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#geralt of rivia
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Geralt, very tired: Can I sleep in your bed?
Jaskier: *half asleep* Geralt, this is a queen-sized bed. That means it’s for *gestures vaguely to himself* the Queen.
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spielzeugkaiser · 18 hours ago
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I’ve been sick lately and feel miserable. 😭 Is there anyway to request a cute pic of Jaskier taking care of a clingy sick Geralt?
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Geralt has his peroid! The poor boy. I hope you feel better soon!
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spindelsart · 2 days ago
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witcher stuff
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sirguyofdykesborn · a day ago
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reread the witcher
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mischievous-thunder · 17 hours ago
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jaskierswolf · a day ago
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A lil Geraskier sicfic for a Monday morning!
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"But I'm cold," Jaskier whined, reaching out to Geralt with the most impressive pout and grabby hands that Geralt had ever seen.
 It was annoyingly cute if not a little pathetic, but after a decade of marriage, Geralt was mostly immune to those big blue eyes looking up at him through dark eyelashes... mostly. He still had bad days, but even Jaskier's best pouts had nothing on their daughter. 
"You need to eat, love," Geralt sighed, ruffling Jaskier's hair. 
It was horribly greasy and a mess but even covered in snot and sweat, Jaskier was beautiful. Or perhaps, Geralt was biased.No. He was definitely biased, but he would be a pretty poor husband if he didn't love Jaskier on even his worst days. 
The poor thing had spent the last two days pretty much asleep, barely eating despite Geralt's best efforts, and crawling out for just long enough to go to the loo. It had been miserable. Ciri was worried sick, and Geralt had taken time off of work to look after Jaskier, so the last few days had been rough, but today Jaskier seemed a little more alert so Geralt had dragged him out of the bed to the kitchen for breakfast. On the side was the usual cocktail of cold medicines and hot sweet tea, and Geralt had a pot of chicken and garlic soup boiling on the stove. Not the nicest food for breakfast but it would be easier to stomach after a few days off, and there were nutrients in the soup to help boost Jaskier's immune system.
"Can't I just sleep?" Jaskier huffed, leaning into Geralt's side as they walked. "I'm tired."
"You can sleep once you've eaten, please, Jask," Geralt asked, although really there was no question. Jaskier was incredibly stubborn and petulant when he got sick, but Geralt was worse. Once you had to deal with Lambert as a sulky teenager, then everyone else was a walk in the park.
Jaskier just huffed, blowing his hair from his eyes, stomping over to the counter and grabbing the tablets. It would be a long day but at least Jaskier finally had the energy to put up a fight. They were on the up again, and soon enough Jaskier would be back to his annoyingly cheerful and noisy self once more.
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kenmoos · 21 hours ago
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This is what happens when you draw Blackbeard with Geralt of Rivia on your mind
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darklyhandsome · 18 hours ago
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-*-Forward & Backward-*-
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katestrophe · a day ago
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witcher where everything’s the same except geralt has his hair up in a claw clip
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dazedandinked · a day ago
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Second parcel is on its way!
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wolferals · a day ago
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being roommates with Henry would be like
Henry Cavill x reader
Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex
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being roommates with henry would be like:
-you two are living together because he‘s filming the witcher in town and he thought it would be a fun to live with you
-to spend more time together
-but you two were just friends
-very close friends that talked about everything, but friends
-he‘d leave early in the morning, leaving your apartment smelling like fresh coffee
-when you got up, he was long gone
-you went about your day and got home earlier than him
-you cuddled Kal all afternoon because our boi loves you dearly
-you made dinner for yourself and left some for him in case he was hungry when he got home
-eventually you were woken by the door opening and henry throwing his keys on the table
-sleepily you walked to the kitchen where he stood all tired and moody, munching on leftovers
-„you okay?“ you‘d ask him and he‘d only nod, obviously not willing to talk about it
-you two would spend the late evenings together, sometimes talking about your days
-sometimes you sat in quiet, some soft music blasting on the speaker
-he would be too exhausted to do anything but eventually force himself to take a shower
-you‘d get him a drink sometimes and comfort him as he walked around like a zombie, exhausted from work
-and since you‘d already been asleep before, you‘d only be wearing an oversized shirt and no pants or if it wasn’t as hot of a night, sweats and a crop top
-occasionally henry would take glances at your butt because obviously our boi wants a piece
-you two were idiots, not realizing how much tension there was
-when he got out of the shower, shirtless
-you secretly lost it
-due to his witcher training, his body was more toned than ever
-and boy he knew how hot he was
-how he looked when he sat on the couch with his phone
-flexing without wanting you to know he was flexing
-you two were hot for each other but yet again, really stupid
-sometimes he‘d gift you with small innocent touches when you were cooking together or just brushing your skin, handing you something
-it got you blushing so fast
-and if he were to admit it, he‘d get boners a lot more often than you‘d ever know
-even kal noticed your guys‘s tension and he‘d sit beside henry on the couch; pushing him into your direction
-you two only ever laughed it off
-but our boy kal knew
-he knew everything
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fangirleaconmigo · 17 hours ago
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Speaking of appreciating how sweet, dorky Geralt goes absolutely batshit terrifyingly homicidal when someone threatens someone he loves: The scene in the third game where he confronts Whoreson Junior who just might have hurt Ciri is pretty great. Geralt is terrifying when he wants to be.
I actually think Geralt is a unique hero that way. Like. You tend to have your antiheroes/gritty heroes who kill and are kind of ok with it. Then you have your full on heroes who refuse to kill and if they do on accident or are forced to, it weighs on them heavily. They brood about it. Beat themselves up. Maybe they have become what they fight against etc etc.
Geralt is a unique twist on it. On one hand, he’s not ‘dark’ at all. He’s dorky. Sarcastic. He’s sensitive. He will go to almost any length not to hurt someone’s feelings, even traumatize himself. And so much of the impetus of his protectiveness of Ciri is to protect her from being forced to kill people. He teaches her not to kill out of revenge. He even refuses to kill monsters he thinks are “sweet”!!!! It weighs on his conscience when he kills a monster who is a poor match for him!
And yet?
The minute he thinks someone is a credible threat to the well-being of someone he loves, it’s like a switch flips. He goes absolutely cold and vicious and homicidal. He tears people limb from limb and leaves nothing but quivering flesh behind!
And then?
He walks away and doesn’t seem to give a single fuck. He doesn’t seem to be tortured by it AT ALL. It’s chilling! (And Very cool and sexy actually)
I was even talking about this with my sister (she’s a nerd too. She didn’t like TWN but we talk a lot about stories and characters and writing) I asked her if she thought that was possible in real life. For someone to care deeply about the value of life but then not feel a single thing when they kill someone.
She was like…anything is possible in nature, but that sounds like a very traumatized person. I was like yeah. Sounds like him.
Oh and I’ve only played like 1% of TW3 but I love the “Geralt threatens people for Ciri” genre so I’ll look up the scene.
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bowieandqueen11 · 2 days ago
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Haunt Of The Hunt / Eskel Imagine
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Request: Can I have Eskel comforting you after getting hurt? I live for him just being ✨soft✨
Me too, anon. Me too. Also, I’m sorry I read this as you getting hurt so apologies if I’ve got that the wrong way round! <3
Warning: mentions of injury/ blood/ descriptions of wounds and needles!
(I do not own the Witcher or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @spicyinsanity.)
☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°
The forest seemed to crackle around him, but even it couldn’t hold a flame to Eskel’s charred nerves. Despite his experience, his fingers shook against your arm with every further inch he thread the needle through your patchwork skin. He was too busy worrying about the mossy log you were perched on, a makeshift chair muddled out of this messy campsite the two of you had sprung up a few days prior, and the way your legs were beginning to shiver with the cold of autumn’s bite. His only solace was the waning fire on the edge of the clearing, yet even its flames seemed to crackle and die out against the wind’s power. He sighed, apologising taciturnly, sorrowfully in response to the grunt of pain that slips out as he finishes sewing up the deep gash.
You were too busy trying to take your mind off the agonising pain that seemed to course torrents through your body by gazing over the stretching fields of flowers around your perimeter to ease his own suffering. If only Dandelion were here. He would be able to wax poetic, tune lost to the blooms even despite the circumstances. Even he would be able to find beauty in the waxy wyvern feathers that lay blanketed on the riot of snapping red, burning sugar gold and cloudy cream wildflowers. Within the stars spilled across the sky like thrown pebbles from the shore, the hazy darkness permeated by the still remnant sound of townsfolk yowling back to their homes. Yes, the flowers here truly were beautiful, even if splattered with crimson blood and the scent of death.
It had felt like eons since Eskel had spoken, and the bitter silence was nearly driving you out of your mind with madness. Every so often he would grunt hoarsely, reaching down to focus instead on tying yet another loop of bandage around your abdomen. The scowl on his face told you he was upset - but you knew it wasn’t with you. No, you knew your Witcher too well to miss the sorrow that dipped the corners of his eyes as he wiped the last splashes of Wyvern blood away from your throat. How gentle his strokes were despite the action, how tender his fingers were against your pulse as he tipped you back to look at him.
‘Eskel-’
‘I’m not angry.’ He frowned, quickly and unsightly, but not with malice. More to let you know that he was ashamed of himself for giving away his feelings so easily. For making certain now, that you would worry over him when it was you all the realm’s focus should be on. 
You raise an eyebrow, trying to raise a grin through the pain. Once he finishes wiping away the last drops and drops the rag back down onto his satchel, you sigh in relief at the feeling of Eskel’s warm, broad palm just holding your chin within their safe grasp. Despite the strength of his fingers splayed against the bottom of your jaw, he knows that you’ve noticed how much they’re shaking.
‘I know you too well to know that you’re angry’, you begin to drawl, reaching out with your unbruised hand to brush the back of your fingers against the twisted knot lying on his lip. ‘I also know, that you’re blaming yourself for this. Which is complete poppycock, Eskel.’ He flinches at your touch, still so vulnerable. His golden eyes gaze steadily into your own, though, even through the tears that begin to muddy their sombrely scrunched depths. ‘And I won’t stand for it.’
‘But it was my fault. Y/n.’ He grabs your hand, drawing it away from where it was tenderly and familiarly beginning to trace down the outline of his scar. He instead raises it to his lips, kissing the back and curling it within his own. He rests it against his cheek as he opens up his other arm, offering himself up to you.
You gladly accept, scooting down from your perch and instead resting clumsily on his lap, settling against his racing heartbeat. His hands tighten around your waist, dropping your still intertwined hand onto your thigh. He’s so gentle, so careful not to move you to much as he positions himself back against the tree trunk so you’re resting properly upright. So delicate, as he shifts you against his leather trousers, that it nearly breaks your heart. ‘It was my fault that you were here. I knew I should have left you safe within the inn, instead of allowing you to follow me into the wilds. I was - I was careless.’
You can feel his chin shake against the top of your head as he continues. ‘I....’ he swallows thickly, before taking in a drawn out breath. ‘I could have lost you. And then I would have lost all the best parts of myself. Not even a Witcher can survive when they’re left with just a husk, Y/n. And I was stupid enough to think I was smart enough - I was skilled enough to never let it happen. How foolish I am, and I... I’m so sorry.’
‘Eskel, if I hear you apologise one more time I swear I’m going to Lil’ Bleater loose on you once we get back to Kaer Morhen.’ He laughed at that, hands wringing tighter around your midriff. But he still laughed, and the sound was the most divine noise the path could have ever brought you. 
‘You know, I’m more afraid of Lambert’s reaction if he finds that little devil loose in his room again than I am of the two of you put together.’
‘I don’t doubt it. His swearing rant was enough even to make Vesemir run out of the keep’, you giggle, simultaneously lighting your heart in relief at the soothing tone the grumble of his voice has taken once again. For a moment he’s silent, until you realise the pressure you feel against your back is no longer solely the feel of his armour’s spikes, but the press of his large ear against the dip of your spine. 
He’s listening to your heartbeat, breath evening out in time in a way that makes you believe he’s trying to match his own to yours. He does this often, although he’s too embarrassed to admit it. He likes to slow his rate, mixing the sound with your own until it feels as though one march. One joined parade of lovers, one sole beat, one indication that he could ever live the life of a normal man. Eventually, he will straighten himself back up. He’ll press a kiss against the back of your neck, a lingering one full of compassion and hope and diligence, before resting his forehead back against your hair.
He’ll say his usual musings when he becomes lost. ‘Perhaps’, he’ll whisper into the swift jasmine mist of the night, ‘I will keep you here forever. We can live among the sunflower stalks, and make pomegranate wine and look up at the stars.’
‘And be happy forever?’, you’ll finish, biting your bottom lip. 
‘Hmm’, he’ll reply, sounding far too much like Geralt to make you believe this dream could ever come true. That he could ever escape his fate, and that you wouldn’t become entangled within its clutches. ‘Yes, happy and in love forever, my sweet dove.’ 
His nose will brush against your pulse point as you lean back to kiss him. ‘Sounds like a fortunate life to me, my dear Witcher.’ There will be no more tears today - no heartache, no loss, no foraging for coin and shelter and kindness, no hiding. Just pure adoration, rolling out like basking sunlight from the radiant Witcher wrapped around your back, grasping onto you as if terrified that life will suddenly tear you away.
‘Then I give the rest of my life to you, my love.’
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wanderlust-t · 18 hours ago
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"not wanting to let go" hug or "shielding the other one with their body" for yenralt? (no pressure <3)
thanks for the prompt anon!! here you go some tenderness cause they need it and so do i, hope you enjoy ♡
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16. 'not wanting to let go' hug
Any other day, Geralt standing in the middle of the room and staring at her would be of no significance.
Any other day she would go on brushing her hair and delight under the fondness of his gaze.
But today he is standing behind her and when she searches for his eyes in the mirror, they are not looking. Rather, his gaze is fixed on the floor, or anywhere else than her eyes, and his shoulders are stiff.
Any other day, he would enter the room and take in the scent and his whole body would give in.
She places the brush on the dresser and turns around. "What is it?" Because it is something. Because she may have to guess sometimes and Geralt is just like that but today, after so long and just as they have started getting used in each other's presence around them rather than a ghost, and after that one bloody attack in the woods, it is something.
Geralt raises his head and looks at her. Pleading almost. "I just..." His lips move but no other sound comes out and he's so helpless, craving with arms wide open and still and gaping, waiting for something to fill the void of his silence.
Yennefer peers at him for some moments. Oh, she knows.
He doesn't speak. Doesn't say, I thought you were dead, I haven't held you since the day I saw you alive again. I thought I lost you and I need to be sure I didn't.
She knows. She always knows.
With a deep sigh, she walks up to him, and throws her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. At once, she feels strong arms crawling up her back and holding on tight like an anchor, as though if he holds her close enough she will be real, even more than now. As though if his embrace loosens she will slip through his hands and he will lose her again, and then he will be lost too.
He could. He had, almost, when he chose her, and when he didn't. But none of this matters now.
Now he hides his face in her neck and breathes her in, shaking, taking in all of her as though to lock her essence in his heart and carry her with him always. And Yennefer smiles. "I'm here," she whispers, hand carding though his hair, holding him steady. Grounded. And oh, how she fits in his shape. "I'm not going anywhere."
She hears his breath hitching and, for a moment, he goes tense. "I can let go if you want."
A ridiculous man, truly. She laughs, silent and loving and holds him impossibly closer. "I don't."
A smile against her skin. Geralt tightens his arms as though they fit the whole world in their embrace and really, they do. And he basks in her presence and presses his lips on her neck and breathes and breathes as though he misses her every time he exhales, as though he could miss her a thousand times over just to lie under her warmth.
Full, starving still. He hums and it tickles her neck. "Neither do I."
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theowlseye · 2 days ago
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I think it’s really fun that in the books, Geralt wears a beard once and hates it. In the first two games he’s clean shaven as well but in TW3 they really had to hit home that he’s a dad and gave him a beard. OOC traits can be used for good sometimes.
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darkverrmin · 2 days ago
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Days are Gone, Part 23
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He didn’t hear Jaskier coming in. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s middle, startling him a little. “Sorry,” Jaskier giggled, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s neck. “You’ve been out here for quite a while. Everything okay?”
Geralt nodded. “Mhmm.”
Jaskier pressed his nose to Geralt’s shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.” Geralt’s answered, laying a hand over Jaskier’s on his stomach. He felt himself melting under the younger man’s touch.
It was wonderful.
“Yeah," Jaskier nuzzled Geralt's shoulder. "Me too. Let’s head home then?”
Geralt blinked, turning his head to meet Jaskier’s eyes. “Now? But it’s not even midnight.”
Jaskier shrugged, smiling. “So what? I can get my New Year’s kiss at home, too. And much more than that.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a ridiculous manner and Geralt couldn’t help but to laugh.
***
Continue reading:
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jaskierswolf · 2 days ago
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Easier this Way
Rating: T Ship: Geraskier (unrequited but not actually... Geralt just has issues) CW: Alcohol, bittersweet
AO3
_
Jaskier was drunk, that much Geralt was certain of. The stench of wine surrounded the bard like an aura, sticking to his clothes, his hair. There was a flush to his cheeks that made him look more boyish, and his doublet was half hanging off his shoulders. It had obviously been a fun night for his friend which was a good thing, despite the bitterness it left in Geralt's mouth. Having spent the night in the swamps hunting a cockatrice, Geralt had had a much less entertaining evening. Half of the time he'd been worried about Jaskier back at the tavern, the idiot was a magnet for trouble and without Geralt there to protect him... who knew what could happen? The other half the time he'd been fighting for his own life until the monster had been slain.
And that was just the life he lived.
It seemed that Jaskier had distracted himself thoroughly that evening though, instead of wallowing and worrying about Geralt in turn.
The way Jaskier was hanging off of him was endearing, singing off-key, garbled words and a goblet of wine still in one hand. Geralt smiled softly down at the bard as he stumbled alongside him as Geralt guided them back to their room at the inn. It was the sort of smile that he rarely allowed himself unless he knew Jaskier couldn't see, or, like that night, was too drunk to realise the meaning behind it.
"Geralt, oh Geralt, my loveliest gorgeousest witcher of mine," Jaskier sang brightly, hiccupping and falling into a fit of giggles as he leapt into Geralt's arms.
The sudden weight in his arms made Geralt grunt a little. Despite all his prancing and frolicking, Jaskier was a lot bulkier than he seemed and it always took Geralt off guard. For some reason, in his head he always imagined Jaskier as much shorter and smaller than him. It was probably all the puffy silk sleeves that the bard favoured, his hair cropped short and a youthfulness that never seemed to fade, even in all the years Geralt had known him.
"Hmm," Geralt hummed, still not hiding the smile from the view of the bard. Jaskier just beamed back brightly, his cornflower blue eyes glazed over from the wine, and his lips stained red.
For one blinding moment, Geralt imagined leaning down to kiss him. To taste the wine from his lips, to know what happy noises the bard would make when they kissed. Would Jaskier's hands pull at his hair? Or cup the back of his nape, pulling him in closer? Maybe they would land on his chest, or trail down his back to grope his arse... There were so many options, but it was still just a dream.
Instead, Geralt just held Jaskier closer, making sure that he was supported, even though he seemed incapable of keeping his limbs contained, gesturing wildly as he continued wittering and drowning Geralt in more praise than he really deserved. He probably should have dropped Jaskier back on his arse and dragged him back to their room on foot, but he'd had a long evening and the comfort of having his bard so close was too tempting to pass up. So Geralt kept Jaskier in his arms as he made his way to the inn, blushing deeply with each new flattering word that fell from Jaskier's lips. Come morning, if Jaskier asked, Geralt would just say he forgot to let go. It was easier that way... for both of them.
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purpurniymstitel · 2 days ago
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Is there anything so undoing...
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... as a daughter?
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zrivie · 19 hours ago
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lilac & gooseberry pie
·        Graham cracker crust (don’t tell anyone, but I used a pre-made one for this) ·        Gooseberry jam
·        Graham cracker crust (don’t tell anyone, but I used a pre-made one for this) ·        Gooseberry jam
Filling
·        1 package (8oz) cream cheese, softened ·        1/2 cup lilac-infused confectioners’ sugar ·        1 tbsp lemon juice ·        1 tsp grated lemon zest ·        1 tsp vanilla extract ·        1 cup lilac-infused heavy whipping cream, whipped to medium peaks ·        fresh lilac blossoms
Directions ·         Beat cream cheese, sugar, lemon juice, zest, and vanilla until light and fluffy. ·        Fold in whipped cream. ·        Mix in a handful of fresh lilac blossoms, if desired. ·        Spoon into prepared crust, and top with gooseberry jam. ·        Chill for at least 1 hour.
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ofteasandherbs · a day ago
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He’s simply fun to do art studies on, this being all the values were done first!
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