jabberwockypie:

tansyrr:

cakesandfail:

sassysnowperson:

cakesandfail:

sassysnowperson
replied to your post “it’s looking pretty likely that I’ll be writing Pratchett meta again…”

Well, I’m now consumed with the idea of how each character would do on the Great British Bake Off, so good job there.

I’m not even sorry

the citizens of Ankh-Morpork are already terrified of a blue-eyed bearded man and they have a fine tradition of cake-based double entendres

there’s absolutely no way this wouldn’t work*

*this is a lie#it would not work at all#someone would try to poison the patrician every single week#someone will make their mum’s recipe from their poverty-stricken childhood and vimes will start crying#and worst of all#carrot would try to make dwarf bread#everyone’s gonna have a bad time#let’s all just hope dibbler doesn’t get involved (via @cakesandfail) 

UG FINE I GUESS WE’RE GOING TO DO THIS. 

Cheery’s station is an unholy terror of alchemical nightmares. She has bottles and tubes and there’s smoke and nobody knows exactly what is going on. Her food is usually good, if occasionally exploded.

Tiffany Aching is the young contestant that everyone expects to be slightly a mess and doing her best, what with exams and all. Instead she is terrifyingly efficient, extremely organized, with technical skills beyond her years. 

Interestingly, she bonds with the oldest contestant, one Ms. Weatherwax, who gets into staring contests with the judges. The judges blink first. They try her dishes, and say they taste like, “nostalgia” and “peace” and “that feeling of doing a job well, but not to the best of your ability, with an undercurrent of guilt when someone congratulates you.” They never seem to mention actual flavors. 

Nanny Ogg’s food tastes like apples, she swears. Mary Berry REALLY likes Nanny Ogg.  

Susan the schoolteacher seems like a perfectly sensible, rational young lady- and yet every single one of her showstoppers seems to exist in at least two extra dimensions. Her black forest gateau sculpted to look like her grandpa’s garden is so weird that the judges can’t even look at it properly, but it tastes delicious.

Death wins. Death always wins. “YES. MY SPONGE IS PERFECT. IT’S TRUE.”

I feel like @thebibliosphere should see this.