#sunlit cinnamon cookie

[chaotickit]

theyre discussing who had it worse

[songbirdsanctuary]

1, Scarian

Word count: 1,137

Scar walked back and forth in his cozy, sunlit kitchen, packaging up all the delightful treats he had baked that morning. The aroma of freshly baked goods filled the air, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. He had made an assortment of delicious treats: baked apples filled with honey, poppy seed muffins, a mixed berry cake, a rich and creamy cheesecake, gooey chocolate cookies, and a classic apple pie.

Scar had spent hours in the kitchen, measuring ingredients with precision, mixing batter until it was just right, and carefully timing each item to ensure it came out perfectly. Baking was his passion, a creative outlet that brought him immense joy. The process of transforming simple ingredients into mouthwatering desserts was something he never tired of. However, this also meant that he often ended up with more baked goods than he could possibly eat on his own.

He couldn't bear to see his creations go to waste, so he made it a habit to share them with his friends. Over time, he had learned their preferences and began to tailor his baking to suit their tastes. Pearl had a particular fondness for his pumpkin pie, savoring each bite of the spiced, creamy filling. Grian couldn't get enough of anything with poppy seeds, delighting in the crunch and unique flavor they added. Impulse had a weakness for lemon and apple treats, enjoying the tartness and sweetness in equal measure. Mumbo, on the other hand, loved his baked apples, the warm, cinnamon-infused fruit filling bringing a smile to his face every time.

Scar flicked his cat tail thoughtfully; it had been a while since he had brought Grian anything. Determined to rectify that, he grabbed a wooden container and carefully placed a slice of baked apple, three poppy seed muffins, and five chocolate cookies inside. With a satisfied nod, he secured the wooden lid and set off.

Scar made his way to Midnight Alley, a place where he often found Grian. The narrow, winding streets were filled with the echoes of the bustling city, but today, they seemed quieter than usual. As he walked, Scar's eyes scanned the area, searching for any sign of his friend.

He turned a corner and suddenly froze, his ears perking up at the faint sound of crying. His heart skipped a beat. Why would Grian be crying? Urgency gripped him, and he hurried toward the source of the sound.

In a narrow space between two buildings, Scar saw a small bundle of feathers. His heart ached when he realized it was Grian, his scarlet macaw wings wrapped tightly around himself. Scar approached cautiously, his steps gentle and measured. He sat down next to Grian, the baked goods momentarily forgotten.

"Grian?" Scar said softly, his voice full of concern.

Grian jumped, his head shooting up in surprise. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his pitch-black eyes were wide with distress as he looked at Scar.

"Scar?" Grian's voice trembled, the tears glistening on his cheeks.

Scar's heart ached at the sight of his friend in such distress. He shifted closer, his voice gentle and soothing as he spoke again.

"Grian, what's wrong? Please, talk to me."

Grian stayed silent, his gaze dropping to the ground. Scar tried again, his concern deepening.

"Grian, I'm here for you. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Still, Grian said nothing, his wings trembling slightly as he hugged them tighter around himself. Scar sighed softly, realizing that words weren't helping. He glanced at the wooden container he had brought, then carefully opened it.

"Maybe this will help," he said softly, offering the container to Grian.

Grian looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. Slowly, he reached out and took the container, opening it to reveal the slice of baked apple, three poppy seed muffins, and five chocolate cookies.

A small, tentative smile appeared on Grian's face as he picked up one of the muffins. He took a bite, and Scar noticed a faint glimmer of cheer returning to his eyes.

"Thank you, Scar," Grian murmured between bites, his voice still shaky but warmer.

Scar watched as his friend continued to eat, the tension in Grian's body gradually easing. It wasn't a complete solution, but seeing Grian's spirits lift, even a little, brought a sense of relief to Scar. He stayed by Grian's side, offering silent support, knowing that sometimes, just being there was enough.

Scar sat quietly beside Grian, watching as his friend slowly ate one of the muffins and then two of the cookies. The act of eating seemed to calm Grian somewhat, but Scar's concern hadn't lessened. After a while, he gently asked again.

"Grian, can you please tell me what's wrong?"

Grian remained silent, his eyes downcast. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and then pulled his hair back for a moment. In that brief instant, Scar saw something that made his heart drop: Grian was missing an eye. The empty socket, usually hidden by his hair, was now visible.

Scar forced himself not to react outwardly, even though the sight deeply concerned him. He didn't want to press Grian about it just yet, sensing that there was more to the story that Grian wasn't ready to share. Instead, he placed a comforting hand on Grian's shoulder.

"It's okay, Grian," Scar said softly. "You don't have to say anything right now. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Grian nodded slightly, his hand dropping back to his side as he looked at Scar. The silence between them was heavy, but it was also filled with understanding and support. Scar knew that whatever had happened, they would face it together.

Scar sat quietly, sensing that words would only go so far. Instead, he gently wrapped his arms around Grian, pulling him into a comforting embrace. Grian stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, resting his head against Scar's shoulder. The warmth of Scar's hug seemed to provide the reassurance he needed.

They stayed like that for a while, the only sounds being the distant murmur of the city and the soft rustling of Grian's feathers. Scar could feel Grian's breath start to even out, the tension slowly melting away from his body.

"It's going to be okay," Scar whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm here with you."

Grian's eyelids grew heavy, and before long, he had fallen asleep in Scar's arms. Scar remained still, holding him gently, feeling a mix of protectiveness and sorrow. He didn't know what had happened to Grian, but he was determined to be there for him, no matter what.

As the minutes passed, Scar continued to hold his friend, offering silent comfort and support. The bond between them felt stronger than ever, and Scar knew that together, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

[akaripng]

A/N: Thank you to @mourambleson for the wonderful idea!

---

The smell of sugar and spices fills the cozy space of your kitchen as the early autumn sun filters through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. You stand at the counter, gently rolling balls of dough between your hands, your dark skin dusted with flour and bits of cookie batter. Akaashi is beside you, his normally meticulous hands covered in sticky dough as he cuts out maple leaf-shaped cookies, his brows furrowed in concentration. It’s a sight that always makes you smile—your usually composed husband, lost in the process of baking for your daughter.

Speaking of Himari, she’s standing on a stool by the counter, a bright pink apron tied around her small frame as she “helps” by sneaking bites of dough and tossing flour around like it’s confetti. Her curls bounce with every giggle, the light catching the soft brown tones of her skin that matches yours. She’s practically vibrating with excitement, her brown eyes wide as she watches her daddy shape the cookies.

“Mommy, can we make more of the ones with the cinnamon?” she asks, her little voice filled with pure delight. You look over to see her licking the remnants of dough off her fingers.

“You mean the pumpkin snickerdoodles?” you ask, trying to hold back a chuckle. Her eyes light up, and she nods vigorously, little curls bouncing everywhere.

You exchange a glance with Akaashi, and his lips quirk into a small, knowing smile. There are already far too many cookies spread out across the counter—pumpkin snickerdoodles, chai cookies, cheesecake cookies, pumpkin chocolate chip… You’re not even sure how you’ll manage to eat them all.

“Don’t you think we’ve made enough, baby?” you ask Himari gently, but she shakes her head fervently.

“Noooo, there’s never enough cookies!” she exclaims, her arms flailing in exaggerated protest. Akaashi lets out a low chuckle beside you.

“I think she has a point,” he murmurs, his voice soft and smooth, filled with affection. He glances down at your flour-covered hands, then leans in just enough to brush a kiss against your cheek. “We can always give some away to Uncle Bo-kun,” he suggests.

“Uncle Bo-kun!” Himari cheers, throwing her hands into the air. “We have to give him the biggest cookies!”

You laugh, your heart swelling at how adorable she looks. “Alright, we’ll give Uncle Bo-kun the biggest ones, but we’ll need to save some for us too.”

Himari grins, her wide, gap-toothed smile melting your heart as she bounces in place. “Can I help?”

“Of course, sweet girl.” You wipe your hands on a towel and lift her off the stool, placing her beside the growing collection of cookies on the table. “But first, why don’t you help Daddy finish those maple leaf cookies while I start on the last batch?”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow, but the soft smile playing on his lips betrays his amusement. “I don’t know, Himari. Can you handle helping me?” he asks, feigning seriousness.

“I can handle it, Daddy!” she giggles, grabbing the cookie cutter and enthusiastically pressing it into the dough. You watch them together, feeling a deep warmth in your chest at how natural and effortless they are with each other. Akaashi, with his quiet attentiveness, and Himari, so full of life and joy, as they create their little world together. The scene is almost too precious, a moment of love and connection you want to preserve forever.

While they work on their maple leaf cookies, you return to your task, rolling out the pumpkin snickerdoodle dough. As you sprinkle the cinnamon-sugar coating over the dough, you can’t help but think back to the early days of your relationship with Akaashi—the long talks over coffee, the way he always seemed to understand your quiet struggles without you having to say a word, the way his presence always brought you peace. Now, here you are, years later, standing in a sunlit kitchen with the man you love and your beautiful daughter, creating sweet memories one cookie at a time.

“Mommy, look!” Himari’s excited voice pulls you from your thoughts. She holds up a misshapen maple leaf cookie with pride. “It’s a giant one for Uncle Bo-kun!”

You smile warmly, nodding in approval. “That’s perfect, sweetie. Uncle Bo-kun is going to love it.”

Akaashi gives you a soft look over the top of Himari’s head, his blue-green eyes filled with a quiet kind of adoration that always manages to catch you off guard. You feel a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks under his gaze, and for a moment, it’s like the world around you disappears, leaving just the two of you in the gentle stillness of your shared life.

As the afternoon wears on, the cookies continue to pile up. The kitchen is a mess, with flour covering every available surface, but it doesn’t matter. Himari is beaming, humming a tune under her breath as she helps you place the last tray of cookies in the oven, and Akaashi stands behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“What are we going to do with all these cookies?” you ask, glancing at the sheer number of them spread out across the counter. There’s a slight hint of panic in your voice as you realize just how many you’ve baked.

Akaashi chuckles softly behind you. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe you can bring some to work, and I’ll take a few to the office.”

“Or we could just eat them all!” Himari chimes in, clearly pleased with herself.

You shake your head with a laugh, scooping her up into your arms and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “If we ate all these cookies, we’d turn into cookies ourselves.”

Himari giggles, wrapping her little arms around your neck. “That’s okay! We’d be yummy cookies!”

Akaashi smirks, reaching out to poke at the tip of Himari’s nose. “You’d definitely be the yummiest cookie, Hima.”

And just like that, your heart feels full to the brim, overflowing with love for your little family.

[ ©𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐧𝐠. all rights reserved, october 2024. do not steal, repost, nor claim as your own! ]

[darksturnz]

#INTRODUCING. . . BAMBI.ᐟMADISON

inspo + creds: to everyone who has written any animal! + sweetheart! + shy! + coquette! au.

best paired with: star!reader + artist!chris (non romantic) masterlist: here

soft-spoken ❀ doe eyes. blush pink lips. vanilla perfume. gold jewelry. pressed flowers. handwritten letters. warm-toned thrifted cardigans. music. cinnamon rolls. floral bedsheets. cozy tea shops. The Smiths on vinyl.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who is the type of girl to force you to join her life360 circle and spam your phone whenever you speed, only to quickly call you and tell you not to text and drive when you respond to her.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who can never bring herself to kill a bug and will gently cup it in her hands to set it free outside, even if it scares her.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who nervously fiddles with her necklace whenever star!reader makes her laugh too hard, her smile so big it feels embarrassing.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who is the epitome of quiet grace, but there’s more to her than meets the eye. You’ll often find her tucked into a corner of her favorite antique store or sitting by the window of a coffee shop, scribbling in her journal. She loves soft, vintage aesthetics—sunlit lace curtains, dusty books, and faded Polaroids. She’s drawn to simplicity but longs for something deeper, something real.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who cries at Disney movies, every single time, no matter how many times she’s seen them.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who can’t handle scary movies but will sit through them just to have an excuse to hold star!reader hand or hide her face in star!reader shoulder.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who surprises artist!chris with a small notebook for his drawings, leaving it on his doorstep with oatmeal cookies and a note that just says, “For your art. :)”

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who loves so softly and so deeply, it hurts, because she’s terrified it’s something she’s not allowed to feel.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who wears her heart on her sleeve but hides it behind her shy smile. She’s kind and patient, the friend who remembers your favorite tea or slips a handwritten note into your locker. But don’t mistake her softness for weakness—Madison holds herself with quiet strength, even when the world feels overwhelming.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who lets star!reader drag her on random late night adventures the night before something big and even though it stresses her out, she usually finds herself out and about because she can’t say no to her.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who is too shy to say what she’s feeling out loud but writes it in long, rambling texts she drafts and never sends.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON is the kind of girl who loves with her whole heart, though she often struggles to admit it. She’s sentimental to a fault, keeping pressed flowers and notes in an old shoebox under her bed. Her laugh is rare but beautiful, like the first warm day of spring. She’s learning to love herself as much as she loves others—a journey that’s messy, brave, and entirely her own.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who makes silly bracelets with star!reader and proudly wears hers, even if they don’t match her outfits at all.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who gets overwhelmed during arguments and looks at star!reader with wide, tear-filled eyes until star!reader sighs and pulls her into a hug.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who writes heartfelt notes in birthday cards and always adds a little doodle of flowers in the corner.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who is painfully shy about her singing and keeps her music strictly private, but late at night, when it’s just her and star!reader, she’ll softly hum or sing under her breath, knowing it’s the only place she feels safe enough to be vulnerable.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who bakes cookies or brownies when she’s stressed, her kitchen always smelling like vanilla and cinnamon.

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON who tries to convince herself she’s just imagining it, that it’s not real, that the way she feels is just a phase she’ll grow out of.

authors note: major creds to the people who have already wrote story lines with these au’s. i did some searching and quite frankly there’s just too many of you writing them for me to list out everyone :,) i hope you guys are just as excited for this series as i am. also, these are so long i know but i promise they just make it a storyline without me actually writing one, saves us both time LOL.

lace dividers: @/y-unrei

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @mattsmunch @pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken @mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams

[ch4rryc0smos]

SHIPS LIST .ᐟ

❝ 'cause you know me better than i know myself! ❞

𓇼 — i'm not the most... aesthetic, with ships, and all, and girl, is this WORK. but i'm doing it. i want a nice and organised blog alright. chat we can do it !! subjected to change ofc

── .✦ SINGULAR

♡ — kenji sato ༝ hazel vellichor ⋮ 🪻🥀 ⌇ emethyst ⌇ kenzel ♡ — sal fisher ༝ sage valencia ⋮ 🎸💌 ⌇ sapphirerald ⌇ valsher ♡ — art donaldson ༝ marion rosevelt ⋮ 🎾🖋️ ⌇ masterpiece ⌇ artion ♡ — ivan ༝ ember sinclair ⋮ 🪩🎤 ⌇ ivamber ⌇ sinclaivan

── .✦ MULTIPLE ╰── ﹙ genshin impact ﹚ ⿻

♡ — zhongli ༝ viatrix ⋮ to be named ♡ — kamisato ayato ༝ navodya adlea ⋮ to be named ♡ — diluc ragnivndr ༝ s'ena lavanyah ⋮ to be named ♡ — xiao ༝ anissa ka'rem ⋮ to be named

╰── ﹙ dear evan hansen ﹚ ⋆

♡ — connor murphy ༝ blaire callahan ⋮ 🌑🌕 ⌇ murllahan ⌇ connaire ♡ — evan hansen ༝ blaire callahan ⋮ 🖊️✉️ ⌇ blaevan ⌇ callansen ♡ — connor murphy ༝ blaire callahan ༝ evan hansen ⋮ 🍀🍁🍂 ⌇ blairevannor ⌇ murllansen

╰── ﹙ resident evil ﹚ ☆

♡ — leon kennedy ༝ soleil viella-eirian ⋮ 💿🥂 ⌇ sunlit dusk ⌇ soleon ♡ — carlos oliveira ༝ soleil viella-eirian ⋮ 🐈‍⬛🕸️ ⌇ moonlit dawn ⌇ carleil ♡ — luis serra ༝ soleil viella-eirian ⋮ 🍾🎱 ⌇ rhythmic sunray ⌇ soluis

╰── ﹙ cookie run: kingdom ﹚ ♡

♡ — pure vanilla ༝ jasmine ⋮ 📜🪶 ⌇ morning rhapsody ⌇ pure pepper ♡ — dark cacao ༝ jasmine ⋮ 🗝️♟️ ⌇ midnight rhapsody ⌇ cacao pepper ♡ — pure vanilla ༝ jasmine ༝ dark cacao ⋮ 📜🪶🗝️ ⌇ starlit requiem ⌇ dark pure cinnamon ♡ — elder faerie ༝ rosemary ⋮ 🍸☘️ ⌇ imperial divinity ⌇ saffron faerie ♡ — mercurial knight ༝ rosemary ⋮ 🦢⚔️ ⌇ silver faith ⌇ earl knight ♡ — elder faerie ༝ rosemary ༝ mercurial knight ⋮ 🦢⚔️🍸 ⌇ saintly creed ⌇ elder saffron knight

ch4rryc0smos © 2024

[sayonaramidnight]

Nerd OC talk!

It's Holidays Time so let's get festive.

Does Tanit have a special tradition to celebrate her god? What does she do around Sun Festival, when everyone celebrates Pelor?

Does Helvi make a grand feast for Starlight? Who does she invite? What does she cook, since she is obviusly a great culinarian according to the culinarian job questline?

Back home Tanit usually hid in the dark and lit candles on that day, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she felt like dancing in the sunlit streets a little, she’s pretty curious about festivals of the living. As for celebrating her god, I’m sure once she learns to make the Heroes’ Feast, she’ll prepare one in the nearest graveyard and leave it for the dead. That’s how it was whe she lived with her grandpapa - on each equinox he would send his undead to hunt and gather anything relatively edible and then have them cook it all and leave it outside, in the desert. Next morning it was all gone. Tanit would join him in prayers, often composing her own ones - or songs - and then ran around the household, knocking on the lid of each coffin or sarcophagus, calling out to the dead to wake up and feast.

Helvi’s actually gonna spend a lot of gil on aetherytes, moving from one home to another, Ishgard first, because it’s been this festive for the first time in at least decades, so she helps decorating the city and visits the Fortemps estate for a dinner (Aymeric and the Haillenartes are invited too). Then Limsa, because she absolutely has to visit her aunt and uncle, along with Rhun, Arya and the twins, because auntie adores them all. And finally, playing Saint’s little helper in Uldah, because Nero has made a shitton of toys and Arianna has baked a cake again (and given her word it’ *fine* this time), so no child in the city will walk away empty-handed. Whew... There’s a lot to do, right? But Helvi doesn’t mind. She’s gonna bring grilled fish and cinnamon cookies. A Lot of cinnamon cookies <3

[starryasmo]

Cottagecore MC x The Undateables (Pt. II)

The demon brothers weren’t the only people who had become attached to you during your stay in the Devildom.

The first person besides the brothers who had taken a liking to you was none other than Lord Diavolo himself. Upon seeing you in all of your timid and soft glory, with the scent of light perfume and tea leaves trailing after you and the illusion of roses blooming under your skin from how pink your cute cheeks were, he’d immediately decided that he liked you, chuckling and commenting on how there couldn’t possibly a human cuter than you upon your arrival to the Devildom. You had flushed at this, ducking your head down, doll lashes obscuring your sweet eyes, panicked and flustered and unsure how to respond.

However, after your initial awkwardness around Diavolo, you realized that he was absolutely marvelous as a companion and a friend.

Diavolo was a kindred spirit to you, in a sense — the woodland animals (if you could call them that) of the Devildom seemed to flock to him like he was a cartoon princess, and he was as sweet, gentle, and caring as an angel would be. However, you had noticed that he wasn’t very in touch with nature; seldom did he ever go outside for any reason other than getting from place to place, and the only person besides you who ventured into the castle gardens was Barbatos, the stoic butler. He had felt no need to explore nature, and that did confuse you a bit and make it harder for you to communicate with him, but you dismissed it, as you did with everyone who didn’t really like to be in touch with nature as much as you did.

But one day, when you were spending time lounging in the gardens with a good book and a warm cup of lavender tea, you were pleasantly surprised to see him walk through the ornate door. He’d walked over to you, his nervous demeanor and fidgety fingers an accursed opposition to his status as the future ruler of the Devildom. However, you had sat up, dusted the crumbs of your strawberry thumbprint cookies off of your flowy skirt, and invited him to sit with you, your gentle and sweet smile an invitation that he simply couldn’t refuse. When you had asked him why he was in the gardens, he confessed with an air of nervousness that he’d been looking for you, simply because your demeanor and your aura was one that he felt immense comfort and relaxation in. You had felt flattered at this, of course, but you laughed lightly at his wording. You explained to him that the soothing feeling he had around you was one that came when one was especially connected to nature. Nature was something that served as a bridge between man and the world, and your extraordinary connection to it had enchanted your energies and made you somewhat of a docile force of nature. In order to feel this more often, even when you weren’t around, you explained calmly as you offered him a few of your cookies, he should form a deeper connection with nature.

You had taken his hand in your smaller one to take him up to your cottage in the human world, the calluses on his hands reminding you of the sun baked river pebbles you had collected and stored in a mason jar on your shelf, and he’d been glancing around like an excited puppy upon your arrival into the forest, pointing out the moss climbing up the tall trunks of your friends, the trees, and the vibrant color of your sisters, the wildflowers. He’d been generous in talking about how beautiful your brothers and sisters, the mushrooms and the flowers, were, and you could feel them all blushing under his immense praise. You yourself couldn’t stop your smile as you took him to your cottage. After spending some time in the sunlit kitchen, you baking while he talked about how lovely the forest was, you two left the cottage and made your way down a winding cobblestone path that you seemed to know like the back of your hand, making way to a stretching meadow covered in wildflowers and lush grass. Trees arched overhead, filtering a crystal blue sky. You two chewed on the huge warm croissants you’d made not five minutes ago, hands intertwined as you strolled through the meadow. The bumblebees and ladybugs seemed to notice your presence and buzzed over to you, and he had let out a small exclamation of delight when one landed on your nose briefly, as if giving you a small kiss. He’d leaned over and given you a kiss where the ladybug had landed, right on the tip of your nose, and said that he’d read that ladybugs granted good luck, so maybe he could enhance that. You had flushed a pale pink and laughed lightly, amused. You two had strolled together for a while, basking in each other’s presence and just being in the moment, before he was summoned back for an urgent last minute student council meeting. He, albeit reluctantly, had finished the last of his croissant and beckoned you to follow him into the portal that Barbatos had summoned, promising to do this again with you sometime. You, with your saccharine smile and understanding eyes, had nodded and told him that you would hold him to it. Nowadays, you would leave a few croissants at his doorstep in a hand woven wicker basket with a purple ribbon on the handle, a letter attached to the basket with a thin string, and he would always write you a thank you letter, accompanied by a gift that he saw you eyeing in the store windows at the human world market that you frequented. He remembered that you much preferred letters to texting, much to your silent but sweet delight, and he was more than willing to write to you whenever the mood struck.

Barbatos had found himself rather amused at your delicate presence, your enchanting yet gentle aura reminding him of a fragile fairy flitting about, sleeping among the grasses and lounging in seashells, combing your hair. However, one day, you had managed to startle him slightly when you asked him if he wanted to accompany you to the human world. You explained that before you had been sent down to the Devildom, there was a tea garden that you would visit often, hidden away from most and becoming a haven for any traveler lucky enough to stumble upon it. Sometimes, the nymphs hailing from the twisting stream a few strides away from your cottage would walk in, all giggles and breezy laughs as they snacked on biscuits and rosepetal honey, their silky gowns dripping water across the floor. Other days, you would walk in to find the ram-horned general that guarded the fairy queen’s throne chewing on cute heart shaped jam cookies, dressed in his full suit of armor, or the white hare with five leverets around her, always dressed in a lacy blouse and two blue bows, chewing on her macarons with a wistful grace as she spoke gently about her children. Sometimes, you would start a conversation with the stern old man with skin like the bark of a tree who ordered a glass of wine and lemon bars every time, or the butterfly winged flower dwellers would pull you over to share gossip. You enjoyed the company you found there, and you wanted to share the joy and domesticity you felt with Barbatos, who seemed too cold and pent up to truly feel known, seen, loved. So when you walked with him through the portal and down the silver path only revealed under the luminous moonlight, you found your fingers intertwining with his as you walked, talking idly about your experience in the Devildom. He didn’t react much to the small action, but the white cat with piercing blue eyes who you fed a handful of blueberries one time whispers to you from a tree branch above, saying that Barbatos is enjoying himself. You smile at the feline’s words and squeeze Barbatos’ hand as you make your way into the tea garden. You take a seat by the window, pulling out his seat for him as you smile softly. The owner, a witch with feathers in her hair and a strange likeness to the portrait of a grand dame from the 1700s that nobody really questions and a necklace that dangles with a family jewel that she doesn’t speak of, approaches your table with her kind smile and her wooden tray already holding your usual order; a slice of strawberry rose cake enchanted with the sweet sugary dust that the pixies left behind as their wings shedded, and a glass of a light sparkling drink that shimmered a faint purple and tasted like springtime. One look at Barbatos, and she seemed to know exactly what he wanted. She soon arrived back to your table with a matcha latte in a dark cyan mug with a pawprint pattern and a slice of her signature cinnamon pie. He had thanked her politely, and she had huffed and told him to relax a bit more with a motherly smile before turning to serve others, long black robes floating off the ground slightly as she walked. After you two had finished your food and left, he admitted that he’d enjoyed spending time with you, and that he’d take you here again soon, if only to both see your gentle smile and to honor the promise he’d made to the small frog that held a tiny guitar and sat on the windowsill who he’d become acquainted with.

Spending time with those living in Purgatory Hall turned out to be quite an experience. They had naturally been drawn in by your gentle angel-like appearance, but when they found out you had a sweet personality and a shimmering smile to match, they were quick to show you welcome and adoration.

Solomon was fond of you, mostly because of the magic you harbored within you. You were a mysterious entity, a being whose magical abilities seemed far too powerful for someone as docile and innocent as you, but his little theory was quickly disproven once he voiced it to you and you spoke angrily to him about how you were not some tame little porcelain doll before you dumped your basket of baguettes on his head out of anger and stomped away with a huff, fingers holding up the flowy skirts of your favorite sundress with a vice grip. You later apologized for your actions, and he dismissed it with an air of nonchalance, although the crumbs in his hair and the wrinkles on your skirt were proof that he shouldn’t call you innocent or docile, even if he still harbored those thoughts somewhere in his head. After the incident, you two had proven to be rather good friends, showing off magic to each other during free periods. He would show you runes and spells that he could perform, and you would watch in awe as he covered a room in sparkling lights or turned someone’s figure into a marigold orange or a baby pink. You seemed to like the sparkly and showy spells more, but anytime he performed his spells outdoors, you would let out a yelp and quickly check on the plants and soil nearby to see if they were harmed by the magical properties of his spells. He would always assure you that no, his spells couldn’t harm the nature of any of the three realms unless he willed it to, but you were still anxious about it, always fretting over the fallen leaves and the grassy fields that he demonstrated on. In return, you showed him how to enchant your baked goods and items that you collected. You had been given a jar of honey and a porcelain teacup as an inheritance from the last fairy queen, who tragically passed on “under strange circumstances”, and a lone wizard no older than you who had drank by himself in the corner during the wake of the fairy queen’s funeral showed you how to enchant it, as well as a few other spells. When you had asked him why, he said that he was going to pass soon of an unknown heretic condition, and that he might as well give up his knowledge to another person who seemed so gentle and beautiful. After speaking with him some more, you had made yourself tea after the funeral and added the rich wildflower-infused honey to it, and when you had drank from the gold-rimmed teacup decorated with birds and blossoms, your singing had become sweet and enchanting, able to cause beasts to fall into deep slumbers and flowers to bloom all around you, the tides rising and falling at your command. When you had sang for him one time, it was in the forest while you two were looking for herbs with magical properties — he was looking for the bark of a blackthorn tree and shining willow for a potion he hadn’t tried yet while you searched for juniper berries and ginseng roots to enchant your pastries. He was enamored with your voice, and although the magical properties that had graced your chords had no effect on him, he was still charmed by your song and softly asked for an encore, which you did with flushed cheeks. All in all, you were lovely company to him, and he liked being around you, if only to hear your gentle voice again.

Simeon enjoyed the moments he got to spend with you. Like you, he was more in touch with nature than technology, but you often found yourself showing him how to fix the simpler functions on his D.D.D, such as the caps lock or the brightness or the volume. You two would often travel to the human world to frolic in the golden fields near your cottage, or you would spend time on the roof of said cottage with him, writing flowery poetry to read to the moon from the cottage window. You both were good at writing, but you could hone in on the littlest details about a person or a setting, while he tended to focus more on prose and plot. Solomon had joked that you and him should write a book together someday and that it would sell for eons across the three realms, unaware of the fact that you two absolutely loved writing together under the speckling moonlight. While he could whisper his words to his delicate gold-trim paper and charm it to write whatever he said in fine print, you preferred writing on your worn parchment with a fluffy white quill pen. He would take the opportunity of his free hands to place one atop your hand that wasn’t writing, and you would halt your writing briefly before continuing with flushed cheeks that were clear as day under the moon’s sweet smile. He would always chuckle at you before turning his face back to admiring the radiant celestial being in the sky, but whenever you paused to glance up at him, enthralled by his otherworldly beauty, he would turn back to you as if he could see you without looking at you, and he would give you a little wink. Often, the night would end in you two quietly reading to each other and the moon, voices soft and gentle as you curled up in his arms, skin brushing against each other every now and then, causing a slight shiver to run up your spine and arms, to which he would chuckle lightly. Sometimes, if you two arrived early, you would spend the time picking berries and fruits with him in the forest, and you would snack on them while you wrote. The juices of the sweet foods would stain the parchment most of the time, and they would imprint a sweet scent into the papers. Other times, if you were lucky enough to get to the human realm even earlier, you would take the berries and fruits that had been collected, and you would bake biscuits and tarts with him, sharing them with him and having him feed pieces of them to you on the cozy porch of your cottage while you wrote. Your voice was a heavenly idyllic thing that he treasured, wanted to pluck a piece of and keep in a little glass box, just to have a small piece of you wherever he went. You were someone he adored dearly, and he wanted to be the cause of that innocuous twinkle in your eye, wanted to be the catalyst of that gentle smile you wore like a second skin, always brightening the world around you, natural and beautiful and serene as could be. Or perhaps you wore it as a cloak, a mask to conceal your inner turmoils and sufferings, your deepest pains and fears. Oh, how it pained him to see your broken expression when people mercilessly killed off acres and acres of the forests for their own selfish gain, or when someone pushed you away in disgust and told you that you were nothing more than a horrid blot on the imperfect world. You looked so broken when you cried, and it was a heart wrenching sight that only fueled his want, his desperate need to take your cherubic cheeks in his slender hands, to kiss your eyelids and the crown of your head and hold you gently, sweetly to his chest, to whisper soft reassurances to you and be your pillar of support. No amount of eloquently woven words could express how much you meant to him, and he was willing to wipe away all of your tears and kiss your eyelids and the crown of your head until his lips went numb if it meant that he saw that broken expression one moment less.

Luke absolutely adored you. You were so cute and sweet, and you smelled like sunshine and flowers, and not only did you never call him ‘Fido’ or ‘chihuahua’, but you actually stood up to the brothers and told them (albeit rather gently) to stop when they compared him to a dog or they barked at him in that stupid condescending tone! He was one hundred percent certain that you were an angel of some sort, and he would do anything to keep your sweet and pure presence around him. He would latch onto your side possessively when you two walked together between classes, holding your index and middle finger with his hand while he sent out the most intimidating glare he could muster to any demon who dared to so much as look at you funny, as opposed to the sweet smile you would offer to anyone who locked eyes with you for more than a second. You supposed that, given his appearance, his “most intimidating glare” wasn’t very intimidating — the demons he narrowed his eyes at probably saw his glare and his refusal to leave your side as him hiding behind you, glancing and staring warily at the demons in fear. You were too nice and sweet to be hanging around “those scummy, horrifying, lowest of the low demons”, according to him, and he was dead set on keeping you from being “corrupted and brought down to be tormented more by those selfish creatures”. You would simply laugh your kind and airy laugh before squeezing his hand gently as best you could and reassuring him that you could protect yourself, but you would always fall back on a powerful angel like Luke, to which he preened at the praise and declared that he would always protect you. He was always in awe of you, from your ethereal deity-like appearance of gentle smiles and long flowy dresses and the scent of honey and perfection, to your connection to nature and the way the rocks and the spindly trees seemed to be your brothers, the moon your mother and the wildflowers and rushing stream your sisters, no matter the realm. You were like an otherworldly spirit of the woods, and your grandiose stories and elegant tales of the fairy queen with huge pearlescent wings and her beautiful kingdom always made him visualize you as the sweet and loving fairy queen. One thing he would always put away time for was baking with you. Once he learned that you could bake since you were a child, he was quick to drag you to Purgatory Hall, pulling you into the kitchen and begging you to bake something with him. You had laughed, light and breezy, and calmed him down with a few reassuring head pats before looking through the kitchen cabinets to see if you could find any ingredients that you were familiar with. You found the necessities after a while and nodded for him to join you, his arms full of Celestial Realm ingredients that Simeon had brought down for him. You two baked together, chattering amongst yourselves animatedly as you filled the kitchen with a sweet scent that you’d never smelled before. You were more than happy to talk to him about anything his little heart desired to ramble on about, from his duties as an angel to his favorite treats to bake. You had ended up making your famous ‘night sky’ blueberry and lemon pie that animals from all over the forest would flock to your cottage to have a piece of, as well as glazed lavender honey cookies, complete with a small mason jar of your favorite jam when you were a child, the strawberry and lemon ‘Aphrodite’s Love Jam’. He, in turn, had made what was called Moon Rabbit Cookies in the Celestial Realm, which were dolloped with a shimmery cream and dusted with a pearlescent sugar-like substance that seemed to glow under the lighting of the kitchen lamps, along with the Selcouth Cakes that he’d perfected only recently. They seemed to shift from peachy orange to baby pink to a myriad of other colors, and he explained that the flavors were unknown and depended solely on the consumer’s energies and ethereal aura. When you had tried the small mug-sized cakes, the taste of mint and steeped mountain snow had cooled your tongue and relieved you of the drops

of perspiration that had formed on your forehead during the baking session. Another bite had the taste of strawberries and brown buttercream melting in your mouth and causing you to let out a soft him of nostalgia. He’d tried your cookies with a small spoon of jam and had exclaimed in delight, mouth still full, and immediately swallowed his bite and yelled for Simeon and Solomon to get into the kitchen and try your baking. They’d all joined you, and you all had had fun spending time together and snacking on baked goods, but only you caught the small beaming smile that Luke shot you, and only he saw the sweet and gentle smile that you had returned it with, the faintest trace of pomegranate juice on the corner of his mouth. That moment was when he’d sworn to be your one and only Guardian Angel, here and thus.

You had somehow managed to worm your way into the hearts of not only seven of some of the most powerful demons in the Devildom, but you had also managed to befriend the future ruler of hell, his butler, two angels, and an all powerful sorcerer king with over seventy two demons at his beck and call. You enjoyed their company, naive and sweet and oblivious to the way they would glare harshly at anybody who looked at you wrong or tried to touch you in any way that seemed unfriendly. No, you would go on about your day with a sweet idyllic smile, unaware of the trails of blood your protectors left behind you.

It was almost ironic — the most destructive catalyst in the Devildom wore a long flowy summerdress and a kind smile wherever they went.

You truly were something else.

[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze pt. 9/25

Previous

The winter holidays were a chaotic affair for the wolf pack. Since their own families were a mess it had become tradition to come together as a team and spend the Solstice as one big found family. This year was extra special because it was Ciri’s first winter with them and her first without her own family. This year was Lambert’s turn to host and he was going to make damned sure it was the best Solstice that the team had ever had.

The only problem was his cooking skills.

Cooking had never been his strong point.

When he’d lived with his brother, Eskel had done most of the cooking in the house and had developed quite a passion for it. So Lambert, like any good younger sibling, had quite happily taken advantage of every second of it. Of course, once living together had reached boiling point and they’d decided it was best for everyone to move apart, Lambert’s quality of diet had dropped considerably. He now lived on ready meals and takeaways most of the time, unless Eskel took pity on him, which happened on a fairly regular basis.

He stared at the cook book in front of him. The woman on front was smiling brightly in a sunlit kitchen and holding a ridiculously picturesque pie.

“Fuck it.” Lambert growled as he flipped through the pages to the right section.

He’d brought all the right ingredients and he’d carefully written down all the timings for everything, just like he’d seen Eskel do in the past. He read through the recipe for the roast lamb a couple more times before tying an apron round his waist and pulling his hair back into a bun.

“Cooking. I can do this. Easy as pie!” He grumbled as he pulled the ingredients from the fridge.

Today was all about prep, chopping veg and potatoes ready for cooking tomorrow, baking cookies for snacks during the day. He was also making an onion soup to start with that could be reheated tomorrow. He grabbed his peeler and stared down at the sack of potatoes.

There were so many fucking potatoes.

He was going to be here all day.

He should probably ask for help. Eskel always called him and Renfri round to help chop shit up.

“Fuck off, I don’t need help.” He grumbled and got to work with the potatoes.

He was about three potatoes in when he decided he was going to die of boredom. He washed the starch off his hands and put on some music. The sound of acoustic guitar filled the kitchen. It was some unknown folk band that he’d discovered online by chance, called Dandelion and the Bards. The two lead singers Dandelion and Priscilla harmonised so perfectly that it was like they’d almost been born to sing together.

He spent the next hour or so dancing around his kitchen with the potato peeler and singing along to the songs. The music was so loud he almost didn’t hear the doorbell. He paused, turned the music off and dumped the potato in the bucket of water.

The doorbell went off another three times in quick succession.

Eskel.

“I’m coming you ass!” He called out as the doorbell continued to ring.

He swung the door open with more force than necessary and glared at his brother who was grinning back at him. Geralt was stood behind him with Ciri perched on his shoulders. Geralt raised an eyebrow at his appearance and Lambert looked down at his starch covered apron. He huffed but didn’t say anything, for Ciri’s sake.

“Ah Ciri! Hello little lion cub!” He waved the peeler at the young girl and then paused. “Wait. What day is it?”

“Don’t panic, you big lump. We’re here to help.” Eskel pulled him into a hug and thumped him on the back.

“Oh. Yeah. Well I have it all under control.” He growled.

“Nice singing.” Geralt said with a smirk.

He felt his cheeks heat up, damned ginger complexion. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Sooo… what’s the plan of attack?” Eskel asked as he pushed through into the house. “Apart from putting the heating on. It’s freezing in here!”

Lambert shrugged. “Kitchen’s hot.”

The four of them made their back into the kitchen. Eskel pulled out a bundle of aprons from his rucksack and a cloth carrier that contained his set of actually sharp knives. It took about three minutes to delegate the tasks between the four of them. Eskel was in charge of marinading the lamb and making sure it was properly trimmed and ready to go in the oven. Lambert was to finish the potatoes and start on the veg. Geralt and Ciri would be on cookies. It was a tad cramped in his kitchen with all four of them working together and they almost crashed into each other at every turn but they were laughing and chatting away.

It was actually sort of fun.

He was starting to understand why Eskel enjoyed cooking so much.

They sorted out a game plan for the next day. Eskel went through his list of times and corrected any mistakes. Honestly, how was he supposed to know you were meant to let the lamb rest out of the oven after cooking. Surely that just made the food go cold. He hated cold food but Eskel insisted it would be ok but they had to make sure the plates were heated. In the morning Ciri and Lambert would make cinnamon buns together for team breakfast, Eskel would be in charge of the savoury snacks and salad, and Geralt would make the mulled wine and hot spiced apple juice for Ciri.

That way Lambert wouldn’t be stuck in the kitchen for the whole day and he’d actually get to spend some time with the wolf pack. He breathed a sigh of relief as he collapsed down onto the sofa with a beer in his hand. Ciri was sat by his feet with a glass of chocolate milk and Geralt and Eskel were lounged out on the arm chairs.

“See that wasn’t so bad.” Eskel grinned.

“I would have been fine.” He growled back.

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. “Seemed like you were having a party in there before we arrived.”

He shrugged. “I like to cook to music.”

Eskel almost choked on his beer. “You don’t like to cook.”

He growled. “I do too!”

“You never once cooked!”

“Only because I knew you liked it so much!” He shot back.

“I had fun!” Ciri announced loudly. “Even if Dad did drop flour in my hair.”

“Sorry, Princess.” Geralt grumbled.

“It’s ok! I blame Uncle Lambert! He crashed into you.”

Geralt laughed. “I blame Uncle Lambert too.”

“So what was the music you were listening to, Uncle Lambert?” Ciri asked as she wiped chocolate milk off her nose.

Lambert chuckled as she scrunched her nose up. She still managed to miss a huge smear of chocolate that was on her cheek. He wasn’t even sure how she’d managed to get chocolate that far away from her mouth. Geralt sighed at went to the kitchen to get a damp cloth to help her clean up.

“A band I found on the internet.” Lambert smiled. “You wanna hear some of their stuff?”

Ciri nodded enthusiastically. “Yes please! Dad get off!” She squirmed as Geralt attacked her with the kitchen roll.

“Mucky cub.” He laughed.

“I can do it myself!” She squealed and grabbed for the paper towel. Geralt let her take it and she scrubbed ferociously at her face until she was sure it was all clean. “Good?”

“Perfect.” He ruffled her hair fondly and she grumbled under her breath like an angry kitten.

Lambert went to get his phone so he could put his music back on. The melodic tones of Dandelion’s guitar filled the room. They sat in silence for a few seconds before Eskel chirped up.

“Thought you liked the heavy metal stuff.”

Lambert shrugged. “I’m a man of many tastes.”

“I like it!” Ciri agreed. “Sounds like Mr Jaskier’s playing.”

Eskel and Lambert both rolled their eyes at that. They heard enough about Jaskier from Geralt at work. They had almost forgotten that it was all because Ciri was just as fond of her teacher.

The first song was sung almost entirely by Priscilla. It was a soft heartbreaking number that always left him feeling emotionally strung out. It was only about halfway through that he remembered the cursing and he coughed loudly over the swear words earning a glare from Geralt. Ciri didn’t seem to notice though, thankfully.

The next song began just as quietly on the guitar but this was one of Dandelion’s. The moment he started to sing, Ciri began to scream excitedly and Geralt spat a mouthful of beer out onto the floor.

“Mr Jaskier!!” Ciri shrieked.

“Calm down, Cub.” Geralt spluttered. “I’m sure it just sounds like him.”

Lambert and Eskel exchanged a despairing look.

“No!” Ciri stomped. “It is him!”

Geralt looked at Lambert with a fierce glare. “What the hell, Lambert?”

He put his hands up in defence. “Woah now. I didn’t know anything about Ciri’s teacher.”

“Jaskier isn’t exactly a common name.” Geralt challenged angrily.

“Exactly!” Lambert cried. “It’s not Jaskier!”

“It is!” Ciri demanded with tears welling up in her eyes.

“Well what’s the band called?” Eskel asked as he scooped Ciri up into a hug.

“Dandelion and the Bards!” Lambert exclaimed. “Not Jaskier. The guy singing is Dandelion.”

“No!!” Ciri cried.

“Ciri, Princess.” Geralt said calmly and tried to smooth the young girl’s hair as she squirmed in Eskel’s arms.

“No!!” She repeated.

Lambert sighed and turned the music off. “I’m sorry Ciri. It doesn’t say anything about any Jaskier.”

But it didn’t matter. Ciri was having a meltdown. No matter what they did or said helped her to calm down and in the end Geralt had to bundle the screaming girl into the car with the promise that they would email Mr Jaskier about the band. Eskel left soon afterwards with the excuse that his goat needed feeding and Lambert was left alone once more.

“Ah blessed peace.” He sighed happily as he watched Eskel amble down the road towards his own house.

__________

For the second day in the row, Lambert’s kitchen was covered in flour. Ciri’s hair was now as white as her father’s and her fingers were covered in sticky cinnamon sugar. Lambert’s shirt was covered in tiny floury handprints from where Ciri had hug attacked him, her tantrum from the previous day now a distant memory. He’d reluctantly made sure to uncheck all of Dandelion’s songs from his Solstice playlist. He would miss the calming melodies of his favourite band but it was not worth another screaming match from the youngest wolf cub.

Ciri was dancing happily in the middle of the kitchen. She twirled and leapt about effortlessly with all the energy of a six year old. She was incredibly graceful and Lambert wondered whether Geralt had secretly enrolled her in some sort of dance lessons. That was a thing girls did right? He groaned as he thought about his present for Ciri. He’d probably completely fucked up. He’d bought her a wooden sword and matching bow and arrow set, something he’d always wanted as a kid but never had the good fortune to receive. Ciri would like that right?

He ran a hand through his own hair with a sigh. How the fuck was the White Wolf raising a daughter? It seemed like only yesterday they were all just getting pissed at the pub after every shift. Lambert had to admit. Geralt had guts. He would probably have had a meltdown if the task had been left to him but Geralt seemed to have taken to it pretty well.

“Uncle Lambert!!” Ciri giggled excitably.

“Yeah?” He scowled at her mischievous grin.

“You made your hair all white!” She pointed up at him.

He looked down at his hands in horror and sure enough they were covered in sticky floury dough.

“Fudge.” He caught the swear just in time.

“You look like Dad!” Ciri exclaimed as she spun round in a pirouette.

“So do you!” He shot back.

“Do not!”

“Do too!” He argued and scooped her up into his arms. “And I’m right because I’m the adult!”

“That’s not true!” Ciri countered. “Mr Jaskier says even adults make mistakes!”

“Mr Jaskier hasn’t met me.” He growled.

Ciri laughed. “Yes he has! See you made a mistake!”

“I was testing you.” He grumbled and flushed as he realised the young girl was right. He had met Jaskier at the school back in October.

“Suuure.” Ciri sang. “Now let me down! I want to open my presents!”

Lambert chuckled and dropped the girl gently back on the ground. She sped off out of the kitchen like a blur. It was almost certainly a mistake letting her dip her fingers in the butter and sugar. He grinned. The sugar crash was Geralt’s problem. He was the fun uncle and got to enjoy eating sugar out of the pot. He squatted in front of the oven to check on their creation. The warmth seeped right into his bones and he hummed contentedly. It had been a cold couple of weeks and there was just something unsurpassable about the glow of a warm oven, especially when it contained baked goods. The kitchen was full of the smell of baking and cinnamon, the perfect scent for the winter holidays.

“Wolf!” Vesemir barked from the doorway sternly.

Lambert looked up sharply and almost toppled over from his squat.

“Exactly how much sugar did you give the cub?” Vesemir muttered wearily. “She’s bouncing off the walls.”

Lambert shrugged. “It’s Solstice. Give her a break.”

“Smells good.” Vesemir nodded at the oven with a softening smile. “We’ll make a chef out of you yet.”

Soon enough the oven timer went off and the kitchen was crowded by hungry firefighters. Vesemir ordered them to queue up properly and in no time they were all crammed into the living room. The fireplace was lit and crackling. Ciri stared into the flames, mesmerised by the ever changing patterns of the fire licking up the chimney. Lil’ Bleater was curled up next to her licking at her hands. Geralt had put on a pan of mulled wine and a smaller pan of spiced apples juice for his daughter and the spicy scents had permeated the air. It was warmth and homely. Lambert grinned as he looked around at his family. He’d never felt so at home in his house before.

“Presents!” Ciri demanded as she tore her gaze away from the fireplace. Her face was now covered in icing and crumbs, and her emerald eyes seemed to dance in the light of the fire.

The sound of laughter filled the air. Renfri and Vesemir got to work distributing the presents until everyone had a pile. Naturally the young girl launched towards the biggest present but Geralt had her in his arms before she could tear the brown paper off.

“Dad!” She whined and struggled to get free.

“That one is last.” He ordered. “Promise me?”

She glared furiously at the floor but mumbled an agreement under her breath.

“Good.” He let her go and she picked up the smallest present instead. She looked up at Geralt to make sure it was ok and he nodded with a small smile.

Ciri tore off the wrapping paper to reveal a small jewellery box. She opened it with an adorable confused expression on her face.

“Did you check who it was from?” Vesemir asked.

“Sure.” Ciri growled but Lambert didn’t miss the way she sneaked a glance at the shreds of wrapping paper on her lap that were already being chewed up by Eskel’s demon goat. “Auntie Yen!”

“What is it, Princess?” Geralt asked.

“A necklace, with a bird!” She held the box up to Geralt.

“Looks like a swallow.” Geralt mused.

“That’s what Uncle Vesemir calls me!” Ciri exclaimed happily. “Help me put it on!” She thrust the box into his hands.

Geralt fumbled a bit with the clasp but wouldn’t let Renfri help him and eventually Ciri had a beautiful silver necklace around her neck. The swallow pedant was embedded with what looked like emeralds, and knowing Yennefer, they actually were emeralds.

Most of Lambert’s presents were new pieces of gym kit which suited him just fine. His old boxing gloves had sorely needed replacing so he was very pleased with Renfri’s gift. Although he knew it was probably so they would have an excuse to spar again without him blaming his gloves every time he lost. Vesemir had bought him a new set of guitar strings and a subscription to his favourite boxing magazine, Eskel and Geralt had come together to get him a brand new set of weights, one’s he’d been eyeing up for months but hadn’t been able to justify the costs. Yennefer’s gift was bottle of very expensive vodka that he’d had once in a bar on holiday and had never forgotten. Ciri had bought him a DVD of a film they’d watched together in the summer and a box of his favourite chocolates.

Vesemir had a brand new collection of history and gardening books. He was settled into his arm chair closest to the fireplace with his nose buried in one the books. Next to him was a crystal whiskey glass that Yennefer had bought him. The damned witch seemed to be intent on showing them all up this year with her fancy job and her even fancier salary but who was he to complain?

Eskel had his arms full of new goat supplies from most of team. He turned round to show the little bastard his new stuff when they realised he was missing.

“Where’s Lil’ Bleater?” Eskel frowned as he looked around the room.

Lambert shrugged. The last he’d seen of the goat he’d been munching on brown wrapping paper. Ciri leapt to her feet and started looking for clues to track the goats movements. Something she’d seen on one of her tv shows.

“How about the kitchen?” Geralt suggested. “Goats like food right?”

“Everyone likes food.” Renfri poked the silver-haired man in the arm. “We sort of need it to survive.”

“Goats really like food though.” Geralt insisted.

“Goats eat anything.” Lambert countered. “He could just as well be in the bathroom by that logic.”

“Well I’ve looked under all the wrapping paper and sofas so he’s not in here!” Ciri chimed up from where she was buried half under cushions and half under brown paper. “Oooh what if we track his smell? Lil’ Bleater stinks!”

Eskel gasped at the accusation. “He’s a very clean goat! I take good care of him.”

“There’s a reason Vesemir bought you fancy pet shampoo.” Lambert smirked and punched his brother in the arm.

“Shut it.” Eskel grumbled. “He’s a handsome boy.”

“Who stinks!” Ciri agreed.

“I still think we should try the kitchen.” Geralt insisted and then paused looking at Ciri thoughtfully. “I think I can smell goat from that direction.”

Ciri squealed and ran into the kitchen. “Fucking liar.” Lambert hissed under his breath earning a smirk from Geralt.

They trudged after the young girl. There was no obvious sign of the goat but Lambert could hear a strange scuffling sound coming from the oven.

“He wouldn’t jump in a hot oven would he?” Lambert asked.

Ciri yelled at him for that and hit him squarely in the chest with her wooden sword. Lambert seized the opportunity to fall dramatically to his knees, pretending to be fatally wounded. He let some of his weight fall onto Ciri who shrieked underneath him.

“Uncle Lambert!”

“You got me real good, little lion cub.” He groaned as she tried to hold back his weight. He was still supporting himself enough that she wouldn’t get hurt but she didn’t need to know that. “This might just be my last day in this world.”

“Get off!” Ciri growled. “I didn’t hurt you!”

“I am wounded!” He fell to the floor and pulled her down on top of him.

“You’re an asshole.” Ciri grumbled and there was an echo of shocked gasps from the adults in the  room. “What? It’s not a swear!”

“And it’s true.” Eskel added.

“It is true.” Geralt agreed.

Lambert glared at them both. “Screw you.”

“You’re awfully loud for someone who just died.” Renfri pointed out and he had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t swear colourfully at her.

“Yeah! I told you I didn’t hurt you!” Ciri poked his chest.

A loud bleating ended the argument there.

“Lil’ Bleater!” Eskel cried happily.

Seconds later the a fluffy horned head poked out from under the oven. Lambert hadn’t even realised the gap between the oven and his kitchen floor was big enough for the goat to hide under. He was only a little goat but still it seemed like an impossible accomplishment.

Eskel picked up his beloved pet and swung him round in a big hug. “I missed you buddy! No hiding under ovens again, alright?”

The goat bleated.

“I know, I know. The oven smells of yummy food but you could have been hurt!” Eskel continued.

“Melitele save us.” Renfri sighed and topped up her mulled wine from the pan before stalking back into the lounge. So they could finish unwrapping the presents.

Eskel clipped on Lil’ Bleaters brand new collar and kept the mischievous goat in his lap as he unwrapped his last present, petting his sandy white fur absentmindedly.

Lambert had bought his brother a new cookbook that he was absolutely not allowed to open in front of Ciri. The names of the recipes were all very crude and there were pictures to match. Eskel had barely removed the paper before bundling it into his bag. His face flushed with embarrassment as Lambert cackled until his stomach began to ache. Ciri obviously asked what the big joke was and Eskel grumbled some lame excuse that made no sense. Luckily Ciri seemed content to let it go as long as she could open her next present. Vesemir had bought her a collection of new books after hearing so much about her love of school and reading. Some of them were a little hard for her age but Geralt would be able to read them with her.

Renfri only had two presents. Ciri had bought her a leather bracelet with wolves stitched into the band chasing each other’s tails all around the strap and howling at some unseen moon. The wolf pack and Yennefer had all teamed up to get her a decorative dagger that she’d seen at a craft fair over the summer. It was a beautiful blade, engraved with some kind of fantastical elven language and there was a stunning moonstone embedded into the hilt. It had been extortionately expensive but between the lot of them they had managed to afford it. Renfri’s eyes had lit up when she’d ripped the paper off the box, not quite believing it until she’d carefully lifted off the lid with shaking hands.

“There’s no way.” She whispered and then pulled them into a group hug. Even Vesemir put his book down to pat her awkwardly on the back. The blade fell from her lap with a clatter but thankfully she hadn’t quite managed to unsheathe it.

Ciri pouted at the sudden outburst of emotion but Renfri pulled her into the hug as well. “Your’s was better obviously! You’re the only person to get me their own present. These guys cheated.”

Ciri preened at that and stuck her tongue out at the rest of them.

The hug fell apart when Lil’ Bleater head butted Eskel in the back and they all toppled in a pile on the floor, much to the oldest wolf’s amusement. After that it was Ciri’s turn to open another present. Renfri bought her a new colouring book with glittery pens that Ciri loved. She had a strange obsession with anything glittery. The young girl declared it was because glitter was obviously magical and the rest of the team just couldn’t understand its power.

Geralt’s presents were all of a practical nature, a new toolbox from Vesemir, a couple of new shirts from Yennefer with a letter telling him that he had to wear them or else she would know. Ciri giggled at that but Geralt just looked at the freshly pressed black shirts in disgust. He was definitely more of a baggy t-shirt kind of guy but at least Yennefer hadn’t strayed from his usual colour scheme. Renfri had bought him some new stirrups for Roach. Lambert had bought him a new pair of boots after Geralt had complained about his old ones leaking following a particularly rainy shift at work. Eskel had made a picture frame filled with photographs of their little family. He’d even included a picture of Ciri with her parents and grandparents. The whole team had gotten a little sniffly at that one. Ciri was still yet to get off of Eskel’s lap and had promptly decided that he was the best uncle.

Geralt also had another present in the form of an envelope that he tucked into the pocket of his jeans. Lambert raised an eyebrow at that but Geralt just shrugged it off.

After Geralt’s presents Ciri was the only one with any presents left. She got a new wolf onesie from Eskel, further cementing his place as favourite uncle, much to Lambert’s displeasure. He vowed to make up for it on her birthday. He hated it when Eskel got one up on him.

And then it was time for Ciri’s last present and the last present of the day before they had to get busy in the kitchen for dinner.

She pulled at the paper excitedly and screamed when the guitar case fell into her lap.

“You got me a guitar!!” She shrieked.

Geralt winced at the high pinched tone of her voice and Lambert didn’t blame him. He was sitting across the room and even his ears were ringing. Geralt shook his head. “I got you a Ukulele.”

“A ukulele?” Ciri scrunched her nose up. “Does Mr Jaskier play the Ukulele?”

Geralt nodded. “He can. He thought it might be a better fit for you. It’s like a mini guitar and you’ve still got little hands. There’s some music in there too. Once you learn you’ll be able to read it just like Mr Jaskier.”

“Will he teach me?” Ciri asked brightly and Geralt shook his head.

“Jaskier won’t have much time outside of class to teach you but he has recommended a friend of his.” Geralt explained but Ciri was already scowling.

“I want Mr Jaskier to teach me!” She pouted.

“I’m sure if you ask nicely he can show you some things at school?” Eskel suggested.

“And you wouldn’t want to upset his friend.” Vesemir added from his place at the fireplace.

“Her name is Priscilla and she’s very excited to meet you. You’ll be starting lessons after school when term starts.” Geralt pulled his daughter into a hug.

Lambert almost dropped his mug of mulled wine.

“Sorry what?”

Everyone turned to face him with matching confused expressions on their faces.

“Lessons are after school?” Geralt repeated, raising his eyebrow at Lambert.

“No no… What was her name?” Lambert’s hands were trembling around his mulled wine.

“Priscilla?” Geralt repeated slowly. “He didn’t mention her last name.”

“Fuck!” He cursed.

Ciri gasped and pointed her finger accusingly at him and everyone in the room glared fiercely at him.

“Dandelion is Jaskier!” He yelled out to try and defend himself.

Ciri squealed happily and all the colour drained from Geralt’s face at the revelation.  

“What the fuck, Lambert?”

______

Next

[nightbcrne]

tags

fashion

business clothes

flannel

jackets (as in __ jackets by color)

*** fix by color

pantyhose

shoes

boots

high heels (as in __ high heels by color)

sneakers

*** reorganize shoes by color

shorts

suits

jeans

black jeans

makeup

palette

lipstick

t shirts (as in __ t shirts by color)

tank tops ( as in __ tank tops by color)

types of dresses

casual __ dresses (by color)

dresses with buttons

dresses with pockets

dresses with slits

formal __ dresses (by color)

marriage (for wedding dresses)

spaghetti straps

strapless __ dresses (by color)

u back/neck dresses

v back/neck dresses

x back/neck dresses

types of shirts

__ collared shirt (by color)

__ shirts (by color)

striped collared shirts

***fix the “striped collared shirt” and “collared shirt”

types of skirts

__ skirts (by color)

plaid skirts

floral

__ flowers (by color)

bouquets

carrying bouquets

flower crowns

flower field

flowers in hair

mini bouquets

types of flowers

babys breath

carnations

cherry blossoms

daisies

hydrangeas

lavender

lilies

lotus

peonies

roses

sunflowers

tulips

wilted flowers

food

**baking

bread

breakfast

brownies

cake

candy

cereal

chinese food

chocolate

cinnamon rolls

cookie dough

cookies

cookie cutters

oreos

cream puffs

cupcakes

donuts

eclairs

eggs

**food layout

honey

ice cream

jam

macarons

meringues

muffins

pancakes

pies

pizza

popsicles

sandwiches

scones

sushi

tarts

types of fruits

apples

bananas

blackberries

blueberries

grapes

lemons

oranges

peaches

pears

pineapples

strawberries

watermelon

waffles

girls

blonde

blonde braids

blonde buns

blonde ponytails

platinum blonde

brown hair

brunette braids

brunette buns

brunette ponytails

dark hair

dark hair braids

dark hair buns

dark hair ponytails

hair

redhead

redhead braids

redhead buns

redhead ponytails

spacebuns

***residual posts left behind under “buns” or “braids

braids

dutch braids

fishtail braids

french braids

two braids

home

art

watercolors

beds

cups

food

light

lights

new years day

pillows

sunlit

misc

adventure

animals

bees

butterflies

cats

dogs

foxes

horses

rabbits

sheep

architecture

bricks

exterior

interior

ketterdam

pillars

skyline

tile

walls

blue walls

pink walls

white walls

yellow walls

windows

beach

buttons

christmas

colors (not a tag)

red/orange/yellow/green/blue/white/black/brown/grey/peach

__ and white (alphabetized)

combinations (ex. black and blue and white, alphabetized)

countries (not a tag)

british

french

italian

japanese

russian

embroidery

fabric

fairytale

frozen

geometric

harry potter (not a tag)

hp

magic

quidditch

isolation

lace

letters

lgbt

mamma mia (summery vibes)

magic

minimalist

music (is a tag)

piano

records

sheet music

violins

pain

pins

plants

pottery

bowls

vase

space (is a tag)

moon

stars

sun

soc (is a tag)

inej ghafa

kefta

ketterdam

kaz brekker

nina zenik

wylan van eck

tech

thread

tree

tropical

types of seasons

spring

summer

autumn

winter

urban

wax seal

witches

witchy

regal

architecture

ballet

castles

chandeliers

fairytale

floral

formal __ dresses (for color, including sheer)

***FIX the wedding dresses tag

gems

glitter

headpiece

high heels (as in “color” high heels)

lace

letters

maiden

magic

necklace

parties

perfume

rack of dresses

ribbons

rings

sparklers

wax seal

[firsttitleservices-blog]

Five Pro Tips To Help Sell Your Home This Autumn Season

Looking to sell your home this fall? Congratulations! The football-filled, pumpkin-loving months between September and November are full of home-shoppers looking to wrap up their relocation before the holidays.

And while there is usually no shortage of buyers, the changing season does bring its own unique set of challenges. Luckily for autumn sellers, there are plenty of prepping and staging tricks you can use to make the season work for you.

Here are five pro tips guaranteed set your home apart this Fall:

1. Get Off My Lawn!

The vibrant colors of changing leaves are an Autumn staple, but as those leaves die off and fall to the ground they can leave an otherwise pristine yard looking drab and undefined. Keep your front yard photo-ready with daily rake sessions, paying special attention to paths and walkways.

Removing dead leaves and branches will enhance the Fall beauty for visitors and drivers-by alike.

2. SQUASH Dull Curb Appeal

As green turns to brown and summer colors fade, you need new ways to liven up that front porch. After you rid your yard of dead leaves and branches, introduce some life with seasonal plants and decor. Chrysanthemums and Marigolds are popular fall blooms, and a grouping of pumpkin and squash is a nice accent.

A subtle autumn wreath is a great finishing touch that sets the mood without going overboard on seasonal decorations.

3. Get Lit

Sunlit showings can be hard to come by in the shorter Fall days. Welcome your evening walk-throughs with a well-lit home for them to enjoy. Ensure that you have working (and matching) light bulbs in every room, and that they’re all switched on when your visitors arrive.

Pro Tip: Placing lamps near windows can make your home glow and pop off the curb for anybody looking on from the outside.

4. Keep it Cozy

While spring and summer are all about yards and barbeque, Fall and winter are about enjoying your home from the inside. Keep the thermostat up, and take special care to treat drafty windows. Unscented candles are great decor, and soft draped blankets will have your viewers ready to put on a movie and curl up right there on your staged couch.

Of course, if you have one, a lit fireplace is the mother of all Autumn ambience setters.

5. Pumpkin EVERYTHING!

Nothing says Autumn like hot apple cider and a sweet pumpkin cookie. Or maybe it’s a hot Chai tea with a pumpkin muffin. Pumpkin latte with a cinnamon bagel? Mmmm….

You get the point. Have some sweet treats set out for your visitors. It’s a sure way to enhance their experience in the home, and the lingering aroma of baked pumpkin spice is just cream cheese icing on the carrot cake.

[chaotickit]

i depend on you

[chaotickit]

another fusion!!! sunlit cinnamon cookie (burning spice + pure vanilla)

appears very intimidating and, for the most part, is. but his undying loyalty and protectiveness towards his friends always shines through. he's quite friendly but he just looks scary and unapproachable.

also he and golden jester are absolutely terrible together. Just the worst. interpret that however you want

[chaotickit]

mixed flavors = mixed feelings