#repeat after me: WELL. BALANCED. MEALS.

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

Not to be dramatic but I think I would die immediately if I had to survive solely on the food in the lost cities

[justmeinadaze]

Hi! I have this really REALLY angsty request that if you don’t want to do it okay, but since you’ve posted things with a similar theme I thought maybe you could write it.

So it’s similar to the pop star!reader x bodyguard!steddie, but this is just regular them Ig? So reader overdoses with some of Eddie’s stuff, and when the boys arrive, Eddie kinda gets flashbacks from when his mom overdosed. I’m just really a craver for angst, hurt, comfort fics

Thank you so much! I love your stuff!!🤍🤍

Steddie Asks/ Ko-Fi <3

Warning: Dark themes of drugs and overdosing, all three discuss an incident where the reader overdoses

The table is silent as you and your boyfriends pick at the food they had purchased after bringing you home from the hospital. Having grown accustomed to the balanced meal they provided, you were struggling to fully get through the heavy pasta in front of you. 

You hated this; the weighted energy that hung in the air. 

You would give anything to go back to how things used to be when you, Steve, and Eddie could just laugh and have fun but a line had been forever crossed. Trust broken in that one moment when you snuck into the metalhead’s things and found drugs that weren’t meant for you especially after you promised things were going to be different. 

“I know! I’m sorry! I don’t mean to go overboard. Everything is just so overwhelming and it helps me…breathe. I promise, I’ll slow down. I’ll get clean, I swear.”

You meant it at the time and every time after when you talked yourself out of buying a new supply. But when you were fired from your job for seemingly no reason, you needed to numb your brain. 

“Just one more.”, you had told yourself.

One more turned into another hit and then another…and another…until a couple of days later you woke up in an emergency room with your boyfriends clinging to your hands. 

“Do you want me to make you something?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve barely touched your food. If you don’t want it I can make you something else.”, Steve explains as his eyes scan you over. 

“Oh, um, no. I’m ok. I’m just not very hungry, I guess.” He nodded without saying another and you felt like you were going to explode. “How long are we going to do this?”

“Do what, honey?”

“Avoid the topic of what happened.”

“We don’t need to talk about that now.”, Eddie mumbled without even looking your way.

“I’d like to. I’d prefer it over this.” Neither man said anything as they continued to stare in front of them at their food. “Come on, guys. Yell, scream, throw things; I don’t fucking care just…talk to me.”

“Not right now.”, the metalhead repeated in a firmer tone. 

“When then, Ed?”

“Whenever Eddie chooses it seems.”, the other boy sassed throwing you off guard slightly. You half expected any hostility to be directed towards you but the way Steve said that…he was angry at his friend as well.

“Well go on. Out with it, Harrington. You’ve been fucking passive aggressive since we got to the hospital. Just fucking get it out, man.”

“Oh, it’s ok now? Now you’ll fucking listen to me. You didn’t listen to me when I asked you not to keep any drugs in this fucking apartment!”

“I didn’t expect her to dig through my things!”

“She’s an addict, you fucking idiot!”

“HEY!”, you shouted as Eddie rose from his chair, knocking it down behind him. “I said talk, not be mean. This isn’t his fault.”

“No, you’re right. It’s both your faults. I asked him not to bring drugs here because you were trying to get better, Y/N, but you were still struggling. I saw it every day you came home! You were always one step away from fucking breaking but you never said anything! Why!? Why didn’t you talk to us or hell even a doctor?! I don’t fucking care!”

“I didn’t know how…”

“Oh, fucking bullshit!”

“Because I didn’t want to burden you two! That’s all I fucking am! You both have enough going on than to deal with me.”

“So, this was better? Us finding you on the fucking bedroom floor?!” At Steve’s words, Eddie crossed his arms as he hugged himself tightly; the memory of that day hitting them both. “Did you think when we found you barely breathing, we thought ‘Oh thank God. One less problem.’? Or when we watched EMS poke and prod your pale, sweaty skin that we were thankful you did this instead of coming to us? That we would be proud that you feel better numbing yourself with that shit than being open with the men you supposedly love?!”

In anger, he flipped the dining room table making you jump and stand as everything crashed to the ground. The former jock had been holding this in for weeks and now that the flood gates had been opened, he couldn’t stop them. 

“I thought you were gonna die. You didn’t see what we saw, Y/N. All the color was gone from your face and you were so sticky with sweat…I’ll never forget that smell… You didn’t move or answer us. When EMS arrived, they were shouting a lot but the thing that stood out was ‘She’s not breathing.’”

Eddie’s own breathing stuttered and when you glanced his way you realized he was trying to control the tears that had begun to fall. 

“They asked what you took but when we told them we didn’t know but we know your history and they suggested what it could have been, I knew from his face it was something Munson brought in. I almost fucking killed him, Y/N.”

“Steve—”

“No. I’m not exaggerating or anything like that. It took all of my energy to not beat the shit out of him right then and there.”

“You think I don’t do that already?”, the metalhead growled. “You think I don’t fucking beat myself for what happened?! I stopped dealing the moment we found out about her vices. I gave Rick back everything I had because I knew that temptation would be hard for her. He needed someone to hold onto his stuff for a couple of days because Rick expected his PO to make a surprise visit. Steve, I swear to God, I didn’t think she would… I trusted her…”

After drying his eyes, Eddie squared his shoulders towards you both. 

“Maybe that was naive but she was getting better. That’s our problem, Harrington. I trust her too much and you don’t trust her at all!”

“I don’t and this is exactly the reason why!”

“I understand.” Your tiny voice cuts through their fury giving them pause. “When I get low like I did and the craving hits… it’s like being in a black hole I can’t crawl out of. I didn’t think about how my choice would affect either of you but especially Eddie. All I could think about was how I just needed the pain to stop. I am so fucking sorry. I-I-I understand if you want to take a break or some time away from me while I deal with this. I just—”

Steve cuts you off by stepping over the contents on the floor and yanking you to his chest. 

“You’re doing it again, honey. You don’t have to face this alone. We’re here to help you every step of the way.”

“Just because we’re upset with you doesn’t mean we stopped loving you.”, Eddie added before wrapping his arm around you both. “I’m sorry, Steve. I really am.”

“I forgive you. It’s going to take some time but we can get this and become better together.”

“I love you both so much and I’m so sorry for scaring you. Even if it takes my whole life I’ll make it up to you.”, you pledge as your voice is slightly muffled by the chest in front of you.

“Baby, all we want is for you to be happy. That’s all we’ve ever wanted.” Nodding, you push your face into the metalhead’s warm embrace as Steve released the two of you to pick up the table and the mess he had made. “Y/N, you remind me a lot of my mother. You are beautiful, funny, and sweet almost to a fault but when we found you… you were unresponsive like her… My dad abandoned her long before she passed but I promise, sweetheart, we’ll be right here with you every step of the way. You’re not alone.”

After kissing your forehead, Eddie knelt down to help his friend and both boys exchange a small smile before you follow his decent to help to. 

“Oh, Y/N, we got this—”

“Together, Steve. Any kind of chaos or situation life throws our way we handle it together.”

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS ZERO Animate Tokuten Drama CD “A Vampire’s Late Night Snack Terror” [Reiji ver.]

Original title: 夜更かしヴァンパイアの食テロ飯 [レイジ編]

Source: Diabolik Lovers ZERO Vol. 8 Animate Tokuten CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Katsuyuki Konishi

Translator’s note: Honestly, Reiji deserves so much more respect than what he gets. Not only does this man get up early to get chores done because his other five brothers won’t do jack-shit, he even goes out of his way to do extra groceries and make a first-class breakfast for his girl. I feel like most of the other Diaboys could barely even toast a piece of bread without burning it lol. 

*Cling cling*

You enter the kitchen.

“...Hm? What is the matter? It is still too early to be getting up.” 

You ask him why he is up already.

“Unlike the other people at this home, I happen to have an extensive to-do list, so I must get started with all of my chores early, or else I will regret it afterwards. ーー More importantly, you mentioned something about not being able to sleep? If you are feeling unwell, I can get you some medicine.”

You explain.

“Do not tell me...You cannot sleep because of the hunger? How unfortunate...I cannot believe your stomach is growling despite getting three proper meals a day. You should know better.”

You apologize. 

“Well, I shall forgive you this once. I suppose it is partially my responsibility as well for not looking after you better. ーー I suppose it cannot be helped. We still have time before we have to leave to school, so I shall make you an early breakfast.”

You seem excited. 

“Yes. If you have any requests, go ahead. As you should be aware, I am quite confident in my own cooking abilities. No matter how complex or luxurious of a dish, I will prepare it to perfection. Well then, what is your order?”

You make your request.

“What did you...say just now?”

You repeat it.

“You are asking me to make...tamagogake-gohan, out of all things? You crack a raw egg (1) over the rice, add some soy sauce and you’re done. You want me to go out of my way to make something so simple?”

You ask him if he won’t make it. 

“No, I never said that I will not make it. ...Very well! I shall show you what a real plate of eggs over rice looks like!”

*Thud*

“In which case, we must first gathered the necessary ingredients. There is no time to lose! I shall call the limousine at once. Off we go!”

You seem surprised.

“What are you doing!? Come on, make haste!”

*TIMESKIP*

*Clatter clatter*

*Rustle*

“It is truly a blessing that there are stores which are still open in the middle of the night.”

You offer to pay for the parking fee since he has his hands full with the groceries.

“That would be a big help. This is the money. Here you go.”

 You ask Reiji what is inside the bags in his arms. 

“Excuse me? Can you not tell? They’re bags of rice. There’s high-quality rice inside.”

You seem surprised.

“You came along not even realizing why we took the car? Haah...You truly need to do something about how slow-witted you are. One cannot cook without the right ingredients, so we shall we going around to gather all of the necessary things. ーー The very best ones available!

Tamagogake-gohan consists of a perfectly balanced combination of eggs, soy sauce and rice with each ingredient being brought to its full potential. We cannot afford skimping on any of them. ...I happen to be a regular at this store, you see. The rice sold at this store has been selected by a rice connoisseur of which only a few exist in this country, so it is of the highest quality!”

You tilt your head to the side.

“You do not even know what a ‘rice connoisseur’ is...? Take should be common knowledge. Make sure to do your research afterwards, understood? Anyway, we are headed for the chicken farm next. I know it is quite late, but I am sure I can arrange something by using my connections.”

You frown.

“Why the hesitation? We are talking about the eggs which are the main star of the dish! I will not make any compromises!”

*Rustle*

“No more dawdling! Let’s go!”

*TIMESKIP*

The two of you return home.

*Thud*

“...Haah. That ended up taking more time than I anticipated.”

You admit being glad that you’re finally done. 

“What nonsense are you spouting? We finally gathered all necessary ingredients! If we’re ‘done’, why did we get these fresh ingredients in the first place? But we must make haste, or else the others will wake up.”

*Rustle*

“To the kitchen at once! We shall start cooking!”

The two of you go to the kitchen.

“We shall start by cooking the rice. I believe that I can skip over the instructions for this one.”

Reiji gets the rice cooker started. 

*Beep*

“Next we must choose which bowl to serve it in.”

You ask if that is important.

“Why of course. A high class meal is not only defined by the food itself. One must choose a plate which will truly bring the dish to life.” 

*Cling cling*

“Let me think...Usually I would go for something a little more ‘art nouveau’, but how about we use this bowl today? I am glad I decided to purchase this one for moments like this.”

You note that it is quite plain.

“What are you saying? A plain bowl is a fine piece of silverware as well! Just look at the gloss and pattern, simply marvelous!”

You raise one brow.

“Why are you giving me that look? I do understand that I might sound rather out-of-character right now, but look at it like this. I even went out of my way to buy a home-style takoyaki grill to hold a takoyaki party at home, so I must keep the name of the Sakamaki household high. ...More importantly, we should finish setting the table before the rice is done cooking. Well then, please lend me a hand.”

*TIMESKIP*

Reiji opens the rice cooker.

“It turned out rather nicely. The rice looks shiny and has the right amount of fluffiness to it. As to be expected of a dish made with a product from a true rice connoisseur!”

You point out that his glasses have fogged up. 

“Do not worry about my glasses being fogged up. It is only natural for this to happen when exposed to hot steam.”

*Cling cling*

“More importantly...Let us get started! ...Allow me to show you my skills! ーー I shall start by scooping the fluffy rice into the bowl. Rather than filling it to the brim, I will serve a moderate portion. This is the most elegant way to serve it. Then on top I will sprinkle some cod roe, dried seaweed and yuzu salt. ...It would be rather boring to stick to the basic recipe, no? This is my personal interpretation of the dish, do not worry. I can assure that it will taste sublime.”

He cracks an egg.

“Well then, last but not least we crack in a fresh, raw egg and pour some of this special soy sauce on top. ーー It is done. This is the Sakamaki household’s version of tamagogake-gohan!”

*Thud*

“Well then, here you go. Please dig in while it is hot.”

 You take a bite.

“How is it?”

You tell him that it’s delicious. 

“Why of course. It is a dish which was carefully crafted to bring out all of the aromas, flavors and textures to their fullest after all. The rich eggs and the deep flavor of the soy sauce go perfectly with the fluffy rice. However, right when you think that it might be a little blend and one-toned, the cod roe, seaweed and yuzu salt kick to add a new flavor profile so you never get tired of eating it. 

This is how tamagogake-gohan should be. Do you comprehend?”

You nod.

“Pleasing your palate is child’s play. ...Well then, usually I would go wake up the others around this hour, but I suppose we can postpone it a little for today.”

You ask Reiji if he will have breakfast as well.

“Yes, I figured this was a fine opportunity for me to enjoy a meal alongside you. You could say this is my award for all the hard work I put in. You do not mind, do you?”

He joins you at the table.

“Usually there is always someone making a fuss. I rarely ever get the chance to enjoy a meal in peace. In that regard, perhaps I should be grateful to you. However, make sure to warn me before you get peckish, okay?”

You nod.

“Very well. Let us dig in then.”

*Cling*

“...Mm. I suppose having a meal together with just the two of us like this is quite enjoyable every now and then.”

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) Raw eggs are commonly consumed in Japan since the country has no history of salmonella being found in eggs. By cracking the egg on top of steaming-hot rice and instantly mixing it together, the heat from the rice will also slightly cook the egg, so it’s not 100% raw when you eat it. Still, the consistency of the dish is quite ‘goopy’ - for lack of a better word - so I understand why a lot of people (myself included) would not find it very appetizing. :p

[hannahbarberra162]

Well... at least it's in the crew's best interest to keep you healthy and well fed? It's horrible though, basically just being a resource... maybe the others will be a little nicer. Or that we grow on Marco

Like Marco said, there's not much needed to keep you technically alive...BUT

Thatch knocked on the door, tray of food in hand. He didn't need to knock, he knew you’d be sitting in your chair with your arm hooked up to the machine. He still did it out of politeness, and not wanting to startle you. He and the other Commanders had mixed feelings about you. They absolutely loved seeing the change in Pops - it was clear that the blood you’d been giving him was helping immensely. He was lively and more rested than they’d seen him in a long time. On the other hand, they pitied you. It was a sad life to live, sitting in one room for hours at a time, blood being extracted only to be healed to repeat the process over and over. He could tell you suffered for it, even if Marco said you were physically fine. But there wasn’t really anything to be done. Frankly, your life and happiness were worth much less to them than Pop’s.

Thatch peered into the room, you were exactly where he’d seen you every day he’d come to bring you lunch. You had a book in your lap but you were staring out the window at the sunny day outside, watching the birds flying in the air. Marco had started raiding everyone’s stocks of books for you. You were a voracious reader with a lot of time on your hands. You especially liked adventure and action stories. You looked over at Thatch, smiling weakly.

“Hi Thatch.”

“Brought you lunch,” he said, bringing it to you. You wouldn’t be able to get up and get it, after all. You thanked him, as you always did. For as shitty as your recent life was, you were always pleasant. It was more than he could say for other crew mates. 

“Is today the second?” you asked, looking over the food. He’d asked before what you liked to eat, since he was tasked with ensuring you got enough nutrition. You always said his food was the best you’d ever had and that you liked everything. Marco was incredibly strict about your lifestyle - you had to get enough sleep, enough water, balanced meals, and avoid drinking. The Phoenix was personally supervising to make sure that you were the healthiest person on board the ship.

“It is, why?” Thatch leaned against the wall, watching you poke around at the food. You’d been eating less lately but he didn’t want to stress you by mentioning it. You were still in a fine range for your health. 

“It’s my birthday,” you said quietly. Thatch felt his pity for you returning in spades. He’d make you a cake later today, regardless of Marco’s dietary restrictions.

“Is there anything you want?” Thatch was hoping you’d finally indicate something you wanted for dinner rather than just whatever the crew was having.

“Nothing you can give me,” you replied, looking out the window at the birds once more.

[conscydraws]

Here's one of my entries for the @mxtxfoodzine done in collaboration with my old friend Aseneth.

And here comes a story how we created it.

The goal was to create a dish that can be a gesture of love and require some dedication to cook. Something that warms you up from within and make you sigh with delight after you are done with the meal. A crispy clay pot rice dish was picked almost randomly. Aseneth saw it and was like yeah, look how wholesome and hearty it looks! It has everything: meat, mushrooms, egg and veggies! Let's make it!

Can't say it was easy tho. Neither of us had clay pots and gas stoves, so it was a quest in itself to find the right pot and an alternative way to cook the dish.

Now I can say with confidence that Asian (Korean) pots for soup or porridge work the best. They are wide and have rounded bottoms which are perfect for fitting the ingredients and forming a crust on rice. And it's nice to eat directly from them.

I've tried a number of crispy clay pot rice recipes. I made my mind that I absolutely must add pork belly there, cause I was confident Wuxian will appreciate it. You have no idea how many ways there are to cook a pork belly in China. I had no idea as well. I've bought and used ingredients which I've never tried before. I've ruined my digestion system in the process of trying variants. And yet everything seemed a bit off. Luckily I've found a recipe of cured pork belly from a 103 old woman, which her granddaughter carefully wrote down and shared with the world. And after several more attempts to squeeze some vegetables into the recipe I finally gave up and took the route of traditional approach with that special cured pork belly. The dish became balanced at last. And marinated veggies served separately turned out to make the best garnish because of their sour taste, which suited the warm meaty, oily and earthy tones of the clay pot rice. Finally I was content. This recipe was designed for Wangji to make. It had to be nothing but perfect. And it should be cooked according to Chinese cuisine traditions.

We also wanted to show how meticulous Wangji can be with cooking. That's why he's looking at the cup like he's up to murder. He's just looking very closely if this is the right amount of broth to add to the rice. The recipe is written in academic style for the same reason.

So yeah, that's the story of our 9-month journey of creating this. Was super fun and exiting, I had perfect excuses to visit my friend more frequently than usual. But at times titiring and frustrating, cause oftentimes things didn't go as planned and were very time consuming. I'm totally up to repeating a similar experience in a year or two tho :D

I'll be very glad if someone will cook this and tell me or show me how it turned out. I hope you'll like it as much as I do! 😁

[book-place]

The story of us

"The poison of an oleander" The umbrella academy! :D

[Celebration]

OMG I WAS SO EXCITED WHEN I GOT THIS BC YOURE THE FIRST PERSON TO DO THIS VERSION OF MY EVENT FOR ME <333

The Story of Us

The Umbrella Acadmey- The Poison of an Oleander

“Do you think he’ll like it?” You inquired, smiling dreamily at the thought of your father being happy with something you did.

“I dunno.” Poor Ben was struggling to stay upright as he tried to balance the heavy pot in his arms, nearly toppling over onto an expensive looking statue when turning a corner.

You and your brother had been leaving a mission the two of you had been sent out on when a plant store had caught your eye. Immediately, you had perked up and dragged Ben into the store, claiming that a plant would be a perfect gift for your father.

The boy wasn’t so certain, but one puppy-dog look from you and he- ever a good brother- had given in, sighing to himself before helping you pick out what you deemed to be the ‘perfect’ plant.

“Here should be good.” You told your brother, pointing to an open spot in the courtyard.

Ben grunted, setting the plant down before stretching out his sore arms.

“What’re you doing?” A voice asked from behind, making the two of you turn around.

You grinned at Diego, “We got dad a plant!”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Why?”

“Cause it’s a gift- duh.” You rolled your eyes slightly.

“Yeah, duh.” Ben mocked.

Agitation took over your brothers features, “I get that,” He snapped, “But why’re you getting the old man a gift?”

Before you could finish rolling your eyes and open your mouth to retort, yet another voice cut into the conversation.

“Mom told me to tell you that it’s time for lunch.”

Luther stepped out into the courtyard, falling short and warily eyeing you and Diego, who looked about a moment away from burning holes into one another with your hard glares.

You both ignored him, though, “It’s a plant, Diego. Can’t I get our dad a plant?”

With a small sigh of frustration out of your nose, you looked away from your brother and back to the prized gift.

Without knowing what possessed you, you reached out, as if to touch the plant, only for your hand to be harshly and promptly slapped away.

All four of your heads snapped up, staring wide eyed at your father, whom none of you knew was there in the first place.

“Number eight.” Reginald chided, his ever-present frown set upon his lips, “Don’t you know a poisonous oleander plant when you see one?”

Yours and Ben’s mouths dropped open.

“P-poisonous?” The boy squeaked, paling at the thought of what he had been holding in his arms.

A hard look was set upon your fathers face, “A poison that could lead to sickness, as well as even death.” His tone was clipped.

“I-we-“ You stuttered out, “The lady that sold it to us didn’t tell us!” You cried.

Reginald clicked his tongue in annoyance, “And what were you planning on doing with it, anyway!”

“We got it for you!” You told him, “We wanted to get you a plant! We had no idea it was poisonous!”

Your father stared at you in silence for a moment before turning on his heel and striding back inside, “Chop, chop, children. I believe Grace has already told you that the meal was ready.”

You and your siblings stood in an awed silence for a moment following your fathers departure, none of you quite knowing what to say.

“Holy shit,” Diego finally breathed out, “You tried to poison dad.” A grin slowly spread on his face, “You tried to poison dad.” He repeated before letting out a cackling laugh.

Luther glowered at him, “It’s not funny, someone could’ve seriously gotten hurt-“

“Hey, Klaus!” Diego ignored him, walking back towards the manor as he called out to your brother, “I dare you to come touch this cool plant outside!”

Luther paled, running after the boy in hopes of putting an end to any madness before it even began.

You and Ben looked at each other. Blinking once. Twice.

“Next time…” Ben mumbled, “Maybe we should just get him a cake or something.”

[siberat]

swindle wg thing? 🥺 I need to see that conman get BIG

Swindle’s deal goes sour

cw: weight gain, some force feeding, mild mention of emeto (no vomiting)

His spark suddenly dropped in his chasis. He couldn’t believe it! How did he manage to get into this situation? If there was a mech pulling shady deals, it was him!

Swi/ndle checked his account for the third time, each time the balance read zero. Prim/us knows where the credits went- someone must have hacked his account.

“Look…. Ahhhh….” The combat/icon shifted his weight from one pede to the other, scratching the back of his helm as he chuckled. “Turn’s out I am a little short… how’s my credit?”

“How short?” His dealer grumbled, placing his servo’s on his hips.

“Ahhh, I can get you the money in a few days…. A week max.” The smaller ‘Co/n put on his best smile.

“Do you value my time so little?” Lock/down narrowed his optics, but a grin soon appeared. “I think we can work something out.”

“That would be amazing!” Swi/ndle clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Whatcya got in mind?”

… …

‘Just keep thinking of your bounty!’ Swi/ndle repeated over and over to himself as plate after plate of foods were placed in front of him. While the instructions were clear- each plate consumed earned himself one tote- the combat/icon never thought he would have to eat to earn his bounty.

 But this was no problem, right? In fact, this exchange seemed like such a steal. Just think of the profit margin! He’d be rolling in credits in no time.

However, little did he know just how loaded these plates were. Sure, some consisted of little cakes, but there was like ten of them piled on ne dish. Others had hearty sandwiches loaded with a ton of cybermeat, cheese, lettuce, onions, tomatoes and slathered in mayo. No matter the type of food, it was available in overabundance.

The variety of the spread made the feast look as if set out for a party, but the party was just him. Swi/ndle’s optics quivered just looking at all the dishes…. And his belly gave a preemptive ache just thinking of consuming them all.

He wanted all the totes, afterall.

“Well?” Lock/down sneered, holding his palms out. “Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is. Eat up.”

“Ah…. what is that?” Swi/ndle cocked his head to the side as he watched the other set a device on the table and aimed it right toward him.

“You don’t think I’m going to take a financial hit over this soured deal, do you?” The green and black mech looked through the display, adjusting for the best view. “I plan to earn the credits back by hosting a stream.”

“Hey…. You gonna record me choking this slop down?”

Lock/down simply nodded. “Turns out there are quite a few mechs out there that would love to see you squirming under the spotlight. And who am I to deny them?”

Prim/us, he did not wish anyone else to witness this! “That’s not fair!” Just how many mechs has he upset? Doing the math quickly in his helm, the number equated to a lot.

“And neither is coming to our little meeting empty handed. Credits make the world go round. You of all mechs should know that.” The red button on top of the camera was pressed. “We are live. Put on a good show and make me some money.”

Swi/ndle hefted out a sigh. What choice did he have? Slag, remember the profits- he would definitely make a lot with no overhead. All he had to do was scarf down the meals in front of him.

Easy Peasy!

The first dish selected was a heaping bowl of mac and cheese. Picking up a spoonful, the mech shoveled it into his mouth and was immediately rewarded with such rich flavor! The texture was smooth and the sharp flavor of cheese just burst over his taste receptors. This begged for another heaping mouthful for sure. However, all good things must end, and the spoon scrapped against and empty bowl all too soon.

“Why don’t you give this a try next?”

A plate with a large lithium potato smothered with greasy bacon, sour cream and green seasonings pushed in front of him. “Sure, no problem.” Swi/ndle grinned, just thinking of the deal he was gonna walk away with. So what he had to engorge on food in front of the audience: this was easy earnings!

However, one dish after another slid his way. And dish after dish was consumed, but the pace slowed. While the energon foods were delightful, each swallow filled his tummy more and more. Soon, he could feel his abdominal plating grow uncomfortably tight. Dull aches surfaced, pinging his processor that no more food was needed.

“Finished already?” Lock/down tutted, shaking his helm in disappointment. “I didn’t think you would quit so easily.”

“I’m not finished yet!” Swi/ndle grumbled, rubbing a servo over his swelled belly. “I got plenty of room left!”

Was there more room? There had to be: he only earned a measly eight totes. He needed much more than that!

“I would hate to disappoint your adoring fans…” As if on que, an assortment of pings erupted from the broadcasting device.

Swi/ndle furrowed his optics as another plate was dug into. Fried cyberchicken, and you can bet that meat was sucked from the framework! As if putting on a show, Swi/ndle sucked his greasy fingers clean while looking into the camera, then patted at his bloated stomach. “Is that all you got?”

More plates were pushed his way, and the struggle became real. After each bite, his belly would let out a troubled gurgle. After each swallow, he’d be gasping for breath. After each plate finished, sweat would be dripping from his brow. His abdomen was obnoxiously distorted and quivered in pain! And only three more plates had been finished.

“I think after all that food, you need to wet your whistle.” Lock/down stifled a grin.

 Swi/ndle knew this wasn’t good, but he was thirsty. A large pitcher of light green liquid was placed in front of him.

“Give that a taste, hm?”

“Got a glass?” Swi/ndle asked, giving the flab that squished out his seams a pinch.

“Drink it from the canister, piggy.”

The solo combat/icon reluctantly obeyed and brought the large pitcher to his lips. It was cold and very sweet tasting! However, he noted how thick the liquid was as it pured into his mouth. “What the slag is this?” Swi/ndle coughed, returning the picture to the table.

Lock/down’s hands held the canister in it’s spot. “Does it matter? Chug it.”

Swi/ndle’s optics grew. The recording device sang out pings and whistles. He knew that sound to be credits being sent in via the livestream. And those noises only multiplied as the canister was raised to the chubby mech’s lips.

And the con artist had no choice but to drink. And with each gulp, he swore his belly bulged out even more! His plating grew tight, and not even halfway through the drink, a loud pang rang through the air.

Dear Prim/us, was that his abdominal plating shooting across the room? The pressure on his abdomen decreased and something heavy but soft bounced on his lap. Exploring servo’s rubbed the mass, confirming yes, this was his protomesh belly resting upon his thighs, fully exposed for the world to see.

How embarrassing! And painful! The mass ached as if the beachball of the belly was about to pop. But the cream kept puring down his maws, and the pained mech kept swallowing. More spasms trembled though his belly.

How much more could his poor tanks endure?

When the canister finally lowered from his lips, Swi/ndle gasped. What a relief to be able to breath in air to cool off his warming frame! But this was short lived. His tummy cramped and spasmed, it’s surface itching from the freshly acquired stretchmarks.

Isn’t that just peachy?

Swi/ndle whined as his belly churned, its surface shaking like an earthquake. A sharp and clenching ached formed from deep within. This uncomfortable feeling caused the combinor’s optics to shoot wide open.

Something was coming up. He could feel the pressure rising, creating a stabbing sensation along his internal digestion tract. All the while, the chimes rang, reminding the pained mech he was in front of an audience. Prim/us, if he purged, he would be mortified!

Not to mention he would most likely have to return the totes if he lost the meals.

Swi/ndle swallowed hard a few times, attempting to coax his belly’s contents to stay put, but this was a losing battle. Whatever this feeling was, it was rising rapidly. He barely had time to moan before his throat tubing widened, releasing an obnoxiously wet belch in the air.

“Bllllllaaaaaaaaaarrrrruuuuuughgggghhhhhhhhh….” It was loud. It was painful. It echoed through the room.

And the viewers went wild, but all Swi/ndle could do was sit there, gasping for breath as he rubbed his obnoxiously stuffed belly.

“Have you had enough?” Lock/down chuckled. “You only earned twelve totes.”

“That’s it?” Swi/ndle griped, feeling incredibly overstuffed and sick. The burps kept coming, and his belly kept growling. “You sure you counted correctly?”

That wasn’t nearly as much as he wanted to take home!

But one troubled question festered in his processor: which dish would be easy to consume next?

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Wheel of Time! Chapter 29: A Trap to Spring

Here there be spoilers! And snacks. But they're fortune cookies and the fortunes are just more spoilers for the whole book series so, y'know.

This chapter has the Flame of Tar Valon icon because we're focused on our Accepted girls while Nynaeve has a secret meeting with the Amyrlin.

It was a measure of her upset that she used such language, and another that she did not even notice she had done it.

Pretty interesting for the POV to note their unawareness of something, but that's Nynaeve for you.

She was more than merely stout, with layers of chins, and a spotless white apron that could have made three novice dresses. She carried her own long-handled wooden spoon like a scepter. It was not for stirring, that spoon. It was for directing those under her, and smacking those who were not building character quickly enough to suit her.

Laras isn't an innkeeper, but the fatness = goodness equation still applies to her, even if she is a bit of a tyrant.

But to be treated as a lazy, none-too-bright child by this Laras, to be forced to curtsy and scurry for this woman she could have put in her place with a few well-chosen words back home—that made her grind her teeth almost as much as did the thought of Moiraine.

Part of the reason Nynaeve ends up such a good Aes Sedai is that she gets to sidestep this part of the initiation process by skipping being a Novice and only spending a few days in the Tower being punished.

She stared at the women slicing oatcake. She glared at the women peeling vegetables. She sneered into the soup kettles, then at the women tending them; the women became engrossed in studying the surface of the soup. Her frown set the girls carrying plates and bowls out to the dining hall to a run. Her glower put the novices darting like mice sighting a cat.

Not one of Siuan's best spent moments, if you ask me. I get why she's playing this character, but she's rather too far into it. Though I guess in her mind making Laras's title official at the end of the chapter balances the books, and since Laras will be saving her life I guess she's right.

“If they are this easily cowed,” she muttered softly, “perhaps they really have been getting away with too much for too long.”

An amusing running theme we'll see in our Aes Sedai and for that matter the Darkfriends going forward, and some might argue something to play out in real life as well.

Laras came waddling faster than Nynaeve had ever seen the woman move before, darting at Elayne and Egwene to seize an ear of each, all the while repeating, “Yes, Mother. Immediately, Mother. As you command, Mother.” She hurried the two young women out of the kitchen as if eager to escape the Amyrlin’s stare.

She is eager, Nynaeve. The Amyrlin probably almost never comes into the kitchens except during important feastdays or diplomatic events and she's probably usually in a better mood.

“I planned to have you brought to my study after the midday meal. To scold you for not choosing your studies, so I implied to Leane. But there is news that could not wait. Sheriam found another Gray Man. A woman. Dead as last week’s fish, and not a mark on her. She was laid out as if resting, right in the middle of Sheriam’s bed. Not very pleasant for Sheriam.”

This Dead Man is meant to exonerate Sheriam so that she seems like a target of the Dark instead of one of its allies, but unfortunately no one has the sense to ask the good question, "Why would she be targeted by the Dark?" or even "Why this roundabout use of a threat instead of using a Gray Man for its intended purpose?" though Nynaeve at least has the sense to point out that Sheriam is aware of the investigation, not that Siuan listens. And Nynaeve being suspicious of Sheriam after being so clearly unreliable in her internal narration helps trick the reader too.

She could not make herself entirely trust the woman wearing the seven-striped stole—or any woman who could wear the shawl, for that matter—and it seemed best to keep some things in reserve.

*headdesks over everyone's continued refusal to talk to one another*

As for Else Grinwell. . . . I remember the girl. She could have learned, had she applied herself, but all she wanted was to smile at the men at the Warders’ practice yard. Else Grinwell was put on a trading vessel and sent back to her mother ten days ago.

And thus the characters become aware of the deception that we've known has been going on for some time. Unfortunately they never do solve this mystery, but at least it's a complete non-issue compared to everything else.

“And what do you mean to do about this . . . so-obvious trap?” the Amyrlin said softly, still staring over the kitchen, away from Nynaeve. “Do you mean to fall into this one, too?”

And the next one and the next one and the next, creeping in the pretty noose from trap to trap.

“I will put gold in your room for the journey. And I will let it be whispered about that I have sent you out to a farm to hoe cabbages. Will Elayne be going with you?”

Since I've had some accuse me of being too on the gals' side, let's note that the timeline of this chapter (midday) and that Mat's escape is probably several hours from now means that the girls make absolutely no effort to help fund him on his mission for them even when they have the resources to do so. Not being able to find time to visit him immediately in light of all that's happened is one thing, not taking the time do so as everything starts into motion is part of the callous disregard for him that will take Birgitte to fix.

Putting Morgase back on the proper path whether she wants to go or not will be hard enough without her thinking I’ve sent her daughter to sea in a leaky skiff. This way I can say straight out that it was none of my doing.

Note how the Oaths work on perception of truth instead of absolute truth; Siuan is absolutely an accomplice in the scheme to throw a princess at the Darkfriends but she doesn't see herself as complicit so she can say she isn't.

No more than a dozen women in the Tower know what Callandor is, and perhaps as many outside. The High Lords of Tear know, but they never speak of it except when a Lord of the Land is told on being raised. The Sword That Cannot Be Touched is a sa’angreal, girl. Only two more powerful were ever made, and thank the Light, neither of those was ever used. With Callandor in your hands, child, you could level a city at one blow.

I doubt any of the people Siuan mentions knows Callandor's true purpose, and note as well how the canon will drift on the subject. Right now, Callandor is the thirdmost powerful sa'angreal ever made (and apparently a threat in the hands of the Black Ajah even though it's clearly for a dude) and the two more powerful, never used amplifiers that exceed it are the individual Choedan Kal statues. At some point later, possibly purely a point of Brandon's confusion but maybe not I genuinely don't remember, it will become the thirdmost powerful male sa'angreal and presumably fourthmost overall, with Sakarnen taking the slot. That said, even Siuan isn't an infalliable source, so we can assume her ignorance of Sakarnen is because it ended up in Shara which is well outside of her wheelhouse.

“Oh, they do hate it, child. Hate it, and fear it. When they find a Tairen girl who can channel, they bundle her onto a ship for Tar Valon before the day is done, with hardly time to speak goodbyes to her family.”

It's lucky for Siuan that they don't just get killed.

Their fortress that has broken a hundred armies will fall as one of the signs the Dragon is Reborn. Not even the only sign; just one. How that must rankle their proud hearts. Their downfall will not even be the one great sign of the world’s change.

Funnily enough for Siuan and Tairien pride, the fall of the Stone does end up being the great sign that convinces the most people in the west.

You are a fine judge of character, child. You must have done well as the Wisdom of your village. It was Laras who went to Sheriam and demanded to know how long you three are to be kept to the dirtiest and hardest work, without a turn at lighter. She said she would not be a party to breaking any woman’s health or spirit, no matter what I said.

Nynaeve is in some ways even haughtier than the actual princess, though since she's spent most of her life as the Wisdom or her heir apparent, she has the same archetypal background, so it makes sense.

Laras’ frown deepened, and she began tapping her spoon on her thigh, apparently forgetting that for once it had been used for its intended purpose.

I imagine Laras finds Nynaeve's smile so unpleasant because it's so forced, you know? It must feel almost like mockery.

“We leave after the washing up is done,” she told them, “just as quickly as we can fetch our belongings from our rooms.”

So again: they absolutely have time to say goodbye to Mat and toss him a bit of coin, but don't even think about it because he's already doing it for him so why think about him again? Probably the reason Nynaeve will spend four or five books not bothering to tell Rand that Mat is missing, presumed dead, in Ebou Dar is that she told him to find a servant to fetch her some tea right before that wall collapsed and immediately put him out of her mind except for the occasional certainty that she's much thirstier than she should be.

Next time: Mat has a night on the town!

[ask-good-cop-bad-cop]

Aftermath

Bad Cop's search for something to restore Good Cop's face didn't really yield the results he was looking for. There was nothing among the relics that could fully reverse what the Scepter had done to him. The best he could find was the Rod of Shar'Pée, which left permanent black marks on the skin that seemed to take on a life of their own. Good Cop deserved so much better than the hack job Bad was about to give him, but it was their only option. He dragged the lengthy relic into the office, the closest space with enough room to maneuver the Rod.

Something tucked into the corner of the dimly lit room caught his eye then. He paused and set the relic down to investigate.

Halfway hidden behind some of the machinery for the TAKOS was a large metal bin. A piece of masking tape had been slapped on top, the word "DE-KRAGLER" written in permanent marker on it. Bad Cop's heart lurched.

Business had a cure for the Kragle??

He shook his head at himself. He could investigate that further in a minute. Good Cop was more awake now, groggily poking at him in a bid for control. "Just a minute, buddy." He murmured. He took a deep breath and pulled the cap off of the relic before switching their face, and began to draw.

Bad Cop stood waiting outside the room with a nurse, waiting to be allowed in. Good Cop had switched in once Bad had drawn a new face onto him, taken one look around, and decided he wasn't awake enough yet to manage the situation at hand. His coordination and balance were off to an uncomfortable degree, and neither of them was certain how much of that was due to Good being in a coma for three days, and how much was due to him needing to adjust to his new face. Bad hadn't managed to get his eyes drawn back on very evenly.

But now they were at the hospital. The doctors had taken a look at them as well, and had decided there wasn't much they could do to help them, aside from insisting they got a hearty meal and a good night's rest and soon. But neither could rest until they knew for sure their parents would be okay. Bad had nearly cried for the second time that day when he finally got them de-Kragled and found they were still alive. Being Kragled seemed to have put them into some sort of stasis. He'd roped Frank into helping him to carry them to his cruiser, and sped his way to the hospital.

Finally they were permitted entrance. Bad Cop stepped into the room after the doctors left, trying his best not to fidget. Their parents were awake and aware and sitting up. That was a good sign. The frown on their mother's face, however? Not so much.

"William." She greeted.

"Hi, Mom." He said quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I just woke up from being Kragled by my own son." He winced. "I think you have a lot of explaining to do."

"I'm sorry!" He cried. "I didn't want to either, but I... but he..." Bad Cop wilted. "I'm sorry." He repeated pathetically. "I really don't have an excuse."

"No, you don't."

Good Cop couldn't take it anymore, nearly drowning in Bad Cop's despair, and switched out. That surprised their parents. "Son...?" Pa ventured.

"Please don't hold it against him." Good Cop said. "We really didn't have a choice. Even if Bad had refused, Business still would have Kragled you anyway, just out of spite. He knew that. I knew that."

"But you still said no?"

"I did." Good Cop agreed. "I didn't KNOW Business would try to kill me as a result. I think Bad suspected it though, which was why he tried to shush me. The moment Business brought you into his office... Bad already knew we were going to lose you. There was no way around it. And then I just had to argue and make him nearly lose me too. But Mom, Dad... The Master Builders were at the Tower. Bad let them go. The Kragle's been capped. It can't hurt anyone else ever again."

Their parents were silent as they absorbed this information. "How are we here?" Pa asked after a few minutes.

"Business had some de-Kragler in his office. We don't know why or what that could mean. We're just happy we were able to get you back." Ma was silent for a minute longer, then opened her arms to them. Good Cop gratefully stepped forward to accept the hug. "You know Liam loves you two more than anything. He wouldn't have done it if there was ANY way around it."

Ma held them tightly. "I know." She said eventually. "I know... After what that man did to you, I should have realized as much myself. I'm so sorry, boys... We're happy to have you back, too. Both of you. Liam, come here, son."

Bad Cop switched out again. "Yes, Mommy...?"

Ma kissed his forehead. "I still love you."

He sobbed into her shoulder.

[fairybinie]

COPYCCINO — 43: moment of weakness

synopsis: soobin has been talking to who he thought was his unrequited crush on messages, only to find out through a visit to their coffee shop that it was in fact not them. not only does he meet the real y/n, he runs into their friend yeonjun, an ex friend of his who he has some unresolved issues with. as soobin and the real y/n are getting to know each other, yeonjun and soobin are working through their misunderstandings, as well as trying to figure out who the catfish was.

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a/n: written (2.6k) + smau. like one swear word, not proofread, sorry for another written chapter and pls ignore my failed attempts to cover up my typos 😭

...

“there’s something what?” y/n asks while they groggily tie their shoes. they've been in bed all day, they look far from presentable but they should at least achieve the goal that is being able to stand up. they had been glued to their bed all day, fixating their eyes on their computer screen for half of it. sad movies occupying their screen, of course.

“something’s waiting for you down in the lobby,” sieun confirms, getting ready herself. she has to go back into her building for the internship, so she might as well get ready alongside y/n so they feel less alone. 

little do they know. 

y/n stands up slowly, having to balance themselves on their own two feet when they feel the jelly sensation hit their lower half. they attempt to take off their glasses, only to realize that they’re very much blind without them. they don’t feel like putting their contacts on, let alone get dressed into something more presentable. their hoodie and sweats will have to do. 

“i haven’t ordered anything though,” y/n speaks lowly after a yawn escapes from their lips. they’re slightly suspicious of sieun, not expecting anything at this point. too much has gone wrong for them to even assume. 

“that’s what the receptionist told me when i walked in,” sieun nonchalantly replies while wrapping the last shoelace in bunny ears. she gets up from her bed and begins to drag y/n to head outside before they can protest. “here, i’ll walk down with you.” 

sieun shuts the door behind them as the two head downstairs into the lobby. it takes a moment for the brightness of the hallway to adjust in y/n’s eyes, considering their room had been dimly lit. they walk past yeonjun and taehyun’s shared room, along with soobin and beomgyu’s, and kai’s solo room. they can’t help but sigh in their head, still in denial that last night really happened. they haven’t spoken to anyone other than sieun since the event occurred, and they can say that they’re at least appreciative of her efforts. sieun tried to get them to confide in her, but it was too much to even repeat. this morning sieun even brought them leftovers from her company breakfast, assuming y/n hadn’t eaten anything yet. they must’ve been right, considering the meal was gone by the time she came back. 

if y/n doesn’t have anyone, at least they can hope they still have sieun.

their thoughts become interrupted when they realize they’re arriving close to the main lobby, mentally preparing for what could come next. they haven’t been here since yesterday and it already seems to look different, like some furniture was reorganized. or maybe they’re just losing it.  

y/n loses all sense of reality, just realizing that they’ve been riding in an elevator all this time. the two doors open, revealing their desired destination. they walk out cautiously, still suspicious of what’s to come. sieun steps outside more confidently, walking ahead of y/n so they have a path to follow. y/n begins to look around the lobby to notice anything, and there was no such luck until they set their gaze on the couch that’s near the receptionist area. 

taehyun is sitting right there. 

as if he sensed the two of him, taehyun gets up from his seat making eye contact with solely y/n. out of confusion, y/n looks back to expect some kind of answer from sieun, but sieun just gives them a comforting smile as she waves goodbye, exiting the building. y/n slowly glances back at taehyun, almost afraid that he’s not really there. he very much is. y/n looks around to see if anyone else is there, soobin, yeonjun, kai or even beomgyu for that matter. but it’s just taehyun. it takes them a moment to wrap their mind around it. this is the first time they’re seeing him since last night, they don’t know where his stance is. is he just as angry with them? did he want to meet with them so he could yell at them too? might as well cross everyone off the list. 

with these thoughts in mind, it hits y/n like a fasting train that they didn’t just imagine everything. this is the current state everyone is in. they broke every relationship. they feel their eyes begin to water, hoping that none of them fall to make taehyun notice. but taehyun notices everything. he can tell that they’re not okay. 

taehyun walks a bit further in his step, catching y/n’s attention. he remains still for a couple seconds before a soft expression takes over his face as his arms reach out into the air. those two gestures say more than enough to y/n, and it’s this moment where they let all their bottled up emotions run loose, letting the waterworks take over. on instinct, they rush into taehyun’s arms, letting out a much needed sob. taehyun’s embrace is tight and secure, making sure y/n feels as safe as they could. he can feel the hem of his t-shirt begin to soak up, but he doesn’t care. he brings his hand up to soothe y/n’s head, indirectly shushing them to calm down. his fingertips massage into y/n’s scalp, a habit of his he’s used to when he hugs people. it’s not often, but he still does it. 

taehyun notices that the receptionist is looking their way, probably wondering what situation is going on. at first she seems softhearted, maybe these two have reunited after several years. but her gaze shifts into more concern after looking at the expression on taehyun’s face, now realizing that something is wrong. she sends taehyun a sympathetic nod and goes back to her tasks. taehyun takes the hint that this is not the place to be doing this. 

“hey, let’s go over there yeah?” he speaks quietly into y/n’s ear, guiding them into a nearby lounge area. luckily there’s no one inside, so they could have the privacy that they need. y/n is still under taehyun’s embrace, their face tucked away into his chest so they’re barely able to walk. they’re thankful that taehyun manages to lead them around. they assume that they switched room as they begin to feel taehyun pull away from the close proximity, coming to terms with the present once again. 

they get used to the new atmosphere. the room looks similar to the main lobby, except there's some game stands around, a massive TV to take up the room, along with a pool table in the corner. there are a couple couches in different parts of the room, taehyun guides them to the nearest one. they sit down, y/n immediately wanting to live inside this couch to never come out from it again. they don’t seem to realize that they’re avoiding eye contact until taehyun taps on their crossed knee softly, looking up into his eyes. his arm stretches out to rest on the couch and looks at y/n sincerely. 

“talk to me.” 

and with those words, y/n immediately gives into their emotions. you would think they had no more tears to shed, but they seem to keep coming. it takes a couple sniffles for them to think about what they could say without coming across all over the place. 

“i didn’t want any of this to happen,” they start off in a whisper. “i just wanted them to meet, how was i supposed to know that they hated each other?” taehyun feels the need to give his thoughts, but he waits for y/n to finish. 

“they’re all mad at me for doing something i didn't mean to do,” y/n brings their hands to massage their temples to remain as calm as they could be. “i didn't do any of this on purpose.” 

“…they all left me. ju-” y/n stops in their place and shuts their eyes in exhaustion. “yeonjun. soobin. even kai.” 

“so did you,” they say with a softer tone, barely audible but enough for taehyun to hear. they feel the need to say more, their mouth open as they think of something more. they’re frustrated with themselves when their words don’t come to mind, closing their mouth as they shake their head in hopelessness. they cover their face with their hands as they let out a much needed sigh. 

“i’m not mad at you.” 

y/n brings their head up slowly, unsure if they heard him correctly. taehyun appears to be dead serious, and the solemn expression on their face turns into hope. 

“i didn’t walk out because i was upset with you, more so that i could stop yeonjun from doing anything stupid,” taehyun explains with a bit of amusement in his voice. “our room is right next to soobin’s.” y/n doesn’t deny the fact, going back to that moment it makes sense for taehyun to do that. 

taehyun goes back to what y/n had said in the first place with a more serious tone. “i can’t be mad at you when even i didn’t know. you’re right, yeonjun never told us about soobin directly.” 

“am i bummed you didn’t tell us how you and soobin first met, sure,” taehyun feels the need to mention his feelings if he’s being honest. “but i’m assuming there’s a reason for that.” 

y/n tilts their head as they suck in some air, quickly exhaling some of it out. “it’s a long story. we’ll tell you one day.” 

taehyun nods slowly and a comfortable silence ensues. y/n is now assured that at least one more person isn’t upset with them. they’re glad that it’s taehyun of all people, they could use some of his wise words. after some time with their thoughts, taehyun speaks again. 

“it’s not really your fault, if you think about it.” taehyun proposes, almost like all the evidence is piecing together in his head. this fuels y/n’s curiosity. this whole time they've been self pitying themselves, being that they’re the reason they ruined everything. there’s a slight chance that there isn’t? they’re all ears. 

“again, yeonjun and soobin didn’t tell you anything,” taehyun repeats, as if he’s trying to get that through y/n’s head. “i think the fact that they’re both shocked to see each other has them pinning everything onto you when they should realize what they’re doing wrong too.” 

y/n takes a moment to process what taehyun is saying and it all soon makes sense to them. the only thing y/n could’ve done wrong is address that yeonjun was soobin and vice versa. but they didn’t plan for all of this to happen. yeonjun can only see the fact that soobin is y/n’s boyfriend, so of course he’s going to assume this was all some personal agenda against him. the same thing could go for soobin. they each share that quality, it’s something that they have in common. it all leads to one thing. 

this isn’t y/n’s fault. 

“you’re right,” y/n says with realization. taehyun nods like if he already knows he’s right, which makes y/n chuckle to themselves. only taehyun and his taehyun-like manner can bring them some happiness. 

“and kai,” taehyun draws in his breath in attempt to come up with an excuse for kai. “i think he’s also unleashing his feelings onto you considering yeonjun yelled at him too.” 

there’s no doubt that y/n still feels bad about that. all they can do is shift their eyebrows in sadness, hoping that they can get through kai. another silence takes over as the two admire the scenery around them, taking a momentary break from the conversation at hand. y/n sets eyes onto the pool table, thinking about how much yeonjun would enjoy it. their gaze shifts over to the arcade machines, already imagining how beomgyu and kai would be destroying each other to get the highest score. a sad smile takes over their face when they lock eyes with the loveseat in the corner, perfect view of the TV in the room. y/n and soobin’s favorite hobby was watching TV together, all cuddled up in each other’s warmth. now they only feel cold, and they can’t help but wonder if soobin feels it too. a voice captures y/n’s attention and they enter reality yet again. 

“sieun told me you were packing your things,” y/n locks eyes with taehyun, who has a concerned look on his face. “are you planning to leave?” 

y/n considers telling him about the anonymous texts they got. if they’re being honest, it did get to them a bit. they did pack their things. but after standing the pile that was their closed suitcases, sieun walking in on them asking if they wanted to visit their company, they realized that they shouldn’t give in. they don’t want to leave these people behind, these are their best friends. their boyfriend. things may be rocky, but they don’t believe in starting over when they wish to stay with what they already have. did they mope around in their bed all day, yes. somehow it made them feel better than just leaving all together. taehyun’s looking at them with a concentrated set of eyes, and they choose to leave that part out. there’s already too much going on. 

“yeah, all of this got to me pretty bad,” which technically isn’t a lie. before taehyun can protest they continue to say, “but i’m not going to. it was just a moment of weakness.” 

taehyun can’t push away the fact that y/n felt this way, and it makes him only want to fix all this even more. he just has to use that big brain of his. 

pleased with where they’ve gotten, they each settle to end the conversation there. at least y/n knows where taehyun is at, and that they could still confide in him. they didn’t lose him. the two get up from their seats and taehyun begins to walk y/n over to their room, going through the process yet again. when they managed to get out of the elevator, they make way to y/n’s door and they remain in their positions. 

“has j-” y/n catches themselves in their place and corrects themselves. “has yeonjun spoken to you?” referring to the fact that they’re rooming together. the thought has crossed their mind, and they’re curious to see if he has. 

“no, he hasn’t said one word to me,” taehyun replies honestly. the two share a look of disappointment and y/n nods sadly. they think of how to say their goodbyes, until they realized they haven’t said the one thing they were hoping to disclose. 

“i’m sorry.” 

taehyun shakes his head vigorously, the gesture of his head complimenting his actions. “you don’t need to apologize to me, i promise we’re okay.” 

y/n smiles softly as they feel the tears begin to take over their eyes yet again, one managing to escape past their cheek. taehyun smiles, showcasing his dimple, and brings y/n into another hug, rubbing circles across their back. y/n hold around taehyun’s neck is strong, a sniffle being heard from their side.

“thank you, taehyun.” is all they could say.  

they hear taehyun hum as he pulls them apart, resting his hands on y/n’s shoulders for a quick second before he brings them to wipe the tears off their face. he looks at them straight in the eyes with so much genuineness. 

“and you didn’t lose your nickname privileges with me.” 

this brings a smile onto y/n’s face, taehyun can’t help but reciprocate the feeling. he makes his way over to his door, sending y/n a friendly nod before he steps inside. y/n lets out one last sniffle before the smile reappears, opening and closing the door right behind them. 

...

please do not translate, modify or repost on other platforms.

© fairybinie

[llitchilitchi]

// a snippet of my oblivion au that I wrote a couple days ago because chat asked for it last night. chronologically this part takes place during the ‘path of dawn‘ quest, several days after this

warnings: they kill a man, dream has a panic attack

Luther Broad’s Boarding House is a lot bigger on the inside than it appears from the streets of the Elven Gardens District. The early afternoon sun casts the room in soft light, by now mostly empty as people move on with their days and return to their duties. Only couple people remain: a gossiping couple of girls with half empty glasses of wine, a middle aged man in the corner who looks up from his book as the door closes behind Dream, and a young man at the bar engaging in conversation with the bartender in a familiar white bandana.

Dream smiles, strolls past the empty tables and takes a seat by Sapnap’s side. The young Blade spares him a single glare, near identical to the one he gave him as he entered his cell. It seems like a lifetime ago. He turns back to his pint and Dream leans on the bar as the owner drops the conversation and asks Dream for his order.

“Just some ale, thank you,” Dream tells him, deflecting any further attempts at an offer of a meal or a bed.

Sapnap chokes on his beer at the sound of Dream’s voice and turns to the dunmer with eyes wide in disbelief.

“Dream?” he whispers as the barkeep passes Dream his drink.

“Long time no see.”

“Long time indeed!” Sapnap shakes his head, looks Dream up and down. His eyes linger on Dream’s curls. “Shit, you look like a whole different person. Or like a dandelion puff. Fuck.”

Dream laughs, short yet sincere, the sound more of a breathless wheeze than a full laugh. “Well, thanks. It’s good to see you too, I guess.”

Sapnap nods, once, twice, and his expression turns solemn. “Listen,” his voice drops into a whisper once more, “I’m being watched. Just do what I say.”

Dream hums in reply. He follows Sapnap’s gaze to the corner of the inn, towards the man with the book.

“I’m going to get up once I finish my drink,” Sapnap explains. He takes a sip from his mug, long and deliberate. “I’ll walk out of here. The guy in the corner will follow me. You go after him.”

Dream glances at the man in the corner. His eyes are fixed on Sapnap’s back.

“Ready when you are.”

Sapnap tips the mug back, slams it back on the barwith a satisfied grunt. “Good. I want to see what he’ll do.”

He stands up then, offering the barkeep a couple pleasantries before the man laughs and nods his head towards the door in the back of the room. Sapnap mutters his thanks and stumbles towards the door with little grace. As soon as the door shuts behind him, the man in the corner stands and follows.

The door never has the chance to close a second time. Dream follows after him quick and slides his foot into the gap before it can shut close, and he makes sure the door makes no sound as he slips in.

The stairway is cast in shadows, the little light coming from below flickering and Dream presses himself to the wall where the light won’t reach.

The man descends the stairs, following the sound of Sapnap’s footsteps, and as he reaches the mid section, his hand goes to his hip, hovering over the hilt of a knife, and Dream curses under his breath.

He doesn’t think, taking two steps at a time as the man draws the blade. He shoves the man, making him stumble and the man shouts in surprise. By the time Dream regains his balance Sapnap has drawn his sword and drove it through the man’s middle. He looks up just to see Sapnap pull the sword out and slice through his throat with ease.

“Fuck,” Dream breathes. The air is heavy with copper as the body hits the old stone floor.

“Search his body,” Sapnap orders, his voice even.

“What?”

“Search his body,” he repeats and flicks his wrist, shaking the blood off his sword. “I’ll keep an eye out in case any of his friends are nearby.”

Dream gapes but doesn’t object, only nodding as he kneels by the man’s corpse. His nose twitches as he’s hit with the smell of blood and piss pooling around him.

The body has little to offer, a couple of septims that Dream pockets before patting the man down once more. He had a book on him, Dream thinks, and he knows it was not left behind on the man’s seat when he left.

He finds it tucked into his coat pocket, a small book bound in deep red leather. A strange book for certain, with ornate cover and a lengthy title in faded gold lettering, though what makes Dream stop is the title of the book, translated below the golden letters into the daedric alphabet. Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes, volume 1.

He stands and steps away, further from the pooling blood and holds the book up.

“I think I got something.”

Sapnap steps over the body and sheaths his sword, pulling Dream into a one armed hug with his free hand.

“Good work,” he tells him, heading back for the stairs. “I am glad to see you by the way, you just caught me at a bad time.”

“I figured,” Dream mutters. He turns back, towards the dead man. “We just killed a civilian.”

“He wasn’t a civilian,” Sapnap corrects him. “He was part of the Mythic Dawn- it’s the cult that killed the emperor.” He pulls Dream away from the body, towards the exit while Dream blinks slowly, and the information processes.

“The what?”

“Apparently they worship Mehrunes Dagon,” Sapnap continues. “Nasty shit. I’ve been tracking their agents in the Imperial City. I guess they noticed.”

“And we’re just- what? Leaving a body here? Sapnap we just killed a person! In a public space!”

“Right, right. Official Blades business. I’ll handle this, don’t worry your fluffy head over it.”

He leads him back to the bar, guides him to sit on a stool as he turns to the owner. Dream tunes the rest of the conversation out and he notices only when Sapnap slides another pint towards him.

“Drink up,” he tells him, and Dream doesn’t have the energy left to object. He takes a long sip, until his throat hurts from swallowing, but the cold liquid clears his mind, if only a little.

“There. You already look better,” Sapnap tells him and he pats his back. “What about you?”

“I found Uriel’s heir,” Dream replies. His voice is too small but at least he found it, somewhere. “I- his name’s George.”

“Oh thank Talos he lives!” Sapnap clicks their mugs together. “To George Septim, then! We shall restore him to the throne!”

“It won’t be that easy,” Dream says as Sapnap drinks his ale. He waits until the Blade sets his drink down. “We lost the Amulet.”

“You-”

“I went to Weynon Priory as you told me,” Dream rushes to explain. His ears twitch. “I found Bad, gave him the damned thing- He told me to go search for George. You’ve- you’ve heard of Kvatch, right? You must have, shit, of course you’ve heard of Kvatch! The city was destroyed, overrun by daedra-” With each sentence he picks up pace, right ear twitching as he thinks back to the charred stone and the smell of sulphur. “He was- I found him in the chapel, but first- the city gate was blocked, and there was- the portal to Oblivion itself, and the daedra kept coming, and there was so much lava and the stairs and it just kept going and I-”

He flinches back when Sapnap rests his hands on his shoulders and he blinks back tears. His vision clears, and Sapnap is looking at him with worry.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Deep breaths, okay? You’re not there anymore. Drink some more, it’s gonna clear your head. We’re back in the Imperial City. No more daedra.”

“I’m sorry.” Dream’s voice cracks.

“It’s okay,” Sapnap says, and then again when Dream does not believe him. “You saved the city,” he reminds. “You saved all those people. You saved George.”

Dream does not grace that with an answer.

They drink in silence, until the ale untangles Dream’s tongue once more.

“I brought George to Bad, and he said it would be best they hide in Cloud Ruler Temple.” His voice shakes as he speaks. “When- when we got back to Weynon Priory, there were these… the same people who were there, back then, when…” When the Emperor died, he wants to say. Sapnap nods when the words die in his throat instead. “We got there late. There were just… a couple left. They stayed behind to finish off who was left in the Priory. By the time we found Bad they fled with the Amulet.”

Sapnap nudges his knee against Dream’s. “You did what you could,” he reassures. “If Bad couldn’t do anything, neither could you. Or anyone, for that matter. You still managed to find George. Hope’s not lost yet.”

How strange, Dream thinks as a smile tugs at his lips. Bad said the same thing.

[official-wonho]

The secret to Wonho's abs: two 2-hour gym sessions and no instant ramen

K-pop's resident beefcake shares his well-oiled fitness and diet routine

K-pop idol Wonho's love of fitness is something he developed only when he started training to become a performer, which makes his status as the industry's resident hunk even more impressive. Even if you've never heard any of his music (we recommend you hit ‘add to library’), you've likely seen a fancam or two of him grace your Twitter timeline or Instagram explore page. To put it plainly, he's got a rockin' bod.

All abs, thighs and arms, Wonho has been a staple in K-pop since 2015 when he debuted with the group Monsta X, who quickly became known for the masculine ‘beast idol’ concept. Since 2020, he's embarked solo, infusing that strong outer appearance with something more vulnerable. He's just released his second single album Bittersweet, which he's been promoting since early October. The promotions for a K-pop idol are gruelling and intense. Never just about an expertly conceptualised music video, they also include early start appearances on music shows, long interview days and ‘fan calls’ that involve a steady stream of Facetimes with fans who win the chance to talk to their fave starts off the back of buying albums. The process is a well-oiled machine, and so is the fitness routine and diet that Wonho has developed alongside it.

Not one to shy away from a revealing stage costume that shows off his six-pack in equal measure to his dance moves, or to entice fans with an expertly taken thirst trap, it's obvious Wonho has mastered the balance required to maintain one of the most jacked physiques in music and the gruelling reality of promoting as an idol. Here he explains what it takes to be the adonis of K-pop.

Workouts

"Monday morning I will work out my chest and then after I'll do my back and shoulders. Then the next day it will be my arms and my lower body, and then I'll repeat myself. So I spend four hours working out in total per day. I'll divide it up into the morning and the night, and then as well as that I'll also do a one-hour cardio workout. There are two types of ab workouts that I do after the main workout. I'll use the machine called hanging raise, and then I'll also work out with the cable, and I'll do 10 sets every single day. Seven days, every week.

So my favourite workout would be exercising my back because I often feel that I've worked out really hard and have that fulfilling feeling, I guess. I hate working out my chest because it's hard to get the posture right and I have back pain so, it's kind of hard to do it. I start off my set with free weights without using the machine, and I'll use the equipment in every gym that I would like to try out. There's a lat pulldown machine from the Italian brand Panatta that I really like.

For most Korean artists, when we start our album promotion [schedules] are packed and really tight, so many artists will sleep for, like, one or two hours and then get up and do another schedule. Whenever I don't get enough sleep, in the morning I often feel like giving up that day. But I'll never skip my workouts, especially because my face will bloat. So if I don't do it before the schedule, I'll do it during.

During the pandemic, it was really hard for me to work out in the gym. In Korea, many of the gyms were closed, but I had my own gym and supplements in my house. So I would use those to work out, but I also went outside a lot instead. Even if I couldn't focus on weights, I kept on working with my dancing and being mobile. [To dance] I do a lot of stretching and I use a foam roller constantly which helps a lot with balance. I think because I practice a lot of dancing, regardless of my muscles, [that fluidity] just naturally comes."

Diet

"I start my morning by training, and after working out I'll drink an oatmeal juice. For my first meal, I eat chicken with carrots, broccoli, kale and rice, and for my second I eat beef rump with rice. Then, in between my dinner and the second meal, I'll have another oatmeal juice. For dinner, I'll have white fish, again with rice, carrots, broccoli and kale, and I'll finish it off with egg whites. Sometimes I'll also eat pineapple for digestion.

It's probably a special case for me, and I don't think it will apply to many other people, but I often think of my fans or of being in front of a camera, and so naturally, it makes me handle my appetite and drive me further. It's like a motivation for me."

Vices

“My favourite food is ramen, but ramen is often recognised as an instant food and something that's not good for your health. But I can never resist it, so whenever I finish shooting a music video, or after my album promotion, I'll eat it. But since I have a photoshoot coming up, I won't have it yet.”

Skincare and beauty

"I don't use any specific skincare. I don't really know how to care for my skin, to be honest, so I will just use things that I see in front of me. For example, when I go to the gym they will have skincare that people can use, so I'll just use that.

I do love using perfume, though. My favourite is, and sorry to use a swear word, called Fucking Fabulous Eau de Parfum by Tom Ford."

Source: gq-magazine.co.uk

[pandemichub]

I'd love people to write in in response to this post. I'll share my own story to get things started.

Before the pandemic started I had just started to get on the right track after an apartment fire 3 years ago at the time. Everything was thrown off by that and I developed PTSD from the event. My health and mental health conditions were well managed, including my agoraphobia and I was in good health.

Even as I sheltered in place for approximately 3 years and only did essential activities and went to essential places I still contracted covid. Sadly my carer brought it into my home and I've suffered with long covid immediately subsequent to my acute infection ever since (August 28th 2022).

It's turned my life upside down. I had planned on starting to ride my bike and now it sits in my apartment untouched. I struggle to walk, sit and balance especially for prolonged periods, at the ripe age of 31. An issue I didn't have before remotely.

And yet doctors keep mentioning anxiety, that it's not conclusive despite not studying up to date literature and published research on covid and long covid. I have no purpose for my shoes much either because travel is taxing on my body. In fact I've been at my mom's house for almost a month because I'm not well enough to return home.

Even paid my rent and electric digitally. My patio remains unoccupied, partly because I don't want harassment about wearing a mask outdoors but also would rather not see my neighbors. One of which harassed me and my carer after coming back from a very stressful dentist appointment with appalling covid safety and not having slept that day.

My computer collecting dust, partly due to the winter storm a couple months or so ago that knocked out my power and messed up the boot sequence, but also not being able to sit at and use it without swaying, heart palpations, feeling faint, and for long periods.

My kitchen sink, cooking utensils and ware goes unused most of the time because my new illness has largely robbed me of the energy and focus to prepare and cook meals. And my apartment tends to occupy me or my one support staff because of my fear of a repeat incident of someone bringing disease into my house. A disease that if I catch again well may kill me, or, faster.

My shower usually is dry as a bone, baths and showers leave me flaring and wiped for days. My hair products sit frequently untouched as I'm too exhausted to brush, braid, cover and moisturize my hair. As do my free weights and elastic PT bands. Ever since I got sick I lack stamina, experience shortness of breath (I had asthma but it was well controlled), my heart rate spikes and I can't exercise in any way that would hit targets or be beneficial.

And still my doctor recommends physical therapy despite telling her all this. And worst of all won't give me a long covid diagnosis. She kicked me to specialist.

Specialist who are already booked out, and whose schedules and patient lists keep lengthening because of the sharp and continued rise in long covid. Knowing it could take months for me to get a diagnosis this route and even longer to get new disability aids I need if I even get documents and approvals at all.

That I can't possibly afford because I'm dirt poor. To add pain to injury, I was disabled before this. And I understood the seriousness of covid and long covid. And took every precaution. But in a society that's a threat to life and safety, I was only as safe as everyone else was and is.

Which means I wasn't and still am not. Not only do I have whatever implications and damage short and long term from my first bout of illness, I constantly have the threat of reinfections and death everyday.

And finally, I have no use for many of the chairs in my home as my brain, neck and spine struggle to keep me upright. My body is in some ways new to me and after 3 plus decades in it, I have to learn it all over again.

And am confronted with no longer being able to do what I once did (possibly ever again) with great sadness nor test limits without high risk and unpredictable results. And it is a terrible, deeply off putting, arrogant and cruel insult to hear people write off or outright deny long covid exists and call long covid a cold. It fucking isn't.

Anyway that's my story.

[moss-bride]

You make me want to believe in love. Chapt 11 sneak peek (my phone was stolen so forgive the tardiness)

With the king's blessing Lords black and white increase their meetings, dragging her along to show off, being in their company is a balancing act that refreshes her more of theater class. 

She fetches wine and cigars for the two. More servant than spy, it's an upgrade that she doesn't dare complain about. Last thing she needs is to be sent on another brain melting mission.

After having her be an errand boy they put her in a brightly colored corral. Anguish shoves her in and they shut the gate. She's confused at the enclosed space with plush walls.

 There was a ball and toys. Once the realization set in it was humiliating, she was in a playpen with a lower form of life that belongs to White. (It was an armadillo creature. Larger than ordinary. When she glanced its way it nervously curled up into a ball.) Leaving her to do nothing except sit and stare into space until it's time to leave. Rinse, repeat.

Days drag on. It feels like months and it honestly could be for all she knew. She asked the Black lord how long she's been here and he had shrugged, saying it made no difference and that ‘if it's an important day I would tell you’

Lost track of time, slowly her dormant senses deteriorate.

With a sinking depression she realizes the foundation is not coming for her. She has sent countless food messages through the cabinets including a creative ‘S.O.S’ made with broccoli and cheese. No response in turn.

She had been lying to herself thinking there was a chance in the first place. Her employers and the board of directors aren't known for spending precious funding in sending troops to rescue unimportant researchers . Yet foolishly she believed herself an exception despite all evidence pointing otherwise.

She needs to continue to look after herself first. Lord knows no one else will.

Tonight the air is less heady. She was allowed to stay at his palace and yet after training with Sforza she succumbs to a nigh constant emotion.  Boredom. Her body is light with exertion but her mind is somewhere else as she helps Giorgia sweep nonexistent dust on the floor. Trailing behind the maid to help with whatever she has on her schedule to do.

Last night, Yellow stopped by and the whole palace rumbled with explosive shouting coming from the east wing before the two emerged enraged. Capes fluttering, Whatever the talk was about, it went neither of their ways.

She would rub it in Black’s face if He hadn't ordered poor Giorgia to clean the mess. Torn curtains and pages. Might as well been a rage room

They pick glass off the floor and pluck wood from the wall. Several chairs were shattered and the paintings were sprayed with a foul smelling mustard substance. She dips a finger into the sticky substance and kisses as it burns,  wiping it on the curtain. 

“There isn't any reason to treat you like trash, tell you to drop everything and immediately help him. I'd be pissed if I were you!” if only they had a workers union here. She could speak at a podium and demand pay for overtime or mandatory breaks.

The ever so calm Giorgia doesn't talk shit about her boss. Any dreams of ceasing the means of production would have to wait until the glass on the floor is cleaned. But she does it enough for both of them. “Next thing we know he's going to tell you to fold his dresses, prepare a carriage, and fix him a meal simultaneously. Seriously, how do you stand it.”

Giorgia takes a great breath. Annoyed with her constant battering of Lord Anguish’s character. 

“Before this happened. I had a wife. “ She keeps her head done and focused on the task at hand. “He helped her cross the bridge out of alagadda. Escape mere hours when the land was claimed for the Ambassador and the crows were made to laugh.”

There is more emotion now then she's ever heard from the maid. She's respectfully quiet as Giorgia finishes her tale. “ Likely dead and dust now. I remain in his service eternally.”

“That was kind of him.” she sarcastically replies

The maid turns to her and breaks from the stoic emotive to hiss. “He didn't have to aid a peasant woman under his service but he did. If he did on a whim or for laughs matters not. the outcome is the same.”

She doesn't say anything to Giorgia for hours after that. Biting back an apology that she wouldn't mean if it left her mouth. She can't view the mask on kind terms with the point of view of an unwilling captive.

[acornered]

2024 WISHLIST

I know Resolutions are a controversial concept but I still want to spend some time reflecting on what my goals this year were, if I accomplished them to my satisfaction, and what I'd like the next year of my life to look like. So here we go:

Purchase second-hand and locally owned as much as possible How Well I Did: Very well! I've become friends with a lot of local vintage store owners, artists, and tradespeople, and I've been able to reduce the amount of frivolous consumption I engage in significantly. Repeat in 2024: Absolutely!!!

Continue to work on my relationship with my body How Well I Did: Uh. Ooof. Um. My body changed a lot this year and it's been really hard for me to make peace with that. Regular healthy meals and consistent exercise are both difficult habits for me because of the mental illnesses, and falling off of that particular wagon, combined with finally coming to terms with my ED, has made for a rocky road to body positivity. Repeat in 2024: I need to redouble my efforts here, and actually commit to forming healthy habits around food, and making time to do a little physical activity each day. And every time I look in the mirror, I will try to challenge the negative thoughts until I can hopefully accept the inherent worth and beauty of my flesh.

Continue to work on my mental health How Well I Did: Average, I think. There were bouts of depression, and periods of inconsistency with my medication, but I am getting better every day and I have built myself a really stellar support system to pick up the slack when I need it! Repeat in 2024: Always, every year, forever. I can't imagine going back.

Nurture and honor my relationships with others, and my own wellbeing in those relationships How Well I Did: Pretty well, with only 2 notable exceptions. To the people who have helped me grow, who have loved me enough to tell me when I am wrong, who have been patient with me when I've had to assert a boundary with them-- thank you. I may not always choose well, but when I do I end up with the most beautiful, loving relationships I could ask for. Repeat in 2024: There are two specific things that I need to face down next year (one pleasant but terrifying, and one awful but necessary), and I only hope that I can do so with strength and grace and that the pain will be worth the healing it brings.

Have positive romantic and sexual experiences How Well I Did: I had moderate success with this one. While I made a real effort to put myself out there, there were moments of true despair, especially after a couple of opportunities broke down from poor communication/bad timing. However, I did manage to figure out some important boundaries, and enforce them to varying degrees of success. I'm entering 2024 still single, which is not ideal, but with a much better sense of what I'm looking for and how to ask for it. Repeat in 2024: I'm still not great at making the first move, but I am mentally projecting shoot your shot vibes to every cute girl I know, and maybe this year I'll even get an opportunity to be courageous.

Read at least 1 book every month How Well I Did: I managed around 8/12, and didn't keep track of when I read what. But I am consuming books again which is in turn helping me rediscover my love of reading and writing. I think with more of a concentrated push, I can make this happen for real! Repeat in 2024: Yep, with better documentation this time!

Conclusion: 2023 was a mixed bag, and it really ended on a low note with multiple waves of interpersonal conflict, a bad bout of depression, and an unexpected death of someone I've known since childhood. I want to start the New Year with a clean slate, but it's difficult with so many things unresolved, and a funeral service to attend in the very first week of 2024. I am determined to start slow, and find that balance between necessary rest and gratuitous wallowing. I am grateful every day that my desire to move forward, to shape the life I want for myself, overpowers my desire to lay down and never move again. At least most of the time. I promise to continue to find beauty in quiet, unlikely places, to give the kind of love I wish to receive, and make my corner of the world the kind of soft place I'd be happy to inhabit. If you've read this far, I love you and I hope you stick around. Happy New Year (almost).

[edupunkn00b]

French Kiss: Tale of the Revolution, Ch. 9: Stay

Prev - Stay - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

16 June 1789

Janus could hardly believe his eyes. He didn’t know what else Remus had said to the head chef, but not only had she allowed him to steal Prince Roman’s tea and replace it with a much simpler meal, but she'd piled the misappropriated tray high with sweets and confections fresh from the ovens. Before they left, Remus scrawled something on a scrap of parchment and secured it under a saucer, winking at the servant preparing to take it up to the younger prince.

“He’ll know it really was me,” he said vaguely and the head chef poorly hid rolling her eyes and returned to her duties, an actual smile peeking out from the corners of her stern mouth.

Bearing the tray proudly in front of him, Remus strode down a new corridor where the doors were placed closer together than in the rest of the palace. The prince seemed to know where he was going, so Janus followed, eyes scanning from side to side as he wondered where they were headed—and whether he’d ever be able to find his way back unassisted.

His concern must have been obvious because Remus moved a little closer as they walked. “My brother and I used to sneak off and explore the palace when we were young. We would run away from whichever tutor or nanny was in charge of us and just start chasing each other down the halls. Well….” the prince grinned, “We hid from everyone except our music tutor, at least.” He shrugged, a fuzzy smile turning up his lips, bright eyes dancing around the corridor between the doors. “We got to know these hallways well.”

“That is reassuring,” Janus said smoothly. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to share where we are headed?”

Remus pressed his lips together in a crooked smile, eyebrows raised. Instead of speaking, he extended his elbow and looked pointedly at it. After Janus hooked his hand over his forearm, Remus nodded and tucked the offered hand close to his side and continued walking. Janus chuckled, shaking his head. “I see you don’t want me to ruin the surprise.” He turned and lightly kissed Remus’ cheek, darkening his rouge. “Carry on, then.”

They walked to the end of the corridor and down a small set of stone stairs until they finally reached a heavy wooden door, a little larger than the others they’d passed. Remus balanced the heavy tray on one hand, then knocked three times and, after a bit of shuffling from inside the room, the door slowly creaked open.

The prince grinned and gave a little bow. An old man leaned on the door, smiling up at Remus with a shake of his head. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Remus?” Janus’ eyes widened at the familiar tone he took with the prince and looked quickly at him for his reaction.

His smile widened and he presented the tray. “Merely delivering a little something for you, Maître.” 

“Maître,” Janus repeated quietly, confusion pinching his face, but he followed Remus when the man gestured toward a small table near the only window in the tiny stone-walled room. The walls were bare, without the tapestries common in other parts of the castle. A small wood stove stood in one corner, a few feet from a narrow bed, neatly made. A small shelf next to the bed was lined with worn-looking books. At the other end of the room, though, was a polished mahogany piano, leaves of sheet music scattered about, a tiny bottle of ink and a worn quill on the top.

“Have you been practicing your scales, Remus?” the old man asked. Maître. It finally clicked. This must be Remus’—and Roman’s—music instructor. In the thin light pouring from the window, Janus could now clearly see the tremor in the old man’s hands, the ink stains on his thumb and forefinger.

“Yes, Maître.” Remus replied with a dutiful nod of his head. Janus had never seen him so quiet… so deferential. 

“Well…” he waved his hand at the piano as he slowly lowered himself into a chair. “Show me, then.” He struggled to lift the cloche from the tray and Janus rushed to his side.

“Allow me, Sir,” he said automatically. 

Remus’ eyes flicked over to his, a small, grateful smile curling up his lips before he bowed his head again at his old music teacher. “I thought you’d never ask, Maître.” 

~~~

Remus played until the sun had dipped below the window sill and the room grew dark enough for candles. “Thank you for having us, Maître.” He bowed his head and Janus quickly followed suit. “Oh,” he gestured to the tray still laden with pastries and fruit. “Chef knows where I was headed with this,” Remus grinned as they left. “You’re likely to get some hungry visitors at the shift change.”

Maître smiled, his eyes wistful. “I would like that.”

Remus took Janus’ hand and laced their fingers together. “I thought you might, Maître. Enjoy your evening.”

“And you, as well, Remus,” Maître murmured, his smile growing as he looked down at their interwoven hands.

The door closed behind them and they began the long walk back toward the music room. Or, at least Janus had expected it to be a long walk. Instead, his eyes widened when, with a wink, Remus pushed on the wall a few feet from the entrance to the kitchen and a narrow section of the wall popped open like a door. The prince raised one finger to his lips then stepped inside and beckoned Janus to follow.

He sealed the door behind them and they were enveloped in darkness. Janus’ hand tightened reflexively in Remus’ and he struggled to steady his breath. Remus squeezed his hand back and slowly raised his hand close to his lips. “You are safe, mon douceur,” He kissed Janus’ hand then placed it on his own waist. “For just one moment. I’ll need both hands to light a candle.”

In the dark, Janus’ grip gradually tightened until he clung to a fistful of Remus’ coat. He felt the velvet shift, then the sharp sound of a flint box and the bright golden light of a candle filled the space. Remus held the candle out and above their heads, illuminating the space but keeping the threat of dripping wax far from them.

Embarrassed by the strength of his grip on Remus’ coat, Janus let out a small laugh. “Do you always carry around a candle and flintbox?”

“Of course I do, mon douceur,” he murmured with a little smile. He tilted up Janus’ chin and pressed a slow kiss against his lips. “It’s very helpful for skulking around secret passages.” He smiled and offered his arm, holding the candle up high in front of them. “Would you join me and find out where this one leads?”

Lips still tingling from their last kiss, Janus chuckled and he rested his hand in the crook of Remus’ elbow. “My intuition tells me you know precisely where this passage leads, Your Royal Highness.”

“Your intuition is wise,” Remus murmured, bending his head to press one more kiss against Janus’ lips. “Will you join me?” he whispered, his eyes impossibly large and sparkling in the candlelight.

Janus’ breath caught in his throat. “Lead the way, my prince.”

They’d walked in silence for a few yards when Remus tucked Janus’ hand closer to his side and murmured near his ear, his tone low and serious. “I haven’t forgotten what you told me. About Paris.” 

Janus looked up at him in surprise. When Remus had bent near, he’d half-expected, perhaps even anticipated a flirty little kiss. He stopped mid-stride and met the prince’s gaze. Remus stared back, eyes glistening in the candlelight. “Good,” Janus said, buying a bit of time to work out what else to say. His throat went dry when he realized he’d forgotten why he was even there, Logan’s warning tearing through his mind.

“The people are depending on you,” Janus said to the prince. And to himself.

Remus nodded slowly. “I know. I have a formal meeting with my father tomorrow. He has to know the truth of what's happening in Paris. I know—“ he began when Janus looked ready to remind him of the king’s tour only a few decades ago. He pulled Janus’ hand close to his own heart as he spoke. “If he knows the situation has only worsened, I am confident I can convince him. He has a heart.”

Janus smiled up at the prince, his optimism and his hope contagious. Perhaps this really was the path, perhaps this was how they would change Paris, change France. One heart at a time, starting with his. He nodded slowly. “If anyone can change his mind, I believe it’s you,” he whispered, warmth spreading through his chest and up to his cheeks at the smile that burst onto Remus’ face.

He brought Janus’ hand to his lips and gently kissed it. “With your faith, mon douceur, I could do anything.” Remus stared into his eyes for a long time before finally returning his hand to its place in the crook of his own elbow and gestured further down the dark stone corridor. “We’re nearly there,” he murmured, and led Janus down a few more feet.

When they stopped walking, he handed him the candle, then pressed a stone on the wall that, to Janus, at least, didn’t appear different from any other. Light spilled out from the long vertical crack that opened before them. Remus pushed it and they slipped through together and into the music room.

“That… that took us five minutes,” he stammered, thinking about the long, winding path they’d taken to get to the kitchen and then to the Maître’s room.

“I know,” Remus grinned, dancing his shoulders back and forth as he blew out the candle “It was fun, too, wasn’t it?”

~~~

Almost an hour later, Remus rang for Alienòr and asked her to send for Janus’ carriage. When she left, he smiled and offered his arm to Janus with a little bow. “May I escort you to your horses, mon douceur?”

Makeup freshened, Janus’ face powder hid his needless blush and he bowed his head. “Are you certain you do not wish I simply roamed the castle? See what other secrets I may find?” he said, lips twitching in a smile.

“No need to roam, mon douceur .” Remus stepped closer, one hand slipping around his waist and drawing him close. Janus had to tilt his chin up to keep the prince’s gaze. “I think you’ve discovered the key to all my secrets.”

“I have?” He could barely manage a whisper, his throat gone dry, lost in Remus’ eyes.

Humming quietly, Remus bent his head down and pressed a featherlight kiss on Janus’ lips. “You have,” he murmured, then stepped back and offered his arm again. “Shall we?” He held open the door, smiling with another of his little shoulder dances when Janus placed a hand on his arm.

They walked slowly toward the grand entrance, the prince uncharacteristically quiet, but he kept his little hopping step and peeked at Janus every few seconds, watching him more than he did the hall ahead of them. Suddenly, Remus turned and glanced down either side of the corridor. He grinned, then cradled the back of Janus' head before pressing him against the wall and kissing him. Janus melted against him before he regained his sensibility and broke away, breathless.

“Someone will see,” Janus whispered, cheeks pink beneath his powder.

“Let them see,” Remus whispered back, but he waited, gaze bouncing between his eyes and his lips as he turned Janus' hand. He stroked his palm and bowed his head to press another small kiss into the center. “Let them see who I love.”

“You…” Janus blinked up at Remus, grateful for the wall at his back keeping him upright. Remus grinned and took advantage of his momentary speechlessness to steal another slow kiss, one hand still cradling the back of his head, while the other slid down to the small of Janus’ back, holding him close. When he broke away, both of them were left breathless and they stared at each other in silence.

Finally Janus regained his voice. “You love me?”

“You needn’t say it back,” Remus quickly murmured, eyes a swirl of softness and heat. He bent down, forehead resting against Janus’ as he brushed his thumb over Janus’ lips. He smiled at the touch of rouge left behind. “I know it is sudden. Even I am tempted to dismiss it as simple infatuation.” He met Janus’ eyes, his face serious. “And there is still a great deal we don’t know about each other.” 

Remus touched his left cheek and Janus wondered how much of his scar showed through his smudged face powder. “But everything I’ve learned about you, mon douceur … Everything…  has only left me craving more.”

He leaned in and kissed Janus again, softer this time, and slower, carefully tasting his lips and his mouth. He pulled back just enough to speak. “Will you give me the honor of getting to know you more? And of sharing with you more of myself?”

“That is an irresistible offer,” Janus whispered against his lips, then smiled. “Not that I’d ever want to try to say no.” He nodded slowly, before lightly kissing the smile spreading across Remus’s face. “Yes, Prince Remus. I would like that very much.”

Remus’ joyous laughter sent sparks through Janus’ heart. “Will you come see me again…  soon? And… and when you do… if you do… Will you stay with me for a few days?”

Janus’ breath stuttered and his shock must have been clear because Remus stepped back and added, “You’ll have your own room, a wardrobe of anything you like, privacy, anything… I am not asking you as a consort.” He met Janus’ eyes, his face serious. “There will be nothing required of you. I…”

A mixture of relief and… disappointment washed over him and Janus decided to interrogate his complicated feelings later. “I will come. I… will need to make some arrangements…”

“Of course, of course! And you needn’t worry about packing up your household for a few days, I…” Remus traced the line from Janus’ temple to his jaw. “I will provide you everything you need, I can send a carriage—”

“Thank you, but no.” Janus smiled, mind racing as he fought competing impulses to run from this game where he’d already gone too deep. And the impulse to run right into the prince’s open arms. “I simply have some business to attend to.”

Remus held his hand, gently stroking his fingers over the back of it. Eyes locked on Janus’, he bowed his head and gently kissed the bare skin on his inner wrist between his glove and his sleeve. “So you will come? Is a week enough time for your preparations?”

“I will be here, Remus,” Janus promised, his lips moving independent of his mind. ”In a week.”

~~~

That morning, when Logan had arrived at the palace stables with his carriage, a small group of ostlers were preparing to leave for de Choisy, the tiny hamlet that served as a market for the staff and long term guests at Versailles. “Could you use another set of hands?” he called to them. “I have little to do once my horses are watered.”

The driver eyed him warily, brow relaxing marginally when he took in Logan’s mended shoes and the worn patches in his breeches. Logan grinned. “I promise, I’m stronger than I look.” He reached to shake the driver’s hand. “My name is Logan.”

“Jérôme,” he nodded and waved him toward the large, open wagon. He smiled when Logan easily scrambled aboard. “We’ll test that promise,” he laughed good naturedly. “We have a lot to load.” 

In the town, Logan worked side-by-side with the ostlers as they loaded the wagon with sacks of flour and millet, and baskets and baskets of apples, wax-covered cheeses and preserved jambon sec. When they were done, the driver clapped him on the back. “You were good to your word, camarade. We finished early, thanks to you.” He gestured toward a pub a few storefronts down. “Come, join us for a small drink before we head back. Their beer’s terrible but it’s cheap.”

At the pub, Logan listened as the patrons gossiped—mostly inconsequentially—about the palace. It wasn’t until their drinks were nearly finished that someone mentioned the carriages arriving for the Estates General.

“They’ve had to open up the Trianon to make room for them all,” the tallest of them, Gérard, murmured. “That’s what the coince little steward claimed, at least.” He swirled the dregs of beer in his tankard and swore. “I think the prissy royals just don’t want to rub elbows with the rest of them.”

“Ha! Serves them right,” Jérôme laughed. “Let the bishops see what it’s like to be the racailles for once.”

Logan leaned forward to be heard but spoke casually into his beer. “You don’t think they’re concerned about security?”

“They should be,” a low voice replied from the next table. The man was older than most in the pub, and wore a bright red cravat around his neck. The rest of his clothes were fashionably muted, shoes polished and he had traces of white powder around his hairline, as though he’d recently removed a court wig. “Thankfully, cooler heads have prevailed so far, but I don’t know how much longer that’s going to last.”

“Would you care to join us, Monsieur—”

“Colére,” he said with a curt bow of his head. “No, I am due to greet more members of the Third Estate arriving today.” He left three shiny silver coins on the table and bowed his head. “Good day to you. And… keep your eyes open. If things go the way I fear, anyone at the palace could be a target. If you don’t take up arms against the King when the mobs arrive… get out.”

During the two mile ride back to Versailles, Logan turned the man’s words over in his head. The red cravat was a clear signal to the rest of the movement, but he spoke like a pacifist and their ranks were shrinking fast. His name was familiar and with a jolt, he remembered the day he’d met Patton, and the table of students from the Sorbonne. Colére. He must be Lucas’ father. Logan looked out toward the sun slowly dipping down to the horizon, suddenly anxious to return to Paris to see what may be fomenting in the café. And the streets.

He looked up when the wagon suddenly jerked to a stop. “Back with us!” Jérôme cheered. “We’ve arrived. Come, many hands make light the work and other mierde”

Logan nodded with a wry smile, hefted a sack onto his shoulders and followed the line of ostlers toward the back entrance to the kitchen.

With the help of a few kitchen staff, it took even less time to unload the wagon at Versailles. Logan had been pleased when Patton had joined the group, literally bouncing with energy as he ran up to the wagon. “Logan!” he called out to him as he picked up a crate. “Logan, can I help?”

“Your help would be much appreciated, Patton. We’re bringing all of this in.” He chuckled when the cheerful young man hefted with two giant sacks of millet on each shoulder. The burly ostlers watched his pace barely slow under the weight. They added more to each of their own loads, red faced and grunting as they lumbered down to the pantries.

When they were done, Logan pulled Patton aside, claiming he needed his assistance with the carriage. “I see you have managed to find a place with the staff.” He spoke quietly and pointed to a loose bolt on one of the carriage steps. “Well done.”

Patton’s cheeks turned pink and he grinned brightly, nodding and using a small tool Logan provided from the driver’s perch. “Thank you, Logan.”

“Are you able to return to Paris with the same driver you came in with? Or should we pick you up?” He met Patton’s eyes when he nearly dropped the spanner and jerked his head up. “We have much to discuss.”

“He’s heading out tomorrow at dawn. I’ll be back in Paris before noon.” He grinned up at Logan and stood. “See you at de Foy?”

Logan gave his shoulder a little squeeze. “Excellent. We’ll see you then.”

A few hours later, a pinch-faced courtier appeared in the stables, lip curled up and stepping carefully along the edges of the path between the horse pens. “Your employer is readying to leave,” he said without greeting, then turned and left without another word. 

Shaking his head, Logan waved to Jérôme, who laughed, “His Lordship awaits?”

He chuckled as he led the horses out of their pen and hitched them to the carriage. “In truth, he is a decent man. I suppose I got lucky.” Logan reached out to shake his hand. “If you’re ever in Paris, come find me at Café de Foy.” And with one more nod, he climbed onto his perch and led the horses down the widening path back to the gate to wait for Janus.

~~~

“Thank you, Logan,” Janus murmured to him as he helped him up into the carriage. He looked over his shoulder, but instead of watching Logan as he spoke, his golden eyes lingered on the palace, scanning the large windows at the center. He suddenly smiled and when Logan followed his gaze, he spotted movement in one tall window, as though someone was waving the curtains back and forth like a flag. He glanced back at the pleased smile gracing Janus’ lips. Or perhaps like a signal.

Logan cleared his throat. “I still have your more comfortable riding clothes, and I fetched some water and…” He gestured toward a tiny wooden crate with various cloths and a solution of herbs a milkmaid told him would remove rouge. Solène had then surprised him with the bottle before he’d left to meet Janus at the gate. “And the box for your wig is still there… ” Logan smiled at Janus before quickly looking away. ”If you wish to change.”

“Is my court makeup not pleasing?” Janus asked lightly as he examined what Logan brought.

His throat went dry. “N—no… I—I mean, it’s perfectly pleasing.” Logan took a deep breath and pressed a smile onto his face just before Janus looked up at him. “I merely intended… They are supplies in case you are more comfortable without it.”

“Lo, I am only teasing.”  Janus reached over the window sash and squeezed Logan’s hand. “This is incredibly thoughtful. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Logan whispered, his eyes drawn to where Janus lightly gripped his hand. “It was my pleasure. Why don’t you relax and I’ll stop once we’re past the last checkpoint and we can ride together.”

“I’d like that, Lo, thank you.” Janus smiled at Logan and relaxed against the seat. His eyes still darted back to the palace and Logan thought he spied a touch of longing in his gaze. He nodded again, and climbed onto the driving perch and led the horses down the road back to Paris.

They made it through the checkpoint without incident. The guards were beginning to recognize him and waved them on without even looking inside the compartment. Once they were out of eye and earshot, Logan stopped the carriage and knocked. 

Janus opened the door, fresh face glowing in the soft, early dusk. He was still lacing up his tunic as he stepped out of the carriage, a broad swath of his chest exposed, revealing the cut of his muscles. Logan averted his gaze, attention seemingly focused on a joint near the wheelhouse. He looked up when Janus let out a low sigh.

“I feel back to myself now. Thank you again, Lo,” he said before settling on the driver’s bench. He looked over his shoulder at Logan. “How are you feeling? Would you like me to drive for a while and you can nap in the passenger compartment?”

“No! No, that is quite alright. It’s lovely evening. It would be pleasant to share the fresh air with a friend.” Janus’ responding smile strengthened his own and by the time he’d joined him on the bench, his wide smile was genuine.

Janus described his visit with the prince, stammering and blushing at some points, leaving Logan with the impression that he was hearing a slightly edited version of their time together. Janus became more effusive when he talked about visiting the kitchen and the switched trays. “Oh, and I nearly forgot. Patton was there. How did—”

“I asked him… to see if he could stay close while you were in the palace.” Logan kept his eyes on the road. “Last night, he charmed his way onto a carriage headed to the Estates General assembly. Promised to help with the horses when they stopped. He’s staying in the servants’ hall overnight and heading back to Paris with them tomorrow morning.” 

Janus was quiet for a while and Logan finally turned to him. “They’re a friend of a friend. I trust they’ll keep him safe. And he knows his way around the palace—”

“Oh, yes… Yes, I could see that. And I know he’s tougher than he looks. And… wilier.” Logan chuckled, Janus’ observation bringing to mind their young friend’s minor theft of a bottle of wine from the palace. “I am confident he’ll be more than fine.” He licked his lips, mouth working without any words coming out.

“Janus, are you all right?” Logan rested his hand on his forearm. He’d never seen the great Janus Robespierre need to search for words.

Nodding quickly, Janus smiled at Logan. “Yes! Yes, I am.” His eyes were bright and a small, tentative smile twitched the corners of his mouth. Finally Janus shook his head and said in an uncharacteristically jumbled rush. “The prince asked me to stay with him… near him, I—I think. It seemed to be up to me, but… I mean… A—at the palace. He asked me to stay with him for a few days. At the palace.”

“Oh,” Logan’s voice faltered and he took a slow breath before he attempted to say more. He slowed the horses and turned to face him. “Do you believe his intentions are to make your relationship… physically intimate?”

A soft pink the same color as the sunset bloomed over Janus’ cheeks, neck, and chest. “Yes,” he whispered. “I do.”

“Did he say or do anything that made you feel this was a command and not a choice?”

“No! No, of course not!” Janus shook his head, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “Remus isn’t like that. Not with me… and as far as I can tell, not with anyone in that palace.”

Logan was quiet for a long while. During the past two visits he’d spent with the workers in the stables, Logan had made a few whispered inquiries along those lines. Everyone he spoke to confirmed that, while he was blasted royal, he’d never been known to be abusive to any of the staff. 

That information brought him some comfort. “I cannot counsel you on what your personal boundaries should be.” Logan swallowed hard, iron bands wrapping around his chest and his heart. “But we cannot deny that spending additional time with the prince, with the future King of France, is a remarkable opportunity. Both to learn more about the workings of the castle and to, perhaps even influence his thinking. Perhaps we truly can find our way out of this morass without further bloodshed.”

Logan took another deep breath, his voice low. “What will you say?”

“I already said yes,” Janus whispered.

“Oh.” Logan’s fingers tightened on the reins and the horses whinnied quietly. He relaxed his fingers and turned to his friend.

“Remus’ company is not… objectionable," Janus began slowly. "He’s charming and funny and…  attractive.” He cleared his throat and avoided Logan’s gaze. The soft bare skin at the curve of his neck and his jaw flushed brightly in the fading light. “Under other circumstances…” his voice trailed away and he didn’t need to finish his sentence. Under other circumstances, Janus sounded as though he would have been pleased to be courted by the man. “I told him I would stay.” 

“That is… most excellent news,” Logan said, eyes on the road. The last sliver of the sun had slipped under the horizon and they were cast in a growing darkness, but the pavers were near iridescent under the starlight. He delayed lighting the lantern, and instead hid his tears in the gloom that hung between them.