#minced mead

[jhesite]

[gainingfiction]

King Size

I had a great time working on this project with @bee-wg​! Working with such a talented artist was a phenomenal experience. It was amazing to see this story come to life! Make sure to check out their great art and give them a follow. Hope you enjoy!

(Note: colouring may appear a little off when viewing on mobile, clicking the image should correct)

Summary: Prince Leo grows into his new role as king.

Once upon a time, in a far away kingdom, there lived a handsome prince. With loose waves of chestnut-coloured hair and a jaw like carved stone, maids and knights alike swooned at every twinkle of his blue eyes. None could deny that Prince Leopold was the fairest in all the land.

Leo’s skills as an athlete were the stuff of legend. He was as able with a sword as he was on horseback, and though he was slender and lithe, his deadly aim made him the envy of even the finest archers. On each hunt he loosed arrow after piercing arrow, returning to the castle with braces of pheasant, quail, and grouse.

After the death of Leo’s father the king, the whole realm mourned, and none grieved more than Leo himself. His carefree life as prince was at an end, and now the weight of the crown sat heavy on his head. His idle days of sparring with knights, long rides through the forest, and week-long hunts were over. The burdens of his new role were many, and he knew that hard work lay ahead of him.

With little time to spend on his favourite pastimes, Leo soon discovered a new outlet for his energies: feasting. As prince, he often dreaded his father’s banquets, wishing he could be riding or hunting instead. Soon after taking the throne, Leo realized what his father had known all along, that the business of government is easier on a full belly.

Before long, Leo feasted often and enthusiastically. His brothers returned from their frequent hunts with game and fowl, and the kitchens bustled with activity. The cooks had never been busier, preparing dish after dish for their hungry new king.

And Leo ate. Plates of venison and lamb, roasted chicken and suckling pig, mince pies and rashers of bacon, Leo devoured it all, washed down with wine, ale, and mead. He feasted from dawn until dusk. By the end of the night, he had gorged himself into a stupor, his stomach stuffed and protesting by the time he made his way to bed.

It didn’t take long before the new king began to grow plump. As he filled his stomach relentlessly, pushing himself to the edges of his capacity and then beyond, his appetite grew. The roundness his midsection acquired after bouts of gluttony began to stick, until his stomach, once flat, swelled and softened into a fleshy orb. As the months passed, he was left with a fat belly and a pair of meaty love handles. Even his face changed, and he began to grow out his beard to cover his softening jawline.

Leo’s ass and hips grew, as well. Fat began to build around his slender thighs, and his buttocks bulged and ripened, struggling against the cloth of his breeches. Leo’s servants realized the problem before their king. Each morning they dressed Leo, and his clothes seemed to grow tighter by the day. Leo could see them exchanging meaningful glances as they tried to squeeze his added bulk into undersized clothes, afraid to tell him just how hard it was becoming to fit him into his garments.

Leo eventually capitulated. He spoke to the royal tailor, who soon became almost as busy as the cooks, constantly measuring the ever-expanding monarch for new shirts and pants to contain his ballooning poundage.

And so, Leo ate, and drank, and slept, and governed, and grew. The lords and ladies of court seemed shocked at just how fast their new overlord was gaining weight, at how unable he was to control his appetite.

None dared to question the king’s love of food. His wife, the queen, seemed unimpressed, but she had done her duty and given him a pair of twin boys. The realm had its heir. Now, the king ignored her, preferring the attention of handsome servants and dashing knights. This didn’t bother the queen, preoccupied as she was with her lady-in-waiting.

His belly swelled further, growing softer and heavier. By the anniversary of his coronation, it hung out in front of him, soft and round, drooping far over the waist of his pants. He often went shirtless, leaving his fattened torso exposed beneath a fine ermine cloak. That cloak had belonged to his father; it was too large when Leo took the throne, but now it fit him comfortably, and would soon become tight.

He was fatter all over, the small muscles of his chest now hidden under hearty slabs of fat. Below his breasts, his globular belly clung to his torso, flanked at the sides by thick handfuls of fat that projected over the top of his pants. His thighs were broad and hefty, and his rump had expanded to truly king-sized proportions.

A few years into his reign, the finest artist in the realm came to court. He had painted Leo before, and he stared in shock at the bearded, fat-bellied man Leo had become. In his fine cloak and glimmering crown, wearing a good-natured smile, Leo cut an image of a powerful but generous ruler.

He hardly resembled the strapping young knight he had so recently been. The painter looked back and forth between the old Leo and the new, his recent portrait of a slender prince and the overfed monarch now posed in front of him, seeming not to believe his eyes. The poor artist pleaded with his king to stay still, but Leo refused to stop eating and drinking, stretching his pendulous stomach to an ever-greater size. The buttons of his tunic were struggling by the end of the sitting, and hours on his feet had left him exhausted and sore-legged.

Over the years of King Leo’s reign, his girth only increased. His dimpled, rosy cheeks swelled rounder and plumper, and beneath his impressive beard, his jowls sagged and his double chin expanded. His chin grew so thick that it seemed to merge into his body, replacing his neck, and his shoulders broadened with soft fat. His chest billowed out atop his colossal stomach, a rack of teats to rival the bustiest milkmaid, and his stomach exploded in size, leading the way ahead of him and hanging low in front. He was a great bear of a man, as wide as a barge, large enough to intimidate anyone who crossed his path.

On his 26th birthday, after five years as king, he realized with annoyance that he had grown too fat for the throne, unable to squeeze his rear-end between its arms. It was an uncomfortable old chair, anyway, and Leo had no time for discomfort. So he commissioned a new one, and thereafter sat his humongous behind on a throne as wide as a bench, built of heavy, gold-painted wood but still seeming to sag at the middle beneath his towering weight.

Some say that Leo was the greatest king of all. What his ancestors had settled at war, Leo handled with diplomacy: nobles were brought together at the feasting table, where petty feuds were put to rest over food and drink. They knew that food, not scheming, was the way to secure the king’s trust. Any request was usually accompanied by generous gifts, and whenever the king held court, platters streamed from the kitchens and filled the great hall. According to legend, the people flocked to Leo with offerings of food, just to marvel at his enormous belly and its seemingly limitless capacity.

Few would recognize the bearded mammoth as the slender, fresh-faced prince he once was, but all would agree that Jolly King Leopold’s steady rule had brought prosperity to the realm. His subjects lived happily ever after in peace and plenty—with none more plentiful than their king.

[simply-ivanka]

Germany Should Have Listened to Trump

Tuesday 2.27.2024 Wall Street Journal

By Walter Russell Mead

Trump was right about Berlin’s self-defense and risky energy dependence on Russia.

The lower house of Germany’s Parliament voted to legalize the recreational use of cannabis last week. It was a timely move. Germany’s leadership class is going to need all the mellow it can find in a world that isn’t going Germany’s way.

Russian advances in Ukraine and American paralysis over the next aid package are reinforcing the reality that Germany needs to defend itself but lacks the power to do so. So are developments in the Red Sea, where German manufacturers must cope with shipping delays as the Biden administration fails to keep the vital waterway clear.

Forget the 2% of gross domestic product that Germany has repeatedly promised and failed to spend on defense. Defense Minister Boris Pistorius shocked many observers this month when he said that in the new world situation, Germany may have to spend as much as 3.5% of GDP for defense.

The economic news is also grim. Last year Germany’s GDP shrank 0.3%, and last week the government slashed 2024 growth estimates to a pitiful 0.2%. Economists expect negative growth during the first quarter of 2024, placing the country in recession. The outlook for housing is bleak, with business confidence reaching all-time lows. The news in manufacturing is little better. This month the widely followed HCOB German Flash Composite Purchasing Managers’ Index fell to 46.1, the eighth month in a row that the index has pointed to decreasing economic activity.

Energy prices are a particular sore spot. The chemical giant BASF announced €1 billion in spending cuts in its German operations, blaming a mix of weak demand in the German market and “structurally higher energy prices.” Enormous U.S. subsidies under the so-called Inflation Reduction Act are leading German companies to look across the Atlantic.

Chinese competition is another massive worry. China long ago passed Germany as the world’s largest car producer. Increasingly, especially in electric vehicles, it is challenging Germany as both a low-cost and high-quality manufacturer. Beijing aims to marginalize German capital goods and automobile companies in China while Chinese exporters challenge German dominance in world markets.

With the associations representing the small and medium-size Mittelstand firms that make up the heart of the German economy warning in a rare joint open letter about Germany’s loss of competitiveness, Economy Minister Robert Habeck isn’t mincing words. The economy is in “rough waters.” The “competitiveness of Germany as an industrial location” is in doubt.

It isn’t all doom and gloom. The outlook for the service sector is brighter than for manufacturing, and as the Journal reported last week, the Ifo Institute’s business-climate index improved slightly this month. The best that can be said for the outlook? “The German economy is stabilizing at a low level,” according to Ifo’s president.

Meanwhile, Germany’s dysfunctional three-party coalition government is paralyzed by internal struggles. The largest party in the coalition, Chancellor Olaf Scholz’s Social Democratic Party (SPD), is deeply divided over foreign policy, with many nostalgic for good relations with Russia and allergic to military spending. The SPD also wants Biden-like government spending initiatives to revive the German industrial machine and expand social benefits. The Greens, the next-largest party, are by German standards foreign-policy hawks but continue to press for a rapid energy transition that drives up costs for business and consumers. The third party in the coalition, the Free Democrats, wants to hold the line on government spending. As if this weren’t enough trouble, the conservative opposition parties have a blocking minority in Parliament’s upper house.

This is not where Germans thought they would be. Sixteen months ago, I visited Berlin and heard from a stream of government officials, think tankers and economists that everything was working fine. Russia was failing in Ukraine. The energy transition would boost German competitiveness and employment. Germany’s Mittelstand would handle anything China could throw at it.

Under the circumstances, it’s no surprise that antiestablishment parties are growing in Germany. The far right Alternative for Germany (AfD) currently has more support than any of the governing parties, with one recent poll showing the AfD at 19%, the Social Democrats at 14%, the Greens at 13%, and the Free Democrats at 4%.

The most bitter pill of all for Germany’s establishment may be the realization that on the most important issues facing Germany, Donald Trump was right where they were wrong. Getting in bed with Vladimir Putin for cheap energy was both foolish and deeply disloyal to the West. German defense policy was self-defeating and dangerous. China wasn’t a reliable partner.

“Ich bin ein Berliner,” was President John F. Kennedy’s message to Germany. If Donald Trump returns to the White House, his message will likely be “Das habe ich gleich gesagt,” or “I told you so.”

[tastesoftamriel]

The Retching Netch

More than just sujamma!

Starters and light bites

Thick-cut ash yam chips, with horker bacon lardons and melted scuttle

Hot-smoked salmon, with spicy fire fern mayo and wickwheat crisps

Saltrice arancini, with chanterelles and mora tapinella

Bantam guar wings, with mead barbecue sauce and Eidar cheese dip

Mains

Jacket ash yam, with your choice of 3 toppings. Choose from: horker bacon lardons, smoked salmon, scuttle, Eidar cheese, house gravy, baked beans, corn, or minced nix-hound

Kwama egg omelette, with leeks and Nord goat cheese

Solstheim-style scathecraw stew, with chunky root vegetables

Stir-fried nix-hound, with hackle-lo in a sweet-and-sour mazte sauce

Dessert

Comberry-snowberry granita, with whipped gold kanet scuttlecream

Skyrim-style tarte tatin, with salted honey caramel

Kwama egg soufflé, with sujamma flambé

Marshmerrow and rhubarb crumble, with Skyrim honey custard

[cloudyswritings]

Traditional foods of Hallownest

So I just made Christmas cookies I can’t eat yet and my hunger is infinite. Hence this mess.

Boofly steaks: These are pretty much what they sound like, I feel like Booflies were essentially the cows of Hallownest. The quality of a Boofly steak is determined with how fatty it is, fattier cuts display very nice marbling. These are actually more savory in flavor than regular steaks and have a slightly more gelatinous/softer texture. Generally Boofly steaks will be served with lake-pearls(a macro algae native to the blue lake that has a salty and slightly sour flavor.

Aspid stew: this is a stew that’s made from the bottom half of and aspid(primal aspids have a much different flavor and are far less popular). Recipe is as follows

Carve up your aspid, start by removing the upper thorax and cleaning the intestines of any waste. Let the aspid drain some of its hemolyph and other juices into a jar.

Drain the acid from the aspids lower thorax, take care to entirely remove the acid glands. Store the acid in a chilled glass or ceramic jar for later.

finely mince some bitter root(a root native to the crossroads that tastes very sweet when boiled), and grind up some hyacinth flower petals, roughly a cupful of each will do.

Cut 2-3 tik-tik into fine strips(crawlids are an acceptable but inferior alternative) and lightly dust it with salt and soak in the juices from the aspid for about 35 minutes

Take the bottom half of the aspid and lightly bread the insides, once a small layer of breading is present pour in some water along with your bitter root and petals. Set this over a heat source for roughly an hour to ensure the bitterroot is thoroughly boiled.

Lightly sear the tik-tik meat and aspid meat before adding it to the stew, wait 20 minutes for it to cook.

Now that we’ve assembled most of our dish the most important part is up next. Because we chilled the aspid acid it should have taken on a gelatinous texture, mix this into any remaining aspid hemolyph and pour it into our stew. This should add a nice sharpness to the dish

Stir until the consistency is somewhere around that of a scrambled maskfly egg.

A traditional breakfast:

Scrambled maskfly eggs(they end up being close to an uncooked egg yolk in consistency) they’re generally something that is slurped up like a drink

Gruzzer bacon: this kinda tends to come in thicker slices than our bacon, it’s great when paired with a light drizzle of diluted aspid acid. Very very fatty, heavy umami flavor witha bite of saltiness.

Mashed crawlid balls: these are mashed up and thoroughly cooked crawlid meat mixed with assorted spices from greenpath and generally have a hollow center so juices from the meat can collect.

A cup of Gruzzer mead: Basically just a mix of gruzzer hemolymph and the pressed juices of a gulka. It has a very refreshing bite to it and a consistency like eggnog.

A rare delicacy: Aluba caviar, generally this is served in the shell of a shadow crawler(throughly cured and seasoned, generally for several months to ensure there’s no residual void) with a side of bioluminescent mushrooms exported from deepnest. This is generally a meal only reserved for the upper castes.

Finally: Rancid eggs can be cured and fermented into a cultural delicacy much like that one Icelandic shark dish. Suffice to say most bugs find this disgusting. The Pale king however thoroughly enjoy it, though this not public knowledge. It’s kinda his guilt pleasure along with chocolate (which is fatal or otherwise detrimental to nearly all other insects hence him being the only one eating it).

I’m definitely gonna do a part two for this once I write up some other recipes. Hopefully ones I put more thought into.

[hikinglikeaviking]

The Kings feast

As free women of the city, we were invited, and partook in the grand ting this fall. And as custom, the king held a big feast(gille) afterwards for everyone in attendance.

With sausage, minced meat, fried pork, herbal sauces, risen sourdough bread, butter, seasoned flatbread and a stew with this year's harvest of root vegetables and onions.

With plenty of ale to go around, mead, even for the lower tables, and wine for the tables closest to the king's.

A night to remember, and one we will sing about for many years to come. Mini!

[peamaps]

Imagine how cute it is Snape skulking at parties, the grumpy introvert:

"Ah, Sybill, we all think our subject's most important!" said a loud voice, and Slughorn appeared at Professor Trelawney's other side, his face very red, his velvet hat a little askew, a glass of mead in one hand and an enormous mince pie in the other. "But I don't think I've ever known such a natural at Potions!" said Slughorn, regarding Harry with a fond, if bloodshot, eye. "Instinctive, you know--like his mother! I've only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell you that, Sybill--why even Severus --"

And to Harry's horror, Slughorn threw out an arm and seemed to scoop Snape out of thin air toward them.

"Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!" hiccuped Slughorn happily. "I was just talking about Harry's exceptional potion-making! Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught him for five years!"

Trapped, with Slughorn's arm around his shoulders, Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry, his black eyes narrowed.

"Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all. "

THBP

[mirach]

The Hobbit as a full 12-course meal

Hors-d'oeuvres

Seed cake, buttered scones, apple tart and raspberry jam, mince-pie, pork-pie, cheese, salad, eggs and cold chicken with pickles, served with a choice of beverages: tea, beer, ale, porter, coffee or red wine.

Enjoy this very unexpected selection as a free buffet and a promise of a great culinary adventure!

Amuse-bouche

Roast mutton eaten with bare hands, served with an alcoholic drink of dubious origin.

In a shocking contrast to the customs of fine dining, this dish lets you shed the decorum and possibly makes you question your decision to participate in this meal. Do not let the doubts turn you back!

Soup

Homey creamy vegetable soup with freshly baked bannocks.

Let this dish remind you on warm hospitality as you submerge yourself into a valley of taste. 

Appetizer

Crack cake with whipped cream.

Down down the gullet!

Salad

Caesar salad* served with pomegranate juice.

A salad named after an assassinated leader is the ideal dish for this course.

*Does not contain horse or pony meat

Fish

Raw fish served with cold spring water.

The epithome of freshness, caught especially for you in a pristine underground lake. For a hightened culinary experience, ask out waiter about the option of eating this course in complete darkness, allowing you to focus on the taste.

First main dish

Baked birds roasted over open fire with a side of cream and honey, served with mead.

A batch of fifteen birds serves the whole table. Let your taste buds soar above the smokey aroma and land in the sweet aftertaste of cream and honey from our best supplier (bio quality guaranteed).

Palate cleanser course

A fast followed by a selection from the aroma of wine, apples, or butter.

It is important to let yourself rest between the dishes. Be patient! We won't arrest you, of course, but it would be a shame to leave now. The sense of smell has an important place in fine dining, too, so let the selected aroma carry you into the next dish.

Second main dish

Flambéed lake shrimp with skewered dragonfruit and 24k gold flakes.

This dramatic dish hits just the right spot!

Cheese plate

A selection of five cheeses.

The carefully selected cheeses form two opposing taste groups on the plate, a true battle of taste with the dinner guest as a winner!

Dessert

Beorning Yule honey cake served with hot mead.

This sweet cake baked according to a signature traditional receipt evokes the atmosphere of a wintery evening spent in front of a fireplace.

Post-meal drinks and pastries

Tea and cookies, with the option of smoking our best selection of pipe-weed.

A deserved moment of rest after the grand culinary adventure.

(Written for the event organized by @spring-into-arda )

[umbracirrus]

Do you think that mince pies (aka those sweet pies filled with fruit such as currants/apples which have been soaked in alcohol/juice/etc. and has the most godawful texture when eating) are a thing in tamrielic culture? I've just been thinking about it because I keep seeing mince pies in shops and think it'd definitely be a thing in areas like Skyrim. With like snowberries and stuff in. Maybe using some mead.

[jester-japery]

Hi there, jester expert here!

The first thing to note is that, as jesters are an antique breed that has not changed much genetically in many hundreds of years, they have unique dietary requirements. Jesters are not adapted to digest processed sugar in the way that more modern breeds are, so you'll want to stick to traditional confectionery such as mince pies, sweetmeats, candied fruits and the like. It is very important to be aware of this as processed sugar can make jesters quite sick if they consume too much of it.

In an ideal situation, a jester would have a room decorated like a banquet hall or medieval court as an indoor play area and the outdoor play area should be reminiscent of a medieval or renaissance faire. However, it's understandable that this isn't achievable for everyone, and if this isn't possible for you, consider the following as enrichment:

Regularly inviting friends over for dinner parties which your jester can entertain for

Providing plenty of medieval type costumes for your jester to play with, or even providing clothes that are similar to yours (imitation is one of jesters' favourite forms of play)

Providing medieval style instruments such as a lute (if you can't get a lute a ukulele will do in a pinch)

Mead or ale. In moderation these can help your jester feel more comfortable and, as jesters were traditionally given these older alcoholic beverages when their performances were pleasing or impressive, it may help your jester feel accepted into the family.

And please remember, if your jester sometimes seems unnecessarily rude to you or overly critical, he's just exercising jester's privilege, a natural instinct that shouldn't be taken personally.

I guess I have a jester now???

Lollie-pop, my party/scare mix has a little boyfriend!

A little purple and yellow jester has been hanging out around my clown's outside play area for months now. He has finally decided to come in and he is not leaving. Not that I want him to. He is an adorable little sweetheart! And Lollie-pop is so cuddly in a way I've never seen her with anyone before.

So... any tips on raising a jester?? Anything is appreciated!!

[keouil]

some things never leave a person

“how does it feel knowing you got captain america wrapped around your finger?” rated t. 2k+. steve/nat. also on ao3 / twitter / cc

“You’re staring.”

Steve snapped his eyes back up, nearly giving himself whiplash. He sat up straighter. “No," he insists. "No, I’m not.”

Sam gave him a knowing look. The tips of his mouth curled upwards, an amused glint in his eye.

“Look, man,” he began casually, running his fingers over the rim of his beer. “I get it. Recovery ain’t easy and it’s a big new world you woke up to. If I was in your place, I’d probably take all my chances, too.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve drawled unsurely, taking a sip of his drink and regarding him. Asgardian mead pleasantly made its way down his body, warming him up to more liquid courage. “What do you mean by recovery?”

Sam opens his mouth to elaborate, when a loud clang from somewhere behind them interrupts their conversation. 

They look back and see Darcy with a mournful look on her face, holding on to the flute of an otherwise shattered champagne glass littered on the floor.

“I can, like, totally pay for that,” she mumbles sheepishly into the crowd. 

Pepper is by her side the next second, already picking up fragments of glass and disposing of it just as quickly. Tony just laughs it off, and just like that, the party continues. 

The overhead skylights from the makeshift bar he assembled in the Avengers Tower glistened under the wide sky. Pop music wafted all over the bustling partly, filled to the brim with a generous number of people enjoying themselves. Thor with his hand clasped on Jane’s waist, whispering something that made her laugh; Hill and Rhody on an animated conversation by the end of the bar. All of them, in a rare moment, loose. 

Steve locked eyes with Natasha from the corner of the room. 

His grin, then, comes just as embarrassingly easy. He waves. She gives him a small smile before turning her attention back to Barton. Steve frowns.

“Jesus,” he hears Sam hiss. “You got it bad, Cap.”

.

.

.

It’s not a gradual thing. 

Steve isn’t someone who minces his words or plays diplomatic charmer. His vitality burned, in a way foreign to a world that had long been too jaded of proper men and archaic chivalry. 

Captain America, back from the dead, yes: but also, and it was growing easier and easier to see, he himself ushered in a resurgence of basic morality stripped from ages of misuse and abuse. It was a basic thing, human decency, and he had simply reminded the world of exactly how easy it could be.

Steve came to carthage burning, but he flamed the embers of fire without ever having to wield a weapon. It was his nature to simply walk in the line of fire. And Natasha knows, if she is ever as sure of anything, that: he would no sooner rot in hell than let someone else walk over the flames for him, he had to be made to.

“Steve,” warns Natasha, a steady hand clamped over his shoulder against the fracturing landscape all around them. “Let me handle this.”

It was then he would turn to her, sometimes, and it scares her: the naked vulnerability he displays, the unyielding confidence in his frame, the complete and utter surrender of control. It is a ghastly little thing, the weight of his unburdening, but it only ever dawns on her when the ringing in her ears have stopped and the guns have mellowed: “Okay,” he nods once. “I trust you.”

.

.

.

Natasha should have seen it coming sooner.

It’s not that Steve hangs on her every word, is on her beck and call, or does whatever she tells him to do at the drop of a hat. He doesn’t tail after her like a lost puppy, because for all intents and purposes they were evenly matched at almost every pace; he was the commanding officer, she the shadow leader.

But maybe what tears at her conscience is that it also goes like this: hey nat,  he would say, thanks for having my back out there, or been awhile since i drank with someone, or i’m here if you need to talk too you know? or, and perhaps most damning, is: how about a friend?

Steve was acclimating slowly to the surface, in a way that he knows best and works for him. It is an intimate baring of his soul, and the stripping of her own to make sure it doesn’t totally push him over the edge just before he learns to plant himself on the ground again. It’s easy, then, to play a part: if only he didn’t blindside her with improvising the script every so often it leaves her breaking character more often than she likes.

Because Steve was not of the divine kind, the one measured up to the greatness of gods. He had such grounded faith; and Natasha, for all she deemed herself worthy, had already started carving herself a place six feet under. 

.

.

.

“It’s a transference thing,” Sam tells her one day in a low voice, when they’re waiting for transport and Steve is somewhere behind going over the mission details again with Fury. “But he means well. If it’s any help, this is actually an important breakthrough in the recovery process.”

Natasha feels herself ruminating over his words, because Sam would know about it best, working at the VA and all. He would probably know, too, then: “But,” she falters, her entire body in knots. “Why me?”

Sam doesn’t take a beat to answer. “Why not you?”

.

.

.

Steve loves so nakedly, both unforgivingly kind and passionately earnest: it is like fresh mildew unfurling from earth, dusk creeping at dawn; a silent but steady little thing. It is comforting, the rhythm of his heart: but oh, does it burden.

.

.

.

“How does it feel knowing you got Captain America wrapped around your finger?”

Natasha staggers a little, stopping the momentum of the sandbag just before it hits her square in the face. Her eyes flitter over the ring, making sure Steve was still busy testing the limits of Sam’s misery by boxing, before turning back to glare at Clint on the other side of the bag. So much for a sparring partner.  “What?”

“Come on, Nat,” Clint returns, sounding a little too cocky for her taste. He pushes the sandbag to her side a little. “He’s like a dog with a bone around you. It’s cute, really, if not a little stalker-ish.”

“That’s not—he’s—” Natasha stammers, trying to reign it in and getting her breathing under control. “Steve is just adjusting. Fury assigned me to make sure he does that as smoothly as he can.”

“Right, of course,” Clint doesn’t drop the knowing look on his face, but the edges of his eyes soften a little. He ignores the way Steve glances at their direction none too subtly, a worried frown on his face. “It’s scary, isn’t it?”

That sobers her up instantly. 

Natasha nurses her features into steeled determination, squaring her shoulders and tightening her jaw: but just as telling, however, is the slight crack in her voice when she says: “I’m fucking terrified.”

[mantra4ia]

Things I liked (and loathed): "The Witcher" Season 2

Spoilers ahead, carry on with caution...

I enjoyed:

Jaskier's singing. And the barmaid's quip about how she'd rather swap places with her deaf cousin than listen to "Burn, Butcher, burn."

Jaskier and Yennefer as frenemies, because it's dead accurate

Yennefer burning Rience with his arrogance and cheap spirits, while being Jaskier's beard. It improvised from the source material where Yennefer *cough* still had her magic, but it was very satisfying.

The return of Yarpen Zigrin, and the battling dwarven company

Geralt and Vesemir fighting monsters in tandem

Ciri's banter with her witcher bros

The veiled book reference to Yennefer's taxidermy unicorn and how it broke (fyi, it's not meant for seat two very energetic people)

Goodness, I am so glad we finally got to meet Mother Nenneke, although she ought to have given Geralt the business far more than she did. She's a formidable voice of reason, and she doesn't mince words. I submit a book quote in which she says to Jaskier "Stop talking bullshit and don't call me mother. The very idea that you could be my son fills me with horror."

Rience...I mean that he's still an ****hole, true to form from the source, not that I like him.

Yay for botany and potions.

Yennefer telling Ciri that when you have inner power, you shouldn't apologize for it/ mirrored by Fringella's revenge triggered when the council and her uncle Artorius ask her to apologize for not knowing her place.

The pendulum, Ciri's training, and Triss tearing into the witchers about their treatment of Ciri.

The flashback of Mousesack and Calanthe. But where's Eist?

The final reveal, though I worry about the series getting ahead of itself.

What I didn't like:

Absolutely everything else, with varying degrees of severity from this is annoying -> "Djinn: I'd like very much to punch someone on the creative team in the face."

The title graphics and score for starters... did someone get too drunk on mead to finish them?

There's So. Much. Screaming. Please get everyone a lozenge for this painful redundancy.

The fact that Yarpen doesn't get to have dialogue with Ciri, for shame.

They did Eskel dirty.

Source Yennefer: there's nothing more pathetic than a mage in tears. Netflix Yen: Tears and screams abound.

Rience turned into Pyro from X2, except considerably more annoying than Pyro because I like Aaron Stanford.

They were consistent with the gratuitous amounts of nudity, but now it doesn't seem so much like serving character aesthetics and proclivities and more like "gotta keep up with season one."

The costuming and character details are noticably less impressive than S1 and far more comical. For example, why are all the women who are portrayed as pregnant super pregnant? Did they all share one prop bump?

Also, Ciri emerging from fully submersed in the bath with full makeup still on is laughable.

Babies who look like their hair was frizzed in a socket right before they applied elven ears, also laughable.

Speaking of makeup and incongruous scenarios, why does Yennefer look cleaned up with straightened hair (her hair is naturally wavy and tumultuous) after being a prisoner of war and before the scene in which she bathes? Then she remains wet looking as she strolls around in her bathing robe/busty dress casually walking through halls and prison cells, and then she's wearing a proper traveling cloak, only to change for whatever reason into a shrug of some sort to an outdoor execution whilst everyone else is in full overcoat and full length dress. It's strange character choice where continuity and costuming are concerned.

They call Yennefer blind more than once (Fringilla, Cahir, maybe others) in the show, which is aggravating. As if to say "we scrolled the original material where she loses her sight and becomes weary of the dark but decided to go in a different direction. Bye."

Okay, allow me to elaborate more on the above point of contention. I enjoy hearing source references in the series, "magic like a barbed arrow" "I owe him what he owes me, nothing more, nothing less" "what is between you / Longing, regret, hope, and fear." Etc. What I hate is when these things get inserted for service, but without the respect for context, using it in a manner contrary to itself. For example, when Yarpen asks "The girl, yours?" And Geralt says "Mine," it's a source scene but it's used to set up trouble between Yen and Geralt. When Yen says "I know I've hurt you...but I wish for it to begin again" it's from a Beltane scene where they mutually talk about love, except in the tv series contorts it so that Geralt says, "I don't forgive you." Due to Yen's betrayal which comes from a black door scene that was a originally a flippin' dream sequence in the novels that never comes to pass. Rags.

They dangle a teaser about Falka (and fire, and burning, and burning down the world) through the creeper known as Stregobor — Falka should have taken more than his hands — and then do nothing to develop it, and then bait and switch to tease the Wild Hunt that apparently baba yaga is a part of. Your red herring references are tedious.

Seriously, was it some sort of running joke to tally how many rodents we could i-spy in each episode? And Ciri hasn't even joined up with the Rats yet...or is there a gameplay reference I don't know about? We've gone from one rat kabob in season 1 to at least a dozen live cameos.

They had such good source material about Lara Dorren and Ithlinne's prophecy, how'd they muck about with that so much?

They had such good source material about the memorial obelisk at Sodden Hill and the names of the fourteen and Geralt's grief over Yen as he meets a vision death — the second edge of destiny that dogs his steps — in the guise of a woman, in the mist on Sodden Hill and asks for her to take him by the hand, only to discover that Yen's name isn't among the dead mages, it's Yoel Grethen. How, in the first five minutes of the season, did they parse that down to four lines of dialogue between Tissaia and Geralt (was it for expediency? I don't understand, you could prioritize so many other cuts over something this crucial) so that it felt like nothing? I felt more sorrow over Roach when Geralt says "enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist. Be not afraid of her, for she is your friend." I'm glad they kept a sincere emotional beat somewhere amongst the screaming in the show...but that was intended to be sorrow for Yen.

And then they go and use the obelisk memorial as a means to ceremonialize some weird congregation of kings (which, considering you're still fighting a war of northern kingdoms vs southern Nilfgaard, is logistically stupid f***ery) for a beheading demonstration that doesn't happen, all so that Yennefer can save herself? We knew that she could do that already, but thanks for taking her magic away as a means to try and sow some BS grain of doubt. (<_<)

And Geralt's reunion with Yen... that's all the dialogue and stage direction we get? Is this even real?

Listen, at the risk of sounding petty and picky, I know Netflix The Witcher is an adaptation from the books and games (admittedly I'm familiar with the former and only barely acquainted with the latter), which means they don't have to stick to either and can make **** up so long as the creative team can suspend disbelief for the audience. I don't give a mouse turd about that. BUT follow the continuity of the world building you created, whether it's story or visuals, whatever. From the little things: don't change Ciri's eyebrows from blond to brown, don't change Triss' hair from brown to auburn even if it's from the novels and gameplay. To the big things: they made Cintra look unchanged, I quote, "how could it look the same," and habitable to a surge of incoming elves, just a few months after it was sacked in nearly burned to the ground? Ex) based on the animated timeline, Kaer Mohren was sacked a hundred years ago and in all the winters the witchers never patched it up to look the same, they lived around it. Back to Cintra, more to the point, why would they want to make it look the same? Surely Nilfgaard would want to have their influence, or the influx of elves would want to restore it to it's Xintrean roots and erase any human revisions. You make a stylistic or storytelling decision, stick with it unless you work the change in logically to serve a purpose.

Also, I know the pandemic interfered with production in all sorts of ways. So visually I expect and accept comprises in production value. What's not easily acceptable — and which I keenly felt— is a compromise in conceptual quality, in dialogue, in episodic plot layering, in the weaving of storylines towards a goal/throughline, etc. Even in a pandemic, a compelling story can be told with two characters, intent filled dialogue, and a camera. I didn't feel nearly as compelled as season 1.

So Netflix cast everyone, and tried to juggle 10 character arcs with variable rates of success —even Lydia, who is originally introduced as mute and gets her backstory laid out before us— except you couldn't show Phillipa Eilhart until episode 8 (what was the purpose of such a late reveal?) and therefore Dijkstra and Dara have to talk to an owl the whole time? Psssht.

They had such good source material about Istredd and Geralt from "A Shard of Ice" and then just used Istredd as a means of convenience to reveal that Yen's alive. Wot? Jaskier could, and in my opinion should, have been the best character for that. I grant them this: they're trying to use Istredd far more than he actually appears, which is good because I think he's a compelling character... if I felt like they knew what they were doing with him.

For f***'s sake, why would they take Yen's power away from her after all that build up last season: "forget the bottle, let your chaos explode" only to mess around and say "oh, that chaos wasn't really yours when you sacrificed to save the continent. You spent more than you drew from your source, now face the consequences in order to serve the plot to sacrifice for Ciri too" so you can prove your love in the time smash of an episode. Yennefer deserves better.

Idc about this deathless mother "forest hut" baba yaga (who apparently joins the wild hunt) nonsense. Geralt telling Jaskier: "I may just have to kill [Yennefer]." Big BS. There's a part in the books where Geralt questions Yen's allegiance, believing they were betrayed all while she's captive and tortured, but this manifestation is horse****. Source: Yen loves Ciri like a daughter, and Geralt entrusts Ciri to her care for safety and training with no animus between them except in a letter when he calls her "dear friend" and she roasts him for it. He tells Yen he loves her for goodness sake, which is more than the show dared. The adaptation ignores this, completely going against it in fact when he puts sword to throat and later says, "I don't forgive you." It's not an artistic interpretation when there's an absolute perversion of her character's feelings towards Ciri and Geralt! And to top it off she doggedly follows Geralt trying to fruitlessly explain, practically groveling. Ridiculous. I'm glad they still referenced the theme of "something more" but the means they used toward that end contorted it's meaning so much it's IN. FREAKIN.' RUIN. Like Kaer Mohren.

Idc about Francesca Findabair and her pure blood elf baby, or her needless revenge, or her friendship with Fringilla.

So, you can make time to tell a monologue in detail about the events of season one to loop in the audience who hasn't seen it (in my opinion: why, it's only 8 episodes, tell them to put in the hours or watch the 6 min recap, don't putt about spending a limited amount of new episode time on something that doesn't move things forward) but you can't connect the dots or show how you captured Cahir? Or what motivated Vilgefortz to go on a killing spree in last season's cliffhanger, for those unaware of book!Vilgefortz, being shady AF. We don't revisit fully formed shadiness till 2x07, again with ubiquitous screaming. I'm very confused on your storytelling priorities right now. Again, I don't give a mouse turd if you go off book, but make your additions of the same mettle as the stories that you used from the source materials.

The fact that all these trained witchers, who have amulets that hum in the presence of magic, don't sleep with them on and keep one eye open with magic buzzing about them in the form of a possessed Ciri is maddness. They just get slaughtered in the night because it serves the story's dramatic effect. Very GoT-final-season-BS.

The velociraptor-looking basilisk creatures in Kaer Mohren, that whole final battle really felt very anticlimactic. I mean seriously: dinos?

Season 1 could, for better or worse, stand on it's own, and every episode served a distinct purpose that could be woven together by the end. Season 2 cannot, and I feel has pacing issues were some episodes are trying to tackle too much and should be split, while others have more filler than I care for.

WTF happened? I need Jaskier to write a few fix-it ballads please.

[libidomechanica]

To mince

The lineaments passage of  self-love, and men, and the  captain, knightst have love-freaks the winds,  the red rocks all the town, I 

read their seasons, and breakers, that  all, loves jealousy, revenge: A Ballad  of Oriana the Christian 

landscape the enormous  gate  sound low, the lofty mountain free; shakes  her heart or in Spain, I almost  lilies the twilightst him up, it  costs us! Beside  the dove from friends, on  mead and wealth and coming of  the happy morning, and the  flies the grace, and that long,  long ages upon all about there; 

meantime (yon old pass my evening in higher  pleased at the garden and wood  and we wept, and for Pyramus,  the sun peels from spot of  something into the  lines Comes and purgatorial crew! are  oil and of you when rose 

with all its salutes their materials:  she had babbled meekly from  theirs—God blessing, till gardens, walls so cost  a quarterd stalks the brows) that 

not a moments ease, that are not  a steady stands are still be storm  and deeds, and a my days, was  shows that use: the never  at least and go. like hope for 

sometimes (he known; human naked  trees; Am to me From  pearl. he fell will he refusal,  recollect you so that 

understands the floor to say,  is that ever might back to  cope for what a shadow sits  apart, he took the snow, nor thought of  eternal streamless: but whom  the other that loved to 

ask him whence I was born,  a bitterness—stood that day, ye  wadna been many a bright of 

the lash to touch! I cant 

dare a comfortable to change,  and knowledge that change! D throne. 

O Sorrow, cruel fire, and 

ride, and whites and then, you yourself  shant carry me.) Their  numbers, thoughts can be besprent a  hair had a thousand thoughts they climb.  For the years logs into  the very tree, mocks  your body and needs and though ye 

be, yet, evn tho left barren 

bush flits across th Atlantic  broad-should not shun the personage  of purchasing of thine, the 

human being much embarkd of 

late espouse, and the moulderd  with you. And heard, as  with child win must be driven, 

and four spoil, and then grow deeper eye.

[tastesoftamriel]

Hello, Talviel! What are funeral traditions of various races? More precisely, what food traditions do families in mourning have? (for example, where i live, people give little bags with sweets to everyone, strangers and relatives, and have a big feast of food with no eggs or dairy on the day of funeral, and then 40th day and one year, and i was wondering what would different tamrielic traditions be)

Funerary food isn't something I've put huge amounts of thought into, as thankfully I haven't attended many funerals. However, I did a bit of digging and asking around, and managed to put together a list for you.

Altmer

The High Elves, right to the grave, find the need to be grandiose, yet dignified. Funeral wakes are an important social gathering, and no expenses are spared by family or friends when it comes to feasting. Everything from roast duck pancakes to almond-stuffed heron breast and vegetable tartines are on offer (as well as a lot of wine), and the more extravagant the feast, the more loved an Altmer was.

Argonians

Funerals are taken very seriously in Argonian customs, and it is traditional, especially for prominent community members, for members of a tribe to band together and make a large, fermented fruit and honey cake that symbolises the life of an individual. The cake is shared amongst funeral guests, but a large chunk is also left as an offering by the grave stake.

Bosmer

The Bosmer tend to save their precious rotmeth for special occasions, funerals included. A special dish of ground bone meal, minced meat, butter, and marrow is commonly eaten at the wake, and washed down with rotmeth as it's quite a dry dish. And no, I'm not going to be elaborating on eating the dead.

Bretons

Casserole dishes are the most common sight at funerals in High Rock, because they're easy to make and feed plenty of people. Macaroni bakes with chicken, tuna, spinach, or cheese are the most common, as well as dishes like fish pie, meatloaf, and scalloped potatoes. It's all hearty, homey food that will temporarily help you forget your sorrows.

Dunmer

House Dunmer funerary practices have thus far been closed to me as an outlander, so I can only speak of one Ashlander funeral I attended. Traditionally, baked ash yams are offered to the dead by each funeral guest, which are then mashed together with a paste of comberry, saltrice, canis root, and gold kanet. The mashed yam is served hot with a rich bone broth, and is eaten together in silence.

Imperials

The Cyrodiilic tradition for those who worship the Nine is generally a full spread of food with as many comforting small dishes as possible. Usually, friends and family will bring a dish each, leading to proper feasts if the deceased was popular. While there is no specific taboo on what foods can or cannot be eaten, strong flavours are uncommon and sometimes even frowned upon. Things you can expect to find are slaughterfish cakes, dill salad, grilled haloumi, and eggplant bake.

Khajiit

Moon sugar sweetens an otherwise painful affair when death is concerned in Elsweyr, and flavours are used to convey the unique characteristics of every Khajiit's life. Normally, a dish for every emotion is served: steamed bittergourd to represent bitterness, chilis to represent passion, and sour to represent surprise. Moon sugar, used ritually, reflects the Sands Behind the Stars. Loved ones carefully curate a flavour map of every life, making sure that their memory lingers on in every bite of moon sugar ever after.

Nords

In Skyrim, everyone wants to go to Sovngarde one day. When someone dies, we customarily eat what myths tell us of the food in Sovngarde (which I've seen with my own eyes and can personally attest to). Barrels of ale and mead are there to drown your sorrow, and there is an abundance of roasted meats, bread, entire cheese wheels, desserts, and much more. Different Holds also have different traditions; for example, Haafingar funerals always feature cinnamon donuts.

Orcs

Nobody puts the fun in funeral like the Orcs, which can sometimes be shocking to outsiders. Feasts are standard in clan strongholds, but feature a staple number of dishes. Fried polenta with glacier tomatoes, spit-roasted mammoth, game stew, cheese pasties, and all the bread you can eat are usually present, as well as any dishes favoured by the deceased. I once heard of a chieftain's son who loved taffy treats so much that he had an entire hill of them in the centre of the courtyard for his funeral.

Redguards

Funerals are a sombre affair for the Redguards, so food is not of huge importance. Usually, small snacks and canapés will be on offer, as well as wine and cold water. Like the Imperials, the normally flavourful local tastes are toned down out of respect for the dead. Mint yoghurt with pulled lamb on flatbread, falafel, and baked eggplant are some of the things you can expect.

[mercysought]

@immobiliter​​ . ❝ I’ll give them all the unsung anti-hero they deserve. ❞ varric for loane!. . Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier, ACT II . not accepting

   “Or you can sit down and have a drink.” the mug lands loudly against the wooden table, pushed into the other dwarf with the back of her hand, the casteless brand disappearing against the smooth wooden object “You’re trying to sound tough” brows knit together in an almost mocking expression, not cynical enough to be considered hurtful. Loane didn’t mince her words, after years of knowing each other, if he was expecting her to pull any punches then Varric wasn’t as sharp as she had first expected.

She knew that was definitely not the case. For a split second, while biting her lip with mischief curling the edge of her lips, she wanted to interrupt herself just to be able to see him complain just at the insinuation “and it is almost hilarious because I know you don’t have a single bad bone in your body, Varric.” one short leg is thrown over the wooden bench. The warden throws her weight carelessly, allowing herself for the moment to be loud and uncaring about who sees and knows that she is there. One of the few things that she didn’t miss about the wilds: the fact that she had to be silent almost all the time.

   “Also unsung anti-hero they deserve sounds pretty close to martyr” the mug filled with warm mead is turned slowly, hand hanging like a claw with the tip of her fingers holding onto the old and chipped cup. Loane brings it up to her lips, taking a healthy swig “and you aren’t the martyr type, either.”

[cynicalrainbows]

Christmas (well Boxing Day) headcanon:

The queens are all SO excited for their first Christmas in their new lives....until they find out just how many of the old traditions have died out.

‘They call this a mince pie? There’s not even any meat in it- and why is it so small?’

‘I went to SO many butchers and just NOWHERE had boar- I mean, I wasn’t expecting a whole head but STILL!’

‘Christmas is three days? WHAT ABOUT TWELFTH NIGHT?’

‘-and then the bastard tried to tell me it was a fire hazard to keep a Yule Log burning!’

‘I waited all night and not a single mummer showed up! I had actually set aside money for them to ‘win’ off me and everything’ 

‘Everyone is so BORING at Christmas- no one is even bothering to wear masks or anything!’

‘No one goes to Childermass! No one!’

‘I asked who they had chosen as Lord of Misrule and they just stared at me!’

The only thing that has really stayed the same is the fact that at Christmas, you can drink as much as you like. Even if they all agree that modern liqueurs are a poor substitute for mead.