#ALSO NOTICE THE “RED AS RADISH”

[tiffaluvr]

mute post

[the-habitat-ring]

The (Real) Stardew Valley Farm Update 2024

I’m wrapping up my third year trying to grow everything from Stardew Valley in our yard, with substitutions as needed, preferably with Midwest USA native plants.

I’m continuing to battle the invasive plants (why won’t the honeysuckle and thistles stop?????), beg for truckloads of woodchips (Google decided our address isn’t real anymore), and deal with a body and brain that makes going outside impossible sometimes (the past two years have been rough medically). But despite all of that I still managed to make a ton of progress!

Here’s how things stand as of now. If you’re looking back at previous posts you might notice some differences, but that’s mainly because things I planted died (drought + medical crises don’t bode well for newly established plants). I’ve also added the additional crops from the new update.

2021

Amaranth - Native white amaranth

Grape - Native riverbank grapes (so many grapes). I’m hopefully going to successfully propagate some cuttings from the neighbor’s green cultivated variety

Dandelion - Obviously

Maple Tree - Native silver, red, and sugar maples

Pine Tree - Douglas fir

Apple Tree - Three old apple trees of different varieties in very rough shape. I’ve been working to prune them up and two are looking a lot better. I’d love an Enterprise apple tree at some point

Coffee Bean - Chicory (a naturalized plant commonly used as a coffee substitute)

Salmonberry - Native black raspberries since salmonberries aren’t from around here, although I really want to add raspberries of various colors in the future

Starfruit - Native wood sorrel

Cave Carrot - Queen Ann’s Lace, AKA wild carrot

2022

Kale

Rhubarb

Strawberry - Both cultivated and native

Tulip

Radish

Tomato

Eggplant

Fairy Rose - Native prairie rose

Cranberries - Native cranberry viburnum

Orange Tree -Native persimmons, which produce orange fruit

Daffodil

Spring Onion - Native nodding onions

Spice Berry - Native spicebushes

Wild Plum - Native plums

Crocus

Cherry Tree - Native black cherries and nonnative bush cherries

Banana Tree - Native pawpaws, which are also known as Indiana bananas

Sweet Gem Berry - Native Juneberry (Downy Serviceberry)

2023

Garlic - Native wild garlic

Blueberries - I planted three varieties and only one survived. Don’t shortcut your bed preparation, friends

Wild Horseradish - Not wild, but contained with my mint

Hops - Teamaker hops which is good for tea since we’re not alcohol fans

2024

Blue Jazz - Native Ozark Bluestar

Beets

Apricot Tree - Native passionflower vine, also known as wild apricot

Sunflower - Both native and non-native sunflowers

Pumpkin

Cactus Fruit - Native prickly pear cactus

Melon - Cantaloupe

Oak Tree - Native dwarf chinquapin oak, which took me forever to get

Hot Pepper

Palm Tree/coconut - Native palm sedge

Poppy - Native purple poppy mallow, after other native poppies failed. I still want to grow bread seed poppies, though

Corn - Tried some gorgeous colored corn and popcorn that didn’t grow great but they did grow!

Green bean

Hazelnut - They’re supposed to be easy to grow but they do not like me. Third time’s the charm, right?

Carrot

Summer squash

Powder melon - I decided to do honeydew melon because it’s kinda powdery and I don’t really have any other ideas

Planned for 2025 and beyond

Potato

Pineapple - White strawberries (pineberries)

Winter Root - Hopniss, a native root vegetable

Red Cabbage

Artichoke - Native Jerusalem artichokes

Yam

Bok Choy

Leek

Fiddlehead Fern - Ferns do not like me

Blackberry

Crystal Fruit - Probably honey berries, which produce fruit earlier than anything else

Ancient Fruit - Native Aronia berries. They’re blue(ish) and have lots of antioxidants so you live to be ancient

Tea Leaves - Native New Jersey Tea bush. The previous ones were murdered by rabbits

Mango Tree - I thought one of our pawpaws was a variety called mango but I was wrong

Ginger - I want to try growing native wild ginger again

Rice - Native rough-leaved rice grass

Wheat - I have some gorgeous ornamental blue wheat seeds

Summer Spangle - Possibly native prairie lily? I was unsuccessful growing it from seed this year but maybe in the future

Parsnip - I can’t get them to germinate to save my life but one day I will be successful

Sweat pea

Holly - Native winterberry holly

Mushrooms - I'm just gonna ignore varieties and try some plugs or similar

Peach - Vine peach. It’s a melon, and more doable than a tree

Mahogany Tree - I think I’ll resort to mahogany nasturtiums

Broccoli

Pomegranate Tree - I could try Russian pomegranates?

Taro Root - I would have to plant it in pots

Snow Yam - Not actually a yam but maybe native sweet potato vine?

Qi Fruit - Very creepy, not sure what to do with this

Over halfway there! If anyone has suggestions for plants please let me know because I’m still stuck on a few and very open to alternatives.

In other news, I’m making Stardew Valley Fair displays with cross stitch patches for each of the items I’ve added that year. I’ll have to post pics of those at some point.

[quibbs126]

So I ended up finishing the last two of the concept characters today, so might as well post them

They actually kind of have names, but I’m not sold on them yet. So for now, Radish/Turnip is getting called the mage, and Ophelia the girl/lady

To be honest, I think they turned out a lot better than the other two, but not only did I work on them in class, but their designs didn’t really require much changing or interpretation in the first place

These are the originals by the way

It’s only now that I’ve finished them that I notice that the mage’s skin tone and hair basically just looks like a yellower version of the lady, and meanwhile she looks like the orange/red version of theirs. But ah well, works with the color palettes

It’s mostly just details I simplified, though I think I ended up keeping more than I usually would, especially for the mage. But I think it ended up working fine. Though I do wish I had incorporated more ruffles into the girl, I just didn’t know how to when I tried

The girl already had colors in the concept art, and with the mage I had a particular color scheme already in mind to work with. I don’t know if the color scheme in particular matches the outfit they have, but I think it looks nice like that

Now these two actually have some amount of character in my brain, or at least the mage does, so let me talk about that

So the mage here, first off, doesn’t really have a specified gender. I did that because I personally just couldn’t decide. They’ve got big clothes that make their body hard to see, they’ve got a vegetable name that really doesn’t give away any gender (the party assumes initially that it’s a fake name, but they realize it actually is because they make note of the fact that they don’t really like it), have a generally ambiguous appearance, and don’t really talk much, and on top of that when they do, their voice doesn’t really lean one way or the other. And they don’t really care to tell what their gender is, so they sort of just get referred to as non binary. Whether they are or not, no one really knows. At this rate I feel like maybe there shouldn’t be any sort of gender reveal and they just stay like this

But anyways, so the mage here is supposed to be like a magical student of some sort, and they probably joined the party as some sort of university assignment, like a travel abroad sort of thing or like the Treasure Hunt in ScarVi. And as you can guess by the moniker, they are the mage of the group, though they specifically focus on offensive spells. They’re competent but not super overly skilled or anything, just a bit better than average

They may be quiet and introverted, but they aren’t meek or timid at all really. They just don’t like talking unnecessarily, and don’t really care about a lot of things. They can be a bit of an ass in all honesty. They really only have a game face during battle

Also one other thing in my brain is that they and the green guy have beef, they don’t like each other. I’m not really sure why, and it’s not for backstory reasons (at least not right now), they just don’t like each other

And I think that’s about it, now let’s move on to the girl

To be honest, I don’t have nearly as much on her. She strikes me as the plot important ally, the one you recruit that’s specifically tied to the villain’s overarching goal or some other big thing

But as she is, she’s a dancer, one that quite enjoys her job but isn’t experienced enough to be any sort of big star. She’s prone to wandering and can be a bit air-headed at times, but she’s also probably one of the peppiest members of the party, alongside the main girl. The two probably get along really well

Also, her battle role is “dancer”, which right now I’m taking to mean “healer”. Like she uses her dancing power to heal people somehow

Actually, I think that’s about all I have on her. That went by quick

So yeah, that’s the whole party. It feels uneven being just 5 members, I feel like RPG parties usually have 3, 4, or 6. There is this one last concept I saved, but I’m not sure I’m gonna use it

I might, but I also kind of just envision the group as is. Though I will admit it feels slightly bare, like there’s more roles to fill

Now all I need to do is compile them and put them in a single lineup. Then we’ll see how cohesive the designs are together. And what the height differences all end up being

Also they all need proper names

And so yeah

[arrowal]

Tomorrow is Another Day

[Chapter 3]

Summary: Wei Wuxian is bitten by a werewolf and battles with his new identity followed by his fears. Lan Wangji and the rest of his friends come to his aid.

_________________________________________________

Wen Qing was arranging a few of her limited supplies that she had recently picked up from the market in Yiling. Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning had recently gone down to sell a few radishes and other vegetables and only came back with a few medicinal herbs from their pay.

There was a soft knock on the door signalling the arrival of her most loyal patient. She sighed heavily.

“Come in.” Wen Qing called out.

The door to the tilted hut revealed the one and only, Wei Wuxian. Who sheepishly entered, closing the door behind him and making his way to an old stool.

“How is your wound? Any discomfort?” Wen Qing asks with a tilt of her head.

“Nope! Everything is just fine.” Wei Wuxian smiled, “Why? Are you worried about me?” He teased.

Wen Qing narrowed her eyes before making her way over toward her most troublesome patient. Lifting his sleeve to reveal bandages, in the past month it seemed to have gotten better. A normal cultivator would've healed within the first few weeks but given Wei Wuxian’s predicament, it would heal but would scar over.

She begins to unravel the bandages, revealing a gnarly-looking bite, the pus and redness had long since faded, but the bite was still evident. A definitive canine bite, whether from a normal wolf or a yaogui.

After hearing Wen Ning’s account on the events, Wen Qing had figured out that whatever had attacked Wei Wuxian was no normal animal. Certain animals tended to stand clear, especially if humans were involved. This was most definitely a yaogui but without the proper equipment, Wen Qing wasn't able to get the full extent of the wound so later it was decided to keep a watch on Wei Wuxian.

“It looks better, nothing out of the ordinary, then?” Wen Qing pushed.

“No, I told you. I'm fine, good as new!” Wei Wuxian scratched out his arms with a beaming smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

It’s been a full month since that night of pain, since it hasn't happened, Wei Wuxian believed himself to be in the clear but it frightened him. The full moon was approaching and he wasn't entirely sure if it was a one time thing or an everytime thing.

“Fine, just get out of here. I see you enough as it is.” Wen Qing sighed with a flick of her wrist.

Wei Wuxian laughed and got up from the chair, making his way to the door. “I’m fine, Qing-Jie! No need to worry.”

“I hope so.” And with that, he left the hut, leaving Wen Qing alone.

-

It’s been a few days since the checkup. Wen Ning and a few other Wen remnants, after being asked by Wen Qing, kept an eye on Wei Wuxian.

They didn't find anything odd besides the fact that he appeared more sensitive to loud noises or stronger smells. A-Yuan also appeared to notice, asking “Is Xian-gege alright?” or “Is he sick,” but nothing more. After explanations from the few Wens, he stopped asking.

Wen Ning, on the other hand, noticed a few small things. Wei Wuxian craved a bit more meat than he's letting on, he acts off in certain settings and his temper seemed a bit more delicate. He’s gone to his sister to inquire about his findings but Wen Qing brushes it off with a few excuses of it being his chosen cultivation but on the off hand, she’s also becoming concerned.

And one night, the night of the fullest moon, she has every right to be.

-

Wei Wuxian, after bidding the others goodnight, heads back to his own living space in the cave. A cave that was conveniently named ‘The Demon Subduing Cave’.

He lit a talisman and lit a few of the remaining candles. A few of them, the wax had already long since ran out.

Wei Wuxian stretched out his body and sat at the stone desk, grabbing ink and a brush. He began to work on a modified array on past projects that hadn't worked out quite the way he wanted. He would've worked on his compass but it was rather late and he didn't wish to work his brain too hard figuring it out.

The moon reached its peak, allowing rays of soft, bluish-white fill the cave. Wei Wuxian continued to work until his hand ached and it burned.

He quickly dropped the brush with a grimace and held his hand, looking at it as if it somehow had burned him, but he found nothing.

As the moon continued to rise, the pain spread from his hand to his entire body. He groaned and quickly stood up from his desk, clenching his stomach. It felt like throwing up, like being crushed by boulders, like being thrown back into the burial mounds and mending his broken body.

Wei Wuxian stumbled back, his body shifting in unnatural ways. Now, his bones truly were breaking and mending together, but not in the way it was supposed to be, not the anatomy of a human. His skin began to break apart as he fell to his knees, the skin breaking to reveal black fur coating his body.

This hurt, it hurt so much worse than anything he’d felt before. His face began to morph, his jaw snapping and growing in length to became the snout of the thing he dreaded the most. His body grew, his feet, hands, back, legs, everything in his body was snapping and growing.

He screamed in pain, alerting everyone, from the Wen remnants to the smallest of critters that lived in the burial mounds.

Wen Qing and Wen Ning rush into the cave, but Wei Wuxian is no longer to be found. Instead, a monster, who stood on two legs and growled threateningl,y stared at them with piercing silver eyes. Tattered robes lay strewn around the beast.

“Wei-Gongzi!” Wen Ning exclaimed in fear.

“A-Ning! Secure him!” Wen Qing shouted, “Now!” She said as Wen Ning hesitated.

The wolf lunged toward Wen Qing, who quickly dodged and backed up as far as she could. Wen Ning, ran to the corner of the cave, grabbing the same chains they had used to subdue him in when he had no awareness.

The wolf continued to lunge for the seemingly easier target, growling threateningly with his tail lashing out in anger. Wen Ning hesitated, before jumping into action.

Wen Qing backed up as far as she could, grabbing three needles from her sleeve and hiding them. Wen Ning only needed to subdue him with the chains, she could handle the rest by knocking him out cold.

Wen Ning was able to bring down the wolf, or rather, secure him long enough for Wen Qing to stick three needles into a point that knocked the wolf out cold.

The creature’s eyes rolled in the back of its head, and it stumbled forward before collapsing on the harsh floor of the cave. Both Wen Qing and Wen Ning, seemingly out of breath.

“Th-That was..?” Wen Ning muttered.

“Yeah, that was Wei Wuxian…”

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

🔆anon

Dialogue is hard.

— —

They were still waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

Skion: Is Orth coming back?

Skion wasn’t meant to sit in one place long. STYX had already tested his limit, and now Orth had told them to wait here but not for how long. Idy wouldn’t even let anyone play a game because everyone was supposed to go back to their rooms!

So now he was sitting on a, sadly not spinning, chair, and trying his best to fidget the hours away. Well, it’s at least been an hour, right?

Vil: Isn’t he your brother? It seems like you of all people would know if he’s coming back.

Vil was sitting on his own chair. He looked fine, but that was expected. Who knows how much waiting he does per day. Most of them were sitting, actually. All except Leona, who was lying down, and Idia.

Idy had taken to pacing and mumbling. Skion couldn’t hear extractor what he was saying, but it sounded like he was mad. Even though he’s the one who’s been insisting the most that everyone stay put.

Idia: He’s going to come back. Ortho isn’t the type to ditch. We just really need a talk on what he’s doing now. Random stuff like this is going to mess up the schedule. Ortho wouldn’t do something without a r-

Leona: Maybe the bucket of bolts got some error. Didn’t ‘ditch’ us, but he might not come back. Either way, I want that bed in the room you gave me.

Idia: Very funny, Leona. Ortho is far better than that.

Skion: Also don’t call him bucket of bolts.

Skion had gotten used to being called Pest, but that’s directed at him so it’s fine. And he’s heard Idy getting called Radish Sprout, but that one’s not offensive in anyway Skion knows. And it’s not like he’s against nicknames, but Orth can’t control needing life saving upgrades. Plus they’re cool.

Leona: Why not?

Skion: Because you shouldn’t stoop so low as to insult someone for something they can’t fix right? Especially something life saving?

Idy flinched beside him.

Skion: Idy?

Riddle looked up from the instruction manual he’s been reading and rereading.

Riddle: Life saving? Would that term count for a robot? I assumed it’s more giving life.

Skion: He’s not a robot. He’s still Orth.

Idy tried to step in front, blocking Skion’s sight of Riddle. Which might have worked…

Idia: Hey, I think it’s nice if we all just-

…until Jamil joined in.

Jamil: He’s not? He’s always introduced himself as one, just in more technical terms.

Idia: Why do you guys keep talking?!

Skion: That’s…

Azul: That’s how he introduced himself to me as well. Also, please excuse the question, but Skion, why do you say ‘Idy’ and ‘Orth’ while they say each other’s full names?

Skion: Because…

It’s not like he’s against nicknames didn’t notice it before, he wasn’t that oblivious. But they never drew attention to it, and who knows what happened while Skion was gone? They could have had infinite reasons to stop.

He’s never asked, but surely they had a reason.

Skion: Idy, why did you stop?

Idy refused to meet his eyes.

Skion stood up and walked over to his brother. His brother.

Skion: Idia. Why did you stop? How much of Ortho is human?

Still no answer.

The world started to run away. So fast it he couldn’t keep hold and the world drowned away. He didn’t even feel present.

Their names. The enchantments. What else was a lie? Their time helping him adjust back into this world? Their memories together? Their brotherhood?

His eyes registered a red glow bouncing off everything in his near vicinity. It was almost pretty. It also grew against Idia as Skion stepped even closer.

The foot steps were loud enough to pierce with nothing competing to hear.

Idia: Skion, I can ex-

Skion sent an uppercut to his jaw.

Skion: I LEFT TRYING TO SAVE HIS LIFE! FOR YEARS THAT WAS MY ONLY HOPE! I TOLD YOU ALL THIS! YET YOU LIED TO ME?! WHO HAVE I BEEN THINKING WAS MY TWIN?! I’VE BEEN BACK FOR MONTHS! WHAT ELSE?

He too a deep breath and turned his tone down to as deep and icy as he could go.

Skion: Are you even my brother?

He waited for a response, but he didn’t know why. He didn’t really want one. Probably would have hated getting one just as much as the silence.

Yet he still stared at Idia’s face. A mix of hurt and bewilderment stared back.

Skion didn’t even know if he felt sorry. That was his brother, right? He couldn’t tell. His chest and mind felt like a knot that he couldn’t even imagine trying to unravel. He wasn’t even capable of using the most basic terms to describe his emotions.

So as he finally noticed his eyes stinging, his vision blurred, and the water dripping down his face, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

—

Silence kept for a good ten minutes after Skion left. No one really knew what happened, even after he had shouted his anger. Well, maybe Idia did, but he was just as frozen.

Leona really didn’t know how a bit of teasing turned into this. Skion was a pest that had more to him, but that was something else. Him throwing a punch in the brother he’s done nothing but defend is something else.

Finally Leona was going to say something, but the Idia snapped back to. “You all- Just.” Idia pressed a button on the wall. “Stay put. A staff member will get you. And Vil, something is in your room, someone got it for you.”

Vil snapped back too. “Wait what-?“

But Idia had left. As Ortho had done. As Skion had done.

There was only one question left. And Leona was sure he wasn’t the only one asking it.

“What the h**l just happened?!”

— —

Didn’t come out exactly how I imagined it, but hopefully it works.

Big OOF.

[asp3nasu]

Fall protection?

Warnings: none

Synopsis: Girls constantly jump on you for seemingly no reason, maybe you cushion the fall? or the fact that you won't let them have physical contact with you is the reason? Maybe falling on you is just an excuse to get close.

Welcome to Pelicula del Diablo, English is not my first language.

─━━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━─

Over the last few days Hanako has noticed that Yashiro has been throwing himself at you, maybe he's been exaggerating his jealousy beyond even his illusions?

No, ghosts don't feel jealous. Right?

But whenever he decided to provoke Yashiro or intimidate her...

-Hanako stop it. - [name] says to me, arms crossed and an equally bored look on her face, already used to my teasing of Nene, but as I suspected, Yashiro starts to hide first, she clings to [name]'s arm as if her life depended on it, [name] looks at the radish in question, looking specifically at her hands, nails wrapped around Kamome's uniform. the girl continues to stare at Hanako while [name] turns her attention to the ghost as well.

-You perverted ghost! -the radish yells, tugging even harder on the girl's arm, as the girl pulls her arm free of Yashiro's small, precise hands. - Uh? - Yashiro looks at the girl, who pulls her arm away - she looks... sad? what the hell is going on?

But it wasn't just that day, it also happened to Aoi, while she was running away from Akane she almost took [name] with her down the stairs.

with his characteristic face back, [name] stares at me saying.

-What the hell did you come from? -She makes a little beak, and I close my face, my ears slightly red.

-I... I... -this place seems hotter than usual today -I'm keeping order, you're making a mess. -I float, lifting her off the ground, my hands on her waist, she pushes me away.

-Please stop snooping, both of you. - Both of you? Yashiro comes out from behind another bookcase, a little nervously scratching the back of her head.

- I can explain...” she mumbles and stutters slightly, her shoulders drooping more than usual.

[name] simply facepalms and sighs, saying that everything is fine, but he makes us all gather up all the books scattered on the floor, which we do with a little laziness on my part.

   So, the next day Yako was with Kou and Mitsuba, with me snooping around as I normally do, of course all for the good of the school. -Akane holds the girl's hands close as she helps her up, even helping her fix her dress. Akane tries to apologize to Miss Aoi as he calls her, but she just ignores him. What is it with girls these days?

-Ah, I'm fine Aoi-chan, you don't have to worry. -the girl smiles slightly awkwardly, one of her few smiles since her features are constantly angelic, I mean, well, her face looks neutral.

And as if that weren't enough, Sakura and Yako also constantly make things worse.

-I'm sorry [name] did you hurt yourself? -Sakura says, still lying on top of [name]. Like a good snooping ghost, I hide behind the bookshelves and watch as the scene unfolds. Arms braced to avoid hitting the floor, books scattered everywhere and Sakura with a satisfied smile hugs the girl who seems confused by the action. -I'm glad you're all right, I wouldn't have forgiven myself.

-Uh... it's okay, I'm glad the bookcase didn't fall on us, I don't care, I've been falling a lot this week. -The girl still smiles awkwardly Sakura with a small smile still satisfied I intervene.

-What a mess, [ name ] I need you to clean the toilets and... - I don't finish speaking, the girl says it first, Sakura now standing up

Yako jumps off the bench onto [name]'s lap, who quickly holds her, even a little frightened by the action. Was it normal for women to just throw themselves around? Was it a rumor or a ghost causing these actions?

I didn't understand, but I wanted to, so I asked Yashiro, who didn't help me with any information, just redness and shame pressing her further.

-I feel like I'm being held by a prince, you know? -she wiggles her fingers nervously- and it's so comfortable and safe, and for me as long as [name] doesn't get hurt it feels fine, plus [name] holds me and she's careful. you almost always just kill my heart. - I scoff, laughing a little.

- What about Minamoto? -I tighten his screws.

-Uh...hmm, o-o Minamoto.... -she blushes and tries to hit me but I float away- -Hey, Hanako, what's he got to do with it!!!

-I thought Teru was your prince. -I lean on the bathroom window, seeing how quiet and normal things look down there.

-It is! -[name] is my friend, but I feel that she's very quiet, she's kind and good to me and to other people, but despite this, sometimes she seems distant, but when I manage to touch her, the few times seem magical... - her words become sweet and fragile as she formulates her sentence, my eyes darkening.

Do you... think all that about Yashiro? Most people do, and I've never realized it's like they admire her. Even though I see her all the time... I've never seen myself like this, I admire [name], but... why does Yashiro seem to admire her more than I could in a long time? maybe touching her does that? feeling that she cares about Yashiro makes her admire her even more.

And if I could, if I wasn't a ghost, I'd touch her too.

ghosts can't be held, at least [name] can't hold me, I don't like to think about it, maybe I should find other ways for [name] to admire me and for me to admire her more, just like Yashiro... in time, I wonder if...

even if she can't cushion any of my falls and I can't avoid hers. I hope that one day I'll be able to say the kind words that Yashiro said to me here, to you [name].

[ashintheairlikesnow]

“What’s wrong with your friend?” For 5 sentence game

CW: Some frank references to dubcon/noncon, also Juliet is fucking calculated and I love her

Beringer's masterlist is here

-

"What's wrong with your friend?"

"What?" Juliet looks over her shoulder, blinking a few times, trying to figure out who in the hell Gina could possibly be talking about. There's at least a dozen people eating dinner in here already, and the other two dozen or so will come in on their own, stragglers fighting the wind cutting their cheeks and freezing their lungs.

"Who... who do you mean, Gina?"

She doesn't exactly have a lot of friends. She holds her bowl out while Gina ladles the soup into it.

It's been bubbling on the stove all day in a giant pot and smells like sheer heaven, slow-cooked pork with hominy and tomatillos and a pile of cilantro as big as her head waiting for everyone to decide what they want. Juliet looks down at her steaming bowl and adds cilantro, radishes, cabbage strips, a dollop of sour cream. The others add different things, and she thinks about how when she worked, she mostly just ate shit from the convenience store. Sometimes she was lucky enough to snag a tamale from the tamale cart.

Sometimes, her clients took her out to fancy dinner at restaurants that had four-month waits for reservations, but none of that food ever tasted as good as the tamale straight from a big plastic bucket, wrapped in corn husk, making her fingers damp and slick with lard and condensation, burning her tongue. Sometimes Romeo was with her and would buy her one with money he got washing dishes at restaurants, paid in cash with no question asked. He used to make more selling his mouth and hands, but he's got too many scars for that, now, he said. People want Romantics to look young and flirty and like innocence defiled, and it's hard to look innocent when half your face is a twisted line pulling your mouth to one side.

Still, he made life work.

She hopes, sometimes, that he's still out there, still making it work. But life expectancies for runaway Romantics aren't more than a couple of years, and he'd already outlived his by the time she met him.

She'd love to see him one more time, though. Those tamales, sitting on the curb with Romeo giggling over them with fruity jamaica soda fizzing up her nose, those were the greatest things she ever ate, the best times she had. Those tamales, and Romeo's good-natured cursing, tasted like home, like laughter and Christmas, in ways she isn't allowed to remember.

The posole that Gina makes, though, that brings memories, too. Headaches, sure, but lately she can get through the headaches, more and more.

Gina snorts. "Him," She says, gesturing with her ladle. Broth shimmery with pork fat drips off of it, unnoticed. She has tendrils of dark curls stuck to her forehead and cheeks and the back of her neck, where her heavy hair is swept up in something both like and unlike a bun. "That one. He's with you all the time lately."

Oh. Beringer.

Juliet shrugs. "He's not really my friend. He's the one that came in with the handler out in the shed. I've been helping him figure stuff out here. Might as well be useful before Brock notices I don't do shit around here."

"Brock's a softie, he won't make you do anything you don't want to do." Gina leans around Juliet to look more closely at Beringer. "Huh. Ophie said he was a daycare pet."

"He was, I think."

"Really? But he's..."

"Handsome?"

Gina smiles, slightly shamefaced. "Well... I just. He looks more like one of your kind, is all I'm saying."

Juliet snorts. "My kind. Right. The whores, you mean. The giant fucking sluts."

Gina turns bright red. "I didn't say that!"

"Thought it, though. Anyway, we're all good-looking, remember? It's part of the draw of the whole damn system. Get a pretty person to do whatever degrading shit you dream about with a smile on their face and a song in their heart." Juliet laughs without humor. Outside, the wind whirls snow past the windows. It stopped actually snowing a while back, but it's dry stuff, easily lifted by the breeze that whistles past the corners of every house. It races itself over the salted, plowed roads like horses hellbent on making it to the horizon.

"Well. Not everyone has to... you know." Gina's smile fades, and she won't meet Juliet's eyes as she says it.

Juliet lifts her chin. It's not her fucking fault, she reminds herself, that she only knows one way to get by. It's not her fault, she was made that way, and you can't blame someone for doing what they know. "Trust me. You might not have had to fuck them, but you still had to act like less than a person, and that's a kind of fucking, too."

Gina swallows, hard. Silence draws out, and then Juliet stomps away, over to the table where Beringer sits. The daycare pet watches the window, lost in his own mind, a cup of coffee long since gone cold in front of him.

"When's the last time you ate, huh?" Juliet sits her tray down a little too loudly, watching him jump in surprise. There are scars on him, too - she can see it on his hands, creeping up the side of his neck, just barely visible. He has more under his shirt, like cobwebs of dead skin.

"Wh-... oh, hi." His smile is brief, but gentle. She could see how he worked well with kids. There's no malice, in a smile like that. No aggression like the men at bars she'd pick up, no desire or demand like the more expensive clients who scheduled in advance. It's just a soft smile, easy as an older brother waking up for church on a Sunday morning so your mother won't know you slept in.

The little girl that's usually glued to his side is off in the play area in the big building where everyone eats, giggling through tag with another girl. One of the Domestics had come with a child in tow, too, unable to bear the thought of losing her. No one has asked if the child is hers.

Juliet wonders if she was a happy kid, when she was that age.

She'll never know.

"Hi doesn't answer my question, Beringer."

"Oh... uh. I don't know." He goes back to watching the window, and she sighs.

"He's not coming out of that shack any faster because of you making goo-goo eyes, you know."

"I know." Beringer leans forward, resting on his elbow, hand in his hair and palm against his forehead. "Rye says he's got a cough starting up. If helping me escape is what gets him killed-"

"Then it's exactly what he fucking deserves."

Beringer looks up, startled, at the flat, sharp edge of her voice. She watches his adam's apple bob as he swallows, sees the slight flare of whites around his eyes. "... Juliet. I told you, he didn't want to do it anymore-"

"Yeah, I hate to let you in on this, but that doesn't matter. Not even a little bit." She smiles to cut the sting in her words, but it doesn't work. His own eyes narrow in response. "Look. Just. You're still in it, I can tell, and it makes sense since you're so new at being out. But he's a handler, Ber. He was a handler, he's still a handler. You don't stop being a handler once you sign their fucking contract. We all know that."

Beringer's jaw works, but he only looks away, back to the window. "He's..."

"What? Nice?" Juliet laughs, bitter as raw chocolate. "Oh, sure, no doubt. Nice to you, you were taking care of his precious baby girl. But I bet he beat the shit out of someone else as soon as he got downstairs to the training rooms, or had one with a mouth on his cock and told the poor trainee it's breakfast. Handlers aren't nice."

"... he isn't like that-"

"They're all like that. You think it was just Romantic handlers who came to my training room to have their fun?" She smiles, and it's a grimace. A snarl. "God, no. I had to spread my legs for every kind of handler you can imagine. At least the Romantic handlers were fucking honest about it."

Beringer stares at her. He has beautiful dark eyes. The kind you could fall into. She can see why the handler out in the shed followed him here, brought him. She'd have done anything for those eyes, too, once upon a time.

"Stop," he whispers. "He was never like that."

"Guarantee he fuckin' was."

"You don't know him."

"Neither do you. Handlers go through fucking months of training, Beringer. They only keep the ones they know will do the dirty work, the worst sons of bitches, the worst bastards, the worst people on earth. I probably sucked fifty handler cocks in training, or more, and you know what?"

He looks like he'll be sick, and some part of her feels good at seeing one of the lucky ones realize what it takes to keep existing when you've been what Juliet had to be to survive. "What?"

"The only ones I saw wearing wedding rings weren't wearing them anymore a few months later. They can't stay married because they don't give a fuck about anyone but themselves."

"His wife-... Marc's wife hated what he did for work, she left-"

"She left? Lucky woman. You should be that smart. Take the kid, go to Canada, and let the handler out there rot. He deserves it. He let plenty of us rot, didn't he? That great good man out there? Looked the other way, probably did plenty of shit he isn't telling you about. While his little girl learned her ABCs upstairs, he taught one of us how to clean grout knowing they'd get shocked half to death if they ever paused for a single. damn. second."

Beringer's eyes go back to the little girl. She's stopped playing. She's watching a show about a cartoon dog, now, standing with a stuffed tiger crooked in her arm. "I-I don't-... know. I haven't really asked him... if he..."

"I know." She sighs, trying to soften her voice, and reaches out to lay a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I'm being really rude about this, but I swear, it's because I'm worried. If you let him take you to Canada, he'll just want to keep you, to use you. They just have people they want to use. He's using you, Ber."

"He's not." Beringer shakes his head, running his hand over his mouth. He's pale, haunted around the eyes. "He's not. He wouldn't have thought of it on his own. I... I talked to him for months, let him think I'd kiss him, made friends... flirted... did the things I saw them do on TV. I used him."

"Now you don't need him any longer." Juliet nudges his foot under the table with his own, until he looks back at her and she can give him her best wry smile. It's as much a performance as the flirty little grins she'd been so good at once upon a time. "So let him go. Thanks for all the fish, thanks for your baby girl, now go to hell."

"... Rye, he was Rye's handler. Rye said he was always so nice-"

"Right, sure. Bet he was. Then, once Rye knew how to count pills and give baths to old ladies and smile his face off, he sent him on to a house where he got the shit beat out of him by his owner's daughter over and over and over again until he ended up in the clinic four times in a year. Even when he's nice, he's not nice."

Beringer is silent for a long, long time. "What do I tell Mallie when she asks where her daddy is, then, huh? What do I tell her?"

"Tell her he died." Juliet shrugs. "He will anyway, if you're not here to vouch for him any longer. Tell her whatever the hell you want. She's not even old enough to remember you lied. She'll never know. She'll call you daddy after a few months, dad in a few years. You'll be the only father she ever knows. You can watch her grow up, knowing that he can't. Erase him from everyone who mattered to him. Just like they do to us. Take his life and make it serve your needs, what you want, leave him for dead when you're done, and once he's gone through all of it and died after, he'll have paid for everything he ever did to the rest of us who weren't you."

Beringer's breath catches. She thrills, just a little, whenever she lets a man see inside her mind and he looks that frightened afterward. She's never hurt a man in her life - but she's frightened a few, and it's always felt so good.

Romeo was never scared of her, though. He would just find some way to twist her idea and make it even more terrifying. They laughed all the time about the things they could come up with to have their revenge.

"Christ Almighty," He whispers. She's not even sure he knows he said it.

She eats her soup, delighting in the heat and lime and salt and spice, in silence until she's done. She stands to take her dishes back over to the pile of them next to sink, deciding she'll make sure she washes for a half an hour or so to help earn her keep, and pauses.

He's staring out the window again.

"You don't owe him anything." She makes her voice as calm and as gentle as she can. "Understand?"

He doesn't look at her, or answer, but she knows he's thinking about what she said.

Outside, the snow blown by the wind makes sure you can't even see the shack where that handler is being held. Only the fence, and the darkness beyond.

Right where every handler belongs.

[monochromaticwriting]

I'm still trying to do a Isaacul short, but I've been listening to this on repeat, and this idea won't leave my head.

The bed was far more luxurious than anything Isaac had ever lied in. It was massive and so soft. He sprawled across the furs, rubbing his face on them in a tipsy state. Dracul had spoiled him with quite the dinner. Swan, cooked with garlic and onions, served with; parsnip, cabbage, radish, and broad bean; tossed in some vinegar. Dessert was sliced and roasted apples and pears, coated in cinnamon and honey, served alongside a slice of tiramisu cake.

Pair it with the sweet wine Dracul had provided, and Isaac was very full and content. Speaking of Dracul, there was a set of claws running through his hair, making him melt more. His eyes crack open, yellow eyes meeting red. Isaac couldn't believe how different his life was now. Dracul had sworn to take care of Isaac, and he was delivering that promise, tenfold.

Dracul was such a strange man to Isaac. Shorter than his Lord Dracula, but much more muscular. He was soft spoken and quiet, but was a good listener. Not only did the vampire lord actually listen to Isaac, he also asked questions and encouraged the man to keep speaking! The pallor skin of the vampire lord highlighted the black hair that covered his chest, and made a trail below his pants. Isaac couldn't resist lusting for the vampire lord.

Dracul noticed this. Of course he did. Isaac felt those callous hands leave his hair, down to his chin, lifting his face to fully face Dracul. Despite those claws having taken lives, some of which Isaac witnessed first hand, he was so gentle with Isaac. Like the man was made of glass. Now facing the vampire, Isaac gave him a flushed face smile. Dracul simply smirks, downing the last of the wine in his goblet.

Dracul tossed the empty goblet, those ruby eyes never leaving Isaac's. Sitting up, Isaac lifted his shaking hands to Dracul's face. His thumbs traced along the vampire's cheeks, while a clawed thumb traced over his bottom lip. It was instinctive for Isaac to open his mouth, ready to accept the thumb in his mouth. However, Dracul had other plans.

Dracul leaned down, their mouths mere centimeters away, and opened his mouth. The wine from Dracul's mouth poured into Isaac's like a steady stream. Isaac swallowed down the wine obediently.

"Good boy." Was all that Dracul said, before their mouths met in a slow, but hungry kiss. Isaac could taste the wine on Dracul's tongue, his own tongue tracing along the vampire's fangs. He gasps as one of the fangs cut his tongue. Dracul moaned at the taste of Isaac's blood in his mouth. Clawed hands slide under his shirt, cold hands on his warm skin. Isaac gasps, but tries to match in fervor.

Dracul treated Isaac with such soft and gentle touches. Even as he stripped the man of his clothes, his clawed hands were gentle on Isaac's skin. They traced along his scars and tattoos, mapping out his body in a way that was just for Dracul. The morning was intimate, and unlike anything Isaac had ever experienced. In the back of his head, the image of grey hair showed up. He pushes it down and focuses on the pleasure Dracul was giving him.

As the sun was setting, Isaac woke slowly. He was aware of three things:

1. There was a muscular body behind him.

2. There was a strong arm holding him close to said muscular body, under the furs.

3. He felt warm and safe.

A genuine smile graced his lips, before his hand covered Dracul's and entwined their fingers together. He sighs, smiling at the light kiss pressed onto his neck, close to puncture scars. The siren song of sleep was calling to him again, so he happily met it, falling back into the dream world, filled with the vampire beside him.

[banjjakz]

bleed for me; hananene 5+1 oneshot

He’s amassed whole lifetimes of bad habits, and never has one felt more grievous than the way his lifeless body threatens to rise again after Yashiro launches herself off of him in mortified realization of their compromising position. A bad habit, thinks Hanako, watching his roommate flee away as he barely resists the urge to give chase. Predator and prey. A body drained dry. I’d take good care of you.

(Or: Five times Hanako is painfully, embarrassingly obvious about being a vampire -- and the one time he doesn't even need to be.)

wc: ~6.7k

warnings: vampire!au; horror elements; disturbing themes; graphic descriptions of blood & ensuing oral consumption; etc, etc

🖤 read on ao3 🖤

1. Garlic Bread

“I’m home!”

From his lax recline on the bed, Hanako calls out a lazy welcome back. He doesn’t get up because he’s far too comfortable watching old primetime reruns of ridiculous game shows, and also -- well. 

He’s a little unhappy.

Ah, maybe not unhappy. That’s a rather strong word -- sensation? Feeling? For someone who’s felt a lot of them for a very long time, Hanako isn’t the most adept at categorizing his own emotions. Let alone experiencing them. It’s much more convenient to acknowledge that something probably important is sounding off in his chest, and then leave it alone to run its course. Hands-off is always the way to go. Less messy that way.

But then, he’s forced to deal with complex situations such as these:

The lovely, strange, absolutely enrapturing human being whose life he feels lucky enough to occupy even just a small, miniscule part of -- flouncing into his bedroom, all bright eyes and wide-lipped smiles and rosy cheeks and limbs jittering in excitement at seeing him after a mere handful of hours spent apart--

And Hanako, whose cold, dead heart threatens to jolt back to life at the mere sight of her.

How odd. He wonders what it means, and then immediately stops doing that. Hands-off. Mess free.

“Hanako-kun!” Greets Yashiro, rushing to stand at his side, her stockinged feet thump-thump-thumping at the hardwood in a rapid, red-blooded pulse. Her hair flows freely today, which is unusual. Normally, she has it pulled back and away from her face, in one neat platinum sphere at the base of her neck. There’s a decorative clip or three in there, somewhere, too.

Where are those tonight? What happened to the disturbingly skull-shaped barrette? He likes that one. “Hanako-kun, look! For you!”

Oh, she’s holding something. He hadn’t even noticed. Upon closer inspection, it seems to be…

“A greasy paper bag,” Hanako deadpans. “How kind of you, Yashiro.”

She rolls her eyes, and stomps her foot. He can see the vibrant red of her painted toenails even through those dark tights she insists on wearing out everyday. These are one of her nicer pairs, though. No rips or runs in sight. Not even when Hanako scans her legs up and down and up again, just to check. Just to make sure.

Yashiro’s irate scoff sends his eyes scrambling very rapidly back to meet her own. “You’re impossible. You gotta guess what’s in- side the bag, dummy.”

“Radishes. No, wait, we already have plenty of those on hand.”

“Oh my God, I am literally going to kill you. Do you wanna die?” Hanako almost laughs. “Last chance before I change my mind and don’t let you have any!”

“Ohhh. Something I can have?”

Yashiro nods. Hanako tracks the movement of her jaw like a vulture circling a corpse, freshly splayed open and vulnerable and tantalizing with how red the blood, how plump the flesh, how easy it would be to sink his talons in and bare his teeth and--

“I have no idea,” he muses, “what that would be, then.”

“You’re so weird sometimes, Hanako-kun. Anyways, remember how I went over to Kou-kun’s tonight? Because he needed a taste-tester for his school assignments? Remember?”

Ah, and here he returns to the root issue of tonight’s predicament. Hanako is swiftly delivered back into the strange sensation of discontent that plagued him mere moments prior to Yashiro’s arrival. She’d distracted him -- as she is so often does -- from his brooding. 

Hanako remembers that he’s supposed to be brooding.

Hanako begins to brood. 

It’s a pitiful attempt, really, because Yashiro is hellbent on injecting the evening with her unique brand of excitable fanfare, and Hanako has never been able to put up much of a fight against her. He’s weak to the sun and all it’s gifts of brightness, after all.

In a last-ditch effort to save face, he manages to pout. Yes, this will show her. This will express to her his deep-seated dissatisfaction! 

“Hmph. I guess,” sighs Hanako, batting his lashes for good measure.

“Oh quit it. Don’t look like such a jealous puppy--”

“-- Excuse me--”

“--Especially ‘cause I brought you such a good gift! Look!”

And then Yashiro reaches into the bag and pulls out a slice of greasy, buttery, deliciously succulent garlic bread.

Hanako doesn’t even have the time to process her accusation of jealousy (which, hello? A little absurd if you ask him.) as he’s preoccupied with scrambling backwards to the opposite side of the bed, as fast as what will hopefully appear to be humanly possible.

“Kou-kun’s in the middle of his global unit in school, and he chose to make some Italian dishes, so I thought I’d bring home-- hey!! Where are you going!” Yashiro, clearly perplexed, pauses in her bubbly explanation. “Don’t be like that! I know you don’t like Kou-kun for whatever stupid reason, but really? He made it just for you!”

Of course he did, thinks Hanako, scathingly. He will deal with that overgrown menace of a mutt later, when his physical body is not in imminent danger and Yashiro is not growing steadily closer, brandishing the bread as though it were a sword, or rapier.

Oh, if only she knew.

Normally, Hanako would be elated -- ecstatic, even -- to see Yashiro crawling across his mattress, chasing him with a dark intensity in her eyes and a palm outstretched. But the issue here is that her palm, as sweet-smelling and milky soft as it looks and probably feels (Hanako wouldn’t know), is currently wielding a weapon of mass destruction.

He tries to placate her, or at least slow her steady advance, but it’s all for naught. “H-Hey now, Yashiro--”

He should throw her off. She shouldn’t even be in his home in the first place, let alone in his bed, but somewhere along the way Hanako had started making inappropriate, foolish, misguided allowances for this strange woman, and then he… never stopped.

Honestly? For a mistake as silly as entertaining a human of all things, he supposes he should go out in an equally as embarrassing fashion: death by sliced bread.

Yashiro is on top of him now, her thick calves bracketing the bony jut of his hips as she sits on his chest and leans over him, her cheeks incensed a bright and healthy rouge -- a mere few shades darker than those glittering fuschia eyes. Hanako can’t help but wonder just how red she can get; how much red she has to spare. How much red would be enough to burst her open and leak along the sides of her pristinely pale canvas like spilled acrylic in one big, gory, spattering mess. 

For two (definitely, totally, absolutely) mutually exclusive reasons, Hanako feels his stomach contract.

“You’re being ridiculous,” announces Yashiro from her perch atop his body, blissfully unaware of the fact that Hanako could very easily toss her clean across the city if he so chose. 

(Or maybe, it’s the fact that might know, and is unafraid of the prospect. As though she believes he won’t. Humans are such an arrogant, fickle species. He can’t say that he particularly misses being amongst their ranks.)

“It’s bread. Would it kill you to be agreeable for once and just take a freaking bite?”

Her heartbeat. He can hear it loud and clear even as he lays underneath the vice grip of her sturdy legs. Does she even know how fast her pulse rams itself against her veins? Like it’s begging to be rescued from the confines of that pretty, porcelain cage? 

Fuck. Fuck.

Hands-off. 

Mess free. 

“I’m allergic,” says Hanako, slowly, face blank and clean as a slate as he stares unblinkingly back up at his captor. “To garlic.”

There’s a curtain of shimmering white that cascades around the two of them, shifting to block out any and all extraneous stimuli. He should remind her to pick up some more bleach the next time she takes a trip to Daiso. It’s time to touch-up her roots again.

“Allergic,” she parrots.

The way her lips shape around the word, tasting it and rolling it around in suspicion, is captivating. In all his years of dealings on this earth never has Hanako followed a journey so gripping, so intense, as the way that Yashiro Nene’s mouth moves across a sentence. “Allergic,” she says again, flat and faint.

He’s just barely able to nod. “Deathly.”

“You’re deathly allergic to garlic.”

Time grinds to a painful, halting stop. The gradual slowing of the outside world is so acute that Hanako can track with his eyes the moment that Yashiro’s gaze flickers down to his cracked lips and the steady in-and-out of her breath is all but frozen in place. It’s excruciating, the level of detail he’s been subjected to bear witness to as a creature borne of blood and misery. He hates that he can hear her lungs rattle in suspense. He hates that he can name each muscle that goes still and locks solidly into place, anchoring around him in a rigid, tense embrace. He hates that he can smell her fear.

“Precisely. And you are straddling me. Are we done stating facts or would you like to continue on, Yashiro?”

It’s a bad habit he has, relying on humorous deflection. He’s amassed whole lifetimes of bad habits, and never has one felt more grievous than the way his lifeless body threatens to rise again after Yashiro launches herself off of him in mortified realization of their compromising position. A bad habit, thinks Hanako, watching his roommate flee away as he barely resists the urge to give chase. Predator and prey. A body drained dry. I’d take good care of you.

The crumbs in his bed dig into his skin and burn there, serving as a very stark, very physical reminder of his worst habit.

He’s already served his penance. Is currently serving it. Is slated to serve it for the rest of whatever conceivable eternity awaits him. 

So why, then, does his chest twist and ache with an ardor he thought had died with him, all that time ago? 

2. Reflection

The only reason he’d agreed to tag along was because Yashiro promised him that he didn’t have to speak if he didn’t want to. He isn’t much inclined to converse with random humans -- especially not over cheap, young wine. 

But this is, of course, exactly what he finds himself doing on a Thursday evening he would otherwise spend alone, holed up in his room, with his blackout curtains drawn to the side to bask in the glow of the full moon. Longingly, Hanako glances out of the large window he’d surreptitiously made a home next to immediately upon their arrival. Ah, well. Next month.

A round of boisterous laughter startles him out of his reverie. He chances a glance back to the sectional sofa in front of him and is greeted by the sight of Yashiro nearly doubled over in apparent amusement, wine glass tipping dangerously to the wayside. Her cheeks are speckled with the beginnings of a youthful pink. Unshed tears cling to her thin eyelashes. When she straightens up to catch her breath, she meets his gaze and allows her grin to melt into something soft and warm and entirely unsuited for the terrible, awful things that run through Hanako’s mind faster than the speed of light.

Having fun? She mouths discreetly, bringing the glass up to take another sip.

He nods, draining the red in his own grasp long and slow. It tastes like ash on his tongue. 

One of the other humans speaks, then. It isn’t the orange haired fellow who’d immediately struck Hanako as a sniveling, blindsided, spineless fool of a man -- no, it’s his wife, who’s entirely too preoccupied with asking questions about Hanako’s personal life for his comfort. 

“Hanako-san,” she begins pleasantly, gripping the wine bottle by the neck as she tops off his glass. Unprompted. “I’ve been wondering about something! Nene-chan is an Insta-freak, you know, right?” A what? “But you’re never on her page,” she continues with a pout, “And you aren’t tagged in any photos. Are you shy? That’s adorable!”

How can a woman speak so politely with eyes as cold as hers? They glitter at him underneath the fluorescent lighting of the living area, small and hard and blindingly bright, a twin set of enchantingly haunted jewels. Delicately, she tastes at the rim of her glass, and says nothing else.

Before he can conjure up a response that isn’t mood-killing and really little more than a thinly veiled threat, Yashiro pipes up. “Hanako-kun’s super off-grid!” She stresses, eyes wide, words comically over exaggerated as though she is delivering information of the utmost importance. “He has a very troubled childhood! He doesn’t like talking about it! So that’s why!”

“A troubled childhood,” muses the purple haired menace.

Yashiro nods solemnly, gulping another hit of her dry white. “Yeah! He’s got a bunch of weird allergies, too. Did you know that he can’t eat garlic? Not even garlic bread? Isn’t that so sad!”

“...Indeed it is. My condolences, Hanako-san.”

Right.

The evening doesn’t really improve from there, apart from Yashiro falling into his side after she gets a bit too wine drunk. Hanako can smell more than just the saccharine perfume she slathers on all the time; no, from this close, Hanako inhales and internalizes the scent of a robust, earthy musk, far richer than anything spritzed or patted superficially into the skin. Hanako can smell underneath her skin. Hell, Hanako can practically see -- can practically taste the delicacies hidden there, with how firmly she leans onto him. Would she still feel comfortable holding clutching onto his arm, if she knew the kinds of things he thinks about her? About doing to her?

They say good night to the amethyst wench and her sad excuse of a clueless human husband not long after that. The apartment isn’t far away and it’s too late to stumble into the car of a subway, so the pair of them trek home on foot.

A quiet night. The moon is as full as she is healing, and Hanako returns to himself a little bit more underneath her watchful, healing gaze.

“Now that I think about it… we really don’t have any pictures together.”

Although Yashiro has sobered up enough to stand straight, she still maintains a loose grasp on his arm. Her fingernails curl into the sleeve of his button down, a splash of bright, vivid red disappearing in the deep dark of a moonless night. Swallowed right up without a second thought. “Is it… is it because you’re embarrassed, Hanako-kun? Of, um… well. Do you not want to be seen with me? I’m sorry…”

He could break his own neck. He should. He would, if she asked him to.

“You own a Polaroid camera, yes?”

“Ah! You mean my Hello Kitty one? Uh-huh! Why?”

“When we return home,” Hanako says, like a fool, “We can take a picture.”

If he were a defendable creature, he’d point to Yashiro’s sudden and swift ascent into excitement as the justification for the latest manifestation of his long, long list of bad habits. Her strong ankles defy gravity and carry her as she floats on air, giggling as she skips the whole way home. Even as they make their way through the front door. Even as she must root around in her cluttered bedroom (that Hanako cannot follow her into, for obvious reasons). Even as she struggles to remember how to change the film, and inputs a decorative mascot-inspired roll, nicking more than a few of her pale, slender fingers in the process.

Even as she wades through darkness, Yashiro is so bright. 

The actual photo itself requires some set-up which eventually results in Hanako reversing the contraption unto them and pressing down on what he’s only halfway sure is the capture button. He assumes that he’s done well when a thin strip of glossy paper leaks out from the bottom and Yashiro swipes at it in a giddy stupor, remnants of the Riesling from earlier that evening rendering her sloppy and uncoordinated. 

“‘Kay, it’s gotta develop now… should only be a few more seconds! Will you keep it safe tonight? ‘M sooooo tired, and I really gotta shower before I pass out…”

Yashiro is already stumbling away, back towards her bedroom. She slips the rapidly lightening square in his palm as she slips back, lingering for one moment too long against the doorframe.

“Thanks, Hanako-kun. G’night.”

And then she is gone.

Which is probably for the best. The film has finally pulled itself from the murky depths of ambiguity. Hanako looks down at the picture in his palm and Yashiro stares back at him: her bold, red lips and silver-spun hair are two twin beacons of color, misplaced and incongruent within the impenetrable sea of blackness surrounding her. 

Where Hanako should have been instead lies a lapse in composition. The photograph is blank and undeveloped around his general silhouette. But that is not the strangest thing about the photograph.

The strangest thing is howYashiro leans into the darkness, unafraid of the way it spindles into her own boisterous portrait and slowly eats at the brightly hued pigments of her warm flesh, her pretty, frilly dress, her smile. That unerringly loud, human smile.

How long will it take, he wonders, before the shot is entirely eclipsed by that cold, dead void.

3. Sunlight

It’s a bad day before he even opens his eyes.

As a creature of indeterminate longevity and supernatural capabilities, sleep is not the necessity it once was for him. But he indulges, from time to time, when there’s little to do during the daylight hours. After all, he’s confined to his bedroom from sunrise until sunset. Pacing the perimeter of a lion’s cage grows tiresome, even to eternally patient apex predators such as himself. Much easier to force his body to shut down and pass the time for him, as his consciousness wanders aimlessly through the realm of a deep, dreamless slumber.

This day is not one of those days. This day is the peak of Summer’s cruel, tyrannical reign. This day is suffocating. This day is warm. This day is bright. 

This day maneuvers above and below and all around the blackout curtains that are always painstakingly drawn over his windows. This day leaks into his bedroom and weasels its way into his sheets, underneath his skin, scorching him from the inside out with such a ferocity that it renders him immobile. Every fiber of his being threatens to splice into terrifying, meaningless oblivion. 

When Yashiro first asked, Hanako told her it was migraines.

It was a vague excuse that pinpointed some rare, untreatable immune-disease that left him inexplicably weak to sunlight. Yashiro really should have been more persistent in hunting down the real truth -- the actual truth -- especially considering her occupation as an urgent clinic nurse. He considers the idea that it’s an answer she doesn’t care enough to unearth. He mulls over the alternative, which is that she is too frightened by whatever she may find to go searching for it in the first place. He then decides he’s done thinking about her. Today is torture enough.

A gentle knock at his door renders all of his efforts fruitless, however. “Hanako-kun?” Her voice filters easily through the heavy fog clouding his awareness, like a blade through slackened flesh. “You okay?”

She’s still standing hesitantly in his doorway, as though waiting for permission to enter. He’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so badly to do anything other than lay still and flat as a corpse.

He can’t afford to expend any unnecessary effort lest he wear himself out completely, so he goes for the most direct course of action:

Snakes his arm out of the big, black ball of sheets and comforter in which he’s coffined himself inside. Holds back a curse as he’s made aware of just how weak he’s become. Struggles not to drop his cellular phone when he finally manages to blindly locate it. Unplugs the device single handedly with tremorous fingers. Holds it out to the open air.

“Take this,” says Hanako, voice dim and tepid. “Dial the contact ‘Tsukasa.’ Give him this address.”

Not for the first time, Hanako realizes that he should be grateful for this human’s absence of curiosity. He has amassed plenty of bad habits in the past, all of them metastasizing entirely too close for comfort until he’d been forced to handle them in a way that had been entirely hands-on and the very opposite of mess-free. For Yashiro to wordlessly collect the cellular phone from his trembling grasp and do as she’s told is what he’d call a blessing, if he still believed in feats as fickle as faith. 

She is confused as she makes the phonecall. Hanako can hear the shift of her hair sliding past one shoulder as she tilts her head. He can feel the way her chest flutters in a muted gasp of surprise when the line connects after the first ring. She can’t be more than three or four feet away. Close enough for him to reach out and brush, with the pitifully pale pads of his fingertips. What a sight that would paint, muses Hanako, deliriously. Icarus and his glittering, lethal lover.

Time ebbs and flows and bends and breaks after that. He’s distantly aware that he drops in and out of consciousness. The hot wax slathering each of his limbs is an imagined thing, he’s sure, as is the sensation of free-falling to an anticipated, blunt death. These sensations are from the dreamscape that pulls him beneath its suffocating depths only to release him at the last second, in a cruel imitation of the sea and all her unfathomable terror. 

(He has not dreamt in so very, very long. It’s a bad habit.)

The final time he breaks the surface, he surges up against something -- cold. The kind of cold that forces his own to bow its head. The kind of cold that relieves him of his fever, and sends a violent chill through his body, all at once. The kind of cold one should only absorb in small doses, with limited contact. A once-in-every-three-decades kind of cold. That kind of cold.

“Hi, Amane! You look terrible!”

Tsukasa’s hand on his forehead is frigid enough that it loops back into the realm of burning. Hanako must gently bat it away and blink blearily up at the sight of his twin brother, just as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he always was. Always is.

“Hi, Tsu.”

“Hold still, ‘kay? I brought the bendy straws you like. All you gotta do is sip. Open wide!”

Obediently, Hanako parts his lips and accepts the flimsy piece of plastic. 

He tries not to think about what, exactly, it is that he’s doing. If he closes his eyes and holds his breath, Hanako can almost pretend that he’s being fed by different hands, in a different world, as a different person. 

“Hey, Amane?”

Gulp, shudder. Resist the instinctive gag that claws its way up his throat like a beast bending the bars of its cage. “Yeah, Tsu?”

“Why are you starving yourself?”

Eyes closed. Mouth shut. Another swallow. Hands-off. Mess free.

“You have food right there,” Tsukasa whispers. “Is there something wrong with her? Is she sick? Y’know, I’m not picky. If you don’t want her, I can--”

Hanako, with newfound strength, launches upright into a sitting position. What wonders a couple of mouthfuls can do. 

Oh, how to explain this. Oh, how to navigate his way through an intersection of muddled implications and unspoken subtleties, all of which will go right over Tsukasa’s head. How can Hanako pretend to be a creature of innuendo and self-control, when his biggest, most glaring lapse in judgement sits across from him in the damned den of his own design?

He struggles for a moment, running a tired hand down his face. “Yashiro is a -- friend.”

“A friend?”

“Yes,” confirms Hanako, desperately avoiding Tsukasa’s curious gaze. “And friends don’t eat friends.”

The words are slimy and leave a bad taste in his mouth. Well. Maybe the words themselves aren’t what lingers at the back of his tongue and stains his teeth. But they are odious, nonetheless, and hang in the air like empty nooses dripping down from a gallows.

“Friends don’t let friends starve,” is Tsukasa’s counterpoint. “If it were me, Amane, I’d let you. Even though you already did, I’d let you do it again. I’d always let you.”

Hanako has never understood why Tsukasa refuses to cover up the twin bite marks that marr his jugular. Is it to punish him? Is it not punishment enough, that Hanako has to see his face at all? 

When his brother grins at him, it cuts like a knife. Hanako remembers a time where those cheeks stretched wider, when those eyes glistened with something other than black ice. Tsukasa plucks the bendy straw out of the cup and drinks straight from the rim, tossing his head back to give Hanako full view of the way his throat opens and closes around the infernal contents. 

He can’t stop staring at the scars: two lone stars fixed in an empty, pallid, apocalyptic sky.

The younger boy is sated only when the cup has been drained dry -- and even then, he pants, exhilarated, pupils blown large and dangerously obsidian as they flitter back and forth as though in search of more, more, more. 

Why are you starving yourself?

He’d always been a messy eater. His baby brother, Tsukasa. Tsukasa who loved Katanuki. Tsukasa who loved to paint. Tsukasa who still loves to paint, but now works solely in abstract monochrome. Tsukasa, who paints himself over and over and over again until he’s dripping, covered head-to-toe in a masterpiece of his own design. Tsukasa, who licks his canvas clean at the end of each night only to start anew in tomorrow’s dangerous twilight dusk. Tsukasa, who collects victims like portraits.

Tsukasa, who had once been a portrait himself. Hanako, who held the brush in his hands and created something freakishly beautiful that wretched, awful night.

Why are you starving yourself?

He feels full enough, watching Tsukasa pass his tongue over his chops. He feels like he’ll never need to eat again.

By the time his brother makes his departure, the sun has long since sunk beneath the horizon. Hanako’s room is once again as it should be: a thick, inky fog of opaque black. It’s so dark, in fact, that had he not been what he is, he would never have spotted the slight gap between his door and its frame, where a slender figure lingers in apprehensive wait.

Yashiro is checking on him, he realizes belatedly. 

Why are you starving yourself?

“Good night,” She calls, softly. “I’m about to head out for a double.”

“Be safe.”

“‘Course! I always am… I hope you feel better soon, Hanako-kun.”

He couldn’t have this if he ate like an animal. He couldn’t have Yashiro -- sweet, gentle, lovely Yashiro -- living alongside him as he devoured bodies made in her image. Already, Hanako struggles with what his baser instincts urge him towards… to give into those temptations would be putting her in danger. 

His door clicks quietly shut. His room is bathed in the cover of night once more.

Left alone to his own devices, the beat begins to roam its cage. A growl sounds, low and deep and mortally wounded. Not from his throat -- but from the very pit of his stomach.

Resistance is one thing, but ignorance, however feigned, is quickly ruled out of the realm of his personal possibility. There is no disregarding the sensations that fester inside of him. There is no course for his desires to run. There is only the ugly, maddening truth:

Hanako is hungry.

Hanako needs to put his hands on something.

Hanako needs to make a mess.

4. Silver

“Promise rings!”

“... Excuse me?”

“N-Not in a weird way, or anything like that!” Stutters Yashiro, fumbling with the miniature wooden box in her shaking, manicured grasp. “They’re just little cheap ones. I saw them on display at the mall, and I couldn’t just not… plus, do you even know what day it is?”

Hanako raises a brow. “Enlighten me.”

“It’s our six-months-as-roommates-a-versary!”

“Wow.”

“I’m really happy you recognize the importance here, Hanako-kun. Now stick out your hand so I can put yours on! And then you do me!”

If he didn’t know any better, Hanako would wonder how Yashiro gets anything done with those delicate fingers of hers. They’re as soft-looking and malleable and enticingly peachy as the rest of her, topped off at their gracefully tapered ends with a neat coat of ruby red. They dance along everything they touch, nimble little ballerinas hopping from pose to pose, commanding rapt attention wherever they leap. 

As his own hand raises to meet hers, he must fight the urge to clench into an ugly, defensive fist. 

The first touch sends something like electricity ricocheting down his spine like lightning through a weather vane. She is so gentle. How can she be so gentle? How can she be so round-edged and rosy-cheeked and expect him to just stand here, wordlessly, with nothing to do or say about it? How can she live in his house for six months and celebrate, rather than mourn? How can she look at him, a creature innate to unsightly presence and habit, and say to herself: this is something worthy of care.

The second touch is just as unnerving, but for all the wrong reasons.

“I thought you said this was cheap,” grits Hanako, exhaling sharply through his nose as the silver ring slides slow and meticulously down the length of his finger. 

Yashiro pauses, eyes narrowed. “Is it not? How can you even tell?”

“A-allergic… !”

To her credit, she’s properly mortified. Yashiro almost falls all over herself  to wrench the offending piece of jewelry off and away, apologizing profusely as she studies the burn wound on his middle finger. Her mouth twists into a tense little knot. Hanako wants to smooth it out.

Instead, he follows her obediently into her bathroom after she tells him to come inside and sit his ass down on the toilet -- which he does, sheepishly.

“I can’t believe -- oh, God, I’m so sorry, Hanako-kun… Just, hold still okay? It’s only gonna hurt a little, I promise.”

It’s an injury that would’ve long since healed itself by now, if he were in any other state than the one he currently occupies; which is to say that he’s rather unhealthy. Which is to say that the rats and possums and other small rodents he guiltily entraps in the alley behind the house do nothing besides sate a momentary desire. Which is to say that it is impossibly difficult to keep himself aware and conscious and disciplined enough not to careen head-first into Yashiro’s exposed clavicle and unhinge his jaw and feel his skull shift to accommodate the extra layer of fangs and sink his claws into her perfect, supple hips and feel her go paralyzed with terror as he--

“Okay! All done. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.” It’s a pretty bandage. Pink and bright with tiny dancing radishes along the perimeter.

“I really am sorry,” mumbles Yashiro, encasing his frigid hands with her own, squeezing and rubbing with her soft thumbs. “I don’t ever want to hurt you. You’ve always -- you’re always so kind to me, all the time, and it just seems like… well, I don’t know. Lately I feel like I just never know how to help you, Hanako-kun. I feel like I just make things… worse. So can you promise me something?”

“Anything,” says Hanako, unblinkingly, because blinking is a sign of dishonesty.

“You have to tell me when you need something. Or when you don’t need something. Or when you -- uh, well, I really want you to be honest with me. Okay? Can you promise me that? Because it makes me really sad that you struggle with… a lot, and there’s not so much I know about how to help. So, please? Do you promise? To be honest?”

“I promise,” says Hanako, unblinkingly, because blinking is a sign of dishonestly and also because he can’t close his eyes without seeing her body splayed out in the bathtub behind her, limbs limp and gore overflowing past the rim and into his eagerly awaiting mouth. In this fantasy, he uses his tongue to follow the carmine droplets bulleting down the porcelain edge, licking and slurping until he reaches the source of the mess, the heart of the storm, the original inspiration to all his reverence. He would take his time. 

(Or would he lose himself? Would it be hands-on? Would it be messy?)

“Thank you for trusting me. I trust you… with my life, you know. Maybe it’s naive, but I hope one day you could do the same.”

He can’t touch her, not right now, even though she looks like she’s about to shake apart at the seams. All Hanako can do is watch from a safe distance, and wonder. And want. And ache.

As always.

5. Blood

She comes home early.

Hanako has only just padded his way into the kitchen when he hears the front door unlock. Is it that time, already? No, it can’t be. Yashiro usually arrives when he is just settling in to go back to sleep. She brings with her the pale light of a budding dawn, and although Hanako regrets their sparse interactions and conflicting schedules, he’d rather not disintegrate into a pile of ashes atop the living room couch just because he felt like saying welcome home, honey.

Tonight is different, apparently. A cursory glance thrown over to the microwave clock reveals that it’s only a few minutes past the witching hour. And despite there being a total absence of sunlight when Yashiro opens the door, Hanako still falls to his knees in a sudden onslaught of unadulterated agony.

His vision turns spotty, only worsening as Yashiro rushes inside and screams at the sight of his crumpled body. “Hanako-kun? Oh my God! Oh my God, can you hear me?”

Barely, is what he wants to say, but can’t. His throat is too tight, too dry. His mouth begins to salivate at an alarmingly disgusting rate. 

That smell.

Pathetically, he crawls over to her on his hands and knees, body running on autopilot as it drives him towards the source. Hanako can feel his body shift and transform with the pavlovian response he’s developed over the decades -- an instinct borne out of the memory of a chase, of a hunt,of warm flesh twisting and stretching and tearing underneath his capable grasp, of muffled screams and kicking legs and the eventual, gradual descent into permanent stillness, of hands scrabbling desperately into dirt, into pavement, into carpet, as they scream his name and beg him -- no -- no, stop -- what are you -- Hanako-san--!

Blood. But, not just any kind of blood. 

Fresh, human blood.

Six months is a very, very long time to go without food.

The scent wafts from the messenger bag thrown haphazardly over Yashiro’s shoulder. Hanako claws weakly at it, burying his nose into the worn fabric and moaning in relief at the contact. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, breathy. The debauched soundtrack of his own muffled desperation would embarrass him, probably, if he were cognizant of anything other than the metallic tang filling his nostrils.

The last thing he remembers is Yashiro running her fingers through his hair, shushing him quietly. 

And then it all fades to black.

“Oh, Good. You’re awake!”

Hanako gets about halfway through a sarcastic reply before something is shoved past his lips. Something… familiar. Something -- bendy?

“Drink up,” huffs Yashiro, pushing the straw more firmly into his mouth. “You’re lucky we had a contaminated batch of bags today. I-it’s still safe to drink, though! Or at least… I hope… tell me if it tastes funny, okay? Jeez, Hanako-kun… I didn’t know you were so hungry! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?

His lack of a response only propels her onward. 

“Well… I know you don’t like to talk about it… I’m sorry if this is making you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t just sit and watch you waste away--”

“You knew?”

“... Um. Was I not supposed to know?”

“You knew,” Hanako repeats numbly around the plastic in his mouth, dumbfounded. “This whole time, you knew.”

Unimpressed, Yashiro raises an eyebrow. “That you’re a vampire? Duh. Allergic to garlic? And silver? And sunlight? I’m not stupid, and you aren’t nearly as slick as you think you are, mister.”

 The chuckle she gives after this quickly peters off into something more melancholy, a little bit darker in origin. From where she’s perched on the couch, leaning above him to adjust the straw’s positioning into the medical packet on his chest, Hanako can see the sorrow, there, in her big, doe-like eyes. 

“You never brought it up… and I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries! I’ve never, erm, done ‘this’ before… if you couldn’t already tell. But since you never said anything… I just thought that, I don’t know? Maybe my blood wasn’t good enough to drink, or something like tha--”

“That is absolutely not the case.” 

He’s quick to cut her off. Too quick. “Far from it, really,” he attempts to joke in an effort to lessen the intensity of the blow, but the damage has already been done. Yashiro’s hand freezes around the blood bag, her eyes flitting up to lock onto his own. 

It’s unfairly attractive, the way her blush blossoms across her face. Hanako takes a long drag from the straw and swallows, never breaking his stare.

“I would… definitely be okay. More than okay. With doing -- ahem. That.”

“Drinking,” supplies Nene, so quietly that Hanako reads her lips more than he hears the charged word spill from her pink, glistening tongue. “You’d drink from me?”

What a question. Oh, if only she knew.

“Sure,” he hums, easily, “as long as you promise not to bring home anymore garlic bread. Especially not from that mangy mutt.”

“Hey, that isn’t very nice! Kou-kun isn’t… wait. You’re… you don’t mean…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my god. That’s why you don’t like him!”

“His pack leader really, really hates me. Heh.”

“You know, you probably shouldn’t look so pleased about that.” She says, with a fond smile. Hanako wants to taste it. 

On his next sip, he’s met with an ugly slurping sound. Normally, the fact that he’d sucked down a pint of blood in less than five minutes would be cause for concern. But his circumstances are not normal. His circumstances haven’t been normal for quite a good while, really, and Hanako can’t bring himself to think about it too hard. Not when his worst bad habit is within arms’ reach; not when she’s digging into her bag and procuring another packet of blood for him to puncture with the blunt end of his straw.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, awestruck.

“And I’ve got seven more where that came from! So just take your time, okay? No rush. I’ll stay here and make sure you get your fill… I promise.”

Hanako thinks he will hold her to that.

+1: Feeding

This is nothing like the first time, which is what he’d originally been terrified of. This is nothing like the second, or third, or fourth or fiftieth or hundredth time.

(How could it be? How could having her pliant and wanton underneath his capable grasp be anything other than pure ecstasy?)

Before he takes the plunge, he -- has to warn her. Again. Just in case she’s changed her mind. “Last chance,” Hanako breathes into the fleshy meat of her, the aroma of pumping blood doing unspeakable things to his mind. “This is your last chance to back out, Yashiro.”

She’s pretty as a portrait, the way she shifts and wriggles underneath his body reminiscent of the melding of a varied color palette coming together in one grand, epic composition. 

But he’s about to stain her in monochrome. 

“Don’t be gentle,” Yashiro gasps, dragging his hands to hold her down. “I’m not afraid o-of a little mess.”

You should have been, thinks Hanako, mournfully, as he paints his first stroke of bright, brilliant red.

[pbandjesse]

We really got a lot out of our Saturday. We lived so many lives. And I am so excited to be horizontal. We both have blisters on our feet and are way to much at dinner. But it was such a wonderful day.

I struggled to fall asleep last night. But it wasn't terrible sleep. I woke up a few times. But Jess let me sleep while she got up and got dressed. I appreciated that.

When I woke up at 8 I would take a quick shower and got dressed. I felt cute. My hair looked great this morning but would get wild from the humidity and fog outside. That's alright. I was feeling pretty good. Not terribly nauseous. I was in a good mood.

We went for breakfast at Uncle Bill's pancake house. And it was a nice walk over there. We got sat right away and the food was very good. But man did my stomach hurt. I seem to be back to only being able to eat half of meals. But I enjoyed people watching and seeing the fog outside and talking to Jess.

We made a plan for the day. After breakfast we would go get Jess a coffee and then walk through the Octoberfest market for a preview for later. Then we would go back to the car to drive out to the farm. And then when we got back we would go to the beach.

And this ended up being such a lovely morning. Breakfast was good. The walk back was a little tough. But it was fine. My thighs hurt so we would pop into the hotel to put Jess's leftovers in the fridge and I could throw some shorts on under my dress. It was 100% the correct choice and made me way more comfortable.

The farm was barely 10 minutes away. And it was so precious. We would park and there were chickens running around everywhere. We would look through the farm market. Jess and me would pick up a few things before we left. Jams and things. But first we went to feed some pigs some turnips and radishes. They were so cute. Stinky but cute.

On the walk out of there I found a snake sticking out of a log! A grey rat snake. It was such a good find.

We walked around the gardens and it was so pretty. They were getting ready for a wedding to do there was some set up for that happening and it was so cute.

We went back to the farm store. Where I found an adorable green tree frog. I wanted so much to share him with others and I stopped an older couple to show them and they were so excited and it made me feel so good. Such a cute little froggie.

After we got our little treats we went to feed the chickens. They had quarter machines for feed and so Jess got her little handful of feed and let the chickens eat out of her hand. They only picked her a little. She was so happy and it was so cute.

We left there and headed back to the hotel to get changed for the beach. And it was still foggy and grey but warmer. And it was perfect for most of the first hour we were on the beach. I would go run in the water up to my knees. The storm last night made the current really strong so it was a bit to dangerous to actually go in it but this was fun.

I read a couple chapters of my book. Jess had her book too. And eventually I would lay out a towel and lay down. But the sun came out!! And it was so hot.

Jess went back to the hotel to get sunscreen. And I'm glad she did because the sun was a bit intense. It was also a little hot. So around noon we packed up and decided to go sit in the pool back at the hotel.

This was awesome. I'm so glad we got a hotel with a pool. No one else was there. And it was really cold but we got used to it pretty quick and just enjoyed sitting on the steps and talking and it was great. One of the owners of the place came over and chatted with us about Octoberfest. We said we were going to go over there after the pool. And that's just what we did.

I noticed that Jess was starting to get a little red. And we both ended up with some sunburn. Her on her arms and chest and me on my back. But it's not to bad. Just a little uncomfortable.

We got back inside and showered and got dressed to go over to the market. And it was great.

We would walk straight through the festival first so we could go to the fancy ice cream shop Jess liked last time we were there. And on the walk there I saw someone eating a soft pretzel with mustard and a diet coke and I was like. That's what I want. I need that.

So after ice cream (Jess got honey lavender) we went to find the pretzels and I was so happy. It was everything I wanted.

And we went to buy my teddy bear a new dress. And it turned out it was from the same lady I bought his other dress from like 8 years ago. So cool. And she was a really nice guy.

It was pretty busy and hot. But it was really fun. I really enjoyed my time there and looking around. But we would both get pretty worn down in the sun. So after I got a sticky bun parfait, we headed back to the hotel.

When we got back here we would strip down and put the AC on and we were both so overheated and exhausted. We had enjoyed walking around and looking at the houses but I ended up with a blister on the top of my foot and I had to take my sandals out to walk back for most of the walk. And when we got back here I just felt really bad. I tried my best to cool off. Braided my wild hair to get it off my neck and out of my face. And we would lay down.

I fell asleep for a bit. And we would watch TikToks and chill for a few hours.

And then around 6 we got ready to go to dinner.

We would go to the fancy marina place we went to last time we were here. Where Jess had gotten oysters. And it was just so ridiculously pretty as the sun went down. Everything around us smelled so good. The only real issue I had was our waiter sucked. He just never checked on us.

Jess's margarita was incredibly weak but he never came back so she walked herself to the bar. Our appetizers were great. I got a whipped feta and pita and she got oysters. Including their fall blueberry ones which were very fancy. But then there was a full half an hour before our mains came out. And they were not amazing.

My salad was super wet. Jess's muscles were small and sandy. But at least the fries were good. But he never came back to check on us. And when he finally dropped the check it took almost ten minutes for him to come back to get it. It was just so weird.

But I still had fun. We were just both overly stuffed and ready to go back to the hotel and lay down.

And that's just what we are doing. My stomach hurts still but I will sip some water and hopefully it'll calm down soon.

Tomorrow we are going to an antique store and then the zoo. I'm excited. I haven't been to this zoo since I was a kid and I had really positive memories of it so I hope it holds up. I also just hope it's a fun day. And then we will go home.

I miss James a lot. And I'm really glad this has been such a lovely trip but I'm glad it's short. I miss my husband to much.

Now though it is time for rest. I hope you all have a great night. Sleep good.

[stardewspellshed]

Stardew Correspondences: Summer

Foraging

Grape (can also be grown during fall)- intoxication, infatuation, abundance, prosperity.

Spiceberry- acceleration, aggression

Sweet Pea- calm, peace, serenity, fragrance (figurative). Could be used in a literal sense to invoke effects from spells that you would cast with perfume in a physical setting.

Crops

Blueberry- multiplication, abundance, wealth.

Corn (can also be grown in fall)- longevity, endurance

Hops- glamour ingredients, intoxication, dependence

Hot Pepper- intensity, acceleration, a spark. Power enhancer for spells in general.

Melon- luxury, abundance, happiness, contentment.

Poppy- sleep, intoxication, death.

Radish- absorbing energy. Useful in storing power for wards, absorbing baneful magic, etc.

Red Cabbage- awakenings, seeing the true nature of things, breaking illusions/glamours/bindings, etc.

Summer Spangle- energy, vigor, excitement

Sunflower (can also be grown in fall)- sustainability, continuations, seeking positivity. Can be used to represent the sun.

Tomato- hatred, loathing, detestation, repulsion.

Wheat (can also be grown in fall)- an abundance, blessings, may you never be hungry literally or emotionally. Can be used to represent the element of earth.

Fishing

Catfish (in Secret Woods pond, can also be found in spring, fall)- storms both literal and emotional,depression, misery, drowning in sorrow. Useful for cursing and storm magic.

Dorado- representation of the season of summer itself.

Flounder (also found in spring)- unusual solutions, thinking outside the box

Halibut (also found in spring, winter)- to see the truth, to cut through artifice or glamours

Octopus- intelligence, awareness, sociability, cleverness

Pike (also found in winter)- irritant, annoyance

Pufferfish- don't touch that, repellent, barrier

Rainbow Trout- pride, enthusiasm

Red Mullet (also found in winter)- domesticity, companionship, close bonds

Red Snapper (also found in spring, can spawn while using a Rain Totem in winter)- childhood memories, nostalgia, comfort in the past

Shad (also found in spring, winter)- changeability, malleability, to manipulate the odds in your favor

Sturgeon (can also be found in winter with use of Rain Totem)- luxury, wealth, abundance, success after a struggle

Sunfish (also found in spring)- drawing things in, accessibility, easing burdens

Super Cucumber (also found in fall, in night market submarine)- magic, magical power, magical inspiration. Best used as an ingredient to strengthen other spells, or kept on hand while trying to create a spell.

Tilapia (also found in spring)- taking time to restore yourself, vacations/staycations, relaxation

Tuna (also found in winter)- being noticed, impactful first impressions, someone with a large personality.

Crimsonfish- dignity, nobility, putting on airs. Could perhaps be used to represent. a pompous person in specific situations.

[restorebalance]

(MOSTLY) RAW VEGAN DETOX | DAY ONE

this morning I woke up excited but also a little bit grumpy. I get irritable when changing habits or taking away anything that I find comforting. (years ago, when I gave up coke zero, I thought I was going to end it all. I made it through, but it was like my mood dropped off a cliff and into the depths of the ocean where no light reaches anything for two weeks straight).

lucky for grumpy me, today I still had to go shopping for fruits and vegetables so I got to eat my usual breakfast of toast and coffee.

right now I feel dehydrated, a little bloated, I have dry skin, dry eyes, dry mouth, I've been a little irritable, craving sugar, jittery, and have had no/low appetite. hoping all of the vitamins and minerals I'm about to eat will help cure some of this, I went grocery shopping. *these few days are going to be mostly raw. I'm still drinking coffee, and using things like almond mylk, rice paper, quinoa, and a pesto I already have in the fridge that has cheese in it. THE LIST -almond mylk -bananas -zucchini -cucumber -red onion -lemons -arugala -romaine -tahini -radishes -coconut aminos -avocado -rice paper -bell peppers -maple syrup -garlic -frozen blueberries -carrots -peanut butter -quinoa THE MENU -blueberry smoothie (frozen bananas, frozen blueberries, almond mylk, peanut butter, maple syrup) -"studio" salad (I got the recipe from a yoga studio + my sister and I just call it "studio salad". greens, avocado, quinoa [w/ lemon + garlic], radishes, carrots, red onion, tahini dressing [tahini, coconut aminos, lemon juice]) -pesto zoodles (zucchini, roma tomatoes, pesto, avocado, cayenne pepper) -spring rolls (rice paper, sliced cucumber, carrots, radish, avocado, lettuce, tahini sauce [tahini, coconut aminos, garlic, seasoning]) -potatoes (if I want something cooked besides quinoa, I'll make some of the oh she glows potatoes and have them with salad)

THE PREP -make baggies of smoothie portions -chop salads the night before -make batch of dressing -make batch of sauce -make dinner night of -make batch of quinoa

meal one: (pre-shop + prep) slice of toast with peanut butter + and mushroom coffee. annnnnnd an apple fritter at the grocery store. yum.

meal two: pesto zoodles + water. I did 1 zucchini, 1 roma tomato, ~2TBS of pesto, 1/2 an avocado, + a dash of cayenne pepper. I mashed the avocado into the pesto to make a creamy sauce and tossed it all together.

meal three: as I am writing this, I have not had meal three. I'm still fairly full from the zoodles and I went out for ice cream with my husband. we will see if I get hungry enough this evening for a meal three. *UPDATE* I did not end up eating a meal three. I snacked and went to bed.

snacks: yasso mango yogurt bar. more coffee. (always).

reflection: day one went very well. I didn't have a raw breakfast and I don't know if it was because I was anticipating feeling good later in the day or not, but I felt extra dehydrated and low energy after my toast. (it's not the best breakfast obviously, but if you've read my posts you'll know I have disordered eating and I'm nervous to eat large amounts in the morning since I have to be out the door for work asap.) lunch however was DELICIOUS. pesto zoodles are so fresh and filling. it took me a little bit to finish the whole bowl. I felt full but not stuffed which I was very relieved about because I hate the feeling of food in my stomach. I didn't feel as nauseated throughout the day, and I noticed my stomach wasn't burning as much as it usually does because I will under eat.

DAY ONE | 3.5/5 because I did not eat all three meals + because I did experience a little bit of irritability.

[windhorsetravel]

Cultural Tour in Bhutan: A Spiritual and Timeless Experience

A cultural tour in Bhutan is not just a holiday; it’s a journey into the heart of an ancient Himalayan kingdom that has preserved its traditions, values, and spirituality through centuries. Nestled between India and China, Bhutan is renowned for its living heritage, serene landscapes, and the unique philosophy of Gross National Happiness. For travelers seeking authenticity, spirituality, and a deep connection to a nation's roots, Bhutan cultural tours offer the perfect escape.

A Nation Steeped in Culture and Spirituality

What sets Bhutan apart from many other destinations is its unspoiled cultural identity. While many countries have undergone massive modernization, Bhutan has carefully balanced development with tradition. A visit here allows you to witness age-old Buddhist rituals, interact with locals in traditional attire, and explore Dzongs (fortress monasteries) that stand proudly amid misty mountain ranges.

Bhutanese Architecture: A Walk Through Living History

From the moment you land in Paro, you're welcomed by timber-framed homes, artistically painted windows, and carved wooden balconies—a signature of traditional Bhutanese architecture. Structures like Punakha Dzong, Tashichho Dzong, and Paro Rinpung Dzong serve both religious and administrative purposes. These grand complexes are alive with monks, prayer chants, and ceremonial gatherings, offering you more than just a sightseeing experience—it's a cultural immersion.

Festivals of Bhutan: A Burst of Color and Faith

One of the highlights of any cultural tour in Bhutan is attending a Tshechu, a vibrant religious festival held in honor of Guru Rinpoche. These festivals are celebrated with masked dances, colorful costumes, and spirited community gatherings. Popular ones include the Paro Tshechu and Thimphu Tshechu. Locals believe that attending these festivals brings spiritual merit and good fortune.

These events aren’t staged for tourists—they are part of the Bhutanese way of life. Joining in gives you an intimate look at Bhutanese spirituality, values, and joy.

Dress Like a Local: Gho and Kira

During your cultural holiday in Bhutan, you’ll notice that most locals wear their traditional Bhutanese attire every day. Men wear the Gho, and women wear the Kira. These are not just costumes; they’re a matter of national pride. By law and tradition, Bhutanese people wear these outfits in schools, offices, and temples. Many tourists also enjoy trying them on for a more authentic experience, especially during festival days.

Food is Culture: Exploring Bhutanese Cuisine

No cultural exploration is complete without tasting the local food. Bhutanese cuisine is flavorful, often spicy, and centered around rice, chilies, and cheese. A must-try dish is Ema Datshi—a fiery stew made of green chilies and cheese, often referred to as Bhutan’s national dish.

Other traditional items like Phaksha Paa (pork with radish), Jasha Maru (spicy chicken), and Red rice offer you a taste of Bhutan’s culinary traditions that have been passed down through generations.

Craftsmanship and the 13 Traditional Arts

Bhutan takes great pride in its Zorig Chusum—the thirteen traditional arts that include weaving, sculpting, painting, woodcarving, and papermaking. A visit to the National Institute for Zorig Chusum in Thimphu lets you see students learning these skills by hand, just as their ancestors did. You can also visit local handicraft markets to buy handmade souvenirs like woven textiles, traditional thangkas, and Buddhist sculptures.

Spiritual Sites and Monasteries

From sacred caves to cliffside temples, Bhutan’s spiritual landscape is unmatched. The crown jewel is the Tiger’s Nest Monastery (Taktsang Palphug), perched dramatically on a cliff 900 meters above Paro Valley. The hike to this revered site is both physically rewarding and spiritually enriching.

Other must-visit religious sites include:

Kyichu Lhakhang – one of the oldest temples in Bhutan

Gangtey Monastery – overlooking the Phobjikha Valley

Bumthang Valley – the spiritual heartland of Bhutan

Local Experiences: Homestays and Village Life

If you truly want to absorb the Bhutanese way of life, consider staying in a local homestay. This gives you a firsthand experience of daily routines—helping cook meals, chatting with the family, or participating in morning prayers. Rural villages like Haa Valley, Ura, or Lhuentse offer breathtaking landscapes and untouched traditions.

You’ll leave with not just photographs but meaningful memories and possibly lifelong friendships.

Why Choose a Cultural Tour in Bhutan?

A Bhutan cultural tour offers you more than sightseeing. It’s a transformative experience that opens your heart and mind to a lifestyle rooted in contentment, compassion, and community. You don’t just observe Bhutanese culture—you live it, feel it, and carry a piece of it with you long after your journey ends.

[nursingwriter]

¶ … Anatomy gall bladder disorders, with background information for the first page, and then homeopathic treatments on the second page. Must be alternative treatments to surgery, drugs etc. (ex, diet) The gall bladder is a small, pear-shaped organ nestled beneath the liver. It stores treats the bile from the liver, and then dumps the bile into the intestines. Gall bladders can suffer several disorders, such as gallstones, gall bladder sludge, infection and inflammation, and even cancer. Some symptoms of gall bladder disorders include nausea or vomiting, pain in the upper abdomen or between the shoulders, abdominal bloating, continued intolerance of fatty foods, and gas and/or indigestion (Comforth). Patients may also notice a fever, or slight jaundice (yellow skin or whites of the eyes) (Bartel). Gallstones are the most common form of gall bladder disorder, and usually are the cause of at least 80% of gall bladder disorders. Usually, there are always stones present in most gall bladders. However, when the stones move, and block the cystic duct, which is the main artery out of the gall bladder, problems occur. This is when the gall bladder cannot remove the bile, and it builds up inside the gall bladder with not outlet. Eventually this can lead to other complications, such as inflammation, infection, and even bursting of the gall bladder. Gallstones often form as a result of the liver releasing toxic bile, and gallstones occur in about 80% of gall bladder cancer cases (Bartel). An increase in cholesterol or a decrease in metabolism can also lead to the formation of gallstones. Patients are often obese, and more women get gallstones than men do. Usually the patients are 35 to 40 years of age (Editors 335). Sediment can also form in the gall bladder, and clog it so it does not work effectively. Large amounts of fats and/or oils can help contribute to sludge, as can stress. There are many treatments for gall bladder disorders, such as drugs and surgery. However, many holistic remedies, such as diet and acupuncture have been found to help ease disorders of the gall bladder. Many holistic practitioners recommend slowly cleansing the gall bladder to aid symptoms. Cleansing consists of a slow removal of toxins and sediment in the gall bladder, and lasts about 21 days. During the cleanse, patients should avoid high-fat foods, along with meats, dairy, and eggs. The patient instead should concentrate on unrefined grains, vegetables, fruits, and legumes to help clear the gall bladder. There are also certain foods that help remove gallstones, they include: pears, parsnips, seaweeds, lemons, limes, and turmeric. Radishes are also quite helpful in removing stones, so the patient should eat 1-2 radishes a day between meals and drink 3 cups of cleavers tea or 5 cups of chamomile tea a day throughout the 21-day cleansing period. In addition, the patient should pour five teaspoons of cold-pressed flaxseed oil over their food during one meal to help aid the process (Vickery). A gall bladder purge is a one-day treatment for more severe cases. The purge begins in the morning with the patient eating only organic apples, at least 5 throughout the day. It has been found that green apples help soften the stones more than red. The patient can also drink water an/or herbal teas. At bedtime, warm 2/3 cup of olive oil to body temperature and mix in 1/3 cup of fresh lemon juice. The patient should slowly sip the entire mixture, and then go immediately to bed, lying on the right side with the right leg drawn up. In the morning, all gallstones should pass in the stool. This flush should be done under the guidance of a holistic practitioner (Vickery). To maintain good gall bladder health, experts recommend removing fats from the diet, along with spicy foods and alcohol (Editors). There are many treatments available through acupuncture too, which involve finding the right area of the body that influences the gall bladder, and treating that part with needle placement and herbs. Acupuncturists believe the gall bladder is quite important for good health. They believe, "This psychological trait of the Gall Bladder influences the Heart, as the Mind (housed in the Heart) needs the support of a strong drive and courage given by a strong Gall Bladder. In this way, a deficient Gall Bladder can affect the Mind (of the Heart) causing emotional weakness, timidity and lack of assertion" (Maciocia 27). Thus, there are many ways to treat gall bladder disorders that provide comfort and relief for the patient. References Bartel, Kent R. "Gall Bladder Symptoms." New Hope Health Clinic. 2003. 3 Dec. 2004. < http://www.newhopehealthclinic.com/gall_bladder_symptoms.htm Editors. Van Nostrand's Scientific Encyclopedia. 3rd ed. Princeton, NJ: D. Van Nostrand, 1958. Comforth, Tracee. "Symptoms of Gallbladder Disease." About.com. 2004. 3 Dec. 2004. < http://womenshealth.about.com/od/gallbladder/ Maciocia, Giovanni. The Foundations of Chinese Medicine: A Comprehensive Text for Acupuncturists and Herbalists. Edinburgh: Churchill Livingstone, 1989. Vickery, Carol. "Gall Bladder." Tao Herb Farm. 2004. 3 Dec. 2004. < http://www.taoherbfarm.com/herbs/resources/gallbladder.htm > Read the full article

[dumbassdungeonslime]

Me and a friend were talking about how if you put celery in coloured water, the leaves would change colour. I didn’t think that was true but we looked it up and it was. As such, we came to the next logical step which was to take a bunch of glasses of water and put various vegetables in with red, blue or pink water, (since we’d notice those colours more.) we did broccoli, cress, half a cucumber and a leek to see what’d happen.

As expected, the ones with thinner leaves looked more like a different colour and now my house smells weird from leaving greens out for a week in old water.

However, we did find something interesting out, one of the items was very different from when we started in more than just colour. It’s leaves had gone crumbly, easy to pull off but also very soft and easy to smear. I think it’s because we used paint to colour the water, but it doesn’t matter, because the point is that it works now as an easy and fun way to make blue food (Percy Jackson style. I haven’t read those books.). After a while, I ran out and started another batch, because the type of paint I used got absorbed by the plant, it did away with the bits that tasted bad and just left a lot of colour in the leaves. I now had a cupboard of coloyred leaves for whenever I wanted to spice up a meal.

My friend, though, found that radishes worked nicely for this too. I didn’t think they would but apparently they do, they take in the coloured water, filter it a little and the leaves change colour, the bulb does too. Thing is, my friend has a much better access to veg and stuff to experiment with and it’s a bit of a thing between us now. So my friend dyes radish, leek, lettuce, cucumber and so on.

But I dye cress.

[40sandfabulousaf]

大家好! The rainy season is well upon us, thus, it's time to hang up my Anta cap, a purchase I'd forgotten to share about, until we're once again into the hot season. I love their sports bras, gym pants, tees, shorts, bags, shoes and, also, caps! Pretty soon, I'll be adding socks to the list because that's their next product that I want to buy and try. Nights are getting chilly here, and I need to keep my feet warm. Anta is the brand I increasingly turn to for apparel and accessories aside from office wear. Their products are value for money - durable, functional, high quality - and come in classic, sleek designs.

I was about to pay for a pack of sushi at the local supermarket cum food hall when I caught a whiff of deliciousness. Browsing through the hot food section, I noticed jiao zi (dumplings). The cashier said this was mo yü jiao - cuttlefish dumplings - so of course I had to try them! She was kind enough to inform me that there's a microwave in a corner if the dumplings weren't hot enough. Each pack contained 10 steamed jiao zi and accompanying sauces. In order to cut down my salt intake, I ate them plain. They were delicious! Bouncy bits of cuttlefish dotted each bite and the dumplings weren't too salty. I finished them in record time!

I eat tofu regularly but not legumes and lentils in their original form unless they're prepared in a way that's palatable; I don't like their starchy texture. After watching videos of Palestinians proudly sharing their meals of a small piece of flat bread, a small quantity of veggies or olives and spices, and sometimes mashed up legumes or lentils, I decided to eat some. Who am I to be so choosy when choice is a luxury to them? Lei cha (ground tea rice), famed for its bright green broth made from ground mint, basil, seeds and tea, is 1 of our healthiest local dishes. I chose the version using chickpeas in place of rice at the stall near the office. Apart from chickpeas, there were anchovies, peanuts, green beans, cabbage, carrot, preserved radish, choy sum, tofu and peanuts. Honestly, it wasn't bad after mixing everything up. Most importantly, I felt more compassion for the Palestinians after eating this.

There was a downpour during lunch break this week and we craved hot soup. CY, ML, MI, SC and I revisited the coffee shop where the stall selling delicious tom yum goong is housed. I made a beeline for the stall. As I sipped piping hot, spicy and tangy broth chockful of fresh bouncy prawns, tender fish, tomatoes, oyster mushrooms and red onions, my mind wandered back to the Palestinians in Gaza. It's winter in the war-torn strip. Whilst some can cook hot meals with the aid they receive, the amount of food isn't enough. Many of them are at risk of starvation. How many can enjoy a comforting, nourishing and steaming bowl of soup? At that moment, I felt very grateful for what I have. I was perspiring by the time I finished my meal. Even better, I didn't need to wear a sweater or have a thick jacket covering my legs after lunch. Spicy food is a godsend when I'm trying to keep warm.

I've bought plant-based luncheon meat so in my next post, I'll share short clips of Palestinians in Gaza cooking chicken luncheon meat. I'll also share about another plant-based product which I purchased. There's too much turmoil in the world right now; if there's something we can do to promote peace, we should. Israel has been a friend to my country for a very long time and to speak out like this against them is painful. But just as one would tell a good friend, 'Bruh, what you did is wrong, man', I have to highlight what they're doing wrong. Let Palestinians live, let them thrive and if they still cause trouble, I won't speak out for them. For now, whilst many of them are dying, I cannot in good faith take Israel's side. 下次见!