#i have nothing to offer but this rice grain

[thecoiledserpent]

↻ REMEDIAL MEASURES FOR THE PLANETS: THE MOON

basics of vedic astrology. ask box. masterlist.

a weak moon will create unnecessary fears, anxieties and mental health issues. it can make the native moody, be emotionally sensitive, shut off and sometimes when in extremely bad dignity, even psychotic. a malefic moon will pose struggles when it comes to the relationship with the mother, which will further lead to anxiety for the native; furthermore it leads to problems with eyes and the stomach. a weak benefic moon cannot give its results properly and also makes the native become easily influenced.

GENERAL REMEDIES

never spill milk, and ensure that you don't waste water. especially drinking water.

keep hydrated all the time, and offer water to others when you think they might be thirsty or ask you for it. (never ignore anyone who asks for water)

never leave unfinished water. always finish the water you take in your glass.

sleep at appropriate times.

drink water in a silver glass (size doesn't matter, just leave some water in it to charge it with metal ions for some time, it's good for the body too.)

wear silver, if you can. necklace, bracelet, rings, whatever.

always respect your mother, or mother figure. she is the one who gave birth to you and nourished you with her blood. if nothing at all, then at least care for her because of that. talk to your mother as often as possible, and win her heart with your actions and morals.

offer gifts of silver to your mother. this includes but is not limited to jewellery, statues, antique pieces, watch, small trinkets etc.

buy a small silver box, it does not have to be any bigger than 3 X 3 cm, but it can be as large as you'd like too, and have it be filled with rice from your mother's hands. take it, and keep it at your study, or anywhere you will most likely be seeing it most often. you can keep it in a bag, pouch etc too. not in your pocket though, and it shouldn't be opened. replace the rice monthly, if you can.

fast on mondays, and only consume fruits, fruit juices, dry fruits and milk and milk products. no salt or grains in any form should be consumed. (like even kellogs will be considered grains because it has corn in it)

be at peace with crying and being emotional, especially for men.

donate to organizations that serve single mothers, widows, women etc.

keep motifs / statues of deers. a group of 17 deers pull the chariot of the moon god, so a painting of him hung on the north wall is favourable.

for hindus / people believing in idolatry / people with any form of devotion to the planets as gods:

TO BE DONE EVERY FULL MOON:

one thing i wish to emphasize here is that vedic practices like the two following are to be done in places free from the influence of alcohol / drugs / meat / rahu dominant places. after having consumed any of these, stay away from the places where the god is kept / offered remedies to, to respect their sanctity.

employ your imagination to visualize the moon god in an anthropomorphic form (as a human). this is done to create a deeper emotional relationship with the moon which is not possible with an inanimate object.

imagine the moon god as having pale, glowing skin with ethereal eyes that seem to shine. his skin is a shining white, like pearls, holding a vara in one hand and a mace in the other, aboard a chariot of ten white horses. he has a smiling and gentle face, and is adorned beautifully with jewels of silver. he wears white silks, and sits stop the crescent moon as he moves through the sky; waxing and waning in his shine as he does so.

do this as you stand admiring the full moon. you must have a small round silver vessel (lota, image below) filled with raw milk, not boiled and fresh. add some sugar and uncooked rice to it, as well. let the moon's rays fall upon you and then, extend your arms outwards and slowly pour the milk from the lota onto the ground. imagine that the milk is being used to wash the feet of chandra, as he gracefully accepts the offering.

once done, bow to him. it is necessary to do this in the open where the light from the moon falls on you. ensure the moon is visible in the sky, clouds hiding it is not favourable. as you prepare to leave, chant this mantra at least 11 times under your breath:

'OM SOMA SOMAYA NAMAH'

you can also do mantra chanting on a proper rudraksha mala, if you have one. show a diya (pictures above) to the god, and keep it outside, as though offered to his luminous form. the diya can be both, earthen ware or a brass one.

offer sweet items made of milk by you or a family member to chandra, as well. like kheer, vermicelli kheer, makhana kheer etc, their recipes can be easily found on google. take a small bowl of it, offer it to chandra and keep it outside the entire night (cover it to make sure it doesn't get contaminated) and then eat it as prasadam the next day.

keep glass bottles / jars filled with water to the brim, without their covers, as you keep them outside to allow the moonlight to fall on them. after nearly 15-20 minutes, take them back home; you can keep it outside for more time if moonlight is available, but at least do it for 15 minutes. keep this glass jar somewhere safely inside the house, ensuring none of the water is spilt.

TO BE DONE ON MONDAYS / AUSPICIOUS OCCASIONS: (depending upon level of commitment, and financial influence)

if you wish to pray to the moon god and engage in mantra chanting, then you may establish a copper / brass statue of the god, no bigger than your finger (or the thumb if you are a busy person and may have to skip this duty at times. large statues when unkempt curse the native for dishonour of the god.)

following is a good reference statue, and it is the perfect size as well. (i'm not promoting any website btw 😭)

discipline for taking care of statues of gods. not looking after the statue of gods is extremely inauspicious. if you do not have the discipline or time to dedicate some time in the morning / early evening to worship, then don't keep the statue in your home.

i will make a post about this if anyone needs additional or personal tips regarding idol worship, or how you can adjust it better with western culture. do lmk via asks.

REMEDIES TO BE DONE OCCASIONALY / WEEKLY:

offer the moon god the flowers associated with him (lotus, white chrysanthemums, white roses, moonflower, or other white flowers which are not weeds), white coloured garments (it can be any new textile, even unsewn cloth can be offered), uncooked rice (100 g) and silver metal if within means. all of these items are to be distributed amongst brahmins (temple priests) to appease the god.

havan can be done on mondays.

rice cooked with milk can be fed to brahmins (temple priests); you can ask the local temple priests about it, or if any isckon centre is present, then the authorities present there will be able to guide you well about how you can do so. if temples are present locally, then you can simply donate the items / food in a tupperware to the temple priest. the raw materials can also both be offered (raw rice grains and milk packets.

a conch to be given in charity. it is particularly beneficial if the conch shell is engraved with silver for aesthetic purposes. (don't go around thinking this has to be done weekly 😭 do it once, or maybe once every four-five years if you have that devotion and money)

[ugartecoco]

[paperultra]

back of house.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,113 words Warnings: Mild swearing

If it weren’t for his principles regarding women, you’re fairly certain Sanji would’ve throttled and strung you up to dry by now.

“I … I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he says with a bright smile, though under the swinging lights of the kitchen it seems more out of pain than pleasure. “You managed to burn water.”

Your cheeks flame as you peer into the blackened pot with him, all traces of the water you’d been tasked with boiling completely gone. Vanished. You have no idea how or why.

“I’m sorry, Sanji.”

“No need to apologize. Everybody makes mistakes –”

“Sanji!” you hear Zeff before you see him round the corner. “Why the hell do I smell something burning in my kitchen?”

“None of your business, old man,” Sanji snaps immediately, murmuring a quiet excuse me, dear to you before taking the pot by the handle and heading to the sink. He twists the faucet open and running water roars like thunder in your ears as he thrusts the pot underneath. “I have it under control.”

“Under control, eh?" Zeff says. He suddenly turns his squinted gaze upon you, and you shrivel. “This your doing, missy?”

“I –”

“Leave her alone,” Sanji interrupts. “I didn’t give clear enough instructions. It was my fault.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Eyeing your guilty and defeated figure next to the stove, Zeff shakes his head with a sigh and points you to the door. “[Y/n], go out and wait tables for the rest of your shift.”

Immediately, you make a move to remove your apron. “Oka –”

Sanji makes a noise of dissent and turns the faucet off. “Wait tables? She can still chop the vegetables and help me plate.”

“You’ll do that yourself. Front of house needs the extra person, anyway.”

“I’m her mentor.”

“And I’m the damn boss.”

The rest of the staff roll their eyes and carry on while the two men argue in the middle of the kitchen. You swallow and take your apron off, balling it up in your hands. This isn’t the first time they’ve butted heads over your incompetence, and watching them now cuts at your last shred of dignity.

Clearing your throat, you grimace when Sanji’s head whips around to look at you.

“Zeff’s right,” you tell him. “Dinner rush is coming up soon and I’ll just be in the way, anyway.”

Zeff grunts with satisfaction.

The expression on Sanji’s face reminds you of a kicked puppy. “But …” he begins to protest.

“Oi, you heard what she said. Get back to work! We have customers waiting!”

Sanji blusters about before heading back to his station, casting you one final, forlorn look as he does so. You imagine that your own face looks just the same when you turn to leave.

—

You take orders and serve customers for the remainder of the day, as promised, and help with cleanup after closing time. And then, long after the sun’s dipped below the horizon, Sanji joins you on the upper deck with a steaming bowl of seafood fried rice.

“For the madam,” he says with a smile, offering you the bowl.

You accept it silently and take a bite as he sits down next to you. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach. You’ve never known a home quite like Sanji’s cooking.

His eyes remain fixed on you as you eat all of the rice, scraping the bowl for every last grain and setting it down beside you once you’re finished.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. I figured it would cheer you up.”

“It did.”

It did, and yet, your lips tremble and your throat closes up. You clench your hands into fists in your lap.

Sanji’s hand immediately presses your shoulder as you sniffle. “Are you alright?” he questions worriedly.

(His attentiveness strikes you like a hot iron sometimes, even now.)

“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” you whisper.

His brow furrows. As if it’s obvious, he answers, “You want to be a cook. A lady’s wish is my command.” Sanji pauses. “And I can’t call myself the greatest cook in the East Blue if I can’t teach others to be great cooks as well.”

“I think you’d be the greatest regardless.”

You glance at him through watery eyes in time to see his face flush a deep red. He looks away hastily, chuckling with feigned modesty. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”

Your shoulders lift in a shrug as you look back down at your hands. You reach up to blot away your tears.

How could you not think the world of Sanji? Or the world of anyone at the Baratie, for that matter? When you were kicked off the merchant ship you’d stowed away on two years ago, you had been sure that you’d be banned from setting foot in such a fine-looking restaurant. Years of scorn and slammed doors had not given you the chance to think otherwise.

But Sanji spotted you on the docks, called you madam like you really were one, cooked you a meal in the kitchen and talked to you. Zeff gave you a job and a bed of your own. The staff gave you a family.

“We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll figure out something that’ll make everything click for you, and you’ll be a proper cook in no time.” Sanji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and winks up at you. “I promise.”

As always, your heart skips a beat.

“Okay.”

Maybe, you realize suddenly, you don’t necessarily want to be a cook so much as you want to love the way Sanji does.

“That’s my girl.” Standing up, Sanji takes your empty bowl in one hand and offers the other for you to take. “Now, shall I walk the madam to her room, or does she wish to stay out on the deck for a while?”

You allow yourself to grin, considering. “The madam wishes to stay out here and …” you hesitate but then decide to soldier on, “and possibly chat with a dear friend for a few more minutes?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Sanji’s eyes widen a bit. Then he blinks, and then he smiles, drawing his hand back and quickly sitting down next to you once more.

“A lady’s wish is my command,” he says.

He takes out a cigarette, making a quip about Patty while he lights it, and your combined laughter rings out across the Baratie. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach.

Indeed, this is home.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Would they peel an orange for you?

Yes, I saw the TikToks and thought about doing it before I remember I don't have boyfriend

Yes, unprompted

Thoma

There is approximately 30-40 minutes between the time Thoma gives ayato his evening tea and when ayaka needed to be escorted to town.

And like clockwork Thoma would be waiting for you under a tree in the residence, on a somewhat secluded corner with a tray with two tea cups and a little platter with cut up solsettias and oranges.

Even if one day you arrive early where he is still getting settled and just about to start peeling and ask to do it for him he just smiles but refuses with his head.

“ Don't worry about it! Why don't you drink the tea? It's a new blend that arrived today, though you would like it”

Childe ( he is used to peeling fruit for his sibling)

Itto ( hear me out, he hears a girl mention a novel where the main character gets fed apple slices while sick and how attentive that was and immediately starts a competition with nobody to prove himself the 'bestest' boyfriend ever"

Yes, if asked

Zhongli

He doesn't have the same nutritional needs as humans, where we would need variety of vegetables and fruits, grains and meat in his dragon form he only needs three cows every month, now as a human his metabolism had slowed significantly, even then it would be strange to only buy kilos of meat once a month and nothing else.

That is where you help him out, going to his house for diner and lunch to not let the good rot.

“ I saw green tangerine at the stall and decided to buy them” zhongli settles the fabric bag on the table “It reminded me of such a delectable tea I had a while ago, I guessed I would have my hand at it, it will take at most 10 years only”

“ Tea inside tangerines? It sounds nice. Do you think I can eat one, I never had one” he nods from the kitchen putting away a bag of rice and other things while he mumbles about only needing the skin “I don't really want to peel it though… Can you peel it for me?”

Zhongli looks at you, head slightly turned but he smiles as he answers “ as you wish” he walks to the table and grabs a knife, before skillfully cutting the skin and stabbing a wedge “open wide”

Kaveh

Kaveh might work as an architect, loving the flow and composition of his buildings, but that love extends further away to other areas of art, from painting to rug making to clothes, so when you ask him for help when remodeling your home ( you paying) he was on cloud nine.

Walking and haggling the price all around the grand bazaar from 7 am (he insisted all the good things arrived early) to 3 pm was expectedly tiring to your legs and to your head, seeing how happy kaveh was with a 20 mora discount. So when you two stopped at alhaitham’s house to leave some bags you threw yourself on the ergonomic couch that was on the living room.

“Oh, we didn't stop to drink anything all morning, do you want some water and…” you could hear him rummaging around the shared kitchen for something to offer “ … some oranges?”

You only sigh but nod, even if you knew he wouldn't see “ water is fine. I don't want to peel anything, I hate how the smell lingers on my fingers”

Kaveh brings a jug with cool water “ I can peel it for you if you want, I don't really mind”

“... Yes, please “

Diluc ( would ask a maid the first time but when they tell him what it means he starts peeling it himself)

Neuvillete (furina said it was something sweet between lovers and it stuck with him)

Wriothesley

Not really/ doesn't find the point:

Alhaitham

At breakfast he doesn't like to eat heavy, not wanting to dirty his kitchen before going to work and not having much appetite so early. Usually a warm cup of tea or coffee and a bit of fruit or bread.

Seeing as he was picking an apple from the bowl on the kitchen you ask him to pick you an orange to which he only nods and grabs you a knife.

Leaving it in front of you he sits on the contrary chair and bites through the apple and sips his tea.

“ I don't really want to peel it, though… maybe someone could do it for me” you look at him, hinting at him

“ Do you want an apple then? You don't have to peel it” he doesn't look up from the book on the table even as you sighs

Wanderer (rat man)

Kaeya ( does it because you asked him but doesn't find the point in asking him for such a small favor. Prefers showing love/care in other ways)

[thenanbakacorner]

Can you write some headcanons of Liang, Trois, Honey and Kiji with a fem reader who has a mesmerizing song that can put anyone to sleep and that she uses to relax them after they went through a stressful situation? I just want something fluff 😔😔

Daww absolutely! Lez get sum fluff up in here (♡＾▽＾♡)

With the inmates you are their cellmate, and with Kiji, you are a guard!

* * *

🍑 Liang 🍑

Liang had a rough day of training, nothing seeming to go his way. First he failed to beat Samon, then he tripped up while pulling tires, then he pulled a muscle..

He was beyond upset and stressed. What was with him today? He's better than this mess he's been!

When you offer to help him calm down, he's hesitant, but agrees-- anything to help him feel better, he guesses

You lay his head on your lap and start to quietly sing, and he finds himself quickly relaxing

His eyes fall shut and he practically melts into your lap, starting to doze off as he feels the stress melting away with each note of your song

When he wakes up, you have him settled on the bed, and for a moment he misses laying on your lap

He makes a mental note to turn to you for assistance when he's stressed the next time around.. and every time after that

🎱 Trois 🎱

Trois had a bit of a headache from stress and irritation; there was a big argument at the mess hall between a few bickering inmates and he got caught in the crossfire of thrown food

His perfectly good, freshly cleaned outfit was soiled with gravy, rice grains and other mystery stains

Kiji got on his case about it, complaining about how many things he'd have to do to prevent the stains from being permanent

When you offered to help him de-stress, his only reply was a sullen nod and a soft "Please."

You pulled him against you, letting his head rest on your shoulder, and as you started to sing, you could feel him relax against you, going almost bonelessly limp

It didn't take long for him to pass out, almost falling down as he did, so you carefully moved him to be laying on the bed, though he muttered a little objection as you moved him

He may or may not lie about headaches and stress in the future when he feels like cuddling up to you and falling asleep to your singing voice

🎯 Honey 🎯

After losing several games with Uno in the game room, and being the victim of some pointed teasing and taunts, he was practically ripping his beautiful purple hair out

Before you offered to calm him down, he was stomping around your cell, muttering under his breath and huffing out curses and bad will on Uno

You end up grabbing him by the wrist to snap him out of his rage and calmly tell him to relax, before leading him to the bunk so you can sit down with him

As you start singing, his breathing slows slowly but surely, and he crease in his brows soften

Eventually he sags a bit, and leans to rest against your shoulder, finding it hard to stay infuriated under such a soothing song that had him feeling drowsy

As he dozes further, you move him to be resting against your lap, and you run your fingers through his hair, only making him more sleepy with each drag of your fingers

Even as he sleeps, he has a hold on your wrist as you go to move away, pretty much forcing you to stay by him as he slept off his irritation

🦚 Kiji 🦚

Hajime had gotten himself suspended again after he broke an inmate's teeth for getting sassy with him, leaving Kiji and some of his fellow supervisors to pick up the slack

Kiji was sat at his desk as he filled out paperwork, a hand in his hair as he sighed wearily; this was the 3rd stack he'd gone through.

You were known amongst the guards as a "song bird", being able to sooth anyone's worries with your singing, so Kiji had no hesitation to ring you up to his office

You pulled up a chair to sit next to him, and while he worked, you worked your own magic; singing to him quietly while rubbing his shoulder in a comforting manner

What Kiji didn't expect though was to be so enamored by your voice that as you sang to him, he'd start to drift off, his eyes getting heavy

Eventually he ends up letting his eyes fall shut, resulting in him slumping over his desk and starting to snore

Not wanting to bother him when he very clearly needed a power nap, you take the paperwork out from under his chin and work on it yourself, getting the majority of it done to save Kiji anymore trouble

[lou-struck]

Too Many Pumpkins

Shinsuke Kita x reader

Flufftober Day 4- Too Many Pumpkins

WC: 2.3k

- After a successful morning at the farmers market, Shinsuke finds an unexpected gift in his truck.

There are two types of people in the world. Those who wake up at the crack of dawn on Saturday mornings and those who don't. Usually, you fall into the second category, but thanks to the gentle coaxing and sweet promises from your Partner, you find yourself miles away from home, organizing little bags of rice on Shinsuke's wooden vendor stall for the last Farmers Market of the season.

Ever since the market opened, you have had a line at your till; a few people come to your little stand hoping to just buy one bag of rice but find themselves reaching for another after they catch a glimpse of Shinsuke's stunning smile. You understand, but are thankful though that he uses those good looks of his for good and not evil, because if he decided that after high school he wanted to start a pyramid scheme or a cult, you probably would still be with him.

When the clock in the square chimes on the hour you glance around your stand to find only your empty little display boxes on the counter. Accomplishment blooms in your chest, as you see Shinsuke walking back from helping an older customer, carry her bags out to her car. (Because, of course, he is)

"How are we doing?" he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

With a satisfied grin, you turn your head and lean into his embrace, "We are completely sold out." you hmm.

His eyes widen in shock as they flicker between you and his now-bare tabletop. "Everything? Even the large bags behind the counter."

"Those went first," You chuckle, peering down at the table and looking for anything you may have missed. "I don't even think there's one grain of rice left to spare."

"Oh my, that's wonderful. I should leave you in charge more often." he smiles, but it fades slightly as he scans the tent. "Are you looking for something?" You bite your lower lip worriedly. Is it possible you forgot something when you were running the stand for him?

"Nothing like that at all; I just forgot that I have one last delivery to make before we can call it a day." He reaches into the pocket of a cloth bag and pulls out the last bag of rice of the season. This one, in particular, is tied neatly with a cute little bow printed with pumpkins and bats.

"That's adorable, who is that for?"  You ask wondering who from his farmers market family he set this aside for.

"It's for Ms.Kaho. Do you remember her?" 

You nod. Ms. Kaho is the sweetest old lady ever; she runs a huge produce stand a few tents down from you and seems to have a new embellished sweater for every occasion. Every time you visit her stall, she has you 'quality check' her fruit of the week and sends you on your way with a new story about someone you have never met and some serious grandmotherly advice.

Needless to say, you would let the world burn for that little lady.

"I could bring it to her," you offer immediately. "Then, when I get back, we can explore the rest of the market."

"Thank you, that would be great," he says, setting the pouch into your outstretched hand. You can tell he is itching to clean up. He hasn't outgrown his diligent habits from his youth, nor is he likely to do so anytime soon. Which works out for you because you have no clue how to dismantle that wooden table he sets up.

Stepping out into the market, you see tents sprawled out all over the town square. It's busier than the other weekends as people pass by you with their arms full of freshly cut flowers and little pumpkins. You weave through the crowd to Ms. Kaho's large produce stand. 

You see her bright orange pumpkin sweater and her wide-brimmed straw hat talking to a customer when she notices you. She greets you with a wide coral-painted smile and immediately hobbles over to you with outstretched arms. 

"Y/n, it is so good to see you, dear," she says, squeezing you tightly. "How is the rice selling today."

"It's going well," you wheeze. "We actually just sold out a few minutes ago, but we wanted to give you this as a little gift." You hold out her little rice bag to her, and her face lights up like a Christmas tree. 

"Oh, aren't you the sweetest thing," she gushes, grabbing the rice bag with her fall-themed acrylics, "You're Not leaving yet, are you?"

"No, we are planning on walking around for a bit," you answer, knowing you are walking into a trap. 

She claps her hands together, "Wonderful, I just have a little gift for you two, but I'll just slip it into your truck before you go."

"Thank you, but you have done so much for us already," you say with a sweet smile. "I'd hate to take anything from y.." 

"Nonsense," she huffs, slipping her rice bag behind her cash box. "What kind of friend would I be if I let Yumie's family go hungry during the winter? You kids go enjoy the rest of the market, and I'll just drop it in your truck."

Before you can say anything else on the subject, she expertly steers you out of her tent and pushes you away with a sweet little goodbye.

~

"Come on, Shin," you frown, crossing your arms as the two of you walk back to his truck. "You have to let me hold something."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," he says bluntly as if he doesn't have bags filled with everything from soap to sourdough weighing down his arms. Having sold his entire stock, he is in a great mood and is spoiling you relentlessly, buying everything that you look at for more than three seconds. The most recent addition is a crochet little ghost plushie holding a piece of candy corn. 

You are nearing the parking lot when suddenly Shinsuke stops in his tracks. "Oh my…" Following his gaze, your eyes land on his truck, and your eyes nearly bug out of your head. "His truck bed, having been completely empty when you last left it, is now filled to the brim with pumpkins and squashes of all shapes and sizes.

"Did someone use your truck to rob a pumpkin patch?" you ask in a whisper. 

"It looks like Ms. Kaho is at it again," he sighs, shaking his head. And you immediately remember your conversation with the elderly farmer at her produce stand. 

"She said she has a gift for you," you say. "But I didn't realize that this is what she meant."

He laughs, "I should've warned you; she has a tendency to go over the top when giving gifts. One time, when I was a boy, I told her I liked a certain brand of seaweed chips, and she proceeded to give me a pallet of them for Christmas.

"Oh dear.." you say, imagining little ten-year-old Shinsuke unwrapping a mountain of chips. But looking at the sight in front of you brings you back to reality. "But there are just so many of them. Do you think we could bring a few back to her? I'd hate to take away her product."

He frowns. "That's not gonna happen; she's as stubborn as they come; when she puts her mind to something, there isn't much that will change it. Not to mention, her farm is the largest in the county, she grows so many pumpkins, this load isn't making a dent in her stores."

"So what are we going to do?"

"for now, we should get home; we can figure out what we're going to do with all these pumpkins there."

~

It was just before noon when you two pulled up the gravel driveway of Shinsuke's farm. The Sun peeks through the thinning clouds and shines off of the literal cornucopia in the bed of his faded blue truck.

Since Shinsuke insisted on unloading the pumpkins himself, you have busied yourself with sorting the various gourds into piles based on size and variety.

"88"

"89"

"Anddd 90." Just to be sure, you scan the room looking for any stragglers when Shinsuke slips off his boots at the door. "I think we got all of them."

"Not quite," he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the smallest little orange and white speckled pumpkin you have ever seen. "This one was hiding in the back."

"It's so tiny," you say, taking it from his hand eagerly. And adding it to the top of the mini pumpkin pile on the kitchen table. "These little ones would be great for decorations."

"That's true," he muses, admiring all your hard work. "These Kabocha Squashes store really well, I can ask my grandmother for a few of her recipes so I can make them for you."

"That would be great," your mouth begins to water at the thought of trying another one of Yumie's family recipes. Glancing down at the next pile you see that these pumpkins are bright orange but are just a bit larger in size than a softball. "What about the others?"

"Oh, those are pie pumpkins, I believe," he says knowledgeably. "They are great for canning and making puree; the others can be used for that too, but there are just too many and not enough canning supplies, so he says that you can just use those and roast their seeds."

"I thought you had lots of canning stuff; what happened to it?" You ask, recalling the huge stash of supplies you stumbled across in his barn a few months ago. His cheeks turn a rare pink as he glances down at the floor. Apparently, this isn't the first time Ms. Kaho has surprised him with one of her gifts.

Glancing down at the last batch of pumpkins, you see they are the large, stereotypical kind that one associate with fall. "How about these ones? Do you think we have time to carve out thirty Jack o lanterns?"

He lets out a low chuckle at your little joke as he walks across the room to the pile and inspects them carefully. After a minute or two, he reaches through them, pulls out two perfect-looking ones, and places them on the counter. "How about 2 Jack o lanterns?"

"That would be fun, but what about the rest?" you ask, knowing that you still have too many pumpkins.

"Would you mind if I borrow you for the rest of the day?" he asks in a tone you can't quite place. "I have an Idea about how we can fix our little problem."

~

For the second time today, you find yourself sitting comfortably in Shinsuke's passenger seat; your boyfriend has a soft little grin on his face as he grips the wheel with one hand and fiddles with your fingers with the other.

Despite your best efforts, he will not tell you anything about where you are going or what you are going to do with the 29 (you counted) pumpkins in the back. But this little spontaneous adventure is thrilling nevertheless. 

"Will you please tell me where we are going?" you ask softly. Taking his hand, you raise it to your lips and kiss the tips of his fingers lightly, hoping that a little bribery with his favorite currency will get him to talk. 

He shakes his head and exhales lightly. "We are almost there, just a few more minutes." His tone is stern yet loving, and you know that no matter what you do, his resolve will not waiver. 

With a huff, you turn away and glance out the window, watching as houses and parks pass you by until he slows down and pulls in front of a familiar-looking house.

"Looks like he's home," he murmurs, and you try so hard to figure out who he is talking about. 

"Are you ready?" he asks, and you turn your head, but before you can ask him what he means, he is sliding out of his car seat. You follow his lead as he grabs two pumpkins from the back and hands one to you. 

Holding his finger to his lips, his eyes are alive with life as he creeps up to the front door of the house. Noisily, you see a package on the front porch and squint to look at the label. A. Miya, and it hits you; this is the home of your boyfriend's former teammate from Irizaki High School. 

Shinsuke diligently sets the pumpkin on his friend's porch, and you smile; seeing this playful side of your boyfriend is rare, but you love it just as much as his diligent, serious side. Crouching down, you set it carefully on the professional volleyball player's front step. "Get ready to run."

"Run?" you parrot, watching in confusion as he raises his fist to the door and raps loudly on the wood. Without skipping a beat, he spins around and grabs your hand as you run back to the truck. Even in his haste, he opens the door for you before zipping around to the driver's side. 

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the truck as you drive around the corner, stopping a safe distance away from the house. 

"This. Was your plan?" you pant, placing your hand on your chest to feel your racing heart.

"Yes…" he says, looking at you with pink cheeks. "What do you think?"

"I think…" you pause, letting your lips curve up into a sly smile. "I think I want to know where we are going next."

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network @ambiguouslady42

[violetstormms]

FNAF Sun and Moon x yn Fic List Update 2

This is update 2 for my FNAF Sun and Moon x yn fic list. www.tumblr.com/violetstormms/710457016218435584/sunmoon-fnaf-fanfic-recommendation-list?

As always look at the tags and read at your own discretion as while I will try not to include explicit material in this list, the stories can contain other mature content. If you want to see future updates to this list feel free to follow the “Violetstormm fic list updates” tag

*Ghost in the Machine by Qwille

archiveofourown.org/works/49134853/chapters/123968842

You are not strong in the Sight. To you, the supernatural has become the background noise of a mundane and lonely life. You have no interest in becoming involved with ghosts.

But they have every interest in you.

When your eccentric great uncle offers you a job fixing the ‘jewel’ of his collection—the original Fazco Daycare Attendant—you expect a challenge, sure. This was undoubtedly going to be the biggest project of your life. You expect pain, mistakes, and late nights aplenty, and you expect an excruciating learning curve.

You do not expect the other Daycare Attendants.

How can you know what to live for when the world you were built for is gone?

~Apex Polarity by NaffEclipse

archiveofourown.org/works/50448256/chapters/127466095

In the Arctic, all is beautiful and cold and lethal. You tread over ice and underneath, a dark, powerful siren stalks you. Though you try to resist, you succumb to the lure of the mer and his decision to have you.

How do you survive an apex predator?

+He's a Little Confused but he's got the Spirit by Twi75

archiveofourown.org/works/48846175/chapters/123221785

All you wanted was to wake up, go to work, pay your bills, and sleep. Look's like someone is just a bit greedy now aren't they? Not to worry though, your friends at Fazbear Entertainment are more than happy to put you in your place with their state-of-the-art AI. Specifically the AI that's running the Daycare Attendant. Yeah, that one.

_____

This is my first fic on the website, I am both ashamed and filled with pride. Going to try for weekly updates but absolutely no promises. Comments and critique are always welcome

*Celestial Tinkerer by justfangirlstuffs

archiveofourown.org/works/49890448/chapters/125950240

You are just a humble tinkerer of animatronics trying to make their way in a city that doesn't care if you live or die. However, two infamous mob bosses have taken a rather keen interest in your skills, making your life a little more complicated than you'd like. Sun and Moon are determined to have you under their rule, but you won't bow so easily.

*The Crimson Horror by Rainbow_Blahaj

archiveofourown.org/works/50154937/chapters/126663922

After dropping out of college and moving back to the countryside village you grew up in where no one seems to remember you. You struggle to make ends meet and end up having nowhere else to turn to for employment but the local Mortuary. Which was run by two oddly endearing Animatronics, one sporting a sunny theme while the other sported that of the night. Foolishly unaware of what was to come you took the grave digger position thinking nothing of it, just finally happy you could afford grains of rice again. Ignoring the obvious red flags as more and more bodies start showing up in the morgue and news headlines talk about a potential serial killer or vampires on the loose you shrug it off. After all what were the chances all of these things were related, there's no way that was possible, right?

Unbeknownst to you that if you weren’t careful in the coming months, you too could end up 6 feet like all the other victims of the crimson horror (roll credits).

+(In Their) Astral Orbit by Rinzydings

archiveofourown.org/works/46904530/chapters/118150936

The dreaded fire has come and burned the Pizzaplex to the ground. Waking up in a panic, Lyell races to the scene and braves the destruction in order to find the DCA. Recovering the weakened animatronic, they take the Daycare Attendant home and do everything they can to clean and get them repaired. The bond between human and robot deepens, and Lyell briefly questions where to possibly go from here.

But before we get to that, let's take a trip down memory lane and see how on earth it all came to this.

+I Think I Smell A Rat by Eyndr

archiveofourown.org/works/45725968/chapters/115070719

Being a robotic repair rat who lives in the walls of the pizza-plex is a pretty great gig, all things considered! You fix the wires instead of chew them, and you get into tight spaces those silly humans can't reach and fix things up behind the scenes. You do your little tasks diligently, and all is well. That is, until one night when you realize all of your other repair rat friends have gone missing, and almost all of those animatronics outside the walls are acting strange... You aren't sure what it is that needs fixing, but by golly you'll fix it! You just might need a little help along the way...

*Bethroned by Strawbubbysugar

archiveofourown.org/works/49899715/chapters/125973496

The Human Kingdom of Porphyal has long been at war with The Kingdom of Atomata, a strange land filled with sentient automatons. The cause for the start of the bloodshed has been lost to time, but it will soon be drawing to a close with the arranged marriage of the Heir of Porphyal and the Heir of Atomata, set to be wed when they reach of age, uniting the Kingdoms in peace at last.

Though it is uncertain if the temporary truce will last long enough to see this come to pass.

-Cold Front by Stormimur

archiveofourown.org/works/43212384/chapters/108609540

Everything is fine. Nothing is wrong. How could you want something more than this? The Superstar Daycare has everything an animatronic could ever want! Sun and Moon are fine, perfectly fine even! Everything is a-okay!

Until it wasn't.

In the wake of the biggest loss comprehensible to them, Sun and Moon must learn to navigate the world around them. And you? You're the poor, unfortunate victim who took on a job seven years ago.

[wndaswife]

gerri fields & fem!reader

tags: drabble, fluff, mentions of sexual themes, slight possessiveness

summary: During your date with her, Gerri proposes a deal.

a/n: partial idea credit goes to this ask ! :D

With a Chinese takeout container in one hand and the other digging through your noodles for a piece of fried shrimp with a pair of chopsticks, you spoke with a mouth half full, “Snape is shady as fuck.” 

“No. He’s just misunderstood, kinda,” your girlfriend argues, wagging her chopstick in the air as Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire plays on her laptop. “No one gets him at first. Just wait until we get to Half-Blood Prince.”

You wave her hand away with a laugh. “Gerri, you’re getting pieces of your fried rice in my face.” She reaches over and picks up one of the rice grains from your shirt and puts it into her mouth before raising her eyebrows at you.

You give her a look that she returns as you lean to the side and place your takeout box with your chopsticks down on Gerri’s nightstand. Then you lift up one of the spring rolls from the plastic container laying between the two of you. “Wanna split?” you ask then look over your shoulder to her.

She nods. “Yeah. Give me half,” she answers then puts her own takeout box down. She outreaches her hand and you give her half of the spring roll. Then the both of you lay back against the headboard of her bed amongst an array of pillows.

After a while when both your dinners are finished and you’re now lounging against each other lazily, Gerri looks up from your shoulder and seems to just be watching you. 

A smile forms on your face and you chuckle awkwardly when you look down and see her staring intently at you. “What?”

“Nothing,” she answers with a smile. “Just feel like kissing you.” Then she places a hand on your thigh, using the leverage to reach up and meet your lips with hers. Her actions hasten and her hand moves over to your furthest thigh, squeezing you softly as she gets onto her knees.

Her lips didn’t part from yours for a moment. Her hair slips down from behind her ears and tickles the sides of your face as she moves a knee over your legs and takes a seat on your lap. She cups both your cheeks in her warm palms, thumbs moving gently across your cheekbones as she caresses you through the kiss.

Your hands move down her body to flatten against the back of her hips and you bring her close so she’s pressed against you. She moves onto her knees again and lifts herself from your lap so you have to tilt your head up to kiss her.

“Watermelon?” you exhale against her lips when she finally pulls back to take a breath.

She grins and meets your eyes. “It’s my lip gloss.”

Gerri quickly runs the tip of her tongue over your lips which makes you giggle. She tightens her arms around your neck, enamored by your laugh. “Tastes like strawberry,” she notes.

“My chapstick,” you say.

She kisses you again but parts from your lips to trail kisses down your cheek. Her lips reach your neck and you feel yourself shiver at the feeling of her tongue darting out occasionally to flick teasingly against your skin, gentle kissing moving all the way down to your clavicle before Gerri straightens again and sits back down onto your lap.

“Y/N,” she says, slightly breathless. “Let’s make a deal.”

Taking a few seconds to steady yourself after Gerri’s kisses, you inhale deeply before answering, “What kinda deal?”

“I want us to lose our virginities to each other,” she says confidently. “I want you to promise that I’ll be your first time. I mean, it might be obvious that we’ll — you know — at some point.”

She becomes a bit bashful and looks away from you with a shy smile. Then she meets your eyes again. “But I want to make sure. I want to make sure it’s me. I want to make sure it’s you. I want to be your first everything.”

With a smile that does a poor job at suppressing how thrilled you feel by her offer, you quickly reply, “Me too. I wanna be everything to you, Ger. I promise.”

She lifts her pinky finger up between your faces. You wrap yours around hers, sealing your promises to each other, and Gerri lowers both your hands to kiss you softly, her lips moving against yours with delicate passion. 

Gerri disconnects her pinky finger from yours and takes your hand. She brushes the tip of your noses against each other when she rests her forehead against yours. 

You gaze into each other's eyes and she smiles before the two of you break into a fit of girlish giggles. Both of you bask in the enthralling feeling of intimacy that comes with having promised your first times to the other.

There’ll be a lot of firsts with Gerri.

It makes your stomach fill with butterflies just thinking about it.

[guilty-pleasures21]

Yooooooooouuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!! You SUCK!

I'm actually going to start posting a new chapter everyday, just because 😁.

0. The Slow Burn

Part 1 - the meet-cute

Part 2 - the coffee mug

Part 3 - the spicy song

Part 4 - the absence

Part 5 - the watch/the sweet song

Part 6 - the backrub

Warnings: none.

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

“So,” Jess began, her eyes flicking up to gauge X’s reaction, “you and Miguel, huh? Can’t say I’m not surprised.”

She froze, her eyes widening with terror at the implication of Jess’s words. She swallowed her food slowly, trying to keep herself calm as she replied. “What about me and Miguel?”

“Oh, come on, X!” MJ gave her a light smack on the arm. “It’s so obvious that you guys like each other!”

Another pause, another attempt at not choking on her food. Was it really? Did he like her? Like, like-like her? In the same way that she like-liked him? She kept her head down, trying to hide her blush from everyone else at the table.

“No way,” she protested weakly, pushing the last few grains of rice around her plate. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “There’s no way he likes me. Like that.”

How could he? When he was so handsome and strong and smart and … and she was just her. Small and quiet and with absolutely nothing to offer him. She slumped over, disappointed.

“Of course he does!” Ben reassured her, noting her sudden drop in mood. “It’s so obvious even I can tell.”

Her lips twitched at that, but she kept her head down, still hesitant to believe it.

“I don’t know,” she argued softly. She bit her lip, considering the next words out of her mouth. “What … Why do you think so?”

She looked up at them, the nerves written plainly all over her face. She must really, really like him. Jess grinned.

“Girl, you should have seen him when you weren’t around,” she informed X, waving her spoon in the air enthusiastically. “The man was basically throwing a tantrum the entire day!”

“Oh my God, yes!” Ben agreed, his eyes wide as he leaned forward in his seat. “I asked him if we had any cashew nuts left and he got so mad at me! He started cursing and swearing and everything!”

X let out an amused snort at the revelation, finally seeming to ease up a little. She returned her attention back to her food, rolling the rice around her plate.

“What does that have to do with me, though?” MJ and Ben sighed, both of them exchanging incredulous glances.

“Because!” MJ replied, insistent on making her understand. They’d be so cute together, after all, the big and grumpy Miguel who only ever let himself relax when he was around her, and the small and shy X who’d light up with excitement whenever she was with him. They made each other happy, and what more could anyone ask for?

“Hey guys,” Peter began, settling into the seat beside X. “What are we talking about?”

He looked around at their faces, trying to discern the subject from the excited looks on Ben’s, MJ’s and Jess’s faces and the hesitant smile on X’s.

“Peter!” MJ exclaimed, her expression transforming into one of victory as she looked at him. “Tell her! Tell X how much Miguel missed her when she was gone.”

Ohhh. So that’s what they’d been talking about. X glanced over at him nervously, her eyes wide as she waited for his answer.

“It’s true,” Peter revealed, giving her a gentle pat on the forearm. “He was practically counting down the days until you came back!”

She grinned, then lowered her head, letting her hair fall over her face to hide her blush.

“Oh.” Her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the happiness in it. Then suddenly, a vibration buzzed through the air, causing her to jump in her seat. She looked down at her wrist and began tapping frantically on her watch, trying to stop the notification that her vitals were abnormally high.

“X? What’s wrong?” She turned around, startled to find Miguel standing right behind her. She froze, panicked, then turned around quickly, curling into herself to hide her expression from him.

“Nothing!” She winced when her voice came out as a squeak. Then she cleared her throat and tried again. “Um, nothing. What’s up with you, Miguel?”

He’d heard - he’d heard everything they’d said about him being agitated when she’d been away. And then he’d heard her heart, pounding in her chest at the thought that he might have missed her. He swung his leg over the bench, taking the seat on her other side. Then he glanced around at the others, his eyes narrowing in suspicion beneath his eye protectors.

“Are they bullying you?” She turned to him, lips parting in horror at the suggestion.

“No! No, they’re … they’re not bullying me.” She waved her hands, then lowered her head again, her lips curling into a shy smile that had his own heart racing. She brushed her hair behind her ear, then flickered her eyes back up to his, peeking up at him from beneath her curly lashes. Dios, she was cute. He cleared his throat, shaking away the thought.

“Then why was your heart beating so fast, arañita?” Oh God. Had he heard? Had he heard her heart speeding up at the thought that he might like her? That she most definitely liked him? As more than a friend? She pulled her gaze away from his, trying to ignore the warmth radiating off of him, the pure masculine scent of him flooding her senses.

“Um, did you … did you hear that?” she asked him apprehensively. “Or did you get a notification?”

The corner of his lips curled at her reaction. Could it really be true? Could she really have had a crush on him? A passing infatuation that would wear off once she knew the real him? His stomach curdled at the thought, his smile slipping slightly.

“I heard it,” he told her, wanting to tease her, to see that shy smile grace her lips once again. She tensed, her fingers curling into fists as she studiously avoided meeting his gaze. He lowered his head, his lips stretching wider as he tried to get her to look at him. “¿Qué pasa, arañita? Is something bothering you?”

He straightened when she looked up at him again, that devilish smirk taking over his features. God, he was so hot. She squeezed her legs tight, dragging her gaze away from his as she clasped her hands together. He carried on, undeterred by her lack of response. “Or someone?”

He reached out and scratched her waist lightly with his finger, causing her to let out a surprised squeak. He snickered at the sound, only getting more amused when her watch started buzzing again, signalling the increase in her heart rate. MJ reached across the table and punched him in the arm.

“Stop teasing her like that, Miguel!” she scolded him when he turned to glare at her. He returned his attention to X, raising an eyebrow and feigning confusion.

“I’m not teasing her,” he argued, convincing absolutely no one at the table. “I’m just worried about her vitals being so high.”

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, wondering if he knew exactly why she was getting so flustered right now.

“I just have a naturally high resting heart rate,” she protested, still avoiding his gaze. “And I have an anxiety disorder! Therefore, I would like to petition for the sensitivity of my watch to be turned down. Just a little?”

She held up her finger and thumb, wincing as she awaited his response. He smirked again, holding his hand out for hers.

“Well, if your vitals are naturally so abnormally high,” he began, fiddling with her watch, “then maybe we should increase the sensitivity. Just a little.”

He pulled on her wrist, tugging her closer to him so that her knee was pressing against his. She let out a little whimper and, mierda, the sound of it, the reminder of how absolutely tiny she was compared to him, it drove him wild. He leaned down slightly, bending over to murmur in her ear.

“After all,” he continued, his fingers still curled around her wrist, “we wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you, would we, arañita?”

She looked up at him, eyes wide, lips parted in surprise, so close he could have leaned forward and brushed his own against them. Then her watch started vibrating again, and she pulled her hand out of his grasp, holding it close to her chest as she frowned up at him. Dios, she was cute when she was mad.

“You’re so mean, Miguel!” she huffed, getting up from the bench. She picked up her plate, going over to return it to the kitchen, and he followed after her, catching up to her easily.

“Arañita,” he called, grabbing her wrist to get her to stop. “I was only joking, arañita.”

She set her plate down, then turned around to face him, that adorable frown still etched onto her features. He took a step closer to her, forcing her to crane her neck back to look up at him.

“Here, let me fix it,” he reassured her, tapping on her watch again. She held her breath as he worked, trying to keep herself calm even though their proximity was making her heart leap out of her chest and into her throat. Finally, he released her, letting her arm fall back to her side. “There. It should be better now.”

“Um, thanks, Miguel.” She clasped her hands behind her back, that shy smile taking over her features as she shifted in place. “See you tomorrow!”

And then she ran off without another word. He crossed his arms, trying not to let out a frustrated groan as he watched her retreating figure. Ay, ¡por Dios! Why did she have to be so f*cking cute?!

She wasn’t here again - something about going out with a friend. But it was okay this time, because he knew he’d see her tomorrow. That didn’t stop the uncomfortable ache in his chest that made him feel like his day was missing something though. He rubbed his chin, studying the data in front of him. There was something he wasn’t seeing, something that X would have stared at for a minute and then figured out somehow. Maybe he’d just wait for her to come back.

“Lyla?” She popped up beside him immediately.

“Yes, boss?”

“Play some of that music that X always plays.”

“Copy that. Pulling up her playlist now.” She disappeared and then the sound of old-timey pop music began filling the room - well, old-timey to him anyway. He furrowed his brow, not recalling having heard this song before - he’d listen in sometimes, when she put her earphones in to start playing her music: because it helped her focus, she’d told him when he’d asked her about it. He’d grabbed her phone then, showing her how to connect it to the speaker system so that she could just play it out loud in the lab or the control room. Her eyes had widened with amazement and she’d treated him to that sweet smile he was getting far too fond of as her music started playing around them. He’d waved her thanks away, doing his best to ignore the way his heart fluttered in his chest as he turned back to his monitors.

���Son esas ganas de sentirte cerca, al pronunciar tu nombre …’ He paused for a second, surprised by the Spanish flowing through the speakers. He knew she listened to Spanish songs sometimes, French ones too, but it always made his heart skip a beat, the reminder that she could understand his native tongue.

‘Qué está pasando, que esa carita divina, se ha vuelto mi medicina, y poco a poco yo me estoy sanando …’ His lips curled at the lyrics, a very specific little face popping into his head immediately: thick, curly lashes framing large, almond-shaped eyes, her full lips so soft and rosy. She had seemed to pop up in his life right when he'd needed it the most. And she never asked him for anything, nothing except his company, the two of them sitting in contented silence for hours at a time. And everything always seemed so much easier whenever she was around, less … scary. Just like in the song. He pulled out his tools, setting the data aside and deciding to work on some gadgets instead. He’d take a little break, come back to the problem after he’d given his brain some time to reset. And maybe she’d be back by then, there to lend a fresh set of eyes to the problem. But then the music started to fade away, the song changing to a new one, and he looked up, frowning.

“Lyla,” he called her back, “play the other one again. The Spanish one.” The song restarted and he felt his lips quirk at the ends again, the tension leaving his body as he settled down to get some work done.

She’d had fun today; going out with her friend to get some shopping done. But, of course, it still wasn’t as fun as hanging out with Miguel. So she’d changed into her suit when she’d gotten back, opening up a portal to take her to HQ. An unexpected sight greeted her when she entered the control room, however - or an unexpected sound, rather. Miguel stood on the platform, bobbing his head in time with the music as he fiddled with a gadget, his smooth, deep voice mumbling along to the lyrics of one of her favourite songs.

“Miguel?” she called to him, trying not to laugh as she webbed up to stand beside him. “What are you doing?”

¡Coño! He dropped his tools, startled by her sudden arrival. He hadn’t even heard her walk in, so absorbed had he been in the song. But what was she even doing here anyway? She wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow. She looked up at him, lips stretched into a wide smile, her face lit up with amusement as she waited for his answer.

“Uh …” he began slowly, trying to come up with a response. He gritted his teeth, flashing her an embarrassed grimace as he muttered out of the side of his mouth. “Lyla! Turn it off!” Thankfully, she did as he said, turning off the music without arguing back - for once. He let out an awkward chuckle.

“Uh, what are you doing here, arañita?” he asked. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to make it today.” She continued grinning at him, a hint of shyness tinging the edges of her knowing expression.

“Well, I … I wanted to see you,” she confessed, breaking his gaze for a moment. Then she looked up at him again, her features rearranged into an expression of mischief this time. “I didn’t know you missed me.”

“Oh.” He broke her gaze, afraid to use that word specifically to describe how he’d been feeling without her there. “Uh, well, it was just a little quiet, that's all.” He turned back to his desk, fiddling with the gadget there as he figured out what to say.

“Hmm.” She nodded thoughtfully and took a step closer to him, trying to tamp the happiness starting to bubble up in her chest. Had he really missed her? Just like the others had said? Just like she'd missed him? She kept her gaze fixed on his hands as she leaned into him, her eyes tracking the movements of his long fingers as he twisted and fidgeted with the gadget. “I missed you too, Miguel.”

He froze again, unsure if he’d heard right. He glanced over at her and found her gaze trained on the ground as she smiled and shifted on the spot shyly. His stomach flipped at the sight and he dragged his eyes away from her, tapping on the table nervously as he digested her response. She’d missed him - she’d missed him even though she’d only seen him yesterday. How much had she missed him then, that week she’d been away? As much as he’d missed her? He shook his head at the sudden thought, not wanting to admit how he felt about her - not even to himself. He bit his lip, thinking. Then he cleared his throat and returned his attention to the computer, pulling up the dataset he’d been having trouble with earlier.

“Uh, I … I was having some trouble analysing this data, arañita,” he informed her, turning to face her without meeting her gaze. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Could you take a look at it?”

Of course he’d never use the word ‘help’ - probably an oldest sibling thing, considering how she still struggled to ask for help too, sometimes. She grinned, delighted by how well she was beginning to know him, how soft and easy everything was with him. She clasped her hands behind her back and turned her attention to the screen, trying to keep her heart beat steady as she studied the data in front of her.

“Okay, yeah, this is … not right,” she told him, lips still curled into an amused smile. He raised an eyebrow, confused.

“What do you mean?” She stretched onto her toes and pointed at a set of numbers that didn’t seem to fit with the rest.

“These numbers make no sense at all,” she informed him, lowering herself back down again. “I don’t know if you accidentally typed in the wrong numbers or something, but … this ain’t right, boss.” It was the way she always said it, that playful smile on her face, that teasing tone of her voice. Dios, it drove him mad. He tucked his hands under his arms, his muscles clenching as his stomach gave another flip.

“Vale, I’ll … I’ll go back and check the raw data,” he acquiesced, waving her away, needing her to leave so that he could work on getting his emotions back under his control again. “You should go home, arañita: it’s getting late.”

He was so cute, the way he kept rubbing the back of his neck or clearing his throat or pulling his gaze away from hers. Was he nervous? Around her? Now she wished she had some of his super senses, so she could hear his heartbeat and be sure of it. She tugged her chair over and sank back into it, swivelling around as she looked up at the screen. “I’ll wait. We can go through the data together.”

She turned to him, smiling up at him in a way that made his heart stop beating in his chest. And he wondered what it would sound like, hearing the words ‘I love you’ fall from those lips, what they would taste like beneath his own, her body small and soft in his hands. Just like in the song. He tensed up, suddenly realising the direction his thoughts had been going in, and turned away from her quickly. He was being ridiculous. They were just … colleagues. Just two strangers thrown together by unfortunate circumstances. Just … His stomach curdled with each excuse, the words weighing heavily on his heart. Even he hated how they sounded in his mind. He slid his gaze over to her and she smiled at him again, waiting. But he couldn't let himself indulge in … whatever this was. They'd only get hurt and she might not have been able to see that, but he … he knew better. He gripped the edge of the table, considering his next words.

“Uh, actually,” he began slowly, trying to come up with a lie that would get her to leave. Not something that would hurt her though - he knew he wouldn't be able to stand the crestfallen expression on her face if he hurt her. If anyone hurt her. “I was just going to get someone else to take a look at it. You said you'd have a lot to do at work this week, so I already got someone else to cover all your stuff.” He waved her off in a way that he hoped was an adequate mix of dismissal and reassurance. Not so dismissive as to make her think she wasn't valuable, but not so reassuring as to convince her that she meant more to him than anyone else at HQ. It was perfect.

She pursed her lips, thinking. She could see how careful he was to control his instinct to push people away. He was still afraid to let her get too close - hence the dismissal - but a part of him seemed to have begrudgingly accepted that she wouldn't be pushed away so easily. He was trying, and that was all she'd asked for. So, she wouldn't push him. She stood up and took a step closer to him, her brain running through all the possible responses she could leave him with. And then, she found it.

“Great,” she replied unexpectedly, sidling up to him. “That means I get to spend more time with you.” She flashed him a cheeky smile, then opened up a portal to take her home, not giving him the chance to respond. Not that he would have had a response anyway: what could he say, after all, when she'd told him she'd missed him? When she'd said she liked spending time with him, just the two of them alone together? When he'd started to like it too? He sank back into his seat, clutching at his hair in frustration as he sighed loudly. Por Dios, she was going to be the death of him one day.

Tags: @leahnicole1219

[gaoau]

Love Spell

Wicked Witch warnings — none. word count — 3.9k

prev.

"Wanna go to Sendai, help me manage an Onigiri Miya booth there?" Osamu asked out of the blue one night during dinner. [Name]'s rice dropped from her chopsticks when she froze at the question. Sparkles seemed to radiate off him as she found his gaze. He stared into her with bright eyes and a common simper, practically forcing her to accept the invitation since he expected so much from her.

She cleared her throat and swallowed a gulp of water. With every passing day, her ability to refuse anything that came from him—from simple, spontaneous offers to grab a coffee even if she was on a time crunch, to those damned love discounts that rose to fifty percent off—grew weaker and almost unavailable. "I—" a sigh, "—Fine." She simply couldn't bring herself to reject him anymore.

He pumped his fist in celebration, prompting her to roll her eyes at the childlike side of his personality rearing its head. Admittedly cute, undeniably adorable, and when he coupled it with a chuckle, it became too much to handle. She couldn't go as far as to call it the experience of falling in love, but she was definitely falling into every one of his traps.

It was their first ever train ride together. Osamu guessed correctly when giving up the window seat for her. His earphones fit perfectly in her ears while she whispered praises to his taste in music—most of which he had built upon her recommendations. He lent his shoulder when she dozed off and fixed her neck so it wouldn't become sore by the time she woke up. Once in Sendai, she gratefully grinned at him for preparing snacks in advance as her stomach growled to complain about its emptiness. [Name] found he was a wonderful travel partner, although those were nothing more than words.

As she molded onigiris with her palms, her regular humming intensified into nonsensical lyrics and then morphed into high notes that echoed through the kitchen. Osamu gazed in awe and adoration while she manipulated her voice with years of experience on her back. Her singing trembled in a fit of laughter when he spontaneously joined in despite never having sung in his life aside from karaoke nights. He followed her from her head voice all the way up to her falsettos, trying to imitate how easily she belted without struggling.

His own voice cracked and his lips clamped shut, cheeks burning in mild embarrassment. [Name] cut off her singing solely to cackle loudly at him. Osamu cast his eyes away from her, mumbling, "S'hurtin' my throat."

She chuckled once more as she fixed his posture with cold, humid fingers. "Your voice isn't really warmed up, you know? You shouldn't try to belt like that."

"Ya make it seem so easy."

"Try lower." Her pitch dropped considerably to guide him by the hand through his singing attempts. He followed her once more, but still failed miserably. [Name] muffled her chortles with her palm. "Well, at least you can cook."

"Oh, wow, encouragement, thanks."

He chucked a few grains of rice at her face, one of which bounced off her eye. Impaired, she retaliated by flicking water at him as he shielded himself with his arm. Moments like these, where time froze for everything outside the closed doors and they had full control over their existence. They could choose honesty and music and one another. His shoulders vibrated while he laughed, and [Name] hoped time would stop for her as well so she could assimilate her feelings for a second.

Osamu was a fantastic person she actually liked.

It happened one regular morning when [Name] was scrolling through her social media feed without an ounce of sleep. A picture of a plate of fluffy pancakes popped up and caused her stomach to grumble. Her brain immediately thought of Osamu. Before she could even process her own actions, she was already knocking on his door at seven o'clock in the morning.

When he opened up with his bedhead and hazy eyes, Atsumu's words swam through her ears again. Genuinity was something she had never struggled with. Her gaze unfocused for a brief moment as she processed the sight before her. Osamu yawned as he allowed her inside without a care, muttering, "Good mornin'."

She swatted Atsumu's voice out of her head while following after him. "What's your best pancake recipe?" Osamu halted and turned towards her, one of his brows raised. His hand reached underneath his shirt to scratch his back. [Name] smiled the softest of simpers. "I'm in the mood for pancakes." His eyes sparkled almost instantly upon hearing her words. It was the first time she could handle it without looking away.

He whipped up the batter in less than a song and she took care of the flipping with her trained wrists. Laughter and music and smiles and the way the early sunshine poured in through the window, glistening a thousand different shades of comfort and melted his eyes into honey. Charming domestic bliss that filled her heart with a softness she'd never experienced before. Was this what home felt like? Thinking of Osamu's face before anyone else's when anything happened, giggling to herself because she remembered Osamu's voice cracking a joke from six months before, groaning when she woke up alone because Osamu wouldn't drop by until the following day.

Osamu, Osamu, Osamu, Osamu. Everything was Osamu. Osamu this, Osamu that.

She admired the fluffiness of his pancakes, prodding them with her fork to make them jiggle. From the outside, her intense glare communicated she absolutely loathed those pancakes. From Osamu's eyes, she was floating aimlessly in an ocean of her thoughts. "What are'ya thinkin' of?" He stole a bite from her plate to drag her out of the waters before the waves drowned her into its depths.

[Name] met his adoring gaze. How safe you make me feel, echoed in her head, dripping in hypocrisy. She reclaimed the bite he'd stolen. "How great these pancakes are. I'll be stealing this recipe. Needs a bit of cinnamon, though." Another bite, another taste of home, another hint of forever.

"I'll tweak it for ya."

For her. All the things he did, he did for her. The efforts he poured into their relationship, the daily calls to wake her up, the breakfasts he had no need to make every time he stayed over yet still he did. His love originated from genuinity; he loved her so much. He thought of her and she thought of him. What else did she need? What else did she want? What more could she hope for when she knew Osamu would give her all?

Honesty was something she had never struggled with. What are'ya thinkin' of? Her eyes zeroed in on him with a drive of steel. "Hey, guess what."

"What?"

She clicked her tongue quietly as she watched him inspect a piece of pancake he'd sliced. Of course he was. "'Samu," she called again, voice pristine and demanding attention.

Osamu froze immediately, his breath hitching in his throat in sheer stupefaction. His pupils shifted from his fork to her intense glare. There was absolutely no way she had just called him 'Samu. "Is it… cold?"

"No, I'm—" [Name] puffed out a chuckle, "'Samu, Osamu, Miya, whatever you want me to call you." Her eyes stabbed right into his as she clearly pronounced her declaration, "I love you."

Osamu couldn't tell if his heart had stopped beating or if it had picked up so much speed he simply didn't feel it anymore inside of his chest. For all he knew, his blood had ceased its course and his lungs had collapsed onto themselves. He had died and was merely rejoicing in a mirage of his paradise before the afterlife claimed him. Had it not been for the rush of warmth rising to his cheeks, spreading a red-tinted blush he hadn't worn since high-school, he would have accepted death.

[Name] pursed her lips, still holding his stare as he processed the sound of her voice. His silence pierced into her ears and pressed down on her shoulders and snaked around her throat to strangle her and she wondered if he had suffered this same pressure when he confessed. He didn't speak, didn't blink, didn't breathe, didn't move.

"Say something."

He shook out of his stupor with jolting shoulders. "Hold on, 'm thinkin'."

"Ah—About?"

"Kissin' ya."

"What?"

"Can I?"

"Can—What?"

She had little to no time to react as Osamu sprang from his seat and leaned across the table, knocking his—fortunately empty—mug over in the process. His palms, warm and careful, cradled the sides of her face, tilting her head upwards so he could place his lips upon hers. Short and quick and fleeting, but despite time not freezing or fireworks not setting off, he could at last bask in the accomplishment of his life finally being completed. Even if they had been wolfing down sugary pancakes soaked in whipped cream, the only flavor he could taste was the bitterness of her coffee coating her lips.

When he pulled away a second later, he was breathless and overflowing with mirth. [Name] blinked up at the excited grin digging the corners of his mouth into his burning cheeks. Still relishing in the natural warmth of his touch on her face, all she could manage was a simple, "Oh."

"Thank you."

"Oh. You're—You're welcome. You're very, very welcome." She rose from her chair to round the table, her cold fingers reaching behind his neck and settling on his nape, shooting shivers down his spine at the contact. With a tug of her hand, she pulled Osamu closer to properly kiss him like she didn't know she'd been waiting. There was not much Osamu could do against the deadly vines of enchanting magic [Name] trapped him with; there was not much he wanted to do anyway. He gave up control and allowed her to squeeze the rationality out of him with just one kiss. The pancakes and her coffee and the world of lying pains vanished into the calloused coldness of her fingertips on his skin.

"Never met anyone less romantic than you two," Ginjima exhales as he massages his temples.

[Name] gasps for dramatic effect. She clings onto her husband to protect him from their friend's insensitive observation. "Excuse you, Gin. Don't listen to him, 'Samu."

"He's right," Suna pipes in with his trademark deadpan, "he confessed to you under a lamp post, you confessed to him while eating pancakes."

Osamu cackles, "Wait 'til ya hear the marriage proposal."

A few months after establishing a shift in their relationship, working out its kinks and quirks on the down low, Osamu decided he was more than ready to inform his friends and family about his change in status. While [Name] finished coating the popcorn in homemade caramel, he flicked through the channels in his mind to bring it up to her. He finally settled for the most casual way he could think of, "We've been datin' fer a while."

[Name] replied with pondering silence. She attempted calculations in her head, but the passage of time seemed an unreal concept at this point. "Yeah, we have."

Osamu hummed. "We should tell people."

[Name] replied with panicking silence. When he looked over to make sure he hadn't accidentally thrown her into cardiac arrest, his body traveled back to the night he had confessed to her. The expression on her face replicated the same one she'd painted on herself underneath that lamp post. Part of him was relieved she was a musician and wore her nails short as she dug them into her palms.

She inhaled deeply before stabbing him with her eyes. "Okay. Dinner with your brother."

His gaze flickered around the room to avoid her intensity burning into him. "I was… thinkin' 'bout my parents."

"Ya tryna murder me?"

"They'll love ya!"

"…Okay…"

She agreed in a fit of confused fear, but in retrospect, her brain could only relate parents to pain. Stepping out of the plane to breathe in the pure air of her home prefecture, Osamu witnessed the instant regret shadowing her eyes. With a playful shove to her shoulder, he reminded her she was safe by his side and set her back on track.

Meeting Osamu's parents was possibly one of the best decisions of her life. She became comfortable in their presence much faster than she'd grown to accept Osamu. His father was lovely, but his mother, a wonderful woman that welcomed her with open arms and the warmest of smiles she'd ever seen on any human alive. Tears gathered in her eyes as she melted into Mrs. Miya's arms when she found peace in the embrace of motherly love she didn't know she'd longed for.

[Name] loved it, truly. She loved the family, she loved the home, she loved the feelings. She loved Osamu and she wanted to be a part of it all.

It was when Atsumu arrived later in the day, she remembered he was also part of the family. He walked into his house, tired out of his mind, rehearsing the pleasantries he would offer to Osamu's girlfriend once he met her. He had prayed his brother had finally let the Wicked Witch go once and for all. Setting his sights upon [Name] as soon as he entered, made him drop his bag with an ear-splitting thud. [Name] hid herself behind her glass of water, downing gulp after gulp in hopes of Osamu doing all the awkward talking with his brother.

"No."

"Yeah."

"No, this ain't happenin'."

Osamu limited himself to sneering at his twin with a taunting grin while wrapping an arm around his girlfriend to pull her closer. He planted a chaste kiss on her cheek. "We're datin'."

"Ya sure are… Congrats…!" he pushed out his practice through gritted teeth. Osamu gave [Name] a quick peck once more before heading into the kitchen to help out with dinner. Atsumu glared the sharpest of daggers into [Name] while she resumed her panicked drinking. "Ya hurt him with that pissy Wicked Witch attitude of yers an' my connections'll remove ya from the face of the Earth."

She swallowed her water to give her brain time to process his threat. Instead of retaliating, she set her glass down onto the table. "I wouldn't dare." Her resolve glimmered in the color of her irises.

"I'm countin' on ya."

"Rest assured."

He knocked his fist on her shoulder to settle a truce between them until the end of time. [Name] rolled her eyes and linked their hands in a handshake. Atsumu flashed his iconic smirk and flung his arm across her shoulders. "Well, c'mon, my cute lil' sis, make yerself at home!" his voice rose both in volume and pitch while dragging her with him to the rest of his—their—family.

She forced a strained giggle from between her teeth. "Don't push it, 'Tsumu."

"Don't call me that."

"Good, we're even."

Boxes upon boxes filled with new opportunities that their shared future was meant to bring. It was a home for themselves. A place where comfort was far more than guaranteed, where [Name] could wake up to breakfasts made with love and doze off to his warmth, where Osamu could bask in her presence and feed into every last one of her enchantments.

Blowing out a sigh, she stepped back to gaze at the shelf she'd just finished setting up and decorating with their high-school accomplishments. Osamu slipped a mug filled with coffee into her hands, reminding her to mix it so the pepper spread evenly. "That looks sturdy, darlin'."

"I sure hope so."

The first chortles in a series of endless ones flowed into their home to fill the rooms up with joy and harmony. Osamu turned their bodies towards the mirror she'd set up by the door earlier in the day. The light above their heads shone on the faded scar crossing [Name]'s brow. He kissed the spot, then kissed the taste of spicy bitterness off her lips.

Onigiri Miya had closed for the night as Atsumu whined to his brother about one of his teammates. [Name] clutched the tiny box hidden in her pocket as she contemplated whether she wanted to go through with her impulses while Atsumu served as audience. She'd come this far, she wasn't going to back down because of some idiot with a swelling ego.

"'Samu."

"Oh, hi, love."

"Atsumu."

"Yeah, hey, whatever."

She settled down on one of the empty stools beside Atsumu, kicking his ankle with her heel to make him sit up properly. The snarl he wanted to smack her with disappeared down his throat when he saw her clenching fists on the counter. Her face portrayed her as a composed woman, collected with flat lips and narrowed eyes. Osamu almost radiated sparkles as he smiled to himself while setting two of her favorite onigiri flavors for her.

Her accent slipped when she asked, "D'ya wanna get married?"

Both twins blinked only once as their eyes enlarged into stupefied stares to bore a hole on her face. Like mirror images, they froze and halted their breathing in sync. Atsumu's onigiri, jaw, and heart dropped all at the exact same time. Osamu's stomach filled with billions of butterflies fluttering in excitement and his heart skipped a beat, struggling to breathe underneath all the squeezing she did with just one glimpse of her.

[Name] grumbled to herself at the lack of response. Her hand shot into her pocket and she pulled out the small, velvety box, flicking it open with her thumb. Osamu beamed at the two identical steel rings, simple but classy. "I don't do jewelry, but I wanna get married. Whaddaya say?"

"Of course, let's get married." He chose the ring that he knew with one glance would perfectly fit her finger. He leaned over the counter as his heart beat out of his chest at the prospect of becoming even closer to [Name]. Every kiss became sweeter in the sea of bitterness that was her lips, because the way she charmed him with one single touch had him crawling back for more.

This information is mostly new for everyone at the table. From Osamu's friends and family to [Name]'s sole cousin, the only one aside from the newlyweds aware of this proposal is Atsumu—who muttered Right in front of my onigiri as his brother sucked face with his girlfriend.

Ginjima stares flabbergasted at the couple. "Really? Just like that?"

"Imagine my surprise when this crazy bitch walked in an' proposed to my brother."

And imagining is all they can do, considering that the only evidence of [Name]'s proposal ever actually happening exists merely in the form of security camera tapes. She cackles at their faces, giving a nonchalant shrug. "Yeah, that was about a month ago."

"Now, last but not least—for now—" Osamu calls for the attention to return to him. His arm is tightly wrapped around his wife as she rests her head on his shoulder. His words make a promise for a never-ending future filled with more anecdotes for another dinner table. "I never talked 'bout this, 'cause it just happened, but the story continues like this."

Arrangements didn't take long, mostly because [Name] refused with every cell in her body to abide by traditional rules and make a show out of her wedding. The guest list was quite limited to close friends and Osamu's family—aside from [Name]'s cousin—which in turn allowed for the chosen venue to be relatively small. Osamu covered the catering, his mother covered the simple yet fitting dress, and Atsumu had more fun than he cared to admit while covering the decoration.

Watching her walk down the aisle by his father's arm had Osamu's breath vanishing into his throat. It might have been the atmosphere or the rush of emotions or the mere fact that he loved [Name] with every last inch of his body and mind and existence. He wondered if pronouncing their vows would bind his soul to her for all eternity and beyond, allowing her to do with it as she pleased, like she had done even before holding complete control over him. He didn't care anyway.

He gazed right into the glimmer of her eyes as he announced to the audience and the wind and the world just how much he adored his soon-to-be wife. "I do," he spoke, a voice so pristine and confident because he had no doubt about his feelings.

Hearing her answer back, "I do," sealed the deal for him forever. He knew right then and there that his bet with Atsumu was already won, his life was set, his life couldn't get any better. Her lips tasted as bitter as her personality had been ever since he first heard her sing more than a decade before. They moulded with frightening perfection to his. They stole from him the air in his lungs and the love in his heart. Osamu relinquished his everything to [Name] without hesitation.

Both [Name] and Osamu wear realized simpers as they wrap up the tale of their relationship. From a lovesick crush on her voice, to the intentions behind his friendship, to their respective confessions coming in to slap one another across the face. They've come a long way and they still have a long way to go.

Osamu kisses her brow, and her nose, and her cheekbone, her cheek, her jaw, the bitterness of her lips that he's yet to find out whether it's the wine or [Name] herself. She leans back into her chair, putting up a weak fight to pretend the PDA gets on her nerves. He refuses to cease his barricade of drunk kisses until she bites him. A small peck is all it takes to prevent his pout from forming.

Her fingers snake around his and hold him tightly to never let go. With her free hand, she raises her glass into the air. "Cheers, because now here we are, married to my best and only friend." She downs the last bits of wine that managed to survive through their endless history. "Moral of the story, persevere and you'll succeed."

"Love ya, [Name]." Red-cheeked, his head falls onto her shoulder and buries in her neck. He knows he'll never grow sick of the scent of her skin.

"I know. I don't understand, but I know."

"Don't understand either. Ya might actually be a witch fer all I know."

[Name] can only chuckle, "Love ya, 'Samu." She plants a gentle kiss atop his hair and his heart still skips a beat after years of holding her close. He will forever be wrapped in deadly vines that squeeze the love out of him; all for her, all to fuel her, to enrich her, to feed into her so she carries on. Osamu wouldn't have it any other way.

—あごす (agosu) • 2021

[kinfriday]

The Irregular Ascetic

In August, I briefly made a new friend on Tumblr.

His account has long since vanished for reasons I do not know. Maybe this place just didn't click for him. I've been here for years and always found it welcoming, but I know that, like everything, this site is not for everyone.

He'd send me a message, ask a question or two, and when I checked every week or so, I'd do my best to reply.

Then, one day, he was gone, but not before leaving me one last question:

"An ascetic heathen life? What does that look like to you? I want to see that visual."

And that's kind of the question, isn't it?

The thing about callings is that they aren't always clear-cut. I may feel drawn towards an ascetic heathen life, but it's not like my Gods sent me an Ikea flat-pack kit.

As seems to be the pattern with the Germanic deities, they tapped me on the shoulder and then said...

"Here ya go, figure it out."

And here we are. Forty-Two, with over ten years as a member of the Ár nDraíocht Féin (ADF), I haven't finished my dedicant path, nor started the clergy track.

I can't remember the last time I did a full ritual.

All in all, I seem like a pretty crappy monk, don't I?

Sister Snow Hare, indeed...

It seems that my vanishing friend pinned me to the wall. I've been chewing on this again, trying to work it out.

If you're reading this, buddy, know that you kicked off a lot of introspection about my path, and you inspired this long rambling Tumblr post.

The best place to start is the beginning. (A little free wisdom)

So, what exactly is monasticism?

Good ol’ Mr. Wikipedia defines it as "a religious way of life in which one renounces worldly pursuits to devote oneself fully to spiritual work."

No matter the faith, this is a feature of monastic life: asceticism, self-denial, and focus.

Have I mentioned I can't remember the last time I did a ritual yet?

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

Nothing makes me feel guilty, like comparing myself to the standards and practices of others. Somewhere out there, a Buddhist is living on four grains of rice, meditating eighteen hours a day, stopping only to sleep. The five minutes a day he spends on Tumblr, he's laughing at me.

I just know it. >.>

You could say I've been feeling a little convicted about this.

Yet the calling is still there. My relationship with my Gods isn't just good; it's warm. While not formal or official, I have a fulfilling spiritual life that's not structured like anything in the faith org I faithfully send my twenty dollars a year to and then largely hide from.

So what's going on?

I've begun to realize slowly over the last year that my faith path will probably never be recognizable as anything routine, rote, or by the book, but what it will be is mine.

Where does my asceticism show?

Let me take you through a typical day.

Waking at 2300 (11 pm), I plank for three minutes, do about ten minutes of calisthenics, wash my face, and then meditate for twenty minutes to a half hour, offering that time to the Gods. Then, with that done, I recite my creed and head off to the gym.

I have a creed. I'm that fancy!

While I'm in the truck, I informally pray. Often, I'm talking to my Lady Eostre, but the other Gods definitely get included. Woden and I have always gotten along, and Thunor, I call big brother because he's always watching out for us and protecting us.

Now it's time for my hour minimum at the gym. Half an hour each of cardio and weight training. This is so I can be in good condition and proper shape.

Good health is important to me, but more on that in a moment.

When I get home, I clean for about an hour, something I call "service meditation." Scrubbing floors, cleaning counters, and sanitizing bathrooms is a gift I can give daily to my loved ones with whom I make a home. While I work, I reflect on them and consider all they give me.

After a much-needed shower, I'm in the office and might finally have breakfast. I eat, ascetically, often the same thing every day; I keep my calories low and usually take up a 16-hour fast between my last meal and first meal.

Everything gets weighed down to the gram and tracked on my calorie sheet.

Next comes editing, writing, often some informal online counseling, or time spent on networks like Counter Social, Telegram, and Discord trying to help people, even if it's only getting them to smile.

Hope is big for me because my Lady Eostre is the goddess of Spring and the Dawn. She is hope personified, a goddess of fresh chances and potential. Pointing back to her and her values is my purpose. It's what I was made for.

My day continues like that until I'm in bed at 1600 (4 PM), after an hour cool-down where I go through my creed and have one last conversation with the Gods. That's when I set out my fruit offerings if I happened to have any that day.

It's a hard and fast rule. The gods always get the best part of the banana and the strawberry.

This is the way.

My bed is a mat that rolls out on the floor. I started that in 2020, and I've never been happier or slept better, and when I travel, it comes with me.

And I travel a lot.

My family here calls it "missions." Every now and again, someone in my network will need help. They might be having surgery, a mental health crisis, or are moving cross town or cross country. Whatever the reason, the call goes out, and if I can make it work with money, I'll hop a plane, train, or bus and get out there.

Beyond the joy I get from being in shape and capable, this is why I work out. It's much easier to load and move boxes or help lift people when you're in decent physical condition. 

I actually have training as a CNA, so I know how to do all the transfer stuff, and I have decent experience in post-surgical care.  

I don't want to go into this part too much because it feels like bragging, but I've been all over the States and soon to be Canada just helping people. I ramble in, do what I can, then return home and take back up my discarded routine.

And this is my life, apart from writing my books. As I looked at it and began breaking it down, I realized that I am already living a disciplined ascetic life.  

My gods and my faith are at the forefront of what I do, but what defines my faith isn't the regular application of ritual, but action. Indeed, one of the sayings I live by is actions show what words claim.

So I'm not on a mountaintop, meditating with the sun's rising and setting, or dwelling within a monastery, cloistered from the world, living to sing hymns. There is beauty in that kind of asceticism, but it's not my asceticism.

Yet, we do have things in common.

My life is one of service, with a focus on the divine and the advancement of their aims for the world. It is my hope (there's that word again) that I can show the wisdom and cunning of Woden, the strength of Thunor, the honor of Tyr, and most of all, embody the hope of the Dawn in all I do.

Of course, I'm not perfect, and Saturdays are often waffle day, but life is about growth, not static metrics.

It's dawning on me that I may never be fully recognized in my path. I don't seem to jive well with organizations and dogmatic structures. I may never have Reverend by my name or "Sister" formally. When it's time to go, I may not even leave much behind save my books and these Tumblr posts.

When I do cross that far horizon, and I am again before my Lady, I hope she will look back on all I did during this strange human odyssey and see that while I may have been taken from her for a time, I never stopped being her devoted one, her servant, and that is all the formal recognition I will ever need.

For me, an ascetic heathen life is one of actions, denial, and service, which I seek to live every day.

[tjalexandernyc]

so I am currently in a real state over this next book, real crunch time stuff. My wife, whom I love, has offered to "help around the house" doing all the chores I normally would do. Like cooking dinner. "I want to take some of the stress off you," said my wife. Whom I love.

Anyway I just emerged from working like 12 hours straight to my wife nervously standing in the kitchen saying, "OK now don't be mad......." I was sure she had somehow broken our new rice cooker (which I love. Not as much as I love my wife but....it's a REALLY nice rice cooker) so I was trying to gird myself for that when she picked up the airtight container I keep our rice in and said, "I think we have rice weevils."

Me: what

Her: Weevils. In the rice. I saw them.

Me: Okay....?

Her: So I went ahead and started cooking the rice for dinner--

Me: Wait why? If there's bugs in the rice why would you cook it?

Her: Because you said to make rice for dinner.

Me: But the bugs???

Her: Yes, I also thought that would be an issue. Which is why I'm telling you about it now.

Me: I don't--what am I supposed to do about the bug rice?

Her: You might know more about the rice than me. Maybe the bugs aren't so bad. Maybe we can still eat the rice. But if you--

Me: You thought we could EAT the BUG RICE?

Her (getting a lil snippy I gotta say): I wasn't SURE. But if you said no, we shouldn't, then I could dump out the rice in the rice cooker and go buy fresh rice. But I didn't want to disturb you so I waited for you to come out here to ask. And in the meantime, at least rice is cooking in case the bugs are not a big deal.

Me (absolutely convinced I've died at my desk and this is all a weird dream at this point): Okay. We can't eat bug rice. But--you're sure there were bugs? That container is airtight.

Her: Yeah, look!

We both then proceed to spend about 15 minutes staring into the clear plastic rice container, turning it every so often like those sand object-finder toys kids sometimes play with. There's nothing in there but rice. Once in awhile my wife gasps and points at something that "definitely moved" but it's just rice. We end up dumping all the rice out onto sheet pans so we can stare at every individual grain. No bugs. Just rice.

My wife (whom I LOVE): wow...............guess I need to stop staring at that subreddit about bugs

Me, wrist deep in rice that I'm now trying to shovel back into a container: what

Her: I've told you about the What Bug Is This reddit. The one where it's always either a weevil or a spotted lanternfly? (laughing to herself) Yeah I was looking at it a lot today. Right before I went to cook the rice actually.

Me:

so that's the story of how dinner's going.

[augment-techs]

Roger Ebert Reviews as Writing Prompts (part ii)

Don't quote me on this, but I think there's a sneaky cross-reference here to Lord of the Flies

"Isn't this a little violent for some of the kids in the audience?"

Nature is the least sentimental of creations.

A visually sumptuous slice of macabre storytelling

From an amazing scene with rats under a subway train to speeding traffic.

A relatively traditional love story in which the guy is much creepier than he probably thinks.

There’s a lot of slapping.

There is a reason it’s a tried and true underdog formula, and it mostly works here.

Whose inner diva is buried under her domestic drudgery.

Painting two sparrows on a grain of rice.

The Summer of 1814, we hear hard rock guitar riffs on the soundtrack.

They leave in the middle of the night with a pair of valuable earrings.

The belladonna is a relative of the tomato; its berries and leaves are highly toxic.

Breathtaking, erotic, grotesque, and transgressive.

Likable and perfectly straightforward college students who do nothing very extraordinary and are in a platonic romance.

With friends she/he throws out junk, scrubs the floors, dusts and arranges.

The dream has to come first. The reality will then follow.

They make their vehicles out of wood, not metal.

Swooping and colorful, like big fanciful paper birds, or benevolent bright dragons, harmless and buoyant.

How to break in to the storeroom of a nearby candy store.

Six fairy tales here; none too long to outstay its welcome, all told with a pleasing energy.

Ventures into a cave and unknowingly tumbles down into the land of the dead.

Bowing from the waist, pipe in mouth, often wearing a trench coat.

A young one who idealizes him/her, moves in with him/her, tends to him/her, cooks and cleans, and would probably offer sex if he/she didn’t abstemiously sleep on the couch.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a hero requires a villain.

There comes a time when people need to simply talk to one another, to coexist as companions.

A certain awareness that there are a lot more things on heaven and Earth than have been dreamed of by the Brothers Grimm.

"Is this story going to have a lot of kissing in it?"

Later, in case there's the slightest shred of doubt about what happened, we see chicken bones.

Shrugs as if warding off blows that it hasn't occurred to anyone to deliver yet.

Too frightened to jump in the water with the other local kids.

Even a simple trip to a nearby well for water, as we see, is fraught with danger.

They take pleasure in the stars, the trees, the bright red apples, the feel of rushing cold water against their naked skin.

“Ordinary is the best of all.”

Beaten as a child, and locked in a closet with rats.

"Came out of the dark, as if they were made of it."

How did they come to be so uninhibited, in a Puritan society, that they could dance naked together?

They'll make eggs. We see the them eating on a Formica table in the kitchen; steps lead down to the back door.

Working furiously at every household task, chopping, stirring and knitting as fast as possible.

Blindfolded and barefoot, tries to run away in the snow.

Killers shack up in a motel room with two hookers.

"Truth, beauty, freedom and love."

Those who think they can buy affection are suckers; a wise man is content to rent it.

Who embodies longing with their eyes and sighs.

That's where they make their mistake.

"It didn't happen like that in our history, but it should have."

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

[deleted scene: Cao Cao visits Dong Zhuo for the first time]

The Prime Minister had not asked him to sit, so Cao Cao remained standing. He had been summoned to Dong Zhuo’s house on very short notice and was still wearing the courtly regalia, having just left a cabinet meeting. The ambiguity of the situation worried him. 

Dong Zhuo’s bodyguard offered no clues either; the big man just stared resolutely ahead, looking very much like a statue except for the fact that he occasionally blinked.  Cao Cao quickly cast his mind back to the last few weeks. He had made sure to throw his support behind the usurper early on, both to guarantee his own safety and to get closer to the enemy. While his conduct had been irreproachable thus far, it was not particularly noteworthy. 

Dong Zhuo poured himself a steaming hot cup of wine, and Cao Cao felt his mouth water a little. It had been a long day. He wanted to go home, take off his uncomfortable hat and maybe visit a brothel before resigning himself to an equally long night of drafting bills and reading reports. God, he hadn’t seen the surface of his writing desk since autumn. There was more bamboo in his house than in the Yibin  Forest. The next person to utter the words “I move to veto—” was going to be bludgeoned to death with their own tablet . 

Dong Zhuo finished his drink and swept his hand over a pile of discarded reports lying on the table, “Come here, Minister Cao. I would like to hear your opinion on a small matter.” 

“I’ll be honored to, Your Excellency,” a small matter could have been anything from famine, riots, or potholes in the main road—and they all stood the same chance of being fixed; none. 

Cao Cao quickly skimmed the memo on the table, upside down. Untimely cold weather. Another projected grain shortage. “Your Excellency, it’s very likely the harvests will fail again this year. We must start importing rice from the South to make up for the difference. If we act quickly, we may avoid a disaster.” 

Dong Zhuo pinched the bridge of his nose, “what will this cost?” 

“At least eight-hundred catties of gold, Your Excellency.” Cao Cao purposefully said the highest number first. 

“A steep price.”

“It is cheaper than suppressing a riot, Your Excellency.”

 “That’s why I have soldiers!” Dong Zhuo snapped, his mood suddenly sour. “Why the hell should I fork over all that gold? Good, sharp steel will do the job just fine!”

Because we’re sitting on a gigantic tinder pile, and just one spark will set it ablaze. 

“I might have a solution,” Cao Cao said pleasantly, “if His Excellency permits it, I will personally write a letter on your behalf. With the Prime Minister’s authority, we can pay five-hundred gold upfront and ask for the rest on loan. We can either repay it next year with our wheat or use this time to devise a better plan.” 

Take it. Take it, you greedy, short-sighted fool. We can’t eat gold. 

“Fine. I permit it.” 

“His Excellency is most wise.” 

“I expect to see a bill drafted by tonight, Minister.”  

Cao Cao frowned; he was all too familiar with human nature. “No, Excellency, this information cannot be circulated in court. We must suppress the news and keep the prices as low as possible. If the noble families discover an impending shortage, they’ll start panic-buying out of fear or start hoarding grain in the hopes of making a profit. What food we have will be used up twice as fast, perhaps before the first shipment of rice arrives.” 

Cao Cao stopped himself there, suddenly aware that he’d been dangerously close to lecturing the Prime Minister. Dong Zhuo said nothing for a moment. He picked up the bronze pitcher of wine and poured two fresh cups. 

“You have a singular mind, Cao Mengde,” said Dong Zhuo. Cao Cao was surprised to hear his courtesy name instead of his official title. He looked up and found the Prime Minister holding out the second cup of wine, a gleam in his eye, “drink.”

Notes under the cut:

Ended up cutting this for Plot Reasons, but I thought it would be an interesting side bar. Dong Zhuo is more intimidating and Cao Cao has not had as much practise being manipulative and unctuous.

Dong Zhuo: Mengde you're an incredibly ruthless, self-serving man with a negative outlook on humanity. All the qualities I like! Lets be bffs henceforth!

Yibin forrest: Books and reports were written on bamboo slats

Tablet: Ministers took notes on tablets 笏 hù, bamboo for lesser ministers, ivory for noblemen. After the proliferation of paper in the Jin Dynasty they became largely ceremonial. 

Food shortage: This isn’t based in any kind of real policy, but we recently had an egg shortage that was exacerbated by panic-buying. It's unethical, but I often wonder what would happen if these shortages weren’t announced, would the result be better? I thought it would fit Cao Cao's personality, he is very decisive and has a skeptical view of people.

The 3k period coincided with a period of cold weather (micro climate change) which caused famines exacerbated by corruption and poor management. IDK how wheat vs rice would actually be affected but im assuming the colder, northern areas would take a bigger hit.

I don't know how money works in this time period. if anyone has a good resource pls dm me.

[regulationbluebunny]

FFXIV write 2023: Suit

Summary: Aymeric fishes for information about Estinien's love life.

Gen/ no cws

"The people have been generous with their donations," Aymeric noted.

A box spilled over with folded linens in all manner of bright colors. It was stacked atop a wooden chest that contained more of the same. The donations were so numerous to spill in almost out of the doorway: dried fruits in tins, picked eggs, sacks of rice, and grain were piled atop each other in crates. Estinien stitched a bright green patch into a vest clearly meant for a toddler as Aymeric sifted through the fabrics.

"They have," he agreed. "More than necessary, really. We don't have that many to feed."

"I'm sure it can be shared back with the community if you find yourself with excess," Aymeric pointed out.

"Aye. We're working on that. Vytra is trying to find someone to manage that sort of thing."

"I'm surprised he didn't ask you."

"Oh, he did," Estinien admitted, "I'm not suited for that kind of work."

"I can't see you managing an inventory," Aymeric laughed. "You are very good with the children, though."

Estinien just grunted in response.

"I might suggest a similar infrastructure for Ishgard," he continued. "There are plenty of war orphans even now. I doubt the people would be quite as generous, however."

"Bloody nobility's purses are clipped tighter than a--" his comparison trailed off as an auri child skipped tgrough the room with her little brother. "Than a, um. No. You're better off making it a tax."

"And that would be taken with such understanding," Aymeric said dryly.

"Don't bother with their understanding. You've got the loyalty of everyone that matters. Use it."

Aymeric hummed. "The repercussions of heavy handed policy might come back to bite me, but my options are becoming limited, I fear."

"When are you going back?"

"I'm uncertain. She takes first priority, as you understand. Artoirel and Lucia can handle things in my absence."

Estinien nodded. She took first priority for both of them. Ishgard could hold itself together without their Lord Speaker constantly at their beck and call. Letters would serve just fine.

"And you?" Aymeric continued, running a hand along the seam of an orange skirt to check the hem line.

"What? "

"After the Warrior recovers. What will you do?"

"I don't know. There's little point in me being anywhere else. I'll stay as long as they need me, I suppose."

Aymeric nodded. He glanced up at Estinien with a shrewd look in his blue eyes.

"They?"

Estinien pursed his lips. Aymeric was fishing for something. He didn't know what it was, but he didn't like it.

"Vrtra has me training the Radiant Host," he said. "There's more green soldiers than anything else after the losses they took during the Final Days."

"I'm surprised the Scions haven't put you back to work."

Estinien snorted. "The Scions can make do without me."

"You could train the Ishgardian troops as well if you find yourself short on employment," Aymeric said, and Estinien knew he wasn't actually offering, thank the gods. No, he was trying to bait Estinien into admitting that he preferred Rads at Han.

"I'd rather not," he growled.

"Of course," his friend said genially. "Priorities. I understand."

Estinien stared blankly. It felt like he was losing a game he didn't know he was playing.

"What the hell are you getting at?" He asked

His face had taken on some color. Aymeric was insinuating something and he didn't know what it was.

Aymeric shrugged. "The children, of course," he said, as if he hadn't just mentioned an equal number of wayward orphans in Ishgard. "I intend no judgement. The environment here rather suits you. Vrtra is lucky to have you at his side."

"You aren't subtle," Estinien said. "What are you hoping to unearth with this kind of talk?"

The other man raised his hands in surrender. "Nothing beyond your interests, old friend. I shan't say another word."

Estinien doubted very much that Aymeric would let it be. He would have to stay on his guard.

"I'm sure you will," he said doubtfully.

Aymeric just smiled.

[aishangotome]

Chapter 7-1 Five Pecks of Rice (手握五斗米)

Chapter 6-26

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.

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The moment the door opened, all the commotion outside fell silent.

I dragged Liu Bian into the inner chamber. In the room, it was just the two of us.

You: There's no one else now, you can talk.

Liu Bian: The Five Pecks of Rice sect believes in the Tao Te Ching. To join the sect, followers only need to offer me five dou of grain.

You: Ha... Haha.

I was so exasperated by his nonsense that I couldn't even muster any anger.

You: ...I did so much for you, and yet you have nothing to say?

Liu Bian: How could that be? If Your Highness has any questions about the teachings, I will certainly answer them for you in detail.

You: Do you know the current situation? Dong Zhuo burned Luoyang, Chang'an became a living hell, and Liu Xie was taken away...

Liu Bian: I only seek to spread the Way of Five Pecks of Rice, so that all beings may attain great equality. A hundred thousand followers have come to Xuzhou with me to live and work in peace...

You: .....

Liu Bian: .....

I stepped forward and slapped him. He was stunned, a look of bewilderment flashing across his eyes.

Caught off guard by the slap, he was quiet for a long time before resuming his frivolous smile.

I slapped him again.

You: Don't smile.

Liu Bian: .......................

You: I'm giving you one last chance. Otherwise, you're a sorcerer impersonating the former emperor. Only by killing you can I preserve the former emperor's reputation.

His eyes flickered, his lips moved slightly, as if he was about to speak...

Chen Deng: Your Highness! Tao Qian, the Governor of Xuzhou, has sent an urgent report, summoning all the regional governors to Pengcheng!

At a time like this...!

Tao Qian is the Governor of Xuzhou, the ruler of the entire province, and Guangling is under his jurisdiction. I had to answer his summons.

I left Liu Bian in the inner chamber and went out to see Chen Deng.

-

Zhang Chao had taken leave to return to his hometown, so for the time being, all the affairs of the Guangling governorship were temporarily handled by Chen Deng.

Chen Deng: This is a bamboo scroll written personally by Tao Qian. Both the Chen and Mi families think he's gone mad and are considering replacing him as governor.

You: ...He... actually wants to make Guan Xuan, the leader of the Yellow Turbans in Xuzhou, the emperor?

I unfurled the next bamboo scroll. The contents were lengthy, and they gave me an ominous feeling...

You: Tao Qian plans to use Guan Xuan's "imperial decree" to expand his territory and wage war in all directions.

You: ...His first target is to join forces with Gongsun Zan and attack Cao Cao's Qingzhou.

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Chapter 7-5

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