So if you have read my last post, you might have known that I hate the fact that my company prints so much (must be the Japanese culture).
To vent my anger, I drafted up a proposal on how our company as a whole can reduce the amount of paper we use. I met up and explained everything to both my supervisor and the head of my department (both at their 40s), along with my idea for a new paid service and I thought my work there is done. I mean, I do not think I can be receiving any bonus or having my salary raised thanks to it, that is why.
I know with the way Japanese do things, they will very unlikely accept the paper-less way of passing any documents.
For example, I explained to my direct supervisor that with the magical technology of the expensive printer we have, we DO NOT have to print out anything to send a FAX (please raise your hand if you know what a FAX is, kudos to you. And yes, Japan still forking uses FAX). He ooh and ah at the way I showed him, telling me he would definitely try it, and yet the next time he sent a FAX on my behalf on my day off, I saw that FAX printed out on my desk. I quickly checked the FAX log in the hope that may be he only printed it out as a record, but to my disappointment he indeed sent it by printing it and passing it through the machine (not the way I showed him that requires no printing).
Oh my lord.
Just fire me so I can no longer lazy myself out from seeking another job.
How To Make Your Own Clown Doll ! (A Guide)
Hello good people !!
I have made a few clown dolls before, and someone submitted a question asking if I followed any guide for them or had a guide myself. I sorta made it up as I went for the first doll, but I have learned better methods of doing things since then!
Here is my guide on how to make some dudes for yourself!
You will need:
Fabric for the body - I used an off-white fleece for the torso and limbs for this one, but have previously used a thin off-white sorta cotton fabric, which works better if you want floppier/thinner limbs!
Fabric for the clothes - Use whatever you want, honestly! I used some cool stretchy silver-metallic fabric for mine but have previously used cotton and polyester patterned fabrics !
Polymer clay - I used Sculpey III for this one, but for my previous two I used some other kind of Sculpey that was very very light and airy, which made it hard to sculpt properly without squishing it! If you want to add any detail to the face shape, use some firm polymer clay !
Posca pens (optional) and acrylic paints - Acrylics are used for the base coat on the head. I used the paints for the details too previously, but used posca pens on this one which was much easier to do the face details with! Either works just fine, though : )
Faux fur - for hair! If you want a bald clown or one with just a hat without hair, you don't need this!
Decorative trims and such - I used some pink frilly elastic trim, blue dotted non-elastic trim, white elastic frilly mesh, buttons, a silver bell and some blue velvet ribbon for this guy! You can literally use whatever you want (ribbons, bows, pom-poms, lace, etc) to make your clown look cute!!
Varnish - Use spray varnish if you can! It'll help prevent the face paint from smudging (all 3 of mine have had this happen using varnish with a brush). It is possible to use varnish with a brush on them but be careful with it! I used sculpey gloss varnish.
Basic sewing supplies (needles, thread, pins, scissors)
1. Make a ball out of the foil, a little smaller than the size you want the finished head.
2. Cover it in a layer of Sculpey and sculpt the face shape you want. Include a pretty thick neck with the base at the bottom WIDER than the rest of the neck. This will be how the head is anchored to the body!
3. Bake the clay, let it cool, and sand it down so that it is nice and even without any finger-prints!
4. Paint a base coat on it with acrylic paints!
5. Paint/draw on whatever face details you want using acrylics or posca pens! Let your creativity flow!!
6. Varnish it!
7. Draw out the body pieces (torso and limbs) on your body fabric. You'll need two torso pieces, four leg pieces and four arm pieces. Honestly there's no method to what shape to draw, just draw what shapes you want them to be! (Remember to reverse each second piece though so that they match up when sewing them together). I used a rounded rectangle for the torso, and chose to make the legs on mine very long!
8. Cut out all the pieces and sew them together with the CORRECT sides facing INWARDS and the WRONG sides facing outwards. Once sewn, flip them inside out. MAKE SURE TO LEAVE THE TOP SIDE OF THE TORSO UN-SEWN TO INSERT THE HEAD!
9. Almost fully fill the body with plastic pellets, and only partially fill the limbs (I filled them about 1/4 full)! If you don't have those, use dry rice like I did (or dry lentils) or sand! If you use sand, ensure sure you make your stitches REALLY close together so sand doesn't come out of any gaps! If you want the limbs to be chunkier, fill them with more pellets OR stuff the rest of them with poly-fill or cotton wool!
10. Insert the neck into the torso and sew the opening tight around it, like this! The wide base of the neck stops the head from coming out : )
11. Sew on the limbs! The stitching doesn't have to be perfect here since the clothes will hide it!
12. Make the clothes! You can make whatever kind of clothing you like; I just made a baggy little jumpsuit sorta thing for my guy! To do this, I laid the clown out on the fabric and roughly drew the shape for clothes around him based on what I wanted! Flip it, lay it down in the fabric again and then trace this to get the second jumpsuit piece!
13. Use the same method of sewing the pieces together with the CORRECT sides facing each other so the WRONG sides are facing outwards. Then turn the clothes inside-out so that the right sides are now facing outwards! MAKE SURE TO LEAVE OPENINGS FOR THE HEAD AND LIMBS TO COME OUT THROUGH!
14. Put the clothes on the clown!!
15. (Optional) Glue fake fur on the top of the head in the style you want it! I used hot glue because I didn't have anything else, but fabric glues and all-purpose glues would be good too! If you don't want hair, just skip this step!
16. (Optional) Hat!! Cut out a wide triangle shape, sew the opposite sides together and then sew a circle to the base if you want a pointy hat like my dude's one (I don't have photos of this sadly but I'm sure there's a tutorial out there of how to sew a cone)! Then glue the base to the top of the head.
16. And finally, add all the trims and extra bits you want to make them look super cute !!! I just sewed on some ribbon to the base of the hat and around the ankles, sewed some frilly elastic trims around the neck, added a little silver bell to the hat, sewed frilly trim around the wrists and ankles and then sewed two buttons onto the front of his clothes!
And then, your little clown is done !!!
I hope this comes in handy to anyone wanting to make their own clown dude!
I would appreciate any reblogs and such of this to help spread the clown joy !!
Have fun !!!
(Small note! I would appreciate if you didn't copy any of my clowns directly! Please use this as more of a guide than an exact tutorial to make this specific clown! Being creative with yours is much more fun!! :•D)
- pairing; m.osamu x gn!reader
- genre; fluff
- w.c; 1k
“That looks ugly.”
Osamu blinks down at his palms then up at you. You seem focused on your own work and he wonders if he imagined that you said something. But then you glance at him, nodding at the half-formed rice ball in his hands. “I said, that looks ugly.”
Okay, he definitely did not imagine that.
The gray-haired teen looks down at his hands again, at the thick flat patty of rice with the center pressed down for the umeboshi he was about to put in. He furrows his brows, his hackles rising.
“Well of course it looks ugly right now,” he huffs. “I ain’t done!”
“All of them are ugly.” Your palms curl together as you form your rice ball and Osamu looks at his plate. They definitely weren’t the prettiest— slightly lopsided, the nori crooked or tuna spilling out from the sides. Osamu feels his cheeks burn with indignation. He looks at yours, about to give you a snide remark but swallow his bitter words. Yours were immaculate little triangles.
You’re smirking at him from the corner of his eye and he scowls at the sad heap of rice in his sticky hands. He didn’t come here to get bullied. “Whatever,” he mumbles, squeezing the rice a little too tightly. He presses the nori a little too hard and puts the onigiri on his plate. As if to mock him, the tip of the triangle falls off.
You turn your head to cough while he shoots you a dirty look.
Osamu had signed up for the class on a whim, bored out of his mind while Atsumu was away at the All-Japan Youth Intensive Training Camp. An onigiri cooking class didn’t seem like it would be that hard. Apparently, he was wrong.
“Why does it matter?” Osamu mumbles as he wipes his hands on his towel. “It’s just onigiri.”
You place your perfectly shaped rice ball onto your plate and then turn to face him. “Just onigiri?” You scoff, jabbing a rice-covered finger at him. “Onigiri is a Japanese staple! It’s an important part of our food culture and has been for thousands of years.” You gesture to your plate. “It’s like makin’ a piece of history.” Osamu stares at you.
“Ya really that passionate about rice balls?” You grin.
“I just really love food.”
Osamu can agree on that and begrudgingly takes up your offer to show him what he’s doing wrong. “Ya use too much or too little rice,” you tell him, dipping your hands into the salted water to keep the grains from sticking to you. “Use the spoon to get the right amount.” You pick up the wooden spoon and dip it into the rice bowl. You plop the lightly steaming rice into your hand before lightly patting it down into a small circle. Osamu hums as though he’s actually listening but his eyes are trained on your face, not on the onigiri.
He recognizes you; you’re in Suna’s class. He’s seen you talking to the middle blocker a handful of times but he doesn’t remember your name. What he does remember are your mouth-watering lunches. The smell of kaarage wafting from your classroom to his still haunts him. “And once you’re done, get a piece of nori, but be careful since your hands are probably sticky— ya didn’t hear a word I said, did ya?”
“Nope.” He doesn’t even bother lying. You roll over your eyes and drop the completed onigiri on his plate.
“Well, I’m not repeatin’ myself so good luck.” Osamu smiles at the small pout on your lips. He also doesn’t remember you being this cute.
You’re about to turn back to your station, intent on ignoring him, when Osamu asks, “What’re ya gonna do with all this food?” You blink up at him and then shrug.
“Probably give them to my neighbors,” you say, adding shrimp tempura to your rice.
Osamu nods then ask, “wanna have a picnic with me instead?” The shrimp is nearly crushed between your fingers.
“W-what?” You hate yourself for stuttering and you hate the stupid smirk on the wing spiker’s face.
“Let’s go on a picnic,” he says again, all too casually. “It’d be a shame not to enjoy the fruits of our labor.” You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at him.
“Ya don’t even know who I am!” And that’s something you are all too painfully aware of.
The things you knew about Miya Osamu— he sits in the class next to yours. He is friends/teammates with your seatmate, Suna Rintarou. He, along with his twin, is a menace on the volleyball court. He really knows how to pack a punch (according to the videos Suna has shown you). And you may or may not have a big fat crush on him.
You nearly bolted when he walked into the cooking class and it took way too much mental energy to work up the nerve to talk to him. Too bad he didn’t have a clue of who you were.
He shrugs. “I kind of know ya. You’re in Suna’s class, right?” He taps his finger on the table and cocks his head. “You had kaarage for lunch the other day. I could smell it all the way to my class.” He licks his lips at the memory. “Smelled amazin’.”
You feel warmth blossom across your cheeks. “I made it,” you mumble as though embarrassed but there’s a proud smile on your face. “An old family recipe.”
“Why don’t ya teach me?” Osamu leans forward, hovering over you. “Promise I’ll be a good student.”
You eye him suspiciously. “What about the picnic?” He’s smirking at you.
“We can do it after the picnic.”
You mull over his words, fixing the rice ball you almost ruined. You grin at the little shrimp tail sticking out of the triangle and say to him, “Alright let’s do it.”
His lips stretch into a smug smile when you hold your hand up. “But only if you make the perfect rice ball.”
through the dark (4/5)
through the dark album
#1 Kakashi Hatake
summary: It had been you and Genma for years - three years, actually, and onto the rest of your lives, you’d hoped - until he’d thrown it all away and left you standing alone in the dark.
And, for all that he has ever feared, the dark had never scared Kakashi Hatake.
word count: 3,479
warnings: suggestive sexual language and descriptions of violence
part three / part five
You’re sitting at the kitchen counter when the banging on the door begins.
The bedroom window had been open again when you’d woken up, the trills of birdsong bringing you out of a black sleep, and you’d laid still and stared out at the thick branches of the oak tree, watching the thrushes jump and chirp about until the morning sun began to shine directly in your face.
Memories of the night before were constant thoughts as you’d leaned against the shower wall, the warm water relaxing the aches in your body. You hated the ill feeling the nightmares left in your stomach, nearly potent enough to cut through your rising hunger. Forcing the image of Genma from your mind was a trial in itself, helped only by the water as it gradually turned cold and brought you from the depths of your thoughts.
In the kitchen, Kakashi had left a note on the counter and you read it as you spooned yourself a bowlful of miso soup from the pot he’d left on the warmed stovetop. Went to the market. Eat breakfast. A man of few words Kakashi certainly was, but you’d sat at the counter and studied the onigiri he’d put out too. It was a simple meal; simple enough that you slunk easily enough into your thoughts as you dipped one of the rice balls into your miso – you’d developed a bad habit of dipping your rice into your soup as a child, much to your mother’s chagrin.
You didn’t remember falling back asleep after you’d leaned against Kakashi last night, but you were glad that he’d been there at the very least. The nightmare you’d had…if he hadn’t woken you up first, you weren’t sure how much longer you would’ve spent in that kaleidoscope of memories and neon bursts before most likely rolling out of the bed or screaming yourself awake. How mortifying though, you thought acridly, flicking a bit of rice off of your forefinger and at the miso, that you had to be rescued from a bad dream like you were a child again, and by your best friend in his own house, no less. You knew Kakashi enough to know that any amount of tears you cried in front of him would not make him think less of you, but it stirred something malign within you, where the love you had for Genma also occupied.
You scowled at the bowl of miso even as you ate a spoonful, only to startle at the beating of a fist on Kakashi’s door, the triangle of onigiri in your opposite hand dropping into the bowl with a wet plunk! You twisted in your seat, throwing your awares, though you’d hardly Sensed more than the protection seals around Kakashi’s house before the door was being pounded on again, followed by shouting.
“Open the damn door, Kakashi! I know you and (Y/N) are here!”
Genma. That was Genma’s voice.
“Damnit Kakashi!” More banging. “Open the fucking door!”
You stood up from the counter, eyes wide as adrenaline shot through your system, flight screaming over your instinct’s urging to fight.
“I need to talk to her Kakashi! I know (Y/N)’s here with you – you’re the last place left!”
You took a step back.
You weren’t scared of Genma at all – his anger was not something that cowed you in the way of making you lay down your arms and surrender hoping for his own anger’s mercy, but you were scared of him in the sense that you did not want to hear what he could possibly have to say. You did not want to hear from his mouth about Hanare, or if he tried to apologize, or if he tried to cover everything with more and more lies. You were scared of him cracking apart the fragments of your heart he’d hurled back at your feet that night into smaller fractions.
You were scared, and you took another step back when he pounded on the door again.
“Kakashi!” Genma yelled, “Open the fucking door before I break it down! You can’t hide (Y/N) from me! She’s not yours now!”
Kakashi’s chakra presence filled the house and in the same breath his hand was on your shoulder, his gaze on the door. He’d shunshinned, you realized absently. Kakashi’s jaw set beneath his mask, but even through your own adrenaline and mounting fear you could sense his roiling anger.
“Go to the bedroom and shut the door,” Kakashi told you, gaze on the door. “He won’t be able to Sense you as long as he’s outside.”
You swallowed. “I’m sorry,” you said, eyes jumping to the door again and when the furious knocking started again.
Kakashi’s expression lost some of its hardness when he looked back at you, his head tilting as he lightly squeezed your shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, ignoring the yelling as Genma’s voice climbed an octave.
“He’s here,” you said, “and yelling at you. About me.”
Kakashi gave you a small smile that you could see through the mask. “He’s yelling at the door.” Another light joke, but you didn’t laugh and Kakashi squeezed your shoulder again. “Go to my room and shut the door. I’ll deal with him.”
You nodded once, slowly, and then again, glancing between Kakashi and the door, where Genma still yelled and pounded on the wood. He was angry – to say at the least – but this was not a battle that you could fight right now. Not now, not when you were still mourning him more than you were angry with him. But you did as Kakashi said and slipped into the bedroom, closing the door across its track and realizing you were beginning to cry. Genma was here – no more than thirty feet away – and he was yelling. Genma was here.
You heard when Kakashi opened the door.
Felt it too, because your chakra was pressing against the seals in fear of Genma managing to break through it. The seals held, even with the front door opened, and Genma’s shout cut out briefly before he was snarling. The noise was muffled, but you still heard, “What the fuck Kakashi?”
“Nice day today, isn’t it?” Kakashi drawled in that disinterested tone of his. “Great day to take a lucky girl down to the lake instead of threatening to break my door, don’t you think?”
You weren’t meant to hear these low jabs, but you still held your breath as –
“Where is (Y/N)?” Genma snapped, and the warding strained to hold the full concentration of his chakra from breaking through.
“Is it really your business, Genma?” Kakashi replied flatly. “You made it really clear you didn’t care about her the other night.”
You heard Genma snarled and imagined his lips pulling back over his teeth. “That’s none of your business, Hatake. I know (Y/N)’s here – you can’t just fucking hide her from me.”
“I’m not hiding anything from you, Genma,” Kakashi said, an acidic tone bleeding into his voice. “Have you thought about it yet that maybe (Y/N) doesn’t want to talk to you as badly as you seem to want to talk to her?”
Truth. Truth. Truth.
You couldn’t stop thinking about the way Genma had looked at Hanare. You didn’t want to see his face when he didn’t look at you like that.
“You don’t get to decide if (Y/N) wants to talk to me or not,” Genma snapped back. “She’s not yours now.”
You Sensed Kakashi’s irritation spike through his chakra presence. “(Y/N) makes the decision on whether or not she wants to talk to you, and until that decision is made, I’ll gladly keep you away from her.”
A beat of silence, your heart pounding in your ears, and then –
Genma’s voice was low, almost too low to hear at first, when he said, “You must be so fucking pleased that I finally fucked up and now you can come and finally get your chance, right Kakashi?”
Kakashi’s chakra signature suddenly became a void in your senses – he’d shut you out of his emotions. Someone else’s chakra presence suddenly flashed into existence near where you could tell Genma was standing beyond the threshold of the door – Asuma.
“Genma,” you heard the Sarutobi heir say, tone neutral but you could feel his chakra roiling, ready to be used. “You don’t need to be here.”
“You called in the calvary, Hatake?” Genma sneered. “She’s here, isn’t she, Kakashi? And you probably told her to hide from me because you were scared that if she saw me, she’d come running right back to me and out of your grasp again, right?”
You swallowed thickly, fingers stuck on the door, hoping Kakashi and Asuma together would be enough to steer off Genma without you having to see him. Hearing him already made your skin crawl and stomach turn with that sick feeling of betrayal and heartbreak.
“You disregard her even more by thinking she’s weak willed enough to spit on her own self-respect.” Kakashi spoke quietly but not softly.
“Oh but I bet you’re more than willing to spit on her though, right Kakashi?” Genma goaded him. “She’s hiding in your bedroom right now, isn’t she? I’m impressed – it took two months to convince her to let me fuck her and it took you less than two days to get between her legs.”
“Genma!” Asuma snapped. “Shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you!”
His words hit you in the heart, with almost as deadly an accuracy as seeing him with another woman. You felt yourself stagger, gripping the door for balance as Kakashi’s rage slipped out of his control in the room beyond.
“Does she make the same noises for you that she does for me?” Genma wondered cruelly, sarcasm deep-set in his voice. “So pretty though, isn’t she, when she lets you on top of her –”
“Get the fuck off my property before I make you wish you hadn’t come here at all,” Kakashi snarled.
There was a jostle of fabric, more than likely Asuma grabbing Genma, but neither of their chakra signatures disappeared. Genma – an idiot for better but more than likely worse – kept talking.
“(Y/N)!” he shouted into the house and you tensed, eyes staring at the door track as you listened so closely to Genma’s voice that your ears strained. “You used to ask me why Kakashi and I weren’t close anymore – you remember?”
You did. You’d asked it a few times in the first year you’d started dating. Kakashi had drifted away from both you, but it was almost like he was entirely lost to Genma.
“Genma. Don’t.” Kakashi’s warning went unheeded.
“You see, Kakashi here has been so fucking in love with you since we were teenagers, (Y/N),” Genma shouted to you, and you could practically hear the mania in his voice, “but he was too much of a fucking coward to ever do anything about it – too scared you’d go and die on him just like –”
Kakashi had crossed the threshold.
Asuma was yelling and you heard the thump of bodies, and it was less than a thought that had you slamming the door across the track and running for the front of the house.
On the ground, Kakashi had Genma beneath him, torso caught between his legs and the blade of a kunai at his throat. A kunai of Genma’s own was positioned right at Kakashi’s gut, both of them snarling death at each other as Asuma stood above them, shouting at them to stop.
“Stop them!” you yelled at Asuma, who yelled something back about the kunai, (Y/N)! I can’t do anything about the kunai!
Genma’s free hand drew back, and you recognized the flash of shuriken between his knuckles in the heartbeat before he slashed at Kakashi’s face with his fist. You leapt for them, diving around Asuma as he went for Genma’s arm, and tackled Kakashi off of Genma. He scrambled out from under you as Genma writhed from Asuma’s grip, but you remained between them, Kakashi’s chest against your back as you threw your arms out, blocking both of them from any hits without striking you too.
“Stop!” you shouted at both of them, and shoved Genma when he lunged, hands wrapping in the fabric of his shirt and catching him. “Genma – stop!”
He hesitated, eyes flicking to yours, and Kakashi’s advantage was more his mistake than your own for being a distraction.
Kakashi yanked you backwards and behind him and you heard the crack of Genma’s jaw as Kakashi punched him. Genma’s body hit the ground hard, and you shouted, yanking Kakashi’s arm back with a grip strengthened with chakra before he could do anymore damage. His Sharingan was still behind his hitai-ate, but his fury didn’t need the kekkei genkai to help him fight.
“Enough!” Asuma yelled, grabbing Genma from the ground as you held tightly onto Kakashi, stopping him again. “Kakashi, fuck off and take a walk before you kill him!”
Genma groaned through the blood spilling from his mouth, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel bad for him as Kakashi snarled at him.
“I’m taking him to the hospital.” Asuma was speaking to you, holding Genma’s weight entirely. “You deal with Kakashi before he bleeds out.”
Bleeds out –
Your gaze shot to the blood stain growing from Kakashi’s grey shirt, right where Genma’s kunai had been positioned.
“Fuck Kakashi,” you swore, right as Asuma body-flickered with Genma. You didn’t spare a single glance, pulling Kakashi back through his house toward his bathroom.
“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth when you pushed the door across the track.
“Sit on the counter,” was all you snapped back.
“I’m fine,” he tried again.
You stopped, fury seeping into your hands as you clenched them. “Sit on the damned counter Kakashi before I make you.”
Your gazes met across the bathroom. He was holding his side, blood slipping between his fingers and the shuriken Genma had tried to fight him with had left a slim and bleeding gash through his mask from his ear to his mouth. The stare-down only lasted only a few seconds, and Kakashi folded, heaving himself onto the counter as you snatched his aid-kit from a shelf and all but slammed it on the counter. You seized the scissors from it, too irritated to ask him to produce the same kunai he’d had up to Genma’s throat moments ago, and grabbed a fistful of Kakashi’s shirt.
You cut away the fabric around his stomach and ribs, hissing a curse as you looked at the injury. Genma’s kunai had strayed across Kakashi’s gut from the left side toward his stomach, no doubt your fault when you’d tackled him off of Genma to protect his face from the shuriken.
Kakashi loosed a hiss when you set your palm over the blood and you didn’t acknowledge him as you shut your eyes and healed. The point where Genma had actually stabbed him hadn’t wounded anything vital – so Genma hadn’t been a complete idiot – but the blade had dragged seven inches across Kakashi’s body. Pulling on the threads of his chakra through his cells was easy work, simple, basic battlefield med work, but you were careful to heal him to the point that no scar would remain to ever tell the story.
When you were done, Kakashi was still panting above your head, gripping the counter with white knuckles. His anger was not only tangible, it had saturated his chakra signature, beating in rhythm with his furious heart.
“Kakashi,” you said, having stood between his legs when you’d begun to heal him. You could see the rage in him, his brow furrowed and jaw clenching, entire body tensed and poised to fight. “Kakashi,” you said again.
His one-eyed gaze snapped to you from the wall behind, and you exhaled as you set your hand on his.
“I’m sorry,” you said, squeezing his hand in yours. His eye narrowed. “For Genma, and for you getting hurt. For bringing you into this.”
Kakashi’s gaze was so absolute and concentrated that you glanced away, trying to breathe through your own anger.
“Don’t apologize,” he finally ground out. “It’s not your fault.”
Your eyes snapped back up to his. “It is my fault! Genma doing this to you is my fault!”
“It’s not,” he replied flatly.
You set your jaw. “He wouldn’t of fought you if I hadn’t been here.”
Kakashi scowled, “It was bound to happen eventually.”
You rubbed a hand down the side of your face and then through your hair. You wanted to ask him what the hell Genma had been talking about and if it was true – and Kami almighty Kakashi, what the hell was that? – but you didn’t dare let the questions even take form. Now – while Kakashi was still smarting for a fight and radiating hot fury like his own sun – was not the time to press it.
“Let me heal your face,” you said instead, dropping your hand from your hair and holding yourself at the waist with your opposite hand. Kakashi’s jaw clenched and he turned his head away slightly. You couldn’t help the puff that slipped through you. “I can’t heal you through the mask, Kakashi. I have to see the injury.”
“It’s just a scratch,” he argued.
“A scratch that’ll make another scar if you don’t let me heal it,” you replied, tipping your head.
He huffed. “It’d be under the mask anyway.”
You knew the logic behind his always wearing the mask: his sense of smell was too sharp for a village packed with over a thousand individuals and their scents, along with the smells of the market, the hospital, and anything else. The practice had originally begun as a way to not overwhelm himself, but from what you remembered of Sakumo, he didn’t wear a mask despite being the lineage that passed on the trait to Kakashi, which meant he was able to breathe without overwhelming himself. So, that left you with the feeling that either Kakashi had never learned to sort out his sense of smell – unlikely – or he was more comfortable in hiding half of his face from the world than exposing himself entirely.
You’d only seen his face once before, when you were children and he’d been crying over Rin Nohara’s grave. He’d turned into a vicious thing after her death, but it was that moment you saw him for his pain and not his anger that had made you approach him through the graveyard and silently pass him your scarf. He’d been silent and tense but accepted the scarf and walked away without a word after you’d laid your flowers down for Rin. That moment was ten years old.
You stared at each other, and you wondered if maybe he was thinking of the same moment as he reached with one hand towards his face and pulled the mask down around his neck.
You forced yourself to only look at the cut, ignoring the rest of his face as you set three fingers along the mark. He wasn’t bleeding heavily, but his skin was warm beneath your touch and he was holding his breath as your chakra sank into his cells. The blood he had spilled, however, was all over the left side of his face, smeared by the fabric of the mask, and when the cut was sealed and you were pulling away, you reached for one of the towels on the counter. Kakashi remained motionless as you wet it under the sink and then brought it to his face, wiping at the blood.
“I’m sorry, Kakashi,” you said again.
He finally exhaled and you listened to him breathe as his shoulders finally lost their tension and he slouched above you. “It’s not your fault,” he said again, eyes away as you cleaned the blood from his face. There was a pink in his cheeks and you did your best to ignore it. “You deserved to punch him more than I did.”
You huffed a short laugh. “You broke his jaw, Kakashi.”
Kakashi’s mouth twisted into a frown. “Sorry.”
Your eyebrow quirked. “Not my problem anymore.” The words slipped out before you fully thought of them and Kakashi’s eye jumped to yours as you swallowed and then cleared your throat, face heating. “He cheated on me, Kakashi. Just like you said, I’m not going to spit on my own self-respect.”
Kakashi’s lips pulled into a small smile. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
You huffed, a smile pulling across your own face, and scrubbed the towel over his mouth, smothering the laugh he loosed.
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Itadakimasu!! | Part 11: I'm Sorry (Written Chapter)
word count: 3.1k
The Mixtape: Thinking of you | CA, 1979
The music that pooled out of Onigiri Miya was anything but what you expected. A small smile crept up onto your face - despite your best efforts - and with a featherlight touch, you crept into the restaurant, silently thanking the soft jazz for drowning out the creaks as you pushed the door open in search of a certain chef.
Osamu stood at the sink, hands working some leftover dishes from the work day. He hummed softly along to the music, and it surprised you just how nice he sounded - how his deep hum complemented the honey voice that dripped through the speakers; rich, thick, and soft like velvet. You padded into the kitchen, clutching the wine and apron closer to your frame so as not to bump it on anything that could give you away, and allowed yourself a few minutes to listen and appreciate before ultimately ruining the moment.
“I didn’t know you could sing, Miya.” You brought a hand up to suppress a giggle as he stiffened and dropped the plate he had been washing with a loud clatter. Osamu bowed his head and cleared his throat, loud enough to drown out the music for a brief moment before it ultimately pervaded the kitchen once more. He grabbed the nearest towel to dry his hands before reaching for the remote, the music ceasing with a quick click. Once he turned around, your eyes immediately fell on the dusted pink that settled onto his cheeks, and you did your best to ignore the warmth that ignited in your chest at the sight.
"So, Etta James, huh?" Osamu coughed awkwardly, turning his attention back toward the sink to finish up the last few dishes that lingered in the basin.
"Ya know Etta James?" An affirming hum left your lips as you placed the bottle of wine and your apron on the island, eyes flitting over the rustic kitchen in search of wine glasses.
The kitchen was a decent size, the bright wooden counters and cabinets a stark contrast to the dark iron of the appliances, but it complemented each other and suited the space well. The soft ivory paint on the walls kept the overall area from being too loud compared to the rest of the restaurant, and you wondered if Kita was behind the greenery that added a lush, vibrant addition to the otherwise plain shop. Your eyes landed on a modest pile of cookbooks stored neatly in the corner, and you let out a huff of victory as you made your way over to the wine glasses that sat in a windowed cabinet above them.
"My parents were big fans, they've always had a funny fascination with America," you explained, and from the corner of your eye you saw him nod. The two of you relished in the, for once, comfortable beats of silence that followed, and you were surprised when he - for a second time since you had met him - decided to be the one break it.
"My Ma used to have this busted up, old, mix tape that she would play every night when she made dinner. Got it at a flea market when she spent a semester abroad in California. She always talked about how she wished she could visit again." The fondness in his voice made your heart squeeze. You busied yourself, listening intently as you placed two wine glasses onto the counter and filled them generously. "Eventually the cassette broke from years of abuse, but I managed to find the songs and make her a playlist. She still listens to it, every night, and I guess I got so used to it that it feels almost...wrong, to cook without hearin' it in the background, even though I'm not home anymore." You slid one glass over to him and he raised a brow at it, a soft smile pointed your way.
"I think ya skimped me a bit," he joked, and you chuckled sheepishly, a hand coming to scratch the back of your neck.
"What can I say, I like my wine." He chuckles as you reach for the small remote.
"You didn't have to stop it, you know. I love me some Etta," you said, and his smile widened ever so slightly as you pressed play, the smooth voice fluttering through the speakers once more, softer this time as you adjusted the volume. You lifted the wine glass to your lips, taking a tentative first sip. The second the bittersweet liquid hit your tongue, you closed your eyes and sighed into the familiarity. It flashed you back to Tokyo; the seemingly endless nights on the balcony with Tendou and Semi, your drunken laughter rivaling the music in volume as Semi sang along with fervor - but, really, does anyone sound good when they're nearly a bottle deep?
Reality slammed into you like a meteor, and you were instantly struck back into the present moment, meeting Osamu's eyes as he watched you curiously. You felt the warmth crawl up your neck from the embarrassment, and you cleared your throat in the hopes that you could divert his attention to literally anything else.
"So, are you gonna teach me how to properly make some Onigiri tonight?" His eyes fell on the apron you brought, the one he gifted to you, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise as his lips settled into a playful smirk.
"Who said anythin' about 'teach'? I said I'd show ya how I make it; I didn' say nothin' about teachin' ya."
"And miss out on learning how to make Onigiri Miya's signature dish? No way." Osamu scoffed as you grabbed your apron and began tying it around your waist. His arms folded in front of him, his lips a thin line. You couldn't tell if he was thinking or already disapproving.
"This was meant to be an apology, you know," he started, but you cut him off.
"I know! And what better apology than by helping me perfect my shaping?" The resigned sigh that followed meant a victory for you, the grin proof enough for both of you that you had won. "So, what are we making today?"
"I figured I'd keep it simple tonight. Ya like fatty tuna?" Of course you do. Who doesn’t? "Great, let's get started then."
To be honest, you weren't expecting Osamu to be as patient with you as he was. Even though you were decently acquainted with the 'art form' that was Onigiri (as so eloquently and dramatically described by Osamu), you decided to entertain him and pretend to struggle with every step - over shredding the tuna, spilling the spices, adding too much mayo - in the minor hope that you could catch him stressed and maybe a bit frustrated - but to your somewhat disappointment, mostly pleasant surprise, every effort to get at least a furrowed brow or a groan was met with a warm smile, sometimes a breathy chuckle, and a strong pair of arms gently guiding you through the correct steps.
It was as equally frustrating as it was endearing.
"Now ya wanna dip yer hands into the dish of water I left on the side for ya, yeah, great, that's it - now grab a pinch of salt - not too much, just a pinch, and ya wanna rub it into yer hands to prep for the rice."
"What if I have a cut somewhere?"
"Do ya have a cut?"
"Well, not that I know of, but what if there's a cut I don't know about?"
"Well then I guess we'll find out soon, won' we?"
You huffed, but nonetheless pinched the tiny mountain of salt and collected a modest amount before tentatively rubbing it into your hands. Your shoulders were stiff the entire time, prepared for the sudden sting on the off chance the salt decided to acquaint itself with an unknown wound on your hand. You heard Osamu stifle a laugh, and your eyes met his as he smirked at your cautious form.
"Stop staring at me, focus on your own stupid rice ball." He laughed - loudly, beautifully - and you felt your hands tremble the slightest bit as you tried to put all of your focus on making a stupid, dumb triangle out of some stupid, dumb rice.
"Need some help?" You merely grumbled in response as the little bundle of rice and filling crumbled in your hands, despite your feeble attempts at shaping it. He set his own, perfectly shaped, onigiri aside and scooched over to you, his arms reaching around your form, chest pressed lightly against your back. "Yer pressing in too softly, so the rice isn't holding. Cup yer hands like this-" he cupped your hands within his own "-just like that. Now press a little firmer, like this." You were trying your best to pay attention to what he was showing you, you really were - but you couldn't help but marvel at how soft his hands were. You expected them to be rough; calloused from years of cooking, volleyball, and the handyman side hobby, but clearly that wasn’t the case. What kind of lotion did he use to make them feel so smooth? Probably some fancy homemade Aloe Vera lotion Kita made for him, you thought with a scoff.
This new revelation had also made you hyper aware that your hands were not, in fact, soft - countless burns, cuts, and other various acts of carelessness in the kitchen have given your hands a battle worn texture that no amount of hoity toity, all natural Aloe Vera would be able to soften up. He must have been cringing inside just having to touch the absolute burlap that is your haggard looking, stupid hands, oh god-
"Nice job, yer doin' great." The gentleness in his voice plucked you from your inner turmoil, effectively grounding you back to the task at hand. What was once a crumbling mess of rice and tuna now stood a beautifully crafted onigiri, the plump triangle nestled snuggly in between your hands. A gasp left you as you beamed at the finished product, and you whipped your head toward him, twisting slightly within his grip so you could face him properly.
It was then that you realized just how close he was to you.
Whatever words you had planned to say to him died in your throat as your brain tried to comprehend why the hell his face was so close to yours. Osamu seemed to be in a similar state of shock, eyes wide and mouth emulating a fish, opening and shutting when the words weren't coming to him. From the way your own mouth gaped, you imagined you shared a similar expression.
Simultaneously, almost comically, you separated yourselves and severed eye contact, Osamu finding something above you particularly interesting. What exactly, you weren't sure - you were too busy eyeing every minute detail of the remarkably plain tile flooring.
Like an awkward embrace from an old friend you never truly vibed with, the uncomfortable silence settled between you two once again.
It would have almost felt nostalgic, if you didn't hate it with a seething passion.
'And my arms need someone, someone to enfold'
The playful jazz number cut through the silence, and you mentally cursed Etta for clearly not reading the room - your arms were certainly not looking to enfold anybody at the moment, and you imagined it was likely that Osamu felt the same.
You spun back around toward your work station, a quick roll of your shoulders the only indication that you were gonna keep working, because you sure as shit didn't trust whatever would have come out of your mouth had you chosen to open it. Lucky for you, he seemed to get the hint and moved back toward his own work station, making quick work of shaping what he had left, while you continued to struggle, albeit far less than before.
Not a word had been uttered in the moments that followed, the music filling the awkward rift that split between you.
To be honest, you felt guilty that nearly every interaction between you two inevitably dissolved into a dense, unbearable tension; the once lighthearted mood suddenly cracked open like a fault line, the quiet settling between you like dust, and it always felt so thick that trying to bring the moment back its old, enlightened state seemed to take such an immense amount of effort - effort that neither one of you appeared to want to put forth.
You wondered if Osamu shared a similar sentiment.
While you finished up the last of your onigiri, you allowed your attention to flicker to Osamu as he eyed the leftover tuna filling with seemingly great interest, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. You watched as he scooped the mess onto his finger, putting obvious effort into keeping it balanced as he brought the teetering pile to his lips. Right as he went to close his lips around his finger, the tiny mountain fell, smearing onto his chin and landing on the counter with the saddest little ‘splat’ you'd ever heard. The disappointment he exuded at his misfortune is what ultimately broke you, and you laughed - a bright, gleeful sound that dispelled the suffocating air in an instant, and made you feel like you could finally breathe again (which was ironic, considering how out of breath you were from the incessant giggles that sprung free with absolutely no regard for your lung capacity).
Your hand flew to your mouth in an (admittedly failed) attempt to stifle yourself, as well as possibly save the last shred of rapidly waning dignity Osamu was probably holding onto for dear life. You folded in on yourself, laughter bouncing off the restaurant floor and - again, probably - stabbing directly into Osamu's crumbling pride.
Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, Osamu's loud, beautiful laugh cut through your own, and at the sight of his uncharacteristically bright smile, accompanied with the little smear of mayo on his chin, you realized that, maybe, probably, he was actually doing just fine; and that this - laughing with him - was something you'd never been given the chance to do before, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't something you wished you could do more often.
You hoped that, maybe, Osamu wanted that, too.
"So, I take it they didn't teach you how to make onigiri at your fancy schmancy culinary school?" He smiled as you bit back a groan. It was embarrassing, how ugly your onigiri looked next to his. Sure, you were joking about your incompetence in the beginning in the hopes to rile him up a little; but when it came to actually forming the balls, well - there's a reason the spite onigiri you made were small and round.
"You win this time, rice man." He boldly plucked one of your creations and plopped it onto his plate, while you opted for one of his. You knew yours were gonna have too much mayo and way too much seasoning, and you weren't about to subject yourself to that.
You took a bite out of the rice ball and audibly moaned - how is something so simple so delicious? He chuckled, lazy smile draped across his features as he watched you eat. The little sparkle in his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you, and you felt a tiny tug on your heart at how excited he was that you were enjoying his food, even if he wasn't being outwardly showy about it like you tended to be.
"'This time'? Does that mean we're doing this again?" You reached for another one of his as you hummed to yourself.
"Hmm, maybe. Maybe I'll force you to bake me some macarons." You were kidding, of course - you wouldn't wish that upon even your worst enemies - but the way his eyes brightened and he agreed with a small but noticeable lilt to his voice had you wondering if maybe making macarons wouldn't be all that bad if you made them with him.
He bit into your onigiri, taking a far more generous bite than you would have, and you snickered at the obvious attempt to conceal the grimace he had involuntarily made upon swallowing. The way he tiptoed around his critique of your failure was incredibly endearing ("It's not bad, just...mayo-y." "You don't have to eat it, you know." "No no, you worked hard, I'm gonna eat it."), and you felt the first little crack form in the walls you had begun to keep up around him ever since the curry incident.
The longer you enjoyed the food, wine, and - surprisingly - company, the harder it became to ignore the guilt that had settled onto your heart earlier in the evening. What started off as a mere twinge had become a sizeable weight in your chest, growing each moment you spent with him that didn't make you want to launch him off the summit of Mount Fuji.
"I'm sorry," you said, quiet and out of the blue. He shot you a confused smile.
"Pretty sure that's my job right now," he pointed out, and you offered a meek chuckle in response.
"I shouldn't have sold the dessert onigiri. Seeing just how passionate you are makes me realize the gravity of what I did. My ego was a little bruised and instead of being an adult about it, I openly insulted you and Kita by making a mockery of your business. I took it too far, and I'm really sorry about that. I'm sure it goes without saying, but I'm gonna stop making them so you don't have to worry anymore." He was quiet, staring at you in a way he hadn't before, and it made you feel far too exposed, playing with the rice crumbled on your plate as you waited for a reaction.
"I'm sorry, too. I only said those things because the idea of you expanding yer menu terrified me. Yer an amazin' chef, and I honestly think ya could run me out of business one day." His voice was soft, too; and you felt the crack grow considerably wider, your vulnerability peeking through pinched brows and hands that you couldn't seem to keep still. "I've always wanted to open up a location in Tokyo, and expand the menu. Onigiri made sense because it's always been a source of comfort, but as much as I love makin' em, there're others things I wanna make, too."
The air between you was...light. The weight that usually settled itself into your shoulder blades seemed to have dissipated, and you couldn't tell if it was the wine, the time, or Osamu. Maybe it was all three.
"I...I like it better when we don't hate each other," you said.
"I never hated you," he said.
"I never hated you either," you admitted.
"Does that mean we can stop pretending we do?" He looked you, and you saw hope.
"Yeah," you said. "We can."
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Fun facts -
Osamu listening to old 60′s love songs just did something to me ok, especially my girl Etta
Kita is 100% responsible for the plants
Osamu’s mom kept the tape, even after it finally broke beyond repair. It reminds her of Osamu’s father, who she met that summer in Cali
he was another exchange student from Japan. They had a summer fling and inevitably said their goodbyes when the summer was over and he had to fly back home.
They ended up bumping into each other a year after she moved back - and fate has been a big theme for the Miya’s ever since.
Osamu has always felt a little funny about it - it feels too convenient, and he doesn’t like the idea of not being in control of his own path.
He thought your ugly rice balls were disgusting, obviously, and he was sure to eat his own after the first one lmao
A/n - when you haven’t updated in so long you have to look at past chapters to remember how you formatted 😭. BUT ITS FINALLY DONEEEE, this chapter KICKED my ass oh my god but it feels so good to be finished and we’re finally moving into new territory~ I’m very excited for the next few chapters!! I hope you guys enjoy this latest chapter, please don’t be afraid to shoot me messages if you have questions!! I have a LOT of behind the scenes content that doesn’t make it into the fic sometimes and I’m always eager to share 🤩✨💛
Taglist (bolded cannot be tagged!)-
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Tasuku Takato SSR [Steadfast Ace Actor] Mr. Stoic’s Rolebuilding Part 2
Izumi: (Since we were able to restock on rice, I wonder if I should make more curry. If we have leftovers, then maybe I can make curry pilaf and curry gratin…)
Tsuzuru: Waa, I was a little off! Sorry!
Omi: No, it’s alright.
Tasuku: Fushimi, nice followup.
Izumi: (I wonder what that commotion is.)
Izumi: The soccer club?
Tasuku: Ever since I heard I was going to play a soccer player, I figured we should get together.
Izumi: By the way, the soccer club hasn’t gathered much recently, huh.
Tsuzuru: Because of Fushimi-san’s responsibilities, it hasn’t been easy to make time.
Omi: Since there’s a big reason now, we tried to gather everyone this time. Though, this time, Azami couldn’t make it.
Tsuzuru: Ahh, I… haven’t played in a while, so I’m a little rusty.
Tasuku: If you say that, so am I.
Izumi: (Fufu, they’re talking while passing the ball around. It’s like “Run around the field” again.)
Tasuku: Oh right, Director. I already told Fushimi—
For a while starting today, I’ll be having different meals from everyone else.
Izumi: Eh, why?
Tasuku: After reading the script, I decided I needed to get in more shape.
Izumi: Ehh… And after buying all that rice…
Tsuzuru: Director’s gonna… make a lot of curry, which means curry pilaf or curry risotto if there’s leftovers.
Izumi: (How did he know…!)
Tasuku: Well, I can eat rice… But I’ll refrain from curry.
Tasuku: Hah hah…
Izumi: … Alrighty.
Good morning, Tasuku-san!
Tasuku: Morning, Director.
Izumi: You’re not eating breakfast today, huh?
Tasuku: Yeah. I’ve got protein for today.
Izumi: Figured that was the case. So I prepared something.
Tasuku: Eh? No, Director—
Izumi: Protein may be good, but you need to eat properly in the morning! Don’t worry, it has low calories and it’s high in protein.
Tasuku: I see. Thank you, then. I’ll enjoy it.
Tasuku: 31, 32, 33…
Taichi: Waa, Tasuku-san’s lifting!
Sakuya: He’s great at it! Nothing can interrupt him.
Misumi: Heeey Tasuku, can you lift this too?
Izumi: Triangular building blocks? As expected…
Tsumugi: But Tasuku’s role this time is a soccer player. What a fitting role.
Tasuku: Yeah, he’s an elite soccer player who receives recommendations.
Taichi: So that kinda character could lift building blocks, right!?
Misumi: Triangle lifting is good for rolebuilding~!
Tasuku: Rolebuilding… Then, I’ll try it.
Sakuya: Wow, he’s doing it!
Taichi: Awesome! Then, how about these sandals!?
Tasuku: Hah hah…
Misumi: These hangers next!
Sakuya: Somehow it’s become a strange lifting contest.
Tasuku: Is this really for rolebuilding?
Tsumugi: Ahaha… Well, I think the most effective rolebuilding for you would be playing soccer with people.
Tasuku: With people…
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What kinds of foods were you not expecting certain races to enjoy? Like, things you thought for sure the Altmer wouldn't eat EVER, but they actually do?
There are certainly a surprising number of culinary irregularities all Tamrielic races have, despite the overwhelming number of picky eaters (Skyrim and Valenwood, I'm looking at you). These are some of the ones which caught me off-guard...
Traditional Argonian cuisine is known for being spicy and a whirlwind of flavours, so the mildness and complexity of foam frog soufflé was not what I expected! In terms of taste and texture, it's comparable to the classic Breton orange liqueur flambéed soufflé. The naturally-occurring foam generated by foam frogs is whipped with coconut milk and scuttlebloom nectar, then gently baked in delicate clay ramekins in a traditional stone oven. It is then sprinkled with a bit of coconut sugar, and drenched in sweet banana liqueur before getting blasted with a Flame spell right at your table! Don't think you can try this at home though- this recipe takes a lot of skill to pull off, and is considered one of the most impressive dishes in Saxhleel cuisine. And yes, it's Breton-approved, but don't tell them that the frog foam is actually residue from mating and is filled with tadpoles.
On that note, the Breton kitchen is full of surprises! It's well known that High Rock gastronomy is very focused on sit-down meals and the correct use of cutlery, so finger foods aren't very traditional, even among the common folk. It blew my mind when I first visited Daggerfall and found taverns and market stands selling Orcish kebabs! These messy, enormous rolls have been downsized (and underfilled) to suit Breton tastes, but the strongly spiced goat meat, frost mirriam yoghurt sauce, and tasty radish balls are true to the original! You'll even find nobles sending their butlers out to procure a hot kebab for them to eat out of view of the public eye...it would be mortifying if somebody saw a drop of chili sauce dripping down a noblewoman's chin!
Green Pact Bosmeri food isn't known for its sweets, so the very existence of meat-based desserts was initially baffling to me. A Valenwood favourite is the boiled pudding, which is made from eggs, milk, suet, and cricket flour, and sweetened with imported sugar, sweet condensed milk, or candied fruit. As such, these dense puddings are sometimes known as Falinesti Forbidden Fruit, and they're sometimes decorated to look like large oranges, apples, or coconuts for the shock factor! And if you're curious to try this strange but tasty dessert, you'll be pleased to know that a new recipe is coming soon...
I admit it, Skyrim cuisine can be a little bland compared to the food of most other races, but this little gem is a dish most outsiders don't know about- Akaviri casserole. I don't know if it's actually Akaviri in origin, or if somebody just thought it sounded exotic, but it is deceptively spicy, and not in a way most Tamrielic people know it. Its key ingredient is frost peppercorns, which grow at high altitudes in Skyrim and around the Druadach Mountains, are coveted by alchemists, but also pack a serious punch in any dish. While regular chilis have a sharp burn, frost peppercorns leave a numbing, tingly feeling that spice masochists love. Anywhere from a couple of peppercorns to a whole fistful of them go into a casserole dish with an eidar cheese sauce, venison, juniper berries, and vegetables like potatoes and carrots. In other words, it's just another Nord dish...but painful.
I mentioned a while ago that Redguards detest moldy or fermented foods, due to the close association with rot and death. There is an exception to this however, and it's surprisingly something that's served in every Hammerfell household: fish paste. Similar in taste to the Imperial garum, fermented fish paste is literally made from leftover fisherman's offcuts which usually have been left out in the sun all day. Rather than leaving the scraps to the vultures, at the end of the day they're shovelled into stone amphorae containing gods know what (it's a closely guarded secret) and are left to ferment for two days in a cellar. Of course, there are plenty of posh Redguard fish pastes on the market with Abecean longfin caviar, but this is first and foremost a food of the common people, with humble (if slightly gross) origins.
I've always loved the predictability of Cyrodiilic cooking...until you find something like barbecued minotaur ribs. Ribs aren't anything surprising, but Imperial ribs are usually tender, delicate lamb or faun. Eating is a serious, dignified affair, so this is a completely astounding defiance of customs. Minotaur meat is a rare delicacy, and they're normally basted in a red wine, honey, and mustard sauce, and grilled on flaming coals. The end result is a meaty, sweet mess, and definitely just as undignified to eat (if not moreso) than the Breton kebabs. If you're willing to get your hands dirty and abandon haughty Imperial decorum, you've found a carnivore's dream.
Gryphons can be dangerous pests to the Khajiit living outside city walls in Elsweyr. When they've snatched enough sheep or wounded people, villagers will often band together and hunt the responsible gryphon, and eat it at a communal feast. A successful gryphon hunt is a cause for celebration among Khajiit, and is seen as a good omen and blessing from Hircine, the Hungry Cat. The reason this is fascinating to me is that gryphons are sort of like a cross between turkey and beef in form and taste, and no other race eats them. After it is plucked, gryphon meat is hacked into chunks and distributed by the clan chief between households, who then cook and share it with the village. Gryphon dishes range from red curried gryphon with saffron rice to a simple roast gryphon with moon sugar.
It's an industry joke that cooking for High Elves is like trying to milk a kagouti; it makes no sense, they're probably going to get mad, and it's impossible. Imagine my astonishment, then, when I learned that even haughty Summerset is not immune from the delicious clutches of...macaroni and cheese. They'll opt for ingredients like cave-aged, 80 year old vintage indrik cheddar or authentic Cyrodiilic buckwheat orrechiette, but I was shocked that this humble dish was a treat that's well-loved in Summerset, despite its lack of technical complexity. It's a rare treat though, because all that cheese grease is bad for the Altmer complexion!
Nothing is particularly surprising from the old guard of traditional Vvardenfell cooking- after a few kwama eggs and guar steaks, you get the general idea. What I do find surprising is the emergence of Skyrim Dunmeri cuisine. It's been a couple of generations since the refugees fleeing Morrowind settled in Solstheim and largely Windhelm, and those born in Skyrim have developed a cooking style of their own. Based on traditional Dunmeri dishes like crab meat and scuttle, you'll find local ingredients used as substitutes. Apparently, the juices from Nord pickled herring makes the perfect substitute for kwama egg whites...I'll leave it at that.
It's known that the radish is an Orc's favourite vegetable, and it's served tender, crunchy, baked or raw in any Orcish dish under the sun. Radish tea-sandwiches are therefore one of the more confusing foods I've come across, though they're mostly served by Wrothgarian and High Rock Orsimer. Soft wheat bread is buttered and layered with horseradish chutney, raw radish slices, and cucumber slices. They're cut into dainty triangles are are usually a snack food, though other races view them as canapés served at high tea or parties. However, when I asked an old hearthwife on Betnikh about radish tea-sandwiches, I was threatened a beating because it was embarrassing, and to tusk off and find some mammoth. If you never hear from me again, you know who got me.
"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray you love, remember." - Hamlet, Act IV Scene V
this piece is inspired by the quote above and is my contribution to the @hqhangout spring formal event! hope you enjoy :)
miya osamu x reader
genre: fluff, angst
word count: 3.4k
warnings: spoilers for haikyuu chapter 381, food, implications of death, rushed bc I was on a deadline and am unable to manage my time well :')
thank you @snoozless and @nadisabug for beta reading <3
osamu isn’t the regretful kind.
that’s what he told himself the day he decided to quit volleyball after high school. even when atsumu was yelling his heart out as they both gripped the front of each other’s jackets as if their lives depended on it, teeth clenched and eyes lit with a fierce fire, osamu told himself he wouldn’t regret it.
and he didn’t.
if anything, he was relieved to hear his brother’s response to his challenge:
when you’re dead, I’ll tell you, ‘see, I was happier than you!’
his will was cemented into that statement. he would have no regrets.
especially not when it came to you.
the shop was busy that day.
workers looking to grab a quick bite, tired parents holding the hands of children with sparkling eyes, friends and couples laughing and chatting away.
it was a busy day, the shop filled with busy people.
and osamu was the busiest of them all. that was to be expected, though, seeing as it was his shop. he was bustling about the kitchen, quickly packing orders and swiping cards, the tear of receipts acting as a spacer of sorts in between each customer. people filtered in and out, the light ring of the bell atop the front door becoming mere background noise.
there was no reason for him to notice you.
the bell rang the same for you as it did everyone else, yet, for some reason, osamu couldn't help but look up from his station as you walked in.
there was certainly no reason for him to be so happy to see you.
well, you had been stopping by more recently. who wouldn't be happy about gettin' more business? osamu reasoned with himself. there's no use in worryin' about it.
for some reason lost to him, you always managed to show up right when the crowd started dwindling. he straightened up as you approached the counter, adjusting his cap and readying a smile.
“hello, how can I help you today?”
you broke out the same smile you’d given him twice a week or so for the past month. “hi, I’d like to order two tuna and spring onion onigiri, please.”
“coming right up.” he waited as you fumbled with your wallet, pulling out some cash and handing it to him.
“I actually tried making onigiri a few days ago.” osamu, who was about to place the money in the cash register, stopped and looked up at you.
“oh yeah? how’d that go?” the register opened with a click as he placed the bills in their respective slots with practiced ease.
“not the best, to be honest.” he handed you your change, which you placed in your wallet. “I didn’t put enough salt on my hands, and I also did not put enough filling in them. so it was basically just a ball of plain rice and a strip of nori. but they at least looked nice.”
osamu tried not to laugh, he really did.
“sounds like you need help, huh? y’know, I just so happen to know someone who’s real good at making onigiri.”
a coy smile tugged at your lips. “oh, really? who?”
“me, of course.”
“... are you offering to teach me how to make onigiri?”
he froze. the click of the register drawer closing seemed to echo throughout the whole shop.
osamu peered at you, a world of hope in your eyes and anticipation written all over your face. shit.
it’ll be alright if I just show ‘em the basics, he thought to himself. s’not like that’ll give away restaurant secrets or anything.
“yeah. here, gimme your phone so I can put my number in.”
“really? thank you so much!” you handed him your phone, watching as he swiftly tapped away at the keypad on the screen.
“send me a text and I’ll tell you when my next day off is, alright?” one of osamu’s employees came up to him and handed him a bag. “oh, and here’s your receipt,” he added, quickly tearing the paper and placing it inside the bag.
“alright. thank you!” you flashed him one last smile and a wave before turning on your heel and walking away.
as he watched you exit the shop, bell ringing once more, he couldn't help but feel a bit hopeful.
rain pelted the ground outside the shop, dark clouds spread across the sky and street lights streaked across the puddles in the street. some might have said it would have been nice to stand there in the rain, without a care in the world as the water washed away all worries. but osamu much preferred to be inside, heater on, tea kettle sat upon the stove, and warm yellow lights delicately brushing the apples of your cheeks.
“I’m sorry, if I’d known it was gonna rain today I would've told you to come on another day.”
“oh don't worry about it! a little rain never hurt anyone. after all, april showers bring may flowers, right?” you responded nonchalantly. “oh, speaking of, I brought you a little something.” you pulled a bundle of green and purple out of your bag, tied together with a thin string and wrapped in what looked like a piece of a brown paper bag.
“... what’s that?”
“.... why’s it got flowers on it?”
“I’m not really sure. I saw it at the market and thought it looked pretty, so I figured I’d bring you some. y’know, since you cook and all. it’s really the least I could do since you’ve offered to teach me.”
… who the hell puts rosemary in onigiri?
“ah, well, that’s real nice of ya. thanks.” he took the bunch from your hand, paper crinkling as he did, and set it down on the countertop nearby. “let’s get started now, yeah?”
after washing your hands, the two of you sat at his kitchen table, everything you needed to make onigiri set out in front of you: rice, nori, tuna mixed with mayonnaise, salt, and a bowl of water.
“so, last time ya told me you could roll them pretty good, right? let’s see what you’ve got.”
“alright. but don’t make fun of me. there’s no way mine are gonna be as good as yours.” you scooped some rice into your palm, carefully rolling it into a ball and gently using your thumb to create an indentation for the filling.
“aw, don’t say that. it’s the thought that counts, y’know?”
“well, sure, but—”
“I just happen to be a bit better at thinkin’ than ya.” you scoffed and turned to look at him. a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
“thanks for the support, mister master chef,” you retorted, rolling your eyes as you reached for a spoon.
you dolloped some of the tuna filling into your ball of rice, then slowly pushed the rice on the sides to cover it. you glanced at him, almost as if searching for approval. he nodded his encouragement.
“y’know, if you keep looking at me like that, I might mess up. or maybe that’s what you’re hoping for?” you wondered aloud, averting your gaze and rotating the ball of rice between your cupped hands.
“nah, I just like watching you work.” it was kinda cute, seeing you try so hard. not that he was about to say that out loud.
you reached for a piece of seaweed, carefully wrapping it around the bottom of the now triangle-shaped rice ball. “well, let’s see what’s come from my hard work, shall we?” you said, handing it to him. “go on. I made it for you.”
osamu’s eyes widened the slightest bit. “oh, thank you.” he took a big bite out of the top and looked back at you. you looked so nervously excited, studying his face for any trace of a reaction. does my opinion really matter that much to you?
“hm… it’s pretty good.”
a big grin spread across your face. “really?”
“mhm. needs more tuna though. lemme show you how it’s done.”
it took him only a few minutes to make his, hands moving as if they had a mind of their own and fingers skillfully sculpting the ball of rice, wrapping it in a sheet of nori for the finishing touch.
“you got that?” he asked, shooting you a knowing grin.
“um, no?" you exclaimed. "you clearly have the advantage here, you finished so quickly!”
“alright, alright. I’ll help ya this time.”
“isn’t that what I’m here for?” you pointed out, dipping your hands in the water once again and salting them.
“oh, is it?” he watched as you scooped some rice onto your open hand, patting it down to create room for the filling. “I had no idea.”
“what else would I be here for?” you laughed in response, placing a big spoonful of tuna on top and moving to reach for the rice. osamu desperately wished he could deny how his heart beat quicker.
"oh, I dunno, just keeping me company?"
if someone were to ask him why he did it, he wouldn’t have an answer. he didn’t have an explanation for any of this.
"well I suppose there's no harm in that," you hummed in response.
“your other one was a bit round, so I’ll help you roll this one, yeah?” you turned to look at him, having just placed the second layer of rice on top, eyebrows raised and lips quirking up into a sheepish smile.
but that’s okay.
he scooted his chair closer to yours, reaching for your hands and cupping one in each of his.
“is this okay?” after seeing you nod your head in response, osamu slowly began guiding your hands in the direction of movement he had previously used to mold his onigiri; consistent pats and light squeezes here and there until he was satisfied with its shape.
he wasn’t sure he had ever felt his heart beat so fast for something so mundane.
removing his hands from their place around yours, he grabbed a sheet of nori and placed it on the table. “you try doing this part on your own; you’re here to learn, aren’t ya?”
you put the rice ball down and began wrapping it. “yeah, I am.” having finished your task, you held the onigiri up, examining it. “I think this one looks better than the first one, don’t you?”
osamu’s eyes flitted from where they had been watching you to the onigiri. “yeah, it does. you can take the first bite this time.”
you hummed in agreement, tentatively biting into the top and eyes widening as you chewed. “this tastes a lot better than the ones I made on my own!”
“does it now? let me try some.” he gently took the onigiri from your hand, locking eyes with you as he did.
“what do you mean? you already ate one—”
you stopped mid-sentence as he quirked an eyebrow, still maintaining eye contact as he stuffed the rest of the rice ball into his mouth.
he swallowed and licked his lips. “I think this one tastes better than the one I made myself,” he declared, holding back the urge to laugh at your flustered expression.
“say… you wouldn’t happen to be free next weekend, would you?” he asked, hand moving to rub at the back of his neck, a hopeful look spreading on his face.
you let out an amused, almost exasperated laugh. “yes, I am. and yes, I would love to go out with you.”
osamu had never known that laying his heart out bare could be so rewarding.
april bled into may, and osamu was happy.
the two of you went out often when time allowed, and when it didn’t, daily text messages and the occasional phone call was enough to tide him over. osamu no longer sought excuses for looking forward to seeing you; he was sure all the regulars knew just by looking at the big smile that spread across his face whenever the bell signaled your arrival.
some might have called him head over heels for you.
not that he minded.
it being your turn to choose the next date spot, you requested the local garden, and so that’s where he took you. for a friday evening it was surprisingly empty, streetlights casting a soft glow upon the plants, seemingly illuminating the petals of the flowers and reflecting across the water of the little pond in the middle of it all. yet no matter how attractive the scenery was, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. cliché, right?
“y’know we came here to enjoy nature, not for you to spend the whole time staring at me.” you glanced at osamu, who was now sporting a very pretty shade of pink on his face.
“it’s you fault for being better-looking than all these flowers.”
“that’s the best defense you’ve got? good one, ‘samu,” you chuckled, turning to admire some roses nearby. “surely there’s at least one kind of flower you like? what about these?”
his gaze moved to the roses in question, watching you touch their petals softly. “I never cared much for roses.”
“oh? why not?”
“they just don’t feel too special when they’re everyone’s go-to, y’know?
you turned to face him, eyes bright with amusement. "well, maybe they're just reliable."
"sure, but I'd rather choose something more unique, something I won't forget. like you and your rosemary flowers,” osamu replied, hooking an arm around you and pulling you into his side.
“yeah,” he responded, a small smile growing on his face as your eyes widened at his statement. happiness must be contagious, he thought to himself, watching you smile back and lean into him.
“speaking of, are you gonna make anything special with the rosemary I gave you?”
“the rosemary? ah, well… I’ve never heard of rosemary being used in onigiri, but… ,” he paused, grinning at your look of anticipation, “I’ll try it out for you. tomorrow, before our little outing, I’ll bring them for you so you can try ‘em. sounds good?”
you nodded enthusiastically, tugging on his jacket to bring him to your height. “I would hate to have gotten my hopes up for nothing, so…” you pecked him on the cheek, laughter echoing throughout the garden at the surprised look on his face. “make sure you remember, okay?”
he stared at you for a bit, eyes tracing every detail of your face as if committing them to memory. studying your face for any sign of hesitation, he slowly started leaning in closer and closer until there was but a few centimeters between you and him. after seeing your little nod, he cupped your face with one of his hands and closed the distance, kissing you tenderly and hoping desperately that you could feel his affection for you through it.
he broke off with a sigh, contentment painted across his features as he rested his forehead against yours, gazing determinedly into your sparkling eyes.
to say osamu was excited was an understatement.
maybe nervous was a better word for it.
he had woken up early that morning, wanting to make sure he had enough time to prepare everything perfectly. he got to work as soon as he got out of bed, putting the rice to cook as he brushed his teeth and slipping an apron on over his pajamas. soft clangs echoed throughout his kitchen as he bustled about, only quieting once he had all of the ingredients needed to put the onigiri together. he made quick work of it, nestling them in a wooden bento box he’d been gifted after the opening of onigiri miya. plucking the lavender colored flowers from the stem of the rosemary you had given him, which was now near bare, he carefully placed them on the top of each onigiri. before placing the lid on, he grabbed a sticky note and quickly scrawled a message on it, smiling to himself as he thought of the expression you’d wear when you saw it. He folded it in half and placed it in the box, put the lid on, and snapped an elastic around it to keep it secure.
stepping back to admire his work, osamu deemed it worthy and headed into his room to get ready.
the walk from his home to the agreed meeting spot was pleasant. the air was warm with the tidings of the new month, a few late-blooming cherry blossom trees welcoming him with their fallen petals.
maybe he should have paid more attention. he had gotten lost in thought, thinking about all the places he wanted to take you to that day, all the sights and food he wished to share with you.
could he be blamed? he was but a fool in love.
just like everyone else.
osamu was snapped out of his thoughts by the noise of a car speeding past him, startling him so much that he nearly dropped the bag in which he had placed the bento box. quickly stopping to check its contents and confirming everything was fine, he continued on, grumbling to himself about the inability of some people to be patient. he came to the corner, paused to fuss with his hair and shirt a bit, and then turned, eyes scanning the crowd for any trace of you.
on any other day, it would have been beautiful.
colorful displays of the street vendors, the low thrum of conversation from passerby, birds chirping and dogs barking their greetings to each other.
it was supposed to be beautiful. with you at his side, hands intertwined, a big smile spread across your face, eyes shining as he kissed your cheek and gave you his heart.
but you weren’t.
you were lying in the middle of the road.
alone, lifeless, surrounded by flowers.
so many, too many, wilted petals scattered all over the street, staining it a dark crimson.
and there he stood, frozen in place, head ringing and mind devoid of any thought save one measly, pathetic word:
he knew there was no use in asking. he knew, and yet he couldn’t help it.
you—you were gone. he knew, but he just couldn’t accept it.
his mind reeled with memories of you, a moment of despair in which he searched for something to bring you back to him. your scent, your smile, your laugh, your tears, your touch—anything. yet, in spite of all that searching, just one thing you had said to him came forward, feeling finally flooding back to him as he thought bitterly to himself:
it seems the may flowers have come, huh?
he didn’t know how he ended up at his kitchen table.
it didn’t matter.
he was sitting at his kitchen table, in the same chair he sat in when he taught you how to make onigiri, where he touched your hand for the first time, where you planted yourself in his heart.
there he sat, alone, hands clasped so tightly he was sure you would’ve pried them apart, scolding him for being so hard on himself to the point where his fingernails dug so deep into his skin.
he lowered his head, forehead resting on his knuckles, and exhaled a shaky breath. upon hearing it, you would’ve coaxed his head up, cupping his face in your hands and studying his face.
tears simmered below the surface, wanting so desperately to spill over. maybe if you had been there, looking at him as if he meant the world to you and giving him that smile he loved so dearly, he would’ve allowed it. no matter how much he hated it, he would’ve done it for you.
but you weren’t.
and so he couldn’t let them fall.
he couldn’t regret it.
he would not regret it.
the time he spent with you, all the looks you traded, laughs you shared, words you exchanged—there would be no regrets.
as he sat there, surrounded by nothing but the now melancholic scent of rosemary, a single phrase came to the front of his mind:
we don’t need memories.
oh, how he wished he didn’t need the memories of you.
but you had asked him to remember.
and so he would.
pangzi for the 'give me a character' ask game
JACK. GREAT CHOICE JACK. I love you Jack.
I’m a mite drunk and forgot what the fuck the ask game I posted was but I double checked and I’m READY let’s go. Here is the ask game list ;)
How I feel about this character: do y’all even have to ask. I love him. I adore him. I want him to hug me and I want to curl myself into his warm embrace. Maybe he can pet the back of my head. I want him to be my dad.
Also he has a lot of unexplored trauma and criminal talent I think is Neat™️
All the people I ship romantically with this character: ok so in this house we don’t hate women like NPSS So PiaoPiao, obviously. They’re like. Peak parents. I want them on my PTA. I love them. Also she tops and I think that’s very sexy of her
Honestly before talking to @humanlighthouse I never really understood PangXie? And personally I don’t generally gravitate towards shipping it, though I very much do ship Iron Threesome
ALSO apparently I’m interested in Liu Sang / Pangzi now, THANKS ANONS, thinking about it forever
My non-romantic OTP for this character: OMGG omg omg omg so iron triangle of course? But ALSO I just. Think. Hei Xiazi and Pangzi are a really interesting friend pair? They share a lot of traits if you think about it and I think they would get each other in fun ways!!!!!!!!!!!!! Idk!!!!!!! I just think they both have very finely honed and deadly skills, yet they choose light hearted ness and humor. It makes me think of @humanlighthouse’s amazing line about people in the grave robbing community entering loudly when they could enter silently as a sign of respect. I think they both get that! And they’re both practical! But so huge hearted beneath it!
Basically give me Pangzi and HXZ shooting the shit over fried rice (PZ deeply judges HXZ cooking method, HXZ refuses to concede)
My unpopular opinion about this character: mmmm I don’t know ... most of my opinions about PZ are pretty #mainstream. Uh. I think he’s pretty :)
One thing I wish to would happen or had happened with this character in canon: I wish he had found someone he loved who didn’t fucking DIE lmao. Uhm in the novel canon I wish NPSS hadn’t included some weird, out of character misogyny in a few scenes? That was balls
In sum, the famous @cross-d-a pic:
hello can I request tendou, kogane, ushijima, and lev reacting to their s/o who really liked painting on their hands, like some kind of pattern or fruits 👉👈
♡ drabbles ♡ for ushijima, tendou, koganegawa & lev
❧ gn reader
✎ 1.6k words
a/n: hello lov, ty for the request! sry it took so long to dish it out ;c i made them into short drabbles/scenarios rather than hc’s, ik u didnt specify but hope thats oki!
have a wonderful day! <3
Ushijima woke up to sunlight peeking through the crack of the blinds. He sat up and stretched his arms upwards, blinking away lingering remnants of sleep from his eyes. The side of your bed was empty; only crumpled sheets and a pillow still marked by the indent of your head remained. Curious, he got up, making his way downstairs and into the kitchen, where he found you sitting at the dining table, paintbrush in hand. His eyes softened as he approached you and placed a palm on your shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
The sound of his deep voice coupled with the warmth of his firm hand made you jump in your seat, jostling you from your thoughts. The brush in your hand painted a streak of red across your fist, overlapping another painted strawberry.
“Ushi, don’t sneak up on me!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
You turned to face him, a slight pout on your lips. Raising your hand, you showed him the many painted strawberries adorning your skin.
“I felt like painting something and eating strawberries, so here,” you explained as your lips curved upward into a small smile. “Luckily, a little water’s enough to get rid of this streak I made here...”
You snatched a table napkin and dipped a corner into your cup of paintwater. Carefully, you dabbed at the red mark, moving upwards to slowly rub it off your skin. Ushijima focused on the intense care and concentration in your gaze, admiring the way your brows furrowed slightly and eyelashes kissed the tops of your cheeks as you blinked.
“There! I’m done,” you grinned as you revealed your completed work. “What do you think?”
He stared at the painted hand you held before him for several seconds before he brought it closer with his own hand and placed a soft kiss to it.
“I like it. It looks nice, like you.”
Embarrassment started to settle in as he lowered your hand from his face, only to be replaced by amused huffs of laughter. Covering your mouth to stifle your giggles, you pointed at Ushijima’s mouth, now peppered with small, faint, red blobs of wet paint.
“Y-You got a little s-something on your face...!” you managed to blurt out despite your chuckles. You snapped a quick picture of his blotched, confused face then continued to type away on your phone before setting it back down on the table.
His brows furrowed in response. “Aren’t you going to show me?”
“Nah. But Tendou will!”
“You’re sure taking your sweet time.”
You rolled your eyes playfully at his comment, continuing to stroke the paintbrush along the back of his hand.
“Hey, I’m just making sure it looks nice. You’re the one who asked me to do this,” you reminded him.
He smirked through closed eyes, leaning back against the bed frame slowly. “I thought it’d look cute for the upcoming game and I can show it off to my team~ I didn’t realize how long it took, though.”
The bed creaked as he shifted. “Can I stretch my legs out, though? I’m losing circulation, babe.”
You paused your work to move over, allowing him to uncross his legs and spread them along the mattress. He took the opportunity to hook one over your lap. You had to refrain from rolling your eyes once more.
Dipping the tip of your brush in your palette, you positioned his hand on top of his thigh and resumed painting on his skin. You moved carefully, making sure to form the shapes you wanted. You took another brush, one with a smaller tip, and created several criss-crossing lines. Meawhile, Tendou hummed contentedly.
“You’ve been listening and singing to nothing but that song for the past two weeks,” you groaned. “It was catchy first, but now it’s just too much, bro.”
“How else am I gonna pass the time? I’m likewise getting a tad tired so why don’t you hurry up, hm?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m almost there. Be patient.”
Another 5 minutes of his increasingly loud (and annoying) humming passed by before you set down your brush on the nightstand.
“Done! You can open your eyes now.”
“Finally!” he exclaimed, eyelids fluttering open. His red eyes glittered with excitement when he brought his hand to his face, examining the brown circles and criss-crossed tan triangles that adorned his skin. A upward curl graced his lips as his eyes traveled from his hand to your expectant gaze.
“Chocolate ice cream cones?” he questioned with amusement.
“Your favorite treat!” you retorted.
He chuckled. “Actually,” he said as he leaned forward, using his other hand to guide your head in close for a peck to the forehead.
“You’re my favorite treat.”
“Y/n!” you heard your boyfriend call. He was bounding up the grassy hill towards your spot in the shade, a paper bag in his right hand. When he reached you, he set down the bag and leaned down to give you a quick kiss on your head, taking a seat next to you, cross legged. He leaned into your shoulder, peering down at your hands and the paintbrush in them.
“Ooh, what’re you painting?” he asked, unable to make out where you were going with the few splotches on the back of your hand. He held your hand up closer to his face, squinting. “Yellow circles?”
“Yes, but noo,” you answered, snatching your hand back and hiding it from view. Teasingly, you added, “You’ll see~ It’s a surprise. Don’t look until I’m done.”
“Whaat? Why can’t I know?” Koganegawa complained, leaning closer in an attempt to grab your hand back. In seconds, he managed to topple you both over the picnic blanket. Squirming underneath his weight, you retaliated by pushing his face back and stretching your arm out of reach.
“Because you can’t!” you shouted between laughs. Successfully shoving Koganegawa off, you staggered onto your feet and dashed behind the nearby tree for safety.
“Aw, c’mon, just tell me, pleeasseeee,” he pleaded as he got onto his knees.
Silence followed for several seconds before he sighed in defeat. “Fine. But eat with me while the food’s still warm. I’m starving!”
Two rice bowls, a large lemonade, and several sneak attacks from Koganegawa later, you waved a hand over your boyfriend’s eyes. He was laying down on the blanket, arms behind his head as he stared at the sunlight-freckled green leaves overhead.
“Okay, dummy, you can see it now,” you joked.
He sat up and took your outstretched palm, turning it over. His eyes widened at the sight of yellow chicks with familiar, brown tufts on their heads. Unable to resist gawking at their cuteness, he gaped at your work.
“This is so cute, y/n! What are these brown little hair thingies, though?”
You rolled your eyes and raised your hand to play with a strand of his own brown little hair thingy. “I based these baby chicks off you!”
His mouth formed an “o” as realization sunk in. “Huh. Do I really look like this?” he asked, holding up your hand next to his face for you to compare.
“Hmmm,” you rubbed your chin in fake thought, looking back and forth between your painting and your boyfriend’s curious expression. “Yes. You’re a bit cuter, though.”
You couldn’t help but feel touched when you noticed the childish wonder in Lev’s eyes as he watched you paint small mangoes across your hand. Dipping your brush into the green paint, you finished off your final fruit with two leaves. You spent several seconds blowing on the paint, forcing your piece to dry faster, then offered your hand to your boyfriend.
Before you could ask him what he thought, however, he was already showering you with compliments.
“Woah, y/n, how are you so talented? This looks even better than those pineapples you did last time, and those were really good! I love this, uh, this gradient -- is that what they call it -- you put here with the orange and yellow! You should do avocados next!”
You huffed with amusement. “Thanks, Lev. I didn’t know you were so into fruit. Or art. Or fruit art.”
He shrugged, smiling. “I just like to see you do what you do best. Other than being the best partner, it’s painting these little fruits on your hand!”
A knock was heard on the door and a voice called out, “Lyovochka? I made some snacks and tea for you and y/n.”
The door cracked open to reveal Alisa’s bright eyes and radiant smile. Once her gaze fell upon the paint bottles at your side, it shifted over to your hand, blotched with an array of yellow, orange, and green.
“Oh, y/n, I didn’t know you liked painting! May I see?” she asked excitedly, opening the door slightly wider.
“Of course,” you answered, extending your hand out for her to look.
She stepped inside and gently took your hand to observe the painted fruits. “It’s adorable, I love it!” she swooned. “After snacks, could you paint some for us, too? Or teach us?”
“Having oranges on my hand as I spike the ball does sound kinda cool...” Lev thought aloud.
“Heh, only if you don’t miss,” you said jokingly, pinching one of his cheeks playfully. “But I’d be happy to!”
And thus you found yourselves huddled together in the living room, fruit sandos and paintbrushes in hand as you three attempted to feed and paint on each other. Though it ended up a bit messy in more ways than one, Lev was content with his misshapen, orange oblongs and Alisa in love with her pink-orange peaches. None of you hesitated to show off your matching fruit hands to anybody you came across for the next two days.
When they make their 18y/o s/o feel insecure or unwanted or unloved
Hey lovely noonies, so I’m going to answer two asks with one, so these are the two asks. I hope you enjoy this reaction! Thank you so much for sending in requests, we love answering them for you. Also thank you for your lovely compliments! Admin Phoenix and I love to write, and we love writing for you all.
I REPHRASE MY REQUEST, about got7 18 year old s/o and them saying something hurtful, them being harsh with you because of your age difference and making you feel unwanted, THAT'S HOW I WANTED IT TO COME OUT anyway if you understand this explanation better, it would be great 💖
Hi can I request a GOT7 scenario where they say something in a fight that makes you insecure😊 P.s I love your writing I think you’re super talented😊
JB walked into his apartment, was greeted by his cats as he removed his shoes, and he walked over to the sofa. The day had been hard for him, as the choreography had been so hard that Jinyoung and Yugyeom had been having trouble with it. All he wanted to do was ly on the sofa, and just relax.
You sent him a text, and he looked down at the phone.
Y/N: Oppa! It’s the last day of summer! I’m going over so we can have a fun day, ok oppa?
JB groaned. He didn’t want to go out. He didn’t want to leave the comfort of his sofa, and the warmth that his million (5) cats offered. He just wanted to eat, lie on the sofa, and watch some boring show so he could fall asleep.
Just as he was starting to doze off, there was a frantic knocking on his door. With a very frustrated sigh, he walked to the door and opened it. His 18 year old girlfriend squealed and jumped into his arms.
His arm muscles strained with the extra weight on his already overworked muscles. His legs shook, and he pushed her off of him. She looked at him curiously, and JB shook his head. He turned to walk into his apartment, but you grabbed his arm.
“Go home,” he said, shaking his head.
“But it’s my last day of freedom,” you said, a pout on your face. “I want to go out and have fun.”
“Well, I don’t have the summer off!” he yelled, making you jump. “I just got back from a hard day at WORK, because I’m an adult! I’m trying to relax, my arms and legs are jelly, and here you come jumping on me, like you weight nothing!” You turned red, and looked down, but JB wasn’t finished. “You don’t understand what it means to work yourself into exhaustion as you’re just a high school student, but I do expect you to understand that I don’t want to go out with you, I want to stay home!”
“I’m sorry, oppa,” you said, a tear falling from your eyes. “You rest oppa, I didn’t mean to be so immature.”
You turned right around, and walked out of the apartment. JB sighed, running his hands down his exhausted features. This was not what he meant to happen today.
Mark loved you, even though you were way younger than him. He never thought that he would be dating an 18-year-old, but truth is he fell for you hard. The only problem was that, because you were so young, sometimes you frustrated him. Sometimes you acted your age, despite being very mature for your age, and when you did, it made Mark want to lash out at you. He never did though, because he understood where you were coming from.
Today was one of those days where you were acting your age, and showing your immaturity. Mark had been asked to co-host a Chinese variety show, with a very pretty, very famous Chinese actress. You had seen the show, and thought that they looked very cozy together, but the truth is you were scared that they seemed to have great chemistry, as Mark was actually talking and genuinely laughing with the actress.
“Why do you have to host with her?” you asked, your hands on your hips. “Why can’t you host with a male actor?”
“Because she was already a host,” Mark said, looking over at you. “I’m just filling in for her co-host. I can’t exactly tell her to leave her own show.”
“I don’t like you’re co-hosting with her!”
“Yeah, well you know what, I don’t expect you to understand!” he yelled, his face turning red. “I do expect you to act like a fucking grown up though!” You took a step back, and he took a step towards you, his hands gesturing his anger. “I expect you to think before you act! I expect you to remember that I’m a fucking idol, who sometimes has to co-host with beautiful women, and there’s nothing that you can do about it! Stop acting like a jealous, petulant child, and realize that I don’t have a choice!”
“Mark,” you whispered, as he took several steps back and taking deep breaths.
“If you don’t start acting mature, then I’m not sure how long we are going to be together, y/n.”
You furrowed your brow, your mouth hanging open, and tears in your eyes. “I see,” you said, nodding and looking down. “This entire time I thought that you and me were a true-blue, done deal, going for the long haul couple, and you’ve been counting the days that we have left. So, we’re not even reading the same book now.” As tears fell from your eyes, you walked away from Mark. “Good luck on your show.”
“Wait,” he said, as you walked out of his apartment.
Jackson watched as you walked into his apartment, in your school uniform, throwing your bag onto the floor. You let out a sigh, and walked over to him, before letting yourself down onto his lap.
“What’s wrong princess?” Jackson asked, as he ran his hand over your arm.
“My classes suck,” you said, with a very pouty sigh.
“It’s just high school baby,” Jackson answered, laughing.
You furrowed your brow, and turned to look at him. True you were very, very much younger than him, and while he was already working in the real world, you were still high school. However, your high school was one for the elites, and it was very difficult to be there on scholarship without suffering the very real, very cruel bullying that happened there. It hurt that Jackson would belittle your experience.
“It’s not just high school,” you answered, your tone no-nonsense. “It’s so much harder that just high school.”
“My point is, it’s just four years of nonsense, and you’re almost done with it. Don’t think about it, don’t talk about it, and it’ll be over soon.”
You got up off his lap, and went to grab your things. Jackson got up with you, and followed you to the door. He took your arm, turning you to face him. He was looking at you with confusion, and you were hurt.
“What did I say?”
“It’s not just high school,” you answered, pulling your arm out of his grasp. “It’s stress, and tests, and keeping my grades up to make sure I don’t’ lose my scholarship, and the chance to have my college paid for, it’s bullies who hate that I’m not rich like them and am tainting their school with smarts rather than money. It’s teachers who are angry that the scholarship kids are smarter than they are, and so they take their frustrations out on us.” You shook your head, and shrugged. “I don’t know what you think high school is like, but it’s not the same experience that I have, and I don’t need you telling me that what I’m going through because of my silly little four year high school experience is insignificant in the long run of my life.” With a sigh, you opened the door and stepped through. “I’ll talk to you later, Jackson.”
Jinyoung rolled his eyes, as you talked endlessly about everything that had happened to you that day. On any normal day he would love to hear all about your problems, and be your much older, much more mature boyfriend. However today he was not in the mood to hear about whatever mundane thing had happened to you, on your first day of your last year in high school.
You missed the eye rolling, as you had been reaching down to get your backpack, so that you could take out the two triangle rice balls you had gotten at the convenience store, one for him and one for you.
“Then the teacher asked if anybody knew what prepositional phrases were, and when she asked me to define it, I couldn’t. I have no idea what she was talking about—”
“Don’t you know anything?” he asked, turning frustrated eyes to you. Your confused eyes let him know that you didn’t know what he was talking about either, and he scoffed. “Of course, you don’t know anything. You’re still in high school.”
“Are you saying I’m stupid because I couldn’t tell the teacher what a prepositional phrase was? Or are you saying I’m too young to understand that you’re having a bad day, and are taking it out on me?”
Jinyoung looked up at you, realizing what it was that he’d said to you. “Y/N—”
“Just forget it, I know when I’m not wanted.”
You put his rice cake on the table, grabbed your bag, and turned to walk out of his apartment. Once you were on the other side of the door, you let your tears fall.
You were going on and on about the last school dance of the year. Youngjae didn’t understand what was so important about this dance, but you were absolutely excited about it. Your talk about dresses and limos, and oh how you wished he could go with you, was boring the life out of him.
He turned back to his game, while you continued to talk, and slowly but surely, started to tune you out. He was in the middle of almost killing some guy, when you hit his shoulder, making him miss his shot.
“What the hell, Y/N?” he said, turning to look at you.
“Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?” you asked.
“I tried,” Youngjae said, giving her a pointed look. “The problem is that your stupid little dance, and everything about it bores the hell out of me. So maybe just leave me alone, and let me play, ok?”
You dropped your gaze from his, and bit your lip. Without saying anything to him, you got your things, and you walked to the apartment door. Never before had he ever made you feel that you were not wanted, or unloved, until this moment.
You made sure that you were not going to cry, until you were out of his house. After that you would cry all you wanted, but not in front of him. He already thought you juvenile, and you didn’t want to add cry baby to his thoughts about you.
“Y/N!” Youngjae called, but you didn’t stop, you walked away, leaving Youngjae a little worried. He knew that you were insecure of the fact that you were still in high school, and he was not.
BamaBam’s phone dinged one more time, in the span of fifteen minutes. He knew that if he looked at his phone it would be a tik tok video that you found funny, or a tic tok challenge that you wanted to do with him.
At first he had thought it cute and funny and he enjoyed watching the tic tok videos that you were watching. However, one whole month of you sending these damn tic toks had him going crazy. He didn’t bother checking his phone, until he got another message notification.
Y/N: Did you see the tic tok?
BamBam didn’t answer. You knew that if he didn’t answer, then that was because he was busy. Usually you would stop texting him, if he didn’t answer you. Today you didn’t. You sent him another damn tic tok.
A few minutes later, you bounded into the boys’ dorm room, fresh out of school, still in your school uniform, and you hopped onto the sofa next to him. You took your phone out and giggled, before his phone went off again. He looked down, sighing in frustration. One more damn tic tok video from you.
“Can you stop sending me this shit?” he snapped, looking at you. You furrowed your brows. “I’m kind of sick and tired of getting tic tok videos every five fucking minutes. Can you stop sending me those stupid videos? They aren’t even funny!”
“They are so, which is why I send them.”
“Your idea of funny is childish and immature. Grow up!”
BamBam got up off the sofa, leaving you there, wondering what the hell had just happened. You swallowed hard, and bit your lip, as your eyes started to water. How was it possible that you went from being his loving, cute, little girlfriend, to being immature and childish? You got up and walked out of the dorms, before the other boys could comment on what happened.
Yugyeom walked over to turn on the music that he was trying to choreograph to. He was having trouble coming up with the dance. You walked in, moved to the far end of the dance studio, and sent him a small smile. He really didn’t like you being here when he danced, but he knew that you felt better about homework if you were close by him. Normally he didn’t care, but Got7 were preparing for a comeback, and he needed to make sure he was going to be perfect, so that he could then help his hyungs if they needed it.
He really hoped that you weren’t going to ask him for help. He had to concentrate today. Unfortunately, twenty minutes into his practice, you waved him over. He sighed, and walked over to you.
“Can you help me with this sentence, please?” you asked, as you showed him your Korean language. “I don’t understand the words.”
“Ahn is a negative, so when paired with a verb, then it’s not that verb. So this means that you don’t like it. Ahn johayo is the part of the sentence that means don’t like.”
“Thanks,” you said, giving him a kiss.
You turned back to your work, as Yugyeom went back to dancing. It was short lived, almost as soon as he got back into the flow, you were calling him over to you again. Yugyeom decided to act like he hadn’t seen you, and kept dancing. When the music stopped, he turned to look at the stereo.
“Are you ignoring me on purpose?” you asked, the pencil still in your hand.
“I don’t’ have time to worry about your stupid little language class!” he snapped, throwing his and up in frustration. “We’re preparing for a comeback, and my hyungs they depend on me sometimes to help them with the dances! I don’t’ have time to explain every little thing to you about what you don’t understand about Korean!”
“All you had to do was say so,” you said.
“I know that you don’t understand, because you’re still a child in high school, but I have real concerns, dealing with the real world. Find a tutor if you’re having that hard a time with the language lessons.”
“So, all this time, you saw me as a child?” you asked, your voice thick with emotion. Yugyeom looked down at you. “I didn’t realize that you thought me so childish and immature. Now that I know, don’t worry, oppa, I won’t bother you anymore. Goodluck with the comeback. I hope you all the best.”
You walked out of the dance studio, all your things in the backpack, and Yugyeoom sighed. As he turned to the stereo, started the music, and moved into the starting position, he noticed your notebook on the floor. Well, now he wasn’t going to be able to concentrate.
Asian food #1
This will be the introductory post for this new series on my blog. The series fits under cultures (for my langblr), food for school (studyblr) and eating on a budged (self-development/life).
Some background, why do I make this series? I have a skin condition that apparently can be kept under control by food and many people/doctors suggested miso and kimchi so I just started to research different Asian cusines.
Some general information about the recipes I saved + observations about the cuisines I've researched so far:
My Korean friends told me that if I don't have an ingredient, to replace it with something similar or leave it out based on how important it is.
Most recipes have a certain set of basic ingredients that you can find anywhere so don't be discouraged if you think the dishes are complicated.
The Japanese and Korean recipes revolve around veggies, beans and rice so they are very healthy.
Also, these cultures keep the snacking to a minimum from my research because they tend to have many small portions of different side dishes which satisfies them and keep them full.
From a video I also learned that dairy and fruits tend to be part of the Japanese cuisine but to a minimum.
Alcohol is usually saved for dinner for Japanese people. The most popular beverage during your meal is green tea.
Korean students drink water only after they eat. (I've read this in some article about some schools) (fun fact, if you drink water while you eat you diluate the gastric juice which isn't that good for your digestion)
It's important to have a balanced choice for food. (If you have rice, chances are you should also have some stew or soup; usually that's what you get in Korean restaurants) Basically have dry dishes but also wet ones. I assume this makes you less likely to want to drink while you eat.
If you add soy sauce, chances are the recipe will request no salt or little salt because the soy sauce is salty on its own.
You should know how much you eat so you don't waste food. If you make too much food, store it in the fridge. Usually side dishes are kept in the fridge.
Most food is made on the spot. I've seen that meal prepping is very popular in Western countries but I don't see this habit in Japan, Korea or China.
I've mentioned some basic ingredients so let's look at them:
Salt, pepper, sugar
Garlic (powder and garlic cloves)
Sesame seeds and sesame oil
Fish sauce and oyster sauce (quite often but not as often as soy sauce, I'll still mention them though)
These are universal for Japan, Korea and China. However, each of them has some extra thingies like miso paste for Japan or gochujang paste for Korea. These can be easily found in an Asian store usually.
Now, I decided that each post should cover 1 area (i.e. rice, stew, soup etc) and if it picks your interest, you can request more posts or send an ask and I'll give you more recipes that I saved for myself.
This post's topic is... Onigiri, a Japanese dish.
Now, I could describe to you what it is but better show you, right?
Let me describe what you see. That yellow thing is tamagoyaki. It's an egg roll. (I'll make a post on this and what variations it has) Then in the bowl you see miso soup with tofu. (I planned a post on soups too) Now, those white triangles are onigiri. This is the most basic form you will see around. (The little yellow thing next to it it's pickled radish.)
Now, let's start with how you make onigiri.
You cook rice and let it cool. YouTube has various recipes for this but you can also ask someone to help you if you have never cooked rice before.
Onigiri can be eaten like this, with only a piece of nori around it but there are different fillings for it. Let's cover the most popular fillings.
Furikake (This is a seasoning that can be bought in a store but if you want to make the mix, you can find on YouTube some tutorials. The simplest one that I found is mixing black and white sesame seeds (that you fried in the pan a bit, let them cool before mixing) and then mix them with small pieces of nori sheets, which can be left out) - you just add 2-3 spoons of this seasoning to the rice and eat them like this
Tuna and mayo with a bit of black or white pepper and salt (you drain the tuna and mix it with a teaspoon of mayo, maybe 2 if you want and add some black/white pepper) - you wet your hands and take some rice. Make it a circle in your hand and place some filling, then you shape it with your hands. (You can find a tutorial on YouTube, it's difficult to describe it in text) As an alternative, you can make them into a ball shape instead of triangle.
Sweet corn - you can mix the corn with the rice or you can mix corn with rice and furikake then shape it. An alternative to sweet corn is green pea.
Meat or tofu - you season the meat or tofu (feel free to add onions or carrots to it) and when it's done, you let it cool. After that you treat it just as the filling of tuna and mayo.
Omelette and ketchup - you mix them and treat it like the meat/tofu/tuna filling.
There are also alternatives for the nori sheet but they might not be easy to find in your area. If you don't have nori sheets at all, there are recipes where you don't need to use them so don't feel the need to buy them if they're difficult to find or they are expensive.
This dish is good on its own but you can make a lunch box with other dishes next to it too. Regardless, this is versatile, satisfying, easy to make and cheap.
Feel free to make your own filling/mix with what you have. The only thing to keep in mind is to not make a mix that's too wet because it might break the rice.
If you keep the rice in the fridge and prepare the onigiri right before you go to school/work and you don't want for it to be dry, add 1-2 tablespoons of an oil of your choice. That should do the trick.
G, K, O, X & Y for Misumi? 💕💕
Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?
There aren’t many people who attempt to understand his love for all things triangular but you’d been a person who happily joined him in his hunting from the day you’d become friends. You even made him things that weren’t normally triangular in nature in front of his very eyes, leaving him in awe at your skill. He knows you regularly go out of your way to keep him happy and that there are times where he can be overwhelming, but he always shows how grateful he is by showering you with gifts (sometimes, they’re even things he knows you actually want!) and affection.
Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?
Kisses with him are always over too quick for your liking, mostly because his mind was constantly buzzing and he could never just sit still. He had a tendency to kiss you very suddenly when he got excited, grabbing your face in his hands and smiling brightly before he smothered your lips with his own, sometimes giggling into the kiss before pulling away and acting as though nothing had happened.
The first kiss was rather sudden but you were glad to know Misumi wanted to take the initiative as he’s the one who kissed you. He was a friendly person so you could never pinpoint if you were special to him or not, couldn’t tell if he liked you in the same way you liked him, so you’d come to the conclusion that nothing more would bloom between you. When you’d presented him with a perfectly shaped onigiri his eyes had lit up and he said ‘I accept’ before leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. You have no actual idea what that rice ball was supposed to mean but it became quite obvious from the blush on his face that he did, indeed, return your feelings.
On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?
Misumi always appears rather air-headed yet happy and energetic, so noticing any change in him after he falls in love is unlikely. The only hint that he has feelings for you is one that only others can see, as he talks about you nearly as much as he talks about hunting for triangles; he finds some way to make a topic about you or to mention you in some way, and more than once he’s wandered around the house looking for you to keep him company (questioning everyone who crossed his path). Since he had many oddities, it didn’t click to anyone who wasn’t a hopeless romantic that Misumi’s actions were because of his crush on you.
Misumi gives you the glorious gift of his company and triangles as a way to express his feelings, loving to spend quality time with you no matter what you’re doing (though he has his preferences). Once the first kiss is out of the way he has no problem saying things like ‘You’re too cute!’ or ‘I love you!’ without any prompting, his love for you presented as unabashedly as his love for triangles is.
XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?
He is actually quite affectionate in nature, nestling his way into your arms much like he did your heart: very forcefully. When you’re laying down in bed or on a couch he’ll practically dive in, making room for himself and smiling brightly up at you as he asks if you’re sleepy. He likes the feeling of your arms around him as it’s comforting, a reminder he’s not alone, and if you were to rake your fingers through his hair you’d have him practically purring.
Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?
If you were to go away on a trip or just not have the time to spend with him due to work/school, there’d be a clear change in his attitude; he’s not nearly as enthusiastic as he normally is and it deeply worries his many dorm mates. It takes quite a few weeks with no affection or physical interaction from you before he starts to get like this but once he’s there, the only cure is you coming back to him and giving him a big hug, reassuring him you had no plans of disappearing again for a long time (or ever, if you could help it).
AMERICAN DREAM, Chapter 2. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: Brief conversation about prior death, otherwise safe. Thank you @missjudge-me for commissioning this piece!
They camped out on the back patio until the sun set. He cooked gyoza and rice balls and some pan-fried chicken, and she ordered ice cream delivery, and they nested their knees together and tucked into a pint of something labeled ‘Just Ask’ and when he asked, she wouldn’t tell him, not even when he tickled her (It wound up being a delicious caramel-Oreo flavor). She instead told him about her degree and moving out, about keeping in contact with Mitsunari as he served in Tanzania through hand-written notes on origami paper. They swapped curated Instagram snapshots and embarrassing anecdotes and reminisced.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “About your dad.”
Masamune shrugged. There was nothing to say. It hurt and always would, but that was his private journey. “Old bastard waited too long to have kids s’what. If he’d had me at a nice, respectable age, we wouldn’t be doing this, the old coot!” He waved a dramatic fist at the sky, relishing her giggles. “You fucked up!”
Overhead, his mother’s bedroom light flicked on.
“Shit,” he muttered. She dropped her face into her hands to stifle the raucous laughter.
“How—” Now she was whispering. Masamune wriggled closer, their legs reflexively entwining. “How’s that going?”
“Better than it used to. We can talk without yelling. Something something time and distance. I’m planning on hunkering down here for a little bit, and once all of the stuff is settled, I’ll probably go back north. The restaurant owners offered to hold my position for me, which is really nice.”
“Hell yeah it is. Isn’t that kind of a cut throat world? They must love you.”
“Yeah. Good openings don’t stay open long in the restaurant biz, so that’s really cool.” Absently, he ran his thumb over the whorls of the deck. “What about you? What’s next?”
“Well.” And she paused, eyes luminous. “I got offered a job interview out east. It’s a good job.”
“Yeah.” Once upon a time, when she was too nervous to really settle her heart on something she wanted, she smiled shyly and fluttered her eyes away. Some things stayed the same. His heart surged as the familiar expression played out before him. “It could be a game changer for me.”
“That the case, huh?”
“Yeah. I mean, I have to do some logistics, and I have to interview, right? But if I get it…” She stretched up to the sky, wriggling her fingers long at the clouds, all the prickled flesh on her arms visible in the cold moonlight. Without thinking, he shuffled closer to warm her. “I mean, I have to actually get to the interview first, so there’s the first hurdle.”
Masamune chewed his lip. “How far out is it?”
“It’s in Virginia. Complete other side of the country. The plane tickets are outrageous.”
“Damn. Guess you’re road tripping, huh?”
A gust of warm breath huffed from her lips. “I mean, I hate going on them alone, but I don’t even have a car right now. Mine got totaled; kid hit me when I was driving down here. Guess I’m taking a damn greyhound.”
His first reaction was to say ‘yikes’, and then… well. Masamune paused, soaking in the possibilities. “So you need a car is what you’re saying?”
Back in the day, his dad often said that the universe lined things up. Masamune didn't exactly believe in fate—he believed in making things happen—but occasionally, he saw the reasoning.
“How do you like eighties cars?” He asked.
She eyed him, a smile in her eyes and voice. “Like the Camaro? Sure, it’s cool. Why?”
Masamune snickered. “Everything in the Date family is cool as hell. What if I told you I could get you a car and a road trip buddy?”
The click of her brain working was almost audible. “Don’t you have to be here?”
“Gotta wait for the death certificates, which is probably a week or so. Mom wants the Camaro gone, and if she has to be around me too long, she’ll probably get sick of me real quick. I might as well make myself scarce and hang out with a dear friend. Besides—I’ll cut you a deal on selling you it. Call it a test drive.”
“A test drive? For like, a week?” But she was grinning, her shoulders angled in toward his. “Weeklong test drives aren’t kosher, Mr. Date.”
“And I’m not Jewish.”
“Are you being serious right now?”
“Serious as my dad’s grave.” Masamume brushed a lock of stray hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Want me along for the ride?”
Once upon a time, years ago, the whole gang got into an altercation with an older man in a Ford pickup. They were only teenagers sitting on a dock, but the guy pulled up and screamed at them for ‘loitering’. Mitsunari tried to intervene, and when the man acted like he might hit him, Ieyasu almost threw hands himself. They’d retreated into the woods—and when the man left, Masamune, Mitsuhide, and she went back and lit the dock on fire to spite him. Right beforehand, she’d fixed him with the most mischievous expression he’d ever seen: mouth sucked into her teeth, eyes glittering, staring out from under her lashes.
Now, she made that same expression, and it lit a fire in him.
“We’d have to leave like…” She mentally calculated. “In three days to make it.”
“Or we could take the long road, do a little sightseeing, and leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” She echoed. Only a half second later, that smile was back. “I’m game.”
At six a.m. sharp, Masamune tried to wake her by flinging rocks at her window. That didn't work. At last he resorted to calling her, discovering that she stayed in a completely different room now.
“Could’a used that knowledge,” he chuckled, hopping in place to warm his legs. The fog pressed in around him, September chill early this year. “Don’t suppose anyone is using that room?”
Her voice was thin, but warm over the phone. “No, it’s a home gym now.”
“Great! I didn't hassle anyone else. Get out here, Kitten, we got a road to get on.”
She emerged twenty minutes later, sweatpants fresh from the dryer, wet hair in a sloppy bun and a suitcase click-clacking behind her. She never was a morning person. Masamune snickered and popped the Camaro trunk. “Wanna drive, or wanna let me do it?”
“You start. Can we get some Starbucks?”
“Ugh.” He clutched his chest, mock-wounded. “All of the coffee places in the world, and you want Starbucks. My palate is crying.”
Rolling her eyes, she slid into the passenger seat. “Drama queen.”
They got Starbucks. She tucked her feet into fuzzy socks and folded them under her knees, clutching the large mocha. Only the rush of the road beneath their tires filled the silence. Asphalt and trees emerged from the mist like a benevolent ghost, Americana obscured. They’d only just merged onto the highway when Masamune realized there wasn’t an audio jack in the car.
“Shit,” he muttered.
She opened her eyes, head lolling on the headrest. “What?”
He flicked the dashboard. Nope, no audio jack. Not even a CD player. No; amidst all the toggles and buttons of the dash was a cassette player. “I don’t have anything to listen to. This thing won’t hook up to the phones, and I don’t have any tapes.”
“Hm.” Taking a long sip of her drink, she mused, “Maybe your dad has some in here?”
“I guess that’d make sense. Take a look around, would you?”
Sure enough, she was right. Tucked away in the glove compartment was a treasure trove: Fleetwood Mac, Eagles, AC/DC, Prince, Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen. “Damn,” she chuckled, “Your dad had good taste.”
Masamune took the copy of Rumors in his fingers, never taking his eyes off the road. The dust was thick under his thumb. “He’d play ‘Back in Black’ when he picked me up from school. It was cool as hell.” With a snap, he pried open the copy of Rumors and popped it into the player. The speakers hummed to life with strumming guitar, Fleetwood Mac echoing. “I know there’s nothing to say, someone has taken my place…” She rested her elbow on the center console, brushing his arm with her as she texted.
“Guess what?” She murmured. “Mitsunari just got back from Tanzania.”
“Oh shit, really?” How long had it been? Masamune mentally calculated the dates. “I guess it has been two years, huh? The Peace Corps finally turned him loose?”
“Yeah. He’s apparently crashing at Ieyasu’s place—” Masamune barked a laugh, and she tittered, but continued, “—and wants to know if we’re going to head that direction.”
“He’s in Maryland, right?” Fishing out his phone, he checked it. “Yasu didn't tell me about this. Bastard. Well, we get there fast enough, then we can definitely hunker down there for a day or so and celebrate his coming back.”
Classic rock kept them company on the long drive. He didn't mind roadtrips. There was something sacred about them. Forget the American Dream; it was dead. Long live the American Road Trip, a rite of passage for the lost souls from sea to shining sea. Nothing cleared the senses like cranking up the heater on the floorboards and rolling down the window to a blast of autumn air. She let down her hair and it whipped wild in the wind.
Thank God she was here. Masamune quietly relished her reappearance in his life. She was a gateway to an old world, one with his father alive, one where he still snuck out of the house at night and biked to the 7-Eleven for slurpees at 3a.m. They stopped at a Cracker Barrel for dinner and ordered root beer floats and roasted each other over the annoying ‘jump-the-pegs’ game perched on every table. Though you were supposed to reduce it to one peg, she couldn’t quite manage it. Somehow she kept getting two or three.
“I got it down to one peg once,” she laughed, shoving it toward him. Masamune swirled it under his hand.
“I can do it,” he commented. “But that’s because Mitsunari taught me the trick years ago.” He knocked the first peg out of the top of the triangle, moving it elsewhere. “That’s the one that’s gotta be empty. From there on out, there’s a set solution.”
She craned over it, investigating. “What’s the set solution?”
A long, hefty pause lingered between them as he slurped some of his float.
“Dunno anymore.” He cracked a grin. “I forgot like, eight years ago.”
“Ass! Then you don’t know!” She swatted at his arm and grinned. “Liar!”
“Hey! I was just trying to look cool in front’a you, Kitten, I can’t look like some big dumb stud after all these years—”
“I love how you allow for the possibility that you’re dumb,” she cackled, “but not the possibility that you’re anything other than hot.”
“Am I wrong? Look at me.”
The roll of her eyes was exactly what he wanted. She shoved a biscuit at him over the table. “I think Mark Twain said something like, ‘it’s better to stop talking and appear dumb than open your mouth and remove any doubt’, Masamune.”
He clutched at his chest, but took the biscuit anyway. “You wound me, Kitten.”
As they were paying the bill, she split off and reappeared a minute later, plunking thirty cents onto the cash register and tucking a cinnamon stick into his jacket pocket. “Here.”
“My favorite!” He peeled back the plastic wrapper. “Thanks, Kitkat. You remembered.”
For the first time since they’d seen each other again, her expression evolved to one he’d almost forgotten. He’d only seen it once before. It was a moonlit night back in their senior year, after prom, when they were both lingering in the pool as everyone else passed out drunk. He’d wiped a leaf from her hair and told her she was beautiful, and she’d looked at him like that so long and hard that he wondered if he’d ever known her inner thoughts at all.
“Of course I remembered,” she answered at last, soft and clarion clear. “I remember all kinds of things about you, Masamune.”
I do have two possible species though, I might as well take up two index entries.
Both species are from the Spodoptera genus
Family Noctuidae “Cutworms, Armyworms, Whistling Moths, Underwings”
The Adult moth has a complex array of brown patterning, mimicking wheat/grass seeds (As you can see above) The wingspan is about 3CM.
The Larval stage (has yet to be photographed) is a pale green, with two striped patterns vertical striped patterns in a darker shade of green, and a black head. The later instars become brown.
The Larvae feeds on:
Brachiaria mutica “Para Grass”
Oryza sativa “Rice”
Paspalum dilatatum “Dallisgrass”
Pennisetum clandestinum “Kikuyu”
Saccharum officinarum “Sugar Cane”
Sorghum bicolor “Sorghum”
This species is found in these Australian states:
Along with these Countries:
Africa (Presumably across the whole continent)
Family Noctuidae “Cutworms, Armyworms, Whistling Moths, Underwings”
The Adult moth Has practically the same patterns as the species listed above, however images I find show a subtle navy-blue tint.
The Larval stage (has yet to be photographed) Start off with smooth-skin and green longitudinal lines. The later instars become brown with two rows of black triangles along the back.
Like other Spodoptera caterpillars, when disturbed they drop, curl into a ball, and stay still.
The Larvae feeds on:
Cynodon species “Bermuda Grass”
Pennisetum clandestinum “Kikuyu”
Sorghum bicolor “Sorghum”
Oryza sativa “Rice”
This species is found in many Australian states/islands:
Lord Howe Island
Along with these Countries:
U.A.E, “United Arab Emirates”
; You meet the boy next door, Kamado Tanjiro. Tanjiro x reader, modern AU!
can be found on my wattpad
Character : Kamado Tanjiro
You knew Kamado Tanjiro pretty well.
He was the eldest son of the Kamado family that lived across the street, in the bright red house surrounded by bonsai pots. If you looked out the window, you would often see young Tanjiro running around with his siblings, chasing them with a handmade oni mask or carrying them on his back.
The sight was heartwarming, to say the least, and though your own household wasn't terrible, something in you sparked your curiousity towards that family. You wanted to know about their daily life, you wanted to know about what they ate for breakfast and if everyone was at the table, eating together.... you wanted to know more about Kamado Tanjiro.
You knew that his family ran a restaurant that sat at the lower level of their red house, and that they served hot miso soup¹ as well as the best onigiris² that you've ever had. You knew that the father of the house was sickly, but he still got up to cook in the kitchen. You knew that Tanjiro and Nezuko ( the eldest daughter ) would rush home from school to serve at the restaurant.
But yet, you wanted to know more about Kamado Tanjiro. He was peculiar.
The first day after you moved into your current house, you heard a knock on the door. You were speechless to find a young boy, with the brightest ruby red eyes grinning at you with the smile that outshone the sun. His hands, calloused and scarred, held a basket of fluffy rice triangles.
"I'm Kamado Tanjiro, your new neighbour," He held out his hand, "It's nice to meet you!"
His hands felt strangely smooth.
You soon found out why his hands were like that.
"Oh... my hands?" He glanced at them, embarrassed, "It's because i keep cutting and burning myself while cooking.."
But it didn't explain why they felt so soft,
and why you wanted to lace your fingers through his so badly.
He soon found out that he attended the same school as you did, and he was beyond elated to know that he had a friend to walk to school with.
"I'll show you around the campus, so meet me after school tomorrow, okay?" He said, the night before your first day of school. The boy had shown up on your front steps, once again, with a basket of onigiris. At that moment you couldn't help but think that you wouldn't mind getting fat on these balls of rice as long as he kept giving them to you.
The next day, he showed you around the school as promised. During the tour, you met Zenitsu, who was a little too eager to shake your hand, and Inosuke, who wasn't eager at all to shake your hand. He had a peculiar group of friends that were like opposite ends of a pole, which made you wonder if he was really this nice to everyone and anyone.
He was friends with many people, as many students greeted him as he showed you around the halls, including members of the student council. You were in awe of his social abilities, and you wondered how someone could be so pure and, just, so nice.
You weren't at all surprised that he was well liked though, since he had been nothing but warm and welcoming to you ever since the day you arrived in his neighbourhood.
And so, you and Tanjiro got closer and closer. You now know that he has a mole behind his left ear, and that the earrings that he wears are a family heirloom. You know that he sleeps with two pillows and wakes up at 5am daily to prepare the ingredients for the soup stock. You know that his heart is as pure as gold, and that he tears up whenever he tells a lie.
But what you don't know.. is why your heart flutters whenever he gives you an onigiri. You almost feel bad, because the boy keeps gifting you with his god sent riceballs and you have nothing to offer to him.
Every week, he gives you a riceball. Most of the time it's plain, sometimes it has pickled plums or marinated seaweed in the middle. Sometimes, its something completely different, like sakuramochi.³
Every week, your heart seems to be going out of control as it rams itself against your ribcage.
It wasn't until you received an onigiri that had unagi⁴ in it, then you realised,
ah... you stared at the riceball in your hand, every grain of rice moulded together into a perfect triangular shape. i know why...
"Thank you, Tanjiro." You smile gratefully at him before taking a bite, letting the smooth grains of rice and buttery unagi melt in your mouth
it's because i like him.
¹ Japanese traditional soup consisting of a stock called "dashi" into which softened miso paste is mixed. Many ingredients are added depending on regional and seasonal recipes, and personal preference.
² Japanese rice balls, in triangle shape, usually wrapped with seaweed. common flavours are pickled plum, salt, seaweed or tuna mayonnaise
³ Japanese sweet consisting of sweet pink-colored rice cake with a red bean paste center, and wrapped in a pickled cherry blossom leaf
⁴ eel, which is usually considered high class and expensive food
Reader x Kenshin Uesugi - Salty Onigiri
Title: Salty Onigiri
Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku
Character: Kenshin Uesugi
Genre: romance + slow burn
Warnings: ??? i mean very minor spoilers about his route, but everything after getting out of the.. Place.. Is completely fictional!
Intended Gender Audience: Female audience
Word Count: 2367 words its a thicc boi
Other comments: this is kind of a continuation of my pickled plums thing LOL; there will be a part 3 (angst) and a part 4 (hardcore smut), so keep an eye out for those~ you can reach each part as a one shot though if you’re not into a series, but I do recommend reading them all! For now, enjoy^^
As the days pass, someone has been leaving pickled plums within arms reach of your cell as you sleep. You assume it’s either Yukimura or Sasuke helping you through this unfair treatment, and you promise yourself that you’ll thank them when they stop by or when you get out. Whichever comes first… and at this rate, you’re not sure which one will.
You’re finishing a plum and reading a basic book about the geography of the land when you hear someone descending into the cells. Wiping your finger on your clothes, you hide the jar and lie down to make it appear like you had been sleeping.
Kenshin clears his throat when he arrives in front of your cell, but you remain motionless. He scoffs and kicks the bars, sending a rippling wave through the walls. It shakes you as well; a display of his overwhelming physical power. You sit up straight suddenly and shoot him an angry glare. “So you’re alive,” he deadpans, crouching to meet your eye level. His eyes are cold as ever, but there seems to be a slight spark of curiosity – the way a hunter would admire his prey.
“Yes,” you reply through your teeth.
His eyes flicker to the slight glint on the embroidery in your kimono. He smirks slightly upon realizing it is juice from the pickled plums he had been leaving for you. However, you knew not about the stain nor the fact that Kenshin had been providing your midnight snacks.
As silence crept between you, and Kenshin mentally declares the moment a victory over you, but then he wonders why he is so preoccupied with thinking about it. You’re his prisoner.
However, Kenshin had betrayed his thoughts and you could read his expression plain as day. “What is it?” you ask.
He shakes his head and stands up straight. “You are no longer required to stay in here. I’m letting you free.”
Kenshin opens the door, and it swings open. You’re tempted to make a run for it, but you know that he could cut you down before you’d make it past him.
“Free to walk around the grounds. Should you attempt to escape and violate my hospitality… I won’t hesitate to send you back to Nobunaga… in pieces…” His voice is low and threatening, so you know he means what he’s saying.
You linger in the cage, considering his offer. To be honest, you’re not sure if he’s lying or telling the truth.
“If you want to stay in here, I have no problem with that-”
“No! I’m coming out…” you say as you stand up and gingerly exit. You watch his body for any sign of movement, but he remains perfectly still. Accepting this as a sign he is telling the truth, you look towards the door and see rays of sunlight poking from under it. Not thinking about Kenshin, you make a run for it, bouncing up the stairs and into the fresh air as fast as you can.
The passageway opens up to an outdoor hallway, so you leap forward, off the wooden boards and into the sun. Bright light blinds you momentarily and Kenshin shouts after you, but you’re focused on feeling the daylight on your skin. As you bask in the sun, he stumbles out after you. Kenshin is about to grab you, but he watches you twirl in the light, and his breath is taken away.
As you spin, the golden light reflects on your hair and face, illuminating your silhouette from behind. Your laughter fills his ears, and he doesn’t know how to react in the moment as he is completely awestruck.
He did not understand how you could find joy in something as trivial as the sun. Tipping his head to the side slightly, he watches you waltz in circles. Kenshin only breaks out of the trance when you call out to Yukimura, who has turned the corner and is walking towards you.
He waves and smiles at you, asking if you’ve escaped or if you have been released.
Kenshin watches from the shade like an afterthought, and his heart sinks for some inexplicable reason.
“Thank you for bringing me the plums, Yukimura! They really kept me going there, especially when I thought that I would be spending the rest of my life in that cell.”
Yukimura beams and rubs the back of his neck. “It was the least I could do. Happy that you’re out though, even if you’re still a prisoner.”
Kenshin blinks and his hand lands on the hilt of his sword. He relaxes and shakes his head, wondering why a spell of anger overtook him. Sure, he had been the one to give you the treats, but he did not understand why it bothered him to hear the young vassal taking credit for it.
Dismissing the situation, Kenshin takes his leave. You only see a flicker of blue from the corner of your eyes when he turns the corner.
“Tell me, why have you come to me of all people? The only reason you dare speak to me is if there is an emergency,” Shingen teases as he takes a sip of his tea. “Could it be that the God of War as developed emotions but does not know how to handle them?”
Kenshin fumes and considers leaving, but he simply crosses his arms. “Never.”
Shingen raises an eyebrow. “Does this have to do with a certain little nightingale that you’ve recently released~?”
“I simply do not understand why I find myself so concerned about her whereabouts.”
To this, Shingen laughs heartily. “My friend, has she really managed to touch your heart in so little time?”
Kenshin wishes he had a bottle of sake with him. He could drink it and hit Shingen over the head with it. “We are not friends. And if you continue to laugh at me, I will leave.”
“Why not go spend time with her? She’s rather lovely, especially when alone~”
“Have you been with her alone?” Kenshin inquires, a pang of worry plucking at his heartstrings.
Shigen smirks dangerously. “Of course I have!” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back. “I must say… her voice is ever so sweet, especially when it’s the only melody you listen to~”
Kenshin growls at the comment, but Shingen waves his hand to dismiss anything he might be thinking. “Go to her. She should be in the kitchens. Apologize for treating her like a common prisoner. Women like to be swept up off their feet.”
“Says you, Womanizer of Kai-” he mumbles in response as he stands up. Before he exists the room, he calls over his shoulder, “For the record, I’m doing this because I have manners. Not because you suggested that I do.”
“Ha! Of course, Lord Kenshin,” Shingen says with a wink.
Just as Shingen had said, Kenshin finds you in the kitchen. The sleeves of your kimono are rolled up and your hair is loosely tied back. Strands of your bangs curl over your head, matted down by the slight sheen of sweat that reflects in the light as you move gracefully.
You curse under your breath when the bamboo wrap slips from your hands. As Kenshin moves forward, you squeal in surprise as you had not noticed him earlier. “Lord Kenshin!”
He grunts in acknowledgement before looking at the mess of rice scattered across the table. “What are you doing here? Besides destroying things.”
Averting your gaze, you look down. “I was trying… to help…”
Kenshin raises an eyebrow. “I release you from the cells, and instead of doing whatever you please, you task yourself with manual labor?”
“Well it sounds stupid when you say it like that.”
He takes the knife from your hand and cuts the balls of rice into half. “You are using far too much. How do you expect the seaweed to hold it properly when you have enough to feed a soldier in this ball?”
His comment makes you laugh. Taking another wad of rice, you break it into two. “Like this?” you ask.
“Yes. Now shape it with the end of the blade.” Kenshin lines up the rice and presses the metal against the sides, forming them into roughly the same size triangles of rice. You follow his steps the best you can, but yours look less equal compared to Kenshin’s. Upon seeing the disappointment on your face, Kenshin takes a bite from one. “It takes practice.”
“Yours are perfect. How did you do it?”
“I’ve known how to make onigiri since I was young.”
Interested by this comment, you press further. “You know how to cook?”
“Any man should. In the case they find themselves unable to communicate or in a situation where help is limited. Of course I do.”
Is there anything he can’t do? you ask yourself.
The two of you reach for the washcloth, causing his hand to brush over yours. Kenshin reels back almost immediately, and allows you to take it. Bowing his head slightly, Kenshin clears his throat. “It was not right to keep you in the cell,” he begins, catching your attention. “I should have put you to work instead.”
“Is that supposed to be an apology?!”
Kenshin turns away. “Name it what you will.”
“Wait!” you call after him as he leaves. However, he escapes before you have the chance to speak to him more.
Tensions between you and Kenshin lessen as time passes, and one day Kenshin sees you admiring the garden in full bloom. He wishes to join you, but Shingen is by your side before he has a chance to go to you. His blood boils when he sees Shingen making you laugh, so he storms off.
However, he did not hear what actually transpired between you and Shingen:
“What a beautiful flower, no?” Shingen comments suavely as he meets your pace.
“Where?” you ask, turning in circles to look for it.
“Well, surely I am referring to you.”
Looking down, you tuck your hair behind your ear. “Ah…”
“Tell me, how do you like it here?”
You inhale the fresh air and smile. “It’s beautiful… yes. But I do miss the Oda castle. All of my friends are there. I’ve become close with some of the maids here though-”
Shingen nods and smiles as your face lights up. The two of you walk a few paces forward before Shingen introduces a new conversation. “I do believe that Kenshin has taken a liking to you, my dear.”
This makes you laugh. “Lord Kenshin?”
“I doubt it-” you reply swiftly as warmth spreads to your cheeks. “He kept me as a prisoner. Albeit, he made sure I was accommodated, I cannot forgive him for that.”
Shingen ponders for a moment. “Are you aware that he left pickled plums for you after catching you eating them?”
“And he let you,” Shingen concludes.
Before you can reply, you see a streak of blue zip around the corner.
“Oh no…” you whisper to yourself, realizing Kenshin had been watching you.
A few days later and you still feel guilty for upsetting Kenshin. He barely showed himself, and the few times you caught a glimpse of him, he would refuse to look you in the eye. It bothered you that you had become relatively close… if that was even possible… to Kenshin, but now he cut himself off from you.
Determined to make things right, you go to the kitchens to prepare a special dinner for him.
It’s hard to knock on his door as you hold the tray, but Kenshin opens the door just as you’re about to call out. In fact, he nearly runs into you, but he stops himself at the last moment.
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought you some onigiri. And plums!”
Kenshin looks at the tray and the words roll off of his tongue. “For me?”
Rolling your eyes, you let yourself inside. “No, for Shingen.” You set it down on the table and wait for him to return from the door. When he lingers, you laugh and add, “Yes, it’s for you. It’s kind of… a way to make amends? He told me that you left the plums for me while I was in the cell.” But then, you cross your arms. “I wouldn’t have been in the cell in the first place if you hadn’t locked me there, though.”
He looks at you with a blank expression, and you jump slightly. “I-I’ll go…”
As you leave, Kenshin catches your wrist. “No. Stay.”
You sit opposite from Kenshin and wait for him to eat something. After a few minutes of silence, he takes one of the onigiris and bites one of the corners. You expect him to comment on good it is, but instead he spits it out.
“Did you use an entire salt mine on this?!”
Relaxing, you howl with laughter.
Kenshin does not find this funny, and takes a long swig of sake. “How dare you?!”
“I’m sorry!” you manage to hiccup between bursts of laughter. “I must have accidentally put too much.”
He does not believe this, and instead thinks you’re trying to poison him. Kenshin attempts to eat a different one, but it has the same issue of being far too salty to consume. You find this hysterical, so Kenshin huffs with annoyance.
“You’re having far too much fun with this-” Kenshin complains. “Share my fate, then.” He sits up, leans over the table, catches your kimono with his fingers, and pulls you forward.
Your breath is trapped in your throat as he presses his lips against yours. Kenshin’s tongue invades your mouth, bring the overwhelming taste of salt with it. Despite this, you melt into the kiss, enveloped by his musky scent in addition to the salt. You press your fingers to his jaw – a sign to show you accept his kiss. Had the table not been there, Kenshin would have welcomed himself to pin you under him.
He leans back and a sly smirk captures his lips as a dark blush spreads across your cheeks.
The onigiri was far too salty.
RotTMNT/Baron Jitsu fanfiction: Dating… With Children - Chapter Nine
(Also on AO3 if you want to leave a comment or kudos)
Plot: Benjamin Draxum hardly considered himself a man of high social standing. Not because he was uncouth or unworthy of it, mind you, but simply because he didn’t have much of a social life. Hard to have one when he usually spent his days at work, cooped up in a lab for so long that he often had his lunches in there, and his nights at home reading or doing research for more personal projects. But perhaps meeting handsome semi-retired movie star - as well as his four young sons - could change all that…
((Shoutout to @halloweennut and her kind words (as well as her own drabble based on this AU) for inspiring me to get back to this story for a bit, heh ^v^ I've written two other chapters along with this one, just to make up for both the hiatus before this aaaand the hiatus after this (I still have my TMNT Big Bang fic to finish up, and this fic is kind of a 'when I'm in the mood for it' project anyway. Hope this big content drop makes up for it though. Enjoy! ^v^))
“He's definitely got his own lab! He's a scientist, he has to!”
“Oh yeah! Totally!”
“Do you think he's got his own library room too? Smart people always have libraries in their homes.”
“Yeah, but he knows how to fight like Pop does, so maybe he's got a gym too? Or maybe a whole ring! That would be really cool!”
“He's a scientist, Raphie, not a wrestler!”
“He can both if he wants to be!”
“What are you boys talking about back there?” Lou asked, stopping to look over his shoulder at his sons while also taking a moment to shift the small bag of food to his other arm.
“Nothing!” The four boys quickly shouted, all of them flashing an innocent smile for good measure.
Lou hummed, his expression a mix of suspicious and endeared. “...Just remember, we are guests in Ben’s apartment. So remember to behave yourselves, alright?”
“We will!” “Mmhm!” “Yep!” “Promise!” Satisfied, Lou continued leading the way up to his boyfriend’s Manhattan apartment.
While Lou certainly didn't mind Draxum coming over to his house all the time, Draxum still insisted that their next visit be at his place, figuring it would only be fair. And, similar to their first shared meal, Lou and his sons would be bringing dessert while Draxum would take care of supper. Although, thanks to his youngest’s insistence, he was also bringing something else to share with Draxum in both food and experience. He just hoped his boyfriend didn't mind too much.
Finally, they arrived and Lou knocked on the door. His boys gathered tightly around his legs, all of them eager to see what could possibly inside the apartment. After a few seconds - though it had seemed like an eternity - Draxum opened the door. “Glad you all could make it,” he told them, giving the family of five a small smile.
“Same to you,” Lou smirked, closing the distance between them for a quick peck on the lips that was happily returned.
Once Draxum stepped to the side, the boys didn't even wait for an invitation and just rushed in. Though, that speed didn't last very long unfortunately. From the plain walls and hardwood floors to the closed curtains and the simple bookshelf next to it (nowhere near enough to be a library), it was plain to see that Draxum’s apartment was, well… Just an apartment.
“...Well this place is boring,” Leo stated.
Lou frowned. “Leonardo, manners,” he lightly scolded.
“Oh, uh, I mean, your apartment is… Super cool?” Leo corrected, sheepishly smiling up at his dad’s boyfriend who thankfully didn't look too offended.
Deciding to be a bit more honest, Donnie added, “We thought you would have a lab here, since you're a scientist.”
“Yeah!” Mikey chirped, with Raph nodding along with him, “Just like the smart people on tv!”
“Well,” Draxum replied, chuckling slightly, “I don't think my landlord would be too thrilled with a home lab. It's easier to keep my projects at my office anyway. Although, I was able to set up a small exercise space in my spare room.” Raph grinned at that. Not a gym or wrestling ring, but close enough to feel like his guess had been right.
As for Donnie, while he was disappointed at the lack of a lab or sci-fi decor, the collection of books did catch his attention. He moved to pull one out, but stopped when he heard his dad - who was still keeping an eye on them, even after he and Draxum had moved to the kitchenette - clear his throat. “Oops. Uh, may I PLEASE look at your books, Dr. Draxum?”
“You may,” Draxum nodded, “thank you for asking.” Donnie smiled, and quickly began his search through the small collection, wanting to see for himself what stories and subjects the doctor was into even if he didn't get a chance to read any of it that night.
“An’ can I open up the curtains?” Mikey asked, pointing at the hidden window.
That request Draxum had to actually consider a bit. He did like his privacy, after all… Though one open set of curtains wouldn't be too bad, he supposed. “You may,” he repeated.
“Thanks!” Mikey grinned, running over to the window. His brothers in red and blue joined him, and once they got them open all three of them looked at the fantastic view with awe. “Wowwwwww! The city looks so pretty from your home, Draxum!”
“Yeah!” Raph agreed, “Hey Pop, it's sorta like the time you took us to the top of the Empire State Building, only all the lights are way closer!”
“Heh, yep, it looks like a great view,” Lou smiled, enjoying it himself before looking back at Draxum, “So, Doc, what are we having?” Whatever it was, it smelled great.
“Just some roasted chicken and potatoes,” Draxum answered, “I didn't want to make something your boys didn't want to eat, so I just kept it simple.”
Lou laughed a bit at that. “Trust me, they are not picky eaters. But chicken sounds great, and I may have another side dish for us, if you are interested.” Setting his bag down, he first took out the family-sized tiramisu he had bought, wanting to get it in the fridge as soon as possible. That definitely surprised Draxum a bit, not expecting kids under ten to enjoy something like tiramisu.
But what was even more surprising was when Lou pulled out a bag of rice, a small package of seaweed, and a jar of pickled plums. “Rice balls?”
“Mikey’s idea,” Lou explained, his smile softening a bit, “Making them was one of our first ‘family night’ things that we did…” He could remember it well, all the trial and error they went through along with all the laughs, finally culminating in a place of rice balls that they were all pretty proud of, not caring about all the stray bits of rice that they would have to clean afterwards. “I tried telling him that we were only supposed to bring dessert, but he was insistent that he wanted to teach you. Though, I’d understand if you wanted to do it another time, onigiri making can get pretty messy.”
“Well, no messier than any other type of cooking, I would think,” Draxum lightly retorted. Really, the idea itself he could pass on. But the fact that it was Mikey’s idea, and no doubt something all the kids would enjoy doing together… Gah, when did he become such a softie? It was aggravating in a way, yet also something he knew he wouldn’t care much about in the moment. “We’ve got another half an hour until supper’s done anyway, so why not?” After all, it was just shaping steamed rice, how hard could it be?
...Apparently, much harder than he thought.
“Are you SURE you wet your hands enough?” Leo asked, once again leaning over Draxum’s arm.
“Yes,” Draxum huffed. It wasn't his hands that were the problem, it was the rice that refused to stay together! The more he tried to form it, the more rice that would just fall off or stick to his hand. Wasn’t it supposed to be ‘sticky’ with itself? He narrowed his eyes as he noticed more of his rice falling off his ‘ball’ (really it was more like a misshapen lump).
Lou tried to hide his smile, sympathizing with Draxum but also being way too amused. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” he told him, repeating the words he had first used with his kids nearly three years ago, “Rice tastes like rice no matter how together it is.”
“I know,” Draxum mumbled, his eyes refusing to leave the rice as he continued trying to work it into the proper shape.
“Don’t worry about squishin’ it,” Raph suggested, “It’s already soft, so you can’t really ruin it, so just squeeze it together as tight as you can!” He demonstrated this by squishing his rice ball between his hands like he was squishing a ball of playdoh.
“I still say you should just go wash your hands again,” Leo commented
Draxum huffed again. “Honestly, maybe that wouldn’t be a bad idea,” he said as he glared at the rice sticking to his palms and fingers.
Across the coffee table from him (Draxum didn’t have nearly enough chairs for everyone, so they settled for sitting in the living room on the floor), Donnie made a face. “Yeah, I hate the feeling of rice on my hands too. That’s why it’s just better to use a wet spoon,” he told him, using his tool of choice to finish off his triangle-shaped treat. Leo suddenly coughed, unsubtly hiding the word ‘cheater’ in it. Donnie lightly elbowed his twin, and Leo returned the action, sticking his tongue out.
While he had no problems with Donnie using a ‘cheat’, Draxum’s pride still made him want to make onigiri the proper way, even if it was easier said than done. “Well I think it looks really good,” he heard Mikey say, the boy in orange sitting up a bit straighter as he tried to get a better view at it. Mikey’s own rice balls were practically perfect, and Draxum had a feeling that once he was tall enough to safely use the stove and oven, Mikey would no doubt become the chef of the Jitsu family. “Even if it’s kinda small, it’ll still be yummy! And you’re still having fun, right?”
Finally breaking eye contact with his frustrating, very much imperfect creation, Draxum looked at Mikey’s hopeful face. “...Well, it’s not as easy as I thought it would be, but… I guess it is fun, in a way,” he answered after some thought. Mikey grinned, leaning on him in place of a hug, not wanting to put his own sticky hands on Draxum’s shirt and ruin it.
Looking back at his rice ball with a silent sigh, Draxum picked up a piece of seaweed around the lump, effectively finishing it and placing it on the plate. After a moment of thought, he turned to Mikey. “Would you like to help me with the next one?”
“YEAH!” Mikey shouted, jumping to his feet immediately, “I’ll help you make the best rice ball ever!” he told him as he raced back over to the sink to wet his hands.
Despite his rice fail, the youngest Jitsu’s excitement still managed to bring a small smile to Draxum’s face. “I’m sure you will,” he said as he followed Mikey to the kitchen. As they prepared to get started, Draxum intently listening while Mikey eagerly explained his own tricks to getting the rice ball to keep its shape, Lou’s smile only grew. There was no denying now that his orange son had the right idea about sharing this piece of their family nights with the man that was quickly becoming family too.
By the end of it all, Draxum’s statement about the onigiri making being its ‘own sort of fun’ had become a bit more true. (Weirdly enough, it was easier to relax and not focus so much on perfection when a child was taking the lead.) Still, he was glad to wash his hands for the final time as they all worked together to clean off the leftover rice and set the coffee table for their supper, finishing the making of their rice balls just seconds before the timer went off.
As Lou had promised, the kids quickly dug into their food without complaint, though Draxum decided to try the rice before the main course. After all the effort put into making the damn things, he wasn’t going to let himself get too full to even eat them. “...I’m not sure about the plum, but the rice and seaweed itself is pretty good,” he said after a couple bites.
“We usually put fish or whatever in ‘em,” Raph told him, “But I still kinda like the plum.”
“Althoughhhh…” Getting an idea, Leo reached for a rice ball. Opening it up a bit, he then stuck a piece of his chicken into it. “There! Chicken and rice goes great!”
“It doesn’t really go with plum though,” Donnie commented.
“Maybe potato would work better?” Mikey asked, already sticking a piece of herb covered potato into his rice ball. Curious, his brothers all did the same.
“Oh yeah, kinda!” “Weird mix, but it does taste alright!” “Sorta like puttin’ cranberries on your potatoes at Thanksgiving.”
Knowing he couldn’t really discourage their food experimenting, Lou just chuckled slightly as his kids pretty much tore apart their hard work to try and mix it with the other food on their plate. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that leftover rice.”
“I suppose not,” Draxum smirked back before taking another bite of his onigiri.
Conversation remained light and enjoyable as they ate, sometimes with the boys discussing something on their own while Lou and Draxum had their own conversation, and other times they’d all be on the same subject. And, like most things Draxum had come to expect from the Jitsu family, it was a bit unusual and a little loud yet still very much comfortable, with the hot homemade food in his stomach only adding to his warmth.
When their plates were cleared and boredom already starting to settle in, Lou figured they would just turn on the tv and settle for whatever primetime movie or show was on. But, as it turned out, Draxum had a surprise of his own…
“Trivial Pursuit for Family?” he read off the clearly newly-bought box, raising an eyebrow. His kids, excited to play, were already setting up the game over the coffee table, setting their pieces of tiramisu to the side for the moment.
“Yes, well, your family seemed like the type that would enjoy game nights,” Draxum explained, “And well, I figured-”
“That this would be a good board game that was both entertaining for the kids and NOT completely torturous for us to play?” Lou grinned, knowing very well what sort of obnoxious board games were on the shelves of toy stores. (He loved his boys with all his heart but he was NEVER AGAIN buying something like Toilet Trouble or anything similar.)
“Got it in one,” Draxum flatly told him, not even trying to deny it. Lou laughed and returned to his seat on the floor. Sure he wasn’t the biggest fan of trivia, but Lou figured it would still be a pretty fun time.
The boys ended up splitting themselves into teams, with Mikey and Leo on one and Donnie and Raph on the other, just to make it a bit more fair to someone like Mikey who wasn’t as far in school as his brothers were. This also kept things from getting too competitive, since all of them had at least one subject they were well versed in and now had a partner they could discuss the answers they didn’t know with, which kept one team from completely dominating over the other.
As for Draxum and Lou, they were on their own. A seemingly fair idea for the adults… In theory.
“...Oh come on, seriously?” Lou scowled, “That is the question?”
“You heard me,” Draxum told him, “‘Who led the first expedition to the North Pole’?”
“How am I supposed to know something like that?!”
“Pretty sure the answer’s Santa Claus,” Leo half-whispered to Mikey, who nodded firmly in agreement.
“Actually, it was Robert Peary,” Draxum told them, having already flipped the card over. Lou scoffed, passing the dice to his left. Lousy history questions. Why couldn’t he land on ‘Entertainment’ or ‘Sports’? At least those he somewhat knew.
His sons had much better luck, answering their Kids Questions at a steady pace. Donnie naturally always aced the science questions while Raph helped with sports. Even at age five, Mikey surprisingly knew a lot about art from the various picture books he had looked through on the subject, and Leo knew quite a bit of history. They all knew most of the entertainment questions related to kids media, but not having a good grasp on the geography outside of their home city meant that landing on a blue space would always get a loud groan from the duo unlucky enough to land on it.
Soon enough it was Draxum’s turn once again, and Lou drew a card from the Adult card holder, thankful that his boyfriend hadn’t landed on a green space at least. He didn’t seem like an artsy guy, so maybe an Art and Culture question would trip him up some. “‘Which is not a vocal part in an all-male barbershop quartet’?” Lou read, “‘Baritone, lead or al-’?”
“Alto,” Draxum answered, “Can’t exactly have a high part in singing that’s meant to be low.”
“So what, you’re a music expert now?” Lou asked, nearly tossing the card aside. He could hear his sons trying to hide their giggling while Draxum coolly picked up a purple wedge.
“Getting a little competitive, are we, Lou?”
“Shittakaburi.” Draxum just chuckled, not needing to understand him in order to still be amused by his boyfriend’s pouting. Of course, not even Draxum was smart enough to get EVERY question right, so Lou was still able to get his light-hearted digs in whenever Draxum did get something wrong.
Still, neither of them ended up winning the game in the end, and they both gladly clapped for Mikey and Leo’s team when Leo got the final question of the game right. “I was guessing on that one,” he admitted, “But still, I’m awesome!”
Donnie and Raph rolled their eyes, though with such a close game with was hard to really be mad. Besides, all four of them were too tired for a rematch, and their father and his date could clearly see that. Lou picked up Mikey and let him rest his head on his shoulder while he took Raph’s hand, and Draxum did the same with the twins. Without much resistance - and thankfully, without any tripping either - the boys were all led back down to the parking lot and to Lou’s car.
“Thanks for a fun time,” Lou said after he buckled in his sleepy sons, his voice quiet but just as sincere as ever, “I mean, I always have a fun time with you, but… I really do appreciate the things you do for my boys, Ben. Making onigiri and playing games, helping when they were sick and playing in the yard…”
Draxum hummed, thinking back on those moments - moments that, before meeting Lou and his family, he probably would’ve refused otherwise out of awkwardness or not wanting to deal with what seemed like such a hassle. It was still hard to believe how quickly he had gotten attached to the boys, how quickly their childish antics and youthful excitement and unwavering admiration towards him made Draxum want to make them smile too. “I do those things because I want to,” he told him firmly, not wanting his boyfriend to think that he was only doing it out of any sort of obligation or simply because he knew being nice to boys would please Lou. No, his actions were just as genuine as his affection, Draxum made sure of it.
“Heh, yeah, I know… Still, I know it means a lot to them, just as much as it means a lot to me.” With a small smile, he leaned forward and met Draxum’s lips once more.
Again, Draxum returned the gesture, holding Lou close. The wind was picking up, the autumn season slowly but surely becoming winter, but Draxum could hardly even feel it.
“You’re a really sweet guy,” Lou told him once their kiss broke.
“Even if I beat you in trivia?” Draxum asked.
Lou hmph’d before smirking back at him. “Fine, fine, yes. Even then.”
“Heh, good to know.” They shared another kiss, holding each other for just a bit longer before finally parting for the night. Draxum watched until the headlights of the gold colored car were lost in the sea of Manhattan traffic, and then went back upstairs. As Lou had promised, there weren’t any leftovers, and Draxum lazily decided that washing dishes and putting away the game could wait until morning.
But, as he moved to close the curtains, he hesitated. “...It is a pretty nice view,” he mumbled to himself, his hand letting go of the drawstring.
He was still a man of privacy, no doubt about that. But even so, perhaps a bit of extra light in his life couldn’t hurt...
Sunday my husband asked me to make him a Bento box...
I’ve made him one before a few years ago...but I am bad at rice balls(I know that’s not the right word for it but yeah I’m American and I don’t want to bother looking up the correct spelling) I will say this is better than my first attempt...and no I am not showing pictures of the monstrosity that it is because instead of triangles the rice balls look like oddly shaped spheres that are trying to be triangles with tuna inside.(but there is a surprise they are not the same!)
mostly I just wanted to share that I think its cute that my husband asked me to make him a Bento...wish he’d ask me to make a beef wellington again though... that was fun :3
Temari Variation Comparison.
I know you have probably been wondering what I have been doing with my temari, but I had to get both of these in the same place so that I could photograph them side by side to document the differences.
The ball on the left used 1 1/2 cups of rice hull filler: the right used 1 cup of rice hull filler. I was hoping that by making the ball larger that I would have more room to play with the design, but even though the left ball looks much larger, the triangles in the pentagon were not really all that much bigger after all. Rather than make another larger ball, I will just go back to my comfort zone and change the number of strands of each color instead. Labor Day (when I have to bring my entries to competition) will be here sooner than you imagine, and I don’t have a lot of time to play around.