this mess we're in

22

[pi-la]

[shnehollander]

when the sex is a character analysis

[luminarywaves]

Re reading the original hunger games is so funny bcus katniss can literally read haymitch's mind like what. I'm dying of thirst but haymitch hasn't sent me water, that must mean that there's some nearby!! And one kiss is one pot of broth!! Like she even acknowledges that it's strange when she's like oh to peeta this would just be a pot of broth. Haymitch will give her one look and katniss knows immediately what he means and she's right every time

Meanwhile peeta is like your dress really suits you and you look nice :) and katniss is like he's trying to kill me

[fairycosmos]

i love when parents used to say you’ll understand when you’re an adult and then you become an adult and you’re like ohhh i do understand. i understand that you were a weird fucking cunt. i know this because now i am a weird fucking cunt too. and i still don’t treat kids that way

[ponymagnets]

[sonypraystation]

how u doing

im not thinking about it

[emotargaryen]

just remembered this and im cracking up

[emotargaryen]

i couldnt remember the exact words

[twinkhole-destroyer]

you ‘had’ sex? where did it go

[jame7t]

Dude, where’s my kissy. Where is my fuckin snuggles bro

[candyperfumedgirl]

docomo touch wood SH-08C

[louisegluckpdf]

holy quaternity

[5bi5]

Yelling “we got company” right before being attacked by a horde of enemies probably feels good as fuck for an action protagonist

[bisexualr2d2]

Funniest fucking thing about getting into Depeche Mode is that you constantly read about how Martin Gore is the shyest, quietest man to ever live and how he doesn't like drawing attention to himself and yet at least half of the photos of him look exactly like this:

[fairycosmos]

hey idk how to articulate this part of being mentally ill but basically i feel like my life has been stolen from me in the most literal way and i can’t explain it without sounding like im making a million pathetic excuses

[dear-ao3]

so. as you may know it’s christmas eve. as you probably don’t know i am eastern european. and probably the only real tradition anyone holds onto is christmas eve. normally my great aunt does all the food and very begrudgingly sometimes lets everyone help make like. one thing.

well.

this year. the year of our lord two thousand and twenty four. she decided she was done cooking and it was up to everyone else.

so i got a phone call from my mom a few weeks ago being like hey so. you’re making the cake. got it? good.

the cake in question is a walnut cake. i was entrusted with my great aunts recipe about seven years ago. i’ve made it twice. the first time i fucked up the frosting quantity. the second time i fucked up the eggs. both times were passable at best and notably! my great aunt did not taste either of them.

and i have to make this cake. on christmas eve. it is dessert. for everyone. my extended family will all be eating the cake. the walnut cake. on christmas eve. even my great aunt.

so yesterday, december 23 if you are counting, i went on the annual Last Minute Christmas Food Shopping Trip with my father, watched him climb into the case to get his half and half like he does every year, and stressed about my cake as i made sure i had all of the ingredients.

then. we went to my great aunts house. where i was met with Trial Number 1: The Cognac

this cake has cognac in the frosting. not a big deal really. except for the fact that my mom hates that there is cognac in the frosting. (my mom is hell bent on making christmas eve dinner vaguely healthier. no one else agrees.) and i was to be making the cake in my moms house.

also important to note: we (as in my parents) do not own cognac. mostly because none of us drink.

so my great aunt is like oh i have to give you the cognac. cause she knows. i am baking the cake. the walnut cake. (my dad told her. he is a traitor). and i say okay. sure. this won’t be a problem at all.

so she gives me. a shot of cognac. and when i say a shot. i mean an Entirely Full Shot Glass of Three Hundred Dollar Cognac. in a jar. for the cake. the walnut cake. that i have to make.

upon bringing the cognac home my mom says no we’re not putting that in. the cognac sits on the counter in its jar. no one touches it.

then i was met with Trial Number 2: The Frosting.

this recipe requires a pound of chopped walnuts. first. i couldn’t even find the walnuts. my sister and i searched high and low and in every cabinet we could find but no nuts. i called my mom. and said mom where are the walnuts? and she said. “they’re in the nut bag behind the basement door.”

oh of course. how could i have missed the nut bag? a holiday bag full of bags of nuts that was half hidden by wrapping paper and also behind a door?

in any case. could i have used a food processor? absolutely. did i? no. half because i forgot and half because i didn’t want to accidentally grind the walnuts into a paste. so i enlisted the help of my younger sister to chop the walnuts By Hand while i embarked on the real devil: the frosting.

which remember. is supposed to have cognac.

so i cream my butter. i add my sugar. i’m careful not to over sugar. i taste it a million times. i add my coffee and my vanilla extract (instead of cognac. which is still sitting on the counter) and it was all going so well until. the butter rebelled.

now remember. one time when i made this. seven years ago. i made too little frosting. so i made more this time. and i thought i had all my conversions right but evidently i did not because suddenly there was too much liquid in my frosting and it split.

the frosting for the walnut cake that everyone was going to eat. on christmas eve. the very next day.

i felt like a contestant on great british bake-off getting smited by the tent.

so i did the logical thing and shoved the whole mess into the fridge hoping that it would sort itself out overnight.

then it was time to face Trial Number Three: The Cake Itself.

as i have said this cake is a walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake that has been at christmas eve longer than i have been alive. and it requires no less than ten egg whites. which i whipped and i added to my walnuts and shoved the whole thing into the oven in my two baking dishes.

only to discover no less than 40 minutes later that the batter in the pans was Not Even (despite my best efforts). so i cooked one longer than the other and hoped that i hadn’t monumentally fucked up the walnut cake. like i had the frosting. which was in the fridge. and i was ignoring.

which leads to Trial Number Four: The Egg Yolk Cake

see i had ten egg yolks. i didn’t know what to do with them. my mom said flush them. my dad said make a custard. i proposed making egg nog. my mom said she didn’t want it in the house cause it was too fattening (a blatantly incorrect statement. please, if you are reading this, go drink a glass of eggnog. or some other fun festive drink. food is for the soul.) so i produced a recipe for an egg yolk pound cake. i made it. i still don’t know if it came out good cause i haven’t tasted it. i hope it did. but that was not the point. the point is the walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake.

and the following morning i was met with Trial Number Five: The Frosting Part 2

first i threw my failed frosting back in the mixer and it immediately secreted a brackish combination of vanilla extract and coffee so i did the only thing i could. facetimed my dad and said “father there are problems abound.” and he gave me the fatherly advice of “make it again.”

and so i did.

with more correct measurements. still scared it would split at any second.

though it didn’t.

and i didn’t add the cognac.

maybe no one will be able to tell???

my mom said that if anyone asks the first batch of frosting failed and i had to toss it. this is technically true.

but i had frosting. i had two uneven cakes. and it was time for Trial Number Six: Decorating

decorating cakes is easily in my top ten least favorite activities. decorating the christmas eve walnut cake is easily in my top three least favorite activities. because i am terrible at decorating cakes. and also because it has a filling.

the filling is jam. and i once again made the wrong choice because i put the jam on first before the frosting. which to be fair is what the directions say. but as everyone knows, the directions in recipes you get from your eastern european great aunt are not the real directions. so now i had to smear butter cream. on top of jam. for the filling of the walnut cake. for christmas eve. that we would be eating in a few hours.

and we didn’t have a cake plate. we had a large dish.

i had to use my fingers. i had to use three spatulas. i got jam everywhere. but i did it. and as soon as i set the top cake on top of the filling i realized my monumental mistake: i was supposed to trim down the cakes.

so now they were uneven. and lopsided. and there was nothing i, a mere mortal tasked with the impossible task of making christmas eve walnut cake, could do about it.

so i continued to spread my frosting. which i had enough of. and tried and failed to not get jam everywhere.

in the end it was almost presentable. not great. slightly lopsided. and definitely not as nice as any of my great aunts cakes.

which left me with Trial Number 7: Chilling It

our fridge was being taken up by other important christmas eve things (though not as important as my cake. the walnut cake) so i had to put it in the car. which was fine because there is snow on the ground.

i covered my cake. the walnut cake. in tin foil and hoped i wouldn’t accidentally squish it. and then i went outside. i tried to steal my moms shoes to walk outside. she was not impressed.

“you know, saph,” she said. “some of the time you’re pretty great. the other half of the time you’re really weird.”

i could not agree more.

i put my cake on the trunk. prayed to the cake gods and went inside.

on the one hand if the cake is good, i will be stuck making walnut cake for christmas eve for the rest of my life. on the other hand, if it sucks i will never have to make another one.

Trial Number Eight: The Tasting still waits.

[dear-ao3]

the cake. the walnut cake. has survived transportation.

my great aunt peeked at it. she says it looks “very nice.” my aunt thinks i’m being too hard on myself with the cake.

i remain stressed.

[dear-ao3]

it is cake time. walnut cake time. on christmas eve.

[dear-ao3]

Trial Number Eight: The Tasting

it was time to taste the cake. the walnut cake. on christmas eve.

first i was given a giant bread knife to cut the cake. then a normal knife. then i cut it.

and then we ate it.

“so good,” said my great aunt. “you did a good job with the cake.”

she did not ask about the missing shot of 300 dollar cognac.

i am at peace. i am also doomed to a lifetime of making cake. walnut cake. for christmas eve.

merry christmas everyone.

[dear-ao3]

today, in case you did not know, is December 29, a whole five days after christmas eve. the day where we ate the walnut cake. the walnut cake for christmas eve.

i have recieved not one but two texts from my uncle waxing absolute poetry for the walnut cake. that we ate five days ago. on christmas eve. this uncle does not even celebrate christmas. he is jewish.

he said, and i quote, "Hey did I tell you that your cake was fantastic? Dare I say - better than [great aunt's] version. Not exactly sure why, but I liked it better."

and i, because i am terrified of my newfound title of official walnut cake baker, took an hour to respond. but i explained that the only real difference was the lack of cognac in the frosting.

to which, said uncle responded with, "The icing was great. But the cake itself was super good too. Not overly dense. More delicate overall. Brava!"

this is is terrifying news for me personally because now i need to somehow replicate this cake, the walnut cake, for Christmas eve, next year.

the 300 dollar cognac shot is still sitting in my kitchen. i do not drink. but it temps me more every day.

and for all of you asking for the recipe: are you daft? it took me seventeen years to drag this recipe out of my great aunt and another eight to be trusted to make it. she will curse me for all of existence if i dare share it. and also none of you want this recipe. it controls you in ways you cannot fathom. i wake up every night, haunted by walnut cake. for christmas eve.

i wish you all peace and love and that you never ever have to bake walnut cake. for christmas eve.

[markv5]

via https://t.me/russian_cat_meme

[achillesinhighheels]

choosing to ignore my weirdly symbolic dream because i have a lot going on rn already