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winkwonkwankwenk · 3 months

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Alastor Head-cannons (SFW & NSFW)

SFW

Listened to music a lot with his mother when he was a boy, and occasionally you'll catch him singing. He's still got the voice of an angel despite being a demon.

"Splendid!" "Old friend" His old dialect reminds you he grew up in the 20s- 1920s. You've tried teaching him modern slang but it just doesn't sound right coming from him. His eyebrows furrow when you laugh, "Was what I said funny? Do tell, I'd love a good laugh."

Still brushes his teeth and is intense when it comes to dental hygiene. Don't let the yellow fool you, it's just the new natural color. In general, he's very hygienic. He has a strict shower routine, skin care routine, don't even get him started on his hair routine. Condition, shampoo, rinse, condition again- the list goes on and on. You tried Spa Day with him once, it was more stressful than relaxing.

His hair is naturally curly but he straightens it for a "stronger" look. He thought if he kept his curls he'd be less intimidating, Charlie saw his hair wet once and wouldn't stop trying to pet him.

Will periodically check on Husk and when he can't will send Husk's favorite liquor. He's soulless, not heartless. He does tease Husk on occasion about his friendship with Angel, it's not every day he sees the cat so flustered.

Loves veal. You've walked in on him feasting on Elk and when you backed away he simply raised a brow. "Would you like to join me? There's more than enough to share." He didn't show it, but he was bummed when you politely declined.

Loner but loves company from those he's close with. When he's alone for too long he thinks a little too much on a past he can't erase. Times like this will make him force himself outside to stroll through hell. He's not an imp, he doesn't have to worry about being attacked. You on the other hand? Not so much. When you join him for strolls, he'll keep you beside him and away from the thrashed roads. "Stay close, I'd hate to see you hurt." You think he's oblivious to how buttery smooth his words are at times, little do you know he's been watching every change in your face from your flushed cheeks to your pursed lips. He smirks to himself, knowing he's caught you off guard.

Calls you annoying names when you're grumpy like "Sourpuss". When you glare at him he just flashes that annoying grin.

Owns a lot of other souls besides Husk's and will occasionally sneak up on them just to catch them off guard. He enjoys a good power trip, brings him back to the good ol' days. Kills just don't feel the same now, what a shame.

Not a fan of physical touch. Don't even touch his suit if you're a stranger. He's a bit more lenient with those he considers friends like Rosie and Charlie, and you- but you're a special case. Maybe it's because you asked before doing something as little as fix his bowtie. He didn't know his heart still had that kind of beat, he decided not to dwell on it. "I must be thinking too hard again, I should keep myself busy."

His ears and eyebrows express his actual emotions. He doesn't seem to notice it, but you've caught him writing with his ears down and brows in a U-shape. It's almost like he's pouting, but when you ask his face returns to that empty smile again. "Hm? Oh, yes I'm fine. Just sorting some script troubles for the next broadcast."

He's not used to accepting help, only giving it. When you cheerfully ask beg to help with scripting he can't find a proper way to say no, at least that's what he tells himself. You end up being more of a distraction and he has to push the broadcast back a few days. When you apologize he just smiles wider- you didn't think it could get any wider but it did. "Nothing to apologize for, my Dear. I enjoyed our time together."

Takes his deals seriously as most overlords do. You've witnessed brutal killings, the way his pupils morph when he's torturing a toy. He'll casually wave if he sees you watching. "Enjoy the show, Darling~"

Wakes up at the asscrack of dawn just to be awake. He also wakes everyone in the hotel up with his alarm- which is just a lord recording of himself singing some Jazz song he seems to adore. He won't apologize, but he'll have coffee prepared for everyone.

Doesn't like sweet coffee and is offended when he sips any, glaring at you like you've handed him a cup of shit. "Are you plotting? Why do you make this...Nevermind." He'll be grumpy the rest of the day, voice a low growl and smile a bit sinister.

Likes to Gamble, he's already in hell, what else is there to lose? He makes big bets, the biggest being a tooth from his precious smile. When you tried to warn him about the dealer helping the other player cheat he just winked at you. Before cards could even be shown, both were dead. "I've ruined another good suit" is all he says as if he hadn't just ripped the heads off of two demons.

He used to be dependent on his glasses when he was alive, he was uncomfortable without having them in hell which is why he has the monocle now. He doesn't need it, just makes him feel secure.

His radio voice lags sometimes and he'll simply refuse to talk until it's stable again. You're the only one allowed to taunt him about it without waking up surrounded by acid.

Lets you call him Al, and when Rosie asks him about it his smile closes into a strong squeeze of his lips. He hasn't escaped the teasing from her or anyone else in the Hotel who's noticed. If someone says anything while you're around, they better pray their deal comes with protection. "I suggest you keep your mouth closed." is the only warning given.

Likes strategy games so when you show him modern ones like battleship he's over the moon. He ends up with a board game collection thanks to you since you bring a new one over whenever you're invited to his broadcast station.

"Y/N, Darling, I have a bit of a favor to ask..." and you know you're about to go through hell- well, more of it. His favors always involve hunting someone attempting to break a deal, and most of the hunts are just you tagging along to watch him bloody his hands. At least he looks good in red.

He was quiet when he first met you, now that he's comfortable around you all he does is talk. Eventually he even picks up on your compliments and returns them and then- well, it just sort of happened.

Had no clue how to actually romance. He spent his life fulfilled from killing, not chasing love. After consulting Rosie and Charlie (mistake one, they both teased him shamelessly. It's not every day you see a flustered overlord). He tries pick-up lines but they always come out as jokes, and while your laugh is adorable he can't help but be annoyed. "Surely wooing a woman isn't this difficult, prehaps another method..."

Alastor's love language is gifts but not just materialistic ones. He knows what you like and he makes sure to get you it. You've opened your door to a bloody Alastor cheerfully holding a container of freshly-harvested organs, offering to cook them for you- his way of inviting you over for dinner. He's so excited you can't turn him down, and if you close your eyes you manage to convince yourself you're just eating chicken. He learns how to make your favorite dishes after seeing you forefeed yourself for his sake, and from then on makes them for you when you join him for dinner.

"Do not tell anyone about..." He doesn't know what to call the two of you, the traditional term felt a bit too intense. You know what he means, and although you don't understand it you agree. It's not that he's embarrassed, he knows you'll become a target if others find out too much. He also has a reputation to maintain. Unfortunately, the two of you are painfully obvious.

Adores holding you, especially when he's too busy to give you proper attention. You'll sit in his lap and watch him work, telling him when to take breaks. Sometimes the two of you will read together, his head on your shoulder and nodding when he wants you to turn the page.

Tried to figure out how to kiss you while smiling. You couldn't stop laughing so he gave up and stormed off to sulk. He was expecting you to just sneak up behind him but when you stood on your toes to kiss him, his smile faltered and his face flushed almost as red as his hair. "Y/N, get back here!"

NSFW (Most tame NSFW Head-cannon I've written because he's definetly slow to warm up)

Favorite petnames for you are Honey, Darling, and Sweetness. Sometimes he'll slip up and call you by a petname while around friends or in public. Unlike him, you can't mask your face with a smile and his falters when your friends stare.

He's clingy in public as if staying secret wasn't his idea. He keeps an arm around your waist, fingers intertwined with yours. If someone stares a little too long he'll strike a tentacle at them and they'll run off.

Speaking of the tentacles he seems to sprout, he likes to tease you with them. He'll lightly strike your legs when you're walking to get your attention just to turn away and do something else. He'll sneak up behind you and have a tentacle tilt your chin up so he can kiss you, then quickly leave. He's always in such a hurry, mostly to go peek into his chest and make sure his heart hasn't exploded.

His kisses get bolder as time passes, teeth grazing your lips hesitantly until you pull him closer. Soon he's comfortable enough to slip his tongue in, grip your hair, groan against your lips. These kisses turn into sloppy makeouts that leave your lips kiss swollen and slick between your legs. "We should get back to the group," he says it casually as he licks his lips.

You're needy, he knows, he can practically smell it- he just isn't sure what to do about it. This is something he definitely can't ask Rosie about, so he decides to observed you until he figures out. He didn't think you'd mind him being in your closet or under your bed, listening to you and your toys. You catch him once, face burning as you scramble to cover yourself. "Stay as you are, continue, please- I'm learning quite a bit."

You catch him attempting to file his nails down the next day but they seem to sprout back in seconds. He's irritated, you can tell by the antlers growing on his head. You tell him he could just use his tongue but he insists on doing it exactly how he saw you. You wither under him, hiding your face in a pillow. "You're quite tight, how am I supposed to fit anything when I can barely fit a finger, hm?" He teases, pecking your forehead. He does get curious and decides to have a small taste that leads to him eating you out, tongue buried inside you as he holds your hole open. It must feel good the way you're gripping his hair and antlers, trying to steady yourself as you rock against his face.

You didn't bring up going all the way, you wanted him to initiate it since you weren't sure what exactly his boundaries were. You expected him to bashfully confess his fantasies, instead you heard a knock on your door and then your body thudding against the mattress as he ravaged your mouth. He slams the door closed with a tentacle before ripping away clothes, eyes narrow and focused. His radio voice is gone, his raw desperation showing as he rams into you. "Dammit Darling, I tried to wait...but I've grown impatient. You don't mind, do you?" and when you shake your head no he knows he doesn't have to hold back. Wonderful.

He lets himself get pent up, refusing to let you touch him. At first you worry that you've done something wrong, but he pats your head and says "Y/N, I'll handle it myself." When you look at him with those eyes he can't hide his hunger, and he caves.

Rough? No, he's just passionate. He can't always say how he feels but he knows how to show it. Fingers intertwined with yours, tongues tangled as he stuffs you full. Part of why he lets himself get so pent up is because he loves how it feels releasing it all at once, the way you cry out and clench around him. He doesn't stop until he's fucked you silly, until his voice is static-less.

Rambles when he's close, from "Such a pretty thing, sucking me like this" to incoherent growls and grunts, he's vocal. When he's thrusting into you only his words are gentle, sweet praises like "Good, Good...you can take it~" echoing in your head as he holds it up by your hair.

He likes leaving bitemarks along your body but only where they can be seen. Good luck hiding the one on your wrist, and the one under your chin is exposed whenever you look up. Of course no one dares to mention it, but he gets a kick out of everyone knowing you're his- enemies and reputation be damned.

Like my writing? Check out my Ao3!! Reblogs appreciated!! I have an ongoing Alastor x Reader fic right now that updates weekly! This was actually a little warmup to get the writing going lol

Join my discord!! This is how I announce most story updates!

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#wink writes 💗#alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon #hazbin #alastor the radio demon #alastor smut #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel

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pucksandpower · 19 days

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MILF

Toto Wolff x wife!Reader

Summary: Toto knows his wife is a MILF … but this doesn’t mean he is okay with his son’s friends calling you that

Warnings: teenage boys doing teenage boy things

Based on this request

“Pass the schnitzel, darling,” you say to your husband as the three of you sit down for dinner. Your teenage son has just gotten home from school, and you can’t wait to hear about his day.

Toto smiles at you as he passes the platter of breaded veal. “How was school?” He asks.

Lukas shrugs as he takes a bite. “It was okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

You give him a look. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, sweetie,” you gently chide. Even though he’s almost an adult now, you still see your little boy in him.

Lukas swallows and straightens up. “Sorry, Mum.”

“So tell us about your day,” you prompt. “Learn anything new and interesting?”

Your son fidgets in his seat. “Well … some of the guys were talking about you today.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Me? What about me?”

Lukas glances uncomfortably at his father. “Just … stuff they saw online. Paparazzi photos from when we were on the yacht last month.”

Toto sets his fork down, his expression darkening. He’s no stranger to being in the public eye, but he’s always been protective of you and Lukas. “What exactly were they saying?” He asks in a carefully neutral tone.

“They, uh …” Lukas rubs the back of his neck. “They called Mom a MILF.”

“A what?” Toto sputters, while you have to suppress a laugh. You’re familiar with the crude term, given your substantially younger age compared to your husband.

“It’s not funny!” Toto says indignantly. “I won’t have people objectifying my wife like that.”

You reach over and pat his arm. “It’s okay, dear. I’m not bothered by it.” You turn back to Lukas with an amused smile. “I’m flattered those boys think your old mom’s still got it.”

“You’re not old!” Lukas protests loyally. “It’s just, you know, you’re a lot younger than Vati, and you’re really pretty, so the guys notice.”

Toto scowls, but you grin and blow your son a kiss. “Thanks, sweetie.” Your playful reaction seems to visibly relax him.

“This is unacceptable,” Toto shakes his head. “I should call the school. Get those little punks suspended for sexual harassment.”

“Oh Toto, don’t be silly,” you wave dismissively. “They’re just teenage boys. I’m sure they didn’t mean any harm.”

“It doesn’t matter!” He insists. “Your dignity and privacy should be respected, not exploited. People think because we’re in the spotlight that they can say whatever vulgar nonsense they want.”

You reach over again and lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I know it bothers you, darling. But I married you knowing full well how public our lives would be. A little crude gossip comes with the territory.”

Toto opens his mouth to retort, then pauses, some of the indignation leaving his eyes. “I just don’t want anyone disrespecting you,” he says finally.

You smile softly. Even after all these years of marriage, your heart still flutters at his protectiveness. “I know. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

Lukas makes a face. “Ugh, gross. Can you guys not be all mushy right now?”

You laugh and blow him another kiss. “Sorry Lukas. I can’t help it — your father’s the love of my life.”

Toto smiles back at you, the anger fading from his face. “And you’re mine, schatzi.”

Your son pretends to gag. “Seriously, stop. I’m trying to eat here.”

You chuckle and spear another bite of schnitzel. “Alright, we’ll behave. Now, tell me more about the rest of your day ...”

The conversation moves on to lighter topics as you finish up dinner. You listen attentively while Lukas fills you in on the drama with his friend group and his struggles in history class.

After clearing the dishes, the three of you move to the living room. You curl up next to Toto on the couch while Lukas sprawls out on the carpet to play video games.

You close your eyes contentedly and rest your head on your husband’s shoulder. Despite the lifestyle that being married to Toto provides you with, this right here is your happy place — your little family, spending a quiet evening at home.

Toto wraps an arm around you and presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Have I told you lately how lucky I am?” He murmurs.

You smile up at him. “Even after all these years, you still give me butterflies.”

“Good,” he says firmly. “I’ll tell you every day if I have to, until you’re sick of hearing it.”

Lukas groans loudly from the floor. “Could you guys be any more embarrassing?”

You and Toto both laugh. “What? I can’t tell my beautiful wife how much I love her?” He calls out in protest.

“Not when I’m right here!” Lukas complains. “Get a room or something.”

You grin mischievously. “That’s not a bad idea ...” you say, running a hand up your husband’s chest.

Toto’s eyes darken. “Minx,” he murmurs.

Lukas scrambles to his feet. “Okay, I’m out of here.” He gives you both a look of exaggerated disgust as he heads upstairs.

You and Toto chuckle as you listen to his bedroom door slam shut.

“Now, where were we?” Toto says in a low voice, pulling you closer. You bite your lip coyly as he presses his mouth to yours. No matter how many years go by, the chemistry between you is still electric.

You shift against him eagerly as the kiss deepens. His hands slide down to grip your hips, and you make a soft noise of pleasure. After nearly two decades of marriage, he knows exactly how to touch you.

“Tell me again,” you whisper when you finally break apart, slightly breathless.

Toto gazes into your eyes. “I love you,” he says sincerely. “I will always love you. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You kiss him again, tenderly this time. “I love you too, Toto. Forever.”

No matter what people say or how famous you become, your relationship has always been grounded in this — the unwavering love between you. The rest of the world falls away when you’re together.

You rest your head contentedly on his shoulder again, his arms wrapped around you. This right here, next to the man who still looks at you like you hung the moon, is home.

***

The next day after school, Lukas comes home with a few of his friends in tow. You’re just finishing up putting away the groceries when you hear the chatter of teenage voices approaching.

“Hey Mum, we’re gonna hang out downstairs,” Lukas calls out as the group of boys raids the kitchen fridge for snacks.

You smile and give them a little wave. “Hi boys. There’s more drinks in the pantry if you need it.”

The teenagers rumble acknowledgements through mouthfuls of food before thundering downstairs to your home theater room. You chuckle and shake your head. Teenage appetites are truly a phenomenon.

You’re straightening up the living room when you hear the front door open again, signaling Toto’s return from work.

“Hello, liebling,” he greets you warmly, sweeping you into an embrace.

You kiss him in welcome. “How was work today?”

“The usual madness,” he sighs. “But coming home to you makes it all worthwhile.”

You smile up at him adoringly. Even after all these years, your heart still flutters at his smooth compliments.

“Oh, Lukas has some friends over,” you mention. “They’re downstairs watching movies or playing video games.”

Toto frowns a little. “Those wouldn’t happen to be the same friends who were objectifying you?”

You pat his chest placatingly. “Now dear, we talked about this. Don’t make a fuss.”

“Hmph.” He still looks slightly disgruntled. “Well, I should at least go down and say hello.”

You follow him downstairs, where the group of teenage boys are sprawled out on the sofas engrossed in some action movie. Explosions boom from the surround sound system as CGI buildings crumble onscreen.

They look up when you and Toto enter. “Oh hey Mr. Wolff,” one of them says.

“Vati, you remember my friends right?” Lukas introduces. “Jason, Andrew, Ryan, and David.”

“Ah yes, nice to see you boys again,” Toto says smoothly.

Too smoothly.

You can sense the storm brewing beneath his polite façade.

Sure enough, as the teens’ attention returns to the movie, Toto clears his throat. “So I heard you boys were discussing my wife the other day.”

The room goes silent, save for the cinematic explosions still blaring through the speakers. The boys glance around uneasily.

“Um, we didn’t mean anything bad by it,” David finally offers timidly.

Toto raises an eyebrow. “Oh? So objectifying and sexualizing a married woman is not meant to be disrespectful?”

The teens squirm under his icy stare. You put a warning hand on your husband’s arm, but he continues.

“Let me tell you something about my wife,” he says, an edge creeping into his tone. “She is an elegant, successful, and highly intelligent woman. Not some piece of meat for you ogling schoolboys to drool over.”

The chastised boys all mumble apologies and stare fixedly at the floor.

Toto points a stern finger at them. “I trust there will be no further vulgar comments, or you won’t be welcome in this house again.”

“Yes sir,” they mutter. Lukas looks like he wants the leather couch to swallow him whole. You have to stifle a smile at your husband’s overprotective papa bear routine.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” Toto straightens his suit jacket. “Now you boys enjoy your … movie.”

He turns and heads back upstairs, with you following after an apologetic smile to the shell-shocked teens.

Once you’re out of earshot, you swat his shoulder reproachfully. “Toto! Did you really need to traumatize the poor kids?”

“I didn’t traumatize them,” he huffs. “I just … explained a few things.” At your skeptical look, he amends “ … Firmly.”

You shake your head in exasperation. “You’re impossible. I thought I asked you not to make a fuss.”

He takes your hands earnestly. “I’m sorry, schatzi. I just can’t stand anyone disrespecting you. You deserve to be treated like a queen.”

You soften at the sincerity in his eyes. “Oh Toto. You’re too good to me.” You wrap your arms around him in a conciliatory hug.

He holds you close. “Nonsense. I’ll spend every day proving you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

You snuggle against his chest, reminded yet again how lucky you are. Even when he overreacts, you know it comes from a place of devotion.

“Just promise me you’ll go easy on the boys,” you say wryly as you pull back. “I think you scared them straight for life.”

Toto smiles ruefully. “I suppose I did get a bit … intense. But the message won’t do any harm.”

You laugh and kiss his cheek. “My noble protector.”

He grins. “Proudly.”

Later, as the boys are getting ready to leave, Toto stops them at the front door.

“Before you go, I have one more thing to say,” he announces. The teens glance at each other nervously.

Toto looks each of them in the eye. “If I ever hear of you disrespecting my wife again, I won’t be so kind. You see, she’s actually a MIDF … Mother I Do Fuck.” He enunciates the words pointedly.

The teens’ eyes widen in horror, and Lukas turns bright red. “Vati!” He hisses in embarrassment.

Toto ignores him. “So I would appreciate it if you kept your crude comments to yourselves next time.” He gives them a tight smile. “Are we clear?”

The boys nod rapidly. “Yes sir. Crystal clear, Mr. Wolff,” one mumbles.

“Good.” Toto claps his hands together. “Then get home safely.”

After the front door shuts behind the fleeing teens, Lukas rounds on his father. “Oh my god, Vati! Why would you say that?”

He shrugs unapologetically. “I wanted to make sure they got the message loud and clear this time.”

Lukas just shakes his head in mortification before stomping upstairs.

You slide your arms around your unrepentant husband. “You just couldn’t resist, could you?”

“They left with a healthy dose of fear and respect,” Toto says smugly. “I think my work here is done.”

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youaremysunshine-court · 1 year

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Did anyone ever publish a hannibal cookbook I bet his recipes are to die for

#like obvioisly id swap out the human for lamb or veal but #i bet hed have some really creative recipes and id love to try them

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trupowieszcz-moved · 1 year

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have you ever wondered what people ate in 17th century poland? me neither, but my dad has and since he's a historical reenactor and has reenactor friends, they managed to dig out a cooking book from the period, called Compendium Ferculorum.

this book contains possibly the weirdest recipe i have ever fucking seen, enigmatically called "dish with pancakes", to lull you into a false sense of security. the weirdest thing about it is that it actually tastes really good, and not at all like you would imagine when you initially hear what goes into it.

i understand most of you aren't able to read 17th century polish in a gothic font, so here's the direct transcription:

LXXVI. Potráwá z Naleśnikami Weźmiy Kapłona álbo Cielęćiny, álbo Báránka, porąb, wymocz, ociągniy, odbierz, poley Rosołem, ułoż másłá, pietruszki, soli, warż, á gdy dowiera, wley rosołu, wley Octu winnego, Cukru, pieprzu, Szafránu, Cynamonu, przywarz. Zrob Naleśniki, w materią wsyp trochę Száfranu y Cukru, uwarz Ryżu albo Jaieśnicę usmasz, wsyp Száfranu, Rożenkow drybnych, zawiiay tę máteryą w Naleśniki, w ktorą y Cukru przydasz, zrob z Jáiec máteryą, to iest: rozbiy Jáiec, maczay końce tych Naleśnikow w Jáycách rozbitych, puszczay ná gorące másło, a gdy odrętwiesz, daway te potráwę, a Naleśniki ná wierzch kładź, a zalewáiąc day ciepło.

which, loosely "translated" to modern polish, would be:

76. Potrawa z naleśnikami Weź kurczaka, cielęcinę lub baranka, poćwiartuj, wymocz, oskóruj, odbierz [to nie wiem co mogło oznaczać niestety], zalej rosołem, dołóż masła, pietruszki i soli, gotuj, a gdy zawrze, wlej resztę rosołu, ocet winny, cukier, pieprz, szafran i cynamon, gotuj dalej. Zrób naleśniki, do ciasta dosyp trochę szafranu i cukru, ugotuj ryż lub usmaż jajecznicę, wsyp szafran, drobne rodzynki i zawiń to nadzienie w naleśniki; w rozbełtanych jajkach z dodatkiem cukru zamocz końce naleśników i podsmaż na maśle, a gdy jajko się zetnie, podawaj potrawę z naleśnikami na górze, zalanymi gorącą zupą.

and in english:

76. Pancake dish Take a chicken, veal or lamb, quarter it, soak it, skin it, pick it up [this I don't know what it could mean unfortunately], pour broth over it, add butter, parsley and salt, cook it, and when it boils, pour in the rest of the broth, wine vinegar, sugar, black pepper, saffron and cinnamon, continue cooking. Make pancakes, add a little saffron and sugar to the batter, cook rice or scrambled eggs, add saffron, small raisins and wrap this filling in the pancakes; dip the ends of the pancakes in beaten eggs with added sugar and fry in butter, and when the egg has set, serve the dish with the pancakes on top, drenched in hot soup.

lo and behold, this is what it looks like:

maybe it's not the most appetizing thing in the world, but please trust me when i say that this slaps. this is so fucking good. it has no right of being this good, but it is. why would they eat it back in the day if it wasn't good? this was for high-ranking nobles' kitchens. it had to slap. it had to be over the top and weird.

since the original recipe isn't very descriptive of how much of what you have to add, i'm gonna write it out with as many details as i can for those who aren't as kitchen-savvy and wish to try to make this tasty abomination. unfortunately i forgot to take pictures along the way, so no illustrations, sorry.

Ingredients (for about... 4 servings? I don't know. We had 2 and there was still a lot left):

for the pancakes:

500g of all-purpose flour

4-5 eggs (3 for the batter, 1-2 for later shenanigans)

like a cup of milk

2-3 spoons of sugar (brown sugar would probably be more historically accurate)

saffron (the more the better but watch out, it's expensive as shit)

some water if it turns out too thick

for the broth:

1.5 liters of water

3 stock cubes (if the package says one per 0.5l; otherwise just check what it says)

or you can just make broth from scratch if you want to roleplay a 17th century cook

3-4 chicken drumsticks (or an equivalent amount of veal or lamb)

cinnamon

black pepper

m o r e s a f f r o n

around 120g of butter (half a package if you're polish and know what i'm talking about)

one parsley root

3-4 tablespoons of wine vinegar

a... handful? of sugar. around 2-3 tablespoons, I guess

for the scrambled eggs:

4 eggs (or more; 1 per pancake)

a little bit of milk

1 tablespoon of sugar

e v e n m o r e s a f f r o n if you can afford it

raisins (or dried cranberries or whatever you want that has a similar taste size and texture)

you can also try to make this with rice instead of scrambled eggs. i imagine it can't be that hard.

the steps (there's a lot.):

Sieve the flour and add every other pancake ingredient into it; make sure the saffron is crushed into smaller bits

mix that shit with a hand mixer. it should be the consistency of like, sour cream, so if it's too thick, add a bit of water and check again. it's gotta be generally thick though, make sure it's not too runny (if the consistency is beginning to resemble banana juice, it's too runny already).

heat up the pan, put a little bit of oil on it with a folded paper towel (so you don't burn yourself on accident) and cook the pancakes until they're a bit golden, but not yet brownish in the spots that stick to the pan the most. basically just don't burn them. add a little oil the same way every 2 pancakes.

there's your pancakes, set them aside and move on to other stuff - it's broth time

boil the stock with the parsley root and your meat of choice, but don't add any spices yet, just the fuckton of butter. let it simmer for like an hour. yes, an hour. good soup takes time.

once the time has passed, you can add the spices. notice how i didn't really specify how much of the spices you have to add, and this is because you have to follow your heart and add as much as you can possibly handle eating. no, it's not gonna be too much. add that shit. add 3/4 of a 15g pepper packet. add almost the entire 15 grams of cinnamon. add like a bit of salt, but not a lot this time, just like 2 pinches. ADD THE SAFFRON. add the sugar. add more vinegar than you think would be enough normally. it's gonna boil away anyway.

mix it and let it simmer for even longer. taste it every now and then to see if you can handle it. if a few minutes after doing the dark magic listed above the taste is still very strong, that's good. if it's so strong your throat starts burning, you may be entitled to some more water in there, but if you don't start crying, leave it be. for like another hour.

time for scrambled eggs. rule of the thumb is 1 egg per 1 pancake and 2 pancakes per serving, so if you're cooking for 2, use 4 eggs. easy. add everything that i listed, but if you miss the sugar or the raisins, those can be added after you cook it.

once you have cooked the scrambled eggs, put it on a plate and wash your pan if you don't have another one/don't want to use another one. mix two remaining eggs in a bowl.

put the scrambled eggs with raisins (or whatever you decided to put in there) in your pancakes and roll them as tightly as you can manage. heat up your pan and put some butter on it.

CAREFULLY dip the ends of the pancakes in the mixed eggs and transfer them to the pan with butter. it may be easier to put them on the pan first and pour a little bit of the egg over the ends then, so if you're not sure you can dip them without the entire filling falling out suddenly, do that instead.

fry the pancakes on both sides until the egg is no longer in liquid form.

now, the serving:

pour a ladle of soup into a soup plate

put a piece of your meat in there too if it hasn't disintegrated completely and just started floating around in pieces

put two pancakes in the soup

now you can eat this thing. smacznego :)

I would also like to thank @slavicafire for posting weird old recipes sometimes and inspiring me to take the time to write all of this out :^)

#recipe #history #poland #polish food #historical food #soup #pancakes #eggs

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jabberwockprince · 3 months

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SPINA VENATORES A small organization of mercenaries working for Manus Vindictae, tasked with erasing people from history as a way to call upon the "Storm". Their targets' names, families, influence and connections to this world will be dragged into oblivion.

Individual profiles and some more info/ramblings under the cut <3

The whole point of Spina Venatores is to be a parallel to Vertin's own independent group of Arcanists - the same way St. Pavlov's Foundation has her, Manus Vindictae has Venison and Spina. They're the mouth and teeth of Manus.

But whereas Vertin aims to create a safe, neutral space for Arcanists to thrive without human influence despite being tied to the Foundation, Venison is aiming to create a paradise for those they care about and no one else due to the heavy influence Arcana and Manus have on them.

Spinas Venatores is, at its core, a cult that was allowed to grow thanks to Venison's codependent and obsessive mindset - with them as the leader, all the troublesome and rebellious members of Manus Vindictae (that are much too powerful to get rid of or who are still clinging on to their former lives) will simply be assimilated into Spina or pressured to comply with Manus Vindictae as a whole. The third secret option is dying <3.

They also serve as a narrative device to remind everyone of the fact that, no matter how hard one may try, there's no way EVERYONE can be saved from the "Storm" - all five main members are related in some way or another to Arcanists that Vertin has met, they're people that weren't lucky enough to be taken in, who found themselves in the right time and place for Manus Vindictae to take advantage of their vulnerable state.

R1999 also portrays a LOT of oppression from various minorities that overlap with each other in very interesting ways, so I also wanted them to tackle similar things that mean so much to me - they're problematic queers is what I'm trying to say lmfao

The thing they share is that all of them are delusional to a degree, and that they're constantly haunted and defined by their relationships to others. The loss and discovery of the self through another, Ship of Theseus, cannibalism, body horror, being transgender as a really visceral and intimate experience, an obsession for love in all of its forms etc etc.

I don't have the FULL scope of their backstories, but I do know who they're tied to!

Venison was Pavia's coworker in a constant, obsessive loop of wanting to kill and save each other. Mutton was part of Schneider's mafia and romantically involved with one of her oldest sisters. Chevon was a regular visitor in Necrologist's museum and a friend of hers, she later went on to exhibit his many, many tombstones. Poultry is the "Lilian" mentioned in Darley Clatter's Stories. And Veal is a mystery even to me </3

Their uniforms are meant to look outrageous and outlandish, entirely out of place with the setting and their respective eras/times, inspired by fantasy - just BARELY reminiscent of Manus Vindictae by virtue of using a similar palette, as a way to drive that feeling of not belonging and delusion even harder.

Whereas everyone else is dealing with very real issues, all members of Spina Venatores live pretty much in their own heads (similar to Forget Me Not and how Manus Vindictae causes their recruits to become... YEAH.....THOSE MONSTERS....)

Venison gets the BIG COAT and the biggest silhouette because they're responsible for pretty much 80% of what happens within Spina Venatores! Veal gets the more simple design to allude to their whole unassuming, shapeshifter/Doppelganger thing.

They all have ribcage/bone motifs in one way or another, most of their jewels are meant to look like rosaries, they wear the Manus Vindictae silver cross and Arcana's blue color more often than regular members of Manus. Also! Hands!! Love the fuckin hands!! DID YOU GUYS SEE DIGGERS' MANUS VINDICTAE SKIN???? YEAH.

The naming convention being. types of different meats. is entirely because of Venison, you can ALSO blame that entirely on them <3

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 oc #manus vindictae #spina venatores #purinsu art #my beloved r1999 OCs #also i love drawing stained glass GRRR ITS SO GOOD #i have so much info about these motherfuckers idk where to put it

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moments-on-film · 9 months

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Moments on Film: Carmy and “Just Keep Going”

“Just keep going” is a recurring mantra in The Bear. The first time we hear it, it’s Marcus telling Sydney as he helps her clean up the spilled veal stock in S1. Cousin Michelle says it to Carmy during their poignant scene at the Christmas dinner. Carmy says it to himself by replaying Michelle’s words in his head as he awaits the results of the fire suppression test. The last time we hear it, Carmy says it to Sydney to help her focus and calm down as she’s recovering from Marcus’s outburst in the S2 finale.

I think “just keep going” has been Carmen’s personal mantra his entire life. It has had to be. And while it may have served him well in years prior, I believe it has now, finally all caught up with him.

Because of Carmy’s traumatic and abusive upbringing, he has trained himself to never properly reflect on what just happened. How could he possibly? From what we have been shown so far, his mother is extremely abusive, controlling, manipulative, and threatening. In their brief scenes together, she called him by his brother’s name, threatened him to the point that I believe she physically abuses him, and in fact slapped his face while he was very sweetly comforting her and trying to calm her down. The look on his face after being slapped is gut wrenching, mainly because, as always, there’s so much in his expression—a world of hurt and emotions, and you know he will never tell anyone about what she just did. All he can do is repress his feelings, suppress the urge to react in any way, and literally just keep going. He has to. It’s how he has survived. And it’s killing him.

Gif source: @sarcasmcloud

We still don’t know what Carmy’s relationship with his dad was like. He says he “didn’t really know him well enough to miss him.” Is this true? Or did Carmy also have to survive physical and emotional abuse, in addition to neglect from him, starting at a very young age? Either way, he’s had to keep moving forward and not look back, likely afraid of what will happen if he stops and actually does. This is another reason why he’s always scanning people’s faces, body language and tone to see if they’re mad at him, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. He has been surrounded by erratic, unpredictable behavior. He has had to think ahead, plan his next move, anticipate people’s behavior, reactions and responses so he can be prepared. He has had to live a life of propulsion, never looking back. Staying still, reflecting on the abuse he has had to survive as well as the recent trauma of his brother’s suicide could potentially cause a complete and total nervous breakdown, so he pushes on.

In the flashback scene in New York, we get another, heartbreaking example of how “just keep going” is killing Carmy. His boss is an emotionally abusive tyrant, but for Carmy to call it out, first he would have to acknowledge it. To do that, he might also have to think about and acknowledge the abuse he’s suffered, likely from his dad, certainly his mom, possibly his “uncle” Lee, even his brother. He is not ready to reckon with any of the abusive behavior in those relationships, so he keeps his head down, and does anything he can to get through the day, even if that means vomiting his unspoken feelings out of his sick and exhausted body before every single shift.

Even before New York, which—ironically and devastatingly, was supposed to be a time where he could “decompress” and escape the trauma at home, he was doing anything and everything to stay ahead of slowing down and facing what he’s been through. For years he’s been putting one foot in front of the other, scared to look down, lest he fall off the tightrope.

Presumably since after high school, he’s been traveling around, and in constant motion. Numerous restaurants in California, Copenhagen, then New York. Carmy has so much unprocessed trauma from multiple sources that has never really dealt with, he’s literally been on the run. He has been distracting himself and filling the void by throwing himself into work, and in the words of cousin Michelle at Christmas dinner, he has, in fact, been, “running around like crazy.” He might change his location, but his unprocessed trauma follows him everywhere he goes, causing him paranoia, anger, shame, guilt, self loathing, dread and fear. It’s also made him sick.

The only way to escape is to never be idle for a second, which is why he’s in constant motion. Carmy as a character is rarely completely still. His hands are constantly moving, in S1 in particular he is perpetually running his hands through his hair, feeling his forehead, smoking, and fiddling with his spoon. He hands tremor and tremble when there’s nothing to occupy them. None of this is an issue when he’s scrubbing floors or furiously chopping vegetables. He can be so unsettled and it all stems from the need to stay in motion to distract himself.

Life in a kitchen can easily swallow someone’s entire life. There’s always so much to do—from the prep to the cooking, the tasting, managing staff, actual service, cleaning, ordering supplies, and doing it all over again to keep the place running. Orders come in that have to be filled. It’s relentless, and at the highest level, requires complete and utter focus to be completed successfully. Natalie correctly points out the toll the restaurant takes on Carmy in her first scene with him. “It’s eating you alive”, she tells him. And it is. In S1, Carmy talks about how much time they would spend cleaning at The French Laundry. It’s hard to let your mind wander when you’re in motion and just keep going, so that’s exactly what Carmen does.

The rare moments where Carmy does pause and rest, he has life threatening night terrors, crippling nightmares, and horrible anxiety. In a prior post I analyzed Carmy’s visibly elevated vital signs in S1 and S2. He is so repressed and stressed out it impacts his entire body. With no outlet, his unresolved trauma, undiagnosed PTSD and extreme anxiety manifests inwardly and makes him ill. His dangerously heightened pulse and heartbeat are often visible onscreen. He has trouble breathing. He’s constantly chewing tums or chugging Pepto Bismol to calm his stomach. One of the few items in his apartment visible to Sydney as she enters is a giant bottle of ibuprofen. As I mentioned before, he often looks sick. There’s so much tension coursing through his body sometimes he actually looks like he’s burning up with fever. He’s not taking care of himself. He’s not eating well, and he barely sleeps. His coat is too thin for the freezing Chicago weather, and that’s when he actually wears it to go outside. He blinks his eyes hard in stressful moments, which is a trauma response. The way his body reacts during his panic attacks is frightening. There have been several moments where he looked like he was going to collapse and have a heart attack.

He has been running around, over working himself, repressing his emotions and feelings, neglecting his own needs, health and happiness and in constant motion for probably the past decade. As I detailed in a prior post, Carmy is lost at the present because he’s never allowed himself to slow down and find out who he really is and what actually makes him happy. He’s been in complete and total survival mode.

There is no way he can keep up at the level he has been operating and not completely collapse at some point. I think that’s a huge reason, subconsciously, that he slipped into the relationship with Claire. Among other reasons, he is exhausted and it was a way out and seemingly a soft place to land. She is also probably the first person to physically touch him, maybe in years. Of course he wanted to lean into the potential comfort and care that he thought she might be able to provide. He needs touch and tenderness so desperately that he invited her to the restaurant, his sacred space, mere seconds after she stroked his face, a turning point in their “relationship.”

Claire initially allowed him just enough relief that he wasn’t about to explode. However, in the end, it proved to be such a distraction that it pulled him even further from reality, his duties, and people who he actually should have been spending time with, namely, Sydney. The lack of healthy balance caused him increased anxiety and much more harm than good. His panic attacks actually increased and got worse during his time with Claire. She also only served to unhealthily unearth the past he’s been running away from by bringing painful memories he’s tried to suppress screaming to the surface.

I am very worried about where a potential next season(s) will take Carmy, emotionally and physically. He is headed for a serious crash and burn if he thinks he can just ignore his numerous health problems and keep running from his past. He is only human. They will all catch up with him and I believe they already have.

I’m also worried because we know the writers like to do call backs and tie threads together. Plot points, relationships and lines are never wasted. I’ve said in my posts prior to S2 how badly I think Carmen needs to see a Doctor. The fact that Claire is one, but it never factored into S2 is so odd to me. This is what makes me think we perhaps have not seen the last of Claire.

Carmy physically exhibits crippling distress, and noticeably elevated vital signs, in the form of shallow breathing, rapid pulse, pounding heartbeat and a face that often looks flushed with fever. He actually had a “gnarly” panic attack while he was with Claire. He needs medical attention, but we were never shown her acknowledge this or make a recommendation about the help he needs, or give him tips to calm down, apart from essentially “just ignore your problems and they’ll go away.” This is all so strange to me because Carmy is not well, Claire’s an ER Doctor in residency, and she experienced him during a horrible panic attack. What is the first thing they do at the Emergency Room? Check your vital signs. Can’t she see he’s sick? Wouldn’t she want to help him, personally, not to mention professionally, to get treatment and ease his suffering? It doesn’t make any sense to me.

He has, however, found a new way to self soothe in his most painful moments to calm down his nervous system—with visions of the one thing that helps him stabilize and breathe, visions of Sydney.

I really hope that the next time Carmy and Claire see each other isn’t because he’s being brought to the Emergency Room where she’s a Doctor because of something terrible, like an illness, accident, or major health emergency. That said, I think he is on the brink of a crisis. A major health issue might be the only way for him to stop and actually slow down enough to rethink his life and how he’s been spending it these past years.

Season 2 ends with Carmy believing he needs to double down on his mantra and “just keep going”like he always has, push himself to the max, and sacrifice his entire existence to run the restaurant, but that is not sustainable. It is not service, it is servitude. I believe he is exhausted, burnt out and headed for disaster from living this way for the past decade. He’s a master at masking that he’s barely hanging on by a thread. This is a huge reason why Sydney is his lifeline. Unlike Claire, who’s supposedly “known” Carmy for years, within days Sydney accurately diagnosed Carmy’s problem (S1E2) “you need help”, she told him. She saw through what he was trying to hide, to what he needs most. She caught him before he fell and she’s been holding him this whole time. I honestly believe that by walking in the doors of The Beef, Sydney saved Carmen’s life, but neither one of them truly realizes it yet.

I really hope for the sake of Carmy’s physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual health he will see that slowing down, coming to terms with the abuse and trauma he’s survived, taking care of himself, resting, and getting professional help is a life and death situation for him.

Carmen needs to realize that he hasn’t and isn’t living a full life with the mantra “just keep going.” It has worked so far as a survival tactic but he deserves and needs to live a life where he can be healthy, fulfilled and happy. A life where he’s not just going but growing. I hope he realizes this before it’s too late. For the sake of his health the stakes are extremely high and he has no time to lose. Every second counts, indeed.

#the bear #the bear fx #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #syd adamu #carmy x sydney #syd x carmy #my thoughts #moments on film

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