#witchery of sandwiches

[gaybutterflynerd]

Who would win in a fight?

Elsa Joey Graceffa armed with arson

The Lore Witch (aka thunderbolt and lightning very very frightening)

An OG Modded Player (Cupquake) armed with Botania and bootleg Witchery

A sassy water witch with great editing skills (made enemies with half the server on the first day)

Cleo armed with a complicated but very overpowered magic mod (and the power to break the economy)

Scott on a villain arc (made more progress in two episodes than every other member combined)

A young TommyInnit-esque illusionist

A literal sandwich

[jiubilant]

If it is Known that Ravi is never without the Staff of Magnus and also Known that he often visits Laf and also also Known that baby mammoths are fond of brandishing sticks . . . how many times has a baby run away with a powerful artifact

“And that is how,” says the Archmage of Winterhold, gesturing grandly to the Staff of Magnus, “after two hundred years, I found a walking-stick of perfect height. Snipp, snapp, snute, så er eventyret ute.”

“Most people,” says the mammoth-herder, “cut their own to size, Hrafi.”

“Now you tell me.”

Midday, and the rolling Hviting plains gleam golden-green. The mammoth-herder lounges in the tickly grass. Most of her beasts are browsing well downslope, rooting like great gardeners through goosefoot and sedge. They chew with calm deliberation. Only the two calves gambol nearby, trumpeting and treading on each other’s trunks—and turning, every so often, to make sure that their minder is paying attention.

“It is a good walking-stick,” she says, keeping a fond eye on the calves. The sun warms her shoulders. A sleepy breeze ripples through the grasses of the steppe. “And a good story. Wundorlic.”

“Yes, well.” With an embarrassed smile, her friend returns to his lunch. He’d bartered the bread from a passing drover; the mammoth-herder had supplied the cheese, and he’d mortared it all together with fascinating disregard for the proper way to eat anything. “Yarn for yarn. You’ve answered all my questions.”

“No small boast.” The mammoth-herder glances down at the Staff, propped like a broom against the Archmage’s bedroll and bag. It’s a twig like any other, she thinks. Only the blue flame flickering at its tip betrays it as a wizard’s companion. “You found it for the clevermen. Why did you keep it?”

“Had to,” says the Archmage, his voice somewhat muffled by sandwich. (That’s what he’d called it, though the mammoth-herder had witnessed no witchery in its production.) “It’s choosy. Burned my Master Wizard’s hand.”

The mammoth-herder raises her eyebrows. The calves trundle over, cross at being ignored; she coaxes one to her side, deft as a shepherd with a lamb, and scratches it under the chin.

“How does it—ouch,” she says, and makes a face. A wandering trunk had tweaked her beard. “How does it choose?”

“S’a matter of, ah, of might,” says the Archmage with a vague wave of the sandwich. “And—and stature, supposedly, and so forth. Far as I’ve read, anyway—oof—”

He goes down with a helpless laugh. The calf who had butted him tries to climb into his lap, finds it too small, and snuffles with indignation through his hair.

“Gently, lytling,” the mammoth-herder chides it, catching the curious trunk. The calf, out of the corner of its eye, gives her a martyred look.

Then it wriggles free and rummages through the Archmage’s packs. The Staff tips over. A kicked cookpot bounces down the slope. The Archmage, lying limbs akimbo in the grass, stifles an undignified snort as a few notes from his field journal flutter by.

“The mammoth,” he intones with mock solemnity, as if dictating to a scribe, “is a known vandal, and smokes like a chimney—”

“Might, you said,” says the mammoth-herder with a great grin, and plucks the man’s pipe from the calf’s trunk.

The Archmage seems disinclined to sit up. He pillows his head under one arm, smiling, and shuts his eyes. “Mm.”

“Stature.”

“S’what I said.”

“Why, then,” asks the mammoth-herder, not unkindly, “did it choose you?”

The Archmage blinks up at her. He’s wearing his squashed lunch. His hair sticks up in peaks where the calf had mussed it.

“I’ve no notion,” he says.

The calf, with a gleeful toss of its head, seizes the Staff and waves it. The Staff sends forth a delighted shower of sparks.

[herbarimoon]

"Poisoned sandwich tea-party starts now~"

Based on Ga1ahad a Scientific Witchery by Mili

[kiki-is-writing]

gonna introduce u guys to the characters in my new unnamed wip so i can start shitposting about them. they're all coworkers at a sandwich shop on a beach-town-island type place

FAITH -- mc, surfer ex-catholic with extreme mommy issues who self-medicates with weed and the beach. she tries to be a nonjudgemental person but people just suck too much. favorite activity is hustling pool

KEYES -- faith's adoptive brother who should be wearing crocs, dropped out of college after a week so he could surf instead of going to class. favorite activity is insisting that a jimmy buffet x ozzy ozbourne collab would create world peace.

BAY -- pickup truck stoner lesbian with an affinity for crystals, drugs, and witchery. favorite activity is sleeping with people and trying to read their tarot cards afterwards

SOLSTICE aka SUNNY -- 18 year old part-time worker who was put on this earth to humble people and convince austin that the shop is haunted. favorite activity is being mean to people she went to high school with.

COHEN -- sandwich shop owner, ex-con and classic rock superfan who named all the sandwiches on the menu after his employees and john bonham. favorite activity is being the reason his restaurant smells like weed.

AUSTIN -- cohen's nephew who's on summer break, frat boy, thinks puka shell necklaces are cool, believes in ghosts. favorite activity is being the center of attention even though he has no discernible talents

silly excerpt from the beginning

taglist (dm to be +/-) (i only have 1 taglist)

@dallonwrites @ghostsofmemories @rataltouille @jennawritesstories @avasghost

@cilantrospirit

@coffeeandcalligraphy @phiwrites @lottieiswriting @orevius

wip tag is #[untitled wip]

[numberonehatershrimp]

“To dream the impossible dream, that is my quest.”

The magical potion of reanimation

Bittersweet cranberry flavoured euphoria

Rise from bed my darling

So I can see you again

So I can kill you again

My brains accelerate

And I'll

Reassemble you again

The witches can't be loved

So bravely I fought

They fell and failed

My Lady doesn't wilt

Lata lulila lulula lilula ta

Lata lulila lulula lulalila

Lata lulila lulula lilula ta

Lata lulila lulula lulalila

Poisoned sandwich tea party starts now

Eat up

If you're lucky you won't rot

Eat up

It's your turn

Eat till you drop

Eat up

Maybe this time you'll be caught

Eat up

Fill your stomach till it pops

Eat up

Eat it all just eat it all

Cause there's no poison after all

I've cleared mountains and dungeons

Iron maiden

My Lady has spoken

"Ga1ahad, you will shall never collapse"

So I charged up my lasers

Talila lulila

That makes your bones stronger than steel

Tulila talila

That backs up your thoughts to the cloud

Truth or false

It's the logic that dictates it all

Rising edge ticks the clock

Stimulates you flip-flop

Generate

Oscillate

Let your blood fill the gates

Multiplex

Process registration

Wipe off your pus

Grind down your vitamins

The end justifies the means

Open the book

Turn to page 617 — Scientific Witchery

Someday

I'll conquer the land have you slayed

Blast away

Blast away

Don't be like Lancel0t

You are the new upgrade

I appriciate your thoughts

But you've given me too much to tolerate

I've done so much for you

But you treat me this way

No forgiveness for this endless love

My goddess never looked at me

Finally our wounds closed

Our wounds closed

Turned into

Purple scabs

Kiss me tenderly gently violently

There's no undo and there's no repeat

Can't go back to how we used to be

There's no restart but only proceed

Take up from where we've left off and see

EXPLAIN WHAT THE SONGS MEAN, IDIOTS!!!!!!!!!

[thescribeoflostmemories]

Decretum x Somnium = Insanity

Knight! Capitano x Witch! Yan(?)Reader

Tags: Angst?, blood, friends to enemies to ???, malpractice, cycle, Reader kinda lost her marbles. Help, I lost track of time and I should be doing other fics right about now instead of this. Comfort/hurt or hurt/comfort, unrequited love? Disturbing implications if you squint.

Thank @capitanossanctuary for this infected brain rot last night. And @mellowwillowy, I did it y'all...

“To find one's self, one must destroy the image built upon you by others. Only then will you have the answer in your grasp.” - Scribe

This time, it will- no, it MUST work! The potion’s effects are in motion, the ruffles from the bed sounded. Any previous doubt has been pushed aside by another notion.

“Morning, I have breakfast ready.” A chance to see him again, your beloved Knight.

Risen from the bed, there presented to you, your latest result of your endeavors. Just as handsome as you last saw him. Not minding the loss of his cheek muscle that you could see his teeth and inside of his mouth.

Sat upon the pure white chair, you had prepared all the necessities for the little welcome tea party for the Knight in shining armor. Soon, the clanks of metal made their way to you upon the seat across from you. Reassembling him would require extensive work.

“Eat up, if you’re lucky enough you won’t rot.” You jest, even though it is to see if he still has any recollection. Gesturing for him to reach in for the treats and sweets prepared for him, sandwiches included. Even without his blade, the mere strength in his flesh still remains.

He seems to be taken aback, the man before you is a witch hunter. Your partner under the reign of the Queen that ordered the extinction of a whole race. How ironic that you’ve turned to such craft when life snuffed out of his body, leaving you all alone. You still remembered how he had revered his ‘Lady’ as this perfect being, a true witch in disguise!

“There is no poison.” He spoke in a hoarse yet still deeply rich voice, you tried your best to preserve his body for so long, so lovingly. The thought alone made you shudder of how many adventures would take place once he had adjusted to the current body just like before.

“There isn’t.” You confirmed, leaning back to your chair. The rather large witch’s hat jingles with the bell at the end of it. Your dark colored robes have long since been tainted by the dark spell that binds you to its will.

Even without direct words, the gestures, intense gaze at your ‘ruined’ state. Eyes once shown light and bubbly attitude, now reduced to a slave of your own twisted desires.

“I could say the same to you, dear friend.” You picked up your tea cup and took a sip.

“My partner wouldn’t betray me like this, who are you witch that dared to replicate my friend’s face?!” He snarled, fist made contact with the table making an audible dull sound,

Dainty hands slammed the cup onto the table rather forcibly, a smile only cracked, “Even if you inverted this entire world with your bare hands, this is reality!” That is the truth, and nothing but the truth. Going against what you two were fighting for, those don’t matter to you anymore, none of it.

Standing up, flap the tatters of your robes, “Wipe off your pus darling and grind down your vitamins.” scarred hands rubbed against the deteriorating skin of your beloved. The food may not be a staple necessity to him anymore in this form. But you had crushed all herbs and elements to sustain him further, knowing he treasures strength above all.

“Page six-seventeen.” Tossing a worn tome that reveals the gruesome scheme of the various experiments to reanimate him. Such witchery! It cannot be allowed, you aren’t allowed anymore!

Fuming with rage, Capitano had raised his hand to smack your hand away from him. “Don’t act so irrationally, Ga1ahad. Don’t be like your father, Lancel0t." You teased, though that attack did hurt. Leaving a bruise on your frail and pallid skin that had longed to see the light of day.

“Hm, this is an improvement, dear. Let your blood oscillate, results, generate more!” You had pretended this is part of your devious plan to make him feel good about himself for figuring you out.

To be frank in this battle of sorcery and steel. Both of you are such morons, Don Quixote. Giving so much of yourself to him yet it does not reciprocate. Blinded by ideals to how much have been destroyed and only the essence of yourselves are laid bare. No code of morals, nor the law would approve any of their relationship. Your profound adoration and love exceeds what he can take and couldn’t give back.

One wouldn’t admit their mistake to the other, as this vicious cycle of torment spirals out of control. All for the sole person to just look at the other. ‘My God/dess never looked at me’ The pure idolization is sickening, smothering even.

Until such a point, seeking forgiveness is merely an option they had not explored. Battered, bruised and bleeding. Il Capitano stopped and looked at your pitiful state.

“Think about it, __. If you are a witch, it would cost you everything. Such sin cannot be forgiven! What is left for you after everything is said and done?! After a millennia worth of damnation, what else is precious to you that wouldn’t leave?”

“You … I’d… Still have you, my beloved Captain.” You choked out, wholeheartedly. Truly did love him, more than the one he so dearly admired.

[doomed-prophetess]

The song Ga1had and Scientific Witchery but make it Athyette (maybe with Athan, maybe with Athy)

hi!!!! thanks for sending me these 💜💜💜

ahh poison and resurrection. two of my favourite themes. 🎶✨

The magical potion of reanimation Bittersweet cranberry flavoured euphoria Rise from bed my darling

So I can see you again So I can kill you again

Poisoned sandwich tea party starts now

Eat up If you're lucky you won't rot

Eat up It's your turn Eat till you drop

Eat up Maybe this time you'll be caught

this is so them <33 when I mean them I mean the versions of them that only exist in my mind haha. So I have a story in my mind based on the song which looks like this: Jennette falls in love with Athy and becomes self aware that they are characters trapped in a story. But Jennette can't do anything about it and has to play the part of the villainess. Knowing the narrator is forcing her hand and their fates are predetermined, she prepares the cakes for the tea party and poisons one of them without looking in which cake she put the poison (like russian roulette). Jennette ends up eating the poisoned cake and for a moment she thinks that maybe Athy will survive if she is the one dying or that they will at least die together, but no luck she falls into coma and Athy is accused of poisoning her and executed. Jennette has killed Athy just as the story has intented but she is still "happy" since she hopes this would mean that the story will go back to the beginning and Athy will rise again to life. Her black magic works its way to restart the story but she has made a mistake when resurrecting Athy. This time Athy is the one who remembers everything and she has her heart set on revenge.

No forgiveness for this endless love My goddess never looked at me

Finally our wounds closed Our wounds closed Turned into Purple scabs Kiss me tenderly gently violently

There's no undo and there's no repeat Can't go back to how we used to be There's no restart but only proceed

[kouros-herc]

For the second day of Christmas your true love gave to you, A re-imagining of disney songs for your characters @kenneth-carson

Character Study/Discussion below

Benjamin Drakken - Go The Distance

Like a lot of these, at first glance it seems mad BUT hear me out. One of the things that makes Drakken compelling as a character and a baddie is his persistence and drive and intensity. All qualities we might praise him for if his goal wasn't ... you know, global domination. I think this song can be re-imagined to that sort of intense passion and dedication to his goal.

Ken Carson (ft. Hercules) - Love Is An Open Door

While I don't mean this as a sort of romantic thing, Ken is a character who is discovering his life outside his family and the metaphorical enclosure of that! Herc is likewise looking for people in his life he can let in and share it with and embrace and this song as so much of that naive but endearing warmth about it. Also "we finish each others-" "Sandwiches!" "Thats what I was going to say!" is canonical Kerc dumbassery.

Gabriella Marino (ft. Eric (SOB)) - Love Will Find A Way

First off I am so sorry. But tragic lovers doomed by their opposition in the narratives of their lives who despite that are able to get to know each other as people and ... mean a lot to each other ... I'm not wrong.

Qin Su - What Else Can I Do?

Su is a badass! A witch finding her feet and grappling with what she wants her specialty to be and how to embrace her gifts towards the area of plants and wood witchery? I think this song captures some of that excitement and energy and intrigue. What else can Su do? I can't wait to see.

David Hatter - When Will My Life Begin?

It's on account of Keanue's long luscious locks. Joking! But it's actually because I see Hatter as a man who accidentally hit pause on his life a long time ago - he had to, he had his little siblings to look after and his personal dreams had to take a back seat. So he's been going through life being brilliant at what he does but is he really living. Hopefully Marlin can help him explore that a bit more!

Cruz Ramirez - I'll Make A Man Magic Grand Prix Champion Out Of You

Who wouldn't want to see a Cruz training montage of her being awesome and whipping her new recruits into shape! Cruz is a teacher and a leader and dedicates herself to helping people bring the very best out of themselves, and she deserves a main character moment musical number to celebrate that.

James Jones Sr (ft. James Jones Jr) - Mine, Mine, Mine

Sorry to assign Hook a rampant capitalist villain song but I like the way this song also has that element of disdain for other people in it that we've seen with Hook's hatred of Magicks. We also see some of the chip on the shoulder of the rejection from high society with the stuff about how he'll be able to gain favour with everyone at court by his exploits. I also just think that the John Smith half of the song sort of fits into how young James is this idealistic adventurer who things all of this will be some grand adventure! Which is maybe not exactly the reality of life as a pirate and magick hunter.

Toby Determined - Almost There

I know how much you've spoken about Toby having this desire to be great and brilliant and how that constantly motivates him to push boundaries and maybe push through some of them sometimes. So I thought that sentiment of reaching out for something that is just out of reach but you can almost feel would fit him in an interesting way.

[meandfood]

Did you know…tomato knives are also called witches. Did you know there were tomato knives?

Hello again. I’m currently hungry. I Can feel hunger at this current moment of 7:41 am. But I cannot eat because I need to take my thyroid medication and wait an hour. But I can’t take my thyroid medication because I’m waiting for my anxiety medication to have its proper time. That definitely throws off the day for me eating wise. A problem that needs a solution. I’ll think on it

Okay let’s make IRISH SODA BREAD!

I’m waiting for the oven to heat for my Irish soda bread. Kitchen witchery engage. Although. I feel I do a lot wrong. I don’t know what the dough is supposed to look like. It’s not smooth like the book said. It was very sticky.

I will say though…I did aerate my flour. Which I read in the book that’s too heavy to hold near-bouts.

Now we wait. While I get woo woo skip ahead if you want.

This bread will connect me to my ancestors who made bread on the daily probably. It will ground me and fill my metaphorical cup. If it goes well I will need to just surrender more. If not… there’s a lesson I’m sure.

Okay! I see you, Irish soda bread.

Lessons learned… sift. Don’t use a broken ass spatula and mix a little more.

I’m having three pieces. One half plain half butter. One cream cheese and raspberry jam. One half raspberry jam half cream cheese and raspberry jam.

It’s dense. Is it supposed to be dense. I think. Yeah. It’s not a yeast bread. So less dense than cake more so than yeast bread. The crust ain’t playing though. Crispy crunchy. I also love that it took like an hour and was adapted from an Irish lady’s 1800s cookbook.

I see it with soups and sandwiches. What else do you use bread for. Eating with jam and butter. Cause that raspberry jam just set it off. I’m typing this as I’m taking bites. It’s making me think about the food. How it tastes. That it has a taste and texture. I swallow what food I do eat whole like a snake. Probably doesn’t help with my digestive issues. Hey let’s eat delicious homemade bread and talk about digestive issues.

Anyways. I’m not sure this bake would win me star baker but it’s the second type of bread I’ve ever made.

And the most important thing is I am eating.

[littlechemistry]

Meet Selena.

[fanficforumdiscordserver]

Meet the Social Media Team

☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀

Name: Intro

Pronouns: they/them

Age: 23 

Likes: Iced caramel macchiatos, found family, making discord servers, and sour candy

Dislikes: hot dogs, bugs

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Writing since: 6th grade

Fun facts:

Yellow is the superior color

AO3: My_Inner_Introvert

POV: betas more than writes :sweat_smile:

☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀

Name: Kiwi/Devin/Pyro/Aspen/K

Pronouns: they/them, fae/faer, nix/nix, shi/shier, he/him, va/vos (changes between these)

Age: –

Likes: cats, coffee, arson, CHAOS, kpop, mental health fics, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, witchery, archery, minecraft, art

Dislikes: trumpets, mayonnaise, politicians, orange (both the color and fruit), American football, loud noises, dogs, summer

Zodiac Sign: Capricorn

Writing since: 6th grade/11-12 years old

Fun Facts: 

Plays bass clarinet, does band

Asexual, omniromantic, polyamorous, nonbinary

Shares a single braincell with Sandwich

Resident chaos gremlin

Pov: crying because you’re main fic has been going on for 2 years and only has 9 chapters and isn’t even set during canon yet

AO3: KBeingGay

☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀

Name: Sandwich

Pronouns: she/they

Age: minor 

Likes: cats, iced coffee, chocolate, hurt/comfort, fluff, and fried chicken 

Dislikes: bad textures in food (especially aubergines (eggplant for u Americans) and raw tomatoes), super hot weather

Zodiac Sign: libra 

Writing Since: no,, I do not write 

Fun Facts: 

I play bass guitar!!

I also draw

I’m panromantic :-D 

POV: u say u read fanfic and watch anime but haven’t for over a month and have been riding the stardew valley dopamine high for a week

AO3: breadhamcheesebread

[intheseautumnhands]

5, 2 and 9 for the weird asks lol

5. What movie can you watch over and over without ever getting tired of? I say this every time favorite movies/comfort watches come up but Practical Magic. It's so pretty and family love and witchery and I love it so much I want to live in that house. XD That said, I do tend to watch movies over and over a lot, so there are others as well! Off the top of my head: Clue, Jeffrey, A Home at the End of the World, Mamma Mia, Moulin Rouge, A Chorus Line, Exam, The Devil's Carnival, My Best Friend's Wedding, 10 Things I Hate About You, uhhh.... am I probably forgetting stuff? Yes, yes I am. If I like a thing I am inclined to rewatching.

2. What weird food combinations do you really enjoy? The one that people always seem confused by is scrambled eggs and grape jelly. I don't know what to tell you, I read The Outsiders a lot at a formative age, and I really don't like eggs much, so the jelly makes them tolerable. I'm not sure what else is all that weird, though. I get more shit for eating food that lacks in cominations -- like, I will only put cold cuts on my sandwiches, and only one kind, I hate putting condiments or cheese on them except for a few very rare exceptions. XD

9. What’s your cure for hiccups? Holding my breath, but it only works like half the time. The rest of the time I just try to get distracted. (Which is hard cause it hurts like a bitch.)

[jacks-wylan]

considering that this site keeps hiding this fic from the tags (i am very sad about this) I decided to do what most of you do in this circumstances and posting here an extract, and then put the link to ao3 in the reblogs. just hoping that it doesn’t STILL get hidden.

tw: suicidal thoughts, depression, major character death but he’s not really dead because I want happy endings where everyone lives, mentioned abuse. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Geralt snorts, looking at the severed head at his feet. Every time is worse than the last, but bandits just don't understand that he's going to fight regardless his all being telling him that it's wrong, he's not going to get punched and robbed just because of what townsfolk, then, say about him.

He ignores the blood on his hands, and on his armor. Blood that isn't of monsters, but just people too angry, too mad, too greedy.

He doesn't ignore the bags, though. So, he sheathes his sword, crouches near the dead bodies, and rummages in their satchels, hoping to find something to eat – and if he's lucky enough, they have wine and booze. He's going to have a wonderful night in the woods, in Roach's company and with a... a ham sandwich, he finds, and a liquor he doesn't recognize, but it seems good. The smell is good, and that's enough.

“Are you... are you stealing from dead people?”

Geralt freezes, and for a second he doesn't know what to do. He didn't hear anyone approaching, and he didn't feel anyone around him until he heard that voice.

He puts an hand on the hilt of his sword, and turns around. Just to freeze again.

“I am in no position to criticize your way of living, but, uuh, maybe it's kind of unethical?” the figure in front of him starts to move his hands in a swiftly way, “Really, I wouldn't feel very respected.”

“They were trying to rob and kill me.” Geralt says, just because he's trying to gain more time to understand what the fuck is in front of him.

“Well.” the figure sniffs, “I guess that's... that's even. They were trying to rob and kill you, and in response you did kill and rob them. Makes sense.”

Geralt says, “You are a ghost.”

The ghost pouts. It literally pouts: its mouth's edges point towards the ground, and its lower lip gets bitten by its teeth, “I am very aware, dear stranger. It's really sad, I must say, because I can't really see my face in any kind of reflective surface, but I feel very young. Isn't it unfair? I am too young to be dead! But wait, you can see me? People couldn't. Not that I was in towns for long, really, but they never told anything about a strange, translucent, and I guess attractive ghost around them. Anyway, you can see me! Can you tell me if I am young or I am just a very healthy – as healthy as a dead man could be, I suppose – old man?”

The ghost in front of him is a young lad, indeed. His skin is translucent, in fact, so Geralt can't really say of what his hair colour was when he was alive, same with his eyes. “You're young. No more than twenty, maybe less.”

“See?” the ghost seems outraged, “That's an injustice.”

“People die all the time, you are not the only one.” says Geralt, and abandons the grip he has on his sword. “They killed you?” adds then, pointing the dead bodies at his feet.

“I have no idea. I don't even know who I am. Hell, I don't even know how's my face! How can I know who killed me?”

“Hm.”

“I found myself in the nearest town. I didn't travel a lot. I don't really know what should I do. Wasn't I supposed to, I don't know, transcend or something? They didn't become ghosts.” the ghost says, indicating the dead bandits with a dry gesture. “Why am I stuck here?”

“Don't know.” Geralt says. He grabs the things he found in the bandits satchels, and goes towards Roach. He puts everything inside her saddlebag, then jumps on top of her. “But I'm a Witcher. I can find out what happened to you. Probably your body lays somewhere in town. Hopefully, someone will pay me for finding you.”

“I'm not sure about that.” the ghost's voice takes on a bitter sound. “I haven't heard anything about me. I guess that, that maybe no one misses me.”

“Hm.” Geralt doesn't say anything, nudging Roach to start trotting towards civilization. If he remembers correctly, the closest town is Posada, and it's a two day ride. “You're not a wraith yet. Probably you died not too long ago. Your family may not know of your demise yet.”

“Maybe.”

Geralt feels strange. It's uncommon to find a conscious ghost, an innocuous ghost – after all, they don't take too long to become wraiths. If the boy didn't die a painful death, he didn't become a ghost in the first place, so that's out of questions.

Somehow, something twists in his chest in knowing that, for sure, the boy died a horrid death. Life is never fair, after all. The best thing Geralt can do for him, is to give him peace.

“Anyway! I don't know your name, Witcher. I don't know mine either, really, but from the moment I found myself a ghost I called myself Jaskier. I don't know if I was called like this before my death or if I just, you know, invented it on the spot, but you can call me that.”

Jaskier is definitely a made up name. But maybe it was his pet name, it can be useful.

“You talk a lot.”

Behind him, the ghost – Jaskier – huffs, “Do you have any idea how does it feel to talk and no one ever listen to you? Well, no one can see me, nor hear me. It really hurts my feelings. But here you are, Witcher, with your powerful... very fantastic witchery powers, you can do all this things! And my feelings hurt no more, with finally someone hearing my laments.”

“They are whines, not laments.”

“That's the same.” the boy says, nonchalant. Geralt can't hear his steps, obviously, but with the corner of his eye he sees his light silhouette getting near him and Roach. Roach flicks her ears, but she doesn't get scared of the presence. Good girl. “So, your name? I need to call you, you know. And I refuse to call you just Witcher!”

“Geralt of Rivia.”

“Thank you, Geralt of Rivia.” The wood around them gets thicker, and it covers most of the rays of midday sun. Apart from the scuffle with the bandits, and apart from the fact that he's now, well, haunted, the day seems to be uneventful. Just the wood on the Path in front of him – of them – and the clear sky above them. “Where are we going?”

It's going to be uneventful, but fuck. The ghost can't stay silent for shit.

“Posada.”

“Why Posada?”

“It's the nearest town.”

“Is it? Gods, I don't know if it was actually Posada I found myself in. Well, maybe? I guess I will find out the moment I will recognize the streets.”

“You said the nearest. Posada is the nearest.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What you said.” Jaskier clears his voice. Does ghosts need to clear their voice? Or to cover their embarrassment? Do they even feel embarrassment? “I am deeply sorry if I can't be more of help. I really don't remember anything. Nothing, just black void in my head.”

Geralt sighs, “I have no doubt.”

“Wait.” Jaskier huffs in outrage, running until he can be in front of Roach. He stops there in the middle of the Path, and Roach flicks her ears again. Geralt calms her with a caress on her neck. “What are you implying? That I'm an idiot? I am dead, I have any reason to be distracted and confused. If you've ever been dead, you'd understand.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow.

“No, wait, I said it wrong.”

Geralt nudges Roach again in a calm but steady ride, “Less talking, more walking.”

“But I've been walking for days, Geralt, and my feet are sore!”

“You're dead. You can't have sore feet.”

Jaskier pouts again, and even if he could easily stay in the middle of the road – not that Roach would have killed him by walking on him, after all – he nonetheless leaves the Path free for the horse, and Geralt then finds him walking beside him again. Jaskier starts talking about the things he's done from the moment he found himself dead since the moment he found Geralt, and really he hasn't done literally anything, but the ghost can't seem to shut up about the people ignoring him, about his tired limbs and the fact that he still thinks that stealing food from dead bodies is a bit strange.

Jaskier emphasizes that with more fervor when they stop in a clearing for the night, and after Geralt has lighted a fire and taken care of Roach, he sits in his sprawled bedroll and takes out from Roach's saddlebag one of the sandwiches he found in the bandits' satchels.

But at that point, Jaskier – finally, Geralt would say – shuts up.

Feeling observed, Geralt looks at him with his mouth full and with a raised eyebrow.

Jaskier shakes his head, and with a huff, he sits next to him. “No, nothing.” he says, while fidgeting with a hem of his shirtsleeve. “Okay, well, if you really want to know,” he adds then, even though Geralt has ignored him, “I am, uh. I am hungry.”

Geralt blinks at him. “Hm. Let me see if I have a ghost sandwich in my bag. Hm, no. I haven't. I apologize.”

“You are really, reeaaally rude. And awful. A very bad person, that has no sensitivity towards the dead! Oh, I should have known that the moment you stole from a dead man!”

“They were three, but go on.”

“See? Awful!”

“You are aware that you can't feel hunger.”

“And yet!”

Geralt looks at him with half lidded eyes, unbothered by his whining. This ghost is strange and innocuous, but leaves a kind of feeling in his gut that Geralt doesn't like. It's not danger, more nervousness he daresay – for what, he doesn't know. Probably because he's still too... lively. Ghosts shouldn't have so much energy, so heartfelt emotions.

Really, all ghosts Geralt has seen all his long life – they are actually a lot, wraiths the lot of them, and they all rest in peace now thanks to his sword – were... very different from Jaskier, in many way beside the appearance.

Geralt finishes his dinner, feed the fire so it won't die during the night, and lays on his bedroll. “Can you stay silent now? I want to sleep.”

Jaskier tightens his lips, upset. “I can shut up if needed. If my chatters bother you so much you can just say so!”

“They bother me. Now I have to sleep. Shut up.”

Jaskier doesn't say anything anymore.

----------------------------------------------------------

link to ao3 in the reblogs!

[hagleyvault]

We’re saying goodbye to National Sandwich Month today. August was claimed for the sandwich as early as 1952, when the milling industry, commercial bakers, and other food industry interests joined forces with the National Restaurant Association, who spearheaded the campaign to announce to the country that “August is Sandwich Time”.

The pages seen here are from the World’s Fair edition of The Wonder Book of Good Meals, a circa 1932 pamphlet of Wonder Bread based recipes released by the Continental Baking Corporation as a tie in to its presence at the 1933-1934 Century of Progress International Exposition in Chicago, Illinois.

In addition to teaching readers about the “Witchery of Sandwiches” and providing some guidance for those looking to feed sandwiches to men, its pages offered irresistible recipes for Cheese Dreams, Pilgrim Pies, De Luxe Bridge Loaf, and Hot Bread (which is exactly what it sounds like).

The Wonder Book of Good Meals is Pam 2010.258 in Hagley Library’s Published Collections. To view the pamphlet in its entirety online, click here to visit its page in our Digital Archive.

[stagandmoonak]

Drying your Wild Harvest

Drying herbs was the first herbal skill I learned and the most practical craft I’ve mastered. Dried herbs are so useful for both medicinal and magickal purposes, even more versatile than fresh in my opinion. Everything from smoke cleansing, tea, salves, oil infusions, poultices, elemental magick, folk remedies, kitchen witchery, and so much more make use of this witchy technique.

You might be asking yourself, why should I dry my own? My main reasons for harvesting and tending my own is to insure a few critical cornerstones of my own practice.  First, I can make sure that the plants I’m using are fresh and disease free, and preserve them to the standard that I find ideal, avoiding mold and contamination. Large drying facilities often have mixed products and it also makes sure that I can have pure herbals for my craft unmixed with other plants or potential allergens like tree nuts and legumes. Second, I follow a path of most ethical practice, genuinely seeking to honor the plant spirit I’m tapping into, as well as ensuring that I do not over harvest to preserve crops of the future. This falls into what I spoke about last week about the importance of high-principled gathering. Lastly, because most store bought dried herbals are gathered without the intent for magic. When gathering and binding your own plants you can instill purpose in the green practice, confer with your Green Allies, and infuse the plants with your innate power. 

A couple tips to get started:

For the strongest flavor harvest before flowering

Leaves contain the highest concentration of oils

Early morning is the best time to harvest

Rinse you herbs and gently pat dry before binding

For the strongest flavor harvest before flowering

Leaves contain the highest concentration of oils

Early morning is the best time to harvest 

Rinse you herbs and gently pat dry before binding

Also I like to use colored floss, thin enough to work with, but vibrant for color magick and intentional casting. If I’m drying for tea and cooking I always make sure to use dye-free floss and usually clean, rinse, and dry before use to avoid consuming toxins. 

If you are harvesting flowers they respond best to the first method of drying we will cover, traditional tying and hanging. Air-drying is the oldest form of herbal preservation and is very simple to start practicing even with store bought cut plants. Start with 5-10 sprigs of the herb and bind them with a rubber band or string, the fewer stems you use the faster they will dry. When using more herbs for a smoke cleansing bundle or to preserve a large harvest, bind tightly down the length of the stems to maintain the integrity of the leaves as far as you can manage. From here you can do one of a few things; hang the bundles in a warm well ventilated room out of direct sunlight, or hang them inside a brown paper bag with punctured holes. A bag can help keep in oils dispersing if you have a drafty or sunny drying space. In just a few days to a week your herbs will be crunchy and dry depending on how thick your herbal bundle is.

The second method to use is in an oven or dehydrator. You’ll want to set your machine to 180 degrees F or less and be available to monitor the herbs for 2-4 hours. Place the herbs out flat on a cookie sheet or drying rack no thicker than one inch thick. This is much less useful for large bunches and should be used for loose herbs as the tightly bound bigger bundles can keep pockets of moisture deep within. You will know they are done when the leaves are crisp and can easily crumble. For both this and the more traditional style you’ll want to put your herbs in a storage container after they have dried to keep contamination out of your product and keep the strength of flavor and potency. 

The last approach I take is through the freezer. I find this more effective for woodier herbals like lovage, basil, mints, rosemary, and plantain. For this remove all the leaves and place in a freezer bag with all the air removed, or flat sandwiched in a paper towel and then rolled up and secured with a rubber band or string. You can also make a paste of the plant with a little water in a food processor, and either add to ice cube trays to freeze and then bag or put directly into a plastic bag and let freeze in a thin sheet to break pieces off as needed.

Green Blessings!                                              -Sea

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

I listened to this audio thing and it gave me an idea. The audio was this character gets cloned or split in two or whatever, I dunno I wasn’t paying attention.

But I thought, what if Geralt got hit with a witch spell (or something similar) and when he comes trudging back to the inn there’s two of him that are both still under the affects of one of his Witchery potions.

Jaskier was singing but once he sees the two Geralt’s staring him down from across the room he misplays a chord, a metallic twang ringing through the room as he opens and closes his mouth, his throat suddenly very dry. He finally manages to stutter out a very half assed apology and quickly leaves the stage, finally allowing the other bard that had been bugging him most the night a chance to play.

When he makes it to the Witcher he can only get out the man’s name before he’s being thrown over one Witcher’s shoulder and the three of them are making their way upstairs. Jaskier is still trying to make sense of things, spluttering random questions and obvious statements as he’s taken into their room and thrown onto the bed rather roughly.

He notices that both Witcher’s seem to be communicating telepathically with each other while shedding their armour in an almost creepy synchronicity. It was like watching Geralt undress in front of the mirror.

Finally Jaskier is able to get out the first question that he should’ve asked, his voice hoarse and his mind races through the scenarios of what could be happening right now, “What the fuck happened?”

One Geralt grunts while the other looks at him and grumbles out, “Witch.” Before they both shed their last piece of armour, turning toward Jaskier with very predatory gazes.

The bard can’t say he’s completely against the idea of a Geralt sandwich right now since this could be every fantasy he’s ever dreamt of put into one night. But he is slightly scared for his libido considering he struggles to keep up with one poitioned up Witcher on a regular night, let alone two.

But as they say, there’s a first time for everything.