Some fluffy head canons I have about the Baldurs Babes
mainly at camp :)
Gale stops tav to lace their boots, sarcastically tutting as he does it.
Karlach holds her hands round someones bowl and cups to warm them if they cool down too much. (Mama K microwave™)
Jaheira and Halsin share nightcaps and chat about the tadpole team. Mainly laughing at their comparative lack of experience - always ends on a 'they're good eggs tho' vibe.
Astarion and Shadowheart rate people's hair to eachother as an injoke, tav hears them mumbling numbers behind them whenever they speak to someone.
Lae'zel asks Gale to explain and pronounce things when no one is around because the 'annoying wizard' won't make fun, he's too eager to teach.
Jaheira has the best bedtime stories but they get Karlach hyped up and she asks a lot of questions till Astarion begs her to be quiet. Wyll takes mental notes for his own storytelling.
Karlach will force a game of 'I Spy' any time there is silence on the road.
Wyll is very good at little random gifts, he just remembers anything someone mentions to him. He's also low-key emotional if you return that kindness, 'you remembered?! 😭'
Halsin stops, kneels and whispers as he points and shows tav interesting plants or animals he spots when walking. 'look there's the mother and her babies' type shit. (He is camp dad(dy) ok)
Wyll teaches Lae'zel fencing. She's too keen though and tries to pin him down. She is not as graceful... But she has fun... chk!
Gale keeps a tiny portrait of Tara on him, you can't tell me modern au Gale's phone wouldn't be full of cat pics.
Astarion watches over the camp at night, he acts like he 'might as well/ I'm the only one lurking in the dark around HERE darlings' but sometimes he secretly gets a little teary looking at his first real friends all together.
Shadowheart writes moody poetry. She would tell Gale but she doesn't care for his taste... Or his possible critiques. If he ever did find her journal though he would be VERY enthused.
Astarion and tav will play with people's wardrobes when looting. Tav loves a funny hat and Astarion will do impressions of who he thinks would wear such god's awful attire.
Gale and Wyll play chess together after dinner some nights. They both say progressively cheesy lines when they take pieces, which is its own game itself at this point.
Halsin would quietly sing or hum to owlbear baby and scratch at night. Little lullabies and he'd probably tuck them in too. OR he'd be big daddy bear and snuggle up, especially when owlbear is scared and misses his mum.
The gang have played 'never have I ever' ONE time and ONE time only. It was a messy night.
... Jaheira was 100% last man standing.
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Hey also you know that post about getting better at cooking and handling meat and stuff?
Meat is really expensive and it goes bad pretty quickly.
If you're a new cook and you're trying to figure out how to pan-fry something so that it tastes good, might I recommend tofu?
I'm not saying "treat tofu like meat and try to replace all your favorite meat dishes with tofu" (though, I mean, if that sounds good - go for it), I'm saying "it's a lot easier to practice heating a pan and flipping objects in a pan for a meal and seasoning objects in a pan when the objects in the pan cost two dollars instead of ten dollars."
Tofu lasts a lot longer in the fridge than meat does, is easy to season, and you can easily learn how to pan-fry it into a tasty snack (or main course) and only requires a little extra prep. You can also pretend that the tofu is raw meat (the texture isn't dissimilar) and start practicing for things like how to take it out of a package or cut it on a sanitizable surface, etc.
My favorite way to cook tofu is to press extra firm tofu for at least half an hour (you can get a cheap tofu press for around ten dollars, or you can put it between two plates with some books on the top plate - this is that extra prep i was talking about - tofu cooks best if you press the excess water out), then slice a 14oz cake of it into 8 slices. I lay these flat and sprinkle cayenne pepper, mushroom powder, and smoked paprika on all of the slices, then I rub it in and flip the slices and season the other side the same way. I cook it in a frying pan with a thin layer of avocado or olive oil over medium heat, flipping every two minutes until the flat sides start to crisp up a little. Just before the last flip I add about a tablespoon of tamari sauce (you can use soy sauce, I've just got allergies) to the pan, sprinkling it over the tofu so that both sides get a little bit of sauce on them.
I have that with steamed vegetables and with jasmine rice (with two teaspoons of rice wine vinegar per 3 cups of dry rice and 4.5 cups of water). I also make a honey-siracha-mayo sauce that I dip the tofu in.
It's really good. And now I end up eating leftover rice and sauce with fried eggs for lunch at least two days a week and that's also really good.
This has become one of my go-to low spoon foods because it's so easy to make, it's filling, it tastes good to me, and it has become extremely easy for me to keep a stock of tofu in the fridge compared to the effort of keeping un-expired meat in the fridge.
I find that a 14oz pack of tofu feeds two adults for one meal, though I can stretch that to three meals if I'm the only one eating.
It makes a very cheap, filling, easy dinner that I can keep the ingredients around for without too much concern for food waste or anything going bad (the tofu that I get lasts about a month in the fridge and these days I just buy three packs every time I'm at aldi and cycle in new stock - it costs $1.50 per pack)
If you're interested in becoming a better cook, rather than worrying about actual high-risk products like raw chicken that can be seriously dangerous and also cost a fair amount, tofu has a pretty low barrier to entry while also being a good way to learn on a new ingredient that has some similar properties to raw meat.
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Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says it–the first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.
It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.
It's just–not enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend and–that's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.
He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.
Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.
So he sticks with “boyfriend” and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, it’s not like he has an alternative.
It’s a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. They’re at the farmer’s market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how he’d manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how she’d invited him to a beginner’s apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like she’d been expecting him, and says “Oh, this must be the husband! I’ve heard so much about you.”
Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long.
Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. The husband, that’s me! Ha ha.” Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Dean shifts. “Just didn’t, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.”
The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. “Oh, only good things. Here,” she hands him a business card. “You should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Beekeeping can be wonderful for couples.”
It’s at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. “Thank you, Janet.” (oh. Janet.) “Dean works late on Wednesdays, but I’m very excited to see you all.” He’s pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Dean’s hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls “See you Wednesday!” after them.
Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.
"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.
Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.
"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.
"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.
He turns the keys. He drives them home.
Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).
Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.
It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"
Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."
"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."
"You didn't correct her?"
"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.
"Uh huh."
"It felt trivial."
"To tell her we're not married?"
"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.
Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."
"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.
Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.
"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"
Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"
Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."
Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."
Across the table, Cas grins at him.
"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.
"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."
"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."
They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.
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