#vegetarian adaptable

[omnivorescookbook]

Sichuan Dry Fried Green Beans (干煸四季豆) Sichuan dry fried green beans feature blistered green beans tossed with a savory aromatic sauce, making this dish too good to pass up!

Recipe: https://omnivorescookbook.com/szechuan-dry-fried-green-beans/

[analog-autistic]

why is it so rare to enjoy vanilla rainworld, downpour, and the watcher???? why does nobody else seem to genuinely love all three

[sweetcherryslim]

Fall Chopped Salad with Spinach, Butternut Squash, Apples & Cheddar. - 185 kcal/5g protein

Servings: 8 - 185 kcal/5g protein per 1.25 cup serving

1 small (1 1/2 pounds) butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch dice (about 4 cups)

2 cloves garlic, minced

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided

½ teaspoon salt, divided

½ teaspoon ground pepper, divided

2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1 teaspoon maple syrup

2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

8 cups packed baby spinach, roughly chopped

1 medium Honeycrisp apple, diced

½ cup diced sharp Cheddar cheese

½ cup toasted chopped pecans

Stir squash, garlic, 1 tablespoon oil, 1/4 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper together in a large bowl. Spread on a large rimmed baking sheet and roast, stirring once, until tender, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, whisk the remaining 2 tablespoons oil, vinegar, maple syrup, mustard and the remaining 1/4 teaspoon each salt and pepper in the large bowl. Add spinach, the roasted squash, apples, cheese and pecans. Toss to coat.

[sniffanimal]

Donnie's Bangin' Breakfast Sandwich Template Recipe

Every morning I make these sandwiches for me and my coworker/roommate/carpool before we go to work and they're so good they're literally the best breakfast sandwiches I've ever had. The best part about my recipe is that I consider it a living document of sorts, and that I can swap elements in and out as I please. I figured I would type up my recipe because it really isn't scary making your own breakfast sandwiches and you don't need one of those annoying special little griddles for it either. Ingredients and my workflow steps below the cut!

Ingredients I currently use (enough for 2 sandwiches!) - 2 english muffins, today I used whole wheat, but I want to make my own sometime - 1 egg - 2 sausage patties (ive made my own in the past, this one is from frozen), plant based ones also go pretty hard - 2 slices canadian bacon (or regular bacon or bac'n, whathave you) - spinach - chipotle mayo (homemade or otherwise, I've also used thousand island or just kewpie mayo) - sour cream - everything bagel seasoning (or really any spices you like in your eggs) - 2 slices of cheese of choice (i like cheddar, my roomie likes pepper jack) - butter General instructions: 1. Split muffins with a fork to maintain the internal texture better than with a knife. Butter and toast to 3/4 desired toastiness. 2. Air fry sausage patties to the specific needs of the patties you're using. Mine currently are great at 400f for 7 minutes. 3 minutes from the end I put the canadian bacon in there too. 3. Whisk an egg with a dollop of sour cream and everything bagel seasoning or other seasonings. Salt and pepper is also just fine! Sometimes I put in a little MSG or green onions and tomato or pepper flakes! 4. Fry the egg on the stove like an omelette, flat without scrambling, and depending on how you really like your eggs you can either flip it and cook both sides or cover with a lid and let steam cook the top. 5. If you have a toaster oven, put the cheese on one half of the english muffins and toast a bit more to melt. Otherwise, you can just put the cheese on the sandwich and let the heat of it melt it. 6. Assemble as desired, this is the contents I have on mine: chipotle mayo on one slice of muffin and cheese on the other, spinach leaves, a slice of the egg folded over, sausage, and canadian bacon. 7. These travel decently well for lunch as well, I recommend wrapping it in foil and putting in a tupperware to keep it safe and warm. To reheat, I put it on a plate or paper towel, split it open between the egg and sausage, and microwave for 30 seconds before reuniting the halves.

The whole process takes about 15 minutes, and whenever I have down time waiting for an element to cook, I can make my coffee or take my meds or whatever else I need to do in the morning.

[charlie-rulerofhell]

guys, my sister gave me the sweetest gift ever today — a bohemian cooking book. it even has fucking quark and poppy kolaches in it! so i can now lure me some hungry henrys into my flat hehe.

anyway, you know what that means? the pack will have to have a feast some time soon! janosh will have a lot of work on his hands. (well, as soon as they reunite, that is 😔)

[vydumaj]

sometimes I feel like I went to elementary school in like the 1970s in comparison to my 10 years ish younger cousins 😹

since I didn’t eat pork I very often got special food since pork was the most common meat they’d serve at school, which meant I always got my food last and I couldn’t ask for the school kitchen staff to give me less (they hardly ever did that when people asked to, though). the most common replacement was soy sausages which are absolutely gross imo and I still can’t eat them, and bc I got my food last teachers kept a hawk eye on me to make sure I finished, and I was never allowed to leave before finishing, no matter how bad the food tasted and even though I ate a lot of it…I was called immature and childish and spoiled for not wanting to eat, and while my classmates finished their food (which they got earlier and I assume was better tasting since the recipes were adapted for pork) and played outside I always had to sit with teachers watching over me until the older students came…

apparently this is not a thing at all anymore, like 10-15 years later, my aunts and uncles were shocked I had to go through what they did as kids too when I’m closer in age to their children

[goldammerchen]

im sorry im sorry imsorry im sorrr but we gotta be cautious around anyone too much into military* (even if isn't that military or that period), AND also if anyone was a little too much into traditionality! going farther than just celebrating culture to a more malicious twist.

i mean, the fandom has proved stupid enough—ignores obvious shit from someone that isn't even trying to hide—that i don't think that's too crazy to imagine that someone could start with innocuos things and then frog-boiling-in-water to "retvrn" bullshitery, racism, anti-immigration and white supremacy 😬

*perhaps i'd would have been more suspicious of hima's first storyline if i was older ha-ha-ha *cough attack*... if i was older back then maybe i wouldn't have become a fan, maybe: i partially had to learn to look into this shit bc of being in the fandom...

[hobbit-kitchen]

Make Ahead Warm Sandwiches

based on this recipe from Anna/ Cooking the Books on YouTube.

Special Items:

Foil or waxed paper wrappers, large food storage bag, toaster oven or other reheating device

Ingredients:

Sandwich buns of choice (approx. 6 or more)

Deli meat or meat substitute of choice, any flavor, at least 12 oz, gently blotted with paper towel or a clean kitchen towel to remove excess moisture

Cheese slices/vegan cheese substitute of choice, any flavor, approx. 6 pieces

Optional toppings: mayonnaise, mustard, hot sauce, etc., 1-2 teaspoons per sandwich, or to taste

Assembly:

On a piece of waxed paper or foil, place the bottom of the sandwich bun. Spread with topping(s) as desired.

Then, add blotted meat/meat substitute of choice, 1-3 slices, or to taste.

On top of that, add 1 slice of cheese/vegan cheese, or to taste.

Spread the inside of the top bun with topping(s) of choice. Then, place it on top to close the sandwich.

Cover the sandwich well with foil or waxed paper. Store in a resealable bag in the refrigerator or freezer until needed.

To Reheat:

Leave frozen or refrigerator-cold sandwich out while preheating the oven/toaster oven.

Preheat oven/toaster oven to 350 degrees F.

Once preheated, add the wrapped sandwich to the oven and close it.

Bake at 350 for approx. 15-20 minutes, until meat is warmed through, cheese is melted, and bread is slightly toasted.

Serve warm.

Makes approx. 4-10 sandwiches, depending on the amount of ingredients.

Multiple sandwiches may be reheated using the same method by placing wrapped sandwiches on a baking tray.

[only-jane-austen]

Soups, Stews and Chili - Vegetarian Pozole Verde Hominy Soup

With a base of tomatillos, chiles, fresh herbs, spinach, and nutty pumpkin seeds, this vegetarian pozole verde, also known as hominy soup, is a vibrant green dish.

[bibliotecativa]

Vegetarian Pozole Verde Hominy Soup This vegetarian pozole verde, or hominy soup, has a bright green base of tomatillos, chiles, fresh herbs, spinach, and nutty pumpkin seeds.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Okay I’m gonna drop an unpopular opinion here

I really

Really

Really

Hate the Jason and Damian met in the league and have a close brotherly relationship

I honestly think it detracts from BOTH of their development and makes both the characters a lot more 2D and boring.

And also I think it disrespects my GIRL Stephanie brown. Bc that close personal bickering, anything goes sibling shit? Yeah that’s Damian and Steph all the way.

And yeah I tend to credit Dick Grayson (bc he’s my boy) for a lot of the Growth Damian goes through. But Stephanie brown and him have the funniest sibling relationship in history

And I think to have as interesting of a development as Damian has had you needed characters like Dick and Steph to be his Batman and Batgirl.

Dick who I think we can all agree is objectively the least violent of the bats at a baseline (Richard crash out Grayson moments notwithstanding) as well as Steph. Both have angry moments of doling out justice but BOTH prefer rehabilitation methods and tend to be more mouthy and loud about their thoughts during a battle

Steph CLAWED her way up into her position, she fought for that and held on with an iron grip that left indents. She wasn’t as good as, Dick born acrobat Grayson, Barbara prodigy Gordon and Tim genius Drake. So she worked her ass off and FORCED people to pay attention to her and got good enough that she matches the rest of the bats on the field.

Dick HAS the experience of working with difficult cases. He’s lead teams his age filled with drama, infighting and death successfully, he’s trained kids younger than him successfully on panel.

He’s canonically a very adaptable teacher, who has strength in meeting you where you’re at and getting you to move to where you want to be.

Both these things helped Damian exponentially

Now let me be so clear.

Damian did the work.

Damian put in the blood, sweat and tears into changing his beliefs and perceptions of the world. But that would not have been possible if these two didn’t at least make it known that “hey you can be the kind of person who cares and still have value and not be weak and pathetic”

Damian going vegetarian/vegan bc of his morals, Damian choosing not to kill, Damian choosing to leave Robin, Damian making choices unrelated to mantles, regrets and vengeance. Is due to the fact that he had Dick Grayson and Stephanie brown as examples (now ofc Alfred was also very very very imp but I feel like no one ignores his significance so I don’t feel the need to add him here)

And Jason?

It also imo, FUCK UP JAYS DEVELOPMENT.

Bc if Jason could be this kind, empathic older sibling to Damian? WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK WAS HE DOING WHEN HE FIRST CAME TO GOTHAM? the way he treated the bats and the rogues gallery? Slaughtering all of blackgate to end up in Arkham, making dick watch him fall to his ‘death’.

No absolutely not

This is the ‘pit madness’ nonsense all over again

Jason had to see the world outside of Gotham and work with other people who were anti-heroes who fall into the category.

Bc Jason didn’t start out as an antihero

Jason was a full on villain with a grudge against other villains, he worked for the place he’s in. It’s bc of characters he interacted with, it’s bc of realizations he’s dealt with. It’s because he’s been a little too trigger happy in the wrong place and ended up looking at the grief he caused others and realizing he didn’t want to do that.

It gets rid of Jason realizing HE CAN work with his family.

It gets rid of Jason BECOMING a solid older brother to Tim and erases the Jason who WANTS to have a relationship with his family.

It erases all of the times he’s tried and failed and still got up and tried again

Both of them have grown bc of the people around them and I think if they had each other at that time it would’ve gone 1 of 2 ways

1) a toxic loop re-establishing bad beliefs and practices that damage both of them and leave them more resentful and stuck in their ways

2) they would’ve hated each other and tried to kill each other

In summary

-both these characters didn’t show up nice, they worked for it, don’t erase that

- don’t erase the characters that helped them grow (my girl Steph Brown being left out of conversations she started will kill me)

- Jason can have close relationships with the family im not saying he shouldn’t. I’m just saying that Jay is the cool older brother who very obviously loves you but was at college when you were a kid and now doesn’t really know how to interact with you and it’s awkward but you know you can go to him even if he isn’t your first call in most situations

- Damian was not a good person, he CHOSE to be that’s important to his growth. And with that growth came the ability to form the close connections he now has in canon. Without the growth he undergoes he wouldn’t be able to form the protective loving group of family and friends he has around him

- STOP IGNORING STEPH, I AM LITERALLY A DICK GRAYSON STAN ACCOUNT AND I AM OVERHERE TRYING TO GET CRUMBS OF MY GIRL OHMYGOD

- I would highkey love a short miniseries of Jason and Damian working together and developing a nice relationship both in and out of the masks but until we get that. I’m sticking to awkward brother that loves you but doesn’t get you at all

Also if you disagree/ have more nuanced takes on the Jay Damian sibling arc please leave in the reblogs and comments, I like hearing more nuanced takes and discussing just please don’t be a dick (hehe) about it

[rifari2037]

They talked about cultural differences?? Really??? I laughed so hard 🤣

Do they realised that air and water are different too?? That their cultural are completely opposite???

Water tribe people killed animals for food, furniture, clothes, etc. That's their culture! Air nomads don't killed animals, even a fly, for any reasons, they're vegetarian. That's their culture!!

There's nothing wrong with both cultures, but if we think about it with sense, can two people with extreme cultural differences marry and accept each other's cultures easily?

No, it won't be easy. Katara and Aang got married without any problems about cultural differences because Bryke were the writers!

Do they know that Aang/Kataang stand was aware about it and wrote this???

Do they even realise that in canon Aang doesn't really like Water Tribe culture?? Yes, that's CANON!!

Katara : Bato, it looks like home! [Bato, Katara, Sokka, and Aang file inside.] Sokka : Everything's here, even the pelts! Aang : [Sarcastically.] Yeah, nothing's cozier than dead animal skins.

Katara : [Surprised and delighted.] No way! Stewed sea prunes! Bato : Help yourself! Sokka : Dad could eat a whole barrel of these things! Aang takes a bowl of stewed sea prunes and sniffs it, but looks away in disgust and sets it to the side.

Aang : Hey everyone! Sorry I was gone so long. Katara : [Turns to face him.] Hey, Aang, I didn't notice you left. Aang : Yup, but now I'm back. [Sitting down.] Sure could go for some delicious sea prunes! Aang quickly takes some bites of sea prunes, but chokes them back up, yet he pretends to enjoy them. Katara, Bato, and Sokka look at him strangely.

Hama : I wanted to surprise you! I bought all this food today so I could fix you a big Water Tribe dinner. Of course, I can't get all the ingredients I need here, but ocean kumquats are a lot like sea prunes if you stew them long enough. Aang : [Sticking his tongue out in disgust.] Great!

Aang : [Whispering to Toph.] I'd steer clear of the sea prunes. Toph : I thought they were ocean kumquats. Aang : Close enough.

Oh, btw, An ocean kumquat is a small, round fruit often consumed in the Fire Nation. That's close enough with sea prunes, water tribe cuisine.

When Aang doesn't like water tribe cuisine, I can imagine Zuko and Katara having dinner, sharing water tribe and fire nation dishes and they enjoying it because it taste similar. 😂

Fire and water are the opposite elements, that's why they are compliment each other.

Yin and Yang shows a balance between two opposites with a portion of the opposite element in each section.

Remember what Iroh said about the elements? Let's see if fire and water don't mix together, especially for Zuko and Katara.

"Fire is the element of power..."

"...The people of the Fire Nation have desire and will, and the energy and drive to achieve what they want."

"Water is the element of change..."

"...The people of the Water Tribe are capable of adapting to many things..."

"...They have a deep sense of community and love that holds them together through anything."

Young Zuko : [Zuko is shown standing up.] You can't sacrifice an entire division like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation! How can you betray them?

Zuko and Katara would bicker and not get along well, they said?? Really??

Every time Katara is mad, Zuko just silent and listen to her. Even when they're still enemies!!

Oh, btw, Katara not 'always' threatened Zuko to kill him if he hurt Aang. It happened once. She is still mad at him not because of Aang, but because he betrayed her.

That's personal to her, she is mad not because he hurt someone else but he hurt her. I mean, if she really mad at him because of Aang, why is she connected her anger at Zuko to her mom, not Aang (again)?

And after this moment, after Katara by her own choice, forgives Zuko, do Zuko and Katara always bickering and not get along at all??? No, they're not!!

Zuko gives Katara advice, Katara listens. Katara gives Zuko advice, Zuko listens.

They reassure each other at a very important moment.

Lastly, I don't understand how Zuko and Katara, who they said would never get along, always save each other lives, even Zuko sacrifice his life to her?

[rosemarymoodboards]

Why Tucker and Sam Would’ve Made a Better Couple Not Only For Themselves But Also For Danny, and For the Entire Story

Let’s be honest: the show never really gave us space to consider Tucker and Sam as a romantic possibility. But once you actually slow down and look at the dynamics between them, it becomes really clear that not only would they have made a strong, balanced couple. They also would’ve made the story so much better.

This isn’t about forcing ships. It’s about seeing missed opportunities for character growth, emotional complexity, and real storytelling potential.

Tucker and Sam Balanced Each Other Naturally

Sam is driven, intense, and grounded in principle.

Tucker is lighthearted, confident, and emotionally intuitive.

Where Sam sees systems to challenge, Tucker sees ways to adapt and move through them.

They’re opposites not in conflict, but in harmony.

She’s earth. He’s tech. She’s activism. He’s innovation.

She can be rigid. He can be avoidant. But together? They’d challenge each other in ways that feel safe, not performative.

They Already Had Chemistry The Writing Just Didn’t Frame It That Way

In the episode 'Mystery Meat' , they have a literal ideological debate about meat vs. vegetarianism. It’s petty and hilarious, and it shows how naturally dynamic their relationship already was.

In the episode 'Attack of The Killer Garage Sale' we find out Sam is secretly rich in a scene with Tucker, not Danny.

In episode '13' Tucker tries to reinvent himself and lose his identity. It’s Sam who calls him out and grounds him again.

They had friction. Dialogue. Challenge. And trust.

The story just never let those moments be romantic, but that doesn't mean they weren’t meaningful.

Tucker Deserved Emotional Depth, And Sam Deserved to Be Seen

Tucker was constantly pushed into the “comic relief” zone.

He was smart, confident, emotionally stable, and yet, he was never allowed to lead, to grow, or to be chosen. He was there to support.

Sam, on the other hand, was flattened into “the edgy girl who secretly likes the hero.”

Instead of letting her be complex, the show locked her into a trope. Danny didn’t really see her. He just ended up with her.

Why Sam and Tucker? They saw each other.

He never tried to fix her. She never tried to shrink him. They just existed side by side, exactly the kind of foundation that makes a good romance real.

Danny Would Have Benefited From That Pairing, Too

If Sam and Tucker had a slow burn romantic arc, Danny would’ve had to do the one thing he never truly did in the show:

Look at himself.

It would’ve forced Danny to grow outside of his emotional safety net. He wouldn’t be the center of their triangle he’d be part of a trio where everyone had their own life, their own growth, and their own relationships.

Tucker x Sam would’ve freed Danny up to explore other dynamics like Valerie. Or himself. Or, better yet, his own trauma, his double life, and what it means to actually be seen when you’re split between two worlds.

It Would’ve Opened the Door to So Many B-Plots

Imagine:

-Sam and Tucker building something on their own while Danny’s off ghost fighting

-Tucker navigating the social ladder while Sam questions why he cares at all

-Sam challenging Tucker’s materialism, Tucker challenging Sam’s judgmental streak

-Actual romantic tension in the group that doesn’t rely on Danny being the center of it

Their relationship could’ve deepened the world, added real stakes, and given us a second love story that wasn’t about fantasy but about balance.

Tucker and Sam Were Already the Most Emotionally Mature Characters Compared to the Rest of Their Peers

Tucker knew who he was. Sam knew what she stood for.

They weren’t chasing popularity or validation they were already living in their truth.

That’s why their love wouldn’t have been loud or dramatic.

It would’ve been steady. Soul rooted. Safe.

The kind of love story that doesn’t scream but lasts.

Conclusion

Sam and Tucker didn’t need to “complete” each other.

They didn’t need to “fix” each other.

They just needed space to be seen as more than background characters orbiting Danny’s fantasy arc.

Their relationship wouldn’t have just been good for them it would’ve been good for the entire story.

Because love that’s built on balance, challenge, and mutual recognition?

That’s the love story we were never given but absolutely deserved!

[hoo-n-i-ki]

Cold One. (Chapter 2)

Anyone but her.

PAIRING - Volturi!Riki x Cullen!fem!reader

GENRE - Twilight AU

CHAPTER WC - 7801 (I got carried away)

WARNINGS - Vampires, graphic violence, blood, death (like a lot of it). Very plot heavy. Morally grey Riki (this is a complete work of fiction and is in no way a representation of him).

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

The throne room is silent, save for the footsteps of a messenger approaching the dais. The hooded figure kneels before the three kings. Aro, perched on his throne, eagerly extends a cold hand for the messenger to press his own against.

Excitement flickers in Aro’s eyes—then, he laughs.

“Well, well,” he muses. “Carlisle has turned another for the first time nearly a century.”

Riki, leaning against the carved stone walls with his arms crossed, finally looks up. Very little intrigues him after exactly 200 years of this life, but hopefully this is something as rousing as the Cullens’ hybrid debacle from 18 years ago.

Caius scoffs in distaste. “I assume this one will be another vegetarian?”

“If Carlisle turned them, he must believe they’ll adapt to his way of life,” Jane says simply from the side, youthful face as stony as ever.

“Pity. Setting up yet another for an eternity of insatiability.” Marcus shakes his head.

Aro hums. “What do you think, Mind Stealer?”

Riki’s crimson gaze meets the ancient ones. “He’s sired several, before.” He shrugs.

“Such apathy,” Caius sneers.

“Someone has to keep an eye on the bigger picture.”

Through his several altercations with them, Riki knows that this coven doesn’t seek trouble, but they’re always at the center of it, and it always finds its way to Volterra.

They are a family of honor. As honorable as he once was.

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

Present day.

The crack of thunder drowns out the sound of the victim’s screams.

You finish feasting on the redhead, and toss her corpse into a nearby dumpster like she’s nothing but an empty sack.

To be fair, that is true.

Let the cops find her. Even on the off chance that they could trace this back to you, then what? You can now take 20 of their strongest in a heartbeat.

As you saunter out of the alleyway, a lone car drifts by, music playing in the dead of night.

“Ooh, you set my soul alight,” you sing along to the familiar tune beneath your breath, off-key.

This is what sets your soul alight. The hunt. The taste running down your throat like no expensive champagne ever has.

Your heart? A different story. Perhaps it’s your human self’s dedication to saving lives rather than ending them trying to peek through.

But your heart stopped a month ago—so it certainly does not win this battle. It is merely a symbol, just like your humanity altogether.

You are now certain of three things.

First is that you are now a vampire.

Second is that your parents were murdered by vampires.

And third is that you are now a murderer.

You strut without a care in the world. Even if someone were to discern your features despite the dark, Vancouver is full of interesting characters. No one would bat an eye at some messy hair, and you could easily play off your blood-stained lips and red eyes as some new goth makeup trend.

You consider chasing the car’s driver, but you’re full.

For now.

So why you ended up finding yourself at your aunt and uncle’s neighborhood? You can’t really tell—you’re just going off on the instincts that have carried you thus far.

There weren’t any street cameras back when you lived here, but just in case there are now, you use your speed to move so fast they wouldn’t even be able to catch a single glimpse of you, and you enter the damned house without a sound.

The only problem, probably, with being a newborn is how heightened your emotions are. This isn’t you, (Y/N), you have to endure, Carlisle tried to tell you the last time you saw him.

But he doesn’t know a single thing about you.

He doesn’t understand the bitterness you carry.

You’re 11 years old, standing in this same doorway, clutching your school bag that’s soaked from the rain because they conveniently forgot to pick you up.

“I don’t know why you insist on acting so pitiful,” your aunt sneers, “if you weren’t so ungrateful, perhaps we’d actually want to help you.”

She wipes imaginary sweat from her brow as she flicks through primetime channels. “Do you know how hard it is to take care of a child that isn’t even ours? We had plans, (Y/N). You ruined them. We should’ve sent you to a foster home.”

You’d scrub the floors until your fingers ached, only for her to find some invisible speck of dirt and make you do it all over again. You remember how they’d lock the fridge at night, how they’d turn off the hot water before you could shower, how they always reminded you that you don’t belong there.

And your uncle’s attention would only come in the form of disappointment. “The chores aren’t done? Didn’t we feed you last night? Maybe you need to start earning your keep before you start demanding so much.”

But the chores were always done—just not in his wife’s eyes. Demanding so much? The only thing they give you is a roof over your head—and even that comes with strings attached.

You never forget.

And now you truly don’t belong in this house, so let’s see if they recognize you.

Your lips curl into something between a grin and a snarl in preparation as you hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

“(Y/N?)” Your uncle gasps as he rounds the entryway.

You can only imagine what he’s seeing. It’s what you saw that first time you looked in a mirror after you woke up. You, but not really you. A version so polished it almost gives off the uncanny valley effect.

You wonder if he noticed your eyes. If they’re unsettling him as much as the dreaded man’s did to you.

“Hi, uncle!” You chirp.

He gulps. “Um. How did you get in? We had the locks changed years ago.”

You inwardly scoff. Of course they did. Surely, the second your 16-year-old self left, they decided that you’ll never be welcome here again. It was probably your aunt’s idea—he’s always been her puppet.

You’re glad you’re seeing him first. That way, you can save the best for last.

“Hm? Aren’t you happy to see me?” You ask, faux confusion dripping from your voice.

Your uncle takes a step back, bumping into the console table behind him. The lamp wobbles, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are locked onto yours.

Then—her voice.

“Who the hell are you talking to?”

Right on cue.

You hear her heels clicking as she approaches, the sound triggering something deep in your bones. An old instinct, long since buried. But that fear isn’t yours anymore.

She steps into view, arms crossed, annoyance painted across her face. “Oh, it’s you.” Her gaze flicks over your bloodstained clothes, your too-perfect features, your red eyes. She scoffs. “God, you look ridiculous.”

You grin. She has no idea.

Your uncle makes a noise—half gasp, half whimper. She turns to him, irritated. “What is your problem?”

That’s when you strike.

You’re on him in an instant, fingers wrapping around his throat, lifting him clean off the ground. His feet kick uselessly.

“You should’ve been nicer to me. I would’ve spared you.” You fake-pout.

A choked gurgle escapes him, cut short when your teeth sink into his flesh.

The first time you were forced to scrub wine stains out of the carpet, you cried. You scrubbed and scrubbed, but the red wouldn’t come out.

Now, you don’t care if the stains never fade.

Your aunt screams.

You drop his lifeless body and turn to her, licking the blood off your lips.

She stumbles back, trembling, clutching the silk of her robe as if it’ll protect her. “What—what are you—”

You mimic her earlier words, tilting your head. “God, you look ridiculous.”

She turns to run. You let her. For just a second.

She barely makes it three steps before you cut her off, slamming the door shut with one hand.

She gasps, spinning around, eyes wide with terror. “Please—”

“Please?” You chuckle. “Please?” You lean in, voice dropping to a whisper. “You never listened when I pleaded.”

Then, you take what’s yours.

Afterwards, you finally step outside, not caring enough to hide the bodies the way your parents’ killers did.

The night air is cold and crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain-soaked pavement and something else—something vaguely familiar. You stiffen.

“Newborns. Always so messy.”

The voice is warm, teasing. You turn just as a towering figure steps out of the shadows, arms crossed over his chest, dimples flashing.

“Hey, little sis.”

Your jaw clenches. “Emmett.”

From behind him, Rosalie emerges, golden hair cascading over her shoulder, arms folded like she’d rather be anywhere else. Her sharp eyes flick to the bodies inside the window, then back to you.

“I see subtlety isn’t your thing,” she remarks dryly.

Your lip curls. “What are you two doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Emmett answers. “Carlisle was hoping you’d come back on your own, but…” He gestures vaguely at the crime scene. “Yeah. That wasn’t happening.”

You scoff. “And what, you’re here to convince me? Because I’m not interested.”

Rosalie rolls her eyes. “You’re barely over a month old, and you’re already acting like you know everything.”

“I know enough,” you snap.

Emmett sighs, stepping closer. “Look, I get it. You’re angry. You think we don’t understand, but we do. We’ve been there.” He gestures between himself and Rosalie. “But this isn’t the way.”

You bark out a laugh. “And what is? Playing house with a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites?”

Emmett doesn’t flinch, but there’s something softer in his gaze now. Something that makes your throat tighten.

“Come back with us,” he says. “Just for a little while. Hear Carlisle out.”

Your eyes flick between them. Rosalie’s expression is unreadable, but Emmett… Emmett is genuine.

You glance back at the house, at the bodies cooling inside.

Then, after a long beat, you sigh. “…Fine.”

You follow the couple as they run to Victoria, your feet taking you faster than a helicopter could have. The ocean breeze whips against your face as you make the leap from the mainland to Vancouver Island, landing on the rocky shore with grace.

Within moments, the Cullen house is in sight, nestled in the trees, glowing softly against the dark night. Emmett and Rosalie lead you inside, not a word spoken, but the tension in the air thick enough to taste. You cross the threshold into a house that doesn’t feel like home but feels oddly familiar all the same.

Carlisle is the first to greet you. He’s calm, even in the face of your obvious disdain. “(Y/N),” he says with a warm tone. “We’re glad you’re here. Let’s sit down, please.”

You look around at the family, noting their stiff postures, their eyes full of… concern. Each couple stands off to a side, watching you, even the dhampir girl with brown eyes with her werewolf—now human—mate, who has long since healed from the tiger shifter attack since the last time you saw him.

Carlisle gestures for you to sit, and you do so reluctantly, crossing your arms. “We need to talk.”

You don’t respond at first, your eyes narrowing as you keep your attention on him. Carlisle continues, his voice steady. “There were questions about you at the hospital. They asked if we had seen you. I told them you had to leave suddenly. Your uncle fell ill, so you went to take care of him.”

You freeze for a second, a bitter laugh slipping from your lips. He did indeed fall.

“Does Dr. Park know?” Not that it matters. It’s not like you’ll be returning to that open buffet of death.

Carlisle nods. “He knows, but he can’t say anything without directly implicating himself. It’s why he just… let us go.”

“Our chief convinced the tigers to make a treaty with the Cullens—with you—to leave them be as long as they no longer turn anybody else or drink from locals,” Jacob, the wolf, speaks up.

Which drags your eyes once more to Renesmee, next to him. There is blood coursing through her veins, and her scent is very sweet. It doesn’t beckon you as strongly as human blood does, but it doesn’t stop you from looking.

Bella follows your eyes, and her head whips toward you instantly, eyes narrowing. “Stay away from her,” she warns, voice low and dangerous.

You raise an eyebrow and lean back in your seat with an exaggerated casualness. “Relax, Bella,” your voice drips with amusement as Renesmee rolls her eyes, her vampiric side giving her enough courage to not be phased by your red gaze. “She smells good like perfume, not like food.”

She’s still tense, growling ever so quietly, but her shoulders relax a bit.

You roll your eyes and turn to Carlisle. “I’m obviously not welcome here. Can I go now?”

He sighs. “You are always welcome here, (Y/N). You’re one of us now—this can be your home. We really needed to make sure that you were safe.”

“Safe?” You echo with an incredulous laugh. “I am safe. You want to weaken me with your animal blood.”

Carlisle’s eyes darken, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he waits for you to continue, and you do, your emotions swelling as the words slip out without thought.

“Do you know what my entire life has been about, doctor?” you ask, the last word bleeding with mockery. “It’s been about studying so I could get away from my aunt and uncle, or wondering what happened to my parents—why they were murdered, why I was left behind, and working on how I could be the savior I couldn’t be as a three-year-old. But now? Now I know, and now I can live.”

The room goes silent. The family watches you, each of them processing what you’ve said. You don’t look at them as they exchange glances. You don’t need to. Your mind is already made up.

You stand to leave, but Carlisle doesn’t back down. “I understand you’re angry. But what happened to your family… it doesn’t have to define who you are now.

“What you call weakness, is actually anything but. It’s the strength to endure, to be able to live publicly. You can learn to temper the cravings, if you would just allow yourself to try—you’d thank yourself for it, in the long run. And you’ll never have to be alone.”

You can feel the anger rising within you again. You’ve heard this speech before. The right way. The safe way. You’re done listening to those words.

“I don’t feel alone,” you growl, eyes locking with Carlisle’s, and your voice comes out cold, controlled. “And don’t treat me like I’m broken, because I’m not. I’m free.”

You’re not sure if you’re convincing them or yourself. If this is true freedom, or if you’re letting yourself into a new cage, one barred by thirst.

The Cullens are silent, watching you carefully, but you don’t let your voice waver. Every single one of your senses is telling you what you want, so no one is going to take that from you.

“Don’t worry.” You turn to them one last time. “For saving me, I’ll respect you enough to not drink from locals.”

You step outside, where the only sound accompanying you is the crunch of leaves and snaps of twigs beneath your feet.

Until another set of footsteps catches up to you, and you groan.

“I know what it’s like.”

You turn around to see the quiet one—Jasper.

“The hunger. It’s like an intrinsic part of you that you can’t outrun. And I didn’t. When I first turned, I couldn’t fathom living without it. Every human scent, every drop of blood, it felt like I was drowning in it… and I enjoyed that drowning.”

You quirk an eyebrow.

He groans, as though remembering his red-eyed days pains him. Whether out of temptation or guilt, though, you can’t tell.

“It wasn’t like I decided to become vegetarian overnight,” he continues. “At first, I kept giving in. I slipped up, again and again. But I needed to learn that I’m now different, and that I can’t spend an eternity surviving instead of living.”

You cross your arms, but it feels like your armor is starting to crack.

“It was about progress. Day by day, it’d get easier. Of course, I had Alice through it all.” He smiles fondly at the ground at the thought of the pixie girl. “She was my anchor.”

You don’t respond right away. You feel your jaw tighten as you scoff inwardly. An anchor. Right. How nice for him. Alice might have been there to hold him steady, but you? Nada. Romance, connection, it all seems so… impossible with your current circumstances. You’ll never have someone like Alice, and you sure as hell won’t let yourself rely on anyone else. Not now.

Jasper watches you closely, sensing your hesitation, but he doesn’t push. He simply waits.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” you say, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them. The idea of controlling the thirst, figuring out a whole other way to live this life that still feels so foreign, it’s completely overwhelming.

Jasper gives a quiet, knowing smile. “I can train you, if you want, because I didn’t know if I could, either. But I didn’t let myself give up. And neither should you. Not if you want to be more than just alive.”

For a moment, silence hangs between you, and then, finally, you nod. “Okay. I’ll let you train me. But don’t expect me to be easy to work with.”

His grin widens just slightly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from a newborn.”

A week.

Two weeks into this stupid training.

And it’s not getting any better.

You’ve always tried to be someone who dealt with things head-on, but this… this is something else. The thirst is an ever-present beast, gnawing at your insides, and yet, no matter how hard you try, the animal blood just doesn’t sit right with you.

Jasper’s patience is a constant, though. Every time you fail to control your desire for human blood, he’s there, offering gentle guidance, but it feels like you’re fighting a losing battle. And you hate it.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Jasper urges, his voice calm but persistent. “You’ve got this. Just focus on the hunt.”

You growl, fangs flashing as you push through the motion, trying to force yourself to focus on the deer in front of you. But every time you go in for the kill, the blood is just… wrong. The taste is foreign and metallic, the warmth lacking. This hunt isn’t the same.

“I don’t get it,” you mutter under your breath, stepping back from the animal. “Why can’t I just do it my way?”

Jasper sighs. “Because, (Y/N), that way isn’t sustainable. You’re a doctor, for fuck’s sake. You will have to live with the guilt for eternity once the newborn frenzy passes.”

You were a doctor.

You’ve been trying, for weeks now, to make the animal blood work, but it’s just not you—not the current you, at least, and to hell with that meek, old version. It’s too bland, too unsatisfying. Like trying to replace a steak with a bowl of cereal.

“This isn’t living.” You shake your head. “This is sacrifice.”

Before Jasper can respond, a smooth voice breaks through the tension.

“What a nice surprise!”

You both turn to see a black-haired girl leaning lazily against a shadowed tree, arms crossed, watching you intently with a smirk playing at her lips. You catch the now-familiar smell of immortality. A vampire with the relaxed air of someone who’s seen a lot and doesn’t care to hide it.

Jasper’s eyes narrow slightly, recognizing her. “Misora.”

“Jasper.” She nods coolly, pushing herself off the tree and taking a few steps forward, her gaze shifting to you. “And who’s this? A new recruit?”

You glare but say nothing.

“Carlisle turned her a couple months ago, and I’m trying to teach her how to hunt animals.” He turns to you. “Misora is a nomad. We traveled with the Mexican coven around the same time, over a century ago.”

“Still not fond of animal blood, huh?” Her smirk widens, voice dripping with casual amusement. “You know,” she continues, her voice low and thoughtful, “forcing yourself to drink from animals is never going to feel right. It’s unnatural. But that doesn’t mean you have to give in to the bloodlust completely. You just need to learn how to control it in moderation.”

Jasper stiffens at her words, but Misora doesn’t seem to care. Her gaze never leaves yours, her confidence only growing as she speaks. “You’ve got that thirst in you. I can see it in your eyes. But the trick is not to drown in it. You can learn to kill subtly. Take what you need, don’t waste. You’d be surprised how much you can get from a little. You’re a predator, after all. You just have to think like one.”

She walks by close enough for her red eyes to shine beneath the afternoon sun, and for her skin to sparkle as brightly as you and Jasper’s.

You look at her, stunned. “You… drink from humans.”

“Of course I do,” she responds with a chuckle. “Why would I waste time hunting animals? Humans are far more interesting. And, let’s face it, they’re a lot more filling.”

Jasper steps between the two of you, his eyes flashing with warning. “I don’t think this is the kind of training (Y/N) needs.”

Misora raises a brow, clearly not intimidated. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve taught her all about controlling her impulses, Jasper. But there’s a world out there beyond your little rules. She needs to learn how to survive in it. You can’t live in a bubble forever.”

She is speaking your language.

“You’ll never feel alive if you’re constantly fighting yourself. Live for what makes you feel whole,” she says with a knowing look.

You feel the pull of her words, and for a moment, you’re caught between the two very different perspectives: the Cullens’ careful, controlled existence and Misora’s unapologetic freedom.

You turn your eyes to Jasper. “Well. I already gave your way a try.”

The girl grins as you walk over to where she stands in the clearing.

“I’m gonna teach her the Nishimura way,” she laughs in Jasper’s direction and drapes a hand over your shoulder as she leaves, and without a second look, you choose to follow.

Your life is too long for you to not explore every option.

Over the span of just a week, the girl helps you adapt to the art of subtleties—of doing what you want, but having the peace of mind that you did not cause a ruckus.

Not that you’d ever felt guilt at your messiness, but you’ll take the Cullens’ word for it that you’ll be hit with more sense after the newborn frenzy passes.

See? You did gain something from the righteousness they spewed.

“So where are you from?” You ask your new mentor.

“Japan.”

“A long way from home, huh?”

She remains quiet for a second, jaw clenched, not turning to you. “There is nothing that makes it a home for me there, anymore. Hasn’t been in over 150 years. It’s why I travel all over, except Japan.”

“How did you turn?”

Misora doesn’t speak right away, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve overstepped.

“I was sick,” she finally says. “I knew I didn’t have long.”

Something tightens in your frozen chest. “What kind of sick?”

“Didn’t have a name for it, back then, but it was the same thing my father had. My body was weak. My bones ached, my breath was short. Healers tried, but I always knew.” She shrugs. “So I lived as much as I could. Climbed mountains, even when my lungs burned. Ate what I wanted, danced even when I was coughing blood.” She pauses. “I wasn’t afraid. I made my peace with dying. I was surrounded by my mother, my sister, my friends, and if I’d died, I would’ve been with my late father and brother.”

Her smile is all sorrow, but you can do nothing but listen with furrowed brows.

She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “But I woke up, and I was this.”

You don’t have to ask what this means. The blood-red of her eyes, the effortless grace in her every movement, the unnatural stillness that clings to her. The inescapable weight of eternity.

“I don’t even know who did it,” she admits, voice bitter. “One moment, I was dying, and then… I wasn’t. Instead, I was forced to live long enough to be the one watching everyone I love die.”

You don’t know what to say. You think you should say something, offer some kind of condolence, but what would that even be worth? Misora doesn’t seem like she’d appreciate it anyway.

“I hate this,” she says, her voice raw, but her expression carefully blank. “I hate this immortality. It’s a curse. A joke. But I have to make the most of it, I guess.”

You glance down for a second, before deciding to ask the question you’ve been wondering for a while. “So why do you bother being discrete? Fuck this world and its rules. It’s not like anybody could harm you, anyways.”

“Oh, but there are people who can.”

You frown. The Cullens—Carlisle, especially—always made it sound like it’s morality.

“If we’re that powerful, we should be able to handle it.”

Misora laughs—actually laughs—but it’s sharp-edged. “Tell that to the Volturi.”

“The who?”

“The leeches who think they’re kings,” she says dryly. “They’re the reason we hide. The moment a vampire gets too flashy, too ambitious, too noticeable—” she drags her thumb across her throat. “Gone.”

You tilt your head. “And they’re strong enough to make everyone listen?”

“They have numbers. And power.” Her pale fingers flex at her sides. “There are vampires in their ranks who can do more than just be strong and fast. They can blind you, torture you, there’s even one they call the Mind Stealer, or the Puppeteer—very few people actually knows his name, but he can make you do whatever he wants with a single thought. If he wanted, he could make you kill yourself, and you’d do it with a smile.”

A chill runs down your spine, remembering the moments you behaved quite noticeably. Did Emmett and Rosalie clean up after you?

Misora scoffs. “Cowards, all of them. They hide behind their pretty little powers, thinking they’re gods.” Her lip curls. “Aro, their dear leader, is the worst of them all. Slimy little bastard.”

You smirk at her words. “Not a fan, I take it?”

She laughs, sharp and cold. “Not in the slightest.” There’s a dangerous glint in her eye. “If I was able to, I’d rip those smug assholes apart, just to watch the dust settle.”

So you follow in the cynical, but lively vampire’s footsteps.

In the span of another week, you feel more spirited than you did in the two months before. Hell, in the 22 years before.

Every night, you and Misora scour various cities, blending into the nightlife, finding your prey with ease. Her laughter is infectious, and her confidence bleeds into your own.

Tonight is no different.

You lay your lovely squad of victims near a warehouse deep in the city—somewhere no one should care to notice, but you’ll clean up after yourselves regardless.

Then you indulge.

Your movements are gradually growing more precise, with razor-sharp instincts. You sink your teeth in before the woman can scream, drinking deep, feeling the familiar rush flood your senses. The warm tang of fresh blood coats your tongue, leaving you buzzing with energy and satisfaction.

You wipe the corner of your mouth, chuckling at something Misora’s saying, but the laughter dies in your throat when moonlight casts a silvery glow over the woman crumpled at your feet.

A middle-aged woman. Her face is ashen, eyes wide open, unseeing, accusing. Your hands shake as you take her in. The faded scars along her limbs. The slight dent in her chest where a surgeon once worked to save her life.

Your hands worked to save her life.

The memory crashes into you like the most vicious wave. Around six months ago, your first week as an intern at Victoria General. A late-night car crash. Blood pooling on the gurney.

You’d stabilized her, alongside Dr. Cullen.

And now, you’ve killed her.

Your breath hitches, the remnants of her blood burning like acid in your throat. Memories flood back—the beeping monitors, the tense urgency as you prepped her for surgery, the relief that had filled you when it went well.

Something inside you breaks. Your knees buckle, hitting the cold, hard ground. The weight of your actions crashes over you, suffocating and heavy. This isn’t just a random victim. This is someone whose life you held in your hands—twice.

“(Y/N)?” Misora’s voice is sharp, alarmed. She crouches beside you, her hands gripping your shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

You shove the body away like it burns. Your fingers tangle in your hair, pressing into your scalp, like you can dig into your own skull and tear this moment out.

But you were never able to do that.

“I—I knew her,” you choke out, eyes glued to the lifeless body. “I saved her. I saved her, and now she’s dead because of me.”

You were a doctor. You were supposed to save people. Not this.

The breaths you don’t even need, just taking them in because you need to feel human right now, rattle in your throat. The newborn instincts that have ruled you since your turning are drowned out by something deeper. A guilt so raw it feels like it’s killing you. The heightening of emotions makes your horror so unbearable, it’s sickening.

Misora’s expression shifts, her usual indifference faltering, shifting to worry, as she processes your turmoil. “Shit.”

The world tilts, spinning around you, and all you can see are the faces of the people you’ve drained. Were any of them people you saved, too? Are you undoing all the good you did in your human life?

Misora tugs at your arm, desperation seeping into her voice. “We need to get you out of here.”

You don’t resist as she hauls you to your feet, your body numb as she practically drags you away, leaving the carnage behind.

The night blurs past you.

And suddenly, you’re at the Cullens’ doorstep. The house is quiet, lights dim against the backdrop of the dense woods. Misora pounds on the door, her urgency echoing through the trees.

Esme answers, her eyes widening at the sight of you. Blood on your trembling hands. Red eyes shattered. “What happened?”

“She’s breaking down,” Misora blurts, a rare tremor in her voice. “She needs help, and I’ve never dealt with this before.”

The Cullens are there in an instant, guiding you inside, their faces painted with concern. But your gaze remains fixed on the floor, unable to lift the crushing weight pressing down on your chest.

For two days.

You don’t hunt.

You don’t move.

Carlisle sits with you in quiet understanding. Esme’s soft voice tries to soothe. Jasper subtly tamps down your emotions when they get too overwhelming. But none of it fixes the gaping hole inside you.

You don’t know how to live with this. You can only sit with the haze of guilt and horror hanging over you like a storm cloud.

But then Alice gasps.

Your head snaps up, and find her with her fingers gripping the back of the chair, knuckles like stone. Her golden eyes are distant, unfocused.

She’s the one that can see the future.

“Alice?” Jasper’s voice is low, worried.

Her voice is barely a whisper, laced with dread. “The Volturi. They’re coming.” She turns to you, eyes shaking. “For you.”

The room falls into a suffocating silence, everyone’s eyes on Alice as the reality of your actions settles over them. You share a glance with Misora, and it hits you.

You didn’t clean up after yourselves.

Now you’re gonna be the prey.

You brace yourself for the fallout. For Carlisle’s disappointment, for Esme’s soft but inevitable grief. Maybe even for Bella to suggest running and get her own little family away from everything, or for Rosalie to outwardly scoff that this isn’t her problem.

But Carlisle steps forward, his expression calm, steady. Decisive.

“Then we prepare.”

You blink. “What?”

His voice is firm, without hesitation. “We stand with you.”

Your chest tightens.

Esme nods, her warm, unyielding presence wrapping around you like a shield. “You’re family now,” she says softly, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. “And family doesn’t abandon each other.”

Alice finally blinks, the vision fading, and when she refocuses, there’s something sharp in her gaze. “They’re not here yet. We have time.”

Jasper crosses his arms, his posture shifting into something subtly protective. “Not much, though.”

Emmett grins, cracking his knuckles. “Doesn’t matter. Let them come.”

Rosalie exhales sharply through her nose, but there’s no venom in it. “You’re a reckless idiot,” she mutters, but then, after a long pause— “And if you die, it’ll reflect badly on us.”

The words are sharp, but the meaning underneath them is clear.

She’s in.

A lump forms in your throat. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve their loyalty. Not after what you’ve done.

But they’re giving it to you anyway.

“I’m staying too.”

You snap your head toward Misora.

She leans against the wall, arms crossed, but her usual smirk is gone. There’s no amusement in her eyes, no mischief. Only something cold. Determined.

“You don’t have to—”

“Oh, shut up.” She rolls her eyes. “I messed up right there with you. Do you think I’d let you die alone?” She shoves her hands into her pockets. “You’re annoying as hell, but you’re my friend, now. And besides, the Cullens are gonna need someone on their side who actually knows how to fight dirty.“

Jasper arches a brow but doesn’t argue.

Night shifts to dawn. Saturday shifts to Thursday, and the air isn’t any less thick with anticipation.

A suffocating stillness settles over the clearing outside the Cullens’ house. As the sun starts to rise, your skins begin to glimmer, a show of beauty despite being braced for a fight. With bodies coiled like springs, golden, crimson, and even two pairs of brown eyes lock onto the shadowy figures emerging from the trees.

A group of five. No fanfare, no grand entrance—just the soft rustling of their cloaks as they step forward, but the air of authority that radiates from them is unmistakable.

“Why is it always your family, Carlisle?” A blonde girl, barely a teenager, starts.

“Lovely to see you again, Jane.” He responds with a curt smile at her.

There’s a guy who’s identical to her, another guy who’s insanely tall. But it’s the fourth one that steals your breath away.

The moment you see him, something in you stops.

He is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

Of course, all vampires have an unnatural allure, but him? It’s something else entirely. Sharp jawline, full, rosy lips, hair as dark as the midnight sky. His presence is quiet, effortless, but every movement is precise, lethal in a way that doesn’t need to be flaunted. And his eyes—deep crimson, glinting like polished rubies beneath his hood—fix on you, unreadable.

Jewels. Not the bloodstains that are your eyes, that are the eyes of the vampire from your childhood, but rubies.

You should be afraid. You are afraid.

But a part of you can’t look away.

Until Misora gasps. A choked, disbelieving noise.

She’s staring at him, wide-eyed, something breaking across her face.

Edward stiffens beside you, his eyes flicking between them as he reads her thoughts. “Riki is your brother?” He murmurs.

Your gaze snaps to Edward, then back to Misora.

Misora, whose lips part soundlessly, whose expression is stuck somewhere between recognition and denial.

“Riki?” she echoes, like the name is foreign in her own mouth.

You whip back to her, confusion knotting in your chest. “I thought you told me your brother was dead.”

Her hands clench at her sides, voice barely above a heartbroken whisper, “My brother is dead.”

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

For the first time since Riki became the Volturi’s most valuable weapon, he is distracted.

He doesn’t get distracted. It’s not possible. His gift demands complete control. His mind is a fortress—impenetrable, untouchable, locked into his duty like an ironclad machine. He does not waver. He does not hesitate.

And yet.

When his eyes land on her, something fractures.

She is standing among the Cullens, body tensed. She’s afraid, but she’s hiding behind the bravado of a newborn. But all he can see is her eyes. They aren’t golden like the rest of the coven. But it’s not just the color that pulls him in—it’s the weight behind them, the quiet storm she carries in her gaze.

She is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

A foolish thought. A human thought. One that shouldn’t exist in his mind.

But it lingers.

Then, he sees the other pair of red eyes—a stranger vampire who didn’t stand with the Cullens 18 years ago.

At first, he doesn’t register who she is. Because this girl—no, this woman—is not Misora. Misora was fifteen. Misora was still human, still soft around the edges, still warm. This person standing before him is none of those things. She is tall, fully grown, her limbs no longer awkward with adolescence but poised, sharp. She does not have a heartbeat.

And yet—

He knows.

Knows in the way an older brother knows his little sister, no matter how many centuries, how much distance has warped them apart.

For the first time in decades, something cold and dangerous slides under Riki’s ribs. An emotion he was never supposed to feel again.

What have they done to you?

Jane is saying something. Bringing up all of the newborn’s victims.

Riki isn’t hearing her.

The words slip past him, distant and irrelevant. Even the steady presence of the guard beside him is background noise.

His focus is fixed entirely on his baby sister, except she’s not.

He takes a step forward, the movement small but purposeful. The Cullens tense. The girl with the beautifully scarred eyes watches him with something unreadable in her expression, but he barely registers it.

He does the only thing he knows how to do.

“Step forward.”

The words are soft. Deceptively calm.

Misora flinches.

And something inside Riki wrenches.

The command had been soft—barely more than a breath—but the moment the words leave his lips, he sees the exact second she realizes what’s happening.

She knows.

She knows what he’s doing. Who he is. What he is.

A flicker of resistance shudders through her, instinctive and useless. His grip is too strong. His gift—so carefully honed, so ruthlessly wielded—is absolute.

And still, she fights.

Misora has always been stubborn.

Even now, as her body jerks forward against her will, her jaw locks tight, her eyes burning with defiance. The others react immediately—a low growl from the golden-haired one, a blur of movement—protection, Riki realizes, they’re protecting her—but before anyone can intervene, Misora lifts a hand. Wait.

Riki swallows against something thick in his throat.

He tightens his hold, his gift slithering into her nervous system like an iron vice, seizing control of her vocal cords, pressing against her prefrontal cortex. His voice, when he speaks, is measured. “What is your name?”

Misora’s jaw locks.

But against her own will, against every ounce of resistance in her body, the truth gets wrung from her throat. “Misora Nishimura.”

The sound of her voice, of the name he hasn’t heard in centuries, his name, hits him like a stake to the heart.

“This isn’t the newborn we were sent to kill,” Demetri leans in to whisper, “this is her accomplice.”

But Riki knows, and he doesn’t care. Not anymore. He holds up a hand to silence the guard—his peer in title, but Demetri knows which one of them is truly in charge.

“When and by whom were you turned?” He forces his expression to remain neutral.

Her teeth clench. She’s fighting so hard.

Something curdles in his chest. This is the girl that used to play fight with him, when he’d come home from a long, painful day with the Yakuza. She didn’t fight against him. She’d tug on the sleeves of his kimono, demanding his attention.

“1832. I don’t know who turned me, I was sick.” A tremor runs through her limbs. Her eyes burn with fury, with desperation, with something pleading.

And for the first time in 200 years, his hands start to shake.

And he lets her go, taking a second to steady himself.

He turns to the other girl—the one who isn’t his sister, the one he should’ve questioned first. The one who, for a split second, had stolen his breath before the rest of the world fell away.

But now, he hesitates.

It’s a minuscule thing, barely a fraction of a second, but in his line of work, in his particular skillset, a fraction of a second is an eternity. It’s the difference between absolute dominance and doubt. Between control and chaos.

“You’re working with her?” He asks Misora, voice quieter than before, almost contemplative.

He shouldn’t have asked. He should’ve commanded. He should’ve taken the answer like he always does, forced his will into her bones the way he’s done with so many others.

But he doesn’t.

And Misora—now free, her limbs shaking, her breathing ragged—fixes him with a glare that’s both razor-sharp and filled with something wounded, something raw.

And then she scoffs, a harsh, humorless sound. “Eat shit, Riki Volturi. Or should I say Mind Stealer? Or Puppeteer?”

The name lands like a strike of lightning, coming from her mouth.

Not Nishimura. Volturi.

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t let himself react. Doesn’t let himself acknowledge the way it burns. But she’s staring at him like he’s nothing, like he’s a stranger, like he’s already long gone.

He remains silent as he sorts his mind for what to do. A side of him that has long been dormant is now resurrected, and he doesn’t know what to sacrifice.

“You hesitated.”

The other girl with red eyes.

The girl with eyes like his. Maybe his eyes are even as broken as hers, right now.

One whose voice sounds like music to his ears.

Carlisle and Esme try to tug her backwards, but she’s already caught his attention.

A scoff from the guard behind him. “Hesitated?” the vampire sneers, like the very idea is laughable. “The Mind Stealer doesn’t hesitate. Don’t delude yourself, newborn.”

Riki doesn’t react.

Alec takes a step forward, eyes gleaming with malice. “She’s wasting our time. They’re wasting our time. Kill the two girls and be done with it.”

Kill them?

Anyone but her.

Misora stiffens beside (Y/N). The Cullens brace themselves, prepared to strike.

And Riki exhales his first breath in two centuries.

Slowly, deliberately.

“No.”

Silence.

Absolute silence. Like the Earth has stopped rotating.

“What?”

Riki doesn’t look at Alec. He doesn’t need to. His focus is elsewhere.

He takes a step forward. Towards Misora. Towards her.

The Cullens shift instantly, poised for defense, but he doesn’t stop.

He’s barely taken another step, when he’s met with white-hot agony.

The force of it is instant, an explosion of suffering detonating inside his skull. He crumbles to his knees before he can stop himself, hands clawing at the cold ground.

A curse tears from his lips.

Jane. He doesn’t have to see her to know. He can feel her amusement, her punishment from here.

“You dare defy an order?” Her voice is sweet. Delighted. “How strange. Have we gotten soft, Mind Stealer?”

Another wave of pain. It burns. He grits his teeth, locks his jaw, and endures.

Through the ringing in his ears, he hears something. Murmuring. The Cullens. Something fast.

Then the pain stops.

It’s not gradual. It doesn’t fade. It just… ceases.

Riki gasps, shuddering. He blinks up at the sky, disoriented, reeling, and realizes he’s standing.

Not collapsed. Not writhing.

Standing.

He turns, dazed, and then he sees it.

The translucent shimmer of a shield encasing him.

Bella Cullen’s eyes are locked on him, jaw set, hands clenched at her sides. And the shield he found his way around 19 years ago is protecting him.

The murmurs behind him are hushed, but Riki hears everything.

“This shouldn’t be possible.” Felix’s voice is low, urgent. “Chelsea’s gift, she’s supposed to bind us. Our loyalty. Our devotion.”

A beat of silence.

Then, Demetri exhales sharply. “She does. But her ties don’t work when opposed by true love.”

True love.

There was a time when he would’ve mocked such things—love, feelings as a whole, even—after spending a century with the Volturi, and forgetting how to feel them, to begin with. He would’ve thought they were a liability.

But Misora is not a liability. She is his sister. And he truly loves her.

The realization settles into him like fire in his veins. Steady. Absolute. And love—true, unbreakable love—frees him.

So he does what would’ve once been unthinkable.

In a flash, he turns faster than any vampire could expect.

His power surges outward, deadly and precise. He seizes two minds at once—Jane and Alec, the Volturi’s twin nightmares, their most precious weapons besides him.

Their limbs jerk violently against their own will. Jane’s eyes widen in shock, and Alec lets out a strangled sound of protest.

Let them scream. He isn’t focusing on their vocal cords, right now.

They reach for one another.

Gasps ring out, but he doesn’t stop to relish in the astonishment. Jane’s shriek is cut short as her own hands grasp Alec’s throat. Alec’s arms move like a puppet’s, seizing her head in turn.

With their own hands, they rip each other’s heads off.

Silence.

Horrified, disbelieving silence.

The twin blades are reduced to nothing but limp, severed bodies.

The Cullens stare. The newborn stares. Misora stares.

Even Felix and Demetri are frozen. The two guards—once his comrades, witnesses of centuries of executions—stagger backward, fear flashing through their crimson eyes.

And then they run.

They don’t fight. They don’t look back.

They flee, blurring into the trees, retreating to Volterra. To Aro, Caius, and Marcus. To report the unthinkable.

Riki doesn’t stop them. His hands are still shaking, but he doesn’t care to.

Because for the first time in centuries—

He is free.

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

Ok tbf I really could’ve cut this into two chapters and I do think we have lost the plot slightly BUT DO YOU SEE THE VISION

Comment if you’d like to be tagged on the next one (where the romance starts) :)

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Finale

@angelengene3011 @wrldhypen @opheliaas-stuff

[thedragonboi]

Pseudo-predators

Probably not a real thing but humans are kinda like pseudo-predators. We adapted all these predatory traits before we ever behaviourally became predators.

Examples being:

Forward facing eyes

Starp canines

Pack structures

Probably more that I can’t remember.

Forward facing eyes developed because of us being arboreal. Or…at least from when we used to be arboreal, since it made swinging from branches and jumping between trees much easier since you could tell the distance of the leap and make the decision if the risk of falling would be worth it.

Sharp canines are a shared trait among primates, especially considering toothy bois like gorillas and mandrills have famously large chompers despite being rather strict vegetarians.

Finally pack structures. I guess group structures in general. Group structures aren’t explicitly a predatory trait, but considering our weaker position in the food chain early on, group structures 100% added to our ability to survive.

All together, these traits made it much easier to transition into scavenging and hunting behaviours as opposed to trying to specialise for some kind of plant diet.

[charliedawn]

Hannibal Family x vegetarian reader, how they would react?

Love your account btw 

(Aww. Thanks, dearie. And I am sorry. I unfortunately misread your request and did the slashers. If you want the Hannibals, please send the request again. 🥲)

Penny and Pennywise:

"…No meat ?"

Penny would be stunned. He lives on meat. He wouldn’t understand how somebody could eat rabbit food and feel content. He’d just stare at you for a moment before grimacing in disgust. But, he would eventually get used to it and summon you popcorn at random moments.

While Pennywise would laugh.

"A vegetarian ? Seriously ? And you chose to work with slashers ?"

Let’s be honest, slashers are NOT vegetarian. Especially not the Penny Brothers. They love meat. They live on meat. They thrive on it. They like blood. They like tearing through flesh and devouring corpses. So really ? Having a vegetarian nurse would make them laugh.

Patrick Bateman:

Patrick Bateman would understand.

Health is everything to him and to stay healthy, you need to eat vegetables and fruits. He does have a balanced diet, so he would probably still eat meat. But he doesn’t particularly enjoy it. He doesn’t particularly enjoy anything really.

Jason Voorhees:

Jason does eat a lot of vegetables and fruits compared to other slashers. But, he also enjoys cooking steak and meat in general. He enjoys nature, but also enjoys the thrill of the hunt. And he believes that what nature gives, he has the right and the duty to take. Actually, Jason hates to eat anything that isn’t natural. This is why he likes searching for his own food. (blueberries, strawberries, wild boars, deers…)

Bo Sinclair:

"…You a what ?"

Bo would smirk. He is a hunter. He has a rifle. He basically goes every Sunday hunting in the woods. He wouldn’t understand your choice, but he would accept it eventually. But for food ? You would rather ask Lester or Vincent. They would have a better diet than Bo who, if there is not meat on the table, would probably cause a scene.

Jade:

Jade is a vegetarian.

She would cook for you and share recipes with you. Her favourite thing in the world is soup. She awaits winter just to have some lovely soup that she happily slurps on during dinner while the other slashers stare weirdly at her. Because none of them understand the joy of warm soup.

Norman Bates:

Norman would adapt quickly to your diet.

He would prepare different meals for you than the other guests of the motel he runs. He would also try it himself. He is a rather open-minded individual and enjoys trying new things on a regular basis. He could even get used to it himself.

Michael Myers:

Michael is…a man of habit.

And in his many habits, there is ‘eat what you can and don’t be picky’. Because let’s be honest, that man is a survivalist. He survived years and years by eating whatever he could whenever he could. And whatever food he finds, he eats. So he wouldn’t be a vegetarian, but he IS an excellent cook. So he would make your meals and believe it or not, they would be pretty damn delicious !

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms is a vegetarian.

…

..

.

He only eats sweets, cakes and fries.

He eats like a kid and the only meat he may not refuse is chicken nuggets. Because chicken nuggets.

He keeps in shape because he burns calories faster than a running cheetah.

Freddy:

Freddy *sees vegetables on his plate* : "…What’s that shit ?"

Yup. Freddy is not a vegetarian.

Never will be.

He wants his burgers, pepperoni pizzas and hotdogs. Everything else is just rubbish in his plate.