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[ownedbycats]

Camouflage

Frogmouth birds perched low on a tree branch look like they are part of the tree

source: Chio Blues

[ownedbycats]

My perfect mashed potatoes

The secret is in the water; literally, it’s IN the water.

See, when you boil potatoes, a lot of special starches and sugars and stuff leeches out into the water. When you drain the water before mashing them, you throw away a lot of good stuff, which is a big part of what makes mashed potatoes “dry” and bland, even when you add large amounts of cream and butter and things.

So don’t throw out any water.

Here’s how you do that:

First, cut your potatoes into smaller cubes than you probably do. (I’ve left the skins on for flavor and also, that’s where a lot of a potato’s nutrients are, like protien and iron and vitamins B and C, just to name a few)

The reason for cutting them smaller (besides avoiding giant peices of skin) is so that there is less space in the pot between each peice for water to fill, so you use less water to cook them. That’s important because you won’t be draining any water, so you can’t afford to have too much water! For the same reason, just barely cover them with water when they go on the stove.

But! Before you do that, put the pot on the stove with some butter, garlic, and seasonings; let the butter start to sizxle just a little then put most of a single layer of potatoes in the pan and let the brown and sear. Turn them, brown them on all sides, get ‘em fairly dark (I forgot to get a pic here because I was worried I’d burn the butter).

Ready? now throw the rest of the potatoes in right on top, and add your water, give them a stir. This way, you’re boiling in some of that lovely fried potato/french fry flavor.

Okay, so, as they cook, you may need to add a little water, not too much! ideally the very highest piece of potato will be poking just above the surface. Now, when your potatoes are really really soft, mash them directly into the water. Just pull them off the stove, leave all the water in, and start mashing. Trust me. At first you’ll think there’s too much water. If you get them mashed and they ARE a little too liquidy, just put ‘em back on the stove. You’ll have to stir often or constantly, but they will steam off additional water without losing any good stuff.

Now add some salt, and taste. Right?! And you haven’t even put in any cream or cheese or anything yet.

Speaking of which, you can use like, a third of the amount of butter or cream or anything, and they will still taste better than usual. So they taste better AND they are higher in nutrients AND lower in fats and salts! That’s a lot of win — enjoy your potatoes!

Fuck Columbus! Indigenous Rights! And happy Thanksgiving!

[ownedbycats]

had a real life "and everybody clapped" moment and im still reeling. spent the rest of the ride comparing butterfly pics with the old lady next to me trying to identify it

[ownedbycats]

[ownedbycats]

considering the manor is completely massive and the only person who spends more than a few consecutive hours there at a time is probably Alfred, i think it would be funny if after the pit, Jason decides after everything he's been through that he can't be bothered to do the whole revenge thing, or sort out safe houses or get an apartment and instead just decides to kill the joker himself and just... secretly go home.

like, as long as he kept an ear out to make sure he wasn't eating in the dining room when Bruce comes down, he could probably get away with walking around without ever being caught. Alfred would find out, i assume, but i think knowing how complicated Jasons emotions towards Bruce are right now, he'd keep it quiet and just be happy that the one other person he trusts to leave alone in the kitchen is finally back. And then, of course, there's the kids.

Damian knew from the beginning. Not because he's especially observant, but because this is his big brother from the league and the first night he spent at the manor Jason crawled through his window in full Red Hood gear and told him not to snitch. Considering that in the league Jason once snuck up behind Ra's and shaved a strip of hair off the back of his head, Damian decides there's far stupider shit the guy could be doing and leaves it be.

Tim finds out next. admittedly, the only reason he finds out is because Jason thought he knew and just stopped attempting to avoid him. in reality, what happened was Tim, having not slept for three days and living off nothing but spite and coffee, accidentally walked in on Jason cooking in the middle of the night, and immediately wrote it off as a hallucination. Jason, seeing Tim find him in the manor and not react badly, decided that 'oh, the replacement must just be chill i guess' and mentally pencilled him in as another person in the building that he can be seen by. it came to a head when a few days later Damian was forced by Jason to invite Tim out with them on their weekly 'eat junk food and talk shit about the rest of the family' outings, since he was a part of the group now. Tim cries.

Dick only finds out because Tim and Damian keep forgetting that Jason isn't supposed to be talked about in public. there comes a point where Tim rips Dick's favourite sweater and when Dick confronts him about it, Tim panics and blurts out 'it wasn't me, must have been jason!', and upon seeing Dick's face, Damian smacks him and grumbles 'good job Drake, now we have to show him Todd or he'll cry again.'. Jason is not overly happy when he sneaks through his bedroom window after going out as Red Hood and finds a sobbing Dick sat on his bed, Tim staring at the ground looking very ashamed while Damian straight face points at Tim to make it clear that this was Not His Fault.

after realising literally everyone in the house sans Bruce knows he's there, Jason decides to just. stop hiding. the fact is that he wasn't trying that hard in the first place, and Bruce still didn't have a clue, so he kinda wants to see how long it takes the 'world's greatest detective' to realise his dead kid is just. back.

so he stops hiding. starts showing up for family meals, starts being more friendly with the bats as Red Hood, and they all wait to see what finally tips Bruce off.

they forget how fucking stupid this man can be.

because if Jason had gone up to Bruce and done some sort of dramatic or emotional reveal then sure, Bruce would be shocked. he'd freak out. but the fact is that Bruce has both Batman and Brucie Wayne to keep up with. He's barely paying attention to his own feet while walking, let alone the people around him.

so when Jason starts showing up and acting like nothings changed, and literally nobody else in the house acts like anything's different either? Bruce straight up forgets that Jason's supposed to be dead. His mind just registers 'oh there are his kids, fighting like usual', and forgets to take in whether or not those kids are SUPPOSED to be ALIVE.

the kids find it fucking fascinating. Jason can actually have conversations with Bruce at the dinner table, and Bruce doesn't even realise that this is a wild fucking thing to be happening. Tim starts laughing at him and Bruce gets confused, only making the poor kid laugh harder. Jason just can't believe he actually bothered putting effort into hiding when he first came back. Damian's respect for his father diminishes every day.

it becomes a game, to see how far it will go. at one point Dick straight up asks who was better as Robin, him or Jason, in an attempt to jog his memory, and Bruce without looking up from the batcomputer goes 'you were both equally good, stop trying to start competitions with your brother'. Dick throws his hands up in the air and Jason, who has been sat on top of his own fucking memorial case to watch this shit show for the past 20 minutes, slow claps.

it's only after like a month of this that half way through a casual family breakfast, Damian asks Jason to pass him the orange juice or something, and Bruce finally has the fucking moment of

he never lives it down.

[ownedbycats]

[ownedbycats]

Guards! Guards! was not the first Discworld book I read but it is the one that punched my angsty, edgy thirteen-year-old self in the face. I have never had a book hit me like that since. Nothing has ever picked me up by the scruff of the neck and shown me my own face in the mirror that way.

I was angsting around, all “the world is terrible” and “people are evil” and “humans are a blight upon the earth” and “everyone is stupid” and Vimes showed up and said, “Yeah, and?”

So what? So they’re stupid and petty - save them anyway. So they’re selfish - save them anyway. So it’s all fucked and there’s never going to be a happy ending - save them anyway. Do it anyway. You don’t get to opt out of caring just because they’re grubby and ignorant and reactionary and petty because so are you and that’s all we’ve got.

No other book has ever changed my worldview in one blow before or since. I reckon that’s something that can only happen to you when you’re a teenager anyway. But I’ve never quite gotten over it.

[ownedbycats]

No one:

Absolutely no one:

Dick Grayson:

Source

[ownedbycats]

The rainbow mountains of Paria, Utah

[ownedbycats]

Today's Sea Lion Is: Making Contact With An Unknown Beast

[ownedbycats]

The upsetting thing about the Internet Archive situation is that they decided to bet everything - their credibility, the crucial work of preservation they've done on the net, the accessibility of materials that otherwise be legitimate lost media - on a truly idiotic proposition for the sake of either "changing bad law" or martyring themselves to it.

And now they're getting martyred for it.

And it's their own goddamn fault.

And we're still going to pay for it, as a society, either paying for their dumbfuck legal pirouette, with the loss of all the material that they claimed to be custodians of but instead endangered recklessly, or realistically, both.

It's fucking maddening.

[ownedbycats]

I can understand how "modern person thrown into the past gets by pretending to be a healer/doctor" is as surprisingly common of a trope as it is. I mean I'm fluent enough at bullshitting to be pretty sure I could pull it off to impersonate a doctor in any time pre-1800s. If I have no idea what something is or how to treat it, I could just get the opinion of the other whatever-passes-as-medical-professionals around, but if their suggestions sound like bullshit I'm not doing it. And I'll beat the shit out of anyone suggesting bloodletting or mercury. With my healing stick. I've tied little bells on it, that jingle comically with every smack.

The awesome curative powers of my healing stick come from two separate sources: Placebo, and me using it to beat anyone trying to give my patients mercury.

[ownedbycats]

I'm pretty sure he also does it as punishment. "You insist on giving me headaches, so I will give you another title."

my favorite thing about Corporal Carrot is that he’s a romantic hero plopped right in the middle of the greediest cesspit of a chaotic neutral city ever to debase the pages of literature, and yet instead of having his shining idealism destroyed by an uncaring reality, he makes reality embarrassedly put down the weapons and agree to make nice, and then mutter an awkward “Good morning” whenever it passes him on the street.

[ownedbycats]

[ID: Photos of a painted clay rectangular relief sculpture of a Przewalski's horse. It starts on the left/hindquarters as a cave painting and then becomes more realistic and higher relief to the right/front. The head is fully 3D and turned to look out at the viewer. End ID]

Painted the second one. I think the black background works better for photos. I'm going to make a few more of these to sell so keep an eye out if you are interested.

[ownedbycats]

During one semester of PE in high school I got put in a section called Team Sports. This was significantly better than a regular unit because the athletic kids were able to play and I largely got to sit and watch.

Months were devoted to what they called Pickle Ball but I’ve since learned was basically ping pong with larger than average paddles. The paddles had been through the absolute wringer, all padding had been rubbed and torn off by a relentless stream of bored adolescents like myself.

This presented me with a unique opportunity. I had a pencil, nominally used to keep score. I had a blank wooden panel. And I had large stretches of time sitting on the sidelines.

Every day I’d pick a blank paddle. I’d doodle little animals, bizarre monstrosities, and a bunch that were just a huge eye in the middle with the words “Big Brother is Watching”. What can I say; I was reading 1984 at the time.

When we finally finished with the paddles and moved on to badminton I completely forgot my dozens of illustrations.

It wasn’t until several years later that it got brought up again. I was hanging out with a friend and their younger sibling. We were listening to them lament their high school experience of the day. “But I won the Pegasus paddle, so that was cool.”

“Wait- what?”

“Yeah, most of them are just Big Brother, so they’re not exciting, but there’s only one Pegasus so we fight over it. Last week I had an elephant I really liked though.”

“You guys fight over the paddles with art on them…?”

“Yeah!”

My friend turned to me and asked, “Didn’t you make all those drawings?”

Their sibling lit up, “You made them?!”

I sat in silence as the complexity of the world and the waves we leave behind as we move through it washed over me. I contemplated how intertwined I was with the rest of existence to create such a beautiful moment.

I had made art on a whim out of boredom and it had an effect on someone else’s day, someone who through random happenstance years later was telling me about it all unknowing.

Their sibling was delighted when I drew them another pegasus on the spot and announced that they’d be the talk of PE now that they’d uncovered the mystery artist.

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