#brothely feels

[thesoftestcowboy]

German* food poll but we have meatless options

A while ago everyone did those regional food polls and i wanted to do one back then but forgot... anyway. If you don't eat meat the options can be very limited in (traditional) restaurants around here. I wanted to do one with dishes that don't typically contain meat or can at least be easily adapted. Also yes this is kind of based on both my personal tastes and experiences so it's biased towards southern food, lmao. If you're vegan please just pretend it's a vegan version it's almost impossible to find options otherwise

*yes some of these are technically considered to be from Austria or France but they're still incredibly common in the regions near the border.

[aturnoftheearth]

i’ve been binge watching this youtuber (dollar tree dinners) and she is so sweet and creative and her videos are so entertaining and they give me so many ideas for recipes but also like?? general inspiration to find new ways to make something out of nothing?? anyway i had nothing set to cook for dinner bc we’re really towards the end of the grocery run and now im managing to make chicken pot pie thank you rebecca dollar tree dinners i adore u

[hyunpic]

BITCH WTF

[dirtytransmasc]

screaming and crying over Spider and Neteyam and Fable;

When I lifted his urn Divinity says, "Destiny can't be earned or returned" I feel when I question, my skin starts to burn Why does my skin start to burn? Capital loss Love was the law and religion was taught, I'm not bought Feel when we argue, our skin starts to rot Our skin starts to rot

So, share me your plan If I implore you, could I be your lamb? Understand I look for the truth in the back of your hand, and I Look into the open sky Stars blink like my brother's eyes Stars blink like my brother's eyes Stars blink like his eyes Like his eyes I dream of eternal life

Spider grieving the death of the baby brother he failed. he never pushed him away, he clung to him, he clung so hard, even if he did so quietly, because that was his first brother, his baby brother, in a way that Lo'ak was not (because first and younger are different. they matter the exact same, he could never have a favorite, but it's different in a way there are no words for). Neteyam could push and push and he'd still watch over him and love him and worry over him.

When I lifted his urn Divinity says, "Destiny can't be earned or returned"

Spider holding his baby brother one last time, even if he just sneaks into the mauri holding the dead, because he otherwise does not belong, scooping his head into his hands to kiss his forehead and whisper a goodbye and tell him he always loved him no matter what and that he's sorry. he's so sorry.

in that moment he realizes that their fate has come to end. they were always doomed. to be brothers. to fall apart. to never get a second chance. that no amount of goodness— because his baby brother was good. flawed. that's not even the right word, too harsh. he could call him flawed. no. no he was a child stumbling through life, a hard life, blindly. but he was good. always. always —could have given them a better fate.

I feel when I question, my skin starts to burn Why does my skin start to burn?

a flashback to Neteyam. maybe a memory in Eywa, when the soul of a boy who died too young with too many regrets and dreams and things to fix breaks through the idea of paradise, of peace and rest, of closure, and instead falls onto his brother.

the one he abandoned.

onto whispers— demon. he should be with his own kind. it is unbecoming of you. you need to be a warrior, Neteyam, not running of with him. he will only become his father. his blood bears his sins —that plagued him.

shame blisters his skin. it hurts. it aches. he turned his brother away over whispers? he hurt him over whispers? he put them both through so much pain over whispers?

it had always burned. the feeling was familiar. so familiar. every time he looked back to him and considered taking his hand or curling into his arms or falling into his lap, like old times, questioning why he had ever left this behind... it burned.

why did it burn? he used to think. and now he knows. shame. it was shame.

Capital loss Love was the law and religion was taught, I'm not bought

death. death and blood. death and blood and pain and...

words left unsaid.

clinging apologies.

pleading— take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. please I'm begging you —words wanting to spill out at freely as the blood on the rocks

none of it was worth it.

love should have always come before hate.

hate was taught.

they only fell apart when they were old enough to understand what hate was.

when Neteyam was old enough to understand he should— according to his mother and his people and his clan and all the weight on his shoulders —hate his brother.

when Spider was old enough to realize no one but his brothers- brother and sisters liked him. liked him enough to fight for him. in their childish ways.

none of it should have been.

had there been love, maybe Neteyam would still be living and breathing. maybe it would have changed their fate.

Feel when we argue, our skin starts to rot Our skin starts to rot

another flash. the final fall out. a blow up.

desperate pleading once more.

Neteyam begging his brother to leave him alone, because he cannot keep pushing. it is breaking him. but he can't— he is not allowed to have him.

Spider finally breaking under the weight. he cannot keep doing this.

but as they walk away, nausea eats them away.

Neteyam will cling to each second he can pretend things were as they used to be.

Spider will watch silently.

they are dying.

long before their deaths; the death of a body, the death of a heart and mind.

they are dying.

they are rotting.

fading away

So, share me your plan If I implore you, could I be your lamb? Understand

Spider seeking out the Great Mother. offering himself a sacrifice. forever the lamb.

he did it long before now. before Neteyam was gone. when the war came. when the war parties went out. when Neteyam joined them. when he came back bloodied and bruised.

What is your plan? do you see blood? will take my blood instead of his? I will bare my neck, just leave my brother unharmed. please I beg. I beg.

he asked again when he was taken.

take mine, not his.

because Neteyam might have been a warrior, but he was also his baby brother, and he would always bleed first. he would bleed the blood that tore them apart to begin with.

and now he asks again, still trying to scrape his brother's blood from his nails.

why couldn't you do this one thing for me? why couldn't you let him live? why couldn't you take this hated blood? why could I be your lamb?

I look for the truth in the back of your hand, and I look into the open sky

Spider holding his baby brother's hand. again and again and again. growjng older, larger, wider, tougher each time.

holding it one last time.

tracing where stars should be.

they aren't there.

neither are the answers.

he looks up.

Stars blink like my brother's eyes

he wishes his brother would just open his eyes. that he would see that childish brightness—

hope and love and light and blissful naivety. unknowing of hate

—once more. just one last time.

the stars hold that light.

Stars blink like my brother's eyes

tears prick his eyes once more.

there are more stars in the sky than there ever were on his skin.

more light than there was in a lifetime of watching his eyes.

they had gone so cold and tired so fast, just like his shoulders.

Stars blink like his eyes

he stares up at the stars and cries.

Like his eyes

he wants his baby brother back.

he just wants him back.

he'd give anything.

I dream of eternal life

Spider prays for his brother's peace in Eywa.

Neteyam plays in the creek with his brother, a wide smile on his face.

[yardsards]

so many meals can be bolstered by just throwing a handful of frozen spinach in there while you cook it. scrambled eggs? add some spinach. ramen? add some spinach. mac and cheese? add some spinach, baby!

[cozybearz]

homemade broth and the chicken n dumplings i made with it :^)

[pantry-rats]

mother brought me stew

thank god

[sourseat]

today 3 friends came over and we weeded our garden and tidied the path and mowed the lawn and swept up the autumn leaves and scooped the dank leaves and moss out of the weird broken fountain thing. and my housemate and i cooked them a big dinner to say thank you (pesto pasta with roast sweet potato, tomato and broccolini + garlic bread). and it was really nice.

[skunkes]

some months ago I saw someone talking about how the default csp pen pressure settings were probably doing more harm than good for some people who use csp (since everyone has different preferences), so I went to the setting that automatically adjusts it for you upon making a few varied lines

But the thing is I've never understood like. Settings based on Curve on an x and y axis like pen pressure ones LOL so um guess who found out yesterday that their adjusted settings were actually making it so that he had to press down even harder on his tablet to get line variation...after a few on and off months of newfound wrist pain.....

[unopenablebox]

Too Much Tea

[shiawasekai]

Idk how this works, but 4,18,28 please

Hello, thank you. It's perfect like this! From this ask game

4. What did they do before they became a crusader? Did they have a job, an occupation?

Answered here!

18. If they survived, what is their life post crusade?

Nela survives the Crusades, staying in Drezen as its governor. To put it in few words: she has nowhere else to go anyway, and despite the many struggles and the growing mental health issues she also feels fulfilled by the job and has a talent for it. She has grown attached to the place and its people, it's where she belongs now that her home is gone.

That's... not as positive a choice as it may sound.

The first few months after the Crusades are won, Nela remains busy. However, as soon as Drezen and Mendev start to settle in, the companions go on their respective ways and the workload goes down... she crashes and goes on a downward spiral.

All the mental issues and trauma she had shouldered by playing the part of the perfect Commander start to appear, and she declines fast. Any attempt to help is pointless. She doesn't want to talk about the actual sources of her issues, so there is no way for anyone to intervene. It gets bad, really bad. She starts to self-harm a few months in.

It's only thanks to Sosiel's intervention that the situation gets solved before it can reach a critical point. Sosiel and Nela share a homeland, both coming from Carpenden, Andoran. He knows her relatives, enough to have mostly figured out by himself what's truly going on and approaching her brother, now an elder man in his 90s, with the full story. A way to return the favor, so to speak.

Samel, Nela's brother, ends up rushing to Drezen to meet up with Nela. Having a part of her family, her old world, back is a massive relief, but it's as much of a relief to have someone she can afford to be fully honest with. She doesn't have to fear hurting him with her feelings and thoughts, or to show weakness to the wrong person as someone in a position of authority. It doesn't magically make it all better, but it gets her started.

She ends up retiring from Drezen for about half a year to get some rest and work out her issues, moving to one of Daeran's properties closer to Nerosyan. Anevia and Irabeth contact her from time to time for bigger decisions, but she is mostly left to rest and recover.

It takes her years before she works out through it all. It's never fully gone, but she is finally comfortable in her own skin and at peace with how her life turned out. She remains just a governor, stubbornly refusing getting any more political power and making an effort to discourage anything that may push her beyond the edge onto divinity.

She also remains in contact with the Hand of the Inheritor and her fellow angels companions. From time to time, she goes on escapades to help them out in other planes. The rest of her time and effort is spent in helping out with purifying the Worldwound and providing aid to the efforts of the Sarkorians, druids and other followers of the Green Faith.

Daeran and her only marry once the worst of her own issues have passed, about 2 years after the Crusades have ended.

28. Would they be a companion instead of the KC? What would their storyline and personal quest be?

Answered here!

[whump-it-like-its-hot]

Idea! Make your Whumpee sick, and then make them completely unable to sleep <3

Give them a murdering headache, fever, chills, pain everywhere, and then take away their ability to sleep it all off. They close their eyes, hope so desperately to make time go faster, but when they open their eyes again, barely 10 minutes have passed.

[thebluestbluewords]

I'm Not Scared of What You're Gonna Tell Me

(~2k, Jaylos, TW for food issues/isle related food restriction. Seriously. This one is a little heavier than I usually write for tumblr.)

+

“When did you last eat?” 

Carlos pulls himself out of the schematic he’d been mentally working on. It’s easier to focus on certain things (like the problem of where to put the extra wire in the blender he’s trying to reconstruct) when he’s got something to do with his hands, and even easier still to get absorbed in the mental work when he’s got someone there to watch his back. “What?” 

Jay makes a soft noise. He’s perching on the windowsill again, but at least he’s on the outside this time. It’s not that anyone in Hell Hall is going to come into the kitchen, but it’s safer to have an easy escape route. The last time he came inside they had to jam him into the kitchen closet when Jasper unexpectedly poked his head into the kitchen, and while the closet is great for storing things like the occasional rusty canned goods and unrotten potatoes they get sent over from the mainland, it’s not a great place for a human person to hide in, and the amount of dirt they had to try and clean up wasn’t worth the small increase in comfort that Jay gets from sitting inside the window rather than on the sill outside. “You’re always in here,” he says casually. “but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat anything you make. When did you last eat?” 

There’s a pile of walnuts sitting on the countertop, next to the cutting board. Carlos reaches over with his left hand and picks up a single broken nut. He pops it in his mouth. It’s small enough that it won’t be missed from the sauce. “Right now.”  

“Doesn’t count. C’mon.” 

Carlos gestures down at the fully loaded cutting board he’s still working with. At the bubbling pot he’s got sitting on the stove. At the unmentioned presence of his mother in the next room, drinking herself to death and waiting for her nonexistent servants to bring out dinner to her and the guests, who also don’t exist and probably wouldn’t want to stay for dinner regardless. The Isle is a bit lacking in ingredients, and tomato-walnut soup isn’t exactly the level of fine dining that Cruella’s high-society patrons would have been used to had they ever existed, much less now, when they definitely don’t and likely won’t ever exist again. 

Still. Even without servants, without ingredients, and without a hope of ever getting off the Isle of the Lost again, dinner must be served.  “I can’t leave,” Carlos explains patiently. “I have to be here until dinner’s done.” 

Jay rolls his eyes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “C’mon outside for one minute. She won’t notice, I promise.” 

She will. She has before, even just for a moment, even when it’s just a second of fresh air because the smoke inside the house is making his lungs close up again. “She will.” 

Jay shifts again, restlessly. His is a body meant to be in motion. He’s not built for sitting still and watching like this, but he keeps coming by to do it despite the fact that he’s definitely got more interesting things to do with his night. It’s weirdly sweet of him to keep coming by just to sit on the windowsill and keep Carlos company while he attempts to scrape something together to feed his mother and her minions, but it’s also wholly unnecessary, and they both know it. “What if you just hop out here for a sec? No door opening and closing means no problem with the noise, right?” Jay offers, hopefully. 

“She’ll notice if the noise in here stops. I can’t leave until this is done–” Carlos gestures with his chin towards the pot bubbling on the stove, not stopping the smooth chopping motion he’s been practicing since he was probably too young to hold a knife. Red juice drips down the sides of his hands, coating them in the sticky mess that he’s going to have to wash off the cutting board and the entire counter later. Jay would probably lick it off, if Carlos would let him. “And she’s eaten and left me the dishes to clean. I can maybe steal a few minutes while I’m supposed to be washing up, but nothing before that.” 

Jay whistles through his teeth, the sound low and impressed. Or maybe not. Villains are villains no matter where they are, and just because Cruella has a house to maintain doesn’t actually make her worse than any of the other adults on the isle. “Damn. Tight leash much?” 

“You know it. So, you gonna stick around for…” Carlos hesitates. At least another forty minutes for the soup to be done, and then twenty minutes of coaxing his mother to put down her drink and actually eat, and then dinner and cleanup after that. “At least an hour and a half until I’m done?” 

Jay nods. “So long as you promise me you’ll eat something after that.” 

It’s one of the easiest promises that Carlos has ever made. “Sure thing. I’ll meet you in the treehouse once I’m done here.  I’ve got food in there that my mom doesn’t even know about, and it’s not even moldy this time.” 

“Sure,” Jay echoes back. There’s a weird furrow between his eyes that’s not usually there. “You have food up there?” 

“Yeah, I just said that.” Carlos says, letting a hint of the irritation he’s feeling bleed into his voice. He’s tired, and hungry, and the smell of the tomato soup is making his stomach ache. “What else do I need to repeat? Hour and a half, treehouse, we’ll both be there. You can hang out down here until then, but I can’t give you anything from the kitchen tonight, I’m sorry. There’s barely enough for my mom and her henchmen as it is, and if we take anything she’s going to notice and have my hide for it.” 

“I didn’t ask for anything,” Jay says, sounding irritated as well, even though he wasn’t just a moment ago. “I get it. You can’t share tonight.” 

It feels like they’re talking at odds with each other, which isn’t how talking with Jay usually feels, and it’s making Carlos more pissed off than he has any right to be. “I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “I said I can’t give you anything from the kitchen. You can have whatever you want from my stash, you know that. It’s all up where it usually is. If you’re just here to take my food you can go up and eat already, you don’t have to wait for me to do it.” 

“I’m not going to leave you to starve down here while I go through your stash,” Jay insists, gesturing short and sharp and irritated. “Dude. I’m not that much of a dick. You deserve it more than me.”

Carlos doesn’t deserve anything, not until the food is done and his mom and her henchmen have had their fill. He cooks and cleans and survives on the scraps they don’t want, and that’s how it’s always been, and he’s fine. He’s got his treehouse and his machines, and the barrier that keeps him from dying outright from the hunger. He’s not like Jay, who steals all his meals himself and doesn’t get pushed around at school and isn’t afraid to tell people no when he doesn’t want to do something. 

“I–” Carlos huffs out a sharp breath, annoyed at the way things are going. “Whatever, man. Just do whatever you want.” 

A dark, sulky look passes over Jay’s face, and then he relaxes into his usual carefree expression. “Fine,” he says, letting whatever irritation he’s been carrying fade away into nothing. “I will.” 

Carlos breathes out a sigh of relief, and turns back to his pot, where the broth he’d made ages ago, back when he’d had a string of good luck with his machines and sold one of them for enough money to buy a whole chicken from the market, is bubbling away. They’d had a freezer up until about a day ago, when the stupidly old-fashioned thing broke down again in the first heat wave of the year, so now he’s using up the few things he’d had squirrelled away in there before they go bad. Or, worse. Not much makes it over to the isle before it goes bad, and the original broth had been made with some pretty questionable root vegetables, in addition to the chicken carcass that he’d saved after picking it clean. 

Jay clatters his way inside the window, and Carlos turns back to him, irritation faded but not forgotten. “What’re you doing.” he asks, and it’s not a question. “You can’t be inside when my mother comes in, remember?” 

“I know, chill the fuck out.” Jay says, leaning down to tuck his head through the open window. “I’m just helping you out for a sec.” 

There are only so many things that Carlos can worry about at once, and the whims of another teenage boy aren’t one of them. “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Jay says, grinning, and presses their lips together. 

Carlos opens his mouth into the kiss on pure instinct. Sweetness blooms across his tongue, bitter and rich and complex all at once. Jay slips his tongue deeper, and the flavor spreads, somehow even sweeter than before as it melts and spreads deeper. It’s like nothing that Carlos has ever tasted before, and he’s kissed Jay a lot of times, in a lot of situations. It therefore stands to reason that this isn’t some new and previously unknown kissing ability that Jay’s developed, and is instead some rare treat that he’s chosen to share. Through kissing. 

Well then. 

Carlos tips his head back, going pliant and soft under the attention. The flavor is somehow hot, sweetness combining with the bitter bite of it and spreading to make his mouth feel warm and tacky with whatever the treat is. Jay nibbles at his lip, and Carlos obediently opens his mouth wider, so that Jay can slip more of his tongue inside, and– 

Oh. Deposit a soft chunk of something inside his mouth, something that tastes amazing and even more delicious when it’s not diluted by two people’s worth of spit and slick kissing messiness. 

Jay pulls back, one hand guiding Carlos’s chin up so that he closes his mouth properly around the treat, the other planted firmly on his hip, holding him upright. Gods, but it’s nice to have somebody around who knows exactly the ways that Carlos likes to be kissed, and also understands that the wobbly thing that always happens with his knees afterwards is fine and normal and just means he needs a second more support before being let go again. 

Gods. Carlos is a man (teenager. whatever.) of science, but a treat this good deserves the invocation of some sort of higher power, because there is no way that Jay got something this good on the isle without divine intervention. It’s soft and sweet while not being overpowering the way the usual boiled sweets they sometimes get over are, and the background flavor is somehow bitter like coffee without being like coffee, and it’s so good that Carlos doesn’t want to swallow the last little sliver of it and have it be gone forever. 

He does, because keeping a mouthful of sweet spit in his mouth forever would actually be disgusting, and opens his eyes to find Jay grinning at him. 

“It’s good, right?” 

Carlos nods. “It’s so good. How did–what is it?” 

Jay laughs. “It’s called dark chocolate. My dad got a case from one of the goblins, and he’s been trying to sell it without letting anyone know he has it. I got curious, and–” he gestures between them. “You’re the best cook I know, so I figured if anyone deserves to try it with me, it’s gotta be you.”

Carlos shouldn’t be greedy. He’s a– He’s a villain. He’s allowed a brief indulgence of greed. “Do you have more?” 

Jay pulls a paper-wrapped package out of his hip pocket. “Not much. I was gonna wait until later, but…” 

Carlos is still so hungry that the smell of cooking chicken broth and tomatoes is making him faintly nauseous, and the soup will have to be tended to soon, and his mother is still in the room just across the hall, and could come in at any moment, but. “I will literally suck your dick right here in this kitchen if you let me have more.” 

Jay laughs. “Dude. No dick sucking necessary. I brought it over here for you.” 

Carlos breathes in slowly, pulling the air in through his mouth. The flavor of the chocolate is still lingering on the back of his tongue, and he wants.  

“Give me an hour,” Carlos says slowly, letting the words drag over his tongue as he says them, imagining that they’re as sweet and delicious as the chocolate that Jay has waiting in the paper wrapper for them. “One hour. To finish this. And then I’ll meet you in the treehouse, and you can have whatever you want.” 

“Deal,” Jay whispers against his lips. “Don’t be late.”

[naamahdarling]

.

[chicago-geniza]

Ohhhh my Gd. Took more antibiotics. Had more noodles with kimchi broth and electrolytes and chased them with vitamin C gummies. Drinking more tea and nursing more mentholated lozenges. Refilled humidifier again. When will my equilibrium and ability to breathe return from war

[mewvore]

but what if it’s the spicy broth

drink that ramen lava