#recipe lore au

[blaiddraws]

some art for @evtraininguniversity 's Recipe Lore au! first picture is In General, and the other stuff is from the end of the first chapter. guy who cries because of some ice cream but like. understandably so tbh

[therekinperson]

21 - Lanolin - @/sytchu-stych's Cotltober

[theangrycomet-art]

See? Was that so bad?

Addressing the rampant monster problem sometimes requires alliances that would otherwise never happen, even if they are temporary.

Yin and Jinho dynamic is a strange one in the eyes of Sooga Village. Every interaction inevitably ends up in a fight that takes out half the town yet neither seem to make any effort to avoid each other. There is two seperate betting pools for when they will get married when in reality the two find the other to be the only worthy adversary in a 500 mile radius.

Not that Jinho would object to the idea of courting such a fierce and deadly warrior

COMMISSIONS OPEN

Armor Ref w/o the blood

[mooseonahunt]

It’s always 2 dumbasses telling each other “exactlyyyy”

[six-of-cringe]

dear lord if I manage to follow through on this fic it's gonna be god damn war and peace

[golden-explosions-main]

*(UB)Flowey begins writing down more cookie recipies.*

(UB)Flowey: Want anything specific?

(UB)Chara: Wait, you memorized all this?

(UB)Flowey: I had way too much time when I still controlled the RESETs.

*(UB)Frisk almost immediately calls one of the phone numbers.*

(You decide whether it's Sans or Alphys)

Flowey: "Know any really good oatmeal or peanut butter recipes? Or maybe anything you think mom or dad would like?"

He then notices (UB)Frisk calling.

Flowey: "Call Alphys, I'm not in the mood to deal with Sans today,"

[millidew]

i have so many p4 (mostly souyo i’m ngl) aus i want to share but none of the art is polished enough……

[anarkhebringer]

Okay so I'm awake now and am back to thinking about Viper Arkhe. His thick Spanish accent and usage of a class never before seen in Eorzea won't do well to let him blend in at all, but he's stubborn as fuck so he'd still be refusing to tell where he comes from until 6.5 when it finally comes up.

[nartothelar]

OOOO I’ll be sure to check it out!

I'm pretty sure I have read a fic on AO3 about Emmet being in a timeloop with Ingo dieying at the end of each loop. Did you write that? 👀

Oh I didn’t! But sounds interesting 👀 however I have heard of a fic where ingo kept dying but was revived every time and that was how ingo survived his first few days in hisui despite being dropped in the middle of a snow storm?

[deerspherestudios]

🔍 QNA MASTERLIST (PT.4)🔎

This masterlist covers general lore and an AU featuring MindReader!Mychael.

📍 For part 1, it's [HERE] for abilities, romantic/yandere traits and his opinion on kids. 📍 For part 2, it's [HERE] for anatomy. 📍 For part 3, it's [HERE] for reactions to different MCs.

Random Mychael lore❕

He has a different name in his own language, but goes by Mychael.

He also chose Mychael as a name himself.

He doesn't have a last name.

When did he start knitting and why?

Where did the nickname 'firefly' come from?

What music would he like?

His favorite smells are old books, honey and gasoline.

He's super ticklish.

How did he carry MC to his home?

His favorite thing to knit are beanies.

He'd love bringing you outdoors.

He's a quiet sleeper.

He sleeps in a fetal position.

He sleeps with both sets of eyes closed.

He'd love cheek kisses.

(Minor) loredump!

His knowledge on marriage.

He's overworked himself when fixing up the cabin.

Would he like stargazing?

You're not the first human he's found unconscious.

He'd be okay wearing a dress.

What's his wardrobe like?

He has a fear/phobia of snowstorms, thunder/lightning, trains/train whistles and water wells.

We can't get sick from him.

Does he have a religion/beliefs?

He would love the Shrek series.

The chickens' name origins (they're all flowers).

He's never considered humans as 'food'.

How did Mychael get his hens?

His favorite candies would be marshmallows and cotton candy.

If he had internet, he'd mostly look up arts-and-crafts and recipes. He'd also love DIY candy kits. He would enjoy nonverbal ASMR.

He prefers being warm.

He kinda celebrates New Years' and loves fireworks.

He doesn't need skincare but would enjoy face masks.

His first experience with bees.

He's never played UNO (but would love board and card games).

How does Mychael view the animals/people he meets in the forest?

More Mychael lore❕

He can't handle spicy food as it makes him physically ill.

He's ambidextrous.

His MBTI is INFJ-T.

His favorite desserts are pumpkin pie and cranberry muffins.

His favorite books are self-help skill books and picture books.

His favorite color is yellow. His favorite animal is a jellyfish.

He used to wear cloaks when it was socially acceptable to.

He doesn't believe in ghosts.

How did he learn to speak and pronounce words?

He would love origami.

He'd love to have a cow but think it'd be high maintenance.

He prefers tea over coffee.

His first time seeing the ocean.

He would enjoy K-pop, phonk and electropop music the most.

About MR!Mychael ❕

MR!Mychael origins and discussion.

MR!Mychael with MC with nice thoughts about him.

MR!Mychael wouldn't rescue MC in Day 1.

MR!Mychael analysis and the type of MC he'd fall for.

How MR!Mychael's power works.

How MC would meet MR!Mychael.

MR!Mychael would react the same regardless of MC's psyche.

MR!Mychael with an overthinking MC.

MR!Mychael can't see dreams.

MR!Mychael with an MC with an earworm.

[theangrycomet-art]

Sooga Back Then

Sooga Island's Monster problem has only recently gone down to a reasonable level. Even 15 years ago it wasn't considered unusual for the village to have to be rebuilt twice a month.

Luckily, things have changed since then. Between new sources of food and the alliance with the local Goblins, Sooga Island is now a thriving community.

It just took some time to get there.

COMMISSIONS OPEN

[kore-arts]

:)

Some Concept sketches for Lost Voices band au!

Bernards Role Changed Btw. His part is The Demigod of Iddun! His Apple recipes are very popular!

Alternate Costumes for a Alternate Story! They are a Storytelling band with LORE

Pt1

Pt2

Pt3

This is pt 4!

[scarapanna]

Guide to Aviator cookies and how they use magic [Bound to the skies!AU]

I've gotten into thinking about avian cookies some more these days, mainly how they work and their abilities, so here's a bit of an info dump regarding them!!

As usual with my info/headcanon posts, I'll divide this one into sections for continuity's sake (This is all AU lore but I'll still use regular cookies as an example to compare them with silly bird cookies).

[More info about them can be found in the character sheets, here's the first]

Mkay so first things first, what are Aviators?

Aviators are a type of cookie found all around Earthbread, these can be identified easily, as they're smaller in stature compared to other pastries and resemble different kinds of birds based on their ingredients.

Their defining traits are caused by how these cookies are baked: the process is the same as normal cookies for the most part, then once cookie dough has been prepared it's mixed in with ingredients from different pastry recipes.

This was originally a mistake that was then integrated into the main recipe for this kind of pastry, as it had interesting effects aside from the wings.

The common ones include:

A bigger resistance to water, with Avians getting soggy at a much slower rate.

Softer dough on the outside, allowing for less crumbly bodies but making it easier to bruise and cut.

Lighter weight to allow easier flight, this due to their internal structure (The pastry equivalent of hollow bones in birds).

So there are a bunch of pros and cons of being an Avian cookie, but what about magic?

How magic works for Avian cookies

Like the average cookie, Aviators have different attack elements and types of magic they can learn to use, alongside both having a ""battery"" for magic known as mana they spend to cast spells.

However, due to their baking process and softer dough, the body of an average aviator is not as efficient at retaining mana as cookies normally would be.

This causes them to suffer from a "mana spill" whenever they use magic, and the longer they do so the more will be lost, effectively draining them of energy much faster.

The only ones unaffected are ancient beasts, the sugar swan and legendary cookies (Not all of them are Aviators), with all three being made with bodies able to contain and expell powerful magic properly.

How is the problem dealt with?

As a result of this limitation on magic, all avian cookies tend to resort to physical combat and strategize their usage of power. Some wait more than others, some use magic in small bursts to recharge, and some save up as much as they can, it all depends on the individual's preference really.

When it comes to healing, there are times where multiple healers work on one patient (If a wound is too severe and taxing to treat alone), using medical tools to make the job easiers when energy is too low for the team to continue with magic.

This is the case with broken wings and complex breaks in the dough, with the former requiring an incredible amount of precision, focus, and power to reduce the chance of complications (If the wing is not set in place properly during healing or the tecnique is sloppy, patients risks infections and never being able to fly again).

[mrghostrat]

ok OK listen. here are my latest streamer au thoughts before i try to hop off for the day:

i love "married couple madly in love that no one realises are together because they're so different" but i am also terrible at fic planning for established relationships, and my favourite part about aziraphale/crowley is the lead up and the pining

so what if......... "streamers who no one realises are roommates because they're so different" AND "roommates who are secretly madly in love with each other but are so focused on keeping their own infatuation secret they don't notice it's reciprocated until thousands of online strangers start to point it out" ?????

fic concept: crowley and aziraphale are two full time streamers living together. they have their own spaces. but they mesh bizarrely well as roommates, and have come to really enjoy the routine of eating dinners, grocery shopping, and spending their days off together. there's still some distance between them, that shy sort of "i want to show him something– oh his door is closed, i better not bother him," invitations are actual invitations rather than "i'm doing this and you're coming with me," and they're not a CrowleyAndAziraphale unit yet.

both chats are going mad trying to figure out why crowley's roommate's voice is so familiar, and where they've seen that red hair in the corner of aziraphale's screen before. there's conspiracy theories and a subset of shippers (stoked by both crowley and aziraphale's occasional penchant to sigh and vent about a vague crush they haven't named, but is definitely their mysterious roommate if you watched every stream and collaborated on an elaborate google doc to connect all the dots together) but their mods are the only ones who know they live together. (and ship it. of course they know about the crushes and ship it to death and are just watching with popcorn waiting for these idiots to figure it out)

some people piece it together with all the off hand mentions and mid stream tea deliveries, and more start to believe them when crowley drags aziraphale to a twitchcon event and they're seen being friendly in photos together. they're also aware of people constantly asking and guessing about their illusive roommates, but when crowley finally pops up on an aziraphale stream, both streamers are startled at just how insanely their communities react to the innocuous reveal.

nothing changes for aziraphale and crowley. they were never intentionally hiding the fact, so they just continue referring to each other in their normal vague terms. but now when a new viewer is like "who's your roommate?" long time subs with the lore will fill them in. and it very quickly starts to sound like "crowley lives with aziraphale, that wholesome kitchen streamer. someone's made a clip comp, you should go watch. it's adorable they're so in love" and crowley sees these messages like what the FUCK are yall talking about in here on this day, and bans a message for the first time in six months.

aziraphale of course sees none of these messages because he's a fuckin luddite and can't keep up with chat.

or. maybe he's just choosing not to acknowledge them. because if chat can see he's in love with crowley, does that mean crowley can see it too? and that is just unacceptable and terrifying to him, so he smiles and quickly starts explaining how to saddle stitch a book spine even though literally nobody asked

(anathema, newt, and nina have worked their way through the flavoured popcorn seasonings anathema's aunt sent her for christmas, and are now experimenting with homemade seasoning recipes together) (if maggie knew about all this, she would have put her foot down and demanded they talk to aziraphale and crowley about having a conversation)

[aphrogeneias]

it's been seven hours and fifteen days —

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (soulmate!au)

summary: the aftermath of your reunion takes more unexpected turns. you and eddie find a new rhythm.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: angst, fluff, drinking, more backstory, more soulmate lore. reader is referred to by a nickname (joan).

series masterlist

The Deuce was a literal hole in the wall. Just an inconspicuous door and a small neon sign on the outside that blinked a little too much. That door led to a set of stairs that led to the actual bar, right underground. A number of people you’d met over the years called it a hidden gem, an oasis of true hard rock under all the glam that seemed to sweep over Sunset Strip since the last decade. People had a lot of adjectives to describe it, but you just like to call it home.

It wasn’t your actual home, of course. What you really called home was a shitty apartment a few blocks from there you shared with another girl you barely saw given your opposite work schedules. Home was a small house in Hawkins, Indiana, you used to share with your mother, with whom you seldom kept contact. The Deuce was your home the same way anywhere that welcomes you with open arms is, anywhere you feel comfortable to be yourself in. Where your family is, blood or not.

Home was also a person, who seemed to feel quite at home too on his first night there.

You watched Eddie from the bar the whole night, sneaking glances between tables, getting a little too distracted after he got on stage. The bartender, a southern girl named Heather who you were pretty sure had magic potion recipes under all her tattoos, noticed your distraught state and offered you one of her concoctions. 

That night was the first night you'd ever drank on the job, and it didn’t occur to you to care too much. Not when the boy you thought you’d left behind was working that stage like he owned the place. The crowd loved him, flocking to the front of the stage like hearing a siren call, but it was just Eddie and his larger than life persona, too big for this small bar, but yet undiscovered by the rest of the world.

You felt lucky to be able to witness that, and being honest to yourself, you missed being in his presence. Once upon a time, being close to Eddie made you feel like you could do anything, like anything could happen as long as he was beside you. You were starting to believe that again.

In another moment of your seemingly constant distraction, as you waited for Heather to fill up your tray with your most recent drink orders, Linda leaned up to the counter, catching you by surprise. “What is it between you and Van Halen?”

Caught between a sigh and an eye roll, you knew she was going to give you a hard time after seeing your too emotional reunion earlier. “His name is Eddie, and not that Eddie.” You tried to busy yourself pretending you’re checking what the bartenders were doing. “There’s nothing between us, we just haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

“You haven’t seen any of those boys in a long time and you weren’t holding them like they’re your husband who just came back from war.”

You snort, unable to keep your scowl for too long when she’s here. “The closest to war that boy’s ever seen is a mosh pit at a Slayer concert.”

“Honey, don’t deflect.”

The thing about Linda was that she knew every single one of you like the palm of her hand. It was one of her many gifts, really. She was the one who kept you afloat, who didn't let you keep running, gave you a reason to stay. 

You admired her for a lot of reasons, but maybe the biggest reason was because you saw yourself in her. Linda didn't talk about her past much — used to say lingering in it was not worth it — but what you knew, from what little she would tell, was that her soulmate was taken from her too soon, before she made her way here and took control over her life. 

Maybe, deep down, she knew you knew her pain, and that's why she took you in without hesitation when you came in asking for a job. But, then again, Linda has a thing for strays. You, Heather, Mitch — the practically non-verbal bouncer who liked making bracelets in his down time, the other waitresses, Corroded Coffin. The woman collected strays wherever she went, maybe because she knew what being strayed felt like first hand.

You almost felt bad for omitting the truth from her, but hiding had become second nature at that point. 

"Eddie is… a childhood friend. Our moms were close, his mom died when we were little, we got closer after that, but, um…" You tried to choose your words wisely under the scrutiny of her gaze. "After high school our paths just diverged, I guess. We graduated, had different plans. I left Hawkins, he stayed. That's all."

That was not all. What "all" meant really meant was that you were tired of pining over someone who was never going to accept he was the love of your life and who, during your senior year, went out of his way to deny any chance he had of being tied to his potential soulmate, which he claimed to not believe in, anyway.

"All" was too many years of blows to the bond you shared.

Once again, you busied yourself with the tray in your hands, making sure all the drinks were counted for and stable before lifting It up and starting to make your way to the table you were waiting. Linda reached out, a hand to your arm, making you halt.

"Whatever it is that you're not telling me, because I know you're not telling me everything, he feels it too. He hasn't taken his eyes out of you all night." Before you could open your mouth to argue, she brushed you off with a wave of her hand. "Now go think about it while you serve those hooligans."

More to think about? You thought. Great.

Closing shifts on Saturday nights were not something to be taken lightly.

The floor was a mess — spilled drinks, broken glass, blood and other bodily fluids, lost objects (most likely the patrons' soulmates', not theirs) — and the tables were not looking better. The stage needed to be unset and cleaned, everything needed to be put up for the next day. By the time you were finished, you were craving a shower and your bed, but you knew you owed Eddie a conversation. 

Those drinks you were not so discreetly slipped by your bartender friend were going to come in hand at that moment.

You went outside, going up the stairs to the back door, expecting to find all of Corroded Coffin still setting up the van with their equipment, but instead you found only Eddie, in the middle of finishing a cigarette and lighting a new one.

"Still chain smoking, I see."

He smiled at you with his cigarette between his lips, the cherry making his dark eyes shine, but you could still notice the smirk didn't quite reach them. You were sure you had a similar expression on your face.

"You came." He said, simply.

"I promised."

An uncomfortable silence fell upon you, nothing but the sounds of the night, almost early morning, around you. The weakening yellow light of the lamp post your only witness. Silences never used to be uncomfortable with Eddie, but now they're a testament of the distance that has grown between you.

A single thread of red stretched beyond miles and miles until it grew loose, but never once broke.

"So… how have things been going for you? Apart from the band, of course." It took a lot of effort not to cringe at your own awkwardness. You shuffled on your feet, grazing the concrete with your boots.

"Good. Things have been good." Eddie drew out his words, as he would whenever he was trying to find something to say, but couldn't quite say it. "I think they just got better."

"Who knew, huh?"

You got closer to him, almost unconsciously. He did the same.

"I knew. Didn't know how but I guess I knew we'd see each other again."

There's no doubt Eddie was speaking his mind when he said that. He was nothing if not earnest. The original plan was for you to leave town together, and maybe that plan was never entirely lost to him. You were never entirely lost to him.

What left your lips was almost a whisper. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He nods, curls bouncing with his head.

Silence befell you again. Eddie kept on smoking, you stayed beside him, thinking about what to say next, but never coming up with something good enough. He breaks first.

"Except that it's different now. In my mind, we'd take it from where we left off, but it's weird, isn't it?"

You swallowed hard. "Weird how?"

"I was gonna say, it's like I don't know you anymore," he took a long exhale before continuing, "but I really don't."

"Don't say that." You don't hide the frown that's taken over your face. "You'll always know me."

"I know the old you, the new you is a stranger to me."

You're a stranger to me. He said with such ease, like it was practiced — and it might have been, maybe he'd thought of this reunion as much as you had. It never occurred to you that, yes, you are strangers now. People change in a year, in two years, they change a lot in five years.

Eddie had become a stranger to you, and the concept was so foreign that you had to take a moment to breathe, lest the reality of it came crashing down too hard on you.

"If we're strangers now, then, we can always meet again."

It was the most sincera you could be at that moment. If you could start over with Eddie, if you had that opportunity, then you would grab it, and you wouldn't let it go a second time.

"I'd really like that."

The following weeks required some adjustment on your part.

You began to understand what Eddie meant with you being a stranger to him now. He was also different, the same person but ultimately changed by life experience, and you were beginning to catch up with each other. Every Friday and Saturday, the days Corroded Coffin were performing their residence at The Deuce, you helped the boys set up and take down their equipment, calling it a bonding experience, but the truth was you felt bad that they couldn’t pay for their own roadies. After closing time, you and Eddie went out to have something to eat at a nearby diner. It nearly felt like old times, except instead of late nights at Benny’s, you were having early mornings at a much less homey diner in L.A.

Eddie still liked his coffee with too much sugar, you still preferred tea. Some things never changed.

He had lost one of his rings, one of those nights. You saw it from away, a big skull ring fell to the floor of the stage as he thrashed around. Jeff accidentally kicked it completely out of view, and as expected, it didn’t take longer than a day for it to appear right beside your feet. Hours later, way into Sunday morning, it was sitting in your pocket as you watched Eddie down a mixture of pancakes, hashbrowns and overly sweet coffee as he filled you in on their latest attempts to record a demo tape.

As you sipped on your tea and pulled apart your blueberry pancakes with your fingers, an old childhood habit you found hard to break — Eddie always made fun of you for eating pancakes with your hands, but you fought back saying that it just made it taste better. He couldn’t argue with you on that since he tried doing the same and thoroughly approved — you listening, making questions from time to time. He was a storyteller, and even a tale of boring recording sessions at a cheap studio they fought hard to pay for was an epic one coming from him.

“Hey,” you interrupted him mid-story, the silver ring weighing in your pocket like it was about to burn a hole through it, “sorry, but I just remembered I found something of yours. Or at least, I think it’s yours?”

“Where did you find that?” He stage-whispered, reaching for it.

Years of lying didn’t make you a good actress, you just didn’t have the talent. However, Eddie never seemed to catch on, and it wasn’t any different at that moment. He watched with naturally wide eyes as you pulled the ring out, and the smile that appeared on his full lips was already enough to make you smile too.

“On the floor at the bar, when we were cleaning. I thought I saw you wear one similar to this, so I thought I would keep it and see if it was yours.” Only a half lie now, but it still made you fidget with your rings in order to keep it together.

“It is! Wayne got me this one. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Of course.” Those words almost don’t come out, the air stopping midway to your lungs at the sound of that nickname you hadn’t heard in years, heart racing despite your efforts to not let it affect you too much. Eddie didn’t seem to register, and simply went on with his tales and woes of a struggling musician in the search of the perfect demo tracklist.

You lost your wallet on a Thursday night, and it went against every rule you set yourself in order to preserve your peace.

It started early, soon after you realized Eddie wasn’t going to buy the whole soulmate thing, even if it was undeniable. You kept close track of everything you owned, you stopped putting your name on your personal belongings, just in case you’d lose them. You practically glued your documents to yourself, your wallet was always secure in your bag, all of your signature jewelry was carefully counted for. You didn’t mind losing things of little value, like small household items or tubes of lip gloss. Nothing that could be traced back to you.

Your wallet was very much off limits, and it was one of those things.

The lost wallet — you were pretty sure you’d lost in the street, exiting the supermarket in a hurry — ignited a domino effect. You were distressed because of it, losing sleep, overthinking what would happen once Eddie found it. Did it appear to him at the place he was sharing with the boys? Was he going to freak out once he realized the circumstances? Was he going to run from you, or was he going to act like nothing happened? For the second time since his unexpected arrival, you felt like the world was falling under your feet, and you were free falling into the deep and dark unknown.

Friday night, because of your lost wallet induced spiral, you arrived late at work. Hair in disarray, short breath, heart pounding as you made your way down the stairs, the posters on the walls around you, all a blur. 

Heather was the first one that greeted you, waving at you from the bar as she wiped the counter in front of her. “Joanie! Van Halen said he needs to talk to you. They’re about to start the soundcheck.”

You gave her the awkwardest thumbs up, nodding. Taking your time, as if you were walking to your literal death, you put your things in your locker at the staff room, and slowly made your way to the stage, being greeted by the boys’ excited hand waves. Your smile was tight, but managed to wave back. Eddie jumped off the small platform, “Hey!”

“Hey, Eddie. Heather said you wanted to talk.”

“Yeah, wait a sec.” He reached inside one of the hidden pockets of his jean vest, and pulled out your wallet. You couldn’t feel a thing anymore, the only thing you felt was a blackhole threatening to swallow you from right under your feet, and the sweat that was starting to gather on your palms. “Found this at the back, when I parked the van. Were you looking for it?”

You could have fainted right then and there. From anxiety or from relief, you didn’t know. 

“Oh, thank you! I was looking everywhere for it. I must have dropped it when I took the trash out last night.” Again, not a good actress. You let out a strangled laugh as you picked the wallet from his hand, visibly cringing at yourself. The next thing you did was more of a distraction than a genuine display of affection. You wrapped your arms around Eddie, clinging to his shoulders, hiding yourself from his gaze.

He chuckled, but wrapped his own arms around you all the same. “What was that for?”

Oh, Eddie. Sweet, oblivious, Eddie. Either because he genuinely didn’t see it, or because he didn’t want to see, it didn’t matter. You shook with relief, and disguised it as a different kind of worry.

“Just, uh… Thank you. I was really worried about it.”

“Oh, it’s okay. You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You held onto each other for a little longer than comfortable, in the same position you found yourselves that night, almost a whole month ago. You vowed to never lose anything ever again, because you had just been reminded of how dangerous it was.

[wolf-feathers12]

Big e and parenting/how to raise a kid in the Palaeolithic times. And the horrors of writing down word vomit.

TW: CHILD ABUSE,

From what I understand about warhammer there's this general consensus that big E KNEW how to be a better parent but just chose not to be one.

And it got me thinking.

What was parenting like back in the Palaeolithic times? (The emperor of mankind was apparently born in the 8th Millennium B.C. and again from my limited understanding this is sorta still apart of the Palaeolithic times? If anyone can clarify this I'd appreciate it!)

Now I'm no historian but I think it would be safe to assume that infant death would be very high. Meaning that you would try to have as many kids as possible because you don't know if they will all survive and kids weren't seen as their own person more of as workers or helpers

Maybe even tools???

Again that's a huge thing that ive simplified and I think it's also fair to say that there were many many communities where family relationships were far more nuanced but it does make me wonder.

If you grew up in a society where you could die from getting a simple cut and child abuse wasn't a thing (I'm picturing something like a Spartan society where being beaten to an inch of Ur life is seen as a building character moment) it was want made you a MAN.

Plus I don't really think neolithic fathers would be very understanding or supportive parents (having a relationship wasn't a goal surviving was kinda thing?)

Basically what I'm picturing is big e having one of those "I'm never going to treat my kids like this >:C" moments but by treating kids he's referring to the fact that he won't break their legs because they talked back kinda thing?

Big E strikes me as the kinda parent (in a modern au maybe?) to when called out on their neglect of their kids will be genuinely quite confused

"I never beat you guys? And you always had food ect??? I know abuse and I never abused you so stop complaining. :O"

Also if you were immortal and had lived since the Neanderthals (personal headcanon is that E is part Neanderthal or something hehehehe) the way you relate to people and have relationships with them would probably be a bit fucked? Add to that the fact that he's stuck in a BIGGER picture type mindset (AUTISM???) and you have a recipe for disaster.

That's not to say that big E is entirely blameless or should be wobberfied (you can if you want to lol) but I think there's a lot more at play then just "big E is an evil father"

If your still reading this then Ur a pretty cool person fr. Also my understanding of warhammer lore is limited so if there's something in cannon that directly contradicts this then pls let me know yo! >_<

thanks and have a great day! :D