#YOGHURT PROBLEM

[tartquez]

Every weekend I go to a cafe to order my coffee and little treat so I can sit there and draw for a few hours and every weekend I have to first walk past the cool vibey Italian cafe run by these older Italian gentlemen and go to the (also lovely!) cafe next door instead because I’m genuinely scared one of the nice old men might recognise that I’m drawing baby lesbian Valentino Rossi or something and try and engage me in conversation about him :(

[superfluffychickens]

Can you peel them? Does cooking denature the substance? Burning?

Yes, I’ve learned that cooking them makes them safe for the birdies! I’m not sure how often I’ll do that for them, I barely have enough spoons/energy to prepare my own food on most days, but I just bought a big bag of taters so I’ll do my best to put them to good use!

[hussyknee]

After a solid nine days of worrying me stupid, Moo is back on form.

[koffing-time]

Closed Starter for @thetravelingymleader

It was a slower morning at the café, just a handful of quests sitting in the corners far away from the counter.

"Guys, really!" Tix said, "Is it really so scary? Like, look at this! Is that the face of a Pokémon of mass destruction?"

They're referring to the, relatively, small yveltal sitting next to them behind the counter. Reluctant nodding comes from a middle aged man with a jam filled donut and a cup of black coffee from a table directly next to the door.

Yoghurt in the meantime is grabbing a big donut, trying to stick it's nose through the hole and trying to eat it from the inside out.

"I can not believe Yoghurt is still not bigger than you. This has to be mockery from the universe." Olivia chimes in from another table where he's cleaning up a spilled cup of tea. "It needed like a week to be taller than me and then just stopped growing! Is it not supposed to grow like 10 feet tall?"

"20 if i recall correctly" Tix responds. The guests are shrinking even further into their respective corners. "But i think it doesn't want to lose headpat privileges" they add, stroking the dark type across the head, causing it to make... a kind of noise somewhat adjacent to a cooing sound.

"Hmph" Olivia pouts towards her employer. "Again, I'm sorry it frightened you, i will bring you another tea immediately" she says to the woman sitting at the table she's just finished cleaning.

[queen-mabs-revenge]

so my ma made this instagram chicken shawarma recipe and was raving about it and like aside from being cooked in a loaf tin it was p normal so i went to get chicken thighs this morning BUT THEN there were lamb shoulders in the reduced section down from 18 squids to 4.99 EACH HELLO???

so i got two because i am nothing but my grandmother's grandchild and made the chicken bc i had to bc i already had an opened pack of chicken at home and then lamb with the same marinade and 1) ok some ppl on instagram have rights bc cooking everything in loaf tins was a rly good idea to achieve like a self-basting mechanism while cooking

but 2) fuck i have like a million meat rn and my freezer is a joke so i gotta figure out who to give some of my million meat to

[valky13]

Just got up, took out my breakfast foods, put the pan on the stove, turned on the stove, out in vegetable oil, then sat down and forgot to add the food so i just cooked vegetable oil. ADHD worms eatin good tonight

[astillnight]

personal lol

Frowing up. three separate friends have invited me to the killers concert in my city this dec but I'm broke af 👍

[thewitchness]

GROSSNESS WARNING : LITERAL SHIT

So I drink 10% cream and not have any issues but if I have one glass of 3.25% milk and suddenly I shit myself like I am and have always been lactose intolerant.

Canada, WHAT THE FUCK are you adding in the mix when you reconstitute your "whole" milk from 2%.

[kenyummy]

✰ 03. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 03. each coin can be flipped twice.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: you guys don't know true pain until you have to copy and paste each individual paragraph into a new draft because you forgot how tumblr drafts work </3

n e ways getting into the batfams characterisation yipiieeeee . i tried to incorporate overthinking into tims part realistically bc that's lowkey how i overthink things but hey. im open to respectful criticism. ive also been consuming a lot of batfam media and i tried to my take on their guilt and how it plays into the crazy thing hagaashhaha im going insane fml

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

You'd always been far too normal. That's what had driven you, all these years, to such a bitter nature. It wasn't like you'd done anything wrong—you'd done everything a regular person would do, and that was the problem.

This kind—your kind—of normality was impossible for a family like yours.

Impossible for them to understand. Relate to. See. Always falling behind, watching as their costumes and capes flutter in the wind, blowing their vision of you. Too wrapped up in the latest villain to spot the regularity in their life.

You'd wake up at 8am, eat a slice of toast with yoghurt and mixed berries—do pilates, and go on with your day.

(Your family would stay up till 8, fighting the crime that riddled the Gotham streets with an iron fist—sneaking out of the house to play dress up with a bunch of mentally insane criminals.)

You'd spend your nights at home, having done everything you'd needed to that day—lazing around with a comic book in hand.

(Your family were far too busy most nights at Arkham—preventing their hundredth breakout and the spread of fear toxin.)

You'd watch, pupils dilated as your siblings, your father came home bruised, beat, and bloodied (with whose blood—you could only guess).

You'd watch in agonising silence as they'd shoo you off after you'd peek from behind their doorframe—saying this kind of work wasn't suitable for eyes like yours.

Those same eyes dimmed that day—staring blankly into nothing as the sight of that sickening crimson red became more common to you, with each passing day.

Dripping down onto the ground—you'd never be able to get rid of that blood. No matter how hard you scrubbed the floorboards, there would always be that stain of red.

You'd grip the sheets—nails digging into mesh fabric—with a steel-knuckled hold. You'd draw what it would be like to be one of them. That same blood-red suit—yet with a different kind of venom to a bat.

Crawling up a water spout—you, the spider—were washed out by the bitterness enrapturing your heart that was once full and blooming like the most beautiful of gardens.

Venom drips from your fangs and yet left unbitten. Never poisoning anything but your own tongue.

To be overlooked and unseen with the most brilliant mind a god could conjure; the world, your family—may never love a spider, but you will find somebody, someday, who will.

Tim Drake was not used to that expression on your face.

... Actually—he wasn't really used to any expression on your face. For a moment, it felt more like a blur to him than anything. Memories of you—they were few and far between.

Except that look of pity you'd always seem to give them. The image appeared in his mind suddenly, for whatever odd reason. That sad, almost puppy-ish, expression that he'd never really given a second thought.

(Though—it made you appear more of a baby to him.)

Perhaps he'd just gotten used to it. After all this time, what could've possibly changed?

He was wrapped up with something strange given to him by Bruce when he'd seen you. A strange, web-like substance—he was just getting ready to study it when it dissolved like nothing were ever there.

Like silk, it was soft. Like glue, it was sticky. Like fibers, it was stringey. Yet—after just a few hours, it was as if it never existed. Like it were nothing but a bad dream.

Bruce and Damian talked about it like it were a spiderweb—fitting, considering the hero that wielded it, they described as looking more arachnid than human.

Regardless—his mind was already frazzled and buzzing with all kinds of thoughts. Spider. Spider Web? Spider.

Where is that fucking web?

The stress crawls under his skin like bugs and he itches. The red left over is so familiar to him—but perhaps never the same at all.

(That same red you'd seen with those big, glassy eyes—unlike that motionless gaze you'd give him sparingly. If he bled again, would you look at him kindly like that once more?)

Then, a shoulder crashes into his. Hard. Enough to almost knock the vial out of his hands. The frustration is just about to bubble over—the words crawling up his throat like bile and his chest tightens with that familiar burst of rage.

(Tim, crash-out, Drake—Steph called him once.)

But he stops.

It's only you.

Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be at school? He hadn't been to school in a while—being a vigilante leaves a guy's schedule pretty packed—but he's sure...

"[name]? What are you doing here? Isn't it school hours...?" He asks, curiously.

You blink, face blank. He can't get a read on that face. He simply can't decipher it. It bothers him more than it probably should've. "I felt sick, so I decided to come home. Still a bit frazzled from... you know."

His heart beats faster. What? You went to school? You really went to school?

(Even if he realised it beforehand, it's like the shock runs through him again. What's wrong with him?)

You went to school even though you were shot a few days ago? Did that really happen? Did he... not realise? He's supposed to know this stuff, isn't he? Isn't he the smart one? Doesn't he keep tabs on everybody? Doesn't he look at you?

A cold chill fills his body, and he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. Before he can stop himself, the words spill.

"...Bruce is going to be worried. You know how he feels when you and Damian skip."

You glance to the side, considering something. He wants to know. Will you tell him? He feels like he knows nothing about you anymore. It's dehibilitating.

Since when have you brushed them off so easily? You were never like this before. You used to preen at a simple headpat (not from him—but you seemed to especially love your two oldest brothers) and practically glow when somebody talked with you.

"I think I'll live. Bye." You shrug.

His heart nearly beats out of his chest. What? Why are you acting like this? Don't you care?

Why are you acting like you hate it? You hate them? You don't care? What's wrong with you?

Did you get a concussion when you were shot? Did you hit your head and forget everything? Did you lose your mind after getting lead poisoning? Is this even you? What happened when you were shot?

Every possible question excluding—what has he done?

The bullet he saw in your shoulder flashes in his mind. When Jason practically kicked the door down, carrying your heavily breathing body bridal style and yelling for Bruce to get his ass over here.

Why were you out in the first place? Why weren't you at home? What happened to you? Why were you shot? What could you have done?

He had no time to think about it before. Not when he was so busy, and Riddler was causing up a stir.

Now, he is crumbling.

You're walking away, but his vision shakes. He feels like he's going to crumble. He hates it. This feeling. The feeling of knowing he simply just can't figure this out. He's mad. At you, or himself—he isn't quite sure. Perhaps a mix of both.

Why have you changed? Why did he not realise? Had you even changed? Did he ever know you?

He nearly crushes the vial in his grip. His hand reaches out, to grasp you. Your shoulder. The bullet lodged deep within you. Maybe if he got rid of it, you'd go back. To normal. You'd be your normal self again.

He feels it so deeply.

That crippling, nihilating urge to—

He stops. Watching you walk away. Fast. So fast. He can't catch up. No amount of training could've allowed him to walk alongside his little sibling.

Perhaps he found himself caught in that spider's silky trap—bound and unmoving as he just couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

The empty vial doesn't concern him much anymore. He stares at it with eyes as hollow as the glass is.

Tim wonders when everything changed.

Dick Grayson watched your convulsing body with shaking eyes. A bullet lodged in your shoulder and crimson dripping onto the ground in a sickening rhythm. He couldn't reach out. He couldn't have touched your face. Not when Jason held you like that. Like a guard dog. His bloody helmet slamming to the ground just for Dick to see the absolute fury on his little brother's face.

Pupils blown—Dick knows what's going on. Better than any of the rest of them, he'd even go as far as to say. He's manic. Absolutely manic. Shouting and yelling for anyone—asking what Bruce was doing, letting you out alone this late. What he was fucking expecting.

Nobody speaks. Nobody can. What could they possibly say? That they didn't notice? That nobody did?

Jason might have taken them all on in your honour if he had truly said those words out loud. He always would've, even if he never stayed for long.

Dick almost wants to sock Jason in the face for keeping you away, so close to his own heart.

(He would've done the same, if only he had you. If only you would let him.)

The only thing he can see in his brothers' arms is that child who used to hide in the most obvious of spots. Crouching behind that large TV with the tips of their hair peeking out. Who used to laugh so gleefully when everyone pretended they couldn't find them.

He sees you, and nearly falls over.

Dick Grayson isn't a stranger to blood. Blood had followed his footsteps wherever he goes. He is made of the blood of everyone he lost and fears to lose.

He didn't think you'd fit into the former so quickly.

(You never thought you were either—did you?)

He can't do anything when he sees Jason carry you out. Slipping into a car with Bruce and Alfred and driving off, far past the speed limit.

He is powerless to move. He is useless. As he was when he watched his parents fall. When he was held back by Bruce when he found that vile man.

He hadn't felt like this for a long, long time.

He was the perfect one. He was the best of them. The first. Everything Batman was supposed to be. Nightwing. Robin. Doing everything he could to be what Bruce wanted.

He was the perfect one.

What use was that when your blood stains the hardwood floors?

What use was him not remembering what you looked like until this moment? The only time he'd ever seen you was when a bullet was lodged in your shoulder, and your body was practically convulsing.

... This should never have happened.

You were always the normal one. The most regular. Never tainted by the horrors of Gotham. Bright. Kind. Your eyes were always so kind. Pitiful. You'd always pity them. Wanting to help, but how could he possibly let you?

How could he possibly let you see the shattered expression on his face each time he'd seen you hurting? (Even if it was you hurting for them.)

You never should've...

He stops his own train of thought.

Why were you out, anyway? Hadn't you known how awfully terrible Gotham is at night?

Hadn't he... warned you...?

Dick walks off, eyes following his retreating figure—he can't find it within himself to care. He storms upstairs—almost frantically.

Everything is so quiet. Nobody here. Nobody waiting here like there usually is.

Where you usually are. The end of the hallway. It's brighter over here. The windows more open. The floorboards more bleached by the sun than back where his childhood room used to be.

He almost kicks the door open when his sweaty hands can't get a good grip on the doorknob.

(He can't. He can't destroy the barrier between you both, no matter how hard he tries.)

It slips open, eventually. Dick takes in the sight, silently, eyes darting around.

There's dust littering the air, highlighted by glittering light. The glow of the sun pours into your room like molten honey. Shining down onto your carpet.

There is nothing else.

Your room is so empty. If he didn't know better, he'd thought this were a guest room. Scuffed—but suitable for a short visit nonetheless.

How long have you stayed here?

Dick tries to ignore the bleakness that fills his head when he tries to answer his own question.

He can't bring himself to step inside. Not without you there. He stands in the doorway, as lost as he felt when he world came crashing down with that tightrope.

He feels like a little kid all over again. As helpless as a little kid is in this world.

As helpless as you were.

As helpless as you are.

Your face looked like a blur for all these years. Lingering in the background, but never for long. His nails dig into the calloused flesh of his palm. Hardened from years of fighting, protecting all he cared about. All those he failed to protect before.

He didn't do anything, did he? Not for so long. For as long as Jason died, was it?

... How long was that?

He wasn't sure when you slipped from his mind. So caught up with those beside him—he hadn't seen you slip behind, silently.

That little kid, staring up with tearful eyes. Asking where Jason was. Asking when they could all play together again.

Behind the capes, the masks—behind him, there was you.

Dick would've fallen over if he hadn't caught himself on the doorframe.

How could he have possibly, ever let you out of his sight? How can he stand to look at you when he let this happen? The most regular thing in his life. Something he had never given a second glance.

His chest hurts with a white-hot pain that stings his entire nervous system.

The best of them all—it was never him. It was always you, wasn't it?

The one keeping him grounded was you—he feels like his heart can't beat properly. Clutching it hard, nothing works. The ache stings, but nothing feels worse than his mind spiralling with thoughts of you laying in a hospital gown with red seeping out your side.

He will never, ever let something like this happen to you again.

Dick will let you know you'll never need to worry about anything again as long as your favourite big brother is here.

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[redflagshipwriter]

batmom cass: reveal

masterpost

Oh. Fuck. He was invisible. A flood of genuine fear washed through him. He was discovered again, he was away from any allies, he had to get away-

Danny went intangible out of sheer survival instinct and lurched downwards. Bruce made a punched-out sound and lunged to grab him. He actually got his hand around Danny’s wrist and clenched despite Danny being invisible to human eyes. It was no use. Danny slipped through his grip, the chair, and then the floor.

He caught himself there and paused, hovering in the flooring. He could see the weird joints underneath the kitchen, a dark crawl space with way more spiders than Alfred could possibly know about. One of them reared up and waved its front legs at him in what was either a threat or a greeting. Danny shuddered involuntarily and pulled back a little to give the arachnid personal space.

“Danny?” Cass’s voice was muffled but calm. “Sit in your chair, please.”

She made it sound so sensible.

He blinked rapidly. “Right. Right, okay.” He floated back up through the floor and avoided eye contact as he settled back into place and the visible spectrum. He stole a glance around the room. Cass and Damian looked unaffected. Bruce’s face said the same, but the pulse point was jumping rapidly in his throat. His hand was pressed firmly against his thigh as if to remind him that it was a physical thing that existed.

“This GIW is harmful to you?” Damian asked, sensible and unaffected. He pushed his empty yoghurt away a few inches on the tabletop. “I gather from the acronym that we are dealing with an organization rather than an individual.”

“....Yeah.” Danny gripped his knees under the table and clung to the hint of normalcy. If they were going to act like that hadn’t been weird, then maybe he was okay. “I think they’re government affiliated. They say they are. They, uh.” He cleared his throat. “They’re the Ghost Investigation Ward, but I call them the Guys in White.”

“And they are a problem because?” Damian asked crisply. Cass was watching with the full force of her formidable attention, but it wasn’t a heavy gaze. 

Danny forced himself to stop fidgeting. “Well, I might have died a little.” It came out as a question. “And they’re not sure it’s me- at least, they weren’t, but I guess that they are now.” Oof, that was hard to internalize. Of course they did. Now that they knew about Vlad, they had all the pieces to put it together. His parents had definitely put it together. The look on Mom’s face when she saw him hauling Vlad out of the lab…

He felt cold. Danny rubbed at his thighs as if that would help. 

There hadn’t been another choice. It ate at him a little bit that Danny had thrown his life away for someone he didn’t even like, but what else could he have done? Vlad was Vlad, yeah, but Danny couldn’t have left anyone there. 

Bruce had a look that Danny had never seen on him before. Intense. Focused. Dangerous. Danny instinctively pulled away from it, sitting all the way up in his chair. 

Bruce wiped it away, but the memory still sent Danny’s blood rushing. Ecto gathered in his mouth like saliva, his body readying to fight for his life. He swallowed it down with difficulty. 

“As you said,” Cass interjected. She scooted her chair a little closer to him and laid an arm along his shoulders. “Like Jason.” She rubbed at his upper arm. He leaned into her touch. 

“Like Jason,” Bruce echoed. His tone was hollow.

Danny ducked his head and missed the meaningful look that Cass shot her BatDad. 

“What are their capabilities?” Damian pushed. His dark eyes glittered when Danny looked back at him. “You clearly have invisibility and density shifting. Are they able to counter you?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Danny blinked rapidly to try to force himself to focus. This was… so weird. Someone had found out about him and he wasn’t fighting for his life. Even his friends had found out when he was actively under fire from a ghost. His nervous system didn’t know what to do with this. He cleared his throat. “They have a lot of tech, uh.” He flexed his hands. “From my parents.” He stared at the woodgrain on the table. It was probably real wood and not the heavy duty polymer that the Fenton table was made out of. “They’re not exactly competent, but there’s a lot of them, and they have had some success.”

His stomach lurched. He swallowed hard on bile. He didn’t think about what he’d found when he went after Vlad. He didn’t think about Vlad in his human form, strapped down and incisions pinned open, literal pins holding open his torso and skin layers on his arms. He didn’t think about the quietly despairing hums coming from rows of ghost cores on a shelf, neatly labeled with specimen numbers. 

“Let’s walk.” Cass hustled him up and muscled him down the hall without letting go of her comforting grip. Danny went along with it numbly. But she was kinda right. Moving shook him out of his head. The walls were changing around him, curtains and windows and framed portraits and some of Tim’s photography. They passed a room he had never seen before. Cass pushed the door open, let him look around, and then tugged him down the hall before he’d had time to do more than catalogue the novelty. 

She did that at the next door, too. Oh. An impromptu tour. The novelty of seeing new things started to drag him back to the real world, right now, which was not exactly a fight for his life.

At the third door, Danny managed, “Does anyone play that piano?”

Cass made a mysterious hum. It took her a while to unstick her tongue. “Damian can. Jason, if you ask with big eyes.” 

Danny nodded at this information. Damian did seem like the kind of person who would hone a few classic artistic skills. And Jason was manipulable, good information.

…Not that Danny would need much help there. He felt a little sheepish at how threatened he’d felt earlier when he remembered the sincerity and protectiveness he could sense from both Cass and Jason.  

“What should we do about GIW?” Cass broached the topic, as if she knew that he felt better. She probably did know. “Investigate cautiously? Destroy?” She held up two fingers to count off the ‘destroy the GIW’ options. “Horde of lawyers descend from Wayne Enterprises jet, or Justice League?”

Danny snorted. It turned into a laugh, hysterical and too long. He wiped tears away from his eyes. “Personally, I like the idea of blowing up their base,” he admitted. “But someone should rescue the test subjects first.”

“Oh?”

Cass was so weirdly easy to talk to. He leaned a little harder against her. She wasn’t a big woman, but there was something so solid about her anyway. It must be a Black Bat thing. “I left because I was getting someone out,” he admitted. “They were a lot more captives than I knew about.” He squeezed his free hand to ground himself. “I grabbed as many as I could and tossed them through the portal, but I don’t know if that was everyone or if just being home let them heal up.” 

Hell, maybe someone had come along and eaten all the helpless cores. Danny shied away from the horror of that thought. His intuition had identified the helpless ghost cores as viable ectoplasm, healing and delicious. They were scared at his approach because they sensed him, they knew they were helpless shells to crack open and lick out the sweet marrow–

Ah. Yup. He stopped in his tracks and heaved his snack onto the carpet.

[thesparkledash]

You’re so real for the last reblog. While I do think that Burning Spice just being bored is also pretty cool I can’t deny that Devsis kind of fucked up in giving him some nuance unlike all the other beasts. All we really get is him screaming “how much longer do I have to endure this” because he can’t stand the constant boredom of seeing the same thing happen over and over.

I always think what would happen if Burning Spice Cookie really did destroy everything, how would he look at himself and the world. I see him in despair over the fact that now there really is nothing left to do, nothing left for him to change, and the very tide he tried to steer for himself has run dry. Nothing left for him but a burning world of his own actions and at first he’s happy that something has finally changed, he’s made an impact on history in the way he wanted. But now there’s nothing left, nothing but him. All he can do now is scream in the agony of knowing that he’ll be there in an unchanging world for the rest of his days until he makes the ultimate change in taking himself out, but what would that accomplish? Leaving an unchanging world in his wake? He couldn’t do that to himself, it’s too painful. But to try and fix it, to give Abundance to the world once again is just a painful reminder of how he used to be and he couldn’t do that either. Either scenario is awful. So he’s left wandering the world forced to see it never change and never see a cookie, a kingdom, a civilization be born, grow or wither ever again.

Sorry that got kind of crazy skjakjsjan

Ngl my only issue with the “he wasn’t just bored” argument is that it always feels like it’s justifying what he (and honestly the other beasts) are doing. I’m all for “the witches fucking sucked and were horrible with the beasts”, but i feel like it’s always ignoring that the beasts were the ones to make the choice to fall and turn to the dark side. Nobody forced Burning Spice to turn into a genocidal maniac and nobody forced Shadow Milk to start telling lies and creating chaos. The Beasts had their reasons for doing those things but those reasons aren’t excuses and I don’t like how some people (not here, mostly on reddit) act like the beasts having tragic backstories gives them full permission to commit horrible crimes. It doesn’t. If anything it’s an argument about how the Beasts were possibly always unworthy of the soul jam because their counterparts, the ancient heroes, went through similar horrific events and didn’t become super mega evil. Even though GC pretends otherwise, the heroes want the betterment for all cookies. The beasts do not.

This is really long I’m sorry 💀 I just never liked the “oh they’ve got baggage therefore their war crimes are okay” thing in fandom.

Oh, I completely agree that they could've given Burning Spice more depth. Or at least, made it a bit more clear, again considering how many people thinks he was "just bored"

And for me personally, I don't think them having tragic backstories is an excuse. But it does show us that their not pure evil or anything and that perhaps there is a small possibility that they could be redeemed? Especially with Mystic Flour, even if the stuff she did was obviously horrible and inexcusable, it was still mostly rooted in a desire to end everyone's suffering, so I don't think she's a lost cause or anything

As for "the ancients went through similar horrific events and didn’t become super mega evil". No, they didn't, but let's be real here, that was also partly because they have close friends who look out for them. If Pure Vanilla didn't send that letter to Dark Cacao he would problably still be isolating himself in the citadel and ignoring all the problems outside of it. Pure vanilla admitted himself that if his friends weren't there then he would've actually become a cookie of deceit in the yoghurt river. And sure Golden Cheese didn't turn evil after losing her kingdom, but imagine if that happened like 10 more times. Would she still be okay then?

[gauntletqueen]

I've mentioned previously when I get catcalled or flirted with randomly on the street (sadly, always by Specific Men, never women (as far as I can tell)). This has become more frequent as my skin, curves and ability to do makeup have improved, and of course I am happy with and proud of my appearance, but this type of behavior is Gross and Makes Me Feel Unsafe.

Last time it was at the trainstation, in the evening, on the weekend, so like. Fine I can kind of see how that might be a place to pick up a one-night stand. Still shouldn't, just go to the club for that. But this was on a Monday Afternoon, at the GROCERY STORE. The guy came up to me as I was putting away my shopping kart and asked me if I had a cigarette for him ("no, sorry"), if I smoked ("no"), what kind of drugs I did do ("none") and then he leaned a little closer and said I had very kissable lips (in the dryest, most definitively dismissive way possible "Thanks.") after which I immediately turned and walked away. Like what is your problem, fucker?? It's a GROCERY STORE I AM JUST BUYING SOME BREAD N YOGHURT!!! CREEP

[kakao-lovey]

🦋 My highly detailed 2 week glow-up challenge (Wellness-based)

I have a two-week holiday coming up (As of next Monday) and there is nothing I like more than a good, solid wellness plan, which is what I'm going to be doing. Follow along if you like, I will be posting daily updates, and interact with this post to keep me accountable.

Objectives:

Regain some of my fitness so I can play sports again

Fix my gut health

De-stress

Improve skin and hair health

🏐Workout plan

Warm-up: Stretches (Arm circles, leg swings, hip flexor/hamstring stretch, squat hamstring stretch) 10–15 mins on treadmill with slight incline

Core:

15 knee crunches

15 In-and-outs

15 sit-ups

15 leg circles

30-second side plank (each side)

Legs:

15 Deep goblet squats

15 Back lunges

15 Split squats

15 Side lying leg lifts (Each side)

30 Donkey kicks

Arms:

(Each side)

15 bent-over rows

15 bicep curls

15 lateral raises

15 Tricep raises

15 tricep dips

Day 1: (Pilates class) Core, legs

Day 2: 20-30 minute walk

Day 3: Core, arms

Day 4: Legs x 3

Day 5: Dance workout

Day 6: Core, arms

Day 7: Rest, walk, stretch

Week 2: repeat

🥥Meal plan:

Breakfast: Oats and/or yoghurt and/or soy milk, nuts and seeds, two fruit, green tea

Snack: strawberry protein shake <3

Lunch: Tuna/Chicken/2 Eggs, green vegetables and vitamin C (Bell pepper, orange, tomato), mint tea

Dinner: Whatever my family makes + added vegetables and fruit if needed

Late-night: hibiscus tea + honey

Sundays is a cheat day, which means I'll still be prioritising whole foods but will eat processed food and sugar. This is just a rough sketch, but I need scaffolding to base my meals around, or I end up having too little. (What a problem, right?)

🍵Habits

I will edit this post to use as a habit tracker, and I will keep you updated.

- 2 Litres of water *throughout* the day (Not just in one sitting)

- 15 minutes of morning sunlight

- Iron supplements (Medical people don't come at me, I'm actually deficient)

- Reading a little (2 chapters or 20 minutes)

- Journalling every day

- Just a little bit of revision, one or two hours

Day 1 (March 17): ✔️❌✔️✔️❌✔️

Day 2:

Day 3:

Day 4:

Day 5:

Day 6:

Day 7:

Day 8:

Day 9:

Day 10:

Day 11:

Day 12:

Day 13:

Day 14:

That's about it. Pinky promise to keep you up to date. Bye!

~ Kakao

[waxingrunes]

I understand if you’re too busy to answer this or don’t want to, but i was wondering if you wouldn’t mind telling us some of your non-explicit headcanons or just some traits you think wolfstar have in general? Your explicit ones are sososo hot but today I'm feeling low and need some comforting. Yiur blog is just a safe space for me but I totally understand if not! I love your work <3 all my love x

There are so many nondescript hc’s I have that this has the potential to turn into a formal essay with cited sources, so I’ll go for more of a generalised dump of info I have for each in a hope that it lifts some of your fog Anon. Maybe bullet pointed because it’ll be easier to read than my usual untidy form of communication. Hope you feel lighter soon.

Sirius

• will lick a yoghurt pot if there’s no clean spoons. There’s the option to go for fruit instead, but he wants the yoghurt and by god he will get his yoghurt

• is a fucking terrible driver, gives Remus and any passenger white knuckles due to speed issues and not using a lower gear when taking corners

• is however, in complete control when on a motorcycle; very hot, very controlled and will take his passenger’s safety very seriously

• professionally trained in ballroom and ballet, the latter which he is sometimes mocked in jest for, even by Remus, until he one time caught him stretching elegantly on the floor one morning with his upper body laid flat between long, toned, wide spread legs, ‘morning moony’, a healthy blush on his cheeks

• private crier, doesn’t cry easily

• goes quiet when angry as an initial defence but it doesn’t take long for him to start dropping breadcrumbs of sarcastic comments; can also be snobby and bratty, perhaps sometimes will get nasty and direct (bringing up things he shouldn’t to score points in the heat of the moment)

• suffers immeasurable guilt (helped by the point above) but is always masking a weighted feeling of guilt no matter what he’s doing, so much so it’s manifested into quite a serious anxiety problem in the wrong crowds

• he fidgets a lot, not in a chaotic way, just always has to have his fingers busy with something

• likes the smell of gasoline

• once had to talk himself down from throwing a child in a dustbin

• loves the colour red; blood red and cherry red to be precise but secretly loves dark blue even more because it’s what looks most handsome on Remus despite him not wearing it often

• sighs a lot

• pretended he couldn’t speak English to get away with jumping a queue

• hates the smell and taste of liquorice (unless heavily strawberry/cherry/raspberry flavoured)

• on one particular messy night out he got so impatient waiting at the bar, he reached over and grabbed a discarded bottle of alcohol the server had left open and swigged it

• digs his nails into his skin when anxious and is often reminded to relax the tension in his joints

• stargazes often

• once linked his pinky finger with Remus and asked him to pinky promise not to tell anyone what he was about to tell him, since which a tradition of trust was born where Remus will offer his pinky or the last two fingers for Sirius to hold or squeeze when he’s feeling unsure in public, or in any situation where verbal reassurance isn’t appropriate

• gets a weird thrill at the sound of cork popping from a bottle

Remus

• collects beer mats and keeps them in a drawer, thinks about making them into a display

• got tired of kids playing ball against the wall of his place (after repeat offences and him asking very nicely for them to stop) one day so went out, retrieved the ball and threw it so hard against of the cars it set the alarm off

• owner of said car came running out the house and Remus blamed it on the children. Never had the same issue again

• has a wildly sweet tooth and will always drop one or two packets of sugar into any warm beverage

• stares into space and gets involuntarily caught on someone’s face one too many times which makes them uncomfortable from the ‘Death Stare’ phenomenon when in reality, he’s lost in lala land

• can cook, is actually a proficient cook, but will not cook for anyone but Sirius, James or Lily

• will crack his knuckles, wrists and neck absentmindedly, all of which makes his company squirm because it’s often very loud and ‘pop-py’ but Sirius fucking loves it

• stays very calm during an argument but can shout louder than most and when he does, ears ring from the silence that follows

• prefers tea over coffee

• will eat liquorice any time he wants to piss Sirius off

• cries more than Sirius, but still a private crier

• always has to be the old boot in Monopoly

• loves words that are vowel heavy or double voweled because those are the ones where the scraps of Sirius’ lost French accent surface the most

• has a gentle touch, is aware of his size and nature of his lycanthropy, therefore always somewhat reserved

• loves socks, has a collection of ‘dad socks’

• has the messiest writing out of all the Marauders but loves handwritten things, owns three very different fountain pens for very different purposes

• is polite, but as he’s aged doesn’t tend to ‘fake smile’ a lot, feeling no need to fill uncomfortable silences for the sake of others

• has a chair he favours and often dozes off in it. Most of the time waking up to Sirius on top of him

[talk-danmei-to-me]

Another Jinx episode another post of me talking about my favourite emotionally constipated sad boy:

Always trying to solve his problems with money.

But this episode, it almost seemed like Jaekyung had learned how to person/emote

Confusing feelings about Kim Dan by any chance?

But it was a false alarm:

Whatever helps you sleep at night I guess.

But I think we did get a hint at what is going to make Joo Jaekyung emote:

It’s granny!!!

Honestly after watching their conversation this episode, I think there’s an element of Jaekyung that just really enjoys chatting with a nice old lady. Since I think Mingwa clearly wrote him as someone who has been neglected/starved of emotional affection, I think spending time with Kim Dan’s granny feeds something within him.

Like I don’t think he’s lying.

I mean Kim Dan’s grandma’s days are numbered and the yoghurt… the yoghurt is going to be an emotional catalyst.

One day Joo Jaekyung is going to go for a yoghurt and granny won’t be there.

And then he will cry.

I bet he’s going to be such an ugly crier.

[emilieautumnarchives]

Rolling Scone: Matcha Steamed Buns (Gluten Free)

Posted: August 31, 2014 Archived from Rolling Scone (EAOnline)

It’s odd, I think…

Odd that a girl who desired, as a child, to become a French pastry chef should gravitate towards the often inexplicable and decidedly non-Western tastes and textures of Asian baked goods when it comes to her own choice of teatime delicacies. But I can’t be blamed…

The creativity alone…it’s mind-bending.

I mean, a croissant, right? It’s bloody perfect, but it makes sense. Flour, butter…lots of butter…of course it’s perfect.

But cakes filled with red bean or, perhaps, lotus paste? Sticky balls of rice rolled in sesame seeds and fried? Fluffy buns just barely sweet, infused with powdered green tea leaves, and steamed in bamboo? These sound just plain weird.

Oh, but they’re not…

For me, these gorgeous buns are all about the texture — that lovely, bouncy, fluffy, chewy, cloud-like texture. And, lucky for me and my gluten-intolerant friends, the use of rice flour in Asian baking has a great deal to do with that, as does the technique of steaming instead of baking. Being also allergic to refined sugars, I was delighted to find my favorite healthier sweeteners worked perfectly to create just the subtlest hint of sweetness. I personally love it when the bitter, grassy matcha shines through — otherwise, what’s the point of using such a precious ingredient, right?

And yes, it’s also about the tea. My beloved matcha…I drink the stuff, I cook with it, I bake with it, I even wash my face with it. It is the star ingredient in the Asylum kitchen, and that which makes all things irresistible to me. M…A…T…C…H…A… The word alone makes me so very happy… It’s also ridiculously healthy, but that’s another story…let’s just focus on the buns for now, shall we?

For starters, let’s peek at our ingredients. For a gluten-free baking recipe, this isn’t bad at all, is it?

Those of you who have known me as a vegan for a very long time may be surprised at my use of eggs and yoghurt (honey I’ve never had an ethical problem with as long as it comes from a good source). To be brief (not my strong point), I became dangerously copper toxic a few years ago, which resulted in my becoming terribly allergic to all, and I do mean ALL, vegan protein sources, those being, ironically, the foods highest in copper. Copper toxicity is a danger for some vegans but not for others, depending on your chemistry, use of medications, past use of birth control pills (ewww, DO NOT do it, ladies), and even personality type (high-strung ladies in particular, not joking), so if you are successfully rocking it out vegan-style, I think that’s fantastic. But I can’t, and I found that out the hard way, i.e. being rushed to the ER four times during one European tour alone. After months of cutting out all vegan protein sources, meaning that I was getting exactly no protein whatsoever (stupid, I know that, but I’m stubborn), my body had begun to break down. Anyone remember when I was super crazy thin on tour a few years back? Are you one of those Plague Rats whose mother was writing me telling me that I was setting a bad example for their child by being so thin, implying that I had an eating disorder? That was during this time. Makes sense now, doesn’t it…

At long last, I was convinced by people who loved me to eat a damned egg. After that, I began to get better. Fast. You can tell in photos from the following tours…no more suspicions of an eating disorder, no more letters from concerned parents.

While my allergies to nuts and beans are no longer, I am still allergic to soy, as well as to gluten, refined sugar, yeast, and alcohol, all allergies that were brought on by my copper toxicity. Thanks a lot, copper.

Bottom line? Buy the good stuff. Being healthy is expensive, I know, and don’t think that’s an accident, because it’s not. But it’s not nearly as pricey as medical bills and medications. Organic everything, always. Eggs are always cage free, free range, and from a local farm if you can manage it, or raise your own chickens, love them, use the eggs they’re laying anyway, don’t kill and eat them, and everybody’s happy. Same goes for other dairy. Get a goat, pet a cow, or make friends with someone who did. Sounds absurd, I know, but my point is simply that there IS a way to be non-vegan (still vegetarian of course) and humane. It’s worth the effort, and it tastes a lot better too…

So much for being brief…anyway!

Look at these beautiful colors… Raw coconut sugar is my go-to sweetener for baking, and I use it to replace refined sugar in recipes I’m altering to suit my no gluten/no refined sugar needs.

The only thing I ought to point out is that, when using coconut sugar and other darker colored sweeteners such as maple and date sugars, coconut nectar, or maple syrup (no agave — Google why you shouldn’t use it and get angry at advertising making fools of us yet again), you will have to come to terms with the reality that you will not achieve that stunning, bright green that matcha powder imparts to baked goods using refined, white sugar. I’m just fine with this, and I think you will be, too.

Now, here’s the thing…you are going to need a bamboo steamer for this recipe. If you’re lucky to be near a Chinatown-type area, you should be able to pick one of these beautiful creatures up for $10 or less. Otherwise, try this one on Amazon. [link removed]

I promise you, you won’t resent me for making you buy this…you can use it for cooking dumplings, steaming vegetables, boiling eggs…all manner of things. Go crazy. I don’t mind. I’d be sad if you didn’t.

Here perches my bamboo beauty on the pot of boiling water. Steaming these buns is incredibly fast, and the whole process will take you less than twenty minutes from start to finish. I made these last night at one in the morning on a whim. I ate four of them. Also on a whim. Four.

Just look at that dense yet light and chewy texture…nothing short of addictive…did I mention I ate four?

Next time I may add dark chocolate bits, or top with toasted black sesame seeds. Or both. You can’t tell me what to do.

Matcha Steamed Buns (Gluten Free) Author: Emilie Autumn Makes 8 cup-cake sized buns.

Ingredients

3 large eggs

3 tablespoons raw honey

3 tablespoons unrefined coconut oil

½ cup plain greek yoghurt

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1 teaspoon pure almond extract

1½ cups gluten-free all-purpose flour blend (*flour blend recipe below)

3 tablespoons raw coconut sugar

3 teaspoons matcha green tea powder

3 teaspoons baking powder

¼ teaspoon sea salt

Instructions

Whisk together the eggs, honey, coconut oil, yoghurt, and the vanilla and almond extracts.

In a separate bowl, sift together the flour blend, coconut sugar, matcha powder, baking powder, and salt. Sifting the dry ingredients at least once is essential to creating that light and fluffy texture we're after.

Add the wet ingredients to the dry mixture and stir well to combine thoroughly.

Fill a large pot half full with water and bring to a boil. I use the pot I generally use for cooking pasta as my bamboo steamer is just about the same size and sits safely on the rim, but use whatever pot will support your steamer.

Meanwhile, place as many paper cupcake liners (mine fits seven) as you can fit into your bamboo steaming tray so that the liners are touching each other. This way, your buns will support each other as they rise, and your batter won't spill. I double the liners up for added strength.

Fill the paper liners two thirds full with the batter, as it will rise quite impressively.

Place the lid on the steamer and set the steamer on top of the pot of boiling water. Let the buns steam for 8 minutes, or until they are just barely firm to the touch and a toothpick inserted into the bun comes out clean. The buns should be soft and springy, so do be careful not to overcook them, and don't be discouraged if it takes you a few tries to get your timing right. The perfect bun is more than worth it!

If you like the bitterness of matcha as much as I do, go ahead and very lightly dust the tops of the cooked buns with matcha powder. This will also give you back a touch of that brilliant green we've lost by using coconut sugar.

Notes

These buns are best eaten while still warm and fresh, but will keep for a day or two before becoming more suitable for...matcha tea bread pudding! That's right, Darlings, just break up your too-firm buns, toss the bits in a bowl, and douse with your hot milk of choice (dairy or non). Sprinkle with coconut sugar or other unrefined sweetener and you won't remember why stale was ever a bad thing to be.

*Gluten-free All-Purpose Flour Blend Recipe:

4 cups brown rice flour 2 cups white rice flour 2 cups potato starch 1 cup tapioca starch

Sift all ingredients and use cup for cup to substitute regular flour in many recipes. Store in your refrigerator.

With love from my Asylum to yours,

~ EA