#the fucking walnut breads my god

[fernforest16]

German cake appreciation post

Holy fuck why does nobody talk about this. Okay France has pastries and Italy has bread etc etc but Germany? Best cake in the world. Goddamn. There’s this giant range of traditional cakes that are sold by the slice so you try em all with a group of friends/family over coffee. There is cake Everywhere. Most of the time it’s Kuchen-not layered/frosted, like a coffee cake. That is usually sheetpan-baked and comes marbled with pudding, yoghurty cheese, cinnamon sugar, streusel, apple, plum, poppy seeds, berries, cheesecake, honeyed almonds………anything your sugar-loving heart could imagine. Kuchen also refers to what Americans would call tarts and pies. And then there are tortes, which are layered with all of the above plus ganache, frosting, more pudding, etc, more like an American layer cake. God i love it. I love it all. Genuinely have never had better cake in my life than here. I want to cry holy shit

[themotherofhorses]

Handmaid!reader and Aemond having a picnic with Vhagar in the background and playing with their children.

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

notes: dad!aemond makes my ovaries hurt so fucking much.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

The morning of their planned family picnic dawned bright and sunny, with only a few puffy white clouds scattered across the sky. Such a perfect summer day, and his twin boys were beyond excited, nothing more than a pair of pups bouncing and wagging and yapping at their sire’s feet. Large, twinkling violet eyes and small pouts they gave him, and he could not say no to them.

So Aemond called for a royal cook to pack them a lunch before telling his sweet girl to dress comfortable, in one of the pretty and thin dresses he had tailored for outside events.

At midday, they settle outside King’s Landing, along the Blackwater Rush, tucked within a flowered grove with cool green grass and shade. The currents are wicked and treacherous, they warn their children. Do not venture too close, lest you be drowned in the waters.

But the boys are too taken with Vhagar, who slumbers behind them, to care the slightest about the river.

His handmaid sits beside him, upon the thick fleeced blanket, nursing their new daughter at her breast. Her back is to their sons, but Aemond has a feeling she’s aware of their every move around his dragon. Mother’s instincts. But gods, she’s so pretty in the sunlight, he thinks, with her arms filled with his own, and he’s stricken with lovesickness once again.

“Sweet, isn’t it?” Aemond asks.  

She lifts her head to look at him. “Hm?” Her voice is soft, airy and calm. “What is sweet?”

He gestures around them, to their woven picnic basket and the great rushing river, and their children and the beauties of the land. Scattered about the blanket is half a suckling pig and buttered turnips and a piping nutty bread loaf, as well as a pigeon pie, at the request of their twins. “Everything in this very moment.” He lifts his chalice to his lips, taking a quick sip of his mead.

“It is peaceful, quiet, and just our family- the way it should be. We ought to do this more. There is no need to worry about bloodshed and wagging tongues and wandering eyes. It’s just us.”

We’re husband and wife, he wants to add, but instead remains silent.

The elm, the alder, and the black cottonwood see us as nothing more, and nothing less.  

She smiles. “Yes, my prince,” she agrees, before glancing back down, to stroke their daughter’s browbone with her thumb, and coo at the little noises. Alysanne, they named her, after her own grandmother and the Good Queen Alysanne. She had been born during the early springtime, while a thunderstorm raged outside, and her father wept tears of joy inside. She has her mother’s features, to his delight.  

“Ah, well, it seems you were quite hungry, my little one,” she tells the babe, giggling.

“She’s a dragon, my love. Perhaps she wishes to grow as big and strong as Vhagar.”

“Maybe.”

Aemond snags two pieces of the bread and hands her one, before plopping the other in his mouth. It’s still warm on his tongue, and he can taste the sweet walnuts and hazelnuts, and the pumpkin and oat seeds.

It’s then that one of their boys- the youngest of the two, Aenar, creeps behind his father, before flinging his arms around his neck. “Hello, father,” he whispers, nuzzling his plump face against Aemond’s cheek. Aemion slides next to his mother, kissing her on the cheek. Both boys are red-cheeked and bubbling with breathless laughter, clutching their tiny wooden stick swords in their hands.

Their mother clicks her tongue. “Are you thirsty?” she asks, reaching for the water jug. “And look at you! All sweaty and soiled, what shall we ever do with the both of you?” Aemond takes the little Alysanne from her arms as she tends to the boys, washing the sweat and dirt from them with a cool, damp cloth. But she’s laughing too, and it soon makes him laugh as well.

Aemond leans in, sniffing Aenar. “You smell more dragon than human now. Should your mother and I be worried you’ll sprout wings tonight?”  

“Vhagar allowed for us to climb her legs!” Aenar exclaims, wiping his fingers on his tunic, then chewing on a piece of meat he stole from his father’s plate. Aemion nods from where he’s seated in his mother’s lap, nestled against her chest.  

“We felt like you, father! Big and strong and ready to claim a dragon of our own!”

Aemond smiles, and his handmaid giggles, and he reaches out to hold her hand in his. As their sons keep recounting their previous enjoyment with Vhagar, their fingers twine together as husband and wife.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess

[transgenderer]

i think i i could eat high quality bread basically forever. it doesnt flag my satiety receptors. id be on the edge of vomiting from overeating and id still be nibbling on my newest slice. fuck the walnut bread is so good. it waasnt at the grocery store last time na di was wqorried it was seasonal or somehting but then it was back. god is real and his light shines on e

[im-notbean]

Headcannons of; Quackity x Greek! Male! Reader

On god bro. I just really want somebody who speaks Greek on the QSMP. So in orderto cure this fantasy of mine I have now created this, sorry if you dont like the fact that Y/N is greek but I had to do it. Sooner or later okay-

⚠︎ Warning ⚠︎

Swearing

Some cultural things you might not understand

Might not be accurate to the cannon QSMP

This post has both Q!Quackity and CC!Quackity

Grammar mistakes

Characters might be a bit off to you

Mentions of Homophobia

Author kinda pools info about greek food-

If anything bothers you from above please, don't read!

CC!Quackity

・Your accent>>>>>>

・I'm sorry but he just loves it, especially when you pronounce certain words.

・Like saying yogurt and bread shit like that you know?

・If you say Alex in greek he gets scared- (Άλεξ [Álex] might not be accurate lol)

・Praise. Him. In. Greek.

・He get's so mad if you don't, goes full on Mexican on your ass-

・Quackity definitely respects your boundaries, so he'd ok with you not wanting to be public about your guy's relationship

・Especially with Twitter and shit (I refuse to call Twitter "X")

・Makes the funniest jokes and yall know those corny ass pick up lines

・Like "I wish you were my Xbox, cause I wanna play you all~~ night ♡"

・He definitely does those daily

・He can't cook for shit, so you have banned him from the kitchen

・It's always akward explaning that to your parents...

・Quackity loves it when you cook for him

・Especially Greek deserts (I'm just gonna fanboy over greek food for a hot minutes)

・Like tiramisu or like those almond cookies

・OR FUCKING BAKLAVA

・OR EVEN LOUKOUMADES

・Incase you don't know what I'm fanboying over, Tiramisu is an Italian dish so I'm not gonna go over it in much detail

・Basically a layered desert with espresso innit

・Baklava is one of the MOST iconic Greek deserts, it's layered with phyllo pastery, melted butter, and nuts!

・The most common are pistachios and walnuts by the way and theirs a layer of cinnamon-orange syrup pored over it once it is baked!

・Loukoumades are the Greek version of fried dough, their normally topped with honey, cinnamon, and walnuts.

・Anyway...

・He loves then sm

・If yall decide to make your relationship public, he wants you to decide how to do it.

・I personally believe you take over his stream one day as his "Special Guest"

・A cooking stream because y'know- it's iconic

・Your baking a classic greek disk.

・Gyro (Pronouced Yee-ro by the way)

・Basically Gyro is a dish that is a mix of lamb and beef (sometimes chicken too) that is made to fill pita bread.

・The sauce that is paired with is called tzatziki (it's really fucking good.) it normally has tomatos and onions and paied with greek fries.

・So your cooking the meat and stuff and Quackity just comes up behind you and you turn around right cause you know he's their

・So quickly, you bend down and kiss him.

・A little smooch before you kick him out th kitchen-

Q!Quackity

・You guys met on the train to the island.

・He tried talking to you but he seriously could not understand you, it wasas if you were speaking another language.

・When the government had paired people up, you didn't get a partner :(

・You also didn't really want an egg either, but you didn't mind babysitting them!

・Phil is so greatful for this-

・Quackity had heard about your egg sitting and decided to leave Tillin (I think i butchered this ngl) in your care

・Tillin loved you, she also liked the fact that she could understand you and offered as a translator.

・When Quackity came back he was surprised to see his own child translating what you were saying

・Once the new members joined you were assined partners with Tubbo (I am not sure if the new members have assigned parners ngl so...also are we getting new members today?)

・(Not even joking- ANYWAY LMAO)

・So y'know how Tubbo can get info out of Curchuro (prob butchered that again lol)

・You can do it also, sence your the only person on the server who can speak greek and not English he thinks the info he tells you is safe.

・You get Tillin to translate to Tubbo about what Curchuro tells you >:D

・Quackity learns about this and then he realized what the fuck is happening

・The he realized one day, you were gone.

・Along with the eggs.

・He never realized how much he liked you until you left...

・Quackity tried looking for you and the eggs

・But he never got far

・Tubbo also tried to help look for you, to no avail

・Not gonna lie, you and Phil got locked in a cage togther 😂

[elderflowerchampagne]

165 (1/28 late)

I skipped writing one of these for 164, but all I have to say about that one is God bless Matilda and everything you've heard about Tim J porter is true. I watched open-mouthed.

I was supposed to go for my birthday/12 year anniversary on January 6, but the fucking rona finally got me.

Well, everyone, what the hell. It's February 10 and we're still here, though who knows for how much longer? *Paulie Walnuts voice* If I wanted to get jerked around I'd go to ya motha's house and she'd do it for free. But I am a sucker and a devotee and will remain so until the end, and thus today I do what is only my second ever double.

In any case, here's what I've learned in the visits since the announcement, and the announcement after the announcement, and the announcement after the announcement after the announcement: I can't do the thing where I say, "And this is the last time I'll see X, and goodbye forever Y." Just can't do it. Because when I'm there all I can do is be happy and grateful that this beloved place is still around to hide me, and I won't waste any of the precious few remaining hours there being sad.

I've never seen Robyne/Hecate but her bar character is exceedingly wonderful.

I wasn't supposed to be there at all, but was able to snag a last-minute ticket to say goodbye to a few old favorites, Jenna most of all.

Fuck those two kids in the bread ad on Gallow Green. They know what they did.

The Bald/Macduff neck snap is gone and I am quite upset.

Toward the end of the evening, I just stood on Gallow Green and thought, "Today was supposed to be the end, and it's not. But what would I do if it was? What would I do if this was really the end of this whole thing, and I only had these forty or so minutes left?" What I'd do, apparently, is go into Paisley Sweets and cram a bunch of black licorice in my mouth, and then go upstairs and slip a piece into the mouth of my beloved laundry coyote. Thanks, old pal.

My last and only double was five years, a pandemic and several pounds ago. As soon as I finish typing this I'm gonna sit on my parents' living room floor and stretch. Because I am the same idiot I was when I was 19, just with a credit card.

[cometrose]

let me try to get all of my hunger game feelings down as quickly as possible

first of all, what a series it was so much better than i remember and i don't like 10 year olds should've been allowed to read this but i think for the most part all of the traumatic shit went over their heads

peeta my son, he has been reduced to a soft spoken bread boy over the years and i did not remember or realize how charming he was in the book gosh he is my babygirl and so sweet

in the first book he was an absolute treasure like the way he flirts with katniss the way he moves a crowd im in awe like i fucking love the interview scene in the first book and the movies do it such a disservice because his crush confession is so shocking that everybody kind of gasps like he has stolen this crowd at the show (im kind of sad cause caesar and peeta duo was so iconic naturally stars)

god katniss my dear i don't know where to start with her

i had no idea she was such a shitty narrator like if i didn't already know the entire plot i might have believed her crazy ass. Especially in the first book the girl is insane. peeta is living his terrible life with a crush while katniss is having a one sided enemies to lovers moment all in her fucking head. It is not until the train home that its like oh he was serious ofc you fucking walnut.

katniss is the star but everyone with eyes knows that if you take peeta away from her she'll breakdown and thats the cruelest part. I think if I was Snow i would've left katpee alone idk why put the spark back in the spotlight ya know?

the second book peeta was another beam of light god the baby line is so iconic and he deserved it malewife manslaughter manipulate he has done it all and did it flawlessly

and he’s still so sweet like trying to get katniss to leave him or backing off when he thinks she's with gale he always so respectful of her space

the fucking locket and pearl are very special to me like he knows and SHE KNOWS there is nothing left for him in 12 but she doesn't listen

there is so much warmth in him from painting rue's portrait for the gamemakers or offering gifts to district 11 like he didnt know thresh and rue but he knew how much it meant to katniss and how awful it was for them to die. Even him talking the morphling as they died just gently describing his paintings and rainbows was so precious

And I think about katniss and peeta were labeled as rebels for simply showing acts of kindness I like how he gets mad and that gentleness disappears but there is always a reason behind it, and him taking care of haymitch is just the sweetest he has attitude but so much warmth

then in MJ goodness its a lot first the torture and then risking it all to warn the rebels and then later like yes he tried to kill katniss but she overlooked it and so will i and hes so mean and cruel when he's out of his mind but can you blame him its not like he's lying??

the moments where that gentleness comes out again are so precious to me when he bakes annie and finnick's wedding cake when he talks sweet to delly its the little moments and how like every single book before he still wants katniss to live and he's crying and begging for death and digging his arms into his wrists to hold himself together

in the end he still wont let katniss die and the first thing he fucking does after getting out of wherever the fuck they stored him was to plant primroses in front of her house and i love him so much

he's really smart its just that no one tells him the fucking plan ever even though they all agree he's a great fucking actor

He knows he hold katniss back and he wants her to let him go but she wont and he wont let her go either and he gives her space to sort out her feelings like yes he loves her he always has and he has never tried to push her and he's just a kind person and i really really really that

At the end of the day i will always treasure a character who is simply a good person

Katniss has her moments of frustration but I don't think I can ever get mad at her because like peeta she is a genuinely good person.

Don't listen to her shitty inner monologue she doesn't have a fucking clue she is so empathetic and compassionate and caring she might not be outwardly sweet but she shows it with her actions, with rue, prim, peeta, everyone and everybody her kindness knows no bounds and she does it because she desperately wants to protect the people she loves

I think so much is lost from katniss' character into shitty ya dystopias of the 10s is that compassionate. She did not become a symbol of rebellion because she really wanted to she did it to protect the people she loves every act of rebellion was a show of love and compassion whether it is burying a little girl and singing her to her death or risking it all to help as many people as she can

peeta says it the best that she has no idea the affect she has on people and her crappy elder sister inner monologue shows that she thinks so little of herself and her ability that she undermines her skills and talents and natural charisma.

So much of her is survival “I want to the people i love to survive” and when innocent people die because of her when her friends fall to save her it hurts and hurts and she is buried under the weight of it all, burying the burden of a rebellion is not something that should be thrust upon a young girl trying to live

she's moody she's feisty but damn does she love deeply and passionately it just looks different.

THG is a very gross book there is no other way to describe everything is far uglier then you remember. The wolf mutts that look like tributes the tears the blood and pain its all so awful. Reading through the pain and the suffering and it does this really odd thing of making you smile in between the moments of terror. I love katniss' flashbacks through the book and how they reveal more and more of the story.

Katniss could have abandoned peeta and left him like he told her too multiple times but she wanted him to live she wanted that boy who gave her bread to survive and she knew if he died she would never recover it may not be the love we are thinking about but it was everything.

I don't think i will forget how awful cato's death is and how my eyes watered reading rue die again. THG is so good and making us despair you come out of that silly book hating nobody there is no tribute that i can afford to hate. The first book has a very unique vibe to it and i like it's style.

CF, catching fire is probably my favorite cause its the least traumatizing. I blame katniss and peeta for that because they are the cutest fucking thing in that stupid book. I argue that it might be a mix of love and codependency thrown in there but the cutest shit.

I totally forgot about the gale katniss love stint at the beginning so that was a total surprise.

I love the cast of catching fire i love them all i love finnick and mags and johanna and beetee and wiress and morphling 6 ( i dont like calling her that) i love the stylists and cinna and effie and i like themmmm. i like them all i love how the city and nation cries for their tributes and you see all of their friends and allies come together before the end begins.

That fucking force field has me smiling every time because its the moment where everybody but katniss realizes how much peeta means to her. The stupid pearl and the stupid locket make my heart hurt because peeta loves her so much and wants her to live and she doesn't care because she'll do anything and everything to keep him alive.

Watching them hold each other in the train, cry over force fields, drag each other through fog and water, hold each other in their arms after terrible jabberjays, even before when she was watching him bring her bread and paint in her home and katniss would stare at his eyelashes. Like she says it would be easy to let peeta go but she will never do that and she can't. Calling out for each other before she blows up the damn force field like fuck you all even if they didn't fall in love i know damn well they should've stayed together.

MJ is such a hollow book you just come out of it with emptiness like im not sad i wont cry but i feel a bit empty because you look at all the things you had and then its all gone, what was katniss fighting for? her sister, her mother, gale? and its all gone in and instant nothing remains, her friends her home the companions she made along the way and it hurts and hurts. You close the book and take a deep sign and just feel whatever is left to feel. Madge's death kind of hurt me she was the symbol behind the symbol and she is just gone. everybody is gone

Like there is nowhere to begin its falling in love even more with finnick and watching him disappear its falling in love with katniss' little camera crew and watching them disappear

its prim the light that started this just disappear and whats left NOTHING

there are so many moments where katniss wants to rip her head off but she can't because she doesn't have time there is no space there is no room its not until she if shipped back to her home all alone that she truly breaks down because she can. there is no more rebellion she has to be strong for there is no prim or mother she has to lead and she is stuck with all the weight all alone.

MJ just left me hollow like maybe if i read this years ago after CF came out i would’ve hand the sticky stuffy feeling i get in chest when i read bittersweet stories but i don’t know if this is sweet enough and it’s not bitter? it’s nothing just nothing is left

i love the parallels the book has with modern society like this is a death game where children have to fight to the death and everyone only paid attention to the love triangle and romance like they did in the games of the fact nobody cared a 16 year old girl would die in senseless violence until they realized she was pregnant like the baby suddenly makes her life valuable

simple acts of kindness labeled as rebellious and innocent children are forced to shoulder the weight of the world when they have no one left. there are so many moments where death would be the kindest thing to any of these characters because they had no hope but hope enters so when they die their death hurts like nothing else.

it tells a story of war and survival that seems so far away but so close. Katniss just wanted to live and the people she loved to live she never asked to become the face of a war but she does it and she stands strong until she can’t anymore i love her and i think her love and empathy has been lost over the years

if i were to talk about the romance okay it’s been years i knew peeta was going to win but seeing him again was so refreshing cause he is so charming and sweet and it makes my heart flutter. if katniss didn’t want him i’ll take him

i don’t hate gale, like his anger and rage caused prim’s death and you can argue having Coin in his ear and having to raise his family all by himself traumatized him so he believes it’s okay to sacrifice innocent lives (children and doctors mind you) for the greater good.

Both boys are rebels and they are good people deep down but peeta is motivated by kindness he does these things because it is the kind thing to do gale does these things because he’s angry for all he has to suffer. Both sides are justified in their feelings but it’s about katniss at the end of the day

there are many moments where katniss is taken back my gale’s cruelness and flame. She doesn’t need him to appeal to her anger to the rebellious aspect of her being. Peeta however appeals to the softer side of her soul the one that nurtures little girls who sings people to sleep he opens up the sweet side of katniss that she is positive doesn’t exist. She can be painfully romantic and she can tell everyone she doesn’t see the beauty in the world but she does she sees it every time.

There is more to katniss that fighting and hunting and i don’t think gale knew that. At the end of the day the only option was Peeta because he complimented the side of her that was buried by the weight of the world and i think that adds more meaning to her life than anything else

there are so many characters to talk about j loved ever second with haymitch and how he acts like he doesn’t care but every single tribute that has come after him has left a hole in his heart. My district 12 tributes are disasters but they truly care about each other probably every only people left in the world who would risk it all

[drowningin-fantasies]

SHE BAKES

honestly don't remember the last food post i put up on this blog. months. this is because i absolutely hate being in the kitchen. im also terrible at photographing food- look at how terrible the above photo is.

this is a vegan banana cake! this was a super easy one bowl recipe. it came out great which im so happy about bc the last cake i made was a vegan mango cake and god, did i fuck that up :)))). this reads more to me as a banana bread/loaf baked in a cake pan rather than an actual cake. is banana bread technically cake, not bread? not sure but i mean texture wise i expect cake to be lighter.

i usually hate add-ins (chocolate and nuts) in my banana bakes, but this would benefit from the addition of walnuts. the original recipe also includes a cookie butter frosting, but i am an anti frosting girl.

anyway it's good! nothing special but cures my craving, and i love how simple this was. ♡

[stronghours]

2023 yule bash menu Alpha - victory lap

SAVORIES

Spiced boiled beef - (17 people annihilated a three pound bottom round of Experiment Meat - I also liked the beef but frankly im kind of astounded at the public reception and wondering if people are pulling my leg. condiments were salted cucumber, mustards, my homemade chili jam, etc.)

Baked sandwich loaf - (did a twisted loaf formation which, in my hubris, did not really gel and each slice of bread subdivided into three separate units when sliced - not the end of the world. I am NOT getting the hang of instant yeast. a good friend's mom sent me a thank-you email that asked if the bread had been Irish soda bread and I was like fuck that would have been WAY more convenient, dammit, thanks a lot Kit)

herbed buttermilk biscuits - (chives & tarragon)

COOKIES

Priyaniki - (a good 1/3 of the honey used was chestnut honey and oh boy does that flavor prevail. can't taste a lick of the anise)

Melomakarona - (generally, the socially easy fav. don't think I did the syrup right this year, the walnut topping didn't want to stick like it used to)

sables bretons - (used cute little cutters for these! scalloped circles and diamonds. probably the best they've turned out in the years of making, still working on the texture/thickness)

CAKE/ISH

the black cake, w/royal icing - (icing this thing makes it WAY more approachable to the Partygoer -easily the most black cake consumed by a party body in the five years of me throwing this damn thing. and in my opinion, the best black cake batch I've ever made - in a fit of pique I removed the egg casing/chalazae from a dozen yolks and made my own browning. I was so sad when I made this cake this year)

country Christmas cake, smothered with quince jam, marzipan, and royal icing - (I was so unhappy with the first try I had to make it again. I almost left it but I was like, NO. I invited my friend above over to watch me bake it while they knitted and then they helped me move a ton of furniture, due to my agonies)

DRINKS

mulled wine - it was there!

eggnog - today, I saw a "sadist dom top" on the Internet say how disgusting eggnog is (curdled mayo - heard it!) personally, I don't think this man is very tough. personally, this man can suck chalazae. online, bitching, like the bitch he is!

GELATINS

three-layer lemon honeycomb mold - half-collapsed?? bad gelatin luck two years in a row! despair!

black velvet & cream jelly - would not leave it's kennel for ages, but held together in one piece, thank god.

last year's party, I enacted a "I am preparing only desserts" rule, which ended up in my accidentally starving myself for a day and a night. this year, someone came up to me and said "thank you so much for not doing desserts-only this year" so now, I guess, I can put doing that again right out of my mind.

[vinyls-and-valentines]

No thoughts, head Cherri Cola at his grandparent's for the holidays. Causing trouble with his cousins

[septiembrre]

I'm not mad for the three word prompts pls xx

“I’m not mad”, 3 word prompts

I couldn’t sleep last night and instead of writing the prompt that has an actual deadline and due in a few days, I decided to write this because @sothischickshe is so nice and keeps giving me internet kudos, and I wanted to answer their prompt. <3 This is kind of a weird, nonsensical conversation. I know I’m not selling it, but truly I wrote it at 3 in the morning. Also yes, there’s lot of endearments in this that haven’t yet been used this way in the show, don’t @ me. 

On Ao3, too. 

Set: One day in the future when Brio is an item. 

-

Beth had made a mistake. She had started the bread late, off schedule.

The meet with their new contact was pushed back from a blithe afternoon meet and greet at Rio’s bar to eight in the evening semi-dinner that wasn’t incredibly tense but not really the kind of thing you actually wanted to eat at. But, regardless of business woes, she was still committed to making walnut bread whether she liked it or not. The parent group for Emma, Jane, and Marcus’s soccer team organized a bake sale for the team. Despite the ever-present shadiness of upper-middle-class, overly prideful parents, she had happily committed herself to three loaves - one for each of the children. It could be worse. At least she was no longer at a stage where all of her babies were elementary school-aged, and running ragged trying to room mother and volunteer at games.

Successful as the day was with their new connects, her whole bread-making schedule had been thrown off. By the time they had gotten home it was after eleven and she just had time to start the bulky second prove before she collapsed in exhaustion from the long day. Rio had tugged her zombie-like to bed.

But that was then and this was - now. Her over-disciplined mind had woken her up at an hour that still qualified as the middle of the night to shape the bread. Beth tried to undergo the mental gymnastics of which floorboards to avoid, to make it all the way to the kitchen without stirring Rio, but damn if she was still tired. He who must not be disturbed was snoring softly at her shoulder. Beth could already hear him, but she would just take it slow. She started first with one arm, and then the next. Limb by limb she freed herself from his all too enticing warmth and peeled away the blankets.

Slowly, she shifted her weight out of the bed, as a hand emerged out from under the piles of blankets to snag her own wrist.

Fuck. She moved two feet and she already got caught.

“Where you goin’?” Rio says it slow, rolling like molasses through his exhaustion and the fog of sleep. Rio always collapses into slumber, chronically under-rested. He took the luxury of rest where he could. It meant he slept heavy and he was always fussy to be interrupted. Beth leans back into the bed and kisses his temple, then his cheekbone.

She leans into his ear to whisper, “I need to go check on the dough.”

Beth strokes the scrunch of his brow, kisses the bridge if his nose. She’s pulling out all the stops.

“Go back to sleep, baby.”

He groans. The sound is loud in the darkness of their bedroom. Beth loves it, she loves him sleepy but holds her ground.

There’s a short pause, as she continues to stroke his temple. She’s hoping he decides to go back to sleep, he’s waiting for her to get back into their bed. For a moment, it’s a stalemate. Then, he gives.

Another groan - a purely theatrical protest, he certainly could answer a work text at any hour of the night.  He runs his hands over his face trying to clear the sleep and then continues to make his little show by lumbering out of bed as if this asshole ever had an ungraceful day in his life. “I’m goin’ wit you.”

She huffs. “I’m fine.”

“Nah, you want to do this now. So we’re gonna do it.”

“Go back to bed.” Beth sternly whispers, trying to keep her voice down. For who she isn’t sure. They’re alone, the kids at their respective parents for the week. Maybe she does it to maintain the decency of the hour.

“You go back to bed.”

His fingers reach out to her, curling under the top of her pajamas, and pulling her closer towards the mattress. Rio’s hands are warm and big against the softness of her skin there. She considers relenting, inviting his body to curl back around her, knows she could probably get an orgasm out of this. But, the children!

“Let’s just buy it tomorrow.”

A year ago she would have scoffed, offended. Now she just rolls her eyes at him the dark. Maybe he can’t quite see but she knows that he knows.

She catches his hands. Slaps him on the wrist.

“If you’re coming with me you have to behave.”

“No.”

“Christopher.”

“Fuck. You sound like my middle school math teacher, Mrs. Ramos-“

“Or like your mother.”

“Or like a really mean librarian. Mrs. Castillo-“

“Oh my god. Let’s go.”

-

Rio collapses on a chair at the island, blearily keeping an eye on her. Beth turns on one of the lights in the kitchen. Halfway through her checking unearthing the proved dough, he starts playing Animal Crossing on his phone. She recognizes the app jingle.

“The kids play that.”

“E’rybody plays it.”

“I mean kids do.”

“Sweetheart, it was on the GameCube in ‘01.”

Beth scrunches her face at him. It’s an ungodly hour, he’s pouting like her youngest, who is for the record an eight-year-old who plays Animal Crossing, and watering his fucking crops or fishing or whatever. She lets herself digress because certainly, she wouldn’t be the first to indulge in childish behavior. Also, the fucking GameCube? This guy. “How old are you again?”

“Four years younger than you.” This is a pattern they’ve fallen into, a refrain. The other day he finally showed her his license but then she reminded him, it could be fake for all she knew.

“No one our age played the GameCube.”

“Your age maybe. My age they did.”

Fuck him.  She glowers.

“What, your old hubby never played Galaga? Or whatever the fuck boorish white dudes played in the 90s? Bet he was a Tetris guy.”

“First of all, Tetris is fine. I’ve seen you play Tetris! And white people play Animal Crossing.” She ends a touch snidely.

“Yeah. Like I said, everybody plays it. Nintendo is the shit.”

She would know. All of her children, and her pseudo-eldest, Annie, cannot remove themselves from whatever the Nintendo calls itself these days. All of Annie’s social media updates have been about her virtual island. And then Ruby had started using Sarah’s console, and joined Annie there - on that island. They took kind-of cute cartoon pictures wearing matching hot pink outfits with what they adamantly claimed was “juice” but was definitely a daiquiri. Beth was just feeling a little left out is all.  

“I thought you said you didn’t like the phone game.”

“It’s not good like the Switch, but it’s a fix.”

“Uh huh.”

“Besides your sister is blowin’ shit way the fuck out of proportion on New Horizons. I already visited her damn tacky island three times this week. She bought a fuckin’ port-a-potty and put it in her house. It’s fuckin’ weird. She kept insisting we take screenshots by it-“

Beth stops listening, distracted as an image of a cartoon Rio drinking mimosas with Annie and Ruby on stylized furniture flashes in her mind's eye.

“Don’t pout, darlin’.”

She scoffs and then her lips purse a little more.

“It ain’t becoming’.”

The bowl she’s working with clatters a bit as her movements become more vigorous.

“Did you just tell me to ‘smile’ at four-thirty in the morning?”

He opens his mouth as if to answer her, shuts it, and pointedly continues tapping on his phone. After a minute he lowers the volume. All that can be heard is the jingle playing softly.

She continues shaping the bread. Rio migrates over to the living room and Beth hears him collapse on the couch. She stores the bread, tucking it back into it’s proving spot, and sets the timer so she can wake up and bake the dough later in the morning.

“Elizabeth.” It’s not lush, weighty like he usually says it. He lets sleep curl around it and soften the syllables. She comes to perch against the open entrance of the living room. Rio’s pulled a blanket down with him on the couch and is being purposefully charming. It works but god is it annoying.

“Sweetheart, c’mere.”

She stares at him.

“Don’t be that way.”

Beth lofts her head. “I’m not mad.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Let’s go to bed.”

“C’mere, please.”

He lifts the blanket. She glimpses his hoodie-clad body underneath and she knows the toasty warmth of his body and she knows she’s mad for no reason, so she tries to get over it, and goes to lie with him on the couch.

They wrap themselves around each other. He kisses her forehead. “You just feel old because it’s five in the mornin’ and that makes everyone feel like shit.” He dips down to kiss the grooves under her eyes. “You interrupted our beauty sleep.”

His kisses travel the frame of her face and then he continues.

“Also, your girlfriends and I aren’t going to decide we all like each other better and un-invite you to the party.” He pecks her lips. “Besides your sister’s a freak and there’s no way she’s replacin’ you as my best friend. No way anyone is replacin’ you.”

“Not even Mick?”

She notices that he makes an uncommitted noise, but allows herself to melt further into their embrace, kisses his shoulder. She lets herself be soft.

“I love you.”

His hands dip lower to the swell of her ass. She can tell he’s eyeing the way her boobs swell up pressed against his chest.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Either say you love me back or go to sleep, Christopher.”

He chuckles and whispers a quick I-love-you into the shell of her ear and then a nip, “How much time we got before you check the bread again?”

Now she’s laughing. Fuck it. They’re up anyway. She kisses him, dips down to suck a mark into one of the wings at his neck.

“Plenty of time.”

[under-the-blue-sun]

blankets, coffees and afternoon naps

summary: Blankets, coffee and afternoon naps have become the new normal.

word count: 1217

rating: general audiences

warnings: profanity

note: just a collection of domestic moments between dan and phil during quarantine written for @stupidity-to-the-max for phandomgives. enjoy ♡

read on ao3

Blankets, coffee and afternoon naps have become the new normal.

Dan sighed fondly as he looked down at Phil sprawled across the couch. He had a bet with Dan that he would stay awake, but he was already fast asleep and fully relaxed, head resting on Dan’s lap, a thousand pillows burying him into the couch. He smiled faintly as he noticed Phil was wearing the mismatching socks he had given him for his 29th birthday. 

As if awoken by Dan’s thoughts, Phil blinked, slowly opening his eyes. 

“Hey.” Dan whispered softly.

“Hey.” Phil murmured, rubbing his eyes as he sat up from Dan’s lap, almost knocking over his half-full coffee mug. “How long was I out?”

“Only half an hour.” Dan said, suddenly shivering as Phil quickly left his legs, grasping his lukewarm coffee cup to conjure some warmth. “Now you have to take the garbage out.”

Phil groaned. “But Mellie is taking it out today, and I already had to deal with her two weeks ago.”

“You shouldn’t have bet on it.” Dan said, smirking arrogantly.

Phil buried his face in Dan’s lap again.

“Bitch.” he called out, muffled.

“Yeah, yeah. Now go back to sleep.”

-

“How do you deal with blocks?”

Phil frowned in confusion and looked up from his laptop, observing the source of the noise across him who was slamming his head on the table. “Blocks?”

“Yes!” Dan called out, exasperated. “Blocks.”

“Like chocolate blocks?” Phil joked, enjoying the annoyance continuing to write all over Dan’s face.

Dan sighed. “I meant like writer’s block.”

“Oh.” Phil said, shrugging and returning to type. “I don’t know. Write about...your mum.”

Dan squinted at him. “You write. How do you cure writer’s block?”

“Well, it’s gonna sound cheesy.”

“Tell me.” Dan said immediately.

Phil stopped typing and looked up, smiling softly. “I write about you.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“It’s true!” Phil exclaimed. “You always give me inspiration to write. there’s so much to write about you.”

“Like what?”

“Well, how you’re kind and soft, even if you pretend not to be, and that you give the best advice, and the best kisses, and you make the best Indian food on this apartment floor, and- you’re just fishing for compliments now.”

“Yup.” Dan said, grinning widely. “I know just what to write about now.”

-

“I think Norman hates me.”

Dan sighed. “You said that five minutes ago, Phil. He is literally a fish. He does not hate you.”

“Yeah, but...seriously. What if he does?” Phil asked.

Dan shook his head. “It’s 3am, Phil. You’re going delusional.”

“I know, but still.” Phil said. “What if I’m feeding him and caring about him and having anxiety dreams about him and he doesn’t care about me at all?”

“Go to sleep.” Dan said.

“But you’re awake!” Phil exclaimed.

“I’m turning the lamp off now.” Dan said, and he did. He closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.

“Good night.” Phil whispered softly.

Dan smiled slightly. “Good night. Norman loves you.”

---

“See? I told you! I fucking told you!”

Phil slammed his head on the cards. “This game is too complicated.”

“No, look at me! Look at me!” Dan shouted, grabbing Phil’s event card and waving it around. “I told you that this was too easy! You can’t just fucking airlift people and send them to different countries! It’s not how the game works! It’s not how any game works!”

“Who cares?” Phil yelled. “I saved the world anyway!”

“Illegally, you dingbat!” Dan said. “We’re playing it again.”

“This is the fifth time.” Phil said.

“I don’t care how many times we’re playing this, we need to get it right.” Dan seethed, already setting up the board again.

-

“Well, this isn’t perfect, but…”

“I love it.” Dan said, eyes shining. 

“Yeah?” Phil said hopefully.

“Yeah.” Dan affirmed, smiling brightly and looking around the dark room filled with candles. He smelt the air.

“You even put my favourite scented candles. I thought we were out of them.”

“I ordered some online.” Phil said. 

Dan put his hand over his heart. “Oh my god, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Phil beamed. “You look good tonight.”

“You too.” Dan said, taking a seat. “So, Mr Lester, what do we have tonight?”

“I have made three courses for you - appetizers, main and dessert. And bread, if that counts as a course.” Phil said. He hesitated before continuing, glancing at Dan’s lightly lit face.

“Go on.” Dan whispered, urging him to go on.

“Okay, so for the entree I made a beef carpaccio with avocado and walnuts, seasoned with salt and pepper. For main we have polish pork and cabbage stew with fresh marjoram with a side of fava bean salad with goat's cheese. Lastly, for dessert I made rhubarb tart with pistachio ice cream, and an attempt of Japanese mochi. All of this is with the non-burnt homemade sourdough bread I made last week, and butter from Sainsbury.” Phil said. “I hope you like it.”

“God, Phil. You did so much.” Dan said. “You didn’t have to do that much.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to. You’re worth it.” Phil said.

“I don’t know what to say.” Dan breathed.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Phil said, smiling softly. “It was nothing.”

Dan looked at Phil directly. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Phil grinned. “I love you too. I’ll bring out the food now.”

“Chef, waiter and boyfriend. How much do I have to tip you tonight?” Dan teased.

“You’re my tip for tonight.” Phil said, kissing Dan’s forehead.

“We’re gross, aren’t we?” Dan called out as Phil got their appetizers and bread.

“Definitely.” Phil shouted back. “It’s great.”

-

“In summary, if you try to rap one more time, I will literally cry.” Phil finished.

“What are you talking about?” Dan said, still speaking into the faux microphone. “I sounded great.”

“I rate that performance a -8/10.” Phil said.

Dan pouted. “You’re so mean.”

“You barely said one quarter of the words in that song.”

“A for effort?”

“F for failure.”

“Fine, I rate your Britney a 0.”

“You already rated an 11! You’re not allowed to change it!”

“Since when? Hit Me Baby One More Time? More like “Hit Me Baby Zero More Times Because Phil Is So Bad At Singing It”.” Dan said, changing the song already.

Phil rolled his eyes. “You think you’re so funny.”

“Oh, you love me, shut up.” Dan said, getting read to rap into the microphone.

-

“You left your coffee in the microwave.” Phil yelled.

“Just heat it up again and give it back to me.” Dan yelled back, eyes refusing to leave the computer and fingers fervently glued to the keyboard. 

“Here you go.” Phil said, smiling as he put the lukewarm cup on the counter next to Dan. “How’s your writing going?”

“Good.” Dan said, continuing to type.

“Fixed your block?” Phil asked, sitting on the couch next to him.

“Yep.” Dan said, shutting his laptop. “Thanks for the advice.”

“What advice?” Phil asked.

“You.” Dan replied, adjusting the blanket hanging over his legs to share with the very confused Phil. “Let’s see if you manage to stay awake through this episode.”

Blankets, coffee and afternoon naps, they decided, were the best kind of normal.

[jenroses]

idk how to translate today’s recipes into “someone else can make them” because my recipes are sometimes very serendipitous and convenience based. 

like I salted a turkey with smoked salt last night and put it in the fridge and then told my husband to stick it in the oven at noon at 250 and he did and when I got up I bumped it up to 300 for a while and cooked bacon and squash and lupin on the next shelf down, by turns, and then dumped some of the bacon grease on the skin (not much, just, a little, and tossed the bacon in the turkey pan and then when it was about an hour from when I wanted to eat I checked the temp and it was 139 between the breast and the thigh and so I jacked up the oven temperature and took out the squash and lupin and hit it at 450 for half an hour and while it was doing that I nuked a bunch of riced cauliflower with some bacon grease and chicken stock and let me tell you the stinky is not pleasant in the microwave.

Then I turned the turkey around and gave it 15 more minutes, and made cranberry sauce at some point with cranberries, allulose and monkfruit/erythritol plus orange zest and vanilla and my GOD is that the distilled essence of Holiday.  When the turkey came out, I took some of the juices and put them in the blender with the cauliflower and put a couple of spoons of “stuffing master” (everything but the croutons and fruit) in with it along with some of the bacon from the turkey pan and pureed the heck out of it and while I’d planned on it being a potato sub, it ended up being exactly the consistency of gravy? And tasted like gravy? And I’d been sort of mourning gravy because I don’t know how to do it without carbs and my blood sugar has been all over the place even not eating carbs....

Anyway. So the cauliflower turned into gravy, and so my final plate included turkey, butternut squash with cauli gravy, herby ground lupin with stuffing fixings and cauli gravy, decadent cranberry sauce and dad’s green beans with slivered almonds and garlic and you know what?

My blood sugar stayed flat all day. On Thanksgiving.

And I didn’t feel deprived or hungry at all. 

Everything tasted good and “like it’s supposed to.”

and fuck if I know if anyone else could replicate it from that. 

Also, how do people make dry turkey? Because I’m not sure I ever have? I’ve eaten dry turkey, but I tend to hit it with a lot of heat for a little while and cook it for a long time at low heat and/or/vice/versa, and I don’t fuck around with basting. 

(I feel like there are two temperatures for cooking meat: Low and very high. Low you do to get the temp up on a big piece of meat, high you do to capitalize on the maillard reaction for flavor. I cook prime rib in a similar way. Duck gets 20 minutes at 450 and then *waves hand* a while at 250-300 and then 450 for some more time, and this is always informed by how late I start it and when I want to eat.)

Here’s my dad’s recipe for “stuffing master”, which he adds to just about anything depending on allergies:

Stuffing master mix is breakfast sausage, diced celery, chopped parsley, toasted walnuts, ground sage, ground celery seed. [plus, if desired, some combination of apples, dried cranberries. He’s used raisins in the past but switched to dried cranberries at some point. The nuts are optional but a nice texture. This is one of the only situations I actually like walnuts very much.]

Brown the sausage, then add water to just cover the sausage and cook down, leaving some water in the pan. [the water both helps regulate the cooking temperature in the pan and helps deglaze the sausage drippings and keeps them from burning.]

Remove the sausage and chop into 1/2 inch slices. [this is important because the juices from the sausage will help leak out and flavor the turkey drippings, which get used for gravy later.]

Sauté the celery and parsley in the sausage pan until the celery is softened. [this gives the sausage fond a chance to help flavor the parsley and celery. also less dishes, bonus.]

Toast the walnuts on the stove top in a dry pan, flipping often. [important to do this separately in a dry pan. it’s a texture thing.]

Combine the sausage, celery, parsley and walnuts. 

Sprinkle on some sage and celery seed to taste. Voila. 

At this point, if my guests are tolerant of carbs, I usually add in a chopped apple and a handful of dried cranberries. 

This then becomes the base for whatever starch you care to add (bread cubes, bread crumbs, rice, wild rice, etc.) and whatever liquid works for you (we use chicken broth, although we sometimes make a turkey broth the day before if we are roasting 2 turkeys.)

[amount of said starch is going to be very much by feel, as will the liquid. In my case I used about 2/3 of a cup of part garlic herb lupin and part regular plain lupin, at a 1:4 ratio with chicken stock, mixed with a cup or two worth of stuffing master. 2 spoons of stuffing master flavored the gravy/puree.]

Our socially distant Thanksgiving was fine. My kid was chattering with his cousin on speaker phone, which meant there was a background bustle from both households cooking, but we weren’t actually getting in each other’s way. We ate at our own pace, and then did a zoom call with the whole family (all my children! My niece! My sister! My parents! All at once in six windows!) that was just about the right amount of socializing, and then we went off and did our own thing. It was less stressful and painful than if we’d shlepped over there for it.

We swapped sides and ingredients a few times, on the porch, remote no-contact drops like some goddamn spy movie, so I got some of Dad’s stuffing master, hubby got regular stuffing from Dad, Dad got oyster dressing from hubby, Hubby got gravy, I got green beans from them, we sent squash and turkey to my eldest, my eldest got gravy and a pie from their grandparents. 

Lupin is something you don’t see much in the US, but it’s like mostly protein, fiber and fat, tiny amount of carb, and the taste is good, though I’m still on the fence about the texture. It cooks kind of like couscous? But tastes closer to lentils? It’s a legume, and a reasonable side dish, and super compatible with my need to keep net carbs down and fiber/protein/fat up. (If I don’t eat carbs I don’t have to use much insulin, and since my metformin has been recalled, it’s the only way I can keep things stable. My A1C last month was 5.5, so I think I’m managing. Steroid-induced diabetes is a bitch.)

[lemondropsssss]

Jaskier spends what feels like an eternity wrapped up in Geralt’s arms. He hadn’t expected the embrace to last so long, but each time he goes to pull away Geralt makes a glorious growling sound and tightens his grip and really, how is Jaskier supposed to argue with that? He feels safe for what he realizes is the first time in a long time. Geralt’s scent hasn’t changed, is still the same leather-sword oil-horse-musk that is somehow intoxicating. So he tucks himself under his Witcher’s chin and just breathes, and to his amazement Geralt lets him- no, wants him , is holding him as if he’s important, and it warms him from the inside out.

“We should get back to the house,” Geralt says eventually, voice rumbling in his chest as he pulls back and looks the scant inch down at him. Jaskier steels himself for whatever pity might await him when he meets his gaze but there is none. Just a kind of calm fondness Jaskier hasn’t seen before. “I don’t like leaving Fiona alone for too long.”

“She’s fourteen, I think she can handle a hot mug on her own by now,” Jaskier mutters, not caring that Geralt can absolutely hear him, but he steps away all the same.

Geralt grunts back, but Jaskier can tell he’s smiling. It’s all in the eyes crinkles, after all. “C’mon, say your goodbyes so we can go.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes but does go give Roach one last pat, reminding her that she is practically perfect in every way and such a good horse and better than Geralt and it’s not as if he actually walks anywhere, unlike some very good horses I could name. Geralt’s smile grows to almost-visible-to-the-naked-eye, but he soon pulls Jaskier away with a muttered, How many times do I have to tell you to stop trying to fuck my horse, and the exasperatedly fond look on his face makes Jaskier’s stomach swoop.

He’s still angry. Still sad. Still doesn’t believe him, is still waiting for the moment Geralt will turn around and leave him alone in the dust like so many times before. It will hurt when he goes, surely, but at least this time Jaskier will be prepared for it. He’s built himself a life outside Geralt, his world won’t come to a screeching halt when he leaves. And maybe if Jaskier proves he can handle himself without his scary Witcher around, said scary Witcher would be more inclined to visit. But he does like this feeling. Walking side by side again, shoulders brushing companionably, how achingly familiar it all is.

The front window is vacant when they pass, and Jaskier assumes Ciri’s gone up to bed courtesy of Bea’s sleepy tea. He’s surprised then to find the teen sat up on the countertop, potato in one hand and paring knife in the other. She has a look of fierce concentration on her face as she works carefully, the tip of her tongue clenched between her teeth. Bea is close by, up to her elbows in flour and wrestling with a shaggy bread dough while still keeping a close eye on both Ciri and the pot bubbling over the hearth; the woman is a master, and Jaskier stops to watch her with a smile on his face.

“Geralt!” While he’d been distracted by the domestic scene, Geralt had come in behind him and was now crossing the room with the softest look Jaskier has ever seen on his face.

“G’morning, cub.” Geralt presses a kiss to her temple, and Jaskier has to stop himself from staring; both at the pet name and the very public display of affection. Public being only two other people of course, but that was still rather public to Geralt of Rivia. Ciri must be used to the attention for she pays it no mind, which confounds him even more. “Julian said you didn’t sleep well. More of the dreams?” He tucks an errant lock of hair behind her ear and it’s the thoughtlessness of the motion that stands out to Jaskier.

This is a kind of casual and easy affection he’d only seen- well, that he’d only seen with him. Usually in a liminal time; in a shared bed some fuzzy between awake and sleep, or after the sixth ale of  a long night, pressed together in a dark corner of a tavern. And Geralt would sweep a hand across his, or press their knees together under the table, or curl a protective arm around his waist while they slept. Seeing that affection here, in the bright light of morning is something he wasn’t prepared for, and he takes a seat at the table lest his legs fail him.

Ciri and Geralt are oblivious to his confusion; she’s showing him how her knife skills have improved, and he’s watching her with a kind of fond fascination Jaskier’s never seen before but finds he quite enjoys. He looks up suddenly, their eyes meet, and Geralt’s expression turns to something more Jaskier can’t even begin to place. This man who gives affection freely and without pause is not the Geralt familiar to him.

It isn’t long before Bea finishes setting out a proper morning meal, and Jaskier can’t help but feel a crippling domesticity as they sit down to eat. Their breakfast is porridge with honey and cream, sausages, and the good brown bread that Bea has refused to ever share the recipe for, no matter how much coin Jaskier offers her. She doesn’t sit to eat, which doesn’t surprise him, but she does continue to work on whatever lunch is going into the pot over the hearth.

It’s a good breakfast, and good company. Ciri does wonders towards greasing the conversation, and Geralt says more than a few grunts in passing, which Jaskier considers a monumental feat. But they came to him for a reason and needs must, so Jaskier steers the conversation back towards the business that brought them to his doorstep.

“When you came to me at the University, you said you needed help. What kind? Money, clothes, food?” It’s blunt, but Jaskier would rather know now what the price for this visit will be.

Geralt looks thrown for a moment before he answers. “All of the above. We’re heading North, towards Kaer Morhen. We need,” He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the actual asking part of asking for help, “Money, yes, and winter clothes. Another mount. Fiona needs a better disguise; cutting her hair, dye maybe- maybe even for both of us.” He makes a face at that and Jaskier wants to laugh; Geralt always did love his hair. “We stand out, it makes us too easy to track. Nilfguaard is-” He cuts off, worried gaze wavering over Ciri, which she huffs at and continues in his place.

“Nilgfuaard is hunting us. Me, technically. They’ve been tracking me since Cintra. And they’ve killed everyone who’s tried to help me.” She doesn’t meet either of their eyes. “They’ll hurt anyone to get to me. Geralt is taking us to Yspaden to meet Yennefer, and then to Kaer Morhen together where we’ll be safe.” Ciri is somber and serious for a girl her age, and Jaskier notices she tucks her hands into her lap out of view.

His compassion for her is quickly overtaken by the creeping feeling of something cold sliding down his spine. Poor stupid little Julian who never learns, the voice inside him taunts, He has his child, has the great mage herself, what use is a washed up old bard to a Witcher? All he needs from you is money, he said it himself. That’s what this morning was, the idea twists around inside him and it hurts, physically hurts him to think it but he can’t stop, Nothing genuine, just a way to keep poor stupid little Julian on his leash. He doesn’t- couldn’t actually care for you.

“Right well, ah-” Jaskier’s voice is hard to his own ears, so he clears his throat before trying again. “That shouldn't be any trouble. We should ah-” His mouth runs dry and he’s just trying to get through this as quickly as possible so he can flee and maybe hide from his houseguests for a good few hours in the tub. But no, he is a mature and reasonable adult who is pleasant to his houseguests and who does not cry in front of them. Geralt is watching him closely with an odd look on his face, and Jaskier feels uncomfortably seen. “We should armor you too, you’re no use to anyone at all as a Witcher with no armour and only one sword.”

“Of no use to anyone at all?” Geralt rumbles, one annoyed eyebrow raised in Jaskier’s direction.

“The last time I checked you can still bleed, O Great and Mighty Witcher, and that shirt you’re wearing wouldn’t stop a butter knife.” For a moment they sound like they used to, and it doesn’t shatter his heart at all to hear. He clears his throat, trying to force down the hard lump of familiarity threatening to choke him. “We can get you a mount easy enough. I assume you’ll want one more Fiona-sized?” He winks at Ciri and she grins. “That shouldn’t be an issue, I have friends at the horse market who owe me a favor. Or several, as the case may be. As for clothes, we can go today to the seamstress on-”

“Pardon, Master Julian?” It’s Bea, a few paces away from the table. Jaskier knows she wouldn’t interrupt without cause, and gestures for her to continue. “You may want to dress the child down in things that look more travel-worn as to blend in. Fresh made clothes might fit well, but they’ll draw attention off the beaten path. I still have some of my Piotr’s things, I could fit them to her size easy enough. They’re a bit battered, but well made. She’ll need a new cloak though, I don’t think his will be warm enough for where you’re going.”

“Bea, you are a blessing from the Gods,” Jaskier beams, mentally kicking himself for not thinking of that. Of course they shouldn’t buy new things, fresh clothes are like a beacon to bandits on the road. Stupid, stupid Jaskier. “Auntie, do you have anything we can dye Fiona’s hair with?” He sends Ciri a reassuring smile across the table. “Your hair is beautiful, little one, but your Witcher is right; it draws too many eyes to you.”

Bea considers for a moment before she nods. “I’ve got a walnut dye that should do for her, aye.”

“Grand, you see to that, and I’ll go see a man about a horse. Huh. For the first time, possibly ever, I actually mean that.” He’s out of his chair and halfway across the room before he’s stopped by an oh-so familiar growl.

“I’ll go with Julian.”

“No,” He’s saying before he even turns around,  “You’ll stay here with Fiona and get your hair colored.” Geralt looks like he’s about to argue so Jaskier beats him to it. “Or do you not remember that everyone on the continent is looking for you? If you’re not seen by a Nilfguaardian, you’re seen by a spy, or an informant, or some sad random asshole looking to score the reward purse. So you’ll be staying here, and getting your beauty treatment.”

There’s a stunned little look on his face that makes Jaskier more pleased than it should. He leaves them there, sure Bea will keep them on track and out of trouble, and starts the walk down the street towards the horse markets.

Jaskier wraps the heavy knitted scarf- a present from Bea on his last birthday- around his neck to keep out the first chills of autumn, but that does nothing to keep the ice from his heart. It began as a cool pinprick during breakfast, Geralt is taking us to Yspaden to meet Yennefer, and then to Kaer Morhen together where we’ll be safe and has shifted into a sharp spike of Yennefer, Kaer Morhen, safe that he doesn’t know what to do with.

He remembers the first time he’d asked where Geralt went in winter. He’d been twenty-two, or maybe twenty-four, and as with most stories they’d been drunk. He had wanted to invite Geralt back to Oxenfurt with him, but then Geralt had told him of the crumbling Witcher’s fortress, and the brothers he met there each year. He understood, when Geralt said it was the Witchers sanctuary and not a place for troublesome bards; when they were out in the world, Witchers could never relax, never take a deep breath for fear of killing or being killed. Of course they would need a place without humans, without others, where they could be free for a few months a year. Jaskier was never hurt that Geralt did not share that place with him- if anything, he loved that Geralt had somewhere safe and warm to rest his weary bones each year.

And Jaskier is a grown ass man, he will not begrudge a child being allowed to her father’s home but. But Yennefer. Jaskier knows about the sacking, he knows the last mages to set foot in Kaer Morhen were the ones who brought it crumbling down. If Geralt is bringing Yennefer that must mean they’re together. It will be Yennefer Geralt presents to his brothers, Yennefer who will walk the halls, explore the library, spend months curled up with her lover and their child and-

The honey-colored memory of their early morning embrace is souring in his mind; like black ink spilled over the image and corrupting it until there is nothing left but the acrid feel of Geralt’s arms around him and the burning knowledge that he was going to be left behind again. The promise of the morning means nothing now- Geralt will leave him for Yennefer like he always does, and Jaskier will let him like he always does, and the status quo will remain ever stable.

Jaskier should learn to say no when old not-friends show up at his doorstep, he really should.

He quickens his pace- if he hurries the sale, he might be able to convince Filip to take an early lunch and they can get spectacularly drunk in the hayloft like stupid teenagers instead of doing their actual jobs.

-

here are parts one two three four five. and the full story is on ao3 here 

[ohvalleyofplentyyy]

Merlin’s Blood

A/N: sorry if you’re allergic to walnut bread, you can just pretend i wrote something else!

masterlist

chapter 1

Chapter 2: A Moment with a Miracle

“Motherfucker—“

Mother would be sooooo mad if she heard me speaking like this.

But you had landed pretty hard in your defense, you hadn’t teleported in forever because after you nearly crash-landed into the firing zone for archery practice, mother had put a stop to it.

You landed on the top of a rather large cliff that overlooked a small town below it. “I really really hope this is Brugee or else I’m fucked.” You got up and dusted the soil of your cloak, there was a small rip at the bottom but thankfully that was it.

You started walking down the hill, pausing every few minutes to listen to your surroundings and make sure you weren’t being followed.

I can’t believe I would have the fantastic fate to meet the man who’s supposed to kill me. Also, he’s a Witcher, which makes this even worse! And now he knows what I look like, ah fuck, fuck, fuck… What am I going to do—

“Geralt I still don’t understand why you have to kill her! She’s so sweet and it’s not like you’ll be able to find her since she poofed! Into thin air!”

Shit.

You crouched down immediately upon hearing the voice of Jaskier. About 20 yards away, Geralt was walking with the reins of Roach in his hand along with Jaskier rambling off beside him.

Oh my gods, I guess my fight or flight skills decided to go halfsies and not take me to Brugee, but just get me out of imminent danger…

“—Don’t you see how horrible your reasoning is? She saved me from getting shot with a crossbow at the tavern and then trusted me to help her, I think you need to question who gave you the order to—“ Geralt suddenly perked up and put his hand out to silence the bard. You took a small breath and held it, hoping his enhanced abilities weren’t as amazing as the legends.

In a quiet voice, the Witcher said, “I smell something, lavender…”

Oh sweet peaches and cream, my oils.

Your mother had let you choose an oil for your 11th birthday as a signature statement for a young princess. You used it as a perfume and as you got older you still used it instead of the fancy ones many suitors anonymously gifted you.

You enjoyed that the scent was your own, one you grew up always having. It kept you closer to nature since once the whispers of war started you were locked inside away from harm.

Alright, deep breath Y/N.

You closed your eyes and concentrated, it only took a moment before the wind shifted to be blowing the opposite direction, taking any trace of you with it. You watched from afar as Geralt tilted his face upwards to see if he could find the scent again, but alas nothing was there anymore.

“Come on, let’s go.”

The two men walked farther away from you and once you could no longer see their silhouettes, you let out a long sigh. You looked up to canopy above you and bit your lip to keep it from quivering.

I’m alone.

The thought of that made you more scared than when your killer had been in front of you merely minutes ago.

Tears welled up in your eyes and for the first time in a long while, you started to cry.

Oh, Mama, Papa, please find me, I’m scared…

You fell asleep curled up next to the giant log you had hidden behind, the thoughts and worries swimming in your head as you fell into a blank sleep.

                                                       …

Light shimmering between the leaves of the tall trees woke you. The forest was very peaceful in the bright morning and made you feel a bit better than the night before. The forest was alive with life and wonder in the early light.

You sat on the old log and watched as some small pixies danced along the adjacent stream that no bigger than a log, perfectly pixie sized. They were brightly colored, one purple, another pink, and the last a vivacious yellow. On the other side of the very tiny stream was a deer with two small wings and a long tail, like a lion.

Creatures that resembled monkeys swang through the trees. These creatures were various versions of green, each had two sets of eyes and two tails. Long floppy ears fell down around their faces as well.

It made you smile to know that the friends of the forest you once knew very well had managed to thrive while you were confined to the castle.

Spirits of the forest and other magical creatures knew not to be afraid of you. The magic in your blood from Merlin, one of your ancestors, lifted the veil of protection that others always see when walking through the woods.

Even the most powerful mage would not be privy to such a masterpiece of wonder. The Brotherhood used magic that was, well you could say, tainted. They drew power from other things but you had your own, it was apart of your very being.

Your mother used to tell you stories about how the blood that runs through your veins was some of the most powerful in the universe.

 You always believed it was made up as a child but as you grew older, some of your royal classes turned into magic lessons leading you to question if it was all just fairytales she told you or history.

A few pixies flew down to you and floating next to them was a slice of walnut bread. You took the bread from the air and smiled at them.

 “Have you been working on your magic baking?” They are nodded, you ate the pastry and instantly felt better. The magical bread seemed to lift your spirits and you decided it was time to get moving.

Alright, it’s time to keep going.

Away from the lovely killer I’ve got on my tail…

It took some time, but you finally found the trail leading to town. You took a guess and headed in the opposite direction, hoping the two others would be going to get food instead of hellbent on finding you.

If I can just find a good stream to drink from, maybe I’ll have enough energy to get out of here.

After walking through the dense forest, you stumbled upon a good size river. It was perfect for taking a quick sip but the problem was you’d need to cross it somehow. The current seemed to be fairly strong and you weren’t at the moment. You found a spot of land that was at level with the river and rolled up your sleeves.

The water was like nectar after all this time. It was cool and icy against your palms, you took the canister Branson had been carrying in the bag thank the gods and filled it to the brim.

Who knows when I’ll find a reliable source like this again.

Poor Branson, I know he wasn’t that fantastic of a bodyguard but he did want to keep me safe, and for two weeks he did. I hope he’s in a better place now, with lots of archery fields and sword fighting classes. He was always a fanatic for fighting.

“Alight, how on earth do I cross this now…” You mumbled to yourself. You kicked small pebbles into the river as you walked alongside it. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. There’s got to be some way I can just—cross it.”

Then an idea popped into your head. You turned to the tree next to you as if to speak to it, “If my bloodline is as powerful as people say, then I should be able to just,” you put a foot out, “walk across it.”

It was exhilarating.

You’d never heard of anyone walking on water but here you were, taking a few steps on top of the gushing river that flowed beneath your shoes. You laughed and twirled across the water, dancing with the fish that jumped up every so often as to say ‘hello!’ to you.

I wish I had known about this ability long ago, crossing the moat would have been such a breeze!

But then the water started to slowly lower as if someone was taking a sponge to a spill.

Huh?

You watched as birds flew from the left, away from something. Animals on the side of the creek ran fast as if they were being chased. “What in the world…” But the worlds died o your tongue as you watch a giant tidal wave come towards you.

“Oh my gods.”

Your instinct kicked in and you immediately moved your hands. One went in a full circle while the other drew symbols on the inside of it. Water swirled around you, creating a bubble as the tidal wave roared over you.

It was horrifyingly beautiful. You watched as flowers floated in the current, most likely ripped away from the sides of the land. Some deer, sadly drowned, ran with the steam as well. They must have been crossing farther up in a shallow area, taking a rest in the lovely stream when it washed them away.

 But what was the worst, was the little doll you saw right above your head, and someone’s tiny hand reaching for it.

You closed your eyes immediately, not wanting to see the body that might come into view.

The wave must have cut through a town, but how is this possible?! It’s a river, someone must have been the cause of this…

Maybe the ones trying to kill me.

You opened your eyes at the thought, now shaking a bit as you realized the situation at hand. “This enemy has strong powers, strong enough to easily kill me.”

The river leveled a bit as the wave raced down the path. You dispersed the bubble and looked at all the debris floating downstream. You ran as fast as you could across the water, you were almost at the edge when you heard something.

A voice.

Someone called out from help, farther down where the wave must have just hit. You turned, wondering whether you should keep going or help the poor soul.

“Help, I’m stuck!” You heard them shout.

Fuck okay.

You darted down the river, sliding down the water like you were surfing when it started to drop at an angle.

Maybe it’s a farm boy? A small child? Who would be in these woods right now, maybe a survivor from the town?

You weren’t expecting to find Jaskier clinging to a log in the middle of the water, his tunic caught by something beneath the rushing stream, and the Witcher who said he was to kill you, knocked out on the bank of the river on the side you had been crossing to.

So I guess they didn’t go to town for supplies after all.

Damn.

masterlist

tag yourself here!  (its a google form)

tags: @emmalbg @holyhumorliteraturelight​  @crazzyter @romyr4 @stretchkingblog97  @emilyhuynhhh @holychic @katiejmac​ @ayamenimthiriel​  @peeyewpeeyew @petalduck​

bolded tags didn’t work.

[concerningwolves]

God im so frustrated by the people who rock up to the co-op or tescos or w/e and then just... try to buy the whole shop. and I'm equally frustrated that the shops aren't doing anything to limit this.

mum got in late af last night bc she had to go to several different shops to find some bread and milk. there was some utter walnut at the co-op blocking the queue for almost half an hour bc they kept running back to the shelves to get another armful of random stuff while the cashier was packing one bag and then dumping that stuff on the counter before doing the same again, and I just? what the fuck?? I get it if you're shopping for others but that, running back and forth and grabbing random shit, is senseless and selfish. the poor cashier was young and pregnant and admitted to mum (when mum finally got there) that she was too worried to say anything bc people had been complete arses to her all day.

and, ugh. I don't want to talk much abt corona here bc I'm sure we're all sick of seeing it on our dashes, but my heart really goes out to retail workers/cashiers/shop security workers who have to deal with this shit, particularly if they're working without any security assurances or support from their employers.

[lovethatbird]

ooohhh fun~~ I’ll play

Top 3 Ships:

wangxian-- I mean cannnnnn you not??? I’m ship-happy for so many mdzs pairings....like so many (like all of us, yeah??) but there’s a soft in my heart for this og pairing. I MEAN ALOOF-ANGRY and CHAOTIC-CUTIE?? classic.  hualian-- tgcf fucked me up and I love these mains so much. honestly, just like everyone else, I’m angry about how cute they are...booo I love them a lot. (and I live for bottom hua cheng) elizabeth x darcy. fuck okay. I read pride and prejudice first when I was like 12. fell in love with elizabeth’s spunk and was won over by darcy by the end of the book. don’t get me wrong...fuck regency england...what nonsense. also: pass me the tea, let’s dance-flirt, and let’s queer austen bc let’s.   xicheng-- I just...want jiang cheng to be cared for and loved and supported?? and I read a cute kid fic about xicheng with little jin ling and lan sizhui. and fuck yeah cute.  I KNOW MORE THAN 4. I’M SORRY. I READ FICS FOR LOTS OF PAIRINGS AND CAN’T DECIDE. BEEFLEAF AND 3ZUN GET HONORABLE MENTIONS SINCE I’M BREAKING THE RULES.  Last Song: prom dress by mxmtoon. ahaha I had to look at my youtube history for this one. I love the beat/melody interplay?? so much?? and the drama of this song was 100% my drama-mood a couple days ago! high mentions: TUBS were all I was about last week. the week before mao buyi! (since I can’t follow the rules of this post...ah well!) ahaha now I have to add  平凡的一天 by mao buyi bc I’m listening it while writing this. his voice makes me feel like I’m wrapped in a soft, warm cloud.  

Last Movie:

finally got to watching the 2020 emma. all I will say is fuck johnny flynn can act too?? damn. and ass out of nowhere. beautiful. twice over. delight. in a period drama!! ass out of nowhere. damn.  Current Reading:

2ha! woah what a ride. I love chu wanning to the death and mehhhh mo ran whhyyyy. also finishing guardian (soon? I had to stop bc I was rewatching the show and was getting whiplash from story and show divergence). the black tides of heaven by jy yang...it’s weird and good? features lots of interesting ideas ways of interacting with gender in the universe of the book. currently dying to get my hands on a paper book for further tea nerding purposes. libraries help me!! soon I hope!! :( :( :(  Food I’m Craving: 

I’m always craving good bread?? I had a delightful slice of walnut levin from a local bay area bakery called acme. they make such fucking delightful bread. god. I’m a sucker for good bread.  People I’d Like To Get To Know Better: 

YOU~ lol I’m newer to tumblr (yeah~~ lol I realize I’m late) and don’t know that many folks on here yet. but I LOVE the fan content~~ and just how nice?? folks in the cql/mdzs fandom on here generally seem?? so if you’re reading this and you do it, tag me!! I wanna see your answers!!  I’ll tag a folks in case you’re into it (excuse me for tagging some of you even tho we haven’t actually interacted-- :D!!) @hexenmeisterer @touchmycoat @sansatully @illyrianswingspan @indocilidadreflexiva @pumpkinpaix and tagging @wangxianbunnydoodles where I saw this prompt!