#sharing to me is a bit different from communal dishes?

[skyprowler]

Really, really depends on the restaurant type!

E.g. a Chinese style restaurant or Tapas/Meze/Georgian style we usually consider our choices together and share everything (which can get a bit difficult due to different dietary needs in the family).

But in a typical Central/Northern European style restaurant (especially if it is a restaurant and not a more tavern style place - I do not have a really good translation but in German Gaststätte is less formal than Restaurant but Taverne sounds very medieval markety) we all order separately, even though we will discus who is getting what -> there is still a certain consideration of maximizing the variety. And while everyone has "their" food we do still share, everyone gets to try everything if they want. It needs to be mentioned though that depending on how formal the restaurant is, what you describe as sharing would sometimes be considered bad etiquette.

welcome to another episode of culture shock today question is :

for example: you're eating at italian restuarant

sharing food: you order 3-4 things (spaghetti/pizza etc) for your family and share so you can eat every dish on the table

ordering seperate: you order 1-2 things and eat them all by yourself

rb your country in the tag i want to know if this is an asian thing or not

[drvscarlett]

Let him cook pt 2

Charles Leclerc x Masterchef!reader

Series Part: 1

taglist: @bookstore-of-dreams @barcelonaloverf1life

CharlesLeclercUpdates posted a photo.

CharlesLeclercUpdates Charles Leclerc appeared in MasterChef Australia episode "Cooking to Survive"

User1 Ariana what are you doing hereeeee??

User2 I thought only f2 drivers were allowed for that, why was Charles wandering around

User7 In his defense, Ollie was with him. Maybe Ollie got invited and Charles tagged along.

User3 Okay but did anyone notice how his eyes lit up when Y/N talked to him. The boy was whipped!

User8 Charles can't get Y/N, he can't even cook User9 Agree User8! Besides Y/N has a long-time boyfriend, they are super cute. Do you all not watch the different challenges she dedicated to him?

Y/NCooks posted a photo.

Liked by Charles_Leclerc, friend1, and 255,000 others.

YNCooks what a stunning day! We won today as the captain of the red team and coincidentally there was a red team 1-2 as well??? #AlwaysBetOnRed

User1 Mother you slayed!!! I was so surprised to see you at the GP!

YNCooks me too!! This is one of the best team challenges ever.

User2 Charles is on the likes. Charles is on the likes.

Charles_Leclerc Congrats on your win!!!

Y/NCooks Thank you! You too, you did great!!!

User3 The collab of this masterchef and f1 community is not on my bingo list.

User4 Y/N's boyfriend how are you feeling that Charles is stealing your girl away??

"Are you seeing this right now? They thought that I am stealing you away" Charles grumbles over the phone. You can't see him right now but you can actually visualize the frown lines forming and the soft scowl that he has on his face "Why would I steal my own girlfriend?"

"Oh mon ami"

"And did they even watch the episodes? Like couldn't they piece it together that I'm the one that you are referring to I mean the cake and then the adopted italian narrative" Charles continued to rant on

It was adorable to hear Charles like this. How you wish that you weren't just conversing over the phone, how you wish that you could be there for him right now.

"Y/N you still there?" Charles' voice brought you out of your musings.

"Yep, I'm still here. Just a little bit tired" you explained

"You had a really long day mon amour."He says "I'm really so proud of you. You are slowly achieving your dreams"

"As I am very proud of you Charles. You always shine the brightest when you are up on that podium. I wish I could be there on the front lines cheering for you"

"One day you will be"

There is a peaceful silence shared between the two of you. The thing about you and Charles was that you both understand that this is a better situation than being under scrutiny by everyone. Charles had his fair share of public relationship and he learned a lot from it. He just wanted to keep this as his for a little while longer.

"I love you, I'll see you soon" "Love you more honey"

Risotto challenge

You were not always having a good day in the kitchen and this is one of those episodes that you did not do well hence the elimination challenge. The judges commented that there was no problem with the dish that you made but it was simply not as risky as what the others did. So you are really driven to show them creativeness.

Charles was watching the episode with so much dread as he hears that the elimination dish is a reinvention of a risotto. He watched enough MasterChef season with you to know that this dish is the death dish aka the dish that usually sends people home.

He understands the dilemma that you are facing right now, play it safe and stick to the classic which means it won't stand out or play it risky and be booted for elimination.

"I'm making Quinoa risotto" that was your bold decision and Charles couldn't believe his ears.

"Mon amour, risotto is rice. Quinoa is not rice" Charles mumbled to himself

"I know its a big risk but I have to show them that I am a risk taker and that I am a MasterChef winner material"you confidently state in the interview.

It was a stressful few minutes to Charles as he watched how the judges has already decided that the idea of a quinoa risotto would be an utter disaster. Nevertheless, he saw the determination in your eyes and how you defended why you opted to go for a risotto.

"Do you often cook quinoa at home?" Matt asked as he and Jean Pierre White scrutinize your table.

"I don't really" you replied with a shy smile "Well truthfully I don't even know what quinoa is before my boyfriend introduced me to it. It was a part of his diet so I went ahead and learn how to cook quinoa so he could eat"

This was new information for Charles and he felt warm with this new fact. He remembers how every time he visits you, there will be a variation of his diet meals that will ensure that he won't get bored of food and still be on track with his diet. He takes note that he will be grateful for that when she comes back.

"We're looking forward to taste that risotto" Matt says

Time went by and Charles let out a small sigh of relief after knowing that you completed your dish. Charles have full confidence with the dish that you made and he hopes that the judges will take a new perspective with this quinoa risotto.

"Quinoa is not a risotto" Marco Pierre White stated. It was all so menacing how he said it with flat emotions and a monotone voice. Charles could feel himself sweating as they tasted the dish.

"But this is another take that I will welcome" Another sigh of relief for Charles. He knows that you got this in the bag.

Cooking for a special someone

"We're now down to a challenge for the top two spots in the MasterChef kitchen, are you excited?"

Everything was so surreal. Starting from 20 and now they are down to the last 4 contestant. You were so grateful that you are another step closer to your dream of being a MasterChef winner.

"For this week, we will be bringing in some important guests who you will need to impress in order to secure a spot as a MasterChef finalist."

The contestants were asked to step one by one. You started to notice that they brought in their loved ones and you were fidgeting a bit because you don't know who they will bring out.

"Last but definitely not the least, Y/N step forward" Gary says "Are we gonna meet the boyfriend?"

"Oooh the boyfriend. We have been hearing about him for ages now" Matt teased

"The boyfriend is very busy" you replied as you remembered that he is probably in America right now.

"Oh cmon, cant he miss out a day or two"

"Its a job hazard to miss out a few days" you answered. It's all about the points so you really can't fault Charles not wanting to miss a single day at work.

"Okay in that case, our mystery guest for Y/N is............."

The MasterChef door opens and you were surprised to see not one but two Leclercs.

"What are you doing here down under?" you asked as you gave them a hug

"We're going to support you obviously!" Arthur grinned

It was weird because this was the first time that you will be with Arthur and Lorenzo with cameras rolling. You were nearly in tears when you hugged the two of them. Without even asking, you knew right away that Charles sent them since he will be busy with the races.

"And who are they to your life Y/N?" the judges asked

"This is Arthur and Lorenzo, they are very close friends. They treat me as if I'm one of their own" you smiled.

"I'm sure you are going to be inspired to cook now that you have them around"

The pressure was definitely on especially when you were told that there is a need to present 2 dishes, one sweet and another savory in 75 minutes. However, you were pumped to hear the cheers coming from the balcony as Arthur enthusiastically showers you with compliment while Lorenzo takes photos.

Charles, on the other hand, has been constantly checking his phone, now that he is done with free practice. He felt quite jealous that his brothers were able to see you and support you in person. Although, he was quite happy that they are having the time of life supporting you.

Lorenzo texted him about 30 minutes ago that they will be judging and eating the food that the contestants made. He was slowly getting impatient of the results, he wanted to know what's going on.

1 new text message.

Lorenzo: She got in! She's a finalist!!!

[earako]

Okay screw it another point form thingy

- Ballister has some traits that reflect his upbringing as a commoner in his certain area of the realm

- And both Ambrosius and Nimona love it

- Ambrosius didn't know Ballister had his ears pierced till he was dared to put on earrings in their early teens. Ballister just shrugged and popped them into his ear and didn't understand why his classmates were staring at him. [Apparently nobility didn't pierce their kids ears when they were babies]

- Also I'm giving Ballister sensitive ears. He may be a former street kid but his ears will never accept anything less than surgical steel/hypoallergenic/pure gold or silver [Ballister used to have gold earrings but he ended up selling them for food]

- okay wow that was a long rant on earrings-

-moving on: food as a love language! Ambrosius learned very quickly that Ballister used food as a means to communicate. After an argument or whenever they just didn't mesh well together Ambrosius would find a plate of cut up fruit on his bedside table followed by an apology from Ballister. [Funny enough, Ambrosius also likes to communicate via food, though he has a bit more sorta rules and stuff compared to Ballisters food as a love language]

- Ambrosius made the mistake of telling Ballister he liked a certain food once. So when he saw Nimona repeat his mistake he just said "Well I hope you're ready to eat that for the next month." Nimona didn't believe him. And was quickly proven wrong.

- When Ballister brought Nimona and Ambroaius to visit the area he grew up in Nimona asked him how many relatives he had. Ballister had to explain that he called family friends auntie/uncle/brother/sister out of respect. [Ambrosius also does the same, you know what fine, Ballister and Ambrosius share the Asian experience of calling everyone auntie/uncle/etc.]

- There is a very specific sound that'll get Ballister's attention in an instant. It's like a hiss but also tongue clicking kinda noise. Ambrosius accidentally copied it once and was confused when Ballister's head shot up, looking around confused before realizing Ambrosius made the noise

- Nimona learns about it and now makes the noise every time she wants Ballister's attention

- And back to the earring thing real quick but Ballister and Nimona going earring shopping together.

- Ballister and Ambrosius having traditional foods that look similar but are called different names. They'll playfully argue for hours calling each others dish the name of the dish in their respective home cultures. Nimona just rolls their eyes and eats half the pot so they'll stop.

- Lip pointing. The first time Ballister did it Ambrosius leaned in for a kiss. Poor guy-

- [this is just me projecting buut] sharpening pencils with a knife. Ambrosius gave Ballister a pencil sharpener but he likes the knife better [Screw it I'm giving Ballister a balisong-]

[peachesofteal]

I know you already have a plan for Gaz in the Faerie universe, but I just can't help sharing my own headcanon of him with you (sorry for how long this turned out)-

Kyle is just walking along the street when he senses it. It's barely there, like a kind of magic that hasn't been touched in years, but it's old, and any power that ancient is dangerous to ignore.

He almost misses it, really, the young girl walking past with her friends, but he sends a tendril of is own power out and- there it is. Something that stretches far back into her lineage, untouched within her lifetime, but undeniably there. It is so old he cannot even place it, an unusual occurrence after so many years studying different magics with his comrades.

His curiosity gets the better of him, and he follows you. Discreetly, of course, dispelling any suspicion by using a simple glamour. He follows you home, and finds-

nothing.

There are no spells or enchantments guarding your home, not even a glamour to deter unwanted guests. Such carelessness unheard of for any being of magic, in this world or any others.

Kyle snarls a bit. You have been left entirely defenseless, and he will not let that stand.

He stands watch that night. And as he does, he finds himself drawn to you. You have felt safe enough that you leave your curtains open foolish, he thinks to himself, even as he appreciates your form, your eyes, your smile.

He needs to know who and what you are.

The next morning, Kyle bumps into you, spilling your tea all over your white blouse. He feigns remorse, and insists on paying for it to be dry cleaned. He suggests that you exchange numbers, and you shyly agree- it is not often that such a handsome man asks to contact you, after all.

What you don't know, though, is that you have given Kyle information. He has your name, your number, and your address. He has spent enough years in this world, aiding in his brother's obsession, that he knows how to track someone down with less.

He does use your number to ask you out. Someone needs to keep you safe, after all, since you are apparently unable to do it yourself. And he finds that he enjoys your company. He adores how you share parts of yourself with him, unabashedly telling him about your hopes, your dreams, your fears.

And yet, though he now has your full name, he is baffled that it seems to hold no power over you.

The mystery only deepens when he meets your family. If they are part of your bloodline, then surely, one of them will have a clue as to what you are. And yet, he senses no trace of magic in your parents, or siblings.

The more dead ends he arrives at, the more intrigued he is. So he begins digging into human records, and that's where he finds it. Your sealed adoption record.

He has to call in every favor he has ever accrued in this world, but he eventually finds your birth certificate. The email arrives when Kyle is in your home, washing the dishes after you made him dinner.

A week later he enters the hospital where you birth mother resides. She's unwell, barely able to communicate. She's wizened- with her white hair and sunken eyes, a human would mistake her for being perhaps your great-grandmother, rather than mother. Her eyes meet his across the room, and it is clear- she knows what he is.

Kyle takes a seat across from her. She sniffs the air, and her lips pinch.

"You've been with my daughter, haven't you, Fae?" she spits the word out like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

Kyle puts on his most charming smile, the one that makes you feel weak in the knees.

"That won't work on me, boy. I know better now. I don't trust pretty things."

He leans back, undisturbed. "Well, I think we're on rather even footing now, aren't we? You know what I am, and I know what you are." He meets her stare evenly, "and I know what your daughter is, too."

The face of your birth mother darkens. "You won't have her. Not really. Not fully. I took measures to keep her safe. No man- fae, human, or otherwise- will do to her what he did to me."

"Really?" Kyle's smile drops, and his face turns into something determined, almost nasty. "You think you protected her? She has no idea who she is, or what she's capable of. Don't you think that's dangerous, her ignorance of her powers?"

"She doesn't need to know! She has a family! She has a life! She can be happy if you just leave! Her! ALONE!"

If he didn't know better, he might think the woman across from him a banshee. As it is, Kyle keeps his features calm. "I already know her true name. The one you gave her. I can take her away from this place. But you know that there's something I need from you first."

"Never," she hisses at him.

Kyle sighs. "I didn't want it to come to this," he tells her, and reaches into his coat pocket. He would never admit it, but he feels a sense of satisfaction when he sees her eyes go wide with fear, what little color that was left in her face draining away completely.

"Now," he says, charming smile firmly back in place. "Tell me what I want to know."

~~~

He's careful about how he breaks the news to you- his world is entirely unknown to you. You, who grew up sheltered, away from the world of magic and powers that you belonged to by birthright. But he has long since grown weary of the human world, and he is impatient to have you in his own home.

So, after taking you to a beachside picnic, he kisses you gently on the forehead, and whispers, voice low, "I have something for you,"

"Mmm?" you murmur, afraid that if you open your mouth, you'll shatter the beauty of this moment.

Kyle reaches into the bag, and carefully pulls out the item he retrieved from the cove where your birthmother hid it.

You gasp when you see it, even though you're not sure why. It looks like a piece of brown fabric, but even before you touch it, it feels like home.

"This was stolen from you by your birth mother," Kyle explains, draping it around your shoulders. You clutch it to yourself, the feeling indescribable. You are at peace, but you feel more emotions than you have ever been able to name. It feels like the world has suddenly shifted into focus, like the mental fog in your brain has cleared for the first time in your life.

"Stolen? What-"

"Shh," he presses a finger to your lips. "I can explain it all to you, but not here."

"What do you mean, 'not here'? Kyle, what are you saying?"

He silences you with a kiss this time. "I'm not from this world, love. And you don't belong here, either. Please, will you let me show you who you are?" He looks at you, and you're hypnotized by his eyes, so clear, so earnest.

You should say no. This is crazy. You've been dating Kyle for months now, and he claims that he's from another world? Even if it were true, you have a life here. Family, friends, a career, a home-

But somehow, with your new coat making you feel sheltered and warm, none of that seems important. The only important things in existence are you and Kyle.

"Yes."

~~~

In case it wasn't clear, reader is a selkie. Her mother was a selkie who had her coat stolen and was forced to live as the wife of the man who stole her coat. Also, I further headcanon that in this universe, selkies are unique in that they can travel between the different realms without any spells, due to their nature as shifters. They are both human and seal, creatures of land and water, something that is both and at the same time neither.

Oh my god hello? Why is this in my inbox instead of artfully laid out on your own page? I love it. Love a good selkie story, and I loved how you started to build the lore immediately.

🩵

[justasecretflower]

Highschool! Jujutsu kaisen characters with an American! Transfer student HCS 🌸

~ fluff.

‼️Do not reblog my works‼️

_____________________________________

Satoru Gojo - canonically, he knows a bit of English, but for easier communication purposes all of the jjk guys can speak English and Japanese..

- orders snacks from America to try out with you

- I don’t think he’d hate on America or Americans but when you’d mess up a mission or lose during sparing he’d pull a joking “Classic American.”

- devours twinkies when he first gets them then orders like 50 more boxes. Refuses to share his twinkies.

- tells you he’s gonna take a trip over there when he’s older and has more freedom and eat all the best food. New York styled pizza, those huge milkshakes with like a waffle on top, triple cheeseburgers, he’s gonna take pictures of him eating it all and then frame it for you. (Don’t even ask.)

Geto Suguru - he’s more interested in the culture, i personally think. He likes to learn the proper greetings, weird customs, differences between Japan and America.

- he baked a classic southern dish once in secret and liked it..

- hates when Americans are overly patriotic. He pulls this face.

- more drawn to the west coast

Shoko ieri - makes fun of your accent. Yes, Americans have accents. Never actually mad or annoyed at it, just pokes fun.

- honestly doesn’t care as much as geto or Gojo. Like yeah, there’s other people from other countries and cultures, she’d already known that?

- honestly doesn’t care lol.

____________________________________

Yuji itadori- oh he knows about America alright. His wife lives there! (Jenifer Lawrence duh)

- finds all of the city’s interesting, definitely wants to watch a New York fashion show

- attempts to do a southern accent (either fails or does it scarily good)

- asks questions about schooling over there, specifically the dress code.

- pulls up to you one day decked out in American flags, cowboy boots and a cowboy hat and asks if you feel at home on 4th of July. If you told him about 4th of July.

Megumi fushiguro - another one that genuinely doesn’t care. He’s just like “oh alright cool”

- doesn’t make fun of you for an accent or poke fun at you for being American. He js genuinely doesn’t care.

- will watch the US reality tv shows and finds all the drama stupidly amusing.

Nobara kugisaki - also very interested in all the cities and fashion

- watches Victoria secret fashion shows with you if you like that. Or just New York fashion shows in general.

- critiques American style

- pls take her to LA, NYC, or Chicago she’s begging atp

- if she visited any of the cities she’d dress to the nines just to walk around in the city streets.

Aoi todo - interested in all of your celebrities you have other there.

- ends up finding a new celebrity crush and watches all of the movies she’s in.

- gossiping to u abt celebrity drama that YOU didn’t even know about before him.

- “this is y/n!! My American friend!!” “Todo you don’t have to introduce me to other people like that”

- yuji would prolly also say that line ngl

+ sequel! Teaching Satoru Gojo! To swear in English, Idea suggested by Chiefclown🤍

Thank you for reading :). Pls request some more JJK head canons with the “🌸” emoji!:)

Tags

[shitsndgiggs]

Hii, I love your work and that you write for Arda because there is not much about him. So i would like to request a fic about him maybe with a Slavic reader (because I am Slavic, from Slovakia), just them experiencing their different cultures, maybe her meeting his parents and them being worried because their culture is so different, thank you and have a great day🫶🏻💗

A/N: it’s kinda short. Not my best work, but I still hope that you like it.

LOVE WITHOUT BORDERS - ARDA GÜLER

In which meeting Arda’s parents was not as bad as Y/N had imagined

Arda Güler x slavic! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

I had always been proud of my heritage, with its rich traditions and deep-rooted customs.

When I met Arda, I knew our relationship would be a journey of discovery.

We came from different worlds, but our love was strong, despite out different cultures.

Arda and I had been dating for almost a year, and things were getting serious. We had spent countless hours sharing stories about our childhoods, favorite foods, and family traditions.

Now, it was time to take the next step: meeting his parents in Turkey.

As our plane descended into Esenboğa airport, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. Arda held my hand, sensing my unease.

"Don’t worry, miláčik," he said, using the Slovak term he had picked up. "They will love you."

"I hope so," I replied, squeezing his hand. "I just want to make a good impression."

We arrived at his parents' home, a beautiful house filled with the warmth and aroma of Turkish cuisine.

His mother, Serap, and father, Umit, greeted us with open arms. Their hospitality was heartwarming.

"Welcome to our home," Serap said in Turkish, which Arda quickly translated for me. "We are happy to finally meet you."

"Thank you so much for having me," I replied, smiling. "I'm excited to be here."

As we sat down for dinner, the table was covered with an array of delicious turkish dishes. I recognized some from the meals Arda had cooked for me.

We started with small appetizers, and the conversation flowed smoothly at first.

"How was your flight?" Umit asked through Arda, who was acting as our translator.

"It was good, thank you," I replied, feeling more at ease with every passing moment. "I’ve always wanted to visit Turkey, and it’s even more special to do it with Arda."

Serap smiled. "We’ve heard a lot about you," she said. "Arda speaks very highly of you."

As the evening progressed, we talked about many things—Arda’s career, my job, and our shared love for travel.

At one point, Serap turned to me, her eyes warm and curious.

"Tell us about your family," she said gently. "Arda mentioned you have a close-knit family."

I smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Yes, we are very close. My parents have always been supportive of me, and I have two younger siblings who I adore. My brother is in kindergarten, and my sister is finishing high school."

Umit nodded, his eyes twinkling. "Family is very important. It’s good to hear that you have such a strong bond."

Arda squeezed my hand under the table, giving me a reassuring smile. "She talks about her family all the time. They sound wonderful."

I felt a warmth spread through me at his words. "They are," I said softly. "I’m lucky to have them."

The next few days were a whirlwind of experiences. Arda took me to explore Ankara, showing me the stunning Atatürk Mausoleum, the bustling Kızılay Square, and the serene Gençlik Park.

We even attended a music concert, which was unlike anything I had ever seen.

One evening, as we were having tea on the terrace, Arda and I talked about our relationship and the future.

"Do you think our cultural differences will be a problem?" I asked, voicing a concern that had been on my mind.

Arda looked thoughtful. "I think any relationship has its challenges," he said. "But as long as we communicate and respect each other’s backgrounds, we can make it work. My parents love you already, and I know your family will welcome me too."

I smiled, feeling reassured. "You’re right. We’ll take it one step at a time."

[banzaitaka]

Hi there! Can I request some headcanons for the Obey me brothers where their boyfriend is a fallen angel (He fell before they did)? Their bf has a similar personality to Grell from black butler and they love that their job is to make sure sinners safely make it to the devildom (That job part isn't that important I just thought it could be a fun detail). Or maybe a jjk Oneshot on Gojo just taking in this little boy who doesn't like him all that much but eventually warms up to him?

Thank you in advance if you decide to write either one, and if you don't it's fine.

Stay safe, remember to drink water and eat some food! Love your work <3

---

...Being taken in by Satoru...and...Megumi is there too...Dad Satoru and brother Megumi??? Pls- I WANT THIS TO HAPPEN Actually, I might make reader Megumi's brother so that I don't have to wreck my brain over a different bg story

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

I hope this is what you wanted & you enjoy reading! Tips are very welcome!

Satoru Gojo x male! reader

Warming

To say their relationship started off as rocky would be a massive understatement. No matter what Satoru did, the younger Fushiguro brother refused to acknowledge his existence, and in those rare moments he does, a glare way too strong for a boy that age was all he was willing to share. Satoru still saw those moments as an accomplishment. Sure, at least an indifferent expression would’ve been a bit nicer, but he couldn’t help but giggle every time the boy burned holes into him with his eyes.

The only time this kind of behaviour was slightly problematic was when there had to be some kind of communication between the two. Megumi certainly didn’t exactly have the energy to repeat everything the silver haired had said, so his little brother could reply to him instead of to the sorcerer. And since (Y/N) had to live under the same roof as Satoru, without either of his siblings, and won’t be able to move out anytime soon because of his age, exchanging a few words was going to be necessary. Not only to make things way easier, but also to better their relationship.

As much as Megumi would've liked to, and actually tried to, he couldn’t be the only person (Y/N) could depend on. Megumi was older, but still at a young age himself. And being his family doesn’t mean he has to bear the responsibility of raising him, and taking care of him like a parent did. That was exactly what Satoru was there for. But the distrust (Y/N) had towards him was really getting in the way.

No one blamed him for that though, it was absolutely understandable, some might even say expected, behaviour of the boy, considering what he had gone through.

But, again, in order to make life easier for all three of them, a change needed to happen. Not immediately, nothing massive. There was hope it would be enough for (Y/N) to come to Satoru when he needed help with little things, and when he was feeling unwell in one way or another. Whenever Megumi was absent, which was often, (Y/N) would get himself in danger quite regularly. For example, trying to climb onto the counter to reach dishes on the top shelves, trying to work sharp or other not child-friendly objects, never telling whenever he got a stomachache, felt dizzy, etc.

Despite Satoru catching on a lot of times, it was neither a 100% success rate, nor necessary work. It has become quite exhausting overtime. The sorcerer had determination to crack that thick wall between the two.

"(Y/NNNNNN)~", the sorcerer’s voice was as cheerful and obnoxious as ever as he peeked his head through the door; the door to the room (Y/N) got to call his own. The door he wished he could lock sometimes. Only sometimes, though. His feelings for Satoru weren’t as bad as to want to lock him out. The boy spared him a glance from out of the corner of his eyes as he sat on the ground with his new Lego set he got. From Satoru, to be quite exact. As soon as the man found out about his passion for building things (he had watched him build walls and castles out of everything he could stack, multiple times) he made sure to make use of that rather valuable information. Every once in a while he would bring home a small Lego packet or box for the boy to play with. And on a rarer occasion, he‘d buy a much larger set.

Some would say Satoru was spoiling (Y/N) with all those gifts, in actuality it was a peace offering, a gesture to show he could be trusted. “Like giving an animal food until it let‘s you pat it.“, maybe not exactly the best comparison, but those were his words as he explained his actions. Trust issues were not unfamiliar to the male, and this approach was but one out of multiple he was going to try to have (Y/N) open up wide enough.

“You like the new addition to your collection?“, he sat down next to the other, eyeing his current project; a castle. It certainly was bigger than the sorcerer expected it to be, but that was by no means a bad thing. Actually quite the opposite. “Yeah.“, a short and simple response, though it showcases the progress the two of them made. “I‘m glad you do! Because I picked this one up at the store today.“, the young adult grinned, dangling a tiny box in front of the boy by the hook attached to the top. A mini set containing a prince and a horse, it seemed by looking at the big picture.

Satoru could practically see (Y/N)‘s eyes sparkling, dropping the gift into his awaiting hands. He watched him fumble the box open and emptying it at his feet on the floor. The sight of how he pushed all the pieces together in an excitement induced hurry warmed his heart in a way. And once (Y/N) then took the prince figure and put it in one of the towers, sending him a mischievous smirk as he pulled at a piece, activating a mechanism that made the figure fall through the ground…accompanied by that sweet, hearty laugh…Satoru couldn’t help but squeal at the cute display, pulling the boy to his chest, unbothered by the small fists hitting him in his sides and the displeased whines he received in return, “Ahhhhhh! That was adorable! This was the first time I heard you laugh and not glare at me as if you wanted me dead!“

Surprisingly enough, the hitting soon died down, and the whining was replaced by soft breathing. Leaning against the older one, (Y/N) wondered; Was Satoru always this warm?

[updownlately]

stay a minute (let my troubled heart rest)

| leah williamson x reader | hurt/comfort | 1.9k | a/n: another fic based off another song in another language :) this song's dear to me, one of my faves and i just had this idea while listening to a slow version of it. didn't edit this as much as i would've liked to but oh well... hope y'all like it!

~~~

Nights like these had a special place in your heart.

A tranquil atmosphere blanketed your shared apartment, ignorant of the UWCL semi-finals game you and Leah had played in today. 

The emotions of the game had long worn off, excitement, joy, anxiety, pain, all vanishing the second the pair of you had entered the apartment, takeout in hand a mere few hours ago.

Since then, you both had made base in the living room, Love Island playing on the tv, Leah enthralled by the show, a welcome distraction from the failures of the day.

The room itself was dark, save for the flashes of light from the screen illuminating the nearby area. You were cuddled up against Leah under a blanket, empty takeaway containers and dishes littering your coffee table, the warmth of each other's body more enticing than the prospect of a pristine apartment.

You hadn't been as interested in the show as your counterpart, instead opting to let yourself snuggle further into her chest, fingers tracing over the veins in her forearm, wandering over her lover tattoo as she focused on the screen ahead, her other arm silently wrapping around your waist, holding you closer. 

Ever since the pair of you had come home, few words had been said, eyes communicating everything you didn't need words to. Between showering again to wash off the tension in your sore bodies to changing into each other's hoodies and sweats soundlessly, letting the scent of each other bring you both home, a comfortable silence enveloped the pair of you, wrapping you cozily.

The game hadn't gone how you had wanted it to, the loss no doubt hitting you both immensely. Yet, in this moment, the grief of the defeat was quietly being washed away, the waves of your lover's tenderness quietly cleansing your heart, misery flowing like a river out of your soul. 

Taking a deep breath in, you willed the assault of negative thoughts in your head to go away. You knew you had quite a few missed opportunities to put the ball in the back of the net, nothing seeming to work in your favour though. Even worse, you know there were a few instances that you had made a few poor decisions, but with the game long gone, no results to be changed, you willed yourself to focus on the present, on being in your girl’s arms, safe and loved.

Entranced in your own musings, eyes closing, preoccupied by the calming heartbeat of the English captain, you failed to notice her attention resting upon you.

Leah wasn't happy with the result herself, heart aching at the conclusion that the prospect of being Champions League finalists was once again just barely out of reach. She was familiar with this feeling, friendly with despair, accustomed to wishing she had just given it a little bit more effort, yearning for a different outcome. Still, even as miserable as she felt, it seemed that it all wiped itself away the second you made yourself comfortable in her arms.

As soon as the pair of you had changed, you hadn’t wasted a second before tugging Leah over to the couch, fluffiest blanket in the house in your other hand. You had sat her down, a gentle stare threatening her to stay before you had warmed and plated the food for both of you. 

Immediately settling right beside Leah upon your return, shoulders millimetres apart, you had both silently ate dinner, knowing the faintest of touches would calm the other. 

Post dinner, the pair of you hadn’t separated, you only moving to better snuggle against Leah, hoping your body warmth would comfort the blonde.

And it worked. Unbeknownst to you, while the weight on Leah’s chest hadn't lifted from earlier, her breaths did come a tad bit easier now, the rock in her throating shrinking slightly. 

Yet, just thinking of the game brought another wave of sadness to the central-back's mind though, her arm tightening its grip on you, unknowingly seeking the comfort only you could provide. 

She couldn’t help but replay each tiny mistake in her head. The way certain passes didn’t connect, how a few tackles were just terribly mistimed, how she should’ve done better. The thoughts were battering her mind, a rush of frustration stifling her calming mood.

Eyes beginning to dampen, Leah held a shaky breath back, hoping you wouldn't notice the way her chest shook ever so faintly. 

She should've known better than to doubt your love for herself however.

To you, the change in Leah's demeanour was immediately noticeable, the shiver running through her chest an earthquake to you, quickening heartbeat just as easily distinguishable. 

Quietly and carefully, you shifted in her hold, your own arms reaching to grasp hers, pulling her up gently, bringing you both into a sitting position. 

You situated yourself in her lap, straddling her but being careful to avoid putting too much pressure on her thighs, knowing they'd likely be sore. Letting your knees do the work instead, you smiled as Leah gently clutched either side of your waist, silently steadying you, ensuring you wouldn't fall. 

Bringing your own hands up, you let yourself trace her fingers on your sides. Skimming your touch up the length of her arms, pausing for a second on her shoulders, long enough to just gently let your fingertips kiss the nape of her neck, your eyes scanned her face, taking note of the barely visible hints of hurt hidden in her eyes.

Eventually carrying on, you let your hand tenderly run up her neck, coming to rest across either side of her face, digits fanning her cheeks. You knew that she was beating herself up mentally, you both were. It was the way you both worked. It’s why you worked well together, differently similar, aware of the depths of self-anguish that each other’s minds could reach.

Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, you felt the first of her tears fall onto your arms, a slow trickle of a few following soon after. 

Leaving another affectionate peck between her eyebrows, right where the creases in her forehead tended to form when she was unhappy, you remained put, lips ghosting the spot you had just kissed. You gave her a minute, knowing quite well that she needed some calm before you checked in on her.

You knew you both were hurting, would be for a while too, yet you hoped that in this moment, your presence could comfort the woman you loved, erase her pain even if only for the time being.

The two of you rested together for a little while, arms wrapped around the other, each holding your own world in your arms. 

Eyes closed, basking in the moment, in the anguish you two were undoubtedly sharing, you let your love fill the voids your pain had torn open.

It was only when Leah's breath hitched for a second time, that you opened your eyes, the gentle sniffles confirming what you already knew.

Pulling back just a tad bit, you directed the blonde to look up at you, lifting her chin with your hands. Your thumbs gently swiped the few falling tears away resting ready to catch the few new ones that joined the descent down as well.

Kissing her again, this time on her lips, her soft tears not ceasing to fall, you hoped that your heart could tell her everything no words could ever say. 

You prayed that she understood that you were going to be with her every step of the way, through all the good and the bad. You wished that she knew that if you could, if you so absolutely could, you wouldn't hesitate to take her grief and let it make home in your heart instead. You desired to be able to show her just how miserable you would be without her by your side, how vital she was to your being, to your existence, her the oxygen that you so desperately craved, needed.

You longed to show her how much you loved her, how if the world was in your hands, she'd never spend another day miserable, never have to hold an ounce, a gram, of grief in her heart ever again. You wished that you could explain to her how much she meant to you, in this moment, and every in the past and those that would come in the future. Yet you couldn't, unable to quantify just how deep your love ran for her, how deep you were willing to cut yourself just to see her smile.

So instead you settled for your kisses, inwardly pleading that they would be enough to rest her heart. 

Kiss after chaste kiss, you both ignored the salty taste of tears on your tongues, letting your pain quietly bleed you dry and tired. 

Only breaking apart to catch your breaths, you looked into Leah's eyes, the dim lighting not weak enough to hide the tiredness that hid behind.

Slowly climbing out of her lap, you kept your gaze on Leah as you reached for the remote. 

Switching off the tv and tossing your long forgotten blanket to the side, you tugged on your lover's arm, urging her to follow you. She silently agreeing, her trust in you unwavering.

Letting herself be led, Leah padded softly behind you, quiet footsteps placed in the wake of your passing ones.

And when you gently sat her on the bed, sharing a sweet kiss before quickly exiting the room, Leah waited patiently for your return.

She could hear you make quick work of locking up the house, the gentle slams of windows being shut and the sound of two waters being poured, before the house went silent, save for your hushed footfalls.

Returning, you placed the waters down on either side before quietly sidling up next to Leah. 

Reaching your hands out, you waited for her to intertwine her own before climbing over to your side of the bed, drawing Leah with you.

Letting go briefly, you carefully brought the covers of you both, before once again, pulling her into your arms. 

You wrapped your arms around Leah once more, her head tucking into the crook of your neck, your hand in her hair, gently scratching her scalp. Your bodies were intertwined, not a hair of space between you two, the feeling of each other’s body providing the comfort you both craved.

You knew you couldn’t take away the sorrow that plagued her right now, no matter how much you wanted. So instead, you hoped your presence would be enough to calm her troubled heart, holding her tighter, kissing her softly, loving her forever.

Closing your eyes, the pair of you drifted off not too long after, misery finding sweet company in each other's pain, hearts finding tender love in each other's arms. 

With each other in close proximity, never more than a touch away, you both knew that every grief would pass and each joy would be cherished.

Pain would never not burrow itself in the cracks of each other's heart, but you knew you'd both let your love for the other help the fissures carefully heal.

Now and for years to come, the pair of you would always be there for one another, sharing comfort, care, and love.

So for now, you'd settle for this moment, hoping your presence would say everything words couldn't and your arms could provide a safe space for her troubled heart to rest.

[tqmies]

Congrats on 1K! Can I have 41 and 53, roommate haechan? Thank you so much

Go Away | Lee Haechan

Part of Tqmies 1K Event!

Room mate au! 41. “I… I think I’m happy.” “You think? So you’re not one hundred percent certain?” 53. "Hey, you haven't come out of your room in like two days...I'm not worried or anything but the dishes are piling up and I need you to be alive so you can take care of them, so...", wc: 1.1k note: thank you so much <3 hope you enjoy it, domestic room mate hyuck?? i cry

6 days, it had been that long since you had broken up with your boyfriend of over two years. And of course, the first few days were okay, which was different from what you expected. You truly thought you'd be downing tubs of ice cream in front of the TV watching sad romance flicks. Like they do in all the cliche movies.

However, your little breakdown didn't come until a few days later. Everything needed time to settle in, and once it did? Oh boy.

Your friends had managed to keep you occupied for the first few days, but you weren't exactly a joy to be around. Not even as they dragged you to the club to remind you how great being single could be. You just couldn't find it in you to enjoy your time out.

Either way, you had returned home to Lee Haechan, your menace of a roommate. And in fact, your current state could all directly be pointed back to him.

It had been a normal Thursday, you returning home to him on the couch, playing one of his stupid games on your shared console.

You were sniffling a bit, frustrated at another cancelled date with your boyfriend. He had been getting far too busy to spend time with the likes of you, and you could feel him slipping away.

You tried not to think about it too much, choosing to hold your sanity. That was until Haechan took note of your form, and asked why you looked like your dog died, whatever that meant.

"He cancelled again, that asshole! I mean, I get that he's busy and all, but so am I! He could've let me know he had a meeting today, is my time not worth as much as his?" You let out, dropping your bag with a loud thud on the floor. "He never communicates with me! Is it that hard to send a text saying you're not going to make it? It must be, because I was waiting there for an hour and a half before he let me know!"

And you storm off to the kitchen, Haechan following diligently behind you. "Maybe he just got really caught up in work." He says meekly, a little afraid of your wrath at the moment, but also feeling bad for you.

You force open the fridge, ignoring Haechans small words. You look around it for a few seconds, brows furrowing as you whip your head back to him. "Where's all the damn alcohol!"

"What?" He says, taken aback as you move to check the bottom cabinets. You move things around, huffing when you can't find a single bottle.

"I know you're here somewhere!" You speak, apparently talking to the alcohol. You even allow yourself a tear to fall, though all you can feel is anger at the moment. Yeah, you've lost it.

"Wait, okay. Instead of drinking, why don't we just talk about it?" He suggests, attempting to divert your attention.

You're not having it though. "Talk? Did he take time to talk to me? No! So I don't think-"

"Woah, woah, slow down." Haechan interrupts. "It sounds like you're angry about more than just today, you seem really upset."

"Well it wasn't just today, he's been doing this so much. We haven't been on a proper date in months." You speak, crossing your arms. Scoffing, you place your hands on the counter. "But God forbid I miss a single phone call of his, and then he's all sulky the rest of the day, and they say I'm the dramatic one!"

"Well maybe it's time to call it quits then."

You blink, staring back at Haechan. "What?"

The thought had truly never crossed your mind, sure you were upset. But enough to break up with your boyfriend? Were things really that bad?

"It doesn't seem like you're benefiting from this relationship, that's all I'm saying." He speaks again, shrugging.

"Relationships aren't about benefiting!" You groan, throwing your hands up.

"I get that, but you don't even seem happy." He retorts, and he meant it. Every time you opened your mouth related to your boyfriend, it was a complaint or angry statement.

And you hated that he was a bit right. "I... I think I'm happy."

"You think? So you're not one hundred percent certain?" He asks, and you hate how hard you're thinking about it.

You were so unhappy.

That revelation led you to where you were at the moment. Bundled up in blankets as you mourned a relationship that you had ended.

And part of you stupidly blames Haechan, but you can barely justify why. All he did was open your eyes to how bad your relationship was.

Though you're still a bit annoyed that he planned the break up seed in your head, and that you had allowed it to bloom into a real course of action. It was definitely for the best, but it still hurt like hell.

So after refusing another forced day out, you were currently wallowing in self pity, watching the latest episode of your comfort show.

Truth be told, you hadn't lifted a finger all day, choosing to remain in bed. And you did that the next day as well, willing yourself to eat small meals Haechan left outside your door.

He didn't want to bother you too much, figuring you were taking this a bit harder than he thought. You seemed fine the other day, but he assumed the reality hit you.

But against all his restraint, he finally willed himself to knock on your door. He calls your name, to which he receives no answer. You're not in the mood for company, can't he just let you rot in your room?

The answer was no. "Hey, you haven't come out of your room in like two days...I'm not worried or anything but the dishes are piling up and I need you to be alive so you can take care of them, so..."

You admit, you giggle a little at his mention of your usual chore. But you barely will yourself to shout a little. "Do them yourself."

"I don't think so!" He complains, leaning against your closed door. "Last time I did them you said to never let me again."

You laugh, for the first time in a few days. "That's because you spent the entire time playing with bubbles instead of washing anything."

"Bubbles are cool, you're weird for not playing with them!" He responds, smiling at the little chuckle that leaves your lips.

"Go away." You speak, half-heartedly. "Let me decay in peace."

"No," He says, rolling his eyes. "Can I come in?"

"I haven't bathed in two days."

"That can be arranged, I'll help you wash your hair after." He offers, and you're thankful for it.

"Okay," You speak, wiping the stray tears residing on your face. You will yourself to get out of bed, standing by your door. You can see the shadow of his feet under it, and you grin. "Thank you Haechan."

"Anytime." He says, and you feel your heart flutter a bit at that.

He'd always be here for you, and he'd make sure you knew that.

[timeless-fanfic]

Chapter 5: The New Dawn

Word Count: 2240

Andrew x Reader

The night passed quietly, the kind of deep, restful sleep that wraps itself around you like a warm blanket. When I finally stirred, the first light of dawn was just beginning to filter through the small window of my room, casting a soft, golden glow across the floor. I lay there for a moment, listening to the sounds of the house waking up around me—the muted clatter of dishes in the kitchen, the low hum of voices, and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards.

There was something different about this morning, something that made me linger in bed a little longer than usual. Perhaps it was the knowledge that, for the first time in a long while, I wasn’t waking up alone. The presence of Jesus and His disciples, though still a bit surreal to me, had brought a sense of comfort and community that I hadn’t realized I was missing. It was as though their arrival had filled the house with an energy that had been absent for far too long.

After a few more minutes, I finally pushed myself up and out of bed, stretching my arms above my head to shake off the last remnants of sleep. The cool air of the morning brushed against my skin, refreshing and invigorating, as I slipped on my sandals and made my way out of the small room.

The main room of the house was already alive with activity. Elias was outside, drawing water from the well, while Miriam bustled about in the kitchen, her hands busy with the morning meal. The disciples were scattered about, some sitting quietly in prayer, others engaged in low conversation. As I entered the room, a few of them looked up and greeted me with kind smiles and nods, their expressions warm and welcoming.

I returned their greetings, feeling a strange mix of shyness and curiosity. Though I had never met these men before last night, there was something about them that put me at ease, as if they were old friends I had simply forgotten. As I moved through the room, I couldn’t help but notice how at peace they all seemed, even in the midst of their travels. It was a stark contrast to the restless energy that often plagued my own life, and I found myself wondering what it was that gave them such calmness.

Miriam caught my eye as I passed by the kitchen, waving me over with a smile. “Good morning,” she said, her voice soft and cheerful. “Did you sleep well?”

I nodded, returning her smile. “I did, thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept so soundly.”

“Good, good,” she replied, patting my arm affectionately. “There’s something about having a house full of guests that makes everything feel more alive, don’t you think?”

I couldn’t argue with that. The house did feel more alive, more vibrant than it had in weeks. As we spoke, I noticed that the others were beginning to gather around the table, drawn by the smell of the food Miriam was preparing. Elias came in from outside, carrying a large jug of water, and set it down with a grunt.

“Ah, there you are,” he said when he saw me, his voice gruff but fond. “Thought you might have slept through breakfast.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Not today, Elias. I wouldn’t miss one of Miriam’s meals for the world.”

He grinned, his weathered face creasing into a smile. “That’s what I like to hear. Now, come on, let’s get everyone fed. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

As we all gathered around the table, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for these simple moments of togetherness. There was something so comforting about the routine of sharing a meal, of being surrounded by people who cared for one another, even if they had only just met. It was a feeling I had missed for far too long, and I found myself silently thanking whatever force had brought these men to our door.

The conversation flowed easily as we ate, the disciples sharing stories of their travels and the people they had met along the way. Jesus, though mostly quiet, listened intently, occasionally offering a word of wisdom or encouragement that seemed to resonate deeply with everyone at the table. There was a lightness in the air, a sense of shared purpose that made the morning feel almost sacred.

As the meal began to wind down, I noticed that Andrew, the disciple I had exchanged glances with the night before, was sitting quietly at the end of the table, his gaze distant as if lost in thought. I hesitated for a moment, then decided to approach him, curious about the man who had captured my attention so unexpectedly.

“Good morning,” I said as I sat down beside him, offering a small smile. “You seem deep in thought.”

He looked up, startled out of his reverie, and returned my smile with one of his own. “Good morning,” he replied, his voice warm. “Yes, I suppose I am. It’s hard not to be, in the presence of such wisdom.”

I nodded, understanding what he meant. There was something about Jesus that drew people in, that made them reflect on their own lives and choices in a way that felt both gentle and profound.

“I’ve been thinking a lot too,” I admitted, my voice quiet. “About everything that’s happened, and about where I’m meant to go from here.”

Andrew’s expression softened, and he leaned in slightly, as if to make sure I knew he was listening. “And what have you decided?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I tried to put my thoughts into words. “I’m not sure yet. It’s all so new to me… this place, these people. It’s hard to know what’s right, what path I should take.”

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “I understand. But I think you’re stronger than you realize. You’ve already come so far, and you’ve done so much good. Maybe the path isn’t as unclear as you think.”

His words were comforting, and I felt a small spark of hope light up within me. Perhaps he was right—perhaps I had been so focused on the uncertainty that I had forgotten to see the progress I had already made.

Before I could respond, a voice from across the room called out, breaking the quiet moment between us. It was John, one of the other disciples, who seemed to be in high spirits this morning.

“Andrew! Are you going to sit there all day, or are you going to help with the packing?” he teased, a playful grin on his face.

Andrew laughed, the sound light and easy. “All right, all right, I’m coming!” he called back, giving me an apologetic look as he stood up. “Duty calls, I suppose.”

I smiled, nodding in understanding. “Thank you for the conversation, Andrew. It was… nice.”

He returned my smile, a hint of something more in his eyes. “The pleasure was mine. Perhaps we’ll have another chance to talk later.”

With that, he turned and made his way over to where John was waiting, leaving me to my thoughts once more. As I watched him go, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of connection to this man I had only just met. There was something about him that made me feel… seen, in a way I hadn’t in a long time.

The rest of the morning passed quickly, the house buzzing with activity as the disciples prepared to continue their journey. I helped where I could, gathering blankets and filling water jugs, making sure everyone had what they needed for the road ahead. It was a busy, bustling scene, but there was a sense of quiet joy in the air, a feeling of purpose that seemed to drive everyone forward.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting warm light over the small courtyard outside, I found myself pausing for a moment, taking it all in. The sounds of laughter and conversation, the sight of these men—so different from one another, yet united by a common goal—working together in harmony, the feeling of being part of something greater than myself… it was all so overwhelming, and yet so beautiful.

Finally, when everything was ready, Jesus gathered His disciples together, speaking softly to them as they prepared to leave. There was a sense of reverence in the air as they listened to Him, their faces filled with a quiet determination.

Elias and Miriam stood nearby, watching with expressions of pride and respect. I joined them, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for these two people who had taken me in without question, who had given me a place to belong.

As the disciples began to file out of the courtyard, heading towards the road that would take them to their next destination, Jesus paused and turned back to us. His gaze was warm, filled with a kindness that seemed to see right through to the heart.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” He said, His voice gentle. “You have opened your home to us, and for that, we are deeply grateful.”

Elias nodded, his voice thick with emotion. “It was our honor, Rabbi. May God bless you and keep you on your journey.”

Jesus smiled, a small, peaceful smile that seemed to light up the entire courtyard. “And may He bless you as well. Until we meet again.”

I expected Him to turn and leave with the others, but instead, Jesus held my gaze, His expression thoughtful. There was something in His eyes, something that seemed to speak directly to my soul, as if He could see every doubt, every fear, and every hope I held within me.

“Will you join us?” He asked, His voice calm but carrying a weight that made my heart skip a beat.

I blinked, taken aback by the question. “Join you?”

“Yes,” He replied, nodding gently. “There is a place for you with us, if you wish it. You have a gift, one that could bring healing and hope to many. The path we walk is not an easy one, but it is filled with purpose. If you choose to walk it with us, you will never walk alone.”

The weight of His words settled over me like a heavy blanket, both comforting and overwhelming. My heart raced as I tried to process what He was offering. A part of me felt drawn to it, to the idea of traveling with these men who seemed so sure of their purpose, who had found a way to serve something greater than themselves. But another part of me hesitated, unsure if I was ready to leave behind the life I had built here, the people I had grown to love.

I glanced over at Elias and Miriam, searching their faces for some kind of guidance. They were watching me closely, their expressions a mix of pride, concern, and understanding. Miriam gave me a small nod, her eyes filled with encouragement, while Elias simply folded his arms across his chest, waiting for me to decide.

The silence stretched on, each heartbeat pounding in my ears as I weighed my options. It would be so easy to say no, to stay in the comfort of the familiar, to continue the work I had started here. But something deep within me—a small, insistent voice—urged me to take a chance, to step into the unknown and see where this new path might lead.

Finally, I met Jesus’s gaze again, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over me as I made my decision.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. Then, with more certainty, I repeated, “Yes, I will join you.”

A warm smile spread across Jesus’s face, and He reached out to gently touch my arm. “Then let us walk together.”

The decision made, a mix of fear and excitement surged through me, but beneath it all was a sense of peace—peace in knowing that I had chosen to follow a path that felt true to who I was becoming.

As we prepared to leave, I turned to Elias and Miriam, gratitude welling up in my chest. “Thank you,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

Miriam pulled me into a tight embrace, her voice choked with tears. “You’ve brought so much light into our lives, dear. Go and spread that light wherever you go.”

Elias placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. “We’ll miss you, but we know this is the right choice for you. Go with God, and know that you’ll always have a home here.”

With one last look at the place that had become my refuge, I turned and joined Jesus and His disciples as they began their journey. As we walked away from the familiar, my heart swelled with a sense of purpose, knowing that this was only the beginning of a new chapter in my life—one that would be filled with challenges, growth, and the possibility of making a difference in the world. The road ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, I felt ready to face it. Whatever lay before me, I knew I wouldn’t be facing it alone.

[femmesandhoney]

Aliza Frame wrote the following passage about Casa Amiga, a feminist organization in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico

Every day . . . people share their food and bring enough for other people to eat. Some days people cook for everyone, and other days people just bring bits and pieces that multiply into enough to feed the entire crew. It’s a bit like the story of the loaves of bread and the fish when Jesus preaches to 5,000. I rarely see people walk in with food, but somehow when mealtime comes around, people pull out dishes from home of rice or frijoles charros . . . or roasted chicken. The first day I worked, Eva shared her chicken with me. Carmen brings me pomegranates from the tree in her yard. . . . Every day I come in unprepared to get through the day without starving. . . . But these women take care of each other, and they take care of me, too. When you walk into the dining room, people get up and get you a chair, ask if you want tortillas or salsa or half of the food on their plates. I feel respected and important to them, but why? When I started working at Casa Amiga, I didn’t expect people to offer me free food or even notice if I ate or not. . . . In previous jobs in the U.S., I’ve been mostly expected to fend for myself. . . . Even last summer when I worked at a community center where the people were all very respectful and sweet, if I didn’t bring lunch, I had to go out and buy something. No one thought to bring food for other people or eat potluck-style. So at Casa Amiga the routine surprised me, and I felt guilty until recently about eating their food; [butnow] I have stopped feeling guilty and started participating in the lunchtime ritual of everyone bringing something small to share. . . . So now I feel like part of a community of women who respect each other, and it makes me feel so content and secure. Isn’t that funny? A little thing like sharing lunch can bring women together, empower them individually and as a group, and build real commitment between them. . . . This atmosphere is very different from the one I’m used to in the U.S.

Feminist Community Building in Ciudad Juárez by Joanna Swanger

[anxiousotters]

5 things I like to write about

All my love to @cookiemonsterv3 for the tag!!

1. Redemption - I really like looking at villains or just antagonistic characters and asking “Why did you do it?” and “If things were different, would you have made different choices?”. Obviously I don’t think bad decisions should be excused, but far too often I see villains/ antagonists either A) sacrifice themselves to absolve them of the consequences of their actions or B) apologize for their actions but never do anything further. I love writing villains/ antagonists who make the choice to apologize, take accountability for their actions and own them, and try to reconcile and do better for their communities. I like when characters choose to do the hard work of acknowledging their faults and becoming better people, proving it’s possible to come back (can you tell I really want Pride and Prejudice from Mr. Darcy’s POV?)

2. Religion/ Culture - I love exploring religion or religion-equivalents, how they function, and how characters interact with their religion, or religious around them that they’re not members of. In a similar vein, I love writing about culture and when a fictional culture isn’t completely fleshed out or has room for additions, I love adding little bits of my own culture to it (eg. detailing mandalorian formal tunics with Celtic embroidery). I also love writing cultural clashes, like what happens when two opposing cultures are forced to share space with each other. I just like it when characters learn that the other culture is full of different (but still important) things, and both sides learn to appreciate the other

3. Banter - who doesn’t love a good bit of banter? Honestly I don’t think writing banter is my strongest suit, but I love it anyways, especially sibling banter. As one of four kids with an additional gaggle of 30+ cousins, I really write how I think me and my siblings/ cousins would interact (or have interacted in the past) when I write banter. It always makes me giggle, and I love giving my characters siblings/ friends who are as close as siblings for this reason. I also love the tension and excitement that comes with writing romantic banter, especially if the characters aren’t together yet. Delicious stuff

4. Forged Family - you’ve seen found family, this is the same dish but with a hint of forced proximity and trauma. I like writing about found family where the family bonds form because the characters have suffered so much together and still choose to protect and love each other like family. The sentiment is very “I’m stuck with you, but I’d also choose to love you in every lifetime”

5. Rivals to Lovers - in same vein as banter, but different. I like a good conflict, I like the tension, I like the slow build/ melting of ice that comes with rivals to lovers. Specifically I like it best when the conflict comes from external/ cultural reasons and not miscommunication. I just think it’s juicer when the rivals actually have to learn to get along because they’re different in ways that cause friction, rather than they’re not having an important conversation that could solve everything. Almost all of my favourite ships are rivals to lovers, and I like to put the ones that aren’t into situations where they are (oops)

No pressure tags: @thenookspace, @firefly-fez, @maraliga, @ferretrade and anyone else who wants to play!!

[wammyhoe]

Happy birthday, Mello

Summary: Baking a cake as birthday present for Mello sounded like an easy task. After you sent him (much against his will) to find some inexistent products at your local store, you find out there are more than a milion ways this could go wrong.

A/N: Comedy / romance / female!reader / established relationship /

--

You snuggled closer to Mello. He brushed his lips on your hair. His voice was peaceful as he read to you. You caressed his chest idly, enjoying the faint, relaxed smile on his face. 

The snow tapping your window eased you as much as the softwood cracks at the room's fireplace. There was just a tiny problem: you craved more hot chocolate. You motioned up, but Mello held you tighter in response. 

“Where are you going?”

“I'm out of chocolate, I’m getting a little more. You want some too?” 

Mello hummed. “Yeah, but I’ll go.” 

You turned, smiling teasingly. “Ooh, feeling a little attentive today, huh?”

Mello gives out a small laugh. “You think that’s what it is? I just want my chocolate to be drinkable. You always make it too hot,” he retorted with the same playful teasing tone.

You watched him as he left, which later led your eyes to the wall calendar. His birthday was three days away. You gasped at the sudden realization that you haven't prepared anything yet.

It wasn’t difficult to pick something for Mello. You knew him better than anyone. You had been dating since the dreadful Kira days, and you've been through thick and thin together. This year, however, you want to gift him something different. Something meaningful. Special.

The wooden floor cracked again when Mello came back with two steaming cups. He carefully gave one to you and placed the other on the nearby table. 

“Now, where were we?” he asked once you were leaning comfortably on him, his chin brushed on your head as he spoke.  

"What bloody man is that?" you answered trying to act the part, which earned you a soft laugh.

“Oh, that’s right. What bloody man is that?...” he continued. Yet, this time you stopped listening.

This year's gift needed to communicate how important he was to you. Perhaps, you could make something for him. Yes! That was it! A handmade gift would do!

****

After a day –and several hours of youtube videos and wandering Pinterest–you decided that baking him a cake was the top option. It was thoughtful and romantic, and you could add that skincare complete-set he was looking at in the store the other day. 

Now the hard part of this would be how to take Mello out of the house for almost half a day so you could not only bake and decorate a two-floored goddamn cake but wrap the gift and buy other stuff you might need.

It then occurred to you that sending him to buy something that he couldn't find would do just nicely. That night at dinner, you let out the bomb.

December 12th, 6:45 pm, at your shared home.

“Babe,” you called.

Mello raised his gaze from his pasta dish as he kept rolling it with the fork.

“Could you get something for me after dinner?” 

“What do you need?” 

“Just some feminine stuff,” you said. Could someone like Mello fall into this trap? Oh, maybe you were a bit foolish.

He quirked a brow. “Pads?” Mello guessed. You shock your head. 

“No. It’s the hmm… the new… rose coochie douche.” 

You have to bite your tongue so as not to laugh at his face. Your boyfriend stares at you for a flat second before placing the fork down.

“What the fuck is that?” 

“It’s a new special soap for the genital area!” 

“Is it different from the one you already have?" He asked with a sceptical look.

"Yes."

"How is it different?"

Oh no, he wasn’t buying it. 

“D-Do you want the explanation now that we’re eating?!” 

“I’m pretty hard to gross out.”

True, he did behead someone once.

“God, Mello! It's just a bar of soap! come on please, I’m about to be on my days and it'd be nice to have it. Is supposed to help with chafing,” you said the last part as if it embarrassed you. 

He sighed, staring dead into your eyes with a look you only saw him use when trying to deduce something back in his mafia boss days, and you gave him your best puppy eyes in response.

“Fine. But I swear to god if you’re sending me looking for something that doesn’t exist…”

“No, I promise! I know it has a weird name but it’s real. They only sell it at the Walmart by the old green tavern.”

“Across the city?!” he hushed-screamed, his expression falling over in shock. 

“Yes,” your voice came out shaky and little, maybe with a hint of questioning tone. 

Mello took a deep breath, brushing his hair with one hand, pushing the bangs out of his forehead in that way you found adorable. 

“And you need it to deal with chafing,” Mello said, maybe reasoning out loud he wasn't that much of a dick so as not to help you with that.

“Yes.” 

A fraction of a second –that felt like two eternities– passed before he reluctantly indulged you.

“Fine.” 

December 12th, 10:45 pm, at your shared home.

Mello left several hours ago and hadn’t come back yet. You’d be worried if he wasn’t who he was, and if you weren’t dealing with a whole fucking two-floored velvet cake on your own. 

Overall, things weren’t going too badly. You bought the base (a black plate with a stick of the same colour to stabilize the cake) and made the topping which was saved in the freezer. 

The only thing left was preparing the mix. After baking it, you could add the topping, decorate it, and you'd still have enough time to hide it in the fridge for tomorrow. 

December 12th, 10:45 pm, at Walmart.

“I’m sorry sir, could you repeat once again what is it that you’re looking for?” 

Mello was trying, trying with all his might not to murder someone right there and then. He gritted his teeth.

“Rose coochie douche. It’s supposed to be a new soap for intimate female care.”

Both cashiers exchanged a look, their mouths folded in an attempt to hold the laughter. Mello sighed, defeated and fed up.

“It doesn’t exist, does it?” One of them just couldn’t hold it any longer and slapped her hand over her mouth after she snorted. 

“Sir, I wouldn't know… but if it does exist we don’t sell it here.” the other said forcing down a smile, her cheekbones turning pink. 

Unbelievable. He had been stocked in the traffic for hours only to have two strangers mock him at fucking Walmart because you sent him on a prank trip.

“Never mind.” Mello spat under his breath.

 He adjusted his jacket's neck when he stepped outside. As he walked to his car, he pulled out his phone pondering whether or not to call you. He stared at the screen for a few seconds before deciding he wasn't giving you the satisfaction. 

A boy in a motorbike honked, startling him. Mello jumped off of the parking spot, remembering he still hadn't bought the tires to fix his own. The store was a few blocks ahead. It was open twenty-four-seven.

Mello glanced at his phone once more. It was late, but if got them now, he wouldn’t have anything to do tomorrow, therefore, he’d be able to spend his whole birthday at home.

His birthday. 

Ever since he was a kid those things seemed stupid. Why bother celebrating something so useless? it wasn’t like anyone cared anyway. Those sorts of things, the ones related to family and cheering someone for existing were matters he found troublesome to process, as he was convinced his life wasn't worth celebrating. 

Luckily for him, he found you, and even if he still wasn’t fully convinced his existence was worth as much as you claimed, Mello sure didn’t consider celebrating his birthday useless anymore. 

Before he could stop himself, he was dumbly smiling at the memory of how you practically forced a few mafia junks to sing happy birthday to him that one time. 

Fuck. 

He couldn’t stay mad at you, could he?

December 12th, 11:30 pm, at your shared home.

The fucking cake wasn’t puffing. The mix was still flat and bubbling, but it had been almost an hour in the oven! something must be wrong, but you couldn’t tell what. You followed the recipe step by step. Maybe you poured in too much red colourant? Oh God, if Mello arrived before you finished, how were you gonna explain this? 

Wait! maybe if you increased the power of the oven, the mixture would bake faster! 

December 12th, 11:52 pm, at your shared home.

As soon as Mello opened the door, the smell of burnt and smoke hit his nose, triggering an alarm signal in his brain that became raw panic when he heard you screaming. 

Mello darted like a shot arrow towards the living room. He grabbed the emergency extinguisher before running to the kitchen, firing it as soon as he saw the flames coming out of the oven before you. 

You gasped when the cold hit your side. The next thing you heard was the empty hit of metal on the floor. Mello pulled you to him.

“Hey, look at me!" he demanded, shaking you a bit. Your eyes were stuck on the over. Mello forced you to face him. "Look at me! Are you okay?!” 

Mello was frantically pulling you close to him, his hands wandering your face, neck and arms as he searched for any wound. The pain of your skin being calcined was one of the things he would never want you to experience. 

“I’m okay,” you said between coughs, as you reached for the window, tearing it open.

“What the hell were you doing?!” Mello shrieked, worry staining his voice. 

Now that the smoke was gone, you could see the remains of burned cake covered with foam. You felt like crying. 

“Baking…” you whispered, trying to reach the stove. Mello didn’t let you. 

“Baking? Is this why you sent me finding some stupid made-up product?! so you could bake?! Do you have any idea of what time it is?” His voice raised more with every question. It held a certain denigrating tone. 

“This could've gone out of control!” he yelled. 

“I didn’t think… I was just trying… I–” you sighed.

Your trembling knees gave out, and you allowed your weight to go limp, propelling Mello to the floor with you slowly. 

“I just wanted to bake the cake for your birthday. I have never given you anything handmade. I thought it was a good idea." you muttered, flooded with self-disappointment, unable to look at him. You snickered. "How stupid, right? I have never done this before, yet somehow I thought I could manage to do it in a few hours."

You roughly tossed the dishcloth you’d been holding onto the floor. 

” I wanted it to be a surprise. Sorry for the jump scare. Go to sleep, babe. I'll clean this out," you said. Tiredness crept into your tone.

Mello gaped. So that’s why you were acting funny the whole morning. That’s why you sent him on a trip to find god knows what vagina soap. 

Mello snorted.

Ever since he met you you’ve always found new ways of making him feel special. His chest felt tight with undeniable affection. 

"Well, it did surprise me." His voice carried such a sudden fondness it made you look at him. "You sure you're okay?"

You nodded.

 Mello held your chin. “Good,” he hesitated before continuing, “Sorry I yelled at you. I panicked.” 

“It’s fine, I would have too. Look at that mess. There’s nothing left to save. At least it wasn't your only gift.”

He gave you an inquisitive look.

“I got you a few more presents. This was going to be the extra. I wanted it to be special.”

Mello looked at you lovingly, all the scare and past anger long forgotten.

"I have my best present right here." 

His lips captured your mouth shortly after, and the kiss son became heated. The kitchen clock chimes at twelve. December 13th. You pulled away, smiling.

“Happy birthday Mello.” 

[the-new-kiddo-on-the-block]

Heyo guys!

Since my friend made a post about it, I figured I should make a separate post of it as well that could hopefully grab the attention of more of you out there. Especially since it's now not only become a recurrent issue for myself, but millions others like me; whose voices and pleas for help are often met with silence and no aid when it's needed more than ever.

My friend made this with the hopes it would get the attention of a lot of people. And the few that have so far responded, with boosting my signal, it's truly appreciated.

So, I figured I'd best give my story here.

For those who know me, they know that I've been through this before, not that long ago. For those that don't:

This isn't my first rodeo with my dad. This isn't his first offense, and I doubt it'll be his last. But, even my boyfriend commented that it's really like I'm Cinderella.

Which, would make my family Lady Tremaine and her daughters, Anastasia and Drizella.

Surprised?

Yeah, not the most fun people to have in your life as family, let alone be analogous to your own.

But, for at least my brother on the matter, he doesn't mean to intentionally be cruel- if anything, he is just trying to survive from becoming the next target. Which, I get entirely. I oftentimes do the same for when a fight breaks out between my bio father and my stepmom.

But, that's besides the point-- the fact that they are even akin to that family dynamic is absolutely atrocious.

I'm often seen as a black sheep in my nuclear family- a dark horse, a scapegoat, pariah, outcast; hell, I'm almost synonymous to fucking Bruno Madrigal from Encanto, with a little bit of even Luisa for that matter with how bad her anxiety is.

Sure, that sounds pretty awful, but that's like, a surface-level perspective of who I am and what I've been through. And I'm not gonna give you my whole life story here, but, as my grandma would always famously say:

So, here are the said facts (bullets are Bruno related, indents are Cinderella)-

People used to see me as a gifted child when I was little, y'know? Like, my talents had no bounds. My way of being so empathetic and friendly to even the most awkward stranger was renowned by my extended family. I was awkward with communication, and often was very blunt but honest when talking to people, but I was a happy kid. And it's not like I'm not seen for my talents now, but they're brushed to the side more now as an adult because "you can't be living in a fantasy".

Since my dad and stepmom started living together, I've been made to become the maid of the house, doing most chores because the boys won't do it and my stepmom is incapable of handling all the chores and dishes on her own, so she's dumped most things onto me as a "way of covering for part of your rent". Which, I still have to pay upwards of 660-880 a month for. For one small room and a bathroom. For wifi use. And I still have other bills to pay, like for my car, insurance, credit cards, and stuff like that.

It wasn't until I was starting in my teens that my dad saw me very differently. I would often lie to try and keep the peace, because I feared that telling the truth would only hurt everyone more.

I started failing in math; I never got a grade higher than a C-average after sixth grade, because the teacher that year not only made me look like an idiot, but several times painted me as a villain and treated me like I was evil. Simply for standing up for myself amongst a group of classmates who would often bully me

I have little to no privacy in my own room. The only time I do is when I sleep, and that's even temporary at best. My father will routinely inspect my room and if it's not meeting his standards, he has me clean it or threatens kicking me out onto the street because he won't let me live in this house if I can't "do what I am required to do in order to keep living here" shit I wish I actually wish I had recorded him saying fr

He's taken off my door several times in the past as a punishment for not "adhering to his rules"- not okay as a teenager, even more not okay as a fucking twenty-four year old adult

(literal screenshots from conversations with my dad below)

My bio dad started seeing me less as an honest and good person, because during my sixth grade years and beyond I'd struggle with being honest with myself, let alone my parents, about my personal and educational issues.

I've had to be the one to call out when things aren't right, and be shut down for it. I've been the one to call out my family's bullshit, only to get side-swept with the realization my perception of how they treat me is cuz they do believe something is inherently wrong with me for retaliating.

I'm often accused of mishearing things- like, my parents will say one thing, and then the next day, or weeks or months later, when I repeat that statement, they go and say "Oh, I never said that."

I've walked out of my parents' lives once. It only lasted two weeks, but I did have to take a step back from it all. Because I could see what it was doing to everyone in my family. And I love my family, despite their shit. But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna walk out again- in fact, I'm working on a way to do so.

I relate more to pets and small children and even teens than I do older people.

I still have anxieties and fears over my talents and what I'm capable of, thinking I'm not good enough or that it's just the same old thing. The difference is I know it's not, and I know I'm worth more than this.

I have always liked the color green, and it was always a more mysterious color more than an evil or menacing color.

I often have had foresight of future events and get deja by when they do happen. Though, other times I just notice things going awry and I try to warn others of like, a possibility that they don't want to accept.

I lost friends and people who I actually enjoyed being around because of how I was growing up, and it was until I became an adult that part of it wasn't even my fault. A lot of the kids noticed my parents and didn't want to be around that kind of behavior with adults, because they could sense what I couldn't at the time, which was that my parents' behavior towards me was absolutely uncalled for, and rather controlling.

I was only recently properly diagnosed with Autistic Spectrum Disorder and ADHD; but before then, as an adult, I had more difficulty talking. Difficulty expressing how I felt. Trouble with finances. Being in the right headspace. Being able to take a step back and be like "whoa, now hold on- pointing fingers at me is only going to point three right back at you, let's not assume shit here". And it took a lot of support from my support systems and my boyfriend- @constant-state-of-self-discovery - to get a truly more accurate diagnosis. Cuz I've had three different diagnoses over the years, with the third being my most accurate one but I digress

I have echolalia and repeat funny phrases, hum music, etc.

When my brother was born - and I hate to use this comparison, but - almost immediately he became the Golden Child of the family dynamic. I was ten when he was born- and yeah, that's unfair for a baby, toddler, and little kid. But flash forward to when he's a bigger kid, when he's in his pre-teen stage and now a fourteen year old, who's gotten more educational advantages than I was ever offered or even given when asked. Who has had more positive experiences with his parents than I ever did. Who got the chance to actually go to the highschool he wanted to without having to worry about who I was really zoned for. Who is getting to work on his passion and talents. Yeah, that's totally not favoritism there.

I draw. I write. I legitimately can see myself voice acting one day.

I have often proved my family members both right and wrong about things in their lives, but I'm still the bad guy. Interesting how that works.

--------

See, these are the facts that just have me relating to just Bruno and Cinderella alone, with how my life is. There's plenty of other shit to add on about my stuff, but that's enough dirty laundry to get the ball rolling.

The fact of the matter is this: I cannot live in such a place like this anymore. And if anyone can help, I'd seriously appreciate whatever cash, boosting, reblogging, sharing that can be done.

I'm tired of living a life like this. I want to move forward. I want to start my next chapter, away from abuse.

And I'm really hopeful for the first time ever that something good might come out of this.

(thank you @savythenillerwaffer , @nystiaa , @oswinunknown , and @anne-of-crows for reblogging along with the others who have spread the word.)

[tblsomedoodles]

Plz tell me about George. I don't think we ever had an explanation for George

I have talked about him before, but it's been a while and i'm always down to talk about George! : ) He's had a few different versions (and his own au that i did nothing with. It is one of the early stops in Donnieverse though, so there's that.) but the i settled on now is done in such a way that

But George is my IRL turtle if he got mutated in Rise. IRL George is an Eastern Painted Turtle that my family has had for...21 years i believe. (i was little when we got him so i'm not entirely sure the age.)

(i know i've shared this photo before, but he's hard to photograph and this is the best one i've ever gotten.)

Character George is a 21 year old (or he is post krang) Mutated Eastern Painted Turtle that Draxum accidentally mutated six years before the cannon boys were created. He works in the Hidden City as a mechanic (and general handy-turtle when no one has a car for him to fix.)

He's Morgan's neighbor and tends to keep an eye out for them since Morgan doesn't exactly have anyone else. I think Morgan might have a summer job running customer service at his shop since communicating with clients is often hard for him since the only speach he's capable of is turtle noises like chirps and hisses. (he knows sign language but doesn't use it much since his version is altered and there's not a lot of clients that can understand it. If he has to communicate himself, he usually just writes it down quickly in a small pocket notebook.)

He is very protective of those he sees as family or friends, though he doesn't really have many. (morgan is counted as one of those. the cannon boys would be too if he ever gets the chance to meet them.)

He also loves cars. just absolutely adores them. He loves working on and fixing them up. As a result, he's almost always covered in oil or grease of some sort.

I wrote up a bit more on his backstory too, but it's long so i'm putting it under a break for those that want to keep reading.

Draxum had acquired a baby painted turtle from a human to study to figure out if turtles would be a good mutation base. He left bitty, unmutated George alone on a table that had like a petri dish of unfinished mutagen, and George got into it before Draxum could turn back around.

Because the mutagen was incomplete, his mutation isn't the same as the boys, and is a little more turtle like than they are. The main obvious differences being that he, like unmutated turtles, has no voicebox, and he has a tail.

Draxum never quite realized he had human-like intelegence. He knew he was smarter than an average turtle but baby George was pretty scared of him and, as a result, never did anything around Draxum that could have clued him in on how smart his accidental creation was. (i don't think baby george intentionally hid his intelegence, he was just too scared to act on what he understood if Drax was around.) Draxum did spend time trying to fix the missing voicebox 'issue' but was never able to. It left some surgical scars around his neck that present day George keeps covered.

He escaped Draxum's lab the day Lou blew it up (In his specific au, he escaped with baby Raph and baby Donnie, but otherwise he escapes alone) and ends up loose in the hidden city.

After a bit an old Mechanic yokai finds and helps him, eventually taking him in and teaching him how to fix cars. I think the yokai gifted him the garage/shop of his, either when he retired and went to live in hidden city Florida, or died of old age. Either way he ends up with the garage/shop that is his pride and joy. He loves that shop.

Anyways, that's about it! That's my George! He can now be found floating around the Hidden City in all my aus b/c I can put him there! Idk if he ever meets the cannon boys in any of them (maybe Seer Twins b/c of Donnie Friend-adopting Morgan) but he's there. : )

Thank you!

[greensagephase]

Since I started reading Nonviolent Communication, I got to know more about Mexican foodies. I’m from Belgium so we don’t have that many fancy things food and drink wise (or I’m just used to having them lol idk), so when I was reading your fic I kept on thinking what everything would taste like and how you prepare/eat these drinks and dishes. I also love discovering new things, so I was REALLY curious lmao.

Today was a really long day at work and ugh, it’s really freaking cold here so I decided to make café de olla. I mean, I like coffee a lot but this- omg. I LOVE THIS SO MUCH WTF SO THANK YOU FOR INCLUDING THESE THINGS IN YOUR STORY!!!! IT’S LIKE A HUG IN A MUG LOL 😭

Literally my face when I took a sip HAHA

↓ ↓ ↓

Omg, Luna!!!! I'm so happy you enjoy learning about the different dishes and drinks I've included in the story! I love having the opportunity to include a little bit about my culture and it's really amazing to see that you and one other reader has tried some of the food items mentioned! I remember there was someone who tried canelita a little while back and they really liked it! It just makes my heart so so happy!! 🥹

I'm glad you've tried it and that you loved it!! It really is like a hug in a mug and if you have pan dulce!!!? Even better!! 💕💕 I love coffee, like a lot, which is a reason why I've included coffee in the story so much (I'm lowkey wondering right now if there's one chapter in which I haven't brought up coffee somehow lol) but café de olla... IT HITS DIFFERENT!!!! Especially after a long and cold day!!! So, so happy you loved it and hopefully you can get your hands on some pan dulce so you can try that combo because!!! It's so good!! Thank you for sharing with me that you've tried café de olla, Luna!! This made me so happy!!💕

-Alondra