#c; anise.

[miasmaburnt]

azotas asked: ❝ don’t do it. ❞ for Arietta or Anise?

[ "don't" starters - still accepting ]

"Huh?" Was all Anise could really say, lowering her hand behind her back quickly. What was with this guy, talking to a stranger so sharply? Maybe he was having a bad day?

"You had some dead leaves on your back. I was just going to brush them off. No need to bite my head off over it." It'd been more of an impulsive gesture, but thinking about it, it really...was a little strange to do that to some stranger, huh? Anise gripped her wrist behind her back, squeezing her Fon Master staff.

"It's right between your shoulder blades."

[katsukiizmoon]

I’m still on my shit about dad!katsuki so..

How do you think the process of talking about babies with katsuki would go?

(gender neutral I think + misc headcanons)

I think it would start small. You’d notice him look a little too long at a couple with their newborn. Or he’d do something nice for a little one, still calling them a brat.

From there he’d either be too shy to approach it up front and wait for you, or he’d say something like “so when do I get a goddamn brat of my own?” And the conversation would start.

I’m sure he’d be a little flustered, to say the least, when talking about the details. Parenting styles, what he’d need to change for it to happen, preparations, and the reality of what pregnancy/surrogacy/adoption is like.

Like,, the convos..

“Babe, love you but you’re not.. the best about being gentle. Ya can’t run up to a 3 year old and yell at em for not being strong enough. I’ll put you on your ass for it.” You’d suggest, giving him a look from the side.

And he’d just clench his jaw a bit, letting his eyes close and breathing low and slow through his nose. “Alright. Fine. How do I fix that?”

N throughout the process I think he’d use his brain to his advantage. Reading books and such to prepare himself.

Eventually he just goes to his mom and asks what the process for her was like, leaving his mom sputtering and blinking.

Especially in terms of pregnancy, he’d be all “so just tell me what the hell to do cause the damn book said it TEARS?! And what the hell is pre-eclampsia ? Talk woman! TALK!”

or he’d burst in through the doors, stalk over to his parents and just “THEY PEE IN THE UTERUS?!”

I feel like it would be even cuter to see him come home with baby items. I don’t even think he’d really MENTION the baby items, just set em on the counter with everything else.

“Yeah got some shit for the little asshat- I know it’s early but the bottle has my NAME on it!”

And eventually the nursery was set up in the blink of an eye.

[talesoftheraysen]

[blockofhoney]

very much a first draft design but i wanted to come up w/ another c!bee duo kid n thought a puffin hybrid would be fun :) her name’s bonnibel

[chaosrisingverse]

ANISE BLOOD, twenty (biological age - semi-immortal)

ALIAS | n / a

FAMILY | Jason Blood (’father’), Etrigan (’father’), (siblings tba)

ENDGAME SHIP | Aracely Rivera

ORIENTATION | bisexual, cis woman

POWERS / ABILITIES / EQUIPMENT

POWERS | Accelerated Healing, Claws, Enhanced Senses, Fangs,  Hellfire Projection, Semi-Immortality, Superhuman Agility, Superhuman Durability and Superhuman Strength (via Demonic Physiology), Clairvoyance, Eldritch Blast, Energy Absorption, Exorcism, Magic Wards, Necromancy, Precognition, Retrocognition, Summoning, Telekinesis and Telepathy (via Magic)

ABILITIES | Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced), Meditation, Multilingualism, Occultism, Skilled Fighter and Swordsmanship

EQUIPMENT | n / a

FACECLAIM | Lex Dakota (@vintage_venom_)

PINTEREST | Anise

[ascalonianlightbringer]

I got around to the finale of "The Orders of Tyria" after finishing "Speaker of the Dead." This doubled as Gwen's induction into the Order of Whispers as an initiate.

The basic plan was to use an illusion of Queen Jennah to draw Kellach out, tricking him into revealing himself and then giving him a chance to surrender, but defeating him if he refused. This in no way addressed Gwen's earlier concern that he'd drag undead through every town on the way to Divinity's Reach in order to get to Jennah (or "Jennah"), but lalala.

Gwen talked to Logan first, who was predictably on edge about the queen. Gwen had the option to reply "the gods will watch over us," which I kind of like for Gwen, who I've always imagined as unexpectedly devout, and who would be more concerned about Logan, Ihan, and herself than Jennah, anyway. But I ran through the alternate option as well, where you can ask about Logan's incredibly obvious feelings for Jennah. He insisted, "She is Kryta."

I do think it's interesting that his devotion to Kryta and his love for Jennah have essentially fused into one thing, or at least are so joined up that they feed into each other (in a way that strikes me as ... not completely healthy, but still, intriguing).

Gwen also talked to Anise, my problematic fave, who explained that she was there to make the illusion of Jennah seem authentic and also explained what the Shining Blade is. I remember helping them out in GW1, so no surprises there.

Ihan was also there and pointedly reminded Gwen that the Whispers agents are "Our agents, my friend. You're a member of the Order of Whispers now. We all work as one."

Aww, Gwen and Ihan are friends! And look, I love the Order of Whispers so much. I seem to remember the Whispers arc going rather quickly, but I'd happily wander around scheming and sneaking with them for a long time. My people!

Logan wanted an assurance that they'd keep Jennah safe and Ihan promised "on the honor of our Order." They have honor in their own way, which I also love. The combination of skulduggery and dedication to a purely noble goal is just ... they could not be more catered to appeal to me (their vibe actually reminds me a little of my beloved Rogue One).

Ihan also explained that the bombs planted around the room fused Charr and Asura technology. I suspect Gwen was a bit "... :\" about using Charr tech, but she's a pragmatic creature at the end of the day, so I imagine she covered it up with a smile and carried on (a bandit infiltration episode in Brisban Wildlands revealed that her personality is "Captivating," which is fun to imagine).

And then Kellach showed up, apparently by traveling through the sewer system or something like that. Like with Tervelan, you could tell he'd gone wrong by the grime on his Seraph armor:

I'm curious if it's always a code for corruption, but I guess I'll see.

Kellach addressed the fake Jennah as "my beloved queen" (...) and insisted he wasn't going to hurt her, he just needed to, you know, bathe in her blood. I am unsure how this was supposed to happen without hurting her, but he was obviously not all that rational at this point. Upon being told to surrender and that he'd been tricked, he lost his shit and declared he'd kill us all, backed by Risen materializing out of nowhere.

The fight wasn't difficult, especially since Gwen, Ihan, Anise, and Logan managed to lure Kellach + minions into the range of the bombs. But it wasn't a particularly happy victory, given that he started by trying to figure out how to save Kryta from the Risen, and in the end, there was nothing to do but kill him like a rabid dog. Even Gwen said, "Poor Kellach," and I'm inclined to imagine she actually did.

Logan, meanwhile, was pretty shaken:

I bet it does.

Ihan, meanwhile, continued to be super encouraging:

The Order certainly seems a very pleasant crowd. It makes a certain sense, though—they need to be able to get along with anyone.

TYBALT TYBALT TYBALT TYBALT

Er, I mean, I definitely haven't forgotten so much that I've forgotten my favorite Charr ever. I realize this isn't a high bar, but for as much as I dislike mainstream Charr culture and most of their actions over the last 250 years and more, I remember that Tybalt was easily one of my favorite characters in the game.

I really like this moment—the expression, her resolve, the slight bittersweet quality of her rapport with Ihan just as he was about to leave. I seem to recall that Althea did run into him again at some point, but I'm still a bit sad to see him withdraw from major character status.

Then back to Logan! Gwen immediately picked up on how rattled he was and it turned out he'd had an epiphany of sorts. He conceded that maybe defending Jennah wasn't the best long-term use of his abilities, since nobody (including Jennah) is safe as long as the dragons are out there.

Better late than never, I say.

There is a genuine pathos to this for me. I know lots of people dislike him, but idk, I'm really fond of him despite everything.

Gwen loyally assured him that it's possible to come back from mistakes, which are part of being human (...and lbr, also Asura, Charr, sylvari, Norn...). Logan has decided to meet with his old friend Caithe after all of this. Kellach achieved something, anyway!

The cut scene concludes with a cheerful "I'll see you in Lion's Arch!" from Gwen, but it's possible to continue the conversation in the dialogue screen after. Logan freely admitted that his feelings for Jennah go beyond duty, and Gwen said (I think sincerely) that "I hope you find a way to be happy together."

I seem to recall that his feelings end up being more or less unrequited, but that's really not the impression from the personal story.

Logan also described Caithe vaguely (after running the sylvari level 10 story not long ago, his description isn't wrong, but falls a bit short of just how hardcore she really is). He thought she might have discovered something about the dragons that might be helpful, so he was willing to meet up again with her in particular, despite seeing the guild as permanently disbanded. Gwen simply told him to let her know if she could help.

I really do love the female human PC + Logan as 100% bros, and I particularly enjoy it with Gwen and Logan, given how far he was willing to go to help her out in the original street storyline. It's just a peak BROTP in my head.

It's also possible to talk to Ihan before he headed out. From him, Gwen found out that the Preceptors of the Order, Halvora, Valenze, and Doern, are aware of her. Ihan concluded, "Your wits are sharp as knives, Initiate. The Preceptors were right about you." The Preceptors, incidentally, are the visible leaders of the Order, answering to the mysterious and unknown Master of Whispers.

He also told her to take notes on Logan's meeting. Seems sketchy to spy on her friend, but that's the name of the game in the Order. Gwen simply said "Noted," which could easily be a careful ambiguity that's very characteristic of her.

Anyway, that was "The Orders of Tyria." When I first started it, I was like "oh yeah, I have to do the whole arc before I get to join up. :\" But I did really enjoy going through it and very much liked the distinct personalities and human-ness of all the representatives.

Next up: Lion's Arch!

[ascalonianlightbringer]

A tangent I originally cut out of the post, btw:

Even apart from religious practices, a lot of the most central human figures in the main story are aligned with magic/mysticism in some way. Gwen Thackeray, Lady Althea Barradin, Queen Jennah, Countess Anise, and Kasmeer Meade were/are all mesmers (chaos mages/illusionists). The maddened King Adelbern is remembered as "the Sorcerer-King" for cursing his people into eternal undeath; Vizier Khilbron of Orr used evil magic to obliterate Orr and return as a lich; the (spectacularly stylish) villainness Varesh Ossa had holy magic.

Originally the closest thing to a protagonist figure in GW1 was probably the monk Mhenlo—a cleric in all but name, with an annoying but powerful elementalist girlfriend and a friendship with the Canthan ritualist Master Togo that provided the transition between the first two GW1 games. The most important NPC in the third GW1 game, Kormir, absorbed the immense magical power of a god and became the sixth god of humanity centuries before GW2. Logan Thackeray is the main human figure in core GW2 and a Guardian (a paladin type with a mixture of heavy armor, martial skill, and fire, radiant, and defensive holy magic), while the main human NPC role later mainly shifts to Marjory Delaqua, a noir PI necromancer.

Humans are not innately magical as a species—some of them don't have any link to magic or particular connection with the gods, and the devs have said something to the effect that humans only developed magic after being brought to Tyria by their gods. Their link to the mystical is cultural and historical in-story, not racial, but also reinforced by the narrative choices to link the human story to the mystical, magical, and divine.

Speaking of GW1 and GW2 ... I've had plenty of complaints over the years about how GW2 has chosen to handle and retcon human-centric GW1 lore, the framing of the human gods, etc. That said, I've recently been appreciating that GW2 has retained a particular element of GW1's treatment of humanity and their gods that I've always really liked.

Humans in the GW universe are not really generic everymen, as humans so often are in fantasy settings. Nor are they so wildly varying and unpredictable that there's no sense of humanity having its own distinct flavor like the other playable species do. In many ways, they occupy a vaguely "elvish" position in the world—they've been on this world for a very long time and used to be a major power, or rather, made up many major powers with various warring factions that sometimes found common cause.

But in more recent eras, many of the ancient human civilizations have dwindled and/or suffered various atrocities and/or lost their minds. And culturally, humans tend to have a strong affinity for the mystical and even more for the divinely mystical, which their political power in previous eras was directly tied to. The vast majority of humans in this world are faithful worshippers of a human pantheon of six gods (formerly five).

Not all humans are magical or religious, to be sure, but a lot of them are, to the point that this seems their most distinctive cultural quality. Minor NPCs tend to have background dialogue invoking the gods ("By the Six!"), or referencing one of the gods (often but not only the goddess Dwayna, leader of the Six). The main human NPC of the core game, Logan Thackeray, continually references the gods, as do most of his military fellows.

Most interestingly, though, if you choose to play a human, you will automatically be a devout adherent of the faith of the Six regardless of any other choices you make. In addition, human PCs are blessed by one specific god among the Six whom you choose at character creation.

This mostly has minor flavor effects in practice. A priest of the god you chose permanently hangs out in your home district, and sometimes other priests of your god can perceive some mark of their deity's favor when they look at you.

Howeverrrrr, when I say "their deity," I don't mean that they exclusively worship the god they've dedicated their lives to, or that "your god"—the god whose favor you enjoy as a human PC—is your god in any remotely monotheistic way. Humans faithful to the Six are faithful to all the Six until one of the gods falls to evil. And when that god becomes the villain of the second GW2 expansion, various human NPCs are shown going through a crisis of the soul regardless of whether he was their particular patron or not. Having a more specific personal tie to one of the gods, or being particularly blessed by one of them, or being specifically devoted to a life of service to one of them, does not in any way prevent humans from devotion to the rest of the pantheon.

Mechanically, this means that no matter which deity you choose as your particular patron, your human PC starts the game with the ability to pray to Dwayna, goddess of life and air and healing. When you pray to her, a blue image of Dwayna materializes, heals you, and vanishes. As you level up, your human-based skills will extend to prayers to the other gods.

Praying to Lyssa, goddess of illusion/chaos magic and water and beauty, confounds foes by inflicting random conditions on them and random blessings on you. Praying to Kormir, goddess of spirit, order, and truth, will free you from negative effects like immobilization. The final prayer you can use, iirc, and the most powerful, is the prayer to Balthazar, the god of fire and war who ends up going super evil. If you're playing a fragile class like an elementalist or mesmer, praying to him is actually great, because he blesses you with two fierce hounds made of flame who fight alongside you and soak up damage. (Praying to Balthazar does feel a lot weirder in retrospect, I'll admit.)

In any case, the point is that you can pray to ANY human god and receive a brief visitation from that god, because the entire human pantheon are your gods even if you're only special to one of them. A similar dynamic is at work for NPCs as well. A recurring NPC in the core GW2 story, for instance, is Rhie, a priestess of Grenth, god of cold, darkness, judgment, and death (he's not evil, just goth). Even by priest of Grenth standards, Rhie is greatly favored by him, and as a result is able to perform powerful rituals dealing with the boundaries between life and death. But there's no expectation that this means she should abjure the other gods in any way, and she certainly does not (in fact, she provides a Human Religion 101 rundown about the gods in general in her first appearance in the human storyline).

And it's so common in fantasy, I feel, that polytheistic cultures are conceptualized as giving adherents a wider choice of gods to be the one they actually worship for real, often with the implication that worshipping one god in the pantheon naturally translates into hostility or apathy towards other gods in the same pantheon. And so I do enjoy playing a religiously devout character who has a special patron deity blessing her and who is emphatically polytheistic throughout her entire original storyline.

[breelandwalker]

Magical Oil Recipes - Baneful Edition

For anyone looking to brew up a potion with a less-than-friendly bent, here are some recipes I've created that you might find useful.

To prepare them, blend the ingredients in such proportions as feels correct for your purposes (or as supplies allow). Use dried material except where indicated. Place a few spoonfuls in a mason jar with a screwtop lid and fill the jar with a bland oil of your choice. (Vegetable oil of the sort you would buy for cooking works fine.) Screw the lid on tightly and shake well to combine, then leave the jar in a dark dry place for 2-4 weeks to steep.

Once steeped, prepare a clean storage bottle (also with a secure lid) and label with the type of oil and the bottling date. Strain the oil through paper towels or cheesecloth to remove the plant material, then bottle immediately. Store away from sunlight and heat for up to one year. Use for spellwork as you see fit.

(Please note that NONE of these potions are meant to be taken internally by any means. Observe all proper safety measures related to glass, fire, and potentially harmful plants as necessary during preparation.)

*- Ingredient is potentially harmful if inhaled or ingested. **- Ingredient should not be used or handled if you are pregnant or nursing.

All-Purpose Hexing Oil For general hexing, cursing, and baneful magic.

Dried Chili Pepper

Fresh Lime Peel

Lemongrass (dried or fresh)

Rusted Nail (place in bottle with finished oil)

All-Purpose Hexbreaking Oil For general negation of baneful spells cast by oneself or others.

Agrimony**

Cinquefoil

Fennel

Vervain

Solomon's Seal Root (place in bottle with finished oil)

Backhanded Blessing Oil For blessings that are anything but benevolent.

Burnt Cinquefoil

Bay Leaf

Pine Needles

Bayberry Root NOTE: Prepare as you would a blessing oil, then twist the blessing into a curse, i.e. May You Get Everything You Deserve.

Done in the Dark Concealment Oil For secrecy, confidentiality, and general deception.

Juniper Berries

Licorice Root

Black Hemp (Dogbane)

Ferns or Dried Seaweed Note: For the final ingredient, use whichever is easier to obtain. Both bracken and seaweed work well for basic concealment spells.

Eye of Newt Disruption Oil For disrupting and confounding magical efforts against you.

Black Mustard Seeds

Bloodroot**

Nettle Leaf

Garlic (1 clove, bruised)

No Rest For The Wicked Hexing Oil For punishing one's enemies.

Chili Pepper (any)

Horseradish Root

Cramp Bark

Bayberry Root

On Your Own Head Retribution Oil For counter magic and revenge hexes.

Elderberries*

Bloodroot**

Devil's Shoestring**

Vetiver

Tangled Shoelaces Binding Oil To impede someone's ability to move or act against you.

Pine Needles

Devil's Shoestring**

Scullcap**

Coffee Grounds

Iron Nail in master bottle

Wicked Witch Heavy-Duty Cursing Oil For occasions when a regular-strength hex just won't do.

Wormwood* **

Ghost Chili Pepper (or the hottest chili you can get)

Lemon Seeds

Lobelia* Note: Use With Extreme Caution And Cover Your Ass.

Witchbane Warding Oil For repelling and countering harmful spells.

Bay Leaves

Elderflower

Star Anise

Birch Bark

Should the reader require supplies, I recommend the following:

Penn Herb Company

Starwest Botanicals

Bulk Apothecary

Mountain Rose Herbs

Specialty Bottle

Image Credit - Shaiith

All recipes are (c) 2017 Bree NicGarran, published in Pestlework: A Book of Magical Powders & Oils. Please check out the book if you would like more recipes.

If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, tune in to my podcast Hex Positive, or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop.

[bebemoon]

look for the name COPPELIA (requested by @c0ppelia) | chloé silk musseline cut-out top w/ ruffles, onitsuka tiger "ensemble 59" silver metallic lace-up ballet flats (c. 2ooo's), prada large matellasse bowling bag in wrinkled padded nylon fabric, first edition hardback book "the principles of classical dance" written by joan lawson (published in 1972), issey miyake "a drop d'issey" eau de parfum (almond milk, damask rose, orange blossom, lilac, jasmine, star anise, ambrox, musk, atlas cedar, vanillin)

[lazyevaluationranch]

*pats askbox gently* there are more Thermoreceptors?

(I'm sorry ur dome was so hot; I hope its much cooler now!)

My bluff has been called! Hooray!!

I am not a neurologist, a biologist, or a scientist. If anyone with better credentials than "obsessed with emergent properties" contradicts me, listen to them instead.

Cell membranes include little portal proteins that open under certain circumstances based on the shape of the protein and let chemicals into and out of the cell. These portals are useful for all sorts of things: managing water and nutrients, sending messages to nearby cells, serving the whims of tiny intercellular cats. Science hasn't found the tiny intercellular cats yet, but we all know they're there; the existence of a door that can be opened necessarily implies an indecisive feline.

Some protein shapes open up if the temperature is within a certain range. This means that if a cell with that sort of protein in its membrane experiences a temperature in the right range, it will move some chemicals around. This is used to make nerve cells that send a message towards the brain whenever they experience a certain temperature.

Because evolution does all its best work the night before the deadline while on a Code Red Mountain Dew bender, the opened-by-temperature portal proteins are mostly copied from opened-by-a-specific-chemical portal proteins. All of them, in fact, still open for specific chemicals, which means there exist out in the world liquids you can put in a bottle that most animals will instead perceive as "a temperature between 8 and 26 degrees" So things can get a little weird.

Temperature-opening portal proteins:

TRPA1 Opens for temperatures below 12C (not air temperature, skin or body temperature, so you might be kind of in trouble when this happens). Used by hunting snakes to detect where heat isn't so they can find prey. Feels painful in an itchy sort of way.

This one also opens for allyl isothiocyanate. Many plants have evolved to take advantage of the existence of a chemical most animals perceive as itchy pain, especially horseradish and wasabi. Allyl isothiocyanate is harmful to plants, so they keep two separate components in tiny compartments. When an animal bites the plant, the compartments break open their contents mix to create allyl isothiocyanate.

"This plant tastes like itching" is a good defense against almost all animals, but some humans have taught themselves to appreciate the taste of itching.

TRPM8 Opens for temperatures between 8 and 26 degrees. Opens for menthol (peppermint, spearmint, wintergreen) and linalool (roses, orange blossoms, basil). Feels cool or cold.

"This plant tastes like cold" is a somewhat less effective defense against being eaten than "this plant tastes like itching" but it's a more widespread defense because TRPM8-activating chemicals don't harm plants and don't need elaborate two-part storage.

TRPV4 Opens for temperatures from 27-37 C. I'm not sure what this one feels like, or if even feels like anything, since it covers normal human body temperatures. Whatever feeling we get from this one, we're feeling it nearly all the time.

Plants do make a chemical that tastes like this temperature, and it can repel nonhuman creatures with different body temperatures: allicin, the flavour of garlic. Like allyl isothiocyante, it is stored in two compartments inside the plant, and combined when the plant is bitten.

Maybe this is why vampires abhor garlic. There is a feeling that, as humans, we always have. Something we don't notice, something deeper than touch. That feel disappears forever when you become a vampire, except those unbearable moments when garlic returns to you for a fleeting moment the experience of lost humanity.

TRPV3 Opens for temperatures 33-39 degrees. Opens for eugenol, found in cinnamon, nutmeg, bay leaf, holy basil, ginger, allspice, and cloves. Feels like warmth.

Plants with high quantities of eugenol, like holy basil and Japanese star anise, are sometimes sacred to buddhists because they smell nice and bugs don't like to eat them, so you can burn them as incense without worrying about all the little crawly guys.

Humans apparently think food that tastes like "warm" is comforting.

TRPV1 Opens for temperatures over 43 degrees. (The one I was experiencing in the overheated dome, which I had never felt from air before) Opens for capsaicin, the active chemical in hot peppers. Opens for the combination of temperature and acidity of fevers and infected wounds. This one we feel as pain, as burning, as flame.

TRPV1 says: Your flesh is failing, and your doom is very near.

Humanity says: This is incredible. We are going to breed plants that cause this sensation as much as possible, and we will spend thousands of years getting it right. We are going to dry this and powder this and flake it and grill it and ferment it and eat it with everything.

And when we leave earth and go into space, we take hot peppers with us. Without gravity, fluid builds up in nasal passages, and astronauts sort of have colds the entire time they're in space and can't smell food very well. But the Nearness Of Your Doom is not a smell and is not perceived by the nose, so - with their doom always on the other side of ten centimeters of insulated aluminum - astronauts can taste hot peppers. In 2002, Peggy Whitson, commander of the ISS, jokingly refused to let a replacement crew on board until they handed over the hot sauce.

We are a strange and wonderful species.

[idksmtms]

'tis the damn season (Modern!Aegon Targaryen x reader) - evermore series

A/N: Hiiiiii! I am finally back after way too long omg! While I am still stumbling my way through getting back into my writing, please enjoy this next instalment of the evermore series! I will slowly be coming back and trying to post a lot more often, but just bear with me while I navigate my writing journey. Enjoy!!!

Summary: Three years ago you left home behind to pursue university. You left Aegon. Now, you’re back and faced with not only the destroyed relationship you had once run from, but all the thoughts and feelings you have been dwelling on and refusing to face over the years you’ve been away. 

Word count: ~3.9k

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, angst, post-breakup, Aegon being heartbroken (past), breaking up, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of drug addiction, mentions of mental health issues, mentions of rehab, rehab recovery, breakups, heartbreak, just painful and difficulty reunions, owning up to your mistakes and too-late realisations, angsty but hopeful (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

The smell of mulled wine wafted gently across your face, carried by the warm air blasting from every heater in the manor. Cinnamon, and close, star anise and a hint of cherry, Mrs. Targaryen’s personal twist that made the recipe oh so coveted. 

The door was unmanned, a rather surprising thing given how much Mrs. Targaryen loved to flaunt the servants and security guards. Perhaps you really had been gone too long. 

You deposited your clutch on the little side table and divested yourself of your coat, first one arm, then the other, a quick pat of the pockets, a little fling onto the coat rack so the heavy black felt thing was situated just enough not to topple the overflowing rack over. You brushed the hem of your dress down, fingertips catching on the glistening red sequins before brushing over your black tights. 

You picked up the clutch again, a matching red sequin rectangle, and turned to the ornate mirror hung on the wall above the end table, gold edged and running the length of the wall. You took up only a sliver the size of you, and clasped your hands around the clutch to press it to your stomach. You straightened up, shoulders back and spine relaxed. You stretched your lips here and there, weird grotesque smiles and pouts and bared teeth to check for the millionth time that the slash of red lipstick had not strayed. You batted your eyes at yourself before turning away and beginning a gentle walk down to the splash of light in the hall from which a daunting array of chatter, clinking glasses, and soft instrumental seasonal tunes emitted. 

When Mrs. Targaryen heard (from the mouths of your parents no less) that you had finally returned after three years of university (“not even one visit during all that time?!” she had inquired to your mother - who then promptly explained that they went up North to you instead), she had impressed upon your mother that if you declined to attend her annual holiday party that she would take it as a personal affront. 

So here you were, fashionably late (only due to the almost clinical level of overthinking you had engaged in from the moment you began to dress to just a second prior) and ready to show your face in what you and Helaena had affectionately dubbed ‘high society’ once more. 

It’s not like you had cut off ties with everyone when you left. Almost everyone who had followed you on instagram was still there, nestled in your private profile (except the select few that were occasionally pruned on days you were bored). You still responded to messages, were still in the group chats (despite never once contributing), facetimed friends, et cetera, et cetera. Just because you didn’t return didn’t mean anything (except, of course, that it did). 

You stepped into the room, slow but steady, and took a moment to gaze around the ballroom. You were unsurprised at the continuing theme of green. Dark green curtains cinched back at each bay-style window, sashes and bows of the same fabric framing the tops. Dark green, satiny, tablecloths draped carefully over the standing tables dotted all around. The Christmas tree near the back towered over everyone, glowing with yellow lights and gold, silver, and phthalo green baubles. You still remembered how Mrs. Targaryen said that coloured tree lights were tacky, one of the more posh things you had heard from her in your early teen years. 

You dropped your gaze to the people. You could see some familiar faces, girls you hadn’t spoken to since the end of school, but whose instagram stories still diligently kept you up to date on their lives. Other people who had dropped off your radar completely and now brought vague and somewhat touching memories to mind of moments shared in classes, laughs and jokes once given and received. 

You caught glimpses of Mrs. Targaryen’s auburn hair through breaks in the crowd, a delicate hold on a flute of glass filled with non-alcoholic cider. Since you had known her she had refused to partake in drink, something that had earned your respect once upon a time. Before… 

You caught sigh of Aemond in the corner, a shiny black suit doing well to blend him into the shadows. He was gently grasping a flute glass in long elegant fingers, and his eyepatch was a perfect match to his suit, pressed perfectly to his face and over his neatly combed man bun. 

His ever watchful eyes caught you quickly, a spark of recognition, a little lift of the brow, the careful deposit of his glass on the table as he began rounding it. You smiled, lifted your hand in a little wave and waited for him to find you. 

His progress was interrupted, though not halted, by his sister gliding into view and smiling brightly as she gently grasped your arms for a moment before pulling them away. The most hug she could ever give you with her aversion to physical touch. You had never once minded, you had grown up with Helaena just the way she was, gentle Helaena as you often called her. 

Though she couldn’t handle touch, she stood as close as possible without it and beamed at you, the most unabashed grin you had ever seen from her. 

Her cheeks were rosy and her beautiful hair was gathered into a beautiful braided knot at the back of her head. She wore a dress of green and silver, emphasising the pale silveriness of her skin, no doubt a mutated form of the gown her own mother was wearing. 

“I can’t believe you’re back!” She said in an excited little voice, husky and gentle. You resisted the urge to clasp her hands in yours and instead held tighter to your clutch. 

“Me neither, it's been a long time,” you sighed. You could see the touch of seriousness twinge Helaena’s face, but you looked over her shoulder and beckoned Aemond closer before she could voice it. 

“Hello Y/n,” his soft whispery voice had not changed since you’d been gone. “Finally returned?” 

You smiled at him, pulling him into a little side hug before threading your arm through his and pulling yourself tight to him. It felt familiar, homely. You had been forcing the poor boy into cuddles since your families had been connected. 

“Yes, Mr. Dragon,” a teasing but rare nickname that made his remaining eye twitch in annoyance. “Back for now.” 

“I’m your elder, you should show some respect,” he gritted out, trying to shake you off his arm halfheartedly. You simply clung on and pressed a quick teasing peck to his cheek. Though it was technically true that you were younger than him (though only just about), you had been at just the right age to gain all the siblings’ friendship rather than becoming a patronised younger hanger-on. 

Aemond huffed but stopped his attempts to detach himself from you. You had always been a little too loving for his tastes. 

Helaena leaned her elbows on the standing table the three of you had gravitated toward and gently began fiddling with the clasp of your clutch which you had thrown down at the first opportunity. Your eyes drifted to the crowd again, as if you were looking for someone, and Helaena cleared her throat. 

“Have you seen him yet?” She asked in that quiet halting way of hers. You snapped your eyes back to her, felt Aemond stiffen a little in your grip. You wanted to think of something witty and gently humorous to say but there was the hint of a lump in your throat so you just shook your head with a pathetic little smile. 

“Ah,” Aemond nodded and then pursed his lips, swallowing and then gazing down at the table. 

“I’m a little scared to,” you whispered, now fiddling with the other end of your clutch. 

“Because you broke his heart?” 

“Aemond!” Helaena exclaimed, glaring at him as you took the glass out of his hand and sipped from it. 

“Because I’m scared I regret it,” you blurted out, exhaling long and slow. Helaena smiled sympathetically and reached forward to awkwardly pat your hands twice. 

You could see Mrs. Targaryen over her daughter’s shoulder, making her way closer and then setting her eyes on you. She smiled that polite and reserved smile she always used, then pulled you into a gentle hug when she got to you. She issued you on the cheek then lightly grasped both your arms to look at you properly. 

“How are you, my dear? It has been far too long.” You smiled and nodded, brushing a piece of your hair from your face. 

“I’m alright, thank you, Mrs. Targaryen. Just trying to relax for a little while right now.” SHe nodded along to your words and smiled softly, the way she had once done when you were little and thanking her for letting you stay over for a sleepover with Helaena. 

“Congratulations on your graduation, dear. I’m so proud of you. I always knew you could achieve great things.” You felt the bashfulness burn under your skin and bowed your head in thanks. 

When you looked up, you caught sight of him in the distance behind her. He was talking to someone, one hand grasping a drink and the other safely tucked into his trouser pocket. His hair was a little shorter than before, slicked back so it only flicked up at the ends by his neck. You could see an earring, his constant, and an array of rings on his hand. You wondered if he still wore the one you got him all those years ago. He was smiling, chuckling at whatever the other person had said, and you felt something clench somewhere inside of you. 

He looked… clean, well put-together, comfortable in his skin. You hoped he felt that way. His eyes flicked towards you and you turned your attention back to Mrs. Targaryen, nodding and smiling as she filled you in on all the changes about the place before she ultimately found another person that needed to be met. 

“I’ll just go say hello to Daphne, but I’ll find you again soon, dear.” She kissed you on the cheek and paused just as she was about to leave. She looked you right in the eye and gave you the most sincere smile you had ever seen from her. “It;s very good to see you again.’ And then she was off once more. 

You turned back to the table with Helaena and Aemond and motioned for one of the waiters to come over. You grabbed a drink off his tray and instantly began taking quick little sips from it. The side of your face burned and you couldn’t tell if it was because he might be staring at you or because you were simply aware he was on that side of the room. 

Suddenly the sting became agitation and you knew you needed fresh air right at that moment or you would start blabbering whatever words popped into your head and you were not interested in handling that particular panic symptom. 

“I’m gonna go out for a smoke,” your voice was abrupt, curt, as you began reaching for your clutch and picking it up. 

“You don’t even smoke,” Helaena exclaimed quietly. 

“There’s always time to start,” you mumbled as you turned away and walked out of the room, heading back the way you had come only such a short time ago. 

The air was brisk, like cold palms being laid flat against your skin as you shivered on the doorstep. 

You could just leave now and go home. You had shown your face at the party, there was no need to stay. You also knew that if you left before dinner, Mrs. Targaryen would be annoyed beyond belief. And leaving without telling Helaena felt like a betrayal anyway. She would understand you needing air for however long you wanted but she would expect you back in at some point. 

For now, you could just shiver on the doorstep, gulping in the lungfuls of icy air and thinking deep philosophical thoughts. 

The door opened a moment later and you turned toward the sound. He was a silhouette in the golden backlight, like a sign from god. You just stared at him as he slowly came outside and shut the door behind him. Your arms wrapped tighter around yourself. 

He didn’t say a word, just continued looking at you as he lifted his arm and held it out to you, your coat proffered in his hand. You gently took it from him and he watched you slip it on. 

“Y/n,” he said your name so evenly, no emotion, no indication of his thoughts. You sort of hated that you could no longer tell what he was thinking. His voice had not changed, you thoguht, then scolded yourself because why would it have? 

“Aegon,” you whispered, chewing on your lip as you glanced toward him then away then back again. You could only accept him in small doses right now. 

“You’re back,” he responded, showing his hands into his pockets as he looked out onto the gravel drive then back to you. You could see his truck parked by the garage on the far side, near the hedges on the property line. It was just as garish and hold as it had always been. Just as full of memories. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, biting your lip a little harder until it stung. 

“You didn’t say,” and he sounded almost offended, as if you hadn’t just ignored him for the past three years. 

“Should I have?” You mumbled, glancing back at him then away again. He was staring, unabashedly, at your face. 

“No,” he shook his head slowly, back and forth, then popped his lips. “Nope.”

In the silence that followed, you felt the pressure of the air on your brain. Your eyes stung and your throat clogged and you could do nothing but let the waves wash over you. You turned to him, stared at his blurry outline through the tears and felt your lips begin to shake with the sobs threatening at your throat and tongue. He was quick to pull you in, to wrap his arms around you and tuck your face in against his neck. 

He was so warm, as he had always been, but leaner now, less soft and more defined muscle. He smelt clean too, like fresh ocean-scented laundry detergent and cold cologne and his weird spicy shampoo. He clung to you tightly and gently hushed you and you wanted to hit him, to pummel him on the chest and slap him across the face. 

How dare he be so nice? How dare he comfort you when you deserved none of it? How dare he be so kind when all you had done was break his heart when he deserved the pain the least? You sobbed harshly against his shoulder, wrapped your arms around him and clung tightly. You could feel the damp fabric under your face. You only pressed closer until the sobs became quiet little blubbers and you could feel the drip of a tear against the back of your neck, the press of his pursed lips against your hair. 

You pulled away quickly, turned your back to him as you began hurriedly wiping at your cheeks and praying your waterproof mascara worked. You could hear him sniffing behind you, and you paused, closed your eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then whispered, 

“I’m sorry.” He waited for a beat. 

“For what?” 

“I-” you swallowed, turned back around, looked into the bright, shiny, achingly beautiful blue of his eyes, the little line of water balanced precariously behind his eyelid. “I don’t know. A lot of things.” Your voice was clogged and pain-filled and you swallowed again. 

“Let’s be specific then,” he breathed out, smiling the joking little smile when he was feeling sarcastic and teasing, but a sadder, waterier, version. 

“For leaving when I did, for not explaining properly and maturely, for not calling.” You paused. “For letting myself believe I didn’t love you that much. For thinking that leaving also had to mean leaving behind.” You brought your hand up and began chewing on the side of your finger. He was quick to bring your hand back down, a gentle press on the forearm to force your arm back to your side. You cleared your throat and wrapped your arms around yourself. You looked off into the distance, into the black night by hedges. 

“Helaen told me you got out of rehab last year.” You began chewing on your lip. He cleared his throat. 

“Yes,” he nodded, “one and a half years sober now.” 

“Congrats,” you whispered. “You look good, sobriety suits you.” You paused. Gulped. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. What does that even mean…” you glanced at his face and the smile he was trying so hard to repress, the mischievous glint in his eyes. A breathless laugh escaped you, a pitchy little giggle that was most likely insanely unattractive but made you feel freer, a little lighter. 

The sudden bursting wish that he would kiss you was blinding. And sobering. You cleared your throat and looked away again. 

“It’s ok,” he finally said in a sigh, strolling closer. “Well, I mean, as ok as getting your heart broken by the girl you thought you would marry can be.” You shot him a glare. 

“Don’t joke about this.” 

“Why not? I’m the one that got heartbroken if I remember correctly.” “Aegon.” 

“Alright, sorry,” he hugged, but the smile said he really wasn’t. You clenched your hands together. 

“I was wrong,” you finally blurted out. 

You hadn’t been expecting to do this tonight. You had sat in your bedroom a week after you had returned and thought about how you would get in contact with him. A text message perhaps, a letter passed through Helaena if you were feeling old school, something to let him know you wanted to talk. And then you would meet him at a coffee shop, or maybe at the park where you used to force him to take walks with you so he wouldn’t sit in his room thinking about all the drugs he could be doing. 

But then Mrs. Targaryen had bumped into your mother and you had been forced into attendance, and you suppose the unavoidable is as the name suggests… unavoidable. 

Aegon didn’t say a word. 

“I was wrong in so many ways that I actually don’t even know where to start now…” you shifted a little, fiddling with a coin you had left in your coat pocket.

You could almost see the argument play out in your mind’s eye like a movie. The university acceptance letter crumpled in your hand as you both stood in his room. You were looking at him apprehensively, at the darkness in his eyes as you told him how excited you were, how you had to start packing and booking flights and… You could hear him asking what would happen between you two, what would become of the beautiful budding little thing the two of you had cultivated in the midst of all the troubles of your lives. 

“I don’t know,” you had said hesitatingly, looking down at the paper in your hands. You were young and irrational then. Though you had only grown three years older since (a blip of time in the grand scheme of things), so much had changed since. 

You could remember the way you had said you were going, as if he had ever mentioned stopping you. How defensive you had gotten when there had been no attack. 

“What about us?” He had asked. “What about me?” And the stupid, angry, words you had said. How you weren’t going to let anything hold you back. Not even this. 

It had felt so right at the time, to tamp down the feelings you had for the chance at an exciting, independent life. Not knowing… Not knowing what he had been going through. Not knowing that he hid those dark, struggling, parts of himself from you so you would only ever see the sunny side of life. Not knowing that he was just sitting there and taking all that shit from you because he would do anything to make you happy. 

And you, spoilt and ignorant you, had just up and left and taken three years to realise that while you enjoyed your life away from home, it could only have been better with him still in it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about the drinking and the drugs? Why did you let me say all that shit to you?” You looked at him, feeling the tears burn again but ignoring them as you reached out and grasped his hand between yours, gently running your fingers across his own. 

“I don’t know,” he mumbled in return, bringing his other hand to do the same across the back of your hand. 

You supposed it didn’t matter. Both of you knew, even if he didn’t say it. And it didn’t really need to be said anyway. 

You moved even closer, gently cupping his cheek. He closed his eyes, nuzzled his face into your palm and took a shaky breath in, then out. You ran your thumb across his cheekbone, back and forth, feeling the barest hint of stubble come in. 

“Aegon,” you mumbled, pressing a little closer so that more of you touched him, so that more of you could nuzzle into his warmth. “I can’t promise that I’ll stay here,” you began hesitantly, “but if I leave again, will… will you come with me?” 

Aegon opened his eyes and looked at you. Deep into your eyes as if he could see to the very dark core of your soul. 

He could see the first time the two of you had kissed, awkward and gentle in the darkness of the Targaryen manor kitchen when you were getting water late at night during a sleepover with Helaena and he was sneaking back in from a party. 

He could see the text messages where he had shyly asked you out on a date despite already having kissed you. The quick response you had sent, eager and unafraid. 

He could see all the little dates between the highs and the drunken stupors. He could see the times you had sat in his room, studying at his desk while he lay on his bed, still a little buzzed, thinking about the next party or dwelling on the way his mother had yelled and called him a failure, compared him to you, only a few hours prior. 

He could see the years of silence. The news that you had packed and gone off to university, left him behind like he always knew you would. Your number, still in his phone, left untouched. Radio silence. 

He looked at you now, teary eyed and so pained, so apologetic. At your shiny and sparkly red dress. At your lips. 

He pitched forward and pressed his mouth firmly to yours. He kissed you like he was drinking water. He kissed you like he had not taken a breath in three years… and you were air.

[najia-cooks]

[ID: First image is of a golden brown boule studded with blueberries and covered with seeds; second image shows the boule cut in half to show a holely bread with blueberries throughout. End ID]

Rustic no-knead blueberry bread

This is a crusty, no-knead, sweet-savory bread that pairs blueberries with spices and herbs inspired by West Asian cooking. Fennel, anise, sesame, and mahlab powder are reminiscent of the دُقَّة كَعْك ("duqqa ka'k"; cake powder) used in pastries, while za'tar and caraway skew more savory.

The long rise yields a well-fermented dough with a robust flavor that stands up well against the sweetness and pungency of the fennel and aniseed. The result is a jammy, complex, aromatic boule.

This bread has an open, irregular crumb, great for slicing, toasting, dipping, or spreading. Try it with labna and honey, olive oil and za'tar, or a spreadable cheese. I've also made sandwiches with thick slices of this bread and fried, glazed tofu drizzled with tarator and topped with Iraqi mango pickles, to excellent effect.

Recipe under the cut!

Patreon | Paypal | Venmo

Makes one medium-sized boule.

Ingredients:

3 cups (360g) bread flour

2 tsp kosher salt

1/4 tsp dry active yeast

2 tsp mahlab powder (optional)

1 tsp fennel seed + 1 tsp aniseed, coarsely ground

About 1 2/3 cup water (room temperature)

1/2 cup firm fresh blueberries

1 Tbsp za’tar (wild thyme), crumbled

Additional fennel seeds, aniseed, caraway, and sesame, to top

Mahlab (محلب) powder is the ground-up pits of Mahleb cherries. It can be purchased at a halal or specialty spice store.

Za'tar (wild thyme) can be found in dried form at a halal grocery store. Note that the spice blend, which includes wild thyme, sumac, sesame seeds, and other spices, will also be labelled "za'tar." If you don't have or can't locate any of the herb itself, use any dried woody herb of your choice (e.g. rosemary, thyme, sage), chopped.

Instructions:

1. Making the dough. Measure flour into a large mixing bowl. Add salt, yeast, seeds, and thyme and stir to combine.

2. Gradually add water until a soft, sticky dough forms. You may need more or less than 1 2/3 cup.

3. Flatten dough in the bowl and top with some of the blueberries. Fold the dough to enclose the blueberries, add more blueberries on top, and fold again. Repeat until all blueberries are incorporated.

4. First rise. Shape dough into a ball and place in the bowl seam-side down. Pat the top of the dough with some olive oil and cover the bowl with a kitchen towel. Allow to rest at room temperature for 16-20 hours.

5. Shaping. Gently remove the dough from the bowl and allow it to deflate. Shape the boule by folding an edge in over the center, rotating the dough slightly, and repeating until you have gone all the way around.

6. Flip the ball over so the seam side is down. Place your hands on either side of the dough and then move them down towards the base of the boule, tucking some of the dough under and towards the seam, to tighten the top of the ball. Rotate the ball slightly and do this again, repeating until you've gone all the way around a couple times.

This is the basic method for shaping a boule, lightly adapted to avoid breaking any blueberries. If any of the blueberries start to pop out of the surface of the dough, just press them back in.

7. Second rise. Place your boule on a piece of parchment paper and cover with a kitchen towel. Allow to rise for 1-2 hours, until noticeably puffy.

8. Baking. Place a Dutch oven in your oven and preheat to 450 °F (230 °C). Remove the Dutch oven and place the boule, along with the parchment paper, inside. Put the lid on the Dutch oven and return it to the oven. Bake for 30 minutes.

9. Remove the Dutch oven's lid and bake bread for another 20 minutes, or until the crust is deeply golden brown.

To bake the bread without a Dutch oven, preheat a baking tray in the center of the oven, while preheating a skillet (rated to at least 450 °F) in the bottom; once preheated, transfer the bread and parchment paper to the tray, and pour a few cups of water in the skillet; bake for 30 minutes. Remove the skillet and bake another 20 minutes until golden brown.

Allow the bread to cool completely before cutting into it to avoid creating a mushy texture.

[talesoftheraysen]

[jules-writes-stories]

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows

Azriel x Eris

Chapter 37 on AO3

The sacred space was rife with magic. He could taste it on his tongue—smoky sweet, like anise or nutmeg. The massive oaks grew in a semicircle and towered above, almost blotting out the gray feathered sky. Their blood-red leaves were the size of battle shields, and their craggy outstretched branches arched above like a domed canopy. It was like the Mother herself fashioned an amphitheater for the Fae to watch the bloodthirsty spectacle. 

The silvery bark of the massive sentinels rippled like scars or scales. In the trick of the dappled light, with the magic buzzing, Azriel swore the grooves and ridges of the trunks almost resembled faces. 

The Sacred Grove of Autumn was traditionally reserved for the Blood Duel. The duel's strong magic and the intensity of the anger in the blood spilled kept the leaves forever drenched in red. 

Eris sauntered into the grove wearing dark brown Autumn leathers. Azriel was going to kill him.

Thanks to everyone still on this journey with me. Special thank you to @pippsmcgee for beta reading ♥️

Please let me know if you ever want on our off the tag | @the-darkestminds @fieldofdaisiies @mistandmemories @c-starstuff-man0 @molcat07 @chunkypossum @going-through-shit @talibunny30 @yanny-77 @lilah-asteria @amalhe-kofee @futurehunt @seihdacalling @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @unanswered-stars @that-girl-reading @christeareads @g00seg1rl

[golgafrincham]

Quick red chile mole

1 1/2 tsp each: cumin seeds, coriander seed, anise seed, dried oregano

1 sm white onion finely diced

2 cloves garlic finely minced

1/3 cup mild red chile powder (NM or Ancho) (you can also add some powdered chipotle)

1 1/2 c water

2 tbl oil

1 Oz Mexican chocolate, chopped

Salt

1 tsp sherry vinegar

Toast then pound seeds, saute onions until golden then add garlic and all spices. Add chile and stir to combine then add water and bring to boil. After 10 min if it's too thick add a little more water and the chocolate to melt. Add salt to taste and vinegar at the end.

Use over meat/tofu/enchiladas or posole (or just eat it with a tortilla if you're me)

@gravitasmalfunction

[ascalonianlightbringer]

Reblogging for the daytime GW2 crowd!

I decided to make an even more absurdly specific poll than my others! I've seen various Guild Wars 2 Valentine's Day polls, but none specifically tailored to my interests, so here goes: