#but they came out Perfect to balance the rice and egg

[surohsopsisofclouds]

Once again I am in awe of Sun's cooking skills.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS ZERO Animate Tokuten Drama CD “A Vampire’s Late Night Snack Terror” [Reiji ver.]

Original title: 夜更かしヴァンパイアの食テロ飯 [レイジ編]

Source: Diabolik Lovers ZERO Vol. 8 Animate Tokuten CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Katsuyuki Konishi

Translator’s note: Honestly, Reiji deserves so much more respect than what he gets. Not only does this man get up early to get chores done because his other five brothers won’t do jack-shit, he even goes out of his way to do extra groceries and make a first-class breakfast for his girl. I feel like most of the other Diaboys could barely even toast a piece of bread without burning it lol. 

*Cling cling*

You enter the kitchen.

“...Hm? What is the matter? It is still too early to be getting up.” 

You ask him why he is up already.

“Unlike the other people at this home, I happen to have an extensive to-do list, so I must get started with all of my chores early, or else I will regret it afterwards. ーー More importantly, you mentioned something about not being able to sleep? If you are feeling unwell, I can get you some medicine.”

You explain.

“Do not tell me...You cannot sleep because of the hunger? How unfortunate...I cannot believe your stomach is growling despite getting three proper meals a day. You should know better.”

You apologize. 

“Well, I shall forgive you this once. I suppose it is partially my responsibility as well for not looking after you better. ーー I suppose it cannot be helped. We still have time before we have to leave to school, so I shall make you an early breakfast.”

You seem excited. 

“Yes. If you have any requests, go ahead. As you should be aware, I am quite confident in my own cooking abilities. No matter how complex or luxurious of a dish, I will prepare it to perfection. Well then, what is your order?”

You make your request.

“What did you...say just now?”

You repeat it.

“You are asking me to make...tamagogake-gohan, out of all things? You crack a raw egg (1) over the rice, add some soy sauce and you’re done. You want me to go out of my way to make something so simple?”

You ask him if he won’t make it. 

“No, I never said that I will not make it. ...Very well! I shall show you what a real plate of eggs over rice looks like!”

*Thud*

“In which case, we must first gathered the necessary ingredients. There is no time to lose! I shall call the limousine at once. Off we go!”

You seem surprised.

“What are you doing!? Come on, make haste!”

*TIMESKIP*

*Clatter clatter*

*Rustle*

“It is truly a blessing that there are stores which are still open in the middle of the night.”

You offer to pay for the parking fee since he has his hands full with the groceries.

“That would be a big help. This is the money. Here you go.”

 You ask Reiji what is inside the bags in his arms. 

“Excuse me? Can you not tell? They’re bags of rice. There’s high-quality rice inside.”

You seem surprised.

“You came along not even realizing why we took the car? Haah...You truly need to do something about how slow-witted you are. One cannot cook without the right ingredients, so we shall we going around to gather all of the necessary things. ーー The very best ones available!

Tamagogake-gohan consists of a perfectly balanced combination of eggs, soy sauce and rice with each ingredient being brought to its full potential. We cannot afford skimping on any of them. ...I happen to be a regular at this store, you see. The rice sold at this store has been selected by a rice connoisseur of which only a few exist in this country, so it is of the highest quality!”

You tilt your head to the side.

“You do not even know what a ‘rice connoisseur’ is...? Take should be common knowledge. Make sure to do your research afterwards, understood? Anyway, we are headed for the chicken farm next. I know it is quite late, but I am sure I can arrange something by using my connections.”

You frown.

“Why the hesitation? We are talking about the eggs which are the main star of the dish! I will not make any compromises!”

*Rustle*

“No more dawdling! Let’s go!”

*TIMESKIP*

The two of you return home.

*Thud*

“...Haah. That ended up taking more time than I anticipated.”

You admit being glad that you’re finally done. 

“What nonsense are you spouting? We finally gathered all necessary ingredients! If we’re ‘done’, why did we get these fresh ingredients in the first place? But we must make haste, or else the others will wake up.”

*Rustle*

“To the kitchen at once! We shall start cooking!”

The two of you go to the kitchen.

“We shall start by cooking the rice. I believe that I can skip over the instructions for this one.”

Reiji gets the rice cooker started. 

*Beep*

“Next we must choose which bowl to serve it in.”

You ask if that is important.

“Why of course. A high class meal is not only defined by the food itself. One must choose a plate which will truly bring the dish to life.” 

*Cling cling*

“Let me think...Usually I would go for something a little more ‘art nouveau’, but how about we use this bowl today? I am glad I decided to purchase this one for moments like this.”

You note that it is quite plain.

“What are you saying? A plain bowl is a fine piece of silverware as well! Just look at the gloss and pattern, simply marvelous!”

You raise one brow.

“Why are you giving me that look? I do understand that I might sound rather out-of-character right now, but look at it like this. I even went out of my way to buy a home-style takoyaki grill to hold a takoyaki party at home, so I must keep the name of the Sakamaki household high. ...More importantly, we should finish setting the table before the rice is done cooking. Well then, please lend me a hand.”

*TIMESKIP*

Reiji opens the rice cooker.

“It turned out rather nicely. The rice looks shiny and has the right amount of fluffiness to it. As to be expected of a dish made with a product from a true rice connoisseur!”

You point out that his glasses have fogged up. 

“Do not worry about my glasses being fogged up. It is only natural for this to happen when exposed to hot steam.”

*Cling cling*

“More importantly...Let us get started! ...Allow me to show you my skills! ーー I shall start by scooping the fluffy rice into the bowl. Rather than filling it to the brim, I will serve a moderate portion. This is the most elegant way to serve it. Then on top I will sprinkle some cod roe, dried seaweed and yuzu salt. ...It would be rather boring to stick to the basic recipe, no? This is my personal interpretation of the dish, do not worry. I can assure that it will taste sublime.”

He cracks an egg.

“Well then, last but not least we crack in a fresh, raw egg and pour some of this special soy sauce on top. ーー It is done. This is the Sakamaki household’s version of tamagogake-gohan!”

*Thud*

“Well then, here you go. Please dig in while it is hot.”

 You take a bite.

“How is it?”

You tell him that it’s delicious. 

“Why of course. It is a dish which was carefully crafted to bring out all of the aromas, flavors and textures to their fullest after all. The rich eggs and the deep flavor of the soy sauce go perfectly with the fluffy rice. However, right when you think that it might be a little blend and one-toned, the cod roe, seaweed and yuzu salt kick to add a new flavor profile so you never get tired of eating it. 

This is how tamagogake-gohan should be. Do you comprehend?”

You nod.

“Pleasing your palate is child’s play. ...Well then, usually I would go wake up the others around this hour, but I suppose we can postpone it a little for today.”

You ask Reiji if he will have breakfast as well.

“Yes, I figured this was a fine opportunity for me to enjoy a meal alongside you. You could say this is my award for all the hard work I put in. You do not mind, do you?”

He joins you at the table.

“Usually there is always someone making a fuss. I rarely ever get the chance to enjoy a meal in peace. In that regard, perhaps I should be grateful to you. However, make sure to warn me before you get peckish, okay?”

You nod.

“Very well. Let us dig in then.”

*Cling*

“...Mm. I suppose having a meal together with just the two of us like this is quite enjoyable every now and then.”

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) Raw eggs are commonly consumed in Japan since the country has no history of salmonella being found in eggs. By cracking the egg on top of steaming-hot rice and instantly mixing it together, the heat from the rice will also slightly cook the egg, so it’s not 100% raw when you eat it. Still, the consistency of the dish is quite ‘goopy’ - for lack of a better word - so I understand why a lot of people (myself included) would not find it very appetizing. :p

[gryptids]

end of the year asks!!!! 2, 9, 18, and 25 :]

2. Album of the year? Interpreting this two different ways! My fav album that came out this year is jazz is for ordinary people by berlioz (technically an EP but IDC), and my fav album that I listened to this year is Dummy by Portishead :]

9. Best month for you this year? I think November! I got in touch more with myself, grew my self confidence, and started taking writing classes that really sparked my creativity. I worked on a variety of creative projects that were really self-indulgent and fulfilling, and also had a lot of fun socializing with friends and family. It felt very balanced!

18. A memorable meal this year? I perfected my steak cooking technique this year!! Now I know how to make really delicious and simple steaks at home, and YOU CAN TOO!!

Gryptid's Foolproof And Depression-Friendly Steak Recipe: 1. Take your steak out of the fridge and get it to room temperature. This is important for the cooking step so you don't overcook the outside bits trying to get it to heat up. You want it to be room-room temperature before you start the next step. 2. Heat your pan up and throw a generous pat of butter in there. Do NOT skimp with the quality of the butter. I prefer Kerrygold, but any fancy butter will do. In the meantime, pat your steak dry and season all sides with salt & pepper. (You could get fancier with this if you wanted, but often salt & pepper are all you need.) 3. Throw your steak in the pan and spoon the butter over it as it cooks. I prefer my steak rare and usually cook it ~2 minutes on each side, depending on how big it is. You can touch the center of the steak and judge its done-ness by how springy/tender it is. 4. Once your steak is to your preferred done-ness, take it off the heat and let it rest for 5 minutes. This is a great time to make some instant mashed potatoes if you have the energy/desire. 5. Enjoy your incredibly delicious, super easy steak! Save any extra butter by storing it in a heat-safe vessel in the fridge - it's super yummy, and I often use it for buttered bread, pasta, and more! BONUS: If you have leftover steak, don't reheat it in the microwave! Instead, preheat your oven to around 250 degrees and throw your leftovers in a foil-covered oven-safe vessel for 20-30 minutes, checking periodically to make sure it doesn't overcook :) They make delicious additions to scrambled eggs, burritos, and your favorite rice dish.

25. Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one. Off the top of my head, my fav from *this year* (cuz most of my blorbos were created in years past) is the noir baddie Juliet I made for a City of Mist game. She killed a creepy director when he tried to steal her magical voice to open up the heavens and then acquired like. Four different boyfriends/girlfriends while trying to solve a mystery. She's incredibly dramatic and flirtatious but also WILL shoot you to death with her magical gun made from pure sound. My silly rabbit <3

Thank u for askin' !!!!! I feel like this year was tough in a lot of ways, but rewarding, too. On to the next!

[hueylengyong15]

Everything I did at Pavilion Damansara Heights.

Since it was the third day of CNY last week, I decided to go for an exploration around the soft opening of the mall. When we first arrived at the MRT station, I saw an advertisement promoting new restaurants that caught my attention to try them one day after its grand opening.

After exiting the car park, we used the escalator to go up to the first floor, I saw a giant red teddy bear holding a pink heart that said LOVE for Valentine's Day. Before stopping for food, I noticed an important Chinese Calligraphy banner quoted "The illusion of high humming is suitable for the eyes" which defines my mind for important things in the future as I work hard for this semester.

For lunch, I decided to eat at OMI Japanese Wagyu restaurant for an early Valentine's Day celebration since this holiday was coming up on Wednesday. I ordered the Grapefruit Yuzu soda which was sweet and sour with the fruity blueberries on top.

I tried their Signature Wagyu Udon which came with an excellent onsen egg and Black Pepper dressing. The sauce was delicious and tasty giving it a peppery kick. As for the wagyu, it was cooked to perfection as I was dipping the meat in the beef broth.

As for my father, he ordered the torched tofu rice bowl with a fish roe topped with onsen egg, edamame, red pickled radish, spring onions, Furikake (rice seasoning), and a black truffle sauce that was super savory and nutty that helped balance the flavor to the tofu. After taking a bite, the tofu was bouncy which was accompanied by the delicious ingredients that were added to the meal.

A side dish that we also tried was the Fried Okayama Oysters with their homemade sauce. The deep-fried oyster was completely coated with panko which gave it a good taste which topped it all up with a healthy piece of lettuce, white carrots, and purple cabbage strips.

Overall, I would recommend this Japanese restaurant because it has a peaceful atmosphere, fancy light decorations, and authentic wagyu for everyone to enjoy if they are interested in trying it.

After lunch, I went to the exhibition display filled with CNY decorations. I saw a Cherry Blossom memo tree filled with people's wishes in their memos. After seeing the tree filled with notes, I decided to write a wish that quoted, "May Everyone have a good CNY for this year!"

Once I wrote my wish on a small piece of paper, I hung it up on the artificial tree branch, so that people would prosper and live a longer life. My favorite part of this CNY expo was photographing a picture of the pretty, giant flower with a white pearl on top that reminded me of the National Flower of Malaysia.

Before heading back to the train station from Bandar Utama, we stopped at the PAUL French Cafe to get the Orange Brioche for the Lunar New Year festival. Unfortunately, the waiter at this establishment told me that the pastry was sold out due to the Valentine's Day celebration happening this Wednesday.

Luckily, I ordered a heart-shaped Brioche with a cup of PAUL's Hot Chocolate and a mini-Madeleine sponge cake. The Brioche was fluffy and soft, especially the chocolate icing that gave a sweet taste which made me fascinated about visiting Candyland.

I tried their famous Hot Chocolate, and it was chocolatey and sweet which gave it a rich cacao taste with the added sugar inside the drink. I also love the cozy interior that reminded me of an aesthetic French cafe in Paris which I planned to go there one day during the summer break.

Although some of the stores were not fully opened yet. I'm very grateful that I tried new foods and took a lot of photos in the exhibition that excited me the most during this trip. Hopefully, in a few months, the management team will construct the biggest movie theater for everyone to watch.

[40sandfabulousaf]

大家好! Another version of fish soup: this came with bitter gourd, tomatoes, julienned ginger, lettuce and small well-seasoned pork balls. Our moderately healthy local favourite is so popular, people try to recreate it at home. I've included 2 recipes below, so if you're open to expanding your healthy meals beyond salads and grain bowls, check them out. Switch up the fish and veggies for different flavours, add some tofu and serve it with rice or rice vermicelli.

SW and I liked the khai jiao (Thai omelette) at the diner we previously visited so much, we returned to try their seafood tom yum goong with rice and shared a khai jiao with shrimp. The tangy flavourful soup came with prawns, squid, tomato, Napa cabbage and mushrooms, perfect with fragrant rice. I found the khai jiao delicious with veggies and rice for a meatless meal, but this version with shrimp tasted even better. We'll return to try the other dishes; they have some interesting meat options that looked pretty tempting. The sides looked good too!

Besides fish soup, another moderately healthy local favourite is prawn noodle soup. I shared it once before; this is another version with larger prawns. I chose meepok (flat egg noodles) and, together with beansprouts, it was a qing (less oil) and balanced meal. The crustaceans were succulent and the broth was steaming hot prawny goodness. If you're open to trying this nourishing dish, I've included 2 recipes below - the second one also shows you the dry version (my upbringing is very Cantonese so it's soup for me all the way!).

There's been so much hype about European life expectancy and how their diet is the healthiest. In Asia, we aren't that far off in spite of a fall in life expectancy due to covid; in fact, we're doing better than some European countries. With our nation preparing for an ageing population and spreading health awareness now, hopefully we can look forward to remaining productive, agile and mobile as we grow older. The importance of balanced meals and exercise will continue as we advance in years, as is reducing stress. At 46yo, self care to me is no longer about luxuries - it's about getting the basics right.

Fitness fads in recent years are about getting swole for bragging rights but as countries pushing it experience deteriorating mortality rates, is this sustainable (is it even natural to be this huge)? To get that muscular, their diets suggest large quantities of protein, including red meat. It may look good to them, but at what price when their nations' lives are getting shorter? To start with, is a nutritional imbalance even a good thing? 下次见!

[tastesoftamriel]

Hello again, Talviel! Today I come to you with not a logistical question, but simply;

What are the best "food on a stick, cooked over an open fire" dishes you've come across in your travels? It's one of my favorite ways to eat, so I'd love to hear about some interesting new things I could try!

Radiant regards,

Rowan Redmane

Dear Rowan,

Luckily for you, there is quite an array of foods on sticks across Tamriel, as everyone enjoys the portability of skewer snacks (also good for  impaling skeevers when you're done). These are few of my favourites!

Altmer

While eating with your hands is generally frowned upon in Summerset, sticking your food onto a skewer is a good way to avoid greasing your fingers while still maintaining that carefully crafted air of casual dining. However, there aren't particularly any fire/stick dishes that really stand out in Altmeri cuisine compared to the other races, as it's really not the preferred dining format. I really love a type of sweet, cherry blossom-infused chilled rice cake that's stuffed with creamy centres with flavours like black sesame, almonds, and red bean paste. It's a delicious dessert on the go, but it is very chewy, so try not to run while eating...

Argonians

If there's one race that's a master of the skewer, it's definitely the Argonians. From frog legs to seafood and stuffed flowers, nothing beats a good barbecue in Black Marsh. I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised by a witchetty grub and cricket skewer I had in Lilmoth recently, which were cooked over a coal grill after a good marinade in chili paste. The insects were seasoned with a delicious mix of local spices, and packed the right amount of crunch while still being tender and flavourful.

Bosmer

Skewers in Valenwood are generally made from metal or bone, as dead wood makes for brittle sticks. I am slightly obsessed with the goat meat satay from Marbruk, which packs loads of flavour from local seasonings like torchbug treacle sauce and pork scratching salt. The meat is perfectly charred on the outside, juicy inside, and very flavourful.

Bretons

The Bretons make one of my favourite childhood desserts: doughnuts on sticks. I'm not talking about those grotesque, giant things with holes in them when I say doughnuts- these are small round beauties that are sometimes stuffed with things like chocolate or jam before deep frying. They're then dusted with cinnamon sugar, and stacked six per stick. So simple, but so delightfully fluffy!

Dunmer

Since the Argonians made the list with bugs on sticks, I'm going to try something a little same-same-but-different for the Dark Elves. I personally really enjoy kwama egg bites, which are bits of boiled kwama egg that's dipped into a nix-hound meat batter and cooked in a pan until crisp. They're usually drizzled with saltrice vinegar, a bit of melted scuttle, and topped with crispy hackle-lo nori.

Imperials

Coastal Cyrodiil is home to some of the best seafood in all of Tamriel, and it invariably got put on sticks. I really love a plain old seafood skewer with the freshest king prawns, swordfish, scallops, and squid. What sets it apart, though, is the final dressing of a spicy-sweet lemon barbecue sauce and a dash of smoked powdered deer penis for flavour. What? It's traditional 3E Cyrodiilic cuisine!

Khajiit

Elsweyr is one of my favourite places to eat, because every meal from finger-foods to opulent banquets are always perfectly balanced perfection. I'm a huge fan of the fresh, hot egg waffles that come on sticks with a gooey moon sugar syrup dip. The waffles are bubble-shaped, with a crispy exterior and a fluffy, sweet centre. While I love my Breton doughnuts, Khajiiti egg waffles are a very close second.

Nords

Everyone knows about the honey nut treat, but nobody pays attention to poor old fried rabbit meatballs these days! Seasoned rabbit mince is shaped into small balls and skewered, before being fried in lard until golden brown on the outside. It doesn't sound like much, but visit The Bee and Barb for a taste of this true Skyrim snack (even more authentic with a snowberry dipping sauce)!

Orcs

Were you expecting me to say meat, or radishes? Surprise, it's both! At a recent visit to Dushnikh Yal, they'd just broken out the previous year's durzog-and-echatere sausage, which we cooked on sticks over a fire along with radishes and sweet potatoes. I could have said "grilled pears on sticks for dessert", which we did indeed have, but where's the excitement in that unless someone's pear catches fire?

Redguards

No, I'm not going to suggest goat again. Instead, I'm going to rave about the amazing king crab and mantis shrimp skewers I had in Stros M'Kai recently, which were grilled over a coconut-coal fire, giving the seafood a truly delightful aroma. The seafood was cooked in their shells on sharp metal skewers, and came with a coriander and calamansi lime salsa for dipping. Truly mouthwatering stuff.

[morimallow]

Vitamins C and D

(Osamu Miya x Male!Reader)— I've been reading yaoi and gay smut for so long but this is the first time I'm writing one, so.. Bye.

Warnings: food play, nipple play (?), dirty talk (?), anal sex, blowjob, sleepy and horny Osamu Miya, oh, and butt plug

You were as relaxed as you could be, trying to whisk some eggs for breakfast. The seasoned soup was boiling, the rice was cooked, pre-heated pan for the omelette. It was a peaceful morning except that you've been moaning because of minimal chest movements due to the fabric in contact with your sensitive nipples.

You did a good job making breakfast for someone who just got fucked and got their nipples played with before coming to the kitchen.

After a long time being with your boyfriend, you found out that if nipples were constantly played with, it becomes sensitive to everything — even the fucking wind. You'd be like, “Oh, wearing my tops when my nipples are this sensitive is making me horny all the time so I'll just go topless or whatever,” and finding out that the cold wind is even harsher in abusing your hard nipples.

By the time you turned off the stove, you felt your backside being enveloped in Osamu's warmth. His hands immediately went for your still-hardened nipples hiding behind the apron you were wearing and the other pulling your boxers just below the curve of your bum.

“'Samu, not now,” you whispered as he started to rub his rock-hard dick between you ass cheeks. You sucked in a breath when he prodded the tip just at your entrance, “I'm still sore.. please..”

“Ye forgot to take in yer vitamins last night. Peel an orange for me, baby,” turning you around to face him, he handed you an orange.

You started peeling the orange, trying so hard not to squeeze out the juice as your boyfriend crunched up the sides of the apron between your chest — lazily sucking, licking, and grazing his teeth on your hardened buds. It hurts, really, but the way Osamu can perfectly balance the pain and pleasure like how he does with his dishes makes you mewl and weaken in front of him, makes you grip to whatever near you to gather strength and in this case, it was the orange you were peeling.

Osamu licked the sweet drops of orange pulp rolling down on your chest, “Yer the one who needs this.”

The oranges he picked from the farmers' market were no doubt the sweetest and freshest fruits he ever purchased but why not taking in two vitamins in one go?

You put two orange slices in your mouth, made Osamu rest his hips on the edge of the table and dropped to your knees in front of him, instantly taking in half of his fat cock in your mouth.

He seriously thought you gave the best blowjobs but this one was on another level. He couldn't help but enjoy the relish, new feeling of his dick in your warm and wet mouth, adorned with sticky and tangy feeling of the orange. Osamu totally lost his shit, grabbing a handful of your hair and started face-fucking you.

The sweet and musky taste in your mouth turned into sweet and salty by the time Osamu released his warm seed straight to your dry throat. You swallowed it all while his dick was still in your mouth and then releasing it with a loud pop.

Removing the boxers that hugged your ass perfectly, you leaned towards your lover, “I think I didn't absorb much of vitamin D yet, 'Samu. Mind injecting it inside me?”

He picked you up, entered your tight hole the second you clung onto him for dear life. Osamu held you so close that you felt electricity in your nipples everytime he helps you bounce up and down his dick.

“Is this how ye want to take yer vitamins every day, huh? Want me—” he placed you on the dining table, “— to directly shoot it inside yer fucking greedy hole? Is that what you want?” The only thing in your mind was how good he fucked you. The only thing coming out of your mouth was his name. The only thing inside you was his monster cock.

His hand travelled from your navel, to your bursting nipples, then to your jaw to make you face him. Your face was so fucking lewd, he had to control himself to not come on your ruined face but he managed to ask you one more time, “Is that what ye want? Tell me and I'll come inside yer filthy hole every mornin' if ye really want me to.”

As his hand was squishing your cheeks, you managed to answer him, “Y-Yesh.. Fuckin' fill me up efery day, 'Thamu! Ahh!”

He thrusts became faster, harder, and sloppier by the minute and still managed to hit and brush your prostate which made you a writing mess under him and in his eyes, you looked like a freshly caught fish — best be eaten raw.

He leaned in to play with your nipples again, his thrusts matching the way his hand pumped your neglected dick. It was rough, it was absolutely fucking perfect. Your heels dug holes on Osamu's firm ass as you both came at the same time. His cock was throbbing inside you, pulsing as it contrasted the tightness of your pink — now painted white by Osamu's cum — walls.

You both were catching your breath and Osamu was lazily pumping your softening cock and he was quick to replace his dick with the gray fox tail butt plug he always wanted for you to use.

“Ya like this, don't ya? Ya like being full of my cum the whole day, yeah?”

The sudden intrusion made you shake uncontrollably under him because you were still sensitive from your orgasm and Osamu licked his lips, thinking of what he did to deserve someone so perfect for him in all aspects.

He cleaned you up and made you wear one of his shirts that reaches just below your balls. It was a truly wonderful sight to see for Osamu — your nipples, which are still hard until now, were visible through the thin material of the shirt, your smooth legs remind him of how you would pull him closer to his crotch, and your ass — your sweet and perfect ass with its entrance locked up with a butt plug to keep his seed inside your ass.

“Yer so fuckin' sexy, sweet cheeks.”

The Aftermath (requested bonus scene)

M. List

[teamhappyme]

OMG “I remember practicing how to ask you out to the mirror.” WITH PETER????

okay this POURED out of me. i literally wrote this during class cause I was on a roll. once again, red coming thru with the cute prompts.

pairing: peter stone x female!reader

prompt: “i remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror”

word count: 1.5k

warnings: the fluffiest fluff that’s ever fluffed, my aggressive use of commas (sorry not sorry)

****

You’d been holed inside your apartment 12 hours shy of a week now, with what started off as a simple cold over the weekend progressed into a nasty 24 hour stomach bug. Carisi had come to check on you, dropping off some of his mom’s soup and homemade cards from Jesse and Billie. Once you’d described what you’d been through, he made sure you stayed out the rest of the week. Despite the fact you’d been symptom free for 48 hours.

Carisi was, in simple terms, a baby when it came to getting sick.

You hadn’t taken a week off of work in two years, so you didn’t really know what to do with yourself. You binged a few shows on Netflix, read a few books that had been collecting dust on your bookshelf, and when you finally felt up to it, deep cleaned the whole apartment. 

Unfortunately for you, Peter was in court the whole week. He called you in between recesses and during food breaks to check in, feeling awful that he couldn’t be there with you. He got home late every night that week, trial prep keeping him at the office, and you were asleep every time he walked through the door. 

But you always left him a note on the counter, waiting for him to come home, reminding him that you were okay, and that what he was doing was more important. 

So when he came home before seven on Friday night, you were shocked. 

“Y/n/n, you home?” He called out from the entrance, and you couldn’t help the smile on your face.

“You know I haven’t left this place in a week, Peter Stone.”

He kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie, all the while balancing the take out in his hands. He made his way into the living room, but stopped when he saw you curled into the corner of the couch.

Your hair looked a little damp, like you had recently gotten out of the shower. Your glasses were perched on the bridge of your nose, not bothering with your contacts once this week. One of his  sweatshirts covered your torso, and he remembered the first time you stole a piece of clothing from him: you complained that it fit you just like one of your own sweatshirts would. But it never stopped you from stealing more of his clothing. Comfy black joggers and warm fuzzy socks finished you out, leaving him speechless only feet from you.

You were beautiful to him in every possible way. And he reveled in the fact that he got to come home to you, completely comfortable and lounged out on the couch, every single night.

“I didn’t expect you to be home this early,” You started, sitting up on the couch.

“We made a deal after the victim’s testimony. He’s going away for 15 years.” He said and settled next to you on the couch.

“That’s great,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek and took the bags out of his hand. “But what did you bring home for dinner.”

He smiled and helped you unpack the chinese food. “Your favorite from the place down the block. Now that you can taste again, I thought you should have your favorite.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” You questioned, before ripping open the chopsticks and grabbing the fried rice. 

He froze for the second time that night, completely and utterly enthralled by you. Maybe it was the fact that you’d been home sick for a week, that he barely talked to you in person for days, or the fact that you were his person, waiting for him to come home in your comfiest clothing, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. It was all of it. 

It was you that made him decide this was the moment.

He stood up, jogging to the bedroom without any warning. You furrowed your brow, placing the carton on the coffee table in front of you.

“What are you doing?”

“Stay there!” Peter yelled out as he opened his sock drawer, hands touching the blue velvet box tucked into the corner. “I’m just grabbing something.”

He looked in the mirror on his way out of the bedroom, removing his tie completely before giving himself an encouraging nod. As he walked back into the hallway and saw you waiting there on the couch, fiddling with the chopsticks, he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

You heard his footsteps getting louder, and you turned to see him coming back to you. He had a gigantic grin on his face, one that you rarely saw in your day to day life.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“No reason,” He said and plopped down beside you. He took a bite of an egg roll, a large sip of water, and turned to you again.

You laughed at his frantic movements, tucking your foot underneath you as he continued to fidget. “Okay, what has got you like this?”

“Just you.” He said, and you felt your cheeks get warm. 

“Peter,”

“Seriously, I mean it.” He looked down for a second, before meeting your eyes again. “I’ve been planning this for months now, and this definitely wasn’t how I pictured the moment happening, but I saw you, all warm, and safe, and happy, when I walked in tonight, and I just didn’t want to wait another minute.”

He held your hand as he slid off the couch, propping himself up on one knee. It took you a minute to realize what he was doing, but once you did, you covered your mouth with your free hand, a smile still shining through. 

“I remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror for weeks, but I really didn’t have anything planned to say, which is shocking considering I practice my closing arguments for hours and hours,” You joined him in a laugh, and squeezed his hand to let him know you didn’t care. “But I love you. I love you more than I ever thought possible. You make me happy, and I don’t want to spend another day without you knowing how happy you make me. So,” 

He let go of your hand so he could open the small blue box, a beautiful solitaire ring staring back at you. You looked back at him through the tears forming in your eyes, and waited for him to ask you. 

“Will you marry me?”

You dropped your hand from your face so that he could see the full extent of your happiness, tears flowing down your cheeks now. Did he even have to ask?

“Yes,” You said, frantically nodding. 

His smile grew larger, if that was even possible, before resting a hand on your cheek, leaning forward to give you a kiss. Your hand found the back of his neck, your fingers combing through his hair as his thumb gently brushed over your cheekbone. You smiled into it, and pulled away only when you needed to catch your breath. 

“I guess this is yours now,” He gently took the ring from it’s padding, holding your left hand in his own. 

“It’s beautiful,” You whispered as he slipped it on your finger. A perfect fit.

“Liv and Amanda helped me pick it out. They were worried it was too simple, but I saw it, and knew it was for you.”

It was simple. Just a gold, solitaire diamond ring. But it’s all you’ve ever wanted, and Peter knew that. 

“I love it. It’s perfect.” You tore your gaze away from the sparkling stone to look at your new fiance. “I love you, Peter.”

He bowed his head, but you didn’t let him stay sulking for long. You held his hands in your face, and he looked back up at you. There were some tears in his own eyes, which only made your own fall again.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He smiled, and you gently brushed the tears that were freely falling down his face. “And I can’t wait to marry you.”

You gently kissed him again, and you felt him smile into it. He had to pull away before breaking out into a laugh. 

“I can’t believe I proposed to you after you just had the stomach bug.” You joined in his laughter, totally forgetting what you’d gone through this week.

“Well, it just shows me how much you love me. My sickness and all.”

He pecked your lips one more time before joining you on the couch again. You settled into his side, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you lifted your hand to look at the ring. 

“You happy?” He asked.

“Incredibly happy, counselor.” He kissed your head as you pulled out your phone, getting ready to take a selfie of the two of you, and the beautiful ring. 

You looked at the photo, your smiles both larger than life, and got ready to send it to the squad and your family. 

“Ready?” You asked him, and he smiled back at you. It was real now. And he was so excited for everyone to know.

“Ready.”

****

[pastel-odette]

Tart

Pairing: Shukita

Rating: General Audiences

Summary: Akira tries baking for Yusuke

Notes: I am in the middle of my Persona 5 Royal playthrough (I started writing this before I got the game) so there may be some inaccuracies. This is basically me trying to get back into writing. Not beta read.

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

The plan was simple: surprise Yusuke with a blackberry tart.

He had all the ingredients. Flour, eggs, sugar, heavy cream, butter, blackberries, etc. etc., all sat upon the counter ready to be made into a sweet treat for his boyfriend to enjoy. Morgana was gone too. Futaba had recently splurged on expensive cat supplies since her recent programming project had paid so well, and despite Morgana’s insistence that he was not a cat, and did not need to be treated as such, he still went over to her house at the first opportunity.

It had been a while since Akira had last made a tart. When he still lived with his parents, back when they didn’t see him as a failure delinquent, his mother would bake all the time. Most likely still does. It was her job, and her hobby as well. Little Akira would love to help her around the kitchen and share what they made all around the neighborhood. He had not baked since he came to Tokyo, not even after the Metaverse disappeared and the Phantom Thieves officially disbanded.

Then, a few days ago, while the couple were out shopping, they passed a bakery, Yusuke muttered about wanting to try more sweets. ‘I could probably make something just as good,’ Akira thought to himself. Then he realized that nothing was stopping him. He had recently come to terms with the fact that his parents were terrible people deep down, so why not reclaim a fun activity he used to enjoy so much, and give his boyfriend something nice in the process?

He pressed the crust into the edges of the tin, placing tin foil on top and filling it with rice so that the pastry didn’t puff up too much, and placed it in the oven. Yusuke wouldn’t be home for a while, his work was being displayed at an exhibit and he was asked to attend, so Akira didn’t have to worry about time.

Yusuke had made quite the name for himself in the two years since they had met. His time in the Phantom Thieves had given him enough inspiration to last a lifetime, then his relationship with Akira gave certain pieces the softness and tangible reality of human connection that more people resonated with. Akira led a more civilian life at Leblanc after Sojiro decided to retire, some customers the same as when he first came and new faces he enjoyed getting to know, and he had never felt more whole.

He tossed the ingredients for the filling together and thought about how grateful he was to have all of this.

Once the tart was out of the oven and left on the counter to cool, the telltale jingle of keys sounded at the front door before it swung open.

“I’m home,” Yusuke called as he bent down to remove his shoes. Akira put the last dish in the drying rack before shaking off his hands. “Welcome back.”

“What is that scrumptious smell? Did you cook something?” Yusuke asked before leaning down and planting a kiss on his partner’s lips.

“Baked, actually. It’s a blackberry tart.”

“Oh my! I wasn’t aware you indulged in such a hobby. May I try some?”

The two of them sat down, the tart split between them. Akira watched as Yusuke took a bite, the latter closing his eyes and humming before a soft smile came to his face.

“Simply exquisite. It is the perfect balance of sweet and sour that creates a delightful and stimulating experience. Where did this come from, though? I had thought you incapable of baking since you had taken desserts off the menu at Leblanc.

“Well,” Akira looked down and started to fiddle with his slice, “it’s kinda complicated, you know? I baked with my mom a whole lot, so after my parents kicked me out anything to do with them became sort of like a bad memory. I don’t know. It’s stupid. But if it’s for your sake, then I don’t really mind.”

“I see… I am glad you have recovered enough from your past to do this.”

Akira began to bake a lot more for Yusuke after that. It started slowly, about once every month, until it became once every two weeks, then a few times a week. He changed the menu at Leblanc too, and people became more attracted to the sweet smell. They always ended up becoming regulars because of the curry and coffee, though.

It was a part of his recovery Akira had no idea he needed. Something so small and meaningless that he didn’t really miss all that much became so much more after everything he had gone through. Everyone around him always seemed a little happier while eating his confections, and he was happy to make them. Yusuke was always the first to try a new recipe, and would always help him clean up afterwards. It was because of him that he started up this hobby again, and it was because of his support that he was able to continue doing it. Who knew a simple act of service could amount to so much?

[ussjellyfish]

fic: Work-Life Balance pt 2 | AoS | Philinda | mature

Phil wants to make dinner but Melinda's kitchen is really empty, so they get takeout and talk about how he got here.

read on Ao3

Interdisciplinary Field Work Seminar 105 - maintaining adequate nutrition while on assignment 

"You have one pan." 

"And a wok." Melinda sits at the counter in her kitchen, watching Phil lose his mind over a cup of tea. Her apartment's felt too big since she moved in. Too many years sleeping on planes and in bases. Once all she wanted was her own bed, now it's too big to have all this space.

"A wok I can work with. Where is it?" 

"In the cupboard over the fridge, I think." 

He opens it up and takes it down. "Your dad brought this, didn't he?"

"He didn't want me to be totally stuck if I ever wanted to cook." 

"Then you have at least one good knife."

Melinda sips her tea, smirking over the cup. "I have great knives."

"Let me guess, they're barely used." 

"Like new."

Phil sighs from the fridge. "What have you been eating?"

"The cafeteria on campus is good."

"You made sure it was good."

"Can't have future agents distracted by terrible food."

"And you knew you'd eat there."

"It's so convenient."

 He shakes his head, opening the drawer full of spare takeout chopsticks and tiny condiment packets she never throws away. "This is an impressive collection."

"I support local restaurants."

"I bet you're on a first name basis."

He looks through the fridge again and shakes his head. "It's hopeless. Pick your favorite local restaurant and get extra egg rolls, please." 

"Extra?"

He shrugs, resting his hands on the counter. "I'm hungry."

Picking up her phone, she dials and orders in Mandarin, it's the fastest, and Phil loves to pretend it annoys him. 

"Extra spicy?"

"All hot peppers, nothing else."

"Oh good." He opens the fridge again and takes out a beer. "At least you have decent beer."

She hasn't drank any of it in just about a month, but Yo-Yo and Mack like a beer when they visit. They were the last ones here. She never thought Phil would be here and her eyes sting again because he's in her kitchen. She's done crying, except she's absolutely not. 

"Can I look around?" 

"If you're done insulting my kitchen."

"Your kitchen is perfect. It's like the day you moved in."

Melinda watches him from the stool for a moment, then slips down, following him as he wanders around her apartment. She hasn't bothered to keep one since she joined their team. She had a room on each of the bases, a bunk on the planes, but having her own kitchen again is still strange, even after a year.

Phil stays out of the bedroom, because he's too polite, and he ends up in the living room, touching her trinkets. It's not much, just some things that remind her of home: a few of her martial arts trophies her dad insisted she had to have, some pieces of Chinese art, some SHIELD stuff. He picks up her old SHIELD badge, then one next to it. 

Reading his own name on the back, he smiles. That spark of affection and longing glows in her mind like a lamp flicking on. "You kept it."

"You left me everything." 

"I did, but--" he trails off and his regret hits her like a gut punch. "I'm sorry."

She rests her hand on the door frame, just for a second. "It was fine. Your funeral was nice."

"Oh?" He strokes his old badge again and turns to her.

She must be holding onto the door too tightly because concern rushes over her like warm water. Melinda takes a second, trying to center herself. He's worse than Daisy; his feelings crash into her mind. "

You okay?"

"I'm not used to you."

"Sorry."

"It's all right it's just-" she pauses, shuts her eyes. She's better at this. She's gotten fairly comfortable with her powers over time, but she hasn't had him thinking with his heart out in the open. Daisy's just as intense, but she's easier. "You're so loud."

"What can I do?" He crosses to her, hand out. When he touches her shoulder, it's calm. He's calm. 

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?" Still calm, as peaceful as a cloudless sky. Phil walks her over to the couch, guides her down and then disappears into the kitchen. Did he just need to help? His curiosity gleams like sunlight, but it's not as intense as his concern. 

"Daisy will think about something, she'll need a hug or think of something funny and I feel it. Sometimes I laugh before she can tell the joke or I hug her."

He hands her a cold glass of water and sits next to her. "You hug her?"

"Immediately." 

"I love that." He leans back, chuckling. "Melinda May, a hugger."

Him being smug is very grounding. Maybe because it's so familiar. She sips her water, trying to focus on the physical reality of her body. It's cold in her throat, and her chest. The condensation on the glass chills her fingers. 

"And your powers came from some other dimension?"

"It's not a nice place."

"Didn't sound like it." He stretches his arm out along the back of the couch and he's almost holding her. Not quite, because they're not like they were, but she spent so many days just wrapped in him in Tahiti that the idea of being able to touch him again is wonderful. 

"What's it like?"

"Overwhelming. Annoying."

"You don't hate it."

She hates that he knows that. "I don't. It's useful. Helped us beat the Chronicoms."

"I saw that. You're a badass when you use emotions."

"Very funny."

Brushing her shoulder, he slides his arm down when she leans into him. It's perfect, warm and comfortable and familiar and everything. He feels something similar, and it rushes over both of them. Maybe she sent it, sometimes it's hard to tell. 

She shuts her eyes and lets her memory drift back. It was a beautiful funeral. So much worse than the first one. "Everyone said nice things when you died. You didn't deserve all of them, especially what Daisy said, but we were together when we let you go."  

"That's what I hoped." He toys with her hair, fascinated with a lock of it. "I like your hair long."

"I've been too busy to--"

"You're beautiful." He kisses her forehead, holding her close. "May, I'm so sorry."

That regret washes up like a downdraft, sucking, tugging; cold and miserable. Her eyes sting. Maybe it's his. It's enough to make her head spin, though she's been a little sensitive lately. 

"You're here now." That calms him a little. She rests her head on his shoulder and his regret softens, lightens. 

"I am. Still doesn't seem real."  His hand wraps into hers and it's the most real thing in her apartment. 

"Might not for awhile."

"I don't know, being back from the dead should be easy. I've done it a few times now."

"Other you died once too."

"Wow. Even the immortal me died?"

"He was being heroic." 

"I'd never do that."

"Course not." 

He nuzzles her hair, close enough that she can smell him and he's him, from his heartbeat to the roughness of his palm against her hand. She takes a breath, and he's still here. 

"Your heart?"

"Hmm?" he turns, trying to catch her eyes. "My heart?"

"Is it all right?"

"Oh yeah, they did some tissue regeneration pod thing."

She runs her fingers over the back of his hand. "I was in that."

"After you got stabbed."

"That was unpleasant."

He kisses her forehead, seeking her and calming them both. "Daisy said it was rough."

Understatement. "You saw Daisy?" 

He nods, squeezing her hand. "First person I saw when I woke up." 

"Good."

"She's come into herself so much."

"Has her own team." His pride in Daisy warms her heart, mixing with her own. Staring at each other, they smile, easy, comfortable, and ridiculous at the same time. It's too easy to smile at him. Too familiar. 

"We've all come a long way."

"We have." 

He leans in, and that little frission of desire isn't her. That's him fantasizing about kissing her and it's the most arousing thing. In the moment before they kiss, she's entirely wrapped up in how he feels abut her leaning closer, her breath mingling with his. It's gentle, wistful, warm, and sweet and she's falling into the past. Maybe tumbling into the future because he's here, hers again, and he's whole. 

He sighs into her mouth, reaching for the back of her neck, pulling her closer, and they fall into it. Into each other. Her relief and love melts into his and it's harmony somehow. She could stay there, lips on his, tasting him, for the rest of the evening but her doorbell chimes.

"Food."

"Right." He pulls away, touching her chin. "I'll go grab it."

"Tell her I loved the mango sticky rice."

He smirks and nods. "Okay, exactly that."

She drags the coffee table over the sofa while he's getting the food and grabs some of her favorite chopsticks from the drawer. The ones in the blue wrapper are just nicer than the red ones and she saves them. Phil won't appreciate it and she takes out a fork and a spoon, just in case. Melinda sets down a beer for him and forces herself to drink the rest of her water. Can't get dehydrated, even though it already feels like she has to pee more than normal, but that has to be in her head. 

"The very nice woman who delivered our dinner said you are welcome for the sticky rice and her mother gave you some special dessert since you had a friend over." 

"If you're lucky it's red bean buns, theirs are spectacular."

"I feel pretty lucky, all considered." Phil sets the bag down on the table and strokes her cheek. "It's been a neat day."

"Neat?"

"Peachy."

"Oh no, don't start quoting Sousa just because you were on a plane with him." 

."He's a SHIELD legend."

"You're a SHIELD legend," she reminds him, opening up the containers and passing him chopsticks. "You're the Academy namesake."

"Yeah, that's a little awkward."

She takes a bite and smiles. The food's almost as good as her father's. "You can just go around introducing yourself as Agent May, I hear we've gotten married."

"You heard that?" 

"A few students who came to office hours have been convinced you're my husband since the first quarter. I didn't correct them."

"Agent May, huh?" he jokes, grinning over his egg roll. 

"I'm a professor now, you can be Agent."

"I might try that out."

"Should cause less of a stir than 'Coulson'." 

"I know, really awkward being the guy who the whole place is named after."

"Works for Stark."

"If you're going to make a crack about my ego and his..."

She steals the last half an egg roll and chuckles. "Hadn't crossed my mind." 

"Uh huh."

"So tell me what happened with Daisy." 

"My resurrection?" 

"Yeah, you started and then you got distracted."

"Oh, I got distracted."

"You did."

"Shame on me," Phil teases. "I woke up on the Zephyr Three, which was kind of a trip because there was only one when we got off in Tahiti."

"They're working on a fourth."

"Good to know."  He struggles with a slippery piece of broccoli and she grabs it with her chopsticks, feeding it to him easily. "Thanks." 

She brushes sauce from his lip and they lean closer and he stops her with a finger on her lips. 

"I can't tell you my story if we're going to be distracted." 

Admonished, she shakes her head and keeps eating. "Fine, no distractions." 

"Thank you, so I woke up in the tissue regeneration pod you mentioned, on Zephyr Three, with Daisy, Agent Sousa and Daisy's sister Kora, who was a fun new addition to this timeline."

"And they came to get you, but their ship doesn't have a time drive."

"Yeah, so the time drive they had to borrow from Fitz-"

"Who never wants anyone to use it."

"I heard it's very complicated." Phil takes a moment to eat, giving up on the chopsticks and using the fork. "The other me, which is weird, that's still weird for me, said there was something he had to make right. So he, another you-"

"Wait, another me?"

"Yeah, LMD you who blew up the playground."

That's a surprise, but nice, in a way. The other Phil won't be alone. "How'd they get her back?" 

"Printed her out, reuploaded her with Chronicom tech, I'm a little hazy on the details."

"Were you going to tell me?"

Phil gives her his best innocent smile. "I just did."

"Great."

"So the techy version of us helped Daisy and her team grab me from the beach in Tahiti--"

Where he died, looking at the stars with her on a blanket, one beautiful clear night when he fell asleep and just...stopped. She nearly drops her chopsticks at the memory and sets them down, reaching for her water. 

"We were looking at the stars. It was a dark moon and it was so beautiful."

"And I--"

She finishes when he trails off. Her voice almost too soft. "I fell asleep first so I don't know when, but yeah, you were gone before the sun came up."

He takes a long sip of his beer, then reaches over to rest his hand on her knee. "I remember that night, you were so beautiful asleep in the starlight. I could have watched you forever."

So that was it. His last thought on Earth was about her.  Her eyes sting and she grabs one of the paper napkins. 

"Hey." His surge of concern sends her over and her tears run hot. "I'm sorry."

"It was beautiful. It was the best time of my life and then you--"

He kisses her cheek, then the other, nuzzling her tears away. "This is why I had to come back. We deserved more time."

"They said that?"

"Daisy did, and FitzSimmons, Mack signed off on the mission. Everyone, including us, now that I think about it. Absolutely everyone thinks we should give ourselves some more time."

"What are the other us going to do?"

"Take a team on Zephyr Two, see the galaxy. Keep each other safe."

She leans into his shoulder and sighs, only half joking. "Sounds exhausting."

"Doesn't it?" Phil finishes his beer and sets down the empty bottle. "Space is beautiful, sure, but there's a point where you just want to settle down and order from the same Chinese restaurant three times a week."

"They're good to me."

"I know, they sent these." He holds up a red bean bun and grins. "Apparently you should date more."

Melinda winces. "Don't you start."

"I heard--"

"Oh, I know what you heard. I hear it every Friday if I order for one."

They laugh as she pretends to steal a bite of his bun, then they're too close again, nearly touching and this time he tastes like red bean and Elena's good beer and forever doesn't seem like enough time to keep him here with her. 

"Stay, please." 

"Okay." 

He cleans up, tucking leftovers away into her nearly empty fridge while she watches him from the sofa. He refills her water, fussing without even thinking about it and settles down next to her, His arm slips naturally around her and she curls in, legs up on the sofa. 

"Daisy said they grabbed from from the moment I died and replaced me with a genetically identical corpse."

"You were cremated so that should be fine."

"Hopefully the timeline's intact. Thanks to Kora and some magic hand thing--"

"Her powers are impressive, and useful, now that she's on her side."

"You'll have to tell me that story," he asks.

Melinda yawns into her hand. "Remind me." 

"We have time."

She curls in closer, shutting her eyes. "We do."

"What a gift."

"We deserve it."

He kisses her forehead, then lifts her hand to kiss her fingers. "We really do." 

She falls asleep there, not intending to. He's probably still talking, and she's so tired. 

"You should go to bed."

"I should get things for you and the couch." She starts to sit up, yawning again and he rubs her back.

"I'm sure I can find sheets."

"The guest bedroom is made up."

"I saw, it's Daisy's, but thanks."

Technically it is a guest room, but Daisy does have her Earthly possessions all over it because she didn't want to keep an apartment. 

"It's a nice couch." 

She scoffs and shakes her head. "Come sleep with me, it's not like we--"

"Right." He swallows hard but stands, offering her a hand up. "I'll turn down the bed then, you brush your teeth."

"Yes dear."

He pauses, grinning, and with him in it her apartment's more like home than it's ever been. When he crawls into bed next to her, smelling like her toothpaste, it's almost the most content she's been since the sand and the waves.

Except this is endless. 

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (40/?)

S1, OP2

Music 1

“Kusunoki...”

Kunikida’s voice sounded awkward, strained.

His hand seemed glued to the back of his neck as he kept rubbing at it self-consciously, his broad shoulders seeming that much smaller as he shrank to a slouch behind me. I felt my own hands growing sweaty and tightening around the strap of my bag as my eyes darted around the wide lawn, searching desperately for a free spot to set up for our picnic.

But it was no use.

The entire park was already packed.

And we were only a little off-schedule too...

I sighed and Kunikida let out a noise that sounded more like it had come from a deeply wounded animal than a person. Still, his words came through, loud and clear:

“I’m really sorry...”

I turned over my shoulder and shot him a wobbly grin.

“It’s okay, Kunikida-san. W-we’ll figure something out.”

But as I turned around and scanned my surroundings once again, I realized just how difficult it would be to find a place to sit. I’d purposefully set the alarm for lunch hour so we could get down here before all the good spots were taken but how was I supposed to know it was going to be like this?!

I twitched a little as I watched a small group of friends spread out on top of a large red-and-white checked cloth nearby.

It really had been too long since I’d dropped out of school. Even though I’d just finished a case involving a college professor, I’d completely forgotten that this week was a break week in between semesters for a lot of local schools. It felt like everywhere I looked, I saw students around my age.

And to make matters worse—!

A drop of sweat slid down my temple as I heard flirtatious giggling coming from behind one of the trees.

There were couples everywhere!!

I was trying to create a peaceful, relaxing environment, so that Kunikida and I could really take our time and enjoy the scenery (I’d even blocked out extra time for lunch!). How was I supposed to do that when there were people everywhere?

Seriously, I heard this was a good date spot but wasn’t the number of couples just a little obnoxious, considering it was a weekday?!

Ignoring the giggling couples, I turned to Kunikida and pointed over to a spot several meters away.

“It seems a little busy here,” I mumbled nervously, as the giggling got even louder. “W-why don’t we try the next lawn over, Kunikida-san?”

Kunikida nodded—stiffly—and I prayed that my aimless wandering would end in some kind of miracle. Thankfully, a spot opened up nearby and I rushed over to claim it before someone else could.

“Kunikida-san!” I cried, zipping open my bag and setting out the blanket as fast as I could. “Over here, hurry!”

And as my tall companion carefully made his way through the crowd, side-stepping people and blankets alike, I tore open the bag and reached inside... only to find myself staring directly at the pair of stacked bento boxes I’d spent all morning preparing under Kyouka’s careful guidance.

Suddenly, the full weight of what I was about to do hit me with the force of a speeding truck and I found myself frozen in place, unable to touch them as Kunikida finally arrived at the blanket.

“Nice work, Kusunoki,” Kunikida said.

He nodded approvingly at our surroundings and settled in across from me.

“This is indeed a good spot for a picnic.”

Leaning back a little so that he could make himself more comfortable, Kunikida carefully slipped off his shoes and stretched his long legs out on the blanket. I watched, my pulse fluttering in my chest, as the handsome detective slowly raised a hand to his eyes, shielding them from the glare of the bright, midday sun. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the long, elegant lines of his neck, the angle of his jaw, the way his lips twitched upwards into the beginnings of a small, peaceful smile as he looked straight up at the canopy of trees above us.

I couldn’t breathe.

He’s beautiful...

And then, just when I was thinking there was no way the sight before me could be any more perfect, Kunikida turned that delicate smile towards me.

My heart skipped two beats instead of just one.

“Thanks for doing this,” Kunikida said.

His voice was warm, his gray-green eyes tender. Patterns of dappled shadows and light flitted over his face and form like water. Kunikida’s smile grew soft.

“I don’t think I could’ve asked for something more ideal.”

Ah...

I blinked rapidly.

Hearing those words... Hearing those words from him—from Kunikida Doppo, from my ideal man.

You’re the one who’s “ideal,” Kunikida-san...!

Quickly looking away so he couldn’t see that I was seriously going to cry, I turned my attention back to the open bag at my side, back to the pair of bento boxes nestled safely inside.

Heart pounding, I steeled myself and reached in.

Calm down.

“H-hey, Kunikida-san...?” I ventured, chancing a look back at the tall, blonde detective.

You can do this.

Perking up at the sound of my voice, Kunikida sat up a little on the blanket, his gray-green eyes fully focusing on me. I felt my face grow hot.

You’re not confessing just yet, you’re just letting him know you made these for him. That’s all. That’s...

“Yes?” Kunikida asked quietly, his eyes still locked on mine.

... all.

“What is it, Kusunoki?”

I instantly lost my nerve.

“I—” I stammered. “I, uh—”

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell him.

Not right away, anyway...

Looking away from Kunikida’s probing gaze, I turned my body a little to the side, shifting the boxes in my hands so that he couldn’t see what was inside.

I needed to check the box again. To make sure it was still in good enough shape to hand over before I officially give it to him...

I can’t hand him something that looks any less perfect than he does, after all...

“C-could you give me a second?” I inquired, my voice every bit as shaky as my smile.

And before Kunikida could answer, I turned all the way around and opened the box.

Oh, thank goodness.

I let out a tiny sigh of relief. The unknown gods were still looking out for me. Even after every single thing that had happened this morning—including the chasing down of the shopping district thief—the contents of the lunch boxes remained in decently good shape.

The only thing that was just a little out of sorts was the series of tamagoyaki egg hearts sitting in the bottom left corner.

I stopped closing the lid at once, my smile suddenly frozen on my face.

Wait.

I flung the lid back open, my jaw falling open in shock.

Oh my God...

I’d actually done it.

Sweat poured down the back of my neck.

I couldn’t remember when I’d done it or why, but at some point in time this morning, I’d changed my mind and cut the sliced egg omelettes in Kunikida’s bento box, changing them from circles into hearts.

And there wasn’t just one—there were three.

I couldn’t let him see these.

Panicking, I grabbed the set of chopsticks I’d taped to the side and reached into the box, intent on flipping them back around as fast as I could.

Kunikida was a detective and he was smart. If I gave him a homemade lunchbox with heart-shaped egg omelettes inside, he’d see them and immediately figure out that I have a crush on him. In short, I’d be confessing my love for him now, instead of at the end of the day—before I was ready! Before I got the chance to show him I could be his ideal woman!

If he sees this now, it’ll ruin everything!

“Kusunoki?!” Kunikida sputtered, his eyes going wide. “What are you doing?”

“Hang on, I gotta fix this,” I said in a rush.

I seized the first of the offensive omelettes with my chopsticks.

“I kinda messed this one up,” I lied, “so I need to fix it real quick—it’ll only take a second, I promise.”

But just as I was about to flip it over into the circle shape again, I heard a burst of raucous laughter coming from close by—very close by. I turned just in time to see a laughing toddler in a bright pink dress barreling towards me, her chubby little arms extended as if she were pretending to be an airplane. But before I had a chance to react, she ran right into me. I felt the box slipping out of my hand...

Kunikida scrambled to his feet.

“Kusunoki—!”

But it was too late.

I could only watch as the contents of the red plastic bento box flew through the air, the lid separating from the rest of it as it slowly sailed away from me.

All that hard work...

The box hit the grass with a sharp clatter. Food scattered everywhere.

Gone.

As the toddler waddled a little away from me, I turned to my bag, where I could just see the second box sitting safely at the very bottom next to my notebook.

I reached for it.

But before I could grab onto it, the toddler lost her balance entirely and sat down on my bag. I heard a sharp crack.

My chopsticks fell to the ground.

Everything was gone...

Suddenly feeling oddly numb, I found myself staring at the remains of the ruined lunch, unable to move or lift a finger as a man in his mid-thirties quickly rushed over, calling for his daughter at the top of his lungs. Scooping the laughing child up into his arms as fast as he could, he rebuked her sharply before turning to me and Kunikida, his face the absolute picture of mortification.

“I am so, so sorry!” he exclaimed, his tone frantic as he looked from me to Kunikida and back. “I really should’ve kept a better eye on her. Are you two alright?!”

And then, he spotted the broken lunchboxes.

His blue eyes widened in horror.

“Oh no!”

He clapped a hand over his mouth.

“I am so sorry,” he sputtered, the color draining from his face, “This is all my fault, I—”

“It’s alright,” I said quickly, getting to my feet before Kunikida could jump in. “She’s just a kid, she really didn’t know any better...”

I tried to smile.

“It was just an accident, right?”

“Y-yeah, but...”

He trailed off, his eyes firmly focused on the broken boxes behind me.

And against my better judgment, I slowly turned over my shoulder to look.

My heart sank.

It was worse than I thought. Rice blanketed the grass. Side dishes, sauce and brightly colored wrappers lay in clumps all over the once-pristine cloth I’d prepared just for today. The tamagoyaki heart I was so afraid of showing Kunikida lay separated in two pieces in the dirt.

I felt my smile falter as I turned back around.

“Don’t worry about it,” I mumbled, trying to keep my voice even.

I looked away.

“...It was just food.”

<hr> ***

“Here you go, Kusunoki,” Kunikida murmured, gently pressing the folded crepe into my hands.

He sat down heavily beside me on the bench as I stared down at it, the brightly colored paper wrapping warm against my skin.

“Sorry about earlier,” he mumbled, sounding like he really meant it. “I wish there was more I could do, but—”

“It’s okay, Kunikida-san,” I replied, still staring at my crepe.

I turned my face just enough that he could see my smile.

“You’ve done plenty.”

And he had. As I quietly began cleaning up the ruined remains of the boxed lunch, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Kunikida had gotten up. I tried not to listen as he carefully took the father aside, speaking in hushed, private tones as I continued to clean behind him but I couldn’t block out the general tone.

Kunikida sounded disappointed, not mad, and something about that only made me feel worse when he came back to help me clean up.

Logically, I knew that it made no sense for Kunikida to be angry with me, but logical thinking did nothing to quell the feelings of guilt and regret slowly welling up deep inside my chest as I took the first of the broken lunch boxes and deposited it in the trash.

If only I hadn’t tried to “fix” what didn’t need to be fixed...

Then, maybe Kunikida and I would still be sitting there on the shady lawn, enjoying the lunch Kyouka and Atsushi had worked so hard to help me make. We could be having the good time I’d planned for instead of sitting here on a cold, warped bench by the pier.

I kept staring at the crepe in my hands—the crepe Kunikida had bought with his own money.

And I was supposed to be taking care of you today, Kunikida-san...

“Kusunoki?”

I glanced back up at Kunikida, his handsome features looking taut with concern.

My chest hurt.

“Are you... not hungry?” he asked quietly, his gray-green eyes darting momentarily to my untouched crepe.

He frowned.

“We could always get something else if you don’t like crepes—”

“No, that’s not it!” I exclaimed, instantly jerking upright.

I can’t let Kunikida feel bad when he’s the one who ended up taking care of me...

“I do like crepes,” I insisted, bringing the treat up to my face. “I really do!”

And before he could say anything else, I rushed to take a bite of the hot crepe.

Kunikida’s eyes widened.

“Ah, Kusunoki—wait!”

“Ow...!”

Wincing slightly, I brought my free hand up towards my open mouth, covering it up so that the bite of crepe that had just burned my tongue wouldn’t fall right back out. Breathing in and out as quickly as I could to cool it off, I swallowed and turned to shoot Kunikida a smile, hoping against hope that I didn’t look too stupid when I did.

“S-see?” I gasped, a tiny tear beading at the corner of my eye. “It’s good...”

“Kusunoki...”

Kunikida’s voice was hushed.

His eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Are you...?”

“I’m fine, Kunikida-san,” I mumbled, taking another (smaller) bite of my crepe, making sure to cool it off before I ate this time. “Thank you for buying me lunch. I appreciate it.”

But Kunikida still looked doubtful. I saw the way his jaw tightened as his gray-green eyes slowly scanned my face and for a moment, I thought he would open his mouth to say something. But then, he sighed and settled back on the bench, taking a tiny bite of his own crepe as his back hit the wood.

“Alright, then,” he mumbled, looking away from me as he chewed.

My heart sank.

What if...?

I took another bite of crepe, chewing pensively as I studied the man next to me.

What if I’d confessed back there at the Marine Tower?

If I told him right then and there that I liked him, would I have been able to hand him the heart-shaped omelettes just now? Would things have been better if I’d told him?

Or...

I felt the bite of crepe lodging in my throat like a stone as I stared longingly at my handsome mentor and coworker.

No.

I swallowed thickly and turned away.

Bad idea.

If I told Kunikida I liked him before the end of the day—before I’d gotten a chance to prove to him that I could become his ideal woman, I would’ve gotten rejected for sure. And then things would be even more awkward than they were already.

I took another bite of my crepe and stared out at the ocean ahead, at the passersby walking along the pier and having a good time.

Yeah. It’s not time yet.

I chewed quietly as one of the passersby, a pretty woman in a full business suit and long, shiny dark hair, broke away from her group and approached our bench.

I should tell him only when I’ve finished everything on today’s schedule and not a moment before...

“Um, excuse me?”

The pretty woman tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear, smiled brightly and bobbed her head in a tiny, yet polite bow.

“Good afternoon,” she said, her smile growing more amiable the moment she saw Kunikida looking up at her. “I apologize for interrupting you while you’re taking a break, but I was wondering...”

She tucked her hand into her purse and pulled out a small, white card.

“Could I have just a quick moment of your time?” she asked, presenting the card to Kunikida.

“My name is Okada Kimi,” she said, her tone growing more professional as she spoke. “I’m a talent scout for a small agency in the city and, if you don’t mind my saying so...”

She quickly turned and shot an apologetic look to the other people in suits behind her before continuing, her cheeks slightly pink.

“I just couldn’t pass you by without at least offering you my card. Tell me, have you ever considered a career in modeling?”

“Oh...!”

At once, Kunikida flushed.

“I—uh,” he stammered, his gray-green eyes darting about as he fought to collect himself.

He looked pretty embarrassed and definitely taken aback, but also... flattered.

Very flattered.

The bite of crepe in my mouth lost its flavor.

“I can’t say I ever have...” Kunikida mumbled, staring at a spot just above the woman’s left shoulder. “I thought... uh...”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” the agent laughed, her bright green eyes sparkling as she brought her free hand up to cover her mouth.

“We get this kind of reaction all the time.”

“I... I see...” Kunikida mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck while I continued to sit in silence on the other side of the bench.

The woman’s manicure was absolutely flawless. So was her makeup. And her figure...

The bit of crepe in my mouth had long since grown soggy and I swallowed uneasily as I watched Kunikida and the agent chattering back and forth, noting just how perfect she looked in her stylish black blazer and pencil skirt, how beautifully her blunt-cut bangs framed her cheekbones and her face.

Were talent scouts normally this pretty? Or charming? Or tall?

The bite of crepe lodged in my throat like a rock.

Was it honestly just a coincidence that this random talent agent, this high-powered career woman... was exactly half a head shorter than Kunikida—the ideal height of his ideal woman...?

I looked away as Okada’s bright pink lips slowly curved upwards in a delicate, feminine smile and covered my own mouth with my free hand while I frantically rooted around in my pocket for a napkin. My lip gloss was probably badly smeared and I wanted to do something to clean myself up but when I found the napkin I’d been looking for at last, I realized with a start that Kunikida hadn’t looked at me once the entire time since the agent had appeared.

And neither, it seemed, had the agent taken notice of me.

I stopped wiping at my face at once, my shoulders dropping along with my gaze.

If even random women on the street matched the description of Kunikida’s Ideal Woman better than I do...

Crestfallen, I glanced at Kunikida, the rest of my appetite disappearing entirely as I watched my tall, handsome mentor take the card in Okada’s hand and put it in his pocket.

...then what hope did I have?

I ate the rest of my crepe in silence as Okada beamed at him.

“I’m honestly surprised you’ve never actually thought of it before,” she chuckled, as Kunikida flushed an even deeper shade of pink before her. “You look really tall. And if we’re talking about having the kind of determination it takes to succeed in a career such as this, well...”

She grinned.

“I know we’ve only just met but you really do seem like you have what it takes.”

“Th-that’s very flattering, Okada-san,” Kunikida mumbled, his ears and cheeks still glowing a bright, vivid scarlet. “And I appreciate the compliment. Really, I do, but...”

He coughed a little, shifting in his seat in such a way that I could tell he was now looking directly at me.

But I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze.

Kunikida sighed.

“Unfortunately,” he said firmly, “I already have a job that I’m fully dedicated to. And it’s not a position I can see myself leaving any time soon.”

He bowed his head slightly in apology and straightened back up.

“I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me,” he said, “but a career in modeling just doesn’t fit into my life plans. Furthermore...”

His tone softened.

“I’m... actually a little busy right now. So if you don’t mind...”

“Oh, yes of course!” Okada gasped, her hand flying to her cheek in embarrassment as she spotted me at last.

“I’m so sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to interrupt you on your date—!”

“Date?!” Kunikida exclaimed, instantly going beet-red as I snapped to attention beside him, my heart suddenly light.

She thought we were out on a date? That Kunikida and I were actually a couple...?

But then...

“Th-this isn’t a date,” Kunikida sputtered, his hands hands frantically flying about, all traces of the composed professional from earlier disappearing entirely. “This is just—we’re just colleagues! I mean—!”

Suddenly seizing up, Kunikida slowly turned to me, his movements rigid and robotic. He looked oddly stricken.

I bit my lip and looked away.

Kunikida coughed.

“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled quietly, sounding strangely sheepish as he shrank in a little on himself.

“D-don’t worry about it.”

Looking thoroughly ashamed of herself and more than a little apologetic, Okada tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bowed low.

“Once again, I thoroughly apologize for my rudeness,” she mumbled quietly, slowly rising up only when she could tell that I’d heard her. “Please excuse me.”

And with that, she straightened all the way back up, readjusted her purse a little, and walked away, rejoining her companions who had been waiting patiently for her at the edge of the pier.

As she and the rest of her group finally slowly down the walkway, Kunikida turned to me at last, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“That was awkward, wasn’t it?” he asked weakly, his face and neck just red enough that he looked a little sunburned.

He gestured stiffly at the empty crepe wrapper in my hand.

“S-so, did you get enough to eat?” he inquired, his grin looking just a little tense. “We can go get something else if you’re still hungry—”

“Actually, Kunikida-san...”

The bench creaked softly as I got up.

“I’m not really hungry any more,” I mumbled, walking away and heading for the nearest trash can.

I felt the crepe wrapper crumpling in my hand.

I already knew.

“But thank you for offering.”

I already knew that someone like me could never be worthy of a man like Kunikida Doppo.

But even though I had known this for some time already...

Raising my hand over the green metal trash can, I let the brightly colored paper wrapper drop into its darkened depths.

It still didn’t hurt any less to be reminded of it by someone else.

I sighed.

What was I thinking? That if I just did the research and made the right plans, that it would all just fall into place?

“Idiot,” I mumbled, my voice bitter.

How had I ever fooled myself into believing I could become Kunikida’s ideal woman in just one short day? That list of requirements was fifty-eight items long. Sure, I’d taken my time and looked into each and every trait, but there were so many that I wouldn’t ever be able to manage, not without a significant amount of work or change in lifestyle, anyway.

Furthermore...

I pensively chewed my lip, still staring down into the trash can as if I meant to throw myself into it (and why shouldn’t I? It’s where where rubbish like me belonged anyway).

That agent, that Okada Kimi... She fit far more of the physical attributes Kunikida was looking for in a girlfriend than I did—than I ever could—and I didn’t even have to reference Kunikida’s notebook to know that. Even an idiot like me could see just how much better she looked next to him than I did. In fact, she wouldn’t even have noticed me if Kunikida hadn’t said something, that’s how little he and I looked like we belonged together...

And Kunikida had been so determined to insist we weren’t dating, too...

I breathed another heavy sigh and brought my hand to my face.

What was I supposed to do now? We still had half the day to go and I was still nowhere near close to showing Kunikida that I could become the ideal woman he was looking for. Not only had I messed up everything that I’d planned for so far, I wasn’t even able keep to a simple schedule—a schedule I had created myself.

How was I going to get him to see me as a potential girlfriend now??

Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I turned around and prepared to face the rest of my day. And as I did so, I felt my fingers brushing against something thin and papery: the miniature notebook I’d bought just for today.

Could I still fix this?

I turned around to look at Kunikida, the gears slowly turning in my head as he slowly rose from the bench and walked towards me.

If I kept to the schedule as best I could for the rest of the day, would that be enough for Kunikida to start seeing me in a different light? Would it really be enough for him to change his opinion of me before I worked up the nerve to finally confess?

“Ready to go?” Kunikida asked, joining me by the trash can and throwing his wrapper away as well.

I nodded, my pulse hammering in my throat and my fingers closing around the notebook in my hand.

I could.

I felt my grip tightening around the pages.

I could still fix everything.

I just had to believe in myself and follow the plan...

“I’m ready,” I chirped, spinning around to face him with a bright smile. “How about you?”

Kunikida nodded, a gentle, relieved expression slowly making its way across his face as well.

“I am,” he said, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he met my gaze. “Where to next?”

“Let’s see,” I mumbled, taking out my notebook and flipping to the right page as Kunikida looked on beside me.

I might not be your ideal woman yet...

“Chinatown,” I told him, tucking the schedule firmly back into my pocket. “There’s a tea shop I wanted to take you to.”

But I could be...

Kunikida smiled.

“Lead the way.”

And as the tall, blonde detective quietly followed me out of the park and out towards the main street, I clutched the schedule tightly in my hands and marched ahead.

I just have to try a little harder.

<hr> ***

“Canceled?”

I stared incredulously at the girl behind the counter.

“What do you mean it’s ‘canceled?’”

“I’m terribly sorry, Miss,” the girl repeated, looking as though she truly meant it. “But unfortunately, the master had to call out sick this morning and without anyone else available to take over the tea tastings...”

I sagged a little on my feet as she continued speaking, seemingly oblivious to my plight.

“...we’ve had to cancel all of today’s appointments,” she finished, bowing apologetically. “Again, we are terribly sorry for the inconvenience. B-but if it’s any consolation...”

Straightening back up, she gestured to the fully stocked shelves all around us with a smile.

“The shop will still be open for the rest of the day, so if you wanted to purchase anything, we’d be happy to give you a small discount. Or—”

She pulled up a keyboard from under the counter.

“If you’d like to reschedule your tea tasting, we could definitely put you down for sometime...”

She paused to glance at her computer screen.

“Next month?”

“Next month?!” I cried.

Clapping my hands over my mouth to stifle the noise, I shot a discreet look over my shoulder at Kunikida, who was quietly browsing a collection of teapots on display at the far end of the room. To my relief, he seemed too caught up in what he was doing to have noticed my little outburst and I slowly turned back to the counter with a tiny, strained smile.

“L-let me think about it...” I mumbled, stepping away from the counter and leaving the shop girl to take care of her other customers.

Next month?

I slapped a hand over my face and groaned, wondering how I was going to break the news to Kunikida.

There was no way I could book a visit for the two of us for next month. After the way everything had gone today, I’d be lucky if Kunikida wanted to even stick around for the rest of the afternoon, much less spend more time with me in a month.

I fiddled with the strap of my bag, my nerves starting to get the better of me as I slowly approached my mentor.

So much for sticking to the schedule as closely as possible. Now that the tea tasting was canceled, what else were we going to do for the next hour and a half? Spend a little more time just wandering around Chinatown like a couple of tourists? Or would it be better to move on to the next location a little earlier than planned...?

I stopped walking and paused in the middle of the shop, watching quietly as the tall, blonde detective moved on from the teapots to the jars of oolong tea sitting nearby.

No. That wouldn’t do.

I squeezed the strap of my bag.

If I wanted to become Kunikida’s ideal woman—someone as organized and capable as he was—then I needed to come up with a backup plan—and fast.

But what?

I tightened my grip on my bag as Kunikida noticed me standing there at last. He slowly turned towards me.

What could I possibly plan for that could make Kunikida happy, get him to see that I could become the ideal woman he’s always dreamed of...

I gritted my teeth.

And prevent him from rejecting me when I confessed my feelings to him at the end of the day?

I chewed my lip, thinking as quickly as I could as Kunikida straightened up a little and tucked his hands into his pockets.

If only there was someone I could ask.

He strode forward.

Someone who knew Kunikida inside and out. Someone who would be willing to help me figure out what to do...

And as Kunikida slowly came to a stop before me, a familiar teasing voice suddenly rang out from somewhere deep within my memories.

“You can tell me the truth, you know.”

Dazai grinned, his chocolate-brown eyes shining bright.

“If you’re interested in Kunikiiiida-kun... I could help you get his attention.”

The memory faded, steadily blending into another, more recent one...

“And if you like, I can even help you win him over!”

Dazai’s tone was low, conspiratorial.

In the silence, his voice seemed echo throughout the empty conference room.

“I can tell you for a fact that there’s no one in the Agency who knows him as well as I do.”

He extended one half-bandaged hand towards me.

“What do you think...?”

His grin widened.

“Kyou-chan...?”

“Ready to go?” Kunikida asked, stopping before me.

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I glanced at the tiny clay teapot in his hand and then up at his handsome face.

Was I really willing to go that far...?

Kunikida studied me. His eyebrows knitted together, as if in concern.

“Kusunoki-kun?”

In an instant, I made up my mind.

I took a deep breath in.

“Not quite...”

I would do anything for you, Kunikida-san...

I felt a tiny smile slowly spread across my face.

Anything.

“Why don’t you keep browsing without me?” I told him. “I gotta...”

I squirmed a little, trying to force the embarrassing words out of my mouth.

“I gotta go look for the bathroom.”

“O-oh.”

Looking awkward, Kunikida adjusted his glasses.

“Right, then,” he said.

He gestured with the teapot in his hand.

“I’m gonna just take this to the register. Shall I wait for you outside?”

I nodded.

“Please.”

And as Kunikida went to the front desk, I peeled off in the opposite direction, heading for the back of the shop where the door to the women’s room was open just a crack.

I had to hurry up and do this before I changed my mind...

Pulling out my cell phone, I ducked into the tiny room and locked the door, the list of ���calls received” already glowing bright on my screen.

“I’m really sorry about this, Kunikida-san,” I mumbled, scrolling through the list until I found the one I was looking for.

“But desperate times call for desperate measures...”

I brought the phone up to my face and stared at the number on the screen—the only number I refused to save to my contacts.

Swallowing the last of what little pride I had left, I lifted one shaking finger to the keyboard and pressed “call.”

“Come on, pick up,” I whispered, letting my back rest against the door. “Please pick up...”

I bit my lip.

“Dazai-san...”

[courtingstars]

Notes for The Vanishing Prince: Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight has been posted! I don’t have nearly as many notes this time. (Which is good, because it took me a lot less time to draft this post. XD;) Still, I did want to bring up a couple of things that I thought might be worth mentioning.

And as always, I updated the inspiration board for this fic over on Pinterest, so feel free to check out the new images if you feel like it/have access to Pinterest. (The most recently added images are at the top, so when you scroll down, you’re basically going backwards through the story.) And with that, onto the notes...

(Cut for the ramblings of a writer who overthinks everything, and also some very important notes about omurice, because I LOVED writing that part…)

Akashi and His Mom, Plus Heian Poetry

This is basically just a note to say that I really loved being able to write the scene with Akashi and his mom. <3 I think it’s the first scene of them together that I’ve posted online…? (Though I’ve written lots of scenes where Akashi talks about his mother, or has a very brief memory of her.) I wrote something short about them for Mother’s Day years ago, but I never finished it, sadly. So it felt nice to finally be able to include a glimpse of how I see their interactions.

Also, the part about Japanese poetry is indeed a thing! A lot of the Heian-era poetry in Japan revolves around themes of courtly love, and because of how courting worked in that time period, they often feature various forms of pining-for-your-lover-from-a-distance. So like Akashi says, there was a folk belief that if you were missing your lover enough, you would appear in each other’s dreams, so that you could at least be together in the dream world. Like this site about the poet Ono-no-Komachi explains, “the intensity of one's feelings for one's lover could induce him to appear in one's dream or could cause one to appear in his dreams.” I always thought that was a fascinating concept. (Also the idea that Akashi would be studying those poems at six years old is just really funny to me? But anyway. //laughs)

Akashi’s Issues, Poor Guy

I don’t want to go into too much detail here, but I thought it might be worth mentioning… One of the things I really wanted to explore in this fic (and the series as a whole) is the reality that working on mental health problems can be a very difficult and often nonlinear process. While it’s not the only plot line of the story—and I definitely don’t claim to have done a great job with it by any means, though I try my best!—I felt like it was important to take the time to show how a person’s struggles with mental illness don’t just get solved overnight. Akashi has been fighting a lot of the same problems throughout the series, because these kinds of emotional hang-ups and coping mechanisms aren’t easy to change.

To be honest, it felt somewhat counterintuitive to me as a writer, because back when I was trying to publish original stories, there was this idea that you weren’t supposed to write characters “brooding” for too long or repeat the same issues/mistakes over and over. Basically, the characters needed to show growth quickly, and passages that could be seen as repetitive should probably be cut, because they weren’t “progressing the story.” While I can understand that idea in a writing sense, I tend to feel like it’s not a very fair representation of what it’s like to struggle with mental health. (Which also applies to a lot of other kinds of personal issues/growth as well, honestly. Change is just hard in general.)

So I’m definitely trying to walk a balance between not writing the same scenes over and over, while also showing Akashi’s struggles as an ongoing journey for him. The latter was really important to me, both as a writer, and as someone who’s had cycles and setbacks with my own mental health stuff.

Bokushi Is Still Kind of an Asshole, Lol

On kind of a similar note… I have no idea how Bokushi comes across as a character at this point in the story? //laughs But if anyone finds him to be kind of a jerk, I will say that’s an intentional choice, at least. Ideally, I wanted him to be likable but still flawed, and I do find him hilarious personally, but… Hopefully it’s obvious that I don’t think he’s a perfect person, by any means. XD;

I think I’ve said before that I really want to use this storyline as a chance to explore my view of his character—and the why/how of how his personality differs from Oreshi—in as much detail as possible. Hopefully it ends up coming across as nuanced in the long run… But if nothing else, I hope it’s at least fairly interesting to read! Because I do find him extremely interesting as a character.

Omurice!

So here’s my major cultural note for the chapter… I’m guessing a lot of people are already aware of the fact that Furihata’s favorite food in canon is omurice, since it tends to pop up in AkaFuri fics a lot. For anyone who’s not familiar with the dish, omurice (a borrowed compound word for “rice omelet”) is a Western-inspired Japanese dish that’s extremely popular as a comfort food. (This type of Western-inspired cuisine is generally called yoshoku. Which I think I also mentioned in Storming the Castle, but… it’s been awhile? //laughs)

So basically, omurice consists of pan-fried rice that’s usually seasoned with either ketchup (often considered the more homey/classic version) or demi-glace sauce (more often seen in restaurants). Like in a lot of fried rice recipes, vegetables and meat are added to the rice, and then the whole thing is served beneath a super-fluffy egg omelet. It typically looks like this, or this. I’ve made it before, and enjoyed it way more than I expected. So while I was writing this chapter, I couldn’t resist preparing one of my own (for research purposes of course, lol):

I’m not a good cook, to put it mildly, but I was proud that this one came out a little better than the last time I tried it. XD

To me, the coolest thing about watching someone prepare omurice is the part where they plate the omelet... This can be done a few different ways, and some take more skill than others. (I totally cheat, by making a single-layer omelet and just setting it on top of the rice as best I can. XD) The most difficult way (and the way Furihata does it in the fic!) is to layer the omelet on top of itself while you’re cooking it, so that it becomes a kind of pouch that you can slice open over the rice. There’s a great animation of this process over on my Pinterest board, and I also really recommend two videos on Youtube if you’d like to see more… This clip features an amazing chef from the most famous omurice restaurant in Kyoto, and this one is an iconic scene from Tampopo, a classic Japanese film. To learn more about the context of those clips, and about omurice in general, I also recommend this really fun article about it.

The thing I find the most interesting about omurice is that it’s such a popular comfort food, so it’s often associated with home and family life. That’s why in The Fast Train to Kyoto, I was inspired to have Furihata’s mom make him omurice when he’s having a bad day. At the same time, though, the dish can also have a bit of a “lovey dovey” connotation to it? Like how in this survey it was one of the top foods that Japanese guys said they would like their girlfriends to make for them. (Hence the trope of decorating the omelet with a ketchup heart, as Bokushi mentions, in his extremely Bokushi way. //laughs)

For all these reasons, I tend to think of omurice as the perfect favorite food for a character like Furihata. It definitely inspired how I write about him, especially when it comes to things like his family life as well as his romantic side. <3

So How About All Those Storming the Castle References Huh

This is just a quick note to say that if anyone happened to be confused by some of the references in this chapter, a lot of them were referring back to events from Part Two of Storming the Castle. (Like the first time Furihata saw Akashi’s dad, the huge portrait of Akashi and his parents in the ballroom, the butsudan altar, the secret passage with the stairs, the ghost, etc, etc… Also the character of Ginhara, since he’s the butler who runs the mansion in Tokyo.)

I tend to be pretty indecisive about exactly how much detail I should use to explain something that happened earlier in the series… Since I know some people might not have read the earlier fics, and at the same time, I don’t want to be too repetitive for those who have? In any case, if anything was confusing/unclear, it was probably a callback to that story. (Oh, and there was also a callback to The Fast Train to Kyoto, about when Akashi and Furihata talked about becoming friends!)

Well, that’s it from me this time around. Thank you so much for reading, as always. As I mentioned in more detail over on Ao3, I really hope everyone is staying safe where possible, and supporting each other in this difficult time. I will do my best to get the next chapter posted very soon. <3

[enneagramwingmiranda]

Parks and Recreation: The actual enneagram types of Leslie, Ron, Tom, April, Andy, Donna, Ben, Chris, and Jerry

The Protagonist: Leslie Knope [Type 3]

“I am big enough to admit that I am often inspired by myself.”

Enneagram Wing: 3w2 (Achiever along with a helper)

"I care. I care a lot. It's kinda my thing."

Core Fear: Being exposed as or thought incompetent, inefficient, or worthless; failing to be or appear successful

Core Desire: Having high status and respect, being admired, successful, and valuable

Leslie feels her purpose is to make the world a better place, specifically Pawnee, since this is the place she holds dear to her heart and is the most reachable for her. Her identity is defined by her work and her drive and passion are what allow her to continue to move up the latter. She takes rejection and set backs hard, however, she always gets back up and continues to move forward to reach her goals. Her influence shapes the hearts and minds of her coworkers. She inspires them to be better people and to find what they are meant to do in life and do it. Along with her go-getter attitude, she goes above and beyond for her friends (2) and they greatly appreciate her care and efforts. As for her childhood wound, she has described her mother as cold and withholding so we can only assume that she received praise and attention only from the achievements she made. Her mother also works in government and only respects those with an assertive and dominant presence. 

The Sensible Friend: Ann Perkins [Type 6]

“As Leslie’s maid of honor, I really need her bachelorette party to go well, which is why I’m stress eating gummy penises.”

Enneagram wing: 6w7 (Loyalist along with an enthusiast)

“I’m putting myself out there, meeting some new people, having some causal fun, and it’s awkward.”

Core Fear: Fearing fear itself, being without support, security, or guidance; being blamed, targeted, alone, or physically abandoned

Core Desire: Having security, guidance, and support

Ann is by far the most sensible character. She is the person everyone knows they can rely on. Andy unfortunately took advantage of this quality resulting in her becoming his caretaker rather than remaining an equal. Leslie appreciates her sensibility and this is what makes them such great friends. However, Leslie can trigger Ann’s already existing anxiety from her high expectations and good intentioned pushy behavior. Another side of the coin of is her fear of ending up alone. She is constantly dating and even settles a few times to avoid loneliness. It is when she takes the time to be single and soothes this fear that she and Chris end up together. Ann also has an adventurous streak. She likes to go out and have a good time. She just sometimes needs a little push from Chris, Leslie, or Donna.

The True Introvert: Ron Swanson [Type 5]

“That is a canvas sheet, the most versatile object known to man. It can be used to make tents, backpacks, shoes, stretchers, sails, tarpaulins, and I suppose, in the most dire of circumstances, it can be a surface on which to make art.”

Enneagram wing: 5w4|5w6 (Balanced)

“Don’t start chasing applause and acclaim. That way lies madness.”

Core Fear: Being annihilated, invaded, or not existing; being thought incapable or ignorant; having obligations placed upon you or your energy being completely depleted   

Core Desire: Being capable and competent 

Ron is an intellect, constantly going off on philosophical tangents about the corrupt ways of government, effective life hacks, and flawed human nature. He believes there is only one way to do things and his ways of going about things are very unique to himself (4). He is a non-conformist. He loves learning new things and adding to his craft. He is a breakfast and wood enthusiast. Ron is quite guarded and withdrawn from the world and prefers this. His childhood wound is that his mother was intrusive and over-controlling so we can assume he felt exposed and defenseless. This followed Ron in adulthood as he had many toxic relationships with women similar to her. Thus, Ron feels he is best served to live in isolation and fend for himself, as well as, rely on cerebral means rather than emotional means. Ron demonstrates his wing 6 with his desire to be safe and have security.

The Entrepreneur: Tom Haverford [Type 3]

“At the risk bragging, one of the things I’m best at is riding coattails. Behind every successful man is me, smiling and taking partial credit. 

Enneagram wing: 3w4 (Achiever along with an individualist)

“‘Zerts’ are what I call desserts. ‘Trée-trées’ are entrées. I call sandwiches ‘sammies,’ ‘sandoozles,’ or ‘Adam Sandlers.’ Air conditioners are ‘cool blasterz’ with a ‘z’ — I don’t know where that came from. I call cakes ‘big ol’ cookies.’ I call noodles ‘long-ass rice.’ Fried chicken is ‘fry-fry chicky-chick.’ Chicken parm is ‘chicky-chicky-parm-parm.’ Chicken cacciatore? ‘Chicky-cacc.’ I call eggs ‘pre-birds,’ or ‘future birds.’ Root beer is ‘super water.’ Tortillas are ‘bean blankets.’ And I call forks ‘food rakes.’”

Core Fear: Being exposed as or thought incompetent, inefficient, or worthless; failing to be or appear successful

Core Desire: Having high status and respect, being admired, successful, and valuable

Tom measures his entire worth from his successes and failures. He is extremely creative and is constantly coming up with unique ideas to form a successful business. 

The Misanthrope: April Ludgate [Type 4]

“I wasn’t listening but I strongly disagree.”

Enneagram wing: 4w5 (Individualist along with investigator)

“If you ever speak me to me in Spanish please use the formal “usted”.

Core Fear: Being inadequate, emotionally cut off, plain, mundane, defective, flawed, or insignificant

Core Desire: Being unique, special, and authentic

April portrays major apathy but it’s clearly done to hide her genuine care and insecurity. She wants to be unique and special, thus overdoing it with her quirky, odd, eccentric, nonconformist talk and lifestyle. Her speech and way of behaving is an oxymoron. She deep down wants what everyone else wants: real love, real friendship, and a successful career. As she grows up and matures, she moves further away from her exaggerated dark persona to a normal expressive, mature adult. However, she adds in whatever she needs to to maintain her individuality. April also values cerebral pursuits shown in her getting accepted to an exceptional veterinary school. Her wing 5 is what helps her identify with so much with Ron.

The Charming Goofball: Andy Dwyer [Type 9]

“It’s fine. It’s just that life is pointless and nothing matters and I’m always tired.”

Enneagram wing: 9w8 (Peacemaker along with the challenger)

“I’m not crying. I’m just allergic to jerks!”

Core Fear: Being in conflict, tension, or discord; feeling shut out and overlooked; losing connection and relationship with others 

Core Desire: Having inner stability and peace of mind

The epitome of Andy’s character is his easy-going nature. He is also very caring and thoughtful. He rarely ever voices if anything is bothering him and we see him go through great lengths to end any conflict between he and April. He attempts to make things right with Ann after their break up but doesn’t succeed. Andy possess a child-like mindset and view of the world and this is what seems to serve as a coping skill for the trials and tribulations of life. This also makes him endearing and what makes him perfect for April as she holds a similar mentality. 

The Nerd: Ben Wyatt [Type 1]

“I don’t even have time to tell you how wrong you are. Actually, it’s going to bug me if I don’t.”

Enneagram wing: 1w9 (Reformer along with peacemaker)

“Stick to the list and you’ll do great. I have total faith in you... (there’s like a 30% chance they’ll both die.)”

Core Fear: Being wrong, bad, evil, inappropriate, unredeemable, or corruptible

Core Desire: Having integrity, being good, balanced, accurate, virtuous, and right 

Ben is straightforward and willing to tell the truth, even if it could offend someone. He likes things to be in order. He often feels like the odd one out in the parks department because he values principles and professionalism while his colleagues behave inappropriately. He admires Leslie for her quirky professionalism. Ben also desires a peaceful environment and will keep quiet about things bothering him resulting in passive aggressive behavior.

The Optimist: Chris Traeger [Type 7]

“The world is my gymnasium, Ron.”

Enneagram wing: 7w6 (Enthusiast along with loyalist)

“I am 100% certain that I am 0% sure of what I’m going to do.”

Core Fear: Being deprived, trapped in emotional pain, limited, or bored; missing out on something fun

Core Desire: Being happy, fully satisfied, and content

Chris is extremely positive all the time to cover up his true inner turmoil. He had a tough childhood and coped with the trauma by avoiding the negative emotions and putting his focus on his health. Thus he became a health nut. In the field of clinical psychology, he would most likely be diagnosed with orthorexia. Chris has a lot of anxiety about life and desires to feel a sense of safety in his life and relationships, thus making him fall into the wing 6. He desires the guidance and support from others (he started seeing a counselor 5 times a week during his depressive episode). 

The Minx: Donna Meagle [Type 8]

“You better watch yourself.”

Enneagram wing: 8w7 (Challenger along with enthusiast)

“Treat yourself.”

Core Fear: Being weak, powerless, harmed, controlled, vulnerable, manipulated, and left at the mercy of injustice

Core Desire: Protecting yourself and those in your inner circle

Donna is the epitome of “an independent black woman who don’t need no man.” She essentially dos onto others what she fears they will do onto her.  Thus, she manipulates and abuses vulnerable men to get what she wants and then leaves them. We can assume that something happened in her childhood that resulted in this relationship pattern. She discusses her grandma dying while having a threesome so this behavior was certainly model for her. She falls on the 7 wing for her enjoyment of life's greatest pleasures. 

The Target: Jerry Gergich [Type 9]

“So I go by Terry now. They already had a Larry in the Parks department, and they suggested that they change my name to Terry. I told them my real name was Garry, and they said ‘who cares?’ What a fun bunch of guys.”

Enneagram wing: 9w1 (Peacemaker along with reformer)

“Well, you know it's like I always say 'it ain't government work if you don't have to do it twice.”

Core Fear: Being in conflict, tension, or discord; feeling shut out and overlooked; losing connection and relationship with others

Core Desire: Having inner stability and peace of mind 

Jerry is clearly a peacemaker in that he keeps his mouth shut despite his constant abuse from his colleagues at the parks department. He identifies with Andy in that Tom was trying to dub him as the new office target due to his similar easygoing nature and clumsiness. He shows that he is a wing 1 in his values of goodness and morality.

[foodbytesback]

I Try One of Everything at Salt City Market (Part 1)

I often rag on my hometown of Syracuse for not having a particularly creative restaurant scene.  A city with largely Italian and Irish populations has, surprisingly, yielded a lot of forgettable Italian family restaurants and Irish pubs that all kind of blur together.  Admittedly, I’m also a bit of a shut-in (especially with the pandemic), so I won’t claim to know all the ins-and-outs of some of the more “underground” restaurants.  So when I first heard about the Salt City Market, a collective of vendors selling foods from a wide variety of ethnicities, I was excited to hear about something new coming to that seeming-abandoned lot downtown.  They’ve had plenty of setbacks (most, obviously, pandemic-related), but now they’re finally open for our dining pleasure.      

This project has been almost a year in the making, so it’s no surprise that, on the day of the grand opening, people were so excited that everyone ended up running out of food.  Being the fool that I am, I assumed that going at 4:00 on the second day would be less busy.  We ended up waiting in line for about 10 minutes, as they were being very diligent about enforcing occupancy limits and getting people in and out as safely as possible.  Even though it was about 15°F out, I would say the overall experience was well worth the wait.  

I honestly was too busy trying to figure out what to get and also staying 6 feet away from everyone else that I didn’t pay much mind to the decor within the space. I didn’t even notice music was playing until one of my friends pointed out they were playing a song she liked (I know I’ve heard this song dozens of times, I could have sworn it was Animal Collective but after scouring their discography I guess it isn’t).  It had that kind of hip, start-up-y vibe that, when juxtaposed with the run-down apartment building across the street, would have raised questions about gentrification if it weren’t for the sheer number of POC chefs and entrepreneurs involved.  

So, without further ado, let’s talk about the food.  When I say I’m trying “one of everything,” I guess I actually mean “one thing from each vendor (or, rather, for this week, half of them),” which may be a little misleading, but let’s be real, I can’t afford one of everything.  (I briefly considered emailing them to see if I could get some sort of “Media Pass,” but I figured even if they did things like that it would require me to actually have readers lmao) Also, some places had also started to run out of things again, but I will do my best to review what they were able to give me without a sense of “ugh, this isn’t what I wanted.”  And obviously, since we got takeout and drove like 20 minutes to get the food back home, I’m not going to be judging the food in terms of things like “it was cold,” or “the breading got soggy from the condensing steam in the package.”

BIG IN BURMA- Samosas- $5

2 disclaimers- 1.) Of all the ethnicities represented at the market, I have the least knowledge and/or exposure to Burmese cuisine.  Judging by the menu and my basic understanding of geography, I’d say the simplest (and thus probably not super accurate) way to describe it is a cross between Indian and Thai food. 2.) I used to work with the dad of the owner, so I felt like trying Big In Burma first was a priority.  

While I initially wanted to try the Nan Gyi Thoke, they were out of noodles so I eventually settled on an order of samosas.  I say “settled,” but really, is there really anything better than a dumpling?

The dough was flaky and crisp, almost like phyllo dough.  The potato and onion filling was simple (and in my opinion could have used a little more of the curry spice blend they used), but tasty. The sauce that accompanied them isn’t described anywhere on their menu, but tastes a lot like Frank’s Red Hot but with a little more of a vinegary tang to it.  All in all, a great little snack that, despite being a fried dumpling, didn’t get too heavy, which was good because I had a lot more food to eat.

FIRECRACKER THAI KITCHEN- Spicy Basil Chicken- $13.50

My first thought upon tasting the chicken by itself was “Hey, that’s way too much fish sauce, I’m probably not gonna eat this whole thing.”  However, once you mix the chicken and the rice together, the flavors become much more well balanced, and I did end up eating the whole thing, thank you very much.  My biggest gripe, however, was that this “Spicy Basil” Chicken didn’t deliver very strongly on the “Spicy” or the “Basil,” two things I love in Thai food but found myself wanting more of.  The fried egg was good, though.  I’m always a sucker for a fried egg.

It might also be worth mentioning that one of my friends got the “Street Style Eggs Over Rice,” which, despite the menu description including other things, was just a fried egg over a pile of rice and a cup of sauce.

MISS PRISSY’S- Fried Chicken Wings- $12.50

(I hope I’m remembering that price right, the online version of their menu seems incomplete.)

Miss Prissy’s seems to be one of the busier stands, given they were probably the hardest hit of the ones I went to when it came to shortages.  They were out of the braised oxtail and pepper steak that were my first and second choices, so I “settled” on the wings.  Once again, that’s not a bad thing.  

The breading on the wings was just the right thickness, and was somehow still crispy after traveling.  They were also a very good size, too. The only negative thing I could say about the wings was that it seemed like they were seasoned after cooking, instead of seasoning the breading, which lead to some pieces being more well seasoned than others.  (I’m noticing a trend of me thinking everything was underseasoned… did I catch the ‘rona without noticing or something…) 

The mac & cheese may look like my mom’s sad, dry mac at first glance, but it is NOT.  It was much creamier and cheesier than it looks.  The green beans, however, were pretty much just as sad and probably-canned as they look.  I look forward to getting the collards some day, once they stop running out.

(Also, this is really neither here nor there, but the leftover samosa sauce goes really well with these wings.)

PIE’S THE LIMIT- Oat and Berry Slice- $3.50

While they do have an interesting selection of savory pies, I decided to get something more dessert-y to round out my night of hedonism- uhh I mean supporting local business.

The crust was surprisingly tender and flaky for a vegan dough (ie no butter/lard/etc).  The berry filling was a pretty much perfect blend of tart and sweet that you would want from a pie filling.  The oat topping clearly uses some kind of steel cut oat- or at least something other than the instant oats I’m accustomed to in streusel toppings like this- because it has a more toothsome chew to it, which I thought added a nice contrast in texture.        

All-in-all, everything was very good, with most of the shortcomings easily being excused as these businesses try to keep up with how busy they’ve been.   I’m much as it kills me to have to wait, I’m probably going to have to wait a week or two for part 2 for the crowds to die down a little.

[makayla-angelic]

2020 End Of The Year Natural Hair Report/New Regimen For 2021?

2020 has finally come to an end, and I couldn’t be more happier! I can’t predict what 2021 will be like, but I can only hope the outcomes and opportunities will be better than what it was for 2020. Even though this year has seemed like a “hell” year, there is some good that came with it. If you woke up every morning in the year of 2020, then it’s a good day in my book. One of the things that happened for me in 2020 is that my hair became a lot thicker and appeared more healthier, and I reached my goal of bra-strap length. As some of you may know, my short term hair length goal is waist length, and my long term hair length goal is thigh length.

I’d say I got a good amount of growth this year, but it wasn’t perfect or phenomenal. After all, they say hair grows on *average* about six inches per year, give or take one or two inches based on diet, climate, and overall hair growth rate. Nothing will physically make your hair grow out of your scalp, but you can boost the speed of which your hair grows out by taking supplements, mixing a few drops of essential oils such as peppermint and tea tree oil into another oil and giving yourself a scalp massage with that, eating foods that are rich in sulfur and biotin such as eggs, and drinking plenty of water. Okay, I slacked off on the water part, but I’ve tried to change my diet for 2020, and it was hard.

So, was my length retention where it should have been for 2020? In my opinion and how I view my hair, no. I could have done a better job, but it wasn’t horrible. I didn’t have any setbacks, except for a slight loosening of my hair texture due to repeated flat ironings. So, how will I handle my hair in 2021?

My plan/new regimen for 2021 is simple. I’m going to leave my hair alone, keep it stretched, keep it clean, and making sure I’m putting the right things in my body to maintain healthy hair growth. For 2021, I’m challenging myself to bun mostly. Wash n go’s and twist outs looked beautiful, but they got old after a while. Bunning is great because it protects the ends from the outside elements and prevents them from getting dry and breaking off from rubbing on your clothes. I’m going to continue to blow dry my hair on low heat to keep it stretched and aid in the reduction of single strand knots to aid in length retention, also to avoid as much tension as possible when bunning. 

In between wash days, while wearing my bun, I’m only going to finger comb through it, and brushing back with a soft bristle brush. I’m going to moisturize my hair at least once a week with water and a little bit of oil. I’m going to give my myself a scalp massage every night after I take my bun down, (at least try to) and then every other night massage Virgin Hair Fertilizer into my scalp for a hair growth boost. 

For diet, I will try to drink more water, herbal teas, juices, and eat more foods rich in vitamins such as bell peppers, spinach, apples, oranges, tuna fish, salmon, carrots. Eggs as well, but not too much. I will take my Women’s 1 A Day vitamin along with my Nature’s Bounty Biotin supplement and Iron pill to balance my anemia. In between my long periods of bunning, I’m only going to flat iron four times a year, once every season, for length checks. Spring, summer, fall, winter. I don’t want heat damage!

I may or may not completely cut out trimming this year to see how long I can go and how long my hair actually grows in a year but it’s still something I’m deciding. I will also get off my lazy butt and exercise as well, but not too hard.

And last but not least, I have decided to completely move away from commercial products, and use products that are all natural and organic as possible. Things such as black soap/castile soap to shampoo, DIY deep conditioners, (currently using 22nd Century Natural Woman’s Deep Conditioner), rice water protein treatments, and aloe vera juice as a leave in. I feel like in order for hair to fully thrive, you should put something on your hair and scalp as close to nature as possible.

Here’s to getting to healthy waist length hair in 2021!

[theexistentialistdancer]

A Eulogy for Roxie

I remember when I first saw Roxie as a puppy, outside the gates of the Mena House golf course. I thought she was a boy dog since she didn’t have anything distinctively girly about her. Her nose was long and narrow, and she was born with no tail and was very small. I couldn’t catch her and so I tried to remember I can’t save every dog. She disappeared for awhile and then when I brought the floof to the shop, she resurfaced and I discovered she was a girl and she was super smart and friendly. She would play with the floof and they had a blast together, and I kinda tried to keep my distance because at that point I already had collected the floof to re-home and I was overwhelmed at having two dogs. As a dog-lover, this is the hardest thing in the world to do, since my instinct is to save all the dogs I see on the streets, but I have serious limitations. I didn’t have the space or the funds or the living environment to have a dog, and that is why the floof was up for adoption. She was older than the floof and was scrappy and a bit of a short stack - definitely fun sized. She never did get very large, but was stocky and developed an elegant beauty about her. Even as a puppy, she had a mind of her own. I would tether the floof to a chain outside the shop, and Roxie was so smart. She knew how to lift the end of the leash off the anchor and free the floof to play with him, and when they would play together on the golf course, she would try to take his leash off of him. She acted like he needed to be freed because he had a harness on, and she LOVED to be independent and run. I nicknamed her “the floof’s girlfriend” and felt so sad I couldn’t take both of them home with me every day. I prayed her sassy attitude and street smarts would keep her safe, since a puppy surviving past nursing is impressive in the pyramids area. 

After the floof left (he was adopted in Boston and is now named Malik), I still hung out with Roxie, who did not have a name yet. I was hesitant to name her because my heart had been so broken by all the other dogs that I had tried to save and failed, but she was street-wise, sweet, and quickly became my shop buddy. I fed her every day and looked for her, but she truly became mine when she had an emergency. Her back left foot had been run over by a car and her bones and muscles were exposed. I found out that it had been like that for about 12 hours. I scooped her up with Kokee and took her to the vet, and she was an absolute dream in the car. She acted like she had been preparing for that moment her whole life, as she had seen the floof leave in the car many times. She looked out the window and made herself right at home. She took many car rides after that, and she was the queen: always looking out the window and challenging the dogs we passed as if to tell them she had arrived.

 We got to the vet and bandaged and cleaned her foot; it was not as bad as it seemed. Her toenail never did grow right again, but she eventually regained almost total use of her foot. She sat at the vet and let him work on her injury like she couldn’t even be bothered to look at it. That was her personality exactly; whenever something uncomfortable happened, she was perfectly aloof until it passed. She was the perfect family dog: tolerant, patient, smart, and independent. We had to change her bandages every 24 hours and clean and put glycerin on her wound. I know it hurt her a lot, but she was so quiet and calm and let us help her every day.

 While at the vet, we discovered she needed to be spayed as soon as possible as she was older than I thought, so we scheduled her surgery. She was super happy staying in boarding, since she got to eat lots of fancy food. The vet laughed at this shaabi baladi dog staying in the same kennels as fancy breeds, but by that time I was already known as the crazy foreigner who brought baladi dogs to get help. We got her all her injections and she had a fancy “pet passport” issued to her. Not long after she was finished with her surgery, Velma arrived.

Velma was a tiny puppy with floppy ears, lanky legs, and velvety fur, and like Roxie, she had no mother to be found. She latched onto Roxie immediately, Roxie was the street-wise, gang boss to Velma’s mushiness, and they perfectly balanced each other. I declared them sisters and finally gave them their official names: Roxie, after Roxie Hart in Chicago (a name that had just stuck with me for her from the beginning), and Velma as her sidekick.

 And so there we were, at our shop by the pyramids: me, Roxie, and Velma. All day, I sat with my dog family and played with them, laughed while they sneaked into the shop to nap, fed them chicken, and trained them to sit. I scratched their ears and sat on the ground with them against all the norms of Egypt, and we had beautiful days. I laughed at how they would steal sandwiches from the cafe next to the shop, and could push the door open to sleep in the air conditioning. Velma loved water so she would go find a nasty puddle to splash around in, and she showed Roxie how to do the same. Velma sat like a baby seal and had to be touching Roxie at all times, and Roxie grumbled in return but tolerated tiny Velma’s love. Roxie was not an overly affectionate dog, but she was loving when she wanted to be. She would give nibbles with her front teeth and liked to sleep up against your back, or with her head pressed up against your leg. I wanted to take them home with me, but I live in a shared house with people who do not like dogs inside and the shop always had people to look out for them, so I had to believe they were as safe as could be arranged in my situation. They were like farm dogs: independent and self-sufficient, and intent on going and visiting anyone they wanted. Roxie had a air of royalty about her, and I declared her the queen of the Haram Street Hooligans, an original gangster. But then one day, animal control came through the area and tried to collect dogs. Roxie hid, but Velma was scooped up until Mimo, Kokee’s dad, saved her. After that, we put them up on the shop roof at night to keep them safe when there was no one around.  

 Thus began the battle of the roof versus street for my two dogs. For Roxie and Velma to stay on the roof, they needed daily water and food, which was sometimes difficult with timing. But they were not allowed to come to my house, so the roof would have to be the best solution. I went every day and made sure they had fresh water and food. People would also let them down to the street during the day, but wouldn’t put them up again at night, not understanding what the big deal was for me to keep them safe. Once, the upstairs door wasn’t secured and they came down to the shop and chewed up some papyrus before taking a nap. Sometimes I had shows so I wouldn’t be back by the shop until late, and then I would discover they had not been put up. I tried to find a home for them, but because they are considered “common” dogs, I was unsuccessful because baladi dogs are everywhere in Giza, and I did not want to split them up. I was their caretaker, the end. With regular poisonings and morning dog sweeps by animal control and the medical research teams, I was beyond paranoid, but I tried to find a balance with what was within my control. The roof wasn’t perfect either; Roxie had decided to climb ALLLL the way to the top and make it her lookout. 

Then two things happened at once:

The roof of the shop was taken by another company, and the pandemic happened. I started fighting to bring both Roxie and Velma home; I was not going to tolerate them being out in the street 24/7. Roxie was smart though, and she snuck into the shops and napped on the couch, staying the night inside. Everyone told me that they were street-savvy and knew their way around, and I should not be so worried. It was not good enough for me, and finally I succeeded in bringing both of my dogs to my house. We anchored a metal hook into the ground for long tethers, and watched them carefully to see where they would go on their own. Our street has a few large households and there were constantly people outside looking after them, including the owners of the same neighboring shops from their original area. After one month, it was clear that they refused to be tethered and would stay on our quiet street, venturing out onto the main road only if someone was with them. We also have a large speed bump on the main street as well, so I was relatively confident that they were safe from cars. Roxie and Velma were, after all, street dogs, and they knew their way around the roads from being free in the pyramids area. 

For a month, everything was perfect. I made them delicious food every day of chicken and rice and eggs, and at first I put potatoes and carrots until I saw that they picked them out and left them in a pile. I cooked their rice with chicken broth that I snuck from the regular food for extra flavor, and was happy that I got to give them yummy things to eat. Roxie buried her food in an old blanket she “borrowed” from who-knows-where, and then panicked when she saw me shake it out and chicken pieces went flying. We decorated our house for Ramadan, and Roxie was perplexed at the speaker. They “helped” hang the streamers and investigated new visitors. They napped in a sand pile at the neighbor’s houses, and stole flip-flops and pranced around like they were the winners. I found a pair of ram horns they had collected and brought home to me. They said hi to the new foal on our street and played with the children. I put their fancy collars from the USA on them, purple for Roxie and pink for Velma (I later had to take them off because some people were planning to steal the collars). It was joyful and I felt like I had finally succeeded in saving them, finally making my house feel like home. I was wrong.

On April 21, 2020, tragedy struck. At 3AM, I argued with Kokee and went downstairs to visit my dogs. Roxie snuggled me, and gave me sweet love nibbles which had a way of bruising afterwards. I laughed that her paws smelled like corn chips, and I searched her body for stray ticks. She had none, as usual - Roxie was very clean somehow. I stroked her short, stiff hair and kissed her long nose, and rubbed her belly, which was dark-colored because under her hair, she had black skin. Her pointed, too-big ears were my favorite to play with, and I scratched them as she rolled off the steps. I pulled her back up, and she flopped right off again. Around 3:30AM, I went back upstairs and went to sleep, comforted by her silly scrappy way of loving. Velma was nearby, but for once she was too interested in sleeping to bother to snuggle me, so I got all of Roxie’s sweetness.

At 8:30AM, I took our Airbnb guest to 6 October to shop. I felt emotional, but I thought it was due to not sleeping well. The car was parked in the back so I looked down the front street to see the dogs on the way out and saw Velma. I assumed Roxie was next to her and just blended into the sand, as she had dug out a nice little crevice to sleep inside. We went to the store and came back around 11. I parked the car and showed my guest the stolen ram horns. I didn’t see either dog (later my memory would trick me about this), but they normally slept behind the house in the shade during the middle of the day so I carried my groceries upstairs and didn’t worry. I knew they were not out on the main street because I would have seen them on my way back.

A few hours later, I went up onto the roof with Mimo. I looked over the side of the roof and again saw Velma. Roxie was no where to be seen but she was so independent that this was not unusual. I went downstairs to clean the kitchen and help with dinner, and Kokee called saying he had food to give the dogs for dinner. Great, I said, but he took a long time to come back. I was heading downstairs to feed the dogs anything I could pull together since Kokee was late, but then he stopped me on the way and said he had something to tell me. Roxie had been hit by a microbus and killed, and it had happened at 6/7AM that morning, not long before I had left to take my client to the store. The supermarket had seen it happen, but they didn’t bother to tell anyone until Kokee had returned. The Egyptian Animal Control had taken her body to somewhere undisclosed (we have yet to find out where they take animals), and the supermarket guy said Velma had sat with Roxie for awhile after she had died, and then came home on her own.

I screamed in anguish. My sweet, mafia-boss Roxie, had been killed and no one told me?! Everyone knew she was my dog. How could she have been killed by a microbus, when they are so slow? I even tried to run away from Kokee in a microbus once in the midst of a silly fight, and later laughed that I took the slowest vehicle in all of Egypt. Donkey carts move faster than a microbus. We have a speed bump. How could no one tell me what happened??? How could I have truly not noticed she wasn’t around for a full day? How was no one on my entire street aware?? We have two uncles, numerous cousins, many friends, and in our own house, eight people. Not a single person was told? There were cameras outside all the stores, but no one was able to produce footage of what happened. She was hit right outside our street, not even in the actual street. I demanded we find her body, and so we went around the normal areas that animals that die are placed for pickup in Nazlet El Semman and searched all the dumpsters to find nothing. Kokee called every contact he had to try to find out where the city takes animals that have been hit by cars, and no one could tell him. Although Velma had been able to say goodbye, I was beyond devastated that I would not be able to bury her, stroke her fur one last time, or apologize for not doing better to save her. I had tried my best, and yet I still failed; she was only 1.5 years old. I had dreamed of when I would have my own place and be able to bring her and Velma inside, to live happy, comfortable couch-napping lives. I thought for sure I had at least a few more years, and I had thought about how I would send them both to the USA to stay with my mom. Roxie’s foot had been healed for 9 months, and it was almost completely normal aside from the occasional toenail flareup.

The other question that was immediate was how Velma would survive without her big sister? Velma relied on Roxie for everything. Roxie took care of her, showed her how to be a street dog, and taught her the mafia life. Without Roxie, Velma turned into a puddle of mush, and they were bonded. Whenever I would be at the shop and I didn’t see one of them, I could ask the one I did see to find her sister. Once, Velma ate half her food, then went and found Roxie and brought her back to share with her. All I had to say was, “where’s Roxie?,” or “where’s Velma?” and the other would find their sister.

The first night without Roxie, we put Velma on my balcony. I had tried to put them both there before, but it had turned into a huge fight. Roxie was very vocal, and she refused to be told what to do. She wanted to either be RIGHT NEXT TO ME or completely free. People complained about her barking. However, with this tragedy, the fight was over - there was no way in hell I was going to leave Velma alone. I had to carry her up two flights of stairs, and I brought her blanket that she stole and her ram horns with her.

The next night, Velma decided to look for Roxie. She sat at the end of my street and watched for her sister, wagging her tail every few seconds in anticipation. Velma is a full-body dog, and every emotion radiates throughout her being. If she is looking for someone, you know it. She laid down and waited, then asked me to go with her outside to the main street by grabbing me with her paw and walking out. We went out to the scene of Roxie’s death, and Velma sat there, looking around, and then sighed and went back home. My heart shattered into even smaller pieces, and I cried more tears than I thought was possible.

The entire house mourned her, although some more than others. We called Zayn, one of our regular shop workers, and told him and he was very upset. Zayn is a very kind, religious man from Upper Egypt, but despite being religious, he loved both dogs and regularly played with them. Unlike many religious people, he had no qualms about petting dogs. Kokee’s mom cried, and his dad was also sad. Roxie was our mascot at the shop, and Mimo knew I loved her deeply. Of course, Kokee was equally as heartbroken as me, as she was just as much his dog as she was mine. He cared for her constantly, gave her food, changed her foot dressings alongside me, took her to the vet while I was traveling, and laughed at her antics. She was a strong part of our family.

Kokee dedicated two Ramadan food bags to Roxie, which is a Muslim way to offer extra help for her soul to go to heaven. All dogs go to heaven, but maybe the food bags earned her the place of mal3ma in heaven too. She was the true queen of Haram Street.

I keep thinking I will see her saunter up my street, coming home. Her ghost haunts me, even though just hours before she died, I gave her so much love and belly scratches. I wish I would have stayed longer and kissed her nose one more time, and scratched her wiry, short hair and booped her ears. I didn’t get to bury her, but at the same time, I know she was buried with other street dogs, so they have each other for comfort. I just wanted a little more time with her before she left me…

I’m grateful I know exactly what happened to Roxie, and that she didn’t just disappear without any record. I’m grateful for the love nibbles she gave me, the snuggles, the comfort, and the laughs. She was silly in the most baladi way possible, with the funniest humor. She definitely gave me some fleas, and she entertained me with chasing moths, sneaking into the shop, and she had a way of communicating that was so clever. She always made it clear what she needed. I’m grateful for all the times I saw her nubbin of a tail wag when I said “I love you Roxie,” and all the side-eye she gave me when I woke her up from a nap. She was the perfect companion, and was so patient and tolerant of everything. and I’m unbelievably grateful that I had the honor to know such a wonderful dog and to borrow her from heaven for awhile. One day, we will nap together on the couch again, and I’ll squish her face and look at her beautiful eyes and kiss her on the nose, and never let her go again.

Rest in peace, ya Roxie. I hope you found other friends from the pyramids over the Rainbow Bridge, and you are all laying in a beautiful pile of soft sand in the sunshine. You are missed every single day by your Earth family, and you were the best dog anyone could possibly hope for. 

In Roxie’s honor, I hope to spay/neuter some dogs in the pyramids area. When the pandemic is under control, I will share details of the plan.