sake carafe

anonymous asked:

42

“For the hundredth time, I’m not your babysitter,” Leith growled, her eye twitching in annoyance as she tipped back the carafe of sake to take a deep draft.

The teen objected immediately, “But Lady Leith, I don’t want to go al–”

“Call me ‘Lady’ again and I’m going to break this pitcher over your skull,” she threatened, brandishing the bottle she just emptied threateningly at the girl. Leith hadn’t the slightest idea where the adolescent got the idea to call her that, but she was going to nip it in the bud right the fuck now.

Cheeks puffing indignantly, the teen gave a sigh and tried again in her proposition, “Lad–” at Leith’s scowl, she hastily corrected herself, “Miss Leith, please come with me to the– t-the–”

Her face blushed bright pink.

Leith rolled her eyes, praying to some sort of deity–any god please–to give her patience. “The lingerie shop?” she finished for her. Loudly.

The patrons of the bar stilled to a hush at the announcement.

Flushing a crimson so deep it could have allowed her to blend into a barn wall, the embarrassed girl gave a quiet nod.

“Fucking hell, do you want me to hold your hand?”

Another Story, But About Mom...

See…
I was like

Eleven at the time and in the deepest throes of my embarrassing weeaboo stage, which meant of course I was begging my mom to take me out for sushi.

So we go get sushi, sitting at the sushi bar.

Now this sushi bar has regulars. Super friendly.

My mom is a social butterfly and she starts chatting with this lady, and the lady is all “WELL IF YOU’RE EATING SUSHI YOU NEED TO DRINK SAKE!” And buys a carafe for my mom

And it’s hot and sweet so she assumes it’s like
Tea
Or something
So she’s drinking
And drinking And chatting

And making friends. I’m being my quiet eleven year old self

And fifteen minutes pass and I’m being ignored. Noticing this, the lady is polite and inquires about me

To which my mother replies, after her second carafe of sake, “This is my daughter… Um… Donna.”

And continued talking. Five more minutes pass

And she realizes I’m staring at her with distress and she asks what’s wrong because I am just staring at her with wide eyes and a shakey lip, like…. CLEARLY SOMETHING IS WRONG.

“My name’s not Donna!” and she stares at me as realization dawns on her that she just called her daughter by her sister’s name. To this day, my family will tease me and start calling me Donna.