#aciu

hi lion!!! heres a random snippet that i am determined to work in somewhere:

Wangji used to eat baby carrots when he was young; his mother always kept some in the fridge when he came over. He still recalls clearly the first time he ate them without her, having convinced Uncle to purchase some on his latest grocery outing because they were a vegetable and therefore healthy—the method of eating he always used, taking one bite from each to order them on his plate wateriest to sweetest, and then systemically devouring them so he would eat the sweetest bite of carrot last and have it lingering in his mouth after.

Uncle saw him take one bite and put the carrot down, take one bite of the next and put it down, and said, “No playing with your food.”

So it was—after she died, Wangji never saved the best for his last anymore. He ate what he could as it touched his palette, heedless of flavor. He learned to be grateful for what was there instead of rearranging it to his liking. He got what he got and he didn’t get upset.

He missed his mother, and her knowledge of his specific oddities, her acceptance of them. But he became stubborn in other ways, later. Stolid and determined. He would not sway from routine once set. This was how he survived losing her: order, predetermined for him. This was how he lost her a little more every day: order, predetermined for him.

this one is fucking fighting me bc ive been in a writing slump lately & also bc lwj pov is like.... fundamentally horny. *points at my asexuality* no help from her!

(and have an extra excerpt i put on twitter here)

Vilnius hosted its final futsal match this evening with the Iberian derby that is Spain v Portugal, and it didn’t disappoint. The first half was fiery and fascinating, but somehow goalless - Spain were especially culpable, missing an open goal and then failing to score from the penalty spot. Three minutes into the second half however, Spain found their shooting boots and went 2-0 up, but Portugal dragged it back to 2-2, much to the delight of the mob of fans below me. They were by far the biggest, noisiest, most passionate group I’d seen and didn’t stop singing/chanting all night, so I was pleased that their boys got back into the game.

Extra time beckoned, at which point I was all for penalties, but I got the next best thing which was two Portuguese goals to put them into the semis. The red-and-green brigade went bananas and I allowed myself a little smile at my efforts in Lithuania. As I had hoped, a strong end to the tournament meant the harrowing memories of the first few days faded. We packed up lickety-split and got back to the hotel in plenty of time for me to prep for the flight home tomorrow, though not before getting an infotainment group photo: