you won't like it."

At that you only shake your head yet again and turn around facing the many shelves behind the counter. You know the wares like the back of your hand and don't waste much time picking out the more delicate linens and a length of silk from southern Gondor in light blue hues. Aragorn only looks them over once and gives a nod of approval.

"An excellent choice," he says, looking up at you with a smile. "You have an eye for color."

You nod slightly, unable to speak anymore. It all seems so impossible and unreal. Aragorn pays for everything he and his friend choose as well as for the lengths for your own dress; he also leaves behind enough to pay any seamstress in the city for the gown. It's only a few minutes before you're left behind. Alone and bewildered by the meeting.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the next couple of days you pay a visit to a seamstress that once had sewn your mother's wedding dress. She takes the order readily and in the next morning a boy brings back a bundle with the finished gown. It's light and flowing like water in the river. You wait patiently until the day of coronation to finally put it on.

The dress seems to be enchanted somehow. You don't feel like a merchant's daughter walking through the crowd at court, being accompanied by a guard. You don't feel alien standing in the front rows among noble ladies and just a few steps away from lady Eowyn — niece to the late king of Rohan — and lord Faramir — son of the last steward of Gondor. You feel as if this could be some other life prepared for you by fate. And still you can't quite place why the king would step out of his way and do something of that sort for you.

Throughout the whole ceremony you can't tear your eyes away from his silhouette. You recognize the familiar color and texture of fabric, hugging his neck from beneath the armor. You watch him walk regally and at the same time very openly among the guests. Many are his friends. The ceremony ends with his grateful bow to the hobbits as the whole court follows his example. And with that begins the feast.

The great hall of the palace is decorated and festive. The long tables are filled with food and drinks. People flood the hall, taking their places. You watch the whole Fellowship find themselves close to the king. And your own place is somehow not that far away as well. Just among the members of the few remaining noble families of Gondor, blending you in with them.

As the feast progresses more wine bottles are opened. So far you managed to avoid the many cups of wine being offered by neighbors at the table, but it was getting noticeably harder. Some surely mistook you for a daughter of some less well-known, but clearly wealthy family, that would make for a good bride for one of their many sons. Before the direct confrontation becomes unavoidable you get away from the table and into a side gallery. Unsure as to where you should be going, you escape onto a balcony. It's empty and the scenery is beautiful. Fresh air is soothing against the heated skin.

You lean onto the parapet of the balcony, taking this chance to immerse in peace of the early night. Judging by the music, the dancing must have started, and that sounds like another perfect way to excuse yourself from the table later. But before you even decide to head back, you hear the sound of the balcony door slightly creaking at being opened and slow footsteps approaching.

You turn around and recognize Aragorn, who must have found a great time to sneak out of the spotlight relatively unnoticed. Back in the hall he looked nothing like the Ranger you once met, but here in the faint moonlight and subtle orange hues casted from the windows you can spot more similarities than before.

"Good evening, your majesty," you greet him politely with an appropriate bow.

Aragorn smiles faintly at your bow. He steps forward and leans on the parapet next to you. After a moment, he speaks, his voice more casual than it was earlier.

"You know, you don't need to call me by my title. Especially not while we're alone like this."

The suggestion catches you off guard. "I don't quite understand what should I call you then… or why that would even be possible," you confess your doubts.

He looks over at you and raises his eyebrows. "Why would it be possible to call me by my given name? Because I'm allowing it. For the time being, at least."

Aragorn turns to you completely so that he's leaning against the parapet, with one arm resting on it. The simple action bringing color to your face as you get to see him fully. "You met me before I was king. As far as I'm concerned, that means you still have the right to call me something other than 'your majesty' when we are alone, like this."

"There're many people in this city and beyond its walls who have met you before, Aragorn," his name feels almost alien on your tongue. "But I doubt that they all receive the same… treatment."

The king lets out a small huff and smiles faintly. "No, I suppose not. I doubt I'd be able to recognize any of them, for starters. You, however, were more memorable…"

He gives you a brief once-over. "You were more memorable," he repeats, his gaze fixed on you for a moment before he looks away and back out at the city. "It could be a mere coincidence, but I trust my fate and its signs. My visit to Minas Tirith eight years ago was the last one. It was the time when I attempted to make the final decision of whether to follow the path of an heir or give up. The way I was greeted with dozens of insults and many more curses in the streets of the White city was the sign that I assumed to be an advice against pursuing my right for the throne. You showed up before my eyes right when I was ready to give up. So young and eager, so welcoming and confident. I couldn't tear my eyes away from you. You seemed as the very essence of the new Era. You singlehandedly charged something within me with this new will to fight for such future."

You stand there too stunned to say a single word, your mind racing with thoughts. You would never expect to hear something of the kind. The way you acted during that first encounter was a surprise to you as well, as if… well, as if fate pushed you to be more hospitable and welcoming to this stranger.

The more you keep thinking about his words the brighter the scarlet tone on your cheeks turns. You try to get rid of the definitely wrong ideas you got, but they just keep reappearing in your troubled mind.

Aragorn glances over at you and takes notice of the shade of red creeping over your cheeks. He can't help but give a small chuckle. "And now you're blushing again. I wonder why?"

He reaches forward and carefully takes your chin, his hand tilting your face up towards him slightly. "What could possibly be going through that mind of yours, I wonder…"

Your eyes dart to his with righteous indignation. "You know what!" you exclaim rather impolitely, but continue in a much calmer, quieter manner. "How could you be speaking of fate so easily…"

Aragorn lifts an eyebrow in amusement as your voice rises then falls off again. His grip loosens a little, his fingers now resting on your cheek, still turning your face to look up at him.

"You don't like the concept of fate?" he asks, with a faint smile. "You don't think the right people can meet at the right time?"

"No, that's not what I meant. However, you sound so sure of the way you interpret those signs of fate. As humans we are only able to follow the path prepared for us, not knowing what lays ahead, aren't we?" you say trying to explain your mind's confusion. "But you seem to understand more, and that seems impossible to me. Especially, when," you pause for a moment searching for the right words. "When I somehow get involved in your fate."

He looks at your expression, studying your eyes and face, his fingers still touching your skin as he speaks.

"You are involved in my fate," Aragorn says, his voice low and serious. "You have been for a long time, whether you knew it or not. But I knew it. Not long after we first met. I knew there was a greater purpose to that encounter, even if you did not. And I made sure to be grateful for your timely appearance. Though I must admit there might be more than just gratefulness…"

He removes his hand from your face and makes a few steps towards the door back into the hall before turning around and facing you once more. "Dancing will continue for another hour, but it would be a shame if the king doesn't dance even once because a beautiful lady decided to spend her whole night on a balcony, right?"

Your gaze glides over his hopeful gray eyes and faint smile until it finally lands on his outstretched hand.

[saranghae2207]

𝘓𝘖𝘕𝘎 𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘋 𝘏𝘖𝘔𝘌, Mando x reader

Chapter II: Breakfast at Yrem's and Dinner in Jakku

Summary: After escaping the grasp of a menacing sex trafficker, Y/N accidentaly finds her way onto the Razor Crest

Masterlist

This series will follow the general storyline of The Mandalorian, starting between chapter 4 and 5. It is going to be a SLOW burn, that I can promise. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Descriptions of rape, sexual assault and forced sterilazation, sex traficking, kidnapping, canon typical violence, FMC! able bodied! MC, other than that there are no further descriptions of readers apearance other than that she is pretty.

Your back hurts like hell, you haven't always had the best sleeping situation but there was something about the floor to this particular ship, the bolts probably.

The child coos in one of your arms, the other holding a cup of caff. You perk up at the request, picking up one of the small fruits and handing it to him. He chews on it as you smile at him.

Your attention is pulled to the ladder as you hear Mando crawling down.

"I made breakfast," you say, gesturing to the fruits and dough in front of you.

"You take the dough and wrap the fruit in it." you showed him, picking up a pink fuit and wrapping it up, chewing half of it and handing the other half to the child who makes an excited noise.

Mando comes up to you two, gently stroking the happy childs cheek. You hand him his plate and he goes back up to the cabin. Toro had previously told you that his kind, Mandalorians, can never take their helmets off in front of others, so you had looked forward to figuring out how they ate. Pretty obvious now.

This was your first meal onboard. After leaving Tatooine, Mando had given you a proper tour of the ship, which lasted like two minutes, it is not a big ship. He had then told you what your jobs were; cleaning, washing clothes, repairements if needed, taking care of the child and cooking.

"With what food?" you had asked. He brought you to a storage box, opening it up to reveal dough, a handful of nuts in a pot, some fruit and a canister of caff.

You looked at him incredulously, "You call this proper food?" you ask,

"Yes." he answered simply, you scoffed,

"Mando, this is a growing child, it's gonna need more than a few nuts."

"What's wrong with the nuts?"

"There's nothing wrong with the nuts-"

"Great-"

"Bu-ut, I'm gonna need more to work with, I guess I could still make something with this but don't you have anything else?"

"Sounds like a skill issue."

You glare at the Mandalorian, holding back a smile at the rare show of humour.

"I'll make a stop at Jakku, there's some markets there."

The child now giggles up at you, two fruits stuck in it's nostrils, you laugh, picking some dough and shoving it in yours. The child claps its three fingered hands together in delight, the action seems so human-like.

You hear Mando shuffling upstairs and a moment later his hand reaches down with the empty plate.

"Was it good?" you ask, grabbing the plate. He grumbles an affirmation and then says,

"We're almost on Jakku, get the kid ready."

++++++++

You had been relieved to leave Tatooine and it's sandy planes and had hoped Jakku would offer some more living flourishments up but walking down the ramp, you almost had a spasm at the desolate landscape.

"I thought we left Tatooine?" you ask

"We did," the Mandalorian says, walking around you.

"You sure?"

"Markets up this way."

Your mouth is still agape, eyes scanning the scenery as you follow behind him, feeling at the child in your bag. You can see his eyes peering out, eyeing you with question.

"I know right?" you say down at him, the child coos softly in answer.

"Is there anything in particular the kid likes?" you ask,

"Frogs, but don't let him have those, it's disgusting. Whatever you think would be good for him is fine."

You nod earnestly, no frogs... maybe some frogs.

Up ahead you can already make out a few houses, a bustling village.

You enter, looking at the different extraterestrial beings all packed up on each other.

When you had first left your homeworld, this had all been a shock to you, the diverse creatures and beings all living together. It's gotten a lot more normal now, but the memory of seeing your first Devaronian and being fully convinced you had accidentally ended up in hell still stays with you.

You slowly enter a market place full of screeching creatures and busy consumers. An ongree is hagling at one of the stalls, maned by a gran who loses it's temper and bangs down, causing some items to fly all over the place.

You pull the child closer to you as you follow Mando along. The crowd splits for him like the red sea does for Moses and you wonder just how feared his race is.

Mando pulls you off to an empty side,

"I need to take care of some business, but I should be done in about an hour. Take these credits," he hands you a small satchel "Here are the rules,"

Oh boy, more rules, you think unenthusiastically,

"Don't spend credits on aything other than food for the child, don't stray from the market place, don't do anything stupid, do not let the child eat frogs, don't let anyone see the child, keep him safe and do not get into any trouble. Got it?"

You're on the edge of an eye roll but catch yourself just in time,

"Got it!"

Mando suddenly grips at your arm, causing you to flinch, back pressing into a wall.

"Do not get in to trouble, I'm fully trusting you with that kid right now and I swear if anything happens to him, I will not make your death an easy one, there will not be a single corner, galaxy, constellations in the universe that will keep you safe from me. Got. It?"

Jesus fuck.

You stand tense against the wall, mouth slightly agape, brows furrowed deeply. You can hardly hold in the shiver raising up your spine as you try and almost fail to keep your eyes on the now horrifying T visor. You close your mouth, swallowing some saliva in an attempt to lubricate your dry throat and nod a little too aggresively.

"Got it." you say, voice shaky.

"We meet back here in an hour, not a second later." and with that, he walks away.

You stand there a moment longer, staring into space. How come the moment you leave one scary, violent weirdo you get stuck with another? A sound from the child brings you back to. You look down at the child,

"He always that intense?" the child simply coos in answer.

You make your way from stall to stall, looking over the foods, there isn't a ton but you find some things you can definitely work with. Figuring out the diverse range of different foods in the many galaxies was a tough job. Not that you had every really gotten the time to master the use of them. You had been a great cook on your homeworld, people always praising it highly. You hoped that you could recapture your former glory and spent most of the hour trying to figure out which foods would offer the best results.

You were at one such stall when the kid made a loud annoyed noise from your bag. You tensed up, avoiding eye contact with the ishi tib running the stall. The child made another noise and you made a loud hungered noise in order to cover it up,

"Hmm, these look so good!" you exclaim, sweat starting to build up at your lower back. The ishi tib looks at you judgementally,

"Good price too," it says, gesturing about it's produce,

"Yeah, great, sorry I'm just really hungry,"

"Hungry? There is cantina nearby," at this the child punches at the bag, you panic and jump up a bit.

"That sounds great! I'll go check it out," you say, embarrased at your ridiculous behaviour and starting to panic even more.

"But first buy some, no?" the ishi tib gestures to some of the fruit,

"Um, yeah sure, I'll take two of those," you say, pointing at the meiloorun. The ishi tib packs them in a bag for you and you hand it the credits, promptly walking away in embarrasement.

"What is wrong with you? We need to keep low," you hiss down at the child, who lets out an annoyed sounds and another punch to the top of your bag.

"How can you be hungry again? We just ate this morning!" the child pouts out a noise in answer as you move towars the cantina.

'Yrem's' you read on the front. Walking in, you let out a sigh of relief at the lack of people. You trudge up to the counter and look at the options.

"Cushnip's half price on mornings," another ishi tib says behind the counter.

"Oh, uhm, that sounds..." you drawl out, sticking a hand into your bag. The child squeezes at it tightly,

"Great," you smile. The ishi tib nods, turning aorund and yelling your order at a single somber looking Ardennian stirring a pot in the kitchen,

"Coming right up," the ishi tib smiles, you nod and move to a seat somewhere in the corner.

You gently plop down your bag beside you, making a scan of the cantina to make sure no one was watching and peer into the opening. The childs wide eyes peer back up at you, making an excited noise. You smile gently, whispering,

"You're a little chaos gremlin, you know that?" the child just coos in response.

A moment later the ishi tib yells out your order and you go to get it.

Sliding back into your seat, you rip off a piece of fral, holding it out incospicuously to the child, who snatches it from your hand, making a sound of glee that you cover up with a cough.

You chew on the baked Cushnip, sighing lightly. This wasn't so bad. You look around at the other customers, all held up in their own business. An Utai was slurping loudly at some jogun fruit pie, two Theelins having an argument, hissing quietly at one another.

The scene reminded you of a diner you used to go to on your homeworld. The name escapes you but you can almost see it in front of you if you think hard enough. The permanent smell of fries and grease, the soft music playing. You would go there every Saturday with your mom and Wayne. Mom would always get an ommelete, dipping her fries into the yolk before popping it into her mouth. Wayne loved the fish sticks there and would always make a mess trying to eat them on his own, you'd always have to wipe his face clean afterwards. Mom was always in a good mood on those trips, it would seem that all the problems and pains of everyday life would melt away with every slurp of your milkshake, for a moment, everything would be perfect.

A heavy rock forms in your chest, this is why you don't linger on the past. It doesn't help, only makes things worse, only serves as a reminder for everything that went wrong, everything you've lost.

You look down at the child, face covered in fral. You chuckle, picking up a tissue and wiping his face clean.

++++++++

You're standing in the same empty corner again when Mando returns,

"Guess who didn't get into any trouble?" you grin at him,

"Where's the child?" Mando asks, you lift the cover of your bag to reveal the kids fral free face.

"We didn't even get into any fights, can you believe it?"

"Congratulations," he says, unimpressed "you still got some credits?"

You huff at his lack of enthusiasm at your achievement and hand him the left over credits.

"Let's go," he says, turning around, marching back in the direction of the ship. You grimace lightly. It seems this guy really hates you, which you hope won't get in the way of your agreement.

You follow behind him, passing the stalls, the houses, eventually you're back on the sandy planes from this morning.

"We'll stay here for the night." Mando says, walking up the ramp, you nod lightly as you move into the ship,

"I'll start on dinner," you say to a lack of response from Mando, who's already up the cockpit. You huff, starting to get frustrated at his lack of interest in anything concerning you. You plop the child down,

"Wanna help with cooking?" you ask, the child coos happily and you grin back down at it.

Beside the ship you set up the heating tool and a pot filled with some of the blue milk you had gotten today, in front of you, you pull up the pile of blue puff cubes and start slicing them into little pieces, handing them to the child.

"You put them in the pot, okay?" the child nods with adorable determanation, taking the pieces you hand him and gently plopping them in the milk.

You had once seen a Pantoran cook this up as you sat by her father, wearing barely enough to cover anything. You had used the delicious scent and careful proces of the meal to distract from what was happening to you. The mouth-watering smell starts to form now that your sitting here, alongside a green child, sitting on the crass sand, fully clothed.

You reach into the bag of kiwip grass, gently throwing it into the concoction. The child is obediently stirring the mixture and you can almost see the saliva forming around his little mouth. You smile happily, glad that your work is causing such a reaction.

It's as your cutting up the chou-shou that Mando appears at the ramp, walking up to you and the child hard at work.

"What's that?" he asks, sitting down on the sand,

"Proper food," you say, he huffs out a small laugh as you smile at him,

"It smells good,"

You grab three bowls and fill each up with the soup, handing one to the child,

"Careful," you mutter as the small being stretches out it's hands to collect the bowl. You hand one over to Mando, who takes it to an area behind the ship where you can't see him.

"It's my first time making this, so don't get mad if it sucks!" you yell out to him.

"I thought you were great at cooking," he yells back at you,

"I am, just experimenting a little," you look to the child, who's already gulping it down like it's some elixir of life.

"Oh, never mind, the kid loves it!" you yell, proud that you didn't completely fuck up. You hear Mando hum in reply and still slightly, it doesn't have that modifide sound of the modulator. For a moment you had forgotten that there's actually a person behind the beskar. The thought of Mando being helmetless gets you thinking to how he might look under there. Is he human or maybe some other species? Is he green? Blue? Purple? Does he have three eyes? Maybe two mouths? Curiosity creaps up on you but you don't let it take over. He'd dump you right into space if you tried to find out.

You slurp at your creation, which was indeed delicious. You let the hungry little monster have the rest of the soup.

After finishing everything, the child sits next to you, looking out into space, a hiccup escaping from it's little body, the state reminding you of Wayne after he'd eaten a particularly copious amount of noodles. You smile soflty at him, leaning your head against your shoulder and sighing.

From behind , you can hear Mando nearing you. You see him sit down next to the kid, softly caressing his head.

"How long have you known each other?" you ask tentatively, still not sure wether this is safe speaking territory. Mando looks down at the child for a moment then answers,

"A while, maybe sixty rotations?" you mentally high five yourself at having gotten this new piece of information.

"Do you now what he is yet?" you're careful to not ask anything too envasive yet, sensing that this was not a man who liked to get personal.

"No idea, I've never seen anything like him," he says, continuing to stroke the childs ears gently.

"Me neither. It's weird, he's still so young,"

"50."

"What?"

"He's around 50 years old,"

You almost choke on a piece of chou-shou,

"God damn, you're an old man," you say, looking at the child, man, more accurately. He looks at you softly and smiles.

"His species ages a lot slower than most," Mando says

"You could say that, yeah," you continue looking down at the child.

You suddenly burst out laughing, a full belly laugh which causes the child to join you.

"You're a strange little thing aren't you?" you laugh,

"Now you're gonna tell me you're what? 100? 200?" you continue giggling and swear you hear a smile as Mando says,

"No, I'm human like you, but I can hardly keep track of age anymore."

'Human, like you' it plays around your head a couple of times as you turn your gaze to him.

'like you'.

"Human, huh? Here I was thinking you were blue or something." you giggle again gently, looking at him.

"Most Mandalorians are human," he says, you cock your head to the side.

"What are Mandalorians actually? I've never heard of them before."

"You don't seem to have heard of much before." he says, visor looking at you intently. You look out in front of you, at the setting sun.

"I was taken from my homeworld, which is in some other galaxy, far far away. In my solar system, we don't even know that life exists outside of our planet, let alone leave it. I was taken from there some years ago. Haven't really had much time to learn about anything." you look down, mind floating of.

"What was your planet called?" he asks softly, you haven't heard him speak so gently before.

You look down and chew on your lip a little before answering,

"Earth."

Mando hums,

"Mandalorians lived on the planet Mandalore, but it is no longer as great as it used to be, since the great purge."

You look at him, stumped at how much he's just said in one go.

"What was the great purge?" you ask, worrying that you might be taking this too far, but Mando answers,

"The empire, in some sort of punishement, bombarded Mandalore, killing almost all of us and stealing beskar, our steel used for armour. Since then, Mandalorians have been broken apart, scattered across the galaxy." he goes quiet now, you slightly regret asking the question, knowing it probably brought up many awful memories.

"That's horrible." you pathetically mumble, looking back at the setting sun.

"We had a lot of purges on Earth. Not from other planets, just ourselves."

"You fought your own kind?" Mando asks, looking at you.

"Yes, we've done a lot to our own kind, but when it's just us on the planet, we start to focus on the unimportant differences. We would hate each other for the smallest things." you bury your chin into your knees, sitting quietly.

"That can't have been the only thing on your planet?" Mando nudges.

You smile lightly "We were also good, not always, but we would fight for one another, help one another. You're right, it wasn't all bad. But I don't even know if it's still there. Sometimes... I think I might've just made it all up. But I swear it's where I'm from, I just don't know how to get back. I've given up trying at this point."

Mando is looking at you, you look back at him and then down at the child, who's fallen asleep at Mando's hip.

"You never know." Mando says, you smile absently,

"No, I don't. I know if I ever do try to find it, that it'll be a long road home." you sigh, looking at the child.

The sun has fully set now, night settling in.

"I should get this little guy to his cot," you say, gently picking the child up.

Mando gets up beside you, looking at the child.

"We move early tommorrow,"

You nod, starting to treck to the ship.

"Yun?" Mando asks behind you, you turn to him,

"Yeah?"

"I think you'll find your way back home,"

Your cheeks heat up, you look at the Mandalorian and hesitate slightly,

"I-I think you'll find your home too."

>Chapter III

1 rotation = 1 day

Taglist: @enfppuff

[breelandwalker]

so, I know you've been vending at a lot of different craft fairs and witch markets for awhile now (sadly, too far away for me to attend!). would you happen to have any tips for someone looking to do the same at their local fairs? thanks!!!!!! ❤️

Sure! To start, brush up on three things - networking, recordkeeping, and people skills. Get an idea of what's going in on your area, talk to the organizers, see what the particulars are for the events. Here are some questions to ask:

What's the venue like? (indoors, outdoors, parking, accessibility)

Do I need to bring my own table and chairs?

Is there electricity / wifi available?

What is the table fee?

When is the event and how long does it run?

Is there a theme or target audience?

Is there advertising being done for the event? (Signal boost!)

Based on the answers you get, you can start putting your stock and setup together.

Do as much as you can WAY ahead of time. If you need to make things, start now. If you need to buy things, give yourself at least a month before an event to make sure everything arrives in time. Get yourself a 6-foot folding table and a comfortable folding chair or camp chair for events where they're not provided by the venue. Sign for Paypal, Venmo, and Cashapp as well as a card payment processing service like Square to give your customers the most payment options possible. And of course, plan to carry some small bills for cash patrons. (You don't need a register or cashbox, a simple bag of appropriate size will do. I literally use a pencil case that says Resting Witch Face. Works great.)

You'll want to get some displays for your merchandise. The type will vary depending on what you have, but it should be simply and sturdy and preferably easy to pack in and out. Vertical visibility is important at these events, so if you can find some kind of stand or tiered display, that will help you get noticed. I'd also suggest some simple clear plastic standups that you can put a printout price list and a basic sign in. A table banner helps people notice your table from afar and you should definitely have business cards to hand out with your shop info and socials. (I use Vistaprint for both.) Decorations are nice, but don't overload the table with them. They should augment your setup, not overwhelm it.

You may also want to get an 8x8 or 10x10 popup canopy and canopy weights if you plan to do outdoor events. Also, GET A COLLAPSIBLE WAGON. Best investment I ever made was a $45 collapsible wagon. It fits in my backseat and makes hauling things in and out of venues SO much easier.

Keep track of everything you spend related to your endeavors, including event fees, supplies, stock, setup items, displays, signage, business cards, and gas and food on the day. Keep those receipts - you can deduct them on your taxes later to offset your earnings. (Because registering as a business can be a pain and comes with fees, but if you don't do it, you may owe money for not collecting sales tax. Put aside some money for that tax bill, just in case.)

Prep your setup and stock the night before an event. Check your merch, charge your card reader (and bring a fully-charged auxiliary power pack and cord, just in case), make any updates to your inventory or pricing that you need to. It really cuts down on stress when you're loading up if you know you've already get everything set. I suggest reusable shopping bags or clear plastic bins to make things easy to haul, plus they can double as storage.

Plan to leave as early as you need to in order to account for traffic and pit stops. Pick an outfit ahead of time so you don't have to dither over clothes. It should be something appropriate for the event and the weather that looks neat and clean and is easy to move around in, including comfortable shoes. (Look to other vendors for examples.)

Make sure you bring water, snacks, and anything you'll need to get through the day, i.e. medicine (headache pills and stomach medicine at minimum), energy drinks, a fan for hot days, an extra layer for cold ones, etc. Get to the venue as early as the organizers allow. The more time you have to park, load in, and set up, the less stressed you'll be. Make sure things are arranged in a way that's accessible and makes sense. Place signage where necessary to explain items and pricing.

GO TO THE BATHROOM BEFORE THE EVENT BEGINS. TRUST ME.

During the event, you're gonna have to do a LOT of socializing, so prepare for that as best you can. Try to stand if possible when there's a lot of foot traffic so you're more noticeable. Be personable - you don't have to grin constantly, just try to keep a pleasant expression and greet people as they pass, especially if they look in your direction. Don't be afraid to invite passersby over if they pause to check out your setup. Welcome them in, invite them to check out your stuff, and let them know you're happy to answer questions. (And ALL questions are good questions. There are no dumb questions. Even if the question is the dumbest thing you've ever heard or it's the fifteenth time you've been asked that day.) Chat and banter a bit where possible. If you can get people smiling or laughing, they're more likely to stick around and possibly purchase your wares. Make sure as many people as possible take your card when they leave.

Yes, you will be exhausted when the event is over, even if you're a naturally outgoing person, and you'll still have to break everything down, haul it out, load your vehicle, and drive home. If you happen to have somebody who can help you out, that really comes in handy.

In any case, know your own capabilities and personal limits and plan for that when you're deciding where to vend. If a venue is too far away for your comfort or doesn't have what you need or the table fee is too high (be wary of any thing over $75 for a single day event), don't sign up. If an event is too long or too far outside your target audience, don't sign up. If you don't have an appropriate setup or don't have the stock / can't get it in time, don't sign up. If something about the event or the venue or the organizers rubs you the wrong way, DON'T SIGN UP. Talk to other local vendors to get an idea of where to go and what to expect. Most will tell you right away what works, what's good, and what to steer clear of.

This is all just the basics. You'll learn a lot more when you start to vend, as far as what your individual needs are, where to go to find reliable business, and how best to connect with local venues and customers. Keep records of everything you do (spreadsheets are your friend!), network with organizers and other vendors, and practice that sociable game face.

And trust me - if a disorganized introvert with social anxiety and ADHD and absolutely NO sales experience can figure out to do this, I think pretty much anyone has a chance.

Good luck!!!! 😁

[radianttulsibabe]

Since I was asked about if I like to bake, and baking generally requires eggs, which my household generally only eats if they are gifted for us or we are caring for chickens with excess egg production- I will share how I make kheer- we usually have the ingredients for kheer. As both my husband and I come from cattle families we consume a good amount of milk in our home. We either get the milk from a local dairy or at the local market. One of our house cats is from a dairy farm- cows, goats, and sheep are a very large piece of our life together.

I like things simple- Many parts of my day require my full attention, so when I do cook, I tend to only make simple foods. Kheer is one of those simple foods that I personally enjoy.

This is how I make kheer- everyone is different, every region makes it a little differently. My mom would make it for me this way, so this is how I make it-but everyone's mom probably makes it a little different, that doesn't make your kheer or my kheer any less authentic it just makes it special to your family.

Ingredients:

cooked rice (left over or fresh...I usually use leftover from dinner because I typically make kheer in the middle of the night...so ours usually has cumin in it...but you do what ever you do it's not an exact science)

Milk

Ghee or regular butter

Sugar or Jaggery or whatever sweetener you choose

When I do measure, I scale that to the amount of rice so 1c rice is 1c milk 1 c sugar 1 TB Ghee (usually more but I go conservative on typed recipes because I usually find the hubsy eating it on the sofa when I am looking for it...)...but also we don't always have one cup of everything because I don't always keep the pantry in my kitchenette stocked for middle of the night emergencies and I generally don't want to go to storage in my nightrobe to get the bigger bags/boxes opened...so just do what feels right...make sure the ghee doesn't smoke and the rice doesn't burn and you should be fine.

extras to add if you want:

cashews, almonds, raisins, amla, fresh berries, coconut, a couple saffron strands (if you can afford/you want to be extra fancy)

Instructions:

in a sauce pot add ghee and the cooked rice

warm up the ghee and rice until the rice is covered in ghee

add milk

mix in the sugar until it feels right (?) I don't know I just do it lol

Sometimes I like it more solid, sometimes I like it a little more runny it's all good so whatever you like. My mom was super methodical and made it the same every time when I was growing up. It was also the same consistency somewhere between sticky rice and creamy. but I'm a bit more go with the flow and don't use instructions so I'm generally happy with all styles. We have friends that put vermicelli in theirs and it's more soupy and that's super tasty too.

Once it's the consistency you like, take it off the heat and mix in the extras if you have them/want them. serve hot or let it cool honestly it's good both ways...I like mine with fresh fruit that's in season but that's only if it's in season.

As far as shelf life, I don't even know how long it stores because it's usually gone before we can put it into the chiller...at the market they say fresh and chilled can last a week. there is also frozen you can buy but that feels wrong to me...frozen kheer? idk it just doesn't sit right... @cybertimetravelrunaway teases me every time he sees it that I should buy the frozen for kheer emergencies and I never know what to say except probably we shouldn't do that because frozen is confusing to me...so maybe don't freeze it just eat it and be happy or not happy- whatever you want to be, but I've never been angry eating kheer so maybe it will help your depression too! Just remember to eat with moderation. We love our pancreases and appreciate that they provide us with the insulin we need to keep our bodies strong. We want to build healthy food habits for the future so we can live long lives. Eating adequate protein with our carbohydrates helps us to keep a balanced blood sugar and BP :)

If you made it through that and are still sticking around, I'd love to hear about your relationship with kheer! It really is my favorite food- in all its glorious forms- and I love to know how others enjoy it!

Have a lovely start to your week!

<3 Rukmini

[shunin-gumis]

(Not) Lonely SANTA's Mission - Track 03

Seasonal Event: Christmas 2024

Location: HAMA House - Living Room

Nagi: …Glue the eyes to the chrysanthemum, and attach the felt ears… 

Nagi: Add some puffed rice into the wrapper and tie it off with a ribbon… 

Nagi: Muun… 

Nagi: (After which I cast a charm of happiness— And that’s a wrap on the “Bunny Bouquet.”)

Nagi: (Yup. As I thought, working on the bouquets in the living room wards off the sleepiness compared to working on it back in my room.)

Nagi: Onto the next one.

Nagi: (Next is the Teddy Bouquet. Add the eyes to the chrysanthemum…)

Nagi: (The ears… Puffed rice…)

Nagi: (Charm…)

Nagi: …*snore*

Nagi: —*gasp*

Nagi: This isn’t good… My consciousness is floating away like the seeds of a dandelion… 

Nagi: Fluffy… 

Nagi: (T-There’s a weight… on my back…)

Nagi: (Could this possibly be the first encounter with one of the Seven Wonders of HAMA House: “The fairy that pulls you under if it catches you past midnight”...?)

Nagi: No way… Jose… 

Kuguri: My, so you were awake, Nagi?

*Nagi sinks down a bit*

Nagi: Oh, thank goodness. It’s just Kuguri-san. Um, you’re… really heavy… 

Kuguri: Mhm, that would be because I’m putting all my weight on you.

*Nagi keeps sinking down*

Nagi: Once again, the shepherd's purse is crushed gently… by the ever beautiful lily… augh… 

~~~

Tao: Argh, that last round didn’t go well. I seriously messed up my reload timing.

Tao: I’ll just grab an energy drink and move on to the next match…

???: Can’t… Breathe… 

Tao: Huh… Who’s groaning? No one’s supposed to be in the living room… The heck…

Kuguri: Hello, maci.

Tao: Woah, Kuguri-san, what are you doing here by yoursel–

Tao: W-Why are you on top of Hachinoya-san!?

Nagi: T-Tao… 

Tao: What are you doing!? Please get off of him!

Kuguri: That’s too bad. I simply wanted to enjoy the warmth of a pale flower for a little longer.

Nagi: Phew… I was almost flattened… But I was also surrounded by Kuguri-san’s nice scent in the meantime, so I guess I broke even…? No, it might be better than even… 

Tao: Are you alright, Hachinoya-san? What are you two even doing out here this late? It’s 4 AM, y’know.

Nagi: *gasp* This is no good. I need to get ready to head to the market.

Nagi: See you later, Tao, Kuguri-san. 

*Nagi runs off*

Tao: Sure…

Tao: It sorta looked like he’s working on something with his flowers… I wonder if he’s been working at night too?

Kuguri: My, hard workers have it hard, don't they? December is something of a bonus month meant for relaxing.

Tao: You slack off, like, every month though…

~~~

Location: Flower Laundry

Sonia: Yesh… Got it. Thank you for your order~

Sonia: Nagi-shan, we got an additional requesht on a pending order! I’ve left the note over here!

Nagi: Got it. The other Christmas bouquets are also perfectly done.

Sonia: The one that will be picked up at noon, yesh? I’ll keep it safe in the storage.

Sonia: Shtill, it’s a good thing we have sho many customers~

Nagi: This is a special holiday for florists. We should make good use of it.

Sonia: That reminds me, did you finish making the bouquets you plan to hand out later today?

Nagi: There’s still three left. The atmospheric pressure isn’t looking good today, so I’m taking the bus. I’ll make them on the way. 

Sonia: In that case, it’s probably besht if you leave now while you have two hours to shpare, beshides the time you need for travelling. 

Sonia: If you manage to get there early, you could always take it easy at the cafe nearby.

Nagi: Huh? But… 

Sonia: It's okay! You can leave the shop to me!

Sonia: Here you go, the usual shafety and emergency bag packed by yours truly!

Sonia: It’s got the bandages you losht lasht time, your helmet and whistle, and I’ve even put in shome extra cat toys and nyao-churu*!

Nagi: Sonia… 

Nagi: Thank you. These are all really handy.

Nagi: I’ll be off, then.

~~~

Location: HAMA Downtown

Nagi: (For a moment, I was worried when I ended up diving headfirst into a gaggle of cats while trying to avoid a snowdrift, but I was saved thanks to Sonia’s items.)

Nagi: (I managed to get to the station safe and sound. There’s still time before the bus arrives, it’s almost scary how smoothly this is going.)

Nagi: (Alright, I should use this time to make the remaining three Teddy Bouquets…)

Baby of the person sitting nearby: Da~

Nagi: Wah.

Nagi: (A tiny hand just grabbed onto one of the chrysanthemums…)

Baby’s Papa: Oh! C’mon, don’t do that. I’m so sorry for the trouble…!

Nagi: It’s okay… 

Baby of the person sitting nearby: Uua?

Nagi: …… 

Nagi: Muun… 

Nagi: (Grow up healthy and strong—)

Baby of the person sitting nearby: ?

Nagi: …Um. You can have this, if you’d like. As a present. 

Baby’s Papa: Wait, really?

Nagi: Yes. He seems to like it, and I have plenty to spare, so— 

Madam with a strong presence: Oh my, how wonderful! Could I have 3 of those teddies for my children too!?

Nagi: Um, uh, huh?

Kids with a strong presence: Wooow–! So cuuute! Gimme gimme gimme!

Nagi: Awawa… 

Nagi: S-Sure, here you go. Three teddies.

Kids with a strong presence: I don’t like this ribbon!

Nagi: Okay. I’ll change it for you, so let me know which color you like. Red? Alright, take this one.

Nagi: The chrysanthemums are delicate, so be careful not to crush them by accident. Yep, I’m glad you like them too— 

*sound of the bus leaving*

Nagi: …Ah.

Nagi: Excuse me, please wait. I need to get on too…!

~~~

Nagi: *out of breath*

Speedy delivery guy: Get outta the way! I gotta deliver this pizza within five minutes!

*Nagi slides to the right*

Nagi: Woah.

Kind worker: Watch out for that traffic cone!!

*Nagi hops back to the middle*

Nagi: Not a problem.

Taco vendor passing through: Welcome~ Happiness from the other side of the world, now at your doorstep~ Would you like to try our Mexican Avocado Tacos~

*Nagi slips and falls backwards*

Nagi: —Ah.

Nagi: (Turns out the skin of an avocado is pretty slippery too…)

Woman: That’s some gymnastics you just went through but, are you alright!?

Man: That spine’s arched so soundly even a lobster would be surprised…! Is your back okay!? I’ll call for an ambulance right now…!

Nagi: (I won’t make it in time if I’m loaded off in an ambulance…)

*Nagi gets back up*

Nagi: D-Don’t worry about it. Goodbye…!

*sound of tires screeching to a halt* 

Nagi: Oh.

Terrified witness A: Yikes, that guy just dived in front of that clearly luxurious looking car…

Terrified witness B: He’s a goner… 

Nagi: (...I wonder if I can reach a settlement with them. If I’m forced to work in some underground empire, I’ll need to check in with Kafka whether side-jobs are okay or not…)

*sound of a car window rolling down*

Liguang: What the hell are you doing, Hachinoya.

Notes:

Nagi specifically uses pompon mums for his bouquets this time, which is a smaller and round variety of chrysanthemums. Chrysanthemums in flower language can mean "noble," "believe in me," and "I love you" (specifically 君を愛す - kimi wo aisu, which is slightly different from the usual 愛してる - aishiteru)

Nyao-churu seems to be a play on ciao-churu which is a cat food brand.

Event Masterpost

Next Track