#Their parents want them to develop their own recipes

[ave-the-enby]

Thinking about CJ and Isaac, I'll introduce them better at a later date. But they're identical twins. Anyways, Isaac is the one who tries to get his parents recipes but they tell him no. One day CJ tried and was told no as well. So they tried teaming up and after a long while their parents gave in. Or so they thought, they weren't given any exact measurements to their dismay and also found out at a much later date that they weren't told all the ingredients. CJ caught his momma adding an ingredient when she told him to go get something from the garage. They felt incredibly betrayed.

[youtellmeman]

Spoilt

jake sully x Neytiri Sully x Metikayina!Reader

smut

warnings - p in v, vaginal fingering, slight scent kink, oral (f recieving), threesome, lil tiny bit of angst, kinda implied age gap but nothing more than 5 years,

i love jake and neytiri sm

——————

This was your clan. Your clan, your territory, your people,  everything that covered this expanse was yours. And maybe you had gotten too comfortable with getting everything in sight being yours, but it wasn’t like you were going around exploiting your power. You were clan princess, the people liked to give you things and you never took more than you gave.

That being said, you were currently in the biggest of moral dilemmas, considering the thing that you currently wanted was a married man and his wife in your bed. A man who had brought his family to your clan in hopes of being spared refuge from the blasted sky people that had returned, and had been oh so grateful when you’d convinced your parents olo-eyktan and tashik of your clan to grant them their wish. You’d taught them your ways, saw to it that your siblings were as kind as possible, you yourself had even taught them how to ride their very own Ilu. And as it seemed developed a certain curiosity for the heads of the family,

A curiosity that left you wondering what other biological differences were hidden away from your prying eyes could see and how the differences you could see would take effect in the mating process. For instance their fingers, while thinner, were longer than those of the Metkayina people and believe you’d spent multiple nights trying to replicate how deep they’d be able to reach inside of you. The way Neytiri's breasts were smaller and firmer looking than yours, which were slightly more full and soft to the touch. It made for countless nights of trite replication of something you’d never experienced and days where you couldn’t look either of them in the eye due the prior night's activities.

Like today for instance, your people gathered around for festivities, celebrating the full moon that had blessed you with high tides and bountiful catches. But instead of being completely enveloped in the festivities of your people as you usually would’ve been, your eyes were glued to the pair of dark blue people sitting next to one of your many fire pits, secluded from the dancing that was happening all around them.

So you paused your dancing and made your way to them, acknowledging their children who had been dragged into the festivities by your little siblings.

“What are you both doing sitting here, so still.” You ask a smile toying on your lips, discreetly checking them you, You’d organized for them to be made traditional Metikayina clothing for the night. “Tonight is a night of celebration, you should be dancing.” Neytiri’s eyes bored into your own and her lips twitched upwards slightly, but she said nothing.

“We hate to be rude but you all dance a bit differently than we’re used to, kid.” Jake recipes looking around at the clusters of people and you couldn’t help but do the same, face wrinkling in confusion before sparking with an idea.

“Then I teach you! Come come it is easy I assure you!” Your face breaks out in a smile and you can see in Jake's face that that wasn’t what he’d hoped would happen in response to his comment, Neytiri on the other hand seems more than amused.

“Yes Ma Jake, go learn. You should learn all you can remember.” You laugh as the words leave her lips, missing the way Neytiri's tale thumps against the ground in response. ‘You should learn all you can.’ were words Jake often used against his own children when they complained of your different ways. 

“Yes Jake see, you must learn. Be more like your mate with her eagerness to learn!” You say making Neytirir’s ears shoot up, eyes darting back to your face forming a small frown. Jake shooting her a shit eating grin and before either of them can deny your impromptu lessons you’ve grabbed them both by the arms to drag them towards the music.

Stopping in a less dense area that still thumbs with the vibrations of music you face them once more. The both of them standing a tad awkwardly still amidst the groups of dancing na’vi.

“ Come, Jake I teach you first.” You say ling yourself up with his side so you're both facing the same direction.Giving him the directions of stepping back then sliding forward slightly. “It is easy, see? Watch my feet.” Speaking as you guide him. 

“Come Neytiri you do the same with your feet.” You keep at this for a moment letting them get the footwork down. Having to spend a bit of time coaxing Neytiri into trying at all, while Jake seems to be a more focused student. Eyes glued to your every movement in what you take to be an attempt to get down the moves, it really isn’t.

Eventually though Neytirirs stubbornness subsides and she begins to try the foot work, picking it up much quicker than Jake. 

“Good, good! You are both doing very well, now it is time to add what truly makes this dancing.” You move to be in front and facing them going over simply the foot work again before speeding up and finally starting to move your hips. Shaking them rapidly,  moving them side to side along with alternating the sides you tilt up and down. Even going as far as to spin in a circle while you move. “Your hips! Move with the rhythm, feel it in your bones. Let your body become fluid guided by the beat of your heart and music.” You say immediately realizing that the both of them have stopped dancing. 

Without thinking you move towards Neytiri. “Move your feet and I will do the rest, hmm?” You ask and she obliges, aware of your every movement. Maybe that’s why she doesn't seem to move away or flinch in shock when your hands come to settle on her hips from behind. 

You both move your feet but instead of working on the movement of your hips you focus on hers. Using your hands to guide their movement, slowly at first then spreading up slightly until you can feel her body beginning to move without your guidance. You let her take the reins, movements spreading up and though a bit clumsy and out of beat she catches on quick, you’ve yet to release her waist. Taking a few seconds to enjoy the way your skin feels below your fingerstips before letting the slide back to your sides.

Then moving onto Jake, his eyes move from the grip you had on his mate's waist to your face, eyes filled to the brim with an emotion you can’t seem to place. Still you surge on, grabbing his waist next and moving it the way you had neytiri’s before.

“The way men dance is very similar to our women. The only difference is the occasional move of hips which the women don't usually replicate. It’sthe rolling of hips. Look at the other men around.” You guide him and your voice has found a softer tone then the previously energy filled one you’d held. Watching as Jake's eyes glide across the crowds around you resting on multiple of the men, before rolling his hips experimentally before falling into the previous moves you taught him. “Good.” You urge him on and he continues as you correct his form here and there before you eventually pull away, letting the tips of your fingers graze the protruding bone of his hip as you pull away. 

Maybe they weren’t dancing perfectly, like one of the natives might, but they were dancing. And eywa did look they good doing it. Neytirir had lost all previous restraint she’d had, letting herself fall into the way your people danced. Arms swaying in the air around her. Jake slightly more stiff yet seemingly enjoying the experience of it all, Locking eyes with you before his eyes slide to his mates moving form. Pulling her into dance closer, hips rolling and hand caressing her arm as she preened at the touch. 

And all of a sudden you felt as if you were watching something intimate, something you could never be a part of. It left your chest tightening in yearning and a smile on your face faltering. You needed to get away.

“You are both wonderful students. I’ll leave you both to enjoy yourselves and continue to learn without me. It’s getting quite late and I must retire for the night.” You excuse yourself as quickly and politely as possible,missing the way the pair's eyes lock then darting you in concern. Leaving before they can try to convince you to stay.

You make your way through the crowds, smile wiped clean completely and instead replaced with a frown and glassy eyes. Heading towards the direction of your hut, before deciding you didn't want to go there quite yet, instead finding a closed off part of the beach, a place that had always offered your comfort in life. And that was what you needed the most now as your mind was flooded with thoughts on inadequacy and the prospect of living in solitude forever. A few tears slipping down your cheeks before you're able to wipe at your eyes.

“ Ma Tanhi? What is wrong?” For once it’s Neytirir’s voice that breaks the somber silence of your self wallowing, causing your head to snap in her direction. Seeing the mated pair standing a few feet away from where you’re sat on the sand. You promptly shoot up to be standing. Trying to remove any trace of sadness from your face. “What did we do that has made you run from us.”

“Yeah i didnt think our dancing was that bad.” Jake tries to lighten the mood but it does nothing to ease the sadness heavy on your chest. Neytiri smacks his shoulder, clicking her tongue while shooting him a warning glare. “Really though, what's got you so down all of a sudden kid?”

“It is nothing, do not worry yourself with silliness such as my problems.” You try and force a smile on to your face, waving off their concern.

“Hey, if you’ve got a problem it's not silly at all. We’re here to help baby girl, but we can’t do nothin if you don’t tell us what's wrong so why don’t you talk to us.” It’s almost stupid the way your stomach churns at the pet name that falls out his mouth, almost adding the hypocrisy of this all. 

“Yes, what Ma Jake says is true. We care for you, let us ease your pains.” Neytiri urges you forth alongside her husband as they take steps closer. Still as kind as they are, what could you possibly say, that you had feelings for mated na’vi who also happened to be them. You shook your head wordlessly denying their help, though you can't help the way your eyes dart between them longingly. This doesn't go unnoticed

“Ah I see.” Your ears perk up at Jake’s comment. “Tiri, do you see what I see?” Your brows furrowed in confusion, watching them communicate wordlessly had become a norm when you’d become their guide, but it had never bothered you not knowing what they were thinking more than it did in this moment. And within a few seconds of wordless communication, Neytiri's body seemed to relax, all worry dissipating as her tale sways slowly behind her, eyes finding yours once more, gaze almost predatory as a smirk slid across her face. You clench involuntarily at the look in her eyes, arousal ill timed according to you

“I certainly do.” Neytiri almost purrs. “Shall we help her understand?” She raises a brow in Jake's direction as she moves around you slowly and you almost move to keep face with her.

“Understand what?” You try to follow her with your eyes, but that thought is thrown away when you find Jake suddenly incredibly close, fingers grazing your jaw before pinching your jaw between his thumb and index. Guiding your gaze to his own.

“Understand the fact that we want you too, baby.” Jake's eyes are hooded with lust, pupils blown wide as one of his canines digs into the meat of his bottom lip.

“what?” The words leave your lips in an airy whisper.

“Your feelings do not go as unreciprocated as you thought.” Neytirir’s voices husky and you’re suddenly very aware of how her lips brush against your shoulder with every word, breath fanning over your skin.

“I-i don’t-” 

“You don't what?” Jake’s words are sharp as they leave his lips. “You don’t feel the same? Cause if thats it lets be real cause I can smell ya from here and I'm sure Tiri can too. Or do you not understand, because if that's the case we’d be more than happy to make ourselves crystal clear.” His last few words are intentionally slow yet pointed and they have you pressing your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the need to be touched. “Just say the word and we’d be happy to show you just how bad we want for you.” 

“Show me.” The words have barely left your mouth before his lips are slamming into yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip in a silent demand for access to the inside of your mouth and you oblige without a second to waist. Neytiri on the other hand has found a job in leaving dark purple marks along your shoulders and neck as she caresses the side of your hip and letting a hand wander to the front of your waist moving to cup your barely clothed breast in her hand. Both of their movements have you keening between them.

Soon Neytiri's hand is moving from your breast to the side of your neck dragging your face away from Jake's hungry mouth so she can get a taste for you herself. You welcome the change wholeheartedly. While Jake kisses to consume, Neytiri kisses to savor. Hand on your jaw as she takes her time enjoying your taste. And whiles she's busy exploring your mouth Jake takes the opportunity to explore other things. Kissing down the side of your neck that’s exposed, even sucking a few marks onto the parts of your chest are exposed, that is before seemingly growing fed up with the barrier or needed cloth pulling it down so that it sits right below your tits. Giving him full access to what he wanted he surges forward taking one of them into his mouth while he grips the other in his hand, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he pulls at the other gently with his teeth. The action has you whimpering into Neytir’s mouth and she swallows the sound with a pleased hum, not missing a beat.

After you’ve been deemed sufficiently marked Jake does what he’s been imagining since the first time he’d allowed himself to acknowledge his attraction to you. Dropping to his knees in front of, nose almost pressing a kiss right on your pelvic area before untying your tweng, bringing himself face to face with your glistening folds and taking a deep breath through his nose. Groaning at the scent of your arousal. It’s only once Jake lets out a groan of anticipation that Neytiri pulls away, hand on your jaw now guiding you to look down at her mate. 

“Look at him so eager to taste you Ma Tanhi, will you grant him the pleasure.” She says low in your ear while you gaze down into Jake's hungry eyes.

“You gonna let me eat this pretty pussy baby, hmm?” His hands massage the sides of your thighs and don't doubt that he probably saw the way your walls fluttered at the sound of his voice.

“Please, Jake.” It a quiet whimper of a plea but it seems to be just what he needs to hear, inhaling your scent once more before licking a stripe up your slip, flatting out his tongue as it comes to rub over your clit and your knees almost buckle at the sensation. His large hands brace you by your hips and ass while Neytiri holds you against her by the waist effectively letting you melt at their touch without collapsing to the floor.

Jake's assault on your pussy might start off slow but it certainly doesn't stay that way, not when your hands find roots of his locks tugging and pulling him impossibly closer. No instead he focuses most of his attention to your clit dipping his tongue into you here and there. And soon you feel a finger tip prodding at your entrance, sliding in ever so easy with how wet you've grown plus his own saliva. The intrusion has you gasping and you can't help but think about all those nights you tried to replicate what you thought this would be like.

The job you’d done had nothing on the way it actually felt. Thin but long fingers able to reach that spongy spot within you with ease, messaging it as he sucks and flicks at your clit.

“More Jake, more, more.” Your moans are no longer quiet or meek as you grind against his finger and tongue all at once. He’s quick to grant your request, slowly but surely sliding in another finger which has you throwing your head back onto Neytriri’s shoulder. Neytrir who had been watching oh so silently, free hand come up to pinch and tease at one of your tits now found herself moving so that her lips just barely touched the shell of your ear. 

“Look at you taking Ma jake’s fingers so well, tell me how good it feels.” Her lips brush your lobe as she speaks and you can’t help the rapid nods that follow.

“So good, Jake’s tongue feels so good Tiri, so so good!” All comprehensible thought has left your mouth at this point and been replaced with repeated phrases of ‘so good’ ‘more’ ‘please’ . Your climax was growing closer by the second, you could feel it burning below your skin begging to see the light. And soon enough it did, Jake slipping in a third and final finger curling so perfectly inside of you as he pays attention to your swollen clit is what has you shuttering around him. Legs shaking and snapping rigid to hold him between them as you bucked your hips mindlessly against his face. Moans and whines of gibberish leave your lips as you ride out your high before slowly coming down. Releasing Jake’s head from between your thighs, chest heaving, eyes lidded as you watch him look up at you while licking his lips.

“You think you can take another for me babygirl?” The questing has you nodding numbly. There was no way you’d let this encounter over without having had his cock inside you or without having touched Neytiri the way you’d been dreaming of for ages.”Good girl, love. C’mon baby help me lay her back on the sand.” he instructs Neytiri and they do so easily. Once your back is touching the sand, they both remove their respective tewngs, before letting their lips meet and Neytiri hums at the taste of you still on Jake’s tongue.

“You’ve been good so far baby, why don’t you show us how good you can really be, yeah?” You're agreeing dumbly before you can even think to ask what he means, but something inside you registers it wouldn’t matter what either of them asked of you as long as they kept touching you. You don’t have time to think any harder about that, not when there’s a leg crossing over your face and your face to face with Neytiri’s core in seconds.

“Show me then.” It’s a demand the way it leaves her lips and it has you drooling over her. Neytiri’s hands gather your hair in her hands as she leans over you simply holding it in her hands as she braces herself on the sand. In the meantime you can feel Jake lifting one of your legs over his shoulder as he lines himself up with your entrance, head sliding between your lips and prodding at your hole a bit.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” You answer his question with total certainty and immediately they're both moving. Neytiri settles herself on your mouth and Jake slowly sliding into your warmth. Your walls quiver at the intrusion, but you don't get much time to focus on that, not when Neytiri is tugging at your hair in anticipation. Leaving no time to lose you lap at her cunt, drinking up everything she has to offer and she gives it all so willingly. Rocking against your head, he clit rubs against the tip or your nose as you consume her so completely, tongue diving as deep as it can into her core and it leaves her panting and groaning above you.

“Ah Ma Tanhi, so good.” Her words only encourage and you, you push on devouring her to the best of you ability. It's when you finally get the hang of pleasure Neytiri that Jake decides you’ve had enough time to adjust. Having slipped in his whole length while you were occupied. Sliding out leaving on the tip inside before slamming back in and the roughness of the move has you gasping into Neytiri’s cunt, that move causing a moan  to rip through her. 

“Shit, feel so good baby, damnit.” Jake continues drilling into you at an unforgiving pace that has you sucking and moving so unpredictably against Neytiri's pussy she can’t help the way she continues to pull at your braids. “Gonna mold this pussy to my cock, never gonna want anyone but me, fuck.” Jake’s words are rushed and his breathing is ragged and it has you clenching so tightly around him that he’s seeing stars.

Jake knows he won’t be able to hold on for all that long if you keep this up and he wants, needs you to cum first. His thumb finds your clit with ease, rubbing in tight circles that have your eyes rolling to the back of your skull and you feel another earth shattering orgasm nearing faster than ever. 

Neytiri though, she’s right on the edge and all it takes is a few more dips of your tongue into her hole and ruts of her clit against your nose and she’s unravelling above you, back arching so much it has you raising your hands to her waist to help hold her up as you continue to lick her dry. Letting her ride out her orgasm until she’s lifting herself up and off your face. Straddling your head and moving to sit on her ankles, placing your head in her lap. Giving you just the right amount of elevation to see the way your cunt swallows Jakes dick with every thrust. The sight alone is what has you cumming again.

“Oh eywa, Jake!” Are the only real words you get out before its incoherent rambles and moans. Your orgasm is what begins to set off jakes but he holds for as long as possible. Letting you ride yours out for as long as he can bare before pulling out. Stroking himself once, twice, before he's spilling onto your stomach with a groan of both or your names.

Your orgasms leave you gasping for air, but soon as you all recuperate you aid each other in redressing. Walking to your hut, sweet kisses pressed to your lips with promises of visits come morning.

You always did get what you wanted.

——————

Yuh lmk what you think

Likes and Reblogs appreciated

[panlight]

hi! i love reading the discussions you have about twilight. i was wondering, what do you think Bella’s career would be if she cared enough to have one? ik Stephanie said teacher, but that seems really ooc for Bella tbh. can’t see her wanting to be a housewife for long either, especially when recipe grows up and leaves. i could see her as a writer maybe, though im not sure about the type of books she’d write (vampire romance ?? 😭). also maybe something with book stores or libraries. teaching seems like an extroverted job, and she’s the opposite of that.

You're right that SM said that Bella had planned to become a teacher. She said that her mother's career was the one thing Bella admired about Renee, but that Bella wanted to teach older kids, so like high school. But I agree with you that doesn't really seem like a Bella thing to do. Bella doesn't even like high school students while she IS one herself, I don't see her enjoying that kind of work at all.

Although to be fair I know lots of people who sort of had a vague idea about "becoming a teacher" because they didn't know what else to do with their area of interest (in this case, Bella's love of reading) but then when they took their first education classes in college they were like "yikes, nope, not for me." So this might have happened to Bella eventually.

I definitely feel like the bookstore idea is more her speed. She's actually pretty organized and practical so I think she could run a small business no problem, and she does seem to take some pleasure in keeping things running even though she shouldn't have had to do so on behalf of her parents. It would probably be more fun and rewarding for her when it's a choice. Could totally see her dabbling in writing on the side but feeling like "oh it's not any good" given her self-esteem issues, but eventually a friend (Jacob? Angela? maybe even Mike or Jess but I don't feel like she'd trust them enough to show them her writing) would encourage her to try and publish.

Now if this is all happening in a world where she did marry Edward and become a vampire, then the Cullen money would make this bookstore thing super easy, barely an inconvenience. Edward would just buy the cutest bookstore and have Bella take over, but it would feel kind of hollow, like she's just "playing bookstore" because she didn't have to try. And of course Edward would get her books published under a fake name and . . . you know, maybe that's how Twilight exists in the first place.

Libraries are also a good option! I am myself a librarian so I speak with some authority on this, haha. I think Bella would do great with some of the behind-the-scenes work like cataloging (which was my previous job) or collection development (Selecting and Buying the stuff, which is my current job) or maybe even shelving books, but she'd HATE the more customer-facing stuff like programming, circulation, reference. At my library even those of us with behind-the-scenes jobs do have some time on the service desks helping patrons, and as an introvert it's not my favorite but most library jobs start there. Almost everyone I know got their foot in the door of the library with some part time circulation desk job and then worked up to something better and I don't know if Bella makes it past that hurdle. The library is about being there for the community and meeting THEIR needs; a bookstore she could set up to her own tastes.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley Siblings Helping You Lose Weight

AN: I suffer a binge eating disorder, inflected from my mother. I also suffer with medical issues and medication that genuinely have made things so difficult. My mom refuses to help, so sometimes you just gotta be your own cheerleader. Call me crazy, but imagining George Weasley supporting me is what keeps me going sometimes. Maybe this can helps others in my shoes to. It’s scary, and isolating, but hey. I’m your cheerleader to!

Warnings: Binge eating disorder, weight loss, sensitive topic matter with food, diet culture, it’s just a trigger warning of weight topics in general

William ‘Bill’

As the eldest sibling he’s had to try and be the best influence. He’s had to try and make sure his younger siblings ate and stayed health. Third parent syndrome. So he knows that this will be a journey, but one he’s happy to help with. Given his curse breaking job he often needs to keep himself in a very healthy mental space. So he would be more than happy to drag you in with yoga, tai chi, and simple mental work outs like that. It’s simple, but easy on the joints. A important part of weight loss is doing things that are enjoyable. Makes you want to do them more. His focus on mental health is very important, and often ignored when weight loss is involved. So this important step is going to make the journey so much easier. Slower? Maybe. But slower means it’ll STAY off easier. His focus on mental health is going to be a god send

Charlie

Since he works with dragons he knows how important it is to keep healthy. He’s constantly doing Manuel labor, and eats a pretty heavy diet of protein. This also means he’s going to be a great cheerleader to help you. Knowing all kinds of great work outs to help you, and finding useful tasks for you to do at the sanctuary. Not to mention he knows how to cook, and is more than happy to show you how as well. He is also a nice reminder that you can still be healthy will looking chubby. He’s made of heavy muscle. Muscle isn’t tense twenty four seven. That squishy is deadly. It’ll make losing weight a bit scary though. You’ll be developing muscle as you lose weight, so the number on the scale won’t really move. Don’t worry. Muscle burns a lot since you need a lot of calories to keep it. You are in safe hands. You need to trust the process. It takes time. You’ll do it! Charlie knows it!

Percy

He’s not a jock. He doesn’t work out like crazy. Especially not like his siblings. But he does know how to cook. Every Weasley does. Eating healthier and cleaner is exteremly important. Most of weight loss relies on being under a calorie number. That’s, unfortunately, the harder parts to. So Percy will be more than happy to do a bunch of reading on the topic. To do his best to figure out the best meals for the day. To help trade out snacks for healthier alternatives. It’ll also give him a good excuse to try and repair the bond with his family. Practicing and learning family recipes. That’s so nice

Fred & George

They run a joke shop full of candy, sweets, and pastries. Needless to say it’s a binge eaters worst nightmare. That’s going to cause so many trials and tribulation. The smells and scents, the new recipes, it’s just hell. They want to help so much, but they are shop owners. Not like they just take it all off the shelves. It’s truly going to be a test that you will fail, many times, but they will be there to pick up the pieces. They’ll be there for every crying session you have after you finish off so much that you feel inhuman. They’ll even use this as an excuse to try and invent new sweets that can be healthier. Children deserve to eat healthier too. Some kids are victims of obesity and need help. Diet culture makes them think they are bigger than they actually are. So to have healthier sweet alternatives helps everyone. Your struggles will be what help kids feel better. They’ll be more than happy to find alternatives to help. You won’t be treated as ‘different’ for needing to diet. You won’t feel like a burden because you need to eat different. Being a kid is being happy and whimsical. And by god they will help you make eating fun again! And help you through that toxic relationship with it!

Ron

He can be the one person that understands the relationship dynamic of food. Sure he has a high metabolism, and is constantly working out, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how eating can just make everything feel better. Food can feel good, but it can also feel so damn bad. He knows that feeling. He knows that pain. He knows that horrible dance. He gets it, and knows it’s not as easy as just ‘eating less’ as everyone says. It’s not that easy. He knows. He knows you are trying your damn best, and he’s going to remind you that you have made successful steps. That because you relapse doesn’t make you any less of a person. Everyone falls down. The fact you get up again is what matters. He gets it, and will help you. You two can do it. TOGETHER

Ginny

As the youngest she’s seen her siblings trial and tribulations. As the saying goes ‘the oldest does everything the youngest shouldn’t’ and learns not to do that. She also over all has more life experience than people give her credit for. She understands that you are struggling, and is more than happy to help. Have you train with her before her quidditch seasons, and just try and make things fun. Just like her siblings ya gotta make it fun. She’s got that high energy spirit that will help you stay active. Morning runs, yoga, dancing, she has an energetic lifestyle that will help you be more active. Even if you both stay home all day. Her energy is infectious, and it’ll help motivate you to move more. She’s got your back, and has so many health programs to let you use. She’s a professional quidditch player. Everyone needs a specific diet plan for their needs. Especially since everyone works a different part. A seeker needs a different diet compared to a beater. She’s gonna help you, and her quidditch team has your back all the same. You won’t face this alone

[apeekintothepantry]

Happy Pokémon Day! February 27th is the anniversary of the first two Pokémon games’ release in Japan, and it’s a minor holiday in my house, as a fun excuse to make Pokémon inspired food, watch some Pokémon shows or movies (we’re going to watch Netflix’s new Pokémon Concierge this year!), and get excited about upcoming games and releases. This year, we’re making a Pokémon Sword and Shield inspired burger-steak curry and I’m making a dessert from the Pokémon Cookbook by Victoria Rosenthal. It’s one of my favorite fandom cookbooks – all the recipes are vegetarian or vegan, to get around the awkward question of where does the meat in the Pokémon universe come from?

But that’s not all we’re making! Ever since Nicki and Isabel were released, I’ve been dying to do a post about them and Pokémon’s infamous “Jelly Filled Doughnuts”, better – and more accurately! – known as onigiri.

Pokémon was released in the United States in 1998 via two Gameboy games: Pokémon Red and Pokémon Blue. The games quickly caught on to be one of the biggest pop culture phenomenon of the late 90’s and early 00’s, and as a kid at the heart of this explosion, I can’t overstate how much of a big deal it was. One of the great things about Pokémon – and probably why it has such lasting, widespread appeal – is that there are so many ways to interact with the franchise, and the marketing doesn’t skew hugely towards one gender or the other. Cool, tough Pokémon like Charizard got pretty similar billing to cute, pink Pokémon like Jigglypuff, and there were so many options for potential favorites that it was easy for any kid to find some creature to attach themselves to.

One of my petty complaints with Nicki and Isabel’s collection and books is the almost complete lack of mention of Pokémon and other anime that was really popular among kids in 1999. I know AG probably didn’t want to shell out for licensing deals with Nintendo or The Pokémon Company, but their stories just don’t feel accurate without discussing their prized binder of Pokémon cards or begging their parents to take them to see the Pokémon movie in theaters. Maybe the authors were just a little too old to get caught up in Pokémania?

I’ve also always thought its close overlap with the Beanie Babies crazy helped get millennial children like me very into the “gotta catch ‘em all” aspect of the franchise. Is this why I’m such a crazy toy collector as an adult? Who knows.

The Pokémon anime was one of the main ways kids like me got hooked on the franchise, because not everyone was allowed to have a Gameboy of their own (me), and not everyone liked video games, but even if you didn’t like video games, the cartoon might appeal to you. Although it was far from the first Japanese cartoon to air on US television, Pokémon was one of if not the first truly mainstream favorites of the 1990’s. 4Kids, the company in charge of dubbing the show into English, decided that American kids wouldn’t understand or be open to certain aspects of the show that reflected its Japanese roots, and so made a lot of strange choices in rewriting the script. One of the most notorious was deciding Brock’s rice balls were actually jelly filled doughnuts:

Onigiri – also known as omusubi or nigirimeshi – are balls of rice with a variety of fillings inside. They’re often compared to sandwiches, as an easy, quick, cheap meal or snack that combines carbs and other ingredients. While the concept of taking a rice ball and stuffing it full of other tasty treats goes way back to ancient Japan, the triangle shape became popular in the 1980’s thanks to a new machine that automated the filling process. Further developments over the last 40 years have created unique ways to prepackage onigiri without making the nori wrapping sticky. The ones we made were an attempt at recreating the “Hawaiian” (spam and pineapple) rice balls from our favorite food hall back in DC. One of my favorite pandemic indulgences was getting take out from the food hall, which often included a sampler of some of my favorite onigiri, and I haven’t been able to find anything close to similar where we are now. One of the many reasons I’m excited to move!

Even as a kid, I wasn’t convinced the food in the anime was fried dough with fruit jelly inside, because they sure look like rice. I also think 4Kids didn’t anticipate that Pokémon’s widespread popularity would inspire many of its fans – including me – to become absolutely obsessed with Japanese food and culture. I would’ve been more excited if they’d just been straight with me and shown more Japanese food on the show, and then probably begged my parents to make it or take me to a restaurant that made it. While I can’t confidently cite numbers of how many other people were first exposed to Japanese culture and food through Pokémon and franchises like it, I do think it’s a bit of a missed opportunity to highlight how things like this exposed kids like Nicki and Isabel to parts of a culture outside their own!

[sincerely-sofie]

I think you mentioned a while ago that you were creating plans around the Loyal three, Ogerppn and Pecharunt. You have anything you want to share about them?

Some notes I’ve made on these jokers:

Pecharunt gave the elderly mortals who raised him a plateful of mochi he made by himself as a gift for a holiday celebrating parents in the area, using a recipe his adopted parents made for him countless times. However, his abilities draw out the greed in those who eat any food he prepares, and the mortals became selfish parodies of their former selves.

Pecharunt’s parents required him to collect gifts for them, and would make snide remarks implying that they loved him less when he failed to give them the things they requested. When they made a big deal out of wanting the masks in a distant village, Pecharunt left on a long journey alone in order to collect them and ensure his parents loved him for a few days after he gave them the gifts and before they asked for something else.

(The effects of Pecharunt's mochi wear off after a significant time spent without continually eating it, depending on how much was consumed in the past. Pecharunt's parents slowly shrugged off the greedy trance they were in. It felt like coming awake from a dream you could barely remember— they found their house stuffed full of expensive items and their son missing. When the memories of what occured during their trances returned to them, they panicked. They sold all of the gifts they had Pecharunt get them and used the money to hire people to search for their child and bring him home. They weren't successful.)

(They die from age and grief before Pecharunt comes home. The person who later moves into their house lets Pecharunt explore his childhood home when he finally returns to face his parents, scared of what they might say, to allow him some closure.)

On his journey, Pecharunt encountered the Loyal Three one by one (Okidogi first, followed by Munkidori, then Fenzandipiti) and transformed them in exchange for their help in securing gifts for his parents. Upon making the pact, the Loyal Three were wrapped in purple chains that bound them to Pecharunt's demands and cannot be removed until their pact is fulfilled.

(Pacts are a thing Legends are able to do, along with curses.)

Pecharunt sent the Loyal Three in to Ogerpon’s home to steal the four masks his parents wanted, but they were interrupted by Ogerpon’s own mortal parent returning and defending his home. The Loyal Three managed to steal three masks after the mortal was severely injured, and made a hasty escape without the final mask of the set secured.

Ogerpon came home to find her den in a state of disarray and couldn't find her father anywhere. Worried, she donned the Teal Mask and rushed down to the nearby village to ask if anyone knew what happened to him, and discovered Pecharunt and the Loyal Three bragging to the villagers about the scuffle they had with one of those freaks outside town along with their ill-gotten gains. Ogerpon flew into a flew into a rage after learning of her father’s death and killed the Loyal Three, wounded Pecharunt to such an extent that if she were mortal she'd be coming home with new powers, and returned to her den to mourn. Pecharunt had to hibernate to recover from the attack.

Ogerpon was eventually driven out of her home by the villagers, who had already feared her and her father but developed a hatred after the confrontation in their town square that killed the Loyal Three. She wanders the world while wearing the mask she carries to honor her father’s memory, as it belonged to him before his passing.

The Loyal Three were brought back as Legends by people's beliefs in their nobility and kindness.

Pecharunt's name is Momo.

Ogerpon’s name is Ponpon.

They eventually reconcile and bond over the grief of their late parents.

[aphicelend]

Misaki Shirayama

26 y.o | 1.52 cm | Japanese | April 4th | Aries

(APH) Human | City Ver. | Colorful AU | BOX AU

Tags: #Art/HC tag | #Posts related to her

Wanted to do a profile for her here 💦 Misaki has been one of my fave oc's since 2012 and i'm having fun drawing her a lot again, and I love to put her in my other oc's stories 💃 so here's info of her hetalia AU(?

i wrote everything in spanish and im lazy to translate it properly so, google translator yay

| Personality

Introverted | Temperamental | Stubborn | Agressive | Kind | Caring

Misaki is a young woman with a fiery personality, she has little patience for stupidity. She is a hard worker, and likes to put effort into what she likes. She is also stubborn when it comes to opinions if it is not her way she will not do it, she tends to violence when someone bothers her. Her pride is something precious to her.

Despite this, when she gets upset she needs her time to calm down and then apologize. Even so, Misaki is a girl who cares about others, her way of showing her appreciation is through actions, especially cooking.

Socially inept, having lived surrounded by “nations” Misaki behaves awkwardly with other humans, for some reason she always feels distant and finds it difficult to understand them.

Having grown up with nations, Misaki did not develop “parental affection” or someone to consult her problems with, because she considered that Japan would not fully understand her.

He usually feels a constant feeling of loneliness, his heart is a hard shell that makes it difficult for him to let in emotions like love.

| BACKGROUND (Hetalia AU)

Strip about her background

In this AU, Misaki was raised by Japan who took care over her as she was abandonated. Her childhood was kinda chaotic, surrounded by nations of course she didn't grow like other kids, she felt distanced.

Japan tried his best to give her a normal life, of course he wasn't used to raise a kid. Misaki always wondered why did he took her? He felt lonely? She would never know.

She always had a sense of loneliness, a feeling of she doesn't belong where she is. Mother? Father? What's that, she only had "weird uncles"

Misaki was very problematic at school, her classmates teased her a lot and she answered back with violence.

Through her adolescence, she kinda developed a crush on Yao, and she was rejected, of course, the man only saw her as a little sister.

More about it here.

Time heals, she tried to moved on. On Uni, she meet a guy named Kazuo, they clicked and became a couple, Misaki thought that finally had someone who cared for her deeply, but no. The guy cheated on her. That was the point that made her close herself.

-> She lives alone in an old traditional house that Japan left for her, she works as botanic in a national park in Kyoto.

| Interests and facts

She LOVES gardering and plants. She has a traditional garden on her house and it's her first priority.

She's very good at cooking, Japan and China taught her very well.

Also Romano as shared with her some italian recipes so she could "learn something good"

Her way to show love is giving you food.

Her dream is to open her own restaurant.

One of her interests are kimonos, she likes to make her own

Favorite station is autumn, she loves when trees go orange.

Loves cats, and bunnies, loves cute things.

She likes minimalist clothing, plain clothes or stripped patterns

Her face may look annoyed but she's kind, and gets along better with girls.

She has been mistaken for a minor

Does she feel something for Alfred?? who knows.

She's just afraid to someone break into her heart and get too attatched.

| RELATIONSHIPS

I made this chart

| Music

Mostly vocaloid because i'm a weeb

Balsam / Misaki - About her loneliness

The Beast / Misaki - Her fear to open her heart

I'm glad you're evil too / Misaki - Her wish to find someone

Girl Pilot / MisAme - Their dynamic, Alfred trying to reach her but he can't

I can't stop the loneliness / Misaki - the song says it all lol, maybe her fear that its too late?

Hammer Song And The Tower Of Pain / Misaki - Pushing everyone away it's the best

MAD HEAD LOVE / MisAme - Their dynamic, they're idiots.

----

If you got this far here's some old misaki drawings, old hetalia? ocs? she used to have friends and now she's DEPRESSED.

2012 | 2014

[wordtotherose]

Braiding her hair becomes a habit. 

Astarion judges his own handiwork harshly, never satisfied and it can take well over twice as much time as it would have done had she just done it herself as he takes it apart over and over, combing his fingers through the strands to begin again. He openly laments when she gets blood stuck in it after a battle because he cannot sit and watch her struggle to do it on her own now he has permission and a strange…want to do it. It's odd to want to do something for someone else just because he enjoys it for himself. Others have never brought him so much as an ounce of joy before. Doing things to them has, in his long experience, inspired the opposite in fact. Yet he desires nothing in return and he stumbles over the odd possessive streak he's developing over his chosen duty. He is the one to keep her hair out of her eyes, to keep her locks looking presentable out and about. It's all the stranger that she lets him, encourages him. 

Realistically, she encourages him to a point. When he'd stopped her mid-battle to inspect her singed fringe in Sorcerous Sundries he had been sure he'd be getting a long, loud lecture before they got home. 

And he did. Just when they got back to the Elfsong instead of on the way. Always full of surprises, she is.

Tonight he lounges near the fire, doing his best to ignore the prattling child next to him telling him about her next recipe she wants to try. The same three sentences have been read repeatedly now and he still cannot remember them enough to move past them. How in the hells they'd acquired a child in their camp he does not know. He hadn't been with Elizia when the two had met, having been left to help set up camp in the abandoned barn and stables that they had found overlooking Rivington. She'd come back, child and cat in tow, and she had made it very clear that they were all to behave around the kid who would be staying with them for a while. There had been something about a lost parent and Astarion hadn't put up more than a cursory argument against it, snarking about starting a traveling orphanage.

Continue Reading on AO3 or under the cut!

Elizia's roll of the eyes had been long-suffering for all that it was fond. It had made him smile more than anything all day. Fond of him of all people. A charmed life he'd been abducted into. 

The bathroom door clicks softly shut behind Elizia as she emerges from her late night bath. He lets the book close as he tips his head back, straining his neck a little to catch sight of her. She always comes out of a wash flushed from the heat, freckled skin awash with pink. The draping of her white dress exposes swathes of skin that he can practically feel under his hands just from looking; he's never known a body besides his own so well as hers. The gold coiling belt is fastened around her waist to cinch the fabric but she's left the armbands off. It won't be long before she changes into the spare shirt of his she stole quite literally off of his body after the House of Hope to go to sleep. 

The kid is still waffling on so he sends Elizia a pleading look when her search finds him in the room, always the first she seeks out. It's like she orients her world around him. Everything comes secondary or further to him. The centre of gravity for her. It's a lot of responsibility, he thinks, but he's working to be there for her to find like this. She hasn't asked him to, he doesn't really think she knows she does it, but he has scarce little to give her whilst it feels like she's giving him everything she can get those kleptomaniac hands on. She's given him his own self back. His body. His freedom. Well. He did a lot of the work himself, he's not selfless enough to give her all the credit. Not really selfless at all. And she seeks him out anyway. 

Her top braided buns are done already and her comb is being ran through the lower half of her hair as she pads barefoot over to the railing above Astarion. "Isn't it past your bedtime, Yenna?" 

The kid pouts but bids them goodnight without argument, her little bodyguard of a cat winding its way through her legs as she goes. He's almost impressed that she doesn't trip or kick it, clearly practiced. 

Elizia folds in half over the railing to press an upside down kiss hello to his lips, leaving him smiling. She tucks her combed hair over her shoulder and vaults over to join him on the sofa. He holds a hand out and the comb is dropped into his grasp before she slips with grace to the floor, crossing her legs neatly. He shuffles to the side so she's sitting inbetween his legs.

"Night braids?" He asks, already splitting her hair into even halves. 

"Day braids. Do you still have the clasps?"

He does, they're in his trouser pocket where she'd deposited them before going to bathe.

"Of course I do, darling."

He gets to work quietly, untangling the knots she missed and layering strand over strand over strand until he has two identical braids. The clasps are her only childhood possession and he is washed over by the trust she shows in letting him handle and look after them every time they do this. 

"Hungry?" She asks when he's done, spinning herself around to look up at him. 

He traces a finger over her brow, down to brush the soft skin under her eye, the ragged scar that crosses her left cheek and onto her nose. She doesn't smile but there's an ease and peace in her posture, in her eyes. 

"A little, not enough," he answers, following the curve of her jaw before pulling away.

"Wake me up if you want to before we start the day tomorrow," she offers. 

"As you wish."

"Can I kiss you?" She asks, blunt and without pressure for him to answer any particular way. 

"I'd like nothing more, my love."

She unwinds from the floor, climbing into his lap with ease and familiarity, knees bracketing his hips. He smooths his hands over her sides, fingers catching on the belt. He'd be willing to swear that this is at least in part what draws her to wearing the dress so often; the ease of movement it allows her as it falls open up to the belt making for an easier time clambering over him or, as before, over furniture. 

It's he who has to tip his head up like this to draw her in. His strong protector, looming over him. He likes it more than he should. 

[espresso-ships]

OC introduction

Sergio Bernardi

CW: Mention of dr*gs

Nicknames: Gio

Age: 31

Pronouns: He/him

Height: 193 cm/6’4

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Orientation: Questioning

Occupation: Chef, restaurant owner

Sergio is the older brother of Laura, four years older than her. When he was a kid, he and Laura moved from Italy to the US together with their father Benjamin. They lived with Benjamin's parents, so Sergio and Laura naturally got close to their grandparents. 

At a young age, Sergio had tendencies to get in trouble, a talent his sister also got later on. 

He’d often get into fights at school and it was difficult getting friends. 

Apart from trouble, Sergio had an interest in music and cooking food.

In high school, Sergio met Ignacio Varga and Domingo Molina. They were in the same class and they all bonded really well.

The trio often smoked together, skipped classes and went to town instead. At nights, they snuck out to parties. 

Around the time Nacho and Domingo met Tuco, Sergio too joined the illegal operation. He saw it as a “quick way” to earn money, and became a drug-dealer. He did so for about a year, until he realized the dangers he put himself and his family in. After a lot of struggle, he successfully left the business. He continued to hang out with Domingo and Nacho, but the friendship had changed after a lot of arguments. All of them had grown into different persons and things felt different. Sergios' friends kept working for Tuco, and eventually he cut contact with the both of them, not wanting anything to do with the Tuco nor the cartel anymore. 

He had also, without realizing so, developed feelings for Domingo. But he never acted on his feelings, and instead distanced himself from both Nacho and Domingo.

He developed his interest in cooking food and developed a talent. He started taking his passion seriously and started studying at university, where he learnt about the restaurant business. 

Later on in life, Sergio opened his own restaurant, named “BenGio” - a combination of his name and his dad - the man that taught him some of the recipes for food that is served at BenGio. It is located in Denver, where he moved in his early adult years. 

Sergio is very close to his sister Laura, and they’re very supportive of each other. 

He is a workaholic and social butterfly. Apart from cooking, he likes attending parties and meeting new people. He’s very confident and energetic - and very good at hiding his insecurities and the loneliness he tends to feel. 

He’s a hopeless romantic in search of finding “the right one”.

Sergio appearance

Picrew template by @elena-illustration

Young Laura and Sergio!

Used this Picrew for the image

Been having this idea in my head for quite a while! 😅

A bit different from what I usually post but hope you guys find it interesting! :3

I have too many OC's and UGH I need to talk about them more LOL-

Also...

What do we say about Sergio and Domingo? 👀

[lilabella12]

1321 - Day 2

It takes some time getting used to, but Ian and Daniel develop a good routine at their new home. Daniel managed to learn a few basic recipes for breakfast.

Daniel: "I have to go to the market today, I wanted to sell some of the produce from winter harvest and some flour I made... do you think you will be okay on your own or do you want to come as well?"

Ian: "I think I'll stay here. I wanted to explore a bit... do you remember where that tree was that you and Evie talked about?"

Daniel: "The one we used to climb on? Of course, it's right by the fields."

Ian: "I will stay, then."

Daniel: "Okay. If I make enough money today, maybe we could buy some chickens next."

Ian: "I would like that... I always took care of them at unlce Evan's."

Daniel leaves first thing in the morning and after Ian takes care of some chores in the fields, he is free to explore. He finds that tree his siblings used to climb all the time and even their old stone doll-house...

Daniel arrives early at the market, not many people are around but he manages to sell some of his stock. Not yet enough for a chicken coop and some animals, but he's getting there slowly but surely.

When midday breaks, he spots Annabeth in the crowd.

Daniel: "Annabeth! It's so good to see you, how have you been? I haven't seen you in ages... at least that's what it feels like."

Annabeth: "Yes, I'm sorry... I can't get out of the house as much as I used to. How have you been? Did your siblings move in now?"

Daniel: "Well, that's... let's sit down and I'll tell you about it. I'm almost done here anyway."

They sit down at a secluded spot behind the shops.

Daniel: "Hey, do you remember? We met here for the first time. When my father was selling his wares and me and my sister..."

Annabeth: "Yes, I remember. You and Eve were playing in the trees and I just moved here."

Daniel: "Yes, Evie... I have to tell you... she passed away. A few weeks ago."

Annabeth: "Oh no! Daniel, I'm so sorry to hear that. What happened to her?"

Daniel: "The phsyicians say it was tuberculosis. She had a very bad cough and she just... didn't wake up one morning. At least that's what my uncle told me. Ian found her that morning and came to get me as soon as possible but it was too late. We buried her next to my parents."

Annabeth: "That must have been so hard for Ian...."

Daniel: "He doesn't speak much about it but I think you're right. I know it's been hard on me. He lives with me now... he wanted to. I think he fears of losing me as well. The two of us are the only ones left."

Annabeth: "Then it's a good thing you took him in. He needs you now and perhaps you need him as well."

Daniel: "Do you want to come with me and meet him? I think he would be happy to have some company other than me. It gets quite lonely out there."

Annabeth: "Well... I don't think I can. There's a suitor I have to meet this afternoon, my father has been... pushing me."

She chuckles a bit.

Annabeth: "He thinks I'm getting too old to be living with my parents."

Daniel: "Oh.... I... that's.... you don't have to come."

His stomach does a funny flip. He felt that way the last time she sopke about it as well.

Annabeth: "You know... I don't think it's that important. Let's go. I can't wait to meet Ian.

Daniel is right - Ian is happy to meet Annabeth and the two spend the afternoon by the stables to talk a bit.

Before she leaves for home, Annabeth tries to reassure Daniel.

Annabeth: "You're doing a good job with Ian, really. He's happy here with you even if he can't show it that well right now. I think he still needs to mourn a bit before he can move on."

Daniel: "Thank you, Annabeth. I would love for you to visit again. I missed you these past few weeks."

Annabeth: "I will if I can. But.... I don't know if my father will approve."

Daniel: "I don't want to get you in trouble of course. Travel home safe, okay?"

When he watches her leave he thinks about marriage for the first time in his life. Should he introcuce himself as a possible suitor to her father? Is it a good idea to do this at his current stage... and his living conditions? Would she even want to?

Evan and his family also have to get used to living without Daniel and Ian now. The twins miss their cousins, but at least they still have each other.

But it won't be long until the family grows again... Valeria is expecting a child! Evan and the children are excited to meet the new family member... Valeria meanwhile hopes that she will carry this baby to term and everything will be fine. She does not want to repeat her last pregnancy.

| previous | next |

[vgbndangel]

Mild trauma trigger warnings with depression + probably more about me than you ever wanted to know.

I promise this might be the only super serious post I make. Maybe.

But I see a lot of stuff around and figured I wanted to write something on a more serious note, imagining that it might maybe slightly help even one person.

I'm not here to judge or shame anyone--quite the opposite really. Life is hard. We all cope in different ways. (And often develop traits or even kinks from our experiences--me included I have a lot of darker kinks even, and that's okay 💕)

I might not even post this tbh since some of it I've never told anyone but I'll keep things a bit vague.

*** Actual stuff 👇 ***

From a young age, I was cripplingly, embarrassingly shy.

Like can't talk on the phone, play with people on the playground, make friends shy.

I'm not really sure *why* but I just felt "different" and found it impossible to really connect with anyone.

This led to me being in my own head a lot and over analyzing everything.

As you might imagine I had no friends growing up. (Shocking I'm sure)

None. Zip. Zero. Nada.

My parents didn't understand me, my brother didn't understand me. I just felt completely alone.

Naturally, I read a lot.

Mostly fantasy books about other worlds, magic, adventures, friends, and romance.

Every novel I could find at the library. (I was also obsessed with Harry Potter fan fiction oops, don't @ me, no one irl knows this and that's how it's gonna stay)

I started to wonder a lot about "the meaning of life" and really didn't understand what the point was--everyone around me always seemed so much happier.

I desperately wanted to leave and go to any of these worlds that I read about. I thought if I died would I be reborn in a better, happier world. That's how I became suicidal at 14 - no external trauma, just a self-fulfilling prophecy of depression and loneliness.

I never tried to act on these thoughts or tell anyone. I would just spiral downwards whenever I was alone.

Now fast forwarding a few years, I went off to boarding school--for academic reasons not behavioral ones.

You'd think putting a lonely, depressed kid to live on his own would be a recipe for disaster. (Also my parents had no idea I was depressed since I never talked to anyone)

But actually it wasn't! The school had a lot of structure for forcing people to interact even for someone like me.

I made a few friends and started to see some happiness in life.

Around this time I started dating someone for the first time (all of my knowledge of relationships came from books and fanfictions mind you).

As you might expect, this person became my entire world.

There was a lot of drama of course--we were teenagers in boarding school what do you expect? We broke up, got back together, had a lot of sex in risky places, and made very many unreasonable promises.

We dated for two years before graduating.

We went to different universities far away and talked about making it work long distance.

A week after she moved away, she broke up with me by phone with no real warning.

I was devastated and was actively suicidal for the first time.

Three years went by - we talked on the phone every month or so (she would talk to me whenever she was lonely as a last resort and I would eat up the attention).

If you take anything away from my post (if anyone made it this far)--don't ever do this to yourself. Block them until you've gotten over the relationship!!! You deserve to be somebody's first choice.

I started to feel happy for the first time getting away from school during an internship. I didn't know anyone and I started learning how to be happy by myself and with myself. For the first time, I found myself living in the moment rather than imagining a better moment.

Second major takeaway I want to impress upon you dear reader--focus on baby steps to feel better rather than "visualizing yourself at the finish line". For basically my whole life, I had wanted to get better and not getting to this imagined "happy" led to constant downward spirals.

I have had a lot of ups and downs since then. But measuring my progress instead of focusing on how far away an imagined, moving finish line is has helped me immensely.

A lot of time, people treat happiness as a very concrete thing. You're either happy or you aren't. The things we read and experience create "checklists" of happiness for us. And mostly it just feels so far away -- there's always something "missing" or not perfect which sours everything.

I'm not perfect now--even today as a highly functioning adult I have (many) days where I want to just stay in bed. I have insecurities and oddities. And that's okay.

Life (and relationships) is about learning and growth. Trying to be a better person and finding small happinesses in small steps.

Finally, if you're struggling with depression or trauma try talking to someone you can trust--a therapist, partner, close friends, a help hotline, anyone. My biggest regret is silently struggling because it could have ended up with the worst ending.

You matter and have value 💕

[Sorry if this came off as kinda soap boxy. I know I'm writing from a position of immense privilege. I could also probably cut out some of the personal background, but I didn't want to. ily for reading this whole thing.]

[ghostboneswrites2]

would you write caryl with an oc perhaps a 20 year old girl they’d taken in since before henry died. maybe she struggles with her relationship with carol because of henry until smth happens to her too

Had trouble writing a full story for this one, but I didn’t wanna leave you hanging so I hope this suffices!

Warnings: TWD stuff, grief, mild angst

You spent most of your life on the run. You had a family when you were young, but the rotten world around you had slowly picked them off, one by one, until you were left on your own.

You were only about eleven when your brother, your last remaining family member, died from an infection of all things.

Spending six years alone was no easy feat. You had to learn to survive, sometimes filling your belly with leaves and worms just to get by.

Being on your own for so long, without peer interaction or any kind of friendly social contact, somewhat stunted your development. You didn’t have a lot of social skills, if any, and your mannerisms and behaviors hadn’t changed much since you were eleven.

Carol found you one day in the woods, asleep by a stream in the dead of winter. You were frostbitten and malnourished, and you had a horrible fever.

Despite the cards you had been dealt, you were still a smart person. You’d kept track of the seasons as they passed, and you remembered your birthday was in the summer sometime. So, when it became swelteringly hot outside, you’d count another year past.

Daryl was reasonably cautious upon your arrival. Carol had thrown you in her horse and walked you home with her the day she found you. It took her twice as long to return home since she had to walk.

Carol told him they could send you on your way if need be, but something about the sight of you freezing on the forest floor made it impossible for her to just turn away and leave you there. She reasoned it was her motherly instincts. A mother can never really lose those, she reminded him.

They were both shocked when you woke and you told them you were fifteen. Years of poor diet kept you small. You looked much younger.

Days passed with you under their roof, stealing their hearts as Carol cooked you warm meals and Daryl taught you how to help him clean a kill.

After some months, you had formed quite the bond with the two. Carol taught you some recipes, Daryl took you hunting.

You never really knew if they were together, but sometimes you’d catch a lingering gaze or a soft touch that felt too intentional to be nothing.

When Carol started to form a relationship with Henry, after his brother died, you also became friendly with the boy. The two of you would often fight with sticks as if they were swords and play hide and seek around the Kingdom when you visited.

Carol and Daryl resided with you in a home not far from the Kingdom, so you visited often. Plus, you had a tendency to pester them about going to visit Henry. Even if he was younger, you enjoyed him.

After the war with the Saviors, Henry chose to come live with Carol, which meant you and Daryl as well. He wanted to live somewhere he wasn’t constantly reminded of his brother, or his parents whom you never met.

As you and Henry grew, Carol seemed to take him in as a son, which you were happy for. Your relationship with Daryl had always been closer than it was with Carol, so it was almost perfect.

When Henry died, you all felt it. Carol withdrew, hell-bent in revenge, while Daryl felt a sense of responsibility and grief himself. You had lost your closest friend, someone like a brother. You were used to losing people, but it still hurt. You still suffered.

Somehow, Carol’s grief manifested into a coldness toward you. You accepted it, but it hurt you.

One night, you had an idea to honor Henry. You snuck out when Daryl and Carol had retired for the night. You followed the roads over to an old convenience store, where you and Henry had hoarded random things for years. Toys, books, weird knickknacks, cool rocks. If you found it, and liked it, it ended up there.

You loaded a bunch of Henry’s favorite finds into a bag to bring home. You wanted to make a sort of emo rial for him, like a shrine. You thought Carol might like to see some of the things Henry enjoyed in his lifetime.

On the way home, you got cornered by a small herd. You had to fall back into a random shop, where you barricaded yourself and survived for two days.

Daryl grew sick with worry the morning he discovered you gone. Carol did too, but she figured you had run away or something stupid. “Kids do stupid things, Daryl.”

Still, he couldn’t rest until he knew you were safe. He and Carol set out to find you.

On your second day, they found you, and surprisingly the first one to embrace you was Carol. You melted into her arms. You hadn’t felt a maternal comfort such as a warm hug in ages.

She scolded you about being stupid, but all you could do was smile at her worry. She did care for you.

You showed her all the stuff you’d taken for Henry’s memorial. She teared up at the sight, and the three of you built a shrine for Henry at home that night.

[subiysu-chan]

It must be a different kind of pain when your heart belongs to a person who doesn't know how to love. I'm talking about Jean Baptiste and Marie Josephe. You can't get through them, because they don't want to let you in. They're emotionally unavailable.

And I suppose having sex with them won't lessen the heaviness in your heart— you know that in their eyes, they don't see the act as intimately as you do.

They're repulsed at the idea of someone having romantic affection for them at all. If you express any admiration or adoration to these people, I'm certain they'll immediately jump into a manner that's both disgusted and defensive, 'Who are you to assume you truly know me?' kind of way. Oops, now they're immediately distancing themselves away from you. Way to go!

Okay, like daughter like father, they're both awful. Whatever, they still got some aspects to love about. The majority of the Sansons are capable of love, so why is Jean Baptiste and Marie Josephe like this? How do you get them to lower their guard and seep your way into their heart? What do you think they truly desire from someone in order to reciprocate the person's feelings?

I think Jean-Baptiste and Marie-Josèphe, while both emotionally unavailable, are so in very different ways.

Jean-Baptiste clearly loves his mother, at the exclusion of everybody else. However, to have only one object of affection for your entire life cannot be healthy. Also, there is no way this man ever could develop a sense of identity outside of being an executioner. Most modern torturers and professional killers have a "normal self persona, the default personality that developped in early childhood" and a "ruthless killer personality". With Jean-Baptiste, ruthless executioner and torturer is the default personality, with honestly very little outside of it.

He is able to love his children, but would only show this affection very conditionally as a reward for behaving how he wants, or when they are unconscious, when it's more of a genuine affection.

Now, that man, as a boy between 7 and 19, had rivals lining up for his position. Rivals that were fully grown men, mind you. He was in a semi-incestuous relationship with his mother, and at some point, with Madeleine Tronson, the daughter of his "father figure", a somewhat mentally incestuous union that resulted in a death, and two offspring, of which Charles-Henri is the second. To add insult to injury, his younger brother envied the semi-incestuous, and at the very least mentally abusive attention, Jean-Baptiste received from his mother. Anne-Marthe is plenty physically abusive herself, and they were at a time of "spare the rod, spoil the child", in which physical discipline was a mark that a parent cared for their child. And Nicolas-Gabriel was jaleous of that abusive attention. Her, let's say selective aftercare probably worsened the relations between the two brothers, but I think Gabriel dodged a bullet, here. Oh, and he did have a big sister who ran away with her lover when he was 13 years old. Add to that being forced to kill people, and you have a recipe for mental disaster.

Marie-Josèphe...She does express, narratively to herself, sadness when she believes Charles rejects her. At one point, she asks him if he finds her disgusting for being able to kill without a second thought. To a normal person, it doesn't probably mean much. But for someone who's been raised a pariah, caring what someone else thinks of you must be very intimate, implying a certain degree of trust. She is enraged and griefstricken when Alain is killed in front of her.

With Marie-Josèphe, her ability to love is hidden between layers of honestly betrayal. At the ripe age of two, she witnessed her brother being tortured. She then mimicked that behavior on her doll. I honestly don't want to think what it would do, mentally to a child that young, to see a sibbling being tortured. She was tortured herself by her own grandmother at age 5. Said brother, much later, completely changed his personality overnight, in a sense. When she was tortured, her own mother didn't lift a single finger to help her. Her father...Well, Jean-Baptiste is Jean-Baptiste, and he's not an affectionate parent. Alain left her, and was shortly killed after their reunion. Plus, she was raped at age 10...So, again, the fact she has any ability for affection after being betrayed so many times is surprising.

Honestly, both would need years of therapy, and I don't think their mental state is even salvageable at any point. Marie-Josèphe was actively wanting to kill people since age 4, and was honestly, never taught proper morals by anyone. She is a very underwritten character...So we can only speculate. I think her real chance of finding romantic love would be someone to tell her how absolutely f-cked up her family is. Now, in terms of personalities she is drawn to, they are extremely kind people who seek to make the world a better place, perhaps gravitating towards a goodness, a sense of justice she lacks in herself.

For Jean-Baptiste, he probably knows he's not normal, but probably on a purely cognitive level. The "respectable" individuals on his economic strata, that he knows personally, are absolute monsters, and I think even he knows they are bad people, and probably doesn't want to be associated with them. They also look down on him. Why would anyone want to compare themselves to sadistic creep who looks down on them ? He knows his mother wants to for some reason, but his mother is a woman who sees anyone of her own sex as a rival.

For mutual, healthy relationships, it's probably only friendships with other men. His probably exclusively heterosexual, in an emotionally incestuous relationship with his mother. For him, sexual attraction and familial love go together. Also, it's likely for him, showing he has basic humanity is more intimate than having sex. He really never had a place to express that, outside of religious self-harm. He probably fears, especially after his stroke, that showing humanity would probably cost him: the love of his mother, the authority he has over his wife and kids. His way of showing love is to "be strong" for someone. Like, when he acted like typical angry dad when Marie-Josèphe sadistically massacred Griffin in front on him. Anne-Marthe is the type of person who, I think deep down doesn't want neither children nor a husband, but brainwashed killing machines working for her benefit, just having sons and grandsons is the easiest way to get that. I think someone, who would genuinely show him that they would not think anyless of him because of his heart would drastically transform him. It won't happen over night, and it won't "fix" him, but it will allow a door to be open in his mind.

[perennialwitness]

The Real OG(an excerpt)

Please say the following aloud:

When you’re here, 

You’re family. 

If your mind made the connection to Olive Garden just now then we probably come from a similar background. Semi-suburban– too far to take public transit into the city, close enough to drive. Forty-five minutes, with no traffic. And we all know there’s no such thing as ‘no traffic’, only varying levels of density. The freeways more like rivers than roads, their red halogen flood line rising and falling with the moon and the weather. Kept fed by a sprawl of Commuter Towns, their  farthest edges in constant creeping development.

I grew up in one of these places, vast stretches of single-family homes connected by high-speed stroads. A town with clearly delineated lines between the Blacks and the Whites, everyone else fell somewhere in between. Then there were Subsections within that for the rich(meaning they more than likely owned their home) and the poor(straight down past section 8 and into the dusty outskirts). Streets would change suddenly from one to the next. The asphalt under your feet rapidly degrading as you made your way toward the Blacker, Poorer side of town. It mattered that you knew this. It was a way to communicate things oftentimes hard to say aloud. For instance, I lived on the poor Black side and went to school on the poor White side. Anyway,

Growing up, family events that warranted a drive to the city were rare. If it was your birthday, graduation, funeral, divorce– didn’t matter, there were only a handful of places to celebrate, all of them inhabiting the same mile long shopping plaza. There was; Applebees, famous for their happy hour specials. Chevy’s, Tex-mex where they make the tortillas out in the middle of the restaurant, which had the appearance of a beach cabana. Sizzler or Red Lobster if you were feeling extra spendy(dim lights, lots of wood grain, for date nights and so forth). And then there was the Olive Garden, which was reserved for nights when you really wanted to fill up. 

“Ain’t no bigger bang for your buck than Olive Garden on a coupon,” My step-dad would say then he’d rap his overstuffed wallet against the table and let out the hoarse rattle that was his laugh. He was right, if you were smart about it you could make one dinner last three days easy. 

Truth be told the food is barely food, classic recipes trimmed down to the bare necessities as a way of cutting costs and increasing turnover. Heapings upon heapings of pasta swimming in sauces brewed by the vat. Bread sticks, soggy with butter and oil, coming out in the dozens from the kitchen like clockwork. Servers in a mad dash to ensure every table’s basket full, lest they screech about meal comps, how they were advertised endless breadsticks and how they would sue if they weren’t offered compensation.

Bigger bang, bigger buck. 

To their credit the owners of the Olive Garden had tried to keep the place classy. The walls were painted to look like the cracked plaster of a Mediterranean villa, there were “stone” columns wrapped with vine decorations, arranged by someone unconcerned with structural support. Italian-sounding string accompaniments droned over the PA to complete the immersion. It was, all things considered, a nice place to bring the kids. And my parents, swept up in the fantasy, would drink wine there, instead of their usual Whiskeys and Vodka Sodas. They’d pretend they were in love, and we-- the kids I mean-- we tried our best to behave like “family”.

In my adulthood I avoided these places. Not because I cared about the quality, I don’t have qualms with cheap bad food. My aversion was psychological. These chains represented a place and a lifestyle that I couldn’t return to. The make-believe of it all. The gamified domesticity. It isn’t simple to correct your vision, removing the blinders is painful, seeing the truth of things deteriorates the sense of self. There’s just too much comfort in familiarity. So easy to lull oneself back to sleep amongst the herd, so more than anything else what I feared was regression.

[foundtherightwords]

The Quiet Chaos - Chapter 6

Pairing: Billy Knight (Lethal White/Strike) x OFC

Summary: After a bad breakup throws her carefully-planned life into disarray, Esme has sworn off dating forever. However, when she forms an unexpected connection with a young man named Billy, who's dealing with his own struggles, Esme is forced to face the truth: sometimes you can't plan for love.  

Warnings: mental health issues, angst, slow-burn, developing relationship, dysfunctional family, some violence (non-graphic), some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter warnings: discussion of parental neglect/parentification

Chapter word count: 4.1k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Chapter 6 - Christmas

As Esme had predicted, her parents didn't care about Billy's condition at all. But then again, she had never worried about that. If anything, her worries were the opposite—that her parents would be too nice to Billy and smother him with their affection. On Christmas Eve, she called them again to run through a list of do's and don'ts that she'd compiled.

"Please don't whisper around him, that'll make him paranoid. And don't shout either. I know you can get very loud when you're excited, Dad. Oh, you do. Please just remember to tone it down a bit. And please, please, Mum, don't ask him a million questions, and if he doesn't want to say something, please don't make up an answer for him. Don't make up stories about him or put him into one of your books."

Mum took offense at that. "Darling, when I do put someone into my book, I only use them as inspiration, you know that!" she said. "They never recognize themselves."

Yeah, like I didn't recognize myself, thought Esme bitterly, but she only said, "I'd know, alright? He's had a very tough life, he's not a source of inspiration for you."

"All right, Esme, we'll be on our best behavior," Dad assured her.

"And please do a normal Christmas dinner for once. None of your weird foods or experimental cuisine."

"We promise."

But Esme still didn't quite believe that they would keep their promise. It wasn't that they were malicious or deceptive, they were just terribly scatterbrained and it would slip their minds. So just to be on the safe side, she made a Christmas pudding with some brandy butter and brought it along. She was determined to give Billy a proper taste of Christmas, even if her parents fell through.

She had also told Billy that if he wasn't feeling up to it, he could change his mind about the visit or leave early. But he seemed quite calm when they met at the train station—calmer than Esme herself, at any rate. He only showed a bit of nervousness when he held out a package. "I know you said I don't have to bring presents," he said. "But I made these. Are they OK?"

It was a set of wooden cooking spoons, their handles carved with leafy vines and flowers, almost Art Nouveau in style. Just the day before, when he dropped by the clinic, Billy had given her a similar present—only hers were six measuring cups, and carved with what was easily recognizable was Angua and her five pups. They were almost too cute to be used.

"Oh, Billy, these are beautiful," she exclaimed over the spoons. "They'll love it. But—"

"What?"

"My parents don't really cook." That wasn't entirely true. "And when they do, they wouldn't use fancy spoons such as these." That part was true. Dad, the cook in the family, was the type who viewed recipes as more of a guideline, and to him, anything could be used as a kitchen utensil if you were determined enough. But Billy looked so crestfallen that Esme's soft heart took over. "You can still give them those though. They're so beautiful, my parents will probably put them on display or something." 

His face brightened up. "You sure?"

"Of course!"

As they got off the train at Rochester, Esme saw a familiar figure waiting outside the station by her parents' old car. "That's my sister, Sybil," she said to Billy.

"Photographer, lives in Edinburgh, right?"

Esme nodded, just as Sybil ran up to her and wrapped her in a bear hug. "Hiya, big sis!" She bent down to Angua. "And this must be Angua! Let's see if we can find her a Carrot, yeah?" Sybil was the one blessed with looks in the family. Esme's soft and rounded profile made her look meek and sometimes dumpy, as she was wont to describe herself, while Sybil was all sharp angles and delicate, elfin features, made all the more striking by her short black hair. But as the sister closest to Esme in age—only two years younger—she was also the closest Esme had to an ally in the family.

Esme introduced Billy. Sybil shook his hand, then whispered loudly to Esme, "He's cute, sis!"

"You have a girlfriend, Sibby," Esme chided, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, I'm allowed to appreciate beauty, am I not?"

"Don't mind her," Esme told Billy, who was looking like his whole face was on fire. "She's a terrible flirt."

On the drive from the station to their parents' house, Sybil insisted on making a detour to show Billy some of the sights. "That's where Charles Dickens used to live," she would say, or "That's the house used as the model for Miss Havisham's house in Great Expectations." Meanwhile, Esme became more and more aware of a permeating stink in the car, a nauseating mix of manure and decaying flesh. By the crinkle of his nose, she was sure Billy had noticed it as well but was too polite to say anything. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and asked, "Sibby, what's that smell?"

"What smell?" Sybil replied. "Oh, in the car? That'll be the lamb."

For a second, Esme thought it was her younger siblings' stupid idea of a prank. "What lamb?"

"The lamb for our dinner." Sybil chuckled to herself. "So Dad saw this chap on TV making this thing called '24-hour lamb', right, and he wanted to recreate it, so yesterday he and I went to pick up a freshly slaughtered lamb from some lady he knows who has a farm. Had to drive all the way down to Lydd too."

Esme exchanged a look with Billy and groaned inwardly. Either her dad had forgotten his promise to do a "normal" dinner, or this was his idea of normal. She didn't know which was worse.

"What on earth is a '24-hour lamb'?" Billy chimed in.

"You dig a hole in the ground, start a fire in there, put some damp straw on top, then you put a lamb in and cover it up and leave it there for 24 hours," said Sybil, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Supposedly the meat will just fall off the bones."

Billy turned to Esme with a raise of his eyebrow, either of curiosity or concern, but Esme only shook her head hopelessly. "Don't get your hopes up," she told him. "Knowing my dad, you'll be too busy picking bits of straw and dirt out of it to enjoy it. That is if it's even edible."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Sybil said over her shoulder. "It'll turn out fine."

Esme wanted to point out the many times Dad's experiments had, in fact, not turned out fine, but she knew she was fighting a losing battle and had no choice but to resign to what fate, or rather, her family had in store for her.

***

Finally, they arrived at the cottage that Esme's parents had chosen to settle down in seventeen years ago, a low, rambling building with a sagging roof and whitewashed brick walls that were usually hidden under a curtain of clematis and wisteria in the summer, and even now, still retained a certain romantic air thanks to a web of skeletal vines. A sprawling garden surrounded it.

Sybil parked the car out front and they all went in. The front door was pushed open with some difficulty, and it soon became clear why—jackets and scarves and wellies and umbrellas were piled up in a corner of the front hall, just behind the door, nearly obscuring the floor tiles. Esme was appalled to see Sybil casually kick the pile to the side before adding her own jacket and scarf to it. With a sigh, Esme picked the pile up and tried to sort it out, but there was no place to put the clothes except for a long dresser, and this was already covered in mail. She attempted to clear off the letters and flyers and parcels, but her hands were full of clothes.

"Oh, Esme, get off it," Sybil said, not turning around. "You know that once you leave, it'll just get messy again."

Billy stepped in. "Here," he said, putting the post into a tottering stack, leaving some room on top of the dresser for Esme to put the clothes down into a vague semblance of order. She gave him a grateful smile.

The house seemed deserted, but they could hear excited voices from the back. "They must be in the garden, digging up the lamb," Sybil said.

While they followed her through the house, Billy grabbed Esme's hand and whispered, "Relax." She nodded uncertainly.

The back garden was as unkempt as the rest of the house. For some, the place might look picturesque, with the bare tree limbs and raggedy bramble bushes forming a perfectly muted background for the bright red and orange of the holly and firethorn berries, but for Esme, it just brought back memories of getting scratched by stray branches and fending off the bugs that bred like mad under the cover of the thickets. The only place that looked like it had some attention was the shed at the bottom of the garden, where her dad did his glassblowing.

Four people were gathered in front of the shed, looking intently at something on the ground and arguing amongst themselves. "I'm telling you, Dad, it's not ready yet!" This was Tiffany, shaking her head of bright magenta hair.

Sam and Dad were both waving their long, gangly arms in front of her, looking like two windmills in dispute. "But it's called 24-hour lamb, and it's been 24 hours!" Dad said.

"Yeah, it may be burned, Tiff!" Sam always took Dad's side in every argument.

Mum looked up and saw Sybil striding toward them, with Esme and Billy trailing behind. Her face broke into a smile, and she ran to them with her arms wide open. Before anyone could open their mouth, Mum had engulfed first Esme, then Billy in a tight hug. Only after she'd let a startled Billy go that she seemed to remember herself. "Oh I'm so sorry," she said. "I should've asked if you'd like a hug first, shouldn't I?"

"No, it's alright," Billy managed to say. "Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Pendergast."

"Please, call me Ivy. It's lovely to meet you too, Billy. Hello, you," this was to Esme, along with a pinch of her cheek.

"Hi, Mum." Out of all the kids, Esme was the one that resembled their mum the most, at least in terms of their physical traits—the same dark hair and hazel eyes, the same soft features—and yet the way they carried themselves was so different that most people didn't pick up on their resemblance right away. Mum filled every space she was in with big, exuberant gestures, and even her hair was always loose, flying all over the place, while Esme always hung back, kept still, trying to make herself smaller and unnoticed, her hair in a neat, tight French braid.

She introduced her dad, Tiffany, and Sam. Their greetings were no less enthusiastic than Mum's, but Esme was glad when they didn't heap their attention on Billy, instead turning toward the mound of dirt on the ground. "Ever had salt-marsh lamb, Billy?" Dad asked. "Sorry, do you eat meat? I forgot to check with Esme."

"I still don't think it's ready," Tiffany said.

"But I'm hungry," whined Sam.

"Esme brought a pudding," Sybil said. "Eat that if you can't wait."

"No!" Esme shouted. "That's for later!"

She recognized in Billy the nonplussed but amused look people often had when they met her family for the first time, as he answered Dad, "Um, yes. No. I mean, I do eat meat, but I've never had salt-marsh lamb."

"Great! This will be your first taste then! Sam, fetch me the spade."

Under six pairs of watchful eyes, seven if you count Angua, Dad uncovered the mound of dirt with the solemn air of one of the Sutton Hoo excavators. Esme expected a plume of smoke, a cloud of steam, or the smell of cooking meat, to come out, but there was nothing, except for the smell of dirt and that stink she'd smelled in the car, getting stronger and stronger the further down the spade went. Dad, however, didn't seem to notice anything wrong.

"Aha!" he exclaimed triumphantly as he unearthed a blackened lump in the shape of... yes, the shape of a whole lamb. Billy turned away, his face turning a worrying shade of green.

"That looks... that looks raw, Dad," Sam said, as Dad scraped away some of the soot and ashes and opened the piece of burlap wrapped around the lamb.

"How can it be raw?!" Dad roared.

But if the smell was any indication, the lamb was indeed raw. And, to further drive home the point, Angua took an appreciative sniff and bounded forward, ready to sink her teeth into the haunch of raw sheep. "Angua, no!!!" Esme shouted and pulled her back, just in time.

She looked around at her family. Mum was shaking her head. Dad was red-faced and scraping in vain at the hole, trying to figure out where it had gone wrong. Her younger siblings were trying to suppress laughter, but a narrow glance from Esme sobered them up. Billy was still looking queasy. Her heart sank. He probably thinks we're all a bunch of ghouls.

"Dad, leave it," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "Mum, what are we going to do for dinner? Do we have anything else in the house?"

A panicked look crossed Mum's face, as if someone had just asked her to recite the first 100 digits of pi from memory.

"Are you telling me that this—lamb—was going to be our entire dinner?" Esme felt close to tears. "No sides, nothing?" But nobody was listening to her.

"It's the damned straw!" Dad shouted. "It's wet! I told you it was supposed to be damp, not wet!"

"Back in medieval times, people would've been glad for all this meat," Tiffany, who was studying history at Cambridge, said. "They wouldn't need side dishes."

"We—are—not—medieval—people!" Esme said through gritted teeth.

"Relax, Esme. It's fine," Sybil said.

"Hey, maybe we can put it in Dad's kiln!" Sam piped up. "That ought to cook it, right?"

Esme buried her face in her hands.

***

And so for Billy's first Christmas dinner with Esme's family, which took place on Boxing Day, they ended up eating Chinese takeaway before finishing with Esme's Christmas pudding, which had gone a little stale and had to be fried up in some butter, but that was actually quite delicious, so it was all right.

Still, the slight irritation Esme had felt the moment she arrived home and saw the messy front hall refused to go away. It wasn't directed at anyone in particular, just a general annoyance when the two parts of her life collided and she couldn't decide which part she belonged to, the sensible, practical one in London, or the chaotic but charming one in Kent.

The one thing that cheered her up was that Billy took it all in his strides. While waiting for Sybil to bring back the food, they lounged around the kitchen for a bit of a chat, and the inevitable question of how the two of them had met came up.

"Billy brought Angua into the clinic—" Esme began.

"Then we found her pups under a bridge," Billy followed. "We didn't meet a troll though, despite my name," he quickly added.

Everybody laughed, and Esme turned to Billy with a surprised grin. He grinned back. He must be feeling quite relaxed to be making jokes like that. Perhaps this would turn out well after all.

Once they sat down to eat (another oddity in the Pendergast household, which had no set mealtimes), Billy gave her mum the spoons, apologizing for not wrapping them nicely. Everybody oohed and aahed over them, and Dad started asking Billy all sorts of questions about woodworking, which Billy didn't seem to mind talking about. In fact, he was looking quite at home, though from time to time, he would take Esme's hand or touch his knee to her leg, either to assure her that everything was fine, or to assure himself that she was still there.

When the conversation turned to childhood, Esme started feeling a bit nervous. Mum was telling Billy about how the kids had all shown their aptitudes from a very early age—Sybil snapping away with the Polaroid camera she found at a flea market when she was five, Tiffany insisting on stopping at every historical site they came across while driving around in the camper van, and Sam going to bed as a baby with a paintbrush in his fist. "And Esme was always bringing home little injured things, of course," Mum said. "I still remember the first time. It was a worm that she accidentally cut in half while playing in the dirt. She was in tears for days after."

"I didn't know if it grew back or not, alright?" Esme said to Billy, defensive. "I thought I'd killed it. Not all worms can grow back, you know."

"What about you, Billy?" Dad said. "I bet you were the same as a kid, always tinkering around with chisel and things, right?"

Esme closed her eyes briefly. I've told them a million times, don't ask him about his life! She was trying to think of something to change the subject, but to her surprise, Billy was answering, calmly, "I suppose so. I used to carve the Uffington White Horse on little pendants for my dad, to sell in shops." His hand was clenched around hers under the table, but he gave her a brief smile to say it was all right.

Mum suddenly asked, "How come you're not wearing your White Horse necklace, Esme? I thought you loved it."

Esme hadn't worn the necklace since she and Billy started seeing each other, and she'd completely forgotten about it. "The silver's a bit tarnished, so I want to have it cleaned," she lied, ignoring Billy's questioning look.

Her answer seemed to satisfy Mum. They talked about the White Horse a bit, and then, to Esme's immense relief, the conversation veered toward prehistoric hill figures in general, and nothing more was said about horses or childhood.

It was only when they were on the late train back to London and Esme saw Billy almost visibly sag down in the seat that she realized how hard he'd tried to mask his anxiety during the visit. "You didn't have to put so much pressure on yourself," she said. "My parents really like you."

Probably even more than me, an unkind thought flitted through her mind, before she could stamp it down. Oh, she knew her parents loved her, albeit in a general, abstract way. But like? They didn't like her much. They tried to hide it, but Esme could always tell, even as a child. Kids can pick up on that kind of thing. She was too serious, too rigid for them. Well, they shouldn't have named me after a certain stern old witch then...

"Are you mad at me for giving them the spoons?" Billy asked.

"What? No! I told you it was fine."

"Then what is it?"

Was her irritation that noticeable? Esme knew that if she tried to change the subject, Billy would brood over it and become convinced that it was his fault somehow, so she spoke the truth. "It's not you. It's my parents. They always get on my nerves."

"So they're a bit absent-minded. It's not the end of the world."

"Try growing up with them, never knowing what you're going to eat, because they forget to prepare a meal, and you'll be having chocolate cake for dinner." In her anger, Esme had forgotten her self-imposed rule of not whinging about her parents to Billy. "Sibby and I constantly got into trouble at school because they kept forgetting Parents' Evening. When Tiff and Sam started school, I had to be the one that reminded them. I had to be strict with my siblings, so our parents could be fun. Sibby understood a bit of that, but Tiff and Sam never did. And all of my friends were always banging on about how they wished their parents were as cool as mine—"

"They still love you. They're still nice people."

Esme retorted, "You're just saying that because they're not your parents." Next to her, Billy flinched, almost imperceptibly—she felt it, rather than saw it, a slight stiffening of his shoulder, a tiny shift of his body away from her, and realized how cruel she'd sounded. "I'm sorry."

"No, 's alright." Billy gave her hand an awkward pat. "Just because I have a shit childhood doesn't mean you can't tell me about yours. We're not competing to see who has a shittier childhood, are we?"

"But I don't want to burden you with all this..."

"Is that why you stop wearing your necklace too, because you don't want to burden me?"

She was shocked at his accusing tone. "No! I just thought—I'm just being considerate..."

"What, you think I'm so fragile that I can't even look at a necklace?"

She didn't know how to respond to that. Billy was watching her intently, but when she didn't answer, when she couldn't even look at him, he turned toward the window and kept his eyes fixed on the glass, though there was nothing to see but darkness, broken by pockets of light from some village or town. They remained silent for the rest of the ride.

***

Esme decided to accompany Billy from the station back to his flat, hoping the walk would erase the strange tension between them, although this meant she would have to take the bus home. Billy just shrugged and said "Whatever you want," which she took as a bad sign. Silence thickened between them, heavy and sullen. More than once, Esme tried to say something to break it, but her mind was drawing a blank. Talking about it would make him feel bad, but not talking about it would confirm his accusation. So they just walked, Billy with his shoulder hunched, avoiding her eyes, while Angua scampered between them, looking from one person to another as if to ask what was wrong.

They had almost reached Billy's flat and the turn for the bus stop, where Esme planned to say goodbye, when Billy stopped so abruptly that she nearly walked into him.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"I don't remember leaving the lights on," Billy said. Both windows of his flat were indeed ablaze with light.

They approached slowly. The front door was closed but not locked. Esme's slight concern edged into panic. "Do you want me to call the police?" she asked, digging her phone out of her bag.

Billy shook his head, but his hand trembled as he pushed the door open, and he looked frightened, like a—like a lamb being led into slaughter, thought Esme. It was a silly idea, but it stuck, perhaps because her dad's horrible cooking experiment was still fresh in her mind. Yes, Billy didn't look like he was afraid because he didn't know what was behind the door. He was afraid because he knew exactly what was behind it.

And what was behind it was a man. A man, sprawled on the sofa and stuffing his face with the pigs in blankets Esme had made for Billy the other day in lieu of a proper Christmas dinner. He looked to be in his late thirties, with close-cropped hair, a square jaw, heavy stubble, and muscular, tattooed arms accentuated by his wrinkled T-shirt. Angua growled.

The other man's eyes, of a lighter brown than Billy's, turned to them, regarding them coldly.

"There you are, Billy. Thought I'd missed you," he said. "A family reunion at Christmas. Isn't it nice?"

Billy seemed to shrink in front of those malevolent eyes.

"H-hello, Jimmy," he said.

Chapter 7

A/N: I totally stole the lamb story from Joe Thomas's insane episode of the Off Menu podcast. If you haven't listened to Off Menu (or have only listened to Joe Quinn's episode), I highly recommend it.

Also, some spiciness is coming next chapter (properly this time, not like the embarrassing scene in Chapter 5!)

Taglist: @quinnypixie, @accidentalslag, @etherealglimmer

[malumae]

give Eros and Ren a kid or suffer rat wrath

if they had a kid meme.

long post under the cut.

name: lillia

gender: female she/her

general appearance: short and adorable little girl with very very very faint freckles and short wild hair. likes to dress up and play scientist / doctor but otherwise wears comfortable clothes: mostly pants and t-shirts.

personality: a little troublemaker. likes to set eros' rats free and/or bother infra. definitely has a short fuse and does not know how to handle emotions properly because, well, her parents are not the best at it either. she acts out, probably bites her parents when throwing tantrums and does not hesitate to verbally argue with kafka, firefly or silver wolf. feisty but fun.

special talents: baking. i feel like she'd learn how to bake after making her own recipes for random shit. muffins with the weirdest ingredients etc. someone gets her a cook book and she's all over it and actually learns how to properly bake.

who they like better: eros and silver wolf

who they take after more: it's a mixed bag of both. i think she's more animated and expresses herself closer to how eros does but can be petty and unforgiving like ren. also it's needless to say this child would not have a great time with them, at least not as they are right now, considering just how messy they can be. she thrives with her parents, they are in no way mean to her or abusive but it's one of those times where something is lacking on the emotional front. i think eros would be better at talking and bonding with her but i fear this child may develop some sort of anxious attachment style.

personal head canon: i have this idea that her favorite grown up is silver wolf because silver wolf would be like a fun big sister that she can hang out with, play games with and just chill with. she likes firefly too of course but sometimes firefly tries too hard and this girl just wants to say fuck it and have fun.

face claim: (cr.)