#i just know he makes soup with his bone broth or something that will make me so much better

[listening505]

in so sick rn i wish he could take care of me

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

something i love about the soup scene is how many little details are COMPLETELY RECONTEXTUALIZED when you know what she's planning. things you wouldn't even question.

harrow is pacing and jumpy in the kitchen: she's understandably on edge from repeated attacks and lack of sleep -> she's worried someone will walk in on her and realize what she's up to

harrow panics and adds "a great deal of water" to the soup at the last minute: harrow has no fucking idea how to make soup -> she's worried the bone marrow will be more detectable if the broth is too thick

john tries the broth, sets down his spoon, and takes a "discrete sip of water": the soup sucks because harrow has no idea how to make soup -> john knows there's bone marrow in there and he's just waiting to see what she's going to do

harrow flinches when augustine makes a comment about confessing before they find a finger in the soup: harrow is sensitive about her shitty soup -> harrow literally put her own bone marrow in the soup and that comment has her severely on edge

harrow uses all of g1deon's least favorite vegetables: she fucking hates that guy -> she needs him to drink as much straight broth as possible because she is going to kill him with the broth

it's just. such a good scene. it's such a completely different scene when you read it for the second time.

[fictionally-driven]

In Sickness and in Health - Part 1

Pairing: Jiyan x f! reader, Scar x f! reader (Separate) Plot: Some headcanons on how WuWa men would take care of a sick f! reader followed by a small plot on them finding the reader to be ill. trigger warnings: illness, caregiving, nausea, vomiting, unconventional remedies, predefined relationships, mentions of pregnancy (no one is pregnant!) , pet names

AN: Part 2 will be Mortefi and Calcharo, Part 3 will be Aalto and Yuanwu. Inspired by @local-x-reader 's work - Flowers for me?

JIYAN

Headcanons:

Ever since you and Jiyan started dating, his medicinal gourd has become your personalized first-aid kit. Allergies bothering you? He has antihistamines at the ready. Monthly menstrual woes? He stocks up on the best menstrual products and painkillers. Prone to migraines? He never forgets to carry tablets. Jiyan is always prepared to care for you at a moment’s notice.

Jiyan's keen senses pick up on your illness before you even realize it. The slightest change in your behavior or the faintest hint of discomfort doesn't escape his notice. He's there with a gentle hand on your forehead, a soft question about how you're feeling, even before you can put it into words.

Jiyan's cooking skills come in handy when you’re feeling under the weather. If you have stomach problems, he’ll make something light and easy to digest like a soothing broth or plain rice with some gentle herbs. If you’re suffering from cramps, he’ll whip up a meal rich in omega-3 fatty acids, such as a salmon dish or chia seed pudding. For colds, his go-to is a hearty soup filled with anti-inflammatory ingredients like turmeric and ginger. His cooking isn't just delicious; it's a heartfelt remedy tailored to your needs.

The General in him takes a backseat when you're sick, letting the compassionate medic take over. Jiyan becomes incredibly attentive, constantly checking on you, ensuring you're comfortable and have everything you need.

Jiyan is always on top of everything when it comes to taking care of you. He keeps track of your medication schedule, making sure you never miss a dose. He adjusts the room temperature to your comfort, brings you extra blankets, and even stays up late to monitor your condition. If you have a fever, he gently wipes your forehead with a cool cloth, and if you're nauseous, he's there with a basin, ready to hold your hair in place while calming you down with soothing words.

To brighten your day, Jiyan will bring you a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He knows how much you love them, and their presence always brings a smile to your face, no matter how ill you feel.

Returning from your latest mission, you could feel every step weighing heavier than the last. The water you had drunk during the mission had left your throat feeling like sandpaper, and a fever had begun to creep up on you. But this was a busy time for everyone, and you couldn't afford to show any weakness. You pushed through, ignoring the throbbing in your head and the chill settling in your bones.

Jiyan was away in Jinzhou for some official business. You didn’t want to bother him with something as trivial as a cold, so when your Pangu terminal rang, you straightened up and forced a cheerful tone.

"Hey, Jiyan!" you greeted, trying to mask the hoarseness in your voice.

"Hello, love," Jiyan's voice came through, warm and comforting. "How was the mission?"

"Exhausting," you replied, attempting a laugh that came out more like a cough. "But nothing I can't handle. Just really tired, you know?"

Jiyan’s keen senses picked up the strain in your voice. "Are you sure you're just tired? You sound a bit off."

"Yeah, yeah, just tired," you reassured him, forcing a smile even though he couldn’t see it. "I’ll be fine after a bit of rest tonight."

"Alright," he said, though his voice carried a hint of doubt. "Make sure you get plenty of rest. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Of course. Talk to you soon, Jiyan."

You ended the call and sighed, leaning against the wall for a moment before pushing yourself off to file your mission report. The sooner you finished, the sooner you could collapse into bed.

You were slower than usual as you prepared the report, almost dozing off in between. What would usually take you an hour, took you three this time. As soon as you filed the report, you pushed yourself off the chair, ready to greet your bed. The sky was littered with scars and you could hear the chatter of the Rangers who were allocated to the night shift. By the time you headed towards your allocated room, your vision was starting to blur with fatigue and fever. You barely registered the figure waiting by your door until you got closer.

"Jiyan!?" you whispered, shocked to see him standing there with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Before you could say anything else, Jiyan closed the distance between you and placed his palm against your forehead, his expression shifting to one of deep concern.

"You’re burning up," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?"

"I didn’t want to worry you," you mumbled, leaning into his touch. "You have so much going on already."

Jiyan shook his head, slipping an arm around your waist to support you. "You’re my priority too, love. Come on, let's get you inside."

He guided you into your room, helping you sit down on the edge of the bed. Setting the flowers aside, he went straight into medic mode. He placed a cool cloth on your forehead and fetched a glass of water.

"Drink this slowly," he instructed, holding the glass to your lips. "We need to keep you hydrated."

You took small sips, feeling the cool water soothe your parched throat. "Thank you, Jiyan," you murmured.

He smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You don’t have to thank me. I’m here to take care of you."

Jiyan then moved to unpack his medicinal gourd, pulling out various items. He gave you some fever-reducing medicine and an antihistamine to ease your symptoms.

"Here, take these," he said, handing you the pills. "And I’ve got some soup cooking for you in my quarters. It’s got ginger and turmeric—good for fighting off infections."

You nodded, taking the medicine obediently. As you settled back against the pillows, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for his presence. "How did you get here so fast?"

"I took the fastest route I could," he replied, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "I knew something was wrong when we talked. I couldn’t just stay in Jinzhou knowing you were unwell."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached out to take his hand. "You’re amazing, you know that?"

Jiyan chuckled, bringing your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. "I just care about you. Now, rest while I finish up the soup."

You closed your eyes, feeling the fever slowly begin to abate under his care. The scent of ginger and turmeric soon filled the room, and before long, Jiyan returned with a steaming bowl of soup.

"Here you go," he said, sitting beside you. "Careful, it’s hot."

He fed you spoonful of the warm, nourishing soup, and you could feel the effects of it.  "You didn’t have to come all the way here," you said, feeling tears prick at your eyes

"Of course I did," Jiyan replied, his voice softening. "I can’t focus on anything knowing you’re unwell. Never think you're a bother to me," he continued, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter despite your condition. “You mean everything to me," he said softly. "I hate seeing you like this."

"I’ll be okay," you assured him, reaching out to take his hand. "Especially with you here."

He squeezed your hand gently. "I’m not going anywhere," he promised. "I’ll stay right here and take care of you."

As you finished the soup, Jiyan continued to fuss over you, making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed. He brought the flowers closer, their sweet scent filling the room and lifting your spirits.

"These are beautiful," you said, admiring the bouquet.

"I thought they might cheer you up," he said, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"They do," you said, feeling a surge of affection for him. "You always know how to make me feel better."

"That’s because I love you," he said simply, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I love you too, Jiyan," you whispered as you laid down, your eyes feeling heavier by the minute. "Thank you for coming back…" you said, your voice heavy with sleep.

"I’ll always come back for you," he replied. “Every time.” You felt his lips brush against your forehead as you closed your eyes. And with that, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, knowing that as long as Jiyan was by your side, you’d always be well taken care of.

SCAR

Headcanons:

Despite his chaotic nature, Scar is utterly obsessed with you. If you so much as sneeze, he’s immediately by your side, eyes wide with concern and hands hovering as if unsure where to start.

The first time you fell sick, you didn’t expect Scar to be so devoted. His usual unserious demeanor disappeared, replaced by a palpable worry that made his antics seem like a distant memory. Even with just a simple migraine, he insisted that you see a medic, his anxiety clear in every word and action.

He constantly checks in on you, whether through calls, texts, or physically being there. He needs to know you’re okay, and his concern manifests in frequent, albeit endearing, interruptions to your day.

Scar is relentless in his encouragement for you to rest and take it easy. He’ll do everything in his power to ensure you don’t overexert yourself, including taking on your responsibilities.

Scar refuses to leave your side when you’re sick. He’ll camp out in your room, insisting on being there for anything you might need, and his presence, though sometimes a bit overwhelming, is undeniably comforting.

Scar's methods of care might be unconventional, ranging from brewing bizarre herbal concoctions to attempting ancient rituals he read about somewhere. Despite their eccentricity, his intentions are always pure—he just wants to see you well again.

Once you start feeling better, Scar continues his care with aftercare rituals that are part sweet and part eccentric. He might insist on daily massages or reciting protective chants to ward off any lingering illness.

The night had been restless, your stomach churning uncomfortably from something you ate the previous evening. As dawn broke, waves of nausea swept over you, accompanied by clammy sweats and uncontrollable shivers. By morning, you were pale and weak, unable to keep anything down.

In your dimly lit room, you clutched your stomach, hoping the queasiness would pass. Scar's usual chaotic presence was nowhere to be seen, which almost felt like a relief in your current state of misery. However, just as you began to resign yourself to a day of suffering alone, the door burst open with a bang.

"Guess what, little lamb!" Scar's voice echoed through the room, filled with a strange mix of excitement and triumph. "I managed to trick a few more Rangers into joining our cause! Can you believe it? They fell for the old 'lost patrol' routine like it was their first day out of the academy!"

You winced at the noise, trying to shield yourself from his exuberance. "Scar, not now," you managed to mutter weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

But as Scar's gaze swept the room, his excitement faded into pure shock. His eyes widened as he took in your pale complexion, your trembling form, and the obvious distress etched on your face.

"What's going on?" he asked, his voice suddenly serious.

You barely had time to mutter a weak reply before another wave of nausea hit. You hurried to the restroom, barely making it to the toilet before retching once more. Scar followed close behind, his usual exuberance replaced by a rare seriousness as he knelt beside you, holding your hair back and rubbing your back soothingly.

"Are you... pregnant?" he blurted out, his concern mixing with his usual lack of filter.

You shot him a dirty look as you shuddered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "No," you managed to mumble, leaning back against the cool tiles. "Ate something bad..."

"Little lamb, why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this?" he asked softly, helping you to sit back against the wall.

"I didn’t want you to see me like this," you admitted, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable.

Scar shook his head, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You think a little sickness is going to scare me away? Tsk.” He looked almost offended. He got up to leave you in the bathroom, only to return a few moments later.

He fetched a glass of water and a damp cloth, gently wiping your face and neck. "You need to stay hydrated," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "And rest. I’ll take care of everything else. Let's get you cleaned up, first, Hm?"

Throughout the day, Scar remained by your side, his usual antics subdued by genuine concern. He fetched cool cloths for your forehead, brought you small sips of water to keep you hydrated, and even attempted to brew some bizarre herbal remedy he claimed would settle your stomach.

"You know, I read about this plant that's supposed to cure everything from heartbreak to the plague," he mused, stirring a pot of leaves and roots that smelled surprisingly pleasant. "I figured it might help."

Despite your skepticism, his efforts were oddly comforting. Scar's presence was a constant, his chatter and eccentric care slowly easing your discomfort. He stayed close, ensuring you didn't feel alone in your misery.

As the day wore on and your symptoms began to subside, Scar insisted on continuing his aftercare rituals—massaging your shoulders to relieve tension, reciting what he called protective chants to ward off any lingering illness, and even preparing a simple broth to tempt your appetite.  His care was unconventional—his attempts at chanting ancient healing spells were met with your amused disbelief—but his presence was undeniably comforting. He refused to leave your side, camped out on the floor beside your bed with a makeshift nest of blankets and pillows.

As evening fell and you finally managed to keep down some broth, Scar sat beside you, his usual chaos subdued to a quiet vigilance. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his gaze soft with a rare tenderness.

"You really had me worried, little lamb," he admitted quietly. "I don’t like seeing you like this."

"I’m sorry," you murmured, feeling guilty for not letting him know sooner.

"Don’t apologize," he said firmly, his hand finding yours. "Just promise me you’ll tell me next time. I’m here for you, no matter what."

Despite his eccentricities and chaotic nature, Scar’s devotion to you was undeniable. His antics might drive you crazy on a daily basis, but in moments like these, you couldn’t imagine anyone else by your side.

"You should get some rest," he said gently, tucking the blankets around you a bit tighter. "I’ll be right here, little lamb."

You reached out to squeeze his hand, the nickname now a term of endearment. "I know," you replied softly. "And I appreciate it, Scar."

He smiled, a genuine expression that softened his rugged features. "Anything for you, even the world, should you ask." he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

You closed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion pulling you under, but not before whispering a heartfelt thank you to the man who had barged into your life in the most unexpected and chaotic of ways.

"Goodnight, Scar," you murmured, already drifting off.

"Goodnight, little lamb," he whispered back, bringing your hand, closer to his lips, pressing feather light kisses on each of your finger. Scar stayed true to his word, watching over you with a protective gaze that spoke volumes of his love and unwavering devotion

WuWa Masterlist

[zolanort]

Hyrule is a fine cook, you guys are just mean.

I will start by pointing out that Wild says the ham water is really tasty. Who is going to be a better judge of the ham water? The one who has eaten nothing but pastries and croissants his whole life?

The lord of pumpkin spice? The army guy who probably lived off of MRE equivalents? The rancher who chugs literal grubs?

Or the one person who is so good with food that he is universally recognized as the cook?

Kudos to you if you chose the grub chugger, nothing wrong with eating bugs, but the correct answer was Wild; Wild is the best choice for judge. Partially because he has 1000x more experience with food variety than the others (statistics taken from my own save files), but mostly because no one else in the group has any significant experience with cooking their own food. Twi did his best helping with that stinky fish for Yeto's soup but it doesn't count.

As the croissant eater points out, the meat looks old.

For it to be old but not have started rotting, it would have to be cured meat (we’ll say ham because what better way to spite Ganon than by eating pig for lunch). Hyrule has probably even upgraded since his first adventure and it’s not just your basic salted ham food (which already costs about the same as a magic shield in game), it’s probably the Hyrulian equivalent of Jamón Ibérico de Bellota from his buddy pal Zelda(s) at the castle. I know I’d give someone a fancy ham for saving my kingdom twice. Hyrule is basically a gourmet at this point. You need quality nutrients to grow healthy hair, as our traveler pointed out, and who has the bestest most fluffiest hair? Hyrule does. Look at the fluffy:

It is absolutely possible to make tasty soup from the most basic 100 rupee cured ham. That’s a real thing that real people do in real life. You can even do it with 50 rupee ham in a can if you’re desperate (I say 50 rupee instead of 25 because of inflation). Hyrule put the bone in too so not only is there the salty flavor from the cured meat, he very well could have been making a nice bone broth for his injured colleague (he could have put other ingredients in off screen too but that’s beside the point). Ever heard of broth based soup? Probably not if you are a croissant eater who never had to cook ham water for yourself on the road. Croissants aren’t even that good unless they have chocolate in the middle, and that’s just because of the chocolate. If you’re going through the effort of laminating all that dough you should just go all the way and make something actually good like pastéis de nata.

Anyway, Hyrule is implied to be a terrible cook and I love that for him. Mostly I just wanted to take this chance to complain about croissants.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Hello, I hope you are having a good day or night so far. I just wanted to ask if the monster!au pregnancy fic is still on the table or if it's making your brain unhappy and needs to go on the shelf to think about what it's done?

Either way is fine The most important thing is your mental health. *Finger guns*

Hey! I'm doing okay for the most part. Work and life in general has just been busy as heck, so I've been just working on art and writing for personal enjoyment.

The fic is still coming along well enough! I just wound up having to rewrite from the beginning to get a better flow, and now I'm just dealing with some of the boys being jerks and not cooperating with me 😂 But I am going to be triumphant soon enough! I only have three of the dorm reactions to go before the inevitable chaos. >v>

And just so you guys know, this currently has 9 pages worth of words (size 9 font, by the way), and I'm still not done. This thing is going to be LOOOOOONG compared to some of my other chapters I've posted! 😂

I appreciate the understanding, but not to worry! It's just my perfectionist editing mind that keeps stalling me 😒 But just to show you that progress is being made, I've attached a snippet I've written of a scene that I wanted to add!

Hope you all enjoy, and I'm excited to get closer and closer to finishing it! ÙvÚ

////SNIPPET STARTS BELOW////

It was late at night when Jamil was working in the school cafeteria, requiring the ingredients in the kitchen to make a late night meal for Kalim since the dorm’s kitchen needed a few repairs. The pans sizzled and pots boiled as he stirred and cooked, his hands moving with speed and precision honed by years of cooking. Despite it being late at night, part of him did appreciate the time alone from the dorm to think in private.

Taking a sip of the broth, he hummed in thought before adding some spices to the soup. Just as he was about to sample it again, his ear twitched when he heard movement behind him and turned. “Miss Yuu?” he asked, surprised to see Yuu standing there holding a plate to her chest. By now she was in her eighth month of pregnancy, her stomach swollen to the size of a large watermelon. “What are you still doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said sheepishly. “Since the due date is getting closer, the researchers moved me to a new room here in the school just in case. It’s easier for them to get to me here than it is to Ramshackle. So I thought walking around a little would help, but then I smelled something good and…well…”

When she hesitated, he asked, “Pregnancy cravings again?”

She nodded. He hummed in thought. Apparently human cravings during pregnancy was no different than how monsters would instinctively do the same to sustain themselves and their unborn children. “A lack of food sources can have a negative effect the body,” one researcher explained once when he’d been passing by the infirmary during one of Yuu’s exams. “Whether human or monster, if the expecting mother doesn’t eat enough to sustain the pregnancy or produce the milk needed to feed the baby, her body will begin to take its own nutrients. This can be dangerous and increase the risk of her breaking her bones, so that’s why it’s important to ensure Yuu has an ample supply of food at her disposal at such a critical stage.”

Knowing this, Jamil held out his hand and smiled. “The soup isn’t done yet, but you can have some of the main dish in the meantime,” he told her, dishing out the food from the skillet. “It’s a simple meal from the Land of Scalding Sands, but I know Kalim wouldn’t mind sharing it with you.” With a deadpan smile, he said, “In fact, he’d insist on it if he were here.”

“Thank you so much!” she said, accepting the offered plate and pausing to breathe in the aroma. He could practically see her drooling before she dug in, happily humming as she sat in the nearby stool. “Oh my gosh, this is so good…can you teach me how to make this?”

“Sure,” he said with a genuine smile. “I know you can’t control your cravings, so if you ever want more, just let me know.”

“Thank you!”

They spent some time casually chatting as the soup finished cooking, the gorgon feeling at ease around her. By the time the soup was done and he’d put some in a container for her, he handed another plate of the main dish to her and bid her good night. As she waddled away, he couldn’t shake the image of a penguin returning triumphantly from a hunt and stifled a snort of amusement.

[toxycodone]

Hey Toxy! Sorry for the sudden radio silence on asks from me, but I got nasty icky sick.

Any quick thoughts on the Touden Party (post Falin being revived) with a gn!reader or fem!reader who got sick (stomach bug or flu is okay with me)?

Thank you again! Love your blog!

-Deer Anon. 🦌❤️

NOOOO OMG...im so sorry to hear that i hate. the flu. I had it in the beginning of this year and when I tell you I was DYING. ugh.

Laios

Probably the most visually affected. Literally says out loud "that's awful!!" when he hears you're sick. Bro is not having it

He's not squeamish, so he volunteers to check on you (along with Falin, theyre a duo).

He holds your hair back when you throw up. King

I think he spends a lot of time unintentionally fretting about you. Will you be okay? Getting sick is the worst. He just ultimately feels bad.

I think he tries to distract you by reading or trying to play games. The others have to keep him from you because he's so eager to just hang out and doesn't really think about the reality that hey. you have something infectious!!

Falin

She's genuinely an unbothered queen in the best way possible. Because she doesn't freak out or anything. Falin is just like "okay" and comes up with her game plan

She's good at nursing you back to health but she doesn't overdo it. Falin is really lowkey and honestly an excellent caretaker. She's the one monitoring your temperature and making sure you get enough fluids and she doesn't cringe when you vomit everywhere. Just frowns and gets to cleaning up.

She'll use her magic to help alleviate your symptoms before she goes <3

Marcille

Instantly freaks. Because ew germs and being sick but also like are you gonna be okay?? Marcille wants to like consult every medic in town before Falin reassures her its cool

Marcille makes the best herbal tea for you...since Falin has you covered with the magic, Marcille focuses on her home remedies and such.

SHE WOULD DO YOUR HAIR. It's an act of love. Usually people don't think about that but having icky hair when you're sick is the worst and Marcille won't have it.

Chilchuck

Oh I know he's immediately thinking of a lecture. He wants to go to you and tell you about how he told you so and you shouldn't have pushed yourself

But when he sees you he just sighs. You look terrible (affectionately) and he just feels super bad. Chil presses his hand to your forehead and tsks and immediately starts doing the mental checklist of what he'd do for his daughters when they were sick

He kinda chides you, but ultimately he settles to change your bedding when it gets too sweaty and make sure you're getting some sort of bath/shower.

He also does that dad thing where he comes into the room and just looks at you when you're sleeping to make sure you're good

Senshi

SENSHI THE GOAT IS MAKING AN IMMACULATE CHICKEN SOUP FROM BONE BROTH HE MADE PREVIOUSLY AND STORED. He is so real.

He doesn't pressure you to eat and just like, makes sure you're at least drinking the broth to get your strength up.

I also like to think he'd attempt to make the Orc medicine he learned while living with them too, just in case. Even small doses of that could hopefully get you feeling better.

But he's helping Chil with the sheets and washing dishes and such. Senshi also stays in the room with you when he has down time during the day and will read you pa

Izutsumi

Eh...do not expect much from her. But she assists the others in the background. Mainly by helping Senshi or Chilchuck take care of you.

She could probably tell you were sick like the day before and avoided you or mentioned you having a strange smell.

But when she hears you're sick she's like :/ "called it"

When no one else is there she "begrudgingly" sleeps at the foot of your bed. It helps you with the chills but also when you have a fever you're really warm

(She probably also gets sick then you have to help her out since its "your fault" hehe)

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 23

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 23: the starting works

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I lowered my head so the sun didn't blind me through the brush. My nose flared as I drew in my prey's scent. They were completely unaware of my presence, unaware that their life was about to end. My claws punctured the soft earth and I leaned back on my haunches.

I sprang.

My bad leg pinched, causing me to land a hair before my prey. They jumped and zipped through the forest with a squeal. I gave chase on all fours until I was in my full dragon form. I weaved through the trees with ease as I ignored the small pains throughout my body. I wasn't fully recovered but that couldn't stop me.

My prey tripped and rolled several paces. I lunged and landed firmly on its head. I stepped back to look at the dead rabbit. It's energy faded from its body and snaked its way through my nose and into my head. I felt ready to keep running.

I laid down and sank my teeth into the soft, fuzzy flesh. The blood pooled in my mouth and oozed down the back of my throat. It wasn't nearly as good as a Demon's blood. It was thinner and had a bitter taste to it. It was like the comparison of eating bone broth to actual soup. It soothed the hunger pains but wasn't actually filling.

It had been a week after my incident. I would wake up in the middle of night craving the blood. I had dreams and nightmares about the killing, even messing with my memories from the ring fights. The nightmares were horribly gruesome and I couldn't believe that my mind was actually producing these images. I was eating limbs and sucking blood until their skin went pale. I was horrified at myself.

I mostly felt the cravings at night or early in the morning after my gruesome dreams. After the second day I was pulling out my hair and trying to suck on my own blood just to stop it. It actually hurt when I didn't have anything. It felt like my veins were being thinned and my muscles would tense until they were rock solid.

Fortunately, in my fit of furry, I had run into the forest and caught a bat between my fangs. Its blood instantly soothed the tense muscles and I felt like I could breathe again. So I made it a habit to go hunting in the mornings for small creatures like rabbits or squirrels. A single creature could suffice the hunger pains for the day until the following morning.

Husker knew what was happening. When I asked him about it, he told me that he didn't have this issue. It was something he knew Alastor had to deal with as well, hence his broadcasts and constant victims.

Another wonderful thing I get to share with him.

I asked Husker to keep my hunting a secret from Alastor. He was always making comments about my 'desires' and I wasn't about to let him know he was actually right. So Husker sat on the porch and waited for me to return every morning.

I swallowed the last of the rabbit and forced myself to feel satisfied, to no avail. I shifted into my Demon form and wiped my lips of the bitter blood. My eyes blinked back to their normal color.

****

Husker and I sat in the library with a radio on the desk. Outside was wet and cold. A rainstorm had come through from the sea and pelted the side of the house relentlessly. It knocked on the library windows, unable to get in. Husker was changing the radio stations every so often.

The broadcast about Demon-kind had aired only a few days ago. Everyone was in an uproar. Vox had used his broadcast to show them the physical difference between Slight magic, Full magic, and Demon magic. Alastor's had been more informative and gave more finite details.

Humans weren't happy. There were countless radio shows and other tv news where the reporters went back and forth about the topic. Some people were angry that they kept the truth hidden for hundreds of years, while others were angry that Demons were showing their true forms around and acting 'above them'. In my opinion, Demons always did that but people just assumed it was a personality trait.

We always kept the radio nearby to listen in. Some cities tried banning Demons and those with Full magic as a whole. Others formed groups to hunt them down but it didn't last very long. Overlords had enough manpower and magic to stop any hunting party, making others less willing to try that tactic again.

Even so, the death rate in this nation skyrocketed. From hunting parties to riots to territory battle to everything, people and Demons alike were getting killed.

This stirred up a lot of political issues too. On this part of the map, towns and cities operated much in the same way and all followed standard protocols for everything - something created long ago before the Great Collapse. Now, rules were being changed left and right without warning and proper justice wasn't so proper anymore.

According to Alastor everything was going as planned. The disruption and confusion left the Humans divided, meaning most of the Demon population was safe.

Most.

I didn't realize how many were dying, or how exactly, until I received a visit from the princess of Hell herself. She, Vaggie, Husker, and Alastor were chatting in the sitting room when I walked down the stairs. She greeted me with a hug and insisted I call her Charlie instead of princess. Fortunately, she was moving so fast that I didn't have to figure out how to return the hug. It still made me uncomfortable.

"Finally, someone who actually cares about Demon-kind," Vaggie remarked, casting a glare in Alastor's direction. He stood with his arms behind his back, like always, and his smile widened at her comment.

"Did something happen?" I asked. I was in my Human form as were Charlie and Vaggie.

"Hell is getting overrun with Demons," Charlie answered, "It was already overpopulated but now there's more and more Demons running back to escape Humans."

"The humans haven't rioted though. Sure some towns are doing it but nothing big," I said.

"It's been fairly decent from what we've heard on the radio," Husker added.

"Not in other places around the world," Vaggie said.

"Across the ocean Humans are coming together and hunting down anyone with Full magic." She looked so pained as she spoke. "Full magic Humans are being killed left and right, and Demons are running back to Hell and making it way overcrowded."

"What's uh...what's...what's your father doing?" I asked, unsure of how I was supposed to refer to him.

"He's locked in his room trying to figure out a way to handle it. Buildings are being built way high up to accommodate more people and some Overlords are straight up just killing anyone who walks in their territory."

"I don't see the problem," Alastor interjected, "Hell's Overlords surely sound like they're doing their part. I know Cannibal Town is doing well."

"That's not the point!" Charlie and I said at the same time, in different tones. Hers was more ecstatic and mine was a growl. Everyone looked between the two of us, just as shocked as we were. Niffty broke the silence as she chased a bug through the sitting room.

"What about the ring fights?" I looked to Husker. "Are those still active or are they killing the champions? They tend to be Full mages."

Husker shrugged. "I know as much as you since we threw out my phone." After my incident, Husker immediately threw his phone into the ocean. We weren't about to risk him getting to me again. Apparently, Vox was trying to use me to force Alastor not to broadcast until after Vox had done his. I discovered this was a petty rivalry.

I scratched the back of my neck. "They probably killed any children who showed signs of having Full magic. Or even the police went after some rings and just killed any and all of the fighters. That would be the easy way to go about it."

"There has to be something we can do. Demons and innocent Humans are being killed. All because of us." Charlie put both hands over her chest and looked down. Vaggie put a hand on her shoulder as comfort.

I was surprised to see the princess of Hell acting like this. I was expecting her to be just as bad, if not worse, than the likes of Alastor. Yet here she was worrying over the death of Demons and Humans. It was hard to believe she was heir to throne of Hell.

A thought came to mind. My thought. This could be the perfect opportunity to separate from Alastor, to put my plan into action. It was way earlier than I expected but I wasn't about to pass it up.

"What about...a safe haven? A sanctuary of sorts?" I offered. Everyone's eyes fell on me. Alastor pressed through my shields as his eyes narrowed. "You've already done something similar."

"You mean make another hotel?" she asked.

"More like a city. Take over a city and let the persecuted come to us. There's more space up here to expand."

"And fix the relationship between Humans and Demons since even Full mage Humans are being attacked," Vaggie said.

"Yeah...yeah that could work!" Charlie's eyes lit up and she seemed to radiate sunlight.

"Defending it would be a problem, though," Husker sipped on his alcohol. "It paints a big red target for Humans to team up against."

"That's true." Charlie started to pace.

"Fear is a great tool for controlling people's actions," Alastor said, placing a hand on my shoulder. My fingers fluttered as our energy shot through my body. I plucked his hand off my shoulder as Charlie spoke.

"That's not really what we're trying to do..."

"But it might be necessary at first," Vaggie moved her hand to Charlie's back, "as much as I don't want to agree with him." Alastor's smile widened.

"The Radio and Snake Demon aren't exactly something most people want to piss off," Husker added. My pride swelled a little.

"Would people even want to come if they knew he was involved? Would they be too scared?" I questioned, positioning myself so I could see Alastor fully in view.

"Maybe not if we really push that he won't kill anyone at the Safe Haven," Vaggie crossed her arms as she looked at him.

"I make no such promises," he laughed, "but those in the Safe Haven would be far from the top of my list."

"Where would even have it?" I asked, ignoring him, "What city would we use?"

"We could build it here," Niffty appeared behind me. She twiddled into the middle of the circle and looked up at Charlie. "We have a big ocean behind us and a big forest between here and the closest town. Easily defendable." She spoke so quickly but everyone had managed to catch it.

"She's got a point." Husker took another sip.

"We'd have to actually build it here, though. As opposed to finding a city or even one of the old abandoned ones to use instead. We'd have a framework."

"True, but it might not be nearly as defendable," Vaggie reasoned. "Are those buildings even safe? I've seen all over social media about them collapsing from how old they are. Our buildings would be knew and could stand for much longer."

I opened my mouth to counter it but Charlie beat me to it, "We'll have to work out the logistics later. I need to talk to my dad first."

She and Vaggie went to the cliff and teleported back to Hell, leaving a different scorch mark in the earth. I closed the back door and walked right into Alastor who had been standing behind me.

"What?" I demanded.

"You had a similar plan, already."

My eyes narrowed as I tried to keep my cover. He must've seen my memories when we touched earlier. "And what if I did?" I pushed past him and walked through the library.

His shadow slipped past my feet and he formed in front of me, hands resting on his cane and his body leaning forward. "You still seem to think you belong anywhere but my side."

"I'm not a tool to be used, Alastor." It felt strange using his name like that. "My lifespan just got hundreds of years added onto it. You really think I want to spend all that time with you?" My heart was racing at the confrontation.

"I think you'll find it rather hard to live without me."

I braced for something as I walked past him to the stairs. "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

Without turning, he asked, "How are your cravings?"

I stopped in my tracks. His laugh made me grimace for stopping. Now he knew. Of course he would know. How long did I really think I could hide it?

"Those little animals aren't nearly as fulfilling, are they?" My ears twitched as I heard him walk up behind me. I turned to face him and he stretched a sharp claw towards my chin. "They just don't cut it. Wouldn't you agree?"

"No." I carefully pushed his hand away. "They work just fine."

He chuckled again and straightened up. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, darling. It's merely a diet."

"It's more than just that. And it is something to be ashamed of."

"What is the difference between a Human or Demon to a rabbit or squirrel?" he asked.

I fell silent. I didn't have an answer to her than that Humans and Demons were intelligent, that I had my own morals I was wrestling with already. Adding this just made things worse.

I was staring at the ground when he grabbed my chin and tilted it up towards him. The energy bounced between us again and I could tell he was getting a high from it. "You need only ask, darling, and I will provide you with what you need."

I jerked my head away, severing the contact. "I won't need it." I stormed up the stairs to my room.

"We shall see."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Well well well, here ya go. I have nothing to say except I really liked writing that last part :P

[fisheito]

if someone's having a bad day what's the comfort food Yakumo would make for them? and if Yakumo's having a bad day who's the one making comfort food for him and what food is it?

ooohhhhhhhhh you would do this to me. you would walk into my room! bring up food AND that accursed snake. in front of my tiny nightlamp!!! !!

*stares at the pit laid out for me*

*leisurely walks toward it*

i think i once read in fic that yakumo cooked congee for sick food and i couldn't get it out of my mind this was before i thought about the possible ethnic influences of each character ... but once someone (was it someone HERE?) slapped "yakumo" and "han chinese" together i went "WEL>LP! *slaps my thighs* *abruptly stands* *walks out the door with my hands in the air* GUESS WE'RE DOIN THIS FOREVER, THANKS"

so. now yaku will default to making the absolute lightest congee as a "SOMEONE IS SICK AND NEEDS TO EAT" first defense unless:

-the Someone normally likes congee a certain way, and asks him to make it THAT way ((i would do this. just because i'm sick doesn't mean i'm allergic to salt. please give me my seafood congee i'll cry if it's just rice)) -the Someone has a known, OTHER preferred sick food, which yakumo will cater to the best he can. i KNOW he has a section in his brain dedicated to everyone's food preferences.

if someone doesn't like congee, he has an entire repertoire of soups to call upon. they can act as temporary sickfood til the *perfect most desirable* dish can be made what? sickie doesn't like congee? no problem. we got chikken noodle. we got cream stew. aster can procure an entire beast for bone broth in no time at all. u want blended veggebable mush? no peas, right?

example! if for some ridiculous reason dante gets sick at the mansion and he complains about the lack of solarian food while bundled under 300 blankets

yakumo is IN the library. he is OUT IN THE STREETS. researching. gathering ingredients. finding substitutes for that one solarian spice whose flavour profile is unlike anything in the light territory but HEY if you blend these 4 things we DO have together ,,it's similar enough...?

but BEFORE all that, dante is still hungy. so if picky king dante refuses to eat unless it's the Comfort Food of all time (i doubt he would refuse food all brattily in this scenario, but i'm gonna pretend he's a picky baby for fun)

then yakumo needs to prepare a pre-meal quickly! before venturing out for the grand solarian sickfood quest

in that case, i imagine he'd prepare a l'il something... where the texture and tastes are familiar to most people... like a bowl of cut up mixed fruit? or a bit of soft bread? porridge? a simple veggie broth? to fill the belly with something warm

Oh wait I REMEMBER SOMETHING FROM THE ARTBOOK. SOMETHING Like THIS!!!!!:

NNOW FOR THE OTHER SIDE OF TEHQ EUSTION *SLAPS THE WALL WITH RENEWED VIGOUR*

WHAT HAPPENS IF YAKUMO GETS SICK?! he exhibits wounded animal behaviour and drags himself into a dark corner to suffer where nobody can see him hahaha

wait. we have plenty of chefs in the mansion. that's easy enough. if any of the clan members have witnessed the secret knowledge [childhood gossip from his grandparents], then all they have to do is relay the info to the chefs.

"yakumo's grandparents always made him _____ when he was feeling bad" and BAM! professional dish ready in minutes

(i am once again assuming it'll be congee bc cooking habits are passed down LOL but if it's not that i could imagine it being a simple steamed dish like root veggies/cabbage)

that's the practical answer at least. because who wants to serve a subpar dish to chef yakumo?? in his time of weakness?!?!?

BUUUt because it's yakumo, Sappiness will help him heal faster. in which case, you could argue that a dish cooked by a mediocre-skill clan member will be as powerfully healing as a comfort dish cooked by a professional stranger.

aster would obvs make the chefs do it, and morv is not to be trusted with sustenance that is not cum. so...

safer choices: eiden, if he's better at cooking in this world now than in yaku SR intimacy rooms LOL..... but because it's eiden, even if the food is bad, yakumo's taste buds will be overshadowed by his grotesquely overwhelming love oli, who can likely cook up meals of (at least) average difficulty with consistent tastiness garu, making simple familiar meals like he did with gramps quincy, if available and willing

potential recruits: edmond under supervision, blade with a clear recipe+instructions laid out (also under supervision)

do not think about it: kuya (i bet he knows how to cook, but in ?WHAT?? universe????? would he give up his time to prepare a homecooked meal and NOT infuse it with weird stuff),

dante (i assume his cooking skills have suffered due to, you know, having to take on several other more pressing responsibilities),

rei (he will eat a poisonous shrivelled mushroom off the floor of his cabin. one that he accidentally tracked in via his boot a few weeks ago. he will consume it just to stop Father from pestering him about eating. he has no time for culinary duty)

[samoankpoper21]

With Love, Oikawa

A/N Still reeling from the loss of my cousin '^^ It's not an easy experience to lose someone, it never will be. Surround yourselves with your loved ones, tell them you love them daily because you never know when they'll pass. I'm glad I was able to tell my cousin that I loved him before he passed so please don't mind this post '^^ I just needed to get this out of my system ^^ hope that makes sense and as usual hope y'all enjoy this drabble. T/W: Small mention of unaliving oneself

Word count: 1880

It was a freak accident. At least that's how the doctor's described it.

Morning of you woke up and your inner being was off, something felt misaligned. You peered over to your smirking husband as he reached over to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. "Morning love."

"Morning." you whispered. Years of dating and 2 years of marriage Oikawa could sense when something was bothering you. His eyebrows scrunched together studying your face. "What's wrong?" Taking a shaky breath you answered, "Honestly I don't know. I woke up feeling...weird."

"Anything I can do to alleviate that weirdness?" he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively pulling you closer to him. You giggle giving him an eskimo kiss. "I'm sure it's nothing babe." You both lay there staring at each other, the love for one another apparent in your eyes. He sighs contently kissing your forehead. "What did I do to deserve you?" you hum in response. "Come on babe, gotta get ready for work." He groaned, interlocking your legs together. "Gimme 5 more minutes. 5 more minutes."

"Babe I would love to but I have an important meeting today." He pouted hugging you impossibly tighter. You couldn't resist his pouty face so you chuckled, hugging him back promising, "5 minutes top Toru."

"Yes!"

15 minutes had passed and Oikawa was walking you to the door watching as you slipped your flats on. "What do you feel like eating for dinner babe?"

"You know I'm fine with-you know what, scratch that. Maybe bone broth soup? It's starting to get cold."

"Ok love, I'll get it from that shop in town."

"You're a god send."

"You're just now realizing." You pinched his arm pulling him close. Leaning down to your height, cupping your face, he says, "I love you you know that? Not more than myself but you're alright." You giggled lightly smacking his arm. "I guess you're alright too." He pecked you once, twice, the third time his arms snaking around your plush waist pulling you close, your hands instantly weaving in his light brown locks, his cologne and scent filling your nostrils. "Okay, okay I have to go. Seriously Toru." Trying to pry his arms away from you he pouted dramatically. "What am I gonna do without you for 8 whole hours?"

"Babe you're more than enough entertainment for yourself. Chill."

"You're right. I am pretty awesome." Chuckling, shaking your head, you gave him a quick peck again turning around to wave at him. "I love you."

"Love you more."

The meetings seemed to drag forever. You just wanted to rush home into your husband's arms as he held you. Just one more hour. This was the mantra that was getting you through this work week. It finally hit 5PM and you rushed to the kiosk swiping your card. "Bye everyone! Have a good weekend! Good work today!" you rushed out bowing to your superiors before rushing to your car pushing on the accelerator. Pulling into the driveway you noticed Toru's car not there. Probably went to get dinner. Stepping out you couldn't help but notice how eerily quiet your neighborhood was. Usually there would be some type of noise but everything was...still. You tried shaking off the anxious, dreadful feeling that stayed with you since the morning but it just wouldn't dissipate. Slipping off your shoes at the entrance you changed into your house slippers when the shrill notes of your ringtone broke the silence. Frowning at the unrecognized number you debated on whether you should ignore the call but something in you urged, nagged, you to pick up. "Hello?"

"Hello is this Mrs. Oikawa?"

"This is she."

"My name is Ito Asahi. I'm calling from Midori hospital in regards to your husband." With a quivering voice and shaky hands you ask, "Is...is he ok?"

"Your husband was involved in an accident."

"I don't-I don't understand." the dispatch cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the news he was about to deliver. "Mrs. Oikawa, your husband was hit head on by a drunk driver and was pronounced dead-" the phone dropped, everything sounding muffled, your breathing ragged. You clutched at your chest, tears falling down your eyes, trying to focus on what to do next. Why was it so got damn hard to breathe? "Mrs. Oikawa? Mrs. Oikawa? Mrs. Oikawa?!" Ito's voice slowly brought you back, your hearing now accompanied by a ringing in your ear. "He...he's dead?"

"I'm sorry." you broke down sobbing clutching at your chest. Fumbling for your phone you dialed Hajime. "Hey Y/N-chan."

"Ha-Hajime," your voice broke.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Are you ok? Is everything ok?"

"T-T-Toru,"

"What about him? Did he hurt you?" shaking your head you continued. "T-T-Toru -hic- i-is -hic gone. -hic- He's gone Hajime!" The sound of shoes fumbling and keys being thrown into a pocket could be heard when Hajime blurts out, "Stay there I'm coming to get you."

Hajime found you sitting on the floor in the dark staring numbly ahead. Gently he helped you up, put on your shoes and coat, and asked where Oikawa was. Surprisingly you were able to utter, "Midori Hospital." The drive there was silent, Hajime having already called your mother-in-law. You watched as the green trees and pink hued sky zoomed by, your ears still ringing. The emergency room doors slid open, the bustling of the the patients being wheeled past and nurses zooming by brought you back to the present. You could hear monitors beeping, the intercom paging a doctor to the maternity ward, nurses taking note of vitals from patients sitting out in the lobby. Hajime lead you to the reception area stating, "Hello. We're looking for an Oikawa Toru." the nurse quickly clacked away at her keyboard when she affirms, "Go through the double doors on your left hand side, his room is 1-B which will be on your right. We were waiting for next of kin before wheeling him away."

"Thank you."

You were numb. Everything felt off. It was as if your body was merely a shell and you were just a third party watching, observing as you and Hajime made your way to his room. With shaky hands, Hajime slowly peeled the green curtains back only to find Oikawa's lifeless form covered by a white and green plaid blanket. "Oi," Hajime's voice broke. "Oi trashy-kun wake up. Wake up! Oikawa Toru wake up!" the sobs began racking through Hajime's body, you began rubbing his back. Shortly after your mother-in-law appeared beside you, her shrill wailing piercing the air, your tears silently falling.

The funeral procession went by smoothly and quickly, you being on autopilot. Former and present teammates came to wish their condolences. You instantly recognized the short, orange haired wing spiker and Oikawa's junior setter looking down cast for the first time. "Thank you for being here." you mutter. Numbly you watched as the casket lowered into the ground, the thud of the casket deafening. Iwaizumi escorted you home. "Are you sure you'll be ok Y/N-chan?"

"I'll be fine thank you Hajime."

"Are you sure? If you need anything-"

"I just...I just need time alone." Worried he gave you one last glance before engulfing you in a hug. "Call me? For anything."

"I will." The door silently clicked close as you dragged your feet towards your shared bedroom. Plopping down on the bed you clutched and inhaled Oikawa's San Juan jersey. You got a whiff of his scent and cologne, the dam you tried to hold in your chest finally bursting. Your sobs came out in waves racking your whole body folding the jersey within the confines of your pudgy body, your chest.

4 months later

Since Oikawa's passing you have been on leave for bereavement; you weren't ready to face work, reality really. Hajime and your mother-in-law made it a habit to check in on you; concerned when you brought it to their attention that you would be taking a trip to Kamakura. You reassured them that you would be okay and that you had no intention of ending your life. Walking the shores of Kamakura you peered out towards the ocean with Oikawa's jersey in your beach bag. Laying your towel down in a spot near the shade, you took out your notebook, his jersey and began journaling.

Hi babe, it's me again. It's been 4 months since you've been gone and I can't say that it's getting easier. Hajime and mom have been checking up on me regularly, making sure that I put a little something in my stomach, especially on the days that I don't feel like it. Remember babe when you promised me that we would go to the beach? You kept telling me about how beautiful the beaches in San Juan were and how they don't compare to your beauty so I'm taking a solo trip to Kamakura. I figured this beach is probably on par as San Juan and your essence ha ha ha. How are you? I miss you. I'm taking it minute by minute, the whole bullshit about taking it day by day is hard. As each day comes to a close it gets hard to sleep because I'm always expecting you to come through the door yelling, 'Baaaaaaabeeee I'm hooooooomeeeee.' Each day has its struggles. Some days I'm okay, other days I find myself sobbing nonstop, others I sit there numbly staring at the wall. Pathetic huh? I just know you're probably giving me shit about not doing things extravagantly ha ha ha When is this gonna end? This empty feeling I mean. Since you left there's a gaping hole in my heart that will be tough to fill. Tough but not impossible. You wouldn't be you if you didn't leave me with a little surprise. I found out earlier this week that I'm pregnant. We're having a boy baby! Can you believe it?! When the doctor told me I had tears of joy, sadness, and just remember this feeling of being scared. How am I gonna do this without you? :(( I'm thinking of naming our son either Touki for winter pleasure since that's when he's due or Towa for eternal peace; I'm leaning towards Towa kekeke Oikawa Touki? Oikawa Towa? Has a funny ring to it ^^ What do you think? I've already told mom and Hajime that I have news for them once I get back home late tonight. I want them to be the first to know. I miss you babe. I love you. I will tell our son all about how flamboyant, egotistical, loving, and romantic his dad was and how amazing of a setter you were. Are you playing up there? Wherever you are. Every time I see a clear, starry night it takes me back to when you asked me to marry you^^ Sorry. I know I'm going all over the place but I just really, really, really wanted to let you know that I love you. so so very much. And I miss you more than words can describe. Talk to you later. Sending kisses to the sky. Wait for me my love. I have a lot of work to do here before I can join you^^ love love love you. With love, Y/N.

[rokhal]

GR/RE7 AU fanfic: Weird Fungus

Referencing this piece of meta explaining @wazzappp's amazing All-New Ghost Rider/Resident Evil fusion AU, here is a little fic about Robbie and Gabe settling in to their little off-grid house where the BSAA stashed them after they survived Dulvey, Louisiana, and developed a cleaning compulsion (Robbie) and a sudden desire to wander away where no one can find him physically, audibly, or psychically (Gabe).

To set the scene, imagine some well-meaning BSAA agent sends Robbie this thing in their regular food delivery.

“I appreciate the gesture,” Robbie said, keeping his voice level and his eyes facing the camera of his BSAA-issued laptop, “but please don’t send us any more legs.”

The agent on the other end frizzled out into pixels and cocked her head on a two-second delay. “Legs? Oh, the, uh.” She tapped on her screen. “Jam-on serano? It’s supposed to be really good with wine.”

“Jamón, ham, the leg. With the foot, and the bones and, uh.” Robbie swallowed as he recalled opening the weekly food delivery and finding the top half of the box occupied by a skinned, cured-and-dried, but still massive animal limb, the thin flesh just below the toes still printed with rope marks. He could see the seams between every muscle. He could see its kneecap. At the opposite end, he could see the severed end of its thigh bone. “M-my brother has sensory issues. He doesn’t eat meat anymore. I won’t eat it in front of him.”

The BSAA agent made a note. “We can accommodate special dietary needs if you let us know. Is there anything specific you would prefer?”

Robbie fought the urge to tear at his hair. “Um. Tomato soup? Like, regular tomato soup, not gazpacho? Macaroni noodles. Some kind of cheese that doesn’t get all stringy as soon as it cools down. Frijoles, you know, normal refried beans? He likes those but not the ones that come swimming in the weird broth. Um, fish is okay—as long as it doesn’t have heads or bones in it. Potatoes are good. Eggs are good.”

“There’s some stores near the military base that cater to Americans,” the agent offered, and Robbie died a little inside. “I’ll see if we can order through there. How about vegetables?”

“His garden is growing really good. We’re good for vegetables.”

“Wow.” Robbie wondered if he’d said something wrong as the agent made another note. “Very nice, I’m glad you two are settling in.”

Not much of an option, being on house-arrest, Robbie thought. “Thanks.”

“Are you excited to start classes?”

Robbie knew this script, a back-and-forth he’d muddled through with a half-dozen social workers back in LA. “Very much. I value my education and I will complete my assignments independently and on time.”

She chuckled. Robbie wondered if he’d said something wrong. “You know, this is the real world, not high school. You can ask for help if you need it. Have you picked a major yet?”

The BSAA hadn’t asked before enrolling Robbie in the University of Barcelona’s undergraduate correspondence program, anymore than they’d asked Gabe before signing him up for remote learning with the local equivalent to middle school. “Pick?” he asked hesitantly.

“I think you’ve still got a few weeks to think about it, and you can always change majors, but, yeah, you might want to contact their guidance department if you’re not sure what courses to sign up for.” Now it was Robbie’s turn to make a note. “Chris will be over today, you can try asking him.”

“Oh.” Mr. Redfield’s visits were always on short notice, but Robbie usually had more than a matter of hours to mentally prepare himself. “Uh. We also need more bleach, please.”

“You just got two liters last month,” the agent said. “You know it’s bad for the septic system?”

Robbie kept his face blank, open. “It’s for cleaning. I’m not pouring it in the drains.”

“You know you’re supposed to dilute it?” the agent pressed him.

“One to ten,” Robbie recited, realizing as he said it that he’d managed to use about five gallons of disinfectant in a single month. He may have a problem. “I’m keeping the kitchen clean. The counters and the refrigerator. And both bathrooms. The grout. Under the lid for the cistern. Door handles.”

“Okay, okay.” Robbie winced; two okays was never okay. “I’ll send you more bleach. And some gloves.”

“Thank-you.”

“You sleeping alright?”

Loaded question. Robbie’s eyes flicked involuntarily to the BSAA-issued Alexa perched on a high shelf in the kitchen. “I’m sleeping.”

“Bad dreams?” The agent’s image pixelated again before stabilizing, and Robbie took advantage of the brief signal disruption to press his face hard into both palms. He could control himself during the day but of course their bugs heard it when he woke up screaming.

“Yeah.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Robbie doubted she would take no for an answer and doubted his own ability to prevaricate. He shrugged. “Louisiana. Dinner table with Momm—Mrs. Baker, and her husband and Eveline.” That was an odd feature of his recurring nightmares: he identified Mr. and Mrs. Baker in his thoughts as Mommy and Daddy, and his fear of them was twisted together with familiarity, even gratitude. “They had my body chopped up in pots.”

The agent made a sympathetic noise. “They tried to eat you?”

“Could be worse,” Robbie said, shrugging again. At least the people they ate didn’t turn into fanged piles of black sludge and stagger around their decaying home for eternity. “I think I’m just…” He glanced around the study: empty, except for the big table and the bookshelf full of Spanish novels that had proved embarrassingly challenging. “I’m, like—in my dreams I’m looking down at myself in the pot and Mm-Mrs. Baker tells me to eat up. I mean. They didn’t have any real food.” He crossed his arms and dug his nails into his own elbows, fighting vertigo. “It was all rotten. No cans left. The animals were all dead.”

“You’re worried about what your brother went through,” the agent said, and Robbie straightened.

“No.” He held his breath, grasping for some plausible argument. They killed dogs that ate people, didn’t they? The BSAA’s hold on their lives now was absolute. “They only had him a few months. I, I mean. It’s my dreams. Making things up.”

“Any problems with your medication? You have the list of side effects to watch for?”

“No.” It was a daily BSAA-issued pill. The first day on his antifungal, Robbie threw up black mold into the toilet until he passed out and slept for ten hours. Better out than in, he’d figured. The next day, and every day since, had been fine. “I mean, no side effects. We’re okay.” A bird warbled and piped from outside, loud and close. Robbie hadn’t left any windows open overnight. He straightened and turned, just as he heard the side door click shut. “Gabe?”

“Should we cut this short?” the agent asked, helpful for once, and Robbie nodded.

“I appreciate it. It’s probably nothing.” He ended the call and checked the dining room, where Gabe often read or watched laggy videos on his own BSAA-issued laptop, and Gabe’s room, where a cornucopia of superhero collectibles spilled from the bed to the floor and a faint (illusory, had to be) scent of mildew lingered despite Robbie’s vigorous daily whole-house cleaning schedule. “Gabe?” He must be outside. Robbie tried to calm himself. Just because Gabe had left the house, didn’t mean he was going to wander over the hills and disappear for two days. Again.

He stepped over the threshold, out from the hundred-year-old walls of his new home and into the alien wilderness: hot sun and rocky hills, no sound but the wind in his ears and birds chattering in the spicy-sweet desert shrubs. He squinted downhill, to the south: shrubs, cliffs, the Mediterranean sea glittering up at him. He peered west: shrubs, hills, the distant remains of a shattered stone fort and the faintly visible danger signs surrounding a radioactive ghost town. He checked north: shrubs, gravel driveway that carved switchbacks over the hills until it disappeared over the horizon, still no Gabe. Assuming that it had been Gabe shutting the door behind him and not the wind, he’d only left the house a few minutes ago; he couldn’t have run out of Robbie’s sight that fast. He might be crouched down to examine some plant or insect, or he might be hiding. (It was still so strange to see Gabe doing these things: running, climbing, hiding. The goddamn study had never even suggested their treatment would do anything for Gabe’s physical limitations, just save his life. When he’d first found Gabe in the Baker house, strong and agile and trying his best to stab him to death, he’d thought Gabe was literally possessed by a demon. The little girl’s mental influence was gone; the abilities she’d given Gabe remained.) He circled around to the east side of the house, reassuring himself that he could always run back inside and climb out onto the roof to get a bird’s eye view (Gabe could just crouch down below some fragrant desert bush and almost disappear), and then all the air rushed out of his lungs with a strange little wheeze when he saw Gabe hunched over and kicking something in the garden.

“Hey, Bud.” Gabe hated being snuck up on after Louisiana, and honestly, so did Robbie. (Gabe could sneak up on him now.) Robbie picked his way through the sprawling jungle of the vegetable garden: beans twining up gnarled bushes and driftwood stakes, tomato vines heavy with fruit stretched out over the sandy ground between lush bunches of lettuce, mellow paprika peppers blazing like Christmas lights from leafy stems. Most of Gabe’s plants, he’d started by planting left-over stems and seeds from their weekly meal prep shipment directly into the dirt with a handful of rotting food-scraps, and they never failed to sprout with a few days of watering. Robbie found himself happy to eat these home-grown vegetables; watching Gabe mulch and water them as they unfurled their leaves and their flowers set into fruit made them more trustworthy, somehow, than the bitter green things sold chopped up in bags at the grocery store. If he’d known growing his own food was this easy, he’d have dug up a roadside strip back in Los Angeles years ago.

Normally there were bees buzzing around the pepper and tomato blossoms, but Gabe’s kicking had scared them off. Robbie approached slowly as Gabe grabbed his digging stick. He hated the tingle of fear down his spine. He had to concentrate to keep from grabbing the scar on his left forearm, reminding himself as he so often did that Gabe was a physically normal kid now. Normal kids could be violent. It didn’t mean anything was wrong. It didn’t mean this wasn’t Gabe.

Gabe side-stepped to hide what he’d been kicking from Robbie, shoving dirt over it with his well-worn stick. Robbie still saw a flash of something red, fleshy. He swallowed. “What is that?”

Gabe dropped his stick and rubbed his face in the crook of his elbow, breath hitching. Robbie stepped closer and saw that the red meaty object was not, to his profound relief, an animal. He wasn’t sure what it was: narrow, spongy, bruised and moist from Gabe’s shoe, with dark gray parts and a tapering red stripe on each of its wedge-shaped segments, looking like a dog’s mouth or one of those bizarre tropical flowers that only blooms every hundred years. “Weird fungus,” Gabe managed.

Robbie knelt down to look at it. He’d never seen a wild mushroom before; he didn’t expect them to be so big, or to be shaped like an open mouth. The colors were a bit like the red and white mushrooms in cartoons, though. “Is it poisonous?”

Gabe shook his head. “It helps the vegetables,” he choked out. “But, I. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry you got nightmares. I didn’t mean to.”

Robbie covered his mouth. This was his fault; he hadn’t checked that Gabe was in his room before his call with the BSAA agent. He had to get it through his head that Gabe could move quickly and quietly now, that this was their normal. “I’m so sorry you heard that,” he said. That wouldn’t undo that Gabe had heard that. “Buddy. Gabe.” He reached up for a hug, and Gabe hesitated, staring at his left arm. “That’s just a dream. That’s just my brain trying to make sense of things that make me unhappy, and I’m unhappy about what the Bakers and, and Eveline did to you. Not anything you did. Okay?” Gabe sniffled and rubbed his face again, and Robbie kept his arms open, waiting. “I’m so proud of you for making it out of there. For surviving. I’ll never blame you for anything you had to do to survive.”

Gabe stared down at the stomped remains of the mushroom. “I’m not creepy?”

“No, never. You’re my little bro,” Robbie assured him, and Gabe sat down and flung himself against Robbie’s side. “Why’d you kill the mushroom?”

“Cause it gave you my nightmares,” Gave mumbled. He must mean, nightmares about me, an accurate deduction that would make Dr. DaCosta back home intensely proud of his social reasoning skills, except that Robbie had never seen this mushroom before. Robbie figured that before Gabe smashed it, it must have been nightmarish to look at, in a Hot Topic sort of way. “It’s creepy.”

“I think it looks cool,” Robbie remarked. Spain was full of cool things, now that he had the time and safety to sit back and contemplate them: bugs. Seaweed and weird critters that washed up on the beach. Flowers. Birds that sang—he’d thought their reputation for “singing” was an exaggeration, but it turned out that birds actually do sing. An infinite carpet of stars stretching out overhead, pinks and blues and yellows and so many tiny white lights that the black night might as well have been splashed with foam. And now, huge mushrooms that looked like toothy mouths. “You said it helps the garden, right? I’m not scared of mushrooms that aren’t poisonous.”

“Sure you’re not,” Gabe muttered.

“I’m not scared of mushrooms outside the house,” Robbie qualified. “Will the vegetables be okay?”

Gabe looked up and bit his lip. “Maybe. If I water more. They can’t use the seawater.”

“I’ll calculate how much we can spare from the cistern without running low,” Robbie offered. “We can take shorter showers.”

“I’ll just grow another one.” Gabe poked at the fragments of mushroom with his shoe.

“You can do that?” Robbie had heard that mushrooms were easy to grow with a kit, but he’d never seen it done. He felt a swell of pride at the gardening knowledge Gabe had absorbed from his tablet so quickly.

“It’s really easy,” Gabe said. “But. You gotta tell me if you get my dreams again. Okay?”

“Okay.” Robbie hugged him tighter. “I won’t take your dreams.”

“I don’t think you can do that.” A bee circled overhead and landed on a bean flower. They watched as it nudged its whole head inside the petals, wings and legs fluttering industriously.

[christiansorrell]

Play-By-Blog #0.5: Cloud Empress

asdfasf

So, here are the results:

Our starting party will be a Courier, a Magician, and a Lordling! Screw Sellswords! No one here likes them apparently (literally not a single person, not even me, voted for them)!

I rolled all three characters randomly across the board, as is Play-By-Blog tradition. That said, let's take a look at our crew!

THE COURIER: "Senior" Stone (they/he)

(I'll be typing this up in a little character keeper for upcoming entries, but for now, here's my handwritten sheet! Sorry for my bad handwriting! I have little patience for legibility.)

Stone is a rough-n-tumble courier in their final year of being a teen. They just recovered from a broken arm for a few weeks in Tack Town, and are eager to get back on the road. With a new, still-unnamed crew at their side, they are confident about this next job, if for no other reason than they'll be more targets than just a lone courier this time. Stone is the party's provision carrier, being a Courier and all. They currently have 3 days worth of Provisions for the entire party (the max they can carry).

THE MAGICIAN: Boto "The Penitent" (she/her)

Boto is a full-grown Magician and practiced arcane healer, looking for something new and exciting among the, frankly, boring fields of the Breadbasket. She just finally learned more about an unknown spell after a few weeks in a backwater village, convincing the townsfolk of her trustworthiness. She's dying for some adventure, and this job looks like it could be just the thing.

THE LORDLING: Iselbraid "The Judge" (he/him)

Iselbraid is a Lordling of some renown but few achievements. After romancing (and angering) several members of the Royal Court, he's taken to the surface for a bit, looking to earn himself a valorous tale or two before returning in the fall. Hopefully they'll be some new members of the court that catch his eye by then. He's still convincing himself that this whole bit of adventure is the right decision, but he doesn't know how long he can get by off of smooth-talking alone.

OUR STARTING GOAL: Hunt a fleshthresher in the Breadbasket. The components fetch a decent exchange in trade, plus there's a local farmerling group offering to aid you considerably if you are able to make the fields around the fleshthresher save for them to harvest.

Fleshthreshers are ancient and deadly automatons, responsible for protecting the automated farm fields of the World Before. We'll need to explore the region or possibly chat with some locals and see if we can get a tip about any known Fleshthreshers in the area. Scout crews frequently gather in Tack Town and head out in search of food, working to gather undetected by the field automatons, so its reasonable to assume some may have a worthwhile lead, if we can find them.

OUR STARTING LOCATION: Tack Town (B18), the largest city in the lowland wastes centered at the heart of the Breadbasket.

"There isn’t an adult Farmerling who has not spent a season in Tack Town and only badly misplanned Farmerling children are born outside its crumbling plastisteel walls. The Lowland’s last city is filled with a jumble of hard shell tents, ancient dwellings, and tack-shaped rolling campers resistant to the unearthing Imago."

"Many make their way to the cafeteria, waiting to taste today’s sweet-meat soup; milky bone broth infused with cardamom and honey. Farmerlings high on mushroom tonic gulp down bowls of the stuff, stumbling past a parading Lordling and nir guards. The Lordling finds few eyes meet nir gaze and the Farmerlings that do bite their thumbs in anger."

"In the market, travelers buy handfuls of seeds with their winter savings, preparing to make their way back to ancient farmlands. There is no singular day of departure, just a growing feeling that it is time to move on. Folks trickle out, four or five at a time, and only the old and unwell stay behind preparing Tack Town for its next winter."

It is here our adventure begins, but first, we have a choice.

(As always, sound off in the comments in you've got another approach or a specific thing you'd like to see the characters do/investigate. Thanks for joining me for character creation! Next entry will dive into the adventure narration proper and we'll see how these characters explore the world, what events trigger, and more. I'm happy to have y'all along for the ride! - Christian)

[sailorbowie]

prompt!!

in their post-fall life, amongst whatever social circle they inevitably end up coming across thanks to Hannibal, Hannibal once again ends up the center of attention, the charming man everyone wants to talk to.

one day, someone brings up his constant calm demeanor no matter what happens, and someone gets the courage to ask Will what Hannibal is like when he gets angry.

Will realizes then that he doesn't actually know, because he's never seen it. he doesn't know if it simply doesn't exist (it does), or if Hannibal has been hiding it from him the whole time they've known each other.

(stews this bone in the brain broth of my brain soup. with seasoning.)

The very question briefly rises Will from his more social stasis, one he'd carefully sewn together with Hannibal, who is an excellent tailor. He thinks back to any sort of instance where the man's voice ever so slightly rose at him, and can only recall one. "I don't care about the lives you save. I care about your life." The anger, if one could call it that, felt more like the fresh warming of a metal pot set on the stove than a scalding burn. Will had recalled moments where Hannibal sniped at him from behind the glass of his cell, but that was not anger either. Spite, perhaps, but not anger. Will stares past the shoulder of who asked him, and sees Hannibal sharing a tight-lipped smile with a cohort, and tries to imagine what his anger would look and sound like. Was it there when he didn't notice? He puts on his mask again, adjusting the glasses up on his nose and letting out a soft exhale, a small smile gracing his lips. "Honestly, not sure. I guess it'll remain a stickler until I find out."

And Will leaves it at just that. It fizzles out just as short as his response, with another lighthearted discussion on the trivialities of sharing a life with a partner. It remains in the back of his mind, however, lingering. The guests have all made their goodbyes and left, leaving the two to their devices of cleaning up. In the kitchen, Will is scraping the waste into the bin, handing smudged plates to Hannibal, washing them in the sink. A rhythmic system. "I want to ask you something, and I need you to be truthful with me," Will says firmly.

Hannibal is rubbing circles with a sponge over a plate. "Ask away. I have little to hide from you." Will lets him finish the plate before speaking once more. "Do you ever get angry? At me? At all?" Hannibal finishes cleaning the plate, putting it on the dish rack before shutting off the tap. The rush of running water stops, it silences the kitchen. "Yes." Hannibal dries his hands. "Never at you, though. I could never be angry at you." They both pause in their task. "I don't consider anger to be the best use of my time and energy, so I don't pay it much mind. Anger is distracting, it clouds judgement and reason." Will almost feels his own anger simmering to the surface in how vaguely he responds. He wants to reach forward and grasp the anger, rip it out of Hannibal's chest. "You and I know that hiding this feeling doesn't do any good. Doesn't it drive you, even just a little bit? Does your heart know rage, Hannibal?" This makes Hannibal's gaze fix upon Will's eyes. Sincerity. "My heart does not know rage like yours, Will. Resentment and bitterness would be more accurate. Are you asking if I would ever feel rage towards you?" Will's exhale seemed to confirm the affirmative. Hannibal looked content as he gave him the response he truly desired. "Will, never in the time that I've ever known you have I felt rage towards you or what you've done. Not because I've forced it down, or hidden it away, but because it simply isn't present. If I were to show you rage, know that nothing you could say or do would make that happen so intensely." Present felt like a word implying an absence. As if there was a time where it would make itself present again. Will knew if anyone could properly enrage him, it would be him. For who knows him better, at this point? Time and time again, though, Hannibal could never be angry at Will, or enraged, even. He had been loving, and would love all of Will's imperfect moments. Will wonders of a time in their life when an absence of rage would finally mean things were normal. He wonders which of their flames would need to go out first.

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

25

Ninth skull.

Harrow goes to God in hopes of help, or anything, but she just gets this.

“Harrow, do something normal. Learn how to make a meal. Read a book. Go ahead and prepare—our lives revolve around us all preparing … but take the time to rest. Have you slept lately?” It was the first time you realized God could not understand you.

Harrow is sleepless and rightfully paranoid and she doesn't know anything about what's going on, and God asks her to be normal.

Yeah, I'd lose my shit, tbh.

“You cut up an onion, burn it at the bottom of the pot, put in a few vegetables, and then some meat. It won’t taste like anything, so put in a few teaspoons of salt, and then it’ll taste like a few teaspoons of salt.”

Ianthe's soup recipe made me laugh. Is she wrong though????

“Too much water, but not a bad effort,” said Augustine with forced jollity. “Broth needs to thicken over time, Harrow.” (You had let it thicken for hours, then added a great deal of water, in a panic.) “Do not get me wrong, sis. Eating a new cook’s food after ten thousand years is frankly exciting. Let me give you a list of my favourite meals so that you can get them interestingly wrong.”

Aw Augustine, so supportive.

And Harrow, that's a whole ass mood. I've done very similar things.

I would not be standing if I went without sleep as long as Harrow has now, but she still manages to make adequate soup. Impressive, tbh.

The Saint of Duty ate your soup at a stolid, uninterested, mechanical pace. You had noticed at previous dinners that he did not like some particular vegetables, so you had put them all in. Deprived of solid choices, he was mostly drinking stock.

Hahaha. Get fucked, Ortus the First.

“Marrow,” you said. The Saint of Duty exploded outward as your construct emerged from his abdomen. [...] “Harrowhark,” he said, “you cannot have perceived foreign bone marrow within the body of a Lyctor. I’m not sure Mercy could perceive it with her arms draped around Ortus the whole time.” “The cells weren’t foreign.” “What?” “I sectioned my tibia for the soup,” you said.

Okay that's kinda gross but also oh my god, I'm so fucking proud of Harrow for thinking of this. Good girl. You go Harrow. You rock. Hell yes.

“Six days. No sleep. She still manages a full skeleton commencement from diluted marrow. What else have you failed to see, Mercymorn—?” You were already at the door when her peevish response came: “But this is insane! She’s only nine years old!”

She IS only nine years old. She's only a little baby. Leave her alone.

All that aside, I'm glad to see that the Emperor acknowledges Harrow's power now.

And the Saint of Duty lifted his lit cigarette to you in an unmistakable salute.

Well, she's managed to impress Ortus the First, at least.

Does that mean he'll stop trying to kill her?

[tartagliatum]

since you mentioned Albedo’s clone/Subject 2…

warning. im obsessed with him. this has turned into something completely tummy-unrelated, but i hope you still enjoy it. feel free not to respond if you’d like.

if this were on ao3, i’d tag it “food as a metaphor for love” lmao

*

rhinedottir’s treatment of her prized possession, her perfect creation, was one of strictness and emotional deprivation. so it’s no wonder that she treated those that came before Subject 1 as trash under her foot. of course none of the previous subjects would even live to remember such anguish, except for one.

When Subject 2 witnessed Albedo sharing supper with Kaeya and Klee one evening, he was…confused, if anything. He had just begun stalking Albedo to learn of his habits and lifestyle, and this was the first time he had witnessed this so-called “art of cooking.” Before being fed to the Dragon, he, too, was sustained only on their creator’s supplement cakes. He didn’t know cooking was an activity one could do in general.

But the way Kaeya flipped the unknown food in the pan, the smell of foreign spices escaping the cracks of the window from where he secretly peeked in, this hiss and crackle of the stove’s flames as bits of food spilled over the metal edge of the pan…it fascinated him. Was this magic? A form of alchemy he had not yet been taught?

Then the three sat down at their table, and Albedo took the first bite. His eyes filled with an expression Subject 2 had never seen in his life; was that joy? surprise? confusion? Albedo was not supposed to be confused; he was perfect. He knew everything. What sort of magic would have even Albedo bewitched by its sorcery?

His stomach churning with an unknown sensation, and his chest burning with simmering envy and rage once again, he slowly slipped away from their city home.

Subject 2 had rarely known hunger. If he ignored it enough, eventually it would go away. His body, though flawed, would supplement itself with the chemical bonds around it; stealing ions and electrons from the environments he lived in to form new compounds that would replace the energy lost. No sustenance was needed.

And yet, ever since he had smelled those foreign spices in Kaeya’s kitchen through the cracks of the window frame, it was as if there were a hole in his stomach that wouldn’t go away. One demanding to be filled by the same dishes. His mouth seemed to water and crave those distant flavors, and his hands, too, itched to recreate whatever cooking Kaeya had unknowingly shown him.

Subject 2, who was cursed with more freedom than Albedo, was the one to begin cooking for himself.

He burnt nearly everything he set atop his fire pit. He had no access to fancy spices, as Dragonspine yielded only sweet flowers and mint, and he had no mora to his name— not like he’d actually be able to buy anything at a market anyway. Not when he still looked so much like Albedo.

And yet, he persisted.

Eventually, he’d make a dish that recreated a muted version of the reaction he witnessed Albedo have those many days ago; a bootleg goulash of sorts. A thin broth of tomatoes, unevenly sliced meat (some still laden with fat and bone), two dashes of mint leaves and a sweet flower bloom. Add a dash of salt he’d stolen from a Fatui camp, and ding! it had been the best thing he’d ever tasted.

Which was, in comparison to Albedo’s now expanded palate, quite sad.

Months later, when Albedo came to confront this “twin” of his again, he stumbled upon him cooking that very dish. He stirred with a wooden ladle with a half-broken handle, hunched over a fire that wasn’t even strong enough to boil the liquid within the pot. Even after months of practice, with no one to teach him the proper etiquette, the soup still cooking in the notably rusted pot still looked…dubious at best.

And yet from the look in his eyes, Albedo could tell he was hungry. Perhaps almost starved, in any sense but the physical one. His body was not yet eroding away from the inside out, but his gaze was locked so intensely on the stew it was as if he was afraid of losing it. The way his fingers trembled by the fire wasn’t simply from the subzero temperatures of the climate. If Albedo strained his ears, he could hear the tell-tale faint grumbling noises beneath the howling of the frigid wind.

Well, Albedo thought, Kaeya always says the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

“Hey”

Subject 2’s head shot up, and he sprung to his feet to defend himself against a sword. But what Albedo held out instead were two small bottles of cumin and pepper. A small sack of perishables weighed in the bag on Albedo’s back, and a smile graced his face.

“If you’d like, I could teach you to cook.”

Taking one step forward into forging his new identity, Subject 2 grasped his “brother’s” outstretched hand.

-🤍🪶

(i’m sorry, i went crazy. i’m in a subject 2 mood, not really much of a tummy mood. but by the time i realized it, i had already finished writing. also, this is me inadvertently headcanon-ing that if Subject 2 were playable, his special would be Goulash)

kicking my legs and giggling at all the kaeya mentions

i feel so bad for clone albedo he is so pitiful:(( i just love the idea of his pedestal placement of real albedo crumbling a bit when he realises that he too struggles with the need to be something else (truly human) and they can bond together over their newfound relationship w food !!

[rosavulpes]

"Shuichi!!" she is running, different herbs on her hands as she approaches him "Do you know if any of these are edible?" she wanted to experiment with cooking that day, but she'd rather not poison anyone. Unless it tastes really nice she might be willing to taking that risk.........

Lightly tugging along the strands of his apron to ensure that it was a tight fit , he'd smiled to himself as he tied the back end into a firm knot in order to ensure that it wouldn't come off while he busied himself in the kitchen .

Long red hair already done up in the style of a ponytail to ensure that no unsightly accidents would occur .

Washing his hands , and then starting to work on the dishes he'd planned out for the day , he'd awoken with an inkling that he might have a few extra hungry guests today coming by to visit by the look of things . So , he'd decided to make a few extra , hearty dishes just in case he and his family would have extra company today .

Starting off by cleaning some rice grains , the first thing that had come to mind had been rice bowls , inherently satisfying , and definitely on the more filling end of things . Everything from Bulgogi , to Liyue Barbeque , to Chicken Bulgogi , and even his personal favorite , Fire Chicken .

Mixed variety salads , some Bamboo Shoot Soup as appetizers , and even Almond Tofu afterwards as something on the sweeter end to finish the course .

It didn't need to be said ... he'd certainly be in the kitchen awhile but that was more than fine with him . Even if strenuous , there was a peaceful feeling being at home in one's own kitchen , being able to cook as one pleased .

As time passed , a knowing smile would come to him as he heard a familiar set of voices make their way into his home .

He was grateful to them , not just because of their actions in saving Liyue , but of the happiness that they'd been able to bring to his parents during their visits . Stories of adventure such as theirs were rare , even more so when all of Liyue's people could verify the legitimacy of their stories .

" Good afternoon , Lumine "

Greeting her with a smile as he entered with her herbs in hand . His expression changed to that of a puzzled one , thumb to his chin as he looked over what she'd brought him .

Violet grass , Qingxin , and some other herbs he didn't full recognize . Given her unofficial title in Tevyat as " The Traveler " he could only guess that she must have found some of them in rather rare parts of Liyue or beyond .

" Hmm , some yes . We can add these to a bone broth soup to see what flavors they'd bring to it . Would you like to stay for awhile and join us for dinner ? We have plenty to go around , if your too busy , I can package a few meals for you to take with you if you'd like "

His immediate thought with the herbs was to try them in a bone broth soup , or to fry them . Heat tended to either purge , when boiled , or nullify some of the harmful substances taken in when eating an unknown plant . The same could be said when one washed them , which he intended to do as well if she'd allow him too .

" Those are Jueyun chilis right ? If you have a taste for spicier foods , I'd be more than happy to share my own personal recipe for honey fire chicken if you'd like . I always make a bowl whenever it gets particularly cold outside "

[dballzposting]

i bet those saiyan stomach enzymes they got are monsters at digesting. like they could eat an animal bones and all but they dont (or do they??????)

anyways those saiyans eat so god damn much that indigestion and acid reflux have a higher vhance of killing them than fighting. No savoring or nuthing, they always eat like its gonna be their last meal lawl.....

I do think yamcha like. Occasionally cooks for them tho. Like as a treat. Like he won't do it often, but I think of him as the type of guy who cooks as a hobby IDK

(maybe vegeta savors his food slightly more than anyone else's IDK!!!!)

I believe this. This is believable

I want to see them eat bones... Chichi is standing at the oven making bone broth one day and Goki is hovering like "when is food time chichi?" and shes like "settle DOWN Goku-sa I'm only just now making the soup stock" and she turns around for a minute and when she returns the bones in the pot are just .. gone?

Future Trunks literlaly has acid reflux. A passionate truth of this blog.

They can eat anything & their bodies put so much WORK and Desperation into digesting that I do believe that it could kill them you're right .. if they only eat bones for example then they wont last long becasue the effort it takes to digest them is more than the returns the meal yields. Imagine eating so much that you die from exhaustion. The Saiyan digestion track is a precarious thing, like a clunky haphazard engine perhaps, always go go going.!! Like a hummingbird's cardiac system perhaps.

The only innate source of insecurity that you'll find in the tough and confident Saiyan is food insecurity .. all of their energy comes from food and they burn an awful lot doing what they love .. they have to eat so much all of the time. So much so that their bodies will digest anything. And sometimes that's scary and their stomachs get sad.

Vegeta didnt really care about Trunks to start but I can see that maybe what made him start to care was, for a reason that he could not make sense of, he began to grow so insecure on Trunks's behalf that he wasnt eating enough. There is literally all of the world's food and like 30 gourmet chefs at his disposal, but vegega was still hovering and telling Bulma "make sure hes eating enough..!" and Bulma would snap and go "Stop backseat parenting me, I know what I'm doing. And all the kid does is eat! He barely sleeps with how much he eats!" and Vegeta would be like "OK. But if he runs out of food for even 20 minutes then make sure he eats still. Feed him the furniture because it's better than nothing."

It's literally never enough.

I got another ask saying that the reason that Vegeta is so short is becasue he didnt eat enough in his formative years. I domt remmeber if I answered it or not but I didnt really agree with it but now I'm seeing the merit. I like the abysmal and acute insecurity that that would leave Vegeta with now that would lay dormant until there was a kid in his life for him to lay all his worries on. Very piquant stuff.

Bulma is like "I knew Son-kun when he was young I KNOW how Saiyans eat" but then she sees Vegeta eating bones with her son as a post-dessert appetizer and shes like ... k maybe there is an oddness here that I wasnt anticipating.

It gets to a point where Bulma feels like Vegeta is getting Trunks to eat TOO much. Trunks will be having fun doing an activity and dinner isnt until hours later amd Vegeta will enter the room and ask "you hungry?" and Ttunks ofc says "yes" so then they go get food and Bulma eventually is like "could you stop distracting him with food every time hes doing something else? He needs to develop his brain not just his stomach! Stop telling him he's hungry when hes fine!" and Vegeta is like "Saiyan children are always hungry. Always"

Like honestly the only time Bulma ever sees any real Emotion and Vulnerability on Vegetas face is the panic-stricken look he shoots her when she says that dinner isnt until 45 minutes.

Honestly like WHAT IF Vegeta didnt have enough to eat in his growth spurt years.. he and his men were having to hunt for themselves AND continuously grow stronger AND Vegeta specifically had to get stronger the most. Maybe Raditz got tall just becasue he wasnt as strong, more energy was allocated to height. But Vegeta had to beat Frieza one day. He had to make sure he was the strongest.

Amyway. If Bulma ever got this story out of him (the loose string that unties the knot being his devout over-empathy and anxiety regarding how much Trunks has to eat, and the way that it's causing him to Not Trust Bulma and shes damn sick of it) then she would say "ohmygod is THAT why you're so short?" and Vegeta would be so surprised that he would stop crying. Just cos he never really thought of it like that. But yeah that is why. And his body knows that it didnt eat enough to reach its full potential and it's forever sad about that.

Oh and not to mention what this would do to Trunks .. hes a healthy kid but Vegeta feels like hes living paycheck-to-paycheck with food so he tells him that hes too thin and needs to eat more. And that's gonna affect Trunks's body image and his relationship with food in a weird way. And hes gonna be all fucked up for it. All he does is eat. He both hates it and needs it as a habit.

Additionally hes gonna learn that if he wants to get out of doing something he can use "I'm hungry" as an excuse and Vegeta will defer to it every time. So now hes just learning about instant gratification and procrastination. Son of a bitch.

Sorry for rambling. I love an insecure Vegeta. I love eating bones. I believe this

OH YEAH and the Yamgeta thing. Lol. I said in the middle of an exceedingly long and rambly post recently that Vegeta does like to eat at Yamuchas cabin just becasue it's Real. Theres never enough but it's an honest meal like the campfire meals that Vegeta grew up with. And Vegeta will use Yamuchas woodstove and end up burning something but it's fun for him to get to cook again too.

Good post