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thedisneychef · 2 years ago

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Ghirardelli Soda Fountain And Chocolate Shop

Ghirardelli Soda Fountain and Chocolate Shop is a beloved destination for chocolate lovers and ice cream enthusiasts alike. Located in San Francisco, California, this iconic shop has been serving up delicious treats since 1852, and it has become a must-visit destination for tourists and locals alike. The shop features a wide selection of premium chocolates, including their signature chocolate squares, as well as a variety of ice cream flavors and toppings. In addition to their mouth-watering desserts, Ghirardelli also offers a range of coffee and tea beverages, making it the perfect spot for a sweet treat or a relaxing afternoon break. In this context, we can explore the history of Ghirardelli and how it has become an iconic brand in the world of chocolate and desserts. We can also discuss the importance of using high-quality ingredients, such as premium cocoa beans and fresh dairy, to create delicious and indulgent treats. Finally, we can highlight the unique experience of visiting the Ghirardelli Soda Fountain and Chocolate Shop and how it has become a beloved destination for chocolate and ice cream lovers around the world. More Delicious Recipes You Will Love: - General Tso Chicken Recipes – Nine Dragons - Ginger Sauce – Teppan Edo - Grapefruit Cake With Cream Cheese Frosting – The Hollywood Brown Derby Reasons I freely admit, this is a pretty ordinary recipe for a pretty ordinary item (my only one of the week, I promise). Who doesn’t have a chocolate chip cookie recipe that they already use, and love? And honestly, the recipe is almost exactly the same as Toll House chocolate chip cookies. My reasons for making these cookies are purely selfish. Childhood memories of chocolate chip cookies My mom was a stay-at-home-mom and while she did and could cook and bake (and was really, really, really fantastic at it), I don’t think she really liked to do it. Unless it was Christmas or some other equally grand event, my mother wasn’t a baker. I totally get why… Staying home with kids, it’s exhausting, and baking is a needless stress. It creates more to do or more that needs to be done and watching that oven is almost like having to watch another child. Plus, we grew up in a house built in the 1830s, the kitchen was very small, there was no dishwasher, and the water for the house actually came via two artesian wells on our property, which meant that we could “run out” of water. If that happened, somebody had to go outside, under the house, into a dirt crawlspace in the dark, and flip the switch to the backup well. Since baking requires lots of dishes, and lots of dishes means lots to wash, we’d inevitably “run out” of water and mom would have to go under the house and switch over the wells. On top of that, in the summer we had no air conditioning, so once it got hot from the oven, it was miserably hot all day with no relief beyond some expertly placed box fans. So even though my mom was, and is, a great cook and baker (she’s even a 4-H foods group leader and occasionally county judge… Seriously, she knows her stuff), you can see that baking for the sake of baking is just more trouble then it was really worth in our house. However, the big exception to this was chocolate chip cookies. Going by my memory (which is never wrong), she’d make chocolate chip cookies almost on demand. And even at the time, this was so special for us because, like I said, my mother didn’t bake, but also because she actually had us make them with her. Of everything I’ve ever made with and for my mom, of all the foods she’s taught me about, of all the recipes she’s given me, chocolate chip cookies are the thing I remember cooking with her first and the most often. I can even picture the old, chipped, vaguely 1970’s bowl we used to make them in and the Black and Decker (back when they did cooking appliances… Maybe they still do? egg beater. And my brother and I were the perfect cookie-making duo. I like chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven but that’s really it. Even with all the history that cookies have in our family, they’re not my favorite cookie. My brother, on the other hand, I’m constantly surprised they don’t find chocolate chips in his blood when he goes to donate to the Red Cross. However, I’m addicted to cookie dough, something my brother can’t stand. So I always got to lick the beaters, he got a majority of the cookies. It was win/win. Ghirardelli chocolate is also my son's favorite Now that my son is 2 years old and he’s showing a real love of the kitchen and cooking (he’s quite the helper when you need to make tacos), I wanted to bring him into making chocolate chip cookies like I did with my mom. Being the fan of all things cookie that he is, he took to the idea of making cookies like a fish to water. Perhaps he’s not the most accurate at adding the chocolate chips to the bowl, as is evidenced by my now dalmatian-like kitchen floor, but he had a blast. Come to find out that he thinks turning on the KitchenAid is a thrill equal to riding Expedition Everest. Sorry I didn’t take more pictures… Cooking with a little guy while the oven preheating kept me pretty occupied. But trust me, they came out just as every cookie should (I like mine crunchy so I bake them for a little longer) and fun was had by all. In addition to the delicious food and recipes, Disney World is also known for its unique dining experiences, such as character dining and themed restaurants. Whether you want to have breakfast with Mickey Mouse, dine in a replica of a sci-fi drive-in theater at Hollywood Studios, or enjoy a meal with an ocean view at the Coral Reef Restaurant in Epcot, there's something for everyone. And with the help of Recipes Today and the How to Make category, you can even recreate some of these magical dining experiences in your own home. So why not start planning your next Disney-inspired meal or dining experience today? Read the full article

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skyllion-uwu · 1 year ago

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Now that it's no longer semi-frozen like when I bought it I have a better idea of how it is. For context, this is a vegan gluten free chocolate cake with peppermint frosting and candy cane and cocao bits on the side.

I don't really like my bakery's vegan chocolate cake. It has great moisture content and soft texture but it has a strange after taste to me. I can't put my finger on what it is and nobody else seems to have a problem with it so I have no clue. However, the peppermint frosting is REALLY good. Strong peppermint but still sweet. It helps hide whatever that aftertaste is. I get why the customer clamor for it

I didn't get a photo before I began decimation so here it is half eaten

And with that I must return to work

The bakery has a peppermint crunch cake that apparently people will kill over. I purchased a slice so let's see if it's that good

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theguyinthemathexamples · 2 years ago

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Hihi!

the name's CakesInOil, aka theguyinthemathproblems, and i'm that one person in your fyp that takes nothing seriously and also the one that you'd realized has the mental capacity of a squirrel and a very very messed up, and an essentially non-existent sleep schedule the longer you get to know me :))

though, in all seriousness, i'm an ongoing genshin writer and yes, lowercase is intended whenever i write, excluding brainrots, drabbles, and possible future fanfics :DD

if you want to request anything, then go ahead :D

(more utc :]])

just note, tho, that the things I won't be doing are:

nsfw (which, yes, does include suggestive themes)

heavy themes of violence (angst ain't just my cup of coffee tbh, but i will try and experiment with it in the coming future),

anything,, yk, disgusting, which i won't be listing as i'm sure you know what i mean by what i said,

and overall ships that just spell "..why on god did he even allow people like you to exist here on earth??" and "i wonder how god hasn't smite you yet" for your entire mindset and existence.

and if you have any questions regarding my "do not request" limits, just dm me or send an ask. don't worry, i won't bite :))

if you don't want to send a request or an ask and just want to send something random, then go ahead, i won't mind :DD

A few things about me!

i may curse here and there but i'll try my best to tone it down a lot ^^""

i like to do little faces like :D, :), >:(, and etc. so that people can somewhat guess the sentence's context/intentions a little better :>

i'll wake up in the middle of the night and write random stuff that i would have no memory of doing (and tumblr will now have to hear every single end of it :))

i considered drabbles as brainrots bc i didn't know what it was called before

i'm under your bed :) /j

i use any type of pronouns (excluding neopronouns) but mostly use they/them to address myself :D

Custom tags :D

# collective reigning recipes ° : cake's everyday quotes (use them if u want lmao)

# fool's flour ° : cake talks/rambles about things that are mostly irl experiences

# sparkling wheat ♪ : cake talks/rambles about things that are related to fandoms, mostly containing content about genshin and hsr

# perilous eggs ° : cake answers asks/reqs/talks from anons or readers/viewers :>

# moonlit hens ♪ : cake answers asks/reqs/talks from their beloved moots :D

# obsidian-hard sugar ° : cake draws stuff :D

# "titan's wrath" frosting ° : cake... vents about stuff. *silently opens and closes vent on the floor*

# spoiled milk ° : cake spoils stuff, mostly about genshin and hsr

# sunlit cows ♪ : cake makes shitposts whether random or fandom related :)

Fic types :DD

# cherry waterfall * : cake makes a fic series

# scaled vanilla extracts ° : x reader fics

# suspiciously shiny mint chocolate ♪ : character x character fics maybe?

# gold coated cocoa powder ♪ : drabbles/short fics, might turn into cherry waterfalls if motivated enough

# silver lined strawberries ♪ : posts about/fics explaining aus, mostly from genshin and hsr

# stellar-borne cookies and cream ♪ : brainrots/headcannons that are more or less gonna turn into gold coated cocoa powder if braincells go boom boom big and loud enough

# sun-kissed sprinkles ♪ : cake reposts about stuff hehe >:]]

———————————

if i missed anything, don't hesitate to tell me about it :D

btw, yes, i will post very very very slowly, like even more slowly than a snail or tutrle bc i've unfortunately been very very busy as of late :((

"no no no no no BB by be in the na na na na BB I'll buy by by by" - my goofy ahh autocorrect, nov 15, 2022

#how do i tag lmao #send help #sagau #genshin writer #new writer here :)#watch me do a flip /hj #watch me post smth a few minutes/hours later after this lmao #genshin sagau #introducing myself #it is 3am #this is fine #intro post #made this just so i could reply to an ask 💞💞

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invincibleweasel · 3 years ago

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Nitpick November: Day 1 & 2

Let’s get this show on the road! I’m gonna be making these posts in pairs.

Nitpick 1: Let’s start with a more meta one. Who’s idea was it to name the characters Ruby Rose, Sun Wukong and Ozma? The names themselves aren’t bad per se. The issue comes with the fact that those names already exist in some form. Ruby Rose has the same name as the actress, Ruby Rose. Sun Wukong shares the name with a character from Journey to the West. While Ozma takes his name from Princess Ozma from The Marvelous Land of Oz. And while it’s not uncommon for the same names to be used across media, especially with mythological characters like Sun Wukong. Generally speaking, the media that they’re from uses well-known names across the board, not just one or two while everyone else gets original names. This is the same series where characters named Crow have their names spelled with a Q. Was it really too hard to name Ruby Rose, Rubi Rose or something? Or change Sun’s surname so it isn’t a direct copy of the mythological figure. Even giving Ozma a surname would do wonders for its recognisability. Nitpick 2: Let’s talk allusions. Allusions are honestly something I absolutely love, conceptually. Every character having an allusion to a story character. Each team having an allusion theme that ties them together nicely. It’s a really neat concept. You have characters based off of fairy tales, mythological figures, fables, folklore, poems, sweets, birds, memes...now hold a minute, what’s with those last three? CFVY’s theme is sweets, not even sweet-themed fairy tales or anything. Just sweets. How exactly are chocolate, fox hunter pie, red velvet cake and yatsuhashi story ‘characters’? Remember, this team was built by Monty himself. The one who established the allusion concept in the first place. If the creator himself can’t be consistent with his own rules. Is there any wonder how we got to RWBY’s disastrous state in the first place? That isn’t even getting into the fact that CFVY do have actual allusions, but none that tie the team together. Coco alluding to fashion designer and nazi collaborator/spy Coco Chanel (mostly in design, to Chanel herself), Fox alluding to The Fox and the Hound (in name and through his connection to a character named Copper only), Velvet alluding to The Velveteen Rabbit (in name and the fact that she’s a rabbit Faunus only) and Yatsuhashi, who doesn’t even get a proper allusion. The wiki claims he may allude to Quasimodo from The Hunchback and the Notre Dame but gives very vague evidence and does not cite any sources. Still, no central theme for the team unlike Teams RWBY and JNPR. They could’ve easily made Team CFVY’s theme sweet-based stories such as Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or The Gingerbread Man. There’s plenty to choose from. CRDL allude to birds. Just birds, not even birds from fairy tales or anything. Literal birds. Cardinals, thrushes, doves and larks to be exact. I understand that they’re not exactly the most important or well-liked characters but you couldn’t of at least put more effort into who they’re based on? Birds aren’t story characters, at least not in the same vein as Little Red Riding Hood or Goldilocks.

Keeping with the idea that they’re birds. Why not make their allusions based on famous winged or bird-like characters? Or if you want to keep with the theming that Cardin has by being based on Henry Beaufort, base them off the antagonists of JNPR’s respective stories (like Cardin is to Jaune). One member could be a soldier of the opposing army Achilles/Mulan fought against, while another could be based off a Frost Giant from Norse Mythology to go with Nora. FNKI’s team theme is memes...which aren’t exactly characters either, except for Neon maybe, if you stretch the definition of character in this context. Flynt is based off ‘Flint Coal’, a running joke from Rooster Teeth’s Minecraft Let’s Plays. Which for starters, isn’t even a story character and wouldn’t be understandable to a viewer who doesn’t experience Rooster Teeth content beyond RWBY. Neon is a reference to nyan cat, a dead meme that’s just as annoying as she is. But again, not a story character. Finally, Kobalt and Ivori share an allusion in the dress meme, in which a dress was seen as black and blue or white and gold, depending on who you asked. Given Flynt and Neon’s music-like aesthetics, why not make the team theme characters from musicals or about stories where music/instruments play a large role in it, like the Pied Piper as an example. Another team that I didn’t previously mention is SSSN, and that’s because the team itself has no theming whatsoever. While CFVY, CRDL and FNKI all had pretty weak themes, that at least had them. SSSN has none of that. Sun is based off Sun Wukong from the Journey to the West, Scarlet is based off Peter Pan from the official sequel Peter Pan in Scarlet, Sage has no exact allusion beyond vague Aesop Fable or Aesop himself and Neptune is Neptune, from Roman Mythology. There’s no theme that ties these four characters or stories together. Why not make them all JTTW characters? Or base each member of SSSN off a different classic novel from the Four Great Classic Novels of Chinese literature, which would work well given they’re a team at Haven Academy which is in Remnant’s loosely Asian-based kingdom? It takes very little effort to keep to a consistent theme, yet time and time again I’m left disappointed by Rooster Teeth’s laziness. You are the ones who constructed these rules, I expect you to follow them.

#rwby #rwde #nitpick november

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years ago

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in support of Texas relief, @romancewritingandwinchesters donated $20, and requested Sam and Dean waiting out a Texas storm with no electricity. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

(read on AO3)

When the snow starts coming down, Dean's not yet worried. He's driven the whole country at least five times; he can handle snow. It's when the temperature starts dropping fast that he pulls up, at the closest gas station, and fills the tank, and sends Sam inside for a few gallons of water and whatever food they don't have to cook. "I told you," Sam says, which frankly Dean thinks is a very smug and unattractive way of looking at the situation. "Remember, that front I was telling you about?"

"Yeah, but who thought it'd get this cold in Texas," Dean says, watching the numbers tick up on the pump. Shit, this is gonna be expensive.

"Oh, you know," Sam says, arms folded tight over his chest, stamping his feet by the car's rear door. "Meteorologists. Climatologists. Just that level."

Dean rolls his eyes, but Sam's turned away luckily and can't see it. Turns out Sam gets a little bitchy when it's this cold. They didn't really pack for it—this was supposed to be a low swing south to check a few harmless jobs, stuff that'd take Sam's mind off the whole soulless thing, a couple of easy wins and some weather a little better than February in South Dakota, but it's not working out that way. Fourteen degrees, according to the display on the Shell sign above their heads, and it's only nine at night.

The snow's already piling up, on the parking lot and in the street, making the nice local El Paso people drive under ten miles per hour and making the world seem—not-right. Alien. A cactus planted in the median glints with ice and Dean sucks his teeth, shivers hard. When the car's full up he recaps the tank and sets the nozzle back in place and then looks out at the frosted world. The black shine on the asphalt. "I don't like the look of that road," he says, after a second, and Sam follows his gaze and nods, immediately. "Tonight's not the night to get out of town."

"Texas blizzard on the highway?" Sam says, a little sarcastic, but shakes his head, more serious. "Yeah, it's gonna get a lot worse." His nose is pink from the cold. "Too cold for the car. Even if we still had that—remember, that awful pink blanket?"

"The one you totally ruined?" Dean says, and Sam grins, even if he shudders after. Sam ruined it by getting clawed up by a ghoul when he was twenty-three and trying to protect Dean from something he didn't need protecting from and then bleeding all over the damn blanket when Dean put him in the backseat to race him to the ER. Dumbass, Dean had called him then, but honestly not much has changed. Dean shoves Sam's side, shaking his head. "Why are we standing around here in the cold? Get in the car, let's go."

"You're the one who took forever with the gas," Sam argues back, but he gets in the car, so. Win for Dean. Beyond the win of having this Sam, this right good Sam, in the car in the first place—whole again, with the soul to make a context for the memories that make him Dean's brother.

They're not far off the highway so there'll be motels. The issue hits when they're driving—slow, painfully slow, crawling behind snow-caked Texas plates that don't know how to handle the weather—and the street goes suddenly dark, the lights crashing off in the fast food places and gas stations lining the road. "Shit," Dean says, checking the rearview, but luckily the truck behind him hasn't slammed its brakes and they're not about to be involved in a black-ice skid.

"You think—" Sam says, but cranes around and it's obvious. Some part of the grid, failing, and that's going to mean some panic and it's going to mean some accidents and it's also going to mean finding a place to stay just got a hell of a lot harder.

The kid at the motel they pick clearly has no idea what to do. It's a shithole, which is why Dean pulled in, and clearly there weren't too many customers to begin with. The lobby's dark other than a flashlight the kid's waving around while he explains in a panic that their electricity is out—"I can see that," Dean says, trying to be patient—and Sam finally leans over the counter, takes the flashlight out of the kid's hand, and sets it upright on the counter so it acts like a shitty lantern, filling the room with grey.

"Oh," the kid says, eyes gleaming big in the suddenly stable light. The kid—the boy. He looks barely older than Ben.

"Look," Sam says, while Dean's trying to shake off that thought. "We get that there won't be cable. We just need somewhere to weather it out."

"My register doesn't even work," the boy says, and Dean reaches into his wallet and peels out two hundred bucks and lays it fanned out on the counter. More big eyes—the room rate on the sign outside is forty-nine a night. "Oh," he says, again.

"Just give us keys, okay?" Dean says. "You can explain to your manager in the morning. How these weirdos paid a hundred, cash."

A blink. Maybe he's too young to realize he's being bribed. Sam sighs, and leans over the counter again. "We're taking room 13," he says, coming up with a key in hand. A physical key—Dean was right about the kind of dump this is. The boy opens his mouth and closes it, and Sam jerks his head at Dean before he gives the boy a half-smile, fake as hell. "Try to stay warm in here, okay?"

The Impala's already inch-thick with snow, outside. "Why the hell did that take so long," Sam mutters.

Dean snorts. "Thirteen?" he says, and Sam nods, folding himself back into the passenger seat for the short drive over—"Center room, more insulation," he says—and when they pull around to the odds side of the building he's right. The city's blanketed in dark and weirdly quiet, with the muffling of the snow, so it feels almost like opening up some hidden hunter's cabin as they unlock the room, unpack the car inside. Sam bought jerky, chips, iffy-looking gas station fruit, and Dean still has one lantern and two spare d-cells and a bottle of whiskey that's almost entirely full, and the water, thank god, is still running. "For how long, though," Sam says, so Dean drags a hand over his face and zips his jacket closed and goes down the row of rooms in the freezing dark to the one that's marked PRIVATE, and breaks in to find cleaning supplies that… clearly haven't been used in that long. Buckets, though, that he rinses out and then fills in the utility sink. Spare bedding on shelves above the laundry machine and he picks out two blankets, the shitty supersoft microfleece kind that have always been his favorite.

When he gets back, burdened like a mule, he finds the room—weirdly sort of homey. Sam's got the lantern on the rickety little desk and it's blasting white light up that wall, but he's lit their spare ritual candles, too, and put them on the nightstand, on top of the blank TV, the minifridge crammed up in the corner by the bathroom. It's warm inside, especially once Dean's got the door kicked closed behind him again, but it won't stay that way for long. "Laundry?" Sam says, and at Dean's nod he disappears outside too, and comes back with a pile of the thin towels in his arms, and packs them in against the bottom of the door, the base of the single-pane windows. The water heaters might be gas but they might be electric, too, and with no way of knowing they take turns in the shower, cleaning up fast. The water's still hot when it's Dean's turn and he luxuriates, for a minute that he counts off in his head, letting the weak stream melt over his shoulders and put heat into his bones, where hopefully it'll stay a while.

The bathroom's steamy when he gets out but it's already cooling fast. Not much insulation in the walls. He dries off scrupulously, trying to get off every bit of damp he can, and redresses by candlelight. Smells like beeswax, the hippie natural candles Sam always picks when they restock their kit. His soulless self didn't bother with that. What a weird thing to turn out to miss.

Back in the room, Sam's made a pile of their food on the desk by the lantern, and lined up the buckets of water by the door. Dean checks his watch: ten o'clock, and they're packed into this room like a bunker. Safe, as warm as they can be, clean and healthy and food to hand. Now there is, truly, nothing at all to do but wait.

"Not even wi-fi," Sam says, under his breath like he had the same thought. Dean huffs. Sam's mouth lifts on one side, wry. He sits on the end of one bed, hands folded between his knees, and gives a shrug. "Well. We got a night off."

They did. About time, too, with how they've been running lately. Sam making up for every bad thing his soulless self ever might've done, and Dean just trying to hold onto the bar so he won't fly off. First time in weeks that Dean's had Sam to himself without Sam searching for another job or trying to pin down his own sad timeline or his brain melting out his ear, and he almost doesn't know what to do with it. A bit of silence, between them, that stretches. Dean licks his lips. "Wanna play charades?"

Sam snorts. "You'd cheat," he says, and Dean smiles his most honest smile, and that makes Sam roll his eyes but smile a little, too. "How long do you think we have until it gets really cold?"

Dean tips his head back and forth, thinking. "It's—what, fifty degrees in here?" Sam shrugs. "I don't know. It'll be friggin' cold in the morning, but we won't freeze."

"Guess not," Sam says, but he's still just sitting there. His eyes on Dean, his body quiet. Dean pours them both cups of the whiskey and sits on the other bed, and Sam rotates to face him, and they toast each other with a rasping papery excuse for a clink and take a swallow each, and it sinks down to Dean's gut like fire, welcome with how chilly it is in here, and Sam's just… still looking at him. Like he's something worth looking at. Dean feels his face go warm and wonders if he can blame the whiskey.

"Hey," Sam says, cup held easy between his knees. "Tell me something."

Dean leans back. "What, truth or dare? We're a little old for that, don't you think?"

His legs are kicked out into the space between the beds. Sam shifts and their boots knock together. "Maybe you are," Sam says, and Dean makes a face at him. Sam smiles and takes another sip, watching Dean over the top of his cup, and after the slight pull at the sting he's still smiling, small. "This last year. Did you ever think about…" He shakes his head, looks down at his cup. Dean nudges his ankle to get him to keep going and Sam looks back up, his hair hanging a little in his eyes. "Did you ever want to sleep with—him?"

Dean's lips part but nothing comes out. He's genuinely surprised. Sam's eyes tighten, a tiny shift that's almost not visible in the dim combination of candle-and-lantern light. "No," Dean says, after a pause that's too long. Sam's head tips back, assessing. "No," Dean repeats, firmer. "It wasn't—right."

Sam hmms and Dean takes a drink. Truth or dare, he really ought to do his forfeit. It's not a lie, not really, but it's not—completely true. Robo-Sam never seemed interested and Dean was still half-caught with Lisa and Dean's a lot of things but a cheater's not one of them, and he'd thought—he didn't know. That Sam didn't want it anymore. Whatever fumbling they'd gotten up to, their drunken stupidity, the almost violent way it'd get sometimes, the way Dean would sink his nails into Sam's back and Sam would bite his throat and then the way, after, sometimes, Sam would look at him in the dark and Dean would think, god—

His cheeks are flushed, hot enough to feel in the cool air. "So," Sam says, after the moment's stretched out, "we never—even when I came back—"

"Not exactly trying to make it with my long-lost brother when my creepy resurrected grandpa's breathing down my neck, no," Dean says, and Sam grimaces but then laughs, and then bites his bottom lip. Still looking at Dean and Dean takes a breath, deep, and thinks, jesus. Eighteen months, more, since the last time, most of it with Sam walking around with no soul, and Dean caught up in a relationship that crashed and burned, and it feels—different. They're both different. Happened somehow when Dean wasn't looking but here's the evidence, in how calm Sam is, in how they're just—quiet, here, together. Something building slow, in the cold, with the snow sifting down outside.

Sam lets his lip go, slow, his teeth dragging white. His eyes drop to Dean's mouth, and lower. "I've got lube," he says. Dean blinks. Sam lifts a shoulder, almost apologetic. "Don't know from what, but it's in my duffle. I've been—wondering."

"Jeez, Sammy," Dean says, and has to laugh, too, kind of breathless. It's hot. Jesus, it's hot, hotter than it should be, to just have Sam say it flat out like that. Asking. "What, you want to huddle for warmth?"

Sam raises his eyebrows, glances sidelong at his bed. "I mean," he says, and Dean has to laugh again. "If there were ever an opportunity—"

Dean leans in and gets Sam's jacket in one hand, and pulls. Sam scoots forward easy, his knee sliding up against Dean's inseam, and it's—easy, weirdly easy, easy in a way it never was, to lean in and press his mouth to Sam's and have Sam just—kiss back, pressing Dean's mouth open right away and brushing his tongue over Dean's lip, slick and hot, his breath warm on Dean's cool skin. "Damn," Dean says, soft.

Sam smiles against his mouth and kisses him again, puts his chilly fingertips against Dean's exposed throat. "I mean, we don't have anything else to do, right?" he says, pulling back an inch.

Dean rolls his eyes and says, "You really gotta learn some better lines."

Sam presses in, kisses him again soft on the mouth. God, Sam's mouth. "I don't think I do," Sam says, hanging there, and Dean groans, pushes Sam's face away, thinks: yes. Yes.

He goes to the bathroom. Takes his time. The toilet, thank god, is still flushing, so the water lines haven't yet gone down. He runs the sink and wets a washrag and cleans up, and washes his hands, and then he licks his mouth wet and looks at himself, in the spotty mirror, the candlelight flickery and making his face strange. When he comes out Sam's stripped the bed closer to the door and the other one is spread with that bedding, the blankets Dean stole, and Sam's in the middle of taking off his belt, standing in his socks with his shirt off and his chest bare and his hair a little ruffled, and he looks up at Dean in the bathroom doorway and smiles, and lays his belt on the bare bed, and says, "C'mere," and Dean comes.

Sam's hands are cold and Dean bitches about that, immediately. "Shut up," Sam advises, and Dean says, "Oh, if anyone needs to—" and Sam kisses him, like Dean knew he would, so that's okay. Together they get Dean's jacket off, his flannel, his t-shirt, and he shivers but Sam's hands drag down his arms and that's so warm Dean can hardly stand it. He drags his fingers through Sam's chest hair—hair, when Sam had been so sleek before—and Sam kisses the top of his ear, weirdly affectionate in a way that makes Dean's chest hot—and then his fingers go for Dean's belt, his jeans, and Dean pushes him away an inch, then, taking a second to breathe.

Sam's—christ. Hot. His nipples pebbled up tight and his cheeks a little pink, even in the candlelight. "Gotta get my boots off, man," Dean says, and Sam looks down like he's surprised that an impediment to getting in Dean's pants might exist, and Dean grins, sits back on the bed. Okay, so. Sam's not suddenly a pure sex god. Somehow that's as much of a relief as the breathing room was.

He works at the knot of his laces. Sam takes the opportunity to strip off his jeans, and then there's his bare long legs, his boxer-briefs. His dick's thick in them, obvious, but while Dean's tugging off his second boot Sam skims them off and down and then he's just—naked, nearly all the way except his stupid black socks he always wears, and Dean huffs and says, "Sexy," dry, but then Sam's kneeling down in front of him, sliding his hands up Dean's thighs, and—well. Truth or dare. Dean wouldn't have to take a drink, this time.

The corner of Sam's mouth lifts and he unzips Dean's jeans, and then tucks his fingers into the waistband, and Dean lifts his ass up and lets Sam pull and Sam—takes his time about it, damn him, pulling down Dean's underwear too so the cold air ripples up goosebumps all the way down Dean's legs, freezing. Sam kisses Dean's chest, his nipple—Dean grabs Sam's head, surprised—and then ducks down, kisses the root of his dick and then sucks in the head, soft and warm, slick, so abrupt that Dean slams a hand down onto the edge of the mattress and his head falls back, his hips lifting. Christ, Sammy. A big hand circles around Dean's calf and Sam sucks, soft, while Dean's dick rises so fast he gets dizzy—and then Sam pulls away, the cold air hitting like a hammer, and lifts up with his mouth pinked-wet and says, "Get in bed," and Dean stares at him like a lunatic for a second and then, jesus, scrambles to obey.

He scooches in to the middle. The blankets are ridiculous, double-weight and heavy, but the sheets are chilly even through his socked feet. Sam climbs in after him and pushes right up against his back, his dick swelling up against Dean's ass, his body a hot shock among the cold. "You're a friggin' furnace," Dean says, and Sam snorts, bites soft at Dean's bare shoulder. There's a second of separation—Sam stretching away—and then Sam's back, under the blankets, kisses under Dean's ear, slides his hand over Dean's hip, down. Dean's breath hitches and he slides his leg forward. "Yeah?" Sam says, the idiot, and Dean says, "Duh, bitch," and there's a huff and then a muffled click and then Sam's fingers are slick, sliding up against his ass, pushing in.

Oh—god. It's been—since the last time. Dean turns his face against the pillow and pulls his leg higher, makes room. Sam's fingers, wet-thick, and the strange uncertain feeling of being broken open, how it pulls and worries, his body barely remembering what to do. Long time. Sweat breaks out at his temples, the middle of his back. He drops a hand to his dick and squeezes, letting it know something better's coming.

"You're tight," Sam says. Unnecessarily, in Dean's opinion. "You really, you never—?"

"Some things should be kept between a man and his hour-long showers, Sammy," Dean says, light, and it's not really true but Sam huffs another little laugh and kisses his ear, and Dean pops his leg up instead even though that makes a cool cavern of air under the covers, giving Sam the room to work him. He pushes back, pulls at his dick, works it fat, and against his ass Sam's dick feels full, ready. He always liked this part, the part where he made Dean want it. He turns his head and says, "Sam," and Sam lifts up and kisses him just like he wanted, his chest warm against Dean's shoulder and his fingers spreading deep, pushing the slick inside where they need it, and while he's kissing Dean and relearning every molar Dean feels the fingers slip out, rubbing instead at Dean's hole where it's hot now, wet, flexing. He drags in air through his nose and reaches behind himself, finding Sam fat and heavy. Thick. Jesus, he could never forget how thick.

"Ready?" Sam says and that's a stupid question. Dean tugs the blankets higher with his free hand, covering his shoulder against the cold, snubs Sam up against himself and then lets go, finds Sam's hip, pulls—and Sam takes over, holding Dean's belly as he pushes inside, and Dean tries to contain the flinch but can't and Sam kisses his temple, soft, and his ear, and his neck, and doesn't stop, bulling open that place for himself, splitting Dean wide. His pubes press against Dean's ass. Dean grips the pillow and lets his knee sink down and immediately what's already tight is tighter, closer. Sam grunts against him, slides his hand down to find Dean's half-wilted dick. "You feel—" Sam starts, but he squeezes Dean's dick instead of saying, and Dean's fine with that, he doesn't need compliments when he just needs Sam to—

"Move," he says, and Sam moves.

It's slow, from being on their sides. No real force behind it. Dean knocks Sam's hand away from his dick and Sam squeezes his balls instead, and then slips a hand to the inside of his thigh and keeps him close that way, locking Dean in place to be fucked. He's still tight but he's loosening up, from the thick rocking churn of Sam inside him, buried up to the root half the time, flexing in and making Dean stretch for him, forcing in that deep good ache of being open, slick for it. With the underhand grip on Dean's thigh his thumb slots in right at the base of Dean's dick, a soft dragging pressure every time Sam squeezes, and Dean can hardly think for how good it all feels. For how much he missed it and pretended for so long he wasn't missing it. Sam's other arm is tucked under the pillow, under his head, and he manages to shove the pillow away enough that he gets bare skin and bites there, soft in Sam's bicep, and Sam drags in air through his teeth and pushes in harder, the wet drag enough that Dean shudders, shoulders to hips, and Sam squeezes his thigh so hard that it hurts.

If it weren't so damn cold Dean would want to throw the blankets off—get on his back with Sam between his legs—lift up, ride, to remember the way Sam's eyes went so dark and hot and intense from seeing Dean get off on him. As it is he feels it building slow, the sweat between them starting to get oppressive, his throat a little abraded from the way Sam keeps dragging his teeth over it, his breath hot there where Dean's skin's so wet. He clenches inside, as much as he can when he's split wide like this, and Sam grunts, warm burst of air against the back of his ear. "Fuck," Dean says, squirming back. He presses his knees together and Sam feels even thicker, his hand caught between Dean's thighs. "Fuck, Sammy—"

"God, I want to come," Sam says, and Dean jerks, caught against him, his dick spitting. Sam worms his hand out and cups Dean's nuts, rubs warm at the root of his dick, his lips smearing against Dean's neck. "God, you're—are you close?"

"Out of practice," Dean says, breathily light, like that's even fucking remotely true. "Can't you tell?" Sam's hand pulls up, fisting his dick, and Dean arches as much as he can, shoving down onto Sam, his teeth floating on this feeling. His gut's molten. "Fuck—Sam, if you—"

"I have to," Sam says, thin, and pushes—Dean tips over and Sam slides, god, out, but in a second he's covering Dean's back and Dean's spreading as wide as he can and Sam slots right back inside, hard, and Dean drags in air against the mattress but doesn't really care, doesn't need it. Sam's pumping inside, fast and deep, the jolting drag of it sliding all over exactly where Dean wants him, and Sam's hands slip from Dean's sides to his hip to his shoulders, holding him in place, and Dean worms a hand between the bed and his dick and lets Sam shove him into his own grip, the rhythm perfect, perfect—Sam's mouth hot against the knob of his spine—and Dean comes pulsing into his own hand, his toes curling and his lips spread against the sheet and his whole body locking up, it feels like, tense, unloading—and Sam groans, shoves his hand between them to feel the mess Dean's making, says, "Fuck, you're—fuck, you're so hot, Dean, the hottest I ever—" and gets a hand on Dean's ass and pulls it wider, shoves in harder, for a shocking minute where it almost hurts except that Dean's so floaty and satisfied he'd take a knife in his flesh and wouldn't mind—and when Sam finally comes he presses right up inside and pumps it deep, forcing it in, and Dean sighs against the bed, overheated and wet, and lets go of his own dick enough that he can tangle his fingers with Sam's, slick, crumpled, bone to bone.

Sam's a deadweight on his back. Dean turns his face against the sheet and gets a pocket of slightly cooler air, content to take it. He squeezes Sam's fingers and in response Sam squeezes his hip, and then slowly, slowly, his lips brush the back of Dean's ear, and then Dean's cheek. "Wow," Sam says, quiet, and Dean snorts. A shift, inside, that makes Dean open his eyes wide—oh, he's open now but it feels—and one of Sam's knees slips over to the outside of Dean's, different leverage, as he pushes in again on all the wet he made, and in again, still thick. Dean licks his lips and it's so quiet he can hear the wet noise it makes—match, to when Sam pulls out—a spill, trickling down over Dean's balls—and then the squelch as he pushes back in and makes Dean grip the pillow, makes his nuts pulse in heated shock.

"I could go again right now," Sam says, low against his ear, entirely honest.

Dean has to take a deep breath. "Don't press your luck," he says, raw, and Sam laughs quiet, drags out again—still hard, christ above—and tugs at Dean's shoulder, and turns him over in a messy sheet-tangling pull, and gets them the right way around to kiss, full, open, Dean's hands on Sam's waist and the bed smeary and disgusting, between them.

When Dean pulls away, Sam's got his fingers curled around the back of his ear, his dick warm and full up against Dean's hip. He smiles, looking back at Dean in the barely-light. Dean smiles back, kind of helpless. "We really wrecked this bed," Dean says. Just for something to say.

Sam's shoulder lifts. "Heated it up, though," he says, and, well. He's not wrong.

The candles are still lit, and they'll have to take care of those so they don't burn the damn room down. The lantern, too—they shouldn't waste the batteries. There's a slit in the blankets somewhere, cool air pouring in over Dean's back, and he tugs, and Sam gets it and helps him smooth them out, making a cocoon for the two of them. The discarded lube bottle ends up under Dean's back and he slides it up under the pillow, for hopeful future use. Their socked toes bump together. Sam's nose is cold, where it bumps Dean's cheek, but that's all right. Dean's not in a state to mind.

"It's gonna suck to dig out the car in the morning," Sam says, out of nowhere.

Dean closes his eyes and pulls at Sam's waist, getting him closer. Sam's knee slides between his thighs. "That's what I missed about you, man," he says, drowsy. "You always know what to say to get me hot."

Sam snorts. His knuckles drag over Dean's jaw, safe and warm.

#ffcc #wincest #bedsharing #huddling for warmth #my writing

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lastoneout · 7 months ago

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Yeah, it's alright I guess? It doesn't taste quite as bad as cheesecake itself to me, and it does depend on the context 'cuz like I used to enjoy a good cinnamon roll from time to time but I couldn't stand it on carrot cake, I'd scrape the frosting off, so yeah overall it's like....it's just not that good? It tastes like cheesecake to the left and I'd almost always rather have something else.

But also I genuinely just don't have a huge sweet tooth in the first place? I like baking and I do eat candy and chocolate but sweet as a flavor isn't really something I seek out on it's own, and when I do it's either because I want something that happens to be sweet for a different reason and the sweet flavor is just a bonus or I just buy something sweet and then only have a little before getting tired of it. There has to be a special texture or extra flavor or something drawing me to it, sweet for sweets sake just doesn't do it for me. Like my favorite pastry is banana bread, I like the crust of sweet pies more than the filling, I would pick the frosting off of my pop-tarts or scrape the extra frosting off of cake as a kid and I never used the frosting pack with my toaster strudel, I like unfilled doughnuts with just powdered sugar, no glaze, I like flourless chocolate cake mostly for the texture, I didn't even KNOW you were supposed to put sugar in homemade whipped cream for most of my life, I'm just not a huge sweets person.

I do feel bad tho. My brother really loves cheesecake and he's made tons of them and always has me try some bcs he's convinced if I try a good enough one I'll like it...but like yeah the fact that it's cheesecake in the first place is the problem. You would have to completely remove several core ingredients to get rid of the part I don't like, and at that point why even bother, you know? Besides, this means there's all the more cheesecake for the people who do like it! Eat up! I sure as hell won't be!

Listen I will accept that some rare combinations of sweet and savory are good but I draw the line at cream cheese. That shit goes on fish, or in a nice egg scramble. Making it sweet ruins it.

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years ago

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Enjoy the Present (1k, 14x15 ‘The Last Holiday’ coda, Destiel, Dean, Sam, Jack, & Cas)

(ao3)

Sam had a birthday, Jack had a birthday...

It would only be fitting for Dean to have one, too. It's expected, really. Yet the one Sam and Jack throw him still catches him by surprise. Maybe because he actually agreed with Butters, about having outgrowned birthdays. Or because his thoughts were pulled elsewhere because of some disappointing news.

If it's the latter, than a birthday will definitely take his mind off of that. Especially when it comes time for his present.

Dean rereads Sam’s message as he walks into the Bunker’s main room. “Sammy!” he yells, “I’m here. What’s so damn urgent that you…” He trails off, catching sight of his brother and Jack, both adorned in festive gear. Tiny cardboard party hats sat atop their heads, colorful party beads hung around their necks, and party horns that announced his entrance. Them, as well as the single balloon tied to a chair and a covered cake platter, reveal Sam’s true intentions. “Oh no,” he sighs, tiredly chuckling, “really?”

“Yes, really,” Sam says, Jack still blowing madly in the background, “it’s your turn.”

“But we celebrated Jack’s birthday, like, a day ago.”

“Three, actually.” Sam pulls the chair back, gesturing Dean forward. He relents, taking the seat of honor. Jack attacks a second after he’s settled, threading the ‘Birthday Boy’ headband through his hair. “Figured that was enough time for you to let your guard down.”

He rolls his eyes but does not disagree with Sam’s statement. There were no faults that he could nitpick. Dean thought they were more than satisfied with the crash course of holidays Mrs. Butters put them through. That she left before his birthday, Dean hadn’t minded. She was right, in a sense, about how at his age there’s no point in celebrating one. But seeing Sam and Jack do this, it reminds him why he wanted one anyway. Makes him grateful despite the disappointment he suffered earlier in the day.

Dean won’t focus on the missing space in their group, however. It might be his party, but he knows crying would kill the mood faster than their radar could ping a monster.

“Well,” he claps his hands, staring at the platter in front of him, “show me what you got.”

Jack unveils the cake, beaming. “I made it,” he tells Dean, “to return the favor.”

“You didn’t have to do that –“

“But I wanted to,” Jack continues, setting the cover aside. “It’s… not the first cake I made today. The third, actually. I hope you like it.”

The green-frosted dessert slides a bit, top half slanted and unbalanced. ‘Happy Birthday Dean’ scrawled so messily he only knows what it meant given context clues. He swipes a finger across the side, taking frosting and crumbs of cake with him. Of all the cakes Dean saw, Jack’s… is here.

Dean cannot judge too critically, having his own difficulties with cakes. When making Jack’s cake Dean certainly stumbled. Not greasing the pan enough, batter barely enough for two layers, frosting used as both decoration and glue. It turned out well though. Moist, fluffy, and rich. Dean saw himself baking more cakes in the future, perhaps when things have quieted down. He and Jack can learn together.

“It looks great, kid,” Dean says, squeezing his wrist. “Why don’t we jab a candle in there so we can get to eating it!”

Sam clears his throat, wincing. “About that…” he laughs, holding an unlit candle out. “Why don’t we just light it and you blow without having it… ruin the cake.” As if hearing Sam, Jack’s creation sinks further. Depressed at not participating with this tradition.

Dean agrees, taking the candle from Sam. Jack taps it with his finger, lighting it. “Make a wish Dean!” he says, stepping back.

A wish. There’s so much on his mind, that he could ask. Past the age of actually believing in wishes, Dean wonders if he should shoot for the stars. A quick end to their Chuck problem. An island retreat where Dean can grow old at. Superpowers and a kick-ass costume and shield. He spends so long thinking, the wax drips and burns his fingers. Chastising him for not taking it seriously.

Reflecting again on what he wants, the answer is obvious. Dean closes his eyes and blows the flame out. “Okay,” he hands Jack the candle, “now can we dig into the –“

Creeaaak

Dean pauses, the front door opening above him. He looks up, on the edge of his seat. Doubtful. Wishing on a candle never works, especially that fast. But Sam and Jack exchanged twin looks that reeked of smugness, like they knew who this guest was. There’s only a short list of people it could be. Dean dare not hope…

Cas meets his gaze from the balcony, a red bow wrapped around him like a sash. “Happy birthday, Dean,” he says, eyes crinkling from the weight of his smile, “I hope I’m not too late.”

There’s no cake. No balloon. No party hats, beads or horns. Dean stands with enough force the chair topples over. “Cas,” he says, grin threatening to crack his face in twain. Voice raw with too much feeling. “What are… I thought you weren’t coming back today?”

It ruined his entire morning. Waking, a voicemail on his phone from Cas about being delayed by a possible lead. Dean knew it was important for their mission, but the rejection stung. He went about in a haze, restructuring for another day without Cas. Holding off on the Dean Cave, the stack of movies he left there pointless without the other man. And why would he wash Baby when Cas promised Dean it’d be something they do together for once.

The sun, having risen, continued across the sky. And Cas descended the stairs towards Dean. “It was Sam’s idea,” he explains, “that you might… appreciate the surprise. I’m sorry if I caused any undue worry, or stress –“

Dean wraps his arms around Cas, nuzzling against his cheek. “Glad you’re here man,” he whispers, “every time you leave, the more I want you to come back.”

“Dean,” Cas sighs, his hands tight on Dean’s waist. “Leaving has become increasingly difficult. Because I’d rather be here, with you, more than anything.”

This is the moment. He knows it. His bones shake, and skin itches, because all that Dean hopes, fears, and feels has culminated for this brief second where Dean can finally put them all into words and be confident how Cas will respond.

Except the second slips by. Dean leans back, Sam and Jack invading their space. “So,” he smirks, brows waggling, “you like my present?”

Another time. There’ll be another chance. When they’re alone and can carry on uninterrupted. Maybe in the backseat of his Baby, heaven knows it’s been years since she’s seen something beautiful and bloodless.

Dean lays his hands on Cas’s shoulders, smiling. “The best damn birthday present I’ve ever gotten, Sammy.”

#supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn coda #14x15 the last holiday #14x15 coda #dean winchester #sam winchester #jack kline #castiel #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic

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jaimehwatson · 3 years ago

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I made another Snowpiercer playlist!

After posting my Wilford/Audrey playlist a while ago, I added some songs that didn’t quite make the cut to a different playlist, intending to put together another similar one. But rather than focusing on just one ship this time, I also ended up getting really interested in theorizing about what Wilford’s relationship with Melanie might have been like before the Freeze, and exploring the idea that maybe there was something going on there and some kind of love triangle with Audrey.

So here’s my new playlist, full of absolute jams that could apply to any combination of relationships involving Wilford, Audrey, and Melanie, and/or just general Snowpiercer vibes! Read on for more detail about the songs I selected, and as before, content warning for references to canon abuse & self-harm/suicide.

1. “The Tradition” by Halsey

Oh, the loneliеst girl in town Was bought for plenty a price Well, they dress her up in golden crowns His smile hides a lie

She smiles back, but it's a fact That her fear will eat her alive Well, she got the life that she wanted But now all she does is cry

Thanks @onetrainsnowpiercer for getting me into this excellent album! I thought it would be fitting to kick off the playlist with one that could suit the earlier days of Wilford’s relationship with Audrey, like my previous playlist was more focused on.

2. “cardigan” by Taylor Swift

'Cause I knew you Steppin' on the last train Marked me like a bloodstain, I

I knew you Tried to change the ending Peter losing Wendy, I

I knew you Leavin' like a father Running like water, I And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

Did you think I would make a Snowpiercer playlist without Taylor Swift on it? Not a chance. I picture this one being more from Melanie’s perspective, reflecting on possibly having had some kind of ill-fated romance with Wilford when she was young and naive.

3. “No Children” by The Mountain Goats

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow I hope it bleeds all day long Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises We're pretty sure they're all wrong

I hope it stays dark forever I hope the worst isn't over And I hope you blink before I do And I hope I never get sober

The only reason this perennial favourite of mine wasn’t on the first playlist was that I had too many Mountain Goats songs already and wanted to keep things balanced. But this one got all the ones that didn’t make it to the first playlist plus some more I thought about later, so I’m kind of giving up on that balance by now. They just have a lot of great songs about terrible relationships, and I love them all so much.

4. “Gold Guns Girls” by Metric

I remember when we were gambling to win Everybody else said, "Better luck next time." I don't wanna bend like the bad girls bend I just wanna be your friend Is it ever gonna be enough?

This is another one that I can picture being about young Melanie, gradually growing more aware of everything that’s terribly wrong with Wilford and his approach to life, and of how little he cares to try to fix it.

5. “You’ve Haunted Me All My Life” by Death Cab for Cutie

And there's a flaw in my heart's design For I keep trying to make you mine

You've haunted me all my life You've haunted me all my life You are the mistress I can't make a wife And you've haunted me all my life

And this one I can see being Wilford thinking about either one of the women, and his unhealthy attachment to them and inability to keep them around for very long—maybe once he’s finally reunited with them both on some level in season 2, but still can’t fully persuade them both over to his side.

6. “Old College Try” by The Mountain Goats

From the cities to the swamplands From the highways to the hills Our love has never had a leg to stand on From the aspirins to the cross-tops to the Elavils

But I will walk down to the end with you If you will come all the way down with me

Another Mountain Goats classic. If you divorce it from its context of being from a concept album about a horrible marriage, I actually think this song is kind of sweet in the way it describes a couple still committing to try to make things work despite a whole host of problems. But never mind that now, because I’m putting it back in the new context of a whole collection of horrible romantic relationships!

7. “Risk” by Metric

So you're beaten up but you bounce back It’s all part of the pull And the story runs like a soundtrack We repeat 'til we're full Started slow, started late Started strong, then we lost faith Started slow, started to lose control The more we accelerate, the more we accelerate

Half of arranging any playlist I make is just trying to split up the Mountain Goats and Metric songs so that they aren’t always clumped together. Anyway, this one seems especially fitting to me in its imagery of a speeding vehicle of some kind (it’s a train, I’m always picturing a train) alongside its description of a relationship going badly.

8. “Big God” by Florence + The Machine

You know I still like you the most The best of the best and the worst of the worst Well, you can never know The places that I go I still like you the most You'll always be my favourite ghost

I think this one could be any one of the three of them contemplating their complex feelings about the past at some point around season 2.

9. “I Still Do” by The Cranberries

I don't want to leave you Even though I have to I don't want to love you Oh, I still do

There aren’t as many specifics that match the characters going on in the lyrics here, since it’s more of just a general break-up song, but I also really like the creepy way it sounds.

10. “Fault Lines” by The Mountain Goats

But none of the money we spend Seems to do us much good in the end I got a cracked engine block, both of us do

Yeah, the house and the jewels, the Italian racecar They don't make us feel better about who we are I got termites in the framework, so do you

This one feels really fitting for pre-Freeze Wilford, especially the engine imagery!

11. “I Don’t Care” by Fall Out Boy

Say my name and his in the same breath I dare you to say they taste the same Let the leaves fall off in the summer And let December glow in flames

Erase myself and let go Start it over again in Mexico These friends, they don't love you They just love the hotel suites

Another song that is simply a) an absolute jam, and b) generally fitting for my favourite obscenely rich asshole and his terrible relationships

12. “You asked for this” by Halsey

I want my cake on a silver platter I want a fistful in my hands I want a beautiful boy's despondent laughter I wanna ruin all my plans I want a fist around my throat I wanna cry so hard, I choke I want everything I asked for

This one I can picture as Audrey—or maybe Melanie too, but especially Audrey—beginning to regret getting involved with Wilford, but only once she’s in way too deep for leaving to be a safe or easy decision.

13. “my tears ricochet” by Taylor Swift

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

Much like several other Taylor Swift songs, I just know in my heart that it’s the type of music Wilford listens to in secret, while possibly drunk and definitely singing along very dramatically. This one he dedicates to Melanie once they’ve met up again in season 2.

14. “Speed the Collapse” by Metric

All the way from where we came Built a mansion in a day Distant lightning, thunder claps Watched our neighbor's house collapse Looked the other way

This one has a lot of good apocalyptic imagery that I can imagine scoring Wilford’s life in the last few years before the Freeze, as he makes his plans to save himself and let so many others die.

15. “Ox Baker Triumphant” by The Mountain Goats

I will thank my ride and crawl my way back inside To the guts of the building where my enemies Hide in the dark like roaches And I will signal the camera crew and everyone will do What he's been trained how to do Sweat dripping from my face as my moment approaches

Click your heels, count to three I bet you never expected me A little worse for wear Practically walking on air

I love this song a lot, and listening to it lately makes me imagine Wilford plotting his revenge while on his way to catch up with Snowpiercer before the end of season 1.

16. “Firewood” by Regina Spektor

The piano is not firewood yet But the cold does get cold So it soon might be that I'll take it apart, call up my friends And we'll warm up our hands by the fire

Don't look so shocked Don't judge so harsh You don't know You’re only spying Everyone knows it's going to hurt But at least we'll get hurt trying

This has to be one of my favourite songs of all time. It’s very beautiful, and I love the piano in it. I’ve always personally interpreted it to be at least partially about someone surviving a suicide attempt, and the overall imagery about burning a piano for warmth—and this bit about not judging someone for doing that—reads to me as more of a general statement about the difficult choices people struggling with mental illness and other similar issues have to make to survive. I listened to it recently and I could picture Audrey singing it in the nightcar. I think it suits her well.

17. “Cry for Judas” by The Mountain Goats

But I am just a broken machine And I do things that I don't really mean Long, black night Morning frost I'm still here But all is lost

I think the imagery of this song suits the show a lot in general, but I can also particularly imagine it being Wilford in a rare moment of self-awareness about how much damage he’s caused to the world and the people around him.

18. “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide” by David Bowie

Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth You pull on your finger, then another finger, then your cigarette The wall-to-wall is calling, it lingers, then you forget Oh oh, oh, oh, you're a rock 'n' roll suicide

I love Wilford a lot. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him ever. I hope he kills more people, and I hope he gets his train back, and I hope he wins. But if he does eventually die in the show, I hope he’s found in the bathtub with there being some ambiguity about whether he really killed himself or whether one of his victims turned the tables on him, and I hope the climax of this song swells as the camera pans over his dead body. That’s the only Wilford death I will accept, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

19. “Source Decay” by The Mountain Goats

I park in an alley And I read through the postcards you continue to send Where as indirectly as you can, you ask what I remember I like these torture devices from my old best friend Well, I'll tell you what I know, like I swore I always would I don't think it's gonna do you any good I remember the train headed south out of Bangkok Down toward the water

Okay, I promise this is the last Mountain Goats song on the playlist. It’s just—it’s perfect. It has a train in it. And on the podcast “I Only Listen To The Mountain Goats,” John Darnielle commented that there’s barely anywhere you can go south of Bangkok before you hit the water, it’s a train going nowhere, it’s so good. It’s also one of the songs I’ve previously ripped a line off for my fanfiction titles!

20. “Sellers of Flowers” by Regina Spektor

The sellers of flowers Buy up old roses They pull off dead petals Like old heads of lettuce And sell ’em as new ones For cheaper and fairer But they die by the morning So who is the winner? Not the roses Not the buyers Not the sellers Maybe winter

And Regina Spektor closes out the playlist again! This song is another one I picked more on imagery and vibes than anything else. But since it’s about a young child in a world that seems to be moving inexorably toward an all-consuming winter, if it suits any of the characters, maybe it’s an appearance of Alex here at the end!

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the playlist!

#snowpiercer #wilford #music #snowpiercer tv

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dasphinxone · 4 years ago

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Book of Nile: Cabin Fever WIP

Like, I need to SIT DOWN AND WRITE THIS OUT INSTEAD OF DOING SNIPPETS THO. I’m sorry y’all, I swear I’m writing a full fic of this. Please don’t kill me.

Booker wanders over and starts organizing the ingredients by type on the dark, marble top counter of the kitchen island. Spices are put together, other dry ingredients lined up. He takes out the carton of eggs from the fridge.

“How many eggs do you need?” he looks to Nile next to him.

“Just one,” comes her muffled voice from where she’s leaning over to take full stock of the lower shelves of the pantry.

He diverts his eyes from the sight of her lean legs and her behind clad in short sleeping shorts. Her braids are piled into a cute, messy bun on top of her head. She already has on one of the aprons she found hanging on a hook in the broom closet. How one of his heavily knit, grey cardigans hangs billowy off of her frame over her shorts and tank top sends his heart beating faster.

She’s always borrowing his clothes. Usually it’s his array of denim shirts or old t-shirts that she cuts down at the bottom to fit her. Yet something about seeing her using his sweater as a robe while baking for him? It screams domesticity.

Booker startles at the feel of Nile’s touch to his arm. “I’m thinking a gingerbread cake? Or cupcakes, if we have a muffin tin,” she frowns in contemplation. “Christmas is just around the corner and gingerbread cookies are so blasé, you know?”

His face lights up. “I think I can legitimately say that I have never had gingerbread in cake form.”

“You are definitely in for a treat!” she playfully taps him on the shoulder with a spatula she’s dug up. “It’ll go faster since Copley hooked this place up with the KitchenMade stand mixer to boot. Though you’re going to have to make a hard decision for me, Book.”

He can’t ever seem to say no to her. Not especially with that beautiful smile lighting up her face. For fuck’s sake, she’s wearing his sweater like she owns it.

He rapidly blinks away any fantasies of how incredible she would look wearing just the sweater by itself. The way it would cling to her curve. Teasing him with barely contained views of her beautifully dark, warm skin. Skin that would glisten with sweat after he’s fucked her up against the wall next to the fridge. Her legs wrapped around his waist and heels digging into his ass while she mercilessly tugs at his hair and calls out his real name. All after he’s balanced her on his shoulders while he’s on his knees, devouring her pussy like he’s on a mission to make her scream and forget anyone else who’s come before him…

Stop it, you fucking pervert! he scolds himself in his native language.

He rapidly drags a bar stool from the counter to the kitchen island and settles in. Mostly so that she can’t see that he’s already half hard. His black sweatpants don’t hide much.

“What would you have of me, mademoiselle?” he bows his head with a flourish of his hand. When he looks back up, she’s beaming even more.

“Soooo, do you mind having your bagels dry or just with butter in the morning versus with cream cheese?” she holds up two packets of it.

Booker purposely curls his mouth in contemplation. “What do I have to gain from the absence of it on said bagel?”

“Cream cheese frosting for the cupcakes?” she pulls a muffin tin from the cabinet of the island and waves it at him.

Booker arches a brow and leans an elbow on the counter to rest his head in his hand. “Well,” he drawls out, “If you insist on spoiling me with cupcakes ma cher,” he sighs with supposed annoyance, “I guess I shall have to acquiesce. You may proceed,” he waves in dismissal.

Of course, Nile sees how he’s barely holding in a laugh. “Frosting it is!” she declares. Leaning over the island, she brushes her lips to his stubbled cheek while patting his other one with her free hand. “I knew there was a reason why I love you.”

Booker freezes at her declaration as Nile spins back around to the opposite counter to start. She’s greasing the muffin tin, putting the paper cups into them, spraying those with cooking spray and beginning to hum to herself as she usually does when doing this sort of thing. She appears thoroughly unaffected by what she’s just said. Shimmying her shoulders, she asks if he can fire up one of her playlists from the cloud on his laptop. He’s always had access to her music account, so the request isn’t out of the ordinary.

He's glad he has the excuse to exit the area and go grab his laptop from the den. He’s in need of doing a few deep breathing exercises his various therapists over the years have taught him to do whenever he gets overwhelmed. Except it’s always for the bad sort of overwhelmed. Not a “Oh my fucking God, this woman has just declared she loves me…except I don’t think she meant it in that sort of context? MERDE, I DON’T FUCKING KNOW.”

Either way, Booker all but flees the kitchen.

Nile is glad of it. Because FUCK, she just said she loves him. And yeah, she meant it in a “After all of these decades of having your fine ass so devoted to me and watching my six at all times and sharing beds with you since we're the spares and you willingly helping me do my braids and twists installations for hours on end without being all white boy weird about it? I think I could love you for the near eternity we have together. Plus, I think you’re pretty damn capable of fucking ruining me in bed with your, uh, fucking.”

Nile plants her hands on the countertop and drops her head between her shoulders. Her heart is beating fast in her ears and her skin’s tingling. It’s not fear adrenaline coursing through her. Yet it’s also not quite the effervescent sort of high either. It’s all topsy-turvy, confusing feelings that she doesn’t like. Not because she’s afraid of emotions. More that she can’t sort them out at the damn moment. Combined with the fact that it’s just the two of them in this dream of a cabin? For these next few days to up to weeks, depending on the blizzard? That will be…interesting?

Or a fucking disaster where we end up hating each other but are stuck in the same rooms with no escape, she muses to herself.

She’s frozen to death a handful of times. It’s not a bad way to go; after the numbness sets in and you can’t feel your limbs, you just sort of drift off only to wake from death. However, literally catching one’s death of cold in the middle of a snowy storm in the forest would suck due to the lack of relief from dying over and over again. Sure, she could technically leave if things went horribly between them. Yet that would be a stupid as shit decision.

“Are you alright?”

Nile spins around to find Booker once again sitting on one of the barstools up against the opposite counter. Only now does she notice the music playing over the Bluetooth speakers of the small holo-TV mounted on a wall of the kitchen. It’s her favorite playlist, R&B from the 2010s when she grew up. No matter that the music is nearly 200 years old now, it wraps her in a warm aural blanket of comfort. Meanwhile, Booker looks non-plussed and focused on the screen of his laptop before he looks up at her. His azure eyes full of concern, he scans around the kitchen.

“You sound like you’re having trouble with something.”

She swiftly plasters a wide smile on her face and stabs a finger down at the screen of her holotablet. “There’s a lot of steps of this recipe-”

“I’ll help,” he cuts her off while scrambling up from his chair, “Anything you need, you want, I can, I mean I will do it.”

I’d like for you to eat me out on your knees and fuck me up against one of these counters.

Nile swallows, trying to rid herself of the filthy thought. The thing is, he’s wearing this light blue Henley that’s so tight across his chest that it doesn’t look like he could close up the buttons of it even if he wanted to. There’s a teasing peek of dark blonde chest hair at the low V of the shirt’s neckline she’s struggling to not stare at. On top of that, he’s had the nerve to shove up the sleeves to reveal his forearms.

Instead, Nile closes her eyes and takes a few deep breathes. She hopes it comes off as annoyed with the recipe versus reigning in her self-control to not just jump him and climb him like a tree.

“The recipe calls for making gingerbread men to use to decorate the cupcakes with, though it’s not necessary,” she breathes out. “Did you want to go the hard or easy route for this recipe?”

Booker grins, eyes meeting hers. “À la dure,” he drawls.

“The hard way?” Nile translates, hoping her breath doesn’t hitch. Is he doing some sort of double-entendre thing just to fuck with her?

He shrugs. “It’s not as though we don’t have the time.” Moving around the counter to saunter up to her side, he looks down at her holotablet. “You far outdo me when it comes to baking, but I think I can manage cookies.” He opens a new tab and searches for a gingerbread cookie recipe. Finding one, he quickly reads over it. “So long as you can ice them?” he holds up the tablet for her to take in the cute picture.

Nile slightly steps away from him. Mostly on account that he smells so good (fresh soap…is that a hint of his usual spicy, citrusy cologne?) and feels so warm with one of his arms flush to hers. “We don’t have cookie cutters here, but you can bake them round and we can ice faces or ornaments on them.”

“It’s a deal,” he holds out a hand to shake hers.

Looks like their project for this afternoon is set.

#book of nile #booker x nile #nile freeman #sebastien le livre #Booker #booker le livre #the old guard #tog #nile x booker #people being cute while baking is a thing for me apparently

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soldrawss · 4 years ago

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Does Big Bro!Mikey AU have an april or no? I think it would be nice for Mikey to have a bff april!!

April is a part of this au, yes! She started out as just a classmate of Mikey’s, they had the same homeroom in high school before Mikey dropped out the summer before his Junior year. They hadn’t really kept in contact, mostly because she only knew him by proxy (Mikey was nice and friendly to everyone, April of course included, but they didn’t have much in common, and their main friend groups were different, so they didn’t hang out much) and when Mikey all but disappeared without an explanation, she kinda just figured he moved or something, and left it at that, not giving him any thought for the next three years.

That is, until she meets him again, in the halls of Hunter College, looking like he was gonna collapse at any minute, which he kinda does, into an empty bench at the schools outside cafe and lounge area. April waffles for a few seconds, because ‘holy shit is that Mike Hamato?’ before biting the bullet and making her way over to say, “Hey, Michael right? Hi, it’s been a while. It’s April, we had homeroom together freshman and sophomore year. I haven’t seen you since Savanti Romero’s pool party. How are you?” And his smile is a slow, automatic thing at first, more out of common politeness than anything else, but then it grows into something much more genuine and glacier melting when he responds back, “April, hey, yeah, hi! Wow, has it really been that long? Man, it seems like just yesterday you were fishing Mondo and me out of the pool after one too many chicken fights. It’s good to see you!”

And catching up seemed so easy, April was almost surprised they hadn’t been better friends in high school. Though, she suspected that was mostly due to Mikey’s incredibly easy charm and naturally inviting warmth. (Dude could make friends with just about anyone)

He was a little different than how she remembered, a little more weather-worn and tired, a kinda weariness that hung off his shoulders like heavyweights. But there was still a bright shine to those penny-colored eyes, and when he smiled, it was with all the dimples and joy that she remembers so clearly from when she was 15. Holding back a laugh at the Hamato kid that was preforming springing handstands across the cafeteria just to draw attention away from the impending fight between two of their more hotheaded classmates and ease the tension out of the air in a ridiculous but effective manner.

She doesn’t ask why he left high school, it doesn’t really occur to her to ask, but after 2 hours of talking (April not even realizing she was missing her history class because she was so caught up in their catching up) he offers the information anyway.

His dad died. When he was barely 16, and he was left alone with 3 baby brothers and no other family that could help take care of them, and oh my god, he just dropped out of school to get his GED like it was the most common thing in the world and he went to work, what, 2, sometimes 3 jobs just to make enough money to support them all and April didn’t mean for tears to start pooling up because that so wasn’t fair to Mikey at all, if anyone should be crying, it should be him, but Mikey just looks a little shy and bashful about it all. “It was hard, but we got through it. And hey, now I’m working at like, this really prestigious Italian restaurant, super classy and everything! And they pay me more than I’m probably worth, but I’ll get my culinary degree in like a year, and then after that, a lot of things will change,” He says like everything in the world is just that easy, handing April a few tissues from his book bag and giving her one of those genuine, if not a little crooked, smiles of his.

Mikey promises to have lunch with her again (because April absolutely refuses to let this dandelion haired lunatic walk away from her life a second time and practically demands that they hang out again) since they both have the same free time before their respective classes at the college, and makes a show of saving her number with probably a few too many emojis as a contact name just to make her smile.

And what turned into a promise for another lunch date turned into almost a daily routine, them having lunch together on the bench, talking about classes and teachers and jobs and April’s problematic little kitten she affectionately named Mayhem and Mikey’s little brothers who are probably equally as problematic but he doesn’t have a say in what their names are, and things are fun and casual between Hamato and her.

That is, until two months later, when April gets a call from Mikey at 5pm on a Saturday.

“Donnie’s sick,” Mikey says almost breathlessly, and even without the context, April was already springing to her feet just at the sheer tension and concern in Mikey’s voice, like a taught wire about to snap. “I can’t get off work for another few hours, but I don’t want to leave him by himself with a fever. And I know this is like, putting you on the spot and really awkward and you can totally say no if you want to, but I don’t know who else to call and,-”

“Mike, it’s ok. Breathe hun,” April is saying, not unkindly pushing Mayhem off her lap and reaching for her backpack off the floor in her dorm room, stuffing a few random things in it before grabbing her jacket and her car keys off the counter. “Text me your address. I’ll be over there in 5 minutes tops.”

And it’s more of a promise than a fact, because his building is technically 20 minutes away from hers, but April makes it in 10 just by spite alone (and maybe driving a little recklessly downtown) and knocks on the door of the little apartment on the 6th floor, unit 404.

It takes a hesitant second, but then the door lock clicks open and April is greeted by warm brown eyes and a freckled face that reminds April so much of Mikey that it takes her almost a full 10 seconds before she introduces herself with an automatic smile. “Hi sweetheart, I’m April. I’m a friend of your older brother Mikey.”

Raphael, if April remembered Mikey’s brothers correctly, didn’t really need much convincing to let April in after she mentioned he was a friend of Mikey's, and doesn’t hesitate to pull her into their little apartment, leading her to the bedroom that the twins share with a small but tight little fist around hers.

“Mikey called and said you were coming. Leo’s atah sleepover, but Donnie’s in here. His head’s still hot and his voice is all scratchy, even though I made sure that he took the medicine Mikey left out. And he won’t eat anything I give him,” the 7-year-old reports diligently, much more mature than April had expected from the young child.

April’s been babysitting since she was 11, and considering how all the neighborhood kids around her block adore her, she likes to think that she’s got a pretty solid Ph.D. in knowing how to take care of a sick pre-teen who wants nothing to do with her. So the heavy-lidded and red-eyed glare that Donatello shoots at her from under his covers is duly noted but otherwise ignored as she gently knocks on the door and slowly follows a much less hesitant Raphael into the bedroom.

It takes a while, a long while, for Donatello, no, Donnie, to warm up to her, but he gets there eventually, with the help of Raphael, Raph, who’s hanging off of Aprils shoulders, having warmed up to her almost immediately simply because ‘any friend of Mikey’s is a friend of ours Dee! Don’t be mean and eat some soup!’

After realizing that Donnie just had a little cold, and was in no real danger even with a fever, Raph seemed to cheer up immensely, and was more than willing to help answer all of April’s questions about what medicine Donnie had taken, any allergies, the last time he ate, and even helped her make some egg drop soup since they didn’t have enough ingredients of chicken noodle, which Donnie put up a fight about, but eventually took after one look of Raph’s puppy dog eyes.

Donnie was out like a light 15 minutes later, after taking some night time cough medicine and April sent a reassuring text to Mikey two hours later when his fever finally broke, to which Mikey replied with an explosion of heart emoji’s that April couldn’t rightly decipher other than he was happy about it.

Mikey got home at 11 that night, and April had to flag him down quietly from where she sat trapped under a sleeping, pj clad Raph on the couch; a Jupiter Jim movie marathon playing on the tv.

“Thank you so much, April,” Mikey said to her in the kitchen 20 minutes later, handing her a cup of hot tea. He had efficiently plucked Raph off of April’s lap like a pro with years of experience, putting him into his own bed before checking on a still sleeping Donnie, whose face was no longer a burnt red from his fever earlier. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. I don’t get my paycheck till next week, so I can’t really pay you right now, but I brought home some chocolate mousse cake from my work that you can have until I can-” “You didn’t tell me you worked at Huesso’s!” April didn’t shout, because there were two kids sleeping down the hallway, as she grabbed the bag Mikey had offered to her. “Dude, their deserts are like, crazy good! I love their cheesecake, but they’re stupid expensive and you have to get a reservation like, 4 months in advance to get in.” And April uses the change in topics as a distraction because there was no way she’d let Mikey try to pay her for helping out, she didn’t even want that to be an option. April didn’t do this for the money. She wanted to help out Mikey out. She liked Mikey. She thought he was funny and charming and had a heart big enough to cradle the entire world if he was as big as all the love he has. And she adored being around his baby brothers.

April grins at Mikey when she opens the box, and slides her finger over the glossy frosting of the cake and licks her fingers of the chocolatey goodness before she says, “Listen, if I could convince you to bring me home deserts from this place, then I’ll hang out with the boys anytime you want me too. You have my number, literally call me anytime, for any reason, and I’m here.”

#rottmnt #big brother mikey au #this took forever i'm so sorry #i was in the middle of moving #but anyway yeah #Mikey and April are bff's in this au #April has a spare key to the hamato place #and is the designated big sister to everyone #the boys adore her and she in turn adores her boys #and yeah they're basically family now

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ranboounlabeled · 4 years ago

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Incorrect Quotes

So I had the bright idea one day to make incorrect quotes based on a DnD campaign and the players. Why not post them here? If any of them find this and request this to be deleted, I won’t mind. Blu - DM, any other character you don’t see listed here Tuck - Alzora Autumn/Me - Aria Maria - Yeet Bard - Tad Whipple - Niyana ~ Aria at 3AM: Alzora wake up Alzora, annoyed: What is it? Aria: If butterflies fall in love, do they feel humans/mobians in their stomach? Alzora: The rest of Team Supernova: Niyana: aria what the fuck Yeet: No no, wait. She has a point. Yeet: What if they’re mobian butterflies? Snipe: What if they just feel really tiny butterflies in their stomachs? Niyana: That’s morbid. ~ Aria: is pink panther a lion Alzora: say that again but slower Aria: i don't get it? Alzora: he's the pink PANTHER Aria: okay? but is he a lion? Alzora: Aria. he's a panther Aria: is that a kind of lion??? Alzora: no it's a fucking panther Aria: I just googled it. Are they not pink? Alzora: AND LIONS ARE??? ~ Yeet: *gets shot* Shit. Alzora: Language! ~ Niyana: Is 4 alot? Aria/Alzora: Depends on the context. Aria/Alzora: Money? No. Aria/Alzora: Murders? Yes. ~ Yeet: Just a reminder that I'm non-binary so if you've got a crush on me, u gay bro ~

Alzora: if one of you says that stupid thing again I will not hesitate to give you frost bite Aria: aw that's so sad alexa play despacito Alzora: starting with you Alt idea from our DM (context, Alzora is an ice dragon and I compare her to Elsa alot): Aria: thats so sad, alexa play Let it Go. Alzora: you will die in 3 days ~ Niyana: THE FLOOR IS LAVA Yeet: *helps Snipe onto a chair* Alzora: *throws Aria off the table* revenge Niyana: There are two types of people ~ Alzora: If anyone says ‘mood’ ‘same’ or 'me’ in response to something I say ever again, I will throw you out the nearest window Yeet: Mood Aria: Same Niyana: Me Alzora calling tad: hello? Tad can you come here quickly? Tad: why what happened? Alzora: well lets just say there’s a gun in my hand, 3 dead bodies on the floor, blood on the walls floor and ceiling, and police on the way Tad: Tad: what Tad: The police are going to be there? Yeah, you're on your own ~ Aria: Mobius is a hot, molten core with a solid crust. Therefore, its a ravioli Alzora: Please stop Yeet, taking notes: No no let her finish ~ Aria: Comparing me and Alzora is like comparing apples to oranges. Aria: I mean, I like apples, and I really don't like oranges. Aria: Oranges are annoying. ~ nesta: fuck your cake! aria:

~ Niyana: I’ve been working on my evil laugh! ‘Cause everybody’s got an evil laugh, you know, like... Ha ha ha ha HA! Like that. Alzora: Okay, here’s the thing. You’re not ready... for the evil laugh, okay, you can do a chuckle? Like a mildly upset chuckle? After MY evil laugh. ~ Snipe: You're smiling. Did something good happen? Aria: Can't I smile just because I feel like it? Niyana: Alzora tripped and fell down the stairs. ~ Yeet: So, why is Aria mad at you? Alzora: They sneezed and I accidentally said "shut the fuck up" instead of "bless you". Yeet: Alzora: Yeet: How do you accidentally say "shut the fuck up"?! ~ Alzora: Anyone who says 'uwu' or 'owo' again is being arrested for crimes against humanity! Aria: Cwimes against huwumanity. Alzora: I'm going to break your fingers. ~ Yeet, while crying: LOVE IS DEAD AND NEVER EXISTED! ALL YOU DID WAS BETRAY ME AS I LAY SICK AND FESTERING! YOU ARE THE DEFINITION OF DREAD! Snipe: Are you ok??? Yeet, crying even more: NIYANA STOLE MY FUCKIGN WEAPONS! [This breakdown is immediately followed by Yeet trying to beat the shit out of a 15 year-old] ~ Alzora: Good Morning! Aria: Good Morning everyone Snipe: Good Morning. [ half of everyone else says their good mornings] Yeet: My god you all sound like robots! “good morning” this “good morning” that. Yeet: Spice it up!!! Niyana: HEY MOTHERFUCKERS ~ Alzora: *falls* Alzora: Alzora: I suppose I’ll have to add the force of gravity to my list of enemies. ~ Aria: Tall people are the enemy! Alzora: I'm sorry, I can't hear you from up here. Aria: I will tie your fucking shoelaces together and you won't even know it! ~ Niyana: But rules were made to be broken! Tad: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken. Nesta: Uh, pinatas. Alzora: Glow sticks. Yeet: Karate boards. Aria: Spaghetti when you have a small pot. Niyana: And rules! Snipe: Don’t forget bones. Yeet: Ye-Wait no- ~ Aria: Onion rings are just vegetable doughnuts. Alzora, used to Aria: Sure they are, Aria. Aria: Your stomach thinks all potatoes are mashed. Alzora: Okay. Aria: Lasagna is just spaghetti-flavored cake. Alzora: … Aria, oblivious: Lobsters are mermaids to scorpions. Alzora, crying: Aria, please stop. Yeet, fascinated: No, continue. ~ Yeet: Hey, Snipe, what are you doing here? Snipe: This is where I come to cry. Yeet: What. Snipe: I said this is where I come to be a cool guy. ~ [loud crashing comes from Team Supernova's room, Tad runs in to find the room completely trashed] Tad: What happened in here!? [The rest of the Team are on an elevated surface] Aria, on top of the bookshelf, shaking: We saw a spider... ~ Yeet: Isn’t it amazing what friends learn from each other? Aria: I learn a lot from Phin because he makes so many mistakes. ~ Aria: AVJDJAHDHSHS Tad: what is that? Aria: a keyboard smash Tad: how do I do it? Aria: just press anything Tad: 7 ~ Alzora: Bitch. Aria: Blocked. Alzora: Wait, unblock me, I need to tell you something. Aria: Unblocked. Alzora: Bitch. ~ Alzora: Don’t say a word. Aria: Aria: Fergalicious. Alzora: I said no words. Aria: Oh, I see. Two weeks ago playing Scrabble, it’s not a word. Now suddenly it is a word because it’s convenient for you. ~ Aria: Olli? Why are you outside? It's pouring! Olli, drenched: The aesthetic, Miss Aria. Aria: Olli, please. Olli: ThE aEsThEtIc, MiSs ArIa! ~ Niyana: There’s no “i” in happyness. Aria: There is if you fuckin’ spell it right. ~ Niyana: Do you care if I take the skin off the Furby? Niyana: I want to make him a God. Once he is free of his sinful flesh he can begin the path towards enlightenment. He will take care of Us. Niyana: Also I want to softhack his circuits. Yeet: I literally could not care less but never say anything as frightening as that sentence ever again. Tad, not looking up from his sketch book: I could design some long furby designs if you need me to. ~ Stella: I have a mafia! Yeet: We have a Niyana. ~ Yeet: Bro. Snipe: What bro? Yeet: Tell the whole world we’re bros. Snipe: *whispers* We’re bros. Yeet: Why’d you whisper bro? Snipe: Because you’re my whole world bro. Yeet: B R O. ~ Yeet: Your house is burning down! You can only save one thing. What do you save? Aria: My house?? ~ Aria: Yeet, do you ever want to talk about your emotions? Yeet: No. Alzora: I do. Aria: I know, Alzora. Alzora: I’m sad. Aria: I know, Alzora. ~ Stella: *looking around in closet* What should I change into? Snipe: A better person. ~ Whatever characters Yeet writes into fanfiction: *hugging and vibing* Yeet: Who would ever want to harm such a loving relationship? Yeet, brandishing a pen: I WOOOOULD! ~ Yeet: Chillax~ Alzora: That’s not a word. Yeet: Sometimes the ones who deny “chillax” are the ones who need to chillax the most. ~ Aria: 13 year old me would be both terrified and in awe at who I am now. Niyana: 13 year old me wouldn't think I'd get this far. Yeet: I would fight a 13 year old me. ~ Snipe: Yeet came into my room in the middle of the night, I pretended to be asleep, and they stroked my hair for a minute then left. Are they planning to kill me??? Aria: No they just care about you, idiot. ~ Yeet: Well, I guess you could say I’ve fallen for you. Snipe: You just fell down seven flights of stairs, how are you even alive? ~ Yeet: I wish I could block people in real life. Alzora: A restraining order. Niyana: Murder. ~ Alzora: What the frick is wrong with you? Snipe: Please be more specific and resubmit with the proper paperwork. ~ [on a city bus] Stranger: Are you traveling for business or pleasure? Alzora, in full armor: Combat. ~ Aria: Who ate my fries? Yeet? Yeet: I don’t like fries. Aria: Snipe? Snipe: I don’t need food. Aria: Niyana? Niyana: …It was Alzora. Alzora: Yeah it was. Aria: wh ~ Alzora: They are completely literal people. Metaphors go over their heads. Yeet: Nothing goes over my head... my reflexes are too fast! I would catch it. ~ Yeet: Live by the ass, die by the ass. Tad: S t o p ~ Niyana: Is there a word that is a mix between sad and mad? Tad: Malcontented, disgruntled, miserable, desolate. Yeet: Smad. ~ Tad: If someone is trying to rob a civilian, what is the correct course of action? Yeet: T-pose to assert dominance Tad: No. Niyana: Say "Thank you Chaos, for this meal I'm about to have" and then- Tad, interrupting: even worse Yeet, taking notes: Wait, let her finish ~ Aria: Hey Alzora, do you think Snipe feels regret? Because i just saw him choke down one of Tad’s pancakes in half a second. Alzora: Snipe has only one emotion and that’s hubris. ~ Yeet: *peeling a banana* May I take your jacket lol Snipe: Do you think other people can't hear you? ~ Aria: You have to pick your battles, Alzora. Alzora: I’m full of rage and I’m picking all of them. ~ Nesta, T-posing in the hallway: Good morning, parental figure. Tad, not looking up from his coffee: Hello, problem child. ~ Yeet, throwing his head in Snipe’s lap: Tell me I’m pretty. Snipe, lovingly stroking their hair: You’re pretty fucking annoying, that’s what you are. ~ Yeet, hoarsely: I think I'm losing my voice. Niyana: Ha! That means you can't yell at me anymore! [later that day] Niyana: Turns out, Yeet is scarier when they’re quiet. ~ Snipe: WE'RE SINKING IN DEEP WATER. Yeet: Don't worry. I learned this from a survival TV show. Yeet: OH TOOOOODLES-- ~ Niyana: Who else uses can openers to drink soft drinks? Yeet: This is extremely unhinged I must try it immediately. ~ Snipe: Boil up some mountain dew. It’s gonna be a long night. Aria: You could have said anything else. Yeet: fire burn and cauldron bubble, baja blast to fuel my trouble. ~ Aria: What do you want for dinner? Niyana: How about Sonic? Aria: *whispers* He's so fast how would we catch him-

#I can assure you there's much more but im tired #I'll reblog with more later #incorrect quotes #sonic incorrect quotes #sonic forces #dnd 5e #tad the duck #yeet #aria the jackal #alzora frost #niyana the cat #dnd incorrect quotes

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thedisneychef · 2 years ago

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Hollywood Brown Derby's Grapefruit Cake & Frosting Recipe

Grapefruit cake with cream cheese frosting is a unique and delicious dessert that is perfect for any occasion. This cake features a delicate and moist crumb, with a tangy grapefruit flavor that is complemented by the rich and creamy cream cheese frosting. The recipe is easy to follow and uses simple ingredients, making it a great option for any home cook who wants to try their hand at baking something new and exciting. Whether served for a special occasion or enjoyed as an afternoon treat, grapefruit cake with cream cheese frosting is sure to impress your taste buds. In this context, we can explore the origins and cultural significance of grapefruit, and how it has been used in desserts and baked goods. We can also discuss the importance of using high-quality ingredients, such as fresh grapefruit juice and organic cream cheese, to create a delicious and wholesome dessert. Finally, we can highlight the versatility of this cake and how it can be customized to suit different preferences by adding additional flavors or decorations. I’ve been dancing around doing this recipe for a long time… While I’m a big fan of cakes, I really don’t make them all that often. They always seem like a major commitment in time and I have this abnormal fear of messing them up. More Delicious Recipes You Will Love: - Ginger Sauce – Teppan Edo - Guinness Stew – Rose And Crown Pub And Dining Room - Kase Spatzle Recipes – Biergarten Restaurant Plus, I don’t have the patience to wait until they’re cooled all the way before frosting them. I know this all sounds utterly ridiculous, but it’s true. But this cake… Something about this cake sounded so, so good. I know it has a huge, devoted following of people who swear this is the greatest cake at Disney. And researching this cake was actually pretty fun. It’s been on the menu forever, and it’s gone through numerous updates and changes, so it was neat to see how it’s evolved over the years. I was pretty excited to give this recipe a try. The downside to a cake that has such a long history is that it has numerous recipe variations (all of which are official), and a lot of them suffer from being scaled from Disney’s massive batches to a single batch for the home chef. The recipe I used is the most recent available and it came out flawlessly in terms of taste, but unfortunately, in order to get 4 layers (like they serve now), it really needs to be doubled. The recipe as-is (and the way I’m sharing it), is only enough for two, maybe three very, very thin layers. While this is almost exactly like it used to be served, now it’s served with 4 layers. I have to say, for somebody who doesn’t make cakes, I’m pretty proud of how this turned out. It’s so light, fluffy, and fresh tasting, really unlike any cake I’ve ever had. It’s spring on a fork. I did use pink grapefruit because, for some strange reason, I couldn’t find white anywhere… But I love, love, love the color contrast that the pink grapefruit gives, and I know it’s not unheard of for it to be served using pink grapefruit at the Brown Derby. The cream cheese goes brilliantly with the airy cake and the sweet grapefruit, and it’s deliciously creamy, without being gooey. I’m not sure why, but I was so terrified this would fall apart when I sliced it, but it held together brilliantly. All the little elements of it just meshed together beautifully. Had I to do over again, I’d probably keep the pink grapefruit, but I’d double the recipe (including frosting) and divide it evenly between two pans (or cook this recipe twice) so I’d be able to get those extra layers, and use way more grapefruit. I was also reminded of how much I hate to frost cakes. I had way better luck frosting the inside and then frosting the sides and tops after I had my layers assembled. Not sure if this is the right way to do it, but hey… It’s what I did. And, for the record, I didn’t use the food coloring. I can completely see why this dessert has stood the test of time and survived several updates to the Brown Derby menu. It’s exotic and clean-tasting, relatively easy to make (though it is time consuming), and it looks really dramatic when sliced and garnished with the pink grapefruit. This for sure is going into the recipe file I crack out when I want to impress people with my cooking awesomeness. ~~~~ °o° ~~~~ In addition to the delicious food and recipes, Disney World is also known for its unique dining experiences, such as character dining and themed restaurants. Whether you want to have breakfast with Mickey Mouse, dine in a replica of a sci-fi drive-in theater at Hollywood Studios, or enjoy a meal with an ocean view at the Coral Reef Restaurant in Epcot, there's something for everyone. And with the help of Recipes Today and the How to Make category, you can even recreate some of these magical dining experiences in your own home. So why not start planning your next Disney-inspired meal or dining experience today? Read the full article

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lynneshobbydomain · 5 years ago

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Make My Wish Come True (Day 7 of Komahina Week)

((Thank you so much for hosting this event. You guys did such a tremendous job. Thank you sunflower_8 for ediitng this for me and reminding me that I need to sometimes think not like Shuichi))

Prompt: Birthday/Free day (Soulmate AU)

Rating: G

Summary: Continuation of Tie A String Around Me. Nagito doesn’t want anything for his birthday, but Hajime has other plans.

You can read this under the cut or go to my AO3

“Okay so I know you told me that you didn’t want anything for your birthday-”

“But you got me something anyway, didn’t you?” Nagito lifted his head up from the book that he was reading as he looked over at Hajime standing close to the couch, hiding something behind his back. Nagito pursed his lips together as his soul-mate fidgeted, looking excited and knowing. The gentle three tugs of the string that was wrapped around Nagito’s finger was more or less a way to get him to relent the fond exasperation he was giving Hajime right now.

Ever since that fateful year of finding themselves at a vending machine, and then again at the end of a phone conversation, Nagito felt as though Hajime was trying to jump through hoops to prove that the string couldn’t be wrong for choosing each other as their soulmate. Admittedly, Nagito thought that it was wrong for one reason, which grew and grew expontantly into a reason of fear.

He couldn’t lose Hajime to his luck, and so far Hajime was strong enough to brave the weather. Brave enough that for the second birthday that they were celebrating together, Hajime went against Nagito’s wishes about not having anything. He already had everything. What more could he possibly be given?

Clearly, clearly Hajime thought that there was something he could add to his collection, and he wasn’t going to stop looking sly until Nagito put the book down. “...Maybe.”

“Maybe you got me something? Maybe you definitely got me something?” Nagito pressed, teasing. “I told you I was happy with-”

Hajime carefully pulled a piece of cake from behind his back and Nagito blinked. It was a gorgeous piece of chocolate cake. The dark brown frosting was evenly spread across the top. A single candle was standing in the middle of it, unlit and waiting. Nagito took the piece of cake in his hands, keeping it steady, already understanding what was next to come. He could feel the flush go down his cheeks and his neck, painting his white skin into a cherry red.

“Happy birthday to you.” Hajime sang quietly and Nagito felt tears sting his eyes as his boyfriend, the love of his life, reached into his pocket to take out his lighter. “Happy birthday to you.”

The sharp click of the lighter easily masked the soft gasp that Nagito made when he started to realize what this all meant. He hadn’t had a birthday where someone got him a cake or sung him a song in such a long time. Ever since his parents died….and before that.

“Happy birthday dear Nagito.” Hajime gently pulled his hand away when he was certain that the candle caught the flame, dancing brightly. “Happy birthday to you.” He finished the note. No thunderous applause, but the silence echoed the encouragement of the next part.

What could he possibly wish for that he didn’t already have? Now that he thought about it...there was one wish that he could make. There was one wish that he could see come true if he really wanted to. He leaned in close and blew the candle out. Hajime grinned, and Nagito could feel another three tugs against his pinky. They weren’t quick and sharp like they normally were. These were slow, and methodical. As though Hajime was trying to say it in a lover’s voice.

Nagito reached for their string and gently started to use it like a rope, tugging Hajime until he was close enough to be personal. Leaning in and thinking he was going to get a kiss, Nagito quickly used the fork that was given to him on the plate to cut the cake. He stuffed the small piece of chocolate into Hajime’s awaiting kiss and grinned when Hajime gave him a slight look. “Sorry.” He said, his voice soft. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“You know I got that for you. The rest of it’s in the fridge.”

“So that’s why I smelled chocolate when you were in the kitchen.” Nagito teased and Hajime gave him a light shove. He snickered before pulling him back, placing the cake to the side on the coffee table. “You were busy.”

“I wanted to do something for you.” Hajime murmured.

“Haven’t you done enough?” Nagito asked, twisting a strand of Hajime’s hair. It always felt so silky against his fingertips. “Putting up with me for starters?”

“You put up with me, I thought it was fair.” Hajime retorted and Nagito laughed softly. “Besides, I love you...and I felt guilty for last year.”

“Last year? Hajime, love, we weren’t exactly friends during that time.” Nagito rolled his eyes. “Please don’t feel guilty because as an acquaintance you listened to me when I said I didn’t want anything.”

“Okay but you still went out of your way for my birthday.” Hajime pointed out, “And I told you that you didn’t have to.”

“So?” Nagito watched Hajime splutter, trying to defend himself. He gently moved his hand away from Hajime’s hair and gently stroked his cheek instead. Hajime instinctively leaned against it, and Nagito cupped it before gently pulling himself close to Hajime’s orbit and pressing his lips against his.

The taste of chocolate was addicting and he could chase it if he wanted to. Instead, he pulled away and let Hajime decide if he was free or not. “Hey.” He said softly. “Do you want to make my wish come true?”

“Now you got me concerned.” Hajime said slowly and Nagito laughed. “What exactly am I-”

“You should marry me.” The words slipped right out Nagito’s mouth before he could stop. He watched as Hajime’s eyes widened and his jaw went slightly slack at the question...statement. Nagito’s heart started to race wildly, but he couldn’t bring himself to take those words back. At the same time, this was the wrong situation for this!

It was always a sight to see Hajime’s expression when he stopped working. He closed his eyes and mouth, trying to mentally recalibrate himself back into reality. As though something mentally whiplashed himself out of working order.

Nagito waited with baited breath, and was starting to come up with a thousand excuses to try to backtrack his words. He knew that Hajime might say yes, but this was all out of context. He didn’t have a ring. He shouldn’t have asked the way that he did. He knew that if he didn’t ask, Hajime would try to beat him. Hajime probably would think of so many different ways that this could’ve been better, and maybe Nagito should’ve waited but-

“Yeah. Okay.”

“That’s it?” Nagito blinked, that was...anticlimactic.

“...I’m not exactly going to burst into tears and cry on my knees, Nagito. We’re soulmates, this was kind of supposed to happen.” Hajime teased.

“Well no, but I was expecting more drama than that.” Nagito mused thoughtfully.

“Who am I? Ouma? Mioda?” Hajime spluttered. “If anything, Nagito, if I asked you to marry me, you’d be the one being dramatic.”

“No that’s true. I wouldn’t ever believe that a talentless-”

“-oh god here we go again-” Hajime looked at the ceiling, though the smile played at his lips.

“-reserve course student could ever love a scum like me.” Nagito finished, and laughed when Hajime reached and pinched his side in retaliation. “What? Isn’t it true? We’re both worthless when it comes to this world, but you have found meaning in something that I couldn’t.” His expression softened and all he could feel was his heart thumping rhythmically against his chest. The love that he had for Hajime could race his heart to the ground and slow it to a stop.

“I love you.” Hajime said, and Nagito could hear the fondness and exasperation and the love that was all mingled in those three little words. “I love you.” He repeated, the love coming out fiercely, overshadowing the other two emotions. “Of course I’m going to say yes. I don’t want to be by anyone’s side but yours.” He took a breath. “You know you just tricked me into giving you a present. You know that, right?”

“Hmm? Oh! I guess I did.” Nagito blinked. “I didn’t think of-” Hajime took the distraction for what it was and pressed their lips together once again. It tasted sweeter this time and Nagito wasn’t sure what was different. He didn’t mind of course, all of their kisses were pleasurable and welcoming. He just wished he knew more about what each one meant.

“Happy birthday, fiance.” Hajime murmured.

Nagito definitely wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to handle that being his new nickname. He dragged Hajime in for another kiss, eternally grateful that his string had been tied around him.

#komahina week 2020 #komahina #hopetohope #danganronpa #sdr2 #lynne's self indulgence #Hajime Hinata #nagito komaeda #birthday #love #fluff #danganronpa fanfic #thank you for your support

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agentrouka-blog · 5 years ago

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What future do you see for Timett One-Eye? Do you think he'll cross paths with Sansa and be a stand-in for Jon, since Jon is probably going to lose an eye?

I definitely agree that Timett is likely one of the many stand-ins for Jon, but I also think he’s not going to be as prominent a figure as the Hound, or even Sansa’s cuddly cousin Sweetrobin or any of the maaaaany others. I don’ t think they would be a specific stand-in for Jon in a romantic context, or even touch on every context of their relationship. IF they meet, the devil will likely be in the details.

That said, Tyrion is given this little speech in ADWD:

Tyrion cleared his throat. “You can talk of old times later … after I am done explaining why my head would be of more use to you upon my shoulders. You will find, Lord Plumm, that I can be very generous to my friends. If you doubt me, ask Bronn. Ask Shagga, son of Dolf. Ask Timett, son of Timett.” “And who would they be?” asked the man called Inkpots. “Good men who pledged me their swords and prospered greatly by that service.” He shrugged. “Oh, very well, I lied about the ‘good’ part. They’re bloodthirsty bastards, like you lot.” (ADWD, Tyrion XI)

A one-eyed, blood-thirsty bastard, a Burned Man (clan name). That’s pretty blatant. And considering he is specifically named and brought up, that’s another hint that Sansa may, in fact, encounter the mountain clans soon, and possibly make use of her marriage to Tyrion in that context. They have reason to remember him fondly. When Tyrion is informed that his mountain clan men are gone, we are given detail on Timett and another potential, ugly hint for Sansa:

“The Stone Crows are still in the kingswood. Shagga seems to have taken a fancy to the place. Timett led the Burned Men home, with all the plunder they took from Stannis’s camp after the fighting. Chella turned up with a dozen Black Ears at the River Gate one morning, but your father’s red cloaks chased them off while the Kingslanders threw dung and cheered.” Ingrates. The Black Ears died for them. Whilst Tyrion lay drugged and dreaming, his own blood had pulled his claws out, one by one. “I want you to go to my sister. Her precious son made it through the battle unscathed, so Cersei has no more need of a hostage. She swore to free Alayaya once—” “She did. Eight, nine days ago, after the whipping.” Tyrion shoved himself up higher, ignoring the sudden stab of pain through his shoulder. “Whipping?” “They tied her to a post in the yard and scourged her, then shoved her out the gate naked and bloody.” She was learning to read, Tyrion thought, absurdly. Across his face the scar stretched tight, and for a moment it felt as though his head would burst with rage. Alayaya was a whore, true enough, but a sweeter, braver, more innocent girl he had seldom met. Tyrion had never touched her; she had been no more than a veil, to hide Shae. In his carelessness, he had never thought what the role might cost her. (ASOS, Tyrion I)

No more than a veil. Veil, Vale. Bloody, Gate. Playing a role at great cost. Learning. Sweet, brave, innocent, never touched by Tyrion… That’s Sansa.

Something tells me, Sansa’s time as Alayne will come to an uncomfortable end.

I don’t think she will be literally whipped. But her role as a bastard girl might leave her very vulnerable to some kind of retribution if Littlefinger’s power in the Vale is shaken.

There may even be a dynamic at work that I like the call Small Vale Conspiracy, akin to the Grand Northern Conspiracy. Vale lords loyal to the Arryns may be hoping to oust Littlefinger, while Harry’s faction also has no desire to be controlled by him. We are given to understand Littlefinger has bought most of their support. But maybe not?

Sansa as his bastard way above her station, his co-conspirator, potentially as his rumored incestuous mistress, maybe accused of wearing the clothes or jewels of the late Lady Arryn (Like Grandpa Lannister’s mistress, who was made to do a walk of shame by Tywin), being gifted with things as extravagant as a giant lemon cake that required every last lemon in the Vale (look to Jon’s chapters to understand the importance of citrus fruit to combat scurvy in winter and you may understand how some could consider that baaaaad) and arranging fancy tourneys in a time of war... Plus, she lied about Lysa’s death.

It may come to nothing, but if suddenly a lot of people were to turn on Sansa the moment Littlefinger is considered ousted, GRRM would have given it ample set-up. Sansas is essentially Reek to Baelish’s Ramsey. (While also being young Griff, while also being ASOS-Jon with the wildlings, while also being AGOT-Dany with the Dothraki... Cycles, mirrors everywhere.)

It would fit into the pattern of everyone heading into major catastrophe before emerging momentarily triumphant.

Sansa being humiliated and scorned might ultimately be her path to freedom, to the North.

Another hint:

His dream of selling Arya to Lady Arryn died there in the hills, though. "There's frost above us and snow in the high passes," the village elder said. "If you don't freeze or starve, the shadowcats will get you, or the cave bears. There's the clans as well. The Burned Men are fearless since Timett One-Eye came back from the war. And half a year ago, Gunthor son of Gurn led the Stone Crows down on a village not eight miles from here. They took every woman and every scrap of grain, and killed half the men. They have steel now, good swords and mail hauberks, and they watch the high road—the Stone Crows, the Milk Snakes, the Sons of the Mist, all of them. Might be you'd take a few with you, but in the end they'd kill you and make off with your daughter."

I'm not his daughter, Arya might have shouted, if she hadn't felt so tired. She was no one's daughter now. She was no one. Not Arya, not Weasel, not Nan nor Arry nor Squab, not even Lumpyhead. She was only some girl who ran with a dog by day, and dreamed of wolves by night. (ASOS, Arya XII)

Someone wants to “sell” a Stark Girl but will fail. Winter imagery. Running with a dog, i.e. some knight-like figure like the Hound, but dreaming of wolves. “I am not his daughter.” Could as well be Sansa.

If I’m wrong about Sansa taking a ship from Gulltown, she may actually make her way west through the mountains with a knight and encounter the mountain clans, and Timett. It would be a sweet parallel to whatever Dany is going to do to the Dothraki she encounters at the end of ADWD after fleeing Meereen (where she “played a role”) on Dragon back, and whatever Jon will be doing in the North that will likely involve the Wildlings, after returning from getting stabbed.

If somehow Sansa enters recovers some power and dignity or at least gets the opportunity to politic her way North with the help of the Mountain Clans, I would love it. Timett would be a key figure to making it happen, through his Tyrion connection.

If she eventually, perhaps even after reuniting with Jon, manages to broker some kind of peace between Clans and Vale, much like Jon did with Wildlings and Night’s Watch, I would love it even more. But that may be too much to ask?

I’m not super-attached to this theory, but I could enjoy it.

That’s the nice thing about TWOW. We already know Sansa will be big, crucial and heading home. So many different ways it may happen, though!

#asoiaf #sansa stark #timett son of timett #mountain clans #tyrion lannister #jon snow

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