#in terms of ‘how many onions do i need’

[labyrynth]

i don’t feel like bothering some random person abt a comment from several months ago so can someone tell me what i’m missing here

unless everything is in relatable units, a cup is always different

a cup is always a cup tho;;;?? like based on the context it’s very obviously Cup (culinary unit of measurement). the cup IS the unit. what am i not getting here.

[setsugekka]

❥outsourcing (m)

↳ With monogamy as the assumed, standard relationship model, what happens when a few years down the line, you and your husband come to the understanding that both of you are interested in exploring more?

You call his friend over for dinner and entertainment, of course.

husband!bang chan x fem!reader x bull!lee minho — ethical non-monogamy, explicit sexual content. [5,8k wc] cws: hot wifing/cuckholding!!, dom/sub dynamics (dom!minho), penetrative sex (unprotected), oral sex (m), hair pulling, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation, pet names (incl. slut).

Renegotiation of terms.

There are always terms and conditions.

We don’t typically refer to it in such a crass way – the agreed upon conditions of a relationship upon entering it. The expectations and boundaries each individual may have for the other. Typically, most things that would constitute the terms and conditions are assumed upon entry.

Monogamy is assumed. The standard. This is the baseline, unless otherwise stated. The end all, be all of a relationships' foundation, in many cases. Do you want to fuck other people, or not?

Sometimes, when entering a new relationship, we agree to terms that at the time we are happy with. Of course I don’t want to be with anyone else, I love you, why would I? You’re all I could ever need.

The concept of one person providing any and everything you could possibly ever need. Such a socially common set up for failure. An impossible task we ask of partners without even truly stating it. Be everything at all times for me, and I will be the same for you. The idea that seeking anything outside of a partner is bad – when that is precisely what friends, family, colleagues all provide, without the logical connection being made.

Is one person ever truly enough? Is it logical to even believe in such a fairy tale?

The truth of the matter, is that you are not enough. There is comfort, serenity, freedom upon accepting this as the case. We are only human, after all. Being human is okay.

“Do you ever think about it?”

You watch the back of Chan’s head from your seated position at the dining room table – you watch his arms still only briefly from the chopping motion of him working into the onions on the counter before he turns slowly to look behind him – at you, and his brows furrow in confusion. “Think about…what?”

The innocuous conversation about your time together as a couple – now married – had started simply enough, discussing the past and present and all of your little journeys together in between, sexual and not – but naturally, as the hours wore on, the sexual nature had begun looming more and more in the foreground of the talk.

Besides, you had been thinking about it for months, now. How to bring it up. If you even should. Suppose now was as good a time as ever.

It was difficult sneaking it in there, between some recollection of dirty talking and fantasy discussion. He was the one that had brought it up to begin with, after all. He put the thought in your head. Nothing you were too keen on in particular at the time – three or so years back, and in the middle of sex – but the idea stuck with you, creeping back in with more and more frequency. He brought it up. He mentioned it. It was his idea.

But did he even remember?

Bringing an elbow up to the table and placing your chin in your palm, you grin towards him. Your husband. Love of your life. It wasn’t as if you wanted to replace him, after all. He was perfect, amazing, wonderful, and the sex was, too. It wasn’t about any of that.

You weren’t really sure what it was about. Curiosity? Taboo? A sort of itch unable to be scratched, but also lingering without cause. The truth was this: you had perfectly fine dick at home, so why were you wanting more?

He brought it up.

“Remember that anniversary night that we got pretty drunk, you said that thing,” you begin, taking the utmost care in how you traverse your words. “About…someone else?”

It always was cute, the way you could watch Chan’s ears redden in real time.

“Were you serious?”

Chan sets the knife down and turns slowly, leaning the small of his back up against the counter edge as if in need of the support for the conversation that is about to take place. Chewing on the inside of his mouth as if just as carefully attempting to choose his words, he silences for far too long for your own liking, before finally allowing a response from himself.

“Do you want that?”

“Don’t answer my question with another question!” you whine, jokingly throwing a hand towel in his direction and only for it to fall flat on the floor in front of him. He flinches regardless and smiles.

“Fine,” he says, before making his way to sit across from you at the table. “Then we need to like…talk about this.”

Chan reaches forward and takes your free hand into one of his own, gently rubbing his thumb over the top of it and bashfully smiles at you. Ears still bright with shyness, and he pulls his eyes down and away from your own briefly before answering the question.

“For me? Yeah, I mean,” he pauses, once again thinking through his response carefully and in real time. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything but…I think about it, yeah.”

“Do you jerk off to it?”

“Oh come on, really?”

“I feel like that’s the best indicator of how into something you are,” you joke, “if you come to it, then you’re into it. At least, the idea of it.”

Pulling his hand away and sitting back in his chair to cross his arms, playfully huffy at the way the conversation has turned, he rolls his eyes before reluctantly answering. “Yes! Is that what you want me to say? Yes, I have.”

“Okay, good,” you say, reaching forward again with a grabby hand indicating that you wish to receive physical affection from him just as he had been giving prior to the line of questioning. “What is it about it that you…like?”

You can tell that your husband struggles with coming to terms with the conversation taking place. Not from a place of humiliation, or dissatisfaction, but rather that it was one he hadn’t intended on ever having, most likely. A conversation that he had never once played out in his head, or practiced. A passing whim one drunken night, locked away into the back of his mind – only to be indulged between him and his hand – now bare and laid out on the table for questioning. By his wife. In regards to a monogamous marriage.

…Unless?

Chan shifts in his seat and gives his hand back to you, bringing his elbow up to mirror your own posture before responding. “Suppose…something about watching you – would just be incredibly sexy to me. Making eye contact with you while it happens even if I’m not involved.”

And now you’re really taken aback, because the original assumption had been one of a threesome, but now with new information present – you realize the two of you had been on much different pages all along – and the difficulty of not expressing your shock at the revelation holds firm as it paints your facial features. “Not involved?”

But he only smiles in reply, as if the initial timidity had already worn off with the one, single expression of his desires. However, perhaps he had merely passed it to you, now, feeling the tips of your ears heat up at the implications racing through your mind.

Not a threesome. Watching.

“You think about watching another man fuck me?”

Just right out with it, then.

Chan chuckles at the fact that you’ve finally caught up with what’s actually being discussed and squeezes your hand in affirmation. “You know I’ve never been the jealous type, babe.”

“I mean, yeah,” you stumble through your words, “I just figure…most men would at least want to be involved.”

“I would be involved, I’d be there, just wouldn’t be the one fucking you.”

“You’ve really thought about this before?” you ask, suspicious.

“More than you even know.”

Your eyes widen in silent shock at the admission. You learn so much about your husband everyday, suppose today would be no different, would it?

“Besides,” he begins again, “you’re the one that broached this conversation, so obviously you’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“Yeah, a threesome, not-”

“Fucking another man, in general. The details are just that, really.”

Chan saying it like that makes you feel a little guilty, you realize. Shying away from the topic both verbally and physically – gently attempting to pull your hand from his own you watch the way his face Changes from playful to concerned – he always was incredibly attentive and quick on the pickup. “Whoa, whoa,” he stammers, “what’s wrong?”

Concern lacing your own features, you refrain from making eye contact with him – unsure of the turn that the discussion had taken. “I don’t want you to think that you’re like…not good enough or something, or like I’m constantly fantasizing about other men, or-”

“Aww, babe,” Chan coos, motioning you out of your chair and over to him. He seats you on his lap and quickly wraps strong arms around you. “I don’t. I am not even a little insecure about this – or about us – you have to know that.”

Chan kisses your arm, the only thing in direct kissable range and smiles up at you as you look down at him. “Trust me, that I know what I’m okay with, yeah? You don’t have to babysit me, I promise.”

“Okay, I believe you.”

“So, shall we dabble, then? Wade in the pools of non-monogamy?”

Hearing him say the words, non-monogamy, it sort of makes your head spin. Obviously, that is precisely what is at hand, so it being said shouldn’t elicit such a bizarre reaction deep within you. Innate guilt, worry, almost a sense of dirtiness begins to bubble up in your gut – and realistically, you know why.

Monogamy is the implied social standard. Anything outside of that is wrong. That’s what you’ve grown up being told…by everyone, by everything. Is it really okay, to bring someone else into your marriage, even if both parties are enthusiastically on board?

Hell yeah it is.

The truth is, renegotiating the terms of ones marriage – even just for a night, takes time. It takes work. It takes numerous conversations – and as a result, it’s approximately six months that go by before the logistics ever really feel ironed out enough to make the dive. Discussions of friends? Mutual friends? One-sided friends? Strangers? Each coupling will have their own preference of whom to invite in, even be it only for an evening, but upon settling on the first term, it’s only a whole slew of others thereafter. After a point, you begin to consider if sex is ever even going to happen, or if the two of you will simply talk about it forever.

But such is how it must be, to help ensure that the night – and relationship – not end in catastrophe.

It does, however, sneak up on you faster than expected – once a third and the date arrive. Standing in front of your bathroom mirror, clipping the backing of your earring on – is when you hear the voice of your husband greeting another of only semi-familiarity.

Lee Minho was Chan’s friend. He was in the wedding party. The two of you had spent just enough time together that you felt comfortable around him but not so much so that he felt too close to you, specifically. The perfect candidate. Drop-dead gorgeous. Not shy about his particular…endeavors, either. He fit the bill, perfectly.

Because you and your husband were searching for something quite specific for the evening.

It was in that moment, though – knowing that the two men were both in your home now, that it felt truly real. Of course, there was still much conversation to take place before anyone's clothing would be coming off, but he was here. Your husband was here. You were here. You were…going to have sex with another man for your husbands viewing pleasure tonight.

Probably not a story for the future grandchildren.

“Hey.”

There they are. The two men of the night standing in the doorway, now both looking at you as you slink into the living room slowly – as if not to disturb, and you can’t help but carefully scan the expressions on both of them – as if looking for the tiniest sign of reluctance.

But Minho knows why he’s here tonight – naturally, best not to spring this sort of arrangement on an unsuspecting party.

“Hey,” Minho says, continuing to shrug off his coat and hanging it on the rack next to the door. With shoes already off, he makes his way over to you and kisses the air next to your cheek. “Long time no see, huh? You look nice.”

It feels normal, in ways. It also feels incredibly bizarre. Perhaps you expected him to act some way, some way different – although you’re not sure how. But he wasn’t. He was the same as always. You aren’t sure if it makes it feel better or worse. Weird?

You look over at your husband, once again looking for any signs that this should end now before it even gets started.

But Chan only smiles. All lights green for go.

Chan handles dinner as he typically does, and it goes smoothly as expected. Catching up with Minho as if he’s any other house guest – except for tonight, a careful consideration for the alcohol intake by all parties. A soft ‘two drink maximum’ is agreed upon long before his arrival by all participants, as to not get too carried away on any end. Once food is eaten and plates cleared, Chan pours everyone their second and final glasses of wine for the night before taking his seat at the shared table again and he inhales deeply, purposefully.

Because it’s time for negotiations.

“So, suppose we should talk about the rest of the night, then?”

You shuffle in your seat a bit at the idea of how the talk will go, despite having already had similar discussions previously over the months. Minho is no stranger to the topic at hand, and it’s not even his first time being a third to a couple – information he casually mentioned upon the first inquiry – it was comforting to you in a particular way, that at least someone involved in tonight's festivities had been here before.

“Pretty much,” Chan starts, and surprisingly confident, “the two of you just have fun. I don’t have any particular boundaries of what you can and can’t do, but I think it’s best if we use the color system for safety, just in case.”

Green means “everything is good,” yellow means “slow down, I need a moment to recollect myself,” and red means “immediate full stop.”

“Yeah, that sounds best,” Minho agrees, and then turns his sight to you across the table. “Are you okay with that? Is there anything you can think of that you do or don’t want me to do?”

Just the question itself makes you feel a little light-headed. You had thought about this numerous times already, for months, and yet your mind still felt empty in the moment. As if not even a second of consideration had been had prior. It was excitement, but it was also fear. The fear of doing something wrong. The fear of the potential aftermath of tonight.

Sensing your hesitation, Minho looks at Chan before reaching his hand across and taking your own. “Hey, you don’t have to do this just because I’m here, seriously, we don’t have to do anything, I can go home now, later, right in the middle of it – it’s all fine by me.”

“No, no!” you insist, realizing how standoffish you appear. Reluctant. scared. You are a little bit, but in no way are you rethinking. “I do, I want to…I'm just, nervous? I guess?”

“Is it because I’m here?” Chan asks suddenly, and you realize upon hearing the words that yeah, it kind of is. He smiles and nods at your admission, gently reaching over and adding his own hand onto the pile of reaffirming ones already laid out atop the table.

“Don’t worry about me, if you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

Arms pull back and negotiations continue, easier than before. Minho asks about the common things; condoms, anal, penis in vagina, oral…along with some less common things that are more within the scope of the role he’s meant to play that night, and with boundaries more or less set, the three of you stand up, and head towards the bedroom. Minho walks ahead, taking your hand into his own to lead you – briefly looking back at your husband, with a smile on his face – it’s the first time that the guilt and fear truly subsides – and is replaced with excitement, anticipation, desire.

Pulling up a chair, Chan sits himself down a bit distanced from the corner of the bed as to allow ample space for the scene that is about to take place before him. You suspect that perhaps he had downplayed his interest in the whole thing, with how the smile on his face never diminishes even once Minho starts kissing you.

You think it’s charming, but you know that eventually, you’re going to have to let the thought of your husband fall by the wayside to truly enjoy the fun that the night has to offer.

Standing at the side of the bed, Minho gently wraps one, strong, arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him before kissing you on the mouth – and the excitement of another man kissing you, lips completely unfamiliar after years of familiarity, immediately sends a rush of anticipation to your groin. Gently sucking at your bottom lip, teeth ghosting against the flesh – you’re reminded that Minho had been invited to play a very particular role that night – one that Chan never had been all that willing to play, even after all of your years together.

Minho was there to use you.

Pulling back from you, you already feel a bit dazed from the rush of adrenaline – looking at the man before you as he begins unbuttoning his white dress shirt, looking at you through long lashes and whispy, black hair, he smiles briefly before quickly kissing you again.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, remember that,” he whispers as he continues fiddling with his buttons. “Ever. You can tell me to stop any time.”

“I know,” you respond, a bit breathier with want than you had liked, and Minho chuckles under his breath at the effect that he’s already had on you before shrugging his shirt off and bending down for the bottom of your dress – carefully pulling it up and over your head.

Now it was very real.

Minho kisses you again, arms pulling you against him, and you revel at the way it feels to have the heat of another man on your skin. When you had imagined the moment, you hadn’t thought it to feel anything like this. The excitement, the anticipation, the needy want of another man inside of you, and already? Truthfully, you were a little humiliated at what he was doing to you.

“I’m gonna start the scene now,” Minho says quietly, looking you in the eyes and scanning your features. “Remember what I said.”

“Yeah, okay,” you exhale, and it’s shaky.

“Are you okay?” Minho chuckles again before starting, and you can only laugh at yourself in response.

“Yeah, you’re…I want to fuck you.”

You hear Chan off in the corner, and he’s laughing at your admission, which only causes Minho to laugh a bit, himself. “Okay well, we’ll get there, needy.”

Hearing Minho call you needy certainly doesn’t offset your desire for him, but watching his expression harden and his eyes darken right before you – as if settling into character – only sets off the growing desire in the pit of your stomach more.

“Get on your knees.”

Minho is already unbuckling his belt and prying his zipper down as the demand leaves his lips, and you’re all too happy to follow suit, dropping quickly and placing your hands on his thighs for leverage as he exposes himself to you. Slightly thinner than Chan, but also slightly longer – the idea of taking a dick that you’re not familiar with rushes to the forefront of your mind and the familiar ache of want begins to settle between your legs.

You haven’t even touched it, yet.

“Why don’t you go ahead and make coming here worth my time, then?”

And you’re all too happy to oblige, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and slowly working him before gently running a circle over the tip of him with your tongue – Minho’s breath hitches as he watches you then take the majority of his length into your mouth. Three strokes of your lips onto him, Minho brings a hand up and into your hair, gripping slightly and pulling you off of him. He smiles, rubbing the head of himself against your already red lips and watching the way you already – seemingly desperately – wish to have him in your mouth again.

“Look at you,” he says, satisfaction lacing his tone, “so desperate for strange cock. Color?”

It almost gives you whiplash, but you answer right away, “green.”

“Good, that’s what I thought – now show me just how bad you want it.”

And you do, in quick fashion. Combining the motion of your mouth and your hands as you work him, tongue lapping circles over the tip of his cock when you pull off, you love the way he watches every motion of you on him – and almost with a look of disdain. As if he doesn’t respect you, as if you’re nothing but a place to come for him.

Precisely everything that Chan could never do.

Working him quickly, you feel his fingertips curl into your scalp as the words leave his lips – except that they’re not intended for you.

“Mmm, your wife sucks cock pretty well, might have to make a regular arrangement of this.”

You think in that moment, that you might come untouched after all.

But just as quickly, Minho pulls you off of him and motions for you to get onto the bed as he pulls his jeans from his legs the rest of the way. You quickly oblige, and it’s not long before Minho is up and between your legs – meeting you face to face again and kissing you rough, with teeth. needy and hard between your legs. Hands snaking up his toned arms – not as thick and built as Chan – but enough to be strong, you feel all of the ways that he’s different from the man that you married. That you love. The thought brings your attention back to Chan, seated across the room – hand firmly and slowly wrapped around himself.

He was enjoying watching it. Suppose it really was his ultimate fantasy all along: watching you fuck another man for his entertainment.

And naturally, the fact that he was enjoying it, touching himself to it, only made the desire pool between your legs that much more.

“Don’t look at him,” Minho says, pulling your face over and towards him with a finger, “you’re mine, tonight.”

Oh my god.

You feel Minho’s hand slink down your body and between your legs, fingers pressed up against your clothed pussy, and you watch the way genuine shock takes his features – it’s almost out of character in the split second – it might actually be out of character.

You wore lace panties. Can’t hide much with that.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims, barely touching the soaked fabric between your legs, “you’re so wet.”

“Minho!” you shyly reply, swatting his arm as it holds him in a hovering position over you, and he only laughs in response.

“Sorry, I’m just – wow – good.”

And it’s as if he remembers to slip back into a more domineering character, that he adds, “I was going to eat you out, but suppose I don’t have to.”

Pulling himself up and seated on his heels, Minho slips a finger on each side of your hips into your panties, “can I take these off?” and you nod hurriedly in response. Minho’s eyes follow the string of arousal that connects the fabric to you as he pulls it from you in near awe – and playfully shakes his head at you before crawling back up your torso and settling down against you – head of his length just faintly pressed against your folds.

“Sure you don’t want me to wear a condom?”

“No, I-” and you pause, eyes pulling towards your husband again – his own eyes intently gazing upon the display in front of him – and you snap.

“I want to feel you, I want to feel all of you.”

Minho only smiles, dipping his head down into the crook of your neck as he reaches down to line himself up with you. Kissing your skin, his lips make their way to the shell of your ear as he slowly presses himself forward and in.

“God baby, you want me so bad, hm? Don’t worry, I’ll have you drooling for me…”

It’s a whisper, dialogue only to be heard between the two of you – not for your husbands ears, and the implications make your head spin, along with the slow stretch of unfamiliarity prying you apart in new and different ways from what you’re used to. Once pressed hip to hip, Minho stills and pulls himself up and off of you to look at you – taking you in visually.

“Can I move?”

“Please,” you just about beg.

If you were honest, Minho was being much less domineering than you had expected – you assume that it’s due to this being the first time that this arrangement is taking place – that he’s playing it safe and not wanting to take too many risks. You kind of wish he would be riskier, but the excitement of a new partner is already doing majority of the work for him as it is – mind racing at how wrong it is, allowing another man to fuck you, and raw at that.

And come inside of you?

With just the thought, your walls tighten against him and he feels it, humming at the sensation in a slow build up to a pace that suits the both of you – Minho hovers over you with both palms flat against the mattress to either side, looking down at how he enters and exits you – and then back up at the absolute delight splashed across your face.

Biting your lip as his pace builds, the overwhelming need to vocalize threatens you, and it feels all too real in the moment. Moaning as another man fucks you, for your husband to hear, but Minho’s too quick on the uptake and he recognizes it. Another easy win, for him.

“You worried he’s gonna hear you?” Minho groans as he finally settles into his pace – fucking hard into you and the sounds echoing throughout the room. “Worried he’s gonna hear how much you love my cock? He can hear you, he’s going to hear you, it’s okay.”

You can’t even control it at that point, exasperated fuck and oh my God escaping your bitten red lips as he fucks into you, and it only makes him thrust against you harder – so hard that it pushes you up the bed. “That’s right, don’t hold back, let him hear you, baby, let him know you like it.”

Head spinning, and muscles tightening, you scramble to grab onto anything that you feel will give you any sort of leverage as you feel your first orgasm quickly threatening – Minho’s forearms seeming as good a choice as any as your nails dig in, and he hisses in response with a smile, all the while continuing his relentless pace into you.

“You can come” he insists with a soft, gentle utterance, “you can come for me, and you can come for him.”

And for whatever reason, that’s what makes you snap.

The orgasm tears through you in violent fashion, eyes darting down to watch your husband as he pulls at himself at the sight. Looking back up at the man taking you through it, he grins down at you with his bottom lip pulled up between his teeth in satisfaction.

As Minho finishes riding you through it, he presses himself down against you again – mouth against the skin of your cheek, hot breath against you as he breathes out, and you can feel him begin to withdraw from you.

“That one was for me, now one for him, hm?”

Before you can think through the implications of the words, Minho pulls up and away – taking your limp body with him and turning you to face Chan across the room – your arms barely able to catch you from face planting into the mattress, and the man steadies your hips up and towards him and just as fluidly sinks himself into you again with a groan as he leans forward and settles a fist in your hair – ensuring that you’re watching your husband just before you.

“You like having him watch you?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter out and against the sheets.

Minho looks up and at Chan, “you like watching her get fucked?”

It’s breathy and shaken, but a “yeah” escapes from him in response.

“Good,” Minho says, burying himself deep into you from behind – so hard that the force and weight of him pushes you down and flat against the bed beneath you – now straddling you from behind, he brings his hand back, flat against the between of your shoulders to hold you in place as he continues into you. “She’s so wet, think she’s going to come watching you.”

Chan groans at the words, and the truth of the matter is that he might be right – feeling the familiar coiling between your legs again, and already at that.

“You gonna come for him, baby?” Minho growls, his motions harsher and rougher than before, getting more comfortable in his role as a sort of dom for the night. “Gonna let him watch you get filled up with my cum, maybe?”

“Fuck, Minho,” is all you can manage through gritted teeth, fingertips curled into the sheets beneath you begging for any purchase onto reality, but the truth is, you’re watching Chan – watching the way he palms himself at the sight of another man fucking you, talking to you like this, saying that he’s going to come inside of you – and Chan is enjoying it. He’s close.

It only gets you there even faster.

“Oh, hear that? Thought of me coming in her has her moaning my name,” he says smugly, thrusts harder than ever before, “well go ahead then, milk me, slut. Earn it.”

Quickly, you feel Minho lean down and against your ear, “can I cum inside of you?” and you just as quickly answer in affirmation. You had discussed it prior, but you appreciate the check in, nonetheless. He pulls back up, both hands gripped into the flesh of your behind as he rocks into you, desperate pleas for him not to stop falling from your mouth as you bring your attention back up to your husband – and with finality, you deliver the final blow of the night.

“I’m coming, please, please, i-inside, I want-”

Your incoherent babbling is enough to set both of the men over the edge, but it’s Chan who is the first to go, breathy curses leaving his lips in what you think might be the hardest he’s ever come – and you think to yourself in one split-second moment of clarity how lucky you are to be in such a position where you can simply witness it, as almost a bystander of sorts – to the absolute visual glory that is your husband stroking himself to completion as milky-clear ropes of cum coat his abs and fingers upon the display before him.

You’re the second to find your end, tightening hard around Minho’s cock at the visual of watching Chan finish, and it’s all it takes to topple the man inside of you over the edge – fingernails gripped deep into your skin as he fucks into you hard – three, four more times – throbbing through his release inside of you before slowly coming to a halt and slumping over your back with a heaving chest.

As sanity begins to come back to you, you consider the fact that there’s a lot of post-nut clarity to wade through right about now.

But Minho takes over, just as he had majority of the night – being the sort of guide throughout – he soon after finishing withdraws from you and peels himself from you altogether, lying down next to and brushing hair from your face.

“Are you okay? How do you feel?”

It takes you a few moments to answer, but the concern across his face pushes you forward. he’s worried. He needs to hear that you’re okay. That it’s all okay. That he didn’t fuck up and that you’re not feeling regretful, guilty, remorse.

“Yeah,” you finally exhale, “yeah, I’m okay, I feel good.”

And Minho smiles at the response, feeling relieved. He reaches down and finds your hand, lacing his fingers with your own, before leaning forward and kissing you on the forehead. “Good.”

With that, he then slowly cranes his neck up and over to get a visual of Chan, still breathy and spent just a bit across the room. “You good, champ?”

But Chan can only chuckle in response at first, before nodding and acknowledging the mess before him, “if she’s happy, then I’m happy.”

“Thanks for everything again,” Chan says, handing Minho a bag of food to take home in the morning. “You do good work, very professional,” he jokes.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m work for hire, oh my God,” Minho scoffs, pulling his jacket on and taking the bag from Chan. “I did you the favor!”

“Fucking my wife is a favor to me?”

“Evidently, I didn’t invite myself.”

“Don’t listen to him,” you smile, playfully slapping Chan on the arm before reaching towards Minho and hugging him goodbye. “Thanks for last night, you took really good care of us, it means a lot.”

Minho sort of rolls his eyes, as if embarrassed by the idea of being complimented for a job well done, but says that you’re more than welcome to you before turning back towards your husband, and with an elbow to the arm and a sly grin, “be careful buddy, might steal your girl.”

And Chan rolls his eyes in response, thanking Minho again for his time before pushing him out of the front door in envious jest.

With the door closed, and an end to the chapter, Chan pulls you into his embrace and hugs you tightly, much to your surprise. “I love you,” he says.

“Babe,” you start, apprehensively, “are you really worried he’s going to take me? You don’t have to-”

“No,” Chan interjects, pulling you from him and just as lightning quick hoisting you up and over his shoulder before heading to the bedroom.

“But don’t worry, I’m about to undo everything he just did.”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

[vidavalor]

*dings the bell* … I’m back.

My Ukrainian friend made potato salad! It has cucumbers, carrots, onion, & canned green peas in it, and it’s absolutely delicious!

Sooo… can I ask what moment/scene you found the most devastating so far? I guess The KissTM is the most popular but I wonder if you’ve spotted something even more heartbreaking?

Hi @procrastiel Much love to you and your Ukrainian friend & please thank her again for me for the recipe as we made it and it was delicious. 💕Hope she's doing well. The KissTM is pretty heartbreaking for sure but I had a couple of moments that I found at least equally as heartbreaking...

The blues below the cut. TW: Depression.

What really got me in S2, in terms of heartbreaking stuff, was the focus on the less "showier" kinds of depression in Aziraphale and Gabriel. I'm not dismissing the amazing Crowley story the show has been telling but it tends to be more overt. The story focusing on depression lingering beneath different types of exteriors-- those who project themselves as being upbeat and/or fine-- was really well-executed and it had moments as devastating to me as the kiss.

The "but that's for professional conjurers only" scene and, in particular, the choices made in Aziraphale's response to Crowley's "my Nefertiti-fooling fellow" response is probably my favorite bit of acting in the series entirely to date. Michael Sheen broke me into little pieces with the way he conveyed a lifetime of pain, depression, anxiety and sleepless nights in Aziraphale's eyes on the "professional conjurers" bit and the smile...

...I love how you literally watch the pain of it all melt off his face at Crowley gently reassuring him and the smile that starts and then becomes just a beam of love he can't keep off his face. It's gorgeous.

It's actually what makes The Final 15 hurt even more, really, I think-- because you know that this is what Aziraphale needed. It's the same core set of problems but he needed 1941!Crowley and he got AlphaCentuari!Crowley because of where they both were at in the moment. It just makes 2.06 even more brutal because it shows you how they do understand each other and how right they are for each other if they could just stop being idiots lol.

I also actually think this is one of the most intimate scenes in the show. It shows a lot of guts on Aziraphale's part to be honest about how he's feeling and that's courage that Aziraphale has in general but was lacking a bit in the present in S2. He lets Crowley in here-- which is the theme of all of it and what he's not doing in S2 very much, especially in 2.06-- and we get a scene where Aziraphale is vulnerable and hurting and trusts Crowley with it and Crowley is there to help him as much as Aziraphale helps Crowley. It's very sweet and romantic but in a heartbreaking way because of how it shows how much pain Aziraphale is carrying around with him all the time. The lovely bit, though, is how it also shows how Crowley knows and is trusted with it. That it all takes place in largely the same space as the mess in 2.06? Gah. Devastating...

The other storyline that broke me was Gabriel. I know not everyone has the empathy for him that I do and he can be a total jerk, no doubt, but I thought he was the best example of the show bringing in other perspectives on life in Heaven/Hell in S2. We had angles like Furfur and Muriel illustrating that life for those not on Earth is lonely, isolating and boring and that many are yearning to live a bit more. Crowley and Aziraphale have not had it easy by any means but we are given characters whose perspective is that they're jealous that Crowley and Aziraphale have at least been able to be on Earth and have one another this whole time, which is more than a lot of other angels and demons can say, and that's fair. Expanding upon the glimpses of Gabriel that we saw in S1 and showing that, really, he's more complicated than we might have expected, was something I both loved and was a bit broken by.

Essentially, S2 shows that Gabriel is actually arguably the worst off character of all of them-- Crowley and Aziraphale included. That he really had no one until Beez is shown on his face so well-- Jon Hamm and Shelley Conn selling Gabriel's depression and how healthy this relationship is in almost no time at all really shows how great they both are. Look at this poor bastard, though, really...

He has the worst job of all of them. The Metatron is really in charge of Heaven-- Gabriel's the pretty face, forced to keep everything going or be killed for disobeying. S2 emphasizes how much he and Beez did what they did at the end of S1 basically at gunpoint-- it was kill or be killed and neither of them have the power to overthrow anything on their own. They have enough power, in the future, to probably help sway some things. Gabriel's always had enough power to make differences where he could and he used it to try to protect people. He can be a judgy jerk but he also fundamentally cares about the people around him and he's been drilled for so long into believing that upholding Heaven is his only purpose and only reason for existence that he's even still mulling over the ghosts of those thoughts when he has his whole gravity crisis in S2, even when he can't remember his name.

This is the bit that got me actually teary, though:

Imagine being thousands of years old and no one's ever given you a present. You don't have a birthday. You don't celebrate holidays. No one's ever protected you or been on your side or even just listened. You don't have any friends because everyone is afraid of you and you have to put up those pretensions to stay alive. The people you spend your entire life with are out for blood-- they'd sooner see you stripped of your sense of self and tossed through the ranks or to Hell and take your seat. Your life is one, long, never-ending meeting with your abusive dad and charming personalities like Michael and Uriel and Sandalphon. For six. thousand. years. Gabriel had never eaten anything before S2. He's never slept. Imagine six thousand years of being the Senior VP of Climb Every Bullshit Mountain without ever having a lunch break or ever going home. It's kind of no wonder that Gabriel spent half of S2 taking a nap-- he's exhausted.

He's not from anywhere. He doesn't even have a desk. Is it any wonder that this poor bastard was already rebelling a bit in S1? That he didn't totally get Earth but he was sneaking down there to get tailored suits made just so he could have something that is his own and taking himself for jogs in the park so he could get away from everyone for awhile? He's vain, sure, yes, but really because his looks are all he has that actually belong to him. It's why Beez gives him a pass on the statue-- because they know that this poor guy doesn't have anybody but them. The humans immortalize him in marble like he's a God and everyone in Heaven and Hell is terrified of him-- and he's been terrified of trying to be real with others because who is he going to trust who won't stab him in the back?

All Gabriel has that is his own are his clothes and Heaven even takes that, too. Beez is the first person who has ever seen Gabriel as a person. Is it any wonder why Gabriel likes and goes to Aziraphale for help? He knows that Aziraphale is the only angel who is both kind and sorta sees him there sometimes. He's the only one who ever seems to consider that Gabriel might exist in there as more than just The Supreme Archangel.

Gabriel's memory loss is actually very much akin to the real world occurrence of retrograde amnesia, which can and does actually happen to people who have undergone traumatic events. (It doesn't happen all the time but it's also not as rare as you'd think it might be.) The mind shuts down in such a way as to intentionally forget everything related to the trauma in order to protect itself and that can sometimes result in a loss of identity. The forgetting, though, also frees Gabriel because when he can no longer recall the fascist system of Heaven that has been harming him for so long, the actual self that he's been repressing and hiding shows up.

I see a lot of people talk about Jim as if he's a separate entity from Gabriel and he's really not-- he's Gabriel without the self-protective airs that Gabriel puts on. Jim is really not much different from glasses-free Crowley-- they have the same approach to self-preservation. It turns out, when he's free from the toxic masculinity hellscape that is Heaven, Gabriel likes hot chocolate and tiny dinners and bookselling and is emotionally available and mindfully curious about everything. He's a lot of fun and he cares about his friends and is grateful to have them. He's still a snarky bitch sometimes but so is Crowley lol so... That Gabriel was so miserable before, though, I thought was really pretty heartbreaking.

Now that I've depressed you, we'll leave on the sweeter note of Gabriel torturing some humans to romance Beez...

[moorishflower]

A Fridge Full of Jam

Having a bad memory day today and so I wrote it out w/Dream

Sorry fav blorbo you get to experience the Horrors

He is walking back home from the park when he gets the text from Hob.

Cottage pie for din love

Could u pick up 1 large onion + sum garlic on way home? ta

Dream looks at the message. There is a corner market between where he currently stands, stock still on the kerb, and the New Inn, where Hob currently is. He could, quite reasonably, stop there and purchase the items that Hob has requested of him.

Another message comes through as he is contemplating.

Sum tomato paste too pls

I love you!

He finds himself smiling at this last text. Hob has had many, many years to perfect shorthand of all varieties, but he has never once shortened 'I love you.' It is always the full declamatory sentence, complete with full stop or exclamation. There is something heart-rendingly lovely about it.

Dream stops at the corner market on his way back. Hob has furnished him with an identity of his own, now that he is human, complete with debit card, and money to make purchases, and a driver's license that he still hesitates to make use of.

(He once knew how to operate a car in theory, but that, along with billions of years' worth of other knowledge, is one of the things lost to him now that he is human.)

The market is not busy this time of day. Summer has come upon London, blanketing the great city in a smog of humidity and incipient rain. It is the sort of weather to drive most people indoors, where they might at least seek the relief of a fan, but Dream is not bothered. He is cold, almost always, and it is during weather such as this that he is allowed the luxury of short sleeves. During weather like this, he takes long walks in solitude, and goes to the park to feed the birds, and sometimes there are other travelers to accompany him, but more often than not he is alone.

He prefers that, some days. The crush of humanity is not nearly so pressing now that he no longer contains all of its dreams and nightmares within his own head, but it is sometimes, still, overwhelming.

Dream checks his phone. One large onion, garlic, and tomato paste. Is there anything else that they need while he is here? Strawberry jam, perhaps. He eats it on his toast each morning, so they are bound to be almost out. There is a specific garlic-parmesan salad dressing that Hob likes, and which this market happens to carry. He picks up a bottle and puts it in his basket, along with a jar of jam. Do they have crisps at home? He thinks they do, but is it the sort that he likes, or is it the sort that Hob likes? Hob prefers sharp flavours. Tomato. Salt and cider vinegar. Dream enjoys simple fare. He picks up a bag of Walkers 'roast chicken' crisps and studies it, then drops it into the bag.

He moves down the aisle.

The clouds have broken by the time he leaves the market, though not for the better. Rain patters in the gutters, dampens his hair and sticks it to his skull as Dream hurries home, a shopping bag in each hand. The New Inn is not far, but it is far enough that he is wet through when he ascends the steps to its front door, stamping his feet to knock loose any mud or debris that might cling to his boots.

"Welcome to the–oh, hullo, Dream," the hostess says. She is a petite, smart young woman named Anne. Once, he would have known her greatest fantasies. Now Dream knows that she attends university at King's, and that she had Hob for one of her professors last term, and that she is somewhere in her early twenties...and that is all. "Out doing a bit of shopping?"

"Hob is making cottage pie," he tells her. She smiles. Hob's employees – they are not technically his employees, but they all refer to themselves as such – observe his relationship with the Inn's proprietor as though they are a much-beloved television show. It is strange, to be the subject of a story in which his own opinion is entirely unwanted.

"Enjoy," Anne says, and Dream nods at her, and ascends the stairs to the second floor, which Hob has claimed as his own. The front door is unlocked, and so Dream lets himself in.

"That you, love?" he hears, floating from the kitchen. Dream follows the sound of it, stopping in the doorway. Hob is there, standing over the stovetop, a pot of water boiling and the pale, oblong shapes of several peeled potatoes bobbing about within. When he looks up, he smiles. "'Course it is, you never answer right away."

"I will endeavor to do so in future," Dream says. He sets the bags on the table and begins to unpack them, laying the items he purchased in a neat row so that he may put them away with utmost expedience. Hob temporarily disengages from the stovetop to look over his shoulder.

"Jam?" he asks, reaching around Dream's hip in order pick up the jar. "We've already got jam."

Dream peers at it. He uses it so often. Every day. He tries to think of how much had been in the jar when he had taken it out of the fridge that morning, but draws a blank. "But...I eat it every day," he says. His voice, even to his own ears, has the unpleasant texture of a whine. Plaintive. Hob takes him by the hand and leads him to the fridge.

"See?" he says, and there, in the fridge door, is not only one, but two jars of strawberry jam. One is not even opened. "Remember? You bought more a week ago."

He does not remember. It had happened a week ago. Dream stares at the jars. His hands feel very loose; he is suddenly glad that it is Hob who is holding the new (the third) jar, because he thinks if it were him he would have dropped it by now.

"I...forgot," he says. In that moment, in the aisle, it had seemed impossible that they should have enough. He uses it every day. It had not even crossed his mind that he might have already bought some earlier.

"Hey," Hob says. "Come here. It's all right, yeah? We'll find a recipe to use jam. It's fine." He puts the jar down on the counter, and Dream finds himself being drawn into a hug. The kitchen is steam-warm, and Hob smells like raw potatoes and fresh herbs. Dream presses his nose to the curve of Hob's neck and blinks back useless tears.

"I forgot," he says again. Hob runs a soothing palm up and down his spine.

"You know," Hob says, "I read something the NHS published a bit ago...about how depression affects memory? Basically, how prolonged periods of, ah, stress and anxiety can stunt how your brain makes new short term memories?"

Dream tries to tug away, but finds himself held fast. Hob's hand splays flat against the small of his back.

"It's all right," he says. "It is. You were...I mean, my memories of after Robyn died are like Swiss cheese. And you had all that great big Endlessness to rely on before, but now...it makes sense, is all I'm saying. And it's all right."

Dream makes a sound – he is not wholly certain it is a dignified sound, nor good-tempered – and this time does not try to pull away, but buries his face into Hob's clavicle.

"How do you stand it?" he asks. He means the wild swing of moods. He means the instability. He means the being human of it all. But there is no easy answer to any of these questions. The shortest, of course, is 'you just do.'

"Lists help," Hob says. "Alarms. Things like that. And sometimes you just roll with the punches." He sways to the side, hooking his fingers around the jar of strawberry jam and making room for it in the fridge door. "Sometimes you've got three jars of jam."

(Later, when they are eating their cottage pie sans tomato paste, because Dream had remembered he liked roast chicken crisps but not the final thing that Hob had asked of him, he will try to reflect on the wisdom of this. Love, he will think, is an unlocked front door, a sentence with a full stop, and a fridge full of jam.)

[dufferpuffer]

In continuation of the 'pillow prince/ss/' topic.. Snape sex hcs? I remember you said it's basically impossible to drag him into bed but I'D TRY.

You're just spoiling me, aren'tcha? First Remus now Sev... Severus Snape is devoted to duty. Its the only thing holding him together. How often does he even go to bed…? A full-time teacher, a spy, a death eater, Dumbledore's dark little knight - He probably considers the time he spends marking 'rest enough'.

His self-esteem is dead. So dead he has come to terms with its corpse and uses it as protection. He's been teased his entire life for his looks. By his parents, by his schoolmates, by his teachers, by his cult, by his students... He's proud of how it has hardened him. It's become part of his ego: He's heard it all before - and now the words run off his oily feathers like raindrops.

Having someone say they think him anything less than hideous? Baffling. But while Remus would become a flustered mess... I think Severus would stages-of-grief it. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression… Because his romantic, affectionate side is also a corpse. It died alongside his best friend and he's spent the last decade-and-a-half making sure it stays buried.

To bring it back? That will take a stubborn dedication that rivals his. It takes grit and damn near necromancy. He will fight back, too - because to raise it from the dead is to raise Lily along with it. That is the greatest hurdle: Best friend or love of his life - either way she was the only person he has been affectionate with. He will need to digest that. He hasn't worked through his grief yet, because it is a difficult thing to work through alone. …but he CAN reach Acceptance.

One step, one stage at a time - peeling down each layer of his onion, like an ogre... Things move slowly with Severus - and in the opposite order you might expect. I guess I will go through what a relationship would be like with Severus, in a sorta dot-point fanfic format:

First note: He is allergic to showing weakness - and what he considers a weakness can be... strange. Indulgence. Emotions, affection, touch, company - he has no time for that garbage. He is in control of himself, of his body, of his feelings, of his life. Meticulous, complete control. This man 'tops' exclusively**

He is ashamed of masturbation. It means he has lost control of his emotions - and it grinds against his ego like sandpaper. He almost never does it. Thinking about anyone in particular when doing it is an insult to them - and he hates feeling guilty. He keeps it simple and almost self-harmingly dry. He has more important things to be doing with his time than engaging with this weakness…

You make your interest in him clear. He goes through everything - he belittles and denies your feelings, he gets angry with you for bothering him, he asks you to stop saying such nonsense... and he gets frustrated that even when you've finally shut up, he is STILL dwelling on it. He spends so long just tossing things up, sorting through his grief, imagining it... so, SO sick of jerking off… …when the dam bursts - he fucks. If he is going to be spending all this time obsessing over these stupid feelings he may as well get something out of it. Only sex, though. Sex he is in control of. Clothes on, greedy, not pretty, not nice. 'Thats what you wanted from me, yes? Well you've gotten it. Happy?!?' ((He does not expect the answer to be 'yes'.))

He thinks one time was too many, and did it only to take it off his mind - and to stop having you bother him about it. But it is easier for you to get him to do it a second time. And then a third... fourth... The more times it happens - and nothing embarrassing or bad follows... well, if he has done it once, he may as well do it more, right…? You are evidently trustworthy. '…You may come to my chambers IF I call - at no other times. I am too busy to play silly games.' A casual physical relationship - to solve a problem of distraction and concentration. That's all.

He does start to call. Occasionally at first - and every time he almost shows surprise that you actually turn up. But he gets less and less surprised... and starts getting more and more needy. 'You're late. I sent for you half an hour ago. Do you think I am made of time?!' He doesn't even realize how needy he sounds, because this activity is now ingrained in his routine. He is used to it. And because he is used to it: He touches more. More clothes come off. But never his own. He has gone from 'hands-on-waist' fucking to caressing your naked body - slow rolls of his hips, making his own breathe shudder, enjoying every sensation.

One day his summons aren't replied to. At first he angry. How dare you. How DARE you waste his time!? The next time they are alone he snaps at you bitterly. 'Finally tired of me? Got your fill? Met a better man?' When the response is more along the lines of 'I was a bit ill' or 'I was out'... he realizes he has shown far too much of his hand. How embarrassing. He is speechless at his own foolishness. He showed an inch of vulnerability and expects to be raked through the coals for it. ...What he doesn't expect is acceptance, tenderness and respect.

He had forgotten that he wasn't the one to initiate this arrangement - that he was wanted. Desired. In his mind he had taken control: Everything happened when he wanted, where he wanted and in whichever way he wished. To be touched in a friendly way? To he apologized to - for being made to worry? To have make-up sex offered…? '…Yes. Alright.' Its the next layer peeled off. He starts listening to offers, enjoying being asked instead of being answered. It's still a casual affair - and yet seeing them talk to other people no longer makes his hackles raise in concern for his secrets. Running into them in the morning no longer makes his skin crawl with shame and embarrassment for the night before. He feels excited when they pay a visit in the midday, offering an impromptu meeting. It is oddly... comfortable.

Of course it can't always be sex in the midday. It is too much effort, takes too much time, energy and clean-up. It suits him fine when you jump on the chance to put him in your mouth. At first he is a little taken-aback - but it feels nice. He says nothing other than contented hums, but as you get better he groans and arcs his back a little. He doesn't care what happens when he finishes - swallow or not, as long as it is not a mess for him to clean up. …Well, he tries to be that callous about it… but it doesn't last long. There is a tenderness to the act he can't deny. It isn't the mutual-benefit fucking. This is a gift for him to enjoy. That realization settles and festers in him. It creates a soft feeling he doesn't recognize... and a desire not to owe you anything.

So, without much fanfare: he reciprocates. He gets you on his seat, or on his desk, and gets down on his knees... He is a little nervous about it - when was the last time he did this, if ever…? - But he has no need to be. He is a god with his mouth. It's his attention to detail. His devotion to getting things done thoroughly and properly - even this. What starts as an embarrassing action from the weakness of his heart turns into a strong pleasure for him. He LOVES oral. It isn't him losing control: it's him gaining it. Even when his hair is gripped and yanked, even if he is pulled close and suffocated a little on you - HE is making that happen. HE is making you do that. He never expected this to make him so happy, so hot. He never expected to undo the buttons of his high collar so his neck could move more easily, to unbutton and fold up his right sleeve so he could get his hands messy... To have enough fun to start saying some truly dirty things… 'That good, is it~?' 'My-! How delicate you are today!' 'Stop squirming. Too sensitive…? Just grit your teeth and bear it.' ...and he didn't expect to not be laughed at for such things.

He certainly didn't expect to get so into it that he kissed you to shut you up as you came. A shock to both of you… another wall crumbled. Turns out he likes that too. He starts initiating sexual activity with a kiss. He prefers kissing to talking. It is succinct and expressive. Walk into his office: as soon as the door is shut your back is pressed against it, wrists in his hands, his mouth against yours. If he starts losing control of the kiss he gently bites your lip, dragging his teeth along it teasingly. Your tongue invades his mouth before he has a chance to do it first: he just about shoves your hands into his robes, tearing into your clothes... This man lives for kissing now.

But he still doesn't realize this is more than casual, that this is something he needs… Until you chat. Its a quiet moment. You comment on the parchments rolled at the edge of his desk. 'Oh - that is just my own research into the effects of aconite. I had to work with it extensively a few years ago.' You take an interest, and he starts regaling deeper and deeper into his studies: how poorly documented others' research is; how it reacts to other ingredients; how modern brewing processes can draw so much more out of it - 'you know, the plant is often just passed off as toxic when even basic purification charms are enough to-' ...He is blabbering. On and on about a dull topic nobody cares about… yet you are listening. His jaw drops a little. He realizes that, for the first time in two decades, someone cares. Someone truly cares. About HIM. His thoughts, his interests... He never thought he could have this again. He didn't think that for the sex, either - but sex, compared to this, was easy to procure. He wants to kiss you again. But not for lust this time.

Suddenly it doesn't feel so embarrassing to allow his eyes to become wet, to draw a shuddering breathe as he builds the courage - of which he has masses of - to say something important: '…I am afraid I have come to love you.' It is a terrifying thing to say, but he has never once shied away from saying what is important, even if it results in pain. And yet this time, for once… he feels like he can trust that it wont.

** Many times later, he is laying down as his shirt gets unbuttoned, his collarbone kissed... He doesn't feel ashamed, even as he gently strokes his own dick, encouraging it to harden. He pulls his arms from his shirt sleeves, fearless of his dark mark being exposed. For once work is at the back of his mind as he allows himself to be pushed back down to into the pillows, chuckling as he is told: 'Shh… just lay still darling… I'll take care of you tonight…' ...And he does. Control well out of his hands and a smile on his face.

[da-shrimping-station]

Cooking for the House of Lamentation

Let me start this post by saying that over the years I've had plenty of experience cooking for a lot of people. I'm no expert cook whatsoever, just a helping hand in the kitchen during festivals and occasions (which happens multiple times in a year). If you have more experience and insights, please feel free to share!

Let’s start this off by having some sort of baseline so we’re all on the same page.

MC /OC/you/us/we (and what have you) can:

follow a recipe well enough

be in the kitchen and not have it burn down

cook an edible meal at the end of it all

A fairly average cook if you will.

Now, time for chaos.

Cooking for a lot of people is…a lot. A feast for upwards of 10 people can take the whole day. Not to mention buying ingredients beforehand. How many dishes are you gonna cook? Do they go well/compliment each other? What’s the serving size? Are you gonna have desserts too? Do you have the right equipment? Are the ingredients available/accessible? Is there anyone who has a food-specific condition to look out for and make alternatives for? Are there ingredients that need to be marinated/prepped in advanced? Is everything within budget? (These are some questions at the top of my head)

Now the main concern here is volume/quantity. Beelzebub. Need I say more?

Actually, YES. It’s a house full of men. Men eat a lot. Oh, and they’re also demons. So let’s assume they eat/consume significantly more than humans. (You can pitch in your HCs for each brother regarding how much they eat) But let’s say the food has to be for 10-15 people at the very least.

GROCERY RUN!

There’s a whole ass booklet for the groceries, with each brother having their own page/section. Let’s assume there’s no budget constraints (Lucifer can bitch about the cost and budgeting but his brothers need to be fed). Groceries are bought in bulk. Multiple times a week. Emergency trips in the middle of the night or else they starve for breakfast. 

At some point they get their groceries delivered every 3 days or so. The runs are now for necessity/emergency.

But if a brother requests a certain dish, then it’s time to go to the market. Prepare your haggling skills.

THE BATTLEFIELD

Based off of the game (and referencing the floor plan from Wanderer’s Whereabouts), the kitchen is actually pretty spacious. Good. We need all the space we can get for this. I’d like to think Barbatos personally made sure the kitchen is fully kitted out with all the equipment and utensils one needs. (Thanks, Barbs. You’re the best!) No worries on that end.

I headcanon that the kitchen is split into 2 parts: the side where the stoves and appliances are and the side where the dirty kitchen is. That way you have access to stoves/ovens and the fancy appliances as well as being able to cook with coal or in a spit. Increases the capacity for cooking multiple dishes at once. (Please share your HCs for the kitchen!)

PREP TIME

Prepare your hands and arms. Washing, peeling, chopping, dicing, slicing, marinating. Any and every sort of ingredient prep. How many ingredients does this dish have? Are you gonna prep one dish only? Are you gonna prep for two in advance? Mis en place (or whatever the term is im no culinary shrimp)

Also think about the sheer amount of ingredients.

Say, according to the cookbook, this dish serves 5 people and it needs 1 whole onion. Pretty straight forward right? But you’re cooking for 7 demon brothers and one being the Avatar of Gluttony. Let’s go back to the 10-15 people approximation. That means you have to increase the amount (in this case that’ll be 2 or 3 whole onions). That goes for every fucking dish. 3 onions for dish #1. What about dish #2 and #3 and so on? (Honestly, your hands must be well marinated by the time you’re done with all the prep)

Measuring the ingredients too. 1 cup of this, a tablespoon of that, a pinch of this. Please please please let there be enough soy sauce for tonight’s cooking.

Another thing: you’re probably dealing with local Devildom ingredients (which you did not even know existed until then)

Veggies? Sliced

Meats? Washed and cut.

Condiments and seasonings? All measured.

Are we ready to cook? NO.

Please clean up the peels, excesses, undesirables, and packaging.

GET THE FIRE GOING

Finally! The actual cooking part! Take a deep breath and put that pot on the stove. Good luck cuz you’re gonna be juggling between multiple dishes just to be able to get ready for dinnertime.

One dish is boiling so the meat softens? Time to fry. Oh and have you checked the one you were marinating? Please add that to the veggies in dish #2. Don’t overcook the pasta for dish #1! Please adjust the heat, that pot is boiling over. Taste test for dish #3. Hhm needs more salt. Is the meat soft enough? Good, let's season it. Please mind the fire! You’re gonna char the one you’re frying. This one has marinated long enough, we can add it to dish #2. Take dish #1 off the heat. I think it’s done. Do you think this is fried well enough?

It’s hectic. It’s a mess and a half. You make sure nothing is overcooked or undercooked. Taste test to make sure everything tastes fine. (are the dishes safe for human consumption tho)

ALL DONE!(?)

You wish! Now you have to deal with the clean up!

Wash everything you used for cooking. Pots, pans, knives, measuring cups and spoons, plates and bowls you put the ingredients in, the tasting spoons you used, the ladles and spatulas, etc

Please clean the stoves, sinks, countertops/tabletops too.

Oh yea, put away the excess ingredients and return the condiments and seasonings.

You still there? Still got energy to study and do homework later?

Personally, i clean as i go whenever i have the time in between tending to the dishes. I hate hate hate a messy/dirty kitchen while i cook it makes me wanna rage

DINNERTIME

These fuckers better sit down and eat what you cooked. No. Who the fuck cares if someone is being rowdy or moody or being dramatic. NO ONE wastes your efforts in preparing the food. Sit down and EAT.

I mean alright, maybe you can tag team dinner prep but it’s still a lot in terms of quantity and sheer volume. Will that brother be of actual help in the kitchen?

To sum it all up,

May the Universe have mercy on MC when they’re on cooking duty.

[gothicprep]

I know it’s sort of gauche to comment on how other people organize stuff like domestic division of labor in their marriages, but whenever social media shows me little vignettes of how other couples manage this stuff, I don’t know how to process it. the calculus obviously changes when you have children, but it’s the tone that weirds me out.

personally, I don’t see cooking as a chore. I like doing it. i like doing something sort of mindless when I’m stressed. and between my wife and me, I have significantly better knife skills than she does. so I’m much faster at it.

she’s like my opposite when it comes to deep-ish cleans. i personally find it unpleasant. she’ll just put her headphones on and rock out with her headphones on while she’s vacuuming and making sure the toilet isn’t radioactive. can’t relate, although it’s probably a similar feeling to what I get when I have a stressful day and go all o-ren ishii on an innocent onion.

stuff like “who puts the laundry away” is sort of circumstance dependent. depends on which one of us is more swamped with work related things.

I think many long term relationships have a similar vibe. but it’s the aggressively type-a stuff I find so off-putting. i get the overwhelming feeling that when you have this sort of rigidity in your partnership, it’s going to leave you ill-prepared for situations where your partner genuinely needs your help. it might be something like a nasty depressive episode. it might be something like a recovery period from a medical procedure, or god forbid, an illness. especially in the context of a marriage, you need to have the breathing room that allows you to adjust for these possibilities.

maybe I’m overthinking it, but stuff like this doesn’t translate to “happy marriage” to me. It’s more like watching the beginning phases of One of Those divorces where people are fighting over silverware and shit.

[snailyman]

surprised that i havent seen any posts about how the rescue base camp is Autism Central

so many of the castaways have fun little quirks and they are Very Normal about their interests, hence why they dropped everything to go to a mystery planet in the hopes of discovering things about their Specific Field Of Study

Outside of just listing every castaway's special interest, specific highlights are:

Bernard - Has a distinct speaking style that implies poor volume control. Seems to not pick up on social cues (entirely unaware that Santi doesn't like him), might be poor at communicating tone himself. Invented a meal-in-a-cup one time, and is also a picky eater, so he probably has sensory issues.

Pitunia - I'm certain that at one point, she only gave me one (1) line (she started telling me more about her Onion Theories later on), telling me to go away so she could study the onion.

Komo - Makes comments about being bad at conversation and making eye contact - her dialogue is written with a pretty flat/monotone tone of voice. Talks a lot about her study of water. Not Even Subtle.

Twyla - Talks about being overwhelmed by the environment. Seems to prefer theory to practical work, mostly because she hates to get dirty.

Kit - Loves to talk about geology!! Uses cute themed terms like "oh pebbles". Needs to be super thorough and exhaustive with his papers, so he submits them a bit slowly... he also frequently apologises for when he starts to infodump :(

François - He wants to be friends with plants.......... the trait of, like, relating to/preferring the company of non-human things......

Sheeba - Is very dedicated when she decides to do something, and seems to be pretty insistent on doing things the way she thinks is correct, sometimes to the point of (self-perceived) pushiness.

Keesh - Infodumps about geology to Kaia. Likes planning and scheduling, and struggles when her plans are disrupted. Enjoys Kaia's company while "quietly working"/not really interacting (parallel play type behaviour).

Chowder - So absorbed in his real-estate work, he rushes into dangerous locales, and works through the entire night, but misses social cues (expected his other workers to have the same work ethic until he was informed otherwise).

Molly - Uses personal language that doesn't have an obvious meaning (describes things as POPping a lot), makes "weird" content but doesn't get why it's perceived that way. Seems to follow trends without entirely understanding them.

Beaux - Super dedicated to acting. Needs real life experience to fully get into a role - maybe either a perfectionism thing (he needs to get every detail right), or that he struggles to imagine things.

Grace - Speaks in her own whimsical way. Mentions not doing well with noisy environments. Much prefers to be in her own environment in space.

Horatio - I dunno it's just vibes.

Bonus ADHD haver Kaia - spaces out frequently, forgets tasks and struggles to work on things long-term, has poor impulse control, struggles with planning ahead and with studying more complex subjects.

i wonder what else other players might have picked up on :)

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls- 3x9-Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving- Part 1

It's 6:30am on the 4th of July. It feels like as a good a time as any to write about a Thanksgiving episode. I am quite fond of this episode, it's one of my favorites. It includes a historical first: which is Lorelai being kinda nice to Jess? Hooray! It's a Thanksgiving miracle! But off to the house fire with him again for Black Friday. I cannot, however, even in the spirit of Julyskiving, be nice to Lorelai when describing this episode. This is, after all, the "Just because you and Rory broke up doesn't mean we did" episode. Would you mind taking a Niceness Raincheck, Lorelai? I doubt it will be useful in s3. For the time being, just accept all of the comedic verbal beatdowns that you have coming from me. On with Julyskiving.

Jess can sympathize with Pete. But he's beating his meat instead of eggs. This one is a bit borderline, but it qualifies for a check on the "thinly veiled sexual reference" square on my Bingo Card. I cannot take my eyes off this mug Michel is holding and "sipping" from because it's the emptiest Empty Mug I've seen so far on this show. I've seen some empty cups on this show but dang, this one is empty.

Me looking for love in all the wrong places.

Heh heh. We learn that Lorelai has faked illness and poor cellphone reception (that's not terribly hard in 2002, the year of our lord) to try and weasel out of the last two FND's. Why, you ask? Because she's still hopping mad at Emily and Richard for...taking Rory on a trip to look at a school that wasn't Harvard. Emily Gilmore, the Queen that she is, lays down that in no uncertain terms that Lorelai will have to spend Thanksgiving doing FND. Emily won’t allow Lorelai get in a word in edgewise, complain, or protest 🫡 so Lorelai lays down like a dog and submits. I love to see it.

*checks off "Millennial Pop Culture Reference" on the Bingo Card* Have I mentioned how much I love the 35 year old extras playing high school students?

Not anymore he ain't. Just ride it out for another 3 short years. girl. Reese will be history by 2006. He never married again, either. "Is it me, or did everything the teacher say sound dirty? I mean come on, reticulum? The golgi body? Does that sound majorly pornographic or what?" Heh heh. Yeah. I'm scandalized by the use of the word "pornographic" on this wholesome show. We learn that Louise's father is in prison for an unspecified crime. I love Madelyn & Louise lore, don't you? Paris wanted to volunteer at a soup kitchen to pad her Ivy League resume but no one would take her. She will be ever so lonely on Thanksgiving and needs a place to spend the holiday. *bats eyelashes at Rory* Madelyn plans to spend Thanksgiving filling out applications for safety schools. Paris agres that is incredbly important to weigh as many options as possible when applying to colleges. Rory, meanwhile , remembers that just a short while ago, her Mommy had a nuclear meltdown in public and shut her grandparents out for weeks over the mere idea of her even looking at or thinking about a backup school. Much like the time she realized she forgot to enroll in extra cirricular activities, this is someone who is quietly contemplating just how badly she's boned. Academically speaking.

Paris receives a return call on her ancient cellphone from a soup kitchen, with whom she tries to wrangle a volunteer opportunity. This is how Rory looks at Paris angrily ranting at a charitable organization:

Paris may not be able to pad her college application by helping the needy this year, but she will always be a volunteer in the soup kitchen of Rory's heart.

OMG. Could it be? Is that...the window concession stand from s1?

IT IS! IT IS! I love that little guy! I thought the fragile small town economy had swallowed up another beloved business! You ladies are just gonna walk past and not pick me up a fiesta burger and onion rings, huh? Besides snubbing a small business that has to compete with Luke's and could really use the help, ahem, Rory and Lorelai's Thanksgiving itinerary includes dinner at the elder gilmores, Sookie's, Lane's, and Luke's. They then decide to cut Luke from their schedule, because ol Grumpy Gus doesn't care about holidays and he won't miss them.

And so what if he did? Peace and harmony will be achieved when the people of The Hollow are free and able to be their true and authentic sexual selves.

None of which they'll pay for.

"Such a food rut we're in!" Concession Stand Guy would like a word.

Ya'll are just filthy. You're making jokes about stuffing each other a day before this wholesome holiday. Continue. Please. Lorelai informs Luke that they can't make it for Thanksgiving tomorrow. He seems quietly shattered. *Mr Lonely plays*

Perhaps you can un-disappoint him by paying for your food. So moved were the Gilmore GIrls by Luke's rare, almost visible display of emotion, that they decide they can work him into their schedule after all.

Batten down the hatches, guy. The Gilmores are coming. To your restaurant. Just like they do every day. Multiple times a day. Sometimes after you've already closed. Always eating, never paying.

Rory emptied two beach pails of Ben and Jerry's ice cream in one sitting after Dean dumped her. She ain't wrong. Stay tuned for the next chapter where I will explore the re-appearance of the vomit green puffy coat, Rory's continued pre occupation with Dean, Lorelai's continued pre occupation with Dean (the re emergence of the DALA), comedic thoughts about Black Friday, and much more.

[daily-hanamura]

Hi! Do you have any souyo fics you would like to recommend?

HELLO @littlebalsam OH BOY DO I

as a caveat I consider myself to still be relatively new to souyo, so I haven't read too many fics? but these were some of my favourites and I hope you enjoy them too!

some of these fics may have mature themes (p4 is a mature game after all) so please check the rating/tags!

a doorway back into the life he wants by chash

Rated T; a stardew valley-esque AU that somewhat follows the beats of their original story, but sees the characters as grown-ups dealing with Life (TM), with Yosuke as the manager of Junes and Souji taking over his grandfather's farm in Inaba. There's a kind of mature calmness to the atmosphere here that is both gentle and delicate, and the result is something so very gorgeous.

(and honestly, anything written by Chash has been 11/10)

mr perfect by unsungillumination

Rated G; where Yu has to work on his social stats in order to confess to yosuke - the writing here is SO beautiful and there's something so wonderfully emotional about Yu's pining here (I adore any fic that makes use of game mechanics as a plot point lol)

sharing is caring by hydrocarbon (dontrollthedice)

Rated T; where Souji learns to share (and learns what jealousy feels like when he doesn't want to) - any fic with possessive/jealous Souji is a good fic and this one was so spectacularly well done that I still think about it for days

the boy who leapt through time by MrRee

Rated T; time-travel AU where Yosuke has the ability to jump through time and struggles to create a happy ending for everyone. Yosuke's characterization here is so perfect and beautiful, and the fic is very poignant and emotional during the entire ride, but I promise the payoff is absolutely worth it.

summer lessons by thenotwriter

Rated T; "kissing practice", where Yosuke is perhaps a little oblivious, but he learns something along the way. Yu is so very patient and Yosuke is a very very lucky boy. This fic is sweet, fluffy overload and I am not complaining one bit.

just like the classics by kiwoa (Rinoa)

Rated G; Yosuke finally coming to terms about his feelings. I really love fics where Yosuke struggles a little but also when there's a contradiction between what he says and what he does, and this fic was just so cute about it!

for now (or; how to teach your boyfriend to cut an onion in five easy steps) by tattedmariposa

Rated T; Yu teaches Yosuke how to cook. If you've spent any amount of time on this blog/with me you would know how much of a sucker I am for fics that feature food as a metaphor for love - the playful, knowing banter between them juxtaposes beautifully with the bittersweet tone, and it made me so very very soft.

under cover by chromsama

Rated G; another adorable fic where Yu and Yosuke share umbrellas. I don't recall if I've posted about the umbrella scene before but I've adored it since day 1 and this fic made it something so much more. Yosuke needs a little help arriving at certain realisations, but when he does it's absolutely brilliant. I also really love the way Yosuke plays off with Kanji here, and I love how some thing can be so simple yet so impactful!

gravity's how we got here by ashley-amelie (kitana)

Rated M; same theme of first kisses in the guise of "kissing practice", a theme that I am so weak for and could read a hundred million times. I adore the careful, tentative atmosphere in fics like these, and again, YOSUKE IS A VERY VERY LUCKY BOY.

your loving is all i think about by nedrika

Rated M; yu somehow manages to read minds, and reading yosuke's teaches him something interesting. it's kind of a naughty fic so I won't go into too much detail, but it's great and that's all i'm gonna say on the subject.

and finally, absolutely feel free to reblog with your own additions!!

[cjoat-boost]

March 4, 2024 Edit of this still relevant post from February 27, 2024

For those that view any of my online presences (including my blogs)…Um, this is something for you to know.

Please save this post so it doesn’t get buried by queue.

My& Current Health Situation

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I wish to communicate this to y’all now so that…I don’t end up worrying anyone when this happens. It may have been noticeable by some folks that I’m dragging, heavily. I’m not having a good time right now with my body. With this comes with an onion of issues detailing certain aspects of what I’m going through.

I know I have a lot of obligations. Not only as a creative and content creator; but as a friend, a mentor, Guardian or even older peer, and myself. I’ve neglected myself for too long. I have been noticing my vitality decrease; and my CFS and POTS flaring up further.

Social Justice is something I’m always perceiving and sensitive to; and as such, the strain I’ve noticed too late has been worsening. Includes many emotional meltdowns and outbursts from me that I can no longer control or hold back.

Trying to figure out how to exactly sort through the mass tangles of my traumatized emotional and mental state isn’t as simple as I hoped for me. While I’m creatively burned out, I am suffering Autistic burnout. A double whammy of all things.

I’m finding myself getting “stuck,” unable to physically move for hours at a time. I’d move upstairs to eat something but end up being there for what’s normally an half hour task…for nearly 2+ hours. Even so, trying to force movement to do tasks that is considered “everyone can do these” is mentally painful and physically locking. Even if I have to desperately use the bathroom when I’m about to fall asleep, my headmates (AKA alters) have to switch to co-front or “snatch me back” in order to get my body moving. That’s with the sudden rocket spike in heart rate and blood pressure, and loss of balance (at the very least).

I’m already struggling to cope with many things due to the fact that I haven’t been able to draw much at all; or create anything and write anything. Especially trying desperately to fulfill my word on things I had the energy to do, but no longer do. So much of my struggles I can’t properly transmute. It’s so upsetting.

Thus, there’s going to be a sudden and abrupt shift in posting or messaging. I don’t know when. But it is coming.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(Especially since I’ve been feeling mania over the weekend. All weekend, Saturday and Sunday, I manic cleaned large portions of certain areas I occupy as well as my housemate. Today I’m feeling the aching in my joints badly, with my calves swearing hell at me. I’m wearing my wrist brace too, I just…I’m rambling.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I wish for you to know what’s happening if you don’t see or hear from me, my headmates, or any of my online presences (as depicted here: https://cjoatbysamwise.com/cjoats-links ) No one is being forgotten. I’m not abandoning anyone. I’m not ghosting anyone. What I do know (still coming to terms with it ngl) is I need to stop, fully stop, and recover. It’s looking like my body is going to do that for me by force. It’s going to be abrupt and sudden to the inconvenience of many, including my housemate, unfortunately.

I don’t know how long this will last. But I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep “hustling” like this. Does this sound repetitive? I wanted to communicate before suddenly I’m unable.

Does this sound repetitive? I’ll end it here. I wanted to communicate before suddenly I’m unable.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I’ll end it here with how you can support me while I’m down, only able to and wish to (I’m aware financial situations are a big struggle at the moment, there is no pressure to.)

Provide support by these links:

Thank you for reading until the end; have an awesome week ahead. Please remember to hydrate and eat. 🫶🏽❤️‍🩹

[breelandwalker]

Hiya Bree,

I need a spell to get someone "to f*ck off, and when they get there, to f*ck off some more". Ive always been a bit on the fence about hexing etc but I don't think getting someone to go and stay away is necessarily causing harm. Not sure how it plays into the messing with free will thing 🤔

Either way, I need to learn to ward and protect myself from bad consequences, but ultimately I want this person far far away and hopefully never coming back.

Do you have any spells to this affect?

Oh yes. Yes I do. "Fuck right off into the sun" is one of my favorite types of banishing. 😈

And that is the goods news here, and a lesson that I'd like everyone reading to take to heart - while there's nothing wrong with hexing the pants off of someone, that doesn't necessarily have to be the answer if all you want to do is get them out of your life. In such cases, a good binding or banishing can be much more cost-effective in terms of energy and effort.

Additionally, it doesn't really play into free will since it's not really trying to circumvent anything and is more like setting a firm boundary, which is healthy. (And anyone who tells you that it's "harmful" to set boundaries or remove toxic people from your life is probably exactly the type of person who doesn't respect boundaries or the wishes of others.)

In this case, I think a simple onion banishing spell might do the trick. You will need:

One large onion

Pen and paper

Paring knife

A handful of nails (and small hammer if desired)

Normally, I don't bother with the nails, since this spell has been effective for my needs with just the onion and paper, but if you want the added oomph, go with the nails. Oh, and prepare some facial protection if onion fumes irritate your eyes and nose.

Begin by writing the person's name on the slip of paper. Next, use the paring knife to carve a sizeable plug out of the side of the onion. Insert the paper, then replace the plug. Finally (and here's where it gets messy), press the nails into the onion, as many as you like. They don't have to be all the way in, just far enough so that they're not easily dislodged. If it helps logistically, use short thin nails. And don't forget to snap and snarl and repeatedly tell the person to fuck off while preparing the whole thing

Once you're done, chuck the onion in your trash, or in a dumpster somewhere away from your home. You can bag it or wrap it in newspaper if you wish, but just get it out of your home and away from you in a way that it's not going to come back. Again, not harmful, just a very strong, "Get out and don't come back." It also helps to cleanse your space or refresh your protections after casting this spell, just to remove any lingering disruptive energy from the person and get those boundaries firmly in place.

Hope this helps! 😊

[tsukkismoonlight]

For You, Anything || NakedToaster x Reader

Authors note: I meant to put this in when i posted it hut work got in the way smh but !! This was my piece for the Teahouse collab, which you can find the other entries here !

Warnings: general warnings around breakups, thoughts/anxiety related to self image/self worth

Summary: You've sworn off love. After the way your last ex treated you, after all of the heartbreak, and all of the nights you lost to someone who didn't care, you have had enough. Or, that's what the plan had been. You wouldn't have guessed that a tiny fan server with less than ten members hid someone who made everything feel like all of that pain was worth it. And you, they'd do just about anything.

WC: 1.5k

You can tell that the little server is starting to wake for the night, by the sound of your notifications going off at a rapid pace. A smile crosses your face as you head over to your computer, double clicking on its icon that you had previously pinned to the taskbar.

One by one the messages loaded before your eyes, not that you had much time to read them before everyone was welcoming you back.

Nightowl was the first, as he quickly sent 'Hey hey hey! My fellow insomniac is here!'

'You two seriously need to fix your sleep schedules.' Was Onion's way of saying hi to you today.

'Hello to you too, Onion. I swear i'm trying my hardest' you type in response, before pausing and sending another message, 'Nightowl on the other hand…he's beyond saving.'

This earned an appearance from Quest, who came in to defend Nightowl on the low, 'Lets not gang up on the kid,'

'Thanks Quest, at least someone believes in me T-T'

You hummed to yourself, as another message made its way into the server. Though, this time it wasn't directed at you.

'Well if it isn't the ever so elusive Toaster.' Xyx's odd profile picture graced the chat room as he noted that Nakedtoaster was now active in the server.

'Wakey wakey Toast and shakey~' came Nightowl, quick to reference a story that Salo had told the group some few days ago.

'That again? How many times are you going to greet me with that, Owl?' You could practically hear the half-hearted exasperation through Toaster's message as if he was sitting right next to you.

'Is it better than Xyx always following up with "what's shakin bacon?" ' owl asked next, knowing full and well that Toaster really didn't mind either of the terms.

You took the slight lapse in the conversation to greet him yourself, 'good evening Toasty,'

'yeah yeah evening' he sends, then a short pause before another message from him loads, 'specifically good evening to you though.'

Another smile settles onto your features, as you reread his message.

From there the server seemed to find a good tempo in a happy conversation, talking about some bloomic fan-theory that June happened to come across just a few days prior.

You pull your attention away from the monitor for a moment to check your phone, swiping away the notifications displayed at the top of its screen. Outside of the server, you didn't have very many people to talk to. Sure, you had a few friends from work, and maybe one or two acquaintances that you made when you were still in school, but as life seemed to drag on, the less you heard from them. There was a point in time where you had a previous partner, and you had spent most of your free time with him.

And while things had started off nicely, they didn't end that way. He was controlling, you had to dress a certain way, speak a certain way, you had to take interest in the things he liked. The conversations were never about you. He would constantly criticize you, from the way you looked, to the way you'd write your As. By the time you finally managed to escape the guy, he had stripped you of who you were, or who you had been.

Your eyes glance to the date in the corner of your monitor. It had been nearly a year and a half since then. A year and a half of trying to fit cut up puzzle pieces together, in hopes that you'd get to see yourself again. Eighteen months of pushing yourself past your limits just to pick your hobbies and interests back up. Eighteen months of wondering if you could even go back to who you were before the guy.

A quiet ping from your computer broke you from your thoughts, and you looked to see a message from Toasty in the juicy gamers channel, one that only held Xyx, Toaster and yourself. Its purpose was supposed to be for Toaster and Xyx to talk about ffxiv, but by now it was just another chat room within the bloomic server.

As you clicked on the channel, you saw that it had been Nakedtoaster who pinged you, asking if you were alright, since you had gone quiet in the general chat.

'I'm alright! I was just thinking about something a little serious, I guess I got lost in my train of thought for a bit.'

You watched as it showed him typing, then a pause, then that he was typing again. Finally, he sent his message, 'wanna talk in the voice channel? You can share your thoughts with me if you'd like'

You pause for a moment. That would mean telling them about your ex. Not that you weren't ever open about your past with the server before. But, this was different. After breaking things off with your ex, you had promised yourself to do one thing; to swear off love, at least until you were ready to try again. You didn't want to rush into another relationship, only to doubt yourself again. You couldn't get stuck in another situation like that, especially if you weren't ready to put yourself first. And if you were being honest with yourself, you hardly had the words to explain that to someone else.

Yet, you found yourself joining Toaster's call, easily falling into the pattern that the two of you had made in your time in the server.

"You /still/ take forever to join calls," he smiles into his camera, slightly leaned forwards as they spoke into their mic.

You playfully roll your eyes at the comment, sighing as you did, "Not my fault /someone/ is so impatient,"

"Only because it's you,"

Your breath seems to hitch in your throat. Toaster said it so casually, that you almost missed how they actually meant it. You always seemed to misinterpret their words, everything he said always felt like it held more weight. And despite your vow to stay far away from relationships, you could never shake off the ever growing mix of anxiety and something that you didn't want to name that resided within your mind.

"Hey, you alright? I've called your name a few times now," Toasty is leaned back in his chair again, a worried look clear as day on his face.

You blink a few times, fighting off an awkward smile, mind racing to think of any excuse. When you couldn't form the words, Toaster let out a slow chuckle, as if he had understood your train of thought.

"I meant that as in…well." He paused, a heavy blush spreading across his face, "As in, I really enjoy talking with you and I'm impatient."

"But, only me?"

"Yeah. I wanted to say something earlier, but, I think I might have developed..uh..feelings for you."

The feeling was back. A confusing amount of dread, and content, like oil and water, refusing to mix but making themselves known aggressively.

"Toaster I-" you start, feeling your hands begin to shake, "I'm not…well…I don't want to outright say no or anything but..I'm not sure I'm ready for..well for that."

To your surprise, they let out another gentle laugh, nodding their head as they leaned back towards their mic, "I know,"

"Huh?"

"Well, I remembered awhile back that you mentioned a shitty ex, so I figured that this might be the case if I did confess…which is why I prepared myself." You watch as he fidgets with the short microphone stand, his eyes straying to something on his desk as he continued, "I'm not going to rush you. And I'm not going to make you tell me anything about your past relationship. I wanted to tell you that I like you, so that you know that I'm here, if you'll have me, whenever that may be."

You were stunned. Despite spending so much time with the Blooming Panic server, getting to know everyone, and letting them get to know this new, healing version of yourself, you had never stopped to think that any of them would actually take a deeper interest in you. Especially when you seemed to feel so lost in your own self worth and image, like looking into a mirror that was hastily glued back together. And yet they had. Nakedtoaster had looked at the same mirror, and decided that he wanted you.

You hardly notice a small stream of tears that fall from your face, as you speak, "You'd do that for me? You'd really wait?"

They lean back in their chair again, looking towards their camera with half lidded eyes, "I like you for who you are, and I know that. So, as long as I know that I want you, I'm okay with waiting."

He lets you sit for a moment, not commenting on your tears, or on the way you couldn't believe his words. Toasty was true to their words, they'd be okay with you taking your time, in this moment, and in the next. Something told you that you could trust him with that. Slowly, you let a smile make its way onto your face as you wipe away the uncertainty that had come from your eyes. Then, when you bring your attention back to them, they say one more thing.

"So, of course. For you, I'd do anything."

[gothhabiba]

obviously you can’t cook don’t know what a blog is etc etc. but in a universe where you did would you know of any recipes your alternate self posted which used leftovers or scraps? or alternatively making really good stock? many thanks

hm. if I ever cooked I think I would say something like—take

the peels, ends, and greens (if you haven't used them for anything else) of carrots

the ends, leaves, and outer stringy bits (if you're one of those people who peel them) of celery

tomato skins

mushroom stems

peels and trimmings of onions

peels and ends of garlic

skins and trimmings of ginger

the whites of green onions

stems of fresh, tender herbs (parsley and cilantro)

stems of woody herbs (thyme, rosemary), in moderation

trimmings from leeks, turnips, and fennel, in moderation

And simmer in enough water to cover for about an hour, with herbs or whole spices if you'd like (I generally include bay leaves, black or white peppercorns, cumin seeds, and coriander seeds), then strain. You can keep scraps from preparing meals over the course of a few days or weeks and freeze them in a bag or other container until ready to make stock; make sure each bag has a good proportion of different vegetables. Frozen scraps will only take 15-20 minutes of simmering to make stock.

Make sure that you scrub any vegetables whose peels you will be using for stock thoroughly. Scraps can be used for stock if they are wilted, but not if they are rotten.

Various places online will give you different ideas of what to include in stock and what not to bother including (there's a pretty comprehensive list here); as you do this over time you will no doubt have your own opinions about inclusions and ratios. Do not include cruciferous vegetables (broccoli, cauliflower) as they will make the stock unpalatably bitter. You may chuse to divide scraps in terms of what meal you plan to make with the stock (e.g. leave ginger, lemongrass, galangal peels &c. for an east Asian meal rather than, like, an Italian one).

Other things that can be done with "scraps":

The whites of green onions can be simmered alongside kombu/dashima when making Japanese dashi or Korean yuksu. Also reconstitute dried shiitake mushrooms in this stock to get flavourful mushroom water in the stock + reconstituted mushrooms that you can slice, boil, fry, &c.

The whites of green onions can also be used to make shiraga negi, a Japanese garnish

Thai recipes often involve leaving the peels on garlic when chopping or pulverising it. I'm not sure how the skins on Thai garlic compare to other varieties so your mileage may vary.

Garlic and onion peels can be dried in a dehydrator or an oven on low (~200F) and then ground to add savor to bread, soups, rice &c. Basically use it like garlic powder

Cauliflower and broccoli stalks can be peeled, sliced and roasted (along with the leaves) at around 400F (200C) for 20 minutes or so until browned and crispy with olive oil, salt, and spices of your chusing, then dipped in ranch or garlic sauce (for a quick vegan ranch I mix vegan mayonnaise + grated garlic + a squeeze of lemon + pinch of salt).

Kale stems can be pickled, or sliced thin, sauteed, and added to stir-fries and soups.

The inner core of cabbages (which some recipes call for you to remove) can also be minced and added to soups.

Orange, lemon, and grapefruit peels can be used to make mixed peel; apple peels and cores can be used to make apple jelly. These recipes aren't really something-for-nothing, though, as they do use a lot of sugar.

Also orange peel tea. Sometimes when making mixed peel I drain the water after five minutes of simmering and drink it as tea, then replace the water and continue simmering as the recipe calls for.

Some Medditerranean cake recipes involve (perhaps soaking and then) blending an entire orange, peel and all--look up "whole orange cake."

When not making mixed peel, I (remove the pith from and then) dry orange and lemon peels to grind into zest and store it to use as needed. A friend of mine saves the pith, too, and dries and grinds it and uses it to replace some of the flour when baking.

South Indian & Latin American recipes sometimes feature the peels of bananas or plantains—look for banana peel curry/thoran.

Various recipes can be found for banana peel pulled pork and banana peel bacon; banana peel cake; banana peel tea.

Starch left from rinsing rice can be used to thicken soups and stews (this is common in Korean recipes).

The water left from cooking dried beans can be used in soups and stews, or in cooking future batches of beans.

Make sure that anything you're eating or boiling has been washed well.

I— I'm. uh. huh. that was weird, I don't know what came over me...

[magicalrocketships]

8, 56 or 69 for the over 30's ask meme! (Or all three if you have the spoons/time/inclination) <3

(And yes, two of these are shameless way of trying to potentially find a new favourite cleaning product or low-effort meal haha)

oh hello! love everything that makes things easier tbh.

8. What cleaning product do you swear by?

Two answers to this - the first one is low cost: pink stuff miracle paste. It is multi purpose and SO useful. When I moved in here a couple of years ago, I found a use for the drawers I had as a kid which had been stored in a family member's garage - they had stickers on and were grimy and I looked at them and didn't think they'd clean up, but pink stuff took it all off, sticker residue and everything. You can use it for cleaning anything and everything.

The second one is a robot hoover. Mine is called Maxy-Max and he arrived in my life earlier this year and in terms of spoons he has revolutionised my life. I ran most days last year on the equivalent of about 3-5% battery life and as such I have pretty much zero spare energy for cleaning, but now Maxy-Max will do things like find a Christmas bauble under a table and brush it to my feet or a pen under a seat and I will think yes: I love this robot and this robot loves me (and my cleaning).

56. Favorite low-effort meal that you make?

Godddd we are very, very gently starting to occasionally cook things again after 18 months of not being well enough to, but I have two recipes - one of which is an actual fave and the other one I've made and then adapted, but it's SO nice to have flavour again in what I eat (so many ready meals and easy eat stuff that made up my last 18 months are just bland, ughhhhhh so mediocre all of the time).

The first one is an extremely easy, vaguely a version of carbonara if you squint very hard (sorry Italians) and you can use literally any variation of pre-prepared ingredient dependent on need/ease/what you have and add frozen ingredients directly to the frying pan, but:

a) cook pasta. spaghetti is preferable but whatever brings you comfort and joy

b) while pasta is cooking, fry chopped onion and garlic and bits of smoked bacon. add salt and pepper.

c) when pasta is nearly done cooking add frozen peas to the bacon mix, leave to cook while you finish with the pasta and drain it

d) stir in cream cheese/philadelphia to bacon mix, according to taste (usually 1/3 to 1/2 a tub but I don't know how big tubs are elsewhere, just however much you like, you can add more but you can't take it out)

e) stir in the drained pasta to the bacon/cheese mix. add more pepper if you like pepper (I like pepper)

f) eat and feel joy. the leftovers are even more delicious.

The second was the first thing I made from a recipe book in forever. It's a gorgeous cookbook called Ramen by Makiko Sano. It's got so much to say and teach about how to build a layered ramen dish and I'm excited to have the energy to make any of that, BUT, nestled at the back is this recipe for microwave ramen:

I loved the ramen/kimchi/tofu/spring onion mix, the cheese and sort of egg scramble was nice but I wouldn't need it every time - but it was SO nice to try something new and relatively easy for lunch that didn't make me too tired to actually eat it.

69. What are you looking forward to next week?

I had a friend to stay this weekend and it was lovely but I am now v tired (beyond normal fatigue, but in a good way) and I JUST remembered that I have a long weekend booked off work this week with nothing to fill it up yet but dreams.

ask me questions!

[sparring-spirals]

I honestly adoring those episode, it has everything I could have hope for

FCG discovering their soul, that they developed themselves

The group fighting (literally) for Laudna

The interactions between VM and BH where perfect, Percy’s understandable anger towards the thought of being Delilah back, Vex’s guilt because she feel responsible for Laudna’s first death, and Pike just being Pike, the best damn baker

Oh, I am absolutely with you on that. GOD what an episode!!!! So many highlights!!!!!! So many fascinating character interactions and conversations and onion-peeling-layers and smidges of angst and determination and love and- nice. NICE. Im still so excited that everything is kind of coming out in interconnected jumbles, and I am absolutely going to end up writing individual metas about more of these, but suffice it to say:

(i got so excited, this got long, sorry. its basically like 5 different seeds of metas)

- I loved F.C.G's reaction to getting definitive proof they were alive. I love that it was almost less joyous and a little more scared. Because it IS scary! All this time, F.C.G has been living their life for others, divining their purpose from others, they haven't really been living like they were. Alive. Realizing you have a life on your own terms, under your own control, is freeing, and that freedom can be scary! and kind of shitty, sometimes! You have all this space to fuck up. You have all this responsibility if you do. F.C.G realizes they have a life, they are alive, their life matters. and their first reaction is "well, shit." thats SO GOOD. "Well, I have to live." "Unfortunately, true." 👌👌👌👌👌👌👌👌🥳🥳🥳🥳

- I'm a little less confident on my reads of Vox Machina but from what I knew I really liked how those conversations played out. It all made sense to me. which is nice. Percy with his family and hard won peace around him, seeing his worst fears rise up and threaten. Vex with guilt around her shoulders but the chance to help. Pike with that kindness and sincerity and flour on her clothes and being unused to reviving again but so good at helping. And also Keyleth really needing a nap and a few hugs maybe. Someone get that gal some calming tea, stat. The interplay- Vex touching Laudna's ears, Pike watching everyone with entertainment, THE ASHTON AND PERCY CONVERSATION. god that conversation

- I've got so many feelings about Bell's Hells literally fighting for Laudna, fighting through a mindscape comprised of Laudna's personal demons. I've got SO many. Some people have already written excellent posts about it (@c-is-for-circinate's post here, and @mockingmolly s post here, come to mind), and I already waxed poetic about it right after the episode but like. its so good! its symbolic and sweet and weighted and poetic and like. When Pike proposed it, they all said yes, almsot immediately, with almost no hesitation. This party of people who were always so eager to dive into each others problems, to help each other, getting to LITERALLY. Dive in and fight and help and save. And they did it through a weird fucked up slumber party. perf. (and i JUST READ A OSOT ABOUT THIS and need ti add it here and its about how laudna Isnt Getting A Say In It rn as well intentioned as it is which. also makes it. kind of fucked. god this needs its own post but like. yea.)

- you didnt mention this explicitly but the ashton and percy convo and tbh everything about how ashton reacted to these massively powerful people- the unsureness and reservations then just- straight up opening up to Percy, in a way, in their fury. the changes in them moving them to anger, still, but of a different sort. pleading, but angrily, furious, trying to push reason. so offensive their defense dropped. that conversation was SOMETHING.

- Also not mentioned but like. Imogen, my gal. My buddy. my darling. oh boy.

- chet's little kindnesses and reactions through the ep were also Something

- i hope fearne steals something

anyway sorry lost the plot a little here but YES what an EPISODE i am HOLLERING and BLOWING AIRHORNS 🥳