#i am making pierogi

[coconuttyglittersmurf]

[countess-of-edessa]

“are the girls going to help you make pierogis?” well no one else is fucking gonna are they? no one else in this house has functional fucking hands apparently

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

I wish the grocery stores here sold better pierogi bc I’m sure mrs. T is a lovely lady but her pierogi are so mid and only potato filled

[acetechne]

gearing up to start drawing again and i’ve been reflecting on why i draw and why it frustrates me when people say they cant draw or could never draw or whatever and, okay, yes i have spent years doing this for reasons which would involve a whole nother post than what i’m actually thinking about at the moment but i digress

i think people get self conscious of their art because they think if they don’t want to put the time in or get to a certain level that art isn’t worth pursuing at all and today i am breaking down your door and i am sitting down on the floor with you and i am telling you listen: the reason to do art is not to post it and it isn’t to be good at it and it isn’t to draw every leaf on every tree. the reason to do art is because you are a magician and you are putting a little guy there that wasn’t there before. and then later you can open your book of little guys and be like :)

“oh but I couldn’t” shh! SHUT! i am TELLING you RIGHT NOW that if you draw the worst little guy possible and you look at that little guy and you laugh and smile, then that literal 60 seconds it took you to draw that is more worth all of the years that i spent learning to draw because i desperately wanted people to notice and appreciate and be friends with me in school (and yes, occasionally it does happen but mostly in my experience that motivation backfires because half the people just want shit for free but wouldn’t give you the time of day and half the people are too intimidated to even talk to you). maybe it’s because i’m old now but who cares about that shit, you draw because it’s good to create something and look at it and smile because it’s yours and it belongs to you and you did that.

[taketheringtolohac]

enema of the state is such a bad album except for when it’s a good album. ty for understanding.

[helianskies]

Opinions on potatoes, as in the root vegetable

the brit and pole in me would like to say potatoes are just Very Important and versatile and i could live off of them for eternity. as a wise man once said:

honestly, who needs anything else in life?

[wabblebees]

.

[natandacat]

Anyway im gonna sleep real hard so I can be in good enough shape to play hades tomorrow :) and make pierogis!

[bathroomcorpse]

my birthday is really just the day where i force my friends to eat eastern european food with me

[dixons-sunshine]

I love your Daryl x reader stories

I wanted to ask if you could write sth about Daryl x fempolish reader. Like maybe they meet in Alexandria and she made him some polish food he loved or just some love short story. I don't know it's up to you.

Have a great day

Just Try It | Daryl Dixon x Polish!Fem!Reader

*GIF and moodboard aren't mine.*

Summary: After finding all the ingredients needed to make one of your cultural dishes, you decide to make it when Carol invited you and Daryl over. However, you never suspected a man that ate snakes on the regular would be so skeptical when it came to food.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: The Commonwealth.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 932.

A/n: Thank you so much for helping me with the translations @mawidixon! I hope you like this! (Translations will be at the bottom.)

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Nah, it looks weird as shit. Ain't gon' eat it.”

You rolled your eyes at him, huffing in frustration. “Kochanie, I've seen you eat a snake before. We've had to eat literal dog meat before. How the hell are you picky about this? It's just Pierogi. I've eaten this many times before the world ended. It won't kill you.”

Daryl peered over your shoulder, looking at the Pierogi that you were busy frying in a pan. His eyes were carefully following your movements, skeptical about the dish you were preparing. Carol had invited you and the kids over for dinner and had asked you to prepare Pierogi, and you had agreed rather ecstatically. It was rare for you to be able to make one of your traditional dishes, so you had jumped at the opportunity to do so.

“Why would ya boil it and then fry it? Seems fuckin' unnecessary if ya ask me,” Daryl replied skeptically, slightly scrunching his nose. “And the mashed potatoes? Why would ya wrap dough 'round it? Ya could jus' eat it as is. No need to go makin' dough outta flour and ruinin' mashed potatoes by wrappin' it 'round it. S'a waste of cheese, too, addin' it in.”

You clicked your tongue and carefully took the pan from the hot fire, and placed it onto a rag on the counter as to not burn the pristine laminate countertop. You turned to Daryl, your eyebrows raised questioningly. “Be honest with me right now, Dixon. Have you ever actually had Pierogi before?”

Daryl immediately shook his head. “Nah,” he told you, crossing his arms over his chest.

You hummed and nodded, turning to the bowl that had the Pierogi that you had made earlier. You grabbed the lukewarm Pierogi and extended it towards your partner, laughing at the face he made at it.

“Twój wyraz twarzy jest przeuroczy,” you mused, laughing harder at the confused face he made. “Before you ask what I said, it's not important. What is important, however, is you trying this. It's delicious and I can't have you thinking that eating squirrel meat is better than this.”

Daryl reluctantly took the dumpling, holding it gingerly between his fingers. “'Least m'familiar with squirrel meat. Know it ain't gon' taste any different each time.”

“Nie możesz zawsze jeść tylko wiewiórek,” you muttered under your breath, before shaking your head and sending Daryl an amused smile. “Daryl, stop being so stubborn. Po prostu spróbuj.”

Daryl grumbled something under his breath before looking at you again. “Nie chcę.”

“As impressed as I am that you understood me and that you managed to reply, saying something in my language won't sway me.”

Daryl shot you a small smirk. “Worth a shot,” he replied, before hesitantly taking a bite of the Pierogi.

You watched in amusement as a whirlwind of emotions played on his face. First skepticism, then surprise, and then he looked impressed. He practically devoured the rest of the dumpling in hungry bites, reaching for another one in the bowl, but you stopped him.

“Nope. I can't allow you to do that, misiu. The rest is for tonight,” you told him with a smile. “I can't disappoint Carol now, can I? She was eager about this the whole day. You only just came around about this. I'd rather give these to someone who's had faith in me from the start.”

“C'mon, tha' ain't fair,” Daryl groaned. “Merle once said tha' these things tasted like crap. Went into vivid detail 'bout how it tasted, too. Can't blame me fer not trustin' it.”

You giggled and shook your head. “You should've had more trust in me. I've been making these things since I was a kid. I'd never intentionally make you eat something bad,” you told him, before placing the lid onto the bowl and handing it to the archer. “Here, why don't you go ahead and take this to Carol? She's expecting us.”

Daryl took the bowl from you. “What about ya, robaczku? RJ and Judith are waitin' fer their auntie.”

You smiled at the nickname he had picked up from you, and motioned towards the dumplings still in the hot pan. “I'm just gonna wrap these up and put them away. I'll be right behind you.”

Daryl nodded and leaned forward to place a quick kiss to your lips. He soon pulled away and started walking away, calling to you over his shoulder. “Jus' so ya know, those are mine. Judith and RJ dun' need to know 'bout those.”

You laughed and called out to him. “So, are Pierogi's better than squirrel meat?”

Daryl paused at the doorway and contemplated on how to respond. He smirked to himself as he looked down at the bowl in his hand. “I'll let the kids decide tha', sunshine. I love ya.”

“I want an answer from you!”

The door shutting was the only response you got in return. You looked down at the pan and shook your head. There was never a dull moment with your beloved huntsman.

“Ja też cię kocham, you asshole,” you mused with a laugh.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

Translations:

Kochanie: Honey.

Twój wyraz twarzy jest przeuroczy: Your facial expression is adorable.

Nie możesz zawsze jeść tylko wiewiórek: You can't always only eat squirrels.

Po prostu spróbuj: Just try it.

Nie chcę: I don't want to.

misiu: teddy bear.

robaczku: love bug.

Ja też cię kocham: I love you too.

[froody]

Hello random person I follow, I just wanted to share in the squirrel meat trauma. I am from rural PA so it’s northern Appalachia. 1. One time my cousin ate raw squirrel meat as a kid and it was so nasty and she threw up so much she’s been a vegetarian ever since. She was five. Now she’s 34. 2. Cooked squirrel is…not great. I know you know this. I know this too. Intimately. 3. One time in high school a boy that sat by me in homeroom brought me a squirrel pelt for my birthday. He shot it that morning and just brought it to me in a big ziplock bag of salt to get the skin to dry out. He was a pretty normal guy. He’s an even more normal guy now. Sells insurance. Upper middle class. Bland as shit. What kind of hillbilly nonsense was that. 4. Now I live in a big city and am still the kind of nuts food hoarder that has a chest freezer in my apartment so I can have a shit ton of like, venison cabbage rolls and venison pierogi and frozen fresh corn and berries for pies and shit on hand because my hillbilly ass grandmothers drilled into me that you had to stock up for winter or your family might go hungry. I live alone. I’m never going hungry.

Omg. I think my grandpa made my cousin eat a squirrel heart once in line with tradition (or threatened to) but consuming raw mammal meat fills me with dread. High school home room boy was obviously trying to bring you dead animal parts to win your affection like a cat. We were a canning family, meat went in the freezer and fruit and veg got canned. And jerky. SOOO much venison jerky. I miss having a freezer full of venison but my grandpa has dementia and my uncle is in poor health so all of the hunters in my family no longer hunt. Also I’m terrified of chronic wasting disease, I know they say it isn’t transferable to humans but jfc prion diseases scare me.

People on that post are asking what squirrel tastes like and I’m like. The taste is not the major problem, the texture is. It tastes gamey and it’s stringy and dry. I’m sure it’s better in things like gumbos and other assorted stews but my grandmother only prepared it pan fried with white gravy and mash potatoes because my grandpa is a picky eater, and it was NASTYYYYYY. Walking in to find my grandma making biscuits and sausage gravy was like hitting the lottery, waking in to find my grandma making venison and gravy was okay, squirrel and gravy day was a travesty.

[dear-ao3]

me: wow i am so excited to be home this is wonderful this is lovely

my mom, making pierogis and measuring out the potatos the onions the salt the pepper and the cheese: we have to follow the recipe!

me, ripping my hair out: AAAAAAA

[eqt-95]

i am sorry it is monday i am going to be mean 🖤 supercorp

Thanks for the ask! I won't even make a big deal about you and @sssammich poking me for the same heart-wrenching prompt, but I will be using 'artistic licensing' and the skill of 'splitting hairs' to get this one across the line.

for context, this is part of an AU i've written random bits for, so you're about to be thrown right into it.

- - - - -

“Hey Kara?” Lena asked from the bar cart.

“Yes?”

“What would it be?” she continued, walking to the couch. “If you were human. What's the thing you'd want to experience?”

“Food.”

The answer comes so automatically that it almost draws Lena into a laugh. Instead she leans back into her couch, swirls the lowball of peaty scotch, and closes her eyes, imagining for the hundredth time a face that didn’t exist.

“Anything specific?”

A moment passed. The voice hummed in thought; another diversion from Lena’s code.

“Does a buffet count?”

“Some might call that cheating,” Lena smiled. “Lex would call it a loophole.”

“What do you call it?”

Lena opened her eyes; glanced at the ceiling as though Kara’s voice was coming from the stars. Instead it was just the usual speaker floating overhead.

“I think it fails to grapple with the spirit of the question.”

The room, white and bright and sterile, felt like a still-life painting with the white noise that followed. Lena wondered if she’d scared the AI off when-

“Potstickers.”

“Potstickers?” Lena parroted, unable to contain a laugh. She set her glass down to analyze the AI’s activity on her tablet.

It made some sense: every cuisine had its own form of food-wrapped dish from dumplings to pierogies to empanadas to arancini, and it was only natural for the AI to find a common link and answer based on that, but when Lena scanned the code for evidence the AI was responding to that thread, none existed. 

“What calculation brought you to that?” she asked. She continued to scowl at the cloud of connections that weren’t remotely linked.

“Because they’re pillowy morsels of goodness with a contrasting soft texture and a crunchy bottom side. The plume of steam when bitten into is just perfection,” Kara said, fading into what Lena heard as a sigh. It only made her brow furrow deeper.

She’d ask Sam tomorrow. In the mean time:

“Can we order some?”

“Pardon?”

“Potstickers.”

“I… it’s late. Maybe another time.”

“Of course, Ms. Luthor. My apologies,” Kara replied.

“It’s Lena, Kara.”

“My operating system-”

“Won’t allow it, I know,” Lena huffed. 

“Precisely.” 

Only a second passed before: “It is getting late, and your sleeping patterns have shown symptoms of insomnia. Might I suggest saving the rest of your 25 year Caol Ila for another time?”

The shift from casual to formal was instantaneous. Lena swallowed, reminded of the algorithm; of the hardwiring and artificiality of the entire experiment.

The reminder carried Lena to bed as Kara went through her evening protocol: locks, lights, and temperature adjustments. Silence followed their routine; a contrast to their last few nights. It shouldn’t have bothered Lena as much as it did. When she’d finally settled in and Kara flicked off the sidelight, Lena had fallen into a familiar state of loneliness. She determined it was irrational and rolled on her side.

“Goodnight, Kara,” she called as she always did. She waited, listening for the familiar return that never came. With a pang that felt far too similar to heartache, she closed her eyes. A beat of more silence then-

“Can I change my answer?”

It burst through the apartment and nearly sent Lena catapulting from her bed. “What?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to - oh gosh, and it’s late and I’m not supposed to-”

“No, no, that's ok,” Lena replied hastily. She pretended her heart wasn’t racing and stomach wasn’t in her throat - all things Kara was surely logging. “Just scared me a bit.”

“I can tell, Ms. Luthor.”

“Right.” She couldn’t hide it if she tried, so Lena simply rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling; 

“What would you change it to?”

“Touch.”

“Touch,” Lena parroted again, softer this time, letting the idea sink in. “Anything specific?” she asked, feeling a sense of deja vu hang over her. She half expected Kara’s answer to repeat, but instead-

“Warmth. Something living.”

“Like a dog?” Lena offered, her voice raspy and mouth far too dry.

“While that would definitely rank in the top five, I’d much rather feel the warmth of a human. A companion, as they call it.”

“I see,” Lena breathed out. “You would want to experience a partner; a boyfriend perhaps-”

“Or girlfriend,” Kara replied simply, and Lena gripped tighter at the duvet she wasn’t aware of strangling. “As something that can’t, touch feels like the most intimate of functions. A hug, a handhold, a kiss.”

“A kiss?”

“Yes, Ms. Luthor.”

“I see,” Lena replied, because anything more might have broken her chest open.

“Good night, Ms. Luthor.”

“Good night, Kara.”

Lena knew better than to crave a thing that couldn’t be. She knew better than to feel an attachment for a machine. She knew better than to dwell in the fantasy of a real Kara Z walking the streets of National City, of living a life where potstickers and hugs were her happiest experiences, or of being someone who could ever want intimacy with someone like Lena.

She knew better, yes, but that didn’t stop her from imagining as a lone tear fell in the privacy of darkness.

- - - -

ask game

[roses-red-and-pink]

Me, too tired to make a real meal, so I cook frozen pierogis or Kraft dinner: “wow look at this meal with no meat. I am following the Word of Wisdom so well :) “

[lorei-writes]

Today started off with aggressive cleaning, picking cherries (for improvised cherry pierogi), pierogi making (cheese&potatoes; cherries; pierogi with cherries are surprisingly good -- 10/10, better than with berries), more picking cherries (cherries in syrup won't make themselves) and... Right now I am drowning in a mountain of inherited fabric that I still need to sort through 😂 Overall, everything is going all right.

How is it going for you guys?

[paperback-rascal]

I literally found you and your art 3 minutes ago and I am ready to explode, it's so good and making bad batch x slavic culture crossovers? Magnificient, world-stopping, breathtaking.

I do have an idea for a piece of art if you are interested?

Clone troopers dancing belgijka and just having fun like kids during bal gimnazjalny haha or if you want something more traditional, maybe polonez? Or even clones pairing up with their jedi generals for a dance? Or even folk dance?

I am so glad I found your account!

Thank you for your kind words!

The prompts sounds interesting! Especially a bit of clones and Jedi dancing Polonaise because that would imply the Republic has a space!Studniówka (thus by extension... also a space!Matura exam)!

I can't promise you anything, but I'll have that prompt at the back of my mind and maybe one day if I have good enough idea I'll draw it.

In the meantime...

... have Wrecker and Crosshair eat pierogi!

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STAR WARS: The Clone Wars/The Bad Batch © George Lucas/ Dave Filoni/ LucasFilm/ Disney