#parsnips pages

[megamewtwos]

Voltaic Will

just barely missing being called a drabble! Also on AO3 here. an OC of mine that I've barely spoken about here yet, Binx is left to wander the city as his father works. Following his feet into a situation he couldn't have imagined. Written in first person! Word Count: 1009 Characters: Binx (OC), Volkner, Flint Info: Binx is a fan-kid for Volkner! In my main setting I write Volkner being in his mid-late 40's when platinum happens. My timeline charts are too detailed. If I continue these you'll get the chance to meet his brother as well. This takes place well before Platinum.

It was all on a whim really.

Waiting for dad to get out of work so he could come home with the next insane thing he came up with to build from the ever growing piles of scrap in the workshop. Eating instant food out of the same beige scratched up bowls he bought when I was 5. Was still sick back then, fell asleep to the cranking of a wrench or clicking of the welder. 

Same yesterday as the day before, waiting and wandering around town aimlessly with my Shinx at my heels. Carrying the big idiot every time he tried to pick a fight with the local streetlife. Buying snacks with pocket money won from the kids around town. Always thought they would get better, maybe even beat me someday. They never did. 

My feet took me out of town, the sun beating down on my back to leave another sunburn the old man would get on me about. I never could remember the sunscreen no matter how often it happened. Said I'd get skin cancer or something someday from it, the worst I got so far was a mess of freckles. 

The whim though, that's where my mind wandered two hours out from town. The Idea that drove me out of town. That lake that everyone told me was special. Some kind of guardian that gave us the will to keep going. Keeps us moving forward.

It sounded nice, and I couldn't remember why I was doing much of anything anymore. Something that sat in my bones and filled my head with dreams left me behind. Kept moving forward, forget that it had a job to do. Maybe whatever was in that lake had it. Gave it to someone better, more deserving of it. 

The lake wasn't too far then. I could see the forest surrounding it leaking between the corners of the hills. Desperate to spread beyond its limits despite being chopped back over and over again. Could the trees feel that itch? That haze of static over your skin as you got closer to the water? By the time I broke the treeline and saw the lake I was sprinting. Air heavy in my lungs as I fell to my knees.

My reflection stared back at me, foggy sunglasses surrounded by a ruddy face smattered with freckles. Hair sticking to the sweat on my forehead as it ran in rivers to my chin. Shirt damp and limply clinging to my skin as I dropped my jacket on the grass.

The sky was red, sunset looming heavy over the water full of threats of dark woods and stern words from dad. He should be home soon. Work always let him out just before dusk, long enough light left to stop at the corner store and drag home something sweet for me. Always looked forward to doughnut days. Rare treats they were though, dad said they were expensive. 

My attention snapped back to the lake again, a fine mist crawling over the water and rising like a tide over the rocky island sitting center stage in the waves. 

That fizzle ran over my skin again, humming under the surface like jet fuel waiting for its spark. I rose to my feet. 

My hand met the water before I realized I was running. 

The ground giving way under my feet, the surface tension not being able to hold the weight of a 12 year old boy with fire in his blood.

The water was cool. Cold even. Whatever spark it was kept that realization heavy in the back of my head as I swam to that island. I'd never swam so far in my life. Even living on the coast dad and I only made it to the ocean when his friend visited with his little brother. 

I hadn't seen them in a while. I hoped Buck was doing ok. 

The stone under my hands was sharp as I climbed to the peak of that island. It jutted out of the water in defiance. The entrance to its cave was hidden in the stone and shaped in such a way that water couldn't get into that gaping hole. 

I don't remember much after that.

I remember the blood on my hands from the stone. The heavy weight in my legs as they struggled against me, screaming for salvation. Desperate for rest. I remember something in the cave entrance. Its eyes wide, twin tails wrapping around each other like listless DNA. White skin and a blue head, red eyes burning as cotton filled my ears. 

I woke up in an alleyway. 

Night firmly set into the sky, Clothes sopping wet and chilling me to my bones. I was shivering in Sunyshore. Still had my pokeballs. Still had my jacket. I couldn’t remember grabbing them.

I could hear dad yelling for me, that edge of fear in his voice I rarely heard. A desperation. My legs screamed as I stood, begging me to sit down again. I trudged to the sound of his voice. 

To this day I'm not sure if the look on his face was anger, relief or joy. He just grabbed me. Held me so tight it made my ribs ache for days. 

Flint stayed with us for a few weeks after that. Kept me with him all the time. I think they thought that I’d dissolve or something. 

Looked at me weird when I told him about the island in the lake. Told me the fences keep people out. That there was no way to get to it without permission and a guide. The guards patrol all day, he said.

I asked him why. He handed me a drink and shook his head. Never answered.

Whatever that thing was, it had what I was missing. My dad called it my spark. 

One day I'll find it again. Thank it. Even if  chill water on my hand makes my bones ache, the fog rolling over the shore driving fear into my skull like an ice pick.

[foxglovesound]

eyebaus

[messrsrarchives]

some comforting wolfstar fics for you:

waterloo - frogsandfairies: james knows that wolfstar are pining for each other, hogwarts fake dating !!

wading in waist high water - colgatemintybluegel: wolfstar great british bake off au

flight 143 - thebiinbitch: past wolfstar, reunited on the same flight 5 years later and reconnect

the oldest recipe for parsnip soup - eyra: wolfstar, autistic sirius, the lupins spend christmas with the potters - remus cooks for sirius !!

anything by eyra tbh

red lips and rosy cheeks - soloorganaas: remus takes a latin course in rome for his degree where he meets sirius and the gang

blind and deaf - cocomouse: wolfstar keep bumping into each other on separate blind dates, HoH sirius

my jokes are my armour, my kindness is my sword - littleoldrachel: remus moves to a new town and sets up a plant shop, gets taken in by the gang

here's to looking at you - thechanchanman: mutual "dislike" to lovers, wolfstar live in the same small town and constantly prank one another

till we have arrived home again - prouvairing: post-second war, wolfstar move to a muggle town! fun ocs, semi-raising harry

stray dogs - msalexwp: sirius raising harry, remus raising teddy, they adopt twin dogs separately and have to spend time together :D

desk art - iamcecimonster: oneshot, university au, wolfstar sit at the same lecture desk and leave lil drawing and notes to each other

hi okay i'm not much of a fluff reader :/ but some of these might help !! + the authors pages !!

feel free to add on if you have any !! my fluff supply is limited

[luveline]

I’m on my knees for anything bombshell and spence 🙏🏽 maybe their first real date??? or them working a case after they are officially together

Oh, the misery. 

You and Spencer are supposed to be in a low lit restaurant right now feeding each other spoonfuls of parsnip soup between lovey-dovey eyefuls of one another, legs tangled under the table, your kitten heel scratching against the rubber sole of his converse. 

You're supposed to be dressed to the nines, your shawl fragrant with the vanilla perfume Spencer likes so much, a dress cut to the thigh that shows just a little too much when you lean forward. You're supposed to be kissing like idiots in the back seat of your car. 

“They haven't seen anything this bad since the Creek Killer, and this is two active UnSub's at once, so let's keep that in mind,” Hotch says, nodding to the door for Rossi to follow. He sends you and Spencer a look that may or may not be knowing as he adds, “And keep this professional.” 

“Aren't we professional?” you ask Spencer. 

“No!” Morgan calls, he and Emily already out the door. 

Hotch and Rossi are on crime scene duty. Morgan and Emily the victim's family. JJ will be snapping at the heels of the ravenous media in an attempt to dissuade them from following this case too closely: it's a bad one. Coverage will make it worse. 

You're on theory. There are two halves to your job —analysing past cases with similarities, and scrutinising the details of the current case. What you really want is to be analysing Spencer Reid's stupid hot face, and for his hands to be scrutinising your hips. Or your legs. Or your mouth. 

“I know what you're thinking.” 

You raise your eyebrows at Spencer. “I don't think you do.” 

He laughs, “No, I do.” His tie gets caught under his elbow as he grabs your notebook. “They always give you the worst jobs.”

“That's just not true, Mr. Reid. This is my very favourite job.”  

“Dr. Reid,” Spencer corrects, a smile already playing on his lips in anticipation of your reaction. 

You needle an elbow into his side until he huffs and pulls away. Surrendering. Typical. Displaced air fans your hand as he opens your notebook to a blank page. “We'll start with UnSub commonalities, just as soon as…” he murmurs, his pen scratching across the top line. You can't see past his shoulder. 

“Serials targeting women,” you say immediately. “Likely older, white, male, the usual. Murders are incisive, and disgusting, but the signatures are so different, they can't be– Does the pen not work?” 

Spencer shakes his head, sliding the notebook across the table to you. “Had to do this first.” 

Caveats for perfect first date, Spencer's written, a list with one lonely bullet point. Me and you together. 

You shouldn't be surprised. It's really not unlike him to be sweet, but this is alarmingly confident. I'm gonna eat him, you think, looking up with a smirk that turns soft at the sight of him. His cheeks are marbling with red flush, hair in his eyes as he stares anywhere but you. 

“Spence, are you blushing?” you ask fondly. 

“Don't be upset about tonight,” he murmurs, ignoring you with a hint of worry to his tone. “I know it's not what you wanted, but I– we can still go, when we're home–” 

You press your lips together in an unsuccessful attempt to hide your smile. “Yeah, we can still go, but you're right, Spence. You are. This is as good a place as any. 'N' I can make any date perfect.” 

Your joke rescues him from the depths of mortification. He clears his throat, says, “Exactly. But we should get back to the list.” 

He takes your hand under the table, long fingers sewn between yours.

[letterstoyourlove]

When you get older, you notice your sheets are dirty. Sometimes, you do something about it. And sometimes, you read the front page of the newspaper and sometimes you floss and sometimes you stop biting your nails and sometimes you meet a friend for lunch. You still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn’t satisfy you as much as it used to. You still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago.

You remember your umbrella, you check up on people to see if they got home, you leave places early to go home and make toast. You stand by the toaster in your underwear and a big t-shirt, wondering if you should just turn in or watch one more hour of television. You laugh at different things. You stop laughing at other things. You think about old loves almost like they are in a museum. The socks, you notice, aren’t organized into pairs and you mentally make a note of it. You cover your mouth when you sneeze, reaching for the box of tissues you bought, contains aloe.

When you get older, you try different shampoos. You find one you like. You try sleeping early and spin class and jogging again. You try a book you almost read but couldn’t finish. You wrap yourself in the blankets of: familiar t-shirts, caffe au lait, dim tv light, texts with old friends or new people you really want to like and love you. You lose contact with friends from college, and only sometimes you think about it. When you do, it feels bad and almost bitter. You lose people, and when other people bring them up, you almost pretend like you know what they are doing. You try to stop touching your face and become invested in things like expensive salads and trying parsnips and saving up for a vacation you really want. You keep a spare pen in a drawer. You look at old pictures of yourself and they feel foreign and misleading. You forget things like: purchasing stamps, buying more butter, putting lotion on your elbows, calling your mother back. You learn things like balance: checkbooks, social life, work life, time to work out and time to enjoy yourself.

When you get older, you find yourself more in control. You find your convictions appealing, you find you like your body more, you learn to take things in stride. You begin to crave respect and comfort and adventure, all at the same time. You lay in your bed, fearing death, just like you did. You pull lint off your shirt. You smile less and feel content more. You think about changing and then often, you do.

-Alida Nugent, You Don't Have to Like Me: Essays on Growing Up, Speaking Out, and Finding Feminism

[marvelmusing]

In Another Life

Christmas Eve Special

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Summary: Its your second Christmas in Ravka, your first with the country at peace and Aleksander as your husband. Together, you have the perfect Christmas Eve.

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

Aleksander is no where to be found.

It’s Christmas Eve, and soon it will be time for you to move the presents from one of the spare rooms to underneath the Christmas tree in the Domed Hall. Aleksander could never resist spoiling the children who choose to stay at the Little Palace for Christmas. Since he was the reason why there were so many gifts, you weren’t going to start moving them without his help.

The bedroom you share with Aleksander is empty, as is the old war room, and his study. After a brief check in the library, you decide to walk through the corridors beside the children’s dormitories. It’s then that you notice a door left ajar, warm candlelight spilling out of the crack as you nudge it open.

It appears you’ve found your husband.

This particular dormitory is filled with the younger children, between the ages of five and seven. Aleksander sits against the headboard of one of the central beds, a child on each side, accompanied by a tiny one on his lap.

His voice is soft as he reads from the book propped on his childless thigh. Looking at the beds along the wall, you note that majority of the children have already fallen asleep. The boy in his lap, the youngest sun summoner Dimitri, is blinking sleepily as he leans against Aleksander’s chest.

Aleksander smiles at you when he sees you lingering in the doorway, as he turns the final page of the book. Once the story is over, you help him guide the last few sleepy children into their own beds. Tucking in blankets, adjusting cushions, and finally blowing out candles.

It’s only once you retreat into the corridor that Aleksander speaks to you in a low voice as he pulls you close.

“Apologises for keeping you waiting, my love. They wanted a story before bed.”

Pressing a tender kiss to his cheek, you smile softly.

“I love seeing you like this.”

With the Second Army now disbanded, and the war won, Grisha were free to choose whether they would join Ravka’s singular army. The Little Palace was now a safe haven for Grisha who had no family, and a place of learning for all Grisha.

Aleksander was now able to be simply himself. Not the fearsome Black General. Just Aleksander. The man who oversees the Little Palace, who teaches summoning lessons, and plays with the children when they plead with him to join in on their fun.

“Have you eaten?” You ask him as you slide your hand into his.

Tugging him along the corridor, you already know the answer to your question and you begin to lead the two of you towards the kitchens of the Little Palace.

“Not since luncheon.” He says quietly.

As Ravka had finally entered the depth of winter, the afternoons soon turned dark, and with your increasingly busy schedules, you and Aleksander often ended up dining when it was dark outside.

“I have a surprise for you.”

His eyes soften, and he tilts his head in curiosity. Excitement fills you, and you all but skip your way down the corridor.

The fire casts a soft orange glow over the kitchens, as you open the door and step inside. It’s much warmer in the cosy space beside the ovens. The smell of your surprise warming on the stovetop has your mouth watering, and you turn to look at Aleksander.

His brows are furrowed deeply as he tries to decipher the delicious scent filling the room, then recognition sparks in his eyes and he turns to look at you with his lips parted in astonishment.

“Is this?”

Your smile widens and you stop in front of the pot.

“A traditional borscht, made with frost parsnips.”

Aleksander had told you about one of his favourite wintertime meals from his childhood. Unfortunately, the frost parsnips that had been a key ingredient hadn’t existed over the last few centuries.

However, you had been practising using your power to create plants that had become extinct over the years - although you had only been successful with a few flower breeds so far.

He gapes at you, and your face practically glows with excitement and pride.

“How?” He asks.

“I had a little help from David.” You admit, before you begin to explain how you did it. “We managed to figure out that frost parsnips were from the same family as both carrots and parsley.”

Two bowls have already been placed on the countertop, and you scoop out a portion each for you and Aleksander.

“Their closest cousin is a turnip that grows in Fjerda. So, I used that as a starting point. It took me a few tries to get the shape and texture right, but Baghra helped as well.”

He raises a brow at that.

“She did?”

Your smile softens as you hand him a spoon, followed by his bowl of borscht which he accepts eagerly.

“Usually I wouldn’t trust her judgement, but she was very critical of my first attempts, so I think she was telling the truth when she said this one was passable.”

A small laugh leaves Aleksander’s lips, and he brings a spoonful up to his mouth. He blows lightly over the food, before he takes his first mouthful.

You don’t even look at your own bowl, instead focusing on remembering every detail of Aleksander’s reaction.

As soon as the food warms his tongue, his eyes widen in surprise and delight, and he hums with pleasure as he continues to chew on the dish you had created. A wide smile spreads over your lips, and you finally pick up your own bowl and allow yourself to enjoy it.

Aleksander was right, it is delicious, perfect for a cold winter evening.

He serves his own second helping as you’re halfway through your first, and warmth glows in your chest.

Once you’ve both eaten your fill, Aleksander pulls your body against his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and your body sings with pride and happiness at the thought of pleasing him.

“You’re incredible.” He tells you.

Leaning back, you tilt your head to look at his face. His eyes are glossy with emotion, but there’s a tender smile on his lips.

“Thank you.”

He kisses your forehead, and your smile widens as his lips trail down your nose. Another kiss is pressed to the tip of your nose, before he nuzzles his face affectionately against yours.

“You mean the world to me.” He whispers against your lips as he leans in to kiss you. Sliding a hand into his hair, you grip the back of his head to pull him closer into the kiss.

You’re both smiling fondly as you break apart.

“Happy Christmas, Sasha.”

He kisses you again - a chaste press of his lips against yours.

“Happy Christmas, my love.”

»»---------------------►

The next morning, you’re awoken by the doors to your bedroom opening. Fedoyr and Genya stand in the open doorway with conspiratorial smiles on their faces, and a swarm of children burst in behind them. They greet you with a jumbled chorus of 'good morning's and 'merry christmas'.

When the curtain is tugged open to allow in the bright morning light, you whine and squeeze your eyes shut with a pout.

“It’s far too early.”

“But it’s Christmas.” They protest.

“Sasha, tell them to wait.” You mumble against the pillows, turning over to reach for your husband’s warmth. Only for your hands to settle over cold sheets.

Lifting your head up, you find Aleksander standing at the foot of the bed, tying up the belt of his softest dressing gown with several excited children bouncing around him.

You narrow your eyes at him.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.”

His smile is wide, and he looks just as excited as the children.

“But it’s Christmas, my love.”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur

In Another Life Tag List: @parabatai-winchester @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @jambolska-grozdova @mxacegrey @budugu @cynthianokamaria @scarlettqueen190 @eloquentree @sharp-cheekbones-locked @sorrow-and-bliss @biblophilefox82 @tartiflvtte @rainbowgoblinfan @savagejane1 @sande5098

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia

[eyra]

whats your writing process? I LOVE YOUR WRITHING and I cant help but wonder how u write such amazing fics

thank you! my writing process honestly differs from piece to piece and has changed and evolved a lot over time. with shorter stories (curlew cove, the proctor house, statten park) I tend to have a general vibe and I’ll just sit down and write whatever comes to mind. longer fics (big blue sky, parsnips, ullswater) had a bit more planning involved but not much. but I’m currently writing a book and that’s been a whole other process. lots of planning and research and note taking and what have you. so it really varies.

I would say I’m not naturally a planner though and my best writing happens when I just open a blank page and start writing with no specific direction. I just see what comes out really.

also probably worth noting that I read every single line I write out loud. I don’t know if it’s any good until I read it out loud. x

[deathontheworld]

It's Always Quiet in the Valley -> Chapter 2

Watching as the mysterious man leaves his farm, Miles looks down at a box, which he assumes the man left since it wasn't there yesterday. Squatting down, he goes to open the box. He grows confused as he looks down at what is in the box - fifteen parsnip seeds. Moving the parsnip seeds around, Miles can see a note at the bottom of the box, “For your farming journeys.” - Mayor Lewis.

Looking up from the box, Miles glances around at the ruins of his “farm”, if you could even call it that. All around, there were trees, which were mostly standing except for a few fallen ones. There were boulders, some stones, logs, and stumps, as well as high grasses. Unknowingly, he sighs, wondering how he got to be here.

Going inside to grab a cup of coffee and his tools, Miles starts to ponder the last few months. Just a few months ago, he was working at the biggest company this side of the war- Jojo Corp. But that was all behind him now. Instead of working a 9-to-5, he will pour everything he has into this farm. With another sigh, he makes his way outside to start cleaning the farm and to plant his (free!) seeds.

Hours pass before Miles even bothers to go back inside. Once inside, he looks over his hurting hands, which are covered in blisters. Running his thumb over one of the blisters, he winces. Grabbing his water bottle (and filling it up), he looks towards his clock- 2:00. Rubbing his face, he can't help but think how tired and hungry he was. Looking at his bed, he debates trying to sleep but decides against it when he feels his stomach rumble in hunger.

After a few long seconds, he decides to hit the town in search of good. ‘All towns, big or small, will have somewhere to eat. Makes no sense for them not to.’ Miles rationalizes.

By the time he reaches the town, he is no longer hungry but instead ravenous. Looking and walking, he stops right in his tracks when he sees something green out of the corner of his eye. Seeing this flash of green, he can't help but think of the mysterious man who left the box of seeds on his porch.

Miles was correct. The mysterious man was there. He was wearing the same green coat as before. Standing behind the man, Miles writes down, “Hello. You were at my farm. Who are you?” Before taping on the man's shoulder. The man jumps at the tap, causing Miles to jump and throw his hands up, showing he is not a threat. The man looks at him inquisitively for a second before freezing.

Miles extends the notebook to the man, watching as he reads quickly. He watches as the man says something. Shaking his head, Miles signs, “I'm deaf.”

The man's facial expression turns into a surprised look. Miles watches as the man grabs a pen from his pocket and writes something down before handing it over.

‘Sorry. I was helping out the Mayor. I'm Harvey, the town's doctor. It's nice to meet you.” The man- Harvey watches as Miles reads what he wrote. Looking back up at the man, Miles wonders if he should show the doctor his hands. Deciding against this, he gives the doctor a smile before nodding at him. Miles starts to leave a second later, only to be stopped by Harvey, placing a hand on his arm. Looking back towards him, Miles is able to make out the doctor saying, “What is your name?”

Reaching back for his notebook, Miles writes down his name and rips out the page, handing it to him. With a wave and a nod, Miles takes off to find food.

Once away from Harvey, he can feel his heart flutter. Immediately, he ignores this as he sees a building towards the middle of the town. Taking a chance, he makes his way over to the building.

Thankfully, the building turned out to be a saloon, Stardrop Saloon, to be exact. Making his way inside, Miles locks his eyes on the man behind the counter.

Going up to the counter with his notebook and pen in hand, he looks at the menu. Feeling the man's eyes on him, he looks up back towards the man behind the counter. Miles watches as the man says something, “What would you like?”

Miles, pointing to the menu, shows the man what he would like to eat. The man nods with a weird look on his face before turning around and making Miles his food.

Miles has seen that look before, immediately recognizing that the man was confused about why he didn't talk. When the man comes back, Miles instinctively signs, “Thank you.” The man smiles and nods at him before setting down the food.

Once the food is in front of Miles, the man points to himself and signs his name, “Gus.” Smiling at this, Miles gives Gus his name before grabbing his food and making his way over to a table.

[restorativemeal]

Menu Twenty

Menu Twenty from Rowan Bishop and Sue Carruthers' "The Vegetarian Adventure Cookbook".

Cream of Tomato Soup: butter, onion, celery, tomatoes, brown sugar, parsley, italian herbs, bay leaf, salt and pepper, vegetable stock, marmite, flour, yoghurt, sour cream

Magical Courgette Bake: courgette, egg, milk, cottage cheese, wholemeal flour, baking powder, salt and pepper, cheese, pumpkin seeds

Jacket Potatoes: potatoes, salt, butter, sour cream

Sweet Baked Parsnips: parsnips, salt and pepper, margarine, brown sugar

Red Capsicum Salad with Snow Peas: capsicums, peas, olive oil, lemon juice, red wine vinegar, garlic, basil, mustard powder, salt and pepper

Despite the feelings of positivity I had found in Week Twenty-Eight, it was now Week Twenty-Nine and those feelings were gone. To me, though it was now April, the new year had only just rolled over. There was a newness that typically comes with January 1st. Nothing from January, February, or March was coming with me into April. I had nothing to show for myself and nothing going my way. Now returning to the soup section of the cookbook to complete Menu Twenty, a four page spread whose presence I had feared since discovering it months ago. I couldn’t draw similarity to the previous soup weeks because of the overarching theme of newness. 

April began with Easter, granting a day off of the structured labour in my life. Then the sound of screeching tyres and an all encompassing smash, tin colliding with tin. Doors opening and closing, voices, and a car with a crushed behind over the driveway. There was a car accident on the street on Monday morning. Neighbours banded together, and I sent my flatmate outside with the frozen mint peas purchased a week earlier. I was first aid trained but didn’t want to crowd the scene. It felt symbolic, the correlation between a young man stepping too hard on his accelerator, and the feeling that my life was speeding up also. I was still certain from the week before that the universe mapped every event that prevailed down on Earth. The cars were written off, neither one insured, and the fate of both parties troubled me and I became concerned with how self-indulgent I had become through this process. 

Early preparations.

Early fears of Menu Twenty were quelled by the experience and familiarity I had of my kitchen.  The quiet of the kitchen on a Wednesday evening was my break from an otherwise chaotic and unfruitful existence. I cooked diligently, grating, chopping, portioning, blending and cooking down. Guests came in, just three who didn’t reside at the flat. I blended again and tended the oven, before I knew it, there was a Cream of Tomato Soup, Magical Courgette Bake, plate of Jacket Potatoes, Sweet Baked Parsnips, and a Red Capsicum Salad with Snow Peas on the bench in my silent kitchen.

Trivial moments.

We sat at the table and I became anti-social. My hair had grown to a point that I no longer recognised myself and I felt stifled, unable to relate to anyone as if I were meeting them for the first time. With five different meals, we were spoilt for choice. Perhaps the decision of where to begin was overwhelming to all, or just me. The Red Capsicum Salad with Snow Peas, had been made with green capsicum rather than red, and the frozen mint peas rather than snow. “I’ll never amount to anything,” I exclaimed, before swallowing a glass of white wine. Still the least intelligent at the table as my guests played with their food. Jacket Potato into a small man. I considered my future and put my foot in my mouth. Three times sitting at the corner of the table. Discussion turned to silent retreats and the good things we had heard about them. One guest turned to me and said, “you couldn’t do it.” I looked down at my plate and noticed I had spoken too much over dinner because everyone else had finished their plates except me, I still had half of my own Jacket Potato.

The dinner table.

By the end of Week Twenty-Nine, I was all negativity. Seeking guidance through forms of nonviolent silencing and willful ignorance, socialising with groups I wasn’t so familiar with.  I considered whether it was inhumane to refer to such good friends as mere guests. Was I downplaying the roles they played in the cookbook? At the very least it was April and my faith in the universe remained unshaken.

[dark-bear-productions]

Oh I am very interested in anything you have to offer! Dutch food is one of my least known European cuisines, so I'll take anything 👀

Alright, let’s go over a few quintessentially Dutch dishes. I got this question when I mentioned hutspot, so let's start there. Hutspot has its own Wikipedia page, featuring this pic:

It's boiled potato, carrot, and onion mashed together. Wikipedia tells me its served with klapstuk, which is apparently a cut of beef from the ribs. To my knowledge I've never had that, but my parents used to serve their hutspot with hachée, which is a thick beef, onion (and apparently apple?), and herb stew, so that's pretty close I think. Hachée looks like this:

Keeping in line with this tradition of smashing potatoes and boiled vegetables together, our national dish is boerenkoolstamppot (like German, Dutch enjoys stitching words together; it means kale mash, basically). This looks thus:

As you can tell, the real star of the dish is the sausage. It's rookworst -- smoke sausage --; meat, spices and salt smoked in a horse shoe-shaped casing. I just learned that these were traditionally made in November, the Slaughter Month, which happens to be when kale is harvested, leading to this classic combo.

(By the way: keep in mind The Netherlands didn't have potatoes until the 16th Century. I'm not sure what we did with boerenkool, but hutspot was made with parsnips instead of potatoes.)

On the subject of making interesting sausages: the Dutch looove their fries (usually the thick kind, with mayo), and the best way to eat those is with either a frikandel or a kroket. A frikandel is mincemeat with spices, looking like this:

A kroket is essentially a thick ragout rolled in breading, looking like this (both sausages are popular on bread, too):

While we're talking about food from the snackbar, let’s talk about my favourite junkfood: frietje oorlog (literally war fries, but it means messy fries). These are fries served with mayo, raw onions, and saté, an Indonesian peanut sauce:

Note that having this is fully a result of colonialism. Indeed, the Indonesian rice table is official Dutch cultural heritage. But that's insane to me, so instead I'll use the raw onions to talk about Hollandse Nieuwe (Hollandish New One):

This is herring caught and sold at a specific time of year, eaten gutted, deboned, and decapitated but otherwise raw, with raw onions.

Now, as a final mention before I need to get up, let’s talk sweets. We Dutch love our pastries and cookies, and there's an absolute mass of local and regional cakes and waffles and what have you, but one sweet that actually serves as dinner is the Dutch pancakes:

They're thicker than crepes (and in a restaurant much bigger and thicker than the ones in this picture I got online), but they really are just flour, milk, and eggs fried in a frying pan. They're traditionally eaten with a very dark sugar syrup and powdered sugar, but people put on lots of stuff. A very popular variation has raisins and/or apple slices added in the pan before the batter to have them sit *in* the pancake. Another adds young cow's cheese and folds the pancake like a calzone, yet another fries bacon and pours batter over top. But the main take is that a sweet dinner isn't unusual in The Netherlands.

Alright, I believe these are our biggest hits. There's a bunch more, of course, including regional stuff and things influenced by former colonies, immigrants, etc. But these are some very very Dutch dishes that I have had very very often. Hope you enjoyed the read! Feel free to ask questions.

[megamewtwos]

Mass Lair Purge! Over 100 dragons up for grabs, most being G1's! Some are gened, some have lore. A lot of Doubles and nocs, all listed on the AH but pretty much PWYW, just PM me with a price and I will relist it as a private auction! I'm Parsnips#61779 Page One | Page Two I have a problem and i need my lair space back

[jungleindierock]

Rebjukebox 2024 - No. 3

My third playlist of new music from mainly new bands and new artists, with a couple of well known acts thrown in for good luck!! But the tracks are new music from 2024. It's mixed genres of music from many different countries. Makes no difference, where the tracks appear in the playlist, they are all good.

I feel 40 is good number of tracks not too long or too short in listening time for your enjoyment. The whole playlist is only two hours and fifteen minutes long.

I used to do these just through Soundcloud, but thought i might as well add it to my Spotify also. So i will add two links to the playlist and can use which ever one you prefer.

If your a solo singer or a member of a band, then follow me on my Soundcloud page here, if i like your stuff, i will follow you back, if i don’t follow back then sorry but your not my thing. Whatever style of music is fine, i like many stlyes and will take a listen. You should always trust your own ears with music.

You can only follow 2,000 people on Soundcloud, so am limited. But if am following you there, i can see when you share new music, which means you could be added to one of these playlists or the main JIR playlist (one per month). What style of music is fine, i like many and will take a listen.

Enjoy & share, hopefully you will discover some great new bands from taking a listen, stay free, see you soon with No 4.

Ok the links for the playlist:- Soundcloud - Spotify

Reb

Tracklist

Deux Visages - February

La Amenaza Constante - Perder El Tiempo

Beatowls - All I See Is Trouble

Amie Hayes (ft. Erin Lord-Astles) - Wicked Woman

Chelsea Wolfe - House Of Self-Undoing

Parsnip - The Light

The Black Keys - I Forgot To Be Your Lover

The Lovely Eggs - My Mood Wave

Leon Bridges - Redemption Song (Bob Marley Cover)

Upbeat Lord - Love Bombs

dont get lemon - Have Some Shame

Exsonvaldes - Countdown

Beth Gibbons - Floating On A Moment

The Rolling People - I'll Be There

Mount Kimble - Fishbrain

Corella - Drifting

FEET - The Real Thing

Wotts - Petals

Nina Cobham - Imagining Things

Dogsmile - The Hunter

Thrillhouse - Still In There Somewhere

The Public Eye - The Wire

HEALER - Wake Me Up

The Hip Abduction - Mt. Olympus

Dreamer Boy - Heartbreaker

The Warning - S!CK

Drahla - Default Parody

Mylar - Scribbled Sunset

Wavey Days - Round The Bend

Tyler Ramsey - You Should come Over

Pretty Good Sofa - Dr. Mordite

The Fourth Wall - Darkness Of Heart

Parks, Squares And Alleys - Bittersweet Haze

MONA - All That It Took

Maggie Rogers - Don't Forget Me

Winoan Oak - If I Were To Die

Laura Jane Grace - Punk Rock In Basements

Anne Bennett - Second Death

YONDER - Fading Out

Bottomless Brunch - Bite Your Tongue

[minecraftrelatedrandomness]

Tigers on a Gold Leash (1/1) | 100 words

"The tiger in the office does not like Owen's parsnips."

— Duolingo Welsh course

Now, how did that even happen?!

Out-of-universe? This fic happened because I was trawling AO3 tags and the TV Tropes page for Duolingo and got inspired by what I found.

No content warnings this time, just a crackfic drabble I wrote in under two hours, ft. Lily the tiger.

[phisaya]

What do your angel wings look like?

Blue You got blue wings! I imagine these to be a deep, rich, jewel-toned blue, but they're YOUR wings, so you decide. You are the sound of water moving gently on the side of a boat. You are a bowl of chopped parsnips to be made into soup for your neighbor who is sick. You are a soft touch on the arm to a friend who is sad, you are the folded corner of a page of a book. you are gifts wrapped in ribbon and too much tape. You are the feeling a dog gets when it is pet on the head. You are an open window on a warm summer night. You are the knowledge that it will be okay. You are: Angel of peace.

[tearfulribbons]

What do your angel wings look like?

Blue

You got blue wings! I imagine these to be a deep, rich, jewel-toned blue, but they're YOUR wings, so you decide. You are the sound of water moving gently on the side of a boat. You are a bowl of chopped parsnips to be made into soup for your neighbor who is sick. You are a soft touch on the arm to a friend who is sad, you are the folded corner of a page of a book. you are gifts wrapped in ribbon and too much tape. You are the feeling a dog gets when it is pet on the head. You are an open window on a warm summer night. You are the knowledge that it will be okay.

Tagging: @jaxasstm, @pomniegranate, @deepspacevivarium

[pure-vanilla-lilies]

•Parsnip is the youngest, she is the little sister of Honeycomb Tea Cookie

•Parsnip is the daughter of Wild Parsnip Cookie & Sugar Maple Cookie

•Parsnips father Wild Parsnip passed when Parsnip was only 6 years old, a day after her birthday (He died on Christmas Day)

•Sugar Maple is an horrible mother to her two kids especially Parsnip.

•Sugar Maple would physically, verbally & mentally abused Parsnip to the point she snapped

Parsnip ran away from home at the age of 16, her brother moved out when he was 20 due to becoming an Paladin.

•At the age of 18, Parsnip soon started to mess around with science and medicine, by age 19 she hired many people to work with her

•At age 19, Parsnip soon kidnapped crème republic citizens and used them for her research. If they were failures she would murder them in their cells

•Parsnips one researcher Lavender Milk Tea was exposed to the flower mutation, she told him he had two choices. Leave or be killed. He left that day.

•At age 23 the news around the many deaths and disappearances of the citizens. Parsnip was put up in trial but found not guilty due to fear from the jury.

•At age 23 Parsnip went back to her normal routes and discovered the flower genetic code. She was super happy

•At age 24, Parsnip tried to make the flower hybrid cookie, with months of failure she created the cookie which she named ‘Milky’

•At age 25, ‘Milky’ grew from a new born to an teen in over a year. ‘Milky’ blood contained the poison from the sap of the flower. She poisoned many researchers in which they died in an hour.

•At age 25, ‘Milky’ became very dangerous killing mostly Parsnips researchers and experiments and almost killing her, she had to let Milky go. She was brutally murder making Parsnips research go on hiatus

•At age 25, Parsnip left her laboratory and headed to the roads of the republic, the citizens seen how badly Parsnip looked (blood, dirt, cuts etc.) when she fell onto the streets, the citizens quickly helped her where Baumkuchen was at.

•At age 25, Baumkuchen luckily saved Parsnip but she was in a coma.

•At age 26, Parsnip wakes up from her coma, she is greeted by Oyster, who she wanted to make an deal with her. If she becomes an elder she will have protection and if she don’t she would be dead by tomorrow. Parsnip agreed and she became an elder of the republic.

Page 1 Complete))