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sword-in-the-sea · 2 years

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𝖋𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖎𝖕𝖘 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖒𝖞 𝖉𝖆𝖉, 𝖆 𝖋𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓 🐟

hint : this won't actually involve fishing

if you can't wake up early, become an owl; sleep during the day so you can stay up all night until dawn–the ideal fishing hours

invest in good fishing rod. it'll last you a lifetime and won't snap when you accidentally reel in a tiger shark

don't let your dumb child accidentally fish a barracuda. i don't care if they're alright; why the shit are you fishing a barracuda you're like six

homemade bait is always better

the more pungent the bait smell is, the better

if you see someone standing in the middle of the sea: no you don't.

is that figure approaching? steer the ship away, we need to find a new spot anyway

always hydrate and keep bottled water nearby. it's also useful to immobilise a shark that jumped into the ship–pour that freshwater to its gills. don't get bitten

wear a good bucket hat. look at me go

always listen to the sea. if you feel like storm is brewing even though it seems sunny, start finding a temporary island to dock

alternatively, if you're stranded in an unrecorded island and it's full of werecreatures: just stay in the shallows and don't go off the boat

if you find yourself making eye contact with a weregoat that's playing on the swings installed on said unrecorded island's beach, just look away

shrimp is good shrimp is life

bring eggs to the boat so you can eat instant noodles with shrimps and eggs

praying is good. always pray

don't question it when you caught a grouper the size of a small car. just celebrate and don't think about it further

you saw a fisherman jumped into the water and hasn't resurface in half an hour? that's fine, some of them can hold their breaths until an hour

you do not fuck with sharks. some sharks are not sharks, and you do not fuck with that shark.

seeing whales while fishing means good luck; it means the sea is clean, the fishes are thriving, and all is well. alternatively, if you fuck with whales i'll stab you

when you're fishing in the sea, you won't be back on mainland for weeks. so make sure you do all your fishing before you get married, so you can fulfill your sea-call before giving it up to lavish your new family.

you can still fish in freshwater pools. but it will never be the same

show your new kid how to eat raw sea urchin. it'll be funny

#sometimes i watch my dad wistfully gazing at the sea #and im like thanks for staying for us #but i hope you didnt loose yourself for the sea #i think he forgets most of the fishing stories he told me when i was a kid #bcs hes old now and last year he had brain hemorrhage #he still takes over n manage the fishing market #he just never went back in the sea anymore #ever since he married my mom #willingly gave it up so he can take care of us #its sweet but also rather sad #anw im just rambling #made this bcs i was feeling nostalgic #gothic story #cryptid dad #sea #fishing #sea aesthetic #seacore #oceancore #ocean aesthetic #fisherman #this is in indonesia btw #yes theres unrecorded islands here #specifically in the kepuluan seribu area #bcs theres too many small islands and they appear n disappear according to tides #the kid in this post is me #yes i accidentally caught a barracuda when i was 6 #and ate raw sea urchin #its great #the sea

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beeholyshit · 4 months

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FREE DAY!!!

So young and happy ❤️

#(🍰) *⁠.⁠✧ — Maroon #(☆) ｡⁠.ﾟ—⁠ Silver #pokespe parents #I came back home late so I made the first thing that came to my mind #I don't even know If I would be able to make the other for tomorrow bc #looks at commissions and unfinished gifts #yes #BUT ANYWAYS #small Silbebe. Maroon is so proud of her little wiwi #me thinking how when he was just a baby Giovanni just let her babysit (before they were. you know)#she was so happy to take care of that little kid #because you know how she really WANTED with her life to have kids and just a happy family and leave in peace #and knowing she isn't able to have kids Silver was like a miracle to her when Givanni started coming to the restaurant with the bebe #and even if Silver doesn't remember any of these I think that sometimes smell Maroon's food makes him feel nostalgic #because she needed to keep an eye on the baby but still work at the restaurant so #wiwiwi....#SpeSilverWeek #pokespe #🖍️ —⁠ Silly doodles

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hella1975 · 4 months

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girls will say they’re tough shit until 7 by catfish and the bottlemen comes on

#AND ID BEG YOU BUT YOU KNOW IM NEVER HOMEEEEE AND I LOVE YOU BUT I NEED ANOTHER YEAR ALONE #literally made a whole playlist based around the specific feeling this song evokes #like is it really a sad song or is it just one of the bands you listened to religiously as a pre-teen with friends you no longer talk to #specifically this band bc they were only active for a few years before breaking up and my friendship group was OBSESSED w them #i saw them live and everything and all my big memories from the ages like 14-16 remind me of this band and vice versa #im nostalgic for what was probably one of the worst times of my life. fucking hell #would i go back there? no. do i miss what we had? a little #what's the stand by me quote. does anyone ever have better friends than the ones they had when they were twelve. or smthn #that for pre-teen girls. the other night i spent over an hour going through old snapchat memories #'seshes' babies 😭 but the vibes were so real #actually there's one girl that i was best mates with that i have an INSANE storytime about now lmao like it was so fucking random 😭#catfish and the bottlemen #song rec

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kaladinkholins · 3 months

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i think fandoms can be soooo ridiculous a lot of the time (see: all the nonsensical fan wars, discourse, etc) but i cannot understate how much i actually love fandoms.

like yeah it may be super nerdy and even cringe and outsiders look at it like "why tf do you care about these fictional characters so much?"

but 1) my field is literally..... literary studies..... in which all i do is study fiction and analyse it like an insane person, and 2) even if that WASN'T my field, thinking about the stories we consume is important even for any person to do, because thinking about stories exercises our brain to think critically!! why do you think our ancestors used stories as a medium to share knowledge, to propagate moral values and lessons? stories—telling them, thinking about what they're saying, and caring about the characters within them—are all inherent to the human experience!!!

so that brings me to fandom. because we are literally just making these little communities with each other based on our shared love for a particular story, and for a particular character or theme within them that resonated with us, or whatever. we're all here because we loved a thing so much that we built connections from it!!!

like yeah my irl friends laugh at me when i tell them i write fanfic, cuz ha ha what a nerd what a loser etc, but dude. i made genuine real friendships from fandom alone. from just obsessing over two characters we thought were cute together, we've gone to sending each other gifts and postcards and having voice calls and confiding in each other and sharing parts of us and our personal lives and our cultures (cuz we're all from different countries) with each other! like now i don't even share a fandom with most of my old fandom friends anymore but we still stick by each other and that's amazing???

also like, i cannot emphasise enough how amazing and encouraging it is to share your craft (art/writing/etc) with others in fandom. because for example if i make my own personal art or write my own original work, i'd have no one to share it to, no one interested to see it, and thus no one will be there to provide feedback or encouragement.

but if i post a piece of fan art or fanfic, people actually do see the work i post and care about the craft and the content it's depicting and even share their thoughts on it and that ??? is so motivating and lovely ??? because even though i make art for myself, art is still meant to be shared and seen at the end of the day—even if only with one person. so to be given the means of sharing our art in such a way, to have such a community that fosters so much creativity, it's amazing. i don't really get that anywhere else.

and especially to have this in like, a casual setting, you know, where you can just be yourself and do things according to your own time and energy without the pretenses of professionalism and a perfectly curated resume or portfolio, and all the confines of a rigid work schedule, which would all make the process of creation less fun and less genuine, and instead just more taxing and chore-like.

because fandom is essentially meant to be about doing what's fun for you! it's about sharing your creations and enjoying what others share with you. you make friends and you go ham with it.

and also it's why it's more frustrating when people take things too seriously and legitimately get upset over assumptions of other people's beliefs and hold the most minor grievances that could only be felt if you're like, chronically online.

but on that note, there are definitely still honest-to-god bad people in fandom spaces too (see: racists, TERFS, homophobes, groomers, harassers, etc). but that's the case with all communities, because bad people are always going to exist, and thus statistically speaking, the bigger a group or community is, higher chances are there's gonna be some awful people in there. but honestly that is its own can of worms and also that's not what this post is about, but i felt it necessary to address because i don't want to paint fandom as like, the best thing ever in the world, because fandom spaces are incredibly flawed, as everything is.

but i've always been one to appreciate things despite its flaws. and though this may be very personal to me, when i love things so much, i am still willing to stick around and try to change the culture around it in the ways that i can (like promoting internet safety measures, creating safe spaces for thoughtful and polite discussion, raising awareness on harmful stereotypes and fandom depictions or opinions, etc).

so regardless of the bullshit that online fandom spaces tend to perpetuate, i do very much still love the way that fandom allows me to connect with folks over something as silly as our little blorbos, and from there end up making life-long friends, or at the very least new acquaintances. insert reinforcement of my thesis statement about stories fostering human connection here. the end. send post.

#fandom #inspired by me feeling lots of love for my long-time fandom friends and enjoying making new ones since joining the BES fandom #like i still remember comments i got on my fanfic from years ago. telling me how much my work resonated with them?#talking about how much they cried reading my work? how much it touched them?#like to me that's insane. like i'm thrilled to even have one (1) person care about my work ykwim #bcs irl it's hard to find that kind of recognition? ppl hear like. “oh you write/draw? cool” and it's p much whatever #so yeah. fandom has always been v important to me like i met so many cool and awesome and nice ppl bcs of it #and though I've lost touch with a lot of the friends i've made i still think abt them a lot. they all mean smth to me still #lol joining a new fandom community is makin me feel nostalgic dont mind me!#shut up haydar #scribblings.txt

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padfootastic · 1 year

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summary: from euphemia to james to sirius to harry to lily luna—traditions passed down through the generations of potters. love in the form of feeding your people, aloo paranthas as a labor of love etc etc

a labor of love

(also on ao3!)

August, 1970

“Jamie, breakfast’s ready!”

Loud steps thundered around the house as her ten year old raced down the stairs. Euphemia didn’t even bother to reprimand him at this point—she knew it was a pointless endeavour. Instead, she made sure the safety charms on the staircase were always updated.

“HiMumGoodMorningWhatsForBreakfast,” James’ words came out in one single whoosh of air and it was only because this was her child that she had extensive experience with that she could decode what he was saying.

She smiled gently while placing the plate in front of him. “Aloo parantha, honey.”

“Yesss,” James hissed in pleasure, a quick fist pumped in the air, before bending forward with his nose mere millimetres away from the paranthas.

Euphemia swapped the back of his head with a ‘tsk’. “James. How many times have I told you not to smell your food? You’re not a dog.”

“Ma, you don’t get it, okay. It smells so good,” he replied with a goofy, cross-eyed expression. “Seriously, whenever I go to heaven, I just know it’ll smell like fried potato and ghee and coriander. Life can’t get any better than this.”

Euphemia could only smile at the innocent look of wonder on her son’s face as he tore a piece off to stuff it in his mouth, hoping it always stayed there. If she had to keep making him aloo paranthas every morning to keep it there, she’d happily do so.

August, 1976

Sirius huddled closer into the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest and trying to count his breaths so he didn’t go so fast anymore.

It was some ungodly time of the day and he was sitting on the floor, pressed right up against the corner of the living room of Potter Manor, having a minor—really, not a big deal at all—panic attack about…well, everything.

It hadn’t been two days since he’d run away from Grimmauld Place and already the hopelessness was settling into his bones. He couldn’t stop replaying the words and curses and taunts and Reg’s face and—

“Sirius?” A drowsy voice cut through his spiral. He shouldn’t be surprised.

James always had a way of doing that.

“H-Hi, Jamie,” he replied, straightening up and wiping his eyes in a futile attempt to hide the tears he could feel pooling there. It wouldn’t work, he knew that, James always, always knew but he still had to try.

Sure enough, a pair of sock clad feet (adorned in little animated snitches) stopped right in front of him. His gaze traveled slowly, reluctantly, up to see James looking at him with a complicated look on his face. It was a mixture of sadness and frustration and resignation. Sirius hated that he put it there. James wasn’t made for expressions like that—he should always be happy, smiling, and this felt wrong, wrong, wrong.

Before he could do anything, though (not that there was much in his control), a hand entered his vision, palm up in invitation. Without even thinking twice about it—he would always choose James—he let himself be pulled up and straight into strong arms that were the only thing keeping him whole and grounded so far.

The hug ended in less time than it took for him to draw a full, shaky, breath. The abruptness of it left him reeling.

“Come on,” James said, tugging him in the direction of the kitchen. Sirius followed, confused, letting himself be manhandled into the kitchen stool and watched James take something out of the cooking cabinet.

“Boiled potatoes,” he explained, already moving on to the spice rack. “Mum always keeps some ready to go.”

With quick, practiced movements, James had them peeled and mashed. Another sealed container was retrieved—‘Dough. For the rotis’—and a flat top griddle was placed on the stove.

Sirius watched the whole thing in a daze, unable to identify a single thing but being comforted all the same. It felt almost like a ritual; the rhythmic movements of James’ hands as he rolled the dough into balls, and stuffed them with the potatoes. Watching him smooth it out into a round, flat shape.

“I didn’t know you were so proficient in the kitchen, Prongs,” Sirius finally said as the kitchen warmed up from his best mate’s ministrations, the smell of ghee-fried dough and spiced potatoes permeating the air.

“I’m not, really,” James shrugged. “But aloo paranthas are—they’re different, you know? Everyone should know how to make them.“

“I’ve never even tried them.”

“Well, then, everyone should have them at least once in their lives,” James said, firmly.

He placed a plate full of warm, steaming—aloo paranthas in front of Sirius and without even knowing what they really were, he could feel the rest of the tension seeping out of him. It’s a temporary relief, to be sure, but that it happened at all is enough to both awe and excite him.

He looked up at James with wide eyes, only to receive a knowing smile in return.

“Have a bite, Pads,” James pushed the plate closer. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

And he didn’t.

As he sat there and entirely demolished four of the wonderful paranthas—after days of not feeling the slightest pang of hunger—Sirius was helpless against the warmth that suffused his entire being, not just from the heat of the potatoes, but from the boy in front of him who’d decided to take a chance on him. Decided to welcome him not just in his arms but his house, his family.

August, 1995

“Sirius, why are we here?” Harry asked, confused. A minute ago, they were in the garden, talking about something or the other, and then suddenly his godfather had grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the kitchen.

“Because you, my dear Prongslet, have been severely, unforgivably wronged and it’s time to start rectifying that,” Sirius proclaimed, which really didn’t help.

“…huh?”

“You just told me you’ve never had anything but bland, boring British food. Ever.” Sirius stressed the last word, making a point Harry wasn’t quite sure of.

“Yes…because the Dursleys are raging racists and Hogwarts isn’t too creative with its culinary choices,” Harry slowly said, feeling eerily like he was defending himself for…not being able to have a diverse palette?

“Exactly. If James had a grave, he’d be rolling around in it.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Look, I was supposed to do this for you since the day you were old enough to eat solids. That I didn’t…well. Let’s not go there right now. But now that I do have the chance, it’s practically first on the list of my godfatherly duties—“

“What is, Sirius?” Harry asked, slightly exasperated. The man was making no sense.

“Making aloo paranthas, Harry! Come on, keep up, it’s bad enough you’ve gone this far without—any longer and I swear, James will find a way to come back to wring my neck and tie you to a chair just so he could force feed you,” Sirius finished, a slightly haunted look in his eyes like he was speaking from experience.

Harry blinked. What—?

“Now, luckily for us, the boiled potatoes are already done. You’ve got me to thank for that bit of foresight, of course, never go without since fifth year—“

“Why?”

“—because they’re so versatile—“

“Right, of course, how silly of me.”

“Yes. So, now you’ve gotta peel and mash it, and none of that ricer or fork nonsense, either, okay? You’ve gotta really get in there with your hands.” Sirius demonstrated by taking one slightly cold potato from the bowl, expertly peeling and crushing it between his fingers. He kept going until it was almost smooth, with just the smallest hint of texture. Once done, he turned expectantly towards Harry, eyebrow raised and ‘go on’ written all over his face.

Still slightly bemused, Harry stepped forward and gingerly took a potato of his own. Trying to peel it was—not as easy as he thought and everything else faded away as he concentrated on making sure no brown bits remained. It was a surprisingly soothing task. When he had his first potato peeled and mashed, he turned to Sirius proudly.

“There. What next?”

Sirius nodded in approval. “Now, we do the rest of it.”

And standing there shoulder to shoulder, the two of them managed to get through a veritable mountain of boiled potatoes, interspersed with Sirius’ stories of the Potters, a rare, greedy pleasure for Harry.

“Your grandmum, Euphemia, she’d make this for breakfast every so often. It was James’ favorite and she could never resist his great, big eyes—you get that from him, by the way. Not many people could, mind, but it was particularly effective when he wanted to scam some paranthas out of her.”

and “Your dad wasn’t the best in the kitchen, but this was one thing he was absolutely adamant he learn. Spent hours with Effie and Rani perfecting it, as well.”

Once the potatoes were done, Sirius directed him to the spice cabinet. “Now, this is the most important bit, Harry. Everyone makes their aloo paranthas in their own way. You can have different people following the same recipe and all of their final results would still taste different.”

Harry nodded in understanding. It was a bit like Aunt Petunia’s prized Roast Dinner—she always claimed no one else could make it the way she could, not even letting Harry close to the preparation of it.

“The first time I had this was in fifth year—similar to you, come to think of it—and I’ve experimented after, right? It was so good I had to. I went to many, many places in muggle London—roadside stalls to fine dining, you name it—and not once have I felt the same as when your dad made it with his eyes still half closed and the paranthas a little burnt on the edges and a bit undercooked in the middle. There’s no competition. So. It’s all in the spice, yes?”

Sirius handed him the container of carom seeds. “That being said, the most important bit?”

Harry leaned forward, eager, all hesitation forgotten in the face of a piece of his culture, his family being passed down to him like this.

“You’ve got to—“

August, 2017

“—measure with your heart, okay, Lils?”

Little Lily Luna Potter, only nine but adopting an air of maturity of someone much older, nodded solemnly, taking her dad’s word as gospel.

“This isn’t just food—this is you telling someone you love them. It’s a warm hug. Feeding someone, taking care of them, is no small job. So, forget all this measurements nonsense and just get in there,” Harry finished, nostalgia coating his words as he quoted his own godfather word for word.

“Get in there, Daddy!” Lily-Lu repeated empathetically.

“That’s right,” Harry chuckled, using one hand to ruffle the riotous mane of red curls piled on top of her head. “The next thing to go in is the powdered spices. Which ones are those, again?”

Lily-Lu squinted thoughtfully. “Coriander powder, red chili powder, tyoo-mer-ic, and cumin powder. That’s all of it, right, Daddy?”

Harry smiled at her serious countenance. “There’s just one more you’re missing.”

She frowned, biting her lip and mumbling under breath. “One more? Coriander…chili…cumin…and—and—garam masala! It’s garam masala, isn’t it?” The last few words were said in an excited shout, almost loud enough to startle him but he could only lean forward and place a quick kiss on her forehead in approval.

“Sure is, sweetheart. You’re a quick one, aren’t you?”

“I’m smart, Daddy, you and Mummy say so,” Lily-Lu returned, self-satisfaction radiating from every inch of her little frame

“That’s because you are; the smartest of us all, isn’t it?” Harry teased, while carefully mixing the spices with the potatoes. This one he’d do himself—Lily-Lu’s hands weren’t the steadiest yet.

“Oh!” She exclaimed suddenly, leaning forward. “The salt! You forgot the salt, Daddy.”

Harry blinked in surprise, looking down at his array of ingredients and realised he had.

“Huh. So I have, it seems. Would you like to do the honours, Lulu?” He extended the container towards her, smiling once again at how she was practically vibrating in excitement.

Harry was—not just glad but utterly ecstatic that he could do this, had the opportunity and ability for it. And he had no one but Sirius to thank for it.

Taking care of me even from the afterlife, aren’t you, Siri? he thinks with a silent offering of gratitude to the universe. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for it, for everything.

“And now, the absolute final step?”

“The chopped coriander!” Lily-Lu chirped, already reaching forward to clasp a handful of coriander he’d prepared beforehand. She sprinkled it all over their mixture with a high, bright giggle and Harry could’ve spent an eternity in that moment, with his child beside him and the weight of his family behind him.

#euphemia potter #james potter #sirius black #harry potter #lily luna potter #this is perhaps the most personal thing i’ve ever written.#no other piece of work has more of me and my life in it #and i don’t it will either. i’m not a huge fan of ~reality yeah?#but i was eating aloo paranthas my aunt made me today. feeling exceptionally content.#and remembering the time my grandma made the same for me #and how the way my aunt and mom make it is the literal same taste bc rhe learnt from their mom (grandma)#and how i’m learning to make it the exact same way (about. 75% there i’d say)#and i’m feeding my friends and enjoying seeing the joy on their face #so aloo paranthas are like. nostalgic. and a labor of love. and a symbol of family and affection and generational habits passed down #so u have a whole fic around it bc projection is what i do best #i’m still v apathetic to identity headcanons for the same reasons as before #but this had to be done so that issue is put to the side for a while #also like. why is posting on tumblr so fkn difficult my god #why does it not accept formatted stuff 😭#i’m sure there’s a way to do it but i’m either too stupid or too lazy #but that and the weird spaces it adds between paragraphs will be the death of me some day #anyway. enjoy! i have lots of thoughts about it so feel free to come talk to me about it #massively restraint in myself in the tags & authors notes #this was just supposed to be a lil tumblr drabble but it. just. Grew?#so yah.#pen’s writing

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