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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

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The Miys, Ch. 150

I think for the time being, I am going to quit calling myself ‘late’ posting as long as I get the chapter up on the right day of the week *facepalm*. Bc I am barely keeping ahead, much less remembering to queue things up.

I am so, so sorry about that....

Fair warning before anyone @s me: The French is a joke, so if I got it super wrong I am equally sorry to the degree of which it’s wrong.

Unless it’s obscene. Then I want to know so that I can laugh with you, and I am LEAVING IT.

As always, shouts out to @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog!

Heaving an enormous Dutch oven onto a burner, I turned on the heat low and started chopping vegetables. After the first celery stalk, I glanced up at Derek, who sat across from Maverick in our living room. The quarters were shaped differently, which had distressed Derek initially, but the addition of his favorite blankets to the sofa had helped. Currently, he was completely distracted from even Mac: staring off into space, his fingers flying and flicking with a feverish, almost convulsive movement.

Maverick glanced up at me with a smile before following my gaze. “Yep, the cyber siege continues. He’s doing well, from what Zach told me.”

“I thought he was only supposed to attack human-managed systems,” I grumbled, thinking back to the cold shower I had been subjected to that morning. Turning back to the vegetables, I made short work of the celery before taking my frustration out on the carrots. Scooping the diced vegetables into a bowl, I started measuring out paprika, sugar, salt, pepper, basil, and oregano into another bowl. “Where’s Sam, by the way?”

“On the way,” Maverick promised. “With Terran-style tomatoes, he swears. And Derek is only attacking systems we manage. When BioLab 2 was set up, we had to take over water management, to protect the lab from any sort of contamination.”

The knife in my hand, brandished at three cloves of garlic, clattered to the work surface. “Seriously?” I glared at the tap, suddenly suspicious.

“Probably get water from the console,” he winced, nodding briskly at Derek, who nodded in confirmation without stopping his tapping and flicking gestures.

Groaning, I shook my head and crushed the garlic, removed the skin, and started mincing. All that was left was to wait on the tomatoes from Sam. The garlic was potent enough, and I wanted to avoid cutting any onion until absolutely necessary since Derek was clearly parked for the duration.

I was saved about fifteen minutes later when Conor and Sam stopped at the door. Sam waved cheerfully and held up the requested vegetables while Conor removed his boots. A quick shuffle later for Sam to remove his own shoes, and both came to the food prep area - too small to be considered a proper kitchen - to greet me.

First, Conor gave me a big, smelly hug and a kiss on my hair. “Did you already slice the bread?”

“Ew, you gorilla!” I laughed. “And I haven’t sliced any bread yet, I wasn’t sure how long I had and I didn’t want it to get too stale.”

“They’re toasties, love.” He shook his head with a grin before swatting me on the butt. “No one cares if the bread was a bit stale before you started.”

Over his shoulder, Derek’s head bobbed side to side. “I think someone disagrees.” I looked meaningfully past him. To Conor’s credit, he looked sheepish.

Sam squeezed around and handed me the tomatoes and gave me a hug. “Thank you for making soup.”

“I know it’s our favorite,” I winked before shooing him out of the area. “Not enough room for more than one in the kitchen. Y’all go unwind out there, and make sure you warn Derek that I’m about to start cutting onions.”

As he held up his hands and jokingly scurried away, I turned to the stove and started cursing myself. I’d forgotten to start boiling water. Snagging a small saucepan, I got a carafe of water from the console and started rectifying that, tossing in a generous pinch of salt. Gently, I cut an X into the bottom of each tomato and set them aside before peeling and dicing the onion. Immediately, the onion, carrots, and celery went into a food processor. “Derek, I’m about to be loud,” I called softly before counting to ten to give him time to cover his ears or step into the corridor. A quick blitz later, the vegetables were perfectly between a mince and a puree.

A quick swizzle of oil went into the already-hot dutch oven before adding the mirepoix and giving it a quick stir. As if on cue, Tyche and Antoine breezed through the door, noses twitching.

“I smell food,” she announced, stalking into the kitchen. One look at the ingredients was all it took. “Ooooo you’re making the tomato soup.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “I am, and you know I don’t have room in here for spectators, unfortunately.” Arching an eyebrow, I pointed the spoon in my hand at the table.

She wasn’t having it. “One of these days, you’re going to show me how to make that. May as well be today.”

“Nice try, but I need some secrets. Besides, the longer I argue with you, the more likely the vegetables are going to scorch. Scoot!”

She scrunched her face at me but acquiesced. As I scooped the garlic into the pot, I heard her change topics. “How much longer is the stress test? My music keeps getting mixed up with Antoine’s. I don’t mind it, but…”

Antoine smiled softly and shook his head. “But it is quite a shock to expect classical music and instead her rock starts playing.”

Personally, I liked both, but still shuddered at what he was talking about. Carefully lowering three of the tomatoes into the now-boiling water, I glanced at the sauteing vegetables and gave them a quick stir to check. “We have about six more days before the repairs start, maybe four more after that?”

Conor sighed. “I wish we could ask if anything important was being hacked, not just annoying environmental controls.”

“Plants aren’t dead yet,” Sam pointed out, tipping his bottle of water toward Conor in a practiced gesture. Everyone laughed when, rather than being reassured, Conor leapt to his feet to check on his ‘babies’ in the room.

Cursing, I dipped the tomatoes out of the boiling water and dropped them immediately into an ice bath. A couple pokes with my trusty spoon showed they weren’t overcooked, thankfully. “None of my information for work has been acting up,” I admitted as I started peeling them. “But Pranav advised that more critical data would either go completely missing or not show any signs of infiltration. We won’t know until after the test is over.”

“Lovely,” Tyche drawled as she watched Conor fretting over the plants. “So it’s all or nothing.”

I shrugged and dumped the tomato paste - admittedly, from the console - into the pan of other vegetables. When I stirred, I was satisfied that the carrots, onion, and celery had cooked down to where they were soft. “In a weird way, it makes sense. They’re testing for catastrophic data breaches, which would pull everything down, or for data theft, which you wouldn’t want to leave traces of.”

The corner of Antoine’s mouth quirked up as I dropped three more tomatoes into the pan of boiling water. “No hidden boba tea this time, that is reassuring.”

Hands still moving without hesitation, Derek whipped his head toward Antoine, paused, and turned back to where he had been staring. Derek’s version of a glare.

“That was Charly,” I responded in unexpected unison with Maverick and Conor. I smirked while dumping the already-peeled tomatoes into the processor with another pinch of salt. “Seriously, Derek had nothing to do with that other than divine retribution.” I paused for a moment. “Although I do have to admit that the cold showers do seem to track with what Charly reported.”

That only got a shrug from Derek, which was as good as an admission.

The conversation shifted again - something Conor and Sam were working on in the aeroponics labs that I had already heard multiple details on, plus repetition. Tuning it out, I pulled out the last three tomatoes, dropped them in the ice bath, and took a platter with a loaf of bread, sliced cheese, and butter out to the table. “Mav, can you start setting up the sandwiches?”

He went to stand, but Tyche shooed him back down. “I got it. She may not let me help make the soup on this one, but I can prep a grilled cheese with the best.” Staring me in the eye, she started cutting slices from the loaf defiantly.

I just laughed it off. This was the only tomato soup either of us liked, and she had been chasing me for the recipe for ages. It had become a running joke at this point, so without hesitation, I moved back to the food prep area, peeled the remaining tomatoes, and gave another warning that I was going to be loud. Some more blitzing later, the now-pureed tomatoes went into the pan of veggies along with the spices I had already measured out, the juice from one lemon, and enough water to fill the pan three-quarters full. Leaving that to boil, I moved the boiling water off the stove and swapped it for a grill-pan.

“Sophie!” Conor cried from the armchair where he perched. “You’ve seen the plants we’re growing in the lab! Tell them we’ve managed a crop of roots!”

I winced. “Jury’s out… I’m not sure how aeroponic potatoes are going to turn out, but I can confirm they are in the process of finding out?”

Tyche’s knife fell to the table, and she moved her mouth silently in a very accurate imitation of a fish before managing to sputter. “Air-grown… potatoes?”

The confusion on Antoine’s face was painful to look at. He started to speak before stopping himself and instead pulling up his datapad, jotting a message, and flicking it out to the room.

When I read the message, the confusion was so clear that I hurt my sinuses snorting. Des pomme de terre en l’air? Pommes aeriennes? Talk about being lost in translation…. “Conor, Sam… I think Antoine has the perfect name for those if they work out. Just sayin’”

Tyche snorted and shook her head before handing me the platter, with a stack of perfectly buttered bread, two slices of cheese between every other slice of bread. The soup had just come to a simmer, so I was stirring intently and just nodded for her to start grilling sandwiches. Several appreciative sniffs and twenty minutes later, six bowls of soup and six matching sandwiches - three cut vertically and three cut diagonally, because it mattered and was not a battle I was willing to fight - hit the table. Tyche politely placed the salt cellar and a pepper grinder on the table, although the glare she dished out to the collected group promised strong retaliation to anyone who touched them.

I held up half of my grilled cheese in a mock-toast. “To soup night!”

“To air potato soup, soon!” Maverick offered up with a grin, only for everyone to echo his sentiment with the exception of Derek - who just held up half of his sandwich with one hand and tapped away with the other, not even relenting to eat.

Frankly, as long as he spared a hand to eat, I couldn’t bring myself to care. He took these tests very seriously, and generally only stopped when he was completely asleep.

Everyone dug in, but it was only after my first spoonful that I spoke up. “Considering how long it took to make sure the tomatoes wouldn’t be poisonous, I’m not sure the potatoes will be ready before we get to Von.”

Conor and Sam nodded, as did Tyche and Antoine, but Maverick stopped with his bowl halfway to his mouth. Setting it down gently, he angled his head. “What do you mean, poisonous?”

“They’re nightshades,” Conor told him, as calmly as if he was telling us that water was wet. “Tomatoes are the only edible berries of that family, and potatoes are the only edible tubers, so we have to be extra careful.”

Maverick’s eyes grew wide and turned toward his soup. Tyche just reached out and patted his hand. “You’ve eaten this soup for years, and you love tomatoes. They’re safe, I swear. And Sam won’t let Sophia near the new ones until he’s completely sure they’ll be okay to eat.”

Sam nodded, shoving a soup-covered wedge into his mouth. “We’re growing them in simulated Von-light, hoping that keeps the roots from creating chlorophyll. If we’re wrong, there’s a forty-three-point-six percent chance they won’t grow at all, ten-point-five percent chance they will give you a stomach ache, eighteen-point-four percent they won’t taste good, and twenty-seven-point-five percent they will taste good and be safe to eat at the same time.”

“Meaning they won’t kill you, you might get a tummy ache, but most likely for this generation, they just won’t grow,” Conor translated.

“Hang on,” I held up my spoon. “What kind of stomachache are we talking here?”

The mad botanists looked at each other and made a few thoughtful faces. Finally, Conor nodded and Sam spoke. “Unripe apples,” he stated flatly. “But just unripe apples.”

“Oh, that’s not too bad,” I shrugged and crunched into my sandwich.

Derek finished his half-sandwich and blindly reached for another. He had it halfway to his mouth before he looked at it and dropped it back to the plate in alarm. You would have thought it tried to bite him rather than vice versa.

Antoine shook his head and reached past the vertically cut sandwich Derek had dropped and delicately handed him a diagonally cut one. “Here you go, friend.”

Glaring at the sandwich like it may betray him, he bit it viciously before going back to the screen he could only see in his mind, seemingly satisfied that the sandwich would not change into the offending shape.

I told you, it matters.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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lucysweatslove · 2 years

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09.02.2022 //

This morning started out slow for me. I didn’t have to work, but I still woke up at normal work time despite only getting 6:40 of actual sleep. I waffled on what to eat for breakfast because I had kind of planned to make scrambled eggs but really didn’t feel like eggs. I finally decided on what I call French proast, which is essentially French toast but soaked in protein powder and milk instead of eggs. Currently I’m using Fruity Cereal Mill Ghost protein and it makes the best most fruity French proast. I’ve been aiming to have more fat in my diet for general hormonal health, so breakfast’s fat contribution came in the form of chopped walnuts. I also decided on 3 instead of 2 pieces because…? Idk, I was feeling really lethargic and fatigued and figured I needed the carbs.

After breakfast, I was still feeling sluggish, and Oreo was at daycare, so I just went to lay in bed myself. I’m not advocating for everybody to be lazy and sedentary all of the time, but I’m also never going to advocate for the full “rise and grind” hustle culture. My body said it needed rest. I listened.

Husband came in around noon maybe and informed me he invited a couple of his friends to this Halloween event at the museum. I became royally annoyed. Part of this is because we had already invited two friends and regardless of if they come or not, I don’t want even the potential for a group larger than 4. I get overwhelmed in those situations. Another part is that I don’t actually enjoy those two friends that much. Husband has never asked me what I think of them, but I tend to avoid doing too much with them because I end up more drained and just emotionally feeling like shit around them. A third part to my annoyance is that this wasn’t discussed with me. I originally suggested we go to the event just us two. When we invited the first couple, that was fine- I enjoy spending time with them and can handle 4. But honestly, I still wasn’t THRILLED. This time, it felt like Husband was just completely ignoring what I wanted. That’s a topic for another day. I did tell him that I was not happy with this decision and wish he would’ve talked to me first, but he didn’t want to engage in that conversation and just left.

Anyway I decided I was really not handling that well and probably needed to sleep more, so I took a nap. After my nap, Husband was gone to meet with a notary and pick up Oreo. He picked up subs from Jersey Mikes on the way home too which was delicious. I always forget to ask for no oregano though. I don’t dislike oregano but I don’t like it on a turkey and provolone sub.

I was still feeling pretty sleepy and meh and figured since a) sleep helped but didn’t solve it entirely, b) food was delicious but didn’t really resolve the “meh” feeling, and c) I was definitely drinking enough fluids, the other physical thing to try was exercise. So I got my workout clothes on, turned on What We Do in the Shadows, and did ~30 min of spinning (I think 7.2 miles) through one episode and then my lower body (with some core work) workout through one more episode. I finally finished season 3, and I did actually feel a little better afterwards!

After my workout I wasn’t super hungry since I had a large lunch, but it was a little bit late and I knew I would be hungry later on. I made a nice mixed greens salad with cucumber and celery. I knew I wanted to put my baked tofu on it, so I was debating about dressings as I don’t like oily salads but the dressings we have currently don’t really “go” well with my tofu marinade. So I decided on just vinegar but I did add an avocado for the fats.

Honestly I’m back to feeling pretty meh right now. I could take another bath, but I don’t want to use my bath bombs up too quickly. Maybe bath salts? Or maybe just binge watch season 4 because Colin Robinson.

#personal #journal #my face #still filtered because my confidence in my face isn’t high today

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like-i-need-a-hole-in-my-head · 3 years

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Chicken and barley soup

It was very rainy and windy today, and the first time in months that it felt chilly. The Mr was out tonight so I made this for the kiddos. They loved it.

~recipe under the cut~

Ingredients

8 cups water

2 pounds chicken thighs (better flavour than breasts)

1 1/2 cups chopped carrots

1 cup chopped celery (use the leaves)

1 onion, chopped

3/4 cup pearl barley

3 bay leaves

1 cube chicken bouillon / paste

1 teaspoon ground sage

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

A tablespoon of lemon juice

Note: this recipe is VERY flexible. It’s good for cleaning out your produce drawer. I didn’t follow the recipe exactly because I only had one carrot and that’s because I asked a neighbour for it. I had a bag of frozen vegetables so I used peas and carrots from that too. I also wanted to use up some extra leeks, so I only used half an onion instead of a whole onion. I used “better than bouillon” chicken (about 2 teaspoons) and later added some knorr chicken paste. You could also add a teaspoon of poultry seasoning or use chicken stock instead of water. I just used a pinch of salt. If you don't have sage, you could also use dill or thyme (but I wouldn't use them together).

Directions

Combine water, chicken thighs, and bay leaves in a large stock pot, bring to a boil, reduce heat to low, cover, simmer 30 minutes.

Remove chicken to a cutting board to cool. Remove and discard bones, skin, and fat from chicken. Tear or cut remaining meat into bite-sized pieces.

Low fat version: cool broth until the fat congeals on the surface, and remote it. This takes a lot of time and I started late so we had the full fat version.

Put the chicken back in the broth and add carrots, celery, onion, pearl barley, chicken bouillon, sage, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low, cover and simmer until the barley is cooked and the vegetables are tender, about 45 minutes.

Stir lemon juice into the soup just before serving.

I just wish we had a baguette.

#food #soup #sunday dinner

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lokitapendragon · 2 years

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Hansa Fish Soup

So the soup scene in Baptism of Blood made me so happy I had to try my hand at making my own.

Ingredients

-2-3 pounds firm white fish They use pike in the book, which you actually CAN get if your fishmonger carries it; but the price tag is hefty, so about 4 fresh tilapia filets will really do just fine.

-1 carton seafood stock This might not be in the 'soup' aisle with the chicken and beef broth; check near the meat section. Also, if you feel ambitious, you can make your own by simmering fish bones (from a fishmonger) along with what cooks call "mirepoix," or chopped carrots, onion, and celery for several hours before straining. (Hopefully you have a colander for this and don't need to borrow chain mail!)

-Seasoning The book mentions salt, pepper, and parsley, but remember they've got Regis and his pocket-apothecary with them. You can pretty much season as you wish!

-Optional additions

The Hansa strains out all the onion, celery, and carrots, but there's no rule saying you have to if you want a heartier dish. You can also boil some potatoes in water until tender and add them to the broth, or slip in something like parsnips, radishes, or leeks. The firmer the vegetable, the more you'll have to saute it before adding it to the broth.

Instructions

In a large pan, combine the seafood stock and your seasonings and gently bring to a boil. If you're adding extra vegetables, start sauteing them now.

In an oiled skillet on medium heat, cook the fish gently until there's just a tiny amount of pink left in the center. The fish will continue to cook in the broth and you don't want it to become rubbery by overcooking.

When the fish (and optional vegetables) are cooked, add them to the broth and simmer on low heat for at least 15 minutes, or until the fish is white all the way through. Taste for seasoning and add any you need. Serve immediately with crusty bread.

#the witcher #baptism of blood #hansa #fish soup #oh look i made a thing #saute the crap out of the vegetables if you add them or you'll have weird crunchy bites of carrot like me

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simonalkenmayer · 3 years

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What’s your favorite dry rub?

I smoked some ribs yesterday and threw together a combination of peppercorns, red pepper, brown sugar, garlic, salt, cardamom, and old bay. Wish I’d had smoked paprika!

Interestingly, a friend brought a homemade bbq sauce that was made with, among other things, fish sauce and a teaspoon of rose water.

I use different rubs for different meats. For what you have made, I’d do two kinds of paprika, Korean red pepper, brown sugar, garlic, onion powder, mustard powder, chili flake, salt and peppercorns, powdered ginger, fennel and celery seed, possibly also mushroom powder.

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

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The Killing Cure (Part 7)

“Alright, first things first, we have to dice some potatoes!” Ethan declares.

She thinks that he is enjoying this; a taste of the domesticy that had been stolen so early from him. She doesn’t understand it at all really--the appeal of cooking. He throws terms and phrases that mean nothing to her, ‘drain the potatoes in a colander!’ ‘whisk the mayo with…!’ ‘then we’ll toss the potatoes and mayo mixture!’ The only thing that she would like to toss is the bowl; she would like to toss it across the room. But she doesn’t wish to startle her napping girls, lest they burst into three separate clouds of frenzied flies. Neither does she want to clean eggs and potato off of her walls.

“The eggs, Alcina!” He instructs, pointing at the eggs that he had previously scrambled. “Pour them into the bowl with the celery, and onions!” She isn’t sure why they can’t just toss the potatoes in now as well.

The man hums as he tosses sprinkles of celery salt and pickle relish into his own bowl. His enthusiasm is almost enduring. She can’t help but wonder how many times he has done this with his Mia. He glances at her and narrows his eyes, “you haven’t started tossing the eggs and onions!”

She doesn’t want to tell him that she doesn’t know what he means. Instead she says, “my hands are aching.”

He nods, “are they aching too much to whisk the mayo?” More to himself he hums, “the medication should have kicked in by now, maybe we should get you more…”

“I am fine, Winters. Just, show me how to whisk the mayo.”

“Of course!” He declares. “Now usually when Mia and I do this we have some cooking tunes playing but you don’t have a radio.”

“I have a record player…”

“Great, where is it?”

“Bela,” She calls to the closest girl. “Be a dear and start the record player, nothing loud.”

“Great! Whisking is pretty simple” He replies. She doesn’t expect him to reach over and take her by the wrist. She is grateful that he is too preoccupied to catch the slight flush of her cheeks. With a few more trivial instructions, he guides her hand along. “Do you think that you have a feel for it?”

“You could have spoken your instructions.” She says stiffly. “I understand now.”

Unperturbed, he replies. “Good. So finish that and then we can mix all of the ingredients and put it in the...you have a fridge, right? Tell me that you have a fridge!”

She clears her throat, “I do not.”

“Oh no!” He runs his fingers through his hairline. “Dammit! Okay, that’s fine...we’ll just stick it outside and hope that the birds don’t steal it.”

She watches him take the bowls and toss them all into the largest of them. He puts a lid over it and shakes it well. She hates that it is such a good distraction, that it makes her feel significantly better to watch him flounce around her kitchen. She wants to blame it fully on the medication and the supplements kicking in but deep down she knows that she can’t quite do that. There is a warmth in the castle, the castle hasn’t felt comfortable in a very long while. And the smell is rather pleasant, fresh and quite tasty.

She thinks that she would like the feeling to remain; this kinder, more mundane feeling. For once nothing hurts. For once, however brief the moment will be, she doesn’t dwell on her predicament. Just beneath the surface, a part of her wonders what her life would have been like without the cadou. She holds her hand to her torso, to the one scar that never healed.

.oOo.

With less pain and a decent meal, Alcina is significantly less cranky. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Did you like the salad?” Ethan asks.

“It was…” She trailed off. “Not horrid.”

He supposes that, ‘not horrid’ is a start. “I guess I should head out and start the hunt…” He strokes his chin. Truth be told he isn’t particularly thrilled by the prospect, not when a hoard of monstrosities seem to be waiting for him in the shadows. “Want to come?”

“I’m in no condition for a hunt.” Her expression dims. “Do you think I’d be sending a foolish man thing like yourself to do it if I could?” And then her expression goes absolutely dark. He doesn’t quite catch it but he thinks that he hears her murmur something about being useless. He isn’t sure if she is calling him more names of if she is speaking of herself. The quietness of the remark has him inclined to guess the latter.

“I just...could use…” the company. He struggles to come up with something else to say, lest she get the wrong idea. “ I could use someone to keep an eye out. Ya know for lycans and stuff.”

She gives a haughty sniff, and seems to shed a few layers of doubt. “They’d be fools to come by my castle unannounced!”

He has to chuckle; it would seem that she is getting at least some of her vigor and dramatics back. “I can teach you to use a gun.” He offers. Maybe then she’ll stop sulking and pouting. Maybe then he can move on in good conscience. “It’s not that hard, all you have to do is.” He loads the gun and fires a shot. The shatter of glass echos about the room.

She flinches, lip twitching in annoyance. “Not in my castle!”

He clenches his teeth in a cringe. “Yeeeah, I can teach you during the hunt.” He hands her one of his pistols, a smaller one. One that she can get a comfortable grip on. God, he must be as big a fool as she says that he is to give her a gun that she can so easily turn on him. That is, after he teaches her to use it. For now she turns it over in her hand, staring at it as though it will fire itself.

She follows him into the forest, “one perk of being smaller,” he says as they walk. “Is that you’re more inconspicuous. You can sneak up on your prey.” She can so long as she is more graceful than he. So far, he is under the impression that she is. She slips between trees with ease. She doesn’t have to bother ducking under branches nor moving them out of the way, neither does she make as much noise as she treks about.

This would be a wonderful thing, if only it didn’t instill a sort of fear within him. Somehow he still feels as though she will extend her claws and start swiping. Every now and then she slips away from him and his stomach lurches; claws or none, he doesn’t like it when she is not in his line of sight.

She emerges a moment later, “there is a deer over there.” He jolts at the sound of her voice. Christ, she is elusive now.

“H-how, are you so quiet?” He knows the answer but inquires anyhow.

“Just shoot the deer, Winters or show me how to do it.”

“Right, of course. Deer. The animal.” He clarifies. “I’m not calling you dear.”

Lady Dimitrescu inhales and simply points in the direction of the deer. He wanders into the clearing. The deer she has come across is a rather decent size, at least enough to feed the five of them. He lifts his gun and fires his shot. It falls dead in an instant--at least his struggles with the lycans have some pay off. And in more ways than one--he sighs knowing that he will have to drag the deer carcass all the way back to the castle. At least he has built the stamina for it.

He turns around to reach for his knife and jerks. He doesn’t know when Lady Dimitrescu had appeared behind him, it is like she has emerged from thin air. He had very nearly shot her. He lowers his gun with a sigh of relief. “You need to stop doing that?”

“Doing what, Winters?”

“Jumping out at me!”

“I am just walking.”

“You aren’t as heavy anymore…”

The woman’s face colors.

“Th-that’s not how I meant it! I wasn’t trying to imply…” he thinks that his cheeks might be a deeper red. She probably hadn’t even taken it that way until he made a big deal of it. “You’re a beautiful lady.” He blurts, now his entire face is red. “I didn’t mean! I mean, I do, I think that you’re not hideous or heavy…” He wishes that she would just tell him to shut the hell up so he can stop digging himself deeper.

.oOo.

Her face is so hot, she can’t remember the last time that she has felt so awkward and flustered. Frankly she isn’t sure if the scarlet on her face can be attributed to his careless comments on her weight or his remark that she is beautiful...not hideous? She isn’t even sure if she is being complimented.

She ponders it the entire way back to her castle, over dinner, and ponders it still as she dresses herself for bed. She picks up one of several night gowns. She resents that she loves the night gowns that he has chosen for her. The Duke, she reminds herself, probably chose it. He is acquainted with her tastes.

She holds the cloth against her frame. She just isn’t certain that she will love how it looks on her.

She pulls it over her head and smoothes the cloth over her body. It is, woefully, a size too big. She swallows as the sleeve slips down her shoulder. She grits her teeth and wraps her arms around herself, rubbing her own arms.

She doesn’t feel right. She doesn’t feel like herself. She slides down the wall and exhales deeply. Ethan had called her beautiful; she wishes that he hadn’t stumbled. Wishes that he hadn’t taken it back. She needs some sort of reassurance, never mind where it comes from.

Just where did she put her kiseru?

She hears a knock, it is the last sound that she wanted to hear. “You in there? Your daughters want a bedtime story.”

She sighs again and stands up. She unlocks the door without a word. She clears her throat, “thank you, I almost forgot.”

#Alcina Dimitrescu #Lady Dimitrescu #Ethan Winters #Alcina/Ethan #Fanfiction

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babbushka · 3 years

Note

I NEED PASSOVER PROMPT ONE

(we know I love Paterson and am a sucker for anything written for him but you can decide who you’d like to write it for 🥺)

A/N: Thank you so much for asking!! Pat is such a mensch, I couldn’t resist jumping on this prompt :) I hope you enjoy it!

1.4k, no warnings just fluff and humor :) Jewish!Paterson x Jewish!Reader

He listens to the rhythmic sound of the wipers, as they steadily swish away a light rain that pitter-patters on the windshield. Paterson drives through the winding upstate New Jersey roads, you in the passenger seat next to him, and his friend Doc the bartender, in the backseat. Paterson had celebrated Pesach with you for many years now, even before you were married and he could only call you his girlfriend, but the addition of his friend is a new one.

Doc had mentioned off-handedly a couple days ago that he knew the Jewish holiday was coming up, but had never experienced it for himself. Paterson brought it up on one of his nightly visits for his single beer, and Doc had been interested enough to agree to join you and him for Seder.

Now though, as they’re all on their way to Paterson’s mom’s house, Doc realizes that he has no idea what he’s getting himself into, especially as Paterson is explaining it to him, prompting him to ask,

“What do you mean there’s fifteen steps?”

You chuckle just a little at the surprise in his voice, and even Paterson’s dimples make an appearance.

“I think last year it was three hours before we even got to eat.” He says, his eyes flicking up to Doc’s in the rearview to give him a friendly smile, “But that was because my cousin kept interrupting.”

“Three hours?” Doc groans, “Pat tell me you’re joking. I haven’t eaten all day!”

To prove his point, a loud stomach growl sounds from the backseat, and Paterson’s smile turns into a full on chuckle of his own, as you’re doing your best to not encourage him too much over in your seat. In your lap is a big Tupperware of matzah toffee, a coveted recipe that you’re tempted to let Doc try now to hold the poor man over.

“No one told you to fast.” Paterson says, his voice soft and only a little teasing, “Only the first-born in every family fasts the night before Passover.”

“Wish I had known that now, I’m starving.” Doc grumbles, his normal steady mood shifting into something a little exasperated when he wonders aloud, “What even are these fifteen steps?”

“Do you really want to know or are you just asking to ask?” You ask, finally breaking your silence. You love telling people all about Seder, love talking about the holiday. It’s one of Paterson’s favorites too, and his eyes practically light up at the thought of getting to teach his friend.

“No I want to know.” Doc scratches the back of his neck, “I did some reading but…”

“Well, it starts with the Kadesh.” You let Paterson take the lead, loving the way the deep rumble of his voice soothes your ears. He explains, “It’s a blessing over the first cup of wine, and to commemorate and sanctify the holiday. Then there’s the Urchatz, a ritual hand-washing to cleanse ourselves before we begin.”

Paterson drives steadily, carefully through the trees, remembering how he had always dreaded the next step. You pinch at his nose playfully when it crinkles up, his expression endearing.

“Next comes the Karpas, the first food that we get to eat although it isn’t really…food food. It’s a piece of green vegetable, I think we’re using parsley this year?” Paterson asks, looking at you. Sometimes you used celery, but Paterson’s mom liked to switch it up every other year. You nod, and he continues, “We dip it in salt water to represent the tears our people shed while enslaved in Egypt.”

“Damn, you guys don’t mess around huh?” Doc lets out a laugh at that, and you’re inclined to agree.

“Trust me, it gets way more dramatic.” You say, while Paterson tries to figure out how to find the detour for some road work ahead of him, “Then there’s the Yachatz, where the first piece of matzah is broken in half. The larger piece of matzah is called the afikomen, and is hidden somewhere in the house for the kids to find at the end.”

“Aw that’s pretty cute actually.” Doc smiles, and Paterson beams. He can’t wait until he has children of his own to go running through the house, wreaking havoc.

“Some families do it where the kids have to steal it off the Seder leader’s lap without them noticing, which is also really funny.” You nod, because you also agree, “But it usually distracts the kids during the Maggid, so we personally don’t do it.”

“The Maggid?”

“It’s the longest part of the Seder, this is when we read the long and drawn out story of our Exodus.” Paterson explains, “All the plagues, the slaughter of the first born – ”

“They get slaughtered and they have to fast?” Doc interrupts with raised eyebrows, “That sucks for firstborns.”

“Then we wash our hands again with the Rachtzah,” Paterson only continues with a smirk, glad that his older brother Paul has to wear the brunt of that responsibility. Nevermind that they’re twins, he’s older by two minutes, “And we’re not allowed to talk, it’s a silent hand-washing.”

“Oh do we get to eat now?” Doc’s eyes light up, as his stomach growls again.

Successfully navigating away from the road-block, you and Paterson exchange an apologetic glance.

“No,” He shakes his head, “Then we break the second matzah while saying the Motzi.”

“And then we eat the Maror, the bitter herb.” You add on, “This signifies the bitterness of slavery. Again. But after that we get to eat the Hillel sandwich.”

“Oh thank god – ”

“It’s bitter herb sandwiched between two pieces of matzah.” Paterson squashed Doc’s hopes before he even has a chance to get them too high.

“Dammit!” Doc laughs, feeling like this is the dinner that never ends. He isn’t entirely wrong, but there is relief on his face when Paterson pulls up to the drive-way, and you unbuckle your seat belt, turning over your shoulder to smile at him.

“After that you get to eat though.” You wink.

“For real this time?” Doc asks cautiously, making Paterson nod with a grin.

“For real.” He clips a yarmulke to his hair like the good boy he is, “And I promise it’s worth it.”

The three of you get out of the car, and you make sure that you have everything that you need before going in. Doc looks a little hesitant, eyeing the house that already has music and happy chatter sounding from the slightly open window.

“What do we do after we eat?” Doc asks, his hands in his pocket.

“The kids hunt for that piece of matzah, we do a final blessing after we eat called the Barech, invite a ghost in to come hang out with us and protect us, and then we sing songs.” You offer him a hand for him to hold, knowing that he must feel a little intimidated by it all.

Seder was intimidating for a lot of people, even those who had celebrated it for years. But then again, rituals are meant to be shared with family and friends, and you’re just glad Doc wanted to see for himself what it was all about.

“Did you say ghost?” Doc immediately blinks, making you laugh – it really was a silly part of the tradition, but an important one nonetheless.

“His name is Elijah, he’s really nice.” Paterson locks the car door and “When Elijah leaves though, we drink another glass of wine and dance. But by that point usually everyone is trashed enough that we all black out on the couch. It all depends.”

Approaching the front step, Doc takes in a deep breath. You slip him a piece of matzah toffee that he happily accepts, eagerly eating the dessert. His face lights up when he tastes how delicious it is, and he can’t help but smile.

“This sounds like one helluva dinner Pat, I gotta say.” Doc sounds almost impressed, that something so elaborate continues to be observed year after year after year.

“Are you ready to find out for yourself?” Paterson asks, gently nudging Doc with his elbow in a friendly gesture.

“If there’s more of this,” Doc points to the matzah toffee, “Then I’m more than ready.”

The three of you grin and Paterson steps through the threshold with your hand securely held in his, as the family welcomes you all and gives a most warm welcome to Doc, who finds that by the end of Seder after four full glasses of wine on an empty stomach, it is one helluva dinner indeed.

-------------------

Taggin’ some Paterson lovin’ friends! @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @sunflowersinthesnow @steeevienicks @the-unmanaged-mischief @chapterhappygirl

#paterson #paterson x reader #paterson/reader #paterson x you #paterson imagine #paterson fanfic #adam driver fanfic #adcu #passover #jewish!reader #glassbxttless

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im-an-anxious-wreck · 3 years

Text

Chapter Five

Said I'm Fine But We Both Know I'm Faking. I'm Not Feeling Numb, I'm Just Feeling Everything At Once

Word Count: 5,066

Link to The Effects Of Family chapter collection

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After they cleaned themselves and the kitchen up, they did eventually get around to the actual baking, making sure to make at least one thing that each person would like.

Janus helped in the kitchen until Patton started supper, choosing to instead watch from the kitchen bar, making some helpful comments.

"Oh, here's the salt you were looking for."

"Oh! Thank you, Kid— hey! That's sugar."

"...Oh, is it? I hadn't noticed. Oopsie…”

Janus rooted through the box that contained the jars of spices Patton had left on the kitchen bar. “Oh, what about this spice?"

"...Uh, cinnamon... in soup? Hmm…" Patton pretended to think about it, obviously stalling for time to think of a polite way to decline.

Janus only lasted a couple more seconds before he cracked, laughing at Patton's expression. "Yes, I definitely think it's totally normal to put cinnamon in soup."

"Oh!" Patton laughed too. "Okay, well, I thought so! But like, sometimes it's a little hard to tell. You're just so sneaky!"

"Although actually…" Janus raised his human eyebrow.

"No," Patton said, not unlike a parent scolding their child.

"I'm only teasing." Janus raised his hands in mock surrender. "Of course, if we were cooking with Remus…" Janus set his head on his hand, elbow on the counter. "Well, it's a lot more likely to end up in there."

"I bet! His food tastes are a bit more… um, unique? Er, eccentric?"

"Oh, please, call them what they are, disgusting."

"Janus!"

"Oh, don't worry. He'd actually be quite offended to know you were censoring what you actually thought about him."

"But I don't think he's disgusting! We just have very different tastes in food. Well, really in everything… but that's okay! Everything would be boring if we were all the same. I mean, sure it would be nice if we had something in common for us to talk about… just, anything, but that's okay! We're making do… we are. It's just… just slow work."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, you two will get there. I'm sure of it."

"Oh, I— thanks."

"Of course… So, I know you didn't want to add cinnamon, but what about some caramel?"

"I… no, thank you, Kiddo."

"Hah, nicely handled."

…

Why was Janus still there?

The baking was over, that's all he'd been invited for. He really should stop bothering Patton now...

But he'd always been one for overstaying his welcome. Like all Dark Sides, he excelled in showing up where he wasn't wanted, but that was bound to get annoying. They would, no doubt, soon tire of him.

Sure, Virgil got accepted after showing up time after time, despite them wishing he would go away. Virgil had gotten accepted... but then again, he'd always been a special case.

Was Janus actually foolish enough to think they'd ever want him? To think that maybe, if he was good enough, he could be accepted?

Oh gods. He really was that foolish, wasn't he? Why did he always insist on causing everyone so much trouble?

He just always had to mess it up. All he knew how to do was lie and mess things up.

"Oh, Kiddo, can you pass me the celery from the fridge?"

"Mm." Janus quickly got up and walked around the kitchen bar.

Being helpful would make them want to keep him around longer of course, but he, quite selfishly, didn't want that to be the only thing he could provide.

Janus grabbed the celery and handed it to Patton.

"Thank you!"

He wanted them to keep him around because they wanted to. Because they liked him.

But that was never going to happen. They were never going to care about him... And certainly not in the same way that he cared about them.

Patton side-eyed Janus from where he was cutting up celery, and frowned. "Hey, Janus? Are you alright?"

If Janus didn't know any better, he'd think Patton was concerned. But that was ridiculous.

As much as Janus wanted it to be true, why would Patton ever be concerned for him?

That'd imply Patton cared for Janus and that certainly wasn't true… right?

"Kiddo? Is something wrong?"

Janus almost broke at Patton's soft voice. If Patton didn't care, how the hell did he sound like it? And why! Nothing made much sense anymore.

Why did Patton care about Janus? Did Patton care? Did Janus? It was loud. So loud. Like hundreds of little bugs buzzing in his ears. Why was the clock that loud? That shouldn't even be allowed. It wouldn’t stop. Why wouldn’t it stop?

"...Janus?"

What did Patton want? Why did he care? What could he possibly want from Janus? Could Janus give it to him? Maybe he'd like Janus better if he could just figure out what Patton wanted.

The damn clock just kept ticking, onward and onward, never ceasing, seeming to not care at all that it was sending Janus over the edge.

If Janus could just think, just for a moment. Then, he could figure out what Patton wanted, and finally give it to him.

"J— Janus? You okay? You've just been staring at the clock… You know you can go do something else if you wanna, right? I'm not tryina keep you here if you'd rather be somewhere else. O— or if you have something you need to do…

"You can always leave if you want or need to, Kiddo. I don't mind! Just let me know. I'm not a mind reader, ya kno—"

CRACK…

For a moment Janus wasn't sure that sound wasn't his heart breaking, until he looked down and saw the smashed clock at his feet.

"Janus! Oh, shiiiioooouutt, are you okay?" Patton stepped even closer, hand half raised.

A sob escaped Janus' lips. "Ye—" He tried to take a deep breath but it trembled about as much as his body was. "I'm absolutely fine."

"Oh, Kiddo. It's alright! You just got a bit overwhelmed." Patton tried to put his hand on Janus' shoulder, but he quickly shrugged it off just like before, the contact almost searing.

"I'm fine. There's nothing wrong."

"It's okay. Sometimes things get to be too much. And sometimes we break stuff. But it's okay—"

"Yes, it is. Now if you'll excuse me I need to clean this up." Hot, fat, angry tears slid down Janus' face against his will. And although his words and tone were sharp and punchy, there was nothing Janus would rather do than fall into Patton's arms and cry (and maybe talk) his troubles away.

"Oh, here, Baby. Let me help."

Another sob escaped Janus. "N—no. It's fine. I can d— do it. It's my mess a— anyway."

"Oh, Honey, no. It's okay. I want to help."

"Hah!" The scoff turned bitter in Janus' mouth. "Why would— why— why—" Janus whimpered and the tears rolled down his cheeks faster than ever.

"Why what? Hmm?"

Janus tried to wipe away the tears but every time he attempted to dry his cheeks, a new, fresh cascade of tears dripped down.

"Oh, Kiddo. Can I hug you?"

And oh, Janus could just imagine it, practically feeling the big, warm, safe arms around his shoulders as he buried his face in the crook of Patton's neck, arms wrapped tightly around Patton's back.

Sure, Patton would hug Janus, but he wouldn't actually want to. He'd feel obligated to.

And the only thing worse than this deep horrible aching in his chest, was Patton feeling like he had to touch Janus.

He couldn't do that to Patton. He wouldn't do that to Patton.

He wouldn't be that selfish.

Out of seemingly nowhere, Janus felt a burning hand on his shoulder, thoroughly shocking him out of his thoughts. He cried out and flinched back, slamming his elbow particularly hard on the cabinet.

"Oh, it's okay, Baby!" Patton jerked his hand back. "I won't hug you unless you want me to."

Janus just sobbed harder.

Of course he wanted Patton to hug him. That was the whole problem. He wanted to just fall into his arms and sob all these bad feelings away.

But he couldn’t.

Patton didn't deserve to deal with all of Janus' shit. Or with any of it, for that matter.

And yet here Janus was. Clock broken (albeit not as much as Janus), Janus a sobbing mess, and there was Patton. Being as perfect as ever, offering to hug Janus! Janus of all people.

Of course Janus wanted to accept.

But after everything, no. It wasn't fair to Patton.

It's not like he could give much of anything back, and even if he could, his flaws would far outweighed any good he'd do.

"I'll get the broom and we can clean up together, okay?"

Patton had Roman, Logan and Virgil. He didn't need—or even want—someone like Janus. Someone broken and lonely and clingy and— and. Woah, pretty sure the floor wasn’t supposed to be swaying underneath his feet.

"Kiddo?"

He sat down, using the cabinet to lower himself onto the floor.

"That's okay! You just take a minute and I'll clean up, okay?"

It was hard to think, thoughts and feelings all clamoring around, fighting to be noticed, not unlike himself.

"Janus? Janus…? Shoot. Well, I hope you feel better soon, Kiddo. Just let me know if ya need anything, okay?"

Janus was vaguely aware of Patton cleaning up his mess, but could barely find it in himself to breathe, let alone move. Gods, for being the side in charge of self-care, he really should be taking better care of himself.

He wasn't really sure how long he sat there, trying to get his breathing under control, and to just be able to think for one goddamn minute, but it had been long enough, and apparently severe enough, that Patton had summoned the others.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the touch starved part of his mind supplied, they weren't too close, instead gathering in the kitchen entrance, whispering in hushed, worried tones.

His mind was too sluggish to even begin to understand what they were saying, more focused on his breathing than whatever solutions they were coming up with to get him to leave.

It continued that way for several minutes, until it finally finally felt like his lungs weren't going to explode, and he got his breathing semi under control. And wow, he could almost form thoughts again!

He was just about to tell them they didn't worry about him, and sink out to his room and cry his eyes out some more, when Patton glanced over.

He seemed to notice that Janus looked a bit more like he wasn't about to throw a temper tantrum again, and rushed over.

"Janus! Oh, thank goodness. Are you okay? I didn't mean to— Oh geez, I'm so sorry, Kiddo. I just—"

Patton crouched down a few feet away from Janus, Logan standing to the right of him.

Logan sat down on Janus' left and encouraged Patton to do the same.

"Patton. Give him a moment to collect himself and speak. Having just had an anxiety attack, I'd imagine he has quite the nasty headache."

Janus huffed. Boy, did he.

"Ouph," Patton cut himself off before adding a quick, "Sorry."

Janus could see Virgil pacing and flapping his hands out of the corner of his eye.

"Is he okay?!" There was desperation and panic in Virgil's voice, and he was obviously anxious, his eyeshadow thicker and darker than usual.

"Mmm, just fine, Virgil. Nothing to worry about."

Virgil blanched as his eyeshadow creeped farther down his face. "What… what happened, Jan?"

"Nothing."

Virgil just pursed his lips and glared at Janus.

"Why a— aren't you all letting this go?" Janus asked. "I just had a bit of… panic, is all."

"A bit of panic!? That was not just a bit of panic." Virgil winced as his Tempest Tongue came out a bit at the end. "Sorry. I'm just… worried."

Roman set a comforting hand on Virgil's shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. Janus will be fine. We'll make sure of it, okay?"

"I— yeah… yeah, we'll… yeah."

"I— I'm already fine. So I'll get out of y— your way now. I'm not sorry about all this. G— goodby—" He had only barely gotten a few inches sunk out, when Logan grabbed him, his touch burning Janus' shoulder in a painfully pleasant way.

"Wait, I— apologies for touching you," Logan released him and oh, that was so much worse, "But I, um, we want to assist, if at all possible."

"Yeah, what… are you okay?" Virgil asked.

"Yes," Janus lied.

Virgil finally sat next to Logan and Patton, almost in front of Janus, gently pressing his foot against Janus' ankle.

"Well, yeah, I guess I should've guessed that. Uhhhh…" Virgil nervously fiddled with his hoodie strings. "Oh, I know! Check in?"

Janus huffed again. "Alright, fine.

"Physically: head and stomach d— don't hurt; my nose isn't s— stuffed up; and my breathing is definitely as slow and d— deep as it s— should be."

Patton made a small sound of empathy.

Janus glanced over everyone's shoulder to where Roman was still standing, chewing on his thumb, obviously lost in thought.

What could he be thinking about?

"Thank you," Virgil said. "Can… can you do mentally too, Jan?"

"I— um... m— mentally: shit. Other than that, n— not really."

"Okay, that's okay. You're doing good."

"Virgil's right. You're doing very well," Logan murmured.

Virgil looked over at Roman. "Hey, Princey, you feel like joining us any time soon?"

Roman finally shook himself out of his stupor and walked around Virgil and Janus' legs, sitting to Janus' right.

"Sorry, just… just thinkin'."

"Nah, you're good, man."

Despite Janus essentially being boxed in, Sides on all sides, cabinet behind him, he felt a bit more at ease with Roman there.

Ever since that… well, vulnerability in Roman's room, they had been a bit more comfortable around each other. They'd been almost understanding of each other.

Virgil was comforting too, but with their past, their relationship was still a bit… shaky. Even at the best of times.

"Hey." Roman took Janus' hand and, as Roman cradled it to his warm cheek, Janus had to stomp down the urge to gasp, vision blurring slightly.

"Roman? Perhaps that isn't the best idea."

"W— what? I—" Janus whimpered.

Roman was going to stop touching Janus. He probably didn't even want to to begin with, and wasn't even fully thinking, so used to comforting the others.

"He's only becoming more distressed, Roman," Logan warned.

But the thought of Roman pulling away pulled at his heartstrings, a physical ache shooting through his chest.

"But—" Roman started, only to be interrupted by Patton.

Of course, they were always looking out for Roman. Who'd want to touch him anyway?

"Kiddo, me trying to touch him was what made him this upset in the first place."

Shit, he was crying again... Had he ever even stopped?

"But I just think—"

"Kiddo," Patton warned.

Janus couldn't control his wild breathing as Logan reached over to pull Roman's hand away from Janus'. Roman stubbornly tightened his hold.

"Wait—"

"Logan—"

Virgil grabbed Logan's wrist. "Hey! I don't know what Pat's talking about, or what happened earlier, but listen to me. Unless he's explicitly said otherwise, touch is the best way to help."

Logan pulled his hand back like he'd been burned. "Shit, I didn't—"

"It's alright, Lo. You didn't know. I'm just telling you so you will."

"I… noted."

Roman loosened his death grip a bit and Janus panicked, breath catching in his throat. "No, wait—"

"Hey, hey. It's okay. I'm not letting go." And true to his word, he didn't, rubbing reassuring circles in Janus' hand with his thumb. "Just making sure I'm not squeezing too tight. Okay?"

Janus nodded, relief and exhaustion slamming into him, making his shoulders slump.

"Okay so…" Patton frowned. "I'm a little confused. And I hope this isn't a bad time but… I— earlier, when I tried to touch him, and when I asked if he wanted a hug, he reacted like… well it just… seemed to, hmm I don't know how to put it but like... it seemed to almost hurt him? Or like it made him really upset.

"Like before, he was just zoning out and I got concerned, so I asked if he was alright but he wasn't saying anything or moving! S— so I tapped him and he didn't react well to that but then I was a complete idiot who doesn't learn from his mistakes, and asked if he wanted a hug and that really made it worse and I just… I don't know…

"I guess I'm just wondering w— why that happened a— and how I can keep it from happening again. Like what—" Patton looked in Janus' eyes, sorrow cutting Janus to the quick. "How do I know when you don't wanna be touched?"

How the hell was Janus supposed to tell Patton that it was because he didn't want Patton to feel obligated or burdened with him? Because it would only make them send him away faster. Because he couldn't stand the thought of being annoying or forcing himself into their lives, only taking, never giving.

"I… I don't k— know."

Roman hummed sympathetically, and continued to rub circles in the back of Janus' hand.

How was he supposed to tell them it wasn't because he didn't actually want to be touched? He did! He just… couldn't do that to Patton…

To any of them.

"Was it something I did?" Patton asked. "Like did I do something that made you not wanna touch me?"

"No!" Of course, Janus had managed to mess it all up even further. He should have known that Patton would blame himself.

"Are you sure? Because you seem okay with everyone else touching you. I— well, everyone but me."

"I promise, P— Patton. It was just... w— wrong place, wrong time. Y— you didn't, I just— it was… um..."

"It's alright, Janus," Logan assured. "We understand it's been an overwhelming day. No one will fault you if you wish to talk about this at a different time."

Janus shook his head, making everything spin again, but at least it wasn't as bad as before. He took a deep breath, trying to gain a hold of his breathing long enough to assure everyone. This was something that had to be done, best not to put it off.

"No, I c— can do it n— now."

"Are you sure, Kiddo?"

Janus took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah." At least his voice didn't shake as much this time.

"Okay, if you're sure. Just let me know if you don't wanna talk about it anymore. Like Logan said, we can always talk about it later."

"...Right."

"...So is there anything I can do to prevent… what happened today from happening again?"

"I… I don't know."

"I— if it's okay with you, Janus," Virgil hesitantly said, "I do know one little sign of when it's okay or not to touch you. If you're okay with me… like if you want me to tell them, er, are okay with that, o— or whatever."

Janus couldn't help but give a sigh of relief, Virgil could explain it, and if he was right, great, it would take the pressure off of Janus and he wouldn't have to say anything. And if Virgil was wrong, but it was still a good enough explanation, Janus could just use whatever excuse Virgil thought of, still making it where he didn't have to try to muddle through an awkward, incomprehensible explanation.

Janus shifted slightly to relieve some of the pressure from sitting on the hard floor for so long. "P— please do."

And of course, if the explanation was true and hit a little too close to home, or was wrong and too embarrassing/awkward, he could just say Virgil didn't know what he was talking about.

Plus, they probably wouldn't take it as seriously because it was a second hand account. Although, now that Janus thought about it, maybe they would trust it more because it came from Virgil.

Virgil nodded and took a shaky breath. "Okay so, I usually, although really I didn't realise I did this until now 'cuz it was subconsciously, but anyway, I guess I can tell because of how his eyebrows are."

Janus raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Yeah! Kinda like that, actually. So the first time I'm gonna touch him, I go slow and see what his eyebrows do. Like if his eyebrows go up then he's fine with touch. And sometimes he'll combine that with a 'well? Why are you taking so long, I don't have all day here' look, then I know that he's fine with like, pretty much whatever.

"If his eyebrows are neutral and he's just staring at my hand, then I know he needs grounding and comforting contact. I usually start with hands… yeah, hands are great. Don't wanna overwhelm him.

"And if his eyebrows are furrowed, his breathing short, and an almost wild... like a caged animal sorta look to his eyes, then it's better to step back and try to get him to breathe till he's calm enough for me to touch him.

"And of course there's combinations and like nuances or whatever but that's like the basics o— or whatever."

Janus blinked at Virgil in shock. "How the fuck did you know all that?"

Janus had thought Virgil might get some of it right, but that was just scarily accurate. Hell, Janus hadn't even realised he did that until Virgil was describing it.

"Oh, um, what can I say, anxiety is rather observant. I just… you know, needed to know how to help you, and touch is the best way. And well, if you were nonverbal," Virgil shrugged, "I needed to be able to tell if it was okay, and so yeah, I… I picked some signs."

"Ah, that makes perfect sense, Virgil." Logan adjusted his glasses. "I have, figuratively, always said you are a very emotionally intelligent metaphysical being, which you have yet again proved to be true."

"Oh, I—" Virgil fiddled with his hoodie strings again, a small smile on his face. "Thanks, L."

"I'm not really sure what any of that meant," Roman said confidently, "But I agree with Blackberry Pi!"

"Yeah, you're one smart cookie, Virgie!"

Virgil rolled his eyes and half-heartedly swatted at the others, attempt foiled by his growing smile.

"Okay okay, guys. I get it. I'm almost smart sometimes."

"Hmm, that's not true, Virgil." Janus tapped his foot against Virgil's. "You're smart all the time. And you can't refute that because I know when things are true or not."

Virgil shoved his hands in his pockets and muttered something like 'pretty bastard thinks he knows everything'. Janus must've misheard the first word though.

"Oh, Janus, I just wanted to say… well, I…" Patton bit his lip, eyes wide with, what Janus assumed to be, regret. "I'm just, I'm so sorry! I should've picked up on the fact that you didn't want to be touched then. I should've known! But I just made it worse."

"Hey, how could you have known? It's… Patton, it's not your fault. It's just… a thing that happened, one that didn't go our way— look just, it's alright. Let's just move on, okay?"

"Really?"

”Really. I would… I would prefer that it doesn't happen again but let's just, I'm done talking about it. I— you're alright, Patton."

"Aww, thanks, Kiddo. And I'll try really hard to make sure I don't make the same mistake again. I promise!"

"Mm." Gods, today was really wearing him out.

"I, um..." Patton trailed off.

"Yes?"

"Is… is it okay to ask if I can touch you? You can say no, I… I'll understand."

"Well, you can always ask. No guarantee I'll say yes but… you can at least ask."

"Okay, thanks, Janus! I really appreciate it." Only Patton would get this excited about being able to ask if he could touch someone. Especially someone as repulsive as Janus.

"So, then can… um, can I touch you, Kiddo?"

Janus hesitantly nodded and warily eyed Patton's approaching hand as Patton scooted closer. Janus took a deep breath. "...Okay, you, uh... you may."

Patton beamed at him and pushed some hair out of his face. "There! Now I can see you."

Why were they acting so weird? Gods, they were so unbelievably kind, even to people they didn't like.

"I would like to," Logan nervously adjusted his glasses, "To apologize, um, particularly for when I attempted to get Roman to stop touching you. My intention wasn't to cause you more distress but, unfortunately, that's what transpired. I should have tried to check in with you to find out what is best for you right now, but I didn't. I just assumed I knew best, and it caused you undue distress, so for that I am truly sorry."

"You didn't know. You just did what you thought was best. Can't fault you for… for that."

"Oh, as true as that is, it's still important to own up to and apologize for one's mistakes. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I— you're... you're right." Janus huffed gently. "As usual. Oh, and it's all good, so don't… don't worry about it. Okay?"

"I shall endeavor not to."

"Awwwww, I'm so glad we got this worked out!" Patton pushed his glasses further up on his nose. "Oh, how ya feelin', Kiddo? You feelin' any better?"

"I… suppose so. A— a bit. I— yeah."

"That's good!" Roman smiled, making Janus' heart flutter. "Well, of course we want you to feel a lot better, but it's okay that you're not quite there yet! It's been a," Roman waved his hand around as he tried to think of the word he was looking for, "An emotional time! And we, you know, wanna help you, if you'll let us."

"I— right." Yeah, sure, like Janus would just let himself burden them even farther. He couldn't help but mentally roll his eyes.

But Roman just smiled even wider, and even softer somehow, clearly impervious to Janus' depressing thoughts. The crinkling of Roman's eyes only successfully made Janus' breath catch in his throat.

Of course Janus' stomach just had to ruin the soft moment, growling loudly to remind him that he hadn't eaten recently.

"Oh!" Patton exclaimed. "When's the last time you had a full meal?"

There was a painfully long silence.

"Kiddo?"

"Recently…"

"Yeah and how recent, is recently?" Roman frowned.

"Oh, you know…"

"Kiddo?" Patton looked like a stern… no, that wasn't quite right— concerned parent. "Wh— when did you last eat?"

"Last night," Janus finally admitted, refusing to meet any of their eyes, cheeks burning in shame.

"Janus…" Patton set a hand on Janus' shoulder and Janus couldn't help but wince.

"Oh, Honey, no. You're not in trouble, okay?”

Janus nodded, involuntarily sniffling a bit.

"Okay, I'm going to ask you another question. When… when did you last have a meal that filled you up?"

"...Um, I g— guess last time I ate with all of you."

"But that was last week!" Patton cried, putting both of his hands back in his lap, rocking back and forth slightly.

Janus flinched.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you. I just… am worried. That was— it's been... "

"Shit. Jan, have you been eating much at all?" Virgil exclaimed. "Sorry! That came out sharper than I meant. I just… didn't realise how bad it'd gotten again."

"...A— again?" Roman looked between both of them confusedly.

"Aw, shit."

"It's alright, Virgil. They might as well know." Janus took a deep breath. "I… haven't exactly had the best track record with remembering to or feeling like e— eating."

"Oh, Kiddo." Patton set a hand on Janus' thigh, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

"Well, that is… concerning, to say the least," Logan said. "Later I'd like to discuss how we can prevent this from happening again but it's already been a very long day for everyone, so for now... Patton, Virgil, you two should fix him some food, preferably something easy on the stomach."

"Oh, I was making soup, the potatoes needed a minute longer but it should be ready now!"

"Ah, excellent, that is a typical gentle food and as long as it is a reasonably sized bowl—" he gave a pointed look at Patton, "—I see no problems arising from that."

Patton and Virgil quickly scrambled up, although, they were clearly still keeping an eye on everyone on the floor as they finished up supper.

"Roman, go get a few blankets and pillows for the couch." Logan turned back towards Janus. "We'll get you set up there and we can watch a few movies. If that is agreeable?"

"I— yeah. Sounds good."

"Good… Hmm, would you like me to summon Remus?" His name had barely left Logan's lips when Remus popped up.

"Did someone say Remu— OH SHIT, Janny, you dumb fuck, what did you do?!" He bounced over and crouched down to examine Janus. "Did you go around hitting your head on things without me again? Ooh, is there blood?"

"Again?" Patton looked horrified. "Is that something that happens a lot?" He moved his trembling hands to cover his mouth.

”No," Janus said, voice cracking because of his dry throat. "He's just saying that because he's Remus and he says some distressing things. I do not make a habit of banging my head against objects."

"How do we know you're not lying?" Roman softly asked.

"Nah, he's not lying," Remus added helpfully, jumping back up to his feet, and bouncing from foot to foot and heel to toe.

"Oh. Um, okay…"

"Well... that was anticlimactic."

"You're not right, Virgil. It was definitely climactic. In fact, it's the most climactic thing I've ever seen!"

Virgil snorted. "Yeah, okay. I totally believe you."

Logan cleared his throat. "Apologies for interrupting your—" he held up a flashcard, ”—'banter' but if I'm not mistaken, and I'm not, I do believe we have someone to take care of."

"Oh, yeah, don't worry about it, Lo. We're on it." Virgil gave his classic two finger salute as he turned back towards the toast he was making.

As much as Janus wanted to protest all the trouble they were going to for him, the idea of taking care of him was… nice. Even if it didn't mean anything to them, and even if it was just because they pitied him.

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