#karadin

I am Very Late in replying to this, as it is already 2024, but oh man -- there are so many candidates! I was going to say perhaps learning to make my own italian beef sandwiches, but really that was a 2022 project, and it's not like I haven't been eating them for over 15 years at this point.

I think it has to be something I ate when I was in Europe in April. I don't know if you could call it a "food discovery" so I disqualified the conveyor belt cheese restaurant, although do strongly recommend, it was a hoot. And I ate a lot of curried chicken salad but I've also been making that for years, so that was more research than discovery.

I think it has to be the fried artichoke in Rome. If/when I go back I don't think I'd go back to the same restaurant but I would definitely eat that again for at least two meals.

I mean...it's that or the Grandpa Balls I had for dessert.

can you let out side or back seams to make waistcoats fit? stripes in these areas might look cool.

​Sort of, but it would take a lot more work than that to have it not look weird. The fronts are so much narrower on the old patterns that the armholes would be scooped out really far forwards if I added that much onto the side seam.

[How ominous that ‘voluntarily’ is 👀 I’m not sure this is exactly what you had in mind at all, but it’s what popped into my head!]

It is the dead of night, far past curfew when Lan Qiren hears something clank in the next room. He is upright in bed, sword in hand before his eyes and ears, his mind can focus on what he is perceiving, still fuzzy with sleep. Someone is moving around his house with confidence; not loud, but not quiet. Searching?

An insolent Junior? A burglar? That horrible Wei Wuxian? The indignation at each new option has his fury mounting higher until he is drawn up to his full height, bristling. Whoever it is is going to get the heavy end of a bastinado, no matter which it is. He slams open the door of his room to confront the hooligan.

It is a shock, however, when he sees Lan Xichen serenely pouring tea into 2 cups from where he kneels at the table. When he looks up at the bang of Lan Qiren’s arrival, his nephew smiles. And that more than anything stops him from letting loose the angry demand that hovers on his lips. He sheathes his sword, slowly.

He’s...smiling.

“Hello, shufu. I hope you don’t mind, I made us some tea.”

He has been here a while, then, setting the table, boiling the water. That’s more than a little unnerving, combined with his ease. 

It is distressing to realize that the sight of Xichen smiling was now something that is uncommon--he had always been a pleasant child. Dutiful, yet kind, easy to smile, quick to laugh. Ever since all that terrible nonsense enacted on everyone by Jin Guangyao weeks ago, his nephew had been something of a shade of his former self; gray, flat, and lifeless. Familiar in a horrible way. 

Like his father. 

He has performed his duties and attended meetings. He speaks quietly and without embellishment or affect. He even lacks the taciturn solemnity Wangji cultivates. He’s just...not there. He has not socialized or traveled, he does not make appearances at non-essential Clan gatherings. And he has not smiled. This is...a very odd time for that to change. In the middle of the night. In Lan Qiren’s sitting room. Without his permission.

“It’s past curfew.”

Xichen blinks and looks out the window into the blackness beyond. “Oh. So it is! My apologies, I’ll add it to the list,” he adds with a self deprecating air, making an invisible tick mark beside his head. His movements are easy and expansive.

“What list--?” Lan Qiren draws closer, and is swamped in the nose-singeing vapors of alcohol rolling off him. He recoils in horror and snaps, “Xichen!”

Xichen laughs and it rings like a feverishly bright bell, raising the hairs of wrongness down the back of Lan Qiren’s neck. “Hm? Oh. Don’t worry, shufu. I’ll punish myself for everything in the morning, you needn’t trouble yourself.” Brightly, he offers him his teacup, which Lan Qiren takes automatically, it’s heat searing his fingertips

Xichen is watching him, face expectant and almost eager as he extends a hand to the other side of the table. “Please, sit!”

It’s becoming a little clearer, now. Xichen’s hair is simply pulled back in a low, messy horsetail at the nape of his neck, his robes are those that he sleeps in, his headband missing from his forehead. He is as gaunt as he has been, dark circles and all, but now his eyes burn brightly. His smile seems genuine, and that’s what sets Lan Qiren the most ill at ease. He has found alcohol, somewhere. A lot of it. This brightness is a short wick in a nearly empty lantern and it’s masking something Lan Qiren can’t parse. It makes him angry. “What on earth are you doing, Xichen? What’s the matter with you?” he demands. “It’s the middle of the night! You should be in your quarters! It’s against the--This is not proper behavior for--”

“I know, I know, but,” he interrupts--he interrupts--and holds up a finger as if making a very important point. His hands are shaking. “I thought of something. And I just...I just need to know.” The tips of the smile grow stiff and his eyes glaze, slightly. Still wide and guileless. Still burning. “Please. Sit.”

Slowly, suspiciously, Lan Qiren sinks down onto his cushion and Xichen’s smile widens in satisfaction and he busies himself fussing with the table’s set up. There is a strange fervor behind his words. And a fragility. The tea is oversteeped, Lan Qiren can tell just from the bitter smell wafting up on the steam. Xichen always brews it perfectly. The only reason he hasn’t already sent his nephew out of here with ringing ears is the fact that he is being so strangely...erratic. Wangji, he has grown to expect disappointment from in this way, but never Xichen. 

can you tag for the non con drug use?

I’ll do it this once but I want to take this opportunity to make a more general statement, since I don’t think I’ve ever spoken about this:

The Fundamental Things Apply by karadin

Johnlock Love Letters #1842

2020 needs more fluff