#for any mise en place heads out there

[capricornlevi]

being a little #real for a second it does bum me out that I'm so slow with updating mise en place ... i get the most nicest most encouraging comments and i am so eternally grateful for them ... i just think the longer a story gets the more effort i try to put into making it cohesive etc but that just leads to me agonising over tiny paragraphs ...

[paperultra]

the liminal space.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 1,575 words Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol use [A/N: written with the cooper!reader from mise en rose in mind. i don't know where in the timeline this occurs, though. lol.]

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms

Living in close quarters can really change how you see a person.

Roronoa Zoro, for instance, had always struck you as rather aloof, having traveled alone for some time before you joined him, and unused to physical affection. He never gave any indication that he was one to enjoy it, and he never sought it out from anyone. That certainly wasn’t odd. You respected his tendency towards personal space, subsequently believing that it extended to his sleeping habits as well.

So when you wake up, hardly able to breathe underneath the hulking mass of a snoring swordsman, you are more surprised than anything.

“Zoro,” you wheeze, patting his back with the hand that isn’t crushed between his chest and yours. Nothing happens, so you swat harder. “Zoro. You’re crushing me.”

His arms squeeze around you as he stirs, inhaling sharply next to your ear. You stop moving as he lifts his head and opens his eyes just wide enough to register you beneath him.

He pauses.

Good morning, sunshine is what you want to say in a cheeky tone. You want to prove that you’re unaffected by the warmth of his body pressing yours into the mattress, the sensation of his breath across your cheekbone and the way his gaze transitions from something bleary into something sharp.

The greeting refuses to leave your mouth. All you can do is blink.

The next thing you know, Zoro’s rolling off of you and out of bed with nary an apology, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.

You hum distantly in response and stare up at the ceiling as he shuffles to the door. Once he closes it behind him, you reach up and fold your hands over your eyes, cheeks hot.

Great.

—

It all started because you and Zoro could only afford a single bed at the inn.

(You use the term “afford” loosely here. The truth of the matter is that you grossly underestimated how much a room would cost, and the owner of the one place willing to lend you a room for half the usual rate demanded physical labor to make up for the rest. Given that Zoro would be spending most of his time hunting down a bounty, the majority of the unpaid labor fell on your shoulders.)

(But you digress.)

The room is small and bare, which is fine, because you and Zoro don’t have much between the two of you anyway. The only problem is that there is only one bed. Zoro had expressed no qualms about sharing so long as you didn’t disturb his sleep, and you had readily agreed, not wanting either of you to sleep on the floor.

After the first morning, you’re not sure if that was a lapse of judgement on your part or not.

Zoro doesn’t mention it at all before he leaves for the day, and you don’t, either. However, when he comes back in the middle of the night and you’re already in bed, squinting and shielding yourself from the bright hallway light as he takes his slippers off and walks in, he sits on the carpet just a few feet away from your side.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he proceeds to lay down.

“Sleeping.”

He closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head. You frown.

“Why aren’t you sleeping up here?” No answer. You lift your head from your pillow, indignant. “Hey, don’t ignore me! I know you’re still awake.”

“I’ve had a long day,” he grumbles, “so I’d like some quiet so I can sleep. Thanks.”

You huff.

The thought that Zoro might actually be just as embarrassed flits briefly through your mind, but you extinguish it just as quickly. He’s never seemed like the kind of guy to be self-conscious about those kinds of things. A more likely reason is that he’s decided that he wants his own separate space after all and can’t be bothered to kick you off the bed.

So, you kick yourself off instead.

“What are you doing?” The phrase now comes from Zoro as you throw the covers off and grab your pillow, kneeling on the ground beside him. His eyes open and his brow furrows.

“Take the bed. I feel guilty.”

“I don’t want the bed.”

“Everybody wants the bed.” You lie down on the carpet and cross your arms over your chest, stubborn. “I’ve already slept in it. Now it’s your turn.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zoro says.

Neither of you budge.

The next morning, you decide that the first morning was in fact not a fluke, as you awake with your face smushed against his chest and the smell of steel in your nose once again. He’s not on top of you, at least, but the way he clutches you while you’re lying on your side, one ankle hooked over yours, is somehow ten times more mortifying. You wake him up in the midst of untangling yourself and pretend like nothing happened.

Who’s the idiot now? (The answer is both of you. Both of you are idiots.)

—

The third night, you and Zoro flop onto the hard mattress with twin groans, heads spinning and feeling overall miserable.

“That was the shittiest booze I’ve ever had,” Zoro slurs next to you, face down in his pillow.

“But you got a lead, right?” you mumble.

“Yeah …”

You had been there in the bar when he’d gotten that lead, but you can’t remember what it was for the life of you. Another inn? Another bar? Ugh, you’re never drinking there again.

“I’m cold.”

There are blankets on the bed. Unfortunately, getting underneath them would require a lot of moving, and you are physically incapable of exerting yourself that much right now.

You shiver and turn onto your side to curl up. You’ll fall asleep at some point, anyway.

Zoro murmurs your name.

“Hm,” you groan, eyes screwed shut.

He doesn’t say anything in reply. But you hear the mattress squeak, the bedsheets rustle as he shifts closer, and your breath catches when the small distance between you closes. He does not wrap his arms around you, no, but your knees touch, and the heat from his skin melds into yours. You hear his breathing slow to a crawl.

Through your drunken haze breaks through a sudden need to draw him into you, to tuck your face into his neck and keep it there forever. You want – you want. But you’re exhausted, and your head aches, so you find yourself slipping into a deep slumber instead.

He’s already gone when you wake up.

—

A suspiciously lumpy gunnysack in the corner of the room catches your eye once you enter, hand over your mouth to stifle a yawn.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Eight million beri,” Zoro says from his seat on the bed. Cleaning supplies for his swords are strewn around him, and he sheathes the Wado Ichimonji as you close the door. “I ran into another bounty on the way back.”

“Eight mill –” You clear your throat. “Wow. That was pretty lucky.” Eight million beri. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever get used to how much bounty hunters can make. (God, that would’ve been more than enough to pay for the room.) “We’re heading out to a marine base tomorrow morning, then?”

“That’s the plan.”

He puts away his supplies, setting them and his swords against the wall near his pillow before standing up to pull down the sheets on his side. You turn off the bedside lamp and do the same, crawling in with a sigh.

The two of you simply lie side-by-side until you decide to break the silence with your big mouth again.

“Am I a burden to you?” you ask.

“No.” The plainness of Zoro’s tone is a small comfort, you suppose. “Why are you asking?”

“Well …” You already regret bringing this topic up as you trail off, biting your bottom lip. “I feel like I haven’t really done much. I mean, I help with navigating and searching crowds and stuff, and I’ve been getting better at fighting, but I can’t help you, you know?” You fiddle with your fingers. “You don’t actually need me.”

There’s a gap between you and Zoro that you’ll likely never be able to close. You had always known that, and so had Zoro; in fact, he had told you at the start that going with him was a bad idea, given your inexperience in bounty hunting and traveling in general. And although you’d like to think that your ability to read a map and fix things convinced him of your usefulness, there are times when you think Zoro regrets bringing you along. Like now.

Zoro grunts, turning to lay on his back. His shoulder nearly lands on your hands, and you draw them to yourself as you wait for his answer.

It is brief and straightforward.

“I’m not forcing you to go with me,” he says. “And if you were a burden, I would’ve told you a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

It is brief and straightforward, and yet, there’s a strange lump in your throat. You swallow it and nod, even though he cannot see you do so.

Nothing more is said. However, as the night goes on, you reach out, and you find him, and Zoro finds you, and the space between your arms fills up with warmth and an unspoken promise. And you sleep very well.

[floweringlino]

Shared passion | L.M

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 ; A chef losing his passion for his occupation and a right hand that is losing respect for the person that taught her all she knows.

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; Chef!Minho x SousChef!Reader

𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 ; Mention of knives, slight aggression, loss of passion, mention of burn out, slight angst, fluff, suggestive

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 ; 2,3k

The Gods Menu Masterlist

✎ ❀

"Alright everyone, we can start Mise en place in a second. There are some things that we need to discuss before we start and i'd like everyone to listen." The girl gathered the attention from her colleagues around her, a hand shot up from the back.

"Yes Felix?"

"Where's Chef?" The pastry chef de partie calmly asked, not to piss his sous chef off

"I don't know Lix, we'll see him show up somewhere today. If you need to ask something important about work you can ask me."

"Yes Chef”

Another hand shot up from the crowd. It was the intern. He had been at the restaurant for about 8 months, nearing his exames.

"Anything I can help with Jeongin?"

"Maybe Chef, I had a meeting with Chef at 12.00 about school, what can I do if he doesn't show up?"

"I'll talk to you after debrief, is that okay?" To which he responded with a polite nod.

"Okay now the points of today, first of, today all of you will do as much as possible without mine of Chefs help. Its time to show us what you’re all capable off, that doesn't count for our Interns." All responded with a yes chef.

"Secondly, Changbin. I would like to ask you politely to stop making the Interns clean up your mess. Jeongin is here to learn. I don't need him filling piping bags because you're too lazy to do it yourself. Han,  Jeongin is not your personal Carrot scrapper. Do it yourself." Both men responded with another yes chef and looked down to the floor in embarrassment.

"Three, i will first be carving the meat, after that i will be in the office, working on the fall menu, got any ideas, share them with me. I'd love some of your input."

"Lunch, 30 people, two times no pork. One person gluten-free, and 5 people confirmed vegetarian. Does everyone know what that entails for each partie?" Another yes chef.

"Alright everyone, it's a beautiful day to make some people smile. Let's start Mise en place. Jeongin come with me." The intern followed her into the restaurant where they sat down at one of the tables.

"Talk to me honey." She spoke kindly

"Well you see, i have my exam next month and I still need to do one more assignment before i qualify for the national exams. But i need a superior to sign it."

"And you worry because Chef hasn't been around much." To which he responded with a shy nod.

"I'll get him to sign it. Do you have the paperwork here?" He nodded and gave the papers.

"You'll have it tomorrow, now you do your work. There's a lot to learn from the guys today, try to keep an eye on everything." He nodded happily and went back into the kitchen.  Y/N dropped her head in her hands and her elbows rested on the table bellow her. A deep sigh left her mouth just as Chan entered the restaurant.

Chan and Minho had opened the restaurant together, two weeks after opening Minho called Y/N to become her sous chef.

"Whats the matter?”

"Min is not showing up I think."

Chan sat down next to her putting a caring hand on her shoulder.

"I know its hard but he's going through a bit of a rough path. Don't love faith in him."

"I'll try" she nodded at him, understanding his words.

She went back into the kitchen and did what she did best, cooking her ass off.

At 12 lunch started rolling in but still no Minho to be seen. She called him but was met with a sleepy voice on the other end of the line.

"What?"

"Get your ass here and help me with the new fall menu."

"Why would I?"

"Uhm excuse me what the fuck? What do you mean why would I? Your kitchen, your staff, your mess."

"Whatever, I'll be there in 20."

"You better." And she hung up on him. He did keep his word as 20 minutes later he walked into the restaurant. Not in his work clothes but in his sweatpants and Tshirt.

Y/N wishes everyone a goodluck with service and with that she left to the office, dragging her chef with her.

"I need you to sign this." She shoved Jeongin's papers in his hands.

"Whats this?"

"Your interns papers. Or did you forget you had a meeting with him today at 12?" He smacked his own face which made it clear that he had indeed forgotten. Later that day they had gotten nowhere with the new menu, only arguing and head butting.

Y/N picked up her stuff and stormed out of the office. She made her was to the kitchen with her notepad. Minho running after her.

"Hyunjin, you're in charge for tonight. I need to get the fuck out of here. It's 10 people, will you be okay?"

"Of course I will! Thank you for this opportunity, Chef."

Minho didn't like that answer even one bit.

"Y/N is not your chef so you will not refer to her as such."

She angrily spun around to face him.

"“You are such a fucking asshole, you haven’t shown your face in days and now you do this? You know, i used to admire you but i have lost all respect i ever had for you in this moment. You sad excuse of a leader. You don’t even know what is going on in your own kitchen.”

And with that she left

~

Later that evening Y/N was preparing food for the new menu in her own home. Thought flew through her head and she wrote all of it down, even if some things didn't make any sense. Multiple people for work had texted her their ideas and those also made their way onto her papers.

Her mind wondered to how it all was 10 years ago, she was still an intern at a Michelin star restaurant, freshly turned 18. Completely overwhelmed and extremely confused. It was there where she met Chan and Minho. Chan was just a simple waiter back then but Minho, he was everything the admired about the job.

He had the confidence, the admiration and most importantly he had more passion for his work than everyone around her combined. She looked up to him, started watching his techniques, following his movements. He quickly noticed and took her under his wing. Of course she had learned a lot school but Minho had learned her everything she knew.

He learned her how to use her creativity. He showed her the best techniques, took her to the most important seminars. He made her follow the most interesting courses. Together they rose to the top

Intern, chef de partie

Chef de partie, Junior sous chef

Junior sous chef, sous chef

And now they were at the end of their road. A year ago she knew for sure that there was still so much he could learn her but then he stopped showing up. Y/N had to figure out how to do it without him and it hurt her.

Even a simple bystander could see it. Guests asked Chan about it? Were they together? A normal person saw love but it was so much more than that. It was shared looks of respect, passion and admiration.

Her lonely thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Only after that she noticed the single tear that had rolled down her cheek oh so dramatically. She wiped it away and opened her Front door.

A face full of regret was what she was met with. Both didn't know how to start a conversation so after a couple awkward second of silence, Y/N just gestured for him to come inside of her home.

"I still remember when you still lived with your parents. Now you own a home and have pets."

"Well im not 18 anymore, and you're not 19 anymore. What are you doing here Minho?" She wasn't interested in his small talk. Why did he come to her house at midnight.

"Okay, uhm. How do I start this" he took a couple of seconds before continuing. "Im sorry."

"Explain to me what it is that you're sorry for."

"I'm sorry for letting you down. What can I do to make it up to you?"

She couldn't help but look deep into his eyes. She used to always be able to tell what was going on inside his head but something was blocking it. So she did the one thing what made them a team.

"Cook with me?" She pointed her head to her kitchen where a messy kitchen was displayed. He nodded happily and accepted the apron she handed him. He smiled as he held the fabric in his hand, the logo of his old job looking back at him. She stole it from them. The place that brought them together.

"You kept this?"

"Of course I did. I had the best time of my life there. It's where I met you." She smiled kindly at him, a smile he hadn't received in a couple of months and he couldn't help stare.

"So what are you gonna do."

"You're gonna do what you do best, debone this pheasant."

"Where did you get a pheasant?"

"I have my sources."

And they cooked, they wrote down their ideas and ended the night with a perfect new menu. They were a team and for the first time in a while Minho had found his joy back in the kitchen.

Gradually the cooking came to an end and the scenery changed for the kitchen to the living room.  A opened bottle of wine and deep conversation was where the night was headed.

Minho sat on the couch normally, and Y/N sat next to him but her legs over his. First he wondered if it was the alcohol speaking to him but only now he realised how dumb he had been. Looking in her eyes he realised something.

"I'm gonna start going to therapy I think. Maybe they can help me with my burn out."

"Im proud of you, Min."

"Im proud of you too. I had lost my passion, I felt completely burnt out and tired. And today I realised that it was still there. You made me realise." His finger traced the side of her head and shrugged leaned into his touch.

"Im sorry for pushing you aside and im sorry if i have caused you any pain. I have been horrible to you when you have shown me nothing but kindness from the beginning." His hand moved along her jawline, shyly she looked away but that was not gonna happen like that.with his hand on her chin he lead her face back to his. Their eyes interlocked, Minho leaned closer. His eyes darting towards his lips.

"Minho wait." He stopped and they rested their fore heads against each other.

"Do you want this or is this the alcohol? Because if its not real I don't know if I can do this." She started tearing up but before she could she got her response.

"I don't what this, i need this. I need to hold you, i need to have you. I've waited 10 years for this moment and I'm never gonna let you go." And with that confirmation he presses his soft lips against hers. Soft and tender. He wanted to take in every second of the moment, as they could only get one first kiss. It brought comfort and happiness. A longing that was finally fulfilled. After a soft kiss of a couple of seconds both pulled away.

"I've been in love with you for 10 years, Y/N."

"I've been in love with you too, Min."

He dove back into his kiss happily, smiling into it as he wrapped his arms around her, his arms sliding halfway underneath her hoodie.

"You're so beautiful, i could do this all day with you." She giggled into the kiss which gave him the opportunity to add a little bit of tongue into it which she happily accepted. Her hands wondered to the bottom of his shirt which was quickly taken of in a swift motion, along with many other pieces of clothing. They fell asleep of the couch after that and when Minho woke up at 9 he traced her naked shoulders.

"Wake up my love, we need to go to work." He pressed a kiss against her forehead with care. She humbled.

"Are we going together? Your coming with me?"

"I am. Its time for you to give me back my position."

"Gladly, being chef is fucking tiring."

"Be my Co-Chef? We'll do it together."

"You sure?"

"Id love for you too, the team listens to you. Im not there yet with them. Respect is something you need to earn and i haven't proved myself to them yet."

"You have proven it to me."

He turned to his girl as they made their way to work.

"Are you officially mine now?"

"I've always been yours."

Apparently there are more places for people to find their passion. Sometimes you just need to find the perfect person to help you with it.

Passion is in everyone, even if you can't see it so closely. Chase your dreams and don't be afraid to do new things.

Do the things that make you happy the most.

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 15]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.2K

When Yunho walked in, he was surprised to see just Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho there. You were not to be seen anywhere. From the looks of it, Seonghwa had taken over your head chef duties temporarily, instructing other other two on their tasks for the morning bakes.

"Morning." Yunho greeted, emerging from the locker room after having put his things down. The 3 returned the greeting, turning back to what they were doing.

No doubt, with one person down, they were busy and needed to keep up the pace to deliver on time.

"Is (y/n) coming in late?" Yunho asked as he went to wash his hands.

"No. She's not coming in at all today." Wooyoung replied as he was pouring the cake batter into the cake pans. Yunho stopped for a while, why were you not coming into work today?

"She's sick." Seonghwa informed on your behalf, not offering a lot of added information.

"Oh, I'll step in and help then. The others should be in soon to set up out front." Yunho said. He was to the locker room to retrieve his apron, tying it around his waist and pulling his sleeves up. He came to assist Seonghwa.

"Is she okay?" Yunho asked as he helped measure out the ingredients accoridng to the recipe card. Jongho would have to step up to sous today so Yunho did the prep work.

"She's fine. I'll check on her after this." Seonghwa replied.

"Yunho, can you help me get more vanilla paste from the dry store?" Wooyoung requested.

"Sure thing." Yunho went to the pantry. In the few moments he was there, he couldn't help but feel sad that he wouldn't see you today or work with you.

At the same time, he was worried about you. Should he text you or visit you to see how you were doing?

"Yunho?"

"C-Coming!" Yunho grabbed what Wooyoung needed and left the pantry, passing it over to him. As the rest of the boys came, Yunho instructed them to set up outside while he helped in the kitchen.

"San? Do you have an extra pair of hands?" Yunho asked. San turning to Mingi, who nodded, assuring the other that he could manage setting up the barista counter on his own. San came in, washing his hands and going to help Wooyoung. Yunho briefly stepped out to make sure that everyone was fine outside.

"Where's (y/n)?" Yeosang asked as he cleaned the mugs and stacked them onto the shelves.

"She's sick. That's why the kitchen team needs someone there. So for today, if anyone is confident and available to help out, please volunteer in the kitchen." Yunho spoke.

"Sure. Although, I think it'll be between San and Mingi. For safety, I shall not volunteer." Hongjoong chuckled.

"Agreed." Mingi said, making Hongjoong threaten to punch him.

The kitchen team was fine. They operated as usual, your absence did not hinder them or delay them. Plus, San was able to help out with small things.

"I'll bring this out on my way." San said, taking the trays of muffins out to display to prepare for the store opening,

"Can you two manage? Then I'll start on mise en place for tonight to save us time." Jongho asked.

"Go ahead." Seonghwa nodded. Jongho began preparing the yakumi mise en place containers that had chopped garlic, spring onions, soy sauce, salt, pepper and other things that the chef might need at the stove or their preparation counter.

"I'll need butter." Wooyoung raised his hand. Jongho put the butter into one of the small metal containers for Wooyoung.

"Seonghwa hyung, any specific requests?" Jongho asked.

"Let me check." Seonghwa took his phone out to see what the menu was for tonight. You had discussed with them last night what the dinner menu would be.

"Chives. There's a lot of chive garnishes tonight." Seonghwa replied, scrolling to make sure he did not miss anything out.

"Okay. I'll fill the oil containers as well." Jongho chopped the chives and covered them in plastic wrap.

"Those look heavy, let me help." Yeosang came in, seeing Jongho lift the oil drums to fill the oil bottles. He filled the grapeseed oil bottles while Jongho did the olive oil bottles.

"Shall I bring those out?" Yeosang pointed to the tray of pastries.

"Yes, please. Careful, they might still be hot." Wooyoung cautioned. Yeosang nodded and brought out the tray.

'Hey! I heard you're sick. Are you feeling alright? - Yunho'

Yunho sent you the message before tucking his phone back into his pocket and going ahead to open the restaurant for the day. He greeted the customers with a kind, charming smile. Being a Friday, there were quite some customers already waiting to get their coffee and morning treat.

"Please wait for collection over at the end of the counter." Yunho smiled after returning the change back to the customer. He waved for Hongjoong to take over.

"Do you need any help?" Yunho asked, entering the kitchen.

"We're good. Thanks for helping and rotating with the others to help us, Yunho." Seonghwa smiled.

"Let me make you guys some drinks. Remember to stay hydrated." Yunho reminded, going out to make the regular drinks of the kitchen team. Just as he brought them in, Seonghwa's phone rang.

"Thanks, Yunho. Just leave it there... Hey, (y/n). Hang on." Seonghwa said, stepping into the locker room to speak to you.

Yunho curiously checked his phone. You had read his message but hadn't replied. He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. However, maybe you just woke up and the first thing you did was call Seonghwa to check in.

"Bye." Seonghwa told you and hung up. He noticed Yunho's anticipative stare on him.

"She's fine, Yunho." Seonghwa assured with a small smile, knowing that the taller was anxiously worried. Yunho let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"T-That's good." Yunho smiled. He bowed his head and went back out.

*BZZ BZZ*

'Apologies for taking a sudden day off. - (y/n)'

'Don't apologise! Sickness just happens out of nowhere, no one can ever plan for it :) I hope you're resting well and feeling better!! Take all the time you need! - Yunho'

Yunho read over the message he sent you, he hoped he wasn't too overly enthusiastic. A small smile appeared on his lips, he was glad that you replied. Even if you didn't tell him what happened.

Looking over at your phone, seeing Yunho's reply, you sighed, deciding not to reply for now. You didn't know why you felt bad for lying to him. Maybe because you could tell he was genuinely worried for you. But you swallowed whatever feeling you had and focused on what was happening in front of you.

"So (y/n), where are you working now?" The question that was suddenly thrown at you was unexpected.

"What?" You blinked, looking up.

"We asked where you were working at now? Why are you so distracted? Pay attention." Your father frowned. Your eyes moved to your stepmother.

"I'm working at a new restaurant that just opened. There's no fixed concept." You replied.

"A start up? How did you go from working at the top kitchens to a start up?" Your father scoffed.

"A great opportunity appeared so I decided to take it. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho are working with me. The environment there is good." You said.

"Seonghwa is the Park's younger son, right?" Your stepmother asked. You nodded in confirmation. She always asked, for some reason, even though the answer never changed.

"You're always floating around. It doesn't look good on your rep sheet. You should find a high end place, settle there and work." Your father lectured. You sighed, why was there suddenly so much focus on you when they never cared?

"I like changes in pace and environment, dad. It gets stagnant when I stay in a place for too long." You spoke calmly.

"You've always been so fickle. Just like your mother." He clicked his tongue in disapproval. You clenched your fists, hating the way he spoke about your mother, like he had never loved her.

"Oh, honey. Don't say that. She was still (y/n)'s mother." Your stepmother said.

It was all a facade. To seem like she was nice to her stepchild, when all she did was put her own son on a pedestal.

"That aside, I'm assuming you and Seonghwa will be attending the charity gala, right?" Your stepmother still had her fake smile plastered on her face.

"I am." You nodded.

"That's good. It's a shame that (y/b/n) [your brother's name] cannot make it." She said sadly.

"True, but all our friends and acquaintance know that he's busy studying surgery in the US. It's understandable." Your father reached over to pat the back of her hand with a chuckle. You were glad that attention was off you and instead, on someone who wasn't even around. You didn't care, preferring they ignore you.

When your mother was still alive, your father was a different person. You were his treasure, his world. But when your mother passed, your father became so cold to you, like he hated you.

It became worse when he brought in your stepmother and stepbrother. You were completely ignored, forgotten.

Your stepbrother was studying to be a surgeon in the US. He was your parents' star child now. You, who pursued culinary, was the black sheep.

"Have you made things official with Seonghwa yet?" Your stepmother asked.

"No. As I've said before, we're just close friends. We will not be together." You frowned.

"But it doesn't seem nice that you're always around him, relying on him and hanging out with him when you don't have the intention of getting together with him." She shook her head.

"We're living in the 21st century. And we've been friends for way longer than you have been here so don't act like you can make decisions in our friendship." You said. Your father slammed his hands onto the table.

"(y/n), that's no way to speak to your mother." Your father scolded.

"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have overstepped." She said, like the poor victim that she was.

Both you and Seonghwa came from families of similar status so it was easier to go to functions together instead of having to find a 'date' to accompany you.

"If you want to be introduced to someone, I have some friends who have sons that are single." She giggled.

"I'm good." You replied, picking at your food.

"Your mother is just trying to help, (y/n). At your age, you should find a partner and settle down. Or at least, date." Your father told you, sipping his wine.

"What's with wanting me to settle, dad? Settle at a restaurant, settle in a relationship?" You sighed.

"Because you're never going to get stability in your life if you keep going on the way you are going, (y/n). You can't keep living like this. Or else you're never going to succeed in life. And your stepmother is right, you are holding Seonghwa back from meeting a potential partner for the Park family." He said.

"Until now, with everything I have done, I still haven't succeeded in your eyes?" You asked, ignoring what he said about Seonghwa.

"Not at all." He replied firmly, his gaze hard and cold. You pursed your lips, thinking what to do.

"I'm taking my leave now. I'll see you both at the gala." You stood up despite your stepmother's fake protests of concern. As you exited the private room of the restaurant, you took your phone out.

"You are holding Seonghwa back."

With your father's words fresh in your head, you decided not to text Seonghwa, even if you told him you would after the lunch with your parents.

"Take a walk." You told yourself with a long sigh, you wished you had your hoodie to isolate you but you were dressed a little more formally, an expectation of you when meeting your family.

"(y/n)?" You stopped when you heard someone call your name. You looked up and saw Hongjoong standing there. He looked surprised, eyes looking at you, probably judging the way that you were dressed. You stared at him.

"Are you alright?" He tilted his head, eyes full of concern. Even if you didn't say anything, Hongjoong could sense that you were upset.

"I'm fine." You replied. You saw the art supply bags in his hands, he was probably going to his studio.

"Yunho said you were sick, that's why you weren't there in the morning and that you weren't coming tonight..." He said. You grimaced, were you caught in a lie?

"Are you sure you're okay? Should I call Seonghwa or-" Hongjoong offered. Your eyes widened.

"No need." You cut him off. Realising how unintentionally harsh you might have sounded, you cleared your throat.

"So, I'm actually headed to my studio if you would like to come hang. No obligations, just a place a chill." Hongjoong offered kindly. You knew you should have said no.

"Sure." You nodded. Hongjoong smiled softly and led you to his studio. The two of you walked in silence. To be honest, you didn't look sick and considering how you were dressed up, it looked like you had just went out. But it wasn't his place to question you, especially when he could tell you're going through something.

You agreed to go with Hongjoong because you needed a distraction and you didn't want to be alone. If Hongjoong could take your mind off the conflict with your family, it would help you relax.

"Wow." You entered the studio space. Two entire walls were floor to ceiling windows, letting in a lot of light.

"Sorry about the mess. I don't usually have people over." Hongjoong said in embarrassment.

"It's fine, not as bad as you think. Thank you for letting me into your private space." You bowed your head. Hongjoong stared at you before he burst out laughing.

"(y/n), relax. It's all good." He chuckled, putting the supplies he just got down at his desk.

"Sorry, what do you do again?" You asked, forgetting what he told you before.

"I recreate fashion items. Like shoes. I'll buy sneakers and repaint them or redesign them. But right now, I'm working with different kinds of jackets." He explained, pulling a stool for you to sit.

"Let me show you some stuff I have been working on more recently. I mainly work based of commissions for now or smaller content creators for collaboration projects." Hongjoong dragged over a clothes rack with jackets on them.

"These are amazing." You said, lifting one of the leather jackets up to see the design. Then you moved onto the denim jacket.

"The stitching is a little messy. I usually hand stitch but I'm learning how to use a sewing machine instead." He chuckled, pointing at the fabric arm band he added on.

"I would never be able to do this, I don't have the talent for such art." You said.

"Art comes in many different forms. Your art is in your cooking, I wouldn't even think of recreating a dish of yours." He said.

"Thanks for thinking so highly of me." You let out a bitter laugh. That wasn't supposed to come out so sarcastically but you couldn't help the feeling your father had left you with.

"You're doing great, (y/n). Ignore what others say." Hongjoong smiled.

"Please don't let me keep you away from your work. There's only so much time before you have to return for dinner service." You avoided the topic, wanting to move from it entirely. Hongjoong hummed, moving around his studio. You watched as he sketched out ideas on a paper before doing it on a scrap fabric.

*RINGGGGG*

"Sorry." You stood up and moved to the side to take the call. It was Seonghwa. As expected, he was worried that you hadn't called him or contacted him.

"No, the lunch ended.... Or rather, I ended it." You said, leaning against the wall, letting out a sigh.

"Are you okay? You didn't text or call me... Who am I kidding? You're not okay. Where are you now? Do you want me to get you?"

"No, Hwa. I'm okay now. I bumped into Hongjoong so I'm hanging out at his studio now. Don't worry about me, I'll head home in a bit. Just needed a distraction." You said.

"Wait, you're with Hongjoong? Never mind that. (y/n), tell me what's wrong."

"We'll talk after dinner service, alright? Don't be distracted by me." You rubbed your forehead.

"We are definitely talking after this. Get some rest."

You hummed before hanging up. Maybe you should have just headed home and turned off your phone. You hated how after so long, your father's words still got to you and affected you. Taking a deep breath, you straightened up and headed back to where Hongjoong was.

"Everything good?" Hongjoong tilted his head, seeing the slight sour expression on your face.

"I'm not feeling too good. I think I should head home. But thanks for bringing me and the chat." You plastered on a fake smile as you grabbed your bag.

"Want me to take you to a doctor? Or send you home?" He asked.

"No need. I can just take a cab. Thanks again, Hongjoong." You patted his shoulder and walked out of the studio.

During dinner service, Yunho listened from the pass window, Wooyoung and Jongho asking Seonghwa how you were or if he has heard from you. He felt bad for eavesdropping but he was curious.

"I spoke to her on the phone for a bit. I'm going to see her after work. You know how she gets..." Seonghwa sighed.

"Want us to go too?" Wooyoung offered.

"It's okay. I'll go see how she is first. She didn't sound too good on the phone." Seonghwa replied.

"Promise you'll tell us how she is." Jongho said. Seonghwa hummed in reply. Yunho pouted slightly, he grew increasingly worried about you. Maybe he was overstepping but he felt compelled to go visit you at your house and see how you were. But if Seonghwa was going, Yunho knew he shouldn't go.

"Hey, Seonghwa. Are you going to see (y/n)?" Yunho was surprised to hear Hongjoong entered the conversation. The shorter must not have seen Yunho standing by the pass window.

"Yeah. After work. What's up?" Seonghwa asked.

"She left this at my studio when she was there earlier. Help me return it to her?" Hongjoong presumably passed something to Seonghwa.

"I will. Thank you. And thanks for accompanying her earlier." Seonghwa said.

"No need to thank. What are friends for?" Hongjoong chuckled before leaving the kitchen. Yunho's eyes widened as he overheard this conversation. You were physically with Hongjoong earlier, at his studio?

What was your relationship with him that you met him outside of work, especially when you took a sick day?

His mind raced with possibly theories and reasons. He hadn't even noticed that you were that close with Hongjoong. And most importantly, why was there an ache in Yunho's chest at the thought of you being closer to Hongjoong compared to him?

~

Series masterlist

[leonscape]

A Birthday Showered in Love

Happy birthday Mo! I know it's not very Napoleon focused, it kinda just ended up being a birthday celebration with all of the residents so I hope it's not a disappointment. Anyway, I hope you had a good birthday and cheers to another year of health and happiness.

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly

Napoleon anxiously glanced at the clock. The sun already set hours ago but he was still secretly preparing his surprise. He carefully made some crepe batter and set up the mise en place for the filling of the crepes. Fresh fruit in season was thoroughly washed so it would be quickly diced tomorrow morning for sweet crepes. Meat and cheese was also an option for a more savory crepe. 

Next, he decorated the dining room fit for his lover’s birthday celebration. After everyone had retired to their personal rooms, Napoleon took advantage of the silence and privacy to set up a suitable breakfast table. Earlier, Sebastian arranged bouquets of flowers so that they could be arranged for the birthday surprise.

 Maybe it would make more sense to wake up early and prepare everything so it’s all fresh and it doesn’t have to survive the night. But for Napoleon, waking up early isn’t easy. The best strategy he could come up with to surprise Mo was to get everything ready the previous night. 

With a satisfied smile, hands on his hips, Napoleon admired his work and headed off to bed to his waiting lover. 

“Kept me waiting long enough,” Mo said. 

“My apologies,” Napoleon nonchalantly responded. 

Mo raised a brow. “Did something good happen?” 

“Yes,” he said with a cheeky smile. “My lover is in my bed, waiting for me.” He got rid of his shirt and crawled into bed to give her an innocent peck on the lips. 

And so, the two lovers shared an innocent night in bed, sleeping. Nothing else. 

In the morning, it turns out that Mo was starting to adopt Napoleon’s habits. The two slept in after a long night of very innocent cuddling. By then, all the residents had gathered in the dining room for breakfast. They each brought their gifts and patiently waited. And waited. And waited.

“The hell is taking them so long?” Theo muttered. “I don’t wanna let these pancakes get cold.”

“They’ll be here any minute,” Vincent reassured. 

“Maybe someone should wake them up?” Isaac suggested. 

“Well since you came up with the idea, why don’t you go?” Arthur pat Isaac on the back.

“W-what! No, I don’t want-”

“You don’t want to intrude on the remnants of their late night tryst? My, what a dirty mind you’ve got there, Newt,” Arthur teased. 

“I just don’t want to intrude on their business! That’s all. I am simply respecting their boundaries,” Isaac defended himself. 

“So you want someone else to do it?” Dazai continued. 

“No! That’s not what I meant.”

“I think it’s perfectly reasonable to not want to walk in on a couple. They need their space after all,” Mozart sighed. 

“For heaven’s sake, I’ll go get them. My damn pancakes are getting cold,” Theo grumbled. He stomped through the halls and made sure to step extra loud when approaching Napoleon’s room. He knocked on the door and called out to them. “Hey love birds, breakfast is ready. Or are we gonna have breakfast for lunch?”

After some suspicious rustling and shifting muffled behind the door, Mo opened the door and answered. “Sorry, Napoleon went to sleep late last night, so he seems to be extra sleepy this morning.” 

“Well, wake his ass up,” Theo said. 

“I’m trying, but he just looks so peaceful,” Mo gushed. 

“Fine. Leave him. How about you come to breakfast and Napoleon will join us on his own Napoleon time?” 

Mo agreed and arrived at the dining room. A stream of disorganized happy birthdays filled the air. “Aww, thanks you guys!”

“Don’t thank us, thank that sleepy head that stayed up late to organize all of this,” Theo said. “Happy birthday, Mo.” Finally, Theo was able to enjoy his pancakes, a little cold, but still sweet and sticky all the same. 

Arthur clapped his hands and announced, “Present time! Me first. So Theo and I collaborated a little.”

“Nope, it was by pure coincidence,” Theo spoke through muffled chubby cheeks. 

“Aw, you’re no fun. Anyway, here’s mine, and they go with Theo’s.” Arthur handed her two wrapped gift boxes. First, the smaller one, Arthur’s box. Fancy and quite expensive looking matching fountain pens. “I figure a fellow writer would need some new pens that’ll last a while.” 

“Thank you, Arthur.” Mo beamed a bright smile. Next was the bigger box, Theo’s gift. Lots of stationery items filled the box. High quality paper and envelopes, a sleek leather journal, some stamps, and even wax to seal the envelopes. “Woah! This is amazing! Thanks Theo!” He simply nodded while drowning in pancakes. 

Dazai slinked next to Mo and presented his gift to her. Lots of colorful origami paper, a thousand sheets to be exact and instructions on how to fold paper cranes. “Thanks to Sebas for helping me acquire such a rare item. They say that whoever folds a thousand cranes will get their wish granted. People have folded them for good health and fortune, and even brides fold them before their wedding.” 

“Then I’ll fold each and every one of them. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sadako-san.”

Mozart approached and handed Mo his gift to her. “Here.” He shoved it in her face. Without hesitation, she opened it. “It’s a music box that you can also store your jewelry in.” 

“Thanks! It’s so pretty!” It was a dark stained wooden box with intricate designs carved on the sides. When it was wound up, it played a soft lullaby. “I’ll make sure to use it well.” 

“Hey, Newt’s got a present for you too!” Arthur continued to harass Isaac. 

The blush erupted on his cheeks in an angry cherry red. He was muttering something about giving it to Mo later, but Arthur gave him a friendly nudge. Isaac didn’t bother to wrap it as it was already in a box of its own and just handed it over. “It’s a telescope for you and Napoleon, if… y’know… you want to look at the stars.” 

“I’ll have to invite Napoleon to stargaze with me soon! Thank you, Isaac.”

Next was Jean’s turn. “Happy birthday, mademoiselle.” Mo opened the poorly wrapped box to find a pair of shoes. “Napoleon helped me pick them out. They are versatile. You can wear them while doing errands and keep your feet comfortable.” 

“They’re lovely, Jean. Thank you, I will wear them when I go out.” 

By now, all the gifts surrounded Mo like a forcefield of love. But perhaps the biggest gift of all was from Vincent. He revealed a portrait in his signature art style and presented it to Mo. “It’s you and Napoleon in a field of flowers. Colorful brush strokes were carefully slathered with strategic intentions and a practiced hand. Two figures took up the foreground while bursts of colors stretched from the middle to the background. 

“It’s so beautiful! Thank you so much, Vincent. We’ve gotta hang this up!” Mo marveled at Vincent’s artistry. 

Looking at the people surrounding her, Mo began to tear up. Although they all came from different times and places, they were able to foster relationships and share a bond that would stand the test of time. 

“Oh? Did we miss everything?” Leonardo entered the dining room. Comte followed in after. “My apologies. Happy birthday, cara mia.”

Leonardo simply gifted Mo a timeless watch that could go with every outfit but still had an elegant touch. Meanwhile Comte splurged a little, handing her gift bag after gift bag of clothes and other accessories.”Happy birthday, Mo. I hope this year is even brighter than the last,” Comte said. 

Tears of joy welled up in Mo’s eyes as she scanned each gift over and over again. 

Finally, Napoleon time caught up with everyone else. “Looks like everyone’s here.” 

“Did you set all of this up?” Mo asked. 

“Sort of. Everyone was asking me for help picking out a birthday gift for you. So I just asked them if they could have their gifts ready by this morning. That way, as soon as you start the day, we could begin celebrating.” 

“Aww Napo! This is an amazing birthday. Thank you so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I love you, Mo.”

Arthur interrupted the tender moment, “So you show up fashionably late to the party and without a gift?” 

“I’ll be giving her a gift later.”

“Ah, you mean a-”

“I think we all know what he means,” Theo cut Arthur off. 

haha we got an "i think we all sing" meme moment here from theo lol. also technically dazai never knew about sadako sasaki's story but that's what i wanted to reference so i just wrote it like that. although i know the legend through the bride making the 1000 cranes hehe

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Mise en Place, Chapter 4

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: M

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness, no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, things gone get SPICY later 🔥 (aka smut in future chapters)

Word Count: ~2600

A/N: Here we are with another update!

Divider by the phenomenally talented @theradioactivespidergwen!

Tag List: @danzer8705 @shouldbestudying41 @capylore @mattmurdockstateofmind @yarrystyleeza

“New text message.”

Matt finished blending the batch of Daredevil's house salad dressing he was currently preparing and put it in the fridge to set before pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping at the screen.

He smiled when his phone announced that the text was from you.

“Thank you so much for the flowers,” it read off to him. “They're beautiful. By the way I'm thinking of you too and also can't wait to see you again. Heart emoji.”

Matt's smile widened into a grin. He had spent thirty minutes at the florist this morning trying to choose the perfect bouquet of flowers to send to you and come up with the perfect message to go on the accompanying card.

“Ooh, heart emoji,” Foggy teased good-naturedly from over at the sink. “You two must've had a really good time last night.”

Matt chuckled. “Not in the way you're insinuating, but yeah, we did.”

“And? Tell me all about your evening with your woman.”

“One second.” Matt hit the reply button and dictated, “I'm glad you like them, smile emoji” before sending his response.

He put his phone away and moved back to the prep counter to peel potatoes for the day's batch of gnocchi. “Okay, so…”

He began to recount his evening with you to Foggy, from the hug the two of you had shared when you had first arrived at Matt's apartment, to holding your hand while you went up to the roof and your gasp of delight at the decor, and the long conversation that you two had shared during dinner. “We talked for so long that I almost forgot about dessert, so rather than having her wait upstairs while I finished making it I suggested that we just have dessert downstairs, which she said she was fine with.”

He smiled at the memory. His original plan had been for the two of you to have dessert on the roof then head downstairs to cuddle on Matt's couch, but he had to admit that the alternative had been quite enjoyable as well. “She also said that she likes watching me cook, even if I'm just making whipped cream in a mixer.”

Foggy joined Matt at the prep table to start peeling and chopping some carrots. “Aww, that's sweet, although I think it's more of the fact that it's you making it, buddy.”

Matt grinned. “Anyway, I had been wanting to kiss her all night but hadn't really had the opportunity, so while we were having dessert I told her she had chocolate mousse on her mouth and made my move.”

Foggy huffed out a laugh. “Matthew Murdock, you smooth sonofabitch.”

Matt shrugged. “Turns out I wasn't that smooth, because right after I kissed her she asked how I knew she had something on her face.”

Foggy gasped. “Oh shit, what'd you say? She doesn't know about your freakishly sensitive senses, does she?”

Matt shook his head. Foggy and Karen both knew about how the chemicals that had blinded him had also enhanced his remaining senses far beyond normal human capabilities, but he wasn't comfortable sharing that information with you quite yet. “No, I’ve only told her that my palate became sensitive after the accident and that's how I got into cooking.”

“So then what'd you say?”

“She didn't really have any chocolate mousse on her mouth, so I told her that I didn't actually know and had just wanted to kiss her.” Matt grinned. “She said I didn't need to make up a reason to try to kiss her, so I took that as permission to kiss her again and we wound up making out like teenagers in my kitchen.”

Foggy lightly bumped Matt with his shoulder. “Yeah, go Matty.”

Matt shook his head. “Anyway, needless to say that the evening turned out really well, so I told her in no uncertain terms that I wanted to see her again then walked her home and kissed her good night.”

“And bought her flowers this morning.”

“Yeah.” 

Foggy stopped chopping. “You know, I know things haven't been easy for you since She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but I'm honestly really glad to see you happy.”

Matt nodded. “Thanks, Fog.”

While you genuinely seemed to enjoy watching Matt cook and didn't mind having to wait while he finished preparing and plating your meals, Elektra had never been one to be willing to wait for her food or hang around the kitchen -- she had always wanted her meals fully prepared and ready to eat before she sat down for a dinner date and refused to be Matt's taste-tester whenever he was experimenting with new recipes. “Honestly, Matthew,” she had said the first and only time he had asked her to taste-test for him. “I have much better things to do with my time than to sit there and watch you play around in the kitchen.”

In hindsight, Matt should've realized that Elektra had been using him. You, however… 

You were genuine. I don't want to have to wait until later to ask her out again.

He set his vegetable peeler down. “I'll be right back.”

Foggy huffed out a laugh. “Tell her hi for me.”

Matt grinned and headed to the office, pulling his phone out of his pocket in order to call you.

“... Anonymous sources tell the Bulletin that the surprise inspection stemmed from a report of food poisoning originating at the restaurant. Requests for comment from owner and executive chef Wilson Fisk were not returned by press time.”

Skyler huffed out a laugh as you finished reading your story about Kingpin's closure out loud. “Pretty easy to fact-check when we're the ‘anonymous sources’, isn't it?”

You grinned. “Plus we got an exclusive.”

You paused as your phone rang, Matt's name flashing across the screen. “Oh, hold on a second. It's Matt.”

You answered. “Hello?”

Matt said your name. “Hi.”

You couldn't help but smile at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Matt.”

“Is this a bad time?”

“No, not at all. I'm just finishing up an article to send to my boss for approval.”

Skyler lightly tapped on your desk and mouthed, “I'll talk to you later.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“So what's your article about?” Matt asked.

“Kingpin's closure,” you replied. “It's just a short thing for the online edition since we weren't able to make the print one this morning. We're late reporting about it but at least we have information that the other publications don't about what triggered the closure.”

“Ah, yeah, Foggy did say that Skyler mentioned that the Bulletin was covering that.” Matt paused. “Hey, um, speaking of Kingpin, I don't know if you can mostly write about whatever you want or if your boss assigns all of your articles, but major violations like the ones that got Kingpin shut down don't just happen overnight, so if you're able and have time you might want to dig into their past health inspection records and see if anything looks funny to you.”

Your eyes widened. Matt could possibly be handing you a major scoop. “Are you saying that you think they were falsified?”

“I honestly can't say for certain,” Matt replied hesitantly. “ But there's been rumblings within the industry for years about Fisk being involved in a lot of shady and underhanded dealings, so it really wouldn't surprise me if it turned out that he had someone at the Health Department on his payroll.”

You were pretty sure that the health department’s inspection records were publicly available, but even if they weren't you would easily be able to file a request through the Bulletin . “My boss does assign some of my articles, but he gives me enough autonomy to where I can at least look into it.”

“Okay, thanks.” Matt paused. “Anyway, that's not actually why I called. I was wondering if maybe we could meet for lunch tomorrow? Say around noon?”

Your heart fluttered at the thought of getting to see Matt again so soon -- you honestly hadn't expected him to have time for you until the weekend at the very least. “Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to.”

“Great! I thought maybe we could go to that little park near the Bulletin , have a picnic then take a quick walk together if there's time?”

You knew which park Matt was referring to -- you occasionally took walks along the walking path there on your lunch break when you needed to escape from the chaos of the office for a bit. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Oh, and one other thing. I wanted to let you know that business at the restaurant has already picked up thanks to your article -- we got 12 reservations overnight just for this evening alone, and I'm sure at least a few more have come in since Foggy checked the reservation system this morning.”

You grinned. You had hoped that your article would help get the word out about Daredevil. “Oh my gosh, Matt, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you.”

“Thanks. And actually I have to run so I can get back to helping Foggy with prep since we know we'll be busier than usual, but I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow. And I'll let you know if I find anything that seems suspicious about Kingpin's health inspection records.”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Talk to you later. Bye, Matt.”

“Bye.”

You hung up, a smile on your face.

You read over your Kingpin article one more time before emailing it to Ellison, then got up and headed to his office. 

You knocked on his open door. “Hey, Mitch, you got a second?”

Ellison looked up from an article he was proofreading. “Yeah, what's up?”

“I wanted to let you know that I just sent you the article on the Kingpin shutdown, but I also received a tip that Wilson Fisk may have been bribing employees at the health department to falsify their inspection reports.”

Ellison's eyebrows raised. “Holy shit, really?”

You nodded. “Chef Murdock told me that there's been talk in the culinary industry for years about Fisk engaging in shady business practices and that the health code violations that triggered Kingpin's shutdown don't just happen overnight, so he suspects that Fisk had people from the health department on his payroll. It seems like it's worth at least looking into, so I figured I could submit a public records request for Kingpin's health inspection reports to see if I notice any kind of discrepancies.”

Ellison thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, go ahead. Let me know what you find and we'll proceed from there.”

“Okay, thanks. I will.”

You returned to your desk and pulled up the website for the New York Health Department, then submitted an online request for hardcopies of Kingpin's health inspection records.

You smiled as the bouquet of roses Matt had sent you caught your eye once again.

It had been an incredibly kind and sweet gesture and needless to say that you were definitely looking forward to your lunch date with Matt the next day. Yeah, he's nothing like Kelsie had made him out to be.

“Hey, so what did Chef Hottie want?” Skyler said as she stopped by your desk. “Did he ask you out on another date?”

You shook your head with a grin. “Okay, first off, can you please start calling him Matt? I don't know how Foggy would feel hearing the woman he's dating referring to his best friend-slash-business partner as ‘Chef Hottie’.”

Skyler laughed. “Okay, fine. Did Matt ask you out on another date?”

You nodded. “As a matter of fact, he did. We're having lunch together at the park down the street tomorrow.”

Skyler wiggled her eyebrows. “Ooh, a picnic lunch. How romantic.”

“He also said that the restaurant got a boost in reservations yesterday.”

Skyler huffed out a relieved breath. “Oh, good. I know Foggy had been worried about that.”

“Matt too.” You thought about telling Skyler what Matt had suspected regarding Kingpin's health inspection records, but decided to keep it to yourself until you knew if there was actually any weight to it. “I was thinking about picking up some dinner from Daredevil tonight but I don't want to bother him, especially if they're extra busy.”

Skyler shrugged. “How about drinks after work instead? We can hit up happy hour at that new library-themed bar near my place, fill up on wine and appetizers, gossip about our guys.”

You nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

“Okay, great. I've got to go cover the Rotary Club’s monthly luncheon, but I'll be back in a few hours.”

“Okay.” You winked. “Don’t have too much fun.”

Skyler shook her head with a smile. “It’ll be a struggle, but I’ll try.”

You grinned as Skyler headed out on assignment. Last week may have been a shit show, but this one was definitely looking up.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mise en Place 8

Warnings: noncon, coercion, manipulation, violence and blood, alusions to past abuse. Proceed with caution.

Note: Ooh we getting into the nitty gritty.

Thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

The quiet in the street makes you want to believe things are as they should be. You walk with vigilance and urgency. One eye over your shoulder, a hand in your pockets, around your keys, just in case…

Another block and the tension eases. You’re not there yet. You turn your head before you reach the alley. Nothing. No shadows, only the yellow glare of streetlights.

You dip down between the brick walls and free your keys from your pocket. You slow as you see the dark space between your door and the frame. No. No, no, no. The knob barely hangs from the wood as the void stares back at you.

You spin and hit a wall. You’re thrown back by the figure waiting for you. You hit the steps and bounce onto the ground, your keys flying from your grasp. You’ve never felt such sheer force, even with him.

Your back hits the pavement, the breath gusting from you harshly. You wheeze, the air elusive as you try to take a gulp. A foot lands in the centre of your stomach and has you curling around the boot. It pulls back and toes your side, then finally a crack across your face.

You taste blood. You finally suck in a breath as you curl onto your side and cover your leaking mouth. What is happening? Is it him? Is it Johnny? You should’ve known you can’t escape him.

The crunch of gravel makes you wince and the darkness shifts. You stare at the silhouette distorted on the brick. You groan as the figure steps over you. You roll on the ground, choking on blood and spit. The footsteps trail inside, the hinges whining loud behind you.

The man disappears inside, the creak of the stares marking his absence. He’s in your apartment, your home. You fish around shakily, groping for your phone. It’s gone.

You roll onto your stomach, planting your elbows in the scatter of gravel across the pavement. You see your phone, not far from your keys. You drag yourself as your head swells and swirls. You reach out to grasp the cell and the footfalls stomp out and land thunderously at the bottom of the concrete steps.

You look up but can’t get a good look at the culprit, not before his sole once more crashes into your skull. You’re sent onto your back again and hear his boot come down on your phone, shattering the screen. You wheeze and whimper as you hide beneath your hands.

“Please…” you garble wetly, “just… end it… now…” You sniffle, "Johnny, please..."

Your heart races, deafening you. You’ve waited long enough for this. For the inevitable. You would rather it just be over.

You lay, unmoving, waiting. Nothing happens. You let your hands slip from your face, arms falling limp beside you. You shudder at the emptiness of the alley. He’s gone but you know he’ll be back.

⚡

You don’t call the police. That’s what he wants. He’s one of them. 

You get yourself up after what seems an eternity. You’re not entirely sure you didn’t pass out. You drag yourself up the steps and get inside, pushing the loose door into the frame, ignoring as it opens a few inches behind you. 

You climb the staircase one foot at a time. You cling to the banister and fall onto the landing. Your apartment is open too. The lock is still intact but you doubt it will do any good. He got past it once.

You keel over inside the door. You stay against it as you drift off into a gray sleep. The sort where the waking world roils just through the thin shield of your eyelids. You wake up several times, moving only as the sun kisses the floorboards.

You call work. You just have one more day before time off but you know you can’t make it in. Even if you were beat down, you need to get your door fixed. Your landlord will likely tack that onto the rent.

A hot bath is hard fought. You finally get yourself over the lip of the tub and into the splashing stream of the faucet. The steam makes it hard to breathe through the dried blood in your nose. You soak until the water is lukewarm and tinted with dirt and blood.

You climb over the top and clatter onto the tile. You wrap yourself in a towel and crawl out to the front room. You roll onto the futon and bury yourself in denial and the duvet. You’ll call Lewis when… your phone, it’s in the alley, broken.

You don’t know. You’ll find a way. When you can think. When you can move.

⚡

You don’t leave your apartment for two days. You don’t even try to retrieve your phone from the alley. You don’t care about the front door. You spend hours staring at the lock on the apartment door, expecting it to flip back at any time.

When at last you can function, you get dressed. You have to go to work. You need a new lock and a new cell. You doubt you’ll be able to afford those any time soon, even if you hadn’t taken a day off.

Your stomach wobbles at the thought of going in. You’re embarrassed. You can’t hide the damage done. You don’t want to tell the truth, so you come up with a simple lie.

You prop the door shut on your way out. It won’t really keep anyone out but it’s better than nothing. You see what’s left of your cell on the ground, the green circuit board cracked and poking out from the shell.

You limb down the street, gripping your ribs until you come in sight of the club. It’s taken you twice as long as usual. You approach the front door and the bouncer with the scarred face merely lifts a brow at your appearance before letting you in. He’s seen worse, that’s obvious.

You keep your head down and drop your arm as you enter. You slowly make your way upstairs but stop halfway, dizzy and breathless. You lean on the railing and hear someone else coming up behind you.

“Nice to have you back, F–” the voice begins but fizzles out. Thor pauses beside you as you stare at your feet, shakily lifting one to the next step. “Oh gods, what has happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? It can’t be–”

“I fell down some stairs,” you fib as you grunt and lift yourself onto the next step.

“Down some stairs? Oh my, that’s horrible. Here, let me help you,” he puts his hand on the small of your back and you flinch, letting out a yelp. “Ah, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

You shake your head and swallow, “really, I don’t need–” your legs quake as you squeeze the railing tighter.

“Just put your hand on my arm, fawn,” he insists and moves your free hand to the inside of his elbow, “hold on, and we’ll go slow.”

You flutter your lashes, fighting back your shame as you let him guide you up. You have no choice, you won’t make it up on your own. You lean on him without thinking as he patiently keeps pace with you. 

You wish he wouldn’t make such a big deal. You wish he didn’t pay any attention to you. You wish you could be invisible again.

[gretavanbear]

The Professor - Josh Kiszka x Fem!Reader

MDNI!!! 18+ !!!

warnings : smut (;

[a/n: hi people. i just wanted u to know i love u guys sm and i appreciate every like and comment and anon ask about this fic. it warms my heart knowing people enjoy reading my silly little story. anyways.. enjoy!]

SCREENING #5 : The Big Hearted Will Take the Bride

“Good morning, everyone!” Josh walked in with a big smile, waving at the students in his class. As he walked by your row of seats, his eyes fixated on yours, staring for a couple seconds before looking down at the steps in front of him. You bit back a smirk thinking about the way his bed sheets felt against your skin and wondered if he pushed back that thought as well. 

“I hope everyone had a lovely weekend. I know I did” He chuckled.

He opened his notebook on the podium and checked his class notes for the day. You inspected the way his hair fell perfectly into place, his glasses sat on his nose and left little marks on it at the end of the day. He wore a gray button down with some dark pants today, with his usual brown vans. He looked cute, comfortable. But your mind wondered back to that night, the camera in his room...

“Today’s screening is The Big Hearted Will Take the Bride. This is an amazing film and I want us all to focus on the mise-en-scene for the scenes we’re going to be witnessing. Try to notice how they frame the characters, how their dances and scenery creates a portrayal of these people’s cultures. This film is pretty long and so if any of you feel the need to walk out and take a small break feel free to do so. Enjoy!” He spoke. His voice was so calming, and you wish he’d just talk to you instead of screening the movie, but you remembered you were here to learn and you wanted to be like him. 

As the lights turned off, Josh sat diagonal to you, in front of you to your left. You watched as he turned his head back and shot you a soft smile before resting his head on his arm as the movie started playing. 

*** 

You turned to face him as the sunrise illuminated his bedroom. His bedsheet draped over his thighs and stopped right under his v-line, which let you have a moment to see his tattoo. It was a small little half-moon with a music note in the middle of the little curve. You wondered what it represented as your pointer finger traced the little black lines. 

“Good morning” Josh’s groggy morning voice caught your attention. 

“Hi” You smiled shyly as you looked up at him. You rested your head on his stomach, facing him. His hand caressed your head and massaged it with his fingers in your hair which made you want to purr, his touch felt so warm. 

“How’d you sleep?” He asked softly, his lips pink and pretty. You studied the way his eyelashes brushed his cheeks when he blinked, the way his lips were always a little upturned, the little gap between his two front teeth. 

“I slept okay, thank you. How did you sleep?” You returned the question, sitting up and caressing his stomach with your hand. 

“Amazing. I always sleep better when there’s a pretty lady in my bed.” His answer made you blush, giggling to yourself quietly as you leaned in for a soft kiss. He returned it immediately, his hand still in your hair as the two of you kissed passionately. 

You pulled away to catch your breath, looking down at him as he smiled softly. Your eyes watched the way his chest rose and descended, the way his skin looked so delicate and pretty under the sunlight which seeped through his big windows. You looked at the hair on his arms, the beauty marks on his shoulders, how every little detail about him was perfect and you were so entranced by his looks that you didn’t notice him playing with your hair. 

You hummed as his fingers caressed your scalp, making you rest your head on his chest. Your fingers found his tattoo once again and traced it’s lines. 

“Josh?” it felt weird to speak, you thought you were dreaming. 

“Hm?” He spoke, his voice so gentle. 

“What’s this mean?” Your fingers caressing the little mark on his lower stomach, the moon and little music note. You wondered if it was a meaningful tattoo to him, and why did he decide to get it. 

“I got it with my brother when we graduated together.” He said. You turned your head to face him and he looked down at you, resting his head on his free arm. 

“Are you close with him?” You asked, resting your head on your arm now, mirroring him. You watched his eyes light up as he prepared himself to answer, licking his lips.

“We are. He’s my best friend, my other half actually… He’s my identical twin.” He spoke with a smile. You smiled big as you learned more about Josh, he was so special. 

“We studied education together. He’s a music professor now. Before heading off to university we’d always play in our garage with our younger brother Sammy and his best friend, Daniel. We always dreamed of becoming this huge famous band someday, but it never happened. I know Jake, my twin, always holds out the hope that it’ll happen but he understood my dream to teach.. As a deal we got those matching tattoos- to remind us that we’re still there for each other.” He explained. 

“That’s beautiful.” You replied, placing your hand on his chest and resting your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m sure you’ve seen him around campus, he’s always swinging by my office.” Josh chuckled. 

***

“Professor Kiszka?” You spoke, knocking on the open door. 

“Yeah?” He spoke, before looking up from his work and smiling at your presence. “Oh hello, you” he spoke, getting up and meeting you at the door, closing it behind you. “Need help with your homework, doll?” He asked with a smirk, holding your hand and bringing you to his desk. 

“Yeah… I just.. Do nooot understand what you taught us today, professor.” You spoke with a small smirk as he sat you on his lap, his hand on your thigh. 

“Hmm, what do you want to know exactly?” He spoke, his lips finding your neck softly, leaving small wet kisses on your warm skin. He spun you so you faced him, making it so you were straddling his lap, his thumbs caressing your inner thighs. “Tell me, what can I teach you?” He said softly as his hands made their way to the hem of your long sleeved shirt, his fingertips leaving goosebumps down your spine. 

“I want you to teach me how to please you..” You whispered against his jawline as his hands made their way to your breasts- you had not worn a bra with the hopes that he’d notice. He did, he noticed quickly as his fingers found your nipples, teasing them a little while his lips found yours. He kissed you passionately as his cock grew harder in his pants- you could feel it through his pants which made you want him so badly. 

“I know how you can please me.” He breathed out, pulling away so he can make eye contact. He looked down at the space between the two of you, then back up to meet your gaze slowly. “Get on your knees.” He ordered. You listened, getting under his desk and waiting for your next command. You watched the way his fingers snuck to his belt buckle, undoing it and removing it, unzipping his pants. Your eyes focused on the shape of his cock through his gray underwear- a little wet spot at the tip. He was so perfect, and you couldn’t stop yourself but you started salivating at the sight of him pulling it out. It was so beautiful under the sunlight, the shape was perfect, the way his veins traced it’s figure just made you want him even more. 

You wrapped your hand around him, giving him a few strokes and watched his reaction. He gasped softly and his eyelids fluttered, his long lashes brushing against his cheeks as he felt you swipe your thumb over the tip, which made him buck his hips up, needing more. You kept eye contact as you kitten-licked the tip, slowly making your way around wrapping your lips completely over it, sucking softly. 

“Fuck.. hmm, just like that, doll.” he sighed, his hand caressing your hair. You purred gently around his cock- slowly bobbing your head up and down on him as your hand stroked the bottom. You felt the need for his cum down your throat, you wanted to feel him all over- you needed him all over. His cheeks grew redder and redder by the second, his lips dark and a deep red from biting them. His hand pushed down your head slowly, almost as if he asked for permission which you gladly granted as you took him in deeper, faster. 

“God… you’re so perfect.” He breathed out as he began thrusting his hips into your mouth, needing you deeper. “I’m close.. God.. take me, baby… show me how much you want it..” He breathed out, his thigh twitching. You could feel him pulsating in your mouth, practically down your throat at this point. You could feel him about to release- giving you what you’ve wanted for so long… 

Interrupted by a knock. Fuck. 

He gasped, his eyes growing big as he let go of your head, placing his hands on his desk. He looked at you for an answer, what the hell do I do? His eyes spoke as another knock interrupted his thoughts. You kept your mouth wrapped around him as he cleared his throat, his mind doing flips as the anticipation of who was at the door grew around the room, making his office feel tense. You didn’t want to stop, you needed him, the pool in your panties caused by him needed him, too. 

“C’mon asshole, I know you’re in there.” The voice spoke through the wooden door. You saw the way Josh mouthed ‘fuck’ and looked down at you quickly, shooting you an apologetic look before clearing his throat once again. 

“Yeah?” He spoke loudly. He rolled his chair closer to his desk, trying to keep you hidden, needing you all to himself, and also not wanting anyone to notice his whole cock in your mouth. You heard the door open loudly and you closed your eyes, his cock still pulsating in your mouth as you felt his breathing shift. 

“Midterms are killing me.” The voice spoke, you heard the person sit down behind you, the chair facing Josh’s desk. You began bobbing your head up and down- which made Josh choke on his words for a split second. 

“Yeah.. me too.. Now’s not really a good time, Jake. I-” He tried to cover up a groan with a cough as you swiped your tongue against his length, your hand finding his balls and massaging them a little. Being hidden under the desk like this was so sexy to you, being Josh’s dirty little secret- it fueled you, it made you want to be bad. “I have like thirty essays to grade by myself” Josh spoke. You felt grateful that his desk reached all the way to the floor, no one would be able to see you except him. You lowered your head until his head reached the back of your throat, massaging him a little heavier now. You saw the way his breathing became heavy and how his hand gripped the armrest on his chair. 

“Hm, yeah you do look pretty.. Stressed I guess. Listen, come over for dinner- I’ll help you grade them.” The person spoke, which you assumed was Jake. That didn’t stop you, you needed Josh and you wanted to make him feel good no matter who was there. You swallowed around his tip which made Josh have a vocal reaction, which he tried covering up with a cough again. 

“Yeah.. mhm good idea. See you later, Jake.” Josh spoke quickly and Jake chuckled and left the room, closing the door behind him. With the security of being alone with you, Josh backed up his chair with his eyebrows raised, a smirk on his face. 

“You… you’re fucking naughty, edging me like that. Are you a nasty, dirty girl, hm?” He spoke, wrapping his fingers in your hair and pulling you up. “Are you my little cumslut? Hm? All that just so you can feel me all full inside you? Well I’ll show you full, sweet girl.” He groaned, pushing you over his desk and pulling your leggings and underwear down. 

“Fucking soaked. Just how I expected.” He said, a smug expression in his tone. You could hear him lower his pants more, and then feel his warm tip rub against you, your juices coating him instantly. He pushed himself inside you slowly, pressing his body against yours, pressing you down on his desk. “Feel me now? Hm?” He groaned in your ear, his voice low and dominant. 

“Feel how fucking hard you’ve made me, princess, let my cock show you how happy you made it.” He spoke before pulling away and placing his hands on your hips, thrusting his against yours at a fast pace. You knew he was close, and so were you- squeezing around him, showing him how much you needed his cum. 

“Fuck.. ‘m gonna fill you up, god.. Baby, you did so good.. Such a good girl.” He breathed out, thrusting faster, pulling you over the edge with him as he crumbled over you, shuddering breaths against your neck as his cum coated your walls, his hands still on your hips squeezing them tight. 

The room filled with the sounds of your heavy breaths as Josh pulled out slowly, sitting back down on his chair and grabbing a tissue- cleaning you up gently. He pulled up your leggings and underwear before fixing himself, sitting you down on his lap. 

“Thank you. I really needed that.. I’ve been so stressed with homework today.” He sighed, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. “Can we do something tonight? After my dinner..” He asked softly with a gentle smile, his brown eyes looking up at you as his hand caressed your hip gently, right over the spot where he was squeezing not long ago. You nodded shyly and looked down at him with a small smile. 

“Yeah? You’d like that?” he cooed, you nodded while his thumb caressed your face before leaning in and leaving a soft ‘bye’ kiss on your lips, before you got up and grabbed your schoolbag. 

“See you later, professor.” You spoke, turning back to him before opening the door and walking out. You kept a smile on your face as you could still feel him leaking out, a part of him still with you. 

“That’s an interesting way to get extra credit.” You heard before placing your earphone in your ear. You snapped your head back to be met with a brown eyed man. He had soft features, like Josh. The same nose, same heart shaped lips. This must be Jake. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You responded dryly, trying to hide your nervousness. 

“Hmm, I was just in that room and he was alone. Yet I just saw you exit from the same door I did.” He said, a smirk on his face. 

“I must've came in after you, then.” You replied, your heartbeat steady in your throat. 

“I’ve been sitting out here on this bench reading through my notes waiting for Professor Kiszka to come out of his office, I would have seen you pass by.” He spoke. He was an attractive man, no wonder he was related to Josh. He wore a nice maroon suit, black shoes, his hair was long and wavy but kept clean and styled. He seemed really organized, much more than Josh. 

“You must’ve just not seen me.. I tend to blend in with the background most of the time..” You spoke, hoping he’d drop it. 

“Hm. Okay, then. Carry on.” He spoke, smiling softly with a smirk hidden behind the soft smile, his eyes looking back down at his notes as you quickly walked away.

Fuuuck. Did I just get caught?

{Taglist :

@joshsbadussy @alyson814 @ageoffleet @Ashabeannn @schleeble @kennygvf @brokenbe11s  @gretavansteph @l0vep0ti0ns @welllauragvf @misshunnybee @succeedingsigns @myfavfics01 @whorefourjakekiszka @not-a-hypochondriac @myleftsock @leedleleedlelee003 @beth-gvf @jordie-gvf-admin @joshkiszkas @oksydneyy @weightofstar @flo-gvf @myownparadise96 @indigokiszka @spark-my-nature @stardustofman @malany-gvf @carbonwrittingthroughtime @groupiegirlie08 @fwzco @nicoleghost18 @andromeda-raine-gvf @sarrrahhh @ren-ni @otherworldlyautumn @Timeless—classics @zoe-tally06 @hippievanfleet @hellowgoodbye @aminaalilyy @gvfcinema @joshpaperscissors @dammittjanet @enchante-em @austinbrry @meetingthestarcatchers @Samkiszkaspinkietoe @spinthehemmo @stonecoldmo @fitalich @justcarsonngvf @tearsofjakey @thetroublegetssoloud71 @lexii-nv-c @bailey747 @streamofgvf }

[asirensrage]

Mise en Place - A "choose your own adventure" style fic - Part 3

Fandom: Punisher AU Rating: Mature Pairing: Billy Russo x OC Warnings: Dark!Fic, threats, murder, obsession, swearing, violence, blood, and likely more to be added... Summary: Nadine thought her biggest problem was helping to keep the restaurant she worked at afloat as the neighbourhood starts being bought out from under them. A chance meeting in an elevator with an old fling proves differently…

Notes: There's a lot of violence in this chapter. Heed the warnings. The last vote was a tie so I made the final call. Nadine...uses her knives to defend herself.

Part 1 / Part 2 /

Previously: “What are you doing in my house?” “Waiting for you, Nadine.” He grins and steps forward…. 

She doesn’t have a lot of options. The door is locked behind her and if she wants to open it, she would need to turn her back on him. She already knows that’s a bad idea.

“Me? Do we know each other?”

“We will,” he says. Her hand moves to her side, drawing out the wrapped cloth bundle from her tote. She grabs the handle that sticks out first. It’s her boning knife. It sits in her hand like an extension of herself. She drops the bundle back in the tote and puts it on the ground before kicking it out of the way. 

The man looks at it and laughs. With its long thin blade, it doesn’t look like much but she’s used it a thousand times taking apart different animals in her work. It’s familiar in a way that he isn’t. 

“Do you even know what to do with that, girl?” 

She shifts it in her hand, trying not to let the comment rankle. It shouldn’t surprise her. Many don’t know what it takes to reach her skill. She ignores the desire to snap back. He’s large and threatening and she reminds herself that he’s just another animal. She’s broken down many, dozens of times before. She’s not going to make this easy for him. Whatever he succeeds in taking from her will cost him.

“You’re a chef,” he says, trying to antagonize her. “What are you going to do? Mince me?” 

She shifts her weight, setting one foot slightly behind her. It seems to amuse him further. Nadine’s not stupid. She’s a single woman in the city and has always been seen as an easier target due to her size. She’s taken self-defence classes throughout her years at school. He knows her name. She wonders what else he knows about her. 

He lunges forward. 

She pivots on her heel, knife sliding against flesh as she moves out of his way. Blood splatters against the floor as he swears, his hand pressing against the sudden wound.

“Bitch!” 

She simply turns to face him. She can hear her instructor’s voice in her head: make good cuts, let the knife do the work. She’s not using a saw and should avoid the joints but there are other places to cut, ones that will maximize the damage she can do in the time she has to ensure he cannot attack. Tendons and large muscle groups, kidneys and liver. 

He strikes again. He’s not trying to get ahold of her, or do any serious damage.  It’s like he’s playing with her to draw this out. Fucker.

She doesn’t manage to avoid him this time, getting the breath knocked out of her sharply as she’s shoved back into the side table by her couch. She nearly goes toppling over it. She forces herself to breathe through the pain. Focus, she can practically hear her instructor say. Think about the step you’re on, not what comes next. The memory is burned into her from the repetition. 

She darts forward, ducking under his swing and swipes her knife up. It slides into the soft flesh of his armpit and she can feel it scrape across bone before she pulls it out. The man screams. 

It doesn’t stop him though and he uses the moment she needs to retrieve her knife to grab her hair. He yanks it back, taking her with it. She swings the knife down and away from her, catching him on the leg. It slips across and down his inner thigh. He lets go of her hair as he tries to put pressure on the wound. She scrambles back, kicking out and catching him hard in the knee. He falls as she gets to her feet, struggling to catch her breath as she watches the man curse, trying to pull himself away from her. 

How long until he bleeds out? She hit an artery based on the amount of blood that’s spreading around him. She’s never going to get her security deposit back now. She laughs a little, wondering if she might be in shock. Her head is swimming. She’s definitely bruised from where she hit that table. 

He’s still moaning. She’s never actually had to watch something die before. The animals she worked with were always dead first. Maybe she should call an ambulance…It would be easy, she thinks, to even disassemble the body herself but transporting it would be a pain and she still has no clue why he was here or if he was working alone. 

Either way, she needs help.

Where is her phone?

mise en place tag: @muchadoaboutcj @koiwrites @chrissymunson  @nageill

general tag: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @endless-oc-creations  @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares @chrissymunson

Billy Russo tag: @wheresthesunshinesblog

[drogba-prospect]

Kitchen Hierarchy Explained: Different Jobs in the Brigade de Cuisine - Escoffier

THE HISTORY OF MISE EN PLACE AND JUMP TO LANGUAGE PT 1. 

While mise en place is now ingrained in kitchens across the world, this wasn’t always the case. Near the middle of the 19th century, Auguste Escoffier, a former soldier, entered the culinary world. As he advanced through kitchens, he used his experience with strict military systems and clear rules to develop the mise en place system.

At first, not everyone agreed with Escoffier’s rigid organizational methods. However, once they saw how mise en place helped with kitchen workflow, these previous naysayers adopted the practice. Today, this technique is one of the foundations of any functioning kitchen.

In French, mise en place means “putting in place.” We’ve discussed using this strategy or philosophy to apply it to your morning routine and prepping your work area, but you can take it even further. When you set aside all the things you need to get out the door in the morning, that’s mise en place. When you follow an evening routine with your kids (e.g., bath, books, bed), that’s mise en place too. When you open a select set of browser tabs and apps that you need to work on—sans distracting sites—yup, mise en place.

Chef de Cuisine: Sometimes called the head chef, a chef de cuisine is responsible for day-to-day kitchen management. Depending on the size of the business, they may be at the top of the kitchen hierarchy and report directly to the restaurant manager or owner. They have a largely supervisory role, ensuring the kitchen operates smoothly and taking the lead on creating menus.

Chef de partie: A chef de partie will be in charge of one particular station. While they should be equipped to work in any area if need by, a chef de partie will generally oversee a single area of production, and may be titled accordingly. For example, they may be referred to as the saucier (sauce), entremetier (entrees) or patissier (pastries/desserts).

The goals of liberal arts education are not those of vocational and professional training. They are often viewed as pre-professional since, while conceived of as fundamental to citizenship, they address the whole person in recognition that our moral and spiritual identities develop best through participation in a society that perpetually renews the rights and responsibilities of membership.

https://youtu.be/7_ldJMHjbPA?si=Ji5l-cnNEJRXxfub

HEDONISTIC HUNGER GASTRONOMY AS A LANGUAGE PT. 2

The Organisation internationale de la Francophonie (OIF; sometimes shortened to the Francophonie, French: La Francophonie [la fʁɑ̃kɔfɔni],[3][note 3] sometimes also called International Organisation of La Francophonie in English[4]) is an international organization representing countries and regions where French is a lingua franca or customary language, where a significant proportion of the population are francophones (French speakers), or where there is a notable affiliation with French culture. Culinary linguistics, a sub-branch of applied linguistics, is the study of food and language across various interdisciplinary fields such as linguistic, anthropology, sociolinguistics, and consumption politics and globalisation.[1] (Fon and Igbo)

Bariatric surgery (or metabolic surgery or weight loss surgery) is a medical term for surgical procedures used to manage obesity and obesity-related conditions.[1][2] Long term weight loss with bariatric surgery may be achieved through alteration of gut hormones, physical reduction of stomach size, reduction of nutrient absorption, or a combination of these.[2][3] Standard of care procedures include Roux en-Y bypass, sleeve gastrectomy, and biliopancreatic diversion with duodenal switch, from which weight loss is largely achieved by altering gut hormone levels responsible for hunger and satiety, leading to a new hormonal weight set point.[3] Bariatric surgery of various types may influence hedonic hunger[31][32][33] particularly if accompanied by counseling interventions that reduce automatic hedonic impulses.[34] These surgeries may work in part by modifying the production of gastrointestinal hormones, particularly by increasing glucagon-like peptide-1 and peptide YY (PYY);[31][35] reduction of ghrelin has been inconsistent.[31]

Liberal arts education (from Latin liberalis 'free' and ars 'art or principled practice')[1] is the traditional academic course in Western higher education.[2] Liberal arts takes the term art in the sense of a learned skill rather than specifically the fine arts. Liberal arts education can refer to studies in a liberal arts degree course or to a university education more generally. Such a course of study contrasts with those that are principally vocational, professional, or technical, as well as religiously based courses. The goals of liberal arts education are not those of vocational and professional training. They are often viewed as pre-professional since, while conceived of as fundamental to citizenship, they address the whole person in recognition that our moral and spiritual identities develop best through participation in a society that perpetually renews the rights and responsibilities of membership.

Together with the Archangels, Principalities are in close and continuous contact with men, designating and choosing individuals suitable for governing, administering and fostering trade and military affairs. Every region, province, nation, city or village has its own Principality. While still absolutely pure, wise, and powerful, these angels are furthest from God in the angelic hierarchy, and so are better able to communicate with man in ways we can understand and even withstand.

Their duty also is said to be to carry out the orders given to them by the angels of the upper sphere and bequeath blessings to the material world. Their task is to oversee groups of people. It was from this Order that the Angel who aided David in his task of slaying Goliath was thought to have come. As beings related to the world of the germinal ideas, they are said to inspire living things to many things such as art or science.

Material religion is a framework used by scholars of religion to examine the interaction between religion and material culture. It focuses on the place of objects, images, spaces, and buildings in religious communities. The framework has been promoted by scholars such as Birgit Meyer, Sally Promey, S. Brent Plate, David Morgan, etc.

Mise en Place as a Language Arts

Mutton and Dairy Husbandry 

Blue Economy 

Liberal Arts Hedonistic Arts and Science & Technology for Pleasure Paradox (Gastronomy and Nutritional Biochemistry with Agriculture Technology)

Smear Ripened and Fromage Triple Créme

Competitive Cooking Gambling

Cooking Shows as Leagues

Noun and Verb Groups

Gastronomy Trends Marketing Teams

Bocuse d’Or as Organization 

Habitant Conservation Film Festival 

Restaurant Clientel Grocery Stores

Cook Book based Libraries

Bocuse d’Or Qualifiers 

Agriculture Festivals (Wool - Coffee)

Celebrity Chef Sporting Event Gastronomy 

Nutritional Biochemistry Learning Show

Farmland Stock Simulators

Agronomics School

Rambouillet FX Listing Pegs: Copper & Gold; Agriculture Central Hedge Fund, Mining Unions, Peninsula Agronomique Engineering, Commodities Options Exchange (Credit Spread Options, Farm REITs, Crop Production; Fertelizers and Seeds; Equipment; Distribution and Processing Stocks, Ag ETFs and ETNs, Ag Mutual Funds), Tableau Économiques, Investments Farms REITs, Scallops Mollusk Razor-Razorblade Model Port Economics, Art Financing Bon Vivant.

Artisanal Plantation Case Study: Rental Properties, Rental Farmland Plantation Economy, AG Indexes w/ FX CFDs, Gold Bars, Garunteed Investment Certificate are my Net Asset Portfolio.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Larousse_Gastronomique

CORSI

[paperultra]

mise en rose.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 3,806 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

The tune that your father used to whistle now leaves your lips the same way it left his.

Notes skip offkey across the water as your boat rocks gently, waves lapping up against the wooden sides. The moon shines brightly overhead. You shift in place and wait for a tug on your fishing line, the basket at your feet waiting patiently for its first meal.

Archy will be happy if you actually catch something for once. There’s not a lot of fish around here, and you’re not exactly sure why; something about the aquatic plants in the area, or if you were to believe the old man in the village square, a curse that swallows anything with fins that swims too close. The last time you caught something was months ago, and it was tiny and more bone than flesh.

You don’t really care. It’s enough to just sit out here and feel the waves.

Cheeks puffing up with air for another round of music, you let your gaze drift out towards the ocean and abruptly freeze.

There’s something floating in the distance.

A piece of debris. Wood from a hull, a scrap of sail perhaps?

The thought that it may be the remnant of a ship destroyed at sea is enough for you to reel in your line and start rowing towards it, anticipation bubbling up and drowning out any thoughts of a midnight snack.

You get close enough and your anticipation gives way to shock.

“Oh, shit.”

The guy clinging to the chunk of wood stirs and lifts his head, and you almost hit him upside the head with your oar.

“Oh, shit. You’re alive.”

—

“You say you’re going out fishing and you come back with a half-dead man with three swords?” Archy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but this time, you don’t blame him. This is certainly uncharted territory and your older brother is hopeless without a map. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What was I supposed to do, leave him to die?”

“I dunno! Yeah!” he gestures to the waterlogged man lying halfway on the living room couch, one arm and leg hanging off the side. “Look at him. He’s probably a pirate!”

“Damn, you think?” Crouching down, you drag your eyes across Swordsman’s ragged clothing and grin. You might’ve just rescued someone with a bounty on his head. “That’d be so cool.”

“That would not be cool.”

You shrug. “Well, I brought him in already, so you might as well help me unless you want a dead body in our living room.”

“You little –” Taking a deep breath, Archy pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long, loud groan, and you know that you’ve won once more. “Fine. But as soon as he’s even a little bit better, we’re calling the Marines.”

“Okay,” you agree amicably. “So, what do we do first?”

“We have to undress him and warm him up.”

“Got it.” Your eager fingers go straight for the swords.

The man comes to life without warning. Seizing your wrist, he cracks one eye open and speaks in a low and rasping voice.

“Don’t. Touch. My swords.”

“Uh,” you say.

“We got to get everything off, mate,” Archy grumbles, and your guest turns his glare onto your brother. “I know how to clean swords and scabbards. I’ll dry them off and put them under the couch afterward.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

With a grunt, Swordsman pushes you away and attempts to sit up. He struggles for a full minute, jaw clenched and muscles trembling; his arms, strong and sturdy as they are, look like they’ll buckle at any moment.

Your eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling when he actually manages to prop himself up.

“Well, that’s impressive,” you mutter, making eye contact with Archy. He rolls his eyes. “Can you remove your clothes and wrap yourself up too?”

It takes a few moments before Swordsman has enough breath to respond. “I’m fine,” he says once he can.

“You’re really not,” Archy replies.

“You’re probably really dehydrated,” you say. “How long were you out there?”

The man stares at you, opens his mouth, pauses.

“Three days. Maybe.”

You gape. “You spent three days floating in the East Blue and you’re not dead?” You look at his neck for gills. “Are you a fishman or something?”

“No.”

“Really? I mean, I never met any fishmen before, so …”

His eye twitches. “I’m not a fishman.”

“Well, okay, if you say so.”

What a weird guy. Then again, you’ve heard that all sorts of characters traverse the Blue Sea. Devil fruit users, talking animals, clowns. A person who can survive the ocean for a couple days on a piece of wood is hardly out of the question.

“You’re dehydrated, in any case,” you conclude. “I’ll get you some water.”

—

After gruffly accepting a glass of water and putting on some dry clothes, Swordsman proceeds to “sleep it off” for the next twenty-four hours. When he finally wakes up, it’s in the middle of the night and you’ve just started rereading your favorite book.

“Oh, he’s awake,” you say when he stirs, swinging your feet off the coffee table and leaning forward in your chair to observe.

He grimaces under the dim light of your lamp, lifting an arm to press it over his eyes. “How long was I out,” he grouses.

“’Bout a day.”

“Shit.” He wriggles around in the fuzzy blanket you’ve wrapped around him. Once he’s loosened its hold enough, he sits up slowly and looks around, expression equal parts drowsy and wary. “Where –”

“Archy took your swords and cleaned them. They’re under the couch.”

“I told you not to touch them.”

“I didn’t. My brother did.”

Casting you the most unamused glare, Swordsman bends over to look underneath the couch. He pulls his swords out and places them in his lap, inspecting the white one first with a care that makes you rest your chin in your hand, curious and charmed. His brow furrows and you know that he finds your brother’s work to be satisfactory when he moves on to inspect the other two.

“Our uncle was a bladesmith in Loguetown. He taught Archy a thing or two before he passed.”

“You’re bladesmiths?”

“Coopers. Uncle was the rebel, I guess.” You close your book and stand up. “There’s leftover soup in the fridge. I’ll heat up the broth for you.”

This time, the man does not refuse your help and only nods. As you head to the kitchen and start to reheat the soup, you glance over and catch him sipping from the glass of water you’d topped off while he was asleep. Somehow, even that small action intrigues you. You smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ladling the steaming broth into a small bowl, you stick a spoon in and walk back to where Swordsman is, sitting beside him. “Here you go. Don’t drink it too fast, and all that.”

He takes the soup, blows on a spoonful, tastes it. His eyes close, and something funny happens in your stomach when he opens them again to look at you.

“’S good.”

“Really?” He nods and puts the bowl to his lips to drink directly from it. “Thanks.”

You let him finish the miso broth in silence. It gives you time to stare at him some more; even with the horrible sunburn and petroleum jelly smeared everywhere, he’s a very handsome man, that much you can tell, with broad shoulders and a pretty face and hair as green as forest moss. The three earrings on his left ear gleam gold and sway with every movement he makes.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna ask me questions?”

“Hm? Oh!” Shaking your head in slight bewilderment, you smile. “Yeah, I guess it would be good to ask some questions … so, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Roronoa Zoro.”

You tilt your head with a frown. “Roronoa Zoro.” You taste the name in your mouth. “That sounds really familiar. Are you a pirate?”

“No. I hunt them.”

“You hunt them?”

“That’s what I said.”

You look at his swords again. His earrings. Three and three.

Shooting up from the couch, you dash to Archy’s room and slam the door open.

“Archimead! Wake up!” You grab your brother’s shoulders and rattle him.

“Shit – what?!” he gargles, pushing your face away with one meaty hand and sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What?”

“The guy in our living room,” you shriek at him, practically shaking, “is the Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. I fished Roronoa Zoro out of the fucking ocean.”

Archy stops rubbing his eye. “What.”

Soon enough, Zoro faces both you and your brother in the living room once more.

“You’re Roronoa Zoro? For real?” Archy asks him.

Zoro blinks up him. “Yeah.”

“Can you prove it?”

“‘Can you prove it’ – Archy, look at him. He’s got three earrings in his left ear and three fucking swords.”

“He could be some sort of copycat. We have no idea what Roronoa Zoro actually looks like.”

“You’re such a pessimist. Nobody would lug around three swords if they couldn’t use all of them at once.” You turn your attention back onto Zoro. “How the hell did you get stranded out there?”

He looks between the two of you, waiting for a moment before crossing his arms. “I was headed to Mirror Ball Island, but the boat I was on got caught in a whirlpool,” he says, displeased. “Then I got separated from the rest of the crew. Don’t know if they survived or not.”

“Mirror Ball Island?” you repeat. “That’s a three-day journey from here, at least.”

“Where’s here?”

“Dokusha Village.” You open one of the books on the table and point to a tiny strip of coast you’d labeled on the edge of the East Blue map. “Right there. You could buy a boat and sail west, straight to Mirror Ball Island.”

“I don’t have any beri on me right now,” Zoro says.

“Oh, yeah. Of course you don’t.” Archy puts his hands on his hips. “Well, the merchant ship is coming by in two weeks. If you’re all good by then, you can hitch a ride.”

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night.”

You snort, closing the book and reclining back. “The rate you’re going, I don’t doubt it. Does that mean you want to leave earlier? You’ll still need a boat and supplies. Food, water, towels, sleeping gear. That all costs money. I mean, we could lend you some, but still.”

“I’ll work for it,” Zoro replies. “I don’t take and give nothing in return.”

Both you and Archy give a hum of approval.

—

True to his word, Roronoa Zoro is up and off the couch by the fourth day.

He doesn’t have a clue as to how to make barrels or buckets, which is expected, so he ends up helping with the grunt work of carrying staves into the workshop and stacking finished barrels. Other than that, there’s not much for him to do.

“Sorry if it’s boring,” you apologize during lunch, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. “You’re kind of just hired muscle.”

Zoro shrugs, chewing on his own sandwich. Two girls walking by – Phoebe and Iris, the blacksmith’s daughters – spot him on the bench and giggle, hurrying past with glances over their shoulders. He appears not to care. “It’s fine.”

“I think you’re even stronger than my brother. Is it because of your training as a swordsman?”

“Probably,” he says.

“When did you start?”

“When I was eight.”

You nod sagely. “Not surprised. I’ve been helping around the workshop since I was a kid, and I only just finished my apprenticeship a few weeks ago. It’s good to start young.”

It seems that Zoro agrees by the way he grunts, stuffing the last piece of crust into his mouth.

When he’s done, you muster the courage to ask, “What’s it like, being a bounty hunter?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow at you. Then he gazes back out at the street. “It’s fine,” he responds. “Makes good money.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Yeah, but, like, is it fun? Do you spend a lot of time at sea? See a lot of different places? Stuff like that.”

“I don’t do it for fun. My only goal is to become the world’s greatest swordsman.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “It’s a shitton of traveling, both on ships and on land. I’ve been all over the East Blue.”

“Wow.” The word comes out as a sigh. You crunch longingly on a carrot stick. “That sounds amazing. It’s my dream to travel all over the world on a ship.”

“How come you’re here, then?”

You wince, hushing him hastily. Glancing behind you, you clear your throat and lean in to speak softly. “Archy hates the ocean. He worked on a merchant ship for a few months when he was eighteen and got super sick.” Upon reading Zoro’s blank expression, you clarify, “I can’t just leave him. I’m the only family he’s got now, and his younger sibling to boot. So Dokusha Village it is.”

“You’re staying because of your brother.”

“Yeah. I love him, so it’s fine.” There’s a familiar ache in your chest, but you push it down and elbow Zoro’s ribs in jest. (He doesn’t even move a muscle. Geez.) “Makes okay money. I got a bunch of adventure books to live through, anyway.”

It’s a little hard to meet your lunch companion’s eyes after that. You eat the rest of your carrots in silence, pretending to be occupied with finishing them. Zoro doesn’t utter another word.

But as the two of you get back to work, he seems a little warmer, a little less stiff. You make a silly joke and Zoro huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh while Archy threatens to stick you in a rum barrel and roll you down a hill.

Perhaps you’ve made another friend.

—

“What are you making?”

You blow off the wood dust, closing one eye to cut a fin just right. “Shark. See?”

The bonfire you’d made crackles just a few feet away as you place the half-finished carving into Zoro’s palm. He picks it up with his other hand and twists it around, touching with intention, and you almost feel self-conscious with the way he’s examining it.

“Nice,” he finally says, and the praise makes you giddy. He hands the shark back to you.

“Thanks. I had a lot of practice.”

Zoro rests his elbows on the rock behind him and takes another swig of sake. You resume carving the shark’s fins, bare feet buried in the cool sand.

Archy’s on a date for once, so he left the two of you to your own devices for the night with a distracted wave goodbye and a warning that he’ll be back late. You took that as a chance to break into the alcohol after supper and drag Zoro down to the beach. The swordsman was willing to come along, though you suspect it was mostly for the sake.

“Ain’t that your third bottle?”

“I can hold my liquor.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No need to brag.”

He wipes his mouth, dark brown eyes black in the firelight. They glint like steel when he looks over at you, but he doesn’t say anything – not that you’re surprised; sometimes Zoro just looks at whatever he wants without any reason. He’s not particularly complicated in that sense.

(You like that. Too many things in life are complicated.)

“Hey, Zoro.”

“Hm.”

Your lips purse. “Do you think my brother will get married one day?”

“How am I supposed to know?” His tone is flat.

“Well, I dunno! It’s just a question.” You frown, slowing in your work. “It’s just that after our parents died, he’s been too busy looking after me and the shop to court someone. He’s turning thirty next year and most people his age have settled down already. I feel kind of bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zoro says. “Wouldn’t he have more time now, anyway, since you can take care of yourself?”

“I think he’s been out for so long he doesn’t know how to date anymore.”

Zoro downs the rest of his sake. You know that there’s no advice he can give you regarding Archy’s marriage prospects, which doesn’t surprise you either. You suppose you just need someone to listen. It’s not like you can talk to Archy about it.

“Hell,” you remember, “I’m expected to be married by now, too. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Really?”

“Nope. Why, are you surprised?”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Zoro yawns and closes his eyes. “You just seem like the type.”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk a lot,” he says.

You burst out laughing. “Yeah, I do. Would that make me a good date?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been on one, either?”

Zoro shrugs. He doesn’t look too torn up about it. “Waste of time,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “Figured you’d say that,” you drawl, digging your blade into the shark’s mouth. “Dating doesn’t really help you become the world’s greatest swordsman, does it?”

“Nope.”

“I still think it might be fun, though. If you’re with the right person.” With that, you brush away the last curl of wood from your carving. After admiring it for a few seconds, you offer the shark to Zoro, bumping the nose softly against his cheek. He opens his eyes and turns his head to squint at it. “Here you go. All yours.”

His brow furrows as he takes it.

“It’s a going away gift. Since you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say. Folding your knife and putting it down beside you, you grab your bottle of sake and gulp down half of what remains. “Don’t forget it.”

One of the logs in the bonfire crumbles, falling into the coals. Orange sparks fly up into the smoke and disappear just as quickly. You poke at the fire with a stick, trying not to think about how sad you’re going to be tomorrow morning.

“I won’t forget,” Zoro says.

“I know.”

—

It’s almost dawn, and the family boat is packed up and ready to set sail.

“Got everything?” Archy asks, lowering into a squat to scan over all the supplies.

“Yeah.” The swordsman drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks again for the boat.”

“It’s nothing.” Your brother elbows your arm, and you sway. “Oi. He said thank you.”

“I know,” you mumble. For the first time this morning, you spare Zoro a glance and smile at him, but it’s shaky and fake and you really hate how your voice wobbles when you say, “You don’t have to thank us. Just have a safe – have a safe –” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your feet, eyes burning. “Have a safe trip,” you finish quietly.

You can feel two pairs of eyes on you as your vision goes blurry. Shit. This is so embarrassing.

The fact of the matter is that Roronoa Zoro has been in Dokusha Village for only a week, and you’re already missing him like he’s been in your life for years. You’re going to watch him get into your family’s fishing boat and sail away, the wind at his back, the East Blue before him, and you will remain on the dock with your big brother beside you and your dream in your head.

You’re being selfish, but it’s not … it’s not fair.

Archy puts his hand on your shoulder and says your name.

You wipe your nose. “What?”

“… I’ve been thinking.” He sounds hesitant, taking in a deep breath and letting it go slowly, carefully. “You’ve always wanted to travel the world on a ship.”

It’s like the world tilts on its axis.

Rigidly, you look up at your brother, eyes wide.

“I’m not dumb, you know. You’ve only stayed here because of me,” Archy says. “I’m the one who’s supposed to look after you and protect you. But you’ve been able to do that for yourself for a while, now. Right?”

“Archy.” You swallow. “What are you …?”

“I talked with Zoro last night. He’s willing to take you to Mirror Ball Island, if you want.” His smile is crooked, but it trembles at the corners as he continues. “You know how to sail, how to navigate. We’ll just have to add some extra stuff to the boat.”

You can barely breathe.

“There’s plenty of merchant ships there,” Zoro adds, leaning on his sword. “Your skills are valuable. Just be willing to pull your own weight, and they’ll take you on board. If not, I’ll tell them to.”

“You don’t have to –” Now you’re full-on bawling. You throw your arms around Archy, who wraps you in a bear hug, and then around Zoro, who stiffens. “Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you.”

“No problem,” Zoro mumbles, patting you on the back. When you let go to beam at him, he averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. “Just hurry up.”

Nodding, you dash back up to your house, Archy following close behind. You grab your bag, throw what you need into it, snatch your hat from your bedpost. Less than twenty minutes pass before you’re all ready to go.

“Got everything?” Archy asks once more at the dock. You nod and look at Zoro, who nods as well. “All right.”

You hug Archy for the last time. Tears spill over and down your cheeks. “Thank you for everything, big bro. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kid.” His voice is rough and trembly, muffled against your head. “Come back to visit sometime, okay?”

“Okay.”

Getting into the boat with Zoro, you help him check the rigging and hoist the sail. Archy unties the vessel and pushes the two of you off. As you float away, he waves, and you wave back, staring as he gets smaller and smaller.

“I’m not turning back,” Zoro tells you as you eventually settle in your seat. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Is it?

You cast one last glance back at Dokusha Village, at the small point of your brother. Then you look out at the broad expanse of the ocean. And you feel many things – joy, sadness, apprehension – but above all that, you feel –

Free.

“Yes,” you say firmly. You push your hat down and smile at Zoro, and this time, it’s genuine. “It is.”

Zoro smiles back. And as the sun begins to warm your face, you whistle your father’s song and think about the journey to come.

[anachronismstellar]

Wip Wednesday: IAAP: CH6

Let's goooo guys! My requests for IAAP: CH6. This one is a hard one (Sanji's past is a whole ass trigger warning for itself) but anyway-

TW: Canon starvation, Canon child abuse, panic attacks

Thank you for the requests: @zyrafowe-sny @eriquin @auburnlaughter @adhdavinci @trappedinmymind @stonemaskedtaliesin @kidsomeday

I'm going to put this one under the read more just to be safe!

Zoro was drowning.  The trapped air tried to escape his throat as water made home in his lungs, salt mixing with copper. He couldn't make sense of up and down on the treacherous sea, body sinking like a stone no matter how much he forced his legs to move. He was drowning but he couldn't make himself move, he could only wait for- there- A big hand grabbed him, pulling him from the water, dragging him away from the waves. And this time he didn't have to do much to grab the rock, holding with all his strength so the waves didn’t carry him back.  He knew that it wasn't him that was fighting death. Ok, he knew this now. But it wasn't his fault that Cook's memories were so disconnected that he could barely follow.  In a blink the sun was scalding his head, the dull knife on his hand laughing at Zoro as Curly watched Red Leg's back, frozen on the spot. “Go away, little aubergine.” Then again Red Leg's back was turned to him, this time however they were in a nice kitchen, the monster on his belly asleep for now. “I'm telling you, old man! I know that I can do it!” “You can't even season your food! Go away from my kitchen before I send you to your room!” He turned around, running full speed towards the door, crossing it, only to come back to the kitchen once more, this time taller, stronger. “Move old man, it’s my turn to prepare the mise en place!” “Over my dead body!” Cook threw a kick, without holding back his strength, but Red Leg blocked at the last second, both falling into a fight that was getting too serious too fast. Again, Zoro knew that it was coming, still he couldn’t move fast enough, Zeff’s powerful kick hitting him right in the head, making Zoro black out and then- He was crying. The place was so dark he couldn’t see properly, but he knew he was in a cell, his back against the wall, a clunky mask over his face, making it hard to lift his head. He was crying and he was so small- he felt like his wrists would snap at any moment,  and again that whole on his stomach, a monster that kept gnawing and gnawing his belly- holy shit why was he so fucking hungry- “You just need to do as he says, why do you never do as he says?”

Zoro turned to look at the girl on the other side of the bars, expecting tears, a reaction, something, but her eyes were empty as if she hadn’t had a soul. “I’m trying-” he sobbed, tears pooling on his cheeks, the salt and the metal irritating the skin, itching like hell.  And all he could do was to pull the mask, the sensation of being slowly smothered by it making hard to breath, he couldn’t breath, he- “Zoro-san?”

I did the whole text because I think it works best with this scene, it's made to be confusing, but if I broke it apart it would look insane dshifhdusf

anyway, thank you again for the requests everyone! <3

and if you got here and want to see more of this, don't hesitate to send me an ask! :D Make me write!

See you next Wip Wednesday!

[astrology-bf]

Causae et Curae

(CW: Death Mention, Implied NSFW, MSQ Spoilers)

Every healer has their signature.

Alphinaud’s is best described as mise en place; only acting once a plan has been devised based on the facts. Krile’s is quick and quiet: over in short order without a bruise or scar to show. Y’shtola’s style is elegant, while Urianger’s process is inscrutable till the last (at which point you might end up cured of aches you didn’t know you had). And as for Alisaie… Perhaps we should move on.

One might not imagine the successor of Shatotto to have any interest in the healing arts, but the Warrior of Light had endeavored to acquire the skill as a function of his studies - his goal was to know everything of magic, after all, not merely those arts useful for destruction. And while the name Ifan Kaleid might in many minds conjure crackles of ianthine levin or a diamond shoal of arcane shields, his signature as a healer (at least by G’raha Tia’s estimation) was his patience and his gentleness.

Ifan took his time. He made sure that whomever he was healing sat or lay in total comfort while he attended to their wounds. A gentle process, if not quick, guided more by intuition than by rote - more like art, than medicine, if G’raha had to put it into words. But what he noticed most was Ifan always hummed quietly to himself whenever he was healing.

Such was the case where they were at present: a room within the Rising Stones where G’raha sat upon a couch, his right arm raised so Ifan could attend it as the latter sat cross-legged facing him. His injury hadn’t been severe; a few gashes gained by leaping in front of his beloved whilst they dealt with recent threats. A small smile was gracing Ifan’s lips, his eyes were softly focused on his work, whilst G’raha’s ears were perked as he tried to pick the tune from Ifan’s voice.       

…dance with souls afire. May ember catch and red-gold spark rise to new heights. May we want for naught coin can buy. Never see wealth’s river dry…

His ears twitched as he identified the hymn. “In the Balance?” asked G’raha.

Ifan’s humming ceased as he raised his head to meet his lover’s gaze. “Hm?” 

G’raha smiled with a little tilt of his head. “I refer to your humming, dear heart.” he explained.

The magician blinked in realization and shook his head with a faint chuckle. “Oh. Ah… Sorry, just a habit.” said Ifan. 

“Not at all, ‘tis a most pleasing ambience for convalescence.” said G’raha as his smile grew to a small contended grin.

Ifan nodded and gave G’raha a fond smile in return. “‘Aye, I have very fond memories of Sister U’zafye humming hymns to the other orphans and I when we were sick. I daresay that’s where I picked it up.” he explained, a wistful note within his voice.

G’raha’s grin grew further. “As said, ‘tis most pleasing. You’ve a lovely voice.” he said, his ears flicking as he gave a little waggle of his head.

“Don’t think buttering me up is going to get you out of a scolding for jumping in front of me like that.” returned the mage, giving the other man a very pointed look.

The former exarch’s expression settled into something rather regal. “I shall be happy to endure as many scoldings as needed to ensure your safety, my beloved champion.” he stated, authoritatively.

Ifan rolled his eyes. “I swear to Thaliak, I’d let you get away with murder.” he chuckled with a small shake of his head as he returned his attention to his task.

A few moments passed in quiet. G’raha’s gaze drifted to his arm - the right. The one he’d sacrificed in solemn service. The one he hadn’t missed until they had renewed affairs back on the First. “'Tis rather strange, I had already resigned myself to the loss of this arm. Now I find myself quite afraid to lose it again.” chuckled G’raha, mirthlessly. 

Ifan glanced up at his lover with a faint frown on his lips, scrutinizing the miqo’te’s features for a moment. “'Raha?” he asked, quietly.

“Hm?” hummed G’raha.

Ifan paused. “You do know that you were enough for me back then, aye?” he asked, gently.

G’raha blinked, one ear flattening quizzically. “To when do you refer?” he asked.

Ifan paused again. “When we were on the First.” he elaborated, equally as gently.

There was yet another pause. Then G’raha chuckled once. “I had forgotten how well you knew my mind.” His ears settled slightly - not lowered, but enough that showed some trouble in his thoughts.

Ifan leaned over to gently bump his forehead against the other man’s. “I’d like to know it a bit better. Gil for your thoughts, my lord?” coaxed Ifan as he leaned back to continue healing, giving G’raha space to speak.

At length, G’raha spoke. “I confess some guilt over how patient you were with me then given my... limitations. Especially as things progressed.” He glanced over to meet Ifan’s gaze with a glint of guilt within his ruby gaze. 

“I was more worried for you than anything, 'Raha.” soothed Ifan, a sympathetic expression on his face. “And we found plenty of ways around it, I was never really wanting.” A gentle smile danced upon his lips, which proved sufficient to salve G’raha back to some level of good humor.

G’raha felt his lips pull into a small smile in response. “I've no doubt, dear heart. But your happiness is paramount to me, and I simply wish to be able to satisfy you.” Then he leaned over to reciprocate the bump between their heads.

Ifan’s smile grew into a grin. “Well, you certainly have never had that problem.” he snickered as his eyes once more lowered to his lover’s arm.

“And I am exceedingly gratified to hear that.” G’raha answered with a smug waggle of his head, followed by a bout of mutual chuckling. Then they sat in quiet again a little while, though G’raha spoke soon after. “On that matter…” he began, slowly. “The thought did occur to me…” The miqo’te trailed off. His ears settled, his lips began to purse, and-

"Don't clench your fist, 'Raha." 

G’raha blinked, then shook his head. "Heh. Sorry. 'Tis difficult to say..." he chuckled with a bashful note within his voice.

Ifan’s eyebrow rose. "In a good way, or a bad way?" he asked with a slight tilting of his head.

"A good way. 'Tis simply embarrassing." answered G’raha with another bashful chuckle as some color tinged his cheeks.

Ifan rolled his eyes. "Pfft, 'embarrassing', he says. This coming from the man that couldn’t even wait for us to leave the Tower before wanting to f-" He found himself cut off by the fingers of the archon’s left hand upon his lips.

"You are the most incorrigible individual I have met in the course of more than a century!" pouted G’raha, his ears and tail slightly bristled.

"I love you too, 'Raha." mumbled Ifan through G’raha’s fingers with a smirk.

G’raha simply couldn’t maintain his indignation. His fingers came away as he chuckled and shook his head. "And I you, Ifan.” Then he mustered up his courage. “I was curious if you would wish to... share our bed. With others."

Ifan blinked. His gaze had lowered back to G’raha’s arm, but now he raised his head and stared directly forward. Then he turned his head to meet his lover’s gaze. "I beg your pardon, 'Raha?" he asked, a faintly incredulous chuckle wisping in his voice.

G’raha’s cheeks quickly matched the color of his hair. He stammered. "As I said, your satisfaction is paramount to me, and I would not wish to deprive-" he found his words silenced with a little kiss.

Ifan gave the other man a gentle smile of fondness as he leaned back to resume his work. "'Raha, I know I have a reputation, but you are more than enough for me." he said. 

"As you are for me, Ifan.” answered G’raha with insistence. Then he let out a little breath. “Perhaps it is also for myself." he admitted.

A snort left Ifan’s nose. “Ah, yes. Old men and their perversions.” he snickered.

G’raha simply stuck his tongue out, and Ifan did the same. 

Then Ifan smirked and gave a nod. "Well, if you are asking if I'm comfortable with it: yes, I am.” he said, giving G’raha another little bump between their foreheads. “Did you have anyone specific in mind?" he asked.

G’raha shook his head. "Not... immediately. We agreed to be honest with one another, and I wished to be so." he stated.

Ifan paused at this. He stared at G’raha for a moment, and simply smiled with feeling surging in his eyes. "And I wish you to know that I thank Menphina for you every day." He leaned over for another little kiss, then leaned back once more to continue with his work. "I will say I am a little curious as to what started this particular train of thought.” he mused.

G’raha paused in turn. He could recall exactly what had begun that train of thought: their meeting with a certain man in Ishgard - specifically, the former Azure Dragoon himself. While G’raha had himself indulged in a little bout of hero worship, everything went quiet as Ifan had approached Estinien. 

They’d stood and stared at one another in tense silence. Ifan’s hands behind his back, Estinien’s arms crossed tight in front. Then the mage had simply circled the dragoon at a slow pace, eyeing him up and down before returning to his front. Then they’d stared again. It was Ifan who spoke first.

“You look well.” Ifan had said with a softness in his eyes but no change in his tone.

“You as well.” replied Estinien. His expression had not changed, but his eyes had faintly crinkled at the corners.

“I’m told I have you to thank for that.” said Ifan. His head was tilted slightly in Estinien’s direction.

“‘Twas simple service.” stated Estinien, a faintly adamant note creeping at the edges of his voice.

“Ah. You still feel you owe me, then?” Ifan had leaned back slightly, head still canted forward so he had to look up through his eyelashes beseechingly.

“Aye.” A strange, declarative finality, but his gaze had softened by another hair.

Ifan had paused. Then he’d smiled and straightened up, stepping forward to close the gap by half a fulm. “Likewise.” he said, fondly.

Estinien had smiled in turn. And G’raha had then realized he’d just witnessed an entirely different conversation than the one within the words that he’d just heard.

G’raha pursed his lips again. “Mrm..."

“”Raha, what did I say about your fist?”

"Estinien and yourself." he forced out.

Ifan blinked again. A little chuckle of a scoff escaped him as he shook his head. “Heh. 'Raha... We don't have that sort of thing." 

G’raha’s ears stilled in surprise. "Oh. I... I apologize for presuming, it simply seemed-"

The magician shook his head, giving G’raha a strained smile. "You aren't wrong, we have been together. Sometimes I also forget that you can read me like writing, yourself." he chuckled, eyes returning to his work.

"I am merely grateful for the chance to study you.” G’raha answered, though the strain on Ifan’s face made his ears lower slightly in concern. “May I ask what you meant by you and he not having that sort of relationship?"

There was a pause. Then Ifan sighed through his nose and nodded. "You never pick the easy questions, hm?"

"Ifan, if it is too painful a subject-" started G’raha.

"None of that. Especially after you've been so honest with your mighty champion, my lord." interrupted Ifan, giving G’raha an admonishingly teasing look. Then he took a breath, then steeled himself, and started speaking. "...We've only... Just the once. The night Haurchefant died." he said, quietly.

G’raha’s ears fell. "I had no notion…” he said, lips parting in surprise at Ifan’s words.

Ifan’s eyes remained focused on his work. “Fairly messed up, hm?" he chuckled mirthlessly.

The miqo’te shook his head and raised his left hand to cup his lover’s cheek. "Not in the slightest, dear heart.” he soothed. “You cannot be expected to act with a clear mind while in pain. No human can."

The magician gave a sad smile and leaned a little into G’raha’s hand before he spoke again. "Honestly, I feel worse for him. He'd never... I was in pain, but so was he. He'd been in pain nearly his whole life. That's why I took that silly wager during the assault on Ishgard. I did want to learn windriding, but I think I really just wanted to get close to him. Be a friend. He let me in, and I repaid him by…” A deep and ragged sigh escaped his chest. “I’d never really felt the need to pray for forgiveness from Menphina before then. Now I just hope she judges me kindly.” he finished as he pursed his lips and sadly shook his head. 

G’raha smoothed a few strands of the hyur’s hair away from his face with his thumb, giving him a gentle smile in turn. "Might I ask if you have spoken of this with him?" he asked, lowering his hand.

Ifan shook his head. "We don't really... Talk like that, necessarily. 'Tis more..." he trailed off as he failed to find the words.

"Body language?" supplied G’raha.

The hyur chuckled softly. "You could say that, aye.” he answered with a nod.

"Well, based on that, how do you think he felt at the time?" asked G’raha with a slight canting of his head and ears.

Ifan paused as he gave the matter thought. "...Worried, I think. His friend was suffering and he didn't know how to help." he said, at length.

G’raha smiled. "I believe he may have, my love." he said, quietly.

"How do you mean?" asked Ifan, glancing up to meet the miqo’te’s gaze.

"Despite what happened, you remained unbroken. And, based on what you have said, I believe that is owed at least in part to Estinien being a comfort to you when you needed it. Nor does he seem to hold any rancor towards you over the matter. He struck me as being quite glad to see you." said G’raha, his tail curling up to rest over one of Ifan’s thighs. 

Ifan gave a little hum, then nodded. "Well, the feeling is mutual. I’m very glad to have him around, I forgot how safe I felt with him watching all the time.” Then he took in a breath, and gave G’raha a smile. “Not that I don't appreciate the way you throw yourself in front of danger for my sake, my lord, even if it worries me to death."

"As your being in danger worries me. And mustn't a lord take the field for his champion's sake from time to time?” teased G’raha imperiously, a little grin upon his lips salving his beloved in turn.

Ifan chuckled. "As you say, my liege.” He shook his head and stuck his tongue between his teeth in a faintly teasing grin. Then he hummed again. “To be entirely honest, that's partly why I couldn't hate you. You were about to give your entire life away for duty, and... I don't blame you for wanting a last bit of happiness, even if it did hurt on my end."

G’raha returned a smile of fondness. "'Twas a lovely evening. My memories of it remain fond, if a little tarnished by my deeds." he agreed with a soft chuckle.

The healing magic faded as Ifan finished up. He took a few minutes to inspect his lover’s arm, then raised it up to press a kiss against his knuckles. "Well. I've already forgiven you for them, so I will be right here waiting for you when you are ready to do the same." he said, smiling. 

"'Tis appreciated, dear heart. As is the healing." G’raha rubbed his forearm, marveling once more at how painless the entire process was. 

"Mhm. 'Tis no trouble at all, even if I know you are more than capable of healing this sort of thing yourself." said Ifan with a rather pointed grin. 

G’raha smirked and leaned his head to bump his forehead against Ifan’s, his tail curling around his lover’s other wrist in thanks. "Perhaps I simply enjoy your hands on me." he chuckled, looking up at Ifan with a smile upon his lips.

Ifan smiled in turn. Then he stood; partially, only enough so that he could swing a leg across G’raha’s lap to straddle him. "Well... If you enjoy them that much..." he purred, a wicked glint gleaming in his eyes.

G’raha’s ears quivered as he placed his hands on Ifan’s hips. Then he paused as he remembered. "As tempting as the offer is, dear heart, we've that meeting with the others this afternoon." he reminded the magician. 

Ifan gave it a moment’s pretense of thought. Then he cocked his head and smirked, and slid his arms around G’raha’s shoulders as he pressed the miqo’te’s back against the couch. "Ah, fuck it. If they want to come looking, they should just be ready for a show. Besides… Didn’t you say you wanted to keep me satisfied?”

G’raha grinned in turn with a devious chuckle of his own, and purred himself as he slid his hands up Ifan’s back. “‘Tis a tall order, but I believe myself equal to the task.”

[talkingbl]

The Good and Bad of Blueming

SPOILER WARNING. TW: eating disorders

The Good

The capturing of the Cha family dynamic. I want to start off by saying that the way Siwon's parents treated both him and his sister was shitty by any measure. That said, Blueming showcased an artfully crafted exploration of the interfamilial toxicity. Particularly revealing was the film-within-a-film. Those scenes where Siwon shot and exhibited his scenario were really the penultimate expression of Siwon's feeling's toward his mother. 2 things really got me: Siwon's stylistic choices with the film, and his mother's subsequent reaction to the film. Those two plot points demonstrated the power of subtlety in media. Siwon's feelings about his mother were deep and complicated yet felt simple to him. Siwon didn't hate his mother, he resented her. He didn't fear her, he wanted to be perfect for her. One scene in particular that stood out was the scene where his younger version is smiling as his mother forced him to drink the protein shake. It seems like, because of the divorce, he felt so sorry for her that he didn't mind when she began projecting all her insecurities onto him. All that mattered to Siwon, it seems, was that his mother was happy, even at his expense. And that feeling of wanting to see someone you love happy at all costs is extremely relatable.

Siwon's backstory. First off, we actually get a backstory that's not merely told to us but shown to us, like the adults we are. It's raw and compelling and shows us the uglier sides of humanity. But more than that, it gives us a look into Korean society that we never see--showcasing the blemishes on the veneer of perfection we see portrayed in Korean media. Another thing I loved about his backstory outside of the metacommentary it provided on individual choices was the fact that it had long-lasting and direct effects on Siwon's life. Siwon struggled with self esteem and feeling loved due to his abandonment issues and his mother's treatment of him post-divorce. This manifested itself whenever he'd jump to the worst possible interpretation of Daun's actions rather than assuming that Daun was approaching in good faith. That's a very real characteristic of people who struggle with low self-esteem. It also manifested itself as hyper-competitiveness with those he perceived as 'too good' for him or 'better' than him. Again, just a great way to communicate his lack of self-worth and fear of abandonment.

Daun as a concept. The best thing about Daun is how open he is with his feelings for Siwon. There's never a moment in the story where I'm left feeling confused about what he is thinking, which, IMO, is key to building a strong lead character. Plus, he's quite proactive and each of his actions have direct and measurable consequences that move the story forward. He is the living embodiment of this gif:

The mise en scene of Episode 9's intimate scene. Everything from the framing (the silhouettes), to the color grading (washed out moody blues), to the setting (beach house), to the tone (sleepy and playful) combined to create one of the most freeing scenes I've seen in a BL, ever. It wasn't just pretty to look at either--it took me to a completely different place outside of the show. It felt like that time around sunset when everything moves a beat slower, the wind is a perfect breeze, and soft background noise hums through the air. Truly gave the same vibes as 'the night feeling' (google it).

Daun's Episode 4 covered kiss. This was the moment I fell for Daun. I came into this show so skeptical and ready to be bored, but that moment changed me completely. And it wasn't the kiss itself that did it. It was the look on Daun's face as he did it, the words he'd muttered to himself up until that point, and the dumbfoundedness of Siwon. There was a childlike crush that had been growing on Daun's end and it just rose to a head. Such a beautiful moment, indeed.

The Bad

Siwon is a weak lead. Yes, I said it. He is so incredibly reactive that it actually hinders the plot. Any good writer knows that key to writing a good character is to make them do stuff rather than merely having stuff done to them. Even if the character is meant to be indecisive, they should do things that, you know, cause the the plot to happen. But here, Siwon barely moves the story forward. In fact, it's always someone else doing it for him. Whether it was his sister submitting his scenario or Daun progressing their relationship, siwon hardly did anything to give him a personality outside of his body image issues and general low self esteem. In other words, all his character development is in the past and doesn't particularly lend itself to moving the present story along..

What happened to Daun's villain arc? The moment Daun broke ole boy's phone, I thought we were in for a Ok Taecyeon Vincenzo-esque heel turn from Daun. Like the bad guy who'd do anything for his one true love. Sadly, I was wrong and we never explored that side of Daun again.

We still don't clearly know why Daun fell for Siwon in the beginning. Seemed a little too much like happenstance.

What exactly happened in the last 1-2 episodes? Girl, when I tell you I had no clue who was avoiding whom and for why in those last two episodes, I mean it. When I realized it was Daun who was avoiding Siwon, I was legitimately confused. Like, wtf? What did Siwon do to deserve this? Why was Daun doing this to himself? I honestly even feel like they should've cut the entire 11th hour betrayal plot out of there because we all saw that coming a mile away. It would've been more refreshing if Daun never went behind Siwon's back in the first place and they had some other conflict instead. But what do I know? I write blog posts not teleplays.

[nuagederose]

kinktober 2022 // day seven: mise en abyme  prompt: sex toys (courtesy of @the-purity-pen) pairing(s): alex/lily + mark/lily if you squint (eerie inhabitants) also on ao3 💋

*the fanfic equivalent of realizing and accepting that your mind is broken

I took a walk through a rain-drenched neighborhood. It had been a long while since I had gone out for a walk but I was willing to do it through the rain. I hung out with vampires for a long time, and thus I was more than able to stand it unlike the rest of the people there in the Bay Area.

However, it was so unlike California with all of this rain, with all of the puddles strewn out before me and the small rivers which formed in the storm drain by my feet. I reached the next street corner and I spotted the café up ahead. All of this rain had soaked my jeans at the very bottom as well as my shoes. I kept my purse and the journal inside tucked under the safety of my arm. Though I had my umbrella with me over my head, I needed to stop before the rain drenched me any further.

Things were so different now with all of the boys having done their thing and having moved onto greener pastures. At least Abby and I had finally moved out of the Iverson estate and into a better place near the shoreline. If I was going to have her live with me until we were both in our forties, then I was more than willing to let it happen.

Out of all of them, the one I least expected to leave the Bay Area and leave all of us behind in the dust was Alex, especially when he and I swore that we would be there in California forever. He told me that he had to get out of there and onto the opposite side of the country because it wasn’t safe for him as a vampire, and he told me not to worry about him. But before I could even so much as make a decision for myself, he was already gone.

Here I was, nearing thirty, and my vampire boyfriend, the only man for me, had bailed on California for the East Coast, and I never got closure. I could never not worry about him because he was undead and never went for very long without filling up his belly with all the fresh blood.

He was the love of my life. I would always love him and I would always miss the bizarre comfort of his body, and I would always yearn for him. But it ached so bad and so hard that he had just picked up and left without even so much giving me and Abby a moment’s notice.

I reached the café and I ducked in through the door, and I closed my umbrella before I went inside all of the way. I then took the table on the far side of the room, right by the back door so no one would have to see me. I leaned my umbrella up against the side of the chair and I set my purse on the table before me.

Before I went up to the counter for a cup of chai latte for myself, I noticed the slender journal inside of my purse. I had had it in there for so long that I completely forgot what I had written in there.

I took it out of there and I opened it up to the first couple of pages.

It came back to me right then and there.

I never really liked the idea of holding a sex journal because I had too much to say about it, but I recalled that I had journaled a day like this before, about a month ago. It was odd because I had no memory of writing it down after it had happened. But once I grazed over the written words there, I started to gather that memory, a particular rainy day such as this at the moment.

I missed Alex especially when I read the first few words. It was right after he had left for New York and I wanted him back in my arms again.

I was about a block up the street and I stumbled upon this adult store on the side of the street: I was drawn to the sign in the front window, especially since it was the middle of the day. It seemed so strange to go into a place like that at such an odd hour, but I peered over my shoulder as I reached the front door and I stepped inside of there once I realized that no one watched me.

It was this cozy little shop that smelled of fresh incense and as if they had cleaned in there before I walked inside. The first thing I spotted before me once I was in there was a game of naked Twister on the rack: next to that was a series of fuzzy dice and dice with some statements on each side. I swallowed as I glanced about the room, at the dolls, at the lingerie, at the toys, all of it.

I felt like such a late bloomer at the sight of it all before me.

I had had sex with a vampire, but that was as far as it went, though.

The girl in there, who looked to be my age, walked on over to me dressed in a little lace chemise and fitted skinny jeans that slid down her hips a bit to expose her belly button and her hip bones, flashed me a smile as she strode up to the rack with the dice.

“Hi, how’re you?” she asked me in a warm voice that felt like fresh wild honey.

“I’m good, I’m just—a little curious,” I confessed to her with a break in my voice, and I could feel my face growing warm from the fact that I stood in there. I gripped onto the strap of my purse and I knitted my knees together.

“You came to the right place,” she told me, and she set her hands upon the edge of the counter before her. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Well... I’m trying to win my boyfriend back,” I sputtered out. It was sort of the truth: I did want Alex back, but I wanted some closure if that was it for us, though.

“Oh! Looking to spice things up?” Her face lit up at the mere sound of that.   The fact she was so chipper and upfront startled me so much that I lost track of what I wanted to tell her. There was a part of me that wanted to tell her that I wanted something to make the act not feel so cold, but then I would have to explain the concept of the vampires to her. In a way, I was willing to spice things up between me and Alex. I wanted him to feel warmer against my body, to feel his warmth even if it had no chance of returning any time soon. To feel his warmth pressed up against my body for all eternity.

“Um, yes?” I replied as I fanned myself and undid my collar on my jacket to show off a bit more of my neck. “I don’t really know where to start, though.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” she assured me with a smile, and she gestured for me to follow her around the corner. “It can be overwhelming at first but that’s why I'm here, though.”

I let out a low whistle as I opened my jacket and let my body out of there. I needed to loosen up for certain.

“What’s he like?” she asked me in a low voice.

“He’s... tall and wiry. And he’s got a big appetite.”

“A big appetite?” she echoed me and she flashed me a smirk.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Hmmm...” She rounded the end of the countertop and she showed me a sea foam green dildo about the size of a Coney Island hot dog and round on either end.

“Whoa,” I breathed out.

“It’s of considerable size, yeah.” I was amazed by the sheer smoothness of the outside surface: if I didn’t know better, I could have sworn that it was just another piece of cosmetics in someone’s bathroom.

“I chose this one for you because it doesn’t exactly resemble to a penis while still maintaining the phallic shape of it.”

I let out a low whistle and rolled up my sleeves.

“You can hold it if you’d like,” she suggested to me with a raise of her eyebrows. “Get a feel for it. It has to feel right in your hands.”

I blushed as I picked it up and cradled it in my hands. The surface was so smooth and delicate, as if it was comprised of glass rather than silicone. Indeed, I felt something as I held it for myself. Something deep inside of me, as if I had chosen the right one. I curled my fingers around the side of it and she nodded her head at me with a smirk still plastered across her face.

She then held up a little black tin box: it resembled to one of those metal lunchboxes. It even had a handle on one side of it.

“What’s this?” I asked her.

“This kit comes with a blindfold, a bullet vibrator, and a ring as well as that dildo,” she told me.

“A ring?” I raised an eyebrow at her.

“A little ring for him. It can make him erect for a lot longer.” It took me a second but I realized what she meant by this, though. I nodded at her and showed her a smile at that.

“And what’s the bullet for?” I asked her.

“The bullet is for your clit,” she replied, and I was amazed by how much I didn’t know before. “Little itty-bitty vibrator for under the hood.”

I let out a low whistle and I gripped onto that dildo with both hands. I held it close to my chest and there were so many things that went through my mind, especially when I realized as to what I was doing right then. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip and eyed the dildo in my hands all the while.

“You know, if you’re a little bit uncomfortable, there are some games over here. It can add a little humor to the situation so things aren’t as intense there.”

“The dice?” I asked her.

“The dice. The game of Twister.” She nodded to the counter on the other side of the room, right by the front door. “Right over there, babe.”

I sighed through my nose. I was there. I wanted to be there. I had the dildo in my hands, pressed up to my chest, and I wanted to go further than that. I made my way over to the counter over there and I picked up a couple of the fuzzy dice: the fabric was soft and silken against the palms of my hands. I dropped my gaze to the dice with the writing on the sides. The mere sight of them made me blush even more.

“I like these,” I told her. “I hope he will, too. And I'll take the kit over there, too.”

“Good choice,” she told me with a wink.

I wanted to feel sexy for him, to seduce him back to me. I was willing to do whatever it took as well, even with my own hang-ups and my own reluctance and the incessant blush in my face. I didn’t want to laugh especially when I already felt so warm from the humiliation.

I made my way out of there with a little black bag tucked underneath my purse to keep it all out of sight from passersby on the street all around me. I told her that I would keep her little hub there on the street in mind the next time I was in San Jose.

The rain persisted as I took the next bus back home to the knolls outside of El Cerrito, a rather long bus ride at that, too, and our new apartment nestled back in the trees. Abby was out of there which meant I had a little bit of privacy.

I stepped into my bedroom and I took the black box out of the bag first, and I opened the lid before I set it down on the nightstand next to the bed. I left it open all so I could everything in there: that blindfold at the bottom looked to be made of black velvet and suede; the perfect fabric for his little round face. I followed it up with the dice, which I kept on the bed before me. I sighed through my nose and I hoped that these things would work for me and Alex, if and when I saw him.

“Abby?” a man’s voice carried into the room right then. I turned around and Mark appeared in the doorway right there.

“What the fuck, Mark!” I exclaimed, and I scrambled to close the box.

“Oh, deary me,” Mark declared with his hands raised up before him. He snickered at the sight of the toys and a warm little blush bloomed across his face. “I’m really sorry, Lily—shit, I thought you were Abby.”

I held the black box in between my hands with the lid closed, but I couldn’t stop the tears. I pinched my eyes shut and I bowed my head just so Mark wouldn’t have to see me.

“Hey,” he started, and he padded into the room right next to me. “Hey. What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I just—feel bad.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I feel bad that I got these,” I told him, to which he frowned and tilted his head to the side. “They’re... they’re fucking—sex toys. I hate that I got these. I want to throw them all away now.”

“Really? You feel bad because of these?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I can’t explain it, but the whole concept of—sex toys—just makes me really uncomfortable.” The phrase alone made me gag.

“Think maybe it’s the thought that you’re sticking an object you-know-where?” he asked me, and I shook my head.

“I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s just the phrase by itself that gets me.”

“Sex toys—yeah, it is kind of weird when you say it out loud,” he assured me. “It’s like two diametric opposites of one another and yet they’re brought together somehow. Toys are for kids and sex is something kids shouldn’t have.”

“I cannot believe you just said that,” I sputtered, and he chuckled at that.

“Why? I’m trying to help you out.”

I swallowed and I cowered back towards the black box on the nightstand: I could feel my face warming even more at the sight of Mark there in the doorway before me. He backed away from me to give me privacy once again, and I sighed through my nose with the hopes that I could calm down my heart. I turned to the toys once again.

It was an odd phrase to think about and say aloud now that I thought about it. These things that were for pleasure and yet they had the weirdest name once I thought about what Mark had said. I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, and I turned to the doorway again. Mark re-emerged right there before me.

“Do you mind—at all,” he began with a little wave of his hand towards me, “—and I want you to know that you have every right to slap me in the face or sock me right in the stomach for what I’m about to ask you, too. But—do you mind sharing with me what you got for you and him?”

“You promise you’re not going to laugh?” I asked him with a sniffle.

“Not at all,” he assured me, and he sank down on the edge of the bed right next to me. “I only did that because it caught me off-guard. But trust me: I don’t want to laugh at you if you’re not comfortable.”

I showed him a smile and then I opened the box to show him the toys inside. I picked up the ring first and foremost. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of that sea foam green cock ring nestled in between my fingers.

“This goes around his dick,” I said. “See? It's got a little button on one side. It's like a vibrator for boys.”

“Is that a blindfold?” he asked me with a gesture to the patch of velvet at the bottom.

“It is, yeah.”

“I’m guessing that’s a dildo,” he added with another gesture inside.

“It is—and this little thing here goes up—” I swallowed as I picked up the bullet vibrator. “Onto my clit.”

Mark raised his eyebrows at that.

“Just goes—right in,” he muttered in a low voice.

“I also got these—” I showed him the dice. He picked out the one on the left and showed a little smirk at all of the sides.

“Oh, he’s going to like these,” he assured me. “By the way, do you want me to call him and get his ass back here for you?”

“Yeah. I would rather you call him and get him out here, because there’s no way that I can with my own voice alone. It's either you or Abby.”

“I’ll do it,” he promised me with a wink, and he headed on out of there for the cordless phone. I heard him dial Alex’s new number, which was then followed by silence. He dialed another number after that.

I knew that I would have to wear something nice for him if and when he returned home to the Bay Area. I could hear Mark chatting it up with him in the next room and I could only hope for something good to come on out of it.

“Alright, I’ll tell her—” he finally said at one point. A brief silence and then he poked his head into the bedroom.

“Alex said, yes, that he’s actually coming on home for a bit right now—he has to, anyway. Something about his parents still having a few things of his that he wants with him back East.”

“So, he’s here in the Bay Area, right now?” I asked him.

“Yeah, he’s on his way, actually. And I should probably tell you that I’m thinking of moving to New York soon, myself.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “What! Why?”

“Change of pace,” he said. “If nothing else, I can invite you and Abby along with me.”

“We just moved to this place, though, Mark,” I pointed out.

“It is a pain, too,” he added with a raise of his eyebrows. He then showed me the tip of his tongue. “Do you mind—trying out these little things on me? Just as a test run?”

“I don’t think you can,” I said. “I bought these specifically for Alex and myself, Mark. If I use one of these on you, it’ll be a betrayal of his trust.”

“You don’t want me to use the dildo on you?” he asked me with a straight face.

“I hold onto it and—slip it in,” I said, and I could feel myself blushing again. “Actually, you know what? Fuck it—seeing as we’re here right now.”

Mark gasped at me as I took off my jeans and my shirt, and I leaned back onto the bed with the dildo in hand.

“What do you mean, exactly—’seeing as we’re here right now’?” His voice broke and he swallowed at that.

“I mean, I—do want you to use the dildo on me, Mark,” I told him. “You know, I—” I cleared my throat. “I kind of don’t want to be alone with these—things.” He swallowed again, and he stepped back into the room with his fingers up on the crests of his shoulders. I could see it in his eyes that he was nervous, as nervous as me.

My hands shook as I handed it over to him. How I wished I was confident with these sorts of things, even with the number of times in which Alex and I got to fuck each other.

I peeled down my underwear for him.

He raised his eyebrows at me. He held onto the dildo with one hand and my knee with his other. I really hoped that Abby wouldn’t walk in right then as he switched it on and it hummed to life.

“So, what do I do just—bring it down like this?”

The end hit me right between the legs like a vibrating drill bit, such that it hurt so bad and I lunged back away from him.

“Whoa—whoa, holy fuck—!” I breathed hard and held a hand up to my chest. Mark held it right next to his face and held still all the while. I waited a second before the pain disappeared from in between my legs.

“Too high?”

“Yes, AH!” When I even so much as moved my leg to the side to adjust myself, it sent a sharp pain up from the lips of my vulva all the way up to the base of my spine.

“Shhh—I got you. I got you…” Mark set his hand on my knee to steady me. I stayed still right there reclined back on my elbows and with my gaze fixed on him. He swallowed again and he shook his head.

“No,” he confessed.

“No? No, what?”

“I worry about hurting you again,” he confessed to me. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He handed the end which he held it towards me: indeed, he had accidentally turned it too high. I pushed the button down and that brought the vibrating down. But at that point, Mark had slid off of the edge of the bed and right next to me so he wouldn’t have to look at me right in between the legs.

“Okay,” I said as I held it down between my legs and closed my eyes. “Let’s try this again.”

A knock on the door caught our attention such that I nearly dropped the damned thing onto the bed.

“That’s probably him,” he told me.

“That was fast,” I muttered as he left the room. My pants were down on the floor, but I wanted to surprise Alex anyway, once he came into the room.

Indeed, when he sauntered in there and he saw my bare-naked legs and my crotch out in the open, he greeted me with his eyebrows raised and a smirk upon his face. He gave his black hair a little toss back before he stepped inside of the bedroom: he left the door ajar by a few inches.

“That’s dangerous,” I remarked.

“Your sister showed up around the same time I did,” he explained. “So, Mark took her out to get some pizza.”

“Oh, boy,” I said. His eyes wandered over to the dildo as well as the black box on the nightstand, and he tilted his head to the side.

“What’s all this?”

“It’s a, uh—little something refreshing,” I replied. “Two things for me, and two things for you.”

“Two things for me!” he declared. “What would that be?”

I sat up and I took out the cock ring, and I held it up for him.

“It goes over your head,” I told him. “It vibrates, too.”

“And what’s the other thing?”

I took out the blindfold.

“Well,” he stated. “Seeing as you have no pants on, Lily, and the two of them are out and about, what say we—” He fastened his belt and let his pants drop down his legs to his ankles. He then peeled off his shirt and showed me his bare body, as creamy and milky as fresh fallen snow.

“Have a little fun?” I filled in for him.

“Please. Besides, my next flight doesn’t leave until the mid-morning tomorrow.”

Alex tossed his shirt off to the side and he set his hands on his waist, right around his belly button. He was so slender and svelte there, and his skin looked so creamy and silky under the light on the ceiling over us.

“Wonder if they make vibrators for bellies that are absolutely bulging full,” he said aloud.

“Yes, it’s called ‘the hand’,” I teased him with a show of my hand, and he burst out laughing at that.

“Look at it like this: the belly rub is the precursor to a vibrator or any kind of little thing you stick somewhere. Your hand’s moving back and forth on a warm part of the body that happens to be very taboo, right over a place that’s even more taboo—in my case, not too far from where you’d give me a hand job.” It was right then I wondered if Mark ever mentioned anything to him before he walked in.

He took his seat there on the edge of the bed right next to me, and he reclined back onto his hands. He gave his long black hair another big toss back with the flick of his head and he showed me a little smile as some of those little ringlets clung onto his shoulder and his collar bone.

“So, what do we want to do first, the ring or the blindfold?” I asked him.

“The ring. I feel if we do blindfold now, we won’t be able to see the coming attractions.” He cracked me a smile again, and I couldn’t help but laugh at that.

I reached behind me and picked up that little green ring from the inside of the box. He lay down flat on his back and he nudged his underwear down over the tops of his thighs. Just by the way that he pushed down his underwear made me wonder if he had any sense of apprehension himself at all.

Indeed, he swallowed and he showed me his dick, all about the size of the palm of his hand, as it lay relaxed right in between his legs. He let his underwear go down to his knees and he spread his arms out on either side of his body so I could have a better view of him from how I hovered above his body. I glanced down at the ring as well as the shape of his hips and the slender shape of his dick.

There was a part of me that wanted to poke him and stroke him there, just to give him a little fondle of my fingertips on his skin, a sweet little hand job before we tried out this new thing, but I wanted us to do the new thing, though. I lifted him up and I slipped the ring over the head; out of the corner of my eye, I could see him curling his toes down below the edge of the bed.

“On secure,” I said. “Now, we lift off—”

I pushed the switch to the very first notch. He burst out laughing right then, much to my confusion. The next notch up and he laughed even harder.

“What are you doing? Why are you laughing?”

“It tickles!”

“Oh, it tickles?”

He rolled over onto his side with the ring still attached to the tip, and my fingers still clasped onto the sides of the ring: at least until he rolled off of the bed and onto the floor. I followed him down to the floor, where he spread his arms away from his body and his long wavy black hair tousled itself over the crown of his head. I suspended myself over his little body and my breasts hung down to his chest.

“Whoa,” he muttered.

“Hey—oh.” I locked eyes with him. “Oh, my.” I ran my hand down his bare chest to his stomach. As soft and silken as ever. “Oh, my word.”

“Soft, isn’t it?”

“As soft and pillowy as I remember.”

“Where’s the dick… where’s that goddamn plastic dick, that mini-me.” I glanced up at the dildo on the nightstand, with its silicone sides as smooth and pristine as ever, as if I hadn’t slipped it inside before then. I picked it off of the nightstand and showed it to him.

“Right here, and it’s silicone, not plastic. What do you need it for?”

“I have an idea. Let's get back onto the bed.” I climbed off of him and crawled across the sheets with my ass in the air.

“You sure this thing goes into your coochie and not the back door?” he asked me in a broken voice.

“Positive. The gal in the shop showed it to me and I felt—weirdly connected to it.”

I lay down on my side and I gazed up at him there at the foot of the bed. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and showed me the tip of his tongue again.

“So, what’re you thinking about?” I asked him.

“Okay. Show me the sun.”

“Show you the sun, what?”

“Open sesame. Sock it to me. Give me some of that juicy live human pussy.”

“Ah, ah, ah—you didn’t say the magic word.” I wagged my finger at him, to which he sighed and rolled his eyes into his head.

“Show me the sun, please.”

I let out a low whistle and I rolled over onto my back. I opened my legs for him. He ran his tongue along his lips and he brought the smooth tip of the dildo down to my lips. It felt like he had inserted his finger into there instead of a toy.

“There we go—” he said in a low groan of a voice. “Looks like it fits you well?” He slipped it in a bit further, such that it made me arch my back a bit.

“Oh, my god! Alex!” He held back.

“Too much?”

“No,” I quipped.

“What’d you say ‘oh, my god’ for, then?”

“To get you moving.”

He paused, complete with his eyes locked onto me. And then he cracked me a smile.

“Ahhh, ha! I like the way you think, Lilian.” He adjusted the button on the dildo so it started out slowly. “Okay—here it comes.”

He slipped the tip back in and the sides vibrated in between my lips. The sensation sent a shiver up my spine, such that I arched my back again. He slipped it inside a bit further and I could feel my nipples tightening up underneath my shirt.

He leaned in closer to my face with his lips parted and his tongue out like the filthy dog he was. I made out the tips of his fangs in there, as if he was ready to draw blood on my part. He instead licked his lips and lingered closer and closer to me.

“This counts as double penetration,” he told me in a low voice, right into my ear. He took the dildo out and brought his lips to my own. I could feel him there. I could feel his erection, his warm taut skin, every last part of it upon me. He set the dildo off to the side as he inched his body onto mine.

Suddenly, it made sense as to why the girl in the shop was so adept on showing me sex toys. It made the whole thing better, though it would be some time before I felt acquainted enough with the name itself.

Alex slipped his tongue right into my mouth and he pressed his hands onto either side of my head. He treated me to a soft little groan from his throat. His chest was warm and his belly was soft, and his dick was firm and full. I could feel him there, right in between my legs.

He gasped and whimpered in between kisses, and all I could do was give it to him straight up there, on my back.

“I got you, baby—” I whispered to him. Though he was firm and full, there had to be something else, though. Something that neither my hands nor my lips could do for him right then. “I got you—I got you—”

I pushed him off of me and right next to me on the bed. I reached for the box on the nightstand and I took out the ring for his head.

Grunting and breathing hard, he lay still on the mattress next to me. I held onto the ring with my thumb and my index finger, and I slipped it right onto his dick: it clung onto the back of his head so I knew that he would feel it all throughout.

He lifted his other head for a look down at me: I flicked the switch for it to vibrate on low. He gasped at the feeling.

I held him in one hand, and I adjusted the ring a bit with my other.

“Higher?” I offered him.

“Oh, yeah, definitely go higher,” he insisted.

The second notch up, and he let out a low whistle.

“Higher?”

“Please.”

The third notch up, and I could see a trace of that clear liquid at the tip there, right over my wrist.

The fourth and final notch up and he tilted his head back and let out a low moan. I ran my fingers down the taut skin of his dick and he gasped at the feeling. I leaned forward and I brought my lips to the side of his head as if I was about to kiss him there.

“And this counts as riding you twice,” I said right into his ear. I kissed the side of his neck and he closed his eyes.

I took the ring off of him and I could see he was as tight and taut as he had ever been before.

I could feel myself moist as the rains outside, and thus, I straddled over his hips and his big erection, and I took a seat.

It was a lot like inserting the dildo in, except I gyrated my hips to and fro and some juices emerged all the while. I looked right into his eyes as I rode Amazon on top of him. Suddenly, we felt closer again, and I didn’t want him to leave for New York without me.

I ground down on him hard at one point and he let out these little whimpers from the feeling. I could feel my body letting itself go, letting itself free. The richest fire of all rich fires that I had ever felt before.

One of us was going to come first, and it was going to be me just from a mere sliver of a thought about it. I raised up and let out a low animalistic groan, and I fell onto my side right next to him on the bed. He breathed hard as he shot out his load onto his thigh and his knee.

“Wow,” he breathed out. “That was—wow.”

“I cannot believe we went there,” I said, out of breath myself.

And that was when the journal entry ended. That full memory in detail out there on display for myself to see and come back to and reminisce over on how I had conquered my own hang-up with the help of not one, but two boys.

But Alex still left for New York, and as far as I knew, Mark did, too, because Abby and I hadn’t seen him since then. However, I had a clear memory of Alex telling me that he planned to always visit San Francisco given this was where he was born and raised and grew up in, and also because I was here.

There was a part of me that wanted to do it all again, especially as I dug through my purse and I spotted that little green bullet vibrator and the blindfold both at the bottom next to my wallet. I had had it in my purse all this time and yet I never told Alex or Mark about it.   Maybe it would be something else, something more to add to everything.

[fettesans]

Top, photograph by Terry Richardson, Head Bangers!, posted on Tumblr, October 11, 2010. Bottom, Ed Atkins, installation view Olde Food at Martin-Gropius-Bau, September 29 – December 10, 2017. Via.

Videowalls and flat screens depict a choreographed chamber drama of dubious sentimentality and historical inaccuracy. Caricature and parable collide in a nostalgic no-place of derailed escapism, conjuring both recent Fantasy television phenomena, and any fantasy’s failure to distract from a resurgent literalism concerning the romantic possibilities of the imaginary. Unlike much of Atkins’ previous work, Old Food is slow—hobbled and exhausted by its own apparent superficiality. Still, Old Food moves, caught in a concert of sad, pitched inwards and out.

These new computer-generated video works are installed alongside a vast display of the Deutsche Oper Berlin’s costume archive, presented as objet trouvé in the manner in which they are stored. Part perverse mise-en-scène, part practical acoustic treatment, the costumes invite a reading of the videos as aspirationally operatic and as compromised historical dream—both in their failure to sufficiently address their contemporary moment, and their presumed locale, from 11th century Scotland to ancient Egypt to Berlin, and the world, today. Just as the costumes are displayed in a manner to subvert their role as instruments of immersive storytelling, Atkins’ videos constantly undo both their realism and their elaborate technology. The effect, ironically enough, is one of genuine imminence. Via.

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Space is curved everywhere, but in some places it's more curved than in others: like pockets or bottlenecks or niches, where the void is crumpled up. These niches are where, every two hundred and fifty million years, there is a slight tinkling sound and a shiny hydrogen atom is formed like a pearl between the valves of an oyster. I walked past, pocketed the atom, and set the fake atom in its place. Pfwfp didn't notice a thing: predatory, greedy, he filled his pockets with that rubbish, as I was accumulating all the treasures that the universe cherished in its bosom.

Italo Calvino, from Cosmicomics, 1965. Via.

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While exploring the evolving search habits of Americans, we discovered a surprising trend: Over 2 in 5 have used TikTok as a search engine. Consumers most often turned to TikTok to search for new recipes, but they also frequently searched for new music, DIY tips, and fashion advice. This shift was particularly pronounced among younger generations, with 64% of Gen Zers and 49% of millennials saying they’ve used TikTok as a search engine. Gen Zers were also 29% more likely than millennials to scour TikTok for new recipes. And even more striking, nearly 1 in 10 Gen Zers preferred TikTok over traditional giants like Google for their search needs. Another surprising find was the new chatbot on the block, ChatGPT. Over 1 in 10 consumers turned to ChatGPT to search for information, with 1 in 20 going as far as asking it for personal finance advice.

(Study conducted by Adobe, with 808 consumers, no data provided, and no information on how the consumers were selected) Via.