#Bloomer Bread

[askwhatsforlunch]

Banana and Peanut Butter Toast

Delicious and a proper reward after an early-morning rugby practise, this Banana and Peanut Butter Toast makes a simple, tasty brekkie! 

Ingredients (serves 1):

1 slice White Bloomer Bread

1 heaped teaspoon natural peanut butter

1/2 banana

1/2 teaspoon pure local honey

a few pumpkin seeds

Toast Bloomer Bread slice. Once toasted, spread generously with peanut butter.

Peel banana, and cut into slices. Arrange banana slices onto the peanut butter. Drizzle with honey, and sprinkle with pumpkin seeds.

Enjoy Banana and Peanut Butter Toast immediately, with a cup of strong coffee, piping hot tea, or a glass of milk. Happy Wednesday!

This breakfast, and a gorgeous sunrise are worth waking up early to kick my ruby ball on frosty grass!

[shitpostcharlie]

you got this, fam.

"It's never too late to be what you might have been." George Eliot

[dracolizardlars]

I should really stop eating bread but I refuse

[remodelling]

i need to stop bringing home free bread from work i have 3 fruit loaves in my freezer. i have 6 different loaves of bread in there i think actually

[chefgerardmolloy]

📢 “Beginners Bread Bakery” 🥁 👩‍🍳 New Half Day Cookery Class Experience at The Kitchen Cookery School at Chewton Hotel 👨‍🍳 @thekitchenatcg @chewtonglen 📸 “Irish Wholesome Wheaten Bread” 📸 “English White Bloomer Loaf & Bread Rolls” 📸 “Italian Garlic & Rosemary Focaccia” 🍽️ Happy Baking 👨‍🍳 #cooking #cookeryschool #cookeryclass #bakery #bread #focaccia #wheaten #bloomer #dough #baker #breadmaking #bakersofinstagram #chef #cheflife #teach #learn #thekitchencookeryschool #thekitchenatcg #chewtonglen #bakersbasket #freshlybaked #lovefood #bakingfromscratch #enjoy (at The Kitchen at Chewton Glen) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqWOG0qInUv/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[the-californicationist]

Picking Flowers

@pricesugarwife left this amazing comment on one of my posts and i couldn't get it out of my head...

pricesugarwife: Nos complaces con un smut Hades!Price x Persefone!Reader??? *se arrodilla*

te amo griss!! espero que te guste esta historia que escribí para ti, nena. 🩷🩷

TW: rape/non-con/cnc elements, loss of virginity, corruption, very bad greek mythology knowledge (sorry, it's just make believe okay jeez)

In a grove in Hellas, long, long ago… 

Before you opened your eyes, you already knew what you would see. Slowly, as sleep fell away from you, like the warmth of a blanket being pulled away from your body, a heavy darkness giving way to light, you could see a warm, egg yolk glow behind your eyelids. The sun had cut a path through your windowpane, and now it cast itself like a spell, masking its burn over your face. When you opened your eyes, you would squint through your lashes, looking up through the green mottled leaves, neon, blinding, of the twisted yew outside of your window. You could smell your mother’s bread baking in her old dutch oven, hints of oregano and pepper wafting through your room, bringing the warmth of the hearth with them. You could almost taste the crispy crust, roasted to perfection, protecting the soft, textured middle. 

Finally, you peeked between your lashes, and before you, your self-made dream came true. The sun filtered in through your glass a little less bright than what you had imagined, but the greens were there, and they reminded you that today was your favorite day: the arrival of Spring. 

“Sephie! Are you awake?”

Your mother’s sing-song voice fluttered down the hall and tucked itself through the crack of your bedroom door. She always knew when you woke up, and although you’d never questioned it, you had to admit it was uncanny. You chalked it up to the wonders of motherhood. She seemed to know every other thing about you, so why question it?

“Yes, Mom. Coming!” You called back, your own voice a little stronger, a little less like a delicate lark, a little more like a robin. 

You were very much a late bloomer, still living with your mother at almost twenty years of age, especially when most of the girls in your village had suitors or proposals by sixteen. But, you didn’t let it bother you. As your mother was ready to remind you, the thread of your life was your own, and you would follow its path until the end, whether you wanted to or not. If Lachesis had measured your life out to be this way, then that was that. Why question it?

You pulled on your robes, woven on your family loom of the finest silk threads. You had begged your mom to add a tight spiral of cyclamen along the hem, the flowers so familiar, their pink heads watching you as you followed your daily path to the river. So, she had insisted that you try. You were well enough a woman now, and more than skilled enough to craft your own clothes. And you had; it had been easier than you thought, and you added a few glass beads in that same heart-shaped petal to the tips of the cord of your belt. 

You owned no looking glass, but you never noticed its absence. There was so much more to do than to stare at something you couldn’t change. Focus on what you can do, your mother’s voice haunted your mind, not on what is already done. Besides, your mother insisted that you were beautiful, so why question it?

“Here, my darling,” your mom tapped you under your chin, handing you a cloth satchel full of bread, fruit, seeds, and dried meats, “Before you go to the river, please check on the well. It should have clear water for you to fill this skin. Fill it again on your way home. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t, Momma. I promise.”

“That’s my good girl.”

You were out of the door and heading down the hill to the well before you knew it, the feel of the soft grass comforting your heels, cold and damp from the morning dew. The village below you was coming alive, its people tending to their new lambs, planting seeds in the black, fertile soil, carrying buckets of water to and from the olive groves, pruning the dead branches away from the new growth on each branch. Their bustle and laughter as they worked together made you long to live in town. But, your mother had insisted that the town and its people would just be a distraction, and you’d never experienced such a thing; why question it?

When you approached the well, you were alone. You let your hands trace their way along the rough, grey stones, feeling the familiar edge, reaching for the thick rope to pull up the bucket. The worn hemp gave way, and the echo of the old wooden bucket hitting the sides of the well rang out like shrouded bells. You reached for the handle of the bucket, pulling it up to the rim, carefully filling your waterskin, making sure not to waste a drop. You used the rest to wash your face and hands, letting the cool water soak into your cheeks, adding moisture back to your body after a long sleep. 

Suddenly, your eyes darted up to the treeline just beyond the well’s clearing. You thought you saw a shadow that stretched just a little too long, shaped just a little too wrong… but when you studied the dark spaces between the trunks, there was nothing but lush overgrowth. You packed your waterskin and tossed the bucket back into the water; you were eager to get down to the river. The light always played tricks on you in this glade, so why question it?

You walked quite a ways through the valley, using your fingers and the softness of your touch to coax the flowers to bloom and grow as you let your hand fondle its way through the tall grass. When you reached your river, you savored the sight. The way that it curved into a deep ox bow was your favorite thing. It was as if the river had carved out a small, circular stage just for you. In it, you worked on your crafts, practicing growing buds from seeds, trees from roots, ivy from the palm of your hand. Then, you sent it out, down the river towards town, making sure the village was well-shaded, well-fed, and well-protected from the elements. 

It was hard work, and you always slept after a long afternoon of using your magic, but your mother always said that no one else would be able to do a better job than you, so you kept at it, and it was the one thing you never questioned. 

This time, when you woke up from your nap, you knew you weren’t alone. As you sat up, you looked around, thinking that a striped kri-kri or a golden jackal would be nibbling at the food in your pack. But, sitting with his legs crossed, was a man dressed only in a dark blue chilton, the shoulder of which hung loosely around his waist as if he were a farmer who had been toiling in the field. He was no farmer. Not with those inhuman eyes of ice fire, pale and bright, glowing although the sun was at his back. His body was that of a giant, muscle-bound and heavy, full of power just rippling beneath the surface. He reminded you of the well. How deep did his strength flow? His beard and chest were furry but well-groomed, just like that of a nobleman. 

You greeted him, apologizing for your slumber,

“Good day, sir. Forgive my sleeping. I was just tending to my flowers, and I must have dozed off.”

“No trouble,” his smile came to him easily, and you enjoyed it, basking in it, “I enjoy watching you work. It is a gift to see it up close.”

He reached out his hand and plucked one of your most vibrant hyacinths from its stem, cradling your art in his huge hands. 

“Beautiful,” he purred, speaking of the flower but looking at you. 

“Thank you, sir. Can I offer you some bread or fruit from my pack? I carried clean water from the well this morning.”

“How generous you are,” his smile showed his straight, large teeth this time, and he tucked your own flower behind your ear, letting the delicate petals tickle your sensitive flesh.

You prepared a small piece of bread for him, decorating it with nuts and juicy lobes of fruit that you had carefully peeled with your hands, tearing off a piece of dried meat for him to try as well. You ate with him in companionable silence, watching him as he chewed. Whereas the kri-kri would have greedily gobbled up the bread from your palm, this man seemed unsurprised by it. What was a delicacy for some of Gaia’s creatures was a mere appetizer for others. But, it may be that he had much finer fare at home, so why question it?

“Do you live near to this glade, sir?” You asked, hoping to learn more about your handsome stranger. 

His hands peeled the delicate pith from the citrus lobe you had given him, expertly trimming it as if he had done it for a thousand mornings, knowing exactly how hard or easy he needed to pull the flesh for it to yield, feeding it into his mouth in a wet, juicy bite, letting the sweet nectar soak into his beard and become sticky. 

He chewed slowly, eyeing you carefully as he did, seemingly in no rush to answer your question. So, you tacked on another one, impatiently, 

“What should I call you?”

“I have been called many names,” he spoke, looking down at his hands, staring at his open palms as if to divine some sort of future before his eyes shot back to yours, pinning you where you sat.

“Hm,” you smiled, inching closer, pretending to get a better look at him, studying him like a statue at a temple, “You do not look like an Akakios, nor an Eirenaios…”

“No,” he chuckled, his laugh rolling like a volcanic crag inside of his throat, “I should think not.”

“I cannot imagine naming you Melanthios, though it fits your face,” you giggled.

“I’m not sure I appreciate that, little petal.”

His laugh was still jovial, so you pushed him further, 

“Perhaps Kleisthenes. Your strength is apparent, as is your status. Surely, that must fit you.”

You leaned back, biting off another chunk of bread, saving the crust for last, satisfied with your naming ritual.

He shook his head, 

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s very brief, or at least much less trouble than Kleisthenes.”

“Bion, then.”

“Mm,” he frowned a bit at the edges of his smile, “Quite the opposite in essence, I’m afraid.”

“Perhaps you are a foreigner. One of Troy, or Rome, even? Something brief, like John.”

“I am foreign enough to this land, so I suppose John is close enough,” he sighed, allowing you to finally take your win. 

You hadn’t realized how close you had drawn yourself into him. You were now near enough to smell the oils on his skin: laurel, salt, and something akin to tarnished silver. His hand reached out to touch the curls of your hair, carefully braided by your mother, entwined with small flowers and ivy stems to keep it off of your neck. But, after your nap, one lock had escaped and was now being delicately twirled in this man’s immense fingers. 

“And what should I call you, little flower? Marjoram is too serious for you. Iris, not serious enough.”

“Persephone,” you offered, unwilling to force him to endure the same naming torture you had just gone through. 

“Ah!” He gasped, leaning toward your face as if seeing you for the first time, “Persephone.”

Then, before you could even know what was happening to you, your lips were tasting his. He was cradling you in his arms, holding your limp body against his bare chest, the gold of his necklaces and armbands warm from his body heat as they pressed into your skin. He was kissing you, moving his mouth against yours, forcing your jaw to yield to him, to take his tongue into the hollow of your cheeks, to suck the citrus juice from it, the memory of his food still fresh on the muscle. 

You had never been kissed before, even though you had practiced on two of your fingers held tightly together, watching lovers sneak up to the well on hot days of work to do to each other what you longed for someone to do to you. It was so much more satisfying to feel another’s lips move against your own, nothing like the static, chaste practice you’d tried to mimic. 

Only now, after you were left gasping, feeling his hands wander along the edges of your chilton, his fingers beginning to dig into the loose gaps in the fabric, did you question whether you should be kissing this man or not. But, it felt too good to stop. 

John, or whoever he was, pulled away for a moment, and his eyes seemed to study your mouth, inspecting your plump, swollen lips as if something was wrong. You wrapped your hands around his neck to steady yourself, and he lay you back, letting your head be supported by the plush grasses beneath you. He spoke to you in a hushed whisper, even though no one was around for miles, 

“I have been watching you, Persephone. I see you growing your lush gardens, creating a world full of life, all for me to take. And I come back every autumn, when the sun is shy and the sky is dark, just to inspect all of the gifts you have given me,” he kissed you again, his hand finally snaking its way under the shoulder of your robes, peeling it down slowly to reveal your full breasts to the open air, “And I eat them up. All of them, and I take them home. I’ve been keeping them for you. All of your treasures from years past. They’re still there for you to see.”

Then, before you could ask him what he meant, his mouth latched onto the dark nipple of your breast, suckling at it like a babe. And then, very much not like a babe. Like something else. Like a wolf digging the marrow from a bone. Like an otter clawing at a clam, slurping up the tender meat inside. 

And then, he stopped. He sat up, holding you by the shoulders and helping you sit up with him, fixing your top so that you were covered again, dizzy and reeling from his attention, the wet skin of your aching nipples sticking to the silk fabric of your gown. 

“Sir, I…”

“Come with me, love,” he held out his hand, “Don’t you want to meet your old friends?”

You didn’t know what to say, but he seemed so friendly. There was a dark, twisted piece of wort inside of you, growing and twining itself around your belly that made you want to see if he might put his mouth on you again. It had been so lovely… Besides, you very much missed your old creations. You remembered hundreds and hundreds of seasons of creations you had made, trees and plants, fruits and flowers. It would be wonderful to be reminded of all of the things you had brought into the world. If he had kept them for you, it may even be rude to refuse his hospitality. He seemed so sure, so why question it?

So, you took his hand, and he led you through the earth, ripping at the dirt like a heavy veil, marching down into the darkness, leading you step after step down a winding, rocky staircase. Above your head, you saw the last bit of a ruby-colored sun, setting in the distance, illuminating the ceiling of roots and fungus that hung above you as you delved further into his depths. 

Then, your heart skipped a beat. You saw your river again, her wine-dark waters now black, curling in that same ox bow pattern, cutting the land in half. On one bank, the souls of the living waited to be ferried across, and on the other, fields and fields of your own flowers, frozen in time, neither growing nor dead, shrouded in darkness in the grey soil of the Underworld. 

He led you onward, towards his blue, gleaming castle, all of its walls made of shining glass, distorting the world outside, and concealing the one within. You marveled at the wide door, its ebon gate the only iron you could see, and all of the castle guards were the dead. Their lifeless eyes gray and cloudy, set inside of gaunt, bony faces, unseeing, unfeeling. You did not fear them, even though you were sure you were meant to. You knew them. You had made the food that fed them while they were alive. You had grown the trees and bushes that had sheltered them when they lay beneath your boughs, exhausted from their labor or their warfare. Who was afraid of an old friend?

Then, you watched your companion climb the long stair up to the throne of Hades, for that is who he was after all, and he sat on its plush seat, motioning for you to sit in an equally-crafted chair beside him. There was no difference between the two thrones. His was not higher, nor was it more elaborate. So, you sat, waiting to see what Hades wanted to show you. 

A delightful processional began, and you spotted some of your first flowers being brought to you on pedestals and pillows, you ooh’d and ahh’d at them, sharing stories and listening to Hades tell you all of his tales of how he brought them here to keep. How he’d waited so long for you to come and join him here, to rule in the Underworld beside him as its queen. 

“What do you think, love? My people are desperate for more of your creations. You are the only one who reminds them of home. They see your trees and your flowers, your fish and your fruits, and their souls finally know peace. Be my queen, rule beside me, help me put these souls to rest here in Elysium.”

“I am still a maid, sir,” you told him, “My mother is the one who would make that choice for me.”

He looked at you confused,

“You are a goddess most powerful. There is no one who can make choices for you. Even I am no match for your magic. I cannot bloom these fields.”

“When I return home, I will consult her wisdom, and she will help us marry.”

“Very well,” he sighed, “Perhaps you will at least allow me to show you the same hospitality as you have shown me. There is a feast that awaits you in my chambers. Will you join me, petal?”

You had no excuse. How could you refuse him the same thing you had provided. After dinner, you would return home and tell your mother about this handsome suitor.

You followed him from the throne room and entered his chambers, sitting on a wide lounge where platters of meat and fruit and honey in wide bowls waited for you to dig into them. You did not shy away now that you were in the comfort of his rooms, letting Hades sit beside you, as close as he could, feeding you berries and sweetmeats from his hands, dipping his fingers into your lips and letting you suck them clean, laughing and joking with you. 

He had done a poor job of tying your robe back onto your shoulder, and it kept falling down. Finally, when you were about to adjust it again, he stopped you, pulling it down even further to hang with the cord of your belt, letting your breasts hang free upon your ribs, heavy and full, sensitive from his earlier ministrations. 

“C’mere, love. Lay back and let me feed you. You must be so tired from your work today,” he murmured in your ear, allowing you to lay your back across his chest, his legs spread wide to allow you to sit between them.

You did as he bade, letting him feed you grapes dipped in honey, delicious fish and mussels, crab and octopus still cold and fresh. He ate, too, feeding you sometimes from his own mouth, bending to kiss you with sweet bites between his teeth. 

Then, when you had both had your fill, he used his hands to rub your sore muscles, easing the tension in your neck, down your shoulders, and then finally, he stopped,

“Alright, love. We should bring you back to Demeter. I’m sure she is waiting.”

“No,” you protested, ignoring the fact that he knew your mother’s name, “I mean… I thought we could stay a bit longer. I’m so full; a journey would be too arduous right now.”

“Oh?” He returned to petting you, letting his hands trace just outside of your breasts, fingers skating through your underarms and then up along the thin skin of your neck, “How should we occupy our time, my love?”

“Just… like this,” you let your hands wander to his strong thighs, massaging down his knees and calves, admiring the muscles there. 

“If that’s what you want, my love, then you shall have it. All that you want shall be yours,” his tone was dark in a way you had never heard from another person, but you felt so good, so why question it?

His hands were callused and warm as they covered your sensitive breasts, plucking at your nipples like the petals of one of your flowers, and you mewled from the pleasure, asking him for more and more and more.

Then, you felt his mouth on your neck, sucking and licking you, reminding you of how it felt when his mouth was on your tits, making your flesh tingle like the crackle of lighting, like the cold of the first swim of the season. 

So, you turned towards him, spreading your legs on either side of his hips, sitting proudly in his lap, hoping he would return his mouth to where it was needed. And he did. It was as if he read your mind, knowing you wanted him to suck and suck and suck against the softness of your skin, to use his tongue to press into the nub of your nipple, over and over until you felt your legs begin to shake as if you were shivering from the cold. 

“My pretty flower, it feels like you need something else, hm? What would you like? I will give you Olympus if you ask me for it.”

You weren’t sure what to ask for. When a flower asks to be picked, growing symmetrical and soft as it does, what does it know about the plucking? Only picked flowers know what they’re really asking for, don’t they?

“I don’t know… I just… I need…” You tried to make sense of your body’s wishes, and why you were rocking your hips back and forth, why you needed to feel something between your thighs. 

Hades’ smile widened, that dark beard pressed out of the way of his full mouth as it turned up into a grin, 

“How about this, hm?” 

He fumbled with your robes and his, and then you felt yourself sigh with relief when he placed some part of him between your legs, giving you something to rub against through your softest petals, wet with excitement and desire. You both sighed, and you could feel the heat of him as you rocked back and forth. It felt like his wrist, but then again, it didn’t. It was wide enough, but at the end, instead of a hand, it was the fleshy edge of another tongue, perhaps. Something that was licking your hole every time you passed over it. 

Eventually, everything was wet beneath you. His robes, your robes, his body, your body… it was a sticky, dripping mess. You had lost your breath, your heart beating out of your chest, your mind sparkling like a fire and then going blank like you had drank too much wine. Over and over, you felt everything and then nothing. It may have been hours, but you couldn’t tell. He didn’t seem like he was in a rush to be finished with your game, so you didn’t question it. 

“More, still?” He finally asked, kissing you on the mouth sweetly, sucking on the tip of your lolling tongue, “My greedy little flower…”

You weren’t sure what more there was. But, he showed you. This time, when you rocked back, he used his hand to notch himself at your hole, and if you pushed forward, you would have to press yourself onto him, to take him inside of yourself somehow. It was the same way you had used your fingers inside yourself to play in your bed or in your glade by the river, just touching yourself for the comfort of it. 

But, this was different. This was not comfort, it was magic. It felt like old magic, something from the world as it was before. And yet, he had promised you whatever you wanted, so you didn’t question it. 

As you slipped yourself over his fleshy knob, you experimented with your movements, rolling your hips back and forth, seeing how it felt to push him deeper and deeper inside of you, stopping when you felt like you were being stretched open. Then, you tried circles, turning your hips around and around as you sat in his lap, feeling him slipping deeper and deeper inside of you as you found your rhythm. 

He was busying himself with kissing you, or suckling from your nipples, but you could tell he was enjoying himself as much as you were. His grunting was that of a rutting deer, hoarse and loud. Finally, he reached some sort of limit, and he grabbed you, changing places, pressing you beneath him on the lounge, nearly ripping off your robes and his own, making you naked in front of him. 

Then, you saw what you had been using for your pleasure. His phallus stood tall and strong against his belly, ruddy and throbbing, shining with your wet nectar. You had never seen one up close, and when you cradled it in your hands, it felt alive, like it was separate from him even though its thick root was buried deep inside his body. 

Hades’ eyes glowed bright blue, his own magicks coursing within him, and he told you,

“Open your legs.”

So, you obeyed, entranced by his power and the feeling you were experiencing, weightless and floating in your own mind. He fed himself into you, as deep as you had gone and then deeper, not stopping when you hissed in a breath from the feeling of your muscles stretching beyond the point of comfort, delving far enough to cause pain. 

“Ahh!” You cried out, but he shushed you with his mouth, kissing you again and again, distracting you from the discomfort of his invasion. 

“That’s my good girl…” He praised you, just as your mother always did, for a job well-done or a chore checked off the list. 

But, you didn’t feel like you were doing a chore. In fact, you felt like you were watching him do one for you. His thrusting was violent and repetitive, his huge rod pounding into you with every snap of his hips, grinding his tip inside of you deeper and deeper. As you moved past the pain and back into a throbbing sort of pleasure, he looked as if he was taking your pain away from you in this ritual. His face was set in a grimace, his eyes ferocious and snarling, his voice growling and letting out only deep, throaty whines. 

So, you did what he had done for you. You kissed his furry chest and latched onto his soft nipple, listening to him cry out with a sudden shout. 

“Love, I can’t… ”

You didn’t know how to help him, so you kept sucking and sucking, hoping you would bring him the pleasure that you felt, that you might ease his pain. 

But, he grabbed your face in his huge hands, pulling you away from his chest, squeezing your cheeks to make your lips press into a helpless sort of pout. 

He growled down at you like a wounded animal,

“So beautiful. My queen. My perfect little flower.”

Then, you felt your body tumble into another one of your hypnotic phases; your muscles clenching, your toes curling, your breath neither coming in nor rushing out, helpless to your own reaction. 

“Unghff-fuck… that’s it. Persephone…” He looked at you with those eyes, the eyes of some unearthly being, the bright icy glow keeping you in that cyclone of pleasure, thrashing you with it over and over, making you feel a wet gush between your legs, warm and slick. 

He released your face and leaned backwards, peering down at your body from his kneeling position, letting you watch how he was pistoning inside of you, pressing himself through you and filling you up. He watched himself for a moment, staring down at where you were joined, and then he sank himself all the way in and tossed back his head with a bellowing shout.

You felt his prick writhing inside of you, pulsing and throbbing. You waited, panting with him, watching him wipe the sweat from his brow. He pulled himself out slowly, and lay it on your belly, letting you see the last of his seed drooled from his tip. There was blood on your skin when he pulled away, and as much as you tried to wipe it away, it stained.

Hades carried you to his bed, wrapping you in his dark blue silk sheets, cradling you in his arms until you both drifted off to sleep. 

You awoke to the sound of a woman crying. A voice calling your name. But, you were so tired, you must have been dreaming, so you didn’t question it. 

AO3 Link -- Thank you for the bookmarks and kudos! <3

[faellain]

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident

Summary: About four years after the events of First Class, Erik arrives at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with two little twins who he didn't know existed. Thinking he doesn't know what to do, he runs to Charles, not knowing the state his old friend is in.

Snippet 3

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the next morning, erik tiredly takes the twins down to the kitchen, providing them a breakfast of orange juice, apple slices, and toast with butter. he drinks three cups of black coffee and eats a single apple slice. without him there, and with charles in a state, hank has forgone actual coffee for instant like a savage. it might as well be mud as far as erik is concerned.

"i hate toast," pietro tells him and briefly erik wonders how anyone could hate toasted bread.

erik sighs beleagueredly, "when i was young, i'd be grateful for any meal- wanda, do not turn your brother's toast into something else."

"yeah, i don't if i can do that again," she admits sheepishly, pulling the hand that was about to tap her brother's toast away, "i kinda don't know how i did it to the cookies."

"you're young. i didn't know how to master my own mutation till i was older and even then, sometimes i still needed help," erik assures her. wanda happily munches on her apples after that. pietro rolls his eyes.

he cleans up everything, wondering just how to start this day. it wasn't as if his children were full grown adults who he could toss into the danger room. he did not know where to begin training seven year olds. most mutants didn't even manifest until puberty... but his kids were early bloomers.

as he picks up breakfast, he hears footsteps coming around the corner. at first, he assumes it's hank. perhaps the other actually decided to emerge out of his lab at a reasonable hour. but hank walks with a heavy footstep from his mutation. these steps are light, stilted.

"oh!" he hears charles say, "well, uh, hello you two."

"you're the guy who punched dad!" laughs pietro, "you got 'im good!"

erik turns, "pietro-"

charles kneels down to speak with the children at eye level in their chairs, "he told me you have mutations of your own. what can you both do?"

"i run fast!" pietro exclaims before dashing out of his chair, leaving charles' hair whipping against his face. after a mere moment, he comes back with an empty glass which he offers to erik, "here, dad, you can wash this too."

"very impressive," charles tells him and pietro beams.

erik takes the glass as charles stares at it briefly before turning his attention back to the children. most likely it had come from his room. he turns and smiles at wanda.

"and you, little one?" he asks her.

"my powers are kinda funny," she admits, "i usually just use them to hold pietro in place or make things float when i get upset. but i turned snicker-whatevers into chocolate chip cookies yesterday."

finally, charles looks at erik, clear realization of just why erik has come to him finally dawning on him. pietro would grow to be an ordinary mutant, one who would need training and would excell, but not right away. wanda was like nothing they had ever seen before. charles turns back to her, nodding, and squeezing her little hands.

"that's very special. you both are," he tells her and then turns to pietro before moving back to look at both of them, "how about you two go and play in the yard? i have a tire swing out there you might like."

they both cheer and wanda looks at erik, "can we, papa?"

"go ahead. just don't go past the tree," he says. they promise, not that he trusts pietro to abide by that promise. but they both take each other's hands and dash off at wanda's speed.

charles stands, moving to make his own coffee, "they're lovely children… you never told me."

"i didn't know," erik replies, "magda didn't want my life for them."

"doesn't surprise me. vengenance, death of humanity and all that," charles murmurs as he pulls out a mug.

erik notices that he did shower at some point between their arguement and now. his hair lacks the grease and the smell has disappated in favor of the soap charles prefers. even years later, he could smell that soap and know charles was near.

"i don't understand her power," erik cuts to the chase, "i assumed she was telekinetic. and then one day she changed the color of her shirt by wishing it. and now the cookies."

"…you're scared of her," charles says, looking at him again. erik wants to die beneath that gaze.

"i'm scared of what others might do to her."

charles digs out one of the chocolate chip cookies from the pantry, erik resisting his desire to glibly remind charles that those are not a breakfast food. he sniffs it, stares at it before taking a bite and nodding in odd approval. at least his daughter didn't turn them into cookies that tasted bad.

"i suppose we shouldn't be surprised considering just how powerful her father is," charles says absently.

"perhaps only surpassed by a child of yours," hums erik, tiredly. imagning a child with equal or greater telepathic ability to charles is rather insane. he is perhaps the strongest telepath they know, even more powerful than emma.

charles laughs dismissevly, "that will never happen. i was careful before and i don't want one. i never did."

"you opened a school."

"yes. for school aged children with mutations like your children," he reminds erik, tone clipped as he stares at the coffee carafe filling up, "not babies. i shouldn't- it's one thing to teach children, it's another to raise them."

erik goes quiet. that he at least agrees with. at least he had a good example, but he knows a little about charles and raven's upbringing. mostly, frustratingly, from raven. charles knew everything about erik, yet charles hid his life, his pain from him constantly. even raven didn't speak much on their life outside of their inattentive mother who charles loved deeply anyway.

"hank invited me to stay the night after wanda changed the cookies," erik explains, quietly, too awkward. it's so strange to lack the helmet, but have charles in his arm's reach, yet not feel the other sharing his mind, knowing his thoughts. he would never let anyone else do that, "but we can leave."

charles shakes his head, "no. clearly we at least need to figure out what wanda's mutation is. do your- does raven know about them?"

"no," erik explains, "i haven't told any of them. to be honest, i've gone totally radio silent on them. i need to rectify that. give them some lie to keep them passive."

"you're the one who divided us," charles huffs, "it's not like they can tell you no. are you telling me you don't trust angel and raven with your kids?"

"i do," erik assures, "but we have other things on our plate. riptide is… missing. i had him investigating some possible mutants in vietnam and he's disappeared."

"disappeared?" reiterates charles, "should i be concerned? sean and alex were deployed early into this mess."

erik feels his heart speed up, "deployed?"

"sean got drafted," charles explains, "alex decided to enlist so he wouldn't have to go alone."

"and you let them just go? with the military?" erik snaps, "well, of course you did. you would. you and your peace."

"don't turn this into something it isn't," huffs charles, "i hadn't been taking the serum them. i asked sean if he wanted me to try and get him rejected. he told me no. they wouldn't be in any danger if you hadn't turned a million missiles on the government in cuba!"

"what you have always failed to see charles is that we were always in danger!"

charles turns on him rapidly, "not every human is the kind that hurt you."

"it is only a matter of time before they become them," erik snaps, leaving the dried dishes in a rack so he isn't tempted to throw them.

he can feel every knife in the shelf. their fields pull at him. the fridge feels like an atomic bomb, each little component awaiting his command. feeling the push and pull of the fields is his life, its his very nature. just as minds were charles'. but he's shut them out. where normally his feelings would be blaring loudly in charles' mind, he imagines himself as a giant black void to the former telepath.

how can it not be like losing a limb? then, of course, charles lost his legs. erik has lost so many things in his lifetime. his home, his safety, his parents, his autonomy… even charles himself. but he has never lost part of himself. even if they put him in a plastic cube, he could feel the push of magnets where the could not reach them.

"if that's true, then it is because you believe it so," charles replies, taking the carafe and pouring it into a mug.

instead of going for sugar or cream, charles grabs whiskey, angrily dumping it into the bitter drink. erik snatches it fromt he counter.

"i think you have had enough," erik tells him before dumping the entire mug down the drain.

"erik! goddamn you!" charles growls, shoving him almost childishly. his punch had been lucky and he never really had the stomach for true violence.

he takes charles' wrists, holding them tightly as he glares, "i said i think you've had enough."

"you do not get to waltz in here and pretend like we're still friends," charles writhes his wrists angrily, "you stopped being the erik i knew the minute you killed shaw!"

"shaw had to die!" erik replies, baring his teeth. sean had once teased him for his smile being shark-like, but he certainly feels it now. he feels like an angry animal with prey between its jaws, "you will never understand! do you think an absent mother compares at all to things he did to me?!"

charles attempts to kick him in the knee, but erik is stronger and while he doesn't let go, he does fall forward, pressing himself against charles and the counter. as he goes to start shouting again, he notices charles is shaking. he does not look like a frightened doe as one might expect from a doe-eyed man.

instead, he is defiant. there is fear in his eyes, something old, something that has nothing to do with erik. but in the face of erik's anger, charles does not waiver. his body betrays him, but he holds a brave face, a stalwart indignation like an immovable ship, anchored to a seafloor.

the first time erik had kissed charles, they had been sharing a bed as they went to meet sean. all of the two-bed rooms had been booked which left them with either one of them on the floor or both in the bed. originally, erik had planned to take the floor, but charles had pulled him up into the bed.

"you don't think about me the way most people do," charles whispered, the only light coming the street lamps flickering outside, "i don't mean to pry. i can't help it sometimes."

"what do you mean?"

charles smiled softly, rolling his eyes, "you'd think it very silly i imagine. but you always think my eyes are a different shade of blue. it's like you can't decide how to describe them. but you notice them when you think i'm being particularly clever."

erik had blushed, his very obvious feelings being laid bare by the telepath in bed with him. he had admired charles from the minute they had met. how could he not admire the first man to tell him he wasn't alone? the man who had saved his life?

"it helps that you are usually particularly clever when you're not being particularly foolish," erik managed to reply.

this time charles blushed, looking away. his teeth pierced those already pretty red lips slightly. oh. that bastard. he knew what he was doing.

"are you going to do anything about it if i am?" charles asked, apparently not realizing he was reading erik's thoughts. or, if he did, he clearly did not care.

they were so young then. their powers still felt so fresh and untrained, even when they had more control than most. a few items shuddered at that moment when erik did.

ignoring them, he ran a hand up charles' neck to cup his cheek, "i think i'm going to kiss you."

"oh, i very much hope you do."

kissing charles xavier had been so soft. both of them had considered sex that night, but had instead enjoyed the gift of exploring the other's mouth. later, erik would realize charles had been hoping for this because he tasted particularly like gum. he had pressed kisses along soft lips, nipped until charles' lips were swollen, they had gone for each other until both were breathless.

charles had let out soft little gasps and moans. erik had worshipped his lips, his cheeks, his neck. they were like two demigods, entangled, high priests of the other's temple. erik had wanted to devour charles whole. he'd been smooth, kind, gentle, but mischevious. that moment was a fairytale.

this is not like that.

this was a nightmare. from the minute erik's teeth had clicked against charles' own, he knew that it was. there was none of their old kindness to be had. erik hated charles' scratchy beard. he hated that charles clearly no longer knew what he wanted, instead fighting for dominance of the kiss. erik had at first pulled away only for charles to pull him back, bruise his lips, bite his tongue.

erik presses charles back harder, taking back his tongue and shoving it down charles' throat. he wants to choke him with it, he wants to make sure he can't breathe. their teeth click again when charles mirrors the tilt of his head as they both try to deepen the kiss.

did charles want to suffocate as much as erik hopes to do so?

erik pulls back when charles' breath doesn't stop despite that, tugs fiercely on his lip with his teeth. those paled lips look almost back to their former glory, but he even such ferocity has not revived their blushed hues.

"i hate you," charles whispers, voice cracking, bitter, "i hate you."

"the feeling, old friend," erik snaps mockingly, "is mututal."

they dive back in anyway, charles finally breaking a hand free to claw down erik's back. nail marks redden beneath erik's shirt. the action also earns him a hardening in erik's pants, making him smirk against the larger man's lips. instead of giving him what he's asking for, erik wraps a hand around charles' throat.

"if i did not need you," he snarls before trailing off, "do you know how easy it would be?"

it would not be easy. erik isn't even pressing down against charles' neck. all he is doing is holding it, the grip barely there. but- but it changes something in charles' expression. the fear that had disappeated returns. suddenly nails claw at his hand.

"let go, erik, let go."

"i thought you hated me. didn't you expect this?" asks erik, voice mournful as it settles in once again that charles simply does not know what he thinking. how he could never hurt charles like that again.

"please," charles suddenly begs, voice desperate, "please, erik, let me go."

erik backs away like he's been burned, charles turning quickly on his heels as he gasps for air as if erik had been truly choking him. he's running as best that his legs, still stilted, still obviously not walking the way humans with functional spines walk, can take him. without meaning to, he shoves past hank who has finally emerged for breakfast.

hank looks at erik, "what the fuck did you do?"

[b1ackgh0st]

Writing as many HCs for Trolls characters as humanly possible!

Starting off strong with the Snack Pack + Poppy & Branch!

♡Poppy♡

She was a later bloomer. Most (pop) trolls have a little bit of tit, but she was flat as Branch's voice at the beginning of the first movie.

Had a toxic best friend at one point. Nobody liked Poppy when she was young, but as soon as she became an adult, she was mote liked than anyone else.

Prefers black coffee over any other kind

Her favorite flavour is strawberry!

Even though she likes almost any flavour, any candy she has that's lemon or watermelon she gives to Branch because he is very addicted.

Speaking of which, she can't stomach spicy food at all and tends to projectile vomit.

Gets sick pretty easily, but won't admit it.

No one knows how she does it, but she can appear almost instantly. Whether it's in Branch's room at midnight or behind anyone in a crowded area, it's alarming.

Not physically violent.

However...

Poppy is deranged AF!

She will verbally and mentally threaten people... and lord it's probably scary.

Too much of a morning person

By that, I mean she wakes up at around 3 am everyday after falling asleep at around 7 pm and starts her daily routine.

Refuses to wear make-up

Has never had acne or anything similar

Most Pop Trolls, Poppy included, have extream hair growth. She has to shave her legs daily.

Has literally no skincare routine

Unfortunately, she has to make her own shampoo because anything she can find in shops doesn't work and just causes dead ends and very greasy hair.

Very fidgety ADHD-er

□Branch□

Branch has the most excessive skincare routine ever

Wears A LOT of makeup to hide scars and stuff

Breaks out really easily

Autistic! Not Yay!

Or maybe it is Yay

Anyways, he had problems with bright lights, loud sounds, being close to other people, some kinds fo texture, and some scents

Has around seventy homemade candles around the bunker, all scented slightly different.

Most of them smell like citrus

Sucks at making coffee at home, therefore his coffee orders are pretty specific.

Despite going back onto society, he's still a feral troll.

Which means that, while pop trolls are omnivores who need lots of plants and sweets in their diet, Branch's diet is almost exclusively meat, sweets, and breads.

Has bitten Poppy before. (It was an accident, I promise. No trolls were harmed.)

While he may not overreact on safty stuff or the Bergens anymore, he' started overreacting to everything else.

Oh, Guy tripped and scraped his knee? GET HIM TO THE DOCTOR HE'S DYING!

Mr. Dinkles is lost again? HE COULD BE ANYWHERE WE'LL NEVER MIND HIM!

Yeah.

Insomniac, unfortunately.

Biggie!!

Eats bugs. (Small stuff like ants)

Also kind of deranged.

Or he had some undiagnosed mental stuff

Prefers tea

Also has ADHD

I ddont really have much since he's pretty perfect when it comes to the movies and his character-

SMIDGE

Oldest in the gang, actually

She's thirty-eight, and witness Poppy hatching UP CLOSE

Poppy kind of sees her as a mother figure, mostly because Poppy never had a mother.

Smidge tried to have a kid once (yes, it was Milton's.), but it was a miscarriage

Her short stature and abnormal strength is actually a very rare genetic phenomenon

She used to have a really smooth, "feminine" voice,but after years of working out and screaming at the top of her lungs, her voice is scratchy now

Wants to do speech therapy to try and get her old voice back, but... well, Pop Village doesn't have stuff like that.

Has low self-esteem

Has been married to Milton for about a year (By the end of TBT)

Only drinks energy drinks, always Cherry flavour. (Or something similar)

Just a little crazy, but aren't we all?

The reason she's so close to Poppy is because right before the tunnel thing to get away from the Bergens, she worked with Peppy.

Won't continue with that.

Enjoys playfully bullying Suki because she's the only one who doesn't take it seriously.

Guy Diamond ◇

Oh man

Did NOT get enough attention as a kid

His parents were either too busy, and were both taken while running through the tunnels

Sky Toronto (From TBGO and Trollstopia) is his uncle, but neither of them know that

The only clothes he'd ever wear would be a scarf and leg warmers, maybe gloves.

Either he just dislikes it or he's genuinely afraid of it, he won't drink alcohol.

Secretly likes to eat things that aren't really edible

Also, scroll past this if you wanna because imma explain how it's not awkward that the glitter trolls are almost all naked.

So, since Glitter trolls are a subspecies, one which probably derived from a tribe long ago, their anatomy is a little different

They have protective slits that hide their genitals until needed

Essentially, the glitter trolls that have dicks.. their disks are hidden kn that slit, and will start to come out when said glitter troll is aroused.

For the one that don't, the slit will just start to open on it's own

Having a cock or not doesn't decide the gender of a Pop Troll, BTW!!

Cooper & Darnell

Darnell yassified him.

He ended up with silver tattoos on one arm, multiple silver bracelets, necklaces, and earrings, and silver dread cuffs

C & D spend a lot of time together

C had a hard time deciding, but ultimately chose to stay woth the Funk Tribe and his family rather than with the Pop Trolls

He stolll visits them <3

I'll make more later, dw.

[stillfrownyclownlol]

Oh nooooo somebody stole my Aidlyn/Ashden headcanons so now I have to write more ... ✨️

(SORRY IM SPAMMING THE TAG 😭😭😭)

Some of these are based on my dad because he has bpd and he really reminds me of Aiden.

-His sense of humor is so broken like. Probably makes "that's what she said" and "your mom" jokes. Ash thinks he is the unfunniest person alive 🤡 and she STILL laughs at him (but never when he's trying to be funny). I think he'd be on Vine a lot lmao. He would laugh at that video of the bread slice falling over no cap.

-Aiden Clark, Professional Doomscroller. Maybe an itty bitty bit addicted to social media cuz "omg easy dopamine hit" even if he doesn't post a lot. Would prolly be chronically on TikTok if he was a teen today 🤡 Ash WILL steal his phone and hide it so they can "do something productive" (which alternates between her trying to teach him basic life skills to him falling out of a tree because they went outside for five minutes)

-her parents also gave him a truly awful shovel talk. He came out of it, kneeled in front of her, and said if he broke her heart to kill him before her parents did 💖 Tyler and him bond about their "scary in laws", although he has a better relationship with Mike and Emma than Tyler does with Mary and James 🤡

-convinced her to go to prom because "free food" and managed to wrangle out a slow-dance from her. He already likes dancing, SHE likes dancing...he wants to dance together ^_^

-She really likes his normal smile, when he's not forcing it. He takes good care of his teeth, so he's got a real bright smile :)

-Aiden tried to teach her how to skateboard a few times. She can...stand on it without falling off and roll around, but no tricks lol. Ash still thinks it was just an excuse for him to grab her hands or waist while she was balancing.

-Some problems in the relationship: they are not very good at communicating how they feel, so there's a lot of misunderstandings between them unless the gang intervenes haha ":D Sometimes Ash feels very suffocated by him and she really dislikes his apathy towards himself, and Aiden sometimes feels like Ash doesn't care about him nearly as much as he cares about her.

-his depressive episodes alternate between "I'm just gonna lie here and hope I die" to "actively trying to self destruct", sometimes he might go on a binge (overdosing on his meds, and when he's older he might sometimes drink too much or go on really dangerous joy rides, he's an awful driver), they really freak Ash out :( Recovery is a very long road with no end destination. She's trying to get better at reassuring him and he's trying to...just get better.

-both of them suck at remembering their anniversary 🤡 Aiden is a littleeeee bit better

-They have a knife collection they share ❤️

-he has her as "love of my life 💖✨️😍" on his phone contacts and has a special ringtone for her and everything. Absolutely not embarrassed about it, Ash...definitely is 💀 (she has him as "Aiden")

-sends her really bad poetry he wrote for her because writing his feelings down by himself is easier than saying it in the moment. Ash keeps all of them in a shoebox in her closet.

-she's not really good with touching and stuff but she feels better touching him, like a good stim. Really likes holding his face (no eye contact). Also enjoys him holding her hand.

-Secretly a little insecure about how she looks. She has never really thought about it before because she never cared about it, but now, in a relationship, she's kinda self conscious about him perceiving (read: constantly staring) her. She's very short and thin (even with muscles from ballet and training) and feels like a "late bloomer." Aiden thinks she's the closest thing to physical perfection that exists and will tell her this constantly ^_^

-She actually likes how he smells (grâce à: his really expensive soap lmao) but she would die before telling him lol

-The first time she kissed him her brain kinda shut off and she just squished their faces together while puffing her cheeks up. He bust out laughing and completely murdered the mood 💀 They'll figure it out...eventually

[ethel-cyanide]

dead bread redemption (picking the mould off a stale bloomer loaf)

[askwhatsforlunch]

Nettle and Green Onion Rarebit (Vegetarian)

After a few hours spent gardening, sowing, planting, weeding and tilling, how satisfying to return in the kitchen with freshly dug go, and freshly snipped (very carefully, with gloves!) nettle. These Nettle and Green Onion Rarebit, inspired from a recipe in this month's Simple Things, make the harvest all the more delicious! Happy Thursday!

Ingredients (makes 4 slices):

a large Green Onion

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 tablespoons plain flour

1 cup semi-skimmed milk

a pinch of fleur de sel or sea salt flakes and freshly cracked black pepper

nutmeg

Mature English Cheddar

4 small slices White Bloomer Bread

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

1 cup freshly picked nettles (wearing gloves), leaves removed from the stalks and thoroughly washed under cold water (wearing rubber gloves!)

Preheat oven to 250°C/480°F.

Finely chop Green Onion.

Melt butter in a medium saucepan over a medium flame. Once butter is just foaming, add chopped Green Onion, and cook, a couple of minutes.

Sprinkle in the flour. Give a good stir, and cook out, 1 minute.

Remove from the heat, and gradually stir in the milk, to prevent lumps, so the mixture is smooth and loose. Return over medium heat, and cook, stirring constantly until the sauce thickens. Once the béchamel thickens, season with fleur de sel and black pepper. Grate in about 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg. Then, grate in 1/3 cup Mature English Cheddar. Give a good stir until melted. Remove from the heat.

Place White Bloomer Bread slices onto a pizza pan, and place in the middle of the hot oven. Toast, at 250°C/480°F, 4 minutes.

Melt butter in a small frying pan over medium-high heat. Once the butter is just foaming, add the nettle leaves, and sauté, a couple of minutes until wilted. Transfer to a chopping board, and chop finely. Stir nettle leaves into the cheesy béchamel.

Flip White Bloomer Bread slices on their other side, and spoon cheesy nettle and green onion béchamel onto each slice. Grate a little more Cheddar on top and return to the hot oven. Bake, at 250°C/480°F, 3 to 4 minutes, until bubbly.

Sprinkle Nettle and Green Onion Rarebit with chopped green part of the Green Onion, and serve immediately, with a glass of chilled white wine, like Chardonnay or Sauvignon Blanc.

[jewreallythinkthat]

Never have and never will eat a bagel. But that’s also just known as bread. Not a crazy creation. There is no such thing as isr **li traditions because it hasn’t been around long enough. Jewish and isr**li are not interchangeable.

Nice to know I live in your head rent free 🤣

Bagels aren't just bread, there's a whole ass extra process that's included which is has a whole host of interesting scientific effects that changes them from "just bread". Are bagels a type of bread? Yes. In the same way focaccia is a type of bread, or brioche, or challah, or a white bloomer from the shop. Different recipes come from different places, and there are literal historical explanations as to why Jews started boiling their bread before baking which makes it significantly different to just a roll with a hole.

Israel has been around in one form or another for literally thousands of years, there are literally Egyptian hieroglyphics which refer to "yisrael" as a nation. Jewish traditions and festivals are literally based around seasons in Israel.

Israeli culture is a fascinating case study in how traditions and culture develop on a measurable scale. There have been multiple generations since Israel was ratified as a country by the UN. This is plenty of time for culture to blend and traditions to develop. It's a melting pot of traditions and foods eaten by Jewish communities around the world, from the Levant, to north Africa and Europe (among others).

You're right, Jewish and Israeli are not interchangable because Israeli is a nationality and Jewish is an ethnicity (along with a religion). That doesn't change the fact that as a majority Jewish state, Israeli culture and tradition is heavily influenced by Jewish ones, and visa versa - Jewish culture around the world can be found in Israel.

Lots of levantine cultures and countries have the same food traditions because it's what is ✨naturally available✨ there, and the foods developed before modern boarders. So it makes sense Israeli food reflects the food of the region as mizrahi Jews make up the largest sub-group within the country and as they moved there after being forced out of Arab lands (I'll get onto your other message and debunk that one in a minute), they took their food with them. Or should people leave their entire identity behind? Should Chinese people in the UK not eat Chinese food? Or maybe any Indian or Bangladeshi immigrants to the US should never touch Indian and Bangladeshi food again?

[tobiasdrake]

I've talked about this in other places but y'all I need you to understand what a brilliant name "Pan" is for Goku's grandkid. Like. Holy shit.

So, let's talk about Goku for a moment. The name Son Goku is the Japanese version of Sun Wukong, the Monkey King. As is well known, Dragon Ball draws its roots from Journey to the West, with Goku and Bulma filling the roles of Sun Wukong and (very ironically) the monk Tripitaka.

Japanese being a very complex language, the kanji of Goku's name can be read in multiple ways. The most significant being "To perceive the sky", building off the key symbol "Go" which stands for a heightened sense of awareness or understanding.

The names of Goku's family are all centered around Go. It's also, specifically, the kanji he wears on his dogi from his arrival on Namek forward.

Gohan, on the other hand, is a funny joke playing off of Goku. "Gohan" is food. It can be used to refer to a meal entirely, but it specifically means "rice". Or, if you want to be spicy with Goku's name meaning, "To perceive the rice", since the rice portion is specifically "han".

There's no shortages of gags about Gohan's name throughout Dragon Ball. My personal favorite comes from Cooler's Revenge. Goku comes across Cooler's minions at what was supposed to be a fun camping trip, one restraining his son and the other eating from the protags' cookpot. He demands that they "Put down my Gohan!" at which point the one evil minion tosses aside the pot of rice.

So that's Gohan. On the other side, we have his wife, Videl.

Toriyama groups characters by puns. Bulma (Bloomers) is the daughter of Briefs and the mother of Trunks and Bra. She also has a sister named Tights.

In the Cell arc, we're introduced to Mr. Satan. Can you guess? Can you guess what his daughter Videl's name is an anagram of?

So. Here we have these two characters, Cooked Rice and the Devil, who have a child together. What do you name that kid? Whose naming theme do you follow?

Well. Why not both? "Pan" is the Japanese word for "bread", following theme from "rice". It's also the name of a satyr from Greek mythology, whose iconography inspired the goat-legged and cloven hooved imagery commonly associated with Satan in Christian mythology.

That's fucking brilliant. It makes me sad when people take Dragon Ball too seriously 'cause Toriyama's out here doing pun calculus for his silly characters and their goofy names.

EDIT: I kinda thought this would just get a couple likes and be forgotten but if people are going to keep reblogging this then I need to correct a boneheaded mistake I made.

[rose-of-the-underworld]

What are your favorite shoujo shows? I just started watching anime and would love recommendations.

AAAAAAAAAAAA! First of all, I'm sorry that this took two months to write up, but I am honestly touched that you asked me! Okay, so disclaimer that I wasn't deep into the anime scene until a few years ago (I'm a late bloomer), but shoujo is my bread and butter so to speak, so I'm happy to give some reccs! Note that this isn't ranked in any particular order, it's just as they come to me! Will give a summary and my thoughts on each. Also, most of these anime don't cover the entirety of the story published in their corresponding manga, but they're all a good starting point if you want to dive into reading the rest!

Putting under a read more because I'm more long-winded than I thought I would be

1.) Sailor Moon: The magical action-adventures of a teenage girl who learns of her destiny as the legendary warrior Sailor Moon and must band together with the other Sailor Scouts to defend the Earth and Galaxy.

Had to start with the original!! Now my love for Sailor Moon goes back to before I knew what anime even was. I caught wind of it when I was five years old and it was airing on TV for the first time, but I adored the show and my Princess Serenity doll. Now, please note that I really did not absorb much outside of the aesthetics and the insane dialogue of the 90s English dub before it stopped airing on tv and I forgot about it for a while, always meaning to get back into it, but never quite managing. Then during 2020 lockdown, my good friend and Sailor Moon expert @pollyannaisms started streaming little watch parties of Sailor Moon Crystal and boy did I fall in love all over again. I'm so happy that it came back into my life when I needed it most, tbh. It really is such a hopeful and optimistic series with some of the most lovely female friendships, one of the most beautiful and romantic love stories I've ever seen, and wonderful messages about loving yourself.

If you want a more streamlined plot with less episodes, I recommend starting with Sailor Moon Crystal since it follows the manga very closely and it's relatively short. 39 episodes across three seasons and then four movies - Sailor Moon Eternal parts 1&2 and Sailor Moon Cosmos part 1&2. Cosmos is FINALLY being released internationally on August 24th and I can't wait to finally see it, I've been rotting for it.

Now, the original 90s anime is also fantastic, it is just incredibly long with I believe 200 episodes and a few movies. It was airing as Naoko Takeuchi was publishing the manga so there's a lot of filler and the monster of the week format can get a little monotonous if you're trying to binge. I would say to take your time with it, but I do believe it's worth the watch because you get some wonderful character development episodes that are absent from Crystal. It's not perfect and there are some....odd choices made, but I do love it. Please note, that if you watch it in English through official streaming services, you'll be seeing a re-dub that Viz did with the Crystal cast when they bought the rights. It's a good dub! But man, I wish I could watch the original 90s English dub more easily (pirating such a long series is kind of an ordeal) because it has some of the funniest dialogue I've ever heard. Lots of people hate it, but I love the nostalgia factor and I personally find it hilarious.

2.) Ouran High School Host Club: Haruhi Fujioka is a studious girl who has recently enrolled at the prestigious Ouran Academy. One day, while looking for a quiet and peaceful place to study, she stumbles across a seemingly unused music room. Upon entering, Haruhi is welcomed by the members of the well-known Host Club: a club in which attractive boys amuse girls from across the entire school. However, when Tamaki Suoh—the founder and president of the club—startles the bright scholarship student, she accidentally breaks an expensive vase.

With repayment looking difficult for Haruhi, the Host Club members come up with the perfect solution to the girl's problem: work for the club and ultimately become a Host herself! Mistaken for a boy by her peers, Haruhi has to entertain various female students while coping with her fellow Hosts' extravagant personalities.

Ouran was the first anime that I ever watched on purpose at age 17, and it is very near and dear to my heart. It does come with some caveats, though. While this was the perfect starter anime for me (the friend who recc'd it knows me very well), it's not a good starter anime for everyone. It is incredibly over the top and is also a parody anime of shoujo romances, so some of the jokes might not land if you're a newbie. While I loved it at first viewing, I found it MUCH funnier when I rewatched it ten years later after having seen much more shoujo anime. Also, please note that Ouran aired in 2006, and while it was very progressive for the early 2000s, there is a lot of outdated terminology when it comes to LGBT topics, so tread with care and know that its heart was in the right place and we've come a long way in the last 20 years.

That being said, this series will always be one of my favorites. Aside from being insanely hilarious (and wildly out of pocket), the show has a lot of heart and characters who all genuinely love each other. It touches on feminism and gender and I credit it with making me bisexual.

3.) Fruits Basket: After a family tragedy turns her life upside down, high schooler Tohru Honda takes matters into her own hands and moves out...into a tent. Unfortunately for her, she pitches her new home on private land belonging to the mysterious Sohma clan, and it isn't long before the owners discover her secret. But, as Tohru quickly finds out when the family offers to take her in, the Sohmas have a secret of their own--when hugged by the opposite sex, they turn into the animals of the Chinese Zodiac.

God. Fruits Basket is everything to me. This was the second anime I ever watched on purpose, recc'd by the same friend who showed me Ouran. She lent me her DVDs of the 2001 anime adaptation when I was 18 and it took me a few months to actually watch it but MAN. When I tell you that I was crying during the finale with my 8 week old kitten on my chest, and then when the 2019 reboot aired their version of the season finale, I was crying AGAIN with the same cat who was at that point 14 lbs and still snuggling on my chest. Full circle. It will never not be good. I would absolutely recommend that you watch the 2019 reboot over the 2001 version because it encompasses the whole story and has the budget for a much higher quality production. The animation is beautiful and I really like the music. The storytelling is phenomenal, thank you, Natsuki Takaya for my life.

Tohru Honda is truly one of my favorite characters of all time. There is so much depth to her, so much kindness and sadness and a heart full of love. She changes the lives of everyone she meets by just loving them unconditionally and has a legion of friends who would do anything for her. This is another story that features the struggle to love yourself, but it is also about the struggle to let others love you as well. The main romance is another top tier love story for me, and all of the side romances are compelling as well. I will warn you that the series deals heavily with familial abuse and with grief. For every laugh and heartwarming moment, there is a punch to the gut right around the corner. But god, it's worth it in the end. Fruits Basket is full of bittersweet moments of catharsis and it never fails to make me insane (affectionate). Fantastic characters and an excellent plot, it's one of the most compelling series I've ever seen.

4.) Kimi Ni Todoke: Sawako Kuronuma has had a difficult time fitting in, due to her shy nature and her similarity in name and appearance to Sadako from The Ring. On her first day of high school, Sawako meets the one boy who treats her like a normal girl-Shota Kazehaya. Through his selfless aid, Sawako slowly learns to come out of her shell and even begins to make friends for the first time in her life. However, with a new social life come social pressures. As she grows into her new identity, Sawako must learn to deal with such pressures as well as start to understand the unfamiliar feelings inside of her, especially in regards to the boy who made her new start possible.

This is probably THEEEEE sweetest thing I've ever seen. I watched it for the first time last year and I was legitimately crying happy tears in episode 1. If this is your first time watching, you're in luck! Season 3 just premiered after a 13 year hiatus! I've only watched an episode and a half so far, and I already love it so much. It has the exact same energy as the first two seasons. Sawako and Kazehaya are too adorable for words, and Sawako's two best friends are wonderful. This series does a great job of handling the real struggles of adolescents while also being full of optimism and love of all sorts.

5.) Kamisama Kiss: newly homeless teenager Nanami Momozono is trying to figure out her next move when she helps a stranger in need. Out of gratitude, he offers Nanami his home, a rundown shrine, and also his job as a land god. Now, Nanami must juggle high school along with the duties of a deity with the help of Tomoe, a reformed fox demon who reluctantly becomes her familiar in a contract sealed with a kiss. As the headstrong Tomoe tries to whip her into shape, Nanami finds that love just might have cute, pointed fox ears. With romance in the air, will the human deity be able to prove herself worthy of her new title?

This series made me CRAZY!!!!!!! Nanami and Tomoe are such a good nuisances to lovers story with a really interesting twist that I genuinely did not see coming! Nanami is adorable and Tomoe is the perfect house husband, I love them so much. This series is such a fun little romp through the supernatural world of gods, demons, and spirits, with an incredibly interesting cast of characters. The anime has two seasons and a few OVAs, but in order to see the latter, you're going to have to search the less than legal sites because they were never licensed internationally. Definitely worth it in my opinion to see the end of the story.

6.) Yona of the Dawn: Sheltered and spoiled Princess Yona is the only heir to the throne of Kouka. Yona's perfect world comes crashing down when a heinous act of treason threatens to erase all that she holds dear, including her birthright as the princess of Kouka. Left with no one to trust but her childhood friend and loyal bodyguard Son Hak, she is forced to flee the palace. Faced with the perils of surviving in the wild with a target on her back, Yona realizes that her kingdom is no longer the safe haven it once was.

Free from the shackles of naivety, Yona vows to do everything in her power to become strong enough to crush her enemies. With Hak by her side, she must piece together the remains of an ancient legend that might be the key to reclaiming her kingdom from those who conspired to steal it from her.

THIS SERIES MADE ME CRAZY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yona of the Dawn honestly ticks all of my boxes -- sheltered princess who needs to learn how to fight, political intrigue, betrayal, heartbreak, ancient magical legends, and a princess/bodyguard romance. The anime (and OVAs) are only a very small part of the story, but it was excellent regardless. The manga is incredibly long and actually just celebrated its 15th anniversary; it's regarded one of the greatest shoujo manga of all time. I had started reading the manga a few years back, and I REALLY need to get back into it, especially since it seems to be inching closer to the end. But if you love action packed fantasy adventures, this is the story for you!

7.) Inuyasha*: Suddenly finding herself in feudal Japan, schoolgirl Kagome teams up with half-demon Inuyasha to retrieve the scattered shards of a sacred jewel.

*Technically, a shounen, but has the vibes of a shoujo. I need you to know that last year when I had covid, I watched 50 episodes of this series and the first movie. And then I was compelled to make the following image:

Inuyasha is a long one so I suggest pacing yourself, but it is so so worth it! This is another action packed fantasy series with awesome characters, fantastic writing, and a heart stopping romance. The creator, Rumiko Takahashi was already an experienced mangaka when she made Inuyasha, and it shows. She's excellent at naturally weaving the romance into the overarching narrative and there's a maturity to her writing that makes this story about young people feel so intense and complex in the best way.

8.) Maid-Sama!: Misaki is class president of a formerly all-male school. A beacon of hope to the female students as well as teachers, she rules over the boys with an iron fist and a heart of ice. A popular male student stumbles on to her secret double life- working part-time as an upbeat and cheery waitress at a maid cafe! Misaki is forced to make a deal: spend some time with him, or have her hard earned reputation destroyed by revealing her embarrassing secret.

I will warn you, there are elements to this anime that have not aged well since its airing in 2010. A lot of it is very feminist in that early 2000s way! But it also includes that early 2000s brand of "problematic" possessive (and maybe a little too inappropriate) love interest and some outdated romance anime tropes. But all in all, I think it's worth a view. I really love Misaki as a character so much, and her relationship with Usui is fun and frustrating and very, very sweet.

9.) My Love Story!!: With his muscular build and tall stature, Takeo Gouda is no ordinary high school freshman. However, behind Takeo's intimidating appearance lies a pure heart of gold. Unfortunately for Takeo, his appearance does not bode well for his love life. As if his looks were not already enough to scare girls away, Takeo's cool, handsome best friend and constant companion Makoto Sunakawa easily, and unintentionally, steals the hearts of the female students—including every girl Takeo has ever liked.

One day, when Takeo saves cute Rinko Yamato from a creep on the train, he falls in love with her instantly. But with handsome Sunakawa around, does Takeo even stand a chance?

It's rare to see a shoujo series with a male protagonist, but Takeo is honestly perfect for the role and deserves everything good in the world. This is such an adorable anime with the sweetest couple on Earth and the best friend that anyone could ever ask for. Takeo and Rinko are both down so bad for each other and they're both adorable, awkward clowns. They were truly meant to be! Takeo's friendship with Sunakawa is also such a vital and lovely part of the series and shows that your platonic relationships are just as important as your romantic ones.

10.) My Little Monster: Shizuku Mizutani is apathetic toward her classmates, only caring about her grades. However, her cold view of life begins to change when she meets Haru Yoshida, a violent troublemaker who stopped attending class after getting into a fight early in the school year. He is not much different from her, though—he too understands little about human nature and does not have any friends. Much to Shizuku's surprise, he proclaims that she will be his friend and immediately confesses his feelings toward her upon meeting her.

Because of her lack of friends and social interaction, Shizuku has a hard time understanding her relationship with Haru. But slowly, their friendship begins to progress, and she discovers that there is more to Haru than violence. She begins to develop feelings for him, but is unsure what kind of emotions she is experiencing. Together, Shizuku and Haru explore the true nature of their relationship and emotions.

This is a story about a boy and a girl who struggle with love and friendship. Opening yourself up to other people forces you to be honest with yourself.

Here's another "problematique" anime that I fell head over heels in love with in spite of certain things that didn't age well. I'm a simple woman, give me a cold girl and a feral boy who are obsessed with each other and don't know how to function in society and I'm sold. While Shizuku and Haru's bizarre, never-on-the-same-page romance is the overarching narrative, an important part of the series is the two of them learning how to make friends and find community with other socially dysfunctional weirdos. The friends that they make are just as interesting as the two of them and are equally important to the story.

This is another series that I highly recommend reading the manga for, since the one season anime doesn't get far enough into the story for a satisfying ending. Shizuku's revelations about herself and her character development in the manga genuinely made me cry, and Haru gets some good development as well. Their relationship progresses in a very sweet way as they work to understand each other and respect boundaries and communicate.

11.) Monthly Girls' Nozaki-kun:

Chiyo Sakura is a cheerful high school girl who has fallen head over heels for the oblivious Umetarou Nozaki. Much to Chiyo's confusion, when she confesses to her beloved Nozaki, he hands her an unfamiliar autograph. As it turns out, the stoic teenage boy is actually a respected shoujo manga artist, publishing under a pen name. A series of misunderstandings leads to Chiyo becoming one of Nozaki's manga assistants and befriending many of her quirky schoolmates. This slice of life comedy follows Chiyo as she strives to help Nozaki with his manga and hopes that he will eventually notice her feelings.

I adore this series to the moon and back. Both adorable and absolutely HILARIOUS, Monthly Girls' Nozaki-kun, is a wild ride from start to finish. The slow burn to end all slow burns, this ongoing 4-panel, slice of life manga has been ongoing since 2011, yet remains hilarious and so does the one season anime. This is another parody shoujo anime where some jokes might go over your head if you're a beginner, but I think it's easier to digest than Ouran, and would be a fine starter anime. This is another clown4clown romance, but Chiyo and Nozaki aren't the only ones. Their friends are a vibrant cast of characters who tend to fall into classic shoujo manga tropes (though not always in the ways you'd expect) and all have their own incredibly silly and off the wall will-they-won't-they romances.

This is such a fun series that never fails to make me laugh, and often makes me swoon. It's both ridiculous and relatable and you can't help but root for every single character.

And I'll end it there! I have quite a few other series that are near and dear to my heart but these are probably the ones I talk about the most. If you've made it this far, thank you for reading. Anon, I hope that you enjoy your adventures in shoujo anime!

If anyone ever wants to talk about any of these series, my inbox is always open. Seriously, I am always dying to talk about all of these!

[chefgerardmolloy]

📢 “Beginners Bread Bakery” New Cookery Class @thekitchenatcg @chewtonglen 📸 Guineas & Treacle Irish 🇮🇪 Wheaten Bread. 📸 Confit Garlic & Garden Rosemary Italian🇮🇹 Focaccia Bread. 📸 Soft English 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 White Bloomer Bread 🥖 Loaf. 📸 Rustic Floured Farmhouse Sesame Dinner Bread 🥯 Rolls. #bread #baking #wheaten #focaccia #bloomer #dough #beginners #cookeryschools #cookingclass #bakersofinstagram #fresh #chef #cheflife #thekitchenatcg #chewtonglen #learn #funtimes #delicious #tasty #food #foodie #lovefood #eat #bake #impressive #mustdo #bakeoff (at The Kitchen at Chewton Glen) https://www.instagram.com/p/CnuLIs7I8zE/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[batesmotelofficial]

{ Historical AU sorry }*She hoisted herself up the stone steps from the Inn to the house, she was wearing her dark brown bloomer pants and her dark red blouse and coat. She huffed as she went into the house turning right into the kitchen moving the soup off the stove as she set the bread he wanted to get onto the counter. She went around looking for him but sadly couldn't find him at all, she flinched as the two commanding officers knocked on the door, she dreaded answering them and opened it*Yes?*She murmured*‘ Is there a Mister Bates here? He had been commanded to serve in the Massachusetts Militia from November 25th, to January 11th ‘*They stated in a sharp tone, that demanded respect*

*Norman had been missing from home for a while. He was only 22, a point where he wasn't ready to serve in a full-time army... He was horrified and more than likely wouldn't come back until they had left entirely. Sure, it might get him some jail time, but at least he didn't have to be worried about getting killed immediately...*